#who aren’t trying to be more than kind. or when I as myself. with the thoughts and opinions I have. am able to get along with anyone I

[devildomwriter]

You Go To See A Christmas Carol Part IV

It’s intermission and it’s not going quietly, if anything it’s getting much worse even with the cops gone.

Mammon: “…”

Satan: “You’re awfully quiet Mammon…”

Mammon: “Do you guys think I love money more than people?”

Everyone: “Yes.”

Mammon: “…”

Mammon: “Ya don’t think a ghost’ll come after me though right?”

Solomon: “I can arrange it.”

Lucifer: “So can I.”

Diavolo: “That sounds like great fun.”

Mammon: “Hell no, don’t you dare! Some ghost ain’t gonna teach me a lesson or make me cry dammit!”

Belphegor: “Then why were you wiping away tears when Belle left, huh?”

Luke: “Wow Belphie you actually stayed awake?”

Belphegor: “I enjoy watching Mammon’s future play out in front of him.”

Diavolo: “Hahahaha.”

MC: “Well, I think I need a drink, where was that bar?”

Lucifer: “I’ll show you.”

MC: “Can you walk there?”

Lucifer: “I only had two beers, that’s water to me.”

MC: “If you say so.”

Diavolo: “Perhaps I’ll get a drink too.”

Barbatos: “I can fetch it for you Young Master.”

Diavolo: “Thank you Barbatos.”

Solomon: “So…”

Diavolo: “…”

Solomon: “Are we gonna prank Mammon later?”

Diavolo: “Message me.”

Solomon: “Right.”

Mammon: “You guys are being suspicious!”

Asmodeus: “I’m back! What did I miss!”

Everyone: “Asmo!”

Asmodeus: “Hey guys! I could hear most of the play, that Scrooge guy is a lot like Mammon, yeah?”

Satan: “Sadly the resemblance is so uncanny I cannot separate the two in my mind anymore. You ruined a Christmas Carol for me Mammon!”

Mammon: “What the hell did I do?”

Simeon: “Well there’s still the ending, right Satan? And I’m sure Mammon won’t be so much like the character then?”

Mammon: “Huh? Does something happen to Scrooge?”

Simeon: “I’m not going to spoil anything for you.”

Mammon: “So…Asmo. What were you up to?”

Asmodeus: “More like who was I in to?”

Simeon: “Luke let’s get some popcorn.”

Diavolo: “I think I’ll go find Barbatos.”

Belphegor: “Beelzebub let’s get some refills.”

Beelzebub: “Okay.”

Solomon: “You know I think I’d like to hear this story too.”

Asmodeus: “Ugh, they’re all such prudes! But not you Solomon.”

Solomon: “I don’t know if that’s a compliment…”

Asmodeus: “Yeah so anyway I just charmed the cops so they thought everything was fine. They were kinda confused about why they were there to begin with but they got one look at me and that’s all they needed!”

Solomon: “You didn’t charm them, right?”

Asmodeus: “Into having sex?”

Asmodeus: “Hell no. I’m not into that dubious consent stuff, not unless it’s roleplay.”

Solomon: “Well that’s all I need to know. Where are they now?”

Asmodeus: “I sent them on their way. Told them they need a vacation from all this mess.”

Solomon: “Well they’re probably not even in the city anymore if you told them to leave…”

Asmodeus: “Aren’t I so kind! I’m even sending people on vacations!”

Solomon: “Sure…”

Mammon: “Hey Asmo? Didn’t ya have some fancy necklace on earlier?”

Asmodeus: “My Devicci? What! Where is it!? Mammon you didn’t take it did you!”

Mammon: “No! I was gonna though that’s why I noticed!”

Asmodeus: “Ugh! I probably dropped it in that room! Mammon come help me find it.”

Mammon: “Why me!?”

Asmodeus: “As punishment for trying to steal it!”

Mammon: “Fine.”

MC: “Oh, hey Asmo. Where are you going?”

Asmodeus: “My necklace!”

MC: “What!?”

Mammon: “His necklace!”

MC: “…okay then. I think I’ll get a second beer in case…”

Lucifer: “You’re a lightweight we’ll start you small. You’re in front of Diavolo and Luke remember?”

MC: “Right. Can’t embarrass myself in front of him, that’d be a nightmare. You’re used to it though so you can have my beer instead.”

Lucifer: “Hold on a minute?”

MC: “The lights are blinking we need to head back.”

Solomon: “Welcome back you two.”

MC: “Where did everyone else go?”

Solomon: “They weren’t interested in hearing about Asmo’s escapades.”

MC: “Oh. So are the cops gone?”

Solomon: “They are somewhere.”

MC: “Not here though?”

Solomon: “Not those two, no.”

MC: “Okay good. I didn’t see any on the way to the drinks either.”

Solomon: “I see. It must’ve calmed down then.”

Lucifer: “Finally. I don’t want to have to deal with anything else tonight, that fiasco earlier was enough.”

MC: “Yeah. They really thought Levi was trying to trap me too.”

Lucifer: “Hehe, Levi?”

MC: “The officer guy out front was really worried about me, I didn’t mean to scare him. He gave me a line to call if I needed help, Levi took the card to look up what it was and now he’s suspicious. …Where did he go anyway?”

Leviathan: “I’ve been here the entire time, how could you not notice me?”

MC: “What? You didn’t leave when Asmo was talking about…stuff?”

Leviathan: “Did he say something weird? I had my headphones on.”

MC: “Nope…”

MC: “Okay, so everyone’s here except for Mammon and Asmodeus…”

Luke: “No! Mammon has to see the end of the play! It’s really important.”

MC: “Luke I hate to break it to you but this play isn’t gonna set him straight.”

Luke: “Aww.”

Satan: “It was getting to him though.”

MC: “We can show him the movie.”

Luke: “There’s a movie?”

MC: “Yeah, we can watch it together later if you want.”

Luke: “Yeah!”

The countdown projected onto the curtains stopped and the theatre went dark. Murmurs turned to whispers and all was quiet as the story resumed.

Meanwhile, downstairs Asmo and Mammon were scrambling.

Mammon: “It’s stupid dark down here.”

Asmodeus: “Ugh I know! We have nocturnal vision why is it still so dark!?”

Mammon: “Do we have nocturnal vision? Did we ever get that…?”

Asmodeus: “Umm, I think we do?”

Mammon: “What is this place anyway? Buncha giant—aaaaah!”

MC: “Did you guys hear a scream just now?”

Lucifer: “…”

MC: “Never mind.”

[The Ghost of Christmas Present shows Scrooge his assistant spending time with his family and crippled young son, Tiny Tim. Even Scrooge’s heart is warmed by the young boy.]

[He is then zipped to his nephew’s Christmas party. The bright home is full of giant presents and fancifully dressed guests and Scrooge begs to stay. As the day continues the ghost begins to age.]

Luke: “Ew, how did they do that with his face?”

Simeon: “Makeup?”

Satan: “I think it’s a trick of the light?”

MC: “He looks like he’s melting. Solomon, you’re so far past that stage of life.”

Solomon: “Haha, you have no proof.”

Asmodeus: “Mammon you gave me a heart attack!”

Mammon: “Th-Th-That thing…”

Asmodeus: “Huh? Ooooh, it’s the Grim Reaper, looks like a giant costume that someone stands in like a puppet! How neat!”

Mammon: “Wait? Are we in the prop room?”

Sounds of squeaking wheels echo in the room as something large is being moved.

Staff A: “Get the reaper prop ready! And dim the lights just a little, we don’t want the audience to see anything!”

Staff B: “On it! Casey come help me with this thing.”

Mammon: “Shit! Hide!”

Asmodeus: “Shh! Be quiet! What are we supposed to hide in, they’re gonna turn the lights back on.”

Mammon: “This thing, there’s a door!”

Asmodeus: “Hurry, hurry!”

Staff B: “Did you hear something?”

Staff C: “Maybe it was a ghost?”

Mammon: “G-ghost?”

Asmodeus: “I cannot believe you’re my brother, they’re talking about us, dimwit.”

[The ghost of Christmas present reveals two small deformed children, Want and Ignorance.]

MC: “Damn he just defined my whole generation.”

[The ghost laughs as he dies and fades into nothing.]

MC: “Yeah, that’s still really accurate to my generation…”

Luke: “That was amazing!”

Beelzebub: “That’s pretty sad…”

Simeon: “You have such a kind heart Beelzebub.”

Beelzebub: “He was so big. Like jelly.”

Luke: “Huh? Did you think he looked tasty!?”

[As the second ghost disappears Scrooge recoils as the third ghost confronts him looking like a grim reaper.]

[Scrooge is taken by the Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come through several scenes of people talking about and celebrating a man’s death.]

[Two men discuss the riches he left behind.]

[Others trade and sell the man’s things.]

[A couple rejoices that their cruel creditor is dead.]

[Scrooge begs to know the name of the dead man and is faced with his own gravestone. Scrooge pleads for his fate to be changed and promises to renounce his greedy, uncaring ways and finds himself back in his bed Christmas morning.]

Luke looked relieved unsure how this was going to play out and Diavolo smiled at the turn of events despite having seen this play before.

You grinned and held his hand choosing to relax but that was quickly changed.

Staff B: “This box is a lot heavier than I remember?”

Staff C: “Didn’t they put the toys in here or some kinda confetti canon?”

Staff B: “Oh yeah.”

Mammon: “…”

Asmodeus: “…Mammon.”

Mammon: “Yep…we’re dead.”

[Scrooge attends his Nephew’s party full of giant gifts and is welcomed inside.]

Scrooge: “I’m here… If you’ll have me.”

Nephew: “Uncle! I told them you would come!”

Nephew: “Come in! Come in! Martha the present!”

[The present burst open with confetti and a loud scream.]

Lucifer: “…”

Diavolo: “…”

Satan: “…”

Barbatos: “…”

Solomon: “…”

Simeon: “…”

Belphegor: “…”

Beelzebub: *munch* *munch*

Leviathan: “…”

Luke: “Huh!?”

Mammon: “…”

Asmodeus: “…”

Actors: “…”

Lucifer: “Hehe…hehehehe…”

Diavolo: “Oh dear.”

MC: “Umm…Lucifer…”

Solomon: “Where do you suppose he’s going.”

Diavolo: “…This isn’t going to go well…”

Mammon: “What do we do?”

Asmodeus: “Start singing?”

Without prompt, Mammon and Asmo begin trying to sing a carol in unison.

Nephew: “My it appears a few of my guests had a bit too much to drink.”

Scrooge: “You see them too?”

Nephew: “Why of course? You didn’t think you were seeing things now did you uncle? Besides I need not see them, it’s impossible to not hear such a ratchety sound.”

Mammon: “Ratchedy!? I’ll show you!”

Asmodeus: “Sweetie you were so off-tune, calm down!”

Scrooge: “Who’s that at the door?”

Nephew: “My, I don’t believe we’re expecting more guests. Perhaps carolers have graced our manor today to make up for this awful intrusion.”

Diavolo: “…”

Belphegor: “…”

Barbatos: “…”

MC: “Yep, he’s drunk.”

Dressed in the style of the cast, something he no doubt stole from another unfortunate actor lucifer walked into the scene like he belonged there.

Lucifer: “Pardon me good sirs I’ve come to collect a few uninvited guests I believe they mixed up the addresses on the invitations I sent out.”

Nephew: “Yes, please do collect your friends, I’m afraid they’re in quite the state given how horribly they’re dressed.”

Asmodeus: *gasp* “You did not just say that to me!”

Mammon: “Here we go.”

Asmodeus: “I AM fashion! You filthy peasants should be honored to lay your eyes upon me.”

Mammon: “On three?”

Lucifer: “Up you go!”

Asmodeus: “Hey don’t you dare carry me away like some drunk! I don’t care who these people are pretending to be they do not get to critique my style when they’re dressed like British hobos from the 16th century! I would know! I was there!”

