#shutting down completely is letting them and their bullshit win

[catalisst]

On occasion, yes ... less so now that I channel Daisy Duck, who "does Not give a fuck."

Do you ever go “ wow ok” and shut down entirely

[iraot]

Warnings: Mean & Condescending Xavier, Rough, Big dick, massive dick, think 10 inches with 6.5 girth. Truth or date, reader wins and loses at the same time, College Experiences Word Count: 10.6k Pairing: Xavier/F!Reader AO3

The bass thumped heavily in the house, rattling cheap wall decorations and making the liquor slosh in the red cup Xavier held lazily in his fingers. The game had been going on for a while, drinks making people bolder, more reckless, but he hadn’t expected the question when it came.

“Xavier,” some sophomore he barely knew leaned in, grinning. “Truth or dare?”

He barely even thought about it. “Truth.”

A few knowing glances, giggles from the peanut gallery. Someone was setting this up.

“Is it true—” The girl dragged out the words, probably already drunk enough to forget saying them in the morning. “That you’ve got, like, a massive dick?”

Xavier exhaled through his nose, completely unimpressed. He could’ve laughed, could’ve rolled his eyes, but instead he just took another sip from his cup and said, “Yeah.”

No elaboration. No bravado. Just a fact.

And across from him, she—dark-eyed, skeptical, mouth curled like she’d just smelled bullshit—let out a scoff.

She’d heard it before. Whispers in the dorms. Girls who got drunk enough to spill details, words laced with awe, frustration, and sometimes just straight-up disbelief. “It wouldn’t fit.” Please. What kind of excuse was that? Maybe they just weren’t ready for it, maybe they didn’t know what the fuck they were doing. Either way, she wasn’t buying it.

“Prove it.”

The words left her mouth before she had time to second-guess them, before her brain even caught up with her body. A beat of silence, the air in the circle tightening, a few surprised laughs from the crowd.

Xavier’s brows lifted slightly. Then, just as quick, he smirked—lazy, teasing, but there was something else in his expression too. Something knowing.

He stood up, stretching to his full height, six-foot-one of broad-shouldered, lean muscle in that way athletes tended to be—solid, built, but not bulky. The hoodie he was wearing bunched slightly at the sleeves, riding up just enough to flash a sliver of defined stomach before settling again.

He held out his hand.

“Okay,” he said, voice smooth, casual, but the weight behind it undeniable. “But if you come with me, you have to take it.”

A slow, knowing murmur spread through the circle like a wave rolling through the party. A few people whispered to each other, already making bets.

Her heart kicked up a little—not from nerves, but from the sheer brazenness of it. He wasn’t hesitating, wasn’t blushing, wasn’t playing coy. If anything, he seemed entirely at ease, like he already knew how this was gonna end.

She could back down. Laugh it off, say she was joking. Or she could call the bluff completely.

Fuck it.

She set her drink down on the floor beside the couch, wiped her palms against the denim of her jeans, and slid her hand into his.

Xavier’s fingers closed around hers, firm but not too tight, and he pulled her to her feet effortlessly. There was a weight behind the gesture—not forceful, not demanding, just confident, self-assured.

Xavier barely glanced at the people still lingering in the party as he pulled her toward the stairs, cutting a direct path through the bodies like he had done this a thousand times before. He could feel the eyes on him, the half-drunken murmurs of people placing bets, but it didn’t matter. None of them were coming with him; none of them had made the deal she did. He didn’t slow down, didn’t check if she was hesitating, because he already knew she was following.

Upstairs, the door clicked shut behind them, shutting out the chaos, but the bass still trembled beneath their feet, like the house itself was waiting to see what happened next. The air was different up here—heavier, warmer, thick with unspoken tension. She had asked for this, and he was going to deliver, but he wasn’t going to hold her hand through it. If she wanted to doubt him, to call him a liar, then she’d damn well deal with the consequences.

He turned to face her, slow, deliberate, his gaze raking over her like he was already bored. His hands were still loose in his pockets, utterly unbothered, because this was routine for him. She was just another girl who thought she was clever, thought she’d heard it all before, thought she was immune to rumors. He gave her a lazy once-over before arching a brow.

“You don’t believe them.” It wasn’t a question.

She crossed her arms, standing her ground even as uncertainty flickered behind her eyes. “No, I don’t.”

His lips quirked, just slightly, the same way they might at a particularly stupid joke. “That’s cute. Why not?”

Her jaw tightened. “Because girls exaggerate, and guys let them.”

Xavier hummed, slow, thoughtful, like he was indulging the idea even though it was beneath him. Then, without fanfare, he reached for his belt, slipping it free with smooth, practiced ease. He wasn’t putting on a show; there was no need. If anything, this was just another night, another hassle, another girl who had to see it to believe it.

“You’re actually just—”

“You made a deal,” he interrupted, tone flat. “So now, you get to find out.”

The soft rasp of his zipper cut through the silence, and he could already see the shift in her posture—the tension in her shoulders, the subtle hesitation in her stance. Her mouth might have been ready to call his bluff, but her body wasn’t as confident. He smirked. They never were.

His jeans loosened, the waistband dipping just enough for the weight of it to be obvious even before he pulled the fabric aside. He could see her eyes track it, widening slightly as her lips parted, her breath hitching. She hadn’t even seen the whole thing yet.

Not just a rumor.

Xavier sighed, more irritated than smug, rolling his shoulders like he was exhausted by the entire situation. “See, this is why I don’t bother.”

She swallowed, hard, but he could see the way she was still trying to cling to her disbelief. It was adorable. A last-ditch attempt to save face, like she hadn’t just been hit with the proof she was demanding. He leaned against the desk, watching her expectantly, letting her struggle with reality.

“Well?”

Her jaw clenched, her hands flexing at her sides, but she didn’t move away. No, she did the opposite—she stepped closer. Her arms dropped, fingers twitching before she reached out, hesitating just a fraction before she brushed her knuckles against him.

Xavier didn’t react. Didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as exhale sharply. If anything, he seemed almost bored, like this was just another obligation, another part of the exhausting ritual of getting laid. Her fingers traced along the thick ridge, pressing slightly, her throat working around a tight swallow as her mind caught up to what she was feeling.

“Oh, what’s the matter?” Xavier murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Not what you were expecting?”

She stiffened, eyes flashing up to meet his, and he nearly laughed. She was trying so hard to keep up the bravado, to pretend like she wasn’t standing there, completely thrown off, gripping something she probably thought was a physical impossibility. He let her have a few seconds to adjust, to process, before he reached out, tilting her chin up with two fingers.

“You don’t have to suck it,” he mused, his voice nothing but lazy amusement. “But you do have to get me hard.”

Her breath hitched, and he smirked, because she was already halfway there.

Xavier leaned back against the desk, watching her sink to her knees like it was inevitable, like she was just another girl coming to the same stupid conclusion as all the others. The carpet had to be rough against her skin, but that wasn’t his problem. She wanted to prove something? She wanted to find out? Then she could deal with the reality of what she was asking for.

Her fingers hesitated at his waistband, but he didn’t move to help. Just stared down at her, expectant, waiting, smirk barely visible beneath the shadow of his hood. She had all that confidence downstairs—so where was it now? With a slow exhale, he tilted his head, voice thick with amusement.

"Go ahead, then," he drawled. "Let’s see how long that attitude lasts."

She pulled down his boxers, and he felt the exact moment she realized she might’ve fucked up. Her whole body locked up, hands frozen, mouth slightly parted in silent, stunned disbelief. Xavier huffed a quiet laugh, reaching down to wrap his fingers around the thick base of his cock, giving himself a lazy stroke as he watched her struggle to process it.

"Problem?" he asked, mock sympathy lacing his tone.

Her tongue flicked out, wetting her lips, but she still hadn’t moved. He could see the gears turning in her head, the way her breathing hitched slightly as she stared at him, at the sheer weight of what she’d just committed to. His smirk deepened.

"You were talking all that shit downstairs," he continued, tapping the thick head of his cock against her parted lips, smearing pre-cum over the plush softness. "Now’s your chance to back it up."

She inhaled sharply, eyes flashing up to meet his, but he only stared back, cold, unimpressed. He gave her a second—just one—before bringing his cock down lightly against her tongue, the wet slap echoing between them. Her breath stuttered, body jerking slightly at the sting, and Xavier arched a brow.

"Keep it out if you’re gonna use it," he muttered, gaze dark, daring.

She sucked in a slow breath, and finally, finally, she leaned forward, pressing her tongue flat against the underside of his length. Xavier exhaled sharply through his nose, watching as she dragged her mouth down, tracing the thick vein running along the length of him before circling the flushed tip. A soft, wet sound filled the space between them as her lips finally sealed around him, and his fingers flexed in her hair, gripping lightly.

"There you go," he murmured, watching her with sharp, unyielding focus. "Bet you don’t feel so fucking clever now, do you?"

Her cheeks hollowed, sucking lightly, and he let out a slow, pleased exhale. She was taking her time, trying to ease into it, trying to adjust, but that wasn’t going to be enough. His grip tightened slightly, just enough to make sure she knew he wasn’t about to be patient.

"Less teasing," he warned, voice low, smooth. "Open up."

She hesitated for only a second before obeying, her lips stretching wider as she took him deeper, her throat fluttering as she fought to keep from gagging. Xavier groaned low, rolling his hips just slightly, enough to feel the heat of her mouth tighten around him. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles against the back of her head, his smirk widening as he watched her struggle, as he felt every little tremor in her muscles.

"You wanted to know," he reminded her, his voice a quiet taunt. "So take it."

Her hands gripped his thighs, nails digging into the fabric of his jeans as she tried to relax, to breathe through it, to keep up with the sheer size of him. Xavier just watched, breathing steady, unmoving, letting her do the work, letting her struggle with the reality of what she had asked for.

Then, abruptly, he pulled back, dragging his cock free from her mouth, a wet string of spit connecting them for a second before breaking. Her breath came quick and uneven, her lips slick, swollen, her eyes slightly glassy as she looked up at him. Xavier exhaled a slow breath, shaking his head, dragging a hand through his hair as he stared down at her.

"Yeah," he muttered, gaze sharp, unimpressed. "That’s about what I thought."

Before she could even think to respond, he grabbed her arms, hauling her up with ease, forcing her to meet his gaze. The air between them burned, thick with heat, with tension, with something dark curling low in his stomach as he took in the state of her—flushed, breathless, wrecked from just this.

"Come on," he murmured, backing her toward the bed with slow, deliberate steps. "You made a deal, sweetheart. You’re not getting out of it now."

Her knees buckled against the edge of the bed, and before she could fully process it, Xavier was there, pushing her down, his weight following, pressing her into the mattress. His hands weren’t gentle—gripping, dragging, taking, his fingers curling into the fabric of her skirt and yanking it up with no patience for teasing. The cool air hit her bare thighs, then the heat of his palms followed, rough against soft skin as he forced them apart without hesitation. He smirked, gaze dropping between them, taking in the damp spot darkening the lace of her panties before sliding his fingers beneath the waistband.

She gasped as he hooked his thumbs into the fabric, not bothering with slow, deliberate teasing—just peeling them down in one smooth motion, letting them catch for half a second on the curve of her thighs before he yanked them free. He tossed them aside, already settling between her legs, already spreading her wider, already pressing his palm flat against her, rubbing the heat of his hand over slick, sensitive flesh. His thumb dragged up, finding her clit easily, circling once—firm, unrelenting—before dipping lower, parting her with no hesitation. She twitched beneath him, her body betraying her as her hips jerked in response, and his smirk widened.

"You talk all that shit," he muttered, his fingers dragging slow through her wetness, deliberately messy, deliberately teasing, coating his skin in the proof of how ready she already was. He glanced up at her, pinning her with a lazy, knowing look before gripping her face in one hand, squeezing just enough to make her lips part. "But look at you now," he murmured, his thumb pressing just slightly against her lower lip, his other hand still between her thighs, two fingers ghosting over her entrance. "Dripping, shaking—maybe you should’ve thought twice before running that mouth."

Her breath hitched, something sharp and heated curling low in her stomach, but before she could fire back, he bit down on her bottom lip, a sharp sting followed by the slow, deliberate slide of his fingers pressing inside. She gasped against his mouth, her nails digging into his arms, but he didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate—just pushed deeper, spreading his fingers as he filled her, stretching her open with no patience for easing in. A strangled sound escaped her, something between a moan and a whimper, her thighs twitching against his sides as he worked his fingers deeper. "Yeah," Xavier muttered against her mouth, a quiet, almost amused groan slipping from him as he felt the way she clenched around him. "That’s what I thought."

He shifted lower, dragging his fingers free only to smear the wetness along the inside of her thigh, marking her before his mouth replaced them. The first press of his tongue against her clit was rough, firm, no slow build-up, no teasing—just immediate, unrelenting heat. She jolted, a sharp gasp breaking from her lips, but he held her down, hands braced against her thighs, keeping her open, keeping her exactly where he wanted her. He licked into her deep, his tongue pressing hard, slow, dragging from her entrance to her clit with filthy precision, then back again.

Her fingers flew into his hair, gripping, tugging, but it only made him groan, the vibration shooting through her like a live wire, making her legs tighten around his shoulders. He chuckled against her, pulling back just enough to bite at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, just enough to make her jolt. "Relax," he murmured, voice thick, taunting. "We’re just getting started."

His fingers slid back into her, easier this time, deeper, stretching her as his tongue circled her clit, slow but firm, pushing her higher with each flick, each press, each calculated stroke. She whimpered, her back arching, the pleasure sharp, unbearable, but Xavier didn’t slow down. He wasn’t savoring her—he was wrecking her, tearing her apart piece by piece, showing her exactly what it meant to get herself into this situation. And when he finally lifted his gaze, meeting her wide, glassy-eyed stare from between her thighs, he smirked against her, lips wet, breath hot, voice nothing but dark amusement as he murmured—

"You’re not gonna tap out on me yet, are you?"

Her thighs clenched instinctively against the sides of his head, a sharp, involuntary reaction to the relentless pace of his tongue. But Xavier didn’t pull away. If anything, the pressure only seemed to encourage him, his grip on her tightening, fingers sinking into the soft flesh of her hips, holding her down, keeping her exactly where he wanted her. His mouth moved slow but deliberately, savoring every flick of his tongue, every soft, wet sound as he licked into her, then sucked at her clit with just enough pressure to send heat rolling up her spine.

"Jesus—" she gasped, her voice breaking, her fingers twitching before finding their way into his hair. The strands were soft beneath her fingertips, slightly damp where sweat had begun to gather, and she tugged—just a little, just enough to make him feel it. The deep, rough groan that vibrated against her sent a shudder through her body, her breath catching as his tongue dragged over her again. He wasn’t stopping. He wasn’t even slowing down. If anything, that reaction only spurred him on, his hands gripping her harder, keeping her pinned beneath him.

"Fuck, you like that, huh?" he muttered against her, his breath hot against her swollen, slick skin. His lips brushed her clit before his tongue slid over it again, slow, lazy, circling, teasing, pushing her higher and higher. "You taste so fucking good." His voice was thick, laced with something dark, something pleased, something hungry. She bit her lip hard, her head tipping back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut.

He was good at this. Too good. Like he enjoyed it just as much as she did, like he had no intention of stopping until she was shaking, gasping, completely undone beneath him. And then—without warning—his fingers joined in. The first press of his index finger against her entrance sent a sharp jolt through her, her hips jerking slightly, instinctively, as her breath caught in her throat. He didn’t push in right away. He dragged it through her wetness first, teasing, testing, making her body crave it, making her legs tighten around his shoulders in frustration.

