#my shift is over and that is the most important part

[tarotlexa]

PICK A PILE READING- (EXPERIMENTAL) what does your body need?

welcome back my luvs, this is the last part of my experimental saga (for rn at the very least, if anybody wants to offer me some ideas feel free to inbox me or dm me!), i already made a hair and skin version, if you're interested.

of course this is not medical advice but a collective reading made for entertainment purposes, so take what resonates and leave what does not as usual. love u, thank you for being here <3

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pile 1: the cards i got for this pile simply scream OVERSTIMULATION. some of you might be neurodivergent, some of you are looking into getting a diagnosis, probably. you might be disassociating a lot lately from your body's needs in favor of mental control or productivity. you’ve projected your energy far into the future but haven’t checked in with the vessel that��s carrying you there. your body feels betrayed or neglected, like you’ve been pushing past limits, avoiding rest, or ignoring signs (like skipping meals, overriding exhaustion, overconsuming caffeine or stimulants, masking pain). there is also a possibility that you’re ignoring or hiding symptoms, anything from chronic tension, hormonal imbalances, to sleep issues or stomach disruptions. it is very important to look more into what's been afflicting you lately because as invincible as we all seem, we are still human and our bodies are still fragile little machines who need to get checked from time to time. you might be also recovering from an injury or past illness atm.

definitely check in with your nervous system (signs of disregulation, insomnia, jaw clenching, digestion sensitivity...remember that chronic stress can also lead to hormonal shifts (ask me how i know), water retention, fatigue). consider taking magnesium and going on slow walks before the evening.

what your body needs rn: i feel like you are aware of the cognitive dissonance you and your body have been experiencing lately and you might have been trying to "over" fix it, as in, trying too many routines at once, trends, diets or stuff from tiktok that you thought was cool or attainable. it's sensory hell. the seven of wands being here could indicate your immune system flaring up, like it's fighting to keep up with your bullshit (sorry), it needs less chaos. you could be dealing with skin flare ups, pms, cycle irregularity or even autoimmune warning signs. investigate those triggers, protect your sleep, make sure to stick to ONE routine (like meals at a set time, sleeping at a set time), slow and repetitive movement for the win. your body is desperately trying to get you to collaborate with it, rebuild trust with it and create something SUSTAINABLE. spiritually, your body is telling you that you’re not meant to be a solo soldier, you’re here to build something with your physical self, not at its expense. most importantly: stop focusing on your brain alone, your body knows more than you think.

pile 2: see, while pile 1 is struggling to put their body first, you might be having the opposite issue here. the king of cups indicates that you're silently suffering, holding everything in and appearing composed but there's something brewing under the surface. like your body might be looking fine but internally there's a flood of stress hormones, mental tension and some somaticized emotions (as in your feelings are turning into physical symptoms). you might be currently struggling with anxiety a LOT and it reflects on your body, like you might be prone to insomnia, muscle tension, chest tightness or digestive issues tied to this emotional overload. you might be also feeling in a constant hypervigilant state all the time or being stuck in survival mode, operating on fear and anxiety. your body is asking you to show it kindness, compassion and to fix the balance between mind and heart. also pay close attention to muscle injuries rn or your knees or thyroid issues, i feel like that's relevant for this pile.

what your body needs rn: your body is showing signs of burnout, post illness fatigue or a nervous system collapse that's been building for a while now. your body wants emotional release and retreat, it needs softness, water, rest, nourishment and silence, even some isolation. deep rest, lots of water, warm salt baths, cry it all out, yoga, WATER!!, soothing and hydrating foods (bone broth, herbal teas, oats, fruits, veggies...), less caffeine, meditation.

pile 3: oh you're in grind mode but there are conflicting energies here. the knight of pentacles is slow, methodical and grounded, he loves habits, discipline and routines but then there's also the knight of wands who is impulsive, fast and who craves excitement and quick results. it's like part of you wants to stick to consistency but another part of you wants adrenaline and chaos. your body is rebuilding something right now, it could be recovering from past stress or making physical upgrades or even stamina building. you are creating a new body as we currently speak. you have energy, but it’s scattered between hustle and healing. your body can go far if you align your pace but right now it’s like pressing gas and brake at the same time. it's unrealistic yk?

what your body needs rn: you need to commit to one thing instead of burning out in too many directions. your body wants you to feel sensual, alive and in movement, you might feel the need to dance more and that's great, you should definitely try that or even doing creative workouts. you have endured a lot physically, there might be some long term tension that hasn't fully healed yet, consider taking things slow. your body needs steadiness and grounded care, think nourishing meals (do not restrict), restful sleep, regularity in movement and nutrition. your bones, muscle, digestion and endocrine system really crave earth energy (solid routines, strength, warmth, safety, think warming foods like cinnamon, ginger, soup, dark greens). i feel like pilates could be a great workout for you if you're interested in that.

thank you so much for reading, have a great day/night <3

png creds @pnglove

[manmuncher777]

CARDIO

The cardio machine at the gym weren’t working for Toji today, how else will he burn some calories…..

The sound of your kettle boiling echoed in the back group of your apartment as you sat watching TV. It was 9pm and Toji was due home soon. You poured yourself a green tea, sitting yourself back on the couch that felt a lot more lonely this evening. You didn’t really know why, after all Toji was gone to the gym most nights of the week for a few hours, it was nothing different, but you couldn’t help but miss him. And you were certainly missing him more than usual tonight. Maybe it was because you didnt really get to see him today, you got back from work just as he was leaving, sharing a few minutes with each other before you watched him leave. When he got back, you were out to lunch with friends. You wanted nothing more but to screw the plans and stay with him, especially with how he was looking at you in that moment. But you couldn’t bail on your friends.

And when you got back, he was getting ready to head out to the gym. Not that you didnt understand, of our se you did. You both has busy schedules and his gym was very important to him. He got moody when he would miss a day - which was very rarely. But the room felt a little bit chillier without his presence. You were doing your best to concentrate on the tv, or even the cup of tea that warmed your hands. But nothing

You were preoccupied on focusing on trying to hear when his car pulls up. You had lived together long enough for you to be able to memorise the sound. You paused your breathing as you heard the familiar motor pull in, shut off and the door shut.

It was like you were first dating him again, you heart suddenly picking up at the thought of him seeing you. You fussed with your hair quickly, you knew you had a few minutes before he got there and you didnt want it to look silly after lying on the couch.

Quickly shifting yourself, pretending to focus on whatever was on the tv when you heard his keys in the door. Part of you wanted to run there like an eager puppy who hadn’t seen their owner all day, but you had some self restraint - some.

The key turning in the door was all it took for your ears to perk up, body instinctively rising from the couch as heavy footsteps filled the entranceway. Toji was back.

You practically bounced toward him, excitement bubbling over as you caught sight of his familiar frame stepping inside. He looked… well, like he always did—too damn good. His black compression shirt clung to his broad chest, highlighting every ridge of muscle beneath, and the lazy way he slung his gym bag over his shoulder sent something warm curling in your stomach. A few damp strands of his dark hair clung to his forehead, evidence of a workout that, knowing him, had been brutal.

His sharp green eyes lifted at the sight of you, and the smirk that tugged at his lips was immediate. “Someone’s happy to see me.”

“I haven’t seen you all day,” you huffed, ignoring the teasing lilt in his voice as you stepped closer. You didn’t hesitate to slide your arms around his waist, pressing into the heat of his body. He smelled like sweat and the faint remnants of his cologne, an intoxicating mix that made your fingers twitch against his back.

Toji chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest as he dropped his bag and let his arms wrap around you in return, pressing you in close. “Yeah? Missed me that bad, huh?”

You tilted your chin up to meet his gaze, rolling your eyes at the cocky grin stretched across his face. “Obviously.”

His thumb traced absent circles against your spine, the other hand sliding down, sneaking just beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers pressing into the warm skin at your lower back. “You’re cute.” His voice dipped lower, rougher. “Wish I could’ve come home earlier, but the damn gym was slacking today. Cardio machines were down.”

You blinked, catching the way his smirk deepened, the glint in his eyes nothing short of trouble.

“So I didn’t get my usual workout in,” he continued, fingers pressing just a bit firmer against your skin, keeping you locked against him. “Still need to get some form of cardio in, though.”

Heat licked up your spine, heart hammering against your ribs as his meaning settled between you.

“…Toji.”

“What?” His grin was downright sinful now, his hands roaming as he leaned in close, breath warm against your ear. “You got a better suggestion?”

You scoff, shaking your head at him. “That’s tragic. Really, my heart aches for you.” Trying your best to resist his charm

Toji hums, stepping further into the apartment, and it’s only then that you realize how imposing he is, how much space he takes up. Broad shoulders, sculpted arms, those hands—God, those hands. He drops his gym bag onto the floor with a dull thud, stretching his neck from side to side like he’s shaking off the last remnants of his workout.

“Tch. Guess I’ll have to find another way to get my heart rate up,” he muses, slow and deliberate, his eyes dragging over you.

The look sends a shiver down your spine. It’s lazy, assessing, like he’s already decided how the next few minutes will go.

You don’t move when he steps closer, nor when he lifts a hand to your jaw, tilting your face up toward him. His palm is warm, calloused from years of combat and training, but he’s gentle when he strokes his thumb along the curve of your cheek.

“Missed you today,” you admit, voice quieter now, betraying just how much you mean it.

A small smirk tugs at his lips, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “Yeah?”

You nod, feeling your breath catch as he dips his head, nose brushing yours, lips just barely grazing—teasing, testing, waiting.

“Show me, then,” he murmurs.

It’s all the permission you need.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his tank top, and you pull him in, pressing your lips to his like you’ve been craving it all day—because you have. Toji meets you with just as much want, his grip tightening at your jaw, the other hand sliding down to your waist, anchoring you against him.

He kisses you slow at first, savoring it, drawing out each movement like he has all the time in the world. But it doesn’t stay slow for long. His teeth graze your bottom lip, a groan rumbling from his chest as he deepens the kiss, taking and taking until you’re breathless. Until all you can do is melt into him.

And just like that, the tension from before shifts into something else entirely.

Something dangerous.

Something intoxicating.

And you don’t think you’d stop him even if you could.

He has hardly even gotten in the door, discarding his gym bag and keys somewhere on the floor, backing you up until you’re pressed tightly between the cool of the wall and his rock hard chest.

His familiar musk filled your nose as you kissed him, amplified by the effects of his workout. You were addicted.

His hands trailed all over your body, haphazardly grabbing at any skin he could, squeezing and gripping as your lips clashed with his. Soon those travelling hands finding them hem of your shirt, ripping it off you in seconds. He’s breaking away from the kiss, only to strip you down before him. Eyes sleazily tracing over your figure as he’s pulling your shorts down too,. His eyes widening at the sight before him.

“No panties sweetheart?” He asked, licking his scarred lips as the sight of your bare cunt, just begging for his attention, begging for his touch.

“Really missed you…” Was the only explanation you could offer him. You waste no time. Not taking a moment to be conscious as you slip your bra off as well. Standing naked in front of the burly man, allowing him to take you in. His form towered over you, and with the look in those eyes you were certain he was sizing you up, like a lion with its prey.

That look in his eyes, his iris’ darkened with lust. His hands resting on your hips, gripping tightly. Shit, he really missed you too.

Your pretty little eyes were starting to get to him, every bat of your lashes like you werent just sat here with no panties waiting for him to come home and fuck you. This perfectly manicured nails of your tracing over his abs, trying to find the hem of his compression shirt. Eyebrows furrowing cutely as you tried to find the edge of the tight material.

“Tojiii~” You whined, starting to get frustrated with your inability to strip the hunk in front of you.

He knew how worked up you got after he had done a work out. You were fully aware he was huge before a workout, but that after workout pump he got was fucking delicious to look at. Hi biceps prominent and threatening to tear his sleeves, his chest - puffed out so pretty. Fuck his tits looked amazing in that black shirt. Veins still building down his forearms and hands in jagged lines. And His back, I mean you know what they say. Hate to see him evade but looovvveee to watch him go. You could spend hours looking at the defines muscle flexing in the light with every move he made. If you were lucky he would send you a gym pic after an escape I ally hard night. They went into a special folder on your phone… for no paticular reason

He understood what you were trying so desperately to beg him for. A light chuckle leaving his lips, without taking his eyes off of you, he peeled the tight material from his sculpted skin.

You eyes going as wide as sauce pans as you shamelessly started at his body, a sight you could never get tired of. You wanted to gnaw on his bicep.

“You’re drooling there princess.” He teases, mock wiping the corner of your lips with his thumb. You scowl at him, stopping his hand before it can pull away and taking his thumb into your mouth, wrapping your lips tightly around the digit, swirling your tongue around it while giving him the most innocent look you could muster. His mouth gapes in awe for a second, a quiet ‘oh’ leaving his lips.

He doesn’t allow himself to be distracted for long, he already knows your slutty little trick. He pulls his thumb from between your lips with a wet ‘pop’. Taking the hand and wrapping it around your throat. A pathetic whimper leaves your lips, and out the corner of his eye he can notice you rubbing your thighs together, trying to release some of the pressure there.

“So needy sweetheart, haven’t even touched you yet.” He whispers close to you ear, lips brushing against the skin. That contact was enough to have you shivering. You felt like a virgin being touched for the first time, thats how badly you needed him. Everything he did had you squirming and moaning for him.

You couldn’t care, you needed him right now. You didnt even want to waste time on foreplay at this point - lord knows you were already soaked enough for him to slip right in. All you could think about was his bulging cock that was standing prominently in his grey jogger. Just begging for you to release it.

Your hands flying down to the waistband of his joggers, not deterred even when his grip on your throat tightens, you can feel that delicious wooziness right as he releases.

“Fucking hell baby, acting like you haven��t got dick for years. Such a slut.” He rasps at you, while it could sound like it, he certainly wasnt complaining. He loved when he had you all needy like this, begging for him in every way.

A deep groan leaving his chest as you palm him through his boxer, soon dragging them down his legs also, throwing them away in a similar direction that you did his joggers. Your eyes never leaving his as you spat in your palm, wasting no time as you wrapped your hand around his thick cock. The tip so pretty and pink, slowly leaking white pearls of pre with each stroke you eagerly gave him.

He choked out a moan, not expecting you to be so very eager “shit- slow down baby”

“I need you Toji. Now.” That look in your eyes, so demanding and needy.

With that sentence you definitely didn’t have to ask the man twice

Showing off his strength for you was something he was used to. He fucking loved watching you drool over him when he was f;Lexington or doing some kind of heavy lifting. So why not show off for his girl a bit?

Not wasting a second before hes sweeping you up in his arms, draping each leg over each of his forearms as he presses you tightly against the wall, hoisting you up as if you weighed nothing to him.

You were folded so perfectly for him, with no room in your mind to be conscious about how vulnerable you were right now, you didnt care. You wanted him to destroy you. Having him pick you up so easily made your head spin.

“This what you wanted doll? Hmmm?” he smirks at you, eyes glancing down to where he was lining his throbbing tip up with your entrance. His perfect cock leaking so prettily. Teasing you as it poked right at your needy hole, gathering your wetness. Small pearls of precum leaking out so beautifully.

“Wanted me to fuck you like this? Like how strong I am for you?”

His eyes flickering up now, not wanting to miss the already fucked out look on your face before he had hardly got his hands on you. Chuckling to himself as all you could manage was a nod. Glossy eyes begging him to make a move, but he wasn’t going to be that kind yet.

“Poor baby, so needy. All cock drunk and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Dark tufts of hair drooping into his face, his smug, cocky face.. You knew your neediness was a boost to his ego, but you also got off on how cocky he could be sometimes. How he could render you speechless with that fucking smirk of his and a little bit of sweet talking.

Not trusting your voice anymore, a small whine was the only sound that left your throat.

“Oh? Where’s the big girl from earlier that was demanding I fuck her?” He certainly wasnt making it easy for you, and you were trying so hard to concentrate on what he was saying, to keep your eyes locked on his. But you couldn’t help trickling down to where his thick cock sat at your entrance. Doing your best to shift your hips forwards slightly. Your movement limited due to the position he had you in, but anything was better than nothing, you were getting desperate now. Being so close to that sweet stretch.

He knew what he was doing to you, he knew he was pushing you to your limits, but he wanted to see you break for him. Leaning in even closer to you, lips tracing the shell of your ear as he spoke to you so sweetly “use your words for me, like a big girl”

He could be so cruel to you, but that was exactly why you loved him.

“P-please Toji~”

Fuck

Fuck you

He could never deny that voice, that beautiful begging with a tinge of sadness. That desperation that always guilted him into giving you whatever you wanted. God he wanted that pretty voice to ring in his mind for eternity.

Not having the will to deny you any longer, his hips shifted forwards.

Shit

It really hadn’t been that long, but either way how tight you were squeezing him you could think it had been years.

Light moans left you with every second that passed. Relishing in the feeling of being so perfectly full again, like your walls were modded to his cock. Only fulfilled when he was the one filling you.

