#like the details that are planted in the show are so good

[foone]

would i regret asking wtf the human domestication guide is

Probably not. And people keep asking this so I might as well give the tl;dr answer:

Human Domestication Guide is a shared setting of kink stories involving Dommy-Mommy plant-aliens who want to keep humans as pets.

It's almost universally dubcon/noncon, the protagonists are nearly always trans girls, it's heavily wish fulfillment. There's drugs (space drugs! Like regular drugs, but better) and hypnosis and a lot of kink even if there's entire stories without any "sex".

It's weird but endlessly fascinating (at least to me!) setting. It zigs in a lot of places that most erotica zags, in part because it's got this heavy wish fulfillment angle where it's just "aliens show up and they give you everything you ever wanted and then you have kinky lesbian sex" but it's also unusual just for having the protagonists being mostly trans women (and I myself am mostly a trans woman).

Anyway if you're interested in learning more, the setting has a nice wiki, and a list of Foundational Works that's a good place to get started reading it. It's a surprisingly active fandom! It's only been around a couple years and it's got nearly a thousand works on Ao3.

Sometime later I'll make a longer post that goes into some more details, or I'll release that 5 hour video essay I keep threatening to make.

One final thing: 95% of all jokes about HDG are on the word "floret". That's what the plant aliens call their pets. It means "little flower" (which is very cute!) , but it's also the word for the little bits of broccoli that you eat. So it's RIPE for shitposting and memes.

[icarusthecryptid]

Keath's storytelling through their art is amazing.

Like, look at these characters, these concepts, these pictures. Every bit of media used to convey a story. It's honestly brilliant!

I've got so much to say about it so let me ramble about the Harkers today!

Each of these represent something, which is very neat. But the way each character is dressed, is designed, looks even, it tells you something! It's brilliant. The personalities out of clothing and designs.

The Storyteller, their entire design is a story. Every accessory, every detail, every layer. It tells you so much about them! The hat that covers eyes, which I think is a fun way to show how the past doesn't look forward. Uncovered mouth, because historically stories/legends/history was passed by word of mouth because most people couldn't read. Also most of the time it was through songs too! That's so cool. There's so much going on in the Storyteller's design and clothing, the feather accessories, the plants, the straws, the clothes and dress like attachments. The shoes! There's a million details, and each says something without actually saying anything at all. For a mysterious figure, I believe the storyteller has the most that's actually being told purely from a visual perspective. There is a mystery, but the past illuminates (get it? Storyteller has a lamp hehe). Visually, the Storyteller lives up to its name so well! This is a being you'd find at the side of the road, along the crowd, on a stage, to sing of a past, to tell a story. A forgettable but unforgettable being. Too many details that will overwhelm you with implications, too many stories, but not extravagant, still rooted in the past, the basics if you will. Straws are important here, fields, the outside, nature. Straws in the past have been used for so much, bedding, isolation, food for cattle, to soften places, and clothing like hats. Multi-purpose and helpful.

Okay, next the Storyteller's significant other, the Bell-Ringer or also known as Yarrow. Who represents the future! A goat like being who wears Bell's and expensive clothing. If the future is commonly associated with good fortune, this is exactly how it should be conveyed! Not too simple and not too extravagant, there's a lot of details, but they're still rich in its simplicity. Ruffles, straight lines, horns and branches. Bell-Ringer is tall (but not the tallest), imposing, regal, a crown of golden really. Stitched patches on their cheeks, which convey a doll-like being, even as a goat. Their eyes are unique, like all goats, horizontal. To me their eyes are a way to have a unique play on future insight. And the patches on the cheeks can convey that these are untold. Yarrow is colorful, bright, imposing and even knowing. A representation of the future in such a beautiful way. Bell's also!!! Bell's are so important, Bell's have been commonly used to announce big news, important events and presently more for the time. Ringing Bells on a street corner for news, ringing Bells to herd cattle, ringing Bells to celebrate. A bell for attention, now more to great people too. It's important here, and it can have a lot of implications. Does the bell ringing mean that something important happens where the Yarrow is? The future is the sound of bells.

The last two Harkers are a bit harder for me as I'm not super sure I have seen all their details. So I'm hoping I'm getting it right and not misinterpreting what I'm seeing.

Okay! Third, let's go with the Enkindled. The Enkindled is the shortest. Its name can mean several things, like set on fire or to inspire (emotions). With a tree like being that is messy, that is wooden but small, pretty simple and not too extravagant. I believe the Enkindled has the least amount of detailing, oh there's a lot of it don't get me wrong, but clothing and accessory wise, there isn't much. But it represents a tree like being, so that makes sense. The wood that branches is detailed enough. Trees are mesmerizing enough. A truly rooted figure that doesn't need much, but still can inspire. The smallest of things can give the most ideas. A single tree can tell a story, a forest tells more. Again, I still don't know much, but what I know is that there is heart in this being, contrary to what you glean from a first glance maybe. But trees have represented so much, like family trees. But also strength, individuality and expression, calmness, growth and the interconnectedness of everything. It's the heart of it, the beginning maybe. They represent order(?) and that's reflected in their design! Trees might look chaotic, but they're ordered in a way that makes sense. Branches serve a purpose, the way they form is the most ideal path for a tree. The order in which a tree grows, withers, lives or dies.

Lastly the Croon, the tallest and most imposing looking. It has feathers and matches the design of a bird, the skull is bird-like. It's body looks like a bird's. But that's not the only animal trait, moose antlers, a crown of spikes and claw-like hands. The Croon looks the most intimidating. And its name can be interpreted as a tone of voice, crooning, sentimental humming/singing/speaking. The croon represents entropy, entropy can mean the end or decay of things. With a skull representing their head I feel that that's really well conveyed. There's a chaos to their design, but it all makes sense still especially with the concept of entropy. Where things fall into disarray or decline. The Croon looks dosserayed.

I love the way that the Harkers are themed after story aspects. The Storyteller as a name tells a story, respecting the past as most stories are retellings. The Bell-Ringer, the future, every story has one, what comes after. The Enkindled, the heart, the idea of a story, that what motivates, but also the order of it, there is a way to tell a story that makes sense of the chaos within these events that are linked. The Croon represents entropy, the chaos in a story or the ending of it, the challenge or the struggle that simply is.

If I got anything wrong please don't get angry! I'm very much still learning about the lore and details, unfortunately my brain is far more focused towards details in art than all the smart stuff everyone else seems to get 😭 and please do correct me if I'm wrong on anything!

End of the day, I just really love the amount of attention and visual storytelling that was put into Yaelokre, the art was addmitably what got me so into this all. It was the first thing that really caught my attention. The songs and the story I love them too!

Thanks for reading :D (if you're still here) and I hope if anyone else wants to share their thoughts on designs and stuff they will! I can't wait to ramble about the lark too, but my brains too tired to talk any more so I'll leave this here for now :D

Have a doodle page as compensation for sitting through this!

[aangarchy]

Azula is not the most powerful firebender in atla

Now before you shoot me in the kneecaps for saying something so controversial, hear me out

Azula is a fantastic bender. She's a prodigy, learning at a very young age and being able to bend blue fire despite the extra effort it takes. She's mastered lightning at 14, a skill that's considered quite rare. She also uses her acrobatic skills she learned from Ty Lee to her advantage to make her even better, swifter, lighter on her feet, not needing to be steady in order to bend like other firebenders. BUT:

There are arguably two benders in the show better than her. Ozai and Iroh. Iroh isn't that hard to explain; he invented new skills by observing other bending forms, something that can only make someone more powerful. He is also able to spit fire from his mouth without being roided up from the comet (the only firebender we know of to do it w/o the comet's help). He's also a master lightning bender, and was able to keep more than a dozen Dai Li plus Azula at bay long enough for Katara to escape the crystal catacombs.

Ozai does not have a lot of screentime compared to Iroh and Azula. We only ever see him in flashbacks or sitting down on his little throne. We see him fight twice, once against Zuko and once against Aang. The fight with Aang he was roided up by the comet yes, but he still portrayed amazing skill. Lightning, propelling himself with only fire, spitting fire etc. But it's the earlier fight with Zuko where things get interesting. Ozai was able to tell when the eclipse ended by merely closing his eyes and focusing on the sun. He sensed it. Even Azula needed a cue to understand the eclipse was done: "oh sounds like firebending's back on!" Furthermore, Ozai immediately fired lightning at Zuko, and not only did he manage to do that without having to 'charge' first, he shot it out of both hands, which is something neither Azula nor Iroh can do (or at least we've never seen them do it, Azula has always had to charge her lightning and only uses one hand to shoot it, same for Iroh)

Honestly while Ozai has definitely looked like a chump in the show, I'm not sure Azula or Iroh could take him in a one v one. That might be one of the reasons his rule was never challenged, because nobody dared to take him on. I feel like the fandom underestimates him bc we only saw him fight twice and he lost both times (once bc Zuko's unknown skill took him by surprise and once bc Aang's avatar state eventually overpowered him).

[ineffable-gallimaufry]

sorry for seeing one negative thing about a thing i like an then being annoyed about it for the rest of my life it's just like that sometimes

[uygfiug]

putting in 3 times the required effort only to barely get a passing grade

[whateveriwant]

Task force 141 reacting to their very pregnant wife still trying to clean, cook etc

This turned more into ‘Task force 141 preventing their very pregnant wife from trying to clean, cook, etc’ lmaooooo I hope that's alright

Price

HA! Good one!

No seriously, it's actually hilarious that you think you'd do anything for yourself when your hubby's around

That man has been waiting on you hand and foot since you first got together. So now that you're pregnant and you think he'd let you so much as lift a finger? You must have a serious case of pregnancy brain, sweetheart

Price is doing all the cooking, the cleaning, the running errands, etc. throughout the entirety of your pregnancy (and at least the first several months postpartum)

He's kept you practically bed bound these last few months to the point where you think there's a perfect indent of your body molded into the mattress

Seven months in, he's suddenly called away to a quick mission halfway across the globe, and you think finally you'll get some of your autonomy back...

Well, think again because who should show up at your door the next morning than your mother-in-law herself, ready to pick up where her son left off

She came at the behest of your husband, of course, and was armed with a detailed set of care instructions

What does your husband think you are? Some sort of one-of-a-kind, priceless artifact that needs special handling? (Actually that's exactly what you are. Price-less… I'll see myself out 🚶🏻‍♀️)

Ghost

When it comes to having some semblance of independence during your pregnancy, Ghost will give you a bit of a longer leash than Price, but only just so

You’re going for a walk around the neighborhood? Hold on, let him grab his coat to join you. Or you're going into the backyard to tend the garden? He'll pull the weeds while you water the plants

But when it comes to letting you do certain things, there are some hard nos that he will absolutely not budge on

You try to use a stepladder to reach the top of the cupboard? Stop! You'll break your neck! You try to pick up anything heavier than 10 pounds? Stop! Give it here! You try to drive?... Don't even fuckin' think about it, precious.

The farther along your pregnancy progresses, the better he gets at predicting (and intercepting) your next move

You were gonna do laundry today? Well, wouldn't you know, he's already got a load going in the washer. You were about to make dinner? Well shucks, he just ordered takeaway from that Greek place you love

His ability to read your mind is honestly impressive once you get past how damn annoying you find it. Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you're incapable of fending for yourself, and you're tired of him acting as if otherwise

But really, you can never get mad at anything he does for you. After all, what kind of a husband would he be if he didn't take care of his missus and your little one?

Soap

If you take Ghost’s cautiousness, mix it with Price’s thoroughness, and crank it up to an 11, you get Soap

From the moment he found out you were pregnant, he put your house into full lockdown mode, stopping just short of booby trapping the front door in case you got any funny ideas

You want some fresh air? Just open a window. You want to go for a walk and stretch your legs? Just take a few turns about the living room like you're some Austenian heroine

Don't let him catch you doing any kind of physical labor, because so help him Jesus he will grab a spray bottle and use it like you're a feral alleycat he's trying to house-train (he wouldn't really... but don't test him)

You try to unload the dishwasher? Ehrr! Wrong move. You try to remake the bed? Ehrr! Nice try. You try to mop up your own mess. Ehrr! Enough already. You try to– OCH, WOULD YE BLOODY SIT DOWN, WOMAN?!

For nine long months during his requested leave from work, your husband is attached to you like some kind of loving, smothering barnacle

But doesn't he miss his job, or the lads for that matter? What if the world needs saving? What will they do without him?

Well, (in his exact words) fuck the rest of the world! You're his world, bonnie, and he'll give you everything you could ever wish for and then some

Gaz

By far, you have the most independence with Gaz than you would with any of the other three men… at least, at the beginning of your pregnancy, that is

Once you get to around five or six months he becomes just as helicopter-y as all the others; he's just ever so slightly more bearable, perhaps

There's lots of peeking his head around the corner to check on you throughout the day or appearing seemingly out of thin air whenever you're doing something he'd rather you wouldn't

You've lost count of the number of times you've been in the middle of cooking or hanging up the laundry or whatever and his hand has suddenly appeared out of nowhere, gently taking the object from you before directing you to sit and rest

And like, look. He knows you can handle yourself. He knows you could conquer the whole world if you wanted to. That's one of the things he loves about you the most

But seeing you like this – so fragile, so vulnerable, so beautiful and soft and pregnant with his child; his child – it just… It makes him…

He just needs to do these things for you, alright, love? Just let him take care of you, please? Would you let him do that?

You already have so much you have to carry. Let him ease some of the burden off your shoulders. Let him do these small things for you because they don't even compare to all that you're doing for him 🥲

[nishiyako]

After A Long Day (NSFW)

Paring : Kenji Sato x Reader

Tags : Doggy style, Vaginal penetration, Make outs, praise , after care, Fluffy ending, Reader has some type of long hair, established Relationship, Kenji has some sort of complex.

Summary : After a long day of work, Kenji comes home to his lovely girlfriend with a surprise, merch she got of his jersey. Seeing his name and player number on you does wonders to his already inflated ego.

Kenji Sato was everywhere, his face and name of hundreds of billboards and products, it dose something to someone's ego.

He loved the support from fans, the attention from media but most importantly, he loved coming home from a long day of interviews, events, and partiess to you.

Simple and lovable you.

He parked his bike outside before entering his mansion, placing his helmet and keys on the dinner table before seeing you sitting in the living room on your phone while the TV was running.

He made his way over to you, your eyes looked up from your phone screen to see him suddenlt infront of you, you can't lie that you got a little startled but you were more happy he was back before it got too late,

He bends down and plants a soft kiss on your forehead, tucking a stray strand of hair away from your face in the process. He sits beside you as he unzips his biker jacket, "whatcha' watching?" He asks, wondering what's got you so focused this late at night, throwing his jacket to the end of the couch promising himself he'll clean it up later, throwing his arm around your shoulder, pulling himself closer.

"It's a tie between the TV and my phone if I'm being honest" you giggled placing your phone down, you met his loving gaze, placing your hand on his chest, softly kissing his cheek "how was your day sweetheart?" You asked softly, almost as a way of apologizing on you being so voided.

"Good, busy as always." He said like he was waiting for that question all day, meeting your hand on his chest, moving it, holding it while it rests on his lap "Well, it was mostly interviews and shooting for promotions for the team, after that we had a few drinks."

You listened intently as he got into the details of his day, complaining mostly. Giving your thoughts and opinions whenever he asked.

"That's about it. What did you do the whole day?" He asked after wrapping up his day, "Nothing really, just watched TV and cleaned up here a bit, " you said plainly before you stood up from the couch.

"Something I ordered came in the mail though," you said with a smile on your face. "Yeah? What is it?" He asked, as your smile peaked his intrest.

You took his hand, pulling him over to the bedroom, perverted thoughts alredy entering his mind, thinking you probably ordered some slutty liengre and wanted to show him.

You sat him down on the bed as you escaped into the bathroom, asking him to wait for a moment as you closed the door.

As soon as that door shuts he alredy started imagining what you're gonna walk out wearing, probably wearing something tight and strapy, an idiotic smile alredy appearing on his lips from picturing you in something that small.

But he remembered you weren't the type to get something like that, maybe a new dress? Something light for summer. His past thoughts still lingering no matter how cute the dress would be, imagining just lifting it over your hips and fucking you dumb.

His hands covered his red tinted face from just imagening it, sexual frustration just from you keeping him in suspense, "Ken? You ready?" Your voice through the door snapping him back to reality "Huh? Yeah, yeah." He said, a slight stutter from his voice.

You creecked the door open, as he took a deep breath, he opened his eyes.

You wore an oversized jearsy with his team's name on it, it looked simple enough, He thought it was cute, swing you show support for his team, practicly his second family.

Until you turned around, moving your hair to the side and there he saw it, a big 7 and his last name on your back.

You couldn't miss it either, it was right there, black bold lettering on the thin white fabric. You walked closer to him as his eyes were fixated on the way it hugged your body and how your thighs were peaking of out of the fabric just bearly.

Straddling his lap as he still couldn't find the strength to move a muscle, until he did.

His shaky hand going under the jersey, rubbing your bare hip, as you kissed him, your hands running through his hair as his hands creeped up your thigh looking for some panties to pull down, truely a perfect way to end his day he thought.

A giggle exits your mouth as he pulled away from the kiss, a puzzled look on his face before he felt you push him down on the bed snapping him back to attention suddenly, your mouth alredy leaving marks on his neck eagerly, seeming like the both of you werent even on the same wavelength.

"You arnt gonna find something down there, I'm not wearing anything" you whisper nonchalantly before continuing to attack his neck with kisses and love bites.

Basically hinting the fact that you're weren't wearing panties.

"You planned this didn't you" he breathed out

Is eyebrows widen in suprise, he takes a mintue sinking it it before accepting his fate before he layed back with stupid smirk, enjoying the free hickies while he undid his jeans.

