#so feel free to hit me up if you are so inclined))

[vigorouslycoy]

i love saying young man and young lady and ma'am when i'm scolding people. it's like bruh but way cuntier

[thevalicemultiverse]

Ask Game Idea: The Valice Multiverse On The Valice Multiverse

AKA, ask me what what any one of my universes on here thinks of any of the others! Here's a link to my Google Doc with the full write-up of each universe, with a tl;dr version below:

-->Forgotten Vows: The crossover you probably all know me for, where Victor ends up sent to the Houndsditch Home for Wayward Youth after the events of Corpse Bride and ends up meeting and befriending Alice in time to live through the events of Alice: Madness Returns with her

-->Secundus: The mega steampunk Mad Scientist crossover, where Victor is accidentally kidnapped to the titular city by Doc and Marty testing out the flying steam train, and ends up staying and becoming involved with Alice and all the other weird and wonderful characters there

-->Catch Us If You Can: A dark AU ending to the Forgotten Vows Verse where a brainwashed Victor ended up in Rutledge after Alice had to leave him at the train station where she killed Bumby to flee a witness to her crime, and after he regains his memories and Alice breaks him out, the pair end up on the streets of London killing scumbags like Bumby

-->Cuddlepile: Standard Modern AU setting, with everyone at least NOMINALLY in college -- the idea is that this is a world in which Victor, Alice, Victoria, Emily, Christopher White, Richard Hatter, Smiler Alton, Preston Garvey, and Piper Wright are all together in a big polycule, though in practice I've been focusing on the Valicer subgroup lately

-->Inevitable High School AU: The other Standard Modern AU setting, this puts Victor and Alice (and, more recently, Smiler) in a high school run by fucking Cave Johnson, so there's less learning going on and more shenanigans

-->Aperture Wage Slave: A Portal crossover AU where Victor is a lepidopterist and Alice a test subject in Aperture Science during the time when Cave Johnson is alive and still running things. Neither of them are particularly happy with their current situation, with this particular Victor being the most sarcastic and depressed of the lot

-->Londerland Bloodlines: The Vampire: the Masquerade -- Bloodlines AU, where Alice takes the place of the Malkavian fledgling during the events of the game, while Victor takes the place of Heather and ends up her ghoul and a major emotional support while she handles all the nonsense that comes with being the Fledgling (depending on the time period, Victoria, Emily, Lizzie, and Bonejangles are also around -- the former because she ALSO moved to LA to escape her parents, the latter three thanks to Giovanni nonsense)

-->Fallout Of Darkness: The Fallout 4/VTMB AU which sees Victor thrust into the role of the Sole Survivor of Vault 111, putting his Army engineer training to the test against post-apocalyptic Boston...and Alice returning in her "Malkavian Fledgling" guise as his companion because that's what my brain wanted (he's rigged up a sleeping bag for her to travel in during daylight hours)

-->Technicolor Phase: A polyamorous soulmate AU based on the idea of people important to you giving you different colors throughout your life, featuring Victor, Victoria, and Emily getting into a throuple during the events of Corpse Bride, and then meeting Alice afterward and bringing her into the polycule post Alice: Madness Returns

-->Valicer In The Dark: A crossover with the TTRPG Blades In The Dark, where Victor, Alice, and Smiler are all citizens of Duskwall -- a haunted Victorian-esque city that runs off "electroplasm" in a world where a cataclysm 850 years ago snuffed out the sun and made it so no one could pass on to the afterlife. After being accused of the murder of a Spirit Warden (a very important position in Duskwall), the trio ended up turning to crime, and now operate as the crew The Three Pillars in the derelict district of Six Towers

...okay, maybe all that was a bit tl;dr in itself, but still. XD Feel free to ask me what the citizens of any one of those universes would think of any of the others!

[stepbrorafe]

Movie Night - RC

summary : a sleepover w stepbro rafe takes a turn

warnings : swearing, stepcest, somnophilia(dubcon?), fingering, oral, idk idk

a/n : my first lil fic type deal on this acc :) feel free to send in reqs or comment opinions or just talk to me <3

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

“What?” Rafe’s deep voice called out from the other side of the door.

You slowly twist the knob, pushing the door open, eyes instantly meeting his bare back as he leaned over his bed.

“I said ‘what’, I didn’t say come-“ He starts, cutting himself off as he turns to you.

You sheepishly smile, “Sorry, I was just wondering if you wanted to maybe have a movie night?”

His eyebrows furrowed together, confusion plastering itself across his face. Your smile slightly falters as he doesn’t respond for a moment.

“Where’s Sarah and Wheezie?” He questions, as they’re who you usually hang out with.

“Wheezie’s sleeping, Sarah’s where she always sneaks off to anymore.” You mumble, “Just figured maybe me and you could have a sleepover or something. It’s okay though.”

He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t want to have a movie night with you. He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t want even more than that. He absolutely loves whenever you’re around, yet he hates it at the same time.

He can’t help but drink in the way you move, the way you speak, the way you seem so innocent yet so naughty. In all honesty, his believing you have a naughty side is purely delusional. You’ve done nothing of the sort to incline you’re anything but innocent. Maybe that’s what it is though. Maybe he just wants to prove that you can be a slut. A slut for him.

Just as you’re turning around to leave, his voice stops you, “What are we watching?”

Your lips twist up in a smile, one that he has to purse his lips from mirroring. You close the door, sauntering over to his bed in your short little bottoms and thin tank top.

“We can watch whatever.” You say, crawling into his bed.

His eyes bore into the way you make yourself comfortable on his blankets, your smooth legs crossing along his bed. He swallows the accumulating saliva, flicking the light off and joining you.

He grabs the remote from his nightstand, passing it to you to choose a movie, stating, “Anything but a chick flick.”

The giggle falls from your lips so effortlessly, causing him to clear his throat and avert his eyes from you.

The night progresses with several movies before you find yourself sound asleep beside Rafe. He isn’t so lucky as sleep refuses to wash over him.

Instead, he’s left staring at you while you snooze. Your cheeks are slightly squished, causing your lips to form into a pout. Your long lashes rest on your cheeks, casting shadows along your skin. Your hair falls into your face, and he can’t help but brush it behind your ear, letting his fingers linger momentarily.

His eyes lower, taking in the way your cleavage is on show as your tank top is bunched below your tits. Your collarbones so prominent, the soft moonlight, shining through from the window, hitting them with a cool glow.

His gaze continues down your body, boring into the skin of your stomach showing as your shirt rides up. It also reveals the waistband of your small shorts. The shorts that barely cover the curve of your ass. In fact, he can see it clear as day. His eyes rake down the rest of you, soaking in the way your plump thighs damn near swallow your bottoms. Your smooth legs resting atop of one another, begging to be spread.

He can’t help the growing of his cock, now straining against his boxers, aching to be released. He lets out a breath, his eyes closing as he revels in the dirty fantasies he’s having.

He so badly wants to pull your legs apart and kiss you through the fabric of your shorts. He wants to squeeze your tits as he buries himself in you, swallowing all the pretty little sounds you make.

He lets out a hiss as his hand rests on his covered cock, adding just the slightest bit of pressure, seeking relief.

Before he can stop himself, he’s scooting closer to you. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back into him. He has to hold back a groan as your ass presses into his bulge.

Completely oblivious the state he’s in, you push back ever further, enjoying the cuddles from your stepbrother.

His hand slides down to your exposed stomach, rubbing small patterns into the skin, taking notice in the way goosebumps form beneath his touch. He can’t help but smirk at that.

You let out a soft hum, still in a deep unconscious state. His hand slowly trails higher, traveling up your torso. His hand halts when he feels your boob. You’re not wearing a bra.

He almost groans at the thought, convincing himself that you did it on purpose. That you want him to touch you. And so he does.

His hand fully engulfs your bare tit, squeezing it so firmly. You stir in your sleep, rolling onto your back. His eyes glimmer at the access you’re unknowingly giving him.

He pinches your hard nipple before removing his hand, and sliding it to the waistband of your shorts. Without hassle, his fingers poke into your bottoms, trailing further down. He tosses his head back at the notion of you not wearing any panties either. You’re practically begging to be fucked.

Taking in your sleeping figure, he lets his fingers go lower, sliding over your bare lips, groaning when he feels your arousal seeping through.

“I knew you were a slut.” He mumbles into your shoulder.

His fingers prod at your slit, pushing your lips open as he rubs you up and down. You let out a small, almost inaudible, moan from the feeling.

Rafe licks his lips, slowly circling your clit with two fingers. He can feel your body slightly tremble against him. Without a second thought, his fingers slide down to your entrance, pushing into you.

The action makes your body jump, instantly pulling you from your dreamy state. Your eyes flutter a few times, taking in what’s happening. Your heart rate picks up and your eyes widen, acknowledging the fact that your stepbrother has his fingers slowly pumping in and out of you.

“Rafe!” You gasp, attempting to push his hand away.

“Shh, you’re okay.” He whispers into your ear, his opposite hand holding you in place.

“W-what are you doing?” You panic, your body tensing as he continues to fuck his digits into you.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He quips, curling his fingers into your spongy walls.

It pulls a moan from you, one that you try to hide away as your cheeks burn bright with embarrassment.

You shake your head, “Stop. This is wrong, you’re my brother.”

“Stepbrother.” He corrects through gritted teeth.

His pace speeds up, the squelching sound filling in the room. Your brows knit together as you bite back your moans, the feeling being all too pleasurable.

“Do you really want me to stop?” He breathes against you. “Just tell me to stop and I will.”

Your mind races with a million thoughts a second, yet you feel blank at the same time. There’s no denying how good you feel right now, and how attracted you’ve felt towards Rafe. You always swallowed those feelings down, knowing it’s not right. But right here, right now, you don’t seem to care about anything else other than the feeling of his fingers working you.

“No, no.” You moan, your back arching. “Please don’t stop.”

He smirks, “That’s my girl.”

Next thing you know, he’s in between your legs, tongue lapping at your wetness as his fingers thrust in and out of you. Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging at the strands as you buck your hips into his face while soft moans fall from your lips. You can practically feel his smirk as he pulls you closer.

“Taste so good, sound so pretty.” He coos, sucking up your juices. “Always knew you’d be a mess for me.”

You whine at his words, feeling your orgasm sneaking up on you. It doesn’t take long. His lips puckering around your clit and sucking harshly brings you over the edge. The guilt you have for letting him touch you dissipates as euphoria floods your veins. Your body convulses, legs shaking as you let go. He moans against your pussy, devouring everything you have to give him.

You’re left panting, coming down from the delicious high he gave you. He sits up, licking your remaining arousal from his lips. Scooting back up next to you, he pulls you into him once more, burying his face in your hair.

“What are you doing?” You whisper, still breathless.

“Thought you wanted to have a sleepover.” He mumbles, leaving you in a state of shock at what just took place.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

tags : @sunkissedrafe @wickedtactics @bunnycvnts @butterflyoceandreams

[hwanchaesong]

Of glasses and performances

a/n: writing this realquick for my pookie @yzzyhee really just a drabble buT IT'S THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS. kind of inspired by this post lmao ✌🏼💀 also hee looks so fucking good in specs tffff literally writing this before i sleep so yeah, pls ignore any mistakes

warnings & genre: idolbf!hee, afab!reader, smut smut smut, public sex, p in v raw etc etc lmao minors dni!!! not proofread ‼️(hee fucking u into oblivion backstage after seeing u in the crowd at his group's concert)

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

You saw it. You fucking saw it.

Fighting for the front stage section of their concert is one thing. Obtaining the sexiest outfit to wear is the second thing. But seeing your oh so charming boyfriend up on the platform, performing his heart out and suddenly making eye-contact with him is just... doing things to you.

The blinding lights are not a hindrance for you to truly witness how majestic Lee Heeseung is.

Him in that black outfit, styled hair and that glasses is so fucking flawless. Then you watch him squat near the edge of the stage, his hazel orbs scanning the crowd and he makes eye-contact with you.

Time seemed to have stopped when you noticed a certain glint in his eyes, dark irises scanning your figure and you saw how he tried to hide his smirk, masking it as an expression befitting of their performance.

But you know that once you're hidden from the public, chaos will ensue.

And your instincts are always right.

Once the concert was over, you headed backstage but you were blocked by Heeseung, no words were needed as he dragged you near an empty hallway, making sure that no one is around before he does what he wants.

Pinning your wrists above your head with only one hand, he leans down and lets his breath fan all over your face as his other free hand settles itself on your hips, dangerously creeping inside your scanty dress, "Didn't think you'd wear an outfit that exposes too much skin, baby."

You examine his poorly wiped face, still sweaty probably because he hurried his way out to meet you in the middle instead of making himself more presentable, keen on keeping you alone for himself.

No worries though, he's attractive and gorgeous just the same. The messiness of his appearance just adds to the tingling that you're currently feeling.

"Well," you inclined your head to match the level of his lips, "can't blame me for wanting to look pretty for my very hardworking boyfriend."

That was the end of your short conversation with him, which you believe is the foreplay as you have now found yourself in a rather mind and body bending situation in public.

Hoisted and back flattened against the cemented, cold wall and your lovely dress is bunched up your waist. Panties ripped off and is now currently stashed in your boyfriend's pocket, which you assume he'll use in the future to relieve some frustrations when he's not with you.

Your moans reverberate across the abandoned hallway, music in Heeseung's ears as it triggers him to do more.

Faster, harder, and harsher.

The loud squelching of where the two of you are connected should have been embarrassing for you, but no fucks are given since Heeseung is already giving you all the fucking that you desire.

His thrusts are wild, relentless and undoubtedly, heavenly. The sole reason for each plunge is to send you into utopia.

You can feel his thick cock dragging on your insides, striking your cervix every time he goes in deep, the pulsating vein on the side of his length scratches your drench walls quite wonderfully, causing you to get wetter, probably creating a huge disarray down there.

One particular languid stroke had your back arching on the wall, legs wrapping securely around Heeseung's hips as he hit a delicate, spongy spot inside you.

Jackpot, he thinks, as your insides cling tighter to him like you do at the moment.

A string of curses left him when your nails rake at his nape, gently playing with his hair, eliciting a groan from him as the sensation is feathery yet sensual, a weakness of him that only you can bring out.

"Fuck baby," he rasps, concentrating at the sounds that you're making while he continuously rams into you, "you feel so fucking good. All for me yeah?"

You mewled his name desperately, the knot in your lower belly is getting ready to be snapped, "Yes Hee. I'm yours, all yours f-fuck, you own all of me."

Ah, the things you do to him. If you tried sitting in his brain then you'd be shocked by the images and thoughts that are filled with you, you, and you.

Some are fluffy but most are nasty though you are sure to love it. Of course you will, you're down bad for him just as he is for you.

He wasn't giving you any time to catch your breath as he wasted no time in kissing you, searing and hot, shoving his tongue down your throat that you couldn't help but to submit to him without much of a fight.

His tongue clashes with yours before exploring your mouth, the rhythm of the make-out session matches his pace perfectly, only detaching from you when the need for oxygen arises, leaving you gasping and flushed when a string of saliva

His bruising grip on your thighs loosened a bit as he used his left hand to slide the top of your dress, revealing your tits to him. He watches it bounce along with his thrusts for a solid minute before leaning down to capture a nipple.

Tongue flatting and hardening around your bud, circling and sucking while teasing a bit of nibbles, further adding onto the pleasure that you're receiving.

"A-ah! Heeseung, I-I'm-!" closing your eyes in rapture, tilting your head to the side to give access to your lover when he scoots his face in the crook of your neck, embellishing you with purple and blue spots.

"Close?" he whispers, licking the newly painted marks in his canvas called your skin. His peppery smooches snakes up, reaching your ears as he delicately bites your lobe, "Come for me then, baby. Don't hold back."

You moan loudly, one more. One more push and you're gone.

His palm traces the goosebumps on your thigh, and there it is, his deft fingers playing with your clit is all it took for you to gush all over him. A satisfied smirk on his kissable lips shows itself, then it turns into a sly one when he didn't slow down despite your pleading.

Begging him to take it easier since your high took a toll on your sensitivity, thus the overwhelming rapture that had you shaking in his arms.

He laughs menacingly at your futile requests, giving you a sham apology sealed with a kiss. He then murmurs against your lips, "Didn't you tell me that you're mine?"

You nod your head weakly, and that might be a mistake but at the end of this night, you'll realize that mistakes are options that you just haven't chosen. And not all mistakes are bad.

"Then take what I give you, baby. I haven't cum yet, square up until I'm done with you."

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Putting in a request for a Hannigram x fem reader??? I was thinking along the lines of already established relationships, and while out together, some man/women hits on the reader, and then we get jealous Hannigram 🥰🫠

I mean jealous Hannibal is a given. He dosent like people touching what's his, but he keeps his composure. But Will... oh, Will I think would ne not subtle at allll. Defo some angst but also some hints of smut and fluff

Suddenly meats on the menu that night 💀

~ 🔮

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A hot and cold sensation jolted through you as you were startled by your heel suddenly breaking. You stumbled, but an arm caught and steadied you.

"Woah there, that was close," the man who had caught you said. "Are you okay?"