Soon his hips began to rock, oh so slowly. Back and forth, each drag of his cock against your velvety walls pulling moans that got louder and louder as his movement picked up pace.

The cool of the wall now contrasted by the heat radiating off of your now sweat sheened skin. Your body shifting up the wall slightly with each thrust you received.

Unable to do anything but just take what he was giving to you, completely at he mercy as he propped you up. Fucking you so deep.

He was ruining you now, hips picking up to a brutal place as he slammed into you. Listening to the sound of your pitchy moans. Light huffs leaving him with each movement.

Your eyes lolling open only to be met with a heavenly sight, your buff boyfriend.

Biceps rippling with the task of holding you up, veins popping through the skin in jagged lines. A light gloss of sweat reflecting off the muscles that made them look practically edible. You were amazed he was still able to keep you up with such ease, even as he fucked you.

“T-T-Toji” your voice came out as a wobble, his name broken up with each thrust of his hips.

His swollen tip hitting deep inside of you. This position giving him to angle his hips so cruelly. Where he knew you needed it. That spongy spot inside of you. Cock pushing deeper and deeper into your gummy walls.

“What’s wrong? Feeling good ma?” He grunts out

A pathetic nod is all you can manage in that moment, your mind turned to jelly. Taking everything that he was giving you.

A dry laugh left toji as he continued his thrusts, jackhammering into your needy pussy. Your hands desperately grabbing at his biceps, nails clawing at the skin. That sharp sensation only spurring toji on.

This was his favourite way to fuck you, all needy and rushed. Toji loved being able to take his time with you. This evening where he would tease you for hours before giving you what you both wanted. But there was something more sensual about your sessions like this. They were ruled by need and want with little regard for anything else. The rushed movements, the needy kisses that left him gasping for air. The little whine in your voice that you knew would get him to give you anything you wanted. It had him feral. He can take him time with you later, but in moments like this all he wants is to give you what you both need.

When you go all sparkly eyed and cock drunk for him, he can hardly hold back. He loves seeing his girl all broken for him.

Toji could already feel his high nearing, but was doing his best to hold it off, to resist from cumming early, shooting deep inside your inviting pussy.

His cocky demeanour fading now, dripping away slowly and fading into something a little bit more raw now. Depraved and needy. his head dropping onto your shoulder again, heavy breathing into the supple skin, breathing in your scent.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he growled against your throat, his lips dragging over the sensitive skin there, nipping at your pulse. His voice was shredded, low and needy, vibrating straight through your chest. “Look at you, baby. Fuckin’ need me that bad, huh?”

You could barely answer, could barely think — the only thing you knew was the crushing strength of his body against yours, the hard, heavy feel of him grinding his tip in the deepest parts of you

Your fingers tangled in his sweaty hair, tugging, desperate. “Toji,” you whined, squirming in his hold, your whole body burning for him. “Please. I need you so bad—”

He chuckled — dark and deep and wicked — and pulled back just enough to look at you, green eyes flashing with something hungry.

“You’re fuckin’ drippin’ for me,” he muttered,. “Bet you’d let me do anything to you right now, huh?”

You nodded frantically, shame completely forgotten, hips chasing his touch

And Toji… oh, Toji lived for it.

He smirked, cocky and lazy, like he had all the time in the world to ruin you.

“You sure you can take it, baby?” he rasped, rolling his hips against you in shallow, teasing thrusts. “Might be too big for you like this.”

You sobbed his name, desperate, rutting against him. You would take him, you would beg for it — anything, just to be full of him.

Your back arched off the wall, a wrecked, broken sound ripping from your throat — the stretch of him so overwhelming, so perfect, you could barely breathe.

Toji swore under his breath, hands tightening on your thighs like a vice. “Fuck — that’s it, baby. That’s my girl. Taking it so good.”

His strength had you completely at his mercy, legs trembling, hands scrabbling at his slick shoulders as he fucked you into the wall like he couldn’t get close enough.

“Mine,” he growled into your ear, rutting into you harder. “Mine, you fuckin’ hear me?”

You nodded frantically, sobbing out his name, every nerve ending in your body sparking white-hot with pleasure.

“Say it,” he snarled, cock filling you so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach. “Say you’re fuckin’ mine, baby.”

“Yours—!” you cried, clenching around him, falling apart in his arms. “Yours, Toji, all yours—!”

And he rewarded you — oh, he rewarded you — with even rougher thrusts, chasing both of your highs like a man starved.

You came first, shattering with a scream against his shoulder, and Toji followed right after, groaning low in your ear as he pumped you full of him, thick and heavy and endless.

Neither of you moved for a long moment — just panting against each other, sweaty and shaking and absolutely wrecked

His forehead pressed against yours, and you swore you heard a chuckle — low and satisfied — as he shifted you in his arms.

“Fucking insatiable,” he muttered. “Might not even let you walk after that, baby.”

Neither of you moved at first — panting, bodies trembling, clinging to each other like you might drown if you let go.

But Toji… Toji wasn’t satisfied.

Not even close.

He kept you pinned against the wall with one arm, shifting his grip just enough to thrust into you again — slow and deep, the obscene wet sound of it filling the air.

You whined weakly, too sensitive, too wrecked — but it didn’t matter. Toji wasn’t letting you go.

“Still so fuckin’ tight,” he rasped against your throat, dragging his teeth over your skin. “Still need it, don’t you, baby? Still clenching like you’re beggin’ for more.”

Your only answer was a broken sob, your legs trembling around his arms, toes curling helplessly.

You were done for. Your mind was nothing but static, every nerve in your body frayed and buzzing, but Toji just kept going — shallow, grinding thrusts that kept you right on the precipice of falling apart again.

“Fuck,” he groaned, dragging his cock almost all the way out before slamming back in, deep and heavy. “Listen to how fuckin’ messy you are for me, baby. You hear that? That’s all you.”

You couldn’t even be embarrassed — not with the filthy, wet sounds of your body taking him so eagerly, not with the way your cunt was fluttering around him, so desperate for more.

His strength was unreal — holding you up like you weighed nothing, fucking up into you like he was starving, like you were the only thing that could satisfy the ache burning through his veins.

You babbled his name, mindless, clinging to his shoulders, feeling another orgasm building so fast it was making you dizzy.

Toji smirked when he felt you tighten around him.

“You gonna cum for me again, pretty girl?” he panted, voice almost smug, almost sweet. “Gonna cream all over my cock like a good little slut?”

You sobbed his name, nodding frantically, desperate, delirious.

“Please, Toji, please—”

“Yeah?” he muttered, his voice filthy, a little slurred with pleasure. “Go on, baby. Fuckin’ make a mess. Wanna feel you lose it on me.”

And with one more brutal, grinding thrust, he had you unraveling — cumming so hard you swore you blacked out for a second, your whole body convulsing in his arms.

You screamed his name, the sound muffled against his shoulder, clinging to him like he was the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

Toji swore viciously under his breath, feeling the way you pulsed and milked him.

“Fuck — fuck, baby, you’re squeezin’ the life outta me—”

He thrust up into you one last time, hard and deep, hips jerking as he came — hot and thick, painting your walls with a broken groan, his whole body tensing as he buried himself to the hilt.

Neither of you moved, both of you shaking, slick and sweaty and ruined, clinging to each other like you might die if you let go.

Toji pressed his forehead against yours, breathing you in, his voice a low, guttural growl.

“Still not fuckin’ done with you,” he muttered, kissing you messy and desperate, grinding against you again like he could already get hard just from the way you whimpered.

“Gonna fuckin’ ruin you tonight, pretty girl.”

[abyssyby]

maybe a dragon

— Lucian wants to be like his papa, which strikes fear into Sylus's heart like no other.

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: lucian & sylus spotlight!!! did i cry when i wrote this? yes, i did. it was just supposed to be a soft banter thing exploring their dynamic but it kinda snowballed into this... now both lucian and kyros (coming up next!) have angsty drabbles. i hope you enjoy this one! ❀-urs

important heads up for context of this story: lucian is (my headcanon) 1/2 of sylus's twin boys. around 4 years in this one! ᡣ𐭩

sylus & lucian | sylus x reader | angst, fluff, comfort, sylus's son showing him that every part of him is lovable, dad!sylus, mom!reader tw: mentions of past violence/self-harm

Lucian likes it when papa is startled. It’s an emotion he’s extremely gifted in bringing out of him. Not by hiding around corners and going ‘boo!’. No, papa just smirks at that and shakes his head, tells him to try again. 

Lucian is especially talented in being in places papa never expects (or never wants) him to be in.

“Lucian!” Sylus barks, rushing over to him who balances himself on the window sill. Peeling fat little cheeks off of the glass and cradling him to safety. 

“Lucian.” Sylus warns when Lucian is halfway up the bookshelf. He supervises, but when Lucian loses footing, Sylus is quick to scoop him up and out of the study, drawing him close to his heart and calming his own erratic breathing. 

“Lucian?!” Sylus exclaims, rushing down the stairs after his son who passes him, sliding down the banister. 

Statues, trees, shelves, counters, tables and chairs— Lucian craves height. A bird’s eye view. Everything would be so much easier for him if tiny dragon wings popped out of his back. Although, that would be another headache for Sylus altogether.  

“Papa?” he asks one morning, already hauling himself up his father’s legs. Hair messy from sleep, having followed Sylus out to the balcony. His bare feet had pitter-pattered on the cold tile, and now he longs to be lifted.

Sylus has since shifted his routine to keep up with his family. He doesn’t mind it, not when he spends most of his waking hours being cuddled by his two boys, and his evenings snuggled up against you. 

“Yes, angel?” Sylus quirks his elbow out, just enough for the boy to use it as leverage. 

“D’you—do you likes going up?” 

“Upstairs?” Sylus asks, slightly teasing. He tilts his head to the side to give Lucian his shoulder to grip.

“No, no,” Lucian says. Shifting comfortably, completing his climb now with both legs dangling off of Sylus’s shoulders. He is pointing to the slowly coloring sky, tilting his head down just enough that Sylus can see his eyes. “Up, up-high, papa?”

“Oh,” Sylus nods. He thinks, he does appreciate being out on the balcony, checking in hotel rooms on the top floor, plane rides, looking at the scenery from atop a mountain after hiking it with you. Perhaps he does, although he doesn’t outwardly seek the thrill of it. “I do. But I don’t… look for it. I’m tall.” 

Hopeful eyes shine with enthusiasm only children can exude. “Will I be tall?” 

Sylus revels at this, singing, “Maybe.” 

“Why maybe?” 

“Because mama’s small.” 

“Mama not small.” Lucian giggles.

“Mama’s a kitty cat. Very tiny.” 

“No, mama not!” he giggles again, little bubbles of joy bursting from his chest. Stomach trembling against the back of Sylus’s head, ruffling his father’s hair. Contagious, Sylus grins too, straining to get a glimpse of Lucian’s laughing. 

Tiny means Mephisto— and Lucian distinctly recalls looking upwards when asking mama for sweeties.

Sylus reaches up and pinches his cheek. “Who knows? Maybe your whiskers will come in before your wings.” 

Lucian flinches, gasping like he’d just been startled by thunder. An excitement rushes through him, and his little fists tug at two spots on Sylus’s head that would’ve been too sharp for such soft hands a lifetime ago. “I’ll get wings?” 

It feels like an attack, when it flashes in Sylus’s mind like lighting— the image of his son with wings and scales and the tiniest of horns. Sylus has to take a grounding breath, distress reflecting in how his voice drops into a somber tone. 

“Or whiskers.” he tries to play along, to steer him ever so gently elsewhere. To you, back to you. His son will have his face, but he prays for him to have your heart, your soul. 

But Lucian has already invaded his vision— bright amber eyes and a happy smile. One Sylus has never seen on a face like his regarding turning into a monster.  It makes his stomach churn, his throat tighten, his muscles into stone. Like when he once lived in that cave, unmoving and undisturbed. Like when he was slain for being that very thing Lucian’s eyes shine for now. 

What once was something cursed unto his body, bloody and battered by his own hands— his son now craves. His son now wants with unabashed wonder. A gripping, heart-leaping prospect rather than the most horrific of fates. 

Sylus takes a deep breath through his nose, reeling it in. He feels his jaw tremble at the exhale, refusing to be dragged into the riptide of his anguish. Not now, he wills himself, not in front of Lucian. 

But his child’s desire knows no fences or stone walls, especially when he feels it draws him closer to his father.

“Papa, I want wings.” he says simply. Upside down, kissing his forehead, because mama does it when she’s near papa’s face too. 

Sylus flinches slightly at the all-too familiar action, not enough to jostle Lucian, but just so for the boy's voice to lower just that little bit. As if he thought he’d startled a poor deer. Lucian whispers, “Two please?” 

Sylus can feel the phantom crystal heart in his chest crack. And he knows for sure that one day, his love for his children will be the cause of its inevitable shatter.  

And he thinks this is his punishment for all the grief he’d caused you when you found him that day tending to his crumpled wings and bloodied horns. These things he’d purposefully hidden and tucked away to not horrify you now like he did back in that life, in that cave. 

To be faced with a soul that is both yours and his— with his face and your smile— telling him he wants to be just like him. Just like Sylus. And every inch of hate and dread for who he was is sickeningly turned on its head, slapped across his face in the image of his boy. Because how could he hate that of what he loves so dearly? 

And yet, maybe this is what you see when you look at him. This is what you marvel at with galaxies in your eyes and tenderness in your touch— his face, with the heart of a dragon. This— in the shape of a little boy— is who he is. One who cares, not abandons. Who feels, not hurts. Who loves, not leaves. 

Just like you did, your son cradles his being in tiny hands. Just like you did, his son looks at him with boundless affection. Just like you did, his son caresses his horns, embraces his wings. Just like you do, his son is cleaning his bloodied wounds, whispering words of comfort and telling him— “It’s okay. You’re beautiful, and I love who you are.” 

And somehow, that makes the pain bearable. Maybe now, he believes it too.

“Okay.” Sylus says through the lump in his throat. Swallowing thickly sticky sentimental pain to replace with something else. Something better. Something good. 

He gently maneuvers his beautiful beastly boy down into his arms into an embrace, burying his nose in his starlight hair and pressing his lips to the space between his brows. “Two then, for my Lucian.” 

His Lucian, whose talent lies in startling his papa with how little of him it takes to heal the wounds he’d thought were too deep to reach. Though, he supposes little hands can squeeze through the crevices of his heart just fine. 

His Lucian, whose talent also lies in making his papa cry. 

In silence, you catch them staring at the dawning of a new day. Two silhouettes of the same shape, talking fondly to one another, against the rising orange hues of the endless sky.

“Will I get big wings?” Asks the little one.

“Maybe.” Says the big one. “Mephisto’s wings are small.”

“Papaa!” Lucian whines and hopelessly buries his face in Sylus’s hair. Just like you do. And, for Sylus, what a delightful thing it is.

✧˚ ⋆｡ next: maybe a turtle (kyros, coming soon!) || read more with the little twins here || more sylus thoughts ✧˚ ⋆｡

thank you for reading!

[agendratum]

love horror games about being a security guard working a night shift in the facility tm, love it as much as the next guy, but what about horror games about working a night shift in the facility tm, and there being a security guard, and the security guard being the reason you feel unsafe?

and yet you have to continue doing your job

[coyoxxtl]

we got a new coworker who is cool and i really like but my managers are giving him a little more heat for mistakes than i usually see from them and considering he’s a black man it does Not look good

[lesbian-not-american27]

Ok but you have to include the full clip though

The guys name is Paul Parker and he’s literally my hero

The clip is funny ofc, he literally tells sco mo to square up, but it’s also heartbreaking to see how run down and exhausted he is- how all our volunteers were- during black summer. My parents are both full time rfs members and I’m nearly of age to become an offical member myself, and I can’t begin to describe how run ragged they are every bush fire season, let alone 2019-20. My dad’s birthday was just a few days ago and while we were sitting in our living room cutting the pavlova he was still on call with the radios by his side. Our emergency service workers- the rfs, the ses, paramedics and support services and so many more- are overworked and underpaid and constantly let down by our government, and good old Scotty from marketing is a prime fucking example.

Fuck Scott Morrison, support your local brigades.

I just spent some time scrolling through this blog and am suffering from sever laughter. Thanks so much for collating the countries craziest moments. One of my favourites is when Scott Morrison was in Hawaii while the bushfires where burning.

December 2019: As Australia's east coast is engulfed in the worst bushfires in living memory, rumours begin to circulate that Australia's Prime Minister Scott Morrison may have secretly fucked off for a holiday in Hawaii.

Keep in mind, this is what is going down in Australia at the time:

The Hawaii rumour is initially written off as a fringe conspiracy, because surely nobody could be that fuckin tonedeaf, and it was quickly forgotten about... until an Australian man visiting Hawaii UPLOADED A SELFIE ON THE BEACH WITH THE PM THROWING A SHAKA.

At which point all hell broke loose.

