#and the whole day they’re just scrambling to keep it all under wraps

[arbitrarykiwi]

Track 5: Into the Sun

Nam-Gyu (player 124) x Fem!Reader x Thanos / Choi Subong (player 230)

── .✦ Part of Kiwi's 1k Album Event

Warnings: 18+ , skinny dipping , weed smoking , suggestive themes , pretty much just cute thangyu x reader moments , relatively sfw

“It’s sooooo hotttt…”

“Complaining about it isn’t gonna make it better” even in the middle of the night, sun long gone it was so muggy out the three of you absolutely couldn’t sleep

You kick your head over to where Nam-Gyu and Thanos were sat on the windowsill of your room, trying all they can to get some cool air.

“Ooooo the heat makes you feisty Nam-Suu~” Thanos drawls on leaning forward closer to Nam-Gyu, teasing grin spreading across his lips.

Nam-Gyu is turning away from the open window and to Thanos, giving him a warning glare, “Watch it.”

“Ugh guyyyysss!!” You whine from the bed, breaking up any further argument. Peeling your sweaty body up off the comforter, you’re flipping over on your stomach and situating yourself on the edge of your bed closest to the windowsill they were sat in.

“This is miserable, I can’t take it.” You pout turning your head towards one of the man fans blowing in the room.

Nam-Gyu laughs, “Now look what you did,” he’s turning towards Thanos and poking his bare chest, “got the princess complaining”. Turning back towards you he’s tilting his head, “what else do you suppose we do, sweetheart? I mean, we got, collectively, 6 fans in here.” He says sarcastically.

“Which are alllll pointed at you by the way.”

You pout, “Bein sarcastic, Such an asshole.” It’s said with no real mirth behind it but still surprising you said it nonetheless.

The two males in the window let out gasps that are of fake offense. Thanos is even throwing a hand over his chest and clutching at fake pearls around his neck. Nam-Gyu turns back to his purple haired counterpart and they’re exchanging a knowing glance.

“The heat’s got you too bratty”

“Needa fix our baby’s attitude, huh?”

“I don’t have an attitude~” you say in a sing-song tone, “I’m just dying over here!! You two are blocking the window! You two are probably cooled off.”

Nam-Gyu scoffs and turns back towards Thanos, “you hear her right now?”

“Sayin we’re cooled off?! She must have been fucked too dumb the other night.” You can even hear how Thanos tries to hold back his own laugh both of them concocting a silent idea.

“Maybe we should show her how good she has it. Lil Princess is much better off than us with all the fans pointed right at her.”

Exchanging a mirrored nod, your two boy are getting off the windowsill and advancing towards you. You don’t have time to move, they’re piling on you and wrapping themselves around you.

Your eyes are widening and you’re immediately trying to scramble off the bed. It’s of no use, the two men are encompassing you and wrapping their arms around you.

“Oh my god!! Get off!!” You’re crying between laughs, “Nooo!!” The more they close in the more you can feel the heat of the day and their body’s nearly swallowing you whole.

“Seee~~ now you know how hot we are!!” Thanos laughs, it’s such a dumb argument but both of them just love to tease you. He’s rocking as you giggle and try to fight against the both of them. “No need to catch an attitude~”

“Nooo!! It’s too hot for this!!!” You cry out feebly, laughing and thrashing against the two men. You can already feel how you’re sweating more when you’re pressed against their warm bodies.

Nam-Gyu chuckles in your ear, nibbling along the back of your shoulder. His arms are around your torso, keeping you stationary by your waist, “yeahhhh see!! Ya’ didn’t have it so bad~”

“You’re both so gross and sweaty!!!” You whine pounding your fists on Thanos’ chest, hips wigging back against Nam-Gyu.

“And you’re not?! Sweetheart you literally have a line of sweat under your tits- not that ‘m complainin’ but…you’re not so well of y’self.” Thanos laughs, capturing your lips in multiple quick kisses that cut off all your pleas and laughter.

“Mmm come on, like you don’t get this sweaty when we stuff you full of our dicks.” Nam-Gyu teases from behind you, teeth sinking into your flesh once more.

“That’s not the same!!! It’s hotttt and you two on me is not helpingggg!!” You’re reverting back to your regular complaint, trying to still fight against their hold. It’s said through fits of giggles as they wiggle around the bed keeping you trapped.

“What would help, hm?” Nam-Gyu says, teeth nipping at your ear. “Every store is closed we can’t go get you another fan, sweetheart.”

You think for a moment, “you two getting off.”

“Hmmm…nah, gotta choose something else!” Thanos chirps, placing another kiss on your lips.

You’re thinking it over again, with every store closed for the night, Nam-Gyu’s right, you won’t be able to get another fan or water. Like a lightbulb has gone off your smile is widening, “Oh! I know! Let’s go skinny dipping!”

The two of them live to please you…so with just that sentence, you ended up packed into Nam-Gyu’s car at 3am with a bag full of joints, snacks, and towels.

Nam-Gyu barely puts the car into park before him and Thanos are barreling out of the car in a fit of excited giggles and booking it down the gravel hill to the beach.

“I’m gonna win!!”

“No the fuck you won’t! Conniving bitch you got a head start I had to part the car!”

It’s endearing, seeing the two of them bring out each other’s childishness. Both of them having gone through so much on their own yet able to still have some joyous whimsy with each other and around you- you cherished that.

“You guys both suck! Leaving me with the bags!” You say through giggles, no mirth behind it as you sling the couple bags over your shoulder. Smile on your face you’re watching both of them stumble down the hill and onto the beach.

By the time you make it down to the sandy area, the two of them are already stripping off their clothes.

When Thanos pulls his shirt off over his head and is greeted with Nam-Gyu in front of him beginning to pull off his boxers- jeans already being kicked off Nam-Gyu’s ankles- he’s letting out a low whistle.

“We’re all fucking freak nasty style after this.”

Nam-Gyu is pausing, boxers half pulled down and scrunching his eyebrows, “why the fuck would you say it like that?”

“Oh come onnn!!! God forbid a man loves his boyfriend or whatever.”

Nam-Gyu’s scowl turns into a wide grin. He’s rolling his eyes and following Thanos is getting rid of his pants. Completely naked, the two of them are diving into the water in a cacophony of laughter and yells.

You take your time, enjoying the air and the sounds of their laughter, you’re setting out the large beach towel and pinning it to the sand with your bags.

Slowly you strip out of your (Nam-gyu’s) shirt, tossing the article of clothing safely in the large bag you had to keep it free of sand (unlike those dumbasses).

Bending down, you’re fishing out the joint and lighter that Thanos had packed. Placing the filter between your lips you’re turning towards the splashing of your boyfriends. and making your way down to the water.

You pick up their clothes as you go, tossing the pieces of clothes back onto the beach towel (you’ll get the sand out of them later enevitably when they beg you to). Eventually you’re pulling off your shorts and tossing them over into the pile you’ve created.

The air is chilly, the water that starts to rush over your toes is making a violent shiver run up your spine. Cupping your hand around the joint, you’re batting the wind to try to light it. Drawing in a deep breath, you feel the joint catch and your lungs begin to fill with the acrid smoke.

Now wading in the water, Thanos and Nam-Gyu are swimming happily, taking turns splashing each other. They’re far enough out where they can barely touch the bottom, cold water surrounding them in the best way. They’re cackling and chasing each other, stress of the week no longer hounding them.

Blocking another one of Thanos’s waves that was being splashed towards him, Nam-Gyu’s head turns back to the shore where you now stood naked, sucking another hit out from the blunt and staring up at the sky.

You look like a mythological being- the moonlight reflecting off the waves and making the shadows dance across your bare body. Even after seeing you naked 1000s of times, you’re still making Nam-Gyu lose his breath like it was the first time you took your shirt off. He can see the way your nipples begin to harden against the cool breeze…fuck, maybe Thanos was right…

“Okay yeah we’re fucking freak nasty style..”

You turn your head down from the night sky and look at Nam-Gyu who’s wadding up through the water, cat like grin on his face. Quirking up an eyebrow you scoff, “oh so now you’re down??? But when Subong mentioned it…” you call with a wide smile, sitting down right where the water begins collides with the sand.

“Yeah!! So when I mention it, you give me some fuck ass look!!? The fucks that about!?” Thanos yells, jumping up a bit and leaping onto Nam-Gyu’s back. Nam-Gyu is letting out a surprised scream and falling under the water. Resurfacing, Nam-Gyu is sputtering and grumbling curses. But it’s not long before his scowl turns into a smile when Thanos is hung around his neck.

“You hurt my feelings, ‘Gyu~” The purple hair male is pouting, nuzzling his face into Nam-Gyu’s neck. He’s acting like he’s annoyed, but he makes no effort to throw Subon off him.

“Okay and?? Now I’m down f’it.” He responds, nudging Thanos, “you gonna look at her and not wanna fuck freak nasty style?”

You’re cringing, it’s so weird hearing Thanos’s vocabulary come from Nam-Gyu but it’s so oddly endearing.

Thanos pulls his face out of Nam-Gyu’s neck, a new red-purple patch begging to bloom on the crook of Nam-Gyu’s neck, eyes falling on you Thanos is letting out a low whistle, “Okay, well, yeah…duh.” He tries to tear his eyes away from you- your tits, the curve of your hips, your lips wrapped around the blunt- god, you looked so good.

“But you still gave me a weird look!” Subong pouts, sliding off Nam-Gyu and mirroring his position. You’re sitting down to be closer to their level, sucking another hit off the joint.

“I literally sucked you off and was wrecking your insides a couple days ago, I can promise you I am always down to ‘fuck freak nasty style’ it’s just weird when you say it like that!” Nam-Gyu barks out between laughs, swatting his hand in the water and splashing Thanos.

Thanos groans and splashes Nam-Gyu back in retaliation- you’re caught in the crossfire of ice cold droplets of water. Lifting your arm up to protect the joint from the water.

“Aye!!! Chill!! Watch the joint.” You giggle, only lowering it once they settle. “Here.” You pass it over to Subong who’s staring between you and Nam-Gyu like you two hung the moon.

“Mmmmm, thank you beautiful.” He says in a low rasp, taking the joint from you. You turn to Nam-Gyu, reaching out and brushing strands of wet hair out of his face, “never seen you so whimsical.” You tease.

“‘M having fun with you two.” Nam-Gyu says with a pout, face scrunching up in annoyance yet he’s leaning into your hand like a cat searing for pets, “can I not be whimsical with my girlfriend and boyfriend or something?” He’s raising a teasing eyebrow and taking the joint that’s being passed to him from Thanos.

For maybe 45 minutes as the joint burns, you three sit in each other’s company and just talk. About work, about life, about dumb shit any of you have seen online- anything and everything you guys are talking about.

The conversation flows as smooth as the joint you smoke, bouncing off each other and laughing along with stories that branched off of six stories before.

Both of them have rolled over, pushed themselves up higher on the shore and rested their heads on your thighs, staring up at the stars as they tried to get to you point out various constellations you could barely tell apart.

When the joints finished, the conversation doesn’t die out it continues. It’s only when you have to move your legs to keep them from falling asleep, jolting Thanos and Nam-Gyu a bit do they decide it’s time for the water fun to commence once more.

“You better get in now!” Thanos calls as he stands up, he’s scooping Nam-gyu up in his arms and wading into the water. Once deep enough Thanos is jumping and twisting his body, slamming Nam-Gyu into the water who comes back up in a fit of laughter, splashing water on Thanos in retaliation.

Getting up to toss the finished joint into the trash can, you’re jogging back and beginning to finally get into the water. It’s so cold, making your body freeze up and your nipples pebble into nearly painful peaks.

You look out fondly at Thanos and Nam-Gyu who are laughing at each other as they begin to fall back into their antics from before the joint. You only have gotten as deep as your knees, the water obviously doing its job to help you from the heat wave but fuck!!! It’s like ice!!

You’re taking too long though- Nam-Gyu and Thanos soon realize your absence in the deeper waters and decide the have to do something about it. Step after slow step you’re walking deeper into the water, letting out a yelp when the cold waves make it over your waist.

Cold water sprays the top of your body, the half nowhere near the water yet. Of course, when you open your eyes back up you see Nam-Gyu chuckling wickedly a few feet from you.

“You dick!!” You screech, putting your hands up to block to face from the water. You’re getting him back instantly, splashing a large wave of water into his face. Nam-Gyu is chuckling, making his way closer to you in the water with a devious grin on his face, most certainly about to fuck with you in some capacity again.

“C’mon!!! You’re the one who wanted to come ‘n do this shit! Get in!!” Nam-Gyu calls out, hand raised up like he’s getting ready to slap the water again.

“It’s cold!!!”

“Weren’t you the one complaining about the heat?? It’s because you’re half outside! Get in the water. Wind makes it worse, dummy.” He’s teasing back. You can see his arm move ever so slightly. Not wanting to feel the wrath of the cold water splash over your chest again, you’re retaliating.

Swinging your arm through the water you’re sending another massive wave that splashes across Nam-Gyu’s face. This time it’s larger, spreading across a wider area that ends up getting Thanos caught in the crossfire.

“Awhhh!!!” Your purple haired boyfriend is groaning, “I just dyed itttt.” Words accompanied with a pout he’s crossing his arms and glaring at you and Nam-Gyu.

“I spent so long doing ittt.” It’s drawn out again, a light whine to it now.

“Ohhhh ‘m sorry Subong~” You coo, reaching out your arms and wading further into water. Braving the cold, you’re sinking deeper into the lake and floating over to Thanos, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Still able to touch the rocky bottom of the lake, the waters up to your navel, it’s biting at your skin and sending shivers up your spine- but you’re still not as deep as they were minutes before.

“Are you? I think you did it on purpose.” Almost like an upset toddler, he’s turning his head away from you and keeping his arms crossed.

When you’re laughing- Thanos little tantrum more than entertaining to you- you’re closing your eyes for a split second, you miss the knowing glance your two boyfriends share.

“I didn’t I swear! Nam-Gyu was just bein’ mean an’ I meant to splash him.” You say between giggles, reaching up to brush the wet strands of purple hair out of his face.

“I was nottt!! You’re being a baby.” Nam-Gyu is calling out with a fake offended scoff, you can hear the teasing grin in his voice.

And You can hear him begin to swim closer to you but think nothing of it.

“And you gotta stop using this semi-permanent shit if you’re gonna keep dying your hair. Get the permanent.” You say wiping away purple droplets that fall down his forehead, “ya gonna be stained purple before tonight’s over.”

“You’re not even swimming with us…” Thanos is pouting again, completely disregarding what you said.

“Yes I am! I’m literally in the water!!”

“Yeah but we had to come back closer to shore to be near you- you’re not swimming.”

A painted finger nail is poking right above your navel, “haven’t even gotten fully wet yet.”

“It’s cold!!! I gotta get used to it first-ohmygod!!!” Your explanation is cut off into a shrill screech when Nam-Gyu is coming behind you and wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you to him.

“Only way to get used to it is to actually get in the water!” Nam-Gyu says through chuckles, beginning to wade deeper into the water with you forced to come with.

“Nooo!!! You asshole!!” You yell through giggles and the cold that the water begins to bring, it’s right up under your chest now, “it’s so fucking cold!!!!” You screech. “I don’t know h-how the fuck you two were sw-swimming in this!!”

You’re tucking your knees to your chest and your teeth begin to chatter. Your nails bite into the flesh on Nam-Gyu’s forearms like you’re afraid he’d drop you in the depths of the icy waters.

“Easy, baby…” Thanos coos, following you two deeper, “‘Gyu’s gotcha.”

“That’s my issue!!” You laugh through chattering canines, “he’s a sneaky bitch who will drop me!!!”

You can feel Nam-Gyu’s chuckle reverberate against your back, “I promise I won’t be a dick ‘n drop you…this time.” He gives you a tighter squeeze, voice dropping to a wicked teasing lilt. “Just want you to be out here with us..” he says, voice gentler as he places a gentle kiss at the back of your shoulder.

“We’ll help keep ya warm!” Thanos says, moving right in front of you and wrapping his arms around you and Nam-Gyu, squeezing you between them. “Plus! Look! You have the perfect view of the sunrise here.”

Following where his painted finger points to, the trees that surrounded the areas east of you, dipped low and almost framed the horizon and the sun that began to break over the hills.

As your mouth drops open, seeing the view that slowly begins to unfold in front of you, Nam-Gyu presses a slow kiss to your jaw, “You know we love you right?”

Thanos is swimming behind you too, one arm around your waist, the other around Nam-Gyu’s shoulders, his lips press against the back of your shoulder, “Don’t know what we’d do without you…we’d never think to go skinny dipping at three am.” He laughs against your skin.

“Mhm…” you say, smile so wide your cheeks are hurting. The coldness of the water no longer bothering you. “And I don’t know what I’d do without you two…I love youuu…” you’re turning and placing a kiss on Nam-Gyu’s cheek, “an’ I love youuu.” You say, turning to place one on Thanos’s cheek.

They’re both smiling under your lips, squeezing you back against them harder.

“This was like…meant to be y’know…like all three of us…here…” Thanos beings to drawl on.

“Okay, Socrates let’s calm down now…” Nam-Gyu says rolling his eyes as Thanos begins to ramble about the earth and fate, “But all his nonsense aside. I second the gist of what he said.”

Thanos scoffs and tries to swat Nam-Gyu’s ass under the water- but water tension doesn’t get him far, “you act like you didn’t go on a 3 hour rant on how you love to steal her panties out of the-“

“Aaahhhhh, enough of that!!” Nam-Gyu begins to speak louder than Thanos, face flushing 60 shades of pink. You try to turn around to face him, giggles falling from your lips but he holds you straight forward.

