#apply-force-too-begin

[cloverapple]

How I Shift On Command + How You Can Too

I don’t plan on posting anything other than this or starting a blog, so I don’t need anyone to “believe” in me. The only person you should trust is yourself—trust yourself to resonate positively with what you see online and click away if it doesn’t serve you. This is here for you to take from if it resonates. I literally only made this blog to post this here. My hope is that it reaches at least one person who can take something from this and apply it to their shifting journey. If not, and this post ends up here untouched, I’m just glad to finally get everything down in words and off my chest. 

Jumping straight to the answer because I’m not going to make anyone sit through a long post for it. The rest, the "advice," is here if you want to read it.

The "method"

I figured out what works specifically for me as an individual instead of following everyone else’s journey. Everyone has their “thing” that makes shifting click, a sweet spot that makes reality shifting possible. For me, it’s a combination of the law of assumption and inducing an altered state of consciousness.

During the day, I spend time affirming—or sometimes just reminding myself or keeping a little note nearby—things like:

I can shift.

I know how to shift.

I could shift tonight.

Shifting is accessible to me.

At night, I watch videos, look at Pinterest boards, or listen to music that reminds me of my DR. This ingrains where I’m going in my brain. Sometimes I do this for fun, and other times I skip it entirely.

When I lay down, I always lie on my back and stay somewhat still because I like the feeling of my body going numb. This isn’t necessary to shift, but I enjoy it—it lets me feel the symptoms of hypnagogia (that in-between state of wakefulness and sleep).

To meditate quickly, I count from 1 to 100 with a few affirmations in between to remind myself of what I’m doing. I do this until my body goes numb, and I start messing up the counting. Usually, the mistakes or random, nonsensical thoughts are my signal to start shifting.

At this point, I begin affirming the things I affirmed during the day:

I could shift right now.

I have the ability to shift.

I have the power to shift at any moment.

While I do this, I focus on the feeling of being in my DR—not my surroundings, not my senses, just the internal feeling of being there.

This is where “brazen impudence” comes in. I hard-force myself to feel like I’m in my DR. It’s not about imagining my surroundings but purely about embodying the feeling of being there.

Hypnagogic imagery and sensations like floating often kick in at this point. These are symptoms of your body falling asleep so your awareness can take shape in that sweet spot for shifting.

I continue this, then stop and start counting from 1 to 100 again, with affirmations like:

I can shift.

I know how to shift.

I could shift right now.

Then I repeat the process: using brazen impudence to force myself to feel like I’m in my DR.

Eventually, I reach that threshold between sleep and wake—a liminal state of pure consciousness. Body asleep, mind awake, I call this the “rabbit hole” which is honstly just a deep state of hypnogogia. It’s a state where anything is possible: lucid dreaming, astral projection, slipping into the void, shifting—anything.

When I’m in this state, I use brazen impudence to force myself to feel like I'm shifting to my DR and don't take no for an answer (I tell myself I'm in Barbados and shut the door in my own face). This can involve affirmations or just talking myself through it, either way I wake myself up there. Occasionally, I simply relax, expect to wake up in my DR, fall asleep, and wake up shifted.

Does all that sound complicated? Let me simplify:

Lay down and get comfortable.

Count from 1 to 100 on a loop with affirmations in between until you mess up the counting, get sleepy, or have your mind wander. Like this:

Me: *counts from 1 - 100* Me: *says a few affirmations/askfirmations* Me: *counts from 1 - 100* Me: *says a few affirmations/askfirmations*

On a loop until...

Persist in the feel of being in your DR—not focusing on surroundings or senses, just the feeling. Feeling is the secret.

Alternate between steps 2 and 3 until you’re in that relaxed body asleep/mind awake state, OR just straight up hypnogogia tbh. (That is, if you don’t already shift lol)

From there, choose what feels right: shift from a lucid dream, affirm, slip into the void, or just feel yourself in your DR like I do, convince yourself that either you shifted and are there, or are shifting and will end up there.

One thing I’ll tell you now—regardless of your circumstances, how long you’ve been trying, how long it’ll take, who you are, etc—is that you already know how to shift. You, reading this right now. You know how to shift, and there’s nothing you did to learn it. There’s nothing you can do to unlearn it. It’s something that will stay with you until the end of time.

Why do you think people shift randomly without prior knowledge of shifting? Even people who don’t believe in it? It’s because everyone can shift. You can shift.

Right now, stop reading this post and say in your head or out loud, “I already know how to shift.” Or, if that doesn’t feel right, “I already have the ability to shift,” “No matter what, I have the power to shift,” or “My mind knows how to shift no matter what.”

Can you argue that? No, you can’t. And if your mind starts throwing out “buts,” go back and read that again.

Shifting isn’t difficult, and no one struggles to shift. I’m sure you’ve heard it before—that shifting is simple and happens in seconds—because it does. You don’t struggle with shifting. You can shift; everyone has the power to. What you “struggle” with, so to speak, is figuring out what works for you, what your brain likes, how it operates—because everyone is different.

What ended up working for me more than anything was figuring out how I operate and modifying shifting to fit me—not forcing myself to fit shifting.

Will my method work for everyone? I have no idea. Unless you assume it will work for you, this is what works for me. I’m me, and you’re you.

Before you say “Oh, but I’ve tried everything and nothing has worked so far” and expect me to sit here and ask you “but have you really tried everything? <3” , listen to me. 

I could shift perfectly well with my own personal method before I started shifting regularly. I knew it worked well for my brain, but the thing that “blocked” me (so to speak) were my assumptions. 

When you sit there and say “I’ve tried everything and nothing has worked” that’s your assumption about yourself. You believe that nothing works for you, that you don't know how to shift, that you’re this powerless, lost baby shifter who needs guidance. 

There’s nothing wrong with this, it’s not your fault, and theoretically you could shift even with your “blockages” (I really hate that term), as shifting waits for no one.

This is why so many people shift randomly and with poor assumptions without meaning to. But you clicked on this because you want to know how you can shift consistently + on every time, and this is the answer I’m giving you. 

You find out what works better for you, be it affirming, visualizing, scripting, shifting awake, shifting asleep, shifting with hypnagogia, shifting with hypnopompic, shifting through lucid dreams, shifting with brazen impudence, through SATs, robotic affirming, through letting go, through putting your DR on a pedestal, through listening to music, through law of assumption alone, and many more. 

If that sounds overwhelming, please note that all of these are the same vehicles that get you to your destination. Just in different shapes and colors. Like how some people drive a car, others drive a motorcycle, others walk, others swim. The movement forward is always the same. 

What you’re doing, no matter how you’re doing it or in whatever state of consciousness you’re doing it from, will always be:

Assume it's true, feel it, receive it. “Assume and persist,” “ground yourself in the assumption,” you’ve heard it all before. 

How to Find What Makes You Shift On Command

You could either test different techniques (affirmations, visualizations, scripting, lucid dreaming, etc.) and see what feels natural to you. 

You could (and I love this one because it’s a cheat code) Assume you already know what works, and let the law of assumption guide you. “Manifest it” so to speak. 

Pay attention to your life, because you already shift on command, you've been doing it your whole life, but I guarantee you haven't noticed it. Pay attention to you, like how easily you slip into hypnagogia, your dream recall, or how strong your intuition is, maybe you put too much emotion into a scenario you don’t want in your life and it inherently manifests, things like that. Pay attention to the thing that makes you go “huh, that was weird”

“But Clover, I tried everything you mentioned above and still haven’t found my method!” 

My darling. Listen up. Come closer—I’m about to let you in on a secret. The way you apply the law of assumption isn’t one-size-fits-all, because assumptions and beliefs are not linear. It's the same every time, yes, it's a law. But just like you, the way you can use it is unique to each person.

Let me tell you how easy it is so you don't think I'm over-complicating it

You could, for instance, believe you’ve got $1000 in your bank account right now and act like it, fully living in the end. Or you could believe you’re going to have $1000 in your account and act like it’s already on its way. Or maybe you believe something’s going to happen that’ll bring you that $1000.

The same applies to shifting. It’s been a game changer for me. I used to struggle so much with things like:

“You’re already in your DR, just act like it.”

“Ignore the 3D.”

“You’ve already shifted.”

Do those methods work? Absolutely, they work beautifully. But like I said, if it doesn’t feel good or true to you, don’t force it.

My dearest, darling reader. If the story you see in your 3D is that you can’t shift, can’t find what makes you shift, are you just going to sit there and accept it? What is more satisfying? Think with me here: accepting that you don’t know how to shift and cannot shift, or persisting that you do know how to shift? 

“Clover, but I’ve been trying for 4 years! I’ve tried everything and I still haven’t shifted”

So that's your story? Your story, your assumption is that you’ve been trying for 4 years and haven’t shifted? If you’ve resonated with the phrase above, that’s your story. And there’s nothing wrong with it, but! there will be no magic solution for shifting. Or a magic method. Or a person like me giving you advice, that can make you shift without you changing your assumptions first.

“But I don’t want to reprogram my mind! It doesn’t work for me. I don’t want to do robotic affirming 24/7, I want results now!” 

I know, right? It’s annoying having to do these 100-step methods, and drink charged water, and have to beg the universe for your desire, and loop affirmations in your mind that directly contradict what you’re experiencing in the 3D.

“Oh ignore the 3D, the 4D is your only real imagination!” they say, as you sit there, clutching your phone, rocking back and forth in bed, repeating affirmations you don’t resonate with while dreaming of being railed by your S/O.

Believe me, I've been there, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I asked myself why couldn't these basic steps that worked for everyone else work for me. I blamed myself for not trying hard enough, for being lazy, for inconsistent. When all that time, the answer was me. I needed to manifest/shift in a way that felt good for me.

Just remember, the law of assumption isn't complicated, and the way you apply it is not one-size-fits-all. Reprogramming the mind through continuous repetition and affirmation works, and if that resonates with you or feels effective, you should absolutely go for it.

However, at its core, you don’t inherently need to reprogram your mind. It’s as simple as assuming your mind has already been reprogrammed and watching it unfold before your eyes. You do what feels right to you.

For example, if person A does better with visualization and listening to music, why on earth are they affirming and listening to subliminals?

If person B feels better scripting in a notebook, why the hell are they reprogramming their mind?

If person C feels good reprogramming their mind, why are they taking the simple route?

Funny, isn't it? Which is why if you've read all of this so far, and you have not resonated with it, just click away. Go find another post or advice that feels true to you. The words I'm writing right now are not universal, they're not the absolute truth. That's the beauty of the law of assumption. Whatever you believe to be true, becomes true.

I didn’t feel good with the affirmations “I’m already in my DR” and “I already shifted.” Do they work, are they true? Yup, but I didn’t feel good ignoring the 3D, even when I knew the 4D was the true reality. So I swapped them for affirmations like "I'm shifting to my DR", “I’m going to shift to my DR”, swapping things like “I already shifted” to “I’m shifting” because those are the kinds of affirmations my brain loves. 

I've heard a silly bit of misinfo that these affirmations stating future events put you in an infinite loop, and that they don’t make you achieve your desire. That’s not true? At all? Makes me laugh, really. Because here I am, “master shifter” or whatever name people give it in this reality, shifting as much as I want to wherever I want with these types of affirmations.

Yet here I see every day on the internet, people implanting stubborn little rules and regulations to a practice that has been done for ages, a universal law that will work even when you don’t care for it to work. 

How I Shifted The First Time

The law of assumption is what made me shift in the end. Initially, I surprised myself at the beginning of my shifting journey because I shifted three months after starting it. I woke up one morning in my DR room, felt it was real, knew it was possible, but accidentally shifted back because it was too good to be true. 

What followed was a period of losing my mind; I shift back to my DR for a few seconds (mini-shifts), fully shifted to different rparallel ealities, and filled the hell out of shifting journals with my discoveries as I went along. But I never fully shifted to my DR and stayed there. I wanted to permashift. I was so focused on leaving my CR and going to my DR permanently, frustrated because I knew I could shift, knew how to in theory, but was stuck in this endless loop of assuming I couldn't make myself shift and had to rely on spontaneous shifts.

And then one night it clicked when I was reflecting on the law of assumption and reality shifting. I knew shifting was real. I knew I could shift. Everyone can shift. I had shifted before. I would continue to shift even if I gave up on shifting. I could shift that night if I wanted to. I could shift that night even if I didn't want to. I knew how to shift. And so do you.

These are all assumptions I went to sleep with in mind, laying there, feeling like an idiot as it all clicked for me. 

If there was no doubt in my mind that I could shift that night, why wouldn’t I be able to shift? 

What followed was an overwhelming sense of peace washing over me. I let go. What more was there to be done? I could shift. There was no crying or screaming that could make me shift more than I could right then. 

I laid there and started my process. Just like I mentioned earlier. I began counting from 1 - 100 on a continuous loop. With affirmations that I could shift, I knew how to shift , I could shift that night.

And then I reached hypnagogia, and began inducing the feeling of being in my DR, just like I mentioned earlier. That liminal space rabbit hole shortly followed. I could go anywhere I wanted then. I could lucid dream. I could astral project. I could slip into the void. I could shift, and I did. Just…letting go and inducing the feeling of being in my DR. Not the surroundings, not the 5 senses, no affirmations. Just knowing that I was in my Dr. 

It was peaceful. 

I was at ease. 

And then I was woken up by a violent crack of thunder because my dumbass scripted my DR wakeup scenario to be in the middle of spring, and it was raining -_- 

I woke up in my DR, fully grounded, fully there, pinching my skin purple because I couldn't believe I was looking out the window at my DR city.

I wish I could tell you that I remained cool, but I so didn’t. I sat in bed for a good 10 minutes, mouth agape, repeating “oohh fuck it’s real….ohhh my god it’s real…whaaat the hell.” 

And then I paced around my room panicking, giggling like an idiot, checking my DR phone because all my friends and DR life was on there as evidence, opening drawers, looking at myself in the mirror, and straight-up freaking out. 

What followed after that was incredible, something I lack the words to describe. I spent a few weeks in my DR before shifting back, spending a few weeks here and then shifting back–here, back, here, back and forth, spending more time in my DR then my CR to the point where I consider my DR my true reality, and this one as my “other” reality. 

I shifted back here in early December of last year, and I’m here now before I shift back permanently—meaning, I’ll shift there, and then the next time I shift will be to another DR or a waiting room somewhere in the multiverse. I’m taking a "break" so to speak and hanging out here until events I scripted in my DR start to happen, and my life changes (positively, all good things I assure). 

I’m not sure if the person or people who find this post will care, but my other reality was originally called my “Witch DR”, where, as the name suggests, I’m a witch :) But not the fun kind, with a broomstick, a cauldron, and a pet cat though 😂The kind where I have to be up early for work in the mornings, can’t keep a cat because the building I live in doesn’t allow it, and have more responsibilities there than I do in this reality. 

One thing I didn’t expect about shifting before I lived there the first time is that—it’s life. You will have good days. You will have bad days. You will fuck up. You will laugh so hard that soda comes out of your nose. You will cry more than you ever have. And the people you once saw on a TV screen are very real, and can be very annoying lol. I miss my DR friends dearly right now, but I can’t go poking around the internet for videos and pictures of them because it feels so weird. 

Gut feelings are strange. I use them as a compass in both realities whenever I have to manually flap the butterfly’s wings and take a route. I felt compelled to write this post, and I’m not sure why. But if what this post has the power to help one singular person and help them realize their power, I'll be beyond happy.

[strawberry-bubblef]

Could I please request house wardens catching they're s/o threwing up overblot ink and they're just like 'It's fine' but the ink is slowly taking over and tearing apart their insides? Like, they're not overbloting cuz they're magicless but when they fought off the house wardens, the blot got into their system, and it's not pretty.

Housewarden catching their s/o throwing up blot ink

Riddle Rosehearts

It happened after the fight. After the dust settled, the roses stopped bleeding, and Riddle returned to himself,confused, breathless, horrified.

You were the first to run to him, ignoring the warnings, the lingering sparks of magic still fizzing in the air. You had touched his face, still streaked with blot, and smiled shakily.

“It’s over,” you whispered. “You’re okay now.”

But he hadn’t noticed your hands trembling. He hadn’t seen the ink beneath your fingernails.

The first time you coughed up ink, it was just a droplet. Small. Easy to hide. You wiped it with your sleeve, heart hammering. You told yourself it was a fluke.

Then came the second time. The third.

You started avoiding mirrors because you didn’t want to see the veins blackening faintly beneath your skin.

The corruption wasn’t magical,it couldn’t be. You were magicless. That was the rule. You couldn’t overblot. You shouldn’t be able to.

But maybe… maybe the rules didn’t apply to whatever the blot had become inside you.

And then, one day, Riddle walked into your shared study and found you hunched over the wastebasket, coughing violently.

“Y/N—?” His voice pitched up in panic. He was at your side in seconds, kneeling, grabbing your shoulders,only to freeze as he saw what you’d expelled.

Thick, black ink. Unmistakable.

It clung to your lips. Coated your hand. Pooled at your knees like tar.

You looked up at him with a pale smile. “It’s… fine.”

His heart stopped. “No. No, it isn’t.” His voice was shaking. “You’re not a mage, you—this shouldn't even be possible !”

You tried to stand, but your legs gave out, a fresh stream of ink spilling from your lips. It hissed faintly as it hit the floor, like it was alive.

Riddle caught you before you collapsed, his gloves smearing against the substance as he cradled you. His hands were trembling.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “How long?”

“Since the fight,” you mumbled, barely conscious. “I thought it would pass. I'm not like you… I didn’t think it could overtake me…”

“You’re not overblotting,” he said in disbelief, eyes wide as he looked at your body. “But it’s inside you. It’s killing you.”

You gave a weak laugh. “Guess I'm breaking a few rules, huh?”

He didn’t laugh.

“Don’t joke,” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours. “You didn’t break rules. I did. And you’re paying the price.”

Tears welled in his eyes.

“I won’t let this stand. I won’t lose you. Even if I have to rewrite the rules of magic itself.”

And for the first time in a long while, Riddle Rosehearts broke a rule,he left your side only to begin researching forbidden magics, his pristine record forgotten.

Because if the system allowed this… then it didn’t deserve his obedience.

Leona Kingscholar

He finds you behind the botanical garden, hunched over, your hand pressed against your mouth as thick, viscous ink drips through your fingers.

You don’t hear him at first.

You’re too busy trying not to throw up again, trying to breathe, trying to pretend this isn’t as bad as it feels.

But Leona sees. And he freezes.

“…What the hell.”

His voice is low, almost too quiet. Not angry. Not yet. Just… stunned.

You turn your head slightly, weakly, forcing a smile that looks more like a grimace. “Hey…”

His eyes narrow at the blot staining your lips and chin.

“What is that?”

You try to wipe it away. “It’s just… a little leftover blot. From the fights. I guess it got in me somehow—”

“You guess?” He cuts you off, but there’s no venom in it. Just a sharp edge of disbelief. “You’re throwing it up.”

You glance away, embarrassed. “I didn’t think it’d get this bad.”

Leona steps forward, slowly. His expression isn’t scowling or pissed—it’s something worse.

Worried.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want you to worry. You’ve already got enough going on.”

A long silence stretches between you.

Then, softly,so softly it almost doesn’t sound like him,he mutters, “Don’t do that.”

You blink up at him. “Do what?”

“Decide for me.” He looks at you now, and there’s a tightness in his voice that pulls something deep in your chest. “If you’re hurting—especially because of me—I want to know. You don’t get to protect me by putting yourself through hell.”

You try to make a joke, to lighten the moment. “Wow. That sounded dangerously close to sentiment.”

