#Allow yourself to be vulnerable and to be open when you consume something

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

The Witch's Bodyguard

(3) I'm Bad At Love

Actress!Wanda Maximoff x Bodygaurd!Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda wants to know about your past

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: This is a hurt/comfort. Mentions of R's past relationship, abandonment issues

A/N: Wanda and R took over completely I did nothing it was all them

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop @rroyale-109 @wandanat01 @scarlizziee @nixxnsworld

@snoozingredpanda @wandamaximoff-simp @mrsromanovaa @sweet--escape17

@natashamaximoff-69 @godhatesgoodgirls @kristalag @mfd-101

It's a almost a month into your job as her security guard when she finally asks, "Can I ask you something?" You look up from the book in your hand.

"You can ask me anything Ma'am." You respond, setting the book down and giving her your attention.

"When you signed the contract you corrected one of my lawyers about you being Miss. and not Mrs. Were you married before?" You feel your chest tighten at the question. It certainly wasn't the question you were expecting.

You feel your chest tighten at the question, a rush of memories flooding your mind like a relentless tide. It wasn't a topic you were used to discussing, let alone with someone like Wanda, but her gentle curiosity urges you to open up, if only for a moment.

"I was," you respond, your voice flat, devoid of the usual stoicism.

Wanda's expression softens, her eyes reflecting a mixture of sympathy and understanding. "Is it okay to ask about it? I don't want to overstep," she speaks delicately, her concern palpable.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, the weight of the past pressing down upon you. "It's not by any means a good story," you admit, your gaze flickering away from hers. "But if you want to hear it..."

Her unwavering gaze prompts you to continue, despite the reluctance gnawing at your insides. "We were high school sweethearts. Dated all four years, and when we turned 18, she wanted to get married. So we just went to city hall and did the paper thing. Said we'd do a big wedding when I was done with my tours."

You pause, the memories threatening to overwhelm you. "She was always so supportive, but when I came back from my last tour, things were different. Turns out she wasn't okay with waiting anymore, and I was in no condition from my last tour to do anything like a wedding. Came home ready to tell her about Val and the job opportunity, but she was gone... ten years, and she left me with a note."

The words hang heavy in the air, a tangible reminder of the pain you've carried with you for so long. Without realizing it, tears begin to blur your vision, a silent testament to the wounds that still haven't fully healed.

Before you can retreat into the walls you've built around yourself, Wanda is suddenly there, her arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. She's practically in your lap, her presence a warm anchor amidst the storm of emotions threatening to consume you.

Wanda's words wash over you like a soothing balm, her empathy a comforting presence in the midst of your turmoil. You're taken aback by the raw emotion in her voice, the sincerity evident in every syllable. It's a side of her you hadn't seen before, one that speaks to the depth of her compassion and understanding.

"I am so sorry, Y/N. You didn't deserve that. No one deserves that," she says, her voice trembling with emotion. "She could have at least waited and said it to your face."

Her words strike a chord deep within you, stirring emotions you've long since buried beneath layers of stoicism. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you allow yourself to be vulnerable, to acknowledge the pain that still lingers beneath the surface.

In a moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability, you find yourself pulling Wanda closer, your arms wrapping around her waist as she settles onto your lap. She allows your tears to fall freely, offering silent solace in the embrace of your shared grief.

For a fleeting moment, the roles are reversed, and you find yourself seeking comfort in the arms of the woman you've sworn to protect. It feels oddly liberating, this unspoken exchange of support and understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that binds you together.

As Wanda's comforting touch soothes the ache in your heart, time seems to blur into a haze of shared sorrow and quiet understanding. Minutes stretch into hours, the only constant the gentle rhythm of her hand rubbing circles on your back.

You try to apologize for your outburst, but Wanda cuts you off with a determined look, her hand cupping your face with a surprising tenderness. "Stop. You have nothing to be sorry about," she insists, her voice filled with conviction. "She broke your heart, turned your whole world upside down, and she just got to walk away like it never mattered. I don't know how she could have done that to you."

Her words strike a chord deep within you, stirring a sense of righteous anger at the injustice of it all. You find yourself lost in the depths of her gaze, her eyes reflecting a fire that matches the intensity of your own emotions.

Unable to resist the magnetic pull between you, you nod in silent agreement, a sense of solidarity forming between you like an unbreakable bond. When Wanda smiles at your acquiescence, your stomach flips with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation.

She's so close to you now, her warmth seeping into your very soul, and you can't help but notice how beautiful she looks in the flickering firelight. The urge to lean in and kiss her is almost overwhelming, a primal instinct that refuses to be ignored.

Your hands, which had loosened from their earlier grip, now find purchase on her hips, fingers curling around the curves of her body as if seeking reassurance in her proximity. The air between you crackles with tension, thick with unspoken desires and unexplored possibilities.

In that moment, with her so close and your heart pounding in your chest, you realize that perhaps, there's more to this connection than meets the eye.

As Wanda's gaze flickers downward to your lips, you feel a surge of desire coursing through your veins, a primal instinct urging you to close the distance between you. Her hesitation is palpable, but the hunger in her eyes speaks volumes, mirroring the raw intensity of your own longing.

You catch the subtle movement of her tongue darting out to wet her lips, a gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. The temptation to lean in and taste her is almost overwhelming, a magnetic pull that refuses to be denied.

But even as your instincts scream for release, you can't shake the nagging voice of reason at the back of your mind. You know the boundaries that shouldn't be crossed, the consequences that could come from succumbing to this forbidden desire.

And yet, in the heat of the moment, with her so close and the fire of passion burning bright between you, those concerns seem distant and inconsequential. All you can think about is the taste of her lips, the feel of her body pressed against yours, the sweet surrender of giving in to this undeniable attraction.

But as you gaze into her eyes, you realize that perhaps, just perhaps, this moment is meant to be savored, not rushed. And so, with a silent vow to honor the boundaries that keep you apart, you lean back just slightly, allowing the space between you to linger like a promise unfulfilled.

In that moment, with the fire still burning bright and the night stretching out before you, you find solace in the unspoken understanding that this desire, though powerful, is something to be cherished, not consumed.

"It's late, we should get to bed," you finally break the silence, the words feeling heavy on your tongue as you try to push aside the swirling emotions that threaten to consume you.

Wanda's pout is unmistakable, her disappointment evident in the downturn of her lips. For a fleeting moment, you're tempted to give in to the urge to stay, to lose yourself in the intoxicating allure of her presence.

But the weight of responsibility bears down upon you, a reminder of the boundaries that must be upheld, even in the face of temptation. You can't risk crossing that line, not when the consequences could be so devastating.

Wanda gets off of your lap, pout still adorning her face and its hard to ignore as the two of you make your way to her room, making sure she gets there safely. As she goes to enter her bedroom your hand grabs for her wrist. The action catches both of you off guard as your body moves on instinct, pulling her back into you, holding her against your chest. As you pull back you lean down giving a peck to her cheek.

“Thank you for everything tonight. It was something I needed.” Wanda’s face was flushed when you pulled back, making you smirk. “I’ll see you in the morning Ma’am.” You turned around, letting her go as you walked down the hall to your room. Maybe one day you’d be able to give yourself to her, but not tonight.

[alexjcrowley]

Saying Swiss Army Man is about gay necrophilia is like saying Oedipus Rex is about a guy who fucks his mom. You're only technically correct.

[traceybrakes]

Let's Talk About Un-ironicizing Art!

In light of a lot of the conversations i've seen surrounding Death Grips and recent events concerning them, I want to take the time to point out that this is a good time to start thinking about how we engage with art on the whole!

For a long time, the irony poisoned method of consumption went unchecked in all facets of internet culture. As an internet musician in current day, I have noticed a sharp disconnect between artists and enthusiasts/casual listeners when it comes to attitudes surrounding music specifically, though I've witnessed it permeate all forms of art in some way.

I see people who have grown scared to engage on deeper levels, intentionally severing any resonant connections or knowledge learned from a piece of media before it has the chance to take root. In short, dare to be vulnerable! Dare to enjoy something on the basis that you yourself resonate with it, and not for any other nebulous reasoning. When masses of people relegate art to a spectacle, not only do artists become more likely to be disenchanted with the passions that fuel their work, but the consumer base ultimately suffers as well. All art at that point becomes less an extension of ourselves, less a vehicle to explore our identities, and is rendered a meaningless hulking sludge, or worse, the opponent to an already shrinking and narrow worldview.

Be not afraid to be unabashedly in love with the work that inspires you. Be not afraid to have the things you love misunderstood by by some. When you engage with work new and old, make sure to do it for yourself. Making and consuming art is inherently selfish, but being selfish is not inherently misguided. Allow yourself to learn, grow, discover, and repeat that cycle until the day you die.

To speak more candidly about my own experience, throughout the course of my life, there has been art that I've held near and dear to my identity, and own journey of self discovery that I seldom find others who hold the same sentiments to. I've always found this exciting. Exciting to hold something close to my chest as something so personal, and even more exciting when I can ease up on that grip when I find someone who I can share that with. However, I've also been through the throws of how the internet tends to chew up and spit out art that generally isn't understood by the many. I've fallen victim myself to the hive mind mentality that circles some artists and the cult of non-identity around them. This off-color ouroboros of knowing all about an artist's work and simultaneously upholding this facade of vapid complacency. I've come to the conclusion that if being openly supportive and connected to an artist's work or a particular piece of work automatically renders a person uninteresting and unambiguous at the very least, then I will live happily as an uninteresting open book. At the worst times, we see this line of thinking contribute to Death Grips being mocked and belittled en masse by people who are unwilling to engage with their art before they even get that far. It's heartbreaking, to me at least to see people put so much effort, emotion, and passion into transforming culture for the better to be rewarded with a crowd that's plugging their ears.

I realize I run the risk of sounding pretentious, self indulgent, or even patronizing to an extent; I apologize because that isn't my intention, I'm hoping to see gears shift at least on a micro level surrounding attitudes towards art appreciation. Remember to dare to be in love holistically with the art you engage with! Speak of the things you love in a way that makes that clear to others, and consider your peers to do the same! You and the people around you can only be better off for it.

[lynnlovesthestars]

Sleepless

Pairing: Wyll x fem!Reader

Genre and warnings: smut, fluff, Wyll tries very hard to not fuck Reader, fingering, praise kink (kinda?)

Wc: 1.4k

Plot: Wyll is sleepless, and your tent is just a few feet away from his.

Wyll stared at the fabric of his tent hovering over him as the silence of the night took over the camp. Everyone was already asleep or meditating, while he was tossing and turning in his bed roll, the sound of your carefree laugh was still echoing in his brain as he imprinted the image of you in the back of his eyelids.

His heart was heavy with the longing for your touch that night. It was like he couldn’t rest until he held you close to him. Whenever you’d crawl back to your tent after dinner, he couldn’t help it, he missed you.

When the moon was at its peak, he couldn’t hold it anymore. He rose from his bedroll and swiftly made his way towards your tent. Only when he got close enough, he could hear you whimper his name so low he felt it in his bones. You were having a nightmare and he wasn’t there to comfort you.

He didn’t hesitate then to open your tent and sneak in. But when he turned towards you to lay next to you, he was met with a totally different reality.

You were laying there disheveled, legs wide open and your fingers between your folds. Your eyes were closed, and your lips were chanting his name lowly. Your blouse was half unbuttoned, your breasts revealed to him.

He was speechless for a moment, the sight of you touching yourself and thinking about him was awakening something so deep within him that he had to muster all his will to restrain himself from tearing his clothes away and take you right there.

You were the most beautiful, and he was oh so grateful that the gods blessed his eyes by giving him a speck of heaven.

The guttural sound that escaped his lips was enough to get your attention. You turned flustered, your eyes wide open as you were caught. You could feel heat rising to your cheeks as you were about to sit up and apologize to him, but you were stopped when he knelt next to you, and you had his eyes trained on you. They were dark, hungry, and they were only for you.

He caressed your cheek before leaning closer.

His lips brushed with your ear as he got close enough to whisper. “You are such a sight, my shining star” He breathed out shakily yet so warm. You can feel his words deep within your core, pulling at the strings of your lust. You feel your wetness drip under you as you allowed him to touch you.

“Please, keep going” His voice was a purr loud enough just for you to hear, as your fingers met your clit again. “Yes, please yourself for me” He could feel his cock harden against the fabric of his pants, just at the sight of your lips hung open, and at the sound of your moans.

He sat behind you, placing his legs around you as he pulled you up against him. You allowed your head to loll back and your leg to rest on his, as another guttural whimper left you.

“Yes, just like this my love” He whispered as he traced the curves of your body, stopping right at the dip of your hips. His grip on you was firm, as his lips left warm kisses on your neck. His touch was so precise yet so desperate to feel as much as possible of you.

“Please, touch me” You begged between whimpers, your legs were trembling as you could feel pleasure starting to bubble up uncontrollable. It was so overwhelming, to be seen so vulnerable yet you felt like he was devouring you with his eyes, with his touch. His compliments were like fire flowing throughout your body as he consumed every cell of your body.

He hummed at your words, it was so hard to restrain himself, but looking at you so desperate for him was driving him insane.

“Just my fingers, nothing more” He offered, as he could feel his own underwear starting to soak in his precum, so needy of you.

“Y-yes” You whispered again as his fingers slowly traced your skin, until they reached your folds. You were pushed closer to him, so he could effortlessly reach your sopping pussy as he kissed the dip of your shoulder.

His naked skin was scorching against yours as he held you to him.

“So breathtaking” He murmured as his callous finger barely touched your clit, your hips buckled to meet him.. “So sensitive”

His other hand rested on your chest, kneading your breast as he wanted to worship every inch of you. He could cum in his pants just by looking at you moaning his name like a prayer.

But when he finally dipped his finger in you, that’s when he became a mess. The way your warmth enveloped his finger, swallowing it hungrily and clenching around it, made his breath itch. If he concentrated enough he could picture what you would feel around his cock, and he knew that the moment he would finally take you, he had no chance of lasting, you would milk him before he even had the chance to move.

He pumped into you relentlessly as his thumb rubbed circles on your clit. He swore he didn’t care if everyone heard you moan his name like madness. For a moment he didn’t care about anything but the way you begged him for more, the way you would tremble in his arms as he added another finger, the way you desperately chased your orgasm.

It was inexplicable what you felt as all your senses were stroked, even your tadpole was squirming begging to connect with Wyll’s as you melted in his touch.

He allowed your feelings to wash over him, the pleasure seeping and warming him like he never felt before. Not even the nights spent palming himself thinking about you, could compare to the pleasure that was exploding in you.

“C’mon my love” His own breath hitched as his eyes rolled back, your orgasm so close he swore he’d dedicate his life just to coax this feeling from you. His words chocked in his throat, your pleasure mixing with the taste of his words. “Cum for me” He breathlessly invited you to let go of everything, and allow the warmth to eat you alive, and you did.

You were hit by everything all at once, your senses all snapped as you could barely control your body. Everything spiraled, your limbs shook as you couldn’t even form a sentence, Wyll’s name was the only thing you choke through the overwhelming warmth that took over you.

You felt his cock pushing against your back, constrained in the fabric, as it twitched twice before painting his underwear white with his cum.

You slumped again against his chest, his warmth radiating through you, he didn’t let go of you. You were both panting, as you stayed like that for a moment before he glanced at his fingers.

Your cum dripped all over his pads, down to his parm, and he couldn’t help but take a taste of you.

He took his time savoring each finger like it was ambrosia, and he had to stop himself from taking more of your cum but directly from your pussy cause that was going to be reserved for the night he would make you his.

He was the one breaking the silence, still breathless. “You are going to drive me insane”

You chuckled at his words, as you turned towards him yet still in his arms. “You tell me” Your thumb traced his jaw before you’d pull him closer. Your lips were just mere inches away from his. “I want you so much that some nights i can't stop touching myself” and then you leaned in, catching his lips in a slow kiss. You could feel his smile growing as he wanted you to mold him with your body. Your chest pressed against his and your legs found his hips as you reached for one of his horns, just enough so you could steady yourself as you worshiped his lips.

“Soon, my love” He whispered as he held you to him, while sliding under your blanket.

Your naked body wrapped around him, your legs intertwined with yours as you could feel your hearts coming back to a steady rhythm while the weight of the day finally anchored to your limbs. In the newfound silence of the tent, he'd steal a few kisses as you were both finally falling asleep.

[ginnsbaker]

empty crib

Summary: “So?” you ask, not lifting your gaze from the crib you've been assembling for the past thirty minutes. Wanda simply shakes her head, discarding the pregnancy test into the trash.

Word count: 5.3K+ | Tags: Smut (18+), Angst, ILGOSS Universe, Slight breeding kink

A/N: Another oneshot in the ILGOSS universe, this time requested by anon who wanted something about Wanda and Reader's struggles with getting pregnant.

Masterlist

-

You slide slowly inside of Wanda with a groan, starting with steady, shallow thrusts. Your hands find their way to her waist, fingers inching towards the softness of her lower belly. Each movement of your hips against hers is fueled by the tantalizing idea of filling her. The thought is driving you crazy, and you can't help but visualize a future where Wanda carries a piece of both of you inside her. 

Ever since the two of you finally decided to get pregnant, and that Wanda would be the one to carry the baby, you've been constantly consumed by the thought of impregnating your wife, fucking her like an obsessed, horny teenager every time you get the chance. Wanda hasn't expressed any complaints either. She seems to want you too, in that desperate, touch-me-or-I’ll-die kind of way. The last time you were both this intoxicated with each other was during your honeymoon, but the difference now is that you're both more comfortable and daring in bed, having had ample time to learn about each other's likes and dislikes.

