#my first fic yay!

[viktoriaashleyyx]

This is a pro Tamlin, anti Rhysand self insert revenge fic. All characters belong to SJM, but she wasn't treating them right. Tam x reader, Tam x Rhysands Sister (OC), First person narrative. This will also reference Elucien and Neris in the future but we aren't there yet. Contains slight violence, poisons, broken bones. Also profanity. I'm not sure what else to tw if I miss something let me know. This is my first fic. I honestly don't know how to find word count, but it's roughly 4 pages on word docs. Criticism welcome. Rhysands Sister is back and she's pissed. Rhysand gets his ass whooped and Tamlin gets shown love. Enjoy.

Ch 2. Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7 Ch8 Ch9 Ch10

Tarquin BC

Chapter 1:

I crash landed on a stone surface. A balcony of sorts? It was well built if it was, considering how long I've been falling, I'm shocked I didn't crash right through it. I know now that making a deal with the gods is a lot like making a deal with a damn djin. 

“Who goes there??��� A booming male voice barked. I could hear swords drawn. Fuck where am I? My ears were still ringing, vision blurred, and chest heavy from the impact. I blinked my eyes open to find a winged male looming over me. Another illyrian? Have I finally made it home? Fuck, then that means I am in the night court. Damnit, 7 fucking courts in Prythia and I just happen to land here. At my brother's court. 

This ones expression shifted from threatening to complete shock as his gaze landed on my eyes. “Sky?” 

At my brother's court and at his fucking house, Freya has a sick sense of humor. I slowly sat up, ignoring the hand the illyrian extended to me. 

“Your wing!” He gasped. So thats what that throbbing pain was. My wing seemed to have been snapped in the fall. “You need a healer, go get Madja” he commanded the other brute. 

“Don't bother” I dismissed, standing up slowly. I pulled a small glass vial out of my pocket, a healing potion, I always kept a few on hand, never know when you're gonna need it. I downed the bitter red liquid as I've done a thousand times and grabbed the dagger off my hip. I put the handle in my mouth and bit down on it as I grabbed my own wing and straightened out the bone. I held it right for about a minute until the potion worked its magic. It hurt like crazy but I was careful not to show these idiots, the fear and shock on their faces was satisfying if I am being honest. 

“I'm guessing you are Azriel and Cassian, though I can't tell which is which” I admitted, trying to seem just polite enough to leave. 

The one next to me spoke first “I'm Azriel, he's Cassian” okay, Azriel short hair, Cassian long hair “this is Mor and Amren and she is Feyre, High Lady of the Night Court” 

“So my brother is dead?” I had hoped my excitement would come off as concern. 

“No, no, they rule together, as equals” Cassian spoke

“Got it” this conversation is dragging. I need to leave. 

“It's so nice to meet Rhysands sister, we thought you were dead, I'd heard so much about you” Feyre gushed, “Rhys is out on important business at the moment but he should be back soon.” I had no use or interest in this small talk. 

“How old are you?” I looked at her as if to study the young thing in front of me. I was never good at pleasantries. I spent a good while in isolation and I tend to just blurt out the questions on my mind. 

“I am 21” Feyre replied sharply, yep I angered her with my lack of class. 

“Ew, 21 years? Ugh, my brother always did like them unreasonably young.” I'm just gonna keep going with it, hopefully she'll throw me out. 

“My age is not a disability” Feyre snapped. 

“It's adorable that you think that.” I'm in too deep. Oops. “Anyway, I am sorry I crashed into your home, I had little control, but I would like to leave now.” 

“You will apologize and bow to your high lady.” Cassian growled. Azriel stepped in front of the door. 

“She is not my high lady, I am not a citizen of your court, in fact, I am starting to feel like a prisoner.” It's not lost on me that I have bore the title of Queen, multiple times. In both cases I have dismantled the monarchy entirely, setting up a system in which the people vote on who leads them. Her title meant nothing to me. I bow to those deserving, not the one who rely solely on birthright. But she doesn't need to know this. I have more important things on my mind than to argue with a child "I will request one more time, you move and allow me to leave.” 

“Or what?” Azriel snapped. Unmoving. 

I did not want to show this much of my hand just yet, knowing this magic is not native to Prythia. But, if they want to twist my arm, so be it. A swirling purple circle opened up under me and I fell though, closing it quickly behind me. Portals were my favorite magic to do, in more cases than once it ensured my freedom.

Landing softly on my feet, I took in my surroundings. Cool air, rolling green hills, and the sounds of birds chirping in the distance, the Spring court. I was finally home. I eventually spotted the manor I spent so much of my time at as a child. Mother didn't make me train with the illyrians as she did my brother because she feared the treatment I would receive, also by the time I came along she had befriended the ladies of the other courts. We would spend weeks here at times, the children would play together and the mothers would discuss adult things we didn't care about. One of those things being alliances, and what better way to encourage an alliance between Spring and Night than by an arranged marriage.

I didn't mind them encouraging me to play with the cute blonde shapeshifter. He was kind and silly and only a couple years older than me. The other kids, mainly Autumn boys, were rough and volatile, and I just had no interest in what they considered fun. When I would get flustered by my wings knocking things over and getting in the way, the youngest Spring boy would remind me how beautiful they were, or how powerful they made me. The few times he would get a chance to practice his fiddle, I would dance and twirl, even if it was just the arpeggios. He was the 3rd born, and I the second and a girl, they didn't expect either of us to become High lord. 

The manor was about a mile away, I shot up another portal to the door, I was tired after all and, if I'm being honest, a little excited to be back.

When I reached the door it was broken in half and wide open. I creeped inside, cautiously. It looked to be abandoned. Dirt and dust coated the walls and floors, priceless artifacts shattered and books thrown from the shelves. I noticed claw marks in the furniture. “Please just be alive, after everything, I can’t be too late.” I whispered to myself. My heart sank as I looked around. 

Further into the dilapidated manor, I heard muffled voices coming from the kitchen. “Get out.” a tired weak growl. I ran to the entrance and just as I rounded the corner I saw my brother's boot kick in the chest of.. Tamlin. He began spitting up blood. 

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?” I hissed at my brother. 

Rhysand whipped around towards me, Tamlin looked up from the floor, eyes wide. 

“You're alive??” Rhysand darted towards me and I shoved him to the ground, rushing to Tamlins side. I knelt down beside him, held his head up from where he laid on the floor and pulled another glass vial out of my pocket. 

“It'll be bitter but swallow” I commanded gently. He didn't argue, he took the healing potion and I kissed his forehead as I laid him back down gently to address my brother. 

I stood tall. Nothing but pure rage in my violet eyes toward my brother. I always hated how much we looked alike. “THIS is the ‘important business’ you told your wife you had to take care of?” 

“I thought he killed you, he hurt my mate.” Rhysand admitted, no remorse. 

“And I finally make it back home after 300 years in exile to find you kicking mine” I state through gritted teeth. 

Rhysands eyes narrowed “your what?” It was obvious he wanted me to retract my statement, not going to happen. I didn't waste my time away, I knew I was more powerful than all of Prythia, I had to be, in case I had returned to Amarantha still terrorizing the place. 

“You heard me.” I maintained his gaze. In a split second he lunged for me and I reached my hand out into the small portal that appeared to my side. I grabbed one of the curved blades I was gifted by the warriors I previously trained with. These blades were specifically enchanted to drip poisons into the wounds they create. This one? Bloodbane, or as Prythians call it, “Faebane.” I slashed him across the face in a controlled move, just enough to leave a scar and allow the poison to sink in. 

He screamed in pain and looked back up at me. My eyes fell entirely black and cracks formed across my face as I spit my curse at him, lifting up his chin with my sword to make him look me in the eye “IF YOU, OR ANY OF YOUR LACKEYS, ENTER THE SPRING COURT BORDERS AGAIN, ALL OF THE AIR WILL BE DRAWN FROM YOUR LUNGS, AND IF YOU CANNOT GET OUT BEFORE YOU PASS OUT WE WILL FEED YOUR BODIES TO THE PIGS.” I relaxed, my face returning to normal. “Now get out.” A portal opened below him and he fell, leaving him only halfway up the steps to the House of Wind. 

I turned my attention back to Tamlin, he had sat up, the healing potion having done its job, looking up at me with a million different emotions on his face, shock, fear, concern, confusion and relief. I sat down next to him, draping my legs over his. He embraced me like I was going to disappear any minute. “You're alive. Or I am dead, I do not care as long as I have you in my arms again.” he sighed as we just sat there on the floor. 

I awoke the daemati powers I hardly used as I pressed my forehead to his. A gentle knock on the walls of his mind, and he allowed me in. I shared the memories I held dear for all these years, of us playing in the fields of Spring, the days he would spend with me in the gallery his mother gifted me, watching me paint, the mischief we would get into and the giggles we would share. His face relaxed into a soft smile as I kissed his cheek.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

@ladythornofrivia asked to be tagged❤️

[novacqnes]

✩ sore loser // vi

summary: with an undefeated streak of nine wins victory is sweet for pitfighter!vi, but losing can be even sweeter.

⋆ warnings: pitfighter!vi, brief mentions of blood, alcohol & violence, smut; oral, squirting & fingering [fem receiving], top!vi

⋆ pairing: vi x fem reader

⋆word count: 2.4k

⋆ a/n: stop the vi hate, she’s so hot and sexy and kind, i forbid it!

nails scraped feverishly against the scarred skin of vi’s arm. needy and sharp, they littered the rough surface, leaving behind deep pink crescents with each touch. back and forth, back and forth, they dug into her flesh almost mechanically as she remained fixed between your thighs. desperately bringing her tongue against your wet clit. she lapped up your fluids, allowing her soft lips to slide against your pussy effortlessly as you shook against her, fighting through a blurred haze. fiery tears crept from your eyes; one by one they surged forward, setting your cheeks aflame along with the rest of your body. it took everything—every last drop of unbearable desire and greed—to steal a glance at vi. 

slivers of jet black and red hairs clung to the crown of her forehead. her features were frozen; misty blue eyes caught on you. she wanted more, eager for it, as every aspect of your being entranced this woman. your taste lingered on her tongue as she sank back in for more, drawing desperate whines from your lips. your smell, sugary and thick, filled the room just the way she liked, overwhelming all her senses. or the way you moved against her, jerking your body with each flick of her tongue against your folds. down to the cries—your cries, which were lewd and slick, permeating the humid air around you. allowing her this small fragment in time where she could truly win.

her knees hit the ground first, a loud thud rang through your ears as vi sank onto the blood-stained concrete. her hands found their way there next, gripping onto the ground as they fought for an ounce of stability among the animalistic screams. they pierced the putrid air, trapping your body in the middle as hundreds of people pushed against you. they demanded she rise and fight for the very status that had left her undefeated for weeks, but she didn’t move. rather she pressed her eyes close, shutting out the light, her opponent’s bashed face, and any possible connection you may have had to her. her heart pounded against her chest, pleading with her to breathe, to no avail. 

a crushing weight pressed against vi’s chest, forcefully expelling the air from her body. every one of her muscles begged for her to stop. she slid forward, a gasp crawling up her lungs as a wave of agony consumed her. she could shrug off pain. she’d done it many times before, but each movement left her with that same dreadful sensation. her mind and body vied for two opposing sides, both resulting in her losing this match, yet she was relentless. her fingers scrapped the ground as she pulled herself up in one swift motion, violently suppressing the nerves that writhed in her stomach. once more, violet brought her arms to her side, guarding her face as she swung a bruised fist at her opponent. 

the white sheets felt damp in your palms, providing a gentle substitute for vi’s skin. in your hands it compressed, shrinking with each stroke of vi’s thumb against your clit. the pressure was light at first, growing more fervent by the second. she pressed a soft kiss to your thigh, her breath warm as she moved up hovering over your pussy. she lingered for a moment, teasing you with the slightest bit of contact before pulling away. tension bloomed at the pit of your stomach, taking hold of your hips and drawing you to vi’s mouth— begging her to come closer. your movements were shaky; you wouldn’t be able to hold for much longer, but vi had to let it. she gazed up at your body, a mumbling mess covered in a thin film of sweat at her efforts. it gave her satisfaction beyond any victory in the pit; this was just for her.

“fuck—t-there still may be a follow-up—you can try again,” you moaned, vi slipping a finger inside you. she curled them sharply as she leaned forward, gently pressing her lips to yours. 

she began slow; you leaned into vi’s warmth, savoring the taste that lingered on her tongue. euphoric was an understatement. this was everything vi was lacking, splayed out across her flimsy mattress. there was something about your pleasure being in her hands that pulled the best from her—and it wasn’t a matter of control. whether it was you on that bed or her, vi adored the fact that it was with someone. her fights were isolating, in spite of the dozens of people that filled the pit each night. they weren’t fighting with her—but right here you were.

“they don’t wanna see me, sweetheart.”

“violet—“she spat against your core, moving down until her lips met your pussy. her tongue traced against your folds, flicking up and down as her index finger moved in and out. she soon slipped in a second, third, and fourth, sinking them inside your cunt at an unfathomable pace. her body showed no signs of slowing down. thick veins bulged from her forearm, and splotches of pink colored her cheeks, but she was on overdrive. determination clouded her senses, erasing any semblance of pain that arose in her. 

she muttered into you, “i’m good right here, just relax for me, yeah?” her voice was silky smooth, with sultry lined at the very top of it. she kept your legs open, solidifying her place between them as she hummed, furiously lapping at your clit. she smacked obnoxiously, pressing herself deeper and deeper into you until you had no choice but to make more room for her. and your hands acted first. they snaked their way around your hamstrings, forcing each leg to your sides as vi hummed in praise, sending a soft vibration up your core. 

the pleasure was beyond words, propelling you to an alternate realm as you pulsed around vi’s fingers, sucking them in with each charged stroke. she molded to you perfectly, pressing against the spongy tissue of your g-spot for as long as she could. it was evident; every fiber of her being was in this room, pushing you towards ecstasy. soon, black dots crept into your vision, distorting vi from your view, and before long your eyelids followed suit, shutting the rest of the room from you. 

“oh you’ve such pretty eyes, keep them here, right here,” she cooed. that fucking tone. so gentle and attentive it was nauseating. her gaze was unwavering; as if this wasn’t enough, she refused to look away from you, forcing your eyes to the glassy wetness smeared across her face. those eyes—they latched onto you, urging you to watch your girlfriend sink herself nose deep into you over and over again. the pressure magnified with each brush of vi’s lips against your clit. 

the words were trapped in your throat, “fuck vi—oh“ halting as you rapidly began to unravel. your gaze finally broke from hers, pulling your eyes to the feeble ceiling lights. a string of profanities fell from your lips as you shook against her mouth, surrendering to the adrenaline that mercilessly ripped through your body. 

“you don’t know what you do to me... so needy and beautiful. push yourself back on to me,” vi whispered, her voice dropping to a dangerously low octave. it sent a shiver up your spine, as the sensitivity followed. the pleasure bordered on overstimulation, but to say you wanted it to end would’ve been a lie. the sensations were purely addictive, bringing your body to her lips while in the same breath employing your hand to block her. making sense of it in the moment was nearly impossible thus, it took everything in you not to faint right then.

you gasped, “i-can’t—“

“move your hand y/n, let me hear it sweetheart.” 

vi’s brows furrowed slightly, dipping down as her eyes landed on your fingers, shakily obscuring her view. she watched as they moved mere inches, pausing at your lower stomach. she brought a hand to them, softly caressing your skin with her thumb, and carefully noting how you shuddered, whining at the slightest hint of contact. you were close, yes, but this couldn’t be rushed. 

vi moved from your legs, pressing her pink lips to your neck as she toyed with your clit, rubbing slow torturous circles into you. she kept a steady pace, not budging even when you grinded against her. rather she peppered your clavicle with kisses, running her tongue along the tender skin of your exposed neck. heat simmered at your cheeks, consuming the rest of your face as vi wielded your pleasure for her own satisfaction. every whine and gasp served to fuel what was left of her tattered ego. the control intoxicated her, restoring vi with a confidence that she hadn’t experienced since she set foot in the pit.

yet it was also about you—pleasing you—that drove violet insane. her body was quickly approaching its limit; it ached with dark purple bruises that covered her knees and fingers that were raw from the constant friction of bandages. vi adored this. she fell in love with the idea of giving every last bit of what she had to offer, and after her loss, she was destined to prove that even more. 

“holy shit,” you muttered, pressing your forehead against hers. desperation oozed from your voice as you cupped vi’s face in your palm. beyond your voice, the surrender was palpable. heavy eyelids shielded most of your eye, leaving visible only small glints of pigment. it grew increasingly difficult to focus on her but the same couldn’t be said for vi. she pushed the black strands from her face leaning against you as she picked up the pace. adding more and more pressure to the bundle of nerves—but it wasn’t enough. she would move her arm, delicately flexing the muscles in her forearm in restraint. her mouth would hover over your ear, teasing you with her tongue. she used it against you deliciously, following the long veins that trailed your neck until you were a whimpering mess. it was a tireless endeavor that vi trekked for hours. all of her efforts culminating in this one moment before ruining it all with a sudden halt. 

“vi please—“ 

she shook her head. “beg, baby.”

