#they have to pick it up and carry it every day

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

guess who has to be studying for another exam but instead she needs to catch up on this fic? (this girl) little annotations below ⬇️

Or the next. You couldn’t. Every time you picked up one of the stupid boxes, your heart would drop to the pits of hell and your hands would start sweating. You’d shove it back in the drawer like it could disappear if you just ignored it hard enough.

manifest it girlypop

What if it was positive? Then what? The thought of seeing his name pop up on your phone after you blocked him, or worse, hearing her voice if she picked up...you’d rather die. He didn't deserve to know.

i eat up any scenes where she wants nothing to do with him and he barges into her life and finds out all the things he's been missing out? the angst of not being able to go backward in time no matter how much you regret it

You heard that voice in your head, the one that sounded like your mom, at least what you remembered from watching old videos.

i would burst out in tears

Your younger cousin, Topper the bitching backstabber, had been born and raised in Los Angeles before he moved to Figure 8 when he was five. 

i was like why r we bringing up topper's bitch ass here and then i realized it to put in a frame of reference that she couldn't possibly know topper's birth bc he moved to kildare later. i just thought reader needed to put in a quick jab about topper 😭

You weren’t exactly the picture of health. What if you weren’t strong enough? What if something went wrong, and you ended up in a hospital bed, alone, because Rafe sure as fuck wouldn’t be there. It was just you.

i love the spiral of madness. i'm reading (and analyzing) it and i'm so so amazed by how ur structure descends. it flows so smoothly - from one topic to the next - all at a great pace and with a lot of internal turmoil. it builds up to me feeling everything reader feels.

It hit you just how ironic this was. You were sitting here, freaking out about being possibly pregnant, scrolling through nightmare stories about abortion and pregnancy complications, while Lily was talking about a fundraiser for children’s health. Kids. It felt like some twisted repulsive joke the universe was playing on you.

ugh, i love the parallels between her being (potentially) pregnant and the idea that she has to wrap her life around this foundation for children.

The fucking nerve. To your gala. Your blood boiled instantly, your fingers gripping the phone so tight you almost cracked the screen.

i love her i feel like she inches closer to insanity every day and i, too, feel the same

If Rafe wanted to play games, you’d ruin his life if you had to. He thought he could fuck you over, leave you with all this—leave you with nothing? No. You weren’t going to let him have that power.

like i said

You were shaking now, but it almost felt good. Even if it was just a stupid guest list. Let him find out when he got there and there was no table for him. No seat. No fucking room. 

BABES 😭 YOU'RE CARRYING HIS CHILD oh this is too good, the idea that she wants to erase him from her life and leave no space for him (mind), but her body is accommodating spacefor his child, making her reserve a permanent space for him in her life

Every year. He’d sit with you while you struggled through every word, telling you it was okay to take your time, reminding you that you didn’t have to do it if you didn’t want to. And when the gala came, he was always by your side, standing just off stage, waiting for you after the speech was done. You’d run into his arms, and he’d whisper that you 'did great baby', holding you until the room stopped spinning so much.

i fear i would crash out if i am currently stressed with the idea of being pregnant and remembering my ex bf and remembering my lost parents

If he thought you were weak, if he thought he could break you, if he thought you were the same girl who used to cling to him like he was the only thing keeping you together—he was wrong.You were going to do this without him.

my boss baby!!!

There was a sigh on the other end, the sound of him trying to not to lose his patentience, like he was the one in the right here. Typical Topper. Always wanting to smooth things over, play peacemaker between you and Rafe, like this was just another fight you’d get over.

topper, in the words of reader, a bitching BACKSTABBER

“Maybe what? That he could swoop in and save the day?” You let out a bitter laugh. “He’s not your golden boy, Top. He doesn’t fix anything. He ruins things.”

ugh i love ur dialogues sosososo much

You were having a meltdown, and he’d stepped in, like he always did when you went off the rails. That was the problem with him—he cared, even when you didn’t want him to. He was family, the only family you had left, and he was too loyal for his own good.

so fuck his parents then ig

You sat down, staring at the stick in your hand. This was insane. You were insane. Who the fuck took a pregnancy test ten minutes before they’re supposed to host a charity gala? 

apparently me

There it was.

+

💌 — aaaaaaaaaa, i'm so glad i waited until after my exam to read this and truly experience the gift of ur writing. i love the juxtaposition and parallels in this scene! especially with her deleting rafe from the gala's list, erasing space from him in her life, but having his child grow inside of her. i love love how she has to have a gala for children—and crippling over the current dilemma of whether she has a child herself. and i love that she's very isolated in a sense, because it amplifies how this child can truly make or break her. topper was so enjoyable—especially their conversation. u always write dialogues so smoothly!! honestly, i thought this scene would end with rafe showing up unannounced at the gala, haha but ig we'll see in next chapter

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - TWO

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of possible pregnancy, of abortion, of pregnancy risks & death. self-loathing. chapter one

You lied.

You didn’t take the tests the next day.

Or the next. You couldn’t. Every time you picked up one of the stupid boxes, your heart would drop to the pits of hell and your hands would start sweating. You’d shove it back in the drawer like it could disappear if you just ignored it hard enough.

Once you knew, you knew. 

There was no more pretending as if nothing happened.

No more pretending like you didn't care that Rafe moved on like he didn’t just dump you, with no real closure and ran to the next girl he found. 

Fuck, why did he have to look so happy that night? He got to be carefree, living his perfect little life with her, and you were there, sitting on the bathroom floor, too scared to even pee on a stick.

What if it was positive? Then what? The thought of seeing his name pop up on your phone after you blocked him, or worse, hearing her voice if she picked up...you’d rather die. He didn't deserve to know.

He didn't deserve anything from you anymore.

You started googling abortion clinics before you even touched the tests. You could afford it. That wasn’t even the issue.

You had more money than you knew what to do with. Your inheritance was just sitting there. You could book a flight tomorrow, pay for whatever procedure, whatever it took—fly out of state, out of the country, if you had to. 

But that wasn’t the point. It has never been about the money. It was the overwhelming shame. The fear. The realization that Rafe might have left you, but he was still there, stuck in your head, in your body, in your fucking life. Even when he wasn’t.  

He didn’t have to worry about any of this. He was most likely out on the boat, not even thinking about you. Not thinking about what he did to you. 

And you— you were left with this. Sitting on a bathroom floor for hours a day, trying to figure out how you were supposed to make a decision that changed everything.

You started looking up clinics again, scrolling through the options, but your mind was barely even there. It was legal in North Carolina for now, but you read something about the 12-week ban they passed in June, and suddenly you were spiraling one more time, wondering how much time you even had. 

Could you wait? Could you put it off like you’d been putting off the tests, like if you waited long enough, maybe the problem would just... disappear? Shit, wouldn’t that be easier?

You heard that voice in your head, the one that sounded like your mom, at least what you remembered from watching old videos.

It was depressing how life didn’t let you hold tightly to your memories sometimes. She always reminded you of the kind of person you were supposed to be. The type of girl who had her shit together. The type of girl who didn’t get herself into situations like this, in the first place.

But instead, you were the girl who lost everything—the life you were supposed to have—and somehow, you’d still found a way to screw up what was left.

You kept scrolling like you couldn’t stop.

One page led to another, and soon you weren’t just looking up clinics—you were looking up everything. 

What happened during the procedure, how long it took, the side effects, the complications. You read horror stories about infections, about women who thought it was over and then bled for weeks, about people who changed their minds too late.

You even looked up what could happen if you didn’t get an abortion—what pregnancy could do to your body. And that was a whole other rabbit hole you didn’t need to go down. Your body changing, your hormones going insane. You thought about your boobs getting sore, your stomach stretching, the possibility of throwing up every morning, and it felt like your body was already betraying you. And then you read the serious stuff—gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, all these words you didn’t even know existed before that night. There was a minefield of things that could go wrong, things that would go wrong.

Complications. Risks. Dangers.

You read about women who almost died in labor. About miscarriages and stillbirths and the trauma of carrying a baby for months, only to lose it. You never even thought about that, how pregnancy wasn’t just this smooth, magical process people make it out to be. It was brutal. But you’d been the little sister, you never saw your mother go through it, or anyone for that matter.

Your younger cousin, Topper the bitching backstabber, had been born and raised in Los Angeles before he moved to Figure 8 when he was five. 

You were terrified—not just of being pregnant, but of what it meant to stay pregnant. Would your body even handle it? You’d always lived off coffee and takeout half the time. An unreasonable amout of parties. Too many drinks some nights.

You weren’t exactly the picture of health. What if you weren’t strong enough? What if something went wrong, and you ended up in a hospital bed, alone, because Rafe sure as fuck wouldn’t be there. It was just you.

For a second there, you thought you might pass out.

You’d thrown your phone across the room, it hit the wall with a thud, but it didn’t help. The anxiety was still there, vibrating under your skin, making you want to scream. You glanced at the bathroom drawer again, where the pregnancy tests were hidden like some cursed thing.

Maybe you should’ve just taken one.

Rip off the bandaid.

The stupid phone rang, like was having fun pissing you off, vibrating on the floor where you’d thrown it. You stared at it for a second, debating if you should even pick it up. You didn’t feel like dealing with anyone, especially not whoever was about to ask something from you.

But it kept ringing, and of course, it was a number you recognized—Lily, one of the coordinators from your dad’s foundation. Shit. You forgot about the gala. Again. The one that was happening in two freaking days, the one you haven’t even thought about preparing for.

You swiped to answer, “Yeah?”

“Hey, I didn’t want to bother you, but we need to go over the final details for the gala,” She greeted you, sounding way too perky for how you were feeling. “I really need your input on the seating arrangements, and the auction items, and—”

It hit you just how ironic this was. You were sitting here, freaking out about being possibly pregnant, scrolling through nightmare stories about abortion and pregnancy complications, while Lily was talking about a fundraiser for children’s health. Kids. It felt like some twisted repulsive joke the universe was playing on you.

You blinked back into the conversation, realizing she still talking, and you hadn’t said a word. “Uh, yeah, sorry. I’ve been busy. Can you just handle it?” you muttered, feeling guilty but not enough to actually deal with any of it.

“I’ve already taken care of most things,” she said carefully, “but we really need your approval on the final guest list and the speech. You’re the face of the foundation, after all.”

The face of the foundation. The legacy your dad left you. It was supposed to be this huge responsibility. And it was. You’d always taken it seriously. The one thing in your life you never ruined. But this year, you hadn’t written the speech yet. Jesus, you forgot it was even happening. And the guest list? No clue.

You rubbed your forehead, “I’ll look at it later. Just send it over.”

Lily hesitated again, probably sensing that something was off, you'd always been a control freak. “Okay, I’ll email it to you. Just let me know by tomorrow, alright?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You hung up before she could add anything else, staring at the ceiling. One more thing. One more responsibility piled on top of everything else. You were drowning in all these expectations—being the good daughter to dead parents, the responsible one, the perfect kook girl who was supposed to have everything. You were supposed to be the girl who had the trust fund, the perfect life, the foundation that helped kids in need.

You earned to be her.

Your phone buzzed again, this time with an email notification. You rolled your eyes, already knowing it was from Lily. She’d sent over the guest list, and you groaned, thinking you’d skim it, give it a half-assed glance, and send it back. But as you scrolled down the names, you stopped.

Rafe Cameron.

Of course, he was going to be there. Why wouldn’t he? His family had been involved in your dad’s foundation for years. It was like you couldn’t escape him.

The fucking nerve. To your gala. Your blood boiled instantly, your fingers gripping the phone so tight you almost cracked the screen.

Fuck him. 

If he thought he could just show up and rub his new life in your face, he had another thing coming. Without thinking twice, you deleted his name, erasing him like he didn’t even exist. And then, without checking another name, you sent the list back to Lily.

You didn’t give a shit if it was petty. You didn’t care if it wasn’t professional.

If Rafe wanted to play games, you’d ruin his life if you had to. He thought he could fuck you over, leave you with all this—leave you with nothing? No. You weren’t going to let him have that power.

Not over this. Not over you.

You were shaking now, but it almost felt good. Even if it was just a stupid guest list. Let him find out when he got there and there was no table for him. No seat. No fucking room. 

You still sat there staring at the screen with that stupid blinking cursor. The email from Lily sat open in front of you, and somewhere buried in the list of attachments was the speech. Blank.

Your speech—the one you were supposed to read at the gala in two days. The one you hadn’t even started writing.

This was always the hardest part. Writing it. Saying it. You used to cry every time. Standing in front of all those people, talking about your dad, your family, how the foundation was this beautiful way of keeping their memory alive. It was never just a speech—it was like ripping your heart out of your chest and letting everyone see it, year after year. It never got easier.

But Rafe, used to be there with you.

Every year. He’d sit with you while you struggled through every word, telling you it was okay to take your time, reminding you that you didn’t have to do it if you didn’t want to. And when the gala came, he was always by your side, standing just off stage, waiting for you after the speech was done. You’d run into his arms, and he’d whisper that you 'did great baby', holding you until the room stopped spinning so much.

You could still hear his voice in your head sometimes, 'you’re stronger than you think'.

That’s what he always said, even when you didn’t believe it. He’d hold you, kiss your forehead, and make you feel like it was true, like you really could get through it. He was always so sure of you. But this year? He wasn’t going to be there. He’d stop believing the lies he fed you. You were angry. You were seething. You were utterly alone.

You’d been avoiding this moment—writing.

This time around, it wasn’t just about the speech. It was about the fact that when you walked out of that stage, you wouldn’t have him waiting for you.

You’d step down into nothingness, with no one to catch you.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, but they wouldn’t move. What were you even supposed to say this year? How were you supposed to stand up in front of all those people and talk about love and family and legacy when yours was shattered?

