#cause things are hard enough already for him

[zacolyn]

Okay, so I just wanna speak up on my own opinion of Harry Potter.

I was 13 when the first book came out, and I was already a voracious reader beforehand, which might have helped with my opinion. I did buy and read the first book (despite my father's half-hearted protest about the magic element, he was at least smart enough to realize that his daughter would Find A Way if he actually banned the book from her grubby hands), and....I didn't hate it.

Rowling actually had in me a fan up to the Goblet of Fire, at which point she had apparently decided she didn't need to try so hard and her real viewpoints started to leak through. Her protagonist became an absolute git and I began to despise Harry Potter as much as his actual enemies in the books did, though it seemed no one despised him more than the trollop writing him.

Still, though I got tired of certain elements rather quickly (Gryffindor being obviously favored over the other Houses, for example), I have read all the books, all but the last one in softcover and I can tell you honestly that from the Goblet of Fire on I was reading just to finish the story and keep up with friends who were also reading the books, because by then I had largely stopped caring.

Harry's pain became my pleasure unless Umbridge was the cause. I proudly declared myself a Slytherin because Gryffindor was a stained House full of pompous jackdaws like the Potters, and while I hardly thought Snape would have been the better choice, I firmly believed Lily was an idiot for thinking James was worth a blink.

Of course, this was all by design. Rowling made the Slytherins interesting because their views aligned with her own. They were written with far more depth and love because they were her truth. It's certainly been no hardship for me to walk away from all things Potter knowing that. It was part of my childhood, it certainly did leave an impression and her books will doubtless outlive her as have the literary works of other bigots. I can even understand the pain of giving up something you've developed your personality around, but people who love Harry Potter have a choice to make.

They can either denounce it utterly and totally, or they can continue as they're doing and be labeled an ally of a prominent TERF and antisemite. There is no middle ground to be had here. She certainly doesn't see a separation between her works and her. If you enjoy her work, you are supporting her, either directly through giving her money, or indirectly simply by supporting something you know is bigoted and even racist right through the core of it.

There is no toeing the line. There is no saying you are a Slytherin while denouncing the rest. This is black or white. She will not let you sit in the gray. You are either wholly against or wholly for. I'm sorry. Go read Magnus Chase or something instead. Any number of other magical school books. Make your own even like I'm trying to do. You don't need Harry Potter. You can do better than that.

I'm sorry, I don't believe that anyone who has read regularly since childhood would still count Harry Potter as the best book they've ever read.

[demie90s]

Can you write a reader x UConn team and reader has like no filter like they could be in the most serious moment and reader would say something out of pocket

Why she got a mic?

UConn WBB Team x Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: Me. The team’s walking HR violation. No matter the mood, you will say something that has the whole team side-eyeing, laughing, or questioning reality.

Word Count: ~ 0.5k

Genre: Comedy, Team Fluff, Mild Crack

Warnings: Cussing, chaos, suggestiveness, mentions of thirst, reader being out of pocket at all times

The mic wasn’t even all the way clipped to your jersey before you started talking.

“So like…y’all gon’ feed us after this right? ‘Cause I don’t wanna sound ungrateful but that little fruit tray y’all gave us pregame made me feel like a parrot.”

You were dead serious. Meanwhile, the rest of the UConn team was already doing synchronized neck turns to Geno, who stared ahead like maybe if he focused hard enough he could astral project into retirement.

The reporter chuckled awkwardly. “Right, well—uh—let’s talk about the game. You had a breakout performance in the third quarter. What clicked?”

You nodded solemnly. “I had to pee real bad so I was tryna hurry up and get off the court. Y’all saw me running? That was urgency. It’s called motivation.”

Laughter broke out across the room. Aubrey dropped her head into her hands. Nika was crying silently.

Someone else raised their hand—braver than most.

“You guys really shut down USC’s offense tonight. What went into that defensive game plan?”

You tilted your head. “I mean, yeah. I saw that. USC good and all…but not as good as us so like…I don’t really care. Sorry.”

Caroline leaned in with a PR-smile. “What she means is we watched a lot of film and trusted each other—”

“No,” you cut in. “That’s not what I meant. I said what I said.”

The reporter blinked. “A-And uh—Aubrey, you had a great night on the boards…”

You slouched in your chair. “Yeah, and yet still no date.”

Aubrey snapped her head toward you. “Yo—”

“I told her, I said, ‘If God see fit and we win tonight, you gon’ say yes’—and we did. We won. And she still didn’t say yes. So she fake but that’s between her and the Lord.”

KK was wheezing. “You need help.”

You turned to her calmly. “Nah I need a girlfriend. Two different things.”

The reporter next to the stage was beet red now, trying not to laugh into their notes. “Okay, uh…next question—what was going through your mind during that final play?”

You crossed one leg over the other like this was Oprah. “I was thinking, if the world ended right then, we’d all go with it, so I might as well go out with a win. That’s real.”

Geno rubbed his temples. “Jesus Christ.”

You leaned into the mic again, like a closing statement. “Thank you. And please remember to feed athletes. We is hungry.”

The PR rep jumped in so fast her paper nearly flew off the table. “That’s it! Thanks so much, everyone!”

The moment y’all stepped backstage, Geno turned slowly.

“You know they record those, right?”

“Yeah Coach.”

“And they post them.”

“Mmhm.”

“You’re going to get us sued.”

You gave him your most sincere expression. “It’s okay. I got a lil savings.”

He looked like he aged ten years in five seconds.

Behind you, Aubrey shoved your shoulder, laughing. “Yo are you alright.”

You shrugged. “I’m just honest. And single. And hungry. Somebody gone address it.”

Just like that, you were back in the locker room, already hyping yourself up for post-game food and probably more chaos. Because filters are for water—not for you.

@letsnowtalk @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264 @yorubagirlsworld @daffodil-darlings @h4untedghOul @followthesvn @hibiscusblu @sevikasleftbicep @swiftie4evr @babyphatbrat @sivensblog @beeop223 @huntedghOul @tpwkrosalinda @lightsgore @em-nems @salemsuccss @villain-ryuk @ihrtsarahstrOng @liyahh037 @sillystarv @somedetailsinthefabric @essence-134340 @mochelisgf @soph1asticated @heheievidbri @unvswrld @breezybellab @planet-ghoulborne @art-ofmusic @toorealrai

[mullermilkshake]

Fear

Part 28 <- Part 29 -> Part 30

Jinwoo's memories returned just in time to welcome two special people into the world.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Pregnant!reader Tags - Depictions of Childbirth and labour, Depictions of blood, cutting, Delivering premature babies

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers.

TAG LIST RE-OPEN (The tag list is back up and open for a little while, if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! 🤗)

TW - This will contain some very graphic details of childbirth which may be triggering for some, if you do not wish to read it, I will leave a short summary of this chapter at the bottom of this post, thank you all for reading this far and enjoy!!

Fear. It was fear in the end that put things back as they should be.

Seeing you in agony and standing helplessly on the side triggered something on a chemical level in Jinwoo’s brain that essentially turned the light back on in his head. It may have had help from the doctor man’s abilities, but Jinwoo didn’t accept that theory.

It was viciously sudden, like taking a sharp breath of fresh air for the first time after being confined to a stuffy room all day, then coughing up his lungs due to the icy cold. Or, the sensation was similar to jolting against the seatbelt when executing an emergency brake during a drivers exam. Heart racing to an unknown beat, chest pounding yet knowing that safety sat right on the road behind the wheel.

Like standing in a room and forgetting why he was in there until it suddenly came back to him.

Watching you in pain set a defibrillator to his heart and ignored the warning signs before yelling ‘clear’.

Hearing you shout at the woman not only opened the door once the window had closed on Jinwoo, it put everything into perspective. He almost lost the moments that meant everything to him, right down the gutter, washed away with a horrid storm and the front door to the apartment remained sealed shut despite how hard he banged on it.

Jinwoo realised how attached Beru had gotten and understood now why he was hovering around outside, Igris kept watch on the perimeter. They were both your protectors and now it all made sense.

The twins aura had vanished.

He had no time to investigate or tell you that he regained his memories when his eye twitching like that, how the doctor was still standing in the room being utterly useless. Jinwoo wouldn’t just let you lie in pain when this woman could stop it.

Jinwoo never experienced fear anymore until now, but he recognised it as muscle memory. A jittery feeling standing there helpless and hopeless, taking up oxygen instead of breathing evenly and waiting to see how things planned out.

Events couldn’t play out as normal if he hyperventilated.

“Doctor.” He approached her already, taking her arm discreetly and forcing her into the corner where you couldn’t see her or hear him.

He had enough of her bullshit. Jinwoo recognised that she was paramount in a safe delivery should things change or go wrong, but as far as her usefulness in this room, she had outlived it.

Jinwoo had to whisper in order to control himself. “If you don’t give her what she’s asking for and something goes wrong… I’ll murder you in your sleep, and you’ll never know when I might come. But I guarantee that I will… Do you want the fact you’re willingly causing her pain on your conscience, knowing you could have stopped it? You’ll be looking over your shoulder for a lifetime.” 

She whispered too out of natural mirroring. “You- you- I know that look… You got your memories back- when did you… That’s great- but you’re hurting me.” 

Jinwoo gave no fucks when it came to you, he’d break her arm if he wanted to just to prove a point. “Answer my question.” 

“N-No, I don’t want that. I’ll give her the medication- anything she wants.” 

He let her go, but kept his closeness. “Good. Off you go, and stay out of this room until you’re actually needed. Understand?” 

“Yes, Mr. Sung.” She retreated with her tail between her legs, had Jinwoo not been staying strong for you, he would have laughed.

“I’ll go get your pain meds, then just call if you need me- I’ll be with hunter Cha.”

Jinwoo waited for the sound of the doctor's footsteps to disappear before speaking to you. “She’s getting you anything you need, don’t leave anything out, alright?” He watched you with an eagerness that resembled what it might have been like if he’d been kept from you for days. “Hi, Baby.”

Your pet name. Your expression fell, like the pain melted away for just a moment. “Jinwoo- wait- do you-”

He wanted to run to you, to embrace you and praise you in front of everyone for being the strong person he knew you were. For the longest time, he wanted to have a form of control over you where you became entirely reliant on him, but seeing you like this, still going strong in the pain you were in, he knew he’d never have that.

And now, it didn't seem so important.

Jinwoo had changed drastically and his time away from you laid it all out in plain sight. He kissed your forehead, pressing his lips to your skin like you’d vanish in thin air if he didn’t, a physical mantra he repeated out of necessity. “I’m sorry I went away, I won’t ever leave again, I promise.”

“Wait- wait.” You almost gave him whiplash. “You took your time!”

So, you were back to your old self. That’s good. 

Jinwoo was overwhelmed with that same sense of familiarity he’d been ruminating on since he left that dungeon.

That fucking dungeon.

“Thanks for waiting for me, I missed you too.”

“I did miss you.”

Jinwoo held back any and all excitement he had to contain over hearing your confession of love. It filled him with warmth and bitterness simultaneously. 

He missed it- well, he didn’t miss it- but he did. The first time and Jinwoo missed it. It tore his heart apart and taped it back together continuously.

“And you love me too, huh?”

He played it cool, though it made his heart thump. Your wide eyes, deep breaths on the hospital bed, he’d missed it. You needing him. Him needing you.

Before you could speak, Jinwoo’s phone went off, an unknown number. He pocketed it, held your hands and made you comfortable.

“I’m here. Let’s welcome our babies together, yeah?”

You nodded enthusiastically, hissing and squeezing his hands as soon as a huge contraction came on. 

