#implode my brain. positively

[inobservableuniverse]

obligatory mephone (& 3gs but he’s not drawn here) stays with two after ii18 au

i like to think mephone ends up in the kitchen cuz he wants to bake more but from 4 and x’s pov it’s just like “stop sending people into our kitchen-“

[ereh-emanresu-tresni]

If I switch degrees should I do carpentry or music production hm

[luvwestwood]

❝ SAVE A COW, MILK THE ...!? ❞ - Choso Kamo

— (18+) .. SEEMS LIKE THE LOCAL MILKMAN HAS A DIFFERENT TYPE OF MILK IN STORE FOR YOU.

ᯓ★ warnings. (18+), milkman! choso, msub to mdom, overstimulation, titty jobs, p in v, resolved sexual tension, oral (m rec), squirting, slow burn, praising, slight? creampie, suggestive language and actions

ᯓ★ notes. I made choso soo whiny in this I fear.. please beware, there is a LOT of irony in this LMAOO.. plus I need him real bad I think u can tell, anyways hope u all enjoy, this was my 1.4k gift <3

4,862 words (17m read)

please check out and support the actual artists piece on twt!/ig, - @/iamdebruh! + art (center of heading) is by @/yunonoai on twt.

Eggs, sugar, heavy cream, flour, vanilla extract and.. and..?

You analyse the countertop carefully, eyes flickering over each ingredient you had pulled out of the grocery bags less than a minute ago.

"Let's try this again.." Sticking a finger out, you point at the produce one by one, performing a routine of a silly head-count. "Okay- eggs, sugar, heavy cream, flour, vanilla extract and…" Your index finger lands on an empty space that was yet to be filled, and finally, it registers into that brain of yours.

"Oh, how could I possibly forget the milk?!" You cry out in pure distraught, scanning the other countertops in hopes of accidentally misplacing it somewhere instead. Pretty useless though, as no sudden miracle was to be found anywhere.

Groaning, you bury your face into the palm of your hands— mentally cursing at yourself for forgetting one of the vital ingredients for the cream pie, how could you?

Hissing as you pace around the kitchen, you open the fridge with brutal force, head close enough to imploding as you rummage inside for a drop of milk to be found.

"There's no way I'm making a second trip. Not with these gas prices." You whisper to yourself, drawing your head back from being stuck deep inside the fridge, using the curve of your ass shut the doors.

Nibbling on your fingernails, you take one more glance at the ingredients on the counter; contemplating whether you should head back, give up fully and try another day, or….

ding dong!

Hand on hip, your head darts to one side, towards the sound of the doorbell. Who could it be?

Dragging your feet to the front door, you reach over by your side to the console table; digging your hands into the glass bowl for your keys.

Another knock sounds from the door, a deep voice speaking from behind it. “..Delivery!”

As you fiddled with the lock, you glanced over to the clock on the wall; reading exactly half past four in the afternoon. You weren't expecting anyone, really. You usually kept to yourself on Fridays, just to relax from a week’s worth of busy work.

Taking a swift look into the peephole, you could only see the glass covered with white— it seems that whoever is outside is clearly blocking the view.

The door opens widely, revealing a familiar figure you tend to see a few times each week— the milkman. You take note of the few beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, unable to be hidden by his cap. Did he.. run here?

Dark brown hair, tickling the top of his shoulders; cap embellished with "Milkman" just before the brim. Covered in white, bar his black pants. You recall that he goes by the name Choso, a piece of valuable information you managed to pull out of him during an interaction only a few weeks ago.

You must admit, your milkman was quite decent looking for someone with a position like his, and the cute bow tie encircled around his neck depicted him to look sweet and dandy. Wait, there's no way I'm swooning over my local milkman right now.

"Oh, Choso- How could I forget?!" You chirp, seems as if he came at the most ideal time you could possibly think of. "What a coincidence, just in time for my cream pie!"

His biceps scream against the fabric of his short-sleeves, begging to be let out as he tightens his grip around the neck of the glass bottle. "I-in time for your what?" Ears painted with a tinge of red, he looks shocked, more on the flustered side.

Letting out an anxious giggle, you point back behind you with the use of your thumb. "Sorry- I meant I was just about to bake a cream pie right now, and I realised I forgot the milk." Looking over your shoulder, then back at him, he smiles back; clearly flustered over the misunderstanding.

"R-right, I apologise, it's been a really long day.." He hands over the bottle, slightly crouching down to pick up his carrier that rested at his feet. "You're actually my last delivery today, they let me off early cause of the work I've done this week."

Holding the door open with your foot, you carefully place the jug on the same console table behind you, smiling to yourself as he went on a tangent about all the things he had accomplished this week— as if he was expressing genuine content rather than boasting.

"Well someone has been a good boy this week, huh?" You innocently beam at him, Choso's knuckles growing white as he clenched the carriers handle. He seems appreciative of the comment, but looks as if he wasn't used to receiving any.

"..Yeah.." Diverting his gaze away from you, he decides to stare down at the top of his shoes, until something you say has his eyes darting back up at you in a split second. The air so thick with tension, the two of you suddenly stay silent.

Humming before you speak your words, you ponder and wonder if your offer was a bit out of line. "..Would you like to come in for a bit? I could really use some help in the kitchen," Not hearing an immediate response from him, you add on, "You could have some of my cream pie afterwards. It would be a workout going down all those steps again, I assume!"

Choso reaches a free hand behind his head, scratching at his nape in contemplation. He knew that you were referring to the endless flights of stairs that were nothing but a nuisance to him as he tried to get to your apartment.

The fact that you had been the only customer in this entire apartment block, didn't have any effect on him though— as it was you he was looking forward to see each time he's out on the job.

Each time he dropped the same jug of milk at yours, only meant that his low lying interest in you would continuously grow, to the point that he couldn't think of anything else, but you. The man was whipped.

He wanted to get to know you better, but couldn't muster up the courage. He felt as if there never an appropriate time to do so, and the fact he landed a job as milkman, the guy assumed that you thought of him very little.

“I.. don’t know if I should..” He mumbles, anxiety and hesitation written all over his face— so easily read.

You roll your eyes, now leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, Choso slightly taking a step back to refrain from crossing a certain line with you so up close. “Come on, it’s not like I’ll get back to your boss with this!”

Crashing at yours for a bit meant that he'd finally have the opportunity to spend some time with you. Little steps, am I right? He couldn't miss out on something like this. Only a fool would do so.

"..I-I'd love to help you with your cream pie." He blurts out, lips parted due to solely being mesmerised. The two of you gawk at each other for longer than intended, but it doesn’t allow things to turn awkward. Was it the choice of words? The tone? What was it, really?

You blankly stare at him for a second longer than he did, nodding in approval. You had very little hope in him actually saying yes. "..Alright, come in." Beckoning at Choso, you step aside, noticing how he hesitates for a moment, just before he enters at his own will.

You watch as he walks further into the apartment, stopping considerably at a point just to not go out of bounds.

Your own eyes trail down his back, surprisingly so broad, that was now facing you. Having to peel your gaze away, you safely lock the door, dropping the key back into the dish beside you.

Grabbing at the jug, you make your way past Choso; taking yet another glance behind your shoulder for reassurance, just to see him trailing behind you like an obedient puppy.

"Make yourself feel at home, don't be shy!" You remarked, stepping around the kitchen island as you gathered the ingredients back onto the counters; Choso stopping just by the stools in front of you. He seemed all quiet and timid, even doing a double take before he decides to place his carrier on a stool beside him.

He sets aside his cap, politely tucking it away into his carrier before calling for you from across the island. “So.. Is there anything I could help with..?” Extremely eager to assist you in your endeavours, he found it so absurd that he was literally with you, right now, in your own apartment.

“I’m okay for now, just relax for the time being.” Your tone reassuring, you continue your current task as soon as you flash him another smile.

Swiftly putting some ingredients into a bowl, you still occasionally glance up at Choso— the second time round, you didn't even notice that he was already situated beside you, his hands gripping at the edge of the counters as he watched your every move.

"..Hmm, you ever made a cream pie, Choso?" You blurt out, carefully sieving the flour into yet another bowl. You must admit, your words intentionally had a different meaning to them. It was funny, and you knew he would flip out; his burning gaze at the side of your head being unavoidable.

His cheeks flash hot, words stumbling after one another. "I uh, haven't, no.." His voice growing small, you were right in thinking that he thought of a different kind.

Choso mentally argued with himself for doing so, as now wouldn't be the best time to feel his cock strain against his pants. He had to immediately swat the thoughts away, as they were already tight enough. "..Have you?"

His sudden reply had your sieving come to a halt as you slowly looked up to him next and you; just to see that he was still doing the same. Staring into his eyes, you try to think of an answer, swallowing the lump in your throat in the midst of it all.

"..No, I haven't." Your words come out in a whisper, noticing how his eyes alternate between yours and your parted lips. "I've never made one.. It's my first time today." Blinking slowly, you grow timid, your eyes making its way back to the bowl.

Resting your two hands flat down on the counter, Choso's breath hitches— his finger reaching down towards your chin. Guiding you to properly look up, he slightly crouches down to close the space between you two, and in a split second, your lips latch onto each other.

Eyes squeezing shut, you melt into the kiss, wrapping both arms around his neck to bring him closer; Choso letting out a subtle grunt as he hesitates about where to place his hands.

"I.. wanna touch you,” Resting his forehead against yours, his voice trembles, finishing with a helpless crack. Choso was practically begging you, and something about that just had you over the edge. "You don't know how much I've been wanting this.. I need you.. please..”

And he wasn’t lying. He wondered how your soft skin felt to his touch. He always wondered whether he would ever be able to have the chance to make you feel good.

Breathing heavily against his lips, you just nod hysterically, and in less than a second he slithers both hands under your ass, hoisting you into his embrace as he gently places you on the counter beside.

Your lips crash onto each others once again, Choso feeling up and down your body, his demeanor showing how much he's been wanting this for ages. He couldn't even believe it himself. You? Allowing him to have you? Is he dreaming?

A mewl escapes your lips as he cups your face into his hands, his ticklish kisses eventually moving down to your neck, the way he touches you seem so tender, and genuine, Choso didn't want to rush anything. He wanted to savour you.

He anchors himself between your legs— chest heaving so intensely from pure excitement. Meanwhile, you strip your top off, Choso swallowing a lump as he processes the fact that you had nothing else underneath this whole time.

He wastes no time, eagerly latching his mouth onto a breast, groaning as he firmly shuts his eyes, tongue relentlessly swirling around your nipple. His free hand fondles with the other as you comb your fingers through his hair, caressing it gently to let him know he's doing a good job.

You let out a string of breathy moans, a pop sounding from his mouth as he lets go. Pausing for a moment, you try stabilise your breathing, confusion written on his face.

"The sofa," You pant, Choso doing more so the same; his brows furrowed in despair as he yearns for more of you. "Let's move to the sofa.."

And he nods, beckoning you to wrap your legs around his torso once again, your arms being used as support to cling to him. You rest your head against his chest for a split second, allowing you to hear the ecstatic pace at which his heart was going at.

His feet stops just before the sofa, giving you the opportunity to drop back down, in which you suddenly grab his hand and pull him along. Choso seems perplexed, until you gently push him down onto the sofa by the chest, and he could do nothing but stare at you in pure adoration.

"Just relax yourself, okay?" Your voice soft, you kneel after he nods obediently, more than happy to agree with whatever you say.

You don’t dare look away, fingers toying at his belt buckle; which soon enough you end up undoing. Choso was about to lose his mind, and it took a lot in him to not leak right here, right now.

Tugging on the waistline of his pants, the man shifts his hips around to allow for more leeway. His mouth remains open as quiet, irregular huffs slip out, so eager to experience the very next thing you'll be doing.

Stopping as soon as his pants met his ankles, you smile, noticing the wet spot that had formed on his boxers— your hand gently rubbing up and down his protruding bulge. A whimper chokes out of him as he shuffles around a bit more, causing him to bite down on his bottom lip to suppress any more moans. He was too afraid to admit that anything you do has him melting.

All he could do was look down at you between his legs in bliss. Choso just couldn't believe it, and this was definitely not how he expected to end his evening.

His boxers follow after his pants, feeling him shudder under your touch as he comes into contact with the cold air. You shift around upon seeing his throbbing, leaking tip; not letting anymore time pass as you wrap your mouth over it, your satisfied humming sending vibrations to and through him.

Looking up to observe a reaction, Choso only slaps a hand over his mouth, groaning into it as his face returns to the same, crimson red; his other hand shaking as he tries to rest it on the back of your head.

Your head bobs up and down, cheeks hollowing and a free hand kneading at his balls for extra stimulation— Choso endlessly whimpering into his palm as his head falls back into the cushions, eyes eventually closing as he floated around in a pool of pleasure.

Buckets of spit trickled down your chin as you continued sucking him off, Choso squirming in the seat from time to time, his legs unable to stay still. You decide to take another peek, looking at him one more time, and thought to yourself; he seemed cute with the bowtie still on, his actions causing a flutter in your abdomen.

"Mmh," Muffled, as he was too busy suppressing a loud moan, he gives up, hand leaving his mouth to grab onto the sofa behind him. His other free behind your head tightens its grip, Choso suddenly fucking his hips up from the sofa, his teeth gritting as helpless grunts try to slip out. "Cu.. I'm gonna.. Uh.."

Your two hands suddenly place flat onto his thighs as he fucks into your throat, Choso's array of whines intensifying as he feels his balls contracting constantly, his face so warm to the touch.

So helpless, his two hands sets its place into your scalp, Choso bottoming his cock into your throat as he lets out a lengthy moan as a familiar feeling he had never felt washes through his body.

Tears welling up in your eyes, you mentally note to yourself to continue breathing through your nose, Choso’s prolonged groan causing a pool between your legs. You feel a rope of warm fluid shoot down your pipes, your hands repeatedly slapping at his thighs for a sliver of air.

His head hauling back down, he didn’t look the same as he did a few minutes ago— Choso’s eyes low and dark as he pulls you off his cock, a questionable grunt coming from him as he takes note of your fucked up face.

He tried his best not to laugh as you shot him a deathly glare, and of course failed. His smile fades, turning into horror as he watches you slide his cock in the midst of your cleavage, lip quivering as you drop an orb of your own spit on his tip that was slightly peeking out.

Choso’s hands grip at a cushion nearby on the sofa as you began to clamp your breasts together around his cock, moving them both up and down— throaty whimpers instantly emitting from him as you reinforced the stimulation on his still sensitive girth.

“Nghh—,” He cries out, mouth left gaped as he felt yet another foreign knot forming in his stomach; somehow identical to what he felt before orgasm, but just stronger.

“It’s too.. too much,” His words come out in a whisper, Choso’s let’s stamping the sides of your arms as you were anchored between them— his whiny voice trembling as he felt yet another impending orgasm that was about to hit him even harder.

A devilish smile plasters onto your face as you occasionally stuck a tongue out to chafe over his throbbing tip, Choso only able to let out deep grunts this entire as he occasionally looked down at you in a state of euphoria.

“Agai-n, I’m.. cum..” Incapable of finishing a sentence, his tit engulfed cock twitches, much thicker ropes of white shooting up into the air, dropping back down into your chest as it splatters droplets everywhere.

Choso’s head feels heavy at this point, his eyes lazily scanning his surroundings as he spots you decorated with the white drops that somehow managed to make its way to your face too.

Getting back to his senses, he attempts to sit up, legs still weak but with enough strength, his first instinct was to tend to you; the same hands clawed in your scalp making its way back to your cheeks as he kissed you so lovingly, his teeth nipping at those lips that were wrapped around his cock a few minutes ago.

Him being the first to pull always, it seems Choso has a request of his own. “..Get on the sofa,” he instructs, no sign of a stutter left to be heard within his words.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you beam a sinister smile as your aching knees rise off the ground— followed by you throwing yourself onto the sofa beside him.

You watch as he slightly jerks his cock, his eyes watching you take your turn obey orders. Raising your hips slightly to make things easier, you stripped the last of your garments; kicking away your underwear to the other side of the room.

Choso mirrors your actions, kicking off his shoes and trousers as he follows with his knee settling between your legs. You look up and survey his every move as his fingers yank at his bow tie, loosening it overall— his hands still trembling as he attempts to undo all buttons of his shirt.

You giggle, reaching down playfully toying with yourself as you place a foot on his bicep, shamelessly exposing your pussy even more to him as he peered down at you in utter silence.

Finally stripping away his shirt, the bow tie keeps its place and hangs around his neck— your impatient self subtly grinding against his thigh— your slick evidently leaving a mark on his skin.

“Just fuck me, Choso..” You whisper, sticking a finger into your leaking hole that has been that way ever since you made out with each other. Your words examined his ability to maintain his composure, Choso felt that it was time you did the things he wanted you to do.

His breathing hitches, Choso sucking in a breath as he leans in closer, as he guides the tip of his cock to align with your hole. An unoccupied hand grabs your legs, hoisting both on each of his shoulders.

Folding you into a mean mating press, your arms encircle his back, your moans tickling the shell of his ears as he slid himself in— throaty grunts also sounding from him.

Choso begins to move his hips slowly, your mouth gasping at his girthy cock stretching you out completely— his face buried into the crook of your neck as his hot breath fanned against your skin.

“Faster.. faster Choso..” You plead, his hips immediately snapping into you at a faster pace, his lowly grunts returning to the familiar whimpers as your gummy walls wrapped around his entire length. Feeling him in your gut, you chant his name like a prayer, Choso doing his best to fuck you in all the right spots.

A loud moan slips past your lips, your manicured nails scratching at his chiselled back like a kitty and it’s scratch post. As he fucked you into the sofa, something similar to a growl was heard from him as you dragged your nails down his entire back; surely leaving an evident trace of you behind.

Seemingly not enough for him, he uses his knuckles by your sides to prop himself up- Choso grabbing your ankles into the grasp of one hand and pushing them down further and infront of him this time.

On the verge of losing his mind, Choso’s hips brutally fuck into you, his cock deeper than ever— a white, creamy ring forming at his shaft.

His heart races at the sight of his thick cock disappearing in and out of you down below, Choso almost hypnotised at the sights as if he were eyeing a pendulum. His hand lets go of your ankles, grabbing for the edge of the sofa above your head— cock drilling you mercilessly into the cushions.

You mewl and whine, utilising maximum strength to keep your eyes open and hold a good view of Choso, his free thumb reaching down to swipe a stripe on your cheek as he coos a few praises at you.

The position you were in as of now had been churning both of your minds, Choso admittedly finding it difficult to continue fucking into you as he was about to cum at any given moment.

“Fuck,” he sucks in a breath through clenched teeth, eyes looking into yours as he studied your facial expressions, “So pretty,” Your cheek eventually fits into his palm as he fluctuates the pace at which he was fucking into you— nothing but satisfaction and adoration to be seen in his eyes.

His hips rut into your hole slow and deep, your hands grabbing at his wrists as you felt him bullying your cervix— cock endlessly rubbing between your walls, tip seldomly hitting against your sweet spots.

The legs of the sofa creak against the floor boards, eventually beginning to scoot itself to another side of the room. You couldn’t care less about consequences you might face with the downstairs neighbours tomorrow.

