#not for a circle . not for love . not for anything

[screampied]

#BONGOS!

☆ sum. pov: when his backshots are just so good, they sound like bongooos! toji, choso, geto, sukuna, ino, nanami, gojo.

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, dick drunk! reader, LETHAL BACKSHOTSSS, dom! choso sorta, ass obsessed men, size kink, brief cunnīlingus, doggystyle, prone boneee, hair pulling (nanami), slight dacryphīlia, runnin from it, pússy so good tears uppp (ino), spanks, dirty talk, sqúirting, bręeding, bed breaking, manhandling, cęrvix fucking.

an. HAPPY SQUIRTMAS *wet jingle noises*

CHOSO ★ KAMO.

“mhm- ah ah, get back here,” choso sharply prowls, each smoky pant turning raspier within the pitch.

choso was two words - feral and ruthless, and here he was having you all pretty and bent over on all fours..

his dark-rimmed eyes wandered everywhere at your body displayed underneath him. choso’s pointed ears couldn’t help but instinctively twitch upon hearing each sobbing mewl draaag its way out of your esophagus. it’s nothing but cute elongated syllables that made little to no sense, and each electrifying paps of fleshy stinging mounds clasping together has your head spinning in circles.

“ ‘m tired…of you, hah- always teasin’ me so much, baby. think you need a reminder of who’s in charge, huuuh?”

“c- chos—oooh!” your words get crudely cut off at the sloppy curve of his cock massaging through each part of your cunt.

like a maze - the upper part of his puffed tip clumsily gets lost, leisurely finding its way through before wetly marking every tender spot of your pussy with his curious tip. he’s beating up all spots, slowing his jagged hitting hips down purposely before picking his pace right back up. “mm- right f- fuckin’ thereee, fuck me then.”

with a sassy eye roll, choso deepens his angle, reaching an arm out to hold onto the grunting, wooden headboard. it’s undeniably loud, creaking non-stop each time both jolting bodies ounce against the bed frame.

“plan… on it,” and you whine, glossed lips breaking apart before your mouth spreads agape. he’s just so thick, and he loves more than anything to treat your pussy like it was just elastic. that effortless stretch- choso groans every time he feels you closing around him, cutely trying to squeeze around him before wheezing out those cute ‘oooh!’ ’s of whimpers.

“hah- gotta teach her some manners. can’t have you thinkin’ you can just walk all over me, princess—oh, fuuuck.”

every nth of choso’s staggering fat inches drills into you deeply, causing your eyes to goofily cross. he’s in you sooo good, using two grabby hands to raise your clumsy hips upright. “ugh- choso, mhm!” and your cunt’s just profusely dripping all around him, eagerly squelching at each springy thrust. he’s hard, maintaining a good alignment before his hips shimmy. his pace was literally inhuman. choso treats your convulsing nub like a target—repeatedly, striking your g-spot with precise hits as if it’s the perfect bullseye.

as you both each share laborious, breathy pants, he snatches your hips right back against his chiseled pelvis with an impish disapproving pout. “what did i say…no mngh- runnin’, pretty,” and you moan, feeling choso’s hand makes you dip all the way forward into his bare chest.

now, your back was just arched fully over with your ass perked up in the air. choso admires your slobbering pussy before leaning in, taking a moment to spit down between the exposed valley of your ass.

“f- fuuck, you’re so nasty, ‘cho,” you’d whine, holding back a bratty smile once your hand grips a jiggling fat of your rotating ass. through bleary peripherals and droopy hanging eyelids, choso’s swiping a thumb over his lips, another smearing his treacly saliva around your stuffed entrance to make sure you stay nice and wet for him.

it’s incredibly slimy, and his digit continues to sloppily trail further down the teary slot of cunt. it’s so raunchy, and choso licks his thin-pursed lips as if he’s preparing to feast….and right then, that’s when choso brings his freshly slick-coated fingers toward his rosy achy lips.

“she’s.. nastier,” choso grunts with his blushful broad tip aching from every ridged corner. your cunt wetly pops out an excited shriek of its own and your entire body starts to relax. he’s hissing through his teeth, fanning himself once he feels the cruel stiffening of his cock pound pound pound into your very core. “lemme hear her some more, princess. ‘s not enough hah- wet talk.”

and as choso’s rude hips continue to buck buck buck, he’s using every raging part of his hips to drill into you raw.

each twist, each turn—he’s deep, making sure your cunt remembers every narrow hit of his dick. a mixture of your sweetened moans and his feral grunts fill the air before he feels that cute clamping stick of your ass. “ ‘m gonna cum, ‘m cummin!” you’d gasp, poor knobbly thighs just slapping against each other. choso’s hips had the inside of your mouth watering, and you only wanted more. “fuck me- fuck me, f- ugh!”

your body inaudible screams with tremors and tremors of crazed shakes. once your lonely awaited finish comes, your mouth drops open but not a sound comes out. instead, a cute tiny squeak follows out of your husky larynx with your eyes carelessly rolllllling way back into the very back of your brain.

you’re seeing nothing but black as you’re riding out your orgasm, creaming down on choso’s cock with not a single thought in mind. “mhm- that’s it, ride it out baby, ride it out,” choso slows his hips to your defeated rhythm, feeling your body underneath him convulse rapidly. you saw stars, galaxies of them in fact, maybe even a few comets.

“c- choso,” you’d moan, hearing pitchy rough breaths from behind you. the wiiiiide stretch of his dick still makes itself known and you’re humming, batting your dampened lashes sporadically at the sudden overwhelming wave of elation. “fuuuckk- more,” and he ogles as you make him pull out, cutely flipping yourself over with a flushed look of sensual desire.

despite how you were just drenched in your sweat, you still craved more. choso stares at you sprawling your legs out fully, bringing two dry padded fingers towards your sensitive clit before pinching it. “l.. let’s try mating press, baby.”

“you’re impossible,” he sheepishly says, with a wry head shake, gingerly placing his weight on top of you. his onyx-colored ponytails were all scruffy, and he was sweating from all corners of his forehead. with a loud, wet ‘plap!’ noise, choso sloppily re-aligns his tip before it sloooowly starts to sink its way inside of your wet pussy, reuniting.

“hah- fine, but ‘m gonna have to…stretch you a bit, baby,” and you moan, feeling choso raise your leg, nearly hooking it over your head before positioning the other limb to mimic the same. sealing your trembling lips with an open-mouthed kiss, he grunts against your twisting tongue as he’s hungrily bottoming out inside of you.

“gotta get my baby all stretched,” he slips out a throaty whimper, hardened cock barreling further inside of you before he surprises random sticky kisses on your raised ankle.

“but, l- let’s…test out that flexibility while we’re at it, hm?”

SUGURU ★ GETO.

geto and backshots are a deadly combo within itself.

“take it. take it, taaake it,” he growls, his carnally encouraging words sounding more like a looping chant by the second. you’re moaning with his palm slapped against your mouth, shamefully drooling all over his hand in the process. of course, staring right in front of you too, was no one other than yourself. arched over, hunched over too, and lewdly crossed-eyed.

you probably looked a sight.

ruffled, shaggy strands of hair glued to your forehead. as your jaw was goofily hanging—just forever open with an agape ‘lil mouth that’s covered with geto’s hand, your wet tongue licks a path around his warm palm.

gasping for any ounces of air that you could get with his hand printed over your mouth, your cheek then prints against the cold, frigid mirror with how harder his thrusts were getting. “f- fuck, sugu mmph!” you coo out, feeling your thighs tense at each popping slam. remnants of whiteish, dried cum painted against your thighs. a licentious, dirty reminder of just how much he was claiming you from behind.

round after round and it turned from minutes to hours of just getting filled from every orifice with geto’s hot, creamy cum. geto’s cock wears you thin in every goopy crevice ‘n corner of your wet pussy, causing your poor larynx to sound hoarse from all the moaning within no time.

he’s pumping in all inches—grinding into your hips as you moved, cutely trying to jostle your waist to his rhythm but failing horribly.

“mngh- slutty girl, look at that ass tryna fuck me back. A for effort, i guess,” he grunts with a sneer, admiring the tears of sweat that started to gloss down your arched spine. so pretty..

almost looking akin to a necklace, a huge hand wraps around your throat before making sure you face yourself in the mirror. geto slides his other palm away from your mouth, scoffing at the webby sleek strings of spit following before he rubs it all over your mouth. “don’t look away, look at how your face gets when you…hah- slut yourself out on my dick, doll.”

“ugh- harderrrr,” your moans were starting to turn bouncy, and he was fucking you with every damn fiber of his being. geto’s buckled knees bury into the silk padded mattress and he’s dragging out hoarse gasp after gasp from your parched throat. his hits against your ass were loud, they sounded like bongos with how rough his pelvis creates music with each drumming hit.

“mmh- so good, so fuckin’ good,” your whines continue to drag out, and you’re tasting treacly salted saliva on your rosé buds.

through your peripherals, you spot geto working his hips into you. you couldn’t help but take a glance at his snatched waist that’s just so slim. he’s swerving into you at full speed, creating 360 donuts with his sloppy hips as he accelerates. geto sucks in a sharp, smoky break as he continued to plummet into your cunt over ‘n over again until you’re cutely clinging onto the mirror for leverage.

“cute,” he clicks his tongue, lowering his darkened irises down the curving arch of your bent-over back. from behind you, you heard him whistling at your watch before spanking your ass. the glossy sweat that remained on your backside shines bright, brighter than any sun—creating a creeping glow in the sunlight from the cracked open curtain in the distance. “good girl. lie back. all ya gotta do is.. hah- lie back ‘n let me have my way with this sloppy-fuckin’-cunt.”

each malleable thrust gets enunciated with each hard whack against your pussy that makes your teeth jitter. you’re moaning, barely able to keep up with his zealously, agile pace before the slit tip of his cock diagonally slithers its way near your clit. milliseconds pass before you then start to feel his crowned tap-tap tapping against your bumpy cervix. it’s a mean tap, and your eyes crossed even further together with your tongue abjectly lolling out. “s- shit, that spot. that.. mngh- suguru!”

a handful of nerves swim their way into the bottom parts of your stomach before you whine. you’re panting continuously, gently shoved face first against the now fogged mirror that was in directly front of you. it’s steaming up because of your harsh, wheezing breaths before you squeal. it’s quick, but your legs end up collapsing and so does your entire body.

“ ‘m cummin’, fuck!” you yawp, gasping breathlessly at that sliiiight turn of his pivoting hips. geto’s cock runs all through you, kneading your cunt with each brutal thwack.

sweetened whimpers pour from your lips once you end up meeting your euphoric maker. “ugh- s.. suguru,” low, pulled lids of your eyes start to feel heavy as you struggle to keep them open. you’re pussy’s wetly squalling, letting off squelches as you smothered geto’s thick cock from swollen top to bottom with your slick essence. “f- fuck, spank m-”

“quiet, baby,” geto shushes you, a hand wrapping back around the base of your throat. with a swift slap of his roughened palm, he spanks you again anyway, and you purr out a cute ‘ooooh’ right away.

your tongue still sticks out against the reflecting steamed mirror. you’re so close to it that you’re nearly suffocating from your tepid, pants of breath washing back into your face. he’s still inside, feeling you weakly try to arch your ass up but your face slumps further against the glass. “aw, relax, sweetheart. i gotcha,” and as you’re still whimpering, geto pulls out his vermillion-colored tip.

he silently hisses at your dewy, wet grip, gazing at your dripping cunt that’s covered with sparkling white strands of your mess. groaning, he rubs his angered tip over your pussy in a greedy circle.

“mhm- keep goin’ suguru,” you’d frantically toss your hips around in a circle - begging, aching for him to fuck you against the mirror again. it’s even cute with how your ass did a wordless cute shake against his leaky tip, rubbing your very entrance over his sweltering, dewy-coated tip.

“god- such a fuckin’ slutty girl, can never say no to that preeeetty-shakin’-ass,” geto huffs, pausing between each word as his hand swipes against your tender feeling rear. still aroused, he grunts as his bulky cock twitches each time your skin jiggles against the sharp greeting contact.

geto flips you over with one beefy arm, tying his hair into a hurried slothful ponytail before cocking his head. “legs, raise ‘em for me, high baby,” and once you comply, geto hums, closing the distance between you and him by sliiiiding his way in between your raised legs.

in a husky voice, he smacks his plump tip against your pussy before biting your bottom lip while maintaining direct eye contact. “hah- that’s it, stretch those fuckin’ legs for sugu, sweetheart. and while you do thaaat,” geto grumbles, stealing a low-pitched moan from you once he delves a thick finger inside of your swallowing cunt.

“i gotta make her cream on me at least an extra four more times, heh..”

NANAMI ★ KENTO.

“like this, sweetheart?” nanami murmurs, grabbing a secure amount of hair to wholly fit into the coarse palm of his hand.

he’s gentle nonetheless, hearing your cute shallow breaths once his hips fatally stop. as you’re arched over a side of the bed, your wobbly hands piercing into the fat mattress. nanami’s unpredictable movements have you speechless, blinking thrice because who knew such a man was so nasty in bed?

of course—the only exception was his pretty wife, you. and nanami didn’t mind getting kinky for his beloved precious, even if you wanted to try something as vulgar as backshots..

he’s all the way inside you, not even moving an inch and yet it felt like he was already obliterating every part of your goopy, clamping walls.

“mhm- yeah. fuck me ‘n then just start pullin’ on it if i try to crawl away, ‘ken.” you moan, feeling that all too familiar thumping sensation arises between your quaking, sore thighs. near the very undersides, you felt the brief pants of tenderness lingering against your skin.

nanami tilts his head, shrugging out a complying, “alriiight,” and you gasp once he softly tightens the grip against your hair just a bit. “this okay? ‘m gonna start movin’ for you.“ earnestly impatient, you nod, and the blond tries to suppress a smile. already, he felt your cute body trying to wriggle away but as you said, he gently tugged you back by the hair. “anything for the kinky wife i guess. brace yourself though, honey. work’s been.. hah- rough.”

and when nanami fucks, he Fucks - capital F.

you’re holding back pitiful muffled moans as he pulls off his tie, softly stuffing it in your mouth. it’s tasteless - and you’re whimpering, feeling every stinging whack from his hips slam into your ass every three seconds.

nanami’s sweat-drenched fingertips caress both sides of your curvaceous hips—feeling all down your loving physique as he’s ferociously fucking into you at such a disrespectful speed.

every thrust was insanely languid, barely giving you time to gather up a thought in your dull, empty brain. “kento, ohmygoddd,” your voice timidly cracks, already drenching the end part of his thigh with your bubbly drool. he’s churning your insides through and through like one would churn a fresh batch of hot butter. and god- nanami’s just rocking into the rear of your ass like a boat that’s forever rickety. “harder.. pull it, baby, pull my fuckin’ hair.”

“yes, ma’am,” he raspingly responds, having the same firm grip on your hair. dozens of seconds later, a nice amount of your hair yanks back and your eyes cutely widen. you fall back and so do your hips, continuously and sloppily landing back against his hips. it’s still gentle nonetheless, but his hips were so cruel. you’d never get used to that heavenly stretch of his cock.

it’s mouthwatering, and you’re just melting at the sheer sounds of each bouncy slap! of balmy skin. nanami hears the cute bundle of gargled whines struggle to leave your throat once he grabs your hair, and he purrs. “mhm, liked that, sweetheart? should i pull again? can’t leave my woman all horny ‘n unsatisfied, hm?”

“mmph- pull.. hah- harder, ‘ken,” you nod, your words still a bit hushed and gagged from his work tie. the bed’s so unsteady, you were just it was gonna snap into two at any second. as he keeps up a decent rhythm, your jaw ends up dropping once his peachy tip greets your clit with a knocking slam. he hears another gasp slip from your lips before your ass lifts.

with another solid yank, nanami pulls a bit harder, and this time, he’s faintly snickering at how cute your body was - just slamming back into him like it already knew its territory. riiiight as his fattened tip makes itself known to your pretty, pulsating clit, you squeal out a bellowing yelp.

there!

like a q-tip, his rounded cockhead swaaaabs its way around your tightening entrance before the deep thrusts continue. your eyes were just bulging out each of their sockets, and you were speechless for a while before squealing out a cute, “ohmygu- ‘ken something’s coming. s- something’s coming kento.”

“i know, sweetheart,” he whispers, slowing his sloppy hits down but making sure that his thrusts remain deep deep deep. he studies your gyrating ass and how it flawlessly ricocheted against his skin. with each barbaric smack of your ass clashing into his pelvis, he feels both sweaty pounds of skin arise with blistering temperature.

but the last thing you’d expect was to gush right onto his cock, legs cutely twitching with a squalling whimper ripping out of your strained chords. the release was so sudden, that your eyes widened dramatically as your lips parted into a pretty bewildered ‘oh!’

the feeling was just so erogenous, and your entire body underneath his fell into jerking spasms. “my, oh myyy,” nanami gruffly murmured, still maintaining a gentle yet tight grip on the back of your head. soft, massaging fingers glissade down your scalp at his grasping hold before he feels your ass weakly writhing back into him. “messy girl, that’s it. make a mess for me, sweetheart. ‘s okay, let go.”

“u- ugh!” your brows curl, and your cunt was just dripping like a faucet - profusely. his tip stopped all types of movement, brushing against your convulsing clit as you kept gushing and he grunts. right there - right fuckin’ there.. he felt your pulse, relishing in the faint sloshing sounds that occurred between the stickiness of both fleshy thighs meshing against the skin. “fuck, fuck, fuuuck ‘ken.”

“ ‘y did so good,” nanami breathes, his wet tie drenched with your saliva flopping out past your lips. he pulls out, and his dick exits your watery pussy with a cute plap. the sheets were all soaked with your wetness and nanami’s panting, smearing his flesh-colored crown around your shriveling entrance. pulse after pulse, you’re still eager for him to get back inside despite how your entire body was shivering from your recent mind-boggling finish. “always loved myself a wet wife,” nanami softly smacks his veiny cock against your teary slit.

“the wetter the better, haah- darlin.’ let’s try that again,” and you whine, feeling his dick slap against your crying, wet pussy. with a click of his tongue, nanami lets off a deep, heavy sigh. “think she needs a bit more.. ah- velocity training.”

SUKUNA ★ RYŌMEN.