“please let me cum for you.” weakly you took her hands in yours, moving them from your clit, you slurred, “i wanna cum all over you.

she laid a soft kiss on your cheek, slipping her index back as you wrapped around her beautifully, blanketing her skin in a unique warmth that drew a gasp hum from vi’s lips. she curved them upward, meeting your g-spot once again. you shifted underneath her body, moaning into her ear completely unabashed. the anticipation reveled inside you with vi building on her speed. sweat dripped from her temples, sticking the dark black strands to her forehead. slowly, she came undone with you. her jagged breaths began to match yours, and her movements were growing more and more shallow.

streams of euphoria rifled through your body as the pit returned at the bottom of your stomach, paralyzing you from the waist down. torturously vi’s fingers met your g-spot, prodding and teasing the surface. your heart continued to race, beating out of your chest until it was the only thing that vi could hear; your moans slowly taking a backseat. limb by limb, the heat consumed you, leaving you victim to the overwhelming pleasure that began at your pussy, sending the rest of your body into a tailspin. 

she egged you on, “just like that, sweetheart, fuck, just like that." you could no longer make out vi’s beautiful face; the slight curve of her cheek was faint along with the rest of her features as you writhed against her. quickly losing control of the autonomy you once had. the pit within your stomach only sped up the process, bringing tears to your eyes as you cried, sinking your nails into the mattress. with one last thrust of vi’s finger, fluids rushed from your pussy, soaking the sheets underneath you in one swift motion. you were falling, silently surrendering to the emotions that took hold of your body. for that time, your body wasn’t entirely your own but a vehicle that only vi could steer. 

she took her place beside you, wrapping her arms around your waist as a pervasive silence fell upon the room. her hands soothingly rubbed the skin of your thigh, almost lulling you to sleep as the bright lights faded from view. you could feel her slowly succumbing to fatigue yet she moved closer, snuggling against your back. 

you tapped her arm, “hey, you did your best.”

“that’s what scares me,” she shrugged. there was always this slight divide between vi and what she did in the pit. you could see it. it was draining, extracting every bit of light from vi’s soul like an eternal vacuum. if anything, you were slightly grateful for this loss; it alleviated some of the pressure that burdened her, yet this wasn’t enough to put an end to it. truly the only person that could pry vi away from this place was herself. 

you turned to face her, “maybe that means it’s time to stop.” 

vi pressed her lips shut, her blue eyes briefly meeting the ceiling before falling back on you.

“if not, then you’ll probably lose again, which totally sucks but I’ll be here when you do,” you sighed. she allowed your hands to roam her sculpted arms. thumb tracing the ink etched into her tricep. uncertainty steadily filled the room as you both sat in silence, taking in the sight of one another. it offered you a slight glimmer of hope beyond the pit, a hope for a brighter future. one in which vi could simply be, without tirelessly fighting to prove her worth in every fight. she was worthy of love, and hopefully this moment of you two merely admiring each other was enough to begin that process. 

“i’ll make sure to lose each time then,” she chuckled, jumping up from the mattress. a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, but you refrained from pointing it out, basking in the joy that settled over your girlfriend. it was small moments like these that made it all worth it. 

you began, “that’s not what i meant—“

“i’ll go check out that follow-up fight; you stay right here.”

[hinamie]

hi!! I love your art and the jjk atla au has grabbed my brain in Ways That I Cannot Explain. i love them sm. also ty for the inuokko promise, bc trust they are my favorite ship ever (sorry itafushi, you guys are second place). i wish you well in the process and hope that everything goes smoothly for you!!!!

!!! thank u so much I'm happy u like my art and our little passion project <3 <3 <3

also. hm . inuokko u say :>

pov u look up and u see this ^

jjk atla!au with @philosophiums

[jadeoru]

LOVER, PLEASE STAY.

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: satoru gojo, 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: reader.

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: fluff, comfort -- wc: 3k

𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓: being the strongest has an indescribable amount of pros, but it's outweighed by its cons. with such an honor, satoru finds himself unable to open up to you; thinking it would make him weak.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒: fem!reader (gojo refers to u as gf) hurt/comfort, this is sad :[, pet names (baby, pretty, etc), crying (gojo), gojo being a dumbass and not communicating his feelings, kissing, poor gojo just wants a peaceful life with his gf, probably (definitely) ooc, overall just comfort bc I'm GRIEVING and he needs a hug i think a hug could fix him

you always felt safe when you were with satoru. no matter where you were, or what he was doing, if you called him he’d be there in seconds. maybe it was because he was the strongest, or maybe it was because he truly cared, but you always felt at ease around him. you could tell him anything with no fear of being judged (well, even just teased a little bit). regardless, he was always there for you, and you were so caught up in how he always checked in on you; always making sure you were okay, that you forgot to ask him the same. it wasn’t until when suguru geto left that you realised that beneath it all, satoru gojo was a really fragile man; your realisation solidified when you found him like this. you came home from work earlier than usual, opening the door with exhausted gratitude to finally be home, but, you were greeted with silence. huh. usually, when you got home you were bombarded with affection from the moment you stepped inside; barely one step through the door and he was at your heel like a dog that had been waiting for its owner to return. but now was different. It was eerily quiet compared to every other day. was he even home?

“satoru?” you called out into the hallway, it lingered in the air, until it faded out with no response. ‘weird, maybe he’s asleep or something.’ - it’s a stupid thought, considering how at this time, he’s usually (always) going through/recovering from a huge sugar rush, but it was the only thought that made sense. you took your coat off and placed it on the coat rack, quickly discarding your shoes and placing your bag on the counter before beginning the hunt for your boyfriend.

as you went from room to room, hallway to hallway, you couldn’t help but notice the unsettling feeling of emptiness that replaced his absence. as your search dragged on, you struggled to adjust to the growing pit in your stomach. did someone get him? no. there’s no way. he’s the strongest. you shouldn’t have to worry about that; he said so himself. but, still, you couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that maybe something did happen. you were so caught up in your thoughts, you almost missed the sound that came from your shared bedroom. almost. it stopped you dead in your tracks; prompting you to quietly make your way to the source of the sound; pressing your ear against the door.  that’s when you heard it again. a quiet; muffled noise. it sounded like sniffling. you almost crashed through the door and face-planted into the carpet when you realised what was happening. was he crying? your hands hesitated around the doorknob, before pulling it open. luckily, you regained your composure the moment the door flung open.

there he was: sitting on the edge of your shared bed, his hands gripping the bedsheets with some sort of desperation; a futile way of grounding himself. his head was down, looking at his knees. almost instantly, his head snapped back to yours. if it weren’t for the blindfold obscuring half of his face, you could’ve probably identified what was happening. or at least, you would’ve gotten a brief idea. for now, all you had was a theory; a thought, that maybe, just maybe, your boyfriend was crying. but how could you make sure of it? hell, you’re talking about satoru gojo; the most stubborn man alive. out of all the years you’d known him, never once had he opened up to you; let alone expressed feeling anything about being even the tiniest bit weak.

“you’re home early.” his voice interrupted your thoughts. it wasn’t as enthusiastic as it usually was, most signs of genuine joy were nowhere to be heard; instead it was laced with faux-optimism. shutting the door behind you, you walked towards the bed and took a seat next to him -taking note of how he didn’t attempt to get his usual ‘welcome home kiss’. while, yes, it’s strange, satoru always made sure to kiss you whenever you got home. treating the act as if it were some sort of ritual, or tradition. but now? he didn’t even try. yeah, he was looking at you, and smiling-(fakely), but there was no way he was actually happy. “yeah, my boss finally freed me from my office. he was complaining about always letting me off early, but i was too busy packing my things and getting the hell outta there to listen.” you chuckled, trying to lighten his mood, even if only by a bit. “yeah? old man finally stopped making you his personal servant?” his voice sounded weak, as if the act of speaking was one of the hardest difficulties he had to endure. you nodded, “yeah, finally.” the room fell silent after you spoke. you could hear the cars driving by outside, and the rain pattering against the window, dancing rhythmically in the air.  there was nothing else to be said. it was unsettling, if anything. silence was something long forgotten when in his presence. you almost had to double check to make sure that was actually satoru beside you, and not some sort of alien. the situation was so… awkward? conversation was attempted, but it didn’t flow as easily as it always did. it was so unlike him, and it was tearing you apart from the inside. your heart panged with distress; slowly unravelling from within you. there was no denying it anymore, the man that sat beside you, who suddenly found staring at the blank wall very interesting, (or at least, in that direction. - blindfold, and whatnot) your satoru, needed help.

and now, you accepted the task that was getting satoru gojo to open up about his emotions. you shifted in your side of the bed, fiddling with your fingers as you searched for something to say, silently hoping that the right words would come to you if you tried hard enough. "you okay?” - not the most poetic and comforting thing, but it was tried and true. “ you know you can talk to me about anything, right?" you asked, your voice soft and caring; each word laced with pure love. he chuckled, "what makes you say that?" he asked, blissfully unaware of how obvious he was being. you noted how he avoided your gaze, instead continuing to focus on the wall in front of you. "you've just been acting a bit distant lately, and you seem upset. I know how you hate talking about your feelings and stuff.. but I've just been worried." you said, leaning into his shoulder. he smiled, without a trace of cockiness. "I'm fine, pretty. you don't need to worry about me - you never do." he added the last part with a bit of hesitancy. because, deep down he knew he was lying. he was lying to you, and to himself. he knew he should open up to you. he knew that if he did, you'd be there for him, supporting him with open arms. but he was scared, petrified. he didnt even know why. it was as if the act of letting out each feeling and thought, releasing the growing balloon of responsibility and insecurity into the open air, would enervate him; make him weak. he was washed away by a wave of shame. if he wasn't constantly the strongest, the bravest, never sad, never worried, perfect boyfriend, then who was? who would take his place? there was something about opening up to you that made him feel weak. like, if he let his confident, fearless facade down, you would turn your head away in disgust.

he knew that he needed help. but the act of letting out each and every vulnerability that he held delicately within him was bordering the line of impossible. he clung onto his title as ‘the strongest’, as if it were the one thing that defined him.

"satoru." you almost whispered, "not a single person on earth lives their life without a voice in their head bringing them down." you began. your hand slid across the white bedsheets until it met with his; resting your hand on top of his. "feeling sad doesn't alienate you from others. it's a normal thing. 

you slowly hovered your other hand above his face, nervously, before you pulled his blindfold down. his eyes were as enchanting as they had always been, but now, they were decorated with tears.

you were right, he was crying. although this was exactly what you had expected to see, the reality was a lot harder to process than you thought.

shockingly enough, that was the first time you had ever seen him cry.

behind the teasing and flirting, all the cocky, boastful comments, was a man full of fear. while, yes, being the strongest had its perks, it was outweighed by an indescribable number of cons; because of his status as the strongest, he always had a bunch of expectations that he had to meet at all times. perfect people couldn't have flaws - that's why they were perfect. he also had to deal with the fact that due to his role in life, eyes on him at all times, you were the second target. when being tasked with the goal of taking down the satoru gojo, their target was always either him or you. everyone with common sense could see how much you meant to him, which meant you would also fall victim to the attempts of taking down the honoured one. he hated it; how he never had a say in the matter - how he was born into greatness. all he wanted was a quiet, safe life with you; a goal he could never reach. it's not like he regrets dating you, it’s just that he hated to have to put you through this.

his cheeks shimmered from the wetness pooling around his eyes, a sight so unlikely you felt overwhelmed by sympathy. it hurt you, both physically and mentally, to see him like this. you felt ashamed of how you hadn’t questioned him sooner, that you hadn’t helped to put the problem at ease before it got out of hand. without saying a word, you scooted closer to him, and pulled him into your chest. he remained perfectly still at the action. the hand that was on his own quickly moved to his hair, running your fingers through it just the way he liked it, the way only you knew how to do. 

“even if you don’t wanna talk, i’m here for you, ‘toru.” the tone of your voice was similar to that of honey; a syrupy sweet kindness, that gojo was sure would rot his teeth if he had too much, but he had a sweet tooth unlike no other.“- i just want you to know that it would be so much easier if you let me know what was going on in that pretty head of yours.” you continued. he nodded, knowing that you were right. he nudged himself closer to you, burying his face into your chest, once again concealing the sadness he had spiralled into. “take all the time you need, ‘toru. i’m not going anywhere.” if that wasn’t enough support, you continued, “even if we stay like this till the sun comes up, if you still aren’t ready to talk, i’ll keep waiting.” you pressed a kiss to the top of his head, to which he let out a strange choking sort of sound in response. It sounded like an exasperated chuckle. “what did i do to deserve you.” he muttered, turning his head as he spoke so his words weren’t muffled by your chest. you held him even tighter, if that was even possible. with a smile as soft as your hold on him, you burrowed your face in his hair, mumbling a quiet “i love you,” which didn’t  land on empty ears. he heard every word, and clung to each syllable that left your lips like they were a lifeboat, and he was lost at sea. you scooped him up like an angel and he found himself replaying those three words over and over again in his mind. he realised that, despite his strength, you made him the strongest. your constant love and support, like water to a plant, helps him achieve his full potential. how could he ever repay you for all that you do to him? 

you hear fabric rustling as he shifts around, tilting his head to the side yet again. “i’ll do anything for you , so… um.. promise me that.. you’ll always stay..” he hesitated. saying those words out loud made him painfully aware of how utterly pathetic he was being. A moment of brief silence passed, and then he continued, “i’ll always be here to keep you safe.. I-. i’ll kill for you if i have to… just please.. please don’t leave me.” his voice cracked at the end of his sentence.

you wanted to speak up, to individually pluck all of these fears from his mind, to allow him to live freely, without carrying the weight of guilt that follows him everywhere; a looming shadow that never seems to leave him no matter how much good he does, or how much evil he removes from the world - none of that can fight away the burden of superiority; the cold, lonely view from the summit. he watches non-sorcerers living their normal lives every day, and behind the blindfold of arrogance that he wears with pride, he’s jealous of them. that’s all he wants in life. - a normal one. despite them being the reason he existed, what he lived to fight, he found that he, himself was the true curse. he was chained to sorcery whether he wanted to be or not. he could never quit, he was needed. he is the best. he saves thousands of people constantly, and does (mostly) nothing but good. and yet, nothing he does will ever bring back his friends - he knows that. but god, he has tried everything to move on.

he continues speaking, a low chuckle leaving his throat. “i’m being really pathetic right now huh? so much for being the stronges-” you cut him off abruptly, your eyes matched his now; glassy and decorated with tears. “satoru.” you began, gently cupping his chin and tilting it upwards, holding eye contact with him. “quit it with that ‘strongest’ bullshit. you have a name. a beautiful name, and you have an incredible personality, and you care for others more than you’d like to admit. having incredible power is just another addition to what makes you such a wonderful person. stop clinging to the title as if it’s a shackle, it’s just another layer to the sweet cake that makes up satoru gojo - and everyone loves cake!”  you flashed a dorky smile at him, cupping his cheek with your hands. he remained speechless, staring into your eyes with almost heart-shaped pupils. he looked like a sad little kitty cat. you sucked in a deep breath, waiting for the right words to come to you before continuing. “i love you. I love you so much that it hurts me to see you hurt. you never have to worry about me leaving you, okay? because, i firmly believe that we were put on this earth to be together. you complete me, baby.” for the first time that night, you saw a genuine smile spread on his face. even though it was small, barely there, you noticed it. “that’s corny.” he mumbled, and you laughed. “i guess it is, isn’t it? but it’s true y’know! you’re everything to me ‘toru. i adore you with every fibre of my being.” you placed a kiss on his forehead, immediately taking note of how he leaned into your touch. “i understand what you feel like right now, or at least i think i do. i know you’ve lost most of the people you love, and nothing i say will fully fill the hole they left with their losses. but, i promise you that i will always be here by your side no matter what. i will always be here for you, okay? so don’t ever forget that. and- and don’t you dare try to hide your sadness from me! i get that sometimes you don’t wanna talk about your feelings, and that’s okay. but please, know that you can talk to me. i don’t want you to ever think otherwise. even if it’s something i can’t help with, i’ll always be here to listen. “ your words were like a sweet relief to his aching mind, alleviating most of his worries by the mere promise of comfort alone. god, he was enamoured by you. he moved his hand from your waist, and placed it on top of your hand, which was currently caressing his cheek. he lifted it to his lips, and pressed a firm kiss to your knuckles. you smiled, your cheeks filling with warmth. “I’ll try to be more open ‘n honest from now on.. I promise” he said with an honest expression on his face. you could tell that he was slowly coming back to his former self. “thank you baby.” you kissed him again, this time on the tip of his nose. “no”, he started tracing delicate circles onto your hand. “thank you for bein’ so sweet. you’re too good for me.” his lips curved into the biggest smile you had seen that evening, the sight was almost enough to bring you to tears. you mirrored his relieved expression.

“c’mon, we still have some mochi left over in the kitchen. let’s get some sweets and cuddle up with a movie, i’ll even let you pick this time! or, if you’d prefer, we could keep talking? sound good?” you asked, slowly standing up. you held your hand out to him, and he grabbed onto it in seconds, allowing you to pull him up. he wrapped his arms around your waist, and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. “best girlfriend ever.” he whispered into your skin; his words quickly replaced by goosebumps. you don’t think you could ever stop loving this man.

[aaron-romave]

My Only Sunshine

It was a quiet night in Gotham, when suddenly the coms crackle to life, with a voice, that seemingly none of the bats recognized. That is all but one. Damians blood ran cold as he heard something that should not be possible. He had never even let himself think about it, because even recalling the mere memory of it would shatter him. 

The other night, dear

As I lay sleeping

I dreamed I held you 

In my arms

Batman's voice was the first to come over the coms “oracle who is this? Where are they?”

“I’m working on it B.” She crackle back in her slightly mechanical disguised voice.

