#the fact that we know next to basically nothing about him

[majkuindelululand]

I’m not sleeping, I swear. I’m just thinking.

Hello, my little bears. Welcome to the era of Jikook. Get comfy, because it’s going to take a while—and they’re not being kind to us. I highly recommend microwave popcorn so you don’t miss anything while slaving over a pot.

So. This happened.

Quick rundown: Jimin and Yoongi arrive at the airport, likely coming from the same place, same car. Yoongi is just standing there, casually scanning the area, giving exactly zero shits as per usual. Meanwhile, Jimin looks a little… buzzed? Not nervous per se, but kind of restless. He clearly refuses something the manager says, there’s a bit of back and forth—and he doesn’t move a step until Jungkook shows up.

What do we see next? The most awkward moment ever. And it happens so often we really should be used to it by now. I mean their handshake. You know—the one where two adult men, presumably familiar with basic social etiquette, forget how to shake hands in the most childlike way possible. Face to face, right hand to right hand, short shake—easy, right? Even my 8-year-old daughter knows that. (For the record, she saw this post, squealed, and screamed “MOM! GAYS!” She can recognize Jungkook and Jimin, but only without masks. So no, I’m not indoctrinating her. I mean, not that much.)

Instead of a normal handshake, we get some wild wrist-grabbing moment. Jimin seems convinced it's time to go, so he leads (which, not gonna lie, is kinda hot). Then they let go. Could’ve been a mistake, maybe accidental. But the confidence in Jimin’s step, those one and a half strides ahead of JK, just scream “YES, THIS IS HOW WE DO THINGS.”

Now let’s talk about the real attention-grabber: Jungkook’s nails. Painted.

Sure, we’ve seen BTS members with painted nails before. Hoseok’s was iconic. Jimin had some cute stickers during the “FACE” promo.

But I don’t recall Jungkook ever doing it.

And what stands out is the color choice. Black? Whatever. It’s a safe bet, especially with his image. But let’s talk about the blue.

1. The blue & the Polished Man campaign

I’ve seen a few posts floating around and looked into it myself. The Polished Man campaign raises awareness about the horrifying fact that 1 in 5 children experience violence. Celebs around the world paint one fingernail blue during October to support the cause. And yeah, I think the theory makes sense—but some details rule it out. First: it’s July, not October. Second: multiple nails are painted. But if this was it? JK, you sweet, pure creature. Was that your quiet way of separating yourself from that fake video of you with a woman…?

2. CK accents

This is the theory I lean toward the most. JK is spontaneous as hell. And his nails? Also look spontaneous. Kinda messy. Probably stickers? Doesn’t look like actual nail polish—and even if it is, it’s sloppily applied. Definitely not a professional manicure.

So maybe he was just somewhere, saw the polish, and went “hey, this color matches my CK hat!” (He's a brand ambassador, remember?) And there’s literally nothing else colorful in his outfit. That’s so something I’d do. I mean, that’s why I keep polish away from my desk—I’d totally paint my nails out of boredom. And I can’t wear nail polish, considering I spend 100% of my day smashing a keyboard for work as a programmer. What makes this configuration even sweeter is that it's this particular finger, and Jimin indicates blue as his favorite color...

3. A blatant attempt to scream “Jikook is real” in neon letters

Okay, listen. I genuinely think JK is the biggest Jikook shipper of us all. But seriously? I don’t think this was calculated.

More likely? JK painted his nails, and then Jimin just happened to wear that blue Dior hoodie. Or maybe they talked about it and Jimin subconsciously chose it? I really doubt Jimin sent him an outfit rundown and JK went on a hunt for the exact matching shade of blue. That would be… dumb. Especially when you remember the nail color also matches his cap. It’s way more likely Jimin picked out his hoodie after the fact—or JK matched his nails to the cap, not to Jimin.

So yeah. That’s colors handled.

Let’s circle back to that hand-holding and let me get personal for a second.

I’ve been in an on-again-off-again, slightly chaotic relationship for over a decade. That matters. What also matters is that, somewhere along the way, even when we weren’t romantic, the relationship evolved into a very stable friendship—partly because we share a kid.

It’s not simple. But one thing that’s always been meaningful over the years is... holding hands.

That might sound funny to you, but it’s kind of our theme. Not just because we missed that contact when we weren’t romantic, but because we eventually developed a whole language around it.

We’re both introverts. PDA is not our thing. I’m depressive, anxious, have social phobia so bad that after just a few days on vacation with friends, I started showing physical symptoms of stress (like getting a cold in July). People were amazed I lasted a full BBQ night without running for my room.

But my partner learned to reach for my hand. Sometimes just pinky to pinky. Sometimes a full awkward handshake from the opposite direction. Sometimes lying in bed, not even touching, but still holding hands across the sheets—him snoring, me still reading. Sometimes a fleeting squeeze in a checkout line, just to say, “I’m here. If this gets too much, you can bail.”

He learned to read my touches too. When I reach first, that’s “hey babe, it’s okay, stop worrying.” When I touch a certain way, it means “let’s find somewhere quiet, I need a hug.”

This kind of touch is instinctive, layered, powerful. There’s a reason clasped fingers symbolize love.

And Jikook? They’ve had this hand-holding thing for ages. It’s not just now. Remember the last OT7 live? That random moment where Jimin just reaches back and grabs JK’s hand out of nowhere? And JK squeezes and rubs his thumb across it?

That’s not formality. That’s comfort. That’s care.

That kind of instinctive connection doesn’t come out of nowhere.

So here’s my take:

JK’s nail color could mean something—or absolutely nothing. Maybe they joked about it, and Jimin didn’t even think when he grabbed that blue hoodie.

The hand-holding might mean more—or maybe it’s just how they walk, like always.

Jimin waiting at the airport might mean more—or maybe it’s just that his plan already included JK being there, and he got thrown off.

And let’s spare a moment of appreciation for Yoongi, who just stood there being the most Yoongi version of Yoongi to ever Yoongi.

[wikitpowers]

ash has a pet chinchilla. i repeat: ash morgenstern has a pet chinchilla. just putting that out there.

like this guy has one of these cuties who he just hangs out with :(

[exopelagic]

this election feels so hollow even though it’s likely ostensibly gonna be a good outcome. labour really just sucks fucking ass rn huh

[monstersholygrail]

The day you got a strange scholarship for Free Use City College in the mail, you honestly didn’t know what to think. You didn’t remember applying to it, you hadn’t even heard of it. The only thought that stuck out to you was giggling over the fact that the school acronym basically spelled out Fuck.

And looking into it, the school was actually real and legit. Credited everywhere in the country. You were a bit more on the cautious side so you called the school just to make sure it was actually them and not some scam. They confirmed it for you in that same call and you’d never seen a school so productive.

It was a full ride, there was no way you could pass up an offer like that. Especially not when it came with free housing too— so long as you lived on campus and very very close to the teacher’s quarters on campus. It sounded fair to you and before you knew it you were leaving your old school and saying hello to this new one.

Everything seemed perfectly normal at first. When you were moving your things in, sure the guys at the moving company and a lot of the students gave you looks. You were new, why wouldn’t they? Yet they threw a welcome party for you on the first night you arrived so you knew they liked you. And when you just so happened to stumble into bed with a hot Orc who lives just down the hall you didn’t think anything of it. Just your normal college experience.

But then… things started to get a bit strange. Your teachers began taking a specific interest in you. All of them asking about your scholarship and which one exactly it was again. You told them honestly, not understanding the gleam that would take over each and every single one of their expressions.

The first time one of your teachers came onto you was only a few weeks after you first started there. Your Fox Hybrid History Professor had asked you to stay after class, telling you he needed you to help him with his big load. You thought you had misheard him, expecting to be spending the afternoon grading papers. But when he plops you down on his desk, sliding between your thick thighs, you’re almost not fast enough to stop the sly Professor.

“Woah, what are you doing?” You ask him in alarm, despite the way your heart is nearly racing out of your chest. Your entire body very aware of the way his strong hands caress your curves.

“Just cashing in on some of the benefits we teachers get from cute students with scholarships like yourself,” he murmurs in your ear, voice as smooth as silk. Making you shiver from a mixture of anticipation and confusion.

You still don’t understand what he’s talking about at first. You read over the terms and conditions of your scholarship through and through.

But your Fox Hybrid History Professor quickly proves you wrong. Bending you over the desk with his thick cock slamming inside you, fucking into you like a beast. As if he’s been waiting for this since the day you arrived. His hand tightly wrapping around the nape of your neck as he forces you to read out of the guidelines of your scholarship.

Stopping his thrusts whenever you pause in your reading. Even if it’s just to moan or whimper. Only starting up again when you continue reading. His cock swirling around your walls and mixing up your insides. It stuffs you completely, making you feel so full that you swear he’s rearranging your guts.

“There,” he grunts out as soon as you get to the point where scholarship students must aid their teachers in any school matters that could help assist with the class or the teachers needs. “That’s, nngh, f-fucking it, sweetheart. So take it. Help a teacher out o-ah-ok?”

You’re not sure if this is what the conditions meant exactly when they added this bit in. But fuck, who were you to complain when your Professor was rutting into you so good, his girth stretching your walls perfectly to his shape. In fact, you wouldn’t complain at all as he fucks you into one orgasm after the next till he’s shooting nothing but blanks inside of you. Afterwards even granting you an extension on an essay due tomorrow.

As you walk back to your dorm on shaky legs, you think that your transfer to FUCC was absolutely, without a doubt, the right move. Best scholarship ever.

[audisive]

♪ BROOKLYN BABY. (💌) – previous part

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: the 141 believes the scot now.

tags: fluff, romance, soft!simon, you're basically their mom atp lol, bickering, there's a bet between gaz n soap, gaz secretly wants you shh, ooc characters, not proofread, price being the gentleman he is, he's seriously just watching everything unfold

       It's not always that Ghost is willing to let the 141 stay at his house for their traditions – which is just drinking beer and watching sports, really. In fact, he's always said something about his place being empty, so they always settled on someone else's. They stop asking after a year, and in turn, he stops having reasons.

It's not until Soap pops the question again when everyone else's houses are unavailable for a variety of reasons, his being that he left his faucet on and now his shitty apartment is flooded. You can only imagine the suspicion and shock when Ghost agrees (or, rather, simply grunts).

The drive is long, nothing short of 5 hours, and Soap spends the better half of it bickering with either Gaz or Ghost. He falls asleep by the next half, and when he awakes, he gawks at the lovely looking house before their car. There's two stories to it, a balcony, a front porch, and there's no doubt that there's a backyard.

Contrary to popular belief, no, it is not all black or plain at all. It's all equally surprising to them. The Brit isn't the type to care about the appearance and state of a house, usually. They do envision him in a mostly empty apartment with only a bed and a bathroom, though.

There's a delicate touch to where a rough man lives; the smell is almost heavenly when they enter the house. It's homely, the scent of newly washed sheets and lingering smell of food; there's a cat perched on the living room table that Ghost scratches the head of lovingly in a way that's so casual and natural. It's like they're at the gates of–

"Simon!" Heaven's bells ring in their ears, luring them into the doorway of the living room, and the sound of feet padding against the cold floor. There comes a soft-looking thing running into Ghost's arms, completely engulfing you.

You only notice the three familiar faces of your boyfriend's team members – though you know he considers them family if anything – when you pull away. An angel clad in only a cami top, shorts, and Simon's hand around your waist, you turn to look at the group with a surprised look on your pretty – Soap thinks that God, you're so pretty – face. "Oh, hi," you smile sweetly, obviously awkward at the silence and the staring.

"It's been a while," Ever the gentleman, the gruff voice is the first to speak up with your name uttered, the only who's actually met you – John Price. Soap is too enamored with the way you hold yourself and the fact that, holy fuck, even your name's pretty. Gaz raises a brow at the captain's greeting.

You smile once more – a genuine one now. "Nice to see you again, John."

"'S rude to stare, Johnny." Simon speaks out, a smirk under the mask. "Please excuse him, miss," Gaz adds, this beautiful man, and offers a charming smile.

"You must be Gaz," you hold your hand out, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine," Kyle forgets that a hand could be this soft and gentle, "and please, call me Kyle." He barely stops himself from turning your hand in his to kiss the back of it like one should to a lady so fair; his lieutenant has good taste in women, he'll give him that. And when you're out of the area, Soap is sure to rub it in Gaz's face. I told ye so! LT wis hidin' somethin' from us. A pretty something, that is. You don't miss the way he slips a twenty-dollar bill into the Scottish man's hand.

"Glad tae meet ye," Soap finally says, winking. "Understand why he wis hidin' a bonnie lass like ye from us." There's a mischievous glint in his eye, almost naturally so.

"A'm hurt, LT, but whit can I do? After all, we're just a couple o' brutes, arenae we?"

Simon watches in amusement, "you'll live." Soap is quick to move to your side as you lead the small group of hulking men through your shared home after that.

Simon is visibly more relaxed with you around. He's comfortable, that much is a given, with the way he's taking up most of the thankfully large couch with his manspreading. So is the 141. They're pampered like spoiled children (or pets, really) through the whole day.

Instead of just beer and faucet water, they're offered a variety of drinks in the kitchen that's enough to be considered a private bar. Instead of an empty belly unhealthily stuffed with beer and a mix of mediocre takeout, they're met with warm homecooked meals. They lose track of time quickly; the night falls by the time they've tired themselves out, and they've had not one, but two meals thanks to you.

(They're sure to commend your cooking skills and think of how lucky this tall brute of a man is blessed with a woman so soft and pliant and wonderful and– while Price is the one to be the most grateful, Soap compliments you the most. "A can practically taste the love." You laugh in turn.)

Gaz is the first to speak after a meal so lovely, they could simply just sleep on the floor comfortably and wake to the same smell of home. "It's a bit late, love, we should probably go."

"Thank you for having us," Price smiles down at you kindly.

"Ye've been lovely, bonnie." He wants to stay some more.

"Wait," you stop them, looking up at Simon for further approval. He's already looking at you with a reassuring brush of his thumb on the side of your hip and a nod. You turn your eyes back at them. "It's already late, you three should stay the night. We have enough room for everyone."

There comes, "we don't wanna intrude," then, "we can take care of ourselves, it's alright."

"Please, I insist." Your smile brightens, "I'll even cook breakfast before you leave."

The mohawk moves with a sigh, "now tha's just no' fair, lass. How are we gonna say no tae that?" You giggle. Only then do they find themselves tucked away in the guest room, and boy, you were right when you said it could fit them all if not more.

On the way to the bathroom in the late hours of the night, Soap catches a glimpse of light through the crack of your bedroom door to see his oh-so strong lieutenant, vulnerable in your arms. There's something natural about the way you cradle the large man and kiss his hair like it's part of your DNA, like you're programmed to do that 'cause Soap thinks you're simply unreal.

He's proud of his lieutenant, this lucky bastard. He turns another blind eye once more, but he's paid in full with another fulfilling meal by the morning.

[elliesanqel]

catharsis

sypnosis; after ellie had a nearly heated argument with seth over something he said about you, your best idea was to take her home, but you get caught up in the car—relieving her anger. cw; angst, smut, sub!ellie, soft dom!fem reader, oral sex, strap use (referred to as a cock), multiple orgasms, fluff, e!receiving all, not proofread, men and minors dni. a/n; can i just say a HUGE thank you for 1k on my obsessed fic, i was really not expecting it to reach that 😭💞 i love you all! basically i have ALWAYSSS wanted to write car sex—its just so hot to me so i had this specific idea💋 and im in the midst of writing lots of requests rn so they will be released soon! anyways hope you enjoy!