The audience claps as Lucifer and Mammon carry Asmodeus off stage.

Previous • Next

[icelogged]

*2015 voice* i wish i had the chillness instead i got the mental illness

[none-tadashi-left-hiro]

can you guys all please actually actually be so kind to each other and I mean it tangibly like stop being a coward about what you’ll lose cause it doesn’t fucking matter more than being kind and you know it just fucking do what you can we’ve already lost so much what is the fucking cost of being kind to you anymore. people are so fucking desensitized to their own bullshit they’re dealing with like they’re so casual and blaise and ignorant about things that even harm them directly like why not at least be kind about it why not at least deal with the bullshit that comes from being kind instead i am so sad abt this why do people have to make it so hard. like I get capitalism and colonialism and whatever plays into people being raised to be unkind but are we that fucking fallible like that really fucking sucks bro

[sunnami]

❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders + lily x reader.

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.” 

You blink. 

“Get the fuck out of my room!” 

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making. 

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls. 

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!” 

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze.  Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!” 

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly. 

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.” 

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.” 

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say. 

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies. 

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”  

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.” 

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—” 

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.” 

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you. 

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”) 

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—” 

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.” 

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?” 

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.” 

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.” 

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home. 

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)  

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that. 

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”) 

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.” 

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze. 

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.” 

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much. 

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile. 

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.” 

“I know.” Harry grins. 

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.” 

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally. 

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.” 

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)  

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow. 

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers. 

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.” 

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.” 

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you. 

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast. 

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.) 

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?” 

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.” 

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you. 

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.” 

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze. 

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.” 

“Oi!” 

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.” 

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.” 

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary. 

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.” 

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”) 

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.” 

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.” 

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!” 

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?” 

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically. 

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name. 

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now. 

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?” 

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.” 

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right? 

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.” 

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily. 

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.” 

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.” 

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable. 

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced. 

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear. 

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.” 

Harry’s eye twitches. 

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.” 

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly. 

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.” 

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?” 

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.” 

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.” 

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.” 

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading. 

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands. 

“In your dreams!” You shrill. 

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.” 

Harry nods. “Is it time already?” 

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.” 

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?” 

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?” 

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.” 

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?” 

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?” 

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat. 

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.” 

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this. 

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes. 

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.” 

“One date, then.” 

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?” 

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.” 

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.” 

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you. 

“And I want to—” 

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.” 

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—” 

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.  

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration. 

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases. 

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words. 

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.” 

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.” 

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.) 

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance. 

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.” 

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm. 

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.” 

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.” 

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.” 

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth. 

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it. 

He falls in love.) 

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.” 

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?” 

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.” 

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.” 

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.” 

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.” 

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

[tbaluver]

The Love And DeepSpace Men- Boyfriend Headcanons + Scenarios/ Imagines Pt. 2

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader requested: myself bc i craved writing something sweet genre: perhaps tooth rotting fluff fluff warnings: none unless you want cavities a/n: every day i wish they were real and every day i have a lads brain rot and i would gatekeep these ideas but i would never so here ya go ! lmk if i should write more of these ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა enjoy reading ! first part is here if you haven't read it! Pt.1 any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

The type of boyfriend who will finish your food whenever you can't finish it. He'll let you eat his food even when you say you're not hungry or you don't want anything. If the food he gets isn't something you would want, he'll make sure to buy something for you even if you say you don't want it.

You can expect his hand to always sneak into your lap when you lay in bed together after a long day. Gently embracing your lower stomach and whispering sweet nothings into your ear before you both fall asleep.

If you can't sleep, he'll try to join you for midnight snacks and watch whatever's on TV. He's trying his best to stay awake but you can already see him dozing off, clutching the stuffed plushie you won at the arcade.

Scenario:

You two sat on the soft grass, surrounded by a blanket of stars that painted the dark canvas of the night sky, eagerly waiting for the shooting stars to streak by.

"Xavier do you have anything in mind for what you're going to wish for?"

He turns to you, his gaze softening and a gentle smile spreads across his face. "I don't need to wish for anything else if my wish has already come true- I'm looking right at her."

Zayne:

He keeps all the little trinkets you've given him by his nightstand at home and his desk at work. That way when he wakes up you're the first thing on his mind, not that you left his mind in the first place. Each time he glances at them, he's flooded with happy memories and filled with anticipation to return to your embrace.

The type of boyfriend who puts a blanket over you if you fall asleep on the couch and eventually carries you to your shared bed.

Puts a ridiculous amount of sugar in his coffee that kind of leaves you concerned for your lover's sweet tooth.

Scenario 1:

You two lay in bed together, enjoying the lazy morning, not wanting to get up as if doing so would mean the day truly had to begin. You trace the outlines of his bare chest, your fingers dancing over the area where his heart beats.

“What are you doing?” he asks curiously as he watches you glide your fingers gently around his chest.

“Finding your heart and seeing who lives there,”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, a smile curling on his lips. “No one is there right now.”

You frown at his response, a playful pout forming on your lips. He cups your cheek, finding your reaction to be amusing and adorable. “That’s because the owner of my heart is currently right in front of me.”

Scenario 2:

As Zayne rushes to get ready for an emergency call from the hospital, his glasses are perched on top of your head.

“Zayne, aren’t you forgetting something?” you hinted, leaning in for a goodbye kiss.

“Ah yes, thank you.” He retrieves his glasses and you mock a pout. But he leans down, brushing your lips with his with a sweet kiss, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “I love you. Please don’t stay up waiting for me again.”

Rafayel:

Sometimes he can be your boyfriend but sometimes he's also like your child from how much you baby him

He needs to be close to you at all times. The type of boyfriend who is all over you all the time. He needs to be close and touching you at all times. If you got hot from cuddling, he'll have either his hands or legs over your body because if you were apart for more than a second he thinks he might explode.

The boyfriend who stays up making something special for days and stays up overnight just to make it perfect just for you.

The type of boyfriend who adjusts your do not disturb on your phone so only his notification pops up whenever you're on do not disturb.

Imagine swimming in the ocean, you're enveloped in his embrace as you both gaze at the moonlight and stars above. He holds you close, resting his chin gently on the top of your head while you nestle your hand and head against his chest. It’s perfect like this. Just two of you near his homeland, the sea. Just him and you in your own world where you both find peace with the gentle sounds of the waves surrounding you both.

Sylus:

At the beginning of your relationship he redecorates his entire home so that you'll like it more and feel more inclined to stay over and stay the night at his place.

He only has a soft spot for you and only you. You see a side of him no one else does and not just that but his super silly side.

Sometimes he'll lift you onto the counter or lift you up to get what you need on a high shelf just because he wants to hold you.

The type of boyfriend who gets on his knees or sits down to be on the same level as you when you don't want to look up at him anymore. If he was sitting, he's definitely pulling you to his lap because you're not going to be the only one standing!

The type to hold all of your shopping bags and pure for you when you’re out shopping together. He does not complain about holding your purse at all, not that it would ever bother him in the first place. Also does not complain about holding all of your shopping bags, it’s literally light work for him and he would encourage you to buy more things of whatever you wanted.

Imagine after a long night at an auction, you two stumble back into your shared home not breaking the kiss. Your hands rest on Sylus’s neck, slowly sliding down as he murmurs sweet phrases against your lips. His strong arms wrap around your waist as he carries you bridal style, guiding you both toward your shared bedroom.

[monstersflashlight]

Advent calendar: Day 5. Alien discovers Christmas

A/N: This is for all the anons asking me for more Fem x Fem stories, but mainly it's for myself bc I love the idea of a female alien taking me away. Enjoy!

Fem!alien x fem!reader || 69-ing, oral sex, sensory deprivation (blindfolds), soft dom/sub

“What do you mean there’s a big human coming into your house as you sleep!? That’s burglary!” You suppress a laugh, trying not to be mean at her obvious confusion. “How can you be so calm about this? I need to get my weapons, I need to prepare for this big red man that’s going to come and enter our house. I need to protect you,” she was spiraling into a frenzy.

You get up, standing right in front of her, grabbing her face in your hands and making her lean down so you can stare into her completely white eyes as you say: “Hey, hey. Calm down. It’s not a real man, okay? It’s a kid’s tale. An excuse for humans to give each other presents and believe there’s a bit of magic and joy in the world, okay?” She breathes a bit easier after the explanation and you congratulate yourself for a crisis averted. One more point for the human, yay!

“Then you are lying to your young?” She asks, once again confused with what you just said, which is very valid because when you put it like that it does sound a bit weird.

You think about it and let out a chuckle. “Yeah, we kind of are.”

“That seems rude and mean. They are so tiny and weak…” She looks almost disgusted when she says it, as if the mere thought of kids repulses her. You have to hug her and hide your face in her neck to avoid bursting out laughing. She’s so funny without even trying to, you can feel the love you feel for her filling every crevice of your heart.

But then you remember. “Do you want your present now? Normally we don’t open them till morning, but you aren’t human so… We can make our own rules.” Truth be told, you only want her to open the present because the possessive tone and willingness to protect you made you kind of hot. And her present involved a lot of hotness in your future.

“You have a present?” She asks, surprised.

“Oh yeah… A present you are going to love,” you tell her with a smirk. She looks at you and responds with another smirk of her own, her very long and pointy fangs showing and making a tremor run down your back. Fuck, she’s so hot in all her otherworldliness.

“Is that so, my love?” You bet she already knows it’s going to be something sexual, but you don’t care she knows, it’s not a surprise that you enjoy her body as often as possible, you are obsessed with your alien girlfriend. Who could blame you? She’s gorgeous.

You pull away from her body and start taking out her clothes. “Let’s go to our room and I’ll show you…” You take everything and when her pants are around her knees, you exclaim: “Race you!” You know you are playing dirty as she gets out a curse behind you. You laugh all the way to the bedroom.

You make it to the room and she’s there not two seconds later, a trail of clothes in the hallway as she enters the room with a predatory look in her eyes. But that’s not in your plans for tonight.

She’s usually the one in charge, but you want this to be about her. That’s your gift, a whole night pleasuring only her. “Lay down, eyes closed,” you order, trying to be as authoritative as possible (which isn’t much). She lets out a chuckle, making you smile at her as she complies.

Both of you know she could overpower you at any time, her physique so much better than yours. But you also know she’s not going to do it, and that makes you even hotter. It’s exhilarating to know such a powerful alien would surrender all the power and trust to a human like you, it makes your pussy tingle in anticipation of what’s to come.

“I’m going to cover your eyes so you can’t see anything, okay?” She nods, her eyes still closed, her hands pinned to the bed as you caress the sides of her body until she shivers. She’s so pretty you want to scream.

You cover her eyes with the silk ribbon you bought for this special occasion, it has wintery motives and you loved it when you saw it, already picturing it against her pale blue-ish skin. It looks better than you expected against her skin, and you want nothing else but to lean down and kiss her breathless.

So you do. You two kiss until her hands find your ass and she starts groping you. You pull away with a laugh, taking her hands back to the bed. “Nothing of that, this is about you.” She nods in understanding, but you don’t have to see her eyes to know that’s not the end of the discussion. But she doesn’t say anything as you start touching her naked body.

She twitches when your cold fingers find her flower shaped nipples, startled for a second, and you grin in triumph. You travel your fingers down her body, tracing the patters of her war tattoos as she gasps every time you go over one of her sensitive ridges. It’s so hot to see her so pliant and vulnerable, you are dripping wet already.

She speaks up as you kiss the side of her hip, making you stop for a second at her words: “I can smell your desire, my love… Let me do something about it.” The innuendo is clear in her tone and you have to focus really hard not to say yes instantly. You want that so, so bad.

“You aren’t in control today,” you remind her. “This is your present.” You say it for her, but most of all you say it to yourself. This is all about her.