When I awoke, dear

I was mistaken

So I hung my head and I cried

Oracle may not have known where it was coming from, but he did. He knew it as he knew the heart beating in his chest and the air within his lungs. Without thinking he leapt off the building, grappling across the city that his father loved, but he has never thought of as his true home.

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy 

When skies are gray

He was vaguely aware as Batman cried out for him, but that didn’t matter. His blood was rushing too quickly through his ears. Any protest or question simply ignored. He had somewhere he needed to be, and he needed to be there now. 

You'll never know, dear

How much I love you

Please don't take 

My sunshine away

“Oracle location!”

“I’m trying B! But these people are good I can’t work faster than I am!”

Was the last thing that came over the coms before he reached up and muted everyone, everyone but the voice he was focused on. The world had narrowed down to the wind whipping past him, his heartbeat in his ears and the one voice that he had wish to hear again for so long.

I'll always love you and make you happy 

And nothing else could come between

His lungs burned as Wayne industries came in to view. Why? Why of all nights was he on the outskirts of the city?  He needed to move faster, faster, please be fast enough. He begged to himself, to whatever god was out there be fast enough ….and for him to be there for this not to be some sort of cruel trick.

But if you leave me to love another 

I’ll support you as you follow your dreams

It was him. It had to be him. only he knew to sing it that way.  His brother quietly singing and holding him as he silently cried. He was never good enough for grandfather, he will never be good enough to be the heir to be excepted never daring, hopeing to be loved, but it was never like that with his brother. His brother loved him more than anything, and he couldn’t stop anything as grandfather ran his sword through the heart of the one person he truly loved. Through the heart of Damien’s one weakness. 

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy 

When skies are gray

Even at the end, when his brother knew grandfather was coming for him, his too kind brother never forced him. Always giving him a choice and he had failed his brother when he was willing to give up everything for someone as weak and pitiful as him. He wasn’t strong enough to run. He wasn’t strong enough to protect the one person who loved him above all else. 

You'll never know, dear

How much I love you

Please don't take 

My sunshine away

He was so close three minutes out. Almost there the highest spot in the city, the best place to see the stars. 

Northstar, I’m so happy you made it out. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there with you.

My Northstar please stop blaming yourself. This was my choice. It was always my choice and I don’t regret a second of it so neither should you. You are without a second of doubt the best thing to have ever happened to me. 

Damien felt a pit open up in his stomach.  Less than two minutes to Wayne enterprises

You have to let the others in Northstar. Being family to them, loving them it’s not replacing me or dishonoring me. Quite the opposite Northstar it’s keeping me alive; In a different way, but I’m still with you. 

Go on brother adventures with Dick, try things that make you uncomfortable, but know that he will keep you safe. 

Spend time with Babs in the library, read books that let you travel to fantastical worlds that we could never dream of.

Go to Jason for advice. You two are more alike than you even know, lean on each other, use that. 

Try photography with Tim. Take pictures of all those animals that you love.

Less than one minute

Pull pranks with Stephanie. Let yourself be a kid and laugh at stupid and dumb things. 

When things get too much go to Cass for quiet and understanding.

Go to Duke and ask him to take you out shopping at a regular store or to go to the mall to buy a toy for yourself. Enjoy the normal quiet moments.

Go to Bruce for comfort, he is Batman but he is also our dad don’t forget that, let him be a dad.  

The world went blurry. There is no one on the roof. 

Northstar I’m gone. I really am gone. You know how magic is Northstar your big brother had a few tricks up his sleeve, but I’m afraid this used the last of it. In the future in the far, far, far, future when you come join me in the hereafter, I’ll be waiting for you with open arms. I love you, Northstar now let our family love you in my stead. 

As his feet made contact with the roof of Wayne enterprises a small, glowing object made it self known in the center of the roof. It appeared that stars itself littered and sprung from the object, beckoning him forward. 

He was vaguely aware of the rest of the bats and birds joining him on the roof, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that his shaking hand was reaching out to grab the old dog stuffed animal as the last glitters of Stardust left the plush.

A drop of water fell down and landed on the left ear of the love worn dog. Reaching up and touching below the domino he realize that he was crying. When did that happen? When was the last time this happened?

As he clutched the dog plush to his chest, a frivolity that would have never been allowed in the league, but still his brother who he loved most in this world snuck it in for him. Hiding it behind a loose stone in the wall. Bringing it out for him to hold as his big brother comforted him and told him stories of a better life that they could have. 

The demons heir, Robin, Damien sobbed, cried for the injustice of the world, for his brother who even waiting for him in the hereafter was still looking out for him. 

His body shook as wave after wave of agony and despair ripped through him. Years of repressed grief tore through his body sharper and with more deadly aim than any blade. The floodgates had been opened. His big brother had given him this one last gift. 

So when Batman, his father, his dad crouched down in front of him concern showing through his usual stoic expression he does not ignore what his brother has given him and leaps forward, clutching onto his dad and weeping for the brother that he lost and the son his dad will never get to know.

( inspired by this)

[seokminfilm]

assumptions (act three) | lee seokmin

part: 3 of 3 (part 1 here, and part 2 here)

word count: 1.8k words

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get your head off of the Major Baseball League pitcher Lee Seokmin.

You had left his house early the next morning, too nervous to face him after the unexpected confession. Even though your heart said yes, your brain said no, and you followed it, going as far away as you could from him and his lavish apartment.

He was so perfect—almost too perfect, in a way. Seokmin had apparently fallen in love with you after only one day of being with you, and you and he both knew how ridiculous the thought was. How could anyone fall in love in just a day? Were all of the feelings you were feeling towards him even real? Could you even call this love?

As you sipped your warm coffee, your heart felt cold, always returning to the thought that kept your mind most occupied— Seokmin's lips on yours.

It would be a lie if you said you didn't miss him, but what could you do? Run back to him and tell him how much you missed him? How sorry you were for doubting him and leaving him alone? What could you do to make it better? Make it seem like you weren't taking him for granted and leaving him all alone—just like how you found him?

Before you knew it, tears were dropping on the napkin under your cup, and you weren't bothered to catch them, silently weeping for the love you had found.

The love you had left.

Seokmin was on the field bright and early today, striking the ball with sharp precision as his coach cheered for him and his accuracy.

It was a funny thing—when Seokmin was angry, he did better in everything than usual, and most people didn't complain if they got a sharp glare or a few curse words from the pitcher, as long as he was doing well.

It bothered Seokmin more, knowing that no one was concerned about how he was doing or how his mental health was.

He was angry—angry because you had gotten up and left without a warning or goodbye. Angry because you had seemingly led him on all this time, hearing him pour out his feelings late into the night and watching him become vulnerable around you, just to disappear into society again without a trace.

Did he mean anything to you? Did you think about him just as much as he thought about you, striking the ball a bit harder every time your sweet laugh echoed through his head? Did you crave his touch just like he did yours, wishing your fingertips were dancing along his skin and threading through his hair?

"Seokmin, hey. I think that's enough batting for today. You look stressed." His PR manager had called his name from the sidelines, and he obliged, throwing his bat to the ground as he stormed off into the dugout below.

"Do you want water or anything? You look—" "No." Seokmin was quick to stop his PR manager's sentence, and she nodded bashfully, giving him a quick rundown of the game later today before she sighed, looking at him once again.

"You may want to go home and clear your head. You'll be getting television interviews today, and I don't want you to have an attitude that they'll read as disrespectful." The female turns on her heel, leaving the dressing room before she stops, turning around to Seokmin once more. "Think about what you do before you do it, Seokmin."

With a quiet shut of the door, Seokmin is left alone to himself, stripping himself of his equipment as he bursts out of the room just seconds later.

His body is warm with anger, and it's bubbling out into his voice and face, eyes unnecessarily sharp and voice hard as he said a quick goodbye to his teammates. Seokmin made his way to his car, hands tense as he gripped the steering wheel. He fell silent, head hitting the wheel bluntly as he groaned.

Where were you when he needed you?

As Seokmin turned on the car and backed out of his parking spot, he thought of you, wondering where you could be.

Even though you and he had just met almost two days ago, there was something magical about you that Seokmin couldn't let go of. You made him feel alive, and it was something so special and so real that he craved more of it. He craved more of you.

His phone burned in his pocket, hand itching to grab it and call your number that he had saved the morning after you spend the night with him. You had told him he could call or text you anytime he needed something, but he wondered if that offer was still in place?

Could Seokmin call you if he needed something—could he call you if that something was you?

Day had turned into night, and you found yourself staring mindlessly at the television. Replays of the baseball game earlier were playing on the screen, and even though you weren't paying attention to the words, Seokmin's face did enough for you.

You couldn't recognize him for a second—even though his face was the same, the smile on his face that he wore didn't reach his eyes, and you could tell. You didn't know if you really knew him like you thought you did, but you were sure that his eyes sparkled when his smile was real.

Or at least they did when he was smiling at you.

Feeling as if you were going to throw up if you stared at the television screen any longer, you stood up, walking to the kitchen as you got a glass of water. Your phone lay untouched on the countertop, and you stared at it as if you were waiting for someone's call.

"Fuck," You sighed, turning away to stare out of the tiny window that overlooked your sink. The sky was pretty tonight, dark space above you littered with pretty stars that twinkled in time with your heart. You had gotten lost in the brightest star above you, watching it with intent as you sipped at your water.

And then, your phone rang.

You scrambled to it faster than you would have liked to admit, and tears welled up in your eyes as you read the name. Seokmin was in italicized letters on the screen, and you rushed to answer it, voice already betraying you as you let out a sob.

"Where—where are you?" Seokmin's voice was hurried, as if he was running somewhere. The cadence of his voice hadn't changed, and you covered your mouth, trying to stifle the sobbing from your lips.

"At home." You answered, and he sighed, the sound of his door being shut as the engine cranked on a few seconds later. "I'm coming home. Send me your address."

The way he said 'home' made it feel like it was a place that belonged to both of you. It made your heart race and your stomach get butterflies, but you did what he said, sending your address as he sighed into the speaker, breath rushing into your ear.

"I'm coming, okay. I'm coming." Seokmin hung up quickly, and you let the phone drop from your ear, tears flowing from your eyes.

You didn't know how to feel anymore—you were scared, angry, relieved, and so many other emotions that you couldn't name. Seokmin made you unsure of everything, and as much as you loved it, you also hated it. Why was he coming to see you? Why did he sound so in a hurry? Did you actually mean that much to him?

You were getting your hopes up, but you could dream, couldn't you?

Seokmin sped down the street, heart racing as the motor of his car sped up. The chilly wind beat his face as his hair tickled his nose, but he couldn't stop the tears from gathering at his eyes.

How did he try to spend his life without you by his side? How did he let you leave him without an explanation like that?

It may be selfish, and it may be stupid, but he needed you. He needed you like he needed water—like he needed air.

Seokmin needed you. He needed you.

As he pulled into the driveway of your small apartment, the desperation got stronger as he sprinted out of his car, nearly pounding the door in as he did the last bit of waiting he hoped he'd ever have to do to you again.

The door opened slowly, and your puffy, wet face met his vision for the first time in what seemed to be lifetimes. His hands went to your waist, and yours to his hair, and before you or him could even say a word or register what you were doing, your lips were on his and he was sobbing into your mouth.

"Please—please don't ever leave me again. I need you." Seokmin's voice was nothing more than a weep now, and he clung to your shirt as if you were a raft, the only sturdy thing in his turbulent sea.

Your tears fell on Seokmin's soft lips, pulling away as you buried your face in his chest. He kissed your forehead softly, hands running up and down your back as he kissed and kissed you, again and again.

"You need me?" You pulled away from his chest, snot running from your nose and your eyes red as he cupped your wet cheek in his large hand, slender fingers wiping the tears away gently as he nodded.

"Yes, of course I do." He answered sweetly, leaning into you as you gripped at his hair again.

"But—but we met in such little time. We only knew each other for a day—how are you sure that you love me? You're not lying to me, are you? Are the feelings you have for me real?" Your eyes are welling up with tears again, but Seokmin catches everyone with a soft kiss, making you smile as he nods.

“Trust me, they’re real. I’m just as surprised and confused as you are, but I know they are real, and they belong to me. You belong to me. Even though we met in a strange situation and only got to know each other a few days ago, I still know that I love you and want you. You can call me crazy, insane, or gullible—call me whatever you like. The longer I am away from you, the more I find that I need you." Seokmin says softly, lips brushing against yours again as you sigh against him.

"Seokmin..." The tears are flowing again, but this time, it's because you're happy.

Happy to know that even if you still felt like it was a dream that was too perfect, it was your reality, with all the imperfections both you and Seokmin had to bring to the table.

The assumptions you made about the superficial relationship you believed you both had changed now, and you felt new, complete with the man that you met that had changed your life in one lonely night.

So much for assumptions.

first miniseries done! i honestly do like the ending, but i feel there was a lot more i could have expounded upon....well, we can always try again next time! anyways, prepare for a regency-era vernon miniseries soon! this miniseries is dedicated to @slytherinshua for being there to hype me up w this one and give me some help & ideas for regency-era vernon 🤍 love you girlie

reblogs & feedback is GREATLY appreciated!! don't be a silent reader—let me know how you liked it! thank you for all the support and love on my silly fics lyrnation🪄 you guys are the realest

[tumble-witch]

TW light suggestion of body horror. No descriptions though!

Creatomachia

Bunnix shows up in Marinette's bedroom when it's already dark outside.

Marinette knows what the older heroine is about to ask the second she hears the burrow open. When Bunnix greets her, Marinette is hyperventilating. Instead of exchanging pleasantries, she asks:

- Is it... him again?

Bunnix has a grim expression on her face, yet shakes her head. Marinette exhales. She has another question.

- Is it something I did?

- No. I'm sorry I'm asking this from you again. I'm sorry there will be no answers yet.

- It's okay. I am ready.

At first Ladybug thinks she is on another planet. Another dimension, even. There are cloud fractals in the sky. There is a street light growing out of another one, growing out of another one, growing out of another one... Trees are huge and have so many leaves they are almost a solid green mass. Some buildings are so tall they go way past the clouds in a curvy line. It reminds her of the Jack and the Beanstalk fairytale her mom used to read her before bed.

The roads branch out like blood vessels, getting smaller with each separation, ending in dead ends near the buildings or growing vertically on top of the walls.

The whole city almost looks like it could move at any second. It almost looks alive.

As Ladybug progresses through the streets (if she can even call them that), she finally realizes where the people are.

At least, what's left of them.

Infinite growth apparently works on humans, too. She never thought she'd be so thankful to see somebody not move.

The silence makes her ears ring. Everything is quiet, except for some mechanical sounds the structures make, not really meant to support their own weight in this new form.

Then, she hears laughter.

A girl with hair so long she's not sure where it ends is frantically pacing around the roof, her body movements jittery and odd. As the camera of the heroine's yo-yo focuses on the akuma, helping seek out where the cursed butterfly is hiding, Ladybug realizes the dress this girl is wearing is not grey.

It's is covered in trillions of colourful tiny dots of different shapes and sizes. They seem jittery too, as if trying to move, but some force is making them stay together. This feels like standing up after lying down for too long. Looking at the pattern for too long makes her head hurt

Ladybug continues hiding. She takes her time looking for clues. At this point she's not really sure if the girl is actually laughing or this is a weird hysterical cry. Sometimes the akuma starts muttering under her nose, too quiet to make out most of the words. Ladybug is pretty sure she heard the girl say "I can fix this" a few times though. She shifts to hear the words better.

The akuma turns around

This is the hardest she's ever fought. Chat Blanc feels like child's play now.

While the villain almost looks out of breath, long hair going everywhere, Ladybug is still barely able to keep up.

The air is too dense with oxygen.

The girl has a yo-yo as a weapon, in a cruel twist of irony. And she's damn good with it. Yet, she clearly hesitates in using the thing, saving it as a last resort to escape.

Ladybug tries to reason with the akumatized victim.

- Wait! Please, let me help you!

- You don't understand, - the girl looks around frantically, - I have to fix this! I need to fix this!

Villain's grey yo-yo starts to glow white and she throws it at a fire hydrant, making it grow another one on top.

The akuma was inside the earring. Ladybug was hit by the yo-yo. She doesn't have the time to think as she casts Miraculous cure, just before her brain registered the pain fully.

She'll remember the way it looked when she closes her eyes though.

The streets go back to normal. Her body is normal. Ladybug turns around and meets the eyes of

herself

Marinette sits on the ground, horrified. But before Ladybug can talk to her Bunnix appears and she has to go.

Bunnix doesn't say anything as they walk through the burrow, but she's pretty sure the older heroine is holding her shoulder softer than ever before.

They didn't change anything. They didn't fix anything after they came back, no scoldings, no erasing her name from anywhere, nothing. Marinette is growing more paranoid at every turn, expecting to get akumatized. Her conflict avoidance is at all times high. She's withdrawing from her friends.

Nobody is near when Hawkmoth himself shows up in the middle of the night and she has to transform. He senses her distress immediately.

This is just too easy.

The butterfly lands in her earring just as she started to call for a last effort Lucky Charm.

"Creatomachia, this is Hawkmoth. You are overwhelmed with every problem creating a million smaller ones. Things seem to stack on top of each other and just never end. I'll give you the power to fix everything. In return, you will give me your and Chat Noir's miraculous."

For a split second, everything is white.

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

looking for fics be so fine like yes. premise is interesting. word count is lengthy. vibing with the prose on the blurb. and then you spot the glaring doc/marty tag on the top and it's like oh never mind. abort mission ig.