You hated looking at yourself in the mirror, feeling like you’d lost every single piece of who you used to be.

Fuck the speech. Fuck the gala. Fuck Rafe Cameron and his stupid lies, his stupid smile, his stupid promises that he never kept.  

If he thought you were weak, if he thought he could break you, if he thought you were the same girl who used to cling to him like he was the only thing keeping you together—he was wrong.

You were going to do this without him.

You were going to stand up there and give that speech, no matter how much it hurt. And if it killed you, so be it. You’d still do it.

Because unlike him, you didn’t just walk away from the things that mattered. Even if it tore you apart. Even if it was killing you to keep pretending like you were fine. You weren’t fine. But you’d fake it. You’d fake it until the whole world believed it. 

You’d barely hit send on the email when your phone rang again, and this time it wasn’t Lily.

It was Topper. You hadn’t talked to him since that night—the night. The party where you’d found out, where you’d seen Rafe and Sofia together for the first time. Where you realized that everyone knew.

How he’d called Rafe over, like you needed him to fix it, like he was still yours to rely on.

“What?”

“Hey…” Topper’s voice was cautious, “I, uh, I wanted to call and apologize for the other night.”

You snorted, leaning your head back against the wall. “Yeah? For what part? For calling Rafe like his little bitch or for getting in front of my car when I was trying to leave?”

“I didn’t mean to fuck things up. I was just trying to stop you from doing something stupid.”

“Like what?” you snapped. “Leaving the party? Getting out of there before I had to watch him with her for one more second? Yeah, Top, real dumb of me.”

“You almost ran me over,” Topper shot back, his voice rising just a little, like he was offended you hadn’t mentioned that part. “Kinda felt like maybe you weren’t thinking straight.”

“You jumped in front of the car you fucking idiot. What the hell did you expect me to do? Slam on the brakes and listen to whatever bullshit you and Rafe had to say? Because trust me, ’m all out of patience for either of you.”

There was a sigh on the other end, the sound of him trying to not to lose his patentience, like he was the one in the right here. Typical Topper. Always wanting to smooth things over, play peacemaker between you and Rafe, like this was just another fight you’d get over.

He never really got it.

“Look,” Your cousin started, calmer this time, “I didn’t mean to call him. I just thought—”

“You always think calling him will fix things,” you cut in, “Like he’s the answer to every problem I have. He’s not. Not anymore.”

“I get that,” He added quickly, like he was afraid you’d hang up. “But I didn’t know what else to do! You were upset, and I thought maybe—”

“Maybe what? That he could swoop in and save the day?” You let out a bitter laugh. “He’s not your golden boy, Top. He doesn’t fix anything. He ruins things.”

Topper went quiet for a second, probably trying to figure out how to respond without setting you off on an angry rant again. “I get it,” he said finally, “You’re pissed at him. You have every right to be. But I didn’t call him to hurt you, okay? I was worried about you.”

You hated how genuine he sounded, hated that he meant well. He was a nuisance half of the time, sure, but he wasn’t malicious. He never was. He just had terrible judgment. 

“Next time, don’t,” you muttered, rubbing a hand over your face. “I don’t need you playing little brother and calling him when things go wrong."

“I wasn’t trying to clean anything up,” Topper explained, a little defensive now. “I just didn’t want you driving like that. You were upset.”

You rolled your eyes. “Upset doesn’t mean I need you or Rafe deciding what’s best for me. I’m not a kid.”

“You’re not,” he agreed, “But you weren’t exactly in a great headspace, so yeah, I stopped you. I wasn’t gonna let you leave like that and end up in a ditch somewhere.”

It hurt like a bitch, because deep down, you knew Topper had a point.

You were having a meltdown, and he’d stepped in, like he always did when you went off the rails. That was the problem with him—he cared, even when you didn’t want him to. He was family, the only family you had left, and he was too loyal for his own good.

“You could’ve told me,” you confessed what had been upsetting you, your voice losing some of its initial attitude. “About them. Instead of letting me walk into that party blind.”

Topper sighed again, “I should’ve,” he admitted. “I didn’t want you to find out like that. But it wasn’t my place to say anything. And I didn’t want to make things worse.”

Your hand instinctively moved to cup your stomach. You didn’t even realize you were doing it at first, but the second your fingers touched your shirt, the earlier panic welled up inside you again. If he only knew how bad things were. How bad they could get. You yanked your hand away like you’d been burned, heart hammering against your ribs most painfully. There was no way you could even begin to explain what was going on inside your head—or your body.

Not to Topper. Not to anyone. If he knew, he’d freak and you didn’t need that right now.

You clenched your jaw, pushing yourself to focus on the conversation, on Topper still yammering on about apologies and guilt You shook your head, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. 

“Are you even listening?”

“Unfortunately,” You sounded apathetic even to yourself, fingers tapping against the phone, agitated. “Look, Top, I don’t have time for this right now. I’m busy.”

He sighed. “I know you’re pissed, okay? I get it. But the gala’s in, like, two days. You... you still going, right?”

“Of course I’m going,” you scowled, barely able to hide the bitterness in your voice. “I have to. It’s not like I can just dip out and pretend it’s not happening.”

Unlike some people, you thought, but you bit your tongue.

“Good, because I’ll be there too. And I—”

“Oh, joy,” you interrupted, “Another chance for you to babysit me and make sure I don’t make a scene? Can’t wait.”

“Jesus, I’m just trying to help!” Topper groaned. “I didn’t want to make things worse the other night. I—”

“Yeah. Whatever, I’ll see you at the gala.”

You hung up. You didn’t have the patience to deal with him right now. 

The day of the gala came faster than you thought it would.

It was like you blinked, and suddenly, you were standing in the middle of the venue, walking through final checks with Lily, nodding along as she rattled off details you barely absorbed.

The room was all glitz and glamour, with chandeliers dripping from the ceiling, and everything draped in the foundation’s signature gold and white. 

Crisp tablecloths. Flowers in perfect, elegant arrangements. Waiters in black-tie uniforms were circulating, making sure everything looked flawless. Flawless.

That word made you want to gag.

You moved through the space like a ghost, smiling at the right moments, giving half-hearted approvals when needed.  You didn’t care. People were running around, asking for your opinion on this or that. You’d stayed at the venue longer than planned, making sure everything was in order, but your mind was stuck in that floating-place. You wanted to burn the whole thing down, if you were being honest.

You should’ve called your doctor. Days ago. Hell, maybe weeks ago.

Making smart choices wasn’t your thing lately, was it?

When you finally slipped into the room where they’d set up your glam team, you just wanted to sleep. The room itself was a suite off to the side of the venue, a private space meant to make you feel like royalty.

A massive mirror ran across one wall, surrounded by soft, glowing lights. A table was set up with everything—hair tools, makeup brushes, palettes, serums. Bottles of champagne sat chilled in the corner, the condensation dripping down the glass, untouched. It was the kind of place you were supposed to feel special in.

Normally you did. But this year you were numb.

The stylist worked quietly on your hair, soft curls falling into place as she tugged and pinned each section with meticulous care. The makeup artist was dabbing foundation onto your skin, blending and contouring until you didn’t even recognize yourself in the mirror. The dress hung behind you, a shimmering white gown, custom-designed by Versace for the occasion.

You looked like you were stepping into one of those perfect, glamorous lives. But on the inside, you felt like you were going to lose it at any second. You nodded along, giving tight-lipped smiles when they complimented you, and then they finally left.

The room was dead silent now, just you and your reflection. You stood in front of the mirror, staring at yourself, the perfect curls, the glowy skin, the gown waiting behind you. It all felt wrong. It felt fake. You didn’t bear a resemblance to yourself.

You looked like the version of you that the world expected—the untouchable girl. A doll.

Your rifled through your bag for your phone, but instead, your fingers brushed something else. Cold, hard. 

You hadn’t even realized it was in there.

One of the pregnancy tests. You must’ve thrown it in without thinking earlier that morning when you were rushing out the door. You hadn’t even noticed it until now.

What the fuck were you doing?

You had a gala to host in less than an hour. People were going to be looking at you, waiting for you to give the speech, expecting you to hold everything together like always. And there you were, standing in a private dressing room, about to do something so monumentally stupid. Maybe it was the pressure of tonight, or maybe it was the anger you’d been shoving down for weeks, but suddenly, you didn’t care.

You were going to do it.

Without even thinking, you stormed into the bathroom. You were so fucking tired of avoiding this. Tired of pretending like everything was fine, like you were fine.

What the hell was fine about any of this? You tore open the box, hands trembling as you pulled out the test. The room was so quiet, you could hear every little sound—your breath still uneven, the rustle of your dress against the tiles, the click of the test cap as you flicked it off.

You sat down, staring at the stick in your hand. This was insane. You were insane. Who the fuck took a pregnancy test ten minutes before they’re supposed to host a charity gala? 

You couldn’t get a proper breath out as you waited, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might rip your chest open. You leaned against the sink, gripping the edge. Your stomach churned, the nausea rising again, and you had to close your eyes to stop the floor from spinning.

What if it was positive? What if it wasn’t?

You stared at the test, willing the result to appear, but it didn’t. Not yet. The little window stayed blank, as if taunting you, making you feel like you were losing your mind. You knew you had to wait longer. You weren’t stupid. You’d read those instructions a million times by now, but you hated waiting.

Hated not knowing.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the stupid little piece of plastic. Just one line or two. That was all it came down to. One fucking line or two, and your entire life would either fall apart or what? Be fine?

You glanced at the mirror, catching another glimpse of yourself, and it almost startled you—your eyes were wild. Desperate. They were the eyes of someone who was just about ready to do anything to get this over with. 

You tried to picture telling him again, but the idea alone made you sick. You thought of Sofia, of her perfect smile next to his, and bile rose in your throat. Your hands never stopped shaking. You wanted to run. You wanted to throw that thing in the garbage can and never stare at it again.

Your thoughts spun in circles, going nowhere, just making everything worse. The clock on your phone ticked louder and louder, and you knew—somewhere out there, everyone was getting ready. Guests were arriving. The gala would start soon, and they’d all be waiting for you. Watching you. Expecting you to be the poised, perfect version of yourself you’d spent your whole life pretending to be.

And you were in here, trying not to lose your fucking mind.

You peeked back at it. Still nothing.

No line. No answer.

It felt like you were suspended in time. You closed your eyes, gripping the sink harder, praying for it to end—something to happen, anything.

Then finally, you felt it in your chest—a heavy, sinking feeling, like the moment before a fall.

You opened your eyes. 

There it was.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbbyy @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[crescenthistory]

Where Padfoot Lays His Head

Summary: Inspired by @thewriterghost's reblog of my last animagus!reader fic, this is just a sweet drabble of Whiskers comforting Padfoot:,)

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, your marauders/animagus name is whiskers, walburga black, black family dynamics and trauma, vaguely implied abuse, sirius spiraling into self-loathing, platonic physical affection, romantic!regulus x reader but platonic!sirius x reader is the main focus, background platonic!moonwater

Note: this is based on the same reader from Feline Touches, Sweet Like Honey and Padfoot vs. Whiskers, sirius' beloved almost-sister-in-law that he has frequent (loving) sibling squabbles with

Sirius pretended he didn’t feel the humiliation burning through his veins from his friends’ worrying looks.

Stop looking at me, stop caring so sodding much.

His internal begging was all for naught; this was apparently what he signed up for when he strolled into the train compartment that housed the largest smile Hogwarts had ever seen and his pack of make-shift slightly-fucked-up-but-lovable friends.

Most days, Sirius was grateful to the bone for the family he had been able to assemble at Hogwarts, stretching from his boyfriend to his boyfriend’s childhood best friend to his biological brother and the boys that became his brothers. However, on days that Walburga Black, the hag to end all hags, sends him a Howler berating him for leaving home over the summer, few sentiments besides anger, self-loathing and isolation remained in the young boy’s body.

When he eventually stops reeling and wallowing, all this attention would make him feel warm once more, especially when he sees they didn’t stop showering him in it even as he retreated perhaps a bit rudely from it. Right now, though, it just kept the wound open and Sirius was sure the infection would kill him this time around.

He was sure of that every time.

It became evident quickly that he would not be able to get away from his friends. James was practically glued to his side from the moment he left the Great Hall after Walburga ruined everyone’s lunch. His brown eyes were so wide beneath his glasses and Sirius was sure he could almost see tears in them as he swung his arm around Sirius’ shoulders and kept telling jokes like his life depended on it. Remus was not much better. He had learned by now not to soften his touches when Sirius was in these moods – on the contrary, harsh, direct touches helped ground him – but his hands rarely left his being, as if he would fall apart without him. Even Lily tuned down her playful banter with him, swapping it for concerned questions and checking in on him throughout the day. Sirius loved them all, but he hated it.

Even Regulus showed him more compassion than normal, though he didn’t say much. His entire being seemed to radiate I get you, I understand more than anyone, because frankly he did. Even as hearing Walburga’s voice must have rattled Regulus too, he didn’t show it, instead holding space for Sirius, carrying what was supposed to be his burden.

Humiliating. 

All of which to say, Sirius did what Sirius does best; he ran from them all, in the one form none of them would be able to hold a conversation with him in.

Padfoot had turned out to be a blessing that way. Sirius picked up on it from you, who only ever was in your animagus form when you felt particularly well or horrifically poorly. Difficult to ask how a dog is feeling, yeah? 

He laid in front of the common room fireplace, stretched out in a position that showed he was ready to pounce should anyone try to pet him. Around him, his friends were cuddled up on the sofas and armchairs, chattering lowly amongst themselves and playing the occasional game of wizarding chess. Padfoot had his head placed on his front paws as his gaze flickered all over the room, unable to settle. His nerves always seemed to transform with him, manifesting as the most anxious dog Gryffindor had seen.