Strands of his hair stick to his forehead and temples, your fingers hooking around the strap of his necktie to pull in him closer, your lips yearning to have his on yours.

Your walls uncontrollably clench around his length, Choso’s head falling back in bliss; his mouth emitting short, overwhelmed breaths for a few seconds.

Your tits press against his chiselled chest as he fucks you silly, almost as if it was payback for treating him like he was clueless. Did you really think he’d let you boss him around?

Choso’s leans down once again, mouth sucking and leaving marks all over your breasts as he feels himself coming to one of his many orgasms today— buckets of sweat glistening over his physique like a glossy finish.

You grab at his bicep, slapping it repeatedly to give him notice of your impending orgasm— Choso planting a wet kiss on your lips to quickly swallow the ‘O’ your mouth had formed.

He instantly slides his cock out of your hole, taking his length into his fist as he pumps himself slow. His fingers fan over your clit as he ushered you to orgasm and make a mess, so desperate to have you cum all over him. Alternating between sticking his middle and ring finger inside, Choso curls his digits up as he jerks his fingers inside of you.

Your head peers down to see his forearms flexing with his every move, your eyes rolling to the back of your head; squelching noises coming from your pussy.

“Don’t…don’t do that-“ Your brows furrow, lips returning to its O shape as you attempted to hold his wrist as he continued to curl his fingers into you. He knew what he was doing. Choso wanted to make you squirt.

His pleas fucking your mind to an extent, it felt like a mixture of bliss and torture— your eyes struggling at this point to remain open.

“..Come on,” He urges, so needy as he strokes his cock as in-front of you as he watches how you unravel underneath him; Choso slapping his heavy length on your inner thigh whenever he has the chance. “Come on pretty, let go—“

“O-oh, Choso—“ You squeal, fingers reaching and scraping at his pelvis as he got back at you for fucking him up to overstimulation. Your nipples sore and perky, he had to resist the urge to suck on them again.

He spits out his words closely together, pressing his forehead against yours for the second time as you peered your eyes up into his.

“Come on, come on- that’s it,” Choso cooing at you as you released your juices all over his fingers, a sob could be heard from you as a hot flush rushes through your body.

His hand absolutely soaked as he pulls out, Choso nonchalantly wraps his mouth around his fingers, sucking on your slick— his saliva mixing in with the shining fluid that covered his hands.

Pulling you closer to his pelvis by hooking his two hands around your thighs, Choso slips himself back into your hole— your inner thighs soaking with juices.

A mutter of curses under his breath, Choso absolutely loved your warm walls taking his cock whole, his girthy length moving with ease due to the present slick.

Choso was on the verge of losing his mind once again as he realised that he literally got you to squirt less than a few seconds ago, his cock desperately throbbing all over again.

His cock fucks in and out of you, this time cautiously slow as he made sure not to cum inside of you— your clenching walls making it a difficult task for him.

Too sensitive, Choso pulls his cock out with haste, slapping his tip against your clit as he released his own load just outside of your pussy. His entire face flooded with rouge, cock profusely leaking; his grunts in synchronisation with his throbbing balls.

With the use of his tip, Choso pushes the load back into your hole, his cock completely stilling inside for the time being.

Your mind in a daze, you let out a sigh, Choso’s hand caressing up and down the side of your legs as he remained anchored between them.

“We literally just fucked off with the baking. Went and did a whole other cream pie…” You scoff, hanging your head off the sofa, an upside down view of your kitchen filling your vision— everything still left exactly how it was on the countertop.

Silently laughing, Choso takes your leg into his grasp, his head turning to the side as he plant a kiss on your calves. Bringing a hand down to your hole, he stuffs a digit or two in, scooping a few beads of his cum allowing it to coat his fingertips before moving his hand closer to your lips.

“..Milk delivery,” Choso chimes, mimicking his first words from outside your door earlier.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24 . all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not repost on a third party platform.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts! it means the world to me. ily all soo soo much!

[luvwestwood masterlist]

[queers-gambit]

Shadows of the Past

prompt: the High King recruits you personally for the expedition headed by your intended, Herald Elrond. your company encounters the darkness and Galadriel portrays an apology to her friend.

pairing: Elrond x betrothed!female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 5.1k+

note: wonky brain can think of nothing but this show right now i'm so sorry

warnings: cursing, spoilers, another reader insert for the haters, depiction of character injury, emotions are hard, small canon complicit angst, literal hurt and comfort, established relationship.

"Tell me again," your brother-in-law asked, "why you're not leading this company?"

You smirked, stepping over a fallen branch, "Because the High King has bestowed the honor to Herald Elrond, Daenor."

"Then why enlist you, too?"

"I am a mere emissary of the King. Besides, skills are required for this quest, Daenor, why would I not be employed?"

"Right, of course. I guess my question should be, what skills do you possess?" He teased, laughing when you shoved his shoulder playfully. "But truly," he asked, "why would the King send you both, so close to your wedding day? Why send you, too, if not to lead this company?" However, before you could answer, the air turned serious when the procession you followed came to a rather disturbing discovery upon the laid path.

You leaned on the intact stone while listening to Camnir discuss with Elrond possible paths forward after intending to cross a bridge over the gorge, only to find it in ruins and rubble. Elrond originally questioned the force that could've brought the ancient stone down in such a harsh and violent manner, thinking perhaps lightning, but another voice refuted this idea by claiming it was the Dark Lord, Sauron.

This familiar voice was that of Lady Galadriel - and while you've known her to be a fellow Commander, you were unsure of her title now. Yes, she was technically lieutenant of this company, and that was what she was addressed as, but you knew how stubborn the Elleth was and that she would not be so easily demoted.

You said nothing. You just listened as Camnir told Elrond they could take one of two paths: one so out of the way, it would add two weeks to their journey, and the other, down the same darkened path the Dark Lord laid.

Upon mentioning the path before them through the Hills of Tyrn Gorthad, Lady Galadriel twitched. She had been daintily ghosting her fingertips over the charred and mangled metal of the lanterns set on the imploded bridge, seemingly stuck in thought, then freezing. You couldn't see her face, only taking note of the brisk tension mounting in the Elleth's shoulders.

She spoke, "There is evil in those hills." The group shared silent looks, each with varying degrees of mistrust or caution. "Ancient, and full with malice," Galadriel glared at the landscape before her. "Sauron means for us to go that way. We must go another," She informed the group as if she were in a position to give orders.

From the crouch he took to observe the damage done to the stone, Elrond rose while speaking in a firm tone that overpowered the Lady's, "The Enemy is doubtless watching both roads." His eyes flickered over yours last as jetting over each of his soldiers, clocking the way you nodded in agreement. To you, it seemed common sense: of course, the bad guy was watching the paths that would lead the good guys to him! He was evil, not stupid! Elrond reminded his people, "This collapse makes it more critical than ever to reach Celebrimbor at speed."

"We won't reach anywhere with speed if we walk into a trap," Galadriel argued; the two friends (and distant cousins) held each other's even stare for several moments.

"What say you, Commander?" You asked, hoping to break the tension and little trance they were locked in. No, no, not out of jealousy, but out of protectiveness; wanting to break the ice for the sake of Elrond's authority.

"We go South," Elrond decided, turning from the fragmented bridge stump, ready to lead his company on, when Galadriel spoke again - from the same spot she had yet to move from.

"Commander, I must protest."

You did not move when the others did, you waited when Elrond paused and replied, "Your opinion on the matter has been heard."

He went to walk away again when Galadriel growled with a rolling tongue, "Elrond!"

You flinched to a halt in blinding irritation, upset by your peer's very audacity. Everyone halted around you, Camnir even shifting in his stance out of nervousness from the heat of your glare not on him. Your fiancé turned back to glare at his friend, ending with finality, "Opinion heard, lieutenant. We go South." He gave an encouraging command in Sindarin, leading only a few strides before pausing. When you automatically halted yourself at his side, he nodded and spoke softly while seemingly mindlessly grabbing your hand to give an affectionate and reassuring squeeze, "Lead them on, love, stay on the trail."

You glanced back at Galadriel, who was finally moving to keep up, and whispered for only his ears, "You sure?"

"I'm sure, go on," he confirmed, nodding again and offering a soft sort of half-smirk. His eyes, though, were squinted; indicating he was genuine in his displayed gentleness. With a squeeze to his hand, you offered one last stale look at Galadriel, who expertly avoided your eyes, then let go and walked forward to lead the way.

Behind you, Elrond snarled his scolding of Galadriel, insisting she shape up, forgo trust in the Ring of Power she wore, and if that wasn't possible, she needed to excuse herself. The Commander of the Northern Armies rebutdtaled that she did not desire to see any member of the company slain - a veiled response to her stubbornness to not abandon their quest and refusal to ignore her ring.

Forward, you marched.

Though you seldom showed it, you felt fearfully nervous when the night fell and your company crept further into what felt like infected wood. The ground turned spongey, a particular stench permeated the air, the darkness shadowed most all you saw. The trees loomed tall, the moon casted a bright silver light, and dead leaves crunched under booted, lithe steps. Elrond shared a nervous look with you, his hand only briefly brushing yours; a way to say he was there with you without being overly affectionate in front of his soldiers.

From the corner of his eye, Elrond saw your head tilt back in wonder before a fell voice hissed on the wind, "I am waiting for you." But in truth, nobody was sure about what they heard or did not hear. Perhaps they did not want to know, but still, the voice made the area further darken in suspicion, and once in a small clearing, all came to a halt to survey the surrounding area. There was a threat somewhere, but where exactly was yet to be determined.

Daenor questioned sharply, "What is this place?"

"Tyrn Gorthad," Camnir answered. "Known to men as the Barrow-downs."

You chimed in softly, "In ancient days, this was where they laid their lords and kings to rest."

"I feel no rest here," Daenor grumbled. "Even the trees seem ill at ease."

"Fear not," Vorohil chimed in, sounding amused while stepping up to (and through) your group's observation deck. "Dead men are no threat."

"Well, we've lived very different lives," you scoffed under your breath.

However, after Vorohil, Elrond followed; casting a look at the lot of you and reminding, "Keep moving."

You let the others pass ahead of you, trying to shake off your nerves and mentally prepare yourself for the hell you were walking into. Something anchored your feet, refusing to let go; every nerve in your body on fire and begging you not to wade into the dark. Your name was spoken gently, Galadriel's hand on your shoulder startling you.

"What is it?" She asked quietly.

"We shouldn't be here," you whispered, Elrond doubling back when he noted your delay. Not wanting a confrontation, Galadriel sighed and patted your shoulder before slipping away as your lover approached you.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly but urgently.

"There's something sinister here," you told him stiffly, stepping half a step closer, "watching us."

He took a breath, "If Galadriel's ring - "

"It's not that!" You insisted. "I feel it, Elrond, not the ring, not anything Galadriel said. I feel it."

Elrond's brows furrowed at the tips, like something hooked them to yank towards his nose. "Then stay close to me," he decided.

"We should move on, quickly," you snatched his hand to prevent him from parting; his gaze turning worried. "Please, listen to me."

"My love," he spoke softly, squeezing your hand, "it is a gravesite, nothing more. The dead cannot harm us."

"It is the living's influence I fear."

He sighed and nodded, "We will not linger." His forehead found yours to rest, "But do not stray from my side, it is of great comfort."

"To us both," you agreed, letting him pull back. Yet he did not relinquish hold of your hand, keeping it tight in his and leading you into the clearing the others were surveying.

"Commanders," Rían called, standing over the corpses of two horses... Attacked seemingly a time ago, and upon inspection, discovered the pairing bodily remains of an Elvish party.

Elrond questioned your name when you squatted, brushing aside debris. "Their barding is from Lindon," you told him, gently ghosting the leather with your touch. You looked up to meet his eyes, glancing over to see Galadriel, predicting, "The King sent a dispatch to warn Celebrimbor."

Galadriel nodded in confirmation as Rían discovered the encased message from the King in a decorative tube, asking, "This dispatch?"

Slowly, you stood from your position and held a silent hand out, being given the tube for inspection; all eyes on you, waiting for whatever your overly keen (even for an Elf) eyes would see. After confirming the contents, your eyes locked with Galadriel's, and she spoke what you both were thinking: "We must go from this place."

Elrond appeared ready to agree, tension mounting as your company seemingly felt the blanket of panic being thrown over them all. From the dark, a set of rotting chains shot out to coil around Daemor, yanking him into the toxic, spongey earth and across the clearing.

"Y/N!" He shouted in shock, and without thinking, your hands slapped into his as if in an effort to anchor him... But you were both yanked off your feet. "Commander!"

"Daenor! NO!"

"Help me! Y/N, Y/N, please!"

"Hold onto me!" You begged, being drug on your belly.

"Sister! Sister, please, help me! Help me!" He sobbed in fear, a vice grip on your wrists and hands surely to leave blemishes. "Don't let go! Pl-eeeeeaaaaaase!"

"Daenor!" You whimpered, struggling as the force that held you both hostage was too strong to maintain a safe, secure hold permanently - meaning, saving him was futile.

Your name was bellowed, being drug towards one of the opened tombs; but at the last moment, the tether that kept you and Daenor together was broken and he was pulled into the abyss of the grave. You whimpered in fear, slowly lifting from your belly and to your knees as Daenor's screams were silenced... In fact, the entire area turned eerily quiet.

Behind you, the others rushed to the scene and Elrond immediately dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around you. "Are you hurt? Hey, hey, look at me, are you hurt?" He demanded, fearful that the chains might shoot out again to finish the job to swallow you in the dark. He checked for any physical injury, but the tension was too great to ignore; the mouth of the tomb glaring at you, forcing Elrond to silence himself.

You flinched back into his hold when the gruesome sounds of crunching bone and squelching flesh was heard; indicating whatever was inside, whatever claimed Daenor, had disposed of his living body.

Elrond took advantage of your flinch to rock you back onto your feet, standing as a group as a voice hissed, "Cold old be hand and heart and bone, And cold be sleep under stone, Never more to wake on stony bed, Never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead." Galadriel brandished her sword as the wights first emerged, revealing their zombified forms. You encouraged the group to form together in a circle as the demons emerged. The Voice continued, "In the black wind, the stars shall die."

"Prepare yourselves," Galadriel warned, the group arming themselves.

"What are they?" Rían trembled.

From perfectly between Galadriel and Elrond, you answered, "They are those who laid in the tombs, the Lords and Kings of old... Lore calls them Barrow-wights."

The creatures surrounded your company, leering, growling, sizing you up. In Sindarin, Elrond commanded, "Attack!"

In tandem, the group lunged; weapons striking the ghoulish foes but they merely disintegrated in air... Then reformed. It seemed that fighting only served to irritate the enemies, their collective hissing and screeching making stomachs curl and skin to prickle in fear. Galadriel clocked this first, warning Rían, "Still your arrow!"

But the Elleth was already locked and loaded, the string slipping from her grip to fire at a distant wight. But it only soared through the zombie's face, not stopping, directing towards Camnir - but Elrond intercepted, swiping his sword to cut its path and save his soldier. The creature rejuvenated.

"They're impervious to our weapons," Camnir voiced, fear inking his tone.

Elrond's eyes found yours, seemingly connected by a string of similar thought; remembering the old wives tales you once read a lifetime ago, ancient lore about Barrow-wights dating back to the time of Melkor. So, he sheathed his sword and told his soldiers, "Hold fast." To Camnir, the closest to him, he demanded, "Come with me!"

"Where are you going?"

"Help me open it," Elrond told him, trying to pry open the sealed tomb as you swiped at another wight's skeletal hand reaching for you.

"What?"

"Hurry!" Elrond barked in Sandarin.

Back in your group, Rían muttered nervously, "Commander?"

"Ease yourself, remain calm..."

"What do we do?"

"Make no sudden movements. Stay together, fend them off but don't engage a fight," you advised, "hold strong - "

A gasp cut off your words when chains coiled around your ankle; securing in a tight zip that knocked you off balance and back into the toxic dirt. You scrambled for purchase on anything, finding only wet leaves; and suddenly, the chain turned taunt with tension before you were being sucked back into another tomb.

"Commander!" Vorohil shouted, trying to reach for you, but just missing as you were reeled back over the dirt.

"Y/N!" Rían cried, alerting Elrond and Camnir of your situation. You whimpered in fear, sobbing as you couldn't fight the force; couldn't save yourself; only able to helplessly submit to your approaching doom after clawing unsuccessfully for salvation.

"No! No!" You yelped, trying to remove the chains, but another tightened around the first chain in a horribly tight, vice grip that strangled breath from your lungs from the pure burning sting. With the last of your air, you screamed, "Elrond! Please!"

You heard Vorohil sprinting after you, freezing in your escape attempt when a grisly, decayed hand extended from the ebony shadow of the tomb towards you. There was a panicked finality to your blood, fear clogging rational thought; never seeing Elrond, only focused on the threat pulling you in. But the half-Elf you meant to marry in only a few weeks time came surging onto the scene, sliding on his knees at the mouth of the tomb and swinging a sword to sever both hand and chains.

"Y/N - "

"Fuck's sake!" You snarled, unintentionally cutting Elrond off; shoving the chains from your leg, scrambling to your feet.

You were just about to thank Elrond when he instead encouraged, "Here, take this." He held out one of the ancient weapons excavated from the tomb, nodding with increased vigor before turning away when it was in your grip. You hacked and stabbed the wight that came after you, Elrond and Camnir tossing the rest of the company weapons to cast down the surrounding enemies.

"How?" Rían asked in shock, seeing the wisps of the last wights waft into the wind.

"According to lore, only the blades with which they were buried with will return such creatures to rest," Elrond explained.

"But the men buried here have been entombed for over a thousand years," Camnir trembled, turning to his companion.

Vorohil seethed, "I think it is safe to say that something has awoken them."

"No," Galadriel argued, glaring down at the wight's decaying body. "Someone... Awakening evil. Across all Middle-earth."

You ignored the conversation and slowly took a seat; leaving your weapon in the dirt while focusing on hiking up your trouser leg after discarding your boot. With a clenched jaw, you revealed the wight's chains left sizzling lacerations; the metal seemingly enchanted to burn damn near to the bone, creating craters, indentations, dimples to your otherwise pure and unblemished flesh.

You winced when fabric stuck to the wound, bearing your teeth while hissing through them; breathing turning staggered as the pain became biting. "Commander?" You heard Camnir question softly with concern, others turning to set their attention on you.

"It's nothing," you insisted, observing the wound and deciding a tourniquet was required.

"You're hurt," Elrond growled, surging forward and unintentionally knocking Galadriel's shoulder - but the Elleth didn't take offense. The others wanted to close in around you, but Galadriel held them back after witnessing you before. As Commander of the Southern Armies, you had seen many battles with Galadriel, and sometimes, you sustained injury; she's witnessed how you turned akin to a panicked animal when accosted with attention - no matter how genuine the concern.

"It's nothing," you repeated, reaching for one of your belts, "I'm fine."

"You're not - "

"It's a burn, Elrond, nothing more," you sniffled, feeling how far up the chain had gone; deciding to tie the tourniquet above your knee.

