#like just because its sounds happy doesn't mean it IS

[nerdinabook]

Okay I have a thought....

Marauders and their fav Christmas songs...

Remus: Santa, Can't You Hear Me by Kelly Clarkson and Ariana Grande (Remus would also love Christmas Shoes but can't listen to it without thinking of his mom and crying so he only listens to it once a year)

Sirius: Holidays by Conan Gray (duh it's Conan of course Sirius is gonna eat it up)

James: When Christmas Comes to Town from the Polar Express (you can't tell me he doesn't cry listening to this)

Peter: Wrap me up by Jimmy Fallon and Meghan Trainor (Peter would end up forcing everyone to duet with him at some point through the season)

Lily: Where Are You Christmas from The Grinch (mainly I think her vocals would sound so good at this)

Marlene: Buy me Presents by Sabrina Carpenter (the sass!)

Dorcas: Santa Tell Me by Ariana Grande (the year before she and Marlene got together she would listen to this and think about her the year after when they were together she would sing a slowed down version to her)

Mary: Christmas Tree Farm by Taylor Swift (all the girls would love it but Mary was the one busting it out the most)

Regulus: Merry Christmas, please don't call by the Bleachers (uurggg this song is just so Regulus coded!!!)

Evan: You're a mean one Mr Grinch (people think it's because he is trying to say he is like the Grinch and is mean but he can't not listen to it and think of the happy times in his childhood with Pandora)

Barty: Carol of the Bells (its giving prestige its giving hauntingly beautiful)

Pandora: You're a mean one Mr Grinch (people think it's because she is kinda quirky and so of course hut really the same reason as Evan)

Tbh I'm still learning about Evan and Bartys characters so forgive me if you think differently.

[seitmai]

You don’t know fully why playing in the rain was the best thing, but it was almost magical. Maybe it was just your best friend being with you. Maybe it was because the noise of the life of the rich stopped for a few minutes, and the water washed away all your etiquette. A time where the two of you could just be kids.

This just sounds so beautiful 🥰

“No,” you sigh. You love Carter. There are some adjustments that you’ll have to continue to get used to. Things have moved rapidly since the engagement. And he still hadn’t met the most important person in your life. The second most important — that just didn’t seem right. But Carter should be the first, right?

I would say yes, so questioning this is saying a lot 🫣

“You’re just leaving when we should be planning our wedding,” he looks down at your hand, twisting around the too big ring he placed on your finger. What was your sister thinking? Or did he ask? Too bad he didn’t ask Ransom what would be the perfect ring.

Ransom pulls out the invite. His eyes move over the pristine and gaudy paper before he lets it fall back to the table. Looking into the distance with even more confusion than ever. “She’d never agree to get married at the Liberty,” Linda shrugs as she walks to the other end of the table. “She was going to get married under our tree.” “Ahh, you see the problem with that statement?” Ransom’s face turns up in disgust as he shakes his head. “‘Our tree’ and she’s marrying another man?”

Linda is telling Ransom the facts that he needed to hear

Did he know that you didn’t like the city? That you’d prefer to wear Ransom’s sweaters than fancy dresses? Did he know how many children you wanted to have? And how they would have unique names that he helped pick out? Did he know that you haven’t been the same since your mother passed? Did he know that you hate people, and use him as a shield against that? That you’re painfully shy, and get so exhausted after being around a crowd, and dance helped you? Did Carter even know that you hated your birthstone, so claimed smokey quartz as yours because of its protective qualities?

🥺🥺🥺

Ransom nods his head, still looking at you, and Linda already sees the too far gone look. “Here,” she pulls out a bag from the pharmacist, and lays it on his dresser. “Be careful. And I’m not condoning this, I just need you to be smart with this one.” “Nothing happened,” he’s barely audible. He wished his mother would just leave so he could soak you up. You were exhausted. “And I wasn’t born yesterday. That’s a Plan B pill. She needs to take it today. Gerald would not be happy with his baby girl winding up pregnant before she went to NYU. He wants to see her dance just like her mom,” Ransom rolls his eyes. Whispering for her to go. “I mean it, son.”

Haha I love Linda 😅

Nothing else matters in this world but the way Ransom is railing into you. The way he grunts with every thrust. The girls he’s probably fucked didn’t matter because there’s no way he fucks them the way he does you. There’s no way that he stares at their cunt like it could solve the world’s problems. And there’s no way that he feels about them the way he feels about you.

I'm sure he doesn't 🤭😮‍💨

“Watching myself leak out of someone for the first time. And yeah, that thing I did last night is cleaning you up. Never settle for a man that doesn’t want to give you the best aftercare, and cuddle afterwards,” oh. So he was still in the mindset of this was just practice amongst friends. You can be, too. He was right after all, a messy breakup wasn’t worth losing a friendship.

Damn that hurt

When The Rain Gathers..., Part 1

Summary: You thought that things with Ransom were simple. They were supposed to be. So why when you announce your marriage to Carter Baizen, and the now fast approaching wedding did things get so complicated? It was supposed to be you and Ransom versus the world. And now everyone wants to split the two of you apart. Ransom is your best friend, the man that had all your firsts. And even if people, and Carter are trying to pull you apart, you're not ready to say goodbye to the best thing in your life...

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader, Carter Baizen X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, mentions of loss of innocence, teasing, slight possessiveness, pining, creampie, Plan B, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.6K

Series Masterlist

You take in a full, deep inhale. Sensing and smelling the impending rain with a smile on your face. Ignoring the packed boxes behind you because your family home has always been the best place. Your bedroom and all the secret ways to get out of this castle that led you straight next door. You bite on your lip, trying to hide the grin that spreads on your face as you see his little boy bedroom. Memories flooding into your mind of the most amazing childhood with him.

You can see two kids, hand in hand, running away from these houses, and further into a fairytale world. A world where everything was so much simpler. A world of running to the highest hill in the area with the biggest and best climbing tree, and waiting. Watching as the sky got a bit darker. Time stops until that moment of the first drop of rain, and you and Ransom would chase each other. Dance. Sing at the top of your lungs. The rain creating an invisibility cloak around you.

You don’t know fully why playing in the rain was the best thing, but it was almost magical. Maybe it was just your best friend being with you. Maybe it was because the noise of the life of the rich stopped for a few minutes, and the water washed away all your etiquette. A time where the two of you could just be kids.

If the rain went on too long, the two of you would mosey on up to Harlan’s house. If the rain wasn’t long enough, you’d climb that giant oak tree, and sit and talk about the future. Your feet dangling off that perfect branch, while you held each other’s hands and talked about what you wanted in life.

“Sweetheart,” this is not where you saw yourself. His hands slide from your back all the way around your middle, connecting at the hands before he pulls you into his front. Carter rests his chin on your head as he looks at the distant house, and right into Ransom’s old bedroom. His parents have long since left that house. Now it was your parents’ turn, and everything feels like it’s changing.

“Are you about to finish here?” Conveniently Carter had a business call that stole his time away from going through your childhood memories or even plan your wedding. You aren’t sure if you were hearing things, but it sounded as if he scoffed at the many photos of you and Ransom in here before he hugged you.

“Yeah, and you’re about ready to fly out of town?”

“That would be part of the job,” he spins you around to look at him. His steel blue eyes raking over your face. “Are you angry?”

“No,” you sigh. You love Carter. There are some adjustments that you’ll have to continue to get used to. Things have moved rapidly since the engagement. And he still hadn’t met the most important person in your life. The second most important — that just didn’t seem right. But Carter should be the first, right?

“You’re just leaving when we should be planning our wedding,” he looks down at your hand, twisting around the too big ring he placed on your finger. What was your sister thinking? Or did he ask? Too bad he didn’t ask Ransom what would be the perfect ring. Ransom knew in detail, because he had the gall to ask during your first year in college, and you divulged everything that you wanted.

“You won’t get to be there for flowers, cake, and you won’t get to see the location site,” Carter releases an annoyed huff of air. “You’ve never even seen Harlan’s estate.”

“Why would we get married there?” This is one thing that annoyed you. He never understood the importance of Harlan’s property. “Under a tree that my fiancé dangled her little legs on, sitting next to a man that is in love with you.”

“No, he’s not. Ransom is my best friend,” Carter rolls his eyes, but maintains his smile. “He is,” you laugh because this conversation kept happening, and he had never met Ransom. He didn’t know the dynamic between the two of you. “It’s been a dream of mine to get married there.”

“We’ll talk about it some other time. I’m not heading to the airport with this as our last conversation,” if Carter said no, it wouldn’t matter anyways. He and his family would get what they wanted with the wedding, but at least you were getting him as a husband. But time is running out to find a location elsewhere.

“Then could you at least just think about it and consider it? Please? Pretty pretty please?” Carter chuckles, pulling you closer to him to give you a chaste kiss. “At least look at it?”

“Yes, I’ll consider it. You can show me in a FaceTime call, but I still deep down don’t think it’s our best option. I want everyone to feel comfortable, and I don’t think my family would feel that there. So can you respect that?” You smile, wiggling around, and nodding your head. Yes, you can respect that, as long as he will look at it, and give it a chance. A FaceTime won’t do the property justice. Harlan’s estate meant and still means so much to you. It’s the thing that never changes.

“Okay, tell me you love me,” his voice hits that beautiful tone that makes you want to jump into his arms.

“I love you, and do we have time…”

“No, we don’t. I wish. I could use the feeling of you on me before I traveled to work. Love you, and I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, okay?” He walks backwards, his hand starting to slide out of your own, and you nod. A couple of weeks wouldn’t be so bad. And then a week. And then a marriage. That was the bad part. No, the scary part. No…intimidating part.

You still didn’t understand why he and his mother felt the need to rush this marriage. What could possibly be done in that little amount of time? You guessed with enough money, anything is possible.

Linda walks by her son at the table, stalling while she stares at him. Looking at nothing with his chin resting on his hands is all he ever does now. She walks back towards a table, and grabs up a beautifully intricate invitation and drops it on the table in front of her son. “Is this what’s bothering you?”

“What is this?” He looks at her confused. Flipping over the envelope he sees a broken wax seal with a giant B on it. “Mother?”

“I’m a bit confused on why you wouldn’t know. Open it.”

Ransom pulls out the invite. His eyes move over the pristine and gaudy paper before he lets it fall back to the table. Looking into the distance with even more confusion than ever. “She’d never agree to get married at the Liberty,” Linda shrugs as she walks to the other end of the table. “She was going to get married under our tree.”

“Ahh, you see the problem with that statement?” Ransom’s face turns up in disgust as he shakes his head. “‘Our tree’ and she’s marrying another man?”

“I figured she would always marry another man,” Linda rolls her eyes as she cuts her steak. “What?”

“Because you didn’t admit your true feelings to her.”

“She has never felt anything romantic towards me,” Ransom bitterly rolls his eyes as he stuffs a bite of food into his mouth.

“Who was her first kiss?” Ransom rolls his eyes again, taking a long drink of his beer. “Her first sexual encounter? Did you forget telling me the next evening that she begged you to have sex with her because she didn’t want to go to university as a virgin?”

“I — it wasn’t like that.”

“Okay,” Linda finishes, taking a bite of her food, but Ransom still stews. “You didn’t get an invitation?” He shakes his head no. His eyes glaring at the stupid piece of paper. It was too pure and white. It wasn’t you at all. Your sister, maybe, but not you. “You can be my plus one then. Also, she invited me to go shopping with her for the dress. Since her mother passed, she wants someone that knows her. She said she was calling you.”

“I just found out that she was engaged, and she mentioned going dress shopping, but…this date, it’s too soon. What the fuck is going on?” Linda clears her throat. “Don’t act like you don’t use profanity.”

“I am trying to do better. At least at the dinner table. And the Baizens don’t like long engagements,” Ransom groans. The Baizens. “Yeah, she’ll be moving to New York. She’ll look beautiful on his arm,” but will he play in the rain with you? Will he know that Ransom explored your virginal folds and you told him what you liked when it came to oral sex? Does Carter Francis Baizen III know that you liked your clit to be nipped?