“What better present that to have your sweet cunt over my mouth, riding my face?” Her words send a shiver down your spine, a tiny whine escaping before you can contain it. She chuckles and you curse under your breath, making her laugh harder.

So you play dirty, once again. You open her legs and dip your head. “You are a very cocky alien to be so wet already,” you say as you lean down and lick over her juices. She screams your name as she arches her back, making you feel powerful.

You have no mercy when you start using all your tricks to make her lose her mind, your hands cupping her small boobs as you pinch her nipples and use your tongue to play with her opening. Aliens like her don’t have a clit, but her pussy is so sensitive she can come over and over just with your tongue (fact that you take advantage of as much as possible).

You get her to come twice before you feel the switch in her body, the way she tenses and your belly fills with anticipation. “Come here,” she says. Her tone already tells you lost, there’s no way she would use that tone if she wasn’t going to take control.

And she does.

She pulls the blindfold off and manhandles you until your pussy is over her face and your face is over her pussy. You’ve never tried 69 before, but as soon as her tongue finds your clit, you are seeing stars and screaming her name until our throat feels raw. Then you remember you are supposed to be returning the favor.

Fuck, it’s so hard to focus when her extra long tongue is hitting your G-spot and her fangs are gracing your clit in a way that feels dangerous but so fucking hot you are about to explode.

“You are too good, fuck, I don’t know if I’ll last,” you warn her as you start moving your hips against her face. She grunts in agreement, her tongue moving faster and her fingers finding your asshole at the same time her other hand flicks one of your nipples.

It takes you less than three seconds to be coming messily around her tongue. But she doesn’t stop there. Of course she doesn’t, she is obsessed with your taste and once she gets her tongue against you, she wouldn’t stop until you’ve come at least five times (which you enjoy greatly), but right now, with her pussy in front of your face, you can’t focus enough.

Fuck.

You can’t let her win this, you promised yourself, this would be about her. It’s her gift. You lean down with renovated vigor as you try to bring her to climax as fast as possible, using all the tricks in your sleeve as she does the same.

Good Goddess. Why does he have to be so fucking good with her tongue?

You keep going, using your fingers to touch the soft area right below her opening, the part of her that makes her scream and thrash around the bed every time you use your special dildo with her. She gasps around your clit, two of her fingers inside of your cunt, rubbing your G-spot until your eyes black out and you come messily once again.

She continues her orgasms quest as you renovate your efforts, which are rewarded when two seconds later she screams against your pussy and you feel the gush of fluid coming out of her. You lap at it like it’s the best meal possible, and she thrashes under you, almost throwing you off her body, but you hold tight as you start finger her.

Her voice is hoarse, but she keeps fucking you with two fingers, his thumb against your asshole, and when she enters your back door, you scream and something inside of you breaks. You feel the gush of squirt all over her as she gasps and stops moving, as surprised as you.

You both are breathing fast and hard by the time you stop coming. She turns your limp body around and stares at your face. She looks so fucked out, all wet and glassy eyed, you have to moan.

“I didn’t know you could do that, my love,” she says. There’s amazement in her voice, and you feel almost embarrassed. The pillows are soaked, her face and hair, too. Fuck. You didn’t even know you were a squirter.

“I didn’t know I could,” you answer truthfully, resting your head against her chest, listening to the melodic rhythm of her three hearts.

“I guess it’s a big man miracle,” she blurts out, making you laugh until your stomach hurts.

“A Christmas miracle, not a big man miracle,” you correct, your laughter making it hard for you to form words. When you calm down enough, you look up at her with soft eyes and ask: “Did you like your present?” There’s an edge of vulnerability in your voice.

She doesn’t disappoint, answering you with every ounce of sexiness she has. “Oh yes… I very much liked it. I’m going to get you doing that as soon as you recover,” she tells you, kissing your head and making you moan at the possibilities.

Best holidays ever.

[shootingstar-scuderia]

shoot an arrow through my heart

max verstappen x reader

there's something you need to hear max say, but you're not sure if he's actually going to say it. you do know one thing though, it was always gonna be you and max.

a/n: started this longer ago than i'd like to admit but here we are! a big thank you to my fave beta reader K and to @scuderiahoney who helped me figure out all the banner image stuff. based on prompt #966 from this list.

masterlist

It starts with Lando. Because doesn’t it always? 

Lando says shit he doesn’t mean, Lando says things just for the sake of saying them. Lando says things as if they are fundamentally truths when they are in fact are lies.

And so, one moment you’re hanging out with Lando, letting him talk you down from buying the little trinket of the week you’ve fixated on, and the next he’s saying that Max is in love with you, saying it like it’s a truth, and then moving on as if he hasn’t just tilted your world on its axis.

And then, before you know it, you’re banging on Max’s front door trying to figure out if it’s true or not. 

Trying to figure out if your best friend is in love with you.

“Max! Open the door.”

He doesn’t.

You honestly don’t know if you want him to, or what you’re going to do when he does. Or if he even will, Max doesn’t know you’re here and you don’t even know if he’s home.

You’re just about ready to search for the spare key, the one you told him to hide in the firehose down the hallway because having a fake rock in front of his door makes no sense when he lives in an apartment building, when the door is flung open and a very grumpy looking Max, headset in hand, is giving you just about the most fed-up, unimpressed, stare you’ve seen in your life.

“Are you in love with me?” You can’t help it, the words foreign on your tongue but there’s an urgency to get them out and into the space in between you. You’re so desperate to hear him say it back.

Max blinks at you, bewildered at your words. You can see the gears turning in his head trying to work out what you just said and if you’re being honest you don’t know if you should be offended at the fact that the answer isn’t an immediate yes.

His brow furrows and his lips purse, “what?”

A beat passes, and then another, and then the idiot actually has the audacity to close the door.

You roll your eyes, even if he can’t see it you know that he knows that you’re doing it. As you push the exasperation out of your lungs you knock again.

“Max, nuh-uh, that is not going to work, open the door and answer my question.”

Nothing.

You bang your fist on the door one more time for good measure, “Max, you know I know where your spare key is and we both know that I’ll let myself in if necessary.”

It’s true and he knows it. 

There have been many nights where you’ve verged on the edge of too far gone and walked from the club to his apartment. Nights where you didn’t want the fun to end so instead of going home you go to Max’s where you can cuddle and coo at Jimmy and Sassy and sit around in comfy clothes and watch as Max putters around doing whatever it was he was doing before you came over.

It’s true. He knows it. But still, he doesn’t open the door.

You sigh and softly thump your forehead against Max’s front door, through the absence of your knocking you can hear his nervous shuffling on the other side. The inquisitive meows from the cats, the faint scrape of the peephole cover as Max checks to see if you’re still there, if you’re still waiting for him. 

You would wait for him for forever, but that’s just for you to know really.

Max opens the door again, just the barest amount. Just enough so his eyes, wide and disbelieving can lock onto yours. 

They’re so blue, you don’t know how you never noticed it before, so classically storybook blue that you’re really starting to wonder if this is all some kind of weird dream where you’re standing at his doorstep begging to be loved by him, like some kind of cheesy romcom star. Because after all, aren’t you just a girl standing in front of a guy?

“You’re in love with me.”

The words stretch the impossible distance between the two of you. Even when he’s halfway around the globe he’s never felt this far away.

And still, somehow, you feel too close to him. Like somehow all the other versions of you and him have been false proxies to what you’re reaching for right now. Like all of a sudden, somehow, he’s been molded into your every contour of your soul and you don’t want anything else

The door edges open a little wider.

“Are you asking me that or are you telling me?”

He’s stalling, you both know it. But, you can’t really bring yourself to do more than give him a fondly smile and roll your eyes at him. Because you know, if the roles were reversed, if he was the one throwing pebbles like some kind of suave Dutch romeo, demanding to know if you were in love with him, you would be doing the same thing.

“You and I both know how much you like being told what to do.” With a sigh Max opens the door to his apartment a little wider once more to let you in, “and yet, you’re still here telling me to open my door.”

You can’t really fault him for that one can you?

You make your way to the living room where you settle down on your spot on the couch while Max flits around the living room. Sassy is meowing at Max, desperate for a taste of the outside she only ever gets when the front door opens, and even though he knows she’s not going to make a run for it he still takes the time to half-heartedly shoo her away.

Max does this, dragging his feet, until both of the cats have curled up next to you on the couch and it is only then that he makes his way over to you. Coming to stand behind the armrest on his side of the couch, putting a little too much distance between the two of you for you to not feel spurned by him.

You can hear it in silence between you, you can feel it in the way your body seems to ache from having him in the ways you have him now and not in the ways you want to have him.

You’re not ready to have this conversation.

There’s a part of you that almost wants to say nevermind and forget that you even said anything in the first place. But deep down you know that the two of you have been putting on this elaborate dog and pony show for far too long. You’re only delaying the inevitable.

“So,” you say, nervously running your fingers over the fabric of the couch. “Is it true?”

You try to catch his eye as you say it, not only to try to make sure he doesn't chicken out but to see the reaction he gives. You want to see his soul and know that he means whatever he says.

But Max doges your gaze at every move in a way that makes him look like a kicked puppy. And you’re not really sure what it means but you can feel the way the dynamic has shifted. All of a sudden the two of you are on shaky ground, not sure where you stand with each other. Even though two hours earlier you would have called him your best friend with your entire heart.

“Well?”

“Please,” he says your name, strained and with a weight to it that you don’t quite want to acknowledge, “don’t make me say it.”

You’re not above begging, you really aren’t, but something about the way he sounds makes you falter. Just a little.

“Max,” you say his name softly, “I think you and I both know what your answer is going to be.”

“Then why do you need to hear it so bad?” His words bite, tinged with an anger that you know he doesn't really mean. “So, I can say it back!” Your words match the sharpness in his and you can see how much they throw Max off kilter.

He blinks at you and then rocks on his feet, first a step forward and then a step back like he’s blown away by the force of what you said. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you never tell me?”

You cross your arms and shrug your shoulders, “it was a personal issue.”

“You being in love with me kind of also involves me.” 

You really don’t want to admit that he’s right on with that one.

You huff and shrug your shoulders again, “well it goes both ways, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I asked first,” Max shoots back.

You groan at his response and launch yourself up towards Max in a play attempt to strangle him. “Argh, you’re so!” You drape your arms over his shoulders as you slump against him, head resting in the spot where his shoulder meets his neck, “God I hate you.”

Max laughs underneath you, his arms coming up to wrap around your waist, “you evidently don’t.”

“You're so silly,” you sigh, tilting your head up to look at him. "You want to hear me say it so bad."

Your nose nearly brushes against his, he’s so close you think you could count every single one of his eyelashes if you tried.

Max makes a noise that’s somewhere between exasperated and surprised and you know that you’re toeing the line with your teasing

You always know when to give in when it comes to him.

“Okay, yes, I love you! I love you,” you say, “do you love me?”

“Yeah, I do,” Max says as he moves to cradles your jaw in his hands. “I love you.”

You grin, “good. Now kiss me please.”

And he does. He does and it feels like all the cliche things people say. It feels like coming home, it feels like fireworks are going off in the background, it feels like you were meant to be, that he was made for you just as much as you were made for him.

And you just know. You know that there can never be anyone else but him. That there was a version of you before Max and now there’s going to be a version of you that’s with Max, but there’s never going to be a you after Max.

“I love you.” Softer, quieter this time.

You don’t dare look him in the eye, instead choosing to press your cheek against his and stare out the window of his apartment. Your gaze settles somewhere in the distance as you try to memorize the feel of his body pressed up against yours.

You curl your fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging absentmindedly as you say, “I’m glad that worked out, I didn’t even know you were home.”

He pulls away from you to fix you with a look that is so quintessentially Max, “you have my location on your phone, you’re always stalking me,” he says, punctuating his words with little jabs to your shoulder.

It’s true, and you honestly don’t know why you didn’t try to check his location in the first place, your logic getting lost somewhere in the panic of knowing that he loved you. 