You looked up at him, his kind, nondescript face greeting you with a smile. You smiled back sheepishly, feeling your face heat. It was mortifying enough that your heel had given out, leaving you limping for the rest of the night, but it would've been worse to fall flat on your face in public.

"Thank you so much," you said, relieved even as your heart still raced with adrenaline. "I'm sorry for almost slamming into you."

"Nonsense, I'm glad I caught you," he said, his eyes wandering a little to further take you in. "Can I help you to your seat?"

"Um, if it's not too much trouble, I wouldn't want to impose..."

He chuckled, offering you his arm. "It would be my pleasure to help a beautiful woman such as yourself."

You waved this off and smiled demurely, both accepting the compliment and remaining politely reserved. You didn't want to encourage him, but it was a kindness that you were grateful for.

Your free hand took hold of the railing as you went up the steps toward the balcony seats of the opera house. You led him down the hall, murmuring the seat numbers as you searched for yours.

"Did you come here by yourself?" He asked.

"Oh no, I'm with company. I just needed to use the restroom and insisted they go ahead." you made sure your ring was visible then, so there would be no confusion. "It's in here."

The two of you pivoted, walking into the balcony. Will glanced over his shoulder as he heard you, and he immediately stood up. The sudden movement made Hannibal look back as well, but he remained composed.

"My shoe's broken," you explained, bashfully showing the heel you were holding. You turned to the man who had helped you, inclining your head gratefully. "Thank you so much again. You spared me the humiliation."

He smiled once again, though it was more strained as he was all too aware of the two men nearby. "My pleasure. Impossible to ignore a lovely lady in distress, am I right?"

The question had been directed at Will, who was staring him down, every muscle in his body tense. You noticed his fingers twitching.

"Yes, that's right," he said through gritted teeth. "We've got it from here, though. Thanks."

The man bid you all good night and quickly left, wanting to escape the tense atmosphere. Will reached out a hand for you to help you to your seat.

"See? I told you, I should have stayed and waited for you," he said as you sat down. "I don't like strangers touching you."

"It's not like we knew that would happen. He was just being nice," you said with a shrug, trying to get him with you.

Will grunted and stayed put, still not happy. "By the look on his face when he saw us, I'm not convinced his intentions were totally pure."

You raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Hannibal. "A little help?"

"I'm afraid I have to agree with him on this one," he said, adjusting in his seat so his body faced you.

You glanced at both of them in turn. A part of you was thrilled at their jealousy -- your body knew well what the consequences of this could be -- but at the same time, you just wanted to have a nice night out with them.

"But I'm here now, in one piece, and I'm all yours," you reassured, taking Hannibal's hand and extending your free one towards Will once again. "The show's gonna start soon, come on Will, please sit."

He bowed down to kiss your knuckles, looking at you through his lashes. There was a dark promise in his eyes that made heat pool in your belly. "I will in time, my love, but first, covetous hands must be dealt with."

----------

[hermetiqa]

When and where will you meet your twin flame?

Reminder: it doesn't matter if you saw this reading a day or a week or a month or a year after posting this. My readings are timeless. You'll see this when you're meant to see this and receive your message.

MDNI.

Close your eyes and take a deep breath before picking a pile. If you feel drawn to more than one pile, it's alright, you may take the piles that you're drawn to. What's important is to take it how it resonates and leave what doesn't.

PAID READINGS | TIP JAR | FEEDBACK | MASTERLIST

PLEASE HELP IF YOU CAN

NOTE: Please feel free to give me a feedback on my asks about the reading! I would highly appreciate it and it'll be a huge help for me to improve as a reader.

Pile 1

I feel like you'll meet your twin flame when you already let go of your karmic relationship. You might be in a karmic relationship right now and it's toxic but it's a healthy relationship in disguise. So it could be near. But if you're not, then you might go through a karmic relationship first before meeting your twin flame. It's like your partner is telling you that they'll change when in reality, they don't and won't. This relationship is causing you so much anxiety and sleepless nights, and right now, you don't know what to do. You're confused about which path to take, whether you should break up with them or not because you're seeing so much potential in this relationship. But in reality, you're just too focused on this relationship that you don't see other relationships that you have, which is why you don't realize it's actually toxic and they're not the one for you. You have to let this relationship go first before meeting your twin flame. You might meet your twin flame in your workplace or someplace formal or a café/place you can eat near your workplace where you're wearing a blouse, trousers, heels, and blouse. I'm seeing a white long sleeves blouse, light brown trousers, light brown blazer that matches the trousers, black heels/shoes, black thin belt, and black handbag. I'm getting strong feminine energy from you so you might be the divine feminine. When you meet, it'll be too fast and too intense. You might have some disagreements when it comes to your opinions on some things, simply because you want to challenge each other, especially on an intellectual level. You'll both be intellectually inclined and connected deeply and you'll both feel like you're the one for each other when you meet. You'll need some strength on this one because your insecurities and dark sides will come out and you'll have to face them eventually.

Pile 2

As I was about to do this reading for you, Pile 2, I accidentally said "need" instead of "meet" and then there it hits me. I feel like you'll meet your twin flame in times of need. This is when you have to take the risk in making decisions. You'll be in a situation where the whole situation depends on your decision. My phone just automatically switches to dark mode so you might meet them at night. I'm seeing a bar where you might be drinking a lot because you're really stressed and frustrated and don't know what to do. You can't make a decision. You can't think straight. Then your twin flame will suddenly just come up and approach you and ask you if you're okay because apparently, they've been noticing you for quite a while in that bar. I feel like you might or might not be into alcohol right now, but if you're not, the time will come that you'll be influenced by people to be into alcohol and you might need to drink on some occasions. I feel like your twin flame will lend you some ear so you can talk about what's bothering you, which I feel like it could be related to your family, and then you'll refuse. But eventually, you'll open up to your twin flame because their presence is comforting already. Your twin flame will give you some advice and words that you really need to hear. There's this sudden strike of curiosity when you meet. You'll be interested in each other so much that you don't want the night to end. You might end up coming home to either of your own place, and you might do something sexual there because the attraction will be so strong that you might not be able to control it. Then the rest is history.

Pile 3

I feel like you're going to meet your twin flame when you feel like your life is falling apart and you want to start over. You might be moving out to your new place and you'll encounter them in the streets, specifically in front of a university or a church. I'm seeing that you might be carrying a huge box that contains your stuff, especially the ones that you use for work or studies (if you're still studying, specifically at university, taking master's). It'll be a sunny day and this could be during summertime because I'm seeing so much sweat here and they're holding a huge cup of iced coffee. You'll catch their attention because you'll walk past by each other and their eyes will follow you walk past them. I feel like they'll have the courage to approach you, talk to you, and ask you if you need some help. I feel like they'll do this in a good timing too, they'll try to "empathize" with you, they'll do their best to feel what you're feeling at the moment before approaching you because they're scared that you might take it negatively and just turn them down. I feel like your twin flame could be a professor at a university and there's a significant age gap between you, at least 5-6 years. When you meet your twin flame, you might decline their offer to help because you're confident that you can do it on your own. So they'll walk away and accept your decision, but eventually they'll come back and act like they're just heading out to grab some food. Then they'll see you there. But in reality, this is actually their way of approaching you again because they've been overthinking about your encounter and they're bothered that you didn't get to know each other, and they're really interested in you. So they thought of pretending to grab some food and walked your way on purpose, when in fact, the food they'll be grabbing is on the other street. You might notice this and realize eventually that they're doing this for you. You just have the "feeling" that they are so you accepted their offer this time.

[satoruhour]

oh my god, i dont know if you write for this specifically (feel free to disregard if you don’t), but I’ve been thinking about satosugu x reader,,, imagine kissing the both of them!! spending a nice summer day with them!! just being able to enjoy spending time with the two of them!! I dont know if its my love for both of these characters and their relationship, but i just like thinking abt that dynamic,,,

a/n: wrote this yesterday to upload today since it was a loaded day today ❤️ enjoy. hope it’s up to standard cause i havent written fluff in a long time! / 1.3k, poly!satosugu x reader

sleep-ins were popular amongst the three of you. before you, suguru had his own routine of waking up early to brew some tea for himself, to get the laundry going . .

satoru, on his own, was a light sleeper, sitting straight up at any hint of sound due to his sorcerer duties but after moving in with geto, he’s been letting the long-haired man to do all the work.

and here came you, waltzing back into their lives (and apartment) after teaching at kyoto for just a few months until you couldn’t stand gakuganji and headed right back to your alma mater.

it wasn’t difficult to maintain the dynamic the three of you had from your school days, except maybe unspoken feelings and lingering glances until the two men were gassing each other up to ask you.

you’re not even sure how you even got roped in — old feelings, a crave for the younger days, the allure of satoru, the wonder of suguru — but now you’re stick in between both of them wanting to pee so badly.

alas, your body is trapped under gojo’s protective leg and geto’s gentler wrapped arm, but you still feel your bladder about to burst, trying one last time until your body is slammed back into bed.

“hm . . what’re you doing?” is gojo’s first raspy call out to you as he curls his calf around you even more, and you sigh, turning to him to brush his fringe from his face.

“i need to pee, satoru.”

“no.” and you roll your eyes because he’s always whiny like that and you’d usually employ suguru to do your bidding but he’s fast asleep, still. this was another thing: both you and gojo have inextricably fucked with his routine because now he’s more inclined to sleep in than drink his morning tea. he realised this one day when he was doing laundry, in the afternoon.

“’toru, pleeaasee?” you pout even if he can’t see and like a good boyfriend, he senses your features pulled into a face specifically meant to make him feel bad, and cracks his eyes open.

“oh, youuuu—” gojo scrunches up his eyes and squeezes, and then steals you from geto’s arm, trapping you with tight arms wound around your middle, “stop it with the eyes!”

you giggle, using your free hands to relax the tightness in his brows, using that opportunity to forcibly open his eyes and then you hit him again — knitted eyebrows and doe eyes, and a perfect pout that has gojo grumbling under his breath. silently, you wiggle yourself just enough to reach his face so you can place a peck on his lips and he hums.

another, his eyes say and you indulge him, sinking into his embrace and letting him guide you back to his mouth. morning breath is nothing to the both of you, grinning into the kiss when satoru loses himself and his embrace starts to loosen. the kiss still holds you captive, though, the other moaning softly when you deepen it with some tongue.

“you’re just going to leave me hangin’?” geto’s voice calls out from beside you, and gojo’s excited suguru! gives you just that sliver of time to slip away from the two as they catch up but—

“you’re not going anywhere, missus,” gojo pulls on your arm and you’re falling back into your space in the middle of the both of them, greeted with geto’s lovely laugh and his gentle gaze.

“good morning my loves,” he says, arm draped over the both of you before he leans down to give you a kiss while gojo replies with a good morning as well, also giving a peck to your temple. “what’s on the agenda today?”

“lazing in—”

“i need to pee, firstly,” you pipe up, cutting gojo off and patting his puffed out cheeks. grabbing his face, you wiggle his head just to emphasise your point, “your man here has been preventing me from going to the bathroom.”

“ahem! our man,” gojo corrects, sticking his tongue out just enough to lick your hand and you shriek in disgust while his giggles only fill the room.

“satoru, c’mon, let her go.” and again, the other only cuddles you closer to him, long, lanky limbs trapping your body. geto has a hand on yours like he’s trying his best to console you.

“but— she’s so much nicer to cuddle! did i ever tell you suguru once hit me in the face with his arm?”

and you laugh while the other only sighs and chaos erupts once he stands up and says in faux disappointment — “okay, i’m making breakfast for myself only. guess i lost two partners today.”

“hello?! i didn’t even do anything!” you shout in incredulity, words muffled once gojo slaps a hand over your mouth and laughs, watching through the bathroom mirror at how he chuckles at the both of you. you lick gojo’s hand and he moans obnoxiously.

geto did end up making the both of you some breakfast after some convincing (it was mostly gojo yelling “pleasepleaseplease” in the bathroom and interrupting brushing teeth time), but he’s got around it with a sloppy kiss given to the both of you, sat at the wooden table you commissioned — large enough to bring friends over but small enough for it to feel intimate with your two boyfriends.

“on the real agenda, we need to go for some grocery shopping,” geto suggests, reaching diagonally to you to wipe off the bits of strawberry lingering at the corner of your lips and gojo shouts a loud oh!, running from the table to grab his phone that he’s left on the bedside table. naturally, he has become so enamoured with the both of you that he doesn’t even need his phone to entertain him that much.

“i made the list like you asked, sugu,” and you’re giggling when you see his eyebrow raise, positive that on the list, there was more of what the house didn’t need than what it did.

silently, you’re helping to clear all three of your plates that had coatings of maple syrup on it, apart from gojo’s who licked his squeaky clean. a smile spreads across your face when you hear them bicker, a common occurrence.

“baby, there’s more candy than actual groceries on here.”

“but suguruuuu . .” gojo pulls this all the time and it hardly works on geto any more, so the both of them invade your cleaning escapades to argue. like the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other, satoru sucks up to your boyfriend, suguru appeals to you.

“should we listen to him?” leaning against the counter, geto rests his arm around your torso, sidling right up to your face who only gives him a small grin.

gojo follows suit. “sweetness, don’t listen to him. you know you love the sweets i buy, i’ll even buy you your favourite brand!”

here in this kitchen in the house that gojo had no problem expanding to accommodate the both of you were all that you know in this mess of a world, destined to exorcise curses for as long as you live, but it wasn’t so bad when you had the strongest duo beside you, talking over each other on whether meiji chocolate was more important than buying celery for tonight’s dinner. 

“boys.” turning off the tap, you shake off the water and turn around in their arms only to see what had escalated: geto ready to summon a curse, gojo crossing his fingers in his muryōkūsho pose, all the while keeping an arm around you like everything’s fine. and as chaotic dating the both of them were, you don’t mind putting both their hands down and calming the situation down.

with a laugh, you give one kiss to both cheeks. “let’s just buy both, okay?”

and satoru leaps to hug you, planting endless kisses on your face while suguru sighs, then smiles, defeated. “plus, we can just make ’toru pay for everything, can’t we?”

“and then make him cook tonight.” you suggest, not-so-quietly.

gojo stops, “hey!”

i didnt write the grocery shopping part since i alr rambled off about it here but maybe next time we’ll see :)

[nichoswag]

Hey Rei! I've been thinking for a while if I should send a prompt request or not, but here we go. 😂 (Hope you'll like it lol)

So my idea is #15 "Please stop flirting with me, my parents are right there." with a fake dating trope. And the idol who first came to my mind was Heeseung, I feel like he would match this well! You're free to decide the atmosphere of the story, I, personally was just feeling funny haha. I hope you'll have fun with this request! <33

flirt . lee heeseung

prompt: "please stop flirting with me, my parents are right there."

pairing: fake bf!heeseung x gn reader

warnings: fake dating au, lots of flirting, kissing, teasing, like one light innuendo

song rec: into it - chase atlantic (warning: song is extremely sexual)

a/n: hii marine! admittedly i did push this to the top of my list because i feel a bit more inclined to complete reqs from my moots ♡ sorry it took so long, but i did have a lot of fun with this request!! i hope you enjoy :))

if someone were to ask you how you got in this situation, you honesly couldn't say you have a clue.

walking into your childhood friend's parents' house hand-in-hand with him, you're still questioning how you got here.

well, to put it simply, you and heeseung grew up together. you even went to college together, and now you're back home together. but, you're now actually together.

at least, that's what you've told both of your parents, after constant nagging and pleading from both ends for you both to date someone. so, your solution was to pretend you're both dating each other.

now, you're shaking due to the nerve of the roles you're both about to play.

heeseung squeezes your shaking hand that's placed in his, sending you a reassuring smile. "hey, it's fine. we're only doing this to get them off our backs."

your heart flutters at his smile and the kind action.

mrs lee opens the door for the both of you. "____! it's so nice to see you," she exclaims, pulling you into a hug.

"moooom," heeseung whines. "what about me?"

she chuckles. "oh, hush. i haven't seen ____ in years."

as she welcomes the two of you into her house, you realize how natural this feels after all. besides, you and mrs lee have always been close, as your moms are best friends, so she's like a second mom to you anyway.

heeseung leads you through the wide hall into the large dining room. sending you a wink, he pulls back your chair for you. you send him a weird look as you sit down, but he ignores it and pushes your chair in, taking a seat next to you.

diagonal from where you and heeseung sit, your fathers are arguing about who's lawnmower does the better job. you chuckle at their pettiness as your mother chastises your dad for picking a fight over such a stupid thing. things haven't changed at all.

you're immersed in a conversation with heeseung until someone takes a seat across from you. it's heedo, your fake boyfriend's older brother.

and your childhood crush.

there's a girl sitting next to him, and they're holding hands, just as you and heeseung were a few minutes ago.

heeseung seems to notice your curiosity, because he leans closer to speak into your ear. "that's yeri, heedo's girlfriend." he takes your hand again and squeezes it. "are you okay? we can leave if you're uncomfortable," he offers, knowing about your long-term crush on his brother.

you shake your head. "i'm alright. just surprised."

he nods, understanding. "are you over him? i mean, you've dated since you last saw him."

