#he was forced to say that in the first one </3

[crookedteethed]

18+ various kinks, slight smut, hints of dub con/non-con kink

⋆ ★ Thinking about the Rafe's and their specific kinks <3

Season One Rafe would so be into doing lines of coke off your body--bonus points if you are about to do it behind the big rock at the beach or on his balcony during one of his Kook parties because he's also a bit of an exhibitionist. 

It felt decadent to Rafe to pull out your perfectly plush tits (or your ass) and sprinkle a bit of that angel dust down the valley of your breast. He wouldn't snort it immediately; he'd wait until he had his thick length inside your sopping wet cunt--and then he'd snort the line, engulfed in your deliciousness. 

Fuck did Rafe love your body, but fuck did he love coke--so why not mix the two?

Rafe had adorned the thrill he got when he got that first hit of blow mixed with the thrill he got when he'd first plunged into your cunt; it often made him want to fuck you harder until your nose bleed.

If he couldn't fuck you hard enough until your nose bleed, he would settle for bruising your skin with big love bits and hickies--it had something to do with his male ego.

In a way that was larger then just decadence, Season One Rafe loved the thrill he gotten for knowing he has and will be the only man that's been inside you.

Like all the times he would purposely brush your gums with coke on his fingers, and then put you in a jaw gripping kiss, just to lick your mouth clean, all while sitting across from Kelce and Topper.

He loved the power it gave him knowing he was the only person that could use you like this.

Season Two Rafe always found himself palming or adjusting his cock at your innocence.

I mean, fuck, how could he not get hard when you're kneeling on your knees in front of him, wide eyes and mouth full of his cock, asking him, "Like this?" Because you've never sucked dick before. 

And though Rafe did love the more skilled girls--he loved how he never had to tell them what to do--Rafe also had loved your naiveness and your naiveness with a cock. 

Did you sometimes use your teeth when blowing him? Maybe. 

But it's not like Rafe could scorn you about it; he knew that you simply didn't know any better, and that's why Rafe was the one to be your first everything so he could teach you better.

Apart from Rafe and his attraction to your innocence, he also had a kink for destroying that innocence. 

Fuck he thought he was going to bust his load when he finally coerced you into doing coke for the first time. 

Rafe had been low himself, so he wanted to make someone who could be low with him. (It's true what they say about misery-liking company.) 

Like the time in Season Two when Rafe had taken your virginity, yeah, you cried and kept whimpering to him, "it hurt." or "stop" but all of that was just ammunition to him; he loved to consume something so pure and innocent and ruin it for nobody else to have it--like what had happened to him.

Season Three Rafe would have a breeding kink. I mean, it goes hand in hand with his "man of the house" mentality. 

There is no doubt about it: Rafe is a thrill seeker--it's why he does coke or purposely picks fights. 

Fucking you without a condom was such a thrill to Rafe--it was like playing Russian roulette, but the chances of him getting shot were the chances of him getting you knocked up (which he didn't mind). 

But what had turned him on was after shooting his cum inside of you, it was so hot for Rafe to force his cum to stay inside you. 

He'll either plug your discarded panties into your cunt, or force you to finger yourself so you can push the cum deep inside of you. And if you were being too bratty, he'll just fuck the cum deep inside of you. 

None of Rafe's cum would go to waste. None of it. 

Even when you give him blowjobs, he'll scoop the cum that either landed on your face or tits and smear the cum around your pussy. 

God, Season Three Rafe could not wait for the day you swelled and leaked with milk, all because of him.

But all this goes to say, he wouldn't mind it, if you were to call him Daddy (in and out of the bedroom).

Honorable Mention:

I also feel like each Rafe would without a doubt be into choking.

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: sweet baby boy drew whos willing to help u, nothing else rly

one | two

authors note: i wanted to give it a sort of “the proposal” / “anyone but you” type of feel !! this is obviously going to be a series so let me know if u want to be added to the tag list from now on so u dont miss an update ! <3

your body freezes in place when you’re asked about the wedding. crap, you forgot. but it isn’t like you received any invite.

“theo sent you an invite through the mail. you got it right?” your friend, leila, asks you. leila and her fiancé theo have been your friends for years now, ever since you met leila during a movie priemere and shared respect on each other's careers. she’s been your closest friend, so theo naturally had to come along too.

“what? yeah,” you lie right through your teeth, and guilt punches you in the face when you stare right into her bright eyes. you raise the cup of coffee. “was literally jumping for joy when i got it.”

leila sighs in relief. “thank god we got the right address,” she says and you question what she means by that before she continues, “we didn’t know whether to send it to your apartment or drew’s.”

your breath is caught and you pause before your drink reaches your lips.

“drew,” you repeat, and she nods.

“yeah, but we figured you’ll both see it either way so, sent it to his place ‘cause theo said it was closer,” leila says, and you raise your eyebrows in amusement. “but anyway! before the wedding, i wanted to stay with our inner circle so if it’s possible for a little two-week vacation? the venue is close to my mom and her boyfriend’s house so we’d just be staying there. i would’ve picked after the wedding if theo didn’t already have the honeymoon planned. he’s too excited.”

“wait, two weeks?” you inquire, “who’s coming?”

she shrugs, “you and drew, libby, gia . . .” she trails off as she thinks about it, and you swallow as you set your cup down. “i forgot who else. i know it’s one of theo’s coworkers but i forgot who. let me text him actually.”

your face lights up at the opportunity to get away, and you nod. “i need to call drew actually,” you say, and she smiles and nods as you stand from your seat and make your way to her living room. “need to remind him to take the . . . fish . . . out.”

“fish?”

“we’re having fish tonight, yeah.”

you turn away to scroll through your contacts until you find his, then click on it. you settle down on the couch as you wait anxiously for him to pick up, and just hope that he does.

just before the call goes to voicemail, the line clears. “yeah?”

“you are such a—!” you hiss quietly, careful not to let leila hear you. “why didn’t you tell me leila and theo sent you a wedding invite for us?”

“i literally just checked my mail, alright? i would’ve said something about it as soon as i saw it,” he tells you. “i just flew in two days ago, y/n. i’m at the . . . i’m not at my apartment right now but my mail’s all on my counter. i’ll look for it once i’m home and then send you pictures of it, okay?”

you know that your situation with drew is slightly complicated. you were together for five years before ending things just a year ago.

because of your careers, you aren’t surprised that people assume you’re still dating. even close friends like leila and theo. everything was kept private. a year into the relationship was when fans even found out about you two.

you both have been looking for a time to address the breakup, to friends first for sure, but with your conflicting schedules, the time’s just never come up, and sending a “by the way, we broke up” text to an imessage groupchat wasn’t totally ideal.

even with the wedding coming up, having to be around everyone while you celebrate your closest friends, how are you either of you supposed to bring it up now?

“okay,” you tell him. “just text me when you’re free. any time before 10, please.”

“okay,” drew’s voice is soft and understanding. the line goes dead and you pull your phone away from your ear, seeing that he’s hung up.

your expected text comes around 8pm. drew’s sent you four different attachments. all are photos of the elaborate and detailed wedding invitation. the designs must’ve been leila’s idea.

you’re surprised to see an incoming call on your laptop right after. you hover over the accept button, then click on it.

his face fills a rectangle of your screen. he’s on his phone—“do you see it?”

“yeah wait,” you mumble, clicking out of the facetime to open your messages with him, then click the first photo. “leila and theo; rsvp by september twenty-seventh.”

“the letter’s addressed to my place but they put our names on the envelope,” drew tells you, and it looks like he’s ruffling through something before he flips his camera to display his counter. on it is the envelope in question, which is addressed to his apartment, but for y/n and drew, it says.

you hum. “are you going?” you ask him.

“of course i’m going. what do you mean?”

you shake your head, “nothing.”

drew only knows of leila or theo because of you, because leila works with you. maybe he’s made friends with theo but it’s not something you’ve personally seen, so you’re just assuming that maybe since you’ve broken up, there’s no reason for him to go? especially when he’s filming soon?

you stare down at your keyboard as you speak again, “leila wants us to come on a two-week pre-stay with her and theo. and others.”

there’s a brief pause from drew, like he doesn’t understand.

you sense it immediately and continue. “like, before the wedding, she told me today about how her mom has his house she wants us to stay in, just a few of us for two weeks, then they have her wedding— i don’t know, i need to ask her more about it. i think she just wants to fly everyone out and spend more time with us before she’s on honeymoon and living the wife life.”

“could be fun,” drew says. “i mean, i can’t even remember the last time i was out with theo or leila. it might be good for us.”

you furrow your eyebrows at him through the screen, and you try to read him to see if he’s joking. “there is no more ‘us’, remember? and by the way, neither leila or theo or anybody else knows that.”

drew hesitates as if he’s trying to justify your situation.

you rub your eye before resting the side of your head against your fist, “they addressed the invitation to both of us, drew. i feel like we should at least tell them the truth so that when we get there, they know.”

drew hesitates, his eyes moving around as if searching for the right words. “yeah, i know. it’s just . . . complicated.”

“complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you say, feeling frustration build up. “it just feels dishonest. they think we’re still together, and if they find out at the wedding, it’ll look like we’re hiding things.”

“we are hiding things,” he reminds you. “we’ve been avoiding the topic. do you really want to drop this bomb on them right before their wedding?”

you go silent as you think about it, because if telling them isn’t a good option then . . .

“what if we just kept up the appearance that we’re still together?” drew suggests. it draws your attention as you look up at your laptop. “for the wedding and the pre.”

you blink, taken aback. “what do you mean?”

“i mean,” drew continues, “what if we act like we’re still together while we’re there? it might make things easier for everyone. seeing us apart will just create tension. people will feel like they’ll need to walk on eggshells around us.”

you give him a skeptical look. “acting like a couple isn’t the same as actually being one. i’m not sure i can just pull it off without it feeling fake.”

“we’re not faking,” drew says gently. “we’re just playing a part for a bit. we’re professionals. it’s literally our job. we can do this for a few days.”

you pause, considering his words. “but what if it just makes things worse? what if pretending just complicates everything?”

drew’s expression softens, and he speaks more earnestly. “look, we’ve been in tough spots before. there’s been so many times on set with you and i before that we’ve had to navigate headfirst. this is no different. think of it as a role we have to play for a short time. it doesn’t change what’s real.”

you sit back, processing his suggestion. “so we fake it for now and deal with the truth later?”

he hums. “it’s not ideal, but it could save a lot of awkwardness and stress. we can be civil and supportive for their sake, and then handle everything after.”

you let out a long sigh, feeling the weight of the decision. “it just feels like a lot of work to keep up a pretense. but i guess if we’re going to do this, we need to at least figure out how to make it believable.”

“we’ll figure it out,” drew says, his voice a little more hopeful. “it’s not about being perfect. it’s just about getting through the weeks without making things worse.”

you nod slowly, still feeling uneasy but recognizing the practicality of his idea. “okay. pretend for leila and theo, and then deal with the fallout afterwards.”

there’s a faint smile on his face as he nods at you. “just two weeks, remember? we can do that,” he says. “i’m gonna head to bed. i’ll talk to you tomorrow about it, alright?”

“okay,” you murmur, and drew hangs up on you.

the facetime window closes and displays your last app that’s been open, your messages. you’re face-to-face with the photos of the invitations once more, and a part of you is overwhelmed with emotions—fear, excitement, guilt.

two weeks. that’s all it is. just two weeks with your ex-boyfriend. you can survive that . . .

right?

[feelgoodinct]

nsfw, mdni.

cw: situationship simon you will always be famous, jealousy, f oral receiving, not edited, written on mobile during my lunch break lolz.

simon knows he’s no stranger to conflict. it’s intertwined with what he does and who he is. so when you come to him putting your foot down demanding answers about your relationship he figures he’ll let you throw your fit and sort you out when he gets back.

it’s a 3 month deployment, one of those that need a 6 month rest to recoup. when he gets back it’s easy to fall into his normal routine again. he spends his first night back at his usual bar, a seedy little thing downtown that gets crowded quickly. something he’s willing to compromise on since they have his favorite beer on tap.

he’s on his third beer of the night when he hears the chime of the entrance door. only this time he hears a voice that he is familiar with. very familiar with. he his quickly snaps up at the sound to see you. you’re in his favorite skirt one he’s pulled off of you in the back of his truck many times, and short little black number with a lacy top.

he doesn’t have time to gaze and your legs before he zeroes in on the hand at the small of your back, ushering you towards a table in the corner. he grits his teeth. when he said he’ll let you have your fuss he didn’t mean in the form of a fucking date. he stares unashamedly so, paying no more mind to the game playing on the bars dingy telly overhead. he knows you haven’t seen him or else you would’ve turned and walked right back out. he decides he’ll bid his time watching you and your date sit in a booth tucked away into the corner. he scowls as he watches your date lean in to put his hand on your thigh while you scan the drink menu. prick wouldn’t even know what to do with you if he had you, sweetheart. he watches you give him a polite smile. it makes him snort. dickhead didn’t even let you sit on the inside of the booth.

you lean in whispering something to your date making him nod. simon watches you stand and make way towards the washroom at the back scooting by tipsy patrons and disappearing behind the washrooms door. he looks back over to your booth watching your date tap away in his phone. idiot didn’t even have the decency to walk you to the loo. simon waits all of 15 seconds before he rises, chair scraping across the floorboards, dropping a few bills on the bar top.

you reapply your lipgloss in the foggy mirror of the bathroom. when you agreed to go out on a date you thought a nice place to eat. not some bar that make the bottom of your shoes stick. you take a big sigh, if anything you’ll get a few free drinks and make the most of it.

the door swings open, wood groaning with the force behind it, the click of the lock following quickly behind the sound. you turn towards the sound freezing when you see simon standing looking comically large in the small room. “simon? what the hell! this is the ladies room.” you say in disbelief. he ignores your comment and takes long strides towards you boots making a resounding thud with each step. he crowds you against the counter top craning his neck to look you in the face. “ye done throwing a fit?” his voice deep with irritation.

you look at him like he sprouted a third eye, “excuse me?” your reply laced with annoyance at his audacity.

“don’t be difficult.” simon says more of a command than anything. you open your mouth just to quickly close it. even with the tension, the air is thick with heightened emotion. “he’s not your type.” he says with a tight clench of his jaw.

you scoff at his words, “is this what this is about? you followed me into the ladies room to talk about my date?” simon’s eye twitches with your admission that you are, in fact, on a date. he feels jealousy flare deep in his chest. “ye wastin yer time with him.” he ignores your comment about him being in the ladies room. he could give less of a fuck.

you tilt your head watching the muscle in his jaw twitch. “that all?” you say hoping to end his questioning. simon grinds his teeth at your stubborn attitude hands one either side or you gripping the shabby counter. he’s not one to mince words, he considers your question staring at you with intense and dark eyes. he knows he’s being unreasonable that he should step back let you get back to your date. but simon is nothing if not stubborn, more so than you.

before he can say anything there a sharp knock at the door. simon looks at the door, an irritated look flashing across his face. “simon.” you plead with him. there’s a pause before the knocks come again in quick succession. “fuck off! it’s taken.” simon barks towards the door before turning back to you. you watch the rise and fall of his chest, muscles in his arms taut with tension, you notice the way he fills out his shirt the fabric stretching across his chest. you trying swallowing down the desire that’s been building ever since he trudged into the washroom. your on a date for god’s sake.

simon notices the look in your eye and that’s all the permission he needs before he’s hoisting you up onto the counter with his palms burning into the back of your thighs. you squeak at the sudden movement and instinctively open your legs wider giving way to simon’s wide torso. a hand tangles in your hair and tugs your head back barring your neck to him. he leans down, lips against the shell of your ear, voice gruff “if you wanted a fuck you come to me, understood? don’t need no prick trying to feel you up when you got me.” you nod as much as best as you can with the way simon has your head at an awkward angle.

