#they are THEE one true pairing

[bloodfreakcastiel]

you will have to pry destiel out of my cold dead hands

[mincedpeaches]

I think I might end up going through a monthly mania period for grimmons for a while a la the destiel 2020-2021 moon cycle...

[unproduciblesmackdown]

withering whenever it's like "can't believe they did this Horror in tv y7 media" type thing When what that means is "made a reference to r rated horror movie" like can't believe an evident approximation of Recognizably Specific character or sequence or whatever is in there. like why not. and why is that in & of itself Impressive like well is the scene actually good / is whatever the Reference is being used for effective even without going "i get that reference." do we expect a kid to get the reference. do we expect it to be that motivating to be like "oh shit here it comes. clapping & cheering for Getting The Reference which is the only reason i showed up" like i fucking guess. that "yes, i too Get The Reference" motivation sure Apparently existing but it's so alien(tm) to me (oh my God this media that's not Teens & Up showed a Xenomorph(tm) (but not (tm) so as to be sued?) how?? &, the vision of this, i guess) like does the thing (oh my god. another generally recognizable horror movie. or movie poster) make sense if you don't go "ah, i know exactly what's being referenced :)", is there any broader Effect even if you do Get It. idgaf about clapping b/c They Said (A) Thing i recognize from other media & can like turn & be like "ah did you recognize this as well? delightful" like help. agonizing even if it Doesn't have any meaning If You Do Not Get It. was horrified myself at some interview doing a billions(tm) style Movie Quotation to expand on what someone said by going "oh it's like that scene in movie where she says quote & does moment that makes a trailer" & i was like yeah i do know that material but why was that Specifically invoked to make a point so generic it's barely relevant to that elaborate interruption....like that obviously i think it can be a lot of fun if someone is like "ah i too know that thing" but only if that leads to relevant in depth shared enjoyment of Some sort of specific element. not like oh hell yeah high five over the most superficial thing, or it being a bummer / Shame if you Don't too know that thing, who give a shit. i've never seen anything ever. but preexisting References / whatever passed around description/invocation of peak recognizable / memorable / relevant element sure reach me such that like oh yeah i Know Of xyz sequence without having ever seen that thing. probably without necessarily realizing b/c it had any function in its source material without knowing "ah, this is a reference. & i know it" & like there's no [wow this is a reference to whatever] that would motivate me in & of itself, i think the peak motivation was this sweet spot of like, i was Barely Online before being fourteen & already liked things as an individual experience so the idea that there were other people Liking & Knowing the same thing seemed a lot more impressive for a time lol. but it would still have to be specific enough, might've been like "ooh a reference to thing??" several times & then been like okay that wasn't that rewarding lol

obviously a matter of Taste like idc it's grating to me but have fun with [a reference??] revelry, i'm not making a specificass blog post to an audience of Four with this drive like "oh how i wish that this was Illegal" just like idgaf about wordplay/pun haters like whee yippee i'm a connoisseur, we're obviously having different experiences, i'm meanwhile also having the experience that i don't give a shit about Getting a reference alone or along with anyone else, regardless of any other effect [that which happens to be a reference] has / is used for. or it's like the Huh, What, of "when i like i song i'll memorize at least part of it probably, i like to sing along, if not Extra liking it & memorizing Most or All of it, perhaps with extra effort" (me) vs other people like huh wha i've never memorized a song in whole, much less on purpose, b/c i liked it. vs even if there's a song i really like (like a source material being referenced that i really like) i'm not gonna respond to Just The Title or effective title like half line from the refrain or anything, unsung. gimme a karaoke moment. idk

[scudevils]

burning love — OP81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (slight frat au)

warnings: sexual content (no smut), swearing, oscar and reader are in denial, a lot of talking, alcohol and the consumption of (please please drink responsibly!!), daniel is thee party man because why not, not proofread!!

synopsis: all it takes is a halloween party [3.5k]

a/n: definitely not the fic i was planning on coming back with but enjoy!!

oscar and you were just friends.

no matter how many times you told people that, no matter how many times they asked, you still felt your heart tighten as you answered the same every time, "just friends" lingered on your tongue like poison.

you'd grown up together, from the same part of australia up until you'd both moved to america for college, your parents were friends, and you'd seen each other's awkward stages and subsequent glow-ups. it would've been a shock if you hadn't become friends. but that was all you were.

you and oscar were just friends.

that's what you told everyone, and most importantly that's what you had to tell yourselves.

over the years, after the notorious party boys had graduated, daniel had grown a sort of reputation for having the best parties. the idea that if you hadn't been at a DR party then had you even ever been at a party? everyone who was everyone had been invited to at least one of them, hell half of the people there weren't even invited.

his halloween parties were no different, with the addition of costumes that is. that was his only rule, you have to come dressed up.

this year had been no different to the previous, people flooded the entrance to his house, in all sorts of costumes, and you lost count of the black cats you'd seen. halloween had never been "your holiday" until coming to college, and meeting daniel, that was when you started understanding the real message of halloween, dress up in your sluttiest outfits and drink till you were blackout.

this year you'd gone as princess peach, donning a pretty baby pink dress, white gloves covering just below your elbow and a dainty crown sitting on your head.

music was bouncing off the walls of the ricciardo house, pouring out into the backyard where it seemed to be even more crowded. the rooms had been filled with people dancing, red solo cups resting in the hands of the dancers and occasionally being drunk. a beer pong table had been set up in one of daniels spare rooms, accumulating quite the crowd.

the house had been littered with halloween decorations, some cheesy ones in true daniel style, skeletons popping out as you walked past them, an abundance of pumpkins, and ghosts poking out of corners in a sad attempt to scare someone. everyone was appreciating the most important decorations, witches' cauldrons filled with whatever alcohol danniel could find, lined up in an array of colours it was a mystery to every drink you had.

there hadn't been a sober person on the property, and the least sober of them all had to be the host himself. daniel had somehow forced some of the other drunk guys into a pool tournament, the 10 of them taking the game much too seriously with the prize only being about a hundred dollars, but to broke college kids that was like winning the lottery.

amongst the pool players were charles and pierre in a team, then lando and carlos playing against the two best friends. the game had gotten the attention of more people with a large group of people now gathered around watching. oscar looked on from the sideline, either not having a partner or he'd been abandoned by them.

you took this as your opportunity to sneak into daniel’s kitchen whilst the majority of the crowd was gone. a large stack of solo cups was stacked in the corner waiting to the used, the plastic cauldrons looking nearly close to breaking with the amount of liquid in them. you took a leap of faith, filling your cup up with whatever was in the pink cauldron.

you grabbed two of the cups you filled, one with the pink and one with the orange. the instant whiff of alcohol hit you, cringing at the smell, you drank what was in the cup, tasting both of them before you ultimately settled on the pink being the best of the two, although neither you would choose again.

despite the initial taste, you'd grown to like the flavour on your walk back into the headache of a room. there were never any rules at daniel’s parties, minus the illegal stuff, and maybe that was why everyone loved them so much, people were enjoying themselves as you could see the couples in the corners of the room practically dry-humping each other. it didn't matter how much of a mess was made, by the end of the next day the house was practically spotless again.

you eventually squeezed your way through the wall of onlookers and over to the group by the pool table, your friend alex chatting away to charles as he'd already been beaten. oscar was the first to notice you, he almost always was, resting the pool cue against the side of the table as he brought you in for a side hug, conscious of the drinks in your hand. "i knew i'd seen you."

the other boys, even in their drunken state, made a point to say hi to you, alex and kika waving you over to them by the other end of the table. you passed the orange drink to oscar, muttering a quick "i'll be back in a minute" before making your way over to the girls.

"you're finally here!" kika exclaimed, giving you a quick hug before alex followed suit. all of you had been in matching costumes, you as peach, alex as daisy and kika as rosalina. you weren't sure how, but they'd both somehow gotten charles and pierre to dress up as luigi and toad. "you look hot by the way, pink is your colour."

"you're making me blush, look at you guys!"

“you know, a certain someone is dressed as mario.” alex gave you a sly look, as if she knew something that you didn’t, and you couldn’t help but grow warm with the implication, that you’d already seen his costume, choosing to ignore the coincidence and just put it as him having the last choice in the group.

“i’m leaving now.” you smiled sarcastically at them, their laughs sending you off as you watched oscar scuff his shot, the cue grazing the top of the white ball. "you've always been shit at pool."

oscar laughed at your words, not ready to deny them since he knew it was true, dimples accenting his smile. "cause you taught me." as he drank whatever the hell was in the orange drink you saw his reaction nearly the same as yours. "that's fucking disgusting."

"why do you think i gave it to you." you could tell oscar had already been drinking before you got there, his movement a little shaky as he lined up his shot, and his reluctance to get another drink instead of putting up with what you’d given him. somehow he had managed to pot a ball, jokingly giving you a 'that was for you' celebration.

a little over a cup and a half later you couldn't deny that you were already feeling buzzed, the strong drink working its way through your body as you were still watching them play pool. you jumped down from the table you were sitting on, steading your balance for a second before walking over to oscar. "i’m gonna get a drink with alex, want another?"

you really should have cut him off there, he was already in the talking complete nonsense stage, rambling something about how he wanted timtams but was outraged they didn’t have them here. but instead when he nodded yes, you got him another.

alex had grabbed your hand, practically dragging you into the kitchen before everyone else had the same idea for a top-up. "so...tell me when you'll finally get together." she grabbed another cup before filling it up with the mix of pink and blue cauldrons, she was definitely going to be sorry tomorrow for tonight's actions.

you could almost feel yourself sobering up from her words alone, surely you weren't yet drunk enough to answer that question. instead, you let your intoxicated mind take over. "when he grows a pair of balls and asks me." you took the newly filled up cups from her hands muttering a 'thank you'.

"better be soon then, i've been annoying charles about double dates for months." you couldn't help but laugh at the thought of a double date with charles and alex something you wouldn't have imagined even in your drunkest of states.

you and alex had spent another 10 or so minutes catching up with everything, no matter how many times you'd seen her the time you spent apart always seemed to have something interesting happen to the other that you both just had to share.

the moment you’d left the kitchen you could have kissed alex for choosing the best time to go, not that charles would have been very happy about it, there being a very unorganised line leading up to get a drink refill.

and yet somehow no matter how much time you were away the game of pool never seemed to be ending.

"can you both just admit you’re awful at pool and we can end this?" just as you spoke oscar completely missed his shot, barely even touching white. he glared over his shoulder at you, something you returned with a sweet smile before handing him the cup. "seriously think alex and I would do better."

oscar scoffed at your words but still handed you the pool cue and charles followed by giving his to alex. you took one last gulp of your drink, your body not even acknowledging the burning anymore and lined up the shot oscar had horribly missed. you didn't pot it, but at least, unlike him, you had actually hit the ball.

instead when alex took the shot, she’d potted with her first go, going even further by potting the next two in one shot. "told you we'd be better."

the rest of the night had truly been a blur, you had spent so much of it dancing with alex and kika and god knows who else, it all blended into one big memory, all you knew was that your body was tired and needed another drink.

at some point you had felt a somewhat familiar pair of hands on your hips, pulling you closer to whoever it was behind you. you couldn't help but melt into their touch, it felt like the right thing to do in the moment. the feeling of calloused fingers digging into the soft, warm, skin of your hips was addicting.

you tilted your head back against their neck, looking up to find oscar’s eyes staring back at you. nothing was said between the two of you, the unspoken tension was obvious, so repressed by both of you that the slightest bit of alcohol revoked all ounce of self-control the two of you had when it came to each other.

the heat rose in your cheek when you felt his hand moving further down your body, down your thighs and playing with the ends of your flimsy dress. in some way he was pulling it down for you, making sure everyone in there knew you were off limits. the crown of your head started to feel almost childish now, but his hand caught yours as you went to remove it, a kiss being placed on the inside of your wrist before he brought it down to the side of your body.

neither of you said anything, your actions speaking for themselves when you wrapped an arm around his neck. you wanted him, he wanted you. and you both had for a while.

the alcohol pulsing through your veins influenced your next move, bringing yourself flush against oscar’s chest. his hands were still on your waist, your arms still wrapped around his neck. "oscar..." his name was barely above a whisper, but it had never sounded so good coming out of anyone else's mouth.

although, like all good things are, your moment with oscar had been so rudely interrupted by a drunk lando, practically bouncing off the walls as he failed to read the situation. "hey guys daniel wanted to play-" he looked up at the two of you, having to do a double take before continuing. "uhm he wanted to never have i ever...but i'll tell him you're busy."

you could only hope that by the next morning, the headache lando would have would be enough for him to not want to remember the night before. it was awkward as soon as lando left you, quickly unwrapping your arms from around oscar’s neck and pulling yourself off him. you wanted to say something, but instead, you left him standing there, muttering to yourselves as you walked back to kika and alex.

this was the last of daniels traditions he insisted you did every year, was it childish? yes. but have you all done it since your freshman year? also yes. the communal game of 'never have i ever' which never seemed to end had just begun and you have never wished to be somewhere else than, in a drunken thought you wished the witch decorations to be real and that they could transport you anywhere else but here.

the questions had started off as basic as they alway did, the real fun ones coming just about halfway through when everyone was far too drunk to have any dignity left, but you think you’d lost yours long ago.

and of course, daniel had been the one to first ask this type of question, he had a reputation to uphold. "never have i ever...made a sex tape." he wiggled his eyebrows as he asked, with a couple of the players drank, leaving daniel looking a bit deflated. "thought i was gonna get more people."

the next question had fallen to charles, who had been getting the death glare from alex the whole time, as if to warn him not to mention anything that could be tied to her. "never have i ever had sex...in public."

you lifted the red cup to your lips, watching as other people also drank before throwing some of the alcohol back. daniel had also drunk for this round, but the person that had surprised you was oscar, his eyes meeting yours from across the room as he drank, almost tauntingly he swallowed hard.

finally, you had been next for the question, a smirk on your face as you knew someone who would be drinking for this one, and an apology you were definitely going to be making tomorrow. "never have i ever been tied up." it was now your turn to receive the glare from alex, you mock cheersing the cup towards her before both of you drank.

a couple other people had passed by, the circle getting smaller as people began leaving. just as the game was coming to an end, unfortunately for you, kika had been given the job of the last question. "never have i ever thought about someone else while having sex." the girls both looked over to you, your talk the other week someone fresh in their intoxicated minds as alex gave you a smug smile, cheersing you as you had her.

