#I remember playing Ib back when

[ch0llies]

EARNED IT | MATTHEW STURNIOLO PT.2

read part one here

brothersbestfriend!matt x innocent!reader

You're an 18-year-old high school senior, the innocent little sister of Matt's best friend. Which means off-limits in every way. But 22-year-old college hockey player, Matt can't ignore the way you cling to him, asking dangerous questions with trusting eyes. You don't understand the fire you're playing with- but Matt does. And he's burning to teach you what happens when you get too close.

story warnings: oral (fem reviving), masterbation, lowkey corruption kink (if u squint), brothers best friend, pet names (sweetheart, angel), age gap (four years), etc. all characters are of age. If any of these topics upset you...don't read!

word count: 6k

ib: @ariestrxsh ‘s young god

You pause in the doorway, your breath catching at his words. Earn it? Your stomach twists. Matt watches you with that lazy, knowing smirk that makes your skin itch.

Your fingers tighten on the doorframe. “How do I… earn it?”

Matt’s smirk deepens. He steps forward, closing the space between you just enough to make your pulse stutter. His hand lifts, fingers brushing your jaw, barely touching but enough to make you feel dizzy.

“You’ll know,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “When you deserve it, I’ll give it to you.”

Your breath shudders, heat crawling up your spine. You don’t even know what you’re asking for but the way he’s looking at you, the way your entire body is reacting, makes you desperate to find out.

You swallow hard, shifting on your feet. “But-”

Matt just chuckles, shaking his head as he backs away, hands sliding into the pockets of his grey sweatpants. You look down. His arousal is gone now, or at least, hidden well enough that he’s in control again. Unlike you.

“Go to bed, sweetheart.”

His voice is final, dismissive, like he’s already won whatever game you didn’t realize you were playing.

You bite your lip, hesitating for just a second longer before turning on shaky legs, stepping out into the hallway and returning to your room.

The next morning you try to act like nothing happened, but the moment you step into the kitchen and see Matt leaning against the counter, coffee in hand, wearing that damn fitted black tank top and grey sweatpants again, you feel your entire body react.

His gaze flicks to you immediately.

He notices the way you freeze.

The way your thighs instinctively press together.

The way your lips part slightly, like you’re remembering exactly what they felt like against his.

He smirks. Like he knows. Like he owns every single thought running through your head.

Your brother, completely oblivious, slaps Matt on the back as he walks past. “Dude, you good? You look like you slept like shit.”

Matt huffs a quiet laugh, eyes still locked onto yours and that’s when you finally notice the deep purple eyebags under his eyes. He always had eyebags, but your brother was right. These looked worse.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, taking a slow sip of coffee. “Didn’t get much sleep. Mind was elsewhere.”

Your breath catches.

Your brother shrugs, already grabbing cereal from the cabinet. “I told you not to stay up. We gotta commute back to campus tomorrow morning. We only got today to get our sleep schedule back in check.”

Matt exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly.

“Yeah,” he mutters, his smirk growing as he watches you shift on your feet, still burning under his gaze.

You sit at the kitchen table, trying so hard to act normal, to pretend that your body doesn’t still burn from last night. But it’s impossible when Matt keeps looking at you like that- like he knows exactly what you’re thinking, exactly what your body still craves.

“What the fuck?!”

Your brother’s sharp voice shatters the illusion, making you flinch. Your eyes snap to him just as he’s stepping closer, his expression twisted in disbelief, his gaze locked onto you.

No- your neck.

Your stomach plummets.

His eyes widen, his jaw tightening as he glares at the unmistakable mark just beneath your jawline. The dark, deep, evidence of everything you were trying to keep secret.

Panic floods you.

“I-”

“Who the fuck did this?” His voice is sharp, angry, his fists clenching at his sides.

You freeze, heart hammering, throat dry. You can’t say Matt.

Matt is right there.

Standing beside you, silent. His expression unreadable. He’s watching you, waiting- not stepping in, not making excuses, just waiting to see what you’ll do.

You scramble for something- anything- to say, but before you can, your brother scoffs, his lip curling in disgust.

“You kidding me right now?” His voice is lower now, sharp with anger. “You know who gets hickeys?” He takes a step closer, voice cold “Sluts.”

Your stomach drops.

Heat rushes to your face- not from embarrassment, but from humiliation. You shake your head quickly, trying to explain, but nothing comes out.

Matt stiffens beside you.

“Yo,” his voice is calm but firm, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Lay off, dude”

Your brother whips his head toward him, eyes blazing. “Excuse me?”

Matt crosses his arms, jaw tight. “She’s eighteen now, man. She can make her own decisions.”

Your brother laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh, fuck off with that bullshit, Matt. That’s still my sister.” His glare snaps back to you. “And you? You let some random asshole mark you up like that?”

You flinch, your breath shuddering. “I-”

“You have no fucking self-respect, do you?”

Your throat tightens, burns. Your hands tremble as you grip the table, heat stinging behind your eyes. You feel exposed, humiliated, like a child being scolded for something you barely even understand.

Matt’s jaw flexes, his fists clenching at his sides. His whole body tenses, like he’s barely keeping himself in check. But he still doesn’t step in. Not unless you decide you want him to.

Because this is your secret to tell.

Your brother scoffs again, shaking his head. “Fucking pathetic.”

Your chair scrapes loudly against the floor as you shove yourself up, your vision blurring. “Fuck you.” Your voice cracks, half anger, half tears, but you don’t care.

You turn on your heel and storm out.

You hear Matt curse under his breath, hear your brother mutter something, but you don’t stop. You run down the hall, slamming your door shut behind you before collapsing onto your bed, pressing your face into your pillow as hot, embarrassed tears spill down your cheeks.

It was late now. Almost midnight- maybe even one in the morning. You’ve barely moved from your bed since breakfast, too embarrassed, too humiliated to face anyone, especially Matt.

He didn’t do anything wrong. He didn’t defend you the way you wished, but he also didn’t throw you under the bus. He let you decide whether or not to reveal what happened. But still some part of it was just so embarrassing.

The house is quiet, everyone already in bed. You shift under the covers, your oversized t-shirt sliding against your bare skin, your thigh-high socks still hugging your legs, providing some comfort.

The door creaks open.

A dark figure slips inside, moving carefully, deliberately. The door shuts again with a soft click and you hear the lock slide shortly after.

Your heart stammers, your stomach flipping as the shadow moves closer, the dim light from the hallway illuminating just enough of his face.

Matt.

You sit up quickly, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, your voice a hushed whisper. “Matt?”

“Shhh,” he murmurs, his voice low, soothing.

Your pulse races as he steps closer…. closer…. until he’s right in front of you.

He drops to his knees.

Your breath stutters.

He’s kneeling in front of you, his broad hands and long fingers resting on your thighs, his eyes flickering up to yours, dark and unreadable.

Your lips part, confusion swirling in your chest. “What are you-”

“I’m sorry.”

His voice is soft, rough around the edges, like he’s been holding onto the words all day. His hands squeeze your thighs gently, his gaze never leaving yours.

“For what?” you murmur, genuinely confused.

“For leaving marks,” he says, his fingers tracing lightly over the sensitive skin of your thighs. “I wasn’t thinking.”

You blink, still dazed. “I- I didn’t even know they were there.”

Matt exhales sharply, his jaw clenching.

“I don’t even really know what hickeys are,” you admit, your voice small, unsure.

His lips part slightly, his brows drawing together like your innocence physically pains him. Then, slowly, he drops his forehead onto your thighs, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

“I’m still sorry,” he murmurs, voice muffled against your legs. “It’s my fault.”

Your stomach flutters, your fingers twitching at your sides. You should probably be upset. But all you can focus on is the weight of his head resting against your thighs, the way his hands grip you so gently, as if he’s afraid to hold you too tight.

“It… didn’t hurt or anything,” you murmur.

Matt huffs a quiet laugh against your skin, his breath hot against your bare legs. “That’s not the point, angel.”

There’s a pause, heavy, thick with something you don’t understand.

“What did it feel like?”

Your fingers twitch where they rest against the sheets, your legs pressing together slightly on instinct. You weren’t expecting that question.

“I…. I don’t know,” you stammer, heat creeping up your neck.

Matt lifts his head slightly, his dark eyes flickering up to yours, waiting. “Yes, you do,” he murmurs.

You exhale shakily, your entire body buzzing. You hesitate, then admit, “It… felt like it did yesterday.”

Matt’s gaze sharpens. His fingers flex against your thighs, his grip tightening just slightly. “And what was that?”

Your lips part, but the words won’t come. You’re too flustered, too hot, your thighs squeezing together again as the memory of last night floods your mind.

Matt just watches you.

“Warm,” you whisper, barely audible. “And… and needy.”

His jaw clenches, his fingers sliding higher.

“Where?”

You suck in a breath, unable to say it, so instead, you let your gaze flicker downward. Down to where his hands are still crawling up your thighs, where the warmth is building again, pulsing, aching.

Matt follows your gaze, and when he looks back up at you, his expression changes.

He moves slowly and lowers his head, his breath warm as his lips graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Your fingers dig into the sheets, your stomach flipping, your entire body locking up as he keeps going.

Lower.

Lower.

Until his nose brushes the soft crevice between your thighs, his face pressing directly against the heat radiating from your core.

Your breath shatters.

Matt doesn’t move.

Doesn’t speak.

Just stays there.

Breathing you in.

Letting you feel it.

Your entire body tenses, frozen in place, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. His hands tighten on your thighs, keeping you right where he wants you.

He does nothing. Just lets the weight of his presence sink into you. Like he’s claiming you. Without even touching you.

Matt stays still for a moment, just breathing against you, the warmth of his face pressing into the heat radiating from your core. His grip on your thighs tightens, and then slowly he nuzzles his head deeper, his nose pressing against the soft, sensitive space between your legs.

A soft, strained groan rumbles from his chest, vibrating against your skin.

Your entire body jolts, a sharp gasp ripping from your lips as your back arches involuntarily, your fingers gripping the sheets for something to ground you.

“Matt…” your voice comes out breathy, shaking. “Why are you… putting your head… there?”

He doesn’t answer.

Not at first.

He just stays there, pressed against you, breathing you in like he needs it, like the heat between your thighs is suffocating him but he still wants more.

Slowly, he lifts his head.

His pupils are blown, dark and hungry, his cheeks flushed, lips parted slightly as his gaze locks onto yours. His breath is heavy, his chest rising and falling like he’s trying to control himself but he can’t.

His voice is thick, strained.

“Because it doesn’t just make me feel warm and needy.” His grip on you tightens, his jaw clenching. “No… it makes me feel even better than on fire.”

Your lips part, your stomach twisting. “Even better than on fire?”

Matt exhales sharply, his eyes flickering down, back to where his face had just been.

Then without hesitation he drops his head again, his nose pressing into you even firmer this time. His arms slide around you, wrapping around your lower back, his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you closer against his face like he needs to feel you.

You let out a small, shaky whimper as your body jerks forward, pressing even more against him.

Matt groans again, his fingers digging into your skin, his breath hot against you.

“Yes,” he rasps, voice muffled against your thighs. “Even better than on fire.”

Matt stays pressed against you, his warm breath fanning over the sensitive heat between your thighs. His grip tightens on your hips, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh as he pulls you impossibly closer.

And then he pushes his nose deeper.

A sharp, unexpected shock runs through you as he nudges against something sensitive, something that makes your entire body jerk. A moan slips past your lips before you can stop it- a high, breathy, and completely foreign to your own ears. Just like the sound yesterday but even worse.

Your eyes widen immediately, a gasp catching in your throat as you slap a hand over your mouth. Your body tenses, heat flooding every inch of your skin.

“Matty-” your voice is shaky, breathless. “What was that?”

Matt stays still, his nose still buried between your thighs, his breath slow and deliberate as he exhales against the damp fabric of your underwear. When he finally pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression is unreadable.

“What?” he murmurs, his voice low, teasing.

Before you can respond, he does it again.

Another press of his nose, deliberate and slow, right against that same spot.

Your entire body twitches. Your back arches slightly, another sound escaping your throat, softer this time- more desperate.

“That,” you gasp, your fingers clutching at the sheets beneath you, your head tilting back slightly. “That feels really…”

You trail off, your face burning, your breathing uneven as you struggle to even form the words.

Matt watches you carefully, his lips parting slightly, his jaw tight as he exhales through his nose. Then, he leans in again, pressing another slow, intentional nudge against that same spot.

“That’s a spot on girls,” he murmurs against you, his breath hot through the fabric. “It helps you feel really, really good.” His thumbs rub soothing circles into your hips. “Do you feel good when I do that?”

You whimper, the sound soft and helpless as your hands instinctively fly to his hair, your fingers gripping the strands without thinking. Your thighs tremble slightly around his head as another rush of warmth pools deep in your stomach.