"i think so, actually." you smile, nostalgia hitting you suddenly. "he was my childhood crush, so i guess it's just weird for me. it's not like i haven't seen him with a girl before."

you remember the time you saw him making out with a girl at a party him and heeseung had thrown in high school while yours and their parents were on a trip. you'd then gotten drunk on wine to the point of throwing up, and heeseung had held your hair back half the night at your house while you threw up.

then, when he brought his first girlfriend for dinner with his parents. heeseung had invited you over, not knowing he was there with his girlfriend, and you'd spent the evening crying in his room while he held you.

heeseung grins at you, seemingly remembering those nights too. you feel eternally grateful to have someone like him in your life.

he presses a kiss to your temple, seemingly trying to keep up the act. "you hungry, cutie?"

you nod shyly, blushing as he ruffles your hair. "starved."

within a few moments, heedo and heeseung get up to help their mother bring plates of food from the kitchen and set them in the middle of the large dining table.

yeri stares at you across the table. you feel self-conscious as she eyes you up and down, as if she's analyzing how big of a threat you are to her.

heeseung catches a glance at her eyeing you as he sits down, sighing as he realizes what's going on. he glares back at her, and she just smiles innocently, fixing a napkin on her lap. she glares at you as she kisses heedo on the cheek.

"what's her problem?" heeseung whispers in your ear.

you shrug. "i have no clue. I've literally just been sitting here."

he rolls his eyes. "i hope she doesn't cause a scene."

dinner does end up going without a hitch. besides a few more glares from yeri when heedo asks about your experiences in university and settling into your new job, you feel at ease. even when yours and heeseung's parents ask how you two began dating, you're able to answer the questions just as the two of you practiced earlier.

you notice heeseung looking at you with an expression you don't recognize throughout dinner. almost like admiration, except his eyes are fiery. you just think he's playing the role of your loving boyfriend.

mrs lee brings out a tray of sweets. "anyone hungry for dessert?" she practically sings.

heeseung grins and leans close. "mine's already here." he places a hand on your knee.

you choke on your own spit, and he pats your back. "please stop flirting with me, my parents are right there," you whisper-yell into his ear as everyone stares at you both.

your hear giggles, and you realize everyone must have heard what you said.

your mother smiles sweetly at the both of you. "don't worry, we're not judging you. the two of you are adorable."

you blush furiously, and heeseung ruffles your hair again.

yeri huffs from across the table, and you realize she must be jealous of the attention you two are receiving as a couple, not insecure of her relationship. she busies herself with fixing heedo's collar aggressively.

he grabs her hands as the attention turns to them. "what is your problem? you've been like this all evening. can't you just act normal?"

heeseung stifles a laugh from beside you and you nudge him with your elbow. "what's funny?"

he leans over to whisper in your ear for the third time tonight. "just that they're seemingly an actual couple and they get along worse than us."

you giggle, and yeri turns to glare furiously at you. "what the fuck is funny, you callous bitch?"

there are gasps all along the table, and heeseung nearly stands up defensively before you grab his arm to pull him down.

"don't think i haven't noticed you flaunting you perfect boyfriend all night." she laughs mockingly. "you're like a three. how did you manage to pull that guy?"

"get out." heedo glares at his probably soon-to-be-ex girlfriend, motioning towards the hall that leads to the front door.

"what?" her tough front cracks as she wears a scared face. "heedo-"

"i said. get. out." he gets up, pulling her up with him and marching toward the hallway.

you can hear the yelling and screaming still. "i've told you before, she's like a fucking SISTER to me! who are you to talk to my family like that?" "SHE WAS TAUNTING ME WITH HER PERFECT GUY-"

eventually, the screaming is muffled as it seemingly continues outside.

mrs lee gains her composure and proceeds with setting out the dessert. "kids these days are so dramatic. minus my ____, of course. you're an angel."

you smile at her. "thanks, mrs lee."

her smile falters. "honey, why don't you just call me 'mom?' i'll be your mother-in-law eventually, anyway."

you nearly choke again, and heeseung stifles a laugh. "just go with it," he mouths.

you smile again. "sure, mom. thank you for the dessert."

dinner wraps up rather quickly after the dramatic scene. heedo returns at the very end, looking very disheveled as you and heeseung make your way up the long spirals stairs to his room, where you'll both be staying the night.

heeseung lets out a long laugh after he closes the door to his childhood bedroom, nearly slumping against it. "that was a train wreck. heedo has terrible taste in girls."

you giggle. "he should've just chosen me when he had the chance."

heeseung's smile fades. "no, i rather like having you to myself."

your feel a twinge of pain in your heart at the way his smile drops. "hee, i was just kidding. i told you, i'm over him. i think i like someone else now, anyway."

the smile that began to creep onto his face at the first part of your speech drops again as he hears the last part. "oh." his shoulders slump, face looking dejected.

you catch his face in your hands as he turns away from you. "hee, do you really not realize who i'm talking about?"

his eyes widen in realization. "you mean..."

"yes, i mean i like you, lee heeseung." you grin at him.

before you realize it, he's taking you into his arms and picking you off the ground and you're spinning through the air. you both giggle as you come back onto the ground.

now flustered, you look away from him "so..."

"i like you too, ____. i thought that was pretty obvious." he ruffles your hair yet again, pulling you close by your waist.

you giggle. "it kinda was."

he looks at you for a moment, gentle gaze flickering between your eyes and lips. "can i kiss you?"

you nod, and he leans down to connect your lips gently. you wrap your arms around his neck, one hand resting on the nape of his neck, and the other tangling in his hair.

he pulls away and you lean your head against his chest, breathless.

"fuck, i think i might be in love with you." the words leave your mouth before you can even think about what you're saying.

he smirks down at you as you meet his eyes, yours wide. "yeah? what makes you think that?"

you inhale sharply. "you've been there for me through everything since we were kids. my heart hurts when you're sad, i feel angry when you're angry, and i'm happy when you are. also, i always find myself missing you when you're not around. i think that's love."

he smiles, eyes shining brightly. "if that's the case, i love you too."

minutes later, you're settled in a pair of heeseung's clothes, waiting on his bed for him to come back from the bathroom.

as he enters the room, your heart races. you've spent nights together as friends, no biggie. but now, it's the real deal.

he sprawls out on the bed beside you and turns to look at you. "cuddle?" he asks, opening his arms. you practically dive into them as they wrap around your body tightly.

you realize you feel safe here. that to you, there's never been any place safer than in his arms.

©nichoswag | do not copy my work or repost onto any other platform.

[wroteclassicaly]

A/N: Uh… I might do a part two to this? But it randomly came to me and I wanna try something different.

Warnings: Language, hurt, angst, unrequited/one sided feelings, sadness, anxiety, mentions panic, body issues, and mentions self-esteem problems.

You’re hunched over the counter, skin taunt over your knuckles, bones sharp enough to shred through. A hot, sticky wetness resides in your lungs, the pain of its steam burning in your throat, settling over your lungs. You cannot see through the haze of blurred vision, half-assed attempts to wipe copious amounts of moisture going nowhere. Only when a heavier set of footfalls fall outside of the door and it’s yanked open — you finally cease some panic. Your manager, in all his greasy glory, clings to the doorframe, looking into the storage closet to make sure that you’re alone.

Obviously, because who would go in here with me? Steve never fucking will. He’s probably had other girls in here…

Keith is speaking, sounding like his voice is somewhere above the surface of murky waters. But you make it out. “Hey, uh. I heard what happened with Harrington back there. Let me take you out, show you how a real man can treat a lady?”

If Keith wasn’t so disgusting towards the female population, you’d feel bad for him, but to sink yourself as low as to only get an offer from him? And right after HE saw you get rejected by your best-friend?

Nip it in the butt before it continues. You have to work here, after all…

“No, thanks, Keith. But I appreciate it.” You force a smile so fake that it burns the corners of your mouth.

He snorts, shaking his head. “Fine, but know that if Harrington side stepped you, you shouldn’t be so stingy with standards.” The comment stings, pricks your heart, tearing it apart to bleed out. “I’ll be in my office if you change your mind, sweets.”

One nasty wink later, and he’s back in his office and you’re out the door. This is all too much. You have to go. It’s break time, you thank fuck for, glancing at the clock, but you can barely think, your head pulsating with a pressing pound between your eyes. You punch out for lunch, gathering your purse, and you’re coming out as Robin is talking rapidly to Steve, seemingly scolding him at the front desk.

She’s come in for her shift. They stop immediately, features softening, too observant for your liking. You do what you do best — change the subject. Steve isn’t going to care anyways, so you might as well say it. It’ll help you get outside quicker.

“I have a fucking headache, I’m hungry, and Keith just hit on me, so I’m taking my break.” You blow out a wobbly breath.

It’s also Steve’s break, and he starts to remove his vest. Is he serious? You are so beyond outer limits right now… Granted, you take your breaks together every single day, but after everything that just happened in the past hour?

Steve’s jaw clenches and his body tenses at what you tell them, pausing his removal mid-way, inclining his head to look back in the manager’s office direction. Robin looks mad, tongue clicking as she looks over at Steve and shakes her head. You let them go, about halfway to the door before the bell rings and the beautiful girl that Steve’s been after forever to get a date with — approaches. She’s looking extra special, all dolled up. Sundress, heels, makeup, bracelets, a dainty necklace on her perfect shape.

It’s things you know Steve loves, because it’s also what you’re wearing. It made you feel good, but it was out of your element, yet you’d thought his hints, his behavior with you — Robin and Nancy had encouraged that those things were MAJOR signs. The girl goes straight for Steve, reaching for his massive hand. You’re frozen, having been waiting on him, despite all of your instincts telling you not to. Robin is looking at you with sympathy, something you’d rather never see directed your way again.

The girl, she’s acting as if it’s just her and Steve here. “I know you said this is your lunch hour. Looks I’m free if you still wanna hang out?” She swings her purse in her free hand. He’s been after her for a while — for sex or emotional connection, you aren’t sure. But what you do know, is that doesn’t want you at all.

And you can’t fault him, no one can. As his friends, you should worry about his happiness and dry yourself up, not making him feel guilty for not returning what you have felt for a while. That doesn’t mean that this isn’t pulverizing your heart, dusting your bones to ash, dashing all hopes and future fantasies, telling yourself he did like you, letting yourself believe — it does not hurt any less. It hurts more than you can bear. You feel his mossy eyes filter into your direction, meeting over her head, his nose wrinkling, that tick in his jaw that occurs when he wants so badly to speak, but can’t.

You’re caught in the moments that happened before any of this… Body on fire, doused in flames, tumbling down a cliff side of revelations. You weren’t even sure if reality existed, or if you were feeling too much of every emotion to comprehend anything.

“I really like you, Steve. And I think that, maybe, you like me too?”

“I do.”

“Yeah?”

“More than anyone, probably.”

“Me too.”

“But I don’t… We’re really close, honey.”

“That’s a good thing though, obviously. Right?”

“It’s always gonna be a good thing, trust me. I’ve never had someone in my life like you before.”

“Sooo. What about tonight?”

“I’m so sorry. Any guy would be lucky to have you. And I care about you, more than anyone, but I just… I don’t feel the same way.”

Drowning in an ocean of pity and panic. You’re back to present, watching him see those moments through your eyes, which have now glossed over with tears. He’s trying to be respectful, not accept her in front of you, keep things okay, show he won’t make it weird because of your confession. Normal. Keeping his lunch date with you.

You don’t fake your smile, hand on the door, nodding several times. He doesn’t have to feel guilty, he doesn’t have to sacrifice his happiness. You love him, even if he isn’t in love with you. And that’s all that matters. He deserves this.

When Steve glances down towards the door and back up, the bell is fading against the glass, but you’re gone...

Your sundress blows in the wind of a fresh summer storm as you leave the store behind to walk to the deli, your tears cresting, before rising in a tempo that you don’t control. Your chest feels as if there’s a thousand pounds crushing you, every negative self-image colliding, thoughts flowing free, self-loathing — it all lets loose. And before you know it, you’re sobbing in the middle of the street over Steve Harrington…

[horeisenchi]

“365 Party Girl..”

shiu kong x divorced!reader

(Kinda long, sorry!)

contains: age gap, oral sex(receiving), penetrative sex, light bdsm, breeding, drinking, drugs

NSFW MINORS DNI!🔞🔞🔞

profiles without age will be blocked

The long, gruelling process of your divorce was hitting you hard. Harder than you’d expected it to. The first couple of weeks, you were glued to your apartment. Thankfully, you work from home, so it did not affect your income. However, you completely stopped going out. Now, after you’d gotten married, you didn’t go out much to begin with. With marriage, it’s always feeling a sort of obligation to stay home. And almost every time you had actually planned to go out, your controlling husband would call you ‘childish’ and say you have better things to do. Those ‘better things��� being getting him off, and then going to sleep without another word. Before you got married, you were a full-blown party girl. It was a challenge for any man to be able to properly tie you down, for you feared that he wouldn’t approve of your loud and fast lifestyle. You didn’t want to quit, but you thought you’d found the right man. Until, the sex became bland and only about his own pleasure. You hadn’t orgasmed from anything other than the stimulation of your hand, or whatever toy you were hiding in your bedside table underneath all your underwear in the past two years. The past two years after you married that asshole in your second year of college. Two years of marriage wasted on a man who ended up leaving randomly one morning, without so much as a goodbye.

BZZZZZZZZZ!

You rolled over to your bedside table from the opposite side of the queen bed, that you at least now had to yourself.

You open your phone to a text from your good friend, Utahime, begging you to come out.

“(Y/NNNNNNNN)! Come oooon! I haven’t seen you in forever. You have that stupid cocksucker out of your life come partyyyyyyy!!!!”

Your eyes widen at the message. You hadn’t gone out in forever. Especially not with Utahime. Even though she was the maid of honour at your wedding, your now ex-husband didn’t want you going out with her. For decent reason you suppose, considering you two did tend to get into trouble. There was one time when a frat guy left his card at the local bar in the college town over, some private university guy, and you rung up his card for definitely more drinks than he could afford. This got you banned from being anywhere near that university campus for ten years. Your youth spent with Utahime, was coked out shenanigans and doing whatever you felt like doing. Because you were free.

You knew what you would be getting into accepting her offer, so your first inclination is to decline. You don’t do that anymore, you haven’t touched drugs let alone alcohol in almost a year. Not exactly out of choice, more so because of lack of exposure, but it was almost foreign territory for you now.

But, the more you thought about it, the more intriguing it sounded. That side of you had been forcefully suppressed by that man ever since you’d gotten with him. How do you know that you don’t really want to go, or if you’ve just been conditioned into not wanting to go and having that be your automatic response? I guess tonight would be that test.

“Okay, okay. Send me the address.”

With that text sent, you knew you were locked in for the night. No backing out.

“Tokyo Taste, huh? Alright…” you mumble as you recognize the address sent to you. The last time you’d gone to Tokyo Taste, you got hit on HARD.

The guy in question, was an underclassman named Suguru Geto. Utahime brought him with her, along with her other high school friends. It’s not that he wasn’t attractive, dear lord that man was so gorgeous and statuesque. You had no idea why he was even talking to you, honestly. It’s just that you could tell that he was bored. He wasn’t actually interested in you, he just saw you as an easy target. He so much as grabbed your waist, bought you a drink, bent down to whisper in your ear how good you looked, and how he could imagine himself ripping that short black dress off you later. But while he was doing that, he was checking out almost every other woman in the room. If you followed his gaze every time he’d back away from you, and suddenly act uninterested, it was him locking eyes with another woman. Sure, he didn’t owe you anything. You guys weren’t together, and had only met that night. But, you had more self respect than to just allow yourself to be someone’s entertainment. You wanted someone to be all in, interested. Knowing they have options but just giving you their attention. That was when you developed actual standards.

You sluggishly got up out of bed, the time being a whopping 9:30 PM, and sauntered over to your closet. Stepping inside, you let your eyes wander as you try to find suitable clothes for going out. As you rummage through your things, you remember how you threw a lot of that stuff out, remembering the judging gaze of your ex husband as you got dressed and he demanded you change and cover up.

Finally, you land on a short, off the shoulder long sleeve black dress that clung to your body. It wasn’t the most revealing, but it was really sexy nonetheless. Along with it, you put on some dainty jewelry and some black stilettos. With a last look in the mirror after fixing your hair and throwing on just a tinge of makeup, you threw your purse over your shoulder and headed out.

As you drove to the club, your gut churned a bit. Nervous, from what may come from tonight.

No, (Y/N)… don’t do anything you don’t want to..

You tell yourself before hopping out of your car, and start heading into the club. You pay the stupid $15 door fee (and wonder how the hell you managed to scrape up the money for it so often back then), and head inside.

Your eyes scan the room, searching for Utahime in the crowd of sweaty, practically half naked bodies that surrounded you. As soon as you spot her, she’s sitting on a high top table, seated in the chair with a man standing between her legs as she stares up at him, wantonly. You ultimately decide to leave her alone for a minute, inclining you to go to the bar where you flag down the bartender and order an extra dirty martini. You take your seat at the bar and sip it, as you wait for Utahime to be done with whatever man she’s currently frisking. As you’re sitting at the bar, you feel a pair of eyes on you. A man, wearing a suit (probably having come here right after work), having a cigarette at the side of the bar that was by the large open window. You quickly look away, not gathering much of his facial features.