But he doesn’t smile. He just exhales and crouches in front of you, eye-level now.

“You look like your insides are fucking breaking apart.”

“…They might be.”

He tenses, jaw clenching, but he doesn’t lash out. He just reaches out and rests his hand behind your back, steadying you as you tremble.

“You’re magicless. You shouldn't even be able to survive it.” His voice is low, rough. His grip on you tightens slightly,anger, panic, frustration, all twisted into his jaw. “Do you have any idea what this’ll do to you?”

You manage a laugh. “Think I’m finding out.”

His ears flatten. His tail lashes behind him. But his hands don’t leave you.

“I’m taking you to someone who can help,” he says, his voice firm but careful. “You don’t argue. You don’t pretend. You let me take care of it this time.”

You’re too tired to fight. You lean into him, and he lifts you without complaint, one arm around your shoulders, the other under your knees.

His brow stays furrowed the entire time.

He doesn’t say much else. But the way he holds you,secure, protective, just a little too tight,says enough.

And just before you slip into unconsciousness, you hear him murmur something into your hair.

“You saved my damn life. So don’t think I’m letting you throw yours away.”

Azul Ashengrotto

He thought it was a joke at first.

You were always trying to hide things from him, especially when it came to your injuries. You were proud, and he admired that,even if it made him worry. But when he caught you stumbling out of the Mostro Lounge’s back hallway, one hand gripping the wall, the other pressed against your lips, he didn’t smile.

Then you collapsed to your knees.

And the ink came spilling out.

Thick, black, vile. It hit the floor in splatters, sticky and alive, like it didn’t want to leave your body. Your back arched with the force of it, and you coughed so hard it sounded like something inside you cracked.

Azul dropped the clipboard he’d been holding.

His shoes echoed across the polished floor as he rushed to you, faster than he’d ever let himself move in public. “Y/N—!”

You waved a shaky hand, still hunched over. “It’s okay, it’s just—just a little blot..”

“That,”kneeled beside you, “is not a little blot!”

You were tired. Your eyes were glassy. And the ink,gods, the ink was boiling. Like it was trying to crawl its way back down your throat.

He tried to reach for you, but paused, hesitating. What if touching you made it worse? What if his magic triggered something else?

You noticed. Even through the haze, you gave him a soft, crooked smile. “Don’t look so scared… I’m magicless, remember? I can’t overblot.”

“You don’t need magic to be consumed by it,” he snapped, voice cracking. “You were exposed. Weren’t you? During the fights—against me—”

“…Yeah.”

He closed his eyes for just a moment. His chest hurt.

“How long?”

You hesitated.

“How long, Y/N?”

“…Two weeks.”

Azul’s hands trembled, just slightly. He never trembled.

“I could’ve helped you,” he whispered.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

A bitter, strangled sound left his throat,something between a scoff and a gasp.

“You think I’d care about appearances when you’re dying in front of me?”

You leaned into him, your strength fading fast. He caught you this time, arms curling around your form as the ink soaked into his sleeves. He didn’t flinch.

“Stay with me,” he said softly, his voice lower than it had ever been. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll find a way. I don’t need a contract. I don’t need payment. I just—"

He cut himself off.

Held you tighter.

Pressed his forehead to yours, eyes wide and shining.

“…Please,” he breathed. “Don’t leave me alone again.”

You managed to whisper his name before everything went dark.

And Azul stayed there, holding you, ink pooling around him like a curse he couldn’t bargain his way out of.

Kalim Al Asim

You didn’t want him to see it.

You’d been hiding it for days, shivers, the way you sometimes gripped your stomach like something was tearing through you. You kept smiling, waving off his concern, calling it a cold, stress, anything to keep his eyes off the truth.

But Kalim was nothing if not persistent.

He followed you when you left the party early, weaving through the celebration in Scarabia with apologies and excuses. You’d said you needed air. But he found you behind the dorm, bent over and gasping, your hand trembling as it caught the wall to steady yourself.

“Y/N?” His voice was light at first. Confused.

You turned to him too late.

The ink was already pouring from your mouth.

Thick, black, and writhing,like it was fighting to stay inside. It hit the sand like tar, steaming in the desert air. Kalim froze. His breath caught in his throat.

“Y/N?!”

You coughed again, nearly collapsing, but he caught you just before you hit the ground. His hands were on your shoulders, then your back, his jewelry clinking as he tried to support you.

“I—I’m fine—” you gasped, barely able to lift your head.

“No, no you’re not! That’s blot! That’s overblot ink, what—what’s happening?!”

You looked up at him with eyes too tired to lie. “It got in me. During the fight..with Jamil..”

Kalim blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then he shook his head, violently. “No. No, no, no—that’s impossible, you’re not even a mage, you can’t—”

“I know. I can’t overblot.” You gave a hollow laugh that turned into a rasping cough. “But it’s inside me. It’s still killing me, just… slower.”

You expected panic. You expected fear.

What you didn’t expect was Kalim to wrap his arms around you and hold on like he’d drown without you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into your shoulder, voice shaking. “I didn’t know. I should’ve known. I—”

“It’s not your fault—”

“It is,” he said, louder now. “It is, because I would’ve never let you near him if I knew this could happen! I would’ve protected you-I would’ve done something—!”

You coughed again, ink dribbling past your lips. Kalim wiped it away with a shaking thumb.

“…Why didn’t you tell me?”

You couldn’t answer. Not with the way the pain twisted inside you.

But your silence said enough.

Kalim pressed his forehead against yours, holding you close even as the ink stained his white and gold sleeves.

“I’m going to fix this,” he whispered. “I don’t care how long it takes, or what I have to give up. You’re my light, Y/N. And I won’t let you go out.”

He pulled you closer still.

Kalim Al-Asim felt helpless in the face of something he couldn’t fix with love alone.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil had always prided himself on control.

Poise. Discipline. Perfection. His life was a routine of polished movements, carefully chosen words, and flawless performances. Emotions were something to be harnessed, not shown. Mess was something to be cleaned up not lived through.

And yet.

He found you doubled over in the pristine bathroom of Pomefiore, retching up a substance that didn’t belong in any world where things made sense.

It was black. Viscous. Blot.

It clung to your mouth like tar, trailing in thin strings from your lips as you spat the rest into the sink. Your hands were shaking, gripping the edges of the porcelain like you might fall apart if you let go.

Vil stopped in the doorway. Time seemed to catch its breath.

“…Y/N?”

Your eyes flicked to him through the mirror.Hollow.

“…Hey,” you said hoarsely. “You’re not supposed to be back yet.”

He didn’t respond. He walked forward, slowly, carefully,as if any sudden move would break you entirely. His reflection stood beside yours, immaculate as always, but you,you looked like death.

“I told you I was fine,” you whispered, voice cracking.

Vil reached for your chin, tilting your face toward his with the gentlest touch he’d ever given anyone. His hand didn’t shake but his breath did.

“That,” he said coolly, “is not fine.”

You tried to smile, but it slipped before it even formed. “It’s… from the SDC. I didn’t notice at first. But the ink,it’s been in me since then.”

His eyes flickered, sharp and calculating, but you could see the fracture behind them.

“You knew,” he said, voice dangerously low. “And you kept it from me.”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

Vil laughed,humorless, bitter. “You didn’t want to worry me? Y/N, you are coughing up blot. That’s not a worry, it’s a nightmare.”

You tried to sit up straighter, but the movement sent a violent spasm through your chest, and more ink spilled out of you. Vil caught you as you crumpled, holding you upright against him, not caring that the blot was staining his gloves, his robe,him.

“I didn’t think it’d get this bad,” you admitted, voice trembling. “I thought it would go away.”

“Things like this don’t just go away,” he snapped, but his arms were steady around you. “It festers. It spreads. And now—” He cut himself off. His breath hitched.

And then softer, almost pleading: “Why didn’t you let me help you?”

You looked up at him, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. “Because I knew you'd look at me like this. Like I’m broken. Like I ruined something.”

His expression shattered.

“I don’t care if it’s broken,” he said, voice thick. “We fix broken things. We heal them. But I can’t do that if you keep hiding it.”

You tried to protest, but he pulled you closer.

“From this moment on,” he murmured, voice fierce and low, “you are not hiding another thing from me. Not your pain. Not your fear. Nothing.”

“…Okay,” you whispered.

He brushed the hair from your face, cradling you like something fragile, precious. For once, he didn’t care about his appearance, or who might see him kneeling on the bathroom floor, covered in ink. All he cared about was keeping you here.

Alive. Safe.

His.

“You are not dying from this,” Vil said, not a hope but a command. “I won’t allow it.”

Idia Shroud

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

You’d promised. You told him it was just a scratch,that when the fight was over, you’d be fine. He’d seen you tired, bruised but still standing. Still smiling.

So why were you now curled up on the floor of his room in Ignihyde, your back pressed to the side of his bed, trembling as you violently coughed up black blot like your lungs were trying to reject your own insides?

“Wh-What the hell?!” Idia dropped the tablet in his hands. The clatter echoed too loud in the silence.

You wiped at your mouth, slowly turning your head to look at him with dull, glassy eyes. “It’s fine,” you muttered. “It’s just… leftover. From the overblot. I must’ve absorbed some of it.”

“‘Just’—??” Idia’s voice cracked, his hair flaring in jagged bursts. “That’s blot, Y/N. Not a nosebleed. Not a cold. That’s corrupted magic and pure suffering in liquid form!”

You tried to stand, but your legs gave out, and Idia was at your side before you hit the ground.

His hands hovered, twitching nervously. “Okay. Okayokayokay. This is—this is fine. Not fine fine, obviously, this is nightmare fuel tier, but like—okay, okay, I can fix this. Maybe.”

You leaned against him, breathing shallow. “Idia…”

“No. Don’t ‘Idia’ me right now,” he said, breath quick. “Why didn’t you say something?! I have monitoring programs—scans—serums—okay, mostly for Ortho, but still. I could’ve done something..!”

You rested your head on his shoulder. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

He froze.

“…Bother me?” he repeated in a whisper. “You really think you’d ever be a bother?”

Your silence said it all.

His voice cracked. “You’re the only person who makes this dumb room feel like something more than a digital grave. You show up, and suddenly it’s like I’m not just a spooky background character anymore. You make me feel like I matter. And you thought this wasn’t important enough to tell me?”

You didn’t mean to cry. You hadn’t even noticed it until the ink mixed with tears on your cheeks.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

He pulled you into his chest not with elegance, not with a dramatic speech, but with desperation. “I see you,” he whispered. “Not the ink. Not the breaking down part. Just… you.”

His fingers curled into your shirt as his voice went quiet.

“…I’m scared.”

“Me too,” you admitted.

He nodded, shakily. “Then we’re scared together.”

He adjusted your weight against him, wrapping his arms around you tighter,awkward, too warm, a little sweaty, but real.

“You’re not allowed to die,” he muttered. “I didn’t install a save point. Don’t make me invent necromancy.”

You gave a tiny, painful laugh.

And for once, it didn’t sound like a game anymore.

Malleus Draconia

The storm was still raging when you stumbled through the doors of Diasomnia.

Lightning cracked above the towers, thunder rolling across the moors, but the sound of it couldn’t drown out your gasps or the slick, wet sound of black ink splattering onto the cold floor beneath your feet.

You barely made it three steps before you collapsed to your knees, one hand bracing yourself while the other gripped your stomach. It felt like fire. Like something inside you was trying to rot its way out.

And then—

“Y/N.”

Malleus’ voice.

He appeared beside you in the blink of an eye, his presence nearly making the air vibrate with how quickly his magic reacted to your pain.

You looked up, vision swimming, lips trembling. “I—I’m fine.”

You weren’t.

You were coughing up tar-black blot like your lungs were lined with it, like your very soul had been stained by it. No magical signature, no spell. Just residue,something left behind after fighting too many overblots made of sorrow and rage.

Malleus knelt in front of you, his hands hovering at first, not daring to touch until you looked at him and gave the smallest nod.

The moment you did, he reached out and pulled you close, cradling you as if your body were made of glass.

“You’re not fine,” he said, voice lower than usual. There was a storm brewing inside him now, too. You could feel it.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you whispered, breath hitching. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

Malleus’ grip tightened slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

“I am always worried,” he murmured. “But I would rather be frightened by your truth than soothed by your silence.”

You flinched as another wave of pain struck, your spine arching as you coughed up more of the ink. It burned your throat. It felt like it was eating you alive.

And still—still—you clutched at his sleeve, as if asking him not to leave.

“I’m here,” he whispered immediately. “I will not leave. Not now. Not ever.”

You barely noticed the flickering green glow wrapping around you until you felt it seep into your bones. Gentle, ancient magic,dragged from deep within Malleus himself. Not offensive, not protective. Restorative.

But it didn’t work.

Not completely.

Because the blot wasn’t a spell. It wasn’t something that could be undone by fae power or reversed by time-honored rites. It was corruption,infectious,cruel and it was already far too deep inside.

Still, he tried.

He kept one hand against your chest, the other against your cheek, murmuring in an old tongue that only the fae still remembered. His words weren’t spells,they were promises.

The ink didn’t vanish, but it slowed. Your shaking eased. The agony remained, but Malleus' magic acted like a shield,like a steady breath amid the smoke.

“I failed you,” you whispered weakly. “I should’ve been stronger.”

He shook his head, his voice tight. “No. You were braver than I ever deserved. You fought battles we could not see. You bore a weight alone that should have crushed you and still, you stood.”

A long pause. Then:

“You were never meant to burn alone.”

He pressed his forehead to yours again, his next words barely audible:

“If this ink dares to take you from me… then I shall walk into the dark and bring you back myself.”

You shuddered, tears slipping free at last.

You didn’t want to die.

And under Malleus’ trembling hands, you felt the same truth written in his every touch:

He would not let you.

English is not my first language !

[swytdoll]

nsfw. slight somno.

✮⋆˙caleb always considered himself a true gentleman, taking pride in his manners and his ability to navigate life's complexities. yet, there were times when his polished exterior would slip. like now. the way he gently cradled your body, treating you like a fragile doll, showering soft kisses on your bare skin as you slept, was irresistible to him. you felt so warm and inviting. your soft snores, which might have bothered anyone else, only made him smile.

dark hair spread across the pillow, a few strands brushing against his face, bringing a grin to his lips. he cherished these little quirks about you—the way you curled up into a cozy ball, the way your nose twitched in your dreams. to him, every little detail was another reason to fall in love with you all over again. even after a long night that lasted until dawn peeked through the sheer curtains, he still yearned for more of you. it was only six twenty-five, yet the thought of being wrapped in your warm cunt stirred him awake.

with his calloused hands, he tenderly spread your thighs, his chest pressing warmly against your back as he nestled beside you. he vowed not to disturb your slumber, but a soft, unexpected moan slipped from his lips as he nudged his tip at your entrance. “my god, you’re so perfect.” your sleeping face contorts as he feeds you inch by inch, a familiar wetness allowing him to glide in effortlessly. he lets his eyes fall shut, relishing the feeling of you squeezing his shaft as he bottoms out. instinctively your back arches slightly as he begins to thrust, body naturally reacting to the slow, deep strokes. caleb shudders, pressing sloppy, wet kisses behind your ear as he molds you.

your breath is soft, a barely audible hum filling the quiet room. he sucks in a breath, the sound sending a tingle sensation from the top of his spine to his groin, where he can feel his cock swelling. the dark haired man hand wraps around your throat, holding your chin up as his lips explore the sensitive flesh of your neck. his strokes beginning to speed up, and the slight change in angle makes you stir awake. “ngnh! caleb!?” it’s hard to articulate as your husband pounds into you, his left hand digging into your hip, pulling you back onto his cock, splitting you.

“fuck, m’sorry ah—look so pretty when you sleep. shit, she’s suckin me in!” his voice is a deep, a rumbling whisper as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning against your cheek. the hand around your throat moves to the space between your breasts, keeping you pressed firmly against his body. the slick squelch of him pistoning into you filling the room like a melody, the bed shaking from his force.

he’s completely pussy drunk.

you can feel the way his muscles tense and flex with every thrust, his breathing labored. you love this side of him. it was a rare treat to see the normally composed, cool-headed man completely come undone. you feel his hand slide down from your breast, slender fingers splayed across your lower abdomen. “gah! feel me here?” his palm rests just below your navel, applying the smallest amount of pressure.

“y-yes, oh god!” it’s almost too much to take. caleb’s fat, pulsating cock stretching your walls, the mushroom tip nudging at your cervix. the lewd sounds of his dick gliding in and out of your cunt, his heavy balls slapping against your ass echoing through the room. his hand on your belly caresses the place he’s currently invading, making your head spin.

you’re a heap, moans coming out as strangled cries. his name spills from your lips, over and over like a broken record. your legs shaking as the knot in your stomach tightens, the telltale signs of your orgasm fast approach. caleb notices, of course, he notices everything.

his pace slows as his fingers find their way to your clit. you jolt, ‘s’okay. just relax.” he hums, rubbing small, firm circles against the swollen bud. “oh my gosh,” you whine, bucking back against him. it’s hard to keep your eyes from rolling back, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth. he groans, biting his lip. teeth sinking into his flesh as his hips pick up the pace again, pounding into you relentlessly. the hand at your clit is unwavering, pinching, flicking, rolling the button drawing out loud moans.

the knot in your belly snaps.

warmth washes over you as your orgasm wrecks your body. white light dancing in the corner of your vision, the intensity of the pleasure sending you reeling. caleb doesn’t stop, both hands now at your hips, pulling you back against him.

he’s close, his thrusts becoming more erratic, needy.

his voice is raspy, barely above a whisper as he mutters your name, followed by a long, drawn-out whine. the warmth of his cum fills you, thrusts slowing to a gentle rocking motion. after a moment, he pulls out, watching with an unbridled hunger as his seed drips from your abused pussy. the sun begins to rise, a faint yellow light streaming through the windows. caleb reaches over to the nightstand, picking up his phone. seven am. setting the phone back down he wraps his arms around you, fingers lightly dancing across your stomach. you find yourself leaning into his embrace, humming as he presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“good morning love.”

[ysaefinn]

Pairing: Dilf!Satoru Gojo x gn!reader x Dilf!Suguru Geto

Synopsis: you try being sneaky behind your boyfriends' backs. But they're dead set on pampering you.

Good riddance.

You feel like ripping your hair out. The Zoom meeting has been going on for what feels like forever now. You've already told the interviewer everything he needed to know, your educational detaile, your degree, your previous experiences in the work force, and even your living arrangement for whatever fucking reason. So why on earth is he still running his mouth?? The ache in your cheeks from holding that tight smile makes you begin to regret applying for the job in the first place.

"You know you don't have to do this." And you do know,"we take care of you just fine, don't we?" And they do,"please, you stress yourself enough with school. You have enough on your plate already." And you do "Awe baby, just let us take care of you." and you should, but you just wouldn't fucking listen huh?

Your married boyfriends hate to see you like this. Don't get it twisted, they find it endearing the way you just don't seem to be able to sit still, how you just have to be doing something to contribute. But you just love taking it too far, working yourself to the bone, burning yourself out. Something the two middle aged men just can't have. And so, Suguru and Satoru have taken it as their mission to turn you into their spoiled little baby, a tiny little kitty in their palm, ever since they lured you into their marital home with charming smiles and hot meals.

The interviewer's words fade into the background as more and more doubt begins to cloud your mind. Realistically speaking, you really aren't in nee-

"Oh? what do we have here?"

You freeze.

But a pair of strong muscular arms wrap around your own, warming you right back up, you recognize that teasing tilt of tone anywhere. Lost in your own thoughts, you haven't been able to catch Satoru make his way into the room you swear you locked, and pull you into his embrace, your back pushed against hid soft plush chest.