In a few minutes you found yourself under him, the jersey just slightly above your midriff, his eyes widened. Holy shit, you really weren't wearing anything under that.

His signiture grin on his face as he pulled down his jeans just above his thighs, he swore he saw hearts in your eyes when you felt him press against you.

He had a feeling you've been pent up for a while, he was just too busy to do anything about it, until now ofcourse.

You felt him pick you up and made you lay on your stomach, pulling your hips right against him, feeling him throb in-between your legs, so close yet so far from where you realy wanted it, you felt his hand grip onto the flesh of your hips.

He leaned down, closing the distance between you two, his chest right against your back and his lips millimeters away from your ear "Feel that? All for you babe." He said in a husky tone, right against your ear, a grin on his lips after hearing a whine come out of your mouth hearing those words.

Your body jolted, feeling something familiar prod inside you, His mouth still right against your ear, not changing a single thing. you heard his breath hitch everytime he gets deeper.

Your body shivered from the feeling, you've missed this. You've both missed this.

He held your hands over your head, pressing them against the bed sheets as he gently bucked his hips, moving carefully feeling how tight you were around him yet taking him so well.

He was taking it in, fucking his perfect girlfriend, having her perfect voice loud enough to echo around the house, thanking his perfect self he got a place far from anyone else.

He got to have you, all to himself, after a long work day, wearing a jersey with his name on it.

With his name on it.

He let's go of your hands remembering something, one of them holding you by your hips, rutting in and out of you while the other one tucks your hair to the side of your shoulder, revealing the back design of his last name and player number on your back.

Shit, he felt so egotistical and narcissistic but this was better than any kind of liengre or sundress you could ever buy.

Looked like a scene from a wet dream he could've had.

You felt him pick up the pace, started moving aimlessly yet his tip kept rubbing the perfect spongey spot inside you. Your voice started raising, getting louder than it always was, not like you could say anything from your fucked out state.

His muscles started to tense, getting lost into he feeling of being inside you, spitting out praise.

"You're doing great baby," or "you look so fucking good for me." He'd coo, with just saying how much he loves you, and parts of you like how your hair was a mess, how perfect it looked when his cock would disappear inside you, or just worshiping your ass.

And most importantly that desperate arch on your back, only making it easier for him to hit that sweet spot over and over again.

The room being filled with the sound of moans, skin slapping against skin and the creaking of the bedframe. Laser focused on the overwhelming feeling of your walls around him, fluids dripping down your thigh, staining the bed sheets.

"Fuckk, Kenji, Kenji!" you cried out, making him stutter in his thrusts, hearing his name escape your lips a few times.

Hundreds, thousands, even millions of fans have cried out his name but nothing was quite like that one.

He kept going, this time with quicker, more feverish thrusts making you start to babbel words, "Whyd you stop?" He teased "cmon, who do you belong to?" He said, a sinister laugh following his remark.

"You" you breathed out still being thrusted in and out to, "names baby, I'm gonna need names." He said in a faux pity tone, you didn't even have to turn around to know he had the biggest, dumbest smile on his face right now.

You melted in his grip, you moaned his name again with more passion, feeding that ego of his. Knowing only he was the one making you feel like this, the leg trembling, spot hitting, eye watering kind of sex.

With his player number and last name on your back, he was thinking of finnishing inside and starting a family alredy, making you really his.

But that would be a bit too much to baby trap you, he knew you weren't going anywhere.

Seeing his last name on your back just drove him crazy, sining in the thought that one place, one day, that's gonna be yours too.

He wakes up from his baby fever trance to your voice "Fuck, Kenji... I'm so fucking close" you curse out, your hand meeting his, his other one continually making you bounce against him.

His spare hand layers over yours, holding it against the bedsheets, as he closes the distance once more, his lips right against hers, "Go on, you've earned it." He says before buying his face into the crook of your neck.

At that moment, you started seeing stars

He feels your walls tightening around him and you moan out his name for the final time. Seeing your body tense up and legs shake for him was something he would never forget the feeling of, knowing how good he made you feel never gets old.

His thrusts slow down as you come down from your high. He pulls out stroking his shaft a few times to the view of your fucked out body, using the white opaque liquid as lube, spilling his warm seed onto your curves, some hitting the new jersey by accident.

"Shit, you might want to wash it now." He laughed, you were too tired to make a comment on him alredy cumming on your new jersey.

Minutes pass, maybe around an hour. You see your loving boyfriend bring you your favorite tea "still sore?" He asked, "just a bit.." you reply back.

Now in a new pair of clothes and him snuggling up to you in bed, turning on the TV and putting on both your favorite series.

Truley, the perfect way to end both your days.

●●●

A/N : Haven't posted in a hot minute, I know. Sorry to my followers, I know this is something new, but I swear the bnha fics r coming, there somewhere in my files 😭

A/N : Those who've read in in the first 13 hours actually pointed out there was a typo, so thank you for that <3. I'll try to spell check more diligently since I mostly only write late at night <33

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye

Word Count: 4.7k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, noncon, dubcon, drugging, kidnapping, tw vomit, sharp objects, forced breeding, forced pregnancy, drugged reader, stalking, pet names like kitten, sweetie, ownership, Xavier appears for a bit

AN: Hi all! Im SOO excited to be writing this. Its refreshing to add to the lack of yandere fics for the boys! I’m unsure if I will make this multi chaptered but if there’s enough demand I won’t want to disappoint! PLEASE read the tags. This is not for everyone, and if your sensitive to the topics that show up then I would advise skipping this story because I did not hold back and it only gets worse from here! (*^ ‿ <*)♡

"Good girl, keep chewing. Don't bite your tongue" All you could mutter was a moan, unable to think straight in your drug hazed state. You managed to swallow. All you felt was warm heat radiating off of slightly pale flesh. You blushed and planted your face in his neck. Sylus put the spoon down, amused by your affection. Getting up from the sofa in the room, he laid you down on his bed. He began unbuckling his belt.

Read part 2, pt 3

When you finally stirred, the first sensation was a throbbing ache in your head, a dull, insistent pulse that seemed to echo through your entire body. Your eyelids felt heavy, as if weighed down by sand, but slowly, you forced them open. The room around you was dimly lit, unfamiliar, and smelled oddly of...alcohol? Shadows clung to the corners, obscuring details, but you could make out the rough texture of black walls and the faint scent bourbon.

Wait...black walls? Your walls were white...

Panic fluttered in your chest as you struggled to remember how you had ended up here, a place so alien that even the faintest memory refused to surface. The soft, yet unfamiliar mattress beneath you sunk with your weight you attempted to sit up quickly, a wave of dizziness threatening to pull you back into the darkness.

"Wha-where…?" you murmured, your voice barely a whisper as your vision remained clouded and unfocused. With a sense of rising unease, you stretched out your hand, groping blindly at the unfamiliar space around you. Timid fingers met the unmistakable feel of cold flesh and you flinched.

Then the flesh spoke.

"Handsy already? I'm a bit shocked" a gruff voice spoke, sounding on the verge of laughter.

You screamed, your hunter training kicking in as you scrambled to leap off the bed and away from the unfamiliar man laying next to you. Your attempt to put distance between the two of you was in vain though, as he quickly yet calmy subdued you. Your world whipped around as you were manhandled beneath a tall and broad man, both of his hands pinning your arms to your sides. You cry obscenities as you squirm under him, tears beginning to pour down your face as you try to figure out the best way to talk-no fight your way out of this.

"Wait...who are you?! Please stop, I'll do anything just let me go!" you screamed, attempting to land another kick at his stomach. This time however, he was prepared. A cold red mist snaked around your leg, freezing it in midair, only to then wrap it firmly in place to the other leg.

"Shh shh, calm down. No need to yell sweetie" he said calmly, as if he was comforting a lost animal. He ran a long cold finger over your face, wiping away a section of tears as you hyperventilate.

"You're safe now. No one and nothing is going to hurt you anymore"

What the fuck is going on?!

You can hardly process his words, much less your own thoughts. Although slightly panicking still, being in your current position gave you a very great view of the mans face above you. He had stern features, a sharp jawline, white hair with grey undertones. But most unnerving of all were his eyes. They were blood red, piercing even. You felt yourself shivering under his gaze.

Is he some kind of monster??

"I-im not supposed to be here sir. I think there's been some kind of mistake or-" you trail off, unsure of what you were going to say next. Clearly there's been some sort of mix up? Sure, you had plenty of people that wanted to kidnap you for your Aether core, but you highly doubt they would be wiping your tears in such a lovingly way as he was doing right now.

"I don't tend to make mistakes sweetie" he calmly replied, cocking his head to the side and giving a slight smile. "I know this is all very sudden, but just trust that you're safe here. Where you belong..."

"Where I-what???" you gasp, breathless at the strange mans words. You attempt to struggle again but to no avail, he has you trapped. Bubbling panic and nausea rise to your core, and you begin to dry heave.

"Im gonna vomit..." you exclaim dizzily, turning your gaze away from the man. He wastes no time getting off of you and helping you up, gently guiding your shaking figure in an unfamiliar direction. Its only when your feet meet cold tile that you realize that not only are you not wearing shoes or socks, but that you're in a huge black tiled bathroom.

However you have no time to take in the details as your eyes meet the sight of a toilet. As if on cue your body does one last dry heave before bile makes its way to your throat. You practically throw yourself onto the toilet mere seconds before your stomachs contents upheaves itself out of your mouth. You clutch it and empty the bitter contents into the toilet for a few short moments, giving a sigh of relief as you finish. With tear stained eyes, you realize your captor hadn't left your side, instead having taken the liberty to rub your back.

"Unfortunately the side affects of the drug couldn't be avoided" he muttered, a slight look of guilt washing over his face. "Come lay back down, you should rest"

"Don't touch me!" you growled, elbowing him in the face as you scrambled to get on your feet to run. He was quick to grab your waist, causing you to tumble down to the floor again with force. Your knees hit the tile and you wince in agony as sharp throbs of pain explode in your knees.

"Ah ah, none of that" the man scolded, quickly lifting your squirming body off the ground with ease. You clawed and kicked at his figure but he barely reacted as he dragged you out of the bathroom and back into what could only be assumed to be his bedroom. Despite your incessant thrashing you were placed on the bed again, sobbing and whining at your dismay.

You lay there dumbfounded, out of breath while he stood there seemingly unaffected. He reaches out a hand towards you, earning a yelp from your throat as you coiled away from him. He ignores this however, placing a few fingers against your forehead. Was he...checking your temp?

"I'll get you an icepack, you're burning up"

It was only a second that he had turned away before you once again leaped out of bed (successfully this time), and dashed for the bedroom door that was slightly ajar. Your eyes lay onto the metal handle and you reach for it, only to be swept off your feet in an instant. A familiar cold red mist envelops your entire body, leaving you weightless in the air. You screamed at the sudden shift in your body's gravity as your captor stood there with his arms crossed.

"I didn't realize you were such a feisty one, kitten" he chuckled. Helplessly your dragged closer and closer until your planted right into his arms. He envelops you, red mist disappearing and instead being replaced by a tight hold on your body. He moves a hand to the back of your head, hushing your tired sobs as he holds your body.

"No need to be running off, you're sick sweetie" his previous smug tone replaced with a gentle one. "Lay down, I won't ask again"

He said this without malice and yet, the hair on your neck stands up. Maybe it was the sudden shift in energy in the room, but all you could do was slowly nod in his embrace. Perhaps, it was better this way. You get the feeling that you shouldn't keep testing him. Yes, when the right moment struck, you could make a run for it?

Right?

He releases his hold on you, and with watchful eyes he guides you to lay down. As you lay on the soft comforter, sobs begin erupting from your mouth once more. What does he want? What is this place?

You want to go home.

"Please sir..hic..,I want to...hic...go home..."you cry, defeatedly sighing in the pillow. It smelled sharp, like men's cologne.

"You can drop the formalities" he sighs, pulling the comforter over your shivering body. "It's Sylus, sweetie."

Sylus.

Why did it sound so unfamiliar yet a creeping sense of familiarity was tingling in your head?

"I have work. I cant miss wor-"

"Im aware of your duties in Linkon. But fret not, you won't have to worry about being the Hunter Association's lacky any longer" he hummed, reaching down to stroke a few strands of your hair. You didn't react to his touch this time, your mind too busy pondering his words, frightfully imagining scenarios of actually being trapped here with him. You pinched yourself hard, desperately hoping to wake up from this nightmare.

Reality.

It was hitting you hard and fast.

Sylus wasn't exactly the type of man to have time to have relationships. His life was far too fast and demanding. And even if he did have the time, no doubt that as soon as word got out that he had someone he cared about, they would be snatched and held for ransom, probably killed in the process. So he had resigned himself to this life full of nonstop head swiveling and danger. The only people he could ever trust with absolute certainty was his henchmen, Luke and Kieran.

Ah, Mephisto as well. Though he was his own creation. Why wouldn't he be able to trust him? He was skillfully programmed, the bird couldn't tell a lie even if he tried. But despite having his own man mad companion (Mephisto hated being called a pet) Sylus still felt a certain longing. Even someone as cold and hardened as him couldn't escape it. He actually hadn't given it much thought until he was grazing through Mephisto's footage one day.

A man that had sold him a subpar protocore was hiding from him. Sylus had known from the start but sometimes he liked to play little games with his prey. He wanted to see if the man actually had the guts to lie to the leader of Onychinus. And lo and behold. Sylus could barely hold back a grin when shaking the man's hand to seal the deal, who was wistfully unaware of the torment to come his way in the next few days.

He would pay back the "stolen" money in blood.

So while he had Mephisto tracking the mans every move, eyeing his every turn and twist. He had happened to catch a glimpse of a girl his victim had bumped into by accident in Linkon. She was extremely apologetic, helping pick up the scattered belongings he had dropped. Sylus leaned in close, trying to get a better look at the woman. She scrambled the belongings in her arms and sheepishly handed the stuff back to the glaring man, who had not even said a word to her. It wasn't until she smiled sheepishly at him that Sylus froze.

This feeling.

He couldn't exactly place it but it was foreign. But what he did know how to do, was gather information. He quickly directed Mephisto to follow his new "target".

He would deal with that man later. This girl, this random, insignificant girl had caught his attention. And he would figure out why. He was very good at problem solving. This issue would be over soon. She was just another average Linkon citizen after all, she couldn't be that interesting. He would get bored soon.

He watched as the man spat vulgarities at her, quickly rushing past her as soon as his belongings were returned. She gave a defeated sigh as she continued walking. He noted the uniform she was wearing, the puzzle pieces clicking in his head she approached a tall window filled building.

"A hunter?" he questioned, leaning forward a bit to see the screen better. "Mephisto, zoom in please".

Doing as the bird was told, he zoomed in on the woman, her badge coming into clear view. Just as he thought, she was part of the infamous Hunter's Association. It didn't take long to pull the name from her badge and pull up every single piece of information he could find in the "deep web" database.

Relatively new to the association but already on one of the best divisions. Impressive. Maybe she was no "ordinary" girl after all. Since he couldn't send Mephisto into the building, he entertained himself reading up on her, finding out everything he could find about her. Medical records, previous addresses, socials, etc.

Mephisto signaled to him that she had left the building and he promptly turned his attention to his camera again. She walked out with a slightly bubbly, shorter haired girl. The pair were deeply engrossed in conversation before an ashy blonde fellow joined them and touched the girls arm.

Sylus froze. Who was this? And why was he touching her with such ease and tenderness? Mephisto, as if reading his mind, zoomed in. The man was only a bit taller than her, and a somewhat leanish build. Sylus watched him interact with the girl intensely, he wasn't sure why but he felt the hairs on his neck stand stiffen when the man made contact. His blue gaze was soft and inviting and she seemed to be reciprocating well.

Sylus watched as they both bid farewell to the other short haired girl, making their way towards the subway station. They were both going in the same direction?

This was once confirmed once they both got off at the same stop, walking the same path towards a set of shiny apartment buildings. She laughed at something the man said, and touched his shoulder tenderly.

Sylus felt his stomach churn. He wasn't sure why but seeing her this close to this soft gazed man was eliciting dangerous urges in him. The pair both went up the stairs, and out of his view.

It didn't matter. He would find your apartment number with ease. Even if it meant having Mephisto perched on the same tree branch for days. Sylus questioned his sanity for just a bit. Was he really getting this worked up over a woman he had simply happened to glance at? He closed his eyes before chuckling.

Yeah. This wasn't normal, no. But nothing about Sylus was ever normal anyways. Why would this be any different?

And so the following weeks were spent on nothing but you. He'd eventually mustered the courage to see you in person (at a distance of course) and watch you a few feet away. Your voice was even more beautiful in person. And the sounds you would make when trying new sweets illicited very...intense reactions in his lower groin. He watched you and your female coworker eating sweets at a bakery. You moaned in delight as you chewed a frosting covered pastry, a bit of the white frosting dribbling down your chin. You and your friend giggled as you wiped it up, all the while Sylus felt like he was about to burst in public.

How could a scene so innocent get him going so much?

"Oh! I have to go! I have a hair appointment! Bye Tara!"

You hurriedly hugged the girl before licking your fingers and sprinting off. Sylus quickly and quietly followed behind.

Eventually, he would find his way into your apartment when he knew you were out on missions. Not to do anything creepy, but to get a more personal look into your life. That didn't stop him rummaging through your clothes however. Your taste was just what he was expecting based on your socials. He would take mental note of it before putting everything back the way it was. It was taking a toll on him. The more he spent thinking about you and peeking through your things, the more he longed for you.

There was no way he could court you in the traditional way though. It was far too dangerous. The second word went around that he had someone special, someone with an Aether Core at that...it would be over. His love would be killed, or worse, kidnapped and taken. Tortured more than likely.