"Let me," Elrond whispered, laying his hands over yours that shook and trembled without abandon.

"Elrond - "

"Just," he snipped, needing to pause and take a breath, "please, let me help you."

Behind him, Galadriel ushered the others away to a short distance; deciding to gather whatever belongings of Daenor they could to honor his lost life. You met Elrond's worried gaze and nodded, sniffling, "Okay. J-Just above the knee, here," you showed him.

"I know, love, I've got yah," he breathed, shuffling closer and kneeling beside you while taking the belt. You pulled the material of your trousers straight, grimacing when Elrond first wrapped the leather around your thigh. "All right?" He checked, seeing you nod rapidly; no words used because you were holding your breath to prevent yourself from crying out. When Elrond first tied the leather, you whimpered and his eyes turned teary. "It's gonna get worse, love, just hang on f'me - " He warned you before suddenly tightening the tourniquet, making you yelp painfully. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I know it hurts, I know, I know, I'm so sorry," he repeated, your hands latching onto his forearms out of subconscious need to feel him for comfort while he secured the leather belt. When done, he reached for your cheeks and pet hair that escaped your braids behind your ears, encouraging, "Breathe for me, just breathe, love. You're all right, there you go. Breathe. Good, good, I've got you, I'm so sorry, just breathe, just breathe... Oh, I, uh..."

"What's wrong?" You worried when he trailed off; eyes full of tears and his mouth half opening while retracting his hands that you held by his wrists still.

"I've blood on my hands..." He splayed them in display between you two.

"It's okay - "

"Got it on your face," he frowned.

"It's fine," you insisted, sniffling sadly, "it's my blood, anyway. We should be moving - "

"You're hurt."

"I know, but it's not life threatening, I don't need coddled."

"I'm not coddling you - "

"You are," you half smirked, "because you're worried."

"Of course, I am," he scoffed, using his sleeve to wipe your cheeks and temples free of blood. "How can I not be? You..." His voice quaked with emotion, "You are my starlight, my fairest friend, my sweetest love. Seeing you hurt..."

"I know," you whispered, bringing him close so your foreheads met, "but I'm okay."

"For now."

You sighed, pulling back to respond, "Don't say that, don't even think it. Optimism is our only friend in this situation, else, what is the point of going after Sauron?"

He needed to take a breath, sniffling his own emotion. "Fine. We should rest until morning... Regroup, give you time off this leg for now."

You nodded, "You sure?"

"I think we could all use the reprieve," he admitted.

"Does that include you?" You asked while caressing the coils of chestnut off his forehead.

"I'm fine - "

"As I am?"

Elrond paused, then scoffed a small laugh and nodded. "I'm managing..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"Hey," you whispered, bringing him back to your forehead, "you're doing an excellent job of leading this company. But we all have limits and tonight was a lot, you deserve the time to breathe."

"Time is something we don't have."

"We have enough for now," you insisted, more or less forcing Elrond to relent.

As Daenor's belongings were pulled from the tomb and buried in the scorched earth his killers had rose from, the company each offered you hollowed words of condolences for your loss. Beside Elrond, it was known, you and your brother-in-law were great friends - being the reason he met and eventually married your sister. His sword was embedded in the ground as a marker, the company gathered to silently pay their respects while their commander stood at the riverbed's edge in deep, solemn contemplation.

You held one of his daggers, intending to keep it in reminder; pocketing a few pieces of jewelry, intending to give it to his wife. However, all was interrupted when from a distance, you heard the booming rumble of drums. Not just any drums, but the beating sounds of a marching procession; something ominous and daunting. You perked up, standing to your feet as something dark and familiar started in your chest before sinking to your gut. By looks of your company, they, too, heard the drums and shared your worried thoughts; sheathing Daenor's dagger to your belt and surging for where Elrond stood speaking to Galadriel.

"Forgive my intrusion," you bid the pair, Elrond turning instantly.

"Are you all right?" His hand reached for your hip instantly, trying to help stabilize you - if you had been off balance.

Your hand laid to his cheek, answering swiftly, "I'm fine," before dropping your hand to rest on his bicep, "but we've heard drums - in the deep. Sounds like there's a host on the march."

This sent the company into action, tracking the sound of the enemy over leagues of wooded area. By the end of the day, at dusk, you all gathered slowly on a darkened clifftop; watching in horror as legions of orcs marched down the beaten path to the sounds of their war drums. "Orc treachery," Rían cursed upon sight.

"That trail...?" Elrond questioned, letting go of his secure hold on you to lower in a squat, "I gather it leads to - "

"Eregion, my liege," Camnir confirmed.

"We came in search of Sauron," Vorohil narrated everyone's thought and question, "And instead, we find Adar?"

"Could they be in league with each other or... Perhaps at war," Elrond thought aloud, you shifting on your bad leg for a moment to readjust your stance among the trees.

"A legion of Orcs have marched into Elvish lands," Galadriel spat in anger, glaring at Elrond. "We are all of us at war."

Elrond agreed, "Word of this must reach the High King before our host sails for Mordor."

The silence was calm in a resolute sort of way, everyone just pausing to bask in their shock and awe. This was shattered when a distant Orc shouted, "There!" An arrow thunked into the trunk of the tree behind you, a horse neighing shrilly as it galloped through the forrest towards freedom and away from its pursuers. Just as the company turned to face the enemy, another arrow flew through the air almost inconspicuously, finding its mark in the soft part of your chest just beneath your sternum.

You grunted when the arrow landed, taking half a step back and wanting to cry out. Instead, you just held where the arrow embedded itself in your flesh. You felt dizzy suddenly, clothes and hand saturating with blood as the arrow had pierced through the aorta artery to cause major damage. Irreparable damage. Fatal damage...

In a whisper, Elrond told his soldiers in Sindarin, "Hold!"

In the distance, the Orcs were heard complaining about the horse escaping while a few random arrows were fired off again in a last ditch effort to wound the animal. If you did not move, the mangey creatures did not notice, smell, or sense you. But you couldn't form a full coherent thought, just understanding your injury, the looming grace of Death soon to kiss you, that breath was becoming increasingly harder to come by, and the pain - the pain was aching, soon spiking.

You did not mean to, but your fear was too great to ignore, and you stuttered in a whimpered gasp, "El-Elrond?"

His head snapped over, seeing the arrow protruding from your chest and feeling himself crumble inside. You were choking on blood, trying to remain silent - and they all saw that effort. How blood came splattering from your nose as you tried to subdue your noise, but that only made it harder to breathe; inadvertently choking, a groan strangled from your lungs just as Elrond reached you. He held you to him with his chest and single arm anchoring your waist, the other lifting to lay his hand over your mouth as Galadriel glued to your other side for added support.

The company moved back several yards, covering ground swiftly before laying you down behind a natural outcropping of protective rock. You were struggling, unable to fight it any longer; hacking a cough, blood spewing, splattering, streaking down your neck, the pain insurmountable. Elrond's one hand cushioned under your head, tears in his eyes as he could only hold you as the Orcs were heard closing in, other hand once more clasping over your mouth.

Still, Galadriel was sandwiching you, wincing when Elrond's hand stifled your groans of pain as he strained himself to peak over the top of the rocks. When he lowered himself, your lover leaned his forehead on your temple and hushed in your ear, "I'm so sorry." Upon lifting, he met Galadriel's eyes, who had been examining your wound, only to find her's full of sadness. Her head shook with muted words - telling him whatever she saw wasn't good.

You whimpered lightly. The Orcs could smell an Elf.

You wrangled Elrond's hand from your mouth, "Lis-Listen to me - "

"Hush, do not - "

"Shut up and listen!" You hissed, keeping hold of his hand, "'M not makin' it outta this, love, you've gotta go. L-Leave me - "

"No!"

"Elrond. Leave me," you insisted, "and they'll k-know 's m-me they smell. Y-You have t'warn the H-High King."

"I'm not leaving you," Elrond grit.

You smiled sadly, "And I love y-you for that. B-But you h-have t-t-to."

"Not in this lifetime," he begged, a few tears falling. "Just give me time to think, I'll figure something out."

"Time... Is something we don't have," you repeated his words from earlier. Suddenly, Galadriel just knew something without words; a feeling; a sort of understanding that she could help in this moment. She heard you whisper, "I'm so sorry, this wasn't supposed to happen. W-We should've had so much more time - "

"Please, don't say that," Elrond begged quietly.

Galadriel took a sobering breath and moved her hands to the base of the arrow; pressing enough to make you wince and breath in sharply. Elrond went to tell her to back off, but paused when The Ring of Power she wore twinkled in the dark night - seemingly pulling you out of that fatal twilight. Your breathing turned slow... Eyes clearing of hazy pain... Life breathing back into your flesh...

The arrow fell out, making all three of you gasp. Galadriel's hands fell away as your own shot to where your wound had been - finding it healed between the fabric the arrow tore. You looked at the Elleth in shock, breathing, "You healed me...?"

She just nodded, Vorohil speaking in astonished Sindarin, "Amazing."

"You're - You're, you are - ?" Elrond stuttered in shock.

"I'm okay," you confirmed, caressing his cheek as he beamed down at you in pure glee. "I'm okay, love, I'm okay; Galadriel, she healed me," you sniffled, looking to your friend. "Thank you, my friend."

"Of course," she breathed, the Orcs heard shouting in the distance to overturn every rock. With a look of shared understanding, Galadriel told Elrond over your body while you tried to mop up some blood, "Get to Lindon. I will occupy them as long as I am able. Get her up."

Elrond huffed through his nose, but did as bid - not like he needed to even be told in the first place. He gathered you into himself and stood, making sure you were stable before looking back at Galadriel; slowly squatting again as she wriggled the ring from her finger. "Take it," she breathed, presenting Elrond with the band of jewelry. When he made no move, she snatched his hand and folded the ring into his grasp, "Take it, Elrond!"

"What will you do?" He asked begrudgingly, storing the ring in a leather pouch for safety.

"Something foolish, probably," she smirked, nodding in meaning. "Now, go. Go!"

"Elrond, love," you whispered, holding your hand out for his and heaving him to his feet. "With me, c'mon, quickly," you advised the others, beginning the trek down a new path in the woods. As you moved, you realized that Galadriel's ring hadn't just healed the arrow wound, but the Barrow-wight's chain, as well, which helps remedy your limp.

A semi-safe distance away, there came a decently loud and abrupt boom behind you, and upon looking, saw the trees up in flames. It was where Galadriel must've been battling the Orcs alone.

In earnest impression, Camnir narrated, "She scarified herself to save us all."

Elrond came to a halt when he realized his company members were captivated by the sight of heroics in action. So he interrupted their dreamy thoughts by calling, "No, you are mistaken, Camnir." He stalked forward through his delegates, telling them in their native tongue, "She did not do it to save us."

Tension simmered over each member.

"What?" Camnir questioned.

Elrond turned away from the spectacle with Galadriel's fire, consulting the dark again, speaking with ramped distain in Sandarin, "She did it to save the ring." His hand reached for yours again, the two of you leading the company forward with him calling over his shoulder in the Common Tongue, "Hurry!"

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

[fourraccoonsinacoat]

Heinrix van Calox Lore & Headcannons

Don't mind me, I'm just over here chewing on some random thoughts about our favorite agent of the Inquisition. Playing around with some of it for a fic and writing it out because it helps me organize my thoughts.

Knight World Culture & Heinrix's Internalized Hatred of Psykers

Having grown up on a Knight World, Heinrix would possess an internalized hatred for psykers (generally called "witches" on Knight Worlds) that we see him continually struggle with.

In Warhammer lore, many Knight Worlds survived the Age of Strife due to the fact that these worlds tended to shun psykers and not take advantage of the benefits of advanced machinery. So, when the warp imploded and AI told humanity to get fucked, many Knight Worlds were spared from the horrors of the Age of Strife and went on existing as they always had, led by a doctrine of tradition.

The noble families that lord over Knight Worlds hold to a rigorous belief in honor, fealty, social status, obligation, discipline and self-mastery. This creed is only reinforced by the Throne Mechanicum when, at 18, a prospective Knight pilot bonds with their Imperial Knight suit. The Throne Mechanicum is the cybernetic control hub of an Imperial Knight, and it connects to the pilot via neural interface implants in the pilot's brain. Through this neural connection, the Throne Mechanicum implants positive associations with the concepts of honor, fealty, etc., when the pilot bonds with their Knight. And it continues to do so over the course of the Knight's life. This is why these beliefs are so ingrained in Knight World nobles - because it is constantly reinforced by their bonds with their Imperial Knight suits.

On Knight Worlds, being a psyker is to be something impure, rotten and dangerous. They are the antithesis of everything the nobles hold dear and their shunning of psykers was what kept many of those worlds safe during the Age of Strife. Psykers are seen as unpredictable, violent and corrupted by the warp, and thus have no place in Knight World society. If not outright killed, they are always exiled and sent away on the Imperial Black Ships, just as Heinrix's family did with him.

Though Heinrix never went through the Ritual of Becoming - the rite to bond with an Imperial Knight suit - he was certainly being prepared to and would have grown up with the belief that psykers are corrupted and dangerous. Thus, when his psyker abilities manifested during his adolescent years, everything he believed about psykers was turned inward and became truths about himself.

Time and experiences have altered and evolved his beliefs, and we see him show empathy and understanding for other psykers like Idira and the RT, if they are a psyker. However, at his core remains the belief that psykers are inherently lesser.

We see this time and again, especially on his romance route, with how he talks about himself and psykers, in general. During his romance scene in Commorragh, if the RT questions why he remains loyal to the Imperium, Heinrix will say that the Imperium "deemed me stable enough to keep me as a sanctioned psyker" - refering to the Imperium's sanctioning process for psykers the Imperium wants to enlist. In Heinrix's mind, it's only through the grace of the Imperium that a corrupted individual like him is allowed to live. Which brings me to...

Heinrix believes it's his duty to die for the Imperium.

Heinrix literally believes he owes his life to the Imperium of Man. He grew up believing psykers were evil and corrupt individuals, likely deserving of death. And then his own powers manifested and suddenly he was one of those evil and corrupt individuals.

Something to understand about the Imperium is that sanctioned psykers are rare in Warhammer lore. While there are not any concrete numbers, conjecture from Warhammer books, etc., puts the ratio of those identified as psykers by the Inquisition as one in one billion. Then, in order to sustain the Astronomican, roughly 1,000 psykers perrish daily after being locked inside coffin-like devices bound to the Golden Throne. Inside, their essence is extracted and used to power the Astronomican. Psykers are constantly being shipped to Terra in order to fuel the Golden Throne, and the Imperium is, of course, holding onto backlogs of psykers in case ships don't come in or Terra gets cut off. This is what the majority of psykers in the Imperium are used for, and not many psykers are deemed worthwhile enough to go through sanctioning, which is also limited by the number of sanctioning implants available. Remember, no one is making these devices anymore.

The existence of a psyker in the 40k universe is not a happy one. If you manage to not get sacrificed to the Golden Throne, or used as a test subject or whatever else the Imperium is doing with psykers these days, the most common way to serve as a sanctioned psyker is to become an Astropath. Which sounds like it sucks. Very few are chosen for other service.

Considering all of this, it's hardly surprising that Heinrix feels he owes his loyalty to the Imperium. The Imperium allowed him to live. And then the Inquisition came along and saw something in him worth making him an acolyte for.

After being disowned by his family and having his implants ripped from his body, Heinrix likely thought all that awaited him after the Black Ship was death as a sacrifice to the Golden Throne. And yet he was pardoned and given another chance at life, as long as he uses that life to serve the Imperium.

If the RT passes a Persuasion check to get Heinrix to talk about what happened when he used the cogitator on Kiava Gamma, he even concludes his explanation by saying his "path leads to one place, and one place only."

This man fully expects to, and is ready to, die for the Imperium. The Imperium is the only thing giving him purpose. The Imperium accepted him after his family disowned him. The Imperium is all he has, and he will use the life they allowed him to keep and serve them faithfully until that life is used up. In his mind, he deserves nothing more and ought to be happy to be given the opportunity to exist and serve.

Heinrix is extremely self-concious about his appearance.

We get a hint about this in Act 5 when talking to Tanakia, a member of Calcazar's retinue. She mocks him by talking about the attention he paid to his hair and eyes, a sore point for Heinrix considering that, by the time he joined the Inquisition, he's lost an eye and had a chunk carved out of his head in order to remove various implants.

During his romance scene in Commorragh, he refers to himself as a "maimed freak" and talks about how he used his biomancy to repair his damaged cranium and eye in order to "look more like a human again."

If you're romancing Heinrix, he even leaves after you release him in the Anatomical Opera. When you find him in the Pit, he talks about how he didn't want the others, or the RT, to see him in the condition he was in.

Considering his childhood as a noble on a Knight World, care for appearance would be something strongly instilled within him. Knight Worlds are feudal worlds with highly aristocratic societies, so the concept of presenting a buttoned-up and well-kempt appearance would be important for children of noble families.

Heinrix talks about spending years working to reconstruct his eye, which I think also hints at him having a fastitidious and perfectionist personality. I have a personal headcannon that he dislikes the fact he wasn't able to perfectly match his original eye color, and it's a sore spot for him.

Okay, this is a lot longer than I originally intended for it to be. I've got more, but need to stop turning this man over and over in my head and get some actual work done.

[dollfaceksj]

the pink pill | myg version (m) — “no one else”

➥ banner by @jkndigo.

➥ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: In each of these universes, you find yourself consuming what is known as the pink pill. This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ porn with plot ⋆ exes

➥ CATEGORY: one-shot [part of the pink pill series]

➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, angst, exes but also idiots, degradation kink, unprotected sex (dont be like them), rough sex but also love-making??, did i mention a bit of angst, multiple positions guys yoongi is catching up for missing u all those times likeee, spankingggg, making out w tongue, overstimulation, claiming/possessiveness, multiple orgasms for reader, extremelyhorny!reader, cocky exboyfriend!yoongi…. yeah., hes a sick son of a bitch but thats why we like him besides he’s pretty tame in this i have worse yoongi’s up my sleeve this is nothin, neither of you have moved on, mutual pining but mutual STUBBORNNESSSSS for fucks sake, filthy words, creampie, oral sex (f. rec), embarrassingly quick climaxes likeee, minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 9.8k

a/n: and at last, yoongi’s ver of the pink pill is finally out!!! thank you for loving jk’s version! i hope you enjoy yoongi’s. beware of a bit of angst and complicated feelings<33

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

Your trembling thumb hovers over the blue arrow next to your unsent message, eyes scanning over the message over and over again. Your heart might implode in your chest the moment you hit send, which is why you’ve been staring at the message that would cause more cons than pros for the past 5 minutes.

Well, would it, though? It’s just a favor. You need a favor.

It’s like your brain is talking directly to your heart. Your brain is telling you how bad of an idea this is whilst your heart is just rolling its non-existent eyes at the nagging, as if your heart isn’t about to slide up your airways into your esophagus, travel straight up your burning throat and launch out of your mouth. You need to calm down.

The aggravating lump in your throat doesn’t let up.