"We talked about this didn't we? I can't believe you would go behind our backs like this? Im so disappointed~"

And usually, you'd laugh, kiss his cheek, tell him to stop being so dramatic, or even play along if he's lucky. But not when you've been caught red-handed, not when you've promised them time and time again that you'd take better care of yourself, and not when you've been pushing this interview around for when they both would be at work, and definitely not with your camera still on.

"U-uh satoru..." Said man responds with a hum against the back of your head in between gentle feather-light kisses.

"I'm uhm...in the middle of something....as you can see"

A second then two pass before he takes his face off of your hair. You can feel his piercing blue gaze burn the back of your head before he bursts into laughter. You shrink and curl back into him further.

"Awh sweets, the audaci-"

"Easy, Satoru. No use in being mean, you know our little angel just can't help it"

Your stomach drops to you ass once you register your other boyfriend (who's also your other boyfriend's husband)'s voice. Satoru rests his chin on your shoulder before pouting childishly.

Once again, your camera is very much still recording.

Suguru is leaning against the frame of the wide open door, a fond little smile on his face. And all hope is thrown to the wind. You may have had a chance at escape with Satoru, but definitely not with his husband. The feeling of hopelessness intensifies when the long haired man stands up straight and makes his way to you with purpose.

Suguru carries himself with the same elegance that caught your eye the first day you've met, a select few gray strands catch the sunlight making his black locks almost seem bejeweled. His hand comes down to ruffle his husband's hair and then to pinch your cheek affectionately before taking your unoccupied side. Effectively adding more fuel to the fire. Your hands fly to hide your flaming hot face, and your men share a look of amusement.

"Aww sweetie, come here." And of course. he wouldn't be Suguru if he didn't jump at the chance to coddle you in his own arms. "i know, i know... all of this work business must be stressing you out to no end," he noses at your temple, then moves to smear a long chast kiss on your cheek.

Maybe it's out of consideration for your rapidly beating heart. Maybe he thinks it's something only you should have the privilege to hear, either why you're thankful the next words came in the form of a whisper againt your cheek.

"But that's why you have us, right? We'll handle everything. You can just be our little one, wouldn't that be nice?"

And you nod, you actually nod. Can you believe that? That's all it took. Being sandwiched between the couple, a few kisses here and there a gentle whisper and you're once again swept off your feet.

"Why do you have to be this waaaayyy..." your muffled whining only serves to endear them, a big hand travels under your shirt to rub soothing circles on your back.

"It's for your own good" Suguru is yet to drop the soft cooing.

"And you do it to yourself!" Satoru is yet to drop the teasing.

You're reminded of two big happy cats when they start rubbing their cheeks on either side of your face, it's pretty impressive how synchronized they can be sometimes, yet again, you suppose it just comes naturally after a decade of marriage.

"..excuse m-" "You're excused!" Satoru quickly shuts your laptop. Effectively interrupting the interviewer, almost out of fear of an impromptu change of mind from your end, you can be quite stubborn, something they're working on correcting as well.

The embarrassment doesn't get a chance to sink in before Suguru scoops you up in his arms, eager to mother you as per usual.

"You've barely eaten anything for breakfast, you must be starving.. our poor baby..."

And your brain is melting again.

Maybe another day of unemployment wouldn't kill you.

[girlgenius1111]

hard knocks

alexia putellas x reader r gets a concussion, and her girlfriend, alexia, wants to help take care of her. r is incredibly resistant to allowing alexia to help, but she really doesn't have a choice. head injury, blood, etc. soft ale hurt comfort :)

—

You knew it probably wasn’t going to end well for you before you even made the move. The adrenaline was pumping through your veins, and all you could think about was making sure the ball didn’t hit the back of the net. The corner had been taken, and you saw the player you were marking move. She moved with intention, and you just knew the ball was heading towards her. 

So, you did what you had to do, what any defender in your position would have done, and jumped just as the other player did. From there, things got somewhat… blurry. 

You knew your head hit the ball, sending it away from the goal. You knew your body collided with your opponent’s before you were falling towards the ground. And then a sharp stinging pain as your face collided with something hard just before your head slammed into the grass underneath you. 

It wasn’t immediately clear to you what was wrong, just that your head hurt. But when you brought your hands to cradle your face, you could feel the blood. It was all you could do to raise one red stained hand into the air and motion frantically for help. 

The next second, there were hands on your back, voices shouting around you. You didn’t know who was talking, didn't know who was touching you, trying to roll you onto your back. 

It was dark, which was odd, because you remember the stadium lights being bright. Your eyes were closed, you realized, your face pressed into the grass under you. 

Everything began to come back into focus, as if the thoughts that had been smashed out of your head were suddenly allowed back in. 

You recognized Cata’s voice in your ear, her gloved hands on your back. 

“Don’t move, chica, just stay right there,” Cata was saying. She wasn’t trying to roll you over, you realized; she was trying to keep you as still as possible. 

Right. A head wound, you weren’t supposed to move until the medics got there. Forcing your eyes open, you got just a glimpse of the medics in a dead sprint towards you before your eyes slammed shut again, overwhelmed by the light. You groaned, hearing the medics arrive at your side and begin to ask you too many questions as they stabilized your neck and applied pressure to your face. 

Did your neck hurt? Not specifically. 

Did your back hurt? No. 

Could you move your hands? Your toes? Yes and yes. 

Question after question, answer after answer, it felt like an eternity before they cleared you to be rolled onto your back. They made you open your eyes again, and you weren’t even aware of the tears beginning to streak down your face. The neck brace they brought next was entirely precautionary, they assured you. 

“Okay, they’re driving the ambulance on right now. We’ll get you to the hospital soon.” Adriana said, the blonde physio that was currently crouched at your side, closest to your head. You hummed your understanding, allowing your eyes to flutter shut again. 

“Can you open your eyes?” Adriana asked, urgency dripping from her tone. 

You let out a choked sob, one you had no idea was even trying to get out, and cracked one eye just barely open. “Too bright. Hurts.” You managed. 

“Okay, okay. You’ll be off in a second and it’ll be darker.” Alvaro, the physio on your other side, assured you. “We just can’t have you falling asleep. Keep them open for me, just a few more seconds.” 

You forced them back open, just enough to take in the grimly focused faces of those around you. Not just the physios, but the medics they had on standby at the field. At least 6 faces surrounded you, none the one face you were looking for. In fact, you were looking before you even knew you were looking, but some rational part of you must have remained intact in your brain, because you didn’t ask for her. 

Alexia was your girlfriend, yes. But only of a few months. It would have been downright absurd to ask for her to come to you. In the middle of the pitch, surrounded by so many curious eyes. Even if there hadn’t been, Alexia was under no obligation to care for you. 

Even if you wanted her next to you right now, holding your hand as the ambulance began to drive away. leaving her and your teammates behind. They were all beyond horrified.

Cata was getting new gloves on because her first pair had your blood on them. Vicky looked a concerning shade of green. Irene was trying to force the team to focus again, repeating encouragements and patting them on the back as they walked back onto the pitch, even as her own hands shook. 

Alexia, though, was stood rooted to the spot she’d been since Patri had pulled her over to the sidelines, just a minute after you’d gone down. Her eyes were now fixed on where you’d been, terror clear on her face. 

“Ale.” Irene said. Hands gripped her forearms, and Alexia’s eyes snapped up, jolted from the fog of worry clouding her every thought. “She’s alright, she’s conscious. She’s going to be fine, but we need you to focus. Can you do that?”

Irene’s words were spoken gently, even as almost everyone else was back on the pitch. Ingrid was jogging on, coming on in your place. The clock was ticking, the match needed to resume. There were probably less than 10 minutes left even with stoppage time, and the team still had a job to do. Irene was confident, of course, that Alexia would snap out of it. Refocus in, transform into the leader the team needed rather than the worried sick girlfriend she was. 

But it seemed Irene underestimated just how deeply Alexia cared for you. Even Alexia herself had, until you’d been laying on the pitch with a head injury and Alexia was forced to reckon with the overwhelming emotions and feelings trying to choke her. 

“I can’t. I can’t, Irene.” Alexia murmured. There was no untangling all her emotions in that moment. She only knew what she had to do, and that was to get the hell off the pitch and to her car. 

Irene tried to mask the look of shock that washed over her, as if Alexia would even have noticed it in the state she was in. She was surprised, but she also knew that if Alexia was saying she couldn’t go on, she couldn’t go on. With a gentle squeeze of Alexia’s hands, Irene turned to Pere, only to find that Aitana was already standing next to the fourth official, waiting to come on. Pere looked somewhat dumbfounded, not having expected to have to make the change, but Aitana looked sure of herself. Rafel was stood behind her  and Irene knew instantly who was behind this change. Not their head coach, that was for sure. 

When Irene turned back, Alexia was gone. The only trace of her was a mostly brunette ponytail swinging as she sprinted down the tunnel. 

Irene jogged back onto the pitch next to Aitana, both of them focused. There was still a job to be done, and they were both going to make sure the team executed. 

As for Alexia, she was already out of the locker room, barefoot with her white Nikes in her hand, and her bag in the other. Keys, wallet, phone, shoes. That was all she needed. 

That, and to get to you.

—

Alexia had always been such a force, from the moment you’d met her. But confident captain Alexia didn’t arrive at your hospital room. Ale did, hands trembling, brow furrowed adorably with concern. Of course, you didn’t know which version had arrived, only that the door had swung open and you hoped it was a nurse with more painkillers because this hurt. 

“Amor?” Alexia murmured, stuck in the doorway as she took in the scene in front of her. A bright light was shining down on your face, a doctor in dark scrubs working to close the gash on your cheek. 

“You can’t be in here.” A man said, stepping in front of Alexia just as she tried to move to your side. 

“No, no, she is my– I need to see her. She is my girlfriend.” Alexia rushed out, her panic voice only now reaching your ears. She was a mess, face tear streaked from all the crying she’d done in the car. Her ponytail was tangled because it had been raining earlier, and she was still in her kit. It was a miracle her shoes were on the right feet, and she was sure she looked like she’d escaped an involuntary hold or something.

You’d been almost entirely focused on not moving, not flinching or wincing as the plastic surgeon carefully stitched your skin back together. He paused, though, seeing your eyes fly open at the sound of your girlfriend’s voice. 

“Ale?” You murmured, heart clenching in your chest at the thought she was here, here for you. 

“I understand that, but–”

“It’s alright, she can sit on the other side.” The surgeon interrupted. Alexia didn’t want another second, side stepping the nurse to carefully make her way to you. He was well aware that this was a painful process, one even more painful with the very few things he’d been allowed to give you, considering they were still waiting for the results of your head scan. You’d looked scared from the minute he explained that he was going to stitch up the wound on your face, your body so tense he was surprised it wasn’t shaking. 

As he’d hoped, you released a deep breath as Alexia’s hands grabbed yours, your body finally relaxing. Sometimes, the rules needed to be bent for the good of the patient. This was exactly one such case. 

“Oh, amor.” Alexia whispered. You barely registered her words, focused entirely on not crying as her warm hazel eyes bored into yours. When you were by yourself, you could hold it together. Now she was here, and you knew you had to hold it together so she wouldn’t see you fall apart. But her hand was so soft in yours, her thumb gently running back and forth over your skin. 

You hated being hurt. Hated being vulnerable. But being either of those things around Alexia was terrifying. She hadn’t seen you at anything but your best yet, and you hadn’t realized how much fear you carried at the thought of her being disgusted by your weakness. 

So, you grit your teeth, squeezed your eyes shut, and tried to power through. You missed the frown on the surgeon’s face as you tensed back up, missed the furrow of Alexia’s brow as she practically saw your walls come up. You let her keep holding your hand, trying to convince yourself you weren’t lying in the hospital. No, you and Alexia were walking, hand in hand, to the cafe down the street from your apartment. 

The delusion didn’t last very long, if at all, before the surgeon was cutting the excess thread and expecting his handiwork. 

“All done. It was a jagged laceration, but it should heal pretty cleanly. The scar shouldn’t be too noticeable.” 

You nodded your head blankly, ignoring the pulsing pain as you did so, not even thinking to ask any other questions about your injuries. Alexia, on the other hand, appeared to have come with a list. She asked about the concussion severity, when you’d be free to go, wound care. Half of them were questions you were sure she knew the answer to already, and the other half were questions you weren’t quite sure how she’d come up with. You began to tune them all out, allowing yourself to take some deep breaths for what felt like the first time since you’d gone down on the pitch. 

Soon, the doctors and nurses filed out of the room, and you were left with Alexia, who was typing frantically into her phone. Either updating the team or taking notes on what the doctor had to say, you guessed. You cleared your throat, reaching for her hand again. There was dried blood under your nails, you noticed, but before you could retract your hand, Alexia was grabbing it in hers. Alexia’s phone fell into her lap as she abandoned her typing, eyes finding yours almost instantly. She was gazing at you so softly it made your cheeks flush. 

“Thank you for coming. You didn’t have to.” 

“Do not be ridiculous, of course I came.” She murmured, gently brushing a piece of hair off your forehead. “You scared me.” 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” You whispered back, eyes fluttering shut as she leaned down and pressed a kiss to the uninjured side of your face. 

“Do not be sorry, either. I am just glad you are okay.” 

You blinked a few times, reminding yourself there were to be no tears. “How did you get here so fast? You weren’t supposed to be substituted.”

If you’d been more coherent, less distracted by the pounding in your head and the aching sting of your cheek, you would have noticed Alexia’s face get slightly red. 

“I… I asked to come out. I would not have been able to focus. I needed to get to you.” She replied, her eyes still flitting over your face as if to assure herself that you were here, you were okay. 

The pain in your head was suddenly overshadowed by a wave of something you couldn’t describe washing over you at her words. 

You couldn’t put a name to the feeling. All you could think was oh, you didn’t deserve her. Yet here she was. 

A tear escaped, sliding down the side of your face and onto the pillow resting under your head. Alexia moved even closer, her face just a few inches from yours now, absolutely filled with worry and sadness. She cupped your cheek in one hand, resting the other on your chest, needing to feel you and make sure you felt her. 

“It’s alright, cariño. You are going to be okay, everything is okay.” 

Nothing felt okay. It felt too good and too scary at the same time, and you weren’t sure how to reconcile those two emotions. 

“I love you.” You whispered. 

Alexia’s eyes widened, and you froze. Where on earth had that come from? You’d been thinking it, yes. Practically since your first date. But they must have given you more painkillers than you thought, or maybe you were suffering a traumatic brain injury, because there was no other reasonable explanation for you saying those words to her before she said them to you. 

Alexia looked as surprised as you felt, shocked into silence for a minute before she leaned in, her lips barely brushing yours, she was so gentle. She seemed to be gathering herself when she pulled away, and you felt your stomach drop. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

“Shh,” Alexia soothed, stroking your hair once again. “I love you, too, amorcita. So much.”

She said it like it was easy, like she didn’t need to give it a second thought. You were reminded again at how Alexia always seemed to see only the best in you. Here you were, covered in blood and sweat, half your face covered with gauze, eyes half shut because the light hurt too much, making confessions of love at the worst possible time. Yet Alexia seemed to just be content that you were okay, thrilled at what you’d said. She didn’t see the mess, somehow. 

Though you supposed you could understand, at least partially. Alexia was practically a disaster at the moment, too, but you didn’t see the tangled mess her hair was, or the dried tear tracks on her face. You didn’t care that she smelled like outside, a mixture of grass and sweat. You were just so glad she was here, with you. So glad, in fact, you’d told her you’d loved her. 

So, as confounding as her adoration for you felt, you knew it probably just baffled you. Thinking about it made your head hurt, and your head already hurt. 

“You do?” 

Alexia rolled her eyes. “Tonta. Of course I do.” 

You gave a watery laugh, allowing her to tuck her face into your neck, her arms wrapping around you as best they could. 

“I want to go home.” You mumbled. 

“Soon, amor. We just need the head scan back and then we can go.” Alexia promised, pressing a series of kisses to the skin of your neck. 

“Good. You need a shower.” 

She pulled back, looking offended. “Disculpe! You think you do not?” 

You laughed, a real laugh, beyond amused at how easily you could rile her up. You didn’t even think about how the room was spinning slightly, or the way it felt like an elephant had stepped on your head. You were mesmerized by the woman in front of you, how she could make you laugh when no one else could. 

She must have seen your face soften, because hers did too, into a small, almost shy smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll both get a shower. We’ll get you home, and I’ll take care of you. Whatever you need.” 

Your smile faltered only slightly, just barely enough for Alexia to notice. She was struck with the odd feeling you would not be a very willing patient. 

—

“Amor, the doctor said,”

“Alexia, it’s fine. I need to wash my hair. It’ll be quick, it’s not a big deal.”

You shakily pushed past your girlfriend, heading for your bathroom. Alexia was just half a step behind you, though, as she’d been since the two of you arrived home 10 minutes ago. Steps unsteady, you were secretly glad for her hovering, knowing that if you stumbled even slightly, she’d catch you. 

“But your stitches–”

“Alexia.” You huffed, rolling your eyes as her arms came to wrap around your waist and pull you to a stop. Instead of spinning you around to face her, she moved herself until you were face to face. She looked stern, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed; the face she made when one of your younger teammates misbehaved. 

“The wound cannot get wet. He said you could rinse off in the shower if you made sure not to put your head under.” She studied you, her body still between yours and the shower you so desperately needed. 

You felt disgusting, covered in mud and dirt and blood. The feeling would stick to your skin, you knew, until you took a shower and made sure all of you was clean, including your hair. 

You tried to summon some anger, some frustration that she was being so stubborn, but you couldn’t. Alexia was just trying to help. She’d driven you home, going well under the speed limit and warning you before she turned or braked. She’d let you lean heavily on her as you made your way up to your apartment, pulling you into her arms in the elevator in the most comforting embrace you’d felt in a long time. 

And now you were being difficult, but you knew yourself. You genuinely would not be able to get to sleep tonight if something wasn’t done about your hair. It had spent several minutes on the muddy pitch whilst the medical staff had treated you, and you were sure if you were still enough, birds would come along and take it for a nest. 

“Ale, I really need to be clean.” You pleaded. 

Something in your voice made Alexia falter, her teeth chewing on her bottom lip as she thought. 

“Okay.” She said finally. “Okay. Quick body shower and then I’ll wash your hair in the sink, and that way your face won’t get wet.” 

You blinked, but Alexia was already moving, tugging you gently towards that bathroom. 

“Ale, you don’t have to do that.” 

The midfielder just waved you off, guiding you to sit on the closed lid of the toilet as she got the shower ready. She kept the big overhead light off, only turning the small one over your vanity on.

“Alexia, really, it’s fine I can… I can just go to bed like this.” You attempted, embarrassed and ashamed that you had made her think she had to wash your hair for you. If there was anything that could overcome your desperate need to be clean, it was your desperate need to not inconvenience Alexia any more than you already were. 

Alexia turned the showerhead on, bringing it to a temperature much less hot than you normally liked, but she didn’t want you to get any dizzier than you already seemed to be. She turned to you, then, already pulling her kit over her head and tugging at the ponytail in her own hair. 

“Amor, I said I was going to take care of you. That is what I am doing. Whatever you want, whatever you need. I promise, I don’t mind.” She said softly, crouching down in front of where you sat and placing her hands on your knees. 

“But–”

“No buts.” Alexia interrupted, leaning up to peck your lips. “Come on, baby.” 

She rose to her feet, extending a hand in your direction, and you made yourself take it. 