“No.. no, (Y/N). It’s too soon.”

You tell yourself. You suddenly feel way too intensely about the man staring at you, neither deciding if it was bad or good, before you stand up and bee-line for Utahime’s table not even caring if she’s getting fingered by some random guy under the table.

Utahime spots you as you sit down with your drink. “(Y/N)! You maaaaaaaade it!” She drunkenly slurs. You can’t help but chuckle at her current state, not feeling surprised at all. “Well, you look like you’re having a good time.” She shoos the random man away, earning a confused grimace from him as he walks away.

“Aw, did I ruin your chances of getting some?” You ask with a tinge of faux-pity. “No, more like denying my dealer some action for giving me some free stuff.”

You don’t show it, but mentally you’re shaking your head at the knowledge now that she still did that stuff. But, then again you can’t judge. You were right there with her. “You wannaaaaa..?” She shakes the little clear bag full of white powder just outside of her purse before slipping it in there, giving me a look of knowing she’s trouble. You knew if you said no, she would drop it and never ask again. But, a part of you was burning. Itching for some sort of release, some type of taste of who you used to be that you let go of so long ago. You knew it was mostly for the better… but fuck it.

“Bathroom. Now.” You respond, firmly.

After heading to the handicap stall with Utahime, and doing one… two… okay, maybe three lines, you feel yourself start to loosen up. Your body on overdrive, like you just had four shots of espresso, and your mind shut off. Completely driven by your id. The two of you come out of the bathroom like two firecrackers, ready to shoot off. The next hour or so is like a blur. All you knew is that you and Utahime were loud as hell at that table, ordering drink after drink after drink, occasionally stopping to dance to whatever song you liked came on. One in particular made its way on your playlist afterward, 365 by Charli XCX. You guess it had just recently come out, considering you’d never heard it in a club before.

“Til the windows crack I’ll be (bumpin that)

No I never go home don’t sleep don’t eat just do it on repeat keep (bumpin that)

When I’m in the club yeah I’m (bumpin that)

365 party girl (bumpin that)”

Drink in hand, jaw swinging, pupils blown out, it was a high you had been chasing. It was exactly what you needed, to bring yourself back to reminding yourself who you are. You needed to be allowed to be wild, to be allowed to have freedom, you couldn’t be controlled.

You make your way back to the table with Utahime, your drunkenness showing, but you’re high from the substance dying down, allowing yourself to level out a moment. You were about to suggest to Utahime for another line, when she interrupts you.

“There’s a guy at the bar who’s been staring at you this entire time.”

It was the same guy from earlier. You look over, this time letting your eyes graze over his features. He was lean, certainly built, but lean. His hair was clean, he had a sort of ‘rich douche’ countenance to him. And he was staring at you, intently. Not making it a secret, either. Your mind reeled back to what you had thought about Geto last time you were here..

“I want a man to know he has other options, but still just want me. Only be interested in me.”

As your mind flashes back to that, you realize that this guy was giving you exactly what you wanted. Hell, it didn’t look like he was talking to other girls here, and he’s practically had his gaze on you from the moment you got here.

“He’s hot, you should frisk him!” Utahime exclaims enthusiastically.

“Uta! I just got divorced-“

She interrupts you “So what?! You’re divorced from that douche who didn’t give a single fuck about you?!”

Well, shit. She had a point.

With that encouragement, you get up and walk over to the mystery man who was certainly not tearing his gaze away from you as you approached him, stopping just a foot in front of him.

“You got a starin problem?” You ask, loudly over the blaring music of the club.

“Didn’t know checking out a hot woman was a problem.” He replies, cocky as he takes a drag of his cigarette. Lord, that was hot.. and he was a lot taller up close..

“You been starin’ all night.” I call him out, seeing how he’d react.

He chuckles, knowing you’re right. “Damn right I have. I know what I like.” After saying that, his eyes shamelessly trail down your body, particularly taking longer gazes at your breasts which didn’t leave much to the imagination in that dress.

“Yeah? And what is it that you like.” You decide to play coy, tease him a bit. Make him work for it.

He moves his head, trying to get a good look at you from all angles. Looking a bit behind you at your rear, at your sides, taking in your general body shape. Then his eyes raise, his gaze lingering on your face, taking in your slightly messy state. He licks his lips before replying. “Well, you’re ungodly sexy, that goes without saying. You got a body men fantasize about. And you seem loose, and fun. You got the whole indie sleaze, messy sort of thing. You were just dancing, but it looks like you just got fucked senseless.”

He pauses a moment before continuing. “And, you got a nice face to go along with it.”

You feel a pool of heat growing in the pit of your stomach. All of his words accumulated together had you feeling just slightly cocky. You could tell he wanted you. He wanted you bad.

“How many girls you talked to tonight?” You ask, suddenly after moments of silence.

He was taken aback by your question, but meeting your gaze with a smirk “Just been waiting for you to come to me, baby.”

That was it. It was like a switch flipping in the back of your mind. Okay, it was game time. Even if it was bad, even if you never speak to him again, he’d make a damn good rebound fuck.

Another hour or so goes by, chatting with this man. You found out his name is Shiu Kong, he’s a Korean citizen, and he won’t exactly describe what his job entails. You just assume he works for the government or something. The big find, was that he was older. Much older. About 20 years older. When he revealed to you he was 42, your jaw hung, and not just from the dust.

He looked damn good for his age. Not that 40s are old, but just he didn’t look it at all. You would’ve guessed late 20s-early 30s. But 40s?

You’d always fantasized about having an older man. Someone to take care of you, pay for your nails, spoil you rotten, and come fuck you braindead after he gets off work. Someone affectionate, who doesn’t play games, because why would he? He’s been around the block enough. He’s probably tired of games.

And in turn, when you tell him you’re only 22, he almost contemplates stopping the conversation right there. He didn’t want to seem like some creep who’s preying on this woman half his age. However, when you brush off his age at your initial reaction, and explain to him you were just surprised, he shoos those thoughts away. He begins to fantasize about having a woman who is wild, spontaneous, damn near uncontrollable. Someone he’ll have to put in their place every now and then. This wasn’t a fantasy he had often, but dear lord you were bringing that out of him tenfold.

You decided you’d take him home. Whats the worst that could happen?

You both take separate cars back to your apartment, because the last thing you want is it to be bad or awkward afterward, and then have to drive him to his car. After getting there, you lead him up to your apartment.

Anticipation was running through you like a wildfire. The remnants of coke and alcohol still evident, but not nearly as strong as before. Just enough to give you a confidence boost and help you act a bit more bold than usual. You very quickly, eagerly reach up to unlock the front door, and usher the both of you inside. This doesn’t go unnoticed by him. He watches as you frantically unlock the door with amusement, smirking to himself about how excited you were. How excited you were to have him as your rebound.

As soon as the door shuts, he goes to speak

“So, what do you-“

You cut him off by jumping his bones. You’d manhandled him, grabbing him by the nape of his neck and forcing his head around to meet you in a rough, wanting kiss. Pressing your body against his. He doesn’t resist, if anything, he complies in record time. He pushes you against the wall, trapping you in with his body as his hands trail down your sides with a firm grasp. His hands rest on your waist, forcefully pulling you into his hips. The kiss was hot, and rough as he damn near shoves his tongue down your throat wanting to taste all of you. Damn, you looked so good. And you tasted just as sweet.

The kiss grew sloppier, the more you incorporated your tongues. Saliva had painted the areas around both of your mouths, the skin glistening in the dim light of your apartment. You hadn’t felt this wanted in a long, long time. His hands continued to roam your body, this time latching onto whatever he can. Whether it be your ass, which he couldn’t stop staring at while you walked in front of him to your apartment. Your chest, that he could not for the life of him break his gaze away from when you spoke to him. Your shoulders, that looked so slender and biteable. Or your face, which was just so exquisite to him.

You kicked off your heels, dropping down to a smaller height. With them on, you were almost his height. With them off, you were just to his shoulder. He stopped for a moment to look at you, his hands raking through your hair gentle as he did so. Taking in just exactly how small you were compared to him. He looked like a man starved, and this just turned you on even more.

“My room is this way.” You tell him, softly, as you begin walking that way. Motioning for him to follow you.

With diligence, he follows you to your bedroom. He looks around for a moment as you go ahead and sit on the bed. It was similar to your living room, in terms of it being kept very neat and tidy and just slightly… empty? You’d told him you were divorced, but from the apartment, it looked almost half done. Like you haven’t filled the space quite yet.

He looks at you on the bed. He bites his lip and lets his gaze rake up and down your body, taking in how good you look sitting there all ready for him. He walks toward you, loosening his tie as he kneels down in front of you. You wonder for a moment what he was planning on doing, but the way he’d looked up at you as he kneeled down told you all you needed to know. He loosened his tie, and unbuttons the first two buttons of his white dress shirt before he traces his hands up your legs, slowly moving to part your inner thighs. You comply, spreading them for him. His fingers trail to your heat, gently spreading around your folds, getting a good look at your lack of panties as well as the slick that was forming there. All for him. “This all for me, baby?” He asks, with a cocky grin. You reply with a nod, biting your lip as you throw your head back. The sensation was too good, and one you went too long without.

His thumb then starts circling your sensitive clit, earning a low groan from you, and your hips squirming ever so slightly, causing him to take his hands and hold your hips in place so that he could get to work. “Let me take care of you, doll.” He says in a gruff, throaty voice before his mouth delves between your legs, giving your cunt a good swipe from bottom to top, before latching his lips onto your anticipating clit. Your jaw hangs slack. The warmth and the sensation from his tongue lapping and his lips sucking on your sensitive clit was almost too much. But, you wanted it. You wanted that release so badly. You wrap a leg over his shoulder and down his back, locking him into his position between your legs where he knelt on the floor before you. Your hand running through his hair, and using your other to support you on the bed. Your eyes went between looking down at him, rolling your eyes back and biting your lip as you watch him go to work on your pussy, and to the ceiling, just when the feeling was getting just too good when you needed to let out a loud, guttural moan that was too intense to contain.

“F-fuuuck.. Shiu- god, your mouth.. f-feels too good..”

He looks up for a moment, detaching his mouth, which let you get a good look at the slick that now painted his entire chin. “Yeah, doll? You like how I eat your pussy?” He says before immediately going back to work, eyes shut and practically pussydrunk as he buries himself into your cunt, going between tongue fucking you and making out with your clit, every so often shaking his face around down there to really savour the taste.

“Y-yeah… y- eat my pussy- s-so good- fuck.. god I’m gonna cum!” You moan out, a bit louder than the rest you’d been letting spill out as your grip on his hair tightens, the leg that ran over his shoulder and down his back stiffening as your head rolls back. You pant, and whine as you reach your mind-blowing orgasm. Coming completely undone in front of him. He can’t help but flick his eyes up, watching what he’s doing to you. His tongue movements go a bit slower, helping you ride out your orgasm before he detaches his lips, tilting his head up to look up at you as he licks his lips clean. A cocky grin forming on his lips, knowing just how damn good he made you feel.

“That feel good, baby?” He asks, his hands grazing up and down your thighs. When you nod, that gives him everything he needed to stand up in front of you, and start undressing himself. “Yeah, well. I’m gonna make you feel even better here in a moment. You gonna be a good girl and take it?”

You look up at him, all doe eyed and curious as he removes his tie, then his dress shirt, and his pants as he throws it all on the floor. “Y-yes-“ you reply to his initial question.

“Yes, what?” He asks. You couldn’t tell what exactly he wanted. Sir? Daddy? Master? “What do you want me to call you?”

He walks over to you, removing his boxers finally. Letting his length spring up and slap his gut. It was big, but not big enough to where you felt like you were going to be in agony tomorrow unable to walk. So, that was promising. He kicks them off, and forcefully grabs you by the jaw to look up at him.

“Sit up straight, baby.” He demands. You didn’t expect that to be what he says, but you comply, fixing your posture as you look up at him.

“Tonight, I want you to call me daddy. Tonight, you’re gonna let daddy use you however he wants. You’re going to obey daddy. You’re going to be daddy’s girl, tonight. That sound good to you?” He asks in a daunting tone, almost like he’s telling the rules to a child. You nod, complying with his demands.

“Get daddy’s cock wet.” He demands, pushing his dick forward into your face. You take his cock in your hand, giving it a pump or two before putting it in your mouth. Letting him bottom out to the back of your throat, you get his cock nice and ready for you. He softly puts his hand in your hair, smirking to himself as he watched you obey him so diligently.

“Yeah, doll.. you know how to do it- yeah.. just like that.. doing so good for me. Such a good girl.” He then pulls your head back, and motions for you to get up further on the bed. You lay yourself down in the center as he positions himself over you.

“Lift your dress up.”

You obey his order, lifting your dress over your head, revealing that you not only weren’t wearing panties, but weren’t wearing a bra either. He tuts as he looks down at your body, letting his hands grab and paw at your bare chest. His thumbs toying with your hard nipples, earning a soft whine from you. “Such a dirty girl. Wearing nothing under that thing you call a dress. You were just begging to get fucked.” He coos as he pinches down on your nipple harder, a small yelp coming from your throat.

You hadn’t realized before, but he still had his tie in hand. You finally noticed once he forcefully grabbed your wrists, and tied them above your head. The tie was nice and tight. Definitely going to leave a mark tomorrow. His hands go back to feeling up your chest, letting the fleshy mounds fill up his hands before..

SMACK!

You let out a quiet moan at the feeling of him slapping your tits. He does it one.. two.. three more times before mumbling to himself. “Dirty, dirty little slut..” your chest felt a bit raw, red from how hard he slapped them around. He sat there and admired his work. A red hand print forming on the side of your breast, causing his cock to twitch with pride.

He then moves down between your legs, positioning his hard, pink tip at your entrance. Swiping it up and down your cunt, slapping it on your clit. “What does baby want? Do you want daddy to fuck you? Do you want daddy to fuck you like the little whore you are? A little whore that goes out naked under her dress?”

You bite your lip so hard it almost draws blood. Your brows knit together, you give him an eager nod.

He looks dissatisfied with your answer, giving your pussy a small slap with his cock. “Words, doll.”

“Y-yes daddy.. please- please fuck me..” you beg and plead, your voice strained and sounding desperate.

Without another word, he slips inside you, completely bottoming out. He lets out a loud groan, his jaw falling open as he pushes himself inside your warm walls. You let out a long, whiny moan, having not expected to feel all of him that fast. It was slightly painful, but it felt damn good.

He starts relentlessly pounding into you, his hand finding solace and support from gripping your wrists above your head, keeping himself upright as he rutted his hips in and out of you.

It was all so much at once. He hadn’t even given you time to properly adjust to his size before he was jackhammering inside of you. Your moans come out, long, and damn they were loud. You were certainly fuelling his ego with just how much you were clearly enjoying it.

“You like it- hnnngh- you like it, doll? You like- you like how daddy fucks you? Ah- tell daddy how much you like it..”

You could hardly think straight. All that ran through your mind were the intense amounts of pleasure that flood through your body, and the sounds that came from it. Your pussy giving pornographic squelches with each thrust of his cock, the lewd slaps of your skin together, the heavy breathing from both parties along with the series of moans. You could hardly formulate a sentence.

“D-daddy- ugh.. daddy f-fffucks me s-so good- AH~!”

The whites of his eyes take over as he hears you say that. He straightens himself up, throwing your legs over his shoulders with much haste before he continues pounding into your pussy. His eyes locked and mesmerized by your facial expressions, the way your tits bounced with every thrust, just how damn good and tight you felt around him.

You’re now screaming his name after he props your legs up, allowing him deeper entry, causing him to hit that sensitive spot that your ex husband couldn’t ever seem to find before.

“S-Shiu- FUCK! HNNNGH-“

He can feel himself reaching his climax, but lord he never wanted this to be over. He wanted to keep fucking you into oblivion. He wanted to keep watching you in the whirls of ecstasy at his cock. It was all over for him when he felt your pussy tighten around him, indicating that you were reaching yours as well.

“D-daddy- I’m gonna cum- I- I’m-“

He shushes you, speaking to you calmly and soothing as opposed to how he was absolutely destroying your insides. “I’m right there too, doll.. ah-“ he winces at he approaches his climax. “I’m gonna cum inside you.. I’m gonna fill you with my seed.. get- get you pregnant.. ah!”

Your back arches, your tied hands coming down onto your stomach as your elbows buckle as you crumble under him for the second time. Drool coming down your chin as you pant and mewl at your orgasm crashing down even harder than the last.

And with that, he was shooting hot silky ropes of cum into your cunt. Fucking it deep inside you as he watches the white substance bunch up around the base of his cock, and leaking down to his balls.

His pace slows down, riding out both of your orgasms. After pulling himself out, he reaches up to untie your wrists, letting you adjust to having it off.

You lie there with your eyes shut, completely breathless after what just happened. It wasn’t until you hear the jingling of his belt before your eyes opened up to see him getting dressed.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You ask, trying to not sound desperate.