“Fuck-fuck-fuck!”  

Jinwoo wanted to take the pain away, absorb it all and take it for you- no, put it all on her instead.

The doctor came in with a tray, and a gas canister. “You can have an epidural, but I'd suggest gas and air first, see how you go. It should take the edge off. Breathe it in every contraction and it’ll help.”

She didn’t dignify Jinwoo with a look his way. Good. 

The nurse called your name sweetly. “I’m going to check how dilated you are now, okay? Can you put your legs- yep, like that… and I’ll just check…”

She moved her arm under the draped cloth, a similar scene when you and Jinwoo found that you were carrying twins. Made from the same material, the same dull and depressing shade of blue with weird little circles evenly spaced out. You sat in the same position in the stirrups. 

It was only like yesterday that it happened. Now within a few hours, the babies would be in your arms, you and Jinwoo would become a proper family.

“Okay, you’re almost eight centimetres dilated, things are going to get intense soon, maybe stick to the gas and air.” She waved over Jinwoo who hadn’t let go of your hand. “Dad, your job is coming up now, keep her calm and relaxed as much as possible.”

“Of course.” He said, stepping back to your side and stroking your hair in the process. 

At first, whispered sweet praises worked a treat. 

“I’m so proud of you.” 

“You’re doing so well, baby.” 

“You’ve got this, I know you can do it.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

Then, praise started to piss you off. You became nasty, erratic and emotional.

“I can’t believe you did this to me, you utter dickhead!” 

“You’re never touching me again, I swear to god I’ll bite your fucking hand off!” 

“The twins are punishing me- I just know it- it’s all your fault, Jinwoo!” 

“I don’t like you very much right now- stop touching me!” 

Jinwoo took nothing to heart, absolutely nothing and in time, you and he would be laughing it off and cuddling your little bundles of joy in no time. But it was starting to get a little hurtful. Especially when you let slip that you hated him after hearing Hae-in absolutely belt it from across the hall just before the news came that she’d given birth to a little boy.

The screeches and screams terrified you, Jinwoo understood that, yet when you yanked his shirt down to your level and growled something demonic between pulls on the canister, Jinwoo wasn’t exactly sure how to take you.

When you were ten centimetres dilated, things amped up, they sky rocketed. Jinwoo didn’t realise that until now you weren’t using your full strength to squeeze his hand. It wasn’t that it hurt, but each time you clenched his hand in such a way, it rolled his knuckles, and cringed his body like you were punishing him personally.

“You did this, you did this you fucking- ouch!” 

The midwife had taken her place by your feet, rolled the sheet up over your knees and looked ready to catch one of the twins with a net.

What if she’s right? What if the twins fall out? 

At least he was here to catch them, fully present and correct.

“Do you feel the need to push-“

“Yes, yes! I need to push, I really need to push!”

“Then push, love.” She said, voice soothing and calm. “Every time you get a contraction, you push with everything you have and stop when I tell you, alright?”

You didn’t respond, almost silent with each push, hand visibly shaking. Jinwoo stood helpless, the same flutter of fear being utterly powerless on something you had to ride out on your own.

It shone a light on you that Jinwoo never thought would turn on by yourself, not a flicker but a full beam full of warm UV rays and sunshine. In the beginning, Jinwoo really wanted to keep you, use your abilities for things he still hadn’t fully figured out yet, he wanted to have you all to himself and tuck you away forever.

Being the mother of his children, you were so strong and resilient through everything, Jinwoo only wanted you. 

He’d give up everything for you.

Kill for you, again.

Take the world for you.

Burn it down for you.

Reduce everything to dust just to see you smile. Because you loved him back. You wanted him too.

Jinwoo patted your forehead with a damp cloth, soothing you with soft delicate words whenever you wanted to give up, he would have let you breake both his hands if it took an ounce of pain away.

Each push, each stifled grunt and growl through the pain brought you closer to delivery. Jinwoo was anxious to move anywhere away from your head, he knew eventually he’d be cutting the cords of his children, but getting close between your legs during active labour just felt like something only a professional should do.

That, and he was sure you’d hit him if he moved an inch away as he learned earlier when he wanted to go to the bathroom after you told him to fuck off. You threw something at him and begged him to come back in tears and hold your hand.

“Baby’s head is out… One big push- that’s it. Push-push-push, one last push.”

A deep breath and mountainous determination, you pushed again, far quieter than Hae-in ever was.

Jinwoo’s moment he’d hold forever in his head and heart, was the proudest sensation filling up his chest with your sigh of relief and the sound of his baby crying for the first time.

He’d never get it out of his head and he never wanted to. So beautiful, so overwhelming, so perfect.

“Okay, we have a boy!” The midwife smiled briefly, holding him in her arms so Jinwoo could see.

He was beautiful.

“Baby, he’s perfect.” He peppered kisses on your forehead, squeezing your hand tight with encouragement.

“Is he- is he okay?" 

Jinwoo grinned from ear to ear. "He's great, he's so tiny. But he's so perfect."

"Come and cut the cord dad." The specialist gave him sterile gloves to wear, and threw on a quick hospital gown.

Holy shit, holy fucking shit. Don't mess this up, man. 

Even if his hands trembled, Jinwoo cut his sons cord like he imagined his dad did for him.

The midwife and passed the Jinwoo’s son over to the specialist. “She’ll clean him up, and let’s get his sibling ready to follow.” 

Jinwoo wiped the wet away from his eyes. A son, a baby boy that you made all by yourself, wrapped up in his own aura. An aura almost identical to Jinwoo’s as soon as the cord was cut.

A little baby he only saw for a second, but knew he was the sweetest and most adorable baby in the world. Someone who was destined to do great things.

"Ouch, ouch ouch!” You hissed, waving your hand around until you connected with Jinwoo and crushed his hand in the process.

“Do you need to push again?” The midwife fiddled around under the cloth and looked back at you with a raised brow.

“Yep! I need to- I have to push again!”

Jinwoo sniffled and doubled down, resting his forehead on your hair for a moment. “Come on baby, you’re almost there. You’re doing so well, you can do this. I love you so much.” 

You went into silence again, focusing and drenched in your own sweat, gasping on air between pushes. Only praise kept you going now, or you just ignored Jinwoo, either way, you were too distracted to shout at him and pull him closer than he already was.

But wow, if Jinwoo wasn’t emotional at everything unfolding in front of him by now, he certainly was when he heard the first cry of his second child.

Far too much. How the fuck were you keeping it all together like you were?

“And… we have a girl!”

A son. A daughter. A woman who Jinwoo would call his wife soon.

So much to live for.

So much to lose.

It was then you finally relaxed, after Jinwoo cut his daughter's cord, after the twins were wrapped up in their corresponding swaddles and straight into their incubators. The after birth left your body like you were allergic to it. 

You laid there still enough, your breathing beginning to even out. Jinwoo kissed you and never let you go, he whispered how proud he was, how much love he had developed for you and the twins. He never left your side, holding on to use the bathroom for the last hour because he didn’t want to stop looking at those precious little babies.

He couldn't hold them either, being a week early, the specialist stated that a week in their incubators should be enough. Then you and Jinwoo could take the twins home and start a life together. His heart overflowed with love, calculating and making plans to relocate out of the city, take small time raids to stay close to his family and prevent the risk of an altercation with something similar to that spider ever again.

He couldn’t afford to ever lose his memories again, not with the new, irreplaceable ones he made today.

Levelling up came second for the time being, and looking at the system screen, his quest had officially been completed. He received a significant boost in stats and hie was that much closer to levelling up. Still, it could wait.

“You did so well, baby. I couldn’t be prouder.”

For the first time being in the hospital, you smiled. “I’m proud too. Y’know, at first I wasn’t sure if I could do it, to look after them and be there. But after doing that… I think we can do anything.”

“We can, baby.” Jinwoo grinned, his heart overbrimming with joy. “We have one more hard task to overcome now, though.”

“What is it?”

“What are we calling our babies?”

Two of the most beautiful babies in the world, and they were yours and his only.

Part 28 <- Part 29 -> Part 30

SUMMARY - Jinwoo threatens the doctor that he'll kill her if she keeps acting up. Reader gives birth to a little boy and girl 🤗

Okay, okay! So this will be the last chapter now before I go away, see ya! 🤗🤗🤗

TAG LIST RE-OPEN (The tag list is back up and open for a little while, if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! 🤗)

Thank you for reading and all of the support on this fic! ❤️ Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated and I appreciate you all! See you next time 🤗

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DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work, thank you!

[sereia4skz]

Hihi, is it possible to ask for a oneshot extension of that one text fic of poly!ot8 with fox!reader??

The one from your 1.5k event, i get if you wouldn’t though!

oneshot | mine, mine, mine

pairing: sub!Jilix x f!reader | part 1

genre: smut

warnings: technically!poly!OT8 (but only felix and jisung are getting it), fox hybrid!reader, smut, possessive behavior, overstimulation, oral (m!receiving), riding, mating kink, praise, light begging, creampie

word count: 960

masterlist: A-Side (texts) | B-Side (written)

Felix is already whining the second you shift under the blankets.

“Where are you going?” he mumbles, voice gravelly with sleep. His tail wraps around your thigh, and you feel the gentle thump of it swishing against the sheets.

“She’s not going anywhere,” Jisung mumbles from your other side, arms clumsily tightening around your waist. His nose nuzzles your shoulder as his voice melts into a tiny, sleepy whimper. “She wouldn’t leave her babies.”

Your ears twitch at the sound of it, her babies. And your tail flicks behind you, just once, before curling softly across Jisung’s hip.

“‘Course I wouldn’t.” You hum, voice smooth, drowsy. You roll onto your side to face them, and both of them shift in immediately, Felix tucking into your chest, Jisung sliding a thigh between yours, practically purring when he settles.

They’re warm and pliant and so very clingy. Maybe it’s the heat still simmering in their marks, purple and pink, healing over on their necks, glowing faintly under your scent. You’d claimed them both last night, fully, thoroughly. Teeth sunk in, fingers gripping hard, both of them moaning through it with the filthiest sobs you’ve ever heard.

Despite all the boys going on about their day after last night, these two were quick to come back to bed. The memories of the previous night keep them so needy. Now they won’t let go of you. Not that you mind.

“Mmm, sunshine,” you murmur, brushing Felix’s hair back from his eyes, “you’re burning up.”

He lets out a soft sigh and nudges closer. “Feel floaty…”

Jisung nods, eyes fluttering open sleepily. “Like we’re still in heat. It’s ‘cause of you.”

You grin, teeth flashing just a little too sharp. “Because I fucked you so good?”

They both squirm.

“…yes,” Felix whispers.

You kiss his forehead, then tilt your head to nose at Jisung’s temple. “You poor things. All needy again already?”

Jisung’s ears flatten shyly. He nods.

You hum thoughtfully and lean back against the pillows. “Guess I better take care of my good boys.”

Their ears perk immediately, Felix practically lights up.

“Lay back,” you instruct gently, patting Felix’s chest. “Let me see my sunshine.”

He obeys like it’s instinct, rolling onto his back, legs slightly parted, the most pathetic little whine leaving his throat as your tail brushes between them. His cock’s already hard, twitching against his stomach.

“Look at you,” you purr, crawling between his thighs, “not even five minutes and you’re already begging.”

Felix blushes deep, lips parted, hands gripping the sheets. “Not begging-”

“You will be.”

You drag your tongue up the underside of his cock, slow and warm, and Felix whimpers so sweetly that Jisung’s hips rock against your thigh. You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s hard too, pressing up against you for attention.