[justanothermachine]

Sonic Hater Club

also slightly different camera angle w/ more glitter?

[kindahoping4forever]

Laying Here In Nothing But My Feelings // Luke Hemmings

This fic is 1000% dedicated to @cal-puddies - I had an inexplicable - and rather explicit - Luke breakdown in our chat over the summer and she not only egged me on but when I was done, she was immediately like "fic please." It was essentially a joke between us until Christmas Day (lmao) when she suggested taking my concept for a spin could be a fun way to spend the holiday. And here we are now! Everyone say thank you, Cass! (And also for giving notes and feedback as always and just generally being the best.)

This is the first Luke fic I've managed to finish on my own (Waiting For It Gets So Boring was co-written with Cass!) so please let me know what you think and if you'd like to see more!

Warnings: Boyfriend!Luke, band responsibility disrupting sexy plans (no angst, just sexual frustration and tension). Dirty talk, use of sex toys (solo and partnered), sexting, masturbation, prolonged teasing, lowkey body worship, very brief oral sex (female receiving), very not brief rimming (male receiving). For real, like 2500 words of this is rimming. So. Also I apparently mention Luke's thighs 12 times. I'm fine.

Word Count: 12,575

Masterlist // Ko-Fi linked above

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

I no longer use a tag list so more than ever, these fics live and die by reblogs! If you enjoy, please consider sharing so it can circulate and be seen by other readers!

“Oh… oh just like that… don’t stop… don’t stop… oh… babe, wait… Ash?”

Luke looks up from between your legs, mouth glistening, breath heavy, eyes shining with hunger and amusement. “Honestly shocking that’s the first time you’ve accidentally called out his name,” he cracks, snorting at his own joke as he dodges the kick you aim at his chest.

“Haha,” you respond dryly, grabbing your phone off the nightstand and holding it out for him to see. “I told you not to send him to voicemail all those times, now he won’t stop calling me.”

“A likely story,” he jokes, reaching for his own phone. He sits on the edge of the bed to text Ashton while you curl up behind him, nipping at his shoulder.

“Tell him you’re busy,” you purr, reaching around to wrap a hand around his cock. You thumb over his slit, spreading the precum around, smiling at the hiss he lets out when you start slowly stroking. “Tell him you’ve had a hard morning and you can’t be bothered until you deal with some pressing matters… like pressing this cock into my ---”

Luke jumps as his phone vibrates in his hand. “Hey, man, what’s going on?” He answers, rushing out his greeting while stilling your hand. You relent and instead peck at the freckles on his neck. “Wha--- I thought that wasn’t due until tomorrow… oh I guess I didn’t see when that email was sent… so like, today tomorrow?”

The sound of this conversation instantly alarms you and you pop your head around to his line of vision to let him know, shaking your head. He grimaces in response, nodding silently as he listens to Ashton’s monologue. 

“Okay… no, of course I’m not too busy, of course I can be there,” he answers, mouthing sorry at the way your jaw drops. “I can be on the freeway in like 10, I’ll text when I’m there.”

He ends the call and frowns at the look of disbelief on your face. “Baby, I’m sorry,” he starts, immediately scurrying around the room, cock still half hard. “We fucked up and that new song’s gotta be mixed, mastered and turned in before midnight tonight, not tomorrow.”

“Oh wow, that’s intense,” you offer with quiet compassion. He disappears into the closet and you chew your lip, trying to swallow down the disappointment you’re feeling. You wonder out loud, “And you guys can’t just send files back and forth like you have before?” 

He emerges, dressed and pulling on his leather jacket. “Ash already called an engineer in so we all should probably be on site,” he explains, sighing as he grabs his jewelry off the dresser. “I’d have loved to hold off, spend a little more time here but the guy’s already on his way, Ash is flipping out, I’m closest to the studio… I just don’t really have a choice.”

“Aww, Lu, that sucks,” you sympathize. He sits on the bed to pull on his shoes and you rest your head on his shoulder, rubbing his back soothingly. “Sucks your day is starting off so chaotic, sucks we gotta spend it apart now. I was really looking forward to spending today in bed with you.”

“Me too, honey. Me too,” he laments, offering you an apologetic kiss. 

The kiss begins sweet but he can’t help deepening it and you eagerly pull him in closer by the lapels of his jacket. “You got ready pretty quick, babe… Think you’ve got a spare few minutes?” You murmur, leaning back on the bed seductively, hoping to woo him back into bed.

Luke’s eyes scan over your form with interest before he shakes his head, as if he’s physically trying to break a spell you’ve cast on him. He lets out a groan of your name that’s part desire, part regret. “Baby, we both know I can’t be trusted to keep it to my ‘spare few minutes’,” he flirts. He pecks your lips again as he eases off the bed. “Promise I’ll make it up to you tonight!”

“You’re assuming I won’t have already worn myself out in your absence,” you tease, fighting a giggle as he stumbles grabbing his backpack, clearly distracted by what you just said.

“Okay, well now that’s all I’m gonna be thinking about all day,” he says with a wink, heading out the door. A beat passes and then his voice calls out from the staircase, “Love you!” 

“Love you,” you respond, slumping against the pillows.

The whirlwind of the past few minutes sinks in as you stare at the ceiling. You tried to react reasonably, obviously you recognize the predicament Luke is in, but you also think you’re allowed to be disappointed. It’s been ages since the two of you spent some quality time together and setting aside today to lay around and just enjoy each other was Luke’s idea in the first place. 

You sprawl out, figuring you might as well appreciate how much more spacious Luke’s bed is than yours; you run your hand longingly across his side of the bed, giving a sad laugh when you knock into the bottle of lube beside his pillow, a lost vestige of a sexy morning abandoned. An idea sparks in your mind and you sit up excitedly, grabbing the bottle and your phone.

*  *  *

Across town, Luke finds a corner table to sit and wait for his order. You were right, he did have a spare few minutes and he decided nothing softens the blow of an unexpected studio day like fresh donuts waiting for everyone. He proudly sends an update text to Ash and is about to polish off the powdered sugar donut he picked up for himself when a notification from you pops up on the screen. 

Glad to see you’re not still upset about his sudden exit, he taps on your name and his smile quickly morphs into a smirk when he sees the photo you’ve sent - a bottle of lube and a box of tissues atop your nightstand, while your hand dips into the middle drawer, “the fun drawer” as it was dubbed when you first started bringing toys over. The accompanying text reads: 

Wonder if something in here can make me feel as good as you would’ve.

He catches his lip between his teeth as he types back: 

Miss your taste so much already, baby… Use the suction vibe, the pink one we took on vacation. I know it’ll make you cum just as hard as my tongue would.

You giggle reading your boyfriend’s message, pleased at having correctly guessed what his selection would be. You laugh again, this time with a bit more of an edge, as you lube up an entirely different vibrator, the thrusting toy he left for you when he was leaving for tour. When the purple silicone looks nice and slick, you hold it out in front of your phone, making sure your hand is wrapped around the widest part of the base, hoping that’ll make him think about it stretching you out.

Luke stares at the box of donuts he just sat on the passenger seat, wondering if he should fasten the seat belt around it to keep it in place. His phone vibrates on the dashboard and a thrill runs through him when he picks it up to see another notification from you. He was hoping he'd hear from you again, maybe get a sexy afterglow pic to thank him for his toy suggestion.

He takes a sip of coffee as he opens your message and immediately sputters it back into the cup, hurrying it back into the cup holder so he can examine the photo. He zooms in, trying to determine if the vibe is covered in lube or you before determining the answer doesn't really matter because now all he's thinking about is how wet you felt against his face this morning, how his beard still vaguely smells like you.

He runs a hand through his hair, flustered, and finally notices you sent a text as well. 

Thanks for the rec but I think I'm more in the mood for this one. Gonna put it on the highest setting and let it absolutely ruin me the way I wanted you to. Would give anything for this to be you. Can’t wait to see you tonight. Miss you, miss your cock too much already.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters to himself as he resumes staring at the picture. He remembers the videos you sent while he was overseas, how relentless the toy’s thrusting motion seemed to be, the way your legs wouldn’t stop shaking by the time you were done with it, how he dreamt of the noises you made for the next three nights. “Coulda been you, dummy,” he chastises himself, deciding that while donuts are great, his time would’ve been better spent making sure you were satisfied before he left. *  *  *

You bite your lip, pressing the tip of the vibe to your entrance, teasing yourself. You briefly entertained the idea of queuing up some porn, maybe lighting a candle or two, but between your interrupted orgasm with Luke and the thrill of sexting him, you’ve accepted you probably won’t need much to get off.

Your phone buzzes nearby and you blindly pat around the bed until you find it. You click the new message, already plotting your saucy response, when suddenly your mind goes completely blank as a picture of Luke’s hand gripping his visibly hard cock through his pants fills your screen. 

Fuck, baby… I should’ve stayed. You should be cumming around my cock instead of that toy… should be babbling to me instead of an empty room… should be making a mess on me instead of my sheets. Fuck. I need you so bad, baby. Don’t know how I’m gonna get through the day.

If you weren’t so horny, you might be embarrassed at the way you’re zooming in to study his picture. God, he looks so hard… if he were here, he’d be acting so desperate already… pressing into you, whispering against your ear how much he wants you, hands roaming your ass, tongue running along your ear, employing all the tricks he knows make you weak. Silently vowing to make him that needy tonight, you sink the vibe into yourself, surprised at how loudly you gasp. No, this isn’t going to take long at all. *  *  *

Luke finally pulls into the studio parking lot, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees that despite his detour and your distraction, he’s still the first to arrive. He reaches into the backseat to grab his Airpods out of his backpack, figuring while he waits he can listen to the most recent mix of the song and make notes on what changes are needed. He’s searching through his files for the right version when he’s startled by the vibration of another message.

He takes a deep breath, cock already stirring in anticipation for what you might say - or show - next. He selects your conversation and is momentarily puzzled when no pictures or texts are added to the thread; he glances up at the top of the screen to make sure he has full service and even closes and reopens the chat before he realizes you’ve sent a voice message. Equal parts curious and confused, he adjusts his earbuds and hits play.

There’s nothing but quiet shuffling at first, enough that Luke begins to wonder if you recorded and sent this message by mistake. He’s about to turn the volume up to make sure he’s not missing anything when he hears an all too familiar sigh and he grips the steering wheel, lightheaded from how fast the sound travels to his cock.

“Luuuuke… babe,” you coo, unmistakably slick noises in the background giving away why you sound so breathy. “That picture you sent… fuck… I can’t stop thinking about you getting so hard just from thinking about me wanting you… are you still that hard, baby? Did you have to drive all the way there with your cock straining against your pants like that? Fuck, Lu, wish I was there, I’d be leaning into your lap so fuckin’ fast… how have I never sucked you off in that car? We’ve gotta do something about that, babe, you’re so fucking sexy when you drive, it always makes me want you.”

By the time you take a breath, Luke’s heart is pounding so loud in his ears, he’s afraid you’re going to get drowned out if he doesn’t pause and take a second to calm down. He exhales loudly and leans back, shell-shocked, head feeling like it might float away if he dares to lift it from the seat’s headrest. 

His mind races to process everything he’s feeling. He’s the dumbest man on the planet, how could he have ever left you this morning, he had no choice but to leave you this morning, but how could he have ever left you this morning? He knows you understand that he’d much rather be there with you, so why are you torturing him like this? He loves you for torturing him like this, he hopes you never stop torturing him like this, he’s ready and willing to die or at the very least cum in his pants from listening to you taunt him like this.

Having accepted his fate, he presses play, closing his eyes so he can properly visualize everything he’s hearing.

“God… want you so bad, babe… was so close when you had to stop… I love when you eat my pussy, I almost came right when you first started… should’ve cum for you while I had the chance, I just didn’t want it to be over so quick,” you ramble. “Didn’t want this to be over too soon either, ‘s why I haven’t turned my toy on yet. Was gonna tease myself more but I had to put it in as soon as I saw that picture… oh, Lu, I wish this was you filling me so bad.”

Luke says a silent prayer of thanks to whatever god blessed him with such a vivid imagination, he can perfectly picture you spread out on the bed, chest heaving as your hand moves between your legs, brow furrowed as you fight yourself to keep yourself from going too fast. He squeezes his eyes shut even harder, almost as if he concentrates enough, he can will himself into the room with you.

“Wanted to be naked with you all day… so many things I wanted to do with you… to you… been thinking about it all week… been wet for it since you woke me up this morning… kissing my neck, pressing your cock against my ass...” 

There’s silence for a beat and then a distinct mechanical whir starts up. You resume speaking but your voice is notably affected - a little more rushed, a little more whiny - and Luke can’t help but press his palm to his crotch, groaning with relief at the brief pressure. 

“...Feels too fuckin’ good, babe, I’m already close… all that’s missing is you telling me how good I feel around your cock… how good I look with your hand squeezing my throat… how good I sound begging you to cum all over -- ”

The sharp sound of someone knocking on the car window startles Luke out of his lustful trance. His eyes shoot open, he sits up so fast he bangs his knee on the steering wheel and for some reason, his panicked mind tells him it’s necessary to yank the Airpods out of his ears and throw them to the side as if they were on fire.

It takes another couple of seconds for him to realize he should see who wanted his attention and he turns to see Ashton doubled over, laughing so hard there’s no sound coming from him. Luke first rolls his eyes and then rolls down the window before commenting plainly, “You scared me.”

“You’re lucky that’s all I did! What are you doing sitting with your eyes closed like that? Napping?” Ash asks, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Anybody could’ve snuck up on you, smashed a window, grabbed your laptop off the backseat. Or that box of donuts you were so excited about.” He peers around Luke, looking for the prized pastries.

“Right, the famed donut snatchers of the San Fernando Valley,” Luke quips, shifting in his seat, hoping the snacks are the only thing Ash is able to ogle from his vantage point. He grabs the pink box, passing it to him through the window. “Here, you go ahead and set up in there, I’ll be just a minute.”

Ashton looks at him suspiciously and Luke impresses himself with how cooly he explains, “You know how many Airpods I’ve lost already, now I’ve gotta stop and find the ones I just threw across the car since you decided to creep up on me like a psycho.”

“Fine,” Ash shrugs, peeking inside the pastry box. He turns to leave, calling over his shoulder, “If you’re not there in five minutes, I’m eating this eclair I know you were saving.”

Luke scowls but moves into action once Ashton disappears around the corner. He scans the car's cabin, giving a satisfied tongue click when he spots the wayward earbuds, one on the passenger seat, one under it.

A sucker for punishment, he fits them in his ears, scrubs to the last 30 seconds of your message and hits play before he can change his mind.

There's ambient noise - a quiet buzz and a steady rhythmic pattern that he eventually determines must be your breath. The buzz becomes louder and louder before stopping entirely; once it dawns on him that the volume increase was due to you pulling the toy from your body to shut it off, his pants are back to feeling as tight as they were before Ashton’s interruption.

“Mmm… well… guess you’ll be coming home to freshly washed sheets tonight,” you laugh breathily, sounding tired but elated. “I needed that. Still need you more, though. Love you so much, Lu, still wish more than anything you were here with me.”

Luke pouts, his heart aching almost as much as his cock. He can picture you, bottom lip swollen from pulling it between your teeth to stifle your moans, hair crazy from the way you run your fingers through it when you’re coming down, eyes slowly closing as you fight through your exhaustion for the sake of pillow talk.

“...We can make up for it tonight. Thinking about that is what’s gonna get me through my day. Maybe now you’ll be thinkin’ about it too,” you continue, satisfied smile evident in your voice. “Hope you have a good day, babe, get some good work done! Hopefully I didn’t make it too hard… well… the work, I mean.” You giggle at your unintended double entendre and with a kissy noise, the message ends.

He shakes his head, wondering if it’s too late to fake an illness so he can get home to you as soon as possible. He hits record on a voice note of his own and debates the topic out loud. 

“...I mean, I guess Ash already knows I’m here - oh yeah, remind me to tell you that story - but also maybe he’d believe it came on suddenly. Had to have looked pretty pale when he saw me since every ounce of blood in my body was in my dick,” he jokes. His voice drops as he continues, “I’m still so hard for you, baby. I can’t stop hearing your noises… your breath… I swear I could feel it on me. Thinking about how good you must have looked cumming like that… how good you must have felt. Jesus… how do you do it? Every day I think it’s the most I’ve ever wanted you but then you do something else and it’s another level of wanting. Want you so fuckin’ bad, baby. I love you and I’ll see you tonight.”

Before he can think better of it, he briskly undoes his zipper, hooks a thumb in the waistband of both his pants and his boxers and takes a quick picture of the stubborn erection you've left him with.

*  *  *

A sly smile crosses your features when you hear the message tone in the distance as you step out of the shower; you hurry through drying off, excited to see your boyfriend’s reaction. You wrap your towel around yourself and shuffle over to the counter where you left your phone.

You feel your eyebrows raise, intrigued by the message preview which reads: “Well, this should be an interesting studio session.” The chat loads and naturally, your eye is immediately drawn to the photo; you chuckle to yourself when you realize you’re instinctively licking your lips at the sight of his neglected cock tenting his pants. He was clearly rushed and at an odd angle so it’s not the best dick pic he’s ever sent, just partial shaft and a lot of his hand trying to hold his underwear out of the way, but simply knowing Luke needed you to see how much your message affected him to the point that he tried to stick his phone down his pants in the studio parking lot has you feeling flushed.