“Mhmm.” You shrug noncommittally, trying very hard to ignore the rushing feeling of warmth in your chest that comes with the realization that Max was so ingrained in your life and you in his from the start. 

You try not to think about the fact your toothbrush sits next to his in his bathroom, about the fact that your hand automatically gravitates to his favorite spoon in your cutlery drawer, the one you can identify solely based on the weight of it in your hand. You try very hard to think about how you couldn’t separate the love from the friendship.

It was always gonna be you and Max. 

There’s a silence between you for a moment. You try to match your breath to his and let the sounds of outside filter through your ears. And for a moment you can hear how the rest of the world keeps turning, even when your world has stopped spinning on its axis.

“So, what now?” Max asks, turning his head to press kisses to your hairline, his hand squeezing your waist. You can feel his nose brush against your temple as he makes his way down, lips featherlight on your skin. The intimacy of it makes your blood sing with electricity. 

You pull “Mhmm, you could take me to bed?”

It’s half serious, half a joke. You’ve waited so long to have Max like this that now that you finally do you want him in all ways possible. But still, there’s some young and girlish part of you that wants it to be special.

Max pretends to think about it for a little bit and it’s so impossibly silly that you have to resist the urge to strangle him again for it, “it’s three in the afternoon, I think it’s a little early for sleep.”

“You know that’s not what I mean, stop being a smartass.”

Max smiles, taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers together. “Well,” he says, “how about I send you home so you can get all nice and pretty for me and then I’ll come pick you up and take you to a nice dinner, hmm?”

You flush, not just from the way he pours honey, slow and sweet, into your ear, but from the way it feels like this was always meant to be. Like you were always meant to have this, always meant to have him. 

“And then,” he says, dropping your hand to pull you in by your belt loops so your hips are press flush against his, “after dinner, that’s when I’ll take you to bed.”

[cheqorb]

Sotto Voce.

Gaslighting everyone into believing you’re a really shit footballer because seeing people be impressed by your sheer lack of skill is more fun than being a genius.

FEAT. Bastard München ensemble

NOTES. uhhaua cross posted on ao3 (same user) but ajyway, thought this idea was funny and because of this lingering feeling of sadness i haha managed to Complete this?? Gosh im beside myself with worry!!

WORD COUNT. 2.2k

Isagi thinks he might be seeing things. Maybe all the relentless training in Blue Lock has finally caught up to him, leading him into a football-induced delirium, because he can’t quite comprehend what he’s looking at right now.

You’re moving across the field with a fluidity he’s only seen in pro-level players, doing tricks and turns he’s pretty sure aren’t even in his playbook. You glide past the defence, controlling the ball with a finesse that’s nearly supernatural — hell, he thinks even someone of Rin’s calibre would be breaking a sweat to try and keep up.

And you look bored while doing it. Eyes half-lidded, posture almost lazy, as if this is just another walk in the park and not you showing off world-class football technique.

Isagi’s mind races to make sense of this. You’d always been, well, normal to him.

Sometimes you’d play in a match, most other times you’d sit out on the sidelines. And he’s usually pretty sharp about these things, so it must’ve been because you just… didn’t stand out.

Yet here you are, pulling off flawless plays with little more than a mild yawn, as if winning against the top players here would barely register on your radar. Maybe it’s just luck, some freakish one-off, right?

… Nope. You just drilled another perfect goal into the top corner of the net.

He snaps out of his thoughts only when you suddenly stop mid-play, and his eyes meet yours. For a second, there’s a flicker of panic in your gaze and he opens his mouth, not even sure what he’s about to say.

“Y/N-”

You’re stomping towards him before he can even process the whole thing, your pace quicker and more full of menace than he’s used to seeing on you. You stop just short of him, tilt your head slightly, and in the calmest voice, say, “You saw nothing.”

He tries to stammer out something, but you leave soon afterwards.

���───

Tripping over the ball is harder than it looks, but after enough practice, you’ve perfected the art of falling in a normal fashion. To most people, it’s convincing. Prior to a few days ago, you’d say all people but there’s a certain someone who entertains himself by boring holes into the back of your skull with an intense, unblinking stare.

You can feel it. Isagi waiting for you to slip up.

Actually slip up, instead of the falls you’ve gotten so good at imitating. It’s detestable, honestly. You’re trying to keep things as they’ve always been, and he just wants to come in and mess with the status quo!

Luckily for you, Igaguri’s too much of an idiot to harbour the same suspicions. Right now he’s too busy practically doubling over with laughter on the floor. The guy is probably thrilled to finally see someone playing the fool even more than he does. And as much as he’s a pain, he’s also the kind of person who makes perfect cover — play the role of an idiot, laugh it off with him, and everyone’s none the wiser.

So, in spite of your (what most would call) vindictive description of him, you do believe that some sort of strange pleasure is to be gained from surrounding yourself with people like him. Though perhaps that also makes you a terrible person.

The feeling is nothing like the rationale that Noa preaches about so often. It’s an undeniable truth in your heart.

Which is why you avoid the people who actually know what they’re doing on the field like the plague.

Yukimiya, on the other hand, is way too polite to laugh outright. He at least has the common sense to stifle it, reaching out a hand to help you off the ground with a quiet charm that makes people swoon. No wonder he’s a model.

Now, the imaginary audience in your mind might be wondering why you’re talking with a guy like him? Your answer: he’s not as notable ever since he patched things up with Isagi. He’s now the kind of person you can talk to without raising any brows. Again, it sounds harsh but you see it in a positive light. He’s becoming just the kind of person you adore most!

“Try and keep a close eye for stuff on the ground, alright?”

You flash him a grin, nodding. “You know me, just a total klutz all the time,” you reply as your usual happy-go-lucky self, making sure to project just loud enough for Isagi to hear.

And out of the corner of your eye, you catch that familiar look of suspicion deepening.

────

The silence that follows is brutal. Hiori and Kurona exchange a look that’s way too long for Isagi’s comfort. After finishing whatever telepathic debate they have with each other, they both stare back at him like he’s just pitched the most psychotic theory imaginable (which isn’t entirely untrue).

“You don’t believe me, do you?” he mutters, deflating a bit.

Hiori’s quick to reply, but Isagi is aware of the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes. “It’s not that we don’t believe you. But, ya have to admit, it’s strange to hear Y/N… of all people, doing something like that.”

That’s code for what the fuck are you talking about, Isagi concludes with a grimace, his eyes shifting to Kurona hopefully.

“Crazy. Crazy.”

Kurona’s tone is deadpan, his gaze distant as if he’s trying not to laugh. Great.

Isagi sighs heavily, scrubbing a hand over his face. Maybe he is the one who’s going crazy here. It shouldn’t even bother him this much. It’s not like you’re particularly close! If anything, he can barely remember a conversation between the two of you that went beyond asking if you’d seen so and so.

And, judging by the responses he’s getting from both of his teammates, neither of them can figure out why he’s fixated on this either.

────

Noa is going on and on about practice drills, how to follow his instructions precisely, something about rationality and technique, blah, blah, blah. You stifle a yawn. If this is what being in one of the top clubs means, you should’ve begged Ego to be in Barcha instead. At least Lavinho would’ve been fun.

You hear his coaching style isn’t by any means phenomenal if you’re trying to improve your skills, but good thing you’re not planning on doing anything of the sort!

And just when you think you might actually pass out from boredom, you see Isagi walking over. Again. He’s approaching with that same cautious look, but it’s not enough to make him think twice about bothering you apparently. That’s also something that bugs you, he’s never a quitter.

You flash him an oblivious smile. “Oh, Isagi! Whatcha up to? Need anything from little ol’ me?”

You lay it on thick, voice dripping with cheerful innocence. His jaw tightens, and for a second, you swear you can see a flicker of annoyance on his face. That’s new. Your words have the opposite effect than what you had originally intended.

“Listen, I know what I saw, alright? You’re not fooling anyone.”

He launches into a whole spiel about how he’s seen you pull off moves that only high-level players can pull off, how he doesn’t care if it’s part of some large game you’re playing, how you should be using your skill to distinguish yourself.

…You really don’t give a shit, and in regards to his comments, you personally disagree! What’s the fun in doing all of that?

You tilt your head, pretending to think it over with wide, guileless eyes. Sure, you’re a little flattered he’s this invested in uncovering your “secret,” but the other 99% of you is totally unhappy.

When he finally wraps up his little speech, you just give him a half-hearted shrug with a smugness that he doesn’t miss.

“And who’s going to believe you?”

────

Kaiser likes to think of Isagi as predictable, average — someone who might fancy himself a hero but is ultimately just another small-time player waiting to be crushed. It’s almost laughable how seriously he takes himself. In fact, the only thing remotely worth mentioning about him recently is this bizarre fixation he seems to have developed on you.

He’s overheard your exchanges, and in short, they’re pathetic.

Isagi rambles on about how you’re hiding something, clinging to that delusion like it’s going to benefit him somehow. The psychology-lover inside him finds it almost fascinating in how utterly absurd it sounds.

So, when Kaiser spots you chatting with the ever despairing Grim (laughing so hard you have to hold back tears), he figures it wouldn’t be wrong to call you at least a little insane. Part of him wonders what humour could be found in the man’s deplorable monologues.

He figures he might as well join in on the entertainment. You’re far from his usual company, but you’ll do. For now. Moseying on over, his signature smirk is already in place.

He’s rewarded by the way your eyes immediately narrow in irritation, a look he’s all too familiar with and thoroughly enjoys on anyone really. Grim, blissfully unaware of what he’s leaving you to, heads off, and now it’s just you and Kaiser.

Leaning in closer, he asks, “What little secret of yours has got under Yoichi’s skin so badly?”

Kaiser waits, watching for the faintest flicker of reaction but you stay silent. How boring.

But! Not one to give up easily, he continues with a more direct jab, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. The one where he acts like he knows everything there is to know about everyone. “That you’re really skilled, and this whole clueless act of yours is just a cheap facade?”

He raises a brow, as if daring you to admit it. To his delight, you lift your head, finally meeting his gaze albeit with an uncomfortably polite smile.

“I was just surprised you’re interested in something like that. But, Isagi’s a total liar. Isn’t he just so annoying? I can’t stand people who just don’t know when to give up, and I’m sure you agree.”

It’s not often someone catches him off-guard, and though he recovers quickly, the flicker of surprise is still there. Kaiser also sees opportunity however. He could work with this.

“Well, if you’re not a fan of Yoichi then feel free to join my side then,” he drawls, offering the position like it’s a dream come true. In his world, he’s already the star; what better way to elevate himself than to recruit someone.

“Ah, no. You’re both terrible.”

He can’t tell what’s worse; you lumping him together with Isagi, or the fact that you immediately walk off without giving him a chance to get the last word in.

────

“It’s like asking me if I prefer cat shit or dog shit. It’s still shit, and there’s no point in picking one over the other.”

You toss the comparison out to Kiyora, of all people — a bit of a waste since he just stares blankly at you, not saying a word. Pretty cute, actually, in a clueless sort of way.

The reality is that, at the moment, if you want a shot at the regulars, you’re supposed to cosy up to either Isagi or Kaiser. And as for everyone else? They’re can either fuck off or pray for a miracle.

Of course, you couldn’t care less about making the regulars. But every now and then, you forget there are people around you who do care, people with actual ambitions. Which is why you pause when you catch sight of Hiori and Kurona.

“Oh, Hiori and Kurona,” you point out the obvious.

They both glance your way, casual and relaxed, which gives you the impression that Isagi hasn’t roped them into his latest paranoid theories. Yet.

“Are ya heading back to training already?” Hiori asks, his soft voice and accent making it sound more like an invitation than a question. There’s a kindness to it that’s almost unsettling here in Blue Lock, but you return his smile with one of your own nevertheless.

Kiyora gives a small nod. “Yeah,” he says, brief and to the point.