You don’t ignore him, of course. One hand strokes Felix, lazy and teasing, while the other reaches back to grip Jisung’s hip and keep him pressed against you.

“Patience, Hannie,” you coo. “You’ll get your turn.”

Jisung lets out a breathy moan and hides his face in your shoulder. “You’re mean.”

You grin. “You like it.”

Felix arches under your mouth, hands flying to your hair, and you hum low in your throat as you take him in fully, nose brushing his pelvis. His hips jerk, helplessly. You hold him down.

“Good boy,” you whisper against his skin. “You always taste so sweet.”

Felix moans, breath catching. “You’re gonna- m-make me-”

You pull off just enough to tease him. “Already?”

He nods frantically, eyes glossy.

You let him. You make him, really, tight suction, strokes that don’t pause for a second, until he gasps out your name and spills with a choked cry, back arching completely off the bed. You stroke him through it gently, cooing praise as he shudders in your grasp.

And then you let Jisung roll you onto your back. “My turn,” he whispers, face flushed, eyes glazed over like he’s high on your scent. “Need you so bad, noona…”

You let your thighs fall open.

He doesn’t waste time, slides between them, grinding against you like a desperate pup, cock hot and wet and rutting where he knows you want him. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in.

“Beg.”

Jisung whines against your mouth. “Please. Please let me make you feel good, wanna be inside, wanna feel you, mommy…”

You moan low and grip his ass, guiding him in with one smooth thrust.

“Fuck Hannie- yes,” you pant, nails sinking into his hips. “Such a good boy for me.”

He whimpers into your neck, already trembling, moving with fast, messy thrusts. He’s so loud, soft whines and stuttered gasps, his voice a constant stream of praise and need:

“You’re so warm- feels so good- don’t wanna stop-”

You wrap your arms around him and fuck up into him hard enough to make him sob.

You’re close, and so is he, so you tilt your hips just right and grind until he’s gasping your name into your ear and spilling inside you, thick and hot, filling you up just the way he knows you like.

You clench around him and finish with a soft, breathless moan, your tail curling over his spine protectively.

You hold him like that for a long time.

Felix eventually crawls back over, still a little dazed, and nuzzles into your chest while Jisung lies boneless between your thighs, cock still twitching inside you.

You hum, running your claws gently down their backs.

“You two are so cute when you’re fucked out.”

They groan in perfect sync. And then Felix mutters into your chest:

“…Wanna go again later.”

You laugh, low and sharp.

“Of course you do, sunshine.”

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here @m-325 @0sunshinecryptid0 @beal-o @hug4helios @oksullen @rileylovescats @dreamyfelixx @yxna-bliss @turtledove824 @enhacolor @skzz0213 @hannahlue @purplelady85 @velvetmoonlght @inishij @bangchanspineapple @straykids4lifeee @peskybirdysya @gnabsss

[fleurbly]

part I

— he doesn’t knock when you leave. doesn’t chase. just waits. quiet. still. and when you finally come back scared or guilty or just tired he doesn’t greet you with softness. just a slow look, like he already knew. “told you,” he murmurs, brushing a hand over your cheek. “this ain’t the kind of thing you walk away from. not without leavin’ parts behind.”

— he starts leaving marks more where no one else will see. not bruises it’s bites. sharp and shallow. just enough to sting when you wash. “don’t cover that up,” he says, eyes dragging over you. “ain’t shameful if it’s mine.”

— when you have yet another argument. loud, ugly, sharp around the edges. it ends the same way it always does: you in tears, him standing too still. and when you ask why he always pushes you this far, why he never lets go, he just tilts his head like he’s studying the wreckage. “when you’re cryin’ like that,” he says, voice thick with heat, “makes me wanna fuck you even harder. like maybe if i split you open enough, you’ll finally stay.”

— when he feeds now, it’s not for control. it’s ritual. his mouth against your neck like he’s sealing a promise. slow, reverent. he doesn’t stop when you flinch. doesn’t care. “if you’re scared,” he says, low against your skin, “that just means you still got some sense left. don’t lose it. i like you better when you know what i’m capable of.”

— sometimes he doesn’t speak for hours. just stares, like he’s waiting for something inside you to shift. “i’m tryin’ real hard to be gentle with you,” he says eventually. “but you keep makin’ me prove things, and i’m tired of provin’.”

— he starts locking the doors, not to keep you in, but to keep others out. “ain’t no one else allowed to look at you the way i do,” he says, twirling a key around his finger. “not ‘cause you’re fragile—‘cause they wouldn’t survive it.”

— he starts saying “we” when he talks about things you haven’t agreed to. moving towns. hurting people. burning bridges. “we already decided,” he says, when you try to protest. “you just forgot.”

— he tells you you’re lucky he loves you. tells you soft, when your knees are raw and your throat’s sore from begging. “anyone else,” he says, real slow, “woulda bled you dry by now.”

— and when you ask if he’d ever hurt you, if he’d really go that far. he doesn’t lie. doesn’t flinch. just leans in, slow and cold. “i’d ruin the whole fuckin’ world,” he says, “if it meant keepin’ you close enough to hold.”

remmick masterlist

[bbyg4rl]

୨୧ ─ fetishes . . .

cw: REQUESTED / jj x reader, SMUT, foot fetish, dry humping.

It’s a quiet night, your legs are stretched out, your toes nudging against JJ’s thigh while something forgettable plays on the TV. You’re in his shirt, sprawled across the couch, half in his lap, like always. He never complains. Until your foot creeps higher today. JJ shifts. Clears his throat.

You pretend not to notice. Just smile to yourself and drag your toes along the seam of his shorts, featherlight. “Hey,” he looks at you. “What are you doing?”

You nudge again. “What am I doing?”

His voice drops, hand stroking your leg. “This.”

You giggle, all mock-innocent, but he’s already catching your ankle, hand curling gently around it like he’s not sure if he’s supposed to stop you or keep holding on.

“Fuck, you’re warm,” he mutters, thumbing over your skin. His other hand drifts down, big palm pressing against the arch of your foot like it’s instinct. You wiggle your toes. He shudders. “Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbles, eyes flicking up. “I’m a simple man.”

“Oh?” you tease, slowly climbing into his lap. “That why do you look like you’re about to die?”

JJ groans. “That’s ‘cause I’ve got a beautiful woman teasin’ me, and I think I’m living a fantasy I didn’t even know I had.”

You settle fully onto his lap now, knees bracketing him, shirt riding up your thighs. His grip slides to your other foot too—both palms now resting against your arches, rubbing slow, grounding himself.

He’s hard already, and the way you rock against him is making his breath stutter. “Fucking hell, baby.”

“You’re squirmy,” you murmur, letting your hands trail over his shoulders. “You gonna lose it?”

He nods, dazed. “Yeah. Probably. It’s not my fault, though.”

“No?” You tilt your head.

JJ swipes his thumbs down your heels, massaging lazy circles into your skin like it’s keeping him calm. “You on top of me. This is... yeah. This is it for me.”

You grin, dipping forward, brushing your mouth over his. “You’re cute.”

JJ groans again, bucking up into you. “Don’t call me cute while you’re grindin’ on my cock.”

You giggle again, harder this time, your smile curves against his lips. “I mean it.”

He whines a little, and you feel him pulse beneath you, hips twitching—so close to the edge, just from the heat of you, the slow rhythm, the feel of your soles in his hands.

He uses his grip on your feet to push you higher, moving you straight over the hard strain in his pants. One hand leaves your leg to dig into the flesh of your ass, squeezing enough to make you whimper and grind down harder. He mouths at your collarbone, teeth grazing the skin, leaving little bruises that he quickly softens with his tongue.

You don’t stop until he’s breathless and clinging, forehead pressed to your collarbone, gripping your ankles like they’re the only things keeping him grounded.

You feel his hips twitch when your hands grip his hair—the slight pain tugging at his scalp delicately. He bucks into you one more time before groaning hard, head falling into the crook of your neck as he finishes, his hand gripping the soft arch of your foot while he does so.

You kiss his temple after, fingers running through his hair—soothing where you had pulled before, “Good?”

He nods, dazed and a little breathless, “Fuck—yeah.”

♡ requested by anon for ꒰ ⑅ ๑  𝟗𝟗𝟗 : : RELEASE ꒱

check out my — masterlist / 2k celebration ૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა

[chanceofwhat]

Based off of this short by @someoddwritings for @aroace-get-out-of-my-face ‘s Safety Alarm AU

(Basically, magic user Ford dies and Stan goes nope and resurrects him.) (read their thing first though it’s really good and makes this read better)

“So,” Ford eventually has to ask, “how did you do it?”

Stan blinks at him from the armchair. It’s late, he’s still tired from the incident, and he was expecting they’d go to bed soon. Instead, now Ford’s talking, and his tone sounds like he’s trying too hard to keep it light.

“Do what?” is the first thing Stan’s brain offers, because how could he possibly know something Ford doesn’t know?

“Don’t be obtuse, Stanley.” Ford rolls his eyes, “How did you resurrect me? Did you memorize a spell beforehand? Did you even use an incantation?”

Oh, this. Of course. Stan shrugs,

“Nah. Actually, I’ve got no idea what happened there. I just sorta… focused. I’m thinkin’ it was probably easier because you do so much magic stuff, so I figure you had a bunch of magic in you already or something.”

Ford furrows his brow,

“That’s not really how that works, Stanley.”

“Well, clearly it is, ‘cause you’re here.”

“Yes. I’m here. Because you brought me back to life.”

Stan makes a dismissive “eh” sound and shrugs again. Ford fully does a double take,

“‘Eh’?! What do you mean ‘eh’?! You resurrected me! It took you less than a minute! I was dead, Stanley—“

Stan winces at the word,

“Can we stop talkin’ about that? I don’t wanna think about it anymore.”

“No,” Ford feels himself get louder as he grows increasingly agitated, “I need you to understand the magnitude of what you accomplished! You performed a true resurrection in under a minute without—“

“Shut up!”

Ford’s loud confusion quiets as Stan begins to shout,

“I know you were dead, so stop fucking saying it! I saw your head cracked in half, I saw your ribs crushed into little bits, I saw your heart smushed flat, I KNOW. And I’m not lookin’ forward to sleepin’ tonight because I’ve been seein’ it all again every time I close my eyes. I’m probably gonna have nightmares about that forever, and I’ve got no fucking idea how I fixed it!”

Stan slumps further into the plush chair, looking miserable,

“I don’t know how I fixed it, and I don’t know if I could ever do anything like that again. I barely even remember doing it. I just know I saw you and… you couldn’t be dead. It was wrong. I remember thinking it just had to be fixed and you couldn’t exactly do it so I had to fix it and my hands felt funny and I got all dizzy and then you were back, so I was done, and that was that.”

Ford looks at his face exhausted brother sympathetically. He gets it— he still thinks too often about the state he found Stanley in originally, tied up and dying of heatstroke in the trunk of his own car. He remembers the magic he performed to bring his dying brother to him, the surge of energy that his determination brought; that’s something he knows about magic, it feeds on passion and intensity, it works better the more you want it.

Yet, some selfish part of Ford can’t stop thinking about how much work it was for him. The locator spell, the teleportation— both with incantations and specific methods that called upon his expertise— finding his brother within the car, cooling him down, not having enough magic left to bring him into the house with anything but his tired muscles, and that’s not even considering the safety alarm itself—

And Stanley hadn’t even been dead.

