#its for her own amusement and ONLY for her own amusement

[multipleoccupancy]

"Things were just very different after that attack," he explained cautiously, his arms crossing absently in front of him in some quiet attempt to reassure himself. That time was it's own horror but at least he wasn't in for any revelations about it through suddenly accessible memories of it. "I wasn't able to trust anyone in The Program after that, only Samantha and she had her own burdens to bare aside from me." The breaking up of O-Cell had been a shock to the system for the pair of them and just in time for the new way of working to come in too. "I am still very distrusting of other agents, though I try my best not to be." Paranoia brought its own challenges, "another disorder I have earned from working for Delta Green." Though that in particular had been because of Sloane, again though, details.

"She basically set it up, but she speaks to agents who do very foolish things, break the rules or jeopardise themselves and their fellow agents." He said of Samantha, "she's very good at her job and other agents don't know how lucky they are she's there."

Theo managed a short and quiet chuckle that still wasn't quite right but he was at least amused at her agreeing he did indeed lecture her. Surprised that she had been hoping for one and not realising it was because she would see it as a sign of him returning to normal. Though he didn't particularly want to talk about his work for Delta Green he wanted the dangers well known and understood to her but he supposed he could open it to her to ask and that way he could understand what it was that seemed to intrigue her most. "What do you want to know about it? I can't promise to answer but I'll tell you what I can."

Still he was pleased when she revealed that she would be careful about her own security when talking about her travels and would take steps to protect herself. What really delighted him though was the reveal that she no longer wanted to work for Delta Green. The wave of relief that appeared on his face was unmissable and Theo's shoulders that had been so tense for days seemed to relax just a tiny bit more. Her reasoning was both a reassurance and a sadness that she had only needed to understand what Delta Green had done to him to be deterred from joining.

"I am so pleased to hear that," he told her straight and honestly. "I was so worried when you said you wanted to join them, I should have explained it all sooner but... I couldn't." He was still struggling in being honest with her, but he thought as long as he was mindful not to reveal too much he could get away with it, especially with her no longer wanted to be an agent. "You would be right, if they had just asked, I would have agreed. But that method has long been obsolete it is still a questionable organisation in its own right." Threatening and killing agents as it needed to.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

"Why... why did you stop working together after Sloane's attack?" Violet didn't really know, of course, that they used to be a close-knit cell, and that Sloane's betrayal had left invisible scars on Samantha, too.

"I didn't know Delta Green had an HR department." That seemed very... corporate of them. "What does she do?" It was a relief to know that her dad could call Samantha if needed, as this week was proof that she would be there for him. But it would have been much more reassuring to know she was out there on the field with him. Violet remembered how fiercely Samantha had protected him, in that abandoned parking lot.

She managed a little smile. "I don't mind the lectures," she explained, "in fact, I was kind of hoping you were going to lecture me today." It would have been the final proof that he was feeling better. "But I like this conversation better. What else did you want to tell me? About the Program, and... your work as an agent?" She wanted to know everything he was willing to tell her. It was a part of his life he usually never revealed. And she always worried so much, whenever he left on a "work trip."

Her dad's reassurance widened her smile a little bit, it even brought a slight flush of pink to her cheeks. "Thank you, Dad." But she was still taking his warning very seriously. "I won't tell anyone else," she promised, "and I'll be careful, I won't talk about it on the phone." The last thing she wanted was for people to think she was a cultist, or that she worshipped the Horned One. The thought alone made her nauseous.

"I understand. And... you know, Dad, I don't want to work for them anymore." Violet suddenly realized she hadn't told him yet, until now. "After meetin' Agent Davidson, and seeing what the Program did to you... I don't want to work for an organization like that. I know their goal is noble, but... I don't think the greater good justifies treating people like this. They tricked you and hurt you when they could have just asked you instead. You... you told me you wanted to open a special FBI branch, to fight monsters. I know you would have accepted if they had just asked."

[angelwishess]

If Kyra ever had a UM I think it’d be her just dragging everyone around her into a musical number. Disney princess style, and no one can break out of it until the song ends

Like the spell lasts for around 1-3 mins maybe but she has to be singing and dancing the entire time and everyone just knows the lyrics???? Basically like what happens in Enchanted when she started singing at the park except its against everyone’s will

[postracehair]

say again

george russell x reader | 3.9k

three times george curses. or, a beginning, a middle, and a future.

cw: george cursing. a few scrapes and a little bit of blood, some kissing, and a love confession to boot.

a/n: this kind of ran away from me, especially in the middle but every time george russell says fuck an angel gets its wings. written ages ago but posting in honor of Las Vegas.

---

YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME

The door buzzes and you let yourself into the building.

You've only been here a few times, but a match day spent with your coworker and some of her friends is better than sitting on your couch alone, right? Wine and cookies in hand, you trudge up two flights of stairs to her flat. By the time you reach the landing, you can already hear the chatter and the TV.

No one seems to hear your knock so you push the door open and gingerly step in. The kitchen is on the other side of the flat, and you assume everyone is somewhere between there and the television.

But when you pass the living room where the TV actually is, there's just one guy on the couch. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees watching a penalty get called.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he says to no one.

You snicker. He whirls around. "Hello," you say.

"Sorry," he says, standing immedietly. Wow, he's tall. "Sorry, hello."

Oh, and he's familiar. You know him, kind of. He's -- god, he races cars, right? Shit, what is his name? Your coworker has social connections you barely understand so it's not really a surprise to find someone who is probably famous in her flat.

"It is just you, then?" you ask. He laughs and runs a hand through his hair. Dressed in jeans and a team jumper, his casual outfit is at odds with the severe cut of his jaw, his cheekbones. He just looks expensive.

"No," he says. "No, everyone is putting plates together. I'm afraid I might be the one most interested in watching the match."

"Not going well?" you say lightly.

He rounds the sofa, hand out. "Could be better," he says. "I'm George."

You readjust the items in your hands to shake his and tell him your name. He repeats it, and you smile.

"Let me go put these down," you say, "and then, um. Do you want some company, George?"

Honestly, you're not sure where that came from. But, though you came here to escape the smothering loneliness of your own flat, something about him makes you want to stay here rather than go into the kitchen with everyone else.

"'Course I do," he says. "I promise to tighten up my language. Won't do for that to be my first impression."

You wave him away though your cheeks feel a little hot and head for the kitchen.

Your coworker brightens at seeing you and takes your hostess gifts with ease.

"The match is on in the other room," she tells you, "but most of us are drinking in here."

"I saw," you say. "I met George."

She hears something in your tone that turns her expression something between amused and calculating. "You did, did you?"

You just nod, loading up a plate with the various nibbles. "How do you know him, anyway?"

She shrugs. "Oh, you know." No, you don't, but she plows on. "What did you think?"

"Taller than he seems on TV," you mutter. "But very polite. He shook my hand."

That gets her to laugh. "Oh, of course he did. Well, don't stand around in here with us. Go chat up a Formula 1 driver!"

George is back on the couch when you return, arm stretched over the back of it, brows furrowed.

"Has anything exciting happened?" you ask him, sitting down with a perfectly responsible distance between you.

He grimaces. "Nothing good. Wolverhampton, bless 'em, are quite bad."

That might explain why no one is watching this match with him, but you keep that to yourself.

"I see," you say, solemnly. "But loyalty is loyalty, I suppose, if they're your club."

"Exactly," George says. "It's suffering but it has to be done." Someone on the screen triggers a free kick and George leans in until it's over. He starts talking about one of the players being traded, or his contract being renegotiated, or something. You nibble on your plate and just watch. He's animated, this man. Fringe falling over his forehead the more he gestures, blue eyes wide and serious. It's all very endearing.

"Sorry," he says suddenly. "I'm being so rude. You don't want to hear about all of this, do you?"

You smile at him. "I don't mind. I came over for some company more than anything else."

He sinks back into the couch a little, hand running through his hair again. "Well, lucky for me that you did," he says.

Your face feels hot and you don't want to mistake this for flirting if it's not. He is a world-famous athlete, after all, but here you are on the couch next to him. "Lucky for you, indeed."

He laughs, delighted.

OH, SHIT!

This is not how you saw your life going, but maybe that's just the nature of it. Big moments happen just the same as small ones and we have to handle them regardless. The trajectory of your life shifted just a little bit when you sat down on someone else's couch to watch a football match with a stranger.

Because that stranger -- George -- is now much more than that. He asked for your number that day before he had to leave earlier than everyone else, and has been speaking to you ever since. Texts, phone calls, FaceTimes. And, when he's not driving hundreds of miles an hour halfway across the world, he likes to spend time with you.

They're dates, you know they are. But things are still casual, immensely so. Coffee, dinner, long walks through the park. It's probably past due that you ask him what he'd like out of this, but your friends tell you to just have fun for the time being. You've learned a lot about him in the last month or so, both from him directly and by doing your research.

You'd watched a few Grand Prix before meeting him but not with any kind of rapt attention. Now, obviously, you watch with purpose. See him zip around the track, read his radio messages, hope desperately that he'll be alright. He's a big mix of things, George Russell. Witty but determined, thorough but reactionary, polite but intense. You want to keep getting to know him on a personal level and measure that up to how he appears to the world.

Today, you're on one of those long walks. George is recounting the last race at your request. It's always more interesting to hear him talk about what happened than watching it, though you're really growing to love that part, too.

It's a bit chilly and he's got a scarf on in addition to a nondescript hat pulled down low over his eyes. You're used to this by now, though you wish you could see his face more fully.

"And then -- well, I'm sure you saw this bit -- he turned right into me like I wasn't even there!"

"But you avoided it," you remind him. "I saw that, too." A cold wind blows down the path and you shiver a bit.

"You alright?" he asks. "Nippy, huh?" He stops walking and turns to you, his huge hands coming to rest on your shoulders before he rubs them up and down your arms.

"A bit," you agree, a little breathless. God, you really need to talk to him about what this is. You're thinking about him all the time, which is a bit of a nuisance, as you're not sure he's feeling the same. But, a small voice in your head tells you, you can't be too far off in thinking that it might be based on the way he's looking at you right now.

Even under the cap, you can see the soft set of his brow, the way his eyes are shining. The gentle quirk up of his mouth. What would it be like to kiss him? Would he let you?

George stops his warming efforts, catching your hands in his. "Better?"

All you can do is nod. He grins, looking a bit too pleased, and starts walking again, you in tow. This is something else you've learned about him -- he really can be a cheeky bastard. He must have more than some idea as to how he affects you and enjoys it. It's somewhere between a game and a challenge.

You're thinking about ways you can get him back, ways you can flirt mercilessly. His hand is in yours and he's half a step ahead of you when suddenly your fingers are ripped from his and you find yourself on your hands and knees with a gasp.

George is immediately there with you.

"Oh, shit," he says. "Are you alright?"

"I--" You're a bit too stunned to say anything. George rarely curses, which is funny given how you met, but it unsettles you a little bit as much as it warms you. "I think I tripped?"

"Let me see your hands," he says, gently tugging at your wrists with his long fingers. He sucks on his teeth when he sees your palms. "Not too bad, but a little scratched."

You rearrange yourself so you're flat on your bum, legs in front of you. Your hands might be alright but your knees are another story. The fabric of your jeans isn't ripped but you can see the bloodstains already.

"Oh," you say. You look up at George, feeling a bit pathetic. "This is embarrassing."

He scoffs. "No, it's not," he says. "I do think we should get you cleaned up, though."

"We can go to my place," you suggest. The sting sets in a little more, but mingles with your chagrin and you just set your jaw. "Help me up?"

"Brave girl," George says. He presses his lips to the base of your wrist and stands, tugging you up as he goes. "Have you got first aid things at your flat?"

You nod, running through the contents of your bathroom in your mind. It occurs to you that George has not been to your place before, and you did not mentally prepare yourself to bring him there today.

George gently says your name. "Let's get a cab, shall we?"

It takes no time at all to flag one down. George removes his hat in what you can clearly see as an effort to get the cabbie to hurry along a bit, but it seems to work. He takes one look at you, one more at George, and steps on it.

"Let me get your belt," George mutters, making quick work of the buckle.

"I don't think I've ever worn a seatbelt in a cab in my life, George," you reply. He just pats your thigh.

"Think we've had enough injuries for one day, don't you?"

George and the cabbie chat about the race season, about how hot it really is in Singapore, about one of George's recent podiums. He keeps you tucked into his side the whole time -- he's ignored his own seatbelt, you notice -- hand on your thigh. You keep your palms turned up on your knees and wonder how on earth you got here.

The city flies by and you lean your head on his shoulder. You can feel something shifting between you, something clicking into place that wasn't entirely settled before. It's scary, it's exciting, it's big. It's something you're going to have to talk about.

George pays the driver in some large bills and helps you out of the cab and up the steps of your building.

"Where are your keys?" he asks.

"Front right pocket of my jeans."

"Pardon my reach," he jokes, and lightly rests on palm on your hip and slides the other into your pocket to find them. He tugs the keyring out and winks at you before unlocking the door. Up the stairs, into the flat. Shoes toed off, coats on the hook after George helps you out of yours.

"I'm not an invalid, you know," you tell him. He clicks his tongue.

"We don't want blood on this nice coat of yours, do we?"

You roll your eyes. George glances around your flat and smiles. "This is very you."

Dishes on the counter, the pillows a mess on the couch, your books and trinkets on every flat surface -- you suppose he's right.

"Thank you?" you say. He taps your chin with his knuckle.

"It feels like a home, I mean." Your cheeks feel warm and your heart sighs. God, the things he says.

"Oh," you breathe. "That's kind."

"And does this home have a first aid kit?" The reminder brings the dull sting of your scraped skin back to the forefront of your mind.

"Bathroom cabinet," you tell him. George nods.

"I'll get that. Why don't you change into something loose so I can get to your knees?"

In your room, you tug carefully tug on some sweatpants, mindful of your palms, and let yourself marvel at how today has gone. You expected to have George here someday, but certainly not like this. Will he want to see your bedroom? You shove some dirty laundry into the hamper and thank past you for making the bed this morning.

"I think you should sit on the counter," George calls. "Whenever you're ready."

You pad out to meet him in socked feet. It's quite the sight, him in your kitchen. He's bent over your sink, washing his hands. His sweater has been tossed over a chair and you can see the lines of his back under his t-shirt.

"Do you need help getting up?" he asks. You nod. Together, you get yourself on the counter, making you about eye level.

"Hello," you say. His hat is gone, too, so his fringe falls across his forehead in slightly curled strands. When you've cleaned yourself up, maybe you'll work up the courage to run your hand through them.

"Hello yourself. Right hand, please." You hold out your palm and George gets to work. He cleans it, getting all the bits from your skin, and then uses an alcohol wipe.

"Do you have a special interest in first aid, or something?" you ask to distract yourself from the sting. His thumb strokes your pulse point as he works.

"I guess you get beat up a bit in karting when you're young," he says. He wraps one palm in gauze and moves onto the other. "I suppose i just like knowing how to take care of people."

"God," you groan. "Is there anything wrong with you?"

He looks at you then, hair falling into his blue, blue eyes. "Oh," he smirks. "Plenty, darling." He finishes up on your other palm and holds it in his for a moment longer than you expect. Then he slowly brings your hand to his mouth and kisses the bandage.

You might gasp, You're not entirely sure, eyes glued to his lips like nothing else exists. Then he kisses the other palm. Your gaze flicks up and George is looking right at you.

"Knees," he says, voice a little hoarse. "Alright?"

"Alright," you breathe. You stick one leg out just to see what he'll do. You're learning that he rises to the occasion, and that's exactly what happens. He cups your ankle, places your foot on his thigh, and slides your sweatpants up above your joint.

"That's gnarly," he says, breaking the tension. You laugh and tap his leg with your other foot. "You ready?"

"I'm ready."

He makes quick work on it. One hand on your calf, the other gently cleaning and bandaging. The silence is comfortable, familiar, though you've not been in this situation before. It's not until George is almost done with your other knee that he speaks.

