#go down there (nor would i even want to) just makes it. ridiculous to even think that they willingly chose to

[wickershells]

the only thing i will say about the titan, specifically the reactions of poor and working class people, is that i don’t blame anyone for finding some degree of humour or poeticism in the implosion. for once (just once!!!) the rich cutting corners in safety just to make the largest profits actually blew up in their faces, instead of ours. it shouldn’t have happened and i’m always sorry to hear of death and loss in such preventable (and also horrifying) circumstances — especially that of a teenager — but this also applies primarily to cases of factory explosions and mine cave-ins and mall collapses etc. where the death tolls are considerably higher, the victims much less wealthy. there’s a sense of irony here. that’s all

[crypticminx]

Telling Felix Catton you’re pregnant <333

Felix Catton (Saltburn) x fem! Reader headcanons xo

AN: hiiii these are some headcanons I made :p im too lazy to proofread Dx if you enjoy lmk if you want part 2! Blink twice and you’ll miss the smut xx

- first of all, your relationship started out as a one night stand situation because for the love of God Felix cannot keep a woman or anyone around for more than a few months—weeks even.

- You, however, were a different situation. He saw other people, you saw other people, but the two of you always kept each other locked in the back of both of your heads. Wether you needed him as a very exciting stress reliever or he needed you to release any ounce of frustration he had, the two of you were just a simple phone call away. And not just drunk booty calls.

- The feeling of his broad shoulders pressed against your frame as he would effortlessly lift you up and pin you to the wall, whispering sweet melodies into your ears as he thrusted with all of his might to make you feel good—no, more than good. He’d never admit it, but for a girl like you, he’d give you everything, even if meant he’d have nothing. “Such a good girl,” he’d purr, feeling you melt under the sound—and for a better word, control of his asserting voice

- The two of you lovebirds were loud, extremely noisy and often torturous for the other students near your dorm, who were either trying to cram for exams or focus on non-sexual activities. You would moan without a care in the world and especially when you felt him release his seed in you for the first time, which you could only assume wasn’t planned nor talked about between the two of you. It felt too sweet, and so pure with how he breathlessly smiled at your sweaty, blushing face after the deed was done. Said smile being enough to make you fall into his little trap and roll back over into another intense round of sex

- With Felix, it was like walking on a dream that never seemed to end. You could be careless, indiscreet and whatever the hell you wanted to be. he provided you with a sense of being free from the real world and wholeheartedly invited you deep into the unrealistic life of Felix Catton.

- That dream, the very one that appeared to be endless, came crashing down. What ruined it? Two little pink lines.

- With an eyebrow piercing that adults despised, a stunning model-like body, and a reputation for tossing girls around like they were paper planes; Felix was fuck buddy material, not father material.

- Sure, he has enough money to knock you up ten times and make sure every child would be provided for, but you were you. Yes, you came from wealth but not the type of catton wealth that would probably leave a child with a ridiculously expensive live-in nanny as if it was nothing. Knowing how your parents felt, there was no way in hell they would be supportive and even just the simple thought of them meeting Felix made you cringe to the point of triggering your morning sickness again.

- You would avoid Felix like the plague you read about in your boring history textbooks and on the rare occurrence you ran into him heading out on his bike or going for a well deserved drink, you would bolt as if you had to run for your life. Facing him was just the beginning of your problems

- So when you finally mustered the courage to tell him and unfortunately for you, it had to be at the university’s sleazy lounge pub, Felix was there in all his glory and sat in his usual spot. Farleigh seemed more interested in drinking than caring about what was being said, a group of girls were scattered around the boys and obnoxiously fake laughed at whatever Felix said, and there was that new guy whose name you couldn’t remember to save your life. Oliver? You thought it was, but that clearly didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was you and Felix.

- Felix nearly chokes on his drink seeing you walk towards him, your head down and your tail between your legs. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

- You ask him to talk immediately, ignoring how content he looks. How his solemn eyes instantly sparked with life again and his bored expression turned into a relish of happiness. He was thrilled.

- “I’m pregnant.”

- He stares blankly at you, seeing you tear up as if you just admitted something horrible

- A baby? And a baby with you? Nothing about that was horrible. In fact, he often pictured a future with you, even if it seemed insane.

- i he’s not angry. In fact his thick brows soften and somehow in the midst of all the chaos of noise surrounding the two of you, his words are very clear.

- “I’m glad it’s with you.”

[imfinereallyy]

“The demon is back.” Eddie pokes into Steve’s side to wake him up.

“Babe, please go back to sleep.” Steve shoves his face into the pillow, making his voice muffled.

“Steeeeve.” Eddie whines, “It’s really there I swear this time. And I locked the door so I know it’s the demon again. Nothing else can get inside.”

“Eddie.” Steve squishes his face even deeper into the mattress. “You do this at least once a week. I love you; I do. But I never look because there is no demon. And every morning, you wake up fine. So please, go back to sleep.”

“What if I promise never to mention it again if it’s not really there? Will you look then?” This time Eddie’s voice wavers, his actual terror showing.

Steve sighs and shifts his head to look at Eddie, “This is really freaking you out, huh?” He says it kindly. Steve can tell this is serious to Eddie. So even if he doesn’t believe it, Eddie does. And what’s important to Eddie is important to Steve.

Eddie nods back furiously.

“Okay, I’ll look.” Steve shifts his head towards the other side, where the chair by the window sits. There, sitting in that corner is a dark shadowy figure. “Oh.”

“See! I told you! Demon! Oh god, it’s gonna get us.” Eddie throws his hands up. Even though he’s terrified, he’s accepted defeat.

“No.” Steve says calmly. “It’s just El.”

Eddie pauses his rant, “What?”

“It’s just El. In the corner. She does that sometimes, watches people she cares about until she falls asleep. To make sure they’re safe.” Steve looks at Eddie.

“The door was locked! How are you so calm about one of the kids just watching us at night?”

“Honey, she has mind powers. I don’t think a flimsy lock from Home Depot is going to stop her.” Steve deadpans before shrugging, “And it’s El. She could ask me to kill a man, and I probably wouldn’t even ask questions.”

“What if she asked you to kill me?”

“I’d be conflicted.”

“I want to be mad, but honestly I think I’d hand you the knife.” Eddie sighs, looking down at Steve.

Steve scoffs, “Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t stab you. I’d obviously sneak some kind of poison into your honeycombs. Way less messy.”

Eddie goes back to nearly shouting, “Why have you thought about this?!”

“Honestly, I have a lot of intrusive thoughts. I just don’t speak them out loud.”

Despite the fact they are actively talking about his murder, Eddie can’t help but get all gooey with Steve in their bed. “Is this why you don’t get mad when I think aloud? Another reason why you just get me. Adding that tally to the ‘why we are great together’ column.”

“Yes, we’re pretty amazing. Can we go back to sleep now?” Steve smiles.

“Yes—wait, no.” Eddie corrects himself, getting himself back on track. He loves this man, but he is a sneaky little minx. “Why did El never say anything? I mean, this is not the first time I accused her of being a demon. Hell, we’ve been talking for literally five minutes, and she still hasn’t said anything. Also, what if she walked in on us doing, ya know, adult stuff?” Eddie blushes at the end. He’s acting like he hasn’t been whispering way worse things in Steve’s ear every night.

“First off, she won’t walk in on that. Apparently Max taught her about happy screams a long time ago.”

“Gross.”

“Yeaaa. Second, I’m pretty sure she’s asleep right now.”

Huh, now that Eddie thinks about it, he does hear soft little snores. Which is weird since neither he nor Steve snores, and they are both, ya know, awake.

“And I don’t think El speaking in a dark corner would have helped your fears. Like imagine just hear her soft “Hello” at 2 a.m.” Steve raises an eyebrow.

“I—okay I got nothing.”

“Fantastic can we go back to sleep now?”

Eddie gives one last shout, “You’re not going to stop her?”

“Are you going to tell her no? And make her worry?”

Eddie slinks down into the covers, “...no.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Eddie curves his body into Steve’s, seeking him out. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie, securing him to his chest. “Thank you for indulging me.”

Steve hums. “Anything for you baby. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Eddie kisses Steve lightly.

“I love you both as well.” El’s voice suddenly speaks into the silent room.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie screams.

Steve can’t help the giggles that come out of him. He tries to smother them into Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie can’t find it in himself to be mad.

———

some people seemed interested in more el + Steve sibling energy. And they are a sibling-like duo I love. So here’s a little something but more steddie involved. I think all three of their relationship would be very sweet. Both Eddie and Steve would protect el. I hope you enjoyed :)

[eeldritchblast]

They’re Not “Playersexual”, You’re Just Biphobic

(I was going to save this until September 23 because I thought that would be an appropriate date, but the Ask I got included in this essay just put me over the edge. So, here it is now. Buckle up.)

Bisexuality/Pansexuality is the attraction to people regardless of gender. About 4% of the USA alone (over 13.6 million people) openly identify as bisexual, according to Gallup’s latest polling. But unfortunately, bi/pan identities are so scary to some folks that they need to make up terms to avoid calling their favourite characters such. Thus, the term “playersexual” was born: a term to describe a game character who is attracted to the player character... regardless of gender.

If that sounds like it’s just a circuitous way of describing a bi/pan character, it’s because it is.

I first heard of the term “playersexual” almost a decade ago, from a Dragon Age fan complaining that Dorian was gay and thus it was “unfair” that she couldn’t romance him as female character. This fan said they wished BioWare would go back to Dragon Age II’s model of everyone being “playersexual” for “equality”.

Now, if you’ve actually played DA:2 and you’re not a bigot, you’re probably rolling your eyes just as hard as I did when I first read such a ridiculous statement. Well, prepare for this next one:

“When you make a male Hawke, Anders and Fenris are gay and Merrill is straight. Opposite is true if you make a female Hawke.”

These people are so afraid of bisexuality that they cannot even fathom its existence. They can believe in dragons and magic, but they cannot believe that a character is simply bi/pan. I find this especially hilarious for Anders, considering he had a canonical boyfriend, as confirmed both in-game and in The World of Thedas: Vol. 2 book.

I truly thought we were past this nonsense in 2023. I really, truly thought that. But then Baldur’s Gate 3 was released in full, and suddenly these same fuckers came out of the woodwork to bend over backwards avoiding calling these characters anything except bi/pan.

Note how in the above Ask, the anonymous questioner actually doubles down on avoiding addressing these two characters in particular as bi/pan!

“Playersexual” doesn’t even truly work for the characters of Baldur’s Gate 3 regardless, because the definition is oriented around attraction to the player character… which these characters are not exclusively attracted to. Here are some examples that prove otherwise:

If neither Lae’zel nor Astarion/Gale/Wyll are in a romance with the PC, Lae’zel will say she plans on propositioning one of the men for sex at the night of the tiefling party. She also flirts with Karlach in party banter.

Shadowheart expresses interest in Karlach, (“I like her. She looks like she could throw me over her shoulder and carry me to safety, should the need arise”) as well as Halsin if he leaves the party, (“he may have been misguided, but I liked looking at him.”)

Astarion flirts with nearly everyone in the party, but to just pick two examples: he mentions Wyll is the type of princely figure he used to dream about marrying, and says to Shadowheart “such a grim name for such a beautiful flower”.

Gale used to date Mystra. He also debatably flirts with Astarion by offering him some blood, after Cazador’s battle.

Wyll flirts with Lae’zel in party banter, and also refers to Halsin as a “delight” and “hunk”.

Karlach seems to have a little crush on Jaheira by the way she reacts to meeting her. She also says of Halsin, “everyone in this camp wants to climb that oak”.

Please keep in mind these are just a few examples I’ve picked out from screening through the dialogue, and there’s even more that prove the attraction to different genders these characters have is not related solely to the player. It’s just part of their identities.

In the Ask sent to me above, the anonymous questioner said they “cannot see Karlach as anything except lesbian and Astarion as gay.” This is just as bad as saying they are “playersexual” in my opinion, because yet again it’s erasing their bisexuality/pansexuality. Worse yet, it’s doing it because of the way the characters act. You cannot measure queerness based on actions and appearances being in line or not with queer stereotypes—it’s not a scale! And bi/pan folks are just as queer as lesbian and gay men, by virtue of simply being bi/pan!

All in all, I think this entire “playersexual” debate boils down to the fact that some people still refuse to see bi/pan identities as anything but “discount straight”. And that’s why people are rightfully angry when folks try to further this myth by pretending bi/pan characters don’t actually exist.

[khattikeri]

one of my favorite things about mdzs is that for how heavily its plot involves politics of classism and misogyny... even the characters most directly impacted by it can't and don't free themselves from it. literally the closest exception is mianmian.

meng yao being the "son of a whore" wasn't some sort of commie awakening for him that led him to wanting everyone to be socially equal. he played the political game, climbed the ladders, sucked up to and backstabbed and murdered people, including other prostitutes who actually had nothing to do with how he and his mother were treated at the brothel he grew up in.

he put in so much extra excessive effort for even a fraction of the same respect that members of gentry cultivation clans got. and he did deserve to be treated more humanely! but he feeds into the exact same system that created him, leading to his own undoing.

his efforts were for a fragile upward mobility that was never going to hold up. he never surpassed his origins nor did he empower others in similar stations, because the society he lives in is not one that would accept that.

the second he got caught and all those crimes exposed, he was scapegoated to hell and back, replacing wei wuxian as society's terrible one-sidedly evil boogeyman overnight.

speaking of not-quite male gentry, i think it's interesting that wei wuxian explicitly doesn't try to climb the ladders in BOTH lives, knowing full well that anything he does will be punished just for the sheer fact that he is wei wuxian.

wei wuxian is scolded for giving intelligent and correct answers in school. lan wangji does the same and is praised.

wei wuxian occasionally lounges around with fellow disciples and is punished. jiang cheng does the same and mostly escapes.

wei wuxian refuses to carry his sword around in public (after losing his golden core, which nobody knows) and is scorned as an arrogant upstart. nie huaisang has been doing the EXACT SAME THING for YEARS and nobody bats an eye.

unlike jin guangyao, wei wuxian knew subconsciously from the start that his acceptance was superficial and that he could be cast out any time. when he was 10 and recently taken in by the jiangs, he canonically would not eat or use "too much" food and water because he thought they'd find him a nuisance for "wasting their things" and kick him back out.

now away from just the classism, yu ziyuan is a proud and strong noblewoman in a society that belittles and derides women for everything they do. her strong cultivation doesn't matter. she's victim to the vicious rumors of her husband loving another woman who is strong like her but apparently had a more likeable personality.

it doesn't matter even if jiang fengmian didn't cheat or that wei wuxian is wei changze's son with cangse sanren; yu ziyuan can't bear with the humiliation of herself (and by extension her children) not being "good enough". she's ridiculed for "failing" in that one duty as a wife, mother, and woman.

she lashes out and takes out that anger on everyone present for years, giving her children lasting trauma and also being a key element in how the jiang family and yunmeng jiang sect are effectively wiped out at the hands of the wen clan.

madam jin doesn't even have a name outside of the fact that she's married to jin guangshan. i don't even remember reading anything that indicates if she's a strong or weak cultivator, or what, which in itself proves that to most people, it doesn't matter. she's "just" a woman.

of course she's angry at her husband's affairs and all the bastard children they bring in. but she also can't do anything about them, so she lashes out at the few people she can: servants. non-cultivators, probably. those very same bastard children.

shoutout to meng yao getting shoved down a flight of stairs at age fourteen, because if madam jin tried that move against her husband instead, it would make her lose even more face, which as a noblewoman she'd never do.

and that's not getting into how jiang yanli is consistently sidelined for being physically weak.

that's not getting into how mianmian was actually a good cultivator, but was mocked by everyone around her for trying to stand up for wei wuxian when everyone was turning on him. how everyone scoffed at luo qingyang's words as "just some lovesick woman" who "obviously wants to marry or bed him since he saved her".

luo qingyang is the only one of these characters who HASN'T died. she didn't play society's games like jin guangyao. she didn't dig her heels in confidence of her own abilities like wei wuxian.

she didn't bitterly lash out like yu ziyuan and madam jin. she didn't gently accept it like jiang yanli.

she just LEFT.

she married an ordinary merchant and cultivates separately from mainstream cultivation society, and therein found her own peace and happiness.

mxtx doesn't bother with particularly class conscious or feminist vocabulary to hand-hold readers into understanding these disparities, but that choice highlights them & the deeply entrenched politics of their society even more. i really love it.