"i really hate you, you know." you let your neck fall into the crook of her neck after drinking, the couches littered with empty cups really not the most comfortable thing to sit on.

alex rested her head on top of  yours. "no you don't."

you’d been drunk many times before, lost count of the hours spent over at daniel’s, but this was definitely up there with the most drunk you have ever been. the coloured drinks were definitely hitting you now, a wave of tiredness crashing over you as you looked for a place to sleep for the night. another reason that everyone preferred daniel’s parties; the never-ending amount of sleeping space for those who wanted to stay over and if you were quick enough you got one of the guest bedrooms.

unfortunately for you, your fellow aussie had gotten to the last available room mere seconds before you. oscar had given you a smug look, or tried to his drunken smile mostly took over, he never was good at making faces other than smiles.

you chose to completely ignore him, pushing past oscar whilst he stood in the doorway and falling back against the bed. it wouldn't be the first time you and oscar had shared a room, shared a bed too, and most likely would not be the last.

the thought of taking off your makeup hadn't even crossed your mind, already getting comfortable on top on the covers to be dealing with tomorrow's problems, the dress you had on starting to become uncomfortable with the heat in the room. uou felt the dip in the mattress as oscar joined you, only underneath the covers.

"can i tell you a secret?" oscar’s body was already facing towards yours when you turned your head to look at him, nodding your head. "there's this girl."

"oscar-" his name was like a breath of air through your lips, too tired to hear any of his girl problems, and especially not after what had happened earlier.

his hand lightly traced up the side of your leg, goosebumps rising on the exposed skin. "let me talk, she has to know how i feel." your skin was on fire under his touch, the contrast with his cold hand on your thigh, fingers meeting the delicate lace of the stocking you had on. "i think she's the most beautiful girl i've ever seen, i know sorry, she's funny too, got an attitude on her."

even in the darkness of the room you could see oscar smiling at you, a smile that had butterflies swarming in your stomach and a warm blush on your cheeks, matching his own reddening cheeks you couldn’t help but find adorable. "everyone thinks she's the one for me, mum says that she has been since we were little." oscar’s hand now rested on your waist, his body inching closer towards yours as he spoke.

"and i think i agree with her," you felt his hand now cupping your cheek, leaning into his soft touch like it was almost instinctual, feeling the coolness of his hands against your hot skin. "don't you?" hip lips were just barely brushing against yours now, so close that you could feel them tauntingly graze yours as he spoke.

any attempt to regulate your breathing again had been flung out the window, the closeness of oscar mixed with the alcohol rushing through your blood had your head spinning. "i do." you could barely muster the words before pressing your lips against his, instantly being able to taste the liquor on his tongue. quick to move, you straddled his hips, deepening the kiss as his hands roamed your thighs.

he pulled you on top, already moving the sheets down to have you directly against him. “fucking perfect." his words were mumbled against your neck as he kissed down it, skin flush from the warmth in the room and the blush creeping down, knocking back your head with one of his hands to give him more access.

your fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair as he nipped at your skin, making sure to leave marks, letting everyone know he finally made the move. his lips were back on yours, never being able to get over the feeling of finally being able to kiss you. "you have no idea how long i've wanted to do this."

"then you don't mind if i skip straight to fucking you?" your words took him back for a few seconds like his brain was short-circuiting with the soft look on your face contrasting your lewd words.

he was quick to nod his head yes. "don't think i can wait any longer.” oscar made quick work in bundling your dress above your hips, exposing your white lacy panties. you could already feel how hard he was against you, rolling your hips against him, his hands having to force you to stop the movement as he was muttering to himself under his breath. the sound of his groans engraved in your memory.

oscar teased his hand down your stomach, the dress now only covering your midriff as he pulled down the neckline, your matching white bralette poking out from underneath the baby pink fabric. he dipped his fingers under the waistband of your panties, any other man and you’d been embarrassed with how turned on you were, but you’d waited too fucking long for him to care. "fuck, how did i get so lucky." he took off the lace in one move, turning his attention back to your lips, not being able to stay away from them since he’d first kissed you.

[b00tyliciousbabe]

waves

pairing: surfer!bf x THICC!male reader

summary: oh, how i need a tall, curly headed goofball…

notes: HOPE MY LOVELIES ARE DOING WELL. trying to get through my requests, but this was a personal one of mine. slowly but surely y’all! as summer is coming to an end, it was SO necessary for me to feed my hot girl delusions at least a couple more times. also, enjoy the new style i have been experimenting with!

song rec: they. - diamonds and pearls

album rec: sabrina carpenter - short n sweet (my girl sabz ate so hard with this project, i just wish it was released in early aug so she could’ve rly CONQUERED summer 2024) THEE POP PRINCESS!

brief background:

your boyfriend was raised with a silver spoon; he’d never had to work a day in his life and everything he ever wanted, he got. well, everything except you. throwing money to impress people had worked on all of his other childhood crushes, but not you, which made him all the more determined to prove to you he wasn’t just some fuck boi the media painted him out to be. his family owned the richest resort in the carribean, and had hotels in every mega city worldwide. but wherever they travelled to, your man was never too far from a beach. call it fate, but the sea would always lead you back to him. it was where he first laid eyes on you; reading a very lengthy novel as you laid on the sand, watching your friends play in the water. after their surf practice, your mutual friends introduced the two of you and you were SMITTEN - but you couldn’t show your interest too soon. he too was whipped, and didn’t take nearly as much effort to hide it, practically drooling whilst staring at you. his mates would constantly ridicule him for his dazed expression around you, and he could never hear the end of the new nickname ‘bambi boy’ you gave him because he looked so cute when he was flustered. after weeks of regular conversation and a couple walks on the beach, he officially asked to be your boyfriend and you said yes.

when it came to finally introducing you to his family, they loved you almost as much as he did. he was the youngest of six and so he got the privilege of this. his parents especially were wishing y’all would stay together. they believed you were the perfect match for their goofball of a son.

core memory sfw:

the first time he said ‘i love you’ with TRUE meaning; you were always worried that you were just one fuck away from being forgotten, but your man made sure to constantly affirm his love for you. he brought you the biggest bouquet of your favourite flowers, and stood outside in the pouring rain, playing a mixtape he’d made for you. it was genuinely a scene out of a film, he was your knight in shining armour (a hawaiian shirt and matching shorts) and it was then that you knew that you guys were endgame.

core memory nsfw:

to say your bf loves your body is an understatement. the way he’s hooked on your body, some might say it’s borderline unhealthy. he’s so handy and keeps his hands on your ass all the time. whether it’s a spank, watching it jiggle as you walk away from him, or a full on grip as his pulls you onto his dick, he’s a man that would gladly die between your cheeks. one time during dinner you wore a wrap skirt paired with a tank top, paired with a thong that was peeping out enough to make your man’s eyes pop out of his head like a cartoon character. as his jaw dropped, practically salivating at the sight of your body moving closer to him, you picked it up and giggled, stroking his chin endearingly. for the entire meal he was practically sat right next to you, breathing in your luscious skin. ‘boy, you better calm down, we have company.’ you giggled. ‘fuck bby, how can you say that when you look good enough for me to eat?’ he whispered into your ear, trying not to bring too much attention. before you knew it you were face down, ass up and your thong was pulled to the side, as he used it as a pseudo leash keeping your pussy bouncing on his cock.

your favourite thing about him: his oddball nature.

as much as it can annoy you that he’s always cracking jokes, leaving no room for respite, your bf never fails to bring joy to your life. as the life of the party he’s always bringing that much needed energy to the dull world of his mostly corporate family. whether it be seeing you hollering at some unhinged thing he’d said, or watching him (ironically) fuck the smile onto your lips, you can tell that comedy is who he is, and you wouldn’t change your weirdo for anything.

his favourite thing about you: how artistic you are.

almost impossibly, it makes your boyfriend fall in love with you even more seeing your creativity flourish. you’re always making him jewellery out of the shells and stones you find. he loves to wear them, it gets you going when you see the necklace you made for him swing back and forth as he fucks into you. or when you feel the cold of his rings and bracelet on your waist as he holds you in position to fuck you even harder. he’s so proud of you.

his insta post: mostly just him showing off his good looks (we love a cocky man around here) and his beach flix.

surfer!bf my face is his favourite seat.

y/n: that big dick is a very close second though.

tinashe replied: @y/n, you a nasty girl fr.

sabrinacarpenter replied: @y/n girl, need you on that bed chem remix. about to do some damage…in a good way x

your insta post: almost always pictures of your creations; you like to keep your relationship with him private, that’s YOUR man, and you can get very possessive.

y/n feel free to add to your pinterest boards.

surfer!bf: baby you’re so talented 🩵

viviennewestwood: so excited to see your next collection!

surfer!bf: i love you.

y/n replied: @surfer!bf aw, i love you too babes!

plans for the future!

being with one of the greatest surfers in the world, definitely came with some amazing perks.

marriage:

oh, he’s 100% thought about it, and would definitely be the one to propose. the free spirit in him doesn’t need a piece of paper to prove that he loves you, truly. But would totally be your husband if you let him x

children:

your surfer!bf ABSOLUTELY WANTS TO HAVE A FAMILY WITH YOU! sees himself as the best father and y’all would have the cutest kids ever.

tag list:

@gayaristocrat

@multireese

@malereadermaniac

@lysanderplume

@ghostking4m

[honey-flustered]

Kinktober Day 7: Virginity

Fboy!Steve Harrington x Virgin!Chubby!Reader

Summary: Steve never paid you much attention until the day he found your laptop open with your rice purity test results on full display.

Warnings: 18+ smut, mentions of virginity loss, kissing, awkward!reader, pervy!steve, corruption/innocence kink

It’s criminal that the chemistry teacher paired you with thee Steve Harrington. King Steve. How on earth are you supposed to pay attention to the lesson when all you want to do is swim in his golden brown hair?

You sigh dreamily, chin resting on your hand as you studied him. God, he never looks your way. You’d give anything if he’d just acknowledge you. Anything.

He glances your way and you’re so taken aback that you’re scrambling to adjust your position. Seconds after, you ponder on whether you’d see him move his lips.

“Huh?” You say, snapping out of your daydreams.

He lets out a quick laugh then a lingering smile. “I asked if you could get us a beaker up front. I would get it but I’m so sore from basketball practice, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Oh, of course. No problem. Thank you for asking me.” You say, cringing at how lame you sound once you turn away.

Steve purposefully sent you away for a chance to look over your computer screen. Today, practically everyone has been sending each other their purity tests results as some new trend amongst your peers. You knew you haven’t done much but to see how high your score was really put it into perspective that if you were olive oil, you’d be extra virgin.

You return to your seat, unaware of his snooping at first until you seen just how broadcasted your screen was.

“Y-you didn’t happen to see anything weird on my screen, d-did you?” You ask, heart racing.

“Wouldn’t say weird. More like…intriguing.” He smirks.

“Oh, god.” You groan, head resting on the lab table.

“So is it true? You a virgin?” He asks with contained excitement.

“Yeah,” You whisper, raising your head once again to meet his darkening eyes. “Is it hard to believe?”

“A little,” He ogles you, eyes traveling up and down your body. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to be between those thighs?”

You’re sooo confused. Only a minute ago, you didn’t exist to him. Now he’s unashamedly flirting with you.

Steve brings a foot under your chair, sliding you a little closer to him. He leans in to whisper, his breath tickling your sensitive throat.

“You’ve never had that cherry popped?” His smile grew wider.

“I already said yes,” Your face heats up, cupping your cheeks to hide yourself. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“You shouldn’t be ashamed at all for being a virgin. It’s a really neat thing that you’re one.” He says softly.

“Why?”

He looks around the classroom making sure no one’s eavesdropping before he whispers, “Because it means I get to be the one who claims it,” He lowers his lips to your ears. “You want that, don’t you?”

You nod.

“I’ll need a verbal ‘yes’, princess.” He demands.

“Yes, I want you to take my virginity.” You breathe out.

“Good girl. I’ll text you when to come over tonight.” He says, rubbing a hand on your upper thigh before turning to pay attention to the lesson as if nothing had ever happened.

Tonight?! So soon?

You spend the rest of your day, butterflies in your stomach as you count down the hours until you’ll be getting dicked down by King Steve.

Six hours went to four hours and four went to three until finally the hour arrived. You followed the address he’d given you, recognizing it was some old cabin home. He’s standing outside waiting in a t-shirt and gray sweatpants that hang low. If you didn’t know any better you’d say he isn’t wearing any underwear, the outline of his rather large member is damning.

You take one good glance at yourself in the mirror happy with the casual yet sexy look you were going for before you exit your car. He walks up to you, throwing his hands around you and taking in your scent.

“You smell nice.” He says, hardness pressing against your belly and your eyes widen as you try not to pass out. Steve Harrington is hugging you!

“T-thank you. I-it’s my mom’s perfume,” You mentally facepalm. “I-I mean she bought it for me but it’s not like her signature scent or anything like that. That would be weird.”

He laughs, taking your hand in his. “You’re adorable.”