“heh- your smart mouth’s almost as annoying as your weak arch, little girl,” sukuna snickers, keen-witted canines briefly poking out his lips.

you’re moaning, letting off occasional pitchy swear words whilst getting absolutely destroyed by the king of curses himself. he always treated your pussy like an enemy — using his favorite technique, absolutely annihilating your g-spot.

the fleecy, thin straps of sukuna’s kimono tickled against your skin as he’s driving his thick cock deep into you with such rigorous might. hit after hit after hit, sukuna’s dick was just as angry as he was.

as you were whining, your voice was steadily forming raw and strained as those cute little ‘oooh’s!’ sweetly cried out from your dried voice box.

his tip’s got such a curve that makes your insides tingle. “oh….f- fuuuck,” you heave in a single sharp breath, feeling your tummy cowardly tuck its way inward. sukuna’s cock’s greedy, and each stroke makes your eyes bulge wider ‘n wider out of their sockets. he’s bottomed balls deep, and you could hear his animalistic pants bellow huskily from behind you. playfully, sukuna trails a claw down your back, watching you writhe at something as simple as his touch.

“ ‘m not gonna last, ‘kuna, s- so big, stretchin’ me so fuckin’ go—ah!” you whine, getting a face full of a fluffed pillow. he’s got an angle that makes you feel it all, every single inch pumping inside of your cunt—introducing itself against your pearled nub each passing second.

his hips were viciously vicious, and you’re just drooling from the cracks of your mouth at each girthy centimeter prying your insides open. “ughhh- don’t stop, f- fuck me. fu—”

“ahh,” sukuna tuts, and you whimper once his palm wetly spanks against your stuffed pussy. pasty, teary droplets briskly coat his hand before he rubs circles against your tender clit. with his hips securely pressed right up against your jerking ass, sukuna licks your ear. “you’ll get your turn to speak. but right now, she’s the star right now, not you. have some class, wet girl.”

as popping wet sloshes cry from the opened arc of your legs, and you feel sukuna’s forked tongue flick against your neck. “mmh- she’s so nasty, talk talk taaaalk. jus’ like her dumb fuckin’ owner..” sukuna brings your hips up with two hardened palms, making sure your face stays shoved deep into the mattress.

with a cute wiggle, your ass rewinds into him and he grunts at the immediate jiggle. with a loud, briefly stinging whack, he spanks you—hearing those cute ‘lil clamors leave your cracking throat before seconds later and he’s back to thrusting.

sukuna’s cock was dangerous - you already felt yourself getting more ‘n more stupid the harder his hips snapped into you. vehemently, his strokes turn languidly sloppy within seconds, and you mouth out a cute silent ‘ohmyfuckin’godddd!’ blood-shot eyes rove down your bouncing frame and how you were bent over just for him and only him. “mng- m’lord, there- there pleaaaase!”

“don’t know who’s louder,” the demon snarls under his breath in a tone dripping with amused mockery. he stares as your ass extends upward and you’re arched right over, face pathetically buried into his velveteen-made sheets.

every clashing pap of ridden skin never failed to echo through his chambers, and the gluey feeling of sticky, crashing thighs makes his fangs sharply nip into his lip. “mngh-” his dick swirls a shape-like motion all arooound your pussy, easing a secret pathway way into your cervix and you short circuit instantaneously.

sukuna huffs lowly, clawing more of his black whetted fingernails into the skin of your plush ass. “you or this fuckin’…hah- talkative pussy. can’t even hear myself think.”

“suh- suku-” you squeak, dumbing down from each second he spends battering his fat cock inside of you. your walls were tight, desperately clinging to him, clamping vigorously before popping out a cacophony of wet plops. your eyes were already rolled back, and your blocked vision met with a dark void of darkness. “ah-” you end up drooling, a stream of saliva starting to bubble from the corners of your twitching lips. sukuna’s deeeeep, nearly creating an unforgettable bulge with how he easily pushes his entire weight against your ass.

your mind’s completely empty . . but, you’re transported right back to reality once you hear a splitting crack of wood. as sukuna’s still driving his thick cock into your slobbering pussy like a madman, he hears that eerie ‘creeeeak’ sound.

it’s the headboard—and, within seconds, the bed awkwardly flops, and you heard the boxspring weakly snap from underneath. “ngh-” sukuna grunts, the both of you briefly collapsing from the bed calling quits to support the ridiculous weight. your release pauses as you pant, wondering what happened, and the curse just slyly snickers at you. “ ‘s all good. just a little bed break,” and you felt his forked, slimy tongue lick down your sweat-covered back. he huskily ‘ah’s’ once he allows his tongue to savor your natural taste before groaning.

his cock’s aching.. and the top of his cock’s flushing a pearly, shimmery color of velvet red. a thumb of his pulls a bit of lingering foreskin before he brings his crowned cockhead toward your pretty puckering hole. sukuna notices you trying to crane your head to look at your ass but he tsks, making you face back in front.

“turn that head back the fuck around. just because the bed broke doesn’t mean ‘m not done breakin’ this pussy too, little girl. now open up for me. goood girl.”

SATORU ★ GOJO.

“oh, oh- wait a minute, angel,” satoru pauses mid-thrust, pressing his naturally sculpted pelvis against your ass. you’re moaning once he wraps a smooth hand around your throat, bringing pink glossed lips toward the lobe of your ear. “are you cryinnn’?” and indeed, you were.

he’s been hitting you from the back so deep ‘n so good that you’re fighting back fat, glittery tears. they stick to your lashes, nearly blinding you with each flapping blink and you moaned for him to not stop - not now, not ever.

snickering smokily, satoru then starts to use his other hand to maneuver sloppy, wet shapes around your slippery, stuffed cunt.

“sooooo tender for me, hm?” and satoru’s lanky dick stretched you thin - wearing you thin with every long inch, causing your brows to cutely twist in rapture. “tsssk. can’t help but be emotional and wet for me, cute..”

“s- satoru, don’t stop- please,” your sweet pleads and begs instantly making his cock twitch inside of you. you shuddered, feeling a vein of his prod on his foreskin, nipping against your insides as he moved. satoru was so long, but even longer inside..

it’s probably been round after round, but you’re already salivating for more. his slim body was pushed right up against yours, and you felt the snowy, wooly hairs that were taped to his base drag all across his skin. he’s such a tease though. you could merely feel that annoying smug grin boring right into the back of your skull, despite how you weren’t even facing him. “ngh- finish.. fucking me.”

“oh! sounds like a demand, and y’know how i don’t like being given orders,” he hoarsely whispers, two rough hands pulling up your ass to create a deeper slope.

he’s in deep, idly massaging your clit with his tip not shifting at all. your wetness perfectly coats the entire thick base of his cock, and satoru could hear your pleading little squelches trying to sweet talk him at the same time too. “aw, is that back talk ‘m hearing?” and you whimper, hearing a slap sound between your legs.

satoru spanks your cunt - feeling you wriggle, desperately trying to rut back against him but he makes you halt. “ah- patience,” and your sweet whines fueled his ego oh-so-good. satoru’s slim waist sensually rocks against your ass, and you’re smacked by his rearing hips time ‘n time again. you’re probably so stupefied. your dripping tongue hung all out of your mouth as languid, airy pants roughly seized away from your lungs. “ ‘m gonna cum, satoru. you’re hittin’ that spot s- sooo good, mmg-”

“yeah, tell me how ya really feel,” and you gasp, feeling him push your knee into your chest. you’re still laid flat on your back, and now—he’s got an even deeper angle. his cock explores every part of your pussy, and that sticky grip on your ass makes him groan against your earlobe.

“think you just might have the strongest pussy, baby. grippin’ all… on me,” and as his voice deepens, maybe even quavering a bit from how sensitive he felt, satoru sucks sloppy kisses against your neck. “mhm- don’t think i can beat her. nope.. not when she’s being so fuckin’ hah- sloppy, shit.”

slosh after wetted slosh could be heard from between the open space of your legs and you’re whimpering. his tip’s constant thrashing so merciless - filthily showering your pearled nub with a kiss after pounding kiss until your legs were on the verge of snapping shut.

satoru’s closet pressed up against your bare rotating ass, grinding his washboard abs into your body and it just feels so hot. he swats a hand against your ass, intently sucking his teeth at the three-second jiggle before moaning lowly into your ear. “heh.. there’s that cute g-spot- i mean weak spot,” and with a rude collision—satoru’s thrusts slam into you at full impact, causing your brain to nearly hotwire.

it’s so abrupt that you didn’t even recognize your voice when your shrieking squeal came out. “mmph!” your eyes hugely bulge, and his cock’s stuffed soso many inches inside—sneaking a hand underneath your tummy just to feel you cutely heaving around his size. as you’re creaming down his hardened shaft.

sublimely, it stands tall inside of you and he heartily chuckles at your body’s retreating response. you’re shaking, barely being able to move your hips and your head ends up falling into the cushioned pillow with a soft thud. “s- satoru, don’t.. don’t stop,” and as your tongue remains lies flat down your lips, you put out a needy sob. “oh my go- hah- ‘m still.. cummin’.

“hm, okay,” satoru whispers, skipping a few warm fingers down your spine. you tense at his touch, and your back slightly raises before his dick loudly pops! it's way out of your sensitive pussy. trails ‘n trails of glistening, perspiring sweat paints down his pale frame before he flips you over. satoru treats you like a doll - a rag doll, and before you know it, you’re straddling on top of him.

with blurred, faded vision, you could see a cunning grin stretching across his pinkened lips before he aligns you. “ah, jus’ lie back against my chest, good girl,” he praises you, feeling your back recline against his ripped abdomen. you’re moaning, still shattering all rows of your teeth at your recent eye-rolling orgasm before satoru slings two arms underneath your legs.

you gasp, letting off a soft ‘oof!’ once he suddenly lifts you, openly gawking in awe at your creamy hole hovering over his crimson-shaded tip. “new position baby. ‘m gonna try usin’ infinity on this pretty cunt,” and you moaned, hearing a looooong stretch of his dick from behind you and you gulped.

was he-

satoru was making his cock longer, you didn’t even know he could do that but the anxious flutter between your thighs was almost embarrassing. your tummy steadily caves in ‘n out as you feel him starting to gradually sink into you.

attacking the left part of your neck with a barrage of wet, starving kisses—satoru hoarse grunts. “y’know what they say. eighth orgasm’s the charm, angel. now biiiiig fuckin’ stretch, lemme teach her how strong i can really get with a few extra inches, heh..”

TOJI ★ FUSHIGURO.

“c’mooon, pretty thing. let’s see that ass show me what it’s fuckin’ made of,” toji grunts, slightly tilting his right thigh up. he’s rude - hips far ruder though, and he’s just straight up plunging deep into your cervix until your tongue’s just sloppily hanging out your mouth.

with your lips wholly coated with a natural gloss of saliva, you’re damn near hysterical. he’s hitting you so deep, biting his lower lip each time your ass does that cute sticking smack right against his sharpened pelvis. toji’s washboard abs flex ‘n tense through his dingy white tank before he swats against your ass. “mhm- atta girl. entertain this dick girl, entertain- fuckin’- me.”

“mngh!” you squealed, your incoherent babble turning into muffles against the pillows in front of you. toji’s whole right-hand fits over your head and he lightly shoves your face into the mattress.

you’re whimpering, each rough slam into your rear sending staticky ringing through your ears. he’s so nasty, plowing into you with such lively horsepower that it makes you start to pant like a literal greyhound. “ ‘m gonna fuck, gonna fuckin’ cum, t- toooji.”

with a scoff, toji spanks your ass. “yeah? that’s nice.” his tone’s fuckin’ sly, he couldn't care less. your cunt’s so slippery, slickly gluing against his hairy base that piercingly pap! pap! paps! right into both twirling globes of your ass.

the sounds of repeated smacking flesh pitched louder and louder as both bodies rutted into each other. the bedroom filled with harmonies of rough slaps and groans, as well as your added whimper and whines from how good toji was plowing you into the shared king-sized bed. toji’s a menace when it came to his hips though.

he does this thing where he stuffs you all the way full with one single thrust….then pulls out… then back in…then back fuckin’ out..

“mhm- good…good, goooood,” his voice lowers, and so did his angle. toji’s cock had a bit of lean, lazy hook and it’s just sexy. it’s noticeable curve forever made itself known by just doing a single shimmy with his wide hips. from top to bottom of his cock that’s prodding with lightening shaped veins all over, he’s insanely big. “hah- look at that cute ass jus’ bouncin’ all on me. goddamn, babygi- fuck.”

toji even arched his back too, combing a few thickset fingers through his murky dark strands before feeling his dick swell up from the creamed top. he’s close, and with how good you were gripping around him, it wasn’t helping things much at all.

your insides were so gluey, sticking against him like pasty adhesive, determined to wring around him like the lewdest vice imaginable. “goddamn-” he groans, thin nostrils immediately flaring.

your pussy’s grip was ruthless - you squeezed and squeezed and squeezed, hearing toji’s grumbles huff underneath his breath. “ ‘m gonna make this tummy so nice ‘n plump,” he grouses, ravened brows curling together. vein after vein throbbing through his cock as he’s deepening his hits, giving the back of your tank top a firm grasp. you fall back into his cock at the pull, moaning and sweetly ‘ooh!’ ing at each jackhammering hit of his cock.

“mmgh- cum in me, toji,” you whimper, rocking your body against the dingy sage sheets with no shame. your body’s all slumped, humping against the bed with the front of your body as your right cheek pressed into the mattress.

toji’s buried to the very hilt, and his burning-up crown alone even started french kissing your cervix, dozens of times too. it’s indisputably sloppy, and you let off a gasp once you feel him swirling his stout tip alllll around your gummy insides, tap tap tapping against that beloved spongey texture. “don’t miss, f- fuck.”

“hah- with an arch like that, y’er askin’ for at quadruplets,” and his hips brutally snap into you. for a second, toji’s cock leaves you brain dead with the cause before his heavy, life-altering shaft. that exact spot that feels a bit bumpy, his tip rams against it and it scratches the left lobe of your brain so good. toji snickers, hearing you left off a pornographic ‘aaaah!�� at the abrupt discovered pressure. “ngh- better take it all then, don’t waste a fuckin’ drop, girl.”

it happens with such quickness—toji’s lowly growls, his husky orgasm sounding more like a gruff pitching battle cry. he’s slowing his hips before holding your wobbly hips in place. right as he’s cumming in you, toji’s burly body presses against your backside. you could feel him still grinding, although it’s a bit more weak.

“ugh- fillin’ you so well gotta getcha niiiice ‘n round f’m again. can’t leave my pretty mama without a.. hah- fill,” and it starts to pour deep inside. it oozes inside of your cunt, and it flows out so quickly that some even start to dribble down the crevices of your thighs. pretty, sloppy squelches could be heard from the occurring mess and toji dryly swallows. “mhm- she’s as nasty as you, babygirl. look at her swallowin’ it all up. so good.”

“tooooji,” you’d whimper, gasping once you felt a big thumb snail its way down your sopping pussy. wads of cum race down your thighs, and with a sloshing wet pop, toji pulls out his cock that was frothing from the velvet-reddened tip. he grunts, admiring your ass that still had itself raised, and he then leans down. toji inches his face toward your backside, using two wide hands to spread your ass apart.

“haaaah,” he pants against your dripping cunt, rolling out his tongue. you whimpered, clicking your teeth together once he starts to lap up the globs cum that was spilling down your thighs. it’s a loud sluuuurp! from toji’s mouth that gives you butterflies, but he then gives your clit a sweet munch with both pairs of lips.

toji rubs his lip scar against your pulsating cunt before snickering against your entrance, cleaning up his cum that glistened down your poor, aching slit that’s just so overflooded. “mhm- keep this arch, pretty girl. ‘m fuckin’ starved,” toji spits against your slick-covered heat before allowing the sheeny strings to land flat on his rolled out tongue.

“…and this cute pussy’s just askin’ to be devoured, heh..”

INO ★ TAKUMA.

“back… shots?” ino lets out a tremulous short breath, nearly drooling at the prurient sight of you arching over the armrest of the couch.

you were so breathtaking, even in such an erotic hunched-over position—face up ‘n pretty ass down. just to top it all off though, your pulled-to-the-side-panties that exposed your flooded dripping pussy only made things ten times worse. you even dared to sprightly throw your hips around in a circle, hearing a cute needy whine pull leave from ino’s lap. “o- okay, i can- i can do backshots.”

“don’t be scared, ino,” you hush in a sweet coaxing tone, your voice as smooth as silk. all types of warmth lingered on your tone. he’d probably cum just from listening to you speak if he wasn’t too careful. reaching a thumb from behind you, you drag a plump thumb down your puffed slit. soaked right away, ino watches before bringing the flushed crownhead of his cock towards your wet fluttering slit. it’s so wet—just aptly pouring with syrupy slick from the sides, the corners, hell- even the inner wet crevices…

ino felt his heart pounding, and he was holding back a moan once his plump cockhead swirls a circle around your swallowing entrance. you moan, arching more before humming. “mhm- like that. now fuck me, baby. fuck m-”

and oh- he does.

ino was a very quick learner because, within no time, you found yourself arched right over with his capped tip being greedily swallowed by your famished entrance.

ino’s so frantic - and it’s almost cute how he had no literal rhythm. he’s getting lost in your pussy—but after a few sloppy starting thrusts, he surprisingly locates every tender spot like it's nothing. you shudder as your hips start to rise, feeling a few wet droplets splat against your arched backside and oh, he’s really drooling now..

his breaths turn from steady to heavy within seconds, and he’s just hypnotized at how pretty your cunt took in all the turgid inches of his shaft. “s- sorry, can’t help it,” he meekly apologizes, wiping a hairy arm over his spit-glossed lips. his hands awkwardly grip your ass before you feel him swipe a slender digit toward your neglected hole.

“oooh,” he whimpers to himself, plugging it with the entirety of his stubby thumb. with his buttoned nose cutely wrinkling at the sensations of being full from both orifices, you whine out his name thrice. sweet repeated chants of ‘ino!’ ‘inooo!’ or ‘iiii-noooo!’ and it’s so melodic to ino, in a salacious way at least.

your cunt dewily clenches at him toying with your slick hole, and he pulls out his thumb before groaning. “god- ‘s no fair, baby,” and he’s still clinging onto your bouncing hips, staring as your ass starts to fuck back into him. speaking of toys, he couldn’t help but moan at how you rewinded your hips back into him oh-so perfectly.

it was like your entire waist was controlled, and ino’s grabbing at the plump cheeks of your ass at every moment he could. the slaps of skin were so loud, and they echoed through every cornering wall in the dimly lit bedroom. “don’t even…hah- know what ‘ta do with all this ass. phew- think ‘m gonna… faint.”

