#Clear Wave Green

[rashid92786]

OPPO A2 5G टेलीकॉम पर हुआ लिस्ट, इसके फीचर्स Realme और Vivo के होश उड़ा देंगे

OPPO A2 5G के अद्भुत फीचर्स से जानिए कैसे Realme और Vivo को पीछे छोड़ा गया है। टेलीकॉम पर अब लिस्ट होने वाला यह डिवाइस अवश्य देखें। OPPO की नई स्मार्टफोन, A2 5G ने हाल ही में टेलीकॉम पर अपनी जगह बनाई है। इसकी बेहतरीन तकनीकी विशेषताएं और अद्वितीय डिज़ाइन ने उसे बाजार में अन्य प्रतिस्पर्धी ब्रांड्स जैसे कि Realme और Vivo को चुनौती देने वाली स्थिति में ला दिया है। उपयोगकर्ता अब और भी उत्सुक हैं इस…

[spookberry]

Theyre so beautiful 🥺

[expatiating]

[seasalt-dreams-edits]

Phosphophyllite Stimboard

Requested by: Mod caff

Icon source

 X  |  X  |  X

 X  |  O  |  X

 X  |  X  |  X

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5][Pt.6][Pt.7]

As someone who lived in the middle of nowhere, Amity, the ocean both terrified and enthralled Danny Fenton.

The first time his parents took him to the beach, it was the middle of the day and he’d been stuck in the prototype GAV for hours upon hours on their “quick, ghost rumor hunting field trip.”

It wasn’t quick, and they caught exactly zero ghosts. When Danny saw the expanse of sand underneath the summer sun, he and Jazz both bounded out of the van like feral little monkeys. Danny and Jazz sprinted down the sand, their parents ambling behind them with their arms loaded up with towels, a first aid kit, and an ungodly amount of mildly ecto contaminated food that they already fought before getting onto the beach.

Danny had splashed into the water, yelped at the freezing temperature, and then promptly found a shell to keep. His mom taught him how to swim with the waves, having come from Surf City herself, and his dad taught Jazz how to dive.

It was a day full of fond memories, especially the memory of the Great War of Sand-Castle Crushing he and Jazz waged against each other.

They stuck around for the sunset, the ripples of colors and peacefulness that swept across the vast waters caught Danny in its hold.

He hadn’t forgotten that moment. Not even when he died.

After a particularly hard day as Phantom, Danny would fly to the coast and loose hours just sitting on the sand and watching the waves lap against the shore. And when those nights were clear? It felt like a slice of his own personal heaven, with the stars shining on his shoulders and the encompassing crash of the waves sheltering his heart.

And on some days, when being Danny left him frustrated, Danny would fly out to the coast and use his intangibility to walk beneath the waves. Near the coast, it’s cloudy with swirls of moving sand and disturbed waters. He walked, and walked, and floated and floated beneath the waters, taking contentment from the way the moonlight of his stars filtered through the water. He admired the way light would glint on the scales of fish and crustaceans alike as he floated beneath the surface. On those days, Danny would pick up trash and polluted things and bring them to shore, to place in the trash cans and all of the recycling cans. He picked up shells and decorated the beaches he frequented, because if it were decorated, perhaps people would refrain from chucking their waste into the sea.

Well, usually, it’d be trash.

Danny watched speechlessly, jaw cracked open just a smidge, as an explosion happened right over his head. The distortion of the water did not hide the fact that there were large chunks of plane pelting down at him, a different figure flying away from the explosion. Danny went invisible and intangible as large metal pieces plunged into his current water space.

“Gosh, people these days,” he huffed. “This is gonna take forever to…”

Danny trailed off, seeing a humanoid shape crash into the water, clearly unconscious. Danny didn’t hesitate before shooting towards the drowning person, glowing green and fully visible again. The stranger’s eyes- holy shit, that’s Batman- turned towards him before closing behind cracked open lenses. Batman slumped falling unconscious. That’s not good.

Danny rocketed out of the water with the vigilante in his arms. If it weren’t for his supernatural strength, there’s no way lanky teenage Danny would have been able to carry Batman’s grown ass built like a tank self to the shore. Likewise, if it weren’t for his strength, Danny wouldn’t have been able to start chest compressions through the layers of armor.

Danny leaned back with a sigh as Batman coughed out only a bit of water, because Danny hadn’t taken all that long to get to him, and held up his hands in a “I don’t have weapons” way as Batman whirled to him.

“Hi. Are you alright?” Danny asked, ectoplasm and instinctive ghost speak fuzzing his words a bit. Damn, Batman must have nearly died a lot. He’ll freak out about meeting Batman later.

“You saved me,” an awkward pause. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. The other guy went that way.”

Danny waved vaguely.

“…What are you?”

“Oh my god, Batman, you can’t just ask someone what they are!” He immediately replied, inwardly smacking himself for the joke. He watched Batman’s face, watching for any sign of discrimination against ghosts, or any sign the man had a sense of humor.

“…”

Neither, apparently, was the answer.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just here to clean up the beaches. You humans really like to pollute the beaches. It’s quite rude, you know. That plane of yours, well, it’s not your fault,” he amended. “But it’s gonna damage sea life. And I don’t know if you’re in the habit, but please don’t litter on the beach or in the water, especially with your unconscious body. It’s tedious to clean.”

“…I see.”

“Stay. I’ll take out your plane. Make sure it doesn’t stay on the sand, alright?”

With that, Danny stood. Unaware of the way the moonlight lit up his hair like white flames and accentuated the sharp points of his ears, Danny turned away and flew back to the plane site, dragging the pieces up with ease.

Batman sat on the sand, likely exhausted from his fight, and watched him carry the pieces of the aircraft up.

“Here. All done. I gotta get going,” because Danny has school and this just lost him two hours. “Will you be alright?”

Batman nodded once, sharply.

“Good.” Danny went invisible, watching Batman sat up straighter, glancing around in a suddenly visible awareness. Oh, well. Tucker’s gonna freak out.

——

Three years later, Danny’s moved to Gotham for university.

And after midterm season, Danny went for a ghostly walk, but this time, in the waters surrounding Gotham.

When he surfaced, Batman was crouching on a lamp post, waiting for him.

“Oh, it’s you,” Danny said. “Hello. Did you know that people are polluting these waters with bodies too?”

“Yes,” Batman said, graveled voice resounding on the shipping containers around them.

“You should do something about that. Do you like places that are polluted?”

Batman sighed. “What are you?”

Danny hears a small, tinny voice by Batman’s ear, coming from a comm.

“Oh my god, B, you can’t just ask someone what they are!”

Mind flashing back to the night Danny drug a waterlogged Batman out of the ocean, Danny cracked a smile.

“Phantom,” he said, decisively. And, because this isn’t Amity anymore, “the Beach Clean Up crew from the flip side.”

——

Bruce, waking up on the sand: wtf

Bruce, seeing a child next to him who probably saved him: wtf (in “adoption”)

Bruce, seeing Danny’s skin glitter like stars, hair aflame, and pointy ears: wtf (in “I can adopt fae folk, right?”)

Bruce, seeing that Danny doesn’t leave any footprints: wtffff (detective mind goes brrrr)

——

Bruce, after Danny leaves: *donates 20 mil towards beach clean up efforts and anti-pollution causes*

——

Bruce’s Goggle Search History, documented by Oracle:

Sea spirits

Sea vampires

How to parent supernatural kids

How to thank your sea child

Are shells a good gift?

Ocean conservation efforts

Sea spirits that glitters under moonlight

Sea spirits that cleans up beaches

Wayne corporation waste disposal

Companies that dump trash into the sea

*outgoing call to Lucius Fox*

What is “mean girls”

——

Bruce, learning “current pop culture” from his kids:

Bruce, remembering the kid who saved him and realizing he’s probably as old as his own kids are: *adoption tendencies intensifies*

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Okay but imagine sex pollen with Miguel fucking you on your back and then even when he cums he just keeps going and it’s spilling out and refractory period who and you’re overstimulated and he’s like no no you’re not allowed to tap out and he — and he —!!!!!

Sorry

MONA. You put me in a fucking MOOD LMFAO This is way longer than I intended. And its pure filth 🫣

Word Count: 2k+

NSFW below the cut.

Part 2

...

Earth 703- A post-apocalyptic world in which New York was nothing more than a ferocious jungle.

You stared off into the distance, the familiar city skyline overrun by wild flora and thick green vines sneaking in through broken windows and cracked concrete. 

“What the fuck.” You whispered to yourself, eyes now trained on the massive dragonfly that whizzed by you. Miguel grunted, punching a large finger over the screen of his watch.

The mission was supposed to be simple: Catch the anomaly—send them back to their own universe—go home. That’s it. No detours, no distractions. In and out.

“Are we close?” You questioned, pressing up against Miguel’s side at the sight of another massive insect, “I wanna get the hell outta here.”

“We just missed him.” He sucked his teeth. His mask disappeared in a flash of digital pixels to reveal his scowling face, narrowed red eyes and brows furrowed in frustration.

You’ve been wandering around the city for forty-five minutes, trekking through the godforsaken jungle with no luck. The anomaly, a Prowler from some random universe (you couldn’t remember, you weren’t paying attention at the meeting), was clever, quickwitted, and inconspicuous. You’d wished Miguel had chosen Jess for this one, but he’d refused. He’d used the excuse of her pregnancy but really, she’d already complained to you beforehand that the humidity would do her hair no favors. 

“What now?” You questioned, plopping down at the base of a bulky tree trunk a few feet away. The trees were so massive that the branches seemed to kiss the sky, monstrous green leaves blocking out most of the morning sunlight.

“Keep lookin’,” he huffed, running his fingers through his hair, “we’re getting close.”

“Miguel,” you whined, your head thumping back against the trunk, “you said that forty-five minutes ago.”

“Get up,” he demanded, shooting out a web of electric red to swiftly pull you toward him. You yelped, crossing the distance within seconds, crashing into Miguel's sturdy body.

“I hate when you do that.” Your words were muffled by his broad chest, peeling your sweaty cheek away from the synthetic material of his suit. The tiniest smile ghosted over his lips. 

“I know.” 

… 

You’d left Miguel on his own for a few minutes. 

You’d gotten distracted, swinging up into one of the treetops to observe one of the colorful parrots squawking in the distance. It’d looked just like the ones back home, except this one was enormous, probably bigger than a medium-sized dog. 

“Fuck!” You’d heard Miguel yell from down below, spitting out curses in Spanish, choking on the words as coughs racked his body. He’d been waving his hands in front of his face to clear his vision to no avail. You watched as his body reacted immediately to whatever it was that ailed him, his body hunching over as if in pain.

“Miguel!” You dropped to your feet in front of him and attempted to reach for him, but he recoiled, fearing your touch. 

“Stay back!” he wheezed, crouching down and holding his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“It hurts,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as his body trembled, his fingers weaving through his thick hair strands to violently tug from the root.

“Stop,” you scolded, getting on your knees in front of him to pry his hands away, “tell me what’s wrong so that I can help you.” You shoved him down by the shoulders so that he was sitting with his knees out, bringing a hand to his face and yanking it up by his chin. His eyes, normally a mahogany shade glowed a disturbing red, his pupils dilated. 

“Ran into a plant,” he forced the words from his throat, his skin gleaming with sweat, “s-some flower, I don’t know, some kind of pollen.” He groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shit, ok, ok, ok, we can fix this,” you panicked, placing the back of your hand against his forehead. He was burning, skin blistering hot. “Where does it hurt.”

Miguel remained silent, breathing harshly through his nostrils as beads of sweat began to trickle down his face. He looked down between his legs and you followed his line of vision. Oh. OH.

His bulge was tenting through his suit, fighting against the restraints of the digital fabric. The area glimmered brightly before his cock burst through the pixels, flopping out and twitching with need.

Miguel was big. 

His cock stood tall and proud, bobbing against his stomach, the tip leaking a thin bead of precum that ran down his length. 

You stared for a moment, transfixed on the angry red tip before you found your voice. “Miguel—”

“You need to go,” he spat viciously, his fangs protruding as if to scare you away, “if you don't I’ll—” He stopped himself, lips pressed into a tight line as his chest began to heave. You could hear his heart rate accelerate with every passing second.

“Let me help you,” you whispered, your hand hovering over his cock. He looked away from you, his skin flushed from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. “Miguel, please, let me help you.”