“No! No! What did he mean!!! I wanna know!!” You say though wheezing, as Nam-Gyu keeps talking over Thanos and keeping you faced forwards.

“I don’t know what he means”

“Uhhh yes the fuck you do!” Thanos scoffs, acting like he was offended Nam-Gyu would even lie about a conversation they had not even a week ago (he’s far from offended..he really just loved seeing Nam-Gyu’s face go so red)

“You have to tell me!!” You say trying to turn around to face him, but he’s keeping you pinned forward. “You mean to tell me he steals my panties from the wash-“

Thanos is cutting you off excitedly “o-oohhh yeah.” He says nodding, “and he sometimes sleeps in your big tshirts because the smell like you-“

“Nam-Gyuuuu!” You’re squealing, “You are soft!!! So tell me you really do that, huh?”

“Discussion for another time. We’re just enjoying right now…right here right now- nothing else- we’re enjoying it.” Nam-Gyu says sternly trying to get both of you to quit but it’s impossible.

Looking to both of you and seeing the evil glint in Thanos’ eyes, he knows he’s far from out of the hot seat.

“Okay well Tinky Winky over here-“

“You did not just refer to me as a fucking tellie tubbie dude. Couldn’t even give me Barney or somethin’?!” Thanos pouts a more than childish whine laced in his voice, as if the name was the worst thing he’s been called.

“Makes me wear your lip gloss sometimes when you’re gone so he can taste it because he misses how you taste when he kisses you.”

“So you also wear my lipgloss and help him when he misses me…..” you drawl on, finally managing to turn to face the both of them, “so you’re soft, baby. Just admit it. You love us so much you get alll soft and mushy when it comes to us~~” you coo in a sing-song voice.

Cheeks red, Nam-Gyu darts- beginning to swim away from the two of you.

And when you two ultimately chase him down, making him brave the chilly waves the two of you push his way, Nam-Gyu is cursing back- trying his best to move faster.

He truly doesn’t mind the teasing though, not when his ears are filled with the sound of your and Thanos’s laughter. That’s a sound that he could never get over. And when the suns rays begin to break through the horizon and cascade off the water- all three of you are sure this is where you’re exactly meant to be.

Taglist: @namsgyu @nuttybeans @namgyucat @g1rlonthe3internet @reilapse @yuuumeee @thanosspills @thequeenbmulan @infinetlyforgotten @gothinlove @seaweef @lov3lycosmos @lunaryoongie @thecryingangei @dennsfz @pugh-bug @ykmeoryoudont @mari-18s-world @corrdelia @skinstickets @chosangwooswife

[righteous-r0de0]

perhaps a silly question but are angel and baabe’s unempowered familes invited to the wedding? that’s gotta be a huge covert breach

but imagine the silly hijinks that would ensue

“hey why’s the best man (gender neutral)’s boyfriend sitting under an umbrella? it’s supposed to be clear skies all day”

“oh um he’s just super goth”

“he’s wearing a cowboy hat”

“he’s…y’allternative”

“wtf angel”

[fandomhcs]

dating frank castle would include:

frank castle doesn’t do anything half assed. that includes a relationship. you may have a hell of a time actually getting him into one, but once he is he’ll never waver.

he would struggle between being the punisher and being frank, the man who loves you. though he fully understands that you can that care of yourself, he wants to keep his life as the punisher far away from you. of course its not always possible, but he wants to keep you as safe he can. rest assured, as long as he’s there nothing can touch you. he’d stop anything, give up anything, to keep you safe. 

losing maria and the kids changed him, broke him apart and forced him to scramble to gather any pieces he could. losing you now, after facing all of that loss and all that pain? no way he could handle that. 

and so he’s overprotective, he’s paranoid, he’ll check and double check the locks on your windows and doors until you drag him to bed. while the two of you don’t leave the house together too often, when you do he makes sure to keep you no more than an arm’s length away at all times.

his paranoia is the biggest source of fights in your relationship. he isn’t one for conflict, despite being the punsiher and all. fighting with you is different, and he doesn’t like it when it happens. often times you’ll have it out with each other only for him to go quiet, swallow his pride and take some time to calm down before he can come talk out the problem with you.

but outside of the danger, when things are quiet and peaceful between the two of you there is no sweeter man than frank castle. he’s head over heels for you, it’s easy to see. in his eyes you are everything he never thought he’d have again. sure, he may not have the whole wife, kids, white fence type of life with you. he may never be ready for that, but being with you feels like coming home. it scares him how good it feels to have a place, a person, he can call home again.

movies nights and television marathons are a must. the second you are both home for the night he’ll wrap you up in his arms and drag you to the couch for cuddles. though he isn’t too big on pda, in the privacy of your home he just can’t help himself. 

he lives for the small touches. holding your hand, forehead kisses, fingers grazing your shoulders as he passes by you. its a reminder, every time he feels your skin under his fingertips. a reminder that you are there, with him, safe and sound and alive.

you make him smile. force him to watch stupid comedies or over dramatic soap operas that you both get waaayy too invested in. he makes you try your coffee black, does the dishes for you before you get up in the mornings, keeps you trapped in his arms whenever you try to get up for food. 

he cooks for you sometimes. a lovely surprise that comes out of nowhere. the big bad punisher? popping out with restaurant quality meals all because you’d had a shitty day at work and needed a pick-me-up? that’s art. he doesn’t cook often, but when he does it is magical.

though as far as your cooking, he’ll eat literally anything. you could burn it to coal and he’ll eat it with a smile. he might make fun of you for it, but you’ll see him finish his plate no matter what. he’s a dork like that.

you both whisper your secrets underneath warm sheets with one of his hands tapping a chaotic rhythm on your shoulder and the other gripping your fingers tight. he tells you their names. maria. lisa. frank jr. he tells you of their laughter, their toys, their lives. and he tells you of their deaths, tears spilling from his eyes as he breaks into your arms. your heart breaks with him, but being able to share them with someone who loves him, and by extension loves and respects them too, is such a weight off his shoulders.

they’re ghosts, but not the kind that haunt. the kind that leave your chest aching but also a soft smile on your face. they don’t plague him anymore, he is finally able to think of them without his world going dark. they’ll always be in his heart, he’ll never allow himself to forget them, but you help him realize that he can have happiness once again. 

life is perfectly boring with frank, something he forgot just how much he’d missed. you bring peace into his life, even though he never wanted you to. but he’ll be forever grateful that you did. this man will love you with a passion and an intensity that you’ll find nowhere else.

that is, if you can handle his snoring.

[toporecall]

clare.b_x9 - Chapter 1

Who doesn't love an OnlyFans AU? Just in time for your lunch break. I'm almost finished writing this one so more to come very soon! (Possibly tomorrow?) Enjoy xoxo

Read on AO3 or under the cut

Summary: Feyre starts an OnlyFans account under a fake name as a way to make extra money while pursuing a career as an artist. She does her best to hide it from her best friend, Rhys, but that can only work for so long before he realizes something's up. Feyre's doing fine until an unexpected financial burden hits and she has to figure out how to come up with extra money in just a couple weeks.

Feyre is wearing pink lingerie when she hears the front door to her shared apartment open. Weird, she thinks, Mor isn’t supposed to be home for hours.

She’s also holding a pink glittery dildo that she was just about to wrap her glossed lips around when she hears the front door close, a few heavy footsteps, and then a male voice call out to her.

“Hello! Feyre! I’ve had a long ass day and I am very ready for a fucking drink.”

Feyre freezes like a deer in the headlights before glancing at the clock on her open laptop. 6:32 pm. A full hour before she expected Rhys to arrive for their drinks together.

“Fuck, umm, shit,” she mutters under her breath, scrambling around in a decidedly disorganized way for several moments before throwing the dildo under her bed. “Just a sec!”

She scrambles back over to her laptop and tries to recover her bearings.

“Sorry, boys, gonna have to cut this one off early. Something came up. I’ll be back on at my regular time Thursday and maybe I’ll post a little bonus for you all tomorrow to make up for it.” She tries to use her sweetest voice and blows a kiss at the camera, ending the stream and closing her laptop.

Feyre started her OnlyFans account earlier that year at the suggestion of a friend. Well, the suggestion was really a joke but it planted the seed in Feyre’s mind.

She’d been complaining about the difficulties of making ends meet as a painter. “It’s such a catch-22. To make it as an artist, I need to live in the city where artists live, where the scene is. But I can’t afford to live here as an artist because I haven’t made it yet. I don’t know what to do. I keep getting these restaurant jobs and bartending gigs but they don’t pay that much and they’re so exhausting that I can barely get myself to paint.”

“Maybe you should be a cam girl,” her friend said with a sly smile over their shared glasses of wine.

Feyre snorted a laugh. “Yeah, right.”

“Hey, you’re hot, you’ve got that whole,” she waved her hand in Feyre’s general direction, “corruptible innocence thing going on with those big eyes. I think people could be in to it.”

Feyre blushed. “Right, yeah. Come and help me, big strong man, I can’t possibly screw in this lightbulb on my own,” she said in a high girlish voice, pouting her lips.

But Feyre couldn’t quite shake the idea after that conversation. What were the downsides? It seemed at least worth a try. So she set up a profile under a fake name (clare.b_x9) and dove right in. It took her a while to get the flow right, figure out what worked for her and what didn’t. She started out painting in cute little outfits or lingerie and gradually realized that wasn’t great for people to watch. After a while she figured out her best shtick was playing up her girly side with lots of pink clothes, pink sex toys, heavy lipgloss. Her most loyal followers liked her cute and bubbly and acting all innocent while she made herself come for them on camera.

She didn’t make quite enough money to quit the bartending and catering gigs entirely, but it certainly helped ease a lot of the pressures she’d been feeling and take enough breaks that she felt rested enough to paint.

Mor was the only person who knew about her new gig. It was, after all, difficult to hide that sort of thing from your own roommate. And Mor was surprisingly supportive of the whole thing. She’d tease her now and then but ultimately she was down for Feyre to do whatever was best for her. They coordinated their schedules so Feyre could do her live shows twice a week while Mor was out at yoga classes and didn’t need to be in the apartment overhearing Feyre’s performance.

That did leave everyone else unaware of Feyre’s online presence, including Rhys. It had definitely been difficult keeping a secret from him, especially one this big. And it wasn’t that she was ashamed of being a cam girl, she actually enjoyed it in a lot of ways, but she was worried about how it could alter people’s perception of her. So she kept it between herself and Mor, including keeping it from her best friend, Rhys.

At least, she’d managed to keep it from him so far. Now he’s in her apartment and she’s dolled up, wearing lingerie, and trying to figure out how to buy herself a few minutes.

Feyre hears the fridge door shut and glass clinking, the sounds of Rhys helping himself to beer. She also hears that he’s walking toward her room, talking about his long day at work. Feyre shoves her laptop, camera, and ring light under the bed next to the dildo, double checks any other sex toys are hidden, and dashes across her bedroom to pull on jeans and a sweatshirt as fast as she can to cover up the baby pink bodysuit whose straps are crisscrossing over her torso.

“So anyway, he tells me that this is clearly my problem and if I don’t…how did he phrase it…if I don’t ‘get my shit together and figure it out’ it’s gonna be my name that’s on the documents.” Rhys’s footsteps stop in front of her bedroom door just as she gets her hoodie on over her head. “Can I come in?”

“Uh, yeah, just a second,” she calls back, doing one last check around her room for any illicit objects. On her way to open the bedroom door she glances at herself in the mirror. Her hair is curled, cheeks flushed, and she’s wearing way more makeup than she normally would to just get a drink with Rhys but maybe he won’t notice.

She finally pulls open the bedroom door and tries to school her facial expression into something neutral. “You’re an hour early,” she says, accepting the beer (from her own fridge) that Rhys offers her. He takes a sip of the one he grabbed for himself.

“We said 6:30, didn’t we?” He steps past her into her room and flings himself onto her bed, taking another long sip of his beer. Feyre resists the urge to shoo him out of her room. Act normal, act normal, act normal. Normally this would be fine.

“We definitely said 7:30.”

“Oh, well, sorry.” He doesn’t seem sorry. “Were you talking to someone?”

Feyre curses herself internally as she feels her cheeks heat.

“What?”

“Just now, when I got here I thought I heard you talking to someone.”

“Nope, no one. Just, uh, hanging out.” Jesus, Feyre. Get it together. “Anyway, it’s fine, you’re here now. Should we go out?”

“We could finish these first?” Rhys is stretched out across her bed, looking sinfully good in a black t-shirt and dark jeans that probably cost more than Feyre makes in 2 weeks of work. It makes her squirm to think about what she was just doing in the exact spot he’s now laying. Like somehow if he lays there long enough he’ll be able to tell.

“No, let’s go out. I’m really not in the mood for beer,” she lies through her teeth, finally getting something she says to sound convincing.

“Ok, fine with me.” Rhys shrugs and swings his legs off the bed. “You look pretty by the way. Is your makeup different than usual?”

Of course he notices. “Mhmm, yeah, thanks.”

Feyre relaxes more once they’re out of her apartment. The only thing that comes up again is the fact that she’s wearing a sweatshirt on a beautiful day in May but Feyre just makes some flimsy excuse about being cold all day for no particular reason. Truth be told, she was actually melting in the thick hoodie that’d been closest to her bed but, given the fact that the only thing under it is her sheer pink lingerie, she’s stuck in the sweatshirt.

As Rhys and Feyre take their seats at their favorite bar just a few blocks from her apartment, she thinks for probably the hundredth time since she started that maybe she should just tell Rhys the truth about what she’s been doing. She knows it’d be easier to not have to hide it from him and that he would never judge her for it. She knows and yet…

She always comes back to the same embarrassing conclusion. Feyre is deeply, tragically aware of how cliché it is to be in love with your best friend and yet here she is. He would never judge but he also might never look at her in exactly the same way again—with that easy crooked smile and casual touch on her waist.

Rhys and Feyre met in college in one of their somewhat bullshit gen ed classes. To this day, they can never agree on which class it was—Feyre swears it was Second Year Writing while Rhys insists it was Statistics. But, either way, they were fast friends. And it was easy, then, to keep things solidly friendly—Feyre had a boyfriend during most of college, Rhys had a girlfriend after that. By the time they were both single they’d been friends for nearly 5 years and it seemed too scary and improbable to change that, no matter what her feelings were.

It was actually kind of incredible they’d stuck out their friendship for so long with such different paths. After graduation Rhys went straight into law school and was now a lawyer. What he did with his time every day Feyre still struggles to understand but she genuinely loves listening to him talk about his job because it is so wildly different from her own life. Feyre had bounced around a handful of different jobs and gigs since graduating and even took time to travel, all in service of her goal of becoming a “professional artist,” though if you were to ask her exactly what makes someone qualify as a professional she’d struggle to answer. Someone who pays the bills with it, she’d suppose.

So here they sit, as they often do—drinking half-price cocktails in a bar most closely resembling somewhere Edgar Allen Poe would hang out. They love this spot for all the reasons other people avoided it—dark wood paneling, quiet booths, always feeling like winter even in the middle of May.

“Ok, I’ve prattled on enough about my work drama,” Rhys says once they’ve gotten their second drinks, “what’s been up with you?”

“Oh, you know, just the usual. A couple catering gigs, working on a new painting, had to replace something in my car I can’t pronounce the name of but costs more than my rent.” That was going to be an even bigger issue now that she’d cut her stream short tonight. The car repair was $700, plus rent was due in 2 weeks adding another $650 for her share. She had genuinely no idea where she was going to come up with $1,350 in the next couple weeks with only two catering gigs on the books.

As usual, sense seemed to be able to sense exactly what she’s thinking. “You know if you ever need help, Feyre—”

Feyre holds up her hand, cutting him off. “Stop. We’ve talked about this. I really appreciate it but you know I can’t take your money.”

“I’m just saying, if you need someone to loan you some in the meantime…”

“There is no meantime. I’m fine, really.”

“Okay, I hear you, I hear you.”

“Well, sounds like you’ve had a shitty day and I’m stressed about money so I say that calls for shots.” Feyre gets up before Rhys has a chance to argue and goes to the bar to order tequila shots.

A couple of shots and several drinks later, Rhys and Feyre are stumbling arm in arm back to her apartment. They climb the stairs to her third floor apartment, half-falling through the door once she gets it unlocked, laughing hysterically while recounting a story from college.

“I still can’t believe you did that,” Feyre snorts, grabbing them a couple of beers from the fridge while Rhys collapses onto the couch.

“I was 21! It seemed like a great idea at the time.” Rhys takes one of the beers from Feyre and she plops onto the other half of the couch, back against the armrest facing Rhys. He pulls her feet into his lap and Feyre does her best to ignore the tiny thrill that shoots up her spine.

“Yeah, clearly! Shockingly getting plastered right before your Public Speaking final was not the best way to conquer your nerves.”

Rhys shrugs, still laughing, and takes a swig of his beer. “Oh well, it all worked out.” He sighs and the atmosphere in the room shifts in a way that has Feyre on edge almost instantly. “You know, Feyre, if there’s ever anything you want to talk about, I’m here.”

She takes a nervous sip of her drink. “I know that.”

“You can tell me anything.” He looks her straight in the eye and she has to force herself not to look away from his intense eye contact.

“I know I can, Rhys.” It comes out in almost a whisper, just loud enough for him to hear it from across the couch.

“It’s just…sometimes I get this feeling like there’s something you’re keeping from me.”

Feyre doesn’t know how to respond. She’s drunk enough that she’s slow on thinking up a reply, just opens her mouth and waits for words to come. Maybe she should just tell him. Maybe—

Just then, the apartment door opens and Mor comes in wearing a fitted red dress, pulling a gorgeous brunette in behind her.