➝ masterlist

seth had already spat out a nasty comment your way as you walked off hand in hand with ellie. she initially tried her best to ignore the fact seth had basically told you both to leave for kissing anyway, but his next comment sent ellie off the rails and you weren’t expecting it.

a loud-mouthed dyke.

ellie let go of your hand and whipped around like someone had just thrown something at her, and her eye twitched. you watch as she walked away from you and towards seth, her finger raising to point at him, her brows knitted together. “the fuck did you just say?!” she spits out as she storms towards him, the only thing you could do was step in front of her and press your hands to her chest, holding her back.

your eyes look up at hers that were burning into seth as she never lost eye contact with him. “ellie, ellie—no!” you warn, her still moving towards seth as you spoke and had your hands on her chest, but she eventually stopped once you pressed her away firmly. her eyes finally broke from seth, falling down and inking into yours, her gaze instantly softening as soon as they met. she knew by the stern on your face that she’d better stop, especially since everyone was already staring.

before you knew it, you were hand in hand with your girlfriend, walking out of the bar, your eyes looking at hers from the side and you could practically see the steam coming from her ears. you sigh as you both walk to the car, letting go of her hand as she gets the keys from out her back pocket, unlocking the car and getting in the driver seat and you got in the passenger side.

she started the car, the engine roaring as she pulled out of the car park, driving off. the ride home was awkwardly silent—you were just in utter shock, and ellie was still very much angry. so angry that she hadnt even put her hand on your thigh while driving, which she normally did every single time—the fact that she didnt want to touch you made her anger prominent enough.

you notice ellies face, too. eyebrows knitted together, nose slightly scrunched, lips pursed and her cheeks flushed slightly, eyes narrow as they stayed on the road infront as she drove. nothing but the sound of the engine between you both, but, you decide to break the silence, feeling as though the awkwardness was swallowing you whole.

“why did you do that, ellie? we could have just walked away and ignored him.” you say, your voice low and tone soft, making sure it didnt sound like you were scolding her as you didnt want to make her more angry than she already was. she rubbed her brow, letting a sigh flow past her lips as she pouted them a little.

“well, who else was g’nna shut him up? dickhead had no right to call you that. you know i hate it when—” she says, her tone very firm, her anger obvious in her words, but you cut her off.

“i know, i know. i get it.” you sigh out, rubbing your eyes. you knew ellie was very protective of you, no matter how much of a loser she was she’d never let anyone fuck with you, she drew the line there. her hands were gripping the wheel tightly, her teeth finding her bottom lip. you found that after you’d said this, she had started to rant about it to let her anger out, but it didnt seem to work.

she rubbed her eyes with one hand as she rambled on, curses, groans and insults leaving her mouth. all this, and an idea still managed to swarm your head. how about you release her anger for her?

“he’s such a fucking—“ she rants, but you stop her by your confident words. “stop the car.” you say bluntly, with a hint of something else behind those words. her brows furrow further as she suddenly goes quiet from her rambling, her eyes meeting with yours for a split second. “huh? why?” she asks, confusion in her voice.

“pull over, ellie.” you whisper, your tone firmer now, almost seeming to stun her but she does comply, the fact that you were so strict with what you said making her pull the car over quickly and urgently. she was very much confused, parking the car on the side of the empty road. you grin to yourself, opening the glove box. “get in the backseat, baby.” you tell her.

she raises on eyebrow as she eyes your every movement, but somehow she doesnt seem to want to argue, and instead unclips her seatbelt slowly, manoeuvring into the backseat as she sits in the middle with her legs spread, seeming to get a small hint of what you were doing. especially when you were in the glovebox.

of course—ellies strap was in there.

you grab it in your hand and unclip your seatbelt, getting into the backseat. ellie reaches her arms out to you, grabbing your arms and then your hips, placing you on top of her lap as your legs rest either side of her waist. she was probably thinking you wanted her to fuck you. little did she know it wasnt like that. her hands caressed over your hips, her thumbs rubbing soft circles. “mm, y’want me to fuck you baby? right now?” she hums softly, her lips against your ear. however, you just laugh softly.

“no—you’re the one getting fucked, princess.” you grin, pressing your lips to her ear now, mimicking her own movements. you giggle to yourself as you could practically feel her smile faltering, her eyes widening and her legs spreading further. you move your head back, making eye contact with her puzzled face, your nose brushing against hers. “let me rail that anger out of you, hm?” you bite your bottom lip, watching the way her eyes pretty much fill with desperation.

she remained silent but she blinked, feeling herself getting wetter and wetter by the second, before you know it, you’d moved her to lay down and you hover over her, her jeans and boxers on the floor of the car—your skirt and panties in the same place. there was something so ironic about using ellies strap to fuck ellie with it. seems like the perfect way to go.

you strapped it on, not being able to help the moments that flush in your mind of every time ellie had fucked you senseless with this. you let the clear, veiny silicone brush against her already dripping folds, her head leans back on the car door at the first bit of contact, her eyes rolling back and her mouth opening in a silent moan.

you grin as you watch her face contort—starting to lift her shirt and move her flannel up, your lips finding her stomach. you kiss down her pretty waist, the way her stomach flattens with the sharp breaths she takes due to your soft movements, your lips pressing softer kiss on her hip bones as they arch up.

you meet with her folds, your tongue darting out to lick up her wet slit and swirl around her puffy clit. her arms lean back to grip onto the door, her hips arching up. “fuck! oh fuuuck—don’t stop. ohh, goddd…” she whines, swallowing hard as her eyes roll to the back of her head, her hips fucking themselves on your tongue.

you refused to praise her aching hole with your tongue, you wanted to save that for your cock and make her take it like a good girl. you gave her soft kitten licks, swirling your tongue over her bundle of nerves and up and down her slick heat, paying the area in particular that made her whine the most.

you could slowly feel her body shake, already teetering on the edge from your tongue on her clit, now she was sensetive wasnt she?

her hand instantly reached down to grab a fistful of your hair, fucking her pussy on your lips as she pushed your head in further. “fuuuuck baby—g’nna cu—oh god…!” she cries out, her hips grinding on your face as she fiercly cums all over your tongue. your quick to react, taking all her juices into your mouth and swallowing it up like it was flowing gold.

you pull your face out of her heat, seeing her eyes shut in ecstasy. the windows of the car had steamed up and it felt awfully hot. before ellie could even open her eyes, you had her flipped over and pulled her hips up so she was on her hands and knees on the seats, your hands curling around her hips. “you’re gonna take this like a good girl, ain’cha, princess?” you speak, voice low and seductive. you knew she was no longer angry and that you’d likely relieved her stress, but you wanted to fuck her nastily.

she bows her head, nodding quickly. “y-yes baby. shit—i—“ you instantly cut her off by rolling your hips forward, your cock completely bottoming out inside of her tight hole, which made you groan—having to stretch her needy cunt.

“uuuhhh! s—shit—“ she whines, her hand slamming against the steamy car window along with her other one, trying to steady herself as you begin moving in and out of her throbbing pussy, her ass smacking against your hips causing it to ripple as the noises echo throughout the car. any normal person driving or walking by would’ve seen the car rocking.

“s-shit…take it baby. fuuuck, your pussy is so pretty—taking my cock so well.” you whine, the friction from the strap rubbing against your untouched clit. you knew ellie loved it when you treated her like this, praising her and all—you loved it too, treating her like the queen she was. you grip her hips, although you didnt really have to—she was already pushing them backwards onto your cock as you spoke nasty words to her. her hands left two imprints on the steamy window, placing them somewhere else on the window to steady herself further, leaving two more imprints.

every time you thrusted forward, her pussy made squelching noises from her precum dripping on your cock. your hands gripped her pretty waist harder, slamming the thick silicone in and out of her needy cunt. her head arches back and strident moans fell from her throat. you were panting now, but that didnt stop you. ohhh no.

you take her hips and pull her up so her back meets with your chest and she was basically sat on your lap. a cry escapes her throat at the new angle, her body feeling overstimulated. your hands move up under her shirt, gripping both of her small breasts, giving them small squeezes which caused her to whine at your touch. “f—fucking hell—shitttt!” she whimpers out, bouncing herself on your cock. what a needy princess.

you grin, resting your chin on her shoulder as you fuck up into her, some of her hair that had fallen out of her bun stuck to her cheeks that were covered in sweat. one of her hands remained on the window, her other one came to cup your cheek. “m’close. gonna cum baby…ahhh!” her head fell back against your shoulder as she whined this—her mouth staying agape.

“thats it, thaaaats it, cum all over my cock sweetheart. doing so well f’me—mmm…” you groan, fucking up into her further as your words only egg her on, her body beginning to shake again as you repeatedly slam the tip of your cock against her spongey spot.

she shudders on your lap, and you swore you could feel her walls pulsing around you. her eyes squeeze shut, brows knitting together and with a final jolt and a slurred, whore-ish whine emitting from her throat, her cum leaks out of her pussy and all over your cock, a loud gasp following.

“ohhh my fucking god…” she sighs out, her hand slipping off the window which caused a streaky handprint, her head falling onto your shoulder. you give her breasts one last squeeze before you let go and lift her shaky body off of the silicone and she sits against the door while you crawl inbetween her legs to lay there, her hands finding your hair to play with it.

you smile contently, “feel better?” you whisper, voice croaky as you close your eyes, feeling proud. she laughs, her hands gently playing with your hair as she speaks, her tone soft and her voice quiet.

“fuck yeah. i should be pissed more often.” she kissed your hair, letting her words linger. “think we should go home, cuddle in bed. how’s that sound, princess?” you ask, looking into her eyes now.

her eyes soften at your words, looking into yours. “i’d love to, baby.”

taglist: @valeisaslut @elliesfavtoy @ttspenny @ellieswrath @willurms @slutt4ellie @stvrluvrrpres @elliescoochieeater @les4elliewilliams @eveyuyy @starwilliams @eriiwaii @vahnilla @ellieputellas @vampirq @067supremacy2 @se4ttlellie @edenspoem

[levigarden999]

flustered ۶ৎ megumi x reader

⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ theme : you are crushing on megumi , while being sure he doesn't like you back. however, things change once you see him get flustered for the first time.

⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ words : 1,6 k

⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ chars : megumi , yuji , nobara

ever since you started hanging out with yuji and nobara, the fourth guy of your small friend group caught your attention. megumi.

megumi was someone who didn’t show much emotion or compassion towards anyone, yet you still felt like he was experiencing more feelings and thoughts than anyone else. he just probably didn’t feel the need to express them to anyone and besides, he always showed his love for his friends through action rather than words.

your little crush on him wasn’t exactly subtle, at least in yuji’s or nobara’s opinion.

”you’ve planned your whole wedding together, haven’t you? names of kids too, right?” nobara teased.

”you should just tell him how you feel! megu is like the last person who’d make fun of you” yuji urged as he shook you by the shoulders.

you knew yuji was right, but you were scared nonetheless. megumi didn’t seem like the person who’d enjoy a relationship, and on top of all, he was probably the only one who didn’t realize how badly you were crushing on him.

megumi and you were currently walking through the mall, to find some gift for nobara for her birthday. yuji wasn’t with you today, since he had some sort of a meeting with your teacher, gojo.

”how about this? she’s into fashion, isn’t she?” you suggested as you picked a fashion magazine where there was a picture of some beautiful yet confident looking woman on the cover, wearing a leather jacket and shades.

megumi was standing next to you with his white button up shirt, the long sleeves rolled up to his elbows. he leaned in slightly closer to inspect the cover, which resulted shivers on your skin from the sudden close proximity you two had.

”i think it’s a little boring” he shrugged casually, with that same stoic and nearly bored tone. you tilted your head back to look at him, and you were met with his dark blue eyes staring down at you.

”you’re not helpful, megu” you huffed and threw the magazine back into the stack.

he shoved his hands into the pockets of his black slacks and sighed a little.

”how about we grab something to eat? you’re getting hangry and i can’t deal with you like that” he stated bluntly, but his voice carried nothing actually offending or angry. megumi just was like that – honest, blunt and straight forward. and it was one of the main reasons you liked him so much.

”idiot” you grumbled and pouted, a slight blush creeping on your cheeks. ”i’m not hangry”

”right. sure”

however you two decided to head to a small diner that was in the lower floor of the mall. you often visited this certain place with your friend group, since it had all sorts of snacks in their selection.

you decided to order a smoothie with a bagel, while megumi ordered a simple coffee and an omelette. on top of all, he asked the waitress to remove the tomatoes and red onion from it, meaning it was basically an omelette with only salt and pepper in it now.

you took a sip from your smoothie as you watched megumi cut his omelette into pieces. even though you and him had your quiet moments where neither of you spoke, you weren’t bothered by it. in fact, the quietness between you two was always peaceful and it felt safe.

”how about some makeup? like a lipstick or, i don’t know, eyeshadow?” you suggested next, mouth full of bagel.

megumi looked up at you, his thick lashes nearly reaching his eyebrows.

”that could do. i saw her wearing orange eyeshadow the other day” he commented, a hint of curiosity peeking into his tone.

of course he did. he fucking noticed everything.

you chuckled as you took another bite of the bagel, a few pieces of feta falling on the plate from the stuffed bagel.  there were only a few customers in the restaurant currently, all of them enjoying their meals in the red booths.

”eyeshadow palette it is, then. congrats, you’re finally helpful” you teased, a smirk playing on your lips.

megumi rolled his eyes playfully, a hint of a smirk appearing on him as well.

”i’m helpful when i feel like it”

after you two had finished your meals, the waitress came up to you again. she was an older lady with red lips and a wide friendly smile.

”so, you two are ready, i assume? any dessert for the young couple?”

at that word, you felt like your heart exploded and the blood from it rushed straight to your face and ears. you practically physically felt how your cheeks flushed with bright red and uncomfortable sweat formed inside your shirt, probably on your forehead as well.

you glanced up at megumi, assuming he would say something to the waitress since he was usually the one who handled the talking. however, it seemed like he wasn’t capable of talking either – his usually pale cheeks had pink blush plastered on them as well.

it was probably the first time ever you had seen megumi flustered. speechless, eyes wide, staring at the waitress as if he had been caught of doing something illegal.

it shocked you.

”um, n-no thanks! we’ll pay” you managed to stutter out with an awkward laugh.

the waitress nodded with a smile and left.

you turned to look at megumi, and you saw him awkwardly scratching the back of his messy raven hair.

”unless, y-you would had wanted dessert?” you tried to ask as casually as possible, silently thinking about ice cubes and winter so the hot blush on your face would disappear or at least ease down.

”no thanks. i don’t like sweet that much” megumi grumbled, the blush on his cheeks slowly disappearing. but you noticed how he was still avoiding your eye contact, as if he was afraid to face you.

megumi was flustered and awkward… around you? could this mean what you thought it could?

you had to tell nobara and yuji about this as soon as you could.

the rest of your shopping trip went normally, despite the fact your energies were now changed.

somehow it felt like there was an underlying tension between the two of you now. as you walked through the mall, the subtle space between your arms felt almost electrifying. of course, you had wanted to touch and be close to megumi for a while now, but now it felt different. as if everything about megumi’s presence was practically pulling you closer to him, as if the air around you was forcing your auras to emerge. you couldn’t understand how a single interaction with a third party member could change the situation this much.

but of course, the self doubt inside of you still wasn’t sure what this was. you didn’t know if you were just imagining things, because every time you glanced at megumi’s face, it seemed like he was just as casual and calm before. like nothing had changed after all.

but fuck, you weren’t imagining earlier when the pretty pink blush practically washed through his face. how his usually half lidded eyes were wide and he was unable to speak.

that was why you had to have a meeting with yuji and nobara alone, asap.

later that same night you fell onto your bed and texted the two to come into your dorm right away. both of them knew what it was about, since you told them not to invite megumi.

nobara and yuji crashed into your dorm the second you opened the door for them.

yuji jumped onto your bed and immediately sprawled his limbs cockily, while nobara grabbed one of his legs and yanked him down on the floor with a thump.

”get off, idiot!” she exclaimed and took his place. 

”ouch! you could’ve killed me!” yuji whined from the floor, rubbing the back of his head with a pouty look.

