#the owl house locked out

[lilacthebooklover]

3, 9, and 22 from this ask game

Of course! Thank you for participating! Here, have a piece of writing...

3) That encompasses my style (@acacia-may)

Hmm... My style's developed a lot over the years, and while I haven't had much time to write lately, I do think this little bit of Clamour from a couple months ago works pretty well! It's got the signature Lilac Anaphora, lots of flowery language, an abundance of commas and a little hint of enjambment as a metaphor for mental decline. (Sorry Acacia, I know you aren't in the fandom!! If you like, you can always submit another ask- 3 is just one that I struggled to think of something for :'])

His spiral down into insanity was not a quick process, nor was it without turmoil. It had been torturous, losing himself to the whispers inside of his brain, every thought overcome by that intoxicating need for more. His heart thrummed in his ears with each movement he made, fingers itching with the need to puppeteer once more, his head full of a throbbing, pulsating, incessant craving for control. Hiding it had been easy enough. His friends were long-since accustomed to his eccentricities, so when he began acting a little more oddly than usual, no-one batted an eye. He kept his lips sewn firmly shut and a toothy smile across his face, the chanting in his head growing louder and louder and louder with every lie he told. Maybe if he’d have been a little stronger, he’d have been able to overcome it. Maybe he would have told his friends. Maybe he would have been good enough to give up the power slowly killing him from the inside. Letting go was as inevitable as it was involuntary, in the end. As the floodgates burst, a rush of distorted euphoria like nothing before had sunk deep into his soul, a growing hunger beginning to fester within him. It grew and grew, and he took and took, and his friends fell with him as he watched , and he laughed and cackled because wasn’t it so ironic that anything heavenly or good be quashed in a place that couldn’t possibly hope to fathom it, and eventually, he had stopped caring about anything at all. The other Fallen Heroes mean nothing to him. His friends had died with him all those decades ago, only crude facsimiles of their former selves remaining. So here he is, the only performer left on a dusty set of cobwebs, and that hunger inside of him never stops. Something akin to loneliness aches alongside it, the lingering results of his isolation digging in deep and refusing to grant him even a moment of solace.

9) With characters I love

For this one, I think I'm going to have to go with an extract from Take A Bow- I'm hyperfixating hard on CRK at the moment lol. This was my first time writing both Pure Vanilla & Shadow Milk, and it was a lot of fun imagining how the story might progress before Theatre of Lies was released!!

Just as quickly as the darkness had arrived, a face shot out of the tree like a jack-in-the-box, sharp white teeth glinting down at them in a twisted, elated grin. A warped, reversed version of Pure Vanilla’s own symbol gleamed in the newfound turquoise light, his breath catching in his throat as he remembered all that Elder Faerie had told them. This must be the Beast who had originally possessed Pure Vanilla’s soul jam. The blonde found his hand subconsciously drifting to the crest on his own chest, gaze darting rapidly over every aspect of the uncaged monster’s face. “Ah!” A long, high exclamation pierced through the quiet, just as delighted as its voice’s owner. “Doesn’t this fresh air just feel… Divine?!” The last word ended in a growl, something manic heightening even further as the creature lazily surveyed its surroundings. Its unwavering stare passed over each of them in turn, finally settling on Pure Vanilla. Something in its glare sharpened, distorted cerulean light dancing along iridescent pools of insanity. “Oh, I see I have quite an audience here,” it remarked, its jauntiness seeming far too out of place amidst their own fearful grimaces. “I am so terribly sorry to have kept you waiting.” The voice fluctuated between shrill shrieks and inhuman snarls, every word laced with venomous glee. Its head alone was larger than all of them combined, and Pure Vanilla was loath to imagine how excessive the casualties would be if they were to instigate another fight. “But now… The wait is over. Your favourite trickster is here,” it lowered its head in a flamboyant half-bow. Its value had become Deceit, Pure Vanilla recalled. Undeniable intelligence shone among clear madness, for this was a being born of knowledge and corrupted into lies. It was– “Shadow Milk Cookie.”

22) That is so blissfully self-indulgent

Here, have a snippet of an Owl House AU I came up with on a whim one night in which I threw Caleb Wittebane into the future and leapt over plot holes like they were hurdles on an obstacle course >:]

Caleb was going to die. There was a dagger in his brother’s hand, glinting with the dark promise of blood to be spilt and aimed directly at him, merciless and unwavering in its pursuit. Caleb’s breath caught in his chest as he stumbled backwards, heartbeat pounding in his ears with a new sort of rapidity. It used to be such a thrilling feeling: the quick yet predictable pounding against his ribs, excitement making his lips quirk or anticipation leaving them agape. It was the adrenaline that used to come with a hunt, the dread and uncertainty and wonder that brewed within him as he stepped through that portal, the butterflies fluttering in his stomach that only Evelyn could incur. Now, his heart threw itself desperately against the confines of its prison, nausea rising within Caleb’s throat and poison in his mind because he was about to die, to be killed at the hands of the person he loved more than anything. The person he had loved more than anything. The person he’d given up everything for. The person he’d raised since childhood. Ever since Caleb was young, Philip had been his biggest priority. Their parents passed when they were both young, Philip so much so that he could scarcely remember them. It fell to Caleb to raise his brother, working odd jobs so they could afford accommodations as they passed from town to town. In a world where no-one could be trusted and not a soul was on their side, it had been Caleb’s responsibility to keep his little sibling safe. To keep him alive, protected. To keep him well. Looking at the pure resentment in Philip’s glare, Caleb wondered how it had all gone so wrong. He knew, really, exactly the reason behind his brother’s murderous intent; it simply seemed impossible to associate his hopeful, smiling, playful Philip with the spite-fuelled monster before him. His head swam with memories long since tainted by acidic regret. There were so, so many ways he could have prevented this situation, eradicated even the possibility of Philip wishing harm upon him. So many things he could have done. So many things he didn’t do, and here he was now, paying the price. Caleb’s days were numbered, he’d always known that. His fate was sealed as soon as he first took Evelyn’s hand.

Thanks again for the asks! <3

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

If luz really did stay behind in the demon realm in kings tide then i wonder if she would have escaped from being turned into a puppet like everyone else. Probably not bc the collector would still have king and she wouldnt leave king behind.

Or maybe the collector would have straight up killed her. They definitely want to by the end of this episode anyway.

[inkskinned]

she's three years younger than i am, and i put on cascada as a throwback, cackling - before your time! i've been borrowing my brother's car, and it's older than dirt, so the trunk is like, maybe permanently locked. when the sun comes through the window to frame her cheekbones, i feel like i'm 16 again. i shake when i'm kissing her, worried i won't get it right.

in 2003, my state made gay marriage legal. where she grew up, it wasn't legal until 11 years later - 10 years ago. if legal protections for gay marriage were a person, that person would be entering 5th grade. online, a white gay man calls the fight for legal marriage boring, which isn't kind of him but it is a common enough opinion.

it has only been 9 years since gay marriage was nationally official. it is already boring to have gay people in your tv. it is already boring to mention being gay - "why make it your entire personality?" i know siblings that have a larger age gap than the amount of time it's been legally protected. i recently saw a grown man record himself crying about how evil gay people are. he was begging us, red in the face - just do better.

i am absolutely ruined any time my girlfriend talks about being 27 (i know!! a child!), but we actually attended undergrad at the same time since i had taken off time to work between high school and college. while walking through the city, we drop our hands, try not to look too often at each other. the other day i went to an open mic in a basement. the headlining comedian said being lesbian isn't interesting, but i am a lesbian, if you care. as a joke, she had any lesbian raise their hand if present. i raised mine, weirdly embarrassed at being the single hand in a sea of other faces. she had everyone give me a round of applause. i felt something between pride and also throwing up.

sometimes one thing is also another thing. i keep thinking about my uncle. he died in the hospital without his husband of 35 years - they were not legally wed, so his husband could not enter. this sounds like it should be from 1950. it happened in 2007. harassment and abuse and financial hardship still follow any person who is trying to get married while disabled. marriage equality isn't really equal yet.

and i don't know that i can ever put a name to what i'm experiencing. sometimes it just feels... so odd to watch the balance. people are fundamentally uninterested in your identity, but also - like, there's a whole fucking bastion of rabid men and women who want to kill you. your friends roll their eyes you're gay we get it and that is funny but like. when you asked your father do you still love me? he just said go to your room. you haven't told your grandmother. disney is on their 390th "first" gay representation, but also cancelled owl house and censored the fuck out of gravity falls. you actively got bullied for being gay, but your advisor told you to find a different gimmick for your college essay - everyone says they're gay these days.

once while you were having a hard day you cried about the fact that the reason our story is so fucking boring to so many people is that it is so similar. that it is rare for one of us to just, like, have a good experience across the board. that our stories often have very parallel bends - the dehumanization, the trauma, the trouble with trusting again. these become rote instead of disgusting. how bad could it be if it is happening to so many people?

i kiss my girlfriend when nobody is looking. i like her jawline and how her hands splay when she's making a joke. there is nothing new about this story, sappho. i love her like opening up the sun. like folding peace between the layers of my life, a buttercream of euphoria, freckles and laughter and wonder.

my dad knows about her. i've been out to him since i was 18 - roughly four years before the supreme court would protect us. the other day he flipped down the sun visor while driving me to the eye doctor. "you need to accept that your body was made for a husband. you want to be a mother because you were made for men, not women." he wants me to date my old high school boyfriend. i gagged about it, and he shook his head. he said - "don't be so dramatic. you can get used to anything."

the other day a straight friend of mine snorted down her nose about it, accidentally echoing him - she said there are bigger problems in this world than planning a wedding.

[submattsmxmmy]

🥀🕊 dead dove: don't eat (this fic contains dark material - read at your own risk)

hiiii, it's @ariestrxsh (this is my backup account, and here is my contribution to kinktober 🖤 no taglist included on this account bc it would be really complicated)

🥀🕊 content warning: smut, prey/predator dynamic, primal kink, establishment of safeword, knifeplay, rough sex, degradation, daddy kink, roughdom!chris

🥀🕊 author's note: if the idea of being chased around in the forest at night and then being brutally fucked by chris sturniolo doesn't sound fun to you, don't read this!!! i don't ever want my writing to trigger, offend, or upset anyone, so please just skip this one if the material sounds unpleasant to you. this is just for those of us who have this little dark fantasy. 🖤

🥀🕊 summary: while housesitting for your boss, an unsuspecting visitor drops by, and the night takes a twist.

a forest

"I'll give you a two-minute headstart," he rasped into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You took off, sprinting into the vast forest that was lit up by the full moon. Your sneakers crushed twigs and dead leaves as you wandered deeper into the woods.

You stopped for a moment to take in the sound of your surroundings, but the silence was eerie and unnerving. So quiet you could hear your heart about to pound out of your chest, along with the sound of adrenaline pumping your blood through your veins.

The thick, grey clouds in the sky slowly moved into the way of the moon, obstructing the light it emmited momentarily. You were excited to be chased, but something about this situation still triggered a primal fear in you. You started to run again, trying not to lose your sense of direction along with all the other sensory deprivation you were experiencing.

Suddenly, your shoelace snagged on a branch that had fallen, launching you forward into the forest floor beneath you.

*flashback to several hours earlier*

Your car made its way down the winding dirt road as you navigated directions to your boss' house, the branches above creating a dense canopy above you while you meandered through the tunnel of trees.

She was a sweet lady who owned the dog grooming business you worked at, and she was offering you some extra money to house sit for her, feed her cats, and water her plants while she was away on vacation.

It was a nice way to make some extra cash, and a nice way for you to get away from your roommates for a little while and enjoy some peace and quiet in the little woodsy area she lived in. An even bigger plus, she told you to help yourself to any of the food in her fridge and pantry, so it wouldn't spoil or go stale in the time that she was gone.

You slammed on your brakes, nearly losing traction and kicking up dirt as a fawn leaped out of nowhere and into the path of your car and stopped a few feet in front of your headlights. Your heart raced, but you immediately let out a sigh of relief as it got away safely and trotted off in another direction.

You'd never been to your boss' place before, but it wasn't hard to find, considering it was the only house around, and the nearest neighbors were at least a couple of miles away. You located your destination, and as you slowly ascended the driveway and admired the wooden structure, the full clouds above you started to release a light drizzle of rain.

It was a big, gorgeous, and charming home. You could tell a lot of work and money had gone into it, and you were even more excited to see the inside. You slung your bag over your shoulder, stepped out into the rain, and found the creepy owl statue, which the house key was hidden under. You put the key in the lock, turned it until you heard the click, and let yourself in.

It had a very rustic vibe, which really fit your boss, and you were so lost in the decor and the architecture that you were startled when a sweet, long-haired, black cat appeared at your feet and started rubbing up against your bare leg. She placed her two front paws on your black Converse shoe and peered up at you. "Hi, sweetie," you whispered, squatting down to let her smell you.

After she sniffed you for a few seconds, she drove her sweet face into your hand, and you scratched her under the chin. She started walking off in the other direction, looking back at you as if she wanted you to follow her.

You walked through the hall, through the living room, and into the dining room where two empty food bowls sat on the ground next to the fridge. "Awh, are you hungry?" You asked the cat as if she could respond to you, and you emptied a bit of dry food into both of the bowls, and as the sound of kibble ricocheting off the metal containers filled the room, another cat came bounding into view.

He was a short-haired brown tabby with white paws and a bit of white at the tip of his tail, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he got a look at you and ran the other direction to find something to hide under. "Can't win them all over, huh?" You said, peering down at the black cat as she gobbled up her food. She glanced back up at you and let out a soft meow as if she understood and went back to snacking.

You slowly walked through the rest of the house, acquainting yourself with the layout. You found your way to the guest room, which was right where you were told it was. Two doors down on the left after you walked through the second hallway that connected the kitchen to the bedrooms.

You set your bag down on the bed you'd be sleeping in tonight and backtracked to the kitchen to check out the drink and snack selection. You found a bottle of bourbon stored in the pantry that looked pretty fancy. You were of age, and your boss did say you could have any food or beverages she had, so you poured yourself a glass of bourbon over ice after you'd found her stash of whiskey glasses.

You grabbed some garlic stuffed olives from the fridge along with some aged cheddar and crackers you found, and you made your way to the living room to check out the entertainment. While you were flipping through apps on the television, you noticed some pictures above the fireplace.

Your boss had mentioned she had a son your age, but you'd never seen him until your gaze landed on his senior photo. "Holy shit," you whispered, admiring his beautiful smile and his lovely, blue eyes. Why hadn't your boss told you her son was so hot?

You popped an olive into your mouth and washed it down with a small sip of bourbon as you studied the picture collection she had on the mantel above the fireplace. Your eyes were immediately drawn to all the pictures of her son, and you couldn't help but allow your mind to wander while you looked at his photos. You'd never seen a man so attractive before.

You picked up a photograph of him in which he was shirtless and carried it back over to the couch with you. After looking at his picture a bit longer and taking a few more sips of your alcoholic drink, you turned your attention back to the television.

The sun had set by now, and you'd settled on watching Jennifer's Body. You'd seen it a dozen times before, but it was the only movie that sparked your interest after looking through several films on several different streaming services. Plus, you thought the movie was fitting, given it was October.

You were drinking your second glass of bourbon while you snacked on cheese and crackers when the scene came on where Jennifer and Needy make out. You were so lost in the steamy kiss that you had no idea anyone was in the room with you.