Overnight the formerly popular "Scomo" became the most despised man in all of Australia. Think "firefighters shouting out of their windows to news cameras" level of despised.

After about two days of radio silence and pretending like he was still at home running the country, the Prime Minister's handlers finally dragged him onto call with an Australian radio station, where he pinky promised to return to Australia as fast as he could in an attempt to calm things down.

Unfortunately Scott's empathy consultant (a real job) then had to watch Scott pour more gasoline on the dumpster fire by uttering the now famous phrase "Look I don't hold a hose mate" when asked by the radio interviewer why the fucking fuck the fuckhead wasn't fucking in Australia doing his fucking job during a massive fucking crisis.

Testing just how much worse things could get, Scomo then proceeded to NOT rush back to Australia as promised, instead attempting to complete the rest of his holiday, a fact that was exposed when a passerby snapped a picture of him still lounging on the beach two days later.

Eventually, holiday complete, Morrison did reluctantly slink back to Australia, and in an attempt to calm things down, he decided to pay a visit to a small town that had been destroyed by the fires.

Which was a big mistake.

Scomo still had not registered how absolutely and totally he had screwed the poodle with his Hawaiian beach vacation, and he walks into what is now taught in PR classes as one of the greatest examples of "what not do do in a crisis" in all of history.

Scotty from Marketing, as he is now dubbed by the nation, spends a painfully cringe-inducing hour wandering around a burned down town with TV news cameras in tow, having to FORCE PEOPLE TO SHAKE HIS HAND in what is some of the most awkward footage you will ever see.

At this point it's probably also worth mentioning that, before becoming Prime Minister, Scott Morrison's biggest claim to fame in politics was being the guy that was so far up the coal lobby's arse that he literally brought coal into parliament and waved it around, claiming it doesn't hurt people.

So when a protest was organised it turned out to be one big national fuck you to the Prime Minister, the likes of which the world has never seen before or since.

Needless to say, at this point Scomo's career was dead in the water, but thanks to the rules brought in to stop Australian political parties from knifing their leader every two weeks (a popular Aussie passtime) Morrison basically couldn't get fired until after the next election.

And so, when the election rolled around in 2022, we decided that was an opportune time to travel over to Hawaii to erect this bad boy tribute to the Prime Minister, on the very beach where Scomo had sat and drank margaritas that one fateful week in December as Australia burned (thanks to @chaser for funding the ticket)

[writeblrfantasy]

my 10 holy grail pieces of writing advice for beginners

from an indie author who's published 4 books and written 20+, as well as 400k in fanfiction (who is also a professional beta reader who encounters the same issues in my clients' books over and over)

show don't tell is every bit as important as they say it is, no matter how sick you are of hearing about it. "the floor shifted beneath her feet" hits harder than "she felt sick with shock."

no head hopping. if you want to change pov mid scene, put a scene break. you can change it multiple times in the same scene! just put a break so your readers know you've changed pov.

if you have to infodump, do it through dialogue instead of exposition. your reader will feel like they're learning alongside the character, and it will flow naturally into your story.

never open your book with an exposition dump. instead, your opening scene should drop into the heart of the action with little to no context. raise questions to the reader and sprinkle in the answers bit by bit. let your reader discover the context slowly instead of holding their hand from the start. trust your reader; donn't overexplain the details. this is how you create a perfect hook.

every chapter should end on a cliffhanger. doesn't have to be major, can be as simple as ending a chapter mid conversation and picking it up immediately on the next one. tease your reader and make them need to turn the page.

every scene should subvert the character's expectations, as big as a plot twist or as small as a conversation having a surprising outcome. scenes that meet the character's expectations, such as a boring supply run, should be summarized.

arrive late and leave early to every scene. if you're character's at a party, open with them mid conversation instead of describing how they got dressed, left their house, arrived at the party, (because those things don't subvert their expectations). and when you're done with the reason for the scene is there, i.e. an important conversation, end it. once you've shown what you needed to show, get out, instead of describing your character commuting home (because it doesn't subvert expectations!)

epithets are the devil. "the blond man smiled--" you've lost me. use their name. use it often. don't be afraid of it. the reader won't get tired of it. it will serve you far better than epithets, especially if you have two people of the same pronouns interacting.

your character should always be working towards a goal, internal or external (i.e learning to love themself/killing the villain.) try to establish that goal as soon as possible in the reader's mind. the goal can change, the goal can evolve. as long as the reader knows the character isn't floating aimlessly through the world around them with no agency and no desire. that gets boring fast.

plan scenes that you know you'll have fun writing, instead of scenes that might seem cool in your head but you know you'll loathe every second of. besides the fact that your top priority in writing should be writing for only yourself and having fun, if you're just dragging through a scene you really hate, the scene will suffer for it, and readers can tell. the scenes i get the most praise on are always the scenes i had the most fun writing. an ideal outline shouldn't have parts that make you groan to look at. you'll thank yourself later.

happy writing :)

[drchucktingle]

this was a comment on one of my post from a recent live event. it was photos of joyful queer buckaroos celebrating together and proving love is real through creation, community, and a trot of love. most important I AM LITERALLY IN PHOTO AS A REAL FLESH AND BLOOD HUMAN

it got me thinking about how DEEP AND VICIOUS the irony poisoning of these early internet communities goes. the way buds like this cannot fathom someone just being a sincere person unrelated to their OWN old days of cynical posting. it is fascinating, and i will admit, sad too

despite a DECADE of work, countless live events, 350 tinglers written well before large language models were a thing, there are still people who cannot imagine someone like me could exist. it is a strange place to be. not just part of me, but my entire EXISTENCE is often gatekept

it is easy to say ‘well chuck your art IS strange’ but honestly i think it is more than that. magical realism is common. there are stories about dinosaurs and bigfeet and unicorns. this scoundrel reaction is about two unspoken things: my art is neurodivergent, and my art is queer

heres the thing: I WILL BE FINE. what concerns me is not an issue of MYSELF, it is a concern for the other young outsider buckaroos who see comments like this one and think ‘is that what they will say if i express MY unique way? will i be dehumanized like this at every turn?'

i will be honest, i cannot say that WONT happen, but i CAN say this: for as deep as this irony poisoning goes, it is slowly dying. the way i was treated at the start of my career is LIGHTYEARS DIFFERENT from the way i am treated now. there is a massive shift towards sincerity

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY. to young artists trotting up, the things that i am harassed over and doubted for and made fun of for are NOT tangental to what has made me successful, THEY ARE LITERALLY THE SAME THINGS THAT HAVE MADE ME SUCCESSFUL. YES I AM STRANGE, WHAT OF IT?

the things that you tuck away for fear of a review that says ‘there is a PROBLEM with this art because it has always been done another way’ THOSE ARE YOUR SUPERPOWERS. the gatekeepers want you to tuck those parts of yourself away because THEY TUCKED AWAY THOSE PART OF THEMSELVES

never forget that your unique way is PURE UNFILTERED 100 PERCENT ROCKET FUEL. it will stick out (maybe, if you are lucky, scoundrels will even say that someone like you could never actually be real), but sticking out isnt so bad when you are waving the flag of love.

in fact, when youre waving the flag of love, sticking out is pretty dang cool. what are flags for, after all? LOVE IS REAL BUCKAROOS. thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed this long post then please consider preordering BURY YOUR GAYS.

LETS TROT

[ubeb0nes]

Things Sevika says as your lover…

❧ ❧ ❧

Let me do it. / I'll handle it. / Don't worry, I'll take care of it.

She wants to take care of you so, so bad. Whether that's opening every door and pulling out every chair for you, or wiping someone off the face of the earth in your name.

She's in her element when she's of service. Deep down, she thinks that as long as she proves useful then your continued affection is almost guaranteed.

Can't do that anymore, my woman/partner said so. / Wrap this up. I gotta get home to them.

She is yours, no ifs or buts about it. And she makes sure everyone knows how fiercely loyal she is, she will not be doing anything to disrespect your boundaries or your relationship.

Obviously her work and her abrasive nature will put a natural strain on some parts of your relationship, but she's never intentionally causing you distress. Loyalty's her most important personal value, and you have the most of hers.

No, get behind me! / I said stay here. / I need you safe, understand?

You're a culmination of everything she's fighting for. All the beauty of Zaun, her reason for sticking her heart in this city, you are all of that personified. So you can't die. You can't get hurt.

If she has to lock you in the house to keep you from following her into a death mission, she will. You'll understand. She's always taken a beating for the ones she loves, the role thrust upon her that she now clings to like a hardy mask.

Stand down. / Down, baby. / I don't care if you don't like it, follow orders.

If you follow her into combat, good luck with getting bossed around like crazy. She always keeps you in her line of sight, preferably also within three feet of you so she can jump in front of you to sacrifice another limb if need be.

She's also absolutely zero nonense while working. She isn't flirting with you or showing vulnerability in front of her crew, but she is relishing in getting to tell you what to do (and she expects you to heed immediately).

'S all for you, doll… / Mm-mm, you're not getting up… / Pretty thing… so warm… love you so much…

She only ever talks like this when she's sleepy, or just waking up. She doesn't say I love you much (outside of when she's leaving for work), as to her, it takes away from the weight of it (WRONG imo, but in character i think lol).

The sweetest sweetheart ever when she's all wrapped up in your arms. Her voice is even lower in the mornings, with a distinct gravel to her tone. She uses it to her advantage, whispering such sweet things in your ear as she "subtly" traps you in her arms to keep you in bed.

She keeps repeating the same things over and over again, praising you and professing her love like there's no tomorrow. Her favorite love language switches to words of affirmation while she's drowsy lol.

So good to me, god you keep me sane. / I'm gonna fuckin' give you everything… / You smell so good, I could eat you (she then does actually try to bite you and you scream and push her off the bed)

Nsfw under the cuttt~

Uh uh, don't run from me. / Stop moving. / You're gonna take it either way, don't whine.

One of your favorite games is to see how long you can hold out being a brat (i.e., closing your legs every time she spreads them, shifting your hips away, etc.) before you make her snap and she just manhandles you.

Her displays of strength are usually subtle, like lifting you steadily off the floor and laying you down slowly on the bed without struggle. But when you do finally get her to snap, she's flipping you over on the bed like a pancake, and holding you up against the wall with just her human arm as she fucks you. She barely breaks a sweat holding you down on the bed, no matter how strong or how determined your bratty ass may be.

I'm never fuckin' sharing you, baby. / Look at me. Don't look away, those are *my* pretty eyes, I wanna see them. / Is that good, doll? Whose making you feel good? Mhm, and don't forget it…

Chances are that you end up being the jealous one in your relationship rather than her. But she is extremely possessive. When she gets especially in a mood, she's intent upon fucking you until your brain melts and you're nothing but putty in her hands, obsessed with her.

She reminds you how good she makes you feel, and how she's the only one that can fuck you that way. You're always extra cuddly and touchy in the days following, and she loves it because she knows it means she's stuck on your mind.

[14dayswithyou]

Some long-term followers may have noticed this subtle shift already (especially those who are in the 14DWY Discord server or have read this post), but I figured I'd make it official.

I'm no longer associating myself with the yandere VN community.

The TLDR is that the energy here really fuckin SUCKS!! And I don't want to be part of something so hostile and needlessly competitive.

The constant infighting and epicaricacy between communities is deeply upsetting, and it's very disheartening to see aspiring developers cancel their projects because of the unwarranted backlash and harassment they face.

Some entitled folks on here reeeeally need to understand that constantly harassing others for updates, encouraging developers to belittle others to make themselves/their project look better, complaining about a project not meeting the expectations you specifically put in place, attacking other communities because of the parasocial relationship you share with another developer, getting mad that you chose to ignore important PSAs or warnings and faced the repercussions, or even sending in hate messages on anon because you're bored are not things you should be doing — let alone be proud of.

I try to avoid bringing up these topics as it's not the vibe I want to have on this blog (nor do I want to negatively contribute to the Streisand Effect and blow things out of proportion), but I'm genuinely getting tired of being on the receiving end of all this harassment and negativity, seeing it happen to others, and watching other indie developers encourage such vile behaviour. I'm done.

For those wondering what this means for "14 Days With You": for the most part, everything will still continue like usual. I've said this from the very beginning, but 14DWY is just a passion project I pursue whenever I feel like it. It's something I do for fun as a hobby — not because I want to publish a well-known game or turn it into a career. I've been on Tumblr for over thirteen years now, and it's taught me how to grow thick skin, so everything that I'm yapping and yammering about won't stop me from working on 14DWY.

However, this does mean that I won't be as interactive with other developers or their communities anymore; many ill-natured people have ruined this for me.

Because of them, I'm no longer able to voice my opinion on other games without some opinionated rat whispering in my ear about how the developer is "problematic" or that I could get cancelled for simply following them on Twitter. I can't interact with certain games without its parasocial community becoming hostile or gatekeepy towards anyone they don't like. I've seen communities belittle and devalue promising demos because in their eyes, nothing can compare to their favourite game (or their favourite developer). I have been harassed, bullied, and doxxed by other communities and have seen the same thing happen to others as well. I've heard about the developers who weaponise their community's loyalty to attack and drive out their competition. And I've witnessed more than enough developers expressing how badly they want to take a hiatus due to how much unwarranted negativity they receive, but don't want to disappoint their community by doing so.

By saying all of this, you can understand why I dislike being here so much, as well as why I no longer find any enjoyment in interacting with the yandere VN community.

Many people here — fans and developers alike — are so needlessly pushy about their standards and personal opinions being the norm, and if anyone else goes against them, they'll purposefully try to ostracise and bully them out of the community. This place isn't as laid-back or inclusive as it used to be, and I don't want to be associated with a community that acts so hostile and aggressive towards anyone who shares a differing opinion — nor do I want to be part of a space that caters towards developers who'll tear down others in order to have a moment of relevancy.

We're all doing our own thing and making our own games; it shouldn't be a competition. But if you see it as such, then I urge you to take a moment to stop and rethink your actions — or, at the very least, understand how it's affecting you and others around you.

So until there's a reasonable change and people can go back to being less... demanding, hypercritical, and gatekeepy about who interacts with what, I'll be stepping away and continuing to stay in my own bubble, as I have for the past two years now. I've already unfollowed everyone associated with the yandere community many months ago, but I think I'll just unfollow everyone entirely now for my own peace of mind. I will also no longer be interacting with any yandere VN communities (aside from close friends), nor will I be as public with my interests from this moment on. Everything on this blog will be strictly related to 14DWY like usual, and I will continue to block and report any spiteful "anons"/burner accounts sent my way and delete their messages.

Again, this isn't really much of an announcement — it's more so just paragraphs of me bitchin and moanin 🫶 — but I wanted to get this all out there instead of leaving things unsaid and having people come to their own conclusions as to why I've suddenly become less active, less optimistic, and why I've stopped engaging with a majority of the yandere community in the last two years.

So, yeah... ^^; If there's anything I want y'all to take away from this entire post, it's to be kind, open, and understanding towards everyone — developers and communities alike — and to spread support rather than negativity. It's what I want my own community to be known for, so please be mindful of how you treat others online.

And if you find yourself being surrounded by constant toxicity and negativity (be it from friends, mutuals, or even other developers or communities), please don't feel ashamed to step away or cut them off entirely. Put yourself and your mental health first. I also think it'll be good for me to leave all this negative energy behind and continue to kick off 2025 in a better light, so if y'all need to let out any frustrations of your own, feel free to go ham in the replies (obviously, be kind and civil though jghsjg T_T)

[cursedcola]

Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle (Here) | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: Putting all my brain rot from my notes into something cohesive. Contrary to my love for ripping your hearts out, I've come with some fluff this time around. BTW you may or may not already do things mentioned - I write my works with a specific Yuu in mind for each character so this is based on them. Just a reminder.

Habits You Steal:

Bargaining (Inherited AND Developed): No partner of Azul's is a shmuck. Not because of his standards (a little bit), but because you will learn to negotiate through trial and error. Being his pearl does not exclude you from daily verbal tango. He can and will still come after Ramshackle if given the opportunity. What? Just come stay in Octavinelle. He won't even charge for it, and you can bring Grim. He is always three steps ahead. Buying him a present is like the world's most daunting task, because he somehow already knows what's inside the box. Every. Time. Even if you shop a year in advance. Don't even start with arguments. He has a rebuttal for EVERYTHING. There is never a winner, only a settlement because he is so stubborn (and you equally so. Pride is contagious). As adults you're constantly exposed to business deals and sometimes have to deal with handling negotiations. Not to mention people with grudges against Azul attempting to shmooze their way through you. Only to find that you are just as manipulative.

"Pearl, Jade says that our deal with the Bas triplets for the next semester has been renewed? I hadn't scheduled their extension meeting until the first Saturday of next month. Would you have anything to say on this?" <- Long story short, the triplets tracked you down to beg for help in getting out of their work contract with Azul. He was always fair, and they entered willingly. No corruption on his part...but they were hell bent on not working in the kitchens with Floyd anymore. Solution? You managed to shmooze an extra week on their terms, in exchange for not being put on Floyd's shift anymore. Azul is so proud - but don't do that again. You're the one telling Floyd he doesn't get to play 'spot the difference' with the triplets anymore. Not him.