Tearing your eyes away from the picture, you realize he left you a voice message and as soon as you hear the rasp in his voice, how absolutely destroyed he sounds, you place a hand on the counter, steadying yourself. Oh, tonight is gonna be fun.

*  *  *

“You’re not even fuckin’ paying attention, bro,” Calum complains, gesturing at the phone that’s been glued to Luke’s hand since they sat down.

“Am so!” Luke protests, laughing at how juvenile his defense sounded. His eyes scan over the message app just to make sure he hasn’t missed anything and then he sets his phone down. “I’m just waiting on an important message.”

Michael swivels around in his computer chair. “Is it an update on whether or not you’re still the worst? Because I can go ahead and confirm that for you.”

Luke frowns as his friends laugh at his alleged inattention. “We’re gonna double track the pre and take a layer off the first half of the chorus to see if that makes a difference,” he reports, beaming at the surprised faces staring back at him. “It’s almost like I can care about two things at once you asshol-- oh shit…” His bragging is interrupted by the sound of his phone vibrating on the table next to him and he reaches for it, the strings on his guitar plucking atonally as he maneuvers.

“Your important message?” Ashton asks with a knowing smile. Between the delayed response this morning, the curious parking lot exchange and Luke’s generally distracted behavior during this session, Ash feels like he has a basic idea of where his mind is.

“Just a delivery notification,” Luke answers glumly, expression turning sheepish when he sees the look on his bandmate’s face. “The coffee’s on its way though.”

“Oh, sweet!” Ash chirps, holding his hand out for Luke to pass the guitar to him. 

Luke opens his notes app and sits back on the couch, ready to give the latest mix his full scrutiny. It takes half a verse for his mind to wander, remembering how much you loved this song the first time you heard him workshopping it at home. His brain reminds him of the way you curled up in his lap while you waited for him to finish piecing together the vocals and the way he eventually gave up once your mouth attached to his neck. He smiles, thinking about how he had you naked and under him within seconds of carrying you to the couch and how he was able to finish the song while you slept, warmed by a blanket and sated by an orgasm, on his studio sofa. 

It’s a wonderful memory but one that has him switching over to check your chat one more time. He’s not sure if your delayed response is part of your game or if you just got distracted but he’s not too proud to double text, especially when he’s missing you this much.

*  *  *

Petunia barks at your phone chiming on the kitchen counter, the sound interrupting her concentrating on lapping up the water you’d just placed in front of her. You laugh and scratch behind her ears, laughing again when you see Luke’s message.

I can only assume you haven’t responded to my striking dick photography because it sent you into such a horny spiral, you’ve orgasmed yourself into a coma.

You’re grinning from ear to ear as you respond.

Yes, cum coma. Definitely it. Not like I was taking my time, starting my day, letting you possibly get some work done so you could get home to me on time. Definitely the cum coma.

You shake your head as your message goes from “delivered” to “read” instantly and it shows him already typing a response.

Oh I’ll definitely be home on time… there’s literally nothing that could keep me from getting home on time… this song isn’t done in a couple hours, I’ll just leave the band.

You giggle as you flop onto the living room couch.

Bold of you to assume I’m interested in sleeping with an unemployed musician.

We’re called “independent artists,” ya clout chaser.

Petunia was considering climbing up to lay with you but after the howl you let out at that last message, she opts for watching you curiously from her dog bed instead. 

“You can’t let your dad know I think he’s that funny, we’ll never hear the end of it,” you tell her before resuming your conversation.

How are things going? Clearly you’re fully focused and engaged with the project.

Luke snorts quietly, eyes darting around the room to check that the rest of the guys are still preoccupied: Ashton and Michael animatedly debating the volume of a particular synth while Calum stoically listens in, expression indicating he’s either weighing their arguments carefully or not paying attention at all.

Was going great until we listened back and now I can’t stop thinking about you naked on my studio couch.

Luke smiles at how quickly your typing bubbles come up, pleased to know you remember that day as vividly as he does.

Ohhhh… THAT song.

Every time I hear that chorus melody, I think about trying to overlay those vocals while also trying to keep your hands out of my pants.

You were being super sexy with your glasses and your crazy hair and your musical genius… was that not all just a ploy to get me to touch your dick? My bad.

Part of you wants to feel silly for smiling so much your cheeks hurt but it’s never mattered if you’re just trading texts, speaking over the phone or if he’s sitting right next to you - the two of you have always had this easy rapport - loving, teasing, comforting and titillating all at once. It serves you well at home and it’s especially beneficial during times of separation, whether it be for a few hours like today or for weeks when he’s on tour.

Your phone buzzes in your hand and you smirk as you read the screen.

Please, we both know I don’t have to work nearly that hard, you were on me the second you came in and saw I didn’t have a guitar on my lap.

You feel your cheeks heating as you type.

You know what I remember? You working with me in your lap, tracing the tattoo on your thigh… feeling you get harder and harder against my hip… the way your cock would jump whenever I’d graze your skin with my nails…

Luke shifts a throw pillow onto his lap, pants getting tighter for what seems like the millionth time today. He really has no one but himself to blame - not just for leaving but for instigating this latest sexting adventure. He just couldn’t help himself, once he gets to thinking about you like this… he just needs you.

You always love playing with that tatt… I love it too… love it even more when you tease it with your tongue.

Your heart speeds up both from the message and from how surprisingly loud your slow but forceful exhale sounds sitting alone in Luke’s living room. It takes a moment for you to decide how to play things but you let out a self-satisfied hum when you finally start constructing your reply.

Yeah… you love the teasing, don’t you? My tongue teasing your body, my words teasing your mind… I’ll bet you love that you’ve been hard all day and haven’t been able to do a thing about it. Love feeling your cock up against your zipper, love feeling the precum trickle onto your boxers, love wondering if anyone has caught onto what you’re up to.

The studio suddenly feels irredeemably warm as Luke reads your message. He casually presses down onto his lap pillow, strategically alleviating some of the pressure between his legs. He has to admit your read on him was pretty spot on, now he just has to decide how far to take things, especially considering that the guys are just about ready and he’ll be expected to contribute soon.

Can’t help it, baby… want you so bad sometimes I want to make it last… even the buildup is worth getting off on with you.

He leans back, mentally congratulating himself on his response when he feels his eyes widen and his cock throb at your reply. 

I’ll be sure to remind you of that when you’re begging me to let you cum tonight.

*  *  *

Luke goes radio silent for the next several hours until you finally get that long awaited “On my way,” accompanied by a potpourri of excited emojis, just to make sure his enthusiasm comes across.

You’re excited too, grinning to yourself as you fly through the house to make sure you’ve taken care of everything for his impending arrival. You already took Petunia out and refilled her bowl, already charged the toys, and as promised, already washed and changed the sheets. You pull your overnight bag onto the bed, looking over the lingerie you brought, undecided on if you should surprise him with a sexy greeting at the door. You eventually land on “sexy underwear but make him work for it,” grabbing the pink band t-shirt he’s been wearing lately to slip on over the set you chose.

As your final task, you set two cold water bottles on each nightstand, giving a little exasperated huff as you pull out your phone to check the traffic again; it feels like he texted you forever ago but you know you’re probably just impatient. You’re pondering which of his bandmates was most likely to stop him on his way out, when you hear the garage opening and you clap your hands together gleefully, springing up to fix your hair in the vanity mirror.

Luke’s calling your name as soon as he opens the front door; you originally planned on playing it cool, letting him come to you, but you can’t deny how thrilled you are that he’s finally home and you race down to him. 

The two of you meet up at the foot of the stairs, huge smiles decorating your faces. You take advantage of being on the step above him, throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face in the stubble you’ve missed feeling all day. He wraps his arms around you with a chuckle, squeezing you tight, letting you be the one to pull away first. You give him a few quick pecks before you notice the sound of crinkling cellophane coming from him and you pull back curiously to see what the source is.

“These are for you,” Luke sing-songs, presenting you with a brightly colored bouquet of assorted flowers. You pout, touched by the gesture and before he gets a chance to elaborate, you pull him down to your lips to show your appreciation.

He murmurs against you, tangling a hand in your hair, leading you into a slow, sensual kiss. You moan as his tongue greets yours and again when his hand travels down to squeeze your ass under the rising hem of your t-shirt. He groans into your mouth when he feels the high cut lace of your underwear, his mind automatically scrolling through his memories of all the ravishing sets you’ve worn for him, wondering what he’ll be stunned by tonight.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he murmurs, holding you tighter, kissing you harder.

“Me too,” you sigh. “Well we know what I’ve been thinking about… what have you been thinking about?”

“For starters, this,” he replies, lifting you off the step and wrapping your legs around his waist. You giggle as he starts to climb the stairs, briefly resuming the makeout before determining he should focus on getting you both to the bedroom safely.

As you pass the hall bathroom, you tap him with your flowers. “We should probably get these in water before we get too distracted.”

He takes the bouquet from you, laying it on the dresser as he enters the bedroom. “They’ll be alright for a little longer.” He carefully sits you on the bed, looking at you hungrily. “You’re all I care about being wet right now.”

You sit up on your knees to kiss him passionately and rid him of his jacket and shirt. You run your hands over his chest, loving the tiny noises he makes as your nails run through his chest hair, tracing along his nipples. You slip your fingers in his waistband, pulling him closer by his pants.

“Been so patient, even while I had my fun with you today… always so patient with me, Lu… love that about you,” you coo, looking up at him alluringly as you palm over the outline of his hardening cock. You keep eye contact as you unfasten his pants and start pulling them down.

It’s a beautiful sight seeing Luke peer down at you, eyes already glassy, mouth already open in awe; his hair is a mess from your fingers running through it, curls hanging over his eyes as he watches you breathlessly. Your stomach drops in anticipation of the moan you know is coming when you dip your head down to mouth at him over his boxer briefs. He doesn’t disappoint, voice both loud and shaky as your lips apply gentle pressure to his cock; you find the tip and pucker your lips more, softly sucking at his shape through the fabric. 

He groans your name in a bid for you to stop, wanting to pace himself. He grips your face in his hand, rings digging into your skin deliciously as he roughly pulls you back up to his mouth, pressing his body to yours as he kisses you, letting his hardness and his tongue work in tandem to let you know how much effect you have on him.

His hand travels down your throat, lingering just long enough to get your blood pumping, before he leans you back so he can grab the hem of your shirt. You help him tug it over your head and he curses under his breath as he takes in the bubblegum pink underwear you picked out. Before you started dating Luke, you never cared much for brightly colored lingerie but with him it feels right: playful and loud while still erotic and intimate, just like the two of you are in bed together.

Luke loves when you dress up for him and you love watching him appreciate all the little details, his eyes poring over the peekaboo sheerness of the lace lining, his fingers reaching out to trace along the geometric caged cutouts above the bra cups, his guitar-worn fingertips an enticing contrast to the smooth satin of the straps. 

“Beautiful, baby,” he whispers reverently, leaning in to place a kiss on each of the tiny bows decorating the set: one on each strap, just below your collarbones, one in the center of your cleavage and one right under the waistband of your panties. He laughs warmly at the gasp that last location elicits from you and he chastely pecks over the front of your underwear a few times before raising back up to grin at you. “This is new, right?”

Nodding, you play with his necklace, somehow feeling both bold and shy under his attentive gaze. “I picked up a couple new things for today, actually… wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to spend all day in bed.”

“Aww, honey,” he pouts, kissing under your jaw until you giggle. “Well I love it… love you… love that you’d think to do that. Looks so good, I almost don’t want to take it off.”

You tease, “Well good, because you don’t get to yet.”

He laughs, surprised but delighted, and you scoot back on the bed; he follows suit, coming to lay with you, quickly kicking off his pants and shoes. The two of you take a moment to enjoy kissing, teasing and enjoying the feeling of each other’s bodies after a long day of wanting. When you can tell he’s getting restless, making more noise against your mouth, hips grinding against you more urgently, you shift him to lay on his back.

“Missed you, Lu… wanna show you how much,” you murmur, sucking at his neck. You feel the vibrations of the contented hum he lets out as you leave a mark on his throat. You pull back to admire your work, boasting, “Mine,” as you rub over the red spot. 

He strokes over your face, thumb soothing at your skin that’s looking raw from rubbing up against his beard. “Didn’t need a hickey to tell you that, honey,” he replies, looking at you lovestruck. You lean into his touch, kissing his palm before moving on to explore more of his body. 

Luke sweetly fingers through your hair as you kiss over his chest, nibbling at his collarbones, massaging over his pecs, tongue flicking over his nipple. You start to show the other side the same treatment and he gives a quiet whine, hips bucking into the air.

“Patience, my love,” you chide while your hand snakes over his stomach to squeeze his still clothed bulge. “Is this where you want me, babe? Think I’d forget about this cock? Haven’t thought about anything else all day.”

He pants, breath hitching as you drag your nails over the curves and ridges pressing up against his boxers. “I’m just… so… so fucking ready for you, baby.”

“Mmm,” is the only reply you give, tugging his underwear off. A giant sigh of relief escapes him as his cock is freed, dropping onto his stomach, precum immediately dripping onto his skin. You sit between his legs, thinking out loud, “As I remember it, you were also pretty fucking ready before you left this morning, so… I think you can hang on a little longer.”

His stunned silence turns to an interested murmur as you move back up, returning your attention to his nipples. Once you’re satisfied with how puffy and perky they look, you gently push his arms up, indicating you want them above his head. Dazed but trusting, he complies, resting his hands against the headboard. 

He moans loudly as you flash a warm smile at him and lilt, “Good boy,” before pressing a wet kiss to the puzzle piece inked on his left side, now exposed for you. You smooch and nibble at his skin before switching over to trace your tongue along the vertical script running down his right side. You love that his tattoos are almost always covered - sometimes it feels like you’re the only other person who knows that they’re there. And you love knowing you’re the only person who gets the privilege of touching them like this, of teasing them until he’s squirming uncontrollably.

“Babyyyyy,” he hisses as you begin to peck over his stomach, causing you to laugh against his skin. You look up at him innocently, smirking because you’re not sure if his complaint is due to the work your mouth is doing or the friction from your body leaning across his. 

"What do you need, handsome?" 

Luke tries to pout but can't hold back a grin as he playfully whines, "You didn't kiss the bird," looking sadly over at the ink adorning his right bicep. 

"Oh, my mistake," you play along, crawling back up to where his arm is resting behind his head. You press your lips to the tip of the hummingbird's beak, following along the outline of the tattoo before filling the inside of it with smooches. "How could I forget? Such a pretty bird on a pretty guy."

Before you can move back down, he holds his wrists up to you expectantly, watching smugly as you take the hint and kiss the tattoos he has there as well. As you pull away, he silently points to his lips and you giggle with delight.

"Luke."

"What?! I missed you! Thought you missed me too," he defends dramatically, joining your laughter as you lean in closer.

You intend to kiss him softly but you're weak to his advances once he starts adding heat to it, one hand on your ass, the other dipping inside your bra to cup your breast, pinching at your hardened nipple. His hand sneaks from your ass to between your legs and he groans when he feels how wet you are.

"Oh honey, c'mere," he advises, trying to move your body up the bed. "Get on my face, let me take care of you."

Shaking your head adamantly, you wriggle out of his hold and start moving back down his body. "You first," you insist. He begins to protest but you reach back up and press a finger to his lips to quiet him. "Had all day to fantasize about playing with you, want us to both take our time and enjoy it." 

He lights up hearing you mention thinking about him again. "All day, huh? Tell me what you thought about, baby."

He breathes deep as your fingers dance down his chest and stomach, followed by a sharp exhale when your touch skips over where his cock is resting, instead opting to stroke his upper thigh. You watch his face change while he decides whether or not to verbalize his disappointment; he eventually calms and you dip down to lightly peck his hip.

“Thought about how much I love your body… how beautiful it is… how responsive,” you trail off, giving his hip a teasing bite, smiling to yourself when he bucks up against you with a loud yelp. You kiss the small indent and continue down. “Thought about noises like that… you know I fucking love how vocal you are when we’re together, Lu. Makes me feel so good to know I make you feel so good.”

You nip and kiss your way down to his thigh tattoo, making sure to give it the affection it deserves, especially in light of the memory you shared earlier about how sensitive he was that day you visited his studio. He gets louder and you muffle a groan against him, knowing he’s thinking the same things you are; you lift yourself up to his lips, needing to kiss him, needing to be in that moment with him. His cock twitches between your bodies and the two of you moan in erotic harmony.

“No one else has ever made me feel like this, you know,” he tells you, gripping your hair to kiss you one more time. “Can’t remember ever wanting something - someone - this bad before. Never thought feeling you everywhere but my cock could feel so good… get me this hard. God, you’re incredible.”

Beaming, you place your forehead on his. “You’re incredible, babe. You’ve been waiting so long and you’re still letting me love on you like this? Haven’t tried to guide me anywhere, haven’t asked for anything… haven’t even tried touching yourself. You know you could’ve, right? I didn’t tell you not to,” you point out.

He shrugs, as if the option never even crossed his mind. “I know that anything you do is gonna feel a million times better than anything I could do for myself just because it’s you, so.”

“Luuuuuu,” you melt, bringing yourself to his lips again.

He laughs, “That being said…I would like to cum sooner than later.”

You snort, giving him a playful shove as you push yourself up. “Oh is that something you were interested in doing tonight? That what all the moaning and writhing is about?”

He gently knees your side as you settle back between his legs. “Bold talk from a lady who was so horny earlier, I’d barely been gone ten minutes before you had to get yourself off.”