"Whatcha watching?" A voice came out of nowhere. You snapped your neck around, nearly dropping your drink, paused the movie, and asked, "Who the fuck are you?" before you could take in any of the boy's features. "I'm Chris. Who the fuck are you?" He returned the question, snorting at you.

"Sorry, you must be my boss' son," you quickly apologized, realizing he was the same man in the pictures. He was even more attractive in person. You stood up, wiping your crumby hands off on your striped shirt and your cut-off jean shorts.

You introduced yourself and extended your hand to shake his, but his gorgeous blue eyes flicked to the photo you had of him on the coffee table in front of you. "Like that picture of me?" He flashed you his million-dollar smile.

You ignored his question that felt like more of an accusation. "Sorry, I didn't know you'd be here. I was told I'd be staying here all alone," you responded, still caught off guard by his presence. "Well, I didn't know anyone would be here either. My mom told me someone was watching the cats, but I didn't know that meant you'd be here full time," Chris said, still caught off guard by your presence.

"Well, your mom told me I could sleep here and eat what you guys had in the fridge. I'm not doing anything weird," you replied. "Sure, you're not," Chris smirked, his gaze flicking back up at the frozen frame on the television of the girl-on-girl kiss scene you were watching. "It's not weird at all to watch porn on your boss' couch while you have a picture of her son next to you."

"Oh, my god, I'm not watching porn. This is just some horror movie on Hulu," you turned bright red, reaching for the remote and shutting off the film. "Well, either way, I won't tell my mom you're drinking her bourbon and watching softcore lesbian porn in her living room as long as you don't tell my mom I stop by here sometimes when she's out of town. I have a long weekend, and I just wanted to get away from my dormmates and come spend some time alone here," Chris told you.

"It's not porn.. whatever," you shook your head, giving up trying to defend yourself. "Your secret is safe with me," you said, taking in all his aesthetically pleasing features. "You don't mind if I hang out and stay the night here, do you? I just drove like two and a half hours, and I'm pretty tired," he bit his lip at you, and you nearly melted.

"No, I don't mind. After all, it is your house." Chris plopped down on the couch next to you and pulled out some rolling papers and a bag of weed. "You smoke?" He asked, looking up at you. "Yeah," you responded, sitting back down on the couch beside him.

"Smoke this joint with me on the deck?" He offered, while he packed the paper full of ground weed. "Sure," you accepted. He looked into your eyes while he licked and sealed the joint. "Follow me," he muttered as he stood up and started to make his way to the back door that led out to the wooden deck that wrapped around the back-half of the house.

The rain had let up by now, but the scent still lingered in the air. The two of your found yourselves leaning over the railing, staring up at the full moon and the few stars that were visible between the clouds while you passed the lit joint back and forth.

"Guess I should have asked this before I invited you to smoke with me, but how old are you?" He wondered. "Twenty-one. How about you?" You asked, giving him the joint back after blowing a puff of smoke into the air. "Same. You like working for my mom?" He wondered, glancing over at you.

"Yeah, actually. You know, everyone really respects her because she's a little bit of a hard ass, but she's really understanding. She doesn't treat us like cogs in her machine like some of my former employers. She treats us like we're actually human," you shrugged. "That's been my experience with her, too. She's a no-bullshit type of woman. Kind of hard on you when you need it. But a really caring and genuine person," Chris told you, taking another hit.

"What are you studying in school?" You asked him. "I've changed my major like a dozen times because I can't focus on any one thing, but right now, I'm leaning towards something in finance," he replied.

"I like the taste of these rolling papers," you told him. "Yeah? They're vanilla," he responded. "That's the best flavor. Except when it comes to sex," you mumbled under your breath and giggled. "Oh, yeah?" Chris raised his eyebrows and glanced at you, smiling and shocked to hear you say such a thing. "How freaky are you?" He asked, taking another puff off the joint.

"Well, freaky is subjective," you started off. "And that's how I know you're a freak," Chris glared in your direction, still smiling. "If you'd given me a definitive no, when then, that answers that question. If you'd given me a definitive yes, that could have meant that your definition of freaky is like getting your hair pulled while you're in doggy or something," he replied, passing you back the doobie. "Well, I do like that," you chuckled. "Yeah, but what other freaky shit are you into?" Chris' curiosity had been sparked.

"I'm not telling you. I just met you," You widened your eyes at Chris and shot him an embarrassed smile. "You're the one that brought it up. I'll tell you what I'm into if you tell me what you're into," Chris promised, dying to hear you confess all your naughty fantasies to him. You rolled your eyes at him while you heavily blushed.

"Okay, fine. I really like being tied up, spit on, choked, slapped around, having my hair pulled.." You started to say, but your voice trailed off. "What else, pretty girl? I can tell you're holding back with me," Chris lowered his gaze to your lips. "Well, you might judge me," you said, taking a puff of the joint and returning it to Chris. "I don't kink-shame," Chris chuckled in a low voice.

"Okay, well I like being degraded, humiliated, talked down to, that kind of thing," you responded, nibbling on your lip and looking for Chris' reaction. "Keep going," he encouraged you, intrigued to hear what else you were going to say. "I kind of get turned on by things that would scare the average person. Like knives, blood, and like being chased. Stuff like that," you admitted, gazing down at the ground, afraid of what he'd think of you.

"Such a little whore," he said in a seductive tone. Your heart raced, and you peered up at him. "What a coincidence, because I like degrading and humiliating girls like you, and I love to hunt my prey before I fuck it," Chris curled his lips into a menacing smile while his dark eyes piercing through you. He put out the joint and clenched his jaw at you waiting for you to say something, but the words were caught in your throat.

"I mean, I'm making assumptions here, but I think you're into me, and I think you want me to chase you," Chris sneered at you, tilting your chin up at him. You hesitantly nodded your head. "You can be my little fawn, and I'll be the hungry coyote," Chris cooed, running his thumb along your bottom lip that was pink with arousal. You nodded again. He took a few steps closer to you until you could feel the warmth coming off his body.

"Just remember. I know this forest better than you do, princess," his words triggered the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. "In honor of Halloween, your safeword is Beetlejuice."

You weren't sure how long you'd been running for. It could have been forty-five seconds, or it could have been ten minutes. You felt disoriented, your perception seemingly disconnected from reality as time seemed to fold in on itself. The smell of wet dirt filled your senses as you got a face full of it. You placed both of your hands on the soil and grass beneath you to prop yourself back up onto your feet, but your shoelace was still stuck.

Instead, you scooted yourself down towards your feet, frantically reaching around for the branch you were caught on. After fiddling around with it for a few seconds, you whispered to yourself, "Shit." You ultimately decided to pull your shoelace untied, and tried to knot it back up quickly before getting to your feet and bounding further into the woods.

You weren't sure if you were even running the right way or if you were tracing your footsteps back from where you just came. That's when you heard his footsteps, dead autumn leaves crushing under his weight, and you whipped around in the direction you heard the crunch.

You hoped it was the attractive boy you just met, stealthily setting his sights on you through the trees where he could see you but you couldn't see him, rather than an actual coyote, but you expected him to chase you and tackle you right away. Instead, he was behaving like a four-legged wild animal - stalking you. Hunting you.

You heard a few more brittle leaves and twigs crack as he slowly stepped closer to you. You took off, sprinting as fast as you could, still a bit unsure about what was chasing you. He was hot on your heels, and you made it only a few more feet before he lunged forward, grappling you to the forest floor.

You fell on your stomach, and the pressure knocked the air out of you. You were almost relieved when you felt human hands tearing at your clothes, and you heard Chris whisper, rasping in your ear from behind you, "Gotcha!" He ripped your shirt off of your torso in a swift motion, and you gasped as you tried to get away from him, but his hands were strong, and he had all his body weight on you, his erection stabbing you in the backside as you squirmed, digging your nails into the soil beneath you.

You grew increasingly wet as you heard him fiddle with his belt buckle and his zipper. Then he tugged your shorts down and took them off you. He didn't waste his time, pulling your panties to the side and lining his length up with your entrance.

He roughly pushed into you, causing you to sharply inhale and whimper as he started moving his hips back and forth, stretching you out. You'd been caught and defeated, but you loved every second of the way Chris took you. You began arching your back and leaning back into the boy while he fucked you senseless.

You could hear his deep, animalistic grunts in your ear and you could feel his hot, shallow breath on the back of your neck. You couldn't conceal how much you loved it. You threw your head back and let out a few loud, satisfied sounds.

Your hands and your knees dug into the soft ground beneath you while you graciously took Chris' rod. He pounded into you, the sound of his hips slamming into your ass echoed throughout the forest and reverberated through your body. Chris placed his hand on the back of your head and pressed the side of your face into the dirt while he began to fuck you harder.

"You fucking love it, don't you? Such a worthless little cunt," Chris grunted breathlessly. You responded by rolling your eyes back into your head and moaning at his words. "I'm gonna flip you around, slut, and if you try to run away from me, it's not gonna go well for you," he whispered in a raspy voice.

As soon as he pulled himself out of you and went to grab you and turn you onto your back, you jumped up and took off running in nothing but your thong and your sneakers. You couldn't wait to see what he had in mind.

"Bitch!" Chris growled as he pulled up his pants and started chasing after you again. You didn't get far before he tackled you to the ground again and flipped you onto your back. "What did I fucking tell you? Defiant little brat. You're gonna be sorry you ran from me," Chris chuckled under his breath as he nudged your legs open and pinned both your wrists above your head with one of his strong, veiny hands.

You watched Chris pull something out of his pocket, and you noticed the way the moonlight bounced off of it and made it glimmer. It was something long and metal. As well as sharp, you noted as Chris started teasing you with it. He took the blade and started running it along the center of your rib cage.

He brought the knife up to your chest and started grazing the curve of your breasts. Your breath quickened. You shuddered at the feeling of the cool metal as he subtly grazed your nipples with it. He did this over and over until adrenaline was flowing through you. You were both worried and excited that he may actually draw blood.

He dragged the cold, sharp edge down your stomach and replaced the tantalizing feeling of the blade against the sensitive buds on your chest with his soft, pouty lips. He engulfed each nipple, swirling his tongue around and eliciting sweet whines from you while the knife grazed the insides of your thighs. You felt it rest up against your vulva through your panties, and suddenly, Chris took the switchblade, hooked it into the strap of your underwear, and sliced them off of you.

You gasped and squirmed beneath him, fear and excitement flooding your system. The forest was so eerily quiet besides the sounds of your desperate mewls that Chris could hear your heartbeat. "Do you trust me?" Chris whispered in a creepy voice as he took the switchblade and held it up to your neck, nestling his cock back into your sweet, wet pussy.

You barely knew him, but you had to trust him. After all, he was weilding a weapon and holding it about an inch away from your carotid artery and one subtle move, purposeful or accidental, could end your life or at the very least, put you in critical condition. "Yes," you managed to choke out.

"Your pussy is all mine. You're nothing more than my little cock sleeve. Isn't that right?" Chris degraded you while he thrusted into you, still holding your wrists down overhead. It turned you on even more that you were letting a stranger fuck you, and not just any stranger - your boss' son.

"Fuck, you take daddy's cock so well," he chuckled, causing you to smile and letting your eyes roll back into your head once more. You hadn't even told Chris about your daddy kink, but it's like he could smell it on you. "Yes, daddy," you whined as he pounded deep into you, hitting the spot with every stroke. He knew just what to say and do and how to fuck you just right.

Chris loved the way your cunt swallowed his length perfectly and how warm and wet you were as he did what he pleased. He loved the way you were getting off on your own fear and adrenaline. He could feel you losing control, your body convulsing beneath him and your tight hole rhythmically clenching around him. Waves of euphoria traveled through your veins, filling every one of your senses with pleasure.

"You're so pathetic and needy to cum, aren't you?" Chris cooed in a condescending tone. "Yes, daddy," you whimpered. "I don't know if you deserve to. You've been such a naughty girl," he shot back. "Please, daddy," you whined, squirming around. He relished in the way you begged over and over, flirting with the idea of letting you cum with every desperate plea that escaped your lips.

"Beg harder for it, slut," Chris replied in a deep voice. "Daddy, please, I need it," you cried out. He delivered a few more hard thrusts before he gave in to your whining. "Okay, fine. Cum on my daddy's cock, slut," Chris huffed, pressing the knife to your neck with just a bit more pressure.

All you needed were those magic words, and you reached the point of no return. Your orgasm swept you under like a strong current you couldn't stop, carrying you in its flow, and you surrendered to the feeling. It ripped through you mercilessly, leaving you in a pool of your own drool and cum. You spasmed around Chris' cock while you finished onto him.

The way your body reacted tipped Chris over the edge as well, sending him through the same euphoric sensations. He loudly moaned, slammed his eyes shut, and slacked his jaw before he pulled out and finished all over your stomach. He admired the way the moonlight caught his load and made it glitter against your flesh. "Fuck, I needed that," Chris breathlessly mumbled, squeezing out every last drop.

He switched the blade shut, put it back into his pocket, and pulled up his pants while the two of you caught your breath. Your legs were numb, and you couldn't think straight, recovering from the thrilling experience. You laid still for a few moments, your gaze fixed on the stars that were scattered overheard and barely visible through the storm clouds.

Chris grabbed you, slung your naked and mud-covered body over his shoulder, and then climbed to his feet to carry you back to the house. "Don't worry. I know exactly where we are. I'm gonna get you back safe."

[rottenherbs]

Opposites Attract F.W x f! Hufflepuff Reader

word count: 1.5k

Tags: Fluff, first meetings,

Summary: you and Fred have always caught eachothers eyes over the years but have never spoken. It isn't until you catch him trying to sneak into the kitchen 

authors notes: im such a Fred girl this was so natural to me omggggg. I also just got a request for a Harry imagine and am so damn excited for that eheheheh maybe it'll be spicer than these fluffy ones I've been doing.

//Requests are open! shoot me anything Golden Trio era <3//

Much love, Saige

————-

     It was simple. He was a quidditch player, you  were a scholar. He always got in trouble, you did your best to stay out of trouble. He came from a large family, you’re an only child. His hair red as fire and yours dark as stone. Even your  houses are completely different. It was never meant to be. 

Ever since your third year, your eyes have found their way to Fred Weasley. In the great hall when they loudly let off fireworks or in between classes when you found him asleep in the library dozed off with papers strewn across the table. You couldn’t help but to easily find him in crowds, immediately knowing whether the glowing red hair was his or his brother's George. There was something about him that captivated you.

While you kept your head low, the years went by and you crept into the castle for another year of schooling. Surrounded by other Hufflepuffs, the yellow enveloped you with every fiber of your being. Your friends followed you in hushed chuckles as you entered the great hall enjoying the feeling of being together once again. It wasn’t until you turned the corner that you found yourself scanning the hall that your eyes met his. looking away quickly you joined your friends at the hufflepuff table trying not to look his way again. 

When Fred looked at you, a sense of relief washed over his body, happy to see you came back to Hogwarts for another year. You two had this weird way of meeting each other, whether it was just locking eyes in the hallway, or being in the same place at the same time. He’s never really cared for Hufflepuffs. He found them rather toxically optimistic and quiet. His loud boisterous energy often bothered most hufflepuffs and they steered clear of each other. But you felt different. When your eyes met even for just a second it wasn’t filled with annoyance but curiosity. Fred has had his fair share of displeasing looks and can tell when someone is done with his shit. But you looked at him differently. 