Now is no different; in fact, the atmosphere feels even more heady since Wanda recently received the embryo implantation. Lifting your wife’s hips slightly off the bed and putting the rest of your weight on your knees, you begin thrusting into her in slow, deep strokes. You make sure to pull out with just the tip of the strap inside, before pushing back in with more force. You repeat the action with rapt attention and soon, the unmistakable sound of wetness fills the room—a rhythmic squelching accompanying every thrust of the strap. 

“God, Wanda,” you groan, feeling the wetness of her coating your cock, watching it trickle down her soft thighs, “You're so fucking wet, you’re dripping.”

She lets out a throaty moan, her voice dripping with lust, “Because of you.” Wanda's own hands move to the roundness of your ass cheeks. She grips them tightly, nails digging into the flesh, urging you with a silent plea to drive into her with more force. You struggle to keep your eyes open, even as pleasure begins to stir in the depths of your stomach. They trail over Wanda's body, taking in every exquisite detail. The soft, blue hue cast by the moonlight makes her skin look even more ethereal, highlighting the slight sheen of sweat that has formed on her forehead and neck. The delicate curve of her breasts draws your attention, especially her tight, pink nipples that stand erect in the heat of the moment. You take a deep breath through your nose, inhaling the scent that is distinctly hers, a mix of sweat, arousal, and the lingering fragrance of her perfume. 

Her lips, plush and rosy, are half-parted, soft moans escaping them every time you move within her. But it's her eyes that capture you the most. They dart to yours every now and then, holding your gaze, the vulnerability in them enough to make your heart race. As you continue to move, you notice the little details—like the way her face scrunches up in sheer pleasure when you angle yourself to hit that particular spot deep inside her. The way she bites down on her lower lip, trying to muffle a particularly loud moan. You're hopelessly enthralled by her, that sometimes you toy with the idea that you can cum just by looking at her, by filling your senses with everything that is Wanda Maximoff.

In the heat of the moment, you allow yourself to be fully immersed in the experience. You imagine the strap is a part of you, a real extension of your own flesh, and you feel—or at least, you pretend to feel—every ridge, every hot, slick part of her clenching around you.

Wanda whimpers on cue, as if reading your thoughts. “I want all of you. Now.”

Suddenly, you feel her fingers drawing slow circles around your rim, teasing the sensitive skin there. The unexpected sensation makes you gasp, your rhythm faltering momentarily. “What are you—?” you start, only to be silenced by her lips crashing onto yours.

The kiss is fiery, desperate, and when you pull away, she whispers, “More.” 

You comply, thrusting with renewed fervor, driven wild by her touch and her words. “I'm close,” you gasp, the coil in your belly winding tighter with each thrust. You're slicker, your thrusts becoming deeper, and with a particularly hard drive, you're pushed deeper inside her than you'd imagined possible.

“Do it,” she moans, her middle finger slipping inside your ass, “cum inside me.”

Wanda's inner walls clench tightly around the toy, signaling her own impending release. Her legs lock around your waist, pulling you in even deeper, and you can't hold back any longer. With a strangled cry, you climax, your body shaking with the force of it. You bury your face into the crook of her neck, biting down on the spot where her neck meets her shoulder, leaving a mark that will surely be visible tomorrow.

The two of you ride out the waves of pleasure together, your breathing ragged and in sync. But the moment of rest is brief. Sensations still course through you, and with a sense of boldness, you start moving again, this time at a pace that leaves both of you breathless.

“W-wait,” Wanda stammers, her body already trembling from overstimulation. “It's too much.”

Instead of slowing, your fingers deftly find her clit, beginning to circle it with precision. Her protests turn into moans, her body arching up to meet each of your thrusts. And then, with a gasp and a shuddering sigh, she comes undone beneath you once more.

Moments later, her eyes flutter open, and there's a look of sheer astonishment and satisfaction in them. “You... you're incredible,” she breathes. “I've never felt so full, so complete.”

“You did so well, love,” you whisper, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You took everything I gave, and you looked absolutely stunning doing it.” Unable to resist, you lean down to capture her lips in a tender kiss, before your hand moves to caress her belly. “I love the idea of filling you up,” you murmur against her lips.

She chuckles softly, her fingers tracing patterns on your back. “I noticed,” she teases.

Not ready to break the connection just yet, you wrap your arms tightly around her, savoring the closeness. And with a gentle roll, you shift positions, with Wanda now on top of you. The toy remains in place, and you both shiver from the sensation, even as the urgency of earlier has mellowed into a languid post-orgasmic haze.

Wanda nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck, her soft breaths tickling your skin. “Let's just stay like this,” she whispers, her fingers lazily drawing circles on your chest.

“You know,” you muse aloud, a dreamy quality to your voice, “I’ve always liked the name ‘Elena’ for a girl. And maybe ‘William’ for a boy. What do you think?”

Wanda giggles, her breath warm against your neck. “Already thinking about baby names, are we?”

You shrug, feeling a bit bashful. “I can't help it. I'm just... excited, you know?”

She pulls back slightly, looking deep into your eyes with her own sparkling ones. “I know, darling. But remember, it's only been a week since I got the implant. We don't even know if I'm pregnant yet.”

You sigh, the reality of the situation sinking in. But then a stubborn grin forms on your face. “How about we make sure you are?” you say as you gently rock your hips upward.

Wanda gasps, her cheeks reddening. “You do realize that's not how it works, right?” But even as she says it, you can notice her gaze already darkening.

“But it doesn't hurt to... practice, right?” you whisper, your movement becoming more deliberate.

Wanda bites her lip, considering, then nods with a smirk. “Alright then. Let's 'practice'.”

-

It’s the third attempt that ends with Wanda not being pregnant. To be sure you're doing everything right, you and Wanda decide to visit a different reproductive endocrinologist.

The sterile walls of the clinic, coupled with the waiting room's soft music, can't quell the anxiety bubbling up inside both of you. You glance at Wanda, her fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on the armrest.

Soon, a nurse calls you into the doctor’s office. It’s more welcoming than the antiseptic hallway outside. A tall, thin woman with a kind face and graying hair greets you both with a warm smile. “Hello, I’m Dr. Adams. Please have a seat.” She gestures to two comfortable chairs opposite her desk. You both take a seat, and she flips through Wanda's medical charts, scanning the numerous notes and test results. After a few more minutes filled with the sound of pages flipping and muffled conversations outside the room, the doctor finally looks up, focusing specifically on Wanda.

“I’ve gone over your charts and the lab results,” she starts evenly. “Everything looks promising. The numbers, hormone levels, all of it—it’s in the range we’d hope for. In clinical terms, you're a great candidate for conception.”

You and Wanda release a synchronized breath; Both of you have been overthinking this, searching for any fault, so it's reassuring to hear that everything is not only normal but also as it should be—perhaps even great.

Dr. Adams continues, “However,” she leans forward, “conception, in my personal belief, isn’t solely a game of numbers. God, or whatever higher power one might believe in, still has a say. There’s a mysterious element, a touch of magic, if you will, in the process.”

Wanda nods, her eyes a bit watery, “We just want to be parents. It's been harder than we imagined.”

The doctor nods, clasping her hands together. “I understand. I always tell my patients, 'Do your part and let the universe handle the rest.' It might sound a bit philosophical, but I've seen countless stories of hope and miracles throughout my career.”

Squeezing Wanda's hand, you're buoyed by the hope in those words. In return, she offers you a tight smile.

“With that said, let’s go over your treatment plan. It says here in your clinical history that you’ve been on COH for a while now, so let’s just retain that as we might need to harvest a new batch of eggs again

“We'll also introduce a GnRH Agonist, probably Lupron, to make sure there's no premature egg release. And as a precaution, we might add a GnRH Antagonist like Ganirelix.”

“And after you retrieve the eggs?” Wanda asks, hoping for something different, something that could easily be the missing piece in all of this.

Dr. Adams smiles gently, “Then, we'll give Progesterone, perhaps in the form of an injectable or a vaginal gel, to prepare the uterus for the embryo implantation. And we may supplement with Estradiol for the uterine lining, especially if we consider a frozen embryo transfer later."

She pauses, completing the prescription as she continues speaking. “Around the embryo transfer, I'd also recommend antibiotics and possibly a low dose of steroids to enhance the chances of implantation.”

You both exchange glances, feeling as though you're back at square one. Dr. Adams catches the look shared between the two of you. “I understand your apprehension,” she says, “and it might feel as though we're taking a step backward or starting all over again. But sometimes, we need a new approach or a minor tweak in the process.”

You rub Wanda's back soothingly, but you can feel her muscles tense beneath your fingers. The medical jargon, the never-ending cycle of hope followed by despair, it all starts to blend into one blurry narrative. You take the prescription from Dr. Adams, thanking her for her time and insight.

At home, you both decide to take a break from the overbearing thoughts and treat yourselves to a quiet, simple dinner. 

-

You’re about to reach for the strap when Wanda stops you.

“Can we maybe... just for tonight—” Wanda's gaze meets yours, her lip caught nervously between her teeth, her eyes searching for your response as if she's made a misstep. “Just... just you. That’s all I need. Please?”

You place the strap aside, focusing solely on her.

“Okay, okay,” you whisper back, fingers delicately skimming the contour of her cheek, absorbing the heat of her flush. “Just us.”

You keep your gazes fixed on each other as you slowly guide her back onto the bed. The look in her eyes tells you she needs more from you—not just the need to come. You desperately want to tell her that whatever it is, she just needs to ask. Or that you wish you could understand her unspoken needs, so she wouldn't have to voice them, and you'd still fulfill them. But somehow, words fail to leave your lips.

Frankly, words have been failing you for quite some time now. And so, you let your mouth and your fingers do the talking.

-

“So?” you ask, not lifting your gaze from the crib you've been assembling for the past thirty minutes.

Wanda simply shakes her head, discarding the pregnancy test into the trash. For eleven months, you've both been diligently adhering to every guideline—tracking ovulation cycles, maintaining the prescribed diet, optimizing sleep schedules, even monitoring the daily water intake. You've both undergone all necessary tests for IVF, from basic hormone assessments to detailed embryological evaluations. Despite all efforts and precautions, Wanda still isn't pregnant. Of course, there's a pang of disappointment, but giving up isn't an option. 

“We just have to keep trying.”

Wanda scoffs as she pours herself a glass of water. Sparky scuttles up to her, hoping for a fallen morsel. “Easy for you to say.”

Distracted by her remark, you shift your focus from the wooden pieces that refuse to align. Your brows knit together, and your lips pull into a slight frown. Meanwhile, Sparky trots over and nudges your leg with his snout. “What do you mean by that?” you ask Wanda, while absentmindedly patting Sparky's head.

Wanda’s silence is a more powerful response than any words could have been, but she quickly sidesteps the tension in the room by changing the subject. “Do you want bacon?” she asks, her eyes focusing on arranging the ingredients on the counter.

Baffled by the sudden shift, you answer, “We don't have bacon. We've been on that strict diet, remember?”

“I picked some up yesterday,” she replies, her voice a tad too casual as she avoids eye contact, focusing instead on cracking an egg into a mixing bowl. You study her for a moment, sensing there's more beneath her words. 

“Wanda,” you begin gently, “talk to me.” She remains silent, but her grip on the pan's handle speaks volumes.

With no response from Wanda, you release a resigned sigh and refocus on the crib you’ve been struggling with. An insight strikes and you manage to align the elusive pieces. As you start hammering them together, the sound ricochets across the quiet morning—a rather unpleasant sound.

The clamor clearly irks Wanda, causing her to hurl the turner onto the sink with a resounding clang that captures your attention. The sudden motion startles Sparky, who retreats to a corner with a soft whine.

She spins around, her chest heaving with pent-up emotions. “You want me to talk? Fine, I'll talk. Why did you tell Natasha we were trying to have a baby?”

Your hammering ceases abruptly. Her rage blindsides you. It's true, you had shared your hopes with Natasha as early as a month into trying with Wanda. But that was a long time ago, why was this a problem now?

“You know Nat is like a sister to me, and I didn't think it would be an issue,” you try to explain. “It’s been so long since then, why bring it up now?”

Wanda’s face contorts as she struggles to hold back tears. “Because last night, she looked at me with pity, with sadness... I don’t want people’s pity!” she cries out. You set down the hammer and walk towards her.

“I promise, Nat doesn't pity you,” you say, taking Wanda’s hand. She struggles against your grip for a moment, but you don't let go. Eventually, she gives in, and you pull her into a hug. “But I'm truly sorry for sharing without your consent. That was my mistake.”

When you pull back, she doesn’t meet your gaze, her eyes fixed on the crib behind you. It's a beautiful piece, elegant in its design, something any parent-to-be would cherish. But for now, it only makes Wanda seethe even more.

“Natasha gave us that crib, didn't she?”

You nod, remembering the day when Natasha had surprised you both with the gift, her way of showing support for the new chapter in your lives. “Yes, she did. Out of love, Wanda.”

But Wanda’s eyes blaze, her voice breaking, “While you feel gratitude when you see it, all I feel is pressure. You know what I see when I look at it? The symbol of my failure. I feel like I'm letting you down, and now with Nat knowing, I have another person I feel I’m disappointing.”

You’re heartbroken hearing her express her anxieties. You had no idea she'd been carrying such a burden. Pulling her close, you hold her tightly. “I don't ever want you to feel that way. We're in this together, no matter what. And nobody—not even Nat—can make us feel less than.”

Wanda buries her face in your chest, allowing herself to release the pain she's been holding back. She clings onto you, her fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt as she seeks comfort in your reassurances. “Don’t you ever leave me,” she murmurs amidst her tears. “I just want to make you happy.”

Your lips press tightly together. Of course, you'd never consider leaving Wanda. The thought wouldn't even cross your mind. Where is all this coming from?

“You do make me happy, every single day,” you reply, your words soaked in the truth of your love for her, “with or without a baby, our happiness is crafted by the love we share, not by the expectations of others or the gifts they give.”

“And you love me?” Wanda asks.

Gently cupping her face in your hands, you make sure she’s looking directly into your eyes when you say, “Every inch, every fiber, every moment.”

Her eyes search yours, a shadow flickering within them that you can't quite pin down. After a long beat of silence, she whispers, “Okay. Then return that crib to Natasha.”

-

Natasha's apartment is a study in minimalist elegance with clean lines and straight forward colors. You ring the bell, adjusting the large box you're holding, and rehearse the speech in your head. After all, you've never returned anything Natasha has given you before.

The door swings open, revealing your best friend in a tattered shirt, her hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She eyes the box, then shifts her gaze up to meet yours, arching an eyebrow. “That's...a large box.”

“It's the crib,” you state simply, seeing no reason to beat around the bush.

Her eyes flash with understanding and perhaps a hint of curiosity. “Come in.”

You push the box through the door with some considerable effort and take a seat on her plush sofa, noting how her living room has changed since your last visit. New artwork on the walls, a couple of throw pillows that weren’t there before.

Natasha takes a seat opposite you. “How's Wanda?”

“She's... coping,” you reply with a bit of hesitation. “Some days are better than others.”

After Wanda confronted you about sharing the private details of your married life with your best friend, you've been extra cautious about what to share and what not to. With people like your boss Scott or your colleagues at work, it's easy. But with your best friend, it's hard to hold back, especially when she's the only other person you turn to for advice and confide in.

Natasha nods in understanding, her sharp eyes analyzing you. “You look...fit. More so than the last time I saw you.”

“Yeah, been on a restrictive diet to help Wanda keep hers. Thought it'd help her with food temptation if I joined in.”

She smirks, “That's sweet. But is that the only reason?”

You smile sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Well, initially, yes. But I've started enjoying my time at the gym. It makes me feel... more confident, I guess. And it's been a good distraction, especially with all the stress at work.”

“That’s good to hear,” she says, her gaze flitting towards the box. “But what’s up with the crib?”

Taking a deep breath, you began to recite the rehearsed explanation about your mother wanting to gift you a crib, how it seemed redundant to have two, and how—but Natasha cuts you off with an amused chuckle.

“Come on, Y/N,” she grins, shaking her head. “I’m not buying that crap. Just tell me the truth. I won't be offended.”

“Alright,” you start, dropping the facade. “Wanda's been finding it hard. The crib... it’s like this looming symbol of expectation and pressure for her. We’ve been trying for months and it's been weighing on her. And, honestly, on me too.”

Natasha’s eyes soften at your admission. “I can’t even begin to imagine how tough this must be for both of you,” she says. “But let me ask you something, Y/N. How do you feel about all of this? Not just the crib, but Wanda not being able to get pregnant?”

For a moment, you appear deeply engrossed in thought, gazing at the box and the unfinished crib, then your eyes shift back to meet Natasha's. “It's difficult. Every month, there’s this hope, this expectation. And when it doesn’t happen, it’s... crushing. Not just for Wanda, but for me too. I watch her go through it every time and it kills me that I can't do more to help. That being said, I don’t blame her, nor do I see her any differently. I love her, no matter what. But it's hard to watch her go through this pain.”

“Does she know that?”

You’re about to say yes but then your most recent argument with Wanda stops you.

Don’t you ever leave me. I just want to make you happy.