“don’t be dramatic, ino,” you skewed your hips around his cock, swallowing in a deep breath at the overly thick tummy-tucking stretch that surprises your pussy. he’s just big - rummaging through every important part of your guts before slap! you’re met with a stony coarse wham that makes your tongue flop out on his own. “f- fuck, right there. keep hittin’ that spot, oh- fuck!”

ino’s already in love��� and, your hips were a smooth talker, if anything.

the way you moved and perfectly corresponded to him, he’s getting teary. it feels so damn good, the familiar tightening of his balls makes him nearly choke on an incoming exhale as he watches you throw back against him.

it was almost comical—you wanted to try backshots, and ino could barely keep up with your pace because technically speaking, you were fucking him. “god- baby, ‘m gonna cum. can’t.. can’t hold it, lemme finish inside pleaseplease,” and as he’s babbling, you could hear him sniffling.

your pussy was so good that it had him choking on his own words, stammering clumsily over every whiny syllable. ino’s hands never leave your hips, and he swats a few palms at your doughy ass that jerks right into him before sighing. you’re so stuffed already, but the thought of him dumping such a hot, buttery batch of cum inside you had you humming in longing contempt. “mhm- tell me, baby. your pussy’s gonna f- fuckin’ kill me, hah-”

“insiiiide, do it,” you whine, slightly raising your hips. god- the view, your slick twitching cunt had ino hearing his whole heartbeat through his ears. he was damn near mesmerized, and his tip was just weeping at the constant tender rubbing it was creating against your clit. your entrance slicked against him like velcro, and ino’s jaw was already clenching at the clingy sensation.

with of few more pops of his weak hips, ino eventually does cum - and it’s a lot.

a knot of, gooey fresh cum shoots right into you, quickly traveling through your insides. ino whines way louder than you, and he falls flat against your back. “ugh- baby,” he grunts, his voice cracking as soon as he falls into your embrace. it’s hot, and you moan once he continues to spurt thin ribbons straight deep into your womb. timid, soppily hands suffered with insane amounts of sweat before you felt his palms all around your body. even with ino still rawly pumping into you, he’s running his hands up and down the curvature of your waist—stopping at your ass, his favorite.

squelches ‘n squelches galore..

his softened cock remained plugging you full with all of its might—feeling your dribbling cunt tighten around the entirety of his length. it takes him a good while before he’s finally emptied his entire load, giving himself a subtle shake to make sure it’s all deep inside of you. “good boy,” you quietly hum, rolling over, swiping a thumb down your flooded cunt. ino pants, flopping onto your chest and he looks so in love. his face was flushing the more he deeply stared at you, and your eyes widened once you realized ino’s slowly pushing the crowns of your knees up to your chest. “hah- ino?”

“ ‘m not done,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a sweet, chaste kiss against your quivering lips. he moans at the soft prod of your tongue brushing against his before his pearly-colored tip whacks against your pussy that’s still spitting out tiny clumps of his cum.

“one more round. need t- to claim these walls before i claim your heart first, baby.”

[fakevalentine]

pls write about sevika eating ass🙏 and happy holidays!!! :D

cw ! good old ass eating. fanart by ribbedtank on twt <3

sevika is an ass woman. she loves ass, big or small she loves it all. of course, boobs are great, but watching all that flesh bounce and redden under her hand was just completely incomparable.

and when you come strolling out of the bathroom in that ridiculous white and red santa lingerie that barely covered anything, well... she was already ready to shove your face in the mattress, but when your turned around...

oh.

her eyes locked on how the thin fabric of your panties disappear between your asscheeks, emphasising your body that made her almost drool. and she's on you before you can say merry christmas.

face down, ass up... as usual, sevika lapping at you from behind. all you can really do is whine and moan into the sheets, your santa hat falling off and the lingerie still on, just your thong pulled to the side for your woman.

her big hands engulf your ass, spreading you open and landing a glob of spit on your hole, watching it dribble down and into your pussy with a proud smile.

she leans back down to catch the line of spit, following it back up to your ass and slowly tracing the ring of muscle with her tongue. you don't really understand the fascination she has with your butt, but you don't exactly complain about it either.

you're always bent over, or she's casually groping or smacking it, edging towards it when she eats you out— you can't stop her, and you've learned that it feels way better than you thought it would.

she slurps and sucks at your asshole, her thumb finding your clit and rubbing in slow circles to match her tongue. you tremble a little from the dual stimulation, grabbing the sheets under you as you pant. "s-sevika.."

she hums, keeping you still while her tongue massages and rubs against you, groaning as she feels you clench against her tongue. she reluctantly pulls away, still circling your clit. she takes in your glistening holes on display, and suddenly she's never been happier.

her gaze then wanders over to your face, half of it smushed against the bed and your eyes squeezed shut. cute.

sevika eats ass i said so.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ taglist !

@danfelog @fortluocha @ocharavitys @uhh-lana @amastarxoxo @pearlcigs @abbyspup @sunrxxyz @inui-ii @chaostudi

[lidiasloca]

despite the hatred, despite the love

azriel x reader

summary: the inner circle atends Helion's party to meet his new second in command, and while she seems to be just a beautiful girl, the hatred that Azriel feels for her and displays for everyone to see isn't bought by his brother, who will soon find out there is something more than hate between them... maybe even love.

Helion’s speech was at its end, and yet… no sight of Y/N.

Azriel shifted on his feet, scanning the party room. Cassian noticed and walked over to his brother, ready to try to break through his enigmatic demeanor—or laugh at him. Both worked for the Illyrian warrior.

“Who are you looking for, Az?” He clasped a hand on his tense shoulder, making him step forward to balance himself, both from the force of the gesture and from the disruption of the bubble he had been isolating himself in.

Azriel coughed. “No one.”

Cassian didn’t buy it—not one bit. But he knew there was no way of getting through Azriel’s thoughts unless it came willingly from him.

So he changed the subject. “Y/N. I’ve heard she’s quite the beauty.” Azriel quickly turned to face him.

“What?”Cass laughed. “If she’s being promoted to second-in-command—Helion’s second-in-command—she must be incredibly beautiful.”

“Maybe it’s not about her beauty. Maybe it’s because she’s simply good at politics,” Azriel explained plainly.

“Azriel,” Cassian snapped between chuckles. “It’s Helion we’re talking about.”

As if summoned, the High Lord of the Day Court appeared, a cocky grin on his face. “I wasn’t aware my favorite Illyrian warriors were fond of gossip.”

“We’re not,” Azriel hissed.

Helion’s smile only grew, eyeing his favorite male in the room. “Someone’s ruder than usual—it turns me on, not going to lie.”

“Is there anything that doesn’t turn you on?” Cassian inquired, making Helion finally detach his eyes from the handsome Shadowsinger.

The Lord of Bloodshed wasn’t a bad sight either. Not at all.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Helion, will you stop looking at me as if I were food? I enjoyed it some years ago, but now, let me tell you… it makes me feel a bit objectified.”

At that, Azriel finally turned his full attention to them, a faint smile playing on his amused face.

The High Lord huffed a laugh. “Well, let me tell you, Commander, I wouldn’t even notice you, had my beautiful second-in-command gifted us with her ethereal presence.”

Cassian’s eyes sought his brother’s, silently saying, I told you so.

But he didn’t find them. The Shadowsinger was looking elsewhere. Looking at someone else.

Cassian’s lips parted in surprise when he found what his brother beheld.

“Exactly,” Helion beamed, following their eyes to the girl walking down the stairs. “Y/N.”

Azriel was the most lost of them all. If anyone asked, he’d justify his piercing stare, his fixated gaze, his slightly parted lips, and the subtle tremor of his jaw as part of his skills—his excruciatingly detailed memory, trained to notice every nuance.

The way her midnight-blue dress flowed.

The graceful curve of her creamy neck, rising and falling with each breath.

Her lips parting. 

Her eyes shifting—watching there, glancing here, and finally meeting his.

Azriel’s gaze locked with hers.

For a moment, it was just the two of them in the room as Y/N walked toward your High Lord, still not looking away.

“Hello, beautiful. Over here,” Helion called, making her look. 

And she was back in reality. At this party. With people all around, not only Azriel.

“Hello,” Y/N smiled, moving to facilitate the kiss Helion placed on her cheek. She caught a glance of Azriel’s dangerous eyes, following every move the High Lord made.

“Congratulations, my darling,” Helion said, patting her shoulder.

She nodded in thanks, now noticing the other male around you.

“I’m Cassian,” he said. “Commander of Rhysand’s armies.” He gestured with his chin to a male talking to some people not too far away—his High Lord.

She met his eyes again. “I’m Y/N, spymast—” She cut herself off, quickly realizing. “Second-in-command of the Day Court.”

“Well, that I know,” Cassian laughed. “That’s what this party is all about.”

Flush rose on her cheeks, and she added, if only to make them forget how stupidly she was behaving, “Didn’t Helion tell you this was just another one of his excuses to have a party?”

At that, Helion placed a gentle hand on your waist, pinching.

He and Cassian laughed. Azriel didn’t, glaring at the hand now falling to Y/N's waist.

“No, he didn’t,” the spymaster cut in. “Maybe he was too busy being under the sheets with his second-in-command.”

Y/N's breath caught, and Helion stilled at the murderous tone.

Her eyes blazed with fire, piercing through the Shadowsinger. Were it not for her learned diplomacy, she might have leaped toward him without hesitation.

“Azriel,” Cassian warned—even he was surprised.

“It’s okay,” Y/N said, venom lacing her words. “He’s probably bitter I got promoted, and he has to continue killing and torturing for a living.”

Then silence. Cassian and Helion stared silently, conscious of the tension.

“Y/N!” The High Lady appeared at her side, linking elbows with her High Lord.

Saved by the bell.

Y/N's eyes still glared at the Shadowsinger as she greeted her back. Now everyone’s eyes were on the two.

“So…” Rhysand gulped, his eyes darting between Y/N and Azriel. “What have we missed?”

“Nothing new,” Helion said.

“Oh,” Cassian breathed, putting the pieces together. “So you already knew each other?”

Azriel was silent, so Y/N made herself speak. “Back from when we both were spymasters. We ran into each other often enough that we started getting to know one another.”

It didn’t go unnoticed—the long glance Y/N aimed at Azriel.

He didn’t meet your eyes, though, and she knew very well why. The guilt in his eyes told you all her needed to know.

Good—let him feel bad.

“I didn’t know,” Rhysand spoke, trying to catch an explanation through Azriel’s face. “It would’ve been useful to know…”

Y/N didn’t have to ask him to finish the sentence to read between the lines.

It would’ve been useful to know that he and Y/N knew each other so he could ask her to handle the mission instead of him.

The mission that Azriel refused to let her take part in, even though Y/N could have completed it more easily, living here as she did.

The mission that he had to complete tomorrow. The true reason why he was here today.

The mission that could get him killed.

Azriel snapped his eyes to hers, hurt and hatred—a thin line his face seemed to confuse.

Y/N sent every bit of your hurt back to him. 

“You surely know by now, High Lord, that Azriel likes to keep a lot of information to himself. Sometimes I even wonder if that’s his actual name… Azriel.”

Azriel met her eyes at last, and the fire that burned in them was nothing short of scary. 

Then, without a word, the spymaster turned and walked away.

Y/N watched each step he took as the others watched her in shock.

One step, another, and another. 

Once she realized he truly wasn’t going to turn back to her, she started walking after him, anger becoming the force that pushed the girl forward. 

Once Y/N and Azriel were both out of sight, Cassian drew a breath. “Well—that was something.”

“I’ve never seen Azriel… like this,” Feyre said.

Rhysand’s eyes were on Helion, though, trying to figure out what his knowing smile meant. 

“Pray to tell, High Lord.” His tone was command enough for Helion to stare, think, and then chuckle.

“These two,” he breathed, a faint smile on his lips. “I don’t know much. Y/N doesn’t say much. But the other times I’ve seen them together… let me tell you, you never know if they’re going to kiss or kill each other.”

Feyre eyed him in confusion. “What happened between them?”

Helion shrugged his shoulders, daring a look in Cassian’s direction, smirking at him as if there was something else about it.

The general’s smirk was a full sentence in itself.

… 

The night chill welcomed Cassian onto the terrace, along with the nod Helion gave him.

This way, his eyes seemed to say in the dark.

Cassian let him lead, despite the winning grin on the High Lord’s face that set him on edge.

But curiosity overthrew his pride. Azriel and that girl, Y/N… he had to know what exactly that glazed look in Azriel’s eyes meant.

While it may have seemed like hatred at first sight, Cassian knew better about that type of flame in someone’s eyes.

So here he was, silently walking to the wall where Helion had stopped, peeking to see what Cassian finally saw when he approached him.

“Hide,” Helion hissed, but the general was too lost in the scene unfolding in front of him.

Thanks to his faerie senses, Cassian could make out the conversation between his brother and…

Y/N.

“That doesn’t give you any right to insult me,” she told Azriel, and though he was turned away, Cassian could gather enough of his reaction from his dropped shoulders and wings, as if the forever-composed spymaster was about to crumble to the ground.

“I was angry.” Cassian almost didn’t recognize the faint voice that slipped past his brother’s lips. “And you… you were letting him touch you like—”

“Like what?!” Y/N yelled, taking a valiant step toward Azriel, daring him to make the killing blow.

But his brother knew better.

“I’m sorry,” was what he said instead, and Cassian let out a relieved breath—the scene felt oddly familiar to him.

Fighting with the one you loved was the fight a true warrior wasn’t prepared for, Cassian thought.

But was Y/N the one Azriel loved?

His brother had said nothing about it. Cassian had never seen them together. He had never truly heard of her… she couldn’t be. They… hated each other. 

Yet—there was something in the way she looked at him. Hate, one might think.

Longing, Cassian thought.

Completely out of his mind, Cassian took a step toward them, dismissing Helion’s warning.

Careful step after step, the general approached them and only stopped when he saw it. The proof.

Y/N raised a trembling hand to Azriel’s face, angling his head delicately at her will.

Cassian had the feeling that if it were her will, Azriel would even jump off the balcony.

The general stood rigidly, watching as she slowly pulled him down—a command, a permission, and a request all at the same time.

But he quickly noticed a sneaky shadow make its way to his brother’s ear as he leaned down.

The Shadowsinger’s head turned instantly to Cassian, who watched them incredulously. Y/N turned too, her face showing pure shock, but she was looking elsewhere.

Cassian turned behind him to find, not only Helion, but also his High Lord and High Lady—watching the scene with open mouths.

Not even a heartbeat later, quick as a blink, Azriel turned to Y/N, and Cassian could have sworn a wave of understanding washed over her eyes before they pierced angrily at the the Shadowsinger.

Then she slapped him.

to be continued...

-Charcaters by Sarah J Maas

azriel masterlist

BASED ON THIS REQUEST

a/n: i LOVE this idea so much, and i thank you, anon, for requesting it. i had trouble, yet so much fun sorting out this fic, and i am so excited to write the following parts. hope you liked it!!

[nickel156]

All of these lines, while romantic on the surface, fall flat when paired with Cassian’s actions. Words alone don’t create a healthy relationship, and Cassian’s behavior repeatedly contradicts the sentiments behind these statements. He’s complicit in Nesta’s mistreatment by the Inner Circle, standing by as Rhysand and others insult her, isolate her, and strip her of agency. He does nothing to advocate for her, despite claiming to care about her deeply. Instead, he enables their toxic behavior, further exacerbating Nesta’s pain.

Beyond that, his actions are anything but supportive. He ignores her clear cries for help, dismissing her self-destructive coping mechanisms like drinking and isolation as personal failings rather than signs of deep trauma. Instead of helping her heal, he pushes her into situations that are physically and emotionally harmful, like the infamous hike. Rather than recognizing her visible distress and giving her space to process, he imposes his own idea of “help” on her, forcing her to confront her demons in ways that feel like punishment rather than healing.

Even his “romantic” words often center on how Nesta fits into his life or how much he endures for her, not on her actual needs or feelings. They feel more like a justification for his presence in her life than genuine love or understanding. He constantly pressures her to adapt to his world, his family, and his expectations, rather than meeting her where she is or working to understand her perspective. His supposed devotion becomes conditional, hinging on Nesta’s ability to fit into his life and become someone he can comfortably love.

The problem is that poetic phrases can’t erase the damage caused by neglect, emotional manipulation, and complicit behavior. It’s easy to say, “There will be no one else,” but actions speak louder than words. Cassian’s actions show a man who prioritizes his ego and comfort over Nesta’s well-being. Thankfully, more and more people are beginning to see through the façade of romantic gestures and recognize their dynamic for what it truly is: unhealthy, toxic, and built on a foundation of power imbalances and unresolved trauma. Nesta deserves better, and no amount of flowery language can change that.

You can't love Cassian if you love Nesta.

Ok I’m usually president of the let’s criticize Cassian club but things have gotten wild the last few days and we are almost at Cassian week and I relate to Nesta because no matter what that dumbass does there just is … SOMETHING ABOUT HIM

So.

Cassian did not say I love You (a travesty), but he did say (or think)

“His very heart was in his bloody, outstretched hand.”

“If Briallyn made a move against Nesta, he’d kill the queen himself.”

“Whatever you need to throw at me, I can take it. I won’t break.”

“I’ll take whatever you offer me.”

“Whatever you want. Whatever you need from me.”

“I’ve needed you from the moment I first met you.”

“I’m Here.”

“There is nothing broken to be fixed.”

“I have always been your friend, Nesta. Always.”

“You’re not going to use her”

“Love is Complicated.”

“Nesta’s mother had wanted a prince for her. Cassian now thought she had undervalued her daughter. Only a King or an emperor would do.”

“Do you want some peppermint tea?”

“I went back the next day. Asked the musicians of the Hewn City to play it all again for me.”

“There will be no one else. For either of us.”

“The only thing that frightened him was that she might reject the mating bond. Hate him for it.”

“You’ve had me from the moment you met me.”

“He’d never stop being in awe of her.”