Another year passed where he didn’t talk to you. His own feelings of being a teenage boy took over and he didn’t have time for girls. All he cared about was pranks and trying to do just enough to not get an owl sent back to his parents house. But over the summer he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Just the idea of you. He wasn’t confused; he knew it was a crush, but he never had these feelings be so overwhelming that it was noticeable by George. 

“mate she’s arrived” George says, nudging Fred. His eyebrows sag dramatically as Fred chuffs rolling his eyes. “But hey, you already knew that,” George finished smirking at his brother. Fred takes another look at you across the hall and feels a sense of determination to talk to you this year. No excuses. 

A few days have passed and the first week of classes is almost at an end. The first Friday of the school year has begun and most students were comfortable in their new schedules and the ecosystem of the school felt natural. Boys were messing with girls and houses already felt the clash of rivalry as students won and lost points. You got up early again and took your time getting ready knowing gryffindor and hufflepuff had Care of Magical Creatures together in the afternoon. It would be the first time you and Fred would be in close quarters, hypothetically of course as the class was in fact outside. You slipped on your socks and shoes and made your way to the common room a sense of relief knowing you had a few classes before you had to work up yourself for seeing him. A breath escapes your lips as you exit the common room and come face to face with Fred attempting to sneak into the kitchen, his hand still resting on the he doorknob frozen in place

“What you’re seeing is a figment of your imagination” Fred whispered, not moving an inch. A smile creeps over your face realizing what is happening.

“I can see you” you whisper

“No you cant” he whispers back quickly not missing a beat. You shift your weight and stand with your books on your hip. 

“Breakfast is in an hour, why are you sneaking in?” you inquire.He stays in the position you found him in. He sighs and stands up, his height towering over you making you look up to meet his gaze 

“Okay so what if I am an early eater. I’m a growing boy you know.” he says mimicking your pose, hand on his hip. 

“If you grow anymore and you’ll be through the ceiling” I say joking back. a sense of confidence coming over me. The fear of seeing him later all gone now that you were forced into this moment with him. 

“Here.” you say taking a step next to him in front of a large painting of a fruit bowl. Your hand lifts and grazes the pair tickling the painting revealing a large door that swings open. You look at Fred as his eyes widen. 

“So that's why the door wouldn’t budge” he chuffs, waiting for you to walk in first. 

“No use breaking in. Sometimes you just have to know who to ask” you smile up to him walking into the basking glow of the kitchen. Several small creatures are working on hundreds of dishes at once. The smell was overwhelming and delicious. A small house elf walks up to both of you. 

“Please can I get anything for you?” his little voice squeaks. You look at Fred as a way to show it was okay to respond. He clears his throat 

“Just a cheese toasty please…and two glasses of orange juice.” he says bowing to the small elf. A chuckle comes out of your mouth as the elf rushes to bring him what he requested. 

“This is better than sneaking in for sure.” he says, nudging you playfully. When the elf comes back his fingers snap and a set of chairs and a small table appear. 

“Please, sit, sit!” he grabs both of our hands and guides us to the small table. you were astounded at the service, never being in here while the elf’s were working. 

“oooo little brekky date eh” Fred laughs, pulling out your chair. You sit as a blush crossed your face at his notion. 

“Honestly I've had worse first dates.” he says, taking a bite of his sandwich without breaking eye contact. His confidence was unwavering and you couldn’t tell if he was just joking. 

“Yeah this is definitely a first.” you laugh nervously and grab the glass in front of you taking a small sip. 

“you know, i’ve never caught your name.” he says after a short period, his focus entirely on you. 

“it’s y/n.”  His heart warms. Finally, the name on the face of the girl he couldn’t stop thinking of. 

“Mmmm” he responds, taking another sip of juice. Before he could introduce himself 

“And you are Fred.” i say matter of factly a small smirk tugging at the corner of my lips 

“Ahh so you know me!” he says excitedly. Part of him was astounded that you were able to recognize that it was him and not his brother. Many people couldn't figure it out but you have. 

“The whole school knows of you.” you laugh back. He sits back and flips his collars 

“It's because I'm dashingly handsome.” a cocky facade taking over as his arms folded across his chest 

“Sure, something like that,” You joked, finishing your juice. You reposition my books in your hand catching a glimpse at the clock on the wall realizing your first class is only 20 minutes from now. Fred follows your eyes and disappointment flashes across his face. You had to leave. 

“Have to head out?” he says softly still sitting with his arms crossed 

“Yeah I'd hate to be late to potions.” you say glumly standing up from the table leaning on it trying to stay in this moment as long as possible. Fred nods knowingly at the wrath of Snape too well. 

“Thanks for the first date.” you say smiling down at fred. His eyes widened slightly. 

“Maybe I'll take you for a second after class later?” he says, fixing his collar and leaning forward placing his hand over yours. Your heart races at the action, the feeling of warmth spreading from your fingers throughout your body. You slip your hand from underneath to grab it for a second, squeezing it before letting it go. 

“we’ll see about that” 

[gallusrostromegalus]

I haven't seen any dog stories in a while. How are Charleston and The Hanukkah Goblin doing?

Dog updates!

The first one is a little sad, but also how life should go. Arwen is 14 now and while she's still moving, eating, pooping and generally enjoying life, she also has canine dementia and sundown syndrome where she gets extremely nervous and her dementia gets worse after dark. She'll be with us for a while yet, but it's something we have to manage now.

One person who is very much helping her manage is Herschel. My parents are traveling a lot while they still have the knees for it so I spend a lot of time up at their house, and Charleston and Herschel come up too. Being a Corgi, Herschel likes to manage things, and Arwen would like someone to manage things for her so he's become her self-appointed guide dog.

When I call the dogs for food or outside, he goes and finds her deaf ass and herds her to the location. Normally she doesn't go outside after dark but when the boys are there she's willing to wait for Charlie to chase away anything that might be lurking out there, and then follow Herschel's ass around the yard at night.

Very literally.

She's also got cataracts forming and I think his bright white backside is easy for her to see in the dark, so she follows it around.

During daytime walks she sees well enough but neither she nor Charlie are fans of strange off-leash dogs running up to them (a regrettably common problem out here. I don't care if your dog is friendly MINE ARE NOT!), so both of them prefer to walk half a pace behind Herschel so his more socially adept and knife-filled face is out front to intercept any unwanted solicitors. This does tend to give people the opposite impression though- because he is so much shorter, Herschel gives the impression of a tiny, charming mafioso flanked by his two large and surly bodyguards.

Like, they absolutely would kill a bear for him.

But Charlie and Arwen would also try to kill a bear on general principle.

At night, when Arwen barks at shadows, Herschel runs up and stand between her and the alleged menace, and does his best to look large and intimidating and for as silly as he looks, he does have a very good growl. After a moment, when the alleged bear or congressman or other horror fails to appear, he will stick his nose into the offending shadow, and finding nothing, be satisfied that their joint effort has successfully chased the problem off, and report back to her. This, more than anything else, seems to alleviate Arwen 's fears.

I guess we all just need someone to take us seriously when we're frightened.

Charleston, meanwhile, has gotten into giving safari tours of the front range's small vertebrates.

After eight years of managing his exceptionally high prey drive, something clicked earlier this summer and instead of immediately lunging his whole face at any approximately bite-sized animal in an attempt to expedite it's journey into his stomach, Charlie has started *pointing* at things until I come look at them and tell him he's a good boy. This started with a mole, something he'd never seen before and that moves above ground in a strange way, so he wasn't sure about eating it, so he only alerted at it. "GOOD BOY!" I shouted, giving him all the cuddles. "GOOD SPOT! GOOD JOB NOT EATING IT!"

It's important to reward behavior you want to see.

Since then, he's been trying out pointing at small creatures in the grass and then making very pointed eye contact with me until I come look at them. This is a little tricky when walking both dogs because Herschel is still very much in his "inhale wildlife" phase, but usually I can lock the little gremlin's leash and go look at whatever Charlie has cornered while Herschel attempts to develop telekinesis to will the critter into his mouth.

So far, Charleston has found: a baby rabbit, several baby rabbits in a cluster, an adult rabbit with Jackalope virus, several voles, several moles, a fledgling owl, only the two mice, several mouse-sized grasshoppers and cicada, someone's pet rat (the person was searching within earshot and 'Socks' was collected forthwith), a beanie baby that had me fooled for a hit minute too, a marmot which I didn't know lived down here, a groundhog which I didn't know lived up here, a mink, so many toads, a wild turkey chick, so many more garter snakes and last night, an aquatic shrew.

I don't know if there's an Audubon Society for small things that scuttle around in the undergrowth, but I am inclined to join solely to get Charleston recognition for his service in surveying them.

[levshany]

Tandem, this is an AU in which the Collector possesses Philip, and there are a lot of things happening afterwards. but now we’ll just retell how it basically started

@angstyhikka drew a couple of arts and helped me with coloring

This is an alternative development of events after the ending of the fanfic “At The Dawn of The Light” (it's not finished yet, but there is already an AU from the ending, yes). The idea belongs to @lasymit, and I (Lev) picked it up :3

Before King's Tide, all events take place according to canon. And then the following changes occur: the witches capture Philip and lock him in a cave in the Titan's skull. The draining spell is stopped without the help of the Collector, but he himself is not found. His mirror remains lying at the bottom of the pit.

For 10 years, Philip was under a sleeping spell. Everything would be fine, but when the Hexside squad wakes up Philip to make him help them with one super important problem, not only does he become mischievous but he also has problems in his head now. Luz and the team think that Philip is manipulating them (you can't blame them for this, Philip is Philip, even with a leaky memory and a leaking roof, he manages to be such an asshole), and therefore they torture him to force him to cooperate with them.

While Philip was sleeping, a cozy corner appeared in his head, in which there was nothing but a green hill, a small house and an apple tree. There, Philip, in his child form, lives with Caleb, who is a figment of his sick mind. During his 10 years in this mindscape, Philip convinced himself that this was reality. And the Boiling Isles, the cave and the witches who torture him are an endless nightmare. Because, on the Boiling Isles, he sometimes remembers that he killed his brother. But this simply cannot be reality.

At some point, Luz and Hunter realize that Philip is not pretending that he is seriously ill and no matter how much he denies it, he needs help, and they soften towards him somewhat. Although both have rather mixed feelings towards their dementia grandpa.

Even in the moments when Philip remembers himself fully enough, his attitude towards the Boiling Isles, Luz, Hunter and even his own mission has changed greatly in any case. He no longer cares about the destruction of witches and revenge for his brother. Philip is tired. Deadly tired. All he wants to do is sleep. He slept for ten years, and this was perhaps the first time in decades of his life that he felt peace and happiness.

While he is in this state, it happens that he encounter the Collector. This is a difficult meeting for both of them, but it all ends with the forgiveness of all grievances. They both don't want to lose each other now. The collector is still locked in the disk, but Philip has the opportunity to let his friend into his subconscious. Seeing the deplorable state of Philip's mind, he decides that he must help - after all, Philip is still his only friend. Collie asks Philip not to go to "sleep" forever, but Philip replies that he has no joy in waking up here. All he dreams of is never returning to the world of the Boiling Islands. The collector, frightened that his only friend is about to leave him, possesses Philip and promises him that he will get them both out of this nightmare.

This is how Tandem's story begins

a huge amount of detail has been omitted to avoid spoilers for "The Dawn". if you wanna learn more go check the fanfic *wink wink*

[reflection-s-of-stars]

One really subtle, fun thing about the locked tomb is how they talk about “generalist” necromancy.

Judith says in Cohort Intelligence Files that Abigail’s necromancy is “generalist,” though we later find out her real skill lies with spirits. No matter how true it is, this is one of a few things in CIF that paint Abigail as a less-than-stellar necromancer (another one is the idea that her political power is what sets her apart from the others).

So “generalist” necromancy is seen as less advanced than a specialization, like Harrow’s in bone or Ianthe’s in flesh.

You don’t see a ton of that in fantasy media. In A:TLA, normal benders like Katara, Toph and Zuko are far less powerful than Aang, because he can bend all four elements. In Aurora (my favorite ever webcomic that you should all read), Erin has more prestige than any other living mage because he can do every type of magic. The Owl House shows wild witches like Eda, who do multiple kinds of magic, to be outlaws and outcasts. I could go on.

The reason fantasy authors do this is because they want to present magic as a skill/ability, whether it’s inherent or learned. It’s like sports or an instrument: the more you practice, the more things you can do, and the more things you can do, the better you’re considered.

And that’s the big difference between these examples and the Locked Tomb: instead of a skill to learn, TLT presents necromancy as an academic field.

In academia, specialization (like a college major, or being a specific kind of doctor) is common and expected. You’re encouraged to dive deep into one area of expertise, rather than being a jack-of-all-trades. That’s what necromancy is.

“Yes, Pent is a ridiculously powerful political force and talks to ghosts on a regular basis, but she’s a generalist. Not like Ianthe, who’s good at flesh magic!”

It’s really subtle, but it adds to the tonal blend of sci-fi and fantasy that helps make TLT so cool.

[genericnam]

Why, out of GF, Amphibia, and TOH, only Luz didn't have to leave her new world behind:

I've seen people complain about Amphibia and to a lesser extent, Gravity Falls, for having their series end with a goodbye; the main characters having to leave their found families and this world they've grown to love and return to regular life. But the thing is, the three shows all have MASSIVELY different morals, that each fit in with how the goodbyes (or lack thereof) work into the finales.

Gravity Falls has a large theme of temporary goodbyes and reconciling. Stan and Ford being the primary example. But there are others: Soos and Melony, Wendy and Robbie, even Dipper and Mabel to an extent. The show builds upon this with Gravity Falls being a VACATION, they aren't trapped there, they could theoretically go home at any time. Episodes such as Summerween and Dipper and Mabel Vs. The Future also build on the tone, telling that it's okay to both grow up and move on, but you don't have to leave behind what you once loved in doing so.

The final conflicts (Wierdmaggedon) are caused because of characters not being able to let go. Stan couldn't let go of Ford, Mabel couldn't let go of Gravity Falls, Gideon couldn't let go of Mabel.

Gravity Falls teaches the viewer that even if you love something, you have to let it go, and eventually it will return. In the words of Bill Cipher: "We'l meet again. Don't know where, don't know when. I just knew we'll meet again, some sunny day."

Amphibia has a similar theme of Gravity Falls, but it takes it further. Amphibia tells you that if you don't let go, sometimes things will only get worse. The primary example for this is the show's catalyst event: Marcy getting Anne to steal the Music Box. Marcy chose to go to Amphibia, rather than move away, and she dragged her friends into it with her. Instead of having a long distance friendship with Sasha and Anne, she took them to an alternate dimension in order to spend eternity on a massive adventure, and it got her killed. Marcy and Anne died and Sasha tried to kill herself.

And that's only Marcy. Sasha was a control freak that bordered on yandere at the height of her villain arc. Sasha couldn't accept that Anne was beginning to move on from the toxic friendship that the Calamity Trio had locked themselves into.