"You know," He says, lightly. "If you wanted me to touch you, all you had to do was ask. The tripping wasn't entirely necessary."

"George!" you gasp. He squeezes your calf.

"I'm just saying, darling."

He ties off the gauze and rolls down your pant leg. You widen your knees and he steps between them immediately, hands resting gently on your thighs. It's absolutely electric -- going from shy, appropriate touches to being in your flat together, his hands all over you. How are you going to go back?

Maybe you can't.

George's eyes rake over your face. You inhale his exhales, feeling them on your lips. His pupils dilate.

"What is this, George?" you whisper. His fingers press into your thighs a little harder.

"Well," he says, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "What would you like it to be?"

"I don't know," you say, honestly. He is not dissuaded, does not back away. He must know that this is hard for you -- his life is so different from yours. As it is, you avoid social media so you don't see pictures of you splashed across gossip accounts. It's impossible to totally stay away from it but you try, because you really like being with him.

"Shall I tell you what it is for me?" George says.

You nod.

He cups your face in his hands, thumbs stroking the delicate skin under your eyes.

"Every second I am not with you I am thinking about when I'll see you next," he says. "I store up things to tell you and take photos to show you and I have a bag full of things I've bought you but been too afraid to give you. Beautiful things, things that remind me of you."

"George--"

"I worry about fucking up your life," he continues, and you fall silent. "This is a lot. I am a lot. My life is not simple, and you've already seen that. But I want you in it. I want you in it however you want to be there, though I have my suggestions. I promise that if you let me, I'll treat you so well, because you deserve everything, and --"

Your heart is going to explode if he goes on any longer, so you close the gap between you and kiss him. Finally.

It's just the press of your lips against his for a few seconds, your eyes fluttering shut, before George catches up to what's happening and angles your faces a little bit to make it deeper. Your bandaged hands rest on his elbows and you swallow a sound from deep in his throat, something that lights a fire in your belly.

"Blimey," George says, leaning your foreheads together.

"What, no curse for me?"

His eyes sparkle and he wrinkles his nose at you. "Fuck," he says. "I've been thinking about that for weeks."

You press your lips to the corner of his mouth. "That's more like it."

BLOODY HELL

What the fuck was that? Is he serious? Keep focused, George. This is fucking ridiculous. Head down.

It's a bad day. Not as bad as it could be -- George does not end up in the wall. But he ends up way further down the pack than he should, barely scraping together a few points. It's the car and everyone knows it. The bouncing, the drag, the understeer. A showing far too poor for this late in the season.

And George is pissed. It's not often that you see him this way -- he's fairly levelheaded, even when things get tough. Something about him causes conflict to lull, things to fall into place, but even that can't fix the silver arrow.

You slip out of the garage during the last lap to sit in his driver's room and wait.

This isn't your first race. Far from it, by now. Things got official halfway through the season after that day in your flat, and you've been coming to as many as you can. It's a rush, really, to see him work. Scarier than anything, but when it's good? It's amazing. You love the energy of the garage and everyone seems to have taken to you, too.

So much so that they know to send George right to his room before the media pen so you can calm him down.

You sit on the bench and wait.

He comes in, closing the door firmly but never slamming it, and sighs. All the tension melts from his body and he looks defeated. Sweaty, annoyed, and defeated.

"Hello," you say, lightly.

He smiles wryly. "Shit day, huh?"

You love how George looks after a race. Hair a mess from his helmet, skin beaded with sweat. He unzips his race suit and lets it hang at his hips and you can see the outline of his muscles through his fireproofs. It's genuinely swoonworthy, even with his visibly bad mood.

"Are you alright?" you ask. He shrugs, rolls his shoulders, and winces.

"Bloody hell," he curses. "My back is killing me."

"What can I do?"

"Nothing," he says automatically. "You're perfect just as you are."

It's a reflex he has -- not to ask for things. You're still working it out, poking and prodding to find the cracks. Maybe, with time, he'll loosen this grip he has on his desire to make your life as comfortable and wonderful as possible without thinking of himself. There are moments when it's best to just let him fuss, but right now you think you can push back a little.

"George," you sigh. "Come on."

He hides his face behind a sweat towel for a breath, then tosses it aside. "Alright," he says. "Just sit with me for a bit."

You scoot over on the bench and he flops next to you, head back against the wall and eyes closed. His hand fumbles around for yours, pinching your thigh when he overshoots, which makes you laugh. He cracks a smile and opens one eye just enough to see your grin before settling back into his rest.

He breathes deeply, fingers entwined with yours. The line of his jaw is pronounced in the awful lighting of the room and the shadows under his eyes look worse than usual. A few more races and then he can rest. What will you do in the off season? Maybe a vacation. Hopefully a vacation. You imagine George in swim trunks on a beach somewhere, dozing in the sand. Rubbing sun tan lotion on his back and his shoulders and his nose, reading books for hours until he convinces you to run into the water. Lazy days on a balcony or in a bed with all the windows open, never being far from each other --

Someone knocks on the door.

"Christ," George mutters. "Let's ignore it."

"You need to go to the pen, darling," you whisper back. He squeezes your hand and presses your legs together.

"Just a few more minutes," he says. "Eventually they'll just come in."

"If you say so."

You press a kiss to his tacky cheek and lean your head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

George takes a deep breath. "I love you," he says.

The words stretch into the silence that comes after, the moments it takes for you to process it. They fill the small room, sneak their way into your bloodstream, your lungs, all the way to your heart.

Part of you is waiting for the follow-up. I know it's too early, I know it's a lot, You don't have you say it back. But George doesn't deal in excuses. He feels it, so he says it.

You lift your head to look at him and find him already staring at you. Not expectant, just looking to look.

"I love you, George," you say.

He grins bigger than you've ever seen, bigger than after your first kiss, than the days when he's on the podium.

Someone knocks on the door again.

"Oh, piss off," he mutters and leans in to kiss you.

[ellstersmash]

Prompt time! Solas and Athi discuss at length if the other would love them as a worm. Please and thank you 🙏

rare and marvelous

Fandom: Dragon Age Pairing: Solas x f!Lavellan Rating: G for General now illustrated :')

-

“Are you comfortable in that form?”

Athi’s voice cuts into the quiet of the Fade and Solas’ own silent musings, the path they’re currently on less twisting, and therefore less mentally demanding, than most.

“This form?” he responds. “Or do you refer to another?”

“You know, most people don’t have to specify that.”

“I believe we can agree that I am not most people.”

Athi’s features scrunch together in amusement as she most certainly prepares to tease him—her favorite pastime, not that the Fade provides much of a variety from which to choose. “So true,” she says, the sing-song notes of it echoing in the shifting emptiness around them. “You’re very special.”

“Your approval of my circumstances is paramount,” he states dryly. “Which form are you currently curious about?”

“Your new—or, well, old—spirit form. It’s very… tendrily.”

Solas chuckles. “I can say with great confidence that I have never before been accused of being ‘tendrily.’”

“Love that we’re still finding firsts. Don’t you?” Athi nudges him with an elbow. The self-satisfied smile on her face makes its own light, her playfulness a beacon in the dull dark of this domain.

“You are right,” he says, “and I should hardly be surprised that you are still able to surprise me.”

“Or maybe you should be surprised by my surprising you, otherwise it’s not much of a surprise, is it? But back to my question: do you like to hang around as your tendrily spirit-self?”

“It is not so dissimilar to this one.”

“It floats.”

“Well, yes.”

“And you don’t have hands.”

Solas chuckles. “But many tendrils, as I’ve been recently informed. Besides, one does not need appendages to affect the Fade; only a capable mind and sufficient will.”

“Well, you need appendages to affect me,” Athi mumbles.

Solas grins over at her then, waiting until he catches her eye to lean closer, lower his voice, and ask, “Do I?”

She’s not the only one with the power to tease. It has the intended effect, of course: her eyes widen and unfocus for a few long moments, the air thickening with desire before she shakes it off.

“So is that a yes, then?” she asks.

“Yes, I am comfortable in that form, as I am comfortable in this one.”

“But not the wolf.”

This is not something he’s considered, and he takes his time answering. “The Dread Wolf was born of a specific need to threaten the evanuris and as a show of power and protection for those who would escape or oppose them. And, as you know, it takes a great deal of energy to maintain. I would not call it ‘comfortable’ by any stretch of the definition.”

“Cute, though.”

Solas rolls his eyes at her flippancy. “I refuse to dignify that statement with a response.”

“That is a response.” But she takes his hand and squeezes, warmth diffusing into Solas’ chest as her affection washes over him in gentle waves.

Some time later, it occurs to him to wonder why she brought this subject up in the first place. “Are you comfortable with my spirit form, Athi?”

“I mean, sure. It’s just new. And it is different, at least to me. Not as solid.”

“Different in a bad way?”

“No. I mean, yes in some ways. Harder to kiss you, for one thing.” She squeezes his hand again. “Also I’m never really sure which eyes to look into.”

“In truth, that form does not have eyes, or even sight in the way you’d experience it.” 

Athi looks up at him, a vacant expression which he can only classify as bewilderment on her face.

“There are other senses which allow me to perceive the world,” he continues. “Ones which are very difficult to explain to someone who cannot experience them, but rest assured that I know where you are and what you are doing, whether in spirit form or this one.”

“That clears things up less than I think you think it does.”

“I am sorry. Perhaps you might simply choose your favorite ‘eye’ with which to maintain contact as we converse.”

“Right, I’ll give that a go.” 

“Does it truly bother you? Does it change your opinion of me?”

Athi stops short, her hand still clasped in his tugging him to a halt in turn. “What? No, it doesn’t ‘bother’ me. It’s just different. And I have to be different with it.”

“But I am still…” He is unsure how to ask the right question, but feels it imperative that he discover the answer. “I am still Solas, to you? Even when I wear that form?”

“Who else would you be?”

“Does it change how you feel about me? Your—” It is still so hard for him to accept the concept that even forming the word is a challenge. “Your love for me?”

“Oh.” Athi’s whole being relaxes on a sigh and a soft smile. She lifts his hand to her lips and kisses two of his knuckles. “Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing can change that.”

“Well. That is a relief. Thank you.”

They continue along their path, but the quiet hardly has time to settle back in when Athi speaks again.

“Solas?”

He hums an acknowledgement.

“If I were in a different form, would you still love me?”

The answer is obvious, but he entertains the subject. “Temporarily?”

“No, I think permanently.”

“Of course I would. It is your spirit that I adore—though I am fond of your form as well.”

She laughs brightly. “Good answer! But what if it was really different? Like a fish? Or a worm? What if you woke up one day and I was a worm?”

“Is your spirit intact within this worm?”

“Let’s say yes.”

“Then yes, I would still love you. And I would learn to love your worm form in time.”

“Okay.” She’s silent long enough that he thinks the matter dropped, then: “But what if my spirit was changed, too? What if I had a worm spirit now?”

“That would be an impossibility.” Even more impossible than the premise, but he keeps that to himself. “If your spirit was no longer yours, but a worm’s, then there would be no you within it. I would cherish your memory into eternity, and leave the worm to live out its life.”

Athi gasps and stops again, dropping his hand to match her other one on her hip. “You would leave me?!”

“It would not be you, vhenan. It would be a worm.”

“But I would be the worm!”

“You’re not the worm. Without your spirit, the worm is just a worm.”

“What if I was always the worm?”

She appears genuinely distressed, and Solas isn’t sure he can reason his way out of a conversation this ridiculous. “Then we likely would never have met. You would not love me either.”

“You don’t know that!”

Solas sighs heavily, cradling his temples in one hand. “I fear we’ve stepped out of the incredibly hypothetical discussion we began and into a deeper one.”

Athi starts ahead without him. “You’ve certainly stepped into something.”

[greengoblinswifey]

heyyy can we get some fem dom nicholas chavez fics? oml i’ve been OBSESSED with your writing your amazinggg!!

Nicholas Chavez x Actress!Reader

summary— at a red carpet event, you and Nicholas share an intimate moment as you're interviewed about your relationship dynamic, with you taking control in a sensual and dominant way, while Nicholas surrenders to your command. after the event, you show him who’s really in control.

warnings— sub!nicholas, strip tease, praise kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— thank you and enjoy though this was rushed <3 i see you guys’ requests, working on them each, it’ll probably take me a bit as finals week is approaching.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

The evening was extravagant, the flashing lights of cameras following your every move as you and Nicholas made your grand entrance. The air around you seemed to hum with anticipation—l, your black and white two-piece outfit, paired with a delicate black bow in your hair, had garnered its fair share of admiring glances. Nicholas, standing confidently beside you in his perfectly tailored black and white suit, looked every bit the heartthrob the world adored. His arm was wrapped firmly around your waist, his posture poised as he smiled at the flashing cameras.

You could practically feel the envy in the crowd, the whispering excitement as they gawked at the perfect couple that was you two.

It was the interview part that caught you both off guard. The interviewer, a well-dressed woman with an effortless charm, approached you with a grin.

“So, Nicholas,” she began, her eyes twinkling mischievously, “We all know that the internet is absolutely thirsty over you. One question that keeps coming up—are you the dominant type?” She paused and glanced at you with a playful look.

You couldn’t help but laugh, could she not have asked about your individual acting careers? Everyone in the room had been curious about your relationship, especially given the dynamic between you and Nicholas. You both knew the truth—he was far from dominant. But the playful question hung in the air as you looked up at Nicholas, meeting his eyes with that sly smile you reserved for moments like this.

You raised an eyebrow. “We both know the answer to that,” you said with a teasing tone, a glimmer of mischief in your voice. “He’s anything but dominant.”

Nicholas chuckled, brushing his hand through his fluffy hair as he glanced at you with a soft, almost apologetic smile. “Oh, come on,” he said, laughing lightly, “I think I could be the dominant one.”

You couldn’t help but smile even wider. There it was—the playful bravado. You knew he loved to tease, but you also knew the truth. He was yours, in every way that mattered. The cameras clicked around you both, their flashing lights capturing the fleeting moment.

The interviewer pressed further, clearly enjoying the banter. “So, Nicholas, do you let Y/N take charge, or is there more to it?”

You caught the subtle shift in his expression, a momentary flicker of uncertainty. You knew he was always more comfortable when the roles were clearly defined. He loved when you took control, and he relished the moments where you had him exactly where you wanted him. Still, he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

“Of course, I let her take charge sometimes,” he said with a wink, his voice low and confident. “But let’s just say I know how to hold my own.”

Your eyes never left his as you felt a familiar, heated amusement rise within you. You didn’t say anything immediately, instead giving him a knowing, sly smile that only he could interpret. The interview wrapped up soon after, but you could feel the sexual tension between you growing.

Later, as you both slipped into the car to head back to the hotel, Nicholas glanced at you from the corner of his eye, clearly still processing the teasing exchange.

“So,” you teased, turning your body slightly toward him as you sat beside him, “You think you’re the dominant one now, huh?”

He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I was just messing with them, you know I’m not really dominant.” His voice trailed off.

Once you arrived at the hotel, you opened the door to your suite—and the atmosphere inside caught you both off guard. The room was bathed in deep red lighting, and a large stripper pole gleamed near the bed. There was a certain sultry vibe in the air that only intensified the electricity between you two.

Nicholas stood frozen at the door, his mouth slightly agape as he looked around the room. His voice barely above a whisper, he asked, “Did you plan all this?”

You took a step forward, a slow, deliberate movement that drew his gaze toward you. A mischievous smile curled at your lips. “What do you think?” you purred. “You might’ve said you’re dominant, but let's see if you can prove it.”

Before he could respond, you walked toward him, your heels clicking against the floor as you reached for his tie. With a firm tug, you pulled him closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “You’re not in control here tonight.”

You pushed him onto the bed with a gentle but firm push, straddling his lap as you let your hands roam to the music playing softly in the background. The sultry beat of Rihanna’s song, Skin, filled the room, setting the tone.