“good.” simon pulls back loosening his grip of your locks and slides his hands down to squeeze the fat of your hips. “now behave and i’ll make it good for you.”

you immediately lean back on your forearms and widen your legs. simon grins at your obedience, canines peeking out from his top lip. he makes quick work of pushing your skirt up to your belly. you hiss as thighs and ass make contact with the cold surface. simon rubs your thighs with big warm hands as an apology. you whine as his fingers close around the band of your lacy black pair of panties tugging them down and off your legs. you feel the cool air hit your center and you see simon pocket them. filthy bastard.

he kneels with a groan taking in your cunt like it’s the first time he’s seen one and he stares like it’s the last time. pinning your thighs to your chest, he looks up through his lashes, “help me out here pretty thing.” he spreads your folds apart with both thumbs and lets out a deep groan.

you’re about to tell him to get on with it when he leans in and gets his mouth on the entirety of your mound. you grip the back of your thighs trying to ground yourself. simon dips his tongue in licking at your opening as your mouth drops open. you nearly sob when he adds a finger in and pulls back with a cocky grin. before you can tell him to piss off he introduces another finger making you whine out like a wounded animal. his mouth returns to tongue at your clit while he curls his fingers hitting a spot that has you jerking. he pulls back grinning and looks up “that the spot, pretty girl?” you nod quickly not caring how desperate you must look with your legs to your chest, feet grazing the top of simon’s shoulders, crying into the air. “yeah i know, sweet thing. yer just gaggin for it. cunts leakin all over my hand.” his words make you clench hard, you don’t even know what you’re begging for. simon doesn’t let up stretching you out with rough fingers giving a low growl into your cunt.

“simon” you mewl dropping your thighs to tug at the tufts of hair between your thighs. he groans, your sounds fueling simon as he speeds up his fingers knowing your close. you cry out chanting simon, simon, simon, please. he leans in to suck at your clit, hard, all while hitting that sweet spot. you come with a sharp pull of his cropped hair and a sob, ears closing around his head. he licks you through it until you’re forced to yank his head back from the overstimulation. he leans back on his haunches, big paws running up and down your thighs, and gives you a dopey grin.

“i can’t feel my legs.” you say in a hoarse voice, trying to catch your breath.

“yeah, m’not surprised. you came hard pretty hard, sweet girl.” simon stands to his full height, not missing the way your cheeks heat up at his words. he chuckles at your sudden shyness, a deep sound that vibrates throughout his chest. he circles his arms around your waist bringing you to sit upright at the edge of the sink.

his hand cradles the back of your neck forcing you to meet him halfway. he gives you a deep kiss, licking the front of your teeth, and sucking at your bottom lip before he pulls away. “ready to go home now?” he says with affection in his eyes.

the reality of where and who you are with dawns on you and you sit upright in a panic. “oh fuck.” you try to keep your voice steady. simon raises an eyebrow at your anxious state. “my date. i left him outside!” you shriek knowing you’re gonna have to go out and answer for your absence. simon clicks his tongue understanding why you’re so worried. “don’t worry bout it, pet. told him to sod off before i came in. bastard ran out before i could even threaten him” he says patting your backside in reassurance.

you let out a big sigh of relief knowing you won’t have to confront him. simon gives you a crooked smile. “ready?” he runs his hand through your hair. you give him a sweet smile and a nod.

(you make a mental note to thank soap for giving you a heads up on simon’s plans for tonight.)

[musings-of-a-rose]

Camping Trip

Pairing: Will Miller x f!reader (nickname Autumn)

Word Count: 3400+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Listen. I don’t know. I just saw the picture in the upper right of my moodboard and came up with this. Ok fine I wrote the first 3 paragraphs in May and the rest now. Will and I are complicated, ok? Shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for reading and listening to my ramblings as always!

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Will Miller Masterlist

It had been a rough few months, no doubt about that. Somehow, I survived. Made it to the solo camping trip I had been thinking about for months. It's nothing I haven't done before. Even the trails and campsite are familiar. Still, it had been a few years and I was itching to get away from the city and all the noises it pounds into my head.

I head down the backroads, the pine trees growing thicker the further out I get from the city. At first I pass a lot of cars, mostly traveling into the city. But after a while, when the trees are so tall I can't see over them, so thick I can barely see through them, I'm the only car on the road.

I see the sign for the campsite and turn, heading down the dirt path to the small parking lot about a half mile in from the road. There are a couple of other jeeps and trucks here, one of them belonging to the park ranger who sits inside the small welcome center/general store. I head inside to use the bathroom, the last little "luxury" I give myself before spending a week away from everyone.

"Hi mis- Autumn! Haven't seen you for what...3 years?"

I smile at the man behind the counter, giving him a little wave. "Hey Jay! You're still working here? I thought you'd have retired by now." I grab a couple of bags of the beef jerky they have on sale. It's made by a local farmer and I can only get it here.

Jay chuckles. "Next year. Maybe."

"Don't push yourself too hard, Jay."

"Oh! Mary had her baby! Course she's 3 now."

"Oh really? Damn, 3 already?”

Jay looks at me pointedly. “Well that’s what you get for taking so long to come back and visit.”

Before I can answer, the bell on the entrance door jingles out and Jay glances over my shoulder. “Afternoon, sir! Can I help you with anything?”

“Just a trail map, thanks.” His voice is a little raspy, like he hadn’t used it for a while. I turn to point to the map stand but am momentarily frozen. 

This man is gorgeous.

Tall, short blonde hair, slightly longer up top. Military or ex military judging by the cut and the way he holds himself. But his eyes meet mine, slate blue and what was I saying? 

Jay pinches my arm. “Show him the maps, Autumn.”

I force a small chuckle to Jay, quickly pulling my arm from his pinching fingers and walk towards the blonde man and am hit with the scent of pine, leather, and old spice. Normally I would not be into the latter on a man but the way it mixes with his natural scent is going straight to my head. And other places.

“Here,” I somehow manage to walk past him and grab a map from the spinning holder, turning to hand it to him. The man takes it, his eyes twinkling before he gives me a quick wink.

“Thanks, darlin’.” His eyes quickly flick down my body, or maybe I’m imagining it? 

“You check the weather before coming, sir?”

His eyes are on mine still for another moment before he turns to address Jay. “Yeah I did. This isn’t my first time camping.”

Jay nods. “Military?”

The man chuckles. “Vet. Am I that obvious?”

Jay shrugs. “Not exactly. I just know people. Well, as long as you know what you’re in for. Shouldn’t be too bad but just make sure to stay warm. Not sure how long you’ll be here but if ever a blizzard alert comes up, you come right back here, ok? There’s a small cabin out back that’s open to campers 24/7.”

“Thanks.” The man takes his map, declining Jay’s offer of a bag. He glances back over at me. “See you later, darlin’.”

Fuck. Me. “See you!”

It takes me the usual couple of days to make it to my favorite spot, but I breathe a sigh of relief when I break through the trees, the breathtaking view of the mountains and lake spread out before me. It feels like coming home. 

I get to work setting up my camp, fire and tent good to go, my food hanging from a bag in a tree. I managed to find a place with a good fallen log, perfect for sitting on or against and close enough to the fire so I can keep warm. The wind blows through the nettles of the tall pines around me, the cool, misty breeze coating the exposed skin on my face. I take a deep breath in and out. I really missed being here. 

I do turn on my high powered radio to listen to the weather report twice a day, making sure nothing unexpected is coming. There’s something the weathermen are looking at, but they don’t think it’ll be anything. Still, the temps are sure to drop in a couple of days and there may be a bit of snow. I’m prepared for it, but it’s still good to know. 

A couple days later, I’m about a half mile from camp, walking along the trail near the lake. So far, I’ve seen a couple of deer and a ton of birds. I’m stopped, leaning against a tree trunk to take a quick break when I hear the sound of footsteps on the path ahead. I know I’m not the only one camping, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t instantly on alert. Another couple of seconds of hearing the sound and I know it’s human. From around the curve of the path emerges the man from Jay’s, his pack full and looking heavy. He sounds a little winded and had obviously been walking for a bit. I straighten myself and wave to him.

“Hey! Fancy seeing you here!”

The man glances at me and smiles, the same one from the shop. “Hey…Autumn?”

I nod. I tell him my real name. “But Jay’s been calling me Autumn since I first came to this trail.”

“Let me guess. It was during Autumn?”

I chuckle. “Jay is original.”

He comes closer, but stops several feet away, breathing heavier. “I’m Will.”

“Nice to meet you, Will.”

He nods to me. “Same.”

He still doesn’t move. “I don’t bite, you know.”

He cocks his head, confused, but then seems to piece it together. “Oh. Well, I didn’t want to freak you out by invading your space.”

I’m fairly positive if this man wanted to take me down, he could’ve done that, several feet away with a pack on or no. “Thank you. That’s…unexpected. And kind.”

“Don’t other people do that?”

I shake my head. “Not really.”

“Oh. Well they should.”

I shrug. “Maybe….but Will, you can come closer. It’s alright.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You sure?”

“Yeah, why?”

He remains rooted to the spot. “You don’t think I’ll take advantage of you?”

I snort. “I’m fairly positive you could’ve done that already, Mr. Military. Don’t threaten me with a good time.” What the fuck did I just say?

I swear I see the tips of his ears turn pink as he chuckles, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot. “A good time it would be.”

He comes closer and I gesture towards my bag which is resting against a log. He takes his own off and sets it beside mine, shrugging and stretching his shoulders a bit. “I really should’ve taken a break before now. Gettin’ old sucks.”

I chuckle, my eyes roaming down his arms, the flannel on his shirt hugging his biceps in all the right ways. 

“You look in great shape to me.” 

His eyes meet mine and we stare at each other for several moments before I blink, shaking my head a little to rid myself of the not at all PG thoughts I was having.

“So…are you trying to make it back to that cabin before the weather moves in?”

Will clears his throat, giving his own head a little shake before crossing his arms across his broad chest. “That was the plan.”

“Have you listened to the weather station today?”

He furrows his brows and I melt. “No, why?”

“The uh..storm? Is moving a little faster than they thought. No way you’ll make it back to Jay’s cabin before it starts to pick up.”

“Shit.” Will sighs, bringing his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I really thought I’d be able to make it but my leg was acting up.” 

I can tell he’s not used to this, needing breaks. He seems like the kind of guy that just pushes through the pain. Until it pushes back.

“Come on. You can stay with me.” I push back from the tree and lean down to get my pack, swinging it up on my back. When I look back up at Will, he’s staring at me, eyes wide.

“What?”

“Did you just invite me to your camp?”

I adjust the straps on my shoulders. “Yeah. Let’s get going so that way we aren’t stuck.”

“You trust me?”

I click the last strap into place across my chest before I look at him. “I thought we established that I do.”

He studies me for a long moment, his eyes moving between mine and I swear he glances down at my lips. “You sure you have the space?”

I shrug. “May be a little bit of a squeeze but temps are dropping anyway. We can always find a way to get warm.” What did I just say?

A small smirk spreads across his beautiful face. “I’m sure we can, darlin’.” He leans down and grabs his own pack, situating it on his back before he gestures to me. “Lead the way.”

Talking to Will is easy, comforting almost. He tells me about his time in the army, Delta Force, and his brothers, including his real life brother Benny. A golden retriever of a man if I ever heard of one. He asks me questions about my life and listens intently, actually interested in what I have to say. Before I know it, we’re back at my camp. Will stops for a moment, staring out over the lake at the mountain behind it and whistles. “You found a hell of a view.”

“Thanks. It took me a couple years to find but now it’s like home.”

Will helps me start a fire and get food cooking, laughter and conversation flows just as easily as before and I find myself gravitating towards him, physically. But he also seems to be scooting closer and closer until our legs are nearly touching. Snowflakes start to fall, coming in faster and thicker.

“We should probably get the sleeping bags set up before it gets hard to see,” Will suggests, his breath puffing out in tendrils in front of him. 

“Good idea.”

Will gets the outside of our little camp ready as the sun starts to dip and night comes. We manage to get in the tent before the snow really starts to come down. It’s a little bigger than a one room tent, but we’re still pretty snug in here now that there’s two of us. And he’s so fucking broad. I shift my sleeping bag over a bit more and Will slides his down next to mine. He looks between our bags and then up at me, his eyebrows pulled together in slight concern.

“What is it?” I ask nervously.

“It’s…nevermind.”

I punch his arm and have to choke back a scream at how firm it is. “Just tell me.”

He chuckles while he dramatically rubs his arm. “Ouch,” he smirks as I roll my eyes. “But we should zip our bags together. For warmth. It’s about to get pretty cold.”

“William Miller. Are you asking to get in my sleeping bag with me?”

He shifts nervously, his ear tips turning red. “No! I uh, that’s not… I mean, it’s basic survival. I didn’t mean.. I don’t want you to think-”

I laugh then, cutting him off. “Chill out, Will. I know how you meant it. You’re a nice guy. I just like watching you blush.”

He rubs at his face. “You’re dangerous.”

“How dare you, good sir. I am a lady.”

He snorts and I swear under his breath he says “I bet you are.”

We get the bags zipped together and slide down in them, trying to leave as much space as we could between us. After several minutes of us shuffling around awkwardly, Will chuckles.

“You wanna be the big spoon or the little one?”

My laughter rings out in the tent joining his, tears streaming down my face at this brilliant tension breaker. “I’ll be little,” I choke out. I turn around, facing my back towards him. I feel him scoot closer and heat instantly rushes through my body, pooling between my thighs. Can he hear how my heart is about to beat from my chest?

“Is this ok?” Will’s breath fans out over my neck, goosebumps erupting in it’s wake. 

“Uh..I uh…y-yeah. All good. Is it uh, close enough? For survival, I mean.”

Will clears his throat. “Uh, well I mean. We should probably be, uh, closer. To stay warm. For survival, of course.”

“Well if it’s for survival, scoot as close as you want.”

He makes a choking sound but shifts closer, his body molding to mine. I can feel his hand hovering, unsure of where to place it. I reach back and take it, gently placing it on my hip, trying to ignore the heat that immediately ignites, flowing down between my legs. The wind blows outside, the tent rustling with it. I shift my hips a little and Will’s grip on my hip tightens, his fingers digging into my skin. And I can feel something else pressing against my ass and I swallow hard.

“You’re going to have to stop moving around, darlin’. Please.” He chokes out the last word, sounding restrained. 

I take a deep breath. “What if I don’t want to?”

His grip tightens even more and I know I’ll bruise if he keeps it up. And I don’t care if I do. 

“I’m trying really hard to be respectful, Autumn.”