[hoe4hotchner]

Not worth the tears | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader | WC: 1.6k  | CW: Angst, no use of Y/N, mention of cheating, reader was dating a man, crying.| Summary: reader got cheated on - Hotch is there to pick up the pieces

The weight of your phone felt heavier than it should have in your hand as you stared at the screen. The text was still there, glaring at you, a brief, emotionless exchange that had just ended your relationship. You couldn't feel much, not at first. There was shock, a numbness that spread through your body like ice. Your partner had cheated— of all things he had cheated. And it wasn’t even a messy confession or an argument where the truth slipped out. It had been revealed so casually like it didn’t matter.

Your thumbs had moved faster than your brain, sending a few bitter replies before cutting off contact completely. Now, you sat alone at your desk, a dull ache blooming in your chest, your breath shallow. He had taken all the air out of your lungs and drained every bit of hope you had put into him. The thought circled through your mind—I tried. I tried for him. I gave everything, but it wasn’t enough.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly. The words blurred on the screen, and you blinked back the tears clouding your vision. That was it. It was over. You stared at the empty chat thread—his response was short, dismissive, almost as if what had happened didn’t matter. As if you didn’t matter.

You rubbed your hands over your face, trying to swallow the knot in your throat. You were supposed to be working—on a case, of all things—but the walls of the BAU felt tighter than ever. The world outside of this room, outside of the text that had wrecked your day, seemed far away.

As you leaned back in your chair, your thoughts spun—how long had it been going on? Did the moments you’d spent together mean anything at all? The memories felt tainted now, like ink smeared across a once beautiful piece of art. You'd done everything right. You tried to make it work. But it was over. And it was time to face that truth, even though it burned.

It felt like a punch to the gut, that revelation. He had betrayed you in the worst way possible, and all you got in return was a half-hearted apology and an empty text saying it wasn’t a big deal. You should’ve seen it coming, right? But you’d held on, hoping that things could change, that he could change, despite the cracks that had started to show months ago.

The pain was suffocating. You stood up from your desk, pacing the room, trying to shake off the weight pressing down on your chest. But it wasn’t going away. It was just getting worse. You'd loved him, believed in him, and he tossed you aside like you were nothing. He'd broken you in ways you never thought possible, and now you had to pick up the pieces.

Again.

Your thoughts spiraled as you stared out of the window, lost in a haze of disbelief and hurt. You wanted to scream, to throw something, anything, to just feel something other than this emptiness inside. The room felt too small, too confining, and your heart ached like it was splitting in two. Maybe it was. Maybe that’s what happens when you give someone everything, and they rip it all apart.

The glass door into the BAU creaked open, and Hotch’s presence filled the room before you could even look up. He stepped inside, his brow furrowed, as usual, a file in hand. His eyes scanned over you, a practiced intensity in them, as though he was ready to talk about whatever work issue had brought him here. But then, he stopped.

“Are you okay?” Hotch asked, his voice soft but carrying that steady authority. It wasn’t a question he asked often, and when he did, it was because he already knew the answer. He had this way of reading people—of reading you—like any of the case files that came across his desk.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, brushing a hand through your hair as you shook your head. You forced a weak smile, but your throat tightened, betraying the façade. “It’s nothing, Hotch. Just… work stress.” You waved a hand dismissively. But the lie tasted bitter on your tongue. The raw emotion in your voice gave you away, and you knew Hotch could see it. He always could.

He stood there, watching you closely, then set the file down on your desk without a word. It was the first time you'd seen him hesitate. “Something’s wrong. Talk to me.”

You wanted to hide it, to shove the pain down and pretend like you hadn’t just lost someone who wasn’t even worth the heartbreak. But this was Hotch—someone you trusted more than anyone. Your lips parted, and the words came tumbling out before you could stop them.

You felt your walls crumbling, the mask you’d tried to wear falling away as the weight of everything hit you all at once. Your chest tightened, and you tried to hold it in, but the pain surged forward, unstoppable.

“I broke up with him,” you said, your voice trembling. “He… he cheated on me.”

Hotch’s entire body went still. His expression, once concerned, darkened with something else entirely. His jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. It was as though he was holding back from storming out and finding the man who had hurt you. “He what?”

You nodded, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “I tried, Hotch. I really tried. I wanted it to work, but… it’s over. He didn’t even care.”

The room was heavy with the weight of your admission. You had never seen Hotch angry like this—at least, not for something personal. His dark eyes were clouded, and the controlled, calm leader of the BAU was nowhere to be found. But then, just as quickly as it had come, the anger softened, replaced by something much gentler, much deeper. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush the tears from your cheeks, his touch soft, careful, as if you might break at any moment.

“Did he tell you? Or did you find out another way?”

The look in his eyes was enough to make you swallow thickly. It was protective, fierce, as though he was barely keeping himself together. You hadn’t known it then, but Hotch loved you. And the idea of someone hurting you, betraying you, was enough to make him want to hunt down the bastard who had done it.

“He told me,” you muttered, looking down at your lap. “Like it was nothing. Like I didn’t matter.”

Hotch inhaled sharply through his nose, his hands flexing. For a moment, you could tell he was fighting the urge to walk out and do something rash, something you knew he would regret.

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly, and there was something deeper in his voice, something that made your heart skip a beat. “You didn’t deserve that,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place. “He didn’t deserve you.”

You sniffed, wiping at your face as you tried to pull yourself together. “I just… I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Hotch shook his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” his voice was firm. He moved to sit beside you, his presence somehow grounding in all the chaos that had filled your head. “This is on him. Not you.”

The conviction in his voice made your breath hitch. You stared at him, taking in the intensity of his gaze, the way he looked at you as if you were the most important thing in the world. Your heart twisted painfully. You had never seen him like this before.

“He wasn’t worth your time,” Hotch continued, his tone softening even more. “You deserve someone who will fight for you, someone who will never hurt you like that.”

You could feel yourself breaking down again, the tears coming back, and you didn’t fight them this time. You didn’t have the strength to. Instead, you let yourself fall, collapsing into Hotch’s arms as he caught you without hesitation. He pulled you close, holding you tightly against his chest, his hand stroking your back in soothing circles.

For the first time all day, you felt safe. The ache in your heart hadn’t gone away, but being here, with Hotch, made it bearable. He didn’t say anything more, just held you, and somehow, that was enough.

For a few moments, neither of you said anything. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, and he seemed to understand that you needed the silence.

“I wanted it to work,” you whispered between sobs. “I really wanted it to work.”

“I know,” he said softly, his hand soothing as he rubbed slow circles on your back. “You deserve so much more than what he gave you.”

As he held you, a thought crossed your mind—Hotch had always been there. He had always cared, always looked out for you. And as he held you now, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek, you wondered if maybe he had cared more than you’d realized.

You lifted your head slightly, meeting his gaze. There was something in his eyes, something soft and warm, but it wasn’t pity. It was deeper than that. It was understanding. It was… love.

You blinked, trying to process the moment, but the sadness and exhaustion weighed you down too much to explore it further. Instead, you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. Hotch didn’t hesitate.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure why.

Hotch shook his head, his expression tender. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, and for a moment, the world didn’t feel so broken. In his arms, you could breathe again, and maybe—just maybe—your heart wasn’t beyond repair after all.

Because even though everything had fallen apart, Hotch was there to help you pick up the pieces. And this time, you weren’t alone.

[satorurize]

18+, Satoru and Fem!Reader, reader has a flu and satoru is horny asf, creampie, spooning sex, i can't write anything but vanilla sorry :D

People would generally avoid getting too close to sick people, be grossed out, but not your boyfriend, Satoru. If anything, he turned even more clingy and touchy especially when you were sick.

Satoru feels bad for getting turned on while you're sick, stuffy nose and coarse throat, but he really can't help it when he sees you letting out cute moans as you are making your futile attempts to breathe properly. Or perhaps it's the way you have not been wearing any bras underneath your sweaters, the peaks formed by your pebbled nipples underneath the fabric leaves so much to his imagination and he can't help it but feel his pants get unbearingly tight.

He insists on making you the little spoon to keep you warm, going against any fight you put up saying that he'll get sick too. "Me and sickness? Baby that's like south and south of a magnet, just let me warm you up.."

You don't know what sorcerery Satoru does but he manages to get you in the mood by cooing in your ears, nuzzling his nose at the side of your face while the icy tips of his fingers draw patterns on your belly making your feverish body feel like it was ablaze. "Toru please...more.." you cloy and he feels nothing but accomplishments with how much more whinier you sound from the flu, he smiles dimpled, tooth to tooth.

"I've gotchu baby..patience..gonna make you feel real good" without much warning he slips his fingers inside your panties, a synchronised moan fell out from either of your lips, Satoru felt so connected with you even as he drew generous circles on your clit, letting his fingers gather all your nectared sweetness.

He had his fair share of teasing you in the bedroom when you weren't sick, but now that his baby was dependent on him, even just a little, he wanted to give you all, even the most scorching aspect of his love for you. It was beyond logic to understand why he felt this way just because you were sick.

Satoru slowly but unsparingly pumped his fingers into your heat, his hard on unapologetically pressed against the swell of your ass, which he slowly but surely started grinding against you. You with your eager hands couldn't wait any longer, fumbling single handedly with his trousers to take his cock out, your beloved let out a throaty laugh at your avidity, aiding you by pulling it out and discarding his pants away.

He pulled you in roughly, with a playful raspberry blown on your neck. You were onto peeling off your sweater the moment your boyfriend was completely bare, but he held you down, sneaking his one hand underneath your sweater, pinching and flicking your sensitive nipples while his other held his cock, teasing his angry leaky tip onto your glistening folds as you both spooned.

"Don't you dare take that sweater off baby.. you're so fucking hot in that.."

He bottomed out slowly with a soft grunt, holding your body so impossibly close that even merging together felt distant. He fucks you steady and slow, restraining himself from being frantic and each thrust makes you blissfully feel every inch of him, you're a teary, moaning mess and it was exactly what he wanted to achieve.

He presses you down with all his weight, snaking his arm to entangle his fingers with yours, confining your hand tightly against the mattress. Meanwhile, Satoru is on cloud nine, with the aggrevated warmth of your body, the building balmy environment in your bedroom and the way you were squeezing him.

"Fuck yeah baby...keep doing that, gonna fill this pretty cunt up.." He whines and you nod frenzied from the pleasure, reaching your hand to rub rapid circles on your puffy clit—his moans becoming high pitched indicative of his orgasm.

It only takes a second or two after that he cums, releasing his thick ropey ejaculate in your womb and you clench with an orgasm of your own at the sensation of being filled up, milking every last drop.

He pants with a euphoric grin at your fucked out face, nibbling gently on your cheek before he connects your lips in a tender kiss. He keeps rutting his hips into you, seeing how you are oozing out his cum stuffed in you and it makes him rock hard all over again.

And he didn't mind at all waking up with a fever and a stuffy nose the next morning himself.

[ivesambrose]

Pick a pile : 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 ❄️

A little gift as the year comes to a close. I intend that this winter brings you what you're looking for 🤍

More timeless readings here

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Picture 1

• You'll be confronting your shadows (habits and doubts) that hold you back and emerge stronger. It's a blessing to master your impulses rather than be consumed by them.

• You'll be able to outsmart people trying to sabotage or trick you.

• Moments of joy and celebration with people you know and trust rather than having to be around people you don't out of obligation.

• Some of you might even be able to be sober or cut out an unhealthy addiction or attachment around this time. Please be kind towards yourself and celebrate your wins.

• You'll have the necessary tools and resources to bring what you want in your life. This means, if you think that you're falling short of something, it's not true. Think again, you'll always be provided for, stealth opportunities will always arrive, solutions will always be presented, you also likely have the skill required for XYZ etc.

• Very niche blessing, but if some of you were struggling with hair issues, this will get better. Expect healthier hair regardless of whatever length you're going for.

• Some of you will also be blessed with better colleagues or social circles/network.

• Look out for messages in your dreams or any 'hunches' that you get.

• There's also a message I'm getting to expand your horizons, don't confine yourself because you're used to it.

Picture 2

• The comfort you've been seeking? It's here. Some of you may have also be seeking a new home or a place that feels like one, it's all coming.

• An absolute boost in your finances and resources. Some of you might also get a high paying work from home job or something involving houses etc or your own business that will be successful wherever you decide to run it from.

• Wisdom and clarity in your intuition will guide you the most. You'll be blessed in making decisions quickly and effectively. You'll also feel a lot more authoritative in your life. You'll also be able to switch off external noise, retreat and be content with yourself and your inner knowing.

• Blessings of steady progress and tangible results. Whatever efforts you've put in and continue to put in this season will lead to substantial accomplishment in the coming 8-9 months. It will be a very visible progress.

• You'll be blessed with something that makes you rather excited even if it seems like a lot of work is required in it you'll be more than happy to do it. Some of you may also be preparing to travel. I'm also seeing peace, prosperity and a sense of balance coming out of said travelling.

• It seems like during Autumn season some of you diligently 'locked in' be it in your mindset or anything that you believed in and this winter is bringing you the results.

Picture 3

• You'll be blessed with moments of pure joy and happiness. Maybe in the beginning it might even feel difficult to process an emotion this lovely but it will start becoming your new normal. Promise yourself to strive for the same.

• You'll have recognition and acknowledgement even for the small wins. It will flow in easier for you. Whether it's a compliment or a thank you or a simple celebration. You'll feel appreciated. And you deserve it!

• Your smaller wins will accumulate into bigger ones. You may also get a lumpsum of money or something tangible out of the blue.

• Balance will come to you naturally. Be it your personal and professional life or your own physical health etc. you won't feel like you're always on the edge of tipping over.

• You'll be blessed with a better sense of self and well being which will come through sooner once you acknowledge your own ways of self sabotage and decide to not let this be something you hold onto any longer. It's not worth it. That your self worth isn't tied to others or anything outside of you. That you are capable.

• Some of you, if you've been struggling with authority, leadership or a father figure in your life. Expect things to get better.

• Some of you who are athletes or in any kind of sports or entertainment, look forward to much awaited recognition as well as allocades.

[jakesyluslly]

summary: you're going through a stressful time and you surrender yourself to sylus

𖹭𖹭𖹭

you were going through a stressful time. your mind was too full, you couldn't think clearly. your depressive mood was eating and draining you from the inside. maybe stress was normal, but you couldn't control it. at some point you couldn't even tolerate yourself. you wanted to do nothing, literally nothing.

you sat on the bed, wearing a thin nightgown that reached down to your knees. you pulled your legs up to your chest, put your chin between your knees and just stayed like that for a while. times like these came and went, yes, but it didn't make you feel good at that moment. besides, you didn't want to talk to anyone. yes, not even to him. you didn't want to overwhelm sylus with your problems, you didn't want him to have to deal with your problems when he already had enough of his own. you pretended that everything was fine, forgetting how well he knew you.

sylus opened the door slowly and walked in. he knew something was wrong, of course he did. he sighed when he saw you curled up in a ball on the bed. seeing you upset made him even more upset, you kind of set the mood for him. he approached you slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed. ''sweetie…'' he gently brushed your hair out of your face, he wanted to look at you. he grabbed your chin and turned your face towards him, he could read everything in your eyes. ''i'm fine.'' you mumbled, but he didn't believe a word you said. ''don't expect me to believe you.''

he put his hand on your cheek, his thumb stroked under your eye. “if you don't want to tell me what happened, then don't.” he whispered. he took you in his arms and sat you on his lap, made you rest your head on his chest. “but let me keep you company. let me share your silence, your pain.“ his words brought tears to your eyes. all the emotions you had repressed were coming out. you were unable to speak, as if someone was squeezing your throat. ”sshh…” he stroked your hair, massaged your scalp. it was killing him to see you like that. he closed his eyes, lowered his head and inhaled the scent of her hair. ''you don't need to hold yourself back. let your emotions come out. you want to cry? cry.'' you felt his breath in your hair, his presence reassured you. you wrapped your arms tightly around him, you needed him, more than anything. you rubbed your nose against his neck and finally tears started to stream down your cheeks.

sylus held you tightly, rubbing soft circles on your back, stroking your hair. ''everything will pass. everything will be fine.'' he held you close to him, feeling your tears on his skin. you trembled like a wounded bird in his arms, and his heart trembled to see you like that. ''this won't last forever, my love. no pain is permanent.'' he continued to tell you what was in his heart. you were crying as you listened to him, but you felt yourself relaxing. it was as if tons of weight were slowly lifting off you. ''sometimes i feel so helpless.'' you murmured through your tears. ''i feel hopeless, a failure. i… i can't help myself.''

sylus listened to you carefully, pressing soft kisses into your hair. ''you're so strong.'' he whispered in your ear, you could feel his voice deep in your soul. ''you can't imagine what you've been through. you'll get through this, you'll overcome everything. but…'' he held your chin and lifted your head, looked into your eyes for a while. he stroked your lower lip with his thumb as he looked into your eyes, swollen and red from crying. ''…but you don't have to go through it alone. you're not alone. i'm here.''

he took your cheeks in his hands and wiped away your tears. ”i can't take your pain away from you, but i can make you share it with me. i don't want to see those beautiful eyes of yours crying with sadness anymore. haven't you cried enough already?”

you didn't understand his last sentence very well, you weren't sure what he meant, but you couldn't dwell on it. ''i will always hold your hand, no matter what.” he said, smiling softly. he took your hand and brought it to his lips, turning his head to kiss the palm of your hand. you felt your heart soften as you looked at him, you were glad you had him.

“get some rest. sleep will do you good.” sylus was about to put you to bed when you stopped him, you had other plans. “sylus… can i sleep on your lap?”

sylus' curious expression was replaced by a smile, his eyes softened. ''of course, of course, my darling. come here.'' he took you in his arms, held you like a baby and placed a tender kiss on your forehead. ''I'll be here when you wake up, right next to you.'' he hummed a soothing melody to help you fall asleep easily, stroking your hair. you felt your eyelids feel heavy, your eyes were already hurting from crying. there was an indescribable pleasure in sleeping after crying. soon your body relaxed and you fell asleep in sylus' arms.

he kissed you from your cheek to your chin, his eyes never leaving you for a moment. “my most precious treasure. from now on i will be with you every moment, i promise.”

