#find sub domain

[vinnyvamppp]

She Threw Me—Then Kissed Me

NOTE: Have I been up for three hours writing this? Yes. Is this one of my longest expeditions about an alien mating with a man? Probably. Two lucky commenters requested this, so here I deliver.

@xecres1cloud @deleted-1-800 Warnings: Dom/Sub Dynamics, Public Sex, Cecil Catches Them, Alien Fucking, Tit Sucking, Porn w a Plot, Misuse of Powers, Cowgirl, Dom!Reader, Switch/Dom!Mark Grayson (battle for dominance), Infatuation, Rough Sex, Plot Changes for Convenience, Mutual Dirty Talk, Hair Pulling, etc. Synopsis: When the shadows of your heritage awaken for the first time in years—responding not to war, but to him—you’re left with one terrifying, exhilarating realization: You didn’t come here to be claimed. But Mark Grayson might just be the first man brave enough to try.

Mark Grayson x Alien!Fem Reader

Word Count: 2,908

You were never meant to leave Themyscira.

Your people—warriors, champions, god-forged in strength and purpose—do not abandon their home lightly. But you were given a mission, one that pulled you from the sacred shores of your birthplace and thrust you into a world that feels too fragile beneath your hands. The gods spoke of a coming war. A force beyond Earth, beyond even Olympus, stirring in the void between stars.

Not one brewing on earth, but amongst earth dwellers in space. The Amazons do not sit idly by when the balance is threatened. You do not sit idly by. So you were sent to watch. To learn. To prepare.

You were sent to this world to stop what’s coming. And then you met him.

Mark Grayson is not a god, but he wears his strength like one. And yet, for all his power, for all the might in his blood, there is something uncertain in the way he carries it. He does not fight like an Amazon—he hesitates, he questions, he cares in a way warriors are taught not to.

Never knowing a world this fragile. Being of Amazon and Talok IV descent, you were a new breed of soldier for your people, and one that could blend in if needed. Although, the power was bestowed due to your father's trickery. No matter. The man is dead.

The moment you landed on Earth, you sought out Cecil to initiate your infiltration. Earth people claimed to be resilient, yet so desperate for help once offered, it's pitiful.

You weren’t expecting to find something worth staying for. His influence prodding at you like an infectious disease. The time was approaching, the time to mate that is, yet you were unusually apprehensive–. THWACK!

Here, metal bends like softened wax beneath your hands. Brick crumbles as if it were pressed from sand. You’ve seen men build their homes, their towers, their weapons—each one designed to endure, yet none of them built to withstand you.

Mark learned that the hard way. “I swear I was ready for that,” he groans, flat on his back in the wreckage of a training arena that should have been reinforced better.

The dust hasn’t even settled from your last hit. A crack spiders through the concrete where he landed, but he’s already moving, rubbing the back of his head like a man more embarrassed than injured. You stand over him, arms crossed. “You weren’t.” Mark exhales sharply, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He’s strong—stronger than most things in this world. But not stronger than you, outside of his domain of expertise.

He knows it, too.

“You’re really not holding back, huh?” he says, half a grin forming. You tilt your head. “Should I?” Mark blinks, then laughs, shaking his head. “No, no. It’s just… you’re insane.” He gestures vaguely at the crater where the ground used to be. “I’m supposed to be the strong one, you know?” You raise an eyebrow. “Who told you that?” For a second, he just looks at you.

Then he grins, something sparking behind his eyes that wasn’t there before. “I’ve been wanting you to say that. I like you.” he says, and for the first time since this match started, it almost feels like a challenge. The slight rasp in his voice sends tingles through you. And finally, you think, someone worth fighting. Someone worth keeping.

Mark is still grinning at you, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. I like you. A simple statement, but there’s something behind it—something testing the waters, something that sees you as more than just an opponent. You roll your shoulders, easing the tension from the fight. “You like losing?” Mark exhales a short laugh, pushing himself fully upright, closer now. "I like a challenge." His eyes flicker over you—not with fear, not with wariness, but something else. Something warmer.

You’re used to admiration. It comes naturally when you are carved from power itself, when your body is built to command. Men have looked at you in awe before, in fear, in respect. But Mark looks at you like— Like he isn’t afraid to lose to you.

That’s new.

You shift your stance, but you don’t step back. "Careful, Grayson," you say, your voice dipping lower. "Keep looking at me like that and I might think you're flirting." At your words you sway slightly.

You were tall and statuesque, and your skin was kissed by deep cerulean hues. Its very image carries the mystery of the void itself. Your hair, thick and dark flows past your shoulders, caught in satisfying curly tussles. Your eyes—piercing, luminous—glow softly in the dark, a warning and a lure. Just how could he not be reeled in? From the moment you two’s eyes met, he felt his heart stir. He couldn’t tell if it was just lust, perhaps, even so he wanted you.

Mark swallows, his grin flickering—still there, but a little uneven now. His eyes dart away for half a second, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re messing with him. “Uh,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck, “I mean, I was kind of flirting, but if that’s, like, weird, or—y’know, if you don’t—” He clears his throat, cutting himself off before he spirals any further.

“You’re really hard to read, by the way.” You arch a brow, unimpressed. “You’re nervous.” His shoulders tense slightly. “What? No. Pfft. Me? Nervous?” He gestures vaguely between you. “I just—uh—didn’t expect this to happen after you threw me through a wall.”

“You survived.”

“Barely!”

“You’re fine,” you counter, stepping closer. His breath hitches—just a little, but you catch it. He’s still sitting on the broken concrete, looking up at you, and for all his strength, all his power, there’s something hesitant in the way he meets your gaze. You tilt your head. “You’re not used to this, are you?” Mark blinks. “Used to what?” “Someone stronger.” His mouth opens, then closes. He hesitates, then exhales a short, nervous laugh.

“Wow. Okay. Just calling me out like that.” It’s not an insult, just an observation. The men here—especially the ones like him are used to being the strongest person in the room. It doesn’t matter that he’s still learning, still figuring out his limits. People look at him and see power. You wonder if anyone has ever made him feel small before. If he even knows what it’s like.

You kneel slightly, closing the height difference by roughly four inches. His breath stills. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Mark.” His lips part slightly, like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. Instead, his gaze flickers over your face, lingering for just a second too long. “…I’m not.” Lie. Not fear, exactly but something close.

Its that nervous, unsure energy that coils in his muscles like he doesn’t know if he should lean in or back away. You’re used to confidence, used to men puffing their chests, trying to match your strength. Mark doesn’t do that. He just looks at you like he’s trying to figure you out, like he wants to say something but isn’t sure how. You decide for him.

You lift a hand, slow enough that he can stop you if he wants to. He doesn’t. Your fingers graze his jaw, and he tenses. His skin is warm beneath your touch, and when you tilt his chin up, his breath catches. “I really don’t know what to do right now,” he admits, voice slightly higher than before. You smirk. “That’s new for you, isn’t it?” He huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head. “That obvious?”

“Then let me teach you.” Mark swallows hard, his hands twitching slightly at his sides—like he wants to reach for you but isn’t sure if he should. His pulse is quick under your fingertips, his face just inches from yours. “…Yeah,” he breathes after a moment, voice softer now. “Okay.”

his hands grip your waist, rough and sure, pulling you into him with a force that sends heat curling through your spine. His lips crash into yours—not careful, not questioning, but hungry, decisive. It takes you a moment to process it; to register the way his fingers tighten against your hips, the way his body pressed against yours, firm and demanding. Mark Grayson, who had been so nervous before, so uncertain, is kissing you like a man who finally stopped thinking and started wanting.

Mark moves, twisting, and before you can counter, the ground disappears beneath you. He takes you down with him, the two of you collapsing onto the rubble left in the wake of your fight. The impact sends up a small cloud of dust, but neither of you care.

He’s already back on you, already pushing up on his elbows to hover over you, breath warm against your lips. His voice is rough, a little unsteady. “You keep acting like you’re the only one who can take control.” You smirk, fingers trailing along his jaw. “Prove me wrong.”

Mark stares at you. Mid kiss, you’ve fumbled the bag and told him, in clear, matter-of-fact detail, that on Themyscira, men do not live after mating with an Amazon. And he is very much a man. His mouth opens. Closes. Then, finally: “Okay.” He lifts a finger, his voice rising slightly. “Uh. I—Okay. I really need you to explain how we got here.”

You fold your arms, unimpressed. “We were talking about your customs romantically. I shared mine.” You explained. “Right. Right.” He nods rapidly, pacing for a second before spinning back around to face you. “And—just so I’m understanding this correctly—your custom is that if we—uh—mate, you have to kill me afterward?”

“Yes.”

Mark makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a laugh and a panicked wheeze. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. And you—you don’t see a problem with that?” You tilt your head. “I see a problem for you.” Mark runs both hands through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Okay. See, that is the part I’m stuck on. Why does that have to happen?” He inquires. “It is tradition,” you say simply.

“The Amazons have no need for men beyond what they offer.” Mark lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing his face. “Great. That’s very reassuring.” You watch him carefully. You expected resistance—expected him to balk at the idea of it, at you. Men tend to do that when faced with their own mortality.

And yet, he hasn’t left. He hasn’t even backed away. He’s nervous, sure, but he’s still here. Interesting. You take a slow step toward him, forcing his eyes back to yours. “Do you want to?” Mark swallows. Hard. “I—What?”

“You seem conflicted,” you observe, studying him. “If you didn’t want me, you wouldn’t still be here.” His lips part, but no words come out. His gaze flickers over your face, your stance, the way you’re looking at him. He does want you. He just doesn’t know what to do with that want when it comes with a potential death sentence. You smirk. “I wouldn’t kill you, Mark.” Mark visibly deflates with relief. “Wait. Hold on.” His brow furrows. “Then why would you even say that?”

You shrug. “I never said I had to. Only that it was tradition.” Mark stares at you again, looking so caught between exasperation and disbelief that you almost laugh. “So let me get this straight,” he says slowly, pointing at you. “You could have led with ‘I don’t have to kill you,’ but instead you decided to give me a heart attack first?” You tilt your head, amused.

“You’re still alive.”

“Barely!” He sighs, pressing his fingers against his temples. “I think I just aged like ten years.” You close the space between you, reaching up to rest a hand on his chest. He tenses—but not in fear. His pulse thrums beneath your fingers, quick, strong. “You’re an interesting man, Mark Grayson,” you murmur, watching the way his breath catches.

His hands hover uncertainly at your sides, fingers flexing like he wants to touch you. “…Yeah?” You nod, smirking. “Most would have run by now.” Mark exhales a short laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well. I’m really bad at making good decisions.” You hum in amusement, then lean in, lips just a breath from his. “Now, where did we leave off?”

It didn’t take long for you both to be disheveled and distracted. Mark shudders beneath you, his hands gripping your hips as you hover above him. "I won't kill you, but I can't make any promises about how hard I'll fuck you." He shudders at your words, his resolve crumbling. "I'll take my chances." You can feel his hardness pressing against your core, begging for entrance.

Creamy pre-cum bubbling from his tip acted as a perfect lubricant. Succulent. The slip caught your clit, each time earning a sharpened moan from you. Without warning, you slam down onto him, taking him deep inside you. The size of him certainly shows his non-human relation.

He groans, his head falling back as you begin to ride him hard and fast. Your breasts bounce with every movement, drawing his gaze like a magnet. He reaches up, cupping them in his large hands, kneading the soft flesh. "F-fuck, you're soooo beautiful; I’ve seen this in my dreams." He pants, his thumbs circling your hardened nipples.

"I c-can't get enough of you." He admitted, a grin wearily etching across your lips. “W-Wouldn’t want you to, need you badly, Mark.” The simplicity yet raw need in your sentiment drives him wild.

His strong hands suddenly suction to your upper thigh, his mouth latching onto your nipple instead. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, his gaze fixed upon your pleasured expression as your combined moans vibrated the flesh. His tongue grew erratic as it sought to bring stimulation, his hips snapped forward to meet you.

The swollen tip of his cock threatens to bruise your walls with each drive. Small dust clouds from debris kicked up, the sex growing more aggressive as he realized you could handle his strength. No need to hold back, only needing to savor the feeling. A loud clap echoed within the domain; the slab of concrete shifted beneath you as his toes gripped the floor. It's taking everything within you two to hold on as your cunts arousal responds to him. Thank god you’re on earth, easier access to the best pussy he’s had so far. The only pussy he needs now. A strangled growl crawls from his throat—.

“Donald. Turn off the training facility cameras.” Cecil chimed, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “...Right away, sir.” Replied Donald as he hastily cut surveillance.

Your fingers left his chest, deep claw marks reddening his skin. You lean down, your hair cascading around you as you capture his lips in a searing kiss. Your tongues dance together, each of you fighting for dominance. His hands slide down to your ass, gripping it tight as he thrusts up into you, meeting you stroke for stroke.

You squeezed him with such vigor, pussy puffier with more pleasurable ridges. "Jesus, y-you're s-so tight," he grunts, his hands digging into your ass hard enough to leave bruises. "I'm going to make this pussy only crave me." His conviction made you laugh, a wicked sound. "Promises, promises," you taunt, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts. "But we'll see who's ruined by the end of the night."

The room fills with the sounds of your lovemaking—the slap of skin on skin, the cries of pleasure, the obscene squelch of your wetness. “Mmph…! Do you feel this, Mark Grayson?” You asked, your voice dropping to a husky whisper, and something in it—some unearthly vibration—rolled through his bones like a pulse, deep and intoxicating. “Mmm… yeah—yeah, fuck yeah, I do.” He rasps, as his teeth grit with determination. “This is how it feels to fuck someone who can handle you.” You grinned, almost sadistically, with a strong sense of pride.

Your expression grew into one of lust as your nose scrunched, glistening lips singing so beautifully for him. “I’ll give you that and more.” The comment was so resolute you almost didn't hear it before you both groaned in unison. One of his hands comes up to tug your locs, preventing your teases. Your head slinging back with a loud yelp as your vision blurred.

You can feel your orgasm building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in your core. A series of pleasured whines leave your unfiltered lips. Mark must sense it too, because he flips you over onto your back, never breaking their rhythm. However, his previous efforts went for not, only spurring you on. Wisps of living shadow curled around his neck, his chest—soft and teasing, cold phantom touches caressing him in droves of trembles. They grew more intense with every stroke of gratification. “Ooh…! Mark! I— I—.” You stutter.

He pounds into you, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. "Oh god, I’m gonna cum. C’mon… please… for me,” he commands so sweetly that you couldn’t deny him, his voice rough with need. "I want to feel you come; I need to feel you." His words are all it takes to send you hurtling over the edge.

You scream his name like a mantra, your body going limp, and he convulses above you as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He follows soon after, dick knotting inside you as he spills his seed deep within your walls. Harsh gasps leave you both as he nestles himself within you absentmindedly, not thinking of the consequences. Or so you thought.

Mark smiles— a small, lopsided thing. He leans in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips before whispering, “… Guess you’re stuck with me.”

…

Optional ending!

The Next Day

“No, Mark. After the shit you just pulled, you two are banned from the training facility indefinitely,” Cecil said, rubbing his temples like he was one bad decision away from an aneurysm.

Mark, sitting across from him with his arms crossed, groaned. “Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad.”

Cecil shot him a look. “Mark, we had to evacuate three city blocks because someone thought an earthquake was happening. Do you have any idea how hard it is to explain to the public that the ‘seismic activity’ was just you and your Amazonian girlfriend going at it?”

Mark turned bright red. “Okay, in our defense—”

“There is no defense!” Cecil snapped. “You two leveled the place! I’m still waiting on a damage report for what’s left of the foundation!”

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed, entirely unbothered. “It’s not my fault your training grounds weren’t built to withstand real combat.”

Cecil’s eye twitched. “It was! It just wasn’t built for you two doing whatever the hell that was!”

Mark coughed into his fist, eyes darting to the side. “...We, uh, might’ve gotten a little carried away.”

Cecil exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Mark. Son. You punched through a wall mid-mission briefing the next morning.”

Mark stiffened. You turned to him, amused. “You did?”

He muttered something under his breath, ears still burning.

Cecil waved a hand. “You’re lucky we need you, otherwise I’d have you both on clean-up duty for the next decade.” He sighed, rubbing his face. “Just—do me a favor. Next time, take it off-world.”

Mark perked up. “Wait, so you’re saying we can—”

“Out of my office, Mark.”

And with that, you grabbed your still-flustered boyfriend by the wrist and gracefully exited before Cecil had an aneurysm.

Again.

MasterList ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

NEXT PART!!