“I’m not too interested in just being a rebound, doll. But, if you decide I’m just too good to have as just a rebound..” he digs around in his pocket for a moment, before handing you a business card with his phone number on it. ‘Shiu Kong - Formal Handler’

You wondered what formal handler meant. But, before you could ask, he was bidding you goodbye and making his grand exit. You lay there, dumbfounded at how quickly that turned around. Did you just get ‘you-ed’ by this guy..?

It took days of consideration and replaying the events of that night in your mind over and over, before you called him.

Thanks for reading!!! This is my first fic I’m posting on here so pleaaase be nice, but also if you have any constructive criticism I’m SO open to it. Thanks!

[sinning-23]

Serenade (Zoro x Siren!Reader)

Warnings: none really, mentions of touching and like ONE kiss. reader wants to eat zoro but fails successfully?

Enjoy

Pt.2 Found Here

______________________________________________________________

He had dozed off on the main deck, the sun hitting his face just enough to warm him up as he rested. The rock of the boat had him in somewhat of a trance and the song from below had lulled him into a false sense of security. That voice. So beautiful, so heavenly. Like a warm embrace, the notes wrap around him, the feeling of hands trailing up his forearms towards his shoulders.

Nails, sharp and threatening trace the lines of his neck with ease, coming up to caress his jawline, his heart swelling at the action, like a dream. A heavenly dream, that voice lures him into slumber. Your voice lulls him to rest.

On the ship's edge, you clawed your way up the side, slithering between the bars. You can see his chest rising and falling as your song pulls him closer and closer to rolling off the edge. You didn’t want to devour him…we’ll you did. You wanted to taste him, touch him, have him.

Own him.

And so far, for the last 5 days, your voice has done that. Every day and at the same time for 5 days he would ‘doze off’ mistakenly, the low tones of your song making him drowsy. You’d sneak into his dreams, making him hallucinate your touch, the way your body feels wrapped around him.

Zoro had never really felt inclined to act on feelings like lust before…but when it came to this unknown force (you) he felt…almost uncontrollable. You would have been successful if the orange haird woman hadn't stomped her way towards him, agasp leaving her lips when she spotted you, puddle of sea water beneath you as you reached to pull him by his swords.

"ZORO!" She calls, his eyes opening just as you retreat back and try to escape.

Lulling your prey was easy, going for the kill, not so much. Your tail flops and smacks against the wet wood, your nails leaving indents beneath you when he grabs you by your wrist with a scowl. Your hunger is replaced with fear, not truly knowing the gravity of your situation. You had gotten close to killing one of the most skilled swordsmen, and he looked like he was about to turn your goofy ass into sashimi.

"P-Please," You pleade, voice lulling him right back into compliance.

Resorting to begging had gotten you out of more tough situations than you'd admit...so why not try now? Your serenade was strong enough to make him let his guard down, maybe it would get you out of being killed from essentially trying to get some lunch.

Perhaps you could flip this and make it seem like you were only trying to seek help.

"Please help me." You let your free hand trail up his shirt, caressing the skin there as your nails left a bit of an indent. He swallows hard, pupils blown wide.

It's working.

The ginger speaks but it only falls upon deaf ears as you try and convince your victim you're innocent.

___________

You sit idly at the table, the rest of the crew you had successfully avoided up until this point simply watching you. Your pleading had managed to get Zoro to spare your life and the captain who you learned to be named Luffy, insisted on helping you since you asked. Help with what? You had no clue, it was a lie to get you out of a mess and now here you were sitting silently as their eyes glazed over cautiously.

The ginger who you leaned was named 'Nami' was less than fond of you and the two men who came to be known as Usopp and Sanji only stared on awe, trying to figure out whatever they could about you simply based on appearance.

The oversized shirt you had borrowed was sliding down your shoulders, revealing part of your back and the very real dorsal fin down your spine.

He notices how your eyes blink both vertically and horizontally, most likely something to do with your mythological abilities as a mermaid? siren? He didn't care. Well, he did but that wasn't what the main focus was. He wasn't to know how you'd gotten him so relaxed like that.

He was nonchalant and calm in chaos but...never relaxed like that. Where he felt like he was floating. He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the illusion of you caressing his hair and his shoulders, pressing soft lips to his temple, or along the skin of his neck. He swallows hard, trying to refocus on the conversation at hand instead of how you'd had him entranced.

"I'm just hungry is all." You speak, eyes piercing his when you say it. He feels his stomach sink.

As if waiting for the okay to begin prepping, Sanji makes haste to get to the kitchen, exploring you follow him, only to be stopped by Nami who whispers a warning into his ear. He seemed more cautious now, telling you to wait where you were instead.

"So, like, what are you?" Usopp questions, still taken with the sight of merfolk in front of him. Unknown to you, you'd definitely be part of his rather aggrandized stories.

Zoro's eyes don't leave your form, the conflicting feelings of what he hoped wasn't some immature crush and adoration brewing in his chest. As far as he could tell you handt opened your mouth to sing or convince anyone of anything to save your own life. So why had you gotten him so...attached. He dismisses himself quickly. Nami knows that look and shakes her head no, following after him when he opts to leave the front deck.

"She tried to kill you, you know that right? And of course, Luffy is gonna help her because she asked and used her stupid siren powers or whatever the hell!" She scoffs, arms folded over her chest.

"Your point? Plenty of people try and kill me."He shoots back, only making Nami throw her hands up.

"Fine, but when shes got her teeth in your neck, I'm not coming to save your ass."

-----

He knows he should have listen, but how can he when you've god those beautifly sharpy pearly whites grazing right over his jugular, your tongue slinding over the spot instead.

"Let me taste you." You command, voice sweet yet venomous, and all he can do is nod, capturing your lips.

or is this another illusion he's so stupidly fallen for?

Pt.2 maybe? i hope yall liked this lol. sorry for any spelling errors too.

[wordsbyrian]

Surgeries and Surprises - Alex Morgan x Reader

Summary: "Skater!R gets injured", "Skater!R skates in XGames", "IDK but more Skater!R"

A/n: Look, I finally wrote a thing you guys! From multiple request for more Skater!R

Despite popular belief, skateboarding is an incredibly multifaceted activity.

There are so many different disciplines: street, vert, park, freestyle, downhill (and its variation street luge), and cruising.

For the first four, there are different competitions that skaters can compete in if they are so inclined. And in all honesty, you are usually not inclined to compete, preferring the unpredictable nature of actual street skating to the polished finish of comps like Street League, XGames, and Dew Tour.

But the chance to be one of the first skateboarders to compete in the Olympics.

Well, that’s not really something you can pass up on.

Which is why you’re skating in your 5th comp of the summer.

Not the worst schedule but you’re an idiot and made the choice to also try and get clips for your next video parts in your very limited free time.

Free time, that was only made more limited by the way you were constantly flying back and forth to France to support your wife in the World Cup.

All of this is to say that your body is currently going through it.

And, unluckily, it’ll keep going through it because XGames comps are not set up in a way that plays to your strengths, with only three 45 seconds runs to string together a line and show the judges what you can do.

Luckily, on the other hand, your flight out of Minneapolis is booked for immediately after the contest ends.

Your first two timed runs went pretty well but you know you can do better which is why you saved your best stuff for your final run.

And for the most part, your final run goes pretty well until you get to your last trick with 10 seconds remaining.

You had planned it out perfectly so that you had enough time to take a breath before giving it a go. A necessary precaution for a trick you're familiar with but not a master at, a frontside flip noseslide to fakie, especially since you’re trying it down the biggest obstacle, the 4-block rail.

A little homage to Reynolds, something you’ve been doing throughout the contest season.

Except there are a couple of problems.

The first is that, unlike Reynolds, you are not a master of the frontside flip.

The other is that after a long day of being skated by just about everyone, the rail had picked up the wax from everyone’s boards, making it slicker than you need it to be for your noseslide.

Which is why you aren’t very surprised when you hit the ground. The only surprising thing is how much it hurts.

You immediately roll over and begin to stand up and take a few steps, only to drop to one knee after barely making it anywhere.

As you try to gather the strength to stand again, you’re stopped by someone placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Stay down, Y/N/N.” It’s Reynolds. “You just used your head as a basketball and your arm is fucked. They’re bringing out a stretcher.”

“I’m fine,” you say, trying to get up again. “I don’t need a stretcher.”

His hand gets firmer and you feel him pushing you to sit down properly.

“I’m serious, Y/N, I’m serious,” he says. “I’m telling you this as your friend, not as your boss. You need to go to the hospital, your shit is fucked.”

It’s at this moment that you realize how quiet the arena is.

It’s almost as if you can hear the individualized breaths of everyone in the building and honestly, it's making your head pound in a way that you wish you weren’t familiar with.

Then you see the EmTs rolling the stretcher towards you.

“Fuck dude,” you groan, resigning yourself to your fate. “Just don’t call Alex, man, she’s gonna freak out.”

“It’s too late, she already texted me she’s trying to get on the next flight out.”

“Shit.”

The entire process of letting the EMTs do their jobs is a hassle because it’s painfully obvious that they don’t deal with skateboarders often. And it takes a lot of convincing for you to even let them strap you to the backboard.

Your memory blurs out a bit after that.

The only thing you really remember besides waking up in the hospital is telling Reynolds to make sure that they don’t give you anything stronger than a Tylenol (that didn’t happen).

When you regain consciousness it’s to the sound of voices, two you recognize and one you don’t.

“She should be coming out of the anesthesia soon,” the recognizable voice says, a doctor maybe. “In addition to her mild concussion, there were some moderate tears to her deltoid that were repaired in surgery. Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do about the fractures to the humeral head as we can’t cast the area.”

“She’s not going to like the sound of that,” you hear Alex say, “Not going to like that at all.”

“Unfortunately, whether she likes it or not doesn’t really matter. She needs to be in the sling for a few weeks at least,” the doctor says.

“Alright, thanks doc,” Reynolds' loud voice makes the headache you forgot you had worse. “Don’t worry Alex, she’s been through worse. Besides, the medal will make her feel better.”

“Not now Andrew.”

The door to your room opens a tiny bit and through squinted eyes, you watch as both your wife and mentor slip through the crack, closing the door behind them.

When they get close enough that you can make out the details on their faces, you stick your hand out to Alex and attempt to pull her into the hospital bed with you.

She doesn’t let you though and instead releases your hand to pull the only chair closer to the bed.

“Not so fast, hotshot,” she says, keeping her voice low.

“I told Andrew to tell you that you didn’t need to come all the way out here. You should be at home resting,” you tell her.

“And I told him that I was already on my way to the airport.”

“And I told you,” Reynolds says, frowning at you, “that I wasn’t going to risk having your wife mad at me.”

You roll your eyes at him.

“Now here’s your medal, silver’s not too bad considering you knocked yourself out,” he says, placing the item on the edge of the bed. “I’ll see you around bro.”

Both you and Alex watch as he quickly exits the room, moving sort of like his ass is on fire, and leaving the two of you alone.

The second the door fully shuts behind him you turn back to Alex and see more than her sigh deeply.

“How do you feel…”

“Why weren’t you…”

You both try to speak at the same time.

“No, you go ahead,” you tell her.

“Well, first of all, were you just about to ask how I’m feeling while you are literally laying in a hospital bed,” she asks.

You shrug somewhat sheepishly and say, “I mean you just flew halfway across the country and I know you haven’t been feeling the best lately.”

“Y/N/N, you’re ridiculous.”

“Anyway,” she says, rolling her eyes at you, “Why weren’t you wearing a helmet? You can only smash your head so many times before the damage is irreversible and I don’t like constantly being called to hospitals wondering if this time is the one.”

You take a second to let her words sink in.

She’s right.

Ever since the two of you reconnected and subsequently got together roughly 4 years ago, you’ve been injured quite a bit.

This is your 3rd concussion and 4th broken. You’ve also ruptured your achilles, cracked a few ribs, had one of your lungs collapse, and gotten over 50 stitches from various gashes gained from getting cut open skating some sketchy spots.

That’s not even counting the smaller ones that you haven’t told her about, like when you sprained your ankle visiting her during the Rio Olympics.

But admitting that Alex is right has never been something you’re great at.

So instead you just scoot over in the bed and ask her to lay down with you again.

It takes a bit of pleading but you do get her to join you and when she does, you’re quick to wiggle around into a position that's comfortable but still allows you to hold her.

With the knowledge that your current position makes it impossible for her to see your face, you can’t help but crack a joke.

“C'mon, babe, you know that helmets are for hills and hills only,” you say, finally answering her question, only to immediately recoil as she pinches you. “Okay, I’m sorry. I know I really freaked you out today and I hate that I keep forcing you to come see me in hospitals. And I…” she cuts you off.

“You’re not forcing me to do anything,” she protests, keeping her voice light. “I love you even though you seem dead set on destroying your body.”

“It’s not really on purpose,” you say, pulling her impossibly closer. “I don’t know how to explain it but sometimes when I skate it’s like an out-of-body experience. Nothing matters except how good it’s gonna feel when I roll away. I can barely even think straight when I’m on my board but that obviously means I don’t think about how my choices affect others and that’s not fair to you.”

When you finish speaking, the first thing you hear from your wife is a sigh that can only be described as annoyed.

“What,” you ask.

“You’re an idiot,” she says.”

“Babe,” your voice is indignant, and too loud even to your own ears.

“I’m sorry but you’re so dumb,” she says. “I’m not concerned because of how it affects me, I care about how it affects you. You’ve been acting strangely all summer and I don’t really want to see where this path takes you.”

Once again Alex is right.

And her pointing out your recent odd behavior, something you hadn’t noticed yourself, is like a bucket of ice water over your head.

Taking a deep breath, you nod even though she can’t see you and say, “I think I need to call my sponsor.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

Unfortunately, between your concussion and having to travel back to Orlando, the call to your sponsor had to wait a few days.

And in those few days, you begin to really notice the behaviors Alex had mentioned.

Even before your injury, you were stressed and anxious but you had ignored it, believing it was tied to the comps and upcoming deadlines.

But now with those things mostly out of the way, the intensity of these feelings is familiar and you aren’t very fond of the places you ended up the last few times you felt like this.

And the isolation of being trapped at home, unable to do much more than stare at the walls and wait for Alex to get back from training, only made those feelings stronger.

When you’re finally able to make that call and the first words finally come out of your mouth, it’s as though the weight of the world comes off your shoulders.

Recovery isn’t an instant process but you do instantly feel a little better as you explain your recent behaviors that you now recognize as somewhat erratic.

And when the call ends, you have a list of dates, times, and locations so you can go to a meeting whenever you need to.

The only thing that's really left for you to do is talk to your wife when she gets home but that might be the hardest part.

So you wait, completing as many boring household tasks as you can to make the time pass more quickly.

It doesn’t really work that well because you only have one arm to work with. And you're just unlucky enough that it's your dominant hand out of commission.

You’re in the middle of unloading the dishwasher when you hear the front door open and shut.

It doesn’t take long for Alex to find you and in the back of your mind, you know that the only reason she didn’t shout your name across the house like she normally does is because of your lingering headache.

“Hey babe,” you hear her greet as you bend over to place a pot in its designated cabinet.

“Hi,” you respond, standing back up and turning to face her, only to see that she’s already taken a seat at the island. “Oh, that’s the serious conversation chair,” you note, going to lean on the counter opposite her.

“I mean it is serious but it’s nothing bad.”

“If it’s nothing bad, do you mind if I go first,” you ask, “Mine isn’t bad either but I finally got around to giving Noah a call.”

When you say that it's almost as though you can feel the energy in the room shift.

“How did that go?”

“It definitely went.”

“Are you going to elaborate or…”

Sighing deeply, you shuffle your feet, focusing on the way your socks slip over the tile.

“Apparently, when you’re really stressed and overly tired your brain chemistry changes,” you tell her, now looking up at the ceiling. “Which makes people look for things to relieve the stress, which can be a bad thing for addicts. And between the video parts, qualifiers, and flying all over the place, I haven’t actually had a chance to sit down and think, much less attend a meeting. But now, when I would’ve had a chance to, I can barely be in a room with lights on for more than 15 minutes.”

There’s a moment of silence before Alex responds and as it passes, you can feel your heart sink further and further into your stomach. This is the moment that she finally decides that being with you is far more work than it's worth.

Your downward spiral is broken by the sound of her voice.

“I guess that means that we have to come up with ways for you to handle stress when you're busy,” Alex says, “because you’re only about to get busier.”

“What? No, I’m not, the next two competitions are at the end of the month and I literally can’t skate for the next month and a half.”

“3 months,” she shoots back, “and yes you will.”

“You’re not making any sense Alex.”

Alex gets up from her seat and makes her way toward you. Before you know it, she’s reaching out for your good hand, which to this point has had a death grip on the counter behind you, not that you’ve noticed.

With a confused look on your face, you watch as she pulls your hand to rest against her stomach before covering it with both of her own.

Still confused, it takes you longer than you’d like to admit to figure out why she would do that.

It’s only when you remember the seemingly never-ending nausea Alex has been dealing with that you connect the dots.

“Oh shit.”