A shaky breath leaves your lips as you barely manage to whisper-

“…Yes.”

Matt watches you carefully, his breathing slow and controlled despite the tension crackling between you like fire. His hands, still gripping your thighs, slowly slide up, slipping beneath the oversized t-shirt hanging loosely over your frame. His palms are warm against your bare skin, fingertips tracing soft, teasing patterns as he pushes the fabric up, exposing more of you to him.

“You want me to keep goin’, angel?” His voice is low, rough, thick with something dangerous.

You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod.

Without thinking you press your fingers deeper into his hair, giving the slightest push, an unconscious plea.

His pupils darken instantly, his lips parting as a low groan escapes him. But it’s not just that. It’s the way your thighs instinctively spread wider, granting him more access without even realizing it.

“Fuck,” Matt breathes, his grip tightening on your hips for a moment before he leans back in.

The first press of his nose is slow, testing, just like before.

And then- he flicks it.

A sharp, teasing nudge directly against that sensitive spot.

Your entire body jerks, a gasp breaking from your lips, your thighs twitching around his head. But Matt doesn’t stop. No, he keeps doing it. Slow at first as always, up and down, teasing motions that make your breath stutter and your grip in his hair tighten.

Then he groans. Low, deep, and vibrating against you.

The sensation sends another shockwave through your body, and a soft, helpless moan slips past your lips.

“Yeah?” Matt murmurs against you, his voice thick with need. “That feel good, sweetheart?”

You can’t even respond properly. Just a breathless, desperate whimper as your hips shift slightly, pressing closer.

Matt smirks against you before dragging his nose up, then back down, rubbing slow, torturous circles against you before flicking against that sensitive spot again.

A choked moan rips from your throat, your body reacting before your mind can catch up, your thighs trembling around him.

“Fuck, angel,” Matt groans again, his voice gravelly and wrecked, like he’s barely holding himself together. “You sound so fuckin’ sweet.”

He presses harder, a slow, teasing drag, and your body shakes, another desperate whimper slipping free.

Your head tilts back, fingers gripping his hair tightly, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

Matt lets out another ragged groan, his hands gripping your thighs firmly as he keeps going, his voice muffled but still deliberate-

“Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

And when he flicks his nose just right again, you do.

Matt groans against you, the vibrations sending another sharp wave of pleasure through your body. His hands grip your thighs tighter, his fingers flexing like he’s desperate to hold you in place.

You are a mess.

Your breath is ragged, your legs trembling as he keeps going, dragging his nose in slow, deliberate motions against that sensitive spot. Every flick, every press, every little nuzzle makes your thighs twitch, makes another helpless moan spill from your lips.

Matt loves it.

You can feel how much he loves it. The way his grip tightens, the way his breathing turns heavier, the way his groans slip out with every little movement.

“Fuck,” he mutters against you, voice wrecked. “You’re shaking.”

You are. Your thighs are trembling under his touch, your hands fisted tightly in his hair, your entire body burning.

“Feels so- mhphh- feel so good,” you gasp, barely able to speak through the overwhelming sensation.

Matt groans at that, his grip on you tightening.

“You like that, yeah?” he murmurs, flicking his nose against you again, making you arch. “Like me making you feel good?”

You can only nod, breathless, your fingers tugging at his hair as another moan slips from your lips.

Matt smirks against you before dragging his nose up again, then back down, teasing you, working you up so slowly you feel like you’re going to lose your mind.

“Matty,” you whimper, voice shaking.

He hums in response, the deep sound sending another shudder through your body.

“You sound so fuckin’ sweet, angel,” he groans. “So perfect.”

And then he does it again. A slow, firm press, his nose nudging against you just right, and your entire body jerks, another sharp, desperate moan breaking from your throat.

Matt can feel it- the way your body is trembling under his touch, the way your fingers are gripping his hair tightly, like you need something to anchor you through the overwhelming sensations rolling through you.

His lips part against your nearly soaked through panties, his breath hot and ragged as he presses in deeper, his nose dragging slow, deliberate movements that make you whimper, make your back arch off the bed.

“Oh my- Matt,” you gasp, voice breathless and shaking.

He groans, his grip on your thighs tightening. “That’s it, angel,” he mutters against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through your core. “Let me hear you.”

You barely register what you’re doing. Your body acts before your brain can catch up. Your thighs spread more, giving him better access, and he takes full advantage.

His movements become more focused, more precise, flicking his nose against that exact spot over and over again, pressing firmer, dragging the tip up and down before pushing in harder.

Your breath shatters, a high-pitched whimper slipping from your lips.

“Oh-”

Matt groans deeply, his voice thick with need. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps. “You’re shaking so much.”

You really are, too. Your legs trembling around his head, your stomach clenching with each movement he makes.

“Feels…” You gasp sharply as another flick sends you spiraling, your hands tightening in his hair. “Feels so-”

Matt hums again, the deep vibration sparking another moan from you.

“I know, angel,” he breathes, dragging his nose in slow, torturous strokes against you. “I know. Just let go.”

Your entire body tenses, heat pooling low in your stomach, coiling tighter, tighter. The pressure is overwhelming, so much more than anything you’ve ever felt, building and building until-

A sharp flick. A firm press.

You break.

A soft, desperate cry escapes you as your entire body shatters, waves of pleasure crashing over you, your thighs clamping around his head as you tremble, gasping for air.

Matt groans as he feels you come undone beneath him, his grip firm, his voice wrecked as he murmurs, “That’s it, angel. Let me feel you.”

Your hands tighten in his hair, your body writhing beneath him as he keeps going, drawing it out, letting you ride the high until you’re left breathless, limp against the bed, completely spent.

He finally pulls back, his breath heavy, his lips parted as he looks up at you with pure hunger.

He watches you, his breath still ragged, his pupils dark and hungry as he takes in the sight of you. Of your body trembling, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, your thighs still twitching from the overwhelming sensation coursing through you.

Without a word, he leans back in.

Your breath catches as he licks a slow, deliberate stripe up the soaking wet fabric of your underwear, the heat of his tongue pressing firmly against the sensitive spot he had just been teasing mercilessly with his nose.

Your whole body jolts, a small whimper slipping from your lips as he finally pulls away.

Matt exhales heavily, his breath warm against your skin as he lifts his head, resting his cheek against your thigh, his hands still gripping them firmly, keeping you open.

And then he looks up at you, his expression something almost possessive flickering behind his gaze.

“You know how you asked me what cumming was?” he murmurs, his voice low, deep, dangerous.

Your breath stutters, your stomach flipping violently as you suddenly feel it- the way your body is still pulsing, the wetness between your thighs making everything too real.

Your face burns.

You inhale sharply, trying to press your legs closed out of instinct, out of sheer embarrassment, but Matt’s hands immediately tighten around your thighs, keeping them spread.

You let out a small, flustered whimper, your body still oversensitive, still buzzing, and Matt’s lips twitch into a knowing smirk as he trails a single finger along the wet fabric, pressing just lightly, just enough to make your breath hitch.

His voice drops, his tone laced with something smug, something possessive.

“That was cumming.”

Your chest rises and falls as your body continues to hum with the aftershocks of what just happened.

You swallow hard, blinking down at Matt, who’s still resting his cheek against your thigh, watching you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

You shift slightly, trying to process everything, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you as your mind struggles to catch up. “Oh,” you whisper, your voice soft, dazed. “That was the… release you were talking about.”

Matt exhales sharply, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice still thick with desire. “That was the release.”

Your body shudders again as you feel it- another slow, warm trickle of something leaking through your already soaking underwear, your thighs twitching at the sensation. You shift slightly, uncomfortable, still feeling so sensitive.

Matt notices.

His eyes darken as he watches the way you move, his grip tightening on your thighs. He pulls them further apart, just slightly, just enough to get a better view of your cum leaking through your underwear.

Your breath catches, your face burning, and you stutter, your voice barely above a whisper. “W-was that what you meant when you said you were going to be inside me?”

The instant the words leave your lips, Matt’s entire body tenses.

His fingers dig into your thighs, his jaw clenching as his head drops for a moment, his chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths like he’s trying to keep himself in check.

You blink down at him, confused by his reaction, watching as he visibly composes himself before finally lifting his head again.

His pupils are blown, his cheeks flushed, but when he meets your gaze, he manages a smirk, shaking his head slightly.

“No, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice rough, strained. “Not quite.”

You pout, shifting slightly again, still feeling the lingering ache between your legs. “I haven’t earned it yet?”

Matt huffs a quiet laugh, his smirk deepening as he tilts his head, dragging his thumbs slowly up your inner thighs, his gaze locked onto yours.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with promise as he stands up and kisses your forehead. “Go to sleep.”

You simply nod, closing your eyes and flopping back on the bed, eyes already fluttering shut.

Matt watches you turn over and then walks toward your door.

The moment your door clicks shut, Matt exhales sharply, pressing his forehead against the wood and gripping the door handle hard. His knuckles turn white from the pressure, his breathing still ragged, still uneven. His entire body is tight- burning, aching, straining against the very last threads of his self-control.

Jesus Christ.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to steady himself, but it’s fucking impossible. Not after what just happened. Not after you looked at him like that, asked him those questions with your wide, innocent eyes, spread your legs for him like it was natural, like you trusted him with your body in a way that made him feel both honored and fucking ruined.

And then your sweet oblivious little mouth just had to ask if that was what he meant when he said he’d be inside you.

Matt groans under his breath, his jaw clenching so tight it aches. He can still see you, still feel the heat of you against his face, the way you twitched, gasped, moaned for him. His name had slipped from your lips like a prayer, and fuck- he had almost lost himself right then and there.

He had barely. Barely. Held himself together.

But now?

Now, he’s alone.

Now, there’s nothing stopping him.

His hands shake as he shoves down the waistband of his sweatpants, the thick pressure of his arousal almost painful at this point. His cock is aching, flushed and leaking, proof of just how much you had affected him- proof of just how fucking desperate he is for you.

A harsh breath leaves his lips as he wraps a fist around himself, finally getting the friction he needs. His head tilts back slightly, his other hand pressed flat against the wooden door as he strokes himself, letting his mind wander exactly where it wants to go.

You.

Your flushed face, your swollen lips, the way your breath had stuttered every time he pressed against your clit, how you had gasped when you came, how your fingers had tangled in his hair, tugging, holding him there like you never wanted him to leave.

Fuck.

Matt squeezes his eyes shut, his jaw tightening as he picks up the pace, his breath turning uneven, ragged. His hips jerk into his fist, and his mind spirals further- what if he hadn’t stopped? What if he had really shown you what it meant to have him inside you? What if he had been buried between your thighs, licking into you, tasting you properly, making you come again, and again, and again, until you were crying his name, begging for more-

His breath shudders, his stomach tightening, his grip firm as he chases it. He was so fucking close, so wound up, his body on fire, his thighs tensing as a low, guttural groan rumbles from his chest.

It crashes into him fast, hard- his release ripping through him in sharp, pulsing waves as he cups his tip with his other hand, catching the release in his palm so he doesn’t cum on the floor. His hand slows, his chest rising and falling in deep, heavy breaths, his entire body thrumming from the intensity of it.

For a moment, he just stands there, his palm still wrapped around himself, hand full of his cum, and his head tilted backward.

He quickly rushes himself to the bathroom, and clean up. it isn’t until he washes his hands in the sink that the thought briefly crosses his mind. He drags a hand down his face. What if your brother had walked out? Or worse, your father?

But Matt wasn’t truly thinking about that. Not at all.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his body still buzzing from the release and somehow still aching for more.

It should’ve been enough. Should’ve. But it wasn’t.

Not even close.

Because the second he dries his hands and leans against the counter, gripping the cool edge with both hands, his mind betrays him, replaying every single fucking second of what had just happened all over again.

The way you looked at him. The way you gasped when he touched you. The way your voice had trembled when you whispered his name, all breathless and needy, like you needed him, like you had never felt anything like that before.

His jaw clenches, his fingers flexing against the counter, his body already stirring back to life, heat curling low in his stomach again.

He groans under his breath, shoving a hand through his hair. His body is still so wired, still so fucking hard, and he knows there’s only one way to fix it.

He turns the faucet on, letting the water run as he braces himself over the sink, staring at his own reflection. His pupils are blown, his skin still flushed, his chest rising and falling too fast.

He can still smell you on his face.

His grip tightens on the edge of the sink, his breath coming out in a slow, shaky exhale.

Then, without hesitation, he shoves his sweatpants down again, his cock already achingly hard once more.

He barely has time to wrap a fist around himself before his hips jerk into his palm, the sensation making him groan low in his throat.

His hand moves so very slow. He was teasing, taunting, and dragging the pleasure out in long, torturous strokes, just like he had done to you.