”cry about it” nobara smirked and crossed her arms.

you snickered as you closed the door, not even a tiny bit surprised by the way they acted.

once the atmosphere had calmed down, you explained them the whole thing that happened back in the diner, all the way from megumi’s blushing to the energy change between the two of you.

”he blushed?!” nobara practically screamed, big eyes blinking from disbelief. you nodded.

”furiously” you confirmed.

she and yuji glanced at each other, both equally dumbfounded as if they had heard something life changing. to be honest, it was life changing.

”i’ve never seen the dude blushing, seriously. the last time i even saw him smile was when he petted his divine dogs and that happened like, what, two weeks ago?” yuji continued.

you remembered that sight very well, as well. megumi crouched down, smiling gently as his large hands rubbed the soft fur of his dear dogs.

”exactly! so the conclusion is that he’s crazy about you, girl. that’s no coincidence!” nobara said proudly.

you blushed a little and sighed, still not convinced by them. ”i don’t know, it could just be that he’s awkward in situations like that where girls are mentioned. like, he’s not used to thinking about relationships and all that” you tried to reason, with a desperate tone.

nobara immediately laughed and shook her head. ”nope, that’s not true. i witnessed first hand when megumi was asked about his type in women, and he was completely cool and unbothered by the question. it’s just you, girl, who’s making him flustered” she smirked knowingly.

you bit your lip in thought, and a glimpse of hope swelled in your chest. could it really be that megumi would like you back? seriously?

a couple hours later when you tried to get sleep, the thoughts of megumi lingered in your mind. the depth of blue in his soft yet stoic eyes, his perfect sharp nose and those long, boney fingers. it all drove you nearly insane, your heart almost bursting to the idea of having him here next to you. his fresh, clean natural scent brought you so much comfort you couldn’t even explain it. if only, you’d have a chance to somehow confront him without actually exposing your feelings for him.

though, little did you know, nobara and yuji as mischievous bastards, were planning to set you and megumi up.

part 2 here 𐙚

[christofairy1003]

How he'd use his mouth on you// Chris (Lipstopher) Bang

ㅤꨄ︎ explicit content. Minors dni please thank you.

ㅤꨄ︎ English isn't my first language so l apologize for any mistakes or typos <3

ㅤꨄ︎ warning: sexual content, mostly and basically oral (F receiving)

- in all the right ways. and I can just say only that and post it as it is.

- no but really. just like he does with his fingers (see previous post), he STUDIES you and what you love. And he ain’t playing when it comes to loving you right. In fact, if you know him more than 5 minutes, you’d know he doesn’t do anything if he isn’t passionate about it. Thats why he’s PERFECT (I am not biased, I promise).

-Starting from sweet words, to sweet kisses to sweet orgasms he’d rip from you over and over again with that mouth.

- we all have seen how precise his words are when he speaks about things/people he loves. That’s gonna make you fall in love every time he only parts his lips to say anything.

- could melt you with his sweet praises like an ice cream on a hot summer day in Australia.

- even unintentional ones like, “Need help with that, little one?”

- or when you come home from work/school/whatever business, and you need comfort, babe he’s gonna sweet talk you so softly you’ll be throwing chairs in the air and pulling out every single hair from your head.

- uses nicknames like: love, little one (these two confirmed), babygirl (also confirmed), baby, sweets, sweet thing, little thing, pretty thing, thing thing thing… and honestly? You’re already on your knees giving him a tutorial on how to tie your hair up. From his words only.

- of course his other side (the evil tease that does the complete opposite of making you wanna keep him in your arms and rather in some other parts of your body ;)) will call you names like “dirty/filthy/greedy little thing, princess…)

- I don’t see him using degrading names unless you tell him you have this kink (“I’ll fulfill all your fantasies” was a promise so he gonna keep it)

- but yeah, I see him as a very soft Dom, so most of the time he just praises you on how good you’re being for him, how good you’re taking him, how pretty you look when you come for him, etc…

- (Really depends on the situation and the mood between you too cuz if you start misbehaving and testing him, he ain’t gonna keep fucking around about it. He either lets you be and gives you the silent treatment, or teaching you a lesson, and that’s where degradation MIGHT take place. But only very rarely.)

- anyways, mouth. Right.

- have you seen his lips? I bet you did. Have you seen anything else besides them? I doubt it. Don’t ask the color of anything I’m busy staring at the most beautiful pair of lips ever.

- just as I said about the hands, the same goes here with his his pink, plump, slightly chapped (you’re gonna take care of it anyways), kissable lips.

- FOREHEAD KISSES. Just take your time and imagine him randomly coming up to you and places a gentle, comforting kiss on your forehead, or the top of your head if you’re busy and he doesn’t wanna interrupt you but has to have some sort of connection, even if it’s just for a second.

- and of course you wouldn’t be able to resist him and just keep doing your business after he “innocently” leaves a kiss on your forehead. But that’s just up to you what to do next.

- kisses your lips with such delicacy that you never get enough of it.

- would take him two seconds and one brush of his lips against your own to turn it into a hot makeout session that lasts as long as you two can last without breathing.

- DEFINITELY MOANS INTO YOUR MOUTH. UH.

- but if he’s all soft and cuddly? It’s over for you. Cause no matter how hot the kisses get when you two are needy, nothing compares to those chaste, gentle, mfing addictive-sweet-soft kisses.

- first he’d be a blushing mess cause the tip of his nose brushing against yours, and then he’s probably taking your hands and intertwining your fingers together before he lays you down on the bed or like gently pushes you against something. Like, a wall, a kitchen counter, a couch…

- and it’s all so pure and makes you feel so so so in loveeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Fuck. (Him).

- so when his lips touch your own, your breath hitches cause it’s an ethereal feeling. He literally takes your breath away, and then cups your face with one hand as the other still intertwined with yours…

- or he just holds your neck and caresses your jaw with his thumb ever so slightly as if he’s trying to not hurt you with his touch.

- but yeah anyways, makes you lose your mind over the sweetest kisses ever.

- A sucker for taking your bottom lip between his teeth and dragging it oh so gently, so careful with it.

- ugh, NECK KISSES too. Such a weakness. Goes for both of you cause well, idk if there’s anyone out there who doesn’t like neck kisses but HIS? Are addictive. Nothing less than that. Will practically have you begging for him to press his majestic lips to your neck every. Time. You. Look. At. Them. No cuz, they’re so inviting wtf.

- loves tugging at your hair so he can pull your head back just slightly enough to expose your delicious neck (he’s a wolf and that’s his favorite meal ok?)

- There’s not one spot he’d leave unkissed.

- the amount of pressure he puts on your neck depends on the mood. And that’s basically his way of telling you either, “I’m horny” or “I’m too tired but never for this”.

- and if he’s horny, he’d start by using some teeth as well, nibbling and tugging at your flesh just slightly, not enough to hurt you, but enough to signal you that he WANTS you now. His tongue swipes over the area he bites on to make sure he’s not hurting you. But generally, when he’s needy, his kisses are more open mouthed, wet and full of sounds.

- he grunts and groans and moans and saying your name and how delicious and pretty you are whenever he leaves a trail of wet, yet loving kisses.

- and they ARE loving, do not think he’s only beasty when he needs you. He makes sure you feel his love through his actions since he hates getting flustered in front of you.

- he’s just a little hungry wolf who loves your neck, and collar bones.

- which brings us to this…

- hickeys.

- you cannot convince me he doesn’t LOVEEE having you all covered up in red. Again, not beasty, just enough and consensual.

- loves loves loves when you moan his name as he makes another hickey on your neck. You can tell just how much he’s willing to sell his soul just to have you all covered up in his art by his grin.

- would be so proud of himself at the end, if there is an end to this cause you always let him mark you all over again and he’d gladly skip his genshin hours just to love you right with his mouth.

- also hickeys on your breasts. Makes him hard so much faster when you let him do that, while he’s massaging the other one and then does the same in the same spot. (He can’t stand asymmetrical/uneven things such as marks only on one of your breasts and not ruin the other as well :))

- he’s also addicted to the feeling of your fingers in his hair, tugging and pulling whenever he does his business with different body parts of yours <3

- going lower from your breasts, his lips NEVER leave your skin. Like, that man is addicted and he’s not letting go.

- so just imagine what happens when you’re finally pregnant with his baby, how softly he’d kiss all over your rounded belly. Gosh. Heavy sigh. I need that.

- no matter your size, your skin condition, your whatever insecurities you have with your body, he’s here to make you feel perfect. And he’s gonna work his mouth until you admit it yourself.

- whispers praises about how pretty and perfect your skin feels under his lips, and would basically kiss all your insecurities away.

- and he might be one to kiss your ankles when he’s folding you in half and takes you like he claims you over and over again, but that’s controversial. Hehe.

- anyways, moving lower to the best part.

- absolutely and definitely obsessed with inner thighs. Look at him.

- he’d be drunk on the soft flesh of your inner thighs like he’d never be on soju or any other motivation drink.

- HES A SUCKER FOR HICKEYS THERE TOO.

- like you can tug at his hair all you want but you’re already a writhing mess once he’s got his teeth around small parts of your flesh and he sucks on it like he’d go mad if he doesn’t mark you even more.

- “so pretty and mine, yeah?”

- “all mine to mark, all mine to love.”

- fuck off cause if he says he’s not possessive he’s LYING.

- slowly making his way all the way up to your heat, teasingly as always.

- “can i?” Is what he’s gonna ask before fucking your brains out with his mouth.

- gets rid of your panties in the speed of light cause the man is HUNGRY. He wants his meal and you can’t let him skip any meals right? Gotta take care of him.

- now listen to me when I say he does the next thing like his life depends on it. Like his own pleasure and pride depend on it. And it does, in some way.

- loves how you squirm and get all shy but he keeps your thighs open before he dives in.

- starting off with little licks around your already extremely sensitive clit. You’re tugging at his hair or smtg, idk, going insane probably cause baby, he’s a pro.

- (cmon, he didn’t record himself gulping that bloody protein drink in one shot + the sound for innocent purposes. Nobody gives a fuck about the PROTEIN DRINK CHRIS. And he knows it damn well.)

- ok! So, we have him teasing you, and when that part is over, you see stars. The moon, mars, Jupiter, they’re all in front of your eyes that are rolling back wonderfully now that you pull even harder at his hair (careful with that tho)

- safe to say it turns him on even more when you do that, as long as you don’t leave him bald after this round…

- he moans against your folds. His tongue hot and wet and dragging up your sticky folds like it’s his mission and someone told him he can’t do it right. So he gives his all.

- “that’s right, baby. Feels good, yeah?”

- HIS VOICE IS MUFFLED CAUSE HES BUSY EATING.

- slurping and collecting all that wetness you make for him, only for him. He’s drinks you like that protein drink hahahaha no. Even better than that.

- EYE CONTACT all the way. Doesn’t break it even for a second. Remember? He needs to study you, and even after a while together when you know each other well, he’d still keep staring into your soul while taking it out of you.

- stops when you look away, same thing when he fingers you. Cause, eh, just a little sucker for that connection when he’s breaking you. Thats just his way to say he loves you, through the eyes.

- he savors every inch of you and flicks his tongue in all the right places that make your tones get even higher (what would you expect from a musician after all?)

- in moments like this, you thank the heavens for making him a people’s pleaser. And he’s not gonna do anything other than that. He’s here to please every cell of your body and release very oxytocin molecule in your brain until your thighs are closing around his head and you beg him to stop :)

- that’s just his pride. His smile afterwards says it all.

- his smile, and the way he’s catching his breath cause he just ate you out like you’re his favorite breakfast, lunch, dinner and dessert altogether.

- would let your legs shake and watch him lick his lips after finishing his delicious 3 star Michelin meal

- “fuck, baby… I’d do that all day if you let me.”

- “fuck, you did so well for me, my sweet girl.”

- “look at you dripping and shaking for me. you came so hard, didn’t you?” While caressing your face in a comforting way. “Yeah, you did. Such a good fucking girl. Fuck… all mine.”

- anyways, as I’ve said in the beginning. He uses his mouth only in the right ways. Whether it’s to wreck you with his words, his pretty accent, or with his tongue, teeth and lips. Either way, he manages to wreck you.

[jyoongim]

THE WAY U WRITE THE OLD RED DEMON MAN IS JUST SO NEKEKDKEOWB

Might I just add onto the seemingly continuous alastor requests. I'd love to see Alastor x Reader where reader is in heat and Al finds it pathetic but takes pity on them and helps anyway bc like poor thing can't even get their own instincts in control they're obviously hopeless

warnings: 18+!!!NSFW

You thought when you died you would be rid of hormones.

Periods were a pain while living, but this is was worst.

When you were alive, your periods plagued you with mood swings, random cravings, and pain.

Now that you were dead, you didn’t experience the dreadful red flood and raging mood swings; no. Now all you felt was unbelievably horny and needy.

And you hated it.

You usually carried yourself with confidence and elegance.

You usually liked to help around the hotel and were generally friendly with everyone.

You grimaced as you woke up to feel just how drenched your panties were. I really need to stock up on new underwear you thought as you tossed the ruined panties into the hamper.

You usually spent your heats alone and could hide in a hole until you felt normal again. You usually could control yourself well enough til you had enough free time to ease the tension between your legs.

Or until you found a poor sinner.

Weeeeellll that was hard when you lived in a hotel with a ton of shit to do. You really didn’t want to hear Angel’s jabs as you dragged some unfortunate soul to endear your sex rage.

You sighed, hopefully you could get through the next few days without embarrassing yourself completely.

So far so good you thought as you went about your day doing whatever activity Charlie had you do with the group.

Every touch and scent didn’t send your cunt into a tingling frenzy; yes you had to change your panties a few times but nothing crazy.

That was until you were around Alastor.

Your body practically buzzed whenever the tall red demon was in your vicinity.

You first chalked it up to that it was because you did found him attractive and simply thought it would go away.

But your cunt begged a differ.

You squirmed a bit on the couch as Alastor took a seat beside you, clenching your thighs to ease the uncomfortable throbbing.

It didn’t help that he smelled amazing.

Alastor smelled like evergreens how y’all ever smelled Christmas pine??? That shit is delicious!!!!

And you didn’t realized you had took a deep inhale of him until he turned to you

”Is everything alright my dear?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

fuck how were you going to tell him you wanted to bury your nose into his neck and just SNIFF? 

“O-oh I’m f-fine…i-its just you smelled nice?” You wanted to facepalm.

He blinked at you before letting out a laugh “OOooh why thank you my dear” that shit eating grin widened, voice dropping a slight octave“I must smell very enticing if you’re sniffing at me” his eyes narrowed slightly.

A shiver ran through your body and you swear you were leaking through onto the couch. You wanted to die of embarrassment.

“I-I just never noticed before that’s all” You said shrugging, trying to ignore the fact that his very voice was affecting you.

Charlie had ended whatever the hell you were doing and you quickly made your way to your room, causing some confusion.

You were usually a social butterfly with the gang. You never not chat away with Angel as he told the wild shit he did on set.

“Has got to be that time of the month” Angel commented as you almost sprinted out the room. Charlie and Vaggie gave confused looks ”what?” He sighed “You know…” nope not a clue.

”She was a human remember? Every so often her pussy basically shreds itself to bits”

Charlie gasped “So she’s hurt? Shouldn’t we do something?” Angel laughed,shaking his head “Nah we can’t help. But she'll be fine. Just give her a few days and she'll be normal again”

Alastor was in the background listening, the smile on his face sharpened, you weren’t hurt or bleeding, but there was definitely something that could be done.

You snarled as your vibrator died and tossed it. You groaned as your clit continued to throb. You had thought four orgasms would have did the trick but nope you still had the irritating itch.

You didn’t own a dildo because it was pointless.

it wasn’t the real thing.

You wanted to cry. This was your first heat while you’ve been at the hotel and you didn’t just want to drag a stranger here.

You had more control than that.

At least that’s what you thought.

