#or over the top to the point that you stop caring

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

A/N: this is a kofi request, about a naga that gives you a massage to help with your chronic pain… and that leads to spicy things~

You let out a sigh as you rubbed your sore body, unsatisfied with your doctor’s current diagnosis… or well, lack of one.

It had been a long time since you last brought up your chronic pain, no one ever listened to you before so why keep asking for help when nothing seemed to change? You had found ways to… somewhat manage, so was it really all that bad?

Well, that’s what you thought before yet another doctor dismissed your pain and sent you home with a smile and tip to take ibuprofen before bed.

“Ibuprofen? Does she seriously think I haven’t tried that already?” you murmured to yourself, wincing as you laid on your side. “All that money for an appointment, just to come home empty handed.”

You didn’t react when your phone buzzed on your nightstand, it was late and you didn’t feel like answering anyone’s messages after the day you had.

In the morning when you had some caffeine and could think clearly, you read the message you had been sent the night before.

“Hey, I know you’ve been having some pretty bad flare ups lately. I went to this masseuse and I’ve never felt better! Here’s the address, he said he’s free tomorrow, you should go after work!”

You let out an annoyed huff. Although you loved your friend, you disliked when people recommended random treatments to you.

As if you haven’t visited a masseuse before! Every chiropractor in the area knew your name!

“Well… guess it can’t hurt. I’ve got nothing to do tonight anyways.”

After another work day full of pain and a double dose of anxiety, you put the address into your phone. Luckily, it was close enough to your house that you could justify going home to change out of your work clothes first.

“First impressions are important after all…” you muttered to yourself, brushing off your skirt.

The address led you to a small cottage. It looked more cozy than professional, which you didn’t mind. After all, you wanted to be comfortable and had been through this song and dance so many times you didn’t care anymore.

“Hello!”

You jumped, turning to see a naga slithering up the driveway. It wasn’t often a human like you encountered a magical being, the last time you came face to face with one was in kindergarten when one of your classmates was a troll.

“O-oh, hello. Are you..?”

He smiled, flashing his fangs. “The masseuse? Yes! You must be (Name), your friend said you’d be here early.”

While you walked in, you didn’t notice the way his eyes wandered downwards, taking note of how nice you looked in that skirt.

You did the usual, undressing and laying down on the premade cot before calling him back into the room. For some reason, even though you had been through this multiple times, you almost felt… shy.

“Alright, where are you feeling the most pain?”

You pointed out your sore spots, wincing as his hands went to work. After a few minutes, he frowned and pulled back a bit. “And this isn’t helping, is it?”

“No… it seems nothing really seems to work. Thanks for-“

He stopped you from getting up, helping you relax back into the cot before his hands moved down your body. “I see your friend didn’t mention what I specialize in.”

You saw his fangs again, the way the light glinted off of them making you wince.

“You see, my venom can act as a muscle relaxer. It’s more potent and effective than anything you’ve ever tried, I bet.”

Before you would have hesitated, but you were so tired of the pain and were willing to try anything. “That… sounds nice.”

The naga hovered over you, sniffing your neck before giving it a lick. He was quite handsome, and it had been so long since a man had been this close with you. It felt intimate…

His neck sunk into your neck, and he stayed on top of you as the venom kicked in. He worked his hands into your muscles, humming softly as you let out satisfied moans and sighs.

“Mmm…”

His hands wandered, stopping right at your hips. You were plump, the towel barely covering your fat ass and pretty pussy. Although he tried his best to stay professional, he could feel his cocks beginning to peek through his slit.

“Feeling good?” he asked. You noticed his voice had a slight huskiness to it, and you decided to take your chance.

“Yeah… what about you?”

You couldn’t move much, but the slight shift of your hips into his was enough to have him hissing through his teeth. His cocks settled on your ass as he continued to massage you.

“Mmm… me too. In fact, I can make sure we feel even better… together.”

By the time you got home, your pain and sexual tension was fully relieved, and you already had your next appointment scheduled.

The naga was almost more excited for it than you were.

Want more of this character? Leave a comment!

—————

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[lohotine]

``Oh, You Liar!``

Multi Char Fic x AFAB! Reader (NSFW)

Ft: Shadow Milk, Pure Vanilla, Affogato

CW: Cookiefucking(?) Cockwarming, oral, fingering, blowjob

°•《 AN: oh dear, did I miss valentines?》•°

MINORS DNI! NSFW FIC BELOW CUT

Shadow Milk Cookie;

oh, how you hated him! you knew he was mean, but you never thought it was to such an extent...

not letting you move, even though he was so close to your g-spot. he said he'd let you once he was finished going over some paperwork, but... he's taking forever! it's just not fair.

your shift your thigh ever so slightly. (you've been good for how long now? don't you deserve a little friction?)

the jester notices it instsntly and clicks his tongue in response. "ah ah ah- didn't I tell you to sit still?" he looks at you with lidded eyes, a faint expression of some sort of twisted amusment present through them.

"shadow milk.. you're s'mean to me... you're taking a long time on purpose-"

he grins at you, pressing his forehead to yours. "it'll only take longer if you keep distracting me like this... c'mon, it'll be over soon. just behave for a little while longer, yeah?"

hah! a little while longer my ass! knowing him, he'd probably continue stalling until your breaking point... the thought made you pout.

"what's that look for?" he asked, only to be met with your stubborn silence.

how unfortunate... he prides himself on getting reactions out of you, you know?

he presses a hot kiss to your collar bone, lightly sucking on the dough.

just what did he think he was doing? was he expecting you to sit still during this as well?

"mmph- shadow milk--" you grind your hips. (you just couldn't help yourself! not when you've been stuffed full for nearly an hour now...)

he places a hand on your knee, preventing any further movement. "that wasn't permission to move."

you can't help the whine that escapes your lips. "you're not being fair..."

he scoffs at the statement. didn't you know that he wasn't a fair man? "punishments aren't supposed to be fair. now stop moving, 'kay? i promise i'll be done soon..."

Pure Vanilla

"you... ah- said you were inexperienced!" you muster through hot breaths, hair sticking to your flushed face.

he spread your already soaking folds with two fingers, thumb resting on your bud. "mmm, but I am..."

one of your legs rests on top of his shoulder. he presses a kiss to your thigh, slowly moving closer to the spot where you actually want him to be.

(he sure was taking his time... there's no way he didn't know what he was doing to you!)

he places a kiss right on your cunt, and you can feel his hot breath at your entrance. still, he doesn't give you what you want.

"hurry up already..."

pure vanilla can't help but chuckle. "so impatient..." though, he obliges. he quickly darts his tongue in and out of your clit; its only purpose to get you even more on edge.

and before you can even say anything else, he pumped both fingers in, setting a steady pace. oh- and the way his tongue circled around your clit;

once... twice.. fuck! it drove you insane.

your mouth fell slack, unholy moans falling from your lips. tufts of his golden hair became tangled in your fingers as you grasped it.

of course, he didn't mind. it was only a sign that he was doing his job right. "ngh- pure vanilla-" you managed to choke out between moans.

he looked up at you, mouth never leaving your pussy. "mmhm?" the sound only worked as extra stimulation as it vibrated throughout your body.

what were you even asking for again? you couldn't even remember over how good the blonde was licking you up...

oh, it didn't even matter anyway! so long as he kept sucking on your cunt, you couldn't care less.

Affogato

having you here between his legs... doe eyes looking up at him-

it turned him on much more than he'd like to admit. your tongue licking the slit of his already leaking tip...

he sucked in the cold air through gritted teeth. he wasn't supposed to be getting so worked up over this, but the intoxicating feeling of your mouth on him was a pleasure he found much too enticing.

"you feel so fucking good, baby," he'd say, more labored breaths spilling from his lips.

how strange... the royal advisor was never a person to use such foul language. how did you manage to pull that from him?

you took more of him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his length and wrapping your hand around what couldn't fit into your mouth.

he grinded his shoe against your clothed entrance, trying to give himself at least some edge in this interaction...

he swore that he held more power over you, and he desperately wanted to prove that fact to be true.

"come on, don't you want me to touch you? don't you want my fucking hands on you?"

he became so desperate like this... so much for holding power over you! oh well, he was always a bit of a liar anyway.

each flick of your tongue sent another shiver up his spine. god, how were you so good at that?

he grabbed a fist-full of your hair and pulled you further onto his dick, gaining a gag from you.

oh how he loved the tears that picked the corners of your eyes!

though, he loved your mouth on him so much more...

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Please (Dean Winchester x female reader)

Dean has been acting out, and you decide it’s time to give him what he really needs: to let go.

Read it on AO3

My 2024 Kinktober series

Rated E. 2.5k words. Dean gets the full sub experience - crawling, crying, begging. It's a hoot. Femdom. Some religious imagery.

Dean’s really fucked up this time, although you’re starting to suspect he’s doing it on purpose.

The last time he did it, chatted with a busty brunette in the bar where you could clearly see it, and you were done roughly fucking back at the motel, you let your head drop back, panting.

“You pull this shit again,” you said between deep breaths, “you’re seriously going to pay for it.”

And Dean, smug asshole that he is, had thrown you a look that told you that if it meant more of what you had just done, he’d let you catch him flirting with every woman between here and Alaska.

You don’t actually get jealous. You know Dean won’t actually do anything beyond chatting them up. And the reason he started doing that in the first place is to try to get a rise out of you, try to get you to the point where you are pinning his wrists over his head, fucking yourself down on him with no regard to his pleasure, only yours.

Cause. Effect. It’s simple.

But lately he’s been getting a little too cocky, a little too sure of himself. He still gets off, and he really likes seeing you the way you get, domineering and a little mean. He loves that someone cares enough about him to abandon their own control of themselves. It feeds something in him he didn’t know needed feeding, is your theory. But maybe it’s time to change up the game a little.

The two of you haven’t discussed this before, and a part of you thinks that maybe you should. But talking to Dean about sex is like talking to a dog about barking. He really doesn’t have that much to say about it beyond the doing of it. Plus, you cannot wait to see the look on his face when you do it, can’t wait to see his pretty face all confused. It makes you tingle just to think about it.

So it’s the usual, some sweet girl Dean chatted up, and he keeps throwing you looks over his shoulder, because of course he’s not subtle about. Thirty minutes later, you’re pulling up to the motel in the Impala. Your hair is already a mess from how roughly you and Dean have been kissing, but it’s nothing compared to what happens once you’re inside.

You haven’t even managed to take all your clothes off, only your jeans, your panties still dangling from one ankle, but Dean is already licking and fingering you so vigorously that you couldn’t care less.

“Fuck, yes, keep going,” you whine while you press the back of his head down roughly, his face against you, watch him with his eyes closed and brow slightly furrowed, like he’s in fucking heaven.

You come, your cry is loud and you’re distantly aware of someone banging on the wall that separates you from the next room, but you’re too busy having the top of your head blown off. Dean gets off you, basically rips his own clothes off in an effort to get to what will happen next. Boy, is he in for a surprise.

You’re still a little jelly-boned, but once Dean has taken off his clothes, he helps pull off your top, immediately leaning down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. You moan, roughly grab him by the hair and he sucks harder in response. Then he moves off you and turns, lays on his back, all the while stroking himself. He doesn’t need to, he’s hard as steel, the head of his cock wearing a crown of pre-come. You get on top of him immediately, high on your knees so his cock is below your pussy.

“You like making me angry?” you say as you slowly sink down. Dean grunts and you almost forget what your plan is, because goddamn he feels good. You stop moving when he’s fully seated in you.

“I asked you a question,” you say. Dean has his head pressed into the pillow, eyes closed, and he blinks them open now. He looks confused and you could squeal at the sight of that.

“Do you like pissing me off?” you ask again, voice calm. Dean seems to gather himself, because he nods. As a reward, you roll your hips, making Dean’s breath hiccup. His hands shoot to your hips.

“Tell me, Dean,” you say, not moving again. “Tell me and I’ll move.”

Dean needs to get his breathing under control, since it’s all over the place. Once he does, he looks up at you.

“I like that you take what you want when you’re mad,” he says, and you clench a little, making him flinch, eyelids flutter.

“Love the way you just take from me,” he adds, and he actually blushes, blushes so prettily. You grin and begin rolling your hips in earnest now.

“You just have to ask, Dean,” you say, hoping he can hear you over his beautiful moans. “You don’t have to act out, just ask me to pretty please be a little mean to you.”

The corners of his mouth twitch into a smile at that, but he’s already got his eyes closed again, completely absorbed by your movement. So now, it’s really a race against time, because you’re not sure you’ll be able to do what you want to do if you don’t come again first.

Though there’s no need to worry. Years of sex with Dean, getting to know how your bodies work together, plus how absolutely crazy it drives you to see him like this, get you there quickly.

One hand is in your hair, one on your clit, and your hips are snapping back and forth, and you can feel it build in you quickly. There’s a light sheen of sweat on Dean’s forehead and he looks like he’s in pain, so beautiful, so perfect. You come, riding him even harder to prolong your release, and just as you recover, Dean lifts his head from the pillow a little.

“Gonna, fucking, gonna come inside you,” he groans and you can feel his hips buck up for the extra stimulation. Your hands land on his chest and he probably thinks you’re gonna ride him right into it, but instead you press yourself up and don’t come back down.

It takes about two seconds for Dean to understand what you’re doing. He blinks his eyes open as he slips out of you. You climb off the bed, grab his shirt laying close by and use it, just as an extra pinch of degradation, to dab the sweat off your body. Then you turn back to Dean, and it takes you everything not to burst out laughing at the view.