Did he know that you didn’t like the city? That you’d prefer to wear Ransom’s sweaters than fancy dresses? Did he know how many children you wanted to have? And how they would have unique names that he helped pick out? Did he know that you haven’t been the same since your mother passed? Did he know that you hate people, and use him as a shield against that? That you’re painfully shy, and get so exhausted after being around a crowd, and dance helped you? Did Carter even know that you hated your birthstone, so claimed smokey quartz as yours because of its protective qualities?

He doubted Carter knows anything about you with how quickly this relationship has happened. Did you even know yourself anymore? “Did you give her your ring?”

Linda sighs, waiting on Ransom to look up at her before shaking her head. “It didn’t feel right.”

“Why?”

“He didn’t ask me for it, and I always thought I’d be giving it to you for when you got your head out of your ass and proposed to the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to you,” Ransom looks up at her pouting. “Oh don’t be daft, Ransom. Everyone knows you carry a torch for that girl. You’d marry her tomorrow if she asked. The problem is you wait on her to ask, and she’s never going to. Because she’s too stubborn to admit that she’s in love with you, too.”

Ransom takes a bite of his food, looking at his less than desirable plate. Everything his mom is saying is a lie. You didn’t have any romantic feelings for him. He knew it that next morning. He knew then he was madly in love with you, and you had just been using him as a teacher, and if that’s the only way he could have you in that way, he’d take it

Ransom peers over your spent body. How had it only been a few hours since he finally got to have you in the most intimate of ways. Watch you as your walls came tumbling down, and you gripped tight on more than just his dick. Your hands clung to him. Your eyes couldn’t look away. Capturing him in a way that literally stole his breath away.

And after he cleaned you up, all you wanted was his worn in sweater. It swallowed you whole, and then you put on the most beautiful delicate panties. And now you’re in his bed in a fetal position with your ass right at his crotch. Perfect in ways he didn’t even realize. You were made for him in more ways than he realized.

Sweetly whimpering, you gazed down at where the two of you connected as he pushed through your walls. Nothing but skin on skin, and your wide innocent eyes. Gasping and choking as he slid all the way home. Your squirming wasn’t enough to deter him. You begged, and pleaded for him to show you what the big deal was with sex, and even he couldn’t explain it, until he had you. And everything was otherworldly.

You were overwhelmed, and he couldn’t regulate his breathing. But now that you’re lying next to him blissed out with your post-coital glow, it all makes sense. You may not know it, but you were made for him. You wiggle closer to him, exposing those sinful innocent panties even more, and he places a hand on your hip. Sliding it up and down over your stomach.

He loved you, but now he is completely, utterly, and unapologetically in love with you. He doesn’t even take his eyes off you when the door slowly opens. Linda peeks through the room, and shakes her head sighing. “Your father and I are going to head out for the day. Be smart.”

Ransom nods his head, still looking at you, and Linda already sees the too far gone look. “Here,” she pulls out a bag from the pharmacist, and lays it on his dresser. “Be careful. And I’m not condoning this, I just need you to be smart with this one.”

“Nothing happened,” he’s barely audible. He wished his mother would just leave so he could soak you up. You were exhausted.

“And I wasn’t born yesterday. That’s a Plan B pill. She needs to take it today. Gerald would not be happy with his baby girl winding up pregnant before she went to NYU. He wants to see her dance just like her mom,” Ransom rolls his eyes. Whispering for her to go. “I mean it, son.”

He didn’t care what she thought, he cared what you thought. If you told him today that you didn’t want to go into the city, and didn’t want to strap on another pair of pointe shoes, and didn’t know how to tell your dad, he’d grab your hand, and flee to whatever country you wanted to go to.

He’s not sure how long he lays here, watching you. Kissing over your exposed shoulder. Rubbing over your skin, and maybe selfishing touching your heated mound. But it would never be long enough. This is what he wants for life. You yawn, stirring more before sitting up. Wincing as you do, and you turn back to find Ransom snickering.

“You’re not that big.”

“And just how many cocks have you seen, Belle?” You turn back to look at the door. You should leave soon. You’re surprised that Linda hadn’t come in to tell you it was time to go home. “Mom and dad left. You want to watch a movie?”

He rolls over to his back, and suddenly you feel so empty. So alone, and he’s right there. Things feel the same, and also so very different because whatever last night was you want to do it again. Want to feel him pushing into you, feel his heated breath on your skin, see the sweat beading around his hair. And you asked him so many questions last night. Embarrassing questions, but he answered earnestly.

“They’re gone?” Maybe you didn’t have to leave. You didn’t want to. What you wanted was to try sex again.

“Yeah, she left you a Plan B over there,” you hide your face as every part of you heats up. “It’s fine. She thinks we’ve been sleeping together since we were fifteen years old.”

“That doesn’t help,” you whine, still cowering behind your hands. You had a thought, and then it was squashed.

“At least now you don’t have to go buy one,” you had mentioned it, but Ransom still pulled out of you. You wanted to give all of Ransom your firsts, not sure of why, but you felt like he owned all of them; deserved all your firsts. “Just watch a movie with me. Cuddle with me, and forget we ever had sex, okay?”

“Fine,” you harrumph, twisting over to your other side and face Ransom. Just like normal you lay your head and a hand on his chest. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer, and you caress his bare stomach. Everything is just like normal.

Ransom starts a movie, and you can't focus on anything but him. One time wasn’t enough to learn anything. You were awkward, and stayed in one position. You didn’t try anything. Nothing. This whore of a man stayed having sex, while you waited on him to finish, and would sneak into your bedroom, or you’d sneak into his once you saw the car leave.

Clearly he is feeling the same thing, judging by the tent lifting the blanket, but he says nothing. Not a damn thing. Your body is so heated and wet, you’re ready to burst. You want to try other positions. You want to ride him — ride a dick. You want to fuck in doggy style. And you want to feel cum inside you, not on your stomach.

“Ran,” you make your voice so sweet, and he swats your ass. “Hugh!”

“No! I fucking feel your pussy throbbing on my thigh, and it’s making me hard. It’s my body’s response. Don’t ask!”

“But you’re hard, and you didn’t show me nearly enough,” he spanks your ass again, growling when you whimper. “The Plan B is right over there,” you say loudly, sitting up in bed. “You're hard, I’m wet, and I don’t know how to ride dick. Or how to do it doggy style.”

“Get on all fours. It’s not complicated,” why is he denying you what you want? You wrap your arms around yourself pouting, and he looks back to the movie. Ignoring you completely. He’d fuck girls all weekend, but is denying his best friend. It’s cruel. What do they do that make him not want to stop? They were more aggressive.

Smiling, you clamor over top of him, straddling him as you demand attention. “Look at me.”

“I am. There’s literally nothing else to look at.”

Reaching to the bottom hemline of his sweater, you pull it off you, “Look at me,” he’s looking everywhere but your face. Eyes glossing over as he stares at your tits. It feels nice sitting like this. There’s so much — heat. You need friction. Movement. Think of porn. How do they move on someone? You roll your hips, getting a loud groan from Ransom, so you keep going.

“Touch me,” you whimper, pulling up his hands to place on your tits. “Grope me. Show me what you do to those other girls.”

“No,” he responds flatly.

“Why?” Even though he says no, his hands knead your breasts. Pinching and pulling your nipples as he starts sitting up in the bed. His mouth moving closer to your tits.

“Because I didn’t care about them. They were just a wet hole,” you push him back down onto the bed, and he laughs.

“It’s not funny. What if someone treated me like that?” His face darkens as he looks up at you through his lashes. He is nearly baring his teeth like a wild dog. “What if some man at college uses me just for sex? I don’t want sex to be like that for me. I want it with someone I love.”

“It’s a dangerous game we’re playing,” you know it is. But if you have to play a game, it is going to be with Ransom.

“Just today. Until your parents get back. I want you to explore me. Teach me. Show me. Tell me how to know if a man wants my body or if he wants my heart,” Ransom sits up abruptly, moving his hands to cup your tits. Leaning forward his mouth circles around the sensitive bud, and his teeth scrape over the area, and you arch your back, pushing more into him.

“You’re too eager, and too sensitive. Minimum of five dates before anything moves past your mouths, not even oral. Clothes stay on,” you nod as he moves to the other nipple, and he sucks roughly. His tongue is able to circle around the peak before he pulls off with a pop.

“Remember you deserve the world. Don’t settle for some idiot at a bodega. You need someone that can give you a life of travel, wandering the world, and not having to worry about money. You nod again as he taps your leg, “Lift up a bit.”

Enthusiastically you completely get off him. Standing up on the floor where you shimmy out of your panties. Watching as he slides his boxers down, and you’re already bouncing back to the bed. “Easy. Don’t act like this for others. They’ll take advantage of you. Alright, straddle me, and grab the base of my cock.”

You listen, and start sinking over him. “No, guide me through your wetness. Use your body as lube,” you follow his directions, moving his head through your folds. “Now, find your hole, and slowly sink down. There ya go. Keep going, Belle. Keep taking me,” you sink, chest heaving as you feel him inside you. “Just like that, baby. Just like that. Take all of me. Don’t stop.”

You don’t. You keep taking all of him, until you’ve seated yourself back on top of him. “Now, just let your body adjust to me. Breathe in and out,” he holds up his hands, and you weave your fingers into his. Focusing on breathing, instead of the intense stretch he’s giving your body. You can feel him up to your ears. What is the normal size of a dick? Or is it everything else? Because he’s your Ransom.

“Belle,” his sickeningly sweet nickname for you rings up into your ears, and you can’t help but to roll your hips. “Fuck,” Ransom whispers as you start a slow pace of grinding on him. You look down at him smiling, “What?”

“This doesn’t feel the same,” this feels weaker than whatever he was doing to you last night.

“Because you’re on top, and there’s really not any thrusting,” you curl your nose as you look at him. “It feels amazing, sweetheart, but it’s just stimulating your clit.”

His hands grope the globs of your ass, and he lifts you up, only to let your cunt suck him back up, and a pleasured sigh releases from your mouth. “See. Try it. But just move to make it feel good. I’m enjoying the view of these little bitty titties. Maybe you can make them bounce.”

“You’re so gross.”

You awkwardly move over him a few times, glad it’s Ransom and not some random man that would realize how inexperienced you are. “Here,” he grabs your hands, placing them on his chest, “This anchors yourself, but also makes those tits look phenomenal. Arch your back, and pop your ass, and then contract it. Don’t overcomplicate the movement. And add pressure to me. It won’t hurt, I promise.”

“Pinky promise?”

He smiles, smacking your ass. His face lighting up when you yip, “I promise, now ride that dick,” you want to make a comment to him, but instead it comes out in a weird moan. “You like that, huh?”

“Like what?”

Ransom gets the most devious look on his face, and he grabs your hips, assisting a slow bounce on top of him. “You like someone talking dirty to you? Like hearing that your pussy is so fucking tight hugging my fat cock? Do you like knowing you look like a beautiful little slut, instead of a perfectly poised ballerina? Your training is better suited riding my cock like you own it.”

Your legs tremble with his words. You feel that you’re killing Ransom with how much pressure you have on his chest, but still he talks too filthy to you. “You’re taking me extra deep at this angle, huh? And if you want me to fuck you into the bed, you better make yourself come first.”

“Ransom,” you mewl, finding the most perfect rhythm to take him. Bouncing on top of him quickly. “Hugh,” you feel his cock throb inside of you, and fall on top of his chest, continuing to buck your hips on him. “I feel your heartbeat.”

“You’re laying on my chest, Belle, of course you do. You’re taking me so good, too.”

“No,” his hands smooth up and down your arms, and you feel so safe. Protected in ways that nobody else could. Ransom has always been your best friend. You're solid. The best thing that’s ever happened to you. You would share everything with him. Your life, your dreams, and now your body. “I feel your heart inside of me.”

You sling yourself off Ransom’s stomach, watching his handsome face contort. “Do I feel good?”

“This is best pussy I have ever felt,” he whispers. His fingers create bruises on your skin with how tightly he holds you. “Let me know if I hurt you. I’m trying not to come yet,” you nod, continuing to move over top of him. Whimpering at the sounds the your two wet bodies make in his quiet bedroom. “It’s the best, Belle. Because I actually love you. Put your hands on my thighs, and back.”

“But…you’re going to see everything.”