Smell Sensitivity (Developed): Nothing shanks the nostrils like sea brine. No pun intended. Lingering around Octavinelle equates to constantly smelling fish. Most students there come from the coral sea and don't mind it. Others only stop in for a quick bite to eat, and don't stay a moment more. The Mostro Lounge just has a potent smell that can't be found anywhere else. Like McDonald's french fries...but fish. Grim loves it, you now get nauseated when a scented candle is lit.

"Must you pinch your nose? Think of my- Octavinelle's reputation for a moment" <- Azul is brewing a scent masking potion as we speak. You're really hitting his pride here, even if you can't help it.

Glasses Wipes (Developed): Octopunk heats up when you so much as touch him in public. Then his glasses get foggy. If you wear makeup, its smears on his skin (to which he acts unbothered, but we all know it's a ruse). He obviously carries a hankey but having some wipes on hand is a nice gesture. Unnecessary, but sweet-ish.

Refined Pallet (Inherited): The cup ramen and foraged greens just do not cut it anymore. Not when Azul's made a VIP menu over at the lounge just for you. Sure, the place has a variety of options but he'll always get Floyd to cook up whatever you're in the mood for. At a discount (since Grim can eat him out of pocket). Have you ever had 100% dark, sea-salt chocolate imported from the coral sea? Ever tasted it in a rich devil's cake, baked fresh with only the best ingredients? Betty Crocker, who???

"I must say, your diet could still use some work - do not look at me that way. The twins found your hidden stash of instant noodles during our 'occupation' at Ramshackle. Under the stairs, pearl? Really? When was the last time your sodium was checked?"

Aversion to Sea Food (Developed): You will never understand how the Coral Sea students are okay with the Mostro Lounge. Neither what was running through Azul's head when he decided to open a SEA FOOD restaurant. Honestly? Red flag. One you ignored, but still a red flag. The existence of merpeople and therianthropes is still new and novel to you. To each their own, but you can't eat any sea creatures knowing that it could be - no, it can't be? Floyd's always joking that Azul is tasty but...it's just a joke, right?

"As much as Floyd loves to special make your chicken strips with wedges...why do you never order from the public menu? I assure you, Mostro Lounge is supplied with only the highest quality - h-huh? What crazy thoughts are you having?! Honestly!" <- This explains so much. He always thought you stared at the food with envy, because Grim would eat your pocket out and leave you to sip on lemon water. He had to force the special 'vip' meals down your throat at the start. is this why you're so uncomfortable having lunch with Floyd and his weekly Takoyaki binge?

Appraisal (Developed): Ever see those shows where a professional goes around to antique markets, and can point out forgeries, fake gems, etc. by eye? That is Azul. He's a collector of gadgets and gizmos aplenty - anyway. Strolls through antique marts, coin collecting showcases, and other marketing events will undoubtably train the eye over time. No scammer will ever shmooze ya out of house and home. Sorry Sam.

Habits He Steals:

Jacket (Developed): Mermen run cold. The uniform blazer Azul dons is more-so just for show than anything. Clothes are overall a novel concept, since most in the coral sea dress minimalistic (or not at all). The lounge runs quite chilly as well. Not enough to deter customers, but the perfect temperature to get uncomfortable after a few hours. Now Azul has many jealous bones in his body, and would rather drop dead than see one of the leech twins loan out their blazer so you can nap in the back room (they're doing it on purpose). Azul often offers his coat out to you the moment you walk inside - so often, that all the part-time workers know if you're on lot if he's walking without it.

"I need my jacket back, please. Why? N-no particular reason. Do I need an excuse to wear my own clothes?" <- Ruggie - Mostro Lounge's most reliable and simultaneously difficult part timer, mind you - was the first to pick up the correlation. If the VIP lounge was shut, and Azul was out doing quality rounds? It meant you were in the back, and he was in a better mood. The perfect time to sneak a platter unnoticed. Azul must take precautions.

Snitches Get Stitches (Developed): ONE perk of living with ghosts. Honey you get ALL the tea on campus. You just need to butter them up with a game of pranks and it’s ripe for the taking. Now, who do you think is going to make full use of this? Azul. They won’t give it to him directly because it’s more fun to make him frustrated. Which means he has to go through you. *Which means* he gets very crafty in buttering you up for details.

Midnight Hour (Developed): This mainly applies to his adult years. Wherever he goes - business or otherwise - you come with more often than not. As a youth his dealings were important - yes. Yet he was still getting his swimming legs in business and his primary demographic was students. Contrary to his pride, Azul wasn't someone important. Someone actually worth targeting like the Briar Prince. The real world is much more risky. You can help with negotiations and running facilities. You might 'think' he is tossing you into the end zone with all his ambitions...but no. Any dealings with high-stake confrontations are handled only after midnight.

"Two-o-clock in the am hours. That is the latest I can offer - well, it seems we've reached an impasse. This deal clearly is not worth my effort, if such 'accommodations' are beyond your capabilities. Allow one of my partners to escort you off the premises." <- Let's make one thing clear. No contract is ever worth putting you at risk. One twin (usually Jade) will remain at his side, the other (Floyd...because he's honestly not the best for negotiations. More guard dog material, and has fun hanging out with you) back with at the house/hotel. Azul doesn't trust 'anyone', and the Leech family is obviously in business with him. He takes no chances, screw probability, and can't kill the inner control-nerd in him. He's never out past three-am and would rather you feel a bit left out then dead somewhere in the Stillwater.

Land Legs (Developed): Considering he will be on land more for the foreseeable future, Azul puts more effort to building his land legs. Not that he wasn't trying before, but there wasn't any guarantee that he'd be working the land beyond NRC. So with the reassurance that 'something' (someone) will require his attention on shore, he decides to invest the effort. Azul will not get on one of those flying deathtraps past academy years though. He's getting a license and pulling up in a new Bugatti.

Pictures (Inherited): Much to Azul's chagrin, you love photos. Maybe it's because you have little to recall from your own world. Maybe it's because you're in the photography club. Maybe it's because you love his misery - but you are always taking photos. At first he insisted that you never get him in the frame. He hates them. Still does, do not misunderstand...and the idea of someone having so many with him included eats him up. Yet his insistent denials do lessen, and he tolerates them. You cannot post them anywhere. Yet...he will only 'mildly' grimace when looking at them around your house. Only because who the heck is coming over that he hasn't approved of?

"This picture? Ah...that is my dear pearl. They are breathtaking, are they not? I truly am the most fortunate man alive. Ah. My apologies, let's return to discussing the contract terms. May I see your completed punch-card?" <- And because you're in them too. As a youth, he kept your photo on his desk in the lounge. Sometimes a client would ask about you, and he'd lapse for a moment before folding the frame down and out of their view. He'd tuck it away whenever you came around, but would talk to it when alone. About his day, his work, whatever first year came crying because Floyd used them as a dart board - and dare I say that he'd keep a family photo in your later years together. Azul hates pictures of himself, but not as much as he loves ones of you. Look at him. Big softie.

—

"Of course. I have remarkable potential as an instructor, do I not? Is it not a great fortune to have me as one's partner? Take this as a lesson that your boss can influence even the most lost souls." == Azul shows no reservation. The moment he caught two part-timers gossiping about your 'conversion' to the 'dark side'. Why, he was positively beaming. His grin wide with a touch of something sinister. Gossip is fine, but they should know better than to do so in his den. Anything noteworthy would undoubtably reach his ears with time, but oh was it a joy to watch them squirm. Honestly. They're fortunate that he's in such a good mood - what was intended to be slandering has just made his day. They're still getting put on shift with Floyd though. He's merciful, yet no martyr.

Habits you steal:

Foraging (Inherited): You are always looking around for plants to propagandize. It's like stealing but not - because Crowley doesn't have any 'rules' about it so...heh. Free food. Jade's a living encyclopedia when it comes to botany and agriculture. He's the whole reason you've got a mini apothecary going in the kitchen and that instant-noodle stash got amped up in flavor. What? you ever add some fresh mushrooms and green onions to that instant chicken yakisoba? Mwah. The mountain lover's club needs to look out, 'cause the Ramshackle Prefect is about to bleed campus dry for every last specimen.

Yapping (Developed): Spinning off the above 'route'. Many people think Floyd's the talkative twin. Nah. This motherf*cker does NOT shut up. He treats you like his second conscience, asking questions he doesn't expect to be answered and giving commentary like your own personal narrator. Who needs thoughts when he literally says everything before you can think it? Floyd salutes you - 'cause finally. Finally, it isn't him subjected to Jade's inner spiels. Sorry Shrimpy, you are a sacrifice he's willing to make. If you ever break up or fight with Jade - Floyd's going to hunt you down - he can never go back. Never.

On a side note, you're an excellent listener now.

Tea (Inherited): Do you hate tea? No you don't. Not Jade's tea. There isn't much to comment on here, other than you will develop a taste for his Atlantic Twice-Seeped Water-Lily brew. You'll be craving it every night if ever sent back to our world (as if that'll happen). Mixed with honey from the Afterglow Savannah and served in a baby-blue ceramic cup that has a shimmer handle. That's your mug, by the way. He has other brews...some improvised and caution is indeed extended. They're tasty for the most part though.

“Ah, just smell that aroma. I developed this blend made just for you, my dear. I’m not one to seek out sweet floral notes for my tea, yet this flavor is an acquired taste that pulls you in for more. I finish the cup without realizing each time” -> Jade can be sweet himself, when he wants to be.

Wearing gloves (Developed): Jade makes you touch weird shit. All the time. Unprompted. He also makes you eat weird shit, but more often than not you can escape by shoveling his experiments onto someone he can get a more interesting reaction out of. Classically condition him not to feed you the weird shit by being unresponsive - off topic. Point is that with his obscene collection of terrariums? Plus being pulled along for foraging quests? You will be touching unknown and possibly poisonous plants, bugs, dirt, maybe some aquatic creatures like toads and fish. For all that is good, keep a pack of rubber gloves in your schoolbag. Keep a pair of insulated leather gloves in your breast pocket at all times too. Hand Sanitizer as well. Who knows when you’ll be elbow deep in murky water riddled with mysterious rainbow moss. What makes it rainbow? You don’t know and Jade won’t say. He does quip that it changes colors with emotions. Screw Twisted Wonderland and it’s freakish botany.

“Oh my, would you look at that vibrant shade of purple. Why are you so frightened? These are meant to be happy ‘bonding’ times for us as a couple, isn’t that what you said? Fufu - oh. Hurry up and put it in this jar. You’ll ruin the sample at this pace,” <- In truth, Jade saw red blooming at the edges of the moss and called quits before your nerves turned to anger. Fear? Amusing. Especially since you have more harmful ‘house plants’ growing on the mantle back at your dorm. Curtesy of Jade himself, of course. Azul doesn’t let him store his more precarious collection in Octavinelle and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. Yet he won’t push the jokes too far, since so few ever come out foraging with him. No no. He needs you to continue as a willing participant. Don’t get angry at him just yet, there are still so many places to explore and the day is young!

Doppelgänger Paranoia (Developed): The Leech twins tried to pull that shit where they swapped places for a day. Therefore you are now freakishly paranoid of Floyd trying to take Jade’s place to pull a prank. It is no help that Floyd is insanely good at mimicking his brother and vice versa. Sure, you could make a keyword or ask Jade to wear something special as a give away. Mark him. Maybe make an excuse of it being a thing human couples do and stick a pin on his lapel. Yet there isn’t a guarantee that he won’t just let Floyd in on it to see what happens. He’s a jerk like that, but your jerk nonetheless.

“Your caution is entertaining, and I do find all this extra attention flattering. Yet there are more taxing worries to mull over, wouldn’t you agree? Surely I’ve earned enough trust to circumvent any doubts in that mind of yours?” -> Do you know that the twin-swap was just a one time trick? Probably not. Doing it again would be boring with no novel results, but Jade does love watching you squirm with suspicion. He’ll offer an assurance eventually, and it will be your call to believe him or not. Until then? He has no problem being under your watchful eye. It’s quite cute, after all.

Habits he steals:

Grammar Control (Developed): Purely to piss you off. Coming from another world - your dialect isn't exactly the same as everyone in Twisted Wonderland. There are region specific languages, and then there is the common tongue. For simplicities sake, let's just say that everyone in TWST can speak common tongue and transferring over gave you this ability. Except (like Epel) you carry a heavy accent - and Jade loves to play grammar police. Your irritation never ceases to amuse him. That's right. He's the train kid from the 'Polar Express'. Just less nasal.

“Let’s try to capture that illusive letter ‘R’, shall we? You don’t want to give onlookers any more ammunition as a respectable prefect.”-> Says the only person using this as ammunition, except for Ace when he gets really snappy and Riddle’s mild cringe when your accent butchers a toast at the Unbirthday party. At this point you’re hearing ‘red leather, yellow leather’ and ‘mark went on a lark after dark’ in your sleep.

Routes (Developed): Another one with the need to have a bit of control. Just a bit. Get ready to roll out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn, because he will be there at five-am sharp to haul you back to Octavinelle (or on a hike. Saturday's only). Isn't it a human custom to stick close to your partner? He's just making sure you're cared for. Which is why you exist attached to his hip most days

Symbiosis 1 (Developed): Only a mild-note for Jade. His brother, noted below, takes this concept more to heart. Jade uses it as an enhancing factor to an already “well-rounded” relationship. The law of the sea dictates that those stronger will enter a ‘pact’ with weaker creatures - protection in exchange for care. You are not in need of protection with that frosh posse and stubborn head of yours. Jade mostly uses this ‘symbiotic relationship’ as a way to get you to do things for him, and to talk down your impulsive behaviors from time to time. Aka you won’t create excessive trouble if it means he feels ‘bound’ to go with (as if he wouldn’t be overjoyed to get in some chaos)

Observation (Developed?): Jade...knows everything about you. It's infuriating (to you, not him), but you are still a potential client regardless of his personal interest. Hobbies, tastes, your worst and best subject, weaknesses -all categorized. Azul and his business come first. Yet you're the only student on campus that has a 'doctored' file. Why?

“I never realized you are adverse to crowds. Yet you handle navigating Night Raven with no difficulties? Is this a mere preference, or would you prefer to find somewhere quiet while I accompany the others? What do you need?” -> (During Playful Land Event) He can't get the finer details without asking questions. There is no source for information about your world or your person other than your word of mouth. His unique magic would be easy - but it's just one question. One, and you might be too resilient for a response. Where's the fun? What makes this a habit is that Jade's keen eye becomes sharper.

Ramshackle (Developed): Bro just moved in. I’m serious. He got permission by pulling a favor. Azul doesn’t let him keep the more precarious plants in Octavinelle, so Jade has overtaken the kitchen with potted flora and fungi. Floyd is enthusiastic that he doesn't have to share a room - what? Twins don't always stick together. Those two probably fight more than they get along. Plus with Jade at Ramshackle it's an excuse to go see what's up with Shrimpy and maybe play with torture the little freshies you hang around with. It’s chapter three but you aren't booted out and have to deal with both Leeches every day. Seven preserve you.

—

“I let my excitement get the better of me for a moment…please, continue as if I am not here. My apologies.” == How rare for Jade’s mask to slip in front of his underclassmen. He was able to brush it off - giving a fib about his clubs upcoming excursion (not entirely untrue. He is excited to go for a hike with you this weekend). Yet the normally dull gossip of his dorm-mates was too much to bare. Not because your changes are becoming more pronounced, but because these little fish are foolish enough to think it’s making him soft. Enough to gossip so blatantly in his earshot? Gods, they make his job much too easy.

Habits you steal:

Leering (Inherited): Floyd...oh dear. He has this habit of staring holes into the back of your head. Anyone's head, really. His presence is intimidating, and it's hard not to pick up what’s going on in his head. There's a catch to this though. You only leer at other people when he isn't around. Too busy with the man in question to bother 'people-watching' (unless you're actually pissed). Riddle is constantly on edge now because he has TWO people giving him the heebee-jeebies. Prefect, it was bad enough you were taking influence from ADeuce. Now the Leech brothers? Well, he'd still take you over Floyd any day. At least you won't try to act on that unsettling aura...yet.

“Somethin’ on my face?…why’re you staring at me like that? Unless you want my attention? Hehe, ya shoulda just said so!” <- Floyd can do it to you, but you can’t to him. Not unless you want to be suplexed and squished tightly for hours on end.

Impulse actions (Inherited): Chaotic energy anyone? Floyd needs a partner who is one of two things - can kick his ass on occasion so he'll play nice, or who will match his freak. Since matching the strength of a Moray Eel isn't something most humans can do? Well, maybe a bitch slap here or there but be aware he is letting it happen. Just know. Better be playful too, not no actual challenge. Point being- you need to match his freak. No buzz-kills.