You feel him tug you away, guiding you towards the front entrance of the home and your stomach lurches.

“Is this your place?” You ask with a nervous laugh, trying and failing at not sounding judgmental.

“Nah, vacation home for my uncle who lives in New York,” He explains. “Don’t worry. We’re all alone. So scream all you want to, no one’ll hear you.”

You remember the rumor going around that Steve takes his lovers to this remote cabinet specifically for this reason. You swallow the hard lump in your throat as the door closes behind you.

There’s no going back.

“Could I have something to drink?” You ask trying to keep yourself from hyperventilating. “Alcohol, preferably.”

“I want your mind clear when I’m in those guts, babe,” He helps you over to the couch, encouraging you to sit as he makes his way to the kitchen. “I can get you some water, though.”

“Kay.” You say, fiddling with your skirt. It’s now or never. You needed to put on a brave face, you will not be missing out on this Greek god’s dick. You begin to pull off your sweater, struggling with it as you hear the sound of approaching footsteps.

“What are you doing there, angel?” He asks and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Oh, ya know…thought I’d take this off since it’s getting all nice and hot in here.”

“I agree,” He says suggestively, placing the cup on the coffee table to help you remove your sweater. Once it pops off, you stumble a little causing him to wrap an arm around your waist to balance you. “That better?”

“Mhm.” You reply, forcing yourself to look in his eyes.

He lowers his lips to yours and kisses you. You let out a surprised gasp against his lips before you follow his lead. You can tell you’re sloppy at it because when he shoves his tongue into your mouth it’s heavenly but when you do it, it’s all slobbery.

But even when you’re doing wrong, it feels so right because he’s moaning into it and as long as he’s doing that then you’ll consider it a win. His hands cradle your head, deepening the kiss. You can hardly breathe nor do you care to, clutching onto his shirt.

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against your head. “I usually do foreplay but I wanna feel your tight little pussy squeezing around me so badly.”

That’s the second rumor you remembered about him. He usually says that very line to whoever he fucks. Only girl to ever have been treated to foreplay was his ex, Nancy. It hurts that you get a front row seat to the truth of the rumors. I guess that’s why they say never meet your heroes or, in this case, never have a one night stand with your crush.

“Can I please?” He pleads, hazel eyes big and wet as if it physically hurts not being inside you and judging by the way he jumps and throbs in his pants you’d say it’s a possibility.

“Yes, you can fuck me. Please fuck me.” You say, kissing him once more and he whines against your lips. He loves hearing how much you need him.

Laying you on your back onto the couch, he quickly removes your clothes off your body tossing your shirt, bra, and skirt to the floor but leaving you in just your white thong. He groans at the darkened wet patch, hooking his finger underneath to pull to the side.

“Look at that pretty pussy,” He praises. “You tellin’ me no one’s had the chance to see it let along be inside it.”

“Yeah, no one. Guess I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Fuuuck, baby, don’t talk like that or I might fill you up with my cum.” He says.

That’s another of those little rumors. He threatens to cum inside you. You should be revolted by this but you find yourself canting your hips upward in anticipation.

“You want me, babygirl? I’ll give it to you.” He pulls his sweatpants down just below his bent knees and a horse cock comes out springing and swinging.

You froze, mouth dropping. Oh hell no. You need to get out of here. The rumors do no justice at all to the sheer size of him. He’ll tear you apart!

Panic sets in as he hooks the back of your knees into the crook of his arms, positioning himself between your thick thighs.

“O-on second thought, I think I’ve found God and he tells me that maybe I shouldn’t…” You trail off when you feel his warm cock rubbing between your clothed folds. Oh, now he surely needs to be inside you. You’ll take the pain.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He asks and you whine in agreement. “Then, pull those panties to the side and let me in.”

[yerimbrit]

beam : r. sarang

synopsis: ryu sarang: the ultimate cuddlebug whom you cannot resist. (?)

# : pairing ! ryu sarang x 8th member!reader

# : tags ! reader's gender isn't specified, domestic fluff, it's all fluff really, extremely self indulgent, this is basically all of my thoughts but in a fic, ryu sarang we love you our dimple girl

# : wordcount ! 0.7k

# : warnings ! none

the one day you decided beforehand to wake up early and be productive, you find yourself trapped.

you try to squirm out of the arms of the intruder who probably snuck in last night, but you're trapped. trapped under someone's very warming, impossible-to-escape grasp.

who could it be? well, you can only think of one person—your fellow member of izna and lovely girlfriend—ryu sarang, that is. who else could it be? your roommate koko isn't one for crawling into your bed in the middle of the night. at least you hope she isn't.

once again attempting to get out of the arms holding you captive, the girl finally stirs awake and whines, only tightening her embrace.

you tap against her dainty hands with a sense of urgency, feeling your breaths shorten with each exhale. sarang loosens her grip, but doesn't let go.

"sarang..."

"no," the 'o' drags out, and an incoherent grumble follows, one which you can feel against your shoulder blade, "it's too early..."

that's true. it's six am, the sun only barely peeking out from the horizon, and its rays haven't made their way through your pink curtains yet. you're laying comfortably in bed, cooling blanket tossed messily over your (and your girlfriend's) torso.

there's no planned schedule, not for you, but the older members do—mai, jeemin, and jiyoon are attending an event later in the day as izna. you were planning on going on an early jog, stop by a newly opened bakery to buy some sweet delicacies for your members, then maybe continue working on lyrics for a song on the new album.

you successfully manage to turn around to face the girl, your hand reaching up to pinch her cheek. "when did you sneak in here?"

sarang scrunches up her nose, forcing you to resist the urge to pepper kisses all over her face in cuteness aggression. she fills your world with so much love (no pun intended) that you can't get enough of it; it's addicting. so addicting.

"i think maybe two am... i just felt like it," she mumbles, batting her eyelashes with a pout.

of course, because of how she's laying on her side, the effectiveness of her pout is amplified. having her do this right in front of you makes you melt, fighting a smile but ultimately failing in the end. "you're such a cutie."

sarang returns a smug dimpled smile of her own after seeing your struggle and hearing your comment. she's so pretty.

have you mentioned how perfect your girlfriend is? talented, passionate, charming, dimples. dimples? sorry, your other thoughts leaked in. ryu sarang is thee dimple girl, your girlfriend who is the cutest in the world and, no, no one can change your mind about that. not even puppies, because she also resembles one. it only adds to her cuteness.

regardless of your perfect girlfriend, you unfortunately have things to do today. an agenda that is not mandatory, but one you would rather not skip. "i have things to do, sarangie."

it's only after she hugs you closer that you're reminded of your situation: you're trapped in the unescapable embrace of ryu sarang. and now you're so close together that you can feel her breath fanning against your cheek. if you leaned in just a tiny bit closer you'd be able to give her sweet butterfly kisses.

"can't you do them later?" sarang frowns, her fingers lightly drawing nameless shapes onto your back. "it's so early."

yeah, it is. and you don't have any set times that you had to do the tasks that you had planned. her argument is completely valid, and a 'you lose' screen manifests in your mind.

"fine."

sarang blinks. "fine?"

"you win. let's go back to sleep." you surrender. saying no to sarang is a losing game, anyway.

your girlfriend grins in victory and swiftly pecks you on the lips. you wouldn't have known she'd kissed you if not for the lingering feeling on your mouth or her giggly mood promptly after—but you digress.

watching as sarang falls asleep rather quickly, the corner of your lips quirk up in content. you feel so lucky to have met her, and you feel even more lucky to be able to spend every next second, minute, and hour with her.

the peaceful rise and fall of her chest calms you, and you let your eyes fall shut. worrying about today's agenda can wait. worrying about everything can wait, debut, performances, photoshoots, whatnot.

you choose to bask in this moment, the sunrise shining through your pink curtains and your lovely girlfriend ryu sarang snoring lightly in front of you.

a/n : ryu sarang 😭😭😭🩷🩷🩷🩷

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 4

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS | NEXT

Summary: You and Messmer come to some sort of agreement.

A/N: This is a shorter chapter, but I promise to provide something juicy for the next one!

A03 link

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Chapter 4: An Accord

When you're dressed in a cleaner pair of knight's trousers, boots and shirt, you are directed back to the room you dreaded returning to. Messmer's throne room was just as dimly lit as when you first entered, with the Lord awaiting you like an emperor on his throne. 

He was regal and poised, wracking his sharp nails against the armrest as if awaiting your arrival. The other was curled around his spear, an intimidating sight to behold. Once you had been deposited in front of him, his fire knights bowed in respect, taking their spots positioned in areas around the room, eyes directed only on you.

"Tarnished," he announced, his voice booming through the empty hall with the exceptionalism of someone like him, "thou art not much of a beast after all."

He was discussing the matters of being cleaned up, both through your wounds and through being cleaned. Though, if being kept alive was not seen as a sign of mercy from him, there had to be some ulterior motives. 

"Yes, nothing screams relaxation than being drowned in a bath with nowhere to hide." You spoke comically, but Messmer found no amusement in your words. He hadn't since you arrived. You did wonder if he had made friendships in his years, through his soldiers, or did they find him to be some enigma.

You filled the silence with a question. "Now that you so kindly mended me and had me bathed, am I to be on my way?"

Messmer's eye squinted subtly, tapping his fingers impatiently like a cat would swish its tail. You were slowly ebbing your way through to irritating him more and more. "And wherefore doth thee think I wouldst?"

Nerves bubble to your throat, as you're ready to throw up or wish upon his flames to take you out now. "I told you of Miquella's plans. That would make me not your enemy nor your ally." You spoke incredulously. "I am not wanting any part of this, on either side. I am simply telling you the truth so I may leave."

"So thee may betray another?"

"So I may survive." You corrected. Messmer didn't seem convinced. "Do you know how exhausting it is to fight against your family? Your siblings betray and scheme, your mother is imprisoned by some greater will none could even open, and yet, I am in the midst of it all."

He doesn't speak, simply surveying you as do his serpents, all eyes that seem to read right through you, reading whether you speak the truth or not. Truth be told, you do not know if you know what of Marika's whereabouts, only that war after war has been fought, with no sight of a true victor. A Tarnished like yourself could never be loved, nor accepted, it was known. How they mocked you, but still, you endured.

"T'is a shame," Messmer spoke. "It seemeth one of thy friends already knoweth of thy whereabouts."

You held no allies that you knew of who held your trust, alive or dead. None came to your head. "Who?"

"There has't been sightings of one of Miquella's followers, the former follower of Radahn, Freyja." His fingers scratched lightly against the wood of the throne, irking you greatly. "I want thee to deal with her."

You scoff, crossing your arms, glowering back at him with as much fire as he does. So all those things he did rather than kill you were for something. "What would you have me do?"

"Simple," Messmer leans back on his throne, a small smirk on his face. "Kill her and bringeth the proof."

You could only wish he had been joking at this moment, for the urge to laugh washed over you. Indeed it would've been an awkward time to do so. "You wish for me to kill her? Shall I make it clear that she is not the only one? If they hear one of theirs are killed by my own hands, they will not stop until they have me dead. And they will hear of it, one way or another."

"It should not be an issue for you, Tarnished." Messmer holds no sympathy for you, rather he looks even more bored by you. You think if you don't answer him a simple yes or no, he will just catch you alight on the very spot you stand in, imprisoning you again and again.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "Where was she spotted?"

"Mine own soldiers sayeth the Moorth Ruins. It is a two-day ride."

Great. You could only wish you could fly out the highest window and end in a place far from the Keep, riding on Torrent out of here, away from strange cult-like followers and tyrants. "And if I don't do this?"

"Oh, I'm sure thee shall," Messmer rises, his chainmail rattling with each methodical step he takes towards you. "Not only wouldst thee be wanted by me and mine own men, but by them as well.  Wouldst thee rather has't the safety of these walls or the bitter cold world to swallow thee whole?"

Neither were good options, but despite your odds, you'd rather go against each of them individually than face Messmer alone as the full force.

A hundred cuts then to be burnt over and over again.

He has made his way down towards you now, standing in front of you in all his glory. Now that you're not fighting him, you realise up close that behind the scowl, there is a handsomeness to him. You have to admit that the kin of Marika were very comely.

"What doth thee sayeth?" Messmer's voice is a mere whisper, his voice reverberates out and through your chest, and you can't help but shudder at how he enunciates each word thoughtfully. 

Sorry Miquella. You think, signing away your life once again. "I accept."

For the first time, Messmer seems... relieved by your choice. You visibly see the way the lines in his forehead relax slightly, his golden snake-like eye lessens its intensity as if even he is surprised you would say yes.

Messmer gestures for you to follow him. "Cometh, mine own men shalt handeth thee thy weapons and armour."

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

Your amour feels heavy from how long you have not worn it. In those three days imprisoned, you feel the relief of the 'fresh' air hitting your skin, sighing deeply as you take it all in. Messmer stands slightly off to the side behind you, arms folded behind his back, but you're certain you can feel either his gaze or one of his snakes on you.

His soldiers hand you the necessary things, your bag full of your flasks and the map in case you need it to find the ruins, but you're sure you know where they are. 

There is a tense build-up in the air as you stand before Messmer, dressed and armed with his knights ready to wave you off. How you thought Messmer could trust you to do this, you weren't sure. You still thought this was all some trap, bringing the other into a false sense of security before the other could stab them in the back.

Messmer walked over to you, his red hair was even brighter in the cold outside world. "Shalt thee needeth a horse?"

"No need." You responded, pulling forth your whistle and blowing into it, the high-pitched screech bringing forth the long-awaited Torrent at last. Torrent materialises out of nowhere, startling Messmer's knights as if unsure what it was you had conjured. You greet him as he strides towards you, bonking his snout to you as you chuckle, bringing forth a sweet for him to savour. Messmer watched silently until you spoke to him. "This is Torrent. He has been by my side ever since."