[girlgenius1111]

you don't have to pretend with me

ona x reader -sickfic ish

from a request- the req was for r with chronic pain but i've never experienced that and i didn't want to write it incorrectly, so i changed it to something i have some history with :)

You hadn't had a real period in years, having been on birth control since you were a teenager. It really limited the effects of your horrible symptoms. It was simple- a shot in your ass every three months was something you could handle. However, you'd completely forgotten to get it this time. Normally you planned your next visit at the end of your appointments, but the secretary had been out, so you were supposed to call to schedule the next appointment. It had completely slipped your mind, and by the time your realized your mistake, it was too late, and they told you that you had to wait 3 months from when you were supposed to get it, in order to not mess up the cycle.

It didn't really make much sense to you, but you didn't have a choice. All you could hope was that it wouldn't be as bad as you remembered it. The first month wasn't bad, barely more than what you usually dealt with on the shot. The second month was worse, but still, manageable, especially considering it came during an off week. You were quickly approaching the third month, and you knew it wouldn't be as easy this time.

2 days before you were supposed to get it, you found yourself in a heinous mood. You'd been short with everyone, all day, even Ona. Ona, your girlfriend, who had literally no idea what was going on. It felt ridiculous to you, to complain about what was going on when every other woman dealt with it to. You'd never heard Ona complain about her period, and you didn't want her to think you were weak.

More than that, you weren't sure she'd believe you. In your last relationship, anytime you were sick or in pain, your girlfriend didn't believe you, or told you that you were being dramatic. You didn't really realize how this affected your relationship with Ona, but as you hadn't told her this, she didn't know you'd been hiding almost any sign of weakness from her.

So, you just mumbled something about having an off day when she asked why you were so grumpy. She pretty much left you alone the rest of the day, giving you the space she assumed you wanted. The only time she spoke to you was to come into the living room where you were curled up on the couch, and wish you a goodnight, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead.

-----

You woke up in the middle of the night to the sensation that someone was standing on your abdomen. It had been so long since you'd actually had cramps, you were almost alarmed, until you realized what was going on. You didn't want to get any blood on the bed, nor did you want to wake Ona up for something so trivial, so you quietly padded into the bathroom, changed your pajama shorts, and then headed out into the kitchen in search of some painkillers.

Every step was agony, and you were walking hunched over, as what you could only describe as lightning strikes of pain rippled through from your belly button down to your core whenever you tried to straighten up. You didn't make it to the cabinet you kept the medicine in, instead collapsing into a chair at the kitchen table. As soon as you sat, the zaps of pain were replaced by a continuous ache across your stomach, and around to your back.

You couldn't help the groan you let out, as you twisted uncomfortably in your seat to try to relieve the pain. It didn't work. You knew what would work, but you were absolutely sure you couldn't stand up again and make it to the medicine cabinet. Instead, you put your head in your hands, feeling tears slowly leak out of your eyes. That only made you more frustrated, which in turn made you cry harder, until you were trying to stifle sobs with your hands at the kitchen table, in the dark, at 1am.

-----

Meanwhile, Ona woke to an empty bed. She remembered you climbing in with her after she'd already gone to sleep, waking up just enough to roll into you and smush herself as close as she could. This time, though, your side of the bed was empty and cold, and Ona was disgruntled. Sleepy Ona was a grumpy Ona, something you knew very well, and she squinted her eyes open, looking over at the bathroom door, seeing if you'd just gotten up briefly. The light was off in there, though, and your side of the bed wasn't warm, indicating that you'd been up for at least a couple minutes. Sighing heavily, Ona sat up, intending to wait for you, arms crossed, to return to bed. When she saw no lights were on in the rest of the house, though, she decided to get up and find you.

The only thing she could think was that you'd gone to sleep on the couch, which didn't make any sense. You'd been grumpy yesterday, sure, but you'd gone to bed with her, and allowed her to snuggle up to you, which you wouldn't have done if you were angry. Walking down the hall, heading for the living room, she heard an odd noise in the kitchen.

She changed directions, turning right instead of left, and discovered you, slouched over at the table, crying softly into your hands. Ona was immediately distraught at the idea of you getting up in the middle of the night and leaving your bed to cry by yourself, no matter what the reason, and not waking her.

"Cariño, qué pasó?" she asked, voice raspy with sleep. At her words, your head snapped up, looking at Ona with pain etched clearly across your face. "Amor," she says sympathetically, moving forward to stand by your side.

"Oni, go back to bed," you try, attempting to sound firmer than you felt.

"Not until you tell me what is wrong." Ona replies, actually succeeding in being firm. She brushes a loose strand of hair off your face, then combs her fingers through you hair. You melt at her touch despite yourself, before you hunch over again, another wave of pain shooting through your abdomen; you'd straightened up to much. You whimper quietly, and Ona's hand pulls off of you, worried she'd done something to hurt you. That gets you talking, never wanting Ona to think she's the cause of your pain.

"It's just cramps, Ona, I'm fine," you insist, even as your face scrunches uncomfortably, and you grit your teeth through another jolt. Though confused, seeing as though she'd never known you to have bad cramps, Ona wraps her arms around you without another thought, lifting you easily to carry you back to bed. She may be short, but she prides herself on being strong enough to carry you easily, despite your many objections. "Oni," you whine, yet still, you clutch onto her tightly, resting your head on her shoulder.

"Shh, let's get you back to bed."

Once Ona gently places you back on your side of the bed, she stands back, looking at you with a determined expression. It's almost funny really, the girl standing in front of you, wearing a baggy t-shirt and shorts, wavy hair wild around her head, trying to look stern. Ona couldn't look stern, she wasn't capable. She could only ever look adorable, at least to you.

"What will help you feel better?" She asks.

You bite your lip for a moment, before the pain wins out over your independence. "Paracetamol, please," you murmur.

She nods once. "Anything else?"

You're sure there's something you're forgetting, but it's been so long since you've had cramps like this, and it hurts too bad for you to think straight. "I don't know," you whisper finally, tears spilling over again.

"Okay amor, relax, I will take care of you," the brunette says gently, leaving you with a peck on your forehead. She's only gone for a few minutes, but when she returns, you've curled yourself into a little ball on the edge of the bed, as far from her side as you could get, obviously trying not to bother her. Ridiculous, considering she wasn't going back to sleep until after you did.

She gives you the medicine, handing you a new cold water which you accept gratefully. Then, before you can tell Ona to get back in bed, she leaves the room again. She returns fast this time, holding something in her hands you don't recognize.

The defender doesn't explain, either, even though she notices the questioning look on your face. Instead, she climbs onto the bed behind you, and nudges you out of your ball to lay in between her legs, head resting back on her chest. Still silent, she rolls your shirt up, massaging the skin of your abdomen lightly. Her warm hands feel so good, you let out a sound of relief. Smiling to herself, Ona places the heating pad she brought with her across your abdomen, clicking it on. You soften completely against her, letting out a long sigh.

"Thanks, Oni," you mumble, and she kisses the top of your head in response. She isn't done with you though, patting your arm lightly when your eyes flutter close.

"Do you normally have cramps this bad?" she asks, because the thought of you hiding this from her, like you'd been doing tonight, once a month for the entirety of the time you've been dating, makes her nauseous.

"No," you tell her sleepily, briefly explaining the situation you'd found yourself in. Ona is quiet for a few moments.

"Why didn't you tell me? And why didn't you wake me up tonight?" she wonders, not able to fully hide the hurt in her voice. You're fully awake now, almost reading her mind as you realize what she's worried about; that you don't trust her.

"I didn't think it was a big deal," you say quickly. "And I didn't want to bother you with it, with something that every woman deals with," you justify.

"Amor, you hurting will always be a big deal to me." Ona insists. "You should have woken me up. Do you... do you not trust me? Did I do something to make you thing I would not take your pain seriously?" the brunette asks, and you wince at the question. This was your problem, not Ona's. Could she not see that?

"No, Oni, of course I trust you. It's... it's not about you." You pause. "I didn't want you to think I was being dramatic or weak."

"Why would I think that? Why would I not believe you when you say you are hurting?"

All she gets is a shrug in response, and she feels you shutting down again. Unwilling to let that happen, she presses you further.

"No, amor, tell me. Did someone make you feel that way? Like you could not be honest about how you were feeling?"

You don't respond for so long that Ona thinks you've fallen asleep, or just aren't going to answer.

"My ex. She used to tell me I was being dramatic when I was sick. She was right though, I was," you rush to justify.

Ona's arms tighten around you slightly, and it reassures you. When she responds, you recognize an angry tone in her voice, but also a protective one.

"That is not what a good girlfriend does. I will never do that. You are allowed to be in pain, and be sick. You are not being dramatic for feeling things. It does not make me think any less of you, and it certainly does not make me think that you are weak." Ona declares.

"Are you sure? I'd understand if you thought I was exaggerating." you say quietly. At this, Ona tilts your chin up and to the side, so she can look into your eyes.

"I found you crying at the kitchen table, you were in so much pain. That is not dramatic, not to me. I am sure." Ona promises, and she feels you relax against her, if only slightly.

"I love you," you say quietly, voice cracking on the last word.

"Te amo mucho, cariño. Mucho mucho." Ona pairs her words with several gentle kisses pressed into the side of your head.

"Ona?"

"Sí?"

"Can I go to sleep or will this light on fire if I don't turn it off," you ask seriously, referring to the heating pad laying across your abdomen. You've never used one before, and you aren't sure what the safety requirements are. Apparently, this is a dumb question, because Ona bursts out laughing, disturbing the quiet murmur of voices you both had been keeping to.

"Sí amor, you can go to sleep. I'll put you out if you light on fire, te prometo," she tells you, still laughing. You roll your eyes slightly before allowing them to flutter shut, even though you know Ona can't see the gesture.

"Wake me up if it starts to hurt again?" she asks, seriousness returning.

"Te prometo," you say, echoing her words for just a second ago. A grin tugs at Ona's lips at your spanish use.

"Bueno. Goodnight my pretty girl," Ona whispers into your hair, her use of an english term of endearment making you blush.

With that, both of you allow yourselves to drift off. You're sure, now, that Ona will not care if you wake her up. Ona is sure that you will wake her up. Or, that she'll wake up if you do, seeing as though you're sprawled on top of her. She doesn't expect perfection, or for you to start coming to her with all your problems right away. She finds that she doesn't mind having to demonstrate her love to you, though. If there's anything she loves to do, it's remind you, everyday, that she loves you unconditionally.

-----

[anxiousnerdwritings]

I can totally imagine that, after getting absolutely no where, Jokerized!twin darling just has an Azula-level breakdown. Especially if the Batfam or God forbid Damian somehow manages to subdue the unpredictable mess. There's no way that Twin!Reader doesn't resent Damian to a degree, especially after everything he put them through... so seeing his twin brother not only be accepted but also find a family that was willing to have him? While Twin!Darling was just used and abused in some shape or form? Absolutely breaking down!

Twin!Reader wholeheartedly holds an immense amount of resentment towards both Damian and Talia. I really like the idea that Twin!Reader was more akin to being that of a normal child born outside of a family full of assassins than to acting like one who was. Like, Twin!Reader was on par with Damian when it came to the proficiency of their training but the mentality just wasn’t there for them. They couldn’t just aimlessly kill, they couldn’t just walk away with someone’s blood on them and not feel something. Not only that, they just weren’t emotionless to any degree like how their mother and brother so easily were. They laughed, they cried, they felt fear, they felt hurt. Like, I’ve had this scenario in my head for a bit of there being a thunderstorm or a blizzard and Twin!Reader seeking out Damian because they’re scared, they sneak into his room and they just want comfort. They just want to be together with their twin brother in their moment of need. And Damian begrudgingly allows it cause they won’t go away no matter what he says but he still makes comments about how weak they are for something as ridiculous as a storm to have them acting like this and that the Reader better be out before mother finds out. I especially like this kind of scenario being what Twin!Reader holds onto when they need something no the better side to look back on. It didn’t happen often, nor did it come without berating, but there were a few moments that Twin!Reader had with Damian that they’ve held onto, that they’ve cherished.

I also really like the idea of Talia having tried to kill Twin!Reader behind Ra’s back, leaving them for dead only for them to survive and that’s where we go from there. I think it really adds to the whole familial betrayal thing and gives more to the Reader eventually going off the rails, especially as they’re in search of somewhere to belong, for someone who willingly and genuinely wants them for them. It makes it even more of a surprise and gut punch respectively for Damian, Talia, and Ra’s when the Reader pops back up. Especially, after being Jokerized.

All their life, Twin!Reader as been used and abused in some way, shape, or form. And even after being Jokerized that’s all they’re met with. Even if it isn’t to the same extent it was with Talia and Damian, these new people the Reader is trying to find belonging in all have ulterior motives. They want to use the Reader against Batman (or one of the other main people the Reader’s been associated with), they want something to have and hold over Batman’s (or whoever else’s) head. That’s all it is, at least in the beginning. Eventually these people do come to have some amount of care for the Reader but by then it’s too late and the Reader is in the wind and on to the next one.

I do really love the idea of Damian and Twin!Reader sharing their love for animals. I especially love the thought of the Reader’s first pet/companion being a hyena Joker and Harley (probably just Harley) gifted them after their initiation into the Clown Family. That hyena would mean the absolute world to the Reader, as far as the Reader was concerned it was their first friend and the first thing that ever stayed around for them. Wherever the Reader went, so did it. I love the thought of the hyena being protective of the Reader, sticking close to them for both security and comfort. The hyena very quickly becomes the only thing that Twin!Reader truly cares about anymore. Not to mention, there’s no doubt that after everything Twin!Reader’s been through before and after being Jokerized they have constant nightmares, even some night terrors, and the only one there for them is their loyal hyena. It’s there to curl around them protectively, to give them a warmth they’re not used to and a sense of being looked over that they’ve never felt before. I can even see the hyena bringing the Reader snacks to remind them to eat and take care of themself.