“Ne Ne~ Yanno, I’ve never seen those super fancy fireworks you land people like to set off. Wanna go get some and rig the - eh? You already got them?….Hahaha Shrimpy’s getting gutsy. I’m so happy” -> His eyes are practically glowing with anticipation. You’re now Azul's third headache 1000%, someone get that man an Asprin.

Snacks (Developed): Floyd can EAT. The only one with a stronger appetite is Jade, but he has a better control over his hunger. While their bodies changed to look human, their appetites did not decrease. Going with ‘symbiosis,’ Floyd gets a bit needy and talks like you’re his internal clock. Jade’s the yapper but Floyd just expects you to know what he needs. So you will always be carrying a selection of snacks (Grim gets in on this) in your bag/purse. Also fidget toys. Not for eating, but to give him when you’re stuck anywhere particularly boring. Props if you can somehow get a two-in-one with the twisted wonderland equivalent of those Air Heads Pull-Aparts.

Lullaby and Goodnight (Developed) : Instant calming effect. Merfolk are very particular with music and are sensitive to vocals. Floyd in particular is super picky. You could be the worst singer on the planet (Floyd will give you half-assed lip for it if you are, in all fairness) but the easiest way to calm him down is with music. It’s cringey and unrealistic to us land-folk but there’s plenty of singing in Atlantica. So humming a soft lullaby for him while sitting together won’t earn any looks in Octavinelle. Unless you sound awful, to which he will punt anyone that speaks out. Not that they would, since a calm Floyd is a godsend no matter the means achieved.

“Did I say you could listen in, hah? Sounds to me like someone’s in the mood for ‘my’ kinda song….don’t move, Shrimpy. This’ll be quick.” <- Good or bad - doesn’t matter. Getting to hear you is Floyd’s privilege. He’s a bit possessive of it, to be frank. So if someone butts in when he’s in the middle of calming down, Floyd’s going to be pissed to the max.

The Little Mermaid (Inherited): Drags you down to the sea at every opportunity. Don’t fight him, just guzzle the vomit-inducing potion and get a move on. Floyd doesn’t care how much a mer-transfiguration potion costs, Azul can take care of it. Floyd hates being restrained to dry land, and hey. He’s up here, so it’s only fair you go down into the sea trenches too. Don’t worry, he won’t take you anywhere too dangerous. He’ll even teach you how to get your sea legs - fish legs? Look. He teaches you how to swim in your mer-form, which he is severely disappointed does not resemble a shrimp.

Habits he steals:

Phone Privileges (Developed) : Floyd’s cellphone is normally in DND mode at all times. The only exceptions are Azul and his Momma - Jade was one too up until they came to dry land. There’s only so many mushroom photos and long voicemails about random crap that Floyd can take. Oh - and you’re an exception now. He saves all your voicemails - some for callbacks to win arguments and others to play when he’s about to sleep. You just better be careful when you call him and what for, also always pick up if he calls you. Otherwise there’s going to be one angry eel lurking by your bedroom window. With ‘first-contact’ privileges, all the unflattering candid pics he has of you are just a click away from being shared if he feels like it (teases but wouldn’t do it. Well, unless you really are ignoring him. Be warned)

Using F*cking Doors(Inherited) : Yes. Yes, you read that right. Floyd loves to parkour across campus. The amount of times he’s snuck into Ramshackle through that tiny circle window in the attic is frustrating. You’re seriously considering bolting the thing shut if it keeps him off the roof and on the ground. Y’know, for someone who can’t fly a broom? He sure has no problem climbing brick walls with his bare hands like some kinda cockroach. A Leech cockroach. Jamil’s worst nightmare good god. After the sixth-or-so heart attack, Floyd’s not allowed anywhere near Ramshackle if it’s not through the front door. The ghosts have strict instructions to punt him…to which he took as a challenge (because of course he did). Until a window was smashed, and you sent hellfire down upon him.

“I said it was an’ accident! What more do you want from me, huh? It’s your fault anyway for sicking those ghost fish on me - Urk…fiiine. I’m sorry or whatever” <- Always will back down the moment you come across as genuinely pissed. Usually with a grunt and hiss under his breath, kicking his foot before stalking off to cool down for a bit. Always fixes whatever he broke or tries to make amends once his mood is less sour.

Symbiosis II (Developed): Paired with the above 'match his freak' and second rendition of Jade's. Except Floyd is 100% serious. Floyd's going to do right by you, but you've got to do right by him. People are going to wonder why the small-pint prefect is sitting here covering one of bro's shifts (they feared for your life when you basically told him to 'fuck off', knowing he was angry after getting scolded by Azul) but that's how it is. Floyd's symbiosis is different than Jade's. He's more impulsive, yet also more predictable with what he needs. The definition of "no one can tell me to do shit except my spouse" 'cause symbiosis is a mutual respect and trade. No one can pick on you except for him. No one can help you the way he does. He is not going anywhere. Ever. Bonded for life - that kind of ‘sappy shit’.

"I already said I don't wanna... ughhh, babysitting those frosh fishies is so booooring. Can't we just ask Azul to lock 'em in a tank or somethin'?.... ALRIGHT, Little Shrimpy. I get it already so stop yammering in my ear...." <- Floyd's the softer brother, if you can believe that. Acts of service are what get him and he thrives on being needed. So you'll be doing it a lot to earn that compliance from him. Be the iron fist that gets him to back down, and simultaneously the one slipping him a few party poppers to set off at one of Heartslabyul's tea-parties as a reward.

The ✨Fashion✨ (Developed) : Surface-world fashion is one of Floyd’s special interests. Oddly enough? You’re a perfectly-sized dress up doll. It’s cute how large his shoes are in comparison to your feet. Hah! You look like a clown clobbering around in those things. He 100% gives you a pair of light up sneakers that sparkle when you walk - makes it easier to find you in crowds. Not that he needs to. Mostly it’s just for fun. He’ll even get a matching pair so you don’t feel zeroed out.

VIP Menu (Developed) : Floyd has a ‘secret’ menu over at the Mostro Lounge. He’s the head cook, don’t ya know? Makes real tasty dishes. C’mon, praise him. He’ll add a few dishes just for you since you’re so picky - that’s a bad trait to have for a broke Shrimp by the way. Good thing he’s around to make sure you’re eating.

“Oi! I told ya that was for you. If the lil’ seal’s hungry he can get somethin’ off the menu on his own…unless he’s lookin’ for a squeeze?” <- One major gripe Floyd has with Grim is how he’s always mooching off your plate. It’s fine if Azul’s picky with his food, cause that’s Azul. You’re different ‘cause in Floyd’s mind responsible for you. Again. He takes the symbiosis thing more seriously than Jade, and will poke your cheek relentlessly and comment if it’s lost it’s squish. He always serves you something to eat, even if you don’t order. Doesn’t let anyone else prepare it either.

Protective (Developed) : At the risk of sounding like a broken record, Floyd is very attentive. He’s clingy as hell and always looking for an excuse to have a good tussle - you’re his favorite person to screw with. Yet only himself, Azul, and Jade get the green card to look at you with anything other than respect. Cause he knows they don’t mean it - and even your little freshman buddies don’t get a pass. Maybe the seal since Floyd could squish Grim like a grape and he knows it. Leona’s almost gotten many challenges for the whole ‘herbivore’ thing.

—

“ ‘s nice, right? What’s better than one of me? Two, hah! Jade might have my face but now Shrimpy’s got my personality” == Finds the situation funny for like, an hour? Maybe two? Doesn’t matter because ‘Shrimpy is Shrimpy’ - plain as that, really. He gets more joy out of teasing people when they find out you’re with him. As if Floyd gives two sh*ts what other people think? Nah.

[dearlenore]

CRAWLING BACK TO YOU • S.REID

SUMMARY: when Spencer finds himself back in his hometown on a case, he never expected to run into you, his Highschool sweetheart.

PAIRING: fem!reader x spencer

tags: reader is a trouble maker , reader is a lil manic pixie dream girl core…(sorry) fluff for the most part! Usage of y/n once or twice??

a/n: pretend he’s a normal age in Highschool…

w/c: 1.0K

YOU ALWAYS KNEW you’d run into Spencer Reid again.

Not because you were pining—please, you had moved on. But because fate had a funny way of making things come full circle. And considering the way Spencer used to insist on rational probabilities while you believed in cosmic inevitability, this moment felt like a win.

The moment being Spencer walking into the café where you were currently stirring far too much sugar into your overpriced latte.

You spot him before he sees you. He’s taller, sharper, and still somehow manages to look both put-together and like he forgot what sleep is. The FBI badge clipped to his belt is an interesting touch, but the most fascinating part?

He doesn’t notice you.

Yet.

You wait until he’s focused on whatever case file he’s holding—because of course he’s reading while waiting in line—before making your move. Sliding out of your chair, you weave through the café with the ease of someone who has perfected the art of casual entrances.

Then, right as he’s reaching for his wallet, you lean in close.

“Didn’t anyone teach you it’s rude to show up in my city without saying hello?”

Spencer tenses. Then, slowly—like he’s calculating the statistical likelihood of you being real—he turns his head.

The moment his eyes land on you, you see it. That flicker of recognition. The slight widening of his gaze. The way his lips part, just barely, before he catches himself.

“Y/N?”

You grin. “Doctor Reid,” you tease, stepping back with a dramatic once-over. “Wow. You got all serious-looking. When did that happen?”

His mouth opens, then closes. “I—what are you doing here?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Uh, living? Some of us didn’t run off to Quantico and forget about our hometown.”

“I didn’t—” He sighs, rubbing his temple. “I didn’t forget.”

“Mmhmm.” You sip your latte, unimpressed. “So, what, you’re just in town for a case? Here to be all important and FBI-y?”

Spencer glances around, then leans in. “You know I can’t talk about that.”

“Ooooh, classified,” you whisper dramatically. “That’s fun.”

Spencer exhales sharply, but you see the small, reluctant smile threatening to form.

Some things really never change.

“So,” you say, tilting your head. “Are you gonna pretend you’re too busy saving the world, or can I steal a little of your time?”

He hesitates, and for a second, you think he might actually say no. But then he looks at you—the way he always used to, like you were a puzzle he never quite solved—and sighs.

“Fine. But only for a little bit.”

You grin, grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward your table.

“Knew you couldn’t resist me.”

Spencer hesitates for a moment before following you to your table. You see it in the way he shifts his weight, in the way his fingers drum against his coffee cup—he’s debating whether this is a bad idea.

It probably is.

But that’s never stopped you before.

You slide into your seat, crossing one leg over the other as he settles across from you, still eyeing you like he’s waiting for you to disappear. You tilt your head, smiling.

“You know, you can blink. I promise I’m real.”

Spencer exhales, setting his coffee down with a careful precision that screams I am trying not to react to you. “It’s just… unexpected.”

You hum, stirring your drink again even though there’s nothing left to mix. “Unexpected how? Like seeing an old friend and thinking, ‘Wow, I should’ve kept in touch with them’ kind of unexpected? Or more of a ‘This person is a walking distraction and I should flee immediately’ kind of unexpected?”

His lips press together. You grin.

“Should I be concerned that you categorized those so quickly?” he asks.

“I like to be prepared,” you say breezily. “So? Which one is it?”

Spencer exhales, finally meeting your gaze properly. “I did think about keeping in touch.”

Something flickers in your chest. A warmth, a whisper of oh.

But you keep your expression light. “You? Doctor Spencer Reid? The guy who’s too busy solving the world’s problems? Please.”

“I’m serious,” he says, voice softer now. “I just… didn’t know how.”

That makes you pause.

Because for all your teasing, for all the bravado you so easily slip into, there was a time when Spencer was a constant in your life. Back in high school, when he was the awkward genius with too many books and you were the sharp-tongued force of nature who refused to let him disappear into the background.

You still remember the late-night conversations, the times you dragged him out of his comfort zone just to prove he could survive outside of academia. And, of course, you remember the way it ended—quickly, cleanly, like ripping off a bandage.

Spencer got his big FBI opportunity.

And you? Well, you weren’t about to stand in his way.

You twirl your spoon between your fingers, choosing your words carefully. “You could’ve just called, you know. Or written one of those overly detailed letters you used to leave in my locker.”

“I—” He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You still remember those?”

“Please. They were like little research papers on us.” You smirk. “If I recall correctly, one of them included an entire probability breakdown on why we were ‘statistically likely’ to last through college.”

Spencer groans, burying his face in his hands. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“It was sweet,” you admit, before adding, “and incredibly nerdy.”

Spencer lifts his head, giving you a look. “Well, you liked nerdy.”

You shrug, sipping your drink. “I liked you.”

The words come out easily—too easily—but you don’t regret them. Because it’s true. You did like him. A lot. Maybe even more than you ever let yourself admit.

Spencer clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “And now?”

The question lingers between you, heavy with meaning.

You could be coy. You could tease him, brush it off like you always do. But something about the way he’s watching you makes you pause.

So instead, you smile. Soft. Honest.

“I think I still do.”

Spencer doesn’t move for a moment. Then, ever so slightly, his fingers tighten around his cup.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, almost like he’s testing the word out. “Me too.”

The café hums around you, the sound of coffee beans grinding, of quiet conversations, of the world continuing like nothing has changed.

But for you?

Something just did.

[rose24207]

what about reader finding out that mafia lando started dating her to like investigate something related to her family but he ended up actually falling in love with her? like angst but with a fluffy ending

My everything

Summary: After discovering that Lando had only pursued you to investigate your family, your heart shatters—but as you try to walk away, his desperate pleas and undeniable love make you question if, despite everything, you can ever stop loving him.

Mafia!Lando x reader

Genre: angst, fluff

TW: Mafia Business, betrayal, lying, anything else?

A/N: FINALLYYY! I am done with my pre finals!! Well, until the end of April, where I have my finals but until then I AM A FREE WOMANN

Navigation

You had always known there was something dangerous about Lando Norris.

The way he carried himself—confident, untouchable. The way people moved out of his path without him saying a word. The way his eyes darkened whenever someone so much as looked at you the wrong way.

But you had convinced yourself that, despite the power and mystery that surrounded him, he loved you. That with you, he was just Lando, not the feared mafia leader whispered about in hushed tones.

Until tonight.

Tonight, the illusion shattered.

The moment you stepped into his study, your entire world came crashing down. Documents were spread across his desk—photos, reports, surveillance images. And in the middle of it all, your family’s name.

Your hands trembled as you picked up a folder, flipping it open to reveal pictures of your father, your brother, and—most gut-wrenching of all—you. Pages and pages detailing your family’s business, every connection, every deal. Notes scribbled in the margins in handwriting you recognized as his.

Lando had been investigating you.

Your breath caught in your throat as you heard footsteps approaching. You barely had time to wipe away the angry tears before Lando appeared in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to dread as he saw what you were holding.

"Y/N," he started, his voice softer than you had ever heard it.

"How long?" Your voice wavered, but you refused to let him see you crumble. "How long have you been lying to me?"

He took a step forward, but you moved back, clutching the folder to your chest like a shield.

"Please, just let me explain."

"Explain what?" you snapped. "That this entire relationship was built on a lie? That you were using me to get to my family?"

Lando’s jaw clenched. "It wasn’t like that—"

"Then what was it like?" you demanded, your voice rising. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like that."

Silence.

And that was the most painful part—he couldn’t deny it.

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. "God, I was so stupid. I thought—" Your voice broke. "I thought what we had was real."

"It is real."

You met his gaze then, and the anguish in his eyes almost made you believe him. Almost.

"If it was real, you would have told me the truth," you whispered. "But you didn’t. You lied to me, Lando. Every moment we spent together, every kiss, every ‘I love you’—was all of it just part of the plan?"

"At first." His voice was hoarse. "At first, yeah, it was."

You flinched like he had physically struck you.

"But then I fell in love with you." He took another step forward, desperation written all over his face. "Y/N, I swear, I never meant for it to happen. I never meant to hurt you. But somewhere along the way, you became the most important thing in my life. And when I realized that, I didn’t know how to tell you the truth without losing you."

You swallowed hard, your heart at war with your mind. His words sounded sincere, but how could you trust him now?

"You already lost me, Lando," you whispered, shoving the folder into his chest as you brushed past him.

He caught your wrist. "Please, don’t do this."

You looked at him one last time, blinking back tears. "You did this."

Then you pulled away, leaving him standing alone in the room that now felt as cold as the betrayal settling deep in your chest.

The days passed in a blur of heartbreak.

Lando called, texted, even showed up at your apartment, but you refused to see him. You needed space, needed to breathe, needed to stop feeling like your heart had been ripped from your chest.

But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

You thought about the way he held you at night, the way he whispered promises against your skin. The way he had made you feel like the most loved person in the world.

Had it all been an act? Or had he truly fallen for you?

You didn’t know what to believe anymore.

Then one night, you heard a knock at your door. Expecting Lando, you almost didn’t open it—until you heard a voice you didn’t recognize.

"You should talk to him."

You hesitated before slowly opening the door, coming face-to-face with one of Lando’s men. His right-hand man, Max, if you remembered correctly.