Fuck, angel, his mind taunts, replaying his own words against his skull. You sound so fuckin’ sweet.

His breathing shudders, his grip tightening. A deep groan rips from his throat, his strokes faster now, his hips chasing the sensation.

But it’s not enough.

He needs more.

He needs to see you again.

His jaw clenches as he yanks his phone off the counter, flicking the camera on and angling it towards the mirror. His pupils are blown, his chest flushed, his cock thick and leaking, his hand wrapped tight around himself.

He groans again, dropping his own dick to grab his shirt, pulling it between his teeth before returning to the throbbing member, pumping it a few times before snapping a few pictures.

After talking that he tilts the phone downward, recording for a few seconds as he slowly strokes himself, watching the way his abs tense as he fucks into his own hand.

He imagines sending it to you as he puts the phone facedown back on the counter.

Imagines your innocent little gasp when you see it.

Imagines your wide, curious eyes as you whisper, Matty, why does it look like that?

Imagines himself teaching you.

A ragged moan tears from his throat, his body tensing, his stomach tightening as the heat coils in his spine, building- building- building-

Until he shatters again.

His breath stutters, his hand slowing, his body pulsing, his release spilling over his fingers in thick, hot waves.

His jaw drops, his head tilting back, his chest heaving as he rides it out, so fucking spent that his knees nearly buckle.

He stands there for a moment, panting, gripping the counter, waiting for his body to stop shaking.

He barely has time to catch his breath before the need creeps back in for the third time. He was so sensitive and so overstimulated that he didn’t think it was even possible to be still hard. But here he was. His muscles were still tense, his skin overheated, his body thrumming with the aftershocks of release.

His cock is still hard, twitching against his abdomen, a constant, aching reminder of what he just did- and what he still wants.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his damp hair, his jaw clenching as his fingers flex against the counter. The mirror reflects the mess he’s become- flushed cheeks, sweat-slicked skin, pupils blown so wide that his irises are barely visible.

He knows what he’s about to do is reckless.

He knows he shouldn’t.

But that innocent little pout you gave him earlier? The way you whispered, I haven’t earned it yet? The way you looked at him with those wide eyes as if you had no clue what you were actually asking for?

Fuck.

His phone is still face down on the counter.

He grabs it.

His other hand is already sliding down, already pushing his waistband down. He tilts the phone in one hand, aiming it downward as he presses record.

His fingertips skim down his stomach, dragging over his tightened abs, the muscles twitching under his touch. He hisses softly, teasing himself, delaying the inevitable as he traces the sharp lines of his obliques, feeling the tension coil again, deeper, tighter.

His cock jumps, aching for attention, the head still slick and sensitive from his last orgasm. But he doesn’t grip himself yet- not yet.

Instead, he lets his fingers tease, barely brushing the flushed tip, smearing the remnants of his cum across his skin, feeling the hot, sticky slickness coat his fingertips.

A low groan vibrates from his chest as he swirls his thumb over the head, his body jerking at the overstimulation.

“Fuck-”

The sound echoes in the bathroom, rough and needy.

He sets the phone down on the counter, leaning against the wall so his face is now in frame too, his breath coming out uneven as his fingers finally wrap around himself again.

The first stroke is a torturous drag from base to tip. His grip was firm but not tight, just enough to make his hips stutter forward, chasing the friction.

His breath shudders, his stomach tightening as he squeezes just a little harder, dragging his fist back down.

He rolls his hips into his hand, setting a rhythm. Slow but deep, each stroke sending a sharp pulse of pleasure up his spine.

He starts to buck his hips up, his thumb circling the leaking tip before dragging back down along the vein running the underside of his shaft.

His pace picks up, his grip tighter now, his strokes longer, firmer, his abs flexing with every sharp movement.

A growl rumbles in his throat as he tilts his head back, his jaw going slack as his pleasure builds, stronger, heavier, deeper.

His thighs tense as he pumps his fist faster, his breath coming out in harsh, ragged pants, sweat beading at his temple as his body coils tight, tight, tight-

The tension is blistering, a sharp, almost painful heat curling at the base of his spine, twisting through his muscles, spreading everywhere.

His chest heaves, his entire body locking up as his strokes turn sloppy, desperate, chasing the sharp edge of release that’s so fucking close-

“Fuck, Y/N-”

The moment your name falls from his lips, his body shatters.

A deep moan tears from his throat as pleasure crashes through him hard, blinding and nearly unbearable.

Thick ropes of release spill over his fist again, streaking hot across his stomach, dripping onto his abs as his body shakes, his thighs genuinely trembling with the aftershocks.

His strokes slow, his breath stuttering, his muscles clenching and unclenching drastically as he rides it out, his head dropping forward, sweat dampening his hair.

For a few moments, the only sound in the bathroom is his ragged breathing, the soft hum of the ventilation fan, the faint creak of the counter as he braces against it.

His hand is still wrapped around himself, sticky and hot.

His phone screen flickers.

And that’s when he realizes-

The video was still recording.

The entire thing.

The sharp, filthy sounds of his pleasure, the way he groaned your name, the way his body unraveled for you.

And before he can think, before he can talk himself out of it, his finger hovers over send.

And then he presses it.

a/n: yall wanted a part 2 so bad so here you go🧡🧡 lmk if u want a part 3

PART THREE OUT NOW

MASTERLIST

for @mattsobvimyfav

tags: @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt @sturniolohohoho @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @matthewsturnsgf @aaa-mi @bigbeefybitch @hopelesslydevotedsstuff @wastelandzella @yourmother29 @whore4-chrissturniolo @idefinitelyhateu @madisonnxtdoor22 (if u wanna be on the taglist, just comment)

[oopsiedaisydeer]

to do list

smut, voice message format, dumbification, dilf!matt, spanking, degradation

ib: this delicious blurb by @phone4pills

word count - 500ish

“you have one new voice message, please press 1 to listen”

“message received at 10:19 pm on Monday the 16th of June 2025”

[wet slaps echo in the background. his voice is low and smug, breathless but controlled]

“Hey. Just leaving this now… since you’ll be too dumb to think straight after.”

[grunts, sharp slap, high whimper]

“God, listen to yourself. So fucking loud. What if the kids wake up, huh? Can’t even shut up with my cock in you. Didn’t like being told to shut up, remember? But look how good you’re taking it now.”

[he laughs, rough and mocking. you moan again, choked off when his hand closes around your throat.]

“Anyway. To-do list for tomorrow.” 

[another slap.]

“One: pack their lunches — properly this time. Not just chips and yogurt, sweetheart.”

[a muffled “yes, daddy” can be heard]

“Two: laundry. And if I find my shirt still dirty, you’re getting bent over the dryer next.”

[another thrust. you cry out softly. the audio crackles like the phone’s being jostled.]

“Three: pick up more milk. And four…” 

[a slick squelch, her gasping]

“Fuck, you're soaking. Look at the mess you're making.”

[the thrusts slow, Matt's voice dropping to a whisper.]

“When they nap, you’re gonna come find me. No panties. Something short, something that rides up every time you bend over, like my slut.”

[you moan again, breath ragged, almost crying.]

“You act so innocent when they’re around, but look at you now. Bent over, drooling on my fucking floor, begging for it. Think you’re fooling anyone?”

“P-please… I—”

“Oh, now you wanna beg?” 

[laughs under his breath.] 

“You should see yourself. Mascara everywhere, mouth open, clenching around me like a whore.”

[he growls, pace quickening, thrusts louder. you sob his name between moans.]

“Number five: mop the bathroom. You made a mess on the floor. Dripping all over like a bitch in heat. Pathetic.”

“Can’t… think—”

“Didn’t ask you to. Just do what you’re told, yeah?” 

[slaps your ass again.]

“You don’t get to have a brain when I’m inside you. Just a tight little hole and a to-do list.”

[the sounds escalate — sharper, wetter, filthier — until his voice falters slightly. you cry out beneath him as he buries himself deep one last time.]

“Mmm. There it is. Gonna fill you up, make you leak through that pretty dress all day tomorrow.”

[the recording crackles, quieter now. you hear his hand slide down your back, a lazy smack to your thigh.]

“Alright. That’s all. Oh almost forgot – last thing.

“If you don’t have everything done by dinner, I’m fucking you over the kitchen counter next time. And I won’t be nearly this nice.”

“…oh and if you save this message, you better play it on repeat while you're cleaning up. Maybe touch yourself a little. But don’t you fucking cum. I’ll know if you do.”

[click]

“you have reached the end of your messages. to delete, press seven. to save, press nine.”

[dial tone]

[silence]

dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more ꨄ

a/n: daddy

thanks for reading!!! likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated 💌

[hellspawnmotel]

Thinking about Deltarune and how it plays with gender roles made me think about something; when people insist on assigning binary gender to the protagonists, I’ve noticed people usually treat Frisk and Chara as “girls” and Kris as a “boy”. I’ve seen vanishingly few instances where it’s the reverse. I wonder why that is

I've noticed the same thing! I remember occasionally seeing chara referred to as a boy back in 2015, but otherwise it's extremely consistent. I think it's due to a combination of things- one that frisk somewhat resembles madotsuki from yume nikki, so maybe early reviews or playthroughs that came from indie gamers assumed frisk was also a girl and it caught on. I have no way to verify this but it's what I personally always thought. there's also the fact that treating frisk as a pure self-insert was extremely common even after finishing the true pacifist route, and most of the younger members of the undertale fandom were teen girls (or at least they were girls then. many of them are not girls now lmao). so there was a really large community of portraying frisk not just as a little girl but a young woman, usually to be shipped with sans (cuz y'know sans was a hot commodity back in the day). and finally, and probably the most influential reason- undertale came out just after the rpgmaker boom of the early 2010s. and when you think about classic rpgmaker games that involve a young, vulnerable and often voiceless child exploring a dangerous environment (ib, the witch's house, mad father, and again yume nikki, among others), what do most of them have in common? yup, all the protagonists are girls. so I think for people who didn't have being nonbinary as an option at the front of their minds, it would be far more likely to assume frisk was a girl too and not give it a second thought.

(edit: I'm an idiot the most obvious answer is just that frisk has long hair. like it would be considered long on a boy I mean. and people assume any hair length past the ears = girl, so like of course people would see frisk as a girl. and you could argue that kris has longer hair too but still gets seen as a boy, but kris has kind of that emo teen thing going on which is one of the circumstances you might expect a boy to grow their hair out in. and generally younger kids don't have as much freedom with hairstyles.)

as for kris I think it has much more to do with assumptions of gender roles in a story, which is part of why I harp on it so much. in the light world, kris appears to be a depressed loner in a fashion more commonly associated in media with teenage boys. in addition, in their sprite their upper body appears somewhat wider than their legs and hips. in the dark world, kris is dressed as a knight, a traditionally male role, and is the silent leader commanding a party, also a traditionally male role (in JRPGs). given those things I think it's much more likely this was deliberate on toby's part, since he already knew players would leap to label a genderless protagonist as "one way or the other" and there isn't really a way to design a character that is able to convince a lot of people otherwise. so like, might as well use that as part of the meta. (I THINK, anyway. obviously I don't know for sure. I could be totally overanalyzing all this)

[blueblossomcherry]

SUNRISE WITH YOU ⋆₊ lee minho

🌑 ——— i will never make you lonely

▫️ MASTERLIST

▫️ lm x f reader 1.3k fluff, smut, mdni

▫️ layout ib @bbokvhs

⋆₊ It's been weeks since Minho has had a day off, but fortunately he's off today. The two of you had plans to stay in bed all day, cuddling and watching movies. You had wanted to sleep for as long as possible, however those plans were ruined when you were awoken by the light coming from your window.

You roll over and see Minho still sound asleep. Once you settle, you feel Minho's arms wrap around your waist. Snuggling into his warmth, you take a moment to admire your sleeping boyfriend. He’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, with his soft hair and his cat-like features. You have the urge to brush his hair out of his eyes but the last thing you want to do is wake him up, knowing he needs his sleep. After a few moments, you feel him stirring in his slumber.

“Good morning, love,” He says, in his sexy morning voice.

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” You say, smiling and kissing his forehead.

“I always sleep well when you're with me,” He replies, smiling and winking. You laugh in response. He always has a way of putting a smile on your face, no matter the situation. That's your favorite thing about him. 

“I love you so much Minho,” You tell him, stars in your eyes and a blush on your cheeks. You still get shy saying that to him. Even after a whole year, you just can’t believe he’s yours.

“I love you more,” Minho says, a serious look in his eyes, as if he wants to make sure you know just how much he means it.

“Do you remember what today is?” You ask, excitedly. You knew he would remember, he’s remembered everything to do with you since the day you guys met.