I glance over my shoulder at him. “Don’t be respectful then.”

A quiet growl emanates from him. “What are you saying?”

I make sure I have his gaze. “Be disrespectful. If it’s permission you want, you have it.” 

He watches me for a long moment before I feel him shift, his arm that’s not gripping my hip sliding under my neck. He twists his wrist, sliding it down to unbutton my shirt, his hand finding it’s way down my shirt and under my bra, gently swiping his fingers over my nipple. But at the same time, his other hand slowly moves from my hip, pulling my leg up and over his own, his hand gently teasing my skin as he pushes it under my pantline and between my legs, another groan when he feels how wet I am. I gasp as he nips at my shoulder. 

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, Autumn.”

I try to respond, but instead a moan escapes me as his fingers start to play with me, gentle circles with alternating pressure as all my blood rushes between my legs, that fire igniting rather quickly. 

“Will, I’m gonna…” I’m not entirely sure what I say as I come, my leg twitching as my body soars, pleasure radiating out from between my thighs, spreading throughout me.

“Feeling warm?” Will speaks deeply in my ear, nibbling a little on my ear lobe.

I nod, my head flying already. “You didn’t even take my clothes off.”

He chuckles against my neck. “I told you I was respectful.”

Surprising even myself, I reach behind me and grab him over his pants. He grunts but pushes against my hand, no doubt relieving some of the pressure. I turn my head towards him, my lips barely brushing his. “Please, Will.”

His eyes are like a storm at sea, blue and wild, darkening. “Tell me.”

I take his hand and push it between my legs where I was growing wetter by the second as I push my hips back, grinding on him. He grunts in my ear. “You gotta stop doing that or I won’t be able to hold myself.”

My hand, still over his, pushes his fingers towards my entrance, his thick fingers circling me, heat and anticipation swirling around me. “D-don’t hold yourself back. Fuck me, Will. Please,” I’m not above begging at this point, his finger continuing to edge me along. But then he’s pulling his hand out of my pants, trying to sit up but struggling because we’re in a sleeping bag. 

“Take off your clothes before I rip them off.”

That command went straight through me, my fingers moving quickly to take off all my clothes, tossing them out of the sleeping bag. Will does the same on his own, starting his own neater pile outside of the sleeping bag. I lay back down, assuming he’ll want the same position. His fingers skim across my side, watching the goosebumps pimple up. But then he pushes my hip down, turning me on my back as he slides over my body, my legs opening as wide as I can to give him space. He’s heavy, fuck he’s so much bigger than I thought as he presses against my clit, hot and pulsing. His eyes find mine, a dark twinkle in them as he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. I part them and he slides his tongue inside, the kiss quickly heating up as he starts to move his hips. He slides himself over me, back and forth across my clit, swallowing my moans. My fingers dig at his back, silently begging him for more. The pressure is so intense, so much, that if he doesn’t fuck me now, I may just pop. Or go insane. 

Then Will gently takes my wrists, pinning them on either side of my head. His hips shift and with a confident stride, he pushes into me, my head pressing back into the pillow as I feel the pleasant burn, my body stretching to accept him, all of him. He pulls his hips back and pushes in, this time with a little more force and I feel a jolt through my body as he hits some spot at the back of me. I whine as Will continues to fuck me, slowly but forcefully, heat coursing through me. And then, I snap, crying out his name as I squeeze around him, my entire body lighting up and carrying me away from myself, my release made more intense by being pinned under him, unable to move away from the intense pleasure. 

Will’s breaths are heavy, panting out with restraint, like he’s holding himself back. He kisses me again, hard, nipping at my bottom lip before pulling back and out, but before I have a chance to feel too empty, he somehow flips me on my belly, my boobs pressing into the sleeping bag as he arcs my hips up just enough for him to slide in easily, my body greedily taking him in. He lays on top of me, his arms over mine as he laces his fingers with my hands. The weight of him both on and in me sends heat right back between my legs. He bites at my neck and shoulder as he fucks into me, deeper and harder with every thrust until I’m coming again, screaming his name into my pillow as I feel his hips sputter, Will whining in my ear as he spills inside of me. His body slumps against mine, both of us trying to catch our breath. Eventually, he slides off of me and to my side, turning me and pulling me to his chest. He nuzzles in my hair, wrapping his arms around me again, one massive hand holding a boob.

“Warm enough?” Will whispers in my ear.

“Mmm..” I respond. “You didn’t tell me you could fuck, Will.”

He chuckles and kisses my neck. “I’m restricted by this sleeping bag, darlin’. I did the best I could.”

The whine that escapes me is loud. “I’d love to see that.”

“Well when I’m done with you after this camping trip darlin’, you’re going to need some time to recover. And then I plan on showing you exactly how my fucking is.”

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe

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@gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox 

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@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk 

[rosyandraw]

idk if this is redundant on your end but thoughts on Damen needing to talk during sex? in the books it isn’t even dirty talk it’s just endless want for Laurent and how long he’s been waiting for him and how different Laurent feels. Also in canon & in ur own writing

Definitely not redundant! You have just knocked on the Damen Character Study door in my head lmao but it's late and idk how much sense this will make so i'm sorry in advance.

Mini meta on Why Damen Likes to Talk During Sex in Canon

First and foremost words are hugely important to Damen, not just during sex but in general. It is part of the reason that Vere trips him up so badly, why he just doesn’t get it. Because Vere is a veil of word play and innuendo, it’s double speak and flowery bullshit and lies.

That’s not Damen. His word is his bond, it’s tied to his honour and they mean a great deal to him. He never says anything he doesn’t mean. Ever. If it’s coming out of his mouth he is saying that shit with his whole damn chest and doesn't give a fuck.

The few times he is forced to lie or to say something he doesn’t mean he says it as a strategy play but it barely makes it out of his mouth and he hates it.

For a long time by the time they get to Ravenel Damen has been playing a part. Living a half truth and not saying everything he means. Or wants to say.

Likewise, in Akielos, Damen keeps himself held back. We know this because in 3 books, despite being the darling crown prince and heroic military leader, he mentions 1 person by name that he is actually and genuinely close to. One. He’s never been in love with anyone before Laurent, he doesn’t get close, he doesn’t get particularly attached. If he did Jokaste would have been a Princess and not just his mistress.

It speaks of a whole heap of childhood trauma and issues, thanks in large part to his father and Kastor and this picture that is painted of strength in Akielos being The Most Important Thing. (And i have too many thoughts on said implied trauma to write it all out properly here because it's an essay unto itself.)

We also know that Damen does the talking thing with Jokaste too. So we know it's an indicator of intimacy in bed for him. He's certainly not doing it in Vask, for example. Because Damen values words so highly he does wear his heart on his sleeve, but he guards that heart close. Sharing his feelings becomes something then tied to both the value Damen places on words and the lack of emotional intimacy in his life. To Damen, opening up like that especially during sex, is an act of giving unto its self.

Damen is strong, yes. Crazy strong and the perfect warrior. But he also likes the wordy sad poems and has craved approval (and affection) from his father and Kastor seemingly most of his life. For example, Kastor stabbed him and made Damen believe with words that it was a good thing because it meant Kastor respected him enough to fight him like a man.

It’s the perfect anecdote to draw all of those ideas together. Damen being happy about being stabbed at 13 by his brother because Kastor said it was a good thing to be strong enough to fight properly and bear the consequences.

Words matter to Damen, he assumes they do to other people too. It's what nearly gets him killed.

It’s funny really, because Damen values words but he himself is a man of action and Laurent values action but is a man of words.

When it comes to sex we see them swap places from their usual dynamic and therein lies the intimacy.

Laurent acts and Damen talks. It’s a complete role reversal and it was always meant to be. Pacat has said, several times, that Laurent tops Damen with words all the time and it was a purposeful choice to have Laurent bottom because of this. So to follow that through to it's logical conclusion for the sex scenes to really hit we needed to see them swap places completely and Damen needed to talk.

Laurent is a mouthy little shit but when it comes to his important scenes (the building of their intimacy and their sex scenes) it's never his words that he's speaking loudest with. Like when he just hugged Damen after the meeting with Jokaste in KR or when he went to get ice for him in PG, it's an offering in place of words and Laurent does it frequently: letting his actions speak louder than any of his words because to Laurent words don't really matter, lies are too easy. He's been taken in by words before.

Damen gets to Laurent through his actions and it's Laurent's moments of honesty, of saying something unexpected, that make Damen really pay attention. This isn't to say that Laurent's actions don't get to him, they do of course, but only really when Damen comes to realise that's how Laurent is being honest. Likewise in reverse for Laurent.

It's the language the other understands that allows the distance to bridge, but the intimacy comes in the opposite every time.

So when they fall into bed Laurent instigates with action, all three times they are together. And Damen talks. Because it’s the thing that is important to them that they are willingly giving and sharing and that is what makes it intimate.  

Quite simply, Damen holds himself back emotionally so talking during sex like that is a way for Damen to let go and to let his partner know that's it not just sex. Laurent, in reverse, shows his want through the instigation and by the time it happens they both know what it means: Laurent never does that and Damen knows it. Laurent knows Damen says what he fucking means.

It's such an intimate sex scene because of that awareness.

In my writing I kind of try to take that and run with it. Damen says what he means and what he wants Laurent to hear, because words of affirmation are important to him personally so he makes sure to share that.

Plus, it’s just sexy, you know? Got to love a man who talks in bed, that sex rough voice when he’s so far gone you know what his saying is just the shit flying through his head?

Hot.

Loved this ask so much. I could literally write a thesis on Damen lmao

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Put to use

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 3

Prompts: Rough & Aftercare

Words: 1,404

Rated: E

Tags: Roleplay; Consensual non-con; Mean dom!Steve; Sub!Eddie; Face fucking; Hair pulling; Slapping; Degradation; Humiliation; Coming in pants; Aftercare

“You know why I called you here?” Steve asks. 

Eddie hums. The sound comes out shaky and too high, distorted by the bundle of nerves lodged in his throat. 

“Not to ask my opinion on your interior design choices, I hope,” he says, gesturing at the checkered atrocity lining the walls. “I mean, I dunno what's considered chique in your circles, but this-” 

“Don’t play smart with me, Munson.” 

Steve whirls on him, and Eddie's feet stumble a step back without his conscious permission. The backs of his knees bump against something soft and then, before he knows it, he's sitting on the bed with Steve looming above him. That pretty mouth twists into a haughty smile. 

“Selling drugs to my team on the night before the big game?” Steve asks, voice gravelly and low. His varsity jacket rustles as he brackets his hands on either side of Eddie’s legs. “Are you fucking serious?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, hoping that the hammering of his heart won't betray him. “What are you, their mom? Gimme a-” 

Steve puts one large hand on his thigh and squeezes, and the words give way to a pained hiss.

“I am their captain,” Steve says. He smells faintly of chlorine and shampoo. “And I wonder what the coach would say about this. Or the principal for that matter.” 

Eddie can practically feel himself go pale. 

“No,” he breathes. “Nonono, c’mon, dude! You know Higgins has it out for me, I can't afford another fucking suspension. Can't we just forget about it? Please, I'll do-” 

“Oh,” Steve says. “Now you can say please? I like that.” 

The fingers digging into Eddie’s thigh shift inwards, and Eddie’s heart kicks against his ribcage. 

“Hey, stop it,” he blurts. “What are you-” 

Steve slaps him. Not very hard - just enough to leave Eddie’s face stinging with pain and humiliation. The feeling pools at the base of his spine, hot and tight, and his cock throbs against Steve’s hand. 

“Now,” Steve says. “What were you about to say? You'd do what, exactly?” 

Eddie blinks at him. 

The second slap is harder than the first. It sends his head flying to the side, hair whipping with the movement. Steve takes a fistful of curls and pulls, forcing him to meet his eye again. 

“You'd do anything? Is that what you were going to say?” 

Eddie tries to speak, but all that leaves his lips is a pathetic whimper. His ears are ringing and his scalp is burning where Steve is yanking on his hair. He's embarrassingly, painfully hard. 

“You look so dumb with your mouth hanging open like that,” Steve scoffs. “Might as well put it to some use.” 

“Wha-?” Eddie stammers, but it turns into a yelp when Steve gives his head a hard shove. 

“On your knees. You want me to forget about this, make me.” 

The impact of his knees hitting the carpet makes his teeth clack together and sends the room spinning. Above him, Steve laughs, holding his head in place with one hand and undoing his pants with the other. The thick, heady smell of arousal hits Eddie before Steve even pulls himself out, punching another breathy whine from his throat. 

“God, look at you,” Steve murmurs, and there's something swimming in his voice that's dangerously close to awe. “You're actually getting off on this, aren't you?” 

“Please,” Eddie says again. He isn't even sure what he's asking for. Please stop? Please keep going? He doesn't know, and Steve doesn’t leave him any time to find out. Instead, he wraps one thick strand of hair around his fist, so tight that Eddie can feel his scalp give under the pull, and uses the ensuing gasp of pain to shove his cock into Eddie’s mouth. 

The first thrust hits the back of his throat, making him gag and turning his moan into a wet gurgle. He instinctively tries to pull off, but Steve makes a harsh “tsk” sound, holding him in place with the hand fisted in his hair. 

He keeps him there until Eddie’s eyes water and drool begins to gather around the warm, heavy weight on his tongue. Just as Eddie thinks he’s about to run out of air, he starts to move. 

Tangling his other hand in Eddie’s hair as well, he pulls him back, allowing him just enough time to draw a choking breath before he slams him back down on his cock again, and again, and again. Eddie struggles, briefly, but then he goes limp in Steve’s hold, forcing himself to relax his throat, to settle into the relentless rhythm, to let his mind go blank and just let Steve take what he wants. When he braces his hands on Steve’s hips for support, Steve chuckles and wedges of foot between his thighs, hissing in pleasure when Eddie moans around his cock. 

“Fuck, yeah, baby, taking it so well. Gonna come now, yeah? You gonna swallow for me? Wanna see you swallow.” 

Eddie moans again, tapping Steve’s thigh twice, and Steve shudders apart above him with a hoarse scream, the bitter, salty taste of his relief exploding all over Eddie’s tongue. Eddie swallows it in long, greedy gulps, throat bobbing with the motion. When Steve releases his hold, allowing him to pull back, he licks up the drops that have escaped with his tongue, one long, thorough drag at a time. Steve sighs in bliss and tips his head back, fingers running through Eddie’s hair, massaging soothing circles into his stinging scalp. 

“You good, baby?” 

Eddie, currently busy with sucking the last traces of come off Steve's tip, hums vaguely, head too fuzzy for words. When Steve huffs and drops to his knees, he whines in protest. 

“Hey,” Steve says, cradling his head in both hands, fingers ghosting over the spots that are still raw and tingly where he hit him. His brow is furrowed in concern, his touch as gentle as his voice. It makes Eddie’s eyes sting again, but for entirely different reasons. “Hey, talk to me. I wasn't too- Fuck, Eddie, I didn't hurt you, did I?” 

His eyes are large and round and worried like those of a confused puppy dog, and Eddie’s head is so ridiculously tingly, he can't stop the laugh that bubbles out of him. 