And that’s when the pad of your thumb impulsively hits the damn blue arrow that’s been mockingly staring at you for the past few minutes.

[11:12PM]

from: You

to: Ignore

can you come over

Once the small letters that say ‘delivered’ pop up under your blue message, you internally scream into the void. Your eyes stay glued to your phone, the back of your phone is becoming slimy in your grasp due to the sweat your palms are rapidly producing.

You barely blink as you stare at the screen, your lips twitching as you wait and attempt to ignore the anxiety bubbling in your chest.

Your gaze slowly shifts upwards on the conversation, rereading old messages. The last you heard from him was 4 months ago. The two of you broke up around 9 months ago but still slept together for a good 2-3 months after.

The last message between you two from 4 months ago was you asking him when he could come pick up the rest of his shit. He came, picked up his shit and that’s when you last saw him. You barely exchanged any words. You had anticipated having sex one last time but he just wordlessly collected his stuff and left.

So, it’s understandable why you’d be so worried about asking him to come over and… well, ask him if he can fuck the shit out of you.

Your heart plummets into the pit of the earth when you notice the ‘delivered’ has turned into ‘read 11:13PM’.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

He’s not responding.

Why is he not responding?

One minute passes. Two minutes pass. Three minutes. Four.

You’ve been staring at your phone the entire time and not once did the bubble that indicates he’s typing pop up.

What if he doesn’t even want to talk to you?

Fuck.

What the fuck were you even thinking?

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

After cleaning up the coffee table that was covered in snacks and empty cans that you used to take your mind off the excruciating arousal pooling in your core, you start heading into your once-shared bedroom with your head held down. It’s been 12 minutes since you sent that message and you haven’t gotten a response.

You’re a damn loser.

You plan to start slipping out of your plain shirt and shorts, cringing when you realize you’ve completely soaked through your cotton shorts. How fucking embarrassing. What the hell is in that pill?

Right as your fingers tuck under the hem of your shorts to pull them down your legs, you hear a rhythmic knock on your front door.

What? Who could…

Wait.

It possibly couldn’t be.

The lump returns to your throat at lightning speed as you start heading down your corridor, sluggishly dragging your feet across the floor.

You press your hand flat against the door in an attempt to gather your thoughts and collect your breath before you slowly start opening up, his familiar feline eyes staring at you with an agitated look pooling in them.

“What do you want?” He doesn’t even have the decency to greet you, he just stands there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants.

You quietly swallow as you cross your arms over your chest, stepping to the side to wordlessly invite him in. When he gives you a raised eyebrow in confusion, you say, “I don’t need my neighbors hearing my business.”

The exasperated sigh he lets out slightly stings but he walks in nonetheless. You close the door behind him but he’s showing no intentions or moves to take his shoes off. He just stands in front of the door, annoyance draped over his features.

You silently stare up at him, hoping he doesn’t notice your strange demeanor.

“So? Are you gonna tell me what you want or are you just gonna stare at me and continue to waste my time?” His words are blunt and brutal—the bitterness that he still holds in his heart for you hasn’t left him, it seems.

You finally find the courage to speak up and quietly say, “I need a favor, Yoongi.”

He blankly stares at you for a few moments. Humorlessly laughs at your request. Drops his head. Shakes it from side to side in disbelief.

You can’t help but glare at his reaction, fighting the urge to roll your eyes and spew insulting words at him. This is kind of selfish of you.

“Why would I do you a favor?” he asks once he’s stopped laughing, staring you down with hooded eyelids and no traces of mock amusement left on his face.

“I’ll owe you,” you say, failing to hide the clear annoyance in your tone. You want to strangle him.

“You already owe me.” His response is almost immediate, leaving you speechless for a few seconds as you stare up at him with a frown etched onto your brows.

“Excuse me? What the fuck do I owe you?”

He tilts his head to the side with an irritated look on his face before he says, “I don’t know, you wasted 3 years of my fucking life?”

You exaggeratedly roll your eyes at his words, shaking your head in exasperation. “I could quite literally say the same to you.”

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, his intense stare down never letting up.

He decides to ignore your remark and repeats, “What do you want, Y/N?”

You swallow again, looking to the side to avoid his penetrating gaze as you think about how the fuck you’re going to ask him what you want to ask him.

How do you even begin to ask?

Hey, you haven’t heard from me in months but could you fuck me real quick?

“What? Do you need money?” he asks in a neutral tone, although you can sense the concern tinged in his words.

“No,” you mumble, the collar of your shirt is starting to feel like it’s closing in around the perimeter of your neck with the goal of suffocating you.

He continues, “Then what? An alibi?”

You throw your head back in exasperation as you groan, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

It’s quiet for a moment and it makes you look at him. You notice he’s staring straight at you like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on and what you aren’t telling him.

“Need some lovin’?” he asks with a certain humorous tone, the joke causing you to glance up at him through your lashes with big eyes.

It seems like only then that he takes notice of your swollen lips, your dilated pupils, the thin layer of sweat on your forehead and the quickened breathing with the way his eyes scan your entire face and the frown on his brows slowly disappearing when the realization dawns on him.

He narrows his eyes at you and his hands leave his pockets, swiftly moving to cross over his chest as his lips twitch, something you can only describe as him trying to stifle a smirk. “You actually asked me to come over so I could come fuck you?”

Your mind travels at incomprehensible speed to come up with an answer, leaving you scrambled and almost stuttering. You blurt out, “It’s your fault.”

This makes his brows pinch together in utter confusion. “How the hell is it my fault?”

A deep sigh pushes past your lips as you drop your arms from your chest, hands resting on your hips as you look at the floor in shame. “I was cleaning shit up and I came across that dumb pink pill you bought that you wanted me to try but never got the chance to,” you explain, peeking up at him through your lashes momentarily before averting your gaze again.

“Pill? What pink pill?” he repeats, the frown on his face deepening further as the word leaves his mouth.

“Yes, that stupid pink pussycat pill, Yoongi. We bought it as a joke to try on our anniversary but then we had that stupid fight.” You try to get him to recall the events of a year ago, the quick wince on his face at the mention of your anniversary fight doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Anyway, I didn’t want it to go to waste and I was wondering what it might feel like or if it even works. So, I took it earlier today, for shits and giggles.”

He slowly nods to your words as the memories come back to him, seemingly remembering how excited he was for you to take that pill. “So, I reckon the pill is doing what it said it would?”

You merely grunt in response.

He’s silent for a few seconds before quietly chuckling, shaking his head. His chuckle is so deep and sultry, it shoots a tingle right down your soaked panties.

You huff, “What’s so amusing, you dickhead?”

He glances at you through his brows for a moment before averting his gaze, his eyes roaming his surroundings as he looks around your once-shared home. “I’m just flattered, is all.”

“Flattered?” you repeat, a disapproving frown on your features. He’s turning this entire thing into a compliment for himself.

You really can’t fucking stand him.

“You could’ve flaunted that pretty face out at some bar and gotten someone to fuck you without needing to offer any favors,” he explains, giving you a glimpse of his thought process, those words making your body heat up all over again.

Damn him.

You know Yoongi has always found you insanely attractive but him so nonchalantly reminding you has set your insides aflame.

“You know I don’t do that stuff,” you mumble with a shake to your head.

His bitter, humorless chuckle booms in your ears. Why does it sound like he’s literally inside your head? “That’s exactly how we met, you dirty liar.” He reminds you of how his hips were slamming into yours an hour after you met him and no rebuttal comes to your mind.

You silently stare at him, bringing your hand up to wipe some of the sweat off your hairline with the back of your index finger.

“Yeah, you know what? I don’t know why I even texted you. You can leave,” you say, a surge of anger coursing through your veins as you reach for the door handle but Yoongi is quicker than you.

His hand quickly reaches for yours, fingers wrapping tightly around your wrist. “I can tell you why you did,” he quips, cockily.

You glare up at him but make no effort to remove his hand from your skin, the single touch of his skin against yours sends lava down all your veins and every single one of your nerve-endings. Fuck, you wish you could pounce him right fucking now. You finally gather your thoughts and say, “Oh, please, do enlighten me.”

“You asked me here because you don’t want all that arousal to go to waste on someone that doesn’t know your body like I do.” He starts closing the gap between you two, face closing in on yours. “They won’t do the things you like.”

Your throat tightens at his proximity and his words, your lungs seconds away from imploding in between your ribcage.

“And you’re too shy to tell them because you know you like filthy things.” He moves his other hand up to trace the shell of your ear with the tip of his index finger, his eyes glued to how his finger glides down your skin.

If he noticed his touch instantly awoke the goosebumps on your skin, he doesn’t comment on it and continues to play with your ear, fingers coming down to rub your earlobe in between the pads of his thumb and index finger.

“No one knows your body like I do, no one else.” He drops his hand from your ear to trace the collar of your shirt, the tip of his finger occasionally grazing your neck. “No one knows how filthy you are. How needy you are. How you like to be touched and kissed. That’s how I know,” he concludes.

He adds, “You clearly haven’t moved on.”

He was doing so well, too.

Haven’t moved on? Son of a bitch.

“Yeah, well, what about you?” you blurt out. You watch as his thick eyebrows scrunch together in smug mockery.

“What about me? Don’t turn this on me, sweetheart. You’re the one asking me to come fuck you.” He starts to take off his shoes, kicking them aside like he used to do.

Cocky asshole.

“You showed up 10 minutes after a simple ‘come over’ text, no questions asked.” You remind him of tonight’s events and his face slowly turns into a scowl, his usual quick witty comebacks suddenly nonexistent.

“So what?” he mumbles, not in the mood to fight you for this any longer because he knows he’ll lose.

“Just admit you want this as bad as I do instead of being smart about it,” you say, rolling your eyes as you take a step back to create some more distance between you two. You hadn’t realized he’d gotten that close.

He shrugs his shoulders with an air of nonchalance, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “I wouldn’t say as bad as you.”

Right, because you took that pill and your arousal is off the charts.

He must think he’s sooooooo funny.

“You’re a lia–”

Before you can even finish speaking, he takes a step closer and it inevitably traps you in between his body and the wall behind you. He arrogantly adds, “Want me to push my fingers into your panties and check?”

Fuck.

He shouldn’t still have the ability to knock the oxygen right out of your lungs with just silly words. He shouldn’t.

You stare up at him with a furrow in your brows, eyes wide and lips almost quivering, simply at the thought of him touching you. Damn him.

And he knows.

Because his gaze drops to your lips before back to your eyes, the corners of his own lips curling up at something he’s thinking about.

“What?” you grumble, your voice barely coming out and leaving you for dead in your time of need.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head and adds a shrug to his shoulders for extra nonchalance. “I just think after you ran your mouth like this, it’d be more fun to make you beg for it.”

Your hands come up to his chest, pressing flat against him to push him back but he doesn’t budge an inch because there’s no real strength behind the push and he knows it.

“I hate you,” you quietly say, hands still pressed up against his chest with the tiniest bit of pressure to make it seem like you don’t want him.

Unfortunately, Yoongi knows you too well.

“That’s fine, as long as you’re good to me.” The words leave his mouth in a breathy chuckle that drapes over your lips as his face closes in on yours, plump lips grazing the skin of your jaw. “You were always so good to me.”

“Why did you leave me, then?” Your voice comes out a bit choked, a big gulp following your question and it’s almost like you’re attempting to swallow the words back down. You can’t believe you just blurted that out. Is one of the side effects of that dumb pink pill being emotional as hell?

He freezes for a few seconds before pulling away and searching for your eyes. His expression is decorated by a frown and his pretty lips are pressed into a thin line.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, just lets the deafening silence settle around you. Stares at you as if one of the world’s greatest unsolved mysteries is being revealed to him and the answer is in your irises. Watches as you idly blink at him and it makes his lips twitch. Seems to be in deep thought and you can’t figure out what’s going through his mind for the life of you.

Then, he speaks.

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

His words paired with his intense gaze sends a jolt of electricity down your spine, leaving your legs to wobble like they’re made of jelly.

You both stare at each other for a while in complete silence. His familiar, black, feline eyes staring into yours so intimately summon a vine that wraps around your heart, digging its sharp thorns into your most beloved organ until it bleeds out all over your insides.

He’s right.

You clearly haven’t moved on.

“Let’s just,” you pause and shake your head free of those thoughts. You don’t bother to finish your sentence as you wrap your fingers around his wrist, leading him toward your once-shared bedroom and he simply lets you.

As soon as you walk in, you let go of his hand and reach for the hem of your shirt. You yank it off your body without a second of hesitation before tossing it somewhere on the floor and it makes him chuckle for some reason.

You turn to glare at him. “Something funny?” you snark, arms crossing over your chest like a child that wanted the purple lollipop instead of the yellow one.

He stares at you from the entrance of your room, an amused smile still on his pretty lips. His eyes scan the walls and the furniture as he slowly makes his way in, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “I see that you’ve changed the entire room.”

Your eyes follow the direction of his gaze, scanning around the room as if you’d forgotten what you changed about the place. “Yeah.”

He struts toward you, getting so close that he’s practically pressed up against you. His onyx eyes stare you down, one of his infamous unreadable expressions plastered on his face. “Trying to act like I never existed?” he asks, hands still buried in his pockets and fuck, how you wish he would just give in and touch you.

You simply blink up at him, your eyes pingpong-ing between his eyes from left to right continuously as you try to think of a way to answer.

Should you lie? Should you just be honest?

As if on cue, your question is answered when he lazily places his right hand on your hip, pulling you even closer to him.

Be honest.

“No.” You shake your head slightly, never breaking eye contact with the enticing man in front of you. “I was never going to forget about you if everywhere I looked just reminded me of you.”

His hand tenses on your hip, a muscle in his jaw tenses up and your eyes are just in time to catch the way his Adam’s apple bounces up and down.

You shift your eyes back up to his, blinking your eyelids at him so innocently yet so full of temptation. He slowly starts nodding his head as if he just had an epiphany and then moves his hand from your hip to your waist.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, thumb rubbing circles onto your bare skin.

You shrug your shoulders smugly. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He doesn’t need anything else. His lips are on top of yours the moment the words leave your mouth, teeth clashing at how quickly he lunges at you.

His mouth devours you like a man starved as his other hand grips the back of your head to keep you in his grasp, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth.

Several soft moans resound in your throat that he simply swallows, hand balling into a fist on the back of your head, gripping your hair at the root.

You mewl, your hands coming up to squeeze his biceps as you try to grind your hips into his. Fuck, you’re like a fucking animal in heat.

“Fuck, I’m barely touching you and you’re this needy,” he whispers against your open mouth before shoving his tongue back in.

Your insides are set ablaze when he starts pushing you backwards with his own body until your calves hit the mattress and automatically makes you fall backwards, dropping onto your bed.

He wastes no time climbing on top of you, lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down the column of your throat to the strap of your bra as he gently starts tugging them off your shoulders.

You automatically arch your back off the mattress, encouraging him to unclasp your bra and he does.

Whilst he unclasps your bra, he coats your collarbones in soft kisses and absentmindedly throws your bra to the side as he brings his hand back up to fondle your breast in his large hand.

“Fuck,” you whisper, every single inch of his touch electrifies your body and sets your soul alight. Damn, you’ve missed this.

His thumb gently teases your erect nipple, rolling it around whilst he continues to nibble on the skin of your neck.

Your hips involuntarily buck upwards into nothing and you almost flinch at the way his breath grazes your neck when Yoongi softly chuckles, clearly finding your extreme level of arousal amusing.

“Can you just stop teasing me?” you whine, legs spreading wider and wider without a second thought.

“You’re gonna have to ask a lot nicer if you want me to do that, sugar.” He lifts his head off your shoulder and closes in on your other breast, wrapping his lips around it whilst his hand slowly travels down your stomach to your clothed sex. He starts sucking on your nipple and the effects of that pill makes it so it feels like he’s touching you all over, on every part of your body, on every inch of your skin. Causes you to squirm and moan under him like a fish separated from a body of water.

“Fuck,” he chuckles, “I should’ve made you take that pill so fucking long ago. Look at you.”

You simply grumble, “Fuck you.”

He lifts his head off your breast to stare at you directly in the eyes and you instantly regret running your mouth. “Yoongi, I just want–”

Smack!

“Ow!” you cry out, the warmth of the slap on your pussy spreading through your skin like wildfire. You instantly whimper, “I’m sorry.”

The apology means nothing to him, though.

He shakes his head. “Always running that fucking mouth of yours.” His fingers tuck under the hem of your shorts and he slides them down your legs before tossing them aside like he has personal beef with the article of clothing.

“Holy shit,” he whispers as he glances at the massive wet patch on your panties and all the slick smeared around your inner thighs, eyes practically bulging out of his eye sockets.

You can’t help but frown, though. “What?”

“No wonder,” he says, seemingly answering his own unspoken question. “You are completely soaked. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucking horny.”

You whine, tucking your thumbs under the hem of your panties to drag them down your legs and he doesn’t even try to stop you, just simply stares at you in awe but your panties don’t budge an inch when you stop and decide to just give in, in hopes he’ll fall for your tricks.

“Please, just,” you yelp, “fuck me. Please. I think I’ll die if you don’t.”

He throws his head back as he laughs, his gorgeous neck on full display for you. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Yoongi,” you pause, “I’m so fucking serious. I’ve been thinking about you fucking me all day. I need you to. Please.”

He searches your face and seemingly takes note of the desperation and earnestness in your eyes. Shortly after, he drags his gaze down your exposed body, simply staring at your naked figure.

Sprawled out on your bed, lips swollen, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin, pupils dilated, breasts bare with nipples standing at attention and your arousal that has already started dripping onto your sheets.

He slowly starts to nod his head and in the blink of an eye, he yanks his own shirt off.

The view of his bare chest brings back so many memories, all the times he fucked you good come rushing back to you and it isn’t fucking helping your case.

A persistent lump forms in your throat that refuses to disappear but that’s when you realize that it’s not just a lump but words. The words ‘I miss you’ are forcing their way to the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill.

But you absolutely refuse to let that happen.

Just bite your tongue.

“All day, huh?” he muses, talking more to himself. He quickly ditches his sweatpants in the meantime and tosses them off the bed. “What took you so long to text me?”

You silently watch as he crawls back over to you in just his black boxers, settling right next to your body and supporting his own weight with his elbow while his other hand returns to your panties. Teasingly plays with the hem. Presses his lips against your neck. Inhales your scent.

You stay quiet for a few moments, eyes shut tightly at the tip of his fingers brushing against your pelvis. So close yet so far. “My pride,” you finally reply.

He simply chuckles at your words and slowly tucks his fingers under the hem of your panties, groaning when the back of his knuckles brush against the sticky patch of your arousal on the inside of your panties. “I don’t think I’ve seen this amount of wetness. Not even in porn.”

His skin finally makes contact with your sex, running right up your wet slit and collecting all of your arousal on the tip of his finger. “Holy fucking shit, Y/N.”

You mewl, hips already thrusting up into his hand but he simply uses his palm to press down on your pelvis.

“Stay still.” The demand makes your insides twist into a wringed out shirt and makes your pussy clench around nothing.

“I can’t,” you whimper, legs shaking at the simple touch of his fingers smearing your arousal all over your sex. “I’m trying to but I can’t.”