—

You felt awful. Worse than awful. It hadn’t really hit until after you’d showered and Alexia had shampooed and conditioned your hair in the sink. You’d told her she could just stop after the shampoo but she’d ignored that, insisting she liked the smell of the conditioner and how soft it made your hair. 

You knew she really just didn’t want to disrupt your routine, but you appreciated that she didn’t say that. 

But as she carefully combed through your hair, she noticed your face grow suddenly paler in the mirror. It wasn’t immediately clear, because half of it was swollen, a large bruise blooming across your cheek over the neat line of stitches, but when she noticed the way your body started to sway, the way your eyes began to glaze over, she knew you weren’t doing well. 

Quickly, she put the brush down, steadying you with her hands on your arms. 

“You okay?” 

You hummed, letting your eyes shut as you leaned your head back on her shoulder. Your hair was still wet, and therefore cold, falling directly onto Alexia’s skin as she only had a cropped tank top on, but she resisted the urge to shiver. 

“Talk to me. How are you feeling?” She insisted, wrapping her arms loosely around your waist, still studying your face in the mirror.

“Not… not great.” You replied finally. Your heart fluttered in your chest as she gently kissed your unwounded cheek. “I just need to lie down.” 

Alexia took that sentence as a mission directive, kissing you once again before carefully beginning to guide your body out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Your bed was practically calling your name, the soft blankets and squishy pillows all you’d been thinking about since leaving the hospital. 

Your girlfriend helped you under the covers, propping up two pillows under your head so your face didn’t swell too much. Once you were all tucked in, she sat on the edge of the bed, tracing over the bruise on your face with her fingers, so lightly you couldn’t even feel it. 

“What else can I get you? Food? Water? An ice pack? Anything, amor.” 

You smiled weakly at her, your face erupting in pain at the motion. The laceration was high up on your cheek, so close to your eye that it was now almost swollen shut. It had its own heartbeat, pulsed so painfully you almost felt sick to your stomach. All you wanted in that moment, all you wanted, was for Alexia to climb into bed with you, and hold you until it didn’t hurt anymore. 

But you couldn’t say that. Couldn’t ask for that. She’d done so much already. Left the match early, sat with you in the hospital, brought you home and helped you bathe. She’d done much more than enough.

The two of you weren’t the type of couple to spend every waking second together. You each still had your own apartments because you really valued your alone time, and post matches were normally nights you spent separately. You’d eat dinner together, discuss the match, before going your separate ways to decompress on your own. It worked for both of you. There had been exceptions, of course. After a loss in the league, when you could tell she didn’t want to be alone, you slept at her place. And after that awful own goal you’d had, though you’d still won the game, she’d ordered your favorite take out, put on your favorite film, and pulled you into her arms, mumbling something about being too tired to drive home. 

Still, you were sure that Alexia wanted to go back to her own apartment, get in her own bed and not be kept up by your tossing and turning [you were sure you weren’t going to be sleeping well that night, either].

“No, no, I’m all good, Ale. Thank you for everything. You can go home now, I know you probably–”

“Go home?” Alexia interrupted. She looked borderline offended at the suggestion, her hand gripping yours as if someone was going to come and try to make her go home. 

“Well, yeah. Like always after–”

“Mi amor, you have a concussion. You cannot be by yourself overnight. I have to wake you up every few hours, make sure everything is still okay.” Alexia explained, her face firm again as if daring you to push back. 

And, well. You’d forgotten about that part. Maybe you were more affected by this concussion than you thought. Your brain felt unbelievably foggy, all of a sudden, like you couldn’t string all your thoughts together without a few of them getting lost.

“Oh. That’s right.” You replied. “Still, I could set alarms…” 

Alexia frowned, something flickering in her eye that you couldn't quite decipher. “Do you really think I’d leave you when you were hurt?” 

Alexia looked disgusted at the mere notion, and your lips twitched with amusement. 

“Well. No.”

“No.” Alexia echoed. “I’m staying right here, with you. Okay?”

“Okay.” You replied, yet your bottom lip began to tremble and Alexia could see tears pooling in your eyes. 

“Cariño, what is it?” Alexia asked, voice dripping with concern that made your stomach twist. 

How did you even begin to explain why you were crying? Why this was so hard for you, why you were pushing her away when you needed her desperately to stay? 

“I j-just feel bad.” You whispered, averting your eyes from her hazel ones gazing at you. Less than a second later, though, a hand was finding your chin, carefully guiding your face back up to look at her. 

She had that look she got when there was a problem to be solved, the face she made when she stood over a free kick and tried to figure out exactly where to place it. 

“Why do you feel bad?” She wondered.

You inhaled deeply, and Alexia brought your joined hands up, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. She waited so patiently, absentmindedly raking her fingers back through her hair to get it out of her face. You wondered if she knew how distracting she could be without even trying. 

“I just… I’m not good at this. I feel terrible for making you take care of me. It’s stupid, but I feel like…” 

“Do not even say it. You are not a burden to me.” Alexia interrupted, forehead wrinkling, eyebrows pulling together as she regarded you unhappily. Her hand tightened around yours. “You are not making me do anything. I am here because I care about you, and I want to take care of you.” 

You sniffled, shutting your eyes and leaning your head back. It was too much to look at her and have this conversation. Your head ached too much for that. 

“I know that, reasonably. But I can’t turn my brain off, I can’t make it stop overthinking and doubting and worrying and–” You broke off into a sob that you weren’t expecting. 

“Oh, mi amor.” Alexia murmured. She nudged you until you opened your eyes, wincing at the light. She opened her arms for you, drawing you in close to her chest. She was so warm, her hands sliding up the back of your shirt, pressing you even tighter against her. Your good cheek rested against her chest, and you inhaled the scent of her, somehow so much better even though you’d used the same body wash. “I wish I could make your brain be quiet.”

She seemed to pause for a moment, still gently rubbing your back as she thought. She wasn’t sure quite what to say, how to make you feel better. After a few seconds she leaned back slightly, her eyes meeting your teary ones. 

“Listen, amor. I love you. I would not be here if I did not want to be. There is no place in the whole world I would rather be right now than here with you, making sure you are okay. I know words can only do so much but please, baby. Try to believe me. I love you, I want to take care of you.” 

“I love you.” You whimpered, leaning back into her chest. She caught you easily, snuggly tucking you into her yet again. “I’m sorry, I’m trying, and it’s not that I don’t trust you,” 

“Shh, I know that mi amor. I am not offended.” Alexia reassured you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “It’s all alright, hmm? Everything is okay.” 

You forced yourself to hear it, to internalize it and believe it. Everything was okay. Alexia was here, that was all that mattered. Not the pounding in your head, or the dizziness you felt when you moved even the smallest amount. Not the gash on your cheek, and not the fact that sometimes it felt like your brain was working against you. It was just you and her, and you let that knowledge wash over you like a calming wave. 

Once your body stopped trembling and the tears stopped falling, Alexia made you lay back down. She pulled the covers up to your chin, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. 

“Now. Tell me what you need before we get some rest.” 

Hesitantly, you patted the bed next to you. The tension in the room fell away as Alexia beamed, bounding around to the other side so she could crawl in next to you. 

Everything had felt so jumbled and messed up since you’d gone down on the pitch earlier that evening. But as Alexia wrapped herself around you, pulling you back into her, the world seemed to put itself back on its axis. Your girlfriend flicked the light off, the two of you laying there in content silence for a minute. 

“I cannot believe you said I love you for the first time in the hospital.” Alexia whispered, breaking the quiet that had settled over the room. “Very cliche.” 

You burst out laughing, a laugh that made your cheek sting and your head pound, but you found you didn’t really care. 

“I can’t believe you got subbed off when I got hurt. Did you run off the pitch really dramatically?”

Alexia huffed, lightly pinching your side. “Cállate.” 

She wasn’t about to admit that it had been probably very dramatic. 

Alexia snuggled even closer into you, leaving a few kisses on the skin of your neck. “Goodnight, baby. I love you.” 

Tomorrow, you’d think about how good it felt to hear her say that to you. For now, you just placed your hand over hers where it rested on you, and squeezed. 

“I love you, too.” 

Alexia let the words wash over her, enjoying the feeling of you laying so happily in her arms, even if she hated that you were hurt. She loved when you were snuggly like this, and knew to savor the moment. 

Especially knowing that when she had to wake you up in a few hours, you would not be so pleased with her. She didn’t really care though. Not if it meant you were okay and safe and happy. 

—

it feels like its been FOREVER since ive written and i'm slightly self conscious of this but im very happy to be getting something done and posted 🙂❤️‍🩹

[ozzgin]

What if the Yandere school has some sort of event where they interact with students of the darling school and just like how our reader is a darling in the Yandere school they find a student of the darling school is a Yandere

You're an oblivious Darling going to Yandere School, and now you're paired up with...a Yandere hiding among Darlings. The absurdity goes on. Content: gender neutral reader, yandere horde, parody

[Yandere School] | [Yandere School 2] | [More Yandere]

He could immediately tell. You were a sheep among the wolves, and he was a wolf in sheep's clothing. He followed your movements with a predatory gaze, planning his approach.

He'd applied to Darling Academy out of sheer greed, hoping to find his soulmate. He searched, and stalked, and hounded, all in vain. Hell, he even had to repeat a year; it took him an ungodly amount of willpower to pass the damn kidnapping course.

"You're not surprised to discover your captor", the teacher had shouted, exasperated. "Unless you show me genuine shock, I cannot give you a passing grade"

"You can see her from a damn mile", he argued angrily, pointing at his darling classmate. She was supposed to simulate an attack, and he was to play the role of a clueless, helpless victim. Ridiculous.

Who would've thought his one and only was hiding in a Yandere School, of all places? So unforeseen, so unexpected, that he could not believe it to be anything but a fateful encounter. He glanced one final time at the enormous banner hanging against the school building:

"Annual Study Partnership Event: Yandere School x Darling Academy"

"You must be (Y/N). We've been paired together for the week. I'm in your care!", he beams cheerfully.

Despite his annoyance with Darling Academy, it proved to be somewhat useful in the end. Not only did it guide him to you, but it also polished his acting skills to near perfection. The teacher's office was guarded viciously given the previous attempts of the yandere students to cheat the system and have you on their team. Who would ever suspect a Darling? He simply waltzed in, scribbled his name on the event sheet, and left.

"I wouldn't be too excited", you confess, a little dejected. "I'm not...uh...the best yandere out there."

He pretends to sneeze, hiding the grin spreading across his face. Sweet, innocent thing that you are. Oh, don't worry your pretty head. He'll take care of everything.

The annual event consists of a week-long competition. A yandere student is paired with a darling counterpart, and the teams compete against each other for various activities. It's a learning experience for everyone involved, meant to hone the skills of a yandere and prepare the darlings for their future encounters.

First activity: tying up your darling.

Your eyes light up. For once, it's something you're good at. You hurry back to your partner, carrying the box filled with bondage rope, and nod towards the young man.

"Leave this to me", you state solemnly.

The timer starts, and you begin tying the knots. The yandere observes your process, completely infatuated. Your focused expression is downright adorable. Now, he could let you have your moment of victory. On the other hand...can he really waste this chance?

His fingers discreetly mess with some of the rope lying around. A little nudge here, another loop here. You're too absorbed in your work to notice anything.

You hear the bell and huff, exhausted. You wipe your forehead. This is it, the final touch. You hold onto the rope, and pull with all your strength. Suddenly you're dragged forward by an unseen force, and your face slams into your teammate's broad chest. You've tied the two of you together, somehow.

The other yanderes watch the display with a grimace.

(Y/N) is good with rope. This shouldn't have happened, they all think in unison. They glare at the darling pressed against you. Something isn't right. Is that man truly a darling? He feels more like a fellow rival.

"I'm so sorry", you sniff, humiliated.

He strokes your hair affectionately, reassuring you. It happens. The rope must've been faulty. You did your best.

He feels a cold shiver and tilts his head towards the bystanders, then smiles. It seems he isn't the only one who has fallen for you. Though he didn't expect it to be the whole school. Alas, what's life without a little competition?

"Come on, (Y/N). Let's get ready for the next part. I have a feeling we'll win this one", he says, winking at you playfully.

This must be the best week of his life.

[sheepispink]

thinking about sleeping next to simon thanks to @thatsamericasass24

“What’re you doing up this late?” His gruff voice rang out, empty bottle in hand coming to fill it in the sink here, but all rationality seemed to run to waste when he saw your state.

For some reason, you cant sleep in your bed tonight whether that’s because of a giant spider, a nightmare scaring you or your bed entirely breaking mid sleep. Either way, you’re shaking in the common room, hands wrapped around a warm mug as you recount the previous events like a broken tape playing the same part.

With that, he had ushered you into his bedroom, knowing he couldnt just leave you to tremble any longer on that couch. He never planned to sleep beside you, no, he would only lay next to you, make sure that shiver stopped. He settles in the bed first, making sure to be on the edge before patting the space next to him in the dark room, only the small lamplight glowing up the untouched sheets.

You let out a soft breath of relief as you shuffle beneath the covers beside him, only to tense up immediately when your leg collides with his. “Sorry!” You squeak out, shuffling forward only to meet your tipping point, your hand gripping the bedframe to stop you from completely falling off the mattress. You were seconds away from falling off altogether but you couldn’t fathom complaining so you just lay there, squashed into yourself to avoid touching him once more— your hands still holding on desperately so you dont fall off the bed altogether.

His teeth grit as he watches the situation unfold, clearly having underestimated just how large he was. Of course his own bed was more than sufficient for himself— he didnt really think twice when his arm fell off the bed in the mornings. so he figured the same would apply to you. Now he could only watch as you lay stiffly, trying your best not to be ungrateful for his help but it was a little difficult when you felt more on edge than before. Literally.

He taps your shoulder and motions for you to face him, which you do, rolling over when your shoulder brushes his arm once more, a flush on your cheek.. Looking down between you two, there’s only an inch of space at best, and even so, he’s not even in a comfortable position. “Sorry— i’ll just go back to mine-“ You begin but he shakes his head, settling himself properly in the bed until his arms bump yours.

“Hold onto me.” You blink in surprise and instinctively follow his instructions, reaching an arm out before he guides your hand to settle over the expanse his chest. He would’ve wrapped you up tightly with his own arms, keeping you safe in his strong grip. However, the last thing he’d want is to scare you off by being his usually rough self. This way you could choose what you wanted to do, without feeling pressured to comply.

And you do, your hand snug over his chest as your body slowly pushes more against his, right in the crook of him. “I think my arm is too short.” He loves the way your lips quirk up into a nervous grin, afraid yet still finding entertainment in the silliness of this situation. He shuffles onto his side instead, every inch of him pressing against your body as he moves. “You gonna keep being cheeky or can i hold you properly?” He knew what you were implying but it was best to be sure, especially from how shaken up you were earlier. “The latter, please.”

You let out a soft squeal as he wraps his large arm around you, his forearm pressing against your back as he tucks your head into his neck. “ ‘m not gonna let you fall off. Close yer eyes.” He squeezes you a little, forcing the breath you’ve been holding in the corner of your lungs for hours now to finally release. Your eyes flitter, the warm skin of his neck bringing colour back to your cheeks. The panic from before dissipates now, sleepy eyes drifting close as your hand reaches around, only landing on his side at best. “Night, Si.” You squeeze him just as tight, your nose nudging his neck and he chuckles, never having thought he’d ever be able to hold you like this.

“Night, sweetheart.”

[adieutristana]

painkiller; jinx x fem!reader

kinda nervous to post this one idk if it’s too nasty oops

characters included; jinx

summary; it’s that time of the month, and cramps have you down for the count. jinx is all too eager to help.

tags/warnings; dom!jinx, sub!reader, period sex, tribbing, dirty talk, NASTY, porn with plot (kinda)

men and minors dni.

fizz... BOOM!

another experiment blowing up in jinx's face, figuratively and literally. the girl huffs in light frustration as she lifts her goggles to rest atop her head, using her elbow to wipe gunpowder off her face. another failed experiment.

she's used to it by now, though- these things never go smoothly. it's a process of trial and error rather than one smooth testing sequence, one she's come to embrace. all the girl can do new is pick up the pieces of the last experiment, identify and fix her errors, and try again.

but the sound of you groaning behind her is making it increasingly hard to focus.

you're curled up on your side on jinx's cot, your knees tugged tight to your chest. you've been like this for the past hour or so, softly rocking yourself while you make little grunts in pain. you're on your period- and while your periods usually give you discomfort, this is the worst it's been in a while. bad enough that you didn't go to any of your classes today, and that's something you never do.

you'd already taken pain medicine, already tried a warm compress... nothing is helping. just you and your cramps, and you have to tough it out.

your girlfriend then turns around in her chair with a short huff. her brows are furrowed, and she crosses her arms over her chest.

"alright, what's all this fussing about?" she asks, clearly a bit impatient.

"i just.. ah," you grumble, trying to uncurl yourself just a bit. but as soon as you do another cramp hits, and you're forced to retreat back into your own embrace. "it's that time of the month. second day."

jinx's expression drops, and her eyes widen just a bit. second day- that's rough.

"oh," she purses her lips. "why didn't ya tell me? i could've been helping you out."

"you're busy. i didn't wanna distract you..."

jinx quickly scrambles to her feet, crouching beside her workbench to begin shuffling through drawers. it's a bit comical how she doesn't keep track of where things are in her own space, but she digs through regardless. first drawer is just a bunch of stray blueprints and paint cans, second is... toys, third is assorted magazines and books, and fourth is where she keeps first-aid supplies. supplies you'd given her after seeing her patch up her leg with a stapler.

"a-ha! got it!"

she scampers over to you, crouching beside you as she unwraps a heat pad and begins pushing up your shirt. you just sigh at the sight, though, and shake your head.

"i already tried a hot water bottle, babe."

"yeah, well that's a water bottle. this is a heating pad. maybe it'll be different."

she sticks the pad to your lower stomach, applying a bit of pressure (earning a few giggles from you) before she tugs your shirt back down. the girl steps back, placing her hands on her hips in that confident way she always does.

"ta-da! it should start working in..." she glances at the back of the box again. "fifteen minutes! then you'll feel all better. no more pesky cramps."

she gives your arm one last firm pat before standing up and making her way back to the workbench. it's seconds before you can hear a blowtorch and metal clinking, sounds you've become all too familiar with. laid on your back now, you can only close your eyes while you wait for the heat pad to start working- that is, if it does work. you've tried everything you can at this point, but it still feels like you're being ripped from the inside out. your stomach hurts, your lower back hurts, you've been feeling nauseous on and off the entire day. thankfully, it's off right now.

waiting is the hard part, but as you feel the heat spread over your lower stomach, it does work. not to the extent you'd like, but you'll take anything at this point. the pain eases over the next few minutes while the sounds of jinx working fade into the background. you're a bit more mobile now, able to sit up (although with a slouch still)- but you can watch jinx, you could put something on the tv if you wanted to.

for now, though, you'll just stay laid on your side with the heat pad working its magic. the girl in front of you wheels herself around swiftly, tweaking blueprints and humming to herself while she works on.. something. she'd told you she was trying to concentrate the hex crystal's energy into other mediums, but nothing was successful yet. though knowing jinx and how smart she is, how resourceful, it's a matter of time before she figures something out.

she then swivels her chair around, facing you with wide eyes before she wheels herself over to you. the girl stops right in front of her cot, placing a hand over the pad on your stomach.

"feeling better?" she hums.

"for the most part," you murmur, giving her a weak smile. "it still hurts a little, but i expected that."

but jinx's face just twists a bit, and she wrinkles her nose in discontentment. "mm... that's no good. the pain should be gone, like- totally gone."