Their stares were still on him, penetrating and with downturned frowns over their faces. Stop it, stop it, stop it. He couldn’t string too long sentences together in his dog brain – part of its fantastic appeal right now – but that sentiment remained steadfast.

You were sat in Regulus’ lap opposite the fireplace, murmuring something in his ear as you both intermittently looked at Padfoot. Your hands were playing with his hair, lips almost grazing his skin as you talked, even pressing the occasional kiss to his cheek, his jaw, his ear. Love. Padfoot loved love and he loved his little brother getting to experience it so wholly, even as he laid here, destroying the moment with the same misery that hunted any children raised by the Black family. He felt as if he was sucking the joy out of the room with his wallowing, yet he couldn’t stop himself.

Padfoot couldn’t help the low whine that escaped him at the darkness swirling around inside him. Upon fearing having to meet the gazes of anyone who caught the noise and see the goddamn sympathy and pity in them, he brought his paws up to cover his eyes, pathetically hiding within himself.

Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

In his internal chanting, he didn’t notice when the chatter died down a bit, nor did he see the glances exchanged. He felt the footsteps reverberating through the floorboards, suggesting somebody was walking away, but he didn’t register its true implications. Leave, was all he could think. Good, leave. Go.

What he did notice to its fullest extent was when a few moments later, soft fur collided with his own as something was rubbing against him.

A bit too quickly, almost too violently, Padfoot’s head snapped up from beneath his paws to see what this intrusion was – only to come face to face with a white-and-grey cat, blinking slowly at him. His mouth fell slightly open, and he thought a complaining bark may be on its way out, but then you – Whiskers – butted your head against the side of his neck, caressing him with your feline body.

The adventures of Whiskers and Padfoot were a running joke, especially one Remus and Regulus loved to team up to tell. Whether it was chasing each other around, hunting rats – preferably Wormtail, but any would do – and mice or playing with the house elves, you two loved to conduct mischief together in the one form you could never be properly caught in. There had been the occasion where you cuddle or pet one another, but it was rare and usually unspoken, attachment growing deeper and softer without either properly addressing it. 

So, this was not necessarily out of left field, but it surprised him nonetheless. He couldn’t say it wasn’t quite welcome, though.

You had started purring as you walked up and down his body where he was laid in front of the fire, soaking up the warmth he was bathed in and oddly calming the vibrating nerves within his own body. Whenever you reached his head, you bumped your snout against his, rubbing the space between your ears all over his face.

Cats are weird, Padfoot thought. Like it.

Mere minutes ago Sirius had been surveying his friends and his effect on them intently, digging himself deeper into his self-inflicted hole. Now, his attention was captured by the much smaller animal beside him, and he didn’t see how most conversation had stopped to witness the interaction. Lily and James looked at them in almost shocked awe, both having been snapped at and ran away from when they attempted to pet Padfoot themselves. Regulus and Remus, however, sat there with soft, knowing smiles – seeing the girl they loved most go for it with no fear and comforting their favourite dog. Remus would deny it to anyone who asked, but there were tears in his eyes.

The next time Whiskers came up beside his face, you stayed there, leaning yours against his. You laid your body down over the paws Padfoot had previously rested his own head on and made yourself comfortable in a position no one but a cat could possibly conjure up. From there, you began cleaning his fur like you were his personally-assigned cat mother, licking the strands in their correct direction. When his face was too far away, you lightly brought your paw up to his snout to bring him further towards you.

Despite being placed in front of a fire, warmth didn’t truly spread through Sirius before now. When he brought his head down, he laid it on top of you and let it rest there across your midsection, careful not to hurt you, as your upper body curled around his head. You continued cleaning up his fur as you purred loudly, easing the tension from Padfoot’s poor body.

A cuddle only animals could come up with, an embrace Sirius would deny anyone today, yet like this, it just worked.

When his eyes became heavy, Sirius let them fall. You continued your ministrations without hesitation, carefully and slowly tending to Sirius face, only stopping occasionally to nuzzle your forehead further into his fur and purr even louder. 

He didn’t quite fall asleep, he rarely did as Padfoot, too alert and awake in this form, but he let himself fall into a place of tranquillity. Walburga’s harsh words seemed almost funny in their anger now, and Sirius’ own spiral was becoming a thing of the past. 

Would he still be red-cheeked tomorrow and avoid his friends’ eyes for the first half of the day? Perhaps, but they would reel him into their arms and hearts regardless. Would he sputter and fall back into his evil cycle of thoughts if anyone brought this specific moment up? Without a doubt, but that’s why they would not, at least not before he settled. 

Padfoot was suddenly safe in the Gryffindor common room. He was safe with this warm weight over his paws and beneath his head, he was safe with love being quite literally carded into every strand of fur on his body. He was safe with the hearth behind him and his pack in front of him, quiet voices further lolling him further into a state of peace.

Padfoot was safe – maybe even loved.

Across the room, Remus and Regulus had gravitated further towards one another, as theirs were the only eyes who never left the scene of cat-dog-solidarity displayed before them. 

Regulus bumped into Remus’ arm with his elbow and whispered, “He doesn’t like cats, he says?” with a knowing smirk.

The other boy huffed a laugh at that, lips remaining softly upturned. “I believe he has an exception or two to that rule.”

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

𝕃𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖

Chapter one:

Summary: Y/N meets Nabi.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Good morning, welcome to Megaversé Café. I'm Y/n. How can I help you today?” Y/n asked politely, her tone warm as she greeted the man standing in front of her. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than usual—he was undeniably handsome. His striking black hair was perfectly styled, and his outfit was sharp and carefully put together. His presence was commanding, like he carried a weight of authority wherever he went.

Y/n’s omega instincts tingled at the powerful aura he radiated, and when his scent hit her nose, it made her pulse quicken. It was the scent of an Alpha, one that could make any omega instinctively feel both drawn to him and slightly intimidated. She swallowed, trying to remain composed, but she couldn’t deny how her body subtly reacted to him, her instincts urging her to be cautious yet respectful.

“Umm… hello,” he spoke softly, his voice calm yet full of purpose. “I heard you run a daycare here? Is that true?” He flashed a polite smile, his eyes briefly roving over Y/n’s face. She was quite beautiful, he noticed, though something about her also felt… different. There was a vulnerability there, one that intrigued him.

“Oh right, yes, we do, sir,” Y/n answered, her smile widening as she relaxed a little. “Are you interested in the program?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “My mates and I are looking to enroll our pups.” He paused, searching her face for any signs of judgment or surprise. “Is that possible?”

“Of course, sir,” Y/n said eagerly. “You’re in the right place. If you just follow me, I can introduce you to the person in charge of that area.” She gestured toward the door on the opposite side of the counter.

The man, who introduced himself as Chan, gave a small nod of approval and followed her closely. Y/n couldn’t help but notice how attentive he was to his surroundings, his eyes sharp and calculating, like he was weighing every detail.

They made their way down a hallway that led to a spacious daycare center, and as Chan entered, he was immediately impressed. The room was bright and inviting, filled with colorful toys, and it felt like the perfect environment for children. He nodded to himself, already picturing his pups playing in this space.

"So," she began, trying to make small talk to ease her nerves. "Do you have any specific requirements for the pups? Anything you'd like to know about our program?"

"No, just... a safe environment," he replied thoughtfully. His gaze swept the hallway as they passed, and Y/n couldn't help but feel his eyes on her, studying her closely. She glanced over her shoulder, catching the faintest hint of a smile on his lips as he continued. "We just want them to be well taken care of."

She pushed open the door to the office, where a young woman with short, spiky hair was typing away at her laptop.

“Right, okay, this is Yenji. She’ll be able to help you with everything,” Y/n introduced him to the woman sitting behind the reception desk.

“Okay, thank you,” Chan said, squinting a little, trying to recall Y/n’s name. “I’m sorry, could you remind me of your name again?”

“Y/n,” she replied quickly with a soft smile. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Chan nodded, but as he turned to face Yenji, something about Y/n lingered in his thoughts. Her scent, her movements… his alpha side immediately picked up that she was an omega. It wasn’t just her scent; it was the way she carried herself, the soft yet polite mannerism. There was no mistaking it.

“Thank you once again, have a good day,” Chan said, offering a polite smile. He waved goodbye, and Y/n returned the gesture, heading back toward the counter.

As she walked away, Chan’s curiosity got the better of him. He turned to Yenji. “Is she an omega?” His voice was low, careful not to make it sound like an interrogation, but the question hung in the air.

Yenji chuckled softly, looking up from her laptop. “We normally can’t disclose that kind of information, sir…” she trailed off, her tone turning conspiratorial. “But yes, she is.”

“Ah, I see,” Chan murmured, nodding in understanding. He felt a small pang of something he couldn’t quite identify at the thought, but he quickly pushed it away.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Yenji said, waving him off. “You’re not the first to ask about her. She’s new around here, and she definitely has an effect on Alphas. But she’s a sweetheart, really.”

“Hmm…” Chan hummed thoughtfully. He was still trying to figure her out, but that would have to wait.

Yenji smiled, shifting gears back to business. “Now, shall we get started?” She gestured toward the chair across from her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Yenji looked up from her laptop, her expression polite but curious. "How can I help you today?"

Chan smiled warmly at her. "I heard you run a daycare for pups. My mates and I were hoping to enroll them."

Yenji raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Of course, we can help you with that. What are their names and ages?"

Just then Nabi’s stroller had just rolled in, and it was Felix, Chan’s mate, who was rushing in with the child.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" Felix's voice echoed as he hurried into the office, his face flushed with stress. "Nabi was having a meltdown, and the twins got into a fight. It’s been a whole morning!"

Chan's expression softened as he stepped forward to help Felix with the stroller. "It’s okay, don’t worry about it." He gently took the baby bag from Felix’s arms, giving him a smile. "You’re here now. That’s what matters."

Felix sighed in relief, looking over at Yenji. "I’m so sorry we’re late. I hope this doesn’t cause too much trouble."

Yenji waved off his concern, giving him a reassuring smile. "Not at all! We were just going over some details."

Chan and felix sat back down, and the conversation shifted to the practicalities of daycare for their pups. Chan, always a man of few words, laid out the details clearly but Felix was the one doing most of the talking.

“We have seven pups in total,” Felix began, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his little ones. “They haven’t presented yet, so for now they’re just regular pups. We were hoping you could take care of them during the day while we run the pack’s village.”

Felix looked at Yenji with a sheepish smile. “Did you tell her who we are?”

“No,” Chan said, leaning back in his chair. “We’ve been trying to keep it low-key, but it’s hard with how well-known our pack is.”

Felix sighed, shaking his head. “You’d be surprised. Some places don’t care who we are. We’ve had a hard time finding a daycare that’ll take this many pups.”

Yenji’s eyes widened in disbelief. “No way. People refuse you? I don’t get it.”

Felix ran his fingers through his hair, looking frustrated. “They don’t know who we are half the time, and even if they do, we’re still rejected. But we’re glad you can help us.”

Yenji blinked, looking up from her notes. “Wait, a village?”

“Yeah, our pack runs a whole village. We’re the SKZ pack.”

“Wait, the SKZ pack?” Yenji gasped, dropping her pen in surprise. Her eyes widened as she looked from Chan to Felix. “I didn’t realize—wow, it’s such an honor to meet you! I’ve heard so much about your pack.”

Chan chuckled softly, clearly accustomed to the reactions his pack’s name stirred. “Yes, that’s us,” he said with a smirk, though his tone remained humble. “But we’re just a regular family. No need for all the fanfare.”

Yenji couldn’t help but smile. “Right, right,” she said, trying to gather herself. “So, about the pups. How old are they?”

Chan ran through the details smoothly. “Eunji is the oldest, seven years old. Then there’s Joon, who’s also seven but a few months younger. The twins, Aera and Hwan, are six. Tae will turn six soon. Chul is four, and Nabi just turned one last month.”

Yenji scribbled down the information, noting every detail. “Okay, and do they have any dietary requirements?”

“Not really. Their other mum is very strict about their diets, but they’re mostly fine with whatever,” Felix said, though he smiled fondly at the thought of his mate’s fussing over their pups’ food. “They’re picky, but nothing unusual.”

“Alright,” Yenji nodded. “Any illnesses we should know about?”

“Not at all,” Felix replied, thinking for a moment. “Well, Joon did break his arm last week playing in the backyard, but it’s nothing serious.”

“A broken arm?” Yenji raised an eyebrow, noting it down. “Okay, does he need any ongoing medication?”

"Hmm…" Felix thought for a moment. "Just a few things. Some painkillers here and there, and… what’s it called, babe?" He turned to the man.

"Intranasal and dietary supplements," Chan answered, smiling a little sheepishly.

"Right," Felix nodded. "That’s about it. Other than that, they’re pretty healthy."

Yenji gave them an understanding look, eager to help in any way she could. "No problem. We can definitely accommodate that."

"Is there anything specific you’d like to ask about the kids? Diapers, snacks, or dietary restrictions?" Felix asked.

Yenji spoke up. "Actually, does Nabi wear diapers?"

"Yes, she does," Felix confirmed, Yenji started jotting something down. "But we always pack extra in her bag. No offense, but I’m a little bit of a control freak when it comes to what diapers she wears. I also prefer if the kids don’t borrow clothes from other children."

"That’s totally understandable," Yenji nodded, not in the least offended. "We’ll make sure to accommodate that. Actually, I’ll reserve some lockers for you to store extra clothes. Just in case they spill something or need a change."

Felix seemed to relax a little at that. "I appreciate it," he said, looking over at Chan who gave him a reassuring nod.

"I have a question," Chan spoke up, still eyeing the room. "What does their schedule look like? I’m also a little concerned about the cafe being so close by… Anyone can just walk in, right?"