He’s still in the position he was in, hands up, as if he’s holding on to a ghost version of you. Cock flushed and angry and it makes your mouth water, but you know better. You drop the shirt on the floor just as Dean sits up, not touching his erection. Good.

There was a small chance that he might just get himself off, but while Dean can be an absolute brat, it all melts away as soon as the sex begins. Then he’s like a little kitten.

You sit in the armchair opposite the bed, the one you turned around before you left for the bar, just in case tonight was the night, the anticipation making you giddy. You sling one leg over the side of it, revealing your pussy to Dean.

“Babe?” he says, sitting up, tone questioning and, if you listen closely, a little nervous.

“I think I’ve been letting you get away with this shit for a little too long,” you say, and then raise your hand, collect a little bit of spit with your fingertips. The hand goes to your clit, barely touching it, just enough for Dean’s eyes to drop there and stare at it, like a man in the desert looking at a glass of water. He actually licks his lips. You could die from love for this man.

“I think you need to learn, Dean,” you continue, flexing your shoulders a little because you are feeling too damn good. “Need to learn that bad behavior doesn’t get you rewarded.”

Dean still seems shellshocked, swallows heavily. Good chance his brain is still fighting through the fog of arousal.

“So why don’t you come over here,” you say, voice low, “and show me how sorry you are?”

You see the moment it clicks in Dean’s brain, the moment he understands what you want him to do. And the second after that, you see that he likes it. He doesn’t look happy exactly, but instead he looks… needy. Hungry. Desperate. But also blissful. His shoulders go down, his face relaxes.

He hesitates for another second and then he moves, and you want to pray to the gods above when you see that he gets on his fucking knees, and then Dean Winchester, feared and famed hunter, the man monsters have nightmares about, is crawling towards you.

You could come again then and there, because it is the best thing you’ve ever seen in your life. His back and arm muscles ripple with the movement, you can just see his perky ass over his back, his cock hangs heavy and leaking under him and his face is so beautiful, so full of reverence, like he's about to sacrifice himself at the altar of you.

He reaches you and you pull your hand back, because damn it, he knows exactly what to do, falls into the role like he was born for it. He rubs his face against your pussy and you gasp. It’s uncoordinated, he’s not eating you out, it’s something else. Your slick is smeared over his face before his tongue finds your clit, presses against it, sucks on it but only shortly, because he is working himself into a frenzy.

You wouldn’t mind coming again, but the truth is, this is about Dean. It’s about giving him what you believe, and see now confirmed, he always wanted. To be told what to do. To make up for what he’s done. To be taken care of. To completely let go, which you’re pretty sure he’s never been able to do for a second of his life. To beg for what he wants and actually get it.

His hands go to your thighs as he holds you open, almost as if he’s worried you’ll close your legs, as if they’re the gates to heaven and he’s terrified of not getting in. He tongues and nibbles at you and you just watch him.

“Please,” he finally says, and you feel the breath of his words on your sensitive skin. “Please, please, let me come, I’ll be so good.”

Jesus Christ, this is better than you ever imagined it could be. It’s actually making you emotional. Your hand goes out, and you pet Dean’s cheek and he moans, presses his face against your palm, brow deeply knotted, eyes falling closed.

“Please,” he says again.

“You’ve been very bad, Dean,” you say and he nods vigorously, looks up at you.

“I know,” he says, glistening eyes pleading. “But I can be so good, I promise. Just let me come. Just let me come inside you.” You look at him, pretend you’re thinking.

“I always thought you were a bad boy,” you say, thumb gently stroking Dean’s cheek. “But you’re really a good boy, aren’t you?”

For a second it looks like Dean comes right then, without any touching, because the shudder that goes through him is that intense.

“Yes,” he says, and it’s more of a breath, voice raspy and deep as if he’s been screaming, his eyes falling shut again. “Yes, I’m good.” You nod, continue stroking his cheek.

“Come up here, Dean,” you say. He does it immediately, pushes himself up. Daddy’s little soldier. So good at following orders.

You pull on his arms to make him lean towards you, one of his knees going on the seat of the armchair for balance. But instead of guiding him into you, you guide him so that his cock is lying on you, across your mound, and you gently stroke it. Dean gasps.

“You want me to make you come, Dean?” you ask, studying his face. He’s torn up, torn between the promise of release and self-control.

“Inside, please,” he huffs, restraining himself from bucking into your touch. His chest is rising and falling, his shoulders are tensed. “Please, please, let me come inside you.” You raise your eyebrows as if you’re confused by his request.

“But you can come on me, Dean,” you say. “Isn’t that nice?” Dean nods then shakes his head. God, he is really losing it.

“Inside’s better,” he says, then swallows, like he’s correcting himself. One of his hands lands on your waist, like he’s begging for entry. “Nothing feels better than being inside you.”

You purse your lips, then press a hand against his abdomen, push him back a little. Dean complies. His cock drops off you, head now hanging close to your entrance. You reach down, line him up, and then you wrap your legs around him, and pull him in.

Dean looks like he’s seeing God for a second. He fills you up so perfectly and a little moan escapes you. When he’s all the way inside you, you cup his face, run your thumb along his lips.

“That’s where you belong, isn’t it?” you ask and Dean just barely nods.

“Yes,” he breathes. You clench down on him, against him and he moans, so you do it again, harder.

“Fuck, please,” he grunts. You wonder if you can make him come just from this. Something to try next time, maybe. Right now, you need Dean as much as he needs you. You loosen the grip of your legs around him.

“Fuck me, Dean,” you say, voice quiet. “Come inside me, you deserve it.”

Dean’s hands go to your sides for a better grip, and you see that they are actually shaking. He pulls out, then pushes in again, clearly trying to control himself.

“Faster, baby,” you say, biting your lip. “Fuck me good.”

And Dean does. He’s completely desperate at this point, and he pulls out quickly and pushes in again even quicker, until he’s fucking himself into you fast and shallow. A drop of sweat runs down his temple and you want to lick it away, but can’t reach.

You don’t come again, which is fine, but Dean does, quickly and violently. He leans his head forward and it lands on your chest.

“Please,” he groans as he comes, his entire body shuddering, his back tensing. You wrap your arms around him, stroke his back.

“Ssh,” you coo, and something like a sob leaves him.

“You did so good,” you rasp into his ear and he presses his face into your neck as he’s coming down. You’re not sure if the wetness you feel on your neck is sweat or tears, but it doesn’t matter. You just hold him, for a long time, stroke his shoulders and back, tell him how good he’s been.

Dean never pulls the stunt with flirting in a bar again. He doesn’t need to. He knows how to ask now. 

[aceofdumbass]

Okay, I might be biased, bc 1) psychology is my special interest 2) I study this field 3) I am fucking poor as fuck, and not long ago it was the kind that makes you unsure if you will be able to put food on the table tommorow

BUT

I honest to God can't remember being old enough to know what stress means and not knowing that being poor (or in prolonged stressful situation really) will quicken your death.

Is this really something that most ppl don't realize?

If you pay 50% of your income for place to live (and that usually means your income isn't this high - unless you live in some fancy place, possibly?) that means you have only this remaining half to cover food, medicine and healthcare, cleaning products - and having to possibly skimp on those categories is obviously dangerous.

If you are lower income person, you probably can't afford to take too many sick days - with current economy employers often prefer to fire people they find to be not so important, and, while not always, most low income jobs are ones you don't need to have much education or experience. Maybe to do it well, but who is gonna care if their barista/cashier/storage worker does things properly when faced with thousands of them? CEO of Starbucks? Walmart? Amazon? On the other hand, being absent from work is clear data, no analysis needed. But this is not about job situation now - it's about stability, which is inherently needed for humans to feel secure and safe.

And so, this is also one more point for healthcare being obstructed. I went to work, (in fucking museum reception!!!! In place where I talk to ppl and pass them things constantly!!!) with covid and 38,5°C body temperature right after they took back lockdown in my country bc I really fucking needed that work and my boss thought that wearing mask is enough.

Guess what, got fired anyway. Probably ppl from other desks complained about sick worker...

Point is, no rest for the wicked - or poor in this case. Many ppl will not stop dragging themselves to work unless ambulance has to pick them up. Huge part of those would have to first have a good soul call the ambulance for them after they passed out or something, bc the possibility hospital will tell them to stay for few days (and consequently, not be at work) is not worth it for them. Long live human rights!

Now, imagine it's a family household. Maybe two ppl and a child, a unit every country pushes for to get that sweet sweet "we are not dying out as a nation" marker. Two adults have low income jobs, and kid needs to go to school or preschool or whatever. Now those adults will have to decide, each time more than one of them is sick (or god forbid have more and more normal recently permanent illnesses) if they can afford all the doctors, all the medicine, all the sick days, who takes care of who... - if there is enough for all of it, or maybe they need to cut dow or something. Does their child go to doctor with a fever or maybe the father doesn't take his diabetes medication this month?

Fuck this life, but what can you do? Surely it will get better someday...

And then there are young ppl, who nowadays actually almost always have to borrow money to be able to get a house or flat. If you want to stabilize, not pay extra money for renting out or get rid of crazy landlord - prepare to be eternal slave to some bank, and to be hounded down like a criminal if you are late with few monthly payments. I would know, what with all the loans I took out for my parents as a very stupid 18 years old.

Yeah, getting screwed over by closest ones is a thing too. If you are poor as fuck, chances are, they are too, or you don't keep in touch or you have to observe how much their life is better - or you live with constant knowledge you are going to be forever indebted to them for their kindness. All wonderful situations, and I can mark each of them - what stupid prize will we get for full marks in this test? Ah yes, the top ones include depression (more medical bills), going to jail for desperate measures, and booking it out of here express way - maybe making a headline in newspaper about ppl not managing the pressure in extreme situations (and extreme is not something objective, mind you). Miserable.

Even if you aren't this bad off, jealousy and comparing and feeling inferior (and money is a sign of success right????) doesn't feel fine. Feels fucking awful, in truth.

Not having stability is fucking stressful. Pressure is fucking stressful. Having to make decisions that can hurt your closed ones is stressful! Do you know what our bodies do when we are stressed? NOT VERY MUCH RIGHT. Our hearts beat too fast, and get used up too much too quickly. Our hormonal balance flies into the sky with how much adrenaline we have and how little of serotonin and other good things are produced. We start having problems with being able to absorb vitamins and such. Consequently, the immune system gets weaker, we fall sick easier. Our memory may fail us. Deep sleep is hard to achieve, rest doesn't really "rest" us. Our body tries to switch all resources to get away from danger, at the cost of it's normal functions - but this danger is not what our instincts we made against, so many of those are useless. There are probably other things that happen which I don't know of or don't remember at this moment.

And after some time, our brain gets used to it. Now NOT being stressed is ALSO suspicious, a reason to be stressed about! Congratulations, humanity! Achievement unlocked: Anxiety Disorders! Wheeeey...

That thing five years ago that you sometimes remember and want to self-combust because of? Guess what, it's your body going "we are stressed. Danger. We need to fuck off asap. Quickly, think. Oh, long ago we were also stressed=danger, but we lived! Surely there is a way to avoid this danger too somewhere in this memory!". And now, it's going to happen ALL the fucking time. When you are on a date. When getting to work. When brushing teeth.

You started hyperventilating before job interview and look like unstable mess during? Well, danger, you know. Gotta dash, horta have enough oxygen for that, make that blood flow. Diarrhoea (or the opposite) before meeting with important client? There is a chance your body tried to make you lighter to get away easier, or maybe get the predator to leave, like a skunk. Or possibly, brain figured out it really isn't a time to go to bathroom so we are gonna stop that for next half a week till this sudden random pain makes you wish you were dead when you actually can't physically not go. Might be other reasons, of course, but stress can and sometimes will induce those responses. Ones, which may very well induce even more stress - for whatever you fuck up because of them or for your health (which really can't detonate right now, bc you don't have enough left for doctor visit from this month's paycheck, and no sick days left!).

This fun train is on express course for a crash - and you just saw conductor throwing out the brakes through the window. Delightful. Wanna buy that overpriced chocolate cake or coffee for 20 bucks to eat through the stress?

The long and short of it: little money means stress. Stress means you need to pay more money to be able to live on. Pressure means stress. See the pattern?

And even if you are the chillest person out there, if you break a leg and can't get yourself treated, you might lose job, go hungry, get some infection in it and die way quicker than you would without it. You will just be slightly less bothered about it, I guess.

Welcome to the world, where everything is for money, and you get those through luck (uncertain), slaving away (uncertain) or human life protection (uncertain) or social help (uncertain).

And no shit, did researchers really say that people die quicker if they are rid of half their income? Wow.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6.6 K Warnings: SMUT. Threesome. Dry humping, hand job (male and female reciving), P in V, endless teasing. / Remus' first time with Vix and Siri. Consent is Sexy. Prompt: Finally a quiet time for the three of them. Proofread by sweet @girlwihkaleidoscopeeyes This chapter can be read as a one-shot

Chapter 74: Las Palabras de Amor

You rolled on your side, sitting on your shins so you were now looking at Sirius instead of leaning on him, your head tilted slightly to the side as you eyed Remus. You locked eyes; his, more golden than brown at this point, seemed to sparkle as you stared at each other. 

It was almost as if you were in potions, silently communicating to each other exactly what you’d be doing next. By the time you turned back to look at Sirius, he was looking at you with a mix of nervousness and excitement, Adam’s apple bobbing as the two of you veered closer, his breathing short.