It’s clear that you haven’t been telling her enough. Maybe a part of you doesn't want to admit that there's a twinge of disappointment, or that you've started to believe you could be the one to try in her stead. But you haven't shared any of this with Wanda. In keeping silent, you mistakenly thought you were reassuring her. Wrapped up in your career, you've been blind to the emotional strain it's placed on your wife, how it's shaken her self-esteem and her trust in your love.

Maybe you'd been too caught up in your own head, too busy trying to protect her, and in doing so, inadvertently pushed her away.

“I mean, I thought she knew,” you say with a shaky sigh. “But maybe I haven't been clear enough. I've been trying to maintain a positive outlook, you know? But I think I messed up.”

After a pause, Natasha rises and offers, “Want a beer?”

You nod, then lean back, exhaling audibly. “I'm even thinking about... you know, maybe I should be the one to try. But I'm scared it'll seem like I've given up on her.”

Natasha's eyes widen slightly as she hands you a cold can of beer. “Whoa, that's big. But just, when you talk to her about it, make sure she knows it's 'cause you two are in this together. Not 'cause you think she can't. And is…that what you want?”

“We want kids, Nat.”

“But does it have to happen now?”

You pop open the beer and take a deep sip before responding. “I mean, I don't think either of us envisioned it would be this hard. It's just... We both felt ready, you know? And after all the effort and disappointment, it's not easy to just push pause.”

“I don’t know, Y/N… Sometimes life throws us curveballs, and we've got to decide if we want to swing or wait for the next pitch.”

“You've been hanging around Clint too much.”

Natasha grins. “Maybe. But seriously, what's the rush? If the universe is telling you something, maybe it's worth listening.”

You look down at the beer can, condensation slipping down its side. “I just hate seeing her hurt. Every negative test, every failed attempt, I can see how much it's breaking her.”

“Then talk to Wanda,” Natasha says. “Ask her what she wants. Stop making assumptions and trying to fix everything.”

The thing is, you don't want to give up. That's probably why you're so nervous about mentioning to Wanda the idea of pausing and rethinking things. You've been self-centered for too long, and as much as Wanda wants to make you happy, you need her to be happy too.

“Thanks, Nat. It means a lot,” you say, rising from your seat. Just as you're about to reach the door, Natasha's voice stops you.

“I'll hold onto the crib for when the time's right, okay?”

-

You are startled awake from a light slumber by the sound of soft moans beside you. As your eyes flutter open, you see Wanda, her hand moving frantically under the sheets. The sight sends a warm thrill down your spine, but you notice her face turning a shade redder as she realizes you've woken up.

“Oh, I-I didn't mean to wake you,” she stammers, trying to pull the sheet over her actions, but you catch her wrist gently. It hurts a bit to realize that Wanda tried to hide her actions from you. It's in this moment you recognize you've been neglecting her physical needs as well, and you can't remember the last time you made love to her in earnest.

“Hey, it's okay,” you whisper reassuringly, your sleepy eyes now more alert and focused on her flushed face.

You reach over to the nightstand and turn on the lamp. Now, with better visibility, you can see the sheen of sweat on her forehead, her lips slightly parted as she bites down on her lower lip to stifle any further sounds.

“Sorry,” she mutters again, looking away shyly. “I didn't think I'd wake you.”

“No need to apologize,” you respond softly, your heart pounding against your ribcage. “Can I... can I help?”

Wanda nods her head bashfully, her breath quickening. You smile inwardly; you've lost track of how many times you've done this to her, to each other, yet there’s still this little dance you do even though you both know what it’s going to look like within the next hour.

You can tell she's probably expecting your fingers, which is why when you maneuver yourself down to the foot of the bed, her eyes widen with a blend of surprise and arousal.

You settle between her legs, taking a moment to admire the goddess before you. As you slowly slide off her panties, you take the opportunity to press tender kisses along her trembling thighs.

“You're so beautiful,” you murmur against her skin, feeling her shiver under your touch. “You smell so good, so delectable.” She whimpers softly as you continue, “You've been such a wonderful partner, Wanda. You complete me in every way.”

Wanda is enough. Whether the path to pregnancy is smooth or rocky, what matters most is this—the life you share together, the bond you’ve formed over the years. You'd rather have her happy and content, than stressed and miserable over what might not be.

Without further ado, you delve into the act of worshiping her with your tongue, making her gasp and clutch the sheets beside her. Her name falls from your lips like a prayer as you navigate through her soft folds, each stroke of your tongue eliciting a beautiful melody of moans and sighs from her.

You don't consider yourself particularly religious, but you send a silent thanks to whoever might be up there, that you get to experience everything with this woman—for better or for worse.

-

“Branch manager? But I thought—”

“You need the experience, Y/N, so I can properly recommend you for an AVP position,” Scott says, adjusting his tie—a habit you've observed he resorts to in awkward moments.

You blink in surprise, trying to process the unexpected turn. “Scott, that's... I'm honored, truly, but I was under the impression that the AVP position was nearly within my grasp.”

He exhales, avoiding direct eye contact. “Look, Y/N, you're incredibly talented, and everyone knows it. But there are some procedural checkboxes we need to tick, and having branch managerial experience is one of them.”

“But there must be some catch to this 'promotion', right?” you ask.

Scott shifts uneasily in his chair before replying, “Well, there is a trade-off. You'll be temporarily relocated to Westview, New Jersey.”

“Westview?”

He nods, “The branch there needs significant improvement, and the higher-ups believe you're the best person for the job. They would be immensely grateful for your expertise.”

Swallowing the sudden lump in your throat, you inquire, “How long do I have before the move?”

“Less than a month,” he admits, sounding apologetic.

The prospect of relocating, even temporarily, is daunting, especially given the current circumstances at home. You haven't even touched on the idea of perhaps pumping the brakes on conceiving with Wanda, and now this added responsibility looms ahead.

-

You push open the front door of the apartment, immediately hearing Sparky's playful barks. Wanda is lounging on the living room couch, a bowl of green salad in her lap. She's back on her restrictive diet, you note, and she looks more refreshed than she has in weeks.

Attempting to be discreet, you try to slide the platter of sushi behind a cushion, but Wanda's observant eyes catch the movement. “Is that...sushi?”

Ah, there it goes—your surprise. “Um, yeah,” you mutter, bringing the platter around, “I thought maybe we could enjoy something different tonight.”

Her eyes dart between the sushi and your face, the question clear in her eyes. You sigh, deciding to cut to the chase. “I think maybe we should...take a break from trying. Just for a little while.”

Wanda looks stunned, and before she can say anything, you continue, “It’s taking a toll. On both of us, but especially on you. And with this new opportunity at work, which requires me to relocate temporarily…”

She’s silent for a beat, and then you see her eyes well up with tears, the dam breaking as she cries softly. It's a quiet cry, one of acceptance and understanding, but it still breaks your heart.

You pull her into a hug, letting her tears soak through your shirt. “Hey, it’s just a pause. And it’s a chance for us to enjoy things we’ve missed,” you say, holding out the platter of sushi toward her.

She looks at the platter and then at you, her tears mingling with a soft smile. “I've missed sashimi,” she whispers, her voice cracking.

You smile back, wiping away her tears. “And I've missed seeing you enjoy it,” you reply tenderly.

With a small sigh, she picks up a piece, enjoying the flavor that she's missed for so long. You both know that this pause doesn’t mean giving up—it's just a small detour. You’re looking forward to a new chapter with the move to New Jersey. Who knows, maybe if things in your career stabilize, you can discuss with Wanda the possibility of you being the one to carry. It's a delicate suggestion, for sure, but deep down, it kind of feels like that might be the way things should go.

But still, you can't help but ask—

“Hey, we're okay, right?”

Wanda seems to search for words for a moment before answering. Her eyes, now clear, meet yours with a fondness that's always been there.

Her hand reaches out to hold yours, and you latch onto it, feeling your need for her to stay grounded.

“We’re okay.”

-

A/N: Yeah, we all know what happens next...

[randomfoggytiger]

Disproving CSM's Conjecture in En Ami

CSM postulates that Scully and Mulder aren't together because she doesn't fully trust him; that, although she's drawn to powerful men, she is afraid to open herself up to them.

"You'd die for Mulder, but you won't allow yourself to love him."

The problem is, he's wrong.

Because CSM mixed up her fatal flaw with Mulder's.

Self-Denial and Self-Sacrifice

CSM's theory: Scully rules herself by denial, and Mulder offers himself up as the sacrificial lamb. How is he wrong?

Scully's flaw is self-sacrifice, putting everything she covets from life on hold to join Mulder on his quest (comedically summed up in Bad Blood's "I do it all for you, Mulder! All for you!") The Starbuck-Ahab complex she harbored since childhood-- expressing her love through devotion-- kept her in the car the first year; but the Truth soon became as much about her losses as it did Mulder's tragedies. Unlike Mulder, however, Scully strives to have a life uncomplicated by mess and trauma and the constant grind. So, she sits in the car, year after year, waiting for her partner to adapt to their changing dynamic (which he did not do for almost six of those years.) Her own fears and insecurities are placed under the bootheel of the work; but when life becomes too complicated or emotionally clouded, Scully strikes out in confused rebellion (e.g. Never Again, Milagro, and All Things.) Moreover, Scully is the one who sacrificed what she held dear-- stability, a family, something other than 24/7 monsters and conspiracies-- to bear the cross of Mulder's quest, not the other way 'round. (The realization-- that she does want this life-- and shift does not occur until All Things, a few episodes after En Ami.)

Mulder's fatal flaw is self-denial (and self-punishment): he set aside a normal life out of a determination to find or avenge his sister. If Mulder was self-sacrificial, he would have let Scully walk out of his life a thousand times over and born that heartbreak silently, alone; instead, he stormed out after her and broke down his walls to convince her to stay. Furthermore, his self-denial is ever present even in tender moments, drawing away from emotional vulnerability once danger is past and shying away even faster if Scully draws attention to the present moment. Mulder is the one to deny himself love and a life with Scully (Home, Detour, Dreamland I, Arcadia, etc.), not the one who sacrificed everything he wanted to stay on his quest-- this is what he wants. (The change from obsessive pursuit to measured search begins in The Unnatural, changes wholly in Amor Fati and Millennium, and reaches its conclusion in Closure.)

CSM's Observations

The reality that CSM observed both agents for years and years and came to the exact opposite conclusion is baffling.

He concluded that Mulder sacrificed normalcy for the Almighty Mission, projecting his own Messiah complex onto his 'protege' and patting himself on the back whenever Mulder was, yet again, tossed to the jaws of Death for the "greater good." He also concluded that Scully stayed in the basement because of the raw power she smelled on Mulder, keeping a cold yet lustful distance because she was afraid to risk her womanly love on the all-consuming passion of his might.

How very dime store novel of Old Smokey.

Both assumptions are, of course, very wrong.

Mulder Dreaded "More" While Scully Hoped for It

Scully gave many unsubtle hints through the series that she was ready for more with Mulder: her willingness to go down with him in Tooms, her overt jealousy in Syzygy, her pointed inquiry about his family genetics in Home, her displacement and hurt in The Field Where I Died and Never Again and The End and The Beginning and One Son, her "we just keep driving" in Dreamland I, her unspoken 'secret' that was practically ripped from her chest in Milagro, her flirting in The Unnatural, her IVF request, and on and on.

Scully is by nature reticent with her emotions, fearful to fully open up lest she be hurt or become a burden; but in Mulder's case, she's reiterated over and over (Irresistible and Elegy) that their relationship falls into the latter, not former, category. In Emily she is, once again, "alone"; however, the context to her statement is vitally important. In the hospital, she hoped for Mulder to claim a place by her and her daughter's side as co-parent; but when he uncomfortably withdrew instead, it proved that he still wasn't ready for "more." Scully was alone in places Mulder couldn't fill; and so, she said goodbye to that hope, alone; then to her daughter, alone; and bore the little girl's death, alone. The burden of her fully opened heart was too heavy, she assumed, for Mulder... and in a way, she was right-- not until Fight the Future, when forced to confront "them", did Mulder finally acknowledge it. Until then, sacrificially tucking her heart back inside her chest-- for both their sakes-- was what Scully deemed the best course of action. She sticks around for her own reasons, as she says in Memento Mori; but those don't exclude the hope that Mulder will someday "settle down, live something approaching a normal life." (Her plans change in All Things-- but she's not there, yet.)

All those years, it was Mulder who was more emotionally distant. He was content with his life, happy to spin tires down the tarmac forever with his partner. Mulder was willing to deny himself into eternity if it meant not having to sacrifice an aspect of the life or career he was comfortable with and nervous to change for 'more.' It's why he was so afraid in Fight the Future and so proud of himself in The Unnatural (the warmup), Amor Fati (the big swing), and Millennium (the victorious homerun.) Scully is the only one-in-five billion he has: in the past, he could tease about passing genetic muster, about his boyish agility, about so much more, but to act on it? It took him four years to initiate a hug (post here) and seven years to approach a label of sorts for their relationship. Mulder's an overly cautious man, more pessimistic than optimistic when it comes to people sticking around; and any traditional, long-term relationship he'd witnessed had broken down or was held together by deadened respect and a few bratty kids.

Now it's Season 7, he's learned his lessons, and they're here, together.

Or were, until Scully dipped on a sketchy roadtrip with their enemy.

Conclusion

The most unrealistic part of this episode (amid a host of several others) was that Scully, despite hearing the drivel CSM peddled the entire drive, decided that he had anything worthwhile to say.

Thank you for reading~.

Enjoy!

[k20spock]

Birds and Trees in Slay the Princess

I saw a few people talking about this, and I’m having thoughts.

So in Slay the Princess, birds and trees are used as symbols of the outside world. Asking the narrator what the end of the world really means has him telling you that there will be no more birds and no more trees. The Razor, when speaking of what she’d like to do in the outside world, says she wants to look at a bird or touch a tree, a desire the Voice of the Hero empathizes with.

These two things, the bird and the tree, symbolize the player and the princess respectively.

The bird is easy. The protagonist is literally a bird creature, and various forms of the princess refers to you as a bird throughout the course of the game. The narrator tells you you’ll be able to look at a bird later, and he’s right: you later get to look at yourself in the mirror.

The princess is the tree. Tree-related imagery is used in several routes. The Witch’s control over the roots of the cabin, The Wild being represented as a network of roots, The Wounded Wild being an open ribcage fused to the trunk of a tree, uprooted trees swirling around The Apotheosis as she ascends, The Thorn trapped in root-like vines, The Beast hiding amongst the trees of the jungle.

The Shifting Mound’s final form resembles a tree visually. The central body as the trunk, the writhing bodies beneath her as the roots, the outstretched arms as the branches.

More than visually, the player and the princess embody the concept of the bird and the tree. In the construct, the narrator gives you a choice and the princess a role to play. The princess is static, something to be acted upon. She has a role in the story, and she has little choice in fulfilling it. You, however, are a creature with free will, the ability to make the decisions. Any change on the princess’s part is a reaction to your actions.

The relationship between different living organisms existing together long-term and the effect they have on each other is called symbiosis. Symbiosis is often incorrectly described as being a relationship between organisms where both benefit. The actual word for that is a specific kind of symbiosis called mutualism. Symbiosis doesn’t haven’t told benefit both parties and indeed, it often doesn’t.

The bird feeds on what the tree provides. The bird spreads the seeds of the tree, allowing it to reproduce and continue its existence. The bird finds shelter in the tree’s branches, and the tree could care less. The bird bores holes into the tree, leaving it vulnerable to disease. The bird consumes and knocks down fruit before it has a chance to ripen, destroying the possibility for new life. The bird keeps the tree free of insects, keeping it safe. The bird perches on new branches not yet strong enough to support them, stunting growth. The bird nests in the corpse of what was once a tree.

Yet no matter what, it is all natural, and all leads to something new eventually. There are no wrong answers.

No matter what, she asks that I tell you to remember her. 

[desceros]

me, innocent, a victim: [goes to look for something in my phone's photoroll] me: [is violently assaulted by gb art] donatello/reader; gn reader; rated t

When you open your eyes, you see, to your shock, Donatello. 

Well. It’s hardly surprising that he’s in your bed, considering he’s been getting pretty good at the whole mind-melting orgasm thing. Maybe half of the nights of your week lately have ended up with your eyes drinking in the sight of him caging you in, your wrists aching with the tightness of his fingers holding them above your head, and your ears singing with the sound of him whining your name when he comes. It’s incredible—he’s incredible—and you’d be pressed picking a time in your life you’ve been happier.

But this. This is… new. 

He’s not wearing his mask. That’s the first thing that catches your attention, once you’re able to move past the totality of his presence in the gentle rays of dawn streaming through your window. He looks… softer, somehow. Different. There’s a closeness to him, physically, literally, that makes you tremble a bit in your very skin. Like you’ve never really been with him before, absurd as it sounds even in your own head. He’s touched you the way no one else has—the way no one else ever, ever will, if you have your way about it—but this. This. 

God. He’s beautiful, you think, gazing at each inch of his uncovered skin and searing it to your mind. You’ve always been attracted to him, but here, it takes your breath away. The curve of his beak beneath his eyes, the angle of his jaw, the squish of his cheek where he’s sleeping on your pillow, the little puffs of air that snooze out with each breath; all of it entrances you, making your lips quiver. 

Slowly, gently, almost hating yourself for it, you reach out. An impossible temptation to resist. The very tips of your fingers on his face, tracing from temple to chin, over and over as you memorize this unseen part of him. Odd, how it feels like you’re pining, yearning for him, when you still feel the aches in your body from how thoroughly he’d had you last night. 