His tongue never lost rhythm, his movements perfectly in sync, each stroke of his tongue matching the slow, deep thrusts of his fingers. Her back arched, a breathless moan slipping past her lips as he found that spot inside her, the one that made her toes curl, made her head spin, made her body tighten with need.

"Fuck—Xavier—" she gasped, her voice breaking, her fingers twisting tighter in his hair. He groaned against her, deep and rough, the vibration shooting through her like a live wire. "You’re so fucking tight," he murmured, his voice thick, almost reverent, his fingers pressing deeper, stroking her exactly where she needed. His tongue flicked over her clit, sharp, precise, and her body trembled, pleasure coiling tight, winding higher, sharper, impossibly close to the edge.

And Xavier knew it. He could feel it in the way she clenched around him, the way her thighs quivered, the way her breath came in short, shaky gasps. He didn’t stop. He didn’t slow down. He just kept pushing her, kept working her open, relentless, focused, determined to drag her over the edge. And then, suddenly, it hit her.

Pleasure slammed into her, sharp and overwhelming, stealing the air from her lungs as she shattered, a choked moan spilling from her lips. Her whole body jerked, trembling, her walls clenching down around his fingers as her orgasm rolled through her in wave after wave of raw, pulsing heat. Xavier groaned, his mouth still moving against her, slow, lazy, like he was savoring every last tremor, drawing it out, making sure she felt everything. She barely registered the way her body sagged against the bed, boneless, her chest rising and falling in shaky, uneven breaths.

Xavier finally pulled back, his lips slick, his jaw tight, his eyes dark as he looked up at her. His expression was pure, unfiltered hunger, something deep and knowing flickering in his gaze as he dragged his fingers up the inside of her thigh, leaving a slow, wet trail in their wake. He leaned up, hovering over her now, his breath warm against her lips as he murmured, voice thick, rough, and filled with something undeniably possessive.

"Now, let’s see if you can take me."

Xavier’s breath came rough and uneven, thick with the weight of restraint as he finally pulled back, his lips slick from her, his jaw locked tight. A thin sheen of sweat glowed along the sharp angles of his face, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip like he was chasing the taste of her, unwilling to let it go just yet. His hands, large and steady, dragged slow paths down the length of her trembling thighs, fingers pressing deep into overheated skin, massaging, soothing. She was wrecked. Flushed and trembling, her chest rising and falling in uneven waves, pupils wide and unfocused as she tried to catch her breath. The sight of her like this—ruined and open beneath him, her legs spread, her body still quivering from the wreckage of his mouth—made something primal twist, hot and unbearable, in the pit of his stomach. But he wasn’t going to rush this. He wasn’t going to let himself be swallowed whole by the raw, urgent need burning through his veins.

The wooden scrape of the nightstand drawer was quiet, almost lost beneath the sound of their breathing. Xavier reached inside without looking, fingers curling around a smooth, familiar bottle, cool against his heated palm. The cap snapped open with a soft click, the scent of something clean and faintly medicinal threading through the thick air between them. He could feel her watching him, could feel the weight of her gaze flickering between his hands and the still-throbbing length of him resting between his thighs. She was waiting, expectant, but not impatient.

Not hesitant, either.

Just… wondering.

Would it really fit?

Xavier squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, the thick liquid pooling cool against his skin. He shifted slightly, spreading her open with one hand, his grip firm but careful, his thumb brushing along the sensitive dip of her inner thigh. A slow, measured breath left him as he brought his coated fingers to her entrance, spreading the slickness against the heat of her, watching the way her body jolted at the first press.

She was sensitive. Too sensitive.

A soft, breathy gasp slipped past her lips as he eased one finger inside, testing, stretching. A shiver ran through her, her legs twitching on either side of him, the overstimulation making her body tense before it melted into something looser, something warmer. Then—another. His second finger joined the first, working deeper, slow and careful, pressing up against the places he already knew would make her squirm.

She sucked in a sharp breath.

That flicker of tension—brief, barely there—didn’t escape him.

Xavier hummed, low and knowing, his thumb tracing lazy, grounding circles over her hip. “Relax,” he murmured, voice rough, but gentle. “You’ll take it easier that way.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, dark eyes flicking to his, something unreadable flashing behind them. She wasn’t scared. Not reluctant. But that same thought from earlier lingered unspoken in the air between them, sitting heavy on her tongue.

Had they even really tried?

Xavier let out a slow, even breath through his nose, his gaze never leaving her face as he worked his fingers deeper, stretching her, coaxing her body open inch by inch. He could feel it—the way she clenched, resisted, and then slowly, sweetly, gave in. His fingers curled, pressing against the spot that made her breath stutter, and her lips parted, a soft, needy sound slipping free.

“Good,” he murmured, watching her, drinking in every tiny shift in her expression, every involuntary tremble. “That’s it.”

He pulled his fingers away carefully, lingering just long enough to feel the way she clenched around nothing, already missing the pressure. He squeezed more lube onto his palm, rubbing it between his fingers before reaching for himself, slicking the thick length of his cock with slow, deliberate strokes. The gel glistened over every ridge, every vein, dripping down his fingers as he made sure—thoroughly—that there would be no friction.

Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, her eyes flicking between his hand and the sheer size of him, and fuck—he saw it, the exact moment it hit her.

Xavier smirked, dark and slow.

Then, he moved.

One hand braced against the mattress beside her head, the other gripping the base of his cock as he lined himself up, the swollen tip pressing against her entrance, hot and slick. A full-body shudder ran through her, her legs tensing around his hips as she felt it—just the pressure, just the weight of him sitting there, not even inside yet.

“Look at me,” he murmured, voice low, steady.

Her eyes lifted to his, wide, still hazy from everything that had come before, but present—focused.

“Deep breath,” Xavier whispered.

She exhaled, slow and measured, and he took that moment to push forward.

Just the tip.

A sharp gasp tore from her throat, her fingers flying up to grip his shoulders, nails sinking in. Her whole body tensed, locking up for half a second before she forced herself to relax, her thighs trembling against him. Xavier groaned, deep and rough, his fingers flexing against the sheets.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his jaw clenching. “You feel insane.”

The heat of her—tight, slick, already gripping him so fucking perfectly—was unbearable. And he was barely inside.

He eased forward another inch, watching the way her brows drew together, the way her lips parted, her breath coming in shaky little bursts. Every movement, every shift, sent another pulse of pressure through her, another slow, deliberate stretch that made her body tense before relaxing again.

She was taking him.

Barely.

But she was.

Her fingers curled against his biceps, gripping, bracing. Her breath hitched as she swallowed hard, voice unsteady when she gasped, “Are you—?”

Xavier let out a weak, breathless laugh, shaking his head. His body was taut with restraint, every muscle locked tight as he fought to hold himself back. One hand slid up her waist, tracing the curve of her ribs before cupping the back of her neck, his fingers threading into her hair.

He pulled her forward just enough. Just enough for her to see.

“Look,” he murmured, rough, low.

Her gaze dropped between them, and—oh.

Her stomach clenched, breath catching, pulse hammering in her ears.

Because he had barely—barely—gotten the tip inside.

And yet, she felt impossibly full. Stretched to the brink. Completely stuffed with just that first inch.

Her throat tightened.

Xavier exhaled against her lips, his voice nothing but heat and wicked amusement when he whispered—

“We’ve got at least eight more inches to go, baby.”

Then, before she could process, before she could even think to respond—

He pushed forward another inch. Her whole body reacted, thighs tensing, fingers tightening where they gripped his arms. A soft, helpless whimper slipped out, her walls clenching around him as he filled her just that much more.

Xavier groaned, deep and guttural, his breath hot against her ear.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he muttered, his hand squeezing the back of her neck, grounding her, soothing her. "Relax for me. Let me in."

He rocked his hips, easing that inch in and out, letting her adjust, making sure she could take it before pushing any deeper.

The stretch was unrelenting, an ache that teetered between overwhelming and intoxicating. She felt herself throbbing around him, her body instinctively clenching, trying to accommodate something it had never taken before. Every shallow thrust, every inch he gave her, made her whimper, her body struggling to decide if it was too much or if she wanted more.

Xavier could feel it. Could feel the way her body fought and then surrendered, over and over again.

He groaned, resting his forehead against hers. "That's it," he murmured, coaxing, praising. "You're taking me so well."

He pushed again, another inch.

Her breath hitched, her nails digging into his skin, and she gasped, "Xavier—"

"I know," he murmured, his voice tight, strained with his own restraint. His lips ghosted over her jaw, his fingers gripping her thigh. "You're doing so fucking good."

The stretch was unbearable. The fullness, impossible. Every inch he gave her felt like too much, and yet—somehow—she took it. Slowly. Carefully. His thick cock pried her open in aching increments, Xavier rocking it in, then out, then deeper, always waiting for her body to accept it before giving her more.

Her nails clawed at his shoulders, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as she tried to process the sensation—the raw, unrelenting stretch of him inside her, filling her past what she thought she could take. He moved with agonizing patience, inching deeper, letting her feel every ridge, every vein, every impossible bit of him forcing her walls to accommodate. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. It was both at once, and the contradiction made her dizzy, made her toes curl against the sheets, made her moans break apart into helpless little sounds.

Xavier groaned, his forehead pressing against hers, his fingers tightening where they gripped her thigh. He was barely keeping himself together. Every clench, every squeeze of her body around him was a vice, threatening to pull him under, to shatter the last thread of restraint he had left. Sweat slicked his chest, dampening the space between them, and his jaw ached from how tightly he was holding himself back.

And still—he waited.

Waited for her to open. Waited for her to take him.

Ten minutes. Ten agonizing, torturous minutes of slow, relentless stretching, of her gasping, moaning, whimpering beneath him. Of his fingers gripping her thigh, his lips brushing against her ear, murmuring soft, broken praises as she took him—inch by inch, impossible inch.

Then—

Something gave.

Something deep inside her—some final resistance—just melted.

And suddenly, with a sharp, slick slide, he was in.

All the way.

Her body locked up. A strangled, wrecked moan tore from her throat, her back arching, her fingers digging into his back like she didn’t know whether to pull him closer or push him away. The shock of it crashed into her all at once—the stretch, the pressure, the unbearable fullness. She had never felt anything like this, had never been this completely stuffed, this devastatingly wrecked, and for a split second, it was too much.

Her legs flexed, thighs tensing where they wrapped around his hips, and then—before she could even think about it—she was moving, her body instinctively trying to shift away, to escape the overwhelming sensation.

Xavier caught it immediately.

The second she started to squirm, his hands shot to her waist, firm and unyielding, locking her in place. He chuckled, low and rough, the sound pure amusement laced with heat, with possession. His fingers dug into her hips, anchoring her, keeping her from inching even a fraction away from him.

“Come back here,” he murmured, his voice thick with smug satisfaction. He pushed forward, pressing her deeper into the mattress, making sure she felt every inch still pulsing inside her. “Don’t run now, not after you talked so much shit.”

A jagged breath tore from her lungs, sharp and shuddering, her body caught in the razor-thin space between resistance and surrender. Her eyes flew open, locking onto his, only to find him already watching her—amused, enthralled, a dark, knowing smirk stretching across his lips. He was enjoying this. Every little tremble, every fluttering pulse of her body struggling to adjust, to take him, to accept every impossible inch.

Xavier's thumb traced up the curve of her thigh, slow and taunting, dragging goosebumps in his wake. Then, without warning, his hips shifted—just enough, just barely a motion at all, but the deep, grinding press of him inside her sent a bolt of sensation shooting through her spine. She jolted violently, her nails clawing into the solid heat of his arms, desperate for something to ground her as a strangled moan spilled from her lips.

“Xavier—” Her voice broke, half a plea, half a warning.

“That’s my name, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing the line of her jaw, warm, teasing, and entirely unrepentant. His voice dripped with pure sin, thick with a satisfaction that made her stomach twist, made heat coil tighter and tighter in her core. “Say it again.”

Her breath hitched, her head falling back against the pillows as he rolled his hips, the movement devastating in its precision—deep, deliberate, meant to be felt in every nerve, every muscle, every inch of her body stretched tight around him. He was in no rush, no frantic pace, no reckless abandon. Just control. Just that slow, unbearable rhythm that sent wave after wave of electricity crackling beneath her skin.

"You can take it." The confidence in his voice was absolute, unwavering. His grip on her waist tightened, fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled her back onto him, as if to prove a point. His eyes burned into hers, filled with challenge, with hunger, with the unshakable certainty that he knew her limits better than she did. "You wanted to prove it, right?" His hips rolled, forcing her to feel every inch of him, thick and unrelenting. "So take it."

Her thighs quivered. Her breath shuddered. And for a fleeting moment, she thought she might fall apart completely. But she didn’t. Instead, she exhaled—long, slow, steady—forcing herself to relax, to let go, to stop fighting the sensation that was already swallowing her whole.

Xavier felt it the second she surrendered.

“There you go,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over the shell of her ear, his breath warm and wicked against her skin. “Knew you could.”

And then—he kissed her.

Not soft. Not sweet. Messy, desperate, his mouth crashing against hers in a raw collision of heat and hunger. His tongue slid against hers, tasting, claiming, his kiss a reflection of everything happening between them—deep, consuming, and completely fucking reckless. He knew. He fucking knew. This was trouble. This was bad because now that he had her—now that he’d felt this—there was no way in hell he was ever going to get enough.

Xavier’s breath came heavy, ragged, his forehead nearly pressed against hers as he pulled back just an inch—just enough to feel the way her walls clenched around him, hot, wet, gripping him with every shuddering breath she took. His cock throbbed, thick and unyielding, seated so impossibly deep inside her that the air in his lungs turned to fire.

Then—he pushed forward.

Slow. Deliberate. Devastating.

Her moan vibrated against his lips, swallowed by his mouth, her body trembling beneath him as he filled her completely, stretching her, overwhelming her with the sheer intensity of it. The first thrust was careful, controlled. So was the second.

By the third, his control snapped.

Xavier’s fingers curled into the sheets beside her head, his muscles taut, coiled tight as he pulled back further this time—almost halfway—before slamming back in, driving into her with a thick, deep thrust that ripped a gasp from her throat. Her legs wrapped around him, instinctive, clinging, pulling him closer even as her body struggled to adjust to the relentless fullness of him.

“Fuck—” she whimpered, her nails raking down his back, dragging fire in their wake.

Xavier groaned, low and rough, feeling every squeeze, every flutter, every helpless little tremor of pleasure wracking through her as he moved. He tried to keep it slow. He tried to let her adjust. But with every slick, wet slide of his cock through the unbearable heat of her, his control crumbled, piece by piece, until nothing was left but raw, reckless need.

Her moans grew louder. His breathing came heavier.

And the sounds—the obscene, slick noises of him pounding into her, the creak of the bed, the breathless, gasping way she took every inch—

It was too much.

He needed more.

Xavier pulled back nearly all the way this time before slamming into her hard enough to knock a cry from her lips. His body shuddered, his forehead pressing against hers, his breath hot and jagged as he groaned through clenched teeth.

“Shit,” he panted, his fingers digging into her thighs, spreading her open, holding her still as he rocked into her again—slower, but harder, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure tearing through both of them.

He was losing it.

And he didn’t fucking care.