“Do you really think I would forget something as important as our anniversary?” He asks, jokingly looking offended. You just smile at him, getting lost in his gorgeous eyes. He sits up, looking you in the eyes.

“Happy anniversary, love,” He whispers, his lips just inches away from yours. You close your eyes, waiting for him to kiss you. When you don’t feel his lips against yours, you open your eyes. Only to find him looking at you with a teasing smile on his face.

“Minho,” You whine, pouting your lips. His eyes immediately darken, watching your lips. Seeing this, you decide to get back at him for teasing you. You push him back on the bed, straddling his hips. He groans and you can feel him growing hard under you within seconds. You smile at just how easily he’s wrapped around your finger. Rolling your hips against his, you start kissing his neck. His clothed tip hits your clit perfectly, making your eyes roll back. 

“Come on baby, let me see that pretty face,” He tells you, grabbing your hair and forcing you to look at him. You moan out loud at the force, placing your hands on his chest for balance. You feel yourself getting close, hips stuttering. Minho, seemingly noticing, grabs your hips, forcefully stopping you from moving.

“No, please let me cum,” You plead, already sensing that you were in for a long morning. 

“Already begging?” He asks, laughing at how pathetic you sounded already. Taking your shirt off, he flipped you both over. His eyes dilated at the sight in front of him. Underneath him was exactly where he wanted you at all times. His rough hands playing with your perfect tits as you moaned softly. Feeling your arousal through your soaked panties on his thigh.

He lowered his mouth down to your nipple, licking and sucking. While he was abusing your nipple with his mouth, he brought his fingers up to the other, his thumb teasingly circling it. You couldn’t hold your moans in, making him smirk. Once he decided they were given enough attention, he moved down, kissing down your stomach until he got to your panties. 

“Look how wet you are for me,” He coos, rubbing your clit through your panties. 

“Can I taste you baby?” He asks, waiting for your consent before he goes any further. You nod, unable to speak from how desperate you were. 

“I need words, love,” Minho tells you, looking you in the eyes.

“Yes, please,” You breathe out, needing to be touched by him. He removes your panties, breath hitching as he sees them sticking to your wet cunt. You spread your legs further, giving him a good look at your glistening folds. He dives right in, flicking your clit with his tongue, as his fingers find your pulsating hole. Immediately, your hands find his hair, yanking and pulling every time he hits a sensitive spot. Eventually, he removes his fingers, earning a whine from you at the loss of contact. He lowers his tongue, teasingly lapping everywhere except where you need him most.

“Minho, stop teasing,” You whine, pulling his hair harder. He groans, his tongue finally entering you. With his tongue thrusting into you and his nose hitting your clit every so often, it was only a matter of time until you reached the edge. 

“Fuck, Minho I’m gonna cum,” You moan out, arching your back.

“Cum around my tongue baby,” He says against your cunt, the vibration pushing you over the edge.You came with a loud moan, Minho helping you ride out your high with his tongue. You felt exhausted but you knew he wasn’t done with you yet. 

“Can you get up, love? We don’t have to do anymore if you’re too tired,” He says, clearly concerned. You smile at how much he clearly cares for you. 

“I’m okay,” You tell him, brushing his hair back from his eyes. He offers his hand to help you up and you take it. Once you’re up, Minho starts kissing you. You kiss him back, your hands immediately back in his hair. 

“Do you mind if I record this, baby? I want to be able to reminisce on our 1st anniversary,” He says, smiling. You smile back, remembering him talking about wanting to record you guys one time.

“Please do,” You reply, winking at him. His smile widens and he gets off the bed to set his phone up. When he comes back, he positions himself behind you. 

“Are you ready?” He asks, lining his dick up with your entrance. Instead of answering him, you back yourself up, his cock slipping in. 

“Mmmm, fuck,” He moans out, surprised by your actions, gripping your hips to steady himself.

“Minho, please move,” You plead, clenching around his cock. He starts slamming into you, not giving you any time to adjust. He moves his hands from your hips to your ass, smacking and grabbing. The pain slowly turns into pleasure and before you know it, the only sounds in the room are pants, moans and skin slapping together. Minho grabs a fistful of your hair with one of his hands and pulls it back, forcing your head back. With his other hand, he finds your clit and starts circling it. You moan loudly, about to reach your high for the second time this morning. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby,” Minho moans out, his eyes rolled back. You moan in agreement, your eyes screwed shut from the pleasure he’s giving you. Once you both reach your high, you collapse from exhaustion. 

Minho shuts off the camera and gets a wet cloth to clean you up. Once he's done cleaning you up, he goes into your closet and gets you some new clothes. He helps you slip into them and helps you back into bed.

“I’m gonna go make us some food, love,” Minho tells you as he tucks you back into bed. Oh, how lucky you are to have a boyfriend like him.

᥉tella speaks ⋆₊ reposting this with a new design

᥉tella’s thoughts ⋆₊ i felt like my old blog was so ugly

[yingdu-lover]

MDZS extras are heavenly crumbs I can NEVER get enough of. I wish one day she writes more (as she did with TGCF two years ago).

Last night, I picked MDZS volume 5 for a 'lullaby reading' (max 30 min I expected) but ended up being awake till 2 am lmao (I am a fast reader but I was annotating, commenting, musing - basically it took a lot of time). I read the Extra 4 titled Gate Crasher. In this post, I specifically want to talk about a scene I loved so much.

If you read the story you will know the full context but basically just keep in mind that Wangxian were sitting inside a room (supervising, deducting and waiting in case Sizhui needed any help) and Lan Sizhui was fighting with a fierce corpse outside. Now here is the interesting catch : by listening to Lan Sizhui's sword movements, Wei Wuxian realised he was not following pure sword techniques of the Gusu Lan clan, rather a few attacks aligned with the Yunmeng Jiang clan's swordsmanship. Both deduce that it might be Jin Ling's influence on him as the two juniors frequently went to Night Hunts together. It was of course easy for Wei Wuxian to tell but he asked Lan Wangji how he deducted the same.

Lan Wangji's answer is really impressive. He remembered Jiang swordsmanship from the (very few) sword fights he had with a rebellious guest student in Gusu (when they first met), namely Wei Wuxian over violating rules. Lan Wangji remembered that. Not only that he remembered but also he could tell it just by listening to the sword movements. The next scene is simply cinematic.

Wei Wuxian brings a candle closer to Lan Wangji to see his (probably blushing) face, Lan Wangji is alert and tries to push the candle back, grasping Wei Wuxian's hand (it proves that he indeed was blushing). The candle flame flickers and Wei Wuxian- okay let me paste the section

"...And yet you can remember the techniques and identify them from sound alone. Isn't that impressive?

As he spoke, he pushed the candle flame over to Lan Wangji in order to see if his earlobes had gone red. However, Lan Wangji saw through his wicked intent and grasped Wei Wuxian's hand, pushing the candle back toward him. The candle flame wavered like it was drunk as it was pushed to and fro, its light flickering across Wei Wuxian's smiling eyes and curved lips. The sight made Lan Wangji swallow hard.

The other extras have a bounty of explicit intimate scenes (which I love equally) but this particular scene...I can't get it off my mind. Think in terms of image, or moving image, cinema or animation. A scene of gradually shifting chiaroscuro frames and Wei Wuxian speaking in a low voice, almost whispers (because there was a third person in the room completely ignorant of their chemistry) the words in low raspy teasing voice. The bright candle. I am a sucker for a play of light and shadows which are visually very sensual itself, it leaves a long impression on your mind, and how they create multiple layers of meanings in terms of exploring the psychology of the subjects in the frame. The candle, on one hand is literally used by Wei Wuxian to expose Lan Wangji's emotions, and on the other hand it symbolises sensuality, passion and desire initiated and ignited by Wei Wuxian. This is a subtle yet tantalizing game, a sensual 'back and forth' told through flame imagery. The moment when Lan Wangji grasps Wei Wuxian's wrist in order to save himself, he actually looses. He is discovered. The candle flame reveals the intoxication of passion Lan Wangji is very poor at concealing. Lan Wangji's desire reflects in Wei Wuxian's eyes, ah the great Hanguangjun is caught red handed, and the victorious smile adorns Wei Wuxian's lips; he has successfully won the game of seduction.

I can't tell you enough how artistically brilliant and sensual this scene felt like- omg. IB extras ok but Lan Wangji grabbing Wei Wuxian's wrist in panic, that touch in desperation sends my mind elsewhere. Throughout the extras, both Wei Wuxian and us, the readers keep discovering how Lan Wangji had been obsessed with Wei Wuxian in the past in various ways. To remember an outrageous student's swordsmanship to the point of identifying its signature moves two decades later...is indeed awesome. One among a million other things I would always thank The Untamed for is portraying the homoerotically charged sword fight during the first meeting. Purely iconic. There is a sense of chase, Wei Wuxian's playful defiance is infuriating to Lan Zhan who is trying to subdue Wei Wuxian but is not able to do so. Lan Wangji is losing to Wei Wuxian till this day. The fact that the topic of sword fighting literally and metaphorically connects to this play of desire and Wei Wuxian, for the nth time, finds Lan Wangji's weak points and pulls his heartstrings as he pleases is promptimg the butterflies in my stomach to wreck a wild dance.

[moonyskarma]

#001 — you're my, my, my, my . . lover

— my lovers across the multiverse, forever in my heart (and soul xx) || ib: @zaddizu ‹𝟹

#001 . . . JAMES "BUCKY" BARNES . . . marvel

the infamous winter soldier, the white wolf, the brooklyn born assassin-turned-avenger. also known as the love of my life. he's my soulmate. my better half, though he'd say it's the other way around.

we became very close very quickly—to the point of inseparability after just a few weeks. trauma-bonding, i guess, as both of us had been through HYDRA—albeit his time was far worse than mine. that's when we first met, though he doesn't remember. the entire time i was in HYDRA, he was under their control. we were mission partners, as our skills were relatively evenly matched. i decided enough was enough after a short time in HYDRA and tried to convince him to escape with me. he refused. i thought i'd never see him again... until 2016, when steve brought him to my doorstep, beaten and bruised, and begged me to keep him safe.

⭑ soulmates

⭑ trauma-bonding

⭑ i fell first he fell harder

⭑ secretly dating (until we're not)

#002 . . . CHARLES LECLERC . . . formula one, singer, modern!royalty, young parent

ferrari's golden boy. number sixteen, the prince of monaco. oh, how i love him.

in my formula one reality, charles and i met when i was in formula three, as we were in the same circles. we became friends, but since he was at a higher level than me at that time we weren't too close. until formula one, where i became his teammate in Alfa Romeo. that's when we really became close, but still, nothing happened. not until a few years later.

⭑ soulmates

⭑ slow burn

⭑ teammates to rivals to lovers

⭑ friends to lovers

in my singer reality, we met when we were teenagers. i was just another fan, coming to get a photo and an autograph. however in 2021, at the silverstone grand prix, we meet again. he remembered me. we became friends, but both of us were in relationships at that point in time. around 2023 we became closer, and now that we were both single we decided to date—casually, that is. but neither of us had ever been very good at casual, so of course that quickly turned into something serious.

⭑ soulmates

⭑ slow burn

⭑ friends to lovers

in my modern!royalty reality, he's the prince of monaco. a childhood friend i grew up with, playing chess and riding horses and doing what princes do, i suppose. i fell in love with him when we were children, and over time that romance just grew. in our 20s, we met marlene, and that's when the beginning of our happy ever after began.

⭑ soulmates

⭑ childhood friends to lovers

⭑ he's 1/3 of the throuple

in my young parent reality, he's the sweet (and lowkey rich) guy i meet at a coffeeshop. he's the one who didn't let me give him bullshit excuses when i was worried he wouldn't want to be with me because i'm a parent. he's the one who stepped up to be a second parent to my child, even though he had no obligation to. he's the one who stayed.

⭑ soulmates

⭑ friends to lovers

⭑ vaguely second chance

in my figure skater reality, he's my second chance. not second chance as in second chance romance, as in we tried and failed and tried again—but as in he became my second chance at... everything. after the fall, he was the one who persuaded me to get back into skating. he was the one who found me at my darkest, and said, "okay. i'm in." even when i tried so hard to push him away.

⭑ soulmates

⭑ frenemies to lovers

⭑ he saved me

#003 . . . BILLIE EILISH // MARLENE SCHUYLER // MARLENE ADAMARIS // MARLENE O'CONNELL . . . hamilton, fantasy!royalty, modern!royalty, pirate

yes she has like a million names because i'm with her in so many different realities.

in my hamilton reality, she's marlene schuyler. the middle schuyler sister—also known as the rebellious one. the snarky one, the sarcastic one. our eyes meet across a crowded ballroom and i'd like to tell you that was the beginning of our happy ending, but of course we had to be complicated and snarky to each other for a while before realizing we were actually in love with each other.