Yenji shook her head immediately. "No need to worry about that at all, sir." She smiled warmly, clearly proud of their security measures. "This is just the front office. I’ll take you to the back where the daycare rooms are, and you’ll see—no one gets in without their parent cards."

"Parent cards?" Chan’s brow furrowed, clearly confused.

"Yes, every parent has to have one to get through the door," Yenji explained, gesturing toward a scanner by the back door. "You just swipe your card, and then the system uses facial recognition to verify your identity. You’ll also need to sign in whenever you pick up or drop off your pups."

Felix raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Okay, but let’s say I lose my card, and someone tries to use it. What happens then?"

Yenji chuckled lightly. "They wouldn’t get through because of the facial recognition system, and our security personnel would definitely stop anyone who wasn’t familiar with the kids. We take safety very seriously here."

Felix purred, clearly satisfied with that answer. "Hm, I like this place already."

"I’m glad to hear that," Yenji replied with a smile. She continued, "As for the kids' schedules, it really depends on the day. Most days, they’ll do arts and crafts, reading, and even digital games. The older ones have structured activities like sports, while the younger ones do more normal activities like sensory play or free time."

"Can we get a copy of their schedule?" Felix asked, clearly curious.

"Of course," Yenji said, scribbling down a few notes before handing Felix a sheet of paper. "Also, we need to know who will be picking up the kids. We’ll get cards made for those individuals as well."

Chan spoke up again, organizing the details. "It’ll mostly be the moms—Han and Felix—but some days, Lee Know and Hyunjin might need to pick them up. So, we’d need cards for all eight contacts."

"Eight?" Yenji blinked in surprise.

"Yes, our schedule is complicated. Trust me, it’s easier this way," Chan chuckled.

The conversation shifted to timing after. "Daycare officially runs from 6 a.m. to 12 p.m., but if that doesn’t work for you, we can shift it to 9 a.m. to 3 p.m."

Felix quickly jumped in. "Oh, hyung, can we do the 9 to 3 shift instead? It’ll make it easier for you guys to work in the afternoon, right?"

Chan nodded, thinking it over. "Yeah, I think we’ll go with that."

Yenji jotted down the change. "Got it! We’ll adjust that for you."

As the meeting continued, Felix turned to Yenji with a slight smile. "So, who exactly is in charge of the kids? We just want to make sure they’ll be in good hands."

Yenji smiled back. "Only omegas are in charge of the kids here. We don’t hire alphas, except for security."

Felix let out a relieved sigh. "Thank God. I don’t trust any alphas with my kids unless I’m around."

Yenji smiled, understanding the concern. "I’m a beta, by the way. We’ve got a few of us, but we’re all trained extensively. Your pups will be in great hands."

Felix’s shoulders relaxed at that. "I’m happy to hear that."

"And we have a nurse on staff at all times," Yenji added. "You’ll just need to fill out a medical form. The fee for each pup is 279,640 won."

"Wait, what?" Chan gasped dramatically, earning a playful slap from Felix.

"Hyung, stop it," Felix giggled, swatting him playfully.

Chan pouted. "You omegas are going to make me run broke."

Yenji laughed at their playful exchange. "It gets worse, I’m afraid," she teased.

"Oh God," Chan groaned. "How much more?"

"We can discuss the fees later," Yenji said with a chuckle. "First, let’s finish the campus tour."

Chan grinned. "We’re not buying a new car."

Felix faked a pout. "But baby…"

"Absolutely not unless you’re getting it out of Changbin or I.N's account," Chan teased, looking at Yenji, who couldn’t help but smile at the dynamics of the pack.

Finally, it was time to wrap up the meeting and head for the campus tour. "We can leave Nabi in the stroller while Y/n watches her," Yenji suggested, getting up from the desk. "Don’t worry, she’ll be safe."

Felix’s omega instincts immediately protested. "Uh... Alright, that’s fine," he said reluctantly, but Yenji noticed the concern in his eyes. He didn’t know her, but he didn’t want to leave Nabi with anyone else.

Yenji quickly excused herself to grab Y/n, who was just outside the office. "Do you need me to remove my scent patches?" Y/n asked politely when she entered the room.

"Can you?" Felix asked, his voice soft but firm. "I just don’t want her to get fussy. And please, don’t scent her. I don’t feel comfortable with that."

Y/n gave him an understanding nod. "Of course, I’ll make sure to be gentle with her."

As Chan slowly handed Nabi over to Y/n, he sighed. "God, she’s getting heavy."

"Well, you know how Changbin gets about skinny pups," Felix teased as he adjusted the baby bag.

Y/n carefully cradled Nabi, the little pup settling back to sleep with a small sigh.

Chan, who had been watching all this with a bemused expression, let out a loud huff. "Can we hurry this up? I’ve got a studio session in an hour."

Felix chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. Let’s go."

"Shall we?" Yenji asked, gesturing toward the hallway. "Follow me, I’ll show you where the daycare rooms are. This area is just for the front office, so it’s not where the kids will be spending their time."

Chan and Felix exchanged a look before following Yenji down the hall, their footsteps echoing in the quiet building. The daycare was spacious, with colorful walls and a number of rooms dedicated to various age groups. As they passed a playroom, Chan’s eyes flickered toward it, noticing the well-organized space and the ample toys.

"This place is bigger than I expected," Felix commented, clearly impressed by the setup. "It seems really well organized."

"We take pride in our facilities," Yenji said with a small smile, leading them into the main area. "We’ve got separate rooms for different age groups."

"Sounds like it’s well-thought-out," Chan said, nodding approvingly.

They made their way through the different sections of the daycare, which were full of age-appropriate toys and even small rest areas. There was a quiet, calming atmosphere to the place, and the alphas were reassured that their pups would be safe here. The walls were decorated with happy drawings from other pups, and each room had its own dedicated staff, all of whom were betas or omegas—never alphas. The care here was personal, and it was clear that the staff was well-trained and genuinely cared about the pups.

As they returned to the office, Y/n was sitting on one of the office sofas, rocking the baby gently with one hand while cooing softly at Nabi, who was still tucked under a light blanket.

"Oh, you sweet little thing," Y/n whispered, a soft smile on her face. The little pup stirred slightly but stayed asleep, her small hands curling into tiny fists as she nuzzled deeper into the warmth of her blanket. Y/n’s omega instincts kicked in as she carefully and gently rocked her, murmuring quiet words of comfort. It was almost like an instinct, this bond that formed between omegas and pups. She couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection for the baby in her arms.

Felix and Chan returned, clearly pleased with the daycare’s setup. Chan took one look at the sleeping Nabi in Y/n’s arms and smiled.

"Looks like she likes you," Felix commented softly, walking over to gently lift Nabi out of Y/n’s arms.

Nabi woke up with a small whimper but settled back when she saw Felix, her mother. "I think she really likes you, Y/n," Felix added, chuckling softly as he took his daughter into his arms. "She’s a little attached."

Y/n smiled warmly, her heart fluttering. "She’s just precious," she cooed, watching as Felix carefully adjusted her in his arms.

“She’s so cute, right?”

Y/n smiled at the baby in her arms. “She’s adorable.”

Felix’s voice softened as he chuckled. “She takes after I.N, I think.”

"It was an absolute pleasure working with you both," Yenji said, excited that such a well-known pack would be joining their daycare.

"I’ll be seeing you on Monday then," Y/n added, her smile warm but slightly bittersweet.

"Yes you will," Chan responded pulling out his phone to check a message.

After completing the final bits of paperwork, Chan, Felix, and Yenji exchanged a few more pleasantries, clearly satisfied with their decision to enroll their pups here.

As Chan, who had been watching all this with an amused smile, stood up, he gave them a friendly wave. "Have a good day, guys!" His voice carried a light tone, though his eyes flickered a deep red for just a second.

Y/n blinked in surprise at the brief flash of red in Chan's eyes. It wasn’t something she saw often, but the flicker was enough to make her heart skip a beat.

Chan was more focused on the fact that Y/n’s scent was undeniably strong now. His alpha instincts reacted involuntarily, stirring a sharp, deep craving within him. He quickly averted his gaze, trying to control the pull he felt.

Damn, he thought, swallowing hard. Her scent is so strong…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: This was kinda messy but i just wanted to get the series a start so bare with me.

Taglist: @ihrtlix@bowsnbang@katsukis1wife@thegingerthatwaited@thicccurls

@xxeiraxx @paleangelsweets @klaydohart @eastleighsblog @ivrespace

@galaxy4489 @purplepursepaint @catlove83 @sillystormsstuff @iwuberic

@cocofia143 @royal-shinigami @virluna148 @galaxycatdrawz @memersanonymous

@skz-stay13 @seungminsbest @hogwartslife64 @sinfulfic @hyunnesblog

@maisyyyyyy @cluelessred3 @leezanetheofficial @cocofia143 @lemonn015

@kkamismom12 @mei0packet @igetcarriedawaywithyou @hyuneyeon

taglist: closed :(

[daisies-daydreams]

Full (Kento Nanami x Wife!Reader Drabble)

Pairing: Kento Nanami x Wife!Reader Category: Smut Tags: Heavy Breeding Kink, Unprotected Sex (You Know the Drill), Referenced Multiple Orgasms, Marking, Creampies, Dirty Talk Word Count: 599 Adult Content Banner: @cafekitsune Summary: You feel your sanity begin to slip as your husband fills you for the nth time of the night. A/N: Just something quick I wrote because baby fever is hitting me hard rn 🤐

When you suddenly blurted out that you wanted children at the dinner table, you didn't expect to be nearly folded in half on your king-sized bed, your hole spread wide open by your husband's hot, twitching girth.

"F-Fuck, (Y/N)," Kento panted heavily, his hot breath fanning against the tender hickey on your neck as he snapped his hips forward. Your nails sank even deeper into his rough, muscular back as his tip rigorously kissed your swollen cervix.

You have no idea how long you've been like this - days...hours...time itself seemed to dissipate as his hips eagerly slapped against yours. Your legs twitched as you felt his large hands squeeze the back of your knees, the inside of your plush thighs litters with hickeys and bite marks.

“K-Kento,” you panted, your head spinning from the countless orgasms he’s already given you. Your lower back curved as you felt one of his thick veins massage your g-spot, a surge of pleasure forcing a moan from your swollen lips. Your husband tenderly pressed his forehead against yours, his warm breath fanning across your face as his heavy balls slapped against your slick, puffy folds.

“I’m here, my love. Tell me what you need,” he groaned, a gentle warmth swimming in his two pools of deep hickory. Your toes curled again as his girthy cock rubbed every inch of your velvety walls. You swallowed thickly before parting your lips.

“More, K-Ken. I need more,” you moaned. Your husband’s pace suddenly picked up as his thumbs caressed the sides of your knees. A symphony of your moans and his grunts filled the bedroom as his dick stretched your already well-bred pussy wide open.

“A-Ah, fuck,” he clenched his jaw as he vigorously snapped his hips forward. You could feel the warm, sticky cum from his recent orgasms start to ooze past the seam where your sexes wetly joined. A primal part of you wanted to tell him to slow down, to keep everything inside…but with one final push, you were sent tumbling over the edge.

Your head snapped back as you cried his name, your pussy instantly clamping down on his massive length as your beloved released a guttural growl.

“(Y-Y/N)!” you heard through the thick fog of your pleasure. You gasped as you felt his cock pulse deep inside of you, rope after rope of his thick, hot seed spilling against your gummy cervix. Stars danced across your vision as your walls slowly began to stop clenching, your legs still shaking in his tight grasp as he emptied himself inside of you with a soft grunt.

Both of you were left utterly breathless against the bedsheets, your lower bodies doused in a lewd concoction of your combined juices as the two of you panted heavily.

“I think…that’s good enough for tonight,” you murmured with a tired smile. Nanami’s deep chuckle sent a shiver down your spine as he gingerly pecked your lips. He slowly lowered your legs as the feeling of fullness began to register deep inside your womb. You sucked in a sharp breath when you saw how swollen your lower belly already looked, thoughts of carrying his baby flooding your mind.

“Let’s stay here for now. I’ll clean you up in a little bit,” your husband suddenly whispered as he smoothed his thumb over your cheek. You smiled softly and closed your eyes as he rested against you, his cock still plugging your puffy entrance. You felt him smirk slightly against your skin as he murmured.

“I want to make sure it takes, after all”

༺♥༻

Thank you for reading! ❤️

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[n0vazsq]

Way of the heart | OP81 x Reader

pairing . . . oscar piastri x racing!engineer!reader

summary . . . After a tough race, Oscar has nothing to look forward to more than spending time with (Y/n)

request . . . kind of?

word count . . . 1.1k

warnings . . . none!

alexavia yaps . . . i really hate this one for some reason like its not the best i could do but i wanted to write something so yeah!! the person who wanted this (im sorry i forgot your user), if you want another story i will totally write it!! tysm for asking <3

Oscar slumped into the chair in the back of the team garage, still in his racing suit, the helmet beside him on the floor. Today’s race had been brutal, everything going wrong until he finally crossed the finish line in a place he didn’t even want to remember. No matter how much he tried to forget it, the disappointment still clung to him.

As the crew packed up around him, you walked over, carrying a bottle of water and a quiet look of understanding. You’d worked with Oscar long enough to know when he needed a moment to think and when he needed someone to remind him he wasn’t alone. Today, he needed the latter.

“Rough day,” you said softly, offering him the bottle. He accepted it with a quick nod, cracking it open but not taking a sip.

“Understatement of the year,” he muttered, letting out a short, frustrated sigh. “Everything went wrong, didn’t it? Every call, every turn… feels like I let everyone down out there.”