With a growl of frustration, he grabbed her legs, shoving them up, pressing her knees toward her chest.

Her breath hitched. “Fuck—”

Fully open. Fully at his mercy.

And that was it.

That was fucking it.

Xavier snapped, his hips slamming forward, his rhythm dissolving into something rough, relentless, filthy, each thrust wringing broken, gasping moans from her lips. He was buried so deep now, stretching her so wide, dragging her further and further into something she couldn’t even name.

There was no pain—only pleasure.

Pure, unfiltered sensation.

The unbearable stretch of him filling her, hitting deeper than before, grinding against something inside her that sent her spinning, her body tightening around him in ways that made his vision blur.

Her mouth hung open, slack, wordless.

Her eyes, wide and hazy, completely fucked out.

He braced himself above her, his fingers digging into her thighs, his muscles flexing as he pounded into her, unable to stop, unable to slow down, unable to do anything but chase the unbearable pleasure consuming them both.

“Look at you,” he panted, watching the way she came apart beneath him, his breath hot, his voice thick with something dark, something reverent. His grip tightened, his pace turning brutal. “Taking all of me—fuck, you feel so fucking good—”

Her moans were getting louder, her nails scratching at his forearms, her body trembling as the pleasure built higher, sharper, winding so tight she could barely breathe.

Xavier’s fingers slid between them, rough and desperate, searching until they found her clit. The moment he pressed down, rubbing slow, firm circles against the swollen bud, her body reacted on instinct—a sharp, uncontrolled jerk, a gasp punched straight from her lungs. The pleasure was unbearable, a white-hot current snapping through her nerves, setting every inch of her aflame. He felt her shudder, felt the tension winding so tight inside her it was moments from snapping, and fuck, he needed to push her over that edge.

"Yeah—" he groaned, his voice raw, thick with something dark and demanding. His thumb moved faster, pressing, circling, stroking her with precision, with purpose, his cock still buried deep inside her, stretching her, wrecking her from the inside out. Every thrust sent another wave of sensation rippling through her, dragging her closer and closer to the brink. "Cum on it," Xavier growled, his breath hot against her lips, his forehead pressing against hers as he pinned her beneath him. "Fucking do it."

Her walls fluttered around him, squeezing, gripping, so impossibly tight he nearly lost himself right then and there. He could feel it, the way her body was fighting it, clenching around him like it didn’t want to let go, like she was teetering on the edge but not quite ready to fall. His own release was rising fast, a relentless, searing pressure building low in his stomach, threatening to rip through him at any second. "Come on, baby," he ground out, his jaw tight, his rhythm turning erratic as he chased it, as he chased her. "Let me feel you—let me fucking—"

She shattered.

A broken, wrecked cry tore from her throat, her entire body locking up, then trembling violently as pleasure slammed into her. Her pussy clamped down on him, an unforgiving vice, pulsing, milking, dragging him into the fire right alongside her. Xavier barely had time to process it before he was gone too, before his control snapped like a wire pulled too tight, breaking under the unbearable heat of her.

"Fuck—" he choked, his breath ragged, his hips snapping forward once, twice—

And then he was lost.

His orgasm hit like a wrecking ball, slamming into him so hard it left his vision swimming, his limbs locking up as pure, white-hot pleasure exploded through his body. His spine arched, every muscle seizing as he groaned, his voice breaking, wrecked, his body acting on pure, desperate instinct—thrusting deep, burying himself inside her as he spilled into her, thick and hot and endless. It didn’t stop. It just kept coming. His cock throbbed inside her, jerking with every pulse, every wave of release that crashed through him, dragging him down, deeper and deeper, drowning him in it.

Xavier could feel everything—the way she clenched around him, fluttering, milking, the way her body trembled beneath him, still wracked with aftershocks that refused to fade. It was unbearable, the way she held onto him, like she never wanted to let go, like she was pulling him deeper, taking everything he had to give. His breath was uneven, his skin damp with sweat, his pulse hammering so hard he swore he could hear it echoing in his ears.

He had never cum like this before. Never. And now—now he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover.

His breath hitched as another wave of pleasure surged through him, raw and unrelenting. His cock twitched inside her, overstimulated, still buried deep, still leaking, his release dripping between them, making everything slick and messy where they were joined. His entire body shook with it, muscles locking, heat crawling up his spine like a live wire sparking out of control.

"Fuck—fuck—" His voice cracked on the words, his forehead pressing against the damp skin of her throat as he fought to steady himself. But he couldn’t. His hips ground forward instinctively, chasing every last ounce of sensation, dragging out the unbearable pleasure that bordered on pain, on something too much, too intense, too overwhelming.

His fingers flexed against her thighs, gripping hard enough to leave imprints, as if anchoring himself to her was the only way to keep from unraveling completely.

"Jesus Christ," he gasped, breathless, ruined, his chest rising and falling in uneven, desperate pulls of air.

Beneath him, she was still trembling, her own climax still shuddering through her, waves of pleasure rolling over her body like an aftershock that refused to fade. Her walls pulsed around him in time with her ragged breaths, tightening with every involuntary twitch, and fuck—

He could barely breathe.

Could barely think.

All he knew was her.

The heat of her, the way she wrapped around him so perfectly, the way her skin burned against his, slick with sweat, with desire, with everything that had just happened between them.

His lips found the side of her neck, brushing against the damp skin, leaving the softest, most absentminded of kisses in his haze. His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out everything but the sound of their breathing, the faint creak of the bed beneath them, the lingering wet, sinful sounds of their bodies still connected. He had never—never—felt like this before and now? Now, he knew he was fucked because there was no way this would be enough.

No way he’d ever stop wanting this, wanting her, wanting the way she melted beneath him, the way she took every inch, the way she moaned his name in a voice so wrecked it made his stomach tighten all over again. No, this wasn’t just a one-time thing. He was never going to get enough of her.

Xavier didn’t move.

Didn’t even try.

His body was heavy, muscles boneless, limbs tangled with hers in a mess of overheated skin and slow, exhausted breathing. He should’ve shifted, should’ve rolled off her, but fuck—he couldn’t. He was drained, wrecked, every last ounce of strength pulled from his body and poured into hers until there was nothing left to give.

So he just lay there, pressed against her, his weight solid and unyielding, pinning her to the mattress like an anchor keeping her from floating away.

She didn’t complain.

Didn’t tell him to move, didn’t push at his shoulders or squirm beneath him. If anything, she just let out a long, slow exhale, her body softening beneath him, one leg still hitched lazily around his waist, keeping him there. Her fingers, light and absentminded, found their way into his hair, slipping through the sweat-damp strands with a slow, idle rhythm.

The sensation sent a pleasant shiver down his spine, a warmth curling deep in his chest that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the way she was touching him—soft, gentle, like she wasn’t in any rush to move either.

His breath came slow, measured, his cheek resting against the curve of her shoulder, his lips just barely brushing her skin as he murmured, voice hoarse, “If I die here, just leave me.”

A quiet huff of laughter vibrated through her chest. “Not even gonna try to move?”

“Nope.” He shifted just enough to nuzzle against her neck, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re stuck with me now.”

She snorted, her nails scratching lightly against his scalp, slow and deliberate. “I think I already was.”

Xavier hummed in agreement, his eyes slipping shut as he let himself sink into the sensation. The weight of her beneath him, the warmth of her fingers in his hair, the slow, steady rise and fall of their breathing syncing up—it was grounding, steadying, something he didn’t even realize he needed until this moment.

A long pause stretched between them, comfortable, easy. 

“Damn,” she muttered, tilting her head back against the pillows. “Now I see why no one else could take it.”

His body shook with a rough, breathless laugh, his chest vibrating against hers. “Told you.”

She smirked, her fingers tightening slightly in his hair, giving it a light tug that made his breath hitch. “Yeah, yeah. I get it now. I was talking a lot of shit, huh?”

“Mm.” He cracked an eye open, glancing up at her through heavy lids, his smirk lazy, teasing. “So much shit.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no real bite to it. Just something warm, something fond, something that made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t ready to unpack. Another silence. Another slow, shared breath.

Then, quieter, more thoughtful—“You’re really not gonna move, are you?”

Xavier sighed dramatically, burrowing his face into the crook of her neck. “Nope.”

She let out a soft, exasperated laugh, shaking her head as her fingers resumed their slow, lazy strokes through his hair.

“Fine,” she murmured, voice softer now, something drowsy threading through it. “But if my legs stop working after this, it’s your fault.”

He smirked against her skin, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her shoulder before murmuring, “Worth it.” they lay there—breathless, tangled, unwilling to let go.

— The library was quiet, save for the soft rustling of pages and the distant, rhythmic tapping of someone’s fingers against a keyboard. The air smelled like old books and printer ink, that distinct, slightly musty scent of academia. She had been sitting there for at least an hour, legs crossed beneath the table, a stack of textbooks spread out in front of her, diligently ignoring the persistent ache between her thighs.

She was sore. Very sore, every slight shift reminded her. Every time she pressed her knees together or shifted in her seat, her body sent little pulses of overstimulation through her core, as if echoing—you took all of him. Just as she was absently twirling her pen between her fingers, skimming the same paragraph for the third time, something warm, something firm, something familiar brushed against the side of her neck.

Soft lips. A kiss.

She gasped, a sharp, startled little squeak escaping before she could stop it, the pen slipping from her fingers as she whipped her head around—

Only for Xavier to catch her mouth with his, swallowing the sound before it could fully leave her lips.

His kiss was lazy, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to take her apart right there between the stacks of books and worn-out wooden desks. His tongue brushed against hers in a slow, deliberate tease, tasting like coffee and something sweet, and damn him—he knew exactly what he was doing.

She made a muffled noise of protest, hands shoving lightly at his chest, but he didn’t budge. His lips curled against hers in amusement before he finally, finally pulled back just enough to smirk down at her, blue eyes glinting with mischief.

"You scared me," she huffed, pressing a hand against her chest as if to steady her heartbeat.

His smirk widened. "You liked it."

She rolled her eyes. "I jumped."

"Yeah, right into my mouth," Xavier murmured, his voice low, teasing, the rough edge of it sending a shiver down her spine.

She glared, but it had no real heat. "What are you even doing here?"

Xavier plopped into the seat beside her, his long legs spreading wide, taking up more space than necessary. His hoodie was slightly rumpled like he had just rolled out of bed—probably had, knowing him. His fingers found the edge of her notebook, spinning it idly before he tilted his head and drawled, "I was thinking about you."

Her stomach did something ridiculous.

She folded her arms. "Uh-huh."

His gaze flicked over her, sharp and assessing, before he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her cheek. "And how are you feeling today?" His voice dipped, smooth and knowing, the kind of knowing that sent heat rushing straight to her face.

Her eyes narrowed. "I hate you."

His grin was immediate. "That sore, huh?"

Her face burned hotter. "Shut up—"

Xavier leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head, the fabric of his hoodie riding up just enough to flash a sliver of his toned stomach. He was relaxed, unbothered, the perfect picture of someone who had not spent the past twenty-four hours dealing with the consequences of a very enthusiastic night.

His smirk deepened as he dropped his arms and leaned in again, his voice a low murmur just for her. "I could help with that, you know."

Her thighs pressed together instinctively. "Absolutely not."

"Why not?" He looked downright smug now, his fingers tracing the edge of her open textbook, barely even pretending to be interested in its contents. "We could go find an empty study room. Lock the door. Help you stretch out those sore muscles—"

"Xavier." Her voice was sharp, warning. 

His grin didn’t falter. "What?"

"You’re ridiculous."

"And you," he countered smoothly, his fingers brushing over the back of her hand now, slow and deliberate, "love it."

She hated that he wasn’t wrong, though she also hated the way her body reacted—how the heat pooled low in her stomach, how her breath caught just slightly when his fingers traced higher, slipping over her wrist, his thumb pressing lightly against the quick, fluttering beat of her pulse.

"You’re impossible," she muttered.

Xavier’s smirk turned wolfish. "And yet, here I am."

She sighed dramatically, glancing around the library, half-expecting someone to be glaring at them for the blatant flirting. But no one seemed to care—either that or Xavier had chosen his moment well, the tables around them mostly empty.

She turned back to him, fixing him with an unimpressed look. "Some of us are actually here to study."

His fingers ghosted higher, toying with the hem of her sleeve. "Uh-huh. And some of us," he murmured, leaning in just a fraction closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, "are still thinking about the way you moaned my name last night."

Her stomach dropped and breath hitched. Her fingers clenched into the fabric of her sweater, and she swore she felt her pulse throb between her legs, an unwelcome reminder that yes, she was still sore, and yes, that soreness was entirely his fault.

Xavier noticed. Of course, he did. His gaze flickered down to where her thighs had squeezed together, and his smirk turned positively sinful.

"You’re evil," she whispered, barely able to get the words out.

He only chuckled, sitting back in his chair as if he hadn’t just wrecked her entire focus in under five minutes. His fingers traced a mindless pattern over her wrist before he finally released her and shrugged.

"You love it."

The quiet study room was dim, the flickering fluorescent light overhead humming faintly, casting uneven shadows against the walls. It smelled faintly of old textbooks and printer paper, but none of that mattered—not when Xavier had her perched on the edge of the vacant desk, her legs spread just enough for him to kneel between them, his broad shoulders wedged comfortably between her thighs.

His mouth was already on her.

Hot. Wet. Worshipful.

His lips brushed over her clit, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud with slow, deliberate care, like he was savoring her, memorizing every reaction. A groan vibrated against her, deep and low, making her shudder.

"Fuck," Xavier murmured against her, his breath hot, his voice thick with something almost reverent. "Still so fucking sensitive, huh?"

She whimpered, fingers threading into his dark hair, gripping, but not pulling away.

His hands tightened around her thighs, fingers digging in just enough to steady her, to hold her open, to keep her from closing her legs around his head no matter how much the pleasure made her want to. He kissed her clit again, softer this time, gentler, his tongue teasing slow, lazy circles around it before flicking over it again.

Her breath hitched.

It was too much—not in a bad way, but in a way that had her squirming, heat curling in her belly, her body still sore from the last time he had touched her. He could feel the slight tremble in her thighs, the lingering overstimulation making her muscles tighten every time he licked at her just right.

His fingers traced higher, slipping between her folds, stroking through the slickness he had coaxed from her with his mouth.

"You’re still so tender," he murmured, almost to himself, his voice lined with something warm, something possessive.

She was swollen, still stretched from taking him the night before, and fuck—he couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop the flicker of pride that ignited in his chest at the sight of her, the evidence of what they had done still written into the softness of her body.

He dipped a single finger inside her, slow and careful, groaning softly at the way she clenched around him immediately.

She let out a breathy moan, her head tipping back against the desk. "Xavier—"

"I got you," he soothed, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. "Just relax for me, baby."

His other hand rubbed gentle, soothing circles against her hip, grounding her, letting her adjust as he worked his finger deeper, slow and careful, feeling the heat, the tightness, the way she stretched so easily for him despite the soreness.

He curled his finger slightly, stroking that soft, spongy spot inside her, and she gasped, hips jerking.

"There it is," he murmured, smirking against her thigh, his thumb circling her clit again, gentle but insistent.

A shudder wracked through her, her breath coming in short, hitched gasps. Her fingers clenched in his hair, but Xavier didn’t stop—he eased another finger inside, stretching her, fucking her slow, deliberate, making sure she could take it, making sure she was ready.

Her thighs trembled.

She was so fucking wet.