…Though, you suppose, that was him having you. And this is—

—this is you having him. 

Donnie’s lips curl at the corner, and you know you’re busted. Suddenly shy, you fight the urge to pull away, to pretend you weren’t consuming the sight of him. It’s a vulnerable feeling, but you’re rewarded when he opens one eye, blearily meeting your gaze. 

“…Aren’t you usually the one nagging me to sleep?” he says in a mumble, causing you to smile sheepishly. 

“I… couldn’t resist,” you admit quietly, your touch garnering a bit of weight now that he’s awake.

“Had to check and make sure I was real under my mask?” he teases, and it’s tempting to follow him down the path. Tasting bravery on your tongue, you resist. 

“Too handsome not to,” you tell him honestly, cupping his cheek with your palm. You feel the hitch in his breath, the warmth that spreads onto his cheeks even as his scales don’t allow for a blush. “Needed to.” 

Donnie stares for a moment, then gives a breathy laugh, reaching out to grasp your hand from his face and bringing it so he can press a kiss to your palm. This, too, is new—this quiet, non-sexual intimacy. It makes you feel warm, a bit like you’re the one who’s been basking in the sunlight, not him. 

“You’re obnoxiously romantic in the morning, huh?” he murmurs. He doesn’t sound displeased. Giddily, you wiggle closer, feeling him reach out to slide a hand to your back to help pull you close, until only a sigh separates your face and his, your legs so tangled together only the roughness of his scales tells them apart.

“…I could be obnoxiously romantic all the time,” you tell him, looking between his eyes as the other opens, seeing the tender expression on his face. “…If you wanted me to.”

A comforting, familiar, possessive hand cups your nape, his thumb tracing the soft skin beneath your ear. A dazzling glissando of sensation runs along his touch, making your eyes flutter for a moment before you lick your lips and focus on him again. 

Finally, he smiles, an honest little thing that transfigures your heart into a tiny hummingbird. “Yeah,” he says, his tone as warm as the coming morning. “That… sounds great.”

And then, as if sealing a promise, he pulls you close for a kiss even softer than the sheets that ensconce you both. Humming into it, you melt, nuzzling his beak with a lustrous glow beneath your skin. Then—slowly, gently—your fingers again find unmasked skin, loving, claiming, confident now in the long rays of dawn.

[moonchild-in-blue]

Vessel and the New Lore

So the new messages got me thinking and connecting dots. I don't know coherent this will sound, but I think there's something here? Anyways. Something about the relationship Vessel has with himself vs. The Mask.

I thought it'd be interesting to link the parallels between the Room Bellow show and the Fall For Me video messages, with the new ones and the album. Long post ahead so I'll put a cut somewhere.

(This is the second time I'll be writing this cus tumblr decided to be a hoe and deleted my entire draft so if it seems weird, you know. Pro tip: never use the app for long posts.)

Disclaimer: I'm in no way endorsing or encouraging any type of discourse about Vessel's irl identity and/or other [Redacted] and such. Unfortunately I do know things, but not everyone does. Respect the band; don't spoil it for others. If you know, keep it to yourself.

So, starting with the first message:

Mask: Why am I here? What is my purpose in all of this? Vessel: Your purpose is twofold. You protect me, from them, and you also protect them from me. Mask: How is it that I serve to protect anyone from anything, that makes no sense. Vessel: In order for all of this to work there has to be a certain boundary in place. They need to be able to project themselves onto this, without anyone else's identity getting in the way. In turn, I need to be able to show my true self to them in a way that does not compromise their ability to connect. Mask: So that's what I am? A boundary? Vessel: Yes.

We have here a confirmation of what he has told us many times before, either indirectly or not. The Mask/the Vessel persona serves as a way for him to connect and engage with us, while keeping both parties safe. We get to project onto and take from him some sort of comfort and catharsis, without any external factors to influence and skew the way we interpret his music, and He gets to expose and deal with his pain and negative thoughts in a protected environment. Who he is is irrelevant, we're merely here to share and understand each other.

Through the anonymity the mask offers, he is free to be as vulnerable and open with us as he wants, while keeping his identity safely stored away. The Mask serves as the physical reminder of how much we are allowed to know about him, and in return, how far he can (or should) expose himself without compromising his true identity. By living as Vessel and forgetting himself, he is ironically free to bare his most fragile and imperfect parts of himself on display (much like how we're all infinitely more honest about our struggles behind a fake online name than in irl.)

(curiously, this seems to be a contradiction to Higher's second verse, which feeds into the idea that Sleep is not the protector Vessel sometimes claims Them to be - "With all that you believe / You still refuse to shelter me")

From the Room Bellow:

"I experienced a great deal of pain in my life, however I do not believe I have suffered as you have suffered. Perhaps that Is another reason why we are here. At the very least, we have all suffered."

Lore wise, we are told time and time again that Vessel is a "sacred guardian", a messenger, a weapon, a tool - a physical vessel - for Sleep and Their message. He is the answer to Sleep's necessity for connection with us. And for that to work, he willingly gives up his identity for Sleep. For us.

Mask: I don't believe you. I believe there is more to it than that. I believe you are afraid of something. Vessel: We are all afraid of something, are we not? Mask: What is it you are so afraid they will see? Vessel: That I am exactly like everyone else. ... Vessel: I think I am afraid of becoming you. Mask: What does that even mean? Vessel: My life is becoming gradually consumed by you. Before long, all that I am will be contained within you. Then, one day, when I no longer wish to wear you, there will be nothing else left.

"I am afraid, are you afraid? I want to understand what it is to let go." (Fall For Me)

At the end of the day, Vessel is just some guy - he fears, and aches, and bleeds the same as us. We're equals. But as Vessel, he can't allow himself to crack, to break the illusion. As Vessel (and to connect to the lore, as the vessel of a god), he poses as someone we can look up to, someone who's there to carry our pain for us, almost like a symbiotic relationship of sorts - we feed on each other's emotions and energies.

From the Room Bellow:

"To love oneself is not the easy task we are sometimes told it is. (...) My own path towards greater self acceptance is paved with the art that I create. It is a path I continue to stumble down at the expense of everything else."

Without getting too much into it, it seems Vessel/Sleep Token were created as a sort of coping mechanism to deal with whatever it is that He went through. And he seems to have achieved that - he escaped his former self and became "Vessel", someone who's allowed to cry and rage and let his feeling loose. Someone who receives praise and comfort for it, someone who is finally understood.

Except that somehow, that same safety the Mask offered him backfired. Because how can you tell what's you and what's not? It appears that the lines between Vessel vs. Him have blurred beyond recognition. Because "Nothing lasts forever", so once ST ends, and Vessel is no longer a necessity, who does he become? Can he go back to his old self? Is there even a self to go back to?

Do you ever believe that we can turn into different people? It's getting harder to be myself. Do you wish that you loved me? Could we ever release? Is it better to just not feel?

I think it's worth mentioning DYWTYLM. Usually when I listen to it, I just interpret as being about self-love/esteem, suicidal thoughts, insecurities, yada yada yada, BUT! I think it kinda fits this right?? Like a conversation between Vessel and Him, the guy behind the mask.

And really, if you think about it, I think this dialogue is the basis of what TMBTE is. It's Vessel facing all these different facets of himself, the past versions, the ugly sides, coming to terms with them and learning to move on. And in the end, we see he finally does realize, albeit somewhat reluctantly, that there is more to it, than he can "be someone new", even if it means he needs to shed and let go of past versions of himself.

(of course, this is putting aside the whole trilogy and the story we've been told about Sleep/Vessel/Whatever romantic entanglement he was involved in. i'm merely giving this some other meaning and choosing to look through a very specific lens. call it a parallel universe if you want)

It's him accepting that although there may not be a version of himself to come back to, his Eden so to speak, there is finally something more waiting for him. But I'll get more into it later.

Also worth mentioning, this part of conversation-

Mask : Do you think they want you to cry? Do you think they like it? Vessel : Not as such, I think they just want to know that I am feeling something, feeling what they are feeling, perhaps. Mask : Do you think that this amount of crying is healthy for you? Vessel: I don't know. But at least I feel something, if I don't feel anything than why would I even do this?

-seems to be directly co-related to those lines on DYWTYLM. He wonders if maybe would be better not to feel at all, as if really asking himself, "should I continue to live as Vessel?", because that is his/The Mask's function.

(I almost forgot to mention the "Smile back at me" / "I can only ever see them smiling. That's good, I want them to smile." co-relations, but you see where I'm going right?")

Mask: It seems you have forgotten who you are. Before you had me you were nothing. All of this artifice, all this pathetic conjecture about your identity, it is nothing but a manifestation of how short-sighted and solipsistic you have become. I lifted you from misery and obscurity. You would be better to become me. You are nothing without me. You always were nothing without me.

"I am nothing without this music. I am nothing without this mask." (Room Bellow)

Sleep is a dickhead. And there it is - another confirmation of what we all assumed, of what he has also told us many times before in different words. Vessel, or better yet, Him, struggles with imposter syndrome, and a part of him seems to believe his worth is exclusively tied to his ability to create music and perform. Because who matters is Vessel, not Him. The praise and adoration, the glory, belongs to solely Vessel (in-lore, to Sleep).

He does not matter. He is insignificant. He is nothing.

So it makes sense to see how much he wishes to be someone else. How dependent he on his Mask (on Sleep). He can't shed that new identity away, because somehow, it became is ONLY identity. And yet, he knows that one day that must happen. And from a creative/artist standpoint, when you expose yourself the way he does into your art, almost bleeding into it, if that outlet is taken away, you really are left with nothing.

(yall, read the poem "about the PEN conference" by Bukowski).

"The truth is, I am ugly, I am inadequate, I am lost. I am no God." (Fall For Me)

And can I just say, how incredibly heartbreaking it is to hear him talk about himself like that? I have so, so much love and respect for Ves, it's almost ridiculous to think he is only worth the weight of his mask. I would give him a million hugs if I could. Whether or not he still believes that, I hope he one day can look at himself the way we do, and be proud and happy of the amazing human that he is.

I also think that, and this is just me rambling, their sudden explosion to fame must've taken some sort of toll of sorts. It must be SUCH an amazing feeling to see this many people connect and dedicate themselves to something you created, to be able to read between the lines of you thoughts, but it must just equally as scary. Suddenly there's SO many eyes on you, demanding and picking apart every gesture. Viciously clawing at the mask for a glimpse of the fragile soul within. It must not be easy to cope - and this goes to everyone in Sleep Token. They have to deal with so much unfairness, it's disgusting.

Vessel: You. Are. Wrong. In the end, my fractured sense of self was only another piece of fuel for the fire that burns in the eyes of these people before us. They too are pained. They too not know who they truly are. They are each stood alone on a stage of their own. And yet, they are here. United by that sense of never truly belonging. They see something beyond their own bleak horizons. And they reach for it. Together. So let us join now. To reflect their joy and to serve as a conduit for their anguish. To swallow their fear. To Worship.

"So for now let me serve as a living drama of your pain. If we are to be submerged then let us be submerged together." (Fall For Me)

And this is the part that really breaks me. He knows how much we need this, how much we rely on his music, on his words. He fights against his own claims that he has no value - he serves a purpose and that purpose is to serve the audience. Us. To take our struggles, our desires, and make it his own. To basically serve as a sacrifice for our well-being. To suffer, to feel together. To serve as a living drama of OUR pain.

"I will smile through the agony for you".

Because in the end, we're all equally broken. Because that's what the Mask is for, the anonymity, the mystery, the band - for us to "project ourselves" onto him, onto them. They are vessels, servants, worshippers of a god who shelters them; much like how we interact with their music, much like how Vessel thinks his purpose is for.

(and I could expand on this weird worshipper vs worshipee cycle, but i'm tired and i can't ramble on for too long. someone more clever than me feel free to expand)

(a post edit: peep that "fire that burns in the eyes of these people before us" vs "those eyes like fire, I'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre" parallel. Vessel sacrificing himself to us, for us. Performing and being Vessel as something he cannot but feel compelled to do.)

From the Room Bellow:

"We are here to silently collect. To project ourselves onto one-another. We are here to remember. We are here to forget."

WHICH BRINGS US TO EUCLID.

No, by now The night belongs to you This bough has broken through I must be someone new

If we are to take the messages as a complement to the album, then this definitely marks the "shift" in Vessel's perspective. He CAN be more, and he NEEDS to be more. To be new.

The night does not belong to god - it belongs to US. To Him. Not just Vessel, but Him. Obviously this is all speculation, but it really feels like he's ready to let go of so many things, and move on. To renew himself, to stand up and fight. To finally "bite back". He doesn't seem to be completely changed, as there are things he still seems to hold on to (just listen to Euclid). But it´s different now. The "vicious cycle is over."

"They see something beyond their own bleak horizons. And they reach for it. Together. So let us join now."

Vessel seems to emphasize the "collectiveness" of what Sleep Token is and represents quite often. So in a way, it´s him saying "We´ve all suffered together, we've all experienced so many things together, so let us reach for something better as one. Let us all become new. You are not alone in this, and neither am I, so hold on to us and be happy."

WHICH IS!!!!! JUST!!!!!

I think this shift represents something important. My guess, like many others have said, is that Something Big is going to happen in/after Wembley. I don't know what, I don't know if it's truly the end of the road for ST, as many speculate, but something is definitely going to happen. Whatever it is, I hope this is a positive change for them, and specially Vessel, and I am just so so grateful to be part of this amazing community of ours.

(if you read the whole thing, I love you and thank you and I'm sorry. My brain was itching real bad and this had to be let out. Don't take this a proper analysis or whatever, this is me squeezing excess water off the old rag that is my mind)

[callsigns-haze]

Out of All: Chp 9

Jake Seresin x OC! Anna Bradshaw

Brothers' Best Friend Series! Follow along as these characters navigate the treacherous waters of love, loyalty, and desire, all while facing the ultimate taboo: falling for your sibling's best friend. From heart-pounding moments to steamy encounters, this series is a rollercoaster of emotions that will keep you hooked until the very end. Brace yourself for intense romantic tension, sizzling chemistry, and enough drama to keep you guessing. Are you ready to embark on this captivating journey?

This chapter includes explicit sexual content with detailed descriptions of sexual activity and intimacy between characters. Scenes depict physical intimacy, including kissing, touching, and biting, with characters described in states of undress. Emotional intensity is explored, encompassing themes of longing, desire, and vulnerability, with brief references to past trauma. Characters may be shown consuming alcoholic beverages, and mature themes such as casual relationships

Jake sought out a secluded spot, a place where he could have a conversation without the risk of prying ears. The urgency gnawed at him, compelling him to dial your number even though he knew you should be off work by now. His need to hear your voice, to find solace in your presence, outweighed any hesitation.

"Hello?" You answered, the sound of your voice filtering through the phone's speaker, a lifeline in the chaos of his mind.

"Hey, chick," Jake greeted with a relieved smile. Work had been relentless, and he craved the comfort of your voice to ease his burdens. "Hey, Bagman, how's work?" you responded, your own voice a balm to his weary soul. Despite the constant texting, he longed for a genuine conversation with you.

"Stressful, as usual. And please, out of all things, don't call me Bagman," Jake chuckled, grateful for the banter amidst his exhaustion. "Did you book it?" You and Jake had discussed scheduling an appointment to check on the upcoming baby, a step towards ensuring everything was progressing smoothly.

"First of all, if you don't like Bagman, I think I gotta come up with something better, huh?" You teased. "But yes, I called this morning. We have an appointment on your Wednesday off next week at 11:35."

Jake's determination to be present for the baby stemmed from his own painful experiences with his absent father. He was determined to break the cycle, to be the supportive father he never had. Your proactive approach to scheduling the appointment touched him deeply, reaffirming his commitment to this new chapter.

"Chick, I gotta go. Still have a bit to finish up, but will I see you tonight? We could just... talk," Jake hesitated, unsure of your interest but hoping for a chance to connect outside of their usual encounters.

"Yeah, call me when you're ready. I'll come over," you replied, your affectionate tone warming his heart.

"Take care of yourself and our baby, chick," Jake bid farewell, the weight of responsibility mingling with tenderness in his voice.

"Bye, Jake," you responded, a mixture of fondness and exasperation evident in your tone.

Turning back towards the changing rooms, Jake took a moment to gather his thoughts. As he retrieved his helmet, he was confronted by Phoenix, her stern gaze piercing through him.

"Pho-" Jake began, but she cut him off with a dismissive wave. "Save it. You don't need to explain yourself to me. But for God's sakes, Jake! Bradley will kill you, and if you break that kid's heart, I'll with pleasure help Rooster finish you off."

The gravity of her words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the consequences of his actions. With a nod of acknowledgment, Jake steeled himself for the challenges ahead.

--

Opening the door, Jake was greeted by your presence, a small smile gracing your lips. Returning the gesture, he stepped aside, allowing you to enter.

As you slipped off your shoes and made yourself comfortable, Jake made his way to the kitchen, offering you a drink. "Wanna drink? I bought some ginger ale on the way home. I heard it helps with nausea," he suggested, his casual concern catching you off guard.

You stood there, momentarily stunned by his thoughtfulness. His gesture spoke volumes, reflecting a level of care that transcended your current arrangement. "You bought something for... me?" you asked, incredulous yet touched by his gesture.

"Yeah, I guess I did," Jake replied with a sheepish grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners with warmth.