Messmer seemed awkward with the small talk, simply nodding but as if he wished to say more. "Very well." He gave a nod, to which gave the thumbs up for the drawbridge to be lowered. The heavy gate groaned with life as it slowly fell, giving you time to hop onto Torrent, finalising everything you had.

When the bridge was finally opened, you gave a final look to Messmer, and his knights, as if you were waving off a dear friend, not the one who had you imprisoned for so long. It felt odd, to say the least, rather than relief to be going, it felt strange to be sent off only to come back to him when all was done.

Messmer was still towering over you when he tugged on your arm, startling you with how warm he felt even through the leather of your gloves. It could almost be unbearable if he held on much longer.

Now almost at eye level with him, you stared back at him, realising just how close he was to your face and-- since when did he have freckles? And when had he ever looked so calm when looking at you? It brought this unknown heat to rise to your face, thankful that your face was covered. 

It was only when the tension was eased that Messmer leant further, whispering something close to your ears that brought the ripples of a shudder to pass through you. In that very moment, you had wished you hadn't touched the withered arm and stepped forth to get to these lands:

"If thee dare betray me, I shall maketh sure thou art never blessed by mine own mother's grace again."

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Revenant!Jazz thoughts Pt.2

Continuing from this post

This time, I’m thinking about Vlad and his reaction to all this. In the show he doesn’t particularly seem to care about Jazz in any way, probably because of his hyper focus on Danny and Maddie. I doubt he’s registered Jazz as a threat of any kind, much less to him.

If Danny winds up Bat-dopted, Jason or classic “Bruce stole another one” and the news catches wind of the new Wayne, Vlad would be livid. Danny is supposed to be his son afterall, doesn’t matter that it was Maddie who severely wounded her own son.

In the midst of Rogues dropping like flies, Jazz sets a trap for Vlad by baiting him with Danny. Her brother is never in danger, not with her around and certainly not with the bat family lurking nearby, but Vlad cannot help himself- he tries to kidnap Danny by overshadowing the adoptive parent. Jazz allows it to happen only until Vlad takes Danny out of the public eye, then straight up punches Vlad out of the person he’s overshadowing, sucking him up into a thermos she stole from the GIW and throwing it into an abyss.

Wouldn’t someone recognize Jazz then?

Beyond the walking dead look that came free with reanimating, Jazz walks, talks and looks completely different then she was in life. Memories shape us and without most of hers Jazz wouldn’t be quite the same anymore. Where she once walked with a relaxed gait and a calm demeanor, as a Revenant Jazz masters the murder strut, because that’s pretty much the only thought going through her head on a constant loop….Other than ‘make Danny Safe’ of course.

Who killed Jazz? (Asked by @someonebored0100 )

Originally I was thinking it would be either the Fenton parents in the GAV or the GIW, but then a delicious angst idea popped into my head….

Batman chasing down Joker led to him slamming into Jazz’s car, which resulted in her death and a new son for him to care for….

Batman says nothing when he brings in Danny, marks down Jazz’s death as a murder and does not go out as Batman again for a week.

Was Jazz autopsied?

Thee death rate in Gotham must be higher than any other city in the world, so the coroners embody (pun not intended) the phrase “overworked and underpaid”.

So no, she wasn’t autopsied, but they did make record of the punctured artery and removed the shrapnel by request of Batman for testing.

What happened after Jazz’s body disappeared from the Crematorium?

Bruce Wayne paid for the cremation personally, so it’s understandable the mortician would be Panicking at the very likely notion that someone stole a dead body paid to be cremated and sealed into an urn by Bruce Fucking Wayne.

If the mortician cremates an unclaimed body and slaps the wrong name on it, we’ll, add it to the list of morally questionable things he’s done as a mortician in a Gotham.

Thoughts about Jason’s reaction to a true Revenant?

Her veiny visage, with the broken sclera and eyes that seem to absorb light and give none back, horrifies Jason to the bone. Did he look like that when he dug himself out of his grave? Did the Pits actually do him a favor? It makes him wanna puke just thinking about how accurate his zombie jokes could have been… then makes him swear to stop telling those same jokes because clearly he’s no longer one of the walking dead if he looks better than this dead woman who looks just… horrifying.

Though once Jazz kills the Joker in the same way the clown killed Jason, he seeks out the Revenant and after doing some digging… swears to do whatever he can for her.

If this is Dad!Jason, then he’s very upset for Danny and Jazz’s tragic history.

No hardcover pairing this time?

Maybe? Doubtful, but it could happen. I don’t think it should though.

Does Jazz have a vigilante persona in this one?

Hmm, not exactly. She’s not tying to hide anything, definitely not her less than living appearance. She wears boots, a canvas jacket, jeans and gun holsters with hair that looks like a drunk toddler attacked it with dull scissors.

She doesn’t save anyone, not directly, but ending the rogues that killed so many earns her the name “Reaper” and it sticks.

What’s Danny’s reaction to all this?

We all know about the dark timeline that resulted from The Ultimate Enemy, Dan.

The Fenton parents are still hunting him down, Sam and Tucker are trying to move to Gotham, he’s been adopted by a Kevlar-clad billionaire furry who acts like a himbo with way too much ease for it to be all an act. He’s got a home that’s not an active threat to his afterlife and the food is the farthest thing from radioactive.

(Alfred Pennyworth nearly had a heart attack at the mere thought of a child eating radioactive food and that a piece of toast on his plate was a punishment.)

But… Jazz is dead.

It’s true that they hadn’t had the best relationship for the last few years, especially after his accident, but Jazz had become his rock. Sam and Tucker were his best friends, but they had no real idea what it was like to grow up a Fenton. Sure they had some context clues (was the giant portal entrance with the on-button inside not a giant warning sign?), but Jazz had kept him alive even as a kid herself.

She worked herself to the bone to make sure he had food to eat, some hours to sleep at night, and a shoulder for him to put some of the burden on her as Phantom. In the end, she hurt their parents to get him out of the lab and away from them.

She had died trying to get him to safety.

He’d seen her car, the wreck, the blood, the still radioactive substance he called his blood… he sat in the driver’s seat and cried for his sister- he wanted Jazz to tease him and call him ‘little brother’ again.

Sure, he had Cass now and several brothers, but nothing could ever replace Jazz.

It’s the thought that Jazz would be upset with him that keeps Danny from turning by his grief into a ghostly wail, to wreck everything and everyone.

Then he meets the Reaper. And he knows.

“Little Brother.”

/////////////////////////

What about the ending for Jazz you talked about?

That’s gonna be in another post, this one was getting long enough as is.

[sapphicvqmpires]

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ private session

Pairing - shuri/black fem! reader

Word Count - 5.8k

Contains - smut (18+), cunnilingus, fingering, choking, breath play, clit play, penetration, strap on

Key Words - nkosazana (princess), sthandwa (baby)

Divider From - @firefly-graphics

Sneak Peak - Shuri got comfortable, manspreading on the leather surrounding her as her silver gleamed through the depth of the room. Everytime her mouth would slightly open, you could see the jewelry coating her bottom teeth and you couldn’t help but give into the leap that coursed through your blood. It only fueled you more, adding to the way you performed for the woman in front of you. You danced around the pole with ease, using your arms, legs and ass as tools to bring the money in. At any regular private performance, you usually dance without getting distracted by intrusive eyes, but her eyes were different. Those dark browns were laced with desire, evident to the lust that seeped underneath

Tags - @abenomeiiii @pinkwright @inmyheadimobsessed @shuriszn @shurislover @shurismainbxtch @vixentheplanet @lustfulbarbie @pocketsizedpanther @axailslink @tishszn @tishtingz @generallysapphic @heejayy @hetr0ph0bic @zayswriting @vampzxi

Writers Note: this was fun to write lolll. I didn’t proof read as thoroughly as I usually do, so my bad if there’s mistakes. And again, ntm on my google translate Xhosa. Have fun!

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ The night was young, the money was flowing, your mind and body were loose. The music was heavy in the distance, echoing through the walls as you got ready for the night. You didn’t care about your family or friends' judgment on your choice of occupation. You needed the money, and you loved the grind. The pole gave you power; power amongst men, women, and even yourself. You loved the way your touch would bring people to life as you woke their hidden desires. You tugged onto your fishnet stockings, pulling them up until it hugged your mid-thigh. You attached the stocking clips to their intended area before you admired the way the bright pink, lacey material hugged you in all the right places and left you bare and open where necessary. The music continued to blare in the distance and you went to go meet the rest of your co-strippers.

“Girls, girls, GIRLS!” Josh (your manager), yelled in a frenzy. All of your eyes flashed instantly to him, as he flailed his arms in hysteria. It was a mixture of fear and excitement and you all wanted to know what was going on. “Shuri Udaku, THEE Black Panther is here!!”

All the girls gasped and squealed in excitement, rushing to complete their looks before they attempted to put on their best show.

“Fuck, I didn’t even wear my sexiest piece!” one of the girls groaned.

“Nevermind that, look at my makeup! Had I known her fine ass would be here, I would’ve put more fucking effort into my fucking face!” yelled another.

Their laughs vibrated through the room, and you tried to keep your cool. You were excited and nervous, this much was true. But Shuri was just another client. Another person to try and pull money from, and you knew she had a lot of it. You decided to drive all skittish emotions away and focus on your grind; focus on the techniques you would use to lure in the cash. Her cash.

“Let’s go girls, let’s go!” Josh rushed. You stroked your long box braids that were now placed in a high ponytail, as you and your co-strippers made your way out.

None of the girls tried to make an effort to try and hide their excitement, all eyes pierced the room for the Panther herself. Your eyes lightly scanned the dimmed space, finally met with the dark, lean figure that was Shuri. She was wearing a black tracksuit and she was embellished in silver, from the watch on her wrist, the rings on her fingers, the chain on her neck, and the grills on her teeth. She was dapping people on the way in, posing her silver adornments for all to see. She looked expensive. You subtlety rolled your eyes at the sight. Rich people and their arrogance.

Josh huddled you and your co-strippers in a circle. “Pretend your life and the life of this club depends on you guys. Dance like you’ve never danced before. We getting this cash tonight.”

And with that, you took your position on the stage, gripping onto the metal bar in front of you as you slowly made eye contact with the Panther in front of you. Shuri eyes you before whispering to the person she is sitting beside. Nevermind that. You begin to do what you do best, becoming one with the pole as you embrace the sensual music coursing through. The other girls do the same but you want to do your best. BE the best. Shuri leans forward, manspreading with her elbows resting on her knees. She’s looking at you and only you and for a moment the room goes still. Your heartbeat quickens and Shuri smirks as if she can hear it. Your grip on the pole is firmer as a result of your palms being more sweaty than usual. You’re annoyed that it is taking more effort to focus on your performance than it normally does, but you can’t help but think of how incredibly hot she is. You’ve had attractive clientele before but she was…wow. You notice the other girls eyeing you every now and then, their gaze carrying slight jealousy in the way Shuri is looking directly at you, but you chose to ignore it. You crawl towards her, pumping your ass in the air with intent as you sensually move towards her. Shuri got up from her seat and you can see the cash just peeking from her pocket. This made you smile. You proceeded with your performance, splaying your legs open and that act right there pulled a smirk on Shuri’s face. The money flew in the air and onto your body, but you didn’t stop and neither did she. You knew this was your best show yet and your richest clientele.

As the song came to a close, Shuri gave you one last look. It was a look of possession and it made your core tighten. She began to make her way to Josh and your eyes grew in curiosity. All of your co-strippers' eyes were on you, and they did not look happy but you brushed it off. Josh made his way toward you.

“Y/n, let me talk to you real quick,” he softly demanded. You obliged, as he pulled you into the change room. “Continue doing your thing girls,” he said to the others.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

“Oh no, you’re not in any trouble at all. Actually, you're probably my favorite person in the world right now.”

You couldn’t contain the confusion written on your face. “The fuck does that mean, Josh?”

He laughs. “Ok so, I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t feel comfortable doing, so if you don’t want to, then say no but I’m really hoping you say yes…so basically, Shuri was very much pleased with your performance and would like a private show with you.”

This made you even more confused. This was normal. Private dances were normal, so why was Josh making this situation a bigger deal than it needed to be?

“BUT,” Josh continued, “she wants one somewhere completely separate from the club. In her own private room. Y/n, she offered to pay almost FOUR TIMES the amount we usually make in one night. Not to mention what you’ll make for yourself…”

You ponder for a second as your gut grows warm with suspense.

“So what do you think??”

“I…I think that’s crazy but yeah…yeah, I’ll do it.”

“WONDERFUL! You always were my favorite!” Josh exclaims in pure excitement. “And remember your rights and the rules, and don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with..or do whatever you want, it’s none of my business, just be safe, ok?”

“I’ll be fine, thank you.”

“Incredible! You’re incredible!”

Josh helps you put on your large fur coat, and takes you to your escort.

“Well damn girl, look at you go,” Josh says as you step into the limousine.

“This is crazy,” you say with a smile.

“Go get that coin girl.” You smile once more, more than ready to collect what’s yours.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Shuri was not in the limousine with you, and you weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. The limousine made a turn into a gated house and your jaw dropped.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered to yourself.

The driver pulled up, and helped you make your way to the door. Her grasp was gentle and you can tell she’s used to bringing girls here.

“Thank you ma’am.”

“My pleasure,” she says with a slight bow in her head. You let out a crooked smile.

“I’m an erotic performer, ma’am, not royalty. You don’t gotta act like you’re lesser than.”

The driver lets out a small smile. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Well…thanks anyway. I can take it from here.”

The driver made her way back to the vehicle, and pulled out. You let out a deep breath before approaching the doorbell.