[cavalierfou]

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[celuere]

arlecchino

all of my arlecchino works, either with fem! or gn!reader

𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ good night ritual. (nsfw)

cw: cunnilingus

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ teaser. (nsfw)

cw: semi-public, stimulation , mentions of giving head

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ teased. (nsfw)

cw: voyeurism, deepthroating, mirror sex, mild degradation, praising, full nelson

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ the hearth is now extinguished. pt. 1 (suggestive)

cw: unspoken feelings, doomed yuri, mutual pining

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ my hearth. pt. 2 (nsfw)

cw: mentions of blood, bit of angst, oral sesbian lex at the end

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ sweet dreams. (nsfw)

cw: threesome, arle and bossform!arle taking turns on you, overstimulation, fingering, mild degrading, squirting, cuckolding, oral

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ not enough. (nsfw)

cw: fingering, making out, marking, Arlecchino being desperate for her wife, mentions of pregnancy

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ give me what I want. (nsfw)

cw: porn without plot, strap-on, rough sex, overstimulation, pussydrunk Arle

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ arle finding out you‘re pregnant (sfw)

cw: slight angst

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ hard day. (nsfw)

cw: fingering, praising, fluffy through and through, comforting, worshipping

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ arle with a chubby wife (nsfw)

cw: body dysmorphia, insecurity, mirror sex, fingering, body worship, arle being a goner

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ be quiet. (nsfw)

cw: creampie ig??, against a wall, semi-public, almost getting caught, orgasm denial

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ fallen angel!arle x devoted follower!reader (nsfw)

cw: au, loss of virginity, hands down filthy sesbian lex, degrading, worship, arle fucking you out of pure spite for the divine

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ i know if i‘m haunting you, you must be haunting me (sfw)

cw: grief, doomed yuri, angst with smh comfort, depression

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ blunt rotation. (nsfw)

cw: modern college au, threesome, usage of weed, high sex, reader getting passed around, unprotected sesbian lex, might be a little ooc, backshots, cunnilingus (reader receiving and giving)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ sometimes silence guides the mind (sfw)

cw: pregnant wife!reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ kiss it, bite it, can i fit it? (nsfw)

cw: modern au, dilf arle, implied age gap, shameless flirting, reader is lowkey inexperienced, strap-on, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, arle introduces you into the world of awesome sesbian lex, body worship

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ lockjaw (nsfw)

cw: sub!arle, faceriding, overstimulation

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a little bit scandalous (nsfw)

cw: mild exhibitionism, carriage sex, dick sucking, riding, unprotected sex, pet names, slight degradation, slight homophobia

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ prepare for trouble & make it double (nsfw)

cw: arle uses her fancy domain trick on you, threesome, bossform arle, vaginal fingering, riding, bondage, cuckolding (kinda?????), squirting, degrading, size kink

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ help me get away from myself (nsfw)

cw: bloodsucking, cockwarming, vampire!arle

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ birds of a feather (nsfw)

cw: fingering, arles fat dick, soft sex, pathetic lesbian arlecchino, fluff, body worship, breeding, slight lactation kink

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ hopefully we don‘t have no babies (nsfw)

cw: modern au, experienced dilf!arle, implied age gap, pet names, praising, arle teaches you how to properly finger yourself, mirrors, voyeurism, strap-on, rough sex, dumbification, arle is called peruere

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ her body temperature. (sfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ arle x wife!reader (sfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ parent!arlecchino (sfw OFC.)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ arle taking care of her pregnant wife (sfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ MORE of arle caring for her pregnant wife (sfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ vampire!arlecchino (suggestive)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ nsfw headcanons (nsfw duh)

cw: degrading, bondage, sub!arle, breeding

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ random hcs about her (sfw+nsfw)

cw: dacryphilia, strap-on

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ girlcock headcanons (nsfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬/𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐬

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ speaking french. (nsfw)

cw: fingering

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ playable character!reader earning her talent mats (nsfw)

cw: cunnilingus, strap-on, bondage

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ biker!arlecchino taking you on her bike (nsfw)

cw: semi-public, modern arle

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ hand or vibrator? (nsfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ what happens once her markings reach her heart? (sfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ pathetic girlfailure arle (nsfw)

cw: sub!arle, bondage

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ girldad arle (sfw obv)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ strapped up arle (nsfw)

cw: cockwarming, public

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ bassist!arle (sfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ more about her body temperature (nsfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ game night with the hearth (sfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ arle with a morning boner (nsfw)

cw: somnophilia

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ dilf!arle x milf!reader (nsfw)

cw: breeding, body worship

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ trying out your new lipstick (nsfw)

cw: deepthroating, masturbating, dacryphilia, slightly obsessive arle

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ arle assembling your furniture (nsfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ size kink with arle (nsfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ arle and her love for bushes <3 (nsfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ DIY strapon (nsfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ giving her a tit job (nsfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ dad!arlecchino and baby slings (sfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ arle coming home to see you wearing her jacket (nsfw)

cw: strap-on

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ giving you backshots (nsfw)

cw: strap-on, degradation, dumbification, overstimulation, teasing, pet names, forced quiet sex

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ she loves teasing you on a date (nsfw)

cw: arles fat fucking dick, stripteasing ngh, teasing, overstimulation, voyeurism kinda??, usage of a vibrator

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ divorced!arle and the ex-wife she still yearns for (suggestive)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ decorating the nursery (sfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ her favorite positions (nsfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ you can’t stop taking stray animals home (sfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ pathetic arle begging for your pussy (suggestive)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ sauna thoughts… (nsfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ pregnancy lex (nsfw)

cw: pregnant!reader, transfem!arlecchino

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ yearner husband arlecchino (nsfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ it‘s her first time living too (sfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ grinding on her abs (nsfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ office sex (nsfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ arlecchino clones hmfghhfg… (nsfw)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ arlezani blunt rotation (nsfw)

cw: transfem!Arle and Zani, usage of weed, creampie, unprotected sex

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

[wonluhver]

Hoshi Focus

M = Content Warnings for Smut

! = Personal All Time Favs.

! Baby [M] - Mafiaverse, Cyberpunk, Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers, Smut, Heavy Angst

Soonyoung had been in your life for as long as you can remember. You haven’t spoken since your wedding to someone who isn’t him, but when you uncover your husband’s plans to turn against your family, you don’t know who else to call.  

The Fine Print in Fake Dating [M in pt2] - college au with childhood best friends to fake dating to lovers, fluff, humor, suggestive stuff, smut for pt 2, unfinished - to be longer in length

Two broke college best friends decide to enter a Valentine’s “Hottest Couple” contest for the chance to win a semester of free tuition. The plan? Nail every romantic challenge without anyone catching on that they’re faking it. The problem? Nowhere in the fine print did it say what to do when fake dating starts to feel a little too real.

Repeat Rebound [M] - fwb!soonyoung, fwb!svt, exboyfriends, angst, smut, unfinished

The best way to get over someone is to get under someone. Again and again and again.

Houdini [M] - sub hoshi, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, protected sex, cumshot, possibly unfinished

The guy wearing a tiger onesie and ripping a bong in the corner might not be the most promising prospect of the night. But you've got a point to prove and a bet to win.

! Raise the Stakes [M] - professional footballer (soccer) soonyoung, coach's daughter oc, (sort of) childhood friends to lovers, slight angst, unfinished, smut

you and soonyoung have been in each other’s orbits for years. you’ve watched him go from a grassroots player to receiving the captain’s armband—a sign of trust and acknowledging his loyalty to his team.

but he’s loyal to you too.

Babe for the Weekend - dance studio ceo!soonyoung x lawyer!f!reader. hurt/comfort, angst, romance. alternate universe: non-idol. post-breakup dynamics and quarter-life crises. high school lovers to exes.

Everybody thought that you and Kwon Soonyoung were a foregone conclusion, but then he had to go and change the ending. Six years after the breakup, he decides to come home for the holidays— and now, you’re stuck between your pride, his dreams, and the road not taken. ‘Tis the damn season, indeed.

A Tiger's Domain [M] - porn with PLOT , camstars!au, university!au, best friends/idiots!au, fluff, a sprinkle of angst, possibily unfinished

Some days you tame the tiger, and some days the tiger has you for lunch

Crash Course in Romance - strangers to lovers, fake dating, best friend’s brother, first love, light slow burn, humour, rom com, fluff

meet kwon soonyoung, he’s the ultimate goofball—sweet and chaotic but clueless when it comes to romance. so when you ask him to be your fake boyfriend even though you barely know him, he says yes, even though he's never dated before and has no idea what to do. as you show him the ropes and coach him on how to be the perfect boyfriend and slowly get to know him, soonyoung finds himself slowly falling for you. and maybe, just maybe, you're falling for him too.

! Make Me Feel [M] - fluff, smut, very little angst

when you met soonyoung, you thought he was probably one of the most annoying people you had ever encountered. the more you found yourself wrapped up in him, that thought didn’t really change. he was still annoying. annoyingly cute, annoyingly charming, and annoyingly exciting. and, before you realized, you were annoyingly in love.

! What? Like it's Hard? - fluff, angst, non-idol au, uni au, friends to lovers, opposites attract

With the help of a little bit of bleach, Soonyoung is certified legally blonde–complete to last minute-dedication to scoring as high as Elle Woods on the LSAT. While he has no interest in law school, he’s notorious for never turning down a dare. So how does a frat bro in serious danger of failing his senior year get a 179? He asks the smartest person he knows. 

Or, studying for a law test has never seen this much chemistry.

! The Thing About Love - fluff, angst, humour, one sided pining, slow burn, slapping (apologies are given), shitty friends, broken friendships

The slap you sent across Kwon Soonyoung’s face sent a reverberating sound across the dance studio.

He looks up, eyes bloodshot and swimming with fury. There’s a hint of a smile on his face for some reason, which you realize may be out of disbelief.

You don’t register anything else other than the rage that accelerates down your own veins. There’s a part of you that wants to do it again when he utters his next words.

“That was a bad fucking idea”

Bluff And Nonsense - romance, angst, some fluff, university au, not a fake dating au, gender neutral reader x hoshi

“Soonyoung? Yeah I know him, you should too. He’s on the uni’s dance crew, and ever since he joined them, their popularity’s skyrocketed. I’ve met him a few times, great guy — got a tendency to run his mouth but hey, no one’s perfect. He’s smart anyways, probably knows how to deal with the consequences, right?”

or

Soonyoung never thought one bluff could lead to so much nonsense.

Playboy Bunny [M] - smut, halloween party, fingering, crying, penetrative sex, protected sex, he calls reader bunny.

Charity Fuck [M] - virgin guy who lives with his parents!soonyoung, facetime-sex, real life sex

Have you ever taken anyone’s virginity before? Well, yeah, your first time was both losing your own and taking someone else’s but, that was a long time ago. Have you ever taken the virginity of a twenty-six-year-old man who probably should have gotten laid by now anyway? Nope. Are you about to? Yep.

or the one where soonyoung has a streak of bad luck in bed and his friends make fun of him for it, you find him advertising himself on a dating app and decide to help him out.

Be Sweet [M] - arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, modern royalty au, family issues, unprotected sex

! Araneae [M] - friends with benefits au ; big dummy dumb idiots to lovers; ta x student dynamics ; fluff, angst & smut, zoology ta!kwon soonyoung x marine biology major!reader

when you realize your friend (with benefits) actually has feelings for you, a tangled web of lies and avoidance ensues

! Never Shall We Die [M] - pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut

Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool?

The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows.

Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.

other recs

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing a "Wise" Character

Wisdom

The ability of an individual to make sound decisions, to find the right—or at least good—answers to difficult and important life questions, and to give advice about the complex problems of everyday life and interpersonal relationships.

The role of knowledge and life experience and the importance of applying knowledge toward a common good through balancing one’s own, others’, and institutional interests are two perspectives that have received significant psychological study.

Aristotle believed in 2 types of wisdom:

Theoretical - involves the exploration of things we can’t change, but about which we seek truth.

Practical - explores that which we can change through making good choices (Lacewing, n.d.).

Descartes viewed wisdom as:

good judgment in everyday life and

seeking knowledge in all things one is able (Rutherford, 2017).

Confucius said, "By 3 methods we may learn wisdom:

First, by reflection, which is noblest;

Second, by imitation, which is easiest; and

third by experience, which is the bitterest."

Although a definition is difficult to come by, agreement on what wisdom is not, have been much easier.

Researchers agree that wisdom isn’t a result of aging.

They also believe that higher IQ scores don’t equal increased wisdom.

What role does age play in attaining wisdom? Can a child be wise?

Current research indicates that the “optimal age to attain wisdom is about 60 years old” (Compton & Hoffman, 2013, p. 201).

Balance Theory of Wisdom

By Robert Sternberg

He defines wisdom as “using one’s:

intelligence,

creativity,

common sense, and

knowledge” to balance 3 life domains:

They are interpersonal, intra-personal, and extra-personal interests.

People do this over the short and long-term.

The goal is to achieve balance among:

adaptation to current environments,

shaping of those environments, and

choosing a new environment

Baltes and Staudinger (2000, p. 124) define wisdom as “expertise in the fundamental pragmatics of life.” This is further defined as “knowledge and judgment about the essence of the human condition and the ways and means of planning, managing, and understanding a good life.”

Through their research, they developed 5 criteria for evaluating wisdom-related performance:

Factual (declarative) knowledge which asks, ‘What does one know about human nature, interpersonal relations, and social norms?’

Procedural knowledge criteria answers, ‘What strategies does one use to navigate the twists and turns of life?’

Lifespan contextualism criteria consider questions like, ‘Where does everything fit?’ ‘How are things interconnected?’ and ‘How are the various roles – education, family, etc. connected?’

The relativism of values and life priorities allows for the tolerance of differences in values between people.

Recognition of and management of uncertainty criteria acknowledges that we don’t know everything. There are limits to human processing.

Ardelt (2004, p. 257) in contrast to Baltes and Staudinger (2000), viewed wisdom as an “integration of cognitive, reflective, and affective personality characteristics.”

She argues that preserved wisdom (writings) represent theoretical (intellectual) knowledge.

This knowledge doesn’t become wisdom until or unless the person internalizes it.

For this to happen a person must experience the truth contained in the preserved wisdom. Doing this leads to the person becoming wise(r).

Meeks and Jeste (2009) reviewed the wisdom literature and identified common areas. From their review, they created the 6 sub-components of wisdom:

Prosocial attitudes/behaviors: promotion of common good, empathy, social cooperation, and altruism

Social decision making/pragmatic knowledge of life: understanding others’ emotions and motivations and using the information to make “wise” social decisions

Emotional homeostasis: self-control and impulse control; ability to manage oneself in challenging situations

Reflection/self-understanding: self-knowledge

Value relativism/tolerance: perspective-taking behavior

Acknowledgment of and dealing effectively with uncertainty or ambiguity: navigating uncertainty and acknowledging/accepting the limits of what one knows.

Their review also is interesting for its inclusion of specific brain regions believed to play a role in the 6 sub-components.

Peterson and Seligman (2004, p. 39) define wisdom as “knowledge hard fought for, and then used for good.”

They describe it as a noble virtue or trait — one that people appreciate in others.

To date, 5 strengths fall beneath the wisdom umbrella in their research:

Creativity

Curiosity

Judgment

Love of Learning

Perspective

Each of these strengths exists in every person to some degree.

They also can increase in prominence as you learn to use them more.

These strengths are part of a larger list consisting of 24.

The measurement of wisdom is challenging, but not impossible. Most research falls into one of 3 areas:

wise process

wise product, or

wise persons

It’s the combination of these 3 that yields what researchers now agree about: Wise products are generated by wise persons using wise processes.

Issues

Character strengths can be over/underused.

The goal is to achieve optimal use of each of the 24 as needed.

Following are examples of issues arising from over/under use of particular strengths (Niemiec, 2018).

Extreme creativity leads to eccentricity, but a lack of it leads to conformity. We strive for adaptive originality.

Someone who is overly curious is nosy, but a lack of curiosity leads to disinterest. Strive for a balance between exploration/seeking novelty.

Narrow-mindedness and cynicism are judgment “gone bad.” People who lack good judgment tend to skip reflecting on situations. Balanced use marries critical thinking and rationality.

Know-it-alls flaunt their love of learning. Complacent people don’t care. Strive for deepening your knowledge systematically.

Extreme use of perspective is overbearing, and a lack of it is shallowness. A wider view is optimal.

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[opalblade]

04 APRIL 25.

𓂀 THE ASTROLOGY OF BLACK PEOPLE II .

< previous

i mentioned in my first post on this subject that, contrary to popular belief, black people are not ruled by saturn but instead by the sun.

i also said that there was an argument to be made for black people actually being ruled over by jupiter. that's what this post is going to explore.

🌌 JUPITER AND THE BLACK DIASPORA .

jupiter rules over expansion, abundance, religion and spirituality. these themes relate closely to the black diaspora.

expansion: we are spread widely across the world with the majority of us tracing our ancestry to sub-saharan africa and all across the americas.

abundance: sub-saharan africa is widely noted for its abundance in resources. so much so, that people are being exploited for it currently. here's a carrd i found with information on some of these issues. the carrd is easily accessible and hopefully you can educate yourselves on the suffering. i also implore everyone to research the crisis in haiti 🙏🏾.

religion and spirituality: i already touched on this in my previous post on the astrology of black people. you can find a link to that post at the top of this one (labelled "previous").

🌌 JUPITER'S HOUSE RULERSHIP .

9TH HOUSE: this is one of the houses that jupiter rules over. some of its domains are religion, higher education and travel. this was also explored in the first post as the sun rejoices in the 9th house as well.

12TH HOUSE: the twelfth house is another one of the houses that jupiter rules over. some of its domains are imprisonment, loss, self-sacrifice and foreign lands. slavery is the most obvious form of imprisonment here, but black people in several countries are overrepresented in prisons. the loss of life, resources and culture faced during colonisation and slavery is also very 12h coded. many people sacrificed themselves and their livelihoods to gain independence from european rule and from slavery. not to mention, the fact that black people were shipped off to "the new world" reflects the foreign lands aspect of the 12h very well. there's lots more to be said here honestly. the nature of black traditional religions, the way people behave and interact within several black cultures and the generational curses passed down are all very 12h coded. this could honestly be its own post.

11TH HOUSE: this is the house that jupiter rejoices in. the 11h rules over community, dreams and aspirations and humanitarianism. i'll focus on the obvious.... community and humanitarianism. the black lives matter protests in 2020 caught fire like no other and took over the world, taking place in numerous countries. the american civil rights movement influenced several different movements around the world and inspired other groups to protest for their civil rights as well. haiti was not only the first independent black-led country ever, but also the first country to abolish slavery. the aim of pan-africanism, also explored in my first post, was to create a unified black community.

🌌 JUPITER'S EXALTATION AND FALL .

exaltation in cancer + fall in capricorn

now... we all know black women run all black communities 🙂‍↕️. our impact is undeniable - we keep cultures running, develop cultures and many african cultures are matrilineal and even matriarchal. many of our cultures place high importance on water and some of our most important deities are water deities – oshun, mami wata etc. africa is also known as the motherland of all humanity, specifically for people of recent african descent.

jupiter's fall in capricorn speaks to many obvious issues that arise in the black community, especially in our african countries. there is toxic patriarchy that has unfortunately penetrated almost all black communities. the abuse of power on a interpersonal level and also on a state level with our fraudulent politicians. this leads to poor infrastructure in our countries and a lack of development.

. *     .     　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　    ˚ . *     .     　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　

© 2025 opalblade. do not copy, repost, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[mysicklove]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇

DAY 17: VOUYERISM

With: Yoichi Isagi and Meguru Bachira

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Sub/bottom isagi, sub/top bachira, mlm, anal sex, AFAB! reader because of mentions of pegging, but rest is Gn!, overstimulation, doggy style, picture taking, hand job, praise, nickname "baby" once for Isagi

A/N: This is my longest fic yet ! I hope I dont write anything else this long cause how tf am i supposed to write 31 days of this shit

You and Isagi have been dating for a long time. Four years and one hundred and two days to be exact. A long time for people in their twenties, but you loved him, and could never dream about ending it with him.

The two of you had much time to experiment in bed due to how long your relationship has been. Finding out Isagi was more submissive in these types of acts made it much easier for the two of you, and with that knowledge the both of you were determined to find something new and exciting as often as you can. 

So you have tried many things: roleplay, pegging, bondage, strap sucking, sounding, almost everything you can think of, well that are “softer” in the kink domain at least. 

But there are still some things the two of you have not tried. 

“You want me to fuck my best friend in front of you?” Your boyfriend exclaims, eyebrowed raised and mouth open in shock.

“”Best friends”! I am blush–”

“Well he’s actually going to fuck you,” You interrupt, glancing at Bachira who is now staring at Isagi with stars in his eyes.

The dark-haired boy points to himself in confusion, still processing the information. His cheeks warm, and he gulps as he looks over at his soccer partner. The other shoots him a wink and grins as if nothing was amiss. “Yep. Unless you want to fuck me, I am good with that too! Y/N just said you like to take it up–” Isagi covers his mouth in an instant, blushing profusely and looking away. 

He glances back at you, squirming slightly under your gaze. “Isn’t this…Cheating?”

You lean forward and press a soft kiss to his lips, and he melts into it, calming his nerves instantly. “I am asking you to do it,” You say, rubbing your finger along his jaw, with a small reassuring smile.

Bachira sits quietly, but expectantly. The only rule he has was to listen to your commands and the rest was on him. He loved Isagi, so it’s not like he would ever cause him harm, so you weren’t too worried about it.

Isagi nods at you and then turns back to the other boy, the nerves picking up when he makes eye contact with his best friend. “S-Sooooo how do we begi–”

Bachira tackles his best friend with a kiss, pushing the two of them down onto the bedsheets. You chuckle at the eagerness, and Isagi lets out a surprised yelp as his back slams into the mattress.

You grab a pillow and prop it up against the headboard and relax against it, now having a comforting view. The two of them lay in front of you, Bachira still on top, while your boyfriend occasionally sends you glances, as to ask Is this really okay? To which you nod, and hum in encouragement.

Slowly, Isagi begins to relax into the kiss, opening his mouth and allowing Bachiras tongue to slip in. It’s different from your kisses — his are sloppy, and maybe even too much tongue. Still, he doesn’t mind it, though it’s weird to think that he would be kissing someone other than you.

Bachira is the first to pull away, straddling Isagi’s waist and pulling off his shirt. Then he leans forward and helps pulls the other boys off. His lips are back on the boys in an instant, moaning lightly into the kiss. Isagi runs his hands up to the back of the other’s hair, and gently tugs.

Bachira in return mewls into his mouth and bites Isagis lip. The boy yelps out and pulls away, now touching his lip. He turns to you with a small pout. “He bit me!” Then back to Bachira. “You bit me!”

Meguru pants out, “You pulled my hair though? Thought you wanted me to rough you up?”

Isagi fumes at this and turns at you not knowing what to say. You laugh at the two and pat Bachira on his head, considering he is closest to you. “Yoichi is a little bit of a princess. Gotta be treated with care,” You tease, smiling as you run your fingers through the boy’s brown hair.

Your boyfriend grumbles something along the lines of, “I am not a princess,” as he begins to pull off his pants. You grin at him and bark a small laugh.

Bachira on the other hand is soaking up your touch. He seems to purr into it, leaning into the hand. “I’d let you rough me up,” He mumbles with a smile, turning his head to lick your palm.

You raise your eyebrows at his boldness and Isagi scoffs. “Thought you were fucking me?”

“Oooooh Isagi you are jealous little thing aren’t ya? I’m coming, Im coming!” Bachira replies, smiling widely. He seems to pounce on the other before he could murmur a complaint. 

The two continue on and you hum, feeling your own arousal begin to build up. You watch Bachiras hand slip down Isagis’s boxers, and he jumps with a small yelp falling from his lips. “Hands are cold,” He complains to no one in imparticular, before slipping Bachiras pants off.

They both stare at eachother and gulp. The have seen eachother naked in the locker room, hell even Bachira walks around bare every time he gets an opportunity to, but this was different. They were both pulsing, completely hard under each other’s gaze — it was slightly embarrassing. Isagi spares you a glance, and you smile at him. “Different than usual?”

“Y-Yeah. You can say that.”

Bachira chuckles and pulls Isagi back into the kiss, hoping to ease the embarrassment.

The two of them begin grinding against each other, lead by the brown-haired boy. They both are groaning out, pulling away from one another and panting. You take this time to take an indulgent look at the two of their cocks. Isagis is slightly larger, but not by much. Bachiras is thinner, but long.

“Like what you see?” Bachira grins at you, his face red from his movements. 

You chuckle at him, crossing your legs and leaning forward. “You are so pretty Meguru,” You purr, just out of curiosity to see his reaction.

He giggles in return, blushing slightly and then burying his head into Isagis neck. “Mhmmm! You are so lucky Isagi!” 

Isagis hazy eyes flicker to yours and he frowns. “Don’t pout at me. You are just as pretty and you know that ‘chi.”

He seems to take a liking to this answer, so he wraps his arms around Bachiras neck. The dark-haired boy whispers, “You going to do it or not?” into the other’s ear.

“On it boss!” Meguru nods frantically, and begins to prod his finger at Isagis entrance. 

“He’s already prepped," You interrupt before Bachira could question it. "Did it earlier, told him we had a surprise." Isagi slightly blushes, but nods in agreement.

Meguru lets out a long drawn-out whine. “No fair. You guys are taking away all the fun.”

You laugh at the boy, but shrug. Isagi mumbles out a halfhearted, “Sorry man."

Suddenly Isagi is being flipped. He now lays on his stomach, eyes wide, and staring directly at you. He gulps and gives you a small awkward wave. You chuckle and lean forward to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“From behind?” You question, as you pull away from your boyfriend. Bachira begins to pour lube onto his fingers, and directly on the source, causing Isagi to shiver from the coolness of it. 

“Thought you would like seeing Isagis face! Or um, both of ours?” The last part came out as more of a mumble, unsure of his place here.

You lean forward and press a kiss to his lips. Isagi lets out a small shocked noise, and Bachira moans into your mouth, eager by the act of affection. 

You pull away with a small grin, and Bachira stares at you with heavy-lidded eyes. “I’d love to see it.” 

The boy giggles again in response and you smile softly at him. Isagi calls out your name, craning his neck up toward you to give you easier access. You press your lips to his, holding him up by his chin. He groans into your mouth, beginning to inch his tongue in.

Suddenly his eyes fly open and he lets out a broken moan. You pull away to see Bachira behind him, pressing his tip inside already. His hands lay on the other’s hips, and he stares, slightly panting and pressing more of himself in. 

“Impatient, are we?” You question, eyes meeting his yellow ones.

“Ba–ahhh! S-Slow down! I cant–” Isagi hisses, gnawing on the pillow to help ease the intense sensation. Bachira was bigger than anything he has taken before. He was used to smaller toys, and always seem to tremble at the thought of taking something big. This was a whole new feeling for the boy.

He trembles slightly, and Bachira huffs, wiping away a strand from his forehead. “S-So tight, Isagi. I thought you were prepped?”

“I am, asshole! You are going too fast!”

“Yoichi, play nice. He didn’t know,” You coo, brushing back his bangs and sparing him a warm smile. He whines at you, pouting lightly when you take the other side. “But Meguru, take it slow. He’s never taken anything of your size.”

Bachira seems to perk up at this, tearing his eyes from Isagis hips to you. “You think I’m big?”

“Don’t let it get to your head egoist.”

He seems to like this answer, grinning at you, but nodding. “Mines bigger,” Isagi mumbles into the pillow, his back slightly arched to meet Bachiras hips. 

Bachira begins to move again, finally bottoming out. The blue hair boy keens at the feeling, a small yelp falling from his lips. He shuts his eyes and waits for himself to get adjusted. “Hmm you’re right. Maybe then next time we can switch positions!”

Isagi barks a laugh, grateful in the moment for his best friend’s upbeat energy. It seems to ease away the discomfort. After a couple more seconds, he just feels strangely full, less uncomfortable overall.

You watch as Bachira rests his hands on Isagis hips. He sits on his knees from behind the other who is still on all fours. Both of them are flushed red, slightly from the feeling and slightly from the whole thing in general. Never would have thought that they would be fucking each other.

You hum at Bachira, snapping him out of his thoughts. Your eyes tell him to move, so he nods and pulls out, and then in again. 

The two begin to pant, and Bachira keeps to a slow but deep pace, while Isagi is staring up at you. He blinks at you, mouth open to take in more air, and eyes beginning to fog. 

You smile at him and pat his head. “Doing so good Yoichi. Does Megurus cock feel good?”

At the sound of his name, Bachira begins to pick up the pace. He tightens his grip on the other’s hips, and furrows his eyebrows, focusing now on the task at hand. 

Isagi moans out at the change of pace. His eyes slightly roll and he nods at you. “Mhmmm. G-Good.”

Meguru smiles at this, his own moans slipping past him. They are higher in pitch, whiny even, contrasting Isagis lower sort of grumbles of moans. Both were equally cute. With each second, Bachira grows more confident. The sound of slapping skin fills the air, along with an assortment of sounds. 

“Isagis ass feels s-so good! C-Cant get enough of it!” Bachira exclaims, collapsing forward on top of the other, his hands falling next to Isagis shoulders. He presses his chest against the boy’s back when the other’s knees begin to give out.

The two of their faces were inches away from your crossed legs, Isagis now tear-streaked halfway buried into the pillow. It was cute to see him like this, with every breath a whimpery moan escapes, and he was trembling under the weight of it. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You are going too hard!”

You peer up at Bachira, who is panting heavily now, a small fucked out grin on his face as he seems to only chase his own pleasure. When he feels your gaze, he slightly frowns, afraid you’ll tell him off. “No, please don’t make me slow down! Feels good. I can’t!”

To prove his point, he reaches under Isagi and begins to stroke him off. The blue-haired boys whole body seems to jerk, and a whole new set of tears drip down his cheek. “F-Fuck! Not both at o-once,” he pleads, gripping the pillow with trembling hands.

You don’t say anything, even when Isagi glances up at you with wet, glassy eyes. His whole face is red, and his body bounces toward you with each thrust. You reach down and rub his tears away, and he sniffles at you, before letting out a loud whiny moan when he feels the other graze his prostate. 

“Did you think that at yesterday’s practice, that only the next day your partner would be fucking you in the ass?” You say above the lewd squelching noises. 

Bachira giggles at this, even if the question wasn’t directed to him. “I was–I was so excited!” He sighs, shivering slightly from above him. “It’s better than I thought it would be. Isagi is so warm. And–And t-tight!”

Isagi fumes at both of your statements, his whole face bright pink. The tears don’t make his case any better. He looks absolutely adorable right now, already fucked out. He slightly shakes his head, looking away.

You pull at your phone and point it at the two heads, wanted to keep this photo in your collection of Isagis fucked dumb faces. Bachira takes notice of this and immediately tries to grin, but it comes out wobbly and his eyes are half-lidded. Isagi doesn’t even try to change positions, too fucked out to even care. Meguru takes this time to plunge a finger into his mouth, pulling at the skin to form a makeshift smile. 

It doesn’t work, instead, it just makes Isagi drool even more, and his tongue begins to hang out. You snap the picture and press a kiss to both of their cheeks in thanks. Bachira blushes and tries to smile, while Isagi doesn’t even react, seeming to be in his own little world. 

He is completely limp by this time, his legs given out, but you can see him slightly buck his hips into Bachiras hand. He’s mumbling something along the line of, “So good. ’s so good.” 

Suddenly, he tenses up and grips at the sheets. His whole body begins to shake and he lets out broken airy gasps as he stares at you with wide eyes.

You and Bachira stare, shocked. “Yoichi, did you just–”

“Fuckkkkkkk!” He exclaims, tears coming out in globs and his whole body trembles. Bachira pulls his hand away, that’s now covered in cum. You bark a small laugh, shocked by your lover. He always announced when he had to cum. He must have gotten lost in the pleasure.

You grab the washcloth next to you and wipe his hand off, Bachira’s thrusts slowing down to let you. Once done, he plants his hands back from above the dark-haired boy and begins to pick it up again. “W-Wait but I already!” Isagis says, eyes looking back at you desperately in a plea.

“Meguru hasn’t cum yet. Don’t be selfish, baby.”

He whines out, but a particularly hard thrust makes him lose his breath. “S’alright. D-Dont worry, Isagi. Im close. Im close,” Bachira pants into Isagis neck, his voice shaky and breathless. 

“C-Can I cum?” The boy asks, craning his neck up to look at you, his own eyes beginning to water.

You cock your head to the side and smile at him. “Sure Meguru. Why, aren’t you a good boy?”

He preens at the praise, nodding into Isagis neck, and now wanting desperately to coax some more out of you. It makes him feel giddy, but nice, warm even.

Isagi, whose head is still spinning, and his body tingling from overstimulation, whimpers at your words. “Sorry. ‘m sorry! Im g-good–Ah! too! Please please please!”

You rub your fingers down his face and he shakily grabs at your hands a broken sob falling from his lips at Bachiras force. “Shhh. You are doing so good Yoichi. Such a good boy for me.”

He nods into your touch, soaking up the words, and you use the other hand to pet Bachira’s head. “Im–Im cumming! Oh fuck oh fuck!” He quickly pulls out of Isagi and reaches back to stroke himself off through it.

He cums onto the dark-haired boy’s ass, and back. He hisses through it, shutting his eyes and grinding his teeth together. You coax him through it with soft coos, while Isagi leans into your hand as he waits for his best friend to come down from his high. His legs shake and fall limp against the bed.

A couple of seconds later Bachira collapses next to him. The both of them are on their stomachs next to one other. Immediately, Bachira is cuddling up to Isagi, loving the warmth of the other. You grin at the two and run your fingers through their hair. 

“Well, that was fun! Was I really a good boy?” Bachira exclaims, his energy coming back not even minutes later. He peers up at you and kicks his legs from behind him.

Isagi throws him a weak punch on the shoulder, too exhausted to do any better. “Watch it. That’s my nickname. Worked four years for it.”

Bachira lets out a dramatic whine. “What? Isagiiiii. Don’t be so selfish!”

“Maybe if you bottom next time, they will call you that. You'll see what hell I was put through to deserve it,” Isagi sighs, cuddling up to your knee and the pillow beneath him. You smile at him, and he seems to purr under your touch.

Bachira taps his chin, and cocks his head to the side. “Then why did you cum so early if you didn’t like it?”

Isagi grabs the pillow next to him and shoves it in his best friend’s face. “Stupid fucking egoist,” He sighs, closing his eyes, even with his face blooming red from embarrassment.

You hear Bachiras muffled laugh from behind the pillow.

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[iniquitousyearning]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Seven-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktov. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Degradation Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation, Violence, Aggression, Blood, Slapping, Slight Masochism, Sexual Aggression, WeaponizingEnzoBerkshire(im sorry?), Fingering, DARK THEMES.

***FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"Rowena, render me resilient." You huffed, mumbling to yourself while pulling your infuriated corpse out of the creaky wooden chair in the empty potions classroom. "I'm going to fucking kill that boy."

Mattheo was thirty minutes late. Thirty. Three. Zero.

At first, you dismissed his tardiness, convincing yourself it was just another instance of his habitual delay--and in those initial ten minutes, you buried yourself in your homework, trying to maintain an air of indifference. But as the clock ticked away, another ten minutes, then another five, your patience wore thin, your nerves splintering with palpable annoyance. From that point on, each passing second seemed to echo with the ghost of his absence, amplifying your frustration.

The room seemed to close in on you as you stared at the clock, wondering why he would brush you off so callously when he damn-well knew he was the only fucking reason you were there, in that classroom, in the bloody first place.

The single-minded focus on confronting Mattheo propelled you forward, urging you to swing open the creaky wooden door with a determined force. As you stepped into the eerie, freezing corridor of the dungeons, your resolve transformed into a palpable energy, driving you forward with every purposeful stride. The anticipation of the impending confrontation overshadowed any trepidation, making you oblivious to the typical nerves that might have accompanied a situation like this.

As you approached the Slytherin common room, the distant thumping of loud music permeated the heavy door, sending vibrations through the floor beneath your feet. Despite the unfamiliar territory and the intimidating reputation of the Slytherin's domain--which was often veiled in a haze of marijuana smoke and the lingering scent of alcohol--your anger acted as a shield, eclipsing any reservations or second thoughts.

Your frustration boiled over as you banged on the door with a force that reverberated through the wood, echoing your impatience. With each pounding knock, a faint haze of smoke seeped out from the cracks around the door, a telltale sign of the revelry inside--it felt like centuries had past before the door swung open, a thick cloud of smoke billowing out from the bustling common room; and before you could react, a Slytherin student you didn't recognize--tall and imposing, grabbed your arm and yanked you inside, pulling you close to him.

He pressed you against the door as he slammed it shut behind you, his eyes narrowing as he scanned your appearance from head to toe, clearly suspicious of your presence inside his domain.

"Who the hell are you, and what do you think you're doing here?" he demanded, his voice sharp and laced with suspicion. The scent of alcohol mingled with the smoke, adding an acrid edge to the atmosphere as he scrutinized you, waiting for an explanation. "You're out of your bloody depth little Ravenclaw...some nerve-"

You stammered, hardly able to catch your words. "I-I'm Mattheo's tutor...he didn't show up to-"

"Mattheo's tutor, huh?" he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery as he cut you off. "Well, good luck trying to drag him out of this madness on a Friday night. Once he's in, he's in deep, and nobody can rescue him, especially not a helpless little Ravenclaw like you."

His grip on your arm tightened, emphasizing his point, the pressure sending a jolt of pain through your body. Your stomach twisted as you watched his lips curl into a cruel smirk, his blue eyes glinting with sadistic amusement.

"You're better off running along before you get sucked into our world. We Slytherins don't play nice, especially when it comes to parties."

With that, he shoved you away from the door, dismissing you with an irritated flick of his hand, leaving you standing there, caught between frustration and helplessness, engulfed in the suffocating haze of smoke and the pounding rhythm of the music as you attempted to gather yourself. Admittedly, the smell was getting to your head, you pulse pounding in your temples and matching the base of the music. You shot your gaze around the room, in search of any sort of sign that Mattheo was around--but you didn't get very far before you felt movement behind you.

Your heart raced as you spun around, finding yourself surrounded by practically all the boys from the infamous Slytherin Quidditch team, their cold gazes assessing you with a mix of curiosity and arrogance. Draco Malfoy, the groups undeniable leader, sneered at you, his blond hair perfectly styled despite the chaotic atmosphere of the room.

"Well, well, look what we have here, boys," Draco drawled, his tone dripping with superiority. "A lost little Ravenclaw wandering into our house. Did you take a wrong turn on your way to the library, sweetheart?"

You swallowed, your eyes shooting around at each of the men as they circled around you, Theodore Nott and Regulus Black shared a knowing glance, exchanging silent communication that made your skin crawl. Blaise Zabini, the schools best known charmer, stepped closer, his smug smile sending chills down your spine.

"Or perhaps you're here to join the party?" he suggested, his eyes lingering on you in a way that made your skin prickle with discomfort. Lorenzo Berkshire, the powerhouse of the team, folded his arms over his chest, his expression unreadable as he observed you. The room seemed to close in around you, the haze of smoke thickening as their presence suffocated the air.

With every instinct screaming at you to escape, you tried to muster courage. "I-I'm just looking for Mattheo," you stammered, your voice barely audible over the pulsating music. "I'm his tutor, and he was supposed to meet me for a study session...I came to find him."

Theodore smirked, tilting his head as he scrutinized you with a calculating gaze. "I don't recall Mattheo mentioning anything about a tutor," he said, his voice low and edged with suspicion. "Are you sure you're in the right place, Bella?"

"Or, perhaps you're here for something other than tutoring?" Lorenzo said, his voice like a low growl--your nerves multiplying as he took a deliberate step forward, his eyes never leaving yours. "You should know that little birds who dare to venture into the snake's den rarely ever make it out alive..."

Lorenzo's words stirred something inside your chest, your stomach twisting into a knot so tight you thought for sure your intestines were about to explode. The boys, their eyes gleaming with a sinister intent, moved forward with calculated steps, their chuckles weaving through the air like unsettling whispers. They encircled you, a menacing dance of predators closing in on their prey-the glint in their eyes mirroring the sharpness of fangs as they closed the gap, enveloping you in a suffocating sense of dread.

You couldn't help but to be acutely aware of the irony of the situation, you were the helpless little bird ensnared in the midst of hungry snakes--desperate for rescue that you knew would never come--internally freaking the fuck out until you steeled your shoulders, gathering every single last ounce of your courage to meet Enzo's burning gaze head on--a glint of defiance twinkling behind your eyes.

"Little bird, Berkshire?" you taunted, your voice ringing through the room as you took a bold step toward him, your head held high to meet his eyes. "Last time I checked, the Ravenclaw emblem was an Eagle…unless it’s changed without my knowledge…" you continued, your gaze unwavering, watching his jaw clench with irritation. "Do you know what eagles are capable of, Berkshire? Or is that information too elevated for your limited intelligence?"

Lorenzo's lips curled into a contemptuous smile. "Save your Ravenclaw wit for your textbooks, little bird," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "In our den, you're just prey, no matter what emblem you wear."

The boys around you chuckled darkly, their laughter echoing through the room like the hiss of snakes, only fuelling your urge to defend yourself further. Lorenzo took another step forward and you straightened your shoulders.

"Your attempts to wield venom through words mirror your feeble Quidditch endeavors…always falling short of the impact you intend," you sneered, your confidence cutting through the tension. "Perhaps it's time to reevaluate your definition of prey, considering the ones who underestimate tend to fall the hardest."

Lorenzo's nostrils flared, his face turning crimson with rage. "You got quite the mouth on you, little fucking brat," he spat, his voice sharp as a dagger, hand reaching up to grip your jaw, pulling you tight against him--the scent of alcohol flooding your nostrils as his free hand gripped your hip, your mouth parting in complete, paralyzing shock. "You want to fucking say that again, huh?"

The boys surrounding the two of you exchanged uneasy glances, their initial amusement morphing into concern as they realized just how far he was willing to take things. A few of them took cautious steps back, their confidence waning in the face of Lorenzo's escalating rage.

Your voice wavered, a mixture of fear and defiance. "Let go of me."

"Not so tough now, are you?" He chuckled darkly, his grip tightening. "You're bloody pathe-"

Lorenzo's malicious words hung in the air, pregnant with menace, but they were abruptly silenced by a deep, furious rumble that reverberated through the room.

"Berkshire," you recognized that voice. You’d never, ever not recognize that fucking voice. "What the fuck are you doing?"

The resonance of his voice was like a rolling thunder, each syllable echoing off the stone walls and sending tangible shivers down your spine. The very atmosphere seemed to quiver in response, and you could almost feel the raw power of his anger vibrating in the air, setting the entire room on edge. Enzo's eyes widened in alarm, his confident facade crumbling like fragile parchment in the face of Mattheo's wrath.

Slowly turning, Enzo locked eyes with the approaching Riddle, whose gaze blazed with an unyielding fire, and without giving him a chance to react, Mattheo surged forward, his movements swift and deadly. His fist, wrapped in a tempest of rage, found its target in Enzo's jaw with a resounding impact.

The force of the blow sent shockwaves through the room, Enzo's head snapping violently to the side, a spray of crimson erupting from the corner of his lip, painting the air with the evidence of Mattheo's strength--and the room stood still for a moment, suspended in a heartbeat of sheer shock as Enzo stumbled backward, his once-defiant demeanor now entirely shattered.

In the wake of Mattheo's ferocity, the room remained suspended in a tense silence, like a captured breath waiting to be released, the echo of the impact still ringing in your ears. Enzo, once the epitome of arrogance and aggression, now stood stunned, his hand clutching his injured jaw as he struggled to regain his balance. The other boys, previously reveling in their sadistic taunts, stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief at the sudden turn of events.

Mattheo, his chest heaving with restrained fury, stepped forward, his gaze locked onto Enzo.

"Touch her again," he growled, his voice low and menacing, "and I'll make sure you regret every last moment you spend at this fucking school."

Enzo, now visibly shaken, nodded weakly, a mix of fear and humiliation clouding his eyes. Without another word, Mattheo turned his attention to you, his expression softening slightly, concern flickering in his eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentler now, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions that had just erupted in the room. "Did he hurt you?"

Your mind buzzed with a whirlwind of emotions, struggling to process the chaotic events that had just unfolded. Numbly, you shook your head, your hand instinctively reaching up to rub your jaw, still tingling from the force of Enzo's grip.

"No," you said, not daring to meet his eyes. "I'm fine."

With a nod, Mattheo turned, his eyes boring into the remaining onlookers, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. "Enough gawking. Move along," he ordered, his tone laced with steel. "This isn't a show for your fucking amusement."

The intensity in his words sent the spectators scrambling like startled crows, leaving you and Mattheo in the quiet aftermath, the weight of the recent events hanging heavily in the air as he peered down at you with dark eyes.

"You came looking for me?" he whispered, his voice barely audible above the fading echoes of the room. "Thought you'd appreciate a night off from my bullshit."

Your chest seized as you eyed his face--the cut across his nose from yesterday still faintly bleeding, swatches of blood still decorating his jawline and cheekbones--you couldn't deny that this boy was a bloody mess. A cunning, arrogant, complicated fucking mess--but Gods, was he fucking attractive.

"I don't appreciate being blown off without notice, Riddle..." you huffed, chewing on the inside of your cheek. "Not that you could ever relate."

“You’re right, I can’t..I usually get some notice before being blown.” With a slight smirk, he gripped your wrist, meeting your eyes. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

Mattheo's hold on your wrist was firm yet oddly reassuring as he guided you through the chaotic Slytherin common room. The room was a cacophony of laughter, music, and rowdy students, but his presence seemed to part the crowd effortlessly, creating a path for the two of you with ease. The air outside the common room was a welcome relief, free from the suffocating haze of smoke and the overwhelming scent of alcohol. Mattheo didn't release your wrist, his touch lingering, and you found yourself following his lead as he navigated the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts.

Silence settled between you, broken only by the distant echoes of the party behind you. Mattheo's expression was unreadable, his eyes focused ahead, as if he was deep in thought. The tension that had gripped you inside the common room began to dissipate, replaced by a strange sense of calm in his presence. As you walked, you stole glances at his profile--his jawline sharp, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes a stormy mix of emotions.

There was something different about him tonight, something vulnerable beneath his usual composed facade.

As the two of you finally reached the vacant potions room, Mattheo relinquished his hold on your wrist, allowing his fingers to slide away like the fading echo of a melody. He gently pressed open the ancient door of the classroom, and you slowly ventured inside.

Your senses heightened, capturing every subtle nuance of the space. The faint creak of the floorboards beneath your weight, the distant hoot of an owl, and the rustle of leaves against the windowpane merged into a symphony of nocturnal sounds. The anticipation in the air crackled like static electricity, wrapping around you as Mattheo's presence loomed closer, his warmth seeping through the layers of your uniform.

A singular step carried you further into the room, yet your feet rebelled against moving any closer. Your body buzzed with a peculiar blend of apprehension and curiosity, a tingling sensation that crawled beneath your skin. Mattheo's proximity felt palpable, his body brushing against you as he stood just behind, a silent guardian in the obsidian night.

The click of the lock reverberated through the chamber, its sound shattering the silence like a fragile glass.

His words caressed your ear as he spoke, accompanied by the strong scent of whiskey on his breath. "You're a goddamn handful, Raven..."

At the sound of his voice, your lids fluttered involuntarily, warmth creeping down your back, you were beyond thankful that he was behind you and couldn't see your reaction.

Your voice was a breath as it left your lips. "That's funny, coming from you..."

"Touché, princess." He hummed, the vibration massaging your spine. You tensed as his hand brushed your shoulder, pulling your hair back with it. "I'm sorry about Berkshire...he's a real charmer..."

You huffed, shaking your head, dismissing the heat that pooled in your core with each passing moment of his proximity. "Seems like all you Slytherin men are...certainly know how to dish it out, but don't know how to take it, hm?"

His lips curled into a smirk, his tone laced with arrogance. "Oh, we know how to take it, Raven," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I certainly do, anyways..."

Your breath caught in your throat. "I'm not so sure about that, Riddle...my mouth has gotten you going many times now..."

"Fucking right it has..." he growled, lips grazing the sensitive skin on your neck. "But I can handle you...the real question is, can you handle me..."

Your pulse was flying, rocketed somewhere into another galaxy. "Haven't I proved myself yet..."

A low, rumbling chuckle escaped him, reverberating through the room. His warm breath brushed against your skin, sending shivers of anticipation across your flesh. His tongue traced a torturous path up the side of your throat, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His hands hovered over your hips, their presence magnetic, hesitating slightly before tightening their grip as if uncertain of your response.

"Not even fucking close, princess..." he purred, his words dripping with desire. "You have a long ways to go still..."

A soft, involuntary sound escaped your lips, your head falling back against his shoulder, surrendering to the intoxicating sensations that coursed through you. Resistance seemed futile; you were utterly ensnared in his grasp. He wielded an irresistible power over you, and you had no strength left to resist, even if you wanted to--all you had were words; empty, meaningless words.

"I thought you didn't want to do this anymore," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the hushed breaths between you. "I thought you just wanted me to be your tutor."

Mattheo's grip intensified. "I said a lot of things last night that I didn't mean, Raven..." he murmured against your neck. "I was drunk."

"You're drunk right now, too, Mattheo..." you muttered, unable to hide your amusement. "Bloody hell, you have issues."

"I know...I've gotta work some shit out," his teeth nipped your earlobe, you could practically feel the smirk on his lips. "I'm exercising my demons, Raven, I promise..."

His words hung in the air, laced with desperation and a yearning for understanding, as if he sought solace in your presence but didn't know how to ask for it--with a sharp inhale, your hands found his, and when he loosened his grasp on your hips, you spun around to face him, meeting his dark, penetrating eyes.

Your hands fell to your sides, fingers trembling as your gaze darted from his eyes to his lips, and back to his eyes. "What the fuck do you want from me, Mattheo Riddle..." you whispered. "Give me a solid answer...for once in your bloody-"

"I want you," he cut you off, his hand shifting to cup the side of your face. "...I want you on your knees for me..." his thumb brushed your cheek, his head tilting. "...I want you swallowing my cum..." he wet his lips, leaning closer, "...but most of all, I want you moaning my fucking name until it's the only word that pretty little mouth knows how to say."

Your lips parted, a soft exhale of contentment escaping your throat as he brushed his mouth against yours, stealing every breath from your lungs.

"But…you can't stand me, remember..." you whispered, your voice trembling like fragile glass. "You hate me..."

"Yeah," he huffed, his gaze flickering to your lips. "I hate you."

Your heart thundered against your ribs. "You hate me.”

"Yeah, I fucking hate you," he replied, his eyes simmering with intensity. "Do you hate me?"

"Yes," you responded, the words flowing from your lips like molten lava. You needed no time to think about it, not even a second. "I hate you."

"Yeah?" His eyes darkened, his features glossing over with something that made your stomach twist. "Say it again."

"I hate you, Mattheo Riddle..." you murmured, his lips brushing over yours again, sending electric sparks across your skin while his hand slithered around your lower back, pulling you closer. "I hate you so much."

He gripped your uniform between his fist, a low chuckle leaving his throat, his voice dripping with seductive arrogance. "I don't think I believe you, Raven." He purred, his warm breath caressing your lips. "Maybe you should prove it."

He pressed his lips to yours in one swift, powerful kiss, the intensity of it leaving you breathless. His mouth trailed a scorching path along your jawline, his tousled curls tickling your cheek as his warm breath fanned your skin. Speaking became a struggle amidst the sensations that engulfed you.

"How do you propose I do that?" you managed to breathe out, your voice barely audible over the thundering beat of your heart. His lips moved to your ear, pressing against it with a tantalizing heat.

"Hit me," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

"What?" Your body erupted in an incomprehensible collection of emotions, admittedly taken back by his request. "Why-"

"Hit me," he repeated, voice harsher now. "Just like last night--fucking slap me, Raven...don't be shy, you know I deserve it..."

The intensity behind his words propelled you into action, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. Without a moment's hesitation, you inhaled a sharp breath and drew your hand back, the room electrified with anticipation. With swift precision, your palm met his cheek in a sharp, resounding smack--his tousled chocolate curls dancing upon impact, his head jerking to the side.

In the charged aftermath of your slap, a potent silence hung in the air, laden with fervent anticipation. When he smirked, his eyes ablaze with a searing intensity, it felt like a scorching brand against your skin. Undaunted and admittedly more fucking turned on than you'd ever been before, you wound your hand back again--this time, your slap landed with a fiercer impact, a guttural groan escaping his lips as your palm connected with his cheek for the second time.

Before you could register what was happening, his hand gripped a fistful of your hair, his strength surprising you, and he spun you around. With a forceful push, he shoved you against the wall, the impact sending a shiver down your spine. His lips crashed onto yours with a hunger that matched the storm raging within you, igniting a fire that threatened to consume you both.

"You like that, Raven?" He purred, his fingers working to untuck your blouse before slipping underneath the fabric, the sensation of touch sending shivers down your spine. "You like making me fucking hurt, huh?"

"Gods, yes," you gasped, words choked through your breath as his fingers teased your nipple under the fabric of your bra. "You deserve so much more than that."

"That's right," he groaned, arrogance flooding his tone, lips moving like a sin along your neck, igniting your senses. "I'm a piece of shit, aren't I...using you like this...taking you as my little fucking toy when I said I wouldn't..."

A shuddering breath escaped your lips, your fingers tangling in his hair, unable to deny the raw intensity of your desires for even a single fucking second longer.

"Mattheo," you gasped, your voice barely audible, your body amplifying your words as it pressed closer to his, spine arching as he teased your nipple. "Touch me...please, just fucking touch me..."

"There she fucking is...there's my dirty little slut..." Mattheo groaned, low in his throat, teeth sinking into your neck. "Begging for me without even needing to be told...fuck, you learn so quickly, don't you..."

As his hand trailed down your stomach, you let out a shaky breath, feeling the heat of his touch flood through you. The trail of embers he left in his wake had your mind reeling, making it hard to even form coherent thoughts--your heart pounding so hard you were completely fucking certain he could hear it.

"Matty..." you whimpered, his teeth marking your neck, your grip tightening in his hair.

As his fingers slipped under the hem of your skirt and found their way to the mound of your pussy, you couldn't help but arch your back, pressing your hips closer to his hand. The fabric of your thong did little to impede the sensation, and you felt your body responding involuntarily to his touch. Your bodies were pressed tightly against each other, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in rhythm with you.

"Shh," he murmured, hand slipping from your hair and clamping over your lips. "You'll need to be quiet princess...you don't want to get caught like this, do you?"

His body shuddered against yours as you mewled, the vibration sending a wave of pleasure through your limbs. Mattheo pressed himself harder against you, his hardness pressing against your thigh--the sensation sending a jolt of excitement through you, causing you to roll your hips against him in response. You were so fucking far gone now, there was absolutely no saving you. You wanted more of him, all of him, every single inch he wanted to fucking give you.

"Oh my fuck-" Mattheo's voice was a breathless growl as he slipped his fingers under your thong and slid a finger through your soaked slit, your entire body jolting against his--a loose moan reverberating through your chest. "Oh fuck, Raven...you're so fucking wet..."

Breath hitching, engulfed in a deluge of lust, you wriggled against him, lava already flowing out from your centre and through your veins.

"Look at what I fucking do to you..." he pressed your head against the wall, his own head shifting back to meet your eyes. "Who else gets you this fucking wet, huh? Fuck...this little pussy already belongs to me..."

You choked back a moan, stifled under his rough palm as the pad of his finger drew slow circles around your clit, warmth flooding your body. Your hands clutched the fabric of his shirt now, digging in with enough intensity to slice the fabric with your nails. Mattheo growled, watching every ministration of your face under his hand, rubbing faster in response, sending shocks of pleasure through you, your hips bucking.

"That's it...fuck..." he muttered, loosing himself in your eyes, in the heat of your pussy dripping from his touch. "No turning back now, Raven...you're going to fucking cum for me...you're going to make yourself mine..."

Your lids fluttered, body trembling, oxygen fleeing you without hesitation; short, insistent groans escaping your throat, his fingers assailing your stiff nub. You were balancing on your peak, ready to tip over, never knowing pleasure so fucking intense in your entire life.

"Look at me." He hissed. "Look into my fucking eyes as you cum for me."

Every nerve in your body felt electrified, pulsating with a pleasure so intense it was almost painful--chest rolling and head spinning as you met his eyes; drowning in their chocolate intensity. His touch, his gaze, everything about him overwhelmed your senses, plunging you into a euphoria you had never experienced before. You were gone, hardly hearing his words, hardly even conscious, the sensations flowing through you were unlike anything you've ever known. And then, before you had a chance to accept it, white light flashed in front of your vision, blurring your sight, a blissful heat ripping through you and shattering your sanity as you squealed into his palm--Mattheo’s lips parting and his chest heaving as he watched you, not daring to blink, not even daring to breathe.

You became aware how tight you had been holding him, and you quickly released him, a wave of hot shame washing over you. Your hair was sticking to your face, your cheeks tingling.

"Such a good girl," he said, lifting his fingers from your pussy and bringing them to his lips, shoving them past his teeth, holding your stare as he sucked your juices off of them before slowly pulling them out with a pop. "Just getting a taste of what I have to look forward to later."

You exhaled a long, trembling breath--your conscious slowly returning.

“Gods,” you gawked, speechless, body still tingling with the aftershock of your climax. “What are you doing to me, you plague of a boy…”

He chuckled darkly, his lips curling into a malicious smile. “Told you I’d ruin you Raven…” he said. “I may be many things, but a liar isn’t one.”

———————

Here’s eight->

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

What if everything is the same but creator mc reincarnate as melusine, but as a new sub species like a lizard or something aquatic liked a ocolot

And they are still have domain of the water but more safer in a fresh water spring

i will assume you mean axolotl because i'm pretty sure ocelots aren't aquatic (they're so cute though,,,, spotted string bean cats)

you're a little like the Melusine, a little like the Vishaps- a combination of lizard, dragon-ish traits and bloopy squishiness, and most comfortable deep underwater, fresh, not salt. it's safe and quiet down at the bottom of your little lake, the first place you took refuge in after you woke up again. no one comes to bother you- they're all too frightened of the monsters that prowl the area, the hilichurls and odd, alien breacher primuses. occasionally you'll see the Melusine skipping around and poke your head out to say hello. they give you flowers and shells, and you give them strange, glowing coral that only seems to flourish in freshwater under your care. the only one apart from the Melusine who dares to find you is Foul Legacy, entirely following the instincts that draw him towards an unassuming spring nestled in the middle of Elynas

Legacy delicate sniffs the surface of the water, leaping back in surprise when you stick the tip of your nose out, a pair of feelers waving on your head. carefully he leans in, crystalline eye tracing over the faint, shimmering scars on your body, and suddenly his glittering wings begin to flutter in awe

you rarely discuss the fact that you're the Creator- you know, he knows, and you've been hurt and killed because of it. both of you have been mere things, to be hunted or used as a weapon, so together you reconcile simply existing as yourselves. Foul Legacy can hold his breath for hours at a time, and he loves curling around you at the very bottom of the pond for a short nap. you gather the pearls and shells from the Melusine and a few pieces of your favorite coral, decorating Legacy's hair and fluff with the little treasures as he sits still as a statue, aside from the slight hum of his purr. in exchange he uses his Vision to push and pull at the water, forming shapes and little waves for you to happily swim around in

you and Foul Legacy, alone, quiet, and happy

[fairytsuk1]

get on your knees | (s)

apart of maki's kinktober: the 2024 anthology

prompt: creampie, praise/degradation, secretary!au

pairing: shota aizawa x reader

words: 6.4k

warnings: unprofessionalism, boss/secretary relationship, dom/sub themes, impact play, degradation and praise, strangers to lovers, creampie, body worship

"Yep. Yep, thank you. Call us again if you need further help. Our way is the right way. Thank you. Goodbye."

How much longer could you keep this up? Between shrill old ladies desperate for solutions to their self-caused issues and the men who wanted to turn your customer service line into a phone sex hotline, you were running out of both patience and sympathy.

You knew it'd be dull work when you applied. It was in the name: customer service representative. You didn't mind. Dull work meant working as a stocker and meticulously organizing food products. It meant waking up early and chatting with the same group of people over the same brand of weak coffee every day. It could be meaningless; it could be meaningful.

Your temples are rubbed by your fingers, aching for relief, and you wonder if your company is any good with benefits after you've quit.

Real people were missed by you. No more old women and pervy men. You wanted something substantial. Something real, something alive. You decide you need to get outside, away from the phone. Your poised, fake voice was due for a break.

Your lunch is subbed for an afternoon walk. The same route you always take, the same things you pass by like always. It's all the same. Trees bend and sway under the will of the wind, and you find yourself looking down at the ground. Did you always do that?

The coffee shop is bustling, the bookstore is closed, and the park is full of screaming, laughter, and joy. The police station looks lifeless as always, but the local lawyer's office is… open, shining and bright, and strangely standing out. The actual building is cream and desert colors, yet its sign has bright bulbs exclaiming help wanted.

In tiny font under the main signage, you read "secretary."

It would be dull work. Lawyer jargon, a hot lawyer who you hear from around town is to die for. Like smooth chocolate. Your sneakers pad on the ground before you're even aware of it, carrying you past the threshold of oak doors into the domain of law.

Inside, it's dark and stormy. It is entirely opposite to the outside, making your head spin. It's quiet, and your footsteps echo as you traverse the halls looking for the lawyer. There's no one at the secretary's desk, and you can't help the daunting hand that runs over its ridges as you pass by.

Another oak door sits menacingly ajar. You press forward. Your heart stutters in your chest, butterflies hatching as you see him sitting cleanly, sexy and firm.

There he is. He's got inky black hair pulled neatly into a low bun; your breath catches in your throat when stormy dark eyes pull up from paperwork to you. You feel so exposed, so on display, as you fidget and murmur, "Hello."

He's quick to the chase, "Are you here for the secretary job?"

The lawyer's eyes scan yours, and you find yourself nodding; too afraid to speak further. His eyes then trail over your form, and you wonder if your work-from-home outfit was too casual. How would you have even known you'd have encountered this icy gentleman during your typical stroll?

Aizawa is grateful that the prettiest candidate will come in on his break. He could forgo lunch for you; he'd be fine having that sweet pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

"Hm. Resume?"

Your empty hands are glaringly obvious. Your purse hangs heavy and resumeless on your shoulder.

"I, I don't have–I didn't bring one, I mean."

"Did you see the ad in the paper?"

"No. I was walking and saw the lit-up sign."

"... I see," he drawls, still eyeing you before motioning to the seat in front of him.

Sinking into the cushion, you try to look presentable as you cross your feet–the rip of your stocking just barely visible from where he sits at his woodsy desk. He stares at you before asking.

"What talents do you have?"

"I'm a very hard worker," you pitch softly. "I won several typing awards in school."

He says nothing to that; maybe you've said or done the wrong thing. His hand rubs at the stubble on his chin, and your throat dries up at the various rings decorating his long, pale fingers. You would give anything to feel that scruff between your thighs, nails leaving indents as he plants kiss after kiss up your leg.

"It's very, very dull work. Perhaps too dull for you."

It's an opening. A job you can practically taste on the tip of your tongue.

"I don't mind," you add. "I'll do anything."

The terse stare you both share leaves you sweating. What were the chances: no resume, lack of secretary experience, and you wore ripped stockings. He licks his lips, eyes flickering up and down before nodding to the side.

"Please make me a coffee. Not too much sugar."

You're up in a heartbeat as you grab his half-empty cup. Suddenly, it's obvious you don't know anything about the building you're in as you head to the first door: "It's not that one."

The second one is a bust, and the third opens you up to his quaint office kitchen. Coffee was easy! Sure, you spilled a few coffee grounds and milk. Maybe you struggled with the machine as it brewed its ground beans. In the end, the mug sits hot and ready on his desk. You're ready for him to say it's perfect. That he'll reward you with a black coffee-tinged kiss.

"Too much sugar," he grimaces a bit. "Be here tomorrow at eight a.m."

You were in the parking lot by seven.

He never reveals too much to you. You still don't know so many basic things, even though you know how he likes his coffee, and you've seen how he does push-ups in his office when he's stressed. You see everything and nothing. It's agonizing.

The work is dull. You like it. It's typing letters, queries, and correspondence; it's all stuff Aizawa could be doing but chooses you to do. It makes you feel special in a sick way. You're stumbling from a bump in the carpet as you set a stack of papers on his desk. There is one problem, though.

"I alphabetized all the clients, sir," you say firmly.

"Thank you," he always says your name in that smooth drawl that leaves you drooling.

You're waiting. Waiting for those two words or even a glance up at you. He only sips his steaming coffee and peruses through the paper like you're not even there.

"Is there something you need?"

There was just one problem.

"No, sir," you say. "Sorry."

He never praised you. Aizawa hums, and you're turning on your heel. That took forever to do, and all he could say was, "Thank you." Was it wrong to ask for praise from your boss? The deep boom of his voice shakes you from your thoughts as he calls out after you.

You return like a dog, face alight and waiting. A stir in his gut has Aizawa hot at the back of his neck.

"That outfit… it's sloppy. You represent me. Your hair has flyaways, you leave crumbs everywhere, and you're messy."

Your boss stands and takes measured steps toward you. You're shrinking like prey under his gaze as he jabs at your faults.

"You make typos. You spill coffee grounds when you make my coffee." he's in front of you now, looking down and so close you can feel his breath. "You wear ripped stockings."

"I-I—"

"Don't say anything. Just look, and listen to me."

He is oh so pleased when you nod obediently. What a good girl.

"You represent me. You are the first person clients see when they come seeking my legal counsel. You could put in a little more effort, right?"

You're unsure of an answer. Silence or confirmation? Your knees knock together, "yes, I could."

There's a beat of silence. It seems so loud in the room.

"Good."

You wanted to sink to your knees then and there with an open mouth. An open throat. Aizawa sighs, seemingly relieved, as two big hands clasp onto your shoulders.

"Go home. Take the long way. Look at the sky and the trees and the stray cats. Pet one," he murmurs, and his fingers flick your chin. "Go and enjoy."

Just like that, he's edging away from you like he'd never gotten so close in the first place. Your heart stirs confusedly in your chest, battered from the pointed insults but feeling like they've freed you from any preconceived notions you had regarding your boss and you.

He thought you were good.

It was as if you'd never taken a walk before. Things were bright and so fruitful that there was a natural skip in your step as you brought yourself past the trees, the fountain made of marble with an angel sitting pretty and the people out and about. That joy carried you all the way home. You couldn't get how he looked at you out of his head as you flung yourself upon the bed.

You try practicing how you'd thank him, but it all comes out stilted. Unsure. Who was Mr. Aizawa? Did he like being thanked? You knew what you liked. Your hand brushes against the edge of your underwear as you recall how he'd murmured, "Good."

It just feels right to rub your clit and imagine your boss doing it for you with his hands coated in silvery rings. It'd be a mix of hot and cold as he rubbed at your pussy, "My, you're so wet for me. You really are so naughty."

Your hand twisted tight circles as you ground against your palm, face hot and panting into the sheets as you mewled for Aizawa. The syllables were foreign on your tongue, but you find yourself cumming with a cry of Shota!

After that, it was impossible to stay professional for very long.

Since those harsh criticisms, you'd started putting your all into the little things. New stockings on sale that highlight the smooth expanse of your leg while tucked into dainty kitten heels. You wiped up your mouth and counters after lunch and coffee. You were representing him.

Aizawa had noticed your preening. It was eerily similar to his cats. You would linger in front of him, waiting for a treat. He sighs, sinking into his chair, lids burning with the idea of you on your knees or bent over in front of him. He has to be careful when that familiar twinge of arousal wakes up more than just his mind. His hand comes to palm over the half-chub, but then your voice is filtering in over the phone.

"Sir? Miss Midnight is here," you murmur, and he grips himself over his slacks with a soft groan.

"Tell her I'm not here."

"I think she knows you're here," you say, eyes flickering between the phone and the woman herself, who flips through a magazine.

"Do not let her come back here. It's an order."

There's a click, and you're gone. You always listen so obediently. It was his favorite thing. Midnight's voice rings out from behind the grand wooden doors, your voice mixing into a beautiful tone of harshness and softness. He can hear how your chair scratches against the floor as you stand, guarding his office protectively.

"I know he's in there!"

"He is not," and you're puffing your chest out with a confidence that you're unsure of its origin. "You must come back another time."

Aizawa pants into the open air at your sweet little voice, trying to be commanding. He has to grip his base so he doesn't spill his load all over his black slacks. It grows quiet, and he knows the knock of your hands from memory.

"Come in."

You're hesitant, hands coming in front of you to fidget before you're forcing your hands by your sides. The pressure of Aizawa's presence has a hold over you that you can't shake. "She left. She said she'd be back tomorrow."

Lecherous eyes take in the loosening of his tie and how he relaxes instantly at the relief. He looks warm, if a bit debauched.

"I see," and he's staring at the ceiling before lazily trailing his eyes back down to your body. "Come here."

Soft feet pad even closer. You're not sure if you're even breathing.

"Thank you for listening. You are good at what you do.

"Thank you, sir."

He lets the stillness linger in the air, watching how you step even closer. You wanted a treat.

"Another thing. Where did you buy that skirt?"

"... At the department store."

His mouth flattens, and he hums, reaching into his wallet. " It's nice. Buy yourself something off the rack, not from the sale section."

Your face burns bright as he slides the cash over. This feels strangely good. You knew it was wrong, but you just couldn't help yourself. It was a substantial amount—too much for a boss to give to his secretary.

"Am I… allowed to take that?"

Aizawa smirks coolly, "I just gave you permission to."

The implication of his words leaves your legs crossing, much to your boss's amusement. He tells you to take the day off, and he's so soft this time. No harsh criticisms. All he wants to do is take care of you; the stack of money is comforting as a couple hundred sits heavy in your bag.

You buy a cute two-piece suit. It accentuates your curves nicely, and you can't help but wonder if Aizawa would feel the same. Adding a few accessories you don't think he'd mind, a gold choker glints at you, and you look around before shoving it to the bottom of your shopping bag.

He doesn't even comment on it. Of course, he doesn't. Your fingers click the keys with a bit more anger than normal. Who gives you money to buy an outfit and then doesn't even compliment you? Your boss, that's who. Fingers rip the written communication from the typewriter with a huff.

You're about to go to him, but he's coming to you first. Your breath stutters in your throat at how his eyes pierce you with every step. Aizawa stops and flicks the paper onto your desk with narrowed eyes, "can you tell me what this word says?"

"I-Indelible."

"And this one?"

He points to another word circled in red and your shy eyes are batting up at him, "rash…"

"So I didn't hire an illiterate typer, that's good. But then that means there must be a reasonable explanation for these glaring typos, hm?"

Aizawa's fist bangs on the table as you neglect to respond, "I–no, sir…"

He leans close till you can feel his breath on your lips. You're shaking and unsure if you want to burst into tears or kiss him on the mouth. And then he sees it, his eyes trailing down your body to see the familiar scratch of lines and ripped fabric on your calf. You'd hoped he hadn't noticed, but you can't help the twitch of your lips.

"Come to my office," Aizawa says shakily, voice intense and full of mirth.

You walk behind him to enter into his domain. Aizawa stares at you, breath labored as he swallows thickly. Neither of you are speaking, but it's clear how his presence dominates yours. It's effortless. It's easy for him.

"Put the paper on the table and your hands on either side."

Your hair sways as you put your hands on his grand office desk. The red marks stare back at you mockingly, your breath stuttering as you feel his presence behind you. He looms, and you can just barely feel how his hips align right behind yours. A deep, primal need wants to arch your back even more than it already is.

"Bend over more."

Was he serious? Your ass brushes against his crotch as you bend farther, with your pencil skirt rising higher. Your upper thigh is exposed to cool air, Aizawa's rough hands brushing against the soft skin. His thumb just barely brushes your panties, and you're biting back a whimper.

"Read it aloud."

Aizawa bites his lip as you do exactly what he says.

"Dear Mr. Toshinori," and you're cut off by a firm spank on your ass.

Your breath stops in your throat as you turn your head in disbelief. Aizawa says nothing, and does nothing, maintaining eye contact as he swats your plump butt again. It hurts and your eyes water. Something inside you tells you this is wrong, but it's overwhelmed by the wave of it feeling so right.

"Go on."

A sniffle escapes you, humiliation and pleasure mixing into a twisted thread of satisfaction, "the effort you've put into this case has been indelible–"

Another firm smack that leaves a gasping moan escaping you. You can hear his labored breaths mingle with your needy ones as he lays smack after smack against your aching bottom. Your whimpers come out more easily with each hit. Your eyes blur with tears that drip onto the crisp paper, blurring the letters you'd so carelessly put together. The red of Aizawa's pen seeps into the salty stain, and a cry escapes you.

"We don't want to be rash," another loud smack. "With all my love, Aizawa Shota…"

The two of you are panting, and Aizawa sighs as he presses the bulge in his slacks against the cleft of your sore bottom. He's so hard. You can't help how your hips grind against his, how the two of you play this forbidden song and dance of boundaries a second longer. He stills you with a fond voice.

"Very good," and you could cum with how he says your name. "I expect you to be better the next time around."

A strong hand smooths over the sore skin and fabric of your skirt. He takes care to readjust your clothes. His hands feel incredible with every soothing stroke. Your tears subside within no time, and you wish the moment would last forever.

He doesn't see how your eyes close in relief as a smile graces your lips, "I will, sir."

"Thank you."

You make no mistakes for the rest of the week. You might be the perfect secretary. Aizawa was beginning to reveal himself to you more and more; you were absolutely delighted. If he wanted to overwhelm you with himself, you weren't opposed to submitting to him entirely. You'd let him eat you if he wanted.

It's how your quaint, dull secretary job turns into a game of cat and mouse. Everything is predetermined by him. You crawl to his desk with the written communication tucked between your lips, sidling up next to him as he takes it with a "thank you."

Reveling in it is what keeps you going. It leaves you crawling, kneeling, and purring for "good girl," "thank you," "very nice," and "well done."

This time, you stand beside him like a shining knight while he reads over the newspaper. It's still early morning, only about an hour to your shift before he's straightening up and talking to you without looking at you.

"What do you eat for dinner, sweetheart?"

You can't help but smile every time you hear that tender nickname.

"U-Usually meat and potatoes and a vegetable."

"That's the daily menu?"

"Today I wanted to make mashed potatoes, peas, and meatloaf."

"Hmm," and then his steely eyes are turning and landing right on you.

It's as if a spotlight has shone down directly on you. You fidget on the spot immediately. Aizawa's lips quirked up as if he wanted to laugh, and you mirrored him back; you know he found your flightiness endearing. Cute, even. You'd heard him say so under his breath a few days back.

"I want you to have five peas. A scoop of mashed potatoes and no meatloaf."

You stay silent. He's not done. He smiles warmly, eyes scanning you appreciatively.

"And as much ice cream as you want."

"How did you know I like ice cream?"

He doesn't reply. He'd seen you out and about while he was waiting for his dry cleaning. You'd been happily chatting with friends, a giant cone of flavors on your right, while you gestured with the left. Aizawa hadn't wanted to interrupt you in your natural state. It was a shame, though, considering he couldn't shake your smile and your laugh from his head that entire day.

"I just know."

You make precisely five peas and a heaving bowl of mashed potatoes. The meal is done quickly, but you call him just before eating.

"A scoop of mash, five peas, and as much ice cream as I want."

Aizawa sits comfortably in his living room, wine glass in hand, "good girl."

It's a meal you savor. It's a wine he relishes. It's a simple delicacy, as if you share the meal together, knowing one is thinking about the other. Aizawa and you fall into this routine of codependency. You go where he goes. You eat from his hand and never bite. He offers you more and more. He lets you engorge yourself on him while he feasts himself upon you.

But, things grow different. He stops asking you to get on your knees, and you see him shutting the door behind you more and more. His face looked pained every time, as if he wasn't banishing you away to your secretarial desk. Why is he doing this? Why was he denying his sweetheart?

You listen to the audio of his lulling voice dictating you on what to type. You're not sure if you or the brat inside you insist on making typos, but you know it's the entirety of you that will be held responsible.

You smirked anyway as you delivered the paper to him with a flourish, "This one is finished."

He takes it silently and puts it in the envelope to be sent. You falter a bit and quizzically ask.

"Aren't you going to read it?"

"I'm really busy," he says your name so flatly you almost want to stomp your foot in protest.

Whatever. Quick feet turn, and you're heading off without a second thought. If he didn't want to read it, that was just fine! It wasn't as if you cared. You return to work, and your shift passes by slowly. Then, you hear the static and clearness of Aizawa's firm voice.

"Come to my office."

You're skipping with joy to the door, arms swinging at your sides before you compose yourself in front of the door. You open it, and he's immediately staring dead at you. His eyes are like a flame. Aizawa's voice shakes with restraint as he tells you to come close and bend over.

It's lewd how you drape yourself over his desk. Your hands are poised as you lay them flat against the desk, butt perked and wiggling ever so slightly. If you were a cat, your tail would swish, and maybe Aizawa would go easier on you.

But you're not a cat; Aizawa never goes easy on anyone. Not his clients, not the courtroom, and certainly not you. His rough nails scrape against the soft flesh of your bottom as he tugs your skirt up, and then your panties drop to the floor. You're bare and shaking in front of him, face dark and pressed into the wood you lay on. He gives no tells, your ears straining to hear something, anything.

Aizawa slowly unzips his slacks, and you're panting with neediness on your breath. You can feel how a strong hand easily shifts your hips to the side as if you weigh nothing; he's still silent as a hand grips the base of his cock, and he groans.

You wish so badly to turn and catch him in the act. He spits lewdly and tugs your skirt up higher till your ass is on full display. He grunts, and it's so slick listening to his palm hit his fat balls and work the tip over and over again. A whimper escapes you when he digs his palms into the fat of your ass and grips it for purchase. It feels so heady, and you're forced to listen as Aizawa fucks into his palm.

The wet noises echo, his hand speeding up as he groans your name. A confident thrum leaves you thrusting back, and the choked moan he lets out is downright delicious, "fuckk."

His breath becomes strangled as he works himself. Then, he's letting out a deep yelp, and you're coated in hot white strands of his cum. It soaks into your panties, and your hole clenches around nothing. He's still breathing shakily, his hand tracing the marks he left on you before pulling away entirely. You can smell his cologne when you turn knock-kneed before him.

"That'll be all," he mumbles with ragged pants.

You stare at yourself, awed, in the mirror. The streaks on your panties are visible as you slip a hand past your waistband and hold a hand to your mouth. You cum just like that, in Aizawa's company bathroom, with his cum on your ass.

He doesn't make an appearance for the rest of the shift. You want to knock and ask, "Are you okay?" But, you worry it'd just make things worse.

Meanwhile, Aizawa stares at his desk contemplatively. A letter sits mockingly as he stares at it. The white stain on his slacks mocks him. He keeps trying to rub it out, but it won't budge. This can't go on.

Dear Sweetheart,

This is disgusting. I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm like this.

He crumples it and tosses it off somewhere, sinking into his office chair with an arm draped over his eyes. This was pathetic. It was unseemly. He had to intervene before he got out of control. Aizawa tries to ignore the deep pain within his chest that winces at every thought of separating himself from you.

That was what he told you the next day, "we can't be doing this every day. It's… wrong."

"Why not?"

You're tearful and shaking. Aizawa's heart shatters so suddenly he has to look off to the side, eyes tracing the whistling trees outside the window.

"Why. Not?"

"Because we can't," he hisses in regret at even letting this conversation come to fruition regardless.

Your hands smack against your thighs as you stand and come closer. You never used to go into his bubble, and now you had no problem merging the two of you together, "I love you."

It was the genuine, honest truth. You loved how he told you how many peas to eat when he'd stroke your hair when he first called you sweetheart. You were sure you had started loving him then, some time or another, between the blending of professional boundaries.

"Don't be immature–"

"I'm not leaving.

He gets close, eyes narrowed as you stay rooted on his Persian rug.

"You're fired."

"No, I'm not," your tears spill over your cheeks in fat rivulets. "Don't do this."

Aizawa scoffs, grabbing his coat and huffing, "I'm going for a walk. Don't be here when I get back."

You stay rooted. You don't move an inch, only wiping your face and continuing to stare out his office window. This was the most heartbreak you'd ever felt. Aizawa was the first real man you had met, and he was tearing himself away from you. This job had never been dull from the second you saw him.

He's been gone for so long. Your legs ache, and you wonder if he went home, if he decided to leave you there through the night on trembling feet and shaky breaths. No. He wasn't like that. You'd wait.

The walk did nothing to soothe him. All he could feel was a pull towards you, like an anchor desperate to return home. Each step was heavy, and he turned around halfway to practically run back to the office. Were you still there?

You're still standing with your arms at your sides. You're not crying anymore, your face hard and focused. You're pretty upon his Persian rug, and Aizawa feels downright giddy. The giddy feeling is overshadowed by the thrum of darkness at the reality of the situation. He felt awful, wanting, and overwhelmed with emotions. He had so many emotions he almost couldn't stand it. Almost.

Aizawa sits outside the office door, head in hand. A thread born from sickness and loneliness was watered and tended by you, and he was so afraid.

The two of you stay rooted.

Only when the sun shines before noon the next day does Aizawa open the door. You're turning your head instantly with watery eyes and a grumbling stomach. You knew it, he hadn't left. He'd have never left you alone at this rate. You were his, and he was yours.

His footsteps are heavy as he draws closer until he's right before you. You look at him so softly. Your eyes are like dams threatening to give away if he didn't accept this watering, this tending. You'd worked so hard.

You collapse into his arms the minute he holds you, and he goes down with you, both of you sinking onto the floor in a loving heap. He doesn't even let your head touch the ground, only looking at you with fondness.

Aizawa kisses you, and it's like a cool drink of water. You're satiated yet hungry for more. Hungry for him.

"I'm going to take you home," he whispers tenderly, accompanied by a hand smoothing down the side of your waist before hooking under your knees.

He bridal carries you past the threshold of his office and building and towards his car. It's an intimate carry; you hold onto him with a soft smile.

His steps are measured as he takes you up the stairs of his home. Your eyes greedily latch onto every detail you pass by: the pictures daintily hung on the wall, the way a cat peeks in from the kitchen, the way the whole home is ornate and decorated. It's lived in, and you bring yourself closer to burying into Aizawa's neck.

The minute your back hits the bed, you're engaged in a passionate lip-lock that won't quit. It's not the rough dominance of Aizawa trying to eat you whole. It was the experience of two lovers finally able to blend as one.

He's gentle as he lays you back against plush silken sheets, immediately crawling and molding his body to yours with a hefty groan. His body weight is addicting. Your thumbs press against the divots in his back to try and bring him impossibly closer.

"Been wanting to kiss you since I saw you, pretty girl."

"Me too," your tongue laves over his bottom lip. "I only wanted you."

"I know. I see you."

He breathes into your neck before diving in to lick and suck at the supple skin. You can't help the squirming and the hot whimpers that escape you, the rough patches on your neck growing more abundant with every kiss of his lips and bite of his teeth.

"I want you," you confide, hands loosening his hair from the tight bun into loose strands that surround you. "I need you, Aizawa."

"Call me Shota." a burning hand trails down your hip to between your legs.

You're already mewling, trying to shut your legs despite Shota insisting with a "be good" to keep them open. His hand catches your thigh, and you shrink at his look that pins you to the covers.

"Be still," he says, and a finger drags up your puffy lips over your underwear.

The fabric catches on your clit, and you gasp; your hips tilting back and forth for moremoremore–

Shota tugs your panties to the side and spreads you open, his eyes greedy as they rake over every inch of your dripping cunny. You know you're making a mess all over his hand as you writhe and leak.

"Shota, ohfuckk. Don't stare," you barely manage to get out when his rough thumb circles your needy clit.

"I'll stare as much as I feel like, sweetheart. You're dripping for me, soaking my hand. 'S so cute."

You can't even find it in yourself to plead for him to stop. He sinks two fingers in you like it's nothing, an amused chuckle reverberating through his chest at the sight, "You play with your pussy a lot? She swallowed my fingers up like it was nothing. Is it gonna be the same when I stuff you full?"

"I'll take it, I-I can take your cock."

"Good girl. Saying exactly what I want to hear," and he's kissing you.

His hand leaves you, much to your chagrin, and you're left spread open wide in front of him as he rapidly undresses. His bulge is big, and you're almost a bit intimidated when his boxers reveal the shape of his thick cock leaking pre-cum. You wet your lips, and your knees go to touch before he pulls them open wider and settles on his haunches.

"Getting shy now?"

"No…"

"Then open your legs."

It's not a question but a command. You do as he says.

His underwear is pushed down to free his dick, the thick length bobbing and brushing against his happy trail. It's so lewd, and he looks so manly. His muscles are rippling, and he's so hard between your legs. Your hole clenches around nothing, and Shota runs the angry red tip through your folds.

"Ah! Don't tease me," you murmur, feet flexing with need.

His fat tip just barely presses against your hole, just barely pushing past your clenching pussy with a lazy grin, "I won't. Just lay back, honey."

Shota's voice is syrupy and smooth. His hands push your thighs farther than you thought they'd go as he sinks inch by inch into you.

"Oh, oh, Shota–you're so big."

"Poor pussy's squeezing me so tight," he grunts lowly. "You feel so good, sweetheart."

He plants a soft kiss against your ankle before shifting and bullying three inches of himself inside you. You cry out, eyes rolling back as he shallowly thrusts and works you open, breath heavy on his lips as he fucks his cock into you.

Your pussy's so sloppy, leaking and creaming around him before he's even balls deep inside you. Shota mounts you, and you're scrunched under him with a whimpering wail, "There we go. Nice and full, huh?"

"Y-Yeah! Ohgod, I-I can't–"

"Oh, fuuuuck."

He moves slowly and thrusts so deep you feel him in your stomach. It's sinful, the way his hips start to rock into yours, tip rubbing against your womb as you moan and moan.

"God, 'm so deep inside you. Fucking claiming this pussy, right? Just giving my girl what she needs, a nice, good pounding."

Shota's balls smack against your ass as he speeds up, sticky clit mashing against the coarse hair at his base as he rams himself into you again and again. You feel delirious as you get fucked further into the mattress. The two of you are one, creaming around his base as your nails scratch lines across his back.

"Rub your clit, baby. Make yourself feel good."

“‘M gonna cum, Shotaaa!”

"Hold it," he hisses, hips still pistoning in and out of you as he thrusts particularly hard. "Want you to rub yourself, sweetheart. You can do that for me, yeah?"

You're near tears as your hand shakily flits over your sore pussy, howling from pleasure as you circle it once, twice–" I-I can't, please, lemme cum!"

"Hmm," and you can feel how he throbs inside you.

Your walls suck him in impossibly deeper, and you can see the sweat dripping down his forehead as he heaves a breath. You squeeze again, and he glares at you darkly, eyes narrowed and stormy as he settles his hips on top of yours, heavy balls churning with the need to cum.

"Go ahead, since you wanna cum so bad."

"Sh-Shota!"

You're fucking squirting. Your juices make more of a mess, and it does it for him as he slams into you for a few more thrusts before hunkering down and sliding right against your womb. A few tears escape you as rope after rope of cum fills you to the brim, your eyes rolling back as he milks himself inside your sweet cunt.

"God, fuck," he shudders, hips twitching as he finishes breeding you.

Shota's eyes are closed as he holds you both in that position. If you weren't on birth control, you'd be in trouble as globs of cum spill out when he adjusts his grip on you. He pulls out slowly, watching the white fill and drip down your ass lewdly. He looks magical the way he bites his lip and spreads your open, hole clenching and letting out more of his release.

"You're so pretty."

Both of you are spent and exhausted. You can't find it in yourself to reply. Aizawa's muscles bulge when he pulls you closer into his body, a shiver coursing through you at a lazy finger trailing over your spine. Both of you are quiet for a while, the intense passion taking a load on you both.

You nearly fall asleep while he strokes you.

"Where are you originally from?"

It makes you pause before you answer your hometown, eyes pulling up to meet his soft ones.

"... Where did you go to school?"

"UA High School. Then, I went overseas for my law degree."

"Oh. I always wondered where you went."

"I always wondered where you were from," he whispers, noses your face, and plants a sweet kiss on your lips.

The two of you swap stories and questions just like that for hours. It means everything to you, and Shota wishes you could've done this sooner. Wishes he could've known this woman before.

"Do I still get to keep my job?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

-

You walk, arms spread out wide and attached to the spreader bar. You adorn yourself with a clean white blouse and a navy blue skirt—prim and proper. It's easy now, as you squat to grab a paper with your left hand and turn to your right to staple it.

It's easy, grabbing things with your teeth as you prance around, spread open as if on a cross for him. Your boss wanted you that way; he wanted you to be spread open and bare for him, fresh enough to eat.

You carry the tray with coffee in your right hand and the stack of papers in your left hand. As you approach the ajar office door, you can hear his voice, "Come in, and get on your knees."

The oak office door is kicked closed behind you without another word.

[rc-catalog]

It's that time again—our Creator of the Month event is back in full swing!

Our April Creator of the Month is @cursedbycain! 🎉 Please join us in giving a big round of applause to Aditi for her incredible creativity and contributions—this spotlight is so well deserved! 🌟 To help you get to know her better, we’ve put together a short interview where she shares a little bit about herself and her work ✨! Welcome to the COTM hall of fame, Aditi! We’re so excited to celebrate you this month and beyond! 🫶

💬 1) INTRODUCE YOURSELF! Tell us a little bit about who you are—not just your name, but what inspires you, what you love, and how you would describe yourself beyond your creations !!

🎤: I’m Aditi! I’m in my 20’s and I’m Indian Canadian! I am a chronic gym rat and probably the most annoying morning person you will ever meet. I love all things makeup/fashion/skincare and of course, Cain is basically the loml, despite being a blonde. My main inspiration is of course my loves Elle and Agatha (@kazu-naito and @agattthaa respectively). I make a lot of things either for them or because of them and I could probably talk about them forever so I’ll cut myself off here! There isn’t much else to know about me, pretty much all I do is gym, study, write, and clean. My friends like to refer to me as “insane” but i prefer “organized” so if that doesn’t sum it up, I’m not sure what will.

💬 2) WHEN AND HOW DID YOU FIRST DISCOVER ROMANCE CLUB? What drew you in, and what made you stay? Were there particular characters, stories, or moments that left a mark on you?

🎤: So my first interactive romance game was actually the Love Island game, and because of my interest in that subreddit, Reddit suggested the Romance Club sub! So I downloaded the app, started a story, instantly disliked the artstyle, and then forgot about it for a month! Then I tried it again and started with KFS for the Indian culture, fell absolutely HEAD over heels for Ram, and I was hooked! Funnily enough, I started playing during a diamond rush and thought the free diamond choices was some crazy glitch. But finding out that they have these events was so incredible that I couldn’t stop playing.

💬 3) HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN CREATING? Can be both RC related and in general! what first sparked your passion for it? Think back: when did you realize you wanted to create—whether it was writing, art, or something else?

🎤: In general—we’re coming up on probably 6 or 7 years? I have ALWAYS loved reading and when I discovered fanfic and how much I loved reading fics, I started to constantly come up with ideas and send them to people in asks (this has not changed) and eventually I would think—well instead of sending requests for other people to write things…why don’t I just write it myself? And then I did! I’ve been writing on and off since then, for various fandoms and people and I’ve always loved the outlet it gives me! For RC—I am quite new to the fandom in all honestly, I started playing right around the Feb update and I didn’t start making content until late March/beginning of April! I love participating in fandoms and this one is a bit smaller than I am used to, which meant not nearly enough fics to satisfy my insane urges, so I figured I would write some!! So technically I’ve been creating for a month but wow, it feels so much longer.

💬 4) DO YOU REMEMBER YOUR FIRST EVER CREATION? Again, can be RC related or in general! What was it, how did it feel to bring it to life, and looking back now, how do you feel about it?

🎤: I have a vague memory of my first fic, but it is so horrible that I’m gonna talk about my first RC creation instead! I started with a CainLane fic (who could’ve guessed) after yapping in Elle’s inbox about them for a month! I sent her an anon about the idea around the end of March, and then I wrote it! It was basically a fic about Lane being trapped in Baal’s domain and her small interactions with Cain! It was a random idea that came to me, and writing it was actually really satisfying! Characterizing Cain was slightly challenging since it was my first time writing him, and I hate writing things that are OOC, but after some satisfying workshopping, it turned out quite nicely! I hadn’t written fanfiction in about a year, and it shows in that fic, but honestly I still like the way it turned out!

💬 5) IS THERE A PIECE OF ADVICE YOU WOULD GIVE TO YOUR YOUNGER CREATIVE SELF? Or readers in general?

🎤: This is gonna sound so cheesy, but have fun!! I used to literally burn myself out trying to stick to scheduled fic postings and crazy challenges, and writing would almost feel like a chore? Don’t let that happen to you. Above all, creating should make YOU happy. Even if something gets no notes, if you’re proud of it and creating it made you feel good, it’s a win. Everytime my friends mention their “flops” (oh yeah I’m calling you out) I wanna shake them because it really does not matter! NEVER let that kind of stuff discourage you. Focus on creating things that fulfill YOU and not others, because as wonderful as external validation feels, internal validation is so much more important.

💬 6) CHOOSE 3-5 OF YOUR FAVOURITE WORKS AND RAMBLE AWAY! We want all the behind-the-scenes thoughts: What do these pieces mean to you? What inspired them? Were there any struggles you faced while creating them? What emotions or memories are tied to them now?

🎤: Giving me permission to yap is so dangerous of you guys, alright lets do this! In no particular order:

Haircut - Cain x Lane — This fic holds a very special place in my heart because domestic fics are my absolute favourite. I also consider this to be my first proper CainLane fic since it’s in third person and more in character. Like many of my fics, it was inspired by something Elle said about how hilariously well groomed they are in HSR. It was such a funny idea, giving an immortal angel a haircut in the middle of a literal apocalypse that I just really wanted to bring it to life! Sometimes I find it hard to characterize Lane in relaxed moments like this, since the poor girl is always so stressed but it fell into place quite well! I also LOVE to incorporate found family moments of the squad into my fic and I pictured the ending of this one a lot. This fic is still so comforting to me and I honestly love it.

Rooftop - Cain x Lane — You know, you might as well call this interview an ode to Elle with the way she’s inspired all of my stuff. Once again, this is all her doing. I was halfway through my treadmill routine when I checked tumblr and saw her message and damn near fell off. No good morning message, just “lol, imagine lane finds cain crying alone and he immediately puts the mask back on when he notices”. There was nothing funny about this, I cannot believe she started this with lol. Anyways, I had already been left wanting by the rooftop scene in the update (seriously, we couldn’t get a kiss or something?), so I figured I would, in fact, write the loml crying because well, everyone needs a good cry. This was my first time writing Cain being vulnerable, and it took some workshopping. He’s such a guarded character, and crying felt almost OOC for him, so I wanted to make it feel right, which I think I managed! This one really does mean a lot to me. I really enjoy writing vulnerable moments like this, especially with Cain. As Agatha likes to say, he’s just a doll Elle likes to poke and I have joined her in said poking.

Eternity - Cain x Lane — Okay this is just embarrassing now uh this is ALSO inspired by Elle. She told me to make him cry again and I said “well, give me a reason” and she did, and I wrote it in less than two days. So this is probably the best fic I’ve ever written. I wanted to extend the scene where Cain visits her in s2 and sleeps on her lap, and just flesh it out. Elle, of course, brought up Lane’s mortality and how Cain would think about that and his feelings about it. Of course, the thought of this made me cry, and then I wrote him crying. I’ve never written a fic this descriptive and like flowery. It made me really nervous, but I loved the way it turned out. I probably edited it over 10 times to get all the metaphors and feelings of pain in there. Cain is a really complex character, which is part of the reason I love writing him, but it also means I am always doubting my characterization of him. With some lovely help from Agatha, I managed to work out his crying in a rather beautiful way, if I do say so myself. I honestly find myself rereading this fic whenever I’m particularly in a sad mood and just want to wallow a bit. The ending always makes me feel better though, and I always come back to it.

Unlocked - Yan x Lane — This is probably one of the fics I reread the most. I may be a dmitryan truther but don’t get me wrong…Dmitry can’t handle all that and I can! I honestly just love Yan, I think he’s such a sweet character and I just really wanted to expand on this small moment we got in the update. In a book like HSR I am always cravingggg these happy moments so this was a very self indulgent fic. The premise of this one was very random tbh, I kinda just let it come to me as I was writing. Normally I have a vague plot when I start a fic but with this one I was just like, well he’ll get in there and figure it out. I wanted there to be some smut but it didn’t feel right in the context of the scene. I was also very nervous writing this one because there are no YanLane fics on here, so I was really going in blind. Normally, I like to read a few fics to see how other people characterize who I’m writing about before I do my take. I was honestly surprised this did well, I didn’t realize YanLane was popular at all. But more importantly, I really like it! It’s a very comforting soft fic for me to reread.

Hate me harder - Cassiel x Audrey (18+) — Okay a wonderful change of pace here, this one was for Agatha not Elle! She tolerates so much CainLane from the both of us that I had to write this for her. She made a post about how Cassiel and Audrey should have slept together in season 1, and I was just very inspired by it? I think that’s my favourite thing about writing, if I want something to happen, I can just write it happening. The scene in the hallway where he tells her, “I’m gonna lock you in a closet” was genuinely so funny to me. They have such good chemistry in that first season, I love a good enemies to lovers moment. I hadn’t written full smut in a long time so I actually had to go back and consult some of my old smut fics and jog my memory a bit! But the banter during the sex was actually really easy to write, I really enjoyed that part of it. I don’t reread this one as often but I do really like it. I hope to write more for them but their dynamic doesn’t come to me as easily as CainLane and YanLane, which is probably because I’ve played HSR almost ten times now. But ABH is definitely a banger for me so I’m excited to see the ending and write some more Audriel.

🌟 Thank you so much for joining us, Aditi, and for sharing your incredible creativity with us! Your work has truly enriched the RC fandom, and we’re so grateful for everything you’ve contributed. Keep creating, inspiring, and making this community even more amazing! And a huge thank you to you, the reader!! You help us keep the catalog going strong. We appreciate you being a part of this amazing journey! 💛

[cavalierfou]

FLOWERS, TRANSPARENT PNG PACK – (free resource)

In this pack you’ll find 18 transparent pngs representing vintage illustrations of various flowers.

This resource was made using images that are free of use and/or in the public domain. You are free to use and transform them as you wish !

You do not have to credit me while using this resource, but please consider liking or reblogging this post.

FREE DOWNLOAD : DEVIANTART or PATREON

+ KO-FI, donations are optional! Please do not feel any pressure to sub or donate, I just hope you enjoy the resources I post ♡

[ghost-1-y]

Worship

Human!Giyuu x AFAB!Naiad!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, sub!Giyuu, dom!reader, penetrative sex (f! receiving), unprotected sex, oral sex (f! receiving), face-sitting (f! receiving), pegging (not strap-on, Giyuu gets fucked with a dildo though), body worship, having sex underwater, virginity loss (Giyuu is a virgin), creamp!e, praise k!nk, worship k!nk, temperature play (ice), slight degradation from reader, reader refers to Giyuu as “pet” a few times, please lmk if I missed anything!!

Summary: As a water nymph, you never saw the world from beyond the spring you were born from, having only seen humans come to your spring bearing gifts and performing rituals for the sake of worship. However, one day, a beautiful human male stumbled his way into the domain of your sacred spring, and with neither offering nor sacrifice to give you, he thought of another way in which he could pay you worship.

Word Count: ~3.6k

Divider Credit: @/benkeibear

A/N: this was inspired from the story of Hylas and the Water Nymphs, a Greek mythology story where Hylas, a young male, goes to get water from a spring but is kidnapped by the Naiads because of how beautiful he was, it’s a short but interesting read!

Beauty was beheld by those who wished to seek it.

It would be bestowed upon in many different forms, through life, through fertility, and through healing.

Oftentimes, those who sought such beauty would do so through sacrifice – and would give thanks through continued worship of those who so graciously imparted such virtues upon the needy.

As the sun would rise, your eyes bore witness to such worship, as humans from the nearby village would arrive – men, women and children all wishing for their lives to be filled with beauty unknown. Some would ask for it on behalf of others, a sick family member perhaps – or possibly for the good of their village, praying for the blessing of a good harvest with the changing of seasons; others would ask for their own sake, for personal gain and fulfillment. And you were willing to provide them with what they desired, so long as they gave appreciation and thanks in return.

When dawn broke over the horizon, a line of villagers would emerge from the woods, the men carrying the corpses of swine or lambs for the sake of sacrifice. You would peer at them from within your quiet spring, eyes just above the surface of the water as they’d form a circle and remove the bones from the animal and offer them at the edge of the spring. 

Smiling, you’d emerge from the water and would take the bones into your possession, admiring the beauty in the humans’ effort to worship you. As you stood collecting the bones, some of the children would come by and offer locks of their hair to you – curious and excited to see such a pretty being emerge from the spring. You’d take their offerings and gently pat them on the head, before using water to create doll-like figures made out of ice as the children stared in awe at your power. Giggling, they’d take the shaped ice into their soft hands and run back to their mothers, showing them what the “beautiful water fairy” gifted them before it slowly melted away in their hold.

The villagers would cook and feast upon the meat that was not sacrificed until the sun rose higher into the sky, chatting amongst themselves, happiness evident in their eyes as they’d return to the village to find their crops thriving and their sick healing.

It was good.

It was beautiful.

And so you’d return to your spring, with water as calm as night and falls as enchanting as the morning mist, cascading into the place that inhabited your very soul. You submerged into its depths, ripples causing floating lily pads to drift away from you before swimming behind the falls, your home behind its veiled entrance.

Each week, the same ritual would take place – the villagers would change over the years, some growing old and some with newer faces. You’d always laugh at those who’d blush and refuse to make eye contact with you due to your lack of clothing – something unnecessary for a water nymph such as yourself – but the unmistakable happiness remained constant throughout their years of worshiping you.

However, on a day in which the villagers would usually not come to your spring with plans of worship, you heard the trudge of footsteps from outside of your home. Curious, as it sounded like a single human had come to your spring rather than a group, you’d wondered if there had been some sort of emergency that required your help.

Perhaps the human was in need of healing? Or caring for someone who was dying? So you emerged from behind the waterfall, only to find a young man – no older than his early twenties you’d assumed, as you’d learned of the average human lifespan from blessing generations upon generations of villagers over the years. His raven locks splayed past his shoulders and fell down his back and chest – which was completely bare down until his waist, where the only cloth he wore seemed to be his woolen chiton which had fallen off of his wide shoulders and pooled past his hips, revealing a physique that would invoke the envy of Heracles himself. 

He crouched down at your spring, filling his hydria with the sacred water of your home.

“May I ask why you fill your cup with the water of this spring?” you asked, looking at him with curiosity. Startled, he stood up, spilling the water that he had collected in the process.

“This water is not meant for your consumption, love. I must ask that you refrain from drinking it at all,” you continued, a soft smile gracing your features.

“Who are you?” the man asked.

How rude, you thought, taking from your home and not knowing who you were.

“I am the spirit which inhabits this spring, dear human. May I ask what you are doing alone and so far from your village? I’m afraid I have not seen your face before.” You walked along the water’s surface, ripples emanating from your footsteps as you closed the distance between you and the stranger. This man, however, did not seem to like that idea – pulling out a xiphos blade from the scabbard hooked to his waist belt to point it towards you in warning.

“Do not come near,” he demanded, a certain venom lacing his tongue, although a faint blush seemed to grace his cheeks as it took everything within him to not look below your shoulders.

“Such weapons are useless against me, love – I’d have hoped that your kind would be smarter than to show hostility to a being like myself,” you sighed, continuing to draw near. “I assume you did not come for the sake of worship, then, given your confusion?” 

He glared, yet said nothing, instead deciding to sheath his blade – expression nearly unreadable as you tentatively approached him. 

“Why would I waste my time by spending it on worship? I’m collecting water for my group.”

“So there are more of you? I don’t sense them, could they have left you behind?” You looked over his shoulder before gazing at him again. His eyes narrow, his jaw clenching before looking back over his shoulder, searching for someone who wasn’t there.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m thirsty, so I’ll be taking this water with me,” he resolved, holding his hydria close to his naked chest.

“Is that so?” you smirked, a playful look in your eyes, “and yet you have not brought anything for me in return? Not a single offering nor any sacrifice…” You drew close enough to touch him, before a sudden voice rang from the forest.

“Giyuu–!?” the voice called out, and the raven-haired stranger turned his head quickly, seemingly responding to the name. While distracted, you grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the depths of the water, your grip strong enough to persist in holding him close despite his thrashing movements, trying to escape from you and the spring. You exchanged your grip on his arm for holding his jaw, colliding your soft lips with his and exhaling into his mouth. He gasped and parted from you, staring at you in bewilderment as he found himself able to breathe despite being completely submerged under the surface. 

“Is Giyuu your name?” you ask, and he nodded quietly.

“I can’t have you take from me without giving anything in return, Giyuu,” you paused, “if you offer me something, I will allow you to return to your group, does that sound fair?”

“What would I offer? I don’t have anything of value,” he admitted.

“Well, unless you wish for your voice to become a mere echo that haunts this spring, I suggest that you think of something, love,” you folded your arms, looking at him expectantly. “I am a gracious spirit to those who treat me well, but I am also selfish should I not receive any thanks for my good works.”

Giyuu thought deeply, trying to think of something – anything – he could possibly give you to save his life. His mind raced, and his heart started to beat faster out of sheer panic.

But then, he thought back to your kiss – how your lips were soft against his own, and how it lit something deep within him that he wished to feel yet again. His eyes were downcast, unable to meet your own as a blush spread from his cheeks to the tip of his ears.

“I– I could give you–” he swallowed, “my virginity.”

Your eyes widened, having never received such an offer from a human before. You couldn’t lie, the man before you was beautiful, but you also knew that this was a rather unconventional way for one to worship a spirit such as yourself.

“Are you sure?” you asked, wanting to make sure he was fine with it, “you could gift me something else, it could be something small even – like your hydria or even the clothes on your person–”

“No. I’ve made my decision,” he paused, “you wanted someone to worship you, right?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Then let me worship you.”

Despite his words, he seemed very unsure of himself as he reached out for your hand, holding it up to his mouth before kissing along your palm. Your eyes softened, his actions nearly melting your heart. You moved your hand to his cheek, tracing your thumb along it as you initiated a kiss with him once more. This time, rather than doing so to prevent his drowning, you savored the taste of his lips upon yours, enjoying the roughened texture of them as they caressed your lips. His movements were hesitant, but the groan that bubbled from his throat told a very different story.

“Is– is this okay?” he asked once parted from your lips, and you smiled at him.

“It’s more than okay, Giyuu, you’re doing perfectly,” you reassured him, causing the faintest blush to appear on his cheeks.

“Okay.”

He kissed you once more, his hands hesitant before placing them gently on your bare hips. You could feel his pulse beating rapidly against your skin, slowly guiding his hands further down towards your ass. His breath caught in his throat before looking at you, eyes nervous and unsure until you kissed him once more, encouraging him to grope and feel how soft and pliable you were in his hands. A hum emitted from your throat, and he smiled into the kiss, feeling slightly more confident in his actions as he held you close to him.

He moved to your jaw, kissing along it before slowly licking a stripe down your neck, the slight saltiness evident against the freshwater you both were submerged in. His kisses were delicate – soft despite the chapness of his lips as he kissed along your collarbone. He moved his hands from your ass, making them travel upwards and around towards your breasts, holding them gently.

“Squeeze them,” you commanded softly, and he obliged, groping them like he did your ass – but it wasn’t enough. You took his hands in yours, taking them off your breasts.

“Did I do something wrong?” he looked worried, and you shook your head.

“No, love, I just want to show you how I like it, okay?” you reassured him, before taking your own breasts in your hands, pinching your nipples and rolling them between your fingers, moaning softly as you played with your tits. Giyuu watched eagerly, taking in every movement you made as you pleasured yourself. You looked back at him before taking his hands and placing them once more on your breasts, and he copied your movements, yet it somehow felt better than when you did it, his roughened hands playing with your breasts – a delicious contrast against your soft skin. Eventually, he lowered himself so he could latch his mouth to one of your tits, sucking gently as his eyes fluttered shut in contentment, his cock beginning to strain against the cloth that hung from his waist.

“Mmh– such a good boy, Giyuu, doing such a good job for me,” you praised, causing him to groan against your nipple, sending vibrations through it as he felt his cock throb at your words. Your hand rose to cradle the back of his head as he sucked at your tits, alternating between the two when he felt as though he wasn’t giving enough attention to one compared to the other.

Eventually, he started to kiss down your stomach, descending towards your heat until he stood on the floor of the spring, with you floating in the water above him. Your fingers found purchase in his hair as he gave a shy lick to your swollen clit, causing your hands to tighten around his dark locks. His eyes looked up to you in approval, peering through his pretty lashes at you as you brushed your fingers through his hair, smiling down at him. His pupils dilated, and he pressed the tip of his nose to your clit as he began licking around your sopping hole, not tearing his eyes away from you while sloppily eating your hot cunt. His tongue was flattened against your slit as he licked a wide stripe up it, before licking at your clit, running circles around it teasingly. 

Suddenly, an idea came to his mind, causing him to temporarily part from your cunt before sitting down on the sand below him. You lowered yourself down to the floor as well, wondering what he had in mind, before you saw him lay fully on his back.

“Please, will you… sit on my face?” he asked innocently, his eyes peering up at you in such an obedient manner. You smiled at him, and did as he asked. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, pushing you down so your full weight was on him. His tongue delved into your hole, shallowly thrusting in and out of it, causing you to bring a hand up to your mouth, muffling your moans. 

“Wanna hear you, please,” he begged from between your thighs, and reached to bring your arm down and away from your mouth, causing you to moan unabashedly as you ground your hips into his face. 

He continued to slurp up your sweet juices, nose nudging at your clit as he fucked his tongue into you, collecting anything and everything you’d give him, groaning hungrily with each taste. 