[askinkiskarma]

High Infidelity

Adult!Neteyam x (f)Metkayina!Reader x Ao'nung

Warnings: cheating, smut (fingering, oral - f receiving, praise kink), cursing, 18+ minors dni

Word count: 3.7k words

Notes: oops, was supposed to write other things, but listening to this song triggered smth in my brain so here it is x enjoy ;)

next part (x)

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?

Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?

“I’m tired, we can do it tomorrow.” 

“Ao’nung, we haven’t been swimming together in months. We’re supposed to be together for the rest of our lives, you’d think I wouldn’t have to drag you outside to spend time with me every other day.”

“Maybe if you stopped nagging me like we’re already mated, I would be more inclined to want to spend time with you.” 

You couldn’t stop the tears falling down your cheeks any less than your legs making a run for it at the slightest pushback from your mate-to-be. Running away was the only time you felt free anymore. You loved Ao’nung. He’s been in your life… well, your whole life. There was little of you that wasn’t tied back to him and there was little of him that wasn’t embedded in you. You grew up together, Tsireya’s best friend and confidant, Ronal’s long-lost daughter, it seemed. You might as well be, since your parents were never around anyway, not to raise you, or to teach you better than to accept such treatment from a boy, who had been sweet and kind to you all your life, until he realised you liked him, until he realised that no matter how little he gave, you would cling on to it for dear life, you would pretend a drop of water was a fountain, and that it could sustain your thirst until the next drop came. 

You didn’t stop until you hit the beach, that was deserted this time of night, and sat down on the warm, soft sand. You sighed, allowing yourself the kindness of respite, of crying it out without shame, without constraint, without being made to feel stupid for being soft. You felt so foolish, so used and yet somehow so useless, at the same time. You were deep in thought, so deep in your own sorrow, that felt like it was drowning you, keeping your head forcefully underwater until there was no more breath in your lungs, that you missed the steps tracking closer until a tall form was towering above you.

 

“Are you alright?”

You shot up and onto your feet, pried out of your anguished reverie and shaking from the scare of another person, at a time and place you thought you would have the safety of solitude. You immediately recognised the young man sitting across from you, the rhythmic bioluminescent waves shining over his face, making him glow with ethereal beauty unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. It was hard not to know who he was, as him and his family have been the talk of the village for a while now, the buzz surrounding their arrival constant and unending. Neteyam Te Suli Tsyeyk’itan, the son of Jake Sully, the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya and the Sixth ever Toruk Makto. Everybody knew his story, everybody admired him, for his valiant win over the demons that took so much from the Na’vi and from the Planet. Now there he was, in your village, with his whole family, asking for Uturu, asking for a new chance, asking to be trained in the Metkayina ways. 

Neteyam Sully was a beautiful man. Tall and muscular, his body was a deep shade of blue, so unlike your own, so unlike anything you’ve ever known. His stripes were even darker, an intense indigo that reminded you of the night sky, of the sea during a heavy storm, and the contrast was hypnotising, so hypnotising, in fact, you couldn’t stop the booming in your heart or the way you were shamelessly staring at his arms and chest. His hand went to your chin, and he brought your face upwards to get you to look in his eyes. You swore your breath stopped when he touched you, all of your 18 years of breath practice and your phenomenal control right out the window. His eyes were bright like the stars in the night sky, which might as well have been dull and pointless when compared to the freckles on his face, that shone brilliantly and moved upwards as his lips lifted in a soft smile. 

“Can you hear me?” 

You shook your head lightly, trying to push the thoughts out of your head and bring the sane ones back in. 

“Y-yes, I can. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I just wanted to make sure you are alright. You seemed… upset.”

His hand didn’t drop from you chin, and his lingering touch sent shivers down your back that reached the tips of your fingers and toes before dissipating and being replaced with new ones, electrifying your entire being. 

This was wrong. You were promised to another man. To the future Olo’eyktan. You had no business getting shivers down your spine, no business getting lost in his eyes, no business feeling feelings you have never felt before, not with Ao’nung, not with anybody else. You took a step back and watched and his hand fell from your face limply besides his body. 

“I’m alright. Thank you for checking, you are very kind. I should probably go now. It’s late.” 

You didn’t look behind you as you passed him and headed hurriedly back towards the village, hoping this way you could outrun him, the emotions he evoked in you, the shame that followed and the guilt that you knew was lurking menacingly in the shadows. 

“I’m sorry for being such a dick. Forgive me?” 

The shell he was holding out in his palms was gorgeous, everything you liked about the world and the sea wrapped in a tiny, magical package. He knew what you liked, he knew you very well, a thought that made you despondent. If he knew you, that means he knew what he was doing to you. He knew the feelings that plagued you, feelings that he brought upon you, that his actions brought upon you, and he still did them - unapologetically, at least until the last second, when he came asking for forgiveness, which you granted every time. He raised an index finger to your chin and lifted your head and you couldn’t help the booming in your ears when the action reminded you of the Omatikaya boy and the night you’ve pointlessly tried your best to forget about the past couple of weeks. 

As your lips touched, a messy, sloppy kiss, filled with intention and need, you felt your heart drop to your stomach as not even this kiss, passionate as it was, invoked a fraction of the same reaction in your body as Neteyam’s one touch. Still, you loved Ao’nung. You always have. You were to be a mated pair soon. You were to be together…forever. He moaned as he deepened the kiss and you smiled at knowing, despite everything, it was you who made him feel this way. He might be acting out now, but he loved you, he wanted you. And one day, he’ll love you enough to show you in more ways than just the one. 

“I still have to teach the Omatikaya, how about you come with me?”

“NO!” 

Ao’nung looked at you curiously and tried to understand where this reaction was coming from. You knew you exaggerated and had to calm yourself if you were to not raise any suspicion. Not that there was anything to raise, you didn’t do anything wrong. And yet still, you couldn’t stop the nagging feeling, the lingering thought that you had to lie, that what happened had to stay between you and the eldest Sully. 

“I’d rather not, I have other things to do around the village anyway.”

Ao’nung scoffed and rolled his eyes irately. 

“You know, you keep saying we never spend time together, but then you pull this shit. I’m busy, you know? I can’t always entertain you whenever you want.” 

You felt the all-too-familiar sinking feeling take over your mind again, just like the tears that formed almost instantly at his words, threatening you, praying for one moment of weakness so they’d fall and make a mess out of you again. 

“Ao’nung… I come most times you ask. Every time you ask, in fact, which is very rarely. I just can’t right now. I’ll wait for you to come by my marui tonight. My parents aren’t home.” 

Why did you do that? Why did you ask him to come? He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve you. You made a promise, though. To the clan, to the Tsa’hik and Olo’eyktan. To him. It was an unbreakable promise, a sacred bond. You were mere weeks away from completing your Iknimaya, short time away from giving yourself to him, allowing him to do to you what you knew was the ultimate form of intimacy, what you’ve wondered about for years, what you’ve been craving for the last few weeks. 

You walked on the beach, the same beach, a beach most Metkayina didn’t come to, as it was out of the way and filled with big rocks and greenery that took away from the beauty of it all and the usual uninterrupted patch golden sand which people liked to lie on, to feel, as it grazed their sea-green skin. You hoped the walk would clear your mind, a hope that quickly vanished from sight as a certain cerulean Na’vi tapped you gently on the shoulder, making you jump out of your skin. He laughed softly, his sharp, pronounced canines coming swiftly into view, and you felt a sudden urge to touch them, to see if they were indeed as sharp as they looked. Could they draw blood? Could they pierce your skin easily, as they grazed over you, over your neck, over your -

“Sorry I scared you. I was hoping I’d run into you again.”

“I…” you took a deep breath in a futile effort to calm your nerves. “I thought you were training with Ao’nung.” 

He eyed you intently, his gaze trailing over your face and landing on your lips. You opened them slightly to accommodate the deeper breaths you felt the need to take, like your body needed an increase in its oxygen intake to keep up with the intensity of his presence. 

“I was, but my dad needed me for something. I’m on my way there now.” 

Your hand felt like it caught on fire as his fingers wrapped around it, lifting it up in front of you until your palm was facing upwards and he dropped a bracelet in it, closing your hand with a touch of his hand and letting you go. 

“You lost this, that night on the beach? I have been meaning to give it back to you, but you have a way of eluding me, it seems.” 

You opened your hand again and inspected the item that was now residing in it. It was a bracelet you got as a gift when you were much younger, when your mateship with Ao’nung was first announced. Your shoulders dropped at its sight. It was pretty, and ornate, and a bitter reminder of what was beautiful and has now soured through time, like fruit left outside on a hot day. 

“Thank you. I appreciate you finding it for me. It’s very precious to me.”

He chuckled a little, unable to keep the sarcasm from coating his tongue. 

“Is it? It’s been weeks since you’ve lost it, and the way you reacted makes me think you didn’t even realise it was gone.”

You took a step back at his words and felt your ears flattening in response. Your dour expression must have taken him by surprise, just like his words did you, because he took a step towards you and spoke. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to infer. You know better than me what this means to you. It was rude of me, and I apologise.” 

You couldn’t help staring at him once more, wide-eyed and bushy tailed, unable to understand the words that were coming out of his mouth. He… apologised? He said something untoward and he just… apologised? You don’t think this has ever happened to you. You didn’t think that was possible, not to you, at least. Other girls, your friends, had mates like that, had relationships that were… well, happy. They were happy, and filled with love and lust and passion, with sleepless nights and midnight swims, with lingering touches and anticipating gazes, filled with feelings of flickering flames and wondrous woes, filled with so many things you’ve never felt before, with all the things you were feeling right in this second. 

“So you are Ao’nung’s mate?”

Why was he asking you this? Why now?

“Mate-to-be.” You whispered, knowing that if your voice was any louder, it would be shaky and breathy. 

He nodded to himself, looking deep in thought as his eyes darted to your much smaller body and then over in the distance, at the waves crashing on the beach. 

“Why are you asking, Neteyam?” 

His step faltered a little as you said his name, but he regained his composure almost immediately, falling back into step with you, as if it never happened. His face gave little away, although his tail was moving behind you furiously, running up and down the back of your thighs in their haphazard motion. You felt heat pool in the pits of your abdomen at the quick brush of the soft appendix, that you tried to will away to no avail. 

“Take care of yourself. I should go train with your mate.” 

And just like that he left, leaving you to deal with your chagrinned heart and leering mind, all on your own. 

He didn’t show. Once more, you waited for hours in your tent, until way past eclipse, and your mate didn’t show. You were crying in your hammock, trying to undo the hurt in your heart, hoping that if you cry hard enough it will just escape through your tears duct and be gone from your body once and for all. You were playing with the bracelet he gave you so long ago, cursing it and cursing him for the years of hurt and pain, the years of broken promises and shattered expectations, and with newfound determination, you dropped it on the floor and left for your beach. 

You were a little surprised when you found Neteyam sitting peacefully on the beach, looking into the darkness that enveloped the sea for the night, only the glimmer of the bioluminescent plankton being hit by the soft waves visible. You swallowed audibly, and made your way to this man you had some sort of unspoken connection to, trying to ignore the way your heart thumped in your chest at the mere sight of him. 

His ears twitched as he made out your presence, but he didn’t made any effort to acknowledge it otherwise. 

“He didn’t show, did he?”

“H-how did you…?”

“I overheard you. In the morning.” He got up and turned around to face you, a fervid look on his face that made your legs quiver and push together to accommodate the feeling growing in between your thighs. 

“Why were you so adamant about not coming training with us?”

“I was… busy.” 

His body got closer to you, closer and closer, regardless of how many steps back you were taking, regardless of the fact that you made every effort to get away from his presence that overwhelmed your every sense, clouded your every critical thought and replaced it with a blabbering mess of heightened emotion and need. You gasped loudly when your back hit the trunk of a tree and you realised there was nowhere to go anymore. No place to hide, nothing to do but deal with it, with him. 

“You’re lying. Don’t lie to me.”

His beautiful aureate eyes were fixed on your face, an ardent, hungry look haunting them, haunting you. Your knees were weak and wobbly, cowering under the weight of his presence, under the weight of the lust washing over you. His hands raised to your face, and the rough calloused feel of his fingertips made you pant, made you fantasise about how they would feel against other parts of you that desperately craved attention. 

What are you doing? This is wrong. This is so wrong. 

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

You knew as his face was closing in on yours that you were doomed, that you didn’t have it in you to stop him, that you didn’t want to stop him. You knew that this kiss would mark a point of no return, a path of illicit affairs and unspeakable secrets, and that nothing could ever take it back, but you didn’t care. You wanted to know what it felt like, to be wanted, to be owned, to feel special.

His lips were nothing like his hands, instead they felt feathery and soft, and he tasted sweet, like a ripened fruit or like a child’s laughter. The kiss was hungry and needy, like you were, and your lips were brushing over each other, devouring any ounce of sanity still left in you as his tongue trailed over your lips and into your mouth, and you welcomed him with your own, allowing yourself to taste him, allowing him to taste you, to explore you. 

“I want you. I want you so badly, I want you to know what you do to me. I want to show you what you deserve.”

He broke the kiss to place new, wet ones along your jaw and down your neck, and your couldn’t help the moan that escaped you and the way your head threw back, chest heaving at the sensation, at his maddening words. His lips were roaming your body, licking and sucking and biting on every inch of your torso and abdomen, like he was uncovering uncharted territory and wanted to know every secret within it. He knelt in front of you as he reached your hips, and you found yourself using the very limited amount of critical thinking you still had to push his head away from where you knew he was headed, from where you desperately wanted him, from where you knew he couldn’t be. 

“No. We can’t. This is wrong.”

“Yes. Yes, we can. You can, and you should. You should see what you’re missing out on by being promised to him. Let me show you how good it can be. How good I can make you feel.” 

He tightened his hand around one of your thighs and plopped it on his shoulder and then wrapped his fingers in the waistband of your loincloth, untying it easily. You groaned as the breeze hit your now uncovered core and shut your eyes tightly when the sight made Neteyam let out a wild, throaty moan that made you feral. 

“Look at that. You’re already ready for me. You’re dripping wet, that’s how badly you want this. How can something that feels this good ever be wrong?” 

You were a hyperventilating mess as his face got so close to your folds, you could feel his warm breath on you. A kiss is all it took for you to melt under his touch, for all reason to leave your being, every memory of your promised mate erased from your mind, like he never existed. Like nothing ever existed outside of this man, outside of the feelings he evoked in you. He pushed his tongue inside of you and you pushed out unintelligible noises, that got louder the harder he thrusted in you, the more his lips moved fluidly and skilfully on you, sucking and biting until the pleasure was coiling inside of you like a spring ready to give out at any blow of the wind. His tongue was swiftly replaced with a finger, and the foreign sensation made you squeeze your legs together as you discovered it, as you revelled in it. 

“You’re taking it so well, baby girl. So well. Think you can do one more finger?” 

You had no words, no words could be formulated in your state, so you just nodded aggressively, bucking your hips against him and he chuckled. 

“So needy. Needy for my fingers, huh?” 

He didn’t wait for an answer as he retracted his middle finger and pushed it back in, adding the ring finger, until he reached a spot that made you scream out, eyes rolling in the back of your head. 

“That’s it, that’s the spot. Feel good? You like being fingered, you like my mouth on this needy cunt, huh?”

His words made you a mewling mess, and you felt the pressure in your core build up and you knew it was building up towards a release that would take everything out you, that would ruin you, just like he was ruining you. 

“I can feel you squeezing my fingers. I want to see you come, I want to taste your cum on my tongue, baby girl. Come for me. Show me how good I make you feel.”

His tongue found his way back to your clit, licking and sucking while maintaining an unrelenting pace of his fingers and with little warning, your orgasm washed over you like a rogue wave in the middle of an ocean of pleasure, overtaking you, drowning you in him, in this feeling you never wanted to end. 

He smirked as he got up and kissed you, and you loved the taste of yourself on him, loved it in all its unholy, nefarious, sinful glory. His thumb brushed your lips as he spoke.

“One day, you’re going to beg me to fuck you. And I’ll do it so well, you will never be able to get me out of your mind, never be able to touch yourself again without an image of my cock slipping in and out of you ingrained in your brain.” 

He walked away without looking at you. 

“Sleep well.” 

pt. 2? maybe? maybe not?

[multimilfs]

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader: The Reigning Game, Chapter (6/?)

Chapter 6 - The River's Purpose

Summary: Taking the next steps to protect your kingdom, you're faced with some brutal memories. Also, Agatha schemes.

AO3

A/N: This chapter is moving us into some plot points a little more and I'm really excited to set into motion what I've been brewing for several years now. So many layers... so many.

Thank you so much to anyone and everyone who left comments on chapter 5! It was hard to come back after being away for so long, but the warm welcome made it easier. I ask that if you feel so inclined, please leave a comment telling me what you enjoyed/liked <3 comments keep me writing!

Tag List: @escapetodreamworld @multifandomfix @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @imtrashinflames @thatmacrameisnotgonnahitchitself @thoroughly--confused @white--lillies

Warning(s): Murder, blood, unhealthy coping mechanisms, smut; sadism/masochism, biting, semi-public sex, blood play (kinda), degradation, choking (mentioned), masturbation

| Previous Chapters |

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.”  C.S. Lewis

It’s the muffled noises within that bring you to step over the threshold. You drag your fingers along the door as you pass, fingertips slipping over grooves, tracing the familiar picture.