It’s like you have no control over your body whatsoever. You just want to be fucked.

“Why can’t you?” he quips as he plunges two fingers right into you, groaning when your slick walls tightly hug his fingers. He already knows, he just likes to push your buttons.

“Because I want you,” you breathe out, moaning at the sensation of his fingers slowly pumping into you. Your sensitivity is off the fucking charts, just his fingers being buried in your pussy without any movement whatsoever could have you cumming in no time.

“I can tell,” he cockily chuckles. His sultry laugh is so full of mockery, the type that would usually piss you the fuck off but in this moment turns you the fuck on. “I just need to prep you, baby. Can’t be hurting you simply because you’re writhing like an animal in heat.”

You quickly shake your head. “I don’t need any fucking prep,” you moan as his hand picks up in pace. “Please, just fuck me. I’m already wetter than I’ve ever been. You literally just said it yourself.”

He lifts his head off your collarbones and searches your eyes for a moment, a stern frown on his brows. “Are you sure?”

Yoongi’s always been into manhandling you and being rough but only when it’s pleasurable for you. He’d usually go down on you or work you towards an orgasm using just his fingers, in hopes it’d have you ready to take him.

So, no, he’s not used to just jumping in and fucking you.

You quickly nod your head. “Never been more sure.”

He stares at you for a moment longer but the sincerity in your eyes is prominent. He then simply spreads your folds with his sticky fingers, smearing your arousal all over your sex before pulling his fingers out of your pussy, the sounds leaving your sex almost embarrassing you.

He slides his hand out of your panties and glances at his hand, eyes scanning his fingers coated in your pussy slick.

“Fuck, look at that,” he whispers but doesn’t even grant you the time to look when he immediately shoves his fingers into his mouth, sucking all your arousal off his digits.

“Yoongi,” you whine, clenching around nothing as you watch him.

“Fuck, princess,” he grunts as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth. “It’s been too long. I’m gonna need to eat that.”

You want to protest but he’s already pulling you toward him by your thighs, settling in between them as he’s now face to face with your slick-covered panties.

“I want to be fucked,” you whine, staring down at him between your legs but his eyes are just focused on your panties.

He replies, “And I want to fucking eat you out so you’re gonna have to be patient, you little brat.”

You don’t have the time to whine any more when he pushes your panties to the side and the single action could have you coming undone, right here, right now.

He idly stares at your glistening pussy like he’s Monkey D. fucking Luffy and he found the One Piece after years of venturing the seas.

“Why are you staring like that?” you quietly ask, unfortunately not possessing enough strength to close your thighs out of self-consciousness.

With a simple shake of his head, his face closes in on your sex and he licks a long stripe up your pussy, collecting a great amount of your arousal in a single swipe of his hungry tongue.

But you’re oozing so much wetness that he simply keeps going, licking all around your sex before focusing on your swollen, angry clit. He wraps his lips around your sensitive pleasure nub and starts sucking, coating his entire chin in your juices.

“Fuck!” you cry, reaching over to pull on his roots, fingers tangled in his soft black locks.

The sensitivity you’re experiencing is too much. “I’m gonna fucking cum, Yoongi.” You’re not even joking.

“Already?” he hums in mockery before wrapping his lips around your clit again and sucks some more with no regard of overstimulating you.

You quickly nod your head and within the next few seconds, you’re cumming all over his tongue and around his mouth. A cry rips through your throat and you’re sobbing at this point, pulling so hard on his roots that it causes him to hiss in pain.

Grinding your hips up into his face, into his nose, into his mouth. You can’t believe how quickly that stupid pink pill has you levitating off the bed, it’s like you don’t even belong on Earth anymore.

The orgasm hits you like none ever before, leaving you even more sensitive. You came within barely, what? A minute of stimulation? Two? Oh, you’re so done for.

You push against Yoongi’s head in hopes he’ll stop and he does—after giving your swollen clit one last slurp.

“Holy shit.” You can’t believe that just happened.

“That was really fast. What was that? A minute? A minute and 30 seconds?” he laughs as he sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“It’s that fucking pill,” you mumble defensively, trying to catch your breath.

A low chuckle leaves his mouth before he glances down at the bulge in his boxers. “Well,” he pauses, “you should take that pill more often.”

You roll your eyes with all the brattiness you can muster, hoping it annoys him as much as he annoys you. “This is the last time I’m even letting you in here, I hope you know that.”

His eyes shift back up to yours and he tilts his head to the side in question, blinking at you with a glimmer in his eyes that you can’t quite describe.

You stare back, trying your best not to look fucked out right now but you know you’re failing horribly at it when he simply shakes his head and lets out a bitter chuckle.

“You just wanted to use me one last time, hm?” he scoffs as his fingers tuck under the hem of his boxers, sliding them down his thighs and tossing them off the bed.

A surge of guilt spreads through your chest when you realize how that must’ve sounded to him. “You know that’s not what I meant, Yoongi.”

“No?” he muses, placing his hands on the back of your thighs before pushing them all the way against the mattress on each side of your body. You know your body isn’t supposed to be able to do this, apparent by the strain in your inner thighs but for some reason, it doesn’t bother you as much.

“No,” you whimper as he uses his own weight to keep your thighs spread, sliding his rock hard dick in between your folds handsfree, but not entering you just yet. It has you squeezing your eyelids shut, trying to focus on the feeling of his rock hard cock—all the ridges and veins on his dick—rubbing so good against your swollen clit.

“I don’t believe you,” he says, watching as you squirm from the slightest bit of friction that he has full control over. It makes you want to smack that grin right off his face.

“I swear,” you sniff, not even being able to thrust your hips up for more friction because Yoongi’s weight and strength keeps you restrained.

He simply hums in response, continuing to slide his dick over your slit, completely coating his shaft in your slick. “If you want me to believe you,” he pauses as his eyes shift up to yours, “you’re going to have to beg and convince me. Tell me how what you just said isn’t true.”

“Please,” you say, no hesitation. “Please, I didn’t mean that. I–just fuck me. I swear I don’t want anyone else to be in your position right now, I only want you. No one else knows me like you, no one.”

He continues to simply watch your face twist in borderline agony from the lack of friction, the sensation you so desperately crave.

“That so?” His tone is filled with so much arrogance that it makes your veins burn with lava.

You merely hum in response and finally crack your eyelids open, just to see him staring into your eyes with that familiar glint in his. Fuck.

“Ready?” he whispers, lining his tip up with your hole and cockily chuckles when you eagerly nod your head.

He abruptly freezes. “Ah, fuck, wait.” His dick is not on your slit anymore and it makes you frown at him.

“What?”

He groans, “I have no condoms.”

For fuck’s sake.

“I mean,” you start, “you’re the last person I had sex with. Did you have sex with anyone after me?”

You’re not sure you even want to hear about it but in this moment you’d do anything to just have him finally fuck the shit out of you.

He avoids your gaze as he keeps it glued to his dick sliding up and down your slit. “I have.”

Oh.

“But it was protected, always,” he adds with a quickness, tone calculated and quiet.

Oh.

Okay.

That’s good but it doesn’t make you feel any better.

You have to swallow your emotions at this moment because your pussy is basically screaming at you to just swallow your pride. “Okay, then just do it without.”

He peers up at you through his thick brows with a frown. “Are you sure?”

You mumble, “For fuck’s sake.” Your hand quickly reaches for his shaft but he slaps it away just as quickly.

“I know you’re horny as fuck but I need you to be 100%,” he pauses when he sees you glaring at his dick. “Look at me, dammit.”

Your eyes shift to his and you childishly groan. “Yes, Yoongi, I 100% consent to letting you fuck me raw. Now, will you please just–”

He doesn’t even let you finish talking as he slides his dick right into you, bottoming out completely. You yelp at the intrusion, your slick walls stretching around his shaft so well, like it always has.

“Holy shit,” he whispers with closed eyes, the disgusting squelching coming from your sexes is proof of your arousal and the moans falling from his lips as your pussy tightly hugs him sounds like a choir of angels sustaining a high C.

You try to keep quiet, you try not to squirm, you try not to say the craziest things right now. Like ‘I love you’, or ‘I’ve missed you so much’ because you’re just horny and dumb.

“Move,” you whimper, needing more than he’s giving you right now. He hears you loud and clear, sliding out of you and right back in. The disgusting squelching reaches your ears but you can’t bring yourself to care at the moment, not when Yoongi finds it hot and throws in occasional ‘fuck, listen to that’s and ‘you’re so fucking wet’s.

You cuss, eyes rolling to the back of your head when your sensitivity reaches its peak. A few more thrusts will already have you cumming, you’re sure of it.

He continues to thrust, slowly starting to pick up his pace and he finally cracks his eyelids open. His eyes find yours as he stares at you—scanning your pretty face that he loves to look at—especially when it’s twisted in pleasure like that.

Brows furrowed, lips swollen, pupils dilated, mouth agape, a thin layer of sweat draped over your forehead and building up in your hairline.

Somewhere along the line, the eye contact becomes too intense for you. Your hand snakes around the back of his head, closing the distances between you two by pulling him closer to you, licking and sucking on the honey tinted skin of his neck.

After a while of sucking and nipping at his neck and his thrusts never coming to a halt, your orgasm starts approaching you rapidly again. “I’m gonna cum,” you cry, tears pricking in your eyes from the pure pleasure that’s setting all your insides ablaze.

“Already?” he murmurs as he leans down, kissing away the tears that have subtly started rolling down your temples. “But I have yet to ruin you.”

Fuck.

“Whatever, though. I guess you’re just going to lose count of the amount of orgasms I’ll fuck you through.” He states it so nonchalantly because he knows only he could ever make you feel like this, make you desperate like this, make you a needy mess like this.

His hips continue to harshly snap into yours, the indescribable sensation of being fucked at this angle and pace has your thighs clenching. Unsurprisingly not long after, your orgasm hits you full force once again.

A sob rips through your throat, your trembling hands grab at his shoulders, nails painfully digging into his skin as he fucks you through your high. His low chuckle rings in your ear, breath hitting your throat as he lowers his face into the crook of your neck.

“Cumming all over my dick and sucking marks on my neck. Are you trying to claim me again?” he whispers, knowing how possessiveness was big a turn on for the both of you back in your relationship.

You simply cry under him, the orgasm lasting longer than any you’ve ever had before. His dick kisses your cervix repeatedly, your breasts bounce continuously from the momentum of his thrusts and the sound of his skin slapping yours only increases in volume the longer he fucks you.

“I asked you something,” he says, lifting his head off your shoulder to stare down at you. “Where’d that bratty mouth that I love so much go?”

You simply grunt in response, teary eyes glaring at him as you slowly come down from your high. The corners of his lips curl up in a twisted smirk at the sight in front of him, you know he enjoys seeing you in this state and him being the sole cause of it pleases him greatly.

The overstimulation is starting to catch up to you. Your hand basically moves on its own, pressing flat into his lower abdomen in order to get him to slow down.

However, it means nothing to him. He simply continues to thrust into you like he’s got something to prove. “Answer me, Y/N. Do you want to claim me again?” he repeats.

You mewl, sinking your cranium further into your soft pillows, exposing more of your throat and neck to him as tears continue to pour out of your eyes.

“Fuck you,” you whimper, digging your nails into the skin around his belly button but it doesn’t elicit a single reaction from him.

He simply chuckles at your snarky comment as he lowers his lips onto your throat, sucking and nipping at it. You know he expected you to say that. No one else knows you like the back of their hand like he does.

“There’s my girl,” he mumbles against your skin. His words paired with the simple act of kissing your neck has all your insides clenching and twisting with something you can’t quite describe.

Butterflies?

Something you’re not going to admit out loud.

“I don’t appreciate you talking to me like that, though.” With one more thrust, he pulls out of you and harshly flips you onto your stomach. You don’t even have the time to react when he gently grabs your hips yet roughly hoists your ass up off the mattress.

A sharp sting spreads through your asscheek and that’s when you realize his rough hand came down on your bum, spanking you hard.

“Ow!” you screech in pain yet pleasure, every vein in your body pumping blood faster and faster as you anticipate exactly why, of all people, you called Yoongi over.

He doesn’t even give you the time to come down from that spanking before he gives you another one. And another one. And another one.

“You ask me to come over after not talking to me for months, then beg me to fuck you. I give you what you want and you still have the audacity to be so rude to me?” He clicks his tongue loudly and immediately after the scolding, spanks you yet again. “Biting the hand that feeds you. Tsk. I should cum in that filthy mouth of yours for talking to me like this.”

He shoves his dick back inside without a warning and continues to assault your poor asscheeks, rough palms continuously coming down to your ass in loud smacks.

You hoarsely cry out under him, most likely from the embarrassment because thanks to that damn pill you might cum from just being spanked at this point.

As if he heard your thoughts, the spanking comes to an end and his hands are now flat on your back, keeping you pressed into the mattress with his weight while he starts fucking into you again. “You like getting fucked from the back, right?”

Your ass bounces back against his hips with each thrust, adding more and more sensations to your body. You’re not going to last for very much longer.

He mumbles, “No, that’s not it.” He leans forwards, pressing his chest into your back, lips grazing the shell of your ear and he places his hands against the mattress on each side of your waist, supporting his own weight. “You just love being fucked like a slut.”

Fuck.

“Isn’t that right? You don’t care in what position you get fucked in, as long as you’re getting fucked, hm? Like the horny slut you are.” He remembers exactly what you like and it’s embarrassing. “My slut, though. No one else’s.”

And you admit that yes, you wouldn't just want any stranger to talk to you like this.

It only works with Yoongi because he knows you. Because he understands you. Because he loves you.

Or he did once, at least.

But him showing up at your front door, no questions asked, 10 minutes after you asked him to, might be proof of something you both are trying to deny. Not like it matters.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you moan. You’ve already lost count but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s fucking you so good.

“Cumming so quickly from just being talked to like this. I bet you’ve missed my filthy mouth just as much as I missed yours,” he whispers into your ear, pressing soft kisses to your skin in a way only a lover should. “I fucking love it.”

The soft kissing and the low volume of his voice are a stark contrast to the rough pounding of his hips and the degrading words leaving his lips.

And you can’t help but love it.

“Tell me I’m right,” he demands as he picks up the pace, snaking one hand around to wrap around your throat and pull you up until the back of your head collides with his shoulder. “Tell me it’s true.”

Now with your orgasm approaching, he knows you’d do anything to get there.

He knows you too well.

“Fuck, I love it!” you cry as your nth orgasm washes over you, your body violently jerking under him from the overstimulation you’re experiencing.

“I know you do,” he chuckles as he fucks you through your orgasm. “That’s my girl. My fuckin’ girl.”

Fuck.

He has no idea what those words do to you.

Well, it’s Yoongi. He definitely knows what it’s doing to you.

Because you are not his girl. Not anymore.

But you don’t have the energy to correct him nor do you want to. Because at this moment, it feels like the two of you never separated. Like you never spent a day apart. All of the nostalgia, love and hate comes rushing back to you. Surely it’s that stupid pink pill’s fault.

He pulls out in a swift motion and turns you onto your side before he lies down behind you on his side as well, chest pressed into your back as he pulls you closer.

Fuck, how many positions is he going to fuck you in? Is he making up for all the time you spent apart?

Now that you’re in spooning position, he gently places his hand under your thigh and lifts it up to spread your legs. His hand leaves your thigh as he uses the same hand to guide his dick to your pussy again.

Your thigh almost wants to give out and drop, your chest still dramatically rising and falling as you chase your breath.

Another cocky chuckle rumbles in his chest at how you struggle to even move now, his hot breath draping over your neck and his hand returning to the same spot on your inner thigh as he lifts your leg again and pushes into you.

Your head falls back, falling deeper into his embrace and he welcomes that by pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. “I don’t know how I survived all those months without y–” he pauses, “your pussy.”

Hmph. He’s the pussy if he doesn’t want to admit he misses you.

But then again, he was never that type. Yoongi was never the type to show his love through words but rather through actions and services, he had difficulties expressing his affection with words.

Like when it took him a year to say ‘I love you’ yet everyday after he came home from an exhausting day at work, he’d pull your feet into his lap and massage them in hopes of offering you some kind of relief.

Or when the topic of wedding vows came up and he said he finds them useless yet he’d buy you a fresh set of bouquets every week until down to the very week you broke up.

Or when he’d place a glass of water on your nightstand everyday when he left for work, whether he fucked the shit out of you the night before or not.

Yoongi always just showed you.

And now that he’s balls deep in your pussy, now that the effects of that pill are clouding your mind, now that his proximity is distorting your mind and setting all your nerve-endings alight again, you have to consciously stop yourself from asking him to come back home—back to you.

Your mind is so distorted that you don’t even recall the bad moments or the reason for your break up right now. You just miss him.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers in your ear, thrusting his hips into you at a considerably slower pace but by no means lacking in strength and passion.

“Like I’m fucking floating on a cloud,” you mumble back, body almost falling limp at his proximity and his dick rubbing your walls so deliciously.

He simply chuckles, “That’s what I like to hear.”

He continues to fuck into you, occasionally groaning and fondling your breast. “Fuck,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to the back of your neck.

“Yoongi, I–”

“I know.”

You don’t even know.

You don’t even know what you were going to say.

But his confident ‘I know’ proves to you that he knows.

Thanks to his slow pace, it takes your orgasm a little longer to approach and thank fuck for that.

“I’m gonna cum soon,” he tells you, rubbing your tummy from the back. “Where do you want it?”

“I don’t care where you cum as long as you kiss me during it.”

Damn. Why the fuck would you say that?

Great. He just abruptly stopped thrusting. You’re such a fucking idiot.

You would have never been able to admit this if you didn’t take that stupid pill or even if you weren’t facing him with your back.

He swiftly pulls out and wraps his fingers around your bicep to turn you around, making you face him now. Still in spooning position but this time facing each other, he pulls you close, lifting your leg onto his hip as he guides his dick back into you and propping your head up on his bicep.

His hand finds its way back to your asscheek and squeezes the soft skin in his rough hand as he pulls you even closer, pressing your chest right into his.

“Cum with me, baby. You’re doing so good.”

He’s so mean for doing this. So mean for the things he says, so mean for fucking you exactly as you like it, so mean for making you feel like you still belong to him. Like he belongs to you.

He thrusts his hips into you faster and sure enough, the effects of the pill get to work because your stomach starts twisting from the inside immediately after the change of pace and his request of cumming together.

Your fucked out eyes meet his determined ones, staring into those black bottomless pits of his as he chases his own release.

He simply stares back, eyes occasionally dropping to your lips. In this moment, his eyes are everywhere you look, his breath hits every inch of your skin, his hand on your hip holds you so tightly that you think be might crack your hipbone. He’s inside your head. He’s everywhere. He’s everything.

It seems like he wants to say something but his attention gets disrupted by the sound of something buzzing on the nightstand behind you.

It’s his phone.

He tears his eyes away from yours, reaching for it whilst still being inside of you and by the guilty look on his face, it doesn’t take a genius to decipher it must be someone whose arms and bed he found comfort in after separating from you.