"Why should I?" you asked, your tone guarded.

Max sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Because he’s not okay without you. He’s been a mess since you left. He barely eats, barely sleeps—hell, he hasn’t even been handling business properly. You changed him, Y/N. And now that you’re gone, it’s like he doesn’t know how to exist anymore."

Your heart clenched painfully. "That’s not my problem.“

"Maybe not," Max said. "But I thought you should know."

And then he left, leaving you standing there with your thoughts.

It took you another two days to gather the courage to face him.

When you finally did, you barely recognized the man in front of you.

Lando looked wrecked. His hair was messier than usual, his face unshaven, dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

"Y/N," he breathed the moment he saw you, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he blinked.

You swallowed hard. "Tell me the truth. Did you ever really love me, or was it all a lie?"

His eyes filled with something raw—something real.

"I love you," he said without hesitation. "I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you."

Your lip trembled, but you refused to cry. "Then why didn’t you tell me?"

"Because I was a coward," he admitted, stepping closer. "I was terrified of losing you. And I did anyway." His voice cracked. "And I don’t know how to fix it, Y/N. I don’t know how to make you believe me, but I swear—I swear—that loving you is the only real thing I’ve ever known."

Your walls wavered, but you still whispered, "I don’t know if I can trust you again."

Lando exhaled shakily. "Then let me prove it to you. However long it takes, whatever I have to do—just tell me there’s still a chance."

Silence stretched between you, thick with emotions neither of you knew how to navigate.

Then, finally, you whispered, "I don’t know how to stop loving you either."

A choked breath left him as he pulled you into his arms, holding you as if you might disappear. You melted against him despite yourself, breathing in the scent you had missed so much.

"I’ll never lie to you again," he murmured into your hair. "I swear it, Y/N. You’re my everything."

And maybe it would take time. Maybe the wounds wouldn’t heal overnight.

But as Lando pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, you knew one thing for certain.

Despite everything, your heart still belonged to him.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris, @dr3wstarkey, @hurtblossom, @ernegren, @esposamultifandom, @darleneslane

[fastandcarlos]

"Uncle Charles?" : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: for the first time charles feels as if he's part of your family, all thanks to your car obsessed niece

Your hand waved into the air as you noticed Charles appear in your parents’ garden, dressed still in bright red Ferrari after finishing for the day. There were children running around everywhere as you celebrated your niece’s birthday, with Charles appearing at the end of the day. 

Despite you assuring Charles that he didn’t need to worry about attending, he was adamant he was going to make the time. When he appeared, your family were more than surprised, knowing just how busy Charles had been as the start of the new season loomed. 

As Charles made his way over to you though, he was intercepted by a voice calling out his name, a figure running across and leaping up into his arms. Charles stumbled back as your niece leapt up and gave him a hug, her arms going tightly around his neck as Charles held onto her waist, carrying her over to where you sat. 

“Happy birthday cherie,” Charles grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You look like you’re having a good time,” he added, taking a look around the garden. 

“I was waiting for you to arrive,” she excitedly told him. 

As Charles sat down beside you, he placed your niece back onto the ground, but she refused to let him go. With her still holding on, he leant across and pressed a kiss to your cheek to try and greet you, but your niece was having none of it. 

“Did training go well?” You asked, unable to hold back your laughter as your niece invited herself to sit up in Charles’ lap, ignoring her friends who were calling for her to play with them. 

The bond that Charles had with your niece had always been close ever since they first met. He was beyond amazing with her, which your sister was particularly a big fan of, finding herself getting giddy whenever Charles was around, never quite being able to leave him alone for too long. 

“Yeah, for once, it actually went pretty well,” Charles smiled, his voice filled with relief after what could only be described as a tricky build into the preseason preparations. 

As he sat with your family though, he was reminded about what was important. As much as he wanted the car to do well, what mattered the most was the people around him, particularly the little one in his lap who was over the moon to be able to spend her birthday with him. 

“I’m happy that you managed to make it here though,” you told him, keeping your eyes on your niece, “and I think I know someone else who is pretty happy to have you here too.” 

If he was honest, Charles wouldn’t have missed it for the world, although your niece wasn’t on his side of the family, he still absolutely adored her. He wasn’t blind to how close they were too, knowing that she was counting on him to show up for her. 

“What’s been the highlight of your day princess?” Charles asked as your niece shifted to look up at him, her hands cupping against his cheeks. “There’s got to be one present that you can’t wait to show me later on tonight.” 

Her head nodded, turning round to face Charles properly again. “My favourite present is your present that you bought me,” she proudly told him, recalling the Ferrari car that you’d bought her, well, a child sized one at least. 

Charles’ smile turned up as she spoke, “I had a feeling that you’d like it. Maybe I can try and get some Ferrari clothes for you so that you can look the part too.” 

Your niece nodded instantly, “I want to be just like Uncle Charles, that would be awesome.” 

Your eyes flickered across to Charles, making sure that he was listening to. A gasp came from him, his eyes lighting up as he took a moment to make sure that he wasn’t just dreaming what he had heard. 

“Want to be like who?” Charles asked her, wanting to hear it one more time to make sure that he was correct. “Who is it that you want to be the same as?” 

“Uncle Charles,” she giggled, “I want to be able to drive really fast when I’m older and drive all of the cool cars.” 

“Uncle Charles,” Charles whispered to himself, “well, that’s pretty cool.” 

You reached across and pressed your hand against Charles’ shoulder to try and keep him together, sensing that he was feeling slightly overwhelmed. Your niece was unaware of what she had done, but hearing her finally call him uncle meant more to Charles then he could ever express. 

“I’m going to go and ask mummy if I can play with the car soon,” your niece told you both, climbing out of Charles’ lap. “I want you to show me how to do it before you go home so I can be as fast as you.” 

Charles helped her down before shifting his body to look around at you, letting go of a chuckle of disbelief. You smiled widely across at him, nudging against Charles’ arm gently. 

“You must be pretty important for her to call you uncle,” you told him, brushing your hand through his hair. “She absolutely adores you Charles, apparently you’ve got your own mini me in the future already too.” 

“She’s a good kid,” Charles hummed, still slightly in disbelief. “I’m trying to be chill about this, but inside my heart is absolutely racing right now.” 

You could tell from the look in his eyes that it meant the world to Charles, your family were all special to him, but the children in your family were a little more. He loved being around them, entertaining them and making them smile, which he seemed to do perfectly. 

“It sounds like I’ve got to find a pretty good present for next year too,” he chuckled, “do you think your sister might hate me for buying her a Ferrari?” 

“I dread to think the state her house will be in soon,” you sniggered. 

As guilty as Charles wanted to feel, seeing how excited your niece was about her gift made it all worth it for him. “I might have to go and apologise otherwise she’ll never speak to me again.” 

“Well, you’ve definitely won the competition for best present this year,” you joked, slipping your hand into his. “She won’t be mad at you for too long anyway, she adores you, my whole family do to be honest.” 

“They’re awesome,” Charles encouraged, “I’ve never known a group of people to make me feel so welcome in my life, I feel like I’ve always been here with you guys.” 

“Now you’ve got no choice but to be stuck with us too.” 

“I’m not complaining,” Charles noted, pulling you up from where you sat, twirling you around and letting you fall into his lap. Charles’ arms wrapped around your frame, allowing you to replace your niece in his hold. 

“Seems you’ve got a future as a driver coach too.” 

Charles’ head shook, unable to hide his excitement, knowing that over the next few days whilst he was home he’d be out playing with your niece, showing her the ropes of the new car that he’d bought her. 

“How does it feel to officially be an uncle?” You grinned, pressing a kiss against Charles’ cheek. 

“It feels pretty special indeed.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[agreeewrites]

A Weekend at the Weasley's | G.W.

feat. George Weasley x ravenclaw!reader

summary: you and george become best friends after a poorly timed prank. george has been pestering you for weeks to stay with him at the Burrow for a weekend over the holidays, and you finally cave.

cw: smut (MDNI 18+), dead parents, pining, Percy being a weirdo, quidditch injury and bruising, george still has two ears and a twin, lots of dirty talk and petnames, equal parts fluff and smut

an: george and reader are over eighteen in this fic. timeline is def wrong. but who caaaaaaares bc it's not me!

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“C’mon, feathers,” George begged, shifting from his place on the couch to kneeling on the floor in front of you. “I promise you’ll enjoy yourself.”

“George, I don’t—”

“Would I ever put you in harm’s way?”

You scoffed. “Well, there was the time you lit my potions homework on fire, and the time you transfigured my chocolate frog into an actual frog. Or the time you and Fred—”

“Besides that!” He huffed, resting his chin on your knees, blinking up at you with round eyes. “Pleeeeaaasssseee, y/n? Come to the Burrow with me.”

You sighed, ignoring the way the Gryffindor common room fireplace made his brown eyes almost golden, freshly brewed espresso with nutty foam. You couldn’t deny George was handsome, most girls at Hogwarts fawned over him or his twin, or both. But George was your friend, as you often repeated to yourself in moments like these, when that mischievous smirk softened to a smile just for you.

“Bloody hell. Fine!” You shoved him off of you to escape his puppy-eyed trap.

“Yes!” He whooped, jumping to his feet. “It’s about time my mum meets my best girl—shit!”

You chucked your Potions books at his head. “Not your girl,” you huffed.

“Says you,” he teased, returning the book to you before flopping back down on the red couch, legs draped across your lap.

“Read the damn pages, Weasley.”

You tried to reimmerse yourself in your studies, but can’t seem to fall back into the reading, losing track of each sentence before it’s finished. George had been pestering you for weeks to spend a portion of the upcoming holiday break with him at the Weasley household, and up until now, you’d successfully resisted. But then he found out your grandparents were going on a trip to Spain for two weeks and became unbearable.

When George set his mind to something, he was stubborn as an ox.

And, despite yourself, you wanted to spend a few more days with him. You loved the Weasley siblings you’d met at school, and heard countless tales of Molly Weasley’s unbelievable Sunday roasts. It couldn’t be that bad, could it?

You were reserved by a nature, a studious and creative Ravenclaw from a muggle household. All things that stood at odds with one, ginger-haired George Weasley. But when a prank in fourth year set for Professor Snape backfired on you, his top student, and ruined your robes, the twins felt so awful they’d taken you to the Three Broomsticks for what George dubbed a “Butterbeer of Forgiveness”.

An unexpected friendship bloomed, and you’d been close with the twin’s ever since, George in particular. You loved Fred, and had countless memories with him, but you and George connected on a deeper level. From the moment you’d met, it was as if you’d always known one another. You could read him almost as well as Fred could, and George could read you better than anyone.

It was unnerving, exhilirating, and by far the most important relationship in your young life. Which is why you squashed any wandering thought about his freckles, his jawline, the way his forearms flexed while he read, or the way his chest heaved after a Quidditch match, his hands spidered with veins after hours of gripping the Beater’s Bat.

And when he called you things like his ‘best girl’, it turned your knees to jelly, your mind inside out. There was no way you’d finish your work now.

“I’m going back to the Tower. I have no idea how you Gryffindor’s get any work done with all this gold.” You stuffed your books into you back and stood, adjusting your robes.

“I’ll walk you,” George said, tossing his book aside. It looked like he hadn’t made any progress either.

“No, no. Finish your work. I’ll meet you in the Great Hall for breakfast, bags packed.”

“It’s a date!” He called as you walk away, and you can practically hear the grin on his face.

“Not a date!” You tossed over your shoulder as you stepped through the portrait.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“My darlings!” Molly cooed, collecting her youngest two children into a massive hug at the train station terminal. You hid behind George, hoping somehow that she’d overlook your presence entirely. But of course, George wasn’t having it.

“Mum, this is y/n!” He grabbed you by the shoulders and thrust you out in front.

“George,” you hissed, but Molly was already upon you.

“Oh, y/n! I’ve heard so much about you! It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you. We were absolutely delighted when George’s letter arrived telling us you’d be accompanying him,” she chirped, fussing with your h/c hair and blue and bronze scarf.

“It’s lovely to meet you too, Mrs. Weasley,” you said, smiling at her and her quieter husband, who was busy chatting with Harry and Ron.

George slung an arm over your shoulder, wafting his cinnamon-y cologne over you. “Shall we?”

You scowled up at him as he dragged you along behind his family, oblivious to your hesitation, or willfully ignoring it.

The crowded car ride home was chaotic, with everyone speaking loudly over one another, George and Fred the loudest of all in either ear, and by the time you arrived, you heart was thrumming loudly in your head, your chest tight with anxiety.

All you could think about was throwing yourself out of the car door and running back to Hogwarts on foot.

Everyone poured out of the car, bounding across the lawn and up to the slightly crooked, red-roofed home, smoke buffeting cheerfully from the many chimneys.

“Y/n?” George said, pausing when he realized you weren’t in step beside him. Something in your expression gave you away, and his smile fell. “Hey, what is it?” he asked, jogging back towards you and placing his hands on your arms.

“I, it’s…” words failed you as emotion pinched your throat.

“Too much?” he asked, giving you a sympathetic smile.

You nodded, shame scorching your cheeks as you looked down at your feet. The tips of his boots were touching yours, so much larger, a worn brown leather juxtaposing your shining black.

“It’s going to be alright, love,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to warm you up. “It means a lot to me that you’re here, even if it’s a bit overwhelming. But, hey—” he tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at his handsome, wind-bitten face. “They love you already.”

“You told them about me?” You asked, your nerves alchemizing from wasps to butterflies.

“Of course I did.” He chuckled like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They’re probably sick to death of hearing about you, honestly.”

“Like how I’ve been tutoring you in Potions for two years?” you taunted.

“I’m sure they assumed after I told them your were the brightest witch in our year.” His eyes twinkled with mischief, ginger hair falling across his brow, and your heart gave a new sort of thump. One that made you a bit queasy with it’s intensity.

“I don’t know about brightest,” you argued as he tucked you under his arm once again, leading you toward the open front door.

“I do,” he murmured, ushering you inside and into his mother’s waiting embrace.

“C’mere, sweetheart. Help me with these rolls.” She tugged you down the hall, leaving George to be ambushed by his brothers.

“Who’s the eagle?” You heard what you assumed it be the eldest ask before you were whisked into the hearth-like kitchen.

Twenty minutes later and you were back at George’s side, sandwiched between him and Ginny at the dinner table, while everyone fought for a foothold in the conversation.

George’s thigh was warm against your own, familiar and grounding, and you resisted the urge to lean into him fully for shelter. Dutifully, he started filling both of your plates as dishes went by, allowing you to sit and take it all in. He snagged the bowl of garlic potatoes from Ron and added a giant scoop to your plate, knowing they were your favorite.

“Thank you,” you mumbled to him, and he gave your shoulder a light bump in response.

“So, y/n. George mentioned you’re a Potions whiz?” Arthur asked through a mouthful of roll.

Heat crept up your neck as everyone’s attention swiveled to you. “It’s my favorite subject, yes sir,” you answered sheepishly.

“She passed her Potions O.W.L. in fourth year,” George said proudly, beaming down at you. “She’s onto custom lesson plans with Snivelus now.”

“George!” Molly corrected, but he only laughed.

“That’s impressive,” Percy said, nodding at you from across the table. “Brilliant and beautiful.”

“I, uh, thanks,” you stutter, stuffing a forkful of potatoes into your mouth.

George stiffened, but his smile never wavered. “That she is.”

“So, what do your parents do? Were they in Ravenclaw as well?” Arthur asked.

The blood drained from your face. You had so hoped this wouldn’t come up.

George’s hand fell onto your leg, his long fingers looping around your pinky and twining your hand with his. “She lives with her grandparents. Muggles,” George said, the finality in his tone ensuring there would be no further questions.

Arthur stuttered an apology, and the rest of the table looked away nervously. But Molly smiled proudly at her son, a slightly flush to her round cheeks.

Again, your heart gave that brutal pang, and your hand squeezed his a little more tightly.

The meal continued on, and you blessedly fell into the background while the other’s talked about their work and the school year. Or, you at least thought you fell into the background, but every time you glanced up, you found Percy’s gaze lingering on you, hawkish.

You had met the third eldest brother on many occasions, as he often escorted you from the Gryffindor common room to the Tower when curfew struck. But he’d never looked at you like that. And frankly, it made your skin crawl.

You weren’t naive. You knew you were beautiful, intelligent, witty, all of the things that drew a wandering eye. But Percy was far from someone you’d be interested in. And you were here with George, after all, even if it was for purely platonic reasons.

You shifted a little when Percy’s gaze lingered a fraction too long, and accidentally alerted George to your discomfort. He leaned down towards you, his height ensuring your head barely reached his shoulder.

“Okay, feathers?” He murmured, but caught Percy flinching his gaze away at the same moment. “Percy bothering you?” he whispered, and you shook your head no. An obvious lie by the way you shifted marginally closer to George when Percy’s gaze returned. “I’ll handle it.” George straightened, slipping back into his ongoing conversation with Fred and Charlie, but you felt his hand skim past your leg, brushing against your calf as he reached for his wand.