The shades are drawn. Light creeps in around the edges. There’s a chair positioned by one of the windows, and in it sits a figure.

“Why me?” It whispers, moans in anguish, “Please, why me?”

Not this, anything but this.

You stop in your tracks. The soft cries continue, echoing off the walls of the cavernous room. Foreboding builds in your gut, twisting your insides into something awful. She shouldn’t be crying; she had always been so beautiful in joy.

The figure tilts her head back, pleading to the sky, “Why me?”

Nothing here serves you. You know where it leads. You remember the end.

You turn to leave, but the door is replaced by a solid wall. Your hands scramble over its length. This can’t happen—this is your mind, isn’t it? And you want out.

You press your hands against the wall, willing it to release you, but they shake. The only way out is through. That’s always been the truth, hasn’t it?

As you approach, you see how she rocks in the chair, knees to her chest as she moves. Her hands are clenched in her hair, obscuring the face you love.

“Please.” She begs.

You can’t breathe. You fight the bile coming up your throat.

You don’t recognize your own voice, “Mama?”

She continues on as if not hearing. Her hands are bone-white where they clutch her head. Blood seeps from where her fingernails puncture the skin.

“Mama?”

You lay a gentle hand on her shoulder, just as you did then. She lets free a blood-curdling scream.

--

The first thing you do upon waking is turn and expel your last meal onto the ground beside the bed. Your throat feels raw, your middle clenching and seizing as you try to just breathe. Tears seep from your eyes.

Attempting to move makes your stomach turn again. You snap your eyes shut, hands fisting in the furs of your makeshift bed. A miserable whimper leaves your throat.

Half a lifetime of memories and the sound of her screaming is clearer than any else.

For a moment in your anguish all you desire is to call out for her; to have your Mother press kisses to your hair and tell you that you’re safe, it was only a terrible dream. But you’re alone. You’re a woman grown, left to bear the weight of soothing yourself. Agatha certainly won’t do any soothing for you.

Agatha.

You turn over—an action your stomach does not thank you for—expecting her mocking face to watch from the dark. The wind blows open the flap of your tent and a slant of moonlight peeks in. Agatha’s chair sits empty at the foot of the bed.

“Harkness?” You call, voice hoarse.

Only the wind against the tent and a faint rushing of water answer back.

You’re careful when stepping your way to the opening of the tent, desperate for light. Without it inside, you do hit your foot a few times. The pain… helps. Centers you before dissipating all too quickly.

The short grass whips in the breeze. Flowers painted in moonlight twist, petals flying away into the darkness you can’t see. The water is louder, racing away. You admire the glimmering surface from afar.

In the staggering heat of the day you had hardly taken the time to admire this place. More plants and flowers than you’ve ever seen line the riverbank on each side. Shining, scaly bodies of fish leap from the white-water. They fly and spin with the trees as their audience. Then, they’re returned to the depths, gliding downstream where the white-water careens over a cliffside and into the neighboring kingdom on the southern border. 

Short of marching to some battle or another, you’ve scarcely seen any of the kingdom beyond Greymont. And while you love your home, there is so much you ache for. How many scenes matching this one await you? 

To reach the Witch’s barrier you traveled southwest. You’ve been trailing the southern border for days now, having opted to take the Eastern Pass through the Felian Mountains to gain some distance. The foliage here is beautiful and bright and wilder than that of Greymont. You’re eager to travel through the Eastern Pass, even if it means freezing. 

The ground has already begun to steepen and you remain days away. You hadn’t known to expect such scale; the mountains surrounding Greymont are mighty, but few. But you welcome the change. You want nothing more than to see Nethys’ Peak up close. It looms pitch-black against the navy sky. 

So much beauty surrounds you, awaits you, and you’re never going to see it. You’re going to die when that Witch comes for you. The second she made her threats, you’d known it. 

A million steps you’ll never walk. A thousand people you’ll never meet. Countless experiences you’ll never have. 

Tears spring to your eyes unbidden as you walk closer to the river-side. Your bare feet touch something unnatural. Squinting, you make out a heap of dark clothing.

“Come to enjoy the full moon as well?” A voice drawls.

There, with arms propped upon the bank, is Agatha Harkness. She’s blanketed in water from the chest down. The long tresses of her hair float atop the water and obscure most of her form from your vision. You take a deep breath, swallowing hard.

“What are you doing?” You hiss.

“You have eyes.”

You don’t have the energy to match her at this hour, “Why?”

“The full moon is renewing for witches, realigns our power. Did you know this river is the oldest source of water in your kingdom?”

“How do you know that?”

“It’s a feeling.” Agatha says, head propped up on a hand as she tilts her head. There’s a cocky little smile playing at her lips, “Like standing at the base of a fortress and knowing that power lies behind the gates. For a big girl, anyway. Baby witches might just feel stronger, enjoy a prophetic dream or two.”

It’d be nice, you think, to sit near something so powerful and not feel small. You’d give anything to feel a lick of strength right now.

You find yourself sitting on the bank, pulling the skirt of your slip up to your thighs so it doesn’t follow your legs into the rushing water. Agatha watches you. A hand reaches out to toy with the hem of your slip. You raise a brow, but don’t smack the hand away.

The current threatens to pull you away and you only sit up to your calves. You wonder if the force of it pulls Agatha, too, but she stands steady.

“And this fortress, do proper witches have the key to it?”

“It offers enough of a boost that most take it and move on.”

“And you?”

“I could commandeer the whole damn thing if I wished.” She smirks, “But that’d upset the balance.”

“I didn’t know you were bound by anything so common.”

“Balance binds all things living and dead.”

Balance. What form of balance was in play when it came to your Mother?

You shove the thought away. The river is warm and soft, even as it pushes around you. The moon is bright; soothing you for a moment, like a hand upon the shoulder. Agatha’s hand is warm where it rests against your thigh.

“Are such places admired while clothed or is everyone like you?”

“Darling,” Agatha purrs, “there is no one like me.”

You roll your eyes.

“You are singular in how you grate on the nerves.”

She chuckles low. Her hand resting against your thigh shifts, trailing down, until it ghosts against your calf in the water. You twitch. You can’t summon the strength to shake her off. 

“Join me.” She urges.

“I’m happy just as clothed as I am now, thank you.” You say.

“I won’t let you be swept away if that’s your concern.”

“And I’m meant to trust you?”

“Witch’s vow.” Agatha reminds.

There’s something earnest in her face. Her fingers trace patterns on the back of your leg, descending to your ankle. Should you reject her, you’re not entirely sure she won’t just drag you in.

No one lingers to watch the two of you; Agatha had insisted after the first night that she was more than enough protection. The firelight is faint from the rest of the camp. If you listen, you can hear your forces laugh and jeer. Are they aware that they’re steps away from somewhere sacred?

Witch or not, you do find yourself drawn to the idea of bathing in the waters. You want to pull strength from it, too. You want your limbs to stop shaking.

“I’m not undressing.” You declare.

“Pity.”

You lift your body and slide down the bank until the water is up to your own chest. It feels a little colder for a moment, but you enjoy the bite. A collection of rocks press into your feet. There are the jagged ones, stabbing into your arch. Then, the smooth ones your feet nearly slide over.

The current unsettles your footing. You’re pushed forward until your full body collides with Agatha’s. Her arm loops around your waist within a moment.

“Careful.”

You nod, trying—and failing—to clear your mind of just how much she is pressed against you. Through the thin, wet fabric of your slip, you can feel every powerful muscle and delicious curve. You shouldn’t have come, not when you’re drowsy and not thinking clearly.

She is the enemy, you cannot desire her. You won’t.

“You made it look weak.”

“Most things are when paired against me.” She shrugs, as if the statement is not laced with extreme ego.

The silence that descends is almost nice. Agatha, you’ve found, is good at comfortable silence when she chooses to be. Granted, she’s usually focused on a conjured text, or scribbling in a notebook of her own—even still, the time with her has been surprisingly bearable.

She was cruel that first day; no doubt repayment for nearly letting her die. By the second she had returned to her normal self; teasing you one minute, asking questions you didn’t understand the next.

“This is where we’ll set the first ward.” Agatha says.

“Here? In the center of the river?” You ask.

“Higher, where it splits.”

“How?”

“So many questions. I’ll explain when we set it, tomorrow.”

You nod. The hand on your back is tracing patterns again. Against your better judgment, you relax in her arms. The water caresses you easier when you do.

You should’ve known this place had meaning when Agatha was adamant on setting camp here. She’d made an effort to take little interest in anything beyond herself—but then, a spark. An awareness she hadn’t cared to have until that moment.

Reading faces has always been easy; you’re not sure how you missed what you saw in Agatha’s. You haven’t missed anything so obvious since…

Though the water is warm, and the hands on you, too, you shiver.

She’d been so gaunt, cheeks hollow. Your Father couldn’t stand to visit, but you visited twice every morning and night. She hadn’t smiled in years by that point, but she did then; brushing a bony hand over your cheek, smiling, wistful, and murmured, “My little sun.”

When you left, something in your chest felt wrong. And when you returned in the morning she was gone.

The nausea returns tenfold. You try to push the memory of her face away, but it just won’t go. You sink your nails into your thigh but it isn’t enough. Agatha’s nails ghost over your flesh.

Agatha will have no qualms with harming you. You don’t think it will make a difference what purpose it serves, only that she can draw your blood again. 

Desire had danced in her eyes the day you were defeated, dripping blood, and it wouldn’t change now. Yet, if you ask this of her, you’ll be giving into the desire yourself. Can you, in good conscience, allow yourself this, even as a distraction? 

Time is fleeting; the weight of death that looms over your head. Should you turn away from this available source of hedonism and pleasure, then you’ll never know it. You want to know how it feels to be touched before you die. 

You want something other than your heart to ache.

“I need you to hurt me.” You demand.

Agatha’s hand stills. She flinches back, eyeing you, “Say again.”

You’ll blame the exhaustion later.

“Hurt me,” you say, “distract me.”

There’s a moment where she hesitates. Her eyes are wary, looking over you, then around.

“As you wish.”

Agatha’s hands grip the back of your thighs and pull you closer. Her nails dig in, and you whimper, knowing that if you could see it, the water will be red with your own blood. At the same time, her teeth dig into the side of your neck.

Some higher awareness reminds you that this is wrong—she’s the reason for everything terrible in your life, she’s a monster—but you don’t care. Not when her teeth distract from the nausea. Not when the soothing of her tongue chases away your misery.

One of her hands shifts to your inner thigh, tracing threatening shapes. Her hand just grazes the perfect spot between your legs. You moan, your mind screaming yes, please, touch me.

Her lips have moved to another spot on your neck, but her teeth haven’t yet come out to play. You twist your hand in the wet strands of her hair and hold Agatha in place.

“Who knew you wanted to be bruised.” She teases, voice low, “What would your people say?”

The ghost of her hand between your legs is driving you mad. You chase after it, but she pulls away each time.

“Touch me.” You demand.

“Oh, but I am, dear.” She punctuates the statement with a nip to your neck, “What is it you really want?”

“Harkness.” You grit out.

“Tell me.”

You should extract yourself from her and return to the tent. Nothing good can come from giving her this—giving her you.

But gods you want. Since the summer celebrations, you’ve ached. You remember passing rooms and hearing the sounds the other women made. You waited. With destruction on the horizon, why wait anymore?

“Fuck me.” You beg.

The answering laugh in your ear sends shivers down your spine. Agatha is everywhere, all at once. The feeling of her is euphoric.

One hand toys with you over the fabric of your slip. Deft fingers rub, feeling, but your nipples are already peaked from the combination of cold and desire. The friction draws a moan from your throat. She pinches, hard, and your hips jump, you choke out a groan.

Her lips have yet to stray from your neck. The bites she deals you are delightful, painful, on the edge of too much yet just enough, but it’s her kisses you prefer. No comparison exists for the softness of her lips, the pressure so light it almost tickles. Would they feel the same way against your own, or would they be rougher, dominating?

You shut that thought down. Kissing implies intimacy.

“Hold on to me.” Agatha murmurs.

Lacing your fingers around her neck, she gets started on the real work. Her other hand releases your waist and delves between your legs.

It takes everything in you not to come from the first touch. The touch of her is firm, knowing, as two fingers slowly work their way inside you. Her thumb ghosts over your bundle of nerves.

You’re no stranger to the power of a delightful orgasm; your own hand is a reliable companion in pleasure, but this… this is indescribable. To be touched, to be at the mercy of not knowing what she’ll do next adds another layer you could never experience on your own.

Her breath is hot on your ear, “The Good Queen, spread open beneath the moon, no better than some desperate, common urchin.”

“Fuck you.” You snarl, but roll your hips, impaling yourself further on her fingers.

“You couldn’t handle me, darling.”

You imagine the sight of Agatha Harkness beneath you, hair spread around her head, your hands firm on her throat as she squirms; the pathetic, weak noises she’d make with the little air you allow her—her eyes dark with desire so ravenous it could consume you on sight. You clench around her fingers.

“I hate you.”

Her thumb sets a brutal pressure upon your clit. You know it won’t be long before you’re coming.

“How humiliating it must be, then, to need me so much.”

Agatha’s right. Humiliation burns through you, but turns molten along the way. Her fingers continue to rub over the spot inside you that conjures lights behind your eyes. A well placed swipe to your clit and you’re done, falling over the edge.

Your fingers dig into her shoulders, something between a groan and a shriek leaving your lips. Agatha moans in your ear. Your body tightens, clenching, and you roll your hips over her hand to keep it going, even as it hurts.

Agatha’s hand on your hip stills you. You whimper into her neck when she pulls out, leaving you empty.

Face buried in her neck, you miss the way she pulls back to regard you; with moonlight and a strange look in her eyes. Her hands are gentle, free from the bite of her nails. One hand holds you against her. The other pulls through your hair, working out any knots in the strands. It’s nice. Comfortable. Which is precisely why your stomach turns as the euphoria wears off.

You tense. Agatha’s touch stills.

The rush of water is no longer intriguing, Agatha’s arms far from comfortable. What have you done?

Though you feel like you’re made of jam, you take a step back, surprised to find your feet steady on the stones below. You look Agatha in the face—you won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing you cower—and smile, the business-like smile of a Queen, despite the tears in your eyes.

“Goodnight.”

Agatha tilts her head, “Goodnight, dear.”

When you haul yourself back up onto the bank and walk as quickly as you can back to the tent, you feel her eyes on you the entire way.

--

The Captain is on her feet the second the opening of the tent allows the morning light inside, golden blade in hand. She lowers said blade at who enters, “Your Majesty.”

Agatha raises a brow at the welcome.

“I understand my wife set a meeting with you.”

Though the Captain’s blade has been lowered, she remains taut. Her eyes shift briefly to the opening of the tent. Agatha senses the suspicion lingering in her mind, though she does well to push it down—not fast enough, however.

Agatha could grin at how they lord over you, protect you as if you’re some helpless fawn in the woods. Do they not remember the goddess who led them on the battlefield, the woman who cut down dozens to reach her? You’re hardly the wide-eyed innocent they believe you to be.

No wide-eyed innocent would have begged her jailer to fuck her, for starters.

That is neither here nor there, though. Sharing such information with your forces would hardly aid your opinion toward her; not in the way she requires.

“I trust Her Majesty is well?” Thena says.

“Dealing with a small bout of sickness.” It isn’t a lie, if the evidence at your bedside was anything to go off of, “I thought it best she rest a while more.”

She’d almost blanched at your appearance when she returned to the tent. The sight of a pale, shaking woman had been the last thing she expected. For a moment, she hadn’t recognized you.

Agatha had waved her hand and cleaned the mess. Then, with a more precise hand, she placed her fingers against your forehead, digging; bright images of color she couldn’t comprehend flashed, there and away, playing out a story she couldn’t follow but could feel tormenting you. A calming brush of her own magic had returned some color to your cheeks.

Her words to the Captain ring true; if you are to be of any use while setting the wards today, you’ll require all the rest you can get.

Though suspicion still lingers, the Captain nods, “Please, sit.”

Agatha eyes the map atop the table. She notes the areas that are marked.

“What orders did she give you on the subject of extra forces?”

“She wanted as many called to service as the kingdom can spare.”

Agatha sighs. You really hadn’t been thinking in the midst of your panic, had you?

“She wants this handled quietly. Tell the battle masters to keep their soldiers sharp, but nothing more. I’ll handle a more discreet force of power.”

--

You stomp through the brush and uphill, pointedly ignoring Agatha’s put-upon sighing as she follows behind. There’s a barely-there path you follow alongside the river. It’s lined with flowers in some areas, though others find brambles pulling at your skirts.

The river is stronger the higher you trek, though you’re not sure how it’s possible. Only last night a section had threatened to sweep you away. You can only imagine what this area would do.

“Are you going to pout all day? I’d like to know how difficult this task is going to be.” Agatha drawls behind you.

“I am not pouting.”

“Oh, of course, my mistake.”

You whirl on her in a patch of chamomile flowers. Glaring down from your only-slightly-taller position, you point a finger straight at her chest.

“You had no right to go against me like that.”

Agatha raises a brow, “I think you’ll find I had every right, if that was my aim.”