“I don’t want to force—”

“You’re not forcing me,” you breathed, letting the pad of your finger tap against his tip, smearing his precum over the surface. Your cunt throbbed, squeezing tight with an overwhelming desire to be filled. “I want to.” You cooed, your tone causing his eyes to flutter. 

Miguel grunted, grabbing your hand and placing it over his throbbing cock.

“Then help me.” He hissed.

…

You needed a new suit. Immediately.

Miguel had torn into it, ripping the seams apart from the crotch, all the way up to your neck, revealing your chest and glistening pussy. You had no time to complain, mewling when he spread your thighs apart with his large hands, his eyes trained on the heat between your legs before diving in to eat from you.

You squealed, your hands flying to his head as he kissed and licked and spit over your cunt, his nose pressing against your clit. His tongue dipped into your hole a few times before licking one long stripe up to your bundle of nerves, swirling his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth.

Okay—you’ve had your pussy eaten before, but goddamn never like this, never like it was a matter of life or death, as if your pussy alone was the answer to all things.

Miguel continued his ministrations, releasing a growl every few moments, licking to oblivion until you thought his jaw would lock. 

He made you see stars, groaning loudly as you gushed into his mouth. He savored your tangy taste as he lapped at your wet folds, making sure to lick up every drop he could find. 

His mouth and chin were soaked in your juices when he came back up, and it shot a fresh wave of arousal through your veins. His hand reached out to cup your face, his thumb smearing over the traces of his cum dotting across your cheek when you’d sucked him off earlier, catching some of it in your mouth before he'd pulled out, wanting to paint your face with it at the last moment. 

He dipped his thumb into your mouth, forcing you to clean it as he slid his cock over your messy pussy, smearing the underside in your juices. His body shook with need, his eyes glazed and lidded, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he whimpered something about you being so wet.

He pulled out his thumb from your mouth with a pop and watched how you panted underneath him, your exposed skin now covered in a sheen of sweat.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, positioning your legs over his shoulders before draping himself over you, folding you in half, “I’m sorry if I’m not gentle.”

Gentle? You were a big girl, you didn’t need him to be—

You cried out as soon as he pressed his fat head into your tiny hole, forcing your pussy to open up for him as he pushed in deeper without giving you much time to adjust.

“Fuck,” you sobbed, your hands scrambling to grip his arms as he began to thrust his hips, dragging his cock in and out of you at a bruising pace. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Miguel began to babble, grunting when your cunt squeezed the life from him, the slick noises of your drenched pussy egging him on. 

Maybe…gentle would have been nice knowing now how big he was, but you understood the circumstances of the situation. This was meant to be anything but gentle.

He had you coming again, your back arching and your bare chest pressing against his clothed one before he filled you with his own spend, pushing it as deep as he could into you. He pulled out harshly causing you to moan, watching his cum leak from your swollen pussy before slapping his length over your folds a few times and dipping back in.

He fucked you harder this time until your pussy throbbed and burned from the size of him, filling you up with so much of his cum, and delighting in the way it dripped out of you. 

“Again.” He grunted, pushing his cock into your convulsing walls, slamming in deep as he licked and sucked on your nipples, leaving red love marks over your skin. You sobbed from the pleasure, feeling his weight push you into the ground.

“I can’t!” You cried, pushing weakly against his shoulders.

“You can and you will.” Miguel commanded. He couldn’t stop, barely giving you a minute to catch your breath after making you both cum again before sinking into your searing heat, stretching you beyond your limits.

You were lightheaded and spent, losing count of the number of orgasms he’d given you. Miguel growled, pulling out his cock from your abused hole and shooting his load over your body. He pressed it into your skin, smearing it over your breasts and tender nipples, down your abdomen, and finally, over your burning pussy. 

He paused, his eyes tracing over your fucked out form before reaching down to pump himself with the leftover cum in his hand.

“I’m sorry, Hermosa,” he whispered, draping himself over you again, “I can’t stop, you feel too good. So fucking tight.” He slurped your nipple into his hot mouth, sucking the taste of him from your skin as he pushed his large cock into you. 

Your eyes fluttered and you cried out, your fingers digging into the earth, focusing on nothing but Miguel's rich voice:

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m—

…

It was nightfall by the time Miguel was satiated.

You felt weak, eyes heavy with sleep and body limp. Miguel sat against a tree and had you cradled in his arms, your body nestled comfortably between his legs. He rested his head over yours, inhaling the scent of sweat and dirt trapped in your hair. 

“See that flower?” He muttered, pointing straight ahead at a few giant white daisies clustering around a tree. They were massive, like everything else in that universe, the stems taller than Miguel when he was standing at his full height. You nodded sleepily, ignoring the ache in your still exposed cunt. “Don’t go near it.”

“Got it.” You absentmindedly played with the frayed pieces of your suit, letting Miguel shield your exposed skin from the elements.

You probably should’ve left already, should’ve gone back to HQ for a much-needed shower and rest, probably schedule another meeting, but Miguel wouldn’t budge, his grip on you tightening whenever you so much as shifted against him.

“Quèdate quieta.” He grunted.

“Miguel,” you protested, “we have to go home. The anomaly—”

“I know, hermosa,” he murmured softly, “I know.” You never seen him this soft before, nor speak in such a gentle way, not with anyone and least of all, not with you.

You both sat there in silence, processing what happened while listening to the sounds of the jungle, the birds chirping in the distance, the leaves rustling in the gentle wind. You sighed, playing with his interlocked fingers over your stomach. It was strangely intimate (despite everything else that happened), having him coddle you. 

“Miguel?”

“Mm?” 

“You better get me a suit like yours.” 

“What’s wrong with the fabric ones from HQ?”

“It’s a waste if you’re just gonna rip it off again.” You heard him snort out a breath, just the tiniest thing that implied he understood your meaning. You were hoping this wouldn’t be the first nor last time you’d be under him. “We got a deal?” 

Miguel chuckled, his hand leaving the safety of your abdomen to venture down into your sopping-wet folds. You bit your lip, spreading your tired thighs, whimpering as his thick fingers swirled inside.

“Deal, Hermosa.”

...

Quèdate quieta- Keep still

[obsessivevoidkitten]

How The Elf Saved Christmas

Yandere Rudolph The Red-Nosed Deertaur x Gender Neutral Elf Reader CW: Painful Noncon, nonhuman genitalia, size difference, possessive behavior, possessive sex, jealous behavior, general yandere behavior, rut cycle, reader fucked big stupid, overstimulation, cum as lube, mention of musk Word Count: 1.3k (This is your Christmas gift from me, I hope you enjoy it <3)

It was one of the earliest years since the start of the Christmas holiday. Rudolph had just recently joined the other deertaurs that drew Santa's sleigh. Not only did he have the magic ability to fly like the others, but he also could produce a fog and snow dispelling light from his nose. He was perfect to lead the sleigh.

Well... almost perfect.

A week into December, he started acting out. Behaving aggressively towards the other deertaurs, secluding himself, and acting unusually possessive over the elf who had been assigned as his servant.

That was you. You brought him his meals and made sure he was comfortable. Normally Rudolph was very low maintenance and your job was exceedingly easy. He was always considerate of you and treated you very kindly.

But lately, Rudolph wouldn't let you out of his sight. And snapped at anyone who got near you, especially if you happened to walk by another deertaur. One time, he even looked as if he was about to stab at Blitzen with his antlers.

The reindeer even looked different. His normally kind brown eyes were more frenzied and dilated. The normally straight, soft, brown hair of his human half was unkempt. And his muscular human body was always tense.

The other deer-men knew what was going on. But it wasn't like they could get near you to tell you.

Rudolph was in rut.

And he had determined, subconsciously, that you were going to be his mate.

The other deer hybrids had gone to Santa and apprised him of the situation, but he chose to do nothing about it. Forcefully taking away a rutting deer's love interest could get very dangerous.

Besides, Christmas was fast approaching, and the fastest way out of rut was for Rudolph to satisfy his urges. And really, what was the comfort of one elf compared to the enormity of the holiday? Christmas was at stake.

In your employee contract, you had agreed to uphold the sanctity of the holiday and do everything in your power to keep Christmas safe and running smoothly. If that meant you had to be a cocksleeve for a deertaur to keep his head clear so he could guide the sleigh, then so be it.

But even Rudolph didn't know why he was so irritable or why he was so odd in his behavior towards you. Why the thought of you being near someone else or out of his side filled him with rage and anxiety.

You were completely distressed. Your boss was acting so differently towards you. You couldn't even return to your little hut. Normally, you would be dismissed at nights but Rudolph wouldn't let you leave.

Instead, you were made to sleep in his house and on his soft, low to the ground bedding.

One morning, about a week away from Christmas, you both learned why he was behaving in such an egregious manner.

Rudolph woke up before you did and something about the way you lay sprawled out with your butt up in the air and your pants slightly falling off. You woke something up in him.

All his instincts shouted at him to breed this elf that was presenting themself to him. To claim you as his mate officially.

Careful not to wake you, because he didn't want you to struggle until it was too late, he pulled your red and green pants and candy cane striped underwear down to your knees. Then he proceeded to lower himself over you until he was in position.

You were ripped violently from your dreams as extreme pain rammed through you. Rudolph, now at the height of his rut, had jammed in all in one go and with no prep.

Your tiny elf body squirmed and writhed in confusion and pain, the frantic struggles sending waves of pleasure through his cock which was embedded so well within you.

"Wha-what are you d-doing?" You squeaked out through the pain.

He didn't bother replying.

Rudolph's body was all you could see above you as his strong thrusts moved you back and forth below him.

The act was raw, instinctive, and possessive. Like your personhood was being fucked away by this being much larger than you until you were reduced to his property.

Screams for help barely escaped your body. They went unanswered. Even if someone had heard you Santa would have told them to steer clear.

You cried and sobbed, powerless to remove the brute who was raping you. Though it seemed he finally had noticed the cries of his partner through his rut.

He slowed down his pace, just a bit.

Snow elves were small but extremely resilient and adaptable. That fact, combined with a slightly slower rhythm allowed you to feel a bit of pleasure as your body adjusted.

"Fuck! You feel so tight! You're just so small~ Gotta fill you with cum. Gotta breed. Gotta breed. Gotta breed..."

You whimpered as the deer man lost himself in his carnal desire to fuck you silly.

He slowed down as he came in you, and you thought you could relax. You went limp, but before you could catch your breath he started pounding into you with renewed vigor, roughly pounding you into the bedding.

Cum leaked down your thighs as his heavy balls smacked you. The smell of his musk filled the air and made you a slight bit dizzy.

The seed from the first round of breeding had lubricated you nicely, and he slid in and out of you in a much more pleasurable manner.

"You take me so fucking well!"

Your crying and sobbing gradually turned into gasps and shudders of pleasure as over the course of the next several hours you came over and over until you couldn't react anymore.

You just lay there and take, completely senseless and overstimulated. Weeping not from pain but from the sensations of seemingly endless mating.

Finally he came in you hard and left himself in a while before pulling out completely. His dick left you with a lewd squelch as at least a gallon of semen dripped from your well worn hole.

For the first time in weeks he finally felt somewhat clear headed.

"Gosh, I'm so sorry."

Rudolph picked you up, cleaned you, and fed you. You were too tired to protest.

The deertaur was remarkably tender for someone who had just taken you against your will, treating you like a snowflake that would vanish under the slightest mistreatment.

It was odd being served by him for a change. But you were too out of it to really give it much thought.

"I'm sorry I wasn't more gentle. But I'm not sorry that you're my mate now."

He was still in rut, and every single day leading up to Christmas Eve, he made you endure an hours long breeding session. You smelled just like him. As if his scent was ingrained in you at a cellular level.

Luckily, his rut ended just in time for him to be able to complete his job, guiding the sleigh without a hitch.

You tried to escape while he was out with Santa, but the higher up elves informed you that you had a new assignment.

You had to live with Rudolph permanently to make sure he never got wild again. His partner had to live with him. If they took you from him now, even outside of rut, he'd go insane. And he performed a very important task by leading the sleigh.

You should have felt honored. Not many elves got to personally save Christmas.

[theostrophywife]

green with envy.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

request: omg i need more of theo x reader with a hint of flirty draco

song inspiration: jealous by nick jonas.

author's note: ask and you shall receive. here's draco scheming to make theo jealous, which we all know won't end well. happy new year's my loves. we're staring 2024 off with a bang 😉

“Merlin, they can’t possibly be serious.” Draco muttered in disbelief. “Those two truly aren’t fooling anyone.”