“Fuck– I– shit, you’re gonna make me cum,” you moaned, grinding down faster as he continued his ministrations, a tension building up deep in your gut as he licked at your needy pussy, until finally the tension snapped, causing heat and pleasure to course through your blood as you screamed his name.

“Giyuu—! Fuck, so good– so good f’ me,” you whined, and he moaned into your cunt, sending vibrations into it as you rode out your high, roughly grabbing at his hair, causing him to let out a small whine.

“Shit, such a good boy for me, aren’t you?” you asked, and he nodded quietly.

“Say it.” 

“Mmh.. ‘m– ‘m a good boy f’ you,” he whimpered, “love worshiping y-yo– oh!” 

You reached under his cloth and started stroking his cock. You were slightly surprised by its length, giving long strokes along his shaft before collecting the precum that had leaked from his tip. 

“So sensitive, aren’t you? Have you never touched yourself before, Giyuu?” you asked, and he whined pathetically, shaking his head, “so cute, ‘s a shame no one has ever touched this cock before– not even yourself. It’s okay though, baby, ‘m here now to take care of that.” 

He moaned softly as you kept stroking his dick, pulling it out from the cloth that hid it. You pushed the cloth he was wearing down his legs and off of his body. Once he was completely bare, you moved on top of him, your pussy hovering just above his cock.

“I’m going to ask you one more time: are you sure you want this, Giyuu?” you asked.

“Yes, please,” he whimpered.

You sank down on his cock, feeling it throb inside of you, veins pulsing as you took him deeper and deeper inside, moaning as your hips were finally flush against his. You reached behind your back, cupping his balls in your hand before starting to bounce up and down on him. His eyes shut, brows furrowing as he tried to take in how good it felt for your cunt to be wrapped around him. 

“Wait– wait s-slow down, I won’t last long–” he protested, but that only encouraged you to move faster.

“N-no, please, ‘m gonna– ‘m gonna–!” his voice was cut off by a low groan as he spilled himself deep inside of your pussy, his cum hot as it exploded in ropes against your pulsing walls as your second orgasm came crashing down around you, grinding yourself into his hips as you both tilted your heads back in ecstasy.

“Such a good boy, maybe I’ll keep you as a pet– you’d like that, wouldn’t you? To have no worries at all except to look pretty and please me?” you asked him, and he whined a small yes in response.

“I knew it – good pets deserve rewards, don’t you think, baby?”

He nodded, whining at how overstimulated he felt from your pussy clenching around him. You slid off of his cock and stood up, before holding your hand out, palm facing up towards the surface. Ice fractals began to swirl around your palm, forming an object Giyuu couldn’t quite make out until you held it out in front of him, causing his eyes to widen and his cheeks to flush in embarrassment.

“Do you want me to fuck you, pet?” you asked softly, holding up the ice dildo that you created, “I promise I’ll be gentle with you.”

He swallowed thickly, but he was intrigued, so he nodded, “yes, please,” his voice small and soft as he spoke.

“Turn around for me then.”

Giyuu sat up and turned his back to you before getting onto his hands and knees, his ass on complete display for you. You caressed one of his cheeks before giving it a light slap, causing him to whimper softly. You knelt behind him, at first inserting a finger into his hole, causing him to tense at the sensation.

“Relax, pet, you’re doing such a good job for me,” you cooed, and he did his best to relax his muscles, softly whining as you moved your finger in and out of him, caressing his walls before slowly working in a second finger and prodding them deeper into his hole.

He was trembling, arching his back as you thrust your fingers in once more before removing them completely, making him whine at the feeling of emptiness inside of him. His whining was cut short, however, as you pressed the ice cold dick against his ass, causing him to shudder due to its temperature. You leaned over him, and brought your face close to his ear.

“Are you ready, baby boy?”

“Yes,” he moaned, gasping as you inserted the toy inside of him, the coldness of it making it difficult for him to relax as you slowly began moving it, having the toy press against his prostate with every single thrust. You reached around his torso to stroke his cock as you fucked him, and the combined stimulation caused a familiar buildup to bubble up in his gut.

“Nngh– so, so good,” he moaned, slowly losing himself as he began fucking himself back on the toy, meeting each of your thrusts while simultaneously fucking his cock into your fist.

“Such a good little slut for me, you love this don’t you? You love being my pretty little whore, huh?” you smirked.

“Yes, yes– love it,” he moaned, the tension nearly at its breaking point as he continued to fuck himself with your help. “Gonna– gonna cum again, please let me cum,” he begged.

“Of course, baby. Cum for me.”

His legs shook as he arched his back further, head tilting up as his eyes rolled back into his head, moaning as his cum spurted out from his cock. He gasped, panting as he fucked himself slowly into your hand to prolong his orgasm, cheeks red and hot as he finally came down from his high. You removed the dildo from his ass and converted it back into liquid before pulling him into your arms, allowing him to collapse into you from pure exhaustion.

“You did so well for me, baby,” you praised, and he gave you a small smile as he closed his eyes, head resting against your chest.

After a while, you swam him back up to the surface of the water, allowing him to swim and crawl back onto the land surrounding your sacred spring.

“You may always return if you wish, I’d never be opposed to receiving more worship from you,” you teased, and his blush was hot as he frantically tried to pull on his wet clothing, grimacing at the slight discomfort it brought him.

You smiled and, with a wave of your hand, you evaporated the water that soaked both him and his cloth. He sent you a thankful look before pulling it onto his body.

“I believe you should go find your group, pet, they may think you’re dead since you’ve been gone for so long,” you smiled at him.

Nodding, he muttered a quick, “thanks,” before collecting his xiphos blade and hydria and walking off into the forest once more.

It was only by the time he reached his group's encampment that he realized that the hydria he was supposed to fill up was completely empty.

He may need to go back to the spring once more – just to collect the water this time, of course.

Taglist: @oreo-creampie, @k-a-t-h-r-i-n-a, @wow-im-gay, @peanutpunchy, @love-me-satoru, @crazycatlddy, @dinosaur-crime-scene, @thisbicc, @gojoscumslut, @everyonesfinaldestination, @leehoonii-i, @whateverfontmindmenere, @kyojurismo, @briefrebelfanalmond, @izuoyarmin, @ahashiraswife, @d1gitalbathh, @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701

If your name is crossed out, it means tumblr didn't allow me to tag you - apologies for the inconvenience.

I hope you enjoyed!!

[dewdropdinosaur]

Kinktober Day 14: Collaring

Summary: Alastor had carved out a nice little undead life for himself.  Drawn by the intoxicating allure of power and freedom from the mundane, he had willingly sold his soul to you, believing it would grant him unimaginable strength. And that comes back to bite him, like you always do. Warnings: Collaring, pet names, dom-sub dynamics, slight dub-con implications, use of magic as restraints, etc. MDNI, 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @tarokitsu

It was true, Alastor had carved a nice undead life for himself. Once a mere mortal with dreams of violent grandeur, he had stumbled face first into the fiery pits of Hell. Damn his way of death but then again so was life, or so the joke went. Roaming around aimlessly with no where to go, his undead life was truly in the hands of fate. The source of his power a mystery to all but you, the powerful overlord of chaos. Drawn by the intoxicating allure of power and freedom from the mundane, he had willingly sold his soul to you, believing it would grant him unimaginable strength. It did, for the most part. Years had passed since Alastor’s hand had wrapped in your glowing red ones, and he thrived in the chaotic realm, his reputation growing. He reveled in mischief, manipulating the very fabric of Hell, yet the memory of his pact lingered in the back of his mind like an unwelcome guest. You would often visit every couple months or so, caressing the edges of him mind with a gentle reminder of his pledges to you. 

Alastor, you will be an obidient and loyal servant till his undead live end and in return, I shall grant you power not even the King of Hell himself can comprehend. 

And so the years went on. Amid a chaotic feast of souls, Alastor was plotting his next broadcast without a care in the world. The dimming light of the Hellish day was coming to an end and so were the daily activities of the Radio Demon. A perfect time to stir the pot. Your form appeared in a swirling mass of shadows and light, eyes glinting like red supernovas in a void. Soon, Alastor’s evening revelry faded, and a palpable tension filled the air as you surveyed your domain.

“Alastor,” you called, voice a melody that both thrilled and haunted him. “It’s time to fulfill your end of our agreement.”

He straightened, a confident grin plastered on his face, masking the dread bubbling beneath. “Of course, my lady! I’ve been quite busy, you know. So many souls, so little time.”

Your gaze sharpened, and he felt the weight of your intent. “You think your tricks and games can postpone your payment? I need more than your fleeting soul capturing.” The atmosphere shifted as you advanced, a whirlwind of chaotic energy swirling around you. 

Alastor’s bravado faltered. “Payment? Surely, I’ve given enough in my service!”

In an instant, you summoned a red collar with a snap of your wrist, shimmering with dark energy. It coiled like a serpent in your grasp, a symbol of submission and power intertwined. You tsked softly, a small smirked coming to form maliciously on your features. “We play this game every time my dear. Every. Single. Time. Don’t you get bored of the disodience?”

Alastor’s heart raced. He had danced on the edge of fear and arousal, and was soon finding himself falling off the deep end of the latter. “Y/N, please—”

 “This is your due. A token of your servitude. You will wear it willingly, or I will make you.”

Before Alastor could finish a strangled plea, you moved with a speed that left him breathless, the collar snapping around his neck. The moment it closed, a surge of power coursed through him, forcing him to his knees. The chain linked to the collar glinted ominously, tethering him to you will. You admired the way he looked beneath you, so beligerant. He always was in the beginning but after years of this little game, you knew just how to make him keel. How to beg and plead to have any modicum of friction, how his eyes would tear up in ecasty as you made him find a demeanted form of heavenly release time after time. You revelved in that sight, in the luxury of seeing such a man as him bend and break under your will and cry for more. 

“Look at you,” you purred, the thrill of dominance evident in you voice. “You were so eager for power, yet now you kneel, bound by the very thing you sought to control.”

Alastor swallowed hard, a mix of attraction and acceptance swirling within him. He had gambled with his soul, and now he faced the oh-so delicious consequences. 

With that, you tugged the chain, pulling him closer. Alastor felt his pride start to wither away, yet he couldn’t ignore the strange thrill coursing through him. His ears laid flush against his head, clawed hands coming to grip the floorboards beneath him. He loved when you tugged on his chain, the pain shot through him in a sick sense of sadistic pleasure that never failed to make him hard. Craning your head down, eyes now level with his, you stood over him with a shit-eating grin and a imposing figure. 

“Now my pet, shall we play?” 

He couldn’t resist when your lips crashed onto his, sealing his eternal damnation to you and you alone. 

[videnrambles]

Kinda obsessed with time travel(fix it) stories rn so heres a list of time travel(fix it) stories I want to see: (if yall got any recs similar to these, slide that shit)

(Pre-Shibuya) Yuuji and Mei Mei get temporarily sent back into their old 2005 bodies. Everyone thinks Yuji is her cute younger brother or smth. Main idea: I want Mei Mei to use cute baby Yuji to siphon money from Gojo.

Crack fic where Todo gets sent back and realizes he and Yuji didn't go to middle school together. Or maybe they did go to school together and Yuji had his memories altered when Todo became a sorcerer.

Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi get stuck in a time loop (starts the day after they pick up Nobara, ends if they die or slightly after Shibuya) and at some point they just stop taking anything seriously. They just start fucking around. Gojo isn't sure how these students who met less than a day ago are so close but he's here for it. (I'm so making a longer post about this one)

The first year trio, post Sukuna, gets sent back to their 2007 bodies making them all 4-5 years old. They keep the same strength from their older selves but now they are just smaller. The story follows them as they reunite and do their best to find Kenjaku. Sub plot of Gojo looking everywhere for Megumi after receiving a note that just said "be back in a few weeks gotta link up with some friends and get revenge." (fuckkkk i might make a longer story for this one too)

Just literally anything where all of the trio get sent back together into their old bodies and are insanely op. Please I love them.

Post war Yuji getting sent back into Sukuna's domain from the night he had his heart ripped out. He still accepts Sukuna's offer to duel for the revival, beats the shit out of him, and then revives himself. Typical time travel fix it shenanigans follow.

Crack fic where Tsukamoto get's sent back and it's up to them to save their movie buddy. Idk i just think it would be funny for tsukamoto to become op and beat the shit out of Mahito

[ominous-faechild]

FAERIE'S DAWN (f5-2)

CHAPTER 5: CALM AFTER THE STORM (part 2)

CHARACTERS:

⚜ Scamall O'Moyner (pov) ⚜ Spéir O'Moyner ⚜ Dhia “Nova” ???

SETTING:

[a wild, overgrown forest plane] [in the midst of talamhdé] [in a clearing within the forest] [night; clear]

approx. 1 BA (talamhdé timeline)

story intro table of contents chapter one < last part next part >

[Soon enough, Spéir had finished setting up camp. Their single tent sat not far from the campfire; a clear tarp stretched above them to shelter both from any sudden storms; and Nova—who Spéir had helped physically carry on Scamall's behalf, since they'd fought magic being used on them—laid against one of its wooden poles, having slowly consumed half-melted ambrosia in their slumber.]

Scamall: [huddled up in a bundle of blankets, sitting half-beneath the lip of the tent and in front of the fire]

Spéir: [sitting across from her on the other side of the fire. Has a leg propped up against the ground and an arm against its knee, with his back against one of the trees that'd shifted its way into their camp]

[Things in Talamhdé often moved as though they had a mind of their own… but, more often than not, it was Talamhdé Itself that had the mind, not them. And the tree seemed to be little different, so Spéir chose to get comfortable with it.]

Spéir: [staring into the distance, his face half-turned away from her and a subtle tension underlying his expression]

Scamall: [uneasy, but…] 😅

Scamall: [tiredly stares down at the half-finished ambrosia-and-herb tea Spéir had made for her]

Spéir: [had insisted she should have some now, since he'd had a whole square to himself earlier]

Spéir: [as the silence stretches between them, finally speaks up to say) "Scamall."

Scamall: [shakes herself awake, quickly looking up at him]

Spéir: [offers a weak—but obviously forced—smile, then adds uneasily) "about earlier…"

Scamall:

Scamall: [lifts her cup to her lips to silently sip at it. Watches Spéir, knowing he'll continue on his own]

Spéir: [glances away from her for a moment, but quickly looks back as he finishes) "… when Talamhdé fell apart on us. What did you think of that?"

Scamall: [blink]

Scamall: [frowns, ears drooping and eyebrows furrowing as she watches him uneasily]

Scamall: [lets her arms—and the tea—fall back onto her lap. Uncertainly, because everything about the situation had been obvious) "… what do you mean?"

Spéir: [sighs heavily, moving his arm to put his face in his hand]

Spéir: [but peers through his dark, starry fingers as he answers cautiously) "… why do you think it did that."

Scamall:

Scamall: [holding her breath without meaning to, absentmindedly looks to Nova's sleeping form]

Nova: [has slowly dropped from the wooden pole to be laying across the ground, where wild grasses and flowers sprouted around their body. Snoring softly and hugging themself again, but sleeping much more soundly than before]

Scamall: (voice sounding distant even to herself) "… you remember Moyner—"

Spéir: [winces]

Scamall: "—better than I."

Scamall: [eyebrows furrowing slightly, turns a gentle, worried look onto Spéir]

Spéir: [turned away from her, face twisted and eartips drooping into his shoulders]

Scamall: (gently) "… so I don't know why you'd ask. That was obviously God. Though—obviously, I have no better idea than you why they'd be interested in this faerie."

Spéir:

Spéir: [ears slowly pop back up as he takes a slow, uneven deep breath—but he doesn't immediately speak. Clearly still struggling to find his words]

Scamall: [lets out a slow sigh of her own, ears drooping and looking back down at her tea]

Scamall: (voice soft, almost absentminded) "although… their domain is weird. I can't seem to figure it out."

Scamall: [looks up at Spéir again, eyebrows furrowed]

Spéir: [meets her eyes, though his face is empty minus a slight tension]

Scamall: (uncertainly) "what do you think it is?"

Spéir: [swallows, looking away almost… guiltily?]

Spéir: (voice subtly uneven) "… something nature-y, obviously. I can't really tell, either."

Scamall: [ears droop—but sighs, quickly looking away to finish her tea]

Nova: [has managed to curl into a ball again, their arms over their head, but it's loose this time around. They seem comfortable]

Scamall: [smiles a soft, sad smile as she eyes them]

Scamall: [once again remembering their fear, their bravery, and how they'd risked their own life to keep her and Spéir from getting dragged into their problems. How they had all that, when they were only a little faeling]

Nova: [despite their maturity, Scamall got the sense they couldn't be any older than seven]

Spéir: [takes a slow, deep breath, standing up]

Scamall: [surprised, looks back to him]

Spéir: [offers her an awkward, slightly-forced smile as he walks around the fire to sit down at her side. Finally, wraps his arms around her in a tight hug]

Scamall: [metaphorically melts into him, tearing up and laughing weakly as she hugs him back]

Spéir: (gently) "I love you, Scamall."

Spéir: [but, before she can say it back, continues more evenly) "I'm going to keep watch by the tree tonight, okay? You think you can take a stuffed animal?"

Scamall: [smile fading, presses her face into Spéir's shoulder as she hugs him tighter]

Spéir: [usually would be beside her—letting her cling to him—while one of them slept and the other kept watch, but… sometimes, he'd want to stay separate. And, to make up for it, he'd offer her a stuffed animal to cling to in his place]

[Since it was made from his essence, he'd reasoned, it should be little different from her cuddling him]

[But it'd never been the same.]

Scamall: (into his shoulder, voice muffled and disappointed) "… yeah. I love you, too, Spéir."

Spéir: [gives a weak laugh, squeezing her tighter]

Spéir: (gently, though there's an edge to his voice) "sorry… I'm just a little antsy today. I don't want to disturb your sleep, you know?"

Scamall: [gives a slow, hesitant nod as she continues clinging to him, not wanting to let go] 🥲

Poor Scamall doesn't get to cuddle with her brother 😔

On a more serious note... GOD!? God was the one who broke Talamhdé like that!? What's their connection with Talamhdé, and what reason(s) would they have to care about Nova???

story intro table of contents chapter one < last part next part >

dividers by @thyming, @thecutestgrotto, & @saradika