Giggling, you pinch his inner thigh and giggle some more when he’s surprisingly into it, giving a half-moaned, half-yelled reaction. “Whatever, man, I wasn’t the one jerkin’ it in the parking lot of my job.”

“Nooooo, that’s the whole point! I didn’t jerk it, that’s why I need to cum now,” he insists, tone still lighthearted but with a slight edge to it.

He’s getting desperate and you smile, appreciating how fun he is like this. “Aww, baby, you’re so right. This poor, poor cock deserves some attention, doesn’t it?”

Luke nods pitifully and holds his breath as you move in to press a single closed mouth kiss to the tip of his cock.

“Baby.”

You look at him with wide eyes, feigning shock that he’s disappointed. “More?” You place another chaste kiss halfway down his length, followed by one right at the base. You feel his cock throb under your lips, excited even from just that small amount of contact, and you almost feel bad when you hear his exasperated sigh as he realizes your game. You look up again, teasing, “Still not enough? Such a needy cock, isn’t it? Don’t know how you survived the day, babe, must’ve been so tough not giving in. Didn’t give it even one little stroke?”

He feels you moving down and when your breath is on his thighs again, he gasps. “N-no… wanted to wait for you,” he sputters, breath uneven as your lips brush across his skin.

“Good boy,” you purr, licking your lips and giving a wet kiss to his balls. You move over a fraction, kissing again, this time letting your tongue poke through your mouth and his body jerks so hard, you’d have sworn he jumped about five feet off the bed. “You like that, handsome?” 

A choked cry answers your question and you move and kiss again, sloppier, letting your tongue swirl and linger on his skin. His response is still intense, so you continue, using the same technique but traveling lower and kissing longer; his moan is sharper, breathier, and you notice his legs are opening wider for you, his ass scooting closer to your face. 

Oh.

You contemplate his reaction before moving in again, placing a firm, wet kiss to the space just under his balls. The way he whines your name is unlike anything you’ve ever heard before and judging by the ache you suddenly feel between your legs, you’re confident it will play a starring role in every masturbatory experience you have from now on.

“Luke?” You sit up to get a good look at him, biting your lip to keep from audibly reacting as you take in the sight of his flushed face, his curls frizzed from sweat and his hands resting at his sides, balled up into fists in a clear effort to keep himself from tending to his cock, much redder, much shinier and much angrier than it was when you last looked at it.

“Yeah?” He answers weakly, as desperate as he’s ever been but too dazed to hide it now.

You consider your words before deciding there’s really no delicate way of putting it. “Do you… um… should I eat your ass?” 

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, screwing his eyes shut in an attempt to focus. “Is that… do you want to?”

“Lu,” you soothe, stroking his thighs. “Babe, you know we always say if there’s something one of us wants to try, we’ll hear each other out. And this seems like something that’s really turning you on and I’m really interested in exploring that if you are.”

He stares at the ceiling for a beat before focusing his gaze on you. “Yeah… yes. Yes, I- I think I’d like that.”

Breathing deep, he runs his hands through his hair, obviously overwhelmed. Your instinct is to rush up to give him a calming kiss but you fight the urge, wanting to give him space and time to process whatever he’s feeling. Instead, you hug his knee, using your fingers to draw soft circles on his leg, watching as his face softens and after a moment, he looks back down at you.

“You good, babe?”

“Yeah… I just got like, nervous for a second,” he laughs.

“Well that’s okay.” You smile softly, resting your chin on his knee while you talk. “Are you sure you wanna? We don’t have to, you know I’d be more than happy to suck your dick.”

With a naughty grin, he insists, “I mean, I’d be more than happy to have my dick sucked but I do think it’d be fun to try this.”

“Promise you’ll tell me if you change your mind?”

“Of course… and same.”

“Of course.”

Satisfied, you peck each of his knees before spreading them wide again. You dip down, pressing your chest to the bed, popping your own ass to give him a good show. You knead his ass cheeks before gently pushing them apart, pausing to take a steadying breath of your own.

“Love you,” the voice above eagerly offers.

Your head drops to the mattress and you laugh with glee. “Love you too, babe… especially love that you thought to tell me that just as I’m about to lick your ass for the first time.”

He wheezes before deadpanning, “Sounds like the best time to make that known, if you ask me.”

Shaking your head, you start nibbling at his inner thigh again; you suck and nip at his skin, moving closer and closer to unknown territory. When he feels your warm breath between his cheeks, his noises go totally quiet in anticipation of what you’ll do next.

Leaning in, you hold him tightly and lick a long stripe over his entrance; his entire body tenses and he makes the sharpest yet quietest noise you’ve ever heard from him. Just as your brain wonders if that was a good reaction or a bad reaction, he answers your question by rocking his hips up, silently asking for more.

You oblige him, flattening your tongue to cover even more territory, licking slow and wide from his hole back up to his balls and down again. This time, he’s not shy about letting you know how he feels, a few breathy “fuck”s and a shaky “oh god, baby, yes” falling from his lips. You repeat the same route, experimenting with a swirling motion on the way down and the groan it’s met with tells you it was the right decision.

“You like that, babe?” You raise up to check in with him, your question more curious than teasing. “Feeling good?”

Luke’s face is buried in his hands, surprised at how instantly he’s beside himself with want. “It feels fucking amazing,” he reports, voice muffled but clearly wrecked already. 

Looking at his neglected cock, leaking profusely and a deep shade of red, you ask, “Do you want me to jerk you off while I’m ---”

He interrupts, “Jesus, fuck, baby, no!” It takes a beat for him to hear his own reaction and then he giggles at how serious it was. He explains, “I swear to fuck, I will immediately cum all over myself if either one of us touches my dick for even a second.”

“I thought you wanted to cum sooner than later,” you tease.

He props his head up to grin at you. “I like the idea of your tongue in my ass more if I’m honest.”

“The most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me,” you quip, getting back into position. “Also… you said in, so…”

“Oh. I mean… is that… would you?”

You lean in and playfully bite a chunk of cheek. “Honestly, Lu, if it’ll get you to keep making noises like you have been, I’ll do literally anything you want to this sexy ass.” 

He laughs, low and raspy enough to give you chills. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You grab his ass, push his thighs a little higher and dive back in, your tongue flicking wetly over his hole. As you work, the increasing volume of his sighs and the frequency with which he’s bucking into the air gives you confidence and your strokes become firmer, your flutters more teasing. You return to the sensitive skin below his balls, your lips providing gentle pressure before beginning a slight suction, and the prolonged moan he gives in response has you squeezing your legs together, hoping for some pressure of your own.

Emboldened by his feedback, you move down to his rim and apply the same method: pressure followed by suction. Luke can’t stop the whimpers spilling from his lips as yours move over him, breath catching as your tongue starts lapping in time, the sloppily wet sounds permanently etching into his brain. 

He wants to tell you what a good job you're doing, how unbelievable you're making him feel, but it's taking all his concentration not to grind himself back against your face, so all he can think to do is moan. He briefly considers reaching down to thread his hands in your hair and show his appreciation that way but that’d put his hands way too close to his cock and he doesn't trust himself enough not to touch it.

He groans as your grip on his thighs tightens up, trying to get a better angle; your nails dig into his skin as you do your best to keep him steady and he whines, feeling a fresh round of precum run onto his stomach. You press yourself closer, the tip of your tongue up against his opening before cautiously dipping inside. A strained shout escapes him and he claws at the sheets, pushing his ass down to meet your mouth, a tiny “sorry” lost in his throat as you work your tongue inside him and thrust. His head is spinning, he swears he’s never heard himself make the sounds he’s making and when your tongue thrusts into him again, he cries out as his cock twitches involuntarily.

All his noises are going straight to your pussy and you pull back, panting, in desperate need of a break. 

“Luke,” you huff, pecking across his thighs as you lift yourself up to address him. “I’m glad you seem to be enjoying this, babe… I apparently can’t get enough either, I’m absolutely soaked.”

He lifts his head to look at you and you sit up enough for him to see the center of your panties is a much darker shade of pink than it was before. “Holy shit, baby… that’s just from working on me?” You nod, lip between your teeth, and he groans. “God, you’re a fucking dream, you know that? Looking like that, making me feel… fuck, I don’t even know how to describe it… but you’re really, really fucking good at this.”

You grin, basking in his rambled praise. “Well, I’d be lost if I didn’t have such good feedback. All your pretty sounds, the way you keep grinding against my face…”

“Sorry about that,” he chuckles, a hint of shyness in his voice.

“No, Lu, I love knowing I’m making you feel so good. It’s so hot seeing you get so…”

“Slutty?”

You laugh, squeezing his knees affectionately. “I mean, that’s really nothing new, is it?” He giggles, breath slowing as your hands start roaming his legs. Your tone turns teasing, “So slutty… so needy… and yet, still so good for me, huh? Look at that cock! I don’t know if I’ve ever seen it so hard, have you? I’ll bet it’s absolutely aching, isn’t it, baby?”

“Ahhh, uh-huh,” he agrees quietly. He holds his breath as you lean over him, your hands rubbing over his stomach, so close - too close - to where his cock lays.

He gasps as you swirl your finger through some of the precum that’s pooled on his skin, the sensation causing his cock to jump up again.

You moan at the sight, loving that you’ve got him so worked up. Your finger inches closer and he whines helplessly. “You sure you don’t want me to do something about this, babe? Looks like it wouldn’t take much… what do you think? Think I’d be able to get even one stroke in?” You lightly run your nail against his stomach, right next to where his tip is and he lets out what can only be described as a sob. “Think I’d even get my hand around it before you make a mess of us both?” 

You lift your hand as if you’re going to test your theory and he wails your name desperately.

“Good boy,” you coo, backing off, watching the pronounced rise and fall of his chest as he tries to regain composure. You settle back between his legs and check in. “Keep going - yes or no?”

The question has barely left your mouth before he’s rushing out, “Yes, yes, yes, baby.” He slides his hands under his thighs and lifts them up to emphasize his point. “Please.”

Groaning at his eagerness, you feel even more wetness drip onto your lace bottoms. “Let me hear you, baby,” you encourage, softly kissing his cheeks, working your way in. 

You begin a pattern of kitten licks over his entrance that has him instantly moaning. You then teasingly swirl your tongue around - 1, 2, 3, times - and on the final circle you let the tip dart inside him and he lifts his legs even higher, rocking himself towards you, needing more. You duplicate the process but slower, adding in a few extra swirls just to hear his reaction - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 - and your taunting is met with a series of increasingly frantic whines and a few strangled pleas of your name. When you finally flit your tongue inside, the relieved “Oh my fucking god, baby, yes, that” feels a hundred times better than the orgasm you gave yourself earlier.

As you continue, Luke feels like he’s lost control - his hips pumping against you seemingly of their own accord, his voice producing a consistent stream of sounds he doesn’t recognize, his cock springing up with interest yet again. And does he always leak this much precum? Fuck. You squeeze his ass, your hair tickling his cheeks as you wiggle, working your tongue in deeper; he notices a distinct sensation spreading through his body but he’s so overwhelmed he can’t quite place it yet. 

He looks down to see your head moving in a familiar bobbing motion and he has to groan as his mind acknowledges that he’s being blessed with one of his favorite visuals not because you’re sucking him off, but eating his ass.

“So good, baby… so fucking good,” he praises dreamily.

You murmur against him in appreciation, giving his ass another squeeze and he whimpers, that confusing sensation running through him again but more insistent. You’re effectively fucking him with your tongue, digging your nails into his skin, trying to hold on as he fucks back against you, and when your own muffled moans start pouring from your throat, that same mystery sensation returns to his body with such intensity, it demands to be recognized.

Oh. 

It takes up until the second that Luke starts cumming for him to realize that’s what’s happening and it’s not until he feels the first rope of cum hit his chest that he actually believes it. He tries to call your name but all that comes out is the first letter followed by a bunch of unintelligible cries, voice unfamiliar as his body shudders. His cock pulses and throbs mindlessly, spraying his release near and far, coating his entire torso all the way from his belly to his chest. 

The high of this orgasm seems to have no limit, building and building even when it seems like it's beyond time to fall back down to earth. He tries to express this thought but his breath comes out in short, wrecked sobs while his arms shake as he struggles to hold his legs in the air. It’s probably the most exhilarating - and bewildering - thing he’s ever felt and when it finally crescendos, he gives an elongated groan of something resembling your name and lets his limbs drop down as he melts into the bed.

As soon as his legs hit the mattress, you’re racing over to his side. “Luke? Baby. Oh my god,” you fuss. He looks absolutely destroyed - hair disheveled, skin flushed, eyes tightly shut. His breath is steadier than it was but still labored, heaving chest covered in sweat and cum. He’s never looked more beautiful. You speak tenderly, stroking his cheek, “You did so good, Lu, oh my god, that was incredible, baby… are you okay?”

His eyes flutter open, still a bit glazed. He takes a moment before he answers. “Yeah… I… just… whoa.”

“Yeah, definitely whoa,” you laugh quietly, pushing the curls off his forehead. “I’ve never… did you know you could -- “

He shakes his head. “Nope. Never happened before, not even close.” He chuckles in disbelief. “I didn’t even know it was happening until it was happening.” 

You giggle with him. “I felt your body like, pulse and before I even had time to think about it, you were moaning and… oh my god, babe…” You move closer to snuggle him but he holds his hands out to stop you.

“Messy,” he laughs sheepishly, gesturing at his sticky skin.

With a comforting squeeze to his arm, you promise, “One sec,” and hop off the bed, hurrying to the en suite. Luke closes his eyes, the sound of the running faucet serving as the perfect white noise as he lays there, content but exhausted. Several moments later, he feels the bed dip, followed by the pleasant sensation of a warm washcloth moving across his chest.

“Thank you, honey,” he says quietly, reaching out to squeeze your hip. He traces the waistband of your panties admiringly. “Couldn’t let these gorgeous pieces get stained… not yet, anyway.”

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and you snort. “Such a thoughtful lover,” you joke, softly flicking him with the washcloth before tossing it aside.

“Well actually, speaking of which,” he starts, hand moving to rub over the now transparent from arousal patch of your underwear. “What should we do about this?”

“I was actually gonna see if you wanted a snack,” you shrug, patting his now clean skin dry with a new towel. He narrows his eyes skeptically and you explain simply as you pass him his water bottle. “I came this morning.”

“Oh, trust me, I remember,” he smirks, taking the bottle but grabbing your arm to pull you close. He caresses your cheek, continuing, “But you seemed happy - eager even - to have another so I wanna check that you’re not passing it up just because you made me cum my brains out and think now you gotta take care of me.”

You take a thoughtful sip from your water. “I guess I got a little worked up watching you… and talking to you over the course of the day… and looking at the pictures of your dick that you sent me,” you shrug again, a coy smile creeping at the corners of your lips. “I just… that was so intense, babe, are you sure you don’t need anything?”

He opens his arms and you don’t hesitate to accept the invitation, curling up on him, letting him wrap himself around you. “Honestly all I need is to feel my girl laying in my arms… heart racing, hips bucking…” He kisses sweetly over your face, ghosting over your lips before darting down to suck under your jaw instead. He runs his hand over the mark he leaves, tracing his thumb over your mouth. “Little gasps, sweet moans spilling out from these beautiful lips… if that’s something you think you might be interested in.”

Your eyes meet his as you suck his thumb between your lips, biting gently. “Well… if it’ll make you feel better, I guess,�� you joke, sighing as you’re pulled into a passionate kiss. 

His fingers toy with the caged straps of your bra and he whispers, “Wanna be naked with me?” You eagerly nod, hissing quietly as he unfastens you; you help him pull the material off and then quickly shimmy out of your bottoms. You shiver under his appreciative gaze as he murmurs, “That’s my good girl,” before capturing your lips again.

The makeout is slow and familiar, a lovely juxtaposition to the frenzied experimentation you’re both still coming down from. His hand makes its way down your body, slipping between your legs and you both groan as he starts stroking through your wet folds. You almost instantly start rocking your hips into his touch - you’ve been waiting to feel his hands on you all day and you’ve been so turned on for so long and your body is so grateful to finally have some relief.

He laughs raspily, “Baby… after all that buildup, don’t you think you deserve more than humping my hand?” You whine as he pulls away and whine again when you see him reaching over into “the fun drawer.” He grabs the first toy he touches and it happens to be the one you used this morning. He clicks the button and it whirs to life, thrusting back and forth enthusiastically, much to his delight. “Look at this bad boy! I’ve always wanted to watch you with this one.”

“Well pay attention because it’s not gonna last long,” you laugh.

After some discussion, he props some pillows up against the headboard and sits back with his legs open for you to lay between. You relax into him, immediately angling your head for a kiss while Luke’s first order of business is getting his hands on your breasts. You tease each other a bit - your teeth tugging his lip, his ringed fingers twirling your nipples - and then he’s nudging you to pick up the vibrator.

“Been thinking about this since I saw that picture,” he admits, watching carefully as you drag the toy down your body.

You run the tip up and down your pussy, getting it nice and wet before lightly circling your clit. “I always wait until the last minute to turn it on… it feels too good,” you explain, teasing your opening and then pulling it away, your hips tilting up in hopes of reconnecting with the toy. “Even just putting it in is too much sometimes because I know how good it’s about to make me feel.” You torment yourself a few more times and then finally let it slip in, sighing loudly as it glides inside you.

“Fuck,” Luke breathes, rubbing your legs soothingly as he stares, slack-jawed.

One hand fits the toy inside you while your other interlaces your fingers with his. “Oh this is gonna be so quick,” you laugh, leaning back to kiss his neck. “You ready?”