“This is fucking insane.” And before you even get to ring the doorbell, there she is, leaning on the door frame of her unnecessarily large house.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” Her voice was low and velvety. You stand there for a second, basking in her dark frame. She was a tad bit taller than you, even in your heels and she had a build that happened to be both light and heavy at the same time. Whatever confidence you had on the stage earlier is almost completely devoured by her presence.

“Well shit, I’m here,” you snark. She grins with a thrill.

“Come inside.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The interior of her place was insane, absolutely nothing like you had ever seen before. It looked rich but not rich in a typical sense. She had East African art elaborated throughout the space. The walls changed from a deep red, to cream to black, allowing a different flow throughout. It was not what you had anticipated at all.

“I have houses like this around the world, sthwanda,” she comments, breaking the silence. You roll your eyes at the statement. She was clearly showing off.

“Uh huh,” you reply, pretending to be uninterested. She smirks like you were a challenge, and maybe you were.

Finally, after hallways and rooms filled with what were probably extremely expensive artifacts, you finally made your way to the basement door.

“Come here.” You take her hand as she guides you down the stairs. When you reach the bottom, she walks towards the door pushed the furthest into the space. “Follow me.”

You do as she says, making your way to the secluded room in the already secluded basement. She opens the door, motioning for you to step inside. The room is dimly lit with pink lighting, a mirror covering the entirety of one wall. There’s a large leather couch stretching on the opposite side of the mirrored wall, and in the middle is what you’re here for. The pole. You could tell it was different from your average pole. You walk towards it, lightly tapping on its exterior.

“Is this made of that vibranium shit y'all be hiding from the world??”

“Mhmmm.”

“And you just keep a big vibranium pole…here? For anyone to break in and grab?”

This makes Shuri laugh hysterically. The silver layered on her bottom teeth shimmer in the depth of the room's lighting. “I’d like to see them try.”

You swallow down hard, mentally preparing yourself for what the night has in store for you.

“Take the jacket off.”

Your stomach jumps a little at her command, allowing the faux fur to drop to your ankles. You’re exposed, truly exposed. Not like how you were on that stage not too long ago, because now it was just the two of you. You could feel the ambience of Shuri’s eyes soaking in your body. She slowly walks around you, appreciating every curve and every angle. You notice she lingers behind you, her eyes trailing down your plump ass swallowing your g-string.

“Nice.”

You wince at the objectifying comment. “And this is just a private show, nothing more. Don’t try touching me or anything cuz I’ll beat your ass, for real.”

Shuri takes a step back with her hands in the air. “Whatever you want, nkosazana.” She takes her royal place on the leather couch, getting comfortable in her intimidating demeanor. “You got a favorite song you like to dance to, sthwanda?”

“I can do anything. You pick.”

A crafty smirk appears on her face and you almost immediately regret your decision in granting her control. She taps on one of her kimoyo beads, dimming the lights in the room a little more. Suddenly “Porn Star” by August Alsina begins beating through the room and you’re taken aback. This was one of your favorite songs to dance to. “Do what you do best, my pretty girl.”

Your pussy tightens at her words. “My pretty girl.” You mentally clock yourself in the head, reminding yourself that she was just another client and you were here to make bank. That was it.

You grab onto the pole, startled by the way the beat of the music ran through it. You could feel the song pulse through the metal bar, this was new. But you embraced the challenge, welcoming the song with open arms as you began your sultry performance. Shuri got comfortable, manspreading on the leather surrounding her as her silver gleamed through the depth of the room. Everytime her mouth would slightly open, you could see the jewelry coating her bottom teeth and you couldn’t help but give into the leap that coursed through your blood. It only fueled you more, adding to the way you performed for the woman in front of you. You danced around the pole with ease, using your arms, legs and ass as tools to bring the money in. At any regular private performance, you usually dance without getting distracted by intrusive eyes, but her eyes were different. Those dark browns were laced with desire, evident to the lust that seeped underneath. She savored in the movements of your body, yet never failed to keep eye contact with you. Her stature was bold and demeaning as she rested her hand on her crotch between her manspread legs. And that made your core grow damp.

“Shit,” you faintly whispered to yourself, pissed off at the way your pussy oozed at the sight. This has never happened to you before. You calmly ditched the pole, lustfully walking towards her as your breasts bounced with each strut. Shuri’s eyes went wide, clearly focused on the way your breasts jiggled. You use that power to your advantage, as you began your intimate performance with the Panther. You place your ass on her lap and begin grinding there. Your movements are sensuous and slow, all with the wishful intentions of draining her pocket. Or so you thought. You catch yourself as your mind wanders to fantasies you didn’t ask for, and you curse under your breath.

“Fuck.”

“What’s wrong, princess?”

“Nothing.”

You continue with your performance, very much aware of the way Shuri handles you and she handles you well. You finish your work the same way you did on that stage, your legs splayed wide open, revealing the dark moisture displayed there. You gave into the lust that eased its way into your body and the way it made your pussy ache for her. Shuri’s eyes were bloodshot with sin, almost drooling at the sight of your wet panties and what hid underneath.

“Now what do we have here?” Her fingers are just lingering right above your pussy, your clit impatiently throbbing at her tease. You pushed your pussy forward, provoking her and it was driving her insane. She bit her bottom lip in frustration, eager to get her hands on you. She experimentally traced her way up your thigh, somewhat shocked that you did nothing to stop her. She proceeds, making her way to the spot between your legs but you closed your legs shut before she could get to where she really wanted, where you BOTH really wanted. You stand up, hovering over her as you grab her jaw in your hands. You place your lips inches away from hers.

“That’ll be an extra $500. $700 if you make me cum,” you whisper into her. You begin to walk away but she grabs you by the hips aggressively, forcing you to face her. She grabs your throat, pulling you in. You let out a soft moan, and you can tell Shuri loved it.

“You sound pretty like that,” she mumbles into your ear. You gulp at her tight grasp, desperate for her touch. Your face softens, no longer in your dominant state you tried to protect. “And don’t act like you wouldn’t do this shit for free.” She lets you go with a slight push, slowly taking out five $100 bills, placing it in your bra in the crevice between your breasts. “I own you for the night, understood?”

You nod your head in agreement and once again, Shuri’s tight grasp finds it’s away around your throat, pulling you in. “I wanna hear you say it. Tell me you’re mine for the night, nkosazana.”

“I’m yours Shuri,” you say through limited oxygen.

“Again.”

“I’m all yours Shuri, fuck my pussy please.”

Her grills gleam under her perfect lips. “What’s your name, baby?”

“Y/n.”

“You gonna behave for me tonight, y/n?”

“Yes Shuri.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Finally your deprived lungs have full access to the oxygen around you as Shuri takes back her place on the couch.

“Take those off,” she demands, motioning to the only thing covering your pussy. You hesitate for a second before you immediately let the lace hit the floor.

“Fuck,” Shuri hisses under her breath. “Fuck you’re beautiful.”

You can’t help but let out a pitiful smile.

“Sit down, spread your legs, and put that pretty pussy up against the pole for me, sthwanda.” You were confused, but you did as she said. You sat down on the floor, its coolness sending shivers up your spine. You slowly opened your legs, pressing your drenched cunt up against the pole in front of you. You inhale softly at the contact with the metal bar, slowly beginning to grind in an attempt to gain some sense of relief. Shuri taps one of her kimoyo beads.

“And don’t cum until I tell you too,” Shuri says. And with that, the same song begins playing again, the pole vibrating to its heavy beat and you moan instantly.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Fuck Shuri! Fuck, oh my-ohmyGOD,” you moan through shuddering breaths.

Shuri looks unbothered, as she begins to play with her kimoyo beads once more. She taps away, allowing the volume of the music to get louder resulting in an intense vibration coursing through the pole and back onto your clit. Your jaw drops, your mouth forming a perfect “O” at the stimulation.

“Shuri, I’m gonna cum,” you whine.

“You better not.”

“Shuri I…fuck. Oh, FUCK. I can’t. I can’t hold it anymore baby.”

Shuri rolls her eyes in response, lowering the volume of the music as the pulsations through the pole slow down along with it, but it doesn’t help. The graceful movements glide over your clit in heavy, beating motions and you release yourself right then and there.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming Shuri. I can’t, oh my…FUCK.” Your body caves into a tingling ecstasy that you have no control over. Your slick runs down the vibranium pole and Shuri makes her way over to you.

“I said don’t cum unless I tell you to, did I not?”

“I tried, I swear,” you manage to say as you collect yourself. Shuri helps you get up, cupping your face in her palms. She brings your lips to hers and she does not hesitate to slide her tongue into your mouth, tasting you in all your glory. She slid another hundred into your bra.

“You’re lucky you looked good while cumming on my pole like that,” she says into your mouth. You let another moan milk off your lips. Shuri takes two tattooed digits and pushes them beneath your folds, earning another pathetic whimper escape you. You’re still achy from your orgasm, and her slender fingers skimming your swollen clit was doing nothing to ease the situation.

“Shuri…oh shit.” You drop your head into her shoulder, muffling moans into the fabric of her tracksuit. “Fuck baby, stop playing for real. Fuck me.” You’re borderline begging at this point and you hate it. You were usually the one in control when it came to these private sessions but for the first time you feel small. Helpless.

“And if I don’t?” She continues caressing your clit, and your knees begin to buckle up as you feel another orgasm approaching the threshold.

“Shuri, stop please.”

“Look at you, sthandwa. You look fucking pathetic.” She presses harder into your clit, and your mouth drops open in desperation.

“Shuri…SHURI.”

“That’s right, y/n. Be a whore for it.”

“Shuri…fuck. Tell me I can cum, please.”

Your knees almost give out, but Shuri pulls away instantly. Your dew tugs with her fingers, but she breaks the line as she sucks her digits dry. You dig your face into the nape of her neck, admiring the tattoo that rests behind her ear. You were so close yet Shuri denied your pleasure and it made you want more. You breathed heavily into the material before Shuri yanked your box braids, forcing your eyes on hers. She cups your drenched cunt, her fingers so close yet so far to where they need to be.

“Who do you belong to?”

“Fuck you,” you challenge, teasing your limits. She reacts instantly, forcing you to bend over onto the couch. Your ass is up in the air and your cheek is pressed against the leather below. You feel an intense sting course through your thighs as Shuri slaps down hard on your plush ass. She does it again. And again. Tears run down your face in pleasure at the degrading act, your pussy clenching with each hit.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You.”

“I can’t hear you.”

“You, Shuri. YOU.” You’re reckless, desperate to spill all over her hands, her face, literally ANYWHERE on her body. She slaps your ass hard one last time, sending electricity up your spine and down your cunt. Your ass is sore, and she caresses your skin to ease your pain. She tugs your braids one more time, locking your eyes with hers.

“Fucking behave.” She gently releases, placing a kiss on the top of your head. She sits down on the couch beside you, patting her lap so you can take a seat.

“Sit, nkosazana.” You oblige, sitting between her spread legs. Your ass pressed against her pussy, and she breathed in sharply at the contact. You rest your back on her chest, becoming fully submissive to her reign. Shuri unclips your bra, your cash spilling all over you. She runs her hands down your thighs, prying them open with effortless determination.

“Look,” she says, pointing to the mirror in front of you. “Look at that pretty pussy of yours.”

You obey her, admiring the way your legs spread open, your cunt rich and swollen. Shuri begins trailing her fingers between your folds, and your back arches almost instantly at the contact. “Relax baby, relax.” She continues her slow strokes before shoving two fingers up your wet entrance. She pumps in and out, massaging your tight walls and you whimper beneath her touch.

“Unh,” is all you manage to say between her playful strokes. She goes harder. Deeper. Curling just right to hit the forbidden fruit. “UNH.”

“It feels so…”

“It feels so what? Use your words, baby.”

You’re fucking trying, but the way she fits so perfectly into you is prohibiting you from forming a coherent sentence.

“You feel so good,” you finally say.

Shuri takes her free hand, and wraps it around your throat, squeezing firmly on your windpipe. Your moans become broken at the restricted oxygen, and it pushes your orgasm closer.

“Yeah that’s right, baby. Choke.” She squeezes harder, and you buck your hips forward at the impact. You look up at the reflection of tattooed fingers drowning in your cunt. You watch the way Shuri’s eyes lock on your dewy center, and you thrust harder at the image.

“Shuri,” you gasp. “I’m gonna…fuck. I need to cum, please.”

“Just hold on baby, let me enjoy this view a little longer, yeah?”

“I…ok.”

“Uthixo ntombazana (Good girl).” She adds in a third finger and you begin to moan her name like music, and she was the composer. You thrust with every pump she gives you, your ass pushing against her pussy with each drive. You earn a small moan from her which drives you mad. The pressure coursing through you is unbearable, and you literally fight with your orgasm. You want so badly to please her, and do as she says but it’s all too much.

“Shuri, I need to cum, fuck I can’t hold it any longer. Please let me cum.”

“Cum, sthandwa. Spill on my fingers. Let me see it.”

And with that, her words pierce through your skin and her fingers do not halt. A wave of euphoria throbs through your walls as you buck your hips through your orgasm.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. FUCK, that’s feels so fucking good, shit.”

“Who owns you??”

“You.”

“Say it like you mean it.”

“You, baby, YOU. Oh my fuck, unh. Oh my god you feel so good.” You collapse into her chest, breathing heavily as your mind and body return to earth. Shuri removes her fingers from your inside you, bringing them to your mouth as you suck your pleasure off. You suck with sensual intention, imagining your tongue in other places.

“Wenze ngokumangalisayo, sana (You did amazing, baby).” You’re clueless to the words that are coming out of her mouth, but the sound of her using her native tongue against you makes your body shiver.

“Get on your knees, y/n.”