Nicholas’ breath hitched as you began your slow strip tease, starting with a deliberate sway of your hips. He watched, utterly transfixed, his eyes darkening as you spun on the pole with ease, twisting and turning, performing tricks that had him loosening his tie. You could see the tension building in his body, his legs shifting as he fought to maintain control, but his growing arousal was unmistakable.

You caught the sight of his pants tightening as he got hard, a clear sign that the heat between you was almost unbearable. He groaned, his voice rough, “Is it getting hotter in here, or is it just me?” His fingers were trembling as he tugged at his shirt, clearly trying to ease the pressure.

You stopped for a moment, letting your body hover just above his, your fingers trailing lightly over his chest as you leaned in to whisper, “Tell me, who’s the dominant one now?”

He looked up at you with wide eyes, his breath coming in quick gasps. “You,” he muttered, his voice husky, “All you, baby.”

A thrill ran through you at the words, knowing that, no matter what he said in front of the cameras, tonight, he was yours. You kissed him hard, your body pressing fully against his as you let the power shift completely into your hands.

The dim, red lighting in the room created a sultry ambiance, and Nicholas’ breath was shallow as you slowly pulled him closer to the edge of the bed. He was already so lost in you, his eyes dark and desperate, watching your every move with a mixture of awe and hunger.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, voice rough as he reached for you, his fingers desperate to pull you closer.

You smiled at him, hands moving to gently guide his hands away, a quiet but firm gesture that told him exactly who was in control tonight. “I know,” you whispered, “But tonight, I’m the one in charge.”

He groaned softly at the command in your voice, his eyes filled with a mixture of admiration and desire. You slowly helped him out of his remaining clothes, taking your time with every movement, savoring the way his breath hitched at each touch. When he was finally naked, your hands hovered over his cock, soft, slow movements that made his skin burn with need.

His hands were on you again, fingers trailing up your thighs, but you stopped him with a soft chuckle. “Not yet,” you teased, your hands moving to his hair, tangling in the strands as you pulled his face toward yours for a deep, hungry kiss.

As your lips met, you could feel him giving in completely, his mouth opening to you as he groaned softly. The kiss was slow, a burn that heated your body with every passing second. You deepened it, your hands still tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you let him feel just how much you wanted him.

“You love when I take control, don’t you?” you murmured against his lips, the words a low tease. “I can see it in your eyes. You love when I tell you what to do.”

Nicholas moaned softly, his head tipping back slightly as his hands roamed over you. “Yes,” he breathed. “I love it. I love when you take me however you want.”

His words made something surge through you leaving your pussy wet. You moved away from him slightly, watching as his eyes followed you, filled with anticipation. You stood before him, feeling powerful, feeling every inch of control settle over you.

“On your knees,” you commanded softly, voice low and commanding.

Without hesitation, Nicholas obeyed, moving to kneel before you. His gaze was filled with admiration, the way he looked at you making your pulse race. He gazed up at you, his lips parted as he waited for your next move.

Slowly, you guided his head to your wet pussy, fingers lightly grazing his chin, guiding him with gentle pressure. “Show me how much you want to please me,” you whispered.

He didn’t hesitate. His hands slid up your thighs, fingertips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner legs, sending a shiver up your spine. His mouth hovered close, his breath warm against your skin.

As he kissed his way up your inner thighs, you let out a soft sigh, your hands still tangled in his hair. “That’s it,” you praised, feeling a surge of power as you guided him. “Just like that. Take your time.”

Nicholas’ lips moved with such care, such reverence, making you feel every moment as he took his time to explore. His lips were soft but insistent as he kissed higher, closer to your pussy, teasing you just enough to drive you wild. You felt him smile against your skin, the gentle pressure of his mouth making you gasp, his hands gripping your hips as he worked his way to where you needed him most.

“Good boy,” you whispered. The praise was just enough to make him groan in response, his lips and hands eager to please. He followed your every direction, his tongue worshipful as he explored every inch of you, making you feel like you were the only person in the world.

As he sucked on your clit, the heat in the room seemed to grow, the intensity of your his movements leaving you breathless. You could feel the desire building within you, the power of knowing how much he craved your control.

“You’re so good at this, baby.”

His response was a needy, almost desperate kiss to your pussy, his mouth moving against you, lips hot and insistent. You felt the rush, the way he shifted beneath you, eager to please, and as your hands tangled in his hair and you moved your pussy on his face, you reached your peak with your juices squirting all over him.

Once you’d rode out your high, the feeling having your eyes roll back, you pulled him up by his hair. His breath caught in his chest, his body trembling with a mix of want and admiration as he gazed at you, eyes clouded with desire.

You straddled him, your pussy hovering above his hard, leaking cock. His hands were immediately on your waist, fingers digging in your brown skin slightly as he looked up at you, the need in his eyes undeniable.

You leaned down, your lips brushing over his ear as you whispered, “You love when I just have you at my mercy, don’t you baby?”

Nicholas moaned softly, his voice hushed, shaky with desire. “Yes, I love it. I need you to guide me. I love knowing that you're in control.”

You smiled at his words, the power rush of knowing how deeply he craved this moment, this surrender, filling you. “Good boy,” you murmured, your voice thick with desire. “That’s exactly what I want to hear.”

With that, you sat on his dick and moved slowly at first, teasing him, feeling the heat between you build. His hands moved to your chest, gently cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through you. You gasped, your hips grinding down harder, the connection between you deepening with each movement.

“Tell me again,” you whispered, breathless as you moved against him, “Who’s in control here?”

His answer came in a low groan, his hands gripping you tighter, pulling you closer. “You,” he breathed, his voice rough with want. “You’re in control, baby. Always.”

You felt him buck beneath you, his hips rising to slam into you, but you controlled the rhythm, keeping him on edge, teasing him as you moved on his cock with slow, deliberate force. His breath was ragged now, hands trying to pull you closer, but you kept the power in your hands.

“Please,” he begged softly, eyes filled with a mix of need and reverence. “Don’t fucking stop.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the power of the moment settling over you. “You want to beg for me, Nick?” you teased, your fingers lightly grazing his lips as you leaned in closer. “I love hearing you beg.”

He nodded quickly, his voice desperate. “Please baby, I want to feel you cum on my cock. I need you. I love it when you’re in control.”

The way he said it, so raw and so honest—sent a thrill of satisfaction through you. You felt his need radiating from him with the way he was throbbing inside you, but you held back, taking your time, savoring every moment as you slid up and down. You leaned down, kissing him softly, the gentle, teasing nature of the kiss only heightening the tension between you.

You weren’t ready to let go yet. Not until you’d taken him to the edge and back again.

His touch made you weak, his hands on your hips, pulling you closer, guiding you to move on his cock as he kissed his way down your neck, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin. You moaned softly, a rush of heat flooding you. His name escaped your lips, soft and needy, as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

“You're so good to me,” you whispered against his ear, your voice seductive. “So perfect for me.”

He responded with a low, throaty moan, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. “And you're so beautiful,” he murmured between kisses, his lips brushing against your skin. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You kissed him deeply, your lips soft but demanding, tasting him as you took your time. His hands slid up your back, pressing you flush against him as he kissed you back with equal intensity.

“Do you want to cum for me?” you asked, your lips hovering near his ear, your voice low and teasing. “Tell me you want it.”

He moaned in response, his hands trembling as they traced down your sides. “Please,” he begged, his voice strained with need. “Let me cum. I can’t hold back any longer.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “Beg me,” you said, your voice steady. “I want to hear you beg for it.”

Nicholas’ eyes locked with yours, full of longing. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as he kissed you again, this time with more urgency. “Please,” he said again, more desperately this time, “I need to feel you. I want to let go inside you. Please let me.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, your hands sliding down to his chest as you leaned closer, kissing his lips softly. “You’ve been so good, Nick,” you murmured, your voice thick with praise. “You deserve it. You’ve been perfect for me.”

He let out a low groan at your words, the sound of it like music to your ears. His hands moved to your back again, pulling you even closer. “I’m yours,” he breathed against your lips, his voice barely above a whisper. “All yours. Always.”

“That’s right,” you said, your voice steady, filled with power. "You’re all mine, baby. So perfect for me."

With that, you squirted on his cock, soaking the hotel sheets, feeling him respond to you immediately, his grip on you tightening as he spurted his load inside you. As he did, he whispered words that sent a rush of heat through your body. “You’re even more perfect than anything else in this world,” he breathed, his voice rough with satisfaction.

The two of you collapsed onto the bed, bodies tangled together, your breaths mingling in the air around you. He kissed you all over, gentle and tender, his lips trailing along your jaw, down to your neck, as though he couldn’t get enough of you.

When his lips finally met yours again, soft and lingering, he pulled away slightly, his breath still ragged. “Round two?” he asked, his voice full of playful desire. “The shower?”

You smiled, running your hands through his hair, your body still humming with the aftermath of the moment. “You want me again that quickly?” you teased.

His eyes sparkled with mischief and hunger. “Always. I can’t get enough of you.”

You kissed him again, feeling the heat between you reignite. “Let’s see if you can keep up,” you said, your tone playful yet commanding.

He smiled, his hands already pulling you up, ready to take you to the shower where you could take him however you wanted again.

[awynter]

His fervor was met with equal enthusiasm, her hands grasping the fabric of his clothes to pull him close the second the door closed behind them. She knew she ought to be ashamed for how desperate she felt, but it had been so long since she'd even dreamt of being touched by a man, let alone wanted it. And she wanted nothing more in this moment than to be ravished by him.

“Yes,” She nodded with a breathless chuckle, wrapping her arms around him to anchor him in place. It was more than alright, but words felt too far out of reach for her to say anything more. Her cheeks burned with anticipation and excitement, every fiber of her being alight with the need to have him on her, in her, around her. She felt like a fiend, his lips like sweet opium that she could never get enough of.

“Don’t worry,” As he moved to shed his coat, Anne steppes forward to help, even though her presence surely only made it hardly to remove his clothes. Her body felt magnetized, his gravitational pull making it impossible for her to resist. After pulling his face down to hers for another quick, but needy kiss, Anne stepped back. Her fingers fumbled at the lacing of her dress, pulling and tugging impatiently until the fabric around her chest loosened. She moved to peel the top layer of her dress off, tossing it on top of his coat with a grin. “Luckily for you, I’m an excellent teacher.”

It didn’t bear saying that it had been quite a while since she’d done anything like this, either. It had been nearly a decade since she'd given her body to any man, and nearly just as long since she'd even been touched by a man. But her body practically moved on its own, instinct leading the way much like it had in her youth. It was almost amusing to think that her exile hadn't changed much when it came to her wanton desires.

Her heart raged beneath the bones of her stay, demanding to be set free from the caging, but all Anne could think about was Ben and how much she wanted him. She needed more, like an oasis in the desert, she couldn't drink enough of him. She pulled him back in to smatter wet kisses along his neck while her hands lowered to his breeches.

“Take them off.” She commanded huskily against his throat, a mischievous glimmer in her eye as she met his gaze. Greedily, she tugged to raise the hem of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers. “I’ll take care of the rest, I promise.”

Her hands came to his face, warm and gentle as he edged his cheek into her open palms. When was the last time anyone had told him he was deserving of anything, let alone love? Benjamin could scarcely hold himself upright -- not with her lips grazing his own, and the soft, starlit shadow of her eyes peering up at him so pleadingly.

"Have we not wasted enough time with such concerns?" he asked, gently brushing his thumb over her lips. "I'm yours, Anne. Wholly, devotedly."

Her fingers wove through his hair, and then her mouth was suddenly on his, fierce and heated as she struggled to get closer. Equally desperate for her, Benjamin melted into her kiss, pulling and groping at every sacred inch before she suddenly staggered away from him, breathless and teary-eyed within the moonlight.

"...Ben?" Her lips grazed his own, and he had to suppress a shudder. "How far away, exactly, is your cottage?"

Biting back a shy grin, his laughter came out soft and tinged with relief. "Not far," he reassured. "If you promise to behave yourself, I can lead the way..."

--

As it turned out, it was Benjamin who failed in his attempts at propriety. The moment they came through the door, he swung Anne around and they fell upon it, his mouth clashing with hers and his fingers clumsily tugging at her lacing. Rejoining their lips after a slew of eager kisses to her chin, neck, and collarbone, Benjamin drank of her with a growing need, his hips grinding into hers before he withdrew enough to gauge her for a reaction.

"All right?" he asked, breathless as he moved to cup her face. "I haven't...n-not in a long while..." Face burning from the truth of his limited experience, he shrugged free of his frock coat and tossed it over a nearby chair, far too inflamed to bear the additional coverage a moment longer.

[criticallyinneedofadar]

Hello!

Could you do Celebrimbor pov while his falling in love with one of the singing teachers of Eregion, pls?

(Celebrimbor x fReader)

Thank you!

This was such a sweet ask! I love nervous/flustered Celebrimbor!

Steel and Song

The forge had been unusually unkind that day, its heat mirroring the restless fire within Celebrimbor’s mind. His thoughts, usually sharp and precise, tangled like an unruly chain. Setting aside his tools with a sigh, he sought refuge in a place far removed from the clang of hammers and the glow of molten metal—the singing halls of Eregion.

Nestled on the eastern edge of the city, the halls were surrounded by flowering trees that swayed to their own gentle rhythm. From within came the intertwined voices of young and old, melodies reaching skyward like birds in flight.

Celebrimbor had no intention of lingering, but as he passed beneath the archways, a clear, strong voice caught him mid-step. His gaze was drawn through an open doorway, where a woman stood before a gathering of elflings.

Her name was Y/N. She stood tall and graceful, her hands moving as though shaping the very air, guiding the young ones through their song. Her laughter rang out when one child stumbled over a note, light and warm, encouraging rather than scolding. The child smiled in return, their confidence restored by her patience.

He told himself he was merely observing. It was a lord’s duty to know his people, after all. But the next day, he returned. And the day after that.

Y/N taught more than children. Travelers, artisans, and warriors alike joined her lessons, setting aside their burdens to sing. Celebrimbor lingered in the shadows, content to remain unnoticed until, one afternoon, her gaze caught his.

She approached him during a break, her steps unhurried and her expression curious. “My lord Celebrimbor,” she greeted, inclining her head with a smile that was neither fearful nor deferential. “I’ve noticed you watching my classes. Are you seeking instruction?”

The question startled him. He, a master craftsman, unshaken by the most complex of creations, now found himself tongue-tied. Her gaze was steady, yet kind, and he blurted out, “Yes. Yes, I am.”

Her eyebrows rose slightly, surprise flickering across her face. “A lord of your renown, interested in song?”

He cleared his throat, feeling the heat of embarrassment rising. “Well… I thought it might be a useful distraction.”

Her smile widened, and she nodded. “Then let us begin tomorrow.”

The next day found Celebrimbor seated among her students, acutely aware of his inadequacies. His voice, unpracticed and hesitant, stood in sharp contrast to the melodic ease of those around him. Y/N, however, offered no criticism, only gentle corrections. Still, he caught the amused quirk of her lips when his notes faltered, as they often did, into something closer to a croak.

By the lesson’s end, it was painfully clear to both teacher and student that he had no gift for song, nor any real desire to pursue it. As the other students filtered out, Celebrimbor lingered, knowing he owed her the truth.

When she approached him, her expression was kind but curious. “You don’t enjoy this, do you?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No. I owe you an apology for wasting your time.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “Then why agree to the lessons?”

He hesitated only briefly before the truth slipped out. “Because I wanted to meet you.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she said nothing. Celebrimbor braced himself for laughter or disapproval, but neither came. Instead, her gaze softened, and she smiled—not the indulgent smile of a teacher humoring a poor student, but one touched with understanding.

“You might have simply introduced yourself,” she said lightly, though a faint blush crept across her cheeks.

“Easier said than done,” he admitted, his own cheeks burning.

She laughed then, a bright, musical sound that lifted the weight from his chest. “Well, Lord Celebrimbor, if you ever find yourself in need of a distraction again, the singing halls will always welcome you.”

Though he knew he would never master song, Celebrimbor found himself returning—not for the lessons, but for her. For Y/N, whose voice and spirit stirred something within him that even the finest forge could not.