I can really see the Jokerized!Twin!Reader being thrown into an all out breakdown if their hyena died, especially if it died protecting them (whether from the batfamily or some rogue rando). That was their only friend, the only thing that truly ever cared about them and now they had nothing anymore. They had no one. They were lost all over again. If any of the batfamily members had anything to do with the Reader’s precious hyena’s death there would never be any forgiveness. If someone else were the reason for the hyena’s death than the Reader wouldn’t think twice about killing them and getting revenge for their beloved companion. Either way, no matter who caused the Reader’s hyena’s death I can see the batfamily all trying to subdue them from enacting any revenge on whoever. No matter how feral and berserk the Reader is in the moment, no matter how hard they fight, how hard they hit, I see Bruce, Jason and Damian especially not letting go of them. They hold the Reader the entire time, unrelenting in their grasp no matter how hurt they get in the process. If the Reader is as unrelenting as they are then they’ll have to knock them out. From there the family will take Jokerized!Twin!Reader home, where they’ll be safer, where the family can watch over and be there for them.

After their breakdown, there is no way in hell, Damian and Bruce especially will be able to go on with the Reader not being with them. Seeing how absolutely destroyed they’ve become, how much of a broken husk they’ve been turned into after everything they’ve been through, Damian and Bruce can’t allow anything more to happen to their sibling/child. No matter what it takes, how long it takes, Damian and Bruce aren’t giving up on Jokerized!Twin!Reader. They will save them, they will put them back together again. They will be the family that the Reader should have had all along.

God forbid if Ra’s was there to see his precious grandchild breakdown like that in front of him. Damian and Bruce be damned, he’s taking them home with him and Talia will be thoroughly dealt with for her part in all of this, in destroying his pride and joy.

[prodbyblush]

aib male characters + s/o sleeps on the couch after an argument

ｎｏｗ ｌｏａｄｉｎｇ …

▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100%

ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

・❥・ not requested

→ gn!reader

He thought giving you a few hours of space would be the best choice so you could cool your head after the heated argument. Much to ARISU's horror, he no longer found your pillow on your side of the bed along with the blanket, his pillow left all alone on the bed.

"Hey" he murmurs, standing behind you even though he knew you wouldn't face him. "I didn't mean anything I told you earlier. I'm sorry." He says.

"Shouldn't have said anything in the first place then." You replied back, removing the couch cushions and replacing it with your pillow.

"Come back to bed now, will you?" He asks, enveloping his arms around your chest, resting his chin on top of your shoulder. "I won't be able to sleep with you. Apart from that, let's talk it out while cuddling in bed, sounds good?"

"What you're doing is really ridiculous and childish." CHISHIYA begins to say, watching you create your own makeshift bed on the couch, annoyed at the fact that despite his multiple attempts to get you to sleep with him in the room, you wouldn't back down.

"Oh really?" You questioned, slipping inside the blanket before laying down, turning your back on him. "The last thing I wanted was for you to call me ridiculous and childish. So, good night!" You bid, closing your eyes afterwards. Hoping that he would leave you alone.

Though you had your eyes closed, you could hear his footsteps on the floor, walking around to turn off the lights in the living room and then slipping himself inside the blanket behind you. Wait what?

"I know you're not asleep yet." He whispers, placing an arm on top of yours, sliding down so he could hold your hand and intertwine his fingers with yours.

"I want to let you know that I'm sorry."

"Babe, she was just a co worker!"

"Didn't looked like only a co worker to me, Suguru."

NIRAGI shuddered upon hearing you address him with his first name. You would always call him any sweet endearment your pretty little head could think of, but never his first name. So upon hearing you call him that, he knew he is doomed.

"Are you going to be for real? I already promised you that I'll put a pillow between us, that I won't cross that line, nor even snore and hog the blanket!" He fires back, placing his hands on top of his hips before raising his hands up besides his head.

"Whatever. Suit yourself." He says, walking away and back into the room you both shared.

Later on that night, you had hoped that Niragi would come for you, beg for you to come back into the room and sleep with him, but he didn't. And so with a heavy heart, you slept.

But the real surprise came in the morning when you found Niragi sleeping on the floor, a pillow under his head while his arms are crossed over his chest.

"I'm going to sleep on the couch tonight. I want to be alone."

Those words that escaped your lips earlier made KARUBE shiver. Arguments rarely happened between the two of you but this one is the first - a first of raising your voices at each other while pointing fingers, putting the blame on either.

Though his mind is clouded with anger earlier, he never meant the words he threw at you. In fact, he hated himself for calling you such names. And now he's found himself laying down behind you on the couch, slipping underneath the blanket.

"I'm sorry, baby." He whisper apologizes, placing a kiss on your shoulder before wrapping his arms around you. "Never meant anything I told you."

"I know, baby." He heard you reply, placing your hands on top of his.

"Let's go to sleep now, yeah? It's cold out here so I'll make sure you're warm."

TAGS: @aikerx @retrospacealien @chishiya-of-diamonds @boowoomuu

[rodolfoparras]

Guard dog reader has me in a headlock

Cuz like hear me out

We get into a physical fight with another one of the soldiers and get punished by price

Although I love the thought of Price punishing guard dog reader for misbehaving I couldn’t stop thinking about Price feeling proud of guard dog reader for behaving, even going as far as to reward him for it

Pairing: John Price x Top Male Reader

Cw: 18+, possessiveness, riding

Price never liked this; award ceremonies that is, had never liked the itchy suits, sitting in stuffy rooms, engaging in conversations with people he’s never met before and doesn’t really care for

Throughout his entire career he’d done everything to avoid it.

However this time around he had a reason to attend because this time you’ll be there as well, and not just as his date but you’ll be up on that stage, getting rewarded for all the good work you’ve done this year.

When Price first took you in, no one had expected you to get this far. You were a stray, a feral dog, kicked out of every squad you’ve ever been a part of.

Tf141 had been your last resort, and although everyone had discouraged Price from taking you in, he’d seen something in you that no one else had seen and had therefore decided to make you a part of his team.

You quickly proved that you deserved your place and suddenly Price had a reason to dig up the itchy suit he had kept buried in his closet, had even made sure to prepare some conversation topics he could use when he’d be in those stuffy rooms full of strangers.

“Mind helping me with this tie? You say, looking frustrated as ever while waving around the fabric in your hand.

“Come here “ he grunts out and motions you over with his hand.

“ is it obvious that I’m out of my element here?” You say in a joking tone but it’s obvious that you’re nervous

“Just a bit,” he muses as he slings the fabric around your neck.

“Fuck me,” you groan, “do you think they’ll let someone else recive the award on my behalf, maybe you -“

“Don’t be ridiculous you’re going, " he says, tone firm as ever while focusing on his task.

“Why?”

“Because of this,” he says while lightly yanking at the tie “and because it’s your award and not mine,” he continues while adjusting the fabric “and because I want to see the look on their faces when you’re the one to receive an award and not them” he finishes up before dropping his hands onto your shoulders, and giving you a once over “You look good”

“Yeah? You think so?” You ask, trying your best to suppress the smile on your face.

You do look good in your suit and with that bashful smile on your face.

You look good as his date, not that anyone would know that part but that didn’t matter

and you’ll certainly look good when you walk up on that stage, accepting an award no one thought you’d be able to get, well no one except for Price that is.

His boy, he thinks to himself, feels a sense of pride swell up in his chest before he slots your lips together.

His boy, he thinks to himself as licks your bottom lip asking for entrance.

His boy, he thinks to himself dragging his tongue along the roof of your mouth as if trying to memorize every nook every crevice

He breaks the kiss, eyes wide, face flushed and absolutely breathless.

Price knows he should be out there, the award ceremony is just about to begin but instead he’s tugging that itchy suit off of his body before doing the same with yours. They didn’t deserve to see you dressed up anyways.

He should be out there making conversation with people he doesn’t know nor care for, instead he’s slipping out the plug he’d kept on him and pushing two spit slicked fingers past his puckered rim, making swift work of stretching himself for your cock.

He should be out there watching you the feral dog get ready to go up on that stage and get rewarded for all the good work you’d done this year, instead he’s got that feral dog under him, looking docile as ever while he works himself up and down your length.

His boy his boy his boy he chants over and over in his head before he tips over the edge, coming with a cry and spilling on both your abdomens.

•

“Give a round of applause to.. '' Price tunes out the voice of the announcer, eyes zoning in on your form as you walk up the stage to get your award.

His boy.

[smuthospital]

⭐️Yandere Kylar x Reader⭐️

Premise: You're a streamer, and your biggest fan really really likes you

Warning: Non-con, kidnapping, gn reader

Minors DNI

Bright lights flash in your eyes, your fingers rapidly bashing buttons on your keyboard, your other hand furiously clicking your mouse. You whine as your character suddenly falls to the ground, dead.

"Ok, guys! Ok, I get it! I know I'm not that good at this game! No need to tease me!" You laugh. Inside, you're a bit peeved. These stinky bastards aren't here for your gameplay so they better shut up. Shut up and enjoy their eye candy. You're currently streaming an online first-person shooter. You made your little hobby into a little side hustle not too long ago. Guys love watching hot people play games and it's proven to be profitable. "I'm cute? Well thank you, Mr. Husband!" This guy is a regular. Gotta give him those shout-outs he practically pays for.

As much as it hurts to deal with these weirdos, It helps with expenses. You've even seen Robins username pop in and out quickly, probably hoping you didn't see. At first, you were uncomfortable with acting all sweet for your audience, but you warmed up to the idea when it started staving off your bastard Landlord at the orphanage you live in, Bailey. You play games dressed sexy, say sweet dumb things and the money comes pouring in.

These poor, lonely guys send you money in hopes you'll give them a crumb of attention, and you do. Sometimes, you say their names. You don't exactly care that you're taking their money at all. It's a gift! It's not like you forced them to give you money, nor did you even ask. They just want a chance to get in your pants and you're not gonna stop them from dreaming. You can't count the number of times people in the chat have asked if you have an onlyfans.

You'd never, of course, date one of these pigs. You imagine your viewers are stinky, slimy, greasy and would cum in their pants at just seeing you in person. Their whole body is probably sticky to the touch and shower maybe once a month they probably have piss filled mountain dew bottles on the floor next to their pc and shit stains on their seat. You're pretty sure a few guys in the comments are jerking off as you stream this very second.

A few times, you've received ominous messages in the comments from different users, almost threatening you for some ridiculous problem they have with you. How you play, what you're wearing, or just your face, so you make sure to always hide your location and are very vague about your personal life. You're used to them being weird, saying things about what they'd do to you if they were alone with yo- Just have to learn to ignore it. You calm yourself down.

"Well, that's enough for today, I'm getting sleepy! It was nice playing with you today. I'll see you tomorrow, goodnight, love you!" You blow a kiss at the camera. You see people commenting their 'i love you too's and whining about how you could stay a bit longer' in the chat before you disconnect. You made $540 from that two-hour stream. You received most of it from the same person. Mr.Husband. Not one minute after closing the stream, you get a message. You thought you disabled direct messages? You notice that it's to your personal account that's open on another tab from an unnamed account. No bio, no profile picture.

New user: Hey

New user: Do you want to meet up sometime? For coffee?

You: Who's this?

New user: I'm Kylar. You can get to know me when we get coffee.

You: Uh no? How the fuck do you know me?

New user: I love your streams, pretty. Drop the fucking attitude before you piss me off. I knew you'd be more of a bitch off-camera. You just look too good to be good hearted. You have to be taught obedience. You're lucky I care about you so much.

You: Keep your tiny prick away from me. I never want to see you in my presence. Disgusting. Ugly pig. Do me a favor and never ever leave your dirty cave. Go fuck yourself

New user: Wanna watch?

*New user has now been blocked*

You stand up and walk away from your computer. how the fuck did he find your actual account? You don't even have your real name anywhere. You start to undress, not noticing your computer's camera has flicked on again.

In a dark room, a man fists his massive cock slowly, eyes trailing up and down his obsession through the screen. His mind is filled with all the things he wants to do to a little cock tease like you. Ruin you, break you, crush you under his weight, teach you a lesson for whoring yourself out. A cute treat like you should have better manners "Pig...tiny prick. Ah, (y/n) I can't let you just say those things to your husband." he watches as you slide your underwear down, eyes zeroing in on the crevice between your thighs as you bend over. He shudders as hot baby batter coats his chest and thighs, continuing to roll down his cock in fat globs.

Two days later, you're walking back home from a late shift at the cafe. You plan to stream when you get home.

Something is watching you.

Cold sweat dribbles down the back of your neck. You shiver, the cold night air doing nothing to calm you. You can feel eyes drilling holes into your back. You picked up your pace, your eyes darting all around. Who is it? What do they want? You think you can hear footsteps not far away. They're getting closer. You break into a sprint and make it to Danube street before you're tackled to the ground. All air is pushed from your lungs, depleting you of oxygen. You do your best to fight against your unseen attacker, but they're far too strong. You try to scream, but only a wheeze comes out. The man roughly picks you up like a sack of potatoes under his arm and carries you into a mansion nearby.

He walked down a flight of stairs and threw you to the ground. You tried to scramble away, but he grabs your ankle and drags you back to him. You get a look at his face in the dim light. He's handsome, but his expression strikes fear in your heart. Fury is the only word you can think of to describe it. You scream and flail your limbs wildly, trying to get him the fuck off of you. You hear a crack and before you realize what happened, your cheek is burning. "Shut." Smack "The." Smack "Fuck." Smack "Up." He's seething by the end. Your head was knocked back into the ground by the last hit. A dribble of blood runs down your nose, your cheeks completely red and moderately swollen. You're no longer trying to fight him, head far too foggy to do anything but lay there in pain.

"I'm sorry, baby." He huffs, calming down a bit. "Don't fight me and that won't have to happen again." He wiped at the blood on your face with his thumb, cradling your cheek. A blush creeps over his face along with a deranged smile as he stares down at you with his unblinking eyes. "You're just so perfect. Everything." You feel a bulge forming atop you where he's straddled. He pants heavily as he looks you up and down. Hot tears slip down your swollen cheeks at the realization that you can't get yourself out of this one.

You lie completely still as he palms his crotch in front of you. "I...I'm kylar...you said I have a small prick, (Y/n)... That wasn't very nice. You should say things like that to your husband." You stare at him in awe...it's..the guy from the chat. did he find you? He's crazy. He's insane. He's gonna kill you. Your chest heaves up and down uncontrollably. You feel blood rushing to your ears, feeling the most fear you've ever felt in your entire life. He takes notice of your panic attack and tries to calm you. "H-hey! Shhh, it's ok, just breathe!" You don't hear a word he's saying and thrash wildly again. Your legs kick underneath him, but his body doesn't budge an inch.

You freeze when you feel his lips smash onto yours. He grabs your wrists in one hand above your head, effectively immobilizing you. It feels like he's trying to eat you, no longer caring about your little tantrum. "Just stay still." He mutters as his large hands roam up and down your body like he's waited his life for this moment. You feel his ever growing bulge rub against your stomach. He grabs your hands before you could try to fight him again.