"I don't know," he giggles, squeezing your thigh. "Ready to see you come apart, baby."

You keep your gaze trained on his face, your hand using sense memory to locate the power button and turn it on. A deep groan escapes your throat instantly as the shaft of the toy begins vibrating and pumping inside you. You quickly click it down to a low setting and reach to adjust the arm meant to stimulate your clit, your eyes rolling back the moment it lands on the right spot.

"Feels good?" He asks quietly, visibly gulping as you nod and lick your lips. He runs his hands up from your legs, caressing over your hips, your stomach and finally your tits again, where his touch lingers. "As good as this morning?"

Bringing him into a kiss, you sigh, "Better… you're here now." You roll your hips with the slow rhythm of the vibrator, not yet ready to crank it up to your usual setting and have this end. "Don't gotta imagine your hands on my body, your voice in my ear, your breath on me… you're here."

"So glad I'm here, honey," he reassures, kissing your face. You press a button to change the pattern of the vibrations and gasp into his mouth. He groans, wanting to help you along, "Did you pretend it was me fucking you? My cock inside you?"

You confirm breathily, "Oh, Lu, yes… Pretended you were still in bed with me… like the phone never rang… like we just woke up and you were on my neck, telling me how much you wanted me… pretended we were back in that moment and I told you to slip it in like I wished I would’ve… oh god, Lu, c’mere.” You reach for his hand, panting.

The sudden shift of intensity in your tone has Luke breathing as heavy as you, rushing to do as requested. You guide his hand around the bottom of the toy’s shaft, right where it’s peeking out of your body; you watch his jaw drop as you cycle through the settings, landing on the rhythm and speed that always leaves you seeing stars.

He looks at you wide-eyed. “No way,” he laughs, feeling the strong buzz and rapid thrusts. “Baby, this is gonna launch you into space.”

“Counting on it,” you giggle, turning it back down while you move his hand to the base of the toy and adjust his hold so it’s at the angle you need. As soon as he’s in position, you turn the power back up and let out a pronounced moan.

“That’s it, lemme hear those beautiful sounds, honey,” he encourages, his free hand gripping your breast tight, hoping to both get you off and steady you.

The whines only get louder as your back arches into his touch and your hips stutter, your body too stimulated to follow along with the vibe's movements. It drives into you over and over at that delicious angle and you bury your face into Luke's neck, muffling a cry as you feel your climax start to light up every single cell in your body. 

The pleasure rushes through you, the chemicals flood your system and most importantly, your boyfriend’s arms tighten around you. The orgasm is great - fantastic even - but feeling this good while being this close to him is what makes all the waiting, all the teasing, all the frustration of the day worth it.

“Oh, that’s it, baby… what a good girl… look so unbelievable when you cum for me,” he encourages as you huff and shake in his embrace. A few seconds later, your body settles and your breathing quiets but a small whimper remains and he knows that means you’re done with the vibrator. He shuts it off and carefully pulls it out, soothing in a soft voice, “I know, baby, that was so much… it’s alright, I’ve got you.”

He gently eases you onto your pillow, freeing up his arm to grab the tissue box off the nightstand. You pout and make grabby hands at him as he stops to wipe down your toy; he grins, pecking your lips before starting to clean you up as well. Neither of you have much to say, content with simply trading soft smiles and softer touches. 

Luke lays his head on your chest, gazing up lovingly at you, and you tangle your fingers in his curls, loving the way his eyelashes flutter as you comb through his hair. You take the moment in until something occurs to you. “Hey, babe, I don’t think I ever actually thanked you for those flowers? They’re gorgeous… that was really sweet of you.”

“Aww, honey, I’m glad you liked them!” He beams proudly. His expression briefly falters but he shakes it off and continues, “I wanted to kind of acknowledge and apologize for this morning… I promised this would be our day and I should’ve taken a minute to find a compromise instead of just taking off like it was nothing.”

“Luuuuuke,” you whine, stroking his cheek softly. “I know I complained at first but you know I understand the band comes first - it’s your job and it’s important. You’ve got a lot of people counting on you.”

He shrugs. “I had you counting on me and you’re someone I don’t ever wanna disappoint. I should’ve asked if you wanted to come have lunch or something. I don’t know where my head was at.”

“Well, babe, I appreciate the apology but I still had a pretty fun day,” you reassure him, smirk curling the edges of your mouth.

“Is that so? I never would’ve guessed,” he jokes, pushing up to kiss you. “Glad to hear you had a good day, though… spent most of mine worrying I’d ruined it.”

You giggle, “Babe, I’m pretty sure the only thing that got well and truly ruined today was you.”

He laughs with you, a faint blush spreading over his skin. “So best case scenario then,” he cracks, pressing another kiss on your lips.

He sits up, sipping his water, passing yours over when you prop yourself up next to him. You suddenly remember to ask, “Hey, how was the studio, by the way? How’d our song turn out?”

Luke grins. “Oh, is it our song?”

With a naughty smile, you explain. “I don’t know about you but I doubt I’ll be able to think about anything besides tonight when I hear it.”

“Well… tonight and the night I wrote it.”

“See.”

“You’re right, it’s definitely our song,” he giggles, squeezing your knee. “I really like what it’s turning into, I think it’s almost where it needs to be.”

Your brow scrunches, confused. “Almost? Wasn’t it due today?”

“Oh!” He laughs, shaking his head. “The deadline actually got extended.”

“What?!”

“Mmm hmm, some kind of server maintenance - the label apparently can’t handle any incoming files for a day or two. So we all decided we should use that time and really get it right.”

You’re quiet for a moment before offering a simple, “Interesting.”

Luke can tell you’re calculating if this will affect your time together again and he slinks his arm around you, leaning your head on his shoulder. “It doesn’t need nearly as much work as it did today though, so hopefully it won’t take up too much of the day.” 

“Yeah, hopefully.”

With a smile, he adds, “But just in case, I’m thinking my phone’s gonna accidentally die overnight, what about yours?”

——————————————— Thank you for reading!

[tantumuna]

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Silco (Arcane: League of Legends)/Vander (League of Legends) Characters: Silco (Arcane: League of Legends), Vander (League of Legends) Additional Tags: Alternate Timelines, Top Silco (Arcane: League of Legends), Bottom Vander (League of Legends), Praise Kink, Pet Names, Teasing, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Doggy Style

Summary: Silco and Vander are supposed to be closing The Last Drop and heading home, but as always, Vander lets a few patrons stay late. If they're to stay late, Silco has other plans for how they might enjoy it.

[hottakendragon]

HOTSINGLEDRAGON’S KINKTOBER

A’ONUNG X FEM READER

MDNI

art by @cinetrix 🖤

handjob - oloekytan aonung x tsahik reader

Maybe yall are mated and just enjoying a nice morning in ur home :)

aonung’s sat outside your mauri, overlooking the coast that stretches hazily into the horizon. sunlight filters through the leaves, and there is a light breeze lifting his curls and cooling his back. it’s so serene, and aonung drifts in the comfort of the warm morning.

you move into his peripheral, and instantly his eyes are locked on you, pitched low as he trails your figure.

you’re a dream this morning. your skin glitters with a sheen of sweat, and the intricacy of beads and shells accentuates your body.

aonung’s gaze settles on the thin string of your tewng stretching over your plump hips. his signature smirk only grows as he catches the sway in your step; he knows that saunter, that sway in your step and the slight arch in your back that speaks of desire.

“yawne,” aonung mellows, his voice syrupy and dark. “won’t you sit with me?” he calls, less of a question and edging on a demand. he extends an open palm towards you

and when you are close enough, he’s pulling you into his lap, a large hand gripping at the juncture just under your bum at the back of your thigh. you nearly fall on top of him, catching yourself with his shoulder. the muscle flexes under your weight, and aonung steadies you with a large palm at your waist. you lean into aonung, knees propped on either side of his thigh. aonung is relaxed with you above him, head tilted back and watching you, an easy and handsome smirk gracing his lips.

Your breaths pant against one another, and aonung’s eyes track over your cheeks, the glow of your tahni and finally your lips.The powdery blue of his irises are flooded by dark, dilated pupils. “You’re so beautiful, tsahik.”

aonung’s hand slides up your back, grabs and squeezes the nape of your neck as he drags you in for a heated kiss. immediately his tongue is swiping over your lip and you’re making out, aonung’s fingers indenting the flesh at your hip and pulling you into him. you can feel his half hard cock pushing against the fabric of your tewng, and you settle into his lap, distributing your weight to press against his cock.

he bursts with a moan, one that’s whining and desperate, and you lean back to take in the sight. aonung is debauched after only a bit of grinding, breathing rapidly and cheeks blushing. His lips are plump and slick, and eyes cloudy with lust. aonung looks at you as if you’ve hung the moon.

there’s that sensation clawing deep inside of your belly. This is one of your favorite versions of aonung, his need making you possessive, wanton, and bold.

You lean in for another kiss that slides wetly over aonungs mouth, and let your nail scratch lightly down the center of his abdomen. aonung hisses at the sensation, and your palm flattens as you trail lower, pressing down on his lower abdomen and feeling the muscles tense under your fingers. as your hand glides towards his cock, his hips buck beneath you.

“Shhh, just let me take care of you, okay?” you say in that voice, slow and warm like honey as you loosen the string of his loincloth.

You love the sight of his cock, the gradient from cerulean to dusty rose at his tip, accentuated by two thick veins and his glowing tahni. precome is already beading at his slit, and the sight makes your mouth water.

Aonung’s breath hitches as you take him in hand, spreading pre over his shaft even as you smile innocently at him. he hums at your enthusiasm, his palms find your waist and he sighs as you give him a firm stroke from his root to tip

You pump his length at an even pace, twisting your fist on the upstroke, watching aonung as his eyes flutter and he blows a puff of air from his plump mouth

Aonung begins to grow impatient with the pace you’ve set, whimpering and grappling for your flesh, wanting to use you as leverage to fuck into your fist. but you deny him that pleasure, completely taking your hand away each time he gets a little too excited. Aonung cries out, a desperate whine spilling past his lips.

“Stop your teasing, my love, you’re driving me crazy,” aonung pleads, voice wrecked and his baby blues glossed over.

“Nuh uh, baby, be patient,” you say, twisting your fist torturously around his swollen tip.

“Ah! Shit-“ he curses. You love having him like this, reduced to whines and pleads for your touch. He needs you bad, always trying to kiss your lips and buck into your hand but you deny him every time.

“Baby, please, you’re being mean,” aonung whimpers, his eyes watering with frustration

“Shh, it’s okay, just tell me what you want. You wanna come like this?”

Aonung whimpers helplessly, so caught up in his pleasure that he can only give you a vigorous nod of his head. He even leans up to kiss you, lips puckered cutely. You indulge him with a small peck of your lips against his, and aonung whimpers at the fleeting feeling. You can’t help but smile at your husband’s demeanor

“just a little more, baby, doing so good,” you praise him, leaving a kiss at the corner of his open mouth. you whisper in his ear, taunting him and telling him how good he is, what a good man and leader he is.

“Fuck! Oh fuck I’m gonna come,” He cries out for you. The sound of his voice and feel of his fingers gripping your flesh brings you so much pleasure, so much that you can feel the slick slipping between your folds.

You slow to a stop, placing one hand at the base of his cock. You collect saliva in your mouth and let the string drip onto his slit. Your other hand envelopes the head of his dick, fucking it over with quick, sloppy strokes. You tighten your grip, sending aonung into a hysterical fit of moans.

“Gonna come, baby? S’it feel that good? Show me how good it feels,” you taunt him, working over him with building ferocity. You finally let him thrust into the tight space of your slick palm, watching his hips stutter, his eyes flutter closed.

You take one of your hands from him, grabbing his chin. “Look at me, aonung, look at me when you come,” you tell him, holding him gently as your other hand works over him furiously.

Aonung’s brow is scrunched, his eyes shining and pretty as he gazes into your own. “Fuck,” he says weakly, enamored by your beauty and touch, coming with a punched out moan.

You coo at aonung, encouraging him through his orgasm with a steady hand on his dick, smoothing his hair and wiping the sweat from his brow. You chance a look downward, watching his come leak over your fist. you wear a satisfied grin, your own arousal spurred by aonung’s release. He’s panting to catch his breath, eyes closed and lashes dusting the top of his cheeks.

Your heart skips a little when those eyes are suddenly open and watching you, pale blue and determined.

Then aonung has his hands under your ass, lifting you and walking into your home. He throws you gently into the bed, climbing over you and knocking your knees apart. He holds you open with his palm at the back of your thigh, pushing it to your chest.

“That was good, paskalin,” aonung says, and he’s back to sly self, a lecherous smirk stretches his lips and revealing his sharp canines. his fingers tease at the knot of your loincloth, slowly pulling the length of leather strap to unravel at your hips.

Aonung pushes the cloth away, eyeing the slick between your puffy folds and careful not to touch your just yet.

“But I can do better,” he rumbles lowly, teasing the tip of his cock on your slit, delivering three rough taps against your clit.

notes: woooahhh first time participating in kinktober post and first day! this was so fun to write, i love writing for aonung he’s just so mmmhmhmhmm. Prompt pulled from luna’s KINKTOBER!

tagged: @pandoraslxna

please reblog, like, and comment if you enjoyed and want more aonung!

[quinn-of-aebradore]

It’s all Kingsley can do to keep him out of his lap once they’re sitting because he knows he won’t be able to keep his hands to himself if he does and Caleb gets mopey when they get started without him on date nights. The last thing he wants tonight is a mopey Caleb Widogast. “Save some of yourself for Caleb, darling,” he mutters, a laugh lilting his voice, as he firmly keeps Essek planted on the lounge beside him. “You can enjoy me from here.” Or; Caleb is stuck in a meeting, Essek goes to Darktow early to wait with Kingsley, and Kingsley decides the two of them should get dressed up for Caleb. Also, they're both incredibly horny but neither want to get started without Caleb there. What could go wrong?

Originally intended as a a Wildflowers treat for @luddlestons, I fully lost control of the word count to Purple Horiness(TM) so now it's just a behemoth of a gift fic XD Luddles! I hope you enjoy the nonsense! Thank you for the SWK prompt, it was really fun to write Kingsley for once and I will definitely endeavor to write more of him from here on out 💜���💜💜

[justiceforfoxface]

i agree we need more sfw coriolanus fics

can i request a fic where corio and reader are acquaintances in university, until they slowly but surely become closer and closer

i just want to read your depiction of coriolanus and what he’d be like in uni 😍

ok a) amazing idea b) i did not know what format to put this in so it sounds weird to me but i hope it sounds okay to yall c) enjoy :)

*I DON’T HAVE A CREATIVE TITLE FOR THIS*

:) 

Coriolanus Snow x Reader

Warnings: none. no use of y/n. this is sfw because were severely lacking in coryo fluff.

tried to keep coryo mostly canon here but i hope you like it :)

……..

Coriolanus Snow.

Everyone knew of him.

No one knew about him-or, that is to say, what he was really like. Just that he studied under Dr. Gaul herself and didn’t have any friends.

You had worked together once before, and you walked the same route to school. Every day, you would acknowledge each other, with just a nod, and that would be it. 

It probably seemed like just another thing to cross off on his daily to-do list to him, but to you, it was genuinely nice. You didn’t have many friends either, so even though he was acknowledging you out of pure manners and no actual friendliness, it made you feel a little happier.

One day, you got to University for breakfast like you did any time they served it. It didn’t taste good, but it was edible and filling, which was all that mattered to most students of the University when they had to get up early and clean themselves up to attend school.

You got yourself some food and then sat at a table, prepared to people-watch like you always did. Not in a creepy, stalkerish way. Just in a way that, if you had a camera and a permit, would be completely normal.

And your first people-watching subject, like it was most of the time, was none other than Coriolanus Snow himself.

He ate alone at the opposite corner of the room, his eyes never leaving his meal. He was the only student that didn’t have some sort of constant gossip about them, and yet he interested you the most because of that very reason. 

And then, his piercing blue eyes looked up and went directly to you, catching you in the act of staring at him and startling you. When he looked at you, you tensed up. You weren’t quite sure what you were bracing yourself for, but it couldn’t be good.

Instead, he just looked back down at his meal and continued to eat as if nothing had ever happened. 

Strange.

Your eyes traveled over the crowd of University students to move on to watching Lysistrata Vickers.

………

You get your breakfast the next day at the University like any other day, only to find Coriolanus Snow sitting at your table, directly across from where you normally would sit.

You consider walking over to his normal table and sitting there, but your curiosity overcomes you and you sit across from him. You eat in silence for a minute or two before he speaks.

“You were watching me yesterday.”

There was no point in denying it. “I was.”

“Why?”

There was no point in lying, either, not really. “Because I was interested. As to why you don’t have any friends, and why you sit alone every day.”

Coriolanus goes silent, and you begin to wonder if you’ve said something wrong. But then, he stabs at his meal with his fork and says, “I’m sitting here right now, aren’t I?”

You don’t know how to respond to that, and you doubt he’d take kindly to you saying, “That doesn’t count,” so instead, you stay quiet.

And it’s the best breakfast you’ve had since you began university.

…..

This becomes part of your daily routine as well. You and Coriolanus walked to school together, and sat and ate breakfast together in silence. No one else noticed the change, or they just didn’t ask about it. Sometimes, you would greet Coriolanus, or ask how his day was going, but you wouldn’t get long responses. He didn’t seem one for small talk.

You were one for small talk, but you could respect that he wasn’t. 