“Only in the best ways, big boy,” he slurs, breaking into a fresh fit of giggles at the way his voice comes out, all hoarse and wrecked from Steve's cock. 

Steve's face is full of fond exasperation as he leans closer, brushing his lips over Eddie’s burning cheeks.

“You're impossible, y’know that?” he mutters, pressing a long, lingering kiss to Eddie’s lips, making a face when he tastes himself there. 

“I know,” Eddie winks. “Luckily, you know how to put me in my place, huh?” 

“Yeah, right,” Steve snorts, pulling them both to their feet. Eddie’s legs feel like jelly, and so he ends up cradled against Steve’s chest, cheek squished into the soft fabric of the varsity jacket. “Right now, the only place I wanna put you is the shower.” 

He sends a pointed look at the dark, wet spot staining the crotch of Eddie’s jeans.

“Yes, captain,” Eddie quips, attempting a mock salute that almost makes him topple. Steve rolls his eyes, ignoring Eddie’s surprised yelp as he scoops him up bridal style to carry him towards the bathroom. 

“You enjoyed it then?” 

Eddie looks up to find Steve’s eyes trained ahead, the faintest pink blush coloring his cheeks. 

“Well, duh,” he says. “Why you askin’? You aren't still worried-” 

“No,” Steve blurts. He pauses to set Eddie down and flick on the bathroom lights, licking his lips before he continues. “Yes. I always worry about you, you know that. It's just, I…” 

He trails off, blush darkening as he chews on his bottom lip. Then, so quietly Eddie needs to strain his ears to catch it, he mutters, “Maybe I'd like to … y’know … try it the other way round, some time.” 

Eddie feels his face split into a grin, so wide his cheeks start hurting all over again. 

“You know what?” he says, reaching out to undo Steve’s pants again. “I love that. Next time, I’m gonna be the big, bad drug dealer and you won’t have any money to pay for your fix.” 

If the way Steve’s cock twitches in his hand is any indication, this is an excellent idea.

More smutty September

[creatingblackcharacters]

Ice's Favorite Black Characters, #3:

Charlotte, from Queen Charlotte

Okay so first: I have zero intention of watching the rest of Bridgerton. It doesn't appeal to me. But every time a clip shows up, if I see my girl I'm like "ooooh what my girl Charlotte wearing today??" Bc she be DRESSING.

I cannot tell y'all how much I love this woman. First of all, the casting was superior. And I'm sure y'all have noticed by now, but I am a huge fan of costuming that actually works with Black characters, especially in a period piece. There's shoving us into these outfits with bad wigs meant to forcibly and uncomfortably assimilate us, and then there's STYLING your Black characters! Her AFRO and afro extensions are in full force in the left pic!! Her look as an older woman looks like the way my granny would curl her hair, pinned into an extravagant wig!! It looks like their Black hair!!! (HBO should be a fucking shamed)

Okay. Onto her personality. I'll be honest, Charlotte reminds me of me. Charlotte is blunt, and I love that. She said what she said, and that's that. No bullshit. She's not a sweetheart, at all. Society doesn't like Black women that are direct, let alone when they're in power. I feel like if she were a man, we'd be saying she was an "autistic icon" for her bluntness, and her issues with occasional empathy ("sorrows, prayers") Alas, Black women don't get to be autistic, we get to be "bitches".

She shows her naivete and ignorance often, but she's not stupid- when she senses something is off, she calls it out. Period. She's also very loving! But she's not... Affectionate, in a way that most people would deem affection. but it is clear that she loves the people she loves, and holds them dear to her. Lady Danbury wouldn't be her right hand (and Brimsley her left) if Charlotte didn't want and value her there.

Not to mention, she's very passionate, especially about her man. You don't drop a line like "I care not for his sanity! I care for his happiness, I care for his soul." And not be passionate. But that's also one of her flaws! Charlotte is so caught up in the mission impressed upon her and George, that she loses sight of her own children's happiness. She's not the greatest of mothers, and it's clear it's bc she's prioritized her own mission (babies, continue the great experiment, keep George okay) onto the next generation. Meanwhile, she herself was just as awkward and naive and unsure when SHE showed up to court. Also, "virgins to the left of me, whores to the right" was a wild comment to make lmao. Read the hell out of them damn kids 🤣 she wasn't right but she was right.

Lastly, I love seeing a Black woman loved and adored. George LOVES her, to the point he's willing to go through literal torture to be the man he thinks she wants. I wanna see that. I wanna see us being loved on that intensely. And she loves him just as much.

So yeah. Queen Charlotte was amazing to watch as a Black girl who likes pretty dresses, isn't a sweetheart, and wants to be loved unconditionally. 🤌🏾🔥💕

[reidmoony-toast]

Strawberry Wine. ౨ৎ

"If I was empty space, and you were a formless shape we'd fit"

Spencer x fem singer!reader

The three times they miss each other, and the one time they don't

content: no use of y/n, fluff, pining galore

cw: lil suggestive? (She sings Chappell Roan)

wc: 2.4k

an: I've been cooking this up for a while, but life has been super busy, so I haven't yet finished the other parts. I'm very sorry if they take a few weeks to finish :[ Anyways, hope you enjoy! <3

| pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | series masterlist ౨ৎ

· · ──────────── ·𖥸· ──────────── · ·

He really wished he wasn’t here. He never should have begrudgingly agreed to Penelope’s crazy plans, no matter how much she bugged him about it. This was about as far opposite to his kind of thing that you could get.

The lights were bright–unbearably so; flashing so much he feared he would have an epileptic episode (if it weren’t for the small fact that he didn’t actually have epilepsy, but he digressed).

The large room was also deafening, filled with fans, all of them buzzing in anticipation. Penelope was not an exception–she bounced up and down like a rogue ball, shrieking in excitement close to every thirty seconds. He would know. He had been counting.

Although he would rather be at the very back (if he had to choose anywhere in this wretched place), Penny had physically forced him into the very front row, only a barrier separating them from the stage.

He didn’t know and definitely didn’t want to know how Penelope had acquired such tickets and at such short notice before the show. He had found that he was better living in ignorance of the borderline illegal habits of his best friend.

He had just endured half an hour of what Penny had called the ‘openers’. He was dismayed to hear that the performance was not the actual concert; he learnt that the hard way when he had asked Penelope if they could leave, which she replied to with a cackle, stating that the band that had just exited the stage was, in fact, not the main event of the evening.

He had buried his face in his hands and let out a loud groan. He only had himself to blame for being caught up in the ‘Garcia puppy eyes’ trap, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t whinge at least a little bit–or a lot bit.

He didn’t know much about this singer girl, only that Penelope was obsessed with her, bringing her up in conversation many a time. He admitted that he often didn’t fully (if at all) listen when Garcia gushed over her–he seemed to always zone out.

He had never properly heard her songs, only in passing when Penelope would blast music in her cave, and he didn’t even have a clue what she looked like.

He was mentally preparing himself for the next few gruelling hours, with Penny jumping up and down beside him, when the lights dimmed, sending the whole room into a frenzy.

He winced at the screaming and whooping coming from all around him. Smoke machines started emitting mist, covering the stage and fogging up the colourful lights. The crowd continued to roar, Penelope squealing next to him and gripping the railing of the barrier.

A figure emerged through the haze, the silhouette showing locks of hair cascading over their shoulders, clad in a silk slip dress that ended at the mid thigh, hugging their curves.

They started singing–a smooth, silky voice wrapped around him, making the room suddenly feel more bearable. He swallowed hard. The singing was beautiful. Sweet and rich, wrapping around him like a cosy blanket.

He raised his eyebrows with pleasant surprise. It was, admittedly, not bad in the slightest. He hated to say it, but he was enjoying it, a lot. More than he should, given that it was new-age pop, not the refined tones of classical music–his favourite genre by far.

All thoughts of music flew out of his head as the owner of the angelic voice stepped into the stage lights, allowing him to properly see her for the first time. His breath left his body as he took her in.

She was gorgeous, stunning–almost ethereal, as her other-worldy voice filled his cochlea, transmitting electrical signals through his nerve pathways to his primary auditory cortex.

Her hair shone in the light, giving her a halo of the highest grade, her bright lips curled into a perfect smile around her words, and her eyes shone with a million glinting stars.

He was utterly enamoured by her–every facial expression, every movement she made, every note she sang was all absorbed thoroughly by his wide eyes.

In no time at all, the first song was over, finishing with loud cheering and clapping from the audience. The angel grinned out at the sea of fans, soaking up the feeling.

Unlike Spencer, she was well and truly in her element, looking as though there was not where else in the world she would rather be.

He gazed in open-mouthed awe at the way she floated effortlessly about the stage–and, of course, that breathtaking smile that scrunched her nose and revealed the prettiest dimples he had ever seen.

He was snapped back to reality with a sharp poke in the side from Penelope, centering his gravity away from the girl on stage and back to where he stood.

“What?” He said loudly, an exasperated look adorning his face as he tore his eyes back to his best friend. She was smirking at him, arms crossed in front of herself.

“You have such a thing for her, I’m surprised you're not drooling right now,” she answered mockingly. He scoffed, dismissing her words with a wave of his hands as he faced the stage again, not wanting to miss a moment of the show. He heard Garcia laugh deeply at his half-hearted denial.

All thoughts of Penelope soon left his mind as the heaven-sent saint started to sing again, striking chords in his heart at every note.

The song came and went again, and Spencer wished they would not go by so fast, so he could see her for as long as possible.

The next song started with a more upbeat track, and the angel laughed, running back down stage, scarily close to where Spencer stood. “She was a, Playboy, Brigitte Bardot,” she started to sing, “She showed me things, I didn't know.”

She stuck out her tongue playfully, shaking her hips, making the satin fabric hugging her curves sway.

“She did it right there, out on the deck,” she bit down on her bottom lip as Spencer’s face heated, realising what the song was about. “Put her canine teeth in the side of my neck.”

She gestured with her fingers to a spot on her neck, pretending as if her fingers were the teeth, tipping her head back with imaginary ecstasy. He swallowed heavily, face hot.

“I'm in the hallway waitin' for ya,” she sang, “Mini skirt and my go-go boots,” on those lyrics, she bent over, running her free hand from her heeled boots and up her legs, jutting her ass out.

Spencer’s mouth fell open in shock. He had never felt like this from only a few minutes of meeting someone, let alone just laying his eyes on them. This was completely out of the ordinary for him, and it left him reeling.

~☆~

Songs flitted by like the butterflies in his stomach, and his gaze was permanently fixated on the captivating women centre-stage. He couldn't tear his eyes away even if he tried–and he most definitely didn't.

A new song started, fading in with a catchy guitar riff, and the crowd went wild, sparking a wide smile on the angel’s face.

The drum beat started, and she strutted down the stage, tipping her head back and shaking her smooth curls out in the dim lights before she began to sing. “Midnight,” she dragged out the end of the word.

“Come and pick me up, no headlights,” she blew a kiss to the fans in front of her, winking as she made her way down the stage towards where Spencer was situated.

Penelope grasped his arm tighter and tighter as she neared, buttery voice washing over him.

“Watch us go ‘round and ‘round each time,” she stretched out the note, rolling her head to the side, eyes landing exactly where Spencer was standing. He froze, dumbstruck, as he locked eyes with her.

He gulped heavily as a cheeky grin adorned her face, soft lips framing perfectly white teeth. She straightened up, continuing the lyrics as she floated even closer to him, never breaking eye contact.

“You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye,” She knelt down on the stage in front of Spencer. His breathing stuttered as his gaze remained on her, utterly entranced.

“And I got that red lip classic thing that you like,” she dragged her thumb across her lip, singing to him through a happy, if not slightly teasing, smile.

“‘Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style,” He could see her mouth curving around each syllable as she sang into the microphone, eyes still, somehow, on him.

He most definitely looked like an idiot in that moment, with his flushed cheeks and slack-jawed awe of the ethereal woman only a few feet away, but he didn't have it in himself to care.

She had seen him, and not only that, she had actually come over and sat, right there on the stage in front of him. No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, she was–without question–looking, and singing, straight at him.

She leaned impossibly closer, leaving only a few inches between their two faces as she crooned the words into the microphone. His eyes flicked across the features of her face before they settled on her own.

Up close, they were mesmerising– long, thick lashes framed bright irises, sparkling with the light of the night sky– he could almost map out the constellations he knew off by heart from the incandescent twinkles in her eyes.

“You got that long hair, slicked back-” She moved her free hand to hover over the collar of Spencer's shirt, seemingly asking silent consent to touch him.

He shook out of his trance long enough to nod vigorously. She let out a short chuckle, grabbing his collar and carefully but firmly pulling him closer by his shirt. “-white T-shirt.”

His breath hitched as hers ghosted his lips with every exhale, noses almost touching, with hardly any room for the microphone as his heart raced impossibly faster.

“And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt.” At that, she pulled away, letting go of his collar as she leaned back to run her free hand over her skirt, smirking at Spencer and his flaming-red face.

“And when we go crashing down, we come back every time,” she repeats, still serenading him. “'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style!” She finally stood, winking and blowing a kiss at a thoroughly flustered Spencer as she strutted to another part of the stage.

Spencer stood there, dumbfounded. He couldn't believe she had not only noticed him, but also sang right to him. His shirt was crumpled from where she had gripped it, but he didn't dare fix it. If possible, he would never smooth the rumpled fabric if it meant he could have a reminder of her always.

A rough shake of his shoulder brought him back to the present, Penelope standing astonished next to him, incredulous smile playing on her lips and she all but shrieked in his ear–something along the lines of, ‘You're so lucky!’ and ‘You're so down bad!’.

He didn't pay her any mind, instead keeping his still-red face on her, and her only.

She wandered to different parts of the stage during the remainder of the song, but Spencer didn't miss the more-than-occasional glances she sent his way throughout the next few songs, smile growing each time they locked eyes.

When they did, he matched her smile with his own goofy grin, his heart feeling as if it was beating out of his chest, breathing becoming erratic as he clutched the railing with white knuckles.

~☆~

All too soon, the concert came to an end, accompanied by raucous applause from the crowd. He clapped like a mad thing too, finally understanding why her fans acted the way they did.

The version of him from two hours ago would have teased him relentlessly for this, but he didn't care. It was another completely different version of him, a version that had not yet laid his eyes on her.

It certainly felt like a life-altering moment in his existence. His being was now split into ‘before’ and ‘after’. Before and after her.

She waved and blew kisses enthusiastically as she made her way off stage. He deduced that she would have to walk right past Spencer to get there. He pathetically hoped she would look at him one last time–prayed she cared enough to seek him out once again.

Electricity jolted through his entire body, head to toe, as she locked eyes with Spencer when he was in her direct line of sight.

She gave him a wink and a little wave, biting her lip through a larger-than-life grin; he felt giddy, hand coming up in an awkward half-wave. He silently cursed himself for the stiltedness of his actions.

She, however, didn't have such qualms as she blew him an air kiss, giggling as she turned away, skipping the rest of the way off stage. The screaming continued as the heel of her shoe disappeared behind the side-stage curtain.

He felt oddly hollow as the venue lights came back on, signalling the end of the show. He kept staring at the spot where she had last been, silently hoping she would come back out and sing again. Look at him again.