"That’s it," he praised, his voice rough, thick with arousal. "You’re doing so good for me."

He worked her open with slow, careful thrusts of his fingers, his tongue still teasing her clit, slow and precise, not rushing, just feeling. Letting her adjust. Letting her get to the point where she wasn’t just wet—she was dripping, slick coating his fingers, making obscene, wet noises every time he curled them inside her.

And fuck—he needed more.

His cock was already hard, aching, straining against his jeans, the restraint nearly painful.

When he finally decided she was ready, he pulled his fingers away, a last slow stroke dragging through her wetness before he was standing, unbuttoning his jeans, his breath coming heavier, his jaw clenched tight.

His cock was thick, heavy in his hand as he stroked himself once, twice, smearing the slick wetness from the tip down his length before gripping her thighs, pulling her closer.

"Let me know if it’s too much," he whispered, voice softer now, rough but careful, as he positioned himself against her, the swollen head of his cock pressing against her entrance.

She nodded, her breath coming fast, her lips parted, her body already arching toward him despite the lingering soreness.

Xavier exhaled, steadying himself, pressing one last kiss against her knee before slowly, carefully pushing inside.

She was still so fucking tight, sliding inside her was easier this time. Still tight. Still warm. Still so fucking wet it made his head spin but there was no resistance, no slow stretch like before. Her body took him smoothly, greedily, wrapping around him in a way that felt like she was made for this—for him.

Xavier groaned low in his throat, his grip tightening on her hips as he bottomed out, buried to the hilt, feeling every slick, pulsing inch of her clench around him. His forehead pressed against hers, his breath uneven, ragged.

“Fuck,” he murmured, voice thick, wrecked, his fingers flexing against her skin. “Feels so good, baby.”

She whimpered softly, her hands sliding up his arms, nails dragging lightly over his biceps before gripping his shoulders. Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper, as if she wasn’t already taking every inch.

Xavier didn’t move yet. He let her feel it. Let her adjust. His hands roamed up her body, fingers tracing the soft curve of her waist before gliding higher, thumbs brushing over the swell of her breasts through her shirt.

He didn’t even hesitate—he tugged the fabric up, pushing it above her chest, exposing her completely.

His cock twitched inside her at the sight, his breath catching.

“Fucking perfect,” he murmured, his thumbs skimming over her nipples, watching as they pebbled under his touch. She made a soft, needy sound, her back arching slightly.

Xavier smirked, rolling one nipple between his fingers, pinching lightly, testing. So he did it again, rolling and tugging just a little harder this time, watching as her lips parted, as her walls fluttered around him.

“You like that?” he murmured against her lips, his voice a warm rasp.

She nodded breathlessly. Xavier’s mouth curved before he dipped his head, catching her lips in a slow, deep kiss. His fingers tugged at her nipples again, just enough to make her gasp into his mouth, her body tightening around him in response. The sensation sent a sharp pulse of pleasure through him, made his grip on her tighten, made his restraint crack just a little.

He couldn’t wait anymore. He needed to move.

So he did. His hips pulled back, just enough to feel the delicious drag of her walls clenching around him, and then he thrust forward again, sinking back into her warmth with a steady, measured pace.

She moaned softly against his lips, her hands gripping his shoulders as he found a rhythm, rolling his hips with a slow, deliberate precision, fucking her with deep, steady strokes that left no space between them.

His mouth never left hers,  kissed her through every thrust, swallowing every little gasp, every moan, every breathless sound she made. His tongue brushed against hers, his teeth catching her bottom lip, tugging lightly before sucking it into his mouth. Thighs clenched around his waist, her body melting beneath him, pliant, eager, desperate for more. Xavier growled low in his throat, breaking the kiss just long enough to murmur against her lips, voice rough. “Hold on to me, baby.”

The way his hips moved—relentless, deep, precise—she couldn’t even think. Couldn’t breathe. Every thrust sent shockwaves through her, striking something inside her so devastatingly perfect it left her vision blurry, her body unraveling with every roll of his hips. She wasn’t in pain. No, far from it.

This was something else. Something beyond pleasure, beyond any sensation she had ever known before. It built too fast, too strong, tightening low in her belly, curling hot and desperate until it snapped without warning. Her release crashed into her, stealing the air from her lungs, her body locking up as a strangled moan ripped from her throat. She clenched around him, hard, her walls squeezing in waves that had her nails digging into his back, her legs tightening around his waist.

Xavier choked on a curse, his rhythm faltering for half a second before his body seized, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises as his own release hit him just as fast. He buried himself deep, groaning against her lips, his whole body shuddering as he spilled into her, heat flooding her as he twitched inside her, as his hips gave one last slow, stuttering grind before he slumped against her, wrecked.

Their breathing was ragged, uneven, the room spinning around them. Xavier’s forehead pressed against hers, his breath hot and unsteady as he let out a rough, breathless laugh.

“Jesus fuck,” he panted, pressing a lazy kiss to her jaw, his lips curling into a smirk. “You just came all over my dick, baby.”

She groaned, tilting her head back against the desk. “Shut up.”

His teeth grazed her throat as he chuckled. “Make me.”

She tried to glare at him, but her body was still pulsing with aftershocks, her brain still foggy from how completely he had just wrecked her.

Xavier kissed her again, slower this time, softer. His hands smoothed over her thighs, rubbing gentle, lazy circles, soothing the tremors that still lingered in her muscles. When he finally pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes were darker, something warm and smug flickering beneath the surface.

“Think I just found your new favorite study break.” The weight of him was still pressed against her, their bodies tangled, breaths uneven, the air between them thick with something neither of them had the words for yet. Xavier’s fingers traced along her cheek, slow, almost hesitant, the roughness of his calloused fingertips a stark contrast to the softness of her skin. His thumb brushed over her lips, lingering there for a second before he leaned in, pressing the gentlest kiss to her mouth.

It was different this time. Not hungry, not desperate—just soft.

Almost unsure. When he pulled back, his eyes searched hers, something raw flickering behind the lazy confidence he usually carried.

“You’re mine, right?” His voice was quiet, lower than usual, like he wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

She blinked at him, caught off guard by the question, by the sudden vulnerability in his tone.

“Who else’s would I be?” she asked, brows furrowing slightly, genuinely confused, just like that, Xavier exhaled, tension melting from his shoulders, something deep inside him settling.

His lips twitched, his smirk returning, softer this time, more real. “Yeah,” he murmured, brushing his nose against hers. “That’s what I thought.” as if for a moment he hadn’t had the flicker of uncertainty flood through him. Then he kissed her again, slow and deep, this time with confidence, with certainty—like he was claiming her.

[coff33andb00ks]

world around us

summary: you're a candle in the window on a cold dark winter's night word count: 1k pairing: lando norris x oscar piastri x driver!reader (lilli. it's lilli) warnings: just pure fluff, slightly suggestive language(?) a.n.: final installation of my I need Lilli to have an amazing birthday series! this is once again for @maxlarens HAPPY BIRTHDAY LILLI MY LOVE!!! playlist: completely unhinged songs that fit the vibe

"No no no no no no no! You can't do that! You fuckin' muppet!"

Oscar mirrors your eye roll as Lando protests you placing a house on one of your properties. "She owns it though?" he says tentatively.

Lando scoffs, snatching up the guide and snapping it open. "The rules say–"

"I refuse to follow rules when you rolled twice so you wouldn't go to jail," you say with a huff, snatching the guide from him.

"I had to! One of the dice landed on the floor!"

"Oh but when we play golf I have to play no matter where my ball lands?"

"Yes." Lando gives you a look of disbelief, as though the idea of breaking a golfing rule is akin to murder. "It's not my fault you can't hit a ball straight."

"Just for that–" You slap more brightly colored money in front of Oscar - Oscar has to be the banker he's the most honest one among us - and grab a hotel to replace the house. "Suffer."

Lando groans, throwing up his hands. "You're cheating. I hate games night."

Oscar's grin shifts and he begins to chuckle. "We could play Trivial Pursuit?"

"No," Lando whines, picking up the dice to take his turn. "That game makes me feel stupid."

"Uno?" you suggest sweetly.

"No, we'll finish this. Capitalism is good to me, I'll make a comeback." Lando nods to himself as he shakes the dice. "Just shut up so I can focus."

And then, twenty minutes later–

"What d'you mean I owe you double the rent?!"

The rules are checked - well this is fucking bullshit - and he counts out all of his money to pay up. Suddenly capitalism sucks and he's clinging to his one property block and his cash like they're his lifeline.

You'll never know how (he probably cheated) but he wins. Monopoly money rains down as he celebrates and you fall back with laughter when Oscar flips the board in disgust.

You love games night. The silly playlist Lando put together plays, Disney movies play, muted, on the tv, and you've got them.

Lando and Oscar. Your biggest rivals on the track and your closest friends off. You're celebrating Oscar's first win this week now that summer break is here, enjoying the lazy days before you each take off in different directions to visit family and recuperate from an exhausting first half of the season.

"Loser cleans up," you remind Oscar and he groans as he gives you a kiss then begins picking up the mess. Lando's singing along to the latest country song he's obsessed with - Is it your heart or mine? Is it whiskey or wine? Is it somethin' in the night Makin' us wanna cross that line? - and he follows you into the kitchen to get more drinks.

"You sure you don't want to come along with me?" he asks, reaching around you to get a beer from the fridge.

"Let me see... Golfing with a bunch of men versus beach time with my best friends…" You hum thoughtfully, squealing when loops an arm around you.

"That can't be right. Me and Osco are your best friends," he says.

"Let me rephrase. Best women friends."

He's holding you close, swaying a little to the song playing - you think Oscar's the one who added ABBA, or maybe it was you - and you smile a little as you sway with him. He hums songs without realizing it and it's one of his more endearing habits.

"But I'll miss you," he murmurs, tucking his chin on your shoulder.

"I'll miss you too." And you will. This season you've grown closer to him. Literally, considering he finally talked you - and Oscar - into moving to Monaco. But also figuratively. You're just as rough on yourself as he is on himself, and with all the macho bravado that surrounds you every race week, it's nice to have someone who understands your being upset over missing out on a podium due to your own failings as a driver, your miscommunication with the team. It's rarer to have someone who understands shouldering the blame of the team's missteps – if I was better at this, they would trust my judgment but I'm not so they don't and that means—

"Not getting sappy on me are you?" Lando teases.

"You started it," you mutter. Turning, you wrap your arms around him. "We can live a few weeks without each other."

"I mean… You'll text right? Call?" he asks softly.

"FaceTime too," you promise.

It's tentative and new and so fucking scary but he gives you a soft kiss. Not your first with him, but it still makes your heart do that weird little flutter that it's only ever done with one other person.

"Jenga?" Oscar calls from the living room and Lando perks up instantly, nearly knocking you down in his haste to get back to the only other person he's going to miss during break.

Jenga with your boys is impossible. They're too competitive, know too many things they can say that make the other break and send the blocks flying.

"Oh of course he's going for the bottom, man loves to be at the bottom," Oscar mutters to you and Lando's giggling, covering his face with his hands as the tower collapses.

The games are abandoned, and you're squished on the couch between them, Oscar's lips on your ear, Lando's head on your stomach as the three of you, tipsy and relaxed, begin making plans for the last days of break while a Studio Ghibli movie plays. It's not said by either of you, but you already know that the three of you will find each other long before the break is over.

The world is easier to bear when it's the three of you together. It's still new, still tentative, still scary as hell, but it feels oh so right.

[ghostgirl-22]

I was thinking about how muscular, body and completely solid patrick is and how i dont necessarily think he has a bony ass cus weve seen his cakes but i think he knows how heavy he is and i think he likes to sit on art alot, whether hes straddling him or sat on his chest or his back, and i think art likes being crushed my him. He likes people putting their feet on him, standing on him, sat and crushing him like theyre some big mean bully or a weighted blanket. He tries so hard but to get hard

Here you are— thank you for this prompt <3

CW: MDNI NSFW

——

It happens for the first time when they're messing around in the dorm. It’s a rainy Saturday night and they can’t agree on what to watch. Usually they take turns with the remote. But Patrick thinks since Arts just flipping channels and hasn’t decided on anything yet that suddenly he doesn’t deserve the remote on his night. 

“Besides there’s a really fucking good hockey game on. History making.” Patrick points out.

Art doesn’t care about hockey. Not even a little bit. And Patrick really isn’t being fair. He never is. Art decides to hold his ground. He snatches the remote out of Patrick’s reach when he comes for it. 

Patrick chuckles but Art can see the inherent frustration on his face. “Dude come on you don’t even have anything to watch. You’re gonna make us watch this bullshit till we fall asleep,” he gestures at the television now playing an old episode of friends. 

“Well it’s my fucking day. If I want to watch this bullshit then—“

He’s interrupted when Patrick lunges for the remote again. Not a care for the fact that he’s launched himself on top of Art both of them falling onto his bed, Patrick reaching as Art holds the remote over his head. Just out of Patrick’s reach. Patrick grabbing at his arms. 

“Give me the remote!”

“It’s my fucking turn!” Art shouts back as they wrestle for it. Art can feel the difference when Patrick begins to use his weight against him. Patrick isn’t that much bigger than Art but he is bigger and he knows it. He eventually manages to pin Art to the bed, hands at his sides. Both of them sweating and breathing hard. And all Art can think is how heavy and warm Patrick’s body is, how good he smells even sweaty. How safe he feels with Patrick on top of him. so big and solid, easily holding him down. 

Patrick’s grinning and even though he’s clearly won Art is still squirming. Struggling like he has any hope of breaking free. Mostly because he doesn’t want Patrick to let go of him. But also, if Patrick lets go he’ll realize Art  has a boner. And how the fuck is he gonna explain that. 

So he keeps fighting Patrick off. “It’s my day! This isn’t fucking fair.” Art whines trying to press himself up.

“It is fair. Fair and square actually. Time to say uncle dude.” Patrick smirks. Shoving him back down easily. Shifting his pelvis to keep Art there and oh… oh fuck…in that moment Art swears he can feel the thick line of Patrick’s dick. Not exactly soft and quite notably bigger than his, pressed along his thigh. “Say it… say it,” Patrick’s laughing as he keeps Art down. 

Art is dizzy. Stomach suddenly full of butterflies. Squirming without realizing what he’s doing because it feelssogood. Squeezing his eyes shut like hes getting ready to drop on a roller coaster ride. Everything blue screening for just a minute and then he’s blinking himself back into reality as he feels wet heat spreading along his thigh. Holy shit. He just fucking came, god he just came in his fucking pants. He’s never gonna fucking recover from this.  

At the moment Patrick seems oblivious to it all, “dude are you okay? You look a little sick.” 

“I’m fine, you win okay,” Art says, knowing he’s gonna start turning tomato red in a minute. 

“Look how about if you give it to me now… you get it for the next two nights—“ 

“God Patrick… get off of me,” Art snaps. Shoving Patrick off and hurrying to his feet. 

“Dude,” Patrick sounds a little taken aback. “Hey man uh chill… im just messing around … here okay… take it. Don’t be mad.” he says, softly, holding out the remote as he watches art walk across the room and grab his towel. His gaze lowers to the dark spot on Art’s grey sweats and his brows furrow. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something but doesn’t.

Art wishes at that moment that the floor could swallow him up. He disappears into the bathroom without another word and Patrick at least gives him the dignity of never bringing it up again. He doesn’t come everytime Patricks on top of him from that point forward but he does get hard.