He’d become prey as both you and Remus moved as gracefully and decisively as if Moony or Vixen would when stalking each other in a game. It didn’t matter that he was bigger than you or that he, as Padfoot, could kind of control Moony. At that point, Sirius didn’t even feel canine, he’d turned into a rabbit or a baby deer, facing two beasts that seemed ready to devour him. He wasn’t sure he wanted anything more than that. 

You leaned a little closer, even if you felt slightly exposed due to the lack of fabric covering your top half. There was a confidence in your movements that you weren’t exactly sure how you’d gotten. Both of your hands travelled to Sirius’ jaw while Moony’s moved to his hips. You allowed your fingers to brush down from there to his neck, gently tracing his Adam’s apple as you went down, stopping right on the second button of his shirt. As you started unbuttoning, Remus brushed his hands over Sirius’ abdomen – oh, how he’d dreamed of being able to do something like that – locating the last button of the shirt and working on it with a patience that was as maddening as it was exciting. 

The pads of your fingers on Sirius’ skin felt like burning every time they brushed against it, making him crave more. He almost felt bad for teasing you so much earlier, but the wait was making him infinitely more excited for what was to come, whatever it might be, whatever it was that you and Moony told each other with that long look from earlier. 

Your hands connected with Remus halfway through the shirt; he undid the last button as you allowed your palms to rest over Sirius’ torso, feeling how warm it was against your hands and feeling a slight chill run down your spine. Was the window still open? You’d been so distracted that you hadn’t even noticed the small snowflakes slipping in from the window and melting against the warm stone. Not that you’d care to close it, but the chill got a reaction either way, voluntarily or not, making your breasts perk up again. Sirius bit his bottom lip, trying to suppress a groan and failing, eyes locked on your breasts.

“Something’s distracting him,” Remus said with a smile, eyeing your erect nipples for a second before focusing back on Sirius’ shirt; if he stared at you any longer, he’d become just as distracted. 

“I noticed,” you replied with a smirk, allowing your nails to gently brush against his torso as you pulled the shirt to the sides. Both you and Remus worked together to remove Sirius’ shirt completely, Remus leaning in to press a short wet kiss against his neck before letting him fall back on the mattress. “Can’t blame him for it either.” 

You smiled, not missing the lascivious look Remus had given you as he kissed the other boy’s neck. You blushed, both aroused and shy; you’d never had two of the hottest people you knew stare at you with such hunger. As if they’d been famished. You swallowed, taking a deep breath, your chest rising and falling gently before leaning in to kiss Sirius’ neck, knowing Remus would appreciate the fact that he’d get his lips. 

For a second, you stared at the two of them kissing, feeling even wetter than before just from the sight. Who would have thought I’d be into that? You wondered as you reached for Sirius’ crotch again. This time you weren’t planning to let him turn you around before he was completely speechless (not that he had much to say now that both you and Remus were onto him). 

While you slid your fingers in between yours and Sirius’ bodies, the back of your hand brushed against Remus’ crotch, earning a soft groan from him. “Sorry,” you mumbled as you continued on your way down.

“Never be sorry about something like this,” he retorted with a sly smile directed your way before he went back to kissing Sirius. 

You managed to unclasp Sirius’ trousers with one hand and pulled them down with the help of a slightly airy and aroused Remus. Now we’re even, you thought, once they were both shirtless and in just their boxers. You barely noticed Sirius’ cock straining against the soft fabric of his underwear before you’d dug your hand inside.

“Mhmhmh!” Sirius moaned into Remus’ kiss. 

Remus smiled, pulling apart for a second just to be able to see Sirius’ face as if he couldn’t quite believe this was really happening: he really was kissing Sirius! You were right there next to the two of them, watching, kissing, feeling, enjoying it as much as he was, enjoying it as much as Sirius was. 

Remus really should have known; he should have known that the two of you wanted him as much as he wanted you – since the Hallowe’en party when you were dancing together, and he thought he was in heaven. He should have realised it then, but what really mattered was that he knew now. 

And there was nothing more exhilarating than being wanted, knowing that he was wanted, and that he was part of you as much as you were a part of him. Even beyond the sex and the kisses, there was a connection so deeply rooted that no poison, no cruel hand and no force of nature could tear them asunder. And he loved it, he loved every bit of it. From Sirius’ soft lips, and his blushed face to your soft – and slightly desperate – breaths. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he told Sirius as he stared into his eyes. Sirius smirked, and you knew he was about to retort with something clever, destroying the adorable moment Remus had just created, so you decided to stop him: you reached inside his pants, wrapped your hand around his cock, and pumped. Whatever Sirius was going to say got caught up in his throat, and instead came one of those lewd moans of his.

He threw you a withering look, and you gave him an innocent shrug in return, “You wanted to say something, Pups?” 

He opened his mouth to speak again, and you repeated the action, causing him to close his lips with barely enough wherewithal to hold his grunt. You just smiled, raising one of your eyebrows at him before turning to Remus, who was looking at you with a rather impish face. 

“He wasn’t joking when he said you were a tease.” 

“No idea what you’re talking about, Rem,” you said, angling your arm so it would brush against his cock again, now getting a moan out of him. 

“Luv, that’s just–” Remus started.

You pumped again, making sure your hand was still brushing against Remus, “Suck it up,” you responded with a smile. You’d been teased by both boys earlier; they deserved to be teased in an equal amount. 

Remus groaned and leaned into you, pressing his lips against your neck with a desperate grunt while sucking moderately, like he’d seen Sirius do to tease you in public. And that was the effect he was trying to get; he just didn’t expect the stifled moan he’d get from you, just from a little sucking near your collarbone. Either way, that wasn’t going to stop your resolve, so you continued pumping Sirius, finding a steady rhythm that had him mumbling incoherencies along with a few profanities, while Remus groaned audibly (from your hand brushing against his crotch), alternating between kissing Sirius’ lips and your neck, in retaliation from your incessant teasing. 

Sirius’s chest heaved up and down, breath ragged from how worked up he was from the kisses and the touches, and of course, your hand that seemed a little too confident with what it was doing. How quickly had you learned to make him feel so heavenly after that one time in the fae pool. 

Remus’ hand was lying on Sirius’ torso when he gently slid it towards your arm, allowing it to brush from your shoulder to your elbows and then down to your wrist; the same wrist he could feel moving on Sirius’ cock, and he was tempted to wrap his own fingers around yours. But there was still some uncertainty in him, a fear of being rejected, of his touches scaring Sirius instead of pleasing him. So he decided to keep his hand there, gently wrapped around your wrist only, his fingers brushing against your skin in a soft, almost repetitive motion as he sighed. 

“Just ask him, Rem,” you said when you noticed his indecisive hold, constantly inching closer to your fisted hand and then pulling back. 

“No– it’s not–” 

“Remus would like to touch you,” you said instead, perhaps a bit too bluntly since Remus glared, as if you had outed him. “Are you okay with that?” you added more softly, slowing down your pace to get Sirius to focus. 

“Of course,” Sirius retorted with a grin, leaning up and pulling Remus’ towards his lips. “You may touch me, wherever and whenever you want, darling,” he added in between kisses. You smiled, feeling Remus’ hand slowly creep around yours, his fingers wrapping completely around your own and helping you pump. Then you slid your hand off gently, allowing his alone to replace it. Remus’ grip was much firmer than yours. “Fuck,” Sirius moaned as the other boy sighed. He could hardly fathom what he was doing – and who he was doing it to – and yet he kept moving his hand, gently pumping as his breath became more ragged. 

Remus’ bigger hand made Sirius feel much smaller, but it covered more ground as it moved, and when he flicked his thumb up to gently rub around his tip, Sirius was a goner. Remus knew exactly what he was doing. 

You raised one of your eyebrows, impressed at how quickly Remus had undone Sirius, and looked down at his hand with curiosity, wondering if you could learn from his technique – and then realising how ridiculous the thought was. Still, the competitive side of you wanted to be just as good, so you stared, moving your hand to Sirius’ inner thigh and rubbing softly, your nails sometimes grazing his skin and causing him to shiver. 

Remus pumped again and turned to you. “Come ‘ere, Little Witch,” he said, leaning down to kiss you as he twisted his hand, earning a grunt from Sirius, whose hips started to bump up towards his hand in an uncontrolled motion. 

“Shit, wait, I think I’m going to–” 

“It’s okay,” Remus said, his teeth gently biting your bottom lip as he pulled from you and turned his eyes back to Sirius.  “I’ll catch it,” he added, his thumb softly brushing against his tip. “Go ahead, Pads, make a mess.” 

“Fuck,” Sirius replied, breathing hard as the first spurt of cum left his cock. Remus caught it with ease, and continued moving his hand.

“You’re doing amazing, Luv,” he said, voice low and slightly just raspy enough to make both yours and Sirius’ mind reel. He was patient, looking at his bright eyes as he continued to milk him to completion, until he finally went soft in his hand.

 Sirius’ head was thrown back on the pillow as he tried to steady his breathing. “Fuck, that was–” he breathed, “You were–” another breath,  “–We should have done this ages ago.” 

You laughed, leaning up on your elbow to look at him better. His face was flushed, lips red and swollen and gaze weary, as if he was still lost in the pleasure you had both given him. You tilted your head to the side and smiled, gently moving your hand towards his face and pulling some of the sweat-stuck curls from his cheek. Sirius really was a sight to behold. As angelic as he was devious, an absolute dream come true. “Gorgeous, isn’t he?” you smiled. 

“Absolutely,” Remus responded, voice low as he turned to you, gaze still as hungry as the one he used to regard Sirius earlier. “And so are you, lovely.” He brought his cum stained hand towards his own boxers, and sighed when he felt the warm sticky substance against his own cock. There was something unfathomably lecherous about having Sirius’ cum around himself, it made his own cock twitch and spurt out a bit of precum. “Little Witch, would you mind if I stare at you shamelessly while I finish myself off?” he asked as he stared at your breasts and pumped himself once. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, while the idea of just being watched was tempting, you weren’t planning on letting him finish by himself. Not if you and Sirius could help it – once he’d recovered, at least. 

“Actually, I do mind,” you responded, and Remus seemed taken aback, his grip around his cock faltering, his lower abdomen burning in protest due to the lack of friction. 

“What?” he managed to say. 

“Well, I don’t mind you looking,” you clarified and then smiled. “I mind the fact that you won’t let me take part,” you leaned towards him; Sirius placed a hand on your back and pushed encouragingly, even as drained as he was. 

“I just thought you might be tired,” Remus said, “that you wouldn’t want–” 

“Don’t make assumptions, Rem,” you said, a hand on his shoulder while you whispered in the most sultry tone you could muster. Your hand moved from there to his collarbone, your fingers gently brushing against his skin before you leaned down and kissed him there. “You may go on,” you added when you realised his hand on his cock still wasn’t moving. 

Remus tightened his grip again, grunting pleasurably when he felt you sucking on the side of his neck. Sirius had leaned up a little bit, watching the two of you even if you were shielding Remus almost completely. 

“Sorry, quite rude of me,” you chastised yourself once you noticed, playfully eyeing Sirius before turning to Remus again. “How about we give him a better look?” you added, pulling your head back to level it to Remus’ gaze. 

Remus seemed confused, about to say something when you leaned down, purposefully tilting yourself towards his lap as you slowly pulled your skirt down, allowing Sirius to get a good view at your rear before sliding it off completely and straightening your back again. “You said you really like it, Pups, didn’t you?” you added before throwing it towards his face. 

Sirius smiled as he pulled it down. Remus, who was still trying to process what was happening, turned to you. There was admiration and raw desire in his eyes as he stared at your fully naked body for the first time. Your breasts falling gracefully as you curved your back, your legs bending smoothly, each one of your curves having a softness, plusness, and delicacy to them. “You’re… absolutely perfect,” he whispered, completely enraptured by you. His hand regained its pace around his cock when he felt it twitch in protest at the lack of movement. His motions were almost languid, softly drawing out the pleasure as much as he could, not wanting the moment to end, not wanting either of you to pull apart. 

He was definitely not expecting you to jump over his thigh, fast but making sure to press yourself against his leg to let him feel how wet you were, before leaning completely on the side, Remus’ profile and your front now in perfect view of Sirius. 

“Better?” you asked him with a sly smirk. 

Sirius gave you a daring look.“Yeah, I think so,” he said nonchalantly. “Except maybe–” he took his wand from the nightstand, “– Evanesco,” he whispered, completely vanishing Remus’ boxers.  

You blinked in disbelief at his wand skill; performing a spell like that was already quite complicated with an object alone, on a person it made it ridiculously tricky, yet he’d done it with little to no effort while being  fucked out and turned on.

“Fucking impressive,” Remus said. 

“For sure,” Sirius replied, staring at the other’s cock, which brought you back to the moment in an instant. 

You looked down at him. You’d felt how big he was before, but seeing it, tall and proud right in the middle of his legs, was something entirely different. Your hand was on his inner thigh in a second, tracing soft circles before wrapping around his own around his cock. He mumbled your name, almost in a warning tone and you pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “Allow me,” you said as you pressed a kiss to his strong shoulders. 

“You don’t have to just because–” 

“I want to,” you said, same soft voice, fingers lacing with his as you managed to fill some of the soft skin around his cock in between them. In a move that was almost the same as the one he’d done with Sirius’ cock, your hands switched with each other, and now yours were wrapped around him, Sirius’ sticky cum acting as a lubricant as you started to pump. 