“That’s the point,” he lifts your hands off his chest. His crooked smirk makes him look more boyish than manlike. “We like seeing your body, but also seeing us slipping into you,” with your mouth turning into an ‘O’, and you do as he asked. Keeping your eyes on him, but he stares at your cunt swallowing him whole.

He looks beautiful watching you. You could almost see a life with the two of you as more than friends, but as lovers. Waking up and riding him every morning. Could anyone make you feel as comfortable as Ransom? Could they know the right things to say and when to say it? Could they also tease you, but never go too far? But if you chose that path with Ransom would it ruin the most perfect thing in your life? Would it be worth it to not have him in your life?

You hated to think about a life without Ransom. Without being the only one to make him smile. You were just as special to him as he was to you. And you cherish him. Even in this lewd act of the two of you changing your relationship in a way, but it feels right. It doesn’t seem grotesque of Ransom to watch your pussy. Even the way he pushes his thumb against your bundle of nerves and creates tight little circles on your skin, it seems to be for your enjoyment. He always makes everything about him.

He adds more pressure. Going faster. Faster. Smiling as your movements become harsh. Rapid. Too much. Body shivering as you set ablaze. Throwing your head back to look up at the ceiling as you sob out his name.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, but it’s so soft, like he doesn’t want you to hear.

You look back down at Ransom, and he gazes up at you like you’re a goddess. “Ran…”

”Get on your knees,” shimmying your shoulders, you position yourself like he asked. Waiting and watching as he climbs behind you. “Lean forward, and closer to the bed. Arch your back,” you do as you're told, but keep your eyes on him. He studies you like you’re a work of art. Running the tip of his head through your folds, you sink even lower, “There’s a good girl. Do you know how swollen your pussy is?”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Uh huh,” he slams himself into your warmth, and you cling to the blankets, crying out. “And I’m about to make her even more puffy,” his movements are all shocking. Skyrocketing your body further up the bed, and making your toes curl in pleasurable agony. Something so rough, shouldn’t feel this good, and yet it’s made you speechless, and gives you a loss of function in your body. It’s just euphoria.

Nothing else matters in this world but the way Ransom is railing into you. The way he grunts with every thrust. The girls he’s probably fucked didn’t matter because there’s no way he fucks them the way he does you. There’s no way that he stares at their cunt like it could solve the world’s problems. And there’s no way that he feels about them the way he feels about you.

You’ve always known that Ransom and you belonged together, but is being together this way so wrong? Is the way that he’s lighting you up, so fucking bad? You’ll probably feel differently when this is over, but right now this is too good to be wrong or a bad idea. This is everything. He’s everything. Everything with you.

“And when you want the best angle,” his arm goes under your stomach, and he pulls your back up to his chest, and somehow manages to fuck into you harder. “I get to see these perfect tits bounce around,” a hand goes around your neck, and you yearn for more pressure. “You have to tell me. Give me permission.”

“Own me. I’m yours,” he adds enough pressure around your neck, so that stars glitter in front of you. His other hand moves down your front where he stimulates your clit, and you scream, “Ransom!”

“I see all of you,” Ransom attaches his mouth to your neck, nipping, and sucking over the column until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. Your stomach swimming with pleasure.

“I feel all of you,” you can’t stop the sounds from pouring out of your body, and the fluids. My god, why is everything so wet and sloppy? “My perfect, sloppy little slut. You know, I have a secret to tell you.”

“Come inside of me,” you’d hear about the secret later. “Your mom brought the pill. Just do it!” Everything happens so fast. His hands move around your body. Pulling, pinching, slapping, squeezing. What is this? What even is happening besides heaven?

You can’t take it anymore. This much pleasure can’t be good for one person, and you let go. Giving into the salacious pleasure, “No one has ever taken my entire cock,” Ransom says on your neck, and your walls clench down, holding him in a vice grip. Pulsing and fluttering around his body, until warm ribbons of cum burst into your belly, and you sigh. Relaxing in his embrace.

Nobody ever would feel this absolute. Because you were made for Ransom. He is so gentle as he lays you down on his bed. Walking into his en-suite with his cute tush bare to you. “Where are you going?”

He returns with a wet washcloth, and you roll over onto your back, “You’re doing that thing you did last night. What are you staring at?”

“Watching myself leak out of someone for the first time. And yeah, that thing I did last night is cleaning you up. Never settle for a man that doesn’t want to give you the best aftercare, and cuddle afterwards,” oh. So he was still in the mindset of this was just practice amongst friends. You can be, too. He was right after all, a messy breakup wasn’t worth losing a friendship.

He tosses the rag into his hamper before dropping down onto the bed, “What’s the next lesson, Ran?”

“Sucking cock like a porn star. You want to watch porn together?” you giggle, rolling your eyes at him before plopping onto the bed. Scooting closer to him.

“What?” You snuggle in closer with him. Desiring nothing more than his sticky skin on yours.

“How will you know what you want, if you don’t see what else is out there?” There is a bit of logic to this, but watching porn with Ransom would be weird, right?

“We can watch porn, if you promise to try it out with me. Just to see if I like it?” Ransom shrugs as he smiles, clicking on his phone a bit. “I’m serious!”

“You’re addicted to sex, and to my cock. Careful, Belle, I might have to dump you like the rest of them,” rolling your eyes, you settle back beside Ransom, clicking on a video before it casts to his tv. “Seriously? My stepsister let me creampie her tight little pussy?”

“No! I just clicked on something!” Mortified, you hide your face in his chest.

“You’ve ruined the algorithm now. It’s going to be step sibling porn the rest of the evening now.”

“What about best friends?”

“Is that we are?” You nod your head, and Ransom ignores you, clicking on his phone. “Here, playing truth or dare with my best friend until she lets me fuck her until I bust a load. This should satisfy your filthy self.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so good at sex.”

“Just promise me you won’t just fuck random guys. You deserve a relationship, okay?” You hold up a pinky, and Ransom wraps his own around yours. “Alright, slut, and I mean that in the most nice way possible,” and please, don’t fall in love with anyone but Ransom.

“Whore.”

“Ransom!” Ransom stares up at his mom, scowling. Years without you had hardened him. Years without your softness, and giggles, and private performances on a daily basis, and years without the way you felt on top of him. It’d been miserable. But he was trying to be happy that you had found your one.

“She’s in town,” Ransom shrugs. “Rain is in the forecast,” he smirks, pushing his chair back. “Be nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

Next

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @marvelmcumania @elrw24 @theinheriteddutchess

[buubonita]

dear buubonita,

does brobonita prefer a FLUFFY CUTE ADORABLE SWEET RECOVERY trio dynamic or a FUCK OH SHIT THIS WILL NOT END IN ANYTHING BUT TEARS AND PAIN dynamic :3 i flipflop between the 2,,,, (but if i want cute fluff then i can just imagine my jk fashion au!!! i mean its not a PERFECT substitute for the mtt but hey it does the job)

burning in hell with the trio, triglycercule

brononita sounds like a male version of me. That's so funny. Brobonita is canon.

NOW.

I think it depends. I like both of them, but it depends on the process the characters go through to begin with. It also depends on the characterization they are giving to the characters as well. Sometimes I like being evil and letting everyone get stuck in an endless cycle of pain, other times I like the idea of ​​them getting the peace they need.

Killer is the only one of the three that can have a good ending in his canon, which is nice to see. But I also like the opposite case because I think escaping abusive situations are really complicated and sometimes it seems impossible. But, luckily, it is possible with the right help and it is nice to see that Killer has a friend like Color to save him.

Horrortale doesn't have its ending yet, everything points to him being doomed to die in his timeline and frankly maybe it is the best thing that can happen to him until someone resets his world again. There is no happy ending for anyone in Horrortale, I think. Not even for Aliza even if she comes out of that rotten pit alive. The aftereffects that will remain in them is one thing I always think about.

My understanding is that Dust would be left to die in his timeline, waiting in case the player ever returns. And that is truly tragic.

Nightmare is literally dead and the thing that pretends to be him doesn't seem willing to show any mercy. The funny thing is that, at best, the corrupted Nightmare gets bored of the Undertale multiverse and leaves for another.

Maybe the only way for the MTT to be free is for Nightmare to get bored and disappear one day? and along with him Dream too.

But sometimes i just love to think silly settings where they all are happy and fine, not gonna lie to you, trigly bud.

[batcavescolony]

Music Artist: so I wrote this song and it sounds pretty but if you look into the words it's actually really messed up. I wrote it to make people think about looking past the surfa-

Some of y'all: OMG 🥰 this song is so PRETTY 🌸🌼 IT'S SO HAPPY!

[jils-things]

2024 is probably not my best year now that i think about it

[timewontwait]

honestly at this rate, i’m considering going back to fic writing/drawing fan works full swing

[snekdood]

i just struggle to believe theres any ethical way to harvest meat. farm animal dying of old age? yeah. ok. sure. but farm animals aren't going to be perpetually dying of old age enough to fulfill the demand for their meats. you can make better and more convincing arguments to me for ethically harvesting eggs, wool and milk rather than meat.

[quimichi]

NSFW - MDNI

He's obsessed with your voice. He loves the way you whimper and just struggle your words out. He loves to to tease, he LIVES to tease you. He's so mean whe he asks what you want, just so he can deny it and command you to beg for it.

He's buried deep inside of you, barely able to hold himself up, panting heavily. He looks down at the pretty face you're making and he can't help but think that the only thing that would make it better is the sound of your beautiful voice.

"Tell me what you want, baby" he breathes in your ear, dropping his head down to your neck. He stopped moving. His hot breath hitting your heated skin. "I asked you somethin'~" he hums leaning back down to press kiss over your shoulder. You can practically feel his smirk in his voice.

"Please-" is all you're able to stutter out at first and it makes him grin onto your skin as he lifts his head to shake it at you. "Naw, I couldn't quite hear you princess,.. you should use bigger words for your needs?" there's this pout on his face, he's mocking you. Out of desperation you kiss him, in hopes that he could possibly forget about your loss of words.

He indulges you for a few seconds before pulling away and raising his eyebrow at you. That's when you realise he's serious; he really won't move an inch until you tell him exactly what you want. "Please-, just.. fuck me" you whine, you know it won't be enough for him but you hope it is because if he doesn't move in the next thirty seconds you feel you might combust. You honestly don't know what will combust, but something is definitely blowing up and its also gonna be you.

"Good start, baby, but it's not enough" he chuckles at your responding whine and buries his head into you neck chuckling. Although this is more than entertaining, he also has to hide the fact this is just as agonizing for him like it is for you. "How do you want it, hm? Tell me how you want me to fuck you." "Please, just fuck me. Fuck me hard. Fuck me dumb. Fuck me so hard you break me, the bed or the wall. I don't care just please fuck me" you desperately shout out in embarrassment.

He lets out an elated laugh, this is exactly what he wants to hear. He leans in to kiss you and ends up muffling the happy whine you let out when he finally starts moving. But quickly you feel dizzy, you're beyond coherent words at this point. You can't even think straight. He feels so good inside you that you almost go crazy. You instinctively grab at his skin, raking your nails over his shoulder blades. He loves being able to get you like this, he loves listen to you break like this. You and the pretty noises you make are all his to enjoy....

