#no! no i very much did not. and now it's becoming more enticing to just let it happen

[lulublack90]

Prompt 6 - First Full Moon

@wolfstarmicrofic January 6, word count 665

Tonight was the night. The night he’d been dreaming of since he found out Remus was a werewolf. He’d spent hours researching how to become an animagus, roping James and Peter in to help. They’d been just as excited as he was to be able to do this for their friend. Remus had been coming back to the castle with more and more injuries since he hit puberty and Sirius wanted to do all that he could to ease Remus’s pain. 

It had taken months to be able to change into an animal at will. He was rather proud of his animal form. An enormous shaggy, black dog. He was sure he looked almost like a werewolf in this form, so he would match Remus perfectly.

They’d gathered in the Shrieking Shack, Remus having told them how to get in. Thank Merlin, that Peter was a small enough animal that he could easily get under the Whomping Willow’s flailing branches to press the knot at the base of its roots and render the damn thing motionless. 

A creak downstairs told them that Remus and Madam Pomfrey had entered the derelict building and that they needed to keep completely silent until they were sure she was gone.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Remus dear,” She said kindly before they heard the sound of the metal bolt on the other side of the door being slid across, the quiet mutterings of her spells to lock Remus in and then nothing.

Remus appeared in the doorway of the bedroom they were hiding in and Sirius raced across the room, slamming into him in his haste for a hug.

“You ready?” He asked once he’d righted himself.

“I think so,” Remus replied, sounding nervous. All of Sirius’s research was based on theory. There was no definite proof that in animal form they’d be safe from the werewolf. Remus had been reluctant, but eventually, he gave in as he usually did where Sirius was concerned. So here they were, waiting for the moon to rise.

It wasn’t long before Remus’s winces and low grunts became more pronounced as the pain of transformation began to overtake him. He fell to the floor on his hands and knees, his back arching as he whimpered. The others took this as their cue to change.

The room was suddenly very full, what with Sirius’s large size and James’s antler span. But all Sirius cared about was his best friend now writhing on the dusty ground, his body twisting and shaking. 

He moved forward, nuzzling his nose against Remus’s side. A clawed hand swung out, barely missing him as he jumped back. Remus let out a low snarl that no human should be able to make and that's when the cracking started as his bones broke and reformed, revealing the beast within. 

Sirius sat back on his haunches as he watched his dear friends be completely destroyed, slowly turning into the animal he’d hated since he was five years old.

With a final roar, Remus was gone and in his place towered the wolf. His silver-grey fur glinted in the patches of moonlight creeping in through slits in the boarded-up windows. Sirius stared at him through his canine eyes and realised that he looked nothing like this majestic beast. He would have been jealous if his canine brain allowed such emotions. 

Remus moved nearer to him, sniffing the surrounding air. This was it. The moment of truth. In the next thirty seconds, they’d find out if Sirius’s theory was correct or if they were about to be torn to shreds.

Remus’s wet wolf nose touched Sirius’s wet dog nose, and he knew right there that they would be fine. He barked happily at the wolf, jumping around him playfully, nipping at his legs, enticing him to play.

The next morning, for the first time in ten years, Remus woke up without a single cut, scratch or bruise, much to the amazement of Madam Pomfrey.

[dykethang]

i need more bipolar vibes songs. Honestly. like yeah there's bipolar baby! by ftsk but like. there needs to be fucking more. i can't just listen to this song and maps by tfb and get better by frank turner on repeat. unfeasible.

[lilacxquartz]

Can you write a homicipher fic with Mr crawling where Mc is deep cleaning their apartment and he's confused on what exactly they're doing and just like doing domestic stuff? Thank you!💜💜💜

in an attempt to clean;

mr. crawling x reader/mc

plot: you do all sorts of curious things but mr. crawling still can’t quite understand some behaviours — a/n: i hooope this is what you wanted!! like my mind ran with mr. crawling perhaps being sentimental about the stuff you cleaned up, so i went with it, aha, mc is in the real world here and mr. crawling is like, a live-in guard ghost — themes: gn!reader, domestic fluff, character study — w.c: 1.1k • ao3 • masterlist ✮⋆˙

Even if he didn’t quite understand the order of the world that you came from, Mr. Crawling still tried his very best to adapt to you and your way of living. He was perfectly happy just living in your home and existing within your space, finding every nook and cranny to be deeply fascinating. Every other surface had a hint of your scent, with other places, like the bedroom, signaling your once lingering presence—like a signature.

He traced around the areas where such things were left behind, from empty bowls from where you had breakfast to where your dirty laundry was thrown off to the side after a long day. This often led you to pause and tilt your head at such odd behaviour, but you also didn’t quite mind. He did many odd things, after all, such as hovering around in the corners of your home, watching you from a distance while you worked on… whatever it was that needed doing.

Had this been any other situation, you would have probably tried to flush him away with the help of a local shaman, but it was all fine. You brought him back with you for a reason. He wasn’t malicious at all, at least not to you. If anything, he was a little like a guard ghost—determined to keep you safe—no matter what.

However, at some point, too much of your ‘presence’ was left behind and you had to talk yourself into committing to a deep clean. You had admittedly put it off for his sake, finding his almost, enticed state of wonder to be endearing, but a clean space meant a clean mind, or however the saying went.

And things had to go.

At a glance, the apartment was a complete mess. Dust clung to the walls and tables, and there were dirty socks in every other direction. Trash was also becoming something of a problem and for it to not get any worse than it already was—something had to be done—before it was past the point of no return.

Just as you were about to dive in towards fulfilling your task, however, you felt Mr. Crawling’s presence materialise right behind you like a sudden, looming shadow and sure enough, when you turned around, he was right behind you. He was now Mr. Standing more like, you internally tutted, given that he no longer took the liberty to pad around on his hands and knees anymore, instead filling out the whole stretch of room. From the floor to the ceiling, he made himself known.

“What… you… doing?” he asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion. He had his finger pointed towards the bin bag in your hand, seeming almost alarmed.

“Cleaning…?” you replied, demonstrating taking some trash from the coffee table and dropping it into the bag. As you did so, his hand flinched away and he seemed rather upset.

“Object… away?” he asked.

“Yes,” you nodded, quickly filling up the bag with more and more pieces of trash that were otherwise littering the surfaces, all the while he seemed to twitch at the very sight, as if he wanted for you to stop but wasn’t sure how to ask you of such a thing.

And before you could continue on your spree any further, Mr. Crawling took a step forward, confiscating an empty crisps packet right from your hands. In turn, you raised an eyebrow, jumping up to grab it from him, but he kept it purposefully out of your reach.

“Give it back,” you huffed, unsure what exactly has gotten into him.

“No,” he shook his head, his tone sounding rather petulant, “I keep.”

You blinked a couple of times, sounding exasperated. “W-why?”

“Treasure,” Mr. Crawling could only reply, clutching the piece of trash to his chest like it was the most sacred item.

You withdrew a deep sigh. Of course, Mr. Crawling had gained some sort of attachment from the things he saw you use. It was actually sort of oddly sweet if it didn’t have the possibility of attracting bugs and potentially growing mould.

“I’m not throwing everything away,” you tried to reason, gesturing at what got put into drawers and what didn’t, “just the trash, the…” you trailed off, trying to find an appropriate word that you both knew, “the dirt.”

Mr. Crawling hesitated, looking at the crisp packet in his hands. “D-dirt… bad?”

Finally, it clicked. At last! You were finally getting somewhere. Oh, how you loved to see him understand you. It was so rewarding, but also, you almost felt bad at just how upset he sounded, but it had to go. “Yes, very bad. Dirt makes… people… sick,” you tried to charade out next, performing a show of you clutching your stomach and looking nauseous.

“Sick?” he asked, trying to understand before looking even more alarmed than when he had first seen you pick up the trash to begin with. “Sick, bad! Sick, bad!”

Before you could respond however, he was in the process of obliterating that poor crisp packet into nothingness, so you warily had to approach him, pluck it right out of his wary hands, and mime out the rest of your intent. When you took hold of the package, you feigned sickness, and then when it entered the bag, you acted right as rain again. All healthy while looking very much alive.

At first, he was horrified at your display but then seemed to get the memo, glancing around at what could potentially make you sick and what was fine to hold onto and so, over the course of the next hour, you slowly but surely got through a deep cleaning session while he kept bringing you all sorts of objects—perhaps missing the memo as to what counted as clean and what counted as dirty—but at least you were finally, actually getting somewhere.

Things like broken mugs were brought to you, along with more empty packets and forgotten socks alike. Some things he was much more defensive about throwing away, but you let him keep the stuff that you were certain wouldn’t actually bring strange things into your home, like that torn and tatted baggy hoodie you had—he refused to let that one go.

“Why do you want to even… keep that?” you asked, watching him cosy up to the piece of clothing.

“Smells… you,” he gleefully replied, taking a deep whiff of the fabric before towering over you, repeating the motion against the crook of your neck, “smells… good.”

“Ah,” you smiled a little, not protesting a single bit, “yeah, you can keep that.”

You supposed that life with Mr. Crawling, after all this time, was still a messy sort of affair, but that much was fine. It was moments like these that made it all worthwhile, reminding you of why you wanted him to stay in the first place.

Even if it did mean that things took forever to get done now.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Hybrid Town (3) | Only Human

Part One, Two

Before your fateful encounter that led to the attention of your loyal canine neighbors and the adoring affection of cow-woman- Eudora you were left to your own devices. Managing your own chores and the sprucing up of your newly inherited property. But it’s exhausting working day in and out on such a big project; it’s a given that you search for something else to do. Something to keep the loneliness at bay as you endure the sneers and snickers from the townspeople. Specifically found in one of the most abandoned spots of the whole town the library. 

Ring Ring

“Hello is anyone in here?....Well if you are I’m just going to find what I need and check it out at the desk!”

Typically this would seem presumptuous for anyone to do but you had a sneaking suspicion your human status might have something to do with the missing librarian. Nonetheless, you did what you said grabbing a small amount and writing on the ledger conveniently left on the desk. Filling it out hoping that whoever was responsible for the neatly kept interior within the run-down library would realize you’d taken the initiative to borrow. Unbeknownst to you igniting a chain reaction for those who bear witness.

“Did they…take a book?”

“T-t-they took four!”

“Oh, goodness!?”

Now there were quite a few curious souls that looked at you without contempt as they spied on you flipping through your latest borrows as you made your way to your car but none as eager as the librarian himself. It wasn’t bizarre that someone would come into the library to borrow a book…what was odd was that a newcomer had come for it and had full intentions to return.

“I-it’’s them!?? They’re coming back!”

“Eeek I’ll have to hide!”

Ring Ring

“If anyone’s here I’ll just do what I did last time.” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see some kind of appendage but when you turn to follow you find nothing but another row of books. Still oblivious to the hybrid practically gone into heat at the close encounter, they watch you leave once again.

“They nearly saw my tail!”

“T-that has to mean s-s-something good, right?”

 The few citizens of the town who frequented the library considered themselves to be of a different variety than the plebians rest of the town. A more enlightened group that relied on their vast collection of books to inform their decisions. All led by the very man given the honor to run the library.

“All rise for the great Stein!”

“Rest your heads, my enlightened followers a great happening has come upon us and I have our next course of action.”

By day the librarian was the soft-spoken, always flustered snake hybrid—Stein. Hired by the mayor to watch over the library in a building slowly violating the regulations of the up-to-code buildings surrounding it. It was the perfect place for the alarming presence of a snake hybrid feared for their notorious predatory instinct. Hidden, secluded, and generally avoided by the greater part of the town. Even those with a predator heritage were wary of the reptilian hybrid that is if they didn’t know him for the timid, stuttering librarian he appeared to be is.

“I-i-i’m the librarian w-w-w-what do you need help with?”

“Wow happy to finally meet you this time! Anyway I was wondering if you had the sequel to this book? I tried looking for it but I just can’t seem to find it.”

“T-t-t-that’s f-f-f-fine come with me.”

By night, Stein would become the leader that the minority of the town gathered around. Eagerly awaiting his knowledgable word. On an unrelated note, the town’s collection of books has a larger collection of the fictional genre influencing those curious enough to explore. With so much information they only found it right to turn to the hybrid tasked with understanding it all, seeing as no one other than Stein had attempted to learn from the non-fiction section…that is until you.

“My lord what does this mean!?”

“Shall we stake them?!”

“Ritualize them?!”

“Entice them to join!?

“Enlightened, please! Quiet your questions for I have the answer to all of them. The human is our Excalibur!”

Gasps fill the library basement.

“Can this be?”

“As the legend foretells whosoever should hold Excalibur shall hold the keys to the kingdom!” 

“That must be you our great lord Stein! You are the Arthur!”

“I should hope so.” 

“With this knowledge, we can work together to bring Excalibur to you!”

“But we must be cautious! The others of the round table before they become friends will be enemies!” 

“We must begin planning immediately!”

Stein isn’t delusional or an idiot or easily swayed by any means. He’s well aware that the stories of Welsh folklore are obviously not real at least not in this time. He went to school, a private school that accelerated his learning and then he went to a university where he proceeded to get his doctorate. But the bored and uninspired superstitious minority of the town did not. If that wasn’t enough to convince these other hybrids to follow, the fact that his particular origins were that of the venomous Black Mamba with a mix of Boa Constrictor. They were right to be afraid he happened to have both killer traits of his feared parents, it’s a given many insolent prey will rationalize that the one they fear the most must know the truth.

“(Y-y/n) good to see you, checking out the prequels?”

“You know it. I also wanted to know if you had recommendations for building doggy doors?”

“...I might have something…are you thinking of getting a dog?”

“Not necessarily but I’ve got a hole in my door and I think if I try and fix it it’ll just keep happening.”

“Say it! Ask my lord!”

“What was that?”

“I-i-uh I’m not very good with fixing things b-b-but if you like I could take a look…if you like?”

“That’s real sweet of you Stein, I appreciate that!” 

“The steps to procuring Excalibur commences!”

“Shh!”

He figures if he’s happening to start a cult, he might as well get help in his love-life. It might have been foolish to proclaim a poor outcast human the most prized object that this collective could agree upon but knowing the lengths his followers would go to he’d rather you be something adored than hated. Especially since the control he had on the collective wasn’t as straightforward as he had hoped.

“See my lord we’ve brought you the enemy!”

“Mmmffff.”

“Oh my.”

“It will be your first of many meals—I mean sacrifices in your pursuit of the grand Excalibur.”

“I–yes that is the plan.”

“Now eat! This is just fodder for the great Stein! Oh the grand ruler you’ll be!”

“EAT!” “EAT!” “EAT!” “EAT!”

Stein swallows a tired sigh, ‘a wolf hybrid is gonna be so fattening.’

“For your information my lord, he broke the wheels of Excalibur’s wagon–forcing them to buy their overpriced replacements.”

“...I’ll need salt.”

“Yes, my lord!”