You didn’t rush to disagree or to tell him it was all fine because you knew Oscar didn't want you to. Instead, you waited a bit, giving him the space to breathe.

“You know, racing’s a lot like life. Sometimes it’s out of our control, even when we do everything right. We all saw you fight today,” you said gently. “One tough race doesn’t define who you are as a driver.”

He glanced up, the frustration in his eyes softening as he met your steady gaze. “Thanks,” he said, managing a faint smile. “Not sure what I’d do without you, honestly.”

You laughed lightly, leaning against the wall beside him. “Lucky for you, I’m sticking around, win or lose.”

His smile widened a little, and after a few moments of quiet, he stood up, finally letting go of some of the weight he’d carried off the track. “Hey,” he said, glancing at his watch, “I know it’s late, but do you want to grab some food? Just… need to be somewhere that’s not here.”

The restaurant he picked was cozy, tucked away from the noise and chaos that followed you on racing weekends. He knew you’d love it, remembering how you mentioned your love for Italian food

When you walked in, his heart skipped a beat. You wore a smile that was both warm and teasing, the one that always seemed to make everything feel a little less overwhelming.

He stood, smiling sheepishly. “Hey, you look… great,” he said, his voice a little unsteady. The nerves of the race had melted away, replaced by a different kind of nervousness that he couldn’t ignore.

You grinned, taking a seat across from him. “Thanks, Piastri. It’s nice to see you in a non-race setting for once. And I have to say, you look pretty good.”

He laughed, glancing down at his simple outfit. “I tried, y’know, for you.”

The waiter took your orders, and as the evening went on, you two spoke about anything and everything but racing. The conversation drifted easily from favorite movies to random childhood memories. You two talked about wild stories and embarassing moments, laughing at every single thing.

But Oscar’s mind kept wandering back to you. How you’d been there every step of his career, how you’d seen him at his worst and still chose to believe in him. At one point, as you were laughing at a joke he’d told, he couldn’t help but stare a little, his heart pounding in a way that felt completely different from the adrenaline of racing.

The laughter quietened down, and a comfortable silence fell between you both. Oscar looked down at his hands, trying to think of what he wanted to say. “You know,” he began, a little quieter now, “you mean a lot to me. More than just… my engineer or friend.”

You looked up, your expression softening, and he felt his courage swell just a bit. “I think I realized that today, after everything went bad on the track. Just seeing you there, not judging me, not telling me what I should’ve done differently, just… being there. It made all the difference.”

You reached across the table, placing your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’d be there no matter what, Oscar. You’re a brilliant driver and a good person. Bad race or not, that doesn’t change.”

His cheeks flushed, a warmth spreading through him. He turned his hand to hold yours, letting the silence speak for itself. And for a moment, all the disappointment and frustration faded, replaced by a quiet joy that he hadn’t expected to feel tonight.

Later, you walked together under the night sky, the cool breeze a welcome contrast to the warm evening inside. He found himself wishing the walk could last forever, just the two of you, away from the chaos of everything.

Eventually, you both settled on a bench with a view of a beautiful fountain. The sound of the water filled the quiet spaces between you, and he reached over, slipping his hand into yours again, holding it with a confidence he hadn’t felt earlier.

“This feels perfect,” you murmured, leaning against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I wish every night could be like this.”

You let out a soft laugh, resting against him. “It’d be easier if we weren’t always at a race or in different cities every other week.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, looking out at the fountain. “But I think… I think it’s worth it.”

You turned to him, your gaze meeting his with a warmth that made his heart race. He took a deep breath, the words he’d been holding back finally finding their way out.

“Do you… maybe want to meet my family? Make it official?” he asked, his voice a little uncertain but hopeful.

You raised your eyebrows, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Oscar, I think we’re already there. You didn’t have to ask. And of course, I'd love to meet your family.”

He chuckled, feeling a weight lift as his heart swelled with happiness. “Then consider this official.” He leaned in, taking your lips in a kiss.

The kiss made butterflies fill your stomach, it was soft, but also made you crave more. It was something magical, like straight out of a movie. Oscar had his hands on your waist, and yours tangled in his hair. It somehow made it more intimate, more personal. You didn't want it to end.

When you finally pulled back, the smile on your face was everything Oscar ever wanted to see.

Hand in hand, you walked back to the car, and for the first time that night, Oscar felt a sense of peace, knowing that no matter what happened on the track, he’d always have you there, his biggest supporter, his steady presence.

And with you by his side, he knew he could face anything that came his way.

[act-nat-ural]

Apologies

@ash0-0ley: Can you write for suna? Angst to fluff please (sorry for my bad english 🤡)

word count: 1013

Rintarou didn’t mean to yell at you, not really. He’d just been so on edge lately, putting in extra hours at practice and pushing himself to his limits as he prepared for the upcoming tournament. Every game felt like it was raising the stakes, and he wanted to be sure he didn’t let anyone down.

But all that stress, all that pressure—it had a way of bleeding out. And you, his favorite person, were unfortunately in his line of fire.

It was supposed to be a quick visit. You had swung by the gym after practice with a snack and a few words of encouragement, hoping to ease his stress. You saw the fatigue in his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. Rintarou had always been calm and collected, but today, he seemed like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Hey, Rin,” you greeted him with a warm smile, holding out the small bag you’d brought. “I thought you could use a little pick-me-up.”

But instead of the soft smile you were used to, he barely even looked at you.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” he snapped, the sharpness in his voice slicing through you like a blade. “I don’t have time for this right now.”

His words hit you harder than they should have, and you flinched. You could feel your face heating up, embarrassment and hurt mixing in your chest. You wanted to say something, to tell him you were just trying to help, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. The look on his face told you enough; he was frustrated, tired, and didn’t want you around.

So, you left. You told yourself it was fine, that he was just stressed and didn’t mean it. But as the days passed, doubt began to creep in. Maybe you were a distraction. Maybe he’d be better off without you around. The more you thought about it, the more you began to wonder if he even wanted you there at all.

So you started to avoid him. You stopped swinging by the gym, stopped texting him as much. When he called, you kept the conversations short. And when he asked if you wanted to meet up, you always had an excuse ready.

Rintarou noticed the change immediately, but he brushed it off at first, thinking you were just busy. But after a few days, it became impossible to ignore. He missed you, missed the comfort of having you around, and every time he saw your name on his phone, his chest ached with guilt. He knew he’d messed up, that he’d hurt you. But he didn’t realize how much until now, when you were slipping further and further away.

One night, after another long, grueling practice, he found himself standing outside your apartment. He had barely thought it through, too tired and too anxious to wait any longer. He raised his hand, hesitating for a moment, before knocking softly.

The sound startled you. It was late, and you hadn’t been expecting anyone. When you opened the door and saw Rintarou standing there, his eyes tired but determined, your heart clenched. You hadn’t seen him in days, and you realized just how much you’d missed him.

“Rin?” you asked, surprised.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his feet. “Hey. Can I…can I come in?”

You nodded, stepping aside to let him in. The silence between you was heavy, and you didn’t know what to say, how to explain why you’d been avoiding him. But before you could even gather your thoughts, he spoke.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet, but there was a rawness to it that caught you off guard. “I’m sorry for the way I snapped at you. I was stressed, but that’s no excuse. You didn’t deserve that.”

You felt your throat tighten, the hurt you’d been pushing down rising to the surface. “It’s okay. I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately.”

He shook his head, his gaze finally meeting yours. “No, it’s not okay. I pushed you away, and I shouldn’t have. I thought that if I focused everything on practice, if I shut out everything else, I’d be able to handle it. But…not having you around just made everything worse.”

You swallowed, feeling a mix of relief and lingering doubt. “I thought…I thought maybe you didn’t want me around anymore. That I was just making things harder for you.”

Rintarou’s eyes widened, and he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to yours. “No. You’re the one thing that makes all of this easier. I…I messed up, and I’m sorry. I need you with me, okay? I don’t want to do this alone.”

His words broke down the walls you’d been building around yourself, and you let out a shaky breath. “I missed you, Rin.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “I missed you too. So much.”

You stayed like that for a while, the tension between you melting away as he held you close. The familiar warmth of his embrace soothed the ache that had been sitting in your chest for days, and you felt the weight of your doubts and fears lifting.

After a few moments, he pulled back slightly, looking down at you with a soft smile. “I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll make time for you, no matter how busy things get. Just…don’t leave me, okay?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I won’t. But you have to let me help, too. You don’t have to do this all on your own.”

He let out a soft chuckle, his eyes crinkling with a mixture of relief and affection. “Yeah. I think I could use that.”

You spent the rest of the night curled up together on the couch, talking quietly about everything and nothing at all. And in that moment, with Rin’s arms wrapped around you and his apologies whispered into your hair, you knew that whatever challenges came your way, you’d face them together.

note: can you tell i'm bad at angst lol

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Sebastian is MC's self appointed spider defense captain,

and other headcanons...

Anytime there’s a spider, Sebastian insists on handling it himself—even if it’s tiny. He’ll scoop it up with exaggerated care, claiming to be saving the day, and expects MC to be impressed every single time despite the fact that MC has fought several acromantulas

He’ll narrate the lives of people in the Great Hall to whoever is sitting nearby, complete with ridiculous backstories and dramatic impressions.

Sebastian probably needs glasses but stubbornly denies it, squinting at the board or subtly leaning over to copy notes from MC. If anyone suggests he might need them, he laughs it off, claiming that it’s just bad handwriting on the board.

Sebastian used to think his curly/wavy hair made him look less serious/imposing, so he tried charming it straight a few times in his earlier years at Hogwarts. Nowadays, he embraces it, but he’s still secretly thrilled whenever someone compliments his curls.

Sebastian keeps little mementos of times spent with MC—pressed flowers, bits of parchment with their notes, anything they might have behind. There's a drawer in his dorm filled with these things, even discarded candy wrappers.

He has a massive soft spot for animals. He’s the type to carry treats in his pockets for the cats around the castle grounds and gives each one a nickname; he can recognize each one from a mile away.

Sebastian secretly borrows MC's novels to read them, just so he can discuss it with them and impress them with his “insight.”

He's a surprisingly good artist; when he’s bored in class, he draws little doodles in the margins of his notes: tiny dragons, his wand, or things he’s daydreaming about (like MC, which he denies).

Sebastian has a habit of finding small “treasures” around Hogwarts or Hogsmeade and giving them to friends. It could be a peculiar rock, a unique feather, or a wildflower he finds.

He has a repertoire of terrible pick-up lines and flirty one-liners he knows will make MC cringe. “Are you a charm? Because I’m under your spell.”

Surprisingly, Sebastian is a good cook. It started as a way to make Anne’s favourite treats, and now he often reads recipe books in his spare time.

When he's alone, Sebastian talks to his parents, sharing his struggles, triumphs, and moments of doubt, hoping they'd be proud.

[burningcheese-merchant]

I NEED MORE BURNED CHEESE CONTENT, could you please feed this poor hungry soul some burning cheese kids? Imagine the SUPER protective burn during Golden's pregnancy, or, or helping her with the children's dough (and already planning the next children)

The kids will be here soon, I promise :( they're at school right now, Spice and Golden have to go pick them up. It won't be too long. (I have something important to do irl and that takes priority. I'm hoping I have time at the end of this week to sit down and try to draw them. Everything else is ready, their characters sheets are done, got their whole lives on lock lol. All that's missing is to put them on paper. I only have about half a gram of artistic talent so I'll really be pushing myself here... but I want you all to see them really badly, so I'm happy to do it haha)

I don't have to imagine anything, I'm already there with you, buddy :') I hc them as already married by the time the kids come along, and yeah... Spice is SUPER overprotective lol. Very, very gentle and doting, but fiercely protective and downright hostile towards literally everyone else as a consequence of that protectiveness. He won't leave her side unless absolutely necessary, and he'll be snapping at whoever forced him to leave her and then rushing back to her as soon as he can. (She feels kind of claustrophobic at times, because he literally becomes her shadow during those 9 months lol.) But really, he's at her beck and call from beginning to end. She's craving something? He gets it for her. She's sore? Hugs and massages and nice baths. She's tired? He carries her to bed and doesn't allow anyone to bother her for any reason for the whole rest of the day. She can't sleep? He's up with her all night, talking to her and soothing her and doing whatever he can to lull her back to sleep because she needs all the rest she can get. He's Peak Husband during this time lol.

(He's just... beyond happy. I also hc this as being after Spice has redeemed himself and been accepted back into society, but still not having 100% let go of his dark past (which he never truly will, you can never fully forget something like that, unfortunately). So really, he takes this as one of the greatest rewards for his change of heart that he's ever gotten, and as a sign that he really has become better. The day Golden came to him and told him she was pregnant was the best day of his whole, entire life. He fell to his knees and cried when she told him. Not only has he managed to forsake his destructive nature and instead create something, but he's engaged in the most profound act of creation there is: he helped create a life. And he created this precious life with the woman he loves, who helped kickstart his journey to redemption in the first place. It just shows how far he's come, you know? From a cruel tyrant to a beloved king to two peoples... from a bloodthirsty psychopath destined to live and die alone to a much more even-tempered man who has atoned for his sins and learned to be a good friend and person again, as well as became a beloved husband and father... still a force for destruction, but now in a positive way, not a negative one. It's been a very long road, but it really feels like he reached the end, and this victory is sweeter than any he's had before.)