⭑ soulmates

⭑ frenemies to lovers

⭑ he fell first, she fell harder

in my fantasy!royalty reality, she's marlene adamaris, the crown princess of adamaris (the water kingdom). blessed with the powers of a siren and the beauty that makes men jump overboard, she very quickly consumed my every waking thought.

⭑ soulmates

⭑ forbidden romance

⭑ forced proximity (?)

in my modern!royalty reality, she's the american girl i fall in love with. a singer, a model, and somehow on her way to become married into italian royalty. my favorite girl, my only girl, spoiled absolutely rotten by me (and our boyfriend charles).

⭑ soulmates

⭑ she's the other 1/3 of the throuple

⭑ secretly dating (until we're not)

in my pirate reality, she's the princess of england whom my crew happened to kidnap. yes this is literally what happens in pirates of the caribbean except i'm will turner and jack sparrow all in one and i've got my own crew and she's my (kidnapped) princess who just so happens to like being on the open sea.

disclaimer i did bring her back to the shore when my crew showed up with her. this is not stockholm syndrome and we do not condone kidnapping in this household!! turns out she'd been looking for a way out of the marriage her father was trying to arrange!!

⭑ soulmates

⭑ forced proximity (it's literally a boat there is no space)

⭑ forbidden romance (but who gives a fuck what her father thinks)

[gigiswhore]

↳ lipgloss || op luffy fic

╴ sucking luffy’s cock with your favorite plumping lipgloss is something you’ve always wanted to try, thankfully he gave you that opportunity by misbehaving.

╴word count: 1.7k

╴pairing/dynamic: top!reader , bottom!luffy

╴content warning: smut like barely any plot, female prns, made with afab body in mind, use of mommy, cussing, handjob, blowjob, degrading/praising, body worship (kinda?), bondage (handcuffs), btw this is a punishment for luffy

╴ib: @tinfairies (this one) <3

╴a/n: english isn’t my first language so if there’s grammar errors i apologize. literally hated my luffy fic so have this one as an apology 😭. enjoy!!

↳ LUFFY

"Say it, Luffy, say what you did wrong." You say this as you run your fingers slowly and lightly down his cock, making sure he knows this is his punishment. "nothing!" Luffy whispered; he knew what he did was wrong, but he refused to say it out loud.

"Hmm, are you sure?" You look at him slightly with a smirk on your face, completely stopping your movements and causing Luffy to whine. "Mommy, stop, tying me up is one thing, but not touching me is pure torture." He mumbles, exaggerating about the cuffs around his wrists. "If you want mommy to touch you so badly, you gotta tell me what you did wrong." You say with a snicker, after all, your poor baby is so needy for you. "Fine." Luffy stops for a moment before continuing, "I touched myself without your permission."

"That’s a good boy for telling mommy. Do you want your prize now?" You tweak your head to the side with a small smile on your face. "yes.. mommy! Want a treat." After hearing Luffy’s cute way of asking for a treat, you finally decided to give him it.

You start by taking your fingers once more and trailing them up and down his cock. You continue this for a few more minutes, watching how your finger tips softly pleasure Luffy’s cock. At the same time, you’re making sure every part of his body gets the same amount of treatment.

When you finally stop to look at Luffy, you notice his eyes rolled back, loving how you’re treating him.

At this point in time, Luffy's cock is just dripping with cumin. You smile, lifting one hand up to touch it. You slowly take your fingertips and trace it around the head of his penis, spreading his cum across it. just how you like it, but your focus was suddenly interrupted by Luffy’s plea, "Mommy.. f-f-fuck! Please, hurry."

This only caused you to smirk. "Mommy doesn’t take orders from someone who was being a naughty slut. Maybe next time you’ll listen." Luffy's face soon became red; he was flustered by your words. He knew you were being serious; if he decided to talk back, he wouldn’t get what he wanted the most, so he shut up.

At the sight of him becoming red, you finally decided to take things up a notch. Maybe it was because of his plea after all, but you’d never let him know that. In all honesty, you liked seeing him like this.

You start by fully grasping his shaft with both of your hands, making sure you are close to his balls while your index finger is at his tip. You then decided to start stroking him up and down while using your thumb to pleasure the top of his dick. "Mommy, too good! k-keep…goin’ please!" He moans as he feels your pace fasten.

He loves your attention and how you pay attention to every single one of his needs. "Kay’ baby, I'll keep going; just remember, I won’t stop till I want to." You chuckle, fastening your pace once again, while making sure the most sensitive spots of his are treated with the utmost care.

"M-mm! go-gonna.. cum," he says with a bit of a struggle to get the proper words out. "My little slut is already about to cum? I haven’t gotten to the best part yet! I still have to play with your pretty balls so I can watch you whine and cry for more." You say it with a teasing tone, waiting for a response, and the one you got made you feel so good. "Yes, mommy," at the sound of the affirmation, you decided it’s time for you to get to your favorite part.

You take one of your moving hands off his shaft and go straight to his balls. Once your hand reached it, you decided to gently fondle them; grabbing, releasing, and rubbing were how you did it consistently over the past few minutes, making sure to alternate between each ball. "f-fuck mommy. wanna.. cum! please mommy." Luffy mewled almost high off this pleasure especially from the way your hand was going up and down his shaft, along with the way you treated his balls. He couldn’t take it much longer; I mean he was a shaking mess.

His wrists were shaking so much that you could hear the sound of metal cuffs bouncing off the walls. You couldn’t help but notice all these tiny things and want to give him the opportunity to release them, and so you did. "Kay’ baby, cum for mommy." You lean into him and whisper that into his ear, making sure he knows he has your permission, and before you know it, he’s cummimg everywhere.

"That’s a good boy. Mommy’s so proud of you; just seeing your wrists tied up with cum all over your stomach makes me excited for what I’m gonna do next. I mean my baby has such a pretty body that I’m sure he can handle it well!"and once again, Luffy groaned as the praises went to his head. And that’s when you knew it was time for his actual punishment.

You spread his legs and stare, looking at how hard he is once again from you just forcing him to do what you wanted. "Be a good slut and stay still for me, okay? going to make you feel something you never have before." You gave him a small smile while watching as he nodded.

Now is the chance. You started by giving kisses to his dick, making sure your favorite pumping lipgloss made contact with him.

This caused him to mumble in pleasure, and his brain turned into mush because of the sensation. "More, more, wan’… more." is the only thing Luffy could manage to mumble as you leaned minutely forward, giving him small kittenish licks to his tip.

While you were doing that, he continued to release more precum, which you decided to treat yourself to too. To you, his salty-flavored precum was a treat—you got to taste his own distinct flavor, and it was one he’d only share with you.

"Keep going, mommy," he panted, gasping when you finally pressed the tip of your tongue into his sensitive nerves that surrounded his crown.

“Mmmm, v-very good.” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. The beautiful boy above you was praising you for pleasing him correctly.

Finally picking up the speed, you flicked your tongue across his slit before sliding it between your lips, taking him into your mouth. Once again, the lipgloss makes a stinging sensation. The dark-haired boy moaned softly when you sucked at it as your thumb stroked the side of Luffy’s cock.

Your mouth was perfect; everything about how you gave him a blowjob was just too good to be true. "Mo-mommy, Oh, fuck! Wait a minute—st-stop!" Luffed yelled, trying to get the cuffs on his wrists so he could throat-fuck you.

The reason for this was because you had taken him deeper in your mouth and hollowed his cheeks; the suction he felt made him feel crazy.

At the word stop, you did, but not for long. You decided to backtrack by running your tongue over the head again and again, memorizing how Luffy’s voice would hitch every time.

"gon…mmm…go-gonna cum!" Luffy said once again, and at the sound of that, you just hummed, causing him to throw his head back in pleasure.

You weren’t done yet, though. You decided to feel his throat, hallowing out your mouth as you went up and down, causing him to shake.

From that, you knew he was going to cum at any second. Slowly taking his dick out of your mouth, you stuck your mouth open and your tongue out, slowly putting your hands on Luffy's dick, moving up and down.

That was all it took for Luffy to cum—you caught the first droplets of cum. You then stroked him faster, causing him to gasp as another wave of cum splattered across your face and directly into your mouth.

"Sorry, mommy..." was the only words that came out of his mouth because all the other sounds were just moaning.

You swallowed his seed and just smiled, "Nothing to be sorry about, baby. Just make sure not to touch yourself again without my permission" you reminded him just as you were taking off the cuffs.

© gigislesbo on tumblr !!

╴a/n: tumblr kept crashing so like it’s completely different from my actual draft so this is ass but whatever enjoy ig.

[elliespotion]

Reckless Driving

cw// drug use, manipulation

ib: reckless driving by lizzy mcalpine

Ellie wants to use one of your old songs you had written and released before she begged you to join the band. Little does she know the deeper meaning behind it.

You and Ellie were just getting done with an insane rehearsal. Dina and Jesse were fighting the whole entire practice about God knows what this time.

Ellie plopped down next to you, guitar still in hand. “So… that was intense.” She says as she starts playing soft, familiar chords. Chords that honestly feel like they have been just buried inside of you, but why can’t you remember the song?

Suddenly Ellie breaks you out of your thoughts. “Hello? Did you hear anything I just said?” She says in an almost annoyed tone, but let’s be real, she could never be upset with you. “Hm?” You mumble out. “I said could we play ‘Reckless Driving’ at our next show?” She says slowly.

That’s why the chords sounded so oddly familiar…

i didn’t mean to kiss you

i mean i did but i didn’t think it’d go this far

“No.” You say softly and stand up but your legs feel like jelly, leaving you to just fall back on the couch. Ellie can’t help but raise an eyebrow at your reply. “No? What do you mean no? It’s a great son-“ “Ellie please leave it alone.” You say, almost yelling.

Now we’re going one hundred, your hands aren’t on the wheel.

cause you’re staring at me like you’re not convinced that I am real.

And now we’re at one eighty, and I can finally see

But then it’s over in a second, crashed the car into a tree.

Such beautiful words and a beautiful melody to people who didn’t know it was about your toxic, substance addicted ex girlfriend, Maya.

While Maya used to be one of the best people in your life she suddenly became one of the worst. You had a hard time maintaining your relationship since Maya decided she wanted to move to Los Angeles to ‘follow her dreams.’ She begged you to with her but you were content where you were. You knew it wouldn’t be long before she came back. Maya was a lot of things but it definitely wasn’t a person who would actually stay and fight for what she wanted. She got denied one role she really wanted and suddenly she went into a spiral.

Would she tell you of all people that? Of course not, she wanted to ‘protect you.’ There were obviously the daily phone calls, texts, and facetimes occasionally when she wasn’t ‘busy’ but as soon as things fell through for her you wouldn’t end up hearing from her for days on end.

you

hey babe

it’s been a few days, hope things are alright.

hello? maya? did your phone break?

please call me

maya

hey

just needed a break lol. you’re not my mom so stop acting like it.

sorry babe i didn’t mean it, i was drunk.

baby?

You didn’t talk for weeks until you saw pictures all over Mayas social medias, drinks and drugs covered most of her instagram stories.

She came home a week later, unrecognizable. Basically all bones at this point, dark purple eye bags.

You weren’t phased, you knew. You knew and she didn’t bother to tell you.

You got on your knees and begged her to get some help. If not for herself then at least for you, for your relationship. And sure, things were going fine for a month. She wasn’t using and she seemed happier, maybe even happier than she’s ever been. Until one night you get up to get a glass of water and Maya is no where to be seen. You look outside to see Maya and her friend using things you don’t wanna even speak of.

Do you tell her you saw it? Of course not. But does it hurt your relationship. Definitely. It’s almost like Maya has rose color glasses on. If you get into a fight, she doesn’t remember it. If she did then she was entirely in the right.

One night it became too much and everything boiled over.

“You think I didn’t see you a month ago outside with Caroline using? What is it now Maya? What hardcore drugs are you using now? Because you can’t cope that you didn’t get one role because you only spent your time in LA partying?”

Your words felt and tasted like fire.

“You have no idea what you’re even talking about! You-“ She put a hand to her head. “See you’re acting crazy again! Why don’t you just see it from my view? I’m sure if you went to LA your already failing music career wouldn’t go anywhere either.”

Her words hit like bricks. That was the last fight you had before everything fell apart. You packed your bags and decided you were moving to a different state, a different town. Anywhere to get away from all of this.

“Please don’t leave me! I promise I’ll change, I’ll be better. Give me a chance!” Maya screamed and begged at your knees.

Don’t wanna scrape you off the pavement

I can’t be your savior

I don’t wanna be here when you lose control

You pushed her off of you and eventually left.

I don’t love you like that

You’re a reckless driver

And one day it’ll kill us if I don’t let-

Sorry if this wasn’t great, this song has been stuck in my head for days. Debating on making a part 2 but i’m not sure!