Feyre and Rhys both turn around to look and Mor stops in her tracks, the brunette stopping short just beside her.

“Oh, hi guys! I thought you might still be out. We’re just gonna…” Mor nods her head toward her bedroom and pulls the girl along behind her.

“Nice to meet you!” Feyre calls, giggling.

“You too!” The girl calls back before the door shuts behind them.

“We should probably relocate to my room before that becomes audible,” Feyre says to Rhys.

“Yeah, great point.”

Feyre had bought herself a shitty projector for just these occasions. The walls in this apartment were distressingly thin, so whenever Mor had company, she’d head off to her own room and put on a movie, projecting it onto the white wall across from her bed. The art on that part of the wall hangs on hooks so it’s easy to pull it down and put it back up.

She thinks that Rhys is mercifully drunk enough that Mor’s interruption made him forget that she never really answered his question. They make their way to her bedroom, drinks in hand. He knows the drill by now and starts setting up the projector while Feyre excuses herself to run to the bathroom and change into comfy athletic shorts and a t-shirt, finally taking off her lingerie.

It’s too easy to lay in her tiny bed with him, overhead lights off, the room lit only by a small pink lamp and some string lights wrapped around her headboard. He puts on a movie, some stupid comedy, connecting to the projector via bluetooth, and she’s tipsy enough that she rests her head on his shoulder.

“My arm is dead asleep,” he says 20 or so minutes later. “Can I just—” and he wraps his arm around her, pulling her head back down to rest on his shoulder. It’s too easy to sink into his hold, to find the perfect spot to rest her head on him and lean into his body. They finish watching the movie like this, his fingers idly tracing shapes on her arm in a way that makes goosebumps break out across her skin.

She desperately wants to touch him. In her buzzed haze, she’s almost worried she’ll do it without noticing. She wants it that badly. But she keeps her hands to herself, reminding herself to enjoy this as it is. Friendship. Togetherness. Platonic touch.

The movie ends and it’s nearing 1 in the morning. Rhys turns toward her, legs still outstretched in her bed, still pressed to hers side by side.

“Mind if I crash here? I don’t think I’ve sobered up enough to drive.”

“Of course.”

Normal. Totally normal.

Rhys slipped out the door and Feyre pulled the covers up over herself, letting out a contented sigh at the scent of Rhys on her pillow.

God, she’s got it so bad. Fuck.

She’s just gotten settled in and is about to turn off the bedside light when her bedroom door opens again and Rhys pokes his head in.

“Sooo,” he draws out the o sound, “Mor and her friend are still up. Mind if I sleep in here?” Feyre’s heart immediately starts hammering in her chest. Luckily Rhys continues before she can open her mouth and say anything stupid. “On the floor, obviously.”

Right. On the floor. Obviously.

“Yeah, of course.” She sounds totally calm, right?

He drags in pillows and blankets from the couch, makes himself a bed on the floor, and is asleep in minutes. Feyre never understands how men can fall asleep so fast. But, soon enough, she’s out too, dreaming of swirling night skies and a familiar pair of eyes gazing down at her.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Feyre’s day had started slowly and painfully with a hangover of cosmic proportions from her night out with Rhys. She’d woken up to late morning sunlight through her gauzy curtains, almost screeching when she rolled over and saw Rhys on her floor. She’d completely forgotten in her compromised state that he’d slept there.

He was awake when she rolled over, reading a book he must’ve pulled from the stack on the floor within arms reach of him.

“Good morning. How’d you sleep down there?” she asked, sitting up and stretching.

Rhys pushed himself up to a seated position as well, groaning. “Fine enough, but I think I’m getting too old to sleep on a floor. My back hurts.”

Feyre snorted and thew a pillow at his head. “Old man.”

Rhys threw the pillow right back at her and Feyre ducked to dodge it, squealing. “Don’t forget I’m only 7 months older than you. Watch out, you’re next.”

They had breakfast and coffee with Mor in the kitchen, peppering her with questions about her night out and the later part of her night in.

It’d been a great morning despite the pounding headache and persistent nausea. Even given the great morning, though, Feyre is elated when Rhys heads back to his place and she can envelop herself in a scalding hot shower. She can feel the tension melting from her spine for the first time in days, luxuriating in the hot water, the feel of clean hair and clean skin and a day full of nothing ahead of her.

She’s seated on her bed in a towel, pulling a brush through her damp hair when her laptop chimes

It’s a private message on OnlyFans from one of her regular viewers, Eris. Feyre opens the message.

I’ve got a proposition for you.

Feyre has a feeling this can’t be anything good but her curiosity is piqued so she replies.

Oh? What’s that?

It doesn’t take him long to reply:

You’ve said you live in the Velaris area, right? I’m going to be there for work at the end of next week and I was wondering if I could see you?

Feyre’s eyebrows raise and then another message comes in quickly after.

I’d compensate you, of course.

Oh boy. This is not what Feyre had intended when she’d set up this account but it suddenly seems like the answer to her dilemma. She needs to find almost $1,500 in the next two weeks. She doesn’t need to make it a regular thing but one night…

How much are we talking?

As if this is a totally normal conversation for her.

$2,000 for the night. Plus dinner and drinks, my treat 😘

Feyre’s jaw drops. She could fix her car, pay her rent, and buy the art supplies she’s been eyeing all for a single night. There’s a pit in her stomach at the thought of crossing this line. But it’s just sex, right? People do this all the time. It wouldn’t be a big deal if it was a one night stand with someone she met at a bar so what’s the difference here?

Throw in dessert and you’ve got yourself a deal 🍰💋 Done.

Feyre’s stomach flips. Guess she’s doing this.

——————

thanks for the enthusiasm on the snippet I posted @tunaababee and @astra-aeterna 😘

more coming very soon!

[inoreuct]

hiii!

if youre willing could you please do (more) headcannons of (were)tiger!zoro x sanji?

or (were)tiger!zoro in general with the crew

HIIIIII YES YES ABSOLUTELY

he’s definitely very protective. if there’s one thing that can rival his tenacity for his dream, it’s his love for his crew. he knows that they can handle themselves but once the danger has passed he has to stand on his own metaphorical tail so that he doesn’t usher them all back to the ship and look them over one by one

even when he’s not a tiger he’s still vaguely cat-ish; he bristles when he feels threatened and yawns to casually put his canines on show as a subtle don’t-fuck-with-me. he just has a vaguely feline countenance to him. it’s in the way that he slinks when he walks, the head tilts when he’s focused or trying to intimidate, the way he tries to act uninterested but perks up when he’s excited 🤌🏼🤌🏼

(sanji finds it awfully endearing. he’d never admit it, though.)

the crew probably tries to keep the fact that he can shift under wraps, considering how many people would pay a pretty penny for his pelt (not that they’d succeed, but. still). HOWEVER. he’s a force to be reckoned with as a person, but if he gets mad enough even while around enemies/strangers he’ll just shift anyway and start ripping people apart with his teeth lmao, especially if his nakama need backup. the eyewitness accounts saying they saw a massive green tiger bounding across the battlefield with a sword in its mouth all sound crazy anyway 😭

i think he licks people just to fuck with them, but also to satisfy a grooming instinct. sanji definitely gets the brunt of it, since they share a bed more often than not; he’s woken up too many times to count with zoro nuzzling at his hair, or callused hands smoothing his bedhead back into place. when they’re arguing zoro will pop into tiger form and lick the hell out of sanji’s hair just to make the cook screech, but if he can tell that it’s not one of sanji’s good days he’ll cut it out because he’s a shithead, but not an asshole. come on.

DEFINITELY shifts when he’s getting yelled at. sanji or nami nagging at him? he turns into a giant tiger and flops down onto the floor to nap. sometimes he puts his paws over his ears for emphasis.

when they’re sailing through colder areas, he just watches indifferently as everybody else shivers and complains because he runs BLOODY hot and it doesn’t affect him at all. but then after dinner he shifts into his tiger form and pads around in a circle before laying down and blinks at them like …well? and they’re all scrambling curl up against him. he snaps at luffy’s fingers when luffy tries to pet his head, but luffy just goes “oop, sorry :p” and goes to sleep and, well. zoro supposes it isn’t all bad.

(he is so used to being the one pinning others down that the weight of his crew is an entirely new experience. he likes it more than he expects.)

speaking of touching. he only really welcomes sanji getting touchy-feely in his tiger form. he tolerates the occasional scratch behind the ear from luffy, because it’s luffy, but his captain knows he doesn’t really like his fur touched beyond that. enter stage right: sanji, who had the audacity to start petting zoro’s head absentmindedly while reading one of his french romance novels and using zoro as a backrest.

zoro had been purring before he even realised. then sanji had realised, and they’d both freaked out, and then zoro had scrambled up to the crow’s nest to figure out what the hell was going on. this whole incident was perhaps his biggest personal indicator that he liked sanji as more than just nakama; funny, because he hadn’t thought he’d like sanji very much at all, period.

he started paying more attention to how much he was willing to make exceptions for the cook, and sanji finally got the hint after weeks of zoro butting his head into his palm. it went something like:

sanji, scratching beneath zoro’s chin: nami, what do you mean he likes me? i do hope that he likes all of us, considering he’s— nami, about to jump overboard: you idiot. you fucking idiot. sanji, leaning against zoro’s side leisurely: nami what do you MEAN nami: HE CAUGHT YOU FISH. *pointing at the huge net full of tuna* sanji, zoro draped across his shoulders like a shawl: HE’S FEEDING THE CREW! nami, at her limit, eye twitching, so close to ripping her hair out: HE’S FEEDING YOU

mind you, throughout all of this zoro’s being absolutely useless and just sitting there incredibly amused. he hadn’t minded waiting for sanji to come around on his own, and that in itself was a sign that he’d been gone from the beginning.

sanji is the only one zoro has EVER rolled onto his back around. his belly is the most vulnerable spot on his entire body; sanji knows what a privilege it is. it’s essentially zoro’s version of puppy dog eyes.

i think he had plenty of run-ins with hunters when he was younger. his pelt is thick and vibrant and highly sought-after, and a few close shaves had left him with scars and major wariness of people in general. he used to hide the fact that he was a weretiger at all cost but now… well, now protecting his crew’s more important. s’not like they’d let anything get to him, anyway.

i see him as a wahnsien tiger, with black stripes and fur in various shades of green; he’s big, heavy too. the first time he woke up with sanji squashed beneath him he panicked a little inside but the cook was fine. his eyes are gold in his tiger form, luminous like all cats’ are, and hella unsettling.

which is interesting, because i like to think that after so many years he’s picked up a few tricks and now? he can sort of half-shift. lengthen his fangs or claws with a neat snk or make his eyes phase burning gold when he wants to scare someone; it’s a brilliant intimidation tactic but it takes a lot of concentration, so he only ever does it on home turf where they have enough territorial advantage for him to feel safe doing it.

wow okay this got LONG. i’m sure i’ll think of more but that’s all i have for now! THANK YOU FOR THE ASK ANON 🫶🏼

part 1 | part 3

[tommykinard6]

Bucktommy panty kink!

Oooooh yes I love a good panty kink. Thanks for the prompt anon!

***

The roll of anxiety in Tommy’s stomach keeps his leg bouncing as he sits at the dining table, listening to his boyfriend cleaning in the kitchen. They’d just finished dinner and Buck had kissed his cheek and told him to wait while he cleaned up.

Tommy usually would argue, but tonight he simply nodded. It’s because of the anxiety in his belly and the unfamiliar feeling of silk rubbing against him that makes him think he’s better off sitting until Buck has finished.

They’d talked about it a while ago, back when they sat down to discuss kinks in general. Both of them are into panties, Buck neutral towards wearing them and Tommy liking it. It had been something they promised to revisit but they haven’t had the chance.

Tommy didn’t tell Buck at the time about his stash in the back of his closet. But Tommy was looking for something earlier that day and stumbled across them and that’s how he ended up here, sitting at the table in his favorite pair.

He’s jolted out of his thoughts by his boyfriend’s arms wrapping around him, a soft kiss being placed to his neck.

“Hey baby,” Buck’s voice is deep and warm, enveloping Tommy like a hug in itself.

Tommy relaxes into his boyfriend’s body, tilting his head so that their lips brush. “Hey,” he murmurs.

There’s something about kissing his boyfriend, the headiness and the trust and the neediness of it all. It’s something he can get lost in, something he can do forever. He barely even notices as they slowly make their way into the bedroom, tearing at each other’s clothes. Their lips are together far more than they’re apart and Tommy forgets everything but the feel of his boyfriend’s lips as deft fingers mess with his pants.

Until suddenly, Buck pulls away with a gasp and looks down between them. “Fuck, what-?” He breathes out and Tommy whines at the loss before getting his bearings back. Then he realizes. Buck is staring straight at the blue silk that’s barely containing his half hard cock, peeking out from where his pants are undone and pushed partially down his hips.

There’s silence for a long moment as Buck stares and Tommy regains his composure. Breathing out harshly, he asks, “Evan?”

Buck’s eyes shoot up to meet Tommy’s and the older man swallows harshly at the sight of them, beautiful blue swallowed almost whole by black desire. “Fuck, Tommy,” he groaned, hands swiftly pushing the pilot’s pants down to mid-thigh and then grasping his plush ass in both hands, squeezing it and shifting the silk just enough to make Tommy gasp as it dragged along his cock. “Baby, how long have you been wearing these?”

“Almost all day,” Tommy replies, shocking himself at the breathiness overtaking his voice. Seeing the desire in Buck’s eyes, the raspiness in his voice, make any nervousness disappear. Instead, his hips twitch under his boyfriend’s gaze.

Buck’s hands push at his shoulders and Tommy falls backwards onto the mattress, letting the younger man take the lead willingly. Buck pulls his pants off the rest of the way, leaving Tommy fully exposed except for the blue panties that leave nothing to the imagination.

He watches Buck’s eyes trail over him and the way the blue silk hugs everything. How his cock, fully hard now, pokes out of the top of his panties, the rest of the material doing everything it can to contain his bulge. How the fabric is damp and clings to him like it was painted on.

Tommy spreads his legs and Buck’s eyes immediately drift downwards, to his hole that the thin strip of material doesn’t fully hide. He squirms under Buck’s gaze and drops his own eyes to his boyfriend’s considerable length, filling out his boxers in a promise.

God, Tommy needs to be railed.

And Buck seems to be thinking the same thing. “Turn over.”

As Tommy scrambles to do so, he sees Buck reaching for the drawer of the nightstand where the lube is. They’d stopped wearing condoms recently and Tommy swallows as he thinks about Buck’s cum filling him up.

He’s 40, not 20. Logic and science dictate that the horniness and drive he feels so often for his boyfriend shouldn’t be so easy, but God he can’t help it.

“Hold yourself open for me while I prep you, baby.” And as Tommy reaches to pull down his panties for better access, Buck’s hand stops him. “Nuh uh. They stay on.”

Tommy whines low in his throat and pulls aside the strip to expose himself to his boyfriend. He’s going to not be able to walk and they both know it.

Tommy decides that he’s going to pull out his long neglected lingerie next, if it gets him anything like tonight.

[winniemaywebber]

Hey English! For the July prompts can you do missing teeth for Jean and Croz, and €17 for Olive and Dougie? Kisses, love you soo💗

hey pookie!!!! thanks for these, they were so cutie 🥺

under the cut!

missing teeth

Jean Crosby pulls up to the dentist’s office, apparently right on time. Just as she cuts the engine and goes to grab her purse from the passenger side, the door swings open and reveals a nurse, pushing Harry Crosby in a wheelchair. He looks dazed, tired yet finally pain free.

After a tough few days of aching gums and salt gargles doing nothing to help him, the time had come - Binger needed his wisdom teeth removed. “As soon as possible,” his dentist had grimaced, commenting on the fact he had never seen teeth so impacted. “From grinding your teeth, I don’t doubt, Mr Crosby.” They had booked the appointment for the very next day, Jean leaving their son Joseph with his Aunt Josephine and Uncle Rosie.

“Maybe we could join you at the park after I’ve picked up Bing,” Jean had said hopefully, when she dropped Jojo off with his aunt. “He should be okay. They say the removal will be without fuss.” “There is no way, Jeanie,” Jo had laughed in reply. “Remember when Robbie had his taken out last month? He was done for, for a whole two days. Harry Crosby will be worse.”

Jean laughed nervously, knowing she was right. 

“Jeanie Buuuuuuug!” Croz yells, seeing his wife open the car door. She shakes her head at him, giggling, not really believing that she’s seeing this silly side of her husband. “Look at me, all loopy.” He mumbles, mouth stuffed with cotton. Nevertheless, he sings her name again as he is helped out of the wheelchair and into the car.

“Bubbles was right,” Jean sighs, fastening his seatbelt as Croz tries to lean in for a blood-soaked kiss. “You do sing like a donkey.”

Jean thanks the bemused nurse and drives away, intent on getting Bing home so he can rest.

“Can we go goo Owive and Douthie’s? Or Brady and Ool’s?” He asks, drooling slightly.

“Olive and Dougie’s?” Jean asks, making sure she’s translating his mumbled speech. He nods emphatically. “No, darling,” she soothes. “Home and rest!” “Awwww,” he groans. “Wanted oo show Douthie my teef.” “Your teeth?” “Yah,” he begins, pulling out a small pile of tissue paper. “Missing teef.” “For goodness sake, Binger!”

There is a silence between them, Jean concentrating on the road.

“Bout Evwitt and Bal? Evwitt will wanna see my teef.”

“No, darling. He wouldn’t.”

€17

“And what in the world is this?” Val asks, that famous furrow prevalent as she yanks out Olive’s hair straighteners. “It’s a flat iron,” Olive explains, pulling even more books from her stuffed satchel. “You use it on your hair!” “Why would anyone want flat hair?” She responds while zhuzhing her dark tresses. Olive titters.