The trio were horrible to eachother, pre-character arcs, and they needed to focus on self improvement before they could even hope to be good friends. In the time between 'All In' and the epilog, the Calamity Trio would not have actually been able to be good for eachtoher. They say they forgive eachother, but that was forgiveness given during a WAR. Post show, the real feelings would start to bubble up. Anne's resentment for the betrayals, Marcy’s abandonment issues, Sasha's definite self hatred. The trio HAD to split up to have any semblance of a friendship.

Amphibia tells its audience that not all good things can last, and if you obsess and force it to stay, it can destroy you.

The Owl House has a completely opposite moral. It tells you to find your people, and fight for them.

Luz lived in the Human Realm, but it was never her home. Her home was with Camila and Manny, but when Manny died, Camila and Luz's relationship began to falter. That world wasn't her home. When Luz found the Boiling Isles, she was always supposed to be able to leave. This wasn't a summer trip she didn't want at first, or a one way portal. The Boiling Isles was HER choice.

Luz picked Bonesburrow. Luz picked Hexside. Luz picked The Owl House. Her home was always meant to be The Boiling Isles. She only started trying to find a way back to Earth because the choice was taken from her. Luz no longer had the choice to go back to the Human Realm. In fact, the only time Luz chose Humans over Isles was when she was PUNISHING herself for helping Belos.

Luz got to stay in the Boiling Isles because TOH tells its audience that where you start isn't where you should always stay. Find your place and find your people. And when you do, hold it dear and never let go. "Us weirdos have to stick together."

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo Ending Three: Flying the Coop

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

I am no longer doing tags. Tumblr hates me and I’d rather not waste my time when there are so many! You can keep up to date on Twisted Zoo on Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, or AO3.

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Note: For Tumblr, the mature version of the endings (the afterendings) will begin sometime after I finish all the normal endings.

Note 2: Tumblr was originally told that all the birds would have one ending, but I have decided to split them up into three endings (The Price of Beauty and Birds of a Feather alongside this one)

The sky was overcast today, your sunny mood not matching the dark gray, cloudy sky. As you approached the dome where the birds resided, you decided to check on the damage. 

You still found it hard to believe the birds had made any damage to metal. But surely Mr. Crowley wouldn’t lie to you. 

There were guards stationed outside the area of the dome that had been damaged. A white tarp fluttered in the cold breeze, making it impossible for you to see the extent of what the birds had done. 

The guards gave you a respectful nod as you passed by. Their eyes didn’t seem to leave you, even as you walked farther and farther away. You shook off the thought, assuming you were imagining things after everything Mr. Crowley had said.

You opened the door to the dome and immediately noticed the difference in the air. Tense, as though something was coiling tightly around you, ready to snap. You looked towards the damage but another white tarp covered the entire area. The rest of the enclosure was the same- the marsh where the flamingos lived, the bright green grassy expanse for the peacocks, and the individual cages for the-

Where was Deuce, Ace, and Trey? The raven, parrot, and owl’s cages were all empty, the doors ripped off their hinges. The bird houses were covered in deep scars, as if talons had scratched every inch of the wood.

And then you spotted them.

Ace gave you an enthusiastic wave, but Deuce and Trey remained serious, all three staring at you. Even from a distance, you could see their pupils were blown wide. Something was wrong with them.

With a gulp, you tried to force your legs to move, but you were frozen between approaching them and seeing what was wrong or fleeing. The trio began approaching you and your heart stopped in your chest altogether.

“Hey, (Y/n),” Ace said with a wide grin, his sharp eyes locked on you without blinking even once, “Did you come to check out the damage?”

You nodded despite your fear, feeling a shiver run up your spine as Trey and Deuce split off and began to circle you. Their wings were tucked tightly to their bodies, but occasionally twitched as though they wanted to spread them.

“Have you done any more damage?” you managed to ask.

Trey smiled pleasantly, “Would you believe us if we said ‘no’?”

Deuce, who was normally quiet, spoke up, “No harm meant. We want more space.”

“Space?” You looked at them curiously, trying to ignore the twisting in your stomach, “Why would you need more space?”

As soon as the question left your lips you felt stupid. Ace laughed, “Birds aren’t meant to be in cages. Do you think we’re supposed to stay in the little spaces Crowley and his goons made for us?”

“Isn’t that what you agreed to?” you asked.

“We were happy with it… until now,” Ace explained, “But we’ve grown restless ever since you arrived.”

You glanced back at the enclosure door and instead was met with the sight of a smirking Trey. He had positioned himself between you and the only exit. Before you could truly panic, Deuce was wrenching your arms behind your back and clapping a hand over your mouth.

Trey gave you a closed-eyed smile, “We want to talk.” He opened his eyes, his smile twisting into a devious smirk, “About you coming with us.”

Deuce’s thumb brushed circles against your cheek, trying to soothe you, while Ace gave you an earnest look, “What’s the point of escaping if you aren’t with us?”

So it wasn’t really about escaping- it was about claiming you. Mr. Crowley’s speech came back to you. “They will especially latch on to anyone who shows them true kindness.” 

You tried to pull your wrists free and began to frantically shake your head. You managed to slip from Deuce’s grasp over your mouth and wailed, “Come with you? Are you crazy? I can’t just-”

“Actually, you can,” Ace snickered, “After all, you don’t have a choice in the matter.” He leaned in close, his voice a conspiratorial whisper as a hunger swirled in his overblown pupils, “We’ve been working on this escape for a while, and guess what, sweetheart? Today’s the day.”

You began to squirm in Deuce’s ironclad grip, “I’m not going anywhere with you guys! I’m just a researcher- I didn’t sign up for this. Help! Security! Please! HELP!”

Ace laughed loudly, “They won’t help you, trust me.” His stare became a bit more gentle, “Look, you’ve been taking care of us for so long, now it’s our turn to care for you.”

Deuce’s wings twitched with barely restrained excitement, “Don’t fight. Be a good girl.”

“Yeah,” Ace agreed with a wicked grin, “We went through all this trouble because we love you! Isn’t that sweet?”

“Sweet?” you wailed, “It’s insanity, that’s what this is! Now let me go before you get in trouble!”

“Trouble? In trouble with who?” Ace tilted his head, pretending to be confused, “No, no, you have it wrong, silly. We’re not the ones who will be in trouble.”

“Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” A tear trickled down your cheek as you began to thrash in Deuce’s grip, “I’m really sorry!”

Deuce leaned in to your ear, “You not need to be sorry.”

Trey spoke up behind you, “We’ll be free. All of us.”

Ace picked up a vine from the floor and motioned for Deuce to hand you over. You let out a scream for help, but when you looked towards the guards outside the dome, you realized they hadn’t so much as flinched.

No one was coming to save you.

As soon as your wrists were bound tightly, Trey took flight, his talons quickly curling into your shoulders and under your arms. Ace and Deuce joined him in the air and you were lifted off the ground.

There was no point in screaming anymore and your voice hurt. Instead, you cried softly to yourself as the bird halflings blew through the white tarps like they weren’t even there. The damage was so extensive that it was basically a giant hole for them to fly easily through.

From the ground, Mr. Crowley waved goodbye to you, a smile on his face as though he was pleased to see you being dragged into the sky.

The gloomy sky finally matched your mood.

[deepestnightcolor]

☾ ᴡʜᴀᴛᴄʜᴀ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ᴅᴏ – ᴡʜᴀᴛᴄʜᴀ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ᴅᴏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ? ☽

ᴀ/ɴ: Today's smut is sponsored by this dialogue I had with Sebastian at the luau and Mayor Lewis's purple underwear. Curious? You shall read on, then! I hope you enjoy, and thank you for your time! ✧

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 3669 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: exhibitionism, unprotected sex, creampie, name calling, dirty talk, spanking, mentioning of body painting, Sam's being a rebellious twat and vandalizes stuff.

Living in Pelican Town for over a year now has taught you a lot, but three things had proven to be quite interesting. For one, the whole community had seemingly been held together by nothing more but metaphorical spit and duct tape before you had arrived and had desperately needed your help without letting you know what you had actually signed up for. Secondly, the people in this town were incredibly easy to bribe with gifts, especially when you added a sweet smile on top. And third, this town was basically dead during the night.  After 8 PM, most doors were locked tight, and the streets were empty. This information wasn’t necessary for your work as a farmer, and it certainly didn’t help you with it, but to you, it was an important piece of knowledge. You adored strolling through the streets late at night like a stray cat because it was the only time of the day when you didn’t have to expect someone calling your name or even stepping in your way to have a chat. The night belonged to you, and only you. Or so you thought.

You were wandering through the darkness of the night, enjoying the occasional hoot coming from above you when an owl flew past and the flapping of bat wings cutting through the air. The sounds of the night soothed you; the darkness gave you a sense of security – it was like a cloth wrapping around you, shielding you from the world unless you scared it off with a source of light. It made you feel invisible and seen all the same, valuable, and yet so breakable. Raw emotions you could really allow to settle during the dark hour, emotions that drowned in the buzz of the day.

When your steps passed Lewis’s house a hissing sound met your ear. Stopping in your tracks, your eyes snapped over in the direction you had thought the sound to come from, brows knitted together in a frown. A snake? You had never seen a snake in Pelican Town, or any place in the valley, really. Yet there it was again, a cold hissing sound, slicing through the silence of the night. Before you could really make a decision on what to do, your curiosity had already gotten the best of you. You quietly stepped towards Lewis’s property when you heard another hiss. It was longer now, drawn out as if to make a point. Had the animal already taken note of you and was now threatening you? Yet as you took another step closer and peeked over the picket fence, you saw a figure hunched over right in front of the old pick-up. The size certainly didn’t seem fitting for a snake, unless it had decided to mutate and then break into Alex’s room to eat up his stash of protein bars. Still, the shadow was hissing quietly, and it didn’t look like it had noticed you just yet. You pulled out your phone carefully and tapped the flashlight button, shining the cone of light onto what you had thought to be a snake. The ”snake” was wearing all black, and whipped around faster than you could have opened your mouth to ask what the hell they were doing there. You had always been taught to expect the unexpected, but you would have never guessed that you would find Sam hunched over in front of the mayor’s car with a spray can in his right hand and an expression of unsureness on his face. Sam, who babysat his brother on the beach so he could build his sandcastles, Sam who crouched down to talk to kids, Sam who listened to “I’m Just Ken” while working at Joja. Your boyfriend Sam.

“What the fuck are you doing there exactly, Sam?” The blond had been squinting against the light up until now, but when heard your voice, his face visibly relaxed. “Babe, oh fuck, it’s you,” he breathed, letting out a small, airy laugh. You swallowed, quickly making your way over to the blond, flicking your fingers against his forehead. “Yes, it’s me. But it could have been Lewis. Whose property you are on, doing something to his car, may I add,” you whispered back, watching your boyfriend squint against the light again, and nod. “I know, I know, but I ordered these spray cans on sale, and they just came today, and I just saw an opportunity-“ “Opportunity to do what?” Instead of answering, Sam’s blue eyes slowly flickered to the hood of the car. You furrowed your brows at him, even though you were pretty sure that he couldn’t make out your face. “Sam, you shouldn’t be here. Especially not with spray cans,” you scolded, shining your light on where Sam was looking.

You opened your mouth again, about to scold the blond again, but it was hard to form words when you had to resist the urge to break out into laughter. A pair of undies was revealed under the shine of your flashlight, purple in colour and ready to be seen by the whole community. You had seriously thought you had been discreet when you had returned them to the mayor, but it hadn’t been your fault that he dropped them when Sam came into the townhall after you.

“You are an idiot,” you whispered to him, a giggle slipping past your lips. Sam grinned up at you, his head tilting to the side. “Maybe I am, but so far, I am an idiot that hasn’t been caught yet. So could you please…?” You nodded and knelt next to the rebel, turning off the flash that had bothered him. He let out a sigh of relief, and despite the darkness, you could make out the mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

“How does one even come up with shit like this?” you asked, your hands wrapping around his shoulders. Sam grinned at you, shrugging his broad shoulders. “I thought he deserved it. Treatin’ his woman like shit because he’s a coward.  Thought he should have the need to explain himself…” “Standing up for Marnie? Hot,” you chuckled, flicking his forehead again. “But I doubt this stems from nothing but nobility.” Again, his pearly whites flashed through the darkness. “Okay, maybe I thought him pissing his pants when he sees this would be incredibly funny.” “There we go,” you laughed quietly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. You had to admit, seeing Sam like this was…interesting, to say the least. You hadn’t expected him to act up in such ways, much less plot an act of rebellion like this – he hadn’t even forgotten to cover his blond hair with a beanie. For some reason, it made you lean in and press a small kiss against his lips. You had planned on pulling away, but before you knew it, you felt yourself being pulled onto your boyfriend’s lap, his tongue licking over yours. Were you into bad boys? Or was it just the unexpected rebellious side of Sam that broke through the seemingly peaceful façade Pelican Town tried to keep up, shaking its rhythm to the core? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but what you were very aware of was the fact that his lips tasted just so good.

You pulled away after a while, taking his paint-smeared hand in your own as you got on your feet. “Let’s go, then, before my idiot and I get caught,” you panted, plans on what you would do with Sam once you had reached the safety of your bedroom already forming. However, Sam sat still. You tugged at his hand once more, hoping he would cave and follow you, a smile tugging on your lips when you saw him rise. However, you definitely didn’t expect to be pulled into Sam’s chest with his lips smashing into yours again. It was one of the sloppiest kisses you had ever experienced with Sam; it was wet and all tongue and teeth, making you moan into it quietly. He took the chance and sucked on your tongue, his hands travelling down to your ass, giving it a squeeze with his roughened hands. He only pulled away when the both of you were in dire need of air, a string of saliva still connecting your lips. Warm breath tickling your air making you shudder; you heard his voice. It was deeper now, huskier and rougher around the edges. “How about we stick it to him some more?” “Wh..What do you mean?” You asked, gasping when his fingers popped open the button of your pants. “Oh, I think you know what I mean,” he hummed, his pierced tongue following the shell of your ears, knowing it would have your skin break out in goosebumps. “You… you want to do it here?” “What, you scared?” He cooed, his lips now kissing down your neck, chuckling in amusement when you tilted your head to the side in a split second to allow more access. “No, but- is that legal? What if we get caught?” “Nothing I did here is legal, but I promise you, we won’t get caught. Lewis sleeps like a rock, and the others are far enough away...Besides…Wouldn’t it be fun to get caught? Let them know who’s fuckin’ you well? Showin’ them how it’s done?” You almost whimpered at his words, his hand had now found its way into your underwear. You needed to stop this. Both of you could get into serious trouble, and you didn’t want that. The two of you needed to get home and sleep this off and hope that Mayor Lewis never found out who the sprayer was.