When he’s not playing up to the dastardly cult leader he gets to be at night he’s all so shy. It’s hard trying to connect with the human he’s got such a big crush on especially since their outcasted status was beginning to change. Unknowingly harming him, his collective was being much nicer—complimenting you and standing up for you when you have encounters with human-hating citizens. He’s happy for you but he curses the loss he used to have with speaking to you. Now instead of his well-planned bump-ins with you on the way to the market he’ll have to spend more of his evening following far behind. And that’s when your neighbors and roommate aren’t getting in the way

“Don’t argue with me, Mutt I know you did that on purpose!”

“Please, no one told you to where those dumb shoes to a market day!”

“Yeah well appearance is every–”

“...” “...”

“Mutt go get (Y/n), I smell danger.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

It’s so shattering for him to constantly be overshadowed by every interested citizen in town. It’s almost enough to make him give up hope but the remaining thing that ties him to you is his saving grace. 

“W-what if we made a book-club, you and I?”

“I don’t think anyone would want to join. Not with me in it…”

“Mmm–”

“But I’d love to talk about books with you! Over drinks or at my house if that’s better!”

“T-t-t-that’s perfect!”

If he could get past his fears he’s sure he’d be a force to be reckoned with but he’d much rather go the way he’s going now. He often receives letters about how his mother kept his father close to the nest at the beginning of their relationship. And since she seems to believe he can do even better with a mere human, he’d love if it was all organic minus the cults help.

“I feel like I'm on fire knowing such a holy existence is so close to me. I’m going to take full advantage of this. You are just a human it might be better that it’s me you end up with, especially in this town.”

Part 4: Coming Soon

Taglist: @midnight-nightmares@xrenka@candlesworlds-blog@00hellohello00@lem-hhn @kawaii-cakes @ceramic-raven @lilyalone @asleepysouluniverse @mel-vaz @sxftiebee @staarflowerr @horror-lover-69 @stanfordswifey @butratherbutrather

[captainmalewriter]

Miss Pigwin's Journal

Among the myriad of stereotypes surrounding gay men, Ivan never really fit into any of them. He was never the flamboyant queen nor the circuit party gay. Ivan always considered himself to be more of a lone wolf type. Although many would find the life of a social hermit boring and exhausting, Ivan truly didn’t mind his quiet, solitary lifestyle. Just class, work, gym, rinse and repeat. It was a simple routine, but it was one that Ivan loved. 

One evening, after his engineering classes, Ivan made a quick pit stop at the local store before heading back to his apartment. He needed to buy a new journal after he had filled out the last page the night before. Journaling was a hobby that Ivan took very seriously. For the past five or so years, Ivan would take 10 minutes every night to write his complete, unfiltered thoughts in his journal before bed. It was a therapeutic practice for Ivan, and he did not plan to stop anytime soon. 

Ivan was hoping to find a stylish yet relatively cheap journal but was quickly met with disappointment instead as he made his way down the stationary aisle. The store had completely run out of notebooks! A nearby employee told Ivan that the overnight crew would restock the store and that he should return the next day, but he was too determined to give up after having gone through the trouble of walking to the store. He scoured the store until he finally found one misplaced notebook, although its gaudy design left much to be desired…

It was a bright pink journal with glimmering sequins and came with a large bundle of pink ribbon. The journal had an ugly cartoon drawing of a pig in a princess dress along with her name ‘Miss Pigwin’ written in glitter across the top of the cover page. Ivan pulled out his phone and did a quick internet search to find out more about the Miss Pigwin notebook. Apparently, it was limited edition merchandise for some obscure children’s cartoon that never made it past 5 episodes. The idea behind Miss Pigwin was that kids could better understand their pets by helping them communicate with them. Kids were tie a piece of ribbon around an animal, and with Miss Pigwin's help, they would become their best friends. At least that was what the old advertisements promised anyway.

Obviously, the designers meant it to be used for pets like dogs and cats, so it was no wonder the pink journal was quickly discontinued after kids tried to tie ribbons around dangerous, wild animals instead. All in all, it was just cheap scraps of overly decorated paper for imaginative little girls. 

Ivan didn’t care much for the girly pink notebook. However, it was still a notebook at the end of the day, and the $5 price tag was too enticing to give up. He bought it and promptly returned to his apartment where his roommate Jesse was hosting a few of his frat friends over for beer pong. 

Ivan and Jesse were not friends but they were civil enough as roommates. Jesse wasn’t officially a part of a frat yet, but he already had the wild personality of a frat brother anyway. Jesse’s constant partying and drinking was annoying to Ivan, so he often made himself scarce—  as he did that night. He went about his usual nighttime routine and thankfully, by the time he sat down at his desk to journal, all of Jesse’s guests were gone. But just before he could touch pen to paper, Jesse came stumbling into the room.

“Hey, bro, you got any ribbon or string by any chance?” Jesse asked. Ivan hesitated saying yes right away.

“Maybe, what for?” 

“There’s this stupid Tiktok trend going on right now. Dudes are tying a piece of ribbon around their bicep and flexing until it breaks. The bros are saying I need to do every trend I see if I wanna continue rushing.”

“Cool, makes sense. Here, you can have it all. I don’t need it.”

Ivan took the bundle of ribbon that came with the Miss Pigwin journal and helped Jesse tie a piece around his bicep. Although Ivan did not like Jesse in that way, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit excited as he wrapped the ribbon around his straight roommate’s muscular arm. It was probably the only time he’d be that close to Jesse, so he relished in the moment as much as he could. Once it was tied, Jesse thanked him and left the room to record his Tiktok. Meanwhile, Ivan returned to his journal and began writing. 

March 12th - I am soo fucking h*rny. Sometimes, I wish my roommate would give in to his secret desires and just makeout with me already. 

Just as Ivan finished writing the last letter, a terrifying scream coming from the living room interrupted his journaling session. He quickly ran out with the pink journal in hand and saw Jesse straining himself to break the ribbon. No matter how hard he flexed, the pink ribbon stayed firmly wrapped around his bicep.

Although Ivan was worried about the pink ribbon constricting Jesse's arm, he couldn't help but stare at the massive bulge in his roommate's gray sweatpants. It was huge! Was Jesse hard? Ivan always had a feeling that his straight roommate was packing some serious heat downstairs, but he would've never guessed he'd be that big and thick! Just seeing his bulge was enough to make Ivan's jaw drop!

"Dude is this ribbon made out of fucking titanium or some shit! Where the fuck did you even get this!?" Jesse yelled out in anguish. It was enough to bring Ivan back down to Earth.

"I don't know! It came free with this weird notebook I found."

"Whatever!! Just go get the scissors! This shit's way too tight, my arm's starting to go numb!"

"Right! Hang on, I'll be right back!"

Uh oh!!

Just as Ivan turned around to go get the scissors, a sudden high-pitched voice made him stop dead in his tracks. It was a girl's voice, and it was coming from the notebook in his hands. Ivan looked down and froze from what he saw. The cartoon princess pig had come to life!

Uh oh!! It looks like our new friend isn't being a very good listener! Let's play some music to help clear his mind!

Miss Pigwin began singing a melody while soft piano music played. The music had no effect on Ivan, but it did on Jesse. Jesse suddenly stopped fighting and just laid flat on the floor. Within seconds, he had gone from a pissed off jock trying to rip the ribbon off his arm to eerily calm and relaxed. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled heavily. Jesse had a dazed look in his eyes once he opened them. He had a dull, almost sleepy-like expression plastered on his face too. It was like he was sedated by simply listening to Miss Pigwin's song! Only once Jesse was fully relaxed did Miss Pigwin finally stop the music.

Yayyy!! No more distracting thoughts! Now what did our best friend tell us?

Ivan watched in awe as Jesse got up from the ground while massaging his protruding bulge. His movements were almost mechanical, like a mindless robot following orders. He then began walking towards Ivan while reciting what Ivan had written inside the Miss Pigwin journal.

"I'm soo h*rny... I just wanna make out with my roommate. I'm soo h*rny... I just wanna make out with my roommate. I'm soo h*rny... I just wanna make out with my roommate."

It was incredible. Despite having never read it, Jesse kept repeating what Ivan had written over and over like a personal mantra!

Once Jesse closed the gap between them, Ivan got a good look how dilated his pupils were. It was quite the sight to see, though Jesse didn't give Ivan any time to react. Instead, he quickly joined his lips with Ivan's and kissed him roughly. Ivan was caught off guard by the surprise kiss but quickly matched Jesse's energy as the two kissed like it was their last night being alive. Ivan could hardly believe it. He had gone from merely tolerating his roommate's existence to making out with him in the same night! He felt himself light up with joy and pleasure as Jesse's hairy chest pressed against his with every kiss.

They continued at it for a while, locking lips until they gradually moved towards the couch. From there, they both discarded any remaining clothes they had on. Ivan hopped into Jesse's strong arms and went in for another deep kiss. He was shuddering with anticipation as he felt Jesse's rock hard boner tap against his butt. Luckily for him, it didn't take them much longer until they decided to get into position. Ivan spit onto Jesse's cock to lube it up, then guided it into his hole. A deep, sensual moan escaped his mouth as Jesse slowly thrusted his hips into him. Inch by inch, his dick disappeared into his ass. The room then filled with the sounds of men grunting and heavy, cum-filled balls clapping against Ivan's cheeks. Ivan was in heaven, while Jesse was in a trance with only one thought in his mind. Give into his desires, and makeout with his roommate.

Ivan woke up the next morning feeling like a brand new man after the amazing pounding he had received from Jesse. To say he was in a state of bliss would be a massive understatement! Even just remembering the feeling of Jesse's massive cock inside of him was enough to make Ivan smile with delight. But his grin quickly faded when he reached out for the Miss Pigwin journal and found it wasn't where he had left it before falling asleep. Even worse, he found a piece of pink ribbon had been tied around his wrist while he was sleeping.

"No... Nononono NOO!!"

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty! Looking for something?"

To Ivan's horror, Jesse was holding the Miss Pigwin journal and he looked furious! Although, despite the present danger, Ivan couldn't help but notice that Jesse still had the same ribbon tied around his bicep.

"Hey man... Let's put down the journal, and have a civilized conversation between adults. I promise it's not what it looks like, just let me ex-"

"Nahh FUCK that. I'm glad I woke up just before you did, otherwise I would've never found out what the fuck you did to me with this weird journal. You always gave me weird vibes but this? I... I don't even know where to start I'm so MAD!"

Jesse slammed a fist against the wall, startling Ivan. He then let out a maniacal chuckle as he pulled out a pen and opened the journal.

"Alright, Ivan, you wanna fuck up my mind so badly? Two can play at that game!"

Loud scribbling filled the room. Once he finished, Jesse read out loud what he wrote.

"Ivan's too serious for his own good. He needs to lighten up and join my frat so we can become best bros forever!!"

"...That's stupid. I'm not gonna do that."

"Are you sure?"

Uh oh!!

"I think Miss Pigwin might disagree with-"

Ivan smacked the book out of Jesse's hands, catching him off guard. The journal landed against the wall with a loud thud. Ivan wasted no time making a break for the journal. He bought himself a few seconds by smacking it away from Jesse. Those few seconds were all he needed to open the journal to a new page and write something down. In the heat of the moment, he could only think of one thing to write.

"Jesse's gay 4 me!"

"YOU FUCKER! ERASE THAT SHIT RIGHT NOW!!"

Jesse grabbed the journal but Ivan had a tight grip on it. The two slammed into the nearby walls and furniture as they tried to wrestle it out of the other's hands. The Miss Pigwin journal was getting torn and crumpled up in the crossfire of their fight, but that didn't stop the princess from carrying out her sole purpose.

It looks- New friend- Good listener! Let's- Some music- clear his mind!

Miss Pigwin began singing her soothing song, forcing both men into a hypnotic trance as they listened. They both fell to the ground screaming as the pink ribbons grew tighter around their bodies. They tried plugging their ears with their fingers, but it was already too late. The second they heard the first few notes of her song, Miss Pigwin was already deep within subconscious- ready to broadcast whatever was written in the journal directly into their brains. However, because the journal had gotten destroyed during the fight, Miss Pigwin's subliminal messaging turned out to be incredibly potent than usual.

Ivan fell back against the ground in a daze. He couldn't believe how discombobulated he was. It was like he was trapped underwater as he felt his mind beginning to clear of any and all thoughts. Ivan let out a heavy sigh as a powerful, cool calm filled his body. Soon enough, the only thing he could think about was how badly he wanted to become a frat bro just like Jesse. Ivan repeated his new life mantra to himself as his mind became hyper focused on only one goal.

"I need to lighten up... I need to join a frat... I need to become best bros with Jesse..."

A lot of his engineering knowledge got wiped away from his mind to make room for his new personality. Mathematics and physics were replaced with workout regimes and a strong, itching need to drink and get laid. The partying lifestyle of the frat bro that once repulsed Ivan became as normal as breathing to the former homebody gay man. Ivan tried resisting against Miss Pigwin's conditioning. He tried reminding himself how much he loved a quiet night at home by himself. He tried recalling how much he hated loud, obnoxious men who did nothing but party and drink all night. But everytime he tried fighting against it, the little voice repeating his mantra grew louder and louder until all opposition was completely stamped out. Ivan had been reborn.

As he rose from the ground with an altered conscience and personality, the only thing on Ivan's mind was how to maximize his gains the next time he hit the gym. After all, how could he even dare to show his face around his frat brothers if he couldn't keep up with them in terms of bodybuilding?

Meanwhile, Jesse laid out sprawled on the ground as a calm stupor washed over his aggravated mind. Soon enough, his mind became a quiet place where only one thought remained.

"I'm gay for Ivan... I'm gay for Ivan... I'm gay... For Ivan..."

Jesse repeated the same sentence to himself until the words no longer felt foreign leaving his mouth. Soon enough, saying he was gay for Ivan felt as natural as saying his name. His desires to sleep with women melted away from his subconscious everytime he recited his new mantra.

Like Ivan, Jesse tried fighting against it. He tried remembering the taste and feel of a woman's touch, but it was no use against Miss Pigwin's powerful conditioning. His memories of being with women were quickly fading. In their place, a deep, profound love for his roommate-turned-loved began to take hold. Within minutes, Jesse wanted nothing more in life than to stand by his boyfriend's side and make sure he felt loved.

Once Ivan and Jesse woke up to their new personalities, Miss Pigwin finished her song, never to be heard from again due to the journal being in tatters. Jesse woke up with a headache and with a grinning Ivan by his side.

"Good morning my handsome boyfriend, how'd you sleep?"

"Amazing because I slept with you, my love." Jesse joined his lips against Ivan's. The two shared a deep kiss filled with passion, ending with a loud smack when they finally pulled apart.

"You ready for today? I can't wait to start the rushing process, then we can join together!" Ivan flashed a wide smile. Jesse wrapped his hands around Ivan's neck.