It took time after all that for Stanley to recover, and Stanley hadn’t even been dead. Ford died today, and all he has to show for it is a twinge in his back and his legs from how he was awkwardly forced to the ground when the boulder landed on his upper half. When he awoke 36 seconds after his own death, he didn’t even have a headache.

He wants to tell his brother how impressed he is, how incredible such a controlled, intent-based display of magic is. He wants to shout and throw something because how could anyone perform something as complex as a true resurrection without the proper use of spells or incantations, it’s a flippant dismissal, even an offense, to everything he thinks he knows about magic.

Between the incredibly loud, emotionally intense warring sides in Ford’s head, his voice comes out calm and gentle,

“I can prevent nightmares, if that would help.”

Stan looks at him. Ford offers a small, tired smile,

“I know a spell that induces dreamless sleep. I’ve used it on myself before. I can use it on you, if you’d like.”

Stan nods, a small movement.

“That would be nice.”

Ford nods in return.

“Let’s go to bed, then. I think we’ve both had enough excitement for one day.”

When they walk down the hall to what Ford expects to be the guest room only to find Ford’s own room, extended a few extra feet with an extra bed in it, Ford can’t bring himself to argue. Especially not with how grateful Stan looks.

He all but tucks Stan in, using what little magic he has available this evening to ensure him a dreamless sleep and help him drift into it. When Stan conks out, he brushes a strand of hair out of the peaceful, sleeping face before putting himself to bed as well.

When he wakes up only an hour later, plagued by images of Stan’s death that he’s not sure he’d be able to heal the same way, he gives himself a dreamless sleep as well.

[undyingdecay]

hi first of all you ROCK now a thought/thirst/request bob wearing a formal outfit suit and tie. tie that's perfect for reader to grab and pull him by btw.

(mwah, thank you nonnie)

it’s not just the suit, it’s how he fidgets in it, how he tugs at the collar like it’s choking him, how the tie hangs a little crooked cause he got nervous halfway through fixing it. how his eyes dart when you so much as glance at him — already pink around the ears and playing with the cuff of his sleeve like some bashfull idiot.

the event’s one of those stiff, boring things — a fundraise or a military gala, maybe. one of those nights where the drinks are too expensive and the conversation too dull. you don’t care. you’ve spent the whole evenning watching him across the room, watching the way his throat bobs when you catch his eye, how his jaw works when you deliberately lean a little too far over the bar to reach your drink.

he’s been squirming for an hour now.

so by the time you curl your fingers around the narrow silk of his tie and give a tug, he’s already halfway hard, already swallowing a whimper so tight it makes his eyes water.

“bathroom. now.”

he follows. like he alwys does. eager and quiet and flushed all the way down to the collar of his too-stiff shirt.

the second the door clicks shut behind you, you’ve got him pressed against the tile, mouth on his neck, one hand tugging the tie loose, the other already palming him through his dress slacks. he makes this sound — half gasp, half helpless little moan — hips rocking into your touch like he can’t help it.

“fuck—”

he’s trembling. it’s adorable.

you spin, lean over the sink, arch your back just enough to make it clear what you want, and bob’s hands are on you like it’s instinct. fumbling with his belt, panting like he’s run a mile, the outline of his cock already twitching against the fabric.

“c-can’t— can’t wait,” he stammers, voice wrecked.

“don’t have to.”

it’s messy. desperate. he hitches your dress up, grinds against you like a man starved, thick cock sliding between your thighs, rutting against your ass while you watch him in the mirror. his cheeks flushed, teeth sunk into his bottom lip, eyes glassy.

“fuck, fuck—”

his tie’s dangling between you, perfect for you to grab again, to haul him down and press your mouth to his ear.

“gonna make a mess in your nice suit, baby?”

he chokes on a moan. practically sobs when you push your hips back against him, make it even worse. your hand sneaks between your legs, rubbing yourself while he ruts, desperate little whines spilling out of him as he gets closer, too close, too fast.

and when he finally comes — messy and hot, cock twitching against your skin — it’s with a broken little “fuck— love you— can’t help it, m’sorry—”

like it’s a crime.

you just hum, fixing your hair in the mirror, pulling his tie straight while he leans against the sink, panting and trembling.

“you’re buying me a drink after this.”

he nods. still dazed. still pink.

because bob in a suit is good. bob ruined in a suit? even better.

[bakkfity]

Does Rosi ever have panic attacks that are caused by enemies? Like, is there something someone does that reminds him of his time as a slave and he panics or has a trauma response?

Would anyone be close enough to him to understand that he's suffering not just from what the enemy said or did or would they not notice or be too far away and just kill the enemy outright because they obviously did something to Corazon, he doesn't just act like that because nothing happened?

Yeah, I can absolutely imagine that happening!

In his semi-early days with the family, when they take Rosinante with them on a mission—he’s already learned a lot about martial arts and how to handle weapons — so they figure he’s ready enough. But when things go south, right in the middle of a fight, someone suddenly yells something like, “Don’t even think about shooting, you pirate scum!” And Rosinante just freezes. He can’t move, can’t react. Because for a moment, it’s not a battlefield—it’s the Holy City again. That voice is a command, and his body remembers. He has to obey. Nika helps him, he wants to live. He wants to—he wants to… but he just can’t.

I think it would be the kids who start to notice the truth behind these strange reactions. The adults brush off Rosinante’s behavior, make excuses, or just don’t care enough to look closer. But the kids are different. They’re more open, more honest. They see things.

I think Baby5 would be especially sensitive to all of this because of her family background. She grew up desperate to please, almost like someone who’s been a slave and can’t say no. Because of that, she’d be able to notice the pain he hides inside. She knows exactly what it’s like to carry that kind of weight.

And well… I don’t think Rosinante would handle intimacy very well either. It would probably flip a switch in his head—fight or flight—and he’d go straight for “throw whatever’s nearby and run.”

P.S.: Sorry for disappearing—I’ve been dealing with a really rough art block, and there’s just a lot going on in my life right now. It’s been hard to keep everything together lately.

[mono-red-goblin-party]

what you can't have | part 4

Pairing: Cameraman! Joel x Reality Star! Reader

Summary: Hooking up with your cameraman is the last thing you should be doing as the lead of Mr. Right. But when Joel Miller is assigned to be your personal shadow, it's impossible to deny your attraction. He's the guy you want, and the only one on set that you can't have.

Chapter content warnings: 18+ ONLY. Dirty talk, pining, oral sex (f! recieveing), Joel calls you a slut, reader gets handsy at one point

Word Count: ~6.4K

A/N: New banner, who this? Enjoy this filthy chapter <3

AO3 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Joel Miller slams on the horn of his truck with all the frustration of a man who knows he’s done for.

Sure enough, the Jag still cuts him off, stopping short before the crosswalk as the light turns yellow to red.

Goddamn L.A. idiots.

Like he’s trying to prove Joel right, the driver of the Jag sticks his middle finger out the window. Joel leans on the horn again, telling himself this tool in the muscle car is all that’s got him bothered.

But then he hears your name on the radio. The hosts are filling airtime arguing about Mr. Right, and somebody - probably Tess - has hinted to the press that you might be the next Dream Girl.

You’re everywhere, your lust-drunk eyes glowing neon in Joel’s mind.

He wants to keep last night perfect, laid out exactly as it happened. But he’s revisited it a hundred times by now, wearing creases over the soft sounds you make when you’re close, and he knows already that the memory is ruined.

He can never hold on to good things for long.

You’re toying with him, he knows, chasing after him for the fun of it. You confirmed as much last night. But maybe Joel is a sucker for punishment, because it’s killing him, the thought that you might want him in your warm, wet mouth.

Joel’s cock twitches. He tightens his grip on the wheel. Idiot.

The light turns green. The Jag roars through the intersection. Joel shuts off the radio and drives on in silence.

He’s barely pulled up to Tommy’s place when the front door opens and Sarah runs to the car. She’s got her backpack in one hand and two napkin-wrapped pop-tarts in the other.

Joel eyes the pastries as she clambers into the passenger seat.

“You abandoning the food pyramid?”

Sarah shrugs. “Aunt Maria had to leave for work early, so Tommy made breakfast.”

“Tried real hard, did he?”

“He toasted them, if that’s what you mean.” Sarah holds out a pop-tart. “Brown sugar cinnamon?”

He grunts in surrender and accepts the pastry. “Seat belt.”

Sarah straps in, and he pulls out of the driveway. It’s barely a ten-minute drive to her school, but it’s one of Joel’s only chances to see her during filming.

“It’s going ok then,” he asks, “staying with Tommy?”

Sarah replies through a mouthful of crumbs. “S’good. I like going in the pool.”

“You sure? Cause if you wanna stay home I can find a sitter until the season wraps.”

Sarah raises an eyebrow. “Did Tess give you a raise I don’t know about?”

“That ain’t nothing for you to worry about, kid.”

“So it is something for me to worry about?”

Joel rolls his eyes. “You’re getting too smart for your own good.”

Sarah wrinkles her forehead. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“For my good, then.”

Sarah props her converse up on the dash. Golden yellow. They match her North Hollywood Prep tee.

Joel nudges her feet back down. “You got that dance team audition today, right? Feel good about it?”

“I told you, I did it last year so it’s like I’m on the squad already. But Tommy still wants to celebrate after.”

Sarah glances at Joel, and her voice wavers as she continues. “He said you might be getting off early today.”

Joel’s heart sinks. Tommy’s got no business getting her hopes up like that.

“’S only a possibility, kiddo.”

Sarah crumples up the paper towel in her lap. “Okay.”

Joel reaches across the console to squeeze her hand. “I’m gonna try my best to make it, but it might be out of my control.”

“I get it, Dad. It’s okay.” She looks out the window.

There’s a knot in Joel’s chest. She deserves so much better than him.

“Wanna listen to music or something?”

Sarah turns to him. “Will you let me pick for once? Since you feel bad for being negligent?”

“Damn, kid, my filming schedule is hard enough without you using five-dollar words to twist the knife.” Joel stops at an intersection and sighs. “But yeah, play whatever you want.”

Sarah beams, then rummages through the CDs Joel keeps in the console. “Got it!”

She chooses Summerbash. Of course she does.

The album cover teases Joel from the corner of his eye. A photo of you naked but for a few soap suds. His mind is all too happy to remind him what’s underneath.

Sarah misreads his scowl.

“Yeah, it sucks compared to her first album, but some of the beats are good! Julie wants to choreograph to them for the halftime show.”

She pops the disc in the ancient car stereo, and your voice fills the cab of the truck. You’ve been autotuned beyond recognition, but Joel’s pulse speeds up all the same.

He’s so fucked.

Sarah holds up the CD case, looking sideways at Joel. “I read a spoiler that she’s the Dream Girl you’re filming. Is it true?”

Joel taps his thumb on the steering wheel, checking his blind spot as he changes lanes.

“You know I ain’t allowed to tell you things like that.”

“She is, isn’t she? You must be flipping shit.”

“Language.”

 “Okay, flipping out.”

“’m not flipping anything. It doesn’t matter to me who the Dream Girl is. She goes on dates, and I point the camera. Same as every other season.”

Sarah narrows her eyes. “You’re being weird, Dad.”

“No one’s being weird.”

“Really weird. Is she stuck-up or something?”

Joel wishes that you were. Or cruel. Anything would be better than you, real and vulnerable and terrible at hiding it, finding meaning in his work, making him laugh. You, open wide and begging for him.

He swallows, keeps his voice steady.

“No,” he says. “She’s fine. And she ain’t officially the Dream Girl until Friday, so forget I said anything.”

“I knew it!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Joel lets Sarah celebrate. He finishes the drive while your voice talk-sings “Gimme It!” from the stereo.