"...You know...I've been giving you my good money, (Y/n). All because I knew how hard it was to live on your own. But now you're here with me. You'll be my personal house whore." You feel his breath hit your cheek. "Please...let me go. I didn't do anything to you!" You're full on sobbing at this point and to your horror, you feel his cock twitch against you.

"Oh fuck! Keep crying for me like that, baby." He's clawing your pants. Your eyes dart around the room for anything that can help you, but your blood runs cold when you just see hundreds of photos of you plastered all over his walls, some even on his ceiling. You hear a loud tear. This animal ripped your pants and underwear in the process of ridding them from your body.

You're a shaking mess as he cups your sex in his hand. "K-Kylar, please!" You cry, trying to appeal to his humanity. He groans, a little wet spot of pre cum appears on his crotch. "Say my name again." He demanded. His fingers rim around your hole, threatening to dive in. You quiver at the feeling. He unzipped his pants and you feel something impossibly large, heavy and hot slam onto your stomach with a thud.

He releases you momentarily and moves himself lower on your body, his head between your legs. His arms circle around your thighs in a vice grip. He takes a strong whiff and lets out a moan. You feel his tongue slide up and down your sex as his fingers plat around with your hole before dipping half a finger in. You're too dry, it hurts! You whine and struggle, uncomfortable. His finger dips all the way in, uncaring for your pleasure. You scream as he continues to thrust his finger inside you as his mouth engulfs your sex. He removes his finger and lifts himself off you. You sigh in relief.

That relief dies as you feel his meaty cock push at your hole. He begins to push in, but your hole resists. It's too big. He lets out a sound of annoyance before spitting on his hand and rubbing the liquid up and down his cock. It does little to help aid in his entrance. "This may hurt a bit…a lot actually." He wicked grin stretches across his face before he rears his hips back and forces his cock through. You let out a blood curdling scream he rips through your insides. He's only halfway in, your walls desperately trying to push him back out. He holds onto your waist and pulls you into him, bottoming out. You feel like you're bleeding, but you're too afraid to look down.

You can hardly breathe. His cock feels like it's in your stomach. Your body twitches, hot tears slipping past the corners of your eyes as you wheeze out please for mercy. He only looks down at you in awe at your beauty. "Oh, you're so cute like this! I knew you could take it! I know it hurts now, but just give it time." His thumb rubs at your tears. There's nothing you can do to get out of this. You feel completely helpless.He pulls himself out, and slowly goes back in, groaning. "Fuck, you're so tight" he grunts. You close your eyes and hear a flash. Your eyes snap open to see he's holding a camera. A blinding light fills your vision along with a 'click'. This sick fuck.

You let out an involuntary moan when he shoves himself into you at just the right angle. He presses himself deep inside you, holding himself there, his cock hugging your sweet spot. "Ah (Y/n)! (Y/n)! (Y/n)!" He chants your name like a mantra at each thrust, but you can barely hear him. All you can do is feel him. Hurt hurts so bad but feels equally as good.

You can't help but let little sounds of pain and pleasure spill from your lips as his hips ram into yours. You look up to see his eyes are completely rolled back. His lips press wet kisses to your cheek. You feel a knot start to build in your lower stomach without your consent and you feel yourself lift onto cloud nine. "Oh (Y/n), cum for me! Cum for your husband!" He moans. You feel shame and pleasure wash over you as you do just that. You clench around him, his breath hitches in his throat at the feeling. He slams into you harder and harder. The over stimulation is killing you now. It's too much!

You think he might break something inside you, you think his dick might knock your brain out of your skull with how hard he's pounding. You feel like your organs will never be the same. "Gonna get you pregnant, gonna breed you again and again. Gonna have my babies. We'll be great parents!" His muttering awakens what's left of the fight in you. "Ah! N-no, stop! I-I can't!" His hand slams over your mouth, his bottomless green eyes staring directly into yours. He lifts your legs up and puts them over his shoulders in a tight mating press.

He hits your special spot and your eyes roll back. He can reach far deeper like this. He slams into you with one final thrust, pressing into you with his full weight. You can't breathe. The over stimulation finally comes for you and you cum all over his cock again. You feel his cock twitch before unloading what seems to be an endless supply of semen into you. You can almost hear the wet sound of him cumming inside you. Your lower stomach rises by the sheer volume of cum produced. You wonder if he used to be a bull at Remy's farm or something. That thought quickly vanishes along with your whole mind as your brain is unable to produce anymore thoughts.

With a satisfied sigh, he pulls his slipping wet cock out of you, a rush of lightly pink cum following after, quickly stopping when he plugs you up with a small plug. His cock isn't even fully soft. You pray he doesn't decide he wants a round two. "That wasn't so bad, now was it? You were crying for nothing." He pants. He kisses your temple before picking you up by your waist, once again like a sack of potatoes in one arm. He walks over to a mattress on the floor and drops you on it, your body softly bouncing on top before settling in a heap. He had a mattress the whole time and still fucked you on the cold, dirty cement floor!? You hear a click and see he's chained your right angle to the wall. He smiles at you and pevks you on the lips the way a husband would before leaving to work. His mood did a 180. He's so very cheerful, his handsome face cheerfully grinning down at you like you're a cute little kitten.

"You did really well today, (Y/n), my love. I'll be back tomorrow. You won't get dinner tonight because you fought me so much, but you'll learn to behave. I want to treat you better, so please be good for me. Goodnight." With that, your new 'husband' stands up to his full height and walks upstairs, leaving you in the cold pitch darkness of the basement.

[jimblejamblewritings]

love letters and second sons | part 3.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes),

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Previous Part | Series Masterlist

A/N: Sorry this part is so short

You stood in the drawing room of Kew, waiting for your mother and father to arrive in just a few minutes. Instead of a huge breakfast in the dining room, you opted for a light tea in a more casual setting. Honestly, you were mildly annoyed. The only thing you wanted to do after people returned from their church services, that they never attended weekly because no one cared about the priest admonishing them, was go to the Featherington house. You were shocked that Colin was calling Marina. But friends didn’t always fall in love.

It wasn’t like Penelope was upset about it. She didn’t even like Colin. But like your mother you wanted to matchmake someone and figured they would have been the easiest couple to form. But you wanted to spy on Colin and Marina under the guise of aiding in chaperoning with Penelope since Lady Featherington was running around between girls and their callers.  

Your thoughts about who to matchmake were interrupted by your parents arriving. You poured tea for them. Breakfast was a bit awkward in a way it had never been before. George and Charlotte were assessing you intently. You got in two bites of bread when the physician entered. Your parents continued their conversation while you were being checked over. The physician made little comments for the nurse to jot down. Overall, you were fine. That seemed to satisfy your mother and father. There was a glint in Charlotte’s eye. 

“The King an— Everyone, out.” 

The room, aside from Brimsley and Reynolds, cleared out. 

“George and I have decided that we’d like to give you an opportunity. There is an opera coming up. Agatha and her friend Violet will be attending. You may come with. You will meet them before the show starts and then we will stay to watch the entire performance. Afterwards, you must go home. No exceptions.” 

“Thank you! Thank you so much! I wo—” 

“Calm yourself. You know getting excited makes your condition worse.” 

You sat back down, trying not to bounce up and down. She was right after all. Being overly excited made you sweaty or a little hot for some reason and being too warm made you start to see things or think strange things. When your parents left, you ran to your wardrobe. 

The dresses needed to be fancy but not too fancy since it was a sit-down event. You picked a yellow dress with short puff sleeves. It ended just above the bottom of your ankle — very stylish for the times. Pairing it with light blue gloves that went past your elbows, you added a light blue skirt piece that made a small train. 

“You look beautiful, Your Highness,” Brimsley said. 

“I have to agree.” Both Pandora and Reynolds looked at each other, shocked they said the same thing at the same time. 

“Thank you. Shall we go? Reynolds, would you like to be dropped at home to see Father?” 

“That would be nice, Your Highness, thank you.” 

“Then let us leave now.” 

You rolled your eyes in the carriage, setting down your copy of Lady Whistledown’s society papers. 

“It is utterly ridiculous. She is a disgraceful woman. I tolerated the gossip but speculating death, wishing death on my father is something I cannot accept nor tolerate. How dare she?” 

Your confidantes agreed with you and shared their own opinions on society and gossip. 

Whispers started to spread throughout the opera house while people still rolled in and music still played. How could it not? The youngest royal child was actually outside. There was no opening for the mouth on this particular mask which meant this was not your introduction. You might speak to a lucky few but there would be no speeches or announcements tonight. People couldn’t hear you from far away with ceramic blocking your mouth. You stuck close to your mother while everyone tried to look at you or talk to you. 

“Lady Bridgerton!” Lady Danbury yelled from across the room. “Do join us.” 

Violet tried to conceal her wide eyes and smile as she grabbed Daphne’s arm before her daughter could walk away from whoever she was trying to avoid. She made eye contact with you. You watched as she rather frantically waved over someone else. 

Anthony — or should you call him the viscount for the evening — began walking towards you, bowing to the Queen before turning his full attention to you. You let him take your hand and give it a kiss. A kiss that you noted was considerably longer by a minimum of five seconds than when he kissed you as Miss Keaton. So it was definitely Violet trying to set up the princess with her son and not the valet with Colin.    

You let Anthony talk your ear off about his responsibilities as the eldest and his horseback riding hobby, notably leaving out the details of riding through the mud and staying out there for hours. He was considerably more boring when trying to impress a woman. Ignoring the whispers that permeated through the room, you tried to focus on your friend. 

You motioned for him to lean in so you could speak into his ear and actually let him hear you rather than sounding muffled, practically silencing the hall. Anthony laughed at the joke you told which caused both of your mothers to turn around. This was the Anthony you liked better. Violet gasped when you placed a hand on her son’s arm — your mother raised her eyebrows as she and Lady Danbury gave you a slight nod of approval. 

“Will you escort me to our box, Viscount Bridgerton?” 

“Please, call me Anthony.” 

“Lord Bridgerton, that is most forward when we don’t know each other.” 

“I was told royals didn’t obey our rules of upper society.” 

The two of you started up the stairs, away from prying eyes, that led up to the Queen’s box. 

“Anthony?” 

“Now we speak of first names.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I will allow you to call me by mine, just this single occasion. Anthony, where are the other Bridgerton siblings? If I remember correctly, you have seven of them? Miss Bridgerton is here but I do not see the others.” 

“Truthfully, they were very bored by the show being put on tonight. We’ve seen it before. I’m merely here to aid my mother and chaperone my sister. Have you seen this show before?” 

“If I have then it was when I was very little.” 

“Well, then please do not let my words discourage your enjoyment of the performance. Here is your stop.” He extended a hand to help you up the short steps into the box. “Y/N, thank you for the flowers from the other day. Truly, they are appreciated.” 

You studied his face for a moment. He really was handsome. His hair didn’t cover as much of his face this evening as it usually did whenever you visited. The stark colors of his black and white attire made his features stand out. 

“I am glad you liked them. Now is where I leave you for the evening, Lord Bridgerton. I shall hope to see you some more once I formally introduce myself to society.” 

“I will look forward to that day. Goodbye… Y/N.” 

“Goodbye, Anthony.” 

Taking your seat, you waited for your mother and her friends to come to the box. The smile on Charlotte’s face grew wider the closer she got to the box. She was going on about Anthony. Obviously, you were going to have many suitors to entertain but a viscount was certainly a very important suitor and only made your prospects have to be better in their courting. 

“Excuse me, I’m going to the privy,” you told your mother when you felt your throat start to tighten up. 

She just gave you a nod. The shadows of the opera house were closing in on you and you couldn’t calm your mind down. You needed to be in a place with more candlelight. You jumped at the sound of several dogs barking from the shadows. There were big creatures. You had never seen them but you could tell from their bark and — when you got too close — how their breath fanned across the top of your head. Hastening your steps to get away, you ran straight into Violet. 

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. “I decided to take a walk after going to the privy and wasn’t watching where I was going.” 

The woman in front of you smiled. “Your Highness, if I may be so bold to ask? Would you like to attend a dinner we are hosting? The Duke of Hastings will be there. I understand that you aren’t yet introduced but it woul—” 

“I shall love to come. Just tell me when.” 

“Saturday evening.” 

“Perfect.” 

Saturday evening couldn’t have come any sooner. You were tired of counting the floor titles in the bathroom and needed to leave. For the sake of your valets, you hadn’t snuck out at all that weel.

You turned to your valets. “I will be back in a few hours.” 

“Please be careful,” Pandora said. 

“I always am.” 

“Not really.” You heard someone mutter inside the carriage. 

Marshall escorted you in. You had to stop yourself from smiling, remembering that he had no clue who you were. It was almost alarming when everyone — including the Duke of Hastings — stood when you entered the dining room. You weren’t sure why you didn't expect it. Perhaps you were already too used to your disguise as Miss Keaton. You gave a slight curtsey. 

“I apologize for being late.” 

“No. You aren’t late at all,” Anthony said as he started to gather his plate. 

You shook your head. “Oh, stay where you are.” 

“But, Your Highness.” 

“I can afford to not be the head of a table for a single night.” You looked around. “I shall sit across from Miss Daphne Bridgerton.” 

“She knows your name!” Hyacinth’s voice rose three octaves. You figured you could make her night by having the princess knowledgeable about the Bridgertons. 

Colin and Benedict scrambled to pull their chairs apart so you could sit in between them. You waved Marshall away, plating your own food. You could feel the silence of the dinner table as you did things the normal way you would at Kew or Buckingham House.

They also might have been preoccupied with your disguise rather than the way you dragged your own spoon through the mashed potatoes. It was natural. Your siblings had told you all about how people would scrutinize the different masks you would wear. They'd try their hardest to get a real glimpse of your face.

The eye holes had sheer coverings on them that made it hard to see your true eye color. And when it came to your mouth. Your maids had taken their painstakingly slow time making sure the makeup covered up an unique qualities around your mouth and changed the shape of your lips to a shape unrecognizable to you at all. Hungry mamas with daughters they'd want to be in your court or sons they'd want to court you are able to sniff out something like the tiniest wrinkle by the bottom of your lip and use that to scout the whole ton until they found you without the mask on.

It happened to Edward countless of times and was the reason for all the rules regarding the masks in the first place. You looked up after cutting your chicken. 

“What were you all talking about before I arrived?” 

“Lady Whistledown,” Eloise cut in before anyone could stop her. 

“Really? Tell me more.” 

“You want to know?” 

“Of course I do. I must know her identity. However I must say I will be having a private word with her about not publishing speculation of my father’s death.” 

“How is he?” 

“Oh, he’s perfectly fine. No matter, though, I need to know every thought you have on our mysterious Lady Whistledown?” 

You enjoyed the bickering between everyone. There wasn’t even a firm thought on what class Whistledown belonged to. In your opinion it had to have been an upper class woman. Only someone like that could have enough time on their hands and still survive day to day needs. You dipped your fork into the potatoes. 

“Viscount Bridgerton, I must say that any correspondence between the royals and the Bridgerton House should be sent to Kew. I stay there now.” 

“Correspondence?” Violet asked, trying to suppress the excitement in her voice. 