He blinked hard, finally re-orienting himself, glancing around to see a few people staring at him, whispering to themselves.

They were talking about him–about his encounter. He turned away again, ducking his head as his cheeks burned again.

As quickly as they came, the stares went again, and his eyes flicked back to the stage again. He so badly wanted to meet her, talk to her, even just lay his eyes on her again. That would be enough.

Penelope cleared her throat next to him, and he hummed in response, still not looking away. She snorted. “Come on lover boy, time to leave.”

He turned his attention to see her nod in the direction of the exit.

He gazed back at that spot once more, heaving out a melancholy sigh, before turning away, heading towards the door.

“Yeah, let's go.”

· · ──────────── ·𖥸· ──────────── · ·

Thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated x

Tags: @reidology13 - Comment to be added!

Masterlist ౨ৎ

[pickingupmymercedes]

Not even ours (3/3) - Lewis Hamilton

Sequence: It comes with the territory / Hardest truth / Not even ours

This one can be read as a one-shot, but some context might be lost.

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: angst, pure angst

wordcount: +2k

a/n: Right person wrong time. It's gonna hurt, sorry.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

She hadn’t spoken to her friend in weeks, maybe months.

It wasn’t on purpose, not at first, but as time passed, she had found it easier to shut everyone out. It wasn’t personal—at least, that’s what she told herself—but somewhere along the way, she’d pushed her away, too.

Y/n sat across from her friend in the café, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her cup, the weight of her decision hanging in the air like a storm cloud she couldn’t escape.

Her throat felt tight. Their eyes holding onto each other’s with a tenderness she hadn’t seen in so long, and it made something inside her ache.

Her friend tilted her head, watching Y/n with a careful, concerned expression. "You seem... lost," she said gently, her voice cutting through the dull hum of the café.

Y/n opened her mouth to respond but found herself swallowing the words that sat on the edge of her tongue.

Lost. Yes, that was exactly how she felt.

But how could she explain to someone else what she hadn’t even fully admitted to herself?

"Do you remember when we used to come here every week, no matter how busy we were?" her friend continued, a small smile playing on her lips. "We’d talk about everything, laugh about the dumbest things. It feels like you’ve... disappeared. Where’s my Y/n gone?"

That question.

Y/n had asked herself the same thing, in front of the mirror, in the middle of the night, and every time she forced herself to smile when she felt like falling apart.

Where had she gone?

Y/n sighed, rubbing her temples as the weight of it all pressed down on her. “I’m fine. Really.”

But her friend wasn’t buying it. “Are you? Because the Y/n I know wouldn’t let herself disappear like this.”

That hit harder than she expected.

She could feel her chest tighten, her heartbeat pulsing in her ears. And she wanted to be angry, to lash out, to defend herself—but there was no point.

Her friend wasn’t wrong.

“I’m just… going through some stuff,” she admitted, her voice sounding small even to herself.can

She reached across the table, her fingers grazing Y/n’s. “You don’t have to go through it alone. But you have to take a step back and figure out if this is really making you happy.”

Happy? She almost laughed at the word, but it caught in her throat.

Happy.

When was the last time she’d even thought about that? About whether she was happy in this whirlwind she’d been caught up in?

“I…I don’t know” she whispered, the truth spilling out before she could stop it and it tasted bitter, like an admission of failure.

She looked up at her, her heart heavy. She wasn’t angry, not really, but the realization hit her like a punch to the gut.

She had been losing herself—slowly, without even noticing. And now… She wasn’t sure there was anything left to hold onto.

The other woman’s grip tightened on Y/n’s hand. “Then it’s time to figure that out.”

When she got home everything was too quiet.

Too calm, almost.

The walls felt like they were closing in on her, and she couldn’t stop the pressure building in her chest.

She needed to let it out.

Lewis was in the living room, casually flipping through sheets of data, completely unaware of the storm brewing a few steps from him.

Y/n stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him. The sight—so familiar, so calm— made something inside her snap.

“You just… you just sit there,” She blurted out, her voice shaking with the suddenness of her own words. “Like everything’s fine. Like we’re fine. How can you do that?”

He looked up, confused, the papers still in his hand. “Y/n, what—what are you talking about?”

She paced the room, her hands shaking as she tried to find the words.

But they wouldn’t come.

All she had was the overwhelming need to scream, to lash out, to do something, anything, that would make the suffocating feeling go away.

“I don’t know!” she shouted, her voice cracking. “I don’t know what I’m talking about. I don’t even know what I’m feeling anymore, Lewis. I just—”

Her throat closed up, and the rest of the words stuck, tangled in a mess of emotions she couldn’t unravel.

He stood up, his face etched with concern as he approached her slowly. “Hey, hey… come here.” He reached for Y/n, his hands gentle, trying to calm her, but it only made the frustration worse.

“No!” she jerked away, tears stinging her eyes as she pushed his arms back. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to fix this! I’m not some problem you can just solve.”

He blinked, hurt flickering across his face. “Y/n, I’m not trying to—”

“I don’t even know what you’re trying to do!” she cut him off, the words spilling out faster than she could stop them. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I feel like I’m drowning, and you—you don’t even notice.”

His brows furrowed, and he stepped closer again, this time slower, more deliberate. “I notice,” he whispered, his voice pained. “I notice every single day.”

The raw honesty in his voice broke something in her.

Her shoulders slumped, and she felt her resolve start to crumble.

He reached again, his arms wrapping around her this time, and she let him. Sagging into his chest, but it wasn’t comfort she was seeking.

Everything felt like too much. The air in the room was too thick, her skin too tight, her thoughts too loud.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

All she knew was that the ache in her chest was unbearable, and if she didn’t do something—anything—she was going to fall apart right here in front of him.

Without thinking, without pausing to consider what she was doing, Y/n surged forward, her lips crashing against his.

It wasn’t a kiss born of passion or love—it was frantic, desperate, a plea for something solid in a world that felt like it was falling apart.

She poured everything she had left into the kiss, as though if she could just hold him close enough, she could escape the storm raging inside her.

Her fingers dug into his shirt, clinging to him like he was her lifeline, the only thing keeping her from sinking.

But instead of comfort, all she felt was the growing panic that even this wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

His hands came up to cup her face, but instead of pulling her closer, he held her in place.

His lips stilled, unmoving, and when he pulled back, his eyes searched hers, a with a mix of sorrow and pity.

“Y/n, stop” he whispered, his voice firm, and the words hit her like a blow.

He was looking at her like he understood, like he knew what she was trying to do, but it only made it worse.

He knew, and still, he wouldn’t let her try and run from this.

His eyes were filled with so much hurt, so much confusion, but he held her gaze. “This isn’t what you need right now. This isn’t what we need.”

His voice wasn’t harsh, but the rejection still cut deep.

Tears filled her eyes as she stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself like she was trying to hold herself together.

But it was no use. Everything was spinning, and now she didn’t even have him to anchor her.

“You don’t know what I need.” she spat, her voice sharp and bitter, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew they weren’t true.

He knew her better than anyone, and that was the problem. He knew she was falling apart, and he wouldn’t let her use him to keep pretending everything was okay.

She wiped her mouth, feeling foolish, like she had just tried to put a Band-Aid on a wound that was too deep to heal with a kiss.

It wasn’t enough. She wasn’t enough. Not for him. Not for herself.

She couldn’t tell how long she locked herself in the bedroom for, curled up on the corner, her mind racing and heart aching.

It felt like hours when there was the knock on the door.

“Y/n?” her friend’s voice was gentle, cautious. “Let me come in.”

Y/n didn’t respond, but after a moment, she creaked the door open, and the woman stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room before landing on her trembling figure.

She couldn’t even look at her. She didn’t want her friend to see her like this—so lost, so broken. But she didn’t push. She sat down next to Y/n on the floor, the silence between them heavy.

“I didn’t know what else to do.” Y/n mumbled; her voice hoarse.

Her friend nodded, her hand finding Y/n’s and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“I don’t know who I am anymore” Y/n choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how I got here.”

She couldn’t hold it in anymore. The tears started to fall, and before she knew it, she was sobbing, the weight of everything finally crashing down on her.

The pain and confusion spilling out in waves.

Her friend rubbed her back, her touch gentle. “It’s okay to feel lost, Y/n. But you don’t have to stay lost.”

When the tears finally stopped, she stood up, giving one last reassuring look. “I’m just a call away if you need me.”

Y/n found Lewis outside in the garden, sitting on the edge of the patio, staring out into the darkness. The night air was cool, and she could hear the distant hum of traffic, as though the world beyond their little bubble had no idea it was falling apart.

“Lewis,” she called softly, stepping outside.

He turned at the sound of her voice, but didn’t rise. His face was unreadable, but his eyes—those eyes she had once found so comforting—looked tired, worn out by the weight of what neither of them wanted to say.

She swallowed hard as she walked toward him, her footsteps slow, each one more difficult than the last.

She didn’t sit down right away, just stood beside him, looking at the familiar outline of his form against the night, the way his hands rested limply in his lap, as though even they had given up.

For a moment, the silence between them felt like a chasm—an endless stretch of space that neither of them could cross.

It hung there, heavy and suffocating.

"I don’t think I can keep doing this," she choked out, the tears she had been holding back from him finally breaking free.

Her voice was raw, each word scraping painfully out of her like she was admitting to a failure she didn’t want to face.

His hand stilled and the night went quiet, the silence deafening.

She could feel his breath hitching, the weight of her words sinking in. His face was stricken, heartbreak written in every line of his expression.

He stood slowly, his brows furrowing as he took in her words, as if he hadn’t really heard her. "Y/n—"

“I can’t keep doing this,” she interrupted, her hands shaking. “What happened earlier, that’s not who I am. It’s not who I want to be. And you don’t deserve someone who can’t keep up, who’s falling apart.”

She took a breath, trying to steady herself, but it wasn’t working. The truth was out, and it hurt so much more than she thought it would.

Lewis stepped toward her, his arms reaching out as if to steady her, to hold onto her, but she shook her head. “Don’t,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Please don’t.”

The look in his eyes almost undid her.

He was breaking, too. She could see it—how much this hurt him, how much he was holding back.

For a moment, neither of them moved. They just stood there, staring at each other, neither wanting to be the first to walk away.

“You deserve better,” she whispered, her voice cracking. "I’ve lost myself, Lewis. I’m not me anymore, and I don’t know how to find my way back. I love you so much, but I can’t keep drowning like this."

He let out a shaky breath, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

His hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to reach for her but didn’t trust himself to move. “I noticed” he whispered finally. “I noticed every single day.”

His voice broke, and Y/n could see the raw pain in his eyes—the realization that this wasn’t something he could fix now.

His hand then found her cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

She leaned into his touch, savoring it, knowing this was the last time she’d feel it.

And she closed her eyes, the memories of their life together flashing before her—the way he used to laugh when she teased him about his messy habits, the late-night conversations that seemed to go on forever.

They had built so much together, but somewhere along the way, she had lost herself and their lives with it.

“This… this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “But no love is worth losing my sanity over. Not even ours.”

His breath hitched, and Y/n could feel the conflict in him—the pain of wanting to hold on but knowing he couldn’t.

"I don’t want to lose you" he whispered; his voice thick. "But I can’t see you like that, Y/n..."

Her heart shattered at his words. She reached for him, her fingers brushing against his skin, warm and familiar, and it took everything in her not to pull him into her arms and never let go.

"I love you too much to keep pretending everything’s okay,” she said softly. “I’m falling apart, and it’s not fair to you.”

He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against hers, his breath shaky. “I don’t want to let you go” he whispered, his voice so broken it made her chest ache.

Tears spilled freely down her face as she shook her head, her fingers gently caressing his cheek. "I know," she whispered. "I don’t want to go either. But I can’t stay. Not like this."

He swallowed hard, his other hand guiding her chin so she was looking into his eyes.

The way he looked at her—the way his eyes, brimming with unshed tears, locked onto her—was like he was seeing Y/n for the first and the last time all at once.

"I’ll miss you" he breathed as he embraced her, the soft tremor in his voice shaking her.

"I’ll miss you too" she whispered, the words tasting like ashes on her tongue.

She tried to keep herself together, but the cracks in her heart were spreading, deepening, until she could barely breathe.

"I wish..." he breathed into her hair, his voice thick with emotion, but then he stopped, his words dying in the air.

"I know" she whispered, her heart breaking all over again.

There were so many things they wished for, so many things they wanted, but none of them mattered now. And they both knew it.

The quiet that settled between them was full of everything they couldn’t say, everything they were too afraid of.

She wanted to tell him that she wished things were different, that she wished she was stronger. but she couldn’t.

All she could do was hope that this wouldn’t hurt as much in a few weeks. But deep down, she knew it would.

Tears welled up in her eyes for the last time when she stepped away from him for the last time "I need you to know it’s not your fault, Lewis. You’ve been nothing but amazing."

His thumb brushed over the arm he could reach, almost as if he was drawing comfort from the motion. "It doesn’t make it easier, though, does it?"

She shook her head. "No. It doesn’t."

She wanted to stay like this forever, to keep holding on to him, but she knew she shouldn’t. They had already decided this was the end, and dragging it out would only make it hurt more.

"I should go" she whispered, voice cracking.

"I know" he replied, though the words felt like daggers.

She wanted to beg for him to get her to stay, but that wouldn’t be fair.

He shifted slightly, untangling their fingers, and the loss of that connection made her heart stutter.

She watched as he slowly backed away, his eyes still locked on her, like he was trying to memorize every detail of her face before it was too late.

As she turned to leave, her steps felt heavy, each one more painful than the last. She glanced over her shoulder, catching one final glimpse of him—standing there, watching her with that sad, broken smile.

He looked back, his eyes heavy with pain, and for a brief moment, she thought he might say something more, something to make this easier.

But he didn’t.

And then she was gone.

She had never felt so hollow, so empty. She had never known that love could hurt this much.

But now she did.

______________________________________________________________

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[fhrlclln]

ii. dorky!qimir x acolyte!fem!reader

a continuation to this small imagine

oopsie, maybe your teasing has gone too far on him, and he snaps finally. 🙂‍↕️😋😝

also thank u so much to all you 2.8k beautiful ppl for following me <3

nsfw/smut under the cut

｡･:*˚:✧｡

fuck.

he grits his teeth, seeing mae leaves him hanging- literally hanging. he should have foreseen this sooner, she was weak as his pupil. no loyalty whatsoever, his teachings all thrown to waste. and now he has to clean this whole mess up before she could head to osha and the others. the betrayal angers him, how dare she do this to him. when he had graciously accepted and taught her his ways.

he sighs, looking around, trying to find his satchel. knowing he left it somewhere near the body of water in the forest. he closes his eyes, hand reaching out to get his saber through the force. he’s about to pull through but a scrunch in the bushes stops him. his eyes widened, thinking a fucking animal has added to his current misery.

“oh, look what we have here.” nope, it was not an ordinary animal- it’s a predator. it seems his day has gotten worse as you appear by the flora, with an amused grin on your face. you’re dressed in your signature black robes, he guessed you might have followed through, remembering he had given you an order the other night before they left olega. that you were to follow mae’s every step from now on, and he’s actually proud you did.

“i need a little assistance here, please?” he speaks up, the ache on his arms and legs getting worse from hanging upside down.