Yeah, you’re gonna be the death of him.

The drop-off area at North Hollywood is crowded with parents trying to beat the first bell. Joel waits for a glimpse of open curb and pulls up. He puts the truck in park.

“Good luck today, kiddo. Even if you don’t need it.”

“Thanks.” Sarah picks up her bag and hops out of the car, hesitating before she shuts the door. “Maybe see you tonight?”

Joel’s throat is tight. “I really wanna be there.”

It’s seven in the morning when Eliza comes to your room bearing Courtney, a “prep itinerary” and some fantastic news. Every round of Mr. Right ends the same way, with a formal cocktail party and elimination ceremony, but this week Tess is shaking things up.

Instead of an evening cocktail party, you’re having a daytime pool party at the Mr. Right Villa. This means Eliza-sanctioned flip-flops for you, and for the crew, the possibility of an early wrap.

“What are you guys going to do tonight?” you ask an hour later, when you’ve finished the first half of the itinerary and are sitting through your blow-out. “If we finish early, I mean.”

Courtney sighs. “Aaron,” she says dreamily. “From Hinge. I’m praying he can take me to dinner before travel rounds start.”

Eliza shakes her head. “You two are going to jinx us. It’s a lot harder to film the pool party than the regular eliminations. On Ashley B.’s season we didn’t wrap it until three in the morning. Let’s just focus on getting you to your Suitors on time. I told Jacob to have the guys ready by 9:30.”

She delivers. It’s 9:24 by her watch when you pull up to the Mr. Right Villa, dressed in a lavender string bikini and a pair of translucent gauze pants.

Courtney spends a handful of precious seconds reminding you how long it will take her to re-do your hair and makeup if they get wet. Under no circumstances are you allowed to actually get in the pool at this pool party.

“Water will melt me,” you say. “Understood.”

Courtney grins. “Not that you’re unclean.”

Your legs splayed open in the mirror. Joel’s low voice, telling you how to fuck yourself.

Hiding your blush, you scramble out of the SUV.

At the Villa’s entrance, the host of Mr. Right is filming an intro to the pool party. An army of PAs navigates off camera, carrying inner tubes and umbrellas over their heads like worker ants. The line of them indents as they skirt around Tess where she’s issuing instructions from the center of the driveway.

She waves you and Eliza over at once. “Perfect timing. Ryan just got here.”

You’re spared having to ask who Ryan is when a lanky, bald cameraman emerges from the Villa and raises a hand to greet Tess.

You turn to her, confused. “Is Joel not working today?”

She raises an eyebrow at you. “He got here 20 minutes ago. He’s setting up by the pool. Ryan is here to fill in for your interview.”

“Oh, okay.” You deliberately avoid making eye contact with either producer. “Where do you guys want me?”

Eliza escorts you to the front of the Villa, and Ryan trains his camera on you while you answer questions about the Suitors you most want to see shirtless. When you’re done, Tess grabs Eliza and Ryan to look through some B-roll footage, then directs you to the pool.

“We need some footage of you in your swimsuit, Dream Girl. For the promos. Taking off your pants, that sort of thing. Joel will walk you through it.”

You bet he will. You follow the trail of PAs to the back of the Villa, trying to ignore the flutter in your ribcage.

The pool is even more crowded than the driveway, and you dodge a frantic Jacob hunting for a missing mic pack before you cross to the half of the patio that’s blocked off for filming.  

Joel is crouched by the edge of the water, frowning into his camera and fiddling with an attachment over the lens. He grunts in dissatisfaction and glances at his watch, oblivious to your approach.

You stop beside him.

“Hey, Miller.”

His profile breaks into a half-smile. “Morning, Cinderella.”

He’s still looking at his camera, pointing it at the water to test the attachment.

“Is that a waterproof lens?”

Joel shakes his head. “Polarizer. Blocks out glare from the pool so I can see you better.”

He turns the camera toward you. Then freezes. He looks up from the screen, taking in your chest, your bare stomach, the scant outline of lavender keeping you decent beneath your pants.

You smirk. “Is it working?”

“Nice outfit.” His voice is low.

You grin. “Tess told me you’re gonna help me take it off.”

“That so? Because I’m hardly in a position to be pissing off Tess right now.”

“Good thing we practiced, huh?”

Joel is still taking you in. “Reckon I wouldn’t mind practicing some more.”

Your stomach flips.

He stands up and checks his watch again. “We better start shooting. Keep your pants on for now.”

You’re trying to.

Joel starts with a few shots of you walking up to the pool, then switches to a full-body pan. You monitor your expression, conscious of the crew nearby, and try to distract yourself from the way Joel is looking at his camera.

The man is a study in tension, eyes locked on the screen, his grip tight on the handle.

You remember his hands clenching the back of your chair last night. Why didn’t he touch you?

Because it would get him fired? Probably no more than if Tess found out what already happened.

Maybe he gets off on teasing you. Well, two can play at that game.

You wait for Joel to pan the camera over your chest, then lift your arms above your head and stretch. You arch your back, and your bikini top follows, riding up to expose your breasts until your nipples are just barely covered.

Joel grimaces, and the camera shakes ever-so-slightly.

“You’re a menace,” he growls, checking the time before he resets the shot.

You smile innocently at him and adjust your top. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like you’re being tortured when you’re turned on?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I look like I’m being tortured when I’m being tortured.”

He steps back. “I’m gonna sweep the camera down again, and this time, when I signal, I need you to take off your cover-up.”

“Anything you want, Miller.”

“I want you to stop trying to kill me, Cinderella.”

He gets the camera in position.

You smirk. “Almost anything you want.”

He pans over you once more, nodding as the frame approaches your waist. You hook your thumbs in the waistband of your pants.

“Slowly,” he murmurs.

You flush at once, your core throbbing in recognition. Judging by the way Joel is tensing his jaw, his mind has gone to the same place.

You lower your pants to the ground. Joel follows the motion with his camera, then pans up to capture the bare skin of your thighs. He takes in a slow inhale, keeping his eyes trained on the screen.

“You’re devastating,” he says quietly.

Your body is tuned to his every word, aching to come apart for him again. You sigh softly.

Joel glances up, holding your gaze for a long moment. 

Deliberately, he steps back. “Good. Got it on the first take.”

“One more to be safe?”

He shakes his head. “No time.”

He pulls out his walkie and signals to production that you’re finished. 

Joel has never wrapped a shot like this after a single take. You shoot him a skeptical look as you pull your pants back on.

“Either I’m suddenly much better at posing, or you have someplace to be after our early wrap, Miller.”

He scowls. “What early wrap? Pool party’s a disaster every time. On Ashley Benson’s season – ”

“– you didn’t finish until three AM. Eliza told me. Why is everyone around here so pessimistic?”

“Cause we know what a bitch it is to make lighting good when everyone is greased-up with sunscreen.”

“I mean, hating sunscreen seems like a symptom of pessimism, not the source of it. And you still haven’t told me what you’re doing later.”

Joel readjusts the polarizer on his lens, expressionless. “You’re looking at it, Cinderella.” His words are harsh, like he’s convincing himself as much as you. “We’re gonna be here all night.”

Not if you can help it. He deserves the night off. Your whole team does. How can you get them out of here as fast as possible?

You contemplate the day’s itinerary. It takes an eternity to film the weekly Love Letter Ceremony, but if you get started by 2:00, the crew will almost certainly be done before sunset.

You can’t start the Ceremony until you’ve had a reasonably personal conversation with every Suitor who is up for elimination. Thirteen of them in total, and you have a little under four hours.

Ambitious, but you recorded Summerbash with a straight face. You can do this.

The crew finishes setting up. Suitors spill out onto the patio.

You charge right up to them, weaving through body oil and board shorts to grab a scruffy twenty-something whose name you can’t remember.

Eliza mouths it over his Hawaiian-shirt-clad shoulder as you escort him to a lounge chair. Zack. Right. You don’t let yourself forget again.

Zack is talkative, so you don’t need to sit with him for very long before he’s opened up about beach days back home in North Carolina. You glance at Eliza. Is this enough personal information? She nods.

You look around for another Suitor you can talk to. Jasper meets your eyes and strides over. He places a hand on Zack’s shoulder, cutting off a monologue about jet-skis.

“Mind if I steal her?”

Zack takes his leave. One conversation down, and you think you’re ahead of schedule. You wish Eliza would let you wear a watch.

Jasper takes your elbow and leads you to a cabana, where he’s set up a champagne toast. Quick and romantic. Perfect.

Only when you get to the cabana, there’s no champagne to be found. It takes a PA twenty minutes to hunt down a replacement, and then the guys all feel so bad about the mix-up that they’re hesitant to interrupt Jasper’s time.

When a Suitor finally does grab you, it’s Sasha, a wide-necked hockey player who production has already decided to send home. He wants to sit with you and go through photos of his best games.

The instant Sasha pulls out the first picture, Joel interrupts with a growl of frustration.

Sasha’s photos are printed on glossy paper. They’re not only unreadable on camera, but they also reflect light from the pool all over your face. Eliza peeks over Joel’s shoulder at the screen, then winces.

“You guys look like you’re telling scary stories at a campfire. We have to move.”

It takes two more locations before you find a spot that works. At least an hour must have passed by now. You can read it in the lock of Joel’s shoulders, in the frantic way Eliza checks the time.

Then Sasha launches into a highly detailed story about something called backchecking. You’re contemplating a mad dash for freedom when Mike interrupts.

“Hey, Dream Girl,” he says in his soft voice. “Can I steal you for a second?”

You look at him with raw gratitude.

Sasha doesn’t look away from your face, lifting a hand to shoo Mike away.

“Later, dude. We’re talking.”

No.

Mike furrows his brow. “Okay, I’ll come back in a few.”

The feeling that overtakes you as he leaves to refill his margarita can only be described as despair. It’s another ten minutes of Sasha describing a fight he got into with the ref before Mike returns.

The two of you cozy up on a daybed at the edge of the patio, and Mike pulls out a set of “get-to-know-you” questions on index cards.

Sweet or salty. Morning or night. Hug or kiss.

You shoot a knowing glance at Eliza at the last one. She raises her eyebrows as if to say she knows she’s good.

“Kiss,” you say to Mike.

He smiles, then leans in to give you one. You kiss him back, bracing your palm against his bare chest. When you pull back, Joel is glaring into his camera so hard that even Mike notices.

“What’s up?” he asks, looking curiously at Joel. “Is there a shadow on my face?”

“It’s probably me,” you say, taking Mike’s hand. “I bet my makeup is all kinds of smudged from the heat.”

You use the pretense of a touch-up to end your time early, then regroup with your team in the Green Room. It turns out you really do need to fix your makeup. Courtney powders over the smudges in your foundation. When she’s done, Eliza offers you a water bottle and a sandwich.

You turn to her. “What time is it?”

She sighs. “Twelve-thirty.”

More than half your time gone, and you’ve only talked to four Suitors.

“Can we do this differently?” you ask. “Maybe you can walkie to Jacob when a conversation wraps, so he can send in the men faster?”

“I suppose. He’ll still have to nudge the Suitors, and they might be slow, but it can’t hurt.”

It helps. A little. When you return to the party and grab Solomon, it’s only a few minutes before Nick S. comes to steal you away.

The conversations start to blur together. A story about Nick J.’s dog. Chris pulling you close for a kiss on the cheek. Then Paulie doing the same. You force yourself to keep up your Dream Girl poise as you chain through the interactions with blinding efficiency.

You still fall behind.