"I'd really love some of it," you admitted, a soft smile tugging at your lips as he poured you a glass and fetched a beer for himself.

The simple act of sharing a drink felt significant, a tangible connection that belied the complexities of your situation. Despite the unconventional circumstances, you couldn't deny the bond forming between you.

"Chick, you free on Friday?" Jake's sudden question caught you off guard, his nervousness betraying a vulnerability rarely seen in him.

"Yeah, why?" you replied, curiosity piqued by his uncharacteristic demeanor.

His request hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications. "Can I take you out. Properly this time?" Jake finally asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Like a date?" you ventured, your heart fluttering at the possibility.

"Only if you want to," Jake responded, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

"What if I do?" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

"Then yeah. Just like a date," Jake affirmed, a smile of relief spreading across his face as he dared to hope for something more.

tagging:

@callsign-magnolia

@shanimallina87

@callsign-dexter

@horseslovers2016

@rosiahills22

@djs8891

@hookslove1592

@emma8895eb

@hardballoonlove

@kmc1989

@dempy

@mamachasesmayhem

@senawashere

@buckysteveloki-me

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@itsmytimetoodream

@jessicab1991

@ahh-chickens

@dingochef

@dizzybee03

@mrsevans90

@lynnevanss

[foxglovebells]

Lost Star (Part 3)

Azriel x Rhysand!Sister Reader

Summary: Rhys’s mother and sister, Y/n, were kidnapped and murdered by Tamlin’s family centuries ago. Everyone mourned their deaths but especially Azriel. His mate’s death had changed him and he was never truly the same, he still held onto the hope that you were still alive. Turns out he was right.

Warnings: None

Notes: More parts to come. Also this isn’t edited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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

Azriel scoured over everything he could find to prepare himself for this mission. He found every single piece of information he could on this ancient metal. He scoured over blue prints of spring, the ones that dated back early enough to include the magic shelter the inner circle believed you were being kept in.

It was difficult for him to wait, but he knew the delayed gratification would be worth it when he held his mate in his arms again.

“Az,” Rhys poked his head into the living room; which had been covered in books and papers from Azriel’s studies.

He lifted his head up from where he was scanning over the paper with all the important details he had gathered from these past few days. “Yes?”

“Are you ready?” Rhysand asked him genuinely. He stepped over to his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder as a comforting gesture.

“I don’t know.” Azriel looked up to the brother of his mate with emotion clouding his eyes. “What if she’s not there. What if we got our hopes up for nothing.”

Rhys’s heart broke for his brother at the vulnerability in his eyes. “I know, but I have a feeling about this.”

Azriel had some doubts, but he didn’t want to think too hard into it.

He takes a deep breath and rises to his full height, shaking out his cramped wings in the process.

“We’re going to get her back, Az.” Rhys looked him directly in the eyes.

“We’re going to get her back.”

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

You hum softly to yourself as you pace around your cramped quarters. Something had you on edge, you don’t know if it’s the good kind or the bad kind.

You hadn’t been able to get anymore magic past the barriers since that day you had asked the human girl for help. Years had past since then.

You stopped pacing and instead opted to walk over to tiny kitchenette that consisted of a sink, stove, kettle, and pantry that magically restocked itself. Of course, the only thing that was in it was some slop that you knew had just enough nutrition to keep you alive.

You poured a small mug of hot water in hopes to minimize the chill in your bones. Though, no matter how much hot water you consumed you were still always cold.

You walked over to your small cot and curled up, the blanket a useless lump on the frigid floors. You leaned your head back against the wall and closed your eyes, trying to drift off to a land of happiness. One where you were happy with your mate and your family, one where you were never trapped in the metal prison.

Tears ran down your cheeks as you mourned the loss of what your could have had. What you wanted so badly.

Just then you heard a hum, a magical hum. You knew for sure that you weren’t using magic. So where was the hum coming from? You no longer allowed anything to raise your hopes, because each time you did, it hurt more and more when they came crashing down.

You felt your chest tighten all of a sudden. You nearly vomited from the feeling. Snapping your eyes open and dropping the ceramic mug in shock. You stood up as tears welled in your eyes.

So you sat and closed your eyes again. Ignoring the hum and holding on to the new wave of hope.

The mating bond

You felt it. For the first time in 2 centuries you could feel your other half. And he was here, he was trying to get you out.

You hesitantly pulled on the string that was once again aglow. You waited a moment and then you felt a tug back. Oh thank the cauldron!

The humming became louder and louder until suddenly and outline the shape of a door appeared on the wall furthest from you. You stood deathly still, waiting for the door to open and to see if it truly was your mate on the other side coming to rescue you.

In the case that it wasn’t, you grabbed a shard of broken mug from the ground and stood and waited.

After the longest minute of your life the door slowly pushed open.

At first, all you saw was dark shadows in a frenzy. They exploded into the room and searched every nook and cranny. But once the shadows thinned, you came face to face with the one person you had thought you would never see again.

“Azriel.”

A choked noise escaped your mate’s throat as he gazed upon you. He covered the distance between the two of you in 2 long strides but didn’t yet touch you.

“Y/n, my little star.” He gazed upon you like you would disappear again.

A sob left your mouth and then finally did he gather you up into his arms and hold you to him like you would disappear again if he stopped.

His nose was buried in your neck as he took in the scent of you that he had missed for so long. One of his arms was wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping your body pressed tight against his, the other was cradling your head, so, so gently.

His could feel tears leaking out of his eyes, and feel your tears falling against the bare skin of his neck. Your hands were running through his soft hair like they once did whenever he needed comfort. It was a bit shorter now. Still long, but not unruly and unkept like it once had been.

“Please, get me out Azzy, I can’t be here anymore.” You whispered painfully against his neck.

He took immediate action and winnowed out of the long time prison. As soon as you reached the outside air you felt an immense relief. Your magic had returned to you, rushing back into your body as if too had missed you. The bond was as strong as ever. You were free.

You pushed against Azriel’s chest, he reluctantly let you go. But still kept the arm wrapped around your waist firmly in place and moved the hand cradling your head to rest softly on your cheek, his thumb wiping away the stray tears.

You placed the both of your hands on either side of his face. Looking over every old scar your remembered and every new scar you didn’t. His eyes were so sad. It made another wave of tears gather in your eyes.

“I’ve missed you so much.” You whisper, trying to meet his eyes through the tears.

“I know, love, I know, all that matters is that you came back to me.” He smiles so gently at you. “You’re safe now.”

And for the first time in 2 centuries a smile lifts on your face too.

You continue to hold his head in your hands and you leans forward to press a gentle kiss to his right cheek, then his left, then the new scar on his forehead that you didn’t recognize, then his nose, and his chin, then to the corner of his mouth, and finally pulling away you looked him in the eye one last time before you leaned in and press your lips against his.

You both sighed in relief. You kiss each other gently, savoring the returned feeling. Never crossing any other boundaries. Just being there with each other.

When you pulled away he rests his forehead against yours and you both close your eyes. “Let’s go home now, okay?” Azriel said quietly.

You nodded your head and wrapped your arms around his neck, he lifts you into a comfortable position and shoots into the sky.

After 2 centuries, 18 years, 4 months, 2 weeks, and 5 days, you finally going home.

[thehothcast]

cassian andor general romance hcs

word count: 994

warnings: none, just a miniscule reference to sex

message from the authors: first post on the account! love that for us. we both (okay just me, fine - grace) went a little feral writing these, enjoy the show! (i was moral support for grace and additional idea giver, hope u love! - rosa)

ok so! i think cass is very easily scared off when it comes to this kind of thing: love. he’s skittish when he’s unsure, and although romantic dalliances aren’t new to him, approaching a situation where he’s not privy to if you reciprocate or even if you ever could, is new to him. he’s always been the one in control of the dynamic, or at the very least an equal, with both participants on the same page (or thereabouts, see him and bix i suppose.)

the man seems a lil avoidant, like he’s just wary of people in general so i'm not so sure how well he’d respond to hearing from a third party that you had a crush on him, whether that be a close friend of yours or an unfamiliar group of fellow rebels. he’d immediately feel like expectations were being pushed onto him and people were anticipating him to react in a certain way. he doesn’t like that, it feels like someone's yanked open the curtains that were obscuring him from the bright light of perception? so even though he returns your feelings for sure, he’s not going to react well to that kind of direct address/situation and would most likely pull away from you in an attempt to take back the control he feels he’s lost.

in the end i think if one of you were to make a move to further the relationship, it would have to be him because he doesn’t like feeling caught off guard or put on the spot. even then, he’s definitely not confessing the true extent of his fondness for you (even though it totally consumes him, this is a man that feels deeply, just look at those eyes babe). 

cassian is someone who expresses their love through actions and deeds, not so much words, at least not immediately, that’s a little too vulnerable for him at the moment.

let's be honest, his version of getting the message across to you is patting you on the shoulder and telling you “that’s really good” as he oversees your group’s blaster training. like the affection is there and you totally get free passes where others don’t, but overall there’s really nothing concrete to suggest he thinks of you as anything other than a friendly comrade, which is probably how he likes it for now.

again, addressing it head on either by yourself or having another person plant the notion into his mind is not the way to go about this. he’s like a stray animal, you see him from across the street and desperately want to pull him close and love up on him, but even the most careful approach will have him skirting away from you in a flash after one wrong move.

honestly the only way to go about this i think is to just let him do his own thing, find a quiet and subtle way let him know you’re open and will be waiting with open arms, and he’ll come to you eventually. i’d say he’d come to you in his own time, and I wouldn't be lying but let's be honest, that first really meaningful look (see elevator scene in rogue one 😩) and pleading of your name is going to come in a moment of high-stakes and danger. what can I say, there's nothing like a life threatening situation in which either one or both of your lives are in jeopardy and desperation and stress infect every decision made, to provoke a momentary lapse in resolve and allow some painfully concealed concern and devotion to seep out of one's every orifice <3.

then there’s the subject of his name. obviously he introduces himself as cassian (unless he’s undercover but that’s a whole other can of worms, you’d get there in the end), so you’ve not really any reason to suspect otherwise until you pose an innocent question about the origins of his name, which leads him to hesitantly surrender his birth name to you. this is only something he’d ever consider doing if he truly, deeply trusted you and felt ready to open up even just a little bit. again, it’s all in his own time, there’s no pushing cassian. psst, don’t be afraid of using his real name, he’ll answer to it…just pick the right moments iykyk

when on missions, clashes tend to happen. cassian believes he knows best (and maybe he does. he probably does lets be fr we’re dumbos), so you’ll every now and again notice him speaking for you or making decisions on your behalf. obviously as an independent entity, this will most likely get on your nerves so it’s an issue that’ll have to be addressed in a sit down session with him. he honestly doesn’t mean it in a controlling way, he probably sees it as him relieving you of any unnecessary burdens, so you’ll have to make it clear to him you’d appreciate it if he lets you stand on your own 2 feet and would, well… for a lack of a better phrase, ‘just butt out’. at the end of the day, you’d rather be equals, partners in crime, not so much some micromanaged talent. come on, it’s understandable cass.

just for funsies... he’s probably unbuttoned his shirt a little more than necessary at least once. just to see if you’d respond to it. he’d seen the style begin to take off amongst the more cocksure pilots (that’s what he tried to tell himself. it was really just fueled by a shy desire to have you look at him like that, like the rebel full of swagger that he knows he isn't). it lasted a grand total of 12 hours before he caught a glimpse of his reflection and cringed a little bit, vanity be damned. the next time you saw him, his shirt was buttoned back up all the way again and he will never acknowledge the fact ever again. 

[mrsgiovanna]

Fighting Imperfections (Don Giorno x Wife!Reader)

I'm sorry, this is just me projecting. I can't remember if I posted this before, but here goes.

Word count: 1.2 k

Warnings: sad, self depreciating reader.

You sighed heavily as you walked out the last of Giorno’s guests. Normally the murmurs of how beautiful of a couple you two are would make you beam with joy, but today it annoyed you because it only amplified your insecurities. Another day… of smiling through the alternating pain and emptiness. Your cheeks hurt, but the physical pain was welcomed, it was so much easier to bear than the ache that thumped in your chest with every heartbeat- a painful reminder that you were still breathing. As the last car rounded the corner away from your luxurious home, your shoulders finally slumped and you trudged away from the door. The master bedroom was one of the few places where you felt safe enough to let your tumultuous emotions wash over you, so there you went.

You had struggled with these negative emotions for many years, losing chunks of time to this unshakeable melancholy. They were difficult to predict or counter. You had locked the door behind you, wanting to try and restore some semblance of calm to your demeanor before facing Giorno again. You threw off the gorgeous designer dress and took a shower before throwing on something soft and comfortable. You had every intention of rejoining your husband but just getting yourself through that little routine had drained whatever energy you had left. He'd be better off catching up with your shared associates though, you mused, feeling as though you wouldn't add anything valuable to their video conferences. Firmly tucked away, drawing your knees towards your chest, you allowed the floodgates to open and let everything out. Usually, a good cry would take care of some of the negative emotions, but this time, it didn't seem to work.

Intrusive thoughts about the worst scenarios plagued your mind despite trying to push them aside. You tried thinking about the good things and how much you had been blessed with but it always morphed into a scenario in which you would ultimately be left alone… so you thought about Giorno and how he makes a daily promise to never leave your side. But you had lost so much, what if he was just lying to you and you'd eventually have to deal with losing him too…

No…

You took as deep a breath as your constricted chest would allow you to and tried to focus your attention on something positive.

Giorno… you thought of him more and your heart ached for a different reason. He loved you, you knew that, but your mind had always managed to convince you that he would be better off with someone else, someone beautiful and vibrant, someone worthy of him because beneath it all you're just a broken doll. The repair is near perfect and nobody can see the fault lines where you cracked, but you feel every fracture, constantly reliving each event that put the cracks there in the first place.

You felt the bed sink on one side as a large comforting hand rubbed your back in circles before pulling back the covers you had buried yourself under.

"You know I'd end anyone who hurts you?"

"I know…"

"So what do I do when you're the one hurting yourself?"

Giorno's glassy eyes didn't leave your face, searching for an answer to his question.

You met Giorno's gaze, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and love in his eyes. His concern was evident, and it touched you deeply. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you reached out and held his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice filled with raw emotion. "I don't want to hurt myself, but sometimes it feels like I can't escape these thoughts. They consume me, and I can't help but doubt myself, doubt our love."

Giorno's grip on your hand tightened, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. "You are not a broken doll, my love," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "You are the most beautiful and resilient person I know. I fell in love with every part of you, including the cracks. They are a part of your story, a testament to your strength."

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words resonated with you. It was moments like these that reminded you why you fell in love with him in the first place. He saw beyond your insecurities and loved you unconditionally.

"I'm trying, Giorno," you replied, your voice wavering. "I'm trying to believe in myself, in us. But sometimes it's overwhelming."

Giorno leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "You don't have to go through this alone," he assured you. "I'm here for you, always. We'll face these demons together, and I'll do whatever it takes to help you heal."

Feeling his love and support envelop you, a glimmer of hope sparked within your heart. With Giorno by your side, maybe you could overcome these insecurities and find the peace you longed for.

You snuggled closer to Giorno, seeking solace in his comforting presence. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. "I love you."

Giorno smiled softly, his eyes filled with warmth. "I love you too, more than words can express," he replied, his voice laced with sincerity. "Remember, we are a team, and together, we can conquer anything."

Giorno's gaze held a mixture of tenderness and longing, mirroring the emotions swirling within you. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, seeking permission and reassurance. You met his gaze, the unspoken understanding between you palpable.

With a gentle nod, you closed the remaining distance between your lips, initiating a kiss that conveyed both vulnerability and passion. It was a kiss that spoke of shared burdens and unyielding support, a tangible connection that transcended words.

The kiss deepened, as if pouring all the love and reassurance you both felt into this single act. It was a moment of solace, a reminder that you were not alone in your struggles. Each brush of your lips conveyed a promise—a promise to heal together, to support one another, and to cherish the imperfect beauty of your shared journey.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the tenderness of the moment. The world outside your bedroom faded away, leaving only the two of you, entwined in a cocoon of love and understanding.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and yet more at peace than before, you found solace in Giorno's eyes once again. There, in the depths of his gaze, you saw unwavering devotion and a fierce determination to help you find happiness.

With a small smile, you whispered, "Thank you, Giorno. Thank you for loving me."

Giorno's voice was filled with sincerity as he replied, "Always, my love. Always."

And in that moment, you believed him. You believed in the power of love to heal and overcome and to create a future where your insecurities would no longer hold you captive. Together, you would face whatever challenges lay ahead, guided by the strength of your bond and the depth of your love.

As you lay in his arms, you allowed yourself to believe in his words, finding solace in the love and support he offered. The journey towards healing would be challenging, but with Giorno by your side, you knew you could face anything that came your way. In the sanctuary of his embrace, his presence soothed your troubled mind, and a moment of quiet intimacy enveloped the room. The weight of your insecurities and pain began to fade as you focused solely on the love between you, knowing that in this imperfect existence, you had found a love that was flawless.