You had locked yourself in your room as you tore your room to bits. The walls were shredded, pillows and sheets drenched in slick and your poor toy was in pieces.

Panting, you curled in a corner and tugged at your hair, squeezing your eyes tight as tears began to pool in your eyes.

You hated this.

 You hated how it felt like you didn’t even feel like yourself. 

Hated that you couldn’t even control your own damn bodily function.

Hated how your body desperately wanted to be filled.

You would give anything to make this horrid feat of yours go away.

“I would have never thought to see you in such a state my dear”

You froze at the voice and jerked your head to the source.

Alastor.

He was standing at the entrance of your bedroom, a smirk on his face as he took in the state of your room.

”I must say, it. Is rather entertaining to see your lack of control” he said as he approached your curled form.

He crouched down, feigning a concerned look before a clawed hand seized your hair and wrenched your face til your noses were bumping against each other.

”did you think I couldn’t smell you?” He growled “You smell just like a bitch in heat”

You whimpered as his lips ghosted over yours “I-I’m sorry”

His scent was surrounding you. It was a drug. Assaulting your every nerve with each breath you took.

He smelled so good 

please

”Please” you whispered as your cunt buzzed, tingling from his clos proximity and in hopes he would have mercy on you.

Alastor sucked his teeth at you. What a pitiful thing you were…

With a deep breathe, he stood and walked over to your ruined bed and sat. You watched as he sat his mic down and removed his coat. Yanking at his tie, he unbuttoned his shirt and looked over at you with narrowed eyes “Well? Do you want to continue to ruin your furnishings or do you wish to satisfy that brazen desire of yours?”

He widened his legs and your eyes honed in on how he unbuckled his pants.

Your throat tightened and you found yourself crawling over to him, no regard that you were naked.

Kneeling between his legs, your hands soothed up his thighs as your rubbed your head against his crotch.

Alastor lifted your chin for your eyes to meet his. Your eyes were blown out and you winced as his grip tightened.

”I pity you my dear, reduced to wanton whore, but don’t fret…Ill help you through your heat” a thumb ran over your pouty lip.

Your cunt clenched around nothing at his words.

You damn near drooled as he adjusted himself to pull his cock free from its restraints.

It was big, in both length and girth. It slapped against your face, causing you to hum at the weight of it.

You nuzzled it, nose gliding along his length before softly pressing kissed along it. When you came to his mushroom tip, you didn’t hesitate to suck at it. Alastor sighed as you gave the head of his cock kitten licks.

Head clouded with desire, you slowly bobbed your head along his length, taking him whole as you gagged once you reached the hilt.

You eased him out your throat and with a sickening pop, you admired as his spit-covered cock shined. You opted to jerk him off slowly as you buried your nose in his ball, inhaling his scent.

Alastor’s hand found your hair and guided you away from his cock, bringing you to climb up his body, until your smoldering heat was rubbing against his cock as he pressed kisses to your shoulder and neck. A gasp tore from your throat as he nipped at your jaw.

”On fours my dear”

Clumsily, you scrambled to follow his instruction. You must not have been to his liking because he pressed your head til your cheek was flat to the bed, back in a deep low arch, thighs pressed to your stomach and spreaded wide with your ass and cunt exposed to the air. 

You would have blushed in embarrassment if you weren’t so turned on.

A hand glided down your back, causing you to shiver and then jolt as a harsh slap was planted on your ass, before it soothed over the burning cheek.

Alastor kneaded your ass before sliding his fingers down to your cunt.

Your slit was swollen and your clit, puffy with need. 

You were dripping.

He dipped a finger inside you, testing how wet you were.

Soppy. 

He added a second, your cunt greedily welcomed his fingers with ease, giving into resistance.

He chuckled “What a greedy cunt, sucking in my fingers like a cock”

You whined when he took his fingers out, already missing the feel of something inside you.

Alastor took his cock and rubbed it against your cunt, coating himself in your slick.

”I am going to fuck you to your little sinful heart desires and you are going to be grateful of everything I give you. You are going to take every bit of my cum until it spills from this cunt and then again and again until I have bred you so thoroughly. Do you understand slut?”

You were breathing heavily, trembling in excitement.

With a single, sharp thrust he filled your cunt, earning a soft cry from you.

”Do you understand?”he hissed through clenched teeth.

”Y-Yes A-Alastor”. you whimpered, eyes clenched shut in pleasure.

”Good girl”

He drew back and thrusted into you again

And again

And again

He had set a slow, but rough pace. Thrusting his cock deep into the soft warmth of your cunt with each drag.

Soft moans filled the air as he buried his cock inside you.

It felt so good. 

He reached depths your finger couldn’t quite reach.

And it was amazing.

”A-Ala-stor Aah! Aaah! Hah!” You pushed your hips against his, mewling loudly as he grinned his cock into you.

”Youre pathetic ” He laughed, eyes watching his cock disappeared inside you, giving you a hard thrust at his words.

”Nothing but pathetic slut who can’t control their own body”

His grip on your hips pulled you flushed against him, making you take him til his balls was nestled against your slit.

”You probably would have spreaded your legs for any poor sinner, just wanting to be fucked dumb” Your body rippled as his thrusts got harder.

Your cunt only got wetter.

He noticed as he seemed to sink even deeper into you, as if your cunt loosened to welcome him

”oh? I bet you would have liked that wouldn’t you? So out of sorts with need that you would have just anyone bred this cunt”

He growled at the squelching noises from your cunt, you shook your head in denial.

No. No you wouldn’t haven’t done something like that.

”N-no I-I wouldn’t-” You cried out as his finger ghosted over your swollen clit.

”You would have been happy to bend over and offer your cunt to anyone, as long as you had a cock fill you” Alastor continued before a cruel, deep laugh erupted from him

”But instead you sought me out. I had no intention in satisfying you, but what a gentleman would i had been if I ignored a lady in need?” You felt him lean over, hips never missing a beat as he sunk his teeth into your shoulder.

”Oooh how fortunate you are my dear”

You were suddenly flipped onto your back. Hair sprawled around you like a halo, your chest heaving as he pushed your knees to your chin. 

Your lidded eyes watching as he slide his cock between your pussy lips, bumping your clit. He grabbed your wrists, using them as leverage as he thrusted back into you, the new angle making your throw your head back with a broken cry

”FuuuuuUccckk Ah Ah AH!” His hips dug into the underside of your ass as he pounded your cunt.

Alastor hadn’t lost composure the entire time he fucked you.

He watched as you fell apart, your hips wiggling to accommodate to his harsh administrations.

Your cunt took him so good. A white, creamy ring formed at his base as he scraped against that sponges nerve inside you.

You welcomed him gratefully. Letting him wrench pleasurable sounds from your pretty lips.

Pushing your raised legs apart, he lowered his weight on you as he slammed his lips on yours, swallowing your moans. Your tongues danced as he rocked into your body.

The sounds of him ruining your cunt pushed him to fulfill your primal desire.

You felt that familiar blaze of heat take over your body as Alastor fucked short rapid thrusts into you.

Every brush of his abdomen against your clit had your cunt going haywire.

You were going to cum.

Alastor was going to make you cum.

You moaned at the thought

You were gonna cum on his cock

And he was gonna breed you

Breed your soppy cunt

and you were going to let him

”please….” You whined into his mouth

Fuck the very thought had your body buzzing.

”please what?” he purred

Your head was reeling, foggy with the need to be filled.

A hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing

“What are you begging me for slut? Hmm?” His strokes were hitting harder and deeper.

”You want me to breed your cunt? You want to me to fill you up so good that all you’ll ever think is how my cum belongs inside you? What do the little slut want?”

Yes you wanted all of it.

You wanted him to fuck you so good, you wouldn’t even think of wanting another cock from his.

You wanted him to fill your cunt to the brim and then fuck it back inside.

You wanted him to breed you like the little slut you were.

To breed you til he had his fill.

Your instincts had practically took over, fuck sanity.

”Mhmm! I want it. I want you to Ah! I want you to fill me with your cum! Please please breed me Alastor” You whined, feeling your belly clench as your orgasm hung over you, promising sweet relief.

The hand around your throat, tightened causing you to gasp as he spoke into your ear, voice deep and purring

”Youre gonna make yourself cum on my cock slut”

your hand flew to your clit to flick fast circles on the bud.

Alastor’s thrusts quickened, growls pouring from his lips

”Who’s a filthy little slut?”

”M-Me”

”Whos a pathetic slut that’s gonna take my cum?”

”Me!”

”Fucking slut gonna let be breed her dumb”

A sob tore from you as your orgasm washed over you, he fucked you as you milked him, hips angled to thrusts so deep you’re sure your cunt had molded into the shape of his cock

”hah hah aaah fuuucckk fuck fuck Al-Alastor!”

You saw white as your mouth opened in a silent scream only for him to swallow the whine in your throat.

”That’s it you pathetic slut take it. Take my cum. That’s a good girl. Let me breed this sweet cunt cher” your hips raised as he sunk into you and with a deep groan, he cummed into your spasming cunt, making sure to thrust deep enough he hit your cervix as he painted your walls white.

Whether conscious or by instinct, you gave him a ditzy smile, eyes glazed over as you slowly rubbed your clit, whimpering. Holding eye contact with him, a soft pout graced your lips

“Again”

You truly were a pathetic, needy little thing.

But don’t worry pretty Doe, Alastor’s going to make sure you

satisfied and stuffed to your heart’s content

 It was going to be very interesting for the next 36 hours…

@markster666 @alastorsfawn @senseichaos @alastoralltruist @dasimp777 @imgonnadielaughing-blog @thewinchestah @strawberrypimp666 @tpks @stygianoir @polytheatrix @prosciuttosblog @angelltheninth @peachedtv @yourdoorisunlocked @kiralaufeyson84

[cameronsbabydoll]

BASIC TRAINING — CHAPTER FOURTEEN

WARNINGS — Public fingering, exhibitionism, dirty talk, daddy kink, possessive behavior, power imbalance, emotional intensity, references to sexual content, 18+ only.

You’re not sure how Rafe pulled it off, getting you off base without your dad’s men tailing you, but he did. The truck’s engine rumbles low as you speed down a backroad, the military base shrinking in the rearview mirror, its concrete walls and watchtowers fading into the golden haze of late afternoon. You’re in the passenger seat, your sundress hiked up just enough to show the bruises on your thighs—Rafe’s marks, left from last night’s war-like claiming in his bunk. His dog tags glint under his open jacket, and he’s got one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your knee, his thumb brushing lazy circles that make your skin hum.

“You look good out here, sunshine,” he says, his voice low, smug, his eyes flicking to you with that possessive glint that makes your stomach flip. “Better than in that cage of a base.”

You smile, small and shy, because you feel it—free, for the first time in weeks, like you’re not the Captain’s daughter, not the good girl sneaking around, just his. “Where are we going?” you ask, your voice soft, your fingers playing with the hem of your dress.

He grins, sharp and boyish, and it’s the kind of grin that makes you forget he’s dangerous, forget he’s got a reassignment order hanging over his head. “Gonna spoil you today,” he says. “Show you off. Make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

Your cheeks warm, and you duck your head, because you’re still not used to this—to him, to the way he claims you like it’s a fact, like the world has to bend to it. But you love it, the way he makes you feel wanted, ruined, his.

He takes you to a small-town boutique first, the kind with lace curtains and a bell that jingles when you walk in. The saleswoman glances at Rafe’s broad shoulders, his dog tags, his easy swagger, and then at you, trailing behind, your sandals soft on the hardwood. He doesn’t let you browse long. He’s picking out dresses—silky, short, nothing like the modest sundresses your dad approves of—holding them up to you like he’s picturing you in them, his eyes dark and hungry.

“Try this one,” he says, handing you a red dress, low-cut and tight, the kind you’d never dare wear on base. You hesitate, but his hand brushes your lower back, guiding you to the dressing room, and you can’t say no, not when he’s looking at you like that.

When you step out, the dress clinging to your curves, your thighs still marked from last night, he lets out a low whistle, his eyes raking over you. “Fuck, sunshine,” he murmurs, stepping close, his hands sliding to your hips. “You’re gonna kill me in that.”

The saleswoman coughs, polite but pointed, and you blush, but Rafe just smirks, pulling out a wad of cash. “We’re taking it,” he says, not even looking at her. “And those.” He points to a pile of dresses, skirts, and tops he’s already picked out, not caring about the price, not caring about anything but you.

You leave with bags full of clothes you’d never have bought yourself, your heart racing, because he’s spoiling you, dressing you up like you’re his doll, his prize. It’s indulgent, possessive, and you feel ruined in the best way, like every piece of you belongs to him now.

Dinner’s next, at a diner with checkered floors and neon signs, the kind of place that smells like burgers and nostalgia. He slides into a booth, pulling you onto his lap instead of letting you sit across from him, his arm around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. The waitress raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, just takes your order—milkshakes and fries, his hand never leaving your thigh.

“Strawberry,” you say when she asks, and Rafe chuckles, his lips brushing your ear.

“Good choice, baby,” he says, voice low, and you shiver, because it’s not just about the milkshake. He’s showing you off, his hand possessive on your leg, his body claiming you in front of everyone—the waitress, the other diners, the old couple in the corner who keep glancing over, whispering.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmurs, his fingers tracing patterns on your thigh, creeping higher under the table. “Everyone knowing you’re mine.”

You nod, your breath hitching, because you do, even if it makes your cheeks burn, even if you hear the whispers—“That’s her, the Captain’s kid,” “Cameron’s got her wrapped around his finger.”You sip your milkshake when it arrives, the cold sweet on your tongue, and Rafe watches, his eyes soft but smug, like he’s proud of you, proud of this.

After dinner, he takes you strawberry picking in a field just outside town, the sun low, painting everything gold. You’re laughing, your new dress swaying as you bend to pick berries, your fingers stained red. Rafe’s behind you, his hands on your hips, pulling you against him when no one’s looking, his lips brushing your neck. “You’re so fucking pretty,” he says, voice low and reverent, like he’s worshipping you in the middle of the field. “My girl.”

You’re dizzy, love-struck, your heart so full it hurts. You feed him a strawberry, your fingers brushing his lips, and he bites it slow, deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. It’s romantic, softer than you expected, and you think maybe this is it—maybe he’s more than the rough, possessive soldier who marks you up in bunks and sheds.

But then you’re back in his truck, parked at a drive-thru for late-night coffee, and he’s pulling you onto his lap, your dress riding up, his hands rough and impatient. The windows are cracked, the neon glow of the drive-thru sign casting shadows across his face, and you’re trembling, because you know what’s coming.

“Spread your legs, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low, filthy, his hand already sliding under your dress, pushing your panties aside. “Gonna make you feel good.”

“Rafe,” you whisper, your voice shaking, your hands gripping his shoulders. “Someone might see.”

“Let ‘em,” he says, smug and unyielding, his fingers slipping inside you, slow and deliberate, making you gasp. “Let ‘em see how you’re mine, sunshine. Let ‘em know what Daddy does to you.”

You whimper, your head falling against his shoulder, because that word—Daddy,

it does something to you, makes you melt, makes you his. His fingers move, curling, pumping, and you’re wet, so wet, the sound obscene in the quiet of the truck. The drive-thru worker’s voice crackles through the speaker, asking for your order, and Rafe leans forward, one hand still working you, the other reaching for the mic.

“Two coffees, black,” he says, calm as anything, while his fingers fuck you, slow and deep, his thumb circling your clit. You bite your lip, trying to stay quiet, but it’s hard, so hard, with his hand between your legs, his breath hot on your neck.

“Rafe,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper, your nails digging into his arm. “They’ll hear—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear, his voice dripping with that possessive, indulgent edge. “Be a good girl for Daddy. Keep it quiet.”

You try, you do, but it’s overwhelming, the way he’s touching you, the way he’s claiming you in public, with the drive-thru worker just feet away, the line of cars behind you. You’re shaking, your body tensing, and he knows, because he’s smirking, his fingers moving faster, pushing you closer.