"The frat can wait till later. Right now, I want you all to myself."

He pulled Ivan in for another kiss. The two men then proceeded to fuck all morning, completely unaware of the strange circumstances that led them to that point. All thanks to a little princess pig on the cover of a bright pink notebook.

[rationaliity]

voicelines about you | various ( i. )

the men's voiceline about you ! next will do a part of the women they're short because i wanted them to sound legit, which is why i did so many !! hope you enjoy anyways <33 this is all purely self indulgent because ill be real with you im not feeling very daijoubou rn

— DR. RATIO

about you : an incomprehensible yet enticing mess in the body of a person. i don't understand their way of thinking at all, and yet, it almost feels as if they understand me in a way few do. peculiar.

chat: his relationship with you : ..relationship is hardly the word i would use to describe our acquaintance. however, i suppose they are not completely inept, unlike many i have had the misfortune of coming across in my time.

added to team with you : take care of yourself. should i have to step in, i will do so to prevent some unfortunate happenstances.

— WELT YANG

about you : potentially one of the kindest individuals i have had the pleasure to be introduced to in my time of travelling the cosmos. a gentle soul like none other. they light up the world around them.

chat: his relationship with you : spending time with them has become a daily necessity for me. i find myself beginning to nag at the others when i have not spent enough time with them. march often asks me about them before anything else.

added to team with you : i appreciate your vitality, but try to take breaks whenever necessary.

— AVENTURINE

about you : quite the enigma, that one. before i even realized it, they had snuck their way into my heart. perhaps they were betting that i wouldn't notice, and perhaps.. it paid off for them.

chat: his relationship with you : they're the chip i hold closest to my chest. no.. a chip is the wrong comparison. they're the one thing i will always hold no matter the stakes of the bet. having them by my side is more important to me than any risk.

added to team with you : i'm willing to bet that the two of us together will make quite the team.

— ARGENTI

about you : the moment our eyes met, i knew they were someone of refined elegance, but i was wholly unprepared for the true beauty of their very being.

chat: his relationship with you : i feel the closest to idrila and the eternal beauty that i seek when i am with them. they bring out a fire in me that simply cannot be quenched by any other soul, as if i were a moth to their brilliant flame.

added to team with you : as usual, i find myself captivated by your beauty and grace, my dear.

— BOOTHILL

about you : i don't know another capable of runnin' things how they run things. they got my respect. well, much more than just my respect, but that ain't proper to say.

chat: his relationship with you : ain't nothin' like the nice feelin' of knowin' you're loved by someone no matter whatcha look like or what you're capable of. they've been there through it all, the bad, the ugly, and the muddle-fudgin' terrible.

added to team with you : well i'll be the son of a nice lady, if it isn't you ! let me take care of ya, sweetheart.

— BLADE

about you : they are the one clear thing i can see when the mara strikes. no matter how far gone i am, i see them - clear as the many sunsets i have seen. they are where the light meets the dark.

chat: his relationship with you : this eternal purgatory that i have been cursed with feels... less hellish when they are by my side. it is as if, for a moment, my body and my soul forget what i am. i can only believe this is their doing.

added to team with you : death comes to all, but now is not your time.

— DAN HENG

about you : they were persistent in trying to know me for who i was, not who i could've been. they are kind, more so than any other person i have come to meet. they are strong and gentle at the same time.

chat: his relationship with you : march is always telling me that i should be more forthcoming with my emotions, but they seem to understand me quite well no matter how little i speak up. i.. really appreciate and value their presence in my life.

added to team with you : i will stand by you no matter what comes our way, do not be afraid.

— GALLAGHER

about you : what a riot, they are ! their personality reminds me of the strongest and sweetest drink mixed in one delightful package. it's easy to get addicted if i'm not careful.

chat: his relationship with you : i didn't understand at first why they wanted to hang out with this old dog as long as they did, not that you'll find me complainin' or nothin'. they always seemed entertained by my stories, and i like listenin' to them yap, too.

added to team with you : have a drink, i'll take care of whatever you need me to, just say the word.

— JING YUAN

about you : fascinating, with so many stories to tell, it could keep me even busier than i typically am for hours. although i must say that i enjoy being occupied by them than by work.

chat: his relationship with you : in the middle of the mundane trivialities of life that i have grown so accustomed to with my job title, they bring an air of uniqueness and excitement into every encounter. i find myself eagerly awaiting the times we meet.

added to team with you : i trust you are able to take this on yourself ? if not, well, that's why i am here, no ?

— GEPARD LANDAU

about you : they are more carefree than i am, and while it worries me at times, i find myself drawn to their spirit nonetheless. i think i'm just drawn to those kinds of people, or they are drawn to me.

chat: his relationship with you : sometimes, i feel like i'm nagging at them, even when i don't mean to, but it's because i'm always worried about them. i know they can protect themselves but i wish they would let me do it for them more often.

added to team with you : protecting you feels just as important as protecting belobog. i will do so with my life.

— LUKA

about you : they're probably the only person in belobog who really get my passion. they give their all for everything that they do, and i'm down for it !

chat: his relationship with you : they're really good at both getting me fired up and a little more mellow, depending on what i need for the moment. they're like my personal hype man / cheer leader, and i'm theirs when they need it ! that's why we work together so well.

added to team with you : this is going to be over like that with the two of us on the same team !

— LUOCHA

about you : they are wiser than they let on, it's hard to fool them or pull the wool over their eyes. even when i think i've kept a secret close, they've long since figured me out.

chat: his relationship with you : they help me see things that i would otherwise miss on my own, broadening my horizons when i need more depth brought to me. i'm grateful for their intuition and their knowledge on the world around us.

added to team with you : combat may not be my forte, but should you need assistance, i will be at your side.

— SUNDAY

about you : they are the embodiment of the feeling of the sun on your skin for the first time, warming your soul as well. they are gentle, and pick up where i lack.

chat: his relationship with you : i do not believe i am deserving of one quite like them, but i have a hard time letting them go nonetheless. they deserve more than i can give, but that doesn't stop me from trying regardless.

added to team with you : whoever dares to lay a finger on you will be met with swift and strict punishment.

— SAMPO KOSKI

about you : a person of many talents, much like myself, although they're charging significantly less for their expertise - free. i keep saying they should, but they're adamant about being kind.

chat: his relationship with you : my partnership with them could be best described as, er, jointly profitable. i provide my excellent services, and they grace me with their presence and their wits and.. maybe i am getting the better end of this deal.

added to team with you : it's your best pal, sampo koski, at your service ! aren't you glad i'm here ?

[hannieehaee]

HIIII, i just want you to know every content of yours has always been my fav ,i always anticipate every single writing of yours .

I would like to request reader who is in a relationship with s coups , they have been dating for a very long time. in this scenario, he admires the reader being friends with all of Svt, and how she also loves them and treats them like her little brothers, the rest of Svt enthusiastically greeting her. scoups observes from a distance admiring you with the people he cherishes . he can't help but wonder how he became so lucky to have all these people in his life.

content: bf!seungcheol, established relationship, fluff, afab reader, etc.

wc: 749

a/n: thank u so much im so glad u enjoy my content :D!! hope u like what i came up with c:

masterlist

seungcheol knew he was lucky.

after putting his career on the line at a very young age by joining an unknown company and seeing himself forced to endure all types of trials to succeed, he was now showered with accolades on a daily basis.

he had his twelve brothers, a successful career, a healthy family, a daughter (in the form of kkuma), a loving fanbase, riches and wealth. he had everything a man could possibly want. and just when he thought he possessed every luxury known to man, you came along.

you were the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld. he had met you only by a chance, in a fleeting encounter when he caught sight of you during one of his schedules. he had been bewitched from that moment by not only your beauty, but also the demeanor of your person. seungcheol didnt know you then, but he knew he needed to.

one thing led to another and he somehow made you his. this, however, did not come without much effort. seungcheol fought tooth and nail against any and every obstacle that separated him from you, with the end result being your current relationship, which had been going strong for a few years now.

everything was at ease now. now seungcheol truly had everything he could ever want. not only did he have all the aforementioned luxuries, but he also had you to share them with.

you were practically another member of his family by now. his mother had easily adopted you as a daughter, and his family had welcomed you with open arms, practically treating you as his wife – something which always made seungcheol's heart soar and cheeks warm up.

not to mention kkuma, who claimed you as her mom from the moment a smitten seungcheol introduced you to her. nothing made seungcheol's heart fill up more than playing family with the two of you, merely practicing for what would come next in your relationship. providing for the both of you in ways he always hoped to do for the wife and kids he always envisioned was something that filled him with indescribable pride.

and lastly, his brothers, who had now become your own.

seungcheol never tired of seeing you with his friends, always having to fight the embarrassing grin that always invaded his face when he brought you around to play with them.

you had a special friendship with each member; each of which seungcheol was always attentive to (from a distance, as he liked to enjoy the view).

with jeonghan, you had developed a sibling rivalry, always fighting over ownership to seungcheol's heart (and wallet). the two of you would banter often, claiming that there was only space in seungcheol's heart for one of you.

"i was here first!", jeonghan would smirk

"but im the one he takes to bed," you'd counter.

"are you sure about that?", jeonghan would tease.

and the argument would go on and on as seungcheol rolled his eyes and feigned annoyance at your friendly rivalry.

sometimes you'd be occupied by chan, who would try and entice you into dealing with seungcheol's moods in order for the members to slack off and go play rather than practice.

"c'mon! he likes you, just distract him so we can go get some tteokbokki! we'll bring you some," would promise chan, thinking his friend was none the wiser.

"bring me some soju and we have a deal", you'd always join in on the scheme, knowing your boyfriend could use a break after all.

at other times you'd join him and his friends at the gym, always up for a challenge against the gym rats in the group.

"bet i can deadlift more than you," would challenge mingyu.

"well, no shit, you're like seven feet tall!", you'd counter.

"bet i can deadlift your whole weight", joshua would join in.

"no one's deadlifting my girlfriend!", now seungcheol would intervene.

seungcheol had countless instances in which he would watch from afar and enjoy the view. the fruits of his labor accompanied by all the people who made it there with him, with you being a huge contributor.

in moments like these, there was no way for seungcheol to hide the happiness he felt at having his favorite people be each other's favorites in return. seungcheol wasn't sure what he'd done in his past life to end up here, but he'd do it a thousand times over if it meant this was the outcome every single time.

[spooky-holtz]

You Don't Need To Keep It Hush

Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Genre: fluff, VERY suggestive, its so close to being smut

Word Count: 2.7k

Prompt: based on the song 'Toothbrush" by DNCE (cringe, I know)

------------------------------------------------

There is an undeniable warmth coursing through your body when you finally manage to wake in the morning hours of a spring Saturday. The sun that peeks through the open curtains casts your bedroom in a yellow hue, the glow making the once boring room seem so much more enticing. While this helps the warmth you can feel, there is no doubt in your mind that the main culprit is the body pressed against your back.   

A heavy arm is wrapped around your waist and a soft pair of lips exhale gentle snores onto the smooth expanse of your back. You can’t help but smile as memories of the night before come flooding back. Flashing details of red hair and heavy breaths surge through your mind, the heat that was already coursing through you growing exponentially as you remember the sounds that left the lips currently pressed gently to your spine.   

You can feel the smile that graces your lips before you realize it's even there, a blush creeping across your cheeks as the sight of Melissa’s heaving chest comes straight to the forefront of your mind.   

You had never meant for your relationship with Melissa to end up this way. You had simply started as co-workers, but that’s how it always starts, right? What was the odd weekend catch-up over coffee quickly turned into full-blown meals together and now Melissa is like clockwork, always managing to turn up at your apartment door at 6pm on the dot every Friday after school, a bottle of wine and a bag of take-out under her arm. What started as a way to simply relieve stress after a rather tipsy suggestive conversation during one of those evenings has easily become the best part of your week.  

You’re snapped from your thoughts by the arm around your waist tightening, pulling you closer into the redhead as she lets out a quiet groan.   

“Jesus Christ, couldn’t you have managed to close the curtains properly last night?” she asks, her voice thick with sleep. You let out a laugh, a sharp exhale through your nose as she pushes her face further into your spine to escape the harsh glow of the morning sun.   

“You didn’t even give me chance to, you know that right?” You retort, playfulness laced in your tone.   

Melissa’s manicured nails scratch gently at your bare stomach as she stirs, pondering her next comment. You feel her smile as goosebumps erupt across the flesh of your torso where her hand lays, clearly feeling the effect her touch alone has.   

“Touche,” she says through her sleepy grin, “Can you blame me, though? Those plaid pajama pants you had on last night were extra sexy.”   

You turn your head slightly to look at her over your shoulder, only seeing the mess of red hair that is sprawled across the pillows she insists on keeping in your bed. Before this little arrangement you were quite happy with a single pillow but, of course, Melissa had her way and now the head of your bed is adorned with well over half a dozen pillows for the single night she spends here every week. The sound of soft giggles breaks through your faux-offended silence as she chuckles into the skin of your back before pressing a soft pair of lips between your shoulder blades.  

“I’m just kidding, babe,” she says, her voice still incredibly raspy from the slumber she has just awoken from. Your stomach flips at the little nickname. The giddy feeling you always get whenever Melissa calls you ‘babe’, or ‘hun’, or ‘sweetheart’ never gets old, even if she has been calling you some variation since you met in the teachers’ lounge at Abbott. The words carry an entirely new meaning now than they did a few years ago.  

Even if you aren’t technically in a relationship, you know that her words carry the affection that she shows you in other ways. That same affection is there in the sickly-sweet cup of coffee that waits in front of your seat in the teacher’s lounge every single morning, directly next to the redhead’s Stanley Tucci mug. It’s in the requests to get your classes grouped together during every single Abbott field trip. You see it in the way she’s memorized your take-out order for each restaurant this side of Philly, or the tupperware filled with leftovers that she brings you most days. While you both may not explicitly say that you love each other, you hope that these actions speak so much louder than words possibly could.   

“You’re an asshole, I hope you know that,” you say, breaking the growing tension between you. You feel her lift her head from the pillow, the hand that rests against your stomach pulling to roll you onto your back so you can get a real look at her face.   

Her chin is resting on her hand, propped up against the soft mattress and awaiting your gaze. You can’t help but be taken aback by just how beautiful she is. The sun reflects off her fiery hair, giving it a golden tint that creates a halo around her head. Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she teases you, knowing exactly what to say to invoke a reaction from you, only so she can soothe the ‘hurt’ a few seconds later.  

“Yeah, but I’m your asshole,” she says, batting her eyelashes that still wear the remnants of yesterday’s mascara, the makeup collecting under her eyes that are impossibly bright despite her sleepy state. You scrunch your nose at the statement. She does nothing but giggle, seeing your immediate disgust – she knows what she’s doing.