[bangtaninborderland]

PAIRING: ot7 x reader Il WORD COUNT: 8.8k I| GENRE: smut-rated 18+

prev I masterlist | next ->

WARNINGS: Dom!yoongi Dom!jimin, mention of pet play, fingering, marking (with a pen), oral (f receiving), oral (m receiving), impact play, talk of non sexual dominance, mentions of punishment, orgasm denial, choking (slight), use of term “daddy”/ “sir”

Vote Now (fan favourite, elimination)

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long I felt really deflated after the last upload as if it wasn’t good enough so I wanted to take my time with this I still don’t feel 100% about it but I didn’t want to keep everyone waiting and with the sad news about jin I wanted to give everyone something to be excited about. No matter what please stay happy and healthy, I will be doing a Christmas special of a few one shots based in this universe, a vminkook scene taking place in this chapter being one of them.

Day Thirty Five

There was a comfortable familiarity with the way you woke up, random pillows thrown around, blankets ranged between bodies.

Taehyung had curled around Namjoons legs, his frame although bigger seemed much smaller in this state, naturally protective over the younger. Jungkook was laying across Yoongi, his hand draped on the elders face as if he had hit him in the night, Hoseok was farther away. Opting to sleep on the couch instead of on the makeshift bed you had all thrown together last night after a spur of the moment decision to watch a horror movie, one you may have slightly regretted after seeing how many times Jin and Hobi cowered at the way the music would twist into something eerie.

You hadn’t missed the absence of Jimin amongst those asleep, it was rare for him to be awake at this hour especially when the sun was barely gracing the morning sky, you could always have laid back down but you knew it would be futile to try to sleep again.

You manoeuvre around the sleeping figures, the light snores notifying you that you hadn’t disturbed them awake in your attempt to seek out

You could see the kitchen was empty and whispering for his attention would be pointless, there was no way he would be able to hear you so you turn on your heels, heading for the stairs.

Your heart skips a little as you see Jimins door open, a dim light on inside. You scrap the idea to disturb him the second you notice him leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed on the outside, the window in his room that usually stayed shut in fear of bugs had been opened. He had forgone a shirt and donned only pair of grey sweatpants that clung to his dainty waist.

You wanted to ask what he was doing awake so early but for a few more seconds you decide to let yourself enjoy the view similar to how he was.

You could feel the light breeze whisk around your legs, sending a shiver down your spine. Your shuffled footsteps alert Jimin to your presence.

“Are you having fun watching me?” He smirks, pulling to window closed an action of which you was silently thankful for.

You walk towards him tiptoeing across the room, his arms wrap around your waist as yours do his neck. You mumble a small “yes”, his body much warmer than yours.

Swallowing, you press your forehead against his, wanting to be close to him. He welcomes the sudden contact sensing you needed comfort. “What’s wrong with you today hmm?” He asks, his tone soft.

You squeeze your arms around him tighter, forbidding him to move. “Missed you.” You barely breathe the words before his lips are resting against yours, the usual dominance that dances across his mouth is gone, an endearing vulnerability splayed for you to see. You feel your lungs clawing for some oxygen but you ignore it, allowing the kiss to consume you.

The whine that falls from your lips when he pulls away isn’t cute, It’s desperate. “Needy for me baby?” Jimin asks, a hand lazily running up and down your side, encouraging the goose bumps beginning to form across your skin. You revel in the way he skims your hip with his finger, hastily dipping it beneath the thin waistband of your shorts.”

“Don’t tease me minnie.” You halfheartedly beg, a daring tone to your voice. Deciding to play the damsel in distress. “Whatever will I do.”

“You’ll do whatever I say little mouse.” Jimin instructs. You nod, unable to do anything else against his intimidating form.

Your eyes glaze over as he leans down to place his lips against yours, the softness he held earlier was gone, replaced with something much more feisty. His free hand tightens around your throat, not enough to restrict your oxygen but enough to remind you of his power.

As he steps away, your eyes flutter open weakly, a quiet whimper making its way to the surface as you reach out to pull him back, his hands wrapping around your wrists forcing you to stop. “Shorts off, on your knees.” His command is direct, you knew you had a choice wether it was vocalised or not but in this moment you wanted him. You wanted to drink in the pleasure he would give you, because, despite your orgasms the night before you was still desperate, the throb between your legs an undeniable sign of just that.

Even though things had been resolved you still wanted to earn your own, so you follow his command but not before making a comment that you knew would push him.. “You’re so mean… Hoseok would have had me cumming by now but then again…you always did like teasing me.”

You see the way his back stiffens at your comment and for a moment you regret it, that is until he turns around. A deceiving smile plastered across his face, you take note of the pen in his hand. Was this his prompt?

His hand caresses your head, his fingers lightly tugging at your hair. The hight difference between you noticeable now you’re on your knees. “Care to repeat that?”

You knew you shouldn’t but you couldn’t help it. “I said that Hosoek would have made me cum already.” His grip tights unexpectedly you stutter the next works, your confident facade cracking at his touch. “T-that you l-like to tease me.”

He lets out a amused laugh, the sound blissful but dark enough to make you want to grind against the floor in want.

He maps the side of your face with a finger; his actions slower than you’d like, He directs his digit along your cheekbone, his thumb replacing it as he pushes down against the parting of your lips, naturally you accept the way his thumb slips between them. Your lips tightening around, not entirely sucking it but swirling your tongue around it enough to earn an almost nonexistent moan from him.

“Maybe you’re too cock hungry to think straight so I’ll let that comment go for now, lay down on my bed, keep your hands at your side and face the ceiling. If you so much as move an inch I’ll punish you until you can’t walk straight for a month.” He lilts, his fingers dropping from your mouth.

Head swimming with filthy thoughts you carry out your given tasks, falling back onto the bed, the messy blankets acting as a safety mat.

Every shift of his movements keep you alert, your ears trying to hear all the things you cannot see. His command of you staring up at the ceiling unable to move proving more difficult as his body dips into the bed beside you, the desire to see him almost overtaking any rationality of punishment that you could earn from doing so.

His sweatpants had been discarded, his grey boxers acting as the only barrier between your body and his, the pen he had been earlier had been uncapped, the black marker swirling between his fingers as he leans over you. “You’re so beautiful, how about we write some pretty words over you huh? Leave you something a little more permanent to help you remember the way I make you feel.”

The ability to formulate sentences becomes unattainable in that moment, you’d agree to whatever he said as long as it meant he would touch you. “Write whatever.” You can’t help but focus on the way his knee presses between your legs, providing you with just enough friction to keep you on the edge, not enough to make you cum but enough to make you desperately want to rut against him yearning for something more.

The pen feels faint against your skin, the back of his hand brushing over your nipple as he decorates your form, the only attention he gives you comes in the form of a sharp look when you attempted to shift a little hoping to relieve some of the pressure building within you.

You bite down on your lip hoping to muffle the groan stuck in your throat as he leans in towards your ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck as the marker swirls around your collarbone his breath hot as he whispers a single warning “Stop moving before I tie you up in a way that leaves you completely spread and helpless.”

No matter how much you try to see what he draws across your skin you can’t, completely unaware of whatever had been etched into you as he pulled back, capping the marker before throwing it in some unknown direction, you didn’t care much. Not now his attention was returned to you in full.

“Now was that so hard little mouse?” He taunts his voice holding a level of sympathy that could only be seen as fake.

“Yes minie.” You whine, your hands automatically reaching out to pull him closer.

He doesn’t complain, instead letting his lips drag across your nipple before licking it. You feel your body shiver beneath him, something he chuckles at. “So needy for me baby but so good and patient, let’s take care of you now. Spread your legs for me.”

You don’t think twice, you drop your legs open.

“Tell me what you want.” He sighs, running a finger over your hip.

Your words are breathless, light. “You, I want you.”

His voice is soothing, the trail he draws with his fingers following suit. “What part of me do you want?”

“Fingers.” The words sounded blunt but you couldn’t help it, the drive to be touched taking priority in your mind.

Hearing your wanton need, something inside Jimin snaps. He nods once before he teases his fingers at your entrance, heat consuming you as he keeps his eyes on your face to watch your expression shift and change when starts to move his fingers in and out of your pussy, his thumb drawing around your clit.

His breath is heavy as you let out soft moans, your hands gripping around his bicep involuntarily, something that helps ground you even if you are lost in indescribable pleasure.

You pull him closer to you, his tongue lazily parting your lips as he sucks at them, his teeth grazing them dangerously. “Jimin.” You moan against him, grinding yourself down on his fingers.

His praises echo through you, a smile tugging at your lips knowing you’re pleasing him so much. “Such a good girl for me letting me use you like this.”

“Mo-more please more Ji-.” You barely get the words out before he lets out a rough growl, flipping you over with rough hands, your face becoming buried in that of his white sheets.

“You are welcome to cum if you want to but I will not stop until I finish, understand?” He smacks your ass hard enough to make you jump, the light burning only encouraging your already overwhelming arousal.

“I understand.” You confirm. Your hand reaching back, he seems to understand and laces his fingers in with your own.

Your vulnerability in this position doesn’t go amiss, although it’s one you had been in multiple times it made you feel different, exposed.

Almost as if he senses your feelings he leans down, pressing his mouth against your ear whispering “Colour?”

“Green?” You respond but it sounds more like a question, something he too notices.

“Look at me.” His voice is soft but still holds a sense of power, you turn your body enough to be able to see him, his eyes searching across your face for something.

“What’s wrong?” You ask coyly although you knew exactly why he had paused.

“I need you to be very sure that you want to continue this right now, if you have any worries or doubts we will stop. I never want you to do something you are not comfortable with.” He explains running a carful finger over your cheek, making you blush.

You’re thankful for the breather and the chance to think but the way your body still craves his touch and waiting seems impossible, you turn back around, resuming your position. “I want this.” You giggle, wiggling you ass in the air.

“Fuck you’re amazing.” He presses a kiss to your ass cheek before pulling your hips closer to him, you can feel his pants had been removed as his cock bumps against your thigh. “Are you ready baby girl?”

“Ready.” You wiggle your ass at him a second time, “hurry.”

You feel yourself gasping for breath as the lube Jimin had surprised you with ran over your cunt, the coldness to it making you both wince and whine. “Cold.” You murmur.

“Want me to make it better?” He aligns himself with your enter act, the tip of his cock rubbing against your lips.

“Mm’ please.” You reach back, his fingers once again interlocking with yours as he presses himself inside of you.

He wastes no time pacing his thrusts, each one of them tougher than the last. The only sounds being made from your bodies moving together . Jimins hands shake even as he wrapped them up in the strands of your hair forcing your head back as he pounds your pussy.

Only soft groans and grunts passing by Jimins lips as he savors how good your cunt feels around his cock, his noises sounding strangled as his pace picks up. Your legs grow weaker as he fucks into you, your own orgasm building.

“God - right - fuck.” Your head arches back in synch with his hand as you move your hips, matching his thrusts. He slows for a second before fucking you forward deep and hard with each stroke. Each time, making you gasp for air as your hand fists the sheets.

“S’good, such a good doll for me” Jimin manages, releasing his hold on your hair, choosing to land a few spanks against the skin of your ass. The pain being pleasant.

“Your doll.” You moan out, trying to hold on, hoping to pleasure Jimin first, but that coil in your gut is already threatening to snap making it hard to do so.

Overwhelmed is starting not to be a strong enough word to describe how the man makes you feel as he grows confident in the way he fucks. His thrusts becoming erratic, harder, faster. You feel his nails digging into your hips, marks beginning to form but you pay them no mind, focusing on throwing your ass back on him.

“Gon’ cum minie.” You babble, your head flopping itself back as your orgasms tears through you like an electric shock, you don’t even have time to come down before his cock resumes its abusive thrusts against your sensitive spot. You lay there unable to move feeling tears draining your face, jimin becoming uncoordinated as he chases his own pleasure, unaware of the blissful way you feel fucked out, your protests going unheard as he continues to slam into you.

“Want me to cum in you?” He asks his Hips stuttering.

“Whatever you want.” You moan breathlessly, your eyes rolling back, overstimulation setting your senses on fire.

You feel the moment he cums, the warmest flooding inside of you, his body going slump against your back, both of you collapsing together, as the room becomes quiet apart from the heaving breaths you both let out.

“So fucking perfect for me.” He breaths against your back, kisses being placed across your most likely sweaty skin.

“Love you minie.” You whisper, your fingers still entwined.

“I love you too. Although you may want to take a look in the mirror.” He rolls off of you, allowing you the freedom to move.

You groan. “What did you write on me?”

“Words.” He quirks a brow, letting out a tired chuckle.

“My legs aren’t working enough for me to check, tell me?” You ask turning into his body.

His pulls the sheets over you, his fingers twirling around your nipples, not in a provocative way but in a way that’s soothing. “I wrote my name on your hip, doll across your left boob, and pretty little slut across your stomach. Isn’t that lovely of me?” He kisses your forehead.

“Very lovely.” You agree, your voice smaller as you feel your eyelids growing heavy.

“And what do we say when someone does something nice?”

“nkyou minie.” You barely hear the words, allowing sleep to take over just for a few moment you promise yourself.

—

“Baby?” A whisper wakes you up, a light shaking both disturbing and soothing.

“mmm?” You slur, pretty sure you had began drooling but too tired to care.

“We need to get you cleaned up it’s midday already, you haven’t ate have you?” You let your eyes flutter open, despite the deep routed desire you have to keep them firmly shut, the dream you was basking in just a border away.

“No food.” You sigh, shaking your head against Jimins now clothed chest.

“I ran you a bath, want me to carry you?” His voice is delicate, calm.

“You did break my legs so that’s the least you could do.” You giggle wrapping your arms around his neck as he secures his underneath your frame. The blanket you had wrapped around you keeping you covered.

“Didn’t hear you complaining, I’m pretty sure everyone heard you rather enjoying yourself.” You bury your head into the crook of his neck, desperate to conceal the flush of crimson covering your cheeks.

“Oh god did they really?”

“Yoongi Hyung did. He asked if you wanted him to come wake you up but I thought I’d be selfish and steal a few more minuets with you.” He kisses the back of your head as he places you on the heated floors of your bathroom, the bath already filled with bubbles, the scent of the vanilla candles, Jimins choice no doubt, set a relaxing state.

“You’re very much a gentlemen arent you Mr Park?” You tease.

“Aren’t I always?” He winks, his eyes disappear as he smiles. “I’ll be downstairs, want me to ask Jin Hyung to make you something?” He asks, his hand hovering over the door handle.

“No don’t bother him, tell Yoongi he can come up if he wants too.” You wave him off, dropping the blanket.

“If you wanted a round two you should have asked.” He chides back, his plump lips twisting into something that could be considered as sinister grin to someone who didn’t know the man.

“Shut up!” You shout, shooing him away.

The water provides you with some much needed muscle relaxant, you don’t miss the scent of the bath salts that Taehyung had shown you a few days ago, he must have added them. He probably knew of your escapade with Jimin this morning. You made a mental note to ask him for a massage, his hands always knew what to do in more ways then one and after all the embarrassing comments that were sure to be made from your house mates you deemed that you had earned it.

You had barely finished washing yourself as a soft knock at the door alerted you that you wasn’t alone.

“Come in!” You shout, much louder than necessary.

You turn your head, watching the man saunter in, a black long sleeve rolled up around his arms. He still looked delectable even if he only donned house wear.

The doctor makes no effort to hide his happiness at having alone time with you, as much as he loved the other members in the house he was always thankful to garner some one on one time with you.

“Hey sweetheart, rough morning?” He quirks an eyebrow suggestively as he perches on the edge of the bathtub.

You groan playfully, splashing him with water. “Don’t start.”

“I wasn’t planning to but keep up that attitude and we can change that.” He sounds unbothered, his fingers scaling the side of your leg within the water.

You hum, unable to come up with a sufficient reply.

“Are you okay? I know this week has been a little more stressful than any of us anticipated.” He muses, his voice baritone.

You mull the question over for a second, your hands creating small waves in the tub. “I guess so, it was a lot but I feel better not. I want things to go back to normal.”

“Do you ever wish you didn’t come here?” He asks, his eyes fixated on you, his hand half heartedly massaging your knee.

“No” you respond instantly. “I don’t ever wish that but sometimes I wish it was just us, no cameras, no competition, no worries or work. As unrealistic as that sounds sometimes i think that would be so easy.” You digress the random thought you was withholding. In all honest you couldn’t say you hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t thought about the numerous outcomes of your situation. You had wondered if you’d be okay with someone else being in your position and from the way your stomach twisted with unease you knew you wasn’t.

Although it would be easier if you didn’t have to chose who to vote off every week but then again maybe that was your own desires being somewhat self absorbent.

“I’m glad you don’t. I think the same sometimes, I wish we could all go on being an unending gay happy family.” He claps in the air making you laugh. “But unfortunately we have lives outside of here. I do hope we can all maintain this, what we have built between us.”

“You mean the sex or the emotions.” You ask basking in the momentum of the moment.

He rolls his eyes playfully slapping a hand over his heart. “How could you ever think so lowly of me.”

You laugh with him for a minute before the room falls to silence, the water no longer warm but you don’t want to disturb this moment. It’s rare you get such privacy with the guys. “Do you remover our talk in the first week? You said you was lonely, that you couldn’t decide if you still felt that way even though you had us all here.”

He nods, the cogs of his brain turning. “I think back then it was very new, a new place filled with 7 other individuals who vary from one another in the best way and somehow we all make it work. That loneliness I felt because of my career; was something I may have indulged myself in and being here changed that for me. It allowed me to have a different perspective on the way I viewed life as a whole. I don’t feel lonely anymore.”