[qvrcll]

fluff, mention of alcohol + ib @sourcherryandsprinkles (check out their fic 🫶🏽)

coriolanus snow feels the sweltering heat of the hob reach up to him. he’s barely made it in two steps past the entrance, when sejanus takes off to a darker part of the activities. snow swivels his head, taking a mental note of where sejanus perches himself against a bar, but chooses against joining him.

no, he would much rather lie back here, where the music could reach him just fine. like waves.

he picks up a glass that seems full enough to the eye: the liquid swishes violently when he shoots it down his mouth and he needs a minute to savour the taste. he’s not inclined to remembering much of the academy here, choosing to focus on only getting out, but something feels familiar. an act he is piecing together carefully, meticulously, as bodies rush past him to join onto the dance floor. he feels himself already getting light with the facade he’s wringing raw. bloody, even, between his fingers.

would they believe him? would they let him go home? let him see trigris and grand’maam one more time? would a class act ever profess to the same standards twice?

amongst his own, rotting worries, is when he sees you. not much quieter than the covey band on stage, not much louder than the crowd that followed - no, he could have lost you easily to the ruffles and the swills and the laughter. a mere stranger, much too adjusted with her tongue. but he’s curious as you approach his table.

“hi, boys. what can i get you for today?” you click your tongue, inserting a pen between your fingers and jotting down what the other men present as options of drinks. he tries to focus, clears his throat and nods along some common choice of beverage and ah, there’s polish on your nails. scarlet and running dark, a noteworthy shade amongst that of other district folk. were you like lucy gray, a performer? or were you much like what he ran from, a class act?

but he’s far too taken to knowing who exactly you are when he sees you cut a smirk in his direction. it’s subtle and over in quick succession, but it makes him oddly glad for the shift.

“what?” he asks with a charm rebuilt, barely concealed fortitude crumbling when you play with your notepad. the edges of the papers you taunt with your fingernail are frayed and tearing slightly, but you still work a quick smile that sets his alarms and worries for the brighter horizon that will surely come tomorrow. really, your pretty face has him forgetting all of the quells for a minute and, instead, scope out what exactly you want from him.

you shift your garments about, meeting his eye with some supposed challenge, “haven’t seen someone like you around these parts of the district. you new?”

he nods, “yeah, i’m… new to this peacekeeper business.”

“you been to the hob before?”

“no… not exactly, no.”

“not exactly?”

he plays with his fingers, itching the skin softly, “just heard a lot about this place. it’s nice.”

“more than nice, just you see,” your pen clips to the notepad and you hark a smile at him, working your way around the men and onto the next table. your eyes beat with a play he isn’t familiar with, one that makes him follow you with his eyes alone, “you have a good time now, mr. peacekeeper.”

“it’s snow. coriolanus snow.”

“coriolanus,” you seem to taste the name beneath your teeth, testing it tolerably and nicely, “has a nice ring to it.”

it’s the rest of the sickly sweet night that he’s thinking of you. you’ve got a sweet demeanour, a smart mouth - something worth thinking about over a drink. the hob is not quiet but not bustling either, with patrons filtering out one after another. some drunk, warm faces sit still at tables, some dance to a slow rhythm up front. sejanus leaves for a while, but snow leaves it as unnoticed. what he does notice is you in his peripheral.

you’re wiping tables, which strikes him suddenly as odd. odd that he still has the chance to catch you whilst you’re on hours. surely, you still remember him? he’d told you his name, but never breathed so much as yours. would you be freaked by his interference?

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” your voice is suddenly closer. you’d crossed across the bar whilst he was meandering between freakish and urbanity, and now stood smiling at him, a rag clutched at the hip. he swears his breath catches against a row in his throat, but snow catches himself quickly.

“me? must’ve overestimated my ability to drink,” he smiles, genuine since his days of relegation and spite, missing and borrowing, “are you still working?”

“hm, but i got a few minutes on the clock. then, i’m free as a bird” when he hears you say this, his ears redden with attention. you’d be off in a few minutes?

“why, you wanna take me on a date?” you ask. and he spirals. and you let out a bark as he goes red from head to feet, his fingers itching his temple as he smiles. all polite and bucking at the seams, “i’m only joking, coriolanus. coriolanus - did i say it right?”

he finds your chatter endearing, meaning in every bit of movement between the two of you, “you say it just perfect.”

he could’ve sworn he saw a flush work up those cheeks of yours, but then again, he could be losing more than just his mind. some level of sensibility, too, maybe. still, he rises to a level of action he has never been since the poor tributes, the days of reaping - maybe its initiative. maybe its the want. maybe its you between his fingers like gold.

he licks his lips, feels the wet of them against each other, “can you i have a drink? two, actually.”

“two? the other…?”

he smiles, tries to imitate your sweetness and only lets it come off half baked, “for you.”

but really, he couldn’t care less. the smile that tears across your face is warm, your laugh hearty.

“mr. snow, you’ve got your tricks,” the smile spills into your words, he can hear it, “well, i’ve got mine.”

and he needs to ask, what are they? can i see? am i allowed? when you kiss his cheek. nothing vehement or raunchy in the least, a thing recounted as a peck, but as you swivel towards the bar in a confident front-step, snow touches the warm part of his cheek like he’d been burnt. like he was burning still, under the pustule of the soft, flaxen light the hob had to offer. burning still, when he smiles under his hand, grinning under the gap of his fingers.

burning, still, in the grasp of wanting you beneath two drinks and a kiss.

(requests for snow / tbosas are open!)

© 2023 qvrcll. do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[tojivu]

love, kisses & croissants ⋆ naoya zenin

an. naoya you've infiltrated my brain.... ib the song where the lyrics go "i love you i love you i love you"

cw. sfw. naoya is kind of an asshole. gn!reader, but not proofread so please lmk any gender references if i made any.

playing. because she goes by the 1975.

naoya zenin would press kisses onto the soft, supple skin of your cheek as soon as he wakes. no good morning, no stretch — he reaches and bends from where he is to let his lips latch onto you.

two kisses later and he's finally greeting you, whether you're awake or not.

"morning." his voice is raspy, throat dry from the cold air of the bedroom you two shared. he brings his fingers to brush the stray hairs away from your face.

how naoya loves your expression when you sleep: an overwhelming need to hold and kiss you, make you feel as comfortable as possible so you can continue your slumber — how he finds you prettiest when you're unaware of it.

your eyelids flutter as the sunlight seeping in through the curtains sting; a long exhale leaves your lungs and you find yourself inching closer to naoya — who was warm amidst the temperature of the room.

he lays face up, shirt nowhere to be found (as usual). your husband was always one to show off even when sleeping — you're able to feel his skin graze your fingertips, some spots more prominent than others due to scarring: you've memorised the position of each and every one of them on his body.

"morning, naoya." you smile lazily at the man under your touch. he doesn't smile back, but you think the way his arm pulls you closer says everything his face doesn't.

naoya zenin was a puzzle, most days — it took you a long time before you could even touch him without earning a complaint or an irritated expression.

"stop touching me." a grunt and an eye roll, every single time.

it was the night after your wedding. you remember it vividly, the order of events engrained into your mind and heart. you never want to forget the hour that naoya let you love him.

it wasn't much, and you think if you told anyone that they might laugh in your face: most couples would scoff and say that the first kiss should have happened long before the knot was tied.

you think you would've gone the whole marriage without any touching. before the ceremony, naoya would only let you hold his hands or fix his tie — mundane things that held no passion — or maybe very little, not enough to remind you both you were to be married.

it was naoya who pulled you in that night, hands on your hips as he pressed his lips onto yours. it's inexperienced, and you want to giggle but you know you can't (due to the crowd and family attending the ceremony). it would be much too embarrassing for your husband.

when he pulls away, his lips are glossy and his eyes are enlarged — as if he's never experienced this feeling before.

it's just then that naoya zenin realises he loves kissing you. the feeling of your lips so close to his skin, the feeling of laying on clouds when he tastes your favourite lip balm. the feeling of you.

he felt embarrassed that his clan witnessed such a thing. naoya's weak in the knees in front of you, someone who was nowhere near his power or authority. he finds it annoying just how much control you have over him, but he thinks it's okay — for now — as long as you don't betray him.

he hopes you don't.

naoya doesn't bother saying a word in the morning, only kissing you where he feels you need to be — your forehead, wrist, cheek, lips, jaw, neck.

the small discovery he made on the night you two got married had his mornings set for life: a kiss as soon as he woke, a gentle 'morning' followed by another kiss. he's hooked.

sometimes he returns all bloodied from brawls: wounded but still the victor, dragging himself into the home he shares with you (and the servants he keeps around) — naoya appreciates your warm embrace and the soft kisses you pepper on his face. you complain about how he smells like metal, but you hold him anyway.

"[name]," naoya snaps you out of your reminiscing-like daydream. "we should go out for breakfast today."

you roll your eyes at the fact that this is what your husband stopped your trip down memory lane for.

"we have chefs for a reason, naoya." you remind him, as if he doesn't know that already — he orders them around almost all the time, mostly due to your random cravings.

"i know."

"then?" you ask, "i thought you hated being around random people."

"i don't like being around lowlives," he clarifies. "but we could spend some time together. if you want."

"if i want?" you giggle, poking at his cheeks. this would've gotten you killed if you were with the naoya you knew all those years ago. "i didn't know you cared about what i want."

"don't act like that." naoya's grip around your waist tightens, your stomach pressing against the side of his abdomen. "just say yes or no. i'm a very busy man."

"are you making space for me in your tight schedule, busy naoya?" you tease. his ears burn a bright shade of red, and he tuts. "i'm feeling really special. you're so good to me."

"cause you are," naoya admits. how vulnerable he seemed that it made him feel like throwing up. "[name]."

naoya zenin was a puzzle, yes, but you think he's gotten easier to solve by now. a kiss and some praise and he's all set, sarcastic or not — whatever you say has him weak in the knees. it's almost scary how much power you hold.

"i love you, my busy man," your hands cup his cheeks and turn his head towards you, and you press a quick kiss onto his lips. "i'm thinking about croissants."

you earn a flustered naoya, cheeks reddened and eyebrows furrowed to hide his crystal clear expression. he was starting to feel his heart pound.

"we can get croissants. i know a good place."

"it's probably expensive, then." you roll your eyes.

"who do you think i am?"

"my dearest husband." you flirt. it hurts to be so cheesy this early in the morning, but you think it's okay because it's got naoya blushing like a tomato.

he doesn't say anything. naoya is fighting the deafening sound of his heartbeat in his ears and the electricity he feels flowing through his veins, along with the smile creeping up on his face.

"i love you," he replies a minute later.

"i never knew you were a romantic, naoya."

"i love you," he repeats, as if you're losing your hearing. "i love you."

the words flow like water. it's a disgusting phrase he never thought he'd utter, but here he is — repeating it like a prayer to you.

"i heard you the first time." you giggle again, running your fingers through his hair. "loud and clear."

"i love you, [name]," he mumbles as his eyes get gentler by the second, his gaze softening the more you play with his locks. he thinks he'll fall back asleep any moment now. "i love you so much."

"i know, naoya," you assure him, head drawing closer to his to peck his forehead. "and i love you more."

"you can beat me in very little things, [name]." naoya replies, eyes blinking slowly at yours. "this isn't included."

"i beat you at wii that one time. you're terrible at wii golf."

"i play real golf," he scoffs. "not in some video game for children. it's harder in real life."

"such a sore loser."

you suppose you're a sore loser, too. you'd never be able to beat him at the 'i love you' game — he'd never let you — but that didn't mean you couldn't try.

you've got plenty of time, anyway.

041223 — Bue i'm gonna cry this is so ?!??? idk what this even IS

[lothepoorpeacock]

Just sharing two of my most favourite songs, that echoes... Banana fish ofc 🫠... In a way this song reminds me of Ash for some reason, (as if this is what plays in his head- whenever he mentions/remembers about his mother within manga)... His unresolved feelings, answers he gives to his younger self at times...perhaps... with whatever time he sought in respite of visiting the library, when he indeed seems calm but is so alone? (Especially towards the last lines of the song.. I can't get this off my head)

And the lyrics of this song somewhere oddly echoes Eiji's pov/inner conflicts to me, particularly from "fly boy in the sky".. I mean that period in itself has so many meanings and layers yet could be talked about Eiji's life back in Japan, (which ofc has it's dark sides)..but even that being said, a particular conversation stayed with me, where Eiji was told by Ibe while his train was getting departed to "be more proud of himself", provided whatever Eiji was going through back home and how he was loosing his confidence with pole vaulting, but that Eiji, up in air, was Ibe's first big breakthrough in a way... Also how Ibe mentioned Eiji coming to America was indeed a "emergency evacuation".. So the unsaid thoughts Eiji might've had during that period, is also I strongly find connotations with..