You pull her words in you as you gather the strength to collect your limp body, kneeling down in front of the Panther. She shallowly pushes her fingers beneath her pants and past her boxers, swooshing her fingers through her wet pussy.

“You hear that, y/n? That’s all you. You did this.” She pulls out, and shoves her fingers inside your mouth. “Suck.”

And you do. You hum into her fingers, licking her slick right off. She fiddles with the band of her boxer briefs, motioning you to pull them down. You do.

“I should tell you, this is gonna be another $200.” Your voice is seductive. Sultry.

Shuri smirks. “You talk too much. Why don’t you shut up and use that tongue for other things, yeah?” She spread her legs open, exposing her wet cunt to you. You know exactly what you have to do and you do it. You take your tongue, and lick one flat stripe up her pussy. You inhale her juices, salivating in how drenched she is for you.

“Fuck,” she groans. “Fuck, yeah baby. Just like that. Fuck my shit.”

She grasps the back of your neck, pushing you further into her pussy. You take your tongue and dance with it, swirling around her clit. She sinfully moans your name, as you fuck her with your mouth.

“Look who’s the whore now,” you say into her cunt. Your face is completely submerged into her, swiping up and down, in and out.

“Fuck,” she moans. “Shit, y/n. I’m gonna cum. Keep doing your shit baby, yes. You’re doing so well.” She gently arches forward, drowning you in her sex. It’s almost suffocating, but the sound of Shuri moaning your name without regret makes you forget you need to breathe.

“Fuck Shuri, you taste so fucking good.”

“Yeah?” Shuri is on the brink of cumming, you can feel her pulsate on your taste buds.

“Cum baby. I wanna taste it.” Shuri grinds faster, fucking your face as she releases herself into your mouth.

“Fuck, y/n. SHIT, baby. Just like that, yes. SHIT.” You tongue fuck her through it, slowing down your pace as she comes down from her high. You remove your face from her saturated pussy, placing one last kiss on her clit and she inhales sharply at the gesture. You bring yourself to her level, placing your lips on hers as she tastes the power of your mouth.

“You taste fucking good,” you say one last time. Shuri looks at you, her eyes tracing back to her state of dominance. She pulls your waist in as you stand in between her spread legs, your fishnet stocking being the only thing in the way of you being completely naked. She stands up and hovers over you. She gives you a smirk, her silver lined teeth give you unholy thoughts and you can only hope she plans to ease them.

“How do you feel about making a little extra?” You gulp, anxious to see what she has in mind but eager to feel her again. The truth is, you would probably do it for free, but sex and money was the corrupt solution to the emptiness you felt in your pussy. You needed more.

“You know I’m down to make some extra cash,” you say into her. Again, Shuri grins with pride. She places you on the couch, stomach side down. You push your ass up in response, greedy for her touch. Shuri chuckles at the gesture as she taps her kimoyo beads once more. Her strap hugs her crotch like it belongs to her. Bringing your ass closer to her, she takes the tip and places it just enough into your folds that you already begin to moan.

“And remember…you cum when I allow you to cum,” she repeats.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Her length is smashing into you, destroying your pussy walls as your ass pushes back into her with each thrust.

“Oh my fucking god, Shuri…OH MY GOD.” Tears of sexual bliss stream down your cheeks as your pussy welcomes her in.

“Take this dick, sthandwa. Be a good girl for me.”

The position makes it feel as though she’s tapping your stomach, and your jaw clenches on impact. She pauses for a second, removing one of your fishnet stockings off your legs. You use those few seconds to catch your breath…until you feel it. Shuri takes the stocking and wraps it around your throat. She pulls, applying just enough pressure for you to slightly gasp as she resumes her brutal pace. You love it.

“Oh my fucking god,” you say through heavy pants. Shuri pulls tighter, choking you. You stick your tongue out in response, your lungs need the oxygen but your pussy flutters with the restriction.

“That’s right, y/n. Don’t fight it. Just struggle baby, I’m right here.” Even through the restricted airflow, your moans are pitiful. You are completely under her dominion as she rams further and further into you. “Keep sticking that pretty tongue out, I wanna see you choke.”

She feels like heaven inside you, and you can sense the way your juices run down your thighs with no shame. Your pussy walls contract, the blood inside you preparing to put you out of your misery with each viscous stroke. Shuri eases her grasp, allowing you some air.

“Shuri, baby. You feel so good, please don’t stop. Choke me again, I’m so close.” And with that, the stocking tightens once more.

“Your pussy is amazing, y/n. Fuck. So fucking tight.”

“I’m yours.”

“Louder, I can’t hear you.”

“I’m yours Shuri, I’m…shit. I’m gonna cum.”

“Not yet.”

“But--”

Shuri yanks the stocking tighter, forcing your head up.

“I said not yet.”

You fight with every cell in your body to not cum. You wanted to make her proud, make the Panther proud. You bite down on your bottom lip, whimpering as your box braids trail down your back. You turn your head, in awe of the reflection staring back at you. The sight of Shuri’s tight grip on your throat as she owns you is cathartic. Your breasts bounce to the rhythm of her thrusts, your arch was perfect.

Shuri moved like a pro, evident that she does this often but you did not care right now. You needed her and you let her have her way with you. Her dick fucked your walls like they knew you all too well, and you could do nothing but embrace the impact. Your pussy began clenching harder and harder around her grip, leaving Shuri no choice but to give you permission to let go.

“Fuck. You can cum now, y/n. It’s ok, let it out.”

Finally, your pussy gives in, allowing you the most out-of-body experience imaginable. It’s mind shattering, the way your walls contract up against her and you ooze with satisfaction. You dig your face into the leather beneath you, your moans muffling into the material but Shuri yanks you back up, making sure she can hear the sex falling off your tongue.

“Holy shit, baby. I’m still cumming. It won’t—it won’t stop.”

“Let it all out, y/n. I wanna hear it. Show me how good it feels.”

Your orgasm refuses to stop and everything you know about control is out of the question as you completely submit to your pleasure.

Finally, Shuri eases her grasp, bringing full oxygen back to your lungs. She takes out her strap, but your walls are still throbbing from its earlier impact. She lies on her back, placing her face just under your pussy so she can lick you clean herself. You moan, as she pushes your pussy onto her face, using her tongue to suck you dry. Your orgasm is still going, and this was not helping.

“Shuri, I…I can’t.” She doesn’t let you go. You don’t want her to let go. You ride her face lightly, until she decides that you’re done. She releases you from her grasp, and you collapse on the couch. You reposition yourself so you're laying on your back, catching your much needed breath. You are both physically and mentally tired. Shuri stands up, pulling herself together from that intense workout you shared.

“Kiss me,” you beg. Shuri rolls her eyes, but she does. She leans down, and places a kiss on your forehead before she reaches your lips. She gently placed her fingers on your head, tracing your perfectly crafted box braids.

“I did them myself,” you say with pride, still catching your breath from her touch. Shuri smiles.

“You’re really fucking pretty, you know that right?”

You bite down on your lip, nodding a faint ‘yes’ to please her.

“Mhmm.”

“Now tell me, nkosazana…which of your clients have ever made you feel like that?”

You hesitate, not wanting to give her the satisfaction, but it’s no use. “None.”

She pulls out more cash, slowly sliding it down your abdomen until she reaches your cunt, stopping there. You moan so easily, and it makes Shuri chuckle. You look down, admiring the site of fresh cash resting between your thick thighs. It was the second closest thing to sex.

“And which of them pays you this good?”

“None.”

“And how many of them are as good looking as me?”

You roll your eyes at her cockiness. “None.”

“So tell me y/n, what reason do you have to work at that club when you can just work for me?”

You pause for a second, basking in her request.

“Shuri?”

“Answer me.”

“...none.”

“Then it’s settled.” ❁ཻུ۪۪♡

[immajustvibehere]

Unspoken Fascination

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x gn!Reader

Summary: You observe Arthur as he sleeps. You can't help but note all his little imperfections. But despite them, you love him deeply.

tags: slight (very slight) angst? Maybe. Fluffy. Self-indulgent.

1100 words, less than 10 minutes reading time

"He isn't the most beautiful", you tried to convince yourself. But even thinking that made your stomach turn a bit. Though it is true! You just needed to look at him.

"In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,

for they in thee a thousand errors note;

But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,

Who, in despite of view, is pleased to dote;..."

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, you felt yourself lost in the sight of Arthur. His broad frame leans against a tree, his hat resting in his lap, held in place by one of his big hands. Exhaustion had finally claimed him. You had been talking about your day and despite his weariness, he had been listening for a long time, nodding and mumbling affirmations. Now, you had the chance to observe him.

Aside from his soft snores, there was the rustling of the leaves in a gentle breeze. You were a few yards away from camp. Just near enough to hear people talking, but far enough to not being able to make out about what they were going on about.

Arthur's hair were unkempt and dry. You wondered when the last time was he had used a comb. A closer look revealed that it was also unevenly cut. Perhaps Arthur had tried to cut some himself, or the last barber hadn't done such a good job. Strands of his hair pricked his inner ear and you wondered if they didn't tickle him. His beard, too, was trimmed unevenly. It was shorter on his right face half. A small patch under his chin seemed to have been overlooked during his recent trimming session, adding a touch of rugged charm to his appearance.

You wondered when Arthur had stopped caring too much about his appearance. He always wore the same shirt, the blue one. A button was missing and the area around Arthur's hips, where he habitually crammed the shirt inside his patched working pants, was visibly soiled. Years worth of sweat, dirt and blood had worked its way into the fabric of the shirt. You know that he sometimes gave it up to have it washed, but he'd never part from it entirely, despite its worn-out state.

There was dried blood on his boots, and dirt under his fingernails. You looked at his hands. There was something intriguing about them. They had snapped so many necks and pulled the trigger to kill more times than you could even fathom. His skin looked so dry, his fingers calloused. They weren't made for soft touch but for hard work.

As your gaze travelled upward, you couldn't help but notice the various marks and signs of a life lived on Arthur's face and neck. His shirt, unbuttoned and revealing his weathered skin, showcased a distinct tan line around his neck. It spoke of countless hours spent beneath the scorching sun. On the nose, deformed from being broken multiple times, was a mild sunburn. Arthur's lips were chapped. They always were like that, you'd know, because you look at them quite often. And then there was this ugly, fading bruise on his cheek from a bar fight a couple of days ago.

A man, so much older than you, and marked by a harsh and brutal life. A man that had stopped caring about a clean shave or a fresh shirt and a nice haircut some time after he and Mary walked different paths. And - you tilted your head and squinted at him - in a way not the most handsome. His appearance bore the weight of exhaustion and melancholy. His fingertips black with either blood, dirt or pencil stains from sketching in his journal.

"Fuuuck", you mumbled, letting your head dangle.

It didn't matter.

You could pick on Arthur's imperfections as long as you liked, you knew it wouldn't help. As you wrestled with your own internal struggles, torn between your fear of rejection and the undeniable feelings you held for Arthur, you couldn't deny the depth of your emotions. You were desperate to get over this silly crush. No matter how much you may criticize or dissect Arthur's scars, hoarse voice, or any other aspect, it didn't change the fact that you loved him.

His messy hair looked perfect after a ride or even when his sweat made it stick to the back of his neck. The strands that pricked his ears looked cute and you wanted nothing more than to put them behind his ear with your finger. His hands, as rough and calloused they were, could draw the most beautiful pictures. They were capable of those small, delicate crafts. Arthur picked flowers and cleaned his guns like his hands had the agility of a child. And God knows you loved every scar and bruise, you would kiss them until he begged you to stop. Your fingers would run through his beard and you didn't mind the dirty shirt, because you knew it was his favourite.

Your heart shattered when you saw him sad and exhausted, but in his sleep his features were relaxed. This man had every reason to be sad and contemplative, he sure had. Sometimes, you overheard the small comments he made when he looked into a mirror. Please, you would do anything to be the person to tell him that everything will be alright and that he's neither old nor ugly, that you want to hug him and appreciate even the smallest wrinkle on his face.

It was his rough exterior that you loved. Because when you looked closer, it wasn't that rough at all. Every scar told a story, and you wanted to hear them all.

"Yer aspleep?"

Your head shot up and you were met by those beautiful blue eyes that glowed in the evening sun.

"No - I was just thinking."

"That so?", Arthur gave a half-smile and you melted. To see that smile more often you would walk straight through hell without a complaint. He stood up and stretched his tired limbs, looking down on you.

"Yer hungry?"

"Depends. I don't think I can do Pearson's stew again. He talked about a new ingredient and...well, I bet my boots taste better.

Arthur laughed, reaching out with his hand to help you up. You had been right, it was rough and calloused, but warm. And it engulfed your hand entirely, you felt so protected you were disappointed when he let it go again.

"Wanna head to the saloon then? My treat", Arthur offered.

"Only if I can pay a couple of beer later", you grinned.

"'Course. Wouldn't want it any other way", Arthur agreed.

There was no way you would simply get over this crush. Maybe some alcohol will lose your tongue and give you some courage to tell the man how much you really loved him.

[coiledkarma96]

A Day at Hogwarts

A/N: This is my second fanfic of our beloved Half-Blood Prince. Hope you guys like it!

Warnings: No warnings that I can think of. (Let me know if there are any!)

Notes:

(y/n) = (your/name)

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Summary: How the pairing gets through an average day at Hogwarts.

(GIF is not mine!)

It was an average day at Hogwarts. Well, as average as it gets. Our lovely (y/n) had a free period, while her husband did not. While (y/n) taught Care for Magical Creatures, her husband taught Potions and that meant he didn’t get the luxury of having a free period. (y/n) missed her husband, even though she sees him every day. 