“Come for Daddy,” he says, voice low and commanding, his free hand gripping your thigh, holding you in place. “Right here, baby. Show me you’re mine.”

You do, because you can’t help it, because he owns you, body and soul. Your orgasm hits hard, silent but shattering, your teeth sinking into your lip to keep from crying out, your body trembling in his lap. He groans, soft and smug, his fingers slowing but not stopping, drawing it out until you’re limp against him, your breath ragged.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing your temple, his hand slipping out, slick with you. He licks his fingers, slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on yours, and you blush, mortified but aching for him, because he’s so filthy, so perfect.

He pays for the coffee, casual as anything, and drives off, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh, like nothing happened. You’re still shaking, your dress crumpled, your panties damp, but he’s calm, love-struck, his thumb brushing your skin like you’re precious.

“You’re so good for me, sunshine,” he says, voice soft now, almost tender. “So fucking perfect.”

You don’t answer, just lean against him, your head on his shoulder, your heart full. You’re spoiled, ruined, his—and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

That night, you don’t go back to your room. You stay with him, curled in his bunk, his arms around you, his tags cool against your skin. You don’t write in your notebook, because there’s nothing left to say. You’re his, completely, irrevocably, and the world—your dad, the base, the whispers—can’t touch that.

[writesvani]

dear me | 10

lawyer! jungkook x privatechef! reader

SUMMARY: Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secret—except one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.

The end. Except it isn't.

One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years ago—written by your younger self. A letter you’d forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.

But now, it’s too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?

estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: anxiety, emotional conflict, frustration, feelings of inadequacy, fear of failure, intense argument, self-doubt, stress, mild emotional distress

comment HERE for Dear Me taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter (pending...)

wc: 5,1k // date: 24th of May 2025

CHAPTER TEN — TETHERED THREADS happy reading my gummies...

AN: oh my god hi babies!!! dear me is back and so am i? so are we all excited or what. i don't want to spoil this chapter but it goes from 0 to 100 real quick so like. prepare yourselves. i warned you!!

now, about the note goal — plot twist — there is none. i’m currently in my ✨mystery era✨ trying to figure out a better posting system so we’re just gonna wing it for now. that does NOT mean you shouldn’t like, comment, or reblog because hello?? validation?? serotonin?? but no pressure.

if you liked the chapter and wanna scream about it, i’m here. reading. refreshing. obsessing. after all the weird energy and negativity lately, i’m really hoping we can bring back our chaotic little community — full of kindness, laughter, and just the right amount of delusion.

i love you all so much it’s actually concerning. chapter 11 will be posted on june 2nd unless the universe decides otherwise but let’s manifest consistency together, okay? okay.

The morning starts like every other.

One shot of espresso — because two makes you jittery and one feels just right — gulped down in the dim glow of your kitchen light. No breakfast, of course. You’ll eat whatever Ms. Kim requests you to make, and if it’s something boring like porridge again, well, that’s just the universe’s way of punishing you for not getting groceries. Quick shower. Music playing from your phone speaker (Today: old Arctic Monkeys. Why? Who knows, they felt like a Wednesday band). Then, one episode of Suits. Always Suits. Always one. You like the predictability, the build-up. You like the false sense of control it gives you, knowing you’ll be left on a cliffhanger but choosing to turn it off anyway.

Everything is smooth. Everything is routine. Your perfect little mental tightrope, walked with the balance of someone who’s been practicing calm like it’s a sport.

Until you sit in your car.

Crack.

Not a literal sound — no smoke, no explosion — but the kind of mental snap that jolts you right between the eyes. The one that makes your chest tighten and your hands pause on the steering wheel. You try to start the engine once. Twice. A third time, just for good measure. Nothing.

Your car is dead. Or maybe just extremely petty.

You stare at the dashboard like it just told you your childhood dog ran away. Because how did you not notice the gas light? You always notice the gas light. You’re religious about the gas light. It’s your one non-negotiable.

You bang your head lightly against the steering wheel and mutter under your breath, “I deserve this.”

Maybe it’s karma. Maybe it’s sleep deprivation. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been so wrapped up in pretending everything’s fine that the basics — like fuel — slipped through the cracks. But now you’re sitting in your silent car, the neighborhood too quiet and you realize something dreadful.

This day has already betrayed you.

And it’s not even 9 a.m.

Your first logical solution is Yoongi.

It always is, really. Calm, capable, cursed with a heart way too big for that grumpy exterior. His work is basically around the corner from Ms. Kim’s place anyway, so in theory, it makes perfect sense. One quick call, a dramatic but well-timed sigh, maybe even a guilt trip about “doing it for your beloved bestie” — and boom, problem solved.

Except, as always, the universe has beef with you.

Because when Yoongi picks up the phone, he doesn’t greet you. He whispers. Weakly.

“I’ve been betrayed,” he croaks.

“By who?” you ask, alarmed.

“My body,” he whispers, hoarse. “Fever. I’m dying. Tell my cat I love him.”

You pause. “You don’t have a cat.”

“Then who have I been feeding?” he mumbles, and the line cuts with the faintest of coughs.

You exhale through your nose, long and tired. Of course Yoongi can’t come. He’s sick. Sick-sick. Not hungover-sick, not "I stayed up binge-watching anime and now I’m emotionally unstable" sick — actual sick. You text him a get-well-soon and a half-serious promise to bring soup and put your phone down with a sigh that echoes in your dead car.

Uber? Taxi?

You wince just thinking about it. It’s not the cost, or the inconvenience, or even the question of how many strangers' asses have occupied those seats before yours. It’s just… uncomfortable. The whole idea of being stuck in a confined space while some overly chatty middle-aged man named Bob tells you about his second divorce and favorite Coldplay album?

No thanks.

You’re not a snob. You just prefer your social anxiety from a safe distance.

So your next logical option — and by logical, you mean potentially dangerous to your mental well-being — is Jungkook.

Yeah. Jungkook.

You already feel your eye twitch at the thought.

Because asking your hot, soon-to-be-married best friend to rescue you from your own stupidity has never ended in emotional stability. Still, you unlock your phone, thumb hovering over his contact.

What’s the worst that could happen?

(You know exactly what could happen. You just choose to ignore it.)

“Hey,” Jungkook says as you practically haul yourself into the passenger seat of his car, the sharp scent of his cologne greeting you before his voice even fully lands.

“Hey, Kook,” you say, breathless, fumbling with the seatbelt. “Thank you for coming so quick. You literally saved my life. Or my job. Or both.”

He gives you a small smile, fingers still on the steering wheel. “Don’t worry about it. It’s on the way for me anyway.”

You hum, settling into the leather seat, trying not to notice how put together he looks this morning. Hair styled to perfection, parted just right, not a single strand out of place. His charcoal gray suit is pressed, not a wrinkle in sight, with the cuffs of his white shirt peeking just slightly from under his blazer sleeves. There’s a navy tie around his neck, loosened just a bit — enough to make him look a little less intimidating, a little more like your Jungkook.

And it’s… a lot. It’s too much, honestly.

Because you haven’t really talked since that Sunday.

Since the night he stepped on stage and left his soul in every note of that song. Since he cradled your face with both hands and pressed his forehead to yours like he couldn’t breathe unless you were that close.

Since you felt something shift.

But after that? A few texts. A meme exchange. Some "dude, that show was crazy" type messages. Nothing heavy. Nothing about the way your chest physically ached when the music stopped and you realized how close you’d been to crossing a line neither of you were meant to approach.

And maybe it was just adrenaline.

Maybe it was a high from the performance. A beautiful, fleeting moment of blurred feelings and too much noise.

But you’re an overthinker. And even now, as he drives through the streets in his sleek black car, his hand calmly resting on the gearshift, eyes focused on the road — you wonder.

Did he feel it too?

You glance sideways at him, and it’s honestly infuriating how effortlessly attractive he looks at 8:43 in the morning. You’re here with a wrinkled hoodie and barely brushed hair, and he looks like he walked out of a Vogue editorial titled "Litigation and Lust."

Your thoughts spiral. You hate it.

Because he’s your best friend.

And he’s engaged.

And you’re supposed to be so, so far from this kind of thinking.

But your heart still clenches in your chest when you think about that Sunday. His hands on your face. His breath on your skin. That look in his eyes, like maybe he was fighting something too.

So you swallow the thoughts. Tuck them behind your ribs. You look back out the window and say nothing.

Because saying something might ruin everything.

You’re both quiet for a beat too long — not awkward, not exactly — just suspended in that weird, stretched silence that sits heavy between two people who almost talked about something important but didn’t.

Then Jungkook pulls out his phone and sets it in your lap without a word.

You glance down, confused. “What’s this?”

“Play whatever you want,” he says, eyes still on the road. “I know you hate car rides without music.”

You snort softly. “Obviously. I’m not a psychopath.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So I am one now?”

“Well…” you smirk. “For someone who lives and breathes music, it’s a little criminal that you drive around in complete silence.”

He chuckles under his breath, and it’s the first sound that feels a little like the old Jungkook. “Music distracts me when I drive.”

Your fingers freeze for a moment over his Spotify. “What is it with you and music being a distraction…”

It’s innocent — said without much thought. But the second the words leave your mouth, the memory flashes sharp in your brain.

Shit.

You remember now. The moment he told you—how Nina said that playing drums made him lose focus. How it’s an unnecessary distraction.

You swallow hard, wishing you could drag those words back down your throat.

Jungkook doesn’t respond. But his fingers tighten slightly on the steering wheel, just enough that you notice.

You tap at the screen, trying to play it off. Your thumb hovers over House of Balloons, because of course that would be his last played. Typical. It’s not morning music by any stretch, but you tap play anyway.

The slow, pulsing rhythm of the song fills the car like smoke — sultry, haunting, too much for the morning.

You stare ahead at the road, heart rattling a little too loud in your chest.

God, you hate how much you remember. And worse — how much you want to.

You close your eyes, pretend you didn’t see the way he clenched his jaw. Pretend you’re not hearing lyrics that have nothing to do with you, but still feel like they’re scraping something raw open inside you.

Because yeah.

This is definitely too much.

And somehow still not enough.

“Well, it is distracting,” he hisses, sharper than he means to be.

He exhales through his nose and lets his voice soften. “I just don’t like to multitask like that. Plus… I wasn’t talking about that night.”

You glance at him. “I never mentioned the night you played.”

“No, but you were thinking about it.”

Your brows lift. “How do you know that, Jungkook?”

“Because I know you.”

“And I know you too,” you shoot back, “which is exactly why I can tell you’re itching to explain yourself. Because you know I’m right.”

He rolls his eyes. “Right about what, exactly?”

“You being scared to play again.”

He blinks. “What is it with you this morning? You never even said that to me before, and now suddenly you’re Freud in the passenger seat.”

“I never said it. But you know it’s true.” You turn slightly in your seat. “Come on, Kook. We both know you weren’t scared you’d suck.”

He doesn’t answer. His jaw ticks.

“So why were you scared?” you ask gently. “Hm?”

He’s quiet.

“You were scared you’d love it. And you did.”

He scoffs under his breath, but it’s weak. “Well, not all of us get to do what we love.”

You snort. “That’s literally just an illusion toxic society and late-stage capitalism shoved down our throats.”

He throws you a look. “Okay, great. Now you’re being philosophical for no reason.”

“Am I?” you challenge. “I mean, if people did what they loved, the world would be a lot less miserable.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “But that’s impossible.”

“How and why?”

“Because we’d be living in a world full of artists, musicians, basketball players, and TikTok therapists—who the hell would do the boring, dangerous, miserable jobs?”

“This might come as a shock,” you grin, “but there are people who dream of doing those jobs.”

“That’s just… incorrect. And I could elaborate.”

“Then elaborate.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re pissing me off.”

You laugh, incredulous. “For saying you should maybe do something you love again? Even just as a hobby?”

“For acting like it’s that easy,” he snaps. “Like it’s not a fucking luxury to even consider that.”

“A luxury, huh?” you scoff. “Are you insinuating something, Jungkook?”

“Come on,” he mutters, eyes on the road. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“No, seriously. I’d really like to know—why do you think like that?”

“I said it generally. I wasn’t talking about you.”

“Not directly,” you fire back. “But you meant it. So just spit it out.”

His jaw clenches. You watch him, waiting.

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” he says tightly, “but it’s easy for you to sit up on your high horse, acting like you can’t understand why people don’t chase their dreams—when you had a net. You had support. You had parents who would catch you if you fell.”

Your stomach twists.

“And now,” he continues, bitter, “you have the audacity to judge the rest of us. To judge me—for choosing something stable. Something that won’t fall apart.”

“I have never judged you, Jungkook,” you say, voice firm now. “Not for a single second. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy. But you’re too deep in your own bitterness and insecurity to see that.”

“Insecurity?” he snaps.

“No,” you tilt your head. “Jealousy.”

He laughs, harsh and humorless. “Jealous? Of what?”

“Of the people who went for it. Who chased what they wanted. Who lived their fantasy, even if it was just for a little while.”

“Oh, so now I’m jealous of you?”

“I didn’t say that,” you say quietly. “But since you did…”

“Please,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re literally screwing yourself over.”

“What does that mean?”

“I mean, you’re not living your dream. You lived it that one summer in high school—when you were traveling and learning and cooking and being free. Now? You’re working a glorified 9-to-5 cooking vegan meals for a neurotic rich divorcee. That wasn’t your dream.”

You blink, heart thudding. That one stung.

“Maybe not,” you say after a beat. “But by that logic? I still lived my dream. Even for a moment. Something real came from it. You never even gave yours a chance.”

His voice drops low, almost a whisper. “Because I’m not meant to.”

Your chest aches. “Then why are you so pissed?”

“Because I’m trying to reason with you!” he bursts, his voice cracking around the edges.

“And I’m trying to reason with you!”

“No, you’re not!” he snaps. “You’re trying to fix me.”

You go still.

“God, Jungkook, are you delusional or something?” you snap, voice low and tight. “I’m literally just trying to open your eyes.”

“To what, exactly?” he shoots back. “You’re talking without even trying to see it from my side. Like you always do.”

“I never act like I know everything.”

He huffs a bitter laugh. “Yeah? That’s kind of your thing, though.”

“My thing?”

“You always act like you know what’s best—for everyone. Like your opinion is the only valid one, and if people don’t see it your way, then they’re just wrong.”

“That’s not true,” you bite, anger laced with hurt. “I want what’s best for you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I know that, Y/n. But maybe what you think is ‘best’ for me isn’t the same as what I want. Maybe I don’t have everything I ever dreamed of—but I’m content. I’m satisfied. I’m… happy.”

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Sure. You’re happy. But I still wish you had everything. Everything you wanted.”

He exhales sharply. “That’s impossible.”

“Why? Why, Kook?”

His eyes stay locked on the road, jaw tense. “Because if that were possible… we wouldn’t be sitting here having this argument.”

You blink. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I—” he pauses. “Nothing. Just forget it. I’ve got a hearing in an hour, and I can’t walk into that courtroom like this. Let’s drop it.”

You shake your head slowly. “Right. Of course. Now you want to drop it. That’s your real ‘thing,’ Jungkook—running. From arguments. From real conversations. From me.”

“I’m not running,” he says quietly. “I’m protecting my peace. Maybe you should try that sometime.”

“Protecting your peace doesn’t mean shutting people out the second they say something you don’t like,” you snap, heart hammering in your chest. “That’s not peace, Jungkook. That’s fear.”

“I’m not afraid,” he fires back, “I’m tired.”

“No, you’re afraid. Of feeling things too deeply. Of doing something reckless. Of being disappointed. So you built this perfect little life with a perfect little job and a perfect little routine, and you convince yourself it’s enough.”

He laughs bitterly. “And what, you want me to be like you? Burning out in someone else’s kitchen just so I can feel something?”

“At least I’m feeling something! At least I’m not numbing myself with depositions and court dates pretending I don’t miss the version of you that used to dream out loud.”