...And same thing if they're cookies, honestly lol. Peak Husband. Burning Sweetheart Cookie here, jumping for joy when Golden tells him she wants a child. He goes hunting for a Witch Oven of his own accord, going to quite literally every corner of the earth until he finds one, then they go to it and he's just like a kid on Christmas Day lol. They're making the batter together and he's just grinning that big, pointy grin he's got, beaming like the sun. How much of his dough should they mix in? How much of hers? What will happen, what sort of child will they create? Golden thinks he's so cute lol. He won't even sit still while the kid is baking in the oven; if he's not pacing back and forth in anticipation, he's picking Golden up and swinging her around and smothering her with kisses, and going on and on and on about how great the kid will be and how they'll be a fine warrior just like him and Golden. He's yanking the oven door open as soon as that timer goes off and they both hear crying... she has to tell him to slow down so they can both take the baby out together (he was so excited that he was just going to do it by himself lol)

TL;DR: The woobification of Burning Spice Cookie on this blog is complete, he is now Burning Sweetheart Cookie, reformed villain who loves his bird wife and their babies with all of his spicy heart

And to feed you a bit of extra content (and to keep everyone on the edge of their seats), I shall feed you a bit of information about the kiddies:

There are two of them, a son and a daughter. The son is the older one by a few years

I did research and took inspiration from both Egyptian and Hindu mythology for their design and some of their personality traits (I will explain this in detail soon. I actually really enjoyed learning about these religions, even if for a ridiculous reason, and I look forward to rambling about all the little bits and pieces of myths I cobbled together to make these two lol)

Each one resembles a parent quite a bit (but I will not specify which child looks like which parent yet)

One of them has wings like Golden Cheese does

Something really bad happens to the son in the future

Here are their soulstone descriptions, because yes, I really did go above and beyond creating these little guys lol

"This stone holds a piece of [REDACTED]'s soul. It feels warm and light, like a rare, refreshing breeze on a desert morning... But is that a single grain of self-doubt, nestled deep within its core?"

"This stone holds a piece of [REDACTED]'s soul. Though it burns very hot and bright, and feels difficult to handle at first, the kindness and unyielding strength resonating from within are nevertheless unmistakable."

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

Okay so this idea is kind of meh but what about AU frat boy! Dick Grayson who everyone likes but with a reader who’s kind of wary of him like gets put off vibes and discovers to their horror he’s a serial killer? Like maybe catches him in the act? Could be romantic or platonic either or :)

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍…

!!! GN reader, egregiously long post, paranoia, mind games, brief mention of suicides, death, blood, dead body, can be translated as romantic or platonic, idk what else needs to be warned.

Frat boy Dick Grayson AU, you will forever be famous in my heart. Why haven’t I written something like this before.

He’s got it all. The charm, the good looks, the surprisingly tasteful humor (considering he’s a part of a frat)… what’s not to like about him? He’s the number one campus heart-throb, with just about anyone throwing themselves at his feet.

Well, everyone except you.

Because there’s just something so off about him. For whatever reason, alarm bells go off in your head whenever he’s near. Some may call it paranoia, some may call it straight-up jealousy. But to you, it’s something much more; enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck when he decides to sit next to you in lectures.

At first, you thought it was due to the envious looks from other students. I mean, the Dick Grayson has decided to sit next to you of all people? That’s bound to start some nasty one-sided shit from people you don’t even know. But no… it’s not the whispers or glares. It’s him. The voice in the back of your head practically screams that it’s him. You just don’t know why.

Again, he’s got it all. Charm, good looks, humor. Maybe what’s so off-putting is that he’s just so friendly. Due to his outgoing personality, it’s no shock to see him hanging around someone new every day, and it’s to the point where you’re convinced he knows everyone on campus by name. Maybe you just need to understand the nature of a social butterfly more. Then he’ll stop being so off-putting. Right?

But, the more you interact with him, the less sure you are. It drives you crazy when he picks you as his lecture buddy because there’s just something so wrong. But what? Is it his casual questions about your hobbies? His friendly, gentle shoulder-grabs when he wants your attention? His relaxed demeanor around someone who should realistically be a total stranger to him, as neither of you share the shame lifestyles outside of classes?

No, you randomly realized one day; it’s none of that.

It’s the fact that his smile never reaches his eyes.

Dick Grayson has beautiful crystal blues; you’ll give him that much. They’re bewitching to look into, and you’ll find yourself captivated by his gaze even if you aren’t big on eye contact. But whoever came up with the saying, “the eyes are the window to the soul” clearly never met Dick Grayson. No matter how warm his smile may be, it’s impossible to know what he’s truly thinking with how guarded his stare is. A damn mystery, with no clues other than the slightest hint of a knowing twinkle every now and then.

You quickly decided that it’s creepy as hell. Why would a guy who acts like an open book have eyes so frosty? Has anyone else noticed this, or are they too busy being charmed by his honey words and pearly whites? Maybe it’s a part of his allure. People drool over the secretive ones, don’t they?

(Upon having that thought, you’d feel a shiver go up your spine. You can hear the echo of Dick Grayson’s voice saying, “you’re a secretive one, (Y/N). I’ll admit, it’s kinda cute” somewhere in your mind.)

(If you recall correctly, it was the day where you began to wonder where exactly he heard your name from.)

But you’ve begun to observe this anomaly named Dick Grayson. You’ve begun to pick up on how he carries himself around other people, and something became immediately apparent. Whatever the deal is with weird, closed-off look he has in his eyes… it’s situational. Strategic, even. While you have yet to pick up on the pattern, some conversations — or people, even — warrant shimmering eyes filled with mirth, while others get that plotting, calculating stare.

And, for whatever reason, everything about you seems to earn the latter.

(Like when you think he doesn’t notice you watching him. A seat ahead of you, he’ll carry on with the cheerleader just fine, his eyes sparkling with whatever emotion he desires. Then, when the conversation lulls, he’ll subtly crane his head behind him the slightest bit, icy eyes darting in your general direction.)

(You might be going crazy, but you swear he smirks a fraction of an inch when your gazes accidentally connect.)

So, yeah. Either you’re reading into things way too much, or this guy’s just not what he seems to be on the surface. And if this is really the game of cat and mouse you think it is, you’re pretty sure he knows you’re on to him. Because why else would he give you a peek behind the curtains of his true intentions? Okay, maybe that’s a little too far, as you’re not sure what his true intentions are, but still… something about how he interacts with you — which seems to be a lot, by the way — just has this subtle taunting undertone to everything. Like he knows you know something and no one will believe you.

God, if only you actually knew what he knows you know. It would make this game of mental fuckery much more palatable.

Something is so off about Dick Grayson. You’re not sure if anyone else feels the same way, but it’s just… true. That jolt of fight or flight you get when he’s looking at you has been there since day one, and it will probably continue to be there for as long as you’re in the same classes as him. And you know what doesn’t help? The strange disappearances happening around campus. Because of course there has to be some sort of side plot happening. It’s not just enough that you have this weirdo friendly frat guy wanting to get all-chummy with everyone. Nope; students and faculty alike seem to be dropping like flies, some of them even found dead after an accident or an unfortunately successful suicide attempt.

So, maybe you consume too much true crime content. Maybe people are right about that shit fucking up your mentality, and now you’re just a paranoid loser who thinks everyone is out to get them. But… I mean… a charismatic guy who’s enchanted pretty much everyone within a ten-mile radius? Come on. Where have you heard that one before. The signs are right there. Why are you the only fucking person seeing them?! Why is no one else suspicious of this weirdo who’s obviously up to something?! Why is no one calling him out on this behavior?!

… Because it’s all in your head. Because you’ve officially lost it, and the only weirdo here is you. Because when a girl started having an allergic reaction, the one who was able to control the situation and save her life was none other than Dick Grayson. Because his tone was so serious, his eyes were so focused, and his hands were so gentle yet methodical as he administered her epipen. Because he went through breathing exercises with her to calm her down, and asked with a genuinely worried expression how she was feeling.

Because Dick Grayson is a nice person who wanted to walk her back to her dorm, and all you are is a judgmental creep who comes up with batshit crazy conspiracies when someone looks at them weird.

Maybe nothing is wrong with him. If there was, why would he look so sincere during that whole thing? Aren’t life or death situations the perfect way to pick up on people’s true natures? Being right there, all you saw was a natural-born leader commanding the room, eyes ablaze with conviction as he ordered you to hand that girl’s back to him so he can dig for the epi. Sure, he might get a strange look in his eyes every now and then, but does that really matter in the grand scheme of things? As long as he’s got his head on his shoulder when needed, a mischievous glance or two never hurt anyone.

That night, you walked back to your dorm feeling like a piece of shit. There was no plotting. There was no game of cat and mouse. The friendly frat boy was always just that; a friendly frat boy. So, now here you are, even going as far as to take the long way back from your 8 pm lecture in order to fully maximize this time to reflect. Maybe you should somehow apologize to him. While you didn’t outwardly do anything wrong, you’ve always had this slight distrusting attitude towards him, and it was about time you change it. Who knows, maybe you’ll be the one to take initiative and sit next to him. Start the conversation yourself, ask him some questions, just generally return the friendliness he’s always shown you.

That’s when the hairs on the back of your neck began to stand.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your foot barely even flat on the beaten path before you. He was near. You knew he was near. That fight or flight instinct has basically been conditioned to sense his presence at this point, and now here it was, screaming at you that he’s near. Whatever thoughts you had to make amends with Dick Grayson were immediately thrown out in favor of that old, reliable fear.

He’s near, but you don’t see him.

No. You hear him.

He’s humming. Somewhere behind the tall, untamed shrubbery next to the path, friendly frat boy Dick Grayson is humming an unfamiliar tune, his soft voice smooth as a stone in a river. However, what would probably sound soothing to a normal person instead fills you with a sense of dread. What the hell is he doing out here?! Close to 10 in the fucking night, singing a little tune like some fucking creep?

Then, you noticed it. The sounds of something heavy scuffing against the dirt. Or, rather, dragging.

Behind the bushes and trees, Dick Grayson is dragging something. At 10 in the night.

What the actual fuck.

Curiosity is a dangerous thing. As much as you sure as hell wanted nothing to do with whatever he’s doing, a dark voice in your brain — which sounded a bit too close to Dick Grayson’s voice — urged you to look. Come on, just a peek. This bastard’s been playing mind games with you all semester, hasn’t he? Don’t you wanna know what his intentions are for sure? I mean, what kind of a frat boy hangs out in the bushes while he could be out partying on a Friday night?

Isn’t this just weird, (Y/N)?

Before you even knew it, your feet were moving on their own. Gentle steps. Avoid the twigs, avoid the leaves. Do not let him hear you. With a feather-light touch, your hand steadied itself against a nearby tree as you used it for cover.

A few long, quiet breaths. Just to calm your nerves.

Then, you slowly craned your head out from behind the tree.

There he was, slightly hunched over with his back facing you. He had a fist full of something, though you couldn’t tell quite what it was due to the night’s shadows. Dark, inky stains caked his sweater, and while the naïve part of your brain wanted to call it mud, the dread in your gut knew better. You craned your head out a bit further to get a better look at the scene.

A body. In front of Dick Grayson’s hunched over form was a body lying face down. His fist was clutching its hair, assumingely dragging it by the head from… wherever. The new angle also gave you the advantage of seeing Dick’s other hand, clutching what looked to be a hammer cover in… definitely not mud.

He was still humming. That bastard was still humming after doing whatever the fuck he did to that poor person. That person… Dick finally stood up straight, lifting the head with him by their hair… that girl. It was the same one who had the allergic reaction. Bloodied and with a dented forehead — god, you were going to be sick — but you knew it was her. She was limp in his grasp, swaying aimlessly as Dick rotated her a bit as though he was admiring his own handiwork.

He killed her.

Dick Grayson killed her.

You didn’t move. Christ, how could you after seeing something so horrific? The alarm bells in your head were much louder than your own heartbeat, screaming for you to run run run run runrunrunRUNRUNRUNRUN—

His head suddenly swiveled towards you.

No more humming as his gaze found yours.

The two of you were locked in a stalemate, staring at each other with such intensity. Those icy blue eyes held no readable emotion, not even a hint of surprise that you caught him in the act. No; he just stared at you, one hand holding a fist-full of hair and the other absently fiddling with his hammer.

A sly smirk slowly broke out on his face.

He knew you were watching the entire time, didn’t he?

Because he is a plotting piece of shit, isn’t he? This has always been a game of cat and mouse to him, and he knew you were on to him since the beginning. That friendly, charming exterior… the disappearances. Goddamnit, you were fucking right.

Something is so off about Dick Grayson.

And no one will believe you.

[wadewnstonwilson]

pumpkin spice & profanity;

summary: in a cozy coffee shop filled with the warmth of autumn, Logan Howlett’s quiet coffee run takes an unexpected turn when he meets Wade Wilson, a loud, crass, and endearing stranger sporting a "Spooky Season" hoodie. despite Wade’s relentless swearing and over-the-top flirting, Logan finds himself charmed by his energy.

word count: 1.1k

suggestion by @creativijay!

The smell of pumpkin spice and roasted coffee beans mingled in the air as Logan Howlett pushed open the door to a small coffee shop, a bell tinkling above his head as he stepped inside. Outside, fall was in full swing: golden leaves scattered across the sidewalks, a crisp chill hung in the air, and pumpkins were propped in various places, creating a warm, festive atmosphere. Logan had never been one for pumpkin spice or seasonal hype, but he couldn’t deny he liked the smell. Besides, it wasn’t like he was here for the décor; he just wanted his coffee—black, strong, and preferably scalding.

As he moved up the line, he tugged his jacket closer, catching a glance of his reflection in the glass display case. He looked scruffy as always, his stubble a little rougher than usual, his hair sticking up in wild tufts he hadn’t bothered to smooth down. But if anything, it added to the intimidating air he carried, which was probably why he usually didn’t have to worry about anyone striking up a conversation.

“Large black coffee,” he grumbled when it was his turn. The barista nodded, looking slightly intimidated as she keyed in his order.