He spoke to you sometimes in class, as he did to other students. If he disagreed with anyone-or agreed-everyone would know it.

One day, after class, your things fall on the floor, and as you pick them up, Lysistrata approaches you, hands your book to you, and says, “I don’t know what you did, but it’s working.”

“What?” you say, very confused.

“Coriolanus.” Lysistrata explains. “Haven’t you noticed? He eats with you. He actually talks to you, and it’s not just to call you a failure. I think he likes you.”

“That doesn’t mean he likes me, it means he tolerates me.”

Lysistrata raises her eyebrow. “With Coriolanus, tolerating you is just him expressing his love for you. Trust me.” Her voice changes slightly. “I’ve seen it.”

You weren’t a mentor, but you remember once hearing that Coriolanus had some sort of something with his tribute last year. Lucy Gray Baird. From Twelve. 

You decided to ignore Lysistrata and ask Coriolanus about it the next day. She was joking, right? Or perhaps she was serious and just very wrong. Coriolanus didn’t love you.

Although, if he did-you wouldn’t turn him down.

……

The next morning, you build up your confidence on the walk to the University. The silence seems more awkward than peaceful.

When you get to breakfast and sit down comfortably, you slowly begin with, “You know, yesterday, Lysistrata was talking to me.”

“Hmm?” Coriolanus said. He was uninterested, which was clear as he took a bite of his food and largely ignored what you were saying.

You pressed on. “She said something…strange. About..you.”

That got his attention. His eyes went straight to yours, and you felt heat rise in your cheeks. 

Why couldn’t his eyes be brown or something?

“What’d she say?” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin and putting his fork down.

“She said…” You started losing all your confidence as his eyes read your soul. “She said she thought that you, um, loved me.”

There was no reaction on his face. “What did you say to her?”

“I said I thought she was lying.”

You cleared your throat, already drying up from nerves. “Was she?”

“What do you think?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

You became slightly irritated, even though you knew it was never good to be irritated at Coriolanus Snow. “I just said I thought she was lying, was she?”

A small smirk curved up the edge of his lips as he put another forkful of food to his mouth. “Yes.”

Your smile was pasted on your face on the outside, but on the inside, your face fell. You really thought you had something. That maybe you could’ve gotten the elusive Coriolanus Snow to show emotions. But maybe it was just a stupid idea.

“Right.” You whispered this, trying not to let your voice crack.

Why am I crying? Don’t cry. It’s a little thing. Don’t let it get to you.

You felt a surprisingly warm hand on your face, and you saw Coriolanus gently wiping a tear off of your cheek. 

“Don’t cry,” he said with a surprising gentleness. 

“Sorry,” you said, nodding and yet trying not to shake his hand off of your face. It was a nice, warm touch. “It’s a-it’s a stupid thing to cry about, I know.”

“Love’s not stupid.” Coriolanus said it almost angrily, and yet the anger was not directed at you. “Trust me, it’s not. It’s not stupid, but it does make you do…stupid things.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” You were praying that the next words he said were, Like saying you don’t love someone when you really do, but instead he just said, “…lots of things.”

…

Your daily routine stayed mostly the same. Except you talked during breakfast. About what? Everything. Some days, political conversations that bored you to death and made the spark in his eyes light up more than anything. And some days, conversations about the most random things that made both of you laugh.

Coriolanus’s laugh was what made you understand why people found rare things so precious. It was hard to get him to laugh, but you tried as much as you could every day, and relished in the little burst of happiness you got every time his small smile expanded and his eyes lit up.

You began to think he had maybe been lying about not loving you-but you tried not to think about it often, just in case you jinxed it.

But…he wouldn’t move away if your elbows or knees brushed against each other. With each passing day, he seemed more interested in what you had to say. 

And sometimes, when you walked to school together, your hands would brush, and he’d wrap his hand around yours, your hand disappearing in his, your fingers intertwined.

He’d always let go when you got close to the university, leaving your hand warm.

But you hoped one day he would walk up the stairs still holding your hand, or maybe even all the way to breakfast, and he’d sit next to you instead of across from you. 

It would happen someday, you hoped. But you knew Coriolanus wasn’t going to do that for just anybody. And even though you hoped you were more than just anybody to him, you were willing to be patient.

Word Count: 1,494

[jadeoru]

psst! hey! wanna see something scary?

ya know that new movie coming out soon? i heard it was based off of a true story! apparently they never solved the case… how about we try?

taglist: (open) join here!

i heard the cause of death was murder! the cops never found the culprit, but apparently the suspects were:

sakusa, akaashi, iwaizumi, hinata, atsumu, osamu, bokuto, kiyoko, kuroo, suna, gojo, geto, shoko, choso & vash the stampede!

sorry if ur fave isnt here, i probably just dont like them/dont know how to write for them!

have you discovered who the killer is? awesome! lets move on to the weapon they used!

★ . knife (smut)

★ . rubber duck (fluff)

★ . poison (angst)

★ . gun (hurt/comfort)

now that that’s out of the way, i wonder why they did it? lets figure out their motive.

★ . anger (enemies to lovers)

★ . jealousy (love triangle)

★ . love (yandere)

★ . accident (friends to lovers)

★ . framed (fake dating)

★ . insanity (forced proximity)

phew.. i think we covered everything. case closed! (unless there’s something you forgot to add?) thank you for the help!

please note: limited time only! will stop accepting requests at november 1st, 01/11.

you can request on anon, however, you are not allowed to request smut on anon. and please specify whether you want fem!reader, or gender neutral. i will not write male!reader, sorry! up to 2 requests per person!

make sure asks have at least one of each category in them! have fun requesting! 🔪

completed: 0/11

01: after hours - kiyoko shimizu.

02: close call - shoko ieri

03: like or like like? - gojo satoru

04: out for blood - sakusa kiyoomi & iwaizumi hajime

05: are they gonna fuck or fight? - akaashi keiji

06: dripping rose - suguru geto

[joeytime]

Maxiel Hogwarts Au...

If you asked Max what he thought of Hogwarts, he would likely make a joke about pigs and insult their quidditch teams.

He isn't sure it's smart to do that now, in the middle of the Hogwarts' grand hall, completely surrounded by Hogwarts' students and staff. He isn't sure he could escape even if he had his broom.

"Wow, you really hate Hogwarts." The dreaded hat says atop his hair.

Shut up! Max thinks furiously at it. Get out of my head!

Everyone stares intensely at Max, not daring to breathe while the fate of the member of the national quidditch team is being decided. Even the teachers are at the edge of their seats, other than Dumbledore, he seems to know where Max will inevitably end up.

"Little quidditch champion. Everyone is expecting" The hat says, as if it's life of forever moving from head to head to call one of four words is somehow a greater destiny than Max's.

It's not. Max knows he will go on to succeed in life, and win as many quidditch championships as he wants and then retire on an island in The Maldives with a butt load of cash while the hat is left in a dusty room, waiting for it's yearly use. Max wants to reach to rip it up but it would not be wise to do so in front of Dumbledore himself. His hands stay in his lap, frown etched on his face.

"Impatient. Immature." Max's fingers twitch slightly. There is only so much backtalk one can take from a hat.

"Violent and uncaring, wherever will I put you?" Max doesn't agree with that description, he cares plenty, about winning that is.

"Foolish. Foolish boy." It doesn't hurt, Max has heard those words plenty of times.

Max sulks.

It's a beat of silence before the suspense reaches its climax. "Hufflepuff! " The hat hollers, not bothering to consult Max on it's decision. Which is very rude and impolite.

The entire room erupts into chaos, screams of "What! " and "No way! No way!" echo throughout the hall.

Max can't help but agree, he thought he might end up in Gryffindor or Slytherin, maybe Ravenclaw if he was super unlucky. But Hufflepuff? His father was going to disown him. The media are going to have a field day. Well they were going to already, regardless of which house Max was put in.

Dumbledore moves to pull the hat off of Max, the treacherous thing whispers one last time: "Things will make sense in time. Be patient. Do not mope."

Max doesn't mope. Verstappens can't mope, so he doesn't.

Dumbledore gently guides a slightly speechless Max to the Hufflepuff table, pushing him into the seat before winking and walking off.

Max wants to burn down this school.

Cheers erupt from the Hufflepuff table, hands coming to pat him on the back and fawn over him.

The other tables seem miserable at the prospect of losing out on a quidditch champion.

"Oh my god! Hi! Hi! Oh my god! It's you!" A boy excitedly chatters to his left, other students crowd around him and Max suddenly finds that he can't breathe. It's like he's small again, after being knocked off his broom by an overly excited big kid. He had fallen to the ground, too exhausted and overwhelmed to get back up.

His father had been mad, really mad. He hadn't slept well again after that.

"Guys! Guys! He doesn't look so good. " Whoever that is, is definitely right, Max can hardly breathe, he tries to use the breathing technique his father taught him after his first match, control his breathing. It doesn't work, it only causes the panic and urgency in his veins to surge. It did work, it's purpose was to put him on guard, not calm down.

He curls into himself, hands around his ears to protect from the deafening sound of crowds cheering. His bubble of personal space is of course pried and poked at. Fans never had any self awareness when it came to these matters and his father never did have sympathy for personal space.

Hands are pried away from him, he can hear outraged screeching at the action. His own quidditch team's screams when he was 6 years old and pulled away to join the older kids. They thought it wasn't fair that a small boy climbed the ranks faster than they did.

"Hey! Hey! Everyone back up right now!" The entire opposing team bombarding him in an attempt to stop him. The referee's reprimand that fell on deaf ears.

The people at his sides are replaced and gentle hands hold him back up, out of the ball he curled himself into.

Max doesn't dare look up, too afraid at the thought of seeing his father's judgemental look.

"Hey, are you okay? " Max turns his head, soft, gentle, warm eyes, concerned. Jos was never concerned, he was the uncaring one! Not Max!

"I'm fine. " A repeated response, practiced again and again every time he came home to his mother.

The teen with the soft eyes gestures for another boy to sit on Max's other side. The boy opposite Max looks on in concern.

"Hello. I'm Daniel Riccardo, I'm a prefect of Hufflepuff, it's nice to meet you." The gentle boy says, eyes still filled with concern.

"Max Verstappen. " Max manages to choke out.

"The boy on your left is Yuki Tsunoda and that's Lando Norris." Daniel gestures to the boy sitting opposite Max, who waves shyly.

The ruckus Max's sorting caused calms down and everyone settles down to listen to Dumbledore's welcome back speech which luckily does not mention Max.

Max feels strange between Riccardo and Tsunoda, like dread wrapped in false cotton. Norris also peers at him from time to time, creep.

They're sent back to their dorms. Max tells Riccardo that he can get there on his own but the older boy frowns and insists that he takes Max. Max thinks his father would be disappointed at his complacency but he doesn't have the strength to fight it.

Riccardo leads him to the kitchen, Max wants to snap some insult about him being a goody two shoes and how this is none of his business. He holds his tongue.

Riccardo gestures to a specific barrel, looking more worn out than the ones around it. He taps a certain beat, perhaps it's a secret code. That's childish, Max decides, they are not children playing in a fort.

The barrel swings open.

Max grimaces at the small tunnel.

"Here, you try tapping it." Riccardo puts Max's hand to the barrel.

Max repeats the rhythm perfectly. Memory exercises were part of his training.

Once Riccardo is satisfied, he points at the tunnel, almost as if he wants Max to crawl through it.

Max scrunches his nose, seriously? The older boy points more urgently and Max relents, shoving himself through the tunnel.

Well, not shoving, he's not really big, a fact his father loathed, putting him on diets with large sums of proteins and even attempting to use transfiguration spells before it was put to a stop by his mother.

Max wished his mother had not stopped his father. Maybe he would have an excuse not to join this god forsaken house.

It's an agonizing 5 second crawl before he pops out the other end right in front of Lando Norris, the boy before.

Daniel appears behind him, putting a hand on Max's shoulder.

"So Max, this is the Hufflepuff house. You know Yuki and Lando. That's Oscar, Nico and Valtteri." Riccardo urges the boys to come forward.

"It's Verstappen. " Max declares, Riccardo quirks an eyebrow and the rest of the boys look equally confused.

"Hi! I'm Lando! I'm like a huge fan, do you mind signing this for me? " The boy's yellow robes are somehow orange.

Max's PR training kicks in and he smiles one of those sickly sweet smiles that his father loves to wipe off his face before ordering him to smile again. His posture straightens and he reaches a hand around the younger boy's shoulders, patting him on his back once, twice. Just like he rehearsed.

"Sure! " His tone is so obviously a faux sweet as he reaches to retrieve the black marker from his back pocket. The boy has stars in his eyes and Max feels guilty, he always does. He's a fraud.

He signs the hat from his national team, the one he left behind.

He wishes he didn't.

"Hey, are you okay Max? " Riccardo asks, looking weird again.

"I'm doing great, how are you? " His PR trainer said asking back these questions were endearing, cute. Max's father had mocked him for that act, his trainer had been fired after that.

"How about I bring you to your room? Would you like that?" Riccardo asks, Max smiles again, nodding.

"Sure." Norris waves enthusiastically as Riccardo leads him out of the common room and into his private room.

"Are you alright? Max?"

"Call me Verstappen."

"Verstappen. Are you alright?"

"You can go, Riccardo. "

"... Call if you need anything."

When the prefect leaves, Max wants nothing but to burst into tears. He flops onto the bed.

The next day he drags himself out of bed. Even if classes don't start till 9 and the sun hasn't risen yet.

Jos expected him to continue his strict training regime. He was almost tempted to skip it and lie to his father but he thought he better not after his humiliating sorting from yesterday.

Now, alone, Max can see the Hufflepuff room properly. It's... It's all gentle lighting, none of the bright fluorescent lights his room had. The chairs looked comfy and the many plants lazing around the common room tempts him to join them.

Perhaps that would be a better fate, turning into a plant to live the rest of his life in the common room. His hand lingers on his wand, mind on a spell his professor taught him when he was just 9. He didn't.

When he had crawled out of the Hufflepuff room, fully dressed, broom in hand, the sun was just peaking from the horizon.

The halls are empty, some portraits mutter as he walks by. His father's portraits never moved, other than those instructed to. For example, a painter that never stopped moving his brush or a surfer never to take a break from the sea.

Making his way to the Hogwarts field, he stretched, slow and patient. His bones crack from the exhausting day he had before.

The field is decent sized, not as big as the one he played in during national championships, bigger than the one his father made him run laps around till he fainted.

He glides through the air easily, flying comes easily to him. If he were to be given his own time and freedom he thinks he would likely still be a top player in the school leagues.

It's better that he was hurled up though. Better to have reached the top by sheer force of his father's training.

He thinks about his national team, he's a reserve, too young to play officially but the team has him in some practices and he attends smaller competitions for them. Max suspects it's more about having a claim on Max when he comes of age.

He's 15, he still has 3 years to choose which team he wants to go to. By then, he will make his own choice. He will not do whatever pleases his father anymore.

The golden snitch twinkles near the end of the field. Max pretends not to see it.

It is fun, sometimes, tricking the golden snitch, allowing it a false sense of security. Like a tiger cub playing with a cricket.

His father would get mad at him if he did it for too long, he was upset his son couldn't catch it at once. Which Max could, he just didn't see the fun of it.

The fluttering golden ball is in his hands before it can even think of escaping.

Max briefly wonders if the snitch can possibly think, he lets it flutter away, repeating his game once again.

In the golden light of the sun and shaded path of the clouds, the wind whizzes past his ears, he falls into the familiar rhythm of flying, sometimes he makes his own obstacle courses, weaving through imaginary hoops.

By the time the sun reveals itself fully to watch Max fly, he realizes that a crowd has gathered around under him, star-struck Hogwarts students watching, mouths open and everything.

He flushes slightly, he may have had many adoring fans due to his membership in the national team and young age but come on! These were his peers.

Max lowers down, checking his watch to see that it is indeed 8.30am and he has to run if he wants to get to class not drenched in sweat.

He waves slightly to the crowd, zipping to the house dorm even though he's probably breaking several school rules.

He knocks the tune and enters quickly, still high from the adrenaline of flying.

He climbs out of the tunnel only to come face to face with Daniel Riccardo, his face stern and stony.

"Verstappen! You can't just sneak out like that!" Daniel's expression softens when he sees Max.

Max knows he feels pity even if Riccardo knows nothing about his life.

"I of course did not sneak out, I left my room and went to the field." Max doesn't think early hour training counts as sneaking out, going to parties in the dead of the night is sneaking out.

"Max, we were worried. I went into your room and you weren't there. Thought you'd been kidnapped by the other houses to play quidditch for them or something... "

Max considers this briefly, Riccardo knocking on his door gleefully, freezing when he doesn't get an answer. Did his blood pressure spike? Did he throw Max's door open in desperation only to find the room empty?

Max grimaces.

"I went to go training... Sorry..." Max stands awkwardly, hands by his side like a child being punished by a parent.

Riccardo sighs. Max wants to cry.

"Please forgive me, I'm of course sorry, I will do anything!" Max cringes inside, begging with someone other than his father is a foreign concept.

Riccardo has a cheeky smile on his face, Max is almost scared.

"I'll forgive you... Only if you call me Daniel!"

Max groans inwardly, well he's also partly relieved but Daniel doesn't need to know that.

"What will it be Max? Will you call me the d word? Or will you suffer in my never ending spite! "Daniel's grin grows.

" Fine. "

" Fine, who? "

"Fine. Daniel."

Max flushes, weird.

Daniel looks elated.