“It’s the style, Brooklyn! Nobody has hair like ours in my time.” “They’re missing out!” Val exclaims. “Keep or trash?” “Even if I could have flat hair here, Valencia,” she begins. “There’s nowhere to plug the bugger in. Trash!”

Val throws the flat iron into their small waste bin triumphantly, a smug grin on her face. “Looks like it’s just pin curls for you now, English. Right, what’s next?” 

As Val digs into another of Olive’s numerous bags, Dougie and Ev meander into the Donut Dollies hut. Dougie smiles at the pile of luggage before greeting his girl.

“Hiya, dolly,” he says softly, wrapping his arm around her waist. “How’s it going?” “Good!” She replies, pouting for a kiss. “Just making myself at home.” “Finally!” He cheers. 

“You both need help?” Ev asks, finally pulling away from kissing Val a hundred times. 

“Be my guest,” Olive gestures, the pile overwhelming her. 

Both men get stuck in right away, Dougie digging into a small handbag while Ev scrambles through a trash bag. Dougie pulls a clear bag from the purse, pouring a handful of coins out of it into his hand and inspecting them.

“Honey girl,” he starts. She looks over from stacking books on her small allocated shelf. “What’s these?” “Oh!” She realizes, squinting at the gold in his hand. “Euros.” “Your what?” “Euros, lovey,” she giggles. “From the last holiday me and Papa took. We went to Paris together.”

“Then it’d be francs, Maude,” Ev interjects, throwing a broken compact in the bin. “France uses francs.” “Changes in 1999, Ernest,” Olive throws back, a knowing twinkle in her eye.

“Wow,” he breathes. “Doesn’t even sound like a real year.”

“Yeah, don’t like that,” Val smiles. 

“I do,” Dougie joins. He turns to Olive, and kisses her. “You’ll still be my dolly, even then.” “Old and crusty together, sweetness.” “Can’t wait,” he grins. “Hey, Kenny wants to see new money, doesn’t he? Let’s go show him!”

The gang instantly drop what they’re doing and depart the hut, playfully shoving each other out the door, the promise of grabbing a beer on the way to bring to Kenny and Wink cemented as they stroll into the evening air together. 

[fluffyxai]

Melyssa the Lamia

Aaaah it's finally here! I've been working on htis ref sheet for a hot minute. I was veeeeery happy with how the main drawing came out! Except that I couldn't fit her necklace on XD Please don't forget her necklace if you can fit it! Melyssa is a character I first drew ages ago as just a one-off thing. a cobra hooded lamia hypnotising berry twist. Then everyone wanted a piece of her coils (I wonder why) and wanted to commission her. So I ended up making her a permenant character. But she's never really had a proper full ref sheet. just whatever I could throw together. THIS HERE is the definitive, up-to-date, accurate reference sheet for Melyssa. You should defer to this one over all others. You are welcome to draw Melyssa or write about her if you would like to.

Melyssa is a beautiful creature that has the upper body resembling a pony and a lower body of a serpentine form. Her long, smooth, shiny coils can easily wrap a pony up all the way! Or maybe even two or three. (they cna change size a little if she needs them too.) She lives in an abandoned temple on the other side of the everfree forest, kinda in the middle of nowhere. (Not the castle of the two sisters, further than that and a different direction I think probably. I dunno, one only ever seems to find Melyssa's abode when they're hopelessly lost!) Melyssa LOVES the feeling of holding ponies in her coils and hugging them. She'll capture ponies and cuddle with them all day. This sounds great, but she also sometimes eats ponies! so be careful. She has a very powerful version of the same magic that the snakes in the Everfree forest do, which lets her dominate a pony's mind and scramble their thoughts, putting them in a lovely, warm and relaxed state of complete freedom from their thoughts and worries. For the price of their complete obedience, of course~ But I hear it feels super nice to have the honour of being put under this beautiful lamia's spell. You just have to understand she'll probably keep you for a while and play with you, maybe letting you think you've shaken off her power and can make an escape for it, only to find out she was playing snake & mouse with you the whole time.

[ironverseocs]

OC Valentine's Challenge 2024 -> Day 1: First Love

(Read on AO3)

Melissa scrambled up the limbs, hand over hand, feet scraping bark off where they struck and kicked off against the organism. She laughed as she chased Jackson higher up.

“Race ya to the top!” he said, unnecessarily so since he was already a yard from the last bough with two yards between him and Melissa.

“Says you with the head start,” Melissa sneered playfully. Nonetheless, she eagerly spurred on the pace.

Once she reached the last stable bough – something sturdy enough to support her weight to sit on –, she seated herself with her legs hanging off one side and her left hand wrapping around the top of the trunk for support. Jackson mirrored her on the opposite side. She could see half his face through the needles of the pine.

“So, what is it you wanted to give me?” she asked.

Jackson just smiled, a little bit sly, a little bit coy.

Melissa frowned.

“Don’t tell me it’s just this. Like, the view or whatever,” she said, finishing in thought, because that would be lame.

“It’s not.”

She waited for him to continue, to say what it was, but he held silent another moment longer.

“So?” she drew out. “What goes, Jack?”

Jackson sucked in his lips, pressing his mouth into a line. Suddenly, it was like all his glee had vanished and only his giddiness remained. He stared at her a second longer, then ripped his gaze away to stare at the ground below, a sizable drop below. Was that… sheepishness she was seeing? Why would he be scared? They had hung out all Summer since the moment he moved to her neighbourhood. They went to the movies together, biked to the far side of town, stayed up late into the night playing video games under the same roof or apart and online, speaking through headsets, trying to keep their voices low so they don’t wake up the whole of their households. His eyes drifted to a pocket on his cargo shorts before glancing behind him.

Melissa’s brows knit harder into one another.

He shoved his hand into the pocket and pulled out a parcel—brown paper wrapping with a red string tying off.

“Happy birthday,” he said quietly—in a tone that blew away all thought from the girl’s mind—and pressed his hand forward.

It was all Melissa could do to stare at it.

“For you,” he urged.

“Right. Duh,” she parried back and caught him in a glance before she took the parcel into her own hands. She flipped it over, studied the way the knot in the string was made and the tape was laid perfectly parallel with the edges of the paper. She looked at Jackson again.

There was a lump suddenly in her throat. “What is it?”

“Are you forgetting how gift giving works? You’re supposed to unwrap it and find out!”

Melissa holds back her sheepishness and peels the tape off with her fingertips. The package is irregularly shaped, cylindrical but squat, about one inch deep and three in diameter. It’s heavy, making Melissa guess it to be made of metal. She finishes peeling off the last of the tape, unraveled the paper, and revealed —

Her eyes flash wide and round; glittering bronze, polished glass, a shifting stick half red, half white with letters inscribed around the outside. White on black. Despite its now polished nature, she can tell it used to be old. An antique.

“Jackson, I — how much—” Breath catches in her throat. “This must have cost…” She doesn’t know exactly, but the gist…? “A lot. What made you– why– ?”

He shrugs. “I knew you’d like it. And…” He looks away, his cheeks tingeing with pink. “I like you.”

It’s Melissa’s turn to turn pink, from the tips of her ears to the bridge of her nose. Butterflies begin to flutter in her stomach, preparing for a liftoff. He likes me? she repeats internally, trying to comprehend what that actually means. She blinks, trying to make sense of it, and then it hits her: Yeah, right, he likes her; they’re friends. Why would he hang out with her if he didn’t like her?

But then, why would he have to say something like that, if both of us already know it’s true?

“Sure,” she says simply, cautiously, “like, as a friend, right?” Melissa studies the antique compass resting in her palm while in wait for a response. While probing the space for clarity, she cannot look at him. She cannot give him more than her carefully chosen words. She cannot take this too fast— assume too much, and fall flat on her face as a result.

“No, like…”

Jackson’s hand is suddenly on her wrist, gentle yet alluring, and the gesture tugs at her mind enough that she allows her curiosity to take over. She shifts eyes to the corners, lifts her chin a fraction… he takes his hand away, now that he’s got her attention, and smiles—a small smile not like the one before slightly sly but innocent and pure like stars in a midnight sky.

“Like this.” He leans forward, over the tops of the pine branches, and presses a kiss to her cheek. Before she can react, he pulls back, suddenly flushed with colour, gaze sheepishly casting down. But then, he realises, and his posture springs up; he looks alarmed. “I’m sorry. That was probably too much. I think I—”

“No,” Melissa states firmly, and her confidence shocks the both of them. “Why ‘sorry’?” And then she laughs. She can’t help it. The lost puppy look on his face makes it all ten times better. She should stop— she should sober up and ease his worries, but she can’t, for all she’s feeling is one hundred percent glee. “No no, you can’t be sorry,” she starts again. “Because if you’re sorry, I can’t do this.”

As best she can, Melissa twists on the branch she’s sitting on so she’s facing him, closes her fist around the compass (to tuck it into her coat pocket), and then reaches herself forward to catch him on the lips.

It’s a quick peck. Like his was to her cheek. But Melissa hopes it conveys all the sentiment she is unable to express into words. For things like this, words barely do the feelings justice. A simple ‘thank you’ does not express the warmth behind her sternum, filling up her ribcage.

When she pulls back…

“I like you, too,” she says. “So, there.”

Jackson’s smile is slow to grow across his face, but he says back to her, “There.”

“Thank you,” Melissa presses, “times a million, for the present. I can’t believe that you’d… How did you afford it?”

“Told my dad I wanted it, then gave it to you.”

Just like that? If she were in another state of mind (not a young love-spun one), she’d marvel at how easy he made that sound, how Jackson had spoken of his deed like it was easier than a breeze. Like using his parent to give him something that he wasn’t even going to keep… and then giving it to her… the awe of it wrapped around Melissa’s mind and would not let go.

“Well, tell you dad thanks for spending the money,” she jokes.

He smiles.

"But,—" more sincere, "thank you for getting it in the first place."

They’re back to their usual dynamic, it seems, but with one very significant change:

Now, they hold each other’s hands.

–

forever taglist -> @ocappreciation @ochub @arrthurpendragon @foxesandmagic @shrinkthisviolet @themaradwrites @goldheartedchaoticdisaster | dm me or send an ask if you'd like to be added :)

[crimsonkenjii-writes]

NSFW Aki Hayakawa Headcanons

nsfw • mdni

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

Whimpers and moans a lot, lowkey kind of loud. Tries to stifle his moans by biting on his lip, kissing you or even biting you — leaving a noticeable bite mark on your skin where your neck and shoulder meet

Sometimes is too loud and the next day Denji and Power are mocking him and he turns bright red and threatens to unalive them. They both make fun about how he sounded like he was the girl on the receiving end

Likes to cum on you, just something about pulling out last minute and cumming all over your stomach and seeing you glazed in it makes him feral and he’s instantly hard again

Likes you being on top a lot so you riding him is one of his favorite positions whether he’s laying down or sitting up with you bouncing in his lap and his hands gripping your hips and waist

Days where he’s feeling a lot more intimate, he loves to cuddlefuck. Holds you so extremely close to him and whispers “I love you” nonstop into your ear. Loves it when you’re underneath him — trapped under his weight and your legs wrapped around his waist so tight and both of your arms holding on to each other, his face buried in your neck as he’s slowly but roughly thrusting into you

Usually comes after a really tough mission he was afraid he wouldn’t make it out of so he might end crying a little, just imagining leaving you all alone and breaking your heart. Overwhelms him and a few tears slip out. Wants to just keep holding each other after you both finish, a little shy to show his face since he eyes are swollen from crying. Keeps your face tucked into his chest as he continues holding you just as close

Was super against balcony sex at first, not wanting to showcase such a display. It was so out in the open he would have felt so exposed. Because not only could other onlookers from outside catch a glimpse, but there was no bedroom door to lock and his roommates could easily walk in and see everything.

But one day you give him head when he’s sat outside taking a smoke and he starts to open up to the idea more. Imaging you riding him on his chair or your hands gripping onto the rail as he pounds you from behind

Meowy has definitely walked in on the both of you a few times and it made Aki so uncomfortable. He tried ignoring Meowy but could see them licking themselves from the corner of his eye. Turns over and makes eye contact with the damn cat and stops immediately

“I can’t, they’re just looking at me.” He’ll grumble, frustrated from the mood being killed.

Denji and Power have most definitely walked in on you two at least once as well. He always swears his locked his door but maybe the eagerness to fuck you made it slip his mind and Denji walks in to ask what’s for dinner seeing Aki’s whole backside naked and a pair of legs over his shoulders. Denji damn near vomits but can’t stop laughing about it later and making fun of Aki but is secretly jealous.

Power was being a little shit and kept banging on his door to let her in so she could borrow his shirt because her favorite one was currently in the washer. Aki yells at her that he’s busy and tries to bring his focus back to you. But then she uses her blood weapons to bust open his door and instantly screams, talking about how humans are so vile. Aki scrambles to cover the both of you and to slam his door shut, yelling at Power for not only barging in but for breaking his damn door.

One time he tried having shower sex with you to decrease the chance of his feral roommates barging in but then he was “taking too long” in the shower it got cut short. His roommates banging on the door as if their lives depended on it and shouting at the top of their lungs for the both of you to get out.

Oh, and let’s not forget about dick size. I can see Aki being about 6 inches with a nice 4 inch girth. More on the average side but still just a tad bigger. It curves up slightly and has one prominent vein running along the side. It’s overall really pretty like him. Also has nicely trimmed patch of hair at the base, sometimes it’ll grow out a little if he gets too caught up in his work to care about trimming. Tries to keep it tame as much as possible because he thinks it’ll make him look nicer for you.

[frogtanii]

℗ me and my husband

atsumu x fem!reader (poker face ending)

series masterlist

♡´･ᴗ･`♡

wc. 3.2k (holy shit)

warnings. NOT PROOFREAD, v v soft domestic, marriage :00, smut!! (is marked off!!), soft dom!tsumu, hair pulling (giving), unprotected sex, slight praise kink, pretty vanilla ngl

an. can be read as a one shot but u might be confused lmfao also this took SO LONG OMFG also also heavily unedited, take things w a grain of salt lmfao anyways don’t forget to feed me ahaha m rlly proud of this so i hope y’all like it <33

it was moving day and atsumu was about to lose his mind.

today was the official day of the hyper house disbandment and while most of the members were still figuring out new living arrangements and thus remaining past the deadline, you were one of the few trying to get out as soon as possible.

makki and mattsun were so excited to have you move in, they showed up early that morning to help you pack. now, it was around 1p and it was almost time for you to go. you still had a few more boxes to go but things were speeding right along.

normally, atsumu would be right by your best friends helping you out but he was currently in the middle of a breakdown.

you were leaving. leaving. he had no idea when he’d see you again (even though you promised to meet up weekly to catch up), if he would ever see you again. for all he knew, makki and mattsun would just hide you away forever, never to be seen again.

okay, so he was panicking.

it was just... atsumu was in love with you. he’d known for a while (way longer than he’d like to admit) and he selfishly thought he’d have more time with you so that he could work up the courage to confess. but now? you were like three boxes away from a distance that he didn’t know if he or your relationship could recover from.

it wasn’t that he was bad at long distance but the tragic events that the house brought, brought the two of you closer together and he didn’t want to lose that.

atsumu let out a groan and dropped his head against the wall, his mind running with scenario after scenario, all ending in failure and utter embarrassment.

“hey, you okay?” you called out, a large box cradled delicately in your arms. as atsumu turned from the plaster in front of him, he allowed himself a moment to take you in.

you were wearing short athletic shorts, worn converses, and his t shirt. a thin sheen of sweat covered your skin, the lights above reflecting off of it, giving you a warm glow.

of course you looked hot moving boxes.

you called his name again in concern and he immediately felt his heart clench in guilt. you’d already been through so so much and here he was fantasizing about you instead of being there for you like a good friend would.

atsumu let out a sigh and shot you a wide, albeit empty, smile before walking over to you and taking the box out of your hands. the furrow in your brows told him you saw through his expression but he ignored it and made a show of lifting your box above his head and carrying it to mattsun’s car.

“see, what would ya do without these guns angel?” he joked, placing the cardboard into the trunk. you rolled your eyes and poked him in the side playfully. “die, probably.”

the butterflies in his stomach kicked up at the underlying sincerity in your voice but he tried his best to overlook it. it was much harder than it seemed, especially when you looked at him with such fondness in your gaze that made him want to kiss you senseless.

gulping hard, he quickly turned away from you, busying himself with fitting your things in the truck like a game of tetris.

“atsumu.” your voice was firm but pleading and he didn’t dare look at you for fear of spilling everything right then and there. “wow, ya sure got a lot of stuff, huh? wonder how much of this was bought with ushijima’s money,” he started to ramble but thankfully he was interrupted by makki whooping as he walked out of the house.

“last box bitches!” you shot atsumu one final worried look before running over to makki and mattsun, yelling the whole way there.

atsumu was grateful your back was to him because he couldn’t hide the affectionate look that overtook his face, a soft smile spreading across his lips as he watched you hip bump your friends while cackling wildly.

god, he was so in love with you.

what was he going to do when you moved out and away? what if you found someone, someone how loved you as much as he did (not possible)? he would wish for your happiness even at the expense of his own but... what if you both could be happy?

caught up in his thoughts, atsumu didn’t register you saying your goodbyes to the remaining members until you were finally in front of him.