The contact sent a tremor through your muscles, your nerves stretching towards every point of contact with him until it was all you could think about.

“George, what are you—”

He coughed something that sounded an awful lot like ‘incendio’ into his elbow, wand hand flicking under the table at the same moment. Percy leapt up, the crotch of his trousers igniting with flame.

Everyone but you and the twins scrambled up, Molly quickly tossing the cauldron of water at Percy’s pants.

“Could’ve been a little more subtle,” Fred chastised George with a smirk.

“I wasn’t going for subtlety,” George replied. “I was going for ‘burning his bollocks off’.”

You hide your snicker behind your hand, the last of your anxiety unraveling. George was with you, you were safe.

Once the fire was out, dinner was disbanded with the twins being sentenced to dishes duty, since it had to be one of them that set their brother’s trousers on fire. You were whisked off on a house tour by Ginny, who eagerly showed you the in’s and out’s of the Burrow until you were dragging your feet, eyes heavy with exhaustion. But you had to admit that you were feeling more at ease, the Burrow and it’s residents wrapping around you like a favorite blanket.

You collapsed into bed just after midnight, a flickering glow in your chest, and a red-haired trickster in your thoughts.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Two more days passed at the Weasley residence, filled with games, oversized meals, books, and antics. There was never a dull moment with the twins and Charlie around.

But the best part, by far, was watching George’s mischevious walls come down, and seeing the softer, more relaxed version of him step forth. He was a devoted brother and son, often forgoing his own needs to help his mother reach something in the kitchen, or offer Ron a bit of girl advice. He spent many hours in deep conversation with is father and older brothers, speaking to a wide breadth of subjects you had no idea he had any knowledge about.

George, that bottomless bundle of fizzing energy, seemed even more lively around his favorite people, his heart on full display. And, if you were honest, it was doing funny things to your head and heart.

You found yourself searching for his eyes across the room, smiling at silly things he’d said hours prior, ghosting your fingers over the places he’d brushed against you while passing by. You’d even take a whiff of his coat when he’d come in after a walk with Charlie and tossed it onto the banister.

He seemed older somehow, more mature than you’d ever given him credit for, and it was undoing the years of resolve you’d cultivated to preserve your friendship.

It didn’t help that he constantly referred to you as ‘his girl’, and any number of tooth-aching pet names. Could he really mean it? You always assumed it was part of some joke you were the butt of, but now…

“George and y/n!” Molly called across the dinner table, breaking you from your thoughts. “Dishes, please!”

Your heart skipped a beat. You and George hadn’t had a moment alone since you’d arrived, and you were eager to soak up some undivided attention.

“Yes, ma’am,” George said cheerfully, rising to start collecting the plates. You hopped up to join him, and everyone else filtered out of the kitchen, arguing about what game to play that evening.

You scrapped while he scrubbed, and fell into easy conversation about the past few days.

“My mum really loves you, y’know,” he said, dunking a plate under the soapy water. “Dad too. He was raving about your thoughts on electric kettles yesterday.”

“I like them a lot too,” you replied, turning to hide your blush while tossing a half-eaten roll in the bin.

“Yeah?” he asked, glancing down at you. “I really hope you’re enjoying yourself. I know I sort of forced you to come, and then you were so anxious. And I know the house is loud and drafty, and the meals are a bit chaotic, and fucking Percy can’t keep his damn eyes to himself—”

Not knowing how else to soothe his worries, you stood on your toes and pressed a kiss into his cheek, derailing his rant into stunned silence.

“I’m really glad you brought me, Georgie,” you said, holding his wide-eyed expression for a moment before reaching for another dish.

He caught your wrist in his soapy hand, turning you back towards him. Your heart leapt into your throat at the intensity of his gaze, his jaw feathering with tension as his eyes searched your face. They were so dark, nearly black from his dilated pupils. His dry hand rose slowly, as if afraid you might startle. He dragged the back of his fingers along your cheek before sliding them into the hair at the nape of your neck.

“Tell me if I’ve misread this,” he murmured, tilting your head up towards him, his lips close enough that you could feel his warm breath across your skin. “Tell me to stop.”

Your heart galloped away, your mind turning to goo as the full scope of his longing came into focus. Heat unspooled through you at the way he angled your head to accommodate his towering frame, in complete control, but giving you every opportunity to stop him.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you gave a small shake of your head. No, please don’t stop.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his nose brushing against yours as he drew you closer. You pressed your body to his, desperate for his solidity, his warmth, as you trembled with anticipation. He guided your hand to rest around his neck, and you dug your fingers into his hair.

“George,” you breathed, his name a plea, a desperate prayer.

He closed the last millimeter of distance, caressing your lips with his, a delicate, wishful kiss. More cautious than you’d ever seen him. You tightened your grip on his hair, rising onto your toes to kiss him back a bit harder.

You felt the tension in his body unwind and his hand grasped your waist, his tongue sliding along your lower lip, teasing, promising, and your bones turned to mush, your lower belly fluttering with excitement.

“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat and you sprang away from George, grabbing a plate as if they hadn’t seen what you were doing. Bill leaned against the doorway, a knowing smirk on his face. “Father has requested that y/n joins him for a cuppa before the chess tourney begins. Something about doorbells?”

“Oh! Of course!” You replied, dropping the dish into the sink and drying your hands on the towel over the stove. “Thanks, Bill!” You hurry past the eldest Weasley son, cheeks absolutely flaming.

You could barely hold a conversation with Arthur, to fixated on the way your body hummed in the wake of his son’s touch. You were eager to finish what you’d started, but by the time you and Arthur emerged from his study, George was wrapped up in a game of Wizard’s Chess with Ron.

George’s eyes tracked you as you moved into the room, perching on an armchair by the fireplace. Bill shook his head, elbowing Charlie, who chuckled into his whiskey.

“Y/n, want to play against me?” Fred asked from his spot on the floor, crisscross in front of a chessboard on the coffee table.

“Sure,” you said, happy for the distraction.

“Losers rotate out until the winners from each table play one another,” Fred explained as you sat across from him. “Percy always wins, but he’s sulking in his room.” Fred winked, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

Quickly, you lose yourself in the game, and it doesn’t take long before you have Fred’s Queen cornered, a path to victory clear. In a final move, you take Fred’s Queen and win the game in ten minutes flat.

“Merlin, she kicked your ass!” Ron shouted, and the room bursts into laughter.

You flushed under the praise and start reorganizing the pieces. Despite yourself, your eyes flicked toward George, but found he was already looking at you, a warmth in his dark eyes that made your hands quit working, and you knocked over the piece you just arranged.

“My turn!” Ginny said, shoving Fred out of the way.

“Anyone need anything from the kitchen?” George asked, rising to his feet after swiftly defeating Harry.

A chorus of no’s rang out, but you’re already absorbed into the game, finding that Ginny was much better at chess than Fred. You started to make your third move, finding an opening, when you felt a calloused hand brush along the side of your neck, sliding beneath your hair to rest heavily against your skin.

“Need anything, love?” George whispered in your ear, and the blood rushed from your head, leaving you vaguely dizzy, eyes sparkling when you blinked up at him.

“N-no, I’m fine. Thank you,” you stuttered.

“A tea would be nice, darling brother!” Ginny said, jerking you back to the present, and the move you forgot entirely.

“Coming right up.” George’s hand squeezed your neck lightly before falling away, and he disappeared into the kitchen.

The rest of the night carried on like that, lingering glances and scalding touches, the heat between the two of you bordering on incendiary.

You were taking a small break from kicking Weasley ass when Percy emerged from his room, leveling a challenging glare at George. “I’ll take next round,” he said, fixing Charlie with a look.

“Fine.” George made his final move, knocking over Charlie’s queen. “Have a seat.”

Charlie vacated the spot, muttering something about ‘fucking dorks’, and Percy sat across from his younger brother. The energy shifted in the room, going from jovial and teasing to almost hostile. Weasley’s were competitive by nature, the twins in particular, but the tension heightened considerably beyond that as they sized each other up.

Piece by piece, they started moving around the board, an even match as far as you could tell. But based on the murmurings of the family, Percy was off his game a bit, and you had a feeling it had something to do with the way his eyes kept drifting back towards you.

Interesting, you thought, rising from your place on the couch to circle their table, feigning curiosity in the game. Percy visibly tensed, his eyes darting from you to the board and back again. George, however, relaxed, his typical cocky demeanor easing back into his body language.

Thanks to your distraction, Percy missed an easy move, giving George the first upper hand of the game. You leaned a bit into Percy’s space, and his hands began to tremble. When you walked away, he compensated for his hesitation with a rash move, exposing his Queen.

You knew George noted it but he opted for a subtler move, then leaned back in his chair to watch Percy squirm, a slight smirk on his face. When Percy realized what he’d done, he flushed with irritation, his shoulders squared and tight.

And for my final move…

You leaned down to George, nearly resting your chin on his shoulder. His spiced cologne greeted you, tinged with the cinnamon punch of the firewhiskey he’d been sipping on throughout the games. “I didn’t know you were so good at Wizard’s Chess,” you murmured, close enough that your lips grazed the shell of his ear.

His smirk grew as Percy fidgeted, unable to pick a move, struggling to not stare down your sweater. “I have many talents you’ve yet to experience,” he replied, voice low enough that only you could hear him. A thrill rushed through you, so you bowed out before you took things too far, leaving George to deal the killing blow.

Shortly after, you won your final match against Bill, who you suspected threw the game in your favor, and suddenly it was you sitting across from George, the whole family crowded around the table, watching with bated breath.

“Hello, darling,” George cooed, smiling.

“Weasley,” you clipped, all business.

His eyes flashed at the challenge, and he took a slow sip of whiskey. “Ladies first,” he said, setting the glass down.

You started him off easy, confident that you had this in the bag. George was smart, but most of his skill came from his ability to disarm, not his ability to play chess. You, as it so happened, were skilled at both.

It didn’t take long for George’s cocky smirk to fall, his brow to knit together with focus as you guided him slowly into a trap of your own design.

His brow suddenly quirked up, the corner of his mouth lifting, you knew you’d been caught.

“Clever girl,” he purred, moving his Rook and collapsing the trap you’d spent ten rounds constructing. “Almost had me,” he taunted, leaning back in his chair. His legs reached all the way across to yours in his languid position, his sock feet tapping absently against the legs of your chair.

You only hummed in response, crossing your legs. While searching the board, you stretched your stocking-covered foot towards him, sliding it along the inside of his calf. His muscles tensed for a moment, his eyes widening a fraction, before he settled down, watching you with heavy-lidded eyes.

You made your move, but didn’t stop dragging your foot up and along his knee, skimming his inner thigh. He sat up a little straighter, narrowing his eyes at the board, and you expected him to make his move, when you feel a hand clasp around your ankle, his touch a brand even through your thick stockings. His eyes lifted to yours, and the hunger in them stole your breath.

You’d never seen your sweet, good-natured friend look so menacing.

“I should know better than to play chess with a Ravenclaw,” he said, making a weak play with a pawn. “Starting to feel like I don’t stand a chance.”

His family laughed, reminding you that you were, in fact, completely surrounded by his parents and siblings, and you dropped your foot. That fucking trickster, he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

“I don’t know,” you said, stealing the pawn and trapping his King. “You’re doing better than I expected for a younger twin.”

A chorus off oooh’s met your dig, and George huffed a laugh before freeing his King. “You’ll regret that,” he warned with a devilish smile.

“And you’ll regret that.” George fell right into your trap. You skirted his King, stealing his Queen right out from under him. His jaw dropped, and the family erupted into cheers.

“We have a new champion!” Molly cheered, hauling you up to celebrate.

You grinned, allowing them to parade you around. George smiled up at you, a real, proud smile, and it made your stomach somersault. Then, the grandfather clock chimed midnight, rattling the house on it’s structure.

“Alright, enough excitement! Everyone off to bed!” Molly ordered. George’s eyes locked on you, gauging what you would do next. For the first time, you cursed sharing a room with Ginny, and cursed Fred for being born.

As everyone grabbed their things and scattered off to bed, George managed to catch you at the second stair landing before Ginny’s room, startling you.

“Well played, feathers,” he said, brushing his fingertips over your forearm as he looks up at you.

“You were a formiddable opponent.” You shivered under his touch, the heat from earlier instantly flaring back to life.

He stepped up a stair, bringing himself a head taller than you, close enough that you could smell the fire whiskey on his lips.

Could I taste it too?

“Goodnight, love.” He pressed a quick kiss to your temple before breezing past you and bounding up the next set of steps to his shared room with Fred.

You leaned against the wall to catch your breath, heart pounding in your chest. This was not the turn you expected this trip to take, but you couldn’t pretend that a part of you hadn’t wished for it. That it wasn’t why you tried so hard to avoid the trip all together.

But now that you and George had crossed that line, you couldn’t imagine what you’d been so afraid of. You only wished you’d done it sooner.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The following morning, you’re one of the last to drift down to the kitchen, having spent most of the night tossing and turning, too worked up to sleep properly. You rounded the corner and come to a stop, surprised to find George alone in the kitchen.

“Morning,” he said with a lazy smile.

“Good morning.” You padded towards him, accepting the coffee cup from his outstretched hand. “How’d you sleep?” you asked, blowing gently on the steaming brew.

“Didn’t,” he said, shifting closer to you. His hair was still a little messy from sleep, or lackthereof, his expression soft and voice gravelly.

“Why not?” You asked, taking a tentative sip before setting the mug down on the counter.

“Couldn’t stop thinking...” He dipped his head towards you, his nose brushing your temple.

“About?” The word came out breathless, the coil of want you'd been battling all night tightening with a vengeance.

“What it would feel like to kiss you again,” he murmured, kicking your heart into overdrive.

“And why don’t you?” Your hand creeped along his t-shirt, feeling the muscles along his abdomen sculpted by years of Quiddtich.

“Gotta set up the pitch. We’re playing this afternoon.” His demeanor shifted, all playful and energetic innocence. “See you out there!” He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, then hurried outside, leaving you wet and bewildered in the overheated kitchen.

An hour later, you were perched precariously on an old broom, knuckles white from gripping it so hard. Ginny rocketed past you with ease, nearly throwing you off balance.

“I think you need a new nickname,” George teased, steadying you. “Feathers may not be apt.”

You risked removing one hand to show him what a real bird looks like, and he barked a laugh before banking away from you.

Soon, the game was in full swing, with you, Ron, Fred, and Charlie against George, Ginny, Harry, and Bill. You had only ever ridden a broom in first year, so you were massively out of your depth.

You were given the role of Seeker, opposite Harry, and had no hope of accomplishing a damn thing. Harry was like lightning on his Firebolt, and you bobbed around like a lame pigeon.

Thankfully, none of them seemed to be taking the game very seriously. You were content to float around the property, occasionally remembering that you we're supposed to be looking for something small and golden.

After awhile the boys started to get rowdier, pushing and shoving and bludgeoning.. You tried to steer clear, watching George whack the hell out of any bludger that dare cross his airspace. You would not want to be on the other end of one of those.

“Y/n, watch out!” Ginny cried.

You looked back from where you were staring off into space, just in time to see George barreling towards you, a bludger about five feet in front of him.

You tried to move, to steer the broom literally anywhere, but it wouldn't cooperate. At the last second you managed to pull up, but not far enough. The bludger hit you square in the stomach, knocking the wind from your lungs and nearly forcing up your breakfast with the power of it. Stars danced behind your eyes, your grip began to slip from the handle as darkness raced towards you.

Something else slammed into you, wrapping itself around you—

“Y/n? Baby, are you alright?” George. You could tell you were moving, but couldn't seem to make your eyes focus, keep your body from trembling. Your cheeks were wet, the breeze frigid against your damp skin. Am I crying?

Then you were on the ground, blessed ground, and then you were up again, cradled against George's chest.

He was shouting at someone you couldn't see. “I swear on fucking Dumbledore, I'm going to beat you bloody with that fucking bat—”

“George!”

“Get her some ice,” he barked at someone else. “I'm right here, love, you're okay. Just try and breathe.”

You clung to his dampening shirt, the shock and pain keeping you teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. You could hear other people talking, but your whole world narrowed to two points: George's heartbeat and the blinding pain radiating from your stomach.

“It hurts,” you whimpered, barely recognizing the pitiful sound of your own voice.

“I know, love. I know. I’ve got you, I promise.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, soft and trembling. A moment later, he laid you on the couch, careful not to jostle you more than necessary.

Molly passed something into George's hands. “For the pain,” she whispered.

George crouched down next to you, holding the edge of the cup to your lips. “Take a sip, sweetheart.” You shook your head, your Potions safety training overpowering your reason. “Please, y/n. Let me take the pain away.”

You took a small sip, the tea pungent and floral, but immediately the edges of the pain began to soften. But the relief was short-lived. Exhaustion followed close behind it, dragging you down into a dreamless sleep.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

When you come to, the Weasley house was dark around you. The only light came from the moon spilling through window panes and the smoldering fire across from the couch.