When he thinks you must’ve realized, he tosses his phone off the bed and returns his attention to you.

But he doesn’t owe you anything. Not an explanation. Not an apology. Not even love.

It’s quiet for a few moments, just your occasional soft moaning and his heavy breathing as you close your eyes to avoid his gaze.

Until you crack your eyelids open again and find out he’s been staring at you the entire time. Your walls tightly clench around him again, indicating your orgasm is close. “Just call me your girl again,” you whisper, allowing the vulnerability to escape your system once again.

Dumb bitch.

“You are. You are my girl,” is all he says before pressing his lips against yours as promised, grabbing a handful of your asscheek as he snaps his hips into yours and forces his tongue into your mouth.

You let his tongue force itself past your swollen lips, crying into his mouth as another orgasm sends electricity down all your limbs, making your brain explode with ridiculous amounts of dopamine and launching you straight to your Utopia.

You murmur some shit into his mouth that even you don’t understand, voice coming and going whenever it pleases, more and more slick gushing out of your completely drenched pussy. Tears continue to escape and roll down your temples, your nose is runny, your voice is hoarse.

A soft moan resounds in Yoongi’s throat when his own orgasm hits him, thrusts getting inconsistent and rough as he starts painting your walls with his warm cum, groaning loudly into your mouth which you happily welcome.

This is otherworldly.

Nothing will ever feel like this moment right here and you’re not sure whether you’ve accepted that yet.

He fucks both of you through your orgasms, pumping his load into you like it belongs inside of you and fuck, have you missed the feeling.

With a few more sloppy thrusts, creating a mess everywhere, his thrusting comes to a halt yet he never stops kissing you.

He curls his arm so your head shifts on his bicep even closer towards his face, keeping his dick buried in you, eliciting a simple sigh in content from the ex-girlfriend in his arms.

After an extra few minutes of nonstop making out with a man that was once yours, you’re the one that pulls away. Your stomach clenches with something you can’t describe when you watch him still chase your lips until he realizes you’ve pulled away, making him slowly open his eyes.

Is it guilt? Is it desire? Is it regret?

Fuck. Fuck. This whole idea just wasn’t smart.

You did your best to rid yourself of the stain he planted on you, closing the mark where he sunk his fangs so deeply into your skin, into your soul. You’re letting him reopen it and you’re so damn fucking stupid for it.

And you don’t understand why he’s the only one you want. No one else.

He stares at you for a moment before pressing his forehead against yours, still trying to catch his breath.

You stay unmoved for a few more moments before he delicately pecks your lips again and gently pulls his softening dick out of you, your nose scrunching when his load starts to leak out of you and onto your sheets.

He doesn’t say much else as he gets up from your bed, eyes searching the floor for something before he hunches over and slides his boxers back up his legs.

He leaves your bedroom without another word, making you simply frown at the ceiling but he quickly reappears with a glass of water and a damp towel.

He hasn’t changed a bit.

He takes care of you like nothing’s changed, cleaning your body up, changing the sheets while you don’t move a muscle, tucking you under the fresh covers and making sure you drink your water before opening the windows in an attempt to get some fresh air after you’ve fogged up the windows in the room.

He sits at the edge of your bed, gently tracing your hairline with the tip of his finger. “How are you feeling?”

If only he knew.

Your mouth slightly curls at the corners, a lazy smile plastered on your lips. “I feel amazing.”

Another sultry chuckle leaves his mouth as he nods his head in agreement.

This is nice.

But your mind changes when you silently watch him rising to his feet and slowly reaching for his clothes.

Ugh.

You’ve been vulnerable enough.

You asked him to come do one thing and he did it. You can’t ask much more of him.

But your heart works faster than your brain.

“Can you stay the night?” you quietly ask, fidgeting with your fingers under the sheets, relieved that he can’t see.

He glances at you over his shoulder, a frown on his brows. It seems like he thinks about it for a moment before parting pretty his lips to say, “What?”

Fuck.

Your voice goes even quieter, thinking of a way to reformulate the question. “Do you want to stay the night?”

He idly blinks at you, eyes staring straight into your soul as if you just asked him the most absurd question that you could’ve asked him. “Do you want me to?”

The neutral tone of his voice simply makes you shrug your shoulders in response, avoiding his intense gaze that always makes you feel like no one else exists in his mind but you.

Stupid.

“Y/N,” says Yoongi, quietly. Your eyes twinkle up at him, the clear look of a dilemma plastered on your face. He closes the distance between you two, hovering over your body before repeating his question with a bit more bluntness. “Do you want me to?”

Your swollen bottom lip is trapped between your teeth, veins pumping with anxiety and anticipation.

You sniffle a bit in hopes that it makes the tension and silence less awkward. “Yeah.”

Your eyes trail his features, remembering how gorgeous he actually is. How could you ever forget? His thick brows, his sharp eyes, his plump lips, his soft nose, his beautiful hair.

The next few words that leave his mouth rip you right out of your thoughts.

“Then I’ll stay,” he pauses, “for however long you want me to.”

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⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

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[hyp3rfixation-h3ll]

great post bestie !!! too bad you made it in the vicinity of someone whos is completely DERANGED about 2 of the characters you're talking about here. CRACKS KNUCKLES.

its not JUST about this either (though you DID hit the nail on the head), it's about ALL of them being utterly fucking SCARED. they've never actually Properly Met besides when Pac went to the past, so can you imagine THE EXPECTATIONS they're all holding themselves to ? the PRESSURE is ON them, all 3 of them.

Pac doesn't want to disappoint his own folks with the person HE is, and neither do THEY wanna let HIM down because he's heard SO much about them, and what if... they're just.. not what he expected them to be?

And not only that, but it's been YEARS. over a DECADE (at LEAST 16 years if you're like me and tried to do the math years ago with a friend on amino using headcanons <3).. They've changed. All of them have. Especially if we're going with the theory that Sunny and Zac are being held captive by the Pointyheads. When they finally stop to reflect, at least one of them is going to be anxious because what if they're no longer recognisable from the people they were? What if they're not believed? What if everyone they knew and loved turned their back on them because they changed too much? (I choose to believe this is sunny btw. Zac is the voice of reason, but honestly he's equally as anxious.)

They're traumatised, they're scared, they probably look and act a little different,

and then they're thrust into a situation that honestly doesn't fucking seem real.

And it is.

And the three of them can all finally rest. and put their guards down. and cry, and embrace each other for the first time. for the first actual time.

They have a lot of catching up to do. But i dont think they mind one bit.

If I may ask

What’s your approach on pac finally meeting his folks

For me,I feel like there’s gonna be a lot of tears…

Oh, definitely tears! If there are no tears then I'd be suspicious 😂

Man. Pac's reunion with his parents. That's a scene that I think we've all been waiting and hoping for.

The entire show gave it so much build-up and anticipation, it's such a disappointment that we didn't get to see it happen (for real) before the show stopped.

My approach would be to follow through on that build-up and write a reunion that gives it justice. Give it a deep and emotional impact, not too light-hearted but not too sappy either, at least not in a way that strips the scene of its believability and impact.

There are so many ways I could approach their reunion. So much so that I'll be open to changes and tweaks in order to polish it as much as possible. But if I ever get to a point of opportunity, then this is how I imagine it to go...

For his whole life, Pac has long hoped to one day be together with his parents again. The mystery behind their disappearance has haunted him for as long as he could remember. While he never got closure on WHY they vanished, he inevitably got to a point where he's accepted that they are gone and won't return. Essentially, he lost hope. But his world was thrown upside down when he found out that they could in fact still be alive, and may be held prisoner on an alien world.

Since then, his hope has been rekindled...but it almost got snuffed out by the clones-incident. Try to be in Pac's shoes; for a long time he's never gotten closure on his parents' disappearance and believed that they were dead, then he was told that they're actually still alive, and then out of the blue they 'return' and Pac felt the happiest he's ever been...until his hope was brutally crushed when it was revealed that his 'parents' were just Dr B's clones meant to fool him into jeopardising the Tree of Life.

I'd imagine that Pac got trust issues out of the incident. Not in terms of trusting people, but by putting his trust in 'hope,' because all that hope has gotten him was deception and a broken heart.

And because of this, when the time came for Pac to truly reunite with his parents... he was terrified.

He was scared over the possibility of it just being another stunt, another case of false hope. He may even think it was just a dream, or a nightmare in the making, because he was too scared to allow himself the liberty to believe that he finally had his family back.

In many ways, the same can be said for Zac and Sunny. Two souls who have been isolated from their kind for unprecedented years, enduring who-knows-what horrors in their time as prisoners on Pointyhead Planet, wanting nothing more than to be back home with their son.

So, for both sides, it's a moment of truth...

But as soon as the first step was made, when the first hug was embraced, all of their doubts and fears sizzled away.

When Pac was in their arms, letting it all sink in, tears streamed down his face.

And for the first time in a long time, he no longer had false hope.

He had his family.

[3fingersofscotch]

Like a Party Favor 2

Like a Party Favor Chapter 2

Pairing: M/M/M/M/F Sylus x Zayne x Rafayel x Xavier x Afab Reader

Summary: In what scenario does MC get passed around like a party favor? This one!

WARNINGS: 18+ mdni!! GANGBANG, word porn with just enough plot to make your brain happy, double penetration, vaginal and anal sex, rough face fucking, rough cunniligus, creampies, tons of cum, like... tons, reverse harem, butt plugs, multiple partners, multiple positions, actual funny parts, gratuitous self pleasing smut.

Author's note: Chapter 2 pairings! Rafayel/Reader, Zayne/Reader

I started writing this back in August, so obviously some new cards have come out to spoil a couple of things. There is one chapter where Zayne is enjoying a martini. We know know he doesn't drink. Give me a break. This is a WIP. I'm trying to figure out how to fit Caleb in there somewhere.

Ao3- 3fingers_of_scotch

Chapter 1

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I do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated anywhere.

Sylus’ front door is so fucking far away and it already feels like you can’t breathe. Your chest hurts and tears sting your eyes. Not like this. You didn’t want them to find out like this.

You didn’t want them to find out at all if you were honest with yourself.

Your hands grasp at the door handle as it appears in front of you and you are ready to bolt out the door and into the unknown when Sylus’ evol slams the door shut in front of you and you know your escape is nothing but an empty dream.

One can’t simply break a panic attack through sheer force of will and you find yourself collapsing, unable to breathe despite the gentle reassurance you receive from the men who chased after you. It hurts. Your chest burns as you hyperventilate. You quietly curse Sylus for forcing things to come to a head while simultaneously reprimanding yourself for expecting anything better.

Your life deserves to implode like a dying star, because you are the one that is in the wrong here. You don’t have the right to be mad at him or the others.

If you want to save a shred of dignity, you have to face them and apologize. Collapsed on the floor, you have no idea how you are going to make that happen.

It is Zayne that kneels on the floor beside you, gesturing at the other men to give you space and they reluctantly comply because he is the doctor after all. “You are safe,” He reassures, taking loud, rhythmic deep breaths and you follow, in through your mouth and out through your nose, even as the sobs that break out of your body cause you to quake in his presence. You are snot, and tears and fear and anxiety…

But in a rare moment, he is warm and reassuring and his hand traces patterns on your back as he keeps his distance. He did this after he made love to you too and you feel sick and reassured at the same time.

Its probably 5 minutes before the sobs reduce from body shaking to quiet sniffling and the hand stops tracing patterns on your back so that Zayne can pull your reluctant body closer to wipe away your tears. He has tissues, and the snot you are certain has ruin your face gets wiped away. You can’t even breathe through your nostrils.

“Good,” he says, giving you more reassurance than you deserve. “When you are ready, we can talk.” You think for a moment that he will give you space, but he knows better and he takes your hand in his.

You wait and you wait, but you know that everyone else is willing to wait longer and you sigh, resigning yourself to your fate. When you rise, Zayne gently guides you back to the room where 3 more men look contrite and it confuses you. You are the one who did wrong, so why are they the ones that are sorry?

Its very clear no one knows were to start. Sylus was an action man, and that’s how everyone made it to his compound. But as everyone exchanged looks, it seemed no one had the gumption to take the lead.

It felt awkward and you need to break the silence. “I’m so sorry,” you blurt out and all at once, everyone is confused.

“There seems to be a misunderstanding,” Zayne says, his hand still grasping yours as his thumb rubs small, gentle circles on the back of your hand.

“It seems… we owe you an explanation.” Oddly, its Rafayel who speaks up. “We’ve all been hiding things from you and its time we fess up.”

Xavier looks the most nervous. You’ve never seen that look on his face before. “They are coming for you. We are running out of time.”

You nod. Xavier has explained Philos to you before. They are coming for your core. But you look around the room. Why is it the others seem to understand?

“It took all of us gathering to finally piece it together,” Sylus laughs, but its not one filled with mirth. Instead, its ominous and it fills you with a sense of deep dread.

“I started everything several lifetimes ago. I see it in my dreams. I gave you the Aether Core to save your life and instead, I doom you to be reincarnated over and over, only to have your core harvested to save Philos.” Zayne casts his eyes aside, still carrying the weight and shame of his weakness, even though what happened occurred several lifetimes ago.

“They find you in all your lifetimes,” Rafayel states. “They take your life to extend their own. Greedy bastards.”

“The people in Philos don’t die because of you. They should. They don’t deserve to live,” Xavier whispers. “I don’t deserve to live.”

“They’ve forced you to take my protocore in some of my past lives, as if your Aether Core is not enough,” Rafayel states.

You eyeball Sylus who hasn’t spoken. “I’m just like you.” Sylus leans forward in calm contemplation. “Again and again, I come into this world and they try and take my Aether Core. Only difference is I remember. I fight back. We aren’t supposed to exist in the same timeline.”

“Why don’t I remember?” You ask. You trust these men with everything you have, but that doesn’t mean you don’t resent them for their ability to recall their past lives.

“Dun know,” Rafayel says nonchalantly.

“And how did you find each other?” You ask. ‘And do you know I’ve slept with all of you?’ You think, but can’t ask out loud.

Sylus’ smile is deviant. “I… may have tried to eliminate them all one-by-one when I found out they touched you.”

“You what?” You put together the pieces slowly. They all appeared to be injured at around the same time, you recall. But it was around the time your childhood home blew up and you lost your grandmother and Caleb and you were too lost in your thoughts to really dissect what was going on in their lives.

“Its behind us now, kitten. Besides, I quickly realized that if you were surrounded by men that could hold their own against me, it was simply not a coincidence… and it could lead to both of our salvations.”

“We think that separating your Aether Cores safely from your souls will prevent you from reincarnating again with the Aether Core,” Xavier theorizes.

“But you need to live long enough for us to figure out how to do that,” Zayne says, thumb still caressing the hand he never let go of.

“The more intimate we’ve become, the stronger we resonate. The five of us have never existed in the same timeline before. I believe if we can increase your ability to resonate with all of us, we will have a strong chance at staying alive until we can remove our Aether Cores,” Sylus summarizes.

The others are silent as you digest everything you were told. “And you aren’t mad at me?”

Rafayel’s smile is both warm and sad at the same time. “We’ve loved you in multiple lifetimes. Its not your fault that suddenly we all appeared at once.”

“I’m mad,” Sylus growls from the corner, arms crossed against his chest. “But this is all news to me and I’m choosing the lesser of two evils… to fight for you now so I don’t have to lose you later. And if I have to share you with your star-crossed lovers to make that happen, a little bit of you is better than nothing.”

You find this deeply saddening. You silently pray that whatever you can accomplish in this lifetime prevents their heartache in the next. You sit down, sinking into the couch as the weight of the conversation buries you.

“So… what next?” You ask. They didn’t exactly lay out a plan.

Rafayel closes the gap and his lips find yours. Your cheeks grow hot. You know the others know, but you aren’t ready for them to actually see you be intimate with any of them.

Sylus’ evol pushes Rafayel away from you and you breath a sigh of relief.

“Hey! I will feed you to my fishies if you try that again!” Rafayel shouts. “Bitch,” he adds, muttering under his breath.

You’d laugh if you weren’t completely overwhelmed.

“This can be discussed without it devolving into a shouting match,” Zayne announces as he drags you to a private room where a bag full of medical equipment lying on a bed is waiting. He pulls out testing equipment and asks for your finger, pricking it for a blood sample.

“I still don’t understand what is going on,” you plead.

“You heard Sylus,” Zayne eyeballs the test results from your finger prick. “Your resonance grows when you become more intimate with someone.”

“You don’t mean—"

“Congratulations, you are currently clean. No STDs.” Zayne shows you the happy face on the blood scanner. “I’ve tested everyone. Nothing will be passed around, if that’s what concerns you.”

“That isn’t the part that concerns me!” You shout. You simply couldn’t; after carrying around this guilt for weeks, you can’t stand the idea that they all know about each other.

Zayne’s hazel eyes are gentle. “No one here can make you do something you don’t want to do. We were talking about it before you woke up. You decide what happens here, and if that means that we all go our separate ways, then that is what we will do.” His hands take yours and you stare at his grasp, unable to hold his gaze.

“But darling… I implore you. If it means we could save your life, let us do what needs to be done?” You glance at his face and he almost looks weak. His love for you is apparent and so is his desperation. You want him.

“I decide what happens next?” You watch Zayne nod. You want him right now. You want to forget the others are waiting on the other side of the door.

Erring on the side of caution, you place a gentle kiss on his cheek and he smiles, pulling you closer. He wants you; you can tell. The appearance of the others has not spurned him. He is solid ground, unmoving and trustworthy as you take your first steps and he centers you, just as he did when you fell apart at the front door.

“I want you,” you say and it’s all he needs to lay you on your back. You are still wearing the oversized t-shirt Sylus let you borrow. Zayne pushes the shirt up your body exposing your breasts and he takes his time squeezing both and sucking on your pert nipples. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and inhales deeply before getting to work.

His mouth is always diligent. He enjoys finding all your sensitive spots and today is no different as he uses his expert memory to nibble that spot on your neck that makes you weak and wet. He moves, stealthily slipping off your shorts and panties while you are distracted. His lips trail to devour your shoulder and you hiss, back arching and your stomach brushes against an erection you realize has been loosened from is trappings and he is already guiding himself inside of you.

“Oh Zayne!” you groan as he sinks in. You are still raw and sensitive from the night before and it just makes it feel dirtier and more delicious. You suddenly realize that Zayne has entered you without a condom and he has never done that before.

It feels more delicious, like the friction you’ve been dying for is finally itching that scratch. His lips find yours and he kisses as deeply as he fucks. He is normally a man of restraint but his strokes today are hard… unyielding even. Like there was territory to be reclaimed and purpose in unleashing himself inside you.

“I don’t like finding out second hand what a dirty girl you are,” He grunts in your ear and you tremor at the realization that this is now a competition. He has heard something from the others and he has realized that you don’t do it when you’re with him.

But he is a doctor, and he is so proper, and you’ve always tried to match his etiquette. He has been so considerate and polite.

You never thought he’d want something more deplorable than what you’d been giving him. You thought wrong, clearly as his pace increases and his deep, hard thrusts become harder and more fevered and you are screaming beneath him.

“Fuck!” You cry out. He withdraws, causing you to whimper, begging him not to stop.