"babe, really, i don't expect this thing to work miracles."

"but toooots, i don't like seeing you hurting!" she nearly whines, and leans forward over her knees in thought. her face twists again, a look you've come to recognize. she's trying to figure something out, ever the problem-solver.

one thing you've come to recognize, and love about jinx is that she's fiercely protective. she can't stand the thought of anyone or anything hurting you, even if it's your own uterus once a month. she cares, she only wants the best for you, she only wants to see you happy. you rocking yourself in her cot to ease the cramps that are wracking your body? no good.

then you hear her gasp, and snap her fingers.

"i got it!"

she then climbs on the cot with you, swinging a leg over to straddle your lower half. jinx is wearing a wide, toothy grin, as if she's just cracked the code.

"i know what'll help your little... dilemma," she chuckles, her fingernails trailing down your stomach towards the waistband of your shorts. her tone is smooth, calculated- the kind that comes right before trouble. the coldness of the metal finger sends a shiver down your spine, but she stops just short of the elastic to look back up at you. "if you'll let me."

but it sends your mind reeling. she can't seriously be suggesting that, can she?

"baby, i'm on my period," you stress.

"yeah, i know that. and?"

"and, it's my second day, and there's a lot of blood, and i," you huff, crossing your arms over your chest with a light frown. you'd be lying if you said that this wasn't enticing. you can feel your heartbeat quickening and the hairs on your arms stand on end, but you can't. it's too messy, probably too risky. "i feel gross..."

but jinx just scoffs, rolling her rosy eyes as if it's nothing to her.

"okay, so we'll put down some towels. no big deal." she pokes your side playfully. "you're anything but gross, toots. come onnn, it'll make you feel good! they say orgasms make cramps better. like... an organic painkiller."

you're still not fully sold, though, and jinx just sighs in mild exasperation. you want this, you do. but it'll be messy, things could go wrong, you feel the furthest thing from sexy right now. she leans down, pressing a gentle kiss against the pulse point of your neck, eliciting a gasp from you.

"baby, i wanna do this," she murmurs, plump lips brushing the skin of your neck. "i'll make you feel real good, promise."

and damn it, she's convincing. she's offering.

"...okay," you whisper, swallowing as you glance down at jinx. "but we put those towels down."

her lips curve into a wide grin, and she just nods, giving a mock-salute while she crawls off you. "you got it!"

she's back in a matter of seconds with a few already paint-stained towels, gesturing for you to lift your hips- which you do, so she can place them down. she's then crawling over you again, one arm on either side of your head while she gazes down. like a predator about to pounce on their prey, she's smiling at you like she's about to devour you. saying she wants to is an understatement.

you don't have more than a split second to think before she surges down, and her lips crash into yours- already heated and quick, her lips moving against yours with fervor. you gasp, trying to match her eager pace, but your efforts seem futile. even with the lingering aches, you're learning rather quickly that jinx doesn't plan on being gentle tonight.

dark lips trail over your jawline, peppering down the expanse of your neck while she feels you already beginning to squirm. as if jinx's ego needs to get any bigger, her gapped teeth nip at your skin a few times, her hands beginning to run up and down your sides. gripping you, digging into the fat on your hips for just a moment before she takes the edge of the heat pad.

"you won't need this," she murmurs against your neck, before slowly pulling it off. the removal stings, adhesive gripping your skin, but it's over in a matter of seconds.

not wasting any time, she resumes kissing down your soft skin. trailing to your collarbones, then right over your heart- fingers toying with the hemline of your top while she continues exploring you with her lips alone. it's intense, it's fast, but throughout all of the rough passion you can tell how much jinx cares. she slowly slips the fabric over your head with you eagerly lifting your arms to assist her.

her bangs brushing over your ribs tickle a bit, but you can only softly gasp while she continues her descent. down your sternum, reaching one of her hands towards your bare breast to pinch your nipple- your back arching the slightest bit into her touch.

"yeah? feel good?" she chuckles, rolling the bud between her thumb and forefinger.

"mhm," you nod, a low whine rumbling in the back of your throat.

"mm... good. you know i love these pretty tits."

she lets out a satisfied hum, giving your nipple one last hard pinch before she drags her tongue down the valley between your breasts.

it's electric, the feeling of her warm tongue on your skin. her skin is cold, but her presence is so warm, so inviting. you wish you could stay wrapped in her embrace forever. that you'd never have to give up jinx's touch, no matter how calloused her fingers may be or how gruff her words.

she leaves one final kiss on your lower stomach, right over your uterus- as if to kiss the soreness away, before hooking her cold fingers into the waistband of your shorts to hastily pull them down. they're discarded quickly, as are your panties. you're already leaking a bit over the towels, but that's what they're there for, aren't they?

"so pretty... you're shakin' already. i haven't even touched ya, trinket!"

"i- i can't help it," you breathe out, but jinx just chuckles.

the anticipation builds, and builds, but to your surprise, jinx leans back to sit on her knees and begin undressing herself. her cropped top is the first to go, revealing those perky tits you love so much. your throat goes dry at the sight, but she quickly unbuckles her belt and slips off her pants, leaving her in just a pair of black panties as she crawls back over you.

she then giggles to herself, before slowly removing the final garment, leaving her bare. she's enjoying this, observing your confused expression. and then- she slots herself between your legs, and your eyes widen.

"jinx, you're-"

but she cuts you off with a soft 'shh' as she scoots another inkling close to you, cores not quite touching yet.

"just let me do my thing, baby," she drawls, a lazy smile on her face.

"but you'll get all messy," you argue. it's a weak protest and you know it, but you don't want to cause more trouble than necessary.

"you're adorable," she huffs, rolling her eyes. "all worried about making a mess. that's half the fun, toots!"

and then her heat presses to yours, and you gasp. she starts moving-slowly, tentatively, as if to test the waters. your hands hastily find the dip of her waist, gripping on for stability while she grinds against yours. you feel a brush of your clits, then another- and with your heightened hormones, it sends you spiraling.

"baby, i- haah.."

"yeeeeeah," she drawls out, looking down between both of your legs. it's downright vulgar, how your needy pussies are pressed right against each other, grinding and sliding together with wet squelches as blood distributes between the two of you. "you hear that? how wet you are? she's tellin' me how bad she wants this- mmph.."

your hips move in tandem with hers. the more you go on, the less you're able to hold back, it's everything you didn't know you needed.

the pace becomes more and more frenzied with each passing moment, jinx grabbing at your tits, fingernails digging into your asscheeks, licking stripes up your neck while your hands move to her peach of an ass to push her further against you. your head falls back if only for a second, lewd moans and whines escaping you. you can feel it- there's a filthy mess between the two of you, spread across both of your inner thighs and a bit of jinx's lower stomach. but neither of you can be bothered to care.

she's panting, lips parted while your eyes nearly glaze over with the feeling. the sweat alone is causing your mascara to run, but it only serves to make the girl more desperate. seeing you so utterly wrecked, it does something to her.

"gonna fuck you real good- ngh, make ya forget allll about those cramps," she breathes out, nails leaving little 'c' shapes in the flesh of your hips. "don't stop, don't you fucking dare stop!"

"gods, please," you whimper, your head falling forward onto her shoulder.

your soaking cunt ruts against hers with the urgency of a needy mutt, chasing ecstasy like your life depends on it. your comfort does, at least. a broken medley of 'pleasepleaseplease's leave you, although you're too far gone at this point to tell exactly what you're begging for. for her to keep going? for your release? and you just hear high-pitched whines right in your ear, breathy and shrill. the rasp of your girlfriend's voice never fails to make you squirm.

"please, it's so good, so good-"

"i know, baby, fuck-" she grunts, another sharp brush of your clits making her hips stutter. her gapped teeth sink into her lip, nearly hard enough to draw blood. "uuhh, you feel so fucking good! shit, baby! you've- ah, got no idea how good this pussy is!"

you're near the edge, the contracting in your lower stomach replaced by a familiar coiling. the towels below you are a painting of crimson, your bodies both covered in a thin sheen of sweat while your needy pussies meet again and again. the knot gets tighter and tighter with each movement, threatening to break at any second-

"uungh, jinx, i'm gonna- gonna!"

she then lunges forward to crash her lips against yours, immediately shoving her hot tongue past your lips like she wants to consume you. it's a whirlwind of teeth and tongue, clashing together like a thunderstorm while your tongue swirls with hers, explores her mouth, lips moving with a speed you can't track down- drool dripping down your chin. and still, the movements don't stop.

you can tell she's close too, by the way her toned abs clench with each grind. but she's trying to get you there first, ever dedicated to helping you.

you pull back with a high cry of her name, feeling the thread finally snap- and your vision goes white for a second. it's as if the rest of the world is completely gone, reduced only to you and the girl pressed against your body.

"jinx- aaah! shit, shit! cumming, cumming-"

and you feel her follow right after, her breath trembling and hips stuttering as she feels her orgasm wash over her.

"gah, fuuuuck! that's it- that's, ohh!"

your synchronized moans sound like something out of a dirty movie, low and needy and pathetic, but so fucking delicious. her bangs stuck to her forehead, spittle dripping down your chin, blood and cum mixed between your cunts and inner thighs- and it's perfect.

a moment of silence follows, both of you panting out. neither of you move, just letting the moment linger. the mess between you ever-present. your mind is too hazy to make out exactly what just happened, flushed and sweaty- but the cramps are gone. completely gone.

"...feel better?" jinx breathes out, voice gravelly.

"yeah," you nod, slowly. "a lot better."

[3hks]

How do I write a character to be a little mean and surly but with hints of softness, without making them annoying?

Ahaha, hello! When I saw your ask, I immediately jumped on it because it's such a fun question! I present to you...

How to Write a Surly (Yet Soft) Character Who ISN'T Annoying

Mean For a Reason + What Makes Them Appear Mean

One thing that is incredibly important when writing characters with a "worse" personality is considering what shaped their personality. Your character should not be rude just because you want them to. Add some background and context to their attitude. Oftentimes, this rudeness serves as a defense mechanism.

Additionally, consider what makes your character appear mean. Do they bully people? Are they inconsiderate of others? Or perhaps do they simply state the truths that people do not want to hear? A "mean" person can look like many things, and not all of them are stereotypical bullies.

Apologies

One of the best ways to showcase character development (in this case, it might be revealing some softness) for a surly character is through apologies.

Having a character who's normally stuck-up, rude, and/or inconsiderate genuinely apologize and realize their wrongdoings is a HUGE moment. It might not cause a monumental shift in the story, but it demonstrates that they feel guilty, responsible, and that they care enough to overcome their pride to apologize.

Awkward, Not Reluctant

A common thing I see when authors write a poor-tempered character apologizing, for example, is that they often seem very reluctant to do so. While the reluctance does make sense because they're doing something they are unfamiliar with, it becomes one of those things that can get annoying when overdone.

So instead of making your character too reluctant to do something nice to someone else, make them more awkward. Reluctance creates a sense that the character doesn't exactly want to be there but is doing it, nonetheless. Although it can seem charming, you don't want your character to appear to be forced to be kind.

However, if you make them more awkward/nervous when apologizing or helping someone, you demonstrate that they WANT to be there, they're genuinely putting effort into trying, despite it still being something that's out of their comfort zone. And honestly? That looks way better.

Avoid The Irrevocable Point

Before I start this, remember that all of these points are my opinion, and this is definitely one of them. If you disagree, that's alright! You're never obligated to listen to everything I say, and many things depend on context!

When writing a poor-tempered character, it's easy to get carried away. Despite that, I suggest being careful about the actions they take. No matter how rude they are, they should not go past a point that's irredeemable for them. Now, this point depends on many factors, but as the author, hopefully you can tell. It's just generally harder to rebuild their reputation as a character and any attempts to do so later on may seem insincere when trying to fix a mistake that's simply too bad to be fixed.

Subtle Actions

Realistically speaking, it's hard for someone to admit something they're uncomfortable with admitting. This applies to your character: verbal forms of kindness are often more difficult for "mean" characters to express.

Thus, I suggest using small, subtle actions to show that they care. It doesn't have to be saving a child from a building on fire or even helping an old grandma cross the road. It can be something like paying for a friend's meal without asking, leaving a bottle of water on an athlete's bench, or just listening to someone.

Pattern of Softness

A surly character is, by definition, not the nicest person, and they are definitely not going to be nice to everyone, ESPECIALLY in the beginning.

What makes your character feel empathetic/sympathetic towards someone? It could be an event someone went through, a few key traits, or their general personality that makes your mean character turn soft. They will not be soft towards everyone, but they might act nicer to those that fall into those specific categories.

It might help to remember that we tend to feel bad towards people who have experienced something similar to us. If it's not something we can't relate to very well, we'll feel less sorrow on the other's behalf.

Don't Make It Forced

When I say "don't make it forced", I mean it in two ways.

For starters, please don't force your character into being extra rude or being nice. You want it to be as natural as possible; remember that you determine your character!

However, I also mean that you should make your character feel forced to be nice. If they wish to correct past mistakes, then yes, there should be solid motivation, but don't force them into feeling like they have to change.

Remember: the key to all this is genuity. An annoying character, no matter their trope, often appears annoying if they lack sincereness.

I hope this helped!

Happy writing~

3hks <3

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

<<Previous Next>>

Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️

Chapter 4: Finding Your Place

Your alarm chirped gently at 6:00 AM, pulling you from a dream you couldn't quite remember but that left you with a lingering sense of warmth. For a disorienting moment, you stared at the unfamiliar ceiling before remembering where you were: the ATEEZ guesthouse, your new home.

"First day," you murmured to yourself, reaching up to check your scent blocker patch—still securely in place. The action had become so habitual you often did it without thinking, especially when anticipating stressful situations.

You slipped out of bed and padded to the window, pulling back the curtains to reveal the soft light of dawn spreading across the garden. The main house was still dark, its occupants likely still asleep. According to the preliminary schedule Minwoo had sent, most of the members wouldn't need to be up until 7:30 for a 9:00 AM meeting at the company.

After a quick shower, you dressed carefully in professional but comfortable attire—black slacks, a crisp button-up shirt, and low heels that would allow you to move quickly if needed. As you applied a light layer of makeup, you ran through the day's schedule in your mind, mentally preparing for your first official day as ATEEZ's assistant.

Seonghwa's thoughtful basket of essentials meant you could enjoy a simple breakfast in your kitchen rather than having to venture out. As you sipped your coffee, you reviewed the notes you'd made from the materials Minwoo had sent over, committing key details to memory.

At precisely 6:45 AM, you left the guesthouse and made your way to the main house, the morning air crisp against your skin. You'd been given a key card to access the house, but hesitated briefly before using it. It felt strange to enter someone else's home while they might still be sleeping.

Just as you were debating whether to knock or use the card, the door opened, revealing Hongjoong, already dressed and looking surprisingly alert for the early hour.

"Good morning," he greeted you with a warm smile that sent a flutter through your stomach. "I thought I saw someone approaching from my window."

"I hope I'm not too early," you replied, suddenly second-guessing your timing. "Manager Minwoo suggested I arrive by 7:00 to prepare for the day."

Hongjoong stepped aside to let you enter. "Not at all. I'm usually the first one up, but Seonghwa shouldn't be far behind. The others..." He chuckled softly. "Let's just say waking them is an art form you'll need to master quickly."

Hongjoong led you through the quiet house to the kitchen, where the rich aroma of brewing coffee filled the air. Despite having already had a cup at the guesthouse, you found yourself accepting his offer of another. There was something intimate about sharing this early morning moment before the chaos of the day began.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, leaning against the counter as he handed you a steaming mug.

"Surprisingly, yes," you admitted. "I usually have trouble sleeping in new places, but I was so exhausted from moving that I fell asleep almost immediately."

Hongjoong's smile was tinged with something like satisfaction. "I'm glad. The first day is always the hardest—getting oriented, meeting everyone. Today should be a bit more structured."

You were about to respond when Seonghwa entered the kitchen, his hair slightly damp from a recent shower but otherwise immaculately put together. His eyes brightened upon seeing you.

"Y/n, good morning," he greeted, his voice warm. "You're an early riser too, I see."

"I wanted to get a head start," you explained. "There's a lot to learn."

Seonghwa nodded approvingly. "A good approach. I'm about to start breakfast for everyone—would you like something? I noticed you've already got coffee."

"Oh, thank you, but I ate at the guesthouse," you replied, touched by the offer. "Those groceries you brought over yesterday were perfect."

A pleased expression crossed Seonghwa's face. "I'm glad they were useful. Now, about waking the others..." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "They should be up in thirty minutes if we want to avoid a last-minute rush."

Hongjoong sighed dramatically. "And here's your first real challenge as our assistant, Y/n. Getting six sleepy alphas out of bed and ready on time is no small feat."

Your first lesson in ATEEZ's morning routine was both enlightening and amusing. Seonghwa, you quickly learned, had developed a systematic approach to waking each member based on their individual habits.

"Yunho is usually easy—just knock and call his name," Seonghwa explained as you followed him down the hallway. "Jongho too, though he might need a second reminder. Wooyoung and San are the real challenges."

"They sleep deeply?" you asked, mentally taking notes for future reference.

"More like they actively resist waking up," Hongjoong interjected from behind you, amusement evident in his voice. "Wooyoung once pretended to be sleepwalking to avoid a morning schedule."

True to Seonghwa's prediction, Yunho responded to a simple knock and call, his deep voice answering with a cheerful, "I'm up, I'm up!" Jongho, in the next room, took a second knock but then emerged almost immediately, already dressed in workout clothes.

"Morning run?" Seonghwa asked as Jongho greeted you with a polite bow.

"Just some quick exercises," Jongho replied. "Good morning, Y/n-noona. Ready for your first day?"

The honorific caught you by surprise—you had forgotten you were only a little older than him. "As ready as I'll ever be," you replied with a smile.

Yeosang proved to be a moderate challenge—requiring multiple knocks and some gentle coaxing, but eventually responding with a quiet acknowledgment.

When you reached Mingi's door, Seonghwa knocked firmly several times before calling his name. Just as he was about to knock again, the door swung open—revealing a sleepy-eyed Mingi wearing only low-hanging sweatpants, his broad chest and defined abs completely exposed.

Your eyes widened involuntarily, heat rushing to your cheeks as you found yourself momentarily frozen. The morning light from the hallway window highlighted the contours of his muscular torso, you could feel your omega stir before you quickly averted your gaze, focusing intently on the notepad in your hands.

"Hyung, I'm up, I'm—" Mingi's sleepy voice cut off abruptly as he registered your presence. "Oh! Y/n!"

You risked a glance up to see his eyes now fully alert, a deep flush spreading across his face as he hastily retreated into his room. He emerged seconds later wearing a hastily donned t-shirt, his expression a mixture of embarrassment and apology.

"I didn't realize you were... I mean, I thought it was just Seonghwa-hyung," he explained, running a hand through his impressively tousled hair. His sleepy smile was oddly endearing despite the awkward moment. "Sorry about that."

"No problem," you managed to say professionally, though you could still feel warmth in your cheeks. "We're just doing morning wake-up calls."

Hongjoong, who had witnessed the entire exchange from further down the hallway, cleared his throat softly, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Our new angel of organization," Mingi greeted you with exaggerated formality, clearly trying to move past the moment. His attempt at dignity was undermined by both his lingering blush and a massive yawn. "Please have mercy on us this morning."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension dissolving. "I'll consider it, since it's my first day."

San and Wooyoung, however, lived up to their reputation. Seonghwa knocked repeatedly on San's door with no response, finally opening it to reveal a room plunged in darkness by blackout curtains and a San-shaped lump buried under blankets.