“That version of me doesn’t exist anymore!”

“Well, maybe I miss him anyway,” you say, voice quieter now. “Maybe I miss who you were before you decided being safe was more important than being happy.”

Silence fills the car, thick and heavy. The tension crackles between you like static. You want to reach for him, want to pull the words back, but it’s too late.

Jungkook exhales slowly, finally turning to look at you at the red light. His voice is low. “And maybe I miss the version of you who didn’t make me feel like shit for choosing differently.”

Your heart sinks.

“Maybe,” he says again, voice softer now, almost tender. “We just don’t know each other like we used to.”

You swallow around the lump forming in your throat. “Maybe we know each other too well. And that’s the problem.”

He doesn’t answer.

The light turns green.

He drives in silence.

And this time, you don’t reach for the music.

The silence becomes a living thing—thick, suffocating, curling around your chest like a fist. Jungkook’s grip on the wheel tightens, knuckles white, but he doesn’t say a word. You turn your face toward the window, watching the city blur past, every billboard and traffic light glowing against the tension burning behind your eyes.

You finally speak, voice quieter this time. “Why does it always have to be like this with us?”

“Because we’re both stubborn. Because we know everything about each other,” he says, his voice quiet—like the anger’s burned out and all that’s left is ash and honesty.

You hum, not in disagreement but more like a sound of recognition. You shift in your seat, knees angled slightly toward him, your spine pressing into the cool edge of the door. The city lights bleed into the car, flashing across his jawline. He looks good like this—annoyingly good—hair perfectly styled, suit neat despite the hour, but his expression? It’s all cracked open.

“I’m sorry,” he says, cutting into the silence like it’s something he has to slice through before it swallows you both whole. “I went too far with all of this. I didn’t want us to argue.”

“No, Kook… I started it,” you say, voice soft but heavy. “I’m sorry too.”

He lets out a small breath, almost a laugh. “I hate fighting with you.”

“Same,” you murmur. “It sucks.”

“You know I didn’t mean most of what I said, right?” His eyes flick toward you, searching your face. “Most of the shit… it was just—heat of the moment stuff.”

You nod, hand reaching over to rest gently on his shoulder. “I know, Kook. Me neither.”

The car stills for a beat. There’s no music playing now, just the muted sound of tires on wet asphalt and the whisper of things you can’t say aloud. You let the silence linger too long, and it hangs there, taut and unspoken.

Because the truth is… some of the words you said? You did mean them. Not all. But some.

And you wonder—did he?

Did he mean it when he said you were delusional? Did he mean it when he implied you had it easier? Or was that just his bruised ego talking, scared of how deeply you still saw him?

You pull your hand back and press it to your lap, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve.

“I meant some of it,” you admit, voice barely louder than a whisper.

He blinks. “Which parts?”

You hesitate. “The part about you being scared to play again… and how it’s easier for you to pretend you’re content than to admit you still want more.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he shifts his hand off the wheel and runs it through his hair—slowly, like he’s buying himself time.

“You really think I’m just pretending?” he asks finally, almost offended. But not quite.

You shrug, eyes glued to the dashboard. “I think you tell yourself you’re fine so you don’t have to want something you think you’ll never get.”

He exhales sharply. “You make it sound so fucking tragic.”

“Isn’t it?” you glance at him. “I mean, maybe not in a dramatic way. But quietly, in the way that gnaws at you slowly. You don’t realize it until it’s too late.”

He’s gripping the wheel again, jaw tight. “And what about you, huh? Are you living your big dream life?”

You pause, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “I thought I was. I tell myself I am. But some nights I lie awake wondering if I’ve just built a pretty version of settling.”

He looks at you again, this time more carefully. “So we’re both full of shit.”

“Maybe that’s why we get each other so well.”

Jungkook lets out a breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “God, we’re a mess.”

“A beautiful one,” you tease softly.

He smiles faintly. “Speak for yourself.”

You nudge his arm. “Don’t deflect.”

“I’m not deflecting,” he mutters. “I’m deflecting with charm. There’s a difference.”

You laugh, finally, and the sound breaks the tension like a crack in glass letting in fresh air. But underneath it, something lingers. A feeling. A thought. One neither of you has dared to voice yet.

You turn to him again, serious now. “You don’t have to go back to being a musician full-time, Jungkook. But you could play again. For yourself. Just… because you want to.”

He’s quiet for a moment, eyes on the road ahead.

“And what if I do? What if I play again, and it lights something up inside me I can’t ignore?”

You reach over and squeeze his hand, firm and gentle all at once.

“Then we deal with that fire together.”

He looks at you, and this time, you don’t look away. Not when his eyes soften, not when his lips twitch up just a little. Not when the weight of years and unsaid things hangs between you.

Maybe this is how it’s always been between you two. Messy. Complicated. Raw.

But it’s real.

And for now, maybe that’s enough.

He doesn't let go of your hand.

Doesn’t flinch or pull away like he usually does when things get too real, too close to the bone. His thumb brushes over your knuckles absentmindedly, and it’s terrifying how natural it feels. How long you’ve both pretended this wasn’t still buried somewhere between you, under layers of arguments and half-truths and detours in life.

“I’m scared,” Jungkook says, and it’s so quiet, you almost miss it. His voice cracks on the word scared, and you’ve known him long enough to understand how rare that kind of honesty is coming from him.

You don’t say anything. You just wait.

“I’m scared that if I play again… if I really try… and I still fail…” He swallows. “Then it’s not just about life being unfair. Then it’s me. Then I’m the reason it didn’t work.”

You lean in a little, turning your body more toward him. “That’s not how it works, Kook.”

“But that’s how it feels,” he says, finally looking at you, eyes wide. “Like if I never try again, then I get to keep the dream. It stays perfect. Untouched. Still possible.”

“Untouched things don’t grow,” you whisper.

He closes his eyes, head dropping back against the headrest. “God, why do you always say things that hit me like a truck?”

“Because you drive the metaphorical car straight into denial, and someone has to steer,” you offer with a small, teasing smile.

He laughs—really laughs—and it’s so genuine that it softens the ache in your chest.

“You know, back then… in high school,” he says after a moment, voice low, “when we all thought the world was ours… I used to think I’d marry someone who got me the way you do.”

Your heart stutters. You almost don’t breathe.

“Jungkook…”

“I don’t mean it like a confession or anything,” he adds quickly, though the way he avoids your eyes tells you it is one. “I just mean… you’ve always seen through me. Even when I didn’t want you to.”

You don’t know what to say. The space between you feels electric now—like something’s about to snap or shift or fall apart in a beautiful, devastating way.

“I wish I could be braver for you,” he admits, and there’s a rawness in it that nearly breaks you. “I wish I didn’t always pull away. Didn’t always shut down when things get too close.”

“You still can be,” you say softly. “Bravery isn’t some fixed trait. You can choose it. Every day.”

He turns to you again, and for a moment, everything else fades—the world outside the car, the ticking clock, the stupid hearing he has to be at in forty-five minutes. It’s just you. And him. And this fragile truth hanging in the space between.

You inhale slowly. “Maybe we’re not meant to live perfect dreams, Kook. Maybe we’re just supposed to chase the pieces that still make us feel alive.”

He nods, eyes searching yours. “And maybe I want to start chasing again.”

Your heart thuds. But you don’t let it show. You squeeze his hand instead and whisper, “Then I’ll be here. Right behind you.”

The silence that follows is no longer heavy.

It’s filled with possibility.

A few quiet beats pass. The tension between you has shifted—softer now, but still charged, still full of words unsaid.

You clear your throat. “I meant what I said though. About wanting you to be happy. And… not judging you. I never have.”

“I know,” he says, his voice steady. “I just forget sometimes. I get in my own head and push people away. Especially the ones who know me best. Guess that’s some kind of twisted reflex.”

You shrug. “You’re not the only one. I’ve done my fair share of self-sabotaging too.”

“Yeah, well…” He laughs under his breath. “Maybe we need an actual therapist in this car.”

You smile a little, the tension in your jaw easing. “Maybe. But then again, I think we’ve been each other’s therapists for so long, we wouldn’t know what to do with a real one.”

He glances at you. “You’re not wrong.”

Another pause. Then he adds, “I want to be clear about something. About Nina.”

Your stomach clenches a bit, but you keep your voice steady. “Okay.”

“She’s important to me. And I respect her more than I know how to say. She’s been nothing but good to me—and I’m not going to mess that up.”

You nod, relieved at how firmly he says it. “I know, Jungkook. I wasn’t trying to cross a line or anything.”

“You didn’t,” he assures quickly. “It’s just… I know how our conversations can get. How intense they can feel. And I want to make sure we both remember what they aren’t.”

You nod again, your voice soft. “They’re not a doorway back.”

“Exactly,” he says, offering you a brief glance. “They’re just… two people who know each other too damn well, still figuring shit out.”

You let out a quiet chuckle. “Some things never change.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Still. I don’t like fighting with you.”

“Me neither.”

“And I don’t want this to be a cycle, you know? Us going from avoiding things to blowing up in each other’s faces.”

“Then maybe we should work on saying things before they pile up,” you offer, folding your arms.

He nods. “Yeah. That’s fair.”

You both fall quiet again. This time, it doesn’t feel tense—it feels reflective. Like two people recalibrating. Not leaning on each other like they used to, but still existing in the same gravity.

“I still think you should cook more for yourself, by the way,” Jungkook says after a moment. “Not for clients. Not because someone paid you. Just… for fun. For joy.”

You scoff. “Didn’t you just accuse me of being too idealistic twenty minutes ago?”

He smirks. “I did. But I’m allowed to change my mind.”

You roll your eyes but smile anyway. “I cook enough already.”

“Not like you used to,” he says, and something about the way he says it makes your chest ache a little. “Remember that summer after high school? You were obsessed with making pasta from scratch for like three weeks.”

“It was a phase,” you say with a chuckle.

“It made you happy.”

You nod, looking down at your lap. “Yeah. It did.”

“Then maybe try it again. No pressure. No performance. Just… you and the food. That’s all.”

You glance at him, your smile small but genuine. “Maybe I will.”

A beat.

“And if you ever want someone to peel carrots for you or taste test or pretend to know the difference between béchamel and hollandaise—I’m your guy.”

You laugh, the sound breaking up the last of the tension. “Noted.”

The car grows quiet again, but this time it feels okay. Comfortable. Like something has been salvaged. Not what once was. Not what could’ve been. But what is.

The ride to your job is quiet, but not uncomfortably so. A shared stillness fills the car—like neither of you want to poke at the tender spot you've both just exposed.

Outside, the city hums to life. The early sun catches on glass windows and street signs, and your reflection in the window looks tired, but lighter somehow.

When Jungkook pulls up in front of the quaint little apartment building, tucked between a florist and a gallery, he shifts the car into park but doesn’t move to open his door.

You glance at him. “You gonna walk me in like a gentleman, or do I have to carry all my things like a peasant?”

He huffs a laugh, but it’s soft, fond. “You’re the one who always says you like to make a dramatic solo entrance.”

“Only when I’m wearing heels and carrying an attitude.”

He shakes his head, grinning faintly. Then, more seriously, “Hey. Go easy today, okay?”

You nod, hand on the door handle. “You too. Good luck with your hearing.”

“Thanks,” he says, then hesitates. “And... thanks for being honest with me. Even when it’s messy.”

You pause at the door, looking at him with something that lingers between affection and ache. “That’s the only way I know how to be with you.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Just holds your gaze, something unreadable in his eyes.

Then, “Go cook something that makes you forget the world exists.”

You smile, softer this time. “You say the most poetic shit when you’re sleep-deprived.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he says, but the corners of his mouth tug upward.

You get out, closing the door gently behind you. As you make your way to the entrance, you feel the weight of his stare on your back. You don’t turn around. You don’t need to.

The engine hums back to life just as you unlock the door and disappear inside.

And just like that, the morning swallows you both into different lives—still tethered by a thread that neither of you are ready to cut, but both are too careful to pull on.

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[yosuk-e]

i find comfort in you; ft. tsukishima

in which the reader finds him dejected after a lost practice match.

a/n: for the request i got today! had a super sudden burst of motivation to write (instead of reviewing for exams yayyy......) so i hope you enjoy this. also, i'm aware this might be a bit ooc for tsukishima, whoops. i was planning for a bokuto & kenma version of this prompt too, so let me know if you'd like that.

tsukishima

kei was never one to sulk about volleyball. you'd known that since he made it painfully clear that no, he does not care about this sport, because it's just a club. a just because, and that it was never going to be anything more than that. he'd been that way about it with basically everything for as long as you two had known each other, and you sometimes wondered whether he genuinely enjoyed anything thoroughly at all, except for maybe you and dino-shaped chicken nuggets.

tonight was different, though.

tonight, tsukishima didn't greet anybody, other than a muffled "i'm home." tonight, kei went straight to his room, in a flurry of frustration both at the fact that they had in fact lost that practice game they were working tirelessly for, but also at the fact that he even cared so much, especially after the many times that he's asserted he doesn't. on an even more concerning note, he's entirely ignored you. left you no message, gave you no call. all which left you with a growing pit of anxiety at the ring background you desperately hoped would illuminate your phone screen, "any moment now..."

6:37PM. you hummed in annoyance at the number. why is it taking him so long to call? is he busy? did something happen? you take a deep breath in an attempt to collect yourself.

ding! you scramble to your bed where you've left your phone to charge.

three new messages - kei

you hurry to read the messages in a rush.

left displeased with the interaction with your boyfriend, you huff. it wasn't abnormal for you and tsukishima to fight. arguing was sort of your love language, even. this was just odd. not an explanation, just a shutdown.

you make up your mind and rush to get dressed. there is no way he's this upset and you can't comfort him about it. you weren't going to let him grow distant when he needs you most, so you dash over to his house, in as little time as possible.

7:23PM. you make it there, standing awkwardly at the door of his room, a pit growing in you. are you overstepping? maybe he just needed some alone time, and you're acting like a pushover? what if-

creak. the door opens, and you're greeted with wide eyes and a soft voice. "yn?" you gulp. how stupid is it that you've been silently standing here for 2 minutes? "uhh... have you just been standing?" tsukishima says, with some slight, but noticeable judgement in his voice. "yeah..."

a smile (so very slightly) appears on his face, as he pulls on your arm gently to let you in the room, his door shutting with a soft click. and you both stare, awkwardly, until you finally begin, "look, i know you wanted to be left alone, but-"

but nothing, because in that same moment, the near 190cm giant you were standing next to leans over, and rests his head on your shoulder, his arms wrapped tight around you, leaving no space for movement. "i'm sorry."

"you're sorry? no, kei it's-"

"we lost the game. it was shitty. i'm mad, and i don't want to be. i want to not feel like i cared about this so much, because, well, fuck. it's just a club. it's supposed to be just a club." tsukishima holds you close, in his strong, unrelenting grasp making you feel at home. "we all put a lot of work into it. i put a lot of work into it. shit. it's whatever."

your arms free themselves from his grip gently, making their way to his hair, playing with the soft, blonde strands. "kei..."

"-and it's fucking, damn it. nothing. it was nothing."

you hum encouragingly. tsukishima might've not been the most social, the most outgoing, or the best with words. but for now, for this moment, it was enough.

your hands cup his face to kiss his forehead lightly, and press it against yours, softly saying, "it's okay. you can always tell me."

your evening is filled with rants, rambles, and complaints, but you wouldn't wish for it to be any other way.

a/n: i did NOT proofread this so if you see anything wrong hush.....

[httpsserene]

I have been having SUCH a thought since the Thigh Riding, and I NEED to tell you.

We know reader has been loving Max and Charles’ thighs, but have you seen those silicone thigh toys? They’re basically ridged pads you strap to your thigh and…well you can guess what they do with them.