[ofthemorningstars]

The Bonds of Sisterhood

TerzOmega ~ Family Fluff ~ Resurrection AU 3.6 Words Ao3 Version

“ 'Are you ready to do it again?' he breathed against Terzo's mouth before kissing him tenderly. Terzo returned the kiss with hesitation, not understanding why his heart was in his throat.

'Mio caro, what are you–' Terzo started before being cut off.

'We’re having another kit.' "

Omega and Terzo are expecting their second child, but there seems to be a strange connection between her and their firstborn. Content Warning: mpreg(cis) ---

Terzo was tired. It had taken nearly an hour and a half of reading and soothing, but Starlight was finally asleep. He wondered what was up with her; she had been so riled up tonight, so hyperactive and excited.

Terzo loved his daughter more than life itself, but he'd been feeling so exhausted these last few weeks… He was in dire need of some rest. Satanas, he was grateful that he had such a good husband, always eager to help. Terzo spied said husband reading on the sofa and flopped down dramatically next to him, earning an amused kiss on the cheek.

“Rough night, huh?” Omega's tone was sympathetic. Terzo nuzzled his face into the crook of Omega's neck, inhaling deeply; mmh, his partner had been smelling really good lately. He wondered what Omega had been doing differently. Terzo reluctantly hummed in the affirmative, not wanting to complain about their only child. “I would've helped, tesoro, but you kept shooing me away,” Omega reminded him, cracking a smile at being able to have an “I told you so” moment. Terzo shoved him playfully, grumbling. 

“It was my turn! I can handle a two year old on my own, thank you very much,” Terzo snarked, furrowing his brow and sticking his tongue out in faux offense; Omega ignored him with a smirk. Terzo took a moment to examine his nails, disappointed in himself for having bitten them down to nubs yet again. He had been doing so well at keeping his nail biting under control since Starlight was born, but these last few weeks had been particularly stressful.  It was a shame, really.

When he looked back up, Omega had a shocked, far-off look in his eyes as he stared into the distance, his ears twitching. 

“Amore?” Terzo prodded his arm, concerned. 

His gaze darted back to Terzo, who watched as a slow, mischievous grin spread across his husband's face. To his confusion, he felt Omega's hand slide its way down his body, coming to rest on his trim stomach. Leaning in close, Omega made as if to steal a kiss, but instead let his lips linger on Terzo's.

“Are you ready to do it again?” he breathed against Terzo's mouth before kissing him tenderly. Terzo returned the kiss with hesitation, not understanding why his heart was in his throat.

“Mio caro, what are you–” Terzo started before being cut off. 

“We’re having another kit.”

—

Terzo huffed as both his husband and their daughter huddled around him on the sofa, ears pressed to his still-flat belly as though doing so could amplify quintessence. Perhaps it could, who was he to say? Feeling overcrowded but full of love and gratitude, he reached out to place a hand on each of their heads, ruffling their matching white hair affectionately. 

Terzo knew their kit could reach out to Omega with its quintessence already; it was how Omega had identified the fact that Terzo was finally carrying their child after so many months of trying. His ghoul had been the first to know both times now. Terzo hoped they'd get the chance to do it again, to make it a tradition.

What Terzo never considered, though, was Starlight being able to sense her sibling's budding quintessence as well. He didn’t know why he hadn’t given it any thought, since he knew she also had inherited her father’s quintessence. The two used it with each other all the time, even before she was born, just like this new baby.  

“Papa, what do you think her name is?” Starlight asked excitedly, sitting up to stretch. Terzo looked surprised. 

“Her?” Terzo asked quizzically. 

“My baby sister!” she said indignantly. Terzo and Omega traded a look. 

“La mia piccola stella, how do you know it's a girl? Papa and Daddy don’t even know that yet. We have to go to the doctor to find out,” Terzo said with confusion. Starlight made a face like Terzo was asking the most obvious question in the world.

“Because she is!” Starlight smacked her forehead dramatically in the way that only a toddler could, earning a chuckle from her Daddy. 

“I guess we'll see if you're right tomorrow, little Star. Maybe you know something we don't.” Omega kissed the top of her head before attacking her with a round of tickles, earning a delighted squeal from the little ghoul. 

The next day, Terzo was glad they had brought Starlight to the appointment. He wouldn't have given up seeing her smug smile when they found out she was right for anything. 

—

“I don't think my baby sister wants that, Papa,” Starlight cautioned from her booster seat as Terzo raised his fork to his mouth, the three of them having just sat down for dinner. 

He looked down at his plate: parmesan-crusted chicken, roasted broccoli, potatoes au gratin. Perfectly balanced and wonderfully flavorful, thanks to the efforts of his talented husband. Terzo made a face. He knew what she was playing at. 

“Oh yeah? And what does she want?” Terzo rested his head in his hands, giving his daughter a serious look despite his growing amusement. This wasn't the first time she'd played this game. 

“Chocolate cake!” Her mismatched eyes lit up as she clapped her hands. Terzo hid an adoring smile behind his hand.

“Mmhm, you mean like the chocolate cake Daddy made yesterday?” Starlight nodded enthusiastically. Terzo had a hard time taking the cherubic little face across the table from him seriously when she did this. Every other night, it seemed, they would inevitably be treated to tales of how the baby wanted this sweet or the other. Being the doting fathers they were, they had a hard time telling their firstborn no, and Terzo swore she knew this, even at her tender age.

They told their angel that they would only get chocolate cake if all of them finished their food, and Starlight pouted but cleaned her plate nonetheless. They ate dessert together, Omega jokingly thanking their unborn daughter for the idea. 

Late that night, Terzo had a hard time falling asleep. He was having cravings. BAD cravings. Cravings for that damned chocolate cake. 

He snuck out of bed and into the kitchen, careful not to wake anyone. He greedily devoured the remaining two slices of cake by himself, dreading the embarrassment of having to explain himself to Omega tomorrow. He knew Omega would be positively delighted, which somehow made it worse. 

He chalked the cravings up to the power of suggestion, but finally felt satisfied as he made his way back to bed, placing a hand on his growing bump as he felt a flutter.

—

Terzo was enjoying his bath, the heat of the water relaxing his aching muscles. He sighed. Baths had always been one of his favorite ways to treat himself, but since his oldest had been getting more rambunctious and required more attention, he often opted for taking quick showers instead. He knew Omega could handle her on his own, but secretly he didn’t want to miss out on any of her “terrible twos”, no matter how treacherous they proved to be. He treasured every moment that they got together. 

Terzo was drawn out of his thoughts by a frantic pounding on the door, making him jump.

“Papa! You need to get out of the water, my baby sister is too hot!” Starlight cried, sounding worryingly upset. Terzo’s hands flew to the soft swell of his stomach, mouth agape. He didn’t understand how Starlight even knew he was in the bath. She had already gone to bed for the night, she was supposed to be asleep!

He thought back to the parenting books he and Omega had read when they were expecting Starlight, realizing to his horror that she was right. The temperatures he preferred were much warmer than what he’d let himself use when he was pregnant previously, and were definitely unsafe for a developing kit. He flipped the drain and hurriedly climbed out of the tub, toweling off and donning his plush bathrobe.

When he opened the door, Starlight was still standing there teary-eyed, her bottom lip quivering. Omega was kneeling beside her with a hand on her shoulder. He and Omega locked eyes for a moment, reeling with shock. Terzo drew his daughter into a tight hug, holding her close and rubbing her back. “Thank you, la mia brillante principessa. What would I do without you?” He crouched down to cup her face in his hands, peppering her cheeks with kisses. She still looked worried. “Everyone is ok, my little Star baby. You saved the day!” Terzo promised her, situating her on his hip as he rose to his feet. Together they settled her down into her bed again, tucking her in and sitting with her until she fell asleep. In their own bed, Terzo and Omega faced each other, a weary look on Omega’s face as his hand rested protectively on Terzo’s belly. “I feel so bad about what happened,” Terzo murmured, his face heating up with shame. “Don’t, mio amato. It was an innocent mistake.” Omega cooed, brushing Terzo’s hair out of his eyes. Terzo changed the subject, trying to take his mind off of his feelings of guilt. “Do you… think that Star really can connect with our kit? Sometimes better than you can, even?” Terzo asked sincerely. Omega thought for a moment before nodding. “It’s becoming more frequent, and more accurate. I can’t help but agree that something’s going on.” He pressed his forehead to Terzo’s, letting his eyes fall closed and sighing. Terzo could tell that Omega was breathing in his scent, enjoying his pheromones as he often did. “That’s not a bad thing. Shouldn’t we want our children to be close?” Terzo nodded, nuzzling against Omega’s cheek. “Sì. You’re right. It just freaked me out, in the moment.” Terzo cracked a smile. “She is so smart. Sometimes I cannot believe that we got so lucky.” Omega kissed him softly, his fangs nipping at Terzo’s bottom lip. 

“Every day that we have together is lucky. I’ll never stop being grateful,” Omega said against Terzo’s skin when the kiss broke, his fingers tracing lightly along the scar that spanned Terzo’s neck. “Never.” Terzo hummed in agreement as he finally relaxed from the stress of the last hour. They fell asleep in each other’s arms. 

—

“No, that's not quite it either.” The little family had been agonizing as a group over what to name their newest addition for months now, but nothing had seemed to fit. Nothing was good enough.

They were all gathered at the kitchen table, once again going over their ever-growing list. Starlight’s face was a mask of seriousness well beyond her years as she sat perched in her booster seat to Terzo's left. Terzo wanted to smother her chubby cheeks with kisses, but he restrained himself, focusing on the task at hand. 

Omega was seated to Terzo's right, leaning his head on Terzo's shoulder in defeat. They were all ready to call it a night. Terzo felt a sharp kick to the ribs, as if to emphasize the point.

“Alright, my darlings,” Terzo said with a sigh, wrapping an arm around each of them. He tried to keep an enthusiastic tone, if only for Starlight’s sake. “One last run-through of the remaining names here. If we do not like any of them, we shall start over again tomorrow. Okay?” Both of the ghouls nodded, Starlight rubbing at tired eyes. 

“In keeping with the eh… cosmic theme we have going, I present: Celeste, Lyra, Nova, Cassiopeia, Luna, Aurora…” Terzo droned until he was interrupted by a big yawn from Starlight. He kissed the top of her head and kept going, wanting to speed through the list so that they could send her off to bed. It was getting late. 

“Diana, Halley, Estella, Phoebe, Andromeda, Selena, Astra, Jupit–”

“Wait!” Starlight immediately perked up, startling both of her parents. “What was the last one, Papa?!”

“What, Jupiter?” Terzo asked, confused. Sure, it was a pretty name, but it hadn't particularly stood out from the bunch. 

“No! The one before that!” She smacked her hands down on the table, an uncharacteristically aggressive gesture from the normally sweet girl. 

“Astra…?” Terzo asked cautiously, not wanting to rile her up further.

“Yeah!” the toddler exclaimed, patting her Papa on the back. His heart melted at the gesture, putty in her hands as always. “But it's not right. She needs something prettier!” Starlight chewed on her hand absently, appearing to be thinking it over.

“Hmm. You're right, little Star… How do we make that prettier?” Omega smiled at her, although his head was now fully on the table. 

“Astra… Astri… Astro…?” Terzo could see the cogs turning in her brain. “Oh, I know! Astrid!” She paused, closing her eyes and concentrating hard. “Yeah! She likes that one!” She gave them a toothy grin, looking pleased with herself.  

Her fathers looked at each other, taking a long moment to mull it over. Omega was the first to crack, a bright smile slowly dawning over his face like a morning sunrise. Terzo wasn't long to follow, breaking out into barely suppressed peals of laughter. 

“Hey! It's not funny, Papa, don't laugh at m–” was all she managed to get out before Terzo scooped her up in his arms, sitting her on the table in front of them and attacking her with kisses, finishing off his assault with a tickle to her ribs for good measure. Omega caught her before she could fall back onto the table as she screeched. 

“La mia magnifica bambina, it is perfetto!” He kissed her again, squarely between the eyes. Omega sat her in his lap, spoiling her with kisses of his own, not one to be left out. 

“Astrid is perfect, Starlight! You’re such a good big sister,” Omega crowed, echoing his husband as he squeezed her tightly before she tried to wriggle out of his grasp. 

Neither of Starlight's fathers could have, in that moment, articulated exactly what it was that made that name so much better than the others. All they knew was that it felt right. It instantly clicked, they didn't even need to think about it. Her name simply was Astrid.

Everyone went to bed happy that night, Terzo drifting off with his mate's arms wrapped tightly around him, precious baby Astrid beneath their fingertips.

—

Terzo and Starlight were snuggled up together in the recliner, her favorite place to sit with her Papa, rocking gently. The 1998 production of Cats played at low volume, one of his daughter's favorite movies. She sucked her thumb in an effort to keep calm and quiet instead of humming along. Ordinarily she loved to duet with her Papa, but not today, he had told her. She couldn’t remember all of the words, but her fathers applauded her every time. 

They were trying to give Omega some much-needed rest after being called away during the day for most of the last week. Copia had asked him to help train a new ghoul on rhythm guitar, and Terzo had urged him into saying yes, knowing he needed more social interaction. Omega had gotten back early today and had been sleeping soundly in their room for the past hour.

“Papa?” Starlight was trying to keep her voice down, but couldn't hide her curiosity.

“Yes, my dear?” Terzo answered sweetly, always wanting to encourage her to ask questions. 

“How many sisters and brothers am I gonna have after Astrid gets here?” Starlight patted Terzo’s rounded middle for emphasis. Terzo felt his face heat up at being put on the spot about something so serious and personal to all of them.

“Well, ah… That is a complicated question, little Star,” Terzo replied, keeping his tone light. “Papa and Daddy would love to have as many children as fate sees fit to give us. But it is not always that simple.” He paused for a moment. “I… think what is most important is that you know we will be happy no matter how big our family is. If we only ever have you and Astrid, we will be just as happy as if we had ten children running around.

“Hmm…” she didn't seem happy with this answer. “Two sounds boring, though!” Terzo frowned in dismay. 

“Well, why don't you see what your sister thinks we should do? No one has even asked for her opinion yet,” Terzo teased. Starlight didn't seem to catch the mirth in his voice, pressing her ear to her Papa’s belly even though Terzo knew she didn't need to in order to “hear” her sister. She closed her eyes for such a long moment that he wondered if she had fallen asleep, when suddenly she popped back up again. 

“Astrid says that she doesn't care as long as I'm here,” she finally answered with a smile. Terzo wanted in that moment to hold Starlight tightly and never let go, but he maintained his composure. 

“See? Then we will take it one step at a time, no?” 

The little girl seemed content with this answer, relaxing again into Terzo’s side. Her tail swished happily when her Papa scratched between her horns. 

—

It was nearing Astrid’s third hour of shrieking, and Terzo was beginning to feel like crying himself. Their second child was fussier than Starlight had been at her age, but usually not this fussy. 

He and Omega had been trading her back and forth, trying in vain to soothe her. One played with Starlight while the other rocked Astrid, walking her around their quarters and trying everything they could to calm her down. Their poor darling had been screaming until her face was flushed a much darker purple than her usual dusky skin tone, and both of her fathers were growing concerned. 

Starlight stormed out of the room that she shared with her sister, Omega trailing after her. Her hands were over her ears, and she looked irate. Terzo looked at the clock; it was well past Starlight’s nap time. No wonder she was cranky. 

“Papa!” Starlight drew his name out. “Astrid is upset because her new clothes are too itchy, you need to change her!” she pleaded, sounding like she was repeating herself for the hundredth time. Terzo quirked an eyebrow, but after the day they’d all had and after everything he’d seen between the two sisters, he was inclined to believe her. He quickly swapped the offending outfit for something softer, and just like that, she calmed within minutes. They settled her down in the bassinet in her parents’ room, Terzo still too nervous to let her sleep by herself in the crib until she was a little older. As they tucked a very sleepy Star in for her long overdue nap, Terzo couldn’t help but ask the question on the tip of his tongue. 