Joel halts production in the afternoon so he can reset the reflectors. When he’s done, Zack steals you for a second conversation, fumbling through a plea to stay for one more week. Then Henry pulls you aside, even though he’s already won a Love Letter this week, and somehow you waste almost an hour on conversations you didn’t need to have.

You get through the last few interactions knowing that you haven’t done enough. But it’s something. The crew will be out in time for a late dinner.

Lucas is the last Suitor to steal you. He’s the chief suspect for the theft of Jasper’s champagne, and he’s been drowning himself in margaritas all day. He slurs that you look like a dream come true in your bikini as he takes a seat beside you on the daybed.

He wiggles his eyebrows playfully. “Wanna help me put on sunscreen?”

You accept, knowing it will make good TV. You’re sitting cross-legged behind him, spreading the lotion on his back, when he breaks the fourth wall and points at Joel.

“Dude,” he says. “You gotta come closer and get a slow-mo of these Dream Girl hands on my back. You can add in saxophone music behind it.”

Joel levels him with a stony glare. “Shot’s fine how it is.”

Lucas shrugs it off.

“Suit yourself, man,” he says, then turns over his shoulder to look at you. “Honey. There’s a big question I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

He sets his face in a solemn mask. “How many people,” he says, “do you think have peed in the Mr. Right Villa pool?”

You burst into exhausted laughter. Lucas springs to his feet and takes advantage of your distraction to scoop you up in his arms.

He sprints to the pool and takes a running leap into the water.

You’re ready to lay into him when you come up for air, but he covers your protest with a kiss. His hands reach beneath your legs, pulling them to wrap around his waist, and he holds you close in the water. The patio falls silent around you.

Your face is burning when you manage to pull away. You try to break out of his embrace, but he’s a solid wall of gym-bro muscle.

Lucas pushes a wet lock of hair out of your face and gives you an “aw-shucks” grin. You can’t bring yourself to smile back.

“That’s enough.” Joel’s gruff voice breaks the silence. “Get out of the water. Now.”

Lucas releases his grip. You wade to the edge of the pool.

Joel sets down his camera and offers you a single, broad hand. You take it, boosting yourself from the water. He tugs you to your feet.

“You alright?”

He’s quiet, asking only you.

His brown eyes scan your face. In the sunlight, you notice that they’re flecked with gold. 

You swallow. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Tess strides over, turning you away from Joel so she can inspect your face.

“Shit, Dream Girl. Your makeup is fucked.”

She snags a nearby PA.

“Tell the crew to take fifteen and call whoever they need so they can cancel their plans tonight. No way we’re wrapping early now.”

Beside you, Joel stiffens. The center of his brow creases. His next breath is slow, like it’s pressing down disappointment.

Is this what crestfallen looks like on Joel Miller? A vice squeezes in your chest.

A smart Dream Girl would follow Tess’s lead here.

You grab her arm anyway. “No. Wait. Don’t cancel the early wrap.”

She looks at you, impatient. “We’re about to film a three-hour elimination ceremony, kid. It’s already four.”

You shake your head. “It won’t take three hours, I swear. Night one took forever because Eliza had to remind me who all the Suitors were, but after today, I know their names.”

Tess is already losing interest. You let go of her arm and point at a sandy-haired investment banker.

“That’s Neil.”

You gesture to each suitor in turn.

“Adam. Sasha. Solomon. Jasper, Mike, Levi. Nick S. and Nick J.. Zack, Paulie, and Chris. Lucas is in the pool. Henry and Brooks already have love letters, so I don’t need to say their names tonight, but I know them.”

You stare determinedly at Tess. She sighs. “Okay, two hours for the elimination ceremony. But it’s at least that long again before we get your face ready.”

“Then don’t get my face ready,” you say. An idea is beginning to form. You look around the patio for a Suitor who can play to the cameras.

Brooks steps out of the Villa, yesterday’s love letter pinned to his open shirt. He pauses as he takes in the stalled, silent crew.

You turn to Joel. He’s studying you, expression unreadable.

“Miller,” you direct. “Camera up.”

You take off toward Brooks, breaking into a jog and springing into his arms. He catches you, looking startled for a fraction of a second before his features smooth into curated delight.

You lock your ankles around his waist and lean down to kiss him.

He kisses you back, grinning softly when you pull away. “Hi, beautiful.”

He’s flawless.

“Hi,” you say. You drop your eyes, putting on your best bashful expression. “My makeup is ruined.”

He lifts a hand to cup your face and gives a characteristically Prince Charming response.

“You’re still just as beautiful to me.”

You stay still for a moment, making sure Joel can get the shot.

“Thank you,” you tell him.

You leap down, then run back to Tess.

“You want me to be vulnerable, right? Then let me do the elimination ceremony without makeup. You can edit a whole storyline around it.”

Tess considers. You push on before she can say no.

“I can film an interview with Eliza about how scary it is, and you can get guys like Brooks to say gentlemanly things in their interviews.”

Tess sighs. “It’s actually a good idea.”

You beam.

She crosses her arms. “But I’m still not letting you film like that. You look like the clown from It. I’ll send Courtney to the Green Room to meet you. She can put you in a quick no-makeup look. Concealer and mascara.”

She activates her walkie and signals to the crew. “We’re starting the elimination ceremony at four-thirty, everyone. Get moving. Six-o-clock wrap if no one else fucks up.”

She turns back to you. “Go clean your face, Dream Girl. Upstairs bathroom.”

You scamper off before she can reconsider, a heady excitement racing inside you. You can’t remember the last time you called the shots like that.

In the bathroom, you realize Tess’s comparison to the It clown was generous. Pennywise at least was serving clean lines.

There are makeup remover towelettes on the counter. Most likely for the Suitors. You steal one and get to work taking off what remains of your face.

In the mirror, the door opens.

Joel slips into the bathroom. His gaze slides over your barely covered body, lingering on the curve of your ass.

He locks the door. “Why did you do that?”

It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about your argument with Tess.

You turn to face him. “I wanted to.”

He walks closer, looking at you like he’s trying to make sense of something.

“You wanted to do the Letter Ceremony without makeup on?”

“I’ve been on camera without much makeup before.” Your words come out unsteady as he draws near. “I know what I’m getting into.”

Joel closes the space between you, resting an arm on the countertop.

“’S not gonna look like you think, Cinderella.”

“Are you calling me ugly, Miller?”

“You know I don’t think that.”

“Are you mad at me for something?”

He braces his other arm on the counter, scaffolding you in the impossible span of his shoulders. He looks at you steadily.

“No,” he says. “But it ain’t your job to worry about when we quit filming.”

“Then call me an overachiever.”

Joel laughs softly.

He’s left open the top button of his henley. The collar stretches wide with every rise of his chest.

You look back up at him, piecing together his words.

“Joel. Is this your way of saying thank you?”

A smirk spreads across his face, and he shakes his head slowly.

“Had something else in mind for that.”

He picks you up, calloused hands warm on the backs of your thighs, and places you on top of the counter.

He nudges your legs apart and takes a step so that he’s standing between them. Your heart stutters.

Joel’s hands go to your hip, his fingers finding one of the knots that holds your bikini in place. He undoes it with a steady focus, then turns his attention to the remaining tie.

When he’s finished, he slides his thumb beneath the useless string, tracing your bare hipbone.

A single, loose scrap of cloth is all that covers you now. Joel strokes his index finger once over the outline of your slit, releasing a shiver of sparks inside you. You gasp.

His smirk widens. “That’s what I thought, pretty girl.”

He trails his eyes up to your chest. His hands lift to sides of your bikini top, and he pushes it up. You’re bare before him.

Joel slides his warm hands over your breasts. It’s dizzying, the feel of him touching you at last.

“This what you wanted last night?”

His voice is rough, a slow drag that strikes a match inside you.

He rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and you whimper.

“This why you were teasing me this morning? Showing off like a little slut?”

He lowers his mouth and licks your nipple with his hot tongue. You moan.

“Fuck, Joel.”

He raises a hand to cover your mouth. “Quiet, pretty girl.”

He returns his mouth to your breast, closing his teeth around your nipple and biting softly.

You shudder. He feels it, tightens his hold on you.

He nudges his thumb over your mouth, sliding it between your lips. You run your tongue over it, sucking on him.

He pushes deeper, and you take his finger down to the knuckle, letting out a quiet moan in spite of yourself.

Joel’s eyes flicker shut. “Fuck, Cinderella.”

He opens his eyes and lifts his head to watch you, like he can’t believe you’re real. “You love this, don’t you?”

You whimper softly in agreement.

He pulls his hand free and rises to his full height. You look up at him, not bothering to hide your desperation.

“Please.”

“You’re filthy, pretty girl.” He taps his wet thumb against your lower lip. “Begging for it right here, for me to fill this slutty mouth with my cock.”

His words burn a fuse inside you, setting loose a hazy, overpowering need.

You grab his belt and tug him close. Your hands slide down to find him where he’s pressed against the front of his jeans.

He’s hard for you already. You gasp at the feel of it, running your thumb over his length.

Joel shudders. He closes his eyes as though he’s lost a battle with himself, and then he tilts his hips, thrusting up into your touch.

You stroke him again, and he lets out a ragged exhale.

He’s so beautiful like this. It stops your breath. You whisper out his name and reach for his zipper.

He opens his eyes, and his face is suddenly tight. His hands catch ahold of your wrists.

You whimper, wracked by a longing that’s impossible to control now that you’ve felt him.

“Please, Joel.”

He leads your hands back to the counter, holding them in place.

You glare at him. “And you say I’m a tease.”

“We ain’t got much time, Cinderella.” He releases one of your hands so he can hook a single broad finger beneath the remains of your swim bottom, nudging the fabric so that it falls away. “And I mean to spend it playing with this wet little pussy of yours.”

He grazes the knuckle of his index finger slowly along your folds.

You light up for him, a surge of desire coming forth like it’s been waiting all your life for his touch.

You struggle to clear your head. “You had your chance to touch me yesterday, Miller. It’s my turn now.”

“That so?” Joel slides his finger over your clit. Your body responds automatically, hips bucking against him. He raises a smug eyebrow at you. “Don’t think this cunt of yours wants to take turns.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

He nods sympathetically and strokes your clit again.

“Fuck, Joel.”

“That’s it, pretty girl. Let yourself feel good.”

You’re falling apart for him, and he knows it. He traces a slow, patient circle around your clit, studying your face as the pleasure ignites inside you.

You mumble out your final protest, your body shuddering.

“I’ll – fuck – I’ll flip you for it.”

Joel looks at you in shocked delight, a rare, real smile spreading across his face.

“You offering to flip a coin so you can suck my cock?”

He’s still circling your clit, his fingers asking a steady question that your body is all too ready to answer. “Do you even have a coin, Cinderella?”

“Not – not exactly.” You gasp, fighting to stay afloat as your desire swells. “Or you could be nice and – God – and give me what I want.”

His eyes are dancing. He sinks to his knees before the counter, then spreads you open with both hands. He gives you a long look, like he’s memorizing the sight of you.

“Ain’t my job to be nice to you,” he says. Then he leans forward and licks a slow, greedy stripe along your core.

You whimper.

“Gonna need you to keep quiet for me now, pretty girl.” He strokes you with his index finger. “Can you be good for me?”

You nod softly, and he runs his tongue over you again. You bite your lip and rock your hips against him.

He hums appreciatively and brings his tongue to your clit, fast and insistent, stoking the blaze inside you. Your legs start to tremble, and he guides them to sling over his shoulders.

Your hand tangles in his soft curls. He shudders at the touch, looking up to catch you with his dark gaze.