"San-ah," Seonghwa called firmly. "Meeting at 9:00. You need to get up now."

A muffled groan emerged from the pile of bedding. "Five more minutes, hyung."

Seonghwa glanced at you with a look that clearly said, *See what I mean?* before approaching the bed. With practiced efficiency, he pulled back the curtains, allowing morning light to flood the room.

The reaction was immediate—San retreated further under the covers with a dramatic whine. "It burns!"

"It's just sunshine," Seonghwa replied drily. "Y/n is here to help with the morning routine. Don't make her first impression of you be this pitiful sight."

At the mention of your name, San's head emerged from the blankets, his hair sticking up at impossible angles but his eyes suddenly alert. "Y/n? Oh!" He sat up quickly, making a futile attempt to smooth his hair. "Good morning. I didn't realize... I'll be ready in ten minutes."

Hongjoong, who had been watching from the doorway, caught your eye with a knowing smirk. "Amazing how that works, isn't it?"

Wooyoung proved to be the final boss of the morning wake-up challenge. Not only did he fail to respond to knocks, calls, and light, but when Seonghwa finally managed to rouse him, he immediately tried to go back to sleep the moment Seonghwa turned his back.

"I've tried everything," Seonghwa confessed to you as Wooyoung's soft snores resumed behind him. "Short of dumping water on him, which I've been tempted to do more than once."

"Maybe I have an idea," you said, a sudden inspiration striking you. You stepped into the hallway and pulled out your phone, searching for something specific. When you found it, you returned to Wooyoung's doorway and pressed play.

The opening notes of ATEEZ's most recent title track filled the room at full volume. Almost immediately, Wooyoung's eyes flew open and he sat up.

"That's my part coming up!" he exclaimed, suddenly fully awake. When his brain caught up with reality and he realized what was happening, he stared at you in astonishment. "That was sneaky."

You shrugged, trying not to smile too broadly at your success. "But effective."

Seonghwa looked impressed. "Well, that's a new technique to add to our arsenal."

Wooyoung flopped back dramatically but kept his eyes open. "I feel betrayed by our new assistant already," he lamented, though his lips were twitching with suppressed laughter. "But I respect the strategy."

---

By 8:15 AM, all eight members were gathered in the kitchen, in various states of wakefulness but all dressed and fed thanks to Seonghwa's efficient breakfast preparation. You sat at the counter, reviewing the day's schedule with Hongjoong while the others ate.

"After the 9:00 AM meeting, you all have dance practice until noon," you recited, checking your notes. "Jongho has vocal training for an hour after that, a light lunch then the photoshoot for that clothing brand at 3:00 PM, dinner break, then the variety show filming begins at 8:00 PM."

Hongjoong nodded, looking impressed by your thorough grasp of their complex schedule. "That's right. And where will you be throughout all this?"

"Manager Minwoo suggested I shadow different members throughout the day to get a feel for the activities," you explained. "Starting with him at the morning meeting."

"Good plan," Hongjoong approved. "Just don't let Wooyoung convince you to skip anything to get bubble tea instead."

From across the kitchen, Wooyoung protested through a mouthful of eggs. "I would never!"

"You tried four times last month alone," Seonghwa corrected, setting down a plate of additional toast in the center of the table.

The easy banter continued as breakfast wrapped up. You observed the dynamics carefully, noting who needed reminders to eat (Yeosang, who seemed easily distracted), who might need extra time to get ready (Wooyoung, obviously), and who could be counted on to help maintain order (Seonghwa and Jongho).

By 8:30, everyone was loading into the two company vans that had arrived to transport you all to KQ Entertainment. You found yourself in the second van with Yunho, San, Wooyoung, and Jongho, while Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yeosang, and Mingi took the first.

"So, Y/n," Yunho began conversationally as the van pulled away from the house, "Are you ready for today? Nervous at all?”

You considered Yunho's question thoughtfully. "I’m excited. I like environments where things are always changing," you replied. "And I enjoy supporting creative people—helping build the structure that allows their talents to shine."

San, who had claimed the seat beside you, nodded appreciatively. "That's a good way of looking at it. Our last assistant was good, but he always seemed stressed by the unpredictability."

"That's because Wooyoung kept changing plans without telling him," Jongho pointed out from the front passenger seat.

Wooyoung clutched his chest in mock offense. "Why am I being attacked this morning? I'm an absolute delight to work with."

The driver, who had clearly been with them for some time, coughed in a way that sounded suspiciously like a suppressed laugh.

"You'll see," Yunho told you with a grin. "Working with us is never boring, that's for sure."

"I look forward to the challenge," you replied with a smile, genuinely meaning it. Despite the complexity of the schedule and the unique personalities you'd be managing, there was something exciting about the prospect.

San studied your face with curious intensity. "You really aren't intimidated, are you? Most people would be nervous about suddenly being responsible for eight alphas' schedules."

You shrugged, careful to keep your expression neutral. "I've worked with artist management before. The key is treating everyone as individuals first, rather than focusing on status."

"Smart," Jongho commented approvingly. "Though I should warn you, during comeback preparations, all of us can get a bit... intense."

"Especially Hongjoong-hyung," Wooyoung added. "He barely sleeps during production periods."

You filed this information away for future reference. "I'll keep that in mind. Any other warnings I should know about?"

What followed was an enthusiastic rundown of member quirks that you suspected was equal parts helpful and exaggerated. According to Wooyoung, San became "clingy like a koala" when tired, Yunho stress-ate chocolate cookies before performances, and Yeosang sometimes disappeared for hours when he needed alone time.

“And Mingi?” You asked hesitantly, not wanting to seem too eager. Your omega seemed surprisingly interested in the alpha. 

Yunho’s eyes lit up with amusement. “Ah, Mingi-ah. He’s actually the most affectionate of all of us, believe it or not. Super tactile—loves hugs and casual touches, especially when he’s comfortable with someone.” He leaned forward slightly, dropping his voice. “But he’s also really conscious of his alpha energy, so he tries to tone it down around new people.“

“He composes in the middle of the night,” San added. “You might hear him pacing sometimes—when he gets a melody stuck in his head, he can’t sleep until he works it out.”

“And he’s weirdly sensitive about his cooking,” Wooyoung chimed in with a grin. “He tries so hard but somehow always manages to burn something. Never criticize his food unless you want to see a six-foot-tall alpha pout for days.”

“Don’t believe everything they tell you,” Jongho advised from the front seat, though he was smiling. “They exaggerate.”

By the time you arrived at the company building, you were laughing and mentally cataloging all these insights, already feeling more equipped to navigate your new role.

---

The morning meeting at KQ Entertainment was your first glimpse into the professional side of ATEEZ's world. The conference room held not only the eight members but also Manager Minwoo, several production staff, the company's PR director, and two choreographers. You sat beside Minwoo, taking detailed notes as various topics were discussed—the upcoming comeback timeline, concept direction, individual schedules, and potential international appearances.

You noticed how the dynamics shifted in this professional setting. Hongjoong took the lead in most discussions, his leader role clearly established, while Seonghwa offered thoughtful input on logistics. The others contributed when their areas of expertise were relevant—Yunho on dance elements, Mingi and Hongjoong on production aspects, Jongho on vocal arrangements.

"And we've added Y/n L/n to our team as the new group assistant," Minwoo announced toward the end of the meeting, gesturing to you. "She'll be handling coordination between departments and managing the members' schedules going forward."

All eyes turned to you, and you straightened slightly, offering a professional smile. "I look forward to working with everyone to support ATEEZ's activities," you said, your voice clear and confident despite the sudden attention.

The PR director, a sharp-eyed woman named Director Kang, assessed you with interest. "Good timing. With the comeback and world tour planning underway, we needed someone to keep these eight in line." Her tone was strict but her eyes held a hint of warmth.

"I'm up for the challenge," you assured her, earning approving nods from several staff members.

As the meeting concluded, people began filtering out of the room. Minwoo hung back with you, providing additional context for some of the discussions.

"You'll be joining them at dance practice," he explained, consulting his tablet. "Then the photoshoot. I've arranged for you to mainly observe the activities today to get a comprehensive view of their schedules."

You nodded, gathering your notes. "That sounds perfect. I appreciate the thorough onboarding."

"You seem to be adjusting well already," Minwoo observed. "Usually new staff are overwhelmed by day one."

"I'm sure I'll have my moments," you admitted with a small smile. "But I work best when jumping right in."

Minwoo appeared satisfied with your response. "Good attitude. That's why Hongjoong was so confident about hiring you." He glanced at his watch. "The dance studio is on the third floor. The others should be heading there now."

---

The dance studio was a large space with mirrored walls and polished floors, already filled with alpha energy as they all warmed up under the choreographer's guidance. You slipped inside quietly, taking a seat against the wall where you could observe without being in the way.

Wooyoung spotted you immediately, waving enthusiastically mid-stretch. "Y/n! Come to witness greatness?"

The choreographer, who introduced himself as Hyunwoo, nodded acknowledgment in your direction. "You're the new assistant? Good. Maybe you can help keep them focused. Especially that one." He pointed at Wooyoung, who grinned unrepentantly.

"I'll do my best," you promised, settling in to watch.

What followed was a revelation. The playful, sometimes chaotic energy you'd witnessed at the house transformed into laser-focused precision as soon as the music started. Yunho's tall frame moved with surprising grace and power, while San's performance exuded an intensity that seemed at odds with his usually gentle demeanor. Even Wooyoung, for all his morning resistance, executed complex movements with sharp accuracy.

You found yourself captivated by their dedication, the way they repeated sequences without complaint, fine-tuning details most people would never notice. When they paused for water after forty-five minutes of continuous practice, all three were breathing hard but immediately discussing improvements.

"The transition after the bridge needs to be tighter," Yunho was saying, demonstrating a subtle adjustment to his movement.

San nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "And I think we're slightly off-beat during the chorus formation change."

"How are you finding it?" Wooyoung asked, suddenly appearing beside you with a water bottle in hand. "Boring? Amazing? Both?"

"Impressive," you replied honestly. "The difference between your practice mode and casual mode is striking."

Wooyoung beamed at the compliment. "We're professionals. Don't let the breakfast chaos fool you."

"I'm starting to see that," you acknowledged with a smile.

The choreographer called them back, and Wooyoung rejoined the others. You continued watching, occasionally making notes about potential schedule considerations—the physical intensity meant they would need adequate recovery time, proper meals, and possibly physiotherapy sessions during heavy practice periods.

By the time practice ended at, you had a new appreciation for the physical demands of their work. As they gathered their things, you approached with towels you'd noticed stacked by the door, offering one to each.

t's the small things, you reminded yourself.

"Thanks," Hongjoong said, accepting the towel gratefully. His eyes held appreciation that seemed to extend beyond the simple gesture. "How are you finding everything so far?"

"Informative," you replied. "And impressive. You all work incredibly hard."

Something like pride flashed across his face. "We try. This is just a regular practice day—comeback preparation gets much more intense."

"I'll be prepared," you assured him, already mentally adjusting your expectations of what "intense" might look like in their world.

---

The afternoon brought a change of pace with the photoshoot for a clothing brand. While the morning had been relatively structured with the meeting and practice, the photoshoot at an industrial warehouse-turned-studio was more chaotic, with multiple staff buzzing around, stylists fussing over outfits, and makeup artists working on touch-ups between shots.

You found your place quickly, liaising between the photography director and the members, keeping track of shot lists, and ensuring everyone stayed on schedule. It was the kind of organized chaos you excelled in navigating—anticipating needs before they arose and solving small problems before they became larger ones.

"Water?" you offered to Yeosang after he finished his individual shots, noting how he'd been under the hot lights for nearly forty minutes.

He accepted with a small but genuine smile. "Thank you. You're very observant."

"Part of the job," you replied, though his quiet acknowledgment was satisfying.

When the photography director suggested the set rotation order be changed, you smoothly coordinated with the styling team to ensure outfits were ready in the new sequence, preventing what could have been a thirty-minute delay.

"I'm impressed," Manager Minwoo commented, appearing beside you as you updated the schedule notation on your tablet. "You've found your rhythm quickly."

"It helps that they're professionals," you said, gesturing toward the members who were all focused on their tasks despite the long day.

"Don't sell yourself short," Minwoo countered. "Not everyone can keep track of eight different personalities and all these moving parts on day one."

You smiled, accepting the compliment with a nod. "Thank you. I'm enjoying the challenge."

As the group shots began, you found yourself watching the dynamics with growing familiarity. Seonghwa quietly adjusted Wooyoung's collar when the stylist was busy elsewhere. Hongjoong subtly directed the others with small gestures, ensuring everyone was positioned optimally. Jongho maintained his serious expression until San whispered something that made him break into a reluctant smile, immediately lightening the mood for everyone.

When the photographer called for a brief set change, Mingi approached where you were reviewing notes beside the monitor.

"How's your first day going?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture you were beginning to recognize as a habit when he felt slightly uncertain. 

"It's going well," you replied with a smile. "Just trying to absorb all the information."

"You seem like you've been doing this for years already," he said, and there was genuine admiration in his voice. "Usually new staff look overwhelmed by now, but you're just... handling everything."

You felt a small flush of pleasure at his observation. "That's kind of you to say. I'm sure I'll make plenty of mistakes as I learn the ropes."

"We all do," Mingi shrugged, then lowered his voice conspirationally. "Sorry again about this morning, by the way. Not exactly the most professional second impression."

You couldn't help the slight color that rose to your cheeks at the memory of him shirtless in the doorway. "It's fine. Occupational hazard of living and working in the same space, I suppose."

Mingi's smile widened, a hint of unexpected confidence breaking through his earlier uncertainty. "Next time I'll try to be more properly dressed. Or not. Depends on whether you enjoyed the view."

The teasing comment caught you off guard, and you felt your blush deepen. Before you could formulate a response that maintained professional boundaries while acknowledging the light flirtation, the photography director called Mingi back for the next shot.

Mingi winked at you before turning away, leaving you slightly flustered but with a small smile tugging at your lips despite your efforts to remain composed. The brief interaction had sparked something warm in your chest that you quickly tried to suppress. He was your colleague, one of your eight alpha employers. Lines needed to be clear.

Yet as you watched him return to the set, moving with easy confidence into the next pose, you couldn't quite ignore the subtle pull you felt toward him—similar to, yet somehow distinct from, what you'd experienced with each of the other members.

---

"Dinner in twenty minutes!" The production assistant announced as the photoshoot finally wrapped up. "Please be ready to move to the variety show filming after you eat."

You checked your watch—nearly 7:00 PM. The photoshoot had run almost an hour over schedule, cutting into the dinner break before the variety show filming. Anticipating potential issues, you approached the catering table where staff were setting up food.

"Excuse me," you said politely to the head caterer. "Is it possible to have some food boxed separately? The members might need to eat while getting ready for the next schedule since we're running behind."

The caterer nodded, appreciating your foresight. "No problem. We can prepare eight boxes."

"Thank you," you said gratefully, then turned to find Manager Minwoo, who was conferring with the production team. "Minwoo-ssi, I've arranged for boxed meals in case we need to eat during transport or makeup."

He looked up from his tablet with an approving nod. "Good thinking. The variety show PD just called—they're ready for us whenever we arrive, but they can't delay the start time past 8:15."

"I'll let the members know we're on a tight schedule," you offered, already moving toward where most of them were gathered, removing microphones and thanking the photography staff.

Seonghwa noticed your approach and the slight furrow in your brow. "Schedule adjustment?"

"We're running a bit tight for the variety show," you confirmed. "I've arranged boxed meals in case we need to eat on the go."

Hongjoong, who had overheard, nodded gratefully. "Smart move. Let's gather everyone and head out as soon as possible."

Within fifteen minutes, you had all eight members, their necessary belongings, and the boxed meals loaded into the vans. As you settled into your seat, Yunho passed you one of the food boxes.

"You need to eat too," he said kindly. "First days are exhausting."

You accepted with a grateful smile, suddenly realizing how hungry you were. The day had been so busy you'd barely registered your own needs.

"Thank you," you said, opening the box to find a appetizing meal inside. "I hadn't even thought about it."

"We noticed," San said from beside you. "You've been making sure everyone else is taken care of all day."

"That's literally my job," you pointed out with a small laugh.

"Still," Wooyoung interjected from the seat ahead, turning around to face you. "The good assistants remember their own needs too. Can't help us if you collapse from hunger."

The concern, though delivered with Wooyoung's characteristic dramatics, was genuine. You felt a strange warmth at the realization that they had been watching out for you even as you tried to take care of them.

"I'll keep that in mind," you promised, taking a bite of the food.

---

As the van slowed in traffic, you finished your meal and carefully packed away the empty container. The day's events were catching up with you—not exhaustion exactly, but a pleasant fatigue that came from a day well spent. You shifted slightly in your seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, when you became aware of Hongjoong's proximity beside you.

He had claimed the seat next to you when they'd rearranged for the evening trip, and now in the dim interior lighting of the van, you were acutely conscious of the subtle warmth radiating from his body. His arm rested along the back of the seat, not quite touching you but close enough that you could feel his presence like a magnetic pull. Even without being able to detect his scent through your blocker, something about his proximity made your omega instincts hum with an inexplicable sense of comfort and rightness.

"How are you holding up?" Hongjoong asked quietly, his voice pitched low enough that it wouldn't disturb the others. Wooyoung had dozed off in the seat ahead, and San was absorbed in his phone beside him.

"Better than I expected," you admitted, turning slightly to face him. The movement brought you closer, and you found yourself studying his profile in the passing streetlights. "It's been a good day."

"I'm glad," he said, and something in his tone made you look at him more carefully. His dark eyes held an intensity that seemed at odds with the casual conversation. "You've impressed everyone today. Manager Minwoo, the staff, the members..."

"And you?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, more personal than you'd intended.

Hongjoong's gaze met yours directly, and for a moment the space between you seemed charged with something unspoken. "Especially me," he said softly.

The van hit a pothole, jostling everyone slightly. Instinctively, Hongjoong's hand moved to steady you, his palm landing gently on your arm just above your elbow. The touch was brief, professional even, but neither of you moved away immediately.

"Sorry," he murmured, though his hand remained where it was, his thumb unconsciously brushing against the fabric of your shirt. "These streets are terrible."

"It's fine," you managed, hyper-aware of the warmth of his palm against your arm. The simple contact sent an unexpected flutter through your chest, and you found yourself fighting the urge to lean into the touch.

You should pull away, maintain professional boundaries. But something about the quiet intimacy of the moment—the dim lighting, the gentle rumble of the van, the way Hongjoong was looking at you like you were something precious and unexpected—made you hesitate.

"Y/n," he said quietly, and your name on his lips sounded different somehow. More personal. His hand slid down slightly, fingers curling around your wrist in a gesture that could have been casual but felt anything but. "I know today was a lot. New job, new living situation, eight new personalities to manage..."

His thumb found your pulse point, whether intentionally or not, and you wondered if he could feel how your heart rate had picked up at his touch.

"I want you to know that if you ever feel overwhelmed, or if any of us make you uncomfortable in any way, you can talk to me," he continued, his voice carrying the weight of his alpha authority but also something softer. "Your well-being matters to me. To all of us."

The sincerity in his words, combined with the gentle pressure of his fingers against your wrist, made your breath catch slightly. "Thank you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "That... that means a lot."

For a long moment, you simply looked at each other. The space between you seemed to shrink, and you became aware of every detail—the way his dark hair fell across his forehead, the subtle flecks of gold in his brown eyes, the way his lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something more.

The van began to slow, and the bright lights of the variety show studio came into view through the windows. The moment of privacy was ending, and you both seemed to realize it simultaneously.