“i’m gonna miss living with you tsum.” you unceremoniously launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest. his heart leapt violently at the contact and he prayed to every deity above that you didn’t hear it underneath your head.

he barely managed to hug you back before you pulled away, your eyes slightly teary and red. “um, well, makki and mattsun are waiting for me so uh,” you trailed off looking back at the van and your friends who were so (im)patiently waiting for you to join them.

atsumu’s breath quickened as you scooted a bit away from him, truly getting ready to leave. no, no, it couldn’t end like this, awkward and distant. no, he wasn’t going to let it.

“atsumu?” you asked worriedly, reaching out a hand to touch him when he didn’t respond but he couldn’t hear you. he felt hot all over, like he was going to explode or magically combust if he didn’t get the words out into the air.

“tsum, are you oka-“ “i’m in love with ya.”

you paused, shock written clearly all over your face. the fear of rejection slammed into atsumu like a brick, the feeling settling in the pit of his stomach like a rock but he still didn’t stop.

“i’m in love with ya and i have been for forever. yn, yer beautiful but yer face and body aren’t even the best part of ya, even though they’re pretty damn great. yer just-“

“tsum-“

“-yer so kind, especially when ya don’t need ta be. yer badass but ya care fer others so deeply and ya make me wanna be a better person. ya make me a better person. i know ya-“

“tsumu please-“

“-ya probably don’t feel the same and that’s alright but i needed ta tell ya, before ya leave and fall in love with some other scrub, just in case we can be happy together and-“

all of a sudden, your hands were buried in his shirt and you were pulling him close to meet your lips with his, your mouths meshing together in a soft and passionate kiss.

bliss. atsumu was in sheer bliss. your lips were as soft as he thought they would be as they moved with his, his hands coming up to grip your waist and pull you even closer to him.

sooner than he would have liked, his lungs started burning for air so he pulled back but not very far, instead resting his forehead against yours.

“i was trying to tell you i liked you too, idiot,” you muttered, your eyes still closed as you spoke. he chuckled, a wide grin overtaking his entire face as he really took in what you were saying.

you liked him back. you liked him. holy shit.

but instead of saying any of that, he decided to tease you a bit. “just like? if i recall, i just confessed my undying love for ya.”

you pulled back with a faux scoff, hitting him in the arm with a huff. “shut up you ass. of course i love you too.” you couldn’t keep your real smile off your cheeks while you confessed, your soft expression bringing another wave of desire over atsumu’s body.

“can, can i take ya inside angel?” he allowed his true intentions to be heard in his words, your eyes widening when you figured out what he meant. you nodded vigorously before shooting a look to makki and mattsun. mattsun just waved you off and got into his truck while makki yelled, “get that dick!”

you heated up horribly, grabbing atsumu’s hand and pulling him towards the house and to his room. he allowed himself to be dragged along, sending winks to the other boys as he went until the two of you were standing right in front of his door.

“i love ya,” he whispered, lifting your hand to his lips to place a gentle kiss there. you grinned. “love you too tsum.”

that must have been the final straw because the minute the words left your mouth, he was on you.

••• smut begin•••

pressing you up against the door, atsumu ravaged your mouth, his tongue tangling with yours as he walked you backwards into his room, laying you down on the bed so that he was hovering over you, his hips pressing hard against yours.

instinctively, you ground up into him, rewarding you with a loud groan and a gasp of your name. “fuck angel, yer killing me here,” he laughed breathlessly, rolling his hardness against your thigh. you let out a breathy moan and tangled your hands in his hair to bring him back down to your lips.

as you continued to kiss him, his hands scrambled at your waist, pushing his hands under it to grope at your chest. you giggled at the cold of his fingers but he didn’t pay it any mind, moving down from your mouth to your neck, sucking dark marks into the sensitive skin there.

“ah, shit tsumu,” you tilted your head to the side to give him more access, just as he reached under your bra to tease your nipples. a startled gasp left you, your back arching into his careful touch. “that feel good angel?” atsumu asked, voice low and gravelly as he pinched the delicate bud, drawing another noise from your throat.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. you bit your bottom lip while he pulled your shirt and bra off, tossing them somewhere in the room. as he scanned your half naked body, he noticed you quieting yourself and he lightly shook his head. his thumb found its way to your lip, carefully pulling it from between your teeth.

“wanna hear ya angel, let me hear yer pretty noises, yeah?” without letting you respond, atsumu dove back into your chest, suckling one of your nipples into his mouth while toying with the other, a sigh of his name sending a bolt of arousal straight to his loins.

he grinded against you absentmindedly, losing himself in you, eventually switching sides to give the same treatment to your neglected bud.

while atsumu seemed to be having the time of his life attached to your tit, you were getting impatient, your arousal completely soaking through your underwear. you needed more.

tangling your fingers in his blond locks, you attempted to tug him away from your chest but his reaction was unlike anything you could’ve expected. “aahh!” he let out a strangled whine, his hips bucking against your side.

“please, tsumu, need more,” you breathed, his needy reaction not lost on you as pulled his hair a bit harder. you were not disappointed as his eyes rolled back and his mouth opened in a silent moan before dropping his head to your shoulder.

“fuck, fuck, okay angel, i got ya, i got ya.” atsumu swiftly disposed of both yours and his bottoms and underwear before lifting your leg and positioning himself at your entrance.

“tell me if i hurt ya, alright? i love ya,” he smiled down on you, your heart swelling two times at his carefulness. “i love you too,” you replied, watching as his pupils grew and a low groan broke free from his chest.

“oh angel, ‘m gonna ruin ya.” that was the last thing he said before he pushed into you, both of you letting out whimpers as he stretched you open, the blunt head of his cock just a few centimeters shy of your cervix.

your back arched in pleasure, both of your hands scrambling until they found purchase on his back, your nails digging in just when he started to thrust shallowly into you.

“f-fuck, how’re ya s-so fuckin’ tight?” atsumu growled through gritted teeth, every word punctuated with a roll of his hips. you couldn’t respond as you were too overwhelmed with pleasure, his cock rubbing against your g-spot with every slow movement.

speaking of slow, he was moving way too leisurely for your tastes. you needed him to move faster and you knew exactly how to do it.

sliding your hand up from his back, you grabbed a good chunk of hair from the back of his head and pulled. his reaction was immediate and oh-so gratifying.

an honest to god whimper poured from his lips and he instantly thrusted all the way into you, his length driving into your g-spot perfectly. you both let out twin moans as he started rocking into consistently, every movement bringing you closer and closer to your peak.

“i love ya, i love ya so fuckin’ much, angel—shit—yer so amazing, i love ya,” atsumu rambled while pounding into you, deep curses and whines of your name interspersed with his declarations of love. if you could speak, you would reciprocate but you were too busy holding on for dear life as he fucked you into oblivion.

desperate for some kind of anchor to reality, you grasped onto his locks again, gripping tightly as drawn-out cries of his name slipped from your open lips. you were close, so close and he knew it too.

“feel ya clenchin’ around me like a good girl, ya gonna cum fer me? gonna cum fer me angel?” atsumu’s hand snaked down between your bodies to rub fast circles on your clit, a shaky sob finding its way out into the open air.

“oh shit, yeah, ‘m g-gonna cum for you tsum, ‘s all for you,” you moaned, clamping down on him sporadically as you started to cum, your vision whiting out and your thighs trembling while you gushed around him.

your mind was floating off when you felt him cum with a shout, his warmth flooding you and spilling out as he collapsed onto your chest.

••• smut over •••

the two of you lied there for a while, attempting to regain your brain and feeling in your legs. you vaguely made note of the wet rag cleaning between your thighs and the following weight falling down beside you but it was only after a few more minutes that you really came back to yourself, rolling over to lay on atsumu’s bare chest.

“holy shit, tsumu,” you said in awe, your boyfriend (!!) laughing at your reaction. “i’m just that good angel, what can i say?”

you groaned and hit him in the chest but you couldn’t keep the smile off your face if you tried. “you are such a menace!”

“only fittin’ that i picked a gremlin ta be with then,” atsumu teased while playing with a piece of your hair. mock offense filled your chest as you sat up, fixing him with your ‘angriest’ glare.

“is that the kind of language you’ll be using in your vows, mister?” you were only joking but when atsumu’s eyes widened and a blush spread across his cheeks, you realized your mistake.

you opened your mouth to apologize or to make some kind of excuse but he beat you to the punch. “ya wanna marry me angel?” he asked, looking so vulnerable with hope shining in his brown irises. you couldn’t bear to lie.

“of course tsum, you’re it for me,” you reached out a hand to caress his cheek and he leaned into it, his own coming up to cup yours and hold it against his face.

“good.” and that was the end of that, that evening’s... extraneous activities having thoroughly tired to the point that you fell completely asleep with your face against one of his pecs.

if you had stayed awake a little longer, you would’ve seen atsumu pull out his phone and start a new note titled, “my angel.”

if i just said i loved you, it would be an understatement. it would be like saying the sun’s surface is just a bit warm or that the arctic is just a little chilly. it would be an injustice to you and to how i truly feel about you. love—

“-is a word that is much too soft and used far too often ta ever describe the fierce, infinite and blazing passion that i have in my heart for ya angel. ya acknowledge my strengths and ya accept my faults. ya make me wanna be a better person every day. so, today i vow ta laugh with ya and comfort ya during times of joy and times of sorrow. i promise ta always pursue ya, ta fight for ya, and love ya unconditionally and wholeheartedly for the rest of my life. ya are my best friend and i’m the luckiest person on earth ta call ya mine- wait are ya crying?"

the audience burst into laughter as you frantically tried to wipe away your tears, punching atsumu softly on the arm. “of course i am, you ass.”

the officiant cleared his throat, grabbing both of your attentions. “it is the bride’s turn to give her vows. if you may?”

you nodded and atsumu already felt like crying. again. he’d cried that morning while getting dressed and then again when you walked down the aisle in the most beautiful dress he had ever seen. now, as he watched you pull a folded piece of paper out of your bra, he knew he’d made the right decision in confessing to you, all those years ago.

he also knew he was definitely going to cry again.

“atsumu, falling for you wasn’t falling at all—it was walking into a house and knowing that you’re home. today, i want to make you promises that i will always keep. i promise to never stop holding your hand or accepting your kisses. i promise to not hit you too hard when you insult me or call me a gremlin. i promise to share my food with you, to never go to bed angry, and to try and understand your obsession with professional men’s volleyball. i promise to love, respect, protect and trust you, and give you the best of myself, for i know that together we will build a life far better than either of us could imagine alone. i choose you. i’ll choose you over and over and over, without pause, without doubt, i’ll keep choosing you.

i used to never truly enjoy moments because i was always waiting for what's next. the next thing horrible thing to happen. now that i have you, i enjoy the moment. every moment.

today seems like it's the start of a new journey, but i already belong to you. falling for you wasn't falling at all—it was walking into a house and knowing you're home. i love you.”

and at least in this lifetime

we’re sticking together

me and my husband

we’re sticking together

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saiKishaircLip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp • @keiarma • @shrimpypenis

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[kiridarling]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐈𝐢𝐝𝐚, 𝐃𝐞𝐤𝐮, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐮.

(ft. panty-stealing, cum-filled boxers, tipsy!shinsou and f!reader)

—ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴀɴ 𝟷𝟾+ ʙʟᴏɢ. ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ᴅɴɪ

𝐈𝐈𝐃𝐀.

→ poor boy doesn’t know what’s going on :(

→ you’re the new girl and he just cannot tell what makes you different from the others! You wear the same uniform as mina and yet your thighs distract him in the middle of mr. aizawa’s lecture. you and uraraka use the same shampoo and yet your scent is the one he tries to remember, late at night when the moons high in the sky and everyone on his floor are halfway through their rem cycle.

→ either way, iida’s made a grave mistake.

→ because he’s stolen your panties—but technically it’s not his fault because you accidentally dropped them in the common room while doing laundry—but now iida has them and he can’t return them now, can he? no, no. that’d be even worse.

→ ...and they smell like you a bit.

→ and iida’s truly got to he some kind of heathen, because now he’s hard (yes he knows what that is, despite what denki says behind his back) and maybe iida’s undoing his belt, and maybe he’s wrapping your panties around his cock that’s already soaked with precum and that plus the spit in his palm provides enough friction to make his thighs clench.

→ and—oh no. he likes this. he likes this a lot.

→ and when iida closes his eyes, he can pretend its you. he can pretend he’s got you sat in his lap, panties pulled to the side and chest bare to his disposal, so it’s not his fault when he can’t quite...keep quiet.

→ at the end of the day: iida cums harder than he ever has in his life, and ojiro wants to move floors.

→ and...iida’s keeping the panties. sorry, y/n.

𝐃𝐄𝐊𝐔.

→ down, down boy.

→ kacchan’s sick today. and usually that has izuku doing backflip after backflip because finally, he can see the chalkboard that’s usually blocked by kacchan’s big ass head (not that he’d ever say that aloud), but today? today is bad.

→ you’re all in ectoplasm’s class, which would be fine, but he had to pick you out of all people to write everyone’s answers to the homework on the chalkboard.

→ aka—izuku’s subjected to watching your tits, ass and thighs jiggle as you jump in attempt to reach the top of the board, and he is not okay.

→ he’s hard. very hard. and it wouldn’t be that difficult to just...

→ izuku hisses when he grinds his palm against his cock because it feels heavenly, and gods, this is rediculous—him, a third year, the next symbol of peace, and he’s palming himself in the middle of class because he can’t help himself.

→ the view is perfect though...

→ uraraka says something and it has you jumping, and izuku has to resist the urge flutter his eyes because the friction in his pants along with the view is just heavenly.

→ and...maybe izuku can get away with this. sure walking around with cum stained boxers might suck, but if he can jus—

“midoriya, what’s the answer to number ten?”

→ izuku jumps in such a way the heel of his palm digs into his cock perfectly and it has the greenette biting back a whimper, before izuku has to scramble though all his papers because he’s wholly and utterly unprepared.

“u-uh, number ten? um, w-well let’s um, lets see...uh fifteen! fifteen is the u-uh, answer to number—number ten.”

→ you giggle before returning your attention to the board. your skirt flutters and izuku swears he sees the red lace of your underwear, but the thought is enough to have him groaning under his breath.

→ gods. you’re going to be the death of him.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐔.

→ shinsou needs to stay far, far away from you.

→ he’s having borderline mineta-type thoughts—a statement absolutely no one wishes to say—and they’re about you, the new pro hero everyone’s been raving about. and goddamit, shinsou’s about to make himself go blind so he doesn’t have to look at you on literally every other billboard in musutafu. seriously, he’s going nuts.

→ so, (without explaining the whole story, obviously) shinsou goes to denki for help. because at the end of day, denki’s kind of a pro at these things right? not in the getting chicks department, persay, but you catch his drift—shinsou’s trying to forget, not chase.

→ ultimately: denki’s useless.

→ shinsou decides that he’ll just drink and forget. he’ll go home and pull out the whiskey in the cupboard he keep for special occasions, turns on reruns of his favorite show, and just forgets.

→ or he thought he would, until he accidentally presses on the remote and the tv switches to the news channel.

→ shinsou blinks and—oh look, you’re on the fucking news. of course.

→ but he doesn’t dare move to change the channel. he just sits there, tipsy, and watches you kick some semi-small time villains ass on tv.

→ you look good. good enough to make him want to...no. no, no, no—that’s not a good idea, a very no good one—

→ but the camera angle switches, and its a closeup that highlights your, um, curves, and it has shinsou saying fuck it, shuffling out his grey sweats until they’re mid-thigh and whipping out his cock in a flash. (because who the hell wears underwear inside the house?)

→ silently reassuring himself that this is fine and completely normal, that people probably do this all the time, before spitting in his palm and relaxing into the couch.

“fuck, princess...”

→ and when you ask him if he saw you on tv at the agency tomorrow, shinsou doesn’t quite know how to respond.

i was feeling very...um, italic-ly today, teehee. hope you enjoyed it!

— sun

[silversatoru]

Hi love! ❤️

Mkay so like.... Suguru walks in and finds out his gf has a cam acc- and just like straight up ruins her online

This has been on my mind all day but idfk how to write it

a/n: AHAH hey babe!!! this concept is 😌👌 so i hope i did you proud w this. also if ur really into the whole getting-ruined-online concept and you fuck w dabi may i recommended @katslutski ‘s smile for the camera series; it is one of my favs

getou suguru x f!reader

tags/warnings: masturbation, degradation, humiliation, dumbification, filming, facial, mild bondage, mild overstimulation

w/c: 1.4k

you rubbed your clit in rushed circles, projecting a cluster of fake high-pitched moans and arching your back for the camera. it really didn’t feel that great, but you were damn good at pretending it did — and the cash was flowing in as a result. 

you could see the notifications of donations and new patrons popping up on the side of your screen and you let a soft sigh of satisfaction leave your lips. these fuckers were so horny that they’d send you stacks of their income just to see you fondle your cunt — pigs.

between the blood rushing to your ears from your approaching orgasm and the soft music playing through you room you didn’t even notice the sound of your front door opening. you were completely unaware of your boyfriend’s presence in your home until he was standing in your bedroom doorway — a confused but amused expression across his face. 

“am i interrupting something?” he cocked an eyebrow at you. 

“suguru! i thought you were busy today, i-” you scrambled to explain yourself and grab a sheet from your bed to pull over your exposed body. 

“plans changed,” he shrugged and cut you off, entering your bedroom, “maybe you should start locking your front door when you’re doing shit like this”. 

you stared at him with horrified eyes, worried that he might break up with you for this kind of thing — he didn’t seem mad but he definitely wasn’t happy either. you quickly lunged for your laptop/camera set-up, attempting to end your livestream, but suguru moved quicker. he grasped your wrist in his strong fingers and looked at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. 