“Yes. I shall need to understand the ton more than what I have studied. Don’t bother putting them together. I much prefer to read individual letters. Now, I have engagements already arranged for tomorrow so I must be on my way. However, I would love to attend dinner again. Goodnight, Lady Bridgerton, Viscount, Bridgertons, Your Grace.” 

Anthony stood up from the table. “Let me escort you to your carriage.” 

“That would be much appreciated, Lord Bridgerton.” 

~~

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom, 

I implore you all to remember that gossip, particularly baseless gossip, can be a dangerous thing. While we all are very entertained by Lady Whistledown, remember that you must discover the truth for yourself. I would hate to see lives ruined over entertainment. 

Yours Truly, 

Princess Y/N Hanover

Dear Viscount Bridgerton, 

The dinner at your house was very lovely. Your family seems to be a wonderful group of people. I am sorry for keeping my lady’s maid away for so long. She has been in Ireland, procuring plant seeds and fabrics for me. Please fret no more for she will be back soon. But I do have to say our correspondence might be limited to letters for a majority of our current time. Until I am introduced to society, it is not wise for me to constantly be out. I shall look forward to more times spent with the Bridgertons at a later date. 

Yours Truly, 

Princess Y/N Hanover 

You finished signing the letter, handing it to Pandora to take to the press for copies to be made. Moving an entire printing house from Buckingham to Kew wasn’t exactly quick and easy but your staff had managed to do it in no time at all. For the time being, Kew was entirely self-sufficient. 

“Please take the letters for the Bridgertons to their house after you have visited the press.”  

“Yes, Your Highness.” “Brimsley, what is on the schedule after the physician leaves?” 

“You wanted to ride horses and then prepare a bouquet for the ball tomorrow night to be delivered by one of us.” 

“Yes, thank you. And after that?” 

Reynolds looked at you and then his partner. You had just made the schedule no less than an hour ago. It didn’t seem normal for you to not know. Their eye contact didn’t waiver as they silently communicated to not say a word but just answer all your questions. You got up, moving to your wardrobe to get a petticoat for outside. 

“Ah, yes, Brimsley. Are we preparing the bouquet tonight before or after the physici…an…”

Tears started to well up in your eyes as you realized you had asked the question already. Brimsley and Reynolds were a tad too slow. You were already in the wardrobe, trying to calm yourself down. Every time a sob left your mouth or you begged them not to tell your parents caused some pain in their hearts. Reynolds stopped Pandora from leaving, handing the letters to a different lady-in-waiting. 

You looked up in the dark space when you heard the knocking. It was hard to ignore the dogs in the shadows just waiting to snap at you. But the dark stopped the heavens from coming in. It was always a compromise. And since the heavens confused your mind and blocked your memory, the dogs would have to wait. 

“You can open it.” 

Pandora stuck her head in, trying to prevent too much light from coming in. “You’re stronger than whatever you have, you know? It doesn’t matter. None of it does… Maybe you should show the planets and shadow dogs and other shadow creatures that they cannot control a princess. They do not control you.” 

Reynolds sighed as he said a quick prayer to not be fired. “Maybe going to the ball would show the shadows that they cannot control you.” 

You didn’t really have a choice. Pandora practically pulled you out of the closet and started making plans for tomorrow’s ball, including how to enjoy yourself but stay hidden.

(part 4)...

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[mediumgayitalian]

Plink.

“Psst, hey! Nico!”

Plink. Plink.

“Nico! You up?”

Plink.

Plink plink plink. Plink —

“What in the world,” Nico hisses, yanking open his window, “is going — oh.” He blinks. “Will?”

Will grins. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighbourhood,” he says, voice not nearly quiet enough for someone who is at direct risk of being devoured. “Thought I’d drop by. Can I come in?”

If Nico were smart, he would say no, actually, it’s like four in the godsdamn morning, go the hell back to your cabin. What is wrong with you.

Instead, he says, “We live in the same neighbourhood, dweeb-face, this is a camp,” and opens his window all the way. Will grins at him, wide and glinting in the dark, and yanks himself in head-first, somersaulting onto the floor and staying there, sprawled on the polished marble floors.

“Hi,” he says again, grin shifting into something more crooked.

Nico breaks away, hiding a smile with rolled eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s ridiculous to want to see you?”

“Before dawn? Yes!”

“Aw.” He settles against the ground, tucking his hands behind his head and letting half lidded eyes trace over Nico’s form, over the sleepy shape of him. Nico shivers. “I was awake, you know. I dreamt of you.”

Cool the fresh hell down, Nico screams at his brain. Out loud, he says, “Shut the fuck up,” and ignores Will’s snickering. How dare he, honestly. For someone who gets clowned as often as he does he is not nearly humble enough. Apollonian genes, indeed.

“What, you don’t dream of me?”

When Will lies, his throat swells up and he breaks out in hives. Nico is at the top of the leaderboard for getting the reaction out of him, with Cecil at a close second and Kayla no slouch in third place. Will is highly manipulable. It’s a good time for everyone around (even Chiron, who is, to his own irritation, lumbering behind at spot #42).

Nico, however, has no such holdups. Nor is he inclined, at any point in time, to fluff up Will’s ego, no matter how he looks when he’s cocky. Nico has self control. Mostly. (Well, at times.)

“Of course not. My subconscious would never do that to me.”

“You’re mean to me, di Angelo.”

“You like it.”

Nico watches, fascinated, as Will’s loudmouth snaps right shut; as his face burns sacred cow right in the low light of the cabin, as he squirms.

“Oh,” he says, gleefully.

“Can it, di Angelo —”

“Oh ho ho ho —”

“I’m gonna curse your ass with haiku disorder, do you know what that is, ‘cause I’ll show you, dickhead —”

Nico crouches down and pokes Will hard in the cheek, and he doesn’t even flinch — he just goes redder. Nico guffaws.

“Dude! Have some — dignity, oh my —”

“Shut up! Shut up! You’re so horrible, gods, I am leaving —”

“Oh, come here.” Will is dragged easily from the windowsill, because he is a big fat faker. There are actual claw marks on the infirmary door from the last time Austin brought Nyssa to drag him out.

“I don’t wanna stay where I’m unwanted,” he laments, bouncing on the bed when Nico shoves him. He takes the inch Nico gives him and burrows deeply under the blankets, throwing a melodramatic hand over his eyes. Nico rolls his own eyes, hoping if he rolls then hard enough Will can tell regardless of whether or not he’s looking, and crawls in after him. He makes sure to kick him at least thrice. “I can take a hint, you know.”

“Medical arts were the wrong career path for you. It’s not too late, you know. I’m sure you could shadow Nicholas Cage or something —”

“I am going to kill you with hammers —”

Nico evades gus clumsy attacks with ease, snickering as he pins him to the bed, smirking when he gives up fighting with a huff.

“I’m glad you came when you couldn’t sleep,” Nico says, after a moment for them to catch their breath. “But the point of that agreement is for you to then shut the fuck up and sleep. Here. So.”

“I’m trying,” Will grumbles. “But you’re being mean and it’s crushing my soul. How am I supposed to sleep with a crushed soul?”

“Oh my gods.”

“Okay, okay! Put the pillow away, jeez, I’m sorry. Meanie.”

Nico rolls his eyes again, settling down next to him. Will takes longer to settle, because he’s annoying, but right before Nico is ready to smack the shit out of him again, he calms down, burrowing stilling once he’s turned on his side.

“…Thank you.”

“Whatever, goober. Go to sleep.”

The smile is obvious in his voice. “Goodnight, Nico.”

“Goodnight, Will.”

“In the morning can we —”

“Goodnight, William.”

“Okay, okay. Night.” He pauses. “Love you.”

Nico shoved his grinning face into his pillow. “Love you too.”

[thedivinershiddenarchive]

— Incubus in the Forest.

cw. fem!reader, incubus!character, dub-con, praise/degradation kink, implications of somnophilia, overstimulation, implied breeding kink, possesiveness (may not fit all characters listed)

a/n. i love going through the gonewildaudio subreddit for fanfiction ideas because i don't have motivation to make my own and my askbox can't peak my interest that much and guess what. i found some incubi content and now i wanna write a thirst about it.

masterlist | tag system | 17- & MASC-ALIGNED DNI!

All you wanted to do was camp with your friends. They were all joking about demons and horror stories and one of them popped up the concept of incubi, talking about how they go through the dreams of women and have sexual intercourse with them that would soon lead to death if the partner has too many sessions.

All of you brushed it off to the person just being weird or downbad. You were part of them because the idea of a demon going through dreams of unconscious women and fuck them in there sounded ridiculous. Thank god it wasn’t real and just a piece of folklore or mythology.

That was what you thought. You wished you were sleeping in the tents of your female friends because the so-called fictional demon was haunting your dream. Or better to call it, ‘Dreams.’

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen a cute girl like you went to this forest. No one ever dared visit here anymore because of those rumored incubi haunting the place. So it’s good that you haven’t heard them.” you frantically looked around, you weren’t in your tent anymore. But in a red Victorian room you aren’t familiar with.

Suddenly, the bed sinks and you look at the source. You faced a man with pointy red horns and a tail that was swooshing around excitedly at the sight of you. His eyes almost lit up as he crawled right in front of you, “I have to say, you look more appetizing up close than watching you from afar.”

He was… watching you? You have to admit he was quite sneaky because the forest wasn’t that big at all nor did it have many trees for people to hide in.

“I might save you since it’s been a while since I’ve gotten someone so… Lovely.” he breathes in your scent, snuggling into your neck and licking it. “Gods, you’re making me crave you more and we haven’t even started yet.”

You gulped, furrowing your brows and gasping as you got pinned to the bed, his fangs biting down your skin as he sucked your blood. He lets out a satisfied groan at your taste, pulling out with his mouth stained with red substance as he seductively licked them. You were trying to push him off while your screams were muffled by his bigger and muscular body.

You tried punching and kicking but he wouldn’t budge. He was much stronger than you are and he only stared at you with a pleasant smirk. He thought this was so entertaining seeing you deny him. Who do you think you were to push away such a handsome guy like him?

“Why don’t we get started? I’m so impatient right now.”

.

.

.

Fuck, you haven’t felt this full in a while. It’s probably because this so called demon was pent-up for a long amount of years that he got hard at the sight of a new victim to fuck.

But since it’ll be a very long time since he’ll get another dupe he was gonna save you and follow you around since you were the first person in a while to visit the forest. The bite on your neck served a purpose and that every time you slept, he’d appear and use you however he wanted.

Though he wanted to be careful since he’ll take your lifeforce away and make you insane. It’s been years since he’s gotten some good pussy to fuck and he didn’t want to harm you in any way. Well, the more the two of you had sessions like this, the more needy you are for the incubus to fuck you.

He was in awe of how much power he had over you. You were much more adorable than all the other women he slept with. He wanted to keep you to himself, even if it meant it would make you a desperate whore for him to play with however he wanted.

He groaned and kept you closer to him, your body flushed with his as he continued ramming you over and over. His tail couldn’t stop moving from how much pleasure he was receiving, he didn’t even know how long he had been fucking you. It must’ve been hours which were just a few minutes in real-time but in this dream? It’s much longer. Which would be quite advantageous if he could be honest.

“Ahah, you’re so good for me. I might wanna keep you for myself.. Might only want you instead. I can’t find anyone whose so fucking slutty like you are.” he moans when you tightened around him more. You were practically choking his cock to death.

He traps you on the headboard, having your legs around his waist so he could have better access to your pussy and have his cock reach deeper inside of you. Ah, it felt so good having him touch places you weren’t able to touch.

The red sheets were stained with your blood and the mix of your and the incubus’ cum. “I can’t get enough of you, sweet girl.” he soughs into your lips, ramming into you like you were the last woman he’s ever gonna fuck.

You couldn’t say anything, hell, you couldn’t do anything from how strong his grip on your body was. It’s almost as if he had control over you instead of you. “Gonna come again, take it like the good slut you are.”

You let out heavy pants as he emptied himself into you again. Your body was shaking against his, your chest heaving uneven breaths as you tried to catch them. He only chuckled and cuddled into you with his arms around your waist, keeping you close to him, making sure his cum doesn’t leak out of you. “Why don’t we go for another round?”

“D-don’t think I can go anymore..” you whimpered as he only grinded his hips in response. “Sure you can! Don’t go sleeping in your dream now, you wouldn’t wanna know what I’d do with your body if you went unconscious on me.”

He was right. If you sleep in your dream, you’ll most likely go through another deeper layer of your unconsciousness and it’ll be difficult to wake you up. You definitely don’t wanna have the knowledge of him using your sleeping body as he wishes, so you try to open your eyes wider and see that same shit-eating grin you despise.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” his little bat wings flapped in excitement as you only threw your head to the side and glared at him. “Don’t be like that, you don’t want me to go rougher on you now.”

“Not like you were gentle in the first place.”

“Hah! I can’t argue with that.” he picks you up, making you straddle his lap as he hovers your hips over his erected cock once again. “Take a deep breath, this is gonna be much longer.”

© notsodivininglover 2023. reposting, plagiarizing, translating or claiming my works are strictly forbiddened.

[rosie-writings]

Collapse Into Me

Request: anon— A honeymoon fic of Colby bringing his wife to Wales like he mentioned on Snapchat during their Europe trip

Summary: Wedding planning polarized you and your family, but it made you realize that Colby’s family is the one you were meant to be in.

Warnings: Colby x Reader smut, Dom/Sub dynamic, Bondage, Overstimulation, Unprotected Sex, and all the warm fluffy feelings

Words: 9k

No Y/N Used

Title is from ‘Telomeres’ by Sleep Token

My hands were shaking, trembling to the bone, and I couldn’t tell if it was due to the cold in the air or that shrill in her voice.

“And so you think it’s a good idea, now?” My eyebrows pushed together at the sight of hers raising. “Of all times, now?”

”I mean, technically not-not now. In February.”

”February?” I didn’t think her voice reached that pitch, but of course it was me who could draw it out of her. “You’re giving yourself four months to plan a wedding? You’re so stupid.”

”Tell me why I’m stupid about this. You haven’t given me a valid reason; you’ve given me ridiculous reasons for why you think I’m stupid about other things, but not this.”

”Because,” she sighed with a twinge in her voice. My eyes grazed the stringy amber brown streaked blonde directionless curls at the end of her wavy hair. The last three inches of them should have been cut off months ago. “You of all people should know that it’s dumb behavior to have a ring on your finger three months into even entertaining the idea of being-of being stuck to someone.” My eyes fell flat.

I never liked the fact that I was five inches shorter than my cousin, but at this moment, I realized that she swung her height clunkily with those heels that used to be in my bedroom. My mom left them on my bed for me when she accidentally bought two sizes too big for herself. Of course I left them in my cousin’s car accidentally on purpose because why would a clan of near-six-foot-tall women leave a size ten shoe for the one who barely hit five foot four. 

“Okay,” my voice shook. “That kind of hurt actually.”

”Yeah; truth hurts. That’s how you know that this is the truth.” If that was the case, I could hurt her a lot right now. I would start with the fact that her eye color never really matched her beloved blue mascara, but that was neither here nor there.