“Star… How did you know what was wrong with Astrid?” Starlight made a face, as she often did when questioned about this. “I told you, Papa, she told me!” Starlight huffed, beginning to tear up. “Ok, ok. I believe you, la mia gioia. But… if she told you, why didn’t you say something earlier?” Terzo asked gently. Starlight’s eyes grew wide, and Terzo hoped she didn’t think she was in trouble. He ran his fingers through her silky hair to try and reassure her. “I thought Daddy could hear her too,” she mumbled, eyes shifting between Omega and Terzo. She looked confused as Omega hesitantly shook his head. “I guess I’m not as good as you, little Star.” Omega flashed her the brightest smile he could muster before leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Get some rest now, we’ll be here when you wake up.” The couple walked into the sitting room hand in hand, collapsing onto the sofa together. Terzo curled up next to Omega, leaning heavily on his beloved ghoul. He rubbed at his temples in an attempt to ward off the headache that was threatening to strike. Omega wrapped an arm around Terzo’s shoulders to pull him close. They sat in silence for a long moment. “I can’t believe I didn’t pick up on that…” Omega said sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. Terzo leaned up to kiss his neck. “It’s not your fault, mio caro.” Terzo trailed a line of kisses up to Omega’s jaw. “I do not think we can explain the connection they have. But clearly, it is quite strong.” Omega’s face flushed. “Yeah, but I’m her father. You’d think I’d be better at this.” Omega’s tail was flicking back and forth in agitation; he was mad at himself. Terzo’s heart broke for him. He pulled Omega’s face down to his, taking a kiss. Omega was stiff at first, his jaw clenched, but after a moment he relaxed and kissed back. When they broke apart for air, Terzo began playing with Omega’s horns, fingertips delicately stroking along their length. Omega closed his eyes and leaned into his touch, almost purring. “You are an amazing father. Please don’t forget that.” Terzo gave his husband a soft smile. “Star and Astrid just have a special bond. What was it you asked me before, shouldn’t we want them to be close? It means that we are doing something right. It doesn’t mean they are closer to each other than they are to you, or to me. I promise you, they both love their Daddy, and their Papa.” Omega couldn’t help but grin. Despite the stress of the day, Terzo’s heart felt full to bursting with pride for their girls. For his husband. For their family. 

The pair spooned together on the sofa, Omega letting Terzo take a nap while he kept an ear out for their daughters. He pressed his lips to Terzo’s hair as he drank in his mate’s comforting scent. Terzo dreamt only of the most important people in his world, resting safe and warm in Omega’s arms.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

As so many of you are filling my inbox asking about salad and why I found the fact they had two types of salad for dinner in the Buck and Tommy dinner scene so funny, I'm guessing you're new to the 911 fandom - Welcome if so! I am going to give you a very brief rundown of salad and Buck and Eddies various relationships, but @clusterbuck is actually the keeper of salad theory and you can find far more detailed analysis over on her blog than you’re getting from me here!!

I can't find gif of the actual salad moments so have pictures!!

Chris smashed salad bowl that he is making a salad in with his dad in season 4 (in Breaking point) - when he finds out about Ana being the person Eddie is dating.

We have Ana turn up at the firehouse with Chris during the black out in 5x02 with 5 - yes 5 - types of salad When Eddie has his second on screen panic about Ana - when Ravi mistakes her for his wife.

Then in 5x03 just before they break up - Eddie, Chris, and Ana are at the dining table in the Diaz house and they are eating fruit salad

Then in 5x05 we have Taylor with her prepackaged fruit salad breakfast the she has 'made' for Buck when he gets home

she is making a bean salad in 5x09 during the most awkward I love you scene in the history of television!

Then we have a caprese salad in front of Natalia during the Dinner Buck cooked for her in 5x17 - when she finds out about various aspects of Bucks past and present - Taylor on the tv and Kameron turns up

Then in 7x07 - when Eddie is daydreaming of a do over with Shannon during his lunch with Marisol they are eating a salad

then we now have Buck and Tommy eating two different types of salad (a pasta salad and a salad salad) on their dinner date

so basically it's become a bit of a running joke that if salad is involved with Buck or Eddie and one of their dates (especially in their own homes) , the relationship is doomed!

[clubsmarties]

"No one is as interesting as you are," he let out an amused chuckle at that. "Is it really a bother? I see it as a helpful sit and chat, keeps you from boring yourself to death looking at files over and over." He shrugged slightly even though she couldn't see him and smiled. "Yeah, you're right maybe I shouldn't skip leg day so often. But funny coming from the girl who doesn't want to hike up the mountain near my house because of how steep it is." The banter was what kept him entertained and no one did it like Liz did. She kept his mind on its toes and he liked that. "I hate to break it to you again but I'm not interested in meeting someone else. I don't want anyone else. All I want and need is on the other end of this line." He made sure to make it clear otherwise she was liable to think he was talking about someone else. "You think anyone else would match my vibe as well as you do? No ma'am." Wally laughed knowing his slight Louisiana accent came through. "Why are you so insistent on me finding someone else anyway?"

"Still no secret that the CIA and FBI boys don't play well with each other. I'm actually surprised Marson let this happen. He's got FBI in his department. Think he'd be disinfecting that office every time." He laughed and sighed. "Well, if I'm Mulder than you're definitely Sully. So, you'd be getting an invite to your own wedding."

He shook his head and cleared his throat. "No need to thank me. It was easiest the best decision I've made. She likes you and that is more than enough for me to let you dogsit. She's a good judge of character," hearing her low bark made him chuckle telling her what a good girl she was. "She may be a great tour guide. I should look into that. Did she do that nose thing when you guys were out on a walk? When she stands on her hind legs and starts sticking her nose up in the air. That's her trying her tracking skills out. She has only done that twice with me and once with my sisters. Wonder if she did it with you."

The condom method had him in a quick laughing fit as he couldn't get a word out for a second. After that he caught his breath and couldn't help but smile affectionately at her words. "Wise words there. I guess when you put it that way, makes sense. Also makes you sound like a girl scout. Don't tell me you were one before?" He was but it was for a very brief time in his life. It was also where his agent call sign came from. "Hey, but really. I wouldn't let you down. I give you my word if you trust me, no harm will come to you or your legs on adventure week." He wanted to say he was always thinking about her but refrained. "Of course. I mean it is an important case for you so why wouldn't I keep a lookout for anything that could help you."

When she switched to video the last thing he ever expected was to see her in his hoodie. All cozy like. That was a sight that would surely give him nice little dreams. She looked exceptionally beautiful and he had no words to express that. His smile though, did give him away since his eyes gave her the shimmer they did when she amused him. He'd recognize his furball against the sleeve of his hoodie. It had been his favorite one because it gave warmth but now it became his favorite because she wore it.

Locking eyes was like two stars collided with each other and a clusterfuck of lights surrounded them. He smiled softly as he saw her face that he had missed for a few days now. "I agree but I also have to say that her murder is still a novelty to every agency. That and the Black Dahlia. She was a sex symbol and no one wants to let her rest. Most people don't know she was more than the ditzy bombshell she played on screen. But that conversation a lot are not ready for." Hearing her take on ghosts was refreshing, it felt like he was actually getting a look inside her mind. He hummed to show her he was listening and arranged his bottom half to fit under the covers better.

"That's an interesting take. I mean, I know I miss nana so sometimes I can see her in dreams. Sometimes I can hear her laugh in the hallway. No one laughed like she did." Nana wasn't his grandmother, he didn't share any blood with her but she had seen him grow up. Diana's mother was Nana to him and forever would be. He had told Liz about Nana when she had passed so he didn't need to explain it further than that, she'd know who he was talking about. "I believe merpeople exist. Fairies too. It would take someone who has zero creativity to not believe that we weren't the only entities around. Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they aren't here. Yeah," he nodded and sighed. "I do believe in ghosts. I don't want to see one but I do believe in them. It'd be hard not to since I know people who have certain gifts. Not a psychic, they're not always real but I do. Just like people out here get jobs to help others. I believe there are a few who are born to help ghosts find their way." His mind going back to Jax and Matt. What Wally believed easily, wasn't the case for his dear friend and brother.

His eyes held the same curiosity they always did when something caught him off guard. Her request wasn't outlandish at all but it still made him chuckle and happily abided. His hand popped up from under the covers and fixed his bang. He tucked it behind his ear and the other side framed his face a little better. "Better?" His hand made a show of his face and smiled showing off his dimple on his cheek. "Might it have something to do with the hair obstructing my eyes?"

He scrolled up on his phone to show his calendar and read through his schedule. "Traveling to Forest City. Sierra County folks are always so welcoming but I'll have to leave the suit behind. I'll get to look like smokey the bear out there. I'm just shadowing tomorrow it seems but still walking a whole hell of a lot. I'm kind of excited to see the giant trees and see what the small town has to offer. May buy the second gift I've gotten for you. Souvenirs and the like. I've seen ten penny makers on my journey so you know Annie is going to be a happy little camper. Got a cool little handkerchief for Dolly. And for you, well that is what you'll see when I get back. What's on the agenda tomorrow for you two girls?" When he looked down he saw Dolly's head resting on her chest and that sight had him silently take a picture.

That earned a well-deserved eye roll but it was quickly gone with a chuckle as she heard his laugh. Listening, she could see the park before her, and gave occasional little sounds of confirmation to let him know that she was paying attention. "Sounds like you've been skipping leg day at the gym. You should start taking longer walks with Dolly. Might meet some more interesting people than me to bother on your days off." It was a small implanted suggestion that she hoped he would take into consideration.

"I know all you boys have your secrets. I know the CIA's and the Air forces in Nevada and I know you boys have your small subsection as well." Her time in Vegas came to mind and the finger one of the agents, a regular at the club she was dancing at, twitched at the memory of it. Though it had healed well, it still bothered her when the weather was cold and she couldn't fold it completely when making a fist. "If you do you might be partnered up with your Scully. If you are, I will need an invite to the wedding, after all, it was my idea that led you there, so you're welcome future Wally."

At hearing Wally, Dolly nuzzled against Elizabeth's chin wanting to listen in and let out a small ruff at the words he said. With a giggle, she put it on speaker mode so the pup could hear him clearer. "I should be thanking her for the company. And you for letting me watch her. The days seem to be flying by with her around. and she gives me an excuse to finally go exploring around the island like I wanted to." There was something to be said about the way that he was willing to talk about anything else than what she knew would be the biggest thorn in her side while trying to get the office ready for her to leave. So she let herself be distracted by him talking about his day. Letting a groan out at the simple mistakes some people made.

"I'm always preparing, there's a difference. It's like the condom motto, it's better to have one and not need it than to need it and not have it." Cuddling against Dolly she added. "Dolly's different and you know it." Rolling her eyes she added. "Yes, I know they jump, but its better than being kicked by hind legs of a powerful animal or be thrown from one."

Oh, now that was promising. “Well it’s been a while since I’ve been out there, this sounds like the perfect excuse to travel for a bit.” Settling into a kore comfortable position, she sighed. As much as she poked fun at him for being tired, the recent uptake on hikes and walks with Dolly around was tiring her too. “Thanks for that. Can’t believe you were thinking about my case while working on yours.”

Hearing the all-familiar tone of a video call, she shifted around so she was still cuddling Dolly but she had become all too conscious about the fact that she was wearing his sweater. Hoped the fact that she was holding the phone out so Dolly was in front of her would help hide it. Knowing him, he would see it and use it as an excuse to tease her about possibly missing him, which she didn't. She only wore it because it was the coziest thing she had at the moment, he hadn't lied when he talked about how soft it was. It felt like a lot like a hug.

After settling into a position, she let it switch over and it took a moment to adjust seeing how much darker it was on his end. His green eyes shone like twinkling emerald stars, taking her off guard for a second. "The Roosevelt, she only lived there for a very short period of time. If anything she'd be at the Brentwood estate she was found at. I don't know why people can't let that poor woman be. She suffered enough when she was alive." Magnus was an old Hollywood lover and would waste no moment to show her the old movies or tell her what he knew about them. Most of her aliases came from those old movies. The laugh was a small one, it wasn't at him but at the idea of that hallway having a poltergeist. "If that were the case we would all already have one attached to each of us, this planet has been spinning for so long that if everyone became ghosts, by now we would all have one."

It felt like the lighthouse all over again, questions she thought she would be asked or had ever thought about before, that somehow only felt like a Wally thing. Whether it be the agent training or the curiosity he seemed to have, she would indulge for now, he had after all let his dog stay with her. Pondering the question over a moment, she thought about all the times that she thought she saw her dad in places over the years in her travels. When visiting parks that they had visited, mostly in California which he always loved. She remembered Jennifer telling him once that he might be John Muir reincarnated. With a sigh, she replied. "I read once that ghosts are a lot things to people. That sometimes they are a daydream or guilt or anger or even a memory. I think sometimes people wish for someone to be around so much that they can conjure their own ghosts. But," she laughed. "I also come from people who believe in fairies and merpeople and trolls, and ghosts too. So I think it would be silly for me to say that they don't exist in a way. And I guess you obviously do or else we wouldn't be having this conversation, right?"

There was that bit of hair that seemed to always be in his face when he let his hair down. She wanted to reach out and tuck behind his ear as she had before he left but couldn't. "Hey," there was something about not being able to look into his eyes unobstructed that seemed to bother her at the moment. "Sorry, but ," she pointed towards her face as if to mimic the tucking motion. "Can you... I don't know why but it's bugging me." It was then that she realized, as the memory of the last time he was there came back that not only was she sleeping in his hoodie, he had slept in her bed and she was cozying up to his dog while on the phone with him. Something strange stirred in her, but she ignored it chalking it up to just being tired. He'd fall asleep before she did though if she kept him talking. "So what's on the agenda for tomorrow?"

[gifti3]

Can we talk about how ichika in collar x malice doesnt know a thing about games and is also technology illiterate

[hvrtbroken]

his eyebrows stay curved together , like caterpillars meeting halfway across his forehead . he feels a relief tug within him at her statement that HE HELPS HER FEEL LIKE HERSELF . all he's ever wanted , this entire time , is for star to feel safe and happy . the latter part especially started paving its way within him the last few months . he always just wanted to be good at his job , make sure he can protect people who can't protect themselves or need the extra help . he never thought about people who've ALREADY been hurt . nico can't help but think of his little sister . if anyone treated carmela the way that star's ex had treated her , he'd probably end up in jail . him and his brother have done everything in their power to make sure she understands what to do when a guy is terrible, how to recognise the signs , when to get out . IT'S A SHITTY THING TO HAVE TO TEACH ANYONE , let alone someone you love .

the engine of the car gently hums beneath them . he's glad for the additional noise to keep it from being TOO QUIET between them as they try to navigate through this new water . star's words are filled with starts and stops . she fumbles , and he realises this is probably her first time , too . she only had her EX before , and he was far from exemplary ( not that nico is much to write home about , but he knows he's better than THAT guy ) . nico reaches across the centre console and gently swipes back a few strands of her hair . " okay. " he says , because that's his favourite word , and with her he really means it . OKAY . WE'RE OKAY . YOU'RE OKAY . IT'S ALL OKAY . nico shakes his head just once . " no more apologies . " nico's lips quirk up though , in faint amusement. she's so good at them . he's glad this time it isn't just her default but something that makes sense to him : they had a misunderstanding . she's not apologising just for the sake of it . nico silently welcomes the change .

as she takes his hand in hers, nico feels like his entire body is water , flowing straight to her . he wants to fall right into her , crash to her body , hold her close to him . the way she takes his hand and presses it to her face , kisses his knuckles . somebody have mercy on him. he's just a man at the end of the day . " i know . " nico says , because he does . because to him , it's obvious . he never questions it or feels unsure . he knows star well enough to know that she only acts one way around him , and that's his assurance that they are something real . " i like you a lot too . " it sounds so pedestrian . so juvenile . the actual word he wants to say is too big , though . too soon . he rests his head against the car headrest , eyes staring at her , drinking her in . " i gotta take you home . " but the words sound reluctant even to his own ears . his hand on her face moves gently , slowly , thumb swiping just below her eye . " no matter what you tell me . . we'll always be okay . okay ? "

"no! not . . . not necessarily." sure, sex felt good and she loved it when it was with him. but more than that, being with nico felt right. felt like a decision that was her's, that she understood fully. maybe that was what she was trying to combat. rectifying her past mistakes — the mistakes of a scared, unsure girl — and replacing them with the firm, real decisions she made now. she just . . . maybe went about it the wrong way. should have thought about it more deeply instead of jumping into it without any other consideration. instead of doing something she regrets. she tries her best to simplify the complicated feelings into a sentence. "i wanted you because i want you. because i know i want you. because you make me feel like me. sex or not." doesn't know if it makes any sense, but doesn't backtrack. because it's true. the type of truth that's buried deep in her chest, that she hasn't even untangled for herself yet.

star waits patiently, doesn't prod. never does. she'll wait for him for as long as possible if she needs to. it's worth it. she's a little shocked when he pulls over, not expecting it, but doesn't complain. if anything, maybe, the quiet of the car makes her feel still. it's just the two of them. no one else. she feels her chest heave with emotion when he says the words, that he wants her. will always want her. has to breathe in slowly to stop herself from letting it get away from her too fast. "thank you," she whispers, feeling the weight on her melt slowly. listens to him continue, even if it stings a bit. because he's right. knows it, but needs it to be said, for her to confront it. nico has never been her ex, and this history she has needs to stop dictating who she is. even down to her asking for what she can give when maybe, she doesn't need to sometimes.