“i’m guessing this is mae’s doing.” you hum, circling around him slowly. he closes his eyes, holding himself back from snapping. “well, it was bound to happen when her sister appeared. the master’s going to kill her.”

oh, he will.

“help me!” he whines, ashamed he fucking whined. of course, you don’t know yet that he’s your master, of course you’ll be torturing him until now.

“you’re so cute when you whine, qimyyyy.” you grinned devilishly, that nickname making his head hurt. “alright, what do i get in return, though?”

oh, his brain is literally going to explode any second now. “what do you want?” he groans, flaying his arms around as you stop in-front of him. resting your weight on one foot, and your hand resting on the curve of your hip. he momentarily glances at that, liking the way the leather leggings hug your curves- he stops himself from raking his eyes further, focusing on your thinking face, he’s a little bit dizzy now seeing you upside down.

“hmmm…” you think, finger tapping your chin. “how about another kiss?” you say with a sultry tone. he stutters for a moment, acting like he’s not wishing for it again. but he has no other choice but to be pathetic and agree, otherwise, what other things do you want in-return than a kiss? his blood rushes to his cheeks as he sighs, rubbing his face.

“alright!” the other rush of blood goes to his crotch when he stares at your lips, remembering that cheeky kiss you gave him that had him milking himself that night. “just get me down!”

“okay!” you laugh. “stay still.”

he expects you to use your lightsaber but what you do first is tiptoe up to examine the rope holding his feet, making you press your chest on his face. his eyes widened and his protests are muffled by your breasts. he can feel himself getting hard, loving each second of torture to be suffocated by your clothed breasts.

“this is not necessary!” he shouts, turning his head to the side as you still press your chest against his face. he moves his face around, trying to avoid your soft chest, but it made it seem like he’s… you know…

“if you want me to slice your feet off, stay still and quiet.” you tut, chuckling as you finally detach yourself from him, done assessing where you would cut. even though you could’ve cut anywhere higher from his feet. fuck, you still had to tease him when he’s almost gonna puke from being suspended in the air for too long.

you wink at him and he glares at you. you take your saber out of your belt, turning it on as the red light blinds him for a moment. you swiftly threw it to where the rope is, and he falls to the ground with a loud thud. your saber comes back to your hand in an instant. you giggled, crouching down beside him as you switch off your saber. he groans, face planted against the dirt. he slowly lifts himself up, that fall hurting his chest and forehead.

“you need a bath, qimir.” you suddenly said, brushing the leaves and twigs out on his hair. he rolled his eyes, and you still had to smile at him. that fucking smile he wishes he’ll turn into tears if he fucks you rough enough to get you to drop your torturous acts of teasing him.

“no shit.” he mumbles, letting his act drop for a moment. he looks up to you and you just smiled, not asking for the kiss he agreed to give you. “g-get it on with it.” he winces as he sits on the ground, ready for your lips to land on his. he’s looking like he doesn’t want to, but he so does want to.

“no.” you shrug, and he swears he might strangle you. “i’m reserving it for later when i get to mae. he’ll be pleased if i get to her first. and my reward will be you.” you stand up, looking at him like he’s your prey.

“just find mae.” he begs, more relieved that you’re now prioritizing to capture the ex-pupil for him. maybe he’ll reward you if you behaved like this more often.

“you stay right there, qimir!” you wave him a goodbye. he lets out a groan, still dizzy but a weight has been drop from his shoulders. he rolls his arms, now feeling through the force as his satchel comes flying to his hand. you’re so eager to please him, not knowing you’re literally torturing him. he grins to himself, thinking of a way to get back to you.

he’ll get to mae first.

・゜゜・．

in unfortunate circumstances, he had let his former pupil go. he was close to killing her, but alas, that jedi master had to intervene, along with her twin sister. they all had escaped from his clutches, now he has to formulate another plan if they ever come for him again. he tosses his hair back, the dirt and his sweat sticking onto his skin. he looks around for a moment in the quiet forest filled with the jedis he killed, the sun is almost up, he has to flee the planet now.

and you?

you are laid in-front of him, still unconscious after osha fired her stun blaster onto you when you were distracted in fighting her twin. he looks down to your peaceful figure, but you did well in defending him. you had no time to say anything when his helmet broke, only choosing to focus on eliminating the opponents. he thinks for a moment if he should wake you up, what would you react knowing the two of you are alone now?

your face suddenly stirred, consciousness finally coming back to you. you groaned awake, eyes fluttering open, your head and back hurts. you are momentarily confused where you are, but as you regained your vision, you feel his piercing gaze towards you as you now look up.

“shit.” you merely say, quickly sitting up. qimir’s lips tug to a smirk as he crouches down to your level. you try to think of something to say, but you avoid his eyes, feeling a little ashamed now.

“surprised?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, curious.

“uhm…” you don’t know what to say. his chest heaves, all his patience is snapping how you’re not saying anything. he grips your jaw roughly, forcing you to look at him. your eyes widened, a look of fear crosses your face. “m-master!”

“you know, i don’t appreciate getting teased like that.” he stares down at your lips and your glossy eyes. “you’re a brat, you know?”

you fluttered your lashes. “i try. you gonna kiss me?” you had the audacity to be a tease now. his eyes darkened, all logic in his brain snaps. he pulls you forward, you’re about to protest but his lips captures yours harshly. you make a sound, but it’s muffled by his lips. he expects you to kiss back, but you stay frozen but evident you want to kiss him the way your arms grip his broad shoulders. he doesn’t fucking care if this all wrong, that he’s your master and you are his pupil, you started all of this.

“open your mouth.” he says between his kisses. you wanted your reward a kiss right? you let out a whine as you hesitantly obeyed him. “come on, open your fucking mouth.”

you obey him, you’re now pulling him towards you as his tongue delves in to clash with yours. you let out a moan, teeth are clashing, tongues are circling around each other, how messy and hot your kisses are. as if you both were trying to quench the thirst for each other. he circles his arms to wrap around your waist, he sits back, pulling you to sit on his lap. you followed, sitting directly on his crotch as that made him groan.

your hands went up to his hair, tangling your fingers in his messy black locks as his hands groped your ass. your thoughts are everywhere, still ashamed you had teased the fuck out of your master. you were not blame really, with how cute he acted, he’s the cause of all of your sweet torture on him. you start to grind against him, your core rubbing against his hard-on. you smirk, how affected he is with you.

you break the kiss, lips wet and swelling, a string of saliva connects to his own glossy lips as he stared at you. you’re desperate now, gliding your hands down from his hair to his chest, rubbing his muscles.

“how many times did you said you wanna ride me, huh?” he asks now, gripping your ass. you let out a whine, giggling as you shrug.

“many times.” you answered, not even ashamed now. a loud smack suddenly makes you yelp, he slapped your ass hard as he chuckled, massaging your stinging asscheek.

“then that’s how many times you’re gonna do it now, sweetheart.” he darkly says, voice husky. you smiled, nodding as things escalated quickly. your top is thrown somewhere, his upper part of his black robe is removed, and he’s fiddling with your leather bottoms to get it off you while he sucks your nipple. you cradle the nape of his neck, arching your back for him to easily play with your breasts. you lift your hips up for him to remove it easily, you quickly detach yourself from him for a moment removing your leggings as he pushed his bottoms downwards to spring his cock out.

he lets out a shameful groan, gripping himself as his tip was flushed red, precum oozing out. you bit your lip, mesmerized by the sight of his cock. you crawled back to him, wanting to suck him off.

“another time.” he stops you before you could suck his tip. you frown but obeyed him. he guides you to hover above him, kissing your neck, littering it with love bites. he has been thinking about this a lot, jerking himself in those lonely nights in the shop from your crude words that you wanted to do many things with him. he glances to your cunt, his cock twitching at the sight of how wet you are.

“you’re so big.” you whined, gripping him as you guide it to your entrance. he lets out a groan, his tip rubbing against your soft entrance. everything feels warm, the coldness of the morning is shielded by both of your body heats. he stares down, seeing as you finally let him in, slowly taking him inside of you.

“t-that feels so good.” he can’t help but say, rolling his eyes back at the wave of pleasure when your walls wrap around him snugly. you let out a cry, feeling full as you slowly pushed your hips down to really let him in. he’s so big that you wonder if you’ll be split in half when you start bouncing him.

“qimir…master.” you moan his name out. he swears he almost busted himself when you called him master. finally taking him all in as you sit on his abdomen. fuck, he feels like he’s about to cum how deep he’s in your cunt. you shuddered, feeling every inch of his cock fill inside you. there’s a relaxing silence as only both of your labored breaths are heard. his chest rises, hands settling on your hips, ready to guide you to start moving.

“that’s it, good girl. grind for me.” he praises as you started to grind back and forth. the friction of pleasure hitting you both hard. you place your hands on his muscled chest, rubbing back and forth to his abs. you close your eyes, back arching as he sucks your nipples again. you finally start to bounce on him, his hands guiding you. “come on, fuck me.”

“i am!” you groan out, bouncing more harshly now. he moans your name out, hands caressing down to your ass. he slaps the soft flesh again, making you whine. your breasts are jiggling in-front of his from your erratic movements. he watches in awe, how beautiful you are bouncing on his cock. you suddenly kiss him, hot and messy, he kisses back the same.

he loves this, he loves the feel of warm cunt wrapped around him, and your sweaty skin sticking to his. both of you are so lost in the pleasure of one another, not caring if anyone would see the two of you in the forest. he feels your walls clench tight around him. he feels himself near his high, the familiar knot in his stomach forming.

“i’m close.” you whisper dumbly against his lips. he nods, pressing his forehead against yours as your eyes fluttered open to stare at his orbs. the look of your face as him moaning, how dumb you look when you’re finally bouncing on his cock just like you had teased at him days ago. he sees your brows furrow, bouncing more wildly now, signaling you’re about to come. he helps you near your high as his other hand goes down to rub your swollen clit.

“m-maker-!” you let out a gurgled sound as he roughly kisses you again. your whole body stuttered, clenching his cock tight as he roughly thrusts his hips up as your orgasm hits you hard. the sound of harsh skin slapping fills your ears as you let him fuck him you, and he was nearing his end. he lets out a sound of pleasure, gripping your hips down as the tip of his cock hits your cervix as he fills you up with his cum.

“f-fuck.” he stutters, holding you down as you hug his neck, feeling dizzy at the intensity of your orgasm. you nuzzle your face in his neck, kissing his soft skin, inhaling his earthy scent as you let out a sigh. he drops his tight grip on your ass, caressing your marked skin. both of your hearts are beating loudly, chests are heaving.

“good girl.” he kisses the side of your face, hands caressing your back now. you hum in response, too fucked-out to say something as you just had the best orgasm you had in your life. his cock is still snug inside you, both of your spends mixing as it oozes out of you and coats his prick. you slowly sit up now, placing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as you peck his lips. he blinks softly, a smile tugging his lips. he taps your thigh suddenly, motioning you to ready yourself. you two were not done yet. he’s gonna fuck the shit out of you from all the torture you had done to him until you beg him to stop. you know this as you rolled your eyes at him as he suddenly starts to thrusts his hips up, the overstimulation making you yelp.

“come on. we’re not done yet, brat.”

｡･:*˚:✧｡

this (i think) is the hottest and freakiest shit i have ever written. 🥵

[yyawnjun]

hello! hehe can i req how piwon would act with s/o who have lower body temperature on average? like wydm you're shivering... it's autumn. tqvm babe!!!! 😆

PIWON with a s/o who has lower body temperature on average

AYY!! first piwon ask, it felt so special, tysm for requesting it. I hope I get it right, like his s/o is actually" feel the cold"(tell me if I didn't get it, I will change and rewrite). I hope you will like it <3 ; I also wrote hcs for the first timee, how are we feeling !!

fluff ; @sobun1est MY FAAAVVV PROOFREADER even during my phone cb </3 ; 1.7k wc ; @kflixnet

YOON KEEHO

☆ i feel he'd be confused at first, like wdym you mentioned that you needed to take your jacket when your going out during a SUMMER night for your date.

☆ if there would have been a little breeze, it should not have been THAT cold. anyway he remembered what you said, and when you were about to leave your place to go out for dinner he noticed that you didn't take your jacket.

☆ he was about to remind you, but he saw first HIS jacket lying on the sofa. so he opted to bring it…so you'd be forced to wear his

☆ even though you had warned him that you were more sensitive to the cold than the others bc of your low body temperature, he was still shocked when he noticed that you were starting to feel cold while you were walking near the sea.

☆ he was holding your hand and he noticed it getting colder, and you were shivering while looking for your coat.

☆ “were you looking for this” he'd say in the most cheesy tone ever while handing you his jacket

☆ you'd be confused at first bc you were searching YOURS.

☆ but then you'd accept it after realizing the sweet gesture, and he just laughs a bit, trying to be cool but internally feeling so proud while seeing you with his jacket!!!!

☆ I feel this would happen so many times that you'd just start always using his jackets instead of yours. they still smelled like him and reminded you of him, plus his style is fire; a total win for you (and for him)

☆ I also think that you'd have to remind him a few times about your low body temperature, and even so, he'd have trouble remembering, but it would become like a tradition for him to ALWAYS bring an extra jacket to give you 😭😭.

CHOI TAEYANG

☆ here me out. third date with theo, and you're sitting on a bench in a park. It's like late evening on an autumn day, so it was a bit colder than usual and a light wind was moving the leaves.

☆ while he was talking, you'd start shaking a bit, trying to keep it cool for as much as you can while doing your best to not look too mesmerized by the big jacket he was wearing.

☆ he had immediately noticed that your outfit was too light for the evening (but in your defense, it was too cute to be covered up!) but he hadn't said anything (except how pretty you looked)

☆ he would notice how cold you were, but he would also be quite cold because of the weather.... so in the first few minutes, he would be torn between offering you his jacket or not (you did not dare to ask him for it…)

☆ BUT IN THE END OFC HE GAVE IT TO YOU, without saying anything…just in time for you to not catch a cold.

☆(he would then feel guilty for doing it so late when you explained to him that bc of your lower temperature, you felt much more the cold,,)

☆ he would scold you a little because you were dressed too lightly!!!. and you needed to take care of yourself (otherwise, how could you have gone out on dates again!).

☆ but I promise he'd BLUSH so hard after hearing that you cared so much about your outfit for him that you choose it over your own good😭😭

☆ in the end, I also feel that it would be you two sharing his jacket on the bench (on one hand bc he wanted to be closer to you, on the other bc you needed more warmth!)

☆ and he was getting cold too, but he'd never admit it </3.

☆ it would be just the two of you, sharing the same jacket as a comforting warmth spread.

HWANG INTAK

☆ I feel intak would be the exact opposite of you

☆ he'd be like a warm heater all of the time. I think that just being around him would warm you up.

☆ and oh boy, how much he'd use this excuse to stay closer to you.

☆ “we need to sit next to each other! bc what if you start getting colder and we are far away” - cit intak after moving his chair next to yours in a romantic restaurant just bc he wanted to eat next to you.