The next time he jizzes all over himself… it’s not just in front of Patrick so it's a little harder to recover from. All he can think is thankfully he was at practice and not in a game. 

He manages an impossible shot to win the second set after an endless rally against the Carpenter twins. Before he knows what’s happening Patrick’s jumping excitedly into his arms. They fall onto the court in a fit of giggles, Patrick rolling on top of him. All of his weight on Arts chest. His big sweaty body practically crushing him against the court. Patrick’s got his hands in Arts hair. Kissing his forehead. “I fucking love your kill shot man.” He exclaims.

Art sighs taking deep breaths… trying to inhale his scent, not sure what it is about it but he likes the smell. He also likes how hard it is to expand his lungs under Patrick’s mass. He gets so lost in the giggling and the sensations that it just happens. He’s fucking creaming his shorts again like a freak. Just instantaneously. In front of Patrick and the twins.

He panics pushing Patrick off, sitting up trying desperately to hide himself. Patrick still giggling until he sees Arts face. “Shit did I hurt you?”

“No,” Art says. He hurries to his feet and grabs his sweater off the bench, holding it in front of him to try and hide it. The Carpenter twins wearing matching smiles as they approach the net. Art fakes nausea so he can leave practice early. If Patrick or the twins realize what happened blessedly they don’t say anything. But Art knows now there’s something wrong with him. Something really wrong. 

The next time it happens, Patrick definitely realizes it. They’re piling into a car with the only sober kid after a party at Stanford. The driver, Owen, is insistent that all 7 guys can fit in his little jeep. 

“Come on, just scoot over,” he shouts from the drivers seat, “it’s not a long drive. Does someone want to take the trunk?” 

Art’s a little out of it. Not fall down drunk or anything but definitely real fucking tipsy, borderline drunk. He’s dumbdrunk enough to agree to do this and not call a cab which is probably much safer. He’s leaned up against the car door, Patrick sitting next to him. They’re pressed together so close that if they got any closer their shoulders and thighs might fuse together. And still there isn’t enough space.  Two more guys are standing outside. 

“Man Patty your thighs are fucking huge, can you cross your legs or something,” Owen snaps. 

“How about this?” Patrick says and he lifts up and just plops down right on to Arts lap. Big muscular thighs and broad solid back, he settles against Art’s chest like a heavy warm blanket. “Happy?” Patrick hiccups. 

A couple of the guys laugh. “Shit Donaldson be careful, it might be a bumpy ride,” Art’s teammate Clyde Stanton says with a smirk as he scoots over to the middle seat. Art wants to snap back but he’s already biting his tongue trying desperately not to get hard. 

“No that’s genius… Jason get on Clydes lap,” Owen says, directing the others. 

Art closes his eyes. God… it’s happening. There’s not much he can do. No matter how much he tries to fight it… he’s getting hard. And he knows Patrick can feel it. No matter how drunk Patrick is, there’s no way he can’t feel Art’s dick. It’s not like he’s got a little chubby, no of course he's getting a raging boner. Thankfully Patrick’s not saying anything. He’s not even moving away or freaking out. He’s just looking out the window like this is fucking normal. Elbow resting on the side panel.  Uncharacteristically quiet while the others talk about the night. 

They aren’t in the car long, but every minute feels like 10. Art feels both absolute mortification and a desire to stay like this all night. Patrick wiggles just a little bit and Art and just that feeling is too much… Hands shaking, breath hitching. He can feel the wet heat spreading along his boxers. Fuck. 

He knows Patrick can hear him, feel him. He’s trying to come up with a way to explain himself in his head. “It’s your girlfriend. I was so drunk I was thinking about Tashi and it made me jizz in my pants.” It’s weak but it’s better than the truth. “I just like when you’re on top of me.”   

Even though he’s desperately embarrassed, his brain is still mourning the loss of Patricks body heat when he gets up. Art has to sit in the car a minute to make sure the wet spot isn’t visible on his jeans. God what the fuck is wrong with him? Why is he insane? He pretends he’s just really drunk so the others don’t ask too many questions. He feels his skin heating up when Patrick smirks at him while they ride the elevator up in the residence hall with the other boys. 

Art’s roommate is home already but he’s fast asleep, snoring in front of the television. They sit on his bed kicking off their shoes and then Art attempts to get up and disappear into the bathroom when Patrick grabs his arm and drags back onto the bed. “wait a minute.” Patrick says softly. Getting on top when Art tries to get up again. Straddling him on the edge of his twin. He starts undoing Art’s jeans and Art is instantly panicking. 

“Patrick what are you—,” Art gasps, trying to push him away. 

“Shh…” Patrick says softly, reaching his hand inside. Warm fingers inside his boxers, brushing up against his dick… art can feel himself getting hard again while Patrick is smearing his fingers along the already sticky mess. “Oh….Fuck.” He grins.   

“It was… it was Tashi…” Art whispers, helplessly.  

“Tashi?” 

“In the car I was… I was thinking about Tashi…” Art says quickly. Patrick’s grin gets wider, his eyes glittering in the dim glow of the television. Art can feel Patrick’s knuckles brushing against him.   

“What are you thinking about now?” 

Art shakes his head and Patrick frees his hand and grabs Art’s face between both hands to keep him still. To keep his gaze.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Patrick teases. “Hm?”

“Stop it,” Art whispers. 

“Please…I wanna know,” Patrick leans in, he licks a stripe along Art’s bottom lip and when Art instinctively opens up Patrick slips his tongue inside. He tastes like cherry red and amaretto. Art hums softly, letting Patrick kiss him. Kissing him back. All of this brand new and fucking thrilling. There’s so much of him as he leans forward… pushing Art back onto the mattress. His hand slipping back inside Art’s boxers gripping his hard on

”You wanna fuck me?” Patrick sighs against his lips.

“Fuck… i… no im not… im” Art squirms and suddenly he’s feeling the heft of Patrick’s very big, veryfuckinghard dick suddenly pressed along his pelvis. “Fuck. Oh… God… Patrick,” he gasps. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Patrick sighs. “You like when I'm on your lap. Makes you want to put it inside me.”

”no I—“

”You have no idea how fucking hot that was. All I could think about was slipping my shorts down and letting you slipinside while both of us pretended nothing was happening.” He whispers.  

”Fuck…Patrick… oh oh my god.” Art whines, he feels breathless. Patrick’s dick. His dick is so big. So full. So hard. So close to Art’s… pressed so heavily against Art’s pelvis. The more of Patrick’s body that covers him the harder it is to keep still. And then they’re kissing again. It feels so good. Too fucking good. Art’s panting, pushing, struggling he’s gonna fucking blow his load again in one second if he keeps this up. 

“Patrick!” He cries and Patrick pulls back just in the nick of time, looking concerned and mildly horrified.

”Are you okay? Did I misread…”

”No I… no fuck… no…” Art is breathless because its happening anyway… he’s fucking spilling all over himself.  “God…” he gasps, sitting up and Patrick climbs quickly off of him. 

“Dude I’m sorry I thought—“ 

“No it’s okay…it’s fine I’m…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Art takes a deep breath. “I uh…” he gestures awkwardly to his pants. “It’s just it fucking happened again… it happens when you… if you make it hard for me to move. It makes me…it makes me cum.” He can’t think of a more humiliating thing to admit to anyone. He can’t even look at Patrick anymore. He’s just staring at his lap. Legs hanging off the bed. His pants unzipped, dark spot all over his boxers. Yeah it doesn’t get much more humiliating than this. 

Then an infomercial playing suddenly very loud on the television makes him look up. His roommate interrupts himself, mid-snore and Art panics. It could be worse. His roommate could be wake up for it. Fortunately he rolls over to face the wall. And then a minute later he resumes his regular snoring cadence. 

“So…you like when I’m holding you down?” Patrick asks quietly after what feels like a century.

“Yeah,” Art mutters, still staring blankly at the tv. “I don’t know. You're just so big and heavy and it feels like… I like it, I guess. I mean apparently I really fucking like it.” He chances a glance at Patrick. 

He looks amused. “That’s kinda fucking hot.” He grins. 

Art laughs and Patrick does too. He feels relieved almost instantly now that it’s out. Now that Patrick just knows it suddenly doesn’t feel so fucking shameful anymore. 

“Okay so…” Patrick sighs, still wearing the ghost of a smile. “So like…what if I pinned you down and rubbed my dick against you till I come?” His soft gaze going dark.

Art feels his heart rate pick up. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and nods. 

He’s barely able to keep quiet with Patrick on top of him. Grinding hard up against his ass. Pinning Arts hands over his head. Panting and moaning in Art’s ear as he chases his own orgasm. Art coming twice with Patrick heavy on top of him. already thinking that maybe next time he wants Patrick to do it inside of him. That he wants Patrick to fall asleep on top of him. Keep him safe and full and warm all night. And maybe Patrick’s right. Maybe it is kinda fucking hot.

(Prompt was brilliant poor execution is all on me sorry lovely!)

[morganwrites12672]

Five More Minutes

Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: Y/n tries to convince Sam to stay in bed for five more minutes, class can wait (Stanford!Sam).

Rating: PG-14

A/N: This is dedicated to the lovely @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles

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Y/n groaned and mumbled several rather colorful curses as the blaring alarm clock interrupted her sleep. On Tuesdays, Sam and Y/n had the same lecture. And, it was too goddamn early. Every week, she pleaded with Sam to stay in bed. Every week, Sam resisted.

Y/n wrapped her arms around Sam even tighter, glancing up at him. He gave her a tired smile and threaded his fingers through his hair. She knew he was about to get up. She didn't have long if she was going to convince him to stay in bed.

"Five more minutes," She pleaded, hoping he would agree. No one would notice if the two were late one week. It was only one time.

Sam sighed, she could see the contemplating look on his face as he gazed down at her. He wanted to stay in bed with her all day. It was his favorite place to be. Having her wrapped around him, it was his own personal heaven, and the happiest he had been in years. He reached his arm over and clicked off the alarm clock.

She didn't know about the other life he used to have. He had made up a bullshit story about his father being a traveling salesman. She couldn't know the truth about what went bump in the night. Sam planned on telling her eventually, but not anytime soon.

He gently played with her hair as he spoke, "Come on. . . We can get back in bed after we finish the lecture."

She frowned, rolling over so that she was laying on top of him. Their chests were pressed together, their faces mere inches apart. Usually at this point she would give up. The two would get up and begin their day. Today though, she refused.

"Please?" She asked, pressing gentle kisses to his chest and collarbone. She heard Sam's breath catch in his throat. The sound brought a smile to her face. She had him right where she wanted him.

Sam groaned, and she knew the second he looked at her that he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. He let his eyes flutter shut, giving up completely. He didn't have the will power to tell her to get up. Missing one day wouldn't hurt.

"So, we can stay in bed?" She asked, stating st his face, waiting. She had stopped pressing kisses to his chest and collarbone. She wanted to enjoy her victory.

Sam groaned, "Yes, we can stay in bed. You win," Sam said, even if his words were said slightly annoyed, she could see right through it. Sam wanted to stay in bed just as much as she did right now.

Y/n smiled, she was about to make another remark whenever Sam flipped the two of them over. Now it was Y/n on her back with Sam hovering on top of her. She saw the look in his eyes and smiled, they would be staying in bed for a while.

Sam quickly pressed his lips to hers. He kissed her like a man starved. She moaned into the kiss as Sam's hands began wandering. Their lips moved against each other, only pulling away for a brief second so the two could breath. This was going to be the perfect morning.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please comment and/or reblog to show your support! Also, my requests are open!