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

A Christmas Gift | G.W.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

feat. George Weasley x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You go to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes to pick out a Christmas gift for your ailing little brother, who adored the shop (and the twins) before he became too ill to go. You find a gift and so much more than you ever dreamed of.

CW: this is really emotional, i’m sorry, but i pinky promise that it has a happyish ending. fred is dead, grief, hurt/comfort, hospital visits, sick sibling/children, some swearing, but also some fun and lightheartedness, plenty of christmasy fluff, first kisses

AN: last Christmas fic of the season!

The early morning snow buffeted at your back as you stepped into Weasely Wizard Wheezes. The store had just opened, you saw someone turn the sign as you finished your breakfast at the Three Broomsticks, but you wanted to beat the holiday rush so you could really take your time.

The smell of cinnamon and woodsmoke, plastic toys and what could only be described as joy, welcomed you inside. An enormous Christmas tree hung upside down from the ceiling, decorated in orange, purple, and gold, with handmade ornaments over every branch and popcorn strings strewn around it. Every shelf was stocked and festively decorated, and soft Christmas music played from the speakers.

You stopped in the doorway, tears welling in your eyes. Your brother would love this. You had hoped that he’d be having a good day today, that maybe, by some miracle, he’d be well enough to come with you. But he’d spiked a fever late last night, and was going in for some imaging today to ensure he hadn’t caught pneumonia…again.

“Morning,” a voice called to you, and you looked up, hastily wiping tears on your sleeve. George Weasley, a man you’d never met but would recognize anywhere, was halfway down the spiral staircase, a cup of coffee in hand. He was dressed in the iconic pinstripe suit, his copper hair a little longer than the last time you’d seen him two years prior, not that he’d remember.

The only reason you remembered was because of your brothers obsession with the Weasley twins. He’d asked to have his hair cut and dyed orange that same afternoon.

More tears welled up, and you cursed yourself, turning away to hide your face. “I’m sorry,” you sniffled, trying to take a deep breath. “I promise I’m not insane.”

You heard him move the rest of the way down the stairs, then approach you, his tall frame taking him across the store in a few strides. He had a bright purple handkerchief in his hand, the triple W embroidered on the corner.

“That’s okay, we like a little insanity around here. What’s your name?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Y/n.” You accepted the handkerchief with a watery smile and dabbed your eyes.

“George. Are you alright, y/n?” he asked.

You sighed, twisting the fabric in your hands. “The holiday’s are just hard.”

He nodded, his jaw flexing, eyes averting from your face to the floor. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher than it had been a moment before. You noticed then the dark circles under his eyes, the air of heaviness around his shoulders. “Can I help you find something?” he asked, pivoting quickly.

“Yes, actually. I’m, uh, looking for a gift for my little brother. But he—it has to be something he can play with in bed. Nothing too loud or messy.” Your heart ached as you said it, knowing he would actually love something loud, messy, destructive, as little boys do, but such things weren’t allowed at St. Mungo’s.

George raised an eyebrow. “Strict parents?”

You shook your head, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “He’s in hospital,” you murmured, hating saying the words aloud.

George’s face fell. “Oh—Merlin, I’m really sorry.”

A flicker of understanding passed between you, your broken hearts beating at the same rhythm for a moment. You knew about the death of his twin, Fred, everyone did, and now he knew your pain as well. That knowledge weaved an invisible string of connection between you, forged in empathy.

“We can absolutely find something for him,” George said, his voice painfully sincere. He offered you his arm and you accepted, needing a bit of steadiness. “What kind of things does he like?”

You started to walk through the store, looking around the towering shelves, at a bit of a loss. “Well, he loves Whizz-bangs, and your Pyrotechtrix.”

George smiled, chuckling to himself. “Fun, but not exactly suitable for a hospital.”

“Exactly. But honestly, anything you recommended, he’d absolutely adore, so long as I told him you recommended it.”

“Oh yeah?” George raised an eyebrow, glancing down at you.

Saints, he’s handsome.

“Yeah, he’s a big fan. He used to beg us to stop in every time we came to Diagon Alley so he could watch your demonstrations.”

George’s smile widened, a flush creeping up his neck. “Well, ah, that’s really—” he scratched the back of his head, clearly flustered by the revelation. “That’s very kind,” he managed with a breathy chuckle.

The door jingled as another customer came in and you tensed, George’s eye flicking towards the new customer, then back down to you.

You moved to slip your arm from his. “I can look around, you go ahead—”

“Oi, Ron!” George shouted, a hand cupped around his mouth, his arm tightening around yours so you stayed put.

“What? I’m sorting inventory!” Ron Weasley shouted back, appearing from the back of the store with arms full of boxes. His eyes quickly scanned over you, your joined arms, then back to George, who was nodding his head towards the door. “Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” Ron turned greeted the customer, dropping the boxes where he stood.

You chuckled, leaning a bit closer to George, grateful that he didn’t abandon you.

“You’re my first priority today,” he murmured to you, close enough that you could smell his amber cologne, and you felt your anxiety unspool for the first time in weeks. For this one thing, this small, Christmas gift hunt, you weren’t alone.

You spent the rest of the morning with George, wandering through aisle after aisle as he talked you through every product you showed an interest in. At first, he seemed reluctant to talk about products with stories tied to Fred, like prodding a sore wound, but eventually he was telling story after story, grinning and laughing at the memories of their countless antics.

He encouraged you to share about your brother as well, and by the end, you were both in stitches from laughing, cheeks sore and eyes watery with tears. It warmed your heart to see him light up at the his brother’s memory, to see the love between them still very much burning, and soothed a bit of your fear.

No matter what happened, the love and the memories would remain.

You finally settled on an Aviatomobile and a few muggle magic tricks, nothing explosive, sticky, or illness-causing. George carried the items to the counter, setting them gently on surface, but hesitated when he reached for the register.

He turned, grabbing a gift box from beneath the counter. Carefully, he wrapped each item in branded tissue paper and nestled them into the box, then rearranged them once, then twice, before finally placing the lid and tying an orange bow around it. Then, he grabbed one of the paper ornaments from the counter, where kids could write little messages or drawings to hang on the gravity-defying Christmas tree, and scribbled something on it before securing it to the bow.

“There we go,” he said, pushing it towards you with a sheepish smile.

You reached for you wallet. “How much do I—”

He shook his head, waving you off. “It’s on me. Least I can do for an avid supporter.”

Tears burned behind your eyes again, caught off guard by his generosity. “George, I can’t—”

“Please, just—let me do this for your brother.” George’s eyes held yours, soft around the corners. “It’s what Fred would do.”

You nodded, unable to speak through the lump in your throat.

“Would you want to, uh, maybe get a drink later? Or coffee?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck, freckled cheeks flushing pink.

You smiled, your heart flipping in your chest. “I’d love to. We could get ice cream at Fortescue's?” You offered.

He smiled back. “Perfect. 7 o’clock?”

“Perfect,” you repeated, fighting a nervous giggle. “I’ll see you later, then.” You hefted the box in your arms and waved goodbye, hurrying out before you said anything embarrassing, or melted into a puddle of goo on the floor.

Halfway down the street, you finally glanced at the paper ornament George attached to the gift.

Sorry, mate. No explosive’s. Sister’s orders. But I’ve got a stash in the back waiting for you when you’re ready. Merry Christmas. - GW

You were fizzing with excitement as you approached the ice cream shop, a soft flurry of snowflakes dancing int the twinkle lights strew across Diagon Alley. Vendors were at every corner, selling steaming beverages, candied nuts, and fried dough. Shoppers wandered from glowing door to glowing door, bundled in thick coats and arms laden with bags. A choir sang Christmas carols on the steps of Gringotts, toads wearing Santa hats cradled in their arms, and you paused to listen while they sang “Carol of the Bells”, trying to collect your scattered mind.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about George for a moment, so wound up that you started getting ready three hours early for a simple ice cream date. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so giddy, so hopeful.

“I like this song,” a familiar voice murmured in your ear and you looked up, finding George standing beside you watching the carolers, the lights reflecting in his brown eyes. He was dressed in a brown wool coat with a Gryffindor scarf around his neck, a white, cable knit sweater and jeans underneath, patches on the knees.

“Me too,” you replied, biting your lips to stop the grin threatening to rise. “How was your day?”

“Chaos. I left Ron to deal with the stragglers. We were supposed to close around six…” he trailed off, his eyes catching on a group of wizards. You followed his eye, and were appalled to find them muttering and pointing at him. And when you looked around, you noticed several groups were doing the same.

Instinctively, you moved closer to him, as if you could shield him somehow.

His fingers twined with yours, warm and calloused. “It’s alright,” he said, turning you to face him. “M’used to it.”

“It’s not alright,” you said, raising your voice and directing a pointed glare at the noisy folks. “It’s rude!”

He chuckled, tugging you away from the carolers. “Easy, love. It doesn’t bother me much anymore. Don’t give them any of your attention.”

You sighed, falling into step beside him, hands still clasped together. “I’m sorry they treat you like that,” you said, glaring daggers at anyone that even glanced in his direction while you walked towards Fortescue's.

“It was worse when we first reopened the shop.” His thumb swiped back and forth across yours, soothing the irritation itching under your skin. “They would come in just to get a look at me. Like my grief was some kind of spectator sport.”

“I can’t imagine having that kind of loss broadcast to the entire world,” you said, glancing at a newspaper stand plastered in the Daily Prophet.

“It’s inhumane,” he replied, stopping in front of the ice cream shop. “But, I’m grateful for it too.”

You raised an eyebrow, facing him in the warm glow of the window.

“Everyone knows how amazing he was,” he murmured, his voice thickening with emotion. He looked down at your joined hands, playing with your fingers. “He’s a hero.”

You squeezed his hand, prompting him to look up at you. “So are you, George," you said, inflecting as much sincerity as you could into your voice. "Y’know, I was there that day, when you and Fred left Hogwarts?”

His eyes widened. “You were?”

You nodded. “I was two years under you, we wouldn’t have crossed paths,” you said, trying to assuage the needless guilt that crossed his face. “But I’ll never forget that moment, watching you guys reclaim the magic that makes Hogwarts, well, Hogwarts. You inspired all of us left behind.”

He gave you a sad smile, his eyes shiny with unshed tears, and brought your knuckles to his lips, brushing a kiss across them. “Thank you for telling me that,” he whispered. “You didn’t get burned, did you?” He asked, worry suddenly creasing his brow.

You giggled. “No, no. No one was hurt besides Umbridge's ego.”

He exhaled, flashing a relieved smile. “Okay, good. Because that would have been a terrible first impression.” He opened the door to the ice cream shop, gesturing for you to step inside.

“My first impression was when you turned Ms. Norris purple during the Halloween feast,” you said, stepping past him and into line, the smell of waffle cones and caramel wafting over you.

George barked a laugh, his head falling back with the force of it, and you smiled. “Better, I suppose.”

“It’s not like I made a great first impression on you, weeping like a sap as soon as I stepped into your store,” you joked, too busy gazing up at his smiling face to notice the line move forward without you.

He shook his head, still chuckling. “No, it was a perfect first impression.”

You ordered your bowls of ice cream, Peppermint Marshmallow Mayhem for George and Gingerbread Dreams for you, and sat at a corner booth by the window, talking about nothing in particular for awhile while you ate.

“So, how’s your brother doing today? You mentioned he had some imaging this afternoon?” George asked, genuine concern creasing his brow.

“He’s doing well, actually. No pneumonia, by Godric’s grace, and his fever broke this afternoon. Still not sure what caused it, but hopefully nothing of concern,” you answered, you heart lifting at his relieved smile.

“Good, I’m really glad to hear that. Now, let me try your ice cream.” He waggled his spoon and you laughed, sliding it towards him. He took the tiniest spoonful, flipping it over to lick it off, and your cheeks warmed at the way his tongue caressed the curve of the spoon.

You knew you were caught when he smirked around the utensil, but he let it slide.

“Here, try mine.” He dug a spoonful out of his bowl, holding it out for you to take a bite with a borderline sinful look in his eye.

“George Weasley,” you teased, shaking your head. “You are such a flirt.”

“Can you blame me? I’m sitting across from my dream woman,” he replied, grinning.

Now your cheeks were really warming, and you leaned forward to take a small bite off the edge of his spoon. Sugary peppermint and creamy marshmallow coated your tongue, and you moaned.

“Good?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Delicious,” you giggled, watching as he ate the rest of the spoonful, and wondered how it would taste on his tongue.

After ice cream, you continued wandering around Diagon Alley, peeking in all the shop windows and sipping warm butter beer, until your noses were pink from the chill, your hair full of glittering snow.

You stopped outside of his shop, the sign flipped to ‘closed’ and only a few lights on inside along with the exterior holiday decor, presumably left on for George.

“I have a confession to make,” he said, stepping a little closer to you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a thrill of excitement pulsing through you. “What?” You asked, picking invisible lint of his lapel just to have something to do with your hands.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I saw you watching the carolers,” he murmured, sliding his glove off and reaching out to cradle your face, his touch gentle, giving you every opportunity to pull away.

You leaned your head into his large palm, gazing up at him, freckled, flushed, and starry-eyed. You’d never seen someone look at you with adoration before, and it made your soul sing.

Instead of saying anything, you rose onto your toes and pressed your lips to his, a quick, airy peck. But when you went to move back, his hand held you in place, lips just barely touching.

“Again,” he breathed, his other hand coming around to rest on your lower back. “Please?”

You gave the tiniest nod, feeling like your heart might burst out of your chest, and his lips connected with yours again in a slow, languid kiss, the taste of ice cream and butter beer and him making your head go a little fuzzy, your right foot popping up behind you as you leaned into his embrace.

His tongue caressed the seam of your mouth, but he didn’t push further, just a small tease before winding the kiss down until it ended the way it started, with a few barely-there pecks in reluctant departure.

You sighed against him, lowering back onto flat feet, and he smiled, drawing you into his chest for hug. You slipped you arms under his coat, feeling the softness of his sweater and the warmth of his body envelop you.

“Thank you for this,” you murmured. “I really, really needed it.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tight around your body. “So did I. Can we do it again tomorrow? Breakfast? Sunrise picnic?”

You chuckled, tilting your chin up to rest on his sternum. “Breakfast sounds great.”

George beamed, dropping a warm kiss to the frozen tip of your nose. “I’ll pick you up at nine?”

“It’s a date.” You stole one last kiss before slipping away, practically skipping.

You and George saw each other every day for the next week, whether it was to wander around Diagon Alley, looking at the lights and festivities, or grabbing a quick cup of tea between busy shifts. Neither of you could stand being apart for more than a few hours at a time.

Tonight, George invited you to his flat for dinner and muggle Christmas films, and you were dressed in the ugliest Christmas sweater you could find. With a timid hand, you knocked on his door.

It opened under you fist, revealing George on the other side, wearing a maroon sweater with a giant ‘G’ on the front of it and a sauce splattered apron.

“Hey, love.” He tugged you inside, pressing an eager kiss to your lips before ushering you down the hall, his deft fingers unraveling your scarf from your neck and peeling the coat from your shoulders. You laughed at his haste, spinning and hopping as he removed your boots. He stopped only when he finally saw your sweater. “Oh, darling. You look ravishing.” His hands fell to your waist and he pulled you into his chest, a mischievous grin on his face. “Very fashion forward.”

“Thank you, baby,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. You hadn’t called him that before, but it just rolled right off your tongue, natural as breathing.

He loosed a pleased hum, leaning forward to capture your lips in another, slower kiss. “Like hearin’ you call me baby,” he mumbled against your mouth.

The oven beeped loudly, startling you both.

“Hungry?” He asked with a shy smile.

“Starved.”

He showed you to the dining room, a round table with a vase of flowers at the center, candles strewn on every surface. He pulled a chair out for you and you sat, accepting a kiss on the cheek before he dashed back into the kitchen.

You looked around, having been too caught up in his frantic greeting to take in the space. The rest of the flat was sparsely decorated, purely functional, besides a sagging bookshelf in the living room, and a few photos along the hallway. Not a Christmas decoration was in sight.

George returned with two glasses of wine, the bottle tucked under his arm. “Here we go, a little Pinot Noir for my gorgeous girl.” He set the glasses down then finally sat down in his chair.

“Thank you, baby,” you teased, and he smirked, withdrawing his wand from his apron and waving it towards the kitchen. A moment later, a giant bowl full of pasta, a basket of bread, a salad bowl, and two plates came hovering out of the kitchen, arranging themselves neatly on the table.

“Bon appetite.” He raised his wine glass, a shy little smile on his face, and you raised yours to cheers, so charmed you could cry.

Two hours later, you were curled up on George’s couch, half enjoying Home Alone, half enjoying the feel of each other’s skin under your sweaters, the rich taste of wine on each other’s tongues.

“How come you haven't decorated for Christmas?” You mumbled between languid pecks, his soft lips moving to trail over your jaw.

“Didn't much feel like celebrating this year,” he replied, kissing down your neck, his tongue tracing your pulse.

“And yet here we are, watching corny holiday films,” you chuckled and felt him smile against your neck.

“Things changed.” He lifted his head, capturing your lips in a heavy, open-mouthed kiss that made your blood warm, your heart beat a little quicker in your chest.

Suddenly, something slammed against the window, a frantic scrabbling against glass that had George springing up like something electrocuted him.

“Errol?” George moved toward the window. “No, what the fuck—”

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?!” You cried, jumping up and throwing open the window. Your family owl flew in, landing on the back of the couch. Fear pumped through you and you snatched the letter from his beak, rougher than the poor bird deserved in your panic.

“What is it?” George rested his hands on your hips as you tore it open.

The words on the card made your heart stop.

Mungo’s now, Mum

“George,” you whimpered, sagging against him as terror rocked through you.

He took the letter from your hand and skimmed it. “Go get your coat on, I’ll take you.”

“I—” You were frozen, darkness pulsing at the edges of your vision.

His hands came up to hold your face, shaking you gently. “Honey, we have to go. I’m going to be right here with you, okay? We’re going together. But we have to move now.”

You nodded, clawing through the sludge of fear and clinging to the thread of stability he offered. He helped you into your coat and shooed the owl out, not even bothering to lock up before he was ushering you into his chest.

“Hold onto me,” he ordered, and you did, and suddenly the world was sucked away, a dizzying, horrible tornado of space, and then it spit you back out on the front steps of St. Mungo’s.

“Holy shit,” you gagged, clutching onto George and he held you upright.