You’re half-considering some excuse to slip away and do your own thing, but there’s something about the way Hiori is looking at you that draws your attention. Unlike Isagi, he’s way better at hiding it, but you can still feel his curiosity prickle under your skin.

You give him a lazy smile, leaning into the idea. “I’m already so tired from this morning’s training,” you lie, exaggerating just enough. “Honestly, going to bed early sounds great right about now.”

Morning training was barely enough to get you sweating, just a couple of warm-up drills for the afternoon matches. You doubt they have any clue what you’re talking about, which is exactly how you want it.

There’s a quiet pause, and then Hiori breaks it with a gentle but firm nudge. “Well, if yer looking to get on the regulars consistently, training more could be worth a shot.”

You force a smile that probably looks more akin to a grimace. This is exactly why you don’t like smart people. They poke and prod until your story frays at the edges. He definitely asked that on purpose! With a heavy sigh, you end up walking with them toward the pitch, despite every nerve in you screaming to veer off.

You can’t help but wonder if this is a test.

[shotmrmiller]

Submitting to his dominance part I

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

TW: mean dominant, rough oral

18+ MDNI

WC: 1.5k

Being Johnny’s best friend had its downsides. Like how he essentially forced you into ‘guy talk’. Yeah, sure, you liked women too. But having to listen to him rant about his conquests was going to make you tear your hair out. You liked women, you did, but this buffoon going on about what he liked to do in bed was too much. He was essentially your brother from another mother. Ew.

An hour into his stories, you tell him that if you have to sit through any more of his freaky sexcapades, you might just murder him. And that’s how he brings up Ghost. You’ve met him several times— being Johnny’s residential pest. He was a big motherfucker who always had his face covered. You always were a sucker for the tall, dark, and mysterious type but he always seemed uninterested in everything— including you.

“Ye think I’m a reprobate, hen, ye should hear ‘bout Ghost! He’s the freaky one! Telling the lasses he’s with to kneel and behave or will spank them ‘til they cry. Ghost is a skyrocket, I tell ya!” And that gets your attention. 

“What?” you blurt out. 

“Yeah, hen! He’s into the whole collar and gags— boorish if ye ask me.” 

You could kiss Johnny. Having more than dabbled in the world of BDSM, you knew you could handle many things— maybe even more than what Ghost offered. You bite back an ecstatic smile as Johnny continues with his story-telling, but you aren’t listening anymore.

Unbeknownst to Johnny, he’s just given you a way into Ghost’s trousers.

━

You lounge on the couch as Ghost and Johnny sit around the island drinking. By the sound of Johnny talking in cursive, he’s more than a little sloshed. Then he slaps his hand on the countertop, the sound startling you, and declares how he’s gonna go take a piss. You roll your eyes. Charming.

He stumbles away and then it’s just you two in the living area. This is your only chance. Steeling your nerves, you make your move. 

“Hey. Ghost.” 

He turns his head to the side a little, a cue that he’s listening. 

“I have a proposition for you.” Then stand up and make your way towards him, casually leaning against the island. Ghost looks completely lax, but his eyes sparkle with slight interest. 

Now or never.

You summon your courage and say, “Johnny spoke of you being dominant in bed. I want you to dominate me.” 

He looked at you with a hooded gaze, before scoffing. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, pet.”

That’s not an outright no. This horse isn’t dead yet, so you’re gonna continue to beat it. 

“Said you like to collar your women. Keep them quiet with a gag. I can crawl on my knees if you ask it of me. I’ll speak when spoken to.” 

Ghost’s shoulders are stiff as he stares around your face as if trying to catch a sign of a prank. He inhales and looks like he’s about to shut you down completely but you talk first.

“My safeword is Pelican. I like to be ordered around, spanked, and tied up. I promise to surrender myself completely. I promise to be a good girl for you.”

Ghost sits there, looking at you in complete silence. Your heart pounds in your ears, your cheeks warming in embarrassment. Maybe he’s not interested. Maybe Johnny had been joking. God, you didn’t even think about it being a bloody joke.

You straighten, getting ready to either run away or curl up and die when two big hands grab onto your hips— keeping you in place.

“You want to be dominated, eh?” and pulls you to stand in between his legs.

“I’m not going to be kind,” and tightens his grip on you, “I’m not going to murmur sweet nothings in your ear. I’m going to use you for my pleasure— like my personal sex toy.” 

One hand moves from your waist to grab your hair in a vicious grip and pulls you down to his eye level, close to his masked face.

“Oh, pet. I’m going to ruin you.”

You swallow hard because you know he is and can’t wait but then the sound of the bathroom door opening brings you back into the present. Ghost lets go of your hair and you jump back, putting space between you. 

As you run your fingers through your hair, Johnny stumbles into the kitchen, tripping over a chair. Positively pissed. You move to catch him, putting his arm over your shoulder, yours around his waist to hold him upright.

“Right, Johnny boy, it’s time for bed.” you chuckle at his drunken mumbles.

After tucking him in, you head back to the kitchen. To Ghost. You watch him put his used glass into the sink before crossing his arms and leaning back. Expectantly. As you’re about to walk to him, he holds his hand up in a stopping gesture. 

“No. You’re gonna be a good girl f’me, remember?” he cocks his head to the side, and with finality in this tone says, “Crawl.”

Oh. Your heart is about to burst out of your chest. It starts now. Your reaction is visceral— dropping to your knees so hard they’ll be bruised tomorrow. Holding eye contact, you slowly drag your body towards him. One hand forward, then a leg. Repeat. 

Reaching his feet, you keep your palms flat on Johnny’s wooden floor and arch your back to look up at Ghost with wide eyes. He looks cool, indifferent. But the bulge in his jeans tells you otherwise. 

You wait for him patiently, continuously holding eye contact and it feels like an hour has passed before he talks. Commands.

“Take my cock out.” 

Your thighs tremble in anticipation, your pussy throbbing at his words. Hands to his waist, you can’t unbuckle his belt fast enough. You hook your fingers into his pants and pull hard enough that you hear a seam unstitch. That earns you a slap across the cheek, hard enough to sting. 

“Careful.” You wish you could say it was a reprimand but the feel of his calloused fingers on the soft skin of your cheeks sends a jolt straight to your cunt. 

Pants down, you stare at his cock. It’s a goddamn sight. Long and so very thick, heavy enough that even erect, it bends downward— foreskin covers half of the head and balls hang low. A masterpiece. 

Another slap to your cheek snaps you out of your adoration. 

“Open your mouth, pet.” 

He tastes of salt and his musk. You could sit here with him in your mouth forever. You go as deep as you can take him and he hisses when you hold him there until you gag and pull back— getting the stringy saliva from the back of your throat onto his cock. Flattening your tongue, you start to bob on his length until he’s properly wet. 

Ghost puts his hand on your head and begins to rock his hips and you start to add a twist with your head on every thrust. Soon, you feel him leaking more salty precum and know he’s close so you start sucking— cheeks sinking in. His thrusts start to get harsher and sloppier and the noises coming from your throat as he fucks it is sinful.

His grip shifts from your head to your hair and you put your hands on his thighs— digging your nails into his skin and he growls out, “That’s it. Come on, pet, you can take it.” 

Then there’s salty blooming on your tongue, cum leaking from the corners of your mouth because there’s simply no more room with his cock in it— dripping down your chin and onto the floor. It’s completely silent apart from Ghost’s stuttering breaths and Johnny’s muffled snoring behind his closed door.

Ghost pulls out his softening length and tucks it away, pulling his jeans back up but leaving the belt unbuckled. He then cups your jaw and makes you watch him watch you swallow his cum.

He gives you a light tap on your reddened cheek from his previous slaps and breathily says, “Atta girl. I didn’t even have to tell you what to do.” 

Your knees throb and your thighs burn but his compliment makes every single ache worth it. Any crumb of praise from him, you’ll take. 

He bends down to your kneeled form before saying, “Next week, I’m gonna pass by your flat. Until then, you do not masturbate, you do not come— And I don’t care what you tell Johnny but make sure he doesn’t visit.” and turns to leave. 

Clearing your throat, you croak out, “But you don’t even have my address.” 

Holding the door open, Ghost shrugs. 

“Don’t have to tell me. I know where you live, pet.”  The noise of the door clicking shut echoed through the apartment. With a groan, you put your arse on the floor and slowly extend your knees— hissing at the sharp pain of your knees finally unbending. Ghost is mean. So mean. How does he expect you to not touch yourself when the cum still drying on your chin has you soaking your knickers?

@thychuvaluswife

A/N: ha ha! hes a lean mean machine! i had way too much fun writing this i need help

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

The Fun Kind of Sparring

Soldier Boy (The Boys) x Reader

Minors do ¡NOT! interact. This is not for you.

A/N: I haven’t seen the Boys and won’t BUTT that finale, amirite??? So in honor of the glorious return of Jensen Ackles, maybe the finest man who’s ever existed- seriously, when the aliens invade, show them him and they’ll be besotted by his beauty- I wrote this for all y’all SB lovers. Just note that I do not endorse any of this man’s actions, and if you do… the fuck?

I think it goes without saying but this is not my picture, it belongs to EW. (Too tired to make icons 💪)

Anyways, icons by me and all interaction-especially commentary- is appreciated!

Content/Content Warning: straight filth. The mouth on this man is crazy. Diddle that skittle.

****************************************************

It really had just been sparring. A little one on one, if you will. Me and Soldier Boy. Soldier Boy and me.

If it were anyone else, being pinned down to the ground would be the opposite of erotic. It would be annoying, and I’d be flailing around, trying to hit my partner in the balls.

But with Soldier Boy? We’d been skirting around each other since The Boys broke him out. Well, that’s a lie. I’ve been skirting around him, he’s made it more than a little obvious that he’s into me. I don’t know if it’s that he just wants a quick lay or what, but because I’m unfortunately attracted to him, I don’t really care.

Especially right now, when I’m pinned under him on the gym mat.

“Y’know, we shouldn’t do this,” I stall, no meaning behind my words.

“Sure, sweetheart,” he humors me. His lips are mere inches away from mine, his hair falling against my forehead. And I think I’m drunk on the scent of his pungent aftershave.

“I mean, you’re like, what, 103?” I ponder aloud, trying to distract myself from the fact that the Soldier Boy is rested over me in a plank, shirtless. That I can feel his warm breath on my face. That it smells like peppermints.

“104, actually, sweets,” he corrects. He’s had this shot-eating grin plastered on his face since he managed to wrestle me down, because like me, he knows exactly how this is going to end. But unlike me, he’s not remotely hesitant about showing it. And because he’s a jerk, he’s making me make the first move. But I’m not ready quite yet.

“104, right,” I mutter. “Older than my grandpa.”

“Smart girl,” he just goes along with everything I’m saying, letting me stall. The mischievous glint in his emerald colored eyes never ceases.

I nod slowly. “You are a very attractive grandpa,” I state, my tone far away as if I’m talking about him while he isn’t on top of me. Ohhh do I want him on top. You know what I mean.

“Thanks, sugar. But I think I’d prefer ‘Daddy’ if we’re going for the titles,” he says cheekily, still making no moves. I on the other hand am blushing the brightest red. Between the nicknames and Daddy, it’s too much to handle.

“O-oh,” I stutter, swallowing thickly. “Noted. But, uh, aren’t you more into… more mature women?”

“I believe all women are mature. I don’t discriminate, sweets,” he says, his shit-eating grin somehow eating more shit.

“Very feminist of you,” I say sarcastically.

“Damn straight,” he agrees.

I bite my lower lip. “You’re very experienced, right?”

“Not to toot my own horn or anything, but yes, I’d say so,” I can tell that he can tell that I can tell that this is volatile, just moments from going somewhere.

“Okay, so I guess my last question is this: how would you go about it. Y’know? With someone that you hypothetically wouldn’t treat as someone you paid for? That you’re sort of friends with?” I have to know. I’m too nervous for him not to lay it out plain and simple for me, I need to mentally prepare myself.