After attending to a couple of Erumpents that got into a nasty fight, she decided to write a letter to her husband, to help get him through his day. Heaven knows he needs it. She chuckled at the thought before walking over to her workbench, pulling out a piece of parchment, an ink well, and a quill. She thought briefly before smiling brightly, writing down what she wanted to say.  Once she was satisfied with her writing, she folded the parchment into a paper bird and charmed the piece of parchment, making it soar through the air like an actual bird. The parchment flew off toward its destination. She smiled softly, hoping her husband received it well. 

In the Potions Master’s classroom, the students were hard at work, attempting to brew a Befuddlement Potion. Well, trying too. The brooding professor walked around the room, staring down at the poor attempts the students made. He tsked when he saw one of the cauldrons somehow melting. His mood turning sour, he approached his desk, already over today. Even though he still had more classes to teach. He grimace at the thought. 

Then, a soft tapping noise came on his window. The students were curious as to what the noise was. He hushed them before heading over, looking out the window. He saw the paper bird lightly tapping the window. He opened it, allowing the paper bird to glide into the room, settling nicely on his desk. He wondered if this was a trick until he saw his wife’s initials. He refrained from smiling. He closed the window and approached his desk once again, grabbing the note, and opening it carefully. Before he finished reading the first sentence, he briskly walked towards his potions stores, closing the door behind him. The students didn’t dare say anything, not wanting to set him off, especially after their failed attempts at their potions. 

As Severus was now in a private space, he opened the letter again, smiling softly at his wife’s words. 

To my beloved Severus,

My love, my joy. My reason to smile. My most favorite person in the world. Oh, how I thank my lucky star to have met you. To have been able to gaze into your alluring, beautiful eyes that shine with intelligence. To be able to gaze into the windows of your magnificent soul. Having wished on a star to be able to embrace you in my arms and wished to have your arms embrace me as well. With time and patience, my wish came true. 

Oh, my love. My precious love. My heart yearns for you and you alone. Do not fret my love. Soon the day would be over and we could embrace each other in comfort and peace. Until then, may you feel my love through our bond to help you get through your day as it does for me. My love. Oh, how I love thee. 

(P.S. I know it's cheesy but my heart and I can’t contain all our love for you. It runs in endless streams all for you. I love you.)

~(y/n) 

A small smile graced his face. His heart warmed at the cheesy words of his wife. He sighed lovingly before folding the note and placing it in his pocket. 

“Merlin, I love that woman.” He whispered to himself. He resumes his brooding professor's facade before entering the classroom again. The students don’t mention anything as they sense his slight change in attitude. 

Soon midday came. The bells signaled the time for lunch. The students and professors alike all head to the Great Hall for some grub. Except two. Severus walks out of his classroom and heads out of the castle. He goes out to the location of the Care for Magical Creatures classroom. He reaches his destination. Upon arrival, he hears some rustling in the trees up above. He cranes his neck and sees his wife helping a bowtruckle back into its tree. The bowtruckles all come and rub their tiny faces on her fingers. She giggles softly, cooing at them. She senses someone staring at her and looks down to find her husband staring up at her lovingly. 

“My love!” She shrieks, jumping down from the tree. She lands smoothly, both feet on the ground. She straightens up before moving closer to him. Once she is a few feet away, she reaches out her hand. Severus takes it in his, still smiling lovingly at her. 

“How were your morning lessons today? Hope you didn’t lose too many cauldrons this time?” She moves his hand up to her lips, kissing his knuckles. A slight blush graces his face. He huffs softly before speaking. 

“Dreadful as usual. Those dunderheads couldn’t brew a potion even if their lives depended on it.”  He grumbles before looking into (y/n) eyes. “But, I must say, your letter got me through.” He moves her hand up to his lips, also placing a kiss on her knuckles. She chuckles softly, her heart swelling with love and pride. 

“I’m glad I could help." She said, smiling warmly at him. "Now come. Let’s go eat before my stomach eats itself.” They both chuckle, before turning to walk back to the castle, hand in hand. Hearts swelling with love for each other. 

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Slave Of Duty: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: You're pulled away for a case in the middle of Haley's funeral. Spencer is still mad at you that you didn't let him see you while in prison, but how can you explain to him that whenever you look into a mirror, you hate the person you see? You're far from being okay and Spencer is the kind of comfort you're desperately looking for.

Season Five Masterlist

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"It is love that makes the world go round." - W.S. Gilbert

"W.S. Gilbert wrote, 'It's love that makes the world go round.' If that's true, then the world spun a little faster with Haley in it. She was my best friend since we were in high school. We certainly had our struggles, but if there's one thing we agreed on unconditionally, it was our love and commitment to our son, Jack. Haley's love for Jack was joyous and fierce. That fierceness is why she isn't here today. 

"A mother's love is an unrivaled force of nature, and we can all learn much from the way Haley lived her life. Her death causes each of us to stop and take stock of our lives. To measure who we are and what we've become. I don't have all those answers for myself, but I know who Haley was. She was the woman who died protecting the child we brought into this world together. I will make sure that Jack grows up knowing who his mother was, how she loved and protected him, and how much I loved her. 

"If Haley were with us today, she would ask us not to mourn her death but to celebrate her life. She would tell us to love our families unconditionally and to hold them close. In the end, they are all that matter. I met Haley at the tryouts of our high school's production of 'The Pirates of Penzance'. I found our copy of the play and was looking through it the other night, and I came upon a passage that seemed appropriate for this moment. 

"'Oh, dry the glistening tear that dews that martial cheek. Thy loving children hear in them thy comfort seek. With sympathetic care, their arms around thee creep for, oh, they cannot bear to see their father weep'."

Hotch said no tears but you can't help but cry for the loss of Haley. You didn't know her well but you feel Hotch's sorrow for his ex-wife as if it were your own. You look at Spencer who still isn't talking to you. This isn't the time or the place to fight so you two are on middle ground. However, you know as soon as you leave this place, he's going to go right back to not talking to you.

As soon as the service is over, you all head inside the place Hotch rented for the wake while Jack and Hotch stay behind to get some alone time with Haley. You're one of the last ones to leave so you look back and observe the two.

"Okay, go ahead. Blow Mommy a kiss."

You turn back and cry softly for them. Hotch isn't up for company so he lets everyone else converse while he stays on the balcony and thinks about how his life is going to go. Jack stayed with Haley but now that George Foyet is dead, there is no reason Jack can't stay with Hotch. It's going to be hard to take care of a small child and still do what he does, but Haley's sister is more than happy to help until Hotch figures out something more permanent.

Rossi leaves the group to join Hotch on the balcony.

"What do we do?" Emily asks, breaking the silence.

"There's nothing we can do. We just gotta wait him out."

"Do you think he'll ever come back?"

"Would you?" JJ asks.

"He'll come back. I just don't know what he's gonna look like when he does. We just need to be there for him when he's ready."

Rossi spends ten more minutes with Hotch before coming back inside, and you take this opportunity to talk to Hotch alone. You set your drink on the table and head out to the balcony.

"Hey," you say softly.

"Hey." You join his side and he looks at you with unshed tears in his eyes. "I know it'll get better but I worry for Jack."

"He has you. He's going to be okay." Hotch shrugs and leans on the railing. "Have I ever told you about my sister? She wasn't my biological sister but when my parents fostered her, she was my best friend. We did everything together and I told her everything. She was a few years older than me but I looked up to her.

"She started coming home from work and was really uncomfortable. She wouldn't tell me why but I could feel it. To put a long story short, she was murdered by her boss. He wanted her and when she rejected him, he killed her. Gideon was the agent on the case.

"I know this isn't what you're going through, but I can talk about it without it hurting. This is never going to go away for you or Jack but it will get easier. Then one day, it won't hurt to breathe."

"I know," he nods. "I appreciate you helping me. I'm sorry about your sister."

"I'm sorry about Haley."

Hotch gives you a comforting hug that he needs without it being inappropriate. The door opens and Derek comes out just as you pull away from Hotch.

"I'm sorry, but we just got called in. We have to go."

"Are you serious?"

"It's okay. You should go. Call me if you need anything."

"Take care of your son."

"Thanks."

"Are you going to be okay?" you ask Hotch.

"I'll see you when you get back."

Derek is the unit chief now. If he says to go on a case, then you have to. Everyone heads to the plane since there is no time to brief before then. Penelope is logged in through video chat.

"In two weeks, there have been two women killed in their own homes with no sign of forced entry, and the floors were covered in rose petals," JJ starts the briefing.

"He's quite the romantic. Evidence of sexual assault?"

"None. Both women were last seen leaving their offices on a Friday and never showed up to work on a Monday."

"It's Thursday. Why are we only being called in now?"

"The second body was only found yesterday."

"There may be a socio-economic pattern emerging. The first victim, Bethany Heminger, lived in Belle Meade. The second victim, Melissa Johnson, lived in Brentwood. Both are affluent neighborhoods yet nothing was missing from either home."

"What did these women do for a living?"

"Bethany was a defense attorney and Melissa was a corporate executive."

"Two brunettes with similar features in high-powered professions? That's not a coincidence. These women most likely represent someone he knows."

"Alright, so we need to figure out where this unsub is meeting his victims and how he's gaining access to their homes. If he's staying on pattern, this guy has picked out his next target. We should check gardeners, housekeeping staff, pool attendants, and floral shops. See if anyone worked both homes. Start working up a paper trail, Garcia. Find out where these women were In the days leading up to each murder."

"Like a genie in a bottle--poof!" Penelope says and logs off the computer.

"Prentiss, you and I are gonna go check out the Johnson crime scene. Reid, you and Y/N talk to the coroner so you can start working up victimology. JJ and Rossi, talk to the families and staff and find a connection we can use. I understand that all of our thoughts are with Hotch, but right now, I need us all to focus on this case. We have less than a day before this unsub will strike again. Let's finish this thing fast."

JJ and Rossi meet with Detective Landon Kaminski who has the major on his ass about this. Two dead girls and they know a third is coming fast. JJ is preparing for a statement with the press. Every woman in Nashville needs to know there is a serial killer on the loose. It's at the point where the public needs to know to be aware. JJ wants them to take preventive measures to avoid becoming the next victim.

While Landon thinks JJ should be specific as in certain hair colors, skin tones, eye colors, etc., JJ is adamant that every woman is aware of this. His first two victims might have been from the same social class but if the police department isolates victimology this soon, it may cause the unsub to go outside of his own comfort zone. It'll be even harder to track him then.

It's better to stress hypervigilance and shut his victim pool down while they still have a chance.

Melissa's house has a security system but her friends say she only used it when she traveled out of town. The only other kind of security she had was her dog, which he killed and stashed in the garage.

That was her first mistake. She had all the precautions to avoid home invasion but she didn't use them properly. Just like with the first crime scene, the unsub's fingerprints are everywhere in the house. It's like he didn't care if he left them behind or not, which usually means he's disorganized. However, the crime scene shows that he's organized in the way he puts the rose petals down and kills the dog.

There is no way these two women let him in willingly. He had to have waited for a while before working his way in forcibly. He left all these prints in the house because he knew that he wouldn't get caught, which meant his prints weren't in the system. If he isn't in the system, that means he has no priors, is very smart, and is likely educated. This guy knew exactly what he was doing and made sure he had enough time to do it.

He knew when she'd leave the house, when she returned, when she went to the grocery store, if she had friends and family over, and when she went to bed. He's stalking these women. If he didn't force himself into the house, then how did he get in?

The thing that confuses you is why the unsub cooked, cleaned, and left the petal trail. It has to mean something to the unsub because he's not just reliving a fantasy, he's repeating it. It's not only the same routine and the same meal he cooks, it's proper etiquette. In the second crime scene, there is a handprint on the back of one of the dining chairs which means he pulled the chair out for Melissa. He poured her wine, cooked for her, drew her a bath, and then she was dead.

What changed?

Sure Melissa was scared in the beginning but she had changes to escape. She figured if she wasn't in immediate danger, she could keep a calm head and figure a way out of this. However, as soon as he took her upstairs and into the bath, that's where she was most vulnerable. Fear takes over and she fights back, thus ending the fantasy.

Home is where people are supposed to feel safe. Nobody deserves to have that taken away.

You're hoping to see into the situation more by seeing the victims at the ME's office, so that's where you and Spencer head to as soon as you get off the plane. The medical examiner knows you're coming so she has both bodies on tables for you to examine. Even the dead have energies that you can feel, and you can feel how scared they were in their final moments no matter how long they've been dead.

You put gloves on and touch Melissa's hair to smooth it back even though there are no flyaways. The unsub did his best to take care of them, to uphold the fantasy of love. She tried to play along even though she was scared but when he took her upstairs, she fought back. That broke the fantasy and she killed her.

"The second she fought back, he killed her. Had she continued to play along, she might have lived long enough to escape," you say to Spencer.

"There are defensive wounds on both women. More so on the latest victim. She fought back the hardest." Spencer examines both bodies. "There are no ligature marks so they weren't bound. How does he keep them from running out?"

"He assaulted them initially to instill fear before playing into the fantasy," you answer your boyfriend.

"There's something else you should see," the medical examiner says. She grabs two papers and hands them over. "Both their stomach contents were the same. Chicken, broccoli, pasta, salad, and red wine."

"I told you. He's playing out a fantasy, one he has to control. When they fight back, it breaks it and he kills them."

There isn't much more you can grab from this place so Spencer hands the papers back to the ME and starts to leave the office. You take off your gloves and turn to Spencer but he is already walking out the door.

"Spencer," you call after him but he doesn't answer.

Okay, now you're getting annoyed. He doesn't say anything on the drive over to the police station or when he enters the building. The building has two entrances, one that leads to the outside and one that leads into the back offices. Spencer opens the door to enter the lobby but doesn't hold it open for you like he normally does.

"Spencer!" you say forcibly causing him to swiftly turn to face you.

"I just don't understand why you would keep me, of all people, away from you when you were in prison."