[oopsiedaisydeer]

almostlove!au headcanons - part two ...with sexhotline!reader and goldenboy!chris

fluff, light angst, smut, mentions of masturbation, fantasies, anonymous relationship

ib: the ever so lovely headcanons by @kiemiu !!! also a quick note!! these are set in the future, after daisy and chris finally meet :)

word count - 500ish

goldenboy!chris who keeps her voicemail from the night before they met saved in his notes app. it plays like a prophecy. she said, “don’t be nervous, golden boy. i already like you.” and he listens to it when he forgets how to breathe.

goldenboy!chris who still calls her every night, even though she’s in the next room. “go to sleep, daisy,” he mumbles. “i’ll be there in a sec.” but he stays on the line until she dozes off, just to hear her sigh.

goldenboy!chris who records the moment she walks into that café for the first time. her laugh, her voice, the way she says his name like she’s tasting it. he replays it every time she leaves the house without him.

goldenboy!chris who leaves her voice notes just to say “i missed you today,” even if they spent all day together. because she smiled at a stranger and he got jealous. because she looked at the sky and forgot to look at him. because missing her is just part of loving her now.

sexhotline!reader who still calls him “sun” when he’s sad. only now, she gets to kiss his hair and hold his hand when she says it.

sexhotline!reader who leaves messages like: “you forgot your charger, dummy. it’s on the nightstand. come home soon. i made pasta.” and his stomach flips because home is a word he only just started believing in.

goldenboy!chris who moans her name into her voicemail just to see if she’ll bring it up later. “you left me alone, daisy,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “how am i supposed to sleep without you wrapped around me?”

goldenboy!chris who sends her messages in the morning that start sweet and end filthy. “you looked so pretty sleeping beside me,” he says. “i wanted to wake you up with my mouth. tomorrow maybe.”

sexhotline!reader who teases him over audio, whispering: “remember the way you sounded last night? i do.” then plays a clip of him groaning into her shoulder, saying her name like a prayer.

sexhotline!reader who leaves him a message right after they’ve hooked up, while he’s in the shower. still breathless. still warm. “you ruined me,” she says. “do it again.”

sexhotline!reader who moans into the mic when she’s on her period just to torment him. “hurts,” she pouts. “but maybe you could make me feel better, baby. with your mouth. your fingers. anything.”

goldenboy!chris who still sends her audio files of him jerking off when she’s out of town visiting her family. he pants her name like it’ll summon her. begs her to come back. whines, “daisy, please,” like he might fall apart without her.

sexhotline!reader who once left him a two-minute recording of her moaning into his pillow while wearing nothing but his hoodie. he didn’t speak to anyone all day. just replayed it. hand between his legs. lips parted. ruined.

goldenboy!chris who cries a little the first time she rides him and says “i missed your voice.” because now he doesn’t have to imagine it. now he gets everything. the sounds. the touch. the fucking realness of her.

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws ꨄ

a/n: here they are 😇 ik no one asked but um! idc! have more hcs :p

thank you so much for reading!! likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated :)

[fizzysodasocarbonated]

what happens to mitchie during the events of the outsiders?

sometimes i forget that people can actuslly be interested ib my ocs and like want to know about them

also!!! while i recount whats happening!!! keep in mind the outsiders canon for me is a jumble of book movie musical snd play. i like icang remember what happened in each indiviual one theyre all just one big story to me— so if theres details that arent in one media, thats why LOL

well!!!! i think that, while johnny and mitchie are pretty often together, mitchie finds more solace and comfort in dchool than johnny— which means she ends up going a lot more. so, a lot of the time, while pony and johnny are hanging out, shes keeping herself busy with homework, piano, ect

so, the night when they went to the drive in, she opted for staying over at the curtis’ house to do her homework. (she likes their house quite a bit more than her own for clear reasons)

she was just like. okay yeah ill wait for johnny to get back with pony n two nd well walk home together. but as it grew later and later into the night, and she saw darry getting mote skittish, she was like. oh. maybe i should just walk home mysrlf

but darry was like no fucking way!!! its midnight and you are going to get jumped if you walk home alone!!! go sleep in my room or smth

and so she did!!! and she slept soundly!!! and woke up in the morning to a distressed sodapop and a clearly still-awake-from-last-night darry!!! and shes like okay erm whats up guys?? and darry goes ponyboy and johnny ran away. snd shes like HUH??? WHAT?????

she lowk dumbfounded. even when he explains, she isnf mad, shes just so. in shock. through everything, she is just dumbfounded and surprised and unable to comprehend what happened.

she gets called in for an interrogation for bob’s death? barely says anything. quiet as a mouth, refuses to give them anything. doesnt go to school, barely plays the piano, just a state of autopilot

but when she sees her brother’s face in the paper, she is filled with this senss of pride and just. relief. but man, that relief leaves her the second she reads further

i dont think she leavs johnny’s side until he dies. and even then, she had to basicslly be dragged out of that room once he did

afterward, she basically just shut down. stopped going to the curtis’ house or school, barely left her (and previously johnny’s) room, and just wallowed in her emotions.

basically her story during the book!!! ifs a little late sorry if this doesnt make sense i am NOT reading this over

[svt-nari]

late night walks !

a/n: i’m sorry for this, it’s not my best work and it’s not proofread. i will do my best to write better things, i promise i’m not always that bad 🙏🏼 also, the time period is april 2023.

ib: this cheol’s instagram post (20230408)

“come on, cheollie!”, nari whined while tugging on his sleeve. “instead of going to the cafe, we could actually go take kkuma on a walk.. what do you think?”, she asked hopefully, putting on her best puppy eyes.

“aren’t you worried about people finding out it’s us? i don’t want to have pictures taken of us during our dat if you’re not okay with it.”, he turned to her. “if you are okay with it, then let’s go.”

she chuckled, kissing his cheek. “are you kidding? i could give two fucks about people taking pictures of us, i want everyone to know about us. i love you, you know that.”, nari smiled while holding his hand, the other one gripping the dog’s leash.

seungcheol then shrugged and held her hand, giving her cheek a quick peck and started to walk. the couple went to a park so they could play with kkuma, the genuine smile of adoration on cheol’s eyes as he watched nari play with his dog was enough for everyone to know how whipped he was for the girl.

“c’mon, go get the ball!”, she enthusiastically exclaimed, pointing towards it while the dog ran to get the toy. “good girl! aigoo, you’re so cute kkuma!”, nari giggled as the dog kept on licking her face.

“darling, be careful!”, coups exclaimed as nari started to run after his dog, her shoe ties unlaced. “you’re going to trip- aigoo! are you okay?”, he ran after her, getting on his knees to see if she was injured. even kkuma stopped to see what happened, licking the girl’s hand that she was clutching.

“i think my hand is hurt.”, she pouted, hugging it close to her.

“let me see…”, he mumbled out. a quiet wince left his lips when he saw her hand. “it’s not bad but it definitely needs to be cleaned up.”, he slightly kisses the scratched area. “let’s go home.”

“can we go walking? my house’s not that far and…”, she mischievously smiled. “seventeen street is on the way too!”

“i knew there was something else when you asked to go on a walk, you never walk.”, he chuckled, getting up and helping her too right after. “let’s go then.”

he took the dog’s leash and clicked it back in place, holding nari’s uninjured hand and started to walk. the couple was joking around the whole way, nari purposefully pushing him so he would trip and laughing whenever he almost fell. after a while, they finally got to nari’s destination.

“it looks so cute! let’s read the notes!”, she squaled. seungcheol thought it was a perfect opportunity to take pictures of the girl, she looked so focused and that beautiful glint was in her eyes just like whenever she met their fans. “woah, they really love us…”, she sniffled. “i remember when i was just a trainee and would see the other artists getting stuff like this and would get jealous and think that i wanted this for myself one day. now i can not even believe how many people actually appreciate our work…”

the leader smiled and hugged her waist, laying his head on her shoulder while he nodded. he left a peck on her neck and started to read with her, kkuma quietly laying down on their feet.

nari maneuvered herself out of cheol’s arms to keep looking while he was reading. after a while, when she saw how cute he looked, she took her phone out and snapped some pictures of her boyfriend. when he heard her giggle, coups immediately snapped his head towards her and glared playfully, a pout appearing right after.

“ya! let me see!”, he hugged her to look at the pictures, smiling when she praised how cute he looked all concentrated. “send them to me so i can post them.”

after that, they took some more pictures — mainly nari just admiring her boyfriend and the little things he does. some were practiced and others more spontaneous, nari liked those more, so she had her phone ready while they walked around the place. her wrist was long forgotten, all she could think about was this quiet and peaceful night she was having with her boyfriend.

“i like spending time with you.”, she suddenly stopped walking. “like, it’s my favorite time of the day when we have time just to ourselves. i can’t believe it took us so long to actually realize we were made for each other.”, the younger one mumbled out, head laying on his shoulder as she looked ahead.

“neither can i…”, he breathed out, content. “i love you, thanks for never giving up on us.”

“i love you too.”, she kissed his cheek. “ and thank you for never giving up on me.”

all rights reserved © svt-nari, 2023

[smokinsid]

Alright, alright, let's talk about SotO. Keep your chin up. This'll be long, but as fair as I can make it. It's not all negative, but it's not all positive either. My hope is to just be real about it. Feedback welcome. Blast me in reblogs if you don't agree, I'm genuinely eager for the conversation.

The kryptis are emotion. It stands to reason that this would be a story focused on emotion. How the commander feels about this or that. How the world reacts when you put your emotions into it. That's pretty cool, and after a decade of more and more personal-feeling dragonslaying, separating us from our friends in order to deep-dive into our Commander's own heart is a really cool move. I have to give credit to what was intended.

There's a sense the entire time of throttled execution that I want to talk about. The story is, at all times, not bold enough to deliver the emotional payload it wants. It's not big enough, bad enough- and it's not a question of stakes, either. I advocated for a lower-stakes jaunt into exciting but less apocalyptic territories at the end of EoD.

Eparch is not a threatening villain. The reveal that he lied about his army and manipulated the stakes was... contrary to what we saw in the map, in one hand- and in the other hand, a deception that undermined him as a threat right before approaching his throne.

I recall when he was first revealed wishing that he was just, physically bigger. Not like Cerus. Like Primordus. I wanted him to be speaking to us from that precipice at the arena and then suddenly loom into view, towering over the columns, taking up the horizon. If he's so full of the strength of others, let him grow huge from it, so I can feel the scope of what he's taken and feel small in his presence. I play Asura- at no point did I feel like I could not beat his skinny ass to a pulp with my own class abilities and absolutely no help.

His timer in the fight still running while he's in his Dipshit Cowardice Bubble did not impress me, and I still beat the clock with like 60% of the limit to spare.

He's weak, he's anonymous- he's revealed only to immediately clam back up in his tower while everyone else continues to just talk about him- and if I'm being perfectly honest, the best parallel for him is our old pal, Zhaitan.

Zhaitan loved to send bits of itself as far as it could reach, while the dragon itself remained in Arah. In some ways I liked that- it was the traditional dragon that hunted goats in the countryside and hoarded treasure, but with a necromancer's minion-mastery twist.

Now imagine falling short of Zhaitan, that much-reviled old lizard, in terms of story delivery. Sure, we fight Eparch toe to toe, but he's weak. If Lonely Tower had released at the beginning of SotO instead of now as a flashback, it might've helped us better understand and respect him as a threat, much like how we had the entire personal story past Claw Island to understand Zhaitan.

But we didn't. So to continue looking at this parallel, we see a relatively short, strained jaunt to Zhaitan, with a couple of hairpin turn deaths to sting us emotionally (they fall flat, alas), and suddenly a Big, Easy Fight against a Guy Who Sucks.

Do you remember the Asura woman in the personal story- if you let her spouse die, she never speaks to you again, even in later expansions? Remember Tybalt, Cieran, and Forgal? That stuff hurts good. This NPC won't talk to you because you let her down and broke her heart. These characters grew to love you in ways that, especially for the time, were uncommon for characters in MMOs. That's the kind of thing that this truncated expac didn't have time for.

And let's reflect on IBS while we're at it. I'm never going to stop laughing at it sharing an acronym with Irritable Bowel Syndrome, but it genuinely felt like the best they could do working in Bellevue, WA, in the midst of serious covid restrictions. They even went back and re-voiced a chapter that it wasn't safe to voice at the time, remember that? It spoke to an interest in doing their damnedest to deliver the best product they could. And it was good! The final fight couldn't be what they wanted it to be, and I'll always laugh at "so, this is Pact justice?" but it was compelling, at least.