”Well… I’d rather be stuck to him for the rest of my life than you guys.” I looked away and shoved down the burning in my throat. I continued the blame before she could gasp her pitiful response. “I mean, it’s true for you I suppose.”

”It’s true for anyone!”

”You-You hardly know what I want.” The scoff of her thick lips made mine push in a tight line.

”I’ve seen you under the sun enough to know that you’ve daydreamed about your honeymoon being at the beach.” Or maybe I simply day dreamed about a summer vacation without your squeaky voice cutting through the soothing sound of waves—

“I mean, you’re probably just projecting,” I sighed. “At least your skin keeps a tan. It’s just too much work for me to prioritize staying dark.”

“Yeah I know,” she said and I bit my tongue to conceal the roll of my eyes as if my eyes and tongue were connected. “Maybe I should just convince your mom to talk sense into you.”

”I mean, I’ve told her already and you’re the only one who’s given me this amount of shit about it.” Her eyes widened; they yielded a confrontation I wasn’t ready for. 

“Hm,” she sighed. Her eyes scanned me and it felt nice for her to be speechless if even for a second. “Well I still don’t like it.”

”And not everything’s about you.” This time her eyes rolled.

“Where are you even getting married? He has enough money to take you wherever you want and have it done.”

”Pf,” I scoffed because my stomach turned at the sound of her already expecting something from him. “Perhaps, but you damn well know I have enough money to bring all of us anywhere I want to go.” Her eyebrow rose. Only one of them.

”So you’re telling me he’s making you pay?”

”I don’t remember your opinion mattering when it comes to issues between a husband and wife, but go off I guess.” She audibly gasped.

”I’m telling your mom you said that.”

”Do it,” I challenged without blinking. She rolled her eyes. Her stupid car keys flicked over her hand. No one ever told her that the weight of all the senseless chains between far and few keys on the ring could ruin her ignition. She probably pumped her own gas once.

”I will.” She spun on her heel and walked over the edge of the curb. Her hand settled on the handle of that pristine Audi she bought last autumn. Well, she didn’t buy it; follow the money up the chain and it would come from YouTube into my bank account. “Also, I could never see you getting married in the dead of winter. You’d blend in with the snow and dead trees.”

I rolled my eyes because she didn’t know that it made me cry at night when my skin reddened from the unrelenting summer sun.

It didn’t even snow in Southern California.

”Hey,” he said, and the door of the car hardly opened all the way when the sweet sound hit my ears. Despite the tension in my throat, I stifled a wide smile.

”Hi,” I said as I sat down and closed the door. A flick of a millisecond long expression from him told me that I held my breath for too long when I said my greeting. 

“I’m guessing it went…”

”Yeah no,” I sighed as I released the tension in my throat. My fingers etched into the thick leather of his car. His hand found my thigh. My eyes still peeled out the window. “She’s an idiot. They all are.” He was quiet for a moment. Before a smile broke. God, I couldn’t look away from him even if I only drowned on half of his appearance. His eyes were on the road. 

“Sorry, but I anticipated that.” I shook my head.

It was September, and Colby and I got engaged almost a month ago. I waited to tell any of my family until now so that we could breathe and be excited by taking a break at work and partying with friends more than necessary. I knew that it would put yet another ringer between my women dominated family who each had expectations much higher than I did.

Well, my expectation of the actual person I was going to marry clearly was higher than theirs. Their primary focus was the wedding and who their bridesmaids were going to be and where the bachelorette parties would be and where the honeymoon—

Jesus Christ.

Maybe I was the second out of eleven of us getting married—I had three sisters and four first and three second cousins; all of us girls—because I wanted to get it over with. Maybe it sounded sad, and I kind of was, but this sadness was rooted in the stigma they inadvertently forced in me when I was young. I knew I didn’t meet their expectations when it came to the kind of dresses I liked.

Don’t get me wrong; I was no less materialistic than they were. I just liked making my own money and giving myself clothes and dresses devoid of color when I wanted to, unlike the ones their mothers and fathers threw at them in between whiny complaints. They dressed me up one time when I was sixteen; that was when the oldest was married at 25. I wasn’t a bridesmaid because there were too many of us, especially when combined with her two best friends. 

And I wasn’t the flower girl either because I wasn’t the youngest. But if she had asked me to be the flower girl, I would have dressed in a floor length black dress out of spite towards the embarrassment. 

The first time I would be in a wedding would be my own, and I was thoroughly happy about it.

I liked the way—that when Colby’s fingertips dragged up my leg to find my hand, and once found—his own rings clashed with the one he gave me. I also liked the fact that the first ring I ever accepted from someone was his, and also the fact that the first ring to be placed on his ring finger would be the one I would get him. Despite the dozens of rings that adorned his fingers at every second of the day, I knew he deliberately made vacant his ring finger, even if he never explicitly mentioned it. I noticed.

So now we were on the way back to his house. I suspected Sam was back from his morning responsibility and as were other friends considering the amount of food in the backseat. Colby must have picked it up right as he picked me up from the cafe I met my sisters at that morning.

We talked about the engagement at first, and I was smart enough to tell them in public so they couldn’t make too large of a scene. It was my sister who was the happiest. She was two years older than me; the oldest of us four. Two of the three cousins who decided to spend their time on me had to warm to the idea. It was my second oldest sister and the third cousin who stayed later after everyone else left to chew me out about it. 

I was saved by God herself when my sister said she was going to be late for work and left. My cousin didn’t get the memo and didn’t leave in her car until Colby’s had been sitting on the side of the road, since all the parking spaces were taken, for a solid minute. 

It felt like I could breathe everytime I stepped foot in their house. 

Once everything was settled, anyway.

Colby told me the night we were engaged, after the party and after we had been alone for two hours, that he would have proposed to me in the spring, but it took all those months to convince Sam that it was a good idea.

”I never expected you to be the one to convince Sam that marriage could be good; I thought it would be the other way around,” I told Colby when my thumb still twisted the engagement ring on my finger. He laughed.

”I don’t think it would have mattered who was getting married between us; the other one was bound to take months to come to terms with it.”

And I knew it had nothing to do with me. I love their friendship wholeheartedly; I had no complaints about it at all. 

“I really don’t hold any of that-that mess against you, you know?” I shook my head in faux annoyance.

”You don’t have to tell me that everytime I had a standoff with them about you,” I snapped. “I know you don’t. If you did, I wouldn’t be here.” 

“That’s a little much—“

”I mean, even though I fucking hate them sometimes—most of the time—I still couldn’t marry someone who seriously hates them. That’s for me and me only.”

”You take the brunt of them too much.”

”Yeah well,” I sighed as we got to the house, and thanked God for it. “Someone has to and at least I have the patience to not tear their family apart unlike our mothers.” He smiled, and I knew it had nothing to do with what I meant.

Their family, as in, I was already founded by another.

Wedding planning was nice when I was secluded with my friends and when I was with Colby; the anxiety of being without the rest of my family was forgotten. I knew I was different from them, but I didn’t realize how much I was until my own wedding planning turned into a mirror. I also couldn’t stop thinking about my oldest cousin’s wedding; maybe it was a blessing more than a curse that I didn’t have to wear one of those coral bridesmaid dresses that looked stuck in a 2015 Instagram feed.

I really didn’t look good in coral. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t chosen. Or maybe it was the fact that if I chose a dress that would cover my tattoos, it wouldn’t match her aesthetic.

It didn’t matter to me. None of them would be in my wedding.

I take that back; one would, and that was the one who cried when I FaceTimed her two weeks ago. Colby, even, invited her to a party of recent to which she declined but was thankful still for including her. She was a month younger than me. I threatened her to not tell the rest of our family. The fact that I told her was enough; I knew she wouldn’t. 

Maybe there was a certain decibel of venom on my tongue when I talked about my family to the boys, but I was too lethargic to say it to their faces. My family would expect yelling, arguing, and receipts, and at this point, I simply didn’t care enough.

I decided to save the energy for the week the world learned about who was in my ring of bridesmaids. 

“Good thing you only have a few months left of it,” Colby said a bit too happily. I smiled as we grabbed the food and walked into their full house. 

And a few months it was.

I dizzied at the sight of the makeup on my face. To be completely transparent, I tried this look on myself before and I thought I looked decent until a professional artist, obviously, made my version of the look more similar to a newborn digging through its mother’s makeup bag. Two days. Just two more days and it would be over. It guilted me that that was how I felt about wedding planning, but I just wanted to be alone. 

Alone with Colby; how was that different than being alone at this point?

Somehow, the weather caved as if it knew and obeyed the spite in my heart. Thick winterous clouds rolled in last night, and I couldn’t help but smile at them. No longer did I imagine a piercing blue sky over us in our wedding photos. I didn’t fully understand why it made me ecstatic to know that the weather would traditionally be not ideal for a wedding.

Maybe it was the fact that the earth gave me what I wanted.

My mother, three cousins, and one sister complained about how gross it was outside and how they wished the sky would clear up. I silently prayed it wouldn’t. I could have sworn the clouds turned grayer. I knew I wouldn’t get snow in Los Angeles, but my family was right about the fact that I wouldn’t have been able to handle the chill.

And I thought that fluke cool front in September was cold.

“What do you think?” I asked as my best friend walked in the room upon the makeup artist’s request.

”Stop,” she gasped and she smiled ear to ear until the burning I ever so hated coiled in my throat. “I fear I’m going to have to be a bitch to you tomorrow so that we won’t get all sentimental and cry it all off.”

”Good,” I snorted. “Because if I cry I’m punching you in the throat.” I held the mirror and looked at myself. It was the first time I wore makeup that mended with my skin tone. It didn’t look like I stole mud from the earth and rubbed in on my cool skin. I looked more alive and healthy than I did when my sister did my make up, and my heart sped at the idea that each of them would scowl at the eyeliner that might have been a millimeter thicker than the average wedding liner. I don’t know what it was; I didn’t do things out of spite all the time.

It simply looked like spite when I did things for myself.

I saved putting my dress on for tomorrow.

But when tomorrow came, my best friend tied it up for me. Or zipped it. Both, actually. 

The photographer snapped our intimate moments in the women’s getting ready room. My two other friends, my sister, and Colby’s sister including our moms who stopped by for no more than ten minutes accompanied. The silence was a blessing even though we were the furthest from actually staying quiet. I didn’t think I liked other human voices until I met my closest friends.

It ended before I convinced myself it started.

My stomach was in knots until I saw Colby that day, and then I remembered the rest. I blacked out when I was with him, always, and could only remember the things we kept between us. The rest of it didn’t matter. The morning mattered, but the nerves gnawed at them, and when we were together, who cared about the cousin gossiping rows away?

I heard his footsteps before his voice. He took his time, and I didn’t move.

I stood in the room that my bridesmaids and I readied ourselves in nearly an hour ago. 

My lips still buzzed from the feeling of his. We kissed far too many times to count, but it felt like this one counted more than the rest. 

He took more steps towards me.

I noticed my breath as my eyes still peeled out the window. The heavy winter clouds still hung low, and the trees around the venue were almost colorless aside from the nearly black bark that hung on through the stress of winter. The decorations took the place of snow, and I appreciated my best friend’s idea of having black and white be the colors for our wedding, because I couldn’t look away. The red roses displaced here and there warmed the ornate black iron chairs facing the altar, and I imagined what the semi outdoor and indoor reception space appeared like now that people and music filled it. 

He didn’t say anything by the time he stood behind me. His hands found my waist. I still didn’t move.

I knew he came to find me, primarily, but also prepared me for entering the reception hand in hand. I assumed all that was forgotten when he found me here, alone. I didn’t intend on being alone. After photos, my bridesmaids and I came up here to freshen up and they then went off to arrange our entrance. Colby did the same with his groomsmen.

“Fuck off; go find your wife we have business to attend to,” I read Sam’s lips. Colby laughed and didn’t question when a handful of them raced by with cans and markers in their hands. I watched them down below on the porch; butterflies filled me when Colby walked in the front door.

A breath dragged quickly between my teeth when Colby left a trail of slow kisses from my neck to my shoulder. The white lace of my sleeves hardly clung on my shoulder giving him much room. He didn’t take advantage of it for the sake of photos, but I knew he wanted to. I leaned back into his touch, but didn’t take my eyes off the window. 

The ceremony space was fully empty now; the last few guests made it to the reception space.

“As much as I’m contemplating taking you here and fucking you on every surface of this room, I’m not sure you would appreciate me messing up your makeup before we go to the reception.”

My face burned, oh it burned, I didn’t look at him or else his pestering smile would make it worse.

”Bring me downstairs then,” I laughed and turned to him finally. I hardly looked at him before his lips were on mine. My arms wrapped around his neck, ever pulling him tighter. I breathed him in as he tasted me.

Maybe my wine red lipstick was transfer proofed on purpose, but a tiny part of me wished it wasn’t because his new ring wouldn’t be the only symbol of claim on him.

”Come on,” he said, and his hand slipped in mine. 

I tasted him through the reception.

Through pictures, dances, cake, and conversations; I didn’t think a mouth could be so memorable.

”What?” I gasped when I butted in the boys’ conversation at the end. Sam looked at me with wide drunken eyes that buzzed from the thrill of the night.

”Uh—We were reminding Colby to just chill out and take a breath before seeing his car and probably have it washed before you do anything else or else he’d have to get a new paint job tomorrow.”

”Jesus Christ,” Colby laughed. 

And after we left the venue, we did just that. I didn’t know that shaving cream could eat away at car paint but there we were.

My ears rang after the car doors were shut, and my breathing caught in my chest.

We were alone. 

We had been alone and spent many nights sleepless and breathless, but none of them amounted to that night, that moment. I couldn’t pinpoint why, I just knew.

He didn’t say anything in the minutes it took to reach the freeway. My palm burned against his. His fingertips raced up my palm and invaded the lace that started at my wrist. Chills electrified up my arm from where his fingertips touched, and I didn’t move away from them. 

My head spun with every step, and before I knew it, we walked into the hotel suite booked if only for a handful of hours. Until our flight. I walked in, my breathing definitely not under control, and he haphazardly set our bags down. I felt his eyes on me, and before I could turn around, I heard his quick steps. I broke into a smile when his hands reached me, and he spun me around harshly for himself.

His hand held my face, and no longer was his touch filled with care for my appearance. No, it was filled with a vengeance to touch, to please, to get near. He licked into my mouth and I gave and gave, his hands didn’t leave any part of my body untouched, even as we stood there.

And then he fell to his knees.

My breath left me as he looked up darkly from where he descended. As I drew a breath to ask what he was doing, hands slowly snaked up my legs. 

“Colby,” I hummed his name. There wasn’t much of a skirt to my dress; it was more a-line than anything, but the thin layers of fabric were soft, durable. My skin crawled at the sound of it brushing against the sleeve of his thick jacket. He still hadn’t changed a thing about his appearance since the ceremony. Maybe his jacket came off at some point while dancing, but we could see our breaths in the air outside.

”Oh—“ I couldn’t contain my hums, moans, and noises as his fingertips trailed up my skin, and when he dove under my dress and used his mouth on me instead, I saw stars.

I couldn’t remember another word other than his name. I felt it too; the hum of his own moans against my thighs. What on earth took him so long? I was torn in two. A part of me needed to feel every part of him now, but the other wanted to stay here forever and let him touch and kiss every cell of my body.