“Fuck,” Remus sighed, looking at your hand moving on him, your beautiful face in rapt concentration trying to find just the right up-and-down pattern that had him moaning your name. It didn’t take you too long. And while he absolutely loved the euphoria you were giving him, he still didn’t want it to end. A bed with two of you on it was already heaven. A bed with the two of you, stripped naked, was far beyond it. He, of course, didn’t want to cum down from it. 

But your hand was making it almost impossible for him to continue holding back, and when he thought he was about to cum he gripped the sheets tightly, “Little Witch, I think I’m going to–”

You pulled your hand off him before he finished the sentence, allowing your thumb to brush over his tip in a torturous and impossibly teasing manner. The look he gave you was so helpless it was almost comical. Brows furrowed, chest heaving up and down and an incredulous look on his face. Sirius regarded the two of you amusedly, his dick was half hard again. 

Remus could barely muster his words as he looked at you, still in disbelief. “To cum?” you asked nonchalantly. “I figured.”

“Then why would you–” he couldn’t finish his sentence, you jumped back towards his lap, legs around his own and closed the gap between your bodies, allowing the tip of his cock to brush against your folds. “Because I want you cumming somewhere else.” 

“What?!” he asked, voice a mere squeak. 

“She’s taking the potion,” Sirius said, looking at you to confirm. You nodded, and rocked your hips against Remus, pulling your hand down and positioning him, first letting his tip brush over your folds, your breath hitching as it touched your clit. 

Remus, who only now seemed to have gathered his wits, blinked a couple of times before placing both hands on your shoulders. “Wait, no, wait!” he said, alarmed as he pushed you back gently. You instantly stopped touching him, looking at him with concern, frowning your brows and searching for his face that seemed alarmed. He looked down on himself and you, so close, he thought. 

“What is it?” you asked, confused and slightly upset. He doesn’t want me, a voice in your head seemed to say. That’s ridiculous, he definitely wants you! Another responded. 

“I can’t–” he said. “Not without rubbers.” 

“Rubbers?” you asked. He nodded towards the pack of condoms still on the floor. “What– Why do you need those?” 

“Because of Moony,” he said solemnly. 

There was instant understanding in your head, the tension from earlier relinquishing, your shoulders relaxing, apprehension leaving you entirely. You placed your hand around his neck, gently brushing the nape with the pads of your fingers. He seemed to also relax into your touch. 

“Rem, Luv. Lycanthropy does not work like that,” you said reassuringly. You finally understood why he insisted on carrying them with him, he was terrified of turning someone into a werewolf.

“You don’t know!” he retorted. There was apprehension and perhaps, a hint of pain or resentment towards himself stuck in his gaze.

“She’s read a whole lot about werewolves though,” Sirius said. “Knows way more than I do; I reckon she knows even more than–” 

“You don’t know!” Remus insisted. 

“Right,” you said appeasingly. His eyes were golden, but not with pleasure this time around, more like he’d been cornered. You breathed, trying to think of the right way you say it, “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t, but there is no need to rush it. We can wait, ask around, and only go for it when we’re sure. How does that sound?” 

Remus seemed to finally breathe again, you saw the tension release his muscles just like it had done with yours earlier and you smiled, leaning closer to him and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Meanwhile,” you smiled, raising your hand and channeling all your energy as you’d practice while flying and pulled the strip of rubbers into your hand. “We can use these…” you said with a raised eyebrow and a suggestive smile. “If you’re still up for it,” you added, although his cock, still standing proud, gave you half the answer. 

He laughed, his gaze turning to the side as he bit his lip. Of course he wanted it, he needed it like he needed air and water.  “You don’t give up easily, do you?” 

“You should have known by now, Moony,” Sirius said as he pulled himself a little bit higher on the bed, earning a somewhat better view of both of your faces. The tension from the earlier situation had been enough to snap him from his fucked-out tiredness and fueled him with some much-needed adrenaline. “She’s dating the two of us, even after you played hard to get.” 

You straight up laughed at his comment. “Such an idiot,” you mumbled. 

Sirius just smiled confidently and leaned close enough to press a kiss to Remus’ shoulder and looked at you through his lashes. “Perhaps, but without your stubbornness, we wouldn’t be here,” he teased further. 

“Oh, shut it,” you smiled, playfully trying to push Sirius’ face off of Remus’ shoulder, but he was faster, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer to him, causing your folds to smash against Remus’ hard cock again and instantly earning a groan from him. 

Sirius bit his lip as he looked down. “Come on, Étoile, I think it’s time to end our poor guy’s suffering.” 

You smiled, pulling back to rip one of the rubbers from the strip and giving it to Remus. “I guess he will teach you how to use them in the end,” you added with a teasing grin and Remus’ hands carefully opened the silver package and slowly rolled down the condom around himself.  

“Does it feel different?” Sirius asked out of curiosity, not quite thinking. 

Before Remus even had time to think of the answer, which you assumed he wouldn’t have, you replied, “We can try later and you tell us.” You turned to Remus and smiled, “Ready?” 

He smiled and nodded in return. You breathed, raising yourself a little and grabbing his cock to line it with your entrance. He stared at your hand in his cock, and then at your determined gaze as you accommodated yourself, his breath getting caught in his throat as he braced himself for what was about to happen. Feeling completely unprepared and utterly ready at the same time. 

You breathed and slowly lowered yourself on him. Remus’ hands were instantly on your waist, taking away some of the weight from your legs as you slowly sank into him. “You good?” he asked about halfway through. Sirius pressed a quick kiss to his neck as he smiled, his nose and lips still brushing against the other’s skin. Of course, Remus would take the time to ask about your well-being in such a situation, he thought.

“Mhm,” you managed to say with a nod; he could hear the slight strain in your voice, you were adjusting to him. Sirius already suspected there hadn’t been that many times for you before, he’d ask eventually, not out of jealousy, but out of curiosity. As you continued to lower yourself onto Remus’ cock you breathed deeply. 

Remus looked like he was trying his hardest not to move. Sirius could easily feel the tension on his shoulders and muscles, the stutter in his breath, the restraint he was enacting to be able to hold back. But he waited nonetheless. You had your head hidden in his neck, and were still breathing rather deeply, Remus was gently brushing his hands on your back now. “Still good?” He asked as he gently turned his head towards you. He couldn’t see your face but you smiled as you clenched around him in response. “Fuck!” 

“She just fucking clenched, didn’t she?” Sirius said with a wicked smile, leaning a little bit higher on his shins as he tried to look at the spot where the two of you were joined. He swallowed when he did. He had imagined what that looked like on the fae pool, but seeing it, even if it was Remus’ cock instead of his own, was doing it for him. His hand travelled to his cock, he couldn’t care less if he was going to be sore later. 

“Yeah, she– ah!”

“Did it again,” Sirius finished as he bit his lip, his hand already pumping gently as his thumb brushed his tip. 

“Thought you might like it,” you said. Remus still couldn’t see your smile, but he sure as hell heard it. You pressed a kiss to his neck, as you started to move, your hips slow and gentle as they moved out and in, and you squeezed. 

“Shit,” Remus said as he sighed. “You feel fucking amazing!” 

“I bet she does,” Sirius whispered with a smile, thinking of how you felt wrapped around his cock as he continued to touch himself. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you joked as you pressed another wet kiss to his neck. 

Remus managed to get conscious enough to look at Sirius with a raised eyebrow. Sirius shrugged in return. “Not so bad?” he said, a playful smile appearing on his lips, despite how overwhelmed he already was. “Can’t leave my girl with that impression, can I?” He asked, eyeing the other boy seconds after. 

Sirius  seemed to understand whatever it was Remus meant with that comment almost instantly and smiled, the time it took you to react to the exchange was cut short by Remus grabbing your waist and flipping the two of you around, your head landing softly onto a pillow as he laid you down on the bed. 

You swallowed as you looked at him, one hand still wrapped around your waist while he used the other to hold himself up. He looked at you with a sly smirk, as if he knew exactly what each ragged breath that came from your delicate lips meant. You looked back at him with parted lips, your heart beating faster as your eyes locked on his, both shining with lust.

“That was hot,” Sirius commented with a smile, “She liked it.”

“I know,” Remus replied with a smile as he pulled his arm from underneath you. “I felt it,” he added with a smile. He was still, looking at you with a teasing grin. As if waiting for you to ask him to move. You held his stare defiantly and clenched. He cursed. “You really are a charming li–” you clenched again and he stopped breathing for a second, biting his lips while he regained his focus. “–Little Witch,” he finished. 

“Thought that’s the reason you–” he placed his free hand on your breast, pinching your nipple as he stared straight at you– “call me that,” you finished with a smile. 

So playful, Sirius thought as he looked at the two of you, perhaps I could make things happen. Sirius leaned closer, switching his left hand to his cock to leave his dominant free and move that one between your bodies. He sneaked it in right to the place where the two connected and then pressed his index to your clit while his knuckles brushed the top side of Remus’ cock, drawing slow circles onto both. Although he couldn’t see directly, he was remarkably good at finding soft spots, and he could tell once he had.

Remus seemed to shiver, his hips moving slightly back as he touched him, also a result of your very tight clenching once Sirius started circling your clit. “Stop torturing each other,” Sirius said playfully. “You both know how fucking incredible you are.” 

You smiled, and angled your hips upwards, sinking deeper into Remus’ cock before pulling back down again. Remus sighed in pleasure and started to move his hips as well, Sirius’ hand in between your bodies adding an extra layer of friction that had both of your minds reeling.

As Remus continued thrusting into you he leaned closer, his skin craving yours like a famished animal, a yearning he’d withheld for too long finally finding solace; in the plushness of your breasts and the hardness of your nipples, in the curve of your waist and mellow sounds your throat kept making. For him. 

 He had enough sense left to press soft, wet kisses against your lips, cheeks and jaw, as he relished on the myriad of feelings you were giving rise to. His nose, buried in your hair, the way you smelled of sweat and perfume and Sirius, was so perfect that he was overwhelmed with the sensory overload of it all. His breath tickled the soft skin of your neck as he continued to pound into you.

“You’re amazing… you feel amazing,” he mumbled as he thrusted, feeling Sirius’ hand with each move of his hips which was driving him just as mad as your walls wrapped around his cock. He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “I never imagined I would– fuck.”  

“I know,” you said breathily. “Fuck, I know,” you added, your hips chasing his own, matching his pace and surpassing it with frantic movements.

You weren’t sure where you ended and he started, let alone whether either of you could think properly at this point, at least not past basic actions: hips moving, kissing and mumbling senseless incoherencies; soft loving words, moans and curses blended into the atmosphere around you, the vibration of your voices saturating the air like stars in the sky.

Sirius wasn’t much better either, with one of his hands right between the two of you and the other on his cock, his thoughts were mostly focused on how alluring Remus’ back looked as it flexed, and how wonderful you looked right under him, your hair sprawled to the sides, making sounds that were as obscene as they were delightful.  

At some point Remus managed to push Sirius into a laying flat position, having him almost beside you so he could reach his mouth while he continued to fuck into you. He could have both, he had both, and heaven was nothing but a petty promise in comparison to it. His movements became faster and more erratic the further it went.  He kissed Sirius��� soft lips, losing himself on the boy for what could have been an eternity from how intense it felt. 

“Fuck, Rem,” you managed to whimper, driving his focus back to you.

It might have been Sirius’ hand the one circling your clit and making your mind grow even fuzzier, but it was Remus’ weight on top of you, it was his strong chest the one pressing you onto the bed, his cock stretching your walls so tight that you barely noticed the slick wetness leaving your body as he fucked you, running from the place where your bodies connected toward your ass, and finally drenching the bedsheets. 

Oh, how bad you three were ruining that bed…

“You’re close, aren’t you, Starshine?” Sirius asked while Remus’ panting breaths mingled with yours. Both of Sirius’ hands were busy, but Remus had been alternating between kissing you and Sirius, switching almost any time he needed to stop to breathe. He wondered if there was a way of being even closer to the two of you, and hoped he’d have time to figure it out. 

“Mhm...” you moaned.. “Think he… he’s too,” you added, noticing how much more erratic his movements had become. You clenched harder, and you noticed how tense he’d become, his abs tightening and his head buried in the curve of your neck instead of returning to kiss. Sirius eyed him, Remus had his eyes clenched shut as he focused, trying to fuck you through his own high. 

“It’s okay,” you cooed as you noticed him struggling to hold. You couldn’t quite feel his cum inside you, but you felt the warmth either way. 

“No, I wanted you to–” 

“It really is okay,” Sirius reassured him as well. His hand on your clit did not stop even when Remus’ movements started to slow. And your breath became ragged until you saw stars, gently moaning his names.  Eventually, his hand slowed, stilling right in the middle when Remus’ weight fell onto the two of you. Remus breathed; exhausted, delighted, awed  – He’d glimpsed at whatever lays beyond heaven for the first time in his life. 

His body pressed into you and Sirius, sated and spent, Remus uttered, “I love you both so fucking much,” without even thinking. And then he tensed, looking up and at the other boy’s face with eyes wide open, as if he’d just said something ludicrous. 

You smiled, moving one of your hands to rest against his arm, but Sirius beat you to speak, with a smile on his face, looking back at Remus with a tenderness that you had only seen a few times, on those rare occasions he let out raw honesty. “We love you too, Remus.” 