Kageyama, Tsukishima, Matsukawa, Kuroo, Atsumu, Suna, Tendou, Terushima (haikyuu)

Kaeya, Al-Haitham, Ayato, Itto, Scaramouche, Wriothesley, Dottore, Pantalone (genshin)

Geto, Nanami, Gojo, Toji (JJK)

Hisoka, Chrollo, Feitan, Phinks (HxH)

Rafayel (love and deepspace)

Leona, Lilia, Jade, Floyd, Ace, Trey (twst wonderland)

[4rafe]

rafe cameron

setting down the perfect shade of a baby pink louis vuitton backpack onto rafes messy bed. he had got you a full set of louis vuitton luggage for your birthday just a couple of weeks ago, personalized it with such a beautiful pink and your name embroidered on.

opening your bag, mindlessly going through the couple of pairs of brandy melville pajama sets you packed with you and choosing which one you wanted to wear more. choosing between one and the other was so complicated but when all else fails, you can always rely on the opinion from a man with the name, rafe cameron!

you picked up both sets, making sure the cute design showed perfectly with a huge giggly smile on your face. the sounds of your feet hitting the wood floor as you were walking up to him to ask the big question, "rafey, which one" you smiled big, only your eyes peeking over the pj sets as you held them up for his decision. even though you gave him two options, there was one you 'picked out' in specific. insisting he answer 'correctly' with the tone in your voice.

he turned around to look at you when you called his name following with a question. his eyebrows furrowed from the petty little design that covered the sets of your clothing. raising his pointer finger to choose which set even as the words came out of his mouth, "that one, bunny." he answered as his phone dinged and he pulled it out of his pocket to answer.

you squealed to yourself with a big happy smile on your face, you were ecstatic that he choose the one you wanted him to even though you knew either one would have been just.. fine. you thought to yourself about your silliness to ask whenever you knew what you wanted to wear but it was much better having rafey pick for you.

when he choose, you stood up on your tippy toes as far as you could to reach rafes cheek as he held his phone up to his ear on the other side, giving him a sloppy kiss for his decision before having to come back down as you couldn't stand on them for very long. being in a talking stage with a man who stood at 6'1" came with its many different challenges, romantic ones included but, in all ends, you really liked it.

making your way back to rafes bed where your backpack still laid you heard him mumble something to you. hearing his mumbles made you turn back around, looking at him, "hm?" you questioned. notifying to rafe that you don't know what he had asked of you the first time but now he had your attention.

rafe brought his hand up to chin, rubbing slowly as if he was in a trance of thought, "why do you bring that backpack with you every time you stay, princess?" he had asked of you. you turned around to face him, placing the backpack onto the ground after all decisions were made. "its my spend-the-night bag!" you smiled big at him and giggled in response.

"what the hell is a spend-the-night bag, that's fuckin stupid." he said to you and your smile dropped instantly which was so weird because you knew how rafe was, mean. but he never really meant it "mean" towards you it still doesn't mean it didn't hurt.

he saw as your smile dropped, knowing his words hurt you tremendously. he waved his hand at you, telling you to come to him. he took a seat on the bench that was placed in his room, as you walked towards him. as you stood in front of him, he wrapped his fingers around your thigh, pulling you forward as he guided your legs around his. as you sat down on his lap you let down your head, feeling embarrassed that he saw his words effect you so much. he brought his hand up to your chin, feeling his cold golden rings on your skin, lifting it up so you were looking at his eyes and he started to explain to you,

"bunny.. all im saying is, everyone in this shitty town knows you're mine. there's no need to keep bringing your stuff back and forth. just move all your stuff in with me." hearing his sweet words made a big smile appear on your face again which made rafey smile as well. he made you so happy, it was silly, you were head over heels for him and you wanted everyone to know it.

later that week, you were all moved in. so so in love.

[satowooo]

A DAY IN THE LIFE... WITH A CAT

Wherein Sukuna takes care of your cat for a day, despite his indifferences with it.

warning: animal cruelty

Your boyfriend, Ryomen Sukuna, is obviously not very fond of cats. Or to any living and breathing creature at all. But most especially your cat.

Sukuna hates it. Despise it even. He wishes it to be gone with just one flick of his finger just so the silly furball wouldn't take his time away from you. He hopes it'll get tired of you and run away someday because why are you always up on its face?

But then, that would make you sad. So he won't actually do anything to harm it, as much as he can.

To Sukuna, your cat is the most unearthly being that has ever walked on earth. Always tailing you around like a constant shadow, a menacing shadow. He dislikes it so much that it gets more of your attention than his.

“So cute!”

Sukuna watches the way your eyes glint in delight, squealing and feet kicking in the air while you're turned to your stomach right by the floor, playing with the little kitten you adopted. You had the most beautiful and widest grin spread on your face, and all because of an animal.

You can't seriously be so happy over that?

It has been a month since that kitten entered your life, and you hadn't been the same since. Well, you are the same, it's just Sukuna being exaggerated.

Why wouldn't he? You barely even look at him anymore because you're too focused on doting and feeding that animal, to the point that he's already making it a silent competition between him and the kitten about who wins your affections. And the cat wins every time. Every fucking time.

You're so head over heels about the white-furred kitten and he will never understand why. It's just another responsibility for you, another creature that will just distract you from your daily living, the daily living in question being the time that you're supposed to be doing with him instead.

“Look, Kuna!” You cheered, holding the cat by its arms to show the kitten to him, the said animal wearing small little glasses that would fit its little face.

Sukuna could only sneer, a frown obviously etched in his lip. “He looks pathetic. Get him out.”

“That's mean. Don't listen to him.” You turned the cat to face you and covered its ears, as if it'll understand what Sukuna says. The cat in return hisses at Sukuna, which made him scoff in disbelief.

Why are you even treating the kitten like a real baby? It looks so ugly!

But despite his inner thoughts, he actually finds himself caring for the cat, begrudgingly.

It's a furry dirty cat. He would only bring chaos all around your shared apartment. It probably doesn't even know how to clean itself. Sukuna would always think.

But he never really had a choice whenever you're gone at home, and he's left tending to the cat’s crazy needs.

“Will you fucking stay still?” Sukuna holds the cat by its scruff, not too tight though, just enough to hold him up to meet his gaze. The white kitten was all wet after Sukuna just gave him a bath. It meowed at him helplessly, making him smirk to finally see it in distress. “You're a handful, kitten. Why does she like you so much?”

This must've been the longest day for him yet, with you leaving Sukuna with the task to shower the kitten in your place because you'll be out the whole day. Who's he to disobey you anyway?

He wrapped the kitten in a towel, then took him by the counter. He let it sit there for a moment while it was licking its paws, while he rummaged through the cabinets to look for the hair dryer that you always used for the cat. Once he had it in hand, he faced the kitten again, his eyes glaring at the small creature who's just looking at him curiously.

This? This is the cat that you fawn over? He looks even ugly when he's drenched.

He could only shake his head at the thought, before plugging in the hair dryer so he could do his work. The cat tried to run away when he pulled him close, the hair dryer making a loud blowing sound as he fanned it all over the cat's body. A smile would tug on Sukuna's lips, finding the cat's helpless state funny whenever it meows in discomfort at his presence.

Well, let's just say it wasn't a very pleasant experience for the poor animal. As much as it is for Sukuna.

“Yeah, you look horrible. I know.” He chuckled darkly, gazing at the now dried-and-furry-again cat, all thanks to him.

He carried the cat and put it down the floor, letting it run away. He sighs, brushing a tired hand on his nape before he goes over to slump on the couch, resting his eyes for a moment. He could hear the thumps of the kitten running around, stumbling over who knows what, but he couldn't care less. Right now, Sukuna needs to have a moment. It was surely a new experience for him, and something that he will never do again.

It didn't take long for the kitten to go back to him though. It easily jumped on the couch, climbing straight to his lap. He groaned, feeling the cat tapping its little paws on his skin, opening his eyes to see it looking at him, expecting, or perhaps, asking for something?

“What do you want now?”

The kitten meowed, before jumping off his lap and heading straight to a little cabinet by the wall, where his cat food was hidden.

Oh, it's smart. He'll give him that.

“You're hungry?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at it. “Go starve yourself.”

Which wouldn't happen really, because the kitten started meowing furiously at him, which jolted all his senses awake. He cursed underneath his breath, letting out a grunt, standing up so he could give whatever the thing that the creature needed.

It was a very long and tiring day for him indeed. But at the end of the day, he's got the cat settled right above his chest, and he's petting its head softly as it lets out a purr. The cat’s tail would brush across his wrist, a sign that the cat must've been pleased with the gesture.

“I'll let you live longer.” He frowned, a low huff escaping from his lips as the cat only looked at him. “Just remember your place in this house.” Flicking the cat’s forehead softly as a finality, before he pushes it off and lets it fall on the floor, the cat swiftly landing on its feet.

After all, his pleasure is not his top priority, but yours. So, if keeping you happy would mean having this little cat between the two of you, then he might just let it for a while. For a while. Maybe. Depends if the cat crosses a line.

[myfandomrealitea]

I know there's a lot of advice for handling things like depression and its so fucking easy for people to say "just do this and you'll feel better!" and I hate that, I fucking despise it, but I'm also gonna throw in my two cents about what is personally helping me get out of bed some days and genuinely, not kill myself.

Its taking care of nature.

Seriously. It sounds stupid and some days it feels stupid, but I put up bird feeders because I live in a semi-rural area where human activity is decimating the local bird population and options for safe feeding. So I put up bird feeders. And now I have like 83 different birds flocking to my garden on the daily and screaming at my window if the feeders are empty. And I've seen generations of baby birds brought to my garden by their parents because this is where the food is.

And I researched what plants and flowers were native to my area and I spent like $5 on a few different seed packets and sprinkled them around the grass and the sad empty flowerbeds and the lawn because the bees have nothing to eat and that's awful and it turns out wildflowers will fucking GROW the moment you look away, but now every spring and summer my lawn is a pretty little multi-colored bug haven.

And I've even gotten the chance to save a few little bug lives because of it. I've taken in cold-shocked bees and given them a warm little tupperware to recover in. I've fed bugs sugar water to get their energy back to take their food home. I've given dying bugs a sheltered, safe place to spend their last moments.

I planted a veggie garden. And I know I'm very lucky in that I have the space to do that, but also, you can grow a lot of things indoors. My friend has literally the smallest apartment you can imagine but she grows chives in her bathroom and grows five radishes at a time in a pot in the kitchen. Literally five. But it makes her so happy every single time she pulls them up or trots off to the bathroom to snip some chives.

I pick trash up every two weeks. The pick stick was like $4 online and I just put the bag out with my bi-weekly trash pick-up and its disgusting but but nobody else is gonna do it and I've only got finite time on this earth. If nobody else is going to pick up that can, I will. Because some innocent wild animal doesn't deserve to get hurt by human ignorance, and I deserve to walk home and see pretty flourishing nature instead of depressing discarded trash like I feel like most days.

I've left water out for the wildlife and watched hedgehogs, local dogs on their walks, squirrels and all sorts stop by to take a drink, because humans are fucking selfish and we're making something as basic as water so hard to access for anyone but ourselves, but I can fix a little bit of that just by putting out a bowl. Sometimes I don't even have to remember to fill it because the rain will fill it for me, and its kind of like nature's way of saying "you're helping me so I'm going to help you out too." Which is neat.

Like most days I do not want to be living on this earth but my god earth did not get a choice about us living here, and we're ruining it, and it actually feels so good to help stop and un-do a little bit of that destruction.

And you don't even have to try everything I do. If the only thing you've got the spoons to do is buy one bird feeder and you only remember to fill it once a month, its still something. That once a month could mean the difference between starvation and a full belly to a bird.

Again, none of this is obligatory and I'm not saying at all this is some magical cure for depression, but personally these things are things which are helping me slowly find things to keep getting out of bed for and things to feel a sense of self worth and satisfaction over. I feel better both in and about myself when I feed the birds, when I see the bugs in the garden, when I pick up the trash.

If its something you haven't considered yet, it might be worth a try.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

HEAR ME OUT

“Don’t you think I’m scary?”