“Well, firstly, I think I’d have to know my girl likes it,” he gives me a pointed look.

“Your hypothetical girl,” I correct.

“Sure, my hypothetical girl,” he agrees. How has he not broken a single sweat this entire time? He’s been in a plank over me for the last however long it’s been and it doesn’t even affect him??

Quit getting distracted.

“Maybe she likes it rough. She wants to feel it for a few days,” I suggest, feeling my stomach knot at the notion. I’d been consistently growing wetter since he put me under him, and my arousal shows no signs of stopping.

“Okay, so I’d give it to her rough. Work her up until she’s begging for it… maybe I’ll- I mean, I’d- use my mouth first, taste her pretty pussy before I get my dick wet.” It’s all I can do not to moan at the dirty words falling out of his plush lips. Not to mention his honeyed transatlantic 50s accent… I’m so fucked. In so many ways. “Probably get her to come at least once, cause I’m sure she tastes as sweet as she looks.”

“Uh huh,” I mumble, the sound coming out higher than it should as I look at him with wide, attentive eyes.

“Don’t get me wrong, even before then I’d be marking her up and down. So that way everyone can see who made her feel so good, who got her walking so funny,” he backtracks. And again, the notion is far too good to be true. But the promise in his voice? It’s real. “I’d have to get her ready for my cock, stretch her out with my fingers. Start with one, but she’d be so wet that that wouldn’t even do anything. She’d be begging for more if I just did two, so I’ll give her three, make that needy cunt happy,” he muses. And it’s so, so erotic. And I’m ready to just lean up and kiss him, make him do all the things he says. But I’m captivated by his words, his narration- I think I could come from it alone. “I don’t know if I’d let her come again then. Because I think she’d be begging for my dick with how good my fingers feel stuffed in her tight pussy.”

Mother. Fucking. Hell. Oh. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He shouldn’t be real. These words should be banned from his vocabulary, because I am on fire right now.

“Where do you think this hypothetical girl would want me to come?” he asks out of curiosity, smirking. Probably at the way I’m looking at him like a bitch in heat.

“In her,” I mumble.

“In her where?” he asks smugly, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it.

“Ben,” I whine in protest.

“Oh, c’mon, tell me,” he chides. “For the sake of the story.”

“In my-her-pussy,” I answer in a breathy whisper.

“Good girl,” he praises, and it’s all I can do not to keen. I have to be soaked through my shorts by now, there’s no way. “Well, what I’d do next… that’s simple. I’d fuck her until she cried, and then I’d keep going. And I’d keep going until the only thing she can remember is my name, until she’s gooey and clingy and a sweet little fucked out thing, all for me,” he finishes, his grin from before returning back to his face. I’m losing it. I can’t think straight. And yet- he’s still waiting for me to make the first move. Son of a bitch.

“O-okay,” I clear my throat, unable to find my senses. “And if that hypothetical girl was me?” We both know it’s me, I just need to hear it.

“Well in that case I think I’d be the luckiest bastard who ever lived,” he says sincerely, looking at me with a gaze that can only be described as pure adoration and lust. Yep. That’s it for me. I lean up and kiss him with as much force as I can muster.

****************************************************

In the meantime… want more Soldier Boy?? Try Taming The Supe <3

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

A Changed Future (2) | Yandere Isekai

Part 1

It’s so irritating for Haruko 

He remembers how he used to try and make noise in the beginning, when the same thing happened to him

But even without your struggling, he’s got more obstacles than he thought

“Tch all these guys getting in our way, maybe I should just kill them.”

“Haru no!”

“Why not, I'm sure you did it when I was trapped.”

“That…that doesn’t make it right!”

“So? Who cares about right when we’re in love? I think it was you who said that.”

Either way with or without your approval he’s figuring out a way to take down his newfound rivals

He kind of hopes they are as ambitious as the friends who recently abandoned him

Too bad they aren’t

In the original story, the crazy thing about the protagonist was that despite their obsessive love for Haruko and general disregard for those who got in the way of that was otherwise really inspiring

Breaking away from their elitist family for their violent morals ironic right

Joining the workforce, easily rising because of their work ethic and intelligence

And all that while beautifully evading a less-than-clean detective trying to pin the blame of random crimes on them

Which of course got them their own male leads attempting to pursue their affections

Always doomed to fall short because of circumstance or the protagonist suavely crushing their hopes to gush about their love

It was a uniquely terrible tragedy for their characters to be written this way

That’s what the random reviewers would say

Which is why you did feel inclined to maybe entertain them a bit more than the original protagonist would have ever done

“Since you are quitting….I hope you’ll let me treat you to dinner. For all your hard work of course.”

“Uh sure but I have to be home by sunset.”

“That’s a shame then we’ll have to—Wait. Did you say you would?”

“Yeah, are you okay?”

“YES! Ahem I mean yes I’m fine! I look forward to a nice evening together!”

Unknowingly furthering the obsession the protagonist was barely keeping at bay

“So mind telling me what you ordered that day at the restaurant?”

“I think it was my favorite dish there called the berry delight but I’m not sure. I think they changed the menu since I was there.”

“Why not confirm it later today? That way you can tell me if you did see the missing classmate of yours.”

“But I don’t remember exactly where I sat–”

“Then we’ll just have to sit in every spot until it rings a bell.”

“I don’t know if that’s–”

“Don’t fret. I’ll be paying but there's no way we’ll get to try every table. We’ll have to come back multiple times.”

“Okay…”

“No worries I’m sure you’ll get tired of eating there so we’ll go to some other places to give you a rest. Anywhere you wanted to try?”

You’d be foolish to think you could escape them by agreeing to Haruko’s entrapping of you 

It only takes a day of you not responding to messages that they both eagerly awaiting you at your door

And after the first few times, Haruko shooing them away they begin to get resourceful

“Yeah bud nice try their still out.”

“Hm well say that to my lovely warrant right here.”

“Wait! H-h-hold on! Geez I-i’ll go get them now but they are not going to be happy with you!”

It really doesn’t get better as the guard against the protagonist’s secrets begins to be let down as interested parties slowly make their way in

You don’t have the same ruthlessness or ability to deceive as the protagonist you took over for 

On top of that you never actually read the webtoon so you’ll be left trying to piece together whatever few weak points the protag has

Where if you hadn’t already started to make your pursuers interested all those faults are fuel for their agenda

“It’s so unfortunate that the company can sign off on your absence during this suspicious crime but I don’t mind editing records if you wouldn’t mind spending time with me. That way I can vet your personality myself. Over wine of course!”

It’s overwhelming constantly being pulled in 3 directions 

What’s worse you’re completely oblivious when the latest obstacle in the protag’s perfect life finally makes themselves known

“Hello darling, it took us years to find you but we did it!”

“Don’t look like that come give your Mama a hug!”

Part 3: Coming Soon

[hyunsvngs]

kinktober !

kink: tentacles

pairing: kim seungmin x fem!reader

wc: 2.3k

tentacle kink: a sexual interest in tentacles and the imagined creatures that have them.

It had to work. You would die if it didn’t work.

Then again, you’d probably die if it did work. You’re trying to summon Slenderman, after all. No one would understand why except for you. You’ve always had an affinity for all things macabre and dangerous, and maybe you’re a little messed up. After deep diving on Reddit, you were more than dubious that the creature actually existed. You had to find out. You had to see for yourself.

Clearly not that bad, because you hadn’t gone into the woods like they’d told you to online. The October weather was ultimately too cold to be trekking through branches and fallen leaves, even to try and summon your favourite Creepypasta entity - you did the second option instead, drawing a quick symbol on your wall with marker and all of the lights turned out.

The poem felt a little silly coming from your lips, despite Reddit users insisting it’s mandatory for the summoning. It felt even sillier when you stared at the symbol, barely visible through the moonlight flooding in beyond the curtains, but you had to persevere. If he was real, he’d come to your room and meet you. If he was real.

You ended the poem, finally opening your eyes and sighing. You blinked at the wall, quickly looking around the room. What a load of bullshit. Slenderman isn’t real, then. You’d proved it for yourself, and-

“This is fucking ridiculous,” There was a thud behind you, and you spun around on your bed, hazily trying to see who had joined you in your room. You reached over with a squeak, flicking your lamp on. There, in what almost looked like the Slenderman from your dreams - a man, dressed in a suit and dark, ebony hair pushed back from his forehead. He kicked an imaginary stone with his shoe, shoving his broad hands into his pockets and finally looking up at you. He blinked at you a few times, and then raised an eyebrow. “Why are you scared? Did you not ask for this?”

You huffed. “Well, you’re not Slenderman.”

The man groaned, head rolling back. He cracked his neck effortlessly on both sides, and then stared back into your eyes. His gaze was piercing, dark and feeling all too consuming. “I am- I’m like his brother, but not in the way you humans adhere to. He sends me for cases like yours. Minor, petty things.”

“Cases like mine?” You scoffed, resisting the urge to punch the man in his annoyingly attractive face. He wandered over to your desk, wholly unaffected, and started to flick through your diary. “Hey-!”

“Cases like yours,” He repeated, a small smile flickering on his lips at one of the pages. “Sexually charged cases. You are a little fucked up, aren’t you?”

You bristled. You knew exactly what page he was looking at. Your diary was for mundane things, your day-to-day life, but it was also where you detailed your more… late night fantasies. Recently, some rather obscure things had been taking up the majority of your brain, and maybe that’s what had pushed you to summon Slenderman. You’d never admit that, though.

In all honesty, this guy was kind of hot. You weren’t sure if it was the mysterious atmosphere about him, if he was clearly otherworldly judging from his alabaster skin, or if it was his long legs in those suit trousers. If you were of a different state of mind, you’d have believed he was the entity you were trying to reach. There was just one thing.

“Aren’t you a bit short to be related to Slenderman?”

The man stopped. He sighed, and then shut the diary, before turning to you with one long, accusing finger. “First off, I’m not that short. Secondly, I told you, it’s not the same as what you humans think siblings are. Also, I don’t have to prove myself to you.”

You grinned. “You just tried though, right?”

He rolled his eyes, stalking over to the bed. “I think I’ll kill you sooner than I planned. You’re rude.”

“You’re rude too,” You huffed, trying to kick him in the leg from your position on your bed. Instead of catching it with his hands, a pitch-black tentacle sprouted from his back and wrapped around your ankle, effectively pinning it down and rendering you motionless. You gasped, and he raised an eyebrow. “What the-”

“We do have some similarities,” The man began, drawing the tentacle tighter. “We’re of the same species, for one. I suppose I’m not as prestigious as him, but you seem happy enough to have me here, right?”

You blinked. “I would actually prefer if you left, in all honesty.”

“Can’t,” He shrugged, withdrawing the tentacle. Your ankle flopped back to the bed and you grabbed it instinctively, slightly disappointed to feel no traces of the slimy limb. “I need to kill you. It’s in the rulebook, you know? Once you’ve seen one of us, you have to die, or my mission will fail.”

What were you meant to do in this situation? You didn’t really want to die. You hadn’t thought the whole thing through at all. You’d expected to just see traces of the entity, perhaps catch him from the corner of your eye - you were instead left with a sexy long-limbed man standing in front of your bed, basked in the soft orange glow of your bedside lamp.

“Why kill me when you could fuck me instead?” You’d said the first thing that came to mind. The man’s jaw dropped, before it quickly reverted back to normal, his head tilting to the side in confusion.

“You are pretty weird, aren’t you? Unusual. A little fucked up, like I said.”

“That wasn’t a no,” You hummed. The man’s eyes burnt a trail down your legs, exposed in your sleep shorts, and then his eyes were fixated on a patch of skin revealed on your shoulder from where your shirt had slipped to the side. You scoffed, yanking the shirt back into place. “Oh my God, you want to, don’t you?! That’s why you haven’t left!”