The sight of him is obscene, panting with lust, beard coated in the slick of your arousal. His voice is raw with need when he speaks.

“You’re heaven, pretty girl.”

He pulls your hips as close as he can and lowers his mouth with a desperate urgency. He slides his tongue inside you, and the crude intimacy of it, Joel’s mouth inside your cunt is enough to take you to the edge.

His fingers find your clit, and there’s nothing teasing left in his touch. His pace is relentless, claiming you, setting free a primitive, unstoppable fire.

You want so much more from him, but you can’t hold out any longer. You clench your thighs around Joel’s head and surrender, biting on your own wrist to stifle your cry as you light up inside. 

Joel lifts his head to watch you come. He slows his pace on your sensitive clit, brushing his thumb lazily over you as you catch your breath. You tremble at the soft contact and run your fingers gently through his hair.

Joel rises to his feet, dropping his eyes to retie your bikini strings. When he's finished, you push yourself up and slide off the counter to stand on unsteady legs. You're separated from Joel by the smallest cushion of heat. He tugs your top back into place, adjusting it so you’re once again decent.

It’s almost unbearable, the warm and steady way he puts you back together. You feel a sudden instinct to be close to him, to press yourself into his chest, but you know that’s not what he wants. Instead, you raise your palm as if to brace yourself and rest it over his heart.

He steps back, and your hand falls.

“You head out first, Cinderella. Can’t keep Courtney waiting.”

You leave him in the bathroom, his hair mussed, and swallow down a feeling that sits tight in your throat.

 --

By Eliza’s watch, it’s 6:19 when you pin the final Love to See You Again letter to Lucas’s button-up. You say your goodbyes to three despondent, letter-less Suitors, and just like that you’ve made it through your first week of filming.

The Villa’s parking lot is glowing with amber light as Eliza walks you to back to the SUV. Courtney rushes past, squeezing you into a quick hug on the way to her car, her Hinge date successfully scheduled. The PAs chatter giddily around you, unable to believe they’re out while the sun is still in the sky.

You spot Joel in the cab of his truck. He raises a hand to you as he turns the key in his ignition. You hear a swell of music as the engine hums to life.

It’s Bob Dyan. “Boots of Spanish Leather.” The kind of music your parents loved.

The ballad echoes in your mind, continuing long after you return to your plush, empty hotel room. Finally, you pick up your guitar and take a seat on the balcony. You sing your favorite verse.  

Oh, but if I had the stars from the darkest night And the diamonds from the deepest ocean I’d forsake them all for your sweet kiss For that’s all I’m wishin’ to be ownin’

Then your hands move of their own accord, shifting to create a wordless melody. It’s slow and deep, the type of song that you’ve forgotten how to find. You watch the setting sun in the distance, steady on its path to meet the sea.

[bewitched-hours]

Hehehehe nice food (Walks away with sus angst bluududx fem!child reader shaped throat)

and no i did not kiss the knife that i used to stab yu and bluudud >:3

ok enough angst time to move on-

So err the spectre removed reader memory but forgo to erase her memory of bluudud so reader slowly getting her memory back (if they hang out alot which yes they do)

i dunno if this is the last part or not just based on yu

-Kikiki Anon(i changed cus i don wanna be a kiclown no more)

... now, I'm not about to say I'm against making more of this because it feels eerily similar to Jane and John and those two already deserve happiness so fuck it, I'll turn this into a whole series if you want, Kikiki-

Like part 1 and part 2, reader gets She/Her~

Something must've cracked...

Something happened for your mind to suddenly have these flickers of your old self returning. And it didn't go unnoticed when it happened.

The first time was with 1x1x1x1, who was supposed to simply make sure that you wouldn't do anything stupid to yourself.

But she caught the way you quietly mumbled how cool he looked and her head practically snapped around to look at you in shock, meeting an unfamiliar sparkle in your eyes for mere seconds before it seemed to fizzle out and you were back to 'normal'.

But when he told the others, it caused them to pay a lot more attention to you and see if there was anything they could do to maybe cause these flickers purposefully.

So far it seemed that it was usually things you used to love talking about when you were still a survivor.

Pr3typriincess making you a bow in your favourite colour, C00lkidd asking you to play hide and seek for a change instead of tag, even Bluudud begrudgingly having you watch him play a game you showed interest in even though it felt boring to him and he had a hard time not complaining about it...

But it did bring you back... Somewhat...

You were never there for long but the more they tried, the longer you seemed to stay Lucid. The longer you were back and babbling praises to them for being such good friends to you.

The longer you seemed to remember...

At first it was scary when you remembered for longer than a few seconds, wondering why you were different and why you weren't with the survivors anymore.

But you gradually adjusted and would even begin to tell C00lkidd, Bluudud and Pr3typriincess about how the survivors took care of you. Especially 007n7.

You've mostly reacted to the other killers like C00lkidd would but weren't against just goofing off and going along with whatever was happening.

During rounds though... The Spectre would get a grip on you again and although it felt like all the progress was reset, you still remembered. You just needed time to adjust again.

Not that anyone really cared. You were just another kid in the cabin, usually off with one of the others to play games or gossip over tea.

But most of your time was taken by Bluudud wanting his ego-booster back.... Or so he claimed.

You could tell he was genuinely starting to enjoy his time with you but was too prideful to admit it. Rather lashing out at anyone that pointed it out or just denying it.

It didn't change the fact he would sometimes wake up from nightmares and look for you first to hold onto for comfort...

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[chosotallgf]

NEEDY WIFE

Husband!nanami kento x pregnant f!reader

Warnings: little fluff, nsfw, bj, pregnancy

kento arrived home exhausted after his third overtime shift this week, he been working extra hard these past few past months because he knows you both are expecting.

Ever since you told him the news he been on top of his game making sure you are well taken care of and everything is good with you and the baby.

Even when you first had morning sickness he would wake up from his beauty sleep in the middle of as soon as he heard you throwing up in the bathroom to be right by your side rubbing your back gently and kissing your head saying everything will be fine.

seeing him come home with bag under his eye you knew you wanted to help your husband in some type of way. Watching him strip down to his boxers gave you a great idea to help him relax for the night.

“How the day at the office Kent?” you walked slowly up to him putting your arms around his tense shoulders. Kento smiled as when he felt your touch and felt you pressed up against him

“typically boring day, how’s our baby doing? Is she behaving?” You both don’t know the gender yet but he sometimes like to think it’s already a girl. “I got to eat plenty today and no throwing up either finally”

“Good that’s what I like to hear” he says as he bring his face closer to kiss your neck than your lips. As the kiss got more aggressively he picks you up walking back and falling on the bed allowing you to be on top, letting his tongue in and returning the same energy causing you to moaned in his mouth.

You decide now is the perfect the time for your little surprise. pulling back from the kisses making kento wine a bit from the loss of your touch. “Honey?” He said confusedly. You felt the budge in his pants getting hard.

“Just lay back and relax Kent, don’t t worry about anything else” as you Unbutton his pants not even waiting a sec in between, you got straight to giving him a few strokes up and down his dick.

Getting to tease him was your favorite part as you swirl your tongue around his tip causing him to start breathing heavy. While Also making sure you make full eye contact with him the entire time. Deciding to go fully down because that wasn’t enough for you.

“Fuck sweetie” was the next thing you heard from him. He Grips the side of your face to help him control himself not wanting to cum too fast for his beautiful wife. no, he needs to enjoy this moment fully.

You picked up the pace a bit bobbing up and down, saliva already starting to run down all of your chin from your mess. Kent was getting close and your moans over him wasn’t helping at all.

That was it you thought, he was about to cum. griping your hair gently Kento hips buckle and finish in your mouth. Than Pulling out making your mouth make a pop sound, He placed his hands on your cheeks bringing you back up to him to wipe around your mouth

“you don’t know how much I missed those lips around me, thank you i truly don’t deserve you” he pleaded to you showering you in more kisses

A/N: kinda got lazy towards the end but oh well! I finally figured out how to use dividers so hopefully the fics would be looking more aesthetically. I’m thinking about making a part 2 about the gender reveal. 

Likes, rebolgs, and comments are appreciated!!

© all works belong to chosotallgf. do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

[cherryfcola]

Operation: Baby Shadow

I saw a video of baby shadow on tiktok and I thought I might write a little something.

Baby!Shadow x reader (not in a weird way shoo shoo)

Pure fluff!

The day started normally enough—if “normal” meant Rouge dragging you out of bed with zero warning and a pair of sunglasses that screamed I’m here to cause problems on purpose.

“You’re coming with me,” she said, heels clicking against your hardwood floor like it was a runway. “Emergency.”

You groaned, shoving your face into the pillow. “What kind of emergency?”

“The kind where Shadow got hit by a Chaos artifact and now he’s…a baby.”

You sat up.

“What.”

Rouge smirked. “Glad I have your attention.”

⸻

You expected a chibi version of Shadow brooding in the corner, arms crossed like a pouty anime character. What you did not expect was a literal toddler-sized Shadow the Hedgehog sitting in the middle of Rouge’s living room, glaring at a juice box like it had offended his entire bloodline.

“Is that…him?” you asked, stepping cautiously into the room.

“Yep.” Rouge popped a bubble of gum, hands on her hips. “Found him in some ancient ruins. He touched a glowing orb—big mistake. Now we’re here.”

Little Shadow glanced up at you. Same red eyes. Same emo scowl. Except…his proportions were tiny. His gloves barely fit, his chest fur was fluffier, and his little feet kicked at the carpet in a way that was almost—dare you say it—adorable.

“He looks like a Build-A-Bear with trauma,” you whispered.

Shadow narrowed his eyes. “I heard that.”

Rouge’s laughter was immediate. “His attitude is still full-sized, thank Chaos.”

You knelt beside him, lips twitching into a smile. “Hey, Shads. You okay in there?”

He looked at you, and for a second, something softened in his gaze. “You smell like home.”

Your heart did a triple backflip into a pile of warm laundry. “Oh my god.”

⸻

Rouge was having way too much fun with the situation. “Alright, baby bat. Let’s try some talking. Say Rouge.”

Shadow blinked up at her. “…Roosh.”

Rouge clutched her heart dramatically. “That’s close enough! He loves me.”

Then she turned to you. “Your turn. Bet he calls you Y/N like a champ.”

You knelt down again, putting on your most encouraging smile. “Okay, Shadow. Can you say Y/N?”

He tilted his head. Thought about it.

“…Babe.”

Rouge dropped her gum.

You blinked. “I—what?”

“Babe,” Shadow repeated, like it was the most obvious word in the world. “Mine.”

Rouge was wheezing. “Oh my god, he’s still simping for you! In toddler form!”

“I do not simp,” Shadow growled.

You were blushing so hard you were about to become a fire hazard.

⸻

The next few days were wild.

Shadow, now stuck in his chibi form, refused to wear anything other than his own gear, which Rouge had to custom-tailor smaller. (There was a tiny leather jacket involved. It was glorious.) He also insisted on sitting in your lap anytime you were within five feet of him.

“Shadow, I need to make dinner.”

“I assist.”

“You can’t reach the stove.”

“I supervise.”

Mostly, he just clung to your shirt and pointed at things like a princely cat demanding tribute. When you handed him a carrot to gnaw on while you cooked, he called it “primitive” and asked for chili dogs.

“Who even taught you that word?”

“Knuckles.”

“Of course.”

⸻

One afternoon, Rouge left you alone with him while she tried to find a Chaos-reversal expert.