Just as he was paying, Logan’s ears picked up a familiar sound: swearing. A constant stream of it, in fact, laced with occasional snorts and chuckles, coming from a guy at the end of the counter.

Logan turned, trying not to look obvious, and his gaze landed on the man causing the racket. He had on a beanie that read *Spooky Season* in a horribly ironic Comic Sans font. The beanie matched a hoodie emblazoned with the same words and font, and as the guy shifted, Logan noted that he was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet as if he had too much energy and nowhere to put it.

“Oh, come on! I swear if this machine screws up my order one more time, I’m gonna come back here with a chainsaw and reenact Texas Chainsaw Massacre in the name of every caffeine-deprived citizen out there!” The guy’s voice was loud enough for most of the shop to hear, and several customers shot him dirty looks. He, however, was oblivious—or just didn’t care.

Logan found himself smirking, even as he tried to keep his expression impassive. It wasn’t every day he saw someone go off on a coffee machine, and there was something oddly endearing about the guy’s sheer volume and lack of shame.

Just then, the barista handed Logan his coffee, and as he turned to find a seat, he realized the guy had caught him looking. With a quick, almost mischievous grin, the stranger sidled up to him, coffee in hand.

“Hey there, tough guy. Didn’t peg you for the seasonal coffee type,” he said with a lopsided smile that revealed a glimpse of his teeth. His voice was smooth but laced with a wicked edge, like he knew he was about to say something offensive and couldn’t wait.

Logan grunted. “I’m not. Just here for a black coffee.” He gestured with his cup, arching an eyebrow as if to dare the guy to say something about it.

“Oh, look at you, all rugged and classic. Black coffee, huh?” The stranger snorted. “Sounds like my high school gym teacher. Guy was a real hardass—smelled like wet dog, too. Hopefully, you don’t have the same cologne.”

Logan couldn’t help it; he chuckled. The guy’s energy was contagious, and it had been a while since he’d met someone so… vibrant. And, frankly, ridiculous.

“Yeah? Didn’t realize my coffee order was up for public scrutiny,” Logan replied, trying to keep the smile out of his voice.

“Oh, everything’s up for public scrutiny,” the stranger said with a grin. “You look like you walked out of a lumberjack calendar—seriously, how do you even get your hair like that? Do you roll around on a carpet first thing in the morning, or is it natural?”

Logan raised his eyebrows, surprised. “What’s it to you?”

The stranger shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Hey, just appreciating the view. Don’t get your plaid in a twist.”

“Didn’t catch your name,” Logan said, leaning back against the counter, intrigued despite himself.

“Oh, I didn’t throw it,” the stranger said, extending a hand. “But since you asked so nicely, the name’s Wade. Wade Wilson, professional caffeine addict and part-time lover of all things spooky.” He gestured to his hoodie with a flourish, giving Logan an exaggerated wink.

Logan blinked, taken aback by the guy’s brashness but unable to suppress a smirk. “Logan.”

Wade’s eyes lit up as he clasped Logan’s hand, giving it a shake that was a little too enthusiastic. “Logan, huh? Like the Wolverine? Badass name.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Logan muttered, feeling an odd warmth under Wade’s intense gaze. The guy was practically buzzing with energy, and it was both exasperating and oddly charming.

“So, Logan,” Wade continued, leaning in conspiratorially, “what do you say we skip the awkward part where we pretend like we’re not totally into each other and just grab dinner sometime?”

Logan froze, not expecting Wade to be so forward. A faint flush crept up his cheeks as he stammered, “Are you… are you asking me out?”

“Damn right I am!” Wade said, utterly unfazed. “And trust me, you’d be lucky to have a date with me. I come with terrible jokes, relentless flirting, and, if you’re lucky, I might even buy you a coffee.”

Logan let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “A little forward, don’t you think?”

Wade shrugged, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, life’s short, Peanut. You don’t think I came out of the womb this charming, do you? Had to work at it. And I’m not one to waste time.”

Logan’s lips twitched. There was something about Wade’s cocky grin, the way his face lit up when he talked, that was infectious. For the first time in a long time, Logan felt his guard slipping. He glanced down at his coffee, debating. It wasn’t like he had anything to lose.

“All right, Wade,” he said, surprising himself. “You got yourself a dinner.”

Wade’s grin widened, if that was even possible, and he pumped a fist in the air like he’d just won the lottery. “Hell yeah! All right, so here’s the plan. I pick you up at six, we go somewhere semi-classy, and I promise I’ll only make, like, five inappropriate jokes. Sound good?”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “Better make it three.”

“Oh, you’re killing me, Logan! Three? That’s like… child’s play!” Wade groaned dramatically, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away.

“See you at six,” Logan said, turning toward the door before he could change his mind. As he walked out, he heard Wade shouting after him.

“Wear something cozy! I’m thinking plaid. Gotta stay on-brand!”

Logan chuckled as he stepped into the crisp autumn air, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. Maybe he’d finally met his match in Wade Wilson.

[franabz]

★ A fresh start Band141!AU

(part 4)

The days following your note of leave were completely silent, though you couldn't help but say you weren't surprised. You couldn't deny the twisting pain in your gut every time you stumbled across more posts about your former band and their newest member, your replacement. It always hurt to see how they were seemingly doing much better with "Sadie" than they were ever doing with you. They never once really gave you a second glance, simply seeing you as an extra burden to carry due to your stage fright, and always put that against you during gigs. It was about time for a fresh start.

"Is Y/N gonna freeze up again?" Followed by stupidly sickening snickers of agreement. You hated it.

Constantly overshadowed by your former bandmates, you were sick of it. Sick of being overcasted as just another voice, another unheard opinion, another burden.

After weeks of thoughtful consideration, you finally snatched up that 141 business card that had been collecting dust on your bedside table and walked over to your desk, plopping down in your chair with a heavy sigh and letting your eyes roam over the wording one last time, before finally biting the bullet and giving it a call, your hand subtly shaking in anxiety as your fingers dialed the number on the card.

You listened to the tone dial for a few moments, knee bouncing slightly in anticipation, feeling like every moment passing was hours.

"Price! Ye phone is ringin!'" Soap shouted from across the couch in Price's flat with Gaz. Price looked up from over the kitchen counter where he was currently nursing a cigar over an ash tray. As for Ghost, he was out doing god knows what. He was never the verbal guy. "Who is it?" John grunted, weary eyes flickering up to meet Soap's gaze with a small sigh. Soap glanced over at the phone once again. Gaz as well looked up curiously from his spot in the kitchen, downing a bottle of water while leaning against the counter. "Some unknown number." He replied, rolling to lay on his belly, and resting his chin in his palm. Price sighed again, setting his cigar down onto the ashtray on the counter and exhaling the smoke through his nose, before crossing the room to his phone and picking it up off the coffee table and bringing it to his ear. "Hello?" He placed a hand on his hip, glancing out the window as he listened to a familiar voice croak through the phone, immediately recognizing it as the young bird he met at the bar during the band night.

"Hey... Is this, uh... John Price?" You spoke sheepishly, twirling a strand of hair around your finger to try and take your mind off of the crippling fear of rejection despite barely even speaking to the guy properly. "It's me, Y/N... From the band night?" You added, gulping quietly.

Price leaned against the armrest of the couch beside him and glanced from Soap on the couch to Gaz in the kitchen, before nodding slightly and clearing his throat. "Yes ma'am, that'd be right." He replied respectfully. "I'm interested in your offer as a secondary vocalist and i'm wondering when would be a good time to... come in?" Your voice spoke through the phone once again, and by now Soap is already practically half way off the couch to put his ear against the other end of Price's phone, trying to pitch what was going on. As soon as he got a catch of who was on the other line, he couldn't help but let his smile grow wider. "Simon's gonnae be surprised..." He snickered, earning a small shove from Price as a warning.

"F'course. How does next Saturday sound?" Price hummed gruffly, pleased that he managed to get a call back after being convinced you would have forgotten or not given the offer much mind. Soap's smile widened as he heard faintly what was being said from the other end, mouthing "We got 'er!" to Gaz, earning a small smile from him as well. "Yeah... Next Saturday is fine. Thank you!" You replied, the relief in your voice slightly noticeable. You were just relieved you weren't outright turned down, and that eased your anxiety a bit.

"Perfect. I'll see ya then." Price grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling up slightly. You two exchanged goodbyes, Price texted you the address... And that was it.

You listened to the line go flat, letting go of a breath you didn't even realize you were holding until now. That was it... right? You set your phone down against your desk with a small thud and simply sat in your own emotions for a few seconds. Today was Thursday... meaning two days to prepare. Had to make good first impression, of course, and make sure you looked presentable— but there wasn't a mental checklist without worries as well. What if i voice crack? What if my hands get clammy and I drop the mic? What if they don't like me?—

No. Get out of your head. You mentally scolded yourself as you finally pushed yourself off your desk, deciding to do what you did best and simply sit on it. It was always easier to make decisions on a clear head, as you always reminded yourself.

The days following the interview were grueling. Countless hours of preparation that frankly didn't even need to get done got done. Nothing could go wrong. The confirmation text the day of the interview threw an even deeper pit into your gut, fumbling your phone as you read the text, grabbing your car keys and purse before reaching for the front door to your apartment, and typing out a quick and short reply.

Thankfully the place wasn't too far from where you lived, which meant you didn't have to worry as much about sweating bullets through your perfectly ironed button-up during the drive even though lets face it: you'd probably still manage it either way in the state of balled up nerves you were in.

Don't worry... It's a fresh start.

[ppssession]

Brain Transplant Project

Adam and Dean are a gay couple who have been living together for 10 years, since they graduated from high school.

Sadly, Dean's death from a terminal illness was a huge blow to Adam, but luckily Adam and Dean were involved in a secret project to transplant a brain into a new body by extracting the brain seeds from the deceased's body. Now, Adam has Dean's brain seeds.

While Adam is trying to find a new body for Dean, he has to help out at a commercial shoot when he finds the body that suits Dean the most: Dew's body.

Dew is a famous actor. Whenever Dew is the presenter for any advertisement, it will definitely be successful.

Adam saw that this was the perfect body for his boyfriend, so he helped arrange a poolside photoshoot. Luckily, the ad was for a supplement that looked exactly like Brain Seeds.

When the opportunity arose, Adam switched supplements with brain seeds. If you don't look closely, brain seeds are very much like supplements.

A lot of the early part of the commercial was the shooting of Dew's body. It made Adam feel really good knowing that this would become his Boyfriend body.

In the last part of the shoot, Dew was eating breakfast and taking supplements. When Dew slowly finished eating, the image of Dew eating brain seeds instead of supplements made Adam smile and smile happily until he couldn't hide it. But Adam had to stay calm. He had to wait until the brain seeds grew and took over Dew's body first.

Several weeks later at Dew's luxurious home, he had a severe stomachache. He thought it was the food he had eaten a few days ago. He chose to rest at home. After taking a nap for a while, Dew felt a strange pain. When he opened his eyes, he found something inside his body, on his chest.

When it went up to his neck, Dew tried to block it with his hands, but he couldn't control his arms as if someone else was controlling it for him.

As something moved up his neck, it moved up to his face. Eventually, his head seemed to fight Dew's brain. Dew's body convulsed and his muscles tensed up. In no time, Dew's body slowly vomited out his brain and he lost consciousness for about five hours. Not long after, Dew's body slowly stood up and used his hands to rub different parts of his body to check it before Dew picked up his phone to call someone.

Adam got a call from Dew to come to his house. He arrived and met Dew at the pool. Hello, my love, Dew said.

Dean, is that you? Adam said with gratitude. Yes, dear, look at me. How handsome is my new body? Dean, who had already taken over Dew's body, said proudly.

The two slowly kissed passionately, their lips meeting each other lustfully.

Dean carried Adam onto the bed in the bedroom before pulling down his pants to reveal his large, erect penis. Dean pulled down Adam's pants as well and placed the tip of his cock at Adam's asshole. Let me try out my new cock, I want to see if it can make my little husband happy.

No sooner had Adam spoken than Dean's thick rod entered Adam's hole, thrusting in and out of Adam's hole without stopping, causing him to gasp for air. Their moans filled the house.

Shit, it still feels good. Dew's voice came out of her throat. Thank you for the new body, my love, before thrusting into her one last time.

Fuck, when Dean groaned for the last time, the semen flowed out of his penis. Dean slowly weakened, looking at Adam's face, who took every drop of him until he fell asleep.

Dean lets Adam sleep and he sleeps too.

When Adam woke up, he went down to the pool and met Dean. Dean turned to him and thanked him again for giving me a new body, my love.

Adam, no need to thank me, Dean. No, I should call you Dew because you're my handsome actor now.

They kissed again. Okay, let's do it again before I have to go film the movie. The schedule saved on my phone told me I had several more hours.

Sure, dear, take as much as you want, Adam agreed before kissing Dean passionately. Make good use of your new body, my love.

Finally, I must confess that I finished writing it a few hours ago, but accidentally deleted it, so I had to rewrite it. Luckily, I still remember most of the content, but I forgot some words, so I had to edit it. It's okay, if you want to change it, it's okay. Haha, I hope you like it. See you in the next story. Bye bye.

[repulsive-manwhore]

THE 10 BEST VIOLENT JAMES DEEN PORN SCENES (in my opinion)

when it comes to male porn actors, there's none i look up to or attempt to mimic more in the bedroom than James Deen. he is simply porn's "golden boy." the way he talks, acts, carries himself, and (of course) fucks in every rough scene he stars in is what i aspire to be. picking only 10 of his craziest documented sexual endeavors was difficult, but i think i've got a good list here. so without further ado, here it is, the 10 best JD scenes, in my humble opinion. go on, google is free, have some fun while you read. ❤️

Whore Wife (Cherry Torn, Kink™) - classic gangbang scene which is conveniently also where my header image is from.