☆ he'd be your personal giant hotpack 24/7, and when he isn't w you, he'd give you some of his hot packs/hoodies to use in case you needed

☆ how much he'd brag about your different "perception” of temperature. he would use this excuse to grab your hand ALWAYS, no matter if you were actually shivering or not

☆ like imagine you're mad at him, and hes just like a super sweet golden retriever that came closer to you and take your hand

☆ “otherwise you would be cold” he whispers while not looking at you.

☆ and HOW can you stay mad at him, while his hand is warming up yours and you two are walking together..and your gazes keep meeting..

☆ or imagine sharing a blanket with him during a cold winter; while watching TV you'd have not only the warmth from the cozy blanket but also from the heat of your boy!!

☆ (And I picture him wearing only a light shirt and short pants while being a heater for you without even noticing but LOVING the closeness to you).

CHOI JIUNG

☆ I feel he'd be the most WORRIED and so the most caring between all of them <3

☆ not only hotpack, but also scarfs, jackets, hats, etc. his backpack would always be so full of things to keep you warm anytime😭

☆ I can see him even find out about the “causes” and what he could do to help you in all situations; esp at first he'd keep asking how you wereand if you needed something

☆ imagine being at a party with jiung, maybe you were there with your friends now sitting somewhere while laughing and drinking

☆ and you suddenly feel something or someone putting his arms around your shoulders and his head on yours.

☆ “your face is cold” he said after kissing your cheeks. “wanna go home?” he'd ask you. and after you asked for five more minutes he'd RUN to bring you his jacket <3

☆ and the way he'd giggle and smile when he sees how helpful he is everytime.

☆ this boy would ended up forgetting to bring his own things to always have yours, and you'd force him to wear your sweaters

☆ and now you'd be the one giggling and smiling for his new style. <3

HAKU SHOTA

☆ silently helping you ALWAYS. I imagine it while you were waiting for the bus to come and you'd start shaking a little, maybe complaining out loud how cold the weather was getting

☆ the boy wouldn't wait a sec before taking you by the hand and bringing you to the nearest coffee shop. hot chocolate? hot tea? yes. you'd have that in front of you before you could even REALIZE where you were.

☆ “put some sugar, it will help to your temperature to come back to normal”

☆ I feel that in some magic way he'd already known that you were getting too cold outside. and no matter how important it was to take that bus, your health was more important anyway.

☆ and i feel he would start memorizing some coffee places to bring you in case you were out and you were feeling cold all of sudden.

☆ i am so sure he'd always have hot packs with the funniest decorations for you

☆ and he'd always remind you to bring your coats, you two would even have like one specific emoji and you'd just remember to bring it

☆ “we should hold hands, so mines can warm yours” he'd say naturally while taking your hand (and blushing a lot but w/o adding anything or looking at you)

☆ so you two would just start walking hand in hand, saying that it was for your own good!(And you and you have never denied this…)

KIM JONGSEOB

☆ I feel he'd find it funny how you were always cold while it was so hot outside. he’d tease you at first, "c’mon it's autumn and you are already so cold..this winter might be the end of you"

☆ but as soon as you'd take five minutes to explain him how the affects you the fact that have lower body temperature on average he'd feel bad for joking about it and he'd start taking you more seriously 😭

☆ still, it would take him a while to get used to it. and there would have been times when you two would be forced to run a bit bc you were starting to be really cold. and he had no other options other than “run a little to warm up”

☆ i can't stop picturing seob and his s/o while walking together during an early morning(maybe going to school together!!) and by chance seeing a cat on the street.

☆ you would immediately get closer to the cat and seob would follow. you two would slowly try to get closer to pet the cat and you'd magically succeed!! you two would start petting the cat and he would feel how cold your hands were.

☆ “yn are you cold?” he says while gently stocking your hands.

☆ and one slight nod was enough for him to take your hands and try to use his to warm you up. he would take your hands and caress them, while bringing them closer to his face to give you hot air and warm them up.

☆ and if this isn't enough he'd have the perfect idea after remembering how cats were able to warm themselves thanks to their fur.

☆ and now there is two options for how it goes

☆ OPTION ONE: he manages to take the cat and gently put it on your legs. so now you just sit with him next to you, while the warm of the cat would warm u up too <3

☆ OPTION TWO: you two would ended up running after that poor cat, and you would inevitability warm up bc of the run (run method never fails)😭

[slutshamethesquirrels]

Superbloom - Part 3

tws: abuse, domestic violence, self harm and suicidal ideations

pairing: cc!satosugu x reader

part 2

Gojo stays up impossibly late. When he's home, you try your best to keep him company, but often end up nodding off on the couch, or the floor. One time you even fell asleep with your head down on the dining room table beside your late night bowl of cereal, spoon still in hand. You couldn't remember it, but Gojo found it greatly amusing.

You always woke up in your bed though.

Did he touch you when he carried you there? Or did he scoop you up with the infinite barrier between himself and the rest of the world? Did he brush your hair away from your face, rest his cheek against your forehead as he cradled you?

You couldn't imagine he did. Sensory input seemed to be a sort of hurdle for him.

He liked taste. Particularly sugar, but oftentimes he could also be lured away from responsibility by way of food trucks and pop up shops with menus that may as well be eligible to him. Different combinations of taste and texture seemed to fascinate him. There was something very human in those moments; the tilt of his head and the slow maneuvering of his jaw. It seemed it was only in those fleeting moments he could entirely lose himself in the sensation of something new.

Sight was a curse, quite literally. You’d learned the blindfold was more than just a comfort, more than just a mask. Occasionally he'd come home from missions and fall face first into the couch swearing he’s fine, but you knew better. There was a tension in his shoulders that only seemed to ease when all the lights were off and the only sound was your colliding breathing. You’d sit on the floor in front of him and worry, so loud you'd think he could probably hear it until his breathing slowed. You couldn't carry Gojo to bed if you tried, but you'd retrieve his blanket from his room and pull it up over his sleeping form only to watch it hover a few inches above his slumbering frame. You wondered if it was still warm.

And touch?

You wouldn't know. You aren't sure he would either.

He treated infinity like a party trick, throwing up invisible walls for you to walk into for a quick laugh, or blocking your chopsticks from reaching your lips– he especially loved it when you got irritated enough to throw something at him.

Little reminders of how untouchable he truly was.

It was lonely.

You hadn't gone so long without being touched in years. At first you missed the obvious: the kisses, the cuddles, the sex– but you knew you were truly broken when Gojo had come home fuming after a meeting with the higher ups and you got excited over the idea that he might lose it enough to hit you.

He didn't. He wouldn't.

Instead he stormed past you, his infinity bumping you roughly out of the way and made a b-line for his room, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rattle the walls.

The loneliness only grows.

Day fades to evening fades to night. You fill the time with instant ramen and doom scrolling through social media.

You know you shouldn't check, but you can't stop yourself from pulling up Suguru's instagram.

He loved pictures. You'd always had the feeling that he was a little vain, but he would swear it was all about the image.

He didn't post often, but when he did the comments we're always flooded with new age spirituality bullshit. Praising him and his “healing”, stroking his ego about his “divine masculine” energy. You had half a mind to tell these people that man had a better skincare routine than you did, but decide against it.

Something catches your eye.

His most recent post was liked by Manami.

You knew better than to open her profile, because seeing her name alone makes your stomach churn and your blood boil. It almost feels good-

“Y/n?”

Gojo's voice snaps you out of your trance and you drop your phone with a clatter against the table. If he's curious, he doesn't say so. It seems like there are other things on his mind.

“Pack your bags.”

The words cut through you like a hot knife, nausea welling up in your gut.

What was wrong with you that this kept happening? And even more importantly, where would you run to if not to Gojo? You’d lost all connections when you decided to follow Suguru in his defection, and not even a coffee shop would be impressed by “highschool dropout” written in the fine print of your resume.

Still, what was there to do?

“Okay.” It comes out muted, shakey.

“We’ll be there for an entire week, and it's gonna be cold, so choose your outfits accordingly.”

Oh.

Relief floods you. You take a breath you didn't know you'd been denying yourself.

Planes are nice, but nowhere near being better than rides on Suguru’s curses. Still, you lean against the window, watching the expansive sea trail out for miles below you, wondering how it’d feel to drop right there in the middle. One would assume it’d be peaceful, but you knew better. People said water burned when it entered your lungs.

Still, there must be something interesting down there. Perhaps a sunken ship, or plane– just like the one you were on now. Or maybe something less human, something darker.

You’d never find out under the watchful eye of Gojo, who by all means looked relaxed. His long legs were stretching obnoxiously into your space, his fingers interlocked behind his head, tipped back like he hadn’t a care in the world, and yet you knew that something was eating at him. Whatever this mission was, it had him pissed, though he wouldn’t divulge exactly what had him so riled. It came through in subtle bursts- flares of his nostrils, clenches of his fists, impatient legs jiggling and jostling your seat with every move.

“Gojo.” You scold, moving to rest your hand against his ever bouncing knee but being stopped just a few inches short.

A grin cracks across his face like lighting; violent and bright.

“Yes?”.

He jiggles his leg harder. If it were anyone else, you’d punch them, but this was Gojo. Not only did you have a particular sort of patience for his class clown behavior, but you also couldn’t– the fact that he paid your rent being just as big of a placater as the physical inability to do so.

So you choose a different route.

“Are you nervous or something? Awfully jittery over there.” Your tone lets him know it’s an accusation, not a question.

He freezes, and then sneers “Please. I don’t get nervous.”.

He stays still for the rest of the ride.

Gojo had warned you it would be cold, and you should’ve known he meant you’d be staying in a glorified desert of ice and snow. Another thing about him that hadn’t changed; overstating the inconsequential and understating the important. Not that you had access to clothing of that caliber anyway. You hadn’t left the temple unless tucked under Geto’s arm in all your years away, there was no need for anything other than the uber-casual. Sweatpants, jeans, leggings and t-shirts. You had traditional wear as well, but you’d left it in your room back at the temple. There was no way you were ever donning that again.

The early morning light is played like a game of tennis across the expansive white of the snow-laden rooftops and sidewalks and Gojo’s luminescent features. Both are too light to be accepting of any new particles of light, rejecting the sun's warmth with a beautiful type of determination.

“Fuck.”

The word spat through Gojo’s colgate teeth to some would detract from the beauty, but you’d been taught the debauchery and violence went well with beauty, so it only felt natural.

He shocks you by yanking the blindfold off of his face, scrunching his face up against the blinding light, his features almost wound as tight as his thick knuckles gripping the steering wheel of the rental car. The cold chill that seeps into you isn’t coming from outside, but from somewhere deep in your core.

His eyes had always been beautiful, would’ve been enough to jostle you with a fair warning all those years ago, but with the blindfold removed it was even easier to see just how much he’d grown since then. His features were developed, sharp and smooth all at the same time, with sparse boyish details painted into his aura. Fluttering lashes, long and stark white, soft cheeks and round eyes that– stunned you. You could almost see a faint glow emitting from his pupils, a myriad of memories and lessons and raw power emanating from his gaze. They were horrifying.

They were beautiful.

He flops his blindfold in your lap and motions to his bag in the backseat.

“My glasses are in the front pocket, be a peach and grab them for me?”.

When you turn around to fulfill his request you see exactly what he was perturbed by. A white cop car with ghost detailing on the sides.

“Awwwh, Gojo’s scared of pigs!” You coo as you fish around in the front zipper of his suitcase, smiling to yourself when he laughs. It sounds like caramel tastes; the kind of sweetness that would only come from burning something just right.

He was fun to tease, sometimes.

“Don’t feel like having to make pork chops because they pull me over for driving with my vision obscured.”

Gojo leaves you at the rental cabin with a strict set of rules. You’re not to leave under any circumstances. Stay indoors and away from windows, and when nightfall comes, all lights are to be turned off and left that way. If anyone approaches, you are to act like you’re not there.

You asked him why.

He said you were weak.

It didn’t take you long to discover there was no service this far out in the sticks. You busy yourself as best you can, wandering around the far too large estate and yanking open cabinets and doors like you might find something spectacular (or horrifying) awaiting you.

The best it had to offer was a mostly empty bottle of cleaner under the bathroom sink and a brown recluse in an empty closet. You tell him (her?) hello but she doesn’t respond, so you decide it best to leave him to his biddings. He was here first, after all.

It’s when the sun sets that you really start to lose it.

You’d never been afraid of the dark before, so why now did it feel like it was suffocating you?

The walls seemed to be closing in, tighter and tighter until you felt as if you were pushing on the edges of your own coffin, buried six feet beneath the damp earth. Maggots gnawed at your flesh, rainwater seeped in through the cracks and somewhere you hear Suguru yelling your name. He sounds displeased.

You fumble in the darkness until your hands find a wall and you trace it, blindly feeling for anything that might give you a sense of direction in the unfamiliar environment. The disorientation is blinding, the heat from your hammering pulse making the air burn with every intake.

Suguru would be disgusted, to see you flailing and fumbling in the dark all because you were simply left alone with your own thoughts for too long.

Weak.

You hand finds cool metal and you recognize the familiar sensation of a knob against your palm, turning and throwing the door open without a second thought.

It's no brighter, but the freezing night air shocks your nervous system, hitting you like a brick to the throat– like the hand of a lover.

You take a shuddering gasp, and then two, and then three, until you finally feel some sense of sanity again.

Your eyes adjust to the moonlight, and you can make out the white fields that seem to stretch on for as far as the eye can see. The snow quiets the sounds of nature, quiets the kick drum in your chest.

Your back slowly presses against the cool wall of the house behind you, exhaustion wracking your frame as you come down from your panic. It's real, you tell yourself, it's all real. The wind nipping at your skin, slicing through the thin fabric of your clothing. The shards of razor sharp snow and ice caught in said wind that feels like they’re stabbing through your body. It all hurts. It makes you homesick.

You can't say for sure when you end up on the freezing surface of the covered porch on your side, curled into yourself, but you stay there, relishing in the feeling of the cold burn, thinking that if you close your eyes the frost bite on your jawline kind of feels like Suguru's teeth. Sharp.

Sleep overtakes you, eventually.

You dream of nothing.

[torchstelechos]

sometimes i think about the scene where Siffrin has a momentary breakdown over the Universe watching and clapping and not doing anything to help, to lead, and i wonder about an interpretation where the Universe is helping, is leading, is telling them what to do. where the Universe is favoring one of the two people from the Country like the King calls out. its us, the Player, the ones that 'create' their universe in a sense by installing and playing the game and leading Siffrin around through it

i wonder if it'd make it better or worse for him in that moment if they could look through that glass window to the stars above and see a glimpse of how helpless we, the Universe, were in that moment too, trying to guide him and failing just as much as everyone else

do you get me. does this make any sense.

Okay Bell, you do not fucking get how much this means to me. I have been on the theory of “the universe is actually the players” since I started wandering about this fandom. I do think ALL the players are part of the universe, but are not the universe as a whole. Like, one player is one star and yes, they are part of the overall universe, but there are more stars to see in the same universe so they aren't the universe specifically. My reasoning for this is actually part of how I see Loop’s wish, and thus I get to discuss how I think wishcraft works alongside Loop’s wish and how it affected the timeline. >:3c 

First, I will be using a general assumption of 1.) The looping only affected Vaugarde like The King’s “curse” 2.) There is only one Timeline and 3.) The theory Path of Least resistance (will be explained in conjunction with wishcraft).