“You never curse for me,” He rolls you over. Your first instinct is to get up on your knees and he enters you swiftly, but suddenly he spreads your knees and pushes your torso down towards the mattress below. You lie down and he rests his weight against you. You feel so full and so grounded when one of his hands threads through your hair and he pulls your head to the side so he can growl in your ear.

“Will my darling turn into a dirty girl for me? Will I hear her curse some more?” His breath is hot and he nibbles on your ear as he resumes his thrusting, hand still tightly wound in your hair. His tongue is trailing with firm pressure around you ear and down your jawline and the pressure is building rapidly between your legs as you curse, repeatedly into the sheets below you.

“Fuck! Zayne, oh, FUCK! Oh, FUCK!”

It’s exactly what he wants to hear and he purrs in your ear. “That’s it, baby!” He coaxes more sounds from your mouth when he bites your neck with more force than usual. You wonder if it is because he wants the others to see it and know that it was his handiwork.

You are about to cum, you can feel it building swiftly and you try to warn him, but the way he is pounding you doesn’t leave enough room for words and you tighten around his cock, eliciting delicious moans right into your ear.

“Is my pretty baby being good and taking her birth control?” He asks and you get excited because he is ready to blow his load.

“Yes! Fuck, I’m a good girl!” Your pussy is still throbbing as your orgasm racks your body.

“Good,” He groans through gritted teeth and you feel his cock expand inside you, pulsing as you feel it pump the cum you desire deep within you. He grunts and his body shakes as pushes his hips harder against yours, determined for you to receive every last drop of his desire.

This room has an en-suite bathroom and you feel incredibly grateful that for a few extra moments, you can calm down, clean yourself up and collect yourself before facing everyone waiting for you outside. Zayne cleans himself up too and treats you as if nothing has changed and it’s incredibly reassuring.

He pulls you close and kisses you gently. It looks like he might have something to say when your stomach growls loudly.

“We should find something for you to eat,” he says, already pulling you out the room before you can protest.

Xavier and Rafayel have already made friends with Sylus’ chef and breakfast is prepared. Breakfast? You are exhausted. It feels like you’ve been awake for 24 hours and are running on pure adrenaline, but sure enough, it is still breakfast time. You know that they know what just happened in that room and you can’t look up from the eggs and sausage in front of you.

Despite being absolutely famished, you play with your food as Zayne asks where Sylus is.

“Out,” You hear Xavier say. No one knows where. The guys give you an appropriate amount of space all of the sudden, separating into rooms you guess they must have picked out for themselves when they arrived. You finally finish your breakfast and get ready for the day.

You are having a hard time deciding what to wear. You aren’t sure to what extent the guys are willing to go to achieve what they came here for. The fleeting thought occurs that it would be more effective, not to wear anything at all.

‘This isn’t an all-day fuck-fest,’ you think to yourself and do your best to make yourself presentable. You decide that you want to look good, if not for them, then to at least make yourself feel better. You diligently apply your make up, style your hair and put on a cute pink dress that Xavier once said makes you look like a delicate porcelain doll.

Your phone is fully charged. You ignore the texts from Tara and work. Its impossible to feel guilty about it after what has transpired.

You open the chat app and click Sylus’ avatar.

-Where are you?-

Sylus -Out running a very important errand-

-hurry back, soon-

He responds with a thumbs up emoji and you stare at it for a moment. You aren’t sure what to do next. Your body feels too used to get a bit of exercise in. You’ve eaten. You don’t feel like doom-scrolling on your phone, because honestly, what the fuck is happening today?

You gather the courage to exit your room—no. This is Sylus’ room. You are only in it because that is where your clothes are.

You wander to the theater room that you’ve never gone to by yourself because you haven’t been able to figure out how to turn on the projector. You wish Sylus was here.

You play with the equipment and the buttons don’t respond when you press them.

“You’ve got to turn this switch on for the equipment,” Rafayel is leaning against the doorway, pointing at a switch just under eye-level before flipping it on.

You can hear the projector hum quietly after you press the power button and you mumble a thanks to Rafayel.

“So, what are we watching?” He plops down on the big, comfy couch, waiting for you to sit next to him.

“A horror film about a haunted village,” you answer, hesitantly take a seat next to him. You still haven’t forgotten the boldness of the kiss earlier and you know he is fearless enough to do it again where everyone can see you. He is a man with the boldness of the God of the Sea.

And he is bold still as you feel his arm snake around you, pulling you close so that he can inhale your scent.

“You’ve wounded me greatly,” He murmurs and you hang your head.

“I know… I know,” you say and the tears begin to form. He was the first man you’d sampled during your emotional turmoil. He’d revealed so much of himself. His history, his race, your love story together, and when he took you to bed the love you felt was so intense, the rest of the world did not matter. At the time, you were so certain no other man would ever come between you and him.

But eventually, you had to go home. And waiting at your door was a concerned Xavier with cheap, delicious takeout and milk tea. One minute you were eating and chatting harmlessly and the next minute Xavier’s lips met yours and it was game over. He fucked you, and he fucked you and he fucked you some more. Even worse is that you let him. He was just one floor and a text message away when you couldn’t sleep. Sleep wouldn’t claim you until your pussy felt raw with abuse. You’d get home and see something that would remind you of Caleb or Grandma and suddenly, it was your place or his and you’ve never seen Xavier more awake in your life.

Then, you’d think of Rafayel and your heart would break. You couldn’t face him after what you’d done.

“I know the reason why. It doesn’t matter.” Rafayel’s lips hover over your ear as he squeezes you tight. “What hurt the most is the time we missed. I wanted to see you so badly. Don’t do that to me again.”

You nod. You’ll never do that again. Rafayel deserved all the love you could give him and more. He deserved a love that transcended time and space. He nuzzles you delicately, humming pleasantly as he buries his nose somewhere near your collar bone.

“I’m guessing you want to make it up to me somehow,” His smile is suggestive and beautiful and you absolutely do.

“Tell me how I can make it up to you?” You ask. You lean in to meet his lips and his response to your touch is searing. You just want him to know that you love him. You’ll do anything so that he knows.

“You look so cute in this dress,” he remarks. “I want to watch you cum while wearing it.”

Fuck. You were worried a moment ago that he wouldn’t be able to control himself, but you were the one unbuttoning his pants in a common room anyone could walk in. You kneel on the ground pulling his cock out to sample with your tongue.

He’s as salty as the ocean and his ears and nose burn bright read as he watches you. His rosy irises darken when you take the head of his cock in your mouth and swirl it around your tongue. He hisses as you descend slowly, tongue trailing patterns up and down his cock until its sopping wet and you can see the blush burning down his neck.

He is flush and hot. His body always responds like this to you.

“What—” he can’t breathe. “What are you waiting for? I said I wanted to watch you cum.”

Oh, dear lord. You rise from your knees and as you do, your thumbs tuck into the waistband of your panties. Rafayel catches on and quickly pulls his pants and boxers off. His weeping erection is leaking pre-cum on his shirt, but the only thing he is paying attention to is you as you climb into his lap, hovering over his erection.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs as he guides his erection, pushing the head past your lips and you slide down, grinding against his hips. His hands grasp your thighs so tightly, you realize he’s holding you in place, soaking in your warmth and tightness so he can adjust. You grab the back of the couch just past his shoulders and ready yourself for when he lets go.

As soon as his grip release your thighs, you move, gyrating on his cock and you watch as he throws his head backwards into the cushions. He is still so red, so breath-takingly beautiful underneath you, mouth open and eyes half shut.

His cock slides past your folds deliciously and you know your mouth is hanging open in a similar fashion as your cry out wordlessly. Your lips drift together and apart repeatedly as you cry out and it only increases tenfold when his hand slides under your dress to massage your clit and you rock back and forth in a desperate attempt to bring him to completion before he can finish you off with his fingers.

“You are pink,” he says before biting his lip. “A lovely rosy hue I can only see in my dreams when you ride me. I want to capture this moment forever.”

The moan that escapes your lips is rich and guttural and you cry out loud when suddenly, his hands grasp your hips firmly and he thrust aggressively up into you.

“Rafayel!”

“Call me your husband!” he pleads. Its beautiful and sweet and you want to be his bride once more.

“Yes! Husband! My love!” He is shaking, as a tear trickles down his cheek. His hips meet yours with extra force and you come undone, writhing on his cock and whimpering so sweetly. He studies your face carefully. He wants to be able to recall this moment in another 800 years if need be.

You feel hot in your pretty pink dress and sweat is dripping down your neck. He tastes the salt on your collar bone and shudders.

“My beautiful bride,” he whispers and you feel it.

His cum is always explosive. He clamps down on your waist and pulls you down into him with all his might as he squeezes his eyes shut. His body rolls in waves against his will as he empties himself. You feel his cum dripping down your thighs and onto his lap and he is still coming. The throbbing is in tune with the rumbling of his body and you revel in each gush you feel rushing against your cervix.

“Husband,” you whisper in his ear and he shivers with delight.

“God, I love you!” He moans, pulling you against his chest. You breathe each other in, fingers tracing the bare skin you can reach on each other’s bodies and his cock softens and slips out naturally. You don’t want to move.

Suddenly you remember that the two of you are not alone in this house and your blush burns bright once more.

“-s okay, beautiful. I love you.” Rafayel’s smile is brilliant. He uses his boxers to wipe you down before cleaning himself up. “We don’t need to have everything figured out yet. I’m just glad that I have you right now.”

A/N: Rafayel would totally call Sylus a bitch.😏

[mrsdickey]

shitty sketch and a yap sesh

feel free to skip. i usually dont rant abt things, but when i do, i get kind of uppity about it. it is long, i just wanna get my feelings out yk. im probably gonna b taking a small break, as a result of my uncomfort on the internet right now and i just. dont know what to draw lol.

ok cracks knuckles loudly ahemmmm

im feeling uncomfortable,

sorry if i seem irrational in this. i just want to be heard.

i dont really know how to word this properly, but sometimes i feel like the love for these characters is a fucking competition.

i hate the idea that people will be like "**I** am bill/pete/jerry/josh's #1 fan!!!!!! nobody else!!!!" im sorry, it just pushes me away from the fandom. and to see people worrying about having to be shit on for having female OC's in the club really pisses me off. gatekeeping isn't it.

i know every fandom is like this. its annoying as hell and i know better to just not post my feelings like this, and to just ignore them, but it makes me hellllllla uncomfortable. it makes me wanna hide.

im genuinely so attached to bill that it's really fucking with me. he's my main comfort, as ridiculous as it sounds. im very mentally ill and lonely, and bill is kind of my "escape" from my stressful life. sometimes it makes me cry, to see myself implode like the fucking titan sub all for a goddamn fictional character. all i think about is him, it's like a fucking parasite eating at my already fucking rotten brain. work? bill. home? bill. hanging with my family? bill. literally everything else? bill. and seeing people wanting to assert themselves as the MAIN fan of that character just gives me the fucking ick. as much as i looooove bill to the point of literal crying fits, im never gonna call myself his biggest fan. (sometimes i call myself his fave but that's more of an in-universe headcanon thing rather than a "he loves ME more!!" thing shhhhb)

anyways, i dont want the love and appreciation for these characters to be a competition. but i have the feeling that it is. and it makes me really sad. this isn't what dorkin wanted.

i know i always stress "no doubles" when it comes to my selfshipping with bill. and i still do...but its kinda ridiculous to assert yourself as THEE #1 fan of a character, and then shoving it into peoples' faces. it feels gross.

i hate hate hate hate hateeee posting about this kind of shit, i wanna keep my account positive, but i genuinely feel like i needed to air out my negative feelings for once in my fucking life.

i am sorry if this is problematic and aggressive. i have strong feelings about these sorts of things. i know none of this matters in real life to some people. but in my boring, lonely ass life, it does matter to me. a whole fucking lot.

i really, REALLY love the eltingville club. but sometimes i feel like its own fandom is what it's criticizing. that's not to say **everyone** in this fandom is like this, i KNOW not all of us are like this. and i really appreciate the people calling this shit out.

with that, i hope i can still continue to post about the eltingville club and not worry about being unworthy.

and to my small circle regulars, who like even my yumeship posts, thank you. i really appreciate you guys. and im sorry if i dont interact with you guys as much as i should.

anyways erm!! i might delete this, but for now, im probably gonna hide for a bit gaahaha you can find me on discord sob

""i aint reading allat sorry that happened or congratulations"" headass lmao

[f1amboyant]

Babe you didn’t even have to mention it.

EXPLAIN THIS CARCAR AU

(Please)

Hi, babe 🧡 I should have known this one would interest you 🤭

Okay, okay, let me explain this TP!Carlos x driver!Oscar 🧡 (it's driving me absolutely crazy, btw)

So. Somewhere along the timeline, Carlos stops racing and gets into engineering and he is damn good at it. He definitely gots the brain for it and if he can't race (because he's too soft on the track), he definitely can get behind the scenes. He is so goddamn good at it that he becomes the youngest team principal at McLaren. He is so so very good but also, he gets into that position at the worst moment. The team is at its lowest, they have to start over basically. Also, all eyes are on him because no one truly believes he can do a good job (he is so young) and does he really deserve to be there (maybe his dad bought that job for him). So there's a loooooooot of pressure but Carlos keeps his head down and does his job and he is good.

And then comes Oscar. Rookie, extra talented Oscar. Carlos was the one who wanted to recruit him. And here he is. And they... They clash (they collide). They are both extremely hard working and very talented but they don't seem to agree on anything. Oscar isn't afraid to speak his mind when he thinks Carlos is wrong, and vice versa. And people around (in the team, in the paddock, in the media) thinks they are going implode, that something bad is going to happen, that they are going to ruin all the efforts from the team to go back on top. Except. Except they actually work extremely well together. They clash and they bite, but they actually push each other to do better. They catch mistakes for the other that others around never realize. And so it's very tense but it actually works.

Oscar quickly develops a huge crush on Carlos (because that man is too handsome and Oscar has eyes, he's not blind, thank you very much). And he could turn shy, or flirty or something with Carlos but no. He resents that man for being too beautiful and to give him thoughts. How dare he! He can't keep thinking about him but he's not gonna do anything. That's his boss!

Carlos isn't doing much better. He probably has a competency kink. And well. Oscar is very very competent. So yeah, he would very quickly fall for him too. But there's already so much pressure on his shoulders, he's not gonna add "dating an employee" to that.

So mutual pining. Threat of forbidden relationship. All that.

One bad bad race weekend (thanks @curiousthyme for the wonderful idea), Oscar is defeated and frustrated and refusing to talk to anyone and especially to Carlos. Carlos calls him into his office to talk but Oscar refuses to talk about it. "You could do better things with your mouth," he taunts. And Carlos is so so tempted, but no. Nothing is going to happen. And Oscar is angry, it's not real, he doesn't really want it, right?

After that incident, Carlos looks even more at Oscar, looking for clues that maybe, just maybe, Oscar wants this too. And maybe they could... But no. Even if they both want it, this is not something that can happen.

Until they win. They win!! Carlos gets on the podium with Oscar, drenching him in champagne. Smiling, hugging, screaming their joy because they fucking won! And at the after party, drunk and delirious with joy from the win, Carlos kisses Oscar. And Oscar kisses him back. Bites him. They fall into bed together. They don't care anymore.

They're gonna care very much the morning after, when it's all gonna down on them. What they've done. Angst! Pining! All that jazz 🫠

What's gonna happen next, I'm still gonna have to think about it 🤭

But yeah. This is my carcar au idea 🧡

[whalesforhands]

shirtless neighbours and exercise (kaizen stroll!)

The first time you meet your neighbours outside the house, you could swear you had to rewire every neuron in your brain in hopes of it ever working again.

“Oho? Gummmiii, look who’s here!” Perched atop the broad shoulders of his snowy-haired father figure, was one of the few resident toddlers of this neighbourhood.

You would’ve been quite glad to see him, really! Such an adorable, sweet little boy with just as charming siblings with endearing traits… And not to mention the total eye candies their parents were.

“Good muscl— Morning!” Your eyes can’t seem to stop trailing down the naked upper half of his body as you sweat, nearly choking on your words and already screaming internally, praying neither of them heard your slip-up as your hand grips the grocery bag ever tighter, face starting to grow hot with embarrassment and shame.

Jeez, stop being so goddamn hor—

“(name).” He purrs back your name in a blissful greeting, smile growing on his face and words rolling off his tongue so sweetly that it almost makes your knees buckle, your eyes stuck on watching his hand going up to his head to push back some sweaty strands of white as you try to avert your eyes for politeness sake. “Out for groceries so early?”

Oh— The slight pant in his sentences evidence of a good workout, the cute kid perched atop his shoulders, his shirtless self just looking so, so hot—! Respond normally, like a normal person, just your average, run-of-the-mill reply…!

However, you don’t think your brain is even going to be able to process anything anymore. Not after this, definitely. You remember seeing stark white, radiant blue and a curious head of spiky black as your senses start to go into overdrive.

Buff, sweaty arms that rippled with power and strength. Slicked back white hair from the obviously tough work-out. A droplet of sweat rolling down a really nice, really defined abdomen that put even the washboards at home to shame, prominent V-lines leading down, down, down…!

You have to snap yourself out of it, stop being such a pervert—!

“Uhm,” He has to bite back a chuckle at the way you’ve just been staring at him like a deer caught in headlights, your face just so cute when admiring him. “Ya okay?” He obviously knows he looks good just from your blatant staring of his body and embarrassed face, the way you’ve just been unable to do nothing but blabber nonsense for the next solid few seconds.

(You’re stroking his ego, despite the strange reception.)

“Ahaha…” Your eyes blink rapidly as you almost stumble forward from forcing yourself back into reality, eyes hurriedly flicking upwards to meet with Megumi’s blue. “Y-yeah! Fine! Just great! Never been bice—Better!” You cough into your fist to clear your throat as well as fight the urge to bury yourself into the ground below you.

“How… About you both?” Good. Perfect. Perfectly normal reply. Good answer! Non-NEET like at all!

A wide grin and a veiny, muscled arm bending to show a thumbs-up as you gulp nervously. “Just got done with some workouts! Doc says Gumi here— Ow, ow! Gumi, I told ya to stop tuggin’ at my hair to get my attention!” A whining of complaint as the shirtless man pats at his son’s leg. “Daddy spent real long tryna get it pretty today!”

Another decisive tug in retaliation.

“What a mean kid I raised…!” He sniffles in mock pain when there’s another pull, patting the leg over his collarbone to signal his defeat as he shifts his weight. “Ow, ow! Okay, okay! I get it, you want your pretty sensei right?”

Ahh… Men who love their kids are so hot… Did he just call you—

“Mn.” Megumi nods his head, black hair swaying with the shift of his cute, chubby face and extending his arms out towards you from his position perched atop the tall, broad shoulders as you continue to try not to implode at the sight of his very shirtless, very sweaty father who was smiling so innocently as he starts to slowly step closer towards you.