"i . . . i understand. i never want you to think i'm taking advantage of you. and i know you said to stop apologizing, but i feel like i have to say sorry for that." she nods this time, small yet firm. the apology is much more solid than the ones before. "i think i'll be okay. i'm working on it." has been saying this for years, but for once, she truly believes it. ( thinks about that therapist moon goes to, will ask him for help. ) she hesitates, wants to ask him if she can, but stops herself. she isn't going to let this stop her more than it already has. so carefully, searching for any sign as she reaches, byeol takes the hand he had on his face. takes it in both of her's, pulls it in closer toward her. feels right, finally holding him in a way. lifts then presses his knuckles to her cheek. wants to kiss his fingers, but settles for this for now, to have him close. physically and emotionally. to feel the gap between them closing again slowly. "i like you, nico. a lot. more than i can explain. i get scared about how intense it feels sometimes. but i know it's real. and i hope you always know that."

[parab0mb]

Out of all the changes and developments I’ve made to my OCs, I feel like the most standout for me personally has to be Molly Majacqueline, who was originally a shy and naive but ultimately good-natured person (kinda generic and boring too ngl) until in a stroke of sheer genius I was like "okay but what if I did a complete 180 with you and made you rude?"

She also became gay and French.

[dollgxtz]

Getting Closer

Word Count: 4.6k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, cnc, stalking roleplay, rough sex, taunting, home invasion roleplay, crying, pet names like kitten, and sweetie, spanking

AN: Hiii again! Tyvm for 900 notes on my last story!!! I didn't think dark romance content with Sylus would be popular with ppl (I keep seeing convos about people mis-characterizing him). But honestly I think people should write him however they see fit!! I love seeing different interpretations! However, one things for certain. This man is definitely into primal play and no one can convince me other wise. This is loosely based on the midnight stealth story where he says "You're pretty good at running away" and "I truly enjoy watching my little prey struggle, especially when it thinks it can escape from me"

AHHHH ENOUGH TYPING ENJOYYYYY!!! (✿˶’◡˘)♡

Its a late evening and you and your dearest coworker Tara (who you basically considered your bestie at this point) were having a delicious dinner at one of the most high rated restaurants in Linkon. What was the occasion? Nothing special actually, Tara was just an intense foodie and felt the need to drag you to practically every restaurant in the city when she was feeling a particular craving. Not that you minded, it was actually nice to get to do something other than fighting for once. The Wanderers had been getting more frequent lately, and it seemed like every other day you were being called to fight them off.

Tara was busy chatting away about her own exhaustion from work, how badly her last haircut had gone, and some guy she had met on the subway that couldn't seem to leave her alone. You could only giggle as she went on and on about him. Despite her obvious distaste for the guy, you thought he actually seemed pretty well rounded. You had been hesitating on telling her about Sylus. You didn't worry that he was going to leave you for Tara, nothing ridiculous like that. He was just...hard to explain. I mean what could you say?

"Oh yeah, I'm dating the leader of Onychinus, yeah the one that escaped from space prison and rules the N109 Zone...did I mention he probably owns this restaurant? But don't worry he's SUCH a sweet guy if you get to know him!"

Yeah...probably wouldn't go well. You let out an exasperated sigh, looking out of the restaurants tall window. It was a bit chilly tonight, no doubt it would start snowing soon. You turn to Tara again, whose still in the middle of her stories of her bad dates. You're about to ask her if she's ready for the check when your phone rings.

Tara gets a dangerous look in her eye and before you can even blink she snatches your phone off the table and abruptly answers.

"Is this the mysterious handsome boyfriend my friend wont tell me about?" she coos, blocking your attempts to grab your phone. "Tara!! Please!" you exclaim, trying your hardest to not get the attention of the other patrons.

You feel your ears heat up as you get up from the booth. She laughs at something he says as you finally get your device from her grasp. She huffs in amusement from her little joke. You put the phone to your ear to hear Sylus chuckling a bit.

"Sorry ...um, what did you want?" you say lowly, trying to get yourself together.

"I'm guessing that's...Tessa?" Sylus says, clearly amused by the situation. He's got that...tone in his voice. The one he uses when he's toying with you. You feel your face heat up, trying to keep your cool with Tara watching close next to you.

"Tara" you correct, coldly, shooting her a death glare. "She's still got a few screws loose clearly". She giggles at this comment and you sigh.

"She seems pretty funny to me"

"What did you want? I was just about to head ho-"

"I really like your hair today, kitten" Sylus says, his voice seemingly lower and...dark?

You feel the hairs on your neck stand up, immediately you begin to scan the restaurant. He hasn't seen you today at all...is he in the restaurant? Is Mephisto outside somewhere tattling again? You scan everywhere but no sight of either one of them.

"Cat got your tongue sweetie?"

You swallow, turning back to the phone. "I see you have nothing better to do than send that damn bird to spy on me again. I'm taking him apart when I find him" you say, trying your hardest to sound calm.

Tara tilts her head in confusion, and you give her an awkward grin. Dammit. You'll have to explain it off as an inside joke or something later. Sylus chuckles again on the other end, sending a million thoughts racing in your head.

"Who said anything about Mephisto? He's back at home, probably resting".

"Then how..." your voice trails off, the words seemingly stuck in your throat. Curse this man, always playing his stupid mind games with you.

"What do you mean how? I can see you of course. How else would I know sweetie?"

Ah...so he is here. He's just hiding from you, probably enjoying the look of your panicked face and you wiping your sweaty palms on your skirt.

"That skirt will roll up pretty easy don't you think, kitten?" Sylus says, drawing out every syllable. You can hear the smile through the phone and it infuriates you. But it also forms a knot in your stomach from excitement. He's got you right where he wants you clearly.

You suddenly hang up on him, barely able to bear the tension forming in you heart and stomach. You sigh and turn your attention back to your very worried coworker. "Um...sorry. I think we should probably get the check don't you think? Its late haha..." you trail off, trying to look less stressed. What was that idiot thinking?? There's no way you were gonna do that in public. You try looking through the window again, trying to spot even a tall silhouette somewhere but nothing...where is he???

You feel cold fingers touch your shoulder, and you whip your head to face Tara. "I'm sorry if I made you upset...or him. Is everything okay with you both?" she asks, her brows furrowed in confusion. Your head spins trying to come up with some explanation for your panic. Is there even a good excuse? No way you could tell her that its some kind of sex game you both indulge in right???

"Umm, look its fine!! Nothing to worry about Tara, I forgive you" you say quickly, gathering your things into your bag. "I have to go though, lets get the check yeah?"

Tara, albeit still puzzled, nods her head in agreement. "Lets meet here again next week! But please, if you ever need to talk to me I'm here okay?" she says softly, before leaning in to give you a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. You both chat for a bit before the waiter comes with the check, bidding each other goodbye once the bill was settled.

You open the door to the restaurant and shiver as the crisp, early winter air envelopes your body. It wasn't nearly this cold earlier and you curse yourself for picking this stupid thin skirt to wear. The sun has long set and its dark. The moon gives the street a nice glow however, which settles your nerves a little.

Your phone rings.

You stop dead in your tracks, debating if you should even pick up. With shaky fingers, you finally answer.

"You know I don’t like being hung up on, where’s your manners hm?" Sylus asks. You glance over your shoulder, half expecting to see his annoying grin, but there's nothing there. You nod absentmindedly and murmur a quick "whatever" as you keep walking. Maybe if you stay quiet, you’ll catch the sound of his footsteps and figure out his location?

"You're close...aren't you Sylus?" you say, trying to sound confident in your question. In all honesty you had no idea.

"Obviously. I can smell that vanilla perfume I love so much. You should wear it more often"

"Its not really that good of a scent, too sweet. I don't like it..." you mutter, voice shaking as you walk. You hear a crunch behind you and you whip your head around. Unfortunately, its just some stray cats scurrying about near some trash cans. You cant tell whether your relieved or more frightened that its not Sylus.

"We both know that's not true. You always wear it on our dates..." he chuckles through the phone, as if it finds it amusing. "Always trying to impress me, how cute”.

Ah, so he did notice. You found it kind of freaky how observant he was sometimes. He probably knew you better than yourself at times. But this confirmed something very important. He was close, close enough to smell you. Did you pass by him by accident and didn't notice? You start walking a bit faster, hoping to catch the last subway home before in leaves the station.

"Zip it" you growl into the phone. You look up ahead, spotting some mirrors being displayed in some glass displays. Ah hah...maybe you'll see glimpses of him if you stop by?

You abruptly stop in front of one of the mirrors, pretending to admire your appearance.

"Do you think I should wear my hair like this more often Sylus?" you ask, narrowing your eyes to look in the reflection. There is someone, but its not Sylus. Just a disheveled looking guy smoking a cigarette.

"Using the reflection are we? What a clever little kitten you are...~"

He hangs up.

You spin around, hoping to catch sight of him. I mean c'mon, he's over 6ft, wide shoulders, and white hair. He should be easy to spot, even in the dark. But again, nothing.

But you know he's still watching you. You can feel it. You begin to hug yourself, partly out of fear but also out of being cold. You needed to hurry if you didn't want to be stuck walking the rest of the way to your apartment.

Part of you didn't want to admit it but this was exciting. You liked Sylus when he was sweet yes...but you liked it more when he was dangerous. You keep up a slightly fast pace, trying to keep your head on a swivel. You battle between feeling scared and confident, your stomach in shambles.

You turn your head as you enter the crowd of people waiting to board the subway. All of them seemingly tired and needing somewhere to be. You swipe your subway pass through the gate lock and it opens.

Your phone rings again, and out of instinct you hang up on him. Then you get an idea. You call back.

The distinct ring tone of Sylus's phone can barely be heard over the noise of people chattering but you hear it!! You strain to hear it but it only rings once before he picks up.

"You always manage to impress me with how clever you are. Too bad it won't save you in the end...will it?" Sylus chuckles.

"Quit talking and stop hiding prick" you spat, looking around.

"Ah ah ah, patience sweetie. Unless you want me to take what's mine in front of all these people?"

You can tell by Sylus's tone that he's losing his resolve. More importantly his patience. No doubt he'd be turning up the intensity of yall's little game very soon. You shiver, imagining you pinned underneath him, whining and mewling from his cock while people pass.

"What's your plan kitten?" he asks, the sounds of brakes and doors opening echoing through the phone. "I know where you live, I know what turns you make, what your street looks like. You know you can't outrun me"

"Ha, well I know that you cant hide forever, Sylus" you say triumphantly. You step onto the subway, trying your hardest to push past people.

That's when you see it. The white hair, the red eyes. Your gazes find each other almost instantly. Despite walking into your trap, Sylus's mouth forms an almost villainous grin and he starts taking strides towards you. The door shuts behind him.

You hang up.

Thankfully, people pile behind you, giving you some cover from him. You turn your head over your shoulder, watching him closely. He's wearing a black turtleneck with a brown winter jacket made somewhat of leather. He's broad, and tall and yet blends in fine with the people around him.

You watch as he scans every face and seat he passes. You attempt to back up but are met with a few disgruntled people telling you to stop pushing. You're trapped. Panicking, you try to think. Maybe you could get off a stop early? No, he'd definitely get to your place before you. You have to get home and lock the doors, maybe barricade if you have to. All you can do is think to press yourself against the glass doors to hopefully be the first one off.

You turn around, and realize he's staring you down intently. Somehow he had made his way right behind you without you noticing. He towers above you, blocking your view of other people.

Shit shit shit.

His expression, once smug, now drops. His eyes glare at you from under his brow. You feel frozen, like a deer in headlights. Like true prey. All you can think to do in the moment is turn back around, avoiding his gaze. Sure, he's got you pinned now. But he won't do anything with all these people around right?

You feel him lean down, breath hot against your ear.

"Did you really think you could escape from me?" he growls, trailing a finger down the curve of your spine. You shiver from his touch, your instincts screaming at you to bolt away from him immediately.

"I do like to play with my prey a little...but you know I always find you" he says, resting a hand on your hip now. Your shaking now, whether from fear or excitement, you don't really know. He's so close you can feel the hardness of his erection against your ass. He's definitely at his limit now.

Not wanting him to think he's won just yet, you remain silent and whip your head away from him. You look at the faces of your fellow passengers but no one seems to notice you. They're all busy engrossed in their phones or conversations.

"No ones going to help you kitten". He mocks. He gets even closer, resting his arm on the wall beside you, angling his body so no one can see you. He takes his free hand and slides it under your shirt, caressing your soft tummy, up to your belly button, eventually settling on the roundness of your breasts.

You desperately try to reach up to remove his hands but of course to no avail, it doesn't work. You feel heat rising to your face...but not only there. An aching, hot feeling in the core of your stomach and between your legs engulfs you.

"Sylus...really? Here?" you ask, voice shaking, trying your best to hold in a whimper. Sylus doesn't answer, only continuing touch your breasts. His thumb and index finger rests on one of your nipples, pinching it slightly. You nearly drop to the ground, pain and pleasure sweeping through your core.

'What's wrong? I can touch you wherever and whenever I please" he says plainly, continuing his assault on your nipple. "You're mine".

As if trying to prove a point, his hands comes off your breast and dips underneath your skirt. He swiftly but roughly begins to press his fingers against your pussy over the fabric of your underwear. You gasp at the suddenness of the assault, your knees threatening to buck underneath you. You grab his wrist in an attempt to stop him but he ignores you.

"I should just take you right here. What do you think sweetie?" he whispers in your ear, clearly enjoying the sight of your distraught face.

As if the universe decided to grant mercy on you, the robotic voice of the intercom suddenly announces the name of your stop.

The doors open. You lose your balance, but quickly recover before you eat gravel. You don't even bother to look behind you, you just start bolting, trying to put as much distance between you and Sylus as you can.

"Aww, kitten where are you going? We're just getting started" Sylus chimes from behind you. No doubt not even bothering to chase after you. You knew he'd catch up in his own ways. Ignoring him, you keep bolting, all that track during high school thankfully being good for something.

You make a sharp turn into an alley, your stamina beginning to falter but you know you cant stop. Your phone rings, and in a burst of anger you answer.

"Quit calling!" your voice a mix of anger, desperation and fear, which gives Sylus a good chuckle once more. He's completely unphased by your little tantrum.

"I must ask, why pick an alley? Are you trying to make this easy for me?" he teases.

You turn your head, almost gasping when you see the familiar silhouette of Sylus.