Hongjoong's hand reluctantly released your wrist, his fingers trailing across your skin for just a heartbeat longer than necessary. "We're here," he said unnecessarily, his voice slightly rougher than before.

"Right," you agreed, though you made no immediate move to gather your things.

As the van came to a complete stop and the others began stirring, preparing for the next part of their schedule, Hongjoong leaned slightly closer to you one more time.

"Welcome to the team, Y/n," he said quietly, his breath warm against your ear. "I have a feeling you're going to fit in perfectly."

The words sent a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the evening air, and as you finally moved to collect your belongings, you found yourself wondering if the "team" he was referring to meant something more than just professional colleagues.

The van doors opened, letting in the cool night air and the excited chatter of waiting fans, effectively breaking the spell. But as you stepped out into the bright lights of the studio entrance, you could still feel the ghost of Hongjoong's touch on your wrist, and the memory of his words echoed in your mind.

Whatever this job would bring, you were beginning to suspect it would be far more complicated—and far more interesting—than you had ever imagined.

Next>>

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[yasministration]

stop singing, start (s)creaming - poly!marauders

bf!remus lupin, focus on james potter - 1 bf, 3 perverts au! summary: james hasn't stopped thinking about you since he watched you fuck sirius and peter in one night. but he finally gets his turn whilst you're getting ready to hit the pubs. wc: 1.6k+

Ever since the party a couple of days ago, James could not get you out of his head. It was already bad enough that you were one of his best friends’ girlfriend, but he kept on replaying the moment you arched your back with Sirius’s arms around you, moaning pornographically. And now, you were sat on the floor of their dorm, your makeup bag in front of you as you made yourself up to go to a pub with the boys.

You had put one of your records onto Remus’s player, the seductive music serenading the messy boys in the dorm, running around to find a clean shirt or too busy showering. It seemed you could feel a pair of eyes on you, so you turned your head around, smiling when you met James’s eye, pausing your singing. His face flushed, and you hummed in amusement, puckering your lips as you applied lip gloss onto them.

Standing up, you walked in front of the floor length mirror in their dorm, spinning around and posing in a way that accentuated your curves before leaning in closer to the mirror, analysing your makeup. James was caught staring at you in the reflection, but this time he didn’t dare look away. Giggling, you spun around in your heels, walking over to the boy and holding your hands out for him to take. He tugged you closer to him and you took the opportunity to bring your lips to his ear, whispering “Dance with me” as you swayed your hips to the song, beginning to sing along to the lyrics again.

James gasped when you spun around, pressing your back to his chest, curves swaying against him. He gripped your hips, dropping his head to kiss your shoulder softly, beginning to move his hips in rhythm with yours. You giggled, a hand coming up to gently cup James’s cheek, and he turned his face, pressing a kiss on the palm of your hand.

The steady hands on your waist forced you back around so you were facing the muscular boy again. You lazily slung both your arms over James’s shoulders, closing the distance between your faces until you were nose to nose, lips barely grazing each other. “Please.” James quietly begged, tilting his head up slightly to hint at you to connect your lips. Deciding against teasing him, you pressed your lips against his, and he sighed in satisfaction into the kiss, hands tightening on your body.

Eagerly, James tilted his head, parting his lips and licking at your bottom lip so he could deepen the kiss when you opened your mouth, gliding your tongue into his mouth. You gasped as James spun you around, walking you backwards until you hit a wall. One of his hands moved to cup your face as you messily kissed, his other hand trailing downward so he could grope your ass.

“Woah, no wonder y/n stopped singing.” Sirius chuckled as he walked out of the bathroom, wiping his own lips to hide the evidence of his kiss with Remus in the bathroom. “What’s going-oh.” Remus grinned widely as you moaned, hooking a leg over James’s hip so you could grind your pelvis against his, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you. James humped his clothed cock into your core, expelling a loud moan from your lips.

“There’s nothing like kissing against a wall. Right Rem?” Sirius teased, turning around to look at your boyfriend. You ignored the goading comments, one of your hands desperately tugging at James’s leather belt, hinting for him to take it off. James let go of your jaw, frantically attempting to undo his belt with one hand as he sloppily made out with you, tongue exploring as much of your mouth as he could. You gripped James’s hair, tugging it back to break the kiss, gasping for breath momentarily before pulling him back onto your lips.

James shimmied out of his jeans, and you took it upon you to push down his boxers, freeing his leaky cock from its confines. You reached down under the skirt of your short dress to push your thong to the side, giving James access to your cunt. He broke the kiss, panting heavily as he looked between you to push his cock into you. It was slow at first, but then James’s arm was wrapping around your waist, pushing you against the wall as his free hand grasped your second leg, pulling it around his waist, lifting you off the ground. Both your arms tightened over his shoulders as he adjusted his grip on you, bouncing you up so he could steady his hold on you, balancing your weight between his and the wall.

“Shit, you two might want to be quick, we’re supposed to leave soon.” Sirius mumbled, walking into the bathroom again to fix his already perfect hair.

“No, they have time. Pete just got in the shower, remember?” “Oh yeah.”

“Fuck James!” You cried, halting the short conversation between your boyfriend and Sirius.

You slammed your lips back onto James’s, and he whimpered into your mouth as he harshly thrusted into you, cock sliding in and out of you with ease. James swallowed up every single one of your moans, pleasure racking through your body at the feeling of his thick cock, nearly splitting you in half. You broke the kiss for a moment to catch a breath before James was pushing his mouth onto yours again in an open kiss, tongue meeting yours in the middle.

The fingers in James’s hair tightened around his soft locks, sending a sharp pain to James’s head that had him thrusting his hips up into you deliciously. James shifted your weight onto one of his arms as he snaked the other hand between your bodies, eagerly rubbing at your clit. You could feel the tears of pleasure forming in your closed eyes, and you suddenly tore apart from the kiss as you threw your head back, banging it onto the wall as you cried out James’s name loudly.

“Shit, Rem, look at that form.”

“Were you expecting any less from the athlete?”

Your ankles connected behind James’s back in your heeled leather boots, pushing James’ cock deeper inside you as you so the tip of his cock grazed the walls of your cervix. James gasped loudly, digging his head into the crook of your neck and biting roughly. You ground your hips down on James’s cock, eyes tightly shut in pleasure as he continued putting pressure on your clit. One of your hands snaked under the back of James’s collar, nails scratching at the sweaty skin of his upper back as you moaned, crying out “Fuck, I’m-fuck!”

You might have gone unconscious for a second, or maybe you were so deep in the pleasure that shot through your body, but all the sound in the room was suddenly put on mute as your orgasm rocked through your body. James’s knees buckled, and the hand that was on your clit slammed against the wall next to your head to steady himself, making sure he wouldn’t fall to his knees as he pressed you against the wall, putting all his weight against you to keep you up. “I’m gonna-need to pull out!” James cried, attempting to loosen your legs from around your torso as he thrusted into you a couple of times.

Remus’s eyes were suddenly trained on you, his possessive nature creeping on him to ensure James would pull out of you. Your legs unravelled from around James’s waist, falling flat on the ground, but James held one of your legs up to stay perched over his hips until he suddenly pulled out, aiming his cock away from your black dress. With his weight suddenly off you, you slowly sunk onto the floor, legs shaking as you recovered from your orgasm. James’s hand was pressed against the wall as he clutched his dick, spurting thick ropes of cum onto the wooden floor of their dorm.

When James finally recovered, Peter was making his way out of the dorm’s shared bathroom, a towel loosely wrapped around his hips. He chuckled, muttering “I knew something was up when I heard screaming.” “Shut the fuck up, Pete.” The blond’s chuckle turned into a full on laugh at James’s respond, slapping a hand on his back as he passed behind him.

“Can I get some help, please?” You asked from your spot on the floor, looking up at the two untouched boys. Remus strolled towards you, bending down to wrap his arms around your torso. Easily, he lifted you up to your feet, and you stumbled, forgetting about the heels you were wearing. You took a step back, but Remus tugged you closer towards him, extracting a squeal from you. “Need to go to the toilet and fix my makeup before we go.” You explained, but Remus only raised his eyebrows at you.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” Giggling, you pressed yourself against your boyfriend, kissing him softly. Jealous eyes watched you, because at the end of the day, no matter how much you and Remus fooled around his friends, you were only dating each other. Remus hummed in satisfaction and you pushed yourself off him, leaning in the doorway to the bathroom. Sticking your head into the dorm, you glanced at James, who was still panting.

“You okay, Jamie?” You asked, and the muscular boy nodded silently, putting his hands on his hips as he caught his breath. “Knees are shaky.” He mumbled, and Sirius strolled towards him. James stood still as Sirius pulled his boxers back up, carefully tucking James’s shirt into his jeans before buckling his belt again.

“Take a breather before we leave, mate.”

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28, @kitkatkl, @rory-cakes, @juliet-017, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin, @accio-mayachhiato, @ciaocinna

[baisemains]

Sweet Nectar

sevika x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k

contains: dom!sevika, sub!reader, food mention, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), praise kink, little bit of dirty talk, sevika and reader are married

description: sevika helps herself to a snack after a long day of working around the house, and the way she eats it makes you hope you’re next.

ao3 link | spotify playlist

sevika masterlist

Curled up on your living room couch with your latest book, you’re in full relaxation mode as you wait for Sevika to finish the yard work outside. She’s been working on the garden for the last couple of weekends and this morning, she told you she’d be done by today.

Taking a sip of the lemonade in front of you, the sliding door opens and your eyes flick up to your wife walking in, hoping this means she’s finally finished. Taking off her muddy boots, she strolls over to the kitchen in only her white undershirt and old pair of jeans, both sullied with dirt.

One of the biggest perks of being married to the woman of your dreams is that you’re able to stare at her all you want, and you are taking full advantage right now. All she’s doing is washing her hand in the sink, careful not to wet her prosthetic, but every little movement causes a ripple effect in her back muscles and a twinge in your lower belly.

After a minute or so, she turns towards you, wiping herself off with a towel, and starts informing you of her work in the garden today, letting you know it was finally completed. You don’t register what she’s saying for a few seconds, too engrossed in the way her forearm is flexing as she throws the towel over her shoulder, the slight sheen of sweat over her face capturing all your focus.

Sevika can tell you’re not really paying attention, you’ve let it be known that her doing housework is a big turn on for you, and honestly, she loves it. She knows the effect she has on you and is soaking it up, feeling the intensity of your gaze all over her.

Continuing her one sided conversation, she turns to the fruit bowl on the counter, looking for a snack and decides on a perfectly ripe orange. Pulling out the wooden cutting board from the lower cabinet, she grabs a knife and slices the orange into four wedges, not having the patience to peel it. She asks you about the book you’re reading as she raises a juicy piece to her mouth, and the sight has your reply fading into a sigh.

Her tongue ever so softly pokes out, catching the corner as she begins applying force and separating it from the peel. Catching it between her teeth, she pulls until the edible portion is sitting between her lips and bites down, juice dribbling down her chin to her neck.

The view is unnecessarily erotic and you squeeze your legs together, suddenly becoming desperate for friction. Your wife resumes eating her snack like nothing is happening, now looking at you expectantly because you still haven’t answered her. When she sees how blown your pupils are, she really begins taking her time, locking eyes with you as more and more fluid covers her face and hand.

By the time she’s done, you’re holding your breath in fear a moan will slip out. The sight of a sweaty Sevika looking at you like she wants to eat you next is too much. Throwing her trash away, she decides not to clean herself off, instead slowly walking over and standing right in front of you. Your legs start parting on their own accord and a knowing smile settles on her face.

“Did you hear what I asked you, baby?”

Looking up at her with hooded eyes and a slightly parted mouth, you don’t even try to pretend you’re not horny as hell. Shaking your head, she leans down, placing her hands on either side of your hips, squeezing the fabric of the couch.

“Mm. Any reason why?”

That causes you to roll your eyes a bit. She loves hearing you talk her up, it boosts her ego like nothing else in the world. You know this, but decide to play dumb for a moment, wanting to tease her the way she did you.

“Not really. Just kinda zoned out.”

“Is that so?”

Sevika then closes some of the distance between you two, noses centimeters apart.

“Didn’t have anything to do with the way you were watching me?”

Your eyes flick down to her lips, seeing that the juice from the aforementioned fruit is still covering the bottom half of her face. It gives you flashbacks to similar activities and almost causes your resolve to break. Inhaling, you slowly lean down, letting the tip of your tongue lick from her chin to her bottom lip, hearing a deep groan.

“Maybe.”

Wasting no more time, Sevika captures your lips in a deep kiss as you wrap your legs around her waist, causing her shirt to slightly rise. The two of you settle into a slow but intense rhythm, tongues sliding against each other and you taste the citrus on hers. Your hands move to rest in her hair and you eventually tug, a quiet gasp leaving her mouth as her eyes open. Deciding that she can take advantage of the space, she starts winding you up.

“If I don’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous, angel.”

A whine escapes you, and when you try to close the distance, Sevika backs away just out of reach. Scoffing, you try to pull her to you instead but she’s as strong as she looks and doesn’t move an inch.

“I’m not jealous of an orange Sev, I just, I wanna kiss you, is that so bad?”

“It’s not. I just want you to admit it.”

Whining, you know she’s not gonna kiss you until you give her what she wants, and at this point, your ego is the last thing you care about.

“Fine, I want you to eat me the way you were eating the damn fruit, happy?”

A wicked grin spread across your wife’s face, and you sigh in relief, knowing you’re finally getting somewhere.

“Ecstatic.”

She dips down again, slotting your mouth against yours and a satisfied hum leaves you. After a few minutes of that, the heat between your legs makes itself known and you know you need more.

“Sev, baby, I, ah…”

Her fingers slip beneath your waistband, dragging through your folds before she raises them to her mouth, sucking them clean. You watch the way her eyes shut, how her tongue caresses every inch of skin, and you know you’re the luckiest person in the world. She somehow always anticipates what you need before you can even say it, and you’re getting wetter by the second.

“I know, let me.”

Pushing a finger into you, your back arches off the couch, feeling her pump into you at an even pace. Knuckle deep, she pulls almost all the way out before adding a second one and you’re now grinding down onto her hand, feeling the heel of her palm adding pressure to your clit.

“That feels so good, please.”

Your response was all she needed to hear and a wave of arousal shoots through her veins. The sight of you squirming beneath her, cheeks flushed and clothes in disarray, is everything she wants to see. She captures your lips, kissing you with an urgency she knows you crave.

"Fuck, baby."

She murmurs against your lips, voice low and husky. Her fingers move a bit faster as you moan softly into her mouth. Sevika knows you like the back of her hand and has you writhing in no time.

"Let me hear you."

She’s always loved how sensitive you are. Just the sound of her voice is enough to turn you on but the effect is amplified when she adds that rough edge to it. Your fingers curl around the fabric of her shirt, pulling her down until you’re able to bury your head in the crook of her neck. You let out a shaky breath, lips grazing the underside of her jaw before they rest lightly against her pulse point.

“Sev,” you whine, “I’m close, please, I need you.”

Your desperate voice begging for her is like music to Sevika’s ears. She picks up the pace, grinding her palm down harshly against your clit. You cry out, hips bucking up to meet her hand and your grip tightens on her.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Her free hand lifts from the couch and cups your jaw, maneuvering you so she can capture your mouth in another kiss. You’re on the edge of climax, whimpering into her mouth as Sevika keeps her relentless pace, and when she feels you clench around her, she knows it’s time.

“Cum for me.”

Your brain short circuits, and when she commands you like that, you have no choice but to obey. You bite onto her shoulder to muffle the scream ripping through your throat and your entire body tenses up, legs shaking wildly.

She guides you through your high, slowing her fingers but not stopping until you’re back to laying on the couch. She pulls them out, and before you can protest, presses them to your mouth. You moan softly, wrapping your lips around the digits and tasting yourself. Sevika groans, leaning down and pressing soft kisses to your shoulder.

“You okay?”

Blinking down at her, it takes a second for your eyes to focus but then you see the care in your wife’s eyes and you gently nod.

“I’m amazing.”

Pressing a wet kiss to your cheek, Sevika leans forward and begins lifting your shirt.

“Good, cause I’m not done yet.”

She gets rid of your shorts and underwear next, peeling the last layer away slowly and watching the strings of cum stretch until they break. Leaving you completely bare, she pushes your legs apart, seeing the mess you made and audibly groaning.

“Fucking hell.”

Kneeling onto the ground, she grabs each of your thighs in her hands, careful not to be too rough with her prosthetic. Your eyes watch her the entire way, heartbeat thumping with anticipation. Dragging her nose along your inner thigh, the smell that hits her makes her mouth water, and she knows she’s about to enjoy this.

Bumping your clit with her nose causes you to let out a choked gasp, still sensitive from the first round only moments ago. Smiling at your reaction, she makes sure you’re looking at her when she envelops her full lips around it and sucks.

Every touch feels like electricity pulsing through you. Sevika’s eyes never leave yours, watching you closely for any sign that it’s too much, but every twitch and shudder just spurs her on more. Her fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs and her mouth is relentless against your sensitive skin.

"Oh, fuck..."

Those words are all you can seem to utter, over and over again, as she begins to work your swollen clit in circles with her tongue, alternating between long, slow laps and quick, pointed suctions.

She can feel your fingers curling in her hair again. It doesn’t hurt, not at all, but the action lets Sevika know how good this feels, how badly you want it. When she’s in this state, she lives for you like this, wrecked beneath her. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment before she’s locked on your gaze again, feeling you quiver above her.

"You’re so sensitive right now, aren’t you, angel? So desperate and needy.”

Nodding rapidly, you sit up a couple minutes later and it takes everything in you to lightly push your wife away.

“Wait, Sev.”

Not expecting that at all, she backs away and looks at you with concern in her eyes.

“Is It too much, are you okay?”

“No, I’m fine, it’s just, I need to see you, can you take off your shirt?”

Realizing what you were getting at, she smirked.

“Of course, baby.”

She reaches down, grabbing two handfuls of her undershirt and pulling it off effortlessly before dropping it to the floor. Her upper body is on full display, and you get all the time you want to greedily roam over every defined muscle.

Your eyes trail from her broad shoulders, down to her full breasts, decorated with the nipple piercings she surprised you with one day. Looking lower, you count each individual ab, her belly button piercing catching the light just right, and bringing your gaze to the thick happy trail that disappears into her jeans. You could cum just from this sight alone.

"Better?”

Glancing up at her, you see the cockiness displayed on her face clear as day, and it is so well deserved. Nodding, you reach up and grip her chin, bringing her into a sloppy kiss before shoving her head down between your legs again. She wastes no time getting back to where she was, treating you like her last meal on earth.

Looking down at your new view, you audibly moan, seeing the blissful look on Sevika’s face and being able to watch her naked back at the same has you inching closer and closer to the edge. Scratching your nails along her shoulders, she moans into you and the vibration has you humping her face.

“I’m close, Sev, just a little more.”

Before you can even tell her what you need, she reaches a hand up and begins playing with your nipple, pulling and squeezing and rolling it.

“Yes! Oh you’re so good to me, baby, fuck.”

Grinding into her face now, Sevika shoves her tongue inside of you and starts reaching for your most sensitive spot, hitting it over and over until you can’t take it anymore. When you start whining ah, ah, ah, she knows you’re about to tip over and takes her hand from your nipple to your clit, rubbing it until she feels your body tense up.

The band in your stomach snaps and you flood Sevika’s face, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as the waves of pleasure wash over you. By the time you’re done, your legs are shaking uncontrollably and your breath is coming out in short, sharp pants. Sevika slowly pulls away, giving you a chance to come down from your high before gently cleaning you up her tongue, not letting anything go to waste.