Blaise glanced up from his book, searching for the cause of Malfoy’s offense. The Three Broomsticks was packed, but it wasn’t hard to spot the reason for his friend’s griping. Tucked into a secluded corner of the tavern, you and Theo gravitated towards each other like magnets, leaning into one another, foreheads pressed together, talking and laughing like you were the only people in the world. 

It had been this way ever since Blaise could remember.

As always, Theo wore that stupid love-struck expression on his face as he listened to you talk, chuckling softly as you waved your arms around animatedly. You, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to the pining and yearning coming from Nott’s end. Anyone with an ounce of common sense could see that Theo was clearly in love with you, yet you remained blind to his affections. 

“They’ve made it very clear that they’re just friends,” Blaise replied, repeating the same tired words that you and Theodore declared over and over again over the course of your friendship.

“And you believe them?” 

“Of course not.” Blaise affirmed as he flipped through the pages of his book once more. “But who am I to burst their blissful bubble of ignorance?” 

“They’re clearly in denial,” Draco remarked, watching intently as you picked a nonexistent piece of lint off of Theo’s quidditch sweater. “It’s been seven years of this pathetic teetering between will they or won’t they territory. I can’t stomach another day of it, Blaise. Someone needs to do something.” 

“Whatever half-arsed plan you’ve cooked up in that ferret brain of yours, I want no part in it.” 

Draco tapped his fingers against the wooden table, a familiar smirk curving at his lips. Blaise sighed in exasperation. He knew that look. He hated that look. It usually meant that Malfoy was hatching a scheme that spelled nothing but trouble for Blaise. 

“I’m serious, Draco.” Blaise said in a stern voice.

“So am I,” the blonde replied. “Those two need a push and I’m more than willing to provide it for them.” 

“I already know that I’m going to regret asking, but what exactly are you planning?” 

Draco smirked. Blaise swore to Salazar that there was an evil gleam in his friend’s eyes as he turned over to face him. “I’m going to flirt with Y/N.” 

“Are you mental?” Blaise exclaimed. “Nott will send you to an early grave. Did you see what he did to Pucey for trying to chat Y/N up? Poor bastard had to eat his meals through a straw for weeks.”

“Then I guess it’s your job to prevent that from happening, Zabini.” 

There were a million protests on Blaise’s lips. Everyone knew that Theo was overprotective of his best friend. It was an unspoken rule that you were off-limits and Blaise had seen first hand the consequences that befell anyone that dared to hit on you. It usually ended with someone in the infirmary and that someone was never Theo. 

Draco was well aware of this fact as well, but he seemed to have a death wish. Before Blaise could stop him, Malfoy scooped two glasses of butterbeer from the counter and made his way over to you just as Theo excused himself for a smoke. You looked up just as Draco slipped into the booth, sliding beside you to take up the vacant spot your best friend left. 

“Fancy seeing you here, Y/N.” 

“Hi, Dray.” You greeted the blonde with a smile. “I didn’t know you were here, too.” 

“How could you?” He drawled playfully. “Theodore seems content keeping you all to himself.” 

You rolled your eyes fondly. “You could’ve easily just come over to join us.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing, darling.” Draco set a mug of ice cold butterbeer down in front of you. “And I brought your favorite.” 

“How sweet of you.” You beamed, totally unaware of his schemes as you clinked your glass against his. “Cheers, Draco.” 

“Cheers, Y/N.” 

The sweetness of the butterbeer lingered on your tongue and the foam rested on your upper lip as you savored the taste. Your tongue peeked out, trying to lick the remnants away. Silver eyes flashed mischievously as he clocked the action, a smirk curling against his lips. 

“Here, let me.” Draco brushed his thumb over your upper lip, wiping away the foam with ease. His fingers were soft and featherlight and nothing like the calloused feel of Theo’s hands. 

Your best friend had a bad habit of burning his fingertips from the countless blunts and cigarettes he smoked. Despite the fact that you offered to heal them with magic, Theo always refused. He said it made him more manly. Though you rolled your eyes at him, you found that you didn’t really mind his scars and calluses. It only made him that much more endearing. Why you were thinking of Theo while another man was touching you, you had no idea. Or perhaps you did and you were just in deep, deep denial about it. 

“Have I lost you, love?” 

With a blink, you found yourself staring back at Malfoy. “Sorry, Draco. What were you saying?” 

“I asked if you were using a new shampoo,” said your friend. He twirled a strand of your hair between his fingers, using the ends to tickle your cheek. “Your hair smells divine.” 

You paused, narrowing your eyes at Draco. “What are you doing, Dray?” 

“I’m not doing anything.” 

“You’re up to something.” 

That much was obvious to you. Years of friendship told you just as much. Draco was currently plotting something. Before you could question him further, a shadow loomed over the both of you. When Theo had left for his smoke break, he was carefree and grinning, but now tension colored your best friend’s features. As he glared down at Draco, Theo clenched his jaw and balled his fists at his side.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Malfoy.” 

“Teddy, he was just helping me with—“ 

“Draco doesn’t need to help you with anything.” Theo’s eyes flashed with anger, the blues and greens of his irises turning stormy as his gaze dropped to the lock of hair tangled through Draco’s fingers. “What he needs is to walk away before I break his fucking jaw.” 

Draco raised his palms up. “I don’t want any trouble, Nott.” 

Despite his statement, you sensed that trouble was exactly what Draco was aiming for. Instead of walking away like he should’ve, Malfoy leaned over and kissed your cheek in parting, which only further incensed Theo. If you hadn’t grabbed hold of the end of his coat, Theo would’ve hurled himself at Draco and punched the cocky smirk off of your friend’s face. 

You tugged at Theo and placed yourself between him and Draco, watching as the blonde returned to the table Blaise was currently sitting at. For good measure, he winked at the two of you as though Theo wasn’t already pissed enough as it was. 

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” Theo’s gaze flickered back to you, his eyes darkening as they met yours. 

“Why the fuck are you letting him touch you like that?” 

The bite in his voice puzzled you. Theo never snapped at you, so you weren’t quite sure how to react. He almost sounded…jealous. Not that Theo had any reason to be. Right?

“What are you on about? Draco was literally just wiping the foam off of my mouth. It’s not a big deal.” 

Downplaying the interaction seemed to rile Theo up even further. “Yes it fucking is,” he gritted out. “He’s flirting with you, Y/N. How can you not see that?” 

The accusation of Draco Malfoy flirting with you was entirely laughable. Though you were accustomed to Theo’s overzealous tendencies, you usually didn’t mind his overprotectiveness since it deterred creepy guys from making advances towards you. But this was Draco, for Godric’s sake. You’ve known each other since you were in diapers. There was no way in hell he was actually trying to make a move on you. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Teddy. Malfoy was not flirting with me.” 

“Of course he was! Did you not see the way he looked at you? The bloody git was all over you, playing with your hair, touching your lips. I should his bash his fucking head in for even glancing in your direction.“ 

The rest of Theo’s rant was incoherent, a mixture between English and Italian curses that drew the attention of those around you. With a grimace, you tugged Theo towards the back of the Three Broomsticks. He continued swearing as you led him away, dead eyes filled with fury as you ushered him into the bathroom. 

There was a murderous expression on his face as he spewed threats and curses. You locked the door behind you, sighing as you surveyed the angry boy before you. Knowing Theo, his constant ranting would only fuel the fire of his anger. You needed to calm him down before he made good on his promise to pummel Draco into the ground. 

Unfortunately, Theo had already worked himself up to a fit. A frown was evident on his face, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists, the veins on his forearms protruding as violence threatened to spill over. You said his name a few times, but he didn’t seem to hear you. He was too angry to take notice. 

While dealing with an angry Theo was by no means a new occurrence for you, it seemed harder to pull him out of it this time. You had never seen him this furious. A small part of you was mad at his overreaction, but another part of you was oddly flattered that he cared so much. 

Perhaps it was foolish to do so, but you relished in the fact that such a small action could elicit such a response from him. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve surmised that Theo was acting out of jealousy. His possessive behavior had always given you a strange sort of thrill. It made you feel wanted, it made you feel desired, and that in itself was more dangerous than any drug. 

“Theodore.” 

Theo paced back and forth, contemplating acts of violence against one of his oldest and closest friends.

“Theo.” 

He wondered how much trouble he’d get into for beating Draco into a bloody pulp. Would they suspend him? Theo reckoned it would be worth it. 

“Teddy.” 

The sight of Draco brushing foam off of your lips flashed through his mind again, playing on a torturous loop. Malfoy didn’t get to touch you like that. No one got to touch you like that. At least not without Theo breaking every bone in their hand. 

“Oh for Salazar’s fucking sake.” 

You grabbed the front of Theo’s sweater and dragged him down to your level. There was absolutely no thought process behind your actions besides stopping his rant. With your lips pressed firmly against his, you accomplished just that. Theo froze for a second, his eyes fluttering close as you kissed him. The tension left his body, his anger melting away to give room for a different sort of heat to spread through him. 

The minute his body language changed, you pulled away. Theo looked down at you, his dead eyes burning with searing passion. You felt his gaze piercing right through you. There was danger lurking within him. Like he was the predator and you were the prey. You’ve never seen him look like that before. Theo looked…feral. Theo looked hungry. 

“I’m sorry, Teddy. I was just trying to calm you down—”

You reeled back as Theo cupped your face in his hands and smashed your lips together once more. This time, there was no surprise in the kiss. There was just fervent passion, arduous desire, and mutual destruction between you. Theo didn’t kiss you like he wanted you. He kissed you like he needed you. 

As he pinned you against the wall, Theo gripped your hips and pressed his body against yours. The kisses grew sloppy and desperate, the two of you scrabbling for more. You groaned as his erection brushed against your thigh, leaving him the perfect opening to slide his tongue past the seam of your lips. You were vaguely aware of banging into the pictures on the walls, the sound of them clattering to the ground registering somewhere in the back of your mind. 

The two of you were like a tornado, knocking decor and toiletries around as you continued to sloppily make out. You were sure that you were making enough noise to alert the whole tavern. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care as Theo bit down on your bottom lip. You moaned into his mouth as he set you down on the counter. One hand gripped your throat while the other slipped underneath your skirt. 

Theo dragged you closer by your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as he grinded his hardness against your throbbing core. 

“Malfoy couldn’t touch you like this, bella.” The low rasp of his voice sent shivers down your spine. His hold on you was possessive and utterly fucking sexy. Heat rushed between your thighs as his fingers tightened around your throat. “Only I can touch you like this. Do you understand, dolcezza?” 

“Yes,” you answered breathlessly. “It’s you, Teddy. Only you.” 

Pleased with your response, Theo smirked as he ripped off your tights. Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head when he rubbed his hand against your clothed sex. He palmed you through your panties, swearing when he felt how wet you were for him. 

“You’re fucking mine,” he growled against your ear while he slid your panties to the side and teased along your folds. Slender fingers curled inside of you, eliciting a filthy moan that echoed through the walls. “This is all for me.” 

Watercolour eyes seized the breath from your lungs. The declaration hung in the air with finality. There was no room for question or doubt. Theo was merely stating the truth.

You were his. You always have been. 

Theo withdrew his hand, fingers dripping with your arousal. He refused to break eye contact as he stuck them into his mouth, licking each digit clean. 

You whimpered, pulling him in by his belt loop. He moaned as you impatiently tugged his jeans down, palming him through his boxers. He felt big. Bigger than you’ve ever had before. 

But you wanted it. You wanted him. 

“I need you, Theo. Please.” 

“I’m yours, Y/N.” Theo panted into your mouth as you released his cock from the constraints of his boxers. “Always.” 

You swallowed thickly as you looked down at his impressive size. His cock was hard and throbbing in your hands, precum leaking from the tip. Theo was massive. You had no idea how he was going to fit. Still, the challenge thrilled you. 

Spreading your legs open, you bit your lip as Theo positioned the head of his cock at your entrance. He kissed your lips sweetly before pulling back and nuzzling his nose against yours. 

“Deep breaths, baby.” You nodded, inhaling and exhaling as he pushed the tip in. “You’re so tight. Gonna let me stretch you wide open, bella?”

Tears pricked at your eyes as he breached your walls, stretching you just between the line of pain and pleasure. “You’re so big, Theo. I don't—I don't know if it’s going to fit.” 