The fact that you even had one made him fall even more quickly in love. You both were clearly meant to be. Two halves yet to be connected. Was this fate? Or mere delusion? He didn't care anymore. He would have you, even if it took drastic measure. You would have to remain oblivious to all of this, to him until the time was right.

That's what he thought until, you had seen him lurking behind you in the grocery store. He had adverted his gaze but it was far too late. He had gotten too close. You approached him, making his heart rate excel. Still, he kept a calm gaze.

"Are you following me?" you spat, eyeing him up and down. He simply laughed, which caught you off guard.

"I'm merely going in the same direction" he calmly said, rubbing his fingers together. "I guess that's all it takes to catch a stalking charge these days?"

You blinked a few times before sheepishly smiling. "Ah, I'm sorry...I'm a bit jumpy these days..." you laughed and extended your hand before introducing yourself.

I already know your name. He wanted to say but he stopped himself.

"Sylus" he quickly said, shaking your hand back. Your touch felt like fire in the freezer department of the grocery store.

He was in heaven. Him, someone who was far from human and closer to the devil himself was experiencing bliss. He wasn't even sure why he told you his real name. Maybe a part of him wanted you to know and accept the real him.

"Well Mr. Stalker, I have to be off. Have a good day, sorry again" you sheepishly joked, bowing a bit before grabbing your cart to leave. He almost reached out and grabbed you, longing for you not to leave.

Soon, he thought. He just needed a little longer for some preparations first. Soundproofing, a little,more security, tools...etc.

But once again, it seems that time wasn't on his side. One night while keeping Mephisto at a distance to watch your apartment, you and the ashy blonde boy had walked down the stairs together and stopped to chat. Immediately on edge, he ordered Mephisto to zoom in.

"Xavier shouldn't you be asleep at this time? Why are we getting food at a time like this?"

"I didn't get to eat today. Besides, I know you didn't either. Makes sense to go together right?" he said, a slight smile appearing on his face. Sylus felt that eerily similar feeling of disgust settle in his stomach.

"Yes but...what were you wanting to tell me? Certainly you don't have to drag me all the way out to a convivence store to do so right?" you giggled, fixing the zipper on your jacket.

"Just two stops. Food, and then the park. Then I'll tell you. Deal?"

"So mysterious as always..." you sighed, a small smile appearing.

Sylus was no idiot. He knew what this was. A ploy to get the girl to a secluded place and do god knows what. He clenched his hand in a fist, a glare washing over his gaze. It was time. Whether he wanted it to be or not.

"Luke, Kieran" he called out, standing up to put his own coat on. "Prepare those items I requested."

Now or nothing.

And that's how you ended up here. After your little rendezvous with Xavier, you had giddy come back to your apartment like a teenager in love. That's when the twins had ambushed you, forcing two little white pills down your throat much to your dismay. They (carefully) by Sylus's instruction, had taken your phone and other belongings to make it look like you had packed up and left. No one, not even Xavier had an inkling that unconscious you was being loading into a black car and whisked away to the N109 Zone.

And here you are now, thrashing, screaming insults and vulgar names in his bed. Nearly a week had passed and you still hadn't calmed down. You wouldn't eat either, refusing any and all attempts at food. When you were exhausted from screaming and thrashing, you would wake up sometimes as early as 7 am and attempt to open windows and the door much to Sylus's dismay.

You were like a scared cat in a corner, hissing and swiping her claws when she got the chance. And its not like Sylus hadn't tried to tame you. He certainly had been trying to comfort you, hold you and even spoon feed you himself.

All you would do is scream and hit him. Beg for freedom, beg for release. It hurt him. He could give you anything and you were begging for the one thing he couldn't afford to give you.

Freedom.

You started to shrink in your clothes naturally. Sure you would take a few bites here and there to satiate the primal need for food but it wasn't enough. You grew weaker and weaker and he couldn't take it anymore.

He started sneaking Rohypnol into your water. A date rape drug, yes but it was so effective. You went from a defiant and screaming girl to a giggly and obedient kitten for him. He'd spoon feed you while you sat dissociating in his lap.

"Good girl, keep chewing. Don't bite your tongue"

All you could mutter was a moan, unable to think straight in your drug hazed state. You managed to swallow. All you felt was warm heat radiating off of slightly pale flesh. You blushed and planted your face in his neck.

Sylus put the spoon down, amused by your affection. Getting up from the sofa in the room, he laid you down on his bed.

He began unbuckling his belt.

There was one more effect of the drug that was the most important to him. It wasn't considered a date rape drug for nothing. It rendered you completely helpless to his advances. You wouldn't fight him, just blush and moan when he touched you. When he pushed his long dexterous fingers in your pulsing cunt, you would squeal and whine. When he inevitably would climb on top of you, pushing his cock inside your tight walls, you would grab him already nearing a climax.

He wasn't a monster. Or at least that's what he was telling himself. He wasn't doing this for pleasure but with purpose. He looked down at your pleasure stricken face, listening to your mewls as if it were a choir singing. He pushed himself deeper in you, overcome with insatiable lust. His pace only kept getting more rigorous as he neared his end.

He wanted a baby.

He wanted a baby in your womb.

His baby.

He craved normalcy. Even if it meant things had to be a little rough right now, but this was for your own good. You'd be so happy and obedient with his seed planted in your womb. A baby growing, tits swelling, stomach so big you can't see your own feet. That's what he wanted for you. For the both of you.

He gripped your waist as he plunged himself into you for the final time, white hot seed painting your insides a creamy white. You writhed underneath him, clearly coming to your own end. Your walls tightened over his still hard cock and he groaned.

He can't let you leave the bed until your pregnant.

It wasn't working though. Almost daily pregnancy tests yielded no results. You were starting to wise up to his antics it seems as well. He had been cleaning you up well so you were none the wiser when you slept off your drug hazed state. But you were smarter than you looked.

"Can I have bottled water?"

Sylus freezes, the half full glass in his hand. "Why? I'm holding a glass right here"

"The tap water tastes weird..." You lied, forcing a grin. "I want bottled water now". Sylus rubbed his fingers to his forehead and sighed.

"I can guarantee the tap water here is the purest you can find, it shouldn't taste weird"

You both made eye contact and you glared at him. Something was off with that water. The way he was so insistent for you to drink it made you nervous. And the way you couldn't remember a lot of your nights here was off. An aching feeling between your legs and a headache was all that remained. You had a feeling and it wasn't good.

"No thanks" you said plainly. "You've probably put something in it to kill me"

Sylus couldn't help but scoff. This girl and her ridiculousness.

"Why would I go through all the trouble of bringing you here just to kill you? Don't be ridiculous sweetie" he laughed, pushing the glass further into her face.

"Drink it".

"No".

Sylus's gaze darkened. He was a man of patience yes, but this girl just kept testing and testing. Who gave her the right? He does everything for her and yet she wont even drink a glass of water? He let out an uneven sigh, his patience fading.

"Kitten, last time I'm asking" he warned, pushing the glass in her face once more.

"I said..." she starts, taking the glass from his hand much to his relief. But the look in her face changes to contempt to angry, and in one fluid motion she's flung the glass in his direction. He dodges it, but not by much. Water clings to his shirt and glass shatters on the floor.

"Don't call me that" she finishes, a smug look adorning her face. She's won. Or so she thought. Sylus flashes a quick angry glare before quickly going back to an expressionless state.

?

"Maybe I've been too nice to you" Sylus says plainly, his words bleeding obvious malice. You freeze, realizing you weren't going to get away with an outburst today.

"Wait...Im sorry" you say shakily, beginning to lean down to pick up the glass. "I'll clean it up Im so so-"

He grabs your arm and yanks you roughly back to your feet. You scream, the birth control implant bulging to the surface in your arm where he grabbed.

"Don't bother" he growls.

"Ow! My birth control!" you scream, tugging at his hand. He freezes, a confused look washing over him. He lets go of his grip and examines your arm, poking around it. Sure enough, a hard line appeared on the girls arm. It all made sense now. Of course his seed wasn't taking.

"You didn't tell me about this. No wonder it wasn't working" he muttered.

"What? What wasn't working???" you exclaim, trying to yank your arm away. He held on though, staring intently at your implant. You can't tell what he was thinking and it was making you nervous.

"This needs to come out"

"No no no no" you shiver, pleading with him. "Its fine! Its probably expiring soon anyways I think!". Barely processing the fact that Sylus desires you to carry his child, you fear for your life and body.

Sylus doesn't respond, instead looking up to meet your eyes. As he stared at your scared expression he sighed. You had been making things very difficult for him. He just wanted to love you, spoil you, fuck you full of his cum.

All you had to do was sit around looking pretty and bare his children and you would have everything you could ever wish for. Was that so hard? Now there was this obstacle and it was ruining everything.

He saw red. He knew what needed to be done.

"S-sylus?"

He calmly looked down at the floor of scattered glass and settled on the biggest piece. Your eyes widened in horror and you tried with every ounce of strength possible to get out of his grip.

"Sylus!!! Please!! I can get it removed! Don't-"

Your cries are muffled by some kind of cloth he produced from his pocket as he backs you against the bed. You fall back first against the plush mattress, but before you can get any footing to get back up his on top of you. Your muffled screams can be heard despite the cloth as his evol snakes to hold you and your arm firmly in place.

He leans down over your petrified form, examining the piece of glass in his hands. After giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. He takes the sharp tip of the glass and press it slightly but firmly underneath the skin where your implant lies.

"Im doing this for us. Be still sweetie"

You scream.

He cuts.

[wordsarelife]

—endgame

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: mattheo is absolutely in love with you, but now it seems like he spent a bit too long not telling you that

warnings: cursing, suggestive language

notes: guys this was not supposed to be posted lmaooo!! but i‘ll just leave it here, now that it’s too late anyway 😭

the slytherin boys were lazily slumped over the couches in the common room, casually chattering as the fire burned in front of them.

"and then she asked me to show her how to fly sometime" enzo shrugged as he finished his explanation "i mean she was there when we learned that in first year, so i'm not sure why i would have to show her"

"you oblivious little idiot" blaise slapped a pillow against enzo's head, who let out a whimper at the sudden hit.

"she was flirting with you" draco exclaimed with a roll of his eyes and without even looking up from the newspaper he was reading.

"oh" enzo said dumbfounded.

"she knows that you're crazy about quidditch" theo added.

"yeah" mattheo agreed "she probably wanted to flatter you, telling you how good you are at flying and you didn't even understand that"

"oh" enzo mumbled once again and the regret in his voice made his friends perk up.

draco let the newspaper rest in his lap. "what did you answer?" he asked, quirking a brow.

"the exact same thing i just told you guys" enzo admitted shamefully, which was accompanied by blaise and mattheo loudly groaning.

"you really are an oblivious idiot" draco shook his head in a disappointed manner, before going back to his newspaper.

before enzo could say anything else to defend himself, there were giggles coming from the stairs. blaise and mattheo looked behind the couch simultaneously.

"speaking of oblivious" blaise snorted, before he earned himself a slap from mattheo and a simple hand gesture that told him to get off the couch and find another place to plant his arse.

blaise was barely on his feet, emptying the spot next to mattheo, when pansy and you stepped into the common room.

"hey guys" pansy greeted before she let herself fall in between draco and enzo, half onto draco's lap, which the former only grunted at.

you smiled your usual smile, waving at you friends, before you walked around the couch on which mattheo was sitting. you held up the book you were carrying to him and mattheo immediately got into position.

he turned his body, so that his legs were now resting on the couch before him. he opened them up so you could slip between them, laying your head onto his tummy, as you opened your book and got comfortable.

mattheo softly started moving his fingers through your hair. theo, on the armchair on the left of both of you, raised his eyebrows. even draco lowered his newspaper for a second, to inspect your cuddly position.

"so, y/n" theo said "why don't you tell us something about your date with that seventh year ravenclaw?"

now it was mattheo's turn to furrow his brows. theo looked perfectly innocent, but mattheo recognized a hint of mischief in his blue eyes. blaise giggled into his fist like he had just witnissed the biggest burn and enzo looked between both theo and mattheo, wondering if the former was even allowed to ask such a question.

"oh" you smiled awkwardly, as you let your book sink onto your chest. "you mean leslie?"

theo nodded and watched mattheo's expression closely, who's face was full of disdain.

"go on" pansy smiled "you can tell them" she started giggling and you joined her laughter.

it was like a switch had been flipped as both you and pansy recalled the day a week before. you did not leave out one detail, from how the boy had asked you out to how the actual date went.

mattheo was not happy to hear what you had to say (or how pansy couldn't stop mentioning how handsome and attractive leslie was), but he had to admit that it was kind of funny to see theo's face fall more from minute to minute and how much regret was evident on it when you ended the story after half an hour.

it seemed like the only person who enjoyed listening was enzo, who spend most of his time asking about certain things you had said and if you had meant them in a flirting or normal way. mattheo had to admit to himself that it was probably his and the rest of the boys' fault that enzo outstretched the story with his unnecessary questions. it seemed like he wanted to make sure that nothing what happened the day before would repeat itself.

"was that everything you wanted to know?" you asked theo, admittedly a bit amused, as you noticed the panicked look on his face and the quick nod he was giving you.

"why didn't you tell me you had a date?" mattheo asked you and you almost broke your neck as you tried to look at him without sitting up.

"sorry, i didn't think it was that important" you shrugged "and i never thought that you wanted to hear anything about it, but now that i know that you guys are interested in that kind of conversation, we can speak about stuff like that more often"

it was only after pansy and you had excused yourself to go to bed, that there was a debrief happening in mattheo's and theo's room.

mattheo was walking from side to side, as the earlier events replayed themselves in his head.

"pansy and y/n are yappers" blaise noted matter of factly "and now you've actually gotten them to yap even more"

"thank you, theo" draco added sarcastically, while theo just shrugged his shoulders.

"i didn't know it would spiral into that" he excused "i was just trying to get someone to get off of his arse and talk to a certain someone, considering something between the two of them"

"it doesn't help anyone if you're talking in riddles" enzo rolled his eyes, before he got ellbowed by blaise, who pointed at the still walking mattheo. "oh" enzo nodded "you're talking about mattheo and—"

"what kind of name is leslie anyway?" mattheo cried, succesfully shutting enzo up.

"i mean have you seen the guy?" blaise laughed "his name should be the least of your concerns"

"thank you, blaise" mattheo nodded, spotting a sarcastic smile "very helpful actually"

"listen, mate" theo said and all eyes turned to him "i'm not saying you should just be happy about what's happened, but it's a bit your own fault"

"my own fault?" mattheo repeated stunned.

"he's not wrong" draco shrugged "if you had the balls to go and speak to y/n, we wouldn't even be talking about a guy who obviously has a girl's name"

"i mean i get alex, but what is unisex about leslie?" enzo looked between his friends, who all shrugged.

"can we stop mentioning his fucking name, please" mattheo threw up his hands helplessly.

"well, would you rather like to talk about his huge—"

"blaise!" both mattheo and theo called loudly.

blaise raised his arms, spotting a face of innocence "geez, chill i was talking about his arms. i mean the guy is jacked"

"yeah, we get the picture" mattheo rolled his eyes, before he changed the tone of his voice, trying to imitate pansy and you from earlier "he's so good looking and funny and—"

"he's read almost every book y/n has" enzo added and all of the boys looked at him.

"whose side are you on?" theo asked tiredly, rubbing his face and realizing in that second that he was not going to sleep any time soon.

"sorry, pansy's words, not mine"

"okay, well" mattheo exclaimed, his anger subsiding momentarily "what if i'm not that handsome or well-read? i always listen to her talk about her latest book, and i don't just act like i want to hear it, i really do and i could be such a better boyfriend than this lola guy"

"leslie" blaise corrected and immediately received a dirty look from mattheo.

"look, mate" draco interrupted the staring contest between blaise and mattheo. "whatever it is that has been going on between you and y/n, we've all had the pleasure to observe it this past few years. so i'm sure we're all are at a point now where we are just fucking tired. i'm begging you, just do something about this please" draco was more emotional than he had been in years and all his friends were surprised at the sudden concern for mattheo's and y/n's love life "for the love of god, i cannot bear to try and extend any friendly behaviour further than this group, so it would be kind of unfortunate for y/n's boyfriend if he isn't already part of it"

"well, aren't you just a ball of sunshine?" theo rolled his eyes.

"it's not easy being nice to all of you" draco send a side-eye in enzo's direction "even harder with certain people"

"hey!" enzo losely protested.

"i don't really care who she dates at this point" draco added "hell, let's give her blaise, at least he's not too restrained to actually do something"

"i'm not restrained" mattheo said with distain evident in his voice.

blaise smiled smugly, completely ignoring his friend. "i would show y/n a good time"

"what the fuck?!" mattheo turned to blaise with a look of betrayal "i'd rather have lucy--"

"leslie"

"--have her before you do" mattheo finished.

"this is really not the point now is it?" enzo asked, with a helpless look in theo's direction.

"enzo's right, as weird as that sounds" theo nodded "you have to do something and you have to do it fast, before she's losing the least bit of liking she seemingly has for you"

"i really have to thank you guys for your deep and honest trust in me and my abilities"

"well you've practically spend the last six years simping for her, so excuse us if we're not quite seeing the end of that yet" draco snorted.

"yeah, fine, whatever" mattheo rolled his eyes "even though all of you were wrong in many things, you're right about y/n, i'll tell her first thing tomorrow"

"tell her what exactly?"

"ehh, that i'm in love with her" mattheo said as if it was obvious.

"a bit rushed isn't it?" enzo asked, exchanging a look with draco, who seemed just as critical.

"what?" mattheo asked helplessly "wasn't that what you all wanted? i mean lilly certainly didn't waste any time"

"leslie" blaise corrected once again "asked her out on a date first. maybe you could really learn something from him. i hear he's quite smart"

"are you gay?" draco suddenly asked and enzo snorted.