You can’t help but feel all traces of negativity leave your system when you feel her relax against you, choosing to move her head from her hand to rest her chin on the soft flesh of your chest. She looks up at you through her incredibly thick eyelashes and you feel your entire demeanour soften within seconds. You let the comfortable silence take over for a few moments, the two of you simply taking each other in. Her head rests against a chaotic pattern of red lipstick stains that cover your skin from the night prior. You can still feel each kiss that left each mark burning your skin.  

“Morning, gorgeous,” you say, a hint of a smile playing at your lips. She rolls her eyes at the nickname, but the blush that spreads rapidly across her cheekbones and down the milky expanse of her chest reminds you just how much she loves being called that. She’s propped herself up again, looking down at you with unspoken admiration as your free hand traces patterns up and down her spine. She forgoes words and instead trails her hand up your body to rest against the side of her neck, her nails once again scratching gently at the flesh there.   

She pulls you toward her gently, meeting your lips in the empty space between. She’s careful to use a tenderness that is only reserved for you, gently pressing your lips together while you hum your appreciation for the action into the quiet of the room. She moves languidly against your lips, taking her time to show her affection. You automatically move your hand to cup her jaw, moving her head to deepen the kiss and regain your control. You feel her gasp at the action as she reciprocates hungrily, tracing her tongue against the swollen flesh of your bottom lip. You can’t help but groan quietly against Melissa’s lips, feeling her smirk into the kiss.  

With a newfound satisfaction for your appreciation, Melissa moves away slightly and swings her leg over your waist coming to rest on the other side of your waist. She uses the leverage to straddle your hips completely, trapping you on the bed between her thick, pale thighs. As she pulls back from the kiss to look down at you through curtains of red hair, you can’t help but notice the shift in her energy, the relaxed Melissa you had just seconds ago being replaced by one that has an undeniable hunger in her eyes. It’s the same look you’ve come to recognize every Friday evening, and one that you will never tire of.  

You’re half-hypnotized as you look back at her, a mixture of her incredible beauty and intoxicating actions rendering you useless. She just smirks as you stare at her dumbly, knowing that she has you wrapped around her little finger. You find it incredibly easy to lose yourself in these moments, taking in the wrinkles around her eyes that deepen when she smiles, her bright green eyes never leaving your own.  

She’s looking down at you with a similar admiration, her eyes flitting from your own down to your lips and back. You raise your eyebrow slightly in a silent taunt, inviting her to act as she sees fit.  

She wastes no time in leaning back in, this time bypassing your lips completely and attaching her own to your sharp jawline. Her hands rest on the pillow either side of your head, trapping you in place, as if you had any desire to be free from the situation. Though your eyes are closed with pure bliss, you can feel her mussed red hair tickling against the skin of your chest as she moves one hand to rest against your jawline, maneuvering your head to reach the places she needs to reach.  

You whine as she tilts your head, her lips travelling across your jaw and down the expanse of your neck. She finds the sweet spot underneath your ear and latches to the skin there, the firm grip she has stopping you from moving away from the inevitable mark she will leave there. Covering that on Monday morning is the least of your worries right now, with the only thought coursing through your mind being Melissa’s intoxicating floral scent. You can feel her heavy breathing in your ear as she works, the sound only bringing back welcome memories of the night prior.  

As if she’s reading your thoughts, you feel Melissa’s hips push into yours from where she sits atop you. The feeling of her undeniable arousal on your stomach making your head spin, the hands that rest on her hips guiding her and pushing further into you. You’re given a slight reprieve from the overwhelming sensations as she begins to pull away from your neck, moving her head upwards to look at you properly again.  

“I guess I forgot to say, ‘good morning’”, she says, licking her lips. There is no denying that she knows exactly how to rile you up and you know she’s proud of it with the smug expression she wears. Over the last few months Melissa has learned your body like the back of her own hand, knowing exactly what spots will have you melting at her touch and bending at her mercy. She runs her thumb over your swollen bottom lip from where her hand still sits against your jaw, her strong grip keeping you in place. She looks at you almost expectantly but all you can do is stare back with your mouth slightly agape, wondering exactly what you did to deserve this wake-up call.  

“Jesus Christ Mel, you’re going to have to give me a few minutes before you pull that shit again.” You say, sighing through the sentence.  

You feel her giggle as her face breaks into one of those cheesy grins that you love, her dimples becoming more pronounced as she does so. You don’t think you will ever tire of the bliss and domesticity of your Saturday mornings with Melissa. Even if you aren’t in a ‘real’ relationship, it’s an unspoken rule that she’s not allowed to leave before you can cook her breakfast (or brunch, depending on how long you decide to stay wrapped up in bed together). Sometimes she helps you by chopping fruit or brewing the pot of coffee on the kitchen surface, stealing glances from the other side of your apartment’s small kitchen. 

The comfortable silence is broken by a quiet sigh from the redhead before she begins to move off you.  

“I guess I should probably start getting ready for the day,” she says, swinging her leg back over your hip so her bare feet can reach the cold hardwood floor of your bedroom, “Those papers won’t grade themselves.”  

She picks up your crumpled Blondie shirt from the night before from where it lays discarded on the floor at her feet, pulling it over her head before she shakes her hair out. You can’t help but watch her in awe. She truly makes even the most mundane of tasks seem incredible.  

She moves toward the bathroom as you sit up in bed, wrapping the now warm sheets around your torso to cover the smattering of lipstick stains across your chest that will probably sit there for another few hours. You can hear her as she rummages through her bag, no doubt trying to find the toothbrush she always swears she packed before leaving her own home the evening before. You sit cross-legged as you wait for the rummaging to stop and the sound of running water to start. As if she can hear your thoughts, her head appears in the bathroom doorway, a sheepish smile on her face.  

“You wouldn’t happen to have a spare toothbrush I can borrow, do you?” She asks. Her fingernails drum on the doorframe as you stare back at her, the soft smile on her face relaxing her anxiety radiating from her.  

“Check the cabinet. I bought you one while I was in the grocery store yesterday.” You say, your smile growing wider with the evident relaxation on the redhead’s features. “You can always just leave it here then, ya know? You’ll never have to remember a toothbrush if you already have one at my place.”  

She cracks a grin from where she stands, hand removed from the doorframe and playing with the rings that sit on her fingers. “Thanks, hun,” she says quietly, the sheepish grin back on her features, “I really appreciate it.” 

She disappears again and you can feel yourself slipping away with the easiness of these mornings. There is a domesticity that you’ve found yourself craving since meeting Melissa that you can only find in the Saturday’s you spend together tangled in sheets. You know that there is something more to it but the thought of ruining this near-perfect arrangement stops you from taking the next step with her.  

“Hey, how would you feel about going out for breakfast with me this morning?” You blurt out into the empty room. You can hear Melissa’s actions freeze as the quiet swishing of her new toothbrush against her teeth stills. She pads toward the doorframe again, toothbrush still in hand and foamy toothpaste covering the corner of her mouth. The sight of her makes your heart melt in your chest, knowing that nobody else gets to see her this vulnerable.  

“What, like, out-out?” she asks, her brows furrowed slightly. The question makes your gaze drop to your hands, suddenly incredibly distracted by the way that you’re picking at your cuticles.  

“Yeah, I uh, I thought that maybe we could actually go on a kind of date instead of, you know, just doing this and then not seeing each other until Monday?” You say, more to the bed sheets than to Melissa herself. You’re trying so hard not to be offended by her lack of answer, knowing that even saying anything that could hint toward your real feelings was the worst decision you could have made.  

Before you can decide to get up and remove yourself from the situation you’ve created the bed dips in front of you and a warm hand comes to rest against the side of your face. Melissa is kneeling on the crumpled white sheets that are half-wrapped around you, the grin she’s wearing showing you her newly cleaned teeth. You don’t have a chance to react before her lips are on yours, the redhead’s grin making it impossible for her to kiss you the way she really wants. She holds you delicately, the softness of her actions a sharp departure from the night before.  

It’s a short few seconds before she pulls away and meets her eyes with yours, her chest still heaving from the exertion.  

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

[onyourhyuck]

DEVILISH. | L.DH

— Prologue: “Is the reason you came to my concert looking this pretty to make me fuck you in front of my fans?”

— Summary: Where the infamous rockstar!haechan takes you behind the back stage right before his concert.

— Genre: Musician and Fan with benefits trope. Red flag rockstar!haechan. Forced proximity(?) Ass spanking. Bare backshots. Exhibitionism. There’s just something about red flag Haechan. Fingering (female receiving) Multiple orgasms and overstimulation. Clit play. Degradation.

— Notes: I’ve been seeing a lot of rockstar fics on this platform so I decided to join in on the trope.

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You knew you were playing with a darker force when the man grabbed you by your wrist dragging you to the back stage. You knew he was trouble and that he was going to turn your world upside down from the moment your eyes met. Even if it felt like a dangerous game, you didn’t want to move away from it. You didn’t want to leave him and if anything you gravitate towards him more than before.

He was known as something more. Haechan is a rockstar with a reputation that could make anyone’s skin crawl. Women are on his list to do. Music was the first priority.

The lifestyle he has makes it even harder to date so Haechan often relies on one night stands or something less restricting to live with. You happened to be one of the people he keeps coming back to for more. You’re beautiful without a doubt; but you’re also very enticing and alluring. You know how to get Haechan riled up in the most ‘innocent’ ways.

Innocently attending his concert with the most short dress? Haechan likes to think you’re getting more and more bold with him. He can’t just stand still and ignore what you’re wearing on your body.

It’s why you are pressed against the nearest wall with a hand keeping your shoulder steady in the position. The bottom hem of your dress pulled upwards letting everything become exposed to Haechan’s view. Your soaking panties were a proven point that you did this on purpose to get him completely crazy. It was a turning point for you to see Haechan coming back to his animalistic ways just because you wore a very short beautiful dress that flatters your body so much. It’s driving him crazy when each stroke with his hand creates a squelching wet sound, but the burning sensation keeping his fingers buried in between your two warm walls could make anyone come undone in their boxers instantly.

He sized up against you making sure you’re not going to try and run away from your own highs. You signed up for this and deep down you wanted this, but you are starting to wonder that you tried to bite more than you could chew.

The strokes were anything but gentle, his fingers brushed up and down your wet slit. You aren’t sure how many times you came but you came one too many in your head.

“Fuck. Look at yourself right now.” He cruelly smirks forcing you to look at him with clear vision.

You glanced up at the rockstar who makes your mind go blank, you saw how truly fucked you looked already and he barely got to the real deal.

Cheeks are cherry red, your eyes are widen looking at your own lewd expressions previously. You look so pretty despite your shocked eyes.

He leans closer taking small steps with his hands brushing up to your waist. Haechan was so excited to get you even more of a mess before the concert begins.

In reality he doesn’t have much time left. Therefore he doesn’t waste time with you. The problem between his legs can’t wait anymore, even slightest movements your body does when it flinches by the slightest kisses planting on your side of the neck made him smile.

You’re sensitive beyond belief. Every part of your body was dripping wet.

Watching the dress on you he can’t get over how short it was. He swore the first time he saw you wearing it earlier he saw your cheeks hanging out and that was enough to make Haechan have hands on you.

“Cum on my fingers right now.” He vows into your ears while you’re sucking in your stomach with each loud pant.

You’re unable to breathe right away, the harsh slapping of his palm hitting your stretched out with his two middle fingers deeply buried in your walls is making you tremble. You couldn’t speak out, you couldn’t even moan, you felt your breathing becoming heavy and rough.

It was multiple signs showing you’re reaching your very end limit. The overstimulation was finally getting to you and it was a heavenly sight for Haechan.

“Fuck, oh god, Haechan slow down—”

“Come on you can take it, don’t tell me to slow down now.” He grins. You never once complained before so why complain now?

The rockstar with the most devilish expression watching you coming undone on his hand with your remaining cum spilling out on his fingers pulling out of your abused cunt. He brings it forward licking the slit clean while letting out low moans at the taste of you on his tongue.

The sight of your panting chest grows on Haechan, he can never get enough of you becoming a whole mess for him and only him. The thing is he loves it when you get like this. Haechan loves seeing you underneath him where he can see you looking so vulnerable.

Bringing you closer he rolls more of the dress up and suddenly brings his hands down your lower back, you didn’t have time to recover from such a high orgasm because he kissed you intensely.

Taking your breath away once again. He slims down his tongue so he could suck on your bottom lip and then bites down gently pulling it.

You whine closing your eyes tightly and then his hands go more low down to grope your ass tightly. He gives your right ass cheek a little spank.

“Turn around for me darling and lean against that wall with your arms stretched out.”

Shit, you thought.

“Now? Right now?”

Haechan wants to take you right now? He has less than fifteen minutes even and you’re beginning to wonder if it was worth it to tease him with this new dress.

You definitely tried to bite more than you could chew with him right now.

You felt him leaning in to your face with a look in his eyes that told you to do it otherwise he will put you into that position that’s going to be consequences for you. You were spun around immediately with your elbows stretching out to that nearby wall in front of you. You’re unable to focus on anything else but the panties you had on where now stripped down to your ankles. Haechan spanked your ass one more time before groping it.

He began to wonder,,

“Is the reason you came to my concert looking this pretty to make me fuck you in front of my fans?”

The question caught you off guard. Sound of your heart pumping so much just by looking for an answer in your head, you tried to deny it. But that would be a lie if you didn’t like the idea of being known as Haechan’s lover or hookup. You would love it if his fans knew who you were.

The things you guys get up to behind the scenes.

Maybe you’re growing greedy but you don’t like the idea of the playboy rockstar being with someone else. Haechan hardly goes back to someone for more rounds but with you he found himself growing attached and fond.

You’re fun to be around with, and you let him use you without a complaint.

You bite your lip. “Yeah. That’s right.”

Hearing you confirming his exact thoughts he smirks dropping the white ripped jeans off with the belt unbuckled. The solid hard shape pressed up on your beautiful shaped ass makes his eyes widen. Purposely he pressed the tip leaking with precum up and down motion on your back down to the weak entrance itching to take all of him.

“You’re such a whore, but you already know that.” Haechan coos down leaning his stomach now by your back while he placed the flat palm on your stomach under.

Your bodies are pressed together, with a long liner of his erected cock creeping in your folds now. Burning sensation growing minute by minute in your stomach you found your knuckles curling up in response as Haechan thrusts forward.

You let him use you in so many ways it makes Haechan addicted to you.

And you’re getting addicted to his devilish ways.

Pursing warmth of your arousal leaking out with each time the cock’s tip nuzzles at your upcoming pink womb makes this so much more inflicting to your thoughts that became cloudy. Your mouth drops by the increase of Haechan’s hips pivoting towards your body non-stop. It’s like he won’t be stopping until he has your knees going weak on the ground. He won’t stop until you’re dizzy or passed out — at least that is what it feels like right now.

He doesn’t care about anything else right now but doing exactly this.