I just- I feel like it would elevate it, their sweet girl opening up to the world of toys whilst in the comfort of something she loved.

httpsserene’s 1K Special | Track Limits

summary: she’s oversensitive and hates vibrators. max and charles introduce her to something better.

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. this is from december 2023, jesus christ. about fucking time right, @vetteltea? this has been haunting me in my sleep ever since this hit my inbox, now it’s y’all’s problem too < 333 psss, next post will either be toasty part two (toto) or a smau! (if you’re unsure about what these specific thigh toys are, look up “grinding pad sex toy” to get an idea of what i’m referencing).

view the full track limits table of contents.

⌕ prev | join taglist | reqs & feedback | upcoming chapters | table of contents | next ↻

downforce — 𝐜𝐥. 𝟏𝟔 & 𝐦𝐯. 𝟏 charles leclerc x max verstappen x fem!black!reader 2.4k words. thigh riding. sex toys. non-penetrative sex. edging. praise kink. corruption kink. implied dom/sub dynamics. coming untouched. sub!charles. sub!reader. dom!max.

You’ve deeply repressed the memory of your orgasm-deprived outburst that kick started your sexual exploration with Max and Charles. Vaguely, you can remember saying that you possibly considered the thought of buying a vibrator to get yourself off since riding your pillow wasn’t enough anymore.

[…you’ve become depraved enough to consider buying a vibrator, but all packages delivered to this apartment have to be approved by max or charles to be sent up, and you’re definitely not bold enough to go out and buy one (and risk being seen by one of their fans or have to physically talk to someone to buy one)...]

[…you seem to have missed the fact that you sent their minds reeling and continue venting, “i don’t know what to do, maxy!  i’ve been doing the same thing, and it’s NEVER failed me before. it’s cruel that it stopped working when you guys left me for more than a month! no matter how i did it–if i did the exact same things i’ve always been doing, or tried something new, nothing worked! i was literally just considering buying a fucking vibrator! a vibrator, charles, i’d rather run naked in the street than buy that online and have to put in this delivery address–”

charles gently presses finger against your mouth, shushing you. he pulls you into a deep hug, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your back , the motion pacifying you. he hums, and it vibrates through his chest to yours, “mmm, we’re home now, mon ange. there’s no need to run in the streets naked–” “definitely not,” max jumps in, reacting possessively at the implication of other people seeing you undressed. charles rolls his eyes and continues (like he’s not just as jealous as max), “or buy a vibrator. i know it must be so frustrating…”]

Charles was right. You didn’t have to go streaking or buy a sex toy to get off, your boyfriends took care of you. That night, you were satisfied by riding Max’s thigh. Then a few days later, you learned how to pleasure your men with handjobs. A couple of days after that you were fingerfucked into an altered mental state, then followed up with watching Charles cum untouched as Max ate him out. You had Max’s mouth on you next and weeks later in a Spanish villa, you allowed them to take your virginity.

The five days you three spent in that villa were filled with pleasure, as Max and Charles fulfilled every request of yours without question. In bed, on the sofa, from the kitchen floor to the dining table, from the hot tub to the bathroom shower, horizontally, vertically, parabolically, from dusk to dawn—the two years of relationship you had without sexual intimacy had been put to rest. The understanding, the vulnerability, and the trust rooted within everyone had led to that moment. It was worth it.

So, one would understand your confusion when Max drops the idea of sex toys in conversation with you and Charles on a random morning. With an audible noise of confusion, you tilt your head up at him adorably, and genuinely question, “Why would I use a toy when I have you two?” Your tummy tightened when that sentence caused Charles to look at you with dripping molten eyes and Max’s mumbled grumble about corrupting your innocence goes unheard. Minutes later, you were bent over the kitchen island, the skirt of your sundress shoved up around your waist, and your white panties dangling off of one ankle as they took turns eating you out. Needless to say, you forgot about the subject of conversation the moment they knocked your legs open.

Eventually, they do manage to have a chat about toys without it devolving into sex. 

“Schat,” Max grabbed your attention, the clink of his silverware resting on his plate further interrupted your focus on spinning pasta onto your fork.

“Yes, Maxy?” you responded, meeting his eyes with a smile.

“After this discussion, we will never bring this up again if you are adamantly against the idea,” you brought your fork to your lips, munching away with a look of puzzlement, the Dutchman continued, “But, Charlie and I were talking…and we think, that—with your approval, of course—that there’s a chance you may enjoy experiencing and learning about sex toys, and how good they can make you feel. As long as either one of us is using them on you—and, with your hatred of them—they’re also not vibrators.”

You choked on your pasta, Charles making a noise of surprise as he rushed forward to pat you on the back.

Airways now cleared, you looked at Max with watery eyes, “There was not enough foreshadowing to let me know where the conversation was going. And, fuck vibrators. They are way too strong.”

The Monegasque’s eyes brightened with humor, “Hm. I think vibrators are nice, especially when they’re in Max’s hand.”

“You’re a menace and a freak,” the older man responded, “And she’s chronically sensitive. Don’t tease.”

Charles tugged at one of your curls, chuckling as he saw the brown skin of your cheeks redden.

“I mean,” you paused to play fight with your boyfriend, batting his hand from your hair cutely, “You guys haven’t been wrong with anything you’ve introduced me to. If you think that I might enjoy something…I guess I can try it. And, you’ll stop if I tell you to, right?”

“Always, mon ange.” “Of course, liefje.”

“Okay, then. I just don’t think there’s a toy that I’ll like?”

A smirk spread across Max’s lips when he glanced over at Charles, like they knew something you didn’t. His blue eyes were alight with humor as they looked back at you, “Let us worry about that.”

You did such a good job of letting your boyfriends “worry about sex toys” that you ended up forgetting the conversation happened. Until tonight, when you walked into your bedroom to see Charles on the bed completely naked, save for—what appears to be, a pink silicone pad strapped around his tanned, muscular thigh.

You freeze in the doorway, mouth parted, struggling to process the sight in front of you. The brunette is ruined. His hair is damp with sweat, strands of curls stuck to his forehead, and green eyes moist with dried tear tracks painting the ruddiness of his cheeks. His lips are bitten red, swollen, and moist with his spit—Max’s too. The bruises start on his collarbone, deep red marks brush along his clavicle and pecs, and there are visible imprints of teeth around his right nipple. Traces of Max’s unforgiving grip are painted on his waist, thumbprints obvious to your eyes. His cock looks painful; burning red, twitching randomly, the vein on his underside raised, and precome has been leaking out of his tip for a while if the puddle by the base is any telling. 

Employing his skill for perfect timing, the en-suite door opens, and Max steps into the room with a bottle of lube in his hand. 

“Charlie?” Max coos, walking over to the delirious man, pouting sympathetically when the brunette’s head falls forward to rest on his hip, ruffling his hair and scratching along his scalp. “Aren’t you going to thank our pretty girl for putting an end to your torture?”

“–rci, merci,” the exhausted man mumbles messily. Max hums in content, dropping the lube on the bed and gesturing for you to come closer. Tripping over your feet in haste to follow his order, you ask softly, “How long have you had him like this?”

“Around forty-five minutes,” Max shrugs, dismissively, “He was getting too excited as we waited for you to join us.”

Swallowing shakily, you inquire, “Excited about what?

“Your new sex toy.” 

You gasp and Max’s eyes flutter across your face as he gages your reaction. Max sees you shift on your feet and casts look downward; your thighs are pressed together for friction—you’re aroused.

“Do you want to try it?”

“Yes, Max.”

The Dutchman smiles at you, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, and leans forward to press a multitude of chaste kisses on your lips, laughing lowly when you whine with displeasure as he ignores your attempts to deepen them. “You’re being so brave for me. Take your clothes off, pretty girl.”

Bare in the blink of an eye, you look at your older boyfriend for his next direction.

“Our Charlie,” Max starts, helping the fucked-out man sit up straight, “Has been so kind to volunteer his thigh to you. Strapped around it,” he pauses to slap his hand down beneath the toy, smirking at Charles’ delayed yelp, and squeezing the meat of his muscle warmly, “Is a ridged silicone pad designed to simulate the vulva and clit as you grind. The waves and spikes of silicone are malleable and soft,” Max drags his finger across them demonstratively, “and are smooth and bouncy as you slide across it, allowing for a continuous rubbing sensation—I did my research.”

Giggling nervously as your eyes flicker between Charles’ cock and the daunting pink slab of plastic, “I can tell. Um—I just ride it like it’s his thigh?”

Max nods and offers you his hand for stability as you move to straddle the pad. Charles blinks, raising trembling hands to rest on your hips, staring at you with hazy eyes. You sigh, tangling your hand in the nape of his hair and using it to pull him forward into a kiss. His lips are clumsy but eager as they move against yours, whimpers muffled into your mouth and beard scratching along your chin. He tries to tug you downwards to have you firmly sit on the pad but is halted by Max.

“Greedy, both of you,” Max snorts, picking up the forgotten bottle of lube and uncapping it to lightly drizzle some on the toy's surface, “I know you get wetter than the ocean but, better safe than sorry.”

He pats you on the ass in encouragement, and you shake your head with shame as you lower yourself down on the silicone, draping your arms around Charles’ shoulders and pausing to acquaint yourself with the new feeling. The chill of the lube startles you but aside from that, the toy is…comfortable. The raised hump sits perfectly against the curvature of your cunt and already, you’re anticipating the focused stimulation it will provide. 

Max sits behind Charles and the bed sinks under his weight, barely jostling the Monegasque’s thigh. However, it’s enough of a movement that it causes one of the soft spikes to clip your clit, pushing a quiet noise of surprise from your lips.

“Oh,” you murmur airily.

Trying to hide the quirk of his lips, Max leans forward to whisper directly into Charles’ ear, “This seems awfully familiar to the first time she rode my thigh, no?”

You whimper audibly, knowing that he purposefully spoke loud enough for you to hear his words. Refusing to fixate on Charles’ reply, you circle your hips, breath catching as the various textures set your nerves ablaze. You understand that Max added the lube to prevent any unwanted roughness—it’s rendered unnecessary as your arousal starts to leak. Digging your nails into the younger man’s back, you rock your hips back and forth slowly, moaning freely as the waves are a consistent friction against your labia. 

“It’s–fuck—i-it’s good.”

“Stuttering already,” Max tuts, and you feel the heat in your cheeks radiate down to your bouncing chest. Your rhythm roughens; dragging yourself along the toys in desperation, toes curling at every random press of the spikes against your outer lips and clit. Charles gasps in relief, your quickened pace causing his cock to bounce and rub against his abdomen in his puddle of precome. He gets lucky on every few grinds when you undulate forwards and his cock bounces to glide against your navel. His hands grip firmly around your hips and shove them into a jerkier motion, keeping you close to him so his reddened length can be soothed against your skin constantly. 

The change in angle and position has caused the spikes to form a barrage around your clit and the waves drag over your entrance, teasing you with the feeling of being opened up. Dropping your head to hide your face in Charles’ neck, you muffle your pitchy moans and shrieks by tasting the sweat beading on his skin.

“I’m jealous, schatje,” Max speaks, “I almost want to pull her off of your thigh and have her sit on my face.”

Fresh tears spill from Charles’ eyes as he begs, “N-no-no—mmmph—please, ‘m close.”

Your hips start to rabbit against the toy, and the texture between your legs is overwhelming but too pleasurable to consider slowing. 

Max yanks Charles’ head backward with a fist in his hair, “Do you want to cum, Charlie?”

The man in question babbles incoherently, chest trembling from lack of oxygen as he continues to sob; he tries to nod, but can’t, thanks to Max’s firm grip. The burning of his scalp doesn’t subdue him, it encourages him to keep tugging so the pain floods endorphins through his body. 

“You know what to say,” Max states calmly, the words sending shivers down your spine. Your own body starts to tingle as you taste your orgasm on the tip of your tongue; you’re too delighted at the new sensations to let any embarrassment build from reaching the edge quickly.

Charles struggles to get his tongue, lips, and vocal cords to cooperate. You see a frantic look light in his eyes, sure he’s trying to puzzle out what language he’s sane enough to communicate in. He manages to verbalize sounds that could be likened to Max’s name if you brush past his whimpers and cries.

“Plea–,” Charles tries to push the word out pitifully, “—ah, sss'il te pla—” his cock bumps against your navel, and his words cut off, eyes rolling back before he can finish begging.

A humorous laugh leaves Max; this is the easiest way Max has ever made the younger man lose his speech. He softens, and gives into the pillow prince, “You did so good, Charlie. You tried your hardest for me, yeah? You begged so prettily tonight, almost as pretty as you look. Such a good boy, Charles. You can cum.”

Strikingly, the approval works for both you and Charles. Twin cries of pleasure erupt as your orgasms blur your vision and burn through your muscles. The feeling of Charles’s cum splattering against your stomach sends another burst of light through your skin as you continue to grind fitfully on the silicone pad. A lake of wetness puddled on the poor man’s thigh, that squelches as you move. 

Charles is rendered silent as his cock continues to pulse even when the flow of his release ceases. Max brings his hand down to squeeze at his base and Charles releases a choppy scream as it pushes another couple of ribbons out of him. His hips thrust upwards with every string, forcing hisses of over sensitivity to slip from you as it drags the soaked pad against your cunt. You would happily crawl off his thigh, but you haven’t regained feeling in your legs yet. 

Thankfully, Charles deflates back into Max, his cock finally softening and slowly losing some of its flush. Tears start to leak from his eyes again, his chest shuddering through little sobs. You whimper softly at his tears and Max pulls you both to rest comfortably in the bed, as he shushes you two through the comedown. When the tears, shivers, and shakes halt, a pleased tilt of lips rises to Charles's face as his eyes dance between you and Max. 

The Dutchman unclips the toy from Charles’s thigh and smirks at the wet peeling noise that sounds.

“So…I assume this toy has your approval?”

© httpsserene - do not reupload. photos in header image are from pinterest. divider by @cafekitsune.

[lushleona]

mattheo riddle x pregnant reader headcanons !!

suggestive content warning— nothing too much tho, mostly fluff

navigation masterlist

husband!mattheo who looks at you with wide eyes as if you’d hung the stars in the sky when you tell him you’re pregnant. it’s silence for a few moment before he kisses the shit out of you and holds you for what feels like hours

husband!mattheo who almost screams when your bump starts to become more noticeable, somehow finding you to be even more beautiful than ever before

husband!mattheo who gives up smoking and drinking when you’re pregnant. if you have to quit, he’s doing it with you

husband!mattheo who won’t let you do anything yourself. the tv remote is three inches too far from you? stay right there, he’ll get it. you need to walk to the bathroom? he’s guiding you there as if you can’t walk on your own. need water? don’t you DARE get out of your seat, he’s almost got it for you. oh, and do NOT open that door on your own. that’s what he’s there for!

husband!mattheo who is practically in tears within seconds at your first ultrasound, a petulant frown on his face when you laugh at him

husband!mattheo who is borderline annoyingly overbearing when it comes to your health. “did you take all your prenatal vitamins? did you drink enough water today? what did you eat? do you need help with that?” “matty, i love you but PLEASE shut up.”

husband!mattheo who kisses every inch of you, worshipping your femininity, your beautiful hard-working body. wet hot kisses trail down your arms, linger on your round belly for a while, and eventually find their way between your thighs where he’d stay for hours if you wanted him to. he just wants to make his queen feel good while she’s growing their princess <3

husband!mattheo who snatches you up in his arms and cheers after finding out you’re having a girl. then he takes a victory lap around the backyard as he tries to process the fact that he’s gonna have a daughter

husband!mattheo who lays his head on your belly at night, half asleep and letting out soft murmurs about how beautiful your daughter is gonna be. “gonna look just like mommy, most gorgeous little girl in the world, you’ll have her eyes” “let’s just hope you’re less of a brat than mama is”

husband!mattheo who basically panics more than you when you’re going into labor “HOLY FUCK ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW??”

husband!mattheo who almost faints when he catches a glimpse of the baby’s head coming out of you. “ARE YOU OKAY?” “NO, I’M NOT FUCKING OKAY, MATTHEO!”

husband!mattheo who genuinely cries when he sees you hold your baby for the first time, the most beautiful sight in the world even if you’re exhausted and swollen. he’ll lean down to kiss the both of you on the forehead, his heart swelling with a love he didn’t know he was capable of possessing

husband!mattheo whose crying only gets worse when you let him hold the baby, sniffling and cooing at her. next to you, she’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, even as a newborn

husband!mattheo who’s terrified of being a dad, afraid to follow in his father’s footsteps. it was scary even with your constant reassurance, but the second your baby utters the word “dada” as she lay in his arms, his fears melt away

husband!mattheo who is the most girl dad of all the girl dads. as she grows, he’ll play dress up with her, let her do his makeup and paint his nails, and learn the name of every disney princess ever. whatever she wants, to be honest

husband!mattheo who can absolutely never get mad at your daughter. she’s perfect and can do no wrong and no one is ever allowed to make his princess feel bad!

husband!mattheo who tells you repeatedly everyday about how much of a good mother you are, about how naturally it all comes to you “you’re amazing, you know that, my love?”

husband!mattheo who would give his life for you and your baby a million times over. you are the loves of his life and he will work his ass off until the day he dies to make sure you’re happy

“we should have a boy next. i mean, i love playing fairy princess tea party, but i think it’s time for something else.”