“Don’t break him,” she warned, sliding on her shades. “He’s already emotionally unstable.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

After she left, you looked at Shadow curled up on your couch, swaddled in a blanket and watching Looney Tunes like he was studying enemy tactics.

“You doing okay, baby hedgehog?”

He nodded solemnly. “You are warm.”

You chuckled. “You’re clingier like this, you know.”

“Still me,” he said, staring at you with deadly sincerity. “Just smaller. Still want you.”

That sentence would’ve knocked you flat if he hadn’t followed it up with: “Also, I request spaghetti.”

⸻

There were definitely highlights to babysitting Baby Shadow.

• When he tried to fight a Roomba.

• When he climbed into your laundry basket and called it “a tactical pod.”

• When he threw a tantrum because his juice box was “too weak.”

And then, the moment that took the cake:

You were trying to brush his head quills—because he refused to let Rouge do it—and you gently told him to “sit still, babe.”

He turned around and said: “You called me babe. I win.”

Your soul left your body.

⸻

By the fourth day, Rouge returned with a glowing crystal and a look of triumph.

“Alright, hedgie,” she said. “Time to undo the baby curse.”

Shadow crossed his tiny arms. “I like being small.”

Rouge arched a brow. “You like not being able to reach the bathroom sink?”

“…Less so.”

He looked at you, eyes softening. “Will I still be yours when I’m big again?”

You knelt in front of him, brushing a hand through his ridiculous quills. “You were always mine, Shadow.”

With a glow and a whirl of Chaos energy, he transformed back—taller, sleeker, the same broody edge, but now with slightly rumpled quills and a faint blush on his cheeks.

You blinked.

He blinked.

You both said, “Hey.”

Rouge rolled her eyes so hard you could hear it.

⸻

Later that night, the three of you sat on the couch—Rouge sipping wine, you nursing hot chocolate, Shadow leaning with his arm draped behind you like a middle-schooler on a date.

“I remember everything,” he said suddenly.

You glanced at him. “From when you were tiny?”

He nodded. “Every word. Every cuddle. Every time you kissed my forehead.”

You blushed. “Well, you were adorable. I had to.”

“You still do.”

Rouge groaned. “Get a room.”

“You’re the one in my apartment,” you shot back.

Shadow smirked, smug and a little dangerous. “She’s just mad she didn’t get more cuddles.”

Rouge nearly choked on her wine. “Excuse me! I coddled you!”

“You tucked me in once,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “And called me a gremlin.”

“That’s called affection!”

You laughed so hard you nearly dropped your mug.

⸻

That night, curled in bed with the fully-grown Shadow pressed against your back, he murmured something into your shoulder.

“What was that?” you asked sleepily.

“…Still think you smell like home.”

You smiled.

“You too, babe.”

He groaned, but didn’t correct you.

[queenofhalloween94]

Master List: RWIWY Ch. List

Ch. 6 Summary: His possessive streak comes back

Warnings:🔞 a/b/o dynamics, mildly dubious consent, omegaverse, p in v sex, biting, marking, possessive Joel

Where Do You Think You're Going?

It’s morning , the storm has passed. Snow is piled high, light pouring through the cabin window. You wake alone for the first time since Joel claimed you. A fire crackles. His scent lingers. But he’s outside — chopping wood. You wrap yourself in a coat and quietly open the cabin door. The air bites. You take one cautious step onto the porch, boots crunching lightly in the snow. It’s the first breath of freedom you've had in days. No fever. No rut. Just cold air, sunlight, and a body that finally feels like yours again.

   But then—you hear it.

  A crash.

  A growl.

  Footsteps slamming through snow.

  Joel’s voice, low and furious, before he’s even visible. "Get back inside. Now.”

  You turn.

  He’s charging up the hill, axe discarded in the snow behind him, sweat freezing at his temples, eyes wild. Not angry. Terrified.

  Startled, you freeze up telling him, "I—I just wanted air. I’m fine, Joel—”

  Joel cutting you off, growl caught in his throat. “You are not fine. "He grabs you by the waist—not rough, but firm—and backs you through the door like you're made of glass.

 Once they’re inside, the door slams shut behind them. Joel his voice low, slightly shaking  “You don’t open that door without me. Ever.”

  You blinked, stunned. His hands are still on you. Holding you too tightly. “I’m not in heat anymore. I wasn’t going far—” You try to say but get cut off again.

  “You think I give a damn about your heat?” His voice cracks. Not loud. Just… breaking. “There could be infected. Hunters. Strays. Hell, even the cold could take you if I ain’t there to stop it.” His eyes are wild and dilated as he gets more manic. His scent nearly chokes you from how burned and rotted it's gotten.

   You have to get away, you go to the bedroom and shut the door. Taking deep breaths trying to calm down. You're sitting on the edge of the bed, arms curled around your knees. Joel stands near the door, head bowed, jaw tight. The silence is heavy, aching.

  He finally turns. Joel quietly says “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  You don't answer right away.

  He crosses the room. Slow. Careful. “I ain’t good at this. At explainin’ things when I’m afraid.” He kneels down in front of you, eyes dark with guilt. “But when I saw you out there…” He swallows hard. “It was like my chest collapsed. Thought maybe you’d slipped, gotten hurt. Thought maybe you’d…” He hesitates, “…run.”

  Your eyes soften, looking down into his red puffy eyes, the wild manic gaze subdued. “I wasn’t trying to leave you, Joel.”

  He nods. Slowly. Eyes locked to you. “I know that now. But right then… all I could think was that I’d marked you—put my teeth in you—and still wasn’t enough to keep you safe.” He reaches for your hand.

  You let him take your hand, “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  He’s silent for a moment. Then he speaks, voice barely above a breath. “I want you to choose me. Every day. Not ‘cause you have to… but ‘cause you feel what I feel.”

  You lean into him, he lets your fingers lace through his, lets you scent brush his jaw. His whole body tenses like he’s holding back from crumbling. Your scent that's now mixed with his falls over him in waves, his shoulder slump in relief.

  Softly you admit “I already do.” Giving his hand a gentle squeeze with your hand.

  He exhales hard—like your words crack something open in his chest. Then he rises to sit beside you, tugs you gently into his lap, and just holds you there. Arms wrapped tight around you, hands splayed across you back like he needs to feel you breathing.

  He buries his face into your hair murmuring, “I’m gonna mess this up sometimes. But I’ll try and be better.” He presses a kiss to your hair. A slightly, possessive edge returns to his voice “You’re everything I never thought I’d get to have. And now that I do… I ain’t ever lettin’ go.”

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

**Thank you for reading**

[mahalshairyballs]

Bob, bipolar disorder and meth use

I'm at a place in my hyperfixation where I'm researching Meth addiction (I'd already researched Bipolar disorder) and oof what a dangerous mix for someone's mental health *insert sweating emoji*.

Meth has almost all the same effects than a manic episode has with someone with Bipolar (+ much worse physical side effects & creating dependence). From the few sources I've read it's a very unpredictable concoction that can cancel each other out or just make the symptoms of Bipolar exponentially worse. Which also makes it very hard for practitians to diagnose because of their similar effects/symptoms on mood regulation.

It opened up a lot of questions and stuff to explore with Bob's backstory (and story within the fic I'm writing). For example, I'm pretty sure Bob has never been properly diagnosed for his Bipolar. He said he's had these moods since he was young (so not caused by his meth use, which can happen) but doesn't use any diagnosis by name (let's step aside the exec reason for that). He only described what he's been feeling. His meth addiction could explain 1) Why he didn't receive a lot of good mental health care in his life, less accessible for him but also 2) why he was never diagnosed with Bipolar.

Another question that arises with that is, why use meth? He might not have consciously chosen meth as 'his drug', it could've been an unfortunate sequence of circumstances. Although he did start by being addicted to another drug in middle grade/high school. Opioids I think? (Ah if someone could find me his file from the movie in a good enough resolution. I've been searching for it!) Then he switched to meth later on. So why? Well, so far my hypothesis is that Bob has much longer and frequent episodes of depression between his manic episodes. And he might 'miss' these manic episodes, since they at least don't make him feel, well, s*******. So he might have started to take meth because it's a stimulant that recreates those highs. Thing is, it'd mess up with his body much more than that.

I'd be interested in hearing people's opinion on this.

[multy-d00dles]

Sex hc for twst but like, less about sex itself and more about interpersonal/ how I see the cast relationship with sex. im proship/profiction and very into sex education, so respect your own dni.

Trein definitely thinks sex is a private matter, not sex negative per sé, but definitely more of a “I don’t care what you do in bed” type of guy.

Divus slept around, probably in his teen or young adult days, willing to brag about it around friends if two shots of vodka are added to the mix. Preaches sex-ed and consent.

the only thing Crowley is fucking is dying. But definitely masturbates

Sam is another one who slept around, with guys mostly. May or may not have a sex toys selling business.

Vargas FUCKS, he’s loud too and has gotten backlash for it

Riddle has HORRIBLE relationship with sex, like he knows it’s normal but feels ashamed of what turns him on. Cried when they showed how labor works in class

Trey empathizes more with his mom after learning how much pregnancies affect the body, probably the first top/dom alignment in Heartsaybul.

Hate to break it to y’all but Carter is into gang bangs, doesn’t care for their partner gender but is waay into his own pleasure. Knock him down a peg

Did Ace had a girlfriend? Yes, did they do it? I don’t think so, for me he only hit first base and they broke up before it happened (nothing concerning happened, they just weren’t compatible). Still feels self councious abt his performance since then

Deuce, This king is scared, but curious, but scared. The talk on STDS frightened him for life

bottom Bottom bottom!! Leona Kingscholar is 100% not putting much effort in sex, likes to be pampered and cuddle. Immediately dizzy after orgasm

Ruggie is the first guy with a dildo toy, it hurt the first times, but learned that mosturizer goes a long way.

Thank GOD Jack’s got good people in his family who don’t shame him when he can’t control his way to stress relief. He also cums a LOT and hates cleaning after.

Azul is the first guy I can see into body worship, like it doesn’t get him hard per sé, but it’s his favorite thing.

Floyd drive is fucking horrendous, can go for hours and cumming doesn’t make him stop. Which is bad bc his thing doesn’t go forever, gets very upset when he can’t continue.

Another one for the sex toy user, Jade is into some ‘risky’ things (such as orgasm control). Thinks fluffy handcuffs are impractical but fashionable

Contrary to popular belief, Kalim knows more about women's health than anyone, definitely the person you want around when ur fighting period. Also very polite during sex, consent king!

I know people like to picture Jamil as kinky but I don't, I don't see it personally. Very vanilla but likes to give his partner massages during aftercare

"Vil is a pillow princess" WRONG. He's already pampered and given the princess treatment everyday by his fans. Likes to take charge when hes in bed

Rook is 100% a vouyer, the idea of having sex doesn’t turn him on as much as it does watching others do it. The only problem he does it without people consent ♡

Epel thinks sex is a competition, probably the e most kinky out of the first years.

if you think Idia fucks I’m sorry to disappoint you, he does NOT. This guy needs a HUGE amount of preparation

Ortho knows about sex the way Wikipedia lists it, he will make his own experiences but this is all he will get for now

Malleus is a virgin, like full on “I haven’t kissed anyone yet” virgin.

I would have said the same for Lilia but, considering what we now know form chapter 7,,,

If I didn’t say that Sebek wants to be dominated I’d be doing a terrible job. Gets turned on pretty easily too, but never enough to cause him boners

Silver is a biiit struggling with sex because he keeps falling asleep during the middle of it. May have some rape/cnc fantasies that he’s not too proud of.