Then he moves. Long, quick strides and he's already closed the distance between you two. He's whistling a familiar tune, no doubt from one of his many records. You recognize it almost immediately, its one of your favorites. But now rather than soothing, its just rather unnerving.

You snap out of your frozen state and keep bolting, narrowly missing Sylus's attempt to grab your hair.

"My kitten is still fairly quick, I see. Good job sweetie" he praises, his footsteps still not far behind you. You know his words are made mockingly. He could've easily grabbed you with his Evol if he wanted to. He's simply toying with you now. Playing with his food.

You turn sharply out of the alleyway, the sight of the gates to your apartment building in view. Safety. Its so close. A rush of adrenaline courses through your veins. The wind whips past your face as you push your body past its limits. The night is even colder now with the sweat pouring all down your body. Your hair is even sticking to your neck and face now but all you can think about is bolting up the stairs and locking yourself away.

You made it to the base of the stairs, wasting no time to run up the stairs. There it is.

You hear footsteps behind you.

The door. Now. GO. You dash through your doorway, cursing yourself about why the door was even unlocked in the first place. But in this situation? It was a blessing in disguise.

That was the fastest you had ever locked a door in your life. You scanned the room making quick work of pushing the sofa against the door and a few chairs.

You collapse.

Your breathes come in uneven, staccato bursts, sweat having drenched your shirt by now. You rip it off over your head, the clamminess unbearable. Now only in your bra and skirt, you're able to breathe a bit. As you start to collect your thoughts, you freeze.

Wait. The balcony.

Fuck.

You get up quickly, rounding the corner to lock the balcony doors. Thankfully, they're still shut when you reach over to lock it.

Yes!! You won?? Did he give up?

There's nothing but silence and the sound of your ac humming for a few short moments. You start to question if Sylus actually did leave you alone, when your phone suddenly rings. You answer it. confidence ringing in your voice.

"I win Sylus. Thanks for the little game though" you retort, still attempting to catch your breath.

"Are you sure about that?" He asks. His voice is cool and calm. "How sure are you that you got to the balcony before I did?"

"Wha-I would've heard you Sylus..." you say with uncertainty. You weren't sure anymore. You look around. Your apartment isn't the biggest. No way he got in here without you noticing.

"Would you have heard me?"

"Pfft. You don't scare me" you spat, backing away from the balcony doors.

You hear him chuckle. "I guess I almost had you didn't I?". You make your way towards your the middle of your living room.

"Say...what do you think would've happened if I caught you kitten?"

Your thoughts stir in your nearly silent apartment. You aren't sure how to answer him, anxiety knotting in your stomach. You start making your way to your bedroom, with your face towards the balcony, watching it with intensity.

"Surprise...~"

You nearly jump out of your skin, a scream ripping through your throat as large arms wrap around your waist and lift you. Sylus is quick to cover your mouth, dragging your kicking and distraught form towards your bedroom.

He got in before you. Of course he did. He can be lightening fast after all.

You bite his hand, hard. He simply chuckles, causing you to get even more desperate.

"Let me go!" you yell.

"Sure sweetie" he drops you to the ground, giving you a small window of opportunity to run. You try, but he instantly grabs your hair, twisting it into his grip. You yelp, tears forming from the sudden pain. The more you struggle the more it hurts. You desperately try removing his hand but of course he doesn't budge.

He watches you with a pitiful look, rolling his eyes.

"So fucking predictable, as usual"

He starts dragging you across the hard marble floor. Your scalp feels like its on fire, each and every strand being stressed with every pull. He finally reaches your bedroom, wasting no time to bend you over the bed. You push back against him, attempting to kick him. He pulls your head back by your hair. You nearly scream, letting out a sob. Tears stream down your face as you try to look at him, pleading.

"Please, I'm sorry. Please don't" you beg. He simply laughs. You feel his Evol wrapping around you.

"None of those are safe words sweetie"

You choke back on tears. You're practically soaked now. And it wasn't sweat. You feel utterly helpless, trapped underneath him, begging to be freed. He reaches up a hand, undoing the clasps of your bra with one hand. Its falls off your chest effortlessly, leaving you exposed.

"Thanks for making this part easy. Though this skirt is still in the way" he mutters. He pins you to the bed, rolling your skirt up to reveal the skin of your ass.

"Sylus...please" you whimper. Your only answer from him is the sudden sting from a sudden slap to the ass. You yelp in pain, the hot achiness between your legs rising. He rips your underwear in two with swiftness.

"Sylus, please" he mocks, you can hear the grin on his face. 'Telling me you don't want this and yet your dripping all down your leg"

He slides a finger along your cunt, making your legs buck. He rolls a finger around your cunt a few times, earning a symphonies of moans from you. You're already desperate to cum and he's barely done anything to you. Breath ragged, legs shaking, your about to beg him to let you finish when he suddenly pulls away.

???

You're confused until you hear the sound of his belt unbuckle. Is he...going to fuck you already? Not that your disappointed at all. You brace yourself for a sudden intrusion when your met with the sharp sting. You yelp, the surprise of the attack sending shivers down your body. But he doesn't stop, he hits your ass again. And again. Then again. And again.

You feel like your about to pass out. The pain is overwhelming all your senses. But part of you doesn't want him to stop. Your sure you have belt shaped bruises littering your ass by now. The tears have completely clouded your vision. You cant see a thing.

"You're so pretty when you cry sweetie. So pretty~". Sylus reaches a hand up to your faces and wipes some tears away. He leans over, lifting your chin to look up at him.

"Are you doing okay?" his tone is soft, his expression a mix of wonder and worry. You nod enthusiastically, letting him know you're still enjoying this.

"Aw. Lets change that shall we?" he says, his soft expression turning into a smug grin. Your smile drops and your heart starts pound again.

This bastard.

He gives you one last hard whip to the ass before you hear the belt drop to the floor. Then the sound of him unzipping of his pants follows. Your pulse quickens in anticipation. You can't move though, his evol keeping you firmly in place. He puts his hand back in your hair, tugging just enough to remind you of your place beneath him. You feel him align his hips with yours.

"Sylus, I-"

Then he's pushing into you. You're so wet that all it takes is one fluid motion and he's in. Doesn't hurt any less though. You stifle a scream, trying desperately through your tears to beg him to pull out. His pace is deep and slow. It feels almost akin to torture. The head of his cock presses against your g-spot, building a painful high in your abdomen. The hour of teasing and adrenaline rush has you beyond overstimulated, you feel ready to burst at any moment but its not enough stimulation. You stay bordering on the edge of heaven, and yet he doesn't allow you to cross over. It feels like hours as he keeps getting you right to the tip of finishing and then slows down. It hurts so bad, and your crying over and over.

"Sylus...it hurts" you whimper.

"Its supposed to"

"Sylus...please" you beg, your voice shaking from desperation.

"Calm down kitten"

"Sylus-'

"I said calm yourself. Or I'll stop now. Do you want that?"

You whimper in disagreement, face planting into the bed once more. Sylus lifts your head by the chin, leaning down to give you a small kiss on the cheek. You look so beautiful right now, the puffiness and red of your eyes turning him on even more. He speaks, his voice hard and cold.

"Always so greedy. Spoiled brat."

With little to no warning, he slams his cock into your aching cunt. You gasp in shock, but have no time to process anything as he fucks you faster and harder with each thrust. Your so overstimulated that it only takes a few thrusts to make you cum. Your body tenses and shakes as you come undone on his cock. Your moaning while gasping for air, feeling the best you've ever felt and yet on the verge of passing out.

Sylus feels your cunt tighten so hard around him that he can't help but also come undone himself. You hear a small and faint "Fuck..." but your head is spinning too much to hear much else. You're in a trance practically.

You feel the stickiness of his cum dripping down your thigh and then your out like a light. Adrenaline and overstimulation had gotten the best of you. Sylus chuckles and gently lifts you onto your bed, pulling the sheets over your worn out body.

When you wake up, your eyes and head hurt so so bad. Your vision is blurry too. You attempt too blink the blurriness away.

Sylus.

You sit up, looking for him. Did he leave already? You look at the clock, the red hue of the lights read that its three in the morning.

"S-sylus?" you whimper, feeling slightly abandoned.

"Calm down sweetie, I'm here. Its cute watching you search for me though" he says, his figure appearing in the doorway. He's holding a water bottle and a wet rag. He sits next to you, and starts gently wiping the dried tears from your face. You look down, your thighs still a sticky mess of cum, sweat and desperation from earlier. Sylus smiles a bit, laughing under his breath.

"I figured I could run you a shower when you woke up" he says, stretching out his hand for you. "Although the plumbing here is...less than adequate I guess I could join you".

You roll your eyes, laughing at his dumb remark before taking his hand in yours. You cant help but crack a smile.

"Yeah, lets go"

[devondespresso]

every now and then one just gets completely enamoured with karen pov prologue chapter and convinces themselves they can totally post it before the whole fic is done

[d-z20]

Neighbourly Care (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You come home from college for the weekend but your parents forgot and you are locked out of the house. Luckily your neighbour finds you and they let you stay at theirs

-OR-

You think the neighbours are MILFs and the evening is filled with flirting and then you get to be fucked by each of them and then by both of them.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, top Agatha, top Rio, small mention of Mommy kink, strap-on use, oral, there might be more idk it's very horny

Words: 4.6k of pure horniness

A/N: I think I blacked out while writing this, its so horny. It's inspired by this request and hasn't even been proofread yet so enjoy the horny mess of it

Tagging @aceday because I said I would

AO3 | Part 2 | Master List

The rain falls in relentless sheets, soaking through your jacket, and the rest of your clothes, for that matter. Each step squelches as you trudge the familiar path from the train station to your parents’ house. By the time you reach the front door, your teeth are chattering, and your clothes cling damply to your skin. A sigh escapes your lips as you grasp the handle and pull—only to find it locked. Your heart sinks.

The memory hits you like a slap: the locks were changed after they had a break-in a few months ago. Of course, you’ve forgotten to get a new key. Fumbling through your bag, you pray for some miracle, some overlooked backdoor key, but your search turns up nothing except your phone. A quick glance at the screen confirms no messages from your parents and no backup plan. Frustration mingles with despair as you stand shivering, wondering what to do next.

Footsteps break through the downpour, and you turn to see Agatha, your parents’ neighbour, crossing her lawn towards you. You’ve exchanged pleasantries with her and her wife, Rio, a few times during your trips home from college. They’re always friendly, but you’ve never spoken beyond casual greetings. That hasn’t stopped you from admiring them, though—two stunning women, each with their own magnetic charm. And yes, you’ve labelled them MILFs in your mind more than once. Their son, Nicholas, is long gone from the nest, leaving the two women to embody a kind of confident, enviable domesticity.

Agatha snaps you out of your spiralling thoughts with a two short words. “Locked out?” Her voice is smooth, with a hint of amusement as she tilts her head and surveys you.

You open your mouth to respond, but your gaze catches on her appearance. She’s wearing tight black leggings that cling to her toned legs and a cropped gym shirt that reveals her navel, where a bead of rainwater trails tantalisingly down her skin. Her wavy brown hair is piled into a loose bun, though a few strands cling to her flushed neck. A sheen of sweat glistens on her skin—evidence of a workout she must have just finished. Your thoughts betray you as your eyes linger on the curve of her waist, imagining what it might feel like to touch her. A sudden heat rising to your cheeks.

Her blue eyes lock onto yours, a curious smile curving her lips. “Hey, you alright?” she asks, a teasing lilt in her tone.

You stammer an explanation about the locked door, your forgotten key, and your parents’ apparent absence. Agatha’s expression softens, and she motions towards her house with a nod. “Come on, you’re soaked to the bone. You’ll catch your death standing out here.”

For a moment, you hesitate. Accepting her offer feels… intimate somehow. But the alternative is staying in the cold rain, and the way her gaze lingers on you makes warmth crawl up your spine. You nod and follow her.

Agatha’s house is welcoming, with a faint scent of flowers mingling with something earthy and grounding. She grabs a towel from a nearby linen closet and tosses it to you with a playful grin. “Guest bathroom’s down here,” she says. “You’ve got two options: strip down and warm up, or stay wet and risk getting sick.”

Your eyes widen, startled by her bluntness. Agatha leans casually against the doorframe, smirking at your reaction. “Relax,” she teases. “I’ll get you something dry to wear.” And with that, she saunters away, not bothering to close the door fully behind her. Her confidence leaves you both flustered and intrigued.

Inside the bathroom, you peel off your soaked clothes, debating how much to remove. In the end, you leave your underwear on, wrapping yourself tightly in the towel. When Agatha returns, she hands you a pair of shorts and a blue plaid shirt. Her sharp eyes sweep over you, noting your wet underclothes with a tut. “All of it,” she says pointedly. “You’re dripping everywhere.” Before you can respond, she adds, “I’m off to shower. Rio should be back soon.” She turns and leaves, her movements fluid and deliberate, leaving the door ajar once more.

Feeling the weight of her words and gaze, you strip completely, your damp underwear joining the rest of your clothes in a soggy pile. You’re still mulling over what to do with them when the door opens suddenly. Rio steps in, her dark eyes widening as they land on you.

“Oh—sorry,” she says, though her gaze lingers a beat too long before she averts her eyes. “Didn’t know we had company. Agatha didn’t mention it.” Her tone is low and smooth, carrying a quiet amusement that makes your skin prickle.

You stammer an apology, clutching the towel back around you. Rio’s lips quirk upward in a faint smirk as she backs out of the bathroom, but not before you catch the way her gaze sweeps over you. Your heart pounds in your chest long after the door closes.

You quickly shower to warm up, but there’s no cleaning the thoughts inside your head. Memories of Rio’s lingering gaze replay in your mind, but they’re quickly overtaken by images of Agatha. You can’t help imagining what she looks like under the water, her skin glistening with steam, her hair sticking to her neck. The thought is startling, and you shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the fantasy.

After calming your racing mind, you dress in the clothes Agatha left and leave the guest bathroom to find the two women.

You find them both in the kitchen; the warmth a welcome contrast to the chill that had soaked through your bones earlier. Agatha moves fluidly between the stove and counter, stirring something fragrant in a pot that smells like tomatoes, garlic, and fresh herbs. Rio, meanwhile, arranges a bouquet of vibrant flowers in a vase with meticulous care, her strong hands working delicately to adjust the stems.

It’s domestic, serene even, but there’s an undeniable electricity in the air—one you can’t ignore under the weight of their lingering glances.

Agatha’s grin spreads when she notices you lingering awkwardly near the door. “Looking good,” she says, her eyes flickering over the borrowed clothes. The oversized plaid shirt hangs slightly off your shoulder, and her gaze lingers on the exposed line of your clavicle.

You fidget, tugging the fabric up, but Agatha only smirks, stirring the pot with a deliberate slowness.

Rio rolls her eyes, though there’s a faint curve to her lips. “Ignore her,” she says, her voice laced with playful exasperation. “She loves making people squirm.”

You manage a sheepish laugh, but it does little to quell the heat climbing up your neck. Agatha recounts your lockout predicament to Rio with the same teasing edge, her tone carrying just enough detail to make your situation sound both pitiful and amusing.

Rio hums in understanding, sliding the last flower into place and stepping back to admire her work. “Stay for dinner,” she offers, her dark eyes soft with genuine warmth. “It’s the least we can do.”

Agatha winks at you over her shoulder. “Yeah, we can’t have you heading back out into the rain getting all wet again—the downpour outside hasn’t let up.”

You nod, accepting their offer, though the way they exchange glances—subtle but charged—makes your stomach twist with something you can’t quite name.

As you sit at the dining table, Rio who is opposite you, starts pouring red wine into three glasses; her movements fluid and confident. Agatha joins you a moment later, setting down plates of steaming pasta and sitting next to her wife. “Hope you like red,” she says, her teasing smile returning.

The conversation flows easily over dinner; their attention split between each other and you. They ask about college life, your plans for the future, and your family; their questions laced with genuine interest and just enough flirtation to keep you on edge

When you have all finished, Rio stands to clear the plates, leaning close as she reaches for yours. The proximity is dizzying, her chest brushing your shoulder, and you catch a faint, earthy scent clinging to her skin.