“We’ll make it fit, Y/N,” he promised, pushing further in and groaning as your walls hugged tightly around him. “Just like that. You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” 

Once Theo was fully sheathed inside of you, his movements stilled. He caressed your cheek and pecked your lips. “Can I move, baby?” 

“Yes,” you exhaled. 

“Good girl.” 

You fluttered at his words and Theo cursed as your walls gripped him like a vice. “Fuck, pretty pussy’s squeezing me so tight. You drive me fucking insane, you know that? I get so jealous of anyone who even looks at you.” 

“I like when you get jealous,” you admitted, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. “You’re sexy when you’re angry.” 

Theo flipped you over so that you were facing the mirror. As you gripped the marble countertop, he thrusted sharply inside of you and watched as your face contorted into pleasure. Whispering praises into your ear, Theo picked up the pace. He intertwined your fingers together and placed each palm against the mirror.

“Open your eyes, bella. I want you to watch while I ruin you.” 

Your eyes snapped to your reflection, taking in your flushed cheeks and mussed hair. Behind you, Theo fucked into you with a punishing pace. He groaned as he watched himself slide in and out of you, relishing at the perfect fit. It was like you were made for him. As your moans grew louder, Theo stuffed his fingers down your throat and gagged you. 

“God, fuck.” Theo hissed, his eyes meeting yours in the reflection. “Harder, baby. You can take it. Let me fuck out my frustrations.” 

“You. Belong. To. Me.” 

Theo punctuated every word with a thrust, hitting the sweet spot within your walls with each rut. 

“I’m yours, Teddy.” You said breathlessly. “All yours.” 

He smiled, placing a tender kiss against your neck as his fingers slipped between your legs. Theo rubbed at your clit, urging you closer and closer to your orgasm. 

“Are you close, principessa? I can feel you squeezing me, milking me dry. Take it all, dolcezza. You’re mine, but I’m yours too.” 

“My hands are yours.” Theo squeezed your tits, flicking his thumb over your nipples.

“My lips are yours.” He angled your chin towards him, claiming your mouth with open mouthed kisses.

“My cock is yours.” He drove deeper inside of you, making you arch as you cried out his name. 

Theo swallowed your moans before capturing your lips with his. “My heart is yours, too.” 

“It’s all yours, Y/N.”

Your heart squeezed at his declaration. Nothing had ever sounded more beautiful than Theo pledging every part of himself to you.  

“Oh god. Fuck, Theo. Please. I’m gonna cum.” 

“Cum for me, bella.” 

Stars dotted your vision as the orgasm rocked through your body. Theo kissed your neck, marking his territory, while you squeezed around him. The heat of his touch seared your skin as he held you. If it weren’t for his strong arms wrapped around you, you would’ve collapsed. 

“So fucking perfect,” Theo said between pants. “My beautiful girl.” 

Your name tumbled off of Theo’s lips as he came. It was the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. Coming from the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen. 

The two of you slid down to the floor. Theo wrapped an arm around you, cheeks red and hair disheveled. His pretty eyes fluttered open as he traced over the hickies and bruises he’d left on your body, admiring each mark gently. With his brows scrunched with concern, he brushed a thumb over the bite mark on your shoulder. 

“Was I too rough?” Theo whispered, kissing over the spot. “Did I hurt you, Y/N?”

You smiled at his gentleness, smoothing at the worry lines creasing his forehead. “No, it was perfect. God, you're fucking hot when you're jealous.” 

Theo chuckled, kissing the inside of your wrist. The playfulness in his expression faltered as concern and hesitation bled through. “Did you—I mean, fuck, did you enjoy it? I didn’t—you still want to be my friend, right?” 

“No.” 

Theo felt his heart drop down to his stomach. He’d fucked it up. The one good thing in his life and he’d fucked it up. You brushed your fingers over his cheekbones, tilting his chin so that you were face to face. 

“I want to be so much more than just your friend, Teddy.” The sigh of relief that he released made you grin. You leaned in, giving him a soft peck on the lips. “My heart is yours, too. It’s always been yours.” 

The weight of his smile made your heart ache. “Now that you know how I feel, there’s no need to be jealous anymore.” 

“Are you kidding? I’m going to be even more insufferable now. I need everyone to know that you’re mine.” 

“They already know, Teddy. We were the only ones living in denial.” 

“We made it pretty damn obvious, didn’t we?” 

“You threatened every guy who dared to even look at me.”

“Please,” Theo started, a smile tugging at his lips. “I saw the dirty looks you gave to the girls who tried to flirt with me.” 

You chuckled. “Okay, so maybe we’re both a little…”

“Possessive? Obsessed? Head over heels insane for each other?” 

“All of the above.” You declared, tugging at his hand. “Now come on, Teddy. Before someone figures out what we were really doing in here.” 

“I think they know, love.” Theo teased. “You were pretty loud.” 

“Like you weren’t loud yourself, Nott.” 

You rolled your eyes fondly as he helped you up. Theo straightened your skirt and smoothed your hair down, kissing your temple. He reached for the doorknob with one hand and linked his fingers with yours with the other. 

Fortunately, there weren’t too many people waiting for the loo. You would’ve been embarrassed to walk out together hand in hand, but Theo made sure that every set of prying eyes quickly found something else to look at. With a cheeky grin, he lifted your knuckles to his lips and placed a lingering kiss upon your skin. 

As you walked out into the main hall, a wolf-whistle rang out from one of the tables. Draco raised a toast in your direction while Blaise shook his head. 

“Can’t believe that half-arsed plan of yours actually worked,” Zabini said. 

Theo furrowed his brows. “What plan?” 

“The one where Malfoy flirts with Y/N in an attempt to make you jealous.” 

“I knew you were up to something,” you said with narrowed eyes. “What an idiotic plan.” 

“Is it idiotic if it worked?” 

Theo shook his head in disbelief. “You’re mental, Malfoy. I truly considered tearing you to pieces.” 

“You’re welcome,” Draco said with a smirk. “Clearly that jealousy was put to good use.” 

The blonde winked at you, making Theo’s fingers tighten around yours. “Oh, Teddy’s going to kill you. This time, I have no plans of stopping him.” 

Draco’s silver eyes widened as you released Theo. “Zabini? A little help here?” 

“I’d start running if I were you, Malfoy.” 

Without hesitation, Draco bolted out the door. You snickered as the blonde disappeared down the snowy street, his platinum blonde head bobbing through the crowd. To his credit, Theo gave him a proper head start. 

“I’ll be right back, dolcezza.” 

“Don’t be gone too long, Teddy.” Theo smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss on your lips. “And try not to hurt Draco too badly, yeah?” 

Despite his pout, Theo nodded as you tugged him down for a proper kiss. He smiled against your lips before peppering kisses on your nose and cheeks.

“Fine, but only because you asked nicely, principessa.” 

You smiled, watching as Theo chased after Draco. Beside you, Blaise grinned. 

“It’s about damn time.” 

With a flush, you rolled your eyes at your friend. “Oh shut it, Zabini.” 

TAGLIST

@annaisabookworm @marina468 @yaraasthings @the0doreslover @bubybubsters @moony-artemis @natasha887 @lucyysthings @criesinlies @bunnymallowo @niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl @wordsarelife @clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar@moonflowersandsparkles

[alixezae]

Staring ๋࣭⭑ ryomen sukuna x reader

Synopsis: ever since you got pregnant you've never felt so happy in your life and ryomen by your side the king of curses soft for you and the baby, but that doesn't change the fact the ryomen kills whoever and whomever touches you and your swollen belly

Warnings: slight mention of murder, pet names (wife, queen, sun) - reader being a sweetheart, fluff, sukina being soft for reader, heian era

As the sun slowly crept above the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the land, a soft gentle breeze rustled through the cherry blossom trees that dotted the lush, emerald green hillsides of heian-kyõ. The air was filled with the intoxicating scent of their delicate pink petals, which fluttered like confetti across the verdant landscape. In the distance, the gentle hum of bees busily collecting nectar from flowers created a soothing, almost meditative atmosphere

It was on this idyllic morning ryomen, the king of curses, awoke from his slumber, the warmth of the sun caressing his soft pink hair, he stretched languidly, yawning wide before blinking several times to clear his sleep from his vivid red eyes. His gaze drifted over to the figure of his beloved wife, the queen, as she lay curled up in a makeshift bed they had fashioned for her. Her swollen belly rose and fell gently with each breath she took

Ryomen nuzzled her gently, careful not to disturb her rest. He couldn't help but marvel at the miracle growing inside her, her tiny life that would soon be a part of their world. A pang of guilt shot through him as he remembered the countless times he had been to defend her and their child from those who dare harm them. But he knew that he would do it again and again, a thousand times over, if it meant keeping them safe.

As he watched her sleep, he felt a wave of tenderness wash over him. Despite the hard exterior he often presented, he was deeply in love with his wife, the queen, and cherished her more than anything else in the world. He had never known such happiness as he did with her by his side, and the thought of losing her, or worse, their child, filled him with dread.

She woke from her slumber and saw his eyes filled with tenderness she kissed his cheeks softly and he smiled, she was amazed by the tenderness and care that ryomen showed during her pregnancy. He would place his hand gently on he swollen belly, feeling the baby move and kick. His eyes would soften with love and adoration, and he would whisper sweet words to both his wife and their child. Despite his fearsome reputation, ryomen was a devoted and loving husband, eager to protect and cherish his growing family.

As days passed, y/n and ryomen prepared for the arrival of their little one. The palace was filled with joy, the married couple basking in the happiness of their new life together. Y/n's heart swelled with love for her husband, grateful for his love and support throughout her pregnancy.

However, despite their happiness, there was always an underlying sense of danger surrounding ryomen. The king of curses was fiercely protective of his wife and their unborn child, and he made it clear that he would not hesitate to eliminate anyone who posed a threat to them. He gaze was sharp and unyielding, his power palpable as he stood guard over y/n wnd their precious baby.

Y/n, known as the queen of the palace, was a gentle and kind-hearted woman who radiated warmth and love. She was adored by all who knew her, her sweet nature and caring personality making her a beloved figure in the heian court. Ryomen, the fearsome king of curses, was utterly smitten by his wife, referring to her as his "sun" and his "queen" with a tenderness that belied his reputation.

And so, in the world of heian era, where curses and magic mingled with love and devotion, y/n and ryomen loved happily ever after, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. The queen and the king of curses, a match made in heaven, their love shining brighter than any star in the night sky, and as their child entered the world, welcomed with open arms and hearts full of love, y/n ryomen knew that they were truly blessed to have found each other in this lifetime abd the next.

[tojipie]

welcome home <3

he’s unboxed ! who cheered. by far one of my most requested fics of all time. started this series 6 months ago and it remains one of my favs :,) this is by no means the end though ! i haven’t been writing any of the additions to this series in “order” and i am still 100% open to writing about his life inside/after prison lol. thank u to all the lovely ppl that have been showing love to these since april mwah mwah mwah mwah

as always, prison bf toji series linked here <3

content: (incarceration, fem reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, p in v smut, pining, road head, swallowing, creampie, dirty talk, multiple rounds)

“just step through here and—yep,” the guard waves his security want across your outstretched arms, clearing you to take your belongings from the conveyor belt.

you’d done this dance a hundred times over the past seven years, driving up to the district penitentiary twice a week to see your boyfriend—now fiancé.

toji told you he didn’t have it in him to wait, popping the question during a conjugal visit a month ago. 

the man had known he’d wanted to marry you even before he got locked up. the feeling was mutual, but unspoken, always hanging in the air between the two of you.

you on the other hand had known you wanted to marry toji the moment he whispered his first “i love you,” said to you through the crackly speaker of a burner phone on a night when neither of you knew if he’d be coming home or not.

you make a beeline for the release wing, breaking into a subtle jog without drawing too much attention to yourself. the bouquet of green flowers you’d bought at the grocery store jostles in your purse, leaving a breadcrumb trail of stray petals.

there, around a bend and down the corridor stands the man of your dreams, flanked by officers and personnel at the front desk. 

metal cuffs clack together as the man reaches to accept a clipboard from the release agent, skillfully uncapping the pen with his teeth to fill out the means for his freedom.

he looks up a split second before you speak, dropping the clipboard with an audible clatter. toji tears down the corridor with a look that speaks of relief beyond words.