Extreme Anal Queen (Adriana Chechik, ANALIZED.COM™) - rough bathroom anal scene. doggy over the sink is my favorite part. there's also a toilet involved. nasty stuff.

Pornoromance (Lia Lor, James Deen Productions™) - this scene has it all. any scene fully produced/released by the man himself is a good choice, this one is a cut above though.

Pornstar Punishment (Ashli Orion, Brazzers™) - schoolgirl scene. you'll notice there's a "fuckpig" element in most or all of these but this one especially, so much at times that some versions cut out some of the facial play/humiliation. i guess Brazzers wasn't rocking with it lol. if you can find one with the full footage, save that shit for real, cuz i ain't giving you it lmao.

Ravished By The Wrong Man (Lia Lor, Kink™) - second entry in this list with Lia Lor, this time with bondage. if that's your thing, then just like the last one, this too has it all. ropes, ball gags, i think a taser gets pulled out at some point? yeah.

BANG! Casting (Yhivi, BANG!™) - god, where do i even begin? the best chemistry on this list. Yhivi is absolutely adorable and she's having the time of her life in this scene getting used like a ragdoll. just violence, a couch and smiles. my personal fav.

Casey Calvert: Show Me Rough (ANALIZED.COM) - shifting over to the reality aspect now, from staged scenes and radical angles to camcorder vlogs and single recording positions. still hot as fuck. starts out with a great convo, then goes 0 to 100 seemingly almost out of nowhere.

James Deen's 7 Sins: WRATH (Carmen Caliente, Carmen Callaway, Dani Daniels, Delilah Davis, Janice Griffith, Jessica Ryan, Sadie Santana, Shay Ryan, Trinity St. Clair, Vyxen Steel) - i mean, i think the title and the cast list explains enough.

The Slutmother (Kelly Divine, Brazzers™) - another classic scene from the days of old. Deen really laid the hammer down with the face slapping in this one, which is funny bc it's a Godfather parody. don't know why he went so hard for something so comedic, but i love it.

"BANG! Casting" (Abella Danger, BANG!™) - struggled with this last slot but had to throw in another casting couch banger. this one is a doozy. i like the Yhivi one more because she's much more submissive/less aggressive than Abella is here but i mean jesus, this bitch gets trashed and thrashed in this one. there's a part where he chucks her into the wall and i laughed the first time i watched it. nasty, just nasty.

HOPE Y'ALL GET A KICK OUT OF THIS ONE YOU SICK FUCKS. ENJOY.

[gojoacedia]

Vi has severe attachment issues, meaning it took you a long time to break the walls surrounding her heart down to get to the point you are at with her now. And boy was it obvious how attached she was.

-She would get nervous if you left for even a few seconds. She would always go grocery shopping with you, workout with you (even though your workouts were half of what she did), sit on the counter while you did your makeup, and even sit on the floor of the bathroom if you were taking too long in the shower.

-If you managed to escape her arms in the middle of the night she would panic in her sleep and grab you back as fast as possible. You couldn’t be an inch away from her.

-She looks at you like you’re insane if you do anything nice for her. She could be standing behind you and kissing your neck the whole time you were cooking and still not realize you were making food for her. When you do serve her a plate she tells you to eat it. “You need to eat too! I can’t eat this if you don’t have anything!” She would complain. “Vi, honey, I have my own plate. I made enough for two.” You would reply, rolling your eyes at how she never considered you making two portions.

-Every day when you come home from work or school she greets you at the door like a dog who hasn’t seen their human for weeks. She would bury her face in your neck, smelling your hair like it was a drug. You would drop all of your bags (some of which had gifts for her) and hug her back. “What’s up with you today? I was gone for 30 more minutes and you're acting like it’s been years,” you laughed, grabbing her face in your hands and giving her a long kiss. She would just roll her eyes and tell you to shut up, never wanting to admit how much you affect her.

-When you have sex she will always force you to make eye contact. She didn’t want you thinking about anything other than the way she made you feel. If you ever threw your head back in pleasure she would immediately stop and grab your chin, forcing you to look back down at her. “Eyes on me, princess, or you don’t get to cum,” she would say. She couldn’t help herself from getting exponentially more wet when you whimpered in protest, following her orders anyway.

-After you came (and after she came if she was in the mood) she would carry you to the shower, giving you butterflies every time she picked you up like you weighed nothing. She would make you pee before you went in the shower so you didn’t get a yeast infection, knowing your body better than your other partners ever did.

-She had absolutely no shame when it came to the nastiest aspects of your life. She could never see you as anything other than a goddess. Even if you were sick and snotting your brains out into an entire box of tissues. Even if you were on your period, disgusted at whatever left your body that week. You could have pink eye and she would gently wash away all the eye crusts with a warm washcloth. Nothing could phase her when it came to you.

-You eventually needed to have a serious talk with her about how she treated you. She would burn the whole world down for you and then get mad if you traveled to her favorite restaurant in the underground to get take-out slugs. You needed her to know you were also allowed to be attached.

-Going off of that, if you ever needed to have a conversation about boundaries you had a rule that you had to say 5 nice things about her for every complaint. You knew she didn’t take criticism well due to her past, so you made her feel like royalty before trying to have any serious conversation with her. She noticed this, of course, and it only made her love you more. Her impatience mixed with your patience was a match made in heaven.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

OH MY GYATTTT YOU WROTE "SECRETS IN LOVE" AND IT WAS SO GOOD WTH? CAN YOU PLSPLSPLS DO THE SAME THING WITH DAVE MUSTAINE PLS IM ON MY KNEES BEGGING ILL GIVE YOU MY WHOLE RESPECT AND LOVE PLS ILYSM

A/n: Ik Dave hates cats but he looks like a cat so fuck you idk

Warnings: smut, hybrid au, stomach bulge, breeding kink, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You always wanted a pet but your dad was allergic to pretty much everything, luckily that didn't seem to get passed down to you so when you found a stray cat on your walk home from work you happily brought it into your home.

The cat was big, much bigger than a normal house cat. You brushed it off as the cat being a main coon or something. It had long ginger fur that was matted and not well groomed so you ran it a bath when you got home.

The cat, who you quickly found out was a boy, was very needy for your touch, purring when you pet him and reaching for you when you pulled away.

You took him to the vet the next morning, went out and got all the necessities, you'd wasted your whole childhood without pets and you had a lot of making up to do, this was your chance.

You never gave him a name, sticking to nicknames and affectionate terms -dipshit, handsome, monsieur, dumbass.

He cuddled up in bed with you while you slept, walked around the kitchen with you when you cooked, hell, he was so obedient you got him a leash and collar and started taking him on walks.

He was a smart cat, so smart you often swore he was talking to you, but that was crazy... right?

You'd had him for almost a year, you didn't know how old he was exactly or when he was born but you still wanted to celebrate, if not his birthday, the day you got him. You went a little overboard but he was special to you, your first pet and a very important character in your life.

It didn't worry you too much to not know how old he was until recently when he started to pick up the wretched scent. At first you thought he'd just played in something he shouldn't have but the smell carried through multiple baths and only seemed to get worse as days passed.

You took him to the vet but they said he was fine, you didn't believe it but you didn't have anything else to go off of, only able to trust the vets word. You didn't know what was happening but your mind kept pushing the worst so you were going to celebrate his new birthday goddammit.

The cat had been spending almost everyday in your room, on your bed. He seemed happy there and angry everywhere else, but he also seemed angry whenever you weren't there or when you were leaving, he'd always try to keep you to stay. It was the first time he'd ever hissed at you.

You came home with a small brown paper bag of treats for him, little cookies with yogurt frosting, or something you weren't really paying attention but they were from the pet store down the street so you trusted them.

You walked in and the smell hit you like a train. It was worse than ever and it only got stronger as you neared the bedroom. Something was definitely wrong.

"Hey, where's my handsome boy-" You were stopped dead in your tracks when you opened the door to your bedroom only to find not a cat but a man splayed out in your bed. You dropped the baggy and stared at him.

He was tall and bare, shoulders littered with freckles and a long fiery main of hair reaching past his shoulders. There was a prominent scar on his side, just under his ribs, with the fluffy tail and matching ears there was no doubt who it was.

"My handsome boy..." You muttered, taking a few hesitant steps closer. He was panting, body heaving with every breath. The scent shifted in the air, fogging your mind and suddenly it didn't smell so rancid.

"Dave..." He grunted. "M'Dave." He weakly reached for you and you took his hand, feeling the callouses on the pads of his fingers, his little toe beans.

"What-what happened to you..?" You asked, pulling your hand away. This had to be some twisted dream, this wasn't your cat, this wasn't who you cuddled with every night. This was Dave, not your cat.

He laughed weakly, smiling tiredly up at you. "What answer are you hoping for?"

You shrugged, you had a few questions and wanted answers to all of them but that would take some time and he looked... well, in a sense godly, but he looked like he was in pain. "Are you... You're dying, aren't you..?" You asked solemnly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

Dave stared at you blankly for a moment before he slowly started to laugh. "No, I'm not dying, the vet told you so... by the way, I'm never going there again." He said, sitting up and not bothering to cover himself, you couldn't stop your gaze from wandering to the ginger tufts leading down to his hard cock, red and pulsing painfully. It was a strange sight but you could feel a heat pooling in your gut.

He caught where you were looking and leaned closer to you, placing a finger under your chin and tilting your head to look up at him. His plush lips met yours in a sweet kiss, it was short because he pulled away to look at you. "I'm not dying, it's just a rut."

"A rut?" You repeated curiously, eyes flickering over his face, taking in his strong features -cut jaw, sharp nose, full lips, and those eyes... you could die happy staring into them. This wasn't your cat, definitely not.

"Yeah, like a heat." He said simply, shifted closer to you. "I need a mate, someone to make mine, someone to have my kits." He placed another kiss onto your lips, this lasting longer, more desire in it. "I need you, master."

"Y/n." You said quickly. "Call me Y/n."

He smiled at you, hand falling from your chin to your side and giving it a gentle squeeze. "How about I just call you mine." He said, tone darker than you'd heard from him so far.

He was much stronger than you'd taken him for, pulling you tight to him and getting you on your back under him. He didn't bother with your clothes, instead just ripping them off of you and discarding the scraps over the sides of the bed.

A moment ago he seemed weak and aching, now he was pinning you down to the mattress effortlessly, lips moving against yours like a perfect ocean, strong and vivid motions.

He gripped your thighs so tight they were sure to bruise, but he needed you, every inch he could get. He pushed your legs up, knees to your chest, and slid into you easily with how wet you were, so needy for him already.

This was a new passion you'd never felt before. He wasn't your first, but no one was like him, big and strong sure, but this was different, you just didn't know why.

That smell filled your nostrils again, it worked like a drug, making you melt. Dave groaned above you, breath catching in his throat. "Mph- Fuck." He grunted, leaning down and flattening your body like a folding chair with his. His hips moved fast, thrusting into you at a harsh pace and making your stomach bulge with his size every time.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. A deep rumbling filtered through your ears, sending vibrations through your body. "So good, so good for me, sweetheart, just keep making those sounds." Your moans echoed out through the room as your body bounced up and down the bed, making the bedframe creak but you couldn't be bothered to worry about it breaking.

You felt Dave's hot breath fanning over your neck, right where it connected to your shoulder. "Smell so good..." He groaned, licking over the skin there. Your hands clawed at his back, body aching for more than he was giving you, somehow, you needed more.

You were so close, body twitching under Dave. He bit down on you, sharp canines breaking your skin with ease. It was an animalistic need he felt and it only made his movements more aggressive, make your moans higher and needier.

Soon your body was wracked with pleasure, your hands fell from their spot on Dave's back, instead moving to hold his arms that were planted right beside your head. He didn't stop and he didn't let go of your flesh, occasionally licking the wound but his scratchy tongue wasn't the pleasant touch he thought it was.

A heat or rut could last days or even weeks and Dave was no exception. He had a long start to it, hence the stench that just got worse over time, but it was only lasting three days, thankfully, your body couldn't take much more than that.

There were quick breaks, Dave would get up to get water and it gave you a minute to yourself. Your body ached, pulsing from pleasure, hole fluttering around nothing, the absence of Dave hurt more. Tears stained your cheeks and the sheets under you along with other fluids. Your thighs were bruised and that bite Dave had left on your neck... you didn't know what it was but it was warm and smelled like him.

Most notably, you felt fluffy, your brain was fuzzy but you were fluffy... You brushed it aside when Dave would return, offering you a few sips of water while he got resituated inside you.

Dave had crashed not long after you, the smell, while it didn't stink anymore, was no longer present. Other smells were very much there but not the Dave's rut. You woke up to be greeted with darkness and sugar coated pain.

All you needed was to make it to the bathroom, how long you'd last away from Dave you didn't know and didn't plan on finding out but that bathroom was good enough.

You were walking funny and the lights stung your eyes when they hit them. Looking in the mirror your stomach was bloated with Dave, always making a point to cum inside you and you lost count after three -for him, by that point you were well past... something.

Still, the most notable change wasn't your full gut or your red face, not even the mark spread over your neck and shoulder, instead it was the fluffy bunny ears that had propped themselves up on your head and the tail bundled up neatly on your lower back.

“Wow…” Dave’s voice came from the door, breathless and full of love. He moved behind you, wrapping his arms around you to hold your swollen stomach. “Mine, all mine.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to your neck right where he’d marked you. “My sweet little bunny.”

When the hell did this happen? And why did it feel so right…

[impossible-rat-babies]

ohhhhh I’m thinking about the dynamic between eyrie “I will willing lay down my autonomy in situations of great emotional distress to distance me from myself + to remove the burden of choice/guilt” v. just estinien !