“To the moon and back,” you added with a fucked out and yet slightly teasing smile. 

You stayed like that, tangled together for a while, enjoying the sweet moment until Remus accidentally moved his arm and noticed Sirius’ cock still hard. He bit his lip. He was still half-soft inside you when he grabbed it and started pumping on it lazily. You didn’t have much space to move, but you managed to get one of your hands onto Sirius’ head and gently scratched his scalp with your hands as Remus helped him finish again. 

His sounds were enough to make you wet again, coating Remus’ half-hardness as he continued to pump. It didn’t take longer than a few minutes for Sirius to cum onto Remus’ hand again, making a mess on the bed that equaled the one you had made earlier. 

“I swear I’d go on for days if tiredness wasn’t a factor,” Sirius sighed contentedly as he looked at Remus and then at you, getting a glimpse of one of your still hard nipples, the lack of movement making you finally notice how cold it had gotten.

“Bet,” you said with a smile, and pulled the side of the duvet that wasn’t squelched under the three of you to cover yourself from the cold.

Remus sighed, and placed one of his hands in between your head and Sirius’, attempting to stand, but both you and Sirius pulled him back down. “Let’s stay like this a little longer,” Sirius mumbled. 

“I’m still inside–” 

“–Does it bother you, Starshine?” 

“What?” you asked, turning back to him – you’d been looking at the window, trying to shut it with wandless magic, but you were too tired to properly work it out. Honestly, you were still shocked at the fact that you’d successfully accio'd the condoms earlier. 

Sirius looked down. Remus hid his face on the boy’s chest, feeling rather bashful at Sirius’ shameless staring. 

“Oh,” you said. “Not at all, I’m just cold.” 

Remus moved his hand without even looking and the windows shut by themselves. The temperature in the room warmed almost instantly. 

“Fucking impressive,” you said. “I’d been trying to do that for the past few minutes.” 

“While Remus was helping me cu–” 

“–I was cold,” you added before he said something obscene. In return, he wiggled the finger that was still on your clit and you hissed. “Stop teasing! We’re all exhausted.” 

“Are we, though?” 

“Yes,” both you and Remus retorted and Sirius just smiled. You stayed like that for a little while longer. Enjoying the way their skin felt against yours, and the way they felt against each other. You wondered if it would ever get better than this; it seemed impossible, but the two of them had already shown you how “impossible” could be easily conquered. 

“We should clean up and get dressed before they get here,” Remus said as he raised his head and looked at the clock. “We don’t want James or Peter to see us like this.” 

“Hm…” Sirius said thoughtfully. “That could be a way of telling him.” 

“That could be a way to scare the shit out of him,” you responded.

“But then after the shock, he’d know,” Sirius tried to reason. 

“You’re absolutely mental,” Remus said as he pressed a kiss to the boy’s collarbone, and your lips, and pushed himself up. This time neither of you stopped him. He got out of you with a low hiss and pulled the condom off before vanishing it. 

“Étoile,” Sirius asked as he watched Remus’ rubber disappear. “How are you planning to figure that one out?” 

“I have contacts,” you said with a smirk. And then looked down on yourself. You were still rather wet and sticky. Perhaps I could take a quick shower, you thought while looking at the bathroom. Remus and Sirius weren’t much better either, Remus was sticky with Sirius’ first orgasm and Sirius still had cum all over his belly. “We’re a mess.” 

“A beautiful mess,” Remus smiled. 

“A delightful mess,” Sirius agreed. 

You looked at Remus, leaning on his shins as he stood from the bed, he had a small purple mark near his collarbone, which blended seamlessly with some of his scars. You had no idea if that had been you or Sirius that caused it, the fact that it could be either one was exhilarating. “Couldn’t agree more…” 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Remus said, extending his hand to you. 

“What? Aftercare?” you asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Sirius, have you been neglecting our girl?” Remus teased as he looked at the other boy. 

“Last time we fucked it was in the water, and trust me, I cared mighty well for her.” 

You laughed and didn’t complain as Remus pulled you to their bathroom and started the taps. “Not so hot,” Sirius said from the room as he cleaned the bedsheets with a swipe of his wand. He knew Remus usually took scalding showers. 

“You’re not even here,” Remus retorted from the bathroom, although he did open the cold tap a little further. 

“Yet…” Sirius added, and you laughed. There was no way in hell the three of you would fit into the small bath.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Hope you like this one. Next week we might not get a chapter because I weill be exceptionally busy, but I'll try either way. Love, Lils

Leave a comment telling me if you wanna be tagged on Gilded Constellations

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[ltgubler]

Behind closed doors. | s.r. |

pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

word count: 1.1k

summary: forbidden relationship, secrets, college professor x student.

The dim light of the hallway was guiding your path down to his office; the darkness of night covered every window, there wasn't a soul around to hear the sound of your steps echoing, or maybe that echo was the beating of your heart chiming like clockwork in your eardrums.

His office door was slightly open, an orange hue of light casting from the lamp sitting at his desk. It was that familiar sight of the previous moment to get to his arms. With a soft knock to announce yourself you stepped in, closing the door behind you.

"Hi." —you said with the shy voice you always have when you see him, something that has become inevitable. He raised his head from the pile of papers on top of his desk. As you looked at him you dissected every tiny detail: the frame of his glasses delicately resting on the bridge of his nose, the loose tie around his neck, that soft rebel curl that always fells down over his forehead, the blue ink stains on his hands.

"Did anyone see you?" —he asked you as you dropped your bag and walked to him. The rules have been crystal clear since this started, no one can see you, no one can find out.

The first time it happened was on accident, pure coincidence, right place, right time, and definitely right person. There wasn't any scenario were this was going to end up well, everything was at risk. His job, his reputation, your scholarship, everything you two worked so hard to get, to achieve; in a blink of an eye you could lose everything, but neither him nor you seemed to care.

"The building was empty, kind of creepy actually." —you pointed out, standing beside him, waiting for his touch. His arm strongly wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his embrace.

"I missed you, my classes are dull since you finished my course." —he confessed as he sat you on his lap, his nose ghosted over the skin of your shoulder. –"No one comes close to your brain, you know?"

His words were music to your ears, the way he praised you was what got you into this, into him.

"I don't think that's fair for your new students." —A soft little laugh escaped his lips.

"Maybe not, but I couldn't care less about them." —You raised your eyebrows, surprised. –"No, I mean... Of course I care about them. I just miss you." —he breathed out, defeated.

"I missed you too, by the way." — you confession made him squeez you tighter. As his chin rested on you shoulder, his nose buried on your hair, you couldn't stop yourself from wondering. –"Do you think this could have a happy ending?" —your words hung on the air for a little too long.

"I don't know." —he finally responded. His fingers traced loose patterns over your thigh, his mind trying to put together something to say, something that could make both of you feel better. –"It's hard picturing the future... We been living day by day, why would we be worried about something we can't control?" —His words fell heavy on the pit of your stomach, the uncertainty, the empty promises. Risking it all for something he couldn't project forward.

"Then why are we doing this?" —your voice broke the silence that flooded his office. –"If you don't see a future with me, why do you keep me around?" –his demeanor shifter, his body tensed up.

"That's not what I mean, not at all." —he leaned back on his chair, his hands still on you, but it felt like he was taking distance, even if you where still sitting on his lap. –"I want to see a future with you, believe me. But that future feels far away, and I don't want to lose what we have now."

"What we have is a secret, Spencer." —your words hit him. His eyes scanned your face, trying to read you. –"Is it worth it risking everything? I could lose it all, I'm in constant fear of being caught, and I'm not only scared about me, I am for you too. This job is your life, and in the blink of an eye everything can crumble down..."

"Please... Please don't." —his whispered words made you stop, his hands cupped your face, pulling you closer. Your forehead rested on his, his breath warm against your skin. –"Maybe I can't face the fact that I'm terrified, I can't imagine losing you, my love. The idea of not having you is devastating. I can't picture my mornings without you, not waking up to the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of your laughter." —the worry in your eyes made him realize that everything he thought was wrong, there wasn't a single scenario in his head where you weren't a part of. After the longest pause he spoke again, putting you at ease. –"I guess I am picturing a future with you, because the sole idea of being without you is making my heart ache."

It felt genuine, it felt real, it felt right. You felt yourself melting into his embrace, your body fitting against his like two puzzle pieces that belonged together. His lips ghosted over yours, leaving you craving for more that just a caress of them.

"___, I love you more than words can describe, for you I would risk everything, because there's nothing left for me if there's no you." —his words were pure, a raw emotion that came straight from his heart, aiming for yours. "And if I have to prove myself to you, I'll do it."

"You don't have to prove anything." –your soft, vulnerable whisper made his heart skip a beat.

"Wrong. I have to prove everything, because how are you gonna know that I love you if I keep quiet." –there was a hint of playfulness in his voice.

"Knowing that you love me is enough." —he could feel his heart beating faster at your words.

"Then I'll keep telling you until you get tired of me, but please, don't get tired of me." —there was a vulnerability he never showed before.

"I promise I won't get tired." —he smiled and buried his face on the crook of your neck.

The silence grew for a moment, comfortable and warm, no words were needed after that confession, nothing else to say. You closed your eyes as you sat comfortable on him, the place where you belong.

"I love you, ___" —he whispered and you knew there was no turning back now.

[lvrsturniolo]

belt ✧M.S

warnings: Spanking, Bratty!Sub!Reader x Brat tamer!Dom!Matt, no actual p in v, Name Calling(Brat, Slut, Sweetheart, Baby, etc.), SUPER DOM MATT!!!, Lowkey(highkey) Mean!Matt, pain kink!matt, I believe that’s all but lmk if I missed any!!

(not proofread)

inspired by this clip

synopsis: Matt was sick and tired of this bratty attitude you’ve been carrying around all day, so he puts an end to it.

You and Matt had been out all day, and you’d been an absolute brat. leaving him once in the stores, talking back to him, ignoring him in the car, pushing his hand away when he tries to touch you, and he’s sick of it.

The ride home was completely silent, and honestly, you’re a little scared. But everything’s just been making you so mad today, you could care less that you’ve pissed Matt off. The second you’re home he pulls the bags from shopping out of your hands, grabbing your wrist harshly and basically dragging you to your shared bedroom. “You’ve been such a bad fucking girl today, I think you deserve to be punished”

Shit. There are two different types of punishments Matt gives, he either fucks the attitude out of you, or he spanks the attitude out of you. You always enjoyed when he got rough with you, but God did it hurt when he spanked you. And you’ve made him so mad, you know that’s what’s coming.

“W-wait sweetheart, I-I’m sorry for being pissy today- I promise I’ll fix my act- you don’t have to punish me” I say, silently praying that he’d have a change of heard and accept my apology. But I should have known better.

He actually ignores your sudden change in attitude, shoving you down onto the bed before unbuckling his belt. he pulls it out of the loops with a snap before folding it in half, the leather creaking ominously. he points to the bed with the belt. “over my lap, now.” He spits harshly, scaring you even more.

“Matt please!” You try again to reason with him, but you’d be a fool to think he’d change his mind after being this angry with you.

He grips your wrist to pull you over his lap since you aren’t listening, positioning you facing the bed with your belly down. he lays over top of your legs before wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you in place. “stop fucking arguing with me.” his free hand raises the belt.

The belt snaps down hard on your bottom, making you yelp. He doesn’t say anything else, bringing the belt down again and again, covering your cheeks with red welts. He spanks hard and fast, making sure your thighs don’t escape the punishment either.

“M-Matt please! P-please!” you whimper as hot tears stream down your face.

After numerous harsh blows, he tosses the belt aside, rubbing your burning ass. "Hurts, doesn’t it baby? should’ve thought about that before acting like a brat all fucking day." His voice is calm but stern as he continues to firmly knead your punished cheeks. “How does this gorgeous ass feel now, hmm?”

“N-ot good!” You hiccup through tears

“That’s the point, sweetheart.” he suddenly stands, lifting you up with him and tossing you onto the bed. he climbs on top, parting your legs roughly. He sits back on his heels, keeping your legs spread wide as he runs his fingers over your reddened ass possessively. He can see the red welts from the belt, and it makes him feel satisfied that you’re finally getting punished properly.

He can’t help notice how soaked you are though, and it causes him to growl possessively as he runs his middle finger through your folds.

“P-please touch me- Matt” you whimper needily.

“Awh you poor baby, don’t you know only good girls get to cum? Get to be touched? And you’ve been a fucking brat.”

—————————————————————

Mel speaks: I made a post earlier, and @mattybsgroupie reblogged w/ this, and it gave me the idea for this fic so idea creds to them!!! Hope yall like this 😋😋

[rainebelowzero]

kurt brainrot is real!!! may i request something with like friends to lovers i guess? kurt wants reader and is really awkward and cringe and whiny and freaky :p post-op trans reader?! love ur stuff dude ur so cool!!

Down bad Kurt Kunkle x Trans Male Reader (long ass title sorry)

notes: thank you! Sorry this took so long :') also I agree, I've had Kurt brainrot since like 2022. I have like three requests I'm working on so expect those some time soon (for real this time 🙏), also one of them is my first Eddie request so yippee 🥳🥳🥳 the other two are Kurt so I'm gonna work on them today, at least one might be out by tonight??? It's like almost 11am for me so probably earlier than that

♡ Kurt is a freak, car sex (kinda?), trans reader, spit, mention of choking, mention of slapping, sorta mild masochism (??), making him eat his own cum, premature ejaculation, reader asks him out at the end awww ♡

You often went on rides with Kurt, fucking around while he works. Sometimes people complain about the fact that there's another person in his car when they get picked up, but usually they don't really care, and it was an interesting experience to see all kinds of people from Azusa. Plus, Kurt loved having you around, and you usually get free food out of it.