“leave it on, doll,” he purred at you, releasing your wrist and pushing you back towards the bed, “go ahead and finish the show for them”. 

completely stunned, you fell back onto your elbows and gave him a hesitant look. it’s not like you were embarrassed or anything— shit, you did this like every day, but you were severely confused by his reaction.

he nodded at the computer screen with hazy eyes, “they’re waiting. why are you so shy all of the sudden? you should be used to having an audience”. 

after a final moment of hesitation you leaned back, fingers returning down to your clit to resume where you’d left off. it was a little more awkward with suguru watching, but the way he was ordering you around was kind of hot, so your stiffness quickly faded.

and you knew your body well, what worked and what didn’t, so it was only a matter of minutes before you were rocking your hips into your hand and letting exaggerated whimpers slide between your teeth. the orgasm was mediocre at best, but you had to dress it up and wrap it in a bow for your precious patrons.

at some point during your little show suguru had rid himself of his clothing and was now climbing into the messy sheets with you. 

“let me see your hands,” he stated blankly, his fingers gripped around the belt that had been looped through his pants just a few minutes ago. 

“this is live you know,” you gave him a concerned look — you were confused but not opposed, holding your hands out behind your back.

“oh, i know,” he took care in gently wrapping your wrists together as tight as the belt would go and then helped you onto you knees.

the duskiness of his eyes filled you with a splendid mix of fear and excitement, but before you could even get a good look you were being shoved into the bed.

“put your face in the pillows, doll,” he ordered lazily as you faceplanted into one of the several pillows at the head of your bed.

his strong hands were quickly gripped around your hips, the tip of his rock-hard member brushing teasingly against your entrance. you were already practically dripping, the sticky liquids from your earlier orgasm still glistening around your edges. it made his access easy, his aching cock sliding with little effort.

“let’s show all of your fans how much of a dumb cock-whore you become when i’m inside you,” he thrusted using hard, firm strokes right from the start.

and of course he was absolutely right — you lost any inkling of a coherent thought once you were stuffed full with his length. you moaned, whimpered, and squirmed underneath him like the pathetic little cam girl you were. but with suguru, none of your performance was a façade — he truly knew how to make you melt under his touch. and melted and useless was exactly how he liked you, so he had every intention of fucking you dumb in front of your audience today.

and that’s exactly what he did. it was his own foul way of punishing you; turning you into a drooling cum-slut who had completely forgotten she was being broadcasted live. if you wanted to be a whore for a living, he’d show everyone just how much of a whore you were — but only for him. 

you’re not even sure how long it’s been — all you know is that you’re orgasming for the fourth time; or was it the fifth? sixth? you’d lost count somewhere along the way.

dull waves of pleasure racked through your body and sent quivers under your skin. you whined and wriggled, murmuring incoherent babbles as you rocked your hips back and forth on his cock to milk the most out of your climax.

“that’s five times, baby,” suguru’s voice sounded miles away, “my dick feels good inside you, doesn’t it?”

you thrashed your head up and down against the pillow, mumbling the word yes over and over as your body twitched from overstimulation. glistening mixtures of fluids were squelching out as he continued thrusting into your cunt, some dripping all the way down your legs.

and he didn’t let you take any breaks — nonstop fucking you even while your pussy was throbbing with sensitivity. the overstimulation was excruciating, and you were a complete mess of trembles and whimpers.

“so pitiful,” you heard a dark laugh rumble from his throat, “there’s thousands and thousands of people watching you be my disgusting little fuck-toy right now, and you’re just gonna keep taking it, aren’t you?”

you weren’t even sure what he was saying, honestly. your brain had short circuited a while ago, and you were just absent mindedly nodding your head and mumbling agreements to everything he said. the pillowcase beneath your head was nearly soaked in saliva now too, your feeble mouth hanging open while drool continued to seep from the corners of your lips. 

“i think i want you to finish me with your mouth, doll, how does that sound?” he slowed his pace, pushing lazy thrusts into your hips while you mindlessly nodded your head again. 

“pathetic little baby; you have no idea what i’m even saying to you right now, do you?” you heard suguru laughing from behind you; but all you could manage in response was a few scattered whimpers. 

he abruptly unsheathed himself from inside you, and strangled whines escaped your throat at his sudden absence. no! more, please, please, suguru please, you murmured with an embarrassing lack of control and your boyfriend couldn’t do anything but laugh at you in your shameful state.

“turn around and open those pretty lips,” he reached down and helped you to flip over before straddling your chest and pressing his hot, sticky member against your lips. 

you opened them graciously, too braindead to even notice the bitter taste of his precum mixed with your own fluids. he mouth-fucked you with obscene force, the walls of your throat painfully expanding every time he thrusted in. you choked and sputtered, drool leaking down your lips and all over your chin. 

when suguru’s own orgasm was right on the cusp he removed himself from your mouth and sprayed his seed all over your face. from your forehead to your chest you were coated in sticky globs of semen, and you sucked down the drips that made it into your mouth like they were liquid gold. 

“lets see how many of your precious viewers come back after this — now that they saw you disintegrate into the helpless little cum slut that you are, now that they know you’re mine”. 

[junisfics]

All This Time — Armin Arlert (2)

series masterlist

Pairing: Armin Arlert x Reader

Word Count: 5k

Series Summary: Reader messages her best friend Armin late one night while she's drunk and needy, but will she remember the things she said to him in the morning, and if she does... will she regret it?

Part Summary: The morning after isn’t what either of them would expect, but after Reader pushes Armin away… she asks him to come right back

Content: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut

Content Warnings: Sexual Content, Mentions of Masturbation, Implied Smut

Armin couldn’t sleep, he didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to lay conscious in your presence forever. So, for a while, he laid there, savoring the feeling of your warm body cuddled up next to him. He would smile to himself whenever you shifted around a little in your sleep just to nuzzle up closer to him, to toss and turn to lay your head on his chest.

He never wanted the morning to come.

He knew the moment that you wake you’d be asking questions. You’d be asking questions or you’d know exactly what happened and you’d kick him out of your bed. You’d be startled and confused and he’d have to explain to you that you were drunk and asked him to stay with you. But then you’d ask why you asked him to stay, and he’d need to explain to you that, while you were drunk, you went on a series of confessions and admissions.

When the sun had just begun to rise over the horizon, and your head was nestled into his shoulder, Armin finally allowed himself to close his eyes.

He didn’t dream. He didn’t get the chance to sleep long enough so his brain could enter that deep state of rest that would even allow him to. He only had feelings. Feelings of contentment, euphoria, nostalgia all washed over him after he closed his eyes.

He’s so in love. He’s in love with you. His heart aches every minute of the day for you, and for this brief passing moment that he has you in his arms, he’s going to pretend that you’re his. He’s going to wish on the morning sun that after this mess passes over that he’ll still have you, and he doesn’t even care if it’s as a friend. Because if Armin can still be the one you cry to at night, he would gladly be your friend over your lover.

He was so grateful as he slept, grateful that whenever he would get that glimpse of consciousness as he turned in the bed that he could still feel your body up against him. He would smile at the little sighs that would leave your lips as you stretched a little in your sleep or when you grabbed ahold of his shirt to anchor you closer.

But Armin wasn’t grateful when you woke.

You had found yourself with your right leg swung over his waist as he lays on his back, your right arm wrapping itself around his neck, and your face nestled into the crook under his jaw. You were laying on top of a chest you didn’t know who it belonged to.

You laid there for a moment, with your eyes wide and staring into the pale flushed skin of his neck as you so desperately try and recall who is in your bed and why they’re there. You were frozen… like you were scared to see who it was.

Finally, you grew the courage to lift your head slightly to peek at their face.

It was Armin. Armin.

Your best friend Armin, that you’ve been in love with for years on end was beneath you in your bed in a position that was far too intimate for you to consider that he had just stayed the night as a friend.

His lips were slightly parted as he breathed, his pretty eyelashes resting against his cheeks that were flushed a cute little shade of pink. His hair was all ruffled and messed, pushed out of his eyes so you could see his entire face. 

You weren’t disgusted by him being in your bed… my goodness, it was far from that. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest at the revelation and all of a sudden your body was growing hot and the sheets that remained draped over you were suffocating. 

At a second realization of ‘Oh my god, Armin’s in my bed’, you jerk your entire body away from him, scramble out of the bed and stumble to the floor just as he shoots upright in his wake. Your eyes were completely blown wide, your lips were pressed into a tight line and Armin could see your arms shaking at your sides. You looked mortified.

Armin lays with his arms behind him, resting on the heels of his hand as he looks to you with an equally incredulous expression.

“What — what are you doing in my bed?” You ask, voice just above a whisper. You’re too startled to speak any louder.

“You asked me to stay,” Armin says quickly, remaining still like he’s afraid you’ll be startled by any movement.

You take your eyes off him for a moment to scan them across the ground as you think over what could have possibly happened. They flit from side to side, jerking in their sockets as you look over the hardwood floor.

“Did — did we…?” You begin, your chest beginning to visibly heave as you suck in deep breaths. 

You don’t know whether you want him to answer that question with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. But some sick twisted part of you was aroused by the possibility that the answer could be ‘yes’.

“No! No — you — you were drunk, I didn’t — we didn’t.” He stammers, pulling the sheets off of him and cautiously getting off the bed.

As horrible as it sounds, Armin was relieved to see that you’d forgotten everything that happened. Although he would have to work to pull that confession out of you again, it was much better than you avoiding him out of embarrassment and regret.

But as you think over what he’s said to you in regards to the night’s events, it slowly comes back to you. It’s all blurry, and for a moment you think you could be mistaking it for a dream, but you can make out the brief image of him in your doorway, then between your legs as you sit on the kitchen counter, and then on top of you on your bed.

And then you remember the conversation that had gone along with it.

“I… I asked you to stay…” You murmur to yourself, bringing your head back up to him as he finally stands on the other side of the bed, “Oh my god.”

You bring one arm around your waist and one clasps over your mouth, and for a moment, Armin’s scared you’re going to be sick. But between your fingers, he can hear you whisper a series of expletives over and over.

“Fuck, fuck — you need to go. Fuck! Armin, I’m sorry.” You exclaim, voice wavering as you take your hand from your mouth to point at your bedroom door.

Armin’s heart sinks into his stomach as he realizes that you have remembered every last thing you’d said to him. Maybe he’s the one who’s going to be sick because the terrified and regretful look on your face as his stomach churning in all the wrong ways.

“Out! Now! Oh my God!” You shout, enunciating with another point to the door. Your voice begins to tremble and…

God, please don’t cry. Please don’t cry.

Armin shuts his mouth and clenches his jaw, keeping his eyes on you as he blindly crosses your room to get to your door. He swallows hard before pausing once he gets to the door.

“y/n —”

“Get out!” You cover your eyes with your spare hand as you feel tears beginning to prick your vision.

You’ve cried in front of Armin before, both happy and sad cries. But you’ve never cried because of him, or something you’ve done to him; and never out of frustration in front of him. And you didn’t want to start now.

Armin flinches at your volume and sheepishly exits your room. You follow him, but only to close the door behind him. You swear you could hear him gasp as it slams.

It hurts your heart to see him cowering away from you, and you add that to the things that cause the tears to finally flow over. Not only did you completely humiliate yourself in front of him last night, but you admit something to him you promised yourself you’d never admit… and on top of that, you had just yelled at him.

Fuck, you yelled at him. He didn’t deserve that.

He came over to your house in the middle of the night, worried about your wellbeing because you didn’t have the nerve to tell him you were just drunk. He babied you and cared for you while you were in his way the whole time, and even though it’s the bare minimum, he didn’t have sex with you even though you begged him to.

He was too good, he didn’t deserve that.

You rest your back to the door, sliding down it until your butt hits the floor as your breathing gets choked up and you threaten to audibly sob. You let out a noise of frustration as you cross your arms over your knees and shove your face into the crook of your right elbow.

You can hear your front door shut as he leaves and it only causes you to let out another shaky groan.

The energy towards crying and groaning does no help to the painful pressure that’s already building in your head. You can feel it ache behind your eyes, throbbing along with your heartbeat and sending jolts of sharp pain through your skull when you blink.

You felt disgusting. You were covered in sweat and tears and your fingers and lips were still sticky with remnants of alcohol. You could still taste it on your tongue; the food and the alcohol. But the medicinal taste of the vodka strongly outweighs the warming remains of the melted butter.

It’s like it was telling you that your mistakes outweighed Armin’s kindness.

You didn’t exactly know why you were crying, you only knew that it came from frustration. It was all just churning around in a pot of distress. It was a vile potion of embarrassment, regret, shame, and humiliation that was being force-fed to you as you sat there on the floor.

Even though you heard Armin’s own confession, you still were overwhelmed with regret. His words were still a little blurry, you were still trying to get a grasp on the weight of them.

I’ve always wanted you too.

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want any of it. You were satisfied with the friendship between the two of you, you never wanted it to change. It was platonic, emotionally intimate at times, but it was platonic. You were twin flames, and you didn’t want your internal desire to rip that away from you.

Being friends, best friends, with Armin was a healthy relationship. You could handle the occasional jealousy and lack of physical intimacy if it saved your friendship. You liked it that way. And now that the barriers were broken, and you had forced Armin to leave, you were terrified of losing him at the cost.

Keeping quiet about your romantic love for him was so easy when you had him in the palm of your hand and knew that he would never leave you, especially since you now know that he shared that feeling back. You both were content with the relationship you had. You both knew that neither of you was going anywhere.

It’s not that you planned to never tell him, you knew that you would eventually. But you were planning for years in the future, or maybe you were hoping to grow out of it. You would be able to sit down with him and bring it on easy, give yourself a choice in how you tell him.

But the premature and impulsive reveal of your truth had startled you and you pushed him away in the process.

So, in a way, you didn’t necessarily regret telling him… it was the way you did it.

And you weren’t the only one freaking out about the ways of your confession. Armin was an absolute mess.

In your mind, you were worried that he was taking your words as the truth, but Armin was doing the exact opposite. His thoughts were flying around like hummingbirds, wings flapping at hundreds of beats a minute. He was stuck between hitting the steering wheel out of frustration or just breaking down crying in his car.

Because in Armin’s head, you remembered exactly what you said and you had caught yourself in a lie. You had recognized that it was the alcohol talking and you didn’t mean a single thing you said; you only said it because you were lonely and needy. 

And then, you had also recalled the exact words he had said to you in response. The words that were full of honesty. You had remembered the way he said it and the way he had looked at you, and you had been disgusted by it.

In your drunken lies, he had revealed his truth.

And you were regretful of your alcohol-fueled words because they led him to speak on his true desire.

Now, in his head, you were repulsed by him.

He hits the steering wheel hard, hard enough so that he’s gripping his fist with his other hand and gritting his teeth at the pain that shoots through his arm afterward. And then those tears swell in his eyes, stinging them and blurring his vision as he tries to blink them away.

He’s sucking in breaths through his teeth as he finally pulls out of your complex lot. He wipes at his eyes as he drives home as if he believes he’s not actually crying if the tears don’t fall down his cheeks.

You both were embarrassed; at what you did and what you’re doing. Both of you sniffling pathetically as you keep replaying this morning in your heads. Both of you hating yourselves; you for yelling at Armin, and Armin for what he thinks your yelling was for.

You sat on the floor for a while, eventually bringing your legs away from your chest to cross them under each other. You still sat with your head in your hands and your elbows resting on your knees as you steady your breathing before trying to continue with your day.

You wipe at your face in hopes to push the tears away, but you only spread your flaking mascara around and mix it with the sweat and oil that’s accumulated on your face. It was a gross feeling, and it was the thing that finally convinced you to get up.

Water joined your tears in wetting your face as you splash it on from the tap of your bathroom sink. You scrub a little too hard after you rub your face wash in, almost scratching at your skin to get last night’s both physical and mental remnants off your face and out of your head. The water refreshes your skin as you do a final splash to get the suds off, but it does no help to your headache. It only throbs in your head harder from leaning over the sink.

As you lift your head from spitting toothpaste into the drain, another wave of throbbing pain pulses behind your eyes. And as you stare into the mirror, you decide to prioritize getting pain medicine before continuing to refresh yourself. The cup Armin had got for you last night was still sitting on the floor at the base of the bed, and as you pick it up you let out an audible, melancholic sigh. You watch the remainder of the water swish around at the bottom of the cup as you make your way to the kitchen.

You find the pain medicine already sitting on the counter. You bite at the inside of your cheek upon the realization that he most likely placed it there last night insight of the morning. 

You hate him, hate him for the way he cares for you and the way he’s so goddamn selfless. Everything about him had your heart twisting in on itself and chest tightening to where you couldn’t breathe.

That only started a few years ago, junior year of high school. You still vividly remember looking into his deep blue eyes, getting lost in their ocean as you hold his sweet face in your hands. It was after your high school had sent out emails regarding the college admission process. Both of you were unsettled with the idea of leaving.

Armin promised you, over and over, that he’d call and visit and drive to however far you go whenever you need it. And then you had grabbed his face in your hands and said to him, ‘now, don’t go replacing me’. That made him giggle a little, his cheeks heating up under your palms before he said

‘I wouldn’t dare’

That was it for you. And after he had gone home you had sat on your bed… just sitting there, wondering why your heart was feeling the way it did.

It’s been like that since. Every last time you saw him it made your whole soul ache. You fell in love with him; his voice, his touch, his mind. You were absolutely drowning in his ocean and he was holding your head underwater, but all this time you were doing the same to him.

You didn’t make breakfast. The state of the kitchen from your drunken antics was a turn-off, and the alcohol that was still swimming around in your stomach had you feeling a little too nauseous for food just yet.

Deciding to clean up the kitchen was probably the safest option for you right now. You were debating between doing as so, or returning to bed and sleeping the day away. But since Armin still lingered within your sheets, kitchen chores were decided on as you already began to shuffle away measuring spoons to their respective drawers.

As you cleaned, you allowed yourself to think forward, accepting the situation and moving on to figuring out how to deal with it. You haven’t checked your phone to see if Armin had messaged you, but you bet your chances that he hasn’t. You probably scared him, for God’s sake.

The guilt and denial were still simmering as the acceptance was poured into the pot. You knew you needed to apologize for a multitude of things that have occurred within the past twelve-ish hours, starting with the fact that you called him in the middle of the night in the first place. Armin already knows you’re sorry, he can read you like a book, but you need to say it to him. You need to call him or something.

You were at a crossroads once more; did you allow the tension to settle a little while longer, or do you apologize as soon as possible? You had to apologize before he did, because you know damn well he will eventually, even though this situation that wasn’t his fault.

When the bowl with the dry baking goods clashes with the counter and clatters to the floor, spilling its contents all around your feet, you get your answer for you. In an overflow of emotions and frustrated curses, you leave the mess on the floor and blindly search through the house for your phone. When it’s found, you call him again, sniffling and letting yourself cry in defeat.

Armin got your call not even an hour after he had arrived home. He’d ignored his grandparents as they welcomed him home, even though he knew he would regret it later, and dragged himself straight up the stairs to his bedroom to just take a seat on the edge of his bed. He had his head in his hands, heels of his palms pressing into his temples.

And he just sat. Armin sat with his teeth piercing his bottom lip and his mind telling him that he’s never going to be able to be with you the way he was before.

He looked at his phone for a few moments, watching it buzz, face-up on his nightstand. It took him a few moments to register that it was you calling him and not a spam number.

He couldn’t stop himself from picking up.

‘Armin? Armin, I’m sorry — I’m sorry for yelling, just please — please come back,’

It was safe to assume that you were crying. He could hear your hiccuping and sniffling through the phone. All sort of self-respect he had gone out the door once he heard your distress. As much as you hated him for being so kind, he hated you for having him wrapped around your finger.

“What happened?” He asks.

‘I — I need to talk to you and I spilled — spilled shit all over the kitchen. I’m just so fucking — God, Armin I’m sorry!’

The lack of communication was truly hindering both of you severely. Both of your executions were fucked and both of your receptions were equally so because of poor wording. Now, Armin didn’t know what you were mad at and you didn’t know if he was upset in return.

“Can I come help?” He says, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible.

‘Please,’ You beg, and he can still you rustling around on the other end.

Armin relaxes, but only a little, because at least he knew you weren’t mad at him. Or maybe you were, but your own guilt was outweighing it. He had a feeling you were reflecting your self-frustration onto him, he always has a feeling. He knows you too well not to.

It was almost funny how you greet him at the door you had just recently slammed in his face. You had tears running down your cheeks and you were sniffling and coughing as you tried to sputter out a string of explanations. For a moment, Armin could only stand there and watch; watch you speak nonsense while gesturing with your hands.

After a minute or so, Armin realizes that you’ve stopped. He couldn’t make out a single thing you had said, only getting an ear of something that sounded like an apology. But no matter what you had said to him, he outstretches his arms to pull your shaking body against him. And as he holds you close, as your arms wrap around his torso, you can’t stop another wave of tears that drip down your cheeks.

Armin just holds you, like he did last night when he was in your bed. Your head on his shoulder, nose nuzzling into the crook of his jaw, and hands grabbing at the fabric at the back of his tee-shirt.

“I’m sorry,” He says softly, “I didn’t mean to — mean to scare you or — or anything,”

His attempt to comfort you only crumbles you down more because he didn’t need to apologize, he doesn’t have to apologize.

“No, no, no Armin,” You stutter, pushing at his chest to distance yourself enough to look at his face. He lets his hands fall to your waist, keeping a tight enough grip on you to not let you escape. You look up to him for a moment before looking down to his chest, hitting against it softly out of frustration, “Don't — don’t apologize. You don’t need to apologize,”

“I want to,” He tilts his head down slightly.

“Don’t! Please. This — this is my fault. I never — I never meant for this to happen. I just wanted to see you last night. I wanted to see you because I love you. I love you, like, more than I should, and I didn’t mean to tell you last night. I’m sorry, God, I’m so sorry,” You grab at his shirt again, tugging on it and stretching it out.

“y/n —” He begins.

“And I scared myself because — because I didn’t mean to say it then and — and I didn’t think you were going to say it back. I just — I don’t know,” You take in a shaky exhale before letting it out.

Armin feels like he can breathe again. You were sincere last night, you were telling the truth, and you weren’t disgusted with him. Armin could breathe again because he knew the feeling was mutual.

You let yourself bring your cheek back to his chest, bending your elbows to bring yourself close to him. Armin lets his arms slide around your waist, pulling you against him again to hopefully convey that ‘this is okay’

“I embarrassed myself… and I yelled at you because of it and — and you don’t deserve that.” You mumble a little softer, into the soft skin of his neck.

You can feel his chest shift around beneath your cheek as he breathes, and you can hear his heart beating quickly but steadily under your ear. You don’t want to leave him this time, you don’t want to jerk away from his touch. But you’re also scared of what will happen when you do have to pull away from him.

So you let yourself stay like this for a while, and Armin doesn’t protest. He continues to caress the skin of your back through that skimpy tanktop you’re still wearing and rests his cheek against the top of your head. He could stay like this forever, the same way he could have when he was in your bed last night.

“I meant what I said,” Armin says, stilling his hands until only his thumb gently circles over your shirt, “That I’ve always… wanted you — and loved you,”

With your body still pressed against him you say, “All this time… it — it was always you. I just didn’t know how to say it and I didn’t want to scare you away,”

“You could never,”

“And I was worried about what would happen after I told you. I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t feel the same way. I couldn’t lose this.” Your voice has shrunk down to an almost whisper, and you’ve shut your eye and let yourself sink deeper into his skin.

“God, y/n,” Armin can’t stop the breathy laugh that leaves his lips, “You — you have no idea,” He pushes on your shoulders gently to look at your face.

“Why are you laughing?” You look up to him, a little confused and concerned look on your face.

“I’m not. I just — you have no fucking idea how — how crazy I am for you,” Armin grabs ahold of your face hard enough so your cheeks get smushed slightly beneath his palms. Your own hands come up to his forearms, just grazing them.

“I don’t know how you didn’t see it,” He whispers, looking into your wide eyes with admiration.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest and you hope that Armin can feel your cheeks heat up beneath his hands. He was so close, he was right there, he was looking down to you with his nose an inch away from yours.

“Do you — do you remember what I said last night?” You breathe, leaning forward ever so slightly.

God, how could he forget?

“Which… which part?” Armin could barely think. You were rising on your toes, your breath fanning over his lips. He could feel your body trembling as you brought yourself closer to him.

“When I said that I want you,” You mumble, looking to his lips for a brief moment. Armin catches the flit of your eyes and he can feel his stomach twist, “that I need you,”

“Yeah,” Armin can’t stop his voice from shaking, “What — what do you need from me?”

And he knows the answer, he knows the answer, he just needs to hear you say it. He needs to hear your sweet voice speak words so lewd that he’ll feel like his knees have turned to jelly. 

“I want you to fuck me, just like you promised. I’m sober this time, I slept it off.” Your breathing is so shaky, your voice is all strained to the point where it could pass for a whimper.

Armin can feel your words flow straight south, swimming below his navel and hardening his cock. He looks over you, over your face and your body that’s still exposed by your revealing clothes. He wants to tear them off.

“We can talk more later. I need you, so bad.” You bring your hands to his chest again, taking the stretched fabric in your fingers and tugging him closer.

“Yeah?” Armin nods in confirmation, he would tease you if he had the courage to.

“Yeah,” You nod, biting down on your bottom lip. You rise on your toes again, bringing your body flush against his. You can feel his cock hard in his sweats against your stomach, can feel his chest rising and falling quickly.

“Can — can I have you, please.” You slide one hand down his chest, shivering at the way the lean muscles in his abdomen divet under your fingertips. When you reach his waistband, you stop, toying with the strings with your right hand.

Armin answers you by grabbing ahold of the back of your neck and bringing your lips to his. They’re soft and warm, and they make your insides go all fuzzy and you practically whimper at the sensation. Your legs were already shaking due to the close proximity but now you’re deathly afraid of your knees buckling.

He felt so right up against you, with his hands holding you close and his tongue licking at the seam of your lips. He had you melting so quickly that you cannot believe you forced yourself to wait this long to tell him.

Even though your body was all tense, something inside you relaxed. Armin was here with you, he wasn’t leaving.

[talesofstyles]

Good Morning Indeed

absolutely no plot whatsoever, just a bit of husband and dad harry in the midst of the family’s morning chaos 😂

Harry

“Go get the condom on.”

“I’ll pull out, I promise.”

“Your pull out game is weak.”

“Oi, them’s fightin’ words.”

“There’s a reason we’ve got six kids.” Says the missus with a roll of those pretty—but sometimes deadly (please don’t tell her I said this)—eyes. “‘Sides, I’ve just changed the sheets yesterday. You are not coming on the sodding sheets.”

“Fine,” I sigh and reach down to the bedside table. Why is the drawer filled with sodding Duplo and those tiny, pricey Sylvanian Family bunnies? I’m guessing kid number two, three and four have something to do with that. A few more seconds of rummaging before I finally found my treasure in the very back of the drawer. I lay on my back as I sheath myself up, and seeing as I’m already here… might as well, right? I smirk at her as I say, “hop on then.”

“Fat chance that,” she mutters. “Do I have to take off my top?”

“Nah,” I shake my head, it’s cold, and I’m a considerate husband. “A flash will do. Just give me a visual.”

She rolls up my shirt that she wears to sleep, a really old white rolling stones t-shirt that has two holes and a loose thread hanging on for dear life from the hem. She looks homeless. Gorgeous homeless though. 

“Nice,” I flash her a boyish grin, like a teenage boy seeing his first pair of tits. “You’ve got great racks.”

“You’re just saying that…”

I know what she sees when she looks at herself in the mirror and I wish she could look at herself through my eyes. 

“Hey, don’t you dare. My babies grew in that body, that’s everything.”

Her tender smile hits me right in the gut. “I love you.”

“Love me enough to ride me?” I say with a playful flick to one nipple.

“Nice try.”

“I love you,” I mutter near her mouth and give her a searing kiss. I run my tongue over her bottom lip, then I kiss her down her neck, her cleavage and her breasts. I slowly circle one nipple, and she giggles, knowing it’s a well-rehearsed move that is guaranteed to do what’s needed. See, her tits are kind of like start buttons. No matter the situation, a little attention to those bad boys switches things around real quick. Her head slams back against the pillow. And she moans, holding my head in place.

We’ve got ignition lads. 

I nestle my body on top of hers, and there’s a bit of wayward angling and poking until I find my way inside of her. And then it’s on. Two bodies writhing on the bed. My hips rotate in long, slow circles.

“Bollocks!”

“What? The condom isn’t broken, is it?”

“No, it’s bin day. I forgot to take out the recycling bin.”

“S’fine, we’ve got time before the school run.”

The bin’s sorted, back to the shag…

I slide my hands under her, bringing us closer. Rocking us faster. My forehead hovers close to hers and I open my eyes so I can watch. What can I say? I’m greedy like that. I want to soak up every gasp, every flicker of pleasure across her face. Pleasure I’m giving her.

Her breathing changes. It turns panting and desperate, and I know she’s close. I move harder, grinding against her, inside her, with every forward push. Warms sparks tickle my spine and heat spreads down until every nerve in my body is shaking. I slam inside her, burying deep as her hips jerk upward. She spasms hard around me, gripping me tight. 

I rock back my hips and pull almost all the way out, but then I freeze. Because a dreaded sound echoes across the room, grabbing our full attention. It’s coming from the baby monitor. It’s a rustling, the sound of cotton rubbing cotton. Like snipers in the jungle, we don’t move a muscle. We don’t say a word. We wait, until the rustling stops. And all is quiet again. 

Too bad it’s not for long. Because two thrusts in, a light comes on in the landing. Followed by small footsteps heading down the stairs. Shit.

“Harry, just come already. They’ll all be up soon.”

“I’m close… don’t rush it, you’re scaring it away.” 

She grinds her hips. Also another well-rehearsed move that she knows will get me off. But I freeze again, because there’s a second set of footsteps and the sound of a toilet flushing. Oh, and the babies next door are starting to whimper. 

Great.

“I’M HUNGRY!” That’s James, darling little cockblocker number four who likes to be fed on time. He’s three.

“WE’LL BE OUT IN A SECOND!” My wife shouts over my shoulder. “Harry for the love of god-”

I pick up the rhythm. Small beads of sweat form on my brow. She grinds her hips again, and I try to focus. “Just like that, fuck, keep doing that.”

“Sshh, keep your voice down.”

“IS THERE ANY BREAD THAT ISN’T 50/50?” That’s Eleanor, child number two. She’s seven, and she’s one of those children who seem to possess a discernible palate that knows when we’ve changed brands of baked beans or attempt to bring sugar-free fruit squash through the doors.

“IT’S THE SAME,” I reply.

“NO, IT’S NOT. DO WE HAVE OTHER FOOD?”

“THERE ARE SHREDDIES.”

“DON’T LIKE ‘EM.”

“PORRIDGE.”

“I’M NOT A BEAR!”

Honestly, seven-year-olds gunning for a fight this early in the morning can go do one.

The babies are starting to gather volume next door so I try to focus again. It only takes a few more thrusts before ecstasy wrecks my body, making me shudder. I press my lips against her neck as I come back down to earth. But I don’t move yet. I know we should get going because things are already chaotic outside our door, but I just don’t have the will yet. I’m considering going back to sleep for a minute or two. She won’t mind, will she? Well, I’m wrong. Because she proceeds to perform the move that seems to amuse every sodding woman on earth. And causes every man to squeal like a bloody pig. Without warning, she uses her powerful muscle to squeeze my extremely sensitive cock. 

Girls, grab a piece of paper and write this down. I’m speaking on behalf of every man to walk on earth here; we hate that. We don’t think it’s funny.

I jerk back, pull out, and roll off her. I try to look annoyed as she giggles, and obviously I fail, because that freshly fucked, flushed-face makes it impossible not to grin back.

“CAN I HAVE JAFFA CAKE?” That’s Victoria, child number three. She’s five, and she’s yelling as she thunders up the stairs. 

“JAFFA CAKE ISN’T BREAKFAST,” my wife shouts back as she sits up and hands me a nappy sack. “Harry…”

I wrap up the condom with it and toss it to the bin. “You’ve just taken me life force, woman, give me a moment.”

“CUSTARD CREAM?”

“NO.” We shout in unison. 

“HOBNOB THEN?”

“STAY AWAY FROM THE BISCUIT TIN!”

“You want to wrestle a biscuit-hunting kid out of a cupboard and 50/50 bread drama or fussy babies with full nappies?”

“Babies.” I hear a small child get whacked by a sibling downstairs and I feel like I may have got the better deal here.

Next door, the twins are not happy. They’re six months old now, and they’re both teething. Thing one glares at me as I walk into their nursery and thing two stares at me stroppily from the corner of her cot. Their cheeks are scarlet, and thing one proceeds to bark at me like a seal. I pick his warm, sleepy, cuddly body and cradle it close to mine as I lay him down on the changing table. I smell the dampness. It’s definitely wee. He’s soaked through, I think I didn’t tuck his willy in when I last changed him around three in the morning so it sprayed in some upward motion and drenched his clothes. See, this is why girls are better than boys. There’s no way they can pee upwards. 

After I put a fresh nappy and a change of clothes, I put him down on the rug so he can wiggle around while I grab his sister and sort her out. After six kids, I’m definitely a pro with baby duty and can practically change their clothes one-handed. The whole thing takes only a few minutes.

I cuddle the babies on each side as I walk downstairs and into the kitchen. They immediately reach out to their mum who’s cracking some eggs as soon as they spot her, knowing she’s the only one who can cure their hunger this morning. 

“Uniforms!” She says to the big kids as she takes one baby into her arms. “We’ll do breakfast after. Please, please, please…”

Desperate pleas lead them to saunter out and up the stairs. I follow my wife into the living room and hand her the other baby as she plops down on the couch. She rolls up her shirt and the babies latch instantly. Tandem nursing is harder now that they’re a little older and aware of their surroundings. They’re trying to scratch each other’s faces as they nurse. “Oi, what’s this? You each get a tit, stop fighting.”

They seem to somehow listen to me and have stopped trying to poke each other’s eyeballs. We’ll see how long that lasts. “Finish the eggs?”

I nod. “I’m on it.”

I brew some coffee, finish the scrambled eggs, and pop the slices after slices of bread in the toaster. Breakfast is done just in time as my wife walks back into the kitchen with two full and happy babies. She puts them in their high chairs and I scoop a bit of eggs on each of their trays for them to nibble on.

George appears back in the kitchen clad in his uniform with his also dressed brother trailing behind. We always lay his clothes the night before on his bed and he gets dressed all by himself in the morning. And he’s getting better at it, seeing he only missed a button on his shirt.

“Hi mate,” I say as I fix his button and he flashes a toothy grin at me. I plop him down on the chair, he’s graduated from the high chair now but still uses a booster seat.

“No toast!”

“What do you want then?”

“Chee-yos?”

I nod before I grab a handful of cheerios and set them on his plate next to his eggs. Then I take a few steps back across the table. “Hey, James, set it up.”

He flashes me another toothy grin before he opens his mouth wide and keeps it open. I hold a single Cheerio between my fingers while I bend my knees and bounce my hand as if I were dribbling a basketball. “Three seconds left on the clock, down by one. Styles got the ball. He fakes left, he drives in, he shoots…”

I toss the Cheerios in a high arc. It lands right into his mouth.