When the movements became hardy he caressed down your back with his hands touching your breasts exposed out that jiggle between your rocking body with the cock deeply buried in your wet cunt. You probe your incoherent noises out more when Haechan teased the nipples forth his fingertips. Brushing his lips over your neck behind he sucks on your beautiful clean smelling skin. The perfume you used was visible on the tongue once he tasted you. He drags down the waist even more having your walls clench to take shape of his deeply latching cock head hitting at the far back of your womb wanting to reach your deeper depths.

Sucking on your skin leaves you with all sorts of marks that he found so wrongly beautiful on you it felt forbidden at the same time it feels morally correct. Haechan knew this could get a scandal going on but did he care at that moment? No.

Between your legs widening even more the jelly feeling on your knees began to grow visible and your thighs shake as you feel your stomach start to violently twitch while the growing muscles on your body contract. The hands on the wall supporting you start to break and crumble as did your own expression. You couldn’t hold back your tears as this pose you’re in made you so much sensitive.

Haechan didn’t want to stop just yet. Bringing down that hand on your stomach he sweeps it even further away to rub your clit in circle movements.

Your eyes widen as Haechan teased the red swollen clit causing more of your walls to clench to his shape causing him to deeply grunt with each fast thrusting, you feel beyond amazing it made each air coming out like pants.

“Shitshit keep clenching like that baby, you might make me cum inside you.” He warned you with his droopy glares due to how much pleasure he is consuming from you.

The hand rubs in fast motions on your pussy now slapping it a few times when you’re starting to whine out. Becoming full and stuffed of his cock was one thing but becoming overstimulated with both different ways at once?

It was something you weren’t ready for.

“Fuck, please have mercy on me I won’t last long if you keep doing this to me—”

“Good.” He cuts you off with a deep breathy chuckle. “Cum on my cock. Make me feel you.” He trails down gripping your hip with the free hand rocking you down making sure your ass was right pressed on the abdomen while his cock searched ways going even more deep in you.

Hitting a different spot you grew so worn out you’re seeing blackouts randomly and his hand abusing your clit didn’t make it any better.

You knew that you were getting close to orgasm when your vision was lacking.

“H-Haechan I’m…”

Holding back your cries as tears pour down your cheeks so did your juices down your thighs and Haechan’s throbbing manhood in your womb releasing his seed into your body. It is a warm filling of becoming stuffed like a toy. You feel your voice crack and then becoming silent.

There was lingering silence before Haechan remained quiet when he was gaining back the strength as him filling you up was so overwhelming it made all senses go blank.

“Atta’ good girl.” He smirks while leaving you turn around with your wobbly legs.

Then next few minutes you finally pull your panties back on and the dress while you’re looking like a complete wrecking mess. Nonetheless you notice Haechan pulling up his white jeans and buckling the belt back on.

You’re wiping your tears that fell down your cheek as you’re in disbelief that you actually cried. However what caught you by surprise the most was something else.

His signature smile he has on while watching you wipe your face haunts you.

The man standing before you was everything you could ever think about and breath in. He was something you grew to obsess with. And now you’re in a deeper hole than before.

Haechan smirks coming forward towards you and lifting your head by the chin with his finger. “Next time I’ll have you cry even more. This was just an appetiser darling.”

You’re unsure what you got yourself into but those Devilish eyes are telling you it will be the end of you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu! Reblog this fic and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out. <3

[gay-dorito-dust]

HII!! CAN U DO A PAVITR PRABHAKAR X READER WHERE THEY SHARE THEIR FIRST KISS (OR READERS FIRST KISS, WHATEVER YOU WANT!!!) AKISISSJSJ IDK WHAT TO REQUEST CAUSE ITS MY FIRST REQUEST LMFAO - 🧑🏽‍🔧

I hope this wasn’t absolute arse as I started like some of this late in the night so there are probs inconsistencies.

‘It’s so obvious that they like each other but due to their assumptions that the other will reject them, they look for the same love in other people, only to be drawn back together because there’s no one who could love them quite like them.’ Pavitr said from your side as you both were indulging in some much needed free time by catching up on episodes of a recent show that you’ve missed. It was a great way to pass the time when nothing else of interest seemed to entice you, plus it was made even better when you got to spend it with Pavitr and his commentary regarding the love interests that you’ve grown to find endearing overtime.

‘We’ve seen this trope happen so many times in the other shows we’ve watched before this.’ You replied, looking over at him, knowing wholeheartedly that you’ve just provoked the preverbal bear, but that didn’t matter as to hear Pavitr speak passionately about something he felt so deeply made you admire him in ways you didn’t know you could.

‘It’s a fail proof formula that wins out every time!’ Pavitr exclaims before sighing dreamily as his mind began to wander amidst his many thoughts, ‘besides who doesn’t want to experience a love like that? a love that your willing to go through trial and tribulation for because you could never truly give your heart to someone else when they had their name carved into the very essence of your being by just smiling, by just being unapologetically them in all their flaws.’ Pavitr stopped midway through his speech to smile softly to himself when imagines of you popped in the forefront of his mind, it made him feel nostalgic and in a way it made him miss your presence despite you being right next to him.

Pavitr was a romantic at heart and so too did he naturally speak from it also, but due to the fact that you were just really good friends made him a little hesitant in pursuing you under the pretences that you didn’t feel the same way that he had for while now. Pavitr knew he couldn’t control his heart the moment it began picking up it’s pace within your presence, only to gradually pick up even more with the slightest things you did that he adored or moved in closer proximity to him to the point he thought he was going to pass out; fortunately for Pavitr he didn’t, sitting on elevated structures was dangerous enough but sitting on elevated structures whilst on the verge of potentially passing out wouldn’t have made for a great combination.

Despite experiencing the universal fear of rejection, it never truly stopped Pavitr from being close to you as humanly possible. After all you’re his best friend first and he’d be damned to let his romantic attachment and his fear create a rift between you two, which is why the now tradition of binge watching dramas was created for it gave him the opportunity to spend time with you; being Spider-man was amazing in and of it’s own but what wasn’t amazing was the fact that he wasn’t given as much time with you as he wanted, Mumbattan needed it’s hero but he, Pavitr Prabhakar, not Spider-Man, needed you more.

‘It’s a love many people desire but don’t have willpower to go through with as it tends to possess the ability to overwhelm them and become suffocating but it shouldn’t be that way when you’re in love.’ He explained and you listened intently to every word that fell from his lips that you’ve been transfixed on for the majority of his speech. ‘Love is an all encompassing force that can make you feel a multitude of emotions but you know when a love is right when they make you feel as though you can do anything, be anything, become anything with unbiased judgment. Real love is accepting that they are human and are bound by mistakes, real love is being the others hero but most of all real love is just two souls growing a deeper affection for humanity’s inner beauty.’ He finished, looking at you with a smile.

‘That was beautiful Pavitr.’ You tell him, ‘I know your a sucker for romance but that was especially impassioned,’ you nudged his arm in an act of playful banter despite hearing the sound of your heart breaking over having lost the boy you liked who wasn’t yours to have feelings for because like he said you could never truly give your heart to someone else when they had their name carved into the very essence of your being. ‘So…who’s the lucky person that’s made your heart sing like a canary?’ You mentally applauded yourself for being able to made it through that entire sentence without cracking from under the inevitable heartbreak you were about to experience.

Pavitr, ever the opportunist, saw the chance to admit his hearts deepest desire, sure the setting could’ve been a little better that what he had in mind but Pavitr was willing to work with whatever he was given to his advantage. So he grabbed ahold of your hands and given them a tight, comforting squeeze as he made sure to keep eye contact with you when he said his next words over the sound of his racing heart; ‘it’s you, you taught me how beautifully terrifying love can be when in the face of rejection but once upon a time you told me that it’s better to have tried then to have never have tried at all.’ You did in fact remember telling him that when he once asked you what he should do if he ever developed a crush and wanted to ask them out, which at the time only slightly stung in comparison to the overwhelmingly excruciating pain of self deprivation along with ever other human emotion attacking your sense.

Despite the verbal confirmation, you still were in a state of doubt and insecurity that it made it hard for you to believe the reality of his words no matter how hard your heart was telling you to. ‘Why me though? I’m not that special.’ Is your response and the way Pavitr’s face seemed to drop only made your fears all the more real, here he was bearing his heart out to you in a way that you could’ve only conjured up in your dreams and yet you still had to find some way to ruin it by doubting his genuine feelings. ‘Not that special?’ Pavitr repeated, his upset becoming more evident but it wasn’t in due to you but more so towards the fact that you didn’t hold yourself to the same standard that he did; which was pretty damn high. ‘Not that special?’ He repeats again, ‘you’re more then special! To me, you’re the reason the stars are hung in the sky, you’re the reason flowers bloom, birds sing in the morning and why I awake with a smile upon my face and fresh breath in my lungs. To me you’re the reason for my happiness, for my hope for the future and for my beating heart that quickens upon seeing you.’

Pavitr then went onto prove this point by pulling one of your hands that he has in his grasp towards his chest where you could feel it’s quickened pace branch your fingertips. ‘See?’ He tells you, keeping your hand against his chest, ‘that’s because of you and you still don’t think you’re special when your everything I could ever think about? I miss you when your not here but miss you even more when you are because we’re not as close as I’d like us to be but that’s not something I wish to put upon you if it’s not what your heart desires.’ He finished and you couldn’t help but start to tear up, from his impassioned speech to his unwavering acceptance to the possibility of you not feeling the same, only further proved to you how much of a beautiful soul Pavitr Prabhakar was and how fucking lucky you were to be able to know him as deeply as you did.

There was so much going off inside your head that the only response that you could come up with was; ‘Just kiss me already.’ And within a matter of seconds Pavitr had both hands cupping your cheeks as he leant in and pressed his lips firmly against yours, which had you both smiling giddily at the warmth spreading throughout your body as your lips continued to press and weave against one another in such sweet tandem; that at some points you almost forgot to pull apart for air but when you did remind yourselves that you had lungs that were in desperate need of oxygen. You didn’t dare stray too far from one another as Pavitr pressed his forehead against yours, eyes stilled closed and a dopey, lovey smile gracing his lips.

‘I don’t think I’ll be able to top your confession speech but I hope something as simple as this is enough because I like you too Pavitr Prabhakar.’ You whispered against his lips, ‘I like you a lot that when you’d talk about your crush it’d hurt but now knowing what I do now, the brief moment of pain I felt pales in comparison to the light, warm, comforting sensations I get when I’m only with you. For it was all worth this very moment.’ You finished before stealing a cheeky peck from his lips; causing him to whine when you pulled back. ‘No, give me a proper kiss.’ You chuckled but obliged to his requested and gave him a proper kiss to the lips, though this time Pavitr’s hands moved to your waist and your hands took to cupping his cheeks and soon you were back to feeling that lighthearted and warmth place.

[tulipatheticee]

labyrinth

anthony bridgerton x fem! reader

synopsis; anthony bridgerton had swore off love, but after meeting miss y/n l/n, he couldn't keep himself away. after a talk with his mother he now has to navigate his feelings to courting the owner of his heart

word count; 2.0k

master list

a/n; this was meant to be a benedict fic but my friend (who picked the song tysm) had a brain wave that labyrinth is so anthony coded

as always, kinda proof read, kinda not :p

It only hurts this much right now

Was what I was thinking the whole time

Breathe in, breathe through

Breathe deep, breathe out

Since the news that Viscount Lord Anthony Bridgerton was searching for a wife this social season had spread, he had all the ladies vying for his attention. He was very clear with himself that he most definitely did NOT want a love match. After witnessing the devastating effects of losing a loved one, he had completely sworn off it. He simply wanted a wife who would be a good viscountess, a good mother, and overall a proper, standard wife. But once he became acquainted with Miss Y/N, he was immediately enticed by her. The more he saw her, the more he spoke with her, the more he wanted her. She consumed his thoughts; he couldn't even sleep without thinking of her. She clouded his mind, his dreams, his vision. In an attempt to clear the cloud of her, he began to avoid her with all his might.

Anthony Bridgerton would NOT fall in love. But as he spent time away from her, he found himself missing her, her smile, her wit, her kind eyes, her humour, her. His resolve wavered with each passing day, the emptiness left by her absence growing unbearable. Every time he saw her across a crowded room, his heart ached with longing. The thought of another man capturing her attention, sharing moments that should have been his, filled him with a deep, unspoken dread. He realised, with a mix of frustration and inevitability, that denying his feelings was futile. She had become an integral part of his life, whether he admitted it or not.

I'll be getting over you my whole life

You know how scared I am of elevators

Never trust it if it rises fast

It can't last

The Bridgerton family estate was quiet in the early morning light, the stillness broken only by the distant sound of birdsong. Anthony sat alone in his study, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. His father's death had left a void in his life, one that he had tried to fill with duty and obligation. But lately, that void has been filled with thoughts of Y/N.

He remembered the first time he had seen her, her laughter lighting up the room as she danced with her friends. She had seemed so free, so unburdened by the worries that plagued him. He had been drawn to her from the start, but he had kept his distance, afraid of what he might feel.

"It only hurts this much right now," he had told himself, trying to convince his heart to stay guarded.

But the more he saw of Y/N, the harder it became to ignore his feelings. She was everything he had ever wanted, and everything he had sworn to avoid. He knew he couldn't keep running from his emotions forever.

Just then, there was a soft knock on the door. Anthony looked up to see his mother, Violet, standing in the doorway.

"Good morning, Anthony," she said, her voice gentle.

"Good morning," he replied, trying to smile.

Violet walked into the room, her eyes filled with concern. "You've been so distant lately. Is something troubling you?"

Anthony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's nothing, Mother. Just the usual worries."

Violet sat down beside him, her expression softening. "Anthony, I've known you all your life. I can tell when something is truly bothering you. Please, talk to me."

Anthony hesitated, the words caught in his throat. He had always been the strong one, the one who held the family together. Admitting his feelings felt like a betrayal of that role.

"It's Miss L/N," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Violet's eyes widened in surprise. "Miss Y/N? What about her?"

"I... I think I'm falling for her," Anthony admitted, his heart pounding in his chest. "But I'm afraid. Afraid of what it might mean, of what it could lead to."

Violet's expression softened even further. "Oh, Anthony. Love is always a risk, but it's a risk worth taking. You can't spend your life running from it."

Anthony looked down, his hands trembling. "But what if it doesn't last? What if it only brings pain?"

"That's a chance we all take," Violet said gently. "But you'll never know if you don't let yourself feel. Miss L/N is a wonderful woman, and I can see how much she cares for you. Don't let fear keep you from something beautiful."

Anthony took a deep breath, the weight on his chest lifting just a little. "Thank you, Mama. I needed to hear that."

Violet smiled, her eyes filled with love. "Anytime, my dear. Now, go find Miss Y/N and tell her how you feel. You might be surprised at what happens."

Anthony nodded, feeling a newfound sense of determination. He stood up, ready to face his fears head-on.