“Scary? My god you’re divine”

AHHHHH

FuskqosnisisbssbjHWISNSKSOAOAKWAJ 😭😭🤭🤭😋😋

I love two lovestruck idiots who don’t know they’re in love w each other and it’s grumpy German shepherd x golden retriever 😻😻

PLEAAASEE german shepherd x golden retriever is one of my faaavvv tropes OAT !! it’s so so adorable and especially with katsuki cus i know he just thinks he’s so scary ! i got a lil idea after the recent manga chap that just came out, so this might be a liiiiiittle super small spoiler but i think its so cute ! hope you enjoy anon tysm for the ask ! much luv xxx

fem reader, super duper minooor spoiler but katsuki has stitches !, mutual pining, idiots in love, soft katsu (cus he has to be but also cus he’s whipped) (but hes still a little piece of shit) reader is a lil sweetie, short lil fluffy fic, touchy katsuki bc i cannot help myself, lmk if i missed anything else !

before the war, bakugou had made a lot of new little habits.

he’s made it a habit of waiting for you to head out of class so you could walk together. he’s made it a habit of sharing just a portion of his lunch with you, because apparently he’s constantly been making too much, ignore the fact that he only let’s you have those ‘extra’s’ that doesn’t mean anything.

he’s made it a habit of carrying around an extra water bottle with him because you always forget to keep yourself hydrated after training, he’s also made it a habit to scold you for it endlessly. he’s ruthless even as you whine about how mean he is, saying that “he wouldn’t need to be on your ass so much if you just remembered to grab your damn bottle.” he ignores the fluffy feeling in his heart and tells you to shut up when you tell him that he always has your back anyway, swiftly looking away from you and cheeks turning red.

and since you're on the way to his house, he's made it a habit of walking you home. you call it hanging out after school, he calls it 'just making sure you don't get lost somehow..hah ?! don't ask me how ! your dumbass would probably find a way to !'

anyway, he's made it his mission to grace you with his presence every day after school. you always bid him a cheery goodbye, "see you tommorow !" you say, and he always looks forward to it, even when he turns away, nonchalantly throwing you a quick wave over his shoulder.

usually you wake up at completely different hours, so he doesn't pick you up the morning. you always wished you could see him first thing in the morning, but seeing him waiting by the school gate's was more than enough to make your heart soar, you were more than happy with that.

but today you can finally go back to school. after dealing with non stop fighting for what felt, and probably was, hours and hours on end during the events of the war. and being stuck in the hospital for a few weeks, it feels nice to wear your school uniform and feel somewhat normal again. you'd get to see all your friends again and you'd official be a second year. you smile softly to yourself in the mirror.

katsuki had sent you a text a few minutes ago. he'd asked if you were almost ready, and you'd responded that you were only for him to leave you on read. you didn't mind much and shrugged it off.

but today, when you walk out the door, you see katsuki waiting for you on the sidewalk.

you blink twice, eyes widening. katsuki turns and looks up from his phone screen at the sound of the door he also blinks, although he's more unbothered then you as he simply stands up, pushing himself off his knees with a groan "took you long enough." he drawls. his eyes are warm and his lip twitch just the slightest bit at your expression "thought you'd keep me waiting forever."

"katsuki !" you exclaim, eyes still wide "what're you doing here ?!" you quickly walk to him, standing close enough to see the marks on his face, and the unmistakable stitches on his cheek.

he raises a brow like you're crazy, tilting his head "m'walking you to school."

"bwuh-are you even allowed to go to school ?" you sputter, realising he had his school uniform on, you liked it when he started making it a habit of wearing his tie more often. katsuki grumbles at your worries "shouldn't you be in the hospital ?" he scoffs at your fretting, but his eyes soften as he leans in closer to you. you see his battle scars better that way. you gulp at the sudden proximity, he's never been shy about getting in people's faces, although it was never meant to be intimidating when he did it with you, if the pink tint of his cheeks meant anything.

"doc said it's fine as long as i keep quiet.." he scoffs after finishing the sentence, rolling his eyes and causing you to giggle. hearing the sound he hadn't heard in what felt like ages made him sniff in amusement. you reach for his hand then, and he doesn't take his eyes off you while intertwining his fingers with yours. both your eyes shining with longing and affection for the other. you smile brightly at him and even though the doctors had told him to be careful with his heart, it seemed you were gonna make that hard for him. it didn't matter though, he was always up for a challenge.

pulling him along, you decide to tease him "guess that means you're gonna have to be on your best behaviour today, huh ? so you can't go gettin' mad at kaminari for no reason !" you playfully scold.

he rolls his eyes at the mention of your friend, though he doesn't hold back his smirk, he's definitely more open then he was compared to when you'd first started school. thinking about how far you've come together makes you happy, but it also feels bittersweet. "dunce face s'the who keeps pissin' me off, not my fault he can't handle it." you snicker and he snorts in amusement, squeezing your hand and making butterflies squirm around in your stomach. you don't mention the tight grip he has on your hand, probably because you're gripping his just as tight with no intention of letting go anytime soon. you probably look like a couple to the people walking by, you realise. and the thought does not displease you at all, far from it. it makes you a little too happy.

"behave." you squeeze his hand.

"i do." he growls, squeezing back, "he keeps trying me." you respond with a snort. your eyes occasionally fly towards his face, to the stitches on it more specifically. he's caught you looking multiple times on the way to the bus stop, not like you were exactly being subtle. your stare makes him nervous and he decides to finally confront you about it when you get to the bus stop.

"spit it out." he says, hands clammy in your grip, he hopes and prays you don't notice because it's so unbearably embarrassing to have to admit he was worried about what you'd think about his new look. he'd been anxious on your doorstep but you didn't give him much of a reaction, too shocked to even see him at the time, but your constant shifty glances made all the anxiety crawl back up again. so he speaks, keeping these distracting and frankly irritating thoughts to himself just irritated him.

you blink, humming curiously. katsuki grumbles to himself, keeping his eyes from yours. "ya keep staring at me, so what's up ?"

"it's strange seeing you with stitches." you answer bluntly. usually, he likes how honest you are, but right now it does nothing but stress him out. "i heard you messed your face up pretty bad, but i'm glad it didn't leave too much of a nasty scar." you muse. katsuki hums but his eyebrows furrow as he catches your last words, he's a little pissed off that you'd heard about what happened during the war. he'd wanted you to know as little as possible to keep from worrying you, or at the very least he'd wanted to tell you himself. he'll make sure to thoroughly question his fuckass friends later. of course, it also could've been her.

"..how'd you-"

"your mom told me."

he grunts. of course, it was his mom.

that damn hag..

"of course." he mutters bitterly. you don't respond, and to him that's all the answer he needs. a pit settles in his stomach.

"yeah, it's weird, isn't it ?" he agrees bitterly, unconsciously tightnening his grip on your hand. "it looks kinda creepy, right ?"

"what do you mean ?" his jaw tightens " i mean..like, on my face..." he sputter and mutters to himself, unable to properly say what he wants. you understand him though and immediately you turn till your face to face with him. your expression determined as you grab his other hand, both of his scarred hands now in your grip. his eyes widen in shock, embarrassment creeping up on him.

"there's nothing wrong with your face, katsu." you reassure, you'd made it a habit of calling him all those stupidly endearing nicknames, and it doesn't help taming the blush on his face slowly bleeding onto his cheeks. he pouts, fixing his gaze onto you and towards the floor.

"but doesn't it look..i dunno," he mutters, suddenly feeling self conscious "scary ?"

"scary ?" you tilt your head, he squints and looks away.

"i guess." he grunts with a nod, trying to save face. obviously it doesn't work by the look on yours. you're always so bubbly and sweet, he hates seeing such a pained expression on your face. you tug at his arms to get him to look at you "scary ? there's nothing scary about you.." you say sweetly, shaking your head. "i personally think you look really cool.." you mutter. katsuki feels his face heat, but his heart soars nonetheless. his eyes have been stuck wide for a second.

cool.

you think he looks cool.

"i was just wondering if they hurt ?" he tilts his head back in thought at that. instictively running his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

"nah, just felt weird when they were numbing it. but i didn't feel a thing." he shrugs, he suddenly smirks, the stitches being pulled up by the movement "wanna touch em ?" he teases, pulling you closer by the grip he still has on your hands. your eyebrows shoot to your hairline and he barks out a laugh.

"i-i can't do that ! what if i touch them and they come loose or something !" katsuki rolls his eyes at your jittering, using the hand still in his grip to bring it near his cheek, you desperately pull back and his evil smirk widens.

"katsuki, no !" you protest. he cackles meanly.

"it's fine." he insists, your pointer finger grazes his cheek and you turn your head away.

"i don't wanna !" you shake your head, your shoulders shaking as you hold back a giggle.

"yn. you're fine." he insists. he'd made it a habit of calling you by your first name after you'd started hanging out more. you called most of your friends by their first names pretty quickly into the year, your cheeriness making it easy for you to get along with everyone but you always were a little on guard with katsuki at first. he'll never admit it, but he was a little jealous that you'd call everyone in your shared friend group by their first name except for him. the sweet bubbly tone in your voice when you called for sero or kirishima made a nasty feeling bubble up in the pits of his stomach he'd desperately tried to push away. until one day he'd snapped during your group outing at the mall (outing he was coerced into going to by kirishima after finding out you where going too)

he'd regretted how whiney and bitter he sounded at the time, but he thinks it was worth it every time you'd look at him and say his name so sweetly, definitely worth it, as embarrassing as it was. and he'd started calling you by your first name too shortly after. all your friends do, but it felt so, so different with him.

finally your fingers make contact with the staples on his cheek. you peek up to look at him then. you run your fingers across them ever so softly, making sure not to hurt him. katsuki slowly let's go of your hand. unmoving and unnervingly still as you take your time scanning his face.

"so ?" he raises a brow, smirk slowly melting into a softer smile as he sees you smile to yourself.

"it's..not bad.." you tentatively start, still too worried to move too suddenly. he hums playfully. "and you don't feel it at all ?" you ask

"at all." he softly shakes his head. you don't realise you've gotten closer to his face but he sure has, and you end up realizing a little too late, but neither of you move away. you try to, but katsuki pulls you back in before you can get far. "do i still look cool up close ?" he jests, but there's some seriousness and vulnerability in his gaze. you smile warmly.

"yup," you say softly, you hear katsuki inhale sharpy, eyes never leaving yours "definitely still the coolest. not scary at all" you giggle, he rolls his eyes but chuckles. before you can question your positition or move away (or closer) to him you see the bus arriving in the distance. he notices it too and you share a look before you take a step back, smiling shyly at the floor while he keeps his gaze on the bus on the way.

until—

"OW, fuck !!"

your eyes snap up to see katsuki holding his cheek in his hand, your heart hammers and your eyes widen. you're next to him in two steps. "what, what—why-what happened ??!" you stammer, your hands reaching up to grab ahold of his face though you stutter, maybe it was your fault ?!

until—katsuki bursts out laughing. mean, but undeniably cute watery cackles that have you furrowing your brows in confusion until your jaw drops in realization.

the. asshole.

"you're not funny !" you whine, pushing at his arm although pushing might be the overstatement of the century. it could be more comparable to a nudge because even though he is an asshole, you wouldn't want to hurt him. even if he deserves it, you're better than that. you'll just think about hurting him.

katsuk chuckles breathelessly, grabbing your arm while you walk closer and stretch your arm out to signal the bus to stop. "it was funny, admit it !"

"you suck. you're the worst." scanning your bus ticket and walking ahead ignoring him, katsuki quickly scans his ticket and follows diligently behind you.

"you thought it was hilarious." he smirks.

"the absolute worst, the lowest of the low." you huff, ignoring the persistant heat of his eyes on you. he only snickers.

"i see you laughing."

today, you arrive to school with katsuki not at the school gates waiting for you, but walking together with you to start your new school year as second years. and you both hope you can make a habit out of this.

[prettyboykatsuki]

mindfuck. | sunday (hsr)

𖤓 tags ; afab + gn!reader, established relationship, established d/s dynamic (implied to be 24/7), extremely submissive!reader, soft dom!sunday, mindfucking in a sense, extremely horny telepathic communication, sensation play (pain + pleasure), intesne, overstimulation, oral (f!recieving), penetration, misuse of aeonly abilities, very lovey-dovey in an insane way, lowk mutually codependent lol, 18+

𖤓 wc ; 4k. (this is.. wow)

𖤓 a/n ; this was not written with canon in mind. this was written with heart-eyes and wet pussy. if it does not make sense with his canon abilities, it is not my business !

everything in this dynamic is very consensual but sunday pushes reader a lot so it gets intense for them. they have aftercare !! but they are both insane so please be cautious!! i dont think it warrants dark content but it is . wild.

He won't put on airs in front of you.

Maybe it's because your lovers, as he describes it. Not partners because that implies equal control, not something so juvenile as your boyfriend. Lovers. Sunday refers to you unilaterally as his lover. As his.

As his lover, he remains ruthless. He doesn't lie though. He's frank with you to the point you wonder how he lies so easily with everyone else. He shows you the vulnerability of his grip strength, the intensity of his feelings for you. Sunday loves you. He won't put on airs about this.