“toji!” you yell, sprinting to the inmate with outstretched arms. you nearly trip over your own feet with how quick you barrel towards him.

warm bodies clash together at last, squeezing, cradling, and caressing every inch of each other at last. his law enforcement entourage watches from afar, some smiling, others annoyed.

you’re lifted clean off the ground as strong, tattooed arms slip over your head and around your body. thick fingers work their way into your hair, cradling your head to his shoulder. 

actions speak louder than words, you know that much from how quickly he buckles, dropping to his knees with your body still wrapped around his. 

toji smells different every time you come to visit. there were days when the tang of blood stuck to his skin no matter how hard he scrubbed, a telling sign of his short temper. 

other days he’d smell like the earth, soil from the rec field permeating his already brown garments after his morning run.

once in a while, you’d catch hints of industrial paint and car exhaust, a smell built up from hours of making license plates for pocket change from the state. “pennies,” he’d tell you, “that’s all we fucking get in here.”

today, toji smells like himself. like the man you fell in love with 7 years ago in the passenger seat of a BMW, gazing into green eyes while gentle hands brushed the hair from your face. 

you almost think he’s laughing until warm tears trickle through the porous fabric of your shirt. 

strong shoulders quiver as quiet sobs rack his body, you rub his back in small circles, unable to pull away with how tight he’s holding you against his chest.

“i love you,” the inmate whimpers, wiping hot tears with his sleeve. he pulls back to press your lips together, mumbling nonsense in between kisses.

“pretty girl—m’ sorry— missed you,” his hands shake as they curl into the fabric at your waist.

you’d seen him cry exactly twice in his life. the first being the night he’d opened up to you in full for the first time, quietly relaying stories of neglect and abuse from his childhood while you kissed tears from his cheeks.

the second was well, the day he went away.

to see him break down like this so openly was devastating. he hated being emotional, told you it was humiliating. you’re sure he felt more than vulnerable, the leader of the city’s biggest drug ring, crumpled on the floor of a prison hallway 

“it’s okay baby,” you tell him, still rubbing circles into his skin.

to touch him like this, at last, was unlike anything the two of you had been allowed to experience for the past 7 years. this wasn’t your two legally allowed hugs at the beginning and end of your visits, or a quick fuck in a storage closet.

this was love. to hold and be held in front of law enforcement personnel without threat of being reprimanded. this was the first time you had been allowed to feel him under the tips of your fingers with an audience, publicly declaring your claim on each other without fear. 

you never blamed toji for what had happened, as angry as you were that first year. he blamed himself enough for the both of you really. 

you’d come to learn over the years that it had already been too late for him to get out of his line of work way before you’d found each other, a cycle he couldn’t break.

prison was always a possibility, inevitable even. that’s just how it was.

you slowly gather your purse off the ground, cellophane-wrapped flowers coming into view. 

“for me?” he laughs, slightly embarrassed. dark green carnations, just like his eyes. 

“who else?” you tease, watching the distress melt from his face.

you share a look briefly, yours saying you’re safe with me. his saying i know.

the soft clicks of black work boots pull you from your thoughts, a female officer in tow.

“you guys ready to get started?” she asks softly, shooting you a sympathetic look.

toji stands with a chuckle, not letting you respond. silver cuffs dig into the meat of your thighs as you’re carried back to the group.

 ˚ ✧ ───────────

half an hour of paperwork for his freedom. that’s what you give the prison in exchange for his belongings and dignity. 

the waiting room is quiet, sterile air filtering through dated vents. calloused fingers rub over your ankle, legs propped up in his lap.

“feels like a hospital in here,” he mumbles, trying to cut through the silence.

the cuffs are gone, thank god. though you’re more than unhappy with the marks they left on his wrists. toji doesn’t seem to mind, used to almost a decade of this treatment.

the release desk worker slides you two a yellow bag under the glass divider once you finish your task, pointing you in the direction of the bathrooms in case toji wanted to change. 

the inmate—no, ex-inmate you remind yourself— hands you the bag with a disinterested look. 

he doesn’t want to remember, you realize. too scared to wear the suit he had on the day the world took you from him. you quickly trash the old clothes and hold out your shoulder bag to him, fresh clothes neatly folded inside. 

“always prepared huh?” toji smiles, grateful at the gesture. “haven’t changed a bit.”

you wait a couple of minutes outside the single-stall bathroom, physically picking your jaw up off the floor when he emerges.

to say that his old shirt fit would be... egregiously wrong. blasphemous even.

toji’s shirt doesn’t just “not fit”, it’s bursting at the seams as it struggles to accommodate his hulking form, stretching over plains of corded muscle like a rubber band pulled too tight. 

seeing him so often had likely gotten your brain used to the change, preventing you from realizing how fucking big your fiancé had gotten. truly.

the black garment is so tight against his body that it’s practically a second skin. you make note of the way it molds into the dips and curves of his abs, mentally reminding yourself to get him to wear it for you later. 

you suppose the change makes sense. if toji wasn’t with you on a day visit he was always in his cell, sticking to a strict workout regimen to take his mind off things. still, you rack your brain trying to pinpoint how and when such a massive transformation slipped your mind.

a tattooed hand snaps you out of your trance, cradling your cheek.

“you focused?” your fiancé teases, rubbing circles into your jaw with his thumb.

“i think that thing’s gonna explode if you move,” you swat his hand away. 

“would you rather i take it off to be safe?” he asks, jutting a thumb behind him at the waiting room desk.

the workers make no attempt to hide their oggling, faces pressed against the glass barrier separating your party from theirs.

“no— god keep it on,” you mutter, shooting them a nasty look.

“you and your girlfriend ready to go fushiguro?” an officer says, holding the door open for the both of you. toji squats down momentarily to get a grip on your thighs, folding you over his shoulder to carry you fireman style.

“wife,” he corrects, shouldering past the guard and trudging down the corridor with calculated steps.

the coos that ring out from the help desk are humiliating.

waxed tile fades into worn concrete as the two of you pass the threshold into the prison parking lot, your soon-to-be-husband muttering a curt “go fuck yourselves” to the officers who’d wished him good luck on his way out the door.

you’re proud of him for holding his tongue, in a way. knowing toji and his temper there were a hundred more creative and undoubtedly gruesome things he could have said to the personnel who’d kept him locked up for the better half of a decade. 

the world flips right side up again as you’re gently placed on your feet in front of the car. 

toji raises his head to the sky, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

“s’ nice,” he mumbles, reaching to intertwine your hands. “felt the sun during rev time but.. not like this.”

you hum, rubbing your thumb over tattooed knuckles. 

“get ready to experience a lot more sun then,” you giggle. “wanna have a look at the car?” the question is more of a rhetorical one at this point considering he’s already running his hand over the hood with a whistle.

“haven’t seen this baby in a while,” he smiles, internally gushing at your choice to welcome him to the world in the car he used to drive you home the night you met. your fiancé doesn’t have to say thank you, you know how grateful he is from his smile alone.

he falters for a bit, looking like a newborn fawn with how careful his steps are as he circles the vehicle. you figure wearing proper shoes instead of rubber slides must feel at least a little abnormal after 7 long years. 

“alright,” toji states, rolling his shoulders in his too-tight top. “fuck are we waiting for, i wanna go home.”

 ˚ ✧ ───────────

you pay no mind to toji the first time he turns to look at you, opening his mouth to say something before slumping back into his seat with a frustrated sigh.

the fourth time it happens, you speak up.

“what are you doing?” you laugh, eyeing him from the driver's seat

“getting rubbed to death by my fucking zipper,” he mutters, repositioning his lower half to take the pressure off his cock. his frustration isn’t aimed at you in the slightest, all blame placed on his bottoms.

oh.. oh.

the whirlwind of emotions toji had gone through in the past 3 hours alone had taken a toll on his mind and body. but tasting the first morsels of freedom with you, alone in a car that smelled like you? you’d be worried if he wasn’t hard.

you had no problem helping his little problem go away, the question was how soon.

the idea that piques on you is absolutely shameful, you’re not even sure where it came from but you don’t have it in you to care. 

you know this road, you’ve used it a thousand times to make the trip up to the penitentiary. judging by how long you’d been driving you’d say there was about 10 minutes left before ruler-straight tar merged into the twists and turns of the suburbs.

“when did your license expire?” you ask, cautiously peering in the rearview mirror. good, no cars.

“3 years ago,” he laughs, “why?”

fuck it, you think.

“you still remember how to steer?” 

“course i d— oh.”

it finally dawns on him. you smile, shooting him a look that says “want to?”

you’re sure you have your answer judging by how quick he shucks his jeans and boxers down, freeing his cock from its confines.

“oh fuck,” he groans, struggling to keep his eyes open as your mouth presses against his base. 

your fiancé steers while your head bobs just beneath the dash, one hand on the wheel and the other placed firmly at the crown of your head, guiding you up and down the shaft.

your throat flexes around the intrusion, fighting the hulking feeling of his length mercilessly fucking into your mouth.

“fuck, perfect girl— my girl,” he shudders, hips moving to buck into your slick throat.

“gonna cum, gonna— shit,”

fingers kissed in dark ink massage your throat softly, urging you to swallow the hot load coating every inch of your mouth. you flutter around his length, pulling back to clean him off with your tongue.

“fucks gotten into you, pretty girl?” he whispers, so out of breath you barely hear him. 

 ˚ ✧ ───────────

you barely make it up the steps of the house before you’re shoved against the door, tattooed hands groping up and down your body with fervor.

“keys,” he says against your lips, “keys—fuck, now,” his voice is hoarser this time, desperation clear.

you whip around to jam the item into the lock, not unaware of the rock-hard dick grinding into your jean-clad ass from behind.

you’re being carried to the couch before you even step off the doormat, a stray throw blanket cushioning your fall as you’re pressed into squeaky leather. 

“won’t be gentle,” toji groans, ripping your jeans and panties down in one fluid motion.” can’t right now.”

“don’t be.” you say, rucking his shirt off his body surprisingly quick. “wouldn’t want you to.”

you needed him, needed toji to have his way with you. to christen your home round after round until you couldn’t feel where his body and yours ended.

when it came down to it, you suppose 

he smiles at the crude admission, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your drenched folds.

“filthy,” he mutters, said almost lovingly. toji grips his base and sinks to the hilt with a sharp groan, shuddering at the heat of your walls.

the stretch is delicious, filling you from every angle and pressing right against that special spot. you’re surprised at how easily he slams in, though you’re embarrassed to admit it was entirely because of how soaked you were. 

toji immediately pulls back with a flick of his hips, pistoning into you like his life depends on it. 

he hasn’t changed, you think. still so incredibly in tune with your body, skills that would put a pornstar to shame.

this was better than some quick closeted fuck under the cover of night after slipping a guard a rubber band of cash. this was primal, filthy. two bodies writhing against each other, the only goal being complete and utter pleasure. 

toji makes no effort to shush you like he would if you were sneaking around, basking in your sighs and whines like water from a stream.

“missed this,” he says, licking a long, wet stripe from your sternum to your pulse. “missed you, missed having you every day.”

“you’ll have me forever,” you moan, sucking a purple bruise into the tattooed skin of his throat.

thick fingers thread into your hair to hold you to his neck, silently commanding you to bite down.

and so you do. you bite down hard on the junction of his neck and shoulder, licking over pink teeth marks as his thrusts reach their maximum speed.

the pleasure you feel is blinding. stars explode behind your vision while the curve of his cock hits that heavenly spot in you just right. over, and over, and over.

your climax sneaks up on you before you can think, ripping a wail from the depths of your chest. toji’s thrusts falter to a halt as you lock down on him, pleasantly caught off guard by the vice grip you have around him.

“oh my g— holy shit,” he groans, mouth hanging open. dark brows furrow it to a look of pure pleasure, emerald eyes squeezing tight.

“keep going,” you mumble, scratching rivets down the skin of his back. “just keep fucking me please don’t stop please pl—”

“yeah? keep going?” he teases, groping at the swell of your breast. “greedy huh?”

you did want more, that was the thing. you just came the hardest you ever had in years but you’d be damned if he didn’t keep giving it to you.

brutal thrusts shake the frame of the couch. your bodies meld like they were made for each other, sharing pleasure in the comfort that came with the knowledge that the both of you intended to fuck until you physically couldn’t anymore.

“gonna come,” your fiancé pants, mouthing at the curve of one of your breasts. blunt teeth brush over the bud of your nipple, sending shockwaves down your spine

“inside, fuck—please,” you’re practically shaking.