Uh oh, I'm falling in love

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Oh, I'm falling in love

The ball was in full swing, the grand hall filled with the laughter and chatter of London's elite. Y/N stood near the edge of the dance floor, her heart pounding as she watched Anthony Bridgerton move throughout the room. She tried to focus on her breathing, but it did little to calm the feeling inside her.

Anthony, was the epitome of charm and responsibility. His presence commanded attention, and Y/N couldn't help but be drawn to him. She sighed, feeling the weight of unspoken emotions pressing down on her. How did she end up here, so lost in the labyrinth of her own mind?

For Anthony, the evening was a blur of polite conversation and obligatory dances. Since his becoming Viscount, the mantle of responsibility had weighed heavily on his shoulders. He had little time for silly pursuits, and even less patience for the entanglements of love. Yet, despite his best efforts, he found his gaze drawn to Miss Y/N L/N time and time again.

As if sensing his turmoil, Y/N glanced in his direction. Their eyes met, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Anthony took a deep breath and made his way toward her, weaving through the crowd with ease. His feet were moving against his mind's wishes, yet he still did not want to stop walking towards her.

"Miss L/N," he greeted, his voice warm and familiar. "You look lovely tonight."

"Thank you, Lord Bridgerton," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "You look quite handsome yourself."

They stood in silence for a moment, the noise of the ball fading into the background. Anthony struggled to find the right words, to express the feelings he had been denying for so long.

"Would you care to dance?" he finally asked, extending his hand.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before placing her hand in his. "I'd love to."

As they moved to the centre of the dance floor, Anthony felt a sense of calm wash over him. Holding Y/N in his arms, he realised just how much he had been fighting against his own heart. The music swirled around them, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to simply feel.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Y/N asked softly, her eyes searching his.

Anthony sighed, his grip on her waist tightening slightly. "I've been a fool, Miss L/N. I've been trying to protect myself from something I thought would only bring me pain."

"And what is that?" she pressed, her voice gentle but insistent.

"Love," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "I've seen what it can do, how it can hurt. I thought I was better off without it."

Y/N's expression softened, and she reached up to touch his cheek. "Love can be painful, Lord Bridgerton. But it can also be the most beautiful thing in the world. You just have to be willing to take the risk."

Anthony stared into her eyes, feeling a sense of clarity he hadn't experienced in years. "I don't want to be afraid anymore, L/N. I don't want to spend my life running from something that could make me truly happy."

"Then don't," she whispered. "Take the leap. I'm right here with you."

At that moment, Anthony knew he had to let go of his fears. He had to embrace the love he felt for Y/N, no matter how terrifying it might be. As the music came to an end, he had to use all his willpower to not lean down and pressed a hungry kiss to her lips in front of all the ton, in the middle of a ballroom, sealing his promise to her and to himself. But he was a gentleman and would never do such (or even more) to a woman like Y/N, no, he would have to wait to do that, and what a task that was proving to be.

I thought the plane was going down

How'd you turn it right around

-----------------------

The Next Afternoon

-----------------------

It only feels this raw right now

Lost in the labyrinth of my mind

Break up, break free, break through, break down

You would break your back to make me break a smile

Anthony found Y/N in her garden, her favourite place to escape the hustle and bustle of the ton. She was sitting on a bench, her eyes closed as she listened to the sounds of nature. He had gone over to her family's estate with the intention of asking to officially court her, after a rather intimidating conversation with her father, he took a deep breath and walked over to her.

"Miss L/N," he said softly.

She turned around and smiled when she saw him. "Lord Bridgerton! What brings you out here?"

"I needed to talk to you," he said, his heart pounding. "About us."

Y/N's smile faded, her expression turning serious. "What about us?"

Anthony sat down beside her, his hands trembling. "I know I've been distant, and I know I've been distant from you. But I can't keep running from my feelings. I... I care about you, Miss L/N. More than I ever thought possible."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her mouth opened to say something, but no words came out.

"I know it's sudden," he continued, his voice filled with emotion. "But I can't keep denying how I feel. I want to be with you, Miss L/N. I want to take that chance”

Y/N's eyes widened as she reached out and took his hand. "Oh, Anthony. I've been waiting for you to say that."

Anthony's heart swelled with emotion as he pulled her into his arms. "After last night at the ball I’ve been thinking a lot..and I'm willing to face whatever comes our way, as long as we're together. And I feel it is safe for me to say you can say the same thing."

Y/N smile went all the way to her eyes, her heart filled with joy. "I really can, Lord Bridgerton. And I'm ready to take that chance with you."

You know how much I hate that 

everybody just expects me to bounce back

Just like that

------------------

A Few Weeks Later

------------------

Uh oh, I'm falling in love

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Oh, I'm falling in love

The sun was setting over Bridgerton House, casting a warm golden glow over the estate. Anthony and Y/N stood together on the terrace, watching as the last rays of light dipped below the horizon.

"I never thought I'd find someone like you," Anthony said softly, his arm wrapped around Y/N's waist. "Someone who makes me feel like this."

Y/N smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder. "And I never thought I'd find someone who could make me feel so safe and loved."

Anthony's heart swelled with love as he kissed the top of her head. "I'm so glad we took that chance, Y/N. You mean everything to me."

"And you mean everything to me," Y/N replied, her voice filled with emotion.

As they stood together, watching the stars come out one by one, Anthony knew that no matter what the future held, they would face it together. He had found his way out of the labyrinth of his mind, and into the arms of the woman he loved.

And for the first time in a long time, he felt truly at peace.

I thought the plane was going down

How'd you turn it right around

a/n pt2; i have mixed feelings about this one I DONT KNOWWW

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

Lesbian Pulp Breakdown #2

Here for another pulp breakdown ! (Finally 🙈)

This one will also have spoilers and lots of triggering content. Please be warned.

This pulp fiction breakdown is for Lesbian Love by SV Miller. 100%, absolutely written by a straight man. This book is WILD, and significantly worse than the last one I posted about Alone At Last, which I didn’t think was possible. Because that one was a train wreck.

So in this one we have our protagonist Aggie; now Aggie is married to a man called Jim but she also sleeps around and has affairs a lot. The first three chapters, if I recall, were literally just her having affairs with other men and then getting mad at her husband for accusing her of having affairs. Her and Jim have a very toxic and volatile relationship, as well as being very inconsistent in the way they approach each other, the way the approach themselves and their marriage. It’s wild.

Anyway, she gets to the point where she’s like: I don’t want to be in this marriage anymore. I don’t like him. I don’t like what we’re doing. We’re always fighting, throwing things at each other and then we end up being intimate. She hated it. Then she found an advertisement for a sanctuary away from men that was supposed to heal her, heal the relationship and get her away from there; BUT to get there she had to have a lot of money so she ended up having even more of an affair and putting herself in very dangerous situations to get the money. Though when she did, phew, off she went - she was there. It was all secret and she was given these very weird and ominous directions to get there, she wasn’t allowed to bring certain things with her etc.

When Aggie is there, it becomes very clear to us, the reader, she has just entered a massive cult. It’s also when this book just dives head first into all of its problems.

This isn’t to say Alone At Last was a good book by any stretch of the imagination, however, it did hold little nuggets of positivity, mainly in the areas of acknowledging homosexuality was natural and not having the main lesbian character end up dead or in an institution. This book can’t even say it has that going for it.

This pulp genuinely felt like a homophobic pamphlet fever dream.

There was so much sexual assault in this book committed by a lesbian, but sometimes the author would jump around on if it was assault or not in a very uncomfortable way that felt like it was rooted in a fetish.

So we have our lead lady, Aggie, introduced to this lesbian commune that is run by the lesbian dictator Helen. A rich woman set on assaulting women, keeping them trapped in this isolated location, and “turning” them gay - or as this book likes to paint it, corrupting women to sin.

There is a massive emphasis all throughout the book about how broken, unnatural and wrong lesbians are, ( the very last line is “I feel … normal!”) while simultaneously sexualising them for male titillation. With big strong men to come in towards the end and save them all.

It tries to entice us into the plot with this evil lesbian cult commune plot , where women are forced to pair up with one anther in this instance Aggie is forced to be with both Helen and a woman called Grace ; Grace is also the character Aggie ends up snot being attracted to, but only because she is in a “perverse” place). These women are locked up in torcher chambers if they don’t comply to the Evil Lesbians or try to run away.

In the end this pulp is probably a textbook example of what people think of nowadays when they think of old school lesbian pulp. With terrible writing on top! It was genuinely a slog to get through. Even though it’s relatively small it took me 4 months to finish reading it because it was just so terrible and had no redeeming qualities about it. Just a terrible mess of assault, homophobia and horrible writing.

Let’s hope the next one is better.

[radiant-reid]

just saw the post abt having to explain to spencer the talking stage then an actual relationship and how he overhears her telling someone she doesnt hv a bf maybe a blurb/fic on that idea?

Spencer steals glances at you every morning while you make your coffee and chat with Emily. It's so apparent to everyone what he's doing that JJ and Morgan have taken to stealing things off his desk, seeing how much they can take before he notices.

One day, when you're walking back to your desk you make a comment that has his interest piqued even more. "No, I don't have a boyfriend at the moment. I'm enjoying being single."

Spencer's heart sinks at your words, his mind instantly conjuring images of your dates. Dates that should mean he's your boyfriend, right? So why are you telling everyone you're single?

His head is spinning with confusion, and it's turning to anger pretty quickly. Are you ashamed to be with him? Surely if you're enjoying being single, that means you're dating other people or that you're not even interested in him.

He can't believe it, his emotions swinging from anger to sadness. It's unbelievable and you're breaking his heart.

Before you're even sitting down, Spencer's getting up and rushing to the bathroom to calm his racing heart rate before he has to be sick.

Your conversation doesn't even remain in your mind while you continue your day. What feels odd is Spencer freezing you out. Usually, on boring paperwork days, Spencer will tell you fun facts or dumb science jokes just to break up the repetitive work and horrific nature of your files.

He doesn't. Not a single comment comes your way, not even when you ask very open-ended science questions, basically inviting him to ramble about his favorite topics. None of it entices him.

His sarcastic remarks come just after lunchtime with a snappy attitude that irritates you. You're worried about him, firstly. Something must be wrong in his personal life to have him like this, but you can't help feeling a little angry that it's all being directed at you.

You were just starting to really like him and now he's turned around and shown you who he really is just because you're arguably who he's closest with. He's quickly becoming not the type of person you want to be with.

When you're the last two people in the bullpen, you realize you can't let him stay there all night. No matter how annoying he is, you're his friend, first and foremost, and he's clearly going through something.

So you approach him. "Hey, do you want to get dinner?" You ask.

"Not with you," Spencer replies coldly and totally uncharacteristically.

That's your breaking point. "What's wrong? Seriously, you've been horrible to me all day and I can't think of anything I've done to offend you."

Spencer sighs and it's weirdly more regretful than angry. "I... do you remember what you said this morning?"

You frown, unsure of what exactly he's referencing. "No?" Then you quickly add, "But I want to make things right."

"You said you didn't have a boyfriend." He feels pathetic saying it. The idea that someone like you would never be interested had been slipping from his mind, but now that concern is at the front of his mind.

You're only more confused then. "I don't."

"I thought I..." His cheeks flame up with embarrassment and he puts on a front of nonchalance. "I thought I was your boyfriend, okay? That's it."

Oh.

You wish you could have given Emily a different answer that morning. You would have proudly told her that Spencer Reid is your boyfriend, but you couldn't.

"You never asked me." You say softly, shuffling awkwardly on your feet.

"Did I need to?" He wonders dumbly, and it's very obvious that he's just unaware.

You shrug, explaining your point of view. "I thought we were still at the talking stage."

"The what?" Spencer asks.

"Like when you're just talking and casually dating, trying to work out if you're friends or if there's a romantic connection." You describe.

He nods softly before his heart sinks again. "I'm sorry, I'm an idiot." You're easily the best thing that's been in his life for a long time, and now he's totally ruined it. If you didn't think he was too inexperienced before, you do now.

"You're not, not provably." You break the awkward silence and tension that's fallen over the room, making him chuckle a little. "And I like you, exclusively."

Spencer's frown is adorable but it's concerning large this time. "Really? Still?"

"Mm-hmm." You assure him. "As long as you promise to talk to me when something's wrong instead of icing me out."

He stands up quickly, nodding. "I swear and I'm really sorry." He promises you. "So would you like to go to dinner? As boyfriend and girlfriend?"

You try to suppress an inappropriately large grin. "I would."

Spencer doesn't hide his smile and he's awkwardly tripping over his bag and feet to meet you around his side of the desk. "Let's do it." He smiles softly at you, offering out his hand for you to hold.

You take it happily, walking to the elevator with him. "Let's do it, boyfriend."

[anika-ann]

Ocaruj me (Bewitch Me) - S.R.

Type: medieval/fantasy/fairy tale AU; drabbl-ish; a part of this pseudo-medieval-fantasy AU

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 2k

Summary: Knight Steven Rogers is a man with love. That love is you. His beautiful lady who bewitched his soul even without the supernatural powers you possess. He'll follow you anywhere.

It that means bathing in a lake in a moonlight, so be it.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, unprotected sex (shocking in medieval times huh), bit of angst, fluff, knight Steve ‘cause he’s a warning, Slovak language ‘cause I can

A/N: Actual title is Očaruj mě (Bewitch Me) ...tumblr cannot handle a "č" and an “ě“ in their title 🙃 DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; inspired by THIS ask (you can find headcanons and a playlist there)

A/N 2: Chronologically fits before the events of Pomiluj mě, but if you read this first, you will spoil some of the reveals.

Magic is a dark evil thing; that is what all knights of the kingdom are reminded during their studies and training.

Magic is the wicked twine that curls around your wrist when you reach out a hand, grips you tight and drags you towards perdition.

Magic takes face of a twisted beauty, a temptress, and leads you down the path of sin with a smile worth of the Devil himself.

Magic only knows curses and wrongs.

Sir Steven Rogers knows these axioms by heart.

Steve knows they are horseshit; or at least fail to fulfil the basic rule of an axiom, which is supposed to be universality.

In Steve’s eyes, people are corrupted by many things, amongst which there is the power that comes with magic. That much is true. But the nature of magic itself is pure; t reveals the person wielding it and amplifies who they already are.

Steve would only agree with part of the axiom second to last, assured whenever he sees you. He would now too, standing near the bank of a lake, still fully clothed, his gaze inevitably drawn to the enticing image in front of him.

You, standing to the waist in the water, dressed in but the luxurious robe of moonlight caressing your skin and wearing the lake like the richest skirt; your hair cascading down freely like an elaborate veil, the commonly dark ink of your tattoo reaching from the side of your neck down your shoulder shinning bright.

When you glance over your shoulder, eyes glimmering more entrancingly than the moon and the stars combined, lips curling in a smile, the last thing Steve would compare you to would be the Devil, a dark evil thing.