As I have mentioned in a previous post I do think that Siffrin’s wish piggybacked off the King’s wish and used it as a blueprint for how far the Timecraft went, which meant that it only turned back the time of Vaugarde. The King says, when asked about wishcraft: 

He says that the country is skipping, stopping, rewinding, restarting, and how that must look from the outside. Which! I would like to point out that the king is NOT a reliable source of information because the King will lie to get you to lower your guard, however! It’s corroborated by the change god, even if they don't implicitly state it, during the Who’s on the Phone event they say: 

“Dormont, repeating! Dormont, Unchanging! Stagnating!” + “In this bubble, where everything stays the exact same…” The Change god also acknowledges that the extent of Timecraft is smaller than the whole world and specifies Dormont, which is the last place affected by the Time Curse (and thus the last place to change in all of Vaugarde). I would take this to mean that the whole world is still going on while Vaugarde is, well, glitching like a DVD with scratches. 

Next, which I think a lot of people tend to skip over, is that there is only one timeline! This is confirmed by Insertdisc5 (Adrienne), on Tumblr on their ISAT spoiler Q&A: 

Which has such interesting implications, but it does help explain something that I want to connect with the third assumption!

Now! The path of least resistance theory! Craft is an energy based magic, which uses the users energy unless powered by an outside force (however it appears to still take energy to direct the craft). This means that it has rules and if I had to guess, is very similar to electricity. Electricity doesn’t actually only go down one path when we apply this theory, instead it has an inverse in output depending on the resistance of the path. So if one path has less resistance then it will have more energy go down that path with more output, if the other has more resistance than that path will have less output/energy. We can apply this to wishcraft and how it affected the outcome of the two wishes that directly went against each other, the Kings and Siffrin’s wishes. Since Siffrin had a lot of energy behind his wish and the king less, Siffrin’s wish went above the King’s own in regards to who ended up with their wish “granted.” (the output was greater due to the fact it was less resistant to the whole of Vaugarde’s wish + Loop’s wish)

So, with all this written out, how do we the Players come into this? :3c well… We are a self contained paradox wish! Siffrin’s initial wish was to (insert one of the initial options) and “You want to stay with them!” which is the wish that caused the Timecraft ability for Timelooping (if I wanted to be pedantic I would actually say Siffrin can Travel time and isn't looping but that's a whole ass other post). This wish DID NOT bring us to the loops nor did it give Siffrin a guide, it was just a wish made to stay with people already in this timeline/universe. This made it impossible for outside help as it was VERY specific to only this universe, “stay with them.” But when Siffrin gave up, they made a secondary wish, 

(Loop: For someone… Anyone, to help me!!!)

This wish let us, The Players, directly able to interact with ISAT and SAAP. As they reached out into the universe and called for help, the Universe answered by letting outside help interact with timeline by guiding the new Siffrin. We are only able to help out by Loop making this wish! But, now, how does that make us a self contained paradox wish? Well… Thats because in order for the wish to happen, we needed to help Loop make the wish in the first place! By playing the SAAP, we helped Loop get to a position in which they made the wish which allowed us to help them which allowed them to make the wish etc etc. 

Thus we the players are now able to continue helping out when the timeline goes forward into ISAT, alongside Loop who’s wish allowed for a second try (a Start again if you will). 

The reason I also added the other information is because I think its important to remember that craft takes energy, and what Loop says about their wish is that they “destroyed” themself rather than “destroy the world” which… I think it means that Loop basically blew up like the Big Bang rather than become a Black Hole like Siffrin did. This “restarted” the timeline as a whole rather than just Vaugarde as we can see differences in Loop’s timeline and Siffrin’s, and if they’re the same timeline why are there such big differences? Well, yeah,,, Loop remade the entirety of the timeline rather than just Vaugarde… Oops! Big Bang, yaknow? Its still a singular Timeline, it’s just that it restarted the timeline’s progress pretty far back as a whole rather than specific segments. Also, Loop doesnt appear to help until after the initial ISAT wish, so we can just assume that the Universe plucked them from their wish making directly into this timeline section. 

As for why I added the whole Path of Least Resistance Theory for wishcraft… that’s cause Siffrin having Loop’s wish actually helped guide Vaugarde’s wishes into an easier path which allowed them beat the King easier <3. Without Loop’s wish, it would have been impossible for Siffrin to actually progress and get out of the loops alive. Lol. ANYWAY, this is all to say, I do think the Universe is a separate entity to the Players BUT by virtue of how the Players interact with Siffrin I would say we are part of the universe via proxy measures. :3c

This really got away from me,,, hope this is all good and understandable I had to use a google doc to write this all out,,,,

[starfxkrreloaded]

⋆｡°✩ being sarahs best friend who moved from the cut, and during a sleepover one day she's just poking through your stuff untl she finds this litle rinky dink camera that she knows you carry around sometimes so she's going through it while you're in the shower. and it's nothing crazy at first--the two of you together, different parties, overall fun moments.

but you scrolls back a little further, about a year or so, and all of a sudden you're somewhere unfamiliar. it's dingier, woodier, more simplistic. it's gotta be back on the cut, and you're not the one holding the camera. someone else is, it's some guy with the lens trained on the way another guy--blonde this time--is gripping your things. you're standing, barely, slurring and leaning on the blonde one for support as he gropes at you in your bikini and tiny shorts.

told you dude, s'like we got our own porn star over here' he punctuates his action with a light bounce to your breast, pulling the damp triangle to the side so the cameraman can zoom in.

cmon jj don't say that, we gotta have some dignity about this'

all 3 of you sounded drunk, and you and jj were clearly far gone--kissing hard and deep as he pinched you nipple and shoved a hand down your shorts at the same time.

the unseen voice grabs your face, turning to his direction and sarah can see a little glimpse of him when he leans in to kiss you; curly brown hair, soft lips. its enough to make you groan, and blonde greedy because you're tugged out of the way so the two can kiss. sarah feels her whole body flush hot, she's used to seeing girls for a guy, but this is something new entirely.

you always do that, john b wanted to kiss me.

there's a bit of a shuffle, and sarah can't see anything, not until he sets the camera down, and she sees you on the bed, the blonde boy behind you holding your leg up as he pushes inside your ass. even in the crappy quality sarah can see you're wet--puffy lips glistening in the low light and she swears she can see a trickle of arousal drip down your thigh.

"oh my god..."

john b hurry up, i can't wait anymore i need both.

alright sweetheart relax, tell our boy to slow it down back there.

jj slows his thrusts just enough for john b to push into your cunt, and sarah almost gasps at how thick he is, he look's like he's gonna tear you in two. but all 3 of you let out some sort exclamation, and sarah's clit throbs at the sight, but the shower's turned off now and she knows there's only so much time left.

fuckfuckfuck oh my god. you're stuck between them, forced to take the dual pounding in a cacophony of moans and grunts as you start to squirm, god i'm gonna cum.

just as your voice reaches a pitch you come out the bathroom, skin still steaming as you finish rubbing your lotion in and sarah only had a split second to sit on the camera. hoping the minuscule chaos helped cover the sound as she shut it off

"the fuck's wrong with you?" you giggle as you walk past her to your dresser, dropping the towel leaving sarah to stare, watching you bend down to pull your panties on.

she glances in the mirror, and sees how flushed she looks, "oh just, opened the hidden replies on twitter. wasn't expecting that."

you snort, throwing on an oversized shirt that says Hayward's Seafood, and turning around, "don't know why it's always some crazy shit. come lady down i wanna watch a movie."

sarah does what you say, her body finally calming from the scene she witnessed but now all she can focus on is the warm vanilla scent of your skin and a picture she never paid too much attention to above your headboard.

"so, who are those two guys you're with here?"

[thewritetofreespeech]

Delicos nursery!?! Fic requests!?! Please please~~

Dino classic marries a plus size woman who at first seems cold but is a total sweetheart and just doesn't understand why people are afraid of her husband? She adores her step son like her own and even call him teddy for short? I love the sunshine x grumpy trope!

There were many things Dino liked about being an aristocrat. Power. The prestige. Being apart of the inner circle of their society.

The one thing he hated about being an aristocrat was the parties.

But, if you wanted to be apart of the inner circle, and get the power & prestige, there were a certain number of social events that were an unspoken mandatory for a man of his station. Particularly one with a new wife, whom he was obligated to introduce to society as such. What a bore.

Luckily, his new wife was much more adept at these kind of things than him. Bright and bubbly, with a family almost grievously overconnected, his new wife took to the party like a fish to water. Talking to everyone and making efforts to re-introduce herself to old friends & new as the current Lady Classico.

Dino entertained himself back in a corner. A position he had grown comfortable with since he was a young man forced onto these parties; until his mother made him come out and talk to people, as he was never going to get married rooted to the ground like a wallflower. He just liked to watch more than participate. He felt it was easier to gauge the situation, gather intel, from the sidelines than in the fray. Plus people being near him always seemed to make his skin crawl.

A while later he noticed his wife coming over to him. A noticeable, deep pout on her lips. One he had never seen; save for the pretend ones she threw at him when she wanted to get her way. This one seemed real though. “What’s the matter?”

“These people are rude.”

This shocked Dino. As he had also never heard his wife speak ill of anyone either. She always seemed to find the good in others. Found the good in him. “How so?”

“They make underhanded comments about you and seem to think I’m too stupid to understand them.” Dino frowned at that. His wife was not stupid. They could say what they wanted about him, some of it probably true, but they would not speak ill of his wife. “Would you…be terribly disappointed if we go? I do not want to make a bad impression, but I also do not think I can screw on a smile much longer?”

Disappointed? Dino thought. He’d jump up an’ click his heels, if only his back would ever forgive him. “Of course. I’ll have our coats and coach sent for.” His wife smiled. Seeming to want to kiss him in her enthusiasm, but remembering they were in public.

Dino instead took her hand in his and kissed her glove where his ring would be. “Could we also take some cakes home for Teddy?” She had taken to calling Theodore that. At first he tried to talk her out of it, but she commented that he was just so cute. Theodore didn’t seem to mind (in fact he seemed to enjoy it judging by his blush) so Dino let it go. “I know you don’t like him to have many sweets but…once in a while can’t hurt. They’ll just throw them away at the end of the night anyway.”

He glanced at the elaborate dessert table. Days of work for the host’s staff. Barely touched. All to go to waste as she predicted. “Take two. The two of you can have them after dinner tomorrow night.” His wife grinned and scurried off to the table to collect her sweets while he called for their coach.

When they arrive home it is late, but not too far gone. His staff greet their new lady and she made quick work to greet them back before running upstairs to try and catch Theodore before bed. He was likely up reading late anyway.

Dino stood there in the foyer, watching her go, before he looked down at the parcel of cakes suddenly in his hands. He opened the lid to see what she had picked and smiled. Not surprised to see 3 slices instead of 2. See, his wife was very clever. She seemed to have no end to surprising him.

[sceletaflores]

•｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ wip wednesday!

thanks for the tag angel baby @guiltyasdave <3 • 18+ under the cut! MDNI!

wip #1 • far too familiar a stranger…feat. logan howlett (& crimson!)

a long time ago, logan howlett knew a woman with your face…

i couldn’t not write a ‘worst!logan coming face to face with his tragically dead love interest but from wade’s universe after wade forced her to help them stop the TVA and hating her for bringing up that time in his life until he doesn’t anymore’ fic.

it's crimson because i felt that making whole new mutant reader would be sort of confusing so this fic is in the to the bone universe but it's not the same timeline...if that makes sense lmao

Wade Wilson is the worst neighbor in the entire fucking world. It’s really something you should have known sooner, like ‘the very first day in your new place ending with him breaking in through your window fully suited up after counting the floors wrong and bleeding all over your brand new pottery barn throw rug because he was still a little too concussed to walk’ sooner. Even after that whole fiasco left you with a broken window latch and a beyond fucked non-refundable $80 carpet, you still let yourself entertain his crazy. Just like everyone else whose life Wade crashed into, both physically or metaphorically. And once he's in, you can never really get him back out again. So yeah, maybe this whole thing is your fault. Maybe getting thrown into a barren, dusty void with two somewhat failed X-Men is just all your bad karma manifesting in one huge finger from the universe.

wip #2 • red and yellow kill a fellow! feat. logan howlett & wade wilson

logan doesn’t appreciate you letting wade get one up on him…

finally finally finally getting off my ass and writing logan x reader x wade! i was inspired by this one episode of satc (which is like my favorite show ever bee tee dubs) where charlotte goes out with two guys at the same time and she has sex with one but not the other until one of them catches her with the other guy and they all break it off.

my vision is a little different cause instead of getting mad and leaving when logan finds out reader fucked wade and not him, he figures it's his turn to get even. aka wade in the cuck chair and loving it.

The three of you pass a BMW sitting in a no parking zone, all four windows rolled down as Madonna blasts through the speakers. "So," Wade says, voice breaking the silence for the first time in five minutes. "Who white-washed your guts better?" You nearly trip over your own feet, whipping your head to gape at Wade. "Fucking excuse me?" "You know," Wade shrugs, like it's a perfectly normal thing to ask. The leisurely pace of his stroll not slowing, his hands still stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. "Who carved the lyrical railway better?" He just keeps going as you stare at him with a repulsed look on your face. "The number one stud that's stuffin' your muffin? That's takin the ol' bald-headed gnome for a satisfying stroll in the misty forest. Pick one hot stuff, they all mean the same thing." Before you can even answer there's a rough, questioning grunt from your right and your stomach flips. Oh. Logan, he was still here too. Still here and right next to you, listening. Oh yeah. "You fucked?" You still haven't slept with Logan yet. You turn to him face slowly, eyes a hair wide as you take in the sharp raise of his brow. "Um..." "Whoops," Wade snorts from somewhere behind your shoulder. "Cat's out the bag."

wip #3 • it's the easiest thing (just love me and eat me) feat. logan howlett

it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…

the same requested sub!logan fic from last wednesday just with a new name and weirder energy! like this has really gotten away from me and turned into something that i can't really explain well enough to make it sound like chill...

lots of religious imagery and symbolism...and some metaphors of cannibalism...idk i'm just a girl with religious trauma and a weird blood fetish sue me.

You've come to think that being in bed with Logan is like being in church. The familiar weight of his body pressing you into the mattress is the alter. The heat of it like laying in the burning flame of a candle. The strong planes of his muscles each a different scripture that you take in by touch alone, skating your hands over his skin with something close to worship. Each bead of sweat on his skin feels sacred, a testament to the intensity between you, as though every part of him has been crafted for this moment of devotion. The hard length of his cock carves a place for itself inside you, each heavy smack of his hips punching another desperate sound out of your slack lips. His breath, deep and ragged, is a chant that pulls you into reverence. It puffs against the wild beat of your pulse, his lips brushing over the fever hot plane of your skin. The sound of your name pulled from his mouth sounds like a prayer answered. You can’t help but close your eyes, not in exhaustion, but in a kind of spiritual surrender, like by shutting out the world, you can truly grasp the divinity of it. There's a holiness to the way he holds you—like you’re the only thing worth believing in.

kisses!

no pressure tags! @ebodebo @artemis-b-writes @avocado-writing @superhoeva