You appreciate the way he answers things with so much emotion and consideration, every word still as meaningful as the day you had first spoke about this topic. “I used to feel out of place sometimes, in the beginning I worried so much about hurting one of you, about loosing one of you because of my decisions and I worried for a while it would stop me being able to really enjoy my time here but I don’t feel like that any more. As much as I wish it was just us 8 and maybe Sejin outside, I don’t even notice the cameras anymore, voting people out isn’t easy but I don’t feel that fear anymore. I know we will be okay.” You tack on the last comment, unsure wether it was said to reassure him or you.

“You’re beautiful.” He responds simply, his hand coming to brush away a stray strand of hair that had worked its way onto your forehead. “Your mind is too.”

“Why Thankyou Doctor Min.” You admire the way his eye holds a rare sparkle to them.

Both you and yoongi keep the conversation going for another 10 minuets, the conversation more serious than usual but still playful enough that you managed to laugh.

“Do you want something for lunch? I don’t mind cooking.” He stands, holding a towel to you as you step out of the Luke warm water.

You nod your head, the hunger pangs in your stomach no longer deniable. He seems please with it, earning yourself a shy smile from him accompanied with a soft kiss to your hand as he leaves the room, allowing you privacy. You dress quickly. It’s not like anyone watched the show for your fashion sense.

The living room floor is mostly clear of the blankets that coated it just a few hours ago, Tae and Jungkook sat fussing in front of the tv, discussing something about Jungkooks latest stream. You considered heading over there before noticing Joon slumped in his chair, the signs of tiredness written across his face.

“How’s it going?” You ask leaning into his ear, his shoulder tense under your palms for a moment before going slack. “You look stressed.”

“I guess you could label it as that.” The academic puffs out his cheeks letting a deep breath out hidden by a forced chuckle. “It’s difficult but I think I’m finally making some progress.”

“You’re very smart daddy.” You coo playfully, his upper body once again stiffens but this time you can sense the surprise. “Fuck I want to kiss you.” He breathes leaning his head back against your chest. “Then kiss me.” You resolve.

He twists his body around, ignorant of the others, planting a delicate but meaningful kiss against you. You grin, leaning down to nudge him slightly to the side with your nose, giving you a better angle to leave a trail of light kisses from the corner of his mouth to the base of his neck. “Behave love, I won’t ever get this finished if you distract me.”

“But daddy.” A pregnant pause. “I think the others were enjoying the show”

You try not to giggle as Namjoon peeks from his closed eyes, Hoseok and Jin had paused there conversation that was taking place across the table to watch whatever moment you were both sharing, Yoongi sharing his attention between the eggs in the pan and the sight of you both.

“Oh.” He huffs running a shy hand over his face. “Sorry.” He murmurs meekly placing a final kiss to your ear before he turns his attention back to his laptop.

“Take it to the bedroom..don’t taint my table! People eat here, think of the children.” Jin scolds.

“What children?” Jungkook intervenes cheerily, taking a place at the counter to watch Yoongi cook similar to how you had.

Jin doesn’t respond, instead directing a look of exasperation towards you.

“Y/N was going to fuck joonie at the table.” Hoseok laughs, the academic slumping further in his seat as if he wished to disappear.

“Hoseok don’t.” You punish him by throwing a piece of bread towards him.

Unfortunately you miss but it doesn’t stop Taehyung laughing at the scene, “Hyung you call us the children.” He whines at Jin who shakes his head in response, clearly fed up. “You are all a bunch of brats.” The older man resigns, throwing his hands in the air before letting them hit the table dramatically.

You can’t help but grin as the afternoon shenanigans unfold, the youngest gentleman trying to catch the elders attention by prodding him with a wooden spatula. You lean back on the counter as yoongi plates the eggs for you, his face remaining straight despite Jungkooks continuous harassment.

“Poke me one more time and I’ll use that spatula in ways it shouldn’t be used.” Yoongi announces proudly. You choke on air, the egg in your mouth threatens to make a reappearance as you try to stifle your laughs. The other members had given up their conversation in favour of joining in with the excitement.

Jin stands up, his chair nearly falling back in the process as he rushes to the kitchen where yoongi remains threatening Jungkook with a wooden item. “What is it with you heathens and disrespecting the things we use to nourish ourselves. Min Yoongi you put that spatula down right now before I do something sinful to your laptop.” He scolds the younger.

“Oh Hyung save me.” Jungkook shouts halfheartedly trying to jump into Jins arms.

“Now look at what you’ve started.” Yoongi rolls his eyes dropping the spatula into the sink as it clatters against the dirty pan. “I hope you’re happy holding him all day.”

“Jungkook get down.”

The younger pouts. “Tell Hyung to stop threatening me.”

“It wasn’t that threatening.” Jimin chuckles, his tongue sticking out at jungkook.

“Don’t get involved.” Taehyung laughs, nudging Jimins shoulder. The younger slipping into Jimins lap as they take a seat at the table.

Jin warns. “Jungkook either get down or I’ll drop you.”.

“Drop me and I’ll never have sex with you again.” You can’t miss the way the eldest goes bright red at the unexpected threat, one that you definitely knew to be empty.

“I can’t finish these does anyone want the rest?” You ask holding the plate of eggs in the air, as much as you loved the way Yoongi cooked he had a tendency to make enough to feed a small village.

“Me.” Jungkook shouts, throwing himself from the therapists arms as he rushes against taehyung to get to the plate.

You help wash up the dishes created through the breakfast you had missed due to the late morning with Jimin. Everyone had dispersed to do their own things so you found yourself abandoning the kitchen in favour of taking a seat on the couch, a coffee in hand as you settled with a book Namjoon had recommended you. You don’t get to read too far into it as a figure distracts you, his presence demanding all of your attentions

“Hey pup.” You smile down at the brown eyes boy, discarding your book the the side. You make note of the collar adorning his neck. “Does minie know you have that on?” You question, cocking your head to the side.

Taehyung hides his faces further into the blanket you had draped across your frame. “Pup I asked you something.” You keep your tone firm, Indulging him in his clear desire to play. He shakes his head, confirming the answer you had thought to yourself.

“Hmm I think we should go and tell him then shouldn’t we?” You hide the smile that tugs at your lips when he whines in disagreement.

It hadn’t been explicitly said that Taehyung couldn’t have the collar when he wanted but from the first time you had played with Taehyung in this head space he had asked Jimins permission and although you was sure he wouldn’t be too bothered it was always a little fun to tease the younger.

“I’m going to get him, you wait on your knees like a good pet okay? You ruffle his hair lightly, you don’t wait for him to carry out the instructions you provided but the shuffling alerts you he has completed them.

Jimins door was open but you still knocked against it, not wanting to accidentally bother something important. “Something wrong?” He extends a hand to you, his eyebrows raised in questioning

“Not really.” You walk into his room a little further lacing your fingers in his. “Tae came to me just now wearing his collar, he’s in pup space at the moment. I asked him if he had your permission.” His brows knit together, shaking his head.

“I did not. I told him last week he needed my permission.” He throws his phone on the pillow before standing up, whirling you around. “Looks like I have a pup to punish.” He grins sadistically and you almost feel bad for the unsuspecting Taehyung.

You feel the excitement tainting the air within the room, your eyes watching Jimin as he sees the younger man on his knees. The collar now on the floor in front of him. You slide down onto the couch, choosing to observe for the moment although not alone as Jungkook joins beside you.

“Taehyung, you directly disobeyed the rule I gave you last week by wearing your collar without my permission. How did you even get it I keep it in my room?” Jimin interrogates the boy, pulling lightly on his hair when he receives no response after a few seconds.

You’re surprised as Jungkooks body deflated, his voice barely above a whisper. “I took it.”

Taehyung looked up through the curtains his hair created, jimins gaze flicking between the two. “Then shouldn’t you be on your knees too?” There’s no room for argument in the Doms voice, not that anyone would be dumb enough to disobey him in this setting. The sight of seeing the youngest gentlemen on their knees in front of you completely exhilarating.

“m sorry.” Taehyung whines.

“Look at me.” Jimins voice is commanding, enticing, both men look up, one more sheepish than the other. “You’ve both misbehaved, bad boys get punished don’t they?” The question doesn’t need an answer, they all know that.

“I want both of you kneeling at the end of my bed, I’ll be there in 5 minuets. Don’t you dare think about moving or talking to one another.” Jimin turns before either make can argue, both of them scurrying up the stairs. Taehyung swiping the collar and taking it with him.

“Are you going to come?” He turns to you, a hand lifting your chin. You shake your head, “I’ll be here after if any of them want a cuddle.”

He chuckled lowly before kissing you, soon enough it was once again just you in the room. You knew most of the content like this would be cut, you sitting there reading wouldn’t make for much television but you didn’t mind. One thing you had learnt to do here was enjoy the moments of solitude, the moments where you had no expectations and could just breathe.

The sound of footsteps behind you pulled you from becoming too enveloped in your own mind.

You relaxed as his hands come to your shoulders, although it wasn’t the same as Taehyung professional technique it was still relaxing. “Hey dove did I scare you?”

“No.” You breathe, pulling him to sit by your side as you laid your head on his shoulder. “Today was fun.”

“It was indeed.” Hoseok breathed against you, his fingers brushing past the skin of your forearm. “There’s something I would like to discuss with you.”

You nibble your bottom lip. “What’s that?”

“I have been thinking about this for a while, I’d like you to tell me if something I say during this conversation makes you feel uncomfortable.” He gives you a nod as you playfully whisper the words “Yes Sir.”

“You know how important trust is between a dominant and a submissive, don’t you?” He questions.

You nod your head, of course you did, anyone with any understanding of the concept would know that.

“Great.” His fingers had began drawing a pattern over your arm, small delicate circles as if he was hoping to comfort you. “There is a level of dominance that can occur both inside and outside of the bedroom, it isn’t limited to sexual acts or intercourse. After the situation between myself and Jimin I think it could be good for us to once again establish that trust even if it only continues until I should need to complete my next prompt.”

You swallow,, “So what are you suggesting?”

“I’m saying that I think it would be a good time for us to explore dominance outside of the bedroom.” He smiles placidly.

You pause for a moment, not wanting to blurt out something wrong. “So you would be in control outside of the bedroom?”

Hoseok hums. “Only with the boundaries you are comfortable with, just because I’m a dominant it doesn’t mean you don’t have a say. Your comfort is the most important thing.”

“What would it entail? Wouldn’t it conflict with the other members. I wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m playing favourites. I wouldn’t even know where to start in the bedroom it’s easy it comes naturally.” You hear your voice becoming more stressed but it doesn’t stop your ongoing panicked rant.

He turns his body to cup your face keeping you centred on him “Everything is going to be fine, no one will think you’re playing favourites I already spoke with them about it just in case any of them had any qualms.” his tone holds a comforting promise that you chose to relax in. You let yourself be held by him for a moment appreciating the security he provides.

You pull away, shaking your head. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to I just-” 

“I know,” the dominant cuts you off preventing you from letting anymore pointless apologies leave your mouth. “Like I said, your comfort is important are you okay to continue the conversation?”

“Yes sir.” You force a laugh hoping to lighten the air “You promise it’s okay?” 

“Such a good girl.” He smiles at the blush on your face, your thighs pressing together because of the praise. “I promise,” he replied without a second thought.

“How would it work, I don’t think I’d like to give up complete control, would you be okay with that?” You rush. “I know it’s not the level of professionalism in a submissive you’re used to but this is still something new to me.” You huff a faint pout to your lips.

“I’d like to believe that I’m somewhat of a decent dominant, and an important component of that is putting my submissive first.” His thumb started drawing circles on the back of your hand. “And it just happens that you are not only my sub, but also my friend so when I tell you I’m okay with whatever boundaries you set I mean it. Don’t question that.”

“Sorry Hobi.” You reside, he was right, he was Hoseok, you didn’t have to worry.

The elder man grinned gingerly, his head coming to rest against yours. “Non sexual dominance isn’t just one thing, it could be me helping take the pressure off you through difficult days, you could even decide when it happens or we could decide a day of the week.” He pulls away to observing your reaction, you give him an encouraging nod before he resumes to his place and continues.” It could be so much as me deciding when and what you eat, what you wear, giving you tasks throughout the day.”

“I wouldn’t have to decide or worry about anything?” His offer definitely sounded enticing, sex is a great way to deal with stress but having another outlet wouldn’t hurt.

He sits forward eagerly. “I would decide whatever I feel comfortable with.”

You appreciated hobi for thinking about it. He was always so thoughtful and that made you love him in his own sense. “Then I’d like to try it.”

Hoseoks hand tightens on yours briefly at your agreement and relaxes again before sipping to rest on your thigh. “Is there anything in particular that you have difficulty with?”

You’re hyperaware of the weight of his limb upon yours, the urge to nudge his hand further up your thigh becoming difficult to ward off but nevertheless you focus your attention, he asked you a question and you knew better than to ignore the dominant. “The day before eliminations I’m always most stressed, I have a lot of trouble trying to focus or enjoy myself, I think on those days having you decide things for me like what I wear or what I eat could be helpful, it could be calming to have you take control on those days.” You smile proudly, your honesty outstanding you.

“That’s good dove you did so good.” He mulls it over. “I think we could possibly create a schedule for you on that day, nothing too restrictive just being mindful should someone else need to fulfill their prompt. Maybe a set time for you to sleep and eat. I’ll be the one to wake you up and chose what you wear, if you’d like snacks through the day you could ask permission, along with me providing you with tasks to complete through the day. I see you’ve been reading.” He gestures to the book on your side. “It could be so much as me deciding a time for you to read, to help you remember to relax your mind.” He observes your reaction, one that was intently focused on him, before giving your thigh a reassuring squeeze. “How does that sound?”

“It sounds good.” In all honest your mind was a little blank, you’d never let someone take control of your life in that sense. As much as it was appealing you couldn’t ignore the feeling of unease tinkering in your stomach. “Hobi?”

“Dove.” He responded, calm, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to listen to you.

“It’s nerve wracking to give so much control up.” You admit.

He doesn’t seem surprised. “How about we just try it this weekend, if anything doesn’t feel good you can tell me and we will stop immediately. Remember even in times where we are engaging in power play you still have the right to revoke your consent at any moment.”

Although you nodded it took you a moment to find your voice. “Thank you.”

“For?” He encourages.

“For being you, for taking care of me.” You slump against him.

“I’ll always try my best to take care of you, I may make mistakes but I care about you, all of you.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

You wanted to respond but the sound of whines and giggles catch your attention, Taehyung and Jungkook come tumbling into the room, both of them breathing heavily and wearing significantly less than they had been previously. The collar Tae had been adorning around his neck no longer there, a sign Jimin had taken it.

“Y/N catch me!” Jungkook shouts, throwing himself over the couch, his body making an audible thud against the cushions. “Taehyung is scary when he is mad.”

“And why is pup mad?” You interject with a giggle of your own.

“I can’t tell you.” His lips curl up, his bunny smile and doe eyes tugging gently at your heart. “It’s a secret.”

“He’s an asshole.” Taehyung huffs falling beside Hoseok who turns to look at you in bemusement, the prior seriousness of his form gone, his shoulders slack.

It never fails to impress you the way he fluctuates between his dominant persona to that of his regular self. The soft side of him enabling the maknaes as he teases them. “Don’t be mad taehyungie, I’m sure if Jimin wasn’t sufficient I could be.”

“You wish.” Jimin throws him a smirk as he enters the room. “You okay?” He gestures to you. You nod giving him a smile before he turns on his heels, heading towards the kitchen. “He is so annoying.” Hoseok laughs sheepishly.

It would be a lie to say you wasn’t happier to see them on better terms with one another, their previous hostility almost non existent.

“Anyone wanna play a game?” Taehyung bubbles up, perching himself on his knees.

“Sure.” You agree, nothing better to do. “What do you want to play?”

“I’ll go ask the others and then we can pick a game, I miss everyone being together.” The youngest shakes his head further into your lap.

“We are together every day kookie.” You soothe, running a hand over his eyebrow. “Still.” He grumbles. You playfully roll your eyes at his excessive pout. “Go and ask them, I’m sure they would agree.” You encourage.

“I’ll be right back.” He announces victoriously.

—

The day had ended much faster than it had began, the consecutive board games and risky follow up of twister keeping the day seemingly short. The only one who opted out of playing was Jin who had explained he needed to work, it wasn’t something Jungkook was happy about but he perked up after winning monopoly, claiming himself the champion after bankrupting Jimin who, admittedly, threw a very entertaining tantrum claiming Jungkook had cheated.

The moment you climbed into your bed you felt yourself go lax, although you wasn’t ready to sleep so you found yourself sneaking back down to the kitchen. Hoping to find something to satiate your need for a midnight, or in your case 2am, snack.

The noise you was was inhumane at the sight of Yoongi hunched over the table, his attention drawing from his laptop to you as you try to calm your racing heart.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He hushes, coming to embrace you. “Is okay.” You mumble against him, the smell of his shampoo always providing you with solace.

“You couldn’t sleep?” You gesture towards his laptop. He shakes his head letting out a breath against your head. “I’m guessing you couldn’t either?”

“Nope.” You emphasise the p.

“I could definitely help make you tired.” He teases. A hand brushing over your boob. The cold air of the night keeping your nipples hard.

“Yoongi.” You moan, twisting to alight your face with his, pressing a kiss against him, soft moans being engulfed by his mouth as he thumbs your nipple under your shirt.

“Counter.” He instructs and you rush over, letting him lift you upon it.