The muscles in my stomach tensed the moment his fingers grabbed the top of one of the garters around my thigh and he snapped it back. My hand reflexively pushed his head and he laughed. I thought he would take it off, but no. His retaliation was shoving me by the hips to sit on the edge of the bed behind me. 

Instead, his lips and tongue dove right where I ached for him.

With a gasp, I tried to handle what I felt, but I couldn’t. He didn’t even move to take off the lace that was probably ruined with my arousal and had been for hours now. Then a few fingertips dipped behind the side of it and I preened at the feeling of his cool fingerprints in my unbearable heat.

“Colby—“ I gasped yet again, but he didn’t wait up. Two fingers dove into me. He knew how ready I was; he probably knew from the look in my eyes alone. Then he whispered something against me that I couldn’t make out. He shoved the lingerie out of his way, and I gasped at the tough stretch of the lace in my inner hip. His tongue was on me, his mouth worked me and sucked me sweetly as his fingers slowly moved in and out.

My head hit the bed as I gave up any power I had. 

Then he gasped and breathed heavily as he pushed my skirt up higher. It pooled across my hips, and I rose to my elbows so I could finally see his pretty face. It was flushed, and his eyes were dark and hazy.

Those hands grabbed my thighs, and the pressure fueled my lust must have left bruises in their wake. I yelled his name as he dove back down into me, and I finally was able to string my fingers through his messy hair. 

I chanted his name like a prayer and I felt moans and words in between my legs again. No part of me could find the mess he made of his mouth, my heat, repulsive in any way even though I know I would scrub us clean in a handful of time.

”Oh my god, I’ll come already,” I gasped. Of course this fueled his movements. My voice broke into higher whines, and he didn’t complain if I yanked on the roots of his hair too tightly.

He licked me through my orgasm even as I shook through violent aftershocks. 

He shot to his feet.

”Please—“ I gasped. His eyes didn’t come off mine as he unbuckled his belt. I did, though, I took my eyes off his eyes, and I launched forward. Even though it may have taken more time than if he did it, he allowed my excitement to fumble with the button and zipper of his pants. I felt his gaze on top of me, and his hand stroked in alignment with the currents of my hair. It was pinned behind me loosely where rivers of strands wound elegantly.

My heart raced at the feeling of his rough, and respectfully gentle hand warmly brushing and leading me without messing up my hair. I wanted him to, though. God, I wanted him to ruin my hair.

Ruin my makeup. 

I pulled him from his pants, and a river of uneven breaths flowed from him. He hummed my name when I took him in my mouth.

”Just-Just want inside you,” he whispered. I ignored him and laced my gaze with his as I went down on him over and over. His eyes rolled back and my body surged deeper around him when pleasure overcame him. I might have gone faster, might have gotten ahead of myself— “Alright, alright,” he gasped. He grabbed himself and pulled me by the hair. I gasped when I came off of him.

He shoved me down to the bed. 

I looked up at him, and he didn’t move us. He didn’t take another article of clothing off us.

I couldn’t speak, and from the look in his eyes, he clearly couldn’t either. His heart raced; I could tell by the way his breath escaped him in and out unevenly. He shoved my lingerie to the side again.

Like every time his body mended with mine, he filled me to the brim. 

“Love you—“ He gasped so lowly I hardly heard him. “Mine, you’re all mine.”

”And you’re mine,” I whined when he thrusted harshly. We didn’t leave room for teasing. He didn’t want to waste another second—not that any of the many seconds of the day were wasted—but what else was each glance we sent each other on this day other than teasing, foreplay.

God, I undressed him with my eyes dozens of times today alone.

His hands raced down my legs, pushed them back and spread them further apart. Eyes tore me to shreds. His face strained with pleasure, and I had to hold onto the duvet tightly since I couldn’t read what I wished to.

”God—fucking—in the way—“ He cut himself off with a tear.

He didn’t want to take off any of my clothes, no, he wanted to savor the sight of this day on my skin, so he tore the side lace of the lingerie slightly so that he didn’t catch on the tightness of it. I gasped some tension released, and he was able to find better leverage.

”I love you, I love you—holy shit—you’re mine.” This time he leaned forward with one of my legs hooked over his arm.

”I’m yours,” I repeated.

”I’m going to cum in you and you’re going to stay filled with it until the morning,” he said. I thought his hand wrapped around my throat, but that was just my visceral reaction. 

“Colby,” I gasped his name breathlessly. “Need you in me forever.”

It was quick, and I didn’t realize until later how calculated it was.

After he filled me, he recovered me with the tight white lingerie—albeit slightly ripped now—and his release couldn’t slip out. My body trembled under his touch, his gaze, and he kissed me like he meant it at the altar. He always did.

”Sit up,” he gasped. I obeyed and looked up at him for the next direction. Instead of making a command, he walked over and sat behind me on the bed. His hands were hot and sweaty, his breath still quick. 

Then, his hands started working on the laces and zipper of my dress. It took him a second, but he learned and released me from the dress slowly. A part of me wanted to rush him, but this was it. The first and the last time he would take this dress off of me. When it was undone, his fingers uncovered my shoulders; fingers grazing my inked skin behind the falling lace.

Colby stood in front of me as I too raised to my feet and he pushed down my dress. I stepped out of it. When he went to worship the rest of my body that he neglected, I cut him off. I grabbed his face and kissed him. I savored his moans against my tongue before I licked into his mouth. His hands were on me. They fell down my bare sides, ran over the roughness of the lace lingerie over my hips, and raced back up over my shoulders, my chest.

I pulled away. 

Without looking away from the eyes I swam in every day, I loosened his tie and pulled it off. Then his jacket. 

My fingers worked and unclasped the buttons of his button up. With each one I unbuttoned, I kissed down his skin. I felt the way he shuddered under my breath, my lips, and I was reminded all over again the real effect I had on him. His heart beat erratically, his breath wavered.

I kissed all the way down his body until I was on my knees. The shirt slipped from his shoulders. He pulled from his shoes and pushed them away. Then I pulled his pants off fully; obviously they were already unbuckled.

He moaned my name, and somehow this was more intimate than him putting his cum in me.

”Come here,” he said before I could take his underwear off. I stood. He kissed me again, but he pulled me. His lips pulled me, his hands.

I followed him into the bathroom.

Looking back on it, every decision he made was calculated. He always allowed me my fun, but he never skipped a step or a plan. 

Colby flicked the light in the bathroom on and he pulled the stool at the wide granite sink away for me. I sat and looked at myself in the mirror. 

A flush matched my messy makeup and painted my skin. For as dressed as my hair and face were, my body sat completely bare. Naturally I considered cowering away, but he would never allow that. I froze as he stood behind me and ever so gently, began pulling the hair pins from my hair and setting them on the sink.

Pretty sure I melted then and there as if nothing that had just happened, happened.

I watched his face as he focused. With every pin, a strand of hair cascaded down my skin. Goosebumps spread over the touches. He kept the hair down my back and didn’t allow it in front of me. I knew that was on purpose; I would have covered my nipples with the strands.

When my hair was completely free, he left the bathroom.

”Colb—“ He immediately returned with my bag. He opened it. He grabbed the smaller bag inside of it knowing my brush and makeup remover were in it.

I could have been shaking from the chill in the bathroom, but I think it was from the warmth that pooled in between my legs in my underwear. I knew my eyes were darkened with thoughts. I looked up at him in the mirror as he brushed my hair. 

The fact that his cum pooled in my underwear while he did the sweetest, gentlest thing he had ever done for me turned this into the filthiest memory I had.

He must have known that this memory would get me on his knees for him every day for the rest of our lives.

“Stop that,” he finally broke the very long silence. I don’t think we ever sat in such a long silence without one of us sleeping.

”Stop what?” My voice caught. We ignored it.

”Staring at me like you’re going to eat me or something.” I laughed.

”Obviously,” I mumbled as I rolled my eyes away. He laughed at the heated blush on my face.

”God, you’re so beautiful. Insane in my hands.” He left the brush on the counter. “Take off your makeup and we’ll go lay down, okay?”

”Okay,” I nodded.

I knew he wanted to shower, but he wanted me to sleep with his cum in me more.

After I was finished cleaning my face, he shoved me back down on the stool. I gasped when he got on his knees in between my thighs. Darkly, his eyes glanced up at me for a moment and then he looked at my skin where he touched me.

As his fingers drenched the skin of my legs, he tugged the garter on my thigh off with his teeth. His breath left hot chills trailed behind.

When the early sun woke me up, I realized he purposely didn’t draw the curtains so we could wake up without an alarm but still on time. We woke up very much so on time; we didn’t need to leave for the airport for another three hours. It was six am. I opened my eyes and rolled to him. His body was on fire, and my skin writhed at the feeling of his hard he was against me already. Before he choked out his first word, I straddled him. 

“Baby,” he moaned, hands rested on my hips. I still wore my underwear like he wanted. His eyes fell down my body and landed on my underwear. “Off. Need these off now,” he demanded as he played with the frayed edges of the tear he caused. I raised my hips and pulled them down. His refreshed eyes didn’t miss a second of my body that was revealed from under the white fabric.

”Holy shit—“ he gasped, and that was how I realized we mixed—our fluids mixed—in between my legs and still connected my underwear to me. He didn’t spend another word. He threw the lingerie aimlessly and grabbed my hips with a force, a dominance, he didn’t use last night. I squealed as he yanked me back down on his lap. 

My eyes rolled back when we both thrusted my hips across him; up and down.

And when he filled me, when he shoved me down on him, I rode him until we both neared tears and more of his cum stuffed inside of me. The sun had barely awakened the city.

He washed my hair and my body in the shower that morning, and I was glad I woke us up so early so that our third round in seven hours was under that hot shower rain. It was less the rain that washed clean our mess between my legs and more his tongue. More within this night had he fallen to his knees for me than I could remember. So, naturally, I fell on my knees for him after.

We stood at the wide mirror and talked as we got ready.

Our flight to Wales was in an hour and a half.

And my stomach was in knots.

It was difficult to wrap my mind around the fact that this was the true start of the rest of our lives together, and not only that, we were on our way to an entirely different country alone to stay alone for a week without distractions. We’ve traveled together before, but I knew that nothing was about to compare to this.

Only through TSA did he pull his hand away from mine.

I didn’t even think about it.

Not even a millisecond of time was spent worrying about anyone else. Not our families, our friends, or our work took up a second of space in my head. I was torn apart for choosing the honeymoon location. While discussing it with Colby, we realized that we both already wanted to come here. He had been here with Sam before once while on their Europe trip. This country was simply romanticized in my head by the books I enjoyed.

The grass was infinitely greener than I anticipated considering the chilling weather. When I touched the grasses and blades of bristles that show from the soft earth, they weren’t soft or warm, and I snapped my hand back with a smile. 

The room was blue, I think; more windows spanned the walls of the bedroom than an actual expanse of drywall. The spindles of the bed were high and came together only a hair from the ceiling with white satin draped past the plush duvet. My fingers grazed the stitches in the duvet cover. He was behind me. 

I figured we would get accustomed to this house in a few hours. 

We would get accustomed to each others’ bodies again in the meantime.

First, his hands raised to my waist like they did so often.

Then he spun me around violently; that same gentleness must have run thin from our hours of travel. The sun set behind the horizon already and orange bands through the winter clouds were the only light in the dim room.

He kissed me again and without being able to see, my sense of touch was heightened to the max.

My back hit the bed and my pants slid down; I wasn’t sure which came first. The next thing I knew, he was over me, and his hand supported himself next to my head. I only made out his silhouette as my hands touched every part of it. 

“Oh fuck—“ he gasped when my hands harshly invaded the top of his pants before he could remove them himself. I couldn’t not say his name; at this point it was a habitual moan for me.

He kissed my neck and shoved my arms to the bed on either side of me. I didn’t even try to stop the embarrassing sounds that poured from me when he harshly fucked his hips into me at the same time that his teeth hooked on my skin. Now he could leave his mark. I knew he suffered the past month not being able to leave his love marks all over my body for people to see for the sake of photos. I yanked his shirt off forcefully before he dove back into tasting my skin.

He needed to make it up to me. There was a month of aggression, possession and need to touch, to claim. 

“Fuck me,” I demanded. His breath hitched in his throat and the pressure from his hips doubled. “Fuck me so hard, Colby. I swear to God—“

I screamed when he suddenly pushed into me and didn’t give me a second to process.

”No need to beg, baby,” he hummed; his voice darkly quiet in my hair. I didn’t remember when he pulled himself from his underwear or when he moved mine. It was all too fast. He fucked the moans out of me. I thought my vision went blurry.

He raised to his feet and I realized that this was the second time we hardly made it to the bed since being married. 

“Feel so good,” I whispered with moans broken by his thrusts.  

“Get up,” he demanded. I tried to sit up, but I couldn’t. It was all too much. “Get up,” Colby spat and his hand linked around my neck and he yanked me up. I gasped and open mouthed kisses shared between our panting breaths. I rolled my hips into him and his eyes shut tightly.

”Turn over.”

Shaking gasps poured from me from the fire lit butterflies that those simply words shoved down my throat. I turned over. My knees almost fell to the floor, but he hoisted me up and shoved back into me.

”Oh my god, Colby!” And a loud lengthen moan streamed from him. I balled the blankets in my fists when he raised one of my knees onto the edge of the bed for a better angle. 

I didn’t just see blurry, stars and colors swirled behind my eyes as well.

”Holy shit, my pretty wife, taking me so well.” I could have passed out from his words alone. Then his fingers grabbed me by the roots of my hair.

He yanked. My back bent backwards and I felt him push kisses and moans against my head, my neck. God, it was so rough too. It had only been a month since the last time he fucked me with that desperation of wanting to leave a piece of him inside, but it felt like the first. His other hand left bruises and purple crescent moons in my hips, my ass.

”Fucking hell—Get up, lay on the bed,” he finally broke and pulled out of me. So of course I scrambled to lay my head on the pillows naturally if it meant he wouldn’t be inside of me again until I obeyed. I watched as he grabbed things from his bag. “Will you give me your wrists?”

”Fuck,” I gasped and my hands shot above my head. “Yes, yes, yes.” And he laughed at my enthusiasm. He tugged my shirt off. 

A gasp sucked through his teeth fast enough that I knew they burned from the chill.

Even in the dark, his eyes devoured the way my fair skin contrasted with the dark lingerie that laced over my chest. He yanked my pants off the rest of the way and his eyes fell lower.

”You wore this all day?” He gasped.

”I put it on when I went to the bathroom in the airport.” A deep breath slowly left him. Then he leaned over and clicked on the lamp that sat on the table next to the bed.

The orange glow drenched my body, and I writhed under his intense gaze. I knew he ripped the thick lace apart in his mind. I waited and waited for him to actually do it.

Instead, he grabbed something he laid on the bed a second ago. The world stopped spinning when he lifted his wine red tie and wrapped it around my hands and a portion of the frame of the bed below the headboard. My heart was in my throat; the same tie he wore when he sealed our marriage with a kiss in front of our closest friends and family was now the fabric that tied me down to his bed. Our bed. It didn’t matter what physical bed we were in; it was ours.