"i'm a realist" blaise answered "i like to scout out the competition, see what they've got on me"

"okay, sure, then i'll ask her on a date and tell her that i love her then. is that alright with you?"

"you should at least wait two to three months" draco advised.

"maybe four" enzo added.

"oh, heaven, i'm going to sleep" theo turned around and climbed into his bed.

the next morning, the slytherin boys were sitting in their usual spots at the slytherin table. there had been no sighting of either pansy or you yet, so mattheo had decided to ask you on a date during breakfast.

"what do you think is taking them so long?" he asked draco, while keeping a close eye to the entryway of the great hall.

draco, who was only a second away from answering, was quickly interrupted, when he got nudged by theo, who pointed at something - or rather someone - at the ravenclaw table.

"what?" mattheo turned his head, after draco had not answered and his friends seemed to have noticed something.

"they're already here" draco said softly, before both of his hands, landed on mattheo's shoulders, turning the boy's body in the right direction.

mattheo's eyes found you quickly. you were sitting next to an unfamiliar boy, pansy across from the both of you. you were engaged in a seemingly friendly conversation, throwing your head back laughing from time to time.

"lydia" mattheo said between clenched teeth his voice close to a growl.

"leslie" blaise corrected, matching the sound and tone of mattheo's voice.

mattheo stood up abruptly and all eyes followed him. "i'm gonna do something about this" he declared, before he started walking into the direction of the ravenclaw table.

"i think he could need some backup" blaise shrugged his shoulders, running after the boy, before one of the others could protest.

"hey" mattheo greeted when he arrived at the table. pansy furrowed her brows, but you smiled when your eyes fell on him, not noticing the angry tone in his voice.

"hey" leslie smiled. "mattheo, is it?"

"sure" mattheo sat down on the bench next to pansy without so much as another word.

"so, luna" mattheo began.

"ehh, my name is leslie actually" the older boy corrected.

"whatever" mattheo rolled his eyes "nobody cares about that"

"i do" blaise quickly corrected, coming to a halt behind mattheo and outstretching his hand in leslie's direction "blaise zabini, big fan. what kind of book would you recommend to get girls?"

"i'm not sure i understand that question" leslie looked to you in confusion, but you just shook your head. "but, uh many girls like pride and prejudice by jane austen"

"ignore him" mattheo advised "you seem like you have everything in order, so i think it's the right time to ask what your intentions with y/n are"

"excuse me?" leslie asked stunned, while pansy snorted loudly. blaise nodded approvingly and you had your mouth and eyes wide open, not believing what you had just heard.

"well, young man" mattheo patted leslie's shoulder "we've all been your age once, so i don't think the question is too farfetched"

"i'm actually older than you" the ravenclaw looked to you helpingly "sorry, is he your brother or something?"

various different answers of no echoed around the table, followed by disgusted noises as pansy, mattheo, blaise and you answered the question at the same time.

"then why are you even asking that question?"

"well, lane" mattheo started, before he quickly added (successfully preventing someone to correct him) "y/n doesn't have a brother and her father is not here right now, so someone has to look out for her, right?"

"pretty sexist" pansy remarked "these aren't the 1800's, riddle"

mattheo shot pansy a quick glare before refocusing on leslie, determined to make his point. "look, i'm just trying to make sure you're treating her right," he stated, with an edge of jealousy in his voice.

leslie glanced at you, clearly bewildered. "i promise, y/n and i are just friends. we were talking about our shared interest in ancient runes."

"sure, just friends" blaise mumbled so only mattheo could hear.

"shared interest, huh?" mattheo leaned back, trying to appear nonchalant but failing miserably. "is that what you call it these days?"

you couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity of the situation. "mattheo, relax. leslie's just being friendly."

blaise, sensing the awkward tension, decided to stir the pot a bit more. "yeah, mattheo, maybe you should take some lessons from leslie on how to charm a girl with ancient runes. it's clearly working."

mattheo shot blaise a look that could melt steel. "blaise, could you stop being helpful for once?"

blaise, feigning innocence, raised his arms.

mattheo, deciding he had seen enough, concluded it was time to pull out the big guns. "so have you kissed yet? because i have done that. kissed y/n i mean, not kissed someone in general"

"matty!" you scolded, feeling embarassed by his behaviour.

"no, we haven't actually" leslie shook his head, uncomfortably looking between the people around him.

"well, we've done a lot of things" mattheo continued, easily slipping back into the familiar cockiness he normally wore with pride, even if you had hit his leg under the table more than a few times already. "you should ask her about her first time" he muttered, winking at the older boy.

pansy, who had been drinking, accidentally spit some of her pumpkin juice on her plate and blaise's mouth was wide open.

"mattheo" you shrieked, quickly stubbling onto your feet "could i talk to you for a second? alone"

"whatever you want, love" mattheo winked at leslie once again, before he followed you out of the hall.

"so about ancient runes"

outside of the great hall, mattheo was standing across from you, head down, while you were ripping him a new one.

"what has gotten into you, matty?" you asked when you had finished screaming at him.

"i'm sorry" mattheo said truthfully "i had this great plan of asking you out this morning, but seeing you with him made me so jealous and realize that it's probably too late anyway, but it's my own fault."

"what are you even talking about?" you asked confused.

"i mean you're obviously going on a second date, right?" mattheo asked "you very clearly said how charming and handsome and smart he was"

"that's true, he is all of those things"

"cool" mattheo nodded and you swore you could see a hint of sadness in his eyes "i'm happy for you then"

"yeah seems like it" you giggled, before you shook your head "well, matty you knows, leslie is amazing--"

"i've never heard anyone been complimented so much than i have heard him in the last twenty hours"

"let me finish" you smiled "he's really great, but i'm not interested in him like that"

"you're not?"

you shook your head "i think we could become good friends, but nothing more"

"but why were you sitting with him then?"

"well, he had a book he wanted to lend me" you shrugged "and i was actually on my way back to our table when you interrupted"

"oh"

"yeah, oh" you smiled "if i had known you would take all of this so harshly, i would've told you about me telling leslie i'm not interested yesterday"

"okay, that's embarrassing" mattheo admitted "i should've spoken to you in private, before i made such a scene"

"yeah, you should have" you nodded. "so, are you going to ask me out?"

mattheo grinned at you, before he grabbed your hip, pulling you closer with one fast gesture, connecting your lips.

you pulled him close by the hem of his shirt. your fingers curling into the fabric as you deepened the kiss. his hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, pressing you firmly against him. The world around you seemed to blur, the only thing that mattered was the feeling of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body against yours.

his other hand moved up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. the kiss was both passionate and tender, a perfect blend of his usual confidence and a softer side he reserved just for you. you could feel the intensity of his feelings, the months—years, even—of pent-up emotions pouring out in this single, breathtaking moment.

your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel his racing too. it was as if all the teasing, all the uncertainty, had culminated in this moment. his lips were soft yet demanding, and you responded eagerly, your fingers now moving to tangle in his hair.

you both were breathless when you broke the kiss, heavy breathing quickly turning into laughing about how both of you had acted like idiots.

"we should get pansy and blaise and return to the others, right?" you asked and mattheo nodded eagerly.

"but you'll go out with me, yeah?"

"i think we're already past that" you joked, hinting at the years of longing gazes and physical affection between the both of you. "but sure"

you walked back into the hall holding hands, while blaise and pansy were already waiting for you.

"what happened to layla?" mattheo asked, trying to catch sight of the boy on the ravenclaw table.

"leslie—"

"—left, after blaise had gone a bit too far, asking for flirting advice"

"oh god" you hid your face in your hand "i can take you guys nowhere"

"well, you've got enough friends already, haven't you?" mattheo nudged your shoulder, as pansy's eyes fell on your connected hands.

"took you long enough" she smiled, before all of you walked into the direction of the slytherin table.

as you approached, the group noticed your intertwined hands. draco, theo, and enzo exchanged knowing glances.

"finally," theo remarked, leaning back in his seat. "i was starting to think you'd never figure it out“

draco smirked, lowering his newspaper. "i suppose this means i don’t have to pretend to be friendly to more people than absolutely necessary now"

"i think we're all just relieved we don’t have to hear more about leslie and his 'charms'" enzo grinned.

"speaking of which," draco said, looking at you and mattheo, "how did that go?"

"oh, you know“ you replied with a smirk "mattheo decided to mark his territory in the most subtle way possible“

"well, at least he's more direct than other people" theo almost giggled "i just have to imagine enzo recalling and telling holly anything he could remember from our flying classes"

"i'm sorry that i genuinely thought she wanted to know that"

"when these two can get it together, you'll get there too some day" pansy nudged enzo's shoulder and the boy send her a grateful smile.

"who needs enemies when you have friends like this" mattheo laughed with a roll of his eyes.

blaise chuckled, leaning back in his chair. " hey, at least we keep each other entertained"

enzo grinned, shooting a playful glare at blaise. "yeah, and who else would i have to embarrass myself in front of if not for you lot?"

draco raised an eyebrow at that "well, enzo, it's a good thing you have us to keep you humble“

theo nodded, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "exactly. otherwise, you might start thinking you're actually good at flying"

"now this is just unfair, you're telling me she was not only flirting, but lying too?" enzo exclaimed frustrated.

"you can't always have everything" blaise shrugged, taking a look at the vacant spot leslie had left at the ravenclaw table "at least that way there are still girls left for the rest of us"

"you do realize that y/n is not really left anymore, right?" theo ellbowed the other boy.

"well, y/n" blaise smirked "i'm sure mattheo has never even seen a copy of jane austens pride and prejudice, but guess who read it, you're right this lovely—"

"oh hell no" mattheo quickly shook his head, as he clasped a hand over blaise's mouth. "don't you even start, bethany"

[sluts4matt]

SQUEEZE

pairing: rough!dom matt x latina!reader

summary: not only had you been teasing him all day while he was trying to work, when he finally did give you attention all you gave him back was attitude and sass and matt was having none of it.

warnings: SMUT, shits fucking ROUGH, making out, degradation, orgasm denial, slight bondage, dumbification, overstimulation, pet names, fingering, oral (male receiving), light smacking, p in v, choking, spanking

word count: 2162

author's note: this is based off of squeeze by ghostmane because the songs just so 🥰.

matt had been working all day, leaving you bored and alone. you'd tried your best to keep your mind occupied, but your favorite tv shows didn't entertain you for as long as they normally did and nothing seemed to be interesting enough for you to do for the rest of the day.

with a sigh you looked next to you, staring at the mirror on the bathroom door on the side of matt's bed. an idea popped into your head, your lips turning into a mischeveous grin.

you planted your feet on the hard wood ground, making your way to the drawer you had that occupied the boys dresser. you grabbed the blue set out of it, going into his bathroom to change into it.

you put the bra on, looking at yourself in the mirror. the laced cups fit you well, pushing your breast up nicely and showing them off perfectly.

the bottoms were a little different. the front had lace flowers sewn onto the fabric, the upper part having a little bow. while the back was a simple blue string. you looked at your figure, your hips and ass looking good in the set.

you left the bathroom, positioning yourself on matt's bed before aiming your phone at the mirror. you snapped a picture, your eyes running over it as you analyzed every detail of it. with a satisfied hum, you sent it to the boy.

to flipped the view on the camera to selfie mode, raising your phone up to angle it down at your breast. the lace on the top made them look so much better, the bra holding them nicely. you took a picture, sending it to him.

you let out a small giggle when you see him open the first picture, a smile planted on your lips as the three dots appear. 'not funny my love, i'm with nick and chris,' you gave a small pout, even though he couldn't see.

'i'm bored' you replied, putting your phone down on his bedside table. you let out a huff, getting off the bed to go back into the bathroom.

"this is boring." you mumbled, stripping out of the lingerie and throwing it on the counter. you pulled the previous sweater you were wearing back on. the green fabric hanging off your body loosely, looking more like a dress then a sweater.

the black dinosars stood out nicely, and you smiled at the item on your body. it wasn't yours, well not technically. but as matt said, what is his is yours.

a few hours had passed and you were laying under the brown silk covers of matt's bed. your eyes were closed as the sounds of the tv filled the room. the door clicked, creaking open as matt peaked his head in.

"miss me?" he asks, shutting the door behind him. you don't respond, upset about the fact that you had been at his house, alone, all day. matt rolled his eyes, "i asked you a question love," he said, kneeling on the bed beside you.

"nope," you say, popping the 'p'. you sit up, turning your body to plant your feet against the ground. you stand up to begin walking out when your shoved against the wall with a soft hand around your neck.

the cold metal of his rings making you gasp, "you done?" a small whine threatens to leave your mouth, but you hold it back, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. "being a brat earlier and then giving me attitude just now calls for punishment," matt says, his voice low and deep.

his hands make quick work of tying your wrist together, one of your nearby black scarfs being wrapped around them. "on the bed," he commands, and you follow.

the sheets were warm from you being on them, the soft fabric rubbing against the bare skin on your legs. you were pulled closer to the edge of the bed, matt's fingers slipping in the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down.

without warning he landed a smack to your ass, a gasp leaving your mouth as your body jolted forward. he brought his hand back up to land another blow to your other cheek. he didn't give you a break, his hands continuously smacking the plump flesh.

tears threatened to fall as your mouth fell agape, the pain and pleasure mixing together. his hand left the sore skin, the red marks visible even on your tan complexion.

his hand landed a few more rough smacks before roughly kneading he flesh in his hand, making you wince from the skin being pinched by his rings.

you heard him let out a low growl before his fingers trailed between your folds, your wetness evident. "you like that baby?" he asks, his voice mocking. "you like me hurting you? you're so fucking pathetic," he spat, his words only making you soak his fingers more.

you whimper, nodding your head the best you could. his other hand reached up to grab your hair, tugging your head back, making your back go against his chest, as he shoved two of his fingers inside you.

your mouth fell agape, the stretch stinging, yet the pleasure overtaking it. his fingers fucked you, curling and hitting the right spot each time. the coil in your stomach was about to burst, and you knew if you were to cum without his permission, you'd be in deep shit.

"fuck, matt," you breathe, earning a low chuckle, "already?" he mocks, scissoring his fingers inside you, "you're so easy for me, aren't you baby? just my little plaything," he growls into your ear, his lips trailing down your shoulder, sucking the skin between his teeth.

"mhm, fuck," you whine, "just you," you breathe. a smile grows on his face as his hand pulls out of you, making your legs shake as he does. he grabs your hips, pulling you up. he turns your around, his hand going to your head as he pushes you back down, your knees hitting the floor.

your eyes widen, feeling the bulge in his pants against your cheek. his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your head back, "you know what to do," he says, his free hand pushing the grey fabric of his sweats down his legs.

his hard cock springs up, the tip a deep red as a small drop of pre-cum drips down. your lips wrap around his head, taking the length down your throat. he lets out a low groan, his head falling back as you bob your head.

his hand on your head pushes you down further, "come on baby, know you can take more," he breathes, your throat constricting as you take more. a low groan leaves his lips, "just like that," he says, the sound of his praise sending waves to your core.

his hips thrust on their own accord, pushing in and out of your mouth as his hand continues its movements on your head. his cock hits the back of your throat, making your eyes tear up. you try to pull away, but his hand holds you down, making you take him all.

his breathing quickens, the grip on your hair tightening, "so good, so fucking good," he growls, you hum around him, making him let out a whimper. his eyes squeeze shut; his jaw clenched. his body tenses, a low moan leaving his mouth as his load spills down your throat.

he lets out a shaky breath, his hand untangling from your hair. "so good," he breathed, tugging you up. his hand comes across your cheek, unexpectedly, but softly. his hand grabs your jaw, squeezing it. "i'm gonna ruin you princess," he growled.

he tugged his shirt over his head, throwing it to the side. he swiftly untied the scarf around your wrist, pushing you back against the bed. your back hit the sheets, the air leaving your lungs. he hovered over you, his head dipping into the crook of your neck.

his teeth bit down on the skin harshly, piercing the flesh with his teeth. "you bored now? hmm?" he asked, his hot breath against your neck, his teeth never leaving the skin. he sucked the skin between his lips, biting down harder.

you whimper, a sharp sting traveling throughout your body, "no," you breathed, your chest rising and falling rapidly. "fuck," you whisper, a smile growing on matt's face as he pulled away.

he admired his work, the dark marks splayed out against your neck and collarbone area. his hand pushes his sweater up your torso, his lips connecting with the soft skin as he kissed his way up to one of his favorite spots of your body.

your boobs. his tongue parted his lips, trailing up the skin before capturing your right bud in between his teeth making you let out a squeal. your back arched, the pleasure of his warm mouth surrounding your nipple making you squirm.

your hands flew to his head, tangling themselves in his hair. he detatched his mouth, a tsking noise leaving his lips as he shoved your hands over your had. "no touching, brats don't get to touch," he spat, his mouth latching onto your left bud.

you whimper, "please," you beg, a low chuckle leaving his lips. "please what? you tryna apologize for being such a bitch earlier? you think a little 'please' is gonna get me to forgive you?" he spat, his teeth nipping at the sensitive bud.

he pulled away, sitting up and shoving your legs apart. his hands hooked themselves under your thighs, his nails digging into the skin. he pulled you closer to him, lining his cock with your entrance.

he pushed in, a loud gasp leaving your lips. "you're always so tight," he groaned, his hips rolling. his length pushed into you, filling you up and hitting the right spots. "fuck, matt," you whine, squeezing your fists shut, surely leaving crescent marks with your nails.

he lets out a low chuckle, a sadistic smile on his face, "what's wrong princess? you close already?" he cooed, his hips snapping into yours. your eyes roll back, your mouth hanging open as he moves his hips at an animalistic pace.

the squelching noise of your cunt and skin on skin could be heard through the room. "shit, baby," he growled, his nails digging into the flesh of your thighs, the stinging sensation making tears build up in your eyes.

his hips were relentless, pounding into you with a brutal force. one of his hands went to the headboard for stability, his other one going to the bend of your knee, pushing it forward.

his cock pushed in deeper, hitting all the right spots. "fuck, fuck," you moaned, the coil in your stomach about to burst, "matt please," you begged, his hand flying down to grip your throat, his rings pushing against the skin.