You pushed your pants down yourself, shoving Sam’s beanie off his head to run your fingers through the blond strands, your lips finding your boyfriend’s despite the darkness. This time it was you greedily sucking on his tongue, allowing his finger to circle your clit with tiny, quick movements. Sam’s other hand found its way to your ass, gripping the flesh and giving it a gentle smack. You tugged on his hair in return, pushing your body flush against his to let him feel your tits against his chest. Given his laboured breathing, you knew it had the desired effect on him as you allowed yourself to kiss down his neck after pulling away from his lips. “Knew you would come around,” he hummed, his hand pulling from your panties. You whined in return, just to be kissed again. “Shhh…We don’t want to get caught just yet, do we?” He murmured, smacking your ass with both hands now, probably leaving some paint there as well. Being too into it to care, you gave him what he wanted, jumping up just to be steadied by his strong arms and hoisted up against his body. You wrapped your legs around his hips, your crotches now pressed together. In this position you could feel the heat radiate from Sam’s already hardened dick, replacing the fears of being caught with thoughts of being filled to the brim by his pierced cock. “Sam, want you to fuck me,” you whispered, rutting your hips against the bulge restrained by his black pants. Sam groaned quietly, squeezing your ass again while he guided the movements of your hips over his crotch. “And I wanna fuck you, princess. Gonna fill ya up right ‘ere, ‘kay? Let everyone know how to treat a woman.” His words were accompanied by his lips smacking kisses on your neck, sucking a hickey onto the heated-up skin when he deemed it fit. “Pretty please.” Sam chuckled, his eyes flickering to Lewis’s house momentarily to make sure everything remained dark, his hand already moving to push down your panties. “How could I say no when you ask me like that?” It wasn’t like he could have said no even if you hadn’t asked him like that; his penis was painfully hard by now, red and hot to the touch. His tip glistening with pre-cum; the prospect of getting to fuck his absolutely beautiful girlfriend out in the open after just basically committing a petty crime had his cock drooling for you.

He carefully placed you on the hood of the car, smiling to himself when he felt your body shiver as soon as your bare ass met with the cold surface of it. Still, as he allowed his finger to run through your folds, he could feel what a hot mess you were already; wetness coated his finger, and your legs twitched against his hips when he brushed over your clit. As much as he wanted to tease you, he knew he had to be quicker than usual. Lewis did sleep like a rock, but he would be damned if he was stopped before he could have sunken his dick into you. “You ready for me, baby?” His voice was heavy with lust, the pad of his thumb still messing with your clit that was pulsing for his touch. “Mhhhmmm!” you whispered, eyes darting from the mayor’s house back to your lover, your legs quivering already. The cold night air hitting your wet cunt made you want Sam’s cock all the more, and you knew you were basically drooling down there. The excitement you felt wrapped you into a heavy cloud, just like the darkness of the night usually did. You were able to hear the fabric of his pants as he pulled them down, soon followed by a small smacking sound. Your mouth watered as you laid eyes on the outline of Sam’s erection, your pussy clenching around nothing in eager anticipation. You reached your hand out to let the pads of your fingers ghost along his shaft, smiling to yourself when you heard his breath hitch. Sam was an incredibly sensitive man; you had managed to make him cum by teasing his cock alone more than once. You felt yourself clench yet again when you felt the cold metal of his piercing near the tip of his dick, your lower lip catching between your teeth. You wanted him, and you wanted him now. Him massaging your clit had made your heart thump into your chest and your head feel more light, but it had also made you care about nothing but him fucking you. You used your legs that were still hooked around his hips to pull him closer, your fingers wrapping around his pulsing shaft. Leading him to your core, you guided his dick through your folds, mixing precum with your own arousal. Sam was groaning under his breath, and you could feel a shift in your surroundings as he placed his hands right next to you on the hood of the car. “You are so wet for me already, baby,” he whispered. “Just for you,” you moaned, feeling his lips run down your neck again before he sat up, lining himself up with your entrance.

You could feel his fingers intertwining with yours and you gave him a squeeze. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and pushed his hips forward in one swift movement, filling you to the hilt with ease. It knocked the air out of your lungs, and for a moment, you could have sworn the world was spinning fast enough for you to actually see it, but the stretch felt just so good. Your walls clung to Sam as if your life depended on it, and the urge to scream out his name just to show everyone who filled you up so well was dancing on your tongue. Sam himself struggled to keep up his composure, his head spinning with the way you clung to him. You were so wet and warm; a great contrast to the cold night. And – it was you. You always managed to take his breath away.

Breathing heavily, Sam held the position he was in, massaging your breasts through your shirt. You could feel every inch of him inside of you, and Yoba, you loved it. You grasped at strands of his hair, tugging on it as your hips snapped against him, making him suck in air through his teeth. “Fuck, ya’re so sexy, ya know that? And all mine,” he slurred, leaning down to press another sloppy kiss to your lips. This one was more hasty, though, as he quickly pulled away to push one of your legs against you, almost completely pulling out just to snap his hips forward again, filling you to the brim again. The blond started with a slow pace, trying to show you that he had full control over the situation, but you made it so hard. Your walls were contracting around his cock as if to massage the pierced shaft, drooling all over the already wet skin. With each thrust he gave you he forced a whimper out of your mouth which you desperately tried to keep shut but failed miserably. And the way you looked in the moonlight that had now been revealed by the clouds… it really wasn’t his fault that his thrusts almost automatically picked up the pace, abusing your little cunt like as it deserved. Your back arched off the car, but your ass rubbed against the now warmed-up steel beneath your skin as it began to redden. One of Sam’s hands kept your leg pushed towards your shoulder, while the other worked your clit mercilessly.  He was fucking you hard; his cock pounding into you just to prove that he could, balls smacking against your wet lips to underline the obviousness of what you were doing out here. “Sam!” you hissed, your fingers curling in his hair. He was giving you every centimetre of him, and he was giving to you at a mind -breaking pace. If someone had asked you your name, you would have probably given Sam’s, as that was all that left your mouth at this point.

“That’s m’good fuckin’ girl. Takin’ my cock so well, like ya were made for it, hm? Like being stuffed with my cock out here? Yes?” he grunted, giving your clit a light smack as you didn’t respond. You gasped loudly at that, your toes curling in the sneakers that neither of you had bothered to take off. “Mhmmm!” You moaned, but were cut off by a tongue shoved down your throat. You had to close your eyes for a moment; the sensation of Sam mercilessly fucking you in the cold air of the night and him kissing you so roughly made everything feel like you were far away, chasing the high announcing itself with the tightening knot in your stomach. It wasn’t like Sam wasn’t a mess, though. His usually carefully styled hair was completely dishevelled, his cheeks were flush with arousal, and his breathing was just barely covering the grunts and groans of your name. His legs shook as he pounded his drooling dick into your wet cunt, and admittedly, he himself was drooling for you. “’m gonna cum, baby. Ya gonna cum for me? Cum all over me? Show ‘em who ya belong to?” The words all were whispered in your mouth, and you ate them right up with a dazed nod. You could feel the metal of Sam’s piercing rut against your walls as his tip was bullying your cervix, causing your vision to blur with tears. His thumb found your clit again, and this time he rubbed much slower circles onto it with added pressure. Your body felt like it was set under electrical shocks; each time a wave of pleasure subsided, the next one followed. “Lookin’ so pretty in the moonlight, baby,” he whispered, his heart pounding in your chest. He could have sworn whenever he praised you even the slightest, your cunt just sucked him in further, and it drove him insane. Absolutely insane.

“Sam! Sam, gonna cum, oh fuck, cummin’!” you cried out, and this time, your boyfriend didn’t care to quieten you. He was busy staring down at you as you threw your head back, your back arching in again while you held onto his shoulders tightly. Your cunt spasmed around him as you moaned his name, your hips both rutting against him and trying to get away from him as he still bullied into you.

The begging whisper of his name as you rode your orgasm was enough for Sam; his balls tightened as ropes of cum filled you up, his hips shaking as he forced himself to keep moving, feeling the burning need to fill you up to the brim and fuck his own cum into you deep enough you would feel it the next day. His penis twitched inside of you as he fucked himself empty, not slowing down until he had fucked all his cum inside of you, having you shiver beneath him.

The two of you were panting, Sam’s hand finding yours again and allowing them to lock together, his forehead resting against yours as he slowly pulled out from you, ignoring the wetness of his crotch. The two of you smiled at each other silently, when suddenly you saw a light switch on inside the house. You looked at each other again as Sam quickly sprung to action just barely pulling up his pants before he helped you pull up your own. You picked up the cans and the beanies before you were thrown over Sam’s shoulder, the blond running towards his house in a panicked frenzy.

You couldn’t help but giggle like two teenagers as you hid in some bushes, holding one another’s mouth shut. What you didn’t expect was that instead of a full painting of some purple undies on Mayor Lewis’s car, there was half a painting of his underwear, accompanied by the print of an ass from where you had been sitting. The other half of the painting Sam would find later when the two of you had a shower on your farm.

[bobluvbot]

late night cravings

pairing: sirius black x afab!reader summary: you sneak off the night for a cheeky midnight snack, hoping sirius won’t notice (spoiler alert: he does, and he’s sulky about it)  wc: 4k cw: pregnancy & baby talk, descriptions of food and eating, brief allusions to sex (not directly stated), no physical traits of reader specified but sirius can hold things out of reader’s reach  a/n: so i had a lengthy angst fic for sirius’s debut on my blog and im halfway done on it but i cant seem to finish it bc it sends me to a depressing spiral each time <33333 so pls enjoy a very self-indulgent domestic excessively fluffy blurb with my beloved <33333 p.s this is not proofread so plz ignore mistakes ty <3

opening the tomato salsa jar turned out to be the hardest part. 

back in bed, you thought the trickiest part of your late night escapade from sirius black was his long limbs wound up tight with yours, even in low light of the small nightlight in the corner, you could still make out the intricate script and designs following the curves and dips of his strong arms, holding you close to his chest. 

you had it committed to memory by now, having explored sirius’s body well enough to memorize the way his skin feels against yours, with heartbeats and breaths falling in sync without much effort. 

judging by the way his breathing gets heavy after every exhale and the little snores that escape in between, you knew he was beyond knackered. it was day five of sirius’s new job as an deputy director at the auror office. the day he learned about the promotion was pure unadulterated happiness. after letting you know through an express owl, you mustered up enough vigor available to your seven months pregnant self to get out of the house and go to the local shops to get party supplies and food to celebrate sirius’s achievement. 

Coming in third out of the list of things he genuinely loved in this life, after you and his luscious locks of course, was his job as an auror. young sirius had never thought in his wildest dreams that he’d work at the ministry, much less actually enjoy it. can’t really blame sixteen year old sirius, starting an underground rock band with the marauders seemed like the perfect thing to do after gruelling hours of studying at hogwarts. 

defense against the dark arts came to him naturally, with some counterspells like second nature to him as being exposed with use of dark magic young gave him no choice but to grow up quickly and defend himself from the excruciating pain or the mind control that was from his own family’s doing. Winning the first wizarding war alongside his friends and found family has solidified sirius’s calling in eradicating the use of dark magic and making sure the next generation can have a safe and normal life without the looming threat of a megalomaniac sorting people with their blood status and taking over the wizarding world. 

that night, sirius walked into a dark and eerily quiet home that had his senses on overdrive. but when the lights turned on and he saw familiar faces of his loved ones all beaming with pride, and there you were in the center, looking ethereal and round and all his, with his favorite red velvet cake on hand and a ridiculously big balloon that says “congratulations” tied to the candle, he could have melted in a syrupy mess of gooey happiness right then and there if he hadn’t caught himself together last minute.

Sirius had thought– that after you agreeing to go on one date with him to hogsmeade, winning the quidditch cup and seeing the proud look on minerva’s face, going home for christmas break and euphemia welcoming him with a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug, remus teaching at the very same classroom you all were in years back, james and lily’s first kiss at the altar, holding little baby harry in his arms, you walking down the aisle with a bouquet of peonies in the most beautiful dress, and when you held his hand that one night and told him that you were expecting—- that he knew of love. but you do something extraordinary that has him scrambling to add to the endless list of why you’re the love of his life. he was so focused on you that he wasn’t prepared to catch pure muscle of james’s body as he flung himself to tackle his best friend in a hug. luckily, remus with a party hat was aptly standing between a toppling sirius and the living room wall, and he singlehandedly saved the two from creating a huge hole in the drywall. 

this was the life, sirius had thought after many hours of partying celebrating and eating, when he laid beside you in bed, limbs tangled, sated and dizzy and warm as you both came down from your highs. and he gets to spend it with you.

but as fun and exciting sirius’s new job is, it entailed an increased amount of responsibility as he was assisting the head auror. his least favorite part of the job was the boatloads of paperwork he has to deal with. An express owl almost dropped a howler letter into the soup you were making for dinner earlier that day and you opened it up panicking thinking it was an emergency. But no, it was just sirius whining that his hand hurt and is about to fall off and that he needs you to kiss it better. 

You did eventually, and one thing led to another and here you were, tucked in your husband’s warm embrace. you could stay here forever, only separating to drink water and bathroom trips, but the gnawing urge to eat something savory, sweet, tangy, and crunchy has possessed your entire being, the only way to quell it was to get up and go to the kitchen. the baby doesn’t seem to have a semblance of time yet, a fact you both envied and despised, because the clock on your nightstand said it was 3:48am in bold red numbers. A few months ago, you’d never be caught dead awake at this time, taking your precious sleep time seriously. The man himself would poke fun at you and say you’d gladly sleep through an earthquake or a housefire just as long as you get your seven to eight hours of sleep per day, and despite of your assumed role of contradicting and arguing with spontaneous and stubborn sirius, you had to agree.

But this was not about you anymore, or at least not quite yet for a good seventeen years, so you untangle yourself from sirius and your perfectly warm and cool side of the bed and waddle down the carpeted stairs, careful not to set foot on the creaky step that might risk waking sirius up. You need your secrets too, and you’re not in the mood to share food.

Grateful for the heavens that you and sirius stocked up on groceries two days ago, you had a wide selection of random items to munch on. A few days ago, you were introduced to the idea of a fluffernutter sandwich while scrolling through the short videos on your feed. Peanut butter and marshmallow fluff as spreads on their own was something you didn’t mind eating, but both together in a sandwich? You were enthralled, and the only way to quell the curiosity was to make it. So you did. 

You shovel and slather more than enough spread on each slice of bread, though you might have used the same spoon on both jars.. but who’s to tell you off otherwise, your snoozing husband upstairs? pfft. 

Smiling happily as if committing a particularly naughty crime, you place the spoon in your mouth, licking off the gooey mixture as you place the sandwich on a piece of paper towel (yes, you take the no dishwashing tonight seriously) on the table. humming, you mull over what to prepare next.

The baby needs something savory and tangy, but you’re not particularly keen on going through all the effort of heating up the soup from dinner, not to mention the amount of cutlery and dishes you’ll use for that, so you zero in on the tostada shells you chose rather than tortilla chips because its much more crispier. 

Opening the fridge, you see the laughing cow on a round packaging and decide its the one, so you grab two cheese wedges from it. 

Sirius had argued that the next aisle had actual, real blocks of cheese with a variety on display and that there was no point in getting artificially flavored ones. But you’ve gotten really good at giving him the stank face, which inadvertently ends 75 percent of nonsense bickering before it even starts; and since you’ve started showing more and more, sirius has admittedly gone softer on you, not that he was ever more but a pushover your entire relationship. Merely widening of eyes and a jut of your lower lip, even adding a slight tremble or two during times where you did actually fuck up, sirius can’t hold his stance longer than a minute before sighing and taking you in his arms. he might call you out for being a brat at times, but there’s no denying he loves it. And so the artificial wheel of cheese wedges got purchased and bagged home, and you’re meticulously spreading it over the golden shells, leaving little to no gaps of it bare. 

Laying it on another paper towel, your heart gets giddy on your chest knowing you’re in for a treat tonight. But not quite time to start munching, the baby reminds you that you still need something tangy to complete the meal. So comes your big predicament, should you get dill pickles or tomato salsa? 