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Shang Tsung x Reader: A Chance To Prove Yourself

~~~~~~~~~~~~ The leaves all swooshed on the tree they were bound to in reaction to the wind. The same tree you sat under, sulking as you usually did. A decent distance away from the Wu Shi Academy you used to be devoted. Now it made you sick in a way. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself, you pointed blame at the Thunder God that shut you down.

You remember all too well the secondhand embarrassment and devastation when Raiden bluntly turned you down from joining Earthrealm's champions. Right in front of your best friends, Kung Lao and Liu Kang. The demigod claimed you weren't skillful enough and your ego would get you killed in battle. Yet somehow Lao still gets to go?! The equally arrogant bastard was also confused on that part.

"Maybe Lord Raiden just wants to protect you." You recalled Liu Kang reasoning for his father figure. Bullshit. You may have started late but you train just as hard.

Ever since that situation happened, you became distant with those two. You didn't hold any resent for them, hopefully, but being around them after that made you feel negative. They're good friends and you didn't want to bring the mood down.

Dreading on about everything you were unaware of someone creeping up behind the tree.

"...And she sits alone, wondering if she will ever be good enough. Or perhaps wallowing in self-pity, believing all of them are wrong and don't deserve her strength."

You turned to whoever it was narrating you with a supercilious tone. Opening your mouth with the intent to tell them to shut the hell up, only a gasp would come out when that specific voice belonged to Shang Tsung. You knew Liu defeated him before, but it was definitely not so simple You hopped up ready for a fight with the old, evil coot.

He raises a steady hand as if he isn't looking for a fight. "Oh, so 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 going to defeat me? Do you think you'll win?" Shang asks with continuing patronization.

"No." You lost your battle stance and stood there normally, feeling stupid to even think that. Your ego couldn't be more destroyed so it's easy to be put in your place.

"Good girl. Smart." Shang chuckles and slowly walks to you. You only kept your head down. Carefully with his clawed finger guard, he tilts your chin up. "Poor Y/n. You have so much potential. Truly a loss for Earthrealm that Raiden doesn't let you fight beside him- or your close allies."

"What would you know?" You sneered, eyes following him as he walked behind but you didn't dare move your head even slightly.

"Quite a lot, actually. From the very moment he put you down, up to your friends deserting you."

"Deserting me?" Confused, you faced him and immediately corrected him. "Liu and Lao never deserted me. I just... hang out with them less. Purposely."

The old villain narrowed his maroon eyes at your rebuttal. "And have they ever asked you why? Check on you like they're supposed to? Have they ever even stood up to the foolish demigod and defended your progress?"

Being completely gagged, you couldn't defend that. The answer to those questions were all the same. "...No."

"You call them friends?" Shang shakes his head. "How does that make you feel? Don't you want to prove yourself? Show off truly what you're capable of?"

"Of course, I do!" You snap- not out of anger- but with newfound motivation. "But I train a lot every day. What more can I do?"

He pretends to think on it, you hardly notice. "I could offer my own mentoring to you, if you wish. Help you be advanced than whatever cheap combat monks do." Plotting with his back turned from you, his eyes gleamed at an extra part of the offer. Something you'd likely be interested in. "Say, do you have your own arcana?"

"I don't actually. Why?" As expected, you became more interested. You couldn't shoot fireballs or teleport annoyingly around the perimeter. But what you could do is deny the snake's offer and be a boring rejected fighter. Nope. "Could you get me one?"

"Easily." He nods, then extends his hand. "Is it a deal?"

Almost taking his hand, you retracted a bit. "Wait, what would you be getting out of it? I don't want to be accused of treason or you make me hurt them. They're not perfect but-"

"Oh dear, I would never make you hurt them. I'm trying to help you do the opposite actually. How lovely it would be to make them proud by being just as- pardon me- more powerful than them combine! And you wouldn't get in trouble unless you go chatting which I trust you wouldn't."

It all seems easy and promising. "Deal!" You smile and shook his hand, suddenly getting the feel of something awful overwhelm you. But you pushed it off thinking it was just excitement.

"Now why don't we return to my palace and discuss giving you magic." Shang begins walking away and you were quick to follow your new mentor.

"How long will that take? Won't Liu Kang or Kung Lao notice I'm missing?"

"You think so?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~

[ravynfyre]

So here's my uneducated opinion on the tik tok thing: It's going to be back in no time at all.

Let's look at this... The ban, which hadn't even officially gone into effect yet, wasn't going to be enforced until after noon on Monday. And yet... someone started rolling out pulling the plug even before the zero hour.

Why?

I'll tell you why. It's to make That Fucking Guy look like some fucking "savior" when he swoops in next week and "saves" tik tok, even though he was the one who had a hand in starting the whole shut-down bullshit. ESPECIALLY with all that crap on all the shut down accounts about "We are fortunate that (he) has indicated that he will work with us on a solution to reinstate TikTok once he takes office. Please stay tuned!"

It's a set-up. It's so obviously scripted, I hurt my eyes rolling them. It might have originally been a serious power grab by the MAGAts, but after seeing the backlash and seeing how the people they need to win over to maintain control rely on it so much... yeah, easy way to buy future votes and goodwill: save the platform the "kids" love.

So don't completely give up hope or lose your shit, kids. Maybe not next week. Maybe not this month, but I guaranfuckingtee you that within the first 30 days of his term, that fucking guy will swoop in like some demented orangevenging angel and "save" your platform.

just... keep your eyes open and your heads on a swivel, because it's just a ploy, and it always has been. don't let him trick you into thinking he gives a shit about you or your wants or dreams. it's just the circus he's putting on to distract from the fact that the bread is mostly sawdust.

[sadistic-kiss]

Use Me (Kinktober Fic)

Succubus Reader x Various JJK Men

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter Nine.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

"Fuck yeah!"

"I went easy on you." Choso snorted as his friend dressed in a banana costume stood up in victory.

"Sounds to me like EEEEXCUSES- YOU'RE BAD!" His friends joked and teased.

Choso only rolled his eyes as he passed the controller to someone else, "Whatever enjoy this win for now."

"Ooo someone sounds salty."

The young man tuned out the friendly bantering going on, his eyes looked down at you. Your head was still resting on his knee and you had been rather quiet. Barely moving or even making a peep. You didn't even try to tickle his brain. He lost because he kept looking at you. In a way, it was your fault his win streak was thwarted. He couldn't help but feel bad seeing you like this.

They could be quite mean to you but you were a masochist, you didn't care what they did as long as you were rewarded. He had never seen your feelings ACTUALLY get hurt. You would pout and throw a fit but you would always get your get backs in the end.

Of course, they were upset over the people you killed but none of them really wanted you to go. Let's be real they have been protecting you for a while. The higher-ups wanted to lock you up after the first mission you completed and even more so over the accidental deaths. They said if one more person were to fall victim to you, then you would be taken care of. Anyone that would stand in the way would be dealt with.

He knew that was all bullshit because they said that after the first person you killed.

You are their pet and they become fond of your presence. At least that's how he feels. He doesn't mind you, and deep down he might have been excited when he saw you at the door. He could have never left you outside.

"Pet." Choso rubbed your cheek gently.

You looked at him with a soft gaze. At first, he thought maybe you were putting on the greatest act of all time but he could see there wasn't a hint of mischief in your eyes.

"Come up here." He hit his ash Ketchum friend, making him scoot over for you.

You did as you were told climbing on the couch to sit beside him. He wrapped his arm around your waist, squishing you close.

You were content with looking down into your lap, it would appear you were still lost in thought.

He trailed his nose along your jaw while caressing you with his thumb. When you didn't react he moved his lips to your ear, "What's wrong?" His rough voice rumbled in your ear.

You gave him a little shrug, fiddling with your gloved fingers.

"Are you hungry?"

You hesitated for a moment as if you weren't sure what the answer to that was, but in the end, you gave him another shrug.

Choso furrowed his brows, your attitude confusing him further, "Do you want me to feed you?"

You blinked up at him, eyes searching for something within his own. "You-"

"COME ONNNNN!"

"SIIIIIIT DOWN BITCH!"

Choso growled in annoyance as his friends screamed at each other. You had went quiet, not able to speak through their shouting match.

He tried to call to them- "Hey!"

"THAT WAS BULLSHIT!"

"WAH WAH WAH KEEP CRYING!"

"HEY!" Choso snapped at them to get their attention. When they finally settled a bit he pointed at the door, "Get out!"

"Wait-"

"Come on bro-"

"We just got hype-"

"No that's not why I'm sending you out, I gotta talk to my girl." Choso gave you a little squeeze for emphasis.

"Oh~ yeah 'taaaalk." Ash put up air quotations while the others followed with the teasing.

"Sure sure-"

"Have fun talking."

Choso glared at his friends as they left out of his room while giggling like teenage boys. Do they never grow up? Once the door shut he turned attention back to you.

"H-"

"Did you know you could revoke my invitation?" You said suddenly. "You could send me out... and you didn't need to invite me in...I can't get in if you don't give me permission."

Your words caught him off guard, "Yeah? I'm aware why do you say that?"

"I wouldn't bother any of you if you sent me away. I can find somewhere else to feed."

"No!"

You were surprised by the sudden outcry, blinking toward him as he rubbed his neck slightly embarrassedly.

"I..." Choso shook his head confused, "...Where the hell is all of this coming from?"

"I'm a succubus. I'm eating your energy and leaving you with just enough to survive. Why do you allow me to do such a thing? I don't benefit you in any way."

"Why do people drink? Why do people smoke? Why do people eat things that they know are bad for them?"

"Because...humans are stupid."

Choso let out a low chuckle, "Yeah, we can be...but it's worth it. We enjoy having you here too, even if that means giving you all our curse energy."

You seemed to think about it, but he wasn't sure if he had convinced you.

"Look..." He dug out his phone, opening it up so he could show you the group chat with all of them in it named 'da boyz'. Handing you his phone you began to scroll through their conversation.

Blue Balls: Where is our pet it's been like a month!!!

Dollar Tree Itachi: I'm starting to worry should we put up a missing person poster?

Four Eyes: She doesn't show up in pictures.

Dollar Tree Itachi: I know i was a joke i just miss our pet :(

Deadbeat: how do you think i feel? There's not a woman who can handle me

Blue balls: You act like we have sex with other people i save my cum for my dumpster

Goodie Two Shoes: I hope she's ok! I just wish there was a way to contact her, I just want to make sure she's alright.

Me: this is why i said we should clean out the junk room so she can stay here

Deadbeat: we should, yu get on it

Goodie Two Shoes: ill start cleaning it out as soon as i get home!

Spawn of satan: *Image sent: it was the same dog bed downstairs* i already got her bed you think she'd love it?

Four Eyes: I don't think it would be a good idea to have her stay with us.

You were reading the text message when you got to who you believed was Nanami. The whole time you were reading you couldn't believe that they were all worried about you and wanting to see you but then your heart was crushed by the disapproval from one blonde. You pointed the message out looking toward Choso.

"See?"

Choso snorted, "Keep reading."

Blue Balls: Nanami when are you going to get over Kasukabe's death? HE. chose to do something stupid that we all told him not to do.

Deadbeat: just like i choose to sleep with her he chose the same and aint nobody gonna stop me from diving into that pussy

Spawn of Satan: im sure he died with a smile on his face

Me: a great way to go

Four Eyes: Alright alright! If she has a room here then I think it would be better to have her choose what she wants inside it. We shouldn't treat her like a pet the whole time she's here.

Spawn of Satan: She likes being my pet

Goodie Two Shoes: We should let her decide!

Dollar Tree Itachi: Yes lets ask her the next time we see her

Blue Balls: i hope she shows up for my party next week

You let out a little laugh at Gojo's comment. When you had first arrived he acted so upset that you were here but here he was hoping you made an appearance. It would appear that they were all excited for you to be here but act otherwise. These humans were so silly. It also tickled something within you to know that they save all their sexual energy for you. You never asked them and you didn't care but you liked it.

"See?" Choso grinned, feeling good about cheering you up. "We haven't gotten the room completely set up but it's a work in progress. Also, don't tell the guys I told you, they wanted it to be a surprise...this is top-secret stuff."

Another cute laugh left your lips,"You guys want me to move in with you?"

Choso shrugged, reaching down to pick up his weed tray, "The question is do you want to move in with us?"

You watched the boy roll his blunt, when you didn't answer he looked up at you while licking the wrap to close it. "Hm?"

"Nanami...doesn't seem like he wants me here..."

"Just give him time, he's just worried you will kill Yu-"

"I won't!"

Your quick answer and the way you spoke made him realize that perhaps that's why you were in a bad mood. Nanami was the number one cockblocker especially when it came to Yu. "Did Nanami steal your food away?" Choso chuckled as he lit his blunt.

You didn't answer him, instead, you crossed your arms and leaned back with a pout.

To Choso he believed that Nanami did deny you food.

"Poor thing, no one's been feeding you huh?" He continued to speak between puffs as he smoked. You still opt for silence. He could only assume you have been having a tough night. Truly he couldn't believe everyone was being so hard on you. If they saw how you were acting right now he bet they'd give in and feed you. He sighed as he leaned upon his knees to get within your vision- since the floor was so interesting.

"Do you want me to feed you?"

You looked at him with a sort of gleam in your eyes, "Would you...?" you whispered so sweetly.

He flashed his teeth at you, "What's the magic word?"

You threw yourself on the ground before him, clasping your hands as you blinked up at him with begging eyes, "Pleeease~."

"Alright~." Choso mistook the gleam as a sign of your neediness but little did he know you were playing him right into your trap. "Let me finish this real quick..."

To be fair, this wasn't your plan- you truly were sad but now that you know there was something more playing behind the scenes and the guys may perhaps enjoy your presence even poo-poo head Nanami... well you felt a lot better. And oh so hungry again.

Being sad was exhausting.

Choso took one more big hit, cheeks sucking in as the cherry glowed brightly. His eyes never left you as he moved to stab the blunt out.

You inwardly snickered as you watched the smoke blow from his lips. It was a lot easier to toy with their minds when they were under the influence. They all know that. Choso wouldn't have smoked so much if he knew you were walking around with a rather full belly. You have already eaten so much~. The only two items left on the menu were him and Toji.

You tuned into your clones, able to see two different views. One of Toji and the other was Choso. You focused on Toji, watching what was happening and what had occurred. Gathering information from your impish versions of yourself.

Your clones were playing Keep Away with Toji. They had taken him for a run through the bounce house... and the bubble field... and in each situation, Toji had destroyed something... the giant bounce house was deflating due to him taking out his sword and stabbing it to death and the bubble machine was kicked into the sky, soaring over the trees.

You almost laughed out loud but you wanted to keep up your sad girl act. You knew once Toji found you, you were about to be fucked into oblivion. The thought of it made you salivate. An angry sexually frustrated Toji was just the desert you needed to end the night.

But you were getting ahead of yourself...You had a yummy meal right in front of you.

Named Choso.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter Ten.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Chef Note: Sorry for this way over due chapter. I wanted to finish this story by the new years but that didn't happen Q_Q...The holidays have been way too busy for my liking but I'm starting to get back to quiet normal life so Im praying i can finally finish this story. We only got three more chapters left! So I think i can get it done ASAP. Also because I write one chapter of House of Alphas a week I put that story first so I'm sorry this story is written if I'm up to date with that story. So i usually write for this story in my free time which i had none :D. Needless to say here's to the new years and i hope you guys have been having a happy holiday! 

My holiday has been great just exhausting and its hard to write dirty smut surrounded by family lol XD!

[marauders-bs]

MCD MCD MCD YOU WERE WARNED

the happy is really good though

just to let yall know this is set on hallows eve. its clear in my mind but eh. ali got it but theyre also like, the other half of my brain

Regulus grabs the sides of James's face, smiling just a little. "Shut the fuck up."

James grins, thinking he might know where this is going. Or he could get hexed.

Regulus surges up and kisses him. James doesn't really get a choice what his hands do; he kisses Regulus back as his hands wins up in the other boy's hair.

They break briefly, both smiling as they pull each other back in.

-

They're running now and it can't be earlier than midnight. It turns out that Regulus told Remus, so he's covering for them as they sprint hand in hand to the forest.

"Why are we like this?" Reg asks, his smile transforming his features and sweet Merlin, James really, really, likes him.