When she’s finished, she moves to sit next to you, carefully pulling you into her arms. Wiping her chin and face with the back of her hand, she looks incredibly pleased with herself, and you can see just how much she’s loving your current state of bliss.

A satisfied hum leaves her chest as she holds you close, letting you nuzzle into her neck. One of her hands drifts down to stroke your side, feeling the shiver when her fingers graze along your ribs. She loves being able to touch you like this, comfortable in the intimacy of the moment. You’re draped over her, completely spent, and she’s still on alert in case you need anything.

“How was that?”

Shaking your head, you gently bite the corner of her jaw.

“Delicious.”

Sevika smiles at that and presses a kiss to your temple.

“Yeah? Cause you definitely taste better than that orange, I promise you.”

That gets a laugh out of you, pressing your face into her neck as you slap her shoulder.

“You’re so fucking annoying, I swear,” you tell her with a smile.

Letting your eyes roam, they land on Sevika’s chest, sweaty and slightly heaving. You know she’s worked up, especially after two rounds, and she looks enticing as ever. Needing to return the favor, you lean up and whisper into her ear.

“What do you say…we take this to the room?”

Sliding your hand across her stomach, you curl a finger into the hair there and start playing with her waistband. She looks over at you, pupils widening as she bites her lower lip.

“That sounds good.”

Thinking for a second, you cup her chin, slowly licking into her mouth before standing up and walking towards your shared bedroom.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

While you continue down the hallway, Sevika sits frozen on the couch, taken aback by how quickly you turned the tables on her. Once she recovers, she sprints after you, catching up and throwing you over her shoulder, your giggles being heard through the rest of the house.

taglist: @lipglosskxsses

[strwbyoons]

𝐃𝐔𝐌𝐁 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ; lifeguard!j. jungkook x bimbo!fem!reader

summary : jungkook loves calling you his dumb lil baby, always so pretty and perfect for him. he loves how you willingly let him take you anywhere, anytime. but he especially loves when you go dumb on his dick.

warnings : nsfw, mean dom!jk, edging, overstim, thigh riding, p in v, unprotected sex, semi – public sex, degradation, dacryphilia.

wc : 1.1k

days like today were jungkook's favourite. days when you'd come and visit him at work in those cute little swimsuits, and bat your lashes innocently at him and ask "how's work koo? wanted to come 'nd visit you."

when the two of you would sit by the pool and talk about your day — you absolutely refusing to swim, since it would ruin your mascara, and you came to see him anyway.

other girls would give you looks, dirty looks, but they'd fly over your head and you'd simply smile and wave at them. he loved hearing you talk, eyes focused on your glossy lips.

you'd happily talk about anything and everything, and jungkook would happily listen. sometimes he'd try and coax you into the pool, but you'd adamantly decline.

"don't wanna swim," you'd whine, resting your head on his shoulder. "just wanna spend time with my boyfriend 'nd talk while sitting on the side of pool."

as you were now, looking at him with your doe eyes. "my makeup took to long, koo. i don't wanna ruin it after tryna look good for you. then it'd be a waste of time."

he smiles, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss and messing up the gloss you'd applied so carefully to your lips. "i think you look gorgeous with ruined make up, baby." he leans in, kissing up against the shell of your ear and nipping gently at the skin. "i can even ruin it for you, if you like."

you pout, or try to, trying to push him off you. "but kooki~!" you whine, gasping quietly when he begins to suck at your neck. "you always do this.. at some point you need to start fixing it for me. not everyone is gonna think i look pretty with ruined make up."

"who gives a shit about what people think," he'd groan into your nape, biting harshly and marking you up.

and you know as well as he does that you can't say no to him. so you let him drag you to the bathrooms and pull you into an empty stall, mouths pressing together feverishly as his hands sink down to your tits.

his tits.

in a flash your bikini top — that honestly was so skimpy it wasn't there to begin with — is tossed away somewhere, and his hands are kneading your breasts, nipples between his fingers. you moan into his mouth, grinding your hot sex onto his thigh.

"so needy, thought you didn't want this," he murmurs, but he doesn't stop you from grinding. instead he smirks, quickly sitting himself on the toilet seat and positioning you on his thigh. "get yourself off, baby. wanna see how needy you are."

your hips move on their own, grinding your clothed clothed heat against his bare thigh, shorts pulled up just enough for you to rut against the exposed skin. your eyes shut in pleasure and you moan quietly, gradually humping this thigh.

jungkook huffs, hands on your waist as he forces you to quicken your pace. you cry out at the sudden surge of friction, but the boy only scoffs in response.

"how's my dumb lil bitch supposed to feel good of she's moving her hips so slow, huh?" you simply moan in response, and jungkook slips in a finger between your folds. "you're so fucking wet. thought my pretty baby didn't want this? does my lil whore want to stop?"

you sob loudly, shaking your head as you grind against his fingers and his thigh. it's all too much, but you don't want to stop. jungkook just chuckles. "words, baby. or my dumb bitch feeling to good, huh? haven't even done anything and you're all fucked out."

you whine, nodding as you call out his name. his fingers retreat, instead finding place in your mouth. "since you aren't using that mouth, let's put it good use." you suck intently, jungkook's free hand kneading your ass.

you don't know how long you've been grinding onto him for, but eventually enough is enough and you can feel your orgasm on the horizon. it's so close, and you babble as such, repeatedly moaning around jungkook's fingers.

and just as you feel it coming, it's ripped away when jungkook's grip on your waist tightens, other hand flying down as well, preventing you from moving your hips any more. fat tears roll down your face as you whine into his neck, desperately bucking your hips to try and get some friction. "k-koo, please..mwanna cum, was so close!"

he hums, thinking it over for a moment, before he's forcing your hips to start moving again. it feels as though everything's on fire, heat surging through your body as your cunt messily drools all over jungkook's bare thigh.

your face is wet with tears as you feel your high approach for a second time, moans coming out high pitched and broken. jungkook loves you like this, lips capturing yours in a sloppy kiss.

you're close once more, whining into his mouth as you feverishly buck your hips. it's coming, coming, and then..

it's gone again.

you're choking and hiccuping, jungkook pressing his lips to your tear stained cheeks. "poor dumb baby," he coos. "wanna cum? you'll only cum if it's in my cock, babe, so you better beg for me to fuck you."

you don't say anything for a moment, before your broken, whiny voice reaches jungkook's ears. "please? i wanna— i need to cum! wanna g–go all dumb on your— on your cock! please~!"

if you were paying attention, and your eyes weren't so blurred with tears, you'd have noticed jungkook pulling at his shorts just enough to free his aching cock. catching the skin of your neck between his teeth, he pushes your bikini bottoms to the side and slams himself into you.

he's sure everyone in seoul heard you scream his name when he did.

he's pumping steadily in and out of you, kissing away your tears as you cry on top of him, moaning his name over and over like a broken record.

you cum way before he does, a string of curses leaving your mouth as you did so. but jungkook doesn't stop, relishing in your slurred begs for him to "stop. s'too much! can't do it!"

he doesn't listen, thrusting fluidly into your fluttering hole, groaning loudly into your neck as his cock begins to twitch inside you. "gonna cum sweetheart. wanna cum inside my dumb baby's lil cunt. can i cum in you, baby?"

you nod limply, sobbing into his neck as he lets himself go inside of you, warm spurts of cum filling you up. only then, when he's fully released his load, does jungkook finally let you rest.

you're still slurring and babbling, jungkook kissing your forehead and trying to calm you down, cooing softly. "you're alright baby, you're alright. so pretty when you cry, but it's done now, okay?"

he loved making you his dumb little baby, but he'd always take care of you after as you whimpered into his chest.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Cosmic Experimentation

Author's Note: @angelesca 's post has been living rent free in my head ever since I read it. I've wanted to write something for Anaxagoras, but I couldn't figure out what to write. And now I have the best inspiration, thanks to her HCs 😚 (I'm thinking about writing a part 2 where we finger his chest hole too–)

Pairings: Anaxagoras x male reader

Warnings: Dom male!reader, sub!Anaxa, fingering unusual holes, slight thigh humping, dacryphilia

“Are you sure about this? You really don't have to you kn–”

“No — I… I'm certain that I want to do this.” Anaxagoras takes an unsteady breath before he adds, “I trust you. I trust that you will be gentle and cautious.”

You nod, taking a deep breath as well before giving Anaxa's waist a light squeeze. Then, you raise one hand up to his face, cupping his left cheek. The warmth from your palm seeps into his skin, bringing about a bit of comfort — enough to bring a small smile to his lips.

Anaxagoras' eye flutters shut at the gentleness of your touch. The ornate eye patch covering the left side of his face keeps your attention, it's chain swaying gently whenever Anaxa's head moves. Your other hand remains on his hip, holding him steady while he sits comfortably in your lap, straddling your thigh.

It's another full minute of staying as you are, lost in this peaceful moment, before you trace the underside of Anaxa's eye patch. Gently slipping a finger underneath and lifting it slightly, only to pause when your partner shudders. “Sweetie?” you prod, afraid that this area is more sensitive than he led you to believe.

“Keep going–” he reassures, holding onto your wrist now, almost as a guiding hand. You hesitate, but ultimately give in and continue reaching upwards until your fingers reach a new sensation. Anaxagoras' breath hitches, his lips pressing together tighter as you explore this new territory. It doesn't feel like skin anymore — it's damp to the touch, and somewhat cold.

Your eyes flick to your partner's gaze; he's watching you with bated breath, predicting that you'll penetrate this spot any second now. Proving him right, you apply pressure, dipping your finger into that cool, unseen space hidden under his eye patch. Anaxagoras catches a moan before it can fully exit his throat. He gulps, digging his nails into your wrist while his other hand flies to your shoulder for stability.

“‘Sensitive’, huh? It seems you were right about that.” you tease. Anaxa can't even muster a retort as you push in a little deeper, then begin to pull your finger back out, repeating the motion idly. “Do you think you can handle two fingers?”

At this, Anaxa's eye widens, and you can instantly see the blood rush to his soft cheeks. He glares at you, but makes no argument against your question. So, you decide to find out for yourself. And the result is instantaneous: an unrestrained moan forces its way out of your pretty boyfriend. All the while, his hips jut forward, dragging his clothed cock along your thigh. The action is not missed by either one of you; while it only causes him to flush an even deeper shade of red, it brings a smirk to your lips as you understand why your partner wanted to do this in a secluded area.

Several minutes pass, filled with Anaxagoras making all sorts of reserved breathy noises. The space where your fingers reside is still a mystery to you, though one thing is for sure: future experimentation is required in order to find out the best way to bring out all of Anaxa's beautiful moans and whimpers.

The sudden realization of a wet spot on your thigh brings you out of your thoughts, and you direct your gaze to where your partner has been humping you, apparently. His hips move of their own accord, spreading a wetness that has quickly soaked through his clothing. You're sure that Anaxa doesn't even realize that he's doing it, which makes it all the more adorable.

“It must feel incredible…” you murmur. Your gaze is fixed on the growing wet spot between his legs, highlighting the very obvious bulge nestled there as well. As you thrust your fingers in a bit deeper, and more forcefully, Anaxagoras clutches your shoulder tighter, letting his mouth hang open and spill every noise without restraint now. Tears fill his right eye, beginning to run down his cheek. You grip his waist a little tighter, pulling Anaxa closer and accidentally causing his dick to grind against your thigh. An action that has shivers crawling up your partner's spine.

Anaxagoras pleads in the sweetest voice, “Please…it's– hnngh!! It's warm…haaah…and hard to breathe…” Another moan escapes as you curl your fingers deeply, making your boyfriend arch his back. “C-can't…take much mo-ore…”

“Tell me what you need, my love. What do you need me to do?” you ask in a gentle tone.

Rolling his hips against your thigh, Anaxagoras shudders once more, crying “Don't stop moving them–”

Immediately, you understand what he means. You pump your fingers in and out of Anaxa's cosmic orifice, and it makes little squelching sounds as you do. His voice wavers, going up an octave as he draws closer to his release. All of Anaxa's clothing feels too tight, as if his collar is constricting around his throat, and the back of his shirt clings to his skin as a layer of sweat forms. His chest hurts with how heavily he's been breathing for the past few minutes.

Something in Anaxagoras' core burns with searing pleasure, and the tension that has been building finally snaps as you coo at your partner to “Let it all out~”. His vision is blinded by white static, and his hips thrust forward a few times before his entire body goes lax.

“Aahh…aah~” your boyfriend heaves, exhaling harshly as the aftermath of his orgasm shakes his body and mind. You're quick to kiss Anaxa's cheek where tears had previously run down, holding him tightly since you could tell how weak he was in his current state. Soaking in every last whimper from your ruined boyfriend, you rub the small of his back while you tell him how pretty he looks. Earning yourself a halfhearted glare as a result.

You slowly remove your fingers from underneath his eye patch, eyeing them curiously as they're coated in a viscous blue substance. Before you can stare at it for too long, Anaxa weakly grasps your wrist again, putting your fingers in his mouth and sucking on them in an uncharacteristically lewd display. With his eye still glazed over, Anaxa stares at you like you're his entire universe (and, let's be honest, you are). His tongue swirls around your digits, cleaning them of that blueish fluid until they're practically sparkling, releasing your fingers with a wet pop.

“Well aren't we thoughtful?” you tease, swiping some spit from the corner of your partner's mouth. A content grin plasters itself onto Anaxagoras' face, and he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, taking in more of your warmth as it radiates off of your skin.

Absentmindedly, you rest your hand on his chest, rubbing it affectionately until something clicks in your head…

“Hey, Anaxagoras?”

“Hm?” he hums, not pulling away quite yet.

“This mark, is this what the one under there looks like?” you trace the outline of the cosmic design in the center of his chest, outlined with silver.

Without opening his eye or moving a muscle, Anaxagoras responds, “It is.”

You continue running your finger along the edges of this area. “Does it function the same way too?”

Now Anaxa does pull back, squinting at you cautiously. “It does…why?” And you know very well that the smirk playing on your lips has caught his attention.

No words are needed as you glance at the pattern on his chest, then up to your partner's gaze, then back to his chest, and to his gaze once more, raising your eyebrows knowingly.

The deepest blush spreads across the scholar's face, followed by a gasp. “You…!!”

[et6rnalsun]

rafe's entire career would have gone to fucking ruin, all because of you.

he has been teaching for years now, and in all this time everything has always gone smoothly. he is a meticulous, serious man — good at his job like few others.

all that until you came into his perfectly-composed life as his student. but, god, you should be so much more.

he still didn’t know if it was on purpose, but during his classes you were always dressed in the most unseemly ways ever. tight pants that perfectly adorned the curve of your fucking sculpted ass, short shirts that revealed your belly button as soon as your arms were slightly raised. he was deeply distracted by you, by your person, and while he was explaining complicated concepts of his subject — his mind wandered to what could be hidden under this clothes.

the worst was that you even dared to tease him. you were the worst ever. your fingers brushed against his when you handed him homework, how you looked up at him when he approached your desk, submissive and big eyes that melted him. more often than not, your lips were wrapped around a lollipop, and in a direct and downright dirty way, your tongue would twist around it. you would stay in the classroom for minutes after everyone had left, pretending to have to fix things in your backpack better while you hoped something would happen.

he was patient, really, until the rope broke.

he had you bent over his desk as his large hands gripped your hips harshly, leaving marks on the exposed skin after he had completely stripped you — like you had always dreamed. his hard thrusts were splitting you openly on his cock, something unapologetic, ruthless.

your whimpers and mewls were too loud to be in a damn school, and his fingers reached for your mouth to enter it, silencing you and drowning you against them that went deep enough to increase the tears that pricked the corners of your eyes. “shhh, quiet, baby” he murmured in your ear, hissing at a particularly strong thrust that almost made him give in to the immediate orgasm. your walls were clamping around his cock like a vice.

but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't keep quiet. your body shook like crazy as his skin slapped against your ass with unnatural force, his tip abusing your weak spots enough to make you cave under his lustfully rough touch. “is this what you wanted, huh? say it, c’mon, tell me how much of a slut you are” his tone was taunting, teasing, as he purposely made the pace hard and slow — a torture that only made you nod in response, head falling back as his fingers wet with your saliva tightened around your neck.

“words” he quickly reminded you, his free hand falling to slap your ass, the noise echoing throughout the classroom.

you moaned, biting your lip so hard it hurt. “yes, wanted — wanted this so bad” you managed to let out between all those desperate sounds you naturally made, the knot in your lower belly forming as you felt on the verge of exploding.

he groaned at your words that only increased everything he felt, his balls tightening in the clear need to come, and to do it inside your heat. “gonna cum” he warned you, adjusting his angle slightly. it was risky, he knew, but his mind was so clouded that he lost the sense of reason that he should have had at the beginning of this situation in the first place.

so he did. he came in spurts of seed that colored your insides as his thumb moved in circles over your clit to give you the same level of pleasure, making you follow right behind him. the pressure he applied made you squirm against the desk embarrassingly.

he would have regretted it a ton.

[66stitches]

dating ellie headcanons

CW: SFW, one headcanon references modern day rather than an apocalyptic world, reader described as having hair

daily click - palestine masterpost - tlou and israel

⛤ If you have trouble sleeping, she’d force herself to stay up all night with you.

“It’s fine, baby. I wasn’t even tired anyway,” she says red-eyed and half asleep.

⛤ Loves innocent showers together. She’d always ask you to shampoo her hair (and tries not to drift off as you’re massaging the shampoo onto her scalp).

But when she’s applying your shampoo, she’d give you random hairstyles she finds cool. A mohawk is her go-to.

⛤ She drools in her sleep :(

⛤ She’d absolutely be the type of person to hog the swings at the playground. She is SPRINTING for it as fast as she could before a little kid gets their hands on it first.

“Sorry, little dude. I was here first,” she says as the kid’s mother is glaring at her disapprovingly from the distance.

⛤ You can’t watch a film without her comparing you to every hideous character she sees.

“Pfft, that dude looks like you.”

“Uh, Boromir?”

“No. The Uruk-hai.”

⛤ Also, The Lord of the Rings is one of her favorite film series. She’s a huge fan of Star Wars and The Terminator too.

⛤ Forces you to listen to her ranting about her favorite comic books.

“Alright, so then Dr. Daniela joins forces with other characters across the galaxies while trying to prevent the Travelers from wiping out the human race- babe, are you listening?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m listening. Go on.”

“Yeah? What was I saying?”

Shit. “Oh, Daniela Star found this thing, and… I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

“It’s okay! I get that the plot can sound a little complicated. I’ll just start over from the beginning again!” 😀

⛤ She has no problem kissing you before you brush your teeth in the morning, but dodges your every kiss if you had even a single sip of coffee.

⛤ Physical touch is her biggest love language.

⛤ When she’s feeling upset, she’ll be extra affectionate with you. Not wanting to talk about her feelings but needing some physical comfort.

⛤ Writes poetry about you in her journal, especially about the first time she met you and how you made her feel. She’d die before you read any of it though.

⛤ Loves to sketch you. Her journal is filled with drawings of your eyes, your lips, your smile. You’re her favorite muse.

⛤ Bonfire dates are her favorite. Just you, her, and her guitar.

⛤ Speaks to toddlers like they’re grown ass adults.

“Don’t you think it’s fucked- sorry, messed up how many atrocities the government has forced us to be complicit in simply by paying taxes?”

The confused kid is just staring at her.

“I think this baby’s deaf.”

⛤ Loves when you scratch her back. She’ll even be bossy with it and guide your hand.

“Lower. No, wait, go up. To the left- I said left.”

⛤ A huge fan of Mortal Kombat. Okay that’s all I got