It took you ten seconds too long of weighing down the pros-and-cons of choosing one and feeling like you made the wrong choice if you end up not liking it. It doesn’t help that the pregnancy hormones make you more anxious and tend to put you always on the verge of tears. So when the not-so-groundbreaking idea of just eating them both hits you, you feel the weight slide off your shoulders as you sigh. Because again, who’s gonna tell you that eating pickles this late at night can give you bad acid reflux, your snoozing husband? Pfft.

Snacking on some, you do manage to pick out the juiciest looking pickle chips and lay them atop of your tostadas. You and the little one are beyond excited to dive in. It’s looking like a mini upside-down pizza with the cheese spread first then the pickle as toppings. Only thing left now was the the tomato salsa slathered on top to seal the deal. 

Opening tight lids wasn’t an issue for you before, in fact, you took pride when friends hand you a jar or bottle to open because you could do it in a breeze. Chances were, the lid wasn’t even screwed on that tight, you were just built different, you’d say with a shrug once you give the items back. So when the tomato jar doesn’t budge after two attempts, you get puzzled.

Maybe your hands were slippery? You wipe them down with a tea towel and try again. No.

You weren’t holding it tight enough? Fingers held taut against the lid, you try three times. Still no.

Determined, you try different positions before letting the jar go, shooting it glares as if it’d get intimidated and just open up for you. You were also getting lightheaded, and passing out on the kitchen floor due to excessive stimulation of your vagal reflex because you were too stubborn to use magic or wake your husband up to open it for you doesn’t seem like the best way to spend the early Tuesday morning hours.

Magic was even out of the option (well, in your brain it was), because your wand’s tucked beside sirius’s on your nightstand, and frankly, you don’t have the patience to drag yourself upstairs just to flick a utility spell to open the wretched thing. So you do the next best option: lose hope. 

The disappointment was mutual between you and your baby. And the acid reflux did start to kick in, making your stomach grumble in both hunger and pain. This was all going so well until it isn’t, tears began to make its way up to your eyes.

“See, this is what you get for being greedy and eating all snacks by yourself,” sirius huffs behind you, deep voice still raspy with sleep. You didn’t even hear him getting out of bed and coming down the stairs, that’s how preoccupied you were with opening the jar.

He grabs the container away from you to open it, but not without throwing a scowl at your direction, handsome face contorted with furrowed eyebrows and downturned mouth, enough to express that he felt betrayed by this whole ordeal. If you were in a better mood, you’d poke his sides and tackle him playfully, teasing him for being sulky. But for now, you need the jar opened so you could eat in peace. You’ll deal with the sharing food issue later.

“t wasn’t supposed to take long,” you mumble, caught off guard and refusing to make eye contact, pretending the fridge magnets beside sirius’s head is ten times more interesting than his face. You don’t miss his raised eyebrow and snort at your response. 

The second attempt comes and he opens it with a satisfying pop. your mouth falls agape, eyeing the *now accessible* tomato salsa dip in disbelief. What the hell? 

And you couldn’t even take the smug grin spreading across sirius’s face by the millisecond. Refuse to. You try to snatch the open container away from him but he holds it higher and out of reach, making a show of puffing his chest, flexing his biceps, even giving it a kiss. This is all James’s doing, you need to have a talk with Lily soon about keeping these two separated.

“Sirius!” you try to plead your way out. the trademark innocent, pouty expression settles on your face like a second mask, hoping he’d go down this easy. 

It doesn’t work. He just chuckles, mocking your pleas and face while his free hand sneaks up and pinches your unsuspecting cheek to tease you further.

You yelp in mock outrage and swat his hand away, trying your best to keep your displeasure firm on your face, but you feel the giggles coming up. “This is why I sneak out alone to eat, you’re such a bully,” you huff, but take a seat in front of your makeshift spread. 

Sirius places the jar near you, but not without poking your exposed sides, armed with the knowledge that the easiest way to get you laughing (and eventually conceding in an argument) is knowing where your tickle zones are. “Oh yeah,” he drawls, plopping himself beside you. “That’s also why you’re the only one waking up with an upset stomach, stinking up our bathroom so early in the morning.”

Now this one got you appalled, embarrassed, disturbed, basically hit with all the feelings. You’ve been living together long before you got married, and he never brought up this issue until today. “That’s it. I’m leaving.” He makes a move to snatch the sandwich away but the embarrassment on your cheeks made you more agile, swatting his hand away and shielding the sandwich with your hands. “After I finish my meal,” you continue, shooting him a glare.

But see, one of the things that drove you nuts even way back at Hogwarts, was how Sirius Black mostly managed to outsmart you or be one step ahead of you in everything. After you turned him down without much thought whatsoever despite his grand declaration of interest, Sirius took it upon himself to show you (1) that you made a mistake for rejecting him, (2) that his ego won’t let you embarrass him like that again, (3) and that you won’t get rid of him that easily. Once he set his eyes on you, you were face to face with him in everything: grades, OWLs/NEWTs scores, Quidditch plays and bets, wins at the duelling club, even with the fucking gobstones tournament. He never let you catch a break.

Things were surely different now, since you vowed to be with him in sickness and health and untill death parts you both– hell, you’re carrying his child. So you figured maybe, maybe, he’ll let you catch a break this time. Let you eat in peace as you mull over his bathroom comment and how you’re going to get him back. 

But again, no. Unlike you, Sirius remembered to grab his wand from the nightstand. Not even batting an eye, he says nonchalantly, “Accio sandwich.” And the fluffernutter you protected with all your physical might managed to escape your watch, and land gracefully on his waiting palm. 

What irritated you more from this whole ordeal? The prodigal auror that climbed his way up the ranks and became the youngest deputy director, fully capable of complex spells and wielding different kinds of magic, felt the need to do a verbal Accio spell just to make a point to you.

Out of words, you just stare at him blankly. Too stunned to even cry in frustration because you knew you made a conscious, willing choice to be with this man. 

Maybe your best guilt-tripping expression comes best when you’re not trying. Color drains from his face when you remained silent and he scrambles to take a bite off the sandwich before handing it back to you, or rather placing it on your limp hand as you refuse to acknowledge it, still too hurt to budge. “‘m sorry, baby. Just wanted to eat with you since we didn’t get to earlier.”

He did arrive later than usual, deciding to finish the stack of case files and paperwork so he won’t have to sift through them again the next day. There were plans to wait for him before eating, but when the jitteriness and slightly nausea started to kick in, you had no choice in the matter. Sirius had been sulky and clingy the moment he got home, and as compromise, you stayed to watch him eat; listening and reacting animatedly as he ranted about his stressful day.

So you cut him off some slack, also exhausted from all the emotional stimulation sirius brought since he woke up. As a silent peace offering (also because you’re not ready to say sorry to his face), you slide the tostadas within his reach and finally take your bite of the goddamn sandwich. It was good, tasted as expected, sweet peanut butter. You’d probably have it again as a drunk at 3am meal.

Sirius also went and got snacks of his own: microwaved popcorn, pickles, toasted bread slathered with butter, and grapes. Together, you munched on the little spread of random food you could find in your kitchen at 4am in comfortable silence, which is surprising after the earlier bickering. No matter how cheesy it sounded in your head, sirius was the only person that can drive you to the brink of insanity and right back. You were in for a hell of a ride for the foreseeable future; and while there’s a lot of uncertainty right now and changes to be made when the little one gets here, you’re beyond happy that you get to do all this with him. 

Sleep was beginning to creep up on you. Of course he notices this right when you do, so a warm arm wrapped across your back urges you to settle on his lap, bodies melding into the familiar crevices like puzzle pieces, though you both had to adjust certain angles to accommodate your growing belly. You sit like this for a while; your head tucked securely in the crook of his neck, steady breaths lulling you to sleep, while sirius’s hands instinctively finds its way under your sleep shirt and on the natural curve of your belly, lithe fingers stroking and drawing soothing circles anywhere he could reach. 

you wish you could stay like this forever– cozy and soft and safe– but alas, you were carrying sirius black’s offspring. the baby decides to reward you with a round of kicks, probably giddy after feeling their father’s touch. Sirius chuckles and coos at your bump, while a muffled groan leaves your lips from the sudden onslaught of movement, but still refusing to move from this comfortable position.

Smooth cold lips touch the side of your forehead and you relish in the feeling. “Does it ever hurt, love? All that kicking and wiggling?” 

“Not really,” a content sigh leaves your lips. “Feels strange at times, seeing your belly move on its own.” 

To prove your point, two tiny bulges make a split second appearance just above where Sirius’s hand lay. His thumb soothes the area lovingly.

“Definitely getting stronger though; Lily told me during the later months, harry for some reason loved to kick downwards, making bathroom trips more frequent than it already is. Not excited for that.”

He presses kisses on your forehead, temple, hairline, anywhere he could reach without moving too much. “Things that you do and endure for this ‘lil troublemaker,” sirius murmurs. He doesn’t need to say it out loud, you could feel his body reverberating with awe and fondness. You try to bask in it for as long as you could, but a passing thought makes its presence known to you again.

“Do i really make the bathroom stink?” it comes out whinier than you intended it to be but you just had to know for peace of mind. 

Sirius’s whole frame vibrates as he tries to stifle his laughter, taking you with him. He’s laughing at your expense but you feel your own giggles brewing in your belly. You try to hold it in for longer, preserving some self respect. “A little bit,” he says solemnly. You groan, earlier mortified feeling returning in full swing. It triggers another round of chuckles.

“But dove, it’s nothing that my deep love and adoration for my lovely strong hot and sexy wife can’t handle.” He says assuredly, and you curse yourself for being so down bad for this man as blood rushes to your cheeks from his words. Good thing it’s dim and your face is still tucked in the crook of his neck. 

You do pinch his arm in response, and both your laughters compliment the comfortable silence. 

“Although,” he says after a while. “The betrayal of you eating without me still hurts.” 

“Siri.. i’m sorry,” you mumble. “‘y looked so tired, Didn’t wanna wake you up.”

He tuts and doesn’t say much after that. In sirius dictionary, this means he just wants some affection from you— for you to dote on him and coax out his forgiveness, even if you both know he’s not really mad; judging by his arms still wrapped securely around your frame and steady breaths that tickle and fan on your bare skin. 

So you mimic his actions from earlier, planting tiny kisses on his neck, collarbones, jawline, anywhere your lips could reach. Kissing his cheek seem to do the trick, his fake scowl quickly coming undone as a bashful smile breaks through the frown, and his tiny dimple you love so much making an appearance. The muggle maternity books did say dimples are genetic, so an image of a little Sirius running around and smiling up at you with those dimpled cheeks is a warming thought. 

“I am charming all the lids to be stuck at night as soon as i wake up tomorrow for work.” You poke a sensitive spot on his side, making him jolt, but you couldn’t resist laughter as it bubbles out of the surface. “You’re insufferable, I can’t believe I married a psychopath.”

“And you let him knock you up too. I’d say it takes one to know one, hm?” 

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x FWB!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley, Reader

Summary: Nothing good ever comes from a text after dark... or does it? Guess it depends on who it is and what they need. If it's a certain Lieutenant, then it's bound to be something worth your while.

Word Count: 3.2 k

Warnings:

Part 2:

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

You up?

Need you. Now.

Can’t wait.

The repetitious vibrations from your phone pull your attention away from the open book resting against your thighs and over to where it lay on your mattress next to you. Grabbing it, you press the button on the side that turns on the screen and check the clock in the upper right hand corner. It’s later than you thought, but being the night owl you are meant that you were still up messing about even if you shouldn’t be.

He knew it.

Rolling over to your side as you read and reread the short messages, discarding your book to the other side of the bed, the sudden racing pulse through your veins makes your stomach cartwheel. It didn’t take much these days to get your body aching for a certain Lieutenant, not when he’s texting you shit like that at this hour.

As quickly as your fingers can type you text Ghost back, an instantaneous need swelling inside at the thought of being with him again.

And what if I am?

You need something?

Not even a minute passes before your phone buzzes to life again and quickly you read the bubble that pops up on screen.

Are you going to get that sweet arse over here or not, luv?

A flutter in your chest makes your breath hitch as you jump up from your bed and throw on whatever articles of clothing that are within reach; time is of the essence. Doesn’t matter what the hell it is when you know Ghost will be tearing them off you the moment you get to him anyway. Things usually get hot and heavy pretty fast when you two are together, so the only real rule that you stood by was less is best as that meant you could get to the deed that much quicker.

Both of you knew why you’d be there, no sense in beating around the bush when he could immediately be diving into one.

With slow, careful movements and silent steps, you leave your quarters and set out across the base towards your superiors room. Once you’re outside you keep to the shadows, trying to minimize any unwanted attention to the fact you are out far too late and that your destination just happens to be where the officers are housed; getting stopped now will not be ideal. The closer you get the more warm your cheeks become as sensitive nerve endings spark to life across your limbs and a familiar heat gathers between your thighs.

He’s already waiting for you when you arrive. Your knuckles barely touch the surface of the door before you hear the lock click and the door swings open to reveal a shirtless, brown-eyed Adonis staring straight back at you. It’s clear from his ruffled, unkempt locks and wrinkled sweatpants that he had not been successful in trying to get to sleep before his desire grew into a beast too difficult to handle alone.

"Fancy meeting you here," you pick at him as he reaches for your arm and pulls you into the confines of his dimly lit room, the door quickly closing behind you both with a quiet latch. “What’s that, like the third time this week alone?”

As he turns back to you Ghost’s sight locks to your body, slowly taking you all in as he eyes you up and down, hunger glistening through his gaze. "Is that complaining I hear?" he smirks. "I’m not apologizin’, luv. Do you know what you fucking do to me?"

"I have an idea," you breathe as that imposing figure of prime masculinity moves in closer, "but you know I’ve always been a bit of a visual learner, so why don't you show me again?"

A smile that could make Satan blush flashes across his lips and with a growl that sets you shivering with anticipation, Ghost closes the short distance between you and leans in, pulling you against his warm, tight chest as he meets your mouth greedily with his.

“mmm … mmh… !” he groans into you.

A series of frantic, heated kisses overwhelm your lips as if he is trying to devour every bit of that soft, full pout as he can; how can someone’s kiss feel like heaven? Your rapidly palpating heart makes your head buzz as he pours his desire into you and you respond in kind by meeting his intensity with your own.

Breaking away for only a moment, his hands now grasping at your shirt take hold and pull the scant article up over your head and off to remove any barrier between the both of you. He tosses it out of the way and moves back against you, nearly crushing you in between him and the door as he can’t stand being separated.

Warm breath is at the side of your head. "Need to feel you," he groans near your ear before taking the lobe in his teeth and giving it a bite. Your ears pick up the sound of his breath hitching as he comes apart at the sensation of your breasts plastered to his chest, hands surveying the rest of the skin available to him.

“Goddamn, I feel like I’m on fuckin’ fire. Don’t know what spell you fucking have me under sweetheart, but it’s becomin’ a problem.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” you say against his swollen lips, “to become your problem.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans before his mouth latches back on to your own.

You already are.