Okay, you're doing this now, apparently. Tears come to your eyes but you don't let them fall.

"I didn't want you to see me that way."

"Do better," he scoffs and walks further into the building.

You're left alone in the lobby with only your thoughts to keep you company. Knowing Spencer hates the situation you put him in brings you closer to the brink of a panic attack. You had them all the time in prison but you thought they'd stop once you got out. Your breathing picks up slightly and your heart beats faster.

Rossi sees you and decides to check on you. He walks into the lobby and touches your shoulder which grounds you. You take a few deep breaths to calm your racing heart before looking at him.

"Are you okay?"

"He hates me," you sigh.

"He doesn't hate you."

"Then he's still mad at me. I guess it beats him looking at me and seeing those bruises... seeing my pain."

"Give him time. He'll come around."

"I hope," you sigh.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[make-me-imagine]

A Step Forward

Prompt/Request: A takes B's hand to help them down steps/wall, and doesn't let go

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Gn!Reader

Requested By: Anonymous (this is a leftover Valentines Request lol)

Words: 617; super short I know, but at least I managed to write something lol

-

After everyone had disappeared from the sanctum grounds for the evening, you and Stephen walked side by side through the training area.

"This group seems promising" you noted as you thought back on the group you had been helping him train.

Stephen hummed "Yes, but they still have a long way to go."

"You say that every time"

"That's because it's true every time" he said as he smiled at you.

"You said that about me too, and then I helped save the world, and your life two weeks later."

He rolled his eyes but laughed "You are a rare exception." he added, his tone a bit softer, making your heart thump.

You smiled as you headed up onto a platform "A rare exception? That's a rare compliment from thee Stephen Strange."

Stephen watched as you picked up a training dummy and set it aside, his eyes gazed over you fondly.

"Why do you think I now allow you to teach alongside me? You're one of the best here."

You smiled down at him "And here I thought it was because you and Wong bicker when you train it together"

Stephen smiled, "That too"

Walking over to the ledge of the platform, you prepared to jump down but Stephen stepped forward and reached out his hand for you to take.

You were caught off guard by the action, but brushed away the warmth in your chest as you placed your hand in his. Leaping down he kept you steady as you laded on the pavement below.

Stephen continued to walk and you expected his hand to slip from yours, but instead, he only entertwined his fingers with yours as he walked along side you.

You looked down at your intertwined hands before looking back at him. His face was turned away from you, as he seemed to avoid your gaze, and instead eyed some training targets.

Your stomach flipped as you repressed a smile, noting how warm your face felt.

You and Stephen had been dancing around your obvious feelings for one another for what seemed like ages. You both knew how you felt, but you were both hesitant to start anything. Your lives were dangerous, was it worth the risk?

But now, as his hand gripped yours it seemed as though he had made that decision for the both of you.

As you headed back towards the sanctum, you allowed yourself to softly squeeze his hand. A subtle way of telling him you wanted it too. You saw his smile widen a bit from the corner of your eye as he squeezed your hand in return.

Heading into the Sanctum, he did not remove his hand from yours, even as others walked past, obviously noticing. You saw the looks on their faceas as they smiled as they passed. Most of them thinking it was about time something happened with you two.

Finally stopping, Stephen turned towards you and looked down at your hands before he cleared his throat softly. He gently caressed your hand with his thumb before he met your eyes, a soft smile ghosting his lips.

"Would you like to go get dinner?"

Stephen was still uncertain of how to word his feelings, uncertain of how to tell you just how much he wanted to be with you. but the fact that you allowed him this gentle form of affection told him you knew he was trying.

You nodded with a smile "Yes."

He smiled in return as you both continued down the sanctum halls, hands still linked, as you walked a bit closer than before. It may not be perfect yet, but it was a step forward, and a promising one at that.

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Marvel + Stephen Strange Taglist:  @aquariuslavenderhoney, @trashywritestrash, @groovy-lady , @marvelouslyme96, @supersourlemon13, @mochamoff, @simsiddy, @gay-and-ready-to-cry, @flourishandblotts-inc, @spuffyfan394, @agent-catfish-kenobi, @locke-writes, @cs-please, @soultrysworld, @a-lumos-in-the-nox, @creativitybeware, @that-marvel-simp, @gatefleet, @skylions-den, @silverose365, @nix-rose, @etanordoesbullsh1t, @dominos-palast, @maellem, @readingwithatorch, @cauliflowertree, @writerfulltime, @multifandomfix, @lokidokieokie,

[eldritch-spouse]

"Occasionally his kleptomaniac streak possesses him to do really stupid things"

"That weakness for pretty girls will be the death of him one day however…"

Oh Pinnie, that is thee combo I live for! What is the stupidest thing Jayde has done on account of his greedy nature? What about when it comes to the ladies?

The stupidest things Jayde does because of his grabby hands is, predictably, stealing from notorious figures. He can't really be trusted to wonder that far inside another Icon's residence because he will inevitably snatch something. And Zizz doesn't want needless tensions via other demonlords assuming he's sending a servant to steal from them... Nevertheless, he oftentimes still has to be bodily searched before leaving another ruler's home.

Like the fool he is, when left unattended Jayde was once blind enough to reach for a crown in King Rinx's mountains of riches. The way the Greed Lord rose tensed and roared like a true beast, as if immediately sensing the grave insult committed against his person, is a sound Jayde will never forget. Nor the most lethal and intense chase of his entire life... Zizz worked hard to make amends after that stunt, and Jayde was punished severely. Not too damaged, he needs the imp functional, but wiser.

Horny loser that he is, Jayde craves a relationship but isn't sure how to get someone's attention without immediately spoiling the person he's got his eyes on. This doesn't necessarily attract the most genuine of people, and his position as Zizz's head imp has some gold diggers, traitors and opportunists latching onto him fast. Sometimes Jayde knows he's getting into trouble and putting Sloth at risk, but he can't resist a pair of fat thighs under a short skirt- He'll even allow you to patronizingly squat to talk to him so long as he gets a nice view of your tits and possibly a panty flash.

[foibles-fables]

happy aloy day y'all

this might be Thee Most Unpolished piece of writing I've ever shared, and it's got me a little bit nervy, but. I wanted to get something out for Aloy Day. I'm nowhere near satisfied with it, but I also wanna post about Talisah more than ever, so please enjoy this lil scribble?! Happy April 4th babeeeyyy

It’s not until years and years later that Aloy can be shaken from slumber without snarling and thrashing to defend herself. 

But Aloy survives. She fights, she mourns, she grows. Those years do pass—one and then another, step after step, a blur—like a slow walk that breaks gradually, seamlessly, into a run. Wounds heal where you can see them and where you can’t. Scarred, but always reaching for the light, she lets go, and lets herself begin to flourish.

And today (years and years, they echo behind her), she wakes calmly to a weight scrambling onto the bed and a quick jostle of her shoulder.

It’s past the time when she usually rises. Slowly, she coaxes her eyes open, squinting against the bold Meridian sun streaming in through the bedroom windows. As her vision clears, it settles on another pair of eyes, intent and bright, hovering very close. 

It’s the same amber gaze she’s grown used to waking up beside, reprised on a small face that Aloy knows is half her own—even if most couldn’t tell from a single glance.

Talisah, three years old and bursting with every bit of its energetic willfulness, leans in and speaks a little too loudly for the distance.

“It’s morning, momma.”

Aloy blinks hard and reels back from the near-shout with a soft, surprised laugh. Voice scratchy with oversleep, she says, “So it is, girl.” By habit, she lifts her finger to tap her daughter’s nose—Talisah scrunches her freckle-dusted face into a grin. It’s Talanah’s smile, through and through. “How come you’re waking me?”

She says, “For your birthday,” and Aloy feigns cluelessness. 

“Today’s my birthday?”

Talisah nods eagerly, scooting closer on her knees to crowd against Aloy. “Mama said.”

Aloy shifts to sit upright, pretending to ponder that for a moment. “Well. If mama said that, it must be true.” She gives the girl a big shrug. “I guess it’s my birthday.”

Satisfied with the concession and clearly raring to move on, Talisah retrieves a leaf of parchment from behind her and all but shoves it into Aloy’s face. “Here. Look!”

Once Aloy gets it held at a more suitable distance, the childlike and colorful pigment markings on the page take shape. Vivid blue sky, dazzling yellow sun (of course). A herd of four-legged machines grazes in a field full of sunflowers and the purple-petaled stems they keep in vases around their home. Among them stand four smiling human figures: three large, one small. 

And even though Aloy’s fairly sure she’s understood the concept, she asks anyway.

“This is so nice, Lis. Did you make it for me?” Talisah nods again, beaming. A few pieces of hair fall astray from her messy little tie-up. Aloy tucks them behind her ear. “Will you tell me about it?”

“It’s Grazers,” Talisah explains, nestling easily into the crook of Aloy’s elbow. She has grown so much, but she feels so warm and still fits just right. A crucial part of the new whole. “And us, petting them.” Of course. Putting her hands on any machine is her absolute favorite thing to do, in spite of Talanah’s cautious concern. “See momma, there’s Aunt Milu—” (she points at the tallest, broadest figure, scribbled in green) “—mama—” (long hair, tied back, holding a bow) “—you—” (red braids and a spear) “ —and me.” 

Her own smaller shape is standing closest to the Grazers, connected to Aloy’s at the hand.

And for the umpteenth time in three years, Aloy thinks of how unfathomable and effortless it is to love and to be loved this fiercely. Throat full of embers, she presses a kiss into Talisah’s silky black hair.

“I love this, little one,” she murmurs. “Is it alright if I keep it with me? In one of my pouches?”

“Yeah!” Talisah replies, puffed up with pride, snuggling closer into Aloy’s side. “Don’t rip it, please.”

“You have my word,” Aloy swears. Then, a thought strikes her. She contemplates the drawing again, trying to find what's missing. “Hey, hold on. What about Aunt Beta?”

Without missing a beat, Talisah points to another figure Aloy hadn’t noticed before—sitting a few paces away from the group in the shade of a boulder. “Got sunburn.”

Incredible. Aloy snorts out loud, imagining how Beta’s face will look when she sees it later. “That sounds about right.”

Talisah looks up at Aloy through her long lashes, expression as hopeful as any three-year-old’s could be. “Good birthday, momma?”

Truth be told, Aloy has celebrated very few of them. She’s only known when it actually is for less than a third of her life, and let it be known to others for an even smaller share. It’s always come and gone as a quiet turn of the world—she’s surrounded herself with people who understand why she prefers that, without needing to ask.

But with Talisah, that changed. She reflects her own contagious joy outwards, with no reason not to. A traditional Carja birthday celebration is her only context, and all comparisons are still simple. If for her, why not for everyone else?

And it still feels uncomfortable to acknowledge for Aloy her importance and worth for its own sake—to separate herself from the role she was given, and the ghost whose footsteps she followed. But the years have helped, and maybe it’s never supposed to be completely comfortable to untangle yourself from what’s laid out behind you. Maybe the point is to keep walking on through the rawness of it, and to keep trying.

Aloy looks down at the watchful child in her arms and tries. 

(She makes trying easy.)

“The best,” Aloy says, and means it. She lays a gentle palm on Talisah’s clean-scrubbed cheek. “Do you remember what the Nora do on their birthdays?” Talisah shakes her head, and her brow furrows in reflexive concentration, ready and eager to devour every new bit of information she is offered. “They spend the whole day celebrating their mothers. Would you like that? Giving mama and me gifts on your birthday?”

“Yes,” Talisah answers without hesitation. Then, less than a heartbeat later, with quiet uncertainty: “Would I still get mine?”

Aloy chuckles, rolling her eyes. Talisah’s life is full of safety and an abundance of affection, spoken and unspoken alike. Aloy would accept nothing less. “Of course you would, girl.”

For a moment, Talisah looks assured. Then she gives Aloy another thoughtful frown, a curious glint lighting her gaze.

“What about Elisabet, today?” she asks, sparking a connection between what she knows and the small ways she’s heard that story told. Someday Aloy will tell her the rest. “Your momma.”

It’s a marvel how smart she is. How quickly she cuts to the center of questions Aloy avoids asking herself. 

There’s an ache that comes with it, now. A flare of awareness—an old emptiness that no amount of longing ever could have filled. 

But where some parts linger empty, others run overfull. That, Aloy has learned, can be its own kind of wholeness. Words from long ago, in a voice that sounds like her own, resound gently into the present—into this world of Elisabet’s vision and Aloy’s fulfillment, the only world Talisah has ever known. 

(I would have wanted—her, to be…)

“I think Elisabet would want us to celebrate by going to see some Grazers.”

Talisah almost quivers with abrupt excitement, eyes wide and sparkling. Her hand slips into Aloy’s, gentle and warm. “Can we? Please?”

“We’ll ask mama.” Aloy gives her a reassuring squeeze. “Is she making breakfast? I hope so. I’m hungry.”

“Maize cakes. With honey and peaches.”

“Our favorite.” Aloy smiles and kisses Talisah’s head again. Then she sets the parchment aside and wraps her little daughter into a tight hug. “Thank you for my gift, Lis. I’m going to look at it all the time.” 

(It’s the truth. She will, and she’ll remember this morning.)

Talisah hugs her back, clinging to the soft-worn linen of Aloy’s shirt and burying her face against her chest. “Love you momma.”

Aloy’s heart swells—in that moment, like always, it’s enough to overwhelm every empty space she has ever felt or begun to forget.

“Wherever you go,” she whispers, a promise she’s made every day since Talisah came red-faced and screaming into this new and hopeful world, “I will follow.”

They lie cuddled close and quiet and content in the sunlight until Talanah calls them for breakfast.

Years and years ago, everything came open for this—this is the future that was worth fighting for.