[girlkisser13]

dating tim drake would include

• tim is really sweet. he’ll kiss you to welcome you home or say goodbye when he goes out on patrol and he’ll happily carry you to bed if you fall asleep on the sofa and makes sure to tell you that he loves you everyday.

• he hacks your computer sometimes (for good reasons though). like you’ll just turn on your computer/laptop and your background is changed to a picture of you and tim together. <33

• even though everyone knows that you’re dating he still gets quite flustered and is prone to blushing if you call him a pet name in front of others. (you’d definitely do this just to see him blush).

• tim has your coffee order memorized (no matter how complicated it is).

• tim is SUPER clingy when he’s sleepy, like he can be needy and just want to hug and kiss you all the time. they’re kinda sloppy because he’s tired but his lust for affection is still cute.

• he cuddles or hugs you any chance he gets to make up for the many hours he spends on his computer away from you.

• since he’s a detective, he notices every detail including anything off about yourself. if something is wrong he will notice immediately no matter how good you are at hiding it, afterward he’d do pretty much anything to make you feel better. (even leave his computer for a day or so).

• he notices everything about you. favorite flower, favorite color, he always seems to notice that you’re cold even before you do and wraps his jacket around you. that intense focus can be a lot, sometimes, a bit overwhelming even. but at the same time you’re touched that he just seems so interested in everything about you. he wants to learn every last detail about you and is willing to take the time to do so.

• tim works really hard and doesn’t keep regular sleep patterns as a result, which means it’s up to you to make sure he gets proper sleep most of the time. plus, you’re one of the few people he actually listens to since you’re basically his favourite person. <33

• you have to learn most of his sweet spots to use against him whenever you’re trying to drag him away from the computer for a break.

• he remembers important dates even if it’s last minute— he still remembers. anniversaries, birthdays, you name it and if it’s anything to do with you then he’ll remember it and usually buys the best gifts for you.

• he celebrates the most ridiculous anniversaries, and he always remembers them. like, “it’s been one year since the first time you held my hand” or “it’s been a month since we went to that fair and rode the ferris wheel”.

• he lets you play with his hair and it’s so entertaining, he doesn’t mind and finds it relaxing when you run your fingers through it, he always checks to see what he looks like after you’ve styled it whether it be a man bun, ponytail, or braids. you told him that he looked good in a loose ponytail once and you he didn’t take it out for whole day.

• the two of you get take out food at least once a week because tim cannot cook to save his life, he just gets too distracted and the food gets burnt. he will also take time just to eat with you and ask about your day rather than work or will watch tv with you.

• tim LOVES watching detective shows with you but but sometimes it can get annoying because will usually ruin the ending by telling you who the criminal is and the exact reasons for his motives so it’s difficult to ignore the fact he just destroyed the next 45 minutes for you.

• he’s a literal genius so if you need help with anything he is on it, he’s actually written your essays for you before but you know that you couldn’t pass them off as your own because it’s not your writing style and you redo them using his basic ideas. you’re very appreciative of his assistance but tell him he doesn’t need to do that for you. however, he shakes it off as if it was nothing.

• he loves you and your acceptance of his coffee loving and sleep-deprived ways. <33

[lustlovehart]

Oh my gods, I was eating the sick!reader piece UPPPPP. 😩 Already re-read it like 5 times. Especially the Diasomnia part had me so good. Silver is the real MVP here.

Do you think you'd ever be willing to write about what'd happen if we didn't recover from an illness and specifically Lilia & Malleus got their way? I find their dynamic as yanderes always super interesting.

Ahh i’m so happy you liked it <33!!! Silver is basically your prince charming and it’s adorable!! Diasmonia was wayy longer than the other parts because the situation I decided on them was the most entertaining! Everyone else only thinking about turning you… They’re the ones who actually act on their thoughts (unfortunately).

(shh, he actually felt extremely guilty letting them do their thing, because no matter how hard he tries, he feels the same desire of you becoming one of them as well… the only thing that stops him is the fact you’ll be miserable, and he doesn’t know how he could live with that </3)

Pairing: [Monster!Twst] Diasmonia x Reader

Cw: You’re turned into a monster (Up to you what kind of monster, but there are scales and claws), Obsession, Craving Human, Kisses, Implied human eating (not a lot), It’s not said in the text but Malleus regenerates so he doesn’t lose a limb, Silver and Sebeks parts are kinda angsty

In the case you fall for your illness, they’re plans succeed, and you fall into a deep slumber. The last thing you see before your eyes shut, you see Silver, an apologetic frown looking at you as he mouths a silent ‘i’m sorry’. It’s enough to tug at your heartstrings, but the sight behind him immediately cuts any form of forgiveness you have.

Malleus’s cold-clawed fingers tracing up your arm, a soft smile on his face as his nail traces a pattern on your palm, Lilia playing with the bracelets gifted to you by the others on the table, and Sebek staring through the castles window, glowing eyes lighting the dark from his swamp.

“It will be over soon, Child of Hunters.”

…

The moment you jolt awake it feels as if you were forcibly taken from the afterlife, a feint memory of Idia desperately trying to pull you back into his arms before being dragged away. Your head is essentially a living furnace, flares happening every other moment leading to an excruciating headache. Despite the tremble in your hands, you reach up to soothe the thrumming, your fingertips coming into contact with skin.

But, rather than human, you feel pin sharp nails poke at your forehead.

You didn’t notice, not at all, with the blur in your vision it was practically impossible to see, but now with the newfound clearing in your sight you see it. Claws emerge from where your cuticles once rested, scales crawling up your skin. You throw the covers off your bed, the sleep wear concealing your horrific monstrous traits beneath the fabric, but it does nothing to rid the fear of what’s under your clothes.

“Mal… Malleus—!” your words are hoarse when you yell, a sign of your voice being unused for… you have no idea, but you know it’s a long time. “Damnit…! Malleus where are—?!” Your next step has you colliding with a stiff material, arms wrapping around you in an attempt of comfort. A fist is raised towards this entity, prepared to break wretched stone. “What the hell did you do to me Mal?!”

“… I’m so sorry.” the softness in his voice is different from the gargoyles, leading you to drop your hand, the only part of yourself you rest on him is your head, Silvers tough muscle tensing before gradually relaxing.

“… No you’re not.” your fresh fangs bite into your lip, your claws reaching into his bicep and burying them self into the dreameaters skin.

Silver hesitates for a moment, before speaking again, “I really am”. His previous pause has you doubt him, but the way he tightens his arms around you tells you he’s being entirely truthful, unfortunately.

You can feel a sting in your eyes, a familiar feeling of tears ready to burst, yet it’s like your tear ducts burned away with your humanity. But that’s not the thing that disturbs you in this moment, no…

It’s the way your stomach is desperate for food. A food you never wished to eat,

“It seems you’re in desperate need for food, yes?” the voice you were looking for emerges from behind you, a stone hand dragging your sleepwear down your shoulder, placing a hard kiss against your scaly skin. You’re quick to slap Malleus away, your claws cutting a strand of his mossy hair.

“Oh, be careful new one, it would do no good to hurt your potential supplier~” another equally disliked voice enters the fray, Lilia floating right next to you.

“Like hell i’m eating human…!”

“I wouldn’t advise not doing it, you’ll die a more painful death than you did a few years ago.” Malleus interjects, his pleasant smile falling into a much more serious frown.

“That’s better than becoming one of you bastards—” You pause your spiel, your legs buckling at his words, a great shock that has you falling into Lilias's arms, and not even fighting back. “… years?” Lilia's hand pets your head, a pathetic attempt at soothing you that only furthers your despair. “You’re joking… But, everyone else… Everyone else…!” you throw yourself back up, pushing Malleus against the wall, a hard clash sounding at stone hitting stone. “What the hell happened to them?! The monsters… Jack… Neige…!” your eyes burn like you’re crying, but you know you’re not. You hiccup before dropping to the floor, the last name that leaves your lips causing your last shred of sanity to snap. “… Rollo.”

For a moment, Malleus’s eyes glare at you, but they’re quick to disappear when he falls to his knees.

You despise it, you despise how even in your current panic, all you can think about is consuming. You grit your teeth, resisting all desire, but the sound of wind has you knowing something will happen, something that will test your patience. Your eyes are closed when Lilia’s hand takes yours, placing a kiss on your wrist before leaving you with his words of departure. “Do try to not eat all of Malleus, new beastie.”

You can’t question him before his presence disappears, but before you know it, when your eyes reopen, you don’t see stone, only pure human. “Malleus… What are you…?” He lifts his arm to your mouth, your lips attaching to his skin while his forehead rests on yours, looking right into your eyes. You can feel your canines put pressure on him.

“You’re what you are now because my affection for you runs so deep…” his free arm reaches behind you, pushing your head into his limb, “that I will do anything for you to stay alive, and here, together.” his voice is low, your jaw trembling with the urge to eat. But his words gnaw into your soul.

… Is this really living to him?

…

You rest your head on Lilia’s shoulder, his deep voice humming as he wipes your mouth clean. “Did you enjoy it?” your silence tells him not to inquire further, but in truth, you hate the fact… that you did enjoy it. “Hm, well, if you’re not satisfied with just Malleus…” his clawed finger taps your lips, red eyes piercing your soul, “I’ll always offer myself up for you too~”

He laughs at the way you glare at his joke, only continuing to rest yourself on his shoulder.

You stare deep into the swamp as Lilia continues to hum, hoping he will emerge. And he does, but he’s quick to disappear just as quickly as he appeared.

“Why did you want this for me…?” your ask has him pause, his finger pushing your head up and off his shoulder. “I just wanted…” you pause, Lilia patiently waiting for the rest of your sentence, yet there’s nothing more to be said. His thumb swipes across you bottom lift, showing you all signs of you feast had been wiped clean.

“Everyone wants something, whether it be human or immortal.” you bury yourself in your arms, the moon reflective on the mystery creature's pale exterior. “And you want to know why it is I wished for this?” he uses his hand to signal at your body, his smile disappearing, an all too serious expression painted on his features. He leans into your face, a few centimeters stopping him from being directly on your skin.

For a moment, a single second, it’s like his scarlet eyes share every single moment of greed and cruelty in his hundreds of years alive, even moments from before his improved personality. A cruel beast who’s a monster just for the sake of being one… It’s gone in that same second.

“Because you’re so adorable!”

“…Go away Lilia.”

“You’re hurting my feelings… And I thought you wanted a bite of me.” you glare at him again but this time he doesn’t laugh, only smiles, “You’ll learn how mucher crueler the world is as a human… We only wish to protect you.” and with that, he’s gone, leaving you and the creature of the swamp alone.

…

“Sebek?” you dip your hand into the water, splashing the liquid up. But to no avail, he doesn't appear, a different monster answering your calling.

“I don’t know if he wants to see you.” you turn around to see Silver, his eyes looking into yours, but you can tell how hard he’s trying to avoid looking at your new monstrous traits. You can’t fault him though, the sight of your replaced eyes in the water sends chills up your spine.

“It’s not like i’m the one who asked for this…” you throw a stick in the water, hoping maybe it’ll darth through the marsh and poke the beast underneath.

“I— He knows…”

“Great! So what’s his problem?” Silver doesn't reply, but to be fair, you don’t think he knows the answer either. “… He left me flowers while I was dying.”

“He did?” Silver sits next to you, he eyes focused on your rather than the ripples you trace into the water with your claw.

“Mhm. I never saw him do it though.” you can see Silver’s reflection staring at you, but you can’t bear to look back, only continuing to draw on the surface.

“That’s… Nice.” he watches you stop, the waves halting as well, the silence that hangs in the air suffocating. You grit your teeth, turning your head but not looking him in the eyes, eyes that are far too kind for a monster of his caliber. You fixate on the place his heart would be if he was human.

It was meant to distract you, but it instead has you wonder, maybe Silvers's warmth would be much stronger had he had the makeup of a mortal. Such hypotheticals are better left in your head though, and you know this. It doesn’t stop you from taking his hand in yours, squeezing his limb as you force your words out.

“Did you want me to be a monster too Silver?” his stoic expression widens, hesitation evident, before his head hangs in shame when he finally tells his truth.

“I… Don’t know.” he watches you stand up, making no effort to stop you, but very obviously tensing at the prospect of you leaving. “I just… I just knew I didn’t want you to die painfully somewhere we can’t reach you…!” he’s about to jump up to meet you eye to eye, stopped by you placing a flower on his head.

“That’s something I knew would happen, something I signed up for.” you both stay still, only looking at each other. This contact is broken when Silver lets the flower fall, his head resting on your bottom half.

“I know… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t feel this way, but…” he expects you to leave when he feels you shift, but instead, relaxes when you let him continue to rest his head on your lap. All his words die in his throat, but you know what he meant to say. Truth be told though, you don’t know if you’re okay with it.

…

Your bottom half is cold as you sit in the water, staring directly at Sebek under the water.

“Can you come out? I don’t wanna risk being a non-marine based monster and drowning.”

“I don’t think so human, I don’t wan to risk— Er…!” He jolts at the mistake he made in his burgled voice, further burying himself into the water. You lean over, your hand reaching out to dunk one of his flowers beneath the surface, he quirks an eye at the action.

“You never visited me when I was dying.” your words have him furrow his brows, but he doesn’t give you a reply nor explanation. “Why is that Sebek?” a moment passes, a few moments, before he emerges from the water, his large form moving towards you on the ledge. His large arms cage you between the side of his marsh and his body, golden slit eyes staring into you.

“I did not want to see that.” His eyes move down your new form, scales, claws, canines, and all, he sees it all in his mind. “You bedridden… It’s a weak sight. It’s like you were giving in, it was cowardly.”

“Aren’t you the one who said all mortals are pathetically weak?”

“They are! You are!” Sebek pushes back, the water splashing at the outburst. “But you’re not supposed to be!” his tail swings in the water causing a wave to move towards you. “You weren’t supposed to die… You were meant to prove me wrong…” you’re about to move towards him before he stops you, a single outstretched webbed hand in your face. “But now you’re here because you proved me right… Humans are weak, pathetic… evil…” he slowly moves towards you again, wavering clear in the way he slowly places his forehead on your shoulder. “It’s why you can’t be one anymore… you can’t be any of those things...”

There are two directions I think their scheme could end, one where they successfully stop anyone else from the cast from knowing your current predicament, and one where your current state is found out by everyone else. If the latter were to happen, it doesn’t matter where their domain is, they will show up to Diasmonia and demand to see you. A vast majority will wish to have you in their care, while the ones who never wished for you to be a monster, will make sure you don’t fall into the other's hands.