"no," he grunted, the tears falling down your cheeks, "please," you repeated, a small whine following after.

"you think you deserve to cum?" he asks, his voice low and deep, "this was what you wanted, no?" his hand tightens around your throat, "to have me fuck you stupid, ruin you.

"you don't deserve it, not after how you acted," his hand leaves your throat, smacking your cheek with enough force to turn your head.

"but i'll allow it," he said, his thumb moving down to rub your clit, "because you're mine," his lips came down to press a soft kiss to your lips, a loud moan escaping your mouth. the coil was about to burst, the knot in your stomach tightening.

"fuck, yes," you whimper, "please, please," you begged. "go on," he growled, his thumb never stopping its motions, "cum, cum all over my cock. show me who owns this pretty pussy, princess." he groans, his hips never slowing down.

"fuck, matt!" you scream, the knot finally breaking as the waves of pleasure course through your body. a high pitched whine leaves your lips, the sensitivity kicking in as he continues to push his hips against yours.

your hands move from the spot above your head to gripping the back of matt's shoulder, your nails leaving angry marks eliciting a whimper from the boy.

"that's my girl," he groans, the overstimulation beginning to kick in as he chases his high. "so pretty, all for me, right? just a fucking plaything," he grunts, the bed frame smacking against the wall as your legs bounce with each movement.

"all yours," you breathe, the tears rolling down your face, the stimulation becoming too much. his hips stutter, his breathing labored as his moans become higher pitched, his hand on the headboard gripping it until his knuckles turn white.

"fuck, princess," he whimpers, his hips pushing against yours before stopping completely. his forehead drops down against yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly. he peppers kisses all on your face, "don't fucking tease when i'm working, ya?"

tag list:

@chrryclouds @sturniolossss @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloa @tillies33ssss @hysteria-things @etvar12 @lily-strnlo @freshsturns

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

analyzing some images (for fun)

so i found this pair of promotion images for good omens season 1 on the good omens reference library server and it’s hooked me so so bad im having feelings about it. we’re analyzing them now. not really for meta purposes just fun to see the parallels and differences :)

everything under the cut !

unique traits

aziraphale:

1) his plank background. its older, its crisp, it smells like wood from the screen. mmmm

2) the pencil shavings at the bottom. he does a lot of writing honestly, so i like this. also adds a messy and cozy vibe he always seems to have in that shop…. i like that blessed shop fr

3) his SUSHI. little soy sauce drops near it too—just the right amount of deliberate mess. our first formal introduction to aziraphale in the present day and beginning the Tomfoolery just happens to have sushi... i watch that scene and i go “yeah, that sums up aziraphale i suppose” very nicely. (they dont have sushi Up There) (im literally never gonna forget that)

4) the ray of light shining on the scene. tiny thing, but a bit of the heaven is peeking through..it also sort of blurs the whole image but i think thats just me.

5) and we’ve saved the best for last: the big whopper. the nice and accurate prophecies of agnes nutter, witch. I LOVE THAT BOOK!!!!!!! i cant remember if that ring stain was there but if it isnt in the show on the actual book i’d assume thats to add that ‘thy cocoa doth grow cold’ thing. ALSO. you know what’s being used as a bookmark in the pages?? a check for the ritz. he bookmarked their one chance for living . with a ritz check . MMMMMM. my GOD. that means so much to me even if i cant convey it in words. he KEEPS THE CHECKS 😭😭😭😭😭😭

crowley:

1) let me get my favorite out of the way. crowley’s glasses have fire in their reflection. we’ll talk about the glasses themselves later but the REFLECTION IN THEM. fucking FIRE, BOOKSHOP fire, PAIN, SRIVING THROUGH THE M-25, HELL, I DONT KNOWIM HAVING FEELINGS!!! i do believe this is a bookshop fire reference though, the flames feel too Familiar. the lengths people will go to to attack others 🤧

2) the leather seat background!!!!!!! probably meant to look similar to the bentley’s seats but i cant recall their texture, exactly. maybe just meant to convey modernness—unsure. still, its there <3

3) the tiny little crisp plant </3 its trying his damned best to stay perfect. it might a specific plant that means something, but i cant tell at thsi angle, so i’ll assume its a mini version of the ficus he keeps in the flat. its so SMALL and sitting in ANOTHER POT i CANT

4) the snake slithering!! black and red (in this image it looks orange lol) bellied scales!!!! slithering there, chilling, being crowley, showing hints. love it

5) QUEEN RECORD!!!!! TRYING TO OVERRIDE IT WITH TCHAIKOVSKY!!!!!! the tape over it does a reminisence to crowley’s handwriting, but in a clean ‘this made made to be a font’ way. not exactly just yet. ive become a fan of tchaikovsky recently. amazing darling wonderful crowley, trying to push the rock up the hill for eternity 😞

6) HIS LITTLE DEMON KEY THING. HOLDING A TINY LITTLE BENTLEY CAR KEY OHHH. thats how he doesnt lose the tiny key despite probably not needing one of those. and he CHOSE that intentionally probably. little wings and red circle….URGHHHHHHH

similarities

mmmmm now here’s the good shit. similarities! i’ll bullet point most of them but ohhhhh. ohhhh these. i’ll go from top to bottom as best i can….

1) one of their shoes, obviously. crowley has them iconic snakeskin shoes while aziraphale has his old loafers like the old loafer he is /pos

2) chateauneuf de pape wine bottle labels! (crowley’s is under his glasses, aziraphale’s is next to his shoe). oh my fucking god theyre MATCHING. the labels are old, battered, of course labeling the drink’s age, but mmmmm its these tiny details that get me going….

3) their respective drinks in their mugs—crowley’s a black mug coffee (or what looks to be coffee) and aziraphale’s angel mug tea (or what looks to be tea). i think about that mug sometimes. where did he get that from?? mystery for the ages….

4) their glasses, of course. crowley’s iconic sunglasses and aziraphale’s reading spectacles. i cant really tell the reflections in this pair, but if its supposed to be fucking fire, im done with this. im giving up forever

5) their own watches! aziraphale’s is visibily older while crowley’s is visibly modern, but they function just the same. also, crowley’s is set to 2:56:59 (presumably PM), which is around the time we see when crowley starts checking his watch at warlock’s birthday party. its almost time for disaster to strike!! 😃

6) and finally….their ties!! they have their own ties!!! or more accurately, neck accessories, but i digress. i mesn i assume its crowley’s neck tie, because the fabric looks… different. either way, crowley’s neck thingie is very whispy and aziraphale has his funky little bowtie i love so much,,,

okay thats it. there’s no canonical implications, any fantheories, none of the sort. just saw a pair of images and my mind went GOD DAMN!!!!!! theyre very important to me. i need to look at more promo material 😔

[slytherinshua]

ALL MY LOVE

genre. fluff. boyfriend headcanons. warnings. minghao dreams abt marriage and starting a family. not proofread and written while i'm sick and have half a braincell so i'm rly sorry if this is a mess. pairing. minghao x fem!reader. wc. 558. request. no. a/n. babe wake up slytherinshua is back skdjskd GOD IM SO HAPPY I WAS ABLE TO WRITE SOMETHING FINALLY 😭😭 thought this blog was literally gonna die cause writers block was so strong. also surprised it ended up being svt that broke through my block esp minghao but yk ill take it no complaints !!!!

boyfriend!minghao who’s a gentle, slow lover. he never rushes, but he also never leaves you with any doubt. he can read you like a book, and any concerns on your mind seem to be instantly resolved before you even have time to bring them up. he’s steady and true; your rock that you always know you can fall back on when things get tough. no matter what, he’ll always be there. he gives you a soft passionate type of love that you would never get tired of even after decades. 

boyfriend!minghao who’s always been ambitious. he has dozens of things he’d like to do and achieve, but he also knows how to take life slow and enjoy the present. he knows he has time to do everything he wants, and he reminds you that you also have plenty of time as well. sometimes you need that extra voice to tell you that it’s okay to take a break sometimes. it’s okay to breathe and think. no matter what, minghao will always be your biggest supporter— always rooting for you to strive and reach your goals, even if they are small.

boyfriend!minghao who helps you relax after a long day. warm tea and a massage are enough to put your mind and body at ease. his hands work like magic over your neck, shoulders, and back. it’s so good, in fact, that you feel guilty for not paying him for his service. he would never accept anything like that from you, though. once he’s done working out the knots for 20 minutes, he’d fall on top of you, giggling into the crook of your neck as he acts like your personal weighted blanket.

boyfriend!minghao who has a whole collection of couple items with you over the years. whether it be clothes, jewelry, or even mugs, everything he buys seems to come in a set of two. he can’t even imagine buying something for just himself anymore when you always seem to cross his mind whenever he spots something cute.

boyfriend!minghao who scolds you (but truly only out of love). his attention to detail and observant nature is both his strength and his flaw. he’s quick with his tongue— too quick— and will catch himself lecturing or correcting you when it wasn’t strictly needed. although it’s rare for his scolding to get on your nerves, as you know its a way he shows that he cares about you and loves you, it sometimes does. but he’s quick with his apologies as well, so no bickering between you two can ever last long. 

boyfriend!minghao who is so happy and secure in your relationship. he knows he’s found the one with you, and now that he’s been able to call you his for years, there’s no way he would ever be able to imagine his life without you. the overwhelming fondness he holds for you plants itself in his head and his heart and always has him thinking about your future together. he’d tell you randomly over tea how much he’s been thinking and dreaming about spending the rest of his life with you. whether it be big milestones like your wedding and starting a family, or smaller ones like waking up in each others arms each morning, he’s excited to experience it all with you.

↳ svt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @minholing,,

@shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,,

@wonwooz1,, @blossominghunnie,, @haecien,, @amara-mars,, @okshu,,

@parkjennykim,, @wootify,, @svtoose,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,,

@heavenfilm,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,,

@talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,,

@gong-fourz,, @nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny

[ohbueckers]

EXTRA POINTS. blurb!

pairing, paige bueckers x fem!reader. notes, glasses p fic per request of a few queens… MAMA WORKED AS FAST AS SHE COULD! @thaatdigitaldiary @absolutelydreadful & credits to @justliketoreadsowhat ‘s anon for the detail. warnings, none just fluff? sexual jokes as well because who am i without them, like…

the night air is still pretty warm, the scent of freshly cut grass still tingling your nostrils after the soccer game you attended with paige and her teammates. it had been a long night—filled with cheering, concessions, and paige’s arm constantly draped around your shoulder as she proudly showed you off. she somehow convinced you to tag along, but watching her light up during the game made it worth it.

now, you’re walking back to the dorms, the sound of sneakers and laughter being the only thing heard off the empty sidewalks as the team stalks a few yards in front of the two of you. paige has her hair slicked back into a messy low bun, a few strands falling loose, and her purple glasses perched perfectly on the bridge of her nose. the lenses catch a subtle blue tint from the streetlights, a little detail you can’t stop staring at—honestly, she looks so good, it’s borderline unfair. you never thought purple glasses could be your weakness, but here you are.

“you enjoying the ice cream, or are you too busy staring at me?” paige teases, glancing over with that signature smirk. she knows exactly what she’s doing, making it impossible to look away from her.

“shut up, paige,” you reply with a scoff, although there’s no ruthless intent as you nudge her with your elbow. “i’m just enjoying the quiet now that your fan club’s calmed down.”

“oh, you love it!” she laughs out, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. “don’t act like you don’t love watching me be all famous and stuff. plus, you looked cute taking all those pics with me. so i ain’t complainin.’”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile creeping up on your face. paige had been asked for a picture more times than you could count on your hands, and obviously the tiktoks came with that. she’d dragged you into most of it, keeping you close the whole time, making sure everyone knew you were hers. it was chaotic and you were used to it at this point, and you could admit there was something fun about watching her be in her element.

“alright, maybe it was kinda fun,” you say, taking a bite of the spoonful of ice cream she’d held out for you so casually. the cold hits your tongue, and you savor the flavor for a second before narrowing your eyes at her. “but you still owe me.”

paige jerks her head back, grinning and clearly enjoying herself. “owe you? i’m literally spoon-feeding you right now. how do i still owe you?”

you quirk an eyebrow up at her, leaning in a little as you held her gaze, and it was the kind of look that said enough.

she chuckles, leaning back slightly, still holding the spoon in front of you like she’s ready for round two. “aight, fine, i’ll give you that. but let me get you back at home, baby—i got some ideas.” her voice drops a little lower, clearly playing but also half-serious. she may be all jokes, but she definitely knows how to back them up.

before you can even respond, she takes her own spoonful of your ice cream, the nerve, flashing a cheeky grin before planting a wet, playful kiss right on your lips. the cold of the treat and the warmth of her mouth clash, leaving you squealing and half-laughing, trying to push her away. “paige!” you protest, wiping the ice cream from your lips, but there’s no hiding the wide smile breaking out across your face. she’s such a menace sometimes.

as if one cue, everyone seemed to have glanced back at the right time, catching sight of something straight out of a rom-com.

“yo! they really can’t keep their hands off each other.” kk’s voice cuts through.

“really can’t take them nowhere…” aubrey quips.

sarah laughs, chiming in. “oh, we see you, paige! real smooth,” and morgan practically doubles over in laughter beside her.

paige smirks, and you swore she would’ve thrown up those rizz hands if her hands weren’t full. “what can i say?” you smile yourself, shaking your head at her and leaning into the blonde’s side as the banter from behind fades into the background. as much as paige plays around, the way she’s been with you tonight—keeping you close, showing you off, feeding you ice cream like it’s the most natural thing in the world—it’s those little moments that make it so easy to fall for her. every laugh, every teasing smile, even the way she annoys you, it’s like she knows exactly how to keep your guard down. and honestly, you don’t mind one bit.

“you know, you didn’t have to buy me ice cream,” you say softly, looking up at her.

“nah, i did,” paige replies, her voice gentle. “had to make sure my girl knows i take care of her. plus,” she smirks again, looking away like she’s cooking up some mischievous ass reply. “i’m tryna’ score some extra points for later.”

you laugh, shoving her off of you yet she barely flinches. “yeah, okay, keep dreaming.”

paige pulls you even closer, kissing the side of your head as your arms fall to your sides. she murmurs, “dreaming? nah, i’m ms. make it happen.”

[capslocked]

HONNE, TATAMAE & THE OTHER ONE

male reader x shin yuna

9k words

Yuna shuffles into your office with the same sneaky smile, the same easy slouch, and she settles into one of the chairs across the table. There is, apparently, more to talk about.

It's a matter of image, of perception, is what she believes. 

You know every good lie starts with the truth.

So you swallow. You pause. Some other part of you understands Yuna can't ignore who she really is, and you’re not sure you can either.

-

Look - Shin Yuna is the kind of woman that turns heads, even with the best of intentions. A long, lithe silhouette; an easy, rosy sort of youthfulness clinging to the swell of her cheekbones, the curve of her waist. Take a dress that's cut to show a little thigh, or a hairstyle pushed back on one side - earrings, or heels, or just the subtle swipe of red over her lip - it doesn't take much for men (or anyone else) to figure that out. A girl who, more times than not, really ought to have a boy's hand planted on her ass, in possession.

So the opportunity to capture such a form perfected - all toned and graceful and flush for curves, her legs never seeming to end, the slithering fit of the dresses - these were the things they wanted. Package it, put a logo on it - better yet, a ribbon or a bow - and ship it straight to the consumer.

Somebody everyone wants, somebody no one can ever have.

“So,” Yuna asks from the other side of your desk, lips slanting halfway coy. “Are you going to treat me like an adult?"

Her fingers play idly with the hem of her skirt, and she lets a long, slender leg slowly slide out from beneath her.

“In what way,” you answer, half paying attention.

"The photos." She doesn't have the slightest qualms about lifting it higher. The soft creak of leather, and a deepening smile. "Am I not allowed to be a little racy?"

"That's certainly... one way of looking at it."

You glance away from where her stockings wrap around the soft curve of her thighs to flip back through the photos in your lap, one after the other, each a little different from the last. The beach, the sun, a flimsy white slip of a bikini top that hides exactly nothing, her muscles wet and glistening and perfect. Beyond suggestive, it's considerably inappropriate.

But then to a lot of people, Yuna is a lot of things. 

She’s more clever than anyone gives her credit for. And she’s fucking gorgeous, sure. That’s definitely not up for debate, but god is she young - she's barely twenty. And here’s some rather uninteresting food for thought: you couldn't even technically take her for a drink without faking an ID or breaking some law or another, like a real one. So go ahead, chew that down. Girls her age are typically studying, or working a retail job and getting wasted on the weekends. And they aren't typically making six, seven figures turning their head to the camera and asking how much more skin?

You have some thoughts.

Prudently, you’re her publicist, and it’s your job to make sure that the public gets a good look at her and sees exactly what you want them to see. It's unfair. She wields sex like a weapon. She's got the face, the body; it's an easy sell, commodified and commercialized down to the finest detail, the softest curve, the slightest arch of her brow. The idea's to not let anyone look too long, should they catch something you haven't approved yet, or the fact that she's quite possibly a real person with a real life and real feelings, which could easily fuck up her brand, so unfortunately, that's a bit of a no-go.

Sign of the times maybe, no ethical consumption under another something, yadda yadda - it's a shitty business, really, and the whole thing usually leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

(And just to be upfront, as an important disclosure: you are fucking her brains out on the side, which is a different kind of ethical dilemma, with a different kind of flavor to it. 