“Jin won’t be happy.” You giggle throwing your shirt over your head.

“Fuck it.” He sighs kissing your neck sloppily, desperately. “I’ll let him fuck me and he will forget about it.

You choke on your breath at his obscene revelation. “Can I watch?” You giggle, letting your hand fall to palm the semi hard member converted by his sweatpants.

“Only if you cum on my cock.” He takes your nipple into his mouth, grazing his teeth over it making you shudder.

You fist his hair, pulling a little rougher than usual. “Fuck me then.” You plead.

He pulls away searching to find your mouth. “Desperate tonight are you kitten?”

“Yoons please.” You beg, his cock hard beneath your hand.

“Tell me what you want baby.” He squeezes your thighs pressing them apart as he runs circles on your clit. “Be a good girl and use your words for me.”

Instinctively, you grind against his hand “Wan’ your cock.”

“Bend over.” He steps back helping you jump down from the slightly cold counter. You turn around, leaning over, spreading your legs for him. “Hurry.” You moan. Hands reaching back to search for him.

“Are you demanding?” He pauses, his movements falling silent.

“No?” You whine, impatient, uncaring to answer properly, your mind focused on chasing your current high. “Please”

“Don’t move.” His voice is authoritative, dark.

You don’t question him knowing doing so would delay whatever idea he had come up with making your wait longer.

He returns but a moment later, a light object brushing against your bare ass. “Because you’re such a demanding little thing tonight I’m going to spank each cheek 5 times with a spatula” he brushes it against your thigh, edging it towards your pussy, pulling it away before you can feel the stimulation of it. If you move I’ll make you wait until tomorrow to be fucked, understand?”

The idea of him spanking you turns you on even more, your arousal visable through the wet patch on the thongs you had chosen to wear underneath a tshirt. “I understand I’ll be good.”

“I know you will baby.” He chuckles, the first blow landing directly on your right cheek, you grip the counter, thankful for the stability it provides you. Yoongi is relentless in the way he paddles your ass with the spatula, you can feel the tenderness of the skin as he lands the final blow, throwing the spatula to the side before turning you to face him, his hands grasping your elbows to support you. “You okay princess? You did so well.”

You feel lightheaded with arousal. “M’ good. So good.” You pull him closer, his cock brushing against you as he kisses you, tugging at your lip. “please don’t make me wait any more.” You pout, feigning sadness.

“Panties off. Bend over for me.”

You discard the drenched fabric, rushing to arch your back as you stretch over the counter, making sure to give Yoongi enough room to fit between your legs.

“You’re so beautiful like this, legs spread for me.” He graze your ear with his teeth, wasting no time before bringing the head of his cock to caress your folds. “So wet for me too.”

Your response was cut as he slid inside of your cunt, the moan you let out definitely too loud for this hour but you didn’t care. You needed him and you needed him now.

“Want to milk my cock huh?” He teased. “Such a good kitten.”

One thing about Yoongi was that he could use his mouth in more ways than one but they all turned you on just as much.

You gasped as his hand connected with the flesh of your ass, head dropping into your hands, unable to do anything more than endure the painstakingly slow thrusts he was maintaining.

“please more - i ne-“

Smack.

“You need what?”

Smack.

“I need you.” You whisper, your voice rough as tears threatened behind your eyes.

"So good, baby." he grunted, pulling you by the hips, embedding you on his throbbing cock.

The noises were obscene, his balls slapping against you as he fucked into you, chasing his own pleasure all whilst whispering praises that brought you to find your own.

“gon cum” you screamed lazily, your body limp over the counter with your legs unable to hold you up anymore.

“You want to cum?” He purred, fingers digging into the skin of your thighs.

You shuddered underneath his touch. Enjoying the pain of his nails dragging across your ass. “Please.”

“Not yet.” His voice was firm a contrast to the usual soft exterior.

Min Yoongi was an enigma.

“I’m going to - fuck- mine - all mine.” He hisses, hand shifting to grope your boob, his thrusts coming at you full force making your vision swirl.

“yoon-ah-fuck.” You sputter unable to string a sentence together, too high on sex.

“Don’t even think about cumming.” He warns, his voice strangled his cock throbbing inside of you, you clench yourself around his cock milking him dry as you feel the warm liquid paint your walls.

You feel your orgasm slipping away as he pulls out of you, his cum already threatening to drip down your thighs.

“Open.” He instructs tapping your thigh.

“Fuck” was the only word you could make out as his tongue lapped up the mess between your legs.

He was always amazing with his mouth.

“I want you to cum on my face.” His voice is muffled his face pressed between your ass as he licks a strip over your ass this time with more force. Every nerve was on fire, the heat from his mouth going straight to your clit.

You pushed yourself back against him, you hands reaching back to hold his head in place to which he didn’t protest.

He held his tongue out, letting you rut against him, soft moans filling the air accompanied by the sound of your wetness on his face.

It didn’t take you long to rebuild your earlier stolen orgasm, the overstimulation pushing you dangerously close to the edge.

“can I-?” You cry out around choked sobs.

“Cum.” He growls, gripping your thighs to suck your clit.

Ecstasy filled your mind, a light blissful was making you forget everything. The feeling of your orgasm draining the last of your energy leaving yoongi to support your frame.

“How are you feeling?” You enjoy the comfort of your back being pressed against his chest, his fingers caressing your body.

Nothing else mattered in that moment.

You hummed lazily, too fucked out to handle any type of conversation.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up, you did so good for me im so proud. Such a patient girl.” He sings beautiful praises all of which making you feel warm.

A warmth that is knocked out of you when you both turn - and jump - at the shock of the figure leaning against the door.

“Hyung what the fuck did you want to give me a heart attack!” Yoongi curses, clutching onto his chest as if the organ was about to escape him.

You couldn’t help your embarrassment at being caught in the act, you also couldn’t help the way it made you feel.

“Do you know how loud you were? I’m pretty sure I could hear Jungkook getting off from the sound of you.” Jin declares, a fake frown forming his lips.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the show.” You giggle, still enjoying your post orgasm high. Yoongis arm wrapped around your centre keeping you straight.

Yoongi shakes his head, an attempt to rid himself of the smirk he had began to wear.

The older turns ready to head back in the direction from which he came before he grunted pulling you both to attention. “Oh and you two.” Jin points between you and Yoongi who was currently trying to stifle a laugh. “Are disgusting.” “Having sex in my kitchen, no manners.”

You both seem to hold your breath until the sound of his footsteps fall out of earshot before you glance at eachother, stomach shaking laughter filling the space as you both lean on one another for support.

Jin definitely wasn’t going to let you forget it.

After a quick shower you collapsed into bed, Yoongi beside you. The week had gone much faster then you had thought it would. Tomorrow was the mark of a new week and therefore meant you were about to eliminate another member of the house.

“What’s wrong baby?” His voice was gravely.

You shrugged. “Voting day tomorrow, I don’t know what to do.”

“You could always vote me out?” He laughed, as if it was nothing.

You envied that kind of mentality, that the vote didn’t matter because the outcome in the end would be nothing short of great, each of them wiling to sacrifice their own chance at winning to keep you stress free.

“Let’s deal with this tomorrow?” You ask, exhausted.

With a kiss to your head and an arm wrapped around your waist you drifted off, your mind filtering images including all 8 of you, smiles on your faces, hands entwined.

[cherryrainn]

I really liked the anonymous request about tmnt , I hope the guy / girl will not mind if I add something.

Yandere brother shredder and sibling reader, resigned himself to having to live with his brother and by his rules.

I will add a little 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵/𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵

The reader wraps himself in a blanket and sleeps

Tmnt 2014/16

hi!! i really enjoyed writing that one, so i totally will do this for you. also, i accidentally deleted an ask because im a dumbass so if you notice how i didnt do your ask please send it in again!!

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— blood bonds

yandere!shredder x sibling reader (platonic)

you found yourself resigned to living under the dominion of your brother, shredder. as the night fell, you retreated to your room, seeking solace and a momentary respite from the chaotic world outside.

with a heavy heart, you wrapped yourself in a cozy blanket, seeking comfort and warmth amidst the turbulent emotions that plagued your mind. the room exuded an air of unease as if it mirrored the conflicted feelings swirling within your troubled soul.

lying down, you stared up at the ceiling, your thoughts consumed by the complex web of emotions you felt for your brother. the line between love and fear had blurred, leaving you with an overwhelming sense of entrapment.

as you closed your eyes, you couldn't help but wonder how your life had taken such a drastic turn. you had always yearned for a close bond with your brother, but you never anticipated the depths of shredder's possessiveness and desire for control.

as you stared at the dimly lit room, the door swung open, and shredder entered without hesitation. the intensity in his eyes was palpable as he approached you, his mere presence sending a shiver down your spine.

"you know you're not allowed to lock your door, y/n," shredder's voice carried an edge, his possessive nature unyielding.

startled, you pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, the vulnerability seeping into your bones. "i just needed some time alone," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

shredder's gaze bore into you, his expression a mix of concern and possessiveness. "alone? you know you can't be alone, not when i'm here to protect you."

your heart lurched as shredder's words sank in; this was not the first time he had addressed these concerns. you glanced down at your feet, averting your eyes from his penetrating stare. "i didn't mean to keep you waiting," you mumbled, attempting to diffuse the tension that filled the room.

shredder drew closer, his body looming over yours as he sat on the edge of your bed. "i'll never tire of protecting my younger sibling. i would lay down my life for you."

the tenderness in shredder's voice sent a wave of relief through your chest. you gave him a weak smile, unable to hide the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. "thank you," you murmured softly, unsure what else to say.

shredder leaned forward, placing his cold metal hand on your cheek. "are you alright?" he asked, his tone soft and soothing.

as shredder's cold touch grazed your cheek, a mixture of fear and an unsettling thrill coursed through your veins. the nature within him had grown stronger over time, blurring the lines between love and obsession. you had become entangled in a web of twisted affection, where shredder's desires and possessiveness held a macabre allure.

"i can't bear the thought of anything happening to you," shredder confessed, his voice laced with a strange combination of tenderness and possessive fervor. "you are my blood, y/n. no one else should have the privilege of your presence."

a shiver ran down your spine, a morbid fascination mingling with your apprehension. you were acutely aware of the dangerous game you played, trapped between the longing for your own freedom and the magnetic pull of shredder's obsession.

he moved closer, his fingers gently tracing the outline of your face. "no one will ever understand you like i do, y/n. i know your deepest fears, your darkest secrets. and i'll protect them with my life."

fear gripped your heart, a flicker of doubt and apprehension dancing in your eyes. but just as the darkness threatened to consume you, shredder's expression softened, his grip on your face gentling.

"yet, i would never cause you harm, y/n," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of regret and tenderness. "my violence is reserved only for those who dare to endanger what we have. i would rather suffer than see you hurt."

conflicting emotions swirled within you, torn between the fear of shredder's dark side and the twisted comfort his words brought.

in a sudden change of demeanor, shredder's fingers caressed your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. "you're safe with me, y/n," he murmured, his voice laced with a fragile tenderness. "i may be consumed by this darkness, but i will protect you from it. you're the light that keeps me anchored."

and so, in the confines of your shared sanctuary, you surrendered to the twisted love that bound you, seeking solace in the fragile balance between the violence that haunted your brother's soul and the comfort he found in your presence.

[thecameronchronicles]

H-2-Oh!

TW: Smut. Language. 

SUMMARY: After you scare Drew from being dehydrated and ending up in the hospital, he makes it a point that you understand how important hydration is…

WORD COUNT: 1300

*Requested*

Hydration

You didn’t mean to do it on purpose, but with the chaotic schedule constantly on your dockett, you always managed to bypass that reminder to drink water. And until now, it never seemed to affect you aside from a few headaches and dizzy spells that acted as reminders all their own. But with the last few days having been too busy to remember, you would be lingering on set, waiting for your cue, until everything suddenly went dark following an abnormal weight in your head. When you awoke, you found Drew at your side, a look of disappointment across his face as the doctor would explain how you were severely dehydrated. With a saline solution pumped into your veins to make up for what you neglected yourself, you were discharged within the hour with a change of care from those around you. The usual compassion was accelerated as you had every member of the cast and crew now reminding you nearly every hour to drink, going so far as to set alarms on their phones and watch you consume it as you’d scared all of them that greatly. But none more than your boyfriend, Drew. 

Waking up to the sound of the bathroom door coming open as Drew emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist and another set within his hair, the medium length returning after having cut it for ‘Hellraiser’, your lip became captivated between your teeth at the sight of him. The spare droplets missed by his quick dry acted as an accentuation to his toned physique. Your eyes could remain on him indefinitely, a high allowed just by the sight of him as the pulsation between your legs worsened as those wondrous eyes looked to you with amusement. 

“You alright there baby?” He teased as you snapped out of your daze and slowly nodded before he moved closer to the bed. 

“You want something, there?”

You nodded, moving to your knees as he rested his own against the side of the bed, allowing your hands to trace the width of his shoulders before lowering, a sudden grip to your wrists surprising you. 

“Did you drink today?” You rolled your eyes, the question having been asked in abundance from everyone. 

“I will.” But as you went to kiss him, he would move away, forcing you to collide with his cheek. 

“Drew…” You groaned, “Please…” Your neediness knew no bounds when it came to him standing before you as vulnerable as he was, a simple pull of a loosely tied towel to reveal his glorious erection to you. And yet, you were being denied…

“You want me?” You slowly nodded as he teased a kiss before moving into the bathroom, pulling a dixie cup left for mouthwash, now filled with water, before extending it to you. 

“You can’t be serious…”

“Compromise, sweetheart…” You rolled your eyes, downing the contents as if it had been a shot, before wrapping your arms back over his shoulders as he offered a sweet kiss. In seconds, you were on your back as he made this possible by a swift lift to the backs of your thighs as you gasped into a chuckle. 

“So beautiful, baby…” He grinned as you felt his lips descend your body, kissing between your breasts and down your stomach, his tongue dipping into your navel before making a continuation between your thighs. 

“Oh fuck…” You breathed to that talented tongue making quick flicks against your clit, your hand wrapping in his hair as his fingers came around your thighs, his dominant hold using his pointer finger and thumb to pull your clitoral hood further apart. 

“Jesus, Drew!” He grinned against you once more before nodding against you, moaning, and sending those devilish vibrations direction to your core and to the edges of each and every one of your nerves. 

“I’m gonna-” He continued to bob his head, feeling your body react as he’d become accustomed to, only to withdraw a second prior to that wash. By the time you’d lifted to view him, he had returned with another cup. 

“SERIOUSLY?!”

“You scared me that day…I thought-I know I won’t let it happen again…So if you give me what I want…then you get what you want…”

“I’ll drink after, I promise…just please…”

“You’ve said that before and that still happened…” You leaned back on your elbows, cocking your jaw and rolling your eyes before he would hover over you.

“You need it for what I’m about to do to you…More so if you keep up this little attitude.” His fingers slipped beneath your chin. 

“You want to come? Drink for me…” You narrowed your eyes before ultimately offering your submission as you took the contents of the cup as it remained in his hand, your eyes keeping to his. The second the last drop was consumed, the cup was crushed in his hand and he pulled you around him and into the bathroom, setting your bare ass on the sink as you shuddered to the cold. This was quickly rectified by the warmth of his mouth captivating your breasts, your eyes pulling to a roll as he moved that tongue from yoru hardened nipples and beyond your clavicle before rising to your neck. 

“Drink…” He motioned to the cup at your side, his lips devoted to your neck, tongue feverish against your skin as your eyes screwed closed as you obeyed, his hands stationed in a passionate guidance as you finished yet another cup. 

“Drew-”

“I know what you need, baby…” He removed his towel, hosting you around him and burying his cock perfectly within your need. Your immediate clench forced him forward against you, his palm resting on the mirror behind you. 

“Babe-”

“Sorry…”

“Do it again…” He requested as you bit your bottom lip before nodding, doing so with a sneer as he took you harder against him. 

“I love you so much…” He spoke into your neck, the harsh grip wrapped around the back of your head taking you into him. 

“I love you Drew…”

“But I need more-”

“More?” He nodded, turning you into a bend over the sink. 

“I want you to watch what happens when you drink for me…How good I can make you feel…and I want you to remember that if you don’t…you won’t get this…” You smirked. 

“You think I’m joking?” He threatened to withdraw as your nails came behind you and embedded into the backs of his thighs. 

“So drink one more for me…”

“Drew-”

“That’ll be at least eight ounces…Just one more…” You paused before obeying, the second you were hydrated, his thrusts returned, only now, without end. One pump after another sheathing in and out of your sex, melodious groans and moans filling the space between the sound of skin-to-skin rushing together in the rise of that orgasm. 

“Fuck baby! I’m close!”

“I’m gonna come!” You recipcoracted as he pulled you even together against him, the final moans silenced in the kiss he offered in the final moments prior to that release. The warmth and slickness now between you now a trophy for this compromise as he brought you further against him. 

“Is THAT what it takes to get you to listen to me?” He teased as you leaned against the sink, recovering from his motions as you shook your head. 

“I think we disagreed about uh…Shit, I’m sure there’s something…”

“You never have to compromise, Drew…You just have to ask…”

“I’m gonna hold you to that…Now come on…” He extended his hand to you. 

“Where are we going?”

“Hydration…” You rolled your eyes as he motioned to the sink. 

“Trust me…you’ll need it…” He winked as you groaned to how true his words had been.

Taglist:@hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @my-baexht-ls @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae