#euphoria wishes it had what glee had

[tuiyla]

I wonder sometimes if glee was one of the last gasps of TV that wasn’t primarily streaming driven. The another anon made a doctor who comparison and I think that’s apt - that being a show who’s ratings have been so changed by the shift to streaming, something fans never stop arguing about. Game of thrones, maybe, is another? But glee was *so* huge, mainstream wise for five minutes.

Yeah that checks out. Coming to think about it, streaming got bigger and bigger just as Glee ended. Sometimes I think about season 6 and how different the world already was, a contrast to the first season's 2009 immediate post-Obama election vibe.

Doctor Who is a fascinating example because of its longevity but also the fact that it constantly changes, and fans often conflate the reasons behind (lack of) viewership with the show's content. Sometimes it's just the world changing around the show. You'd think something like Doctor Who is uniquely equipped to adapt to that but, well, depends on your perspective how successful that has been.

I think the main reason Glee is hard to compare to another media property is because it was, by all means and despite initial intent, a teen show. GoT with its explicit violence and high fantasy is literally a different world, and so was everything else even nearly as popular. I don't know if I'd say Glee was the most popular teen show of the 2010s but it certainly... occupied a unique space in the mainstream, in the zeitgeist. One that the likes of Gossip Girl or PLL or The Vampire Diaries could never. Maybe it was the musical thing, maybe the dramedy, maybe just this unique cocktail. But it was so insanely ubiquitous and though it did drop off a lot people's radars in later seasons, there's a reason it is still talked about in the mainstream today. The tragedies, yes, the scandals, sure, but also because the grip it had on pop culture never really went away.

Like, when Pitch Perfect came out? Everyone went "oh like Glee." Rachel Bloom, when doing initial promo interviews for Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, had to clarify again and again that, not exactly like Glee, these were original songs. Can't imagine what branding Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist must have been like. And then, of course, the teen show right of passage of being compared to Glee in some way or another.

[pigeonwhumps]

Battle

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Angstpril: alt prompt 1: troubled mind

Inspired by these two prompts by @hurtmyfavsthanks and an anon ask she received. I saw the more recent one and just wrote this straight up within a couple of hours, unable to resist it.

1k

CWs: living weapon, outcast whumpee, magical whumpee, low self-esteem, betrayal kinda, mentions of battle and casualties, mentioned past discrimination

Whumpee doesn't remember much of the battle.

It went by in a haze. They remember red, people falling, screams, unsure which side they were on. They remember the glee, the euphoria, of using their magic. The high of it all.

Now they're starting to come down from that high, and they can see the fear in people's eyes. The injuries, the casualties. Vaguely, they wonder who caused them. Was it them again?

Hands cup their face, gentle, calloused. The only ones that will ever touch them anymore.

Caretaker's.

"Hey. Look at me, now. Not the camp. Me." Whumpee looks up hesitantly, into their loving, warm eyes. One day they'll change. One day... one day they'll harden. Fear, hatred. From all the people they've hurt, on all sides. One day it'll be too much. They're afraid of the day they'll see that, of what will happen then.

But it hasn't happened yet.

Caretaker wipes their cheek softly. "It's okay. Come on, rest. Lay your head down. You're done for today. Close your eyes and rest."

Whumpee crawls into Caretaker's lap. They vaguely register being carried, head being lifted until it meets Caretaker's neck. Whumpee nuzzles into it.

"Shh. You did so well. You're doing so well, Whumpee. I'm proud of you."

Whumpee doesn't want to be. They want to grow flowers. But this is what their magic likes, this is what their king likes, this is what makes Caretaker say those words of praise in just that voice, so they can't stop.

(They ignore the small voice in their head that says that they have no idea what Caretaker's reaction to flowers would be. This is exhilarating, even if they feel an ever-growing bubble of shame at the endless, ruthless violence.)

Caretaker runs a hand through their hair, combing out the knots from the day's work, using a little water to clean the worst of the blood. Whumpee has been through this so many times that they know what to expect without even a glance. He won't hurt them with those eyes. They know his expression, his feelings, and they curl their arms and legs closer around him.

He's so warm.

"S'okay buddy. I'm here."

"Hmm."

Whumpee closes their eyes. It's so... so... they don't think they can sleep yet but they find themself drifting on the exhaustion the magical high always brings.

_

The next morning is... the next morning. As it always is with a new squad, it is very different to the first one.

And as it always is, Whumpee feels a sharp stab of hurt.

The soldiers know who they are, what they are. Have done since the very beginning .They've worked with Whumpee on the preparations, the journey here, for weeks. They know them. Sat around the campfire, shared meals, joked and talked and laughed. They'd been wished good luck yesterday morning, hair ruffled, smiles and reassurances in abundance. Soldier had even fixed their horse's saddle after the straps started to break. Now...

Now, they won't come within arms length of them. Soldier ladles out breakfast to the rest, leaving an empty bowl several feet from Whumpee, not looking them in the eye as he leaves them to fetch their own. He flinches along with several others as they approach the campfire, more whose hands jerk towards their swords. As if they're going to attack. As if they're so out of control that they'd attack their own side on purpose.

They reluctantly let go of Caretaker's hand so he can fetch their breakfast and the healing potion alone. At least he looks them in the eye. At least he sits with them, and talks, and touches them. Helps convince them to take the potion, even though it's bitter and rancid and no-one will improve it for the likes of them, and they won't need it once the adrenaline and euphoria of tomorrow's battle kicks in.

The kindness is only for now. It will change, sooner or later.

Nobody helps the pair of them take down their tent, or pack their saddlebags, and the Sergeant looks about to stop Whumpee from replacing the emergency set of daggers they carry in their boots at all times. A gift from Caretaker.

It's like they have the plague. Or the Devil's Touch, as their old villagers used to say.

They're pretty much alone in the clearing now, the rest of the squad staying as far away as they can without letting Whumpee out of their sight. Just in case they explode or something.

Without a word, Whumpee settles down on the ground beside the smoldering fire, Caretaker sitting on the log behind them. It's a sharply cold morning, dew dampening their breeches, but their leather armour keeps them surprisingly warm.

Caretaker braids their hair quickly and simply, just enough to keep it out of their face. Battlefields aren't the place for complicated hairstyles. Which is a shame, because Caretaker takes pride in that skill, and Whumpee delights in being allowed to display the results.

Whumpee dries their face with the cloth Caretaker hands them wordlessly. They need to get it together. It's not like it's the end of the world or anything. They try to summon the ease by which they sometimes prepare, the eagerness instead of dread that comes with a lot of battles.

It doesn't come. Today is a day for dread, then, and there's nothing they can do about it but pray for a miracle. And a break in the hatred and fear, the violence with which everyone rejects them.

They can't help thinking, though, that the amount of damage they've done, it's no wonder people want them locked away. They are a weapon, after all.

Yes. Definitely one of the bad days.

Caretaker's their handler. They try not to think about it but it's true. He's the only one who might see it, might offer them a brief reprieve. So they summon up all their courage.

"Please..."

Caretaker finishes the braid and kisses their temple. "I'm so sorry, Whumpee. I really am. But you need to do this. We need to do this. The kingdom needs you."

Whumpee nods. They don't blame Caretaker, not really. They need to win this war. And Whumpee needs to use their magic.

But gods do they wish they could stop.

[j2zara]

j2's vegas wedding outfit. porter's carrying him over the threshold of the chintzy honeymoon suite and spreading his bride out on a heart-shaped bed and making love to him ALL night.

IM SORRY I WISH I HAD MORE THOUGHTS ABT THIS BEYOND JUST FORMLESS GLEE. I was so busy living in the euphoria of j2porter vegas wedding roleplay that i forgot i lived in a world where i ought to say more than scream incoherently abt it. Sorry everyone for being soft about these two. Like its my fault. Tomorrow Jace is going to yell at j2 over this but today j2 is glowing. He's so happy and unfortunately im evil and in my heart porter has this terrible moment of in his head seeing J2 like this tacky wedding dress in his arms and all like yeah i would give it all up for j2 and then its over and hes like ok im normal now (he's not). He loves being in porter's arms he loves being carried across the threshold (secretly his favorite part) and J2 is so adoring and trusting and its just. I cry.

And i do think it would even be something that J2 would take a moment to accept, like i don't even think it would be his idea bc like he wants it he wants it to be real in that he wants porter to himself he wants to be the one picked to be It but also he wants the fantasy of it as well if he can't have that but also a part of him is like is it blasphemous is it wrong to want to indulge in the fantasy in which i get to be the one for Porter. Especially if this is not a situation in which he is invoking jace, like this is for him.

I can't decide if that once he's in on it though he's the one nervously but like excitedly trying to voice his ideas or if he's truly in for the ride. He definitely didn't decide on the dress but like unironically he loves it I think in his mind he would end up in something more dainty but its perfect. He can do tacky!!! He likes comfort, he likes tacky, he's never had a sense of style but he likes romance, repulsion at closeness is a jace instinct and it always feels alien in his brain, wrong, and J2 freaks out a bit abt the dress getting messed up at first but like the tags are right Porter is getting into it and J2 can relish the fact that Porter is not going to treat him like a precious thing, the want to the point of destruction is close to what he wants, right?

and the heels are crazy something that high might be a j3 special j2 has never worn a heel in his life and initially he's like idk abt this but if it's what porter wants then ok! And he's kinda wobbling around, but he's earnestly giving it his best shot like asking Porter "how do i look?" and like and its like endearing and awkward and so baby bird and Porter is just like so endeared by it until the heel snaps off but thats ok bc that means Porter gets to carry him some more!!

And i do think J2 gets into the roleplay aspect of it like for real for real. This entire night is about how special J2 is which he's like absolutely taking and relishing and he might actually die of happiness and b/c i love porter but i hate porter he's absolutely playing into it just this idea of like it's crazy and it's stupid but what if we went for it? i would give it all up for you. I chose you. I have to have you, which is why we're ruining the dress and the makeup. Like Porter rips the dress and he absolutely wants j2 to cry and his mascara to run and his lip gloss to smear while Porter is fucking his face and j2 is sooooo into it.

but also it gets very slow and treasures him kissing of the thighs and slowly taking off the garters and J2 might pass out. He's like. J2 is not doing the work for tonight this is for spoiling you (I earnestly think if they did commit to the whole honey moon suite thing Porter is making J2 everyone's problem. This is my special little princess for the night. Get behind me kitten he asked for no pickles). J3 makes fun of j2 for earnestly using the phrase "making love" sometimes and what they're doing usually isn't really that but tonight it is and. he cries but like for once its not like a sad cry or even a bittersweet cry.

But the other half of the roleplay beyond getting spoiled is j2 getting like wayyyy into it like. if he were really. basically living in this fantasy of essentially being Porter's housewife and being like yeah i'd do all your dishes and all your laundry and treat you right and be dressed up for you with a cute little apron and give you a kiss every day when you came home work and of course there's a home cooked meal and you can watch tv on the couch or i could give you a massage and tell you how hard you work and how happy i am to see you and whatever else you want. You're the center of my world. And then i can blow you obviously. Which obviously is huge turn on for Porter so they go at it like two more times and then the rest of the night

J2 doesn’t stop telling Porter he loves him all night. The softy in me says Porter also says it back. But you didn’t hear it from me

[dyrewrites]

In Fog -- 14

Restful as my sleep had been, comforting the moment, the possibility of home...I woke alone in the bed with my mind on death.

What I had caused but also wondering of my own, do I want to die?

It heard me, of course, thoughts never my own. And it leapt onto the bed, bouncing beside me as I attempted to hide beneath the covers.

Nothing like you, my love, it gave up pretending months before and even your colors had drained to whites and grays...but I saw you sometimes. In the quirk of its lips, the light on its cheek, even heard you in its giggles. Not quite sumptuous, but close enough to hurt.

But that, the bubbly glee, that was it alone...and infectious.

It sang through an echoless voice, rich and sweet, “Still brooding, darling?”

I said nothing, holding firm to my mood, my question.

It tugged at the sheets, “Are you going to make me come in there?”

It peeked under, crawling while I brooded, as that was what I did; brood. But I could do no such thing with that smile aimed at me. I mirrored it, best efforts against it damned, and was awarded a kiss.

“The tears are dried now, darling, the blood washed clean. Your brooding is unnecessary,” another kiss and it joined me fully beneath the sheets, coiling around me, “If my teeth were all you wished, you know I would happily drain you to euphoria. But you asked for death.”

“You give death to plenty, and are asking me to as well, but I cannot ask for mine?” you would have called me a brat, my love, slapped me playful but firm.

It only sighed, “Do you ache to see my tears, is that why you ask this again?

Yes, I did, part of me genuinely enjoyed seeing it vulnerable. But I would not say that, “No, and I...I will not. But I am confused. Why me, what do I have that would enthrall you so?”

“Enthrall?” It smiled, snuggling closer, “Oh, darling, you are a delight. But in answer, beyond my interest; you have a gift,” and dancing its fingers down my stomach, it cooed, “many…”

Grabbing the dancing hand, I ignored the narrowed eyes and demanded clarification, “What do you mean?”

“I chose you for your potential, darling, and you have lived up to it so beautifully,” slapping the sheet from our faces, it turned narrow eyes on me again, “Save for those morals of yours. Useless as they are.”

Its disdain for my soul aside, I focused on one word alone, “Chose? You mentioned no choice, only that you had to know if,”

“If you could want me, could love me...as I am. That was the choice. And you do love me?” so close it asked, lips almost touching my cheek.

“Yes, I do,” I answered and so soft the sheets, yet not near so as those lips.

Or those damned hands, teasing as much as its words, “do what.”

“Love you,” it was more a breath than an answer and that served to rile it further. But I would not succumb, “My potential, what does that mean?”

It tasted my neck before answering, “There is a dark spot in you, darker now you have fed it. And one required for the life I hoped to share...with you.”

“I am tainted, was already?” Even now I cannot reconcile those words, I understand my darkness has grown but to hear that it existed already, to wonder, did you need to leave, or were you fleeing my blackened soul?

“That love of yours,” its words ground from its throat, worse than I had heard any time prior, “would have fled if you were pristine. Your darkness appeals only to me.”

Fool that I am, I tempted more, “Why me, are there not others with darkness in them?”

“If there are, I do not care,” voice yet grinding, its nails dug into the thigh it teased, “I wanted you. Want you still. Only you. Did last night’s confession not stick, do you not understand yet? You are no flight of fancy, no naive obsession.” Wet the eyes that found mine, pleading wide as its nails dug deeper into my skin, “I love you, more than this body’s rotten soul ever did.”

“I apologize, my love,” simpering, yes, but its tears and simmering rage worried and knowing it would not give me death did little to calm my fears.

It saw my plot, of course, eyed me with all the suspicion those soft gray eyes could offer but then it crawled out of the sheets.

And changed the subject, “We are visiting the market today, and we best leave now; The nearest we can walk into without incurring the wrath your morality wrought is two hours by train,” its voice hitched at the sight of the wall clock, “And we have wasted most of the morning on your brooding!”

The sharpness in its voice was somehow comforting in the confusion of its compassion…and I blame you for that, my love.

[dianewritesstuff]

Scenes from my past

Whiskey, lager, and one malt. He always loved to drink. He was as much a social drinker as he was consumed by the euphoria I imagine came with forgetting himself even for a second. I always wondered, How could he stand the taste of beer? How could he down an entire glass of cold whiskey and savour the burning rather than despise the lingering smell? I think now I understand, it must have been easier to focus on the burning pit rather than have his ears intruded by screeches and a scream-his slice of peace torn apart by an angry woman with an ever-present murderous glint in her eye.

A blue dress and a loaf of bread It was just after 9 pm, and the world had slowly started to slumber as all country homesteads do. I wasn't supposed to be out, I hated being outside. But I was delegated errands, and I had to offer my best charisma to see them through. He had been missing for about a week, But we had long given up worrying because we had come to understand. He was never really missing, just out there living differently. Through all the lavish spending, drinking, and swinging, he found a minute to purchase a pretty blue dress and a loaf of bread. After all, what kind of father never brings his precious child a present?

The soap in my eyes She never ever took responsibility for her part in every fight. If I ever showed an ounce of emotion amidst a fight, that could be weaponized to start a guilt trip. I hated having to serve as the referee, the judge, the commentator, and the executioner. So I decided to take a shower instead. I may have been doing a showering ritual to wash away the dirt of a long day or simply trying to hide in plain sight. There was scuffling and I knew at that moment, I could never wash the soap in my eyes fast enough. I was crying. I couldn't stop the quakes from rocking my body. Maybe it was the soap hurting my eyes, or maybe, my heart was finally bleeding through my eyes.

A song on the radio Peter Cetera is a genius. He made the one song that served as a peace anthem in my life. I don't care much for the whole song, only for the hazy memory of a discorded voice singing unabashedly, feminine laughter with a hint of embarrassment and innocent glee. And a twinkle in my eye while I wished we would be in this loop for eternity.

The screech of a chair, the smell of burning tires The dinner table is a battlefield. There are never any recesses given to nurse the wounds or refill ammunition. Words are exchanged, sending shots directed to the heart, and poisoning the bloodstream but I am caught right in the middle. I've got no armour to protect me from the harsh exchange, the food turns sour in my mouth until I can feel the bile rising. Before I can get up, a chair is sent flying by a hand that could choke and kill if it came in touch with human skin. Only seconds later, I can feel my heart reverberating in rhythm to the receding sound of the automobile riding away. I should be sad, but why am I glad instead?

A bargain for freedom This is a phone call I hate making. It always starts off the same, a carefully laid trap to lure them both. They never get the hang of it, do they? Deep breaths turn into a mantra, fingers fight to tear at something but I fight for control. It shall soon be over, and you can go back to ignoring festering cancer ripping the family apart. You don't need them anymore, I convince still. But my eyes never know when to hold steady, for I can feel the betrayal masked by the deafening silence of my heart breaking yet again. I should have invested in an elastic heart and a lab full of pain meds.

A Hail Mary Every day repeats like clockwork. Am I a fool for holding out hope this long? I've broken down every possible way from here to Sunday, pain is my comfort now. I want out. Misery loves company but I won't let it rule me much further. So I say live, or let go. Let this Hail Mary carve a new normal, a new path. I will see you on the other side, I am bruised but not broken. It will heal, that's my new mantra. ©️dianewritesstuff #Scenes from my past

[kiame-sama]

28 Years - Yandere!Silva x Reader (2nd Pregnancy)

Many have asked and now, here it is!!

Warnings; Dub-con, pregnancy, yandere relationship, manipulation, mention of past abuse, yandere, yandere behavior, yandere tendencies, nsfw, Silva extreme views, family bonding,

It had been a few years- close to six- but the scars of your emotional turmoil were still present in your behavior and actions. You would become distressed whenever Silva attempted to be intimate with you, only calming down when he would back off, giving you the space you needed. Sometimes he would and sometimes he wouldn't, but he generally had not lain a single hand on you with any intent to hurt or force you to do anything.

It seemed he might have learned from his egregious error of taking Illumi away from you and punishing you for running away from him. Now he was cautious and treated you like glass in his grip, still keeping you close as often as possible and readjusting you to his touch. Some progress has been made- you no longer flinched from his touch or sobbed when he held you- but you still reacted like you were being burned or tortured with any kind of intimacy.

Though he wouldn't admit it, Silva hated seeing your pained expression, listening to your frightened whimpers and cries, seeing your panic whenever he tried to pin you under him, and most of all he hated how you never seemed to enjoy intimacy with him anymore. Even when he had first kidnapped you, you would make such loud noises and moans of pleasure any time he touched you and now you just panicked and cried. He didn't think your rejection of his affection would impact him so deeply, but he honestly couldn't remain hard or cum when you cried in such a way whenever he took you.

He was unable to enjoy it if you didn't enjoy it.

He could be a patient man, but he also had burning needs that drew him into near feral insanity if he refused to indulge in them. Silva NEEDED you. He needed your touch, your affection, your intimacy, all of it. He had tried to ignore his needs more than once before and almost every time he was unable to last very long, aching with desire just to feel your touch against his skin.

Even if it meant you were striking him or cursing at him, he would feverishly accept your touch with absolute glee. He was so sick with how desperately he needed you. His only 'cure' to this aching need was indulgence in his addiction to you. He was addicted to everything you had to offer and to everything you did. Nothing other than you mattered to him because you were his world. You were his love, his light, his everything.

True to his assassin nature, he quietly entered the room, frowning upon seeing you curled up in your shared bed and slightly shivering from the cold his absence seemed to cause. He chose to wake you gently, massaging your shoulders and murmuring softly to you in a husky hum.

"(Y/n), wake up..."

"Ngh... Hm? Silva? What is it?"

"I want to try something with you."

He felt your body stiffen as you fully awoke due to his words, fear and anxiety shooting through you almost violently at the implications his words had. You could only muster a whimper and start shaking your head back and forth, not trusting your words to be enough to deny his advances. Still he persisted, arms snaking around your midsection and pulling your back up against a warm chest.

"Shh... Trust me."

"No... No. No! No no no no no no no no!"

You were thrashing like a wild animal at this point, clawing for freedom and screaming out as if in pain, biting him when you could as you tried to wrench yourself from his grasp. He continued to simply hold you close as you thrashed, wailing and fighting his grip with all you had. But even your energy had to die down at some point, panting and whining pathetically as you lay exhausted in his arms.

"It's alright. It's okay... See? You're okay."

"No..."

"Yes. Have I hurt you during all of this?"

"... No..."

"See? I just need you to trust me. It won't hurt and we can take this as slowly as you want."

"I don't want it..."

"You do. You just think you don't because you're scared. I hurt you. I have done you wrong and unknowingly enforced the idea of intimacy being a punishment. I should have shown restraint and should have never done what I did to make you run in the first place. Let me show you this is different. Let me show you it's okay."

"..."

Your whimpers quieted as you lay hyper aware of any movement Silva made, feeling one arm drag down your side and his hand come to a rest on your lower stomach. When you didn't immediately try to push him away, he continued to follow the soft curve of your body until his large hand was parting your thighs. He slid his hand into your sleep pants where he cupped your heat and gently kissed your shoulder, slowly beginning to rub light pressure over your sensitive body.

The softest of noises left you, some kind of mix between a whimper and a moan, uncertain if you were whining from fear or due to the gentle movements of your husband. When Silva added a bit more pressure to your warm heat, you expected a flash of pain to stab through you, instead a soothing sensation ran through your mind and compelled you to calm just a bit more. Your light moans seemed to be the only confirmation Silva needed to keep going, sliding his hand gently between your soft folds, fingers prodding at your wet entrance.

Your mewling moans turned into gasps of pleasure as you gripped his thick arm, pressing back against his warm chest and whining in bliss. The light feeling of his lips trailing over your neck made you whine and shiver, hips beginning to slowly move with his relaxed strokes. You could feel how much your responses were affecting him given the rock-hard length that pressed stiffly against your back, pulsing in desire and need.

He tugged at your loose sleep clothes, easily sliding them off of your body, leaving you bare against his broad chest. His hands were warm as they slid over your chilled flesh, letting the heat sink into your body and warm you to the core. It was clear he was taking great care to not cause you any level of pain, given his relaxed touch and gentle behavior.

You whimpered when he moved so you were laying face-down on the bed, your hips raised up and his muscled body over your own. The firmness that pressed against you made you mewl and turn your head to look at him in vague fear despite the slick that coated your thighs. It was clear you were still frightened and hesitant to the idea of intimacy with Silva after what he had done to you, but the large hands on your hips gave you little room to voice that fear.

"Shh... It's alright..."

He shifted above you and you were about to question what it was he was doing when an intense warmth met your pulsing pussy, gasping and gripping at the blankets as an obscene slurping sound met your ears. Silva lapped his tongue at your soaked heat, making you mewl and cry out against the blankets beneath you, arching your back as pleasure hummed through your entire body. You couldn't stop the moans that tumbled from your lips due to the mind-numbing bliss that sparked through your brain, balling up your fists as you tried to hold back the sounds.

"Fuck..! Fuck, it- it's so good..!"

You were practically drooling at that point from the pleasure that coiled itself tightly in your abdomen, your eyes clenching shut as you continued to whine loudly. Silva seemed to only be spurred on from your pleasured noises, sinking his tongue as deeply into you as he could, gripping your hips and moving you in time with his desperate licking. When you felt like you couldn't take it anymore, you let out a loud screech of bliss as that coil snapped and flooded your body with euphoria, shaking from the sheer force of the pleasure.

"There we go... Fuck, you look so good squirting for me like this."

A whine left your exhausted form as he slid two fingers into you, moving and scissoring them slowly to get your warm walls to loosen for him. You were able to just lean into your pillows, feeling the echos of pleasure building up inside of you once more as Silva slowly but surely worked you over. He continued with his slow movements, letting you move your hips back against his fingers and fucking yourself on them at the pace you wanted all while admiring the wonderful view he had of your blissed out expression.

When your hips began to slightly stutter and jerk at a faster pace, he pulled away from you, relishing the sound of your needy whine of disapproval. He didn't hesitate to lick his fingers clean of your slick, getting a few more slow strokes of his tongue on your soaked pussy before getting to the matter at hand. He lined himself up, only allowing the tip of his large cock to rub against your tight hole as he gently massaged your hips.

"Would you like more?"

"Ple-please! Yes- yes, please, Silva! I need- ngh- I need more!"

"Then go ahead and take more. Go as fast or as slowly as you wish. Take my cock into you."

Silva was actually slightly surprised at how you reacted to his words, almost trying to take him in too quickly as you pushed your hips back, letting him sink deeper into you. The sheer stretch of taking his entire length was enough to make your toes curl in pleasure, needing to pause for a moment just to try and adjust to the full feeling. Some part of him wondered if you were even fully aware of the grasp you had on his heart, the sole being that held all of his affections and attention.

"Silva..! Please..! I need you to move..!"

You were mewling under him, gripping the sheets tightly as you whimpered and tightly closed your eyes. It was clear that you were in need of some kind of release and he was the only one who could provide it for you.

He wouldn't deny your breathy pleas, at least.

Starting with a slow tempo that built up to a near impossible speed, the bed creaked and complained loudly beneath you due to his unrelenting thrusts. You were in mind-numbing bliss and truly didn't care about the absolute racket you were making as you practically screamed out your moans, letting the sculpted man move your body as he pleased. Silva was in a similar state, lost to the pleasure of hearing your sweet moans as he buried himself inside of you.

He had yearned for such a sound for quite a bit now and your rejection of his affection over the past few years had left him nearly starved for you. Truly, there was only so much he was able to take when it came to resisting his physical need for your touch, wanting desperately to just hold you and have you cry out for him. He was finally able to feel your tight walls milk his hot cock and listen to your breathy moans, seeing you writhe in pleasure from the large cock buried inside of you.

"Tell me how much you love it. Tell me how much you love me. Scream it for me."

"Ngh-! Silva! I- fuck- I love it..! So big..! So damn good! Please! Please I need more!"

Despite the fact you did not say everything he wanted to hear, Silva continue to rut into you with fast angled thrusts that made you practically see stars. His grip on your hips was tight, but you didn't register anything other than that thick length moving inside of you wildly. Even as your eyes rolled back, you couldn't help the whining moans that wrenched from your throat fiercely.

The moment that pressure growing within you broke, you wailed out in a near tortured moan while pleasure washed over you for what felt like ages. The hot ropes of cum filling up your soft stomach only seemed to prolong the pleasure that ran through your veins, as if time itself stood still around you. When Silva finally pulled out of you, you collapsed on the bed and panted heavily, feeling almost too full as you moved to a much more comfortable position.

Silva's large arms wrapped around you and pulled you close, letting you sink into the warm heat that radiated from his sculpted figure. It was truly as if the two of you were just basking in the presence of one another all while you slipped back off into sleep, content with the warm figure that held you so close. Silva took longer to just enjoy the moment after finally getting to embrace you once more without any fear getting in the way.

For now, it seems he had managed to mend the scars of his egregious error and had you content to be with him once more.

~~~~~~~~

You lay on your side, curled up on the tile floor of your shared bathroom, trying to get the queasy feeling to subside enough to move. You honestly couldn't remember a time where you felt half as unwell as you did at that moment, feeling tears sting your eyes as your throat burned with exhaustion. At that point, all you really wanted was to sleep, but with the current exhausted state your body was in, you had no way of reaching the comfort of your bed or the warm embrace of your blankets.

The quiet sound of your door opening drew what little you had left of your attention span, hardly able to lift your head all that far from the tile as you attempted to rouse your body into an upright position. Despite your efforts, it was clear there was no way you were going to be able to sit up and so you simply remained on the cold tile as you awaited whomever had entered the room. To your vague surprise it was not Silva who came through the door, it was Zeno and he honestly seemed as if he hadn't expected to find you in the state you were currently in.

With a surprising gentleness, the elder came to your side and rest the back of his hand on your forehead. He seemed to have some level of honest concern as he gazed down at your exhausted form splayed out on the tile.

"Shall I go retrieve that useless doctor of yours?"

"... Please..."

It took more effort than you had expected to huff out that one word, feeling oddly cared for and respected simply for the fact he asked what you wanted instead of acting of his own accord. Silva would have never done that. He would have taken one look at your unwell state and practically ran to retrieve your kind doctor to have you checked for any cause that may explain your current position.

It didn't take long for him to send out word to have your doctor come to your room before he was back by your side. Truly, if there ever were a time you felt honest appreciation for your father in law, it would be at that exact moment. He could have easily left you to suffer alone on the tile and instead not only sent for help, but returned to your side to wait with you.

"Is there anything you need at this moment?"

"..."

You tried to form some kind of sentence to respond to him, but you felt as if the energy had just been ripped out of you as your eyes began to slowly close. A sharp snapping sound brought your attention back to the man before you who now seemed to almost be more than just concerned.

"No sleeping. Not yet. Do your best to remain awake, Brat."

The faintest of smiles pulled at your lips when you heard that name that he only used for those he felt responsible for as well as those he cared for. Zeno was an assassin through and through and was a proud man at that, but he did have some kind of emotions that were reserved for family and close friends of the family. He was cold and to the point with almost everyone, but he was far more gruff and pushy with those he actually cared about given the way he has had to live on where his wife had died delivering Silva.

It was the only way he knew how to show affection.

"Where..?"

"Silva? Just left on a job this morning. A long job. It should take him at the least a month, if not longer. Of course you would choose now of all days to fall ill, Brat."

"Not.. dead yet..."

A low huff of amusement came from the older man as he sighed and sat next to you on the floor, keeping you constant company despite having no obligation to do so.

"I'm not telling Silva about this until he gets back. You know as well as I do that he would leave the job the moment he heard you were unwell. That fool loves you more than even he realizes."

His words, though harsh, made complete sense to you. Often you had thought that Silva was far more obsessed with you than anyone else realized, given how you were one of the very few who ever saw his true nature without the trained restraint and cold tone he almost always had. He was mentally unwell due to his upbringing and obsessed with you beyond reason, and he believed his actions were justified due to his familial heritage when it came to what they considered to be love.

Maha lived through it. Zeno's father died from it. Zeno lived through it. Silva will die from it.

An insane love that compelled them to do all they could to obtain and keep the object of their affections, even going as far as kidnapping and imprisonment. Silva's sickness is worse than theirs had been, and he is the only one that managed to keep his darling- you- alive. They understood and accepted the obsession he had with you and were content to keep you in Silva's arms as long as possible.

The door to your room opened with a loud creak before Kikyo made her way into the bathroom where you lay. It was clear she moved in a much more rushed pace when she saw you laying on the tile shivering, not even needing to be told to start checking you. She was being much more gentle and seemed to be far more expressive than usual as she examined you with great care.

"It seems to me you may be pregnant again."

You felt surprise run through your veins, but that surprise dulled down for a moment as you recounted what it was like when you were pregnant with Illumi. It certainly made sense, especially given all that happened up to that point.

"If she is pregnant again, I need to have a chat with Silva about keeping his damn hands off her child this time."

"Yes, sir. Shall I contact-"

"Tell him and I'll make you wish you never even considered it to begin with."

~~~~Three Months~~~~

You sat next to Zeno as you remained curled up nice and cozy in your heated blanket, sharing it with the elder who kept you company thus far in your pregnancy. Silva was expected to return any day now and you both knew the absolute fit he would throw the moment he learned what his father had been keeping from him. At least you had some peace and quiet without Silva around for a good bit, though part of you figured he would never accept another long job seeing as something important had been kept from him because of it.

Regardless, you were comfortable and starting to doze off when an unexpected question snapped you awake.

"That doctor of yours, she's the one who set you free after Silva took Illumi from you, isn't she?"

Your surprise must have been clear on your face as Zeno simply nodded, not taking his eyes away from the large television screen you two had been watching. He didn't seem particularly surprised at the answer to his question, nor did he seem all that angry either. It was almost like he knew the whole time but still wanted you to confirm it before he accepted it as truth.

"Please don't-"

"I won't tell Silva. I figured that was the case when you had somehow managed to get out. There would have been no way for you to do it on your own and the only person who had access to you outside of the family was her. To tell you the truth, part of me had actually hoped that you would manage to get away. To escape this place."

"... Why?"

"Because in many ways you remind me of my own wife. Often I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't caught her after she escaped. If I hadn't hurt her as Silva did to you... Perhaps she would still be here today."

You were surprised to hear all of this, having been too worried of upsetting Zeno to ask about the fate of his wife. It seemed she had been in the same boat you were currently in, but it had killed her where you had managed to survive. Before you could ask any more questions about the mysterious woman Zeno spoke so rarely of, the door swung open with a familiar level of force that made you jump slightly in response.

Silva was home.

There wasn't even enough time for you to welcome him back before you were being pulled up into his large arms, feeling his forehead against your shoulder as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. His large hands easily cradled your body close to his own all while his lips roamed your soft skin feverishly. You were about to try and call out for him to stop for a moment before an old voice beat you to it.

"You can't fuck her, Silva."

"I can do what I wish with my wife, when I wish."

"Not while she's pregnant you can't."

All movement halted the moment Silva registered his father's words, tensing his entire body as he slowly came to terms with what he had been told. Silva moved rather slowly as he positioned you to be cradled in one of his large arms, his hand coming up to rest against your stomach which had already begun to swell up. He almost seemed to be in a trance while he stayed statue-still, sorting out both his thoughts and emotions on the realization.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Silva's voice was a deep and angered growl in his chest, sending shivers down your spine due to your proximity to the very man who could quite easily snap at any moment. Zeno seemed mostly unfazed by the aggressive growl and instead took to observing his sharp nails as if he were bored with the situation he found himself in. You really had to admire the old man's lack of fear while facing off with Silva, who you feared more than you cared to admit.

"Because you would have abandoned your job and that would be a terrible reflection on the Zoldyck family."

"She's been pregnant this whole time and you didn't damn well tell me?"

"Watch your tone, Brat. She's alive, isn't she?"

"How long have you known?"

"Since the very day you left. That morning was when she first began showing signs."

You felt the tension in Silva's body rise to near extreme levels, letting out a sharp cry as his grasp around your soft body tightened past the point of comfort. Your cry made Silva calm immediately and loosen his grasp so he no longer held you quite as tight. That cry seemed to have caused a temporary lapse in Silva's anger as he treated you with extreme care and gently set you back on the couch, giving you a quick once-over to check for any injuries he may have caused.

"Never again."

You looked up in confusion at Silva's lowly growled words, wondering just what he was talking about.

"I'll never leave you for that long again, I swear it."

~~~Six Months~~~

You lay in complete relaxation under your warm blanket, spooning a wonderfully soft pillow all while you dozed lightly on the couch. If anything, this pregnancy was far more... Relaxed... Than your first one had been. Silva seemed to be taking extra care to show nothing but the utmost affection towards you and your child during this whole ordeal and honestly it was doing wonders for you.

You still had that internal need to shield your stomach and your baby from the man who had caused all of this in the first place. This meant his caution around you and extra positive attention towards your unborn infant was all your brain needed to feel more secure in your fragile state even though such a dangerous man lurked nearby at all times. Silva got you anything you could possibly want the moment you brought it up regardless of what time it was or what he happened to be doing at the time you mentioned it.

Whatever food you wanted was immediately made and sent straight to you. If you wanted more blankets you need only shiver before countless blankets were being piled on top of you. Any vague sign of discomfort and Silva was immediately doing everything in his power to ease your troubles in whatever way he could.

You even got to see your first-born Illumi more than a few times as the young boy's presence soothed you immensely as did his sweet curiosity. Illumi may show little to no emotion, but what little he did show he only did so while near you. You could only smile at the memory of Illumi's large and curious eyes staring up at you questioningly while he rest his cheek against your swollen stomach.

"But how did it get in there?"

"Eh... I'll tell you when you're older, okay?"

"Okay. Hey, Mama?"

"Yes, Sweetheart?"

"I promise to take care of any little siblings I get to have."

"That's very sweet of you, Illumi, thank you, my darling."

"Anything for you, Mama."

Despite the odd behavior and almost frightening temper of your first-born, you felt more at ease than you had given the fact that you knew your son would always be on your side regardless of what may happen. Even with his cold demeanor, Illumi showed true affection for you and seemed rather insistent that you have nothing to worry about when it came to the future of your unborn child. At least you felt as if Silva learned his lesson to not take your children away from you too early as well as learning just what a positive impact your son has on you.

You were taking a rather wonderful and deep nap after getting to spend some time with Illumi and had recently awoken, content to just lay still and let yourself slowly wake up. The slow and gentle sound of footsteps drew your attention from hazy thoughts into sharp clarity, listening for whomever they belonged to. A large hand against your stomach almost made you tense up in fear, but the gentle way it lay against your skin kept you relaxed and calm.

"If you kill her, I will come for you next."

Cold jolted down your spine as you heard the low growled words against your stomach. Silva didn't often talk to your stomach or the life within unless it was to appease some request you made or to simply cheer you up. You were well aware that Silva would not handle your untimely demise in the slightest given just how distraught he would be at any idea of you being taken away from him.

You needed to keep your baby safe. But you felt like it was a near impossible task due to Silva hovering around you almost constantly. He certainly didn't take your condition lightly and considering how he received the news months after you did, you knew he refused to spend even an hour away from your side.

To some degree you appreciated the knowledge that nothing from outside of the estate could hurt you, but you also feared the fact that your husband took his 'protector' role rather seriously and could easily cause harm to you. He always said he wouldn't and yet you felt like you knew better, especially after your first several years with him. His lowly growled out words chilled you to your core and you only hoped that he would be in a much better mood once the child was safely out of you.

~~~~ 9 1/2 Months ~~~~

When the hell was it going to end!? You head read of some pregnancies lasting up to as long as a year, but you were getting more than a little tired and Silva's patience was near nonexistent.

"That rat is NOT allowed to keep you for so long. It's coming out today."

"Silva, for once would you just let me do things my way and decide what to do?"

"I am done waiting for it to come out on its own."

"What exactly do you plan to do?"

"Get the doctors to induce labor or just cut it out of you already."

"Would you just-"

You went cold and silent as a familiar feeling washed over you, feeling a slowly growing and rolling contraction beginning to tug at your insides. The panic in your expression seemed to tell him that something had happened and he immediately dropped the subject in favor of tending to you. You were barely aware of what seemed to be going on around you as another wave of dizziness washed over you along with a rather piercing contraction.

Silva stayed with you through it all, refusing to leave even as you were rushed into the delivery room. There was not one moment that passed that Silva wasn't letting you grip as tightly as you needed to his hand, speaking in a low rumble that he only reserved for rare moments of sensitivity.

Everything was primarily a blur to you, passing by in seconds that lasted hours and hours that lasted seconds. So when you finally heard that cry and a faint congratulations, you were already blacking out far too quickly to respond as your entire body achingly tried to reduce the tension in your over worked muscles.

Silva's heart rate jacked through the roof as you went limp in his arms, clearly something having gone wrong during delivery. The honest desperation in not only his actions, but in his very being seemed to leech out any other emotion, his eyes never leaving your face all while the doctor and nurses scrambled around you to do what they could. Silva had dealt with being alone while growing up and never wanted to experience it again, the simple idea of losing you causing the most blood-thirsty aura to spill from him.

If the sheer intimidation wasn't enough to get the medical staff working desperately, that cold glare Silva had locked them with sure as hell would be. There were no questions as to the nature of the consequences they face should they fail, the presence of the dangerous man only serving to add more stress unto the delivery room. The infant had been taken away somewhere quiet and safe so the doctor and nurses could focus on your suddenly poor condition, knowing that their only chance of survival was ensuring you survived.

Silva refused to move or leave or even look away from you before the doctor was able to say confidently that you would live. Even after that time came and passed as you were brought back to a stable condition, Silva had no intention to ever leave your side.

Thanks to the fact his father kept your condition a secret on favor of Silva completing a job, Silva refused to be away from you for any longer than a few days from then on. No more month long jobs that required him to leave you for large chunks of time, now he was committed to staying by your side as often as he possibly could. He adored you and honestly figured heirs weren't worth the risk of you dying, resolving to remove any pregnancy that may occur before you became aware of it.

Two was already too many for him. He didn't want to share you with anyone, but at least the two boys will keep his father off his back about continuing the family line.

He could deal with the brats, so long as everyone knew you were his. He adored you and kidnapped you just so he could get close to you, there's no way he would give you up for anything in the world. You were his world, and ue would protect you until the bitter end.

[the-blind-geisha]

Period’s putting me through hell (as usual), so if you’re feeling up to it, how ‘bout some period sexy times with Demiurge? Demons are carnivores so I’d imagine he’d go feral when his mate is menstruating ;)

A/N: Oof, so you're in my ballpark right now, huh? I'm enduring that hell too, and it's not fun when you also have Endo on top of it. Q_Q I feel that.

The scent of her once a month was always difficult for him. The smell of blood would trigger a predator response for Demiurge. If the blood was pure of smell, he would hurry to see if the female was alive just for the thought of dirtying her blood with deals of impurity and himself should he heal her. If they weren't, he would see how bad the injury was to strike a deal regardless, perhaps even try to steal the soul of his prey.

But he knew her. She was his, and he recognized the scent ever so often. He had only adjusted to it at the farm he ran as the female 'bipedal sheep' would bleed when they weren't pregnant. It was a frustrating thing to smell in terms of failure for reproduction, but with her...it was different.

He knew she would become lethargic, fall to her bed and be unable to do anything as the pain crippled her. But Demiurge had done research on this, figuring out more about it just to try and make it easier for her.

“If you're not adverse to the thought, my dear,” he began, “I can assist in relieving the cramping from you.”

She would take anything at this point. While a tonic would be ideal, she knew Demiurge had his more preferred method.

Without another word spared, he tore her pants off in haste. Inching closer, the aroma of the blood intensified. His tongue trailed along her inner thigh, wiping the dried marks from her skin. She hitched in breath, her fingers curling into a fist as the sigh from his crooked nose brushed the lips of her entrance.

He skirted around her womanhood, watching in glee as she twisted and turned from the euphoria trying to bite back the agony of her period. “F-Fuck...D-Demiurge...!”

Hearing her cries, the devil grinned widely. His tongue flicked away the crimson stain on his maw. Demiurge situated himself, his thighs pinning her in place. “I would advise you prepare yourself.” His hand gripped her throat, squeezing it gently at first to let her know what was to come. Inching closer to her ear, the words teased her as they breathed warmly on her, “I have other things I wish to do with you—to you.”

She couldn't ask. His grip tightened for a moment, as if threatening to deprive her of air. Her body going into fight mode, her toes tried to claw at his sides. It only encouraged the demon as he thrust forward to let her pain riddled body adjust to him.

Her eyes shot open, mouth as well was at a loss for words. Not like she could speak anyways. Demiurge's grip loosened ever slightly about her neck, allowing her the freedom to breathe a bit better. But that was only the beginning.

While his thrusting was pretty gentle at first, the loud sound of their thighs clashing together could be heard with every harsh union. He gritted his teeth, saliva dribbling from between them as he huffed in erotic fixation. Pulling slowly back, he thrust forward at such a harsh rate that her body jerked forward. He was completely sheathed within her. He did so again, loving the sound of a yelling cry that was bathed more in want of more than for him to stop.

She screamed in pleasure, which overwhelmed the pain. Just hearing Demiurge grunt upon each harsh impact made her body quiver in submission. Rarely would she ever have the honor of hearing the demon exert himself so forcefully, so it was a new sound...so welcome, and so intensifying for her budding orgasm.

But it wasn't over. Taking to his knees, he managed to scoop her up into his arms as he got to his feet. “Pray that the wall gives you the support you require,” he whispered with a twisted grin.

Her back was pressed firmly against the room's wall, Demiurge holding her up by his strength alone as he gripped onto her about the underside of her thighs. He continued to mark her, thrust up inside of her as the blood dribbled from their union and marked his cock upon every action he took.

Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head, making her forget how to breathe in the moment. What would have turned into a bud of agony twisted into elation. Again and again as her back rubbed harshly against the bedroom wall. The lewd, wet noises that filled the air were intoxicating. Demiurge's growling grew louder and louder upon every harsh thrust within her.

“You are mine...” The words growled, making her almost come to believe she was his prey.

Her walls wavered, squeezing down on him to where Demiurge vocally moaned at the sensation. She knew, in no time at all, she would come.

[bitches-soup]

what your favorite sapphic show says about you

she-ra: you’re a basic bitch, but honestly very chill and nice

the haunting of bly manor: you probably read a shit ton of sapphic yearning posts at 2 am

wynona earp: you definitely had an “i’m so edgy” phase in middle school

one day at a time: you are the mom of the friend group

the owl house: i feel like you used to be a she-ra stan, but now you just can’t stop watching little miss perfect and ordinary animatics

supergirl: i wish i had your amount of patience, and also you probably read a ton of fan fic

killing eve: no thoughts in your brain because that’s where villanelle lives

the 100: you can somehow live on even the tiniest sliver of representation, and you have a very intense love/hate relationship with the cw

legends of tomorrow: you’re kinda awkward, but actually so funny

euphoria: you’re very cool can we please be friends

atypical: you refuse to wear anything but flannels and converse

glee: you’re a theater kid

[kodzumie-archived]

hi! sorry, i think my request was too specific so lemme rephrase: poly! nagito x reader x kokichi, with a loving and considerate reader -💙

❝SWEETHEART’S CONVEYANCE❞

Synopsis; What are the the antongnistic duo like in a polyamorous relationship with a loving partner?

Featuring; Kokichi Oma x GN! Reader x Nagito Komaeda

Warning(s); Polyamorous, romantic relationship, self-degradation (Nagito), and suppression of vulnerability (Kokichi).

Kodzumie’s Note; Ahh, the original request wasn’t too specific, don’t worry, dear! But thank you for being so considerate! And also, thank you for being my first polyamory request! This request makes me so happy, I felt obligated to do it as soon as possible, hehe. And of course you can be our beloved 💙 anon! I’m so happy to have you with us! <3

➤ KOKICHI OMA & NAGITO KOMAEDA

⤷ Contrary to bystander belief, this relationship would be as boisterous as it is philanthropic; built upon a foundation of veiled compassion.

⤷ Whilst your boyfriends contradict traditional conveyance of affection, there’s no doubt they truly do appreciate you. But neither could compare to the benevolence you’ve granted the duo.

⤷ Albeit in rather old-school conveyance, you persistently seek forms of portrayal for your affections. Whether it be the occasional handwritten notes left beside the plates of breakfast you’d left behind for the two, each expressing your fondness and wishing them a wonderful rest of their day.

⤷ Or even the splurge of gifts for the two, purchasing trinkets you believe they’d enjoy. And, for every dollar spent, it’ll all be worth the million-dollar gleam that brushes upon their eyes.

⤷ Nagito infatuated with the idea that someone would dare spend money on scum like him, much less buy him something they insisted he’d be interested in. It’s a foreign sense, an exotic appreciation in which you’d taken the time out of your schedule to even think of him.

⤷ And as he’s about to spout his gratitude and disbelief upon such devotion to trash such as himself, he’s cut off by the infamous trickster himself.

⤷ “Save that crap. What about me? Where’s my gift? Huh, huh?” Kokichi’s petite stature leaning to the right as he attempts to catch a glimpse of what you could possibly have in store for him.

⤷ Paying no heed to the interruption of his valuation, Nagito smiles fondly as he eyes the amethyst-haired male eagerly bounces on the balls of his heels, awaiting his gift, though impatiently.

⤷ One would assume you’d get fed up at his persistent antics but, in all honesty, it was one of the many things you―along with Nagito―had appreciated.

⤷ Even amidst moments in which the air is stilled, tension doused in the form of metaphoric clouds above your heads, he’s bustling with a rowdiness that shows no hintings of dissipation.

⤷ And as you reveal the gadget hidden behind your back, presenting it to your practically vibrating-in-anticipation boyfriend, you swore not even the stars could capture the illumination of glee that brushed upon his lilac eyes. His hands reaching forward with such fervor that he was seemingly a blur within that very moment.

⤷ “You didn’t!” He professed in disbelief, lips split into a grand smirk as he eyes the gift you’d presented him; a water gun.

⤷ Albeit an inkling of concern swirled within your gut upon his sinister cackle as he testingly aims at Nagito, in which the taller male’s eyes widen in surprise as he raises his hands in surrender―his own gift within his left hand.

⤷ Upon Nagito’s reaction, Kokichi’s cackles morphed into wicked chuckles as he feigns to reload his water gun with imaginative ammo.

⤷ “That’s right, put ‘em up.” He jests. All the while, you rolled your eyes with an amused visage of your own at the sight of your shorter boyfriend’s antics.

⤷ A Pavlovian reaction from the younger male, eagerly jumping the gun—quite literally—and pestering Nagito to engage in his games, claiming he’d be the perfect companion. (Though, by this, it usually meant the perfect individual to carry him piggyback due to his tall stature.)

⤷ Nonetheless, the sight of your boyfriends joining forces against you with the gift you’d bought is undeniably one you cherish. Even as you sprint full speed through the household, dodging the blasts of water aimed towards you.

⤷ Despite Nagito’s persistent insistence that you’d be better suited to entertain Kokichi than a mere nobody like him, the aforementioned amethyst-haired male that assures him he’s the only one capable.

⤷ It isn’t the common occurrence to be of witness to Kokichi’s considerate moments; withdrawing himself from his playful nature to build another’s esteem.

⤷ And thus, it’s even more satisfying to bask in Nagito’s united laughter with Kokichi’s manic cackles as you narrowly avoid a blast of water. The former carrying the ladder on his back—rather easily due to how light Kokichi is—and dashing after you.

⤷ It’s a laugh so carefree—so riddled in unhindered joy—you almost couldn’t believe this was the same, unabashed laugh of your self-degrading boyfriend.

⤷ Not even Kokichi was immune to the flurry of butterflies within the encompass of your stomachs as he, too, smiled giddily upon the melodic laughter, a roseate decorating his pallid cheeks in momentary euphoria.

⤷ In the beginnings of your gifts, Nagito struggled immensly to accept them. Even as he blushed a hue so fiercely—face burning with awe as sweat began to dampen his rosette skin—he insisted he couldn’t accept any gift from someone of your ethereality.

⤷ He swore up and down that he was already taking far too much of you and Kokichi by intruding on the relationship, much less, garner your affections.

⤷ Though, with time, he steadily learned to see past the hindrance of his self-loathing, it was still rather difficult to bear witness to the one who’d claimed both of your hearts to avoid your conveyances due to their poor views of themself.

⤷ Much to your delight, he’s now discovering value within himself as he peers through the lens of you and Kokichi’s combined love. It’s a gradual process but one that you’re more than willing to wait for to see the treasure of Nagito truly loving—if not love—than tolerating himself.

⤷ With every conveyance of your affections, you hope that your love can be transferred to the two, and assist them in melting through the walls of their hindrances; their shields in which they’d desperately hid their vulnerabilities from the world.

⤷ Whether it be through the gifts in which your taller boyfriend would insist that he was undeserving of and promise to return the favor with a gift of his own whilst the shorter would use your gifts against you, similarly to the water gun incident, comically; love letters; domestic care; reassuring consolation; service.

⤷ Anything that could possibly provide insight of the affectiom you’d withheld for the two, you’d committed to with a fiery passion. Not a trace of hesitancy or delay.

⤷ Typically, within the day-to-day, you and Nagito would withhold a majority of the materate responsibilities. Though Nagito eagerly offers to take the workload upon himself entirely, there’s no denying the softening of his eyes as you reject his offer and, rather, offer to take the workload off of him.

⤷ He appreciates your insistence, especially the way you’d put his wellbeing within the realm of priority. A hierarchy he’d never considered himself within, so to think that you could do so much as care for his state is more than he could ever ask for.

⤷ Truth be told, one of Nagito’s favorite domestic activities to complete alongisde you is laundry. The intimacy of being able to sit alongside you and fold the articles of clothing whilst chatting, blissfully distracted, is serene.

⤷ More so, the lighthearted, momentary comedic relief of revealing that your underwear was within his clutches is always a treat. Especially when you’d rapidly swipe the garment with the inklings of embarrassment within your grin.

⤷ Though he does have quite a habit of sniffing the fresh clothing. The extent to which he does so is—by bystander perspective—questionable, but he promises that he merely adores the cleanliness of the warm clothing. (And that even after the garments trip through the washing machine, there still is the lingering of both his lovers’ scents.)

⤷ Kokichi has offered to help at times—though usually with an intentional entirely other than to actually do laundry. The petite, amethyst-haired trickster sedentary between you and Nagito as he sloppily folds the clothes.

⤷ It’s blatant that his mind is elsewhere as he appears less than pleased whilst assisting. Even offering to “spice things up” and tosses a pair of socks at you and Nagito with a wicked giggle.

⤷ Sometimes he’ll even steal some of your—you and Nagito’s—clothes and wear them while working, claiming they make his Ultimate Supreme Leader senses at top-notch. To which Nagito agrees with, mindlessly, as he mumbles something about wanting to appease the wishes of a leader.

⤷ But, of all the domestic activities Kokichi has taken part in—not much but still—he claims that cooking together has to be his favorite.

⤷ Not only because he adores being the taste-tester—of course, as the Ultimate Supreme Leader, he must test it first to assure that it’s adequate for his beloveds—but because he’s enamored with the teamwork; the collaboration.

⤷ Not within a lifetime will Kokichi ever explicitly confess such, but he admires the notion of teamwork. To make a collaborative effort and genuinely place dependence upon one another to reach an end goal... he finds the idea to be so far from the encompass of his will that he adores the conception of it.

⤷ He, himself, struggles with depending on others. Opting for completing everything on his own and taking charge in the form of claiming stake upon the workload.

⤷ So being able to ask of you to grab something and to be able to complete the order asked of him—he’s usually the mixer—it’s euphoric for him. And, along with this, he truly does enjoy cooking.

⤷ Though his skills are rather questionable due to only being able to properly create a selective variety of dishes. But when he does succeed, it’s an absolute delight to be able to taste it. Nagito sometimes claims the dishes to be something akin to that of an Ultimate Chef.

⤷ A love delievered through the swan-sunken eyes of sensuality, fingers brushed upon one another as you go about your daily lives, is a love in which your two lovers value above all. To be cared for even when there are other priorities, it’s empowering.

⤷ However, amidst the serenity of the closest of affections, nothing can counter their equally preferred time of day; the nighttime cuddles.

⤷ Laying atop the mattress that could just about fit the three of you, entangled limbs drawing each of you closer as the warmth of the blanket barely rivals that of your bodies. Each of your breaths rhythmic of one another.

⤷ Kokichi’s form—by his drowsy request—between your bodies as he rests his back against Nagito’s chest, gazing up at you with a rare yet genuine grin riddled with the inklings of slumber.

⤷ The aforementioned male coiling his arms around the waist of your boyfriend, too, has his arm extenting outwards towards you, pulling you into the spooning as well. Much to Kokichi’s delight, the ladder instantaneously latching his legs around your hips, pulling you into his arms.

⤷ Yet the most blissful of these moments in which true adorations lie is the most miniscule of all. It’s so peaceful; such tranquility to be within each other’s arms as each of you is gradually lulled to sleep.

⤷ And yet, it’s as uneventful as it is impactful. Perhaps it was the nights in which each of your boyfriends felt sleep come easier? Perhaps it was the warmth of your collective bodies that brought upon the savory bliss?

⤷ Or perhaps it was the way that as each of them gazed upon—meeting your eyes with each of their infatuated own—there was a fire alit. One in which, after the periods in which you’ve all spent together; learned together; changed together, had never seemed to fade.

⤷ Not even as they, too, know they’re pushing your limits, irritating you to no bounds. Not even as they find their moment sin which they’re far too sluggish to be of decent assistance. Not even during the meltdowns in which they’d shut you out of their heart and recline to their suppressive defense.

⤷ There was never a moment in which the flames of had dwindled; an eternal ember of compassion. Not even throughout the sabotage of their demeanor. And not even as you flutter your eyes shut, enveloping slumber within your embrace.

⤷ The searing of love within your eyes had never faltered and that, on its own, is enough to reign over each of their hearts—assuring them that they, truly, are lovable without condition—and lull them to sleep as well.

[writings-of-dumpy]

Everybody Talks: George Weasley Smut

A/N: Yes, here it is--George Weasley smut. 18+ only. Warnings: unprotected sex and language

Summary: Based on the song “Everybody Talks” by Neon Trees. George is called a player often, but when Y/N overhears that her boyfriend slept with someone else, he has to make her see that everybody talks, but it doesn’t matter.

Fred and George were always the most sought-after pair in Gryffindor house, and Y/N was not immune to that. She often found herself looking at the boys in her year as she got older, and she couldn’t help but gain a small crush on one Weasley in particular. The twins had subtle differences about them that sometimes Y/N thought only she could pick up on. She could hear her fellow housemates talk about Fred and George as a single unit, which made her slightly uncomfortable knowing that they were different people even though they often weren’t referred to that way.

They had a reputation, too. Y/N could barely go two days without hearing about George’s latest sexcapade from a gushing girl in the Great Hall. She couldn’t lie to herself, it stung slightly. She felt like she was the only one George hadn’t paid mind to even though she paid him plenty of mind. He lived in her thoughts almost always.

As luck would have it, at the beginning of their seventh and final year at Hogwarts, she would be lucky enough to finally have the one she’d been crushing on sit next to her in herbology. Little did she know that George had his eye on her for quite some time now and he had practically begged professor Sprout to assign seats with him next to Y/N.

He had noticed that in the brief interactions, Y/N would always address them correctly. He didn’t know how she could tell them apart when their own mother sometimes couldn’t. He didn’t blame his wonderful mum, they were identical after all. But as for the students and even teachers at Hogwarts, they were almost never right when they approached the twins. Throughout the years, they had just been lumped together as the Weasley Twins. George didn’t resent it, though, he just found it annoying sometimes. He felt bad for feeling bad, though, because he and Fred were often together and shared similar interests. But then, when Y/N called him by his name for the first time, he knew she was different from the rest of the school. They were fifteen at the time, and George had craved her attention ever since. He hadn’t had the wherewithal to go with her to the Yule Ball because he was asked by a girl in Gryffindor who he didn’t know the name of. That was the other thing about George—he didn’t like to disappoint. He was a people pleaser and he didn’t want to make this girl sad because she seemed so incredibly nervous to even ask him that he couldn’t help but say yes to her.

But now, George finally had a chance with Y/N and he didn’t want to mess that up. He sat next to her and smiled at her with a charming look in his eye.

“Hello there, Y/N,” he said. She smiled at him.

“Hi George, good to see you,” she said to him with pink cheeks. The pair became fast friends and George wished he hadn’t waited so long to talk to her. It was clear that they both enjoyed a good joke and had a similar sense of what that consisted of. After herbology, he decided to shoot his shot with her.

“I know we’re not super close friends or anything, but I’d like to invite you to drinks at The Three Broomsticks with me and the rest of the team after the match on Friday?” he asked her with a shy smile. “As my date?”

Y/N blushed and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll meet you after. And I’ll cheer for you, of course.”

George felt satisfied with the answer and he beamed all the way to his next class and throughout the rest of the day. After these past couple years of crushing on her, he finally had the chance to make her his.

Y/N went to the Quidditch match in high spirits. She had heard all week that various girls were asked to the party by George, and she hoped that they were just fictitious because she longed to be the only one George was after. She’d find out soon enough, though, because George had wanted to meet her in the courtyard by the pathway to Hogsmeade after the match. After the match she made her way there and found that she and Hermione were the only ones in that area. She smiled and waved at Y/N politely.

Y/N waved back and smiled. She knew those rumors were false, and she said to herself then that she couldn’t be bothered by the rumors girls spread about George. They waited for about three minutes before Y/N saw a familiar head of ginger hair approach her with a goofy grin on his face.

“Hello, love, are you excited?” he asked, and Y/N’s stomach turned in the most pleasant way possible. She smiled and nodded. George offered his arm to her and she took it with a wide grin. It was nice to walk and talk with George. Y/N asked him about Quidditch rules as she had only attended the matches when her house was playing, and George’s face lit up when he talked about the sport. He made several hand gestures as he explained the game and his role in it as Beater, but his strong arm never let go of her. Y/N hung on his every word and she almost didn’t realize that they were almost to The Three Broomsticks at this point.

“Sounds like you’re an expert on the game, Georgie,” Y/N said with a grin. George’s face flushed at the nickname and he smiled ear to ear.

“Thanks, love. I do enjoy it, so I get a bit carried away,” he explained and reached for the door to open it for her.

“I like it when you get carried away. It’s nice to listen to people talk about the things they’re passionate about,” Y/N said and walked into the pub with a nod of thanks to him. When they were both inside, Y/N scanned the room and found a large table filled with the Gryffindor team and a few others that she didn’t recognize, who she assumed were friends or significant others.

“Hey, everyone,” George greeted. Fred’s eyes went wide in delight upon seeing his brother and Y/N on his arm.

“Well, look who’s finally got a date,” Fred said and took a sip of his butterbeer, and George shot him a look. Y/N smiled and waved to the team.

“Congratulations, guys. It was really fun to watch,” Y/N said to the team and they all smiled at her and raised a glass. George let her sit and he took his place next to her and Y/N felt his arm wrap around her shoulders, which sent butterflies to her middle.

After a few rounds of butterbeer, the table dispersed as the team expressed their exhaustion. George helped Y/N up and she blushed and thanked him. Throughout the night she had felt his thumb gently rubbing the outside of her arm and each time he made the sweet gesture, she felt more confident in being around him and she was sure her cheeks were pink most of the night.

“Did you have fun?” Y/N asked him once they were alone and walking through the corridors towards Y/N’s house common room.

“I enjoyed every minute with you. I hope you feel the same,” George said in a voice smoother and sweeter than honey.

Y/N blushed deeper and nodded. “It was a lovely time.” When they reached her common room entrance, George turned her to him and stood close to her.

“I have a small confession to make, love,” George said in a low voice.

Y/N’s breath was caught in her lungs and her heart pounded. “Oh?”

“I happen to fancy you quite a bit… And if you’d like, I want to take you out more, but just the two of us… exclusively, if you get my drift…” George clarified to Y/N with rosy cheeks and a small smile.

Y/N was dumbfounded. She couldn’t believe that he felt that way about her. She smiled and nodded. “You want me to be your girlfriend?”

George nodded. “If you’ll have me.”

Y/N was ecstatic and nodded her head. “I would like that very much. I’ve never had a boyfriend before, so you better be a good one, Weasley,” she teased.

George laughed and stepped closer to her with a grin. “Wouldn’t dream of being anything but, Y/L/N.”

The pair laughed and even though they were saying goodbye, neither made the move to do so. Y/N felt George inching closer to her as his hand smoothed over her waist. Y/N’s smile turned to a bitten lower lip as George’s face closed in on hers. She could feel the warmth from his cheeks radiate off of him and on to her.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked in a whisper. Y/N nodded and their lips met with gentle desire. The kiss was more than a peck, but as sweet and simple as one. As it went on, their growing feelings drove them to a more heated moment. George supported her against him, and as the moment got more intense, he pinned her against the wall. When they broke away for air, they looked at each other for a second and laughed in glee at the euphoria they felt, but noticed the portraits giving them judgmental looks.

“Erm… I’ll see you tomorrow?” George offered and backed himself away from Y/N. She nodded and smiled with swollen lips. It was when she entered her common room that George noticed his lips aching and he felt them swell a bit.

As the year went on, George and Y/N became closer and closer and their love blossomed, and all was bliss... or so Y/N thought. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew that everybody talked about her and George. Rumors spewed that they had broken up at least once a week, but all of them were crushed when George got wind of them and made a scene of kissing Y/N deeply in the middle of the hallway.

“Mister Weasley, that’s inappropriate,” McGonagall would say and George would wink and smile at Y/N as she headed to class. Y/N would love it when that happened, truly, because it reassured what she already knew to be true: George only had eyes for her.

But one day towards their graduation date, Y/N overheard a Slytherin girl gushing about how she and George had hooked up the night prior. The gaggle of girls around her demanded explicit details, and she provided them. Y/N shot the group a dirty and annoyed look, and the storyteller shrugged and sent back a sickeningly smug look.

Y/N left the room and immediately searched for George. Everybody talks, but not like this. Y/N knew that George had a reputation for being a player, but she had never heard such explicit details. She felt hurt and betrayed, and she didn’t want to believe it.

“Either let me in or send George Weasley out, please,” she said to the Fat Lady.

“Trouble, dear?” the portrait asked in a concerned tone.

“Just… I just need to talk to George,” Y/N said becoming more worried by the second.

“About what, my dear?” George’s voice said from behind Y/N. She turned and his face dropped.

“Come on, let’s go in…” he said and lead her through to the common room. Y/N was lucky that everyone cleared out once the pair walked into the room because the conversation they were about to have was going to be one that Y/N classified in her mind as highly private.

“What happened, my love?” George asked her with concern in his voice and his hands touching her elbows as her arms were crossed. He looked deep into her eyes and Y/N knew she was being foolish. George had never given her any reason to believe he was being unfaithful or that he ever wanted anyone else, but here she was feeling hurt over what she had overheard.

“I feel so stupid, but I just… I feel like I have to hear it from you,” Y/N said. “It’s horrible, I know, and I’m so sorry…”

George furrowed his brows. “What are they saying about me now?”

“That you and Justine hooked up last night. She just had so much detail, it was hard to shut her down… It made me think that maybe it was true, but…” Y/N said and finished her sentence with a shake of her head.

“I never thought I’d see the day when their words would get in the way…” George said in disbelief. Y/N looked at him with worry. George placed a hand on her face and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Are you mad?” Y/N asked.

George shook his head. “No… I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you. It just means I have to show you how I really feel about you, dear…”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, but her confusion ceased when George attached his mouth to hers with fervor. He had never kissed her like this before. Y/N’s chest heaved with every breath she took and her heart pounded in her chest. She felt his hands run from her cheek to gripping the back of her head as he kissed her feverishly. His lips dragged along her cheek to give her jaw and ear deep and sometimes wet kisses.

“See them talk after this,” George muttered. His lips latched onto Y/N’s neck and she felt his tongue caress her throat, then the small pain of his teeth latching on and sucking the flesh into his mouth. She gasped aloud and George pulled her closer and bit and sucked harder at her neck. Y/N thought about how purple and red the bruise would be when she looked at it later. For now, though, it felt too good to be true. The words Justine had used to describe George’s love bites were not only inaccurate but not even a shadow of the magnitude of care he took into placing it.

“Only one for me, see?” George whispered into Y/N’s ear once he had been sated with the depth of purple he had made on her neck. Y/N looked at him with starry eyes and George smirked.

“Come on,” he said and gripped her hand. The two left the common room and George purposefully held onto her tightly as he passed boys and girls alike. When they finally reached an empty hallway, a door suddenly appeared on a blank wall to the left of them.

“Hogwarts, you never disappoint,” he said with a grin. He opened the door for a very confused Y/N. She eyed him with suspicion and walked in to find a simple room with a fireplace, a bathroom, and rather large bed with a canopy. The window showed a wonderful view of the Black Lake and Y/N looked and saw students milling about.

“How did you know about this place?” Y/N asked.

“It’s called the Room of Requirement. Fred and I found it a couple years ago and he likes to take girls here, so I figured I’d give it a shot,” George said with a wink.

“So it’s like a shagging room? No offense, but I absolutely do not want to fuck on a bed your brother has done it in,” Y/N said aghast.

George laughed and wrapped his arms around Y/N. “The room makes it different every time, and perfectly tailored to those who need it.”

Y/N felt better about that reassurance and relaxed a bit in his embrace.

“Now where were we, my love?” George said with a devilish smirk and pulled Y/N closer to the point where she could feel his crotch growing and hardening. She blushed and licked her lips before initiating a deep and passionate kiss. He once more pressed her against the wall in a frantic kiss and she quieted a moan.

“No need for that, my dear. Nobody can hear you in here. But I can and I want to hear you,” George whispered in her ear and sent a chill down her spine. Y/N felt his hands move to her hips and his fingers danced their way to the skin under her shirt. She pressed her hips against him as a signal to continue his movements and George let his hands dance up her shirt. His long and slender fingers made quick work of removing her torso of the clothes she wore. Y/N blushed a deep red and made her way to kiss him more to avoid his lustful gaze, but he moved too quickly for her and attached his lips to her breast. He made quick work of marking the area with his teeth and lips.

Y/N felt vulnerable and tugged at his shirt to take it off to even the odds. George caught the hint and completely removed the garment and tossed it aside next to where Y/N’s had landed. George blushed and pulled her towards the bed, where their mouths found each other once more and he sat her on the bed while he remained standing to remove his trousers and briefs. Y/N felt his lips leave hers as he struggled with shaky hands to undo the buckle of his belt. Y/N smiled then got to her knees and helped him remove the constricting fabric. He freed his penis from the tight hold of his briefs and Y/N licked her lips. George helped her to her feet and laid her back on the soft bed. He removed her panties and crawled over her with a hungry look in his eyes. His pupils were blown and his mouth hung agape as he visually drank her in. Y/N felt insecure under his gaze and felt her body couldn’t compare to the greatness his possessed. He wasn’t all muscle, but he was built well with an athlete’s muscles. She made an attempt to shy away from him, but he locked their fingers together above her head and her eyes were met with his.

“You never have to hide from me. I love all of you. Every single piece,” he declared to her. She smiled and kissed his lips sweetly.

George was nothing but generous in bed. Y/N wasn’t sure how much experience he had, but it didn’t matter because his movements made it clear to her that she was his and he was hers, completely and absolutely. He moved within her with purpose and each time Y/N moaned, he repeated the movement until he could get her to feeling that way once more.

“Feeling good, love?” he asked frequently in a low voice. Y/N would sometimes nod, but sometimes all she could answer with was a moan of pleasure. George grinned when she displayed such pliancy and responsiveness to his touch. Y/N did her best to help him feel good, too and moved her hips along with his. He threw his head back and let out a moan that had they not been in an invisible and sound-proof room, the entire tower would have heard. Y/N trembled at the sound he emitted and let out a small whimper as her climax neared.

“George, please,” she moaned. George smiled at her with love in his eyes. He kissed her lips deeply and quickened his pace within her and buried his head in the crook of her neck.

“Y/N, please… Love, I’m…” he moaned in her ear.

After several moments of bliss, and the only sounds that Y/N could hear were George’s confessions of love and praises in her ear that she echoed into his, she felt George still and tense as she concluded he had finished. Y/N smiled and blushed that she could bring him to completion like that. He sat up and pulled out of her with a questioning look.

“Did you..?” he asked. Y/N bit her lip and averted her gaze while trying to avoid the question. “That won’t do at all.”

Before Y/N could protest, his fingers made quick work of finding her clitoris and Y/N jumped in surprise. He rubbed slow circles at first, then as Y/N became more worked up, he sped up his pace and soon Y/N was becoming undone in front of him. She felt herself writhe uncontrollably and cry out his name as she was washed in pleasure. George held her through it and smiled sweetly down at her. He kissed her gently along her shoulder, then her neck, then her cheek, and landed on her lips.

“Let them talk, but you needed to know that you’re the only one for me,” George said to Y/N, who smiled and laughed.

[ellitx]

Aegis | Venti x Reader

How both of them wished just being together would last forever.

a little “sequel” to Till We Meet Again

word count: 1.5k

        The leaves slowly fluttered in the air whilst birds were singing their songs as they perched on the thick branch of the big tree in Windrise.

        Venti clutched her hand as she hugged him from behind. He peered at [Name] and leaned back to rest his head on her shoulder, heaving a sigh. The female can feel his hair ticking against her cheeks making her giggle much to the bard’s delight. His lips tugged upwards and cupped her face with his hand.

        [Name] let him do as he pleased, not bothered by their close contact. As much as she hated to admit it, she really loves it. 

        This serene and calm setting with the two alone together just enjoying both of their presence. She didn’t want this to end, she wished that nothing will change.

        Her heart fluttered at the thought and made her cheeks heat up. Venti let out a small laugh when he felt the temperature increased on his hand. Oh, she forgot he was still holding her face. She puffed her cheeks and buried her face on his tousled hair.

        His scent was so sweet and smelled like fresh Cecilias. [Name]’s hold tightened onto him and just take pleasure in the moment they have together. Venti closed his eyes and started humming as he fiddled with the female’s [hair color] locks between his thumb and index finger. 

        Unbeknownst to her, he slipped his arm behind her head and pushed her forward until their temples made a contact with each other.

        “Do you know how much I’m grateful that you always come here?” He whispered softly like the breeze, admiring how her [eye color] orbs were traced with affection and tenderness.

        “Every single day, I was hoping you’d come to see me. With a smile adorning with glee, that is how I always foresee.” He continued, his gaze continuing to hold with hers.

        [Name] let out a small laugh and pushed him away playfully. Her cheeks reddened once more at his words. Venti smiled at her and returned to lean against her shoulder. That was the smile he always wanted to view. 

        Just pure happiness.

        The girl brought her face closer to his and pecked his cheek. Teal eyes widened and gawked at [Name]’s intimate act, but was later changed to a mischievous smirk. 

        “I didn’t know you were that kind of person.”

        “Admit it, you like it.” She retorted.

        His chuckle was light and laced with a hum of amusement at the matter. “And if I do, do I get another kiss?” He teased at her.

        “No.”

        “Eh?! [Name]~!! Please…?” The bard begged and faced her fully. His front furrowed, a small frown depicting his features, and large puppy dog eyes as if pleading. “No means no, Venti.” She huffed at him and rested her back against the trunk of the tree.

        “Please~?” 

        [Name] sighed for an umpteenth time and before she can deny him, a small yelp escaped from her lips and she was immediately tackled onto the grassy field. 

        “V-Venti!! Get off of me!” She pushed him away but much to her dismay he won’t budge. “Not until you give me that kiss first!” He crossed his arms and turned his head away from her like a child not getting candy.

        “F-fine!”

        Hearing that, his eyes sparkled and pulled her up to a sitting position. He tugged her towards him and grabbed [Name]’s arms to slip it around his torso, retracing their previous cuddling session. 

        The female was now trapped between his arms and her face turned rosy. They were so close that their nose was almost touching. Venti tried to suppress his giggling but ended up letting out a soft chuckle from his lips.

        “Where’s my kiss, that will lead me to eternal bliss, my dear?”

        Oh, how his words always tease her heart to a fluttery mess and rapidly beating nonstop. Her lips wavered in embarrassment which the bard noticed. Nonetheless, he patiently waited for those sweet lips of hers to make contact with his cheek.

        [Name] gulped down her nervousness and slowly led her lips to his ears to whisper.

        Venti was confounded and stunned when her voice lulled his ears, her words took him by surprise before his mouth was shaped into a tender and gentle smile.

        “I know.”

        Eyes were shuttering as he said that and relished the softness of her lips against his face. Her kiss lasted longer than he expected. A sigh of pure euphoria left him and stroked her features with his finger.

        Once again, he brought her face closer to his and brushed his lips on her temple.

        “I know.” He repeated.

        Now it was [Name] who was leaning on his shoulder and trifle with his twin braids. She played the tips and admire how well black and aqua complemented each other. There are times she saw it glow into cyan but only for a second. 

        Venti admired the bright blue sky and birds flapping their wings to wander the land of freedom. His gaze was crestfallen and slightly disheartened it’s almost time.

        He didn’t want to let her go. 

        He continued to hold her in his arms and just brought her closer to him. He buried his face on the crook of her neck and wished to make this moment last forever.

        But he knows, this was about to end. 

        “[Name].” 

        The said female looked up at him with a curious look, continuing to play with his hair. 

        “It’s time.” His words made her quirk her eyebrow and sat up. “What do you mean?”

        What was he talking about? What does he mean by it’s time? What’s going to happen?

        Venti cupped her cheeks and moved forward to give her a light kiss on her head and said in a hushed voice.

          “Please wake up.”

 —

         Albedo continued to check if there were any signs of the teenager to wake up. It’s been almost 2 days [Name] had passed out from what happened days ago. He was mostly the one taking care of her with Sucrose and Noelle assisting him. 

        He paused all of his research and focused on tending the [hair color] back to a good condition. The Knights of Favonius always checked up on her to see how she’s doing. Everyone was worried about her. 

        Klee stopped creating explosive stuff when she received the news of what happened to her older sister figure. She and Albedo made several Dodoco toys and stated that these will accompany [Name] while she’s away. It brought a smile to his face and appreciated the thought. 

        He made sure there were no explosive kinds of stuff inside before placing it next to the sleeping female.

        Lisa didn’t get a good rest and was having trouble sleeping at night. There were obvious dark marks surrounding her lower eyelid which peeved the Chief Alchemist. He created a potion for her to drink, which can be put in her tea if she wanted to, so she can sleep.

        “I can handle this.” He reassured the librarian. 

        Almost everyone was relying on him. He didn’t mind, he was also worried sick when Jean and Lisa discussed this with him. Albedo blamed himself for not noticing [Name]’s behavior these past months. He was always lock up inside his research lab, which even made him forgot of what was currently happening because of his intensive focus on his works.

        He gazed at her resting figure with a guilt look plastered on his face. 

        If he rested for a bit and accompanied [Name], would this ever prevent from causing her like this? 

        From the corner of his eyes, he saw her fingers twitched a bit. His mint green eyes lighted up and slowly approach her bed to observe.

        [Eye color] eyes gently fluttered open, but Albedo was taken by surprise when tears were already created from the corner of her eyes. 

        It hurts.

        This was his fault.

        He bit his lip when he can feel his heart tugged in regret. He took a nearby chair and placed it next to her bedside. [Name] seemed to be still unaware of his presence. 

        He knows that.

        The Chief Alchemist brushed his finger to wipe the tears that kept dripping. He continued to stay silent and waited for her to regain her composure. He grabbed the pitcher and poured it into the glass, placing it on the little cabinet beside her bed.

        The stillness continued to linger inside the room but it wasn’t the awkward nor the pleasant type of silence.

        He knows she wanted comfort, but is it really alright? If he just initiated a hug, how would she react? Will she push him away? Or will she hold onto him like before?

        He was so hesitant. He was so lost in his thoughts until he felt a jerk on his coat. His eyes were fixated on her. Even though she continues to keep her gaze on the window and blankly stared at the sunny morning, 

        he knew this was the sign.

        He didn’t go for a hug. No, such close contact will break her down. He wanted her to recover slowly, so instead, he brought his hand on top of hers and just grasp it with his. Reassuring her that he’s here.

final chapter: [Twig]

[tuiyla]

talking about characters' aesthetic eras, I was actually thinking that the costumes in the first 3 seasons of Glee kind of exist in an alt-reality. Like, I don't think teens in 2010 were actually dressing like Quinn, Rachel, Kurt, Mercedes, etc. Even Tina's goth look has a sort of timelessness that you could envision her showing up in a teen movie today or in 1988. The clothes are almost so out of style, they circle right back around to never really seeming outdated, if that makes sense? And the costumes are so specific to each character, that you feel like you could see the clothes on a rack and still know "that's an Artie sweater, not a Kurt" or "that skirt is too full and bouncy for Rachel". I do feel like they lost the plot in later seasons, where it just felt more and more like they were styling for the actors instead of the characters.

(also, ngl, a lot of these thoughts were inspired by a "Cassie Howard vs. Quinn Fabray" tiktok, where the ONLY battle Cassie won was style, and I was so personally offended. Like yes, Quinn can be too prissy and formal, but damn, at least she HAS a style that fits her very specific "look but never touch" vibe perfectly)

I'd say Mercedes was representative of the era. Keep in mind, I really don't know what I'm talking about in terms of fashion but I was a teen in the 2010s and to all those who weren't (in the early 10s at least), you'd be surprised. Some of it had an out of time feel for sure, I agree, I just don't think none of it was representative.

And yeah Kevin and Jenna talked on both pods about the very character-specific costuming and I think that's such a neat part of the show. Whether it was of its time or not, each character had a specific sense of style. No two animal sweaters are the same because one is Rachel's and one is Brittany's. Quinn's dresses are different from Tina's and different from Santana's. You know what Blaine would wear. And that's impressive to someone like me who really doesn't pay that much attention. I'm a story girlie, I'm a character girlie, camera girlie, pretty much everything else before I'm a costume girlie. But even I could pick out which outfit goes to what ch.

I'd like to think costuming stayed more consistent even when the writing didn't but we have things like Rachel morphing into Lea Michele and Santana's s5 style being completely different from s2 so who knows. It's something worth paying attention to.

I think that's the Euphoria girl and if she is she WISHES she was Quinn Fabray, no high school fight could ever be "stop the violence". But such is teen TV, building on Glee's foundations. Also holy shit you described her vibe so well. Look but never touch. Unless, and then we have BIG problems.

[sunjaesol]

canon juke fluff based on “till forever falls apart” by ashe and finneas

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Raucous laughter disappeared in a snap as the door slammed behind her. Her feet stumbled from the sudden change, finding her balance again and then hopping towards the garden gate. She left a glitter trail in her wake.

Julie turned seventeen today. She knew it’d be special the second she woke up, Carlos blaring ‘Dancing Queen’ like a little shit before her alarm clock went off. It was the most brotherly way he could congratulate her and she loved him for it. (Not after she chased him though - who the hell did that?!)

Flynn came by during breakfast, phasing through Alex without realising as she placed a glittery crown atop Julie’s curls. It was plastic and clunky and the number 17 was pink and glowed in the dark. Luke sat on the kitchen island teasing her for it, Reggie helping Ray make pancakes and yelling he wanted one too. It was barely seven am and her day was the best.

At school, she was showered with birthday wishes and her Instagram flooded with messages of people that confirmed they’d come to her party.  

Despite everything, her traitorous thoughts always ended up in the same spot. Luke. He teased her at breakfast, but he didn’t hug her like Alex and Reggie. He didn’t poof beside her as she walked down the driveway to quickly impart a joke or a secret or a lyric, something for her to mull about on the trek to school with Flynn. There was nothing.

On the one hand, it could just be pre-performance jitters. Luke took every gig a hundred percent seriously and got pretty intense if a lot of people were going to be watching. If he didn’t set the stage on fire in one song, he’d feel like he failed. So yeah, Julie allowed herself to think that was the case for his absentmindedness.

If only she didn’t know him so well. She knew it was something else entirely. She knew it had to do with her age; the fact that she aged. It was hard to not let it temper her birthday excitement, but all she wished for (just like when she blew out her candles for her sixteenth birthday) was for them to hide in her daydreams and be together without qualms. That he was hers.

Luke and her have made plenty of mistakes over the two years that they’ve known each other. Falling in love wasn’t one. She couldn’t believe that - even if he’d given her mixed signals since their fated gig at The Orpheum.

The party was a hit. Dad bought a big peanut butter chocolate cake and they played their best set ever, the studio decorated in an explosion of flowers and butterflies and streamers. Julie was in a glittery purple dress, the crown to match, each lyric coming from her lips laced with glee and pink lemonade. That perpetual thrill coursing through her as she danced with Reggie and hyped up Alex and - her favourite part of all - shared the mic with Luke. His aloof behaviour from before was gone then, coming towards her in that greedy way that made her heart stutter out of place.

Julie wondered if anyone ever believed he was a hologram prior to the band ‘moving to America’. How could they, when he’s always looked so alive and real and warm and with his eyes so intently on hers that it felt like he bore through her, straight to her soul.

Pushing through the sensation, she shot him a teasing grin and returned to the piano.

After the set, Flynn put her DJ skills to good use and put on a killer playlist. Julie danced until her feet ached, sang along until her throat hurt, ate cake until she was full. She was happy and seventeen. As the hours went by, more and more classmates trickled away, ending with her family hoarding the kitchen island as they ate the remnants of cake. All except one.

It hurt. Julie knew Luke was brooder - but on her birthday? Because he couldn’t handle it? Tomorrow, she'd be on her way to surpass them. First Reggie, then Alex and then Luke. Was it selfish of her for wanting to spend time with him? For wanting to dance with him? If just once? If Alex and Reggie could, why couldn’t he?

Without a second thought (or third, fourth, fifth - it was always and forever tethered to Luke), she stumbled out the front door towards the garden gate. Glitter stuck to the pavement.

The light was on in the studio, their safe haven surrounded by fallen decorations as if a storm had passed. Her bare foot kicked a balloon, a smile tugging on her lips as the purple thing drifted and bounced against the trees.

She slid the doors open. There he was.  

“Luke?”

His back was turned towards her, head bent over the grand piano as he fervently wrote in his trusty songbook. More songs were theirs than just his in there, she knew, and it left her warm.

He perked up, head turning, a gentle smile on his lips. “Hey birthday girl. You look like shit.”

She laughed, coming closer, and watched as more glitter fell to the floor. She must look like a sweaty, exhausted disco ball. Despite this, a sense of calmness washed over her. Luke was here and he was smiling at her and everything made sense again.

“Thanks,” she jabbed. “You look even worse.”

Tensing his muscles, as if she hadn’t seen them before, he smirked. “Please. The sweat makes my arms look better.”

The smile stuck to her cheeks, stupidly enamoured by his silliness, and remembered a time when she didn’t allow herself to feel like this. But that was before the late night sessions in the studio, before he became corporeal, before he placed tender kisses on her forehead before important gigs, as if infusing her with the power to kill it, before he hung out in her room and before he allowed her to know more about 90s-Luke. (There wasn’t much difference. According to his stories, he was just as endearing then.)

Before one frustrated kiss between them, months ago, nearly blew everything up. If the band and their connection wasn’t so tight, she didn’t know what would’ve happened. They never spoke about it. Perhaps the knowledge that it happened, the idea that it could happen again, realising that her daydreams weren’t one-sided - it left her yearning. Who would blame her? She was seventeen.  

The kiss had been a mistake, but that ‘stupidly enamoured’ feeling? It was only a natural reaction. She didn’t want anyone else.

Crossing the final distance, Julie tightly wrapped her arms around him. Luke held her close, face burrowed in her neck and letting his waning body spray and her flowery perfume melt together.

“You haven’t given me a hug today,” she whispered.

He nodded. “I know.”

She bit back a sigh. This couldn’t be a mistake too. “Why?”

“Cause you’re seventeen,” he muttered. “I can’t pretend you’re-”

“Younger?”

His palms curled around her, pulling back slightly to look her in the eye. The green, bright yet troubled, flitted across her face. Dejected, it dropped to the ground, as if the sight of her brought him wonder and ache at once. Could she tell him it was mutual? Could she-

“Able to be mine.”

It was uttered so quietly, she almost didn’t catch it. It was as if the world went off its axis, both precariously close to falling off the edge and Julie debating whether that would be a bad thing or not. If it really was that insane if it meant she got to be right here, in his arms.

The feeling coiled in her stomach, pushed itself up her ribcage, straight through her heart and slid past her throat. The words danced on her lips, lively and colourful and devoted.

And then she said it. “I love you.”

His eyes slowly locked with hers, a glint of uncertainty found beneath. The lack of surprise on his part would make her laugh had she not been so terrified to lose him completely, all at once. His fingers pressed into her skin, like she’d be the one backtracking her words and running out. Like he wasn’t the one with the ability to vanish from her grasp.

Luke exhaled and dropped his forehead against hers, gaze unwavering. Her instincts told her to shut her eyes, look away, maybe even bridge the gap, but they were so close to finally becoming something. Whatever that might be.  

“Why aren’t you scared?”, he breathed. 

Her nervous hands found solace on his cheeks. “I am scared. And it’s despite that. All I wanted today, Luke, was have you be with me.” And then her eyes clenched tight anyway, overwhelmed by the moment. “I’m scared and- and despite everything… I love you.”

Her vulnerability hanging by a thread, she watched as he processed her words. She had no clue if she said or did the right thing, though her hands were frozen in place. Her heart rate picked up when he mirrored her, calloused fingers slipping from her shoulders to her face.

Luke swallowed, hard. “I’m sorry that- that I’ve been distant. But I’m scared and not for the reasons you think. I’m scared cause-” His chuckle was like a candle awakening in a dark cave. “-cause I don’t wanna spend a minute loving anyone else.”

The previous terror washed away, a brilliant smile blooming on her lips at his confession. Her head tilted, allowing her nose to brush his and sigh when he didn’t pull back.

“I was scared cause I thought you didn’t want that,” he finished.

Her voice drowned in reverence. “I do want that. I want you. Until…” Shaking her head, she let out the truth. “Until the universe takes you back.”

The boy laughed, relief sagging his shoulders and pulling so impossibly close, so tightly it should’ve hurt - had euphoria not been bursting in her chest at the simple action. His watery eyes held all she ever wanted to see. Him. Honestly, truly, him.

“I-”, he stuttered, his own anxious smile stopping him. Her thumbs pressed into the lines, urging him to keep going. It softened, in that earnest way only he knew of. “I think I fell back on this earth to be with you, Julie. I think- I know I’m yours.” That incredulous laugh erupted from his chest again, so full, as if it’d been waiting. “I’m so glad I get to hold you.”    

There was so much she wanted to say - that she was his, has always been his, that it was insane because they were so young, but what the hell was time anyway? Julie wanted to be with him, forever, until forever disintegrated like smoke between her fingers.

Now, she cradled his cheeks and he was warm. And he told her he loved her, in ways she never expected him to.

Instead of speaking, Julie kissed him. Her lips were sticky from soda and his still held the taste of lovesick words and lyrics, but it was perfect. Their mouths puckered from smiling, that damned kiss from months ago replaced by this one. It felt as if all her wishes, her restless midnight questions, all were granted by one simple touch. By his arms wrapping around her and hers gripping onto his jaw and hair. So tight, so close, as if the tides of Fate would pull the other away right this second.

But nothing happened that second. And the one after that. And again, again, again. They kissed and the universe allowed them to.

Julie didn’t think there was a more beautiful way to fall in love.

With a quiet thrill leading up her spine, she told him. “I think this year might be fun,” the girl grinned against his lips. “The first year of forever of giving my heart to you.”

His tender gaze rested on hers, relaxed hands caressing her back. Love was a good look on him. “Are you gonna say stuff like that now? To fuck with me?”

She giggled, glee bursting at the seams. “You started!”

“Yeah.” Luke trailed off, a dopey smile glittering his eyes. Just as he leaned in for another kiss, he stilled. “Oh! I was writing some stuff for a song!” Nodding at the discarded notebook on the piano, he asked: “Wanna work on it?”

Just like that, they were back to being Luke and Julie. Singers, musicians, writing partners, best friends, each other’s forever.

Propping the glittery crown on his head, she matched his fond expression and went to sit on the piano bench. “Yeah, show me.”

Julie would look back on that moment and smile. Two seventeen year olds, defying Fate and the Universe and everything in between, mocking the stars that yes, Luke and her did belong together. There was strength in knowing their forever was predetermined, that they knew it wouldn’t be eternal, but that that was okay. Every second mattered then. Every laugh became fuller, a kiss more passionate, a smile brighter. They spent a lifetime, counted in quick adolescent years, sharing their hearts.

For a while, Luke was hers. And forevermore would they be together - in the whispers of songs, in memories, in lingering cologne on clothing.

It was the sweetest, most adventurous romance of all.  

But that wasn’t important now. Luke sat next to her, held his notebook out, and together they did what they knew best. When the clock struck midnight, all he did was kiss her again.

“You know,” he muttered, lips brushing her ear. “The things we said? Might make for a killer song.”  

Julie’s nose scrunched up in delight, thumbing to a fresh page and clicking her pen. Nuzzling into his neck and interlacing their free hands, she swore she felt it. Their tether. It was real - just as real as him loving her and her loving him. It was there. She took a deep breath.  

“Let’s do it.”

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@blush-and-books​ @bluefirewrites​ @unsaid-emily​ @willexx​ @ourstarscollided​ @constantly-singing​ @ruzek-halstead​

[legends-live-in-memories]

Alleyway Altercation

Ayo its yah boi! I come with part two of a one shot i had no intention of writing a sequel to but yuh know shit happens.

part one is here called Rooftop Rendezvous 

Edit: AO3 link here!

enjoy 2k words of timari getting down and dirty in an alleyway. this is spicy 🥵 so be warned and read at your own risk.

summary:

“After a pendant is stolen from Gotham Museum, Red Robin has a unique method of getting it back.” -Timari, 2.2k words

without further ado

His feet hit the pavement running in hot pursuit of his target. Oracle had gotten the notification when a silent alarm was triggered from the museum and had assigned him and Robin to intercept the thief. To cover more ground, he had sent Robin around the east end to cut off the thief while he brought up the rear from the south side. At least, that’s what he told them were his intentions. In truth, he planned to confront his little problem personally. Privately. He always finishes what he started after all. 

He ducks into an alleyway that’s enclosed by short apartment buildings and waits. He knows his target will join him soon enough. He hears his brother in his ear, demanding more information from Oracle on Karma’s whereabouts and immediately decides to mute his comm piece. He doesn’t need any distractions or intruders tonight.

The action seems to have been the invitation his target needed because no sooner is she dropping into the alleyway before him. She blocks the only exit. It’s a declaration that the only way he’s getting out of here is through her. He’s more than happy to oblige.

“Words on the street’s that you’ve been looking for me, tweety bird.” Her voice, even muffled by her mask, is light and jovial. She struts slowly towards him, clearly she thinks they have all the time in the world. “I’m honoured, truly, to have caught your interest.” She’s in his space now, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. 

He grabs her wrist and spins her so that she’s face first into the nearest wall. He pins both arms behind her back and cuffs her but doesn’t ease up on the pressure he’s forcing on her back. Tilting his head low, he whispers directly into her ear.

“You seem to have confused ‘Person of Interest’ with an ‘Interesting Person,’” he presses his hips harder into her, and trails a hand down her side, mapping her figure. 

“Why can’t I be both?” Her voice is painted with glee and she wiggles her hips against him, the sensation getting a reaction out of both of them. After mapping her frame, he removes her mask and discards it behind them.

“You have got to stop doing that,” her exasperated huff and eye-roll would be quite adorable if it weren’t for their situation. “That mask wasn’t cheap.”

“Yeah? Well neither was the pendant you stole. Now, where is it?” There weren’t many places on her person that she could have kept it and he needs to find it to return it.

“You have to find it, tweety.” She pushed against his hips once more and he returned the gesture with a roll of his own, letting her feel exactly what effect she has on him. She lowers her voice in a whisper so low he wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t breathing in every exhale she released. “I hid it with you in mind.”

With that he turned her to face him and raked his eyes over her appearance. Her pants that looked practically painted on her was an impossible place for any jewellery to hide. Clearly appreciating the attention, she surged up and captured his lips in a surprisingly soft kiss. It was feather light and as soft as fresh snow. The tenderness had him frozen in place and it was the hesitation she needed to swing a kick at his face. If it weren’t for years of experience he would have never been able to duck under her attack. He stepped back out of her range and she used the distance to jump up and swing her cuffed hands, bringing them in front of her. Before she could keep her upper hand he charged and pressed her back against the wall, once again eliminating the space he had put between them. He’s pinning her by her shoulders and her hands have found purchase on his second belt that hangs low on his waist.

He leans down and catches her lips in a biting kiss that’s more teeth than anything else. She gasps into his mouth and he swallows her moans like a starving man. Not one to be kept idle, she sneaks her nimble fingers to the hidden latches on his belt and unclasps them. The crackle of the material hitting the pavement has him recoiling at the idea of any possible scratches he won’t be able to explain with his dignity intact. Her smirk is filled with spite, indicating she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Be careful. That’s custom-made and expensive.” The hypocrisy is not lost on him, rest assured.

“Oh? Pity. Call it karma then.” 

“Hilarious.”

“Aren’t I?” 

Before he can retort, she’s tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth and sneaking a hand down under the layers of his suit. He bucks and rolls his hips and the attention even through the cup that covers his crotch. A hand that held her shoulders in place sneaks down to her back to graze her exposed flesh and he teases a finger between her skin and the waist of her pants. She removes the cup swiftly, and discards it with his belt pathetically by their feet. Her hand returns and her fingers grip him with unmatched enthusiasm. He hisses at the contact of her gloves on his bare skin and pants against her lips like a hapless dog. Ever the opportunist, she sneaks her tongue into his awaiting mouth and maps out the surface, giving herself a full taste of him. She begins to stroke his length and the sudden rush of pleasure nearly brings him to his knees. He follows her lead, grinding into the motion of her hands while squeezing a hand between the tight fabric of her pants and her ass. He slips a leg between her parted thighs and encourages her to rut against him. She breaks their kiss, which was more heated panting than anything else, and throws her head back at the attention. Her rhythm on his length falters and her grip tightens in reflex and it’s the best thing he’s felt his entire life. He takes advantage of her exposed neck and bites a small but sharp bruise into the juncture that connects to her shoulder. He stays there, sucking and licking until the bruise is a dark purple. Then he leaves another. And another. 

Due to the lack of mobility in her arms, she uses her unoccupied hand to drag him closer by the waist of his pants, so much closer that her front is pressing into the knuckles of the hand stroking him to completion. He can feel her thighs twitch at the contact and he knows the night is coming to an end soon. His hand that’s still clutching her shoulder slips down her chest and grips her right breast softly. Her moans are music to his ears and he keeps up the ministrations, palming her gently. It’s a total juxtaposition to the rough pace her hips has set against the meat of his thigh and it has her begging for more. Her hand grips him even tighter, it’s almost painful but he pays it no mind because her grip is slick with precum and the texture of her glove is both heavenly and hellish in nature. He has to take several steadying breaths to not finish too early. He switches attention from one breast to the other and tightens his hold on her. 

He feels the indent of something pressing into his palm closer to her left armpit so he slips his hand under top, hiking it above the curve of her cleavage. He almost swallows his tongue at the sight before him. Her bra, which had to be handmade, was a soft black lace with a distinct yellow bird outline on the left cup. It was Red Robin themed. He groaned in appreciation and his thigh pressed further into her core. The rhythm of his hips stutters and the obscene squelch of her hand on him would be almost embarrassing if he weren’t still hung up on the obvious claim she staked on him. Her other hand has joined the first down his pants and reaches to stroke his tightening balls. His knees buckle and he raises a leg to steady himself, unintentionally forcing her down more onto his leg. He brings his lips to the space between her breasts and licks a broad strip against her skin. The slight salt of sweat and tang of perfume leaves him reeling. 

Before he loses himself completely, he palms her left breast again, pausing slightly over his symbol and he remembers the indent he felt earlier. Her earlier words sprung back to his mind. I hid it with you in mind the little minx had said. His hand goes under the fabric of her bra and he feels for what he hopes is the stolen pendant. The woman underneath him is a sight to behold; her head almost crashing against the brick wall, her hands down his pants stroking him like it’s the only thing she can do and chasing her release against his thigh. He wishes he had his camera to capture the absolute vision before him. He pockets the necklace before she notices and returns to his earlier ministrations, devoting his full attention where it needs to be. He bends further into her and brings his lips to one of her now exposed nipples with his hand grasping the other. She screams out at the flood of pleasure and grinds insistently on his thigh. She speeds up her strokes and twists her hands just so that has him tumbling into an orgasm. It takes him completely by surprise and he bites down on her in his euphoria. The hand he’s had on her ass this entire time slips further into her pants and feels for her center. She ruts back on his fingers, his gloved digits grazing her most intimate part, and the attention there is what finally brings her over the edge. A rush of warmth envelops his fingers and she shudders against him in ecstasy. Her moans are wanton and she heaves desperately into the night. She brings him back into another searing kiss and he’s almost certain she’s drawn blood at this point. He doesn’t find it in himself to care. 

The kiss cools down into something sweet and teasing with them parting with a hair’s width of space between them. Looking him directly into his masked eyes, she brings her now uncuffed hands to her lips and sucks her fingers clean. He has no idea when she got out of the handcuffs nor when she slipped her hands out of his pants but he’s too focused on her mouth to care about logistics. The sight has him twitching in his pants but they don’t have enough time for another round. Not when he has what he came for. Literally. 

He detangles her from himself, sliding his hands out from under her outfit. They don’t speak; just taking in the sight of each other, debauched and satisfied. In an unusual act of gentleness, he strokes the back of head, feeling her hair flow through his fingers and presses a kiss to her sweaty forehead. Her eyes blow wide at the soft intimacy and her cheeks flush to an adorable rosy colour. He sighs and steps out of her space, leaving her braced against the wall as he reaches for his cup and belt. In the midst of him adjusting his appearance he sees her reach for her mask out the corner of his eye. Her moves are slow and unfocused, probably taken aback from his tender display of affection. 

Their night has come to an end but neither are eager to part ways just yet. Something was different tonight from their regular run-ins with each other but no one was actually going to breach the subject matter. Their pride wouldn’t let them. Sighing, Red Robin sets out his grapple but before he could launch himself onto the nearest roof, Karma takes him by surprise yet again.

“Marinette.” Her voice is low and hesitant, as if she were afraid of her own voice. His silence was an answer enough and she continued unprompted.

“That’s my name, detective. Figure out the rest.” Just like that, she’s gone into the open street, leaving him behind once again to chase after her. Another day his mind reminds him.

Finally climbing to the roof, he freezes in place at the sight of the younger Robin perched with his back to him on the opposite ledge. Before he can trip over himself in explanation, his brother barely turns and regards him with open disdain.

“I hope you’re satisfied. You and your libido let her get away again.” The disgust was layered with a touch of embarrassment, probably from walking in on his older brother getting laid in a dirty alleyway.

“Me and my libido got the stolen pendant. Who cares about how I did it?” He showed off the acquired jewel, hoping his success would stop his brother from judging him within an inch of his life. Besides, he has no time to care about proper protocol when he was just given a clue on how to find his little minx.

Two can play this game, Karma. Or should he say, Marinette. 

[twstoric]

give you everything

𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒚𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒅: Hi~ May i request a scenario with Malleus, Riddle and Azul with a dom packing s/o that will fuck the living daylights out of them?~ maybe a lil mind break and cumflation?~ ((I enjoyed bingeing your works so much holy fuck how does one even- ejwiwiksjsj)) ((❤️))

𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: malleus draconia x m!reader, riddle rosehearts x m!reader, azul ashengrotto x m!reader

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: the desire to have a part of you buried so deep is too strong to overlook~

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘(𝕤): breeding kink, dom!s/o, (slight) cum inflation, dirty talk (minor), mind break

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 2.5k (total)

𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: this is literally making my inner dom quiver i—the biggest gold star for you ☆ and thank you for enjoying my work so much!! ;;

Malleus Draconia

There’s always something to look forward to in a dayーrather it be the start of a new chapter or the end of a cherished longing, there’s always the thrill of finding out what the day has in store for you. 

That small excitement always seems to grow just a bit more when you’re with a certain horned-headed lover of yours. The time spent can’t possibly compare to all the wonders of the worldーeach and every time spent together is to be cherished deeply; taken in with great care.

But this.

What a time to be alive. 

“Shall I put an heir in you, my King?” You breathe into his ear; so much teasing in your tone and so much seriousness behind your actions. “Would you like that? For me to fuck you full of my cum until you’re round and filled with my child.” A low chuckle leaves your lips, hips picking up pace in excitement from the visual of doing such things.

The ache in your thighs beg you to rest; muscles twitching with every movement but you can’t stop. You don’t think you want to. Not from the moment you’ve had Malleus in your arms and not from the moment he’s pulled you into his bedroom, a teasing smirk on his lips.

This could be.. your fifth.. sixth? No matter the number of times, but you know that you’ve been unable to stop since Malleus had pulled his clothes over his shoulder oh so slowly; the smirk never leaving his face. 

It’s like you’re in heat, mind frenzied with the lust and love you have for the fae under you and Mallues still holds his smile despite your fatigue. 

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him and brushing his mouth against your. You feel the soft lick of his tongue over your lips, tasting your skin in his mouth and you’re out of breath when he pulls away. “You wish to have a child with me..? That would make you rule by my side for eternity,” his eyes glow like gemstones, casting a spell with no use of magic that has you utterly captivated. You don’t focus on the implications of his words.

Instead, you hiss, grinding your hips harshly and glaring down at him. “Unbelievable. You’re not tired, are you?” You sound so pathetic despite your faux anger, wheezing for breath and groaning when Malleus tightens intentionally. 

“Would you be able to fix that, I wonder..” He murmurs, running his hands down your face. A soft moan leaves his lips, barely noticeable when your hips thrust in a quick, short movement. His face flushes, eyes hazy with love and a smile spreads on his face. “You feel wonderful inside me,” He sounds so giddy while saying this, eyes twinkling like a child.

Not replying to his words, you prop yourself up higher by the knees; scooching closer to Malleus’ thighs as he watches you in wonder. Your cock almost slips from inside him but you quickly thrust forward to plug his hole. You’re not wasting a drop of cum tonight.

The hitch in the dark fae’s breath is noticeable as you raise his leg, clutching them together over your chest as you use his limbs as leverage to thrust in harder. Malleus’ back arches off the bed, the restriction to his leg making him unconsciously tighten up.

You pull his legs with each thrust. Sharp smacks of skin against skin echoing in the room and it’s when you push Malleus’ legs forwardーas if bending himーare you rewarded with the soft gasps and moans of your dark prince.

You feel the bubbling glee in the back of your throat; spurred by his pleasured gasps to fuck harder like your life depends on it. Your cock twitches, drawled out moans leaving your lips tangling with Malleus’ soft pants. He feels so fucking tight suddenly, squeezing and taking your cock like he was made for you. 

Malleus can feel the twitch of your cock, indication of your incoming climax and something in him lights aflame. He lets out a small moan, stomach tightening in knots and the suffocation of being bent by you is so delicious. His mind blanks, feeling nothing but the way your cock stuffs him full and how your fucking all your cum back into him.

He’s going to have an heir, he thinks. An heir with you. You’ll make such a wonderful ruler by his side… “A- ah-!” he gaps, spine arched prettily as he cums. You follow soon after and Malleus whimpers when you grind into him roughly, hips flushed against his ass and he’s only able to focus on the way your cum gushes into him.

He feels so full suddenly. Unable to breathe as you place his legs down and his body twitches with sensitivity. Your hips are still softly rutting into him, drawing out soft gasps from the ravenhead. 

Blinking away the bleariness in his eyes, Malleus lifts his head to look at you but his eyes widen at something else. 

You feel like cackling, the look of utter bewilderment or even astonishment on his face is priceless. His stomach, the usually lean muscle extends slightly; a small bump on the normally flat skin. 

Malleus’ lips part and close pathetically. Arms shaky as he tries to lift himself but you push him down again. His attention is directed back on you when you climb over him; jostling the cum inside him and Malleus’ face burns. 

You smirk, tracing your fingers on his face as if to mock his earlier actions. The alarm in his eyes is instantly replaced with a look of fondness, mouth pulled in a smile as you kiss him. 

“Shall we go again to ensure our future heir?”

Riddle Rosehearts

“You’re so acquiescent to the rules at times, Riddle,” you sigh, hips pressing harder against the redhead and he moans softly. “But that’s a good thing, you know?” 

A soft, breathy whimper leaves Riddle’s lips in response. His hand claws at your back, holding on to whatever sanity he has left when it feels like you’re stuffing him to the brim. “O- of course,” he manages to wheeze out. How his lungs are still working, he’s not sure. “A- all rules of The Queen of Hearts must be adhered to.” 

You smile, leaning down to kiss his neck and Riddle gasps at the sudden shift. “Aren’t you a good boy,” dark cherries blossom in his skin; you grin, snapping your hips against his suddenly. “Then you’ll listen to your Master’s rules, won’t you?”

Riddle doesn’t replyーcan’t reply; a load gasps leaving his lips as he pushes his chest up in an arch. Each drag of your cock against his walls further incinerates all thoughts in his head. He can’t think or feel anything but you. His veins course with the pleasure you’re giving him, face twisting in uncontained ecstasy. 

“Rule Number One, Riddle,” you pat his cheek to get him to focus. The redhead’s lips pull back in a grimace as he gives you a short nod. You smile, “You are to take every drop of cum I give you.” A sharp thrust punctuates your words and you grin when Riddle yelps in surprise. He’s already following your commands so charmingly. 

A soft grunt leaves the back of your throat; head dropped down briefly before perking back up. Suddenly, you're turning Riddle’s legs over as if turning a steering wheel and he gasps loudly, blinking for a moment before looking back at you. 

He’s on his stomach, arms close to his chest as he attempts to lift himself up but you’re already straddling the back of his thighs. He freezes, face close to the bedsheets and almost unwilling to turn around now that you’re on top of him like this. 

The soft glide of your fingers over his ass makes Riddle clench the bed sheets tightly, as if to brace himself for your next move. “Rule Number Two~” You sing-song, spreading his ass cheeks apart and you have to bite back a chortle when Riddle buries his face in the sheets. You ease your cock back inside him, sighing softly at the tight heat that surrounds you. “Don’t hide your voice.”

With that, you slam into him unrestrained. Hands caging the dorm head in and snapping your hips with all your strength. The loud smacks of each thrust makes Riddle squeal, biting on the cotton in his mouth before letting go when he feels you lean closer to his head. 

“Ngh-! Ah! F- feels good,” he whines, raising his ass to meet you halfway as tears stream down his face. His fingers are becoming numb from how tight he’s clenching them. Drool spills down his chin, tongue lolling out and eyes going hazy.

You bite the back of his neck, licking his skin and marking him up. “Rule- Rule Number Three,” you wheeze, almost falling on top of him from the euphoria. You kiss down his neck to his shoulder blade, nuzzling your face there and Riddle feels your smirk on his skin. “Scream my name, Riddle~”

As if a button was switched, Riddle throws his head back, grabbing the back of your head and pulling your hair to the juncture between his neck and shoulder. You instantly mark up his skin upon the silent request, blooming cherries on his skin with your mouth. 

“F- fuck-! Please, please, please..! M- master, give it to me! Your- your cum.. w- want your cum..” he begs, tears streaming down his face. 

Riddle wails loudly, body shuddering under you before he freezes and collapses on the bed. His legs are still twitching lightly, Riddle’s mind blanking and his face heats with each pump of your cum inside him. 

His breathing is heavy and ragged, not even registering when you pull out gently. It takes him some time to collect his strength and finally lift himself up but you see the way Riddle stops abruptly midway. 

His head hangs between his shoulders and you tentatively place a hand on his back, only then realising that he’s looking under him. Peeking down, your mouth gapes in awe at the slight stretch of his stomach, filled to impossible fullness. 

The redhead sits down slowly, hands placed between his thighs and eyes never leaving his stomach. You can feel the way your brain malfunctions when Riddle tilts his head to look at you, a lopsided smile on his lips;

“Since I failed to follow your third rule then.. Won’t you punish me, Master?”

Azul Ashengrotto

“T- to waste something so valuable...” Azul laments, frowning at the drops of cum painting his stomach. He looks so pained to see your essence dribbling down his skin like that. “Idiot..”

You click your tongue; eyes twitching in annoyance as you yank at Azul’s leg. How ungrateful. 

He yelps, not expecting the rough handling and splutters when you spread his legs widely. “If you want me to cum in you so bad, then I fucking will.” Your cock plunges into him without warning, Azul moaning in surprise as he bucks into you. He takes you so well—and still so fucking tight. 

You pant, bottoming out and grinding your hips roughly against him. Azul twitches with every harsh grind, head thrown back and clawing at whatever he can reach. 

“Please, please, please,” he chants, wiggling his ass and jostling your cock inside him. He moans in ecstasy at feeling the way your large girth stretches him deliciously—veins rubbing against his walls.  “Please, I want your cum,” he begs, face flushing and twisting pathetically. The thought of not receiving your cum inside him makes him so upset, tears spring up to his eyes. 

You curse loudly, drawing back and snapping back in, a loud smack resounding in the room when your pelvis makes contact with Azul’s plump ass. He squeals, eyes closed tightly with drool dripping down his chin. “I’ll fuck my cum inside you,” you groan, feeling the way Azul tightens at your words. “And you’ll take it. Like the good bitch you are.”

He feels like you’re blessing him with those words of promise. Yes, he wants to cheer, give me all your cum, every single drop, bury it deep inside me. 

His chest tightens with so much anticipation and glee. He’s so greedy with you. Taking everything you can offer him with eager hands and insatiable hunger. He wants your everything and he’ll make sure to get it. 

His moment of blissed pleasure comes to an abrupt end when his intuition is warning him of something. He frowns, lips pulled back in a snarl when you give him a mocking smile. Fuck thatーhe won’t let you get your way. 

The sudden force Azul uses when pushing you manages to catch you off guard enough for him to flip you over, quickly straddling your legs and stuffing your cock back inside him. The dorm head shudders violently, face flushed a bright red and a wide smile on his face. 

Azul’s hips rock back and forth, clenching and unclenching around your cock as he places his hands on your chest. “Th- this is necessary to keep your end of the deal, isn’t it?” He blinks his lashes at you prettily, breath stuttering when you place your hands on his waist.

A nagging feeling settles in the back of Azul’s mind when he sees your easy smile, brows raised as if questioning him. “So greedy,” you murmur, snaking your hand up his chest to pinch a pert nipple. “That’s fine..” A sharp glint in your eyes makes Azul’s stomach sink. “I’ll play your game.”

Too quickly for Azul to process, your hands wrap around his torso, knees bent upwards to push him towards your chest and you trap him in your arms as you fuck into him. He squeals loudly, body tensing in your arms but his hips fucks back onto you. 

You use your legs to push your ass up to drive deeper into him; muscles straining and protesting from the tiresome movement but you can’t think of thatーonly focusing on the way Azul scratches and claws at your chest in pure ecstasy. 

He’s chanting your name like a worshipper, drool and tears dripping down to your chest as your cock hits his prostate with each hard movement. Pushed over the brim with each clench of Azul’s ass, you plant your legs firmly on the bed before thrusting back in hard and burying your cock impossibly deep. 

Azul is still twitching by the time you lay down on the bed again, his face pressed against your neck. Spent and muscles aching, you breath a long sigh, throwing your head back against the pillows as Azul slowly pulls away from you.

The soft gasp he lets out draws your attention back on him and you look to see Azul blinking down at his stomach; eyes twitching slightly. “Th- this is..” he starts, voice wet as he places a hand on his stomach, bloated like a small balloon. 

He grins, ass pushing back and he gasps when feeling the swish of cum inside him. Azul places his hand on your chest again, blunt nails scratching your skin and hips rolling against yours.

“I believe you haven't given me every drop of your cum..?”

[lila-rae]

i swear i’m not a hater but coming from a. teen myself in a school where pretty much everyone watched euphoria and like being on social media you can definitely tell people didn’t take euphoria as a warning against drugs lol for halloween people were dressing up as characters like maddy rue and jules with glitter on their faces and taking “aesthetic” euphoria drug photos in the bathroom captioned things like “i’m on that euphoria high!” and on tiktok people are throwing euphoria themed birthday parties for their little babies. i like the show for rue but every other character doesn’t have a good storyline tbh and they don’t show the real effects of drugs if u ask me. like they show rue not being able to pee and she looks kinda messy but they made it into a love island joke and then iirc she’s all ready to go pretty for that event the next episode and the glitter symbolism for drugs was just asking for people to take the message wrong tbh. all love tho i’m still tuning in for season 2 out of curiosity altho i heard the reviews are calling it “y2k glee” and that’s not promising tbh 🥺

I love hearing from actual teens about this cause I think as adults we have the benefit of experience and a fully formed frontal lobe so we can say (oh of course no one would glamorize this) but then I hear from teens who’ve watched that they aren’t taking it as a warning against drug use. Like I texted my 17 year old cousin who I know watched the show and asked what she thinks of Euphoria and she said “I wish people in my school had parties like they do”. (HELP!) I’m waiting for my 19 year old brother’s opinion because I know he’s watched and I know he’s at least tried some form of rec drugs.

I think maybe as we grow we forget that teens come with a healthy dose of believing they’re invincible. So even showing some drug use the response is “oh that could never happen to me” “I know my limits and when to stop” “They just don’t know what they’re doing” or “they’re being dramatic and that doesn’t happen” cause they don’t know anyone personally that’s OD’d