You’re supposed to be something of a role model - and she’s gone and fucked up bad by falling for you. From her perspective, it probably makes sense. Girl gets boy, bespoke song, credits roll and it's fine. No sin to atone, no 'after'. 

It was supposed to be a one time thing. It’s metastasizing into something you’re not even going to attempt to put into words. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen, you know that. And you know the girl has daddy issues, but then you've never had a problem whatsoever playing into it. The possessiveness, the control - she gets off on it. You're pretty sure that she'd do just about anything if you asked her, and you'll admit that the thought alone makes your stomach stir, your mouth run dry.)

Yuna taps her knuckles on the wood of your desk. “What’s the verdict?” 

"Well, professionally," you say, caveat in hand, and you give the photos one last flip through. "I'd say they're fine.”

"Oh?" Yuna cocks her head to the side. Her long, blonde hair curtains over her shoulder, and the smile that shadows in at the corner of her mouth is almost wicked. She leans forward, chin propped on a palm, and you see that her expression is bright, glittering with interest. "And unprofessionally?"

Sure. It's a fair question.

Though she's wearing her stage face, the one that looks all big eyes and doe lashes, a hint of a pout on her plush bottom lip, and she's staring at you expectantly, the way she might look at a man she's just asked for the time.

You've seen her look a million other ways. You've seen her with her knees spread, her cheeks flushed, on all fours, straddling your lap, face pressed into the sliding glass door of your shower, her eyes screwed shut as she chokes out your name. And god, doesn’t she look good in all of them.

Your fingers tap against the photos.

“Unprofessionally," you tell her, and the smile on your face is tight - unknowable. "I think they’re a little… gaudy."

Yuna frowns, and it's just a flash before her expression is carefully blank again, the stage face back in full swing. She's been doing this since she was a teenager, so the mask is impeccable, but you know her, and you know that she's thinking: about the photo shoot, the way the photographer was looking at her, and the way you had looked at her later, too.

She knows what you've seen. She's wondering if that's why.

"Really," she asks, a note of disappointment in her voice.

"Really," you confirm with a small sigh, though you're still smiling. It's a small, private sort of smile, like you're remembering a joke. You don't miss the way she glances down at your mouth either. "Let me be clear, you have a shot at real success. I mean, you have a chance at a career. A real, sustainable career.”

She's sitting there with her legs crossed, her foot tapping restlessly, and when she's silent for a moment too long, the way her eyes narrow just a smidge, her head tipped slightly, you realize how it sounds. Patronizing.

"Look," you amend. You're not the best at apologies, but you try. "I just mean - I think that you could be doing something that you actually enjoy."

"Who says I don't enjoy this," she says, and there's a bite in her tone, a challenge. She's leaning back in her seat now, arms crossed.

"What, taking your clothes off for the camera?" You laugh, a quick bark. Isn’t that a cruel question, and you can see it in the way her eyes flash. "You could do a lot more than that, I'm just saying."

"Right," she says, and she doesn't blink, doesn't even move. Her gaze is fixed, unwavering. "Because I'm not pretty enough."

You open your mouth. Close it.

It's not a question. It's a statement.

"That's not what I'm saying-"

"Do you know what makes me different from the IT-girl-of-the-month? The Jang Wonyoungs, the Bae Irenes, the Kim Jisoos of the world?" Yuna cuts in.

"Yuna, this isn't-"

"You should know. " She laughs. "It's your job, knowing things, isn't it?"

The silence stretches thin between you. She's not wrong. There’s the quintessential beauty, the timeless classic, the fantasy-wrapped-up-as-a-daydream - oh, it's all sexual, but the product there is palatable (read: marketable). An idea the general public wants to take home to their mother, not take to bed. A beauty so docile and innocent, you feel guilty harboring those untoward thoughts it makes you have.

Yuna is somewhere possibly, someway probably the opposite. You’ve sold her as such, as fantasy in sheep's clothing. She's neither afraid to put the images to words, nor speak her desires aloud. It's her own brand of sensuality, and it's what the public wants - has always truly wanted, since the dawn of man and of popstars fucking their publicists - what the public wants but turns itself in knots just to pretend they don't. The only way it’ll end up in anyones’ parents' home is under the guise that it will be smuggled upstairs and held down into the springs of a mattress. Hand over her mouth, or maybe around her throat, just so she'll shut up.

She's not a nice girl, or the girl-next-door, a bride-in-a-box, but you'd known that before. The line between fact and fiction is fine indeed.

"You're different," you tell her, finally.

"When I first came in here, you had no qualms, no issue to raise, and now all of a sudden, everything is too much," she says, and she's not smiling, her tone flat. "If it was a problem from the jump, you would've said so."

“I just think a little subtlety would be a nice change of pace. It could go a long way, I mean, I could show you the data- "

"So you're going soft on me, is that it?"

You blink, and the realization hits.

"Just where was this noble version of you when we first started out? You had no problem then, remember? Put a sixteen-year-old in front of a camera, in this industry, and all of a sudden-"

"Don't."

“And suddenly it's all 'oh no, that's a little too much, we need to dial it back'." She sighs, a single sharp burst. "Why is that? Is it because you think that now you own me? I fuck you, swallow your cum and call you daddy, and now these are your decisions? Is that it?"

She’s standing now, her chair shoved back so fast it nearly clatters to the floor. There's a storm on her face, almost a rage. This now become a familiar story. The one where the girl's too pretty for her own good. Too much, too soon.

"I'm not a child," she tells you, her tone measured, a sharp contrast to the fire in her eyes. "I know what I want. I know how to get it. You're not telling me anything I don't already know. I'm different. You're right."

She's different, but the girl's clever, too. And she's stubborn. It's a dangerous combination.

You breathe slow. "Then why don’t you act like it."

“If they’re going to call me a slut,” she hisses, and she's walking forward. Her palms land on your desk, hard, and you glance down at her clenched fists, at her neatly kept nails, "you know, after we leak them all those steamy photos online-"

Your mind clicks. You reach to slam the cover of the photo book shut. She's caught your hand, though, in hers, holding it firmly to the desk.

Yuna glances at the photos over again, at the tight fit of the swimwear, or how the ties slip in an invisible breeze. And she's biting her lip, trying not to smile, you can tell. "You know it might be worth it for once," she says, slipping a finger between the buttons of her shirt.

There's a long, tense moment, and before you can register it, Yuna has rounded your desk; she’s closing the distance, fast. 

And she’s lowering her eyes. Putting her lips on yours.

It knocks the wind from your sail, for just the instant. You're speechless.

Because her fingers. Her mouth. Her hair. Yuna's everywhere, and she's warm. It's utterly selfish, you understand: you want her to be yours. You want her to be yours and no one else's.

She’s realizing she might be.

You feel her grabbing for more of you. Wanting. She tilts her head, her breath hot, and you kiss her back, her mouth slick against your own, and the kiss is a fast, deliberate kind of messy. Your teeth catch her bottom lip, and her tongue slips past yours, licking into your mouth, her hands clutching at the collar of your shirt. It's not like it is when you're fucking, which is slow and hot, and she's on her back, legs around your waist, her nails biting into your skin, or when she's bent over the arm of the sofa, her ass in the air and her back arched, her breathless moans a chorus of yes, yes, please. This kiss is more battle, more heat, less gentle and less finesse. It's the kind of kiss that's just short of an argument.

"You're an asshole," she breathes into your mouth, and it's not a compliment.

You smile against her.

"So are you," you murmur, and her lips are parted, her eyelids fluttering shut, her breath coming quick and hot.

"Then maybe you should just fuck me," she says. She's not asking. “Yeah.” You press your words right into her neck, her collarbone. “Maybe I should.”

Your hands are on her hips faster than you can realize what it is they’re doing, palms pressing into her, and then you're walking her backwards, shuffling a few steps until the small of her back collides with the edge of your desk, and you're lifting her up onto the surface, the photographs falling to the floor, scattering.

"I thought we weren't supposed to do this here," she murmurs, pulling away for just a moment, her mouth swollen and wet, her eyes dark. She knows exactly what it does to you: the goading, the taunting - the looks of faux-innocence later over a bare shoulder, her ass in the air. How it can get you to fuck her within an inch of her life. What it’ll get her, the return on investment.

"And I thought we agreed to longer skirts."

Her thighs are smooth, silky, and they part, the lace of her underwear stark against her skin. You slide a hand beneath the elastic band, sinking down, and down, until she inhales sharply.

"The fuck do you end up doing going up the stairs?" you add, and your fingers are tracing the swell of her hip, and you can feel the goosebumps on her skin.

She bites her lip. You sink down to press a kiss to her thigh, and then the other.

"Nothing," she tells you, and her eyes are wide. "I guess it all just hangs out."

She simply smirks right back into you, throws her arms over your shoulders. You’re snared, caught - she’ll always be able to fuck what she wants right out of you.

"Jesus, Yuna." Your hand curls around her wrist, thumb pressed to her pulse, and her shoulders roll back.

You push her down, and she's sprawled across the desk, legs stretching wide, her head tilted back and her chest heaving. “God, you’re so fucking wet, and I've barely touched you. That turns you on? Being a brat?"

She sucks air past her teeth, and you can measure each rise and fall of her chest. The lace under her hips is soaked, her pussy swollen and pink. Like if she doesn’t get your hot, open mouth on her clit this instant, you’re both going to have a problem.

You slip two fingers into her instead, and Yuna keens.

"I know it does," you say, and your voice comes out lower, drier than you expect. She's hot, so wet around you, her pussy fluttering. "It fucking turns me on, too."

"Please," and “god,” is what all you receive back in half whispers, while her legs are spread, her heels now really dug into the square of your back, and she's got a fistful of your hair like she owns it. Her voice is high, her eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t be such a fucking tease."

You're not going to make it easy. She's not going to make this quick.

"What, and you aren’t?"

You curl your fingers inside her, and the noise that leaves her is positively obscene. She's grinding against your palm, her hips bucking, and her lips are parted, her eyelashes dark and thick, fanning her cheeks. She's panting, her thighs trembling.

"No," she breathes. If she’s shaking her head, you can’t tell. "I'm exactly what you tell them I am."

Your hand stills, and it takes a moment for her to realize that the pressure inside her is gone. Her eyes snap open, her mouth twisted.

"Fuck you," she spits. "Put them back."

You're already sinking down to your knees, and you've got her skirt shoved up, the lace panties pulled aside, her hips canted, her pussy glistening. The stockings can stay, fuck, the heels, too. She's so fucking hot, her legs spread apart and her lips red. Her palm shoved into her brow, and her breath just barely more than a ragged huff of air. You can feel her body wound tight and ready, her eyes on the ceiling.

You put your tongue against her, flat and slow. Inaccurate, indiscriminate, licking up her wet cunt. And her whole body arches off the desk, a cry leaving her mouth with her head thrown back. Her thighs are shaking, and her heel presses into your shoulder, and god, she tastes incredible.

"Please." It comes like music, really, a song of desperation. You can hear it. She's singing it for you now. "Oh god, please, fuck-"

So you do her one better. You put your whole mouth over her, and she fucking shivers. You don’t even try to ease into it - you're devouring, ravishing her, working your lips and tongue all over her pussy, lapping the length of her in broad, hot strokes, and she's almost shrieking, her body going taut. You suck on her lips, pressing your tongue into her clit, and when you pull off her, your hand takes over the place where your tongue can't quite reach, her wetness slick around your fingers. Yuna's close - you can see that she is, you can hear that she is, and it's her gasp that lets you know.

"I'm -" she says, her voice reaching higher, her nails digging into the flesh of your shoulders, the wood of your desk. The sound she makes is wretched and beautiful. "God, I'm cumming, I'm cumming - fuck!"

The licking, the lapping, the fucking fingering. You can feel her slicked cunt pulse and throb in a satisfied, anticipatory kind of way. Even if she wasn’t audibly wet around your knuckles, you’d read Yuna like a map.

Your thumb taps across her clit, once - twice, thrice, and it’s just that.

She arches off your desk, thighs trembling as your tongue works her over, This hard, hungry kiss, and she tastes as sweet as she looks - as filthy as she acts, too. Her pussy is slick, her hips rolling, her body trembling, and she's making soft, little ah, ah, ah, sounds into the wet seal of your mouth. She's trying to keep it quiet, because she knows as well as you, everyone in the damn office does, probably - it's one thing to play at being a slut. A complete other to really fuck like one.

Your finger slips in and out of her pussy, and then another. They fill her up. The knuckles bending and pushing deeper. Yuna's fucking ruined - your desk is ruined.

But then there you are, complicit, and perhaps a little evil: licking and licking and licking right into her, making her grip twist in your hair and her thighs clench around your face. You can feel it in how her breathing is coming fast, faster, her whole body growing taut, and it was never going to take long, you figure, the way her hips were rolling the moment you got your hands on her. You can tell. She's close, and she's so pretty, all flushed and writhing, her skirt hiked up, her ass perched on the edge of your desk, and when her mouth falls open and her breath catches in her throat, you pull yourself up to watch her, the heel of your hand pressed against her clit, and she's shaking.

"Look at me,” you tell her, a kiss trailing unsatisfyingly into the crease of her thigh, your voice running coarse.

She does, her gaze glassy, and the sound that leaves her mouth is a sob. That’s all it really takes.

“Show me. What face you make when you cum on my fingers sweetheart, show me what a slut you actually are-"

You can watch it all in real time, the panting, the heaving. The sculpted lines of her pretty face screw up, real tight, and she lets out another moan, breathier this time, her mouth hanging open. She does it again when you press down. And Yuna fucking shakes, her hands balled, white-knuckling, and the desk rattling beneath her.

It's all a matter of slight degradation, you’ve learned, the barest humiliation. Like the paradoxical freedom she knows she can find in a hand clenched tight around her throat or her hair pulled and twisted into a fist or the sharp sting of a smack across her ass. Her pretty face. She likes a little something that burns. Something sinewy, visceral, raw: you call her a whore, a filthy fucking cumslut and it makes her body curl like she has hot metal pressing into her skin. Makes her breathless, like she wants you to own her.

Sometimes it's better than being fucked.

(Sometimes.)

Because just look at her: she’s in the middle of coming apart, mouth fallen slack, brow furrowed - and she gets real quiet when she cums, the absolute opposite of the journey she’d taken to get there, all those loud little, uh-uh-ah, fucking please god, her moans, her whimpers - her orgasm ripping right through the middle of her, the hourglass of her entire body stiffening on borrowed time as it washes across her features.

You let out a loud sigh, something she can moor herself to that isn’t your fingers, the desk, or your hair at the roots. Yuna can be every bit as uncomplicated as she can be complex, but god, you love her most like this: an unrehearsed, beautiful mess.

"Baby," you tell her, because it's easier to just call her that, and because you don't know how else to end the statement, because you know if you ask, she'll let you - hell, she'll beg for more, and that’s got your brain feeling rather mushily incoherent at present.

"Daddy," she responds - because of course she fucking does; she’s gasping, and her cheeks are still so pink, her body sated, and your heart leaps into your throat. 

It's a problem; you've been trying to work it out for a good few months now, and by this, you mean the little moment you have right after you're done, where your eyes meet, and you smile at her. A problem, too, her lips. A problem, because she kisses you, soft, and slow, and easy. A problem, because her heart's probably already yours.

If anyone were to ask, you would have said there's no greater pleasure than knowing a girl that's almost died to take your cock, but maybe that's the point: it's just supposed to feel a bit better if you're a little head over heels, a little stupid about it too.

"I'm going to use this perfect pussy now," you warn her - just simple formality - because you're already rolling her down onto her back, your cock hard and aching against your trousers.

You've got your hands on her stockings, tugging them down to her ankles, the lace of her panties around her thighs, the neat garter of her garter belt wrapped around her hips, her cunt bare beneath it. You unzip, too slow. You tug yourself out.

“I’ll be good,” she says to you, a promise.

“Yeah,” you return to her, “I know.”

And you slip your cock into her cunt, just barely - maybe an inch, maybe more - and you hear a little noise leave her throat, low. Broken. 

“Fuck,” she murmurs, and god, you just can't help it, it's easy; you sink deeper, nice, slow, everything smooth inside her, until another broken sort of gasp spills off her lips. 

And then another: "oh my fucking god."

You snap your hips back in, bottoming out this time in the wet heat of her perfect cunt, and she just fucking collapses. Yuna looks like an absolute dream in this state of half-dress, half-distress: black suede around the ankles, stilettos, with just the perfect heel. There are worse things, you can imagine, and she looks perfect sprawled out against your notes and portfolios, all this hot, aching want. As gorgeous as she is fucked. You tear into her stockings, a little. You’ll tear more. 

You already know you're going to hell. Or at least that’s where you should already be, but you hips crash into hers again, fucking her legs wider apart, spreading her open across your desk for you, getting her slick all over the photos, her career - it’s all so perfectly unfair.

"You have no idea, the things I want to do to you right now," you breathe, your tone hushed, and you're talking again, like you often do. There goes your mouth - but your hips drag back, and then again, her pussy clenching, vice tight and impossibly wet.

It's a long, torturous, lazy sort of a pull, that draws these pretty thin moans from the very center of her.

And the way that feels, your cock buried deep in her cunt: better than good - heaven, if you care enough about labels for it, or the names of things. You haven’t any real way to tell; the gates haven't opened or anything, so all you're working from here is an educated guess. From the fact that Yuna’s eyes have slid closed, her lips parted, and her whole body starting now to tremble gently with it.

"Jesus, this perfect, tight pussy grips me so good, god - such a good girl, always so fucking wet for me," and your mouth is pressed to the arch of her ear, whispering every last thing you know will make her cum again, like a dream.

And she is, she does.

She's twisting up to grip at your hips, her head falling to one side. When you drag your cock through her cunt, slowly, you watch her lips purse and the way the flush moves all the way down the column of her neck, past her collarbone, her shirt half undone and her tits heaving against the white, sheer fabric. You fuck her for a little, and then you roll your hips slow, so slow. 