"We just are," James responds, and Regulus laughs and pulls him close.

-

"-Ooh, and I'm so pissed at Slughorn, Salazar he has one job and he can't even do it right!"

James laughs, running his fingers through Reg's hair. "Yeah?'

"'Can't put you in a fifth-year class, sorry boyo!' Ok, dick, just admit you hate me."

"If he hates you, I'll light the Potions storeroom on fire," James says, completely genuine. He'd do it.

"Thanks," Regulus says, and he looks up at James with his eyes soft and smiling, and James is so happy he could- he doesn't even know what.

-

Reg found the Room of Requirement.

"Oh, sweet Godric, Reg, we've been looking for this for years! You're just better than us," James says, looking around at the room.

"We already knew that, though," Regulus says, laughing when James nudges him playfully.

"You're my favorite," James says, pulling the other boy close.

"I know," Reg replies, turning a smug smile up to his boyfriend.

-

"Ooh, for the first time in my life I'm thankful I wan't born a boy," Reg says, bouncing into the Room. "Mother told me over the break that if I was a proper boy I'd have married Narcissa! It's bullshit, she and I are practically identical."

James isn't quite processing. He'll never get used to his boyfriend's - boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend James is going to do a flip - morning happiness. "Narcissa, like your cousin?"

"Yup," Reg answers, curling up into James's side. "It's the Black's longstanding tradition of marrying their cousins."

"That's not- whatever. And you are a proper boy, you know that, right?"

Regulus looks down, hiding his face.

"Reg, look at me," James says. He waits until his boyfriend - James is never, ever going to get over this fact - looks at him to continue. "You're just as much of a boy as I am. Probably more."

Regulus smiles, and James will always love it when that's directed at him. "Yeah."

-

The memories are flooding back. Why can't he have them longer? Why did Voldemort have to show up? Why couldn't Peter have just done his job?

Why can't he ever protect anyone?

Why are his final thoughts so sad?

[ginsengkitten]

༺ Beautiful Dangerous ༻

༺☆༻

Chapter Fifteen

Estranged

The stage door burst open and you poured out into the damp alleyway. The neon signs illuminating the wet asphalt, providing just enough light for you to flick your lighter repeatedly in a failed desperate attempt to light your cigarette. It took you longer than you would have liked to realize you weren’t alone in the alleyway. As if by design, you found yourself again staring at a shadowy figure in an alleyway, eyeing you down like a predator. His dark curls enthralled his dark, chiseled face. He turned his face up to confirm your suspicion-it was him.

“No.” You shake your head immediately turning to open the stage door, but slash beats you to the door, overpowering your attempt to open it and slams it shut as his arm encases you into him. He was larger and stockier now, more muscular and manly. You instantly pull away. “I guess you’re still not above running away huh” slash bites, his voice deeper and gravelly. “I have nothing to say to you.” You bite back immediately shutting his remark down. A tense burn was thickened in the damp night air. Both of your hearts racing with adrenaline as your chests both rose in anger. Your back is turned as he towers behind you, his large hand still holding the door shut.

“Seems like after a couple years you might think of something to say for once.” Slash growled. His labored breath from the brief struggle was hot on your neck. His sharp sweet musk filled your lungs and your knees weaken slightly. Words fail you. Rejecting the desire to drink him in completely, you remain unphased. You simply can’t believe this is happening right now.

Only the gentle rainfall onto the pavement filled the void. Slash reissued his anger with a fist to the door, you jolted in fear underneath him as the sound banged out on the metal door. A frustrated grunt escaping from his lips

“Y/N! What are you doing here?!” He barked out some sort of expression of concern and confusion and shock to see you, especially here. You had enough and ripped yourself away from his enclosure and stood away in the alley now facing him.

“WHY DOES IT MATTER SLASH?! HUH?! WHY DO YOU SUDDENLY GIVE A SHIT? WHAT DO YOU CARE?!” You broke your silence.

“BECAUSE IVE ALWAYS FUCKING CARED, Y/N!” He immediately replied.

The two of you wasted no time picking up a long awaited conversation. The conversation was clearly reminiscent of the past now.

“That’s bullshit - that’s bullshit and you know it!” You retort.

“I WAITED Y/N!” Slash took a pause and continued, you watched him.

“I WAITED AND YOU NEVER WROTE! YOU NEVER CALLED, YOU NEVER SAID ANYTHING!” He took a slight step forward pleading in anger, a tinge of sadness trailing in his voice.

You unintentionally roll your eyes and let out a loud scoff/laugh/cry. You glance upward at the sky in frustration. The level of disaster and frustration had you almost chuckling.

“They took me AWAY!” You laugh in total anger at this whole situation. Slash’s demeanor slows as he tries to understand what you mean. You notice his confusion and go on.

“God slash- they locked me UP! In that-that fucking asylum! I wrote- I wrote you every fucking day I could and THEY never sent them.” You ramble and flail your arm.

And then you turn to face him again. “And you know what slash-?” Your arms hit your sides limply defeated. “it didn’t even fucking MATTER in the end because as soon as I got out you were already moved on! Okay?! I saw you on MTV, I saw you win all the stupid fucking awards, the girls, I saw it all slash!” You roar off this all as slash stood still and watched.

“I MOVED ON BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU DID! WHAT CHOICE DID I HAVE? I COULDN’T LIVE IN THAT ANY LONGER. If I felt it any longer it would have fucking killed me. Do you understand that? My fucking life depended on forgetting you. Living-…with the fact that I lost you seemingly so quickly, foxey.. I couldn’t…I-“

The nickname spilled out of his mouth like acid. Causing a slight pause between the two of you. You snapped. This was stupid. You had a job to do, he could return to his night of luxurious squalor. You start stepping backwards, wiping a tear off your cheek.

“Did it mean anything then?” You ask quietly.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

You shrug. “All of it- slash. Did any of it mean anything to you then?”

Slash took a step forward.

“ it meant fucking everything.” He emphasized. His voice choking ever so slightly.

You give slash a wholehearted smile through your tears, feeling silly. Still hurt, still angry. And now confused and terribly frustrated.

“Well, this has been great, just lovely-“ you laugh and sniff up tears. “but I don’t have time for this, I have to go. ” You continue to walk away.

He stands there looking at you in awe and defeat. Words failing him.

You round the corner, your heels clacking on the ground. You rest for a moment up against the opposite corner to catch yourself. The bright lights from the street shining down on you against the brick wall. You cup a hand over your mouth as additional tears etch their way out of you against your will. Everything you have fought to forget came spilling through you like tidal waves. The air swept from your lungs. And now that entire confrontation to top it off. What a nightmare you thought. An absolute fucking nightmare. Everything he said just then…..all of this- it had broken him too. By the emotion in his voice, it was clear he was earnest in his heartbreak. It was real- he really had been wounded just as you had.

Clara rounded the corner “there you are girl! Hey wassa matter doll? come on you know we gotta end tonight with a bang. Don’t let no stupid guys hold you down” She held you as you composed yourself. Her cheery demeanor always lifted you off your feet. She was right, you had clients to please and money to make, a roof to pay for. You had to earn your keep.

Clara pulled back and held your face in her hands“I got somethin that’ll cheer you up-“ she giggled like she had a secret and pulled out a small baggie of coke, shaking it playfully it in her fingers. You wiped your face and took a deep breath.

“Okay, let’s fucking do this.” You said sighed. You and Clara circle inside through the front door as to avoid returning to the alleyway. “By the way- did ya catch that total HUNK in the alleyway back thea? Gawd what I would do to climb that guy like a tree, didn’t catch his face but I’m sure it’s as good as his ass!” She remarked nonchalantly unaware of his identity or relation to you. I mean she was right. Time had been extremely kind to him. He grew into himself. His curls were somewhat darker and larger than life. His body fit and toned to the point that it was noticeable even through his clothing. His stature was taller and thickened with muscle. His strength was greater and so was his overall energy. Something undeniably cravable about him that pierced through the anger and pain associated with his presence. Memories infiltrating your mind. Had things gone differently back there, a small part of you wished to turn around and run back into his big muscular arms, to feel his large strong hands hold your body like a doll, his hot breath to caress your neck again….

*snap snap* “Helloooooo. Are you even listening to me?” Clara laughed. You returned to reality.

“Sorry right- what were you saying? God- sorry Clara I’m just off it tonight.” You admit still staring off. She takes no offense.

“Oh I was just sayin about that VIP client that booked you tonight. Pretty exciting stuff to have such a big name like that request you specifically like that- a last minute booking for you like that ain’t cheap, oughta put up some big cash to reserve you like that. Of course I suppose cash ain’t no worry for guys like that., bein famous n all.”

You queue back into the conversation.

“Famous?” You ask

“Yeah girl, ain’t you neva hearda Guns N’ Roses before?”

[randomthefox]

I've actually been looking forward to this one

So let's see it! Let's see Evan Stanley turn what SHOULD be a total one sided curbstomp win for The Chaotix and TAILS and AMY ROSE who SHOULD be able to COMPLETELY FUCKING DEMOLISH these clowns and nobodies into Clutch somehow pulling off a win. You KNOW that's what's gonna go down. You KNOW she HATES the Sonic cast so fucking badly that she's going to have them lose even though this should be the most noncontest in the entirety of the franchise history. Let's watch.

AND RIGHT OFF THE BAT we have Rough SOMEHOW getting over Vectors scream WHICH IS A FULL SCREEN CLEARING ATTACK THAT DESTROYS EVERY ENEMY IN THE ROOM IN SONIC HEROES

and just grapples his jaws shut. Also Stanley still doesn't know how to write Rough and Tumble.

fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off

OH! OH AND CLUTCH SHOOTS AT TAILS WITH A NORMAL FUCKING GUN! AND TAILS FLEES FROM IT! AND HIDES IN THE RAFTERS TO EVADE THE BULLETS!

INCREDIBLE!

AMAZING!

I'M NOT INFURIATED AT ALL BY MY BOY TAILS BEING ABSOLUTELY FUCKING DISRESPECTED BY THIS COMIC AT ALL!

And what the fuck is THIS bullshit why can't Vector just fucking slam his jaws around with the force he used to fling Espio and Charmy at giant stone walls to shatter them to pieces like he did in Sonic Heroes to shake Rough off?

What the fuck even happened here? Charmy rolls FORWARD underneath the gunshot, and then he's suddenly being held by Rough? What? That's so much off screen action that it's actually incomprehensible. And why would Charmy roll FORWARD instead of BACKWARDS *away* from the person shooting at him??? Charmy was taken hostage because Evan Stanley wrote Charmy being an idiot in a truly nonsensical bit of sequential art that is borderline visual gibberish. Awesome. Really living down to all my expectations for this fight scene.

"oh no"? OH NO?

FUCK OFF, WHO IS THIS AND WHERE IS AMY ROSE? YOU'RE AMY FUCKING ROSE, JUST CHARGE FORWARD AND SMASH ROUGH ON THE FUCKING HEAD, WHAT'S HE GONNA DO?

This is so fucking stupid, this is actually so much stupider than I expected it to be.

"Just don't hurt Charmy" gotta love the infantalization of a character that has helped fight Metal Overlord before. Gotta love the insinuation that Charmy is in ANY kind of danger right now. Hey, remember how I brought up before how it's weird that the comic never shows rings? Surely if this comic was canon to the video games, the characters should at least be paying lip service to the lack of rings they have on hand, to lend credence to the danger Charmy is in right? "Oh no, Charmy doesn't have any rings, so one snip of those crabmeat claws could spell game over!" No? Right, this comic is written by people who hate the video games, so lord knows we can't have anything like that included.

Again, what the fuck is even happening here? What was stopping Charmy from kicking his way out of the hold in the first place? What did Espio's thrown ninja star even do? Did the ninja star cause Rough to let go of Charmy? If so then why is he still kicking him? Did the ninja star just loosen his grip enough to allow Charmy to kick him? How would it have done that? Why was the ninja star even needed?

The sequential art for this fight scene is really bad. It's genuinely hard to even discern what the fuck is even supposed to be happening.

TAILS

DIDN'T

EVEN

FIGHT

TAILS DID NOT EVEN TAKE PART IN THE FIGHTING AT ALL

TAILS WAS ENTIRELY ON FLY BELLE TO THE CONTROL PANEL TO HACK OPEN THE DOOR DUTY! TAILS DIDN'T EVEN DO THE HACKING HIMSELF! IT WAS ALL BELLE! TAILS LITERALLY JUST FLEW BELLE TO THE COMPUTER!

TAILS ENTIRE ROLE IN THIS FIGHT SCENE WAS BEING A VEHICLE FOR BELLE! HE DID NOT FIGHT! HE RAN AWAY FROM THE FIGHTING! HE DIDN'T EVEN DO THE HACKING TO OPEN THE DOOR HE JUST CARRIED BELLE OVER TO IT! BECAUSE GOD KNOWS THIS COMIC OC IS SOOOOOOO MUCH BETTER AT USING COMPUTERS THAN FUCKING MILES PROWER WOULD BE

Wow that was somehow even worse than I was expecting it to be. Good job comic. I fucking hate you.

[antiradqueer]

Hey tumblr.

It's Luna, or more, someone of us who has no clue who they are right now. We feel like the embodiment of being sick and tired and just so done.

We have been thinking long and hard about what to write in this post or if we even want to make a post like this, but now that we're typing out these words, we don't know why we put it off so long.

We are permanently fucking off from the radqueer discourse. We can't take it anymore and we don't care anymore. We've lost all empathy and sympathy for everyone and everything involved in this shitshow, no matter which side they're on. The reason for this is not that we suddenly are neutral, we are still anti-radqueer, but we are so burned out and just start to dissociate the second we open the tags or see a radqueer post in the wild. We're naturally low empathy to begin with, but now every last ounce of that is completely gone when it comes to this topic, plus we just... don't care anymore. There's the 100th transnazi popping up? I don't care. Another "cisabuser" in the tags? doesn't matter. whatever. We're not a bad person, we are just done. We can't keep on doing this or this will eventually throw us into depression again and that might literally kill us. and I'm not going to let that happen.

when I think about radqueers, I feel so much anger, frustration and sadness - or more, that's what I felt. now all of that is just drowned by a dark cloud of tiredness and nothingness.

so, this is our goodbye. Knowing us, we will probably still roam the tags sometimes and depending who is fronting, some of us might even interact with discourse still, but like, officially, we are gone. (@ mod mew: if you could let us still have access to this account that would be dope af tho!)

I will also use this post to to encourage every anti-radqueer who's fighting tooth and nail to get blogs taken down and people banned, to step back for a minute, take a deep breath and think about if you really want to keep on doing this. we thought this would never take a mental toll on us, yet here we are. I'm not saying what you're doing is wrong, but I'm saying that maybe you could use your energy and will to fight for something else.

let's face it, radqueers will never be an actual threat to society. they are pathetic, sad people, hiding behind their screens, screaming "the future is radqueer!" over and over, but in reality this "movement" will burn to the ground eventually and they will go down with it.

do people get hurt in radqueer spaces? yes, they do and that's horrible (just a note as to how bad it's gotten with us: I write this and logically know that yes, it IS horrible - but I feel absolutely nothing. In all honesty, I currently don't care if people get hurt or not, because I can't care. it's like our brain shut off all emotions regarding this topic to protect ourselves). and I'm not saying you should stop offering them help, but I think you can stop worrying about the radqueers taking over society or whatever. if you feel this taking a toll on your mental health, please put yourself first. protecting your health and your life is always, ALWAYS more important that fighting strangers on the internet.

okay, in case you don't think of us as a total asshole with a heart of stone now and are interested in our plurality- and alterhumanity-focused tumblr life, here's out brand new system blog: @the-exodus-fleet And also our hosts blog: @talks-with-the-void

Take care of yourselves and thanks for every kind word and all the support we've got along the way /gen

PS: if any radqueer reads this and wants to celebrate this as a win or whatever, go ahead. if you need this to feel some joy in your sad, miserable little life, I'm not stopping you.

PPS: I still genuiely hope all radqueers eventually come to their sense and leave this bullshit ideology behind

PPPS: and to all radqueers who hide behind this label to abuse and groom other, I hope you lose all your friends and your family over this. you deserve no happiness.

[thebetawolfgirl]

Bonding Time

Pairing:Timmy x Reader

Warnings: Smut. There’s a teeny tiny bit of toxicity between the two.

A/N: If you don’t like complete smut Smut smut then this series won’t be your cup of coco!

Bonding Time

Y/n stood on the sideline as she watched her mother saying her vows with her new man. She wondered how long this marriage would last. Don’t get her wrong, Greg was a very nice guy and he was head over heels in love with her mother and treated her like a Queen, the problem wasn’t Greg it was her mother. She changed her mind like y/n changed her jewellery, she was actually surprised when both of them announced they were getting married. The only upside of this whole thing was Greg’s son, Timothée, they didn’t like each other at first in fact they hated each other. They constantly riled each other up to the point she would turn and throw something, anything at him, an ashtray, a glass. They were always arguing and fighting, but each parent eventually ignored them saying they would get used to being around each other at some point.

But over the past few weeks something was different, they didn’t argue as much. In fact it was their parents who had began arguing more and more and they had been spending more time together usually in each other’s rooms so as not to have to listen to the fighting alone. One night something happened, during the wedding preparations both parents were arguing downstairs again and y/n was in her bed listening to the raised muffled voices when her door opened and Timothée came in shutting the door behind him. ‘Hey you okay?’