We spend a lot of time in SotO standing still. Selecting a dialogue option and listening to NPCs read their lines. Now, I love Peitha and could listen to her talk all day, but so much of what you should know as the player in position of Wayfinder is stowed away in text-only books and collections. Maybe that's a budgetary constraint. Voice acting is expensive. I don't mind reading, personally- but I didn't, because I was already spending so much time standing around!

I'm not one of those people that thinks of my player character as a killing machine or some kind of mercenary being deployed by the higher echelons to do the practical job of killing a way to the boss. Sid is a radio DJ. Enid is a physicist. Rucks is a troubadour. These are conversational, curious characters who are absolutely invested in what's happening in the world around them.

But my tools as a player for engaging with that world are the ten buttons at the bottom of my screen. You have to challenge me to play the game using those buttons, in order to hook me in and invest me. Kick my ass! Make me fight back! That's part of a great story, and I play all three cruise control classes- Necro, Engi, and Warrior. I want you to make me break bars and use my control effects and feel like I'm under threat so that when I win, it feels like winning!

SotO taught my foul little chain-smoking radio gremlin how to dab. It let me unlock a skyscale the easy way. It made me feel gay things for a twelve foot tall woman made of meat and nightmares. For these things I'll always be grateful.

With strictly tertiary stakes- a secret war on the fringes of reality- expressed through random invasions not much different from the random invasions from Joko's boys, a pinched story with lots of standing around, and a truly pitiful, downright un-respectable asswipe of a villain that makes Zhaitan look like a properly-told story, I have to say that SotO only delivered on its emotional payload in the small places.

The relationships between members of the Ward. The way Peitha grows close to you and comes to rely on you so personally. The banter, more than the beats- and that's as much a problem as it is something to be proud of. Some games don't deliver on character personality. In World of Warcraft: Legion, you got Khadgar being smarmy and Illidan being awful and hilarious- but these are integrated into the most important story moments. When Illidan opens the way to Argus right in the middle of the fucking sky, he has the biggest shit-eating grin you've ever seen on his face, because he knows that it's funny. He knows that he just did the craziest shit that Khadgar's ever seen, and Khadgar's been dealing with demons since the Second War!

So why not have that in our cutscenes? Something as simple as coming to the throne room to threaten Eparch, and seeing Peitha curl her hand around your Wayfinder's shoulder. Isgarren is basically our Khadgar, and he's also a big piece of shit, and he gets some good lines reminiscent of "A Wizard appears exactly when he means to," but we can lean more into that- rather than ask everyone around us if Isgarren is coming, why not... have him fail us? Have him tell us that we can call on him, and then we do, and then have him tell us no.

It's not about how these characters harm and help each other, is what I'm driving at. It's how they harm us, on the other side of the computer screen. You, the player, should be provoked into an emotional response because it's motivating! And if you think being motivated isn't a big deal, I want you to consider that the thing that provokes Kryptis portals to higher intensities are items called motivations.

Arenanet has demonstrated a fluency in the language of emotion, and made a valiant attempt at getting inside our player character's heart. But my take is that in doing so, they left the actual player out of the equation.

I can read to my heart's content, and there's good stuff to read. But I can do that without the game, as everything's transcribed on the wiki. If you want me to be part of your world and tug at my heartstrings, you've gotta provoke me.

And if you can't do that with your main villain, you need a new main villain.

[purpleprincessonfyre]

Marvel AU - Monster (or coward?)

Timeline: During The Battle of New York, but what if Sylvie and Loki invaded New York together?

Characters: Liane Felton, Loki Laufeyson, Sylvie Laufeydottir

Features: Ethan Lensherr, Rochelle Romanoff-Felton and some characters from Liane's past

IB: Monster by Imagine Dragons, Avengers (2012)

'Ever since I could remember

Everything inside of me

Just wanted to fit in,'

"We need to get out of here, this building isn't stable!"

"Funny, I was about to say that about your mental state!" Ethan joked, holding back debris as Liane ran for safety. The battle of New York was raging as heroes ran left and right trying to get STARK staff members away from the tower in a hurry.

"You're cute. Come on, I don't wanna drag you out from underneath rubble."

"Go, I'll hold it off until everyone's safe."

Liane nodded and ran towards the exit but as she ran through what she thought was the door to outside she found herself inside a box that seemed to be made of pure gold. When she turned around the door was gone and she was entirely surrounded by walls of gold, from floor to ceiling. Liane growled, her fists balled as her anger rose.

'If I told you what I was

Would you turn your back on me?

And if I seem dangerous

Would you be scared?'

"Dammit Loki or whatever, let me out!"

A dry chuckle echoed through the hollow space, clearly enjoying this.

"My my, Miss Felton. You forget yourself. That's hardly the way a polite young lady would address her father..."

"What?"

Liane turned to follow the sound and saw her father before her, standing in her family home with her, her surroundings now resembling her family's dining hall. She knew it was magic but she could hear the ticking grandfather clock on the floor, she could feel the heat from the roaring fire, she could smell the sharp scent of the lillies on the dining table and the hairs on her neck stood straight up as she heard the unmistakable voice.

"Come on little lady, say you're sorry and give me a smile."

"I won't fall for your tricks! That's not my father!"

"How dare you, you insolent girl!" Her father snarled, leaning in to hit her, booze on his breath.

"I'm not scared of you, your stupid magic can't hurt me, you're gonna have to try harder than that if you want to hurt me, Dumb and Dumber."

'I get the feeling just because

Everything I touch isn't dark enough

That this problem lies in me.'

The image of her father melted away and suddenly she was in her childhood bedroom and the scent of nail polish hung in the air as someone approached her, someone looming over her by miles. Then she saw his eyes and his wicked grin and felt her heart race. It was Quentin. She felt so much younger in his gaze, so much smaller and so naive. It stung her eyes seeing him like that before her, as if she'd never even left.

"Little Sister...myself and the boys want to play a little game and we need a damsel in distress."

"You're a liar, you always were!"

"What? We simply want to rescue the pretty princess but you will have to get in the boat and let us tie you up. But don't worry! We'll rescue you. Eventually."

"Rot in hell, Quentin!"

"Have it your way..."

Liane's eyes stung with tears as her eyes changed colour.

"Stop it, stop it Quent!"

"Awwww baby's crying! Look at the baby crying!"

"YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH QUENTIN OR I WILL BURN YOUR STUPID HEAD!"

'Can I clear my conscience

If I'm different from the rest

Do I have to run and hide?'

The illusions faded as she was transported back into the box.

"Now there's the Felton I was told about..."

"You could do so much if you weren't so pathetic and predictable all the time..."

"Who ever heard of a hero that can burn you alive?"

"You can both shut up! I changed! But you...you never will."

"Shame. We were really getting somewhere for a minute there. Shall we?"

"Go on then."

The room melted away all over again and now Liane saw a place she'd tried to forget. A room she wished she'd never entered. Seeing a face she never wanted to see again. And hearing that voice that haunted her days and nights ever since she put him away.

'I never said that I want this

This burden came to me

And it's made it's home inside,'

"Guten tag, frauline...."

"Edmund..."

"Awww no pet name this time? Aw you are shaking like a leaf. Would you like my coat?"

"You stay away from me!"

"But why? You knew this was happening, und you never said no to it before. You befriended those girls, you bought them the drinks, you made them your friends all happy, and you let me take them away..."

"I was drunk! You always made sure of that, you filthy monster!"

"Nein! Nein, I am not the only monster here. You were, how you say, complicit in the crimes? You could have said no. You could have said you wanted no part in my plans. But you were just so desperate to be loved and adored that you turned a blind eye! All those innocent, naive girls! The blood of those girls is ON YOUR HANDS ALONE! You, are the true monster, Frauline."

'A monster, a monster

I've turned into a monster

A monster, a monster

And it keeps getting stronger.'

Every wall started to reflect just Liane's reflection back at her but each one was different. Her childhood, her teens, her eyes bright purple in all of them, each reflection whispering the same word over and over again as the word started to ring in her head like a death toll.

Monster.

Monster.

Monster!

"ENOUGH!" Liane screamed as the room was consumed by flames, the reflections all melting and the illusions shifting in a jarring fashion from Edmund Zola, to Quentin, to Milton and then back to Loki, who was grinning from ear to ear.

"We finally broke her...told you it was easy."

"You were right, turns out if one's heart is so blackened and bruised, then it won't be tricky to turn it darker."

"I'm not a monster!"

"Oh really? Monsters are born from anger, pain and hatred. Monsters act without thought. Monsters are ruthless. And what does that make you? A monster? Or a coward?"

"I'll take coward over monster any day, and for the record I was tricked!"

The two Lokis laughed, holding their stomachs as tears rolled down their cheeks as if Liane had just told the funniest joke.

"Were you now? So you lashing out at your father, was because of a trick?"

"You hurting your brothers, that was the fault of a trick?"

"You turning on Edmund and testifying against him, all because you were tricked? No my dear sweet monster, you knew exactly what you were doing. That rage, your fire, you deliberately took that rage and damaged them.

"Scarring your father's face, burning your brother's hair, and don't forget that scar running down Eddie's chest, right over his heart. That was all you. That was the monster. And it's getting stronger. But the longer you hide it with this...hero act? It'll get murderous. It will hurt people you care about. That boy you like? Your precious cousin? Your new friends who just started to trust you? They'll all be ashes on the ground. And you'll be painted as a villain. Just like us."

Loki and Sylvie approached, as Liane looked up at them, tears in her eyes as Loki grabbed her chin harshly.

"Shhhh it's alright little Mutant, it's very simple. Either wait until your actions destroy everyone you love, or give in to us and follow the future rulers of Asgard."

"We could make your our little princess. Put a pretty crown on your golden curls. Keep you in a lovely little box where you won't hurt anyone back on Asgard. And all you'll have to do is just prance about and play dress up, ride on your very own pegasus, we'll make you your own boyfriend or girlfriend to play with, all day long. Or....you and your precious little team die. Either by your hands, or ours. Your choice, Princess."

Liane looked around her and saw her team through the confines of the box she was trapped in. All of them fighting tooth and nail to take out aliens and get the people to safety. All things she would have scoffed at a year ago. She saw Ethan, doing everything he can to help the citizens get away. Rochelle, fighting aliens left and right even as she's injured. Her team doing whatever it takes to save the world. They were better off without her.

'I'm only a man with a candle to guide me

I'm taking a stand to escape what's inside me,'

Liane hung her head and looked up at the Lokis, resigned to her fate.

"Do what you like. But don't hurt my friends. Lock me up, tease me, play with me, whatever. But you don't touch them. Please." There was shame in her eyes but Liane had decided she was better off a coward than a monster. Loki nodded his approval.

"Glad you came to your senses, Little Princess. They didn't need you anyway. Sylvie?"

Sylvie wrapped chains around Liane's neck and wrists, leading her to a portal as a voice rang out, beyond the box, from the outside. Liane was barely paying attention when it hit her ears. And a smile spread on her face as it repeated. And she could see outside the box his big green eyes, his dark hair and the concern and worry in his face as he shouted across the battlefield. Ethan was calling to her.

"LIANE!"

"Silly boy, come on pet, we've built a cage just for you."

"Shame."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said, shame. Cause your pet just remembered what freedom tastes like!"

The entire box was set ablaze as Lianes eyes glowed, her chains sizzling to dust as she approached the two Mischief deities.

"Turns out I can be both. I can be the daughter of a sleazy businessman and a hero. The sister of a disgusting politician and an Avenger. The ex fiancée of the leader of HYDRA, and the girl about to kick. Your sorry. Asses!"

The box crumbled away to nothing as Liane approached the two co-conspirators with fury in her eyes, her fists aflame.

"You'd better keep fighting cause I'm gonna make damn sure you go back where you came from AND YOU NEVER COME BACK!" Liane roared as airborne fire seemed to burst from her lungs and out of her mouth, sitting the pair ablaze as they disappeared in a poof of magic.

As she managed to find her bearings a hand reached and squeezed hers tightly. It was Rochelle's, and her bright blue cousin was smiling.

"Let's end this fight."

"Together."

And the two fighting Feltons rushed back into the fray, a new sense of courage now fostered in Liane's bruised and blackened heart, slowly starting to rise to reflect on her face. Maybe the past wouldn't define her forever. And just maybe, she would get through this and move on. But not today. That battle was for another time, in another place. Probably in a doctors office somewhere. Monster, coward, hero was starting to sound pretty good from where Liane was standing.

Hope you enjoyed!

Tagging: @gcthvile @jackiequick @blueboirick @meiramel @cherrysft @askstevella @ask-missparker @ask-starrk @therealdaydreamstark @thechoooooosenone @wizzzardofoz @finlayholmes @ethan-lensherr @marvelsfavoriteuncle @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @missstrawbs2001