The truth, however, is that if you did decide to drag him towards his end, he would follow voluntarily, heart pounding just as hard as it is now, with warmth in his chest and searing heat in is gut.  

When you speak his name, a sweet ‘rytier moj’, you indeed are every bit of a temptress, the seductress steering him toward the most beautiful of sins; but not in the name of evil.

In the name of love.

“How is it that you are not cold, bosorka moja? And by gods, remind me, love, why is it that I should follow?” he asks with a grin on his lips, as if he does not feel every ounce of his body being pulled to you by the alluring image of you alone, by the promise of the feel of your skin under his fingertips, of the taste of your lips, of your wickedly delicate hands touching him in ways no unwed lovers should.

You have told him there was a deeper meaning in bathing in that particular lake on this very night, but as fascinated as he always is by your faiths and magic, you have been convincing him with your lips whispering to his own, causing his memory to be considerably less reliable, his mind much more pliant.

You turn around to face him fully, your watery skirt swirling; Steve’s mouth turns dry at the sight of your stiff nipples and plump breasts, his last reservations dispersing as his pants become uncomfortably tight.

“For this lake is believed to possess supernatural properties, rytier moj. For I know it does,” you remind him gently, your gaze trailing down his body in appreciation as he sheds his cloak, his tunic and pants.

You once told him what you saw when he did and have aided him in recalling it quite frequently.

Beauty.

Strength.

Goodness.

Safety.

Home.

And desires personified.

Steve is only a man; all these are virtues in his mind, privileges, and the one that is not makes him preen all the more.

Dark eyes glimmering in the moonlight, your smile earns a teasing edge even as your words begin with gravity.

“Bathing in the light of the full moon nearest to the summer solstice makes one stronger. Something my knight might appreciate. I know I for sure would, since he insists on recklessly risking his life.”

His own lips curl up, heart humming with tenderness; he is cared for. He is worried about. He is loved. He is not the only one who has the comfort of a lover on their mind. Perhaps it is for ‘lovers’ is not quite the word fit for where his heart quivers in the matter of you and him. Not the only word.

Desire personified.

Gorgeous temptress.

But also beloved.

Láska moja.

Bosorka moja.

Home.

“All knights do, bosorka moja,” he says as he steps into the water, the liquid welcoming him with an unexpected sensation of cold and warmth combined.

Where his skin meets the water, immersed deeper with each tentative step on the invisible rocky floor, he is enveloped with an unfamiliar sensation, the warmth seeping into his skin almost violently, leaving gentle tingling in its wake.

His lungs expand. His heart thunders. His muscles ache until they feel as light as a feather. His large bones seem to harden, his joints feel stronger but pliant. His blood pumps vigorously, forcing a shuddering breath out of his chest.

Well, he’ll be damned; he would be if he wasn’t so blessed. He would never doubt you again. Not that he ever truly did.

You watch him, a hypnotic and hypnotizing gaze, soaked in the satisfaction and desire having thickened your tenderness. Your skin almost glows and Steve understands that his eyes were not deceiving him earlier. He is not the only one absorbing power; yours might be different in nature from his, so different and ethereal, a true force of nature, but a power nevertheless. And as you soaked in the water, your immense power grew further.

“And yet, I have not seen any knight, soldier or mercenary, nor the clumsiest commoner with as many scars, nor I saved them from so many,” you oppose him, still playful; yet, your voice has earned a husky quality Steve is drawn to like a mot to a flame, his steps growing confident.

For almost every step he takes, you take one back, away from him, sinking deeper, hiding your tempting body from his hungry sight. A delightful feigned chase begins, one of which you both know will only end in bodies intertwined. A dance Steve knows, for he has felt its thrill before, for he has danced with you before; he has danced lips to lips, hands to hips, hips to hips, lips attached to your mound with hooded eyes too, senses enveloped with heady primal need, laced with love both corporal and intangible.

It all hums within him, pounds with force bolstered by the magic surrounding him. You feel it too; he reads as much in your features.

“You haven’t seen them naked either,” he notes, a slight smile remaining.

The conversation continues even as it fades.

You hum with a smile of your own, stopping at last as takes three long strides and catches up with you, gazing up at him with a sweet challenge he cannot refuse. “That is true, rytier moj.”

But that is not what your body whispers, already miles ahead when only inches from him.

Touch me, it coaxes him instead.

Hold me.

Love me.

Have me.

Fill me.

Make me sing for you. Only for you.

Do as you crave; I crave the same, just as much.

Who is he to deny a lady? Who is he to deny you, especially when the wordless pleas entice him, please him, echo his own?

The slight prickle of strength reborn, one unknown to ordinary men, still heats his very core, his lips speaking on their own even as his fingers wander with purpose, over the skin of your waist, down your hip, over your belly button, to your sternum, over the swell of your breast, stepping closer to feel your hardened peaks brush against his chest, eliciting a breathy sound of his name amongst his questions.

“What of other blessed nights bathing in this lake? Equinoxes as well?”

Your hands move with purpose too; mapping the constellations of freckles and moles on his body, caressing the planes of strengthened muscle with teasing lightness. Your touch is surprisingly warm, Steve realizes distantly, his head and hands full of you; if he did not know better, if he did not know you were a witch, he would think you an entirely different magical species.   

As you nod and explain, your hand rises above water, stroking over his shoulder – the water follows seemingly effortlessly, swirling and curling around your palm; even as you speak, he shudders under the touch where your hands could not have possibly reached him, not at so many places at once; and yet, every single of these caresses are just as warm, loving and teasing as those of your own fingers.

With how you bended the water to your will, Steve would have thought you were born to do so. He would have thought he found himself a water nymph instead. His breathtaking, enchantingly playful water nymph.

“Bathing in the lake on a new moon nearing the spring equinox breeds rebirth, ridding of all old aches, body and heart,” you explain quietly, intimately, as your fingers tease along the dip along his hips, his own hands grasping your soft flesh with urgency growing. “First new moon after the autumn equinox calls upon the forest spirits, their protection, bringing the wiseness of our ancestors with their blessings.”

Steve’s head is full of you; your words, almost fairy-tale like, but spoken with reverence of a person who knows them true, whose rituals has called upon the forces of nature and has been rewarded for it, blessed by them.

His hands are full of you too and as his heart sings.

The rest of his body vibrates with need, impatient fingers slipping lower, towards your core, teasing alongside your slit. Even as he asks the only natural question, his focus is elsewhere, fingertip dipping into your welcoming heat, his lips whispering against yours, your hips eagerly meeting his touch.

“And what of winter solstice, bosorka moja? Tell me,” he coaxes, revelling in your playful touch turning into a grip on his hip instead, other hand wrapping around his own to urge him to sink his finger deeper, for another to join.

Who is he to deny you again? His bewitching water nymph, whose heat would envelop him just as welcomingly as the water of the lake and fill him with just as much exceptional powerful sensation...

Love her.

Take her.

Protect her.

Make her mine.

“It keeps your heart warm,” you sigh, mouth chasing after his, fingertips finally brushing over his hardness, curling around the length and squeezing and twisting enough for his strained muscles to melt, rushing to lift your leg to wrap around his waist, opening you up for him, your taste, your scent, your husky voice like the most tempting trap he rushes into with vigour and pride. “Keeps your love safe. On the full moon close--- oh Steve— closest to the solstice- preserving it even through the— the harshest of winters----Steven!

The steady movements of his fingers stutter at the needy pulsing grip around them, eliciting another and another, his thumb brushing over your clit, mouth slanting over yours to swallow your cries of ecstasy, cradling your head to his as your hips keep rocking into his hand. You’ll feel like heaven, like you always do, but the burst inside him at feeling your pleasure coaxed by him is almost, almost enough.

“I’ll be here,” he promises against your lips, kissing you again, tipping your head back, your body so gorgeously pliant to his greedy touch. “I will be here, with you, every quarter a year. Every month, every day, love.”

“Ľubim ťa,” you gasp and Steve makes another promise, to not meet you here, but bring you. Bring you from your shared home at last, because even by the damn equinox, he will have done you right, a ring on your finger, his everything made yours, as you deserve.

“Ľubim ťa, bosorka moja,” he whispers back, a chuckle escaping him when his eyes flutter open, offered a sight of soft sprinkles and curls of water rising above the surface and glimmering in the moonlight.

Your magic exploding outside of you as pleasure fills your veins.

Steve is certain it will never cease to amaze him; or spur him to coax something even more fascinating when chasing his own peak and yours together, even as that alone is a gift he cherishes.

Your hands slide to his shoulders for leverage as his fingers leave you empty, moving to your bottom to lift you up, sliding in almost effortlessly.    

No words are needed then. As you connect your bodies and souls alike, the water keeps dancing.

You glow behind Steve’s hooded eyes, tattoo shining as bright as your affection, beauty and goodness, a reminder that no, magic could not be further from the darkness in corporal form. In every waking moment, he would swear he has never seen, nor heard, nor felt anything more beautiful and lighter than you, even with a face and voice of a temptress you embody.

The only sin you have led him to, the only speckle of shame on his honour, is the one he will remedy soon and has nothing do with your magical nature.

No, not the Devil; a goddess in your own right.

And you have not cursed him, no. Sir Steven Rogers, tvoj rytier, entirely bewitched, feels blessed.

Other headcanon and playlist

S.R. masterlist - contains other knight!Steve fics, independent of this universe

Complete masterlist

Terms of endearment from Slovak language: Rytier moj (My knight) Bosorka moja (Witch mine) Láska moja (Love mine) Ľubim ťa (I love you)

I hope you enjoyed, loves 💕 Please consider leaving feedback/reblog/anything if you did 🥰

May April be kind to you 🌼✨

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Platonic Yandere Queen Step Sister

She wasn’t always a queen 

Like every queen before she was a princess

But before she was a princess she was a count from a low-class duchy

Her mother had found your father

Old, ill, and enticed by the countess willing to entertain him

The countess herself wasn’t awful

She was civil, for the most part the only problem with her was her daughter

“And this is your new sister—Harley! Say hello!”

“Hmph just because your Dad’s the King doesn’t mean I have to like you!”

“Harley!”

Harley was a menace

Snooty and rude

Every time she spoke to you it was like liquid acid spraying specifically at you

She was typically spoiled but she never mistreated the servants 

She was decent to your father 

But to you, it was like she hated your guts from the very beginning

“I’m glad I spilled all that cranberry juice on you! The little outfit you were wearing before matched your ugliness a bit too well.”

“That was a gift from my late mother!”

“Hm figures.”

Of course in turn you hate her too

And you don’t bother hiding it from your father when he weakly asks you to hang out with her

“Did you hear what she said to me? I honestly couldn’t care less if that horse she spooked stomped her flat.”

“(Y/n)! Hold your tongue, she’s your new sister.”

“She might be your daughter but that thing is not my sister.”

He doesn’t seem convinced as he continues putting you together with her in hopes it will strengthen your bond

It does not

And it will never be as your father succumbs to his illness

Naturally, you prepare to take on the throne despite your young age

But alas nothing goes the way it should since she’s been forced into your life

“As the former partner of the King, I gladly will take up the role until our child is ready.”

It’s infuriating as the advisor reads a part in his newly written will about this

How he ordained that his second wife have you in her care and the kingdom in her control

And of course decency dwindles as she becomes drunk on the social power

Fueling her gremlin of a daughter

“Mother’s forbidden you from leaving your room. So I figured I’d give you some of my company! You're welcome.”

“Go jump out the window.”

“How dare–MOM!”

It just gets worse and worse

You do think for a moment things will get better as The substitute Queen keels over her wine at a banquet

Thanking the heavens for whoever poisoned her, you’re prepared to take the throne

“I am so sorry (Y/n) but the council has ruled that for your safety as the kingdom’s only true heir, it’d be dangerous to let you take the throne. So we’ll give the role of Queen to Harley.”

It takes you everything not to stab the brat as she puffs her chest and flips her hair

“Won’t you congratulate me on my coronation!”

It’s agony that ripples under your skin as you have no choice but to flee the castle grounds to escape her stabbing presence and that only works for a day at most

With her mother no longer ruling she isn’t forced to take etiquette lessons away from you

Now she can demand your attendance for any minor meeting

“I don’t think we should mobilize our militia on that border. It’s far too much of an overreaction.”

“What about the villages that have been burned there? The people who need medical attention?”

“Hush (Y/n) I didn’t say you could talk in this meeting.”

It's all so frustrating feeling trapped

But you’re not the only one 

Harley is incredibly frustrated because of what keeps her trapped

And that’s her inability to say anything that she truly means

Especially with manners of the heart

Underneath layers of cruel insults, stifling rules, and personal jabs 

Is a step-sister who adores your very being but is stuck with her thorny exterior

She is forced to stick her nose up and sneer at you when you look her direction

When she’ll say “You look like death with the new family brooch. You might do better to just leave it off.”

What she means “I think you look even more gorgeous than usual with the family brooch, don’t ever take it off.”

If she wasn’t as backward demented as she was it probably wouldn’t be so hard to try being nice

To switch her compliments to insults for just a day to give you a kind compliment

But she hates actually making it so that

Naturally, this is why she killed her mother

She’d gotten in the way of her free time with you 

On top of looking down on you which she absolutely hates the most

Granted she’s certain you hate her with how much time she spends attempting to bring you down expressing her affection the only way she can

Sometimes she’s tempted to put it in writing 

just explain her condition so that she can jump into your arms as you connect the dots

But every time she’d written something out, she couldn’t help but confess how obsessed she was with you 

How happy she was that her whole job now was protecting you

She wasn’t exactly fond of the kingdom other than it being an inheritance for you

She hopes you’ll forgive her as she’ll  prioritize you and your safety above all else

No one but your father’s trusted advisor may see past her biting personality

Convinced with the council that it’s best to have her temporarily rule

If only until they get to the bottom of both the King and the Queen’s deaths

Should any council member question her or her motives 

she’d be quick to shut that down

She can’t have these old nobles get in the way of her dominion over you

“I hope you enjoy the joys of being accused of fraud. It’ll be nice to look back on your time when on the council when you’re rotting in jail.”

She has no mercy for anyone but you

[preet-01]

Since we're getting into fall weather here, I've been watching period pieces. So here's part one of a maxiel renaissance au with artist max

note: I have very little idea of how money worked in renaissance rome so some suspension of belief is needed for that. though it is a very interesting topic to study based on the little research I did - there were so many types of coins in Italy's history and vary based on the duchy

cw: dubious consent, prostitution

word count: 3287

part one ||| part two

Daniel sighs as he looks at the pouch of coins – ten florins and five grossi. It wouldn’t be enough to get groceries, medicine for Mark, and supplies for Oscar’s apprenticeship.

He would need to ration, Mark’s medicine was a necessity. For all Mark says his leg doesn’t pain him, the doctor had been clear that if they wanted Mark to heal properly then the medicine was necessary. It would take four florins to get all the medicine and bandages – leaving him with six florins and five grossi. 