Until your pace is fucking punishing, deep, and so hard. You can’t help it.

Because it's unbelievable - she's so perfect, so tight around you. Fit snug like a glove, like she was made to take your cock, to whimper and mewl at your mercy. Her lips part further and she keens, her brows twisting in similar disbelief as you pound your length into her. The heat pooled in your belly, the way she looks under your desk: fuck, she's so beautiful like this, properly fucked. 

You'd let her ruin you for life - it's that simple.

"Yuna, you - fuck," you barely say, and you sound more than slightly stunned, so she’s filling in the gaps, elaborating in the spaces you cannot - that she loves it, that you’re so good for her, and so is that, and that, and that - the way it hits, right there, keep fucking her just like that, because right there, right there, right there, right there - the way she props herself up on her elbows to tell you, "you're fucking me so deep, oh my god - yes, oh my god, fuck."

By the time Yuna shudders through another orgasm, a silent ghost of a wail leaving her pretty frozen mouth, her lashes are batting against her cheeks, and she's biting her lip, so hard you're certain she's going to break the skin, her back strung like a bow. It's the look on her face, that soft sort of reverence, and how her lips are swollen and spit-slick, the pretty hollow of her throat. Your thrusts become faster, shorter - your own moan thick in your throat, your jaw hanging slack.

“Here,” you say, and she’s just putty between your fingers, on your cock.

You’re flipping her around, onto a different angle. You know she likes it, the way her tits are pressed against your desk, and it's hot the way her ass tilts right into your hips, arched. Proffering. "Be good for me, and spread yourself open."

She's already so meek when she complies. "Anything, sir. Stretch me out; I want you to make me yours."

God, she's practically purring when she talks like this. She knows exactly what that fucking does to you. Knows that when her eyes draw back, big and watery and full, you're a goner - if your cock wasn't deep in her pussy, fucking her open and raw, the view would nearly be enough. And all of this, the pretense, the pantomime, she knows how to bend the line of your body to her own, because when she turns, and presses her red mouth to the crest of her shoulder, you are hers.

You could probably cum, right now, deep down into the molten hot of her cunt: if your hips keep up their ruthless pace, if her ass was sticking up the slightest bit more - the sound that would come from her.

"Take that perfect cock - and fuck my pussy up," Yuna mewls, her voice saccharine and slurring, a touch whiny. She rolls her hips. Your cock grinds, still, though it stutters now - shallow and quick.

"All this pussy, for daddy's cock," and you're sure that the entire office can hear her now, the moans that escape from her mouth - but you can't even find it in you to care. You're caught, all of her a net you've willingly been ensnared by, and here you figure that's the slightest bit appropriate; you're so fucked, and it's funny, too. Funny enough to laugh about, later. "Nobody fucks this tight little pussy the way you do, sir."

It's a smile she hears in your voice when you say, "is that right? Go on then, let’s hear all the things you'd have me do to your slutty little cunt."

The line's crossed again, in some indecipherable direction. Where, again, exactly, does it matter? There are lines and lines, and none of them quite mark the beginning, the end, the periphery. This time you don't pull back; you dig deep, and it makes Yuna cry out like you’re killing her. Which, in a way - you already have.

So your hips stutter forward again, once more, and you lean into the slant, so fucking deep it's practically impaled. There’s nothing quite like holding this girl’s hips and pounding her from behind. Her pussy alone is fucking incredible. And the sound her ass makes against the flat of your stomach, the crease of your thighs - it's unimaginable, the way Yuna makes these little squeaks of a noise, like half-broken moans, when you fuck deep, deep, deeper into her. The way her arms splay wide and search frantic across your desk. And as you grab her slim, dainty wrist, pin it back and pull her tight - fixing her upright until you have her head lolling back against your chest - you simply fucking pound away.

Fucking all these little curses and sounds of appreciation out of her throat. Your cock forcing out each syllable, "yes," and "fuck," and "god, oh my fucking god - I cannot believe," now on repeat, how her tone grows tighter. How she moans - a lot, like something's being worked loose.

"Uh-uh," and you're holding her steady now, with one broad, strong hand at the back of her neck. "Keep telling me, and maybe I'll let you cum."

Your free hand finds purchase in her hair. Yuna's groan coming out pathetic and wanting, her mouth half open. You wrap her silky golden locks around your fist, her hair thread neatly through your fingers, and then give the slightest of yanks.

Christ, her pussy just fucking soaks onto you. Greedy. Needy.

"Shit," and Yuna gasps when she can, where she's allowed to.

"Oh, is my little girl into getting her hair pulled?" and you can see the signs of affirmation: the muscles inside her flexing, grasping you as you roll in, a small, soft nod, and the way she sighs your name, like a prayer on her lips.

Listen, she can barely speak, the way you're fucking her apart. Yuna's body is wound like a bow, like string and taught wire. Bent into the side of the desk and open for you, her pussy pulsing tight around you with every stroke.

"Sir, I'll do - whatever you need, just - just - let me have your cum, please -" and there, she's begging now, and her voice is tinny, breaking, breathless and airless.

Then it’s her fucking hair. You pull so much on it harder this time, with another measured thrust inside her, your body flush against her ass. Fingerprints searing down onto where her hips flare and taper, impossibly narrow.

You’re probably hurting her. You’re probably ruining her for anyone else - nothing will ever satiate her more than the way she sobs as your fingers twist tighter through her hair. Around her fucking miracle of a waist. It's an obscene sound that echoes down to your cock, as deep, hot and fucking filthy as her cries when she cums for the third, fourth?

"Just," Yuna barely makes, her eyelids heavy, her gaze flitting somewhere behind her. "Just look at you, fucking me so hard, filling up my tight little pussy, making me take everything your cock has to give. God, you love wrecking my perfect little hole, don't you?"

No, or yes, or probably. You’ll figure out the details later.

"God, I love it when you get real messy, when I get you like this-" your words run seamlessly into the searing heat between your bodies, like punctuation, like the end of days -

"Use me." She doesn't just say it. "Take me, and cum in me, wherever you want. Daddy, you can have my mouth, or, or, you can - you can finish inside me."

And god, you could, you really could: just the timbre of her voice does things to you, the way that it curls around the words daddy, and sir, and you're fucking me so goddamn good. She's saying them now, her whimpers breaking into outright moans and all: shit, please, please - you're gonna make me cum - oh - oh fuck! And when she's wound that tight, a quivering, sopping mess of a girl, you put your fingers against her clit, circling and pressing in tempo to the thrust of your cock.

The cruel metronome that makes. Hell, it fucking sends her.

She’s begging you to finish inside her. It's fucked up - and she knows it. She wraps her heels around the square of your back, and the tension rises, and rises, the coiled spring tight and waiting - just a push away, so you slam into her once, then twice more, the push of a hand splayed between her tits and your fingers digging into the muscle of her thigh. She wants you to cum in her pussy, fill her right up; she tells you that, again, that she wants it, and her voice is raspy, high. That she wants you now, as if she didn't before, and how does this compare, because she needs it now.

You hold out for just a little. You’re holding your breath. Just a little, just until Yuna’s eyelashes flutter open over her shoulder and she says your name, so sweetly, and says, "please, just, inside."

You shouldn't.

You can't.

So here, barely able to think at all, you end up doing the unthinkable - thinking all the while of pumping her right to the finish and draining your balls straight into the deepest reach of her cunt, how fucking tempting it may be - you muster an ounce of good judgment still adrift in a sea of lust. Your throbbing cock draws out of that wet, inviting heat and into your fist, and watch how that makes her begin to unspool: the way she tries to press her knees shut. She's sobbing for it, pleading, her lashes dark with tears. "No, no, fuck me, please, I'm begging you. Please, I'm going to be so good - god, please -"

You tug her back, look her in the eye, and let out a loud, shaky exhale. "Knees, princess."

She's too wracked with need to do anything other than comply. Her jaw drops. “But-”

"Mouth," you cut in, sharp enough that her gaze lifts, and you're right there - on the precipice, so close, watching her tongue dart out of her mouth to run across the swell of her bottom lip.

Watching her knees fold into the carpet, her stockings down loose around her thighs, her underwear hanging off an ankle. The rise and fall of her chest like rolling waves, and you can see her hands fisting on her knees, and her face: you watch the emotion flash over, like water on glass, and a moment is all it takes. She leans her face forward to your hand, as you wind her hair into your fist, her lips parted and her gaze lowered. She's obedient, taking the weight of your cock with her pretty pink mouth like the fucked-up-little-fantasy that she is, opening so nice and wide.

Her eyes flit up to yours, her mascara-ringed lashes fanned against the pink of her cheeks.

"My face," she tells you, or something close to it, "fuck my face. Go ahead, use it - cum all over me."

Your cock slides halfway home, her cheeks hollowing, and when it presses to the back of her throat, she gags. You curse and tip your head back, the wood of your desk digging into the flesh of your palm.

"What did you say," you half groan out. "Baby," you add, just for good measure, just to play along, "c'mon."

The tip of Yuna's tongue sweeps and swirls just beneath your cockhead, and she moans her answer around your length, lapping at a leak of precum. "I said," she's repeating now, her cheek brushing across your shaft, and you shudder. "Fuck, what I said was I want you to cum all over my face."

Jesus.

You bury your cock into her mouth once, twice. Let it sit there. Let her really struggle for it, the angle just a tad awkward from above. Let her lips stretch wide, and her shoulders shake a little - tears start to gather, pricking her eyes, her lipstick a mess, the way your cock fits, plugging up her throat so full. You hold her like that for just a second, a little less - until Yuna's moaning, the vibration low in her mouth, and her eyes flutter open, closed.

"Fuck," you spit out, and "perfect," and your voice is shot, your whole face warm, and you're going to cum on her - everywhere on her. Yuna, who’s been staring up at you in wide-eyed submission, gives you a little nod, like she means it.

Like she’s earned it.

And maybe she has: it only takes one last look to seal it - her hand curled around your cock, her cheek matted with her own spit and lipstick, the bright smudge of her own cum from the point of her chin to the cleft of her cupid's bow, and her eyes are locked on yours, eager and hot. Maybe she hasn't - and maybe you should make her beg, fuck her mouth some more - it's almost cruel, how she looks. A perfectly pretty picture, poised and pliant and waiting, and she's right there, beneath you, and fuck - this is so wrong, and you'll ruin her, you'll mark her up like this. She'll be painted like a work of art.

Your pulse thickens. Stands right up in your veins.

Then, your control, snapping: her pretty lashes flutter, her mouth gone slack, her jaw still tilted up like she expects a gift, an offering, her palm wrapped so nice and snug around the base of your cock, her expression dazed, and so easy, and perfect, so eager. You tilt your hips just a fraction further, and she fucking swallows, her tongue tracing the underside where you throb harder, heavier - her body lilting up as you press in so deep.

“God,” you breathe in, out. It hits hard. It hits fast. “Yuna-”

A tensing of your stomach coils up through like smoke, and your grip tightens on the edge of your desk, the other in her hair, a helpless, desperate thrusting, and there - it's a wonderful, brilliant sort of explosion, like light, the white-hot burn of a fever breaking. You cum all over her face and into her hair, spilling out streaks of hot, filthy white onto her sculpted features and the sweet line of her throat, and god, there's so much, she's taking it so easily, all her breathing hot and heavy and loud.

Her skin alabaster and porcelain; cotton and canvas; she lets you fucking paint her, all messy and ruined.

In fact she’s even smiling like she’s holding in a laugh, all gooey-soft with satisfaction, and you're jerking your cock slow through her slender fingers, even after there's nothing else left to give and every inch of her face is marked - the way she wears your cum like new skin. You feel the shockwave tear your nerves open, and then the calm, right on its heels, spreading out from your core to your fingertips, out through the roots of your hair.

"Ah," you exhale, a tight gasp. Yuna takes the entirety of you into her mouth, sucking down your length - harder - as she swallows back a final, sticky load, her own hair sweat-slick to her face.

Just look at the damage: that’s a story not even you’d be able to spin. There's cum on her nose, dribbling past her cheek. On her jaw and on her cheek. Filthy white streaked all over her parted lips, her neck. Down her shoulder blades, and soiling her hair, and leaking down past her collarbones.

(Christ, was this better or worse? You can't even tell. Every version of her that's been served on a plate for you has seen fit to make you sweat.)

When the dust begins to settle, you’re left panting and spent. Yuna, the collateral on this fine, whiny, disaster of a deal. A collection of photos, and some thoughts and ideas, that now sit disheveled on the ground. There's a scathing voice inside your head that's demanding to be heard, reminding you all-too-casually that this is not any way to manage a client. She could snap her fingers, call out to that sycophant at the top floor, and your career would be over - she could do anything she should ever desire.

You know, on a baser level, this, and worse: the duality of the thought. Her tight cunt on your desk, you on your knees; the sharp gasp you can steal from the top of her throat, perhaps when she feels the gentle pressure of teeth around one rosy nipple. The pinch of your thumb and index finger around the other. Her nails down your back in ten angry lines, and the throb in her throat, while you slide the whole width of a hand, rough, over the flesh of her ass.

Maybe the desk, like everything else, can just join the pile on the floor.

"Yuna," you say, the vowels pitching like a sigh.

Her palms find the sharp crease in your pants and slide upward. She's gazing up at you, bright, her face sticky with you.

"You can't send me out like this," she tells you, matter-of-factly, letting a smile cross the lines of her lips - or a smirk. A wordless extension of the previous sentence - of a few.

You pull out and away from her: a white and gray dotted tie hanging loose, unknotted; a button still fastened somewhere mid-center, your trousers pulled off and loose down just below your knees, the fly gaping open. She's in a similar state, the cups of her bra slipping loose, her mouth flushed, lips swollen and red, the outline of how she’d let you use her in a smeary, runny stain across her cheek.

"Maybe let your manager know," you tell her, pulling your belt in place, and you think you catch her eye rolling. "That you're going to be late."

Yuna doesn't hesitate.

"Tell her yourself," she responds, "I'm sure she'll be relieved to hear I'm not actually dead - just having gotten fucked stupid on my PR person's cock."

"I might forget to include a couple details."

"You shouldn’t." Her eyebrows jump. And she's chewing, lazily, on the full curve of her lower lip, her teeth glinting like razors. "Here, before you throw all this to the sharks -"

So, so very dramatic, and with this: her thumbnail pressed beneath your chin. It draws your gaze up - up, and down: from the splay of her legs and the gleam of wetness between them, a brief rest along the arcs of her chest - the room's a total fucking wreck. Your necktie, her skirt, her blouse, her pantyhose. The papers and books all spread, bent, broken, the stack knocked clean onto its side. The skirt's probably still pulled too far up her hips for decency, her breasts shoved up to her neck and the collarbone, and then there's her face - her chin streaked with cum. Yuna smiles then, the corner of her mouth pulled upward.

She might kiss you if you'd let her.

Cum on her lips be damned, she's beautiful like that, like she isn't even trying. And in fact, she never really had to - this girl, she'd do it alone. The idea that someone could be as universally loved as she, is enough, a marvel even, but here she is in front of you, every atom and curve a siren, a study in perfection and composition. Like she’s not just all your mistakes laid out to bear.

"Take a second to take a proper look, hm? Get all the memories in, while they're fresh."

"Because?"

"You can remember I'm only the person you say I am, for you."

"Oh, of course," and the laugh that leaves your throat sounds dry, cracked open. The band of her skirt stretches, snaps back, so neatly that it leaves a pale line on her flesh. And now there are your hands, fitting around her hipbones, a sigh: a short, sudden motion, tugging her up. Yuna gasps: something surprised, delighted. She's all grins and teeth, all clean, bright incisors. 

"Mine," you're breathing, the flat of her stomach underneath the fingers you've placed upon it. "This is mine - you. Yours - you're all mine."

It’s possessive, but, you’re not all incorrect.

"Yeah," she more than agrees. 

There's a ribbon-taut quality in the way it leaves her mouth, the tension in her body coiled up through to the bones. She makes it sound like the beginning of a promise, the beginning of something much larger.

And by the way." She’s still buttoning her shirt. Putting herself together. You’ve seen the triage, the damage control. This is the Yuna you get. 

So, she needs the second - a respite to lick a stray stripe of slick and cum off her wrist - blotting her cheeks with a ball of wet tissue, until all that's left is the smeared lipstick, her stockings splayed around the floor. The pattern you've worn, where your fingerprints would've shown, gets covered up under her skirt and her coat, wrapped up in a scarf.

The smug satisfaction in her tone pulls your focus, just in time, her hair's falling in waves down her shoulders - perfect, but not flawless: there's a creased line, a hint of her throat, just beneath the collar. There's a slight wisp out of place. The buttons aren't arranged all the way from her collar to her sternum.

"I'm going to go with that photoset, with the white top, in the sand - gonna post 'em online and generate some buzz. You even said it yourself: they're fine. " She pauses, pushing away a strand of hair. "Professionally, of course."

"Professionalism." You smile. "Of course."

She walks out carrying the stilettos: pumps in either hand.

"Always. Catch you soon," she promises, and you do catch a last flash of her expression, lips parted, the lower curving into a satisfied smile, right as she flicks the lock on the door open and your office goes back to quiet.

For a split second, it's unbearable: the silence.

And you think again.

She can have anything, get any boy, girl, whoever, any designer, photographer, make-up artist in the world; there's something so unmistakably intoxicating about the fact that the thing she's decided she wants, is you.

[kyoghurts]

LOVER ACTS. mashle headcanon 𞥙୧

˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ being your lover and being in love comes with a habit, sprung from the ground and grows like a flower. MASHLE VARIOUS CHARS have a habit of . . .