Oh… No…

“Sorry honey,” He’s staring up at the little boy as he stands close enough before you, whiffs of strawberry and pine mixed with his sweat starting to invade your nose. “Do you mind helping me to calm him down a little? He gets really fussy, ‘specially on weekends when he can’t see yo—“

Don’t think about it, don’t think about how sexy he looks right now— don’t think about it don’t think don’t think don’t think don’t think—

You feel a warm trail of liquid drip from your nose, catching sight of a matching pair of worried blue eyes, both widened considerably as Gojo’s grin starts to fade, a hand reaching out to cup your chin with Megumi’s face looking as if he was about to cry.

“Oh— Fuck.”

——

It seems that the second time you’re invited to this estate, is to treat a nosebleed of all things…

“Too much to handle, huh?” He’s being gentle as he dabs at your bloody nose, having princess-carried you all the way back to his apartment in a fit of worry, insisting that he’ll take care of you to, ‘fix his mistake’.

(You weren’t sure if he was complimenting himself or not.)

Nonetheless, you’re still experiencing embarrassment you’ve yet to be able to live down for at least the rest of your life. Maybe it’s better to just go into hiding, become a NEET who plays Jujutsu Kaisen all day, max out that INT stat on your character, buy another gift card to top up on more Cursed Points to roll that new clothing gacha—

Ah, who are you kidding? You’d rather just die in a ditch somewhere right now as the Gojo Satoru, father to many of your beloved children, extremely tall, and stupidly charming hunk of a man dabbing blood and snot out of your nose because you lost control of your mind after seeing him sweaty and shirtless.

This is definitely some sort of loser path you would’ve accidentally stumbled into if you were in a dating sim visual novel! Ahh… Whatever god is up there, please don’t be so cruel to you anymore…!

Maybe that was how you ended up on his sofa, one of his kids in your lap and him right next to you, settled comfortably on his sofa as a kiddy anime plays, simply living through the motions. It’s not like you haven’t tried asking to leave.

Your mouth is open as Megumi spoons another scoop of pudding into your mouth, sat comfortably upon your lap as he watches you intently to make sure you’re eating every bite well.

He’s scrutinizing your every movement, blue eyes practically drilling in on your mouth as you start to sweat out of nervousness, making it a point to exaggerate your chewing actions well to sate him.

“Does Daddy get any bites, Gumi?” Said man’s arm rested upon the back of the sofa, brushing against your back and almost looking like it was wrapped around your shoulders. Almost.

(At least he’s got a shirt on…)

“No.” A curt, straight-to-the-point and outright rejection, another spoonful getting carefully pushed up towards your lips as he uses the entirety of his smaller body to shield the precious pudding away from that hungry monster.

“You,” He points the spoon almost menacingly towards the much too big man, blue eyes narrowing behind spiky strands that obscure his face. “Eat too much.”

“Ahhh! So mean!” Said little boy was now being lifted out of your lap, much larger hands lifting him up by his underarms and out of reach from you as he’s held up to the light.

“Even Daddy gets hurt if you don’t feed him! What if I starve to death?!” He’s pouting up at his literal child, the toddler giving him a blank stare despite the vulnerable, adorable position he’s been put in. Even with his puppy-print themed socks hanging midair, the seriousness in his eyes reflecting it all.

“Then di—“

“Is it heavy, Nanako? Papa can carry it—“ The door to the Gojo-Geto estate opens with a chime, waddling twin making her way in, a tin of cocoa mix in her hands as she settles it upon the genkan floor.

“I got it, Papa!” She flexes her arm, patting the soft flesh there. “Nanako’s strong!” She’s gonna be just like her parents, afterall! No time for slacking when it could be used for muscle building!

“Daddy! Gumi! Papa and I are backkkkk!”

She starts to kick off her green sneakers, excited to be able to watch that new anime she’s been waiting for all week, humming as she hears the reusable grocery bags being placed down behind her, eyes catching sight of an unfamiliar pair of shoes.

(And a very familiar scent lingering about.)

No way…! Today, too?! It’s with a squeal that she takes off, shoes flying off and onto the carpeted genkan, leaving a confused Suguru in its wake.

“Nanako! Be careful!”

She bursts into the room with glimmering eyes, grin stretching wide across her cheeks as she practically lunges towards you.

“(NAME)-SENSEI!” You catch her midair, meeting her halfway as you feel her practically throw you back against the couch with her weight, her entire body a force to be reckoned with as you try to hide your gasp of pain at how much her exhilarating acceleration had caused the much too painful impact.

And soon, you had Megumi plopped onto you as well once he had forced his way out of a certain someone’s hold, crawling towards you as a defeated Gojo Satoru played ‘dead’ on the couch, having been defeated by his very own son.

“(name)-senseiiiiiiii~,” She’s whining into your lap, blonde strands rubbing against the fabric of your clothing and her face buried into your chest, squeezing in next to Megumi as they both look up at you with shiny, begging eyes. “Since you’re already hereeee!”

“Stay for dinner again!”

masterlist (this fic is part of my kaizen daycare! series)

Notes:

Due to the new transfer of Itadori Yuuji and Kugisaki Nobara, Megumi has been eating a lot more snacks than usual. His doctor has advised him to take more walks. This has ended up with Gojo Satoru bringing him along when he goes for a jog.

Just like her Daddy, Nanako has developed an oddly strong sense of smell.

Tsumiki takes ballet lessons whilst Mimiko goes for a plushie making seminars for toddlers on weekends.

Once, Megumi offered his Daddy a bite of his pizza bun. He experienced the betrayal of Gojo Satoru’s ‘one bite’ trick.

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t, sensei.” It’s Geto Suguru that’s leaning against the doorframe, cocoa tin tucked under his arm as grocery bags decorate his fingers. “I would appreciate your expertise in cooking again.”

“I second it!” Gojo Satoru is already up and about, foregoing the ‘playing dead’ farce to be a part of this conversation.

“Daddy, Gumi said you’re a liar and a cheat for not playing all the way through!”

“E-eh? I can’t even revive myself momentarily to reply?!”

[queeriouslyollie]

ACTUAL BRAINWORMS AHEAD ABOUT TROY

i like actually have SO many thoughts about troy yall dont understand. i have so much to say that i dont remember ANY OF IT TO PUT HERE.

its also been to the point that like. its all i think about. its so bad rn too bc i ran outta both my antidepressants and adhd meds (fuck pharmacies theyre all a pain in the ass omg) and so my brain is this mushy slurry of just. troy troy troy wonderlust runt troy troy blink troy. i literally could not focus at work today i had to write in my journal so that i didn't implode.

anyways after this point there are spoilers so dont read on. i woulda tagged it but this post is gonna be so rambly and full of my brainworms that i dont know if i wanna tag this at all lmao. so anyways yeah brainrot brainworms warning if you read ahead,

so yeah i have some like ideas on what troys whole deal is (besides being our [recovering :3] asshole nepo baby).

like first of all, 100% trans coded (like all of charlies characters, like wtf how is this cis guy better at being trans than i am??). please let it be canon i am begging

second, im torn between the theories of him being a little clockwork guy or being a hybrid (like runt and blink n the reclaim guys). its hard to tell what's cannon and what is troy mode comedy shit, but it seems like we may not have ever canonically? gotten a description/confirmation of what is actually under troys suit, and obviously not what may be under his skin. if he is a hybrid that could have some really fucked up connotations asw

third, whats his deal with his family? it's basically been confirmed that his mom's dead (or otherwise just OUT of the picture). his dad is around, for a bit i was SO convinced his dad was gonna be the inventor. either way, whats the deal between them? just nepo neglect? or something worse? i have a feeling either way i WILL be ugly crying. again. to jrwi. about a charlie character. and also siblings?? he said he had a brother. but then when the yort appeared he said he always wanted a brother? so maybe bad relationship there too?

also??? like his character growth?? the amount he has started to be able to convey his respect and care for the team. i love the little part about runt having an actual feeling of looking up to him when they sled down the mountain. they are so sibling coded. troy and blink's little arc was so good too (also like. malewife troy. all im saying about that). and his whole thing in ep 22, the way he was able to twist the perceptions people have of him, and even the fucked up shit he has done, to manipulate (gaslight gatekeep girlboss) his way through that situation. and the team letting him take the reigns!!!!! anyways this makes me wanna compile a list of my fave quotes/interactions/moments/etc from the campaign. i just might.

i genuinely dont know why im SO attached to this goddamn character. theoretically? i should hate him. he is like, literally antithetical to everything i am and stand for. literally a foil to who i am as a person. but like???? idk. as ive said before he's the first character ive ever understood and felt the "i can fix them" thing about lmao. and he has shown character growth,

and to me he seems. misguided? maybe even hurt? by those around him. it seems like those who should have nurtured him failed him. and like. i really empathize that. i kinda feel that a little too much (but from a different lens bc i am the furthest thing from a nepo baby lmfao). and not to psychoanalyze him (more), it seems to me that maybe deep down he thinks very lowly of himself. bro is literally prince charming but was surprised when aeon called him pretty boy?? like i mean obv, he's not the brightest guy around, but i also think he should give himself more credit where its due, and he might not appreciate his achievements enough and seems to beat himself down when he doesnt reach his own standards. he also seems very touch starved (or just. any [authentic] slightly positive interaction starved in general)

or maybe im just projecting too hard onto him oops lmao. thats the vibe i get tho

if you read all this i think youre probably just as ill as i am about this guy and like. respect. or maybe youre just bored or thought there would be something smart in here, in which case i deeply apologize for my word vomit

anyways i think im gonna go rewatch wonderlust from the start for like the fifth time. or riptide for the like 12th (god give us our funy lil pirates back!!!) because. i lobv them

[911coded]

I’m about 1/2 to 2/3 of the way through my bucktommy goes to the Pegasus Galaxy fic. The plan right now, if the characters don’t run away with it, is to get these crazy kids to Atlantis and back together. I will be leaving it open ended to continue with them living and working on Atlantis but right now I have no idea what that looks like. Ideas are welcome! I want to just post chapters here until I finish writing, then I will post the whole thing on AO3.

Chapter 1: My Lover’s Gone

Evan.Buckley13@gmail.com

To: David.Parrish.civ@mail.mil

Dave,

This is going to sound crazy but I just found out that Tommy has taken an assignment to Antarctica for the next six months! Antarctica, David! I can’t let him just leave, right? Fuck. I think I understand now why he ran but I’m at the end of my patience here now and I need to chase him before he somehow figures out how to leave the planet! Lol 😆

The LAFD bulletin says he’s stationed at McMurdo. Isn’t that where you and Lorne were based when we met in Mancora? Are you still in contact with someone there? I know you can’t say much, believe me, I understand classified, but I’m desperate man! I just need a contact in SAR and I’m sure with my certs and experience I can convince them I’d be an asset. I’ve been keeping up with all my training just in case so all I need to do is rent out my loft and I’m all set to go. Anyway, hopefully you’ll have some news for me in thurdays email. 🙏🏻

P.S. Sorry this is not like our usual emails, my head’s just a mess as you can probably tell. 😳

Talk soon,

Buck

David Parrish pushed his desk chair back and turned to the wall of windows and the sea glittering in the sun while trying to decide how he wanted to handle this situation. He smirked as he imagined the chaos Buck would bring to Atlantis. And maybe another pilot for Sheppard to play with. Of course, that’s a big if, it’s getting less and less common to find someone with the gene the last few years and Carson has been scratching his head over the why of it. With a sigh, he got to his feet and waved their suite door open. “Now to find someone with some actual authority,” he muttered to himself as he turned the corner to the nearest transporter.

He emerged in the main SCIENCE! corridor, almost positive he would find Major General John Sheppard hiding in Dr. Rodney McKay’s lab. Sure enough, when he entered the main lab, John was sprawled in an oversized chair, engaged in their version of flirting which consisted of snark and Rodney calling John, Colonel, instead of General, while they also solved complex math problems for fun. Weirdos. Dave plopped into a nearby chair and observed the chaos while he debated who to approach first.

“I got some news from my friend in Los Angeles,” he stated, when he noticed John looking at him. “Oh, yeah?” John prodded.

“Remember the ex-boyfriend that we advised to give him a little time, then go full Buck on him?” Dave asked.

“Is this the firefighter friend that makes ancient tech sit up and beg?” Rodney asked, smirking at John. John rolled his eyes at Rodney then nudged Dave’s arm, “What happened?”

“The ex-boyfriend ran away to McMurdo for six months. Buck wants to chase after him, he asked for my help with an introduction to someone in SAR down there,” Dave shared.

John’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Are you going to lure him into the program?” he asked. “Thinking about it,” Dave responded with a smirk.

Tommy was running through his preflight checks when he flinched reaching for the clipboard. Pathetic. Multiple memories of Evan grinning mischievously with a clipboard in hand ran through his mind. He shakes his head sharply and stuffed the thoughts and pain back in the steel chest in the back of his brain. He was here to work where no one knew him, where he could just breathe without someone tiptoeing around his feelings, and where he could hopefully learn how to let go of the pain of his imploded relationship. Maybe if he hadn’t done the imploding himself, it would be easier but of course he panicked and the next thing he knew, he was walking out of Evan’s loft having destroyed everything. Before Evan could ruin him. Jokes on Tommy though, turns out he can ruin himself without any help. With a deep breath, Tommy shoves the self-loathing aside and returns to his checklist with a huff.

He was running the last checks when he heard the crunch of boots on the frosted pavement, his VIP passenger was right on time.

David.Parrish.civ@mail.mil

To: Evan.Buckley13@gmail.com

Buck,

I have to tell you, my friend, you have some of my coworkers fascinated. 😂 With a bug from me in the right ear, it looks like a bored retired general should be on his way to meet your Tommy. Things are moving surprisingly quickly (well I say surprising, but most of us are out of field work and missing excitement in our lives). I heard that there was a fight between 2 generals about who got to scope out your pilot. Jack claimed that his “great age” and free time due to retirement meant that he was the obvious choice. Somewhere on my base, John is pouting and complaining to his scientist that no one lets him have fun anymore. You have already caused chaos without even being here! If nothing else, I’ll have a report on his state of mind for you by our next email. OR. If you are feeling adventurous and can get to Colorado Springs tout de suite, I have another bored general who has heard from Lorne about your uncanny bartender abilities. There may or may not be a betting pool. 😇

In all seriousness, I can get you a job without a problem, Tommy too. You both have the skills that our program can use. Here is where you have to make a decision, Buck. Classified. Our program can change your whole life, expand it and toss it on its ear. His too. Are you ready to fall down this rabbit hole? Think about it. Let me know.

Dave

Buck put his laptop on the coffee table and sat staring blankly at the wall, his mind racing in a million different directions at all the possibilities. Did he want to explore this opportunity that is now much more than SAR in Antarctica for a few months? Not only for him, but is it fair that he dragged Tommy into this? What if Tommy hates him for indirectly bringing him to the attention of these people? At this point, Buck is pacing the floor of his kitchen. Is he ready to leave his life here in LA for what could be a life-changing new job? Eddie was leaving next week to be with Christopher. Maddie, Chim, Hen, and Karen are settled in their families and happy. Bobby and Athena have both mentioned thoughts of retirement as a not so far into the future potential. What does he want next? What does he want? He wants a life with Tommy. He wants to help people. He wants to make a difference. He needs to talk this out. He needs some clarity. Buck jumps to his feet and grabs his keys and phone. He's out the door and in the elevator with the phone to his ear in a matter of moments.

[agenericfae]

woahhh me posting more than once every like 3 days :O (be fed more rat!martyn art :3)

uhm this might need a warning for eyestrain? i'm not sure but there are LOTS of bright colors.

i'll put it under a cut just in case?

i've redone this one 3 times now because of how much i adore the background. oh my god it's a little demon that haunts me. HAUNTS i tell you.

(i've also had this done since like 1/9/25 and kept forgetting to post it help lmao)

i'm not super happy with the hands but if i touch this peice one more time i may just... implode?

anyways uhhhh this is meant to be a nightmare? he'd probably have nightmares about getting found out tbh. also bright colors because i too would have nightmares about bright if i was in a position to where i didn't have to see it. it hurts my eyes. :(

OH AND THE MIND ELECTRIC LYRICS!! (my favorite one in the song actually, see how the brain plays around)

anyways uh yea i never really know what to say? i just kinda yap. a few of my posts have like around 100 notes and that's like really cool. i haven't been here for that long either lmao

also i keep forgetting to mention it but i did entirely flip out when THE cherri cherrifire reblogged my mlp x 3rd life art, like i screamed lol (that was like 2 weeks ago now lmao)

also thank you to the 16 sillies that follow me like :O y'all are big cool.

[mzminola]

Reading oodles of blogs' Percy Weasley tags and came across the idea of Percy becoming a werewolf sometime during the canon plot, and okay, I see the drama and emotional arc potential...

But as soon as I saw "werewolf Percy" my brain immediately leapt to him getting bitten as a kid.

We know Voldemort sent werewolves after people in the first war, that Percy was around five years old when the war ended, that Arthur worked for the Ministry and was against basically everything Voldemort was about, and that Molly's brothers were in the Order of the Phoenix.

So...yeah, final year of the war, either as outright revenge or fulfilling a threat when coercion failed either against Arthur or the Prewett brothers, V sends a werewolf (probably Greyback) after the Weasley kids, and Percy's the one to get chomped.

This just. Completely changes the family dynamics.

How is Percy gonna keep an eye on the younger kids, when he needs to be separate from everyone every full moon? Does he overcompensate as The Responsible One the rest of the time, or has that role not been pushed on him as hard?

How do Arthur & Molly handle interactions between the kids? Especially rough-housing? Percy's got a magical chronic illness now, a growing collection of scars, and possibly feeling ill in the days/before after the full moon (I can't remember how canon that was). But with all the stigma around werewolves, they're not well understood; how paranoid are all the adults about Percy scratching or biting one of the other kids during normal sibling tussles?

I think it's the extra-canonical materials that said the Lupin family moved a lot to avoid anyone figuring it out, but the Weasley's aren't doing that. They've got an established house with seven kids, they're not packing up to leave, and the Diggory & Lovegoods might be a bit far for a walk, but not by broomflight. Do the Weasleys try to isolate in their little plot of land, to avoid neighbors figuring it out, or do they just become super strict about allowed interactions? Do they make up an illness?

I could see them deciding to be strict about interacting with the Diggorys but lax with the Lovegoods, because if Xenophilius starts claiming the middlest Weasley child is a werewolf, no one believes him.

Dumbledore likely showed up immediately in the aftermath (or as soon as he heard, depending on how well hidden they kept the attack) to give the same offer of education he gave the Remus Lupin.

Alternatively, what if they can't keep it secret, because the Death Eaters told everyone? It's supposed to be a way to keep everyone scared, after all.

And of course the details of how Percy in particular got bit affect things. Was he outside when he wasn't supposed to be? To retrieve a lost toy, to get something from the garden, to fulfil a dare from an older brother? Did one of the adults miss a headcount? Did little five year old Percy throw himself in between a younger sibling and the big scary monster?

I think the most positive thing for everyone involved would be for Dumbledore to convince Lupin (because you know he wouldn't intrude on his own) to befriend the Weasleys. Lupin gets a new support network after his old one catastrophically imploded, Percy gets a role model, and Molly & Arthur get a third adult in this mess.