A light snore drew your attention, and you looked up to see George above you, his head lolled onto the back of the couch, sleeping soundly. Your head was resting in his lap, his sweater piled under your head as pillow, and his large hand was stretched across your stomach, fingers splayed from your ribs to your hip bones.

God, your stomach. You moved to sit up, memories of earlier filtering through the fading grogginess of the Potion Molly gave you, but surprisingly, your stomach was only a little sore. More like an overexerted muscle than rearranged organs and cracked ribs.

George stirred, lifting his head to peer at your through half-closed lids.

“What are you doing down here?” you asked, sweeping a strand of red hair from his brow.

He came fully awake then, straightening. “How do you feel?” He asked, caressing your cheek, then running his hands over your arms, your ribs, the swell of your hips.

“The Potion did its job, I feel mostly fine,” you said, catching his hands to stop their exploration, and the buzzy desire they coaxed to life.

“Are you sure?” His features softened with relief, his fingers twining with yours.

“I'm sure. Thank you for saving me.” You leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, ignoring the slight protest in your abdomen muscles.

“Always,” George said, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “I'm sorry I wasn't close enough to stop it from hitting you in the first place. It happened so fast—”

“Love, it wasn't your fault,” you shushed, reaching out to cup his face and stroking your thumb along his cheekbone.

“I just…” he trailed off, leaning into your palm. “I always want to be there to protect you. Or for whatever you else you might need. Do you need anything now? Water, tea? Are you hungry? You missed dinner—”

“George,” you cut him off. “Right now, I need you.”

Desire eclipsed the worry on his face, his eyes shading. “Are you sure you're not in pain? No fogginess or headaches—”

You leaned in and kissed him, a light, floaty peck, silencing his incessant questioning. You appreciated his concern, but there were other parts of you that needed his attention far more. He immediately took charge of the kiss, shifting his weight to lay you back onto the couch. His body rested heavily between your thighs, his mouth devouring yours in fervent, searing kisses.

His tongue lapped at your bottom lip and you opened for him, allowing him to take everything he sought. He kissed you like he didn't know if he'd get another chance, like he'd been waiting his entire life for this moment. It stole your breath, made your toes curl and your pussy pulse with excitement, slick already collecting between your thighs.

You nipped at his lower lip, earning a soft grunt in appreciation. His hips canted forward a fraction, though it seemed he was holding himself back. His lips traveled along your jaw, down the valley of your throat with teasing licks and love bites and you arched into him, a moan spilling from your lips before you could stop it.

“Shh, baby. You have to be quiet f’me.” George nudged your shirt up with his fingers, kissing along the purplish bruises marring your stomach. “My poor girl.” His thumbs traced the curves of your stomach softly, almost reverent as he gazed up at you. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. so perfect. I’ve wanted to touch you for so long, to feel you beneath me, fuck, hear the pretty little sounds you make for me.” He was rambling now, lost in the act of worshiping your body, his hands and lips traveling gently over your skin.

“How long?” you asked, breathless, raking your fingers through his hair while he nursed a mark just under your right tit.

He looked up at you through is lashes, his lips leaving your skin with a pop. “Since that night at the Three Broomsticks,” he said, shifting upwards so he could look you in the eye.

“The ‘Butterbeer of Forgiveness’?” You mouth fell open, shock rocking through you.

He snickered. “Of course, why do you think I kept sending Fred to the bar?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You ran your fingers over his jaw, feeling the rough stubble against your skin.

“I—” his voice caught, his gaze averting from you. “I loved you too much to risk losing you.”

Elation soared through you, and you couldn’t stop the smile that split your face. “George,” you said, bumping your nose against his. His eyes flicked back to you, watery and rimmed with red. “I love you too.”

His smile was like the first sun after an endless winter, and he kissed you like the first torrential rain of spring. The heat of summer came quickly though, and soon you were gasping for him again, your hips pressing against the hard ridge in his pants.

“Need you,” you whined into his mouth.

“I’m here, love.” He kissed down your throat again, pausing for only a moment to nip at your taught nipples through your shirt before continuing his downward decent. “Lift up for me.” You lifted your hips, allowing him to tug down your jeans, exposing your sodden red panties to his greedy eyes. “Gryffindor red, huh?” he teased, and you threw your arms over your face to hide your blush. “All for me?”

You nodded, your heart in your throat.

“It’s a shame I’ll have to ruin them.’

“What—” Riiiip! The cold air lapped against your slick pussy, chased by the heat of George’s tongue as he dragged it through your folds. “Oh, fuck—”

“Shhh,” he warned, before flicking his tongue against your swollen clit.

You bit down on the back of your wrist to keep from crying out when he switched from licking to sucking, the walls of your cunt fluttering around nothing. He moved down, flattening his tongue against your entrance and collecting the wetness that pooled there. He gave a light hum of pleasure that had your eyes crossing, his tongue delving deeper in search of another taste.

“So fucking good,” he mumbled against you, the vibrations of his low voice making your sensitive clit tingle. You tugged on his hair, encouraging him to pay attention to where you needed him most. “I know, I know.” He pressed a kiss to your clit, teasing you for just a moment longer before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking hard.

You very nearly cried out, having to clap a hand over your mouth to stifle the sound. Pleasure shot through you, singeing your nerves and liquifying your muscles. So quickly you were unraveling for him, going stupid under his ministrations.

A long digit prodded at your entrance, collecting some wetness before easing inside of you. Your cunt welcomed him gladly, clamping down around his finger.

“Merlin, baby. You're so tight,” he panted, shifting to watch you take another one of his fingers, slick already running into his palm. “Relax, love. Shh, “ he soothed, curling his fingers to pet the inside of your walls, making your mind go blank as bliss washed through you. “That's it, darling. Just like that.”

The knot in your stomach began to wind tighter, burning through you as you fought to relax, to be good for him. But your orgasm was so fucking close, just a little more—

His lips found your clit again, sucking in time with your racing heart as his fingers coaxed you open, and the knot severed. Your peak slammed into you, stealing your breath so you couldn't even cry out to warn him, to sing his praises the way he deserved. Your muscles locked, your cunt bearing down as him as pleasure tore through you until you could do nothing but shiver beneath him.

“Shit, y/n. That was fucking beautiful,” he cooed, easing his fingers out of you and lapping up the release coating him to the wrist. “You alright?” He shifted upwards, kissing your bruised abdomen before pecking your lips, your eyes still glassy and unfocused.

“I've never come that hard,” you pant, throwing your arms around his neck and raining kisses over his slick-soaked face. “What the fuck.”

He chuckled, flushing under your attention. “Happy to oblige.”

You caught the last word in your mouth, kissing him deeply, desperately. Your body was already keying itself up again, and by the twitching length against your hip, he was desperate for you too.

He hooked an arm under your back and hauled you up to straddle his lap, his back pressed against the couch. “This okay?” He asked, sliding his rough hands under your shirt to skate along your skin.

You nodded, rolling your hips to drag your bare pussy along the bulge in his jeans, a skitter of pleasure making your breath hitch.

“Fuck, y/n,” he hissed, hips bucking up against you.

“Yes, please fuck me.” You kissed along his jaw and nibbled at his ear lobe, reaching between your bodies to find his zipper.

He did the same, helping you undo the button and tug down the zipper, his cock springing free from his boxers. The head nudged against your clit, hard and heated, and you whimpered.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he lifted you slightly, guiding the head to your dripping entrance. Slowly, he eased you down into him, your pussy more than ready to accommodate his length. A rough groan resounded from his chest, and you silenced it with another kiss. His cock stretched you open, hitting that spongy, sinful spot before sliding deeper until he bottomed out, the head nudging your cervix.

“So fucking tight, baby. Bloody hell,” he whispered, voice strained.

“Feels so fucking good,” you whine, grinding your hips against his.

George buried his face into your neck, stifling a moan. His grip loosened, allowing you to start lifting and lowering yourself, riding him slowly, savoring every inch of his cock as it dragged through you.

“M’not gonna last long if you keep doing that,” he warned, mouthing at your neck with sloppy kisses.

You smirked, bracing your hands against the back of the couch to pick up the pace, your thighs and abs burning from the exertion. But he felt so fucking good, stretching you open, the root of his cock dragging along your clit.

His lifted up again only to snap his hips against yours, his hands a vice on your waist as he started pounding into you from below.

“Oh, fuck, Georgie—”

“Quiet, love. You don't want the whole house to hear how good I make you feel, do you?”

You nodded, a whine escaping through your teeth. One of his hands came up to cover your mouth, silencing the sound and infringing on your air supply, callouses rubbing against your kiss-swollen skin.

“I’d love nothing more than for Percy to hear you screaming for me, but this is just for us,” he whispered, breathless as he fucked into you. “Gonna come for me again?”

Your fingers dug into the couch, another peak racing towards you. You bounced with his movements, desperately chasing your high, the ache in your abdomen long forgotten.

“That's it, love. Fuck, m’gonna come.” He threw his head back, a strangled groan accompanying the kick of his cock inside you, stretching your further before pumping you full of his release.

The hot surge of his orgasm sent you flying over the edge, ecstasy pulling your under while your cunt milked him dry with vicious pulls. You muffled your cry into his shoulder as he fucked you through it, until you both collapsed onto the couch, thoroughly spent and panting.

His lips found your forehead, your temple, his hands gliding along your spine, over your hips, soothing you as you trembled against him.

“I love you,” he breathed into your hair. “I can't believe you're here with me.”

You grazed the racing pulse under his jaw with your nose. “I love you, too.” It was exhilarating to say, almost as thrilling as the orgasm you just shared, a massive weight was lifted off your shoulders.

“So, can I call you my girl without being corrected now?” He teased, tickling your ribs.

“I suppose.” You giggled, pecking the corner of his smirk.

The following morning, you descended from your room to find George at the bottom of the stairs, shirtless, twirling his Beater Bat in his right hand. The same hand that brought you the most earth shattering orgasm of your life.

“What on earth are you doing?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his middle and kissing his cheek, admiring the violet mark you left above his clavicle.

“Waiting for Ron,” Fred supplied from the kitchen.

“Who’s waiting for me—oh fuck.” Ron stopped dead at the top of the stairs, still dressed in his pajamas, staring wide eyed at George, or more specifically, the bat in his hand.

“I just want to talk,” George said, gently moving you aside before prowling up the stairs towards his younger brother.

Ron took off up the stairs, their steps thundering through the house as George gave chase.

“George! Shit,” you huffed, glancing at the rest of the family who'd come to see what the fuss was about.

“I'll let ‘im get a good whack in,” Molly said, smiling at you. “Since you're his girl and all.”

Your cheeks flamed, but they only met you with warm hugs and laughter, like they'd been expecting this from the beginning.

Crack!

“Ow!”

"That's for hurting my girl, you git."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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[bbokicidal]

"What Happens When..." | [SKZ] OT8 | [BANGCHAN]

The members get to witness just how proportionate and thick their leader really is.

Genre: Smut [18+ MDNI] Pairing: Bangchan x Fem!Reader Warnings: Penetrative sex (vaginal), all of the other members watching y'all have sex, exhibitionism/voyeurism, teasing, groping (male & female), little bit of mxm if you squint really hard

Notes: This IS a short fic and isn't anything really long. There's no plot - it's purely smut for your viewing pleasure and my mental peace, lol.

Word Count: 1.2K

Divider by @enchanthings

Bangchan | Lino | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | I.N

"There we go, angel." Your boyfriend's voice was soft; Whispering sweet nothings down into the space between your bodies as he sunk into your pink, gummy sweet walls. With his hands placed on your hips, squeezing in adoration any time you let a sound escape, Chan had made sure you were perfectly comfortable before any of this happened - And though he partially doubted your quick pleas for him to fuck you and how you whispered you were totally fine, he had to trust that you really were already with laying splayed out on the coffee table for everyone to see. "Tell me if you need anything, yeah?"

"Never seen anything like that, huh, Innie?"

Minho's hand had wrapped into Jeongin's hair, elbow resting on his shoulder and fingers holding the youngest's bangs back from his eyes so he could see just how perfect their leader's cock split you open; Though he really couldn't justify looking away or letting his hair get in the way when he was standing directly beside where Chan knelt on the carpet. The youngest hadn't blinked in at least twenty seconds, dark eyes wide and curious - captivated at the sight of your puffy pussy gushing around Chan's length every time he pushed in just a little further.

Hyunjin had approached from Jeongin's opposite side, leaning against him with a playful grin as his teeth sunk into his lower lip. "It doesn't get much better than this, ayen-ah. This is what you're missing out on, saving it for marriage 'n all that."

Jeongin was actually starting to rethink that. He had seen your lashes flutter; watched as your eyes peeked open just to glance at him after hearing the three - well, two - talking about you as if you weren't right there. His own gaze had darted up your body, flickering between your most intimate parts and your eyes as if unsure where to look. What if he missed something important? He wasn't sure what was more beautiful - your expressions or the glistening slick dripping from between your legs.

Seungmin was well aware of what he considered the most gorgeous. His eyes simply hadn't left your face the entire time he'd been sat there. Previously sat stiff and arms crossed over his chest, he'd begun to lounge back a few minutes prior - the moment their leader had finally started prodding at your folds with the heavy, ruddy tip of his cock. With his arms resting against the chair and his thighs parted to give himself room in his jeans, his fingertip had begun to swipe back and forth over parted lips, analyzing every reaction you let them see so openly. He could really care less about watching the fucking happen; He just loved seeing the raw emotion. The desperation in your eyes.

"Look," Came a softer tone, falling out of Jisung's lips and catching almost everyone's attention. He was shaky, cheeks and ears a beet red and his chest probably matching the color his throat had taken on. But despite his shaking, a sign of his anxiety spiking, he seemed to be enjoying himself as he subtly shifted back and forth atop his best friend's thighs. He couldn't make it too known he was rock hard after all. Each gaze from the others falls to the rapper than over towards your body where he had lifted a hand to point.

Everyone could see it whether they were right there or sitting off to the side; The soft, heavy bulge that prodded along your tummy each time Chan's cock slipped fully inside of your walls. You seemed well aware of it, though it was really nothing new to you; But to them? Well...

"Holy shit." Felix's hands tighten their hold on Jisung's sweater, his hands kneading and plucking at the fabric prior to having to physically halt his actions so he could focus on watching everything happening in front of him. He swallowed hard, his eyes flickering back and forth between your body and it's gentle sway against the coffee table each time their leader pushed into you and Chan's heavy form looming over your own, hands planted on the table to keep himself steady by then. And while Jisung, currently planted in Felix's lap, couldn't bring himself to look at Chan out of fear of never seeing him the same - Felix was more than willing to stare at both of the beautiful entities in the room with them.

With your eyes slipping open to get a glance at who all was around you, your find yourself met with a sudden shadow hovering over your upper body. The looming figure makes you peek up, head tipping back to see who it is; But the first view you're greeted by is a heavy, thick bulge in the jeans of whoever is lurking near your face. And with no thoughts in your pretty little head, you lift a hand to blindly grope at the cock straining against the black denim.

"Mnh-" Changbin's voice gravels in his throat, both hands leaving his pocket so he can gently take ahold of your wrist and stop you from continuing to feel over him - as much as he loves it, "Now isn't the time, pretty."

But he makes it up to you as you let out a soft whine in complaint, bending down to press a kiss to your palm and let you feel over the warmth of his cheek before he pulls away. His body rounds the coffee table, steps slow and deliberate, until he's standing to your right; And he can't help but take notice of the way your eyes drag over every movement he makes. How you won't look away from him, like you want him closer - to let you touch him again.

Your eyes only jerk away from his body as something touches you - no, not something; someone. A hand sliding over your hip, up to your lower abdomen until it was pressing down gently on the bulge that prodded at you every time your boyfriend pushed deeper. The painted nails gave it away, your eyes following the arm to the shoulder and up the man's neck; Hyunjin's giggly and sultry smile bliss to your lingering gaze. He sighed out as he pushed down just a bit harder, your sounds only increasing in volume at the added pressure.

Minho's eyes, only leaving your body this one time since the 'event' had started, drag to the youngest he still clings to. Jeongin looked starstruck, eyes sparkling and lips parted as he sucked in each breath. "Maybe if you ask really nicely," he coos, "our precious leader might let you have a turn."

Jeongin bristles at the suggestion - a strike of hope hitting him right in the chest before it begins to prickle and curl as reality overtakes his cloudy mind. He couldn't have sex with you; He was waiting for marriage and you were his Hyung's girlfriend anyway.

"You're barking up the wrong tree, Minho." Chan bites suddenly, a few of the members letting their eyes redirect to him instead. He huffs out a breath or two, every vein in his neck fighting to push against his skin when he turns his head. "As much as - God - I love sharing with you guys," he sighs every word, refusing to stop snapping his hips against your own as if accentuating his point, "This is mine."

Tag List : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie @inlovewithstraykids @seungminsbest @edit-me-prettyplease @butterflydemons @satosugu4l