“What would you call taking over my meeting and overturning my word—aid?” You scoff.

“Allowing a Queen who lost control of her faculties to attend a meeting rather than healing would go against the best interests of your kingdom. Remember those pesky things I’m bound to?”

For a moment, you had taken the loss of control comment to mean your mental faculties; the very ones that’d prompted you to fuck her in the middle of the river you now stand beside. Then you remember your bout of sickness and flush with embarrassment. When you woke up this morning to find the evidence missing, you assumed it had been imagined.

“You can’t expect me to believe you care.”

“No, but I did not spend hours bathing in moonlight to lose what I recharged so soon.”

“Is that what you call what happened?”

Agatha grins, chuckles dryly, “Ah. So that’s what this is about.”

“No.” You deny, turning to continue on your way up the incline, “Simply an observation.”

She matches pace, keeping in line with your own stride. You can see her grinning from the corner of your eye.

“Did I touch a nerve when I made you come, princess?” Agatha teases.

“Ugh!”

You throw your hands up.

The incline comes to a slow stop, leveling off. You stop and realize just how out of breath you are from the hike.

Spread before you is a quiet section of the river with two veins shooting apart. One grows choppy, running downhill fast in the direction you just came from. The other follows a lazy curve away from its sister path. 

A near-placid pool holds the water before it decides which path to take, collecting the runoff from the mountains. It is this pool that Agatha steps up next to and begins removing her layers. You growl, covering your eyes.

“I don’t care to travel back down in wet clothing, dear.”

“You have magic—just wave yourself dry.”

“And deny myself the pleasure of watching you squirm?” She laughs.

You cross your arms and pointedly look anywhere but at her. Though in your periphery you notice she’s at least kept her shift on, thin as it may be. Even the silhouette of her is enough to render you speechless. The whole of her had been pressed against you only hours ago. You clear your throat.

“Why, exactly, are you getting in?” You ask.

“Easier to call on the magic if you’re standing in the center of it.”

You nod, perching on a rock beside the water, “I do love a show.”

“You’re joining me.”

“No magic, Harkness.”

Agatha shakes her head, “Every being has a spark of magic in their blood, though it may not manifest enough to make them a true witch. Barring that, you are the heart of your kingdom. Your presence focuses the intent of the magic.”

“You speak of the magic here like a living thing. Focusing it, calling on it—what’s next, marrying it, too?”

That earns you an eye-roll. A sharp pain strikes your hip and you jump, catching the dissipating wisp of violet.

“All magic is a living thing.”

“And yours chooses to live with you… questionable.”

“It doesn’t live as we know living.”

“What of the river?” You ask, tilting your head, “You said it’s especially old. Does it live closer to our experience or further?”

“Closer. A special case.”

“How so?”

She sighs. The endless barrage of questions seems to annoy her just as much as it sates your curiosity; you smirk, pleased.

“It’s from the time of Light and Darkness and Chaos. Older than the First Coven. Chaos made this river; imbuing it with more power—thoughts and desires. Which is conveniently why we can use it for the wards.” Agatha explains, hands waving and fingers twitching. Violet flows from her fingers every now and again, forming wispy pictures of crowns and the like, “It aches to do more. To be more. My direction and your intent will give it the great purpose it craves.”

You look into the water and almost believe you can feel the magic there. A primal, ancient desire to run free and fast, but also to do more—shift, protect, live. It wants to help you, it only requires guidance.

Agatha runs her hands over and through the ripples with near-reverence. She stares into the depths like it’s whispering secrets. 

If it’ll protect your people, then you’ll do whatever is required; even if you’re convinced Agatha is making half of it up to see you in various states of undress. You shed your outer layers and embarrassment. The dress pools in a heap at your feet, which you step out of. You’re left in a similar shift to that of the night before.

Watching, Agatha licks her lips, and holds a hand up to you.

“My Lady.” She teases.

You take her hand and accept the assistance into the depths. The water is warm. You correct, “My Queen.”

She smirks.

The water laps gently at your form as Agatha leads you to the center of the pool. It comes to settle just below your breasts. The push and pull reminds you of a child tugging at your skirts.

Quiet is the air. The breezes wait, watching, eager to see their sister directed. You’re oblivious to the stillness. The water holding to you is warm, as is the hand in your own.

Agatha stops and takes your other hand, stepping back until the two of you form the shape of a full moon. She inhales deeply and you mimic the action. Then, her eyes close, and her head tilts back; baring her face to the warmth of the sun. She chants;

Chaos filia, 

Quid est quod desideres? 

Filia tenebrarum Domine, 

Quid est camena? 

Lucis filia, 

Audi me et esto usus.

Complete stillness creeps over the world. The river stops; bending, waiting; and you feel a deep tug in your abdomen. Agatha continues to chant until she cuts off rather abruptly.

There’s the buzz of magic all over your body from your connection to her. The electricity of her purple cascades over and around you. You watch as she straightens and opens her eyes. They’re dark, heavy lidded.

She steps forward. One blackened hand comes to press right above your heart. Purple dances in her eyes.

“Hear her.” Agatha urges, pressing harder.

The tug grows. Then, you hear.

Purpose! Purpose! O Mothers, what is your will? A voice asks, eager, almost childlike, Allow me use!

Agatha’s orders don’t come in the form of words, but rather, images; a solid invisible wall; the Witch and all the terrible of her, barred entry. You feel the river’s attention shift and regard you. It waits.

Intent. It wants intent.

Images flow similarly from you; your people, tired and weary, whom you ache to see safe; your friends without fear in their eyes; curious eyes and little hands that seek out your own. The river attempts to embellish, tugging and pulling at your intent. You hold tight to the images in your mind. Those are the things you crave, the things you will—you are not to be cajoled otherwise.

The Chaos is not pleased. Yet, it bends.

You do not open your eyes, but you don’t need to. In your minds eye you watch every molecule of the river light up in white, all of them racing through their paths; into streams along the border, below ground to the worms, into the fray and over the cliffside bordering the next kingdom; as they run, they dance and interlock, forming an impenetrable wall that glows purple upon full realization.

The wall pulses as if to say, are you pleased? You are. You’re very pleased.

The tugging inside you stops. On all sides, sound creeps back in, from the smallest bug to wolves in the forest. The river babbles and roars.

You’re left with a euphoric desire that nearly brings you to your knees. The lidded eyes of Agatha tell you she must feel it too. Her hand begins to trail from your chest toward the apex of your thighs. Catching her wrist, you shake your head.

Those images are still bright in your mind. They’re intimately coupled with the knowledge that Agatha poses a threat to them. Subdued and bound as she may currently be, the touch of her hand still makes you sick.

You redress beside the river and begin the descent back to camp alone, uncaring of the way your still-wet shift clings to your flesh with each step.

--

Agatha lays in the grass beside the river, letting the sun dry her. Somehow the warmth of it doesn’t truly penetrate. Her hands are cold. She’s near-shivering despite the heat of the day.

She sighs. There’s still so much to be done.

With the easiest task of the day behind her, she thinks about the one that awaits with dread. It would be a mercy to handle all of it herself. But, though she hates it, she can’t handle this new threat alone. 

Two fingers between her lips, Agatha whistles, shrill and measured.

A beat passes before Aquila appears in a cloud of black and purple smoke. She perches on the rock next to Agatha, the same that you’d been sitting on only hours ago.

Aquila tilts her head, then warbles.

“Yes, I did have a reason for calling you. Give me a moment.” Agatha huffs, but scratches affectionately at the raven’s neck.

She summons parchment and a quill upon sitting up. It hovers before her, waiting. She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.

The trust on her side is tentative, but what other option does she have? She can’t go to the Court of Crones. She’d be killed on sight by the Court of Mothers. And the last one is useless.

Had things not turned out the way they did, she wouldn’t be in this mess. They’d have to do her bidding without question. She sneers at the situation.

Aquila warbles again, impatient.

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you have more pressing engagements?” Agatha asks, “You should lay off the Greymont mice. You’re looking a little fluffy.”

That earns her a rather vicious nip of the fingers. Agatha wipes the blood off on her dress, ambivalent.

Squaring her shoulders, the quill jumps to life. She can’t put this off anymore. It moves quick, scrawling out her message;

I call on your wisdom and sisterhood. The old shrine, two days' time. Sundown.

A. Harkness

The parchment rolls itself up and finishes with her signature purple seal. It attaches to Aquila’s leg where she sits. The raven stares down at it, then up at her Mistress.

Agatha regards her, “Find Lilia. Don’t return until you do.”

--

The walk doesn’t quell what the ritual summoned in you. If anything, the time alone to think left you worse off; your shift drying, but the space between your legs wetter.

You understand the allure of magic, now. The energy that’d come off Agatha still sends shivers down your spine. What you’d give for some of that power for yourself.

You try—and fail—to find a purpose for the day. Meetings are scant and activities even more so. You attempt to read, but your vision blurs. You practice your swordsmanship but it only serves to make you warmer.

Near sundown you give the order that none are to disturb you. You shed layers down to your slip and bend over the end of the bed, fingers reaching as deep as you can manage, biting back the whines under your breath. The angle isn’t quite right, but there’s nothing to be done about it. You work your fingers hard until you squeeze around them, trying to ignore the blue eyes swimming in the back of your mind.

--

“Her Majesty was terrified, I tell you.”

Walking back in the dark, she stops behind one of the outlying tents. The words root her to the spot.

“Come on, Phillip. Her Majesty faced down an entire army without flinching.” One voice says.

“Maybe so, but whatever was in that bubble had her babbling. If I didn’t know any better I would say she went a little mad.” The original voice responds.

A third voice laughs, “I say she already is.”

This would not do.

Agatha summons her armor with a wave of her hand. It’s heavy, but familiar. It still boasts bloodstains from that final battle. Another wave and she’s sitting across from the three soldiers around their own fire. They don’t notice her at first.

“An interesting rumor.” She drawls.

All three men jump to their feet. One begins to shriek before cutting off the sound. They bow. Glancing over their minds, she can feel the primal fear in their veins. She breathes it in deep. God, she forgot how intoxicating it could be to make grown men quiver.

She really should play with the forces a little more. It’s endlessly enjoyable.

The one she recognizes as the second voice stutters, “Your Majesty, our apologies—”

Agatha waves away the apology, having no use for it.

“How many have been told of what you witnessed at the barrier?” Agatha asks.

Two of them look to a third. Ah. This is the little talker, then. He fits the bill; smaller than the other two, lackluster. She wonders if he is any good among the ranks beyond his loose lips. 

“None but us, Your Majesty.” He offers.

She rifles through his mind to find he’s telling the truth. Good. That’ll make her job much easier then.

Agatha grins, shark-like, “Let’s keep it that way, shall we?”

All three necks snap with a carefree flick of her finger.

--

She stands steps from the tent when the wave of pain hits her, forcing her to double over against a tree. It’s like lightning is rushing through her body and popping all the joints.

The scarred-over X on her palm throbs in warning.

Another wave hits. Agatha’s hands dig into the tree, cutting open the flesh. Her nails threaten to crack.

Agatha groans, then snarls under her breath, “I got the message!”

Her palm tenses once more before it all comes to a stop. She takes a long minute to curse the forces of nature before entering the tent. 

[megabuild]

bit of a ramble below! tl:dr; i have insane person problems and realised that this blog isn't healthy for me so won't be coming back until i'm in a better place, i have no intent on deleting it but may password protect it in the coming days for my own peace of mind :P love yall!

the absolute basics on my situation is that i almost certainly have OCD, have been vocal about this likelihood in the past, and while i was aware i was susceptible to obsessions and compulsions irt online interactions and my posts on here i was not actually aware of how debilitating the effect this was having on my life was until i went completely cold turkey and blocked tumblr from all my devices. like genuinely night and day. i have so much more free time when i'm not spending it constantly name searching on every platform available and scrolling through my blog over and over to be sure that i didn't post a slur by accident lol. i'd rather not get into some of the stupider details of shit ive done in the name of perceived moral purity because that's nobody's business but trust me when i say it was like a weight got lifted off my fucking shoulders lol like i was having regular delusions about making a post so bad grian himself would say i should kill myself on stream and believing it was possible 😭 really good disorder guys i love having this

i have a lot to say about the way this community treats each other, both good and bad, but i think i'd rather hold off and make more informed and thought out posts on that when i'm not still reeling from all the bullshit life's been throwing at me. i do love and value this community so much, especially all the mutuals and friends i've made here. i've also been made extremely uncomfortable in the past by the easiness that people slip into very strange relationships not just with CCs but with their fellow bloggers. including me ! and i am a relatively small blogger in the vast scheme of things. this is no hate to anyone who's sent an anon or whatever, many of you are lovely people, but it's also like, well i have been literally stalked on this blog before so i feel i have justification for being a tad uncomfortable . again, a lot to be said on the celebritification of average people and the obsession on making sure one makes "Objectively Correct" choices when doing something as simple as watching a minecraft series and having opinions on it .. but alas, no brain for it right now, and also i would rather not risk the ire of twitter teenager #48 lest i be qrted by thumbnail artists telling me to lighten up and accept the steady decay of all that is good in this sphere in order to make room for more #Content. Sit down and eat your yaoibait you stupid faggot! sorry this is a serious post ignore that part

to any of my beloved oomfies you are free to message and ask for my discord though i am also being a bit difficult to reach over there rn my bad (and i may not get back to you quickly because as soon I post this I am logging straight the fuck back out).. i have made a separate tumblr account from this one which is less social media and more a little archive of images and art i like (and also is not related to mcyt at all, outside of maybe one or two art reblogs if i see something that really catches my eye) so if we've hung out and you don't exclusively post mcyt you might see me around in your notifs but i'd prefer not to be linked back here. any projects, fics, other blogs etc. i have been working on consider on pause for eternity, with the only exclusions being 3rd life miraheze (which i'm currently looking into options for but will certainly never go away! much love still to all our contributors who have worked tirelessly through wild life to update our various spreadsheets and tables) and aoyuer which i'm sort of picking up and taking away and hitting with hammers until it's sufficiently divided from mcyt and i can call it an oc story for real. peep my toyhouse if ye are so inclined and wont tell the adoptbrained callout squads over there that my oc once upon a time was lowkey rpf.

anyway this has already gotten far too long as i'm a chronic yapper and overexplainer but thank you very much for hanging out with me and talking about these stupid ass blocks. i have a handful of posts in the queue i wont be getting rid of and don't doubt i will come back to chat more shit in future but at the end of the day i'm here to have a fun time on the computer and i just was not having that anymore. i was having a scary and fucked up time on the computer, and life is too short to put yourself through that out of some butchered sense of responsibility to the niche follower base you've cultivated. if you also have ocd delete your blog as soon as it hits 1k like actually. if you worked in the askbox mines and are now facing redundancy then go follow my enemy thecoolerliauditore. or dont im not your boss anymore. im too busy homebrewing my 3ds. smooches mwahs !!!!!!!!!

[herinsectreflection]

I have been struggling with whether or not to talk about why I've not been updating much lately. On one hand, I know I don't owe anybody anything. This is not my job, I do this for my own enjoyment and I am entitled to post as often or infrequently as I like. On the other hand, I am addicted to Explaining Things, that's why I'm planning to write 300k words about an old TV show I really like. So here, here are the reasons. I'm hoping that by writing them down my brain will stop latching onto them as sources of anxiety. 1) I got a job that I care about. I won't tell you what I do, but I will tell you that I work in a hospital. It takes a lot of mental energy, and unlike previous jobs, I no longer have the time or inclination to sneakily write essays in my downtime. Which sucks. I hate caring about the thing I'm paid for. It leaves less care for the things I'm not paid for.

2) Speaking of getting paid - I cancelled my ko-fi a few months ago. As much as I truly felt supported and humbled by the people who gave my money, I think it didn't help. Writing began to feel like something I owed the people who gave me money, rather than something I was doing because I wanted to.

3) I got into a polyamorous relationship. You ever tried to have free time while polyamorous? 'Nuff said.

4) I introduced one of my (then) partners to Buffy, and we ended up watching S3 while I was also trying to write about S3. I ended up oversaturated on S3. The most fun I had writing the earlier essays was when new ideas would hit me as I was watching. S3 doesn't feel as fresh to me, and so I don't feel eager to get to it.

5) In regards to S3, I've definitely been putting a lot of pressure on myself to say something particularly interesting and unique about it, since it is, you know, The Faith Season, and I have been branded The Faith Explainer. It's a lot of pressure for something that objectively does not matter at all. But that's anxiety disorders for you.

6) I have started new hobbies, new sports, and regular therapy. Which is all wonderful and has enriched my life, but it takes up free weekends rather quickly.

7) Speaking of therapy - you know that tweet that's like "I started new meds and now I'm not obsessed with BTS anymore"? There's a little of that going on I'm not going to lie.

8) Hyperfixations change and apparently I have not been fixating on Buffy for a little while. It's a lot easier to sink hours and hours into something when your brain has decided that that is all it wants to sink its time into.

9) I had major surgery 18 months ago and that has not not been a factor.

10) This post, I got three paragraphs into the Consequences essay and then decided to start Posting. I don't control these things.

11) ANXIETY