He shrugged. “I’ve never fucked a human. It could be fun.”

You blanched. Okay, you hadn’t expected to get this far. After you had, though… Well, he had tentacles. That was something from your deepest, darkest desires, something that you would try to push to the back of your brain and scrunch your eyes shut tightly with your hand shoved down your pyjama trousers. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. You were already getting wet, clit throbbing with need.

He started to move towards you. First, it was one knee on the bed, and then the other joined, starting a slow crawl that resulted in his face getting closer. You hadn’t realised you were moving closer, too, and you gulped. “What’s- what’s your name?”

The man chuckled, face only inches from yours now. His face looked young, you noticed, yet his eyes held a wildfire inside as if there was so much you didn’t know. There was so much you wanted to know. “Seungmin.”

You had no time to debate it, because his lips were pressing against yours. They were soft, plush, and you found yourself whimpering into his kiss. He’d effectively shut you up. Without a second passing, Seungmin was dominating your mouth, pressing his tongue in and rolling it against yours. How did just a kiss feel so good?

You let him push you back into the sheets, forearms landing on your pillow either side of your head for purchase. He deepened the kiss, his hands moving to tangle in your hair as he held you in place. You felt your pussy flutter, achingly horny despite the lack of stimulation, and your breath caught in your chest. 

Seungmin pulled away and you licked your lips, chest heaving. “I.. can I see them?”

“See what?” He mused, thumb brushing along your lower lip. One look at the amused expression on his face told you that he knew. 

“The…” You gulped, legs parting to allow him closer to you. His bulge was thick, pressing tightly against your core. “The tentacles, Seungmin. Can I see them? How many are there?”

“Four, baby,” He leaned down, nipping at your neck. You gasped, hips bucking up, choosing not to comment on the pet name in your haze of lust. “I can put one in your pussy, one in your asshole and one in your mouth. How’s that? Is that dirty enough for you?”

You whimpered, grinding on his bulge. Seungmin allowed it, hands moving to your hips to aid your movement. It had your sleep shorts slipping around, fabric sticking to the wetness accumulated on your folds. You whined, arms thrashing until they settled around his broad shoulders, still clad in his expensive-looking suit. “What about your cock, Seungmin?”

“My cock?” Seungmin scoffed, running his tongue up your neck. It made you squirm, thighs clenching around his slender waist. His hair tickled your skin, dark and perfect as if he’d spent hours styling it. You knew he hadn’t. “I can fuck you without needing to cum, baby. I doubt I can say the same for you.”

“No, I’ll- I’ll probably cum as soon as you put one in, to be honest,” You admitted, cheeks burning crimson with embarrassment. 

“Hmm, that makes a lot of sense,” Seungmin reached down, yanking your sleeping shorts down. It bared your pussy to the room, cold air hitting your clit and the slick on your pussy. It made you jolt, squeaking as Seungmin saw you in such an intimate way. “You’re wet. Are you feeling impatient? Needy, even?”

“Yes! Yes, God, I need it,” You huffed, spreading your thighs further. You were practically spread eagle now, and you ran your fingertips over the soft expanse of your tummy, just barely visible below your shirt. You continued the journey down your body, looking up at Seungmin with pleading eyes, and then you pressed two fingers into your clit. You flinched, wailing at the stimulation. “Ah, I’m so horny, I’m so horny, what the fuck-”

“Stay still, I’ll give it to you,” Seungmin murmured, and then you caught sight of them again. Four pitch-black tentacles sprouted from his back, seeming to forego his clothes and then one was tickling at your entrance. You moaned, because were they suckers?

It was easy to learn that yes, his tentacles had suckers, and he was now brushing one over your clit. You obediently moved your hands out of the way, back to their position on his shoulders. It sucked onto the swollen bundle of nerves with ease, and just as you started to squirm, another tentacle was pressing into your tight, drippy hole. You could feel the amount of slick you’d gushed beneath you, ruining your bed and quite possibly ruining you for any other man. The appendage itself was lubed, brushing through your own wetness and creating a filthy noise that rang throughout your bedroom.

“Don’t squirm,” Seungmin commanded, hand running up your thigh comfortingly. The tentacle pushed in further, and you clenched, wet, heavy breaths coming from your mouth. “That’s it, good girl. Let it push inside you, just like that.”

The tentacle was narrow at the tip, but it flared much further out after an inch or so. The stretch made your pussy leak even more than what was imaginable. You didn’t think you’d ever been this wet. The appendage was long, but Seungmin kept pushing more and more until you were taking around five inches of it, and you whined, reaching down to press at his stomach.

“Too big, too much,” You protested, but Seungmin shushed you, pressing a kiss into your cheek.

“Your pussy’s just too little, baby. Too tight,” He grunted, and then he pushed another inch in. “Take it. Take it for me, and I might think about giving you my cock later.”

“Your- would you?” Your eyes were teary, toes curling into the bed. “Been good. Tryin’ to take it, ‘s just- it’s so thick, so long. Seungmin, Seungmin, sir, sir, you said you- you’re not gonna kill me?”

“How can I kill such a sweet thing?” His hand moved to your cheek, before moving down, wrapping around your neck. The pressure was light, but very much there, making you moan out into your room. “You’re whining so pretty for me. Calling me sir, taking this just like it’s my cock. You’re dirty. I have to keep you around, don’t I?”

You nodded, legs thrashing on the bed. Your chest heaved, a blotchy pink rash overtaking your skin. “It’s good, it’s so good, so thick, oh- Oh, I think I might…?”

“You think you’re gonna cum?” Seungmin scoffed. “Already? Alright, do it. I’ll let you. Just this once, okay?”

You keened, hands gripping onto his shoulders. Your fingernails must have been digging into him almost painfully, but he didn’t flinch, staring straight at you with the same dark, piercing gaze. Your pussy clenched down, tight and fluttering, and then you were-

You gasped, eyes fluttering open as you attempted to look around your bedroom. The sun had just begun to rise, but your boyfriend was awake, and pulled you into his chest upon seeing your eyes open. 

“Sounded like hell of a dream,” Seungmin smirked, his eyebrow raising. You bit your lip, staring up at him. “Was it about me?”

“Always is,” You mumbled, burying your face in his shirt. He chuckled, shoulders shaking as he rubbed down your back with a tender, broad hand. “It was dirty.”

“Yeah? Another reenactment of how we first met?”

You sighed, brushing your hand down one of his tentacles. It laid bare on your bed, and twitched with approval as you fidgeted with it.

“Yeah, something like that.”

[ad-caelestia]

basic ass witch tips 🔮

[revised post from ~2018 & last edited on 9.29.24]

please note that these are all related to things i have actually seen discussed or mentioned. please do your research before blindly following the advice of someone online, myself included.

if you're on some kind of medication, including but not limited to hormonal birth control, heart medication, and anti-depressants, double check with your healthcare professional/provider [HCP] before you drink that new tea you just bought.

always, always, always tell your HCP before trying any kind of herbal supplement, whether it’s something you made yourself or something you bought at the store.

have a diagnosed medical condition? talk to your HCP before ingesting anything or putting anything on your body that you aren’t familiar with.

don’t. drink. essential. oils. essential oils are not consumable!!!!!

citrus oils can cause photosensitivity, or being sensitive to light and more susceptible to sunburns so be mindful when using these oils on your skin.

if it hasn't been emphasized enough, PLEASE dilute your essential oils before use! common carrier oils are grapeseed, castor, olive, coconut, avocado, almond, etc.

oil and water don't mix, so you would need to use an alcohol based solution with essential oils to dilute them that way (if you plan to use them for a spray or something of that nature).

be mindful of using sprays, incense, powders, etc. that could release particulates into the air around pets or those who have allergies, respiratory issues, etc.

don't involve your pets in your practice in a way that could be harmful to them - no essential oils on them, no crystals in their water bowl, no moon water that's been sitting on your shelf for weeks.

i beg you, please don't put crystals in any uh bodily orifices.

there are some herbs you absolutely cannot burn (or use safely, really) for any reason, so make sure you're educated on all that beforehand; yew, for example, is highly toxic and potentially fatal if consumed or inhaled. the leaves, bark, and seeds contains a chemical called taxine, which is what some of the most hardcore chemotherapies are made from so keep that in the back of your mind.

that being said, please wear gloves and use common sense if you decide to forage for your own herbs or plants. i know that plant identifying apps exist so if you have a smartphone, that might be a good place to start.

putting salt on grass does a couple of things: salt removes moisture from the soil, thus drying out the grass and killing it; and, salt causes chloride to build up in the soil, thus making it toxic which inhibits chlorophyll production, leading the grass to eventually "starve" and die - please don't do this.

don't leave candles unattended - even small ones; it's not a good habit to get into.

also!! crystal balls in direct sunlight can cause a fire so be careful!

more fire stuff - be mindful of the environment and also safety so check for burn bans before you make a fire outdoors.

sterile lancets, not needles or pins. that's all i'm gonna say about that.

don't drink water you collected from anywhere outside unless you plan to properly filter it first.

if you plan to store water for later use (moon water, for example), refrigerate it or set it in a cool, dark place.

distilled water is free of minerals and contaminants so it has a longer shelf life than tap or bottled water - keep this in mind when making charged waters or other potion type things.

fresh herbs or other things of that nature left at room temperature can also grow super harmful bacteria. for example, putting raw garlic in olive oil and leaving it at room temperature will end as a breeding ground for botulism and mold.

be safe out there!

© 2024 𝚊𝚍-𝚌𝚊𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚊

[sareenawails]

ROBIN HOOD HOBIE

YIPPEE OCTOBIE WEEK 3!!

I wanted to make something that looked more realistic and colorful

I'm really proud of myself for this one!

Here's his full outfit

I think I did an ok job at making it feel medieval but I didn't want to lose Hobie's punkness

References

octobie event by @the-kr8tor

banners by @mushroom-graphics-allotment

Robin Hood au

-I voted for medieval theme just cuz I wanted the excuse to draw this lol

-Anyways here’s very bad and lazy plot summary of this hobie au

-English is not my first language so if this is bad please bear with me I'm not a writer for a reason.

-Like the original folklore tale, this is set in medieval England

-Hobie is an outlaw, who with a group of other outlaws called the Merry Band ( originally called merry men but I don't like that soo), steals from the wealthy and gives back to the poor

-He goes by the name Robin Hood to hide his identity( so he’s less easy to track idk)

-Anyways, in this universe Y/N (or an OC whatever you prefer) is part of the royal family or a wealthy noble family.

-They are very sheltered due to the death of loved one (probably their mom or sister)- left their father very emotionally scarred, so he’s very overprotective of them

-for whatever reason, y/n and hobie run in into each other and hobie steals an expensive piece of jewelry from them(necklace, bracelet, brooch, whatever doesn’t really matter)

-This piece of jewelry however holds a lot of emotional value to them because it was given to them by their aforementioned deceased loved one.

-They manage to run into hobie again ( probably because they were trying to track him down and he catches on to what they were doing and decided to confront them) and tries to get their heirloom back

-He tells Y/N that he’ll give them their heirloom back if and only if they become a sort of spy for him. Someone who spends time around nobles and wealthy merchants and can give him insider information ( Who has the most money, whos an easy target, where and when would he be able to find them, etc useful info)

-Y/N is obviously very put off by this offer, after all their whole life they’ve been raised to be a respectable figure in their kingdom. Working with one of the kingdom’s most wanted criminals would be a dangerous, bizzare thing to do; It could get them in serious trouble with the law, bring shame to their family’s name, get them disowned all together.

-The risk is big but their desire to get their heirloom back is even bigger, so reluctantly they agree.

-From them their odd relationship begins. It’s a very enemies to friends to lovers kind of thing (I'm basic I know)

- Y/N sees hobie as a dirty criminal who wants to take advantage of them and would throw them under the bus if the need arises

-Hobie sees them as nothing more than another pompous noble who doesn’t care about anyone but themselves.