Sunday loves you, so there's no need to worry about anything. Don't worry about the bed you sleep in, the clothes you wear, the things you eat. Sunday won't put on airs about wanting to let you have freedom. He doesn't even pretend like he'd be happy if something caused you to leave. He wouldn't tell you to find someone else should you grow sick of him.

Be with him. Let him love you. He'll carve something out of his heart and keep you there - conform to his ribs and listen to the sound of its beat. You're his lover. All his. Bone, blood, faith, religions - all his, always.

When Sunday is in a bad mood, you can always tell. Though his face remains indifferent - he's harder on you than he is usually. He's not often in a bad mood and the difference might look minor to anyone else. And identifying the source of his mood is arduous, because often it's him thinking himself into a corner. The worst of it comes when he convinces himself you want to leave him, even when you assure you have no such intentions.

Sunday is twisted. You know that. But you willingly handed him the chain to your leash. It's no doubt you're just as rotten.

His mood, though usually magnanimous - can become cold and ruthless and brutal on days like that.

There are three things that tell you that Sunday is in a bad mood when he visits your room today.

First, that he's meeting you in the real world and not in the dreamscape. Sunday doesn't like reality. If he's meeting you there - it means that he is wanting affirmation you are real despite everything, which is not a sign of him being very level-headed.

The second is that he's being affectionate. He comes to your door and kisses you on the lips before making you greet him. A deep kind of kiss, shared between average people. Lacking control and precision - all want.

The third is that he takes off his clothes when he closes the door behind. He makes you sit on the bed like always, but doesn't join you in his full attire. He doesn't make you get naked and come sit in his lap while he still has his suit on.

You have a routine about this after all. Sunday comes, makes you sit at his feet until he's pleased with your begging - makes you cum to the point of delirium than murmurs softly until you've sobered again. He'll talk to you afterwards. Lays in bed next to you and strokes your hair with absent fondness only after affording you pleasure. Only after paying him your worship.

But he skips the step entirely today and undresses. He's never undressed without you asking him. Always a reward.

You want to ask what exactly has him this desperate, but you're almost afraid to know. It's so unusual it jars you.

He has his back turned away from you on the bed where you sit. You're naked with the exception of a choker. Sunday is undressing in front of you, all without you asking. It feels like something you shouldn't look at, though he hasn't forbidden you from it explicitly.

You peek anyway, pushing away the guilt.

He undresses himself neatly. Slides the silk of his gloves off and lays them flat on the armchair nearby. He shrugs his white coat off, follows it. His fingers are beautiful and soft outside of their confines, and they unbutton his shirt dexterously. Off with his vest and his other attire - once his top half is bare he turns to you.

Despite yourself, you try to level your enthusiasm. You look down at the bed underneath you, only listening for his footsteps. Instead you find the hardness of your heartbeat, rising into your throat.

Your skin feels hot. He hasn't even touched you but you're wet, albeit afraid of what any of it means.

You feel your pulse quicken impossible when his hand brushes along your cheek. His fingers are long and slender, his nails as pristine as the rest of him.

"Look at me."

And so you do, picking your head up to gaze at him. His expression is unreadable, but different. "Is everything okay?"

That seems to shock him. He smiles that time, comfortably. "Everything is fine. Something came up. I thought I'd come see you."

"Oh well, I'm glad you came to see me," You say quickly and he smiles again even softer. "But, well. It's different."

"It is. Is that a problem?"

"No, no - I just. Are you upset?"

"Not with you," He's quick to assure. You love him, you think. It's things like that that make you love him. "Something annoyed me."

"Is that right," You look up at him and look closer. "Can I help you?"

You feel it then. There's a shift in his demeanor. He's pleased with the question, with your attitude. You feel his hand nearly tremble as he strokes you fondly. "You want to make me feel better?"

You feel strange. Skittish. "Y-yes. If that's alright."

"Aren't you very generous?" He replies. It sounds like praise, makes your stomach turn. "There's something I'd like to do with you. Will you allow me?"

You're not sure why he's asking. "You don't need to ask my permission for anything."

He shivers at that. You think he does. It's brief enough that you miss it. His eyes lid, thumb smoothing across your lower lip. "That's right. You're all mine, aren't you?"

You nod. "Uh-huh."

He smiles at you. Laughs, pleasant and warm and rich. It's an unfamiliar sound - almost carefree. It makes you happy to hear but you try not to let it show so he doesn't get conscious of it. Still, you smile. Stare down at the space underneath and glance at his naked torso and flush all over again.

"Then, allow me," He sits next to you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He grabs your hand tender and guides you into his lap. The amount of contact is so much unprepared, your knees feel weak. He allows you to straddle him, guides your arms around his neck. You can feel his gaze on you and you squirm but don't move.

"You're very nervous." He points out.

"You're," You feel like the Penacony will fall from underneath your feet "...touching me."

"You're so ruined already, over that?"

You nod. Of course you are. It's Sunday's body you're touching. He never allows you this much unless you've done something to please him greatly. Unless his mood is good. You're used to the silky cloth of his gloves even when he fucks you on his fingers, your cunt dripping onto his nice suit even when he's pleasuring you for hours. He reminds you of the miles between you doing that. A show of power.

So of course the sudden change in that distancing is alarming. Arousal keeps spiking every time you remember. It makes you feel stupid. You're touching his warm skin, seeing the sinew of his shoulders and the way he's built. His core soft and stable, everything dusted with rosy hues. He's slender and beautiful and elegant all over so of course you're wet between your legs, achy and unnerved by just how much your pussy seems to pine after his touch.

Your brain feels like it'll pour out of your ears, the words barely forming to speak.

"It's too much."

He doesn't say anything in reply. His fingers snake between your legs where you're stood on your knees - sliding down slick folds, tentative and amused. "You're so much wetter than usual," Then, with a breathlessness to his voice "Is it really making you feel this way to see me half naked?"

You lock eyes with him. You can't make yourself out in the reflection of his eyes but his face changes. It doesn't matter what you can see, because you know you look desperate. You can never hide how you feel from Sunday, but especially not like this. Vulnerable, you nod curtly - mouth fallen open.

"It's okay," He coos, which are not the words he normally chooses. He normally says that you'll be alright - which is different from this. Restlessness makes your skin prick. "Do you want to know why I'm in a bad mood?"

You nod.

"I thought of you running away," He says, which is typical. But it's too much for it to be just that so you wait. "Going back to your home planet to never return. It wasn't pleasant but I couldn't stop imagining it."

"...Was that really all?"

"Really all? Do you think there's something that would displease me more than that?"

"You really want me to stay with you." You say, less than ask.

"I treasure you," He murmurs, his voice is low. Cold, even - underneath layers of possession. "You are mine to treasure."

"Of course but," You want to look away from his eyes but you find that you cannot. "So much? Do you really?"

He smiles again. It doesn't reach his eyes. "More than you'll ever know." He reaches for your hand and holds them, smiles as you gasp. His lips brush along your knuckles. "So you'll trust me, won't you?"

"Yes. Whatever you want."

"Such dangerous words."

You don't ask he means by that. It wouldn't matter. Wouldn't make it any less true. The tight space that Sunday has carved for you is yours no matter how suffocating. It's yours and you would do so much to please him.

Sunday lets his fingers walk up the curve of your spine. You shiver, watching him. He's pleased somehow, and that's good you think. It's better than him being angry. His hand stops at the nape of your neck, cupping it and rubbing his thumb along your pulse.

"Let me in,"

You don't know what that means until you feel it. Two sensations press against you at the same time. Sunday's abilities - halovian and not. Your eyes close tight at the pressure in your skull, but Sunday's hand in the physical world soothes you. He's reaching you in two ways - two different ways. You know them now.

His powers feel different from his halovian abilities. His powers (or THEIR powers, you suppose) are piercing and needlepoint - never completely pleasant or intended to relieve. He uses them only occasion, and never for too long. The invocation is usually a test of some kind. Even as he mutters the words against your neck now, they illicit that kind of response. It makes your body pulsate. It's pain that only he can deliver and heal - pain that he gives to you, that is yours. It's not harsh enough to incapacitate.

But it's strong enough that the back of your teeth chatter. Your muscles pull, lurching forward to collapse in his arms. Like a hot iron searing your tongue - like a needle going through the softest part of it. Your first are closed into tightly as you allow him inside of your very being. Penetration that outweigh physical, violates you to the core and carves you out tenderly. You're awake and alive and ruined beyond whats mortal. It's not so intense usually. Allowing him to sink in the hollow blankness of your mind and dig his sharp claws into the soft matter. Jolts of electricity spatter along your insides - your mouth open with drool sliding down both end. HE is inside of you. HE intends to control you until he decides to stop.

You open your mouth to speak but the pressure is too strong. Another sensation follows you, then - just after you get used to the first. It's different. It's the gift he was born with, the pleasant throb of halovian telepathy.

You feel your jaw go slack at the overwhelming difference between pain. Complete, unyielding euphoria.

You moan. Your physical body reacts - your clit throbbing so hard it stings, making your entire lower body like it will melt off of you. With a shaky inhale, you feel the full breadth of Sunday's internal emotions. Possession and adoration knit themselves together and move like a caress over every inch of your body. Lightheaded from the pressure, your breathing strains.

There's not a single part of you Sunday is not touching intimately - fingers and palms and tongues. His physical hands, soft and placating rub your pussy and drive you to hysteria. His voice is whispering you words of comfort - to trust and hold on. His emotions twist and dominate yours and everything in you sings back in obedience. You want to cry. And you think you will after your adjusted enough to remember where you end and Sunday begins. If that ever happens. If it's possible experiencing the weight of this.

You're boneless underneath his touch. Your physical body and sensations reach heights far beyond and in true, utter desperation you call his name. You're not usually so spoiled but it's too much and you need him. "Sunday. Kiss me."

You can see yourself almost in third person. His laugh is smooth but breathy, as he lays you down on the mattress and leans over you. He kisses you as you've asked, long and deep - and doesn't pull away even as you lick desperately at his lips. Your nails are clenched into your hand, making them bleed.

He speaks to you clearly.

"You love me don't you?"

The words barely make it out of your mouth. Your heart is pounding. It's not like you can lie like this anyway, but you never would. "Yes. Yes, I love you."

He must feel it. Feels you as much as you feel him because he laughs near jovial and kisses you again. His soft lips slide against your shoulder, your collarbones. "Yes. I love you too. But you know that."

Yes. You do know. There's no way you couldn't.

Your entire body feels weak as Sunday lowers himself further and further. His mouth, warm and inviting - leaves open mouth kisses across the entire expanse of your body. Your nerves feel fried, like they're getting pulled like weeds and laid out.

You know what Sunday's mouth feels like well, but like this is too much. Too much to fast, your spine arches off the back of your bed as his breath ghosts over bare cunt. Gasping, you reach for the sheets behind you. No awareness of your surroundings can save you from it.

Ruthless as always, you feel his tongue slip against your folds and lose sight of the remaining threads of your consciousness. Sunday uses his abilities to stabilize you, says something about how you can't pass out yet. You whine at the back of throat but don't tell him to stop. He praises you for that with another long stripe against your clit.

Sunday is good at knowing your body. Pristine and precise to the point of being scary. He lays his tongue flat and latches himself on you, angular in leading you to your orgasm. Your body is so impossibly sensitive that he barely goes for a minute before you feel yourself shuddering in that familiar desperate way. His feelings come in a wave after that, a pink hue in your eyelids as he expresses his unending praise even after your incredibly premature orgasm.

"Sorry," You mutter, barely breathing as everything swirls inside of you. Your stomach flips. He puts his hand up to hold yours. "Didn't ask for permission."

He laughs at that, bright and pretty. He's pleased with you. You're practically vibrating from need. It's alright. You don't have to ask today."

"Are you...aah...sure?"

"Yes. It was polite of you to ask." He praises, and kisses the inside of your thigh. He licks your pussy again this time with deliberate slowness and you cry out his name. "You're so wet for me. So sweet. Should I use my hands at all or do you think you can take me as is, hm, my love?"

"Give it to me," You slur, unsure if you can hold out on it much longer. "Please, please, please."

"No need to beg. I do like to hear it though." He says, mostly to himself. He kisses you as another wave of sensation enraptures you and leave you limp. You feel it all again, strong to the point of feeling numb. Piercing pain followed by overwhelming, lovesick euphoria. Your body goes limp against the bed, fingers curling into the sheets.