He really, really liked you. In a way that wasn't completely normal. You mostly saw it as him just being awkward, especially with the way that a lot of the time after you touched him, he'd get all fidgety. You weren't stupid, you knew damn well. It was just fun to tease him. What you didn't know about though, were the more secretive things he was doing, like stealing your things when you weren't looking, or jerking off every time you posted on your close friends story on Instagram.

It drove him insane, every little touch, every look, he spent hours getting off to a picture of your body after your top surgery healed, he was obsessed. He tried to brag around you, do that thing guys did when they would talk about other people they “liked” to make the real person they like jealous. You knew it was bullshit, and after getting no reaction from you, he kind of just stopped doing it. And the amount of times he almost drove straight off the road because he was looking at you were way too many.

It was just a normal day of your usual routine, sitting in his car. It was a hot day, and you had taken off your jacket, sweating. Kurt's A/C was broken, so it was actual torture. Not for Kurt though. No, he was very much enjoying the sight of you. At some point, it became unbearable, and you, being more horny than usual, wanted Kurt. He was pretty cute. And you ended up on top of him, basically every single fantasy Kurt has ever had since he met you.

Kurt watches you with almost wide eyes, and if he were in a cartoon, there'd be little hearts in them as you straddle his waist, finding the most comfortable way to do that without hitting your head on the ceiling of his car interior. It's a little difficult, considering you were two grown men, but you made it work, your hands cupping the man's face.

His skin is warm, face flushed as he stares up at you, barely breathing. You lean down, catching his lips in yours. His movements are uncoordinated, inexperienced, but you don't care, you hold his head in place as you stay against him. You pull away slightly, still close enough to feel each other's breaths, and Kurt's hand snakes up, pressing against your chest. He pulls it away as fast as it settles there.

“Sorry.” He says softly, but you catch his wrist, holding his hand against yourself back in place.

“It's okay.” You respond, voice low. His fingers grip your shirt gently while you lean back down, kissing him again. His lips part slightly, and you grip his jaw, not too hard, but enough to hold him in place. His eyes follow you curiously, and as you lean over him, you urge him to open up.

He opens his mouth a little more, sticking his tongue out a little, and you spit right into his mouth. He lets out a sound, a low groan that almost turns into a desperate whine as he swallows it, some of it dripping down his chin before he can lick it away. You kiss him again, sloppily as your hands roam his body and he tightly grips the front of your shirt.

He can't believe this is happening. He had been into you for almost your entire friendship, and now you were feeling up on him and your tongue was in his mouth. You can feel his erection beneath you, and he whimpers every time you move around in his lap. You do it a few times on purpose, teasing him while you tangle a hand in his hair. When you pull away, he stares up at you, eyes fully entranced in your features as he pants, trying to catch his breath.

It's taking literally every shred of self control for Kurt to not immediately cum in his pants. He's straining hard against his jeans, and he was definitely going to jerk off to this memory later with the shirt he stole from you the last time he went over to your place.

You run your hands down his chest, and he can't help but admire your hands. He wants them around his throat, like that one time he tried to choke himself (it didn't work out). You'd know how to do it, he thinks. You'd wrap those perfect fingers around his throat, squeezing in a way to make Kurt so deliciously close to passing out, just to let him breathe at the last second.

He thinks about letting you slap him around, though he'd really let you do anything to him. Anything you wanted, he'd say yes in an instant. He's probably jerked off to worse.

Your hands meet his belt, and you get his pants down, pulling his hard cock out. He's leaking like crazy, so much you kind of think he already came, but he bucks his hips up when you touch him, the best he can with you in his lap. He doesn't really know what to do with his hands, but he's happy when you don't disapprove of him snaking his hands under your shirt. His fingers run over your scars, before he suddenly gasps loudly. You press the nail of your thumb against the head of his dick, and it hurts so good, making Kurt squirm under you.

He whines, and with about three or four quick pumps, accompanied by slick precum covering your hand and his cock, he's thrashing underneath you, panting and whining as ropes of cum shoot up into his stomach and over your hand. It takes you by surprise, and you both kind of stare at each other as soon as Kurt comes down from the high and realizes what happened.

“I-I…that’s never happened before.” He chokes out, very embarrassed, though the humiliation kind of makes him a little harder. You console him, and a small part of Kurt was wishing you'd degrade him for it, but that's for another time.

Instead, you swipe your fingers against the man's shirt, collecting some of his cum. He gulps as you raise your hand to his mouth. “Aren't you gonna help me clean up?” You say, and it almost makes Kurt cum again on the spot.

He hesitantly sticks his tongue out, dragging it across your fingers before you shove both of them into his mouth. He moans softly, before lapping up his mess, cleaning off your hands. He can't handle it without whining, his cock twitching and throbbing with need, purely getting off on the image of you feeding him his own cum.

When he finishes, you wipe your hand off on your shirt, kissing him again and sliding back into your seat. Kurt fixes his appearance,and the drive to drop you off is mostly silent, though Kurt keeps looking away from the road to glance at you. When you get there, he looks away, something nagging at him.

“Do- should..we just forget about that?” He asks. He wouldn't be able to, no matter what.

You shrug. “We should go on a real date sometime.” You say, kissing his cheek and then getting out of the car.

He's instantly rock hard again.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Hogwarts AU [pt.9]

Tim turns a corner, keeping his steps as quick and soundless as possible, and desperately tries not to panic.

The hallway around him is not dark, per se - it still has a few torches lit up on the walls - but it's definitely not one other students use a lot. That's not to mention the fact that it must be well past curfew now. Which makes sense to why there's no one else around him, right.

Except for the loud meowing he can hear on the other end of the hallway.

And the voice of Hogwarts' Caretaker, who Tim already knows to be a rather awful, mean, and merciless man from the rumors. He would very much like to keep knowing him through the rumors only, thank you. He's already screwed up his House allegiance somewhat by pairing up with a Hufflepuff in Potions and just barely got past it, he can't get detention now!

The problem is, though, that he has no idea where he is. The castle is huge. The staircases are moving with little pattern or system to them; or if there is one, then Tim hadn't figured it yet. It's only been two weeks, so he only just got used to having scheduled classes in general.

Tim turns left at the intersection of two corridors and frantically looks for anything that can help him. A familiar portrait, a staircase down - because he knows he must be on one of the top floors, judging by the vantage point of view from the windows - an alcove to hide.

Literally anything would do at this point, please, he doesn't want to get in trouble tonight, he just wants to go back to the dungeons and-

The flap of a tapestry on his right moves all of a sudden, and in the next moment, cold fingers wrap around his wrist. In a blink of an eye, Tim finds himself yanked behind the tapestry, and another cold hand slapped over his mouth to stop him from making a sound.

When he looks up, he is... Well, not incredibly surprised to find Danny being his unexpected savior.

He is honestly more bewildered by the fact that the boy's hair seems to be very faintly glowing. Kind of like a shimmer of a ghost in the dark, only dimmer.

Tim makes a muffled, confused sound, raising his eyebrows, but Danny apparently doesn't give one single shit about his questions. Instead, he stares into Tim's eyes and whispers, "Do you trust me?"

And, generally? Debatable. Tim could have sworn 'Trouble' was Daniel Fenton's middle name if he didn't know it was actually 'Jackson'. Besides, even if his face looks serious enough in the darkness of the alcove, there's still that unmistakable hint of mischief in his voice. Tim is familiar with it; it's the mischief that gets the Potions classroom covered in exploding bubbles of glitter that doesn't come off with any cleaning spells.

But, right here and right now, when Mr. Filch's very recognizable steps are coming closer and closer to their hiding place?

Tim eagerly nods a few times, not taking his gaze off Danny and hoping to convey 'there's no better time for me to trust you than now' through his wide eyes alone.

In the dim glow of Danny's hair, Tim sees his lips stretch in a devious grin.

And then, they are suddenly back out in the hallway and running, his hand still held by the wrist. Danny doesn't care in the slightest for how much noise he is making, and Tim doesn't have enough time to as much as think about trying to be quiet. Not that he even can, what with them both sprinting down the corridor and turning corners with seemingly no direction.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Mr. Filch's screeching voice echoes off the walls and shining suits of armor. Tim hears other voices as well - the yelps of the awoken portraits and a mad laughter that must be coming from Peeves - but Danny doesn't seem bothered. If anything, he speeds up.

"When I say 'jump', you jump, alright?" The boy looks over his shoulder for a moment, an exhilarated grin on his face, and Tim nearly trips at that sudden command. He'd really rather not, but, well, he did say he trusted Danny mere seconds ago.

He nods, even if Danny doesn't see it.

They turn another corner, Caretaker's loud steps hot on their heels, and Tim's brief excitement - hey, they've found the moving staircases! - very quickly turns into dawning horror - oh, no, they've found the moving staircases. This so doesn't bode well with what Danny asked him to do.

They run down the first staircase they come across, skipping steps. And yet, just as the tiniest hope of his suspicions being wrong rises in Tim's chest, Danny all but throws him closer to the railings, yells, "Jump!" and fucking throws himself over.

To be fair, even if Tim tried not to follow him, his wrist is still firmly in Danny's fingers. So, he figures in the matter of split second, better go down on his own volition than head first.

He jumps.

Staircases fly past him at the speed of a racing broom, and Tim really, really struggles to keep his mouth closed so as not to scream and risk biting his tongue. Danny evidently doesn't have such reservations, his laughter echoing off the stone walls and ceilings.

They miss a moving flight of stairs by mere inches, the shadow of it covering them a moment later. Mr. Filch is still yelling somewhere up above, but at least he didn't jump after them, so that's good. Small mercies and all that.

Only Tim can't bring himself to be happy about it.

Not when the ground is approaching and doing so rapidly.

He squeezes his eyes shut, instinctively bracing himself for the impact, but it never comes. Instead, there's a sudden lurch in his stomach, and his body feels weightless for a solid second - kind of like when someone casts a levitation charm on you, but quicker and lighter - and then it's gone, and Tim is dropped down on his feet, almost gently.

He stumbles, snapping his eyes open and holding on to Danny's hand tighter to keep his balance.

"What-" he starts, but the boy is already pulling him further, through the hall and into a narrow pathway leading down, and, before Tim realizes it, he is standing in a familiar corridor.

They are in the dungeons. Barely twenty feet away from Slytherin common room.

Tim jerks his head to the left, staring at Danny intently, "How the bluggering fuck?" Up until now, it was Danny who's been holding his hand tight. Now, the roles are reversed, and it is Tim who is gripping the other boy's wrist, not taking his chances at watching him escape into the night.

Danny grins so wide Tim fears his face is going to crack. "You gotta be a little more specific," he teases, but Tim is having none of it. His heart is still hammering in his chest from all the running and falling, and his head is a mess - both physically and metaphorically.

"We fell through at least three floors down," he says pointedly, and Danny nods.

"Yeah, we did," he admits, but offers no more.

Tim narrows his eyes, "How are we not two vaguely human-shaped splots on the ground?" Out of all the important things to ask, like why did you think it was a good idea or what were you even doing hiding behind a tapestry after curfew, he starts with that part.

Danny shrugs. Too innocently for Tim's taste. "Well, it's Hogwarts. She rather likes her students alive, you know? Hundreds of magical, accident-prone children walk her halls and stairs; you'd think there are quite a bit of safety precautions set in place," he explains, and, while it does make some kind of sense, there's the odd part.

"She?" Tim insinuates, and Danny nods nonchalantly, reaching his hand back to touch the wall behind him.

"Yeah, she. Hogwarts is centuries old and full of magic. She was bound to gain sentience at some point," he smiles fondly, "It's like the ancestral homes that purebloods have, only they are, well, smaller, and there are less people in there to leave an imprint. Hogwarts is huge."

Tim blinks. He never gave much thought to the idea, even while living in an ancestral home himself, but now, when Danny says it like that, it makes an awful lot of sense. However, this unexpected piece of knowledge doesn't answer any of his other questions.

What's more, with the rush of adrenaline slowly fading, Tim's natural need to get right to the bottom of things resurfaces again.

"And you know that because?.." he trails off, hoping for Danny to finish the sentence. He is fairly certain that neither Fenton nor Masters families have any ancestral homes. Well, not in Britain, at least.

Danny blinks and shrugs again, but this time it looks a bit puzzled. "Because it's common sense?" He offers, and Tim stares.

It's very much not.

But pointing it out won't get them anywhere. Tim sighs, his shoulders slumping.

"Well, I didn't know it," he huffs with no real bite to it. Looking down, he notices their still joined hands and quickly lets go, embarrassed about it all of a sudden. "Anyway, what were you doing, um," he gestures with his other hand in the air absently. He is not sure where they've even been when they met.

"On the fourth floor by the tapestry of Whimsy Winning Weatherby?" Danny offers helpfully and gives him a lopsided smile, "Exploring, mostly. Don't you want to know everything there is here?"

Not particularly, no, Tim wants to say, but that would be a lie. He likes exploring just fine, and he took great pleasure in doing so in the Wayne Manor. But, maybe, doing so in the first month here is not the greatest idea?

But that argument is probably not getting him anywhere, either. Considering the dedication the Hufflepuff put into testing his limits with literally everything he came across, the term 'appropriate timing' is probably an entirely foreign concept to him.