“He scores! The crowd goes wild!”

James holds both hands over his head. “Core!”

“Viv stole the biscuit tin, you know? She ate three jammie dodgers upstairs.” Eleanor says as she walks in with book bags and school shoes. 

George, seeing his sister walks in, proceeds to open his mouth wide and flashes her the half-chewed eggs on his tongue. It’s his current thing and it annoys his sisters to death. The young’uns think differently though as they double over in laughter. 

“Eeewww!” She shrieks. “You’re so gross!”

“VICTORIA, PUT THAT BISCUIT TIN DOWN AND GET YOUR BUTT IN THE KITCHEN! AND GO GET THEM HAIR TIE THINGIES…” 

“I didn’t have any biscuits!” She yells and runs down the stairs.

This kid is the quintessential daddy’s girl. She climbs up onto my lap right away, handing me the brush and a hair tie. 

“See, poppet, I would’ve believed you if you didn’t leave evidence all over your face,” I arch one of my eyebrows as I sweep a speck of raspberry jam on the corner of her mouth. 

“You always do a ponytail,” she huffs.

“Either that or I give you a bowl cut with kitchen scissors. I reckon that fruit bowl will do. Your choice.”

“Can I have some more eggs?” George asks with his mouth full of his last bite.

“God, that’s like your third serving,” Eleanor grumbles.

“Nag.”

At that insult, Eleanor flings a piece of toast like a ninja. Before George can retaliate, my wife gives them both the look.

“Viv, will you at least have some eggs?”

“No.”

“Fine,” my wife sighs. “I’m gonna get changed then.”

I glance at the clock and, well, shit, I should get dressed too. “Can you lot watch the babies and try not to kill each other for the next five minutes?”

“Five quid each?” Eleanor tries to negotiate. “Babysitting isn’t supposed to be free, you know? That sounds like child labour to me.” 

Bollocks. 

“Two quid each,” I give her my dad look that says the offer is final and indisputable.

“Deal.”

[vrishchikawrites]

You know what would be interesting?

JC never lost his golden Core.

And Wei Wuxian did not lose his.

But he still gets dropped into the Burial Mounds. And like I dunno how, but he comes out of there having mastered the new form of cultivation.

Jiang Cheng acts like a dick that's par for cannon. And this Wei Wuxian who has survived the burial Mounds with his golden core intact has no time for his drama.

He definitely confesses to Lan Wangji o ce he is out of the burial mounds.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji in the Sunshot campain would be brilliant. Cultivating and * *wink wink nudge nudge* * dual cultivating.

JC is seething with jelousy. He has everything. The gentry name, the money and sect leadership but the whole world is only speaking about Wei Wuxian and his like awesome cultivation. Both the sword style and with his flute.

Wen Qing and Wen Ning- Wen Ning convinces his sister to join the war. Wen Ning wants to be on Wei Wuxian's side.

What would JC throw a tantrum over if he doesn't have anything to throw a tantrum over??

Like for example he blames Wei Wuxian for Lotus Pier burning. Obviously it's not his mistake. But one day he is yelling at Wei Wuxian about it and sect leader someone maybe XiChen, maybe Sect leader Nie. Whoever. Comes and like defends Wei Wuxian.

What would he do then faced with the facts? Cling all the more to his warped world view? Or apologize?

It will be interesting to see.

You don't have to take this prompt if it's too messy or whatever. I love you and your writing.

Also, thank you for choosing to write my previous prompt.

XOXO.

(this is a little similar to trapped and patient but also quite different. Hope you like it! The format is a bit different because this is a lot of time to cover in a short prompt)

When he stumbles out of the Burial Mounds, Wei Wuxian is stunned. He can't believe he made it, that he was able to survive it, without his sword.

Wei Wuxian walks forward shakily, one unsteady step at a time, putting distance between him and that wretched place.

He feels weak, drained, devastated in small ways.

But he is free.

---

Yiling offers shelter in unexpected ways. He's able to hide in a temple to recover. His condition is wretched enough that he's mistaken for a beggar. A few people take pity on him and offer fruits and buns.

It takes him a week.

That's all it takes for him to recover.

Wei Wuxian washes all traces of Burial Mounds off him, soaks in icy river water for hours on end until he feels purified and reforged.

Now, he's ready for revenge.

---

Wei Wuxian has only tried his cultivation method on the dead. He has used it to repel the fierce corpses, fierce ghosts, and spirits soaked in resentment.

When he tests the method on the Wens, it proves to be even more effective. They scramble like mindless beasts, driven by fear and confusion. The sounds of his Dizi pierce the air and induce madness.

He watches from a distance, indifferent as the Wens turn on each other, swinging their swords, shouting at phantoms, all sense and intellect gone.

He turns away.

---

Jiang Cheng's arms wrap around him and the fog around his mind starts to slowly recede. He stands stiffly, blinking a little before looking beyond his martial brother.

Lan Zhan is there, staring at him with wide eyes. There's so much open concern on his usually stoic face that Wei Wuxian wants to turn away.

"Wei Ying,"

It is only then, under the power of that golden gaze, that his fugue state dissipates. He sees Lan Zhan step forward, almost reaching out only to pull back at the last moment.

Jiang Cheng pushes him away and punches his shoulder, "Where have you been? How dare you abandon us and just frolic off somewhere?"

Wei Wuxian swalllows with difficulty and answers their questions with his habitual dismissive charm.

But that honest expression of open concern on Lan Zhan's beautiful face doesn't leave.

He meets those golden eyes and feels something shift within him.

Shaking his head, he dismisses the feeling. There's no time for sentimental reunions. He turns his attention towards Wen Chao, unsheathes his sword, and kills him in one clean strike.

There. Done.

---

The war is already in full swing by the time he joins it. His martial brother and Lan Zhan are quick to take him to Qinghe, not even letting him ride his own sword.

"Wei-gongzi, I'm happy to see you safe," Lan Xichen greets, running a discreet eye over him. The older Lan brother's concern is well hidden but Wei Wuxian senses it nevertheless.

The man looks like he's just about ready to banish him to the healing halls.

He opens his mouth to reassure Lan Xichen but Nie Mingjue intervenes, slapping his back solidly, "I hear you're responsible for the devastation at Yiling. Good work!"

Wei Wuxian smiles brightly, hoping to banish that increasingly familiar look from Lan Zhan's face. "Thank you, Nie-zongzhu." He smiles up at the man, "I can give you a full report of what happened if you wish it."

The Chifeng-zun's expression shifts into one of approval and he nods, "I do wish it."

"I would like to know as well, if you don't mind," Lan Xichen says and Nie Mingjue nods before he glances at Lan Zhan.

He chuckles, "Lan er-gonzi can join us as well."

---

Wei Wuxian doesn't realize he's been spending more time with the Lan brothers and Nie Mingjue until Jiang Cheng angrily points it out.

"You're too good for us, are you?" He demands, "Abandoning us in favor of your new friends! Even in the battlefield, you and Lan Wangji are inseparable! Have some shame! How dare you abandon your responsibilities and mess around with that man?"

"a-Cheng," Shijie reprimands gently but her voice is weak.

"Aiya, Jiang Cheng, who keeps track of such things amidst a war? They're all our allies. It's not like I have abandoned everyone." He still trains with the Jiang disciples and leads them in battle after all.

"Wei Wuxian!"

"Jiang Cheng," His voice makes his irritation clear, "Is this really the right time to worry about such trivial matters? Who cares about appearances during war? Are were not all one when on the battlefield?" He asks, narrowing his eyes on the furious Jiang, "We don't know whether we'll live or die when we ride out and you're concerned about who fights alongside me? Just who are you speaking of?"

"Who I am speaking of?" Jiang Cheng snaps in return, "Your obsession with that man is unseemly and reflects poorly on the sect! You know it and yet you carry on shamelessly-"

"My obsession?" He demands, "Just what are you trying to imply, Jiang Cheng? You're going to be a brat just because Lan Zhan happens to be the only one able to keep up with me?" It is no secret that his three month stint sharpened his cultivation in ways people find hard to fathom. He didn’t just develop a new cultivation method, he grew. Surviving the Burial Mounds is a feet beyond the skill and endurance of most cultivators. 

Wei Wuxian has earned his already formidable reputation.

Jiang Cheng reels back at the reminder, his face twisting with rage.

Never let it be said that Wei Wuxian takes things lying down. He has spent a lifetime appeasing Jiang Cheng and dealing with his insecurities.

He no longer has the patience.

---

He reaches out instinctively, pulling Lan Zhan out of a blade's path, spinning around to block the strike with his bare arm.

His thick leather brace manages to minimize the damage and he doesn't lose his arm but it is a near thing.

With a hiss, he crowds against Lan Zhan and brings Suibian down in a sharp slash, cutting the Wen before him from left shoulder to right hip.

"Reckless." Lan Zhan says later as he carefully stitches the cut.

"I couldn't let you get hurt." Wei Wuxian says softly, peering down at the kneeling figure before him. He has seen Lan Zhan in various states of indignity, covered in blood, robes soaked in the disgusting sludge of a war-torn field.

Nothing diminishes his beauty.

Wei Wuxian's heart races, his head spinning as he smells the scent of sandalwood. He swallows as Lan Zhan shifts closer, carefully snipping the excess thread and studying his neat stitches.

This close, he feels overwhelmed and realization dawns.

"I love you," He breathes, stunned.

He loves Lan Zhan. The knowledge strikes him now, suddenly, without warning. "How did I not know?" Wei Wuxian feels strangely dazed. How could he not know? It is so obvious to him, his constant need for Lan Zhan's attention, "I hate it when you ignore me." The feeling of those snapping golden eyes on him when he finally manages to gain Lan Zhan's attention, "It's thrilling when you don't."

He has never met anyone more beautiful, "I find you better looking than any maiden." Lan Zhan's proximity now makes him feel-, "Breathless," He says, "When I'm close to you I feel- how did I miss-"

Lan Zhan grip is like vice around his wrist.

Wei Wuxian stops, going pale as he realizes how brazenly he had just confessed love to a man. If Jiang Cheng were here, he'd definitely gut him with Sandu, "Lan Zhan, I-"

Lan Zhan surges forward, eyes blazing and expression dark.

Warm lips slide over his and his mind goes silent.

He doesn't think a single thought that night.

---

War doesn't wait for anyone and Wei Wuxian doesn't say anything in protest when Lan Zhan pulls away from him. He watches with heavy eyes as Lan Zhan shrugs on his discarded outer robes and glances at him.

"Is your body alright?" He asks and Wei Wuxian feels a blush crawl up his neck.

“No! Of course it isn’t,“ He complains even though his body is buzzing with lingering pleasure. He pouts up at Lan Zhan, who studies him with careful golden eyes, “Really, going on and on, taking your pleasure without any care for my virgin body.“ Lan Zhan’s ears are delightfully red, “Who knew er-gege could be so bold?“

“Wei Ying,“ Lan Zhan’s expression is flat but his voice carries a hint of a waver. Wei Wuxian just grins in response, “Be serious.“

In all honesty, his body is already back to its regular state of being. His Golden Core is still spinning furiously and the lingering energy from Dual Cultivation has healed any aches and pains he might have. 

“Fine,“ He says in a petulant tune, inwardly delighted that Lan Zhan is now his, “But er-gege must kiss me to make me feel better.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t hesitate, leaning over him and gently tipping his chin up for the demanded kiss. 

Wei Wuxian sighs, sinking into it as a curtain of silken black hair forms a private cocoon around him. 

---

The war ends but Wei Wuxian’s problems don’t end with it. Three issues stand before him; helping the Wen remnants, helping rebuild YunmengJiang, and figuring out how to marry Lan Zhan. 

One obstacle stands in the way of two of these three goals. Jiang Cheng absolutely refuses to lift a finger to help the Wen remnants, even though Wen Qing’s assistance helped them win the war. Jin Guangyao may have killed Wen Ruohan but Wen Qing prevented thousands of casualties.

Wen Ning was also responsible for rescuing Jiang Cheng from the Wen capture before he lost his Golden Core. It was fortunate that Wen Zhuliu had been called to visit Wen Ruohan and Wen Chao had to wait to enact that punishment. 

Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian managed to steal Jiang Cheng away just hours before Wen Zhuliu returned.

And yet, Jiang Cheng chooses to side with the Jins on the matter instead of listening to Lan Xichen or Nie Mingjue. Wei Wuxian knows it is partly because their sister is marrying into the Jin clan and they can’t afford to make things difficult for her, but still.

Jin Zixuan will obviously protect shijie. There’s no need to be so cautious, especially if three out of four sects oppose imposing any sort of punishment on innocent people. 

On a personal front, Jiang Cheng’s disapproval of his relationship with Lan Zhan is blatant.

Jiang Cheng can’t really stop Wei Wuxian from marrying whoever he wishes. He doens’t need the sect leader’s permission as he’s not really the member of the family. But his shidi is making things difficult with his sneering disapproval and contemptuous comments in public.  

He has already alienated Lan Xichen completely by calling Lan Zhan’s honor in question (boy did he earn the punch Wei Wuxian had leveled at him - sect leader or no). Nie Mingjue will never side with some upstart over Lan Xichen. 

Lan Zhan himself doesn’t care. He has never liked Jiang Cheng and he never will. He only retaliates when Jiang Cheng tries to attack Wei Wuxian. 

His protective er-gege as no tolerance for anyone trying to harm him.

Which is what, ultimately, breaks Wei Wuxian’s ties with YunmengJiang. 

The confrontation is embarrassingly public. He doesn’t mind Lan Xichen or Nie Mingjue being present but feels upset about Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao being there as well. 

“Twin Prides of Yungmeng, isn’t that what you promised me?“ Jiang Cheng demands, “Where will your pride be if you break all of your promises and get into...” He waves his hand at Lan Zhan in disgust, “Is this how you intend to repay us? My father raised you to be the Head Disciple of the Jiang Sect and you would rather be some sort of deviant?“

“Jiang Cheng-“

“And you would side with the Wen dogs too! Was this always your intention? Did you always want to bring down my sect and support its enemies?” 

“The Wen remnants have helped us. They’re not our enemies.“

“They’re not our enemies now,“ Jin Guanyao interjects calmly, his voice soothing and patient, “But surely you see that it may not remain so? We cannot risk another war.”

“They’re barely a few hundred people and we have already taken most of their resources. They’ll live as poor peasants. How can they be a threat to us?“ Wei Wuxian asks. 

“You’re indeed naïve, Wei-gongzi,“ Jin Guangshan says in a gentle, placating tone, “Perhaps your fondness for Wen-guniang is making you turn a blind eye. Beautiful women have a tendency to do that.“ He chuckles indulgently.

The sly implication in his tone isn’t lost on anyone. Lan Zhan’s expression turns frosty and Wei Wuxian feels a surge of fury strong enough to make his blood boil. There are so many things wrong with that statement that Wei Wuxian, for once, is rendered speechless.

“You question the honor of Wei Wuxian of all people?“ Nie Mingjue demands, taking a step forward, “I have stayed silent because Jiang Sect business isn’t my business but I will not have you slander and belittle a proven warrior in my presence!“

“Indeed,“ Lan Xichen says calmly but there’s no mistaking the sharp look in his eyes. Lan Xichen rarely reacts to provocations or interferes in sect matters that don’t concern him. But he’s not going to let anyone upset his younger brother carelessly, “The matter of the Wens is easy to resolve. Let us give them a small piece of land, let them set up a village, and forbid cultivation among them.“

“Er-ge,“ Jin Guangyao begins but Lan Zhan is out of patience. 

He steps back and bows to all assembled before placing a hand on Wei Wuxian’s back, “Wei Ying will choose his own path. Wens will remain free. Wei Ying and I will marry.“ He meets Jiang Cheng’s furious gaze, “Jiang-zongzhu must decide whether his brother’s happiness matters to him.“

Wei Wuxian winces. 

“My brother’s happiness?“ Jiang Cheng demands, “All everyone has ever cared about is his happiness! What about me? What about our Sect? A sect he nearly destroyed because of his loyalty towards you.“ Jiang Cheng looks at him, “Did you forget my mother? My father? How do you intend to repay the enormous debt you carry, Wei Wuxian?“

Wei Wuxian stares back at him, “What is my repayment, Jiang Cheng?” He asks softly, “What will it take for you to consider that debt repaid?” It has been over five years since the fall of Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian has bled and slogged through war to restore that place to its former glory. He has kept Jiang Cheng safe, helped renegotiate shijie’s marriage, and used his name to draw skilled cultivators to YungmengJiang. 

What more can he give? 

“Loyalty.“ He stills, “You devote your life to YungmengJiang and nothing else.“

Lan Xichen makes a faint, alarmed noise while Nie Mingjue huffs in disapproval. 

Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath, feeling Lan Zhan’s fingers flex on his back. He levels a flat look at Jiang Cheng and thinks on the matter of debts. He thinks about Madam Yu’s refusal to bend, of Jiang-zongzhu’s passivity and lack of planning. He thinks about the Wen’s unprovoked attack on Cloud Recesses and the inevitability of war. 

He thinks of his Lan Zhan and shijie’s Jin Zixuan, without swords and facing an armed group of Wens under Wen Chao’s orders. 

He thinks of love. Of what it means to be truly, unconditionally loved. 

No sorrys and no thank yous. No debt owed for simply being a part of someone’s life. 

He thinks of acceptance that comes with an older brother’s amused smile. He thinks of an uncle’s gruff admonishment to behave followed by a stiff reminder to eat, you’re skin and bones already. 

He takes a deep breath and decides. 

“No.“