“inside?” he repeats, the word rolling off his tongue like gold. “you want my seed? huh?” 

you nod, clutching to his naked back as he ruts into you, deeper than ever. strong hands grip the back of your thighs practically folding you in half, opening you up in ways you thought to be impossible.

hot release fills you up for the second time that day, shrouding your lower half in a blanket of warmth.

you sigh, low and satiated at the feeling inside of you, pulling toji to your chest when he collapses on top of you.

“we should probably..” toji trails off, completely out of breath. “should probably head upstairs.” he heaves, chest swelling with deep gulps of air.

“or we could go another round?” you mumble, throwing the question out there. 

“shit, yeah.. probably should right?” he chuckles

taglist ! 🏷️

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[moondirti]

ghoap x nanny! reader / 18+ / previous ft. surveillance. handjobs. voyeurism. mild s/m. dirty talk.

They check up on you when they can.

Price wasn't exaggerating when he doled out the mission details. It's a tough one. Grueling. The type that necessitates four flights a week and days of little to no sleep, the men fuelled on nothing but a snow-balling urgency to get it done. The target is a slippery fuck, with connections that transport him across the globe at the first sign of conflict. They come close to apprehending him only once, and nothing comes of it but the exacerbated threat of nuclear war as the bastard starts to squeak like a cornered mouse. Gaz has a near constant migraine. Soap stops being fun around the two week mark, exhaustion slowing his tongue. Ghost grows more unhinged with his kills, punching blades through the throats of anyone who dares get in their way.

But still, they check on you.

Isla occupies a quarter of their headspace at all times; half when they don't have to dedicate their focus to the operation. It's the longest they've ever spent away from their girl, the withdrawals hitting them like a bag of bricks. They do whatever's necessary, then, to tune into the nanny cams they have set up around the house, lest Johnny cries about the way her hands dimple when she uncurls a fist again. Or worse – before Simon forgets what tethers him to humanity.

They find the two of you are always doing something.

Which isn't a surprise. You had mentioned your background in early childhood education; they just thought that it'd been a device to impress them. But it's clear that you're eager to put your degree to use when they see you setting up yet another enrichment activity for their daughter and encouraging her to engage.

The first time, they had just arrived on base. It'd been five hours since they've seen you last and already, Johnny had pulled his phone to log onto the monitoring app he had installed.

Sure enough, you were in the same overalls they saw you in last, Isla changed into a fresh pair of pyjamas after her bath. You had her set on her play mat, but replaced the dangling toys for newer, more colourful ones. As she reached for them, you would sound out the shade in a high-pitched voice and grin excitedly when she'd babble back, as if aaaah! meant green.

He felt his heart tug something fierce, caught between endearment and unease at missing out, before getting dressed for debrief.

The third time, you let them know you could tell when the nanny cam is in active use. Not accusatorially, of course – it unfolded in a way too innocent to be anything but a whammy on their part.

They were in a humvee on exfil after being ambushed by the local army – soldiers with blood money lining their pockets, tasked with dispatching the bloodhounds that keep sniffing their patron's trail. Simon had watched a little boy get caught in the crossfire and decided it was imperative to check if Isla was okay, despite her being hundreds of miles away and off anyone's radar.

You're the first thing he saw, carrying the weight of a huge plastic storage container filled with water. In it, there were several rubber animals that inspired a fit of squeals somewhere off screen. You had laughed, a little out of breath, and he remembers the relief that flooded his chest at the dual sounds. Like the cold lick of waves across scorching sand.

As you'd passed by the camera, you stopped and crouched so your face would be in view.

"Isla likes splashing around in the water. I'm thinking of getting her a paddling pool." And you lifted the container as if you would ever need to justify the way you take of their daughter. "Hope you guys are well."

Johnny murmured from beside him. "Forgot aboot th' status light."

The seventh– ninth– maybe twelfth time (having lost count), it was just in time to catch you on your way out with Isla in tow.

They'd tuckered down in a shitty motel, awaiting the next word from Laswell, all four of them in one room. Gaz had been given the bed as consolation for the torn tendon in his knee, and Price had claimed the couch with nothing more than a growl about his back needing it. Thus, Ghost and Soap found themselves on the floor, the latter man tucked under his partner's arm, the other occupied with checking in on the porch feed. The time difference made it so that it was midday where you were.

You were dressed – and Simon recalls it as clearly as the day you met – in a green wrap skirt and tulip hat, their darling girl in a shade of pink that complimented its petals, sat on your hip as you struggled with her buggy. They forgot to give you the run down on unfolding it before they left, too overwhelmed with everything else to pay mind to the little things.

Johnny had jumped for the two-way talk function immediately, tapping on the little mic before clearing his throat.

"There's a latch under th' left arm. Flip it 'n' it shuid unfold automatically."

You jumped, pausing to face the porch cam with wide eyes. "Oh– Oh my god. Haha," Following his directions, you were able to get it open with little fuss. "that is so embarrassing. Pretend you never saw that."

Simon had his balaclava on, uncomfortable with going bare-faced in an unfamiliar room, but Johnny still felt the soft smile splitting his cheeks. Its warmth was unmistakable.

"Nonsense, lass. 'twas cute."

You bloomed at that, wiggling a little in place. Though the flustered moment hadn't lasted long, for Isla's mouth fell open at the recognition of her father's voice, chubby hand reaching out in its direction.

"Bldha! Pffffpp."

"That's right, baby! That's Da." You waddled closer to have her inspect the strange contraption hooked above their mailbox, turning your attention back to them. "We're going on a narration walk! Isla's gotten so good at recognising animals because of them. But it was so nice to hear from you. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

"Gah!"

Simon locked the phone when neither of them could muster a response, emotion rushing their throats like white-river rapids. Hot tears seep into his side, a pair of misty eyes buried in his ribs.

"I know. I know, Johnny. S'alright. We'll see 'er again soon."

Now, he's made good on his promise.

All three rogue missiles located and dismantled in record time, meaning their slimy target could no longer use them as a shield. He'd been in shackles within the next day, wrangled somewhere in Istanbul and shipped off to a maximum security prison in The Hague. The task force left no loose thread untugged, which took an extra day but will be worth it in the long run. Price promises to reward them with a round, on him.

They're on their way back to base when Johnny tunes in a final time.

He's sure that Isla is asleep by now, confirmed by the baby monitor that focuses on the sprawled form in her cot. It would be best to exit the app and doze off like the other men – lord knows he needs it – but he can't help the itch to look for you too. To click through every channel, his curiosity unquenched, until–

Ah. There.

On the couch, bare legs stretched out along its length. A throw blanket tangled between them, one bent at the knee to support the book you're currently fingering through. The sight alone is enough to make him salivate.

But then he notices the thin material of your top.

Practically translucent. No doubt made for bed. You aren't wearing a bra, either, and the darker shade of your nipples practically flaunts itself through the fabric. They're too soft to protrude and cast a shadow on your breasts, but he's still able to get a good impression of what you would look like nude. Some part of him wilts with guilt at the shameless voyeurism he's subjecting you to.

Another part sends blood to the weight between his legs.

"Bleedin' Christ."

"Hm?" Simon grunts, disturbed by the restless pace of Johnny's heart. His head lifts off his shoulder, blinking warily to clear the silky gossamer of sleep threading his eyelids, before focusing on the grainy footage on his partner's screen.

"Ghost." He whines, hips bucking in desperation when the larger man does nothing. They haven't had the chance to relieve themselves since that night at the motel, and even then it had been a messy frotting as they tried not to disturb their sleeping comrades.

"A'right. Off to the bathroom with you, then."

He doesn't turn off of the live feed even as they cram into the compact space. Though he should. He needs to. Not because you're aware of their surveillance – you're far too engrossed in your book to pay mind to the blinking red light on the nanny cam. But because only depraved men gets off to unsuspecting hens, especially the ones they hired in good faith to take care of their child while they're away.

It's a dirty, dirty thrill that roars through him as Simon wraps an arm around his waist, palming his hard-on through his trousers. And it's a dirty thrill he wants no part of.

"Practically leakin' in your pants, boy. First time you see a pair of tits?" In the small mirror before him, he watches his pants get pulled down past his ass, underwear stained a deeper swatch of blue where his tip spits prespend.

It might as well be the first time, way he's humping Simon's hand like an over-eager mutt. Though he can't manage to choke it out through the rough groans pressing his vocal chords. Instead, what escapes him is a pathetic mess of trembling letters. "S'not... fookin, not– not–"

"Shhh, it's okay. She's jus' so pretty, yeah? Can't help but chub up and beg me to rub your aching cock, wishing it was her darlin' hand wrapped 'round you instead. I know."

"Nn, nae, Sim- Si– I wouid never... Ah!"

It's dry. A little raw. He makes no effort to lube his calloused palm to help it glide easier along Johnny's length, but he knows his boy better than he knows himself sometimes. That he needs pain when he's doing something bad like this, or else he'll lose himself to the guilt. A little bit of penance for the Catholic.

"Don' lie to me. Y'can't. But tha's alright," He pulls the foreskin off the head of his uncut mass, kneading a bit into his frenulum to watch the way white oozes against red. "I think about it too."

"A-Aye?"

"Hm. Think 'bout ya swallowing my cock while I sit 'er on my face. Bet she tastes sweet, like nectar. Jus' look at the thing." Which he does. You're seated a bit differently than you had been before. Less liberal. Wound up tight, with your nose buried in your book and your toes curled beneath your feet. Surely captured by some tense plot line or the other. "Would make you clean her cunt after I pump 'er full. Or vice versa, if she's into tha'."

"Yer a-aff yer heid... Fuck, I cannae–"

"That's it, Johnny. Let go, boy." Simon's strokes keep at the top, tugging in short, rough movements over the phone. The blanket now covers you fully, but it's no matter. The image of your breasts are now seared into both their minds, an array of fantasies unfurling before them, each nastier than the last. "Jus' like that."

Thick ropes of cum streak over the screen and sink countertop. It's weeks worth of pent up frustration, a culmination of despair and desire as a stuttered moan claws up Johnny's throat. The hand leaves his cock only when he starts shooting blanks, clenching tight at the overstimulation.

Simon makes him lick the mess off his palm.

(And unbeknownst to them, they'd hit the mic on their way to the bathroom.

You'd heard the whole thing.)

[ellecdc]

the poly!marauders and lily x shy!reader!!!!! I genuinely cannot handle how much I love it omg🫠🫠 would u be willing to make it a series??

maybe remus being overprotective/possessive of her before the full moon and she’s just like ???? bc she doesn’t know about his furry problem🫣 but the rest of the group are just really casual about the way he’s acting like “oh yeah he does this sometimes, just ignore it” and r is just like 🤔?? bc he literally won’t let her go and wants her by his side and lap all day!!

aaaaaah my mind got carried away after reading ur amazing fic🩷🩷

so. stinkin. cute (thoughts and prayers for our shy!reader fr)

poly!marauders + lily x shy!reader close to Remus' time of the month

CW: love bite/hickies, man-handling Remus [ik, ik]

You had been…seeing the boys and Lily for long enough now to have noticed a few peculiarities. 

Black envelopes with green wax melts on the front that were delivered to Sirius were always confiscated immediately by Lily. Following the envelope's arrival, the rest of the group tended to fawn over Sirius for the rest of the day.

James was incredibly bright as a student in all subjects except Ancient Runes; prior to any quizzes or assignments, the group would play a game of “question pong” which was a twist on the muggle game ‘beer pong’ where cups were lined up and James would aim a ping pong ball and have to answer a question that was placed inside the cup that he had scored in. This amount of effort wasn’t placed into any of the others’ studies.

And what was obviously something the boys were ultimately accustomed to doing for Lily now extended to you when you couldn’t help but notice that at least one of them always escorted you to any of your classes in the dungeons. 

Another peculiarity, however, seemed to centre around Remus. 

Once a month, the group got a bit…sketchy before the three boys would disappear for about a day and then return basically back to normal. 

Lily seemed to be accepting of these occurrences, so you opted not to concern yourself with it either; if it was something you needed to know, they’d tell you.

Right?

Because, you see, the sketchiness wasn’t just limited to their comings and goings; but rather Remus himself.

He was a tactile person, that much you knew to be true. He almost always had a hand on one of his partners, a boyfriend or a girlfriend in his lap, or an arm around someone’s shoulders.

And yes, you’d been growing increasingly accustomed to the affection.

But it seemed to you that around these bouts of…sketchiness, the affection seemed to grow into something rather possessive. 