“Sorry, love. Never apparated before?” He asked, rubbing your back.

You shook your head.

“Y/n!”

George stiffened, his hands tightening on you, and you looked up.

“Mum!” You cried, rushing to her.

“Oh, hun. I’m sorry to frighten you, he’s okay. Just a scare. I’m so sorry, darling,” she cried, clinging to you.

“Sh, no, it’s alright. I should be here,” you soothed, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. “What happened?”

“He couldn’t breathe, his lungs—pneumonia again,” your mom hiccuped, wiping at her cheeks. “Who’s that?” She asked, looking over your shoulder.

George was were you had left him, hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes bouncing from you and your mom to the strangers mingling on the sidewalk. You could tell his hackles were raised, some protective instinct roused when he’d been startled by the owl.

You waved him over. “Mum, this is George Weasley. George, this is my mum.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” George said, offering her a hand and a shy smile.

She clutched his hand hard and you both winced. “I-you-Weasley—The George Weasley?” She gasped.

“Just George is fine,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“Oh my, I just can't believe—”

“Mum, can we go see him now?” You interrupted, anxious to see that he was well yourself. “I promise you'll have a proper introduction later.”

“Yes, of course. This way.” She released George and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the hospital.

George hesitated, until you reached your hand out to him. He immediately threaded your fingers together, falling into step with your frantic mother.

A few moments later, you rushed into your brother's room, finding him upright and smiling, some new tubes in his little nose, but all together looking well.

“Mum, I said to leave her alone!” He argued, crossing his arms over his reindeer pj's.

“Hush you,” you scolded lightly, wrapping him up in a hug and kissing his forehead, noting his lingering fever. “How are you feeling, darling?” You asked, pulling back to hold his face.

“M'okay. They let me have some ice lollies earlier!” He chirped, sticking out his neon blue tongue.

You grinned. “I see, that's excellent.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but then you saw his eyes widen, mouth falling open in shock. You turned to see what he was looking at and realized it was George, who was loitering in the doorway.

“Is that—” your brother started, and George looked up. “Wizard—Wizard Wheezes!”

George’s solemn expression shattered into a wide smile as he stepped into the room, his energy shifting instantly. “Hello, mate! I’m George. Heard your not feeling so good?” George reached out to shake his little hand, and he took it, his fingers dwarfed by George's palm.

“No, no. I'm fine!” Your brother replied, shock melting into excitement. “What are you doing here?”

George glanced down at you. “Your sister has been telling me all about you, and how strong you've been lately,” he said, crouching down beside the bed. “She loves you a lot, y’know?”

You stepped out of the way, tears starting to burn behind your eyes. Your mother slipped her hand into yours, watching the interaction with a hand pressed to her mouth.

“I know, but she worries too much,” your brother answered, and George burst out laughing.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

“I’m big like you, I don't need protecting!” He argued.

George nodded, pressing a hand to his chest apologetically. “I can tell. But that doesn't mean they don't want to try anyways. And big guys like us have to protect them in return, yeah?”

Your brother nodded, puffing up his chest. “I'll never let anything happen to my sister. I promise!”

You blew him a kiss, and George gave him a high five.

“That's my buddy. Now, let's see if I've got anything special for heroes like you.” George fished around in his pocket, making dramatic faces while he rummaged in what you thought was an empty pocket.

But then he withdrew what appeared to be a toy airplane that would in no way, shape, or form fit in that pocket without magic. Your brothers face lit up when George threw it in the air and it started to fly, ducking and whizzing around the room.

“Hm, that wasn't what I was looking for,” George said with a dramatic frown, and you giggled. He glanced over his shoulder at you, breaking his frown to smirk at your reaction, and started fishing around in his pockets again.

He pulled out a bouncing ball, then a rubber chicken, a set of chattering teeth, a stuffed teddy bear. Item after item came out of his pockets until your brothers bed was covered in toys and gag items, and a dozen nurses were watching in amazement from the hallway. You and your mom were fighting through silent tears, your heart so big you felt it might explode out of your chest.

Most importantly, your brother was ecstatic, playing with this and that and chattering away at George about the different products and teaching him how to do magic tricks George himself had invented.

But half an hour later, your brother’s nurse came in to administer some of his medication and get him ready for bed. He tried to protest, but his new best friend, George, managed to talk him into not only compliance, but eager acceptance of his medicine.

You stole George away into the now quiet hall, Christmas lights illuminating the dark corridor, and threw your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck, needing to feel him close, to ground you through the onslaught of emotions.

He wrapped his arms around you, his head turning to kiss your temple. “Need some air?” He murmured, and you shook your head no.

“Just need you,” you whispered, holding him tighter.

He let you cry into his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles onto your back and murmuring reassurances into your hair. When you'd exhausted yourself, you pulled back and he reached up to hold your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“Thank you for doing that,” you sniffled, sliding your hands down his chest, his sweater soft beneath your palms.

“It was my pleasure, love,” he replied, looking you in the eye. “You—him—this, I needed this. Needed you,” he breathed, voice tightening. “I forgot why we did all it, what all the sacrifices were for, and you reminded me. He reminded me.”

You rose on your toes to press a kiss to his lips, not knowing how else to express how you were feeling that wasn't, well, insanely soon.

He kissed you back, passionate enough to steal your breath, but released you when the door to your brother's room opened.

“Darling—oh, I'm sorry. Darling, would you like to come get a cup of coffee with me?” Your mother asked, clearly fighting a grin at discovering you.

“Sure, mum,” you exhaled, reluctantly stepping away from George. “You okay for a minute?”

“Absolutely, I'll keep an eye on him.” He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before releasing you to your mother, a soft smile on his face.

When you returned twenty minutes later, you found George stretched out in the arm chair pulled up right next to your brother’s bed, Rudolph on the television.

“—Fred managed to get the deer into the kitchen with some carrots and loaf of banana bread, and kept him distracted while I tied bells and ornaments—mom’s favorite’s, of course—to it’s antlers.”

Your brother was giggling, curled up with the stuffed bear George conjured earlier, his eyes heavy as he fought to stay awake to hear the story.

“But then we ran out of banana bread and Fred tried to give it some cookies, but by then the deer had discovered the Christmas tree in the corner, with the popcorn strings and cranberries and salt dough ornaments, y’know? So the deer started eating the bloody Christmas tree and we cannot get it out of the house now. It’s found the best sodding snack on earth. So by the time my mom get’s home, half the tree is gone, there’s shi—dirt all over the house, dishes are broken, holes in the walls—”

“What did she do?” Your mom asked, laughing. “I would have sent you out to live with the deer and it’s family.”

George grinned. “We ate nothing but carrots and banana bread for a week. Even for Christmas dinner. It was torture,” he chuckled, turning back to your brother, only to find him sound asleep. “That boring, huh?” He joked, rising from the chair so your mom could take it. But instead, she pulled him in for a hug, surprising him.

“Thank you for doing this, and I’m so sorry about your brother. But I know he’d be so proud of you today,” she murmured, and you saw George’s eyes well, his jaw flexing as he tried to fight it. Your mom pulled back, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then smoothing away her lipstick with her thumb. “You’re a wonderful, wonderful man, George Weasley. And I’m so glad you’re here.”

He nodded, a tear streaking down his face. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very k-kind.”

Your mother passed him to you, his hand gripping your tightly as he fought to keep his composure. “Goodnight, mum. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Your mother nodded, waving you away while she kissed your brothers cheek.

You led George out of the room and down the hall, finding an empty room to slip into. As soon as the door closed behind you, he sank to his knees, great, heaving sobs wracking his body. You lowered yourself to the ground with him, pulling his head into your shoulder and rocking him back and forth, his tears soaking through your sweater and shaking your whole body.

“I miss him,” George gasped like he was in pain, his grip almost bruising around your body.

“I know, baby. I know you do,” you said into his hair, holding his head against your chest. Your own tears began to spill then, for him, for you, for your family, and his, and you clung to one another as the overwhelming grief took it’s pound of flesh.

Slowly, he began to settle, breathing labored, but his tears subsiding. He lifted his head, looking at you through tear-brightened eyes, his lashes dark and spiked with moisture. You leaned forward, kissing away the droplets on his cheeks and jaw, until you felt him start to smile.

“I-it’s been so long since I—” he cleared his throat, reaching up to cup your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I was numb for awhile, so long I sort of forgot what anything else felt like. I meant what I said earlier, you reminded me of I’d lost, but in the best way.” Tears welled up again, but he smiled through them. “He would have been so fucking jealous that I got you. But Merlin, he would have loved you so much.”

You huffed a laugh, lower lip trembling as your heart soared. “George,” was all you could manage, and he leaned forward to kiss you, rising onto his knees and pulling into into his chest.

Then, that wild spinning sensation enveloped you again, and in a blink you were back on his couch, exactly as you were before, the credits to the movie rolling on the screen, your glasses of wine exactly where you left them.

“Stay with me tonight,” he asked, trailing kisses down your neck as you reoriented yourself. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, we could spend it together.” He lifted his head to look you in the eyes, and you nodded eagerly.

“Yeah,” you said, laughing as he rained kisses over your face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Thank you so much for reading!

I hope you have the most wonderful holiday season and start of the new year <3

[ajellybee]

I am a firm believer that sex is NOT the only gift you should give someone as a gift HOWEVER...

imagine a full day of festivities on Christmas day with your husband, Nanami. You guys exchanged gifts almost feeling like you were trying to top each other with the next gift you watched each other unwrap.

You got Nanami the watch he showed some interest to -> he handed you the little wrapped box of the newest Vivienne Westwood drop

You watched him unwrap a new standing mixer -> he pushed a box towards you that contained your favorite perfume that was discontinued years ago.

Do you get the gist now? BUT!! you had one last card up your sleeve, after having a dinner full of giggles and laughs you stand up abruptly. Nanami raised an eyebrow but didn't ask where you were going.

"Could you clean up here, ken? I have one more gift I wanna give you" You smile softly at him, trying to look as innocent as possible

"Honey, that's no fair you're giving too much" he furrowed his eyebrows realizing you gave more than he gave you

"no no, it's okay, my love. It's something small don't worry" Again you give the same innocent smile and instead of questioning further Nanami sighs and nods, moving to clean the dining table. "Okay give me like 5 minutes" You run upstairs to your shared room and get to work. While in the shopping district, you ran across a small intimacy store. From the open door, you could see some of the lacy pieces so you decided to check it out, and it's a good thing you did because you found the sexiest set ever, dark forest green with intricate embroidery. It left nothing to the imagination and you knew it was going to be Nanami's favorite set.

after doing a once over making sure everything was perfect it was go time.

"Okay, ken- honey. I'm done" you called for him and right when you finished your sentence the said man opened the door, seems as if he was waiting for your go-ahead to walk in.

"Oh, my love..." In three big strides, he makes his way to you, large hands finding themselves on your waist, rubbing up and down. "Gimmie a spin yeah?" giggling you do as he asked slowly twirling in a circle so he could take everything in. "this is your 'something small'?" he scoffed. Because to him this was anything but. His favorite color looks heavenly against your skin. And the way it fits so snugly against you, highlighting all your soft curves, he was practically drooling. Nanami pulls you in for a kiss groaning as his hands roam down to cup your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. You pull away and make your way to the bed and set on the edge. Nanami watches as you spread your legs apart revealing what he wanted to taste most at the moment, and much to his surprise (and satisfaction) the slit in the middle of your lingerie exposed your glistening folds and he falls to his knees immediately ready to devour you.

"Merry Christmas, Ken"

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

small Christmas piece I wanted to do. Happy holidays!! and if you don't celebrate anything I hope you have/had an amazing day !!! <333

[azuredawn81]

patron of the arts p4 | quinn hughes x musician!reader

part 3

♫ summary: quinn and y/n go to new jersey to meet his family. she's nervous. his family just adores her.

♫ pairing: quinn hughes x reader

♫ content: fluff, flirty!quinn, queen ellen, mama’s boy!quinn

♫ word count: 2k

♫ warnings: the eras tour (sorry to everyone who didn’t go)

♫ note: merry christmas

❅ tags: @verycoolusername1 @luvoblivixus @tomskookie @leclerc-drives-in-circles@dream-girl06 @skepvids@how-what-why-huh @devilinpradaheels @r0wdymaize86 @summert158 @lolatokki@captainhuggys @camiesully

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“baby, are you sure you got everything?” quinn said, a smirk on his face. there’s no way y/n could’ve forgotten anything, not when she packed the whole apartment.

“yes, i’m sure.”

“just double checking. can’t let your forget perfume number 5.”

“oh, that reminds me, should i wear miss dior or good girl to meet your mom?”

quinn just blinked, exasperated. “y/n, it does not matter. my mom will think you’re amazing.”

“so, chance?”

“you’re hopeless.”

“hopelessly in love!”

“unless you want to put the bags in the car, go sit down.”

y/n sat in the passenger seat, plugging in her phone for music.

“you better not be putting on taylor!”

“you were at the eras tour!”

“höggy made me go!”

he slammed the trunk shut and sat down in the driver’s seat.

“and did you enjoy it?”

“i mean, i kinda liked vigilant sh-”

she pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “don’t you dare finish that sentence, quinny.”

“i’d rather see you do that.”

“ugh, i have to go on a eight hour flight with this sicko!”

“the sicko that holds you every night.”

“the very one.”

“you know i love you, right?”

y/n made an affirmative hum noise, staring out the window.

“no, no, look at me.”

“yeah?”

“turn your head.”

“what?”

“i love you.”

she kissed him again.

“baby, you gotta say it back.”

like clockwork, her lips were on his yet again. “i love you more.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

quinn held her hand as they boarded the plane, taking their seats in first class. y/n got the window, quinn got the aisle.

“goodnight, love.”

“goodnight? baby, it’s 1pm.”

y/n pushed the divider between their seats up and nestled into quinn’s arms. “goodnight.”

“forgetting something?”

“oh right!” she leaned down and grabbed her purse. inside, was a little bag containing her sleep mask.

“goodnight, quinny.”

he pressed a kiss to her forehead and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “goodnight, my sweet girl.”

as soon as she was asleep, quinn put his airpods in. he’d been taking a break from podcasts to listen to what he viewed as the highest form of music, the new vso album. it was about 45 minutes, so he could listen to it about eleven times. eight and a half hours, snuggling his girl, staring out the window. this was going to be an easy flight.

“mr hughes?” the flight attendant asked.

“hi.”

“would you like anything to drink?”

“just a water.” he nudged y/n. “angel, wake up.”

“what?” she muttered, groggily.

“drink?”

“it’s too early.”

“2:30, love.”

“diet coke… with the little biscuits.”

“so a diet coke and water?”

“yes, please.”

“ice?”

“angel, you want ice?”

“sure…”

“i’ll be right back.”

y/n was already back asleep.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

quinn: hey mom

quinn: we’re on the plane

ellen: oh good

ellen: is y/n feeling alright? quinn: she won’t admit it, but she’s a little nervous

quinn: she’s performed for presidents and heads of state

quinn: flown out to perform at the coronation for king charles

quinn: but meeting you and dad is scaring her

ellen: oh poor girl

ellen: i love her already

quinn: you do?

ellen: yes of course

ellen: she’s made you so happy

ellen: she actually has substance and her own career

ellen: and the grandbabies i’d get… adorable

quinn: mom be so serious right now

ellen: i am!

ellen: she has a nice nose.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

“angel… angel, wake up.”

“no….”

“we’re landing soon. if you keep sleeping, your ears will hurt.”

“too early…”

“tausk will be mad if you can’t use your perfect pitch.”

y/n jolted awake. “don’t say that name, i’m on break.”

“you’re so cute when you sleepy… and asleep.”

“were you watching me sleep?”

“baby, we’ve been on this plane for almost nine hours, yes i watched you sleep.”

“this is what i mean, you’re a creep.”

“i had to be your pillow for eight hours.”

“and? you’re my boyfriend?”

“i love you.”

“love you too.”

she put her earbuds in and leaned against quinn, smiling. he pulled out his phone to text his brothers.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

da boyz 😈

quinn: 30 minutes till we land

jack: lets gooooo

luke: how’s y/n

quinn: tired

quinn: she slept the whole flight

quinn: she’s very nervous

luke: why

jack: probably mom

quinn: all of you actually

luke: no way she’s nervous about meeting me

quinn: she’s nervous cause you’re my brother idiot

jack: mom loves her already

quinn: y/n doesn’t know

luke: did you not tell her

quinn: no i did

quinn: she just doesn’t believe me

jack: she’s mostly just happy that y/n is famous for something other than wearing bikinis

luke: dude you can NOT be talking

quinn: yeah jack one of us has to

jack: ok whatever

jack: luke and i will be at the airport soon

luke: mom and dad won’t be staying with us

luke: but don’t think that mean you and y/n can be loud all night

jack: luke that would mean quinn gets action

quinn: who has the girlfriend

jack: you and me both dork

luke: 😔

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

“i think i have a pretty good idea of your family. you talk about them a lot,” y/n said, watching quinn grab their suitcases from the overhead bin.

“quick refresh.”

“uh-huh.”

“don’t leave your food unattended around luke.”

“you’ve made that clear.”

they walked off the plane into the airport, his hand holding her so tightly.

“seems like you’re the nervous one, quinny.”

“me? no.”

“your hand’s clammy.”

“is it?”

“are you nervous?”

“very.”

“you’re just seeing your family.”

“yeah, but i’m bringing you home and i haven’t brought home a girl in a long time. and you’re amazing. but with an atypical job.”

“i don’t want the hockey player telling me how i have an atypical job.”

“lots of people are pro athletes, y/n.”

“and lots of people are musicians.”

“tomatoes, tomahtoes.”

“uh-huh.”

“oh, and my mom’s gonna be asking if we’re gonna get married soon or have kids and i don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or anything.”

“quinn, i know we’re going to get married.”

he raised an eyebrow. “what makes you think that?”

“you call me mrs. hughes in your sleep.”

quinn didn’t look back at her, just looking straight ahead.

“cat got your tongue?”

“shut up.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

“jack, look.”

“she’s so pretty.”

“that’s our new sister.”

y/n’s eyes widen as she spotted them. she waved. quinn gave her a look that said “what are you doing?” until he followed her line of sight and saw his brothers. then, he frowned.

luke had a sign that said “welcome back from rehab!”

jack had a sign that said “just married! quinn & y/n”

“are you two serious?” he asked, getting jack in a headlock.

while those two fought like brothers do, luke hugged y/n. “i finally get a big sister.”