Fiery kisses assault your mouth in desperate fashion as if he hadn’t seen you in weeks. That insatiable appetite is something of a marvel as you both had been messing around for a couple of months and yet his texts seem to come at a more frequent rate now than when you started. Nothing is more euphoric than to be desired to the point of obsession, especially when it came to someone like the Lieutenant; there’s something primal in the way a big man possesses you.

Without warning his hands clasp securely around your waist as he picks you up so that you can wrap your thighs around his hips, your back slamming harshly against the door for leverage. The sound of your body bouncing off the surface echoes through the quiet room as that sculpted body of his presses firmly into you so the prominence of his arousal can be felt as he grinds it up into the crotch of your pants.

His face is still joined to yours and the sensation of his tongue pressing against your mouth brings you back to reality, impatiently knocking for entry, and you part your lips so that he can slip the thick muscle inside. He shoves it within the confines of that wet cavern so that it can do its exploring while it dances alongside your own tongue; he sure does enjoy keeping all your holes nice and stuffed full.

It’s not enough, though; he needs more.

You both are on the move now and you have to lock your arms around his shoulders to hang on as he makes the short distance to the bed not a few feet from where you are and sets you down. He kneels before you on the floor, pulls you to the edge, and in one swift motion his hands are on your pants before they are suddenly off you and next to him.

Even in the dim light of the small room, you can see how his eyes shimmer with lust and want, a predators gaze just before they go in for the kill. This man would be the death of you, but what a glorious death it would be.

“Lay back for me,” he demands and you follow.

A powerful grip is placed on each one of your inner thighs to spread them wide as Ghost moves them to sit on his shoulders where they will rest as he works. Leaning in towards your cunt he goes in face first with no hesitation like a starved man read to eat his first meal in days.

With shaky hands you cling to the sheets for dear life as the he nestles the tip of his tongue between your petals, gathering your sweet juices along his taste buds as he drags it across the length, teasing circles around your aching clit before thrusting up against it. There he begins to stroke with languid movements along that organ of pleasure, go in with all he has amidst the sound of your mewls at the pleasurable sensation.

Goddamn you taste good.

That face with its beautifully chiseled features is buried so deep in you Ghost can hardly breathe, but he has never felt more alive. The way you feel, the way you taste, the way your hips writhe against his movements all work together to fuel the passion for your cunt. On his knees between your legs is his favorite place to be, listening to the symphony you make, even with the threat that you’d lock your legs around his head; god, he hoped you would.

Your eyes clamp themselves shut as your head falls back while another back-arching vibration of pleasure hits your clit and you bite your bottom lip hard, trying to remember how to breathe when your brain had lost all its functions. Ghost’s intense pace never slows even as you writhe violently across his face, your sweet nectar coating itself across his cheeks. Oh no, it only fuels him more; he’d drown against you and still say thank you.

Ghost’s hands move up further on your hips suddenly, pulling you against his face until he is latched so securely that you can not buck him off. There is not anywhere for you to go at this point and the only thing you can do is ready yourself as that warmth in your stomach grows stronger and stronger, your toes curling with each thrust of his tongue.

Releasing your grip on the sheets, you bring your hand down and ruffle your fingers through his hair and he moans into you. “Sh-shit,” you stutter breathless. The pace is steady, sucking and stroking, but it’s intense as the minutes pass without any sign of him letting up. You know there will be no mercy found for you here; Ghost will stop when his job is done and not a second before.

Tiny beads of sweat speckle your body as you burn under his touch and he smirks against you, feeling how hard he is working you as the perspiration hits his fingertips. The pressure was overwhelming and your hips rock with him trying to get you there.

There is nothing more beautiful than the mess he is always making out of you lately and if he has his way he will keep you on your back almost constantly.

Pressure building, warmth gathering, the precipice within reach with each stroke. Relentless he feasts with fervor until your eyelids flutter shut.

Right there. It’s right fucking there. Just a few more licks of his tongue, a few more precise hits and that is going to be all.

It’s coming, the plunge. Ghost’s fingernails are piercing the skin of your hips as a few more deliberate strokes of his tongue on your clit cause your butt to lift up of the bed as your orgasm rips through you.

Your thighs clamp around his ears, blocking him in against you and yet he doesn’t stop. The entirety of your ecstasy you ride out with him licking and sucking until you sink into the mattress, breathing through the pleasure. After a moment you look down to see the demon emerge from you with a smirk strung across his mouth that sparkles with your slick.

Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he sighs and stands to his feet, fingers capturing the drawstrings to his pants and with a pull the tie untangles itself so that the slack fabric can hang low on his hips.

“What?” you play, knowing what he wants and even though you are still catching your breath, you are more than ready to give in to him.

“You know damn well what. Night’s still young, luv,” he says as he slips the waistband down even lower, “and now it’s my turn.”

He isn't finished with you yet, not even close.

His desire is beyond reason now, even more than before, and it fills his gaze as he stares back at you. No movement yet as Simon allows that bit of tension to linger in the air before he pounces.

Fuck anymore foreplay, this can’t hold off any longer.

Those legs of yours you have kept open, inviting him back, but this time with his cock instead of his tongue. He moves back in, dropping his pants off his legs and stepping out of them. A quick order he barks to move back further onto the bed has you scooting and he is following you, crawling across the surface with the power and grace of a lion before he goes in for the kill.

“You ready for me, princess?” he growls.

You stare back at him, big doe-eyed gaze watching him as he prepares to claim you again. “Give it to me,” you say and that is all the confirmation needed.

Sliding between your thighss as he parts them as easily as a knife through warm butter, he pushes one back where your knee is near your chest while the other is straight beneath him; he wants to get as deep as he fucking can. There is no hesitation as with a strong thrust he is fully inside of you down to the very base of his cock, his balls bouncing off your ass.

“Ahh…” you cry out as you stretch to capacity to accommodate all of him, your fingernails dig into the muscles along his shoulders as your body adjusts to his mighty girth.

Ghost bottoms out and needs a second to collect himself; he’s had you countless times at this point, but every single time the sensation your body gives him is enough to make the man see God.

“Goddamn sweetheart, the way you feel around my fucking cock,” he groans, “just want to keep it in you at all times. If I had my way, you’d stay on your back all day every day.”

Obsession is not quite the word, but you already have the man wrapped around your little finger. The things he'd do to have you at this point border on the diabolical.

There is no holding back once he starts thrusting in and out, desperate to find his rhythm, not with how wet and tight you are; it is paradise. Soon enough that pace is set and you are joining him in grinding your hips against his pelvis. Ghost rests his forehead against yours, rough, strong fingers finding your hands so that they can lace themselves in between the paces of your own as he holds them above your head. The building pressure causes him to start panting.

“O-OHH, FUCK…!!” he exclaims as you tighten yourself on his cock, putting those kegel practices to good use just to see him falter.

It is not expected and throws him off a moment; he’s the one that is suppose to be showing that pussy who’s boss, but you’ve taken the reins with that one move. Someone is bound to hear him and yet he can’t be bothered to quiet himself. If you want to make sure this stays a secret, you shouldn’t pull moves that can bring him to his proverbial knees.

Time after time he feels the need to remind you in breathless moans how you are his, but if Ghost is honest you have him fucking whipped; not that he is going to let you know that. Still, if you pay close enough attention you will be able to tell the signs, like the way he is utterly falling apart now. Fuck, he needs to come so bad now he can taste it.

Desperately he grinds harder and harder into you as if he cannot get deep enough, like he cannot fill you full enough. He needs to take over your entire being, possess every single last centimeter of you, steal away all your sanity until there is nothing left of you but him.

Releasing your hands, he moves back to sit taller on his knees so that he can put the most leverage behind his thrusts. He helps you to reposition so that both of your thighs are now secure high on his hips; you are going to need to hang on for this. Abdominals are straining along his torso, contracting down with each movement until they are coated in a thin, glistening layer of perspiration.

“Com’ on, pretty girl, you goin’ to give me another?” he grunts. The knot in your brows and the way your mouth hangs slack must say it all. He’s going to make you come again.

You nod furiously, focusing on that warm gathering in the pit of your stomach. “That’s it, sweetheart, com’ on. I deserve to feel you this time. Com' on my cock, slather it nice and proper.”

Hips rolling as if his life depends on it, he reaches down between your bodies to play with your clit. It’s working, your back is arching, and release is gaining on you. “Yes, y-yes,” you choke out.

The pressure is overwhelming and your hips buck, the pain of over-stimulation turning to pleasure as your body readies itself to shoot that hot electricity through your limbs. Ghost presses the pad of his finger harshly up against your clit and with his thrusts working inside you, that is finally enough to make you spill.

Your second orgasm rockets through you, causing you to clamp down on him with fluttering walls. The sensation is enough to cause that deep ache to finally find its remedy and his pulls out of you quickso that he can coat your torso with his cum. You quickly reach down and grab his cock, stroking out all his has to give until he is shuddering and please with you to stop.

He has to sit back on his heels and just breathe a moment before he can move to grab something to clean you off, but soon he’s able to go off and grab you a towel, handing it to you as he falls on the bed beside you while you finish wiping off the last of his cream.

“So, I guess that means we’re done here right?” you playfully tease him as you throw the towel aside and lay back down.

Strong arms enfold you and pull him to his chest as he smirks, the euphoria of his orgasm still coursing through his veins.

He catches your mouth with his to shut you up. “You should know fucking better than that, luv,” he says, nipping at your lips. “Price may own you when the sun is up, but that still a ways off. You and that sweet cunt of yours are mine until then.”

Hell, he cannot seem to ever get enough of you no matter how many times you frequent his bed. Those strong fingers draw lazy circles across your back, making you tingle as you come back down from your high

You chuckle sleepily, the consequences of you staying up so late mixing with the act you just performed. “I’ll be so tired, not gonna be able to run drills properly.”

“More complainin’?” he retorts. “I must not have finished the fucking job yet. You’ve been doin’ just fine with keeping up with your duties so far. Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll make sure your proper exhausted just as I always do.”

[noirflms]

AGAIN — seishiro nagi

nagi’s hoodies have been disappearing recently and he knows who the culprit is. he is certain, for you have strike away at his precious hoodies - again.

“you took my hoodie. again.”

seishiro nagi begins, and ends his allegation with a sigh. he has his eyebrows furrowed, eyes looking straight at your figure that is sprawled onto his home couch. this is not the first time he had seen one of his best hoodies be lost again, this is a repetition of many cycles of stealing and getting the hoodie of his back.

“what are you even talking about? what hoodie, if you mind?” you say nonchalantly, eyes fixated on the running to show of yours. you know very well what he is talking about. but if he wants it back, he has to fight for it and you don’t back down from fights revolving around his comfortable and soft, pillow like hoodies ( you wonder how he always gets the good ones. )

“i know you took it back home, babe.” he sighs. nagi has forgotten the number of times he has sighed in the day, since his long search of finding his one great hoodie – it was certainly the only hoodie left after you took almost half of them.

“pffft— as i really do have a use for them.” you chuckle. the sweat form on your forehead when you hear him approach his footsteps echoing through the house, and when he is just right behind you, the 6’3 boy takes gentle hold of your neck and makes you look right at him, eye to eye and he is not surprised with your antiques at all.

“you saying something, princess. i know you’ve got all of them.” he say and you gulp, he feels the lump being swallowed. “just give me two of my hoodies back, love. i’m out of all of them.” he sighs as he let’s go of your neck and pinches your nose making you stop breathing as you smack at his arm.

“hey! now that is rude. you won’t be getting a single hoodie back after this!” you grumble as you punch him right in the arm, but all nagi does is laugh softly at your light hits. god, he has a baby for a girlfriend.

“so, you do have my hoodies.” he says taking his seat right next to you. eyes wide, you freeze in your spot, you look at him owl eyed. you look like a deer caught in red lights. he smirks as he looks at you, the tv show still running in the background. “so, do i get two back or not? or either the whole lot please.”

“but your hoodies are comfortable.” you pout, and the look shakes nagi’s resolve of asking his hoodies back, a bit. he almost gives in, but no, he has to stay strong, he has to get just two, maybe four of his hoodies back.

“and they smell like you, so, i take them with me.” you say softly and he almost – keyword is almost – answers without thinking but he is on a mission. he is strong man, but gosh, but this girl he loves shakes the whatever resolve he has to the core, he just becomes something unlike to what a monster he is on the football ground.

but you begin again, voice one of reason and thought as you tap a finger on your chin.

“but they’ve lost your smell now, so i’ll return them. but! you’ll have to give me another which still has your smell!” and you’ve struck yourself a deal here. your smile has grown a thousand watt more and nagi think, it’s fine for you to take his hoodies, you look good walking around in them and they keep bachira away with his rizz full comments.

“deal.” he softly smiles. and his words send you to cloud nine and you press a chaste peck to his lips, and go back to watching your tv show, as he looks at you sighing softly. god, he’d give you all his hoodies, if it means you’ll be striking deals like this now and then.

and he would now like you to steal his hoodies every now and then. and again.

RAHHHHHH 🦅🦅 i love nagi and i missed blue lock content on my blog so HERE YA GO MAUH 😋🍒

NOIRFLMS 2024 ! all rights reserved - plagiarism is a crime , do not translate my works without permission.

[himegureisu]

The Howler

Summary: Your husband, Severus, receives a Howler from you.

A/N: This prompt randomly passed through my brain. I thought it would be nice. It did take a day or two to write but here it is! I hope you like it, this is the first time I'm writing for Severus x Reader.

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

In the Great Hall, the breakfast banquet was served. Their students eagerly chattered among friends over good food and drink before classes. On the other hand at the High Table, small talk and occasional personal questions were exchanged.

That’s until the owls, in turn, the mail, came for the day.

Their tiny but sturdy claws carried various packages from letters, gifts, newspapers, and journal subscriptions. Among them, one particular barn owl was heading straight toward the High Table holding a distinct red letter.

From afar, Severus could see the owl, ignoring the House Tables, and coming straight for him. It wasn’t his owl. No, it was your owl. If it was your owl then…

“Oh dear,” Severus said,

By his side, Minerva, who was perusing her copy of the Wizarding World News stopped, to glance at him as the owl dropped the angry red letter above his plate.

“Severus,” she asked, the attention of other professors turned to him, “Is that a Howler?”

“Who would send our dear Severus a Howler?” Filius asked after,

You. His wife. Would send a Howler. You, who were undeniably cross after being forgotten.

Your owl chirped, Severus presented to her a treat, which she happily accepted before flying off. He stared at the Howler mentally preparing for the reprimand about to happen when Dumbledore said.

“Well go on, Severus, open it,” he urged, “I heard it is unwise to leave Howlers unanswered,”

So, he did.

“Severus Tobias Snape!” your voice echoed throughout the Hall, the student's attention on him, “You forgot about the move! I reminded you a thousand times when it was, and you still didn’t come.”

This time the Great Hall was quiet. Their attention focused on the tirade given to their most hated professor.

Let’s just say he wanted to die then and there.

“I know you hate handing your classes off to someone else, but I at least thought you’d make an exception for me!” you shouted at him in mind, “I moved across the continent for god sake! Do you know how much stuff I had? No! Do you know hard it was to transport all my boxes into the Manor? No! It was hard and that was with magic already. The only good thing you did was leaving the portkey because if you didn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to enter the damned Manor and would be standing outside of it looking like a fool!”

The Howler paused.

“I love you but if you don’t come home tonight to help me unpack, you’re going to find yourself locked out of your own house.”

The Howler combusted thereafter.