"Okay," he breathes out weakly, rubbing his face with his palms. It's honestly too late to argue about anything; why was this boy even sorted into Hufflepuff, he would have fitted great with Gryffindors. Tim, though, as the Slytherin he is, just wants to be done with the daring rule-breaking escapades and go to bed already. "Did you find anything interesting yet?" He asks nonetheless, briefly aware of the fact that he just doesn't want to part ways.

Danny nods, bubbling excitement written all over him, "Yeah, loads! Hogwarts is full of secret passageways, and there's a weird room on the seventh floor that I can't figure out how to get into, but the elves in the kitchens call it Come and Go Room. Helena doesn't like it, apparently, so she won't budge, and Nick doesn't like me, so no luck there. Oh, and Myrtle says she has no idea about that room, but there's a different secret room under the castle, but she won't say anything else. I've found the teacher's lounge by accident yesterday, though, and I almost got detention for it. Oh, and Headmaster's office is guarded by a stone gargoyle, and the password is something sweet, but I forgot what, and, well, I probably shouldn't be trying to get into his office on my own volition anyway."

"You shouldn't be trying to get into any of those places, actually," Tim deadpans, and Danny's smile turns sheepish.

"Yeah, Sam said the same thing. But what else am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, homework?" Tim rolls his eyes, and Danny mock gags. Yeah, Tim expected as much. He sighs, "I should get back to my dorm. And you should, too, actually," he adds, but doesn't insist when Danny just hums noncommittally. It will be a miracle if this boy doesn't get another detention on top of everything he earned in Potions so far. Oh, speaking of, "Do you think the Caretaker saw us?"

"Filch?" Danny looks back at Tim, "No, I doubt it. At best, he would figure out we're first-years, judging by our height. Mrs. Norris might recognize us, though, but, meh, she can't do much about it. There's no proof."

Tim stands corrected, maybe Danny would have fitted better with Slytherins than with Gryffindors.

"Alright," he nods and takes a step back from Danny in the general direction of his common room. Sure, other Houses are not supposed to know where it is, but then, he doubts it was a coincidence that Danny brought him here of all places. Then, he pauses, his gaze flickering back to the boy. "Thanks," he says quietly, and the Hufflepuff beams at him.

"Any time," he offers a playful bow at Tim and steps back towards the wall, knocking on one of the stones. The wall obediently shifts, like the muggle entrance to the Diagon Alley, unraveling a passageway. The one that got them here in the first place, if Tim recalls correctly.

"Hey," on a whim, Tim calls after the boy again, reluctant to see him go. Danny turn around, his eyebrows raised in question. "Tell me if you figure out how to get into that Come and Go Room?" Tim asks, giving him a smile of his own.

Not that he is much interested in a secret room - okay, maybe he is, but it's not the point here - but the way Danny perks up at the request is totally worth it.

"Sure," he grins, "Good night, Tim." And, before he gets a chance to answer, the wall shifts again, closing after Danny.

Tim bites back a fit of happy giggles originating from somewhere in his belly.

"Good night, Danny," he bids goodbye to the empty hall, and, finally, turns around and walks to his common room, a skip to his step.

—☆—☆—☆—

Apparently, Pinterest has, like, three adequate pictures of Hogwarts staircases, so finding these was a trouble:

What Danny looked like in the dark:

[Picrew]

Something I made for the sheer fun of it, featuring, from left to right: ghost-Dani, Dani, Jazz, Sam, ghost-Danny, Danny, Tim, Jason, Damian:

[Picrew]

—☆—☆—☆—

Another long-ass part, okay. This is getting out of hand and I'm not about to stop it.

Sentient Hogwarts let's go! I'm basing this headcanon on the idea that the longer magical people live in one specific place, the more magic that place absorbs. Seeing the size and the number of people in Hogwarts, she's gotta be sentient enough.

We are now two weeks or so into the school year, and Danny is sure making himself at home. Naturally, he befriends the ghosts faster than he befriends the living, mostly because he is one of the rare few to actually bother talking to them. But also for family reasons. I'll get to that in the part after the next one, probably.

A word about others, now: Jazz is part of the Gryffindor Quiddich team, she is chaser. Dick is also there, but he's beater, and he's got to be Head Boy this year, despite the fact that he was utterly bewildered by it. However, his position is the sole reason Fred and George are getting a headstart at their shenanigans - Dick likes his fellow Gryffindors and the mischief they are up to just enough to give them a few free passes if he encounters them. Valerie, on the other hand, is very unimpressed by the whole Gryffindor House and the twins specifically. Yet, she is currently top of class in Transfiguration, and McGonagall quietly adores her.

Steph and Danny have grown to be on friendly terms, but nowhere near best friends. They like each other, sure, but they prefer to get up to trouble separately. Besides, Steph is a bit unsettled by ghosts. She is quite friendly with Cedric, though, but, on the other hand, there's no such thing as being truly unfriendly when you're all Hufflepuffs.

Tucker is up in the Ravenclaw Tower, trying to find people who are as crazy about muggle technology as he is. It's not going great, but at least Ravenclaws don't discriminate: the boy is as nerdy as any of them, and they don't judge on what exactly their housemates are nerdy about. We'll see more of him later, when Tim is brave enough to bring his camera into Hogwarts.

Sam is confident in her dislike towards Tim, but they've decided to ignore each other for the most part. She is still not over him taking the seat with Danny in Potions, even though she's claimed every other possible opportunity to sit with him otherwise. She managed to get in good graces with Professor Sprout so far, and is allowed to come to Greenhouses to pester her with plant-related questions.

Is there any particular character you want to see me include in here? I make no promises, but I'd love to hear your thoughts!

[<- part 8 | part 10 ->]

[hy6erion]

um, did you see that marmoush hattrick??? we need a fic where him and his girl celebrate together after she was at the game watching him 🤭🫶

𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨 - 𝐎𝐦𝐚𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 (𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠) 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡. 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)

The moment the final whistle blew, you practically leapt out of your seat, screaming at the top of your lungs. The entire stadium was roaring, the sound of thousands of fans chanting Omar’s name vibrating through your chest. Your hands were trembling as you clapped, watching him stand on the pitch, breathless, his hands on his head in disbelief.

A hattrick. His first ever for Manchester City. Three perfect goals, each one sending the crowd into a frenzy.

Omar’s eyes searched the stands until they found yours. His face lit up, exhausted but glowing with pure joy, and he pointed right at you before tapping his chest. That was for you.

You pressed your hands over your heart, grinning so wide it almost hurt. You were so proud you thought you might explode.

By the time he made it to the players’ lounge, you were practically bouncing on your feet, waiting for him. The moment he walked through the doors, you didn’t even think—you ran straight at him, throwing yourself into his arms.

“Omar!!!”

He barely had time to react before you crashed into him, your arms wrapping around his neck. But he caught you instantly, laughing as he lifted you off the ground.

“I DID IT!” he shouted, spinning you around.

You giggled, clinging to him. “You did it! Three goals, Omar! A HATTRICK! Do you even understand how big this is?!”

He set you down but didn’t let go, his hands cupping your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks. His eyes were still wide, almost disbelieving. “I swear, it still doesn’t feel real.”

You grabbed his face dramatically. “It’s real, hattrick hero. You were magic out there.”

He laughed, pure and giddy, before suddenly pressing his forehead to yours. His breath was warm against your skin, his hands still holding your face like you were the most important thing in the world. “You know what the best part was?”

You blinked. “Scoring three goals?”

“Nope.” He grinned. “Seeing your face every time I looked up.”

Your heart melted right then and there. “Omar,” you whispered, already feeling your cheeks heat up.

He beamed. “I love you so much.”

Before you could respond, he kissed you—right there, in the middle of the lounge, with players, staff, and even Pep Guardiola in the background. But you didn’t care. His lips were warm, soft, a little desperate as if he needed to feel you close to really believe this was happening.

When he pulled away, he laughed breathlessly. “Sorry, I just—”

“Do it again,” you cut in, smiling against his lips.

And he did.

—

Later that night, after all the celebrations, the interviews, and the never-ending congratulations, the two of you finally made it home.

Omar was exhausted. The moment you walked through the door, he collapsed onto the couch, groaning dramatically.

“Babe,” he mumbled, eyes closed. “I think I’m dying.”

You giggled, kicking off your shoes and crawling onto the couch beside him. “You’re not dying.”

“I can’t move.”

You pouted, lying down next to him. “Guess I’ll have to cuddle you until you recover.”

His eyes popped open immediately. “Okay, actually, I think I feel a little better.”

You laughed as he pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your neck. His arms were warm, strong, completely wrapped around you as if he never wanted to let go.

“You smell nice,” he mumbled sleepily, pressing a lazy kiss to your jaw.

You smiled, threading your fingers through his hair. “You smell like sweat.”

He gasped dramatically. “Wow. After I scored three goals for you?”

You giggled. “For me?”

“Yes. I dedicate every goal to you.”

Your heart melted for the millionth time that day. “You’re so cute.”

He groaned, burying his face deeper into your neck. “Stop. I’m supposed to be cool.”

“You’re still cool. Just also really, really cute.”

You felt him smile against your skin before he started peppering soft kisses along your jaw, up to your cheek, then your forehead. “You know what’s cute? You. Wearing my jersey. Screaming my name like my biggest fan.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “I am your biggest fan.”

He pulled back, his golden-brown eyes shining as he looked at you. “And I’m your biggest fan.”

You bit your lip, cheeks burning. “You’re so in love with me.”

He grinned. “I really, really am.”

He kissed you again—slow and sweet, his hands gently cradling your face, as if you were the best prize of the night. And as you melted into him, feeling the warmth of his love wrap around you, you knew one thing for sure: this was the best night of your life.

[royal-chandler]

got the flu, wrote a little firstprince+family friday ficlet ✨ 💫 ✨

--

“Daddy!” Bianca shouts after scrambling out the backseat of Alex’s car and that’s when he truly feels back at home. His lovely daughter streaks up their driveway to meet Henry where he's sat at the front steps.

Henry welcomes the collision when she bodily runs into him, bony knees in his front and the crooks of her elbows around his neck as he scoops her up. Into her afternoon-warmed hair, he fiercely tucks, “I missed you terribly.”

“I missed you, too,” Bianca returns, as though she’s sharing a special secret, tender and thoughtful. She hugs him tighter and kisses his cheek.

Mouth mostly stuffed with his heart, Henry whispers, “Thank you, darling.”

After another moment, Bianca peels away to ask, “What was London like?”

“Exceptionally grey. And very wet. It poured the entire time. I’ve got a suitcase full of soggy socks to show for it.”

“Yuck.”

“Indeed but those soggy socks took me to many shops. Where I may have picked up a few gifts for you and your brother.”

“Ooh,” Bianca sing-songs on a scheming slide, fingers steepled and giddily tapping together like the cutest cartoon villain there ever was. 

Henry gives her a smile back. “Would you look at that? You did your nails! They look gorgeous!”

“Thanks!” She showcases them proudly, neon colours fanned out and prancing again. “I did my left hand but Papi did my right for me since it gets messy when I do it.”

“You both did really well, wonderful jobs.”

In agreement, Bianca nods. “Papi said you couldn’t come back to them looking like monsters or he’d be in big trouble.”

Henry chuckles, reaching out to curl loose strands back behind her ear. He hums and replies, “Well, it’s the weekend. I would have gone easy on him.”

“Yeah right,” Alex says with a smirk, joining them. Bianca’s sequin bookbag hangs from one hand and the other is spread across the back of a napping Arturo, whose peaceful face is wrinkled into Alex’s shoulder. It’s a sight for sore eyes. Alex makes a show of unburdening himself of Bianca’s bag, commenting on how heavy it is. When she takes it from him with no trouble, he wonderfully compliments Bianca on her strength and makes her beam—effectively turning Henry into goo. “You wanna take it inside and then we can get going, mija?”

“We have to go to the grocery store,” Bianca says, breaking the news to Henry. Over-the-top, she despairs to Alex, “We always have to go to the grocery store.”

“We always eat,” Alex counters. “I think you’d be pretty upset if there wasn’t any food in the house. I mean, what’s a Friday night without mango ice-cream?”

“Uh oh. I’m not built for that.” Hurriedly, she smacks a kiss to Henry’s cheek again. And then she’s off, tossing back, “Gotta go, Daddy! Love you!”

“She’s not built for that?” Henry echoes. 

“New lingo sweeping through Hickory Elementary like the flu after a kid licks a doorknob.”

“That is not an actual thing, Alex.”

“I saw it!”

Henry rolls his eyes. 

“Her need for new shoes is becoming more apparent, Alex. Maybe we should stop by the mall as well.”

“Hah, good luck getting rid of them.”

“A hole is starting to tear through the front.”

“They’re her favorite pair. And most importantly, the toes stop the swings at recess the best,” Alex recites, clearly having heard the argument plenty. 

So has Henry. 

“I do not have the energy for that battle,” he sighs before standing. He collects Arturo from Alex gently, careful not to wake him. Pressing a soft hello to his son's forehead, he murmurs, “Hey, sweet kit."

"He's going to be so excited when he wakes up and sees you."

"I can't wait."

Alex's roving gaze is considerate, loving. "How was it?"

"It's to the point—," Henry continues after an inelegant swallow, a hot threat around the edge of his eyes, "the next visit will have to be all of us."