“quinn’s dated before, no?”

“yeah, but i can tell you’re the real thing.”

“thanks, luke.”

“c’mon, i’ll carry your stuff. mom and dad are waiting.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

“welcome to casa hughes.” jack said, opening the door into his and luke’s apartment. “you two will be down the hall.”

quinn led y/n down to the spare room, where an air mattress had been set up.

“try not to use the closet, it’s storage,” luke said, peeping his head in.

“bye, luke.”

“bye, y/n.”

he closed the door, leaving the happy couple alone.

“this is quite the bachelor pad.”

“yeah, not all of us have amazing girlfriends with a penchant for peonies.”

“shame.”

they laid on the air mattress, on top of the dark blue sheets that smelled faintly of sweat.

“ready to meet my parents?”

“i’d like to fix my hair first.”

“i’m sure that can be arranged.”

she nestled a little closer to quinn. he wrapped his arms around her, like a teddy bear. “q, you’re so warm.”

“i aim to please.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

y/n was wearing a little black satin dress with black heels. her hair was in a cute updo, a silver pin holding it in place. in one hand was her purse, in the other was quinn’s hand. he was wearing his suit, the one he typically wore for gamedays.

“if you put that stupid beanie on your head, i’m dumping you and going back to vancouver.”

“you wouldn’t.”

“yeah, you’re right. luke would probably be my favorites hughes, thought.”

“that’s crossing a line.”

“love ya, q.”

“god, can you two save this for after dinner?” jack asked from behind the wheel.

“sorry, jacky.”

“thank goodness, we’re here,” luke muttered, getting out of the car.

quinn stepped out, then gave y/n his hand to help her out. he pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“what a charmer.”

“i love you.”

inside the restaurant, jim and ellen were already waiting at a table. the kids joined them, luke sitting next to ellen and jack, quinn, and y/n on the other side of the table. ellen scanned y/n up and down before smiling.

“good job, quinn.”

“thanks, mom.” he was as red as a tomato.

“mrs. hughes, it is such a pleasure to finally meet you and mr. hughes. i have nothing but respect for you two and-”

“y/n, you don’t need to talk like that unless you’re about to tell us about your pregnancy.”

“pregnancy? mrs. hughes, i assure you that-”

“y/n, y/n, you’re okay. you can just call me ellen. jim and i already like you.”

“really?”

“did quinn not tell you?”

“no, he did.”

“i did.”

“the poor girl didn’t believe me.”

“she’s really nervous, mom.”

ellen turned back to y/n. “don’t be nervous. you’re the best girl out there for little quintin.”

“mom!”

“if things keep going the way they are, she’ll know your full name. they have to print it on marriage certificates.”

“we’re just taking things slow.”

the rest of dinner flowed with ease. quinn was thrilled to be back with his brothers. ellen and y/n swapped stories about quinn, like how he set off the smoke detectors making pizza when he was 12 and how he did the same thing just last tuesday. jim was impressed with y/n’s jazz knowledge and vice verse. she showed him pictures of her replica of miles davis’ moon and stars trumpet, the one she played during her jazz stint in new york.

“thank you for dinner, ellen.”

“thank you for taking care of my quinn. i haven’t seen the boy this happy since he got drafted.”

“i try my best.”

“you’ve really turned his life around, y/n. i’m so glad he’s stopped partying.”

“how do you know about that?”

“give it a few years. you’ll know too.”

“what do you mean?”

“moms always know.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

“y/n, come to bed.”

“give me a second! someone can’t remember how to leave their sleeves facing the right way.”

“is that- is that my hoodie? from earlier?”

“… maybe.”

“baby, i wore that on the plane!”

“and? it smells like you.”

he opened his arms for her as she laid next to him. the blanket was tugged across the two of them, engulfing them in a warm cocoon.

“how did i get so lucky?”

“i ask that every day.”

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[robo-writing]

Can we please get a small one shot with Butch!Logan 😩 I need to know her strap game

Also gonna hijack your ask to drop butch!logan headcanons because i love her 🥹

The worst case of resting bitch face this side of the galaxy. It actually made it super difficult to tell she had a crush on you because every interaction felt like she was silently judging you. (She wasn’t, she was just incredibly nervous and didn’t know how to express it.)

She’s so BIG. BIG THIGHS, BIG ARMS, just BIG.

Again, body hair mention, but it comes in advantage because she’s so fucking warm. Winter’s her favorite season because it means you’ll stick to her like glue when it’s cold outside.

If you’re into makeup, she likes to watch you get dolled up, it’s the highlight of her day. She watches intently as you pull out a big fluffy brush—blush, right?—and gawks at you from the bed as your cheeks become bright and rosey.

You always offer to let her choose your look right before you go out on a date, and while she might not be well versed in color palettes you always make it work, and she loves that about you.

More than anything though, she adores when you let her choose your lipstick. Red’s her favorite, because it’s nice and obvious when you kiss her.

Logan gets a high whenever you ogle her body, she can feel her ego grow each time. Your nails scratching against her abs is a kind of joy she can’t compare to anything else in this world.

She also “accidentally” walks out of the shower nude. Notice the quotation marks.

18+ below

So again, I will die on this hill, the strap game is IMMACULATE.

If she wasn’t talented enough with her fingers and mouth, she wields a strap like it’s a fucking weapon

Likes to tease you with the head, barely stretching you open and yet you’re already shaking.

She’s so much bigger than you, so of course she has to have a strap the same size to compensate.

A solid 6.5 inches of pleasure, girthy enough that it takes some sizeable foreplay before you can even think about taking all of her.

If she’s feeling particularly cruel, she’ll make you lay across her lap and make you suck her off while her fingers massage your g-spot.

“Get me nice and wet honey, gotta make sure my girl’s comfortable, don’t I?”

Even with all that prep you still struggle to take all of it, and Logan’s there to make sure you do.

She knows your limits, and she knows you’ll be a good girl and take it.

You whine about how it’s too big, but it’s alright—she’ll get you used to it soon enough.

She’ll hold you by the neck if you squirm too much, mock you as she feeds your greedy pussy inch by inch, lick your tears clean off your cheeks when you cum just from her bottoming out.

“Why’re you crying doll? I haven’t even fucked you properly yet? Poor thing.”

Her thumb circles your clit in response, tutting at the sight of you whimpering at her touch.

“Don’t look like it’s too much to me,” she grins, watching your pussy grip down like a vice. “Seems like a perfect fit, huh honey?”

[dixons-sunshine]

I’m sorry I’m being so annoying but I check your blog everyday to see if you posted the spicy/panic fic, do you think you will? Or have you already and I’m blind??

Sorry I’m just looking forward to it.

I hope you’re having a great Xmas angel

Not To Blame | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Talks of bondage and panic attacks.

A/N: I’m so sorry for the wait, anon! I completely forgot to post it. Now this only references what happened because I had a hard time writing the actual spicy part that lead up to everything, but I hope this is still somewhat okay!

It all happened so fast.

One moment, you’re straddling Daryl’s lap, tongue-deep in his mouth, grinding your hips against his like your life depended on it. The next moment, you could clearly sense your partner’s distress, his breathing turning shallow and sounding choked up, his body tensing and his chest rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm. Although you could have easily mistaken it as pleasure, you knew the archer, and you knew that he was in the midst of a panic attack.

Everything frisky ended the moment you had realized that. You had clambered off of him, and untied the ropes binding him to the headboard of the bed—the bindings being the sole reason that the love of your life had trouble breathing and he had tears in his eyes.

You sighed as you walked from the kitchen and back to the bedroom, a glass of water in your hand. You felt terrible about what happened. It had been your suggestion to try bondage in the first place. Although Daryl had seemed rather intrigued by the idea, you should have known better. Daryl had so many bad memories linked with being tied up. You should have known that something like this would happen.

Stepping into your shared bedroom and closing the door behind you, you sent a small, tentative smile towards Daryl. The man in question was sitting up in the bed, his eyes still a little blood shot from the tears he had shed earlier when you had helped calm him down. When he saw you, he offered up a weak smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I have your water,” you began softly, slowly making your way over to him. You handed him the glass of the cool liquid and sat down next to him on the bed, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and rubbing soothing circles on his flesh with your thumb. “Do you need anything else?”

Daryl took a sip from the glass, before pursing his lips and shaking his head. “Nah,” he replied, his voice shaky and a tad bit gruffer than normal. “M’alright.”

You frowned slightly. “You sure?” There was a few beats of silence after the crossbow-wielding archer nodded, before you spoke up again. “I’m so sorry, Dar.”

It was Daryl’s turn to frown. “Why’re you sorry? You didn’t do nothin’.”

You shook your head in denial. “I’m sorry for placing you in that awful position. I should have known better.” Daryl opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. “Don’t try to downplay what happened and say that it was nothing to spare my feelings. I’m not looking for pity. I just want you to know that I’m sorry about what happened, okay? And I don’t want you to try and make me feel better. Let me take care of you for a change, okay?”

A genuine smile spread across Daryl’s face this time. He nodded and placed the glass down on the nightstand. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, placing his large hand on your thigh. “But I dun’ want’cha to blame yourself, alright? I know what I was gettin’ myself into when you suggested we try bondage. S’not your fault. S’all trial and error, and now we know s’not somethin’ m’into.”

“I guess so, but I definitely would have preferred never trying it in the first place than having you go through that,” you told him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Me too.” A good minute of silence passed, before you lifted your head and stood up, much to Daryl’s chagrin. “What’re ya doin’?” he inquired, his ocean-coloured eyes following your figure as you stalked towards the bathroom.

He soon got his answer when he heard the shower start running. A few seconds later, you walked out of the bathroom and towards him, took his hands in yours, tugged him up from the bed and lead him into the already steam filled room.

“Let me take care of you. You said I could. Let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed,” you reminded him, gently beginning to fiddle with the buttons on his sleeveless shirt. “And no further funny business tonight.”

Daryl smiled, and allowed you to help him out of his shirt, his heart swelling with love for you. “Yes, ma’am.”

[tumblingxelian]

Just woke up, but I am going to throw my hat into the ring on this one and address the claims of one @rwbyuser24

I will start saying, well, isn't what the Wiki presents of her, truth? "Even then, his flaws are folded in to his (alleged) positive traits; he is not afraid, extremely loyal, and has genuinely good intentions, despite the fact that the show has now proven that Ironwood’s flaws greatly outweigh these."

Truth is a rather loaded term in this context, @faunusrights was highlighting that the framing of every trait and action Robyn has or takes is steeped in negative, hostile or inflammatory language. While in contrast, all of Ironwood's negative traits, which far and away are worse than anything Robyn displayed are downplayed to the point of nonexistence.

Hence opening the post by highlighting bias.

Let's consider that Ironwood have been for most of the part of show a hero. I guess that can influence. That and, isn't it truth what the wiki says about Ironwood? And even when his flaws end up outweighing his good traits, that was at the end of his life.

Robyn Hill was also a heroic figure from the moment of her introduction, this does not stop the steep bias against her.

I would also contest how much of a hero he was. Certainly he fought at the Fall of Beacon and that was heroic.

But he also used back-door politics to have Ozpin dismissed from his position. He was an ally to the already well established as villainous SDC. He then pulled out of Vale as soon as possible and when getting word of potential attacks on his allies (Mistral) withdrew all of his military support. & that's before we get into his blatant neglect and oppression, and exploitation of Mantle. All of which was on full display within the first episode of volume 7.

All compounded by the fact that Ironwood was a dictator the entire time.

"These writers love Robyn, and have explored and extrapolated on her character to marvellous degree. Yet, at no singular point have any of these flaws ever been written quite as strongly as the wiki implies they are, nor have I seen much evidence of them myself in the show." Well, I can think some works of fiction where Robyn shows negative traits. There was a rewrite by The-tired-bisexual-agenda who seems to be queer too. Anyway, the point is that since are fans, they probably are biased too. And about not seeing evidence of those traits in the show... Well, let's see about it!

You do a lot to remove the original post from its initial context, which makes hunting for what context surrounded these little snippets vexing. But to put it buntly, Faunusrights highlighted that the majority of creators in RWBY FNDM are women, or queer, or trans, and that she is by and large extremely popular in these circles.

Which is all true. One outlier doesn't actually amount to anything as a response and given "Rewrites" are easily the most creatively bereft, lifeless spittle of the HTDM, such a thing means even less.

As fuanusrights initially highlighted, there is a neutral voice that could be utilized to at least not blatantly misrepresent Robyn Hull while codding the dictator Ironwood, but they chose not to use it.

Now let's address the meat and potatoes of your post:

"Her brashness is blamed for the outcome, but in reality, this outcome could have been avoided together if Clover had not chosen to follow his orders and bring in an innocent man. " Well, Clover didn't initiate the fight. Clover said peacefully to Qrow that he was under arrest. And even Qrow said that they should wait till they arrive to Atlas to talk with Ironwood. Robyn initiated a fight in the manta. The problem isn't initiate the fight, the problem is the place. Is a closed space flying in the air. What if something end up happening and the ship falls? And even when it wasn't her fault, the fight end up resulting in the liberation of Tyrian. Again, she should have assumed that bad things were a risk. She could have wait till arriving to Atlas to talk to Ironwood or initiate the fight there instead of do that in a dangerous place.

You are blatantly and perhaps intentionally missing the point here that Clover is the most responsible for the fight by following a blatantly illegal and or immoral to arrest an innocent man.

Frankly, regardless of who "Started" the fight physically, by choosing to enact state violence on Qrow, Clover was 100% the person responsible for making things a fight.

He didn't need to obey a blatantly unreasonable or immoral order, he chose to, making a fight inevitable. & Qrow being willing to go along with it does not actually change that because, even if we ignore the fact letting someone walk themselves to the gallows on the assumption the judge will see reason is dumb.

The fact of the matter is Ironwood had just abandoned Robyn's city to die and was now arresting all opposition to his tyrannical and immoral reign. & Robyn is now trapped in an airship being flown to his fortress. This entire scenario is one of Ironwood and Clover's making, Robyn's not at fault for being stuck in a shit situation & trying to get out.

Talking to someone who just declared himself officially super dictator of Atlas, left her city to die, is arresting all opposition is an absurd stance. & beginning a fight on his island fortress surrounded by his military is somehow just as absurdly stupid.

I'm going to aside a little here with some insights from another essayist about this matter because there is something subtly sinister in your argument that you may not realize & I hope by outlining it, I will help:

How is arresting someone is somehow not a form of violence?

The answer is, it is a form of violence.

It’s merely considered an acceptable one because of the way it serves the state.

Whereas resisting arrest is considered an unacceptable form of violence, regardless of innocence.

In fact, overall, there is an acceptance in your post that state violence is natural and acceptable, regardless of circumstance or context.

That it is a neutral force, and not one enacted by choices.

I think this is the fundamental issue at play. It’s not necessarily about Robyn or Ironwood. It’s about whether the status quo is acceptable.

"Also, she didn’t crash the Manta! That was all Tyrian!" The article didn't say that she crashed the manta, it says that the fight initiated by her lead to that outcome.

Let's look at what the article said:

Her brashness led to Tyrian breaking free and crashing the Manta as well as her becoming unconscious.

Yeah no, I side with faunusrights here, this line treats Tyrian like some environmental factor, a force of nature, the culpability for the crash and its harm to Robyn is laid at her feet, despite her not being the one to crash the ship. Its rather like how left leaning people always get blamed for the actions of the right wing, evil is treated as a force of nature, rather than a personal choice these people make.

"Yet, the people who enjoy her and the Happy Huntresses often perceive those same flaws to a significantly lesser extent, or even see those flaws as actually being boons of her character; for instance, reading her alleged arrogance as passion." Again, also the fans are biased. About the arrogance, it's for celebrating her victory before time for example. She was so sure of her victory that she made a party, even Weiss and Ren point out how strange that was. There is also her saying: "Looks like he underestimated me. Again."

See, you acknowledge fan bias, but only in regards to Robyn while largely treating the far more baseless support for Ironwood's villainous actions as the reasonable stance across your essay.

Also you do know how elections work right? Like, literally, that is how they are always set up, all political parties in America and many other countries (My own included) do this. That's not arrogance, that's just how elections work. Add in that Jac had to cheat to win and she was right to be cocky.

... Ironwood chose to neglect Robyn in his arrest order, either forgetting her entirely, or assuming she'd obediently follow orders. So yes, he underestimated her.

"I have a suspicion it’s to do with her character at large; she’s a bold socialist politician who believes in equality and fairness for all, who refuses to stand for incompetence and obedience towards evil causes." Is she a socialist though? I mean, she believes in equality but I doubt she ever declared socialists ideals. I'm not sure either that the CRWBY is socialist, so I doubt that they wanted to present a socialist in such good focus.

Robyn Hills's exact political beliefs are admittedly not overtly stated. However she is very much presented as a counter culture, rebellious force against Atlas's hyper militaristic and capitalist system.

"Likely, I’d rephrase a lot of it to be less damaging to her character; she isn’t hostile, she holds people accountable." Except that she was willing to steal from the military truck even BEFORE losing the elections and Ironwood supposedly trying to kill her:

I like how you neglect the fact Ironwood was literally robbing Mantle. Those supplies were specifically for Mantle, as discussed by Robyn and confirmed by Clover in their discussion.

Robyn: Clover, I'm so glad you're here. Maybe you can help me understand why this truck that's supposed to be taking construction materials to fix Mantle's outer wall, is on its way to the middle of nowhere? Are you lost? Clover: (laughs) It's pretty easy to get turned around out here in the tundra, everything looks the same. Thanks for checking up on us though. We'll be on our way now.

If one wants to act like legality is the sum total of morality, then Robyn was actually in the right by trying to secure stolen goods and return them to their proper place, >:3c

"I think you've misjudged the situation. One way or another, these supplies are going to get where they're supposed to go - Mantle." And again, initiating a fight in the wrong place.

This is hardly the wrong place, the stolen supplies are right there and Mantle is in desperate need of them given Grimm are busting through the hole in the wall at all hours of the day and Ironwood has made it illegal for Mantle citizens to even own weapons to or defend themselves. As established in the opening of V7, even being an official Huntsmen does not allow one leniency in this.