ᥫ᭡ MASH BURNEDEAD

. . . resting his chin on your palm at any chance he sees. this guy is so tenderly and quietly affectionate especially in the physical aspect. you might say he’s a bit of a touch starved. he won’t say it, though if you ask him he won’t lie to you either. so whenever you’re both alone and doing insignificant things, you offer your hand for him to plant a small kiss and he’ll just keep his lips on your palm, or rest his chin, looking into your eyes with intensity that tells you so much. you need not ask the gods if he’s meant for you or you’re meant for him. he only has eyes for you, only you.

ᥫ᭡ LANCE CROWN.

. . . playing with your hair. or simply making it a routine to tend to your hair: comb, trim (if it gets too long), braid, and if he’s in the mood to dive more intimate: he’ll wash your hair. he’s like your personal hairdresser, he might as well be, with how good he is at taking care of them. when outside or at class, he’ll absentmindedly brush a few strands off your face or slightly ruffle them. but sometimes it gets annoying for you, and when you try to pry off his hands you’ll have yourself blessed by the airy chuckle you hear from lance. mind you, getting this kind of reaction from your boyfriend occurs once in a blue moon, so, you’ll say nothing. instead, you’ll savor every breath of it and how his hands can be so good to you (and your hair.)

ᥫ᭡ FINN AMES

. . . sending small trinkets. handmade letters, doodles from only half spending his attention to his lecturers, paper cranes, stickers, you know it. you’re pretty sure your room is going to be full with his little stuffs, and he’s not going to hide the sheer happiness he feels whenever he visits you. he’ll ask you where you put them or if he sees it displayed out in the open, he’s going to get all misty about it. and he would want to create more for you for this purpose: to show the contents of his love for you.

ᥫ᭡ DOT BARRETT.

. . . singing you crappy & cheesy love songs. oh i know this man is going to be super annoying and loud but but but— you can tolerate it. why? this guy can sing like he’s destined to step on the stage. it can also be the sole reason why you fell for him, he’s not afraid to express himself. not to you or anyone, whether you’re out in public or private, he will sing to you all the love songs he knows. and from the way you playfully shut him up with light jabs (or if you’re feeling confident in yourself, a quick kiss to his lips), it will be the key that gives way to your feelings. and well, its okay, you’re not afraid to express yourself, either.

ᥫ᭡ LEMON IRVINE

. . . recommending songs & films. even better, you both could listen/watch to it! she’ll be over the moon, painted by glistening stars of happiness, bonus points if you tell her in a novel detailed way on your thoughts after, does it remind you of something? a memory? a feeling? how and why so? you could ramble until the sun comes shining, she’ll never get tired of it, never of you.

ᥫ᭡ RAYNE AMES.

. . . spoiling/treating you with gifts. he’ll come home and there’s not an ounce of surprise written off your face as you see literal shopping bags and what’s funny is that he won’t look at you in the eye, he’s just going to shove it to you and walk away. you could go shopping together and, granted that he is perceptive, he will buy anything that catches your eye for a minute longer. never say no. you will regret it. he’s going to sulk, he’s going to ignore you until you apologize. (in the form of taking and accepting his gifts so yeah, he still wins in the end.) also uh, he also has a habit of nuzzling his head on the crook of your neck hehe :3

ᥫ᭡ ABYSS RAZOR.

. . . gazing at your eyes and complimenting them. i’m pretty sure he’ll also slip a few flowery words on every part of your face, but i will emphasize on the eyes. they’re so captivating to him, they tell a story about a kind soul such as yours, and it reminds him how he’s so loved and seen. and when you tell him he’s the reason the sparkle in your eyes exist? how it softens whenever it connects with his? the world will never know the feeling that abyss has in his heart, and it’s immense—but never heavy, its full, its floating, its beautiful. you’re beautiful, inside and out.

ᥫ᭡ ABEL WALKER.

. . . taking you to a romantic and fancy dinner on a very well-known restaurant with candle lits and everything because he is the absolute elegant of a man and he will treat you the way you deserve to be treated. like the goddamn queen/king that you are. like the goddamn your highness that you are. and when he takes you home, let the moonlight grace your face but let him kiss your lips like the world is about to end. i cannot imagine him acting otherwise. take this hc or leave it.

notes. pops in randomly hi :3 pops out and become inactive for the next few days

© kyoghurts. ★ reblogs & likes are well appreciated!

[chososdiscordkitten]

artist- Yunonoaii on twt

MDNI

Content: CONSENSUAL SOMNOPHILIA. no y/n used or pronouns, satoru is the one sleeping, established relationship, porn without plot, free use, reader has doubts abt somno, oral (m!receiving), satoru is too pretty for his own good, penetrative sex- no detailed desc of readers parts (?), he wakes up, only 1 round before sleep again, no aftercare (?), riding n brief missionary Word count: 2.7k

(a.n)I couldn't get this specific art out of my head while writing this. help me, yuana for president

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Batting your eyes open and feeling the light of the moon illuminate your skin. Pursing your lips and looking over to your sleeping boyfriend. Scanning his face, long white eyelashes that gracefully covered his eyes.

Plump lips parted effortlessly, a strong jawline that made his otherwise soft features pop even more. Looking at his perfectly pointed nose, eyes trailing to the slightly damp lily white hair that delicately rested on his forehead.

The moon lit up the side of his face at just the right angle so that you could see light dandelion like peach fuzz that graced his pale skin.

‘Flawless.’ you thought before sitting up, dangling one of your legs off of the bed and trailing your eyes down to his neck. His bobbing adam's apple when he swallowed lightly, refined collarbones that your hands ached to trace.

Trailing down his bare impressive torso that you knew he took his time crafting. You nodded your head ‘no’ slightly, almost disapproving of how he pretty he looked; even if he was sleeping. Milky long fingers delicately planted on his tummy, eyes going from his perfectly manicured fingernails, to his gaunt knuckles.

Scanning his light happy trail with endearing eyes. 

Tracing your gaze down his sides. Pale velvety thighs that you were envious of at times. Eyes trailing back up to the softened appendage between his plush thighs.

Inhaling sharply as you felt the familiar warmth flood in your belly. Looking away, suddenly remembering the reason you stirred awake. Gently stepping off of the bed and quietly stepping out of the bedroom.

Cold tile hitting the bottoms of your feet, stepping as softly as you could. Not caring that you were nude walking in the dark of his apartment hallway before reaching his kitchen. Humming quietly as you poured from the brita water pitcher he had in his fridge.

Looking from the kitchen island out to the striking skyline from the floor to ceiling windows. Thinking back on all the times he had tried to convince you to fulfill one of his greatest fantasies. 

“I'm just saying- if you were to ever wake me up by riding me? I would be over the moon~” he teased, resting his chin on your shoulder as you cooked breakfast.

“That's so strange- too weird. Even for you, Satoru.” You replied, shaking him off of you as you heard him give you an over dramatic sigh.

“Think about how hot it would be- if you ever told me you wanted that I wouldn't hesitate to do it.” he hummed, pressing his back onto the edge of the island.

You turned around to look at him, “I will-” you smiled sweetly, his expression showing over excitement at those two little words. “-never ask you to do that to me.” You finished, patting his chest with your hand.

Turning around, spatula in hand as he walked over to the living room couches. “And don't pout!” you exclaimed, knowing he already was sulking in the couches.

Even on his birthday, staring at the lit candles on the small cake you had gotten him. “Make a wish~” you hummed, seeing him close his eyes and think about what he wanted,.

“I wish to wake up with my cock in your mouth.” he whispered, blowing out the candles and looking at you with a thrilled smile.

“It won't come true-” you purse your lips looking at him with a deadpan face. Seeing him irk his chin almost asking what you mean. “You said it outloud- so it won't come true.” You teased, plucking off the candles from his over frosted birthday cake.

Three times he asked you to do it, knowing he wouldn't stop asking till you gave him some kind of hope that you'd fulfill his wishes.

And on the third time, you told him you'd think about it. And you did. You spent a good 30 minutes that night thinking on it. Wondering why he found it so appealing to be touched as he slept.

Remembering he said something about how arousing it would be knowing you couldn't wait till he woke up to play.

It was true, you had an adventurous sex life with Satoru, trying anything at least once to know if either of you liked it or not. But this felt off, you didn't know if it was because the only kind of somno you had been exposed to was always some kind of creepy weird fetish that always looked nonconsensual.

But you were sure that you'd never be interested in receiving it. 

To Satoru, he found it appealing thinking if the day ever came; he'd wake up to you doing whatever you wanted to him, knowing he wasn't awake to protest or to tease you.

So riled up and caught up in the moment that you didn't even bother waking him, using him for your own pleasures.

He liked thinking that you found him so attractive that even if he was sleeping- you’d want to fuck him. In his own mind, he was yours, physically, mentally, emotionally, everything he had- he would give you. Yours to use whenever you'd like, rough, gentle, bottom or top.

At times he'd pretend to complain. “I act on your every whim and I can't even put in one request!?” he’d exclaimed with pouty eyes, knowing you were looking at him with a stern face.

“I do almost everything you ask of me, Satoru.” you smiled, being able to hear his feigned frustration in his dramatic sighs.

“It's like- a version of free use-” he'd tell you, knowing how riled up he got even thinking about how you could use him whenever you'd like, and he’d let you. Satoru had spoken about free use with you, it was one of the established things both of you had put the green light on.

This whole ‘biggest fantasy’ of his wasn't a red light to you, it was more of a yellow light. Unsure how to tread through it, or how to go about it really. 

Which is why you found this so conflicting, standing at the doorway of his bedroom. Staring at his sculpture like body, chest rising and falling as he slept peacefully.

Mentally arguing with yourself, morally it would be wrong. But didn't he say he wanted this? All but begging on his hands and knees? And how could you resist when he was sleeping so beautifully? 

Taking quiet steps towards him, standing next to the edge of the bed on his side. Gulping when you saw the light veins on his lower abdomen.

Sitting on the small edge beside him, leaning over and pressing a light kiss on his cheek. Whispering in his ear, “Satoru.” you called out, in hopes he'd wake up. You took your hand and brushed the light strands of hair from his forehead. Catching a glimpse of one of the few imperfections on his skin, one of his least favorite ones. 

Planting a gentle kiss to the scar on his forehead, seeing his eyebrows slightly furrow feeling you.

“Satoru.” you whispered once more, hearing him let out a low hum. Placing a soft kiss to his parted lips, hearing him let out a small huff. Trailing kisses on his features, seeing his eyes tighten when you placed an open mouth kiss on his adams apple.

Reaching his plentiful pecs, placing a wet kiss to the swell of one of them. Looking up and scanning his face to make sure he didn't look unsettled before sticking your tongue out slightly and circling it to his softened nipple.

Hearing him let out a quiet huff at the sudden feeling, knowing how sensitive he was awake. Fully expecting him to be even more reactive while sleeping.

Feeling the pink bud harden in your mouth as you heard more frustrated puffs and light whines from his plush lips. Taking your other hand and pressing your thumb to his other nipple, gently rubbing it against the pad of your thumb.

Throaty moans leaving his lips, looking down and seeing his soft cock slightly jump when you flicked your tongue against him. Pulling your lips and hand from his chest as you sat up, scanning his face to see if there were any signs of him being awake. “Toru-” you whispered, seeing his eyebrows furrow at the lack of stimulation to his chest. 

You slightly shifted down the bed, hands grazing his fair thighs. Eye to eye with his flaccid cock, hearing him let out a dissatisfied whine when you let out a sigh that hit his tip directly. You parted your lips slightly, leaning in with eyes looking up his torso. Being able to smell the floral body wash he had used before going to bed.

Taking an experimental lick at his pale shaft, scanning his expression for any discomfort. Finding none before licking a long stripe from his tip to his base. Seeing his upper torso shift slightly with a light blush appearing on his cheeks. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth when you saw his cock twitch. 

Placing an opened mouth kiss on his light pink tip, hearing a light gasp fall from his lips. Gentle hand on his thigh for balance as you blinked. Wrapping your lips around his tip, seeing his closed eyes scrunch at the feeling with a quiet moan.

Already being able to feel his cock hardening, slowly pushing past his tip. Small whines from Satoru as his tip brushed against the roof of your mouth. Dragging his stiffening member back out of your mouth, wrapping your lips around his tip as swirling your tongue at the small opening of his cock. Taking your free hand and grazing the tips of your fingers against his balls. Seeing him purse his lips slightly at the new feeling.

Rosy cheeks deepened as he squirmed, sliding your lips tightly off his tip. Blinking your eyes to his half hard cock, placing wet opened mouth kisses down his shaft. A small tear fell from his tip as he shuddered, kissing back up to his tip. Gasping lightly when you saw he was fully hard, “Oh ‘Toru~” you cooed, admiring his expression.

Pinching your eyebrows together, seeing his back slightly arching. The warmth between your thighs felt too evident right now, slowly shifting from the bottom of the bed onto your knees.

Lifting one leg and tossing it to the other side of him. Looking down at his heaving chest, eyebrows pinched as your hands grazed his ribs. His cock stood at attention, slightly pressing against your tummy. Satoru turned his face- almost feeling your gaze on his skin.

His lower body shifting beneath you, you took one hand to his cock; raising yourself higher before lining him up with your entrance. Eyes scanning his tense face. Seeing how pretty he looked this way, furrowed eyebrows and pink cheeks.

Light film of sweat on his forehead and pouty lips. Frustrated hands not knowing what to do- what to grab onto, one trying to grasp the sheets. The other on his chest trying to soothe the itch he felt in that moment, hand inches away from your own.

You pressed his tip to your sopping entrance, gasping as you took a snail's pace lowering yourself onto him. Not needing any prep, recalling the way he slammed into you mercilessly earlier. Showing you just how much he had missed you when he was away.

One of the reasons why you were fulfilling his wish, to show him just how you had missed him too. Satoru’s face churned as you lowered yourself onto him slowly. Hand planted on his sternum firmly, Satoru’s yearning hand grazing your fingers. Seeing him part his lips with a low whine, his head pushing itself back into the pillows as you felt his tip brush past that special spot he liked to exploit.

You let out a frustrated whine, eyes blinking over to see his other hand is gripping the sheets firmly. You exhaled breathlessly, thighs already shaking from how slow you were going.

His cock now fully inside of you, a gasp left your lips. Biting into your lip trying to quiet your own moans, heavy breathing coming from Satoru as shameless whines fell from him. Dragging his cock slowly out of you, closing your eyes as you felt him twitch inside of you.

Taking your hand and pressing the back of it to your lips as you slid down him, the hand that was atop yours now lightly gripping your wrist. Trying his very best to soothe the ache he felt between his legs. 

Pulling yourself up as a smile formed on your lips, sinking yourself down quicker. A loud whine falling from your lips without permission. Snapping your head down to see if Satoru had heard it as loud as you did. Slack jawed with a bead of sweat falling from his temple.

“Mm- fuck.” you gasped, feeling how deep his cock was nuzzled inside of you. Closing your eyes and tipping your head back as you fucked yourself, feeling the hand that was clutched on the sheets reach up to your thigh.

Hearing a small mutter as you ground yourself on him, thumb caressing your thigh as his eyes blinked open. You were so focused on staying quiet and not fucking yourself at the speed you wanted to not wake him. 

Frustrated exhale from his lips when the image of you lightly bouncing on him graced his half open eyes, focusing on your own pleasure before his. Sweet smile formed on his lips when he heard the stifled moans falling from you.

With a sharp inhale, you looked down, feeling his cock somehow go deeper inside of you. Seeing he was looking up at you with hazy eyes. “M’sorry-” you gasped, feeling his hand on your thigh roam up to your hip. Slowly grinding yourself back and forth as you let out noisier whines.

A string of quiet apologies leaving your lips for waking him up. Only small gasps were heard from him as he tried to shake off the hazy feeling. 

Satoru’s hand was trying its best to guide you to grind quicker, feeling your hips stutter against him. His grip strengthening on your side, closing his eyes and throwing his head back onto the pillow.

Now panting as you ground yourself quicker against him, “S-so pretty ‘Toru-” you gasped. Leaning down and pressing an opened mouth kiss to his neck, a whimper falling from his lips from your praise. Holding the side of his neck as you felt him guide you at the speed he wanted.

Both of his hands now on your hips, trying their best to get you to move quicker. Feeling himself unravel slowly by your touches. The more Satoru shook off the foggy feeling, the closer he felt himself come to the realization of what you were doing.

Unashamed whimpers directly in your ear as he mumbled a quiet, ‘M’cumming-’. Chest to chest as you pulled away from his neck, looking directly into his half lidded eyes. Looking at you slack jawed and blushed before you pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips.

He didn't feel he was deep enough inside of you, the need to be nestled fully inside of you was strong. A loud groan left into your mouth as Satoru gathered all the strength he could. With one swift motion, your back hit the sheets.

Eye to eye as he thrusted into you sloppily, gasping when you felt how deep he was thrusting into you. Pulling his lips from you and pressing his forehead to yours. For the first time, Satoru was silent, apart from his quiet whimpers; usually being all too talkative during sex. Now he found himself wordless, be it the fog in his brain or how you hugged his cock.

Gripping the sides of his neck as he thrusted out of you, inhaling sharply before thrusting into you once more. Making sure to get as deep as he could, pulling out quickly before snapping his hips back into you. Muffled whines from your lips as he let out a shivering groan, clenching his teeth together as he felt himself come undone. His warmth seeping inside of you as his arms struggled to keep himself propped up.

Placing a sloppy kiss to his open lips as he collapsed on top of you. Satoru’s head resting beside your neck as your hands found their way to his back. Holding him closer to your skin, Satoru’s eyes blinking shut slowly.

“Thank you-” he muttered against your skin, his back rising and falling slowed as he came down from his high. Hands rubbing small circles on his back to soothe the shivers that rumbled through him as he fell back to sleep.

-

I couldn't stop thinking about this. FINALLY I write something under 3k words. kk now im goin to work.