Sunday coos at you. He guides your arms around his neck and guides your hands to his shoulders. "You can hurt me a little."

"Don't want to hurt you."

"I want you too," He says, and you think if you were sober enough it'd feel like a confession. "It's alright. You'll never be sharper than I can handle."

You whimper but concede, letting your nails dig into his flesh hard to keep yourself together. Sunday whispers praise against your neck as you go through the impossible motions of it. It's so much longer than he'd normally put you through his and your body is pushed to it's limits. You know that but he seems pleased with you. You want to please him.

"You're doing well." He praises, softer than ever. "A little more. Just a bit."

The world could be ending outside around you, but you would be completely clueless to it. The only thing, the only thought, the only consideration you can make towards Sunday. His adoration does not feel like the flicker of a candle, but like ball of light curling around itself. It is tight, and hot, and always at risk of exploding itself into something cosmic and unreachable. You wonder if it is possible to love too much, but tell yourself that isn't true.

Even as love makes a mess of you in the physical and metaphysical and all else. Even as it flays you open and guts you and licks you until you are all but hollow yearning, you don't think he loves you too much. You just think that he loves you. If Sunday is all the concentrated light in the universe, you are the eternal darkness meant to make him whole. Your love for him just as deep, like a void that never ends - certain, inevitable darkness.

Your tongue feels heave in your mouth as you kiss Sunday again. A lonesomeness comes every minute you spend apart, even brief. Sunday does not leave you alone for long.

Even as he prepares himself to feel you deeper, he whispers and talks to you. Placating praise leaves tears welling at the corners of your eyes but you nod and listen anyway. You wait for him.

"Take a deep breath." He tells you. He positions himself over you again - though you can barely see or understand as you open your eyes. You blink rapidly, trying to get a sense of his expression even as your mind is gripped at the corners and pulled taut at every edge. Color clouds your vision - hazy making your eyes glass over as you attempt to pry them open. Sunday appears before you like an Aeon in all their glory, beautiful and divine. You sniffle at the sight of him, whimpering at the sensation of his hands on your thighs.

"I love you," You whimper at the touch of his cool hands on your hot skin. "Love you,"

"I know," He says, sliding his cock along your folds with such unwavering affection it makes you gasp. The tip throbs along your clit, sticky with need and you whine. "Shh. I'm here."

You allow him whatever he wants. Your head feels full. Nodding, drunk and floating - you squeeze your eyes close as you feel the tip of Sunday's cock push through you. You wish you could see it better, though you've seen it before. Long and pretty, red tip and neat hair at the base. The sensation makes your tummy flutter, your hands up to his shoulders.

Your pussy weeps at the feeling of him finally entering you, something deep in your body begging for him. Your throat closes, eyes watering at the sensation of being so full as he starts to move. Slow but sure, not intended to pain you - restrained. Everything is full. Heart, body, mind - every inch of you harbors Sunday like he's made you in his image. Your lower half throbs and thrums, a euphoric outpour making your legs wrap around his waist. You don't want him to move. You want him to carve himself in you and stay forever.

Tears fall helplessly as he bottoms out. His waist is pretty, you think - as you see where his meets yours. You see his cock sheathed inside and your mouth drops open. Sunday grinds against you, hot as it touches your sweet spot. Never-ending in his chase to please you.

"Sunday," Your voice is hoarse as he moves his hands to rest between your bodies, thumb brushing along your clit. "I'll cum."

It's more than that. You think if you start, there's no way you're going to be able to stop. The thought frightens you almost. Sunday is quick to assure you.

"It's okay," He tells you, and keeps moving and touching to bring you to the very precipice without any mercy at all. "I know. Your body is mine and it's what I wanted. So," He glances up at you with as mile. "Give me what I ask of you."

Your lips form into a pout because you know you can't say no to that. You wonder why this is what he wants from you, but your brain is too scrambled to even try to deduce it.

Feeling an orgasm this way isn't something you've ever experienced in your life. You can't imagine you ever will again. That much pleasure and sensation, life-ruining - feels like falling through space with no assurance of when you'll crash. Just knowing it will come eventually. Your entire body lurches forward at the full sensation, bursting at the seams. Everything around you melts until you're left with nothing but hot white pleasure racketing along each of your exposed, frayed nerves. You fall away and into nothing. It feels so good you can't speak, can't think, can't do anything but let that nasty sob leave your lips in complete and utter ruin. You cry for Sunday - teary, snotty, pathetic, and you want to beg him for something though you aren't sure it's mercy.

He fucks you through it. The repetitive sensation of your body being fucked while you're lifeless makes your ears ring but Sunday fucks you anyway. Fucks you meaner than you though he was capable of, fucks you precise. Lets his cock fuck into you with such force your cunt is forced to remember him until death do you part. You can only feel Sunday. Every atom of you his, his his.

You spend so much time in that high, you barely know when it stops. Sunday fucks you to his own orgasm and you feel that inside of you too, which only makes you cry longer.

You know it's over when Sunday starts to pull away and you feel unimaginably hollow. Even though it was so hard on your body for the entire duration, you find yourself exhausted when you start to sober up and open your eyes. You see Sunday before closing them again. He is as beautiful as always.

__

You think you must pass out for a bit, because a breach of time comes where you see nothing but darkness. When you're awake - you're in a bath in the hotel bathroom.

Sunday has not left your side when you're awake again. He looks worried as he sits on the edge of the tub and waits for you.

The water is warm and comfortable. You are tired and very, very hungry. Sunday looks at you but doesn't realize you're awake even as you gaze at him. He seems sad and that saddens you.

"Sunday? Everything okay?"

His eyes open wide when he hears you speak. Your voice is barely there. He's still naked. You blink. "You're not wearing clothes."

He stares at you for a long, long time. And then, afterwards, his bare hand comes up to your cheek and cups your neck. He kisses you deeply, tenderly and it makes you sigh a little to feel. It's unusual. He laughs against your lips.

"I wanted to bathe with you," He says after a long while. You widen your eyes. "Is that okay?"

"Oh, uhm," You nod feeling self conscious. "That's fine."

"And," he holds your hand in the soapy water and lets his thumb smooth against your finger. "Let's eat together. After. Okay?"

You smile to yourself. "Uh-huh. Okay."

You love him you think. There's no such thing as too much. No matter how it would look to anyone else. You think Sunday loves you too. Enough to ruin you completely and put you back together again.

[luveline]

anything bombshell reader I would adore!!!

Oh my god, Spencer thinks desperately, could she give me a break? 

You waltz into the conference room wearing a smile (your smile, as heartbreakingly perfect as always) and a motorcycle jacket buttoned to the chin. There's something about it. Spencer doesn't know what it is, just that it makes you even more attractive than usual. He toys with the word sexy, and sure, you are when you want to be, but he thinks about it long and hard. You're a fucking bombshell, and you're going to kill him one day. 

“What's with the outfit?” Morgan asks immediately. 

“You can't wear that to the precinct,” Hotch says, though he sounds curious rather than annoyed. 

“You called us in unexpectedly,” you defend, holding up two perfect hands. Calluses from shooting practice line the palm of your dominant hand and you've a cut down the side of the other, and they're still perfect. Everything about you compliments everything else. “I was out.” 

“What, on your motorcycle?” JJ asks. 

“Your motorcycle?” Emily asks. 

“I didn't know you had a motorcycle,” Garcia says.

“You're ganging up on me. Spencer, honey, would you save me?” you ask, though the tone you use doesn't express much urgency as you unzip your thick jacket and toss it aside, its logos and sponsorships crumpling over the back of your chair. “You're the only one who looks pleased to see me.” 

“I am pleased to see you,” he says honestly. 

You don't make it to cases every time; you're on a different type of leasing, you always say. He doesn't have the subtlety to pretend he isn't happy you're here. You flirt with him, sure, and he enjoys it even while being out of his depths, but he likes you. You're fun and smart and good to be around. You listen. 

“They couldn't keep me away from you if they tried,” you say, head dipped gently to one side, smile far from teasing.. 

“Since when do you ride a motorcycle?” Emily asks. 

“If we could get back to the case at hand,” Hotch says, and for a moment everyone looks rightly chastised, until he adds, “we can discuss Y/N's choices afterwards.” 

What's worse than your jacket is the quickness of your brain, the connections you make, your endless suggestions. You're so good at your job it makes Spencer feel funny. Rossi, who'd been mostly silent during the exchange, sends Spencer a pitying look. 

When the case has been introduced and everyone sent to make preparations for another trip, you and Spencer remain in the conference room. You, because your go bag is already here and you don't have much to do, and Spencer, because you're here.

“Do you really have a motorcycle?” 

You tap your nose. “Need to know, babe.” 

“I sort of do need to know. If you have a motorcycle, I should probably be spending more time worrying about you.”

“Well, it's not mine.” 

He feels a crushing wave of rejection descend on him. “Right,” he says. He knew this would happen. He knew you were just being nice—

“I'm borrowing it from a friend. Mostly to see if I still knew how.” You put your chin in your hand, smiling knowingly. “Who's did you think it was, Dr. Reid?” 

“Don't do that,” he says. 

“Or what?” You ease up anyhow. “If you don't like being flirted with, Spence, I won't do it.” 

“I didn't say that, just don't– don't look at me like that.” 

You sigh morosely, but your dramatics are unconvincing, and a smile plays on your painted lips. “Alright, I won't. But it's how you were looking at me, you realise? How's that fair?” 

Spencer is about to say you know how, but do you really? Why is it fair for him to ogle you (albeit without meaning to) when you walk in, but when you make your soft googly eyes at him, he tells you to stop? Maybe because his are real, and yours are… questionable in authenticity. 

You're smart enough to see that debate before it forms. “I have less choice over it all than you think, you know?” you ask, softer than before. 

“I know,” he says. He doesn't, obviously, because the idea that you flirt with him accidentally is hard to accept, because who is Spencer to you? Your nerdy, socially clueless coworker who very clearly has a crush on you. Why would you like that? So he doesn't know about that, but he knows about having little choice in the manner; he sees you and he trips over himself trying to get you to see him. 

“I say it every time, but I've missed you, handsome. How have you been?” you ask. 

Spencer forgets the depth of his crush in the face of a friend. “I'm good, I've been reading all this Russian existentialist literature–” 

“Yeah? Anything good?” 

Spencer beams. “Actually, yeah. There's this one writer, you've probably read him already, Dostoevsky…”

[pearlzier]

︵︵ DAY THREE ﹐ MIRROR SEX ☆

ᰍִ ꒰ KINKTOBER. ִ✧ㅤㅤ masterlist.

WARNINGS .ᐣ mirror sex. pwp. dirty talk. kinda mean!dean. afab!reader. p in v. dean doesn't pull out, dean cums in reader LMFAO.

NOTES .ᐣ uhhh what do u guys think of the layout, do u like it??? :3 tried somethin new!!!

"Y'CAN KEEP WHININ' ALL Y'WANT, but i told you to keep your eyes on the mirror, didn't i?" you whine and whimper when you feel dean's thrusts come to a stop. he'd been pistoning his hips against yours roughly, bucking them against your ass as his cock slid in and out of you in a steady pace. he would've kept going, if only you could just follow instructions and keep looking at yourself. he wanted you to see how good he could wreck you, make you a fuzzy mess by the time he was done.

and he couldn't make that point if you weren't even looking at yourself, could he? "s'not that hard to listen to me," he mutters, scoffing at the fact being full made you incapable of thinking properly. you let out a pathetic sound as his hand slides over your shoulder to grasp your jaw, your lips parting instantly with the squeeze and flex of his fingers that follows. it draws your attention up to the mirror and your eyes meet his green ones through the glass.

you look like a mess, hair mussed from being grabbed and tugged on by his hands—your legs trembling from having to hold yourself up. you don't have to worry about that one for much longer however, he's practically holding you up with his other hand whilst the other grasps at your jaw. "but, it's embarrassing—" you try to protest, voice whiny and weak. dean's eyes only darken more at that, and a soft smirk finds its way onto his lips.