Five florins would get him the supplies for Oscar’s apprenticeship. Signor Cordiani provides most of the materials Oscar needs, but he would need to get his own paper and drawing materials. It also meant that they would need to continue buying the materials as Oscar runs out of them, which left him with one florin and five grossi. 

He could get some vegetables and hopefully, he’d be able to make a stew with the few ingredients they had at home. That should last them a few days. They would have two grossi left which Daniel could give to Oscar just in case he would need to buy snacks whilst at his apprenticeship during the day. 

The journey from the market to their small home is quick. Neighbors greet him with smiles as they have seen him grow from babe in his mother’s belly to the man he now is. Girls giggle and wave, while men either avert their gazes or leer. Though the girls will do no more than giggle and wave, he is handsome, yes, but he has no money. Or at least not enough to entice any girl into marriage with him. And certainly not when he’s dedicated much of his adulthood so far to taking care of his brothers – marrying him would mean helping him take care of a younger brother who was being apprenticed and an older, bedridden brother. 

Oscar is already home when Daniel gets there. Busy mending his cloak, he doesn’t notice Daniel until the door shuts. Scraps of fabric and thread rest on the table next to Oscar, Daniel will need to buy stronger thread and warmer fabric soon as the warm sunny days become cold dark nights sooner and sooner with each passing day. 

“I’m sorry,” Oscar mumbles when he looks at the meager groceries and abundant supplies for his apprenticeship with Signor Cordiani.

“Don’t be,” Daniel says. He tries to smile at his little brother so he may reassure him that everything is fine and they are not extremely tight on money at the moment. He needed to be the strong one among the three of them, he needed to take care of his brothers. Mark’s injury kept him chained to the bed with only a few moments of walking every day and Oscar was yet young but the only one of the three of them who had the potential to make a name for himself. So he needed to be strong and work whatever jobs he got to provide for his brothers. “Signora Carini will be giving me an advance on my monthly wages soon,” he lies. It won’t be an advance on anything since Daniel does not have a set wage, he gets paid based on how many clients he has, on how many jobs he takes. “Could you go get water from the well? It was not on my way here,” he asks. 

Oscar nods and goes to get some water. Meanwhile, Daniel heads to Mark’s room with the medicine and bandages in hand. Mark is where he had been when Daniel went to work in the morning. Though able to walk a few steps with a cane, the pain in his leg kept him stuck on the bed. 

“You didn’t need to buy that. My leg barely even hurts anymore,” Mark grumbles when he sees the items in Daniel’s hands, “the coin could’ve been spent on something else.” Daniel simply raises his brow when Mark winces as he tries to sit up on the bed. Mark had turned to metal work instead of becoming a vendor when their parents were still alive – metalworkers made more money than vendors. 

The accident happened a few months ago. 

A scalding pot filled with liquid metal had fallen on Mark’s leg. Though the liquid metal hadn’t touched his skin, the heaviness of the pot had broken Mark’s leg and it had burned his skin. The healing process, the doctor has told them, would be slow. Their household had gone from two incomes to one at possibly the worst time ever, not that Daniel would say such a thing to his brothers. 

He couldn’t bear to witness their guilty looks or have Oscar not follow his dreams to help Daniel. 

Without another word, Daniel peels back the bandages he had done in the morning with the little bit of medicine they had left. Slowly, he cleans the wounds, trying his best to not hurt Mark or worsen the injury. “I spoke to Lucia,” Daniel brings up.

“Hmh?” 

“Oscar’s apprenticeship starts soon and you will need someone to help with your leg,” Daniel says, “she’s agreed to come by once every day to check in and make sure you do your daily walk.” 

“Daniel-” 

“Please, just go along with it for my sake? I worry,” Daniel cuts him off. Mark sighs but nods. Daniel knows that Mark isn’t happy about it, but for Daniel’s sake will do it. 

________

Daniel had wanted to explore. 

With a desire for adventure and a wish to see the world, Daniel spent much of his younger years studying cartography. He had been good at it. 

He’d been sixteen when their parents died. It had started as a fever spreading through the city. They’d all gotten it at one point or another, but while they pulled through, their parents hadn’t. Mother was the first to die and his father’s will to survive had lessened until he joined her. 

All hopes of his dreams and aspirations died along with them. There really was no other option. 

Oscar was just a child, barely eight years old and unable to understand what had happened to their parents. Mark, while older, had to work even more than he previously did. With longer hours and more time spent working, he couldn’t raise Oscar. Nor could they afford to pay someone to look after Oscar. 

So Daniel stowed his maps in a chest. Hiding them out of sight but unable to part from something he had loved so much. He’d suppressed his wanderlust and turned his attention to raising his little brother. 

He took menial jobs while Oscar was at lessons with other children in their neighborhood. Three to five-hour jobs with little stability so he could earn some money to lessen Mark’s stress and take care of food expenses. He’d done that until he landed on the doorstep of Signora Carini’s artists’ workshop. 

It’d started innocently. Signora Carini needed a male model for her workshop and he fit the ideal description. Classes at the workshop only lasted a few hours and there was stability. A consistent flow of coins helped them save money for Oscar’s tuition as he grew older. They couldn’t afford anything extravagant, but life was comfortable. 

Everything was okay until Mark’s accident. Daniel had thought about returning to his cartography and contacting his old tutor. He’d started to dream again of leaving the streets of Rome to see the world beyond what he knew. 

But leaving Rome was not in Daniel’s destiny. He was never going to escape the streets he grew up in. Not anymore. He knew that now. 

“Artists are romantics,” Signora Carini had told him when he went to her after Mark’s accident, “and you, my dear, are very pretty.” 

She had caressed his cheek like his mother used to do when he was younger and led him into a private room some artists rented out when they wanted to work without all the noise. 

Ophelia, one of the other models, was in the room. Moans and the smell of sex filled the room as Matteo, one of the regular artists at the workshop, fucked Ophelia. “What?” Signora Carini kept him there as Matteo fucked Ophelia and left her there with five florins — three more than they earned for being models. 

Matteo was the first to take him. Unlike there had been with Ophelia, there were no pretenses about what would happen when they were in the private room. The canvas went untouched as Matteo painted Daniel’s bare skin with bruises and cum. 

At least Matteo was handsome. Daniel could pretend that it was just another dalliance he had — no different from the men Daniel slept with before. 

Others were not so handsome. Nor did they let Daniel pretend like it was just another casual fuck. They wanted more control. They wanted him to smile prettily and let them move his limbs all under the guise of setting him in the perfect pose for a painting that would take thrice the time it should to be finished. 

“You’re much prettier than the girls the Signora has,” the man, Lorenzo, says between grunts. Daniel doesn’t say anything, just fakes a moan as he thinks of all he would need to do once he gets home. Mark should be taking his evening nap and Oscar off at his apprenticeship, giving Daniel enough time to bathe and wipe away any evidence of the things he’d done. If he was fast enough, he’d be able to have dinner on the table before Oscar got home. 

Thankfully the man doesn’t finish inside of him. Most did not listen to that request, too lost in taking their own pleasure. “Same time next week,” the man says when he’s leaving. Five florins rest on the table next to Daniel when he finally has the wherewithal to get up and wipe himself clean for the time being. 

Depositing the coins in his pouch, he goes about cleaning the room and storing the half-complete sketch for next week. 

Daniel is setting up the easel when his next client is let in. “No need for pretenses,” the man says, stopping him. “How many clients have you had today?” He questions. 

“Four already, Master Alberto,” Daniel answers. 

“Oh Daniel, my brightest pupil,” Alberto says, reaching forward to caress his cheek before pushing off the robe. “You would have made an excellent cartographer, but being a whore is your true calling,” he continues. 

Daniel doesn’t moan this time around. Just lays there as the man once meant to teach him the ways of cartography now charts a course of bruises and bites on his skin. He had never liked Daniel making much noise — not when Daniel was his student and certainly not now that he’s his favorite whore. 

Master Alberto always liked to enter Daniel when he was on his back, wanting to see the moment his cock breached the most private part of Daniel. He’d keep Daniel on his back for a few thrusts as his arousal grew at the sight of his once star pupil taking his cock. But sooner than later, he’d take Daniel like a dog takes a bitch in heat, pounding into him with little care about anything other than reaching his completion. 

Sometimes — when Daniel had taken many clients beforehand — he’d reach his peak quickly. Daniel hated those days. Not because he wanted his former tutor fucking him for longer. Rooms were rented based on hours, not orgasms. 

On those days, he’d have Daniel warm his cock. He’d keep it in Daniel’s mouth until he was hard again and then fuck Daniel again. So Daniel hated those days and prayed that Master Alberto would run out of his time. 

Daniel had wanted to explore the world. He had wanted to make maps and find new places. He had been good at it. The best student of Master Alberto — sixteen and filled with so much promise. 

________

Daniel would model for one of the workshop classes at the start of every week. It was the one day that Signora Carini wouldn’t schedule any private modelings for him. 

That is always Daniel’s favorite day. He’s not always naked on those days and the artists are there to perfect their craft, not have an excuse to fuck him without suspicions of being sodomists. 

One artist from the British Isles would always tell him a story of some far-off place he’d visited before coming to Rome. Stories of exotic people in the east and the vast seas in the west filled the classes. 

At the end, he’d always thank Daniel and say his goodbyes. Never once had he requested a private session or touched Daniel in any manner that wasn’t respectable. 

Daniel had always liked him best, just as he liked the start of the week best. 

“But I have the workshop?” Daniel asks, confused by Signora Carini guiding him toward the private room. He doesn’t earn more than two florins, but he likes earning those two florins. He likes starting the week with the handsome man from the British Isles who tells him stories and is kind. 

“Signor Verstappen is paying a lot and he requested you,” she tells him, “Ophelia will model for today’s workshop.” 

Inside the room, Signora Carini orders him to strip and put on the robe most of the models wear for private sessions. “Be good for him Daniel, he may be Dutch but he is very wealthy.” 

Daniel is tying the robe tightly across his waist when a blond-haired man steps into the room carrying his own canvas and paints. 

Handsome and foreign. Daniel could do this. He just needed to smile prettily and moan. 

“Ah, you must be Daniel. I’m Max Verstappen” the man, Signor Verstappen, says with a thick accent that makes his name sound unfamiliar. “Lewis spoke wonderfully about you,” he continues. 

Daniel had many clients ever since Mark’s accident, but he doesn’t remember any Lewis. There was Matteo, Alberto, Lorenzo, Cosimo, and Alexander, just to name a few of them. But no Lewis. 

“Lewis?” Daniel asks, wondering if one of the men has given a false name. He wouldn’t be surprised, some of the things they liked doing with him could ruin lives if even rumors spread of them.

Lewis, Max tells him, is the man from the British Isles who would tell Daniel tales of his travels. Max just keeps talking as he sets up his canvas and supplies. Daniel isn’t entirely sure of what he is saying, but Daniel just nods along. None of the other clients cared much about conversation unless it was to tell him how he’s prettier than some of the girls they’ve seen or how to pose to capture the light just right. 

“You are, of course, perfect for this,” Max says as Daniel zones back into the conversation. 

“Huh?” Daniel questions. 

“For Bacchus,” Max replies, “oh good, there’s oil.” The vial of oil rests on the table where artists would leave coins for him. 

For the next three hours, Daniel has his oddest day of work. 

Max doesn’t fuck him. Doesn’t touch him in any manner that would be considered blasphemous by the Church. Doesn’t make any comments about how pretty he is or how good he would look with a cock in him. 

Nothing. 

Absolutely nothing except sketching his pose on the canvas. He talks and talks and talks, but all of it concerns the painting or how different Rome is from Amsterdam. 

The same happens the next day. Daniel goes to the workshop and Signora Carini leads him to the private room where a robe and fruits are laid out on the bed. Wine and a laurel wreath rest on the table with the vial of oil. Pillows and draperies are nearby in a basket. And at the center of it all is Max Verstappen setting up his canvas and paints. 

Nothing happens, except Max spreads the oil across his chest and moves his limbs in the perfect position. He places the grapes and other fruits around Daniel, covering Daniel’s bare and oiled skin. 

For three hours Max paints him. 

“Do you like being a model?” Max questions. 

“It is a job,” Daniel says noncommittally. It’s not exactly what he had wanted, but it helps provide for his family and allows Oscar to achieve his dreams. If there was another option, he wouldn’t choose this, but this was his only option as he had never been able to hone his skills in any other line of work due to stopping everything when he was sixteen. All he had was his face and body – two things a lot of people wanted to pay a lot for. 

Max makes jokes more often than not. He makes his jokes and looks at Daniel from where he’s sat behind the canvas, and then doesn’t laugh until Daniel laughs. He asks questions about Daniel’s brothers – gives Dutch pain remedies when Daniel talks about Mark’s injury and listens intently as Daniel talks of how talented Oscar is. Max talks a lot about his painting and how he had searched everywhere for the perfect muse, the perfect model to embody Bacchus. 

It goes like that. Max asks him random questions while Daniel wonders when the other man would get it over with. Wondering when the other shoe would drop and Daniel would need to fulfill Max’s desires. Everything seems too normal. It makes him feel not like the whore his usual clients sought, but an actual artist’s model and muse he’d thought he would be when he first stepped through the doors of Signora Carini’s workshop. 

He breaks on the eighth day. After seven days, a week, of laying on the small bed with fresh fruits adorning his naked body, a glass of wine in hand, and oil on his chest instead of coating his hole, Daniel finally asks Max when he’ll fuck him so they could get it over with. 

“Wha-What??” Max sputters, his typically steady hand wavering as he holds the paintbrush just centimeters away from the nearly completed canvas. “Why would- what???” 

“You’re not here to fuck me?” Daniel questions, the grapes resting on his crotch falling as Daniel sits up. “Just to paint?” He grimaces when he sees traces of grape juice staining his skin. 

“Of course, I am here to paint. It is a workshop,” Max replies. 

Daniel just looks at him. Artists didn’t take private rooms to just paint. They didn’t fondle models and request oil to be on all the tables just to paint. They didn’t spend a fortune in the workshop almost every week just to paint. Daniel had seen more than his fair share of painting that would never be completed because the so called artists would rather fuck the models than hone their craft. 

Artist’s workshop was just another name for a brothel, only this way they didn’t have to worry about it impacting the lives they lived outside of these four walls.

He was not the crazy one for asking why Max just kept painting him instead of doing what every other man did. He wasn’t. 

“I have to go,” Daniel says. Rushing to get up, he feels the juice of all the fruits squeezing and oozing underneath his limbs, but he does not get up. He needs to be away from here and from Max who doesn’t want to fuck him and just wants to paint him. People don’t want to paint him, they want to fuck him. He’s not a muse or anything like that, just the favorite whore. 

“Daniel-” Max starts to say, but Daniel doesn’t wait around to hear it. 

_______

Part 2 (Max POV) will be posted in about a week