For example; it became clear to you that out of the three boys, James and Sirius were the ones who had a particular problem with Severus Snape, but during said period of said sketchiness, Remus nearly growled when he saw Lily and Snape discussing the upcoming Potions exam before he latched himself onto Lily’s side until Severus finally left. 

And then at the quidditch game against Ravenclaw, a group of girls behind you, Lily, and Remus were giggling over how ‘fit the Gryffindor captain was’ which led to Remus standing abruptly, moving to lean against the railing of the Gryffindor stands to wave James over before he pressed a searing kiss to the chasers lips leaving them both rather breathless. 

And then there was the party in the Ravenclaw common room for Benjy Fenwicks birthday where you, Lily, and Remus had been sitting watching James and Sirius dance with Marlene and Mary before Gilderoy Lockhart slid up behind Sirius in an attempt to dance with him. Sirius hardly had a chance to react before Remus was on the dancefloor and pulling his boyfriend into him, slotting their hips together and swaying sinfully to the beat all while maintaining eye contact with Gilderoy.

It seems important to note that Remus doesn’t dance.

All this to say, Remus got…sketchy.

But all of this had nothing on how he seemed to become around you.

You weren’t sure what caused the difference; perhaps it was because you were new to the group, perhaps it was because you were shy, or perhaps it was because he was more confident in his and the others’ roles within the dynamic. Either way, you were certain you were simply going to combust from the sheer amount of attention being devoted to you by your quietest boy.

You could hardly breathe or blink without him noticing, it seemed. And if you were within his vicinity, you were in his arms or on his lap.

Like right now…

You’d no sooner entered the Great Hall when you spotted Lily’s fiery red hair and made for the group before you were being man-handled to sit on the bench between his thighs.

“You almost missed breakfast, dove.” He offered quietly as he started preparing a plate for you right in front of your eyes. 

“Jeez Moony, whatever happened to good morning.” Sirius teased as he shot you a wink.

“Morning angel.” James offered quickly as Lily smiled softly at you.

“Oh, hi! I..uhm, I’m not that hungry, Rem.” You tried, but it was apparently the wrong thing to say.

Remus’ movements hardly faltered as he continued buttering an english muffin for you, but everyone else seemed to freeze in their movements as they watched the two of you with bated breaths. 

“Breakfast is important.” He said simply.

And believing he was quite close to actually hand feeding you the english muffin, you simply took it from his hands and shrunk into his chest at the attention. 

You felt your heart leap both in affection and embarrassment as you felt him press his lips to your neck as you ate, looking to the other three in hopes of help or explanation, of which you received neither.

“I was wondering if you wanted to have a sleepover with me tonight?” Lily asked you as she sipped from her tea.

“Oh, I uhm…sure, that’d be nice. Is everyone going to be there?”

Remus kept his face pressed to your neck but the others shared a glance. 

“No, we have a Marauders thing to attend to tonight, sweetness. Can we call dibs for the weekend?” Sirius offered, but his attempt was quickly shot down by Remus.

“Tomorrow.” He muttered from your neck as you fought the urge to shiver at the tickle of his breath. 

“What about the night after that?” Lily tried again.

You let out a surprised (and perhaps nervous) squeak when Remus’ embrace tightened around your middle.

“Tomorrow.” 

“Moons…” James tried, which finally got Remus’ face out from your neck in order to glare at his boyfriend.

“Tomorrow will be fine.” He proclaimed with an air of finality before he shoved his face unceremoniously back into your neck and latched his mouth to your jugular, eliciting another surprised yelp from your lips. 

“How’s that for a good morning, Y/N?” Sirius asked with a wink. 

You spent the rest of your breakfast wondering if this was your own personal heaven or your own personal hell.

Jury was still out by the time you left the Great Hall with a love bite displayed above the collar of your uniform.

[monster-disaster]

[tentacle] The monster under the bed

tentacle!monster x human!Reader Good to know: somnophilia, a bit of dub-con

Summary: Your aunt's house is not as empty as you thought.

A/N: For kinktober 2023, I have a new town full of monsters. Here is the masterlist.

The change in the air is thick and heavy after you leave the Welcome to Grimbrook sign behind you. You feel it in your core. It's cold and silent. For a second, everything goes quiet, and the time seems to stop. The rumbling of your car gets muffled, and the colors of the lush, green forest at your sides fade into a milky fog flowing above the ground. You can't see the tall mountains and their sharp edges in the distance anymore. The clear blue sky turns gray, and you can't find the sun anymore, either. Just a few dim rays shine down on the road in front of you, showing your way to the village next to the sea.

As you get closer, you can smell the salty scent of the water even through the closed windows of your car. It's heavy in your nostrils. The sound of the waves gets louder too. From the top of the uphill, you can see the village with its old stone buildings and the sea behind everything. It seems colorless, merging into the dark sky at the horizon. It is beautiful and terrifying at the same time. There is something in Grimbrook that you can't pinpoint but freezes your insides. The only light you can see comes from a lighthouse at the edge of a cliff. It emits a soft, rhythmic beam of yellow light that cuts through the heavy fog, casting eerie shadows over the still village. Seagulls glide through the mist above the white seafoam, waving across the dark surface.

"Okay," you hum, forcing your eyes to go back to the GPS on your phone. The blue line clearly shows your way to the house you have to reach before night falls. It leads you out of the center of the villages until you reach a small suburb with Victorian houses standing in a long row with grand iron gates and gardens.

The monotone voice of the GPS informs you when you reach the right house, and after sitting in your car for a few more minutes, you have no other option but to get out and make your way up to the porch. The wooden planks creak under your steps as you look around a bit better. The house is old, with tall walls, characterful windows, and a dark green door with a golden knocker in the middle. It's cold in your hold as you knock it against the door.

You don't get an answer, though.

The door opens, and you find yourself facing a narrow foyer with stairs on the right side. Pictures and paintings hang on the walls in dark wood and golden frames. You can see the entrance of the kitchen at the end. And on your left side, there is an arch that leads you to the living room.

"Hello?" You break the silence. Your voice is hoarse and quiet. You have to force your legs to move and not turn back to your car and leave this place immediately. "Somebody?" Your gaze lands on a small table in the corner next to the entrance door. There is a letter with your name on it.

Dear Cat, I'm sorry I can't be here when you arrive. Make yourself at home, and we will talk tomorrow. Delilah

"Great," you sigh, letting the paper fall back onto the surface of the small table.

For a second, you think about searching for a hotel or something similar to spend the night, but to be honest, it doesn't sound much better either. You know you should leave the town to feel better, but it's not an option. So you close the door behind you and wander further into the house.

You got a call a few weeks ago about your aunt you met long years ago. She died, and now you have a house. You can keep it. You can sell it. Whatever you want.

The house is old, with a lot of wood, dark colors, and golden details. There are still newspapers from months ago on the coffee table in the living room. The rug under you is faded and thin. The floor creaks every now and again. There are two rooms and a bathroom upstairs. The bigger room is still occupied with your aunt's belongings. The scent of her perfume still lingers in the air. You remember her when you were a kid. She came to your grandmother's funeral, and you never saw her again. Nobody really talked about her in the family. The only things you know are that she was kind but preferred her own company above everything else. She lost her husband in her late twenties but stayed in Grimbrook, barely leaving the town.

The guestroom is much more bare than the other parts of the house. A bed in the middle with two nightstands and a lamp. There is a drawer in front of it and a mirror on the wall. The window is slightly open, letting in the cold autumn breeze. You have a view of the street from here. It's calm and empty. The only reasons you know you are not the only person in the town are because you can see a few cars here and there and a dog barking in the distance. The fog is thick and heavy. You can't see the end of the street through it.

After wandering around the house some more, you decide to call your friend until you have no other option but to change and try to get some sleep.

Climbing up on the bed in the guest room, you settle under the thick covers. The scent of the linen is faded and mixed with dust and the night air coming through the window. It's dark outside, not counting a few lamps on the street. Their orange lights filter into the room. And everything is quiet. So quiet that your ears almost start to ring. You are not used to it. You live in the city with constant noises.

When sleep takes you, it's restless and everything but relaxing. You fidget and turn, trying to find a comfortable position as you balance between the darkness and the real world. Your head feels just as foggy as Grimbrook, and at some point, you can't decide if you are dreaming or not.

You are on your back, one arm on your stomach, and the other is next to your body. The autumn breeze caresses your skin, moving up from your feet to your ankles and calves. Shiver runs through your spine at the feeling. You want to reach out for the blanket, but even though your arms move, they do not obey your command. Something pets the thin skin of your wrist. It's soft and barely noticeable. You feel your muscles stretch as you reach up to the headrest of the bed, but you don't even know why. The cold moves up further on your legs. It curls around your flesh, spreading you in the middle of the bed. Your heels dig into the mattress. Your body tenses when your limbs don't do as you want. A frown deepens between your brows.

"What?" A hoarse grunt leaves your lips. When you open your eyes, you meet darkness, and you are not sure if you are really awake or not. Your eyelids are heavy, and not even a second later, you fall back asleep again.

The bottom of your pajama slips down on your legs. The waist stretches around your parted legs. Something slides up on your stomach under your t-shirt. It is slick and soft. A gasp echoes in your room when it flicks your nipple. The thing curls around the flesh of your tits, groping and caressing. Your nipples harden under the strange touch. Saliva? A tongue?

Where are you?

And there is something else between your legs. The muscles of your thighs tense, and the hold around you tightens.

"What?" You groan again into the silence. As you look down on your body, you see your t-shirt around your neck. Your breasts are bare. Something dark and purple curls around them, squeezing and licking. The teasing on your nipples is almost painful. At the back of your mind, you want more. Your head falls back onto the pillows, and you are asleep again.

The tentacles between your legs move up and down on your pussy. Your panties are ruined between your wet center and the slick touch of theirs. One of them flicks your clit. Your back arches at the feeling. The cold night air hits your aching pussy when the thin fabric is pulled aside. One of them stays around your clit, flicking and rubbing the hard bud. The other one goes straight to your hole.

You want to move. To get closer or farther away, you can't decide. The tendrils don't let you go anyway.

You break the silence with a sudden moan. The limb enters you slowly. It slips into you easily, stretching your walls until you can't take another inch. It fills you up.

"Fuck," you groan.

Your breasts are soaked. The slickness on your skin shines under the dim streetlights. The tentacles play with your flesh, rubbing and pinching your nipples. The pain takes your breath away every now and again until you feel dizzy.

The others between your legs move without pausing even for a second. Your clit throbs, and your walls flutter. Pleasure flares inside your veins, rushing through your body with such force you never felt before. Your lungs burn for air, and your muscles ache as you lay taut, panting.

When you open your eyes, you see the ceiling and the old lamp hanging above you. You want to force your mind to think, to panic, to do something, but your senses are full of pleasure. The only thing you can do is moan and grind against the tentacle inside your pussy. It pounds into you, reaching every spongy spot inside that makes you see stars and beg for more. The sheet under you is soaked with your mixed juices. You can feel it dripping out of your hole.

Fuck, you want to shout, but you can't find your voice. You just shake and tremble in the hold of the limbs keeping you in place on the bed. Every nerve in your body is on edge, and when it snaps in your lower stomach, you can't remember how to breathe. Your climax forces you down and stops you from moving. A thin layer of sweat shines on your bare skin. Heat burns you from the inside, and your pussy flutters and sucks on the tendril inside you. It still moves in and out. It twitches and rubs against your walls. And doesn't stop even when the darkness envelopes you again.

When you wake up the next morning, you need a few minutes to remember where you are. The sun shines through the window, casting an orange hue over the old rug in the middle of the room. As you sit up, your t-shirt falls back over your torso, but your pants are still around your knees.

"What?" You grunt out. The question is barely louder than a whisper. Your hand shakes as you reach down between your legs. Your pussy is wet, sensitive, and swollen. A moan escapes you when your fingertip slides over your slit.

Your dream is still vivid in your mind. You can feel the tentacle in your pussy, using your hole and rubbing your clit. Your center starts to throb with need at the memory. And your breasts. Your other hand grabs one of your tits. Your nipples are still hard peaks through the thin fabric of your shirt.

"Hello? Cat?" The sudden noise snaps your head up to the door of your room. The voice comes from the entrance of the house. "It's Delilah." "Hey!" You croak out. You are not even sure if she can hear you. "I will be down in a minute." "Great!" She shouts back. "I will make some coffee, and we can talk about your plans with the house." Your fingers sink into your hole. You are still stretched out. You move in and out of your pussy easily.