-It’s a very “strictly business” relationship due to their refusal to get along with each other.

-The longer they spend working together the more they get to know more about the other's side of the story.

-Hobie learns about how sheltered Y/N is, how they have a double life as commoner and royal, and how much they yearn for a more independent life. He learns that y/n is not as selfish and heartless as he thought they were, they’re just naive about a lot of things.

-Y/N learns about what hobie’s life was like growing up as one of the many unfortunate people in the kingdom. Having to scrounge and steal in order to survive, having to go on days on an empty stomach in order to save what little he had. They learn why he chose to do the things he does and that he and his crew are purposefully painted in bad light as criminals for doing what the rich aren’t willing to do.

-As they get closer they start looking out for each other more

-Y/N helps him cover up his tracks, using their high status to get him out of sticky situations. Sometimes they even help him patch up his wounds.

-In turn, hobie gives them a taste of that freedom they’ve always wanted. Going out and showing them parts of the kingdom they never seen before

Anyways that's all I really have I thought of this at like 2 am so it's not really that good.

If any actual writers feel inspired by this and want to write a better, more well thought out version then be my guest ( plz tag me i'd love to read it!)

HAPPY OCTOBIE EVERYONE!!

[promptfairy]

❥    𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 [ 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 ] ( PART 2 ! ) .

part one is here. change gendered language and add context to your needs. happy roleplaying!! ♡

❛  never underestimate the value of being just who you are. life isn’t about being extreme all the time.  ❜

❛  i used to be so focused. but now, it’s like i just can’t … you know … do stuff …  ❜

❛  you know what i’d like? a chance to talk to someone who isn’t you.  ❜

❛  i waited and waited because i really wanted to see you.  ❜

❛  i’m pretty forgetful, but i’ll record the times we’ve shared in the notebook of my heart.  ❜

❛  there is no rational reason why people act the way they do.  ❜

❛  there aren’t any trendy shops and zero hot men. what a wasteland.  ❜

❛  if i listen carefully to the sound of the rain, it seems like music on the leaves and flowers.  ❜

❛  even if it’s temporary, fleeting happiness is better than none.  ❜

❛  in my opinion, passion is what makes people beautiful.  ❜

❛  no one ever understands me. i’m hungry all the time and no one cares.  ❜

❛  i’m afraid of falling in love and getting hurt.  ❜

❛  you’re just such a little ball of sunshine! you make the world seem like a brighter place.  ❜

❛  one day, i realized that i’m happiest just being myself.  ❜

❛  being filled with doubt and uncertainty is just part of being young.  ❜

❛  doing your best at something you’re really into is kind of what life is all about, right?  ❜

❛  i feel so happy, i might explode! … please promise you’ll clean up if i explode.  ❜

❛  if you ever need someone to hear out your troubles, or even just a shoulder to cry on, just let me know.  ❜

❛  i’m not crying. i’m just using my eyeballs to moisturize my cheeks.  ❜

❛  you’re just so darn cute! i can never say no to you.  ❜

❛  we meet people, get to know them, and then they get up and leave us behind.  ❜

❛  believe it or not, i feel like i’ve known you for a long time.  ❜

❛  the world needs people like me to tell everyone what’s wrong with them.  ❜

❛  it doesn’t matter if you’re powerful or weak. having a strong heart is what counts.  ❜

❛  sometimes i forget who i am and what i’m doing.  ❜

❛  i’m beautiful, but i’m also … deadly.  ❜

❛  there’s something loveable in all of us.  ❜

❛  you’re a little obsessive, aren’t you?  ❜

❛  i always thought you were some freak mental case because you run around town all the time.  ❜

❛  even if perfection is sometimes out of reach, isn’t it still fun to try?  ❜

❛  i’m a lone wolf who doesn’t want to be alone.  ❜

❛  the body is like a battery. every now and then, you need to recharge a little.  ❜

❛  sometimes i put flowers in the toilet so it’s like a huge vase.  ❜

❛  i’ll bet that he’s looking up at the same sky right now.  ❜

❛  even a good memory can make you cry.  ❜

❛  don’t be such a little capitalist! take a deep breath and enjoy a long walk.  ❜

❛  i don’t mean to brag, but, i’m one of those people that’s good at everything.  ❜

❛  you don’t know me. don’t try to judge me.  ❜

❛  i care about you a lot. if you’re having a hard time, i’m here for you  ❜

❛  when someone fakes a smile, don’t get mad. at least they’re trying.  ❜

❛  i guess i just went into fight or flight mode, you know? only my ‘fight’ is more like ‘cry.’  ❜

❛  i’m gonna have to come up with something nice to say about you that sounds believable.  ❜

❛  if you go around trying to change everyone, you’re just going to make them angry.  ❜

❛  i guess you’re having one of your shy episodes.  ❜

❛  i feel like you’re staring at me and it’s making me nervous …  ❜

❛  i do not like to go around spreading rumors. but you won’t believe the rumor i just heard.  ❜

❛  i’ve got this feeling that we have chemistry, and it scares me …  ❜

❛  what’s it like to be so cool and self-assured?  ❜

❛  nobody’s ever nice to me except you.  ❜

❛  when i look up at the stars, i just wonder … what will they all become someday?  ❜

❛  you’ve definitely gained 1-2 [ pounds / kilograms ] since the last time i’ve seen you. i can see it.  ❜

❛  i like to think that it’s my job to show you young people how hard life is.  ❜

❛  ah, it’s such a good story. but i am legally prohibited from sharing all the details at this time.  ❜

❛  you can forget about being friends with me.  ❜

❛  i’m leaving this awful town.  ❜

❛  you’re so short. i can’t help but laugh.  ❜

[lycandrophile]

some thoughts about top surgery recovery, as of 3 days post-op:

when they say using your chest muscles sucks afterward, i never realized exactly how much was going to be be limited. coughing, sneezing, hiccuping, laughing — all of it is terrifying right now. even talking for too long starts to put that kind of stress on my chest, and my voice isn’t as strong as it usually is. it takes me forever to fully empty my bladder when i’m on the toilet because i’m totally relying on gravity to do all the work (and shitting was effectively impossible without a stool softener even though i haven’t taken the pain meds they said i would need them for)…and don’t even get me started on figuring out how to wipe (hint: back to front while sitting, using my dominant hand to push my non-dominant hand far back enough). using the computer is also harder — i was planning on playing lots of baldur’s gate after, but for the first couple days i could only really go for a few minutes before using my arms that way got too tiring. having a mastectomy pillow has been an absolute godsend when i’m using my phone because i can prop my arms up on it and not really have to use any muscles at all to hold them up.

the biggest piece of not being able to use my chest muscles right now, which i’m writing separately because it’s been such a huge thing for me, is that i cannot sit up or back by myself at fucking all. like, if i sit on the couch and lean back a bit to sit against the cushion, it hurts to pull myself back up to fully straight — and if i’m leaning back any more than that, i just can’t do it at all and i’m stuck there unless my boyfriend puts their hands behind me and pushes my dead weight back up. i totally get why some people sleep in a recliner now because i’m completely at the mercy of having someone there to help move me around once i’m at any sort of angle. sitting back is mostly the same as far as what i can do, and arguably hurts worse to attempt at all, but my ability to do it seems to be coming back faster than my ability to sit up. if you’ve never had your mobility limited to that extent before, prepare yourself: the first time you’re stuck somewhere and the person who normally helps you doesn’t answer immediately can be really fucking scary (i learned that the hard way).

the anesthesiologist warned me that i might have a sore throat after surgery from being intubated, but i was not prepared for what “sore throat” ended up meaning for me. you know that feeling of swallowing something that’s too big and you can still feel it in your throat even after it’s down? it’s like that times 20, and further down in my throat. the worst pain i’ve felt in the last three days wasn’t from the surgery itself, it was from trying to swallow pancakes when my throat was at it’s worst. today is the first day it’s even started to fade, and even now, it hurts just to swallow my own spit. i don’t know about you, but that’s not what comes to mind when someone tells me “you might have a sore throat”.

on that note, the incisions themselves have really been the least painful part in general, probably because the nerves there aren’t reconnected yet. the vast majority of my pain and discomfort at this point has been from the drains and bandages — the drain sites getting sore or just randomly starting to sting, waking up feeling suffocated by the ace bandages, etc. it’s not because anything is wrong with them — the drains weren’t placed wrong and the bandages aren’t too tight, they’re just a huge pain in the ass to deal with 24/7. i can’t express how much i’m looking forward to getting the drains out and being able to take binder breaks because it’ll make things so much more comfortable.

my incisions are connected in the middle because my chest tissue was all really close together, and the part where the incisions connect is really the only part where i’ve felt any pain so far. i suspect it’s because the swelling on either side is making that part of the incision push together and press against itself, and then the binder pushes on it even more. it’s not a severe pain at all, but i do sometimes lift the center of the bandage off my chest for a second to give that spot a bit of a break.

i’ve already started getting some of the weird sensations associated with nerves reconnecting, and it definitely is wild. so far, it’s been mostly tingly feelings, sometimes like chills and sometimes more like a limb falling asleep. (weird observation: taking a shit makes my ribs tingle? i’ve got no good explanation for that one.) i’ve gotten a zap on one side and some buzzing feelings too. it’s pretty mild right now, probably because it’s so early on.

i’ve also gotten what i would describe as phantom boob feelings, especially on the first night. specifically, when i close my eyes, sometimes i’ll feel like someone is touching or jiggling the boobs i don’t have anymore. definitely not a super pleasant experience, but i think being out of it from the anesthesia still really helped me not be too upset by the worst of it. i’ve gotten a couple little phantom nipple touches too, but those were just split second blips of sensation that were far less bothersome in comparison.

i never realized that the classic post-op hunch is caused more by the binder than by the body itself, but we had to take all of my bandages off the night after my surgery to send pictures of something to my surgeon, and i was shocked by how much straighter i could sit with everything off. i was definitely still hunched, but it was more like a natural slouch and less like i looked like i was using an invisible walker. with the binder on, it’s super uncomfortable for me to try to stand straight at all because it feels like the ace bandage doesn’t come with my body and just drags everything down, and i’m always holding my mastectomy pillow or my hands to my chest while i walk around to stop it from feeling like gravity is going make the bandage tear my chest open.

every so often, when things are getting especially painful or uncomfortable or just generally difficult, i do start to wonder if i made the right choice. not because i regret getting rid of those things — not by a long shot — but because it’s a fucking hard process to go through. this is probably the hardest thing for me to admit, but the rational part of my mind knows it’s natural to feel that way once in a while. all of this is temporary and the relief from dysphoria will be permanent, but right now? this is my entire world and it doesn’t feel particularly temporary and i do have moments of “why do i have to go through all this when other people get to just have the right body from the start? why couldn’t i just live with what i had? why can’t i just be living my normal life right now?” no matter how sure you are of your choice, no matter how proud you are of being trans, this shit is hard and it’s okay to feel that.

i’m going to put the pictures of my chest one day post-op under the cut, because i think it’s pretty rare to see pictures from that soon after the surgery. they’re not gorey at all — the actual incisions are totally covered by steri strips and everything around them is clean — but still, if you don’t want to see relatively fresh surgery results, don’t look under the cut.

for all the discomfort and pain and limitations and other weirdness of recovery, every time i look at these pictures it reminds me of exactly why i’m doing all of this, and i’m so glad i kept fighting for this for so long. some people might never understand why someone would choose to go through this whole process, but i know it’ll be worth it in the end.

here’s my chest one day post-op! i think it looks super good and my surgeon said it looks like it’s healing perfectly (as much as it can be healing at one day). for reference, my chest was a DDD/F before surgery. i know this isn’t how my chest will look in the end, but i’m already thrilled with how things are turning out! i’ve truly never been more confident in my choice of surgeon — like, come on! look at that! she did so good!