"She isn’t quick to jump to conflict, she is familiar with how Atlas responds to anti-authority with violence. " That still doesn't mean that she isn't quick to jump to conflict. And how exactly was Atlas dealing to anti-authority with violence in the past? I mean, Atlas let opposition appear in both Atlas (Jacques) and Mantle (Robyn). All the people that were arrested were people responsible for crimes: Stealing a manta, throwing a brick to a military ship, initiating riots. It just now that Ironwood was arresting people who oppose him.

If Robyn were actually quick to jump to violence, then she'd have attacked despite Penny's presence, she'd have been outright hostile to Marrow, rather than mildly chiding, and she'd have started violent rebellion before the election even happened, which was something she explicitly discouraged her supporters from doing.

How is Atlas at responding to opposition? Oh right, makes it illegal for Mantle citizens to defend themselves, stomps all over democratic norms, steal private property and public goods, while leaving those same citizens out in the cold to be exposed to Grimm, while arresting them for defending themselves.

The Ace-Ops had zero idea RWBY and co stole the Manta because if they had actually known anything they'd have arrested Maria as well. They didn't it was just an excuse they came up with.

"She isn’t arrogant, she believes in the power of the people as being the right thing to fight for." Again, party and overestimating her capacities.

Again, that's how political parties & elections work, & Jac had to cheat to win. Its funny how you keep neglecting that second fact in particular. Almost like you believe it was a legitimate loss despite it being literally and canonically a stolen election.

"not a fan of Robyn not a fan of a new female character not a fan of a new female character in a position of power not a fan of a character with socialist/communist/antifa ideals all of the above and then some???" I guess that the first one. I mean, assume that someone doesn't like female characters due to the dislike to ONE female character... And again, when it was said that she is socialist/communist? And Antifa... maybe? I mean, Atlas was never fascist. Well, that would be all!

faunusrights was talking about the people who edit the wiki, the same people who slathered Ironwood's page in no end of debasing praise and re-framing of events to make them look good.

Their post was very specifically and explicitly talking about a blatant bias in the people who were in charge of the Wiki. People who had demonstrably been extremely biased against against Robyn, women, authority figures who were women that didn't genuflect to a male superior, and otherwise praised conservative and violent men like Ironwood.

So yeah, the opening line of faunusright's post remains apt:

what is going on with all the bias on robyn hill’s wiki page, anyway?

what is going on with all the bias on robyn hill’s wiki page, anyway? - an aside

As someone who uses the RWBY wiki with some degree of frequency - often because I’m looking for art references, or Semblance and weapon names - I’m used to… some amount of bias in the articles for different characters? Like, let’s be real, it’s not a perfect wiki! Community-maintained stuff isn’t easy to all keep on the same track! But, generally, it gives the facts well enough and doesn’t do too bad a job keeping all the balls in the air when it comes to new information from all four corners of this franchise.

Well, until you open the article for Robyn Hill, and realise it’s an absolute disaster. Like, really; the impartial voice just plain doesn’t exist for her, and almost all of her wiki is written in such a way that she reads as being an absolutely insufferable, hostile, hard-to-like character. Even if you aren’t a fan of Robyn personally, you have to admit that if you hadn’t seen the show yourself, you might very well come away from her article presuming she’s a major antagonist of Volumes 7 and 8.

Like, for instance, let’s take a look at the first paragraph of her Personality section:

Robyn has a direct and confident personality, having no trouble being confrontational with Atlas personnel, including the Ace Operatives. Robyn also seems to suffer from overconfidence and arrogance, shown in her encounters with Ruby and celebrating her election victory before it was verified. She is aggressive and hostile in nature, quickly jumping to conflict without thinking through consequences. However, she is also shown to be reasonable when the situation calls for it.

And, for good measure, here’s another paragraph from the same section:

In “With Friends Like These” Robyn displayed a rather impulsive side of her personality, when upon hearing that James Ironwood’s plan to abandon Mantle and arrest those against him, she started a fight between herself, Clover Ebi, and Qrow Branwen onboard a Manta with Tyrian Callows in custody. Despite the fact, there was no order or her arrest. Her brashness led to Tyrian breaking free and crashing the Manta as well as her becoming unconscious.

(Taken from Robyn’s RWBY Wiki page. Bolding is mine.)

Seguir leyendo

[cowboybeepboop]

What about a Tyler Owens x reader where Tyler loves the idea of getting the reader pregnant?

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem! Reader 

Genre: smut, just smutty 

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: You’re Tyler’s fiancee and he has an insatiable desire for you. 

Warnings: breeding kink, unprotected sex, p in v sex. 

a/n: This one is super short and sweet 😝 Hope y'all enjoy, as always send any requests my way! It can be for any character or fandom just let me know 🙏

You stir slightly in your sleep, feeling the warmth of Tyler's body pressed against yours, his steady breathing in your ear a comforting lullaby. His hand began to gently trace the curve of your waist, his fingertips sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. The early morning light painted soft hues on the bedroom walls, hinting at the promise of a new day. 

“Ty.. 5 more minutes,” you murmur, cuddling back against his chest. Tyler chuckled warmly, his hand tracing lazy circles on your waist while you cuddled against him in the early morning light. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, relishing the intimacy.

"Five minutes, huh? That's five minutes I could spend doing something a little more fun," he said, his voice gravelly with sleep. His fingers continued to explore your curves, a hint of mischief in his tone.

“Honey, please..” you whine softly, reaching to stop his wandering hand. Tyler chuckled again, his hand slowly coming to a stop under yours. He let out a mock sigh, feigning disappointment, but his tone remained playful.

"Alright, alright. But you're depriving me of some quality time with you," he said, gently pulling you closer against his chest. "I guess I can wait five more minutes...but don't blame me if I get a bit restless."

Tyler's breath hitched as he began to press against you, his hands moving to your waist as his hips gently rocked against you. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer against him as the heat between you grew.

"You make it so damn hard to wait," he whispered in your ear, his voice gruff with desire. His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses before nipping at your earlobe.

With a sleepy smile, you concede defeat to the siren call of Tyler's touch. You let out soft, needy moans as his erection insistently presses into your backside, the evidence of his desire unmistakable. Your eyes flutter open, no longer able to fall back asleep. 

The early morning light now seems brighter, charged with a new energy as you become fully aware of the passion building between you. You reach behind you, your hand finding his, and guide it slowly down the curve of your waist to the apex of your thighs. 

The fabric of your panties is already damp with anticipation, and you gasp quietly as his fingers graze over the sensitive fabric, the heat of his palm sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. His touch sends a thrill of excitement through you, and any remaining drowsiness is chased away by the growing ache of desire.

You feel his smirk against your neck, his breaths becoming more ragged as his fingertips glide over your skin. He takes the hint without hesitation, slipping his hand into your panties with a practiced ease that sends a shiver down your spine. The moment his finger grazes your clit, you let out a soft gasp, arching your back slightly to allow him better access. 

His touch is feather-light at first, teasing the sensitive bud in gentle circles that make you squirm with pleasure. His erection presses more insistently into your backside, and you can feel his excitement mirroring your own. Tyler's breath hitches in your ear, his body taut with restrained need, as he explores the soft folds of your sex with increasing pressure and intent.

The warmth of Tyler's finger on your clit is overwhelming, making it difficult to focus on anything but the delicious sensation. His hand moves in a steady rhythm, matching the increasing tempo of your breaths. The fabric of your underwear is the only barrier to the fullness you crave, and with a sudden surge of need, you slide it down your legs, feeling the cool air kiss your skin. 

Tyler seems to understand your silent plea, as his hand leaves your waist and reaches around to assist in the removal, his erection now pressing firmly against your exposed entrance. With a soft moan, you guide his hand away from your clit and towards your wetness, feeling the urgency in his touch as he eagerly takes the hint. 

His finger lingers for a brief moment before slipping inside you, the sensation making your eyes roll back in your head. The slickness of your arousal coats him, making it easy for him to glide in and out, the intimate connection sending waves of pleasure through your body. 

His cock, now free from his boxers, nudges against your wetness, and you arch your back, inviting him in. He wastes no time, aligning himself with your inviting heat and pushing forward, filling you in one slow, deliberate stroke. The feeling of him inside you is heavenly, and you let out a guttural moan as he starts to move, his finger never leaving the sensitive bud that's now swollen with desire. 

As Tyler's finger works its magic on your clit, his other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you back into him, his cock driving into you with a steady, powerful rhythm. "You're so wet, so tight," he whispers in your ear, his voice a mix of awe and hunger. 

His hips slam into yours deliberately, each thrust punctuating his words, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You moan into the pillow, your body trembling with the force of his passion. His kisses graze your shoulders, tender and gentle, a stark contrast to the fierce possession of his hips. 

The combination of his tender touch and relentless pounding sends you spiraling closer to the edge of climax, the tension coiling tightly in your core. His breath is hot against your skin, his grip unyielding as he claims you in the early morning light, and you can't help but feel completely and utterly owned by this man who has woken you up with such fiery desire.

As the intensity of your shared passion reaches a crescendo, your pussy clenches tightly around Tyler's thick shaft, the muscles spasming with the imminent release of your orgasm. He groans, his grip on your waist tightening as he feels the walls of your sex contract around him. 

The sound of your moans and the slick wetness of your arousal coating him only drives him closer to the precipice of his own climax. Tyler's hips buck, his movements becoming erratic as he fights the urge to let go. With one final, deep thrust, he can't hold back anymore, and with a guttural growl, he fills you with his hot, pulsing seed. 

The sensation sends you over the edge, and your body convulses in pleasure, your orgasm crashing down upon you like a wave. You follow right after him, crying out as the most intense climax of your life wracks through your body, the aftershocks resonating deep within your core.

As the last tremors of your orgasm subside, you attempt to shift away from Tyler, the need to feel the weight of his cock inside you momentarily satisfied. But Tyler's arms tighten around your waist, refusing to let you move. 

"Not yet," he murmurs into your ear, his voice a hoarse whisper that sends shivers down your spine. "Stay right here." His grip is firm, yet gentle, as if he's afraid you might slip away from him if he doesn't hold on tight enough. You feel the warmth of his semen inside you, mingling with your own juices, creating a deliciously intimate bond that feels almost primal. 

His cock twitches, hardening inside you once again, reminding you of the power it holds over your body, and despite your earlier protests, a thrill of excitement rushes through you at the thought of him taking you again. 

You relax back into his embrace, allowing him to keep his length buried within you, feeling his heart pound in time with your own as you both catch your breath and bask in the afterglow of your shared climax.

Tyler runs his hand across your stomach, his touch gentle and possessive. "Y'know, babe," he says, his breath hot against your ear, "it's a damn hot thought, getting you pregnant. Imagining your belly swelling with our baby... It's something I can't quite shake."

He presses himself closer against you, his body fitting perfectly against yours, as if trying to claim you as his completely.

“Think so?” you murmur, feeling his hand over your belly, almost like he's imagining what it would feel like if you were swollen with his child. 

Tyler lets out a soft hum of agreement, his hand still lingering over your belly. "Yeah, I do," he says softly, his voice a low rumble. "It's a potent thought. Imagining us having a family together, creating a life together..."

He trails off, his touch becoming more deliberate as his hand caresses the expanse of your bare stomach, as if he were trying to picture it already. "The thought of you carrying my baby in here... Damn, babe. It does something to me."

“I can feel what it’s doing to you,” you tease, hips grinding back against his. With a smoldering look in his eyes, Tyler pulls you up onto all fours, your breath catching in your throat at the sudden change in position. 

He kisses the back of your neck before whispering in your ear, "You know, they say this position is pretty effective for baby-making." The mischief in his voice is clear, but there's also a seriousness that sends a shiver down your spine. His movements are deliberate and possessive, each stroke claiming you and the possibility of new life within you. 

You whimper with every thrust, the angle hitting you just right, and you know that he's lost in the fantasy as much as you are. The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin and the moans of passion as he takes you, his grip on your hips tightening with each movement. 

The idea of being bred by him in this raw, primal way is intoxicating, and you find yourself pushing back into him, eager for more. His breathing is heavy and labored in your ear, his hips pistoning into you with a fierce determination that matches the racing of your heart. 

The early morning light casts a warm glow across your bodies, making your skin look like it's been kissed by the sun, as Tyler continues to claim you in this intimate, life-altering dance of love and desire.

Tyler's deep, powerful strokes fill the room with a symphony of desire, your moans melding with his grunts of effort. His hand slides up from your hip to cup your breast, his thumb playing with your hardened nipple, sending electric jolts of pleasure through your body. 

As he continues to pound into you, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot with a precision that makes your toes curl, he leans forward to kiss the arch of your back, his breath hot and ragged in your ear. 

"I want to feel you come again," he whispers, his voice a dark promise that sends a shiver down your spine. His other hand slides down to find your clit, his thumb circling the sensitive nub with a pressure that matches the rhythm of his thrusts. 

The dual sensations are almost too much to bear, and you find yourself rocking back into him, urging him deeper, your body begging for release. His kisses become more insistent, moving from your shoulder blade to the small of your back, each one a declaration of his love and need for you. 

As Tyler's finger expertly teases your clit, you feel your body tense up, your pussy clenching around his thick cock. "Oh, god, Tyler," you moan, your voice shaking with the approaching climax. His movements become more ragged, his hips slapping against your ass as he nears his own release. 

His breath is erratic in your ear, his grip tightening on your waist as if he's trying to meld your bodies together. "Come for me, baby," he growls, his voice thick with desire. With a final, desperate thrust, his finger presses hard on your clit, and you shatter, your orgasm rushing through you like a storm. 

The sensation is so intense that you cry out, your muscles contracting around his cock as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Tyler's own climax follows immediately, his hot seed filling you up as he groans in satisfaction. 

His body tenses, and then relaxes, his cock still pulsing inside you as the aftershocks of your shared ecstasy wash over both of you. For a moment, the world outside the bedroom ceases to exist, and it's just the two of you, connected in the most primal and intimate way possible.

Tyler collapses beside you, his chest heaving with exertion as he tries to catch his breath. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his embrace, his touch tender and possessive as he holds you close.

"Damn, that was intense," he says, his voice rough. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" He plants a soft kiss on your shoulder, his lips gently caressing your skin. "The thought of you carrying my baby though... That's all I can think about now."

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 2

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2])

I'm glad nicky came up with a cool new tune because according to period movies and shows greensleeves is the only song anyone ever knew

look at that meek little smile, ughhhh. nicky is like two days old and this asshole has already figured out he's the perfect prop for her murder sprees. and these poor women are calling her sister and are willing to help too.

the spell is te accipimus in circulum, we accept you in the circle, and yes that makes me cry a little. we accept you in our community. and the spell is yellow air magic, which sounds like the most empathic kind if Lilia is any indication.

that's interesting, you can't really tell that well from screencaps but go rewatch the scene, this witch is making mushrooms grow with yellow magic instead of green?? is it just a spell (she is holding a book) or have I been getting it all wrong and color has nothing to do with the type of magic one has?

or maybe??? the color depends on the coven you're in?? the salemites all had blue magic for example. and now that I think about it the stone circle is a protection spell but it's not red/orange.

the meaning of this scene is so glaring dear lord. agatha was never going to give these women a chance to prove that yes, there are people out there who could love and help and accept her. she has shut herself up to that possibility a long time ago.

and she stole the soup too. awful.

I've seen all the different theories about nicky needing to feed on witches too, or nicky needing soul sacrifices to survive because he's the son of death etc. we don't have enough evidence to prove anything yet, but personally I headcanon nicky as a totally normal kid, that makes this story even more tragic.

and aww that baby suckling on the little pudgy fist

nicky doesn't look that happy about what he's been asked to do, does he?

we establish that nicky was sickly (maybe he was born with some internal defect that rio temporarily patched up?) we also see him steal the bell agatha will use for her Road scam in the future.

and we meet yet another witch being kind and wanting to help.

agatha: I love this six year old so much I'm gonna make him accessory to murder

dO yOU ShaME YouR MOtHER

and the big fake gasp too. as usual this bitch has conned a whole community

like, she's convinced herself that other witches are bad and are after her WHILE relying on witches's good hearts to con and kill them. what sort of mental gymnastics???

color goes from yellow to purple. nicky waits outside while his mom commits murder, it's not a good look on agatha. completely fucked up, actually.

(I'm terrified that the goat will end up being an agent of mephisto or something idiotic like that, lemme tell you. I hope they're just keeping it for milk and company.)

and here's the million dollar question. nicky has seen his mom kill literally since he was born, and now he's old enough to start realizing what that means.

oooh I know that look, that's agatha when she's put on the spot. she avoids his gaze, she can't be sincere with him.

and of course she's teaching herself spells from a book. nerrrrrrd

nicky, bless his soul, appears to give it a good thought and then offers a practical suggestion. I guess he wouldn't mind to have a roof on his head and some friends too.

GREAT acting from kathryn here. the quick OH SHIT face followed by the super final NO, with her jaw so rigid. in typical agatha fashion, when she's upset she becomes avoidant.

this is evanora's legacy. despite agatha's immense love for nicky, she is passing all that pain down and inflicting it on him.

remember when she called billy a survivor? this is the greatest asset in her opinion, the one she wants to teach her son. the truth is, she is angry at witches because she is scared of them, she's scared of being targeted again. but look at that kid's dark circles, I can't believe she's making him sleep in the woods, sick as he is!

really really fantastic subtlety. agatha wants to sound wise and strong, but she looks scared, uncertain, guilty.

see how nicky looks at agatha while he sings? he's checking to see if she's noticing, because his mom likes music and likes his voice. he's afraid he has upset her and wants to make her smile. he tried to reason with her, and now he tries to soothe her. this is what happens when you have an immature parent, a child will want to help, they will try to fix things. they'll end up parenting their parent, and it should always be the other way round.

agatha takes the bait. she's relieved that the conversation has moved to a safer subject. but oh, this script is so good. this is a mostly innocent, mostly sweet remark, but with a possessive undertone. don't forget that you are mine, she says.

and still, the love is real. even in a fucked up situation like this, these moment of happiness are precious and genuine and will linger on. look at how adoringly nicky looks at his mom, she's literally the sun and center of his small world, and that's how agatha likes it: she created nicky because she needed someone who could be hers without any baggage or consequences. but it turns out that raising a child is not a cheat code for love, it's one of the most difficult, most significant and impactful decisions a human can make.