Yeah, you think, you need a few nights if you want to decide about your plans.

- Masterlist Grimbrook Masterlist Patreon

[saddayfordemocracy]

How the Watermelon Became a Symbol of Palestinian Solidarity

The use of the watermelon as a Palestinian symbol is not new. It first emerged after the Six-day War in 1967, when Israel seized control of the West Bank and Gaza, and annexed East Jerusalem. At the time, the Israeli government made public displays of the Palestinian flag a criminal offense in Gaza and the West Bank. 

To circumvent the ban, Palestinians began using the watermelon because, when cut open, the fruit bears the national colors of the Palestinian flag—red, black, white, and green.  

The Israeli government didn't just crack down on the flag. Artist Sliman Mansour told The National in 2021 that Israeli officials in 1980 shut down an exhibition at 79 Gallery in Ramallah featuring his work and others, including Nabil Anani and Issam Badrl. “They told us that painting the Palestinian flag was forbidden, but also the colors were forbidden. So Issam said, ‘What if I were to make a flower of red, green, black and white?’, to which the officer replied angrily, ‘It will be confiscated. Even if you paint a watermelon, it will be confiscated,’” Mansour told the outlet.

Israel lifted the ban on the Palestinian flag in 1993, as part of the Oslo Accords, which entailed mutual recognition by Israel and the Palestinian Liberation Organization and were the first formal agreements to try to resolve the decades-long Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The flag was accepted as representing the Palestinian Authority, which would administer Gaza and the West Bank.

In the wake of the accords, the New York Times nodded to the role of watermelon as a stand-in symbol during the flag ban. “In the Gaza Strip, where young men were once arrested for carrying sliced watermelons—thus displaying the red, black and green Palestinian colors—soldiers stand by, blasé, as processions march by waving the once-banned flag,” wrote Times journalist John Kifner.

In 2007, just after the Second Intifada, artist Khaled Hourani created The Story of the Watermelon for a book entitled Subjective Atlas of Palestine. In 2013, he isolated one print and named it The Colours of the Palestinian Flag, which has since been seen by people across the globe.

The use of the watermelon as a symbol resurged in 2021, following an Israeli court ruling that Palestinian families based in the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood in East Jerusalem would be evicted from their homes to make way for settlers.

The watermelon symbol today:

In January, Israel’s National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir gave police the power to confiscate Palestinian flags. This was later followed by a June vote on a bill to ban people from displaying the flag at state-funded institutions, including universities. (The bill passed preliminary approval but the government later collapsed.)

In June, Zazim, an Arab-Israeli community organization, launched a campaign to protest against the ensuing arrests and confiscation of flags. Images of watermelons were plastered on to 16 taxis operating in Tel Aviv, with the accompanying text reading, “This is not a Palestinian flag.”

“Our message to the government is clear: we will always find a way to circumvent any absurd ban and we will not stop fighting for freedom of expression and democracy,” said Zazim director Raluca Ganea. 

Amal Saad, a Palestinian from Haifa who worked on the Zazim campaign, told Al-Jazeera they had a clear message: “If you want to stop us, we’ll find another way to express ourselves.”

Words courtesy of BY ARMANI SYED / TIME

[peachesofteal]

Light on - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: You ask Simon to babysit for you last minute. For @that-fangirl-1106 and three anons

“Thank you so, so much. I owe you.” 

Simon stops short at your door, brows raising in surprise. He expected to see you in your ‘house clothes’ as you call them, leggings, or an old pair of jeans with a t shirt. Instead, you’re wearing a skirt, a short skirt, swell of your breasts just visible inside the V of your shirt, and his stomach twists, confusion thrumming in his veins. What is this? Where are you going? When you called and asked him to help you watch Emma for a bit, he just assumed it was so you could run some errands or something, take some time for yourself. Not for… whatever this is. 

You’ve got Emmaline on your hip, waist curved to accommodate her, and she’s babbling at you with a happy smile.  

“Are you sure it’s not an inconvenience? My sitter bailed last minute.” The door lock clicks into place behind him, and he holds his tongue, stopping the flow of one hundred questions, biting down on the urge to pull you into his chest and tell you- you’re not actually going anywhere. 

Would you agree? Would you look up at him with that sweet, beautiful face, and tell him that you won’t? That you’ll stay here, with him, instead. Where you belong.

“Simon?” Shit.

“It’s fine. I’m happy to help.” Emma coos, looking up at him, little legs wriggling in her onesie and his heart thumps a little harder, the green poison of jealously cooling just slightly when he realizes it doesn’t matter where you’re going. You’ll be coming home to him, and Emmaline, at the end of your night. 

Still. He has to ask. He has to know. 

“Where are you going?” You hand the baby to him, clucking softly, rubbing your fingers through her wispy crop of curls. 

“Out with this guy I met!” You’re excited, practically beaming, and your fingers find the hem of your shirt, anxiously plucking at it. “It’s been a while since like-“ you stop yourself, embarrassment heating your face, and you clear your throat. “No one’s asked me on a date in a while. Single moms aren’t really… a hot commodity.” His stomach clenches at the idea of another man thinking you’re a hot anything, let alone even looking in your direction. 

“Where are you going? Who is he?” 

“To the little Thai spot on seventh.” You give him an odd look. “And he’s a guy I met at the library.” 

“The library?” 

“Yeah, during story time.” You’re pulling a jacket on, and he clenches his jaw so tight he could chew through concrete. “Alright, baby, love you.” You step into his orbit, dab of perfume still wet on your neck, heat pressing into his side when you bend to kiss Emma on her forehead. Your hand brushes his against her back, something clouding your gaze when you look up into his face, something hopeful and honeyed sweet, with just a glimpse of longing, enough that blood roars in his ears. 

He should ask you to stay, tell you he’ll take you instead. Or take you somewhere better, take you anywhere you want to go. 

But he doesn’t. Instead, he watches you slip out the front door, blowing the baby in his arms one last kiss goodnight with a wave of your palm.

An hour later, a key scrapes against the metal of the lock. He’s got Emmaline and her favorite stuffed giraffe in his arms, walking circles in the kitchen, bouncing her lightly to try to soothe her pre bedtime tears, a normal routine he’s seen you do more than once. 

You slip through the door with a whispered apology, tired eyes rimmed in red. 

“Hey.” You reach for Emma, giving her a big smile and holding her to your chest, little kisses from your lips dotting her head, her cheeks. Your eyes slip closed, tension sagging from your shoulders, and he frowns, 

“What happened?” 

“Nothing. He uh, didn’t show.” Oh, sweetheart. You shrug, brushing it off. “But that’s okay, isn’t it?” you coo at Emma, smoothing a hand up and down her back. “Yeah, that’s okay. Mum doesn’t need anyone but you, huh Emmaline?” You say something about putting her to bed, and he barely hears you, too busy thinking about finding the piece of shit that decided to stand you up and breaking every bone in his body. 

You reappear once you’ve got her down, and he still hasn’t made himself scarce, lingering in your kitchen, hands in his pockets. He feels out of place, heart panging at the dejected look at your face. 

“Fuck that guy.” He grunts, and you crack a smile, tucking your arms around yourself. “He’s an idiot.” 

“Yeah.” You’re sullen, rejected, and it makes his blood boil, rage coursing through him knowing that someone made you feel less than the wonder you are. “Thanks for… I guess hanging out with her for a little while, at least. It was really nice of you.” 

“Anytime.” The kitchen is silent for a moment, reflecting your somber mood, and just as he’s about to tell you how stupid that guy is, how much of fool he is to not see what he missed out on, how much he didn’t deserve a single second of your time, you sigh out a whispered confession. 

“I guess it was pretty stupid.” 

“What was stupid, sweetheart?” 

“Going on a date when I have a baby at home. Thinking someone would even want a single mom with a baby at home.” You roll your eyes. “You know, as soon I got out the door, I was thinking about coming back? Couldn’t stop thinking about her. Wishing I was hanging out with my own daughter, and you… instead of going on a date.” His heart latches onto your words, hoarding them close, trying to memorize them so he can recall every syllable when he closes his eyes tonight. 

“That’s not stupid.” He wants to comfort you, promise you that it’s the farthest thing from stupid. 

“Maybe. Either way doesn’t matter, right? I got stood up.” You wince. 

“Whoever he is, he doesn’t deserve a minute of your time.” Your lips part, a little stunned by the steadfast vow, before splitting into a delicate smile, and your head ducks. 

“Thanks, Simon.” 

[mooshywrites]

Sensitivity

Where to touch to drive them wild

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Astarion -

~ Ears ~

You began to pepper Astarion’s face with gentle kisses, you couldn’t help but notice the way his breath hitched and his body tensed beneath your touch. Feeling mischievous, you trailed your lips down to his earlobe, planting a soft kiss there before lingering to gently nibble on the sensitive skin. Astarion let out an involuntary groan, his hand reaching to grasp your waist as he tried to stifle his reaction.

“Sensitive ears, huh?” you teased, feeling a surge of affection for the pale elf beneath you. His facade of nonchalance cracked ever so slightly as he leaned into your touch, a faint blush dusting his pale cheeks. Astarion let out a low chuckle, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement in his voice.

“Not a clue what you mean, pet,” he stuttered, his cheeks flushed ever so slightly.

You smiled before leaning back down repeat your actions. As you continued to kiss his ear, you couldn’t help but notice a shift in Astarion’s demeanor. His grip on your waist tightened, his body arching towards your touch with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. The playful banter was slowly replaced with burning heat. Astarion’s breath became heavier, his wandering hands more needy.

“Perhaps you may have a point.”

Halsin -

~ Thighs ~

You tried your best to ignore your boredom, sitting silently through the Druid’s Grove weekly meeting. Halsin side to your right, nodding to whatever Rath was saying. You sighed dramatically, laying your hand on your Druid’s thigh.

Halsin shifted slightly as your fingers brushed against his thigh, a fleeting look of surprise flashing in his eyes before he quickly composed himself. His gaze met yours, a hint of heat dancing in the depths of his emerald green eyes. You could feel the tension between you two, a subtle electricity crackling in the air as the other druids carried on with their conversation, unaware of the silent exchange happening between you and Halsin.

You leaned in, your breath whispering across his ear. “Don’t tell me the First Druid is that sensitive,” you teased, squeezing his thigh again.

Halsin's breath hitched at your touch, and he swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure. His lips parted as if he were about to respond, but no words came out. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of red that spread down his neck, betraying the calm facade he usually wore.

Clearing his throat, Halsin shifted away slightly, pretending to readjust his position in the meeting circle. But you could sense the tension rolling off him in waves, his every movement betraying the desire that simmered just beneath the surface. He gave you a half-hearted glare, his voice low.

“If you don’t behave, Oak Father preserve me, I’m not going to make it through this meeting.”

Gale -

~ Neck ~

You set down a fresh pot of tea on Gale’s work desk, planting a casual kiss against his jaw as he studied the book in front of him. You felt him shiver slightly under your touch, turning to you. Before you could pull back, he surprised you by grabbing your waist and pulling you closer, his lips eagerly seeking yours in a heated kiss.

His lips were warm and insistent against yours, sending a thrill down your spine as he deepened the kiss. The tea on the desk was forgotten as your hands found their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands. His kiss was demanding yet tender, a mixture of passion and restraint that left you breathless. When you finally pulled away, Gale’s face was painted with a wide smile.

“What on earth was that?” you giggled, landing a peck on his nose.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he grinned.

“Your kiss on my neck seemed to have flipped a switch.”

Wyll -

~ V lines ~

Wyll’s shirt rode up slightly as he reached out to grab a fallen branch, the fabric teasingly exposing a sliver of taut skin. Your gaze was drawn to the hard lines of his waist, a subtle indentation that seemed to beckon your touch. Without thinking, your fingers traced the curve of his V line, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. As your fingertip lingered there, you noticed a slight shiver run through wyll’s body, his breath catching ever so slightly.

In that moment, you realized the effect your touch was having on him.

“Everything alright?” you asked innocently, dragging your fingertips further down.

“Love,” Wyll warned, his hand catching yours.

A mischievous smile played on your lips as you met Wyll’s gaze, the tension in the air palpable.

“And if I don’t?” you challenged.

Wyll’s grasp pulled you closer, his eyes heated as your chest pressed flush against his.

“Then I’ll return the favor of your little tease.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───