An apologetic noise leaves Alex and he draws Henry in close and holds him. His scent is familiar and comforting, makes breathing easier. Lips lingering against Henry's skin, Alex asks, "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Yes," Henry admits, "but tomorrow. Just need this for now."

--

thanks for taking the time to read! 🤍

[dandylion240]

A neighbor’s young teenage daughter babysat for him while he worked. It wasn’t ideal but it was the best he could do. Walking into the seedy bar he let his eyes roam around the interior. Most of the men were regulars, coarse dirty men that could care less about the music he played. He sucked in a deep breath preparing himself for a night of being pawed at and propositioned.

An hour into his shift the manager approached him. “Drink this” he set a drink on top of the piano.

Without looking up Jonah shook his head. “No thanks. I don’t drink.”

“It wasn’t a request” the man’s beefy hand grabbed a handful of hair jerking his head back. “I’ve got a big customer with deep pockets and he's take a shine to you.” A nasty grin spread across the man’s bearded face “it’s time you earn your keep.”

Struggling to pull himself free himself Jonah let his hands slide from the piano. “That’s not in my job description.”

“It is now” the man grabbed the drink “this will help you be nice to the customer. He’s paying extra just for you.”

He tried to move in protest but the larger man was ready for the move. The fiery liquid burned as it went down to his almost empty stomach. It didn’t take long for the strong alcohol and other drugs it was laced with to take effect.

The next thing he knew he was wrapped in the arms of a foul smelling man whose hands pawed at him as they worked to remove what little clothes he had on. He tried to fight but it was like his body wouldn’t respond to his urgent demands. His throat was sore like he’d been screaming for a long agonizing time. It was like everyone was deaf to his cries.

The rest of the night was a blur. He was aware of things being done to him that he was helpless to stop. At some point he passed out. A welcome relief to the torment and misery he was in.

The next thing he knew he was falling on his face outside his apartment door. He must of have awakened his son’s babysitter because he heard a screech as she ran past him to her apartment screaming for her dad.

A few minutes later. “Dad” the babysitter’s voice sounded worried above his head “is he alright?”

“I don’t know” a deep voice Jonah recognized as the girl’s dad said.

He wanted to ask them what happened. Who was hurt? He didn’t have the energy. Strong arms lifted him up. “No no …. No more. Please” he struggled weakly in the man’s arms whimpering.

Several hours later Jonah moaned restlessly on the lumpy mattress of his bed.  A firm hand forced him down. “Do you know what happened to you” the same deep voice asked him. He let out a little squeak thinking someone had followed him home. Pulling his knees into his chest he tried to make himself as small as possible.

“No one’s going to hurt you,” the deep voice assured him.

“You can’t promise that” he grumbled forcing his eyes open. “Unless you’re offering to be my bodyguard.”

“That’s not a half bad idea” his neighbor said.

Jonah cringed beneath the man’s intense gaze. The emotion in the man’s eyes was anger, disapproval …maybe even a little shame. Probably regrets allowing his daughter to babysit for someone like him. “You can go if you want to” he murmured sure the guy wanted to put as much space between him and his family as he could.

The man’s brow furrowed. “I’ll have Courtney watch the baby while you rest.”

“But I thought…” his voice faded as he tried to shrink into the bed sheets. The emotion in the man’s eyes was that of pity not disgust. He didn’t want pity. He wanted anger. Revulsion. Anything but pity. Without a word the older man turned and stalked from the room. Distantly he heard the apartment door open and close. It was then the dam to his tears broke. Pulling a pillow over his face he sobbed into it. A million what if scenarios running rampant through his brain, none of them good.

Previous / Next

[specialagentartemis]

In my own Tanker hc I have never actually written, Snake gives Otacon the option to back out. Snake is hurt and feels betrayed (he has a history of his CO on the other side of the radio sending him into dangerous situations and lying through their teeth about what he’ll find there. That wasn’t supposed to be Otacon, too. He was supposed to be separate from all that, they were supposed to be partners and peers who chose this jointly.) On top of being hypothermic and half-drowned. But he’s also empathetic, and deeply responsible, and Otacon is clearly freaking out, and Snake offers him an out. Snake offers him the option to walk away. Snake says, if you take point on PR damage control, if you tell them I cracked, that I went rogue, that I did this on my own and you were asleep in your own apartment this whole time and had no idea, you can get away from this. You can get a regular software job, have a normal life.

But it would mean no more activism, no more Philanthropy. And no more Snake. Snake has to disappear, and Otacon has to face the press and disavow him. Snake’s life is pretty ruined, but Otacon’s doesn’t have to be.

And Otacon certainly has a complex about drowning and responsibility. And last time this happened, he walked away from the whole mess, and has blamed himself ever since. (Yes, the PW timeline indicates he was 16 or 17 at the time; he was in no way actually responsible for Julie Danzinger’s abuse or Huey’s murder-suicide by pool, but all retcons aside, MGS2 makes it clear he holds himself to blame for it all.)

But Otacon is facing a repeat of the worst moment of his life: he has—for real, this time—just had a significant hand in permanently ruining Snake’s life, and Snake is still giving him the option to walk away. Build a normal life without all this Metal Gear stuff. And partially it is the fact that we’ve seen, time and time again, that Snake is honestly incredibly sympathetic and forgiving of people who have hurt him (maybe because he sees himself as having hurt too many people to have any right to hold grudges; he clearly still hurts over Gray Fox). And partially… maybe this event has taught him, again, that he can’t ever expect anyone else to have his back. He can’t ever really trust that the people he cares most about won’t betray him. Big Boss did, Gray Fox did, Master Miller did, Roy Campbell did, and now Otacon did and maybe it’s easier to go back to being alone in Alaska with his dogs.

So post-Tanker has to be a real choice, and a hard one. Otacon is scared, and it is so tempting to make this Not His Problem Anymore and try to forget. He won’t forget about it, of course—he still hasn’t forgotten about, or stopped blaming himself for, or stopped wishing for resolution and absolution for, something that happened when he was in high school and was not his fault—but he can be safe. He can be normal.

And he has to make the choice to say, no. We’re in this together. I’m committed to the work we do to stop the proliferation of nuclear weapons across the world. I’m committed to stopping Ocelot and whatever he’s up to. I’m committed to you, and to us, and I won’t let you take the fall alone.

And this is very scary because it means accepting becoming an internationally wanted terrorist, he will never be safe again, but this is already gonna be Snake’s future and if they jump wholly into this together they can keep each other safe and keep doing what they set out to do. And they can do it together. I don’t want it to be a natural outcome of what happened, I want it to be a conscious choice Otacon makes to take responsibility and step up and be brave. Terrified. Able to back out. And choosing not to. This is a choice he can’t take back either, but it’s one that will work to rectify his last one.

(I don’t think Snake and Otacon are In Love as yet. The affection is there, though, the closeness between them is growing, they’re both sorta starting to think “maybe…?” and that’s one of the reasons this hurts so much. And when Otacon commits to following Snake down despite being fully aware of the clear and intense danger of the choice he is making, is when it really changes between them, I think.)

I do love Tanker Incident stuff, it’s a crystallization of so many Great Otasune Feelings… but it’s really under-acknowledged that it was, in a large part, Otacon’s fault.

He lied to Snake about his source for the Tanker tip. He broke his own rules about vetting tip sources and knew he was doing so because he lied to Snake about it until Snake was already on that tanker and it was too late. If Otacon had told Snake the truth about where he got this info about the tanker, Snake would probably have called it suspicious and not have gone. And Otacon knew that.

And their doubts were right because it was a trap, and Snake nearly died, and both of their reputations were tanked with that tanker.

Otacon wanted so badly to believe that his sister had forgiven him and wanted to contact him again that he overlooked the red flags, lied to Snake about it, and it blew up in their faces—and Snake took the brunt of the fallout.

And I want more post-Tanker Incident stuff to dig into that! The broken trust! Snake’s hurt and Otacon’s horror and shame! The fact that one bad decision is now something life-changing he can’t take back! The fact that Otacon is kinda deep down a selfish coward and he struggles against that and makes conscious choices against that every day of his life and that’s what makes him brave and heroic! And the Tanker Incident is a turning point, his biggest mistake and afterward his biggest commitment to the Cause now that Philanthropy is significantly more dangerous to be part of, and he commits anyway.

[gottagobackintime]

Abby is such a shitty girlfriend. She doesn’t come with Carter to comfort him when his grandmother, who was more like his mother, dies because she has to go get her brother. Sure fine, I get it. I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same. But to then show up late to the funeral. AND bringing said brother, who can’t behave, who then disturbs the funeral…It would have been better if she hadn’t come at all at that point. Yeah, she wouldn’t have been there and he’d be angry and upset, rightfully so. But at least the funeral wouldn’t have been interrupted.

I also hate when other characters try to make out as if the character who was hurt, in this case, Carter. Should just forgive and forget. Like his dad saying that Carter didn’t ruin the funeral, and neither did Abby. HER BROTHER, WHO SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE, FELL INTO THE FUCKING GRAVE?!?! I’d say that that falls under ”ruined the funeral”.

Carter has supported her time and time again when it comes to her family and she can’t even give him enough time to get through a funeral.

[feastingonchrist]

kind of getting to a point where i don’t care if people think i’m crazy for following Christ and that talking about the joy i have from Him online makes me sound crazy. I know it’s not true. But what is true is that i have never felt so at peace or like i am actually living and breathing before. This is the first time in my life where God is really bringing my dead and dry bones back to life. He is too good and i feel amazing!!! And this is just a tiny glimpse of it!!!

[kisakunt]

BABY TRAP? LIKE THE MOVIE WITH THE TWINS?

description… you two are meant to be. sealed by fate, star crossed lovers. you’ll keep each other around however you need to.

warnings… dark content! baby trapping! noncon! obviously they’re being baby trapped they say something trying to stop it. consensual sex. full penetrative sex.

a word from the writer… i’ve had this in the drafts for aWHILE. it’s about time. do yall still read dc? i’ll never stop supplying… are we too woke now?!

TRAPS YOU

you’re hot under him, and he’s making that face he always makes right before he cums. it’s like repetition; eyes blanked out, mouth ajar but not fully open, brows furrowed like he’s desperate— and it’s scary.

“baby,” the word is cut in two with how fast he’s going, tease of pain as he hilts into your cervix with every thrust. “baby, you’re not wearing a condom.” your voice is uneasy, shaky from the movement and pleasure and build up. you think, in a way, the way you have sex is unfair. he gives you so much, orgasm after orgasm, rubbing your clit as he drills you to the point you go fucking stupid.

you feel safe with him. sex is sacred with him, no matter how sick it gets. but right now, with your calves pressed into his shoulders, his hands pushing your thighs impossibly back, you feel uneasy.

“baby, baby, pull out.” he gasps, sweat dripping down right near your eyes as a shaky groan escapes him.

“fuck,” a chaste kiss to your forehead, a shakiness in his movements, an unmatched rhythm as he gets closer and closer. “fuck. oh my, god. you feel so fucking good— so fuckin’ good.”

and so does he. but you’re scared.

“you’re gonna make such a good mommy, gonna be such a good mama. gonna— gonna give you my babies. gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you mine.”

“hey, wait,” your hands raise to his chest but he hits that angle that makes your eyes roll and they fall back. it feels so good you almost don’t care. “baby, baby, baby stop. baby, you gotta pull out.”

“you’re gonna be such a good mommy. gonna give you my kids. gonna give you my kids.” and it’s instant. it’s before you can even think— if you could anyway— it’s pressed so deep in you you betray yourself and cum, too.

he places his head to yours, kisses you greedy and whole, and whines into your mouth. it’s him, it’s real, it’s love. but— and you know this— it’s something so wrong.

“did you just…?” and before you can finish your question, he’s regaining his rhythm, fucking his cum into you with a half hard dick. it’s precise, it’s calculated, it’s intention.

he looks at you, eyes wide, breath heavy, and gives you a little grin. “gonna keep fucking you even when you’re pregnant, baby. gonna make sure i can keep you all to myself.”

GOJO, GETO, SUKUNA, YUJI

GETS TRAPPED

your legs hurt. you’ve been on top for all of thirty minutes, which you have no one to blame other than yourself. you love to edge him, love to get him so close and then take it all away from him. you think it gets him a little addicted.

but right now, as he squirms under you, losing every ounce of masculinity he’s ever had, something takes over you.

“gonna cum,” it’s breathless, short and sweet. “oh shit, i’m gonna cum.” you think he must think you’re edging him again. you think he’s expecting you to slow down, stop all together, pick up off him fully for ten or so seconds and then slam back down.

but you pick up the pace, grinding your hips into his, hitting his pelvic bone with your own as your hands grip at his pecs.

“wait, are you—” he falls apart under you, voice failing him, body failing him, hands only finding the strength to grip at your hips. “baby girl, i’m gonna cum.”

it’s melodic, tactile and articulate, a steady flow of bounces while your squelch fills the room.

“sweetheart, you gotta stop.” your right hand lifts from his chest to his mouth, shoving your fingers between his lips while he groans. he’s so easy to you, for you, because of you.

and then you feel it, milk it, relish in it— the way he comes undone at your touch, loses himself deep inside you. you don’t say a word about it, don’t think about it too much as you press your wet fingers to your stomach.

it’s a quiet giggle as reality washes over him. he looks cute, you can’t help but realize, panic and flushed under you. you’re sure of it then; he’s gonna be a sexy dad.

MEGUMI, NANAMI, CHOSO, TOJI