His colleagues were in shock at the message conveyed. His students stared in a mix of horror, amusement, and curiosity. On the other hand, he was so screwed. His composure slowly faltered upon deliberating what to do and quickly decided on the appropriate course of action.

To go home to you.

“If you’d excuse me for the day, Professor,” Severus addressed Dumbledore, standing up from his seat, “I need to make it up to someone,”

“You can take the rest of the week off, Severus,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling in wonder, “It seems you have some groveling to do,”

“That I do, Professor,” he answered, walking away then sighing, “That I do,”

Part 2 is up 💖

[604to647]

What Was I Made For?

3.1K / Frankenstein AU Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: Left on his own, Tim learns a new way to live.

Warnings: None! Age gap cause Tim’s like hundreds of years old 🤷🏻‍♀️😂 Semi-sentient woodland creatures that meddle, I guess 🤭

A/N: Inspired by @almostfoxglove’s beautiful AU moodboard below - if you haven't already, check out that post and the tags, along with all her other AU moodboards! Thank you so much for sharing them with us 🥹🥰

Title by Billie Eilish / Dividers by @saradika-graphics as always 🥰

For a very long time, Tim did not go outside during the daytime.

Father said not to.

And even though Father has been gone for many years, Tim still heeded his words.  His being the only voice Tim had ever heard.

He still doesn’t know why Father left.  He’s even less sure of why he never returned.

Merge Mansion remains dark, even during the day.  Its halls empty, its candelabras unlit.  If anyone was to pass through the ivy choked iron gates and listen at its door, and no one ever did, they would hear only the skittering of mice and the occasional heavy footstep, so slow and deliberate it could be mistaken for the heartbeat of a slowly dying house.

Only ever at night, Tim goes out to the woods behind the now dusty and crumbling mansion.  Those same woods where Father would have him lift, throw, break - repeatedly.  And Father would write furiously in his notebooks.  Tim thinks maybe that’s what he was made for.

For more years than can be counted, enough so that he passes into legend, Tim continues to do what he knows.  He uproots trees and plants and heaves them over knolls and into streams.  He rolls boulders and smashes rocks.  He haunts the forest alone until the dawn threatens to pierce through the thick overhang of the old growth trees; hiding within the moss-covered stone walls of the only home he’s ever known until night brings cover once again.

Until one night after so many nights, he just… doesn’t.  Instead of his nightly exertion to prove something to the darkness, Tim just sits and bathes in the pureness of the moonlight.  He breathes in the earthy musk of the forest’s damp soil and the sweet scent of pine mixed with bark sap.  Instead of his own laboured breathing, Tim finally hears the babbling of the brooks, the hooting of the owls, and soft breeze whistling between the low berry bushes and the high tree tops.  Tim doesn’t know if he was made to be at peace, but he finds that he can do it all the same.

He teaches himself to read.  At first using words Father would say and the signs he would point to in the room Tim lived in: Lock.  Unlock.  Hot.  Cold.  On.  Off.  Danger.  Stop.

Then from books about nature that he finds in the library, remembering words that Father would use to describe their surroundings when in the woods that Tim now knows so well.

Tree.  Rock.  Hill.  Hole.

It takes a very, very long time.  But Tim has nothing but time.

He’s not even sure if he’s doing it right - he has no one to ask.  Not that he could even if there was.  He says the words in his head the way he thinks they sound, but with no voice, never out loud.  He wasn’t made for that.

It’s no matter.  Even if he isn’t sure he’s sounding them out properly, Tim thinks he’s assigned the words to the pictures in the books of animals and landscapes correctly.  There are other books, as well.  Ones with illustrations that are foreign to him and where the words denote meaning that he doesn’t think he will ever understand, but he learns them anyways:  Music.  Dance.  Laugh.  Feast.  Love.

In his woods, Tim no longer destroys: he clears, builds, tends.  Tim carves out paths that feel softer on the bottoms of his lumbering feet.  He removes dead branches from healthy trunks and uses them to sweep the forest floor.  He rolls away dead trees, some fell by age or disease, others by his own hand in the olden days when he thought that was what he was made for.

He still only does these things under the cover of night.  Father had said to be afraid of the village at the bottom of the looming hill upon which Merge Mansion perched.  He warned Tim that if he was discovered, the villagers would come and hurt them both.  Tim wishes that he had known the words or had the voice to tell Father that he would have protected him.  That perhaps it was the villagers who should have been afraid of him. Father’s notebooks say that he was built to be fierce. 

The bunnies in the woods do not seem to think so.  Nor the foxes, or the badgers, or the mice.  The deer do not find Tim to be fearsome, and the birds readily to flock to him.

He supposes it’s because he starts to help them build their nests; his long legs easily carry him to the farthest corners of the woods where the best nesting materials can be gathered.  He volunteers his big, pawlike hands to dig their burrows and holes.  His strength he uses to drag logs and branches to where whole furry families reside, breaking the thick wood into smaller pieces to help them expand and fortify their homes for their growing broods and the incoming weather.  He’s tall enough to lift baby birds back into their nests when they fall out before they’re ready to fly.  He forages and shares all his bounty, himself having no need for sustenance. 

Tim would not mind if this is what he was made for.

The years continue to pass.  The village at the bottom of the hill gets less busy, smaller, and is eventually gone.  Tim only knows because he witnesses the number of tiny square windows illuminated by bright candles during the night, dwindle until there is only darkness.

From the now dilapidated walls of Merge Mansion, Tim watches as what remains of the village rots and is reclaimed by the Earth.  It looks less frightening to him the way it stands now, wild and lush - much more like his beloved forest where he’s only ever known friendly creatures.

It’s the bunnies who convince him to come out in the daytime. 

It had been an especially abundant year for the rabbits, with baby bunnies almost overrunning the forest floor.  The mamas plead with Tim using their big brown eyes to help round up their little ones and keep them safe, making sure none of them strayed too far from the safety of the woods.

Little bunnies are hard to see in the dark.

The first time Tim steps outside during the day, he’s so blinded by the sky’s brightness that he thinks perhaps his eyes were not made for sunlight.  His forest is so green in the daytime.  A richness of browns with the occasional pop of red, blue, even lavender.  In the winters, the snow is so white during the day it appears almost clear.  Once the snow has melted, the streams splash with fish that jump during the day – something that never happens at night.  The sun’s beams warm Tim’s rough skin in a way the moon’s cold, comfortable ambiance never has.  The sounds of the forest are so much louder, cheerier in the day than they are at night – it strikes Tim as odd given it’s the same forest but he supposes he feels more alive during the day as well.

The deer are the ones that lead him out of the forest and to the front of the house.  The overgrown grass on the Merge Mansion hill begs to be grazed on, and with the village gone, Tim and the deer while away many days unseen and unbothered amongst the soft green blades – looking out to a splendid view of rolling plains and sprawling forests stretching all the way to the horizon.  He never strays far from the house - still heeding Father’s words of caution even though the dangers he warned against look to be long gone.

Tim doesn’t even know that another village has sprung up somewhere on the other side of a low mountain that he considers to be more than a fair distance away until you.  The first time he sees you, you’re but a little girl and you come with your own father to the cemetery that rests at the bottom of his hill, where it once bordered the old village.  The same cemetery from which Father gathered the parts that make up Tim as he is, if Father’s notebooks are to be believed.  The deer scamper away before you or your father see them, but Tim stays and hides, watches.

He hears your father tell you that these graves belong to your ancestors who once lived in the old village that’s now gone and that even though you live on the other side of the mountain, you should still pay your respects.  Tim listens to your cheery chatter and the hum of your father’s merry tunes as the two of you clean the gravestones, pull the weeds, plant fresh gardens.

You and your father come every week and Tim begins to look forward to it.  He watches you grow into a beautiful woman and your father into an old man.  He listens to the musical lilt of your voice and the gentle teasing of your father as the two of you care for and nurture the plot of land at the base of the Merge Mansion Hill so that it grows vibrant and fragrant with flowers that he’s only ever seen in Father’s books.  He hears your father tell you stories he heard as a child about the house that Tim lives in – the legend of a mad scientist and a terrible monster.  Tim doesn’t know why, but he feels relief when you laugh at these stories and call them ridiculous.

When your father stops coming with you, Tim watches over you in his stead.  You continue to do your duty in the cemetery joyfully and your sweetness is like an invitation.  The bunnies and the foxes and the mice and the deer all come down to join you.  You laugh and share your food with them and they enjoy your company as much as you do theirs.  Music.  Dance.  Laugh.  Feast.  He thinks he finally understands.  When his furry friends turn their soulful eyes up to the house, Tim knows they’re looking to him to come down but he shakes his head no.  He’s not made for this.

He doesn’t know that you see him anyways.

You’ve known he was there since the days you would come to this cemetery with your father as a little girl.  Most times as just a shadow on the Merge Mansion grounds, but once or twice you had seen Tim’s handsome, haunted face in one of the cracked windows.

You don’t know who he is or what he is, but some how you know that you have to pretend that you’re unaware of his presence.  As if for some laughable reason, he finds you to be frightening.

So, you try to make yourself to be as nonintimidating as possible.  You wear soft flowing fabrics that lie prettily over your equally soft skin in pleasing colours that compliment the hue of your hair and the brightness of your eyes.  You keep your voice gentle and the sound of your notes harmonious when you sing or hum your favourite songs of love and fantasy.  When your father tells you the old stories of the Merge Mansion Monster, you make sure to loudly decry this characterization.  Your unseen friend is not a monster, and you want to make sure that he knows you know that.

Your woodland friends who proclaim to know him best seem to say, give him time.  So you do, waiting patiently for a sign.  For what?  You don’t know.  Just a sign for more.

It comes one summer day, many, many years after your weekly trips to the cemetery became solo trips.  For two weeks, you’ve been in a state of mild panic, unable to find the delicate gold chain necklace that your father gave you - his last gift to you before he passed.  A part of you fears that it may have come unclasped and dropped onto the path some time during your weekly trip to the Merge Mansion cemetery; your heart clenches – if that was the case, your treasured necklace is surely lost.

Your surprise when you find your necklace waiting for you on top of a gravestone next to a small tied bundle of lavender is palpable.  Your eyes threaten to overflow with tears as you look up the hill to the house and mouth, thank you.

You don’t know that you had actually lost your necklace next to this very gravestone and that one of your bluebird friends had carried it up to Tim in its beak.  Tim spends two weeks practicing making the small bouquet of lavender – his large and clumsy hands unused to the precise and delicate movements required.  He refers to the instructions in the book he found so many times he can see the diagrams in his sleep.  But he keeps trying until he gets it right – wanting to offer you something more than just your returned necklace as a token of his appreciation for all the work you do.  Holding the delicate chain in his oversized hand, he can’t stop looking at it glittering in the moonlight and admiring its intricate craftsmanship.  It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.  Well, second.

The next week, Tim discovers a large and fragrant bouquet of the cemetery’s best and biggest blooms laid outside of his iron gates.

Three weeks later, on the same gravestone, you find those flowers dried and pressed, then laced together in a pretty flower crown.

You weave your own from new fresh flowers and leave it in place of the dried one you take home.  The following week, the crown you made is gone, and in its place, a large pile of fresh wild berries that must come from the forest behind the mansion.

The squirrels had objected, but Tim promised that the reduction of berries from their weekly hoard would be for a good cause.  You helped prove him right the following week when he returned from the hill with a jar of wild berry jam which he happily shared.

This continues for months.  Each week a small, thoughtful trinket exchanged - neither you or Tim having much to offer except your consideration and time.  The giddy anticipation and resulting awe a gift in itself.

The day you bring a blanket that took you six weeks to knit, you’re imbued with a bravery (the source of which is unknown even to you) that brings you all the way to Tim’s doorstep.  The heavy door opens when you push against it, but no one answers when you call out.

While Tim is in the woods assisting with the birth of a newborn deer, you’re wandering the dark, musty halls of Merge Mansion.  You find where you think Tim must sleep: in a room that looks like a lab - electrical wire equipment, gurneys, restraints and medical utensils long since pushed against the walls of the room and abandoned.

You read the notebooks left behind by the scientist and seethe on Tim’s behalf.  To call him a Creature!  To experiment on him and put him through trials of endurance and strength as if he was merely an instrument for violence!  You’re grateful that Tim’s creator must be long dead by now, else he might not be able to escape the vitriol you feel rising in your chest at the mistreatment Tim endured at his hand.

You leave the blanket and the mansion in a hurry.

When Tim comes back into the house, he knows immediately that you were there.  He smells you.  The sweet floral perfume from your garden and the sticky scent of fruit from your jams hangs in the air.  Nothing in this house or the forest smells quite so lovely.  You were here. 

With growing distress, he finds your thoughtful gift in the room where he sleeps and knows that you’ve read Father’s notebooks.  You know the truth of what he is now.  He’ll never see you again.

But you come back.

You leave him a letter and for three weeks, he reads it every day. 

It’s a letter that tells him about yourself and your family, and how you came to be his weekly visitor.  You tell him how you’ve always known he’s been there but you were afraid to scare him away so you never let on that you saw him.  You tell him that now that you’ve calmed down a bit, you’re not quite so angry at Father but you do think that he didn’t understand Tim’s true nature, or perhaps, you concede, he simply wasn’t gifted enough time to understand. 

You tell him what you think of his nature.  In your experience, men who are strong are rarely gentle and those who harness power are hardly ever giving.  But Tim is.  His hands, arms and muscles may be sewn together from much lesser men, but he, Tim, wields his strength to protect and look after others.  His heart may not be able to pull down trees or break rock, but it’s tender and pure – and where his true power lies.

You write that even though you’ve never met him face to face, you only ever feel safe and cared for knowing he’s around.  And you hope that even if he never forgives you for trespassing in his home and going through his personal belongings without his permission, he will take your words to heart.

Every week you come back to the doors of Merge Mansion bearing a small gift and a big apology, but Tim is nowhere to be found.  You’re starting to fear that you’ve crossed an unforgiveable boundary and ruined your indescribable but cherished connection, when the most wonderous sight awaits you as you near the top of the hill nearly a month after you left your letter.

Tim. 

Impossibly large and broad, a hulk of a man is sitting on the front steps waiting for you.  His face is hard, lined from time and worry, but his eyes are soft and vulnerable.  You see some trace of old scars along his forehead and neck, and down the worn skin that stretches over the corded muscles of his forearms.  His clothes are outdated and entirely the wrong size, but somehow it works on him.  He looks formidable.  Wild, yet tame.  Handsome.

You run to him, beaming.  Tim stands when you come to a stop in front of him, towering over you as he holds out a bouquet of wildflowers picked from the forest lands behind his home that he tends to so carefully.

When you reach out to accept, your small fingers brush his larger calloused ones, and the jolt of electricity that passes between the two of you feels like pure joy.  And although Tim can only offer a quiet grunt, unable to say the words that he wishes he could sing with his whole chest, you understand him perfectly.  Your incandescent smile and hopeful expression reassure him that you too, recognize the simple, unspoken truth: Tim was made for you.

🎶Obligatory Billie Eilish, What Was I Made For lyrics🎶:

'Cause I, 'cause I I don't know how to feel But I wanna try I don't know how to feel But someday I might Someday I might

Think I forgot how to be happy Something I'm not, but something I can be Something I wait for Something I'm made for Something I'm made for