‘Yeah I’m fine, just bored of this bullshit.’ She sighed sitting up slightly.

‘The fuck are they arguing about this time?’

‘Apparently your dad invited someone called Kerry or Carrie?’

‘Terri? All this noise because of Terri?’ She nodded.

‘Who is she anyway?’

‘She’s the daughter of an old friend of my dad’s. He’s known her since she was a baby. She used to babysit me. Jesus Christ!’

Y/n sighed hearing a glass break downstairs. ‘Can you stay? I don’t want my mother crawling in beside me when she’s drunk and crying.’

Timmy looked at her before nodding in beside her and draping his arm lazily around her waist. The room was still in complete darkness so they couldn’t see each other very well but they could hear each other’s breathing.

‘I’m sorry for throwing that ashtray at you, I was just in one of my bad moods’

‘It’s fine, I deserved it. I shouldn’t have handled you like that.’

They looked at each other in the dark their eyes adjusting slowly.

‘Why did you act offended when Stacey asked you that truth?’

She could feel his breath on her face as he asked the question.

‘I don’t know. I think it’s because she asked the question, if anyone else asked it would’ve been a simple no.’

She felt him nod and heard his hum.

‘Why do you care?’

‘I don’t, I was just as pissed off as you when Stacey asked it.’

‘I think she wanted to know because she wants to fuck you. I mean you have been dating for 3 weeks why haven’t you slept with her yet?’

‘She’s not as soft as you are’ he mumbled in reply before he pulled her closer getting more comfortable around her and she sighed shuffling down against her bed to get comfortable with him and ended up tangled with him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. ‘True I am built more softly than Stacey whereas she’s all muscle and hard and… manish.’ She made a face and began playing with his hair ‘What the hell is she training for’

‘Maybe she’s training to kick your ass’ he mumbled against her chest sniggering

She glared at his head in the dark and moved her knee between his legs but before she could reach her target he grabbed her throat and pushed her head back into the pillow ‘Don’t even think about it little girl’

‘Ow, Timmy fuck off, fine you win.’

She grabbed his wrist and struggled against him before he let her go ‘Good. And I always win.’

He smirked and wrapped his around again and she did the same mumbling ‘Dick’

She felt his smirk grow wider and sat up slightly pulling him up by his hair and licked a trail from his chin to his top lip hearing the noise in the back of his throat and smirked hearing him grumble ‘Fuck you’re such a bitch y/n.’

She chuckled at him laying back again. They started playing this game of having the last word, only it had become more physical although this was the first time she had done that. He lay down again this time on top of her and rested his chin on her chest between her breasts.

‘It’s gone quiet, who do you think walked out first this time?’ He asked as she listened too ‘Hmm sounds like both of them. It’s too quiet if that makes sense?’ He nodded agreeing with her.

‘Let’s just stay here and enjoy this peace while it lasts.’

She looked at his shadow and nodded in agreement and ran her hands up his back and brought her knees up so he was resting between her legs and listened to him sigh contentedly and moved her fingers through his curls ‘You don’t let Stacey do this do you?’

He closed his eyes and made a negative noise ‘I don’t let Stacy lick me either, I also don’t lay on her like this.’

She listens to his breathing calmly and continues to rub his back under his shirt before he sits up and removes it laying back on top of her. ‘Better.’ She instantly moves to run her fingers over his back when he lifts her pyjama top up mumbling ‘More skin’

She nods and pulls it off tossing it aside letting him bury his face in her chest.

‘Fuck this foreplay, Timmy just fuck me.’

‘Thank fuck’ he rips the rest of their clothes off and rams into her without warning knocking the air out of her lungs, as he flips them pulling her on top to ride him. Once she gets her breath back she does exactly that and goes hard not holding back as he runs his hands up and down her torso grabbing parts of skin he can reach.

He sits up with her and kisses and bites her neck and shoulder wrapping his arm around her waist and digs his fingers into her ribs making her gasp and throwing her head back.

‘Ah Timmy.’ She grabs him by his neck with both hands and kisses him open mouth pushing backwards riding him into the mattress. He felt the whole bed frame move with them the headboard hitting the back wall, he hoped the house was empty because no one would mistake these noises downstairs. They broke the kiss and y/n buried her head against his neck and rode him harder panting as he gripped onto her skin damp with sweat and he rammed his hips upwards to meet hers feeling his eyes roll back into his head from the joint force and heard her squealing against his neck and felt her nails drag down his back as they came together as their orgasms exploded around them. They were both sticking together on their skin with perspiration panting against each other heavily.

Y/n lifted her head and he pushed her hair from her face and kissed her sloppily which she returned with tongue. They broke away still licking each other trying to catch their breathes before rolling her over and laying on her chest.

‘What now?’ He asked as she played with his hair again.

‘Let’s call this our bonding time.’

He chuckled and moved his head up trailing his tongue and teeth up her chest and neck before reaching her mouth ‘We should have more bonding time.’ She smirked against his mouth before breaking away licking up his lips again. ‘We will.’

@sufferingstarlight

@gatoenlaciudad

@kteezy997

@lixzey

@tchalamss

[xdreamfilledquotesx]

QUOTE COLLECTION - tfc-tkm (light/ humor edition)

"You could at least try." - "I could, couldn't I? Maybe next time!"

"I'm not a math problem." - "But I'll still solve you."

Neil was much better at instigating fights than winning them, but it'd be worth losing if he could just put a fist through Kevin's face once.

"A liar who practices occasional honesty. Clever. Keeps people guessing. Very effective. I would know. I do it myself."

"The death threats were creative, though. Maybe this time they'll follow through and actually kill one of us. Let's vote. I nominate Seth."

"I'm fine," Neil lied.

"I will ask you only once to tone down that animosity." - "I can't. I have a bit of an attitude problem."

How's that target on your back feel?" - "Familiar."

"Where are you going?" - "I'm leaving. Didn't I say I'll see you tomorrow? Maybe I mumbled."

Allison could have stopped it, but she casually sidestepped like it wasn't worth her time. Andrew reacted with the same calm arrogance and just watched as the ball missed his goal by a scant inch.

"Neil is a walking tragedy." - "You're a pretty pathetic sob story yourself."

"It'll be easier if he remains heterosexual."

"Can we go back to the part where I said not to argue? I remember it pretty clearly considering it happened just five seconds ago."

"Hey, Neil. Honesty looks awful on you."

"I'm remembering why I don't like you." - "I'm surprised you forgot in the first place."

"If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. That goes for both teams." - "Is that why your new child is being so quiet?" Riko gestured at Neil. "He doesn't have anything 'nice' to say?"

"You know, I get it. Being raised as a superstar must be really, really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you're worth a damn off the court—yeah, sounds rough. Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time. I know it's not entirely your fault that you are mentally unbalanced and infected with these delusions of grandeur, and I know you're physically incapable of holding a decent conversation with anyone like every other normal human being can, but I don't think any of us should have to put up with this much of your bullshit. Pity only gets you so many concessions, and you used yours up about six insults ago. So please, please, just shut the fuck up and leave us alone."

"I said please, Dan. I tried to be nice."

Neil was already in his coffin. He might as well nail it shut. "Yeah, I understand you're a complete asshole."

"His findings sent both my mother and her then-lover to prison on assorted charges. They were beaten to death by angry members of the gang I helped put away." - "I'm sorry," Neil said, when in reality he was a little jealous. Both she and Wymack lost their parents to prison violence, but no one dared attack his father. It would solve a world of problems for Neil if a few inmates could just work up enough aggression and courage.

"I am not a lost cause." - "Liar. But that's what makes you interesting. It's also what makes you dangerous. I should know better by now. Maybe I'm not as smart as I thought I was. Should I be disappointed or amused?"

"Do girls need kid-glove treatment? I thought they were tougher than that." - "Most of us are. Some of us are like boys, though, and have delicate egos."

"What happened?" - "Neil hit Riko. It was beautiful." - "What? Not fair! I missed it! Go do it again!"

"Is your learning curve a horizontal line?"

"Just promise me this isn't going to be a problem." - "What?" - "I can't tell if you're being obtuse to fuck with me or if you're really that dumb. I would pity you, but Andrew's right. I don't get paid enough to get involved in this. Figure it out yourself."

"You hate me, remember?" - "Every inch of you. That doesn't mean I wouldn't blow you."

"Give me one good reason to not push you off the side." - "I'd drag you with me. It's a long way down." - "I hate you."

"I warned you not to put a leash on me." - "I didn't. You put that leash on yourself when you told me to stay no matter what. Don't be mad at me just because I was smart enough to pick up the other end of it."

"They'll be fine." - "That's not exactly reassuring. From you 'fine' could mean anything from 'I'm going to hitchhike across the state' to 'I'm beaten to a bloody pulp but I can still hold a racquet'."

"I'm really interested to know how this went from an us-and-them feud to an all-out war. Popular opinion is it's your fault."

"You don't want me to be right," Neil guessed, "because if I am it's your fault she's dead." Andrew finally joined the argument. "No. It is always going to be her fault." "She didn't kill herself, Andrew," Aaron said, savage with grief. Andrew flicked him a cool look. "I told her what would happen if she raised her hand again. She had no right to look so surprised." "Oh, Jesus," Matt said. "Did you just—?"

"Don't look at me like that. I am not your answer, and you sure as fuck aren't mine."

"Did you have any plans to do anything? Besides the obvious, I mean." Neil wasn't sure if Matt meant Exy or Andrew.

"Did you know I've never been skiing? I'd like to try it one day, though."

"Getting answers out of these two is like trying to get a stone to bleed."

"I'd ask you how it feels, but I guess you've always known what it's like to be second, you worthless piece of shit."

"Survival tip: no one likes a smart mouth." - "Except you."

[interruptingmooshroom]

It’s 1 AM and I’m sick as fuck with the worst flu I could have gotten ever but Imma make a post I’ll prob delete later

This sort of stuff bothers me, and to be clear, VOTING SHOULD BE MANDATORY. Worse case, nothing happens. Best case, it matters enough to change life for the common people. So yes, vote, it’s cool and based and it’s accessible even if you can’t for some reason leave home.

That being said

Critics of Kamala Harris/the Democratic Party are not inherently saying that you shouldn’t vote for them. The reason people vote against them in polls within the party is to apply pressure to political figures so they figure out “Hey people really don’t like the whole genocide thing” and might listen to the people like they’re supposed to.

The Democratic Party has recognized for awhile they can get away with a lot of bullshit simply by being the lesser evil. When the Republican Party was, for example, talking about shutting down the border and dealing with “illegal aliens”, the Democratic Party has decided to copy this stance since it seemed popular to a certain voter base. This is a low risk situation because no matter what, they recognize they’ll get a majority of the vote out of being the lesser evil.

As a consequence, the Republican Party has since decided “Actually, let’s just do mass deportation” which if you don’t know, would be having people in concentration camps (not to be confused with death camps) and removing them from families and established lives. So yeah, much worse. A lot of this messaging also includes “legal aliens”, because they’re totally mad about immigrants and not racist at all.

This is a perfect example of the ratchet effect. People smarter than me have explained this better, go look at the wiki, but in summary it’s when the Democratic Party doesn’t go back from a farther right standing as the Republicans slowly become more and more insane. Since they don’t actually do anything 99% of the time and rely heavily on being a lesser evil, they naturally follow a political sphere that has suddenly nudged a bit more to the right. Ideally they could change this, and move us back to something normal and sane. They do not do this, because taking action is not how the democrats win votes for a lot of people. They win them by allowing the republicans to be insane, so their empty promises and still-harsh policies look appeasing.

Critics of the Democratic Party and Kamala Harris are completely expected and should be encouraged. Shutting down this conversation by saying it “Discourages voting” or “So what? I cant vote for the other guy” IS EXACTLY THE FUCKING POINT. You can vote for them while trying to actually hold them accountable and be louder about your complaints on shit like “Supporting Genocide and the apartheid state of Israel is wrong” or “Immigrants are people just like us and should be treated as such” or whatever the fuck.

You can still vote, while holding people accountable. You miss the point when you either

A) Decide “my vote doesn’t matter”, which is already incorrect for a number of reasons Im not diving into at 1am

B) Shut down critics of the Democratic Party because you think they’re discouraging people from voting.

When you see something dissing the democrats, don’t think it’s to make it seem like there is no hope. It’s to actually try and hold political figures accountable for what they do, something that Americans forgot was the main point of a representative.

Ramble over if you actually read all that here’s a cookie. 🍪

sorry for resorting to a meme about this but people are making me mad 👍

[herehavesomeheadcanons]

Hihi! I saw you were taking requests and so I was wondering if I could have Poe or Sigma fluff (and maybe angst if you're up for it, you don't have to!) hcs? Like where you are sick or smth and they take care of you? And possibly how they make you feel better? Can I also be 🍥 anon if you're okay with it?

Whew, back to writing requests. Sorry for the long wait, but my brain shut down after I finally finished that Christmas event. I'll try to get on with the requests still waiting in my inbox!

Anyway, fluff is absolutely my specialty, and these two dorks are the perfect characters to take care of a sick s/o! I had the idea floating around in my brain, so I added an accidental confession for Poe as well <3

Edgar Allen Poe and Sigma taking care of a sick reader~

As usual, snatched the images off Pinterest

Poe

🤎🦝 Poor Poe freaked out when he heard you were sick. He immediately rushed over to your house and insisted on taking care of you! It doesn't matter how many times you try to push him away and tell him he'll get sick too, he's determined to take care of you!

🤎🦝 The reason for this is that Ranpo gave him the idea. Poe wanted to know how he could win your affections, and Ranpo suggested that he should go and see if you needed care, since you called in sick that morning.

🤎🦝 So now you're being forced to lay on the couch while Poe spoon-feeds you soup that he made himself. I don't see why you would complain, except if you're one of those Akutagawa kinnies that won't admit you're sick until you're dead.

🤎🦝 Poe insists on doing everything for you. To be fair, he is a pretty big help, considering it feels like someone fucked with the Earth's gravity settings and turned them all the way up. Oh, and you're delirious with fever, so no amount of willpower is going to make you able to do chores.

🤎🦝 As you feared, Poe gets sick too. Somehow, he still managed to drag himself to your place, so now you're both lying inert on different couches with a bad flu. You have some absolutely hilarious conversations while you're both completely out of it with fever hallucinations. Unfortunately, you probably won't remember them.

🤎🦝 After a few days of this bullshit, you're starting to feel better. Poe isn't, but your head is starting to clear. One night, you wake up to him rambling on and on about something to Karl. As you listen, you realize he's talking about you.

🤎🦝 "Oh Karl... What am I to do?" *Karl noises* "Yes I suppose you're right... You're so wise, Karl!" *More Karl noises*

🤎🦝 If he didn't talk to Karl like this all the time, you'd probably suspect that the fever had addled his brain to the point of no return. You decide to speak up and see what this nonsense is all about.

🤎🦝 "Hey, Poe, what are you going on about?" "Y/N! You're awake?" "Obviously. Now what are you asking Karl about?" "Oh, I was just trying to figure out what to do about my feelings for you." "...your what?"

🤎🦝 It takes a moment for Poe to realize what he just said. Once he does, he hides under the the blanket for ages. He refuses to come back out and speak to you for the rest of the day. He won't even eat! He's going to need lots of reassurance after such an embarrassing mishap!

Sigma

🤍🎰 Sigma doesn't really have a lot of time on his hands, being the manager of the casino and all. So, when he hears that you're sick, he has an existential crisis. Should he take care of you? Stay? What if he gets sick too? Can the casino run smoothly without him?

🤍🎰 Seeing how worried he is, some of the people working directly under him (I couldn't think of a good word, ok? Leave me alone-) convince him to go look after you. They can handle running the casino in his absence.

🤍🎰 Let's get one thing straight: Sigma is a fabulous caretaker. He just has the instinct for it, I guess. You'll be perfectly fine under his care. He gets you any medicine you need, cooks for you, does chores, and anything else you need. He has absurd multitasking skills, and will keep everything neat and orderly to ensure your speedy recovery.

🤍🎰 He is an absolute sucker for you, so you could probably get away with a lot while sick. You want him to read to you? On it. You want him to sing you to sleep? He'll try his best. He won't do anything that could get him sick, though, so no physical contact. Sorry, but he can't afford to get sick too.

🤍🎰 He is rigorous about keeping your stress to a minimum. He sets limits on who can visit you, how often they can visit, and for how long. He's like your nurse or something. You know Madam Pomfrey from the Harry Potter series? Yeah he's like that.