”Pull, baby,” he sighed. The way his voice was smooth like he talked me to sleep as if he wasn’t tying me down thinking of all the ways he could rip my clothes off. I tested the makeshift cuffs but we knew it didn’t matter; he was entirely proficient in tying me down.

Fingers started at my throat and they painfully slowly dragged down my skin. Chills waved down my cold skin in their wake, and he rounded my heat and followed the band of lace that dipped an inch lower down my rib cage. The strap of matching lace around my waist that hooked onto my matching underwear were what his eyes drowned on next. He tugged on one of the stretchy bands that connected them and snapped it back. I winced.

”You’re going to kill me,” he simply said. I nodded like that’s what I intended. 

I held my breath when he picked up my vibrator from the bed.

”Colby—“

”Sh,” he said with finality. The vibrator hummed to life. “You’re not about to tell me what to do, right?” I shook my head furiously.

He shoved it against me over the lace.

I gasped and my back arched. His hand held my side; thumb stroked across the lace.

”So fucking hot, holy shit,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

”Why-Why are you holding back?” I moaned.

”You don’t want me to? I won’t be nice.”

”Tear me apart, Colby.” His eyes darkened, unblinking. “Do you not want to use me? Claim your wife?” His nails jutted into my skin and I gasped a moan.

He turned the vibrator onto the highest setting.

I screamed. My eyes rolled to black as the pleasure washed over me—more so drowned me under tons of ocean weight—and he firmly held my hips down and pressed it tighter against me.

”You want me to use you?” My skin crawled. His voice still hardly trespassed a whisper. “How could I expect anything else from my slutty wife, hm? Tied to my bed, dressed like a whore, and begging for me and teasing me with that filthy mouth?” 

“Colby—“ I gasped with a shaking seriousness.

”What? Realizing you bit off more than you could chew?”

”Colby—“ I warned him, loudly this time.

”Cum,” he demanded. “You wanna act like my slut? Then cum for me.” 

That’s what I warned him about; I was too glad that he demanded from me what I couldn’t control.

My climax blinded me and the pleasure only lasted for a breath before overstimulation stung me. He didn’t budge though. Not as I writhed, kicked, and tried to twist away from him.

”You fucking kick me again and I’m tying your legs down too.” I couldn’t even respond to that jeer. His voice picked up now and a sick part of me couldn’t get enough of it.

“Please,” I begged. “Can’t breathe—“

”You know our safe word,” he teased. My mouth closed. He scoffed. “What I fucking thought. Just a dumb slut who wants me to ruin her.”

“I’ll be so-be so good for you, please! Your fingers—Give me your fingers, please!”

”God you sound so pretty crying for me to fill you,” he sighed as his head lulled to the side. Completely enthralled; his eyes only blinked as much as necessary.

Moving my underwear to the side just enough for his fingers, Colby’s lips parted as he teased my slick entrance.

”Plea—“ He pushed three inside of me. “Oh shit,” I gasped. “Oh shit, yes, yes please.”

”You love it, hm? Love it when I fill you? Fuck you senseless?”

”Yes! I love it, I love it so much.” I tightened around him when the waves of pleasure built again. He shook his head quickly before the words even started.

”Don’t cum.”

”What?” I gasped. “Col—“

“No, I said don’t cum. You told me you wanted me to fill you and fuck you, so how about you take it first? Then maybe I’ll be nice if you cry hard enough.”

He wasn’t wrong. Tears already flooded my eyes.

Colby leaned over me. His lips hovered just out of reach. They parted as if he breathed too heavily to contain himself, and a parted smile shined down at me when I couldn’t gather myself. I whined when I couldn’t kiss him or touch him or reach him. I could only feel him the way he wanted me to.

”Please,” I gasped quietly.

”Please what?” His soft voice whispered. My eyes shut tightly, a tear fell. I wouldn’t be able to see that cute smile and listen to that gentle tone without imagining his fingers fucking me harshly and his other hand pinning a violent vibrator against me.

”Let me cum.”

”You’re not demanding me to let you cum, are you?” He asked as his eyebrows furrowed with question.

”N-No, please, Colby, please let me cum on your fingers, please.”

“Aw you sound so sweet, baby, trying to sound like my good girl?” The teasing made it unbearable. Yes, the vibrator made me lose my sense of self, but that venomous teasing gave it to Colby. Everything that I am was in his hands, his control.

“Yes! Been so good for you let me-let me cum already I can’t-I can’t control it—“

”Good thing you’re not supposed to,” he said. “I’m the one who tells you when to cum, okay?”

”Yes-Yes Sir, you-you—Please! I’m so good for you, wait-wait for you—“ I lost control of my voice.

The pain from the overstimulation dissipated.

My hands didn’t pull on the restraint anymore.

Colby kissed me sweetly. His lips and tongue left soft kisses down my neck.

”Yeah, that’s right, good girl,” he whispered calmly. He moaned and looked down in between us before he rose to his knees again. “You’re so good for me, so beautiful, so perfect. Fucking cum—oh my god—cum for me, baby,” he finally told me. And I let go.

I moaned his name and I fully relaxed into it, into the pain and the pleasure, and everything he gave me. I knew I drenched him. I added to our mess. I couldn’t tell if he lost control of himself or if I blacked out, but the next thing I knew, he finally filled me again.

”Holy shit—Colby—“ I cried. Finally his moans met my ears, and I almost crashed into that pool of pleasure all over again.

He fucked me as harshly as his fingers just had, and I watched his sweaty face twist in pleasure through blurry tears. 

His free hand moved to my throat; his forearm rested on my chest for support. I whispered his name. Another warning.

”You going to cum one more time for me, my love?” He gasped breathlessly. “I’m so close, will you cum with me?” I nodded quickly even though I didn’t want this to end. I lost track of time when his body made itself home in mine. ”Oh shit!” He finally broke and raised himself to his knees. 

I watched as he raced a hand through his hair; fingers tugging at the roots as his eyes watched where he entered me.

”Cumming—“ I cried and his eyes flicked to mine for a moment.

The height of my orgasm hit me then he pulled out. I rode it out on the vibrator as his moans became music in my ears. He finished himself off; painted me with his release.

It took work for me to hold my eyes open. Between the pleasure and the way he looked painting me with his cum, I couldn’t really believe there was a heaven better than this one.

And he turned the vibrator off.

He sat on his knees in between my useless legs and panted. 

I didn’t object when he grabbed his phone from his pants pocket and took a flashed photo high enough to capture his chest down to my ruined body and my hands tied up to the bed. I opened my eyes when the flash was over and he fell over me; hand supported him next to my head. He showed me the photo with bated breath.

My throat coiled in on itself at the disgusting filth he captured. He was still enticingly hard, flushed pink, and I couldn’t tear my eyes from the sight of his cum ruining my lingerie. My mouth watered at the pearly streaks of white that contrasted on the black lace and black ink on my fair skin under the lingerie. The red of his tie only enhanced the flush over my skin. Thin faintly black tears raced down my face.

I was a mess.

A disgusting mess that somehow made my knees weak all over again.

”You’re such a good artist, husband.” The phone fell to the blanket under us as he burst out laughing.

His thumb linked under my chin when he kissed the life out of me.

”Needed to at least put my signature on my work, yeah?” I laughed back at him and he planted more kisses on me. Then he untied my hands. 

They fell to the bed and my eyes widened. I still hadn’t gained much control over my body.

”It’s okay,” he whispered and brushed my hair, my sides.

”I know,” I sighed as I rose from my subspace. 

“I’m right here, love. Always right here.” He kissed my skin as I came to.

”Is it gross that I don’t really want to shower?” Colby laughed again.

”I’m not sure,” he teased and sat back to his knees to look at my body again. “I mean, if you take a shower with me I’ll wash you for you.”

”Yeah, with your tongue like you did this morning?” A fond smile.

”I’ll wash you, I’ll touch you, and I’ll make you feel good however you want, my wife.” I smiled. We both couldn’t get used to—get over—the titles.

”Fine, then carry me to the bathroom, my husband.” 

✧˖*°࿐

Taglist (Comment to be added):

@a-random-google-user

[kairiscorner]

Hey! I'm sorry, I saw you wanted Haikyuu requests and my brainrot is plaguing me with this though.

Ok so, imagine with me: You are dating Asahi or Kita and whereas he is calm at times. You are the complete opposite! You're basically climbing walls, biting him and sometimes jumping on him at random times.

I'm sorry I just love the idea of a calm man and feral partner or maybe it's just self indulgent

OMGGGGGGG YES PLEASE, THEY'RE MY DARLINGS AND THEY WOULD BE ABSOLUTELY SMITTEN WITH A PARTNER LIKE THAT IMO also i'm sorry i defaulted the reader to be fem, this just struck me as a wonderful idea to make pt 2 of "his girl"! though i will give them they/them pronouns, unless you'd like for me to change it!

his girl. (part 2)

summary: nobody would have thought that your chaotic ass could be dealt with; well, one can only be surprised at the fact that he's able to be the mediator to your chaos... or, rather, the enabler (sometimes!) he just can't say no to you, his cute little partner.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ asahi azumane

many would be surprised to see this mature looking high school third year, a giant of a high school third year, actually having a soft heart underneath all his muscles and intimidating looks. he was just the sweetest, and you could vouch for it—because he really had a hard time saying no to you and your antics.

sure, you were smaller than him (and the much cuter one in the relationship, in his eyes) though you were like a firecracker; going off whenever everyone least expected it and just doing what you wanted at any given time.

sugawara and daichi were always worrying for the big man, he was responsible, though when handling you, he'd melt into a big puddle of shyness and utter affection whenever you'd peck a kiss on his cheek or give him a hug. you could never keep your hands off him, to the point that when you were being so clingy to him one time, he came into practice looking all bashful, with you riding on his back, gently biting at his reddening cheeks that just kept blushing due to how cute and loving you were being to him.

he can never get used to how much love your smaller self had for him, he can't take all the love you could give, though he was always willing to take it all and give you all of his love for you. you always surprised him with how hyper you could be, but that was part of the wonderful, lovable package that was you.

"i know, they can get... a bit too much sometimes, but i love them like that, and that'll never change." he'd gush to sugawara and daichi, to which they'd nod and sigh. 'he's completely smitten with them, isn't he?'

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ shinsuke kita

to faze kita is to be an absolutely feral person that nobody, not even the miya twins, could rival in having the most ridiculous antics; and that person was... of course, you. he was a straightforward, seemingly perfect, honors student; the no-nonsense captain of inarizaki's male volleyball team, and, surprisingly, your boyfriend.

he does everything on his own time, everything for every hour of every day had a schedule—everything was predictable because everything has a natural flow to follow, kita believed, until you came into his life and turned his oh-so organized life upside down. your chaotic nature could not be controlled, kita could only do so much to keep you in check—such as personally attending to you whenever he can to make sure you didn't do anything rash nor hurt yourself by accident.

he was always a worrier, much like daichi, and he could never settle down to think until you were safe and sound, not causing any chaos nor finding yourself in any chaos. he did respect your independence and never sought to control your actions, though all he hoped to teach you was self-control and moderation, that you can be as chaotic as you want with him, but make sure not to hurt others nor yourself when doing so.

he has said to you before, you can do whatever you feel like with him, just make sure not to hurt yourself or others—so you did just what you felt like doing when kita was mopping the floors of the gym. you rushed up to him, screamed his name all loudly and sweetly, and jumped on his back. gin, aran, suna, and the twins were there when it happened, and of course, they were all partially shocked to see that kita didn't budge at you lunging at him.

suna filmed you kissing down his neck as kita held your legs in place so you wouldn't fall, and steadied your grasp on him. "my love, i did say you could do what you want with me, but what i meant by that was behind closed doors." he reminded you with a stern, yet soft, voice. he could never raise his voice, especially not towards you, his beloved. mopping the floors would have to be rescheduled for later in the day, looks like right now, kita would be taking you outside to piggy back ride you as you smothered him with all your affection. the most unpredictable part of his days are always with you; they're always the most exciting part of his days.

[stargirlrchive]

cw: miguel o’hara x gn!ai reader (lyla-core), m!masturbation (barely), horny lonely miguel who wants you bad :( — wc: 670

Miguel let out an exasperated breath as he laid himself on his bed. To say the stress was finally getting to him was the understatement of the century. His back ached with all the responsibility of the multiverse on his shoulders. Both literally and figuratively.

That mingled with his loneliness, it was making him all the more fatigued. He was so starved in every romantic and sexual aspect and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat bitter.

His exhaustion almost made him ignore the way his cock began to throb. Wishing there was someone who would just let him lay back and do all the work.

Miguel’s face blazed with heat as only one person came to mind. You. His AI assistant, whom he created. Perfect in every way but not sentient. He could not touch you, nor kiss you.

God — he was going insane.

He had created you in the hopes to have someone who could basically read his mind, to know what he needs before he even said it. But it catapulted into something so much more, you were so much more. He didn’t even mean to but as he created your physical form he made you in his liking. You were perfect physically, but he didn’t think the attraction he had for you would be much of an issue.

What he didn’t account for was his own intelligence, he somehow left liberty for you to have your very own personality and you were a fucking brat.

You loved to tease him, and wear ridiculous little outfits, he couldn’t stand it. The first time you rolled your eyes at him his cock pulsed so violently in his suit he felt dizzy.

His thumb softly began to trace the outline of his cock over his sweats, your lips coming to the forefront of his mind as he teased himself. He could perfectly picture your lips curling up to send him a snippy remark as he cupped himself.

A quiet grunt left his mouth at the weight of his hand as he palmed his cock, he felt pathetic. He didn’t even register pulling his length out of his sweats until his hand wrapped around the base. His thumb gently smeared the pre-cum from his tip down the expanse of his cock as your name left his mouth shamefully.

In the next instant he felt himself jolt as you appeared in front of him. He swore he was hallucinating, his mind indulging in his desires because you popped out from his watch, in nothing but a skimpy towel covering you.

“Are you alright?”

Miguel was quick to tuck himself back in, “Fine. What are you doing here?”

Miguel’s scowl had returned and it caused you to roll your eyes, his cock pulsed.

“Your heart rate was accelerated. Came to make sure you were okay.”

There was a beat of silence and Miguel felt almost shameful to have you in front of him. He wanted to hear your voice coax him to an orgasm so terribly. His thumb had subtly begun to trace his covered cock again as his face scrunched up to see your short towel.

“Why are you in a towel? You can’t even shower.”

“You don’t know what I do while you’re offline.”

A breathless laugh left Miguel’s throat as he mumbled quietly, ‘Maybe you should show me then.’

“Huh?”

“Nothing-nothing.”

Your arms crossed over your chest as your face scrunched up in annoyance, “Miguel, you know I hate when you mumble! I can never understand you.”

Fuck — you were making this so hard, the soft pout of your lips had Miguel’s mind running wild.

“I said I’m fine. Now leave me alone.”

You huffed softly, “Fine-just know it’s not good to leave your little problem alone. It can lead to severe discomfort and swelling. The best remedy is ejaculation-“

Miguel slammed his watch off, his face burning in embarrassment. He swore you did this shit on purpose.