Agatha doesn’t miss a beat, her eyes flickering between you and Rio, her expression smouldering. She doesn’t say a word, but the intensity in her gaze speaks volumes.

When you offer to help with the dishes, they wave you off with a chorus of “nonsense.” Agatha’s smile turns wicked. “Besides, we were supposed to have a movie date night tonight. You should join us—it’d be a shame to let all this wine go to waste.”

The phrasing makes you pause, but before you can think too much about it, Agatha ushers you into the living room. 

The room is cozy, bathed in the soft glow of lamps. Rio claims the armchair with an almost feline grace, crossing her legs and leaning back with a glass of wine in hand. Agatha sprawls on the couch, her posture open and inviting. She pats the seat beside her with an easy smile.

You hesitate for half a second before sitting on the far end of the couch, hyper-aware of the space—or lack thereof—between you.

The movie starts, but it’s impossible to focus. Agatha stretches her arm along the back of the couch, her fingers brushing your shoulder lightly. The touch is casual, almost innocent, but it sends your pulse racing.

She leans over at one point to refill your glass, her chest grazing your arm. The heat of her proximity is overwhelming, and you’re sure Rio notices the way you stiffen. There’s a flicker of amusement in her dark eyes as she takes a sip from her own glass, her lips quirking into a faint smirk.

As the movie progresses, the conversation becomes more pointed. They ask if you’re seeing anyone, and when you choke on your wine at the question, Agatha laughs—a low, throaty sound that makes your stomach flutter.

“No,” you mumble, setting your glass down a little too quickly.

“Well, that’s a shame,” she says, her hand brushing your knee lightly. The weight of her touch lingers, even as she pulls away. “I was sure a pretty little thing like you would get snapped up in a heartbeat.”

Rio arches a brow at her wife. “Don’t scare them off, Aggie.”

“What? I’m just being friendly,” Agatha replies, her tone innocent but her smirk anything but.

The conversation continues, peppered with light touches and teasing remarks that leave your heart racing.

By the time the credits roll, the tension in the room is palpable. Rio sets her glass down and stretches, her movements deliberate as she rises from the chair. “What do you think of married life, Aggie?” she asks, her voice light but carrying an edge. “Think we make a good team?”

Agatha’s gaze flicks to you, her lips curving into a smirk. “The best. But sometimes, it’s nice to mix things up.”

The comment hangs in the air, heavy with implication. Your heart pounds as you glance between them, unsure if you’re imagining the tension or if they’re deliberately baiting you—and each other.

You nervously check your phone, hoping for a message from your parents saying they’re home and wondering where you are. Instead, you find a single text: “Out of town for the weekend, hope you’re doing okay!”

You stare at the screen in disbelief, your stomach sinking.

“Everything alright?” Rio asks, noticing your expression.

"They… forgot I was coming,” you admit, feeling foolish. “They’re away for the weekend.”

Agatha clicks her tongue, feigning shock. “Terrible parenting, really. Lucky for you, we’re not going anywhere.”

Rio nods, her tone reassuring. “You can stay here. We’ll take good care of you.”

There’s something about the way she says it—gentle but with a sharp edge—that makes your breath hitch. You thank them profusely, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks as they show you to the guest room.

They leave you alone for a bit, both going to change. You sit on the bed, your thoughts racing. Their lingering glances replay in your mind, stirring something restless and uncertain. Without thinking, you pick up your phone and start searching their names on social media. Your heart beats faster as you hope for a bikini picture or something—anything—that might help you satisfy the growing ache of desire.

A knock at the door startles you, and you quickly set the phone aside. Rio steps in, holding a phone charger. “Thought you might need this,” she says, her voice soft and her gaze steady.

“Thanks,” you manage, taking it from her. Her fingers brush yours for a fleeting moment, and she lingers by the door before slipping away.

Did she know what you were about to do?

A short while later, there’s another knock. This time, it’s Agatha, holding a glass of water. “Thought you might be thirsty,” she says, her tone lighter, almost teasing.

Surely she hears how that sounds, right?

Her fingers graze yours as she hands it to you, and the warmth of her touch lingers long after she leaves. You sit on the edge of the bed, clutching the glass, your mind spinning with questions you can’t answer.

"Okay, it’s totally normal to be offered a glass of water before bed, and it does not mean they can read your mind,” you whisper to yourself, trying to curb your horniness.

—

Later that night, as you lie in bed, unable to sleep, the events of the evening are still playing over in your mind, especially the lingering touches and smirks. Suddenly, you remember the spare key your parents used to keep hidden under the plant pot by the front door. Without even thinking about how weird it was to up and leave in the middle of the night, you hop out of bed and tiptoe down the hallway, careful not to make a sound. But just as you reach the stairs, a voice stops you cold.

“Exactly where do you think you’re sneaking off to?”

Turning slowly, you see Agatha leaning against a doorway, her silhouette illuminated by the faint light from her bedroom. She is wearing a floral robe, and her hair is slightly mussed; her expression is both amused and predatory.

“I—I wasn’t sneaking,” you stammer, holding up your hands defensively. “I just remembered my parents used to keep a spare key under the plant pot. I thought I’d grab it and let myself in—”

“Without saying goodbye?” she interrupts, stepping closer. Her tone is teasing, but there’s a sharpness to her gaze that makes your pulse quicken.

Before you can respond, another figure appears behind her. It’s Rio, wearing nothing but her underwear and a top that reads: BOHNER FAMILY REUNION. PITCH A TENT. Her dark hair is messy, and you notice a small, mouth-shaped bruise blooming on her neck that definitely wasn’t there earlier.

“You were being so good for us before now,” Rio says softly, her voice carrying an edge that makes your knees weak. “We said we’d take care of you, didn’t we?”

The heat in your cheeks is unbearable now, and there is a familiar wetness pooling between your thighs. You stammer out an apology, but their combined presence is overwhelming.

“Relax,” Agatha purrs, her fingers grazing your arm. “We’re not upset, just disappointed you wouldn’t come see us before saying goodbye.”

Before you can process her words, Rio steps forward, her hand gently tilting your chin up to meet her gaze. “Where were you going to sleep after grabbing that key, hmm? Your parents’ dark, empty house? Sounds pretty lonely to me,” she murmurs, her lips curving into a faint smirk as Agatha’s hands slide around your waist.

Rio’s touch is featherlight yet commanding, her fingers tilting your chin just enough to keep your wide-eyed gaze locked with hers. Her dark eyes glimmer with something unreadable—intensity, curiosity, desire, maybe all three. 

You’re painfully aware of Agatha’s hands on your waist, her touch firm but teasing, fingers curling just slightly as if testing your reaction. “And what would you do when you found out that they no longer keep one there? They stopped doing it since the break-in, don’t you know? Would you come back over here and beg for us to take you back in and keep you warm?” Agatha says softly, her breath brushing against the back of your neck. 

You try to answer, but your words stick in your throat as Rio steps closer, her thumb brushing along your jawline.

“She’s right,” Rio adds softly, her voice low and velvety. “Why sneak off when you’re already here?”

Your heart is racing, your pulse pounding in your ears as you look between them. You want to say something—anything—but the weight of their combined attention renders you speechless.

Agatha chuckles, the sound rich and almost predatory. “Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” She presses closer, her front brushing against your back now, her lips grazing the shell of your ear.

Before you fully realise what’s happening, Agatha and Rio are guiding you away from the stairs. You’re caught between them, their touches subtle yet deliberate. They lead you down the hall, past the guest room, and into the master bedroom.

The room is large but intimate, the air carrying the faint scent of cedarwood. A soft glow from a bedside lamp casts warm shadows across the space. Agatha releases your waist to close the door behind you; the click of the lock is startlingly loud in the quiet.

Rio takes the lead now, her hands resting lightly on your arms as she guides you towards the bed. Her touch is warm and grounding, yet there’s a deliberate slowness to her movements, like she’s savouring the moment.

“You’ve had a long day,” she says, her voice soothing but laced with something deeper. “Let us take care of you.”

Agatha steps into view, her smirk as confident as ever. “Or, we can stop. If that’s what you want?” She asks, tilting her head as she studies you.

Your heart pounds as you shake your head, unable to trust your voice. 

Agatha’s smile widens, satisfaction gleaming in her bright blue eyes. “Be good and use your words for us, hun.”

“Please don’t stop,” you whimper.

At that, Agatha moves swiftly to your other side, her presence as bold as ever. Her fingers brush against your jaw, turning your head slightly so you’re looking directly at her. “You’re so tense,” she murmurs, her thumb grazing your cheek in a gesture that feels both comforting and intimate. “We’ll fix that.”

You barely have time to process her words before Rio steps closer, her body heat radiating against yours. Her hand trails down your arm, her touch featherlight but deliberate, as if she’s memorising every inch of you.

The room seems to shrink as the weight of their attention consumes you. 

Agatha’s thumb brushes against your bottom lip, and you feel a thrill shoot through you as her lips quirk into that teasing, predatory smile.

“See something you like?” she murmurs, her voice a low purr. “You weren’t careful enough not to like some of our pictures online, darling.”

Shit. So their coming into your room was not a coincidence.

Before you can stammer out an excuse, her lips capture yours—soft but demanding, her confidence evident in the way she takes control. Her hands slide up to cradle your face, her touch firm yet tender, while the kiss is a paradox of teasing and intensity.

Rio’s hands suddenly slide to your hips, pulling your attention. Agatha leans back just slightly, her breath fanning your face as her lips curve into a smirk.

“Your turn, my love,” she says, glancing at Rio with a playful challenge in her eyes.

Rio doesn’t hesitate. Her movements are firm as she tilts your chin towards her, her lips finding yours in a kiss that’s slower, softer, but no less consuming. Where Agatha is fire and fervour, Rio is water, her touch calm yet undeniably intoxicating. Her hand presses gently against the small of your back, holding you steady as she deepens the kiss.

When she finally pulls away, her lips linger close to yours, her breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the room. “You taste as good as I thought you would,” she murmurs, her voice low and laced with something that makes your knees weak.

Agatha laughs softly, stepping even closer so that you’re cocooned between them. Her fingers trail down your arm, igniting sparks along your skin. “I think they’re enjoying this, don’t you darling?” she teases, her gaze flicking between you and Rio.

Rio smirks, her eyes glinting in the dim light. “I’d say so.”

They exchange a knowing glance before Agatha’s hands firmly grip your shoulders, and with a playful yet commanding push, they guide you onto the bed, the softness of the sheets contrasting with the harsh intensity of their movements.

Agatha walks into what you presume is her closet, but you don’t think on it for long as Rio is straddling you in a matter of moments. She is kissing you with a deep need; meanwhile, her hand makes its way under the waistband of your shorts; she swipes two of her fingers through your folds, gathering your wetness, letting out a groan of pleasure at the feel of it and brings her fingers to your lips.

Just as you’re about to take her digits in your mouth, you hear Agatha’s voice full of desire call, "Off."

But Rio doesn’t move; instead, she pushes her fingers into your mouth, groaning at the feeling.

Agatha grabs the woman by the scruff of the neck and yanks her off of you.

“But Aggie, they’re so wet already,” Rio whines.

If your lips weren’t already parted from having sucked on Rio’s fingers, your mouth would have dropped open at the sight of Agatha; she had removed her robe, revealing the purple lace lingerie underneath.

She places something you can’t see at the foot of the bed and comes to stand next to you. “It seems like everything you wear ends up soaked,” she says, mock concern coating every word. 

Rio looks longingly at Agatha, a silent request on her face. With a single nod from Agatha, Rio starts undressing you hungrily. And as soon as you're bare, her mouth is on you again, exploring every inch of newly exposed skin.

“You know,” Agatha drawls, “Before your little stunt back there, my wife and I were finishing off our date with a wonderful night in bed.” She continued. “Both of us talked—or rather tried to talk between our moans—about how we’d get you to join us.” You feel Rio smirk against your skin at this last sentence.

You shudder under Rio’s relentless kisses and Agatha’s firm gaze. Your legs are forced apart with strong hands, and you feel the cool air hit your heat.

“You’re dripping everywhere,” Agatha states for the second time that evening. “Now let us take care of you.” Her voice is sure, leaving no room for arguments.

Rio’s makes her way down your body, nipping and sucking at your skin. When she reaches your thighs, her touch becomes lighter, stopping short of where you want her mouth most.

“Please.” You beg, back arching up into her.

The feeling of her lips on your clit is pure ecstasy. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation of Rio starting to suck lightly. Moaning, you grab a fistful of her hair and grind up into her face, seeking more. 

She hums in satisfaction, happy to fulfil your request. She nips gently and begins to tease your entrance with her tongue, dipping it in ever so slightly. It doesn’t take long before you’re cumming all over her face, her name falling repeatedly from your lips. It’s only when you start to come back down that you remember Agatha is still in the room. She is looking at you with sheer lust, clearly struggling to keep herself from interrupting Rio’s fun. 

As if they could read each other’s minds, Rio withdraws from between your legs and comes to sit behind you, pulling you up so your back is against her chest. She pinches one of your nipples, causing your head to drop back on to her shoulder. A firm hand grips your chin, forcing it back up, and you open your eyes to see Agatha kneeling between your legs, her hands rubbing up and down your thighs.

“You need to look at Mommy when she fucks you,” Rio whispers in your ear before playfully nibbling your earlobe.

Agatha’s arms snake under your legs, pulling your hips up and into her. It’s then that you feel something hard poke you, making your eyes go wide. At some point when Rio was fucking you, Agatha had slipped into a harness, a purple dildo secured firmly in the centre.

“Are you sure you want this?” She asks, bringing the tip to your entrance. “I’ll only continue with your enthusiastic consent.”

The fact that she cares enough to make sure you were definitely okay with this, only turns you on more. “Yes. Please, Agatha—" Rio's grip on your jaw tightens. “Mommy,” you correct yourself. “Please fuck me, Mommy.”

And with that, she slides into you, facing very little resistance with how wet you are. As she bottoms out, her hips pressing into yours, you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips.

“Kiss me,” you demand.

You hear Agatha chuckle when she leans into you, capturing your lips in a searing kiss while still continuing her thrusts. 

The sex is messy and loud, and you cum at least two more times before the couple shows any kind of stopping. You are left gasping, your body shaking; Rio’s firm hold on you is the only thing keeping you upright.

“Think you can go for one more round, sweetheart?” Agatha teases as Rio climbs out from behind you.

With the strap still inside you, Agatha rolls you over so she is lying on the bed and you are straddling her hips. The other woman settles her thighs on either side of Agatha’s head, facing you.

“Honey, you really have enjoyed having our guest round, haven’t you?”

Rio doesn’t reply, only winking at you before lowering herself onto Agatha’s face.

You start to grind your hips at the sight, the strap hitting the perfect spot inside you, Agatha begins to flick her tongue over Rio’s clit, and Rio pulls your face in to start making out with you. This change in position has the harness rubbing against Agatha’s clit, pulling the most gorgeous moans from her. All of you are lost in waves of pleasure; the sounds of grunting, moaning, and whining filling the room. 

You all cum at different times, but it doesn’t matter because nobody stops until the last of you is coaxed through the final aftershocks of your orgasms.

Untangling yourself from one another, you and Rio flop down beside Agatha, dumb smiles plastered across all of your faces. It’s a few minutes before they get up, but Agatha takes off the harness, giving it to her wife before coming back and drawing you into her arms. Rio wanders off to their bathroom to clean it off and returns with a wet cloth to clean you up as well.

She rejoins you after she's done and presses a soft kiss to your head, coming to lay down behind you, draping her arm across your body. With the three of you like that, it is not long before you fall into a deep sleep, a small smile still visible on your lips. 

You were going to ache in the morning, but right this second you couldn’t find a single fuck to give.

——

Please like&reblog if you enjoyed, I thrive off external validation and it motivates me to write more stuff like this 👀

read part 2 here :)