"embarassin'?" he tuts quietly, thumb tracing over your bottom lip before he pulls on it a little and tugs it down, his head tilting. leaning his head in closer, he murmurs, "could make this a lot more embarassin' for you, baby, so i'd listen if i were you." forcing your head up, he coos, "that's better, let me see those pretty eyes. that's it." he thinks you look perfect like this, a mess because of him.

you scoff quietly, bottom lip trembling a little. your cunt clenches around nothing needily, missing the feel of him inside you. "mmh, i'm looking now, happy?" dean hums behind you, biting back a full on grin knowing you can see him in the mirror now that you're looking up. he rolls his shoulders in a shrug, lining himself back up with your cunt and sliding back inside with relative ease. you take him with no resistance, having grown used to being stuffed full of him.

"real happy," dean murmurs with a little roll of his hips, dragging his cock down your walls before pushing back up again. he repeats this a little, feeling your arousal start to drip down the length of him. with how he's propped the mirror up and how he's got the two of you positioned, he can see the way the head of his cock breaches your hole when he pulls back only to be buried to the hilt when he thrusts forward again. "looks like i ain't the only one," he grunts, shifting a little closer so the back of your thighs are flush against the front of his own.

all you can think, hear, see, is dean. he's right behind you, his hands are on you. he'd moved his hand from your jaw to grasp at your hips, so he could gain the leverage he needed to pound into you. you would've closed your eyes and felt the pleasure if it wasn't for the fact he'd stop if you weren't looking. now, you have to focus on the way his biceps flex from the pressure of holding you up or listen to the way he grunts and growls with every rock of his body up into yours.

it's embarassing for you, the way you whine and make loud noises because his dick is ramming into you and making your legs tremble. with ease, his hand slips down to circle your clit. "actin' like you don't get off on lookin' like a whore," he murmurs quietly, seeing the way you immediately squeal at the touch. you can't deny the fact you're just as into his as he is. even if using a mirror was completely his idea, you'd loved it from the moment he'd even brought it up once. needless to say, you didn't need much convincing to be bent over like this.

even still, you don't want to admit it. because that'll give him serious satisfaction to know that you like this as much as he does. the embarassment isn't all that awful, if anything, it makes you clench around him and coat his shaft with your juices. "i do—don't," you mumble, despite the fact you're sure you're about to cum from his movements and touches to your clit. he's practically drilling into you, considering the fact you hadn't looked away from the mirror for a whole now.

"yeah? you don't?" he asks, brow furrowing. he knows full well you're lying, because one, you're a shit liar when it comes to dean, and two, he can call your bluff from how you've been whining his name this whole time.

he reaches a hand out, leaving the one on your clit to continue circling and applying pressure to the bundle of nerves whilst the other grasps at your hair to tilt your head down to look further down at yourself in the mirror. it's a mixture of mess on your thighs, his pre-cum having oozed down the inside of the flesh and mixed with your wetness. your eyes widen a little and once again, you clench around him making him groan. "thinkin' y'can lie to me," for that, he only picks up the brutal pace further, the sound of skin against skin getting louder and practically bouncing off the thin walls of the motel.

the people in the other room can most definitely hear the two of you, but neither of you could, or would actually care. both of you are so close, he's sure he only needs a couple more strokes inside you 'til he's painting your thighs white with his cum—and you're sure you only need a few more thrusts till you're making a mess on him. "dean, nngh, oh.." and besides, you'd been relatively good for him this entire time, you're sure he won't make you hold off on your climax like he usually does when you've been acting up.

he's panting as he speaks, "look at yourself, baby," his hand moving off your clit whilst the other moves from your head to grasp at your hips again and drag you back down on him to meet his thrusts. "c'mon, that's it, look at yourself. lookin' so pretty takin' my cock like that. so warm, could stay here forever," you know he's close from how he keeps talking, needs to focus his mind on anything other than how his body tenses with the impending release.

"feels so good, looks so good," his hum that follows your words is a self assured sound. he knows how good it feels, looks, he gets to see you like this everytime he fucks you. but he's glad you get to see just how pretty you are when you're on the verge of climax like this. so, so pretty, whimpering and begging for him to go harder and make you cum. "gonna.. fuck, gonna come," you stammer, unable to hold off any longer. "can i? ca—can.. please," dean can't help but smile when you ask for permission like that, and he nods.

"yeah, sweetheart, go on," his eyes shut for a moment, breaking a rule he'd set for you. but really, neither of you care at the moment. you're both far too distracted at the moment to be paying attention to whether rules are being followed. "want you to watch how you look when you gush on my dick though, can you do that for me? for me?" he asks, his own tone the faintest bit begging. dean doesn't whine, or beg, don't get him wrong, but to watch you watch yourself as you come around him would get him that little bit over the edge.

"mmh, yeah, yeah—shit, nnh, like that.. gonna.." you gasp, thighs trembling and shaking as you have to grasp at the mirror to steady yourself. quickly, your eyes dart upwards to the glass to watch yourself too and you let out the prettiest moan at the sight. so fucked out, so dishevelled and messy. it's a perfect look on you. dean knows it too, he's grunting and growling the moment you lock eyes with yourself and eventually his thrusts start to stutter and become uneven.

"come with me, dean, please," you don't have ask twice, he's burying his head by the crook of your neck and biting, muffling his sounds as he rocks his hips forward that little bit more and gets over the edge. a warmth floods you, both from your orgasm and his own, and you feel so warm, his cock pulsing as his cum oozes out and fills you. the two of you stay like that for a moment, and you finally get to close your eyes, feeling the bliss and pleasure.

you hear a quiet murmur of his voice muffled against your skin, and you shift a little, his softening length still inside of you. "i said," dean speaks up a little, "we gotta do that again," and he means it. god, he'd do it again and again just to see the way you reacted to seeing yourself ruined by him. honestly? he was ready to go again right now.

ִ ֹ ★ @blue-d, @gibson-g1rl , @stevelacylovebot, @psychicnatural , @funkycoloured, @lovesickgrlsrh0t, @soldierboycunt, @hrtsoldierboy, @beetlejenna, @venusiers , @v3nusasagrl , @imwetforyourmom, @pr3ttyf4wn, @pillwebb, @beridollie, @sl33pylilbunny , @sincerebabydoll, @angelicjackles, @deansbite, @beausling, @jasvtsc, @mattsdolll, @angelicp0etry, @cherrynflowergarden, @goofygooberspidey, @spookyysinsanity, @chrissdollie, @mgchaser, @yummycement, @gxldenlush, @morganwrites12672, @dayzeandhaze, @fallbhind, @jackleslvr. ꒱

[louiseolivier]

08x06 Delulu

Tevan are at the Italian restaurant. The Hot Waiter flirts with Buck. Buck's kinda oblivious. He unintentionally flirts back. Buck pays this time, and inside the folder with his card and receipt is Hot Waiter's phone number. Buck is a little weirded out because he feels like it's obvious he and Tommy are on a date.

For the most part, Tommy watches Buck and Hot Waiter's interaction in amusement. He jokes whether Buck is he's going to call him, and Buck is taken aback. Then Tommy gets serious.

"We haven't really talked about the kind of relationship you want."

Buck's confused. "What does that mean?"

"Just that there's more than one way to be in a relationship. I've been in a couple that were open."

"Open?"

"We were allowed to sleep with other people."

"I know what it means, Tommy. Is that what you want?"

"I want you to be happy. I want you to know I'm amenable to that if you're interested. Truth be told, Evan, the most important thing is that you're in my life, whether we’re together or not. 

Suddenly, the Ironside siren goes off in Buck’s head, and he’s spiraling.  

Tommy clasps his hand and looks at him like he’s the goddamn sun, moon, and stars. “Think about it. It’s not like it’s something you have to decide today.”

Cue Buck, going to Bobby. “I don’t know what to tell you, Buck, but I’ve seen you two together. I don’t think breaking up is something Tommy is even thinking about. The other stuff...you should talk to Tommy. Be upfront. Be honest. 

Cue Buck, going to Maddie. “Buck, he kissed you while you were still covered in boils. I saw that with my own eyes and wished I hadn’t. I don’t want to put words in his mouth, but he does seem very committed to you. And to be perfectly honest, the open relationship doesn’t sound like something he’d suggest out of thin air. Maybe you said something...”

“You’re blaming me? Come on, Maddie! You know damn well that’s not how I roll. I slept around, yeah, but not while I was in a relationship - and don’t you dare bring up Taylor! Besides, an agreed upon “open” means consensual. I just - how did I miss that this was something he was interested in? Why would he wait six months to bring it up?”

A sound of disgust emanates from the corner of the call center's breakroom, and the Buckley siblings' heads swivel to its location. Josh is sitting at a table, sipping his coffee and rolling his eyes. “You sweet naive baby bi.” He gets up from his chair, sidles up to Buck, and eyes the donuts he brought for Maddie. “I don’t suppose there's a Bavarian cream in there?”

“There’s a jelly,” Buck says. 

“But jellies are my favorite,” Maddie complains. 

“Too bad. I’m about to help your chaotic brother out, so I deserve it.” Josh bites into the donut and gives an appreciative moan. “Oh god, I haven’t had refined sugar in three days. How I missed you.”

“Back to me, please,” Buck says with a whine.

“Look, it’s pretty simple. There are only two types of guys who want to open up a relationship after the six-month mark. Assholes carrying multiple red flags or..”

“Tommy’s not an asshole,” Buck tells him firmly. 

“Considering he’d whittle a rocking chair if you asked him to, I’d agree. Buck, my guess is he’s scared. He's worried that if he doesn't give you a free pass, that you'll get bored with him and leave.”

“That’s so stupid,” Buck cries in dismay. 

Maddie lays a supportive hand on his bicep. 

“It is,” Josh agrees. “But just because your man is a solid L.A. nine doesn’t mean he’s not carrying around a lot of insecurities. Talk to him. Tell him. And hey, if it all blows up on you, send him my way. I’d love to be that man’s shoulder to cry on.”

Buck shows up at Tommy’s door. Tommy is supposed to come to his after finishing his laundry, but Buck doesn’t want to wait that long. “Hey,” Tommy greets him with that scrunchy smile Buck loves so much. 

“I don’t want to have sex with anyone else,” Buck tells him as he barges through the door. 

“Oh-kay,” Tommy says, closing the door behind Buck. 

“Do you want to have sex with other men?”

Tommy crosses his arms, and his head tilts towards the ground. “No. I’ve come to learn that’s not an ideal situation for me.”

Buck scoffs. “Then why suggest it?”

The buzzer on the washer goes off, and Tommy moves towards it to switch out the load. “I don’t know. I’m pretty used to you flirting with everyone.”

“You think I flirt?” 

“Evan, you told the waiter you liked his chinos while eyeing his ass. Most of the time, I think it’s cute how you rile people up without realizing it, but then I have a thought like, what if Hot Waiter would be a better match for you? So I panicked and threw out that suggestion.” 

“Jesus, Tommy. For the past six months, my brain has been consumed by nothing but you. Yet you think I can be swayed by some guy in a comfortable pair of pants? I only want you.”

“I know. I do. You prove that to me every day. I didn’t suggest it because I don’t trust you.” Tommy tosses one of Buck’s hoodies into the dryer and starts it. He can’t keep eye contact with Buck for more than a few seconds, and he looks paler than when Buck first arrived. Tommy’s also picking his middle fingernail with his thumb, and that’s Tommy’s tell that he’s feeling overwhelmed. “Uh, so like, I’m in this for the long haul. I think you’re it for me, Evan, and I don’t want you to ever feel like you’ve settled or...”

“I love you,” Buck tells him with a certainty he doesn’t think he felt even eight hours ago, but it’s the god’s honest truth. “Just seeing you makes me feel so full I could combust. ”

Tommy’s eyes are glossy and he blinks rapidly to keep the tears at bay. He finally locks eyes with Buck. “Loving you has been living in the back of my mind since...I honestly don’t know how long. I’ve been trying to temper my expectations because I haven’t been super successful in relationships. But then you started leaving clothes here, and suddenly you’ve infiltrated my life like no one else has been willing to. Next thing I know, I’m at a funeral for a long dead cowboy. I watched you embrace the memory of a forgotten man, and I realized I couldn’t love you more, Evan. Boils and all.”

Aaaaand that’s it. I’m tapped out.