#I'm not done yet but I'm almost halfway through.

[writersdrug]

I need the bartender Simon having to escape upstairs for a few minutes just to control the monster in his pants just because of a more direct provocation from the reader

I was saving this ask and I think this is the perfect moment after Simon sees reader in his shirt, no?

Warnings: NSFW, masturbation, sex toy, pining, daydreaming about p in v sex

He doesn't dare go up to his room - even after the bar is closed, after you and Johnny are both gone, after his tasks are complete. His mind has been scrambled ever since you came down in his shirt, looking like you'd just woken up from having a nap in his bed. He knew that wasn't the case, but it was so easy to pretend. You made it easy, looking like wearing his shirt was just your typical Friday outfit. If he tried hard enough, sitting at the bar after hours, sipping on an Old Fashioned- he could imagine you were up there right now, lying stomach-first in his bed, wearing his shirt, with "LT RIELY" on your back - you weren't objective, he certainly doesn't think of you like that - but having his claim on you aroused the most primal part inside him. If only you could see what you've done. Did you even know it?

Price comes lumbering down the stairs. Simon doesn't bother to look at him; he sits at the bar, his Old Fashioned long gone, with an empty whiskey glass and the mostly-full bottle next to him. He was hoping to replace the thought of you with drinking, but he didn't have the stomach for it.

"I'm plannin' to see if Garrick wants to join the team." Price says, shrugging on his jacket. "I know he wanted to be his own man, but we could use him. Our girl's made this place quite popular."

Simon wants to spit out the words he'd just heard. Our girl. Whose girl? John's? Soap's? The entire pub? It was his name on your back. Not Price. Not MacTavish. He was the one you came to with all those receipts, numbers scribbled in the margins, trusting him to help you ward them off. Sure, you have fun with everyone, asking them all for help - but you go to him the most easily, whenever you need to feel safe. Bad customers, bad situations - you looked to him. Didn't that mean anything to Price?

He doesn't respond to his captain, choosing to stare at his empty glass instead. Price looks at him quizzically.

"Feelin' alright, there?"

Simon grunts. "Long day."

Price knows he's bullshitting him. He knows exactly what this is about. He sighs, pulling his beanie on and tucking the money pouch into his jacket. "If you want 'er, Simon, tell me to back off. Can't read your mind."

That has him pursing his lips, grip tight around the sides of his glass. He would have punched John, was he any other man. He knows exactly what Simon's thinking, yet he makes him work for it. Typical. His pride and his jealousy are fighting tooth and nail against each other, but he can barely say a word.

Price stands there a moment, waiting for Simon to speak - but he doesn't even spare the owner a glance. Bastard's always punishing himself... he thinks, sighing again.

"Bright and early tomorrow, lad." He says, heading towards the kitchen. "Lights off when you're done here." He knows Simon's capable of closing, but he repeats it every night regardless.

"Sir."

Price stops, halfway through the kitchen door. He looks at Simon, who's now staring directly back at him. There's a look in his face, something that reminds him of Ghost - the reason he became his right-hand man.

"Respectfully..." he says slowly. "Back off."

Price almost finds it comical. Like an animal staking its claim, staring at its rival - except they’re not rivals. The only reason Simon is bothering to play his captain's game, asking for permission to have what Price would happily hand over, is because he's his superior. Even if they're all retired from the SAS, no one ever really dropped the dynamics of the team.

He smiles, nodding his head once. "Understood." He says, shoving himself through the kitchen door. "But hurry up and say somethin' to 'er. I'm sick of you losing your mind during the rush."

With that, Simon hears him leave through the back door. He stays there for a moment, his mind reeling - he feels both satisfied and angry at the same time. It was a bit humiliating to tell Price to leave you for himself - you don't belong to him. But that was a problem he was going to fix. You had his name on your back-

For Christ’s sake, he’s got to give it a rest. You wore his shirt, that was all. You wore it – with no bra. Bare. Naked underneath the 141’s insignia, under his title.

And that damn bra is still in his room.

He can’t take it anymore. He unscrews the whiskey bottle and takes a few swigs, before slamming it back onto the bar top. He leaves the bottle and the glass there as he gets up, making his way across the floor, up the stairs, passing the office, and continuing up to his studio flat.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. If you’d gone snooping, you either did a good job of hiding the evidence, or you didn’t really rifle through too much. His bed was untouched, his books and items where he had put them last – he goes into his drawers, checking to see if you had gone through anything other than his shirts. Considering everything is still where it should be, he assumed not. Though you did leave a mess in his shirt drawer – you’d been digging around in there until you found his old SAS shirt. Did you mean to do that? Were you looking for something with his name on it, just to drive him insane?

He goes back into his top drawer, muttering a curse as he pushes the contents aside. His cock is pulsing in his pants as he grabs his pocket pussy, slamming the drawer shut and heading towards his bed. He doesn't want to draw this one out - this is nothing more than a wank, just to get you out of his head. He sits at the foot of his bed and unbuttons his jeans, pulling his hard length out of his briefs – it bounces up and slaps against his abdomen, precum already smeared across the tip. He’s been hard for hours now, trying not to cum in his pants at the thought of your tits rubbing against the inside of his shirt. Do you have small, pebbly nipples? Or ones that are soft and pliant? He growls as he smears the tip of his cock against the lips of the toy, rubbing up and down the slit. He sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. You’re there, rubbing your lips on his cock, your hand wrapped tightly around his shaft as you stare up at him, licking and kissing his tip like a good girl…

He scowls and opens his eyes, sitting upright – he sees your bra hanging off the back of his chair, and he nearly passes out form how quickly the blood rushes to his cock. Pink lace, delicate and kinda skimpy… and your shirt, crumpled on the seat of the chair. You’d forgotten to shove them into your bag before you left. Or did you do this on purpose?

He's reaching out before he realizes it, slowly standing up and heading towards the chair. He wants to grab your bra, rub his cock in it until he stains it with his thick cum – but something in the back of his mind keeps him from touching it. One, it’s purely you, and he doesn’t want to ruin that. Two, he’s trying to cum. Not to cum to you. He’s doing this to get rid of your image in his head.

So, he goes for the next best thing. He grabs your shirt and sits back down on the edge of the bed. He lines himself up with his fleshlight and brings your shirt to his face; no wonder the drinks had turned it translucent, it was the thinnest fabric he had ever felt. Practically skin.

He presses it against his face and inhales: the scent of you, sweet, floral and spicy, fills his mind. It makes it all to easy to imagine that you’re sinking down onto his cock, and not that he’s stuffed it as far as he can into the toy. He groans, his eyelids fluttering shut as he pumps his hips once, then again… the tightness of the fleshlight slides over him easily, offering no resistance with the precum acting as a lube while he grinds up into it, heat knotting in his gut. The waist of his jeans hugs his thighs as he slowly and steadily pulses towards the ceiling, taking deep breaths of your scent.

He feels like an animal. Dirty, cheap, and desperate. He has to remind himself that it’s not about you, it’s about having a good wank and getting you out of his head. He drops your shirt on his chest and uses his free hand to cup his balls, groaning as he massages them. The schlick of the fleshlight around his dick is loud, the sensation borderline painful as he quickly fucks into it, curses spilling past his lips as he slams the thing down to the base of his length, catching on the Jacob’s ladder piercing on the underside, then back to the tip.

He shouldn’t, but he lets his mind slip elsewhere. What would you be doing? Would you have your hands on his chest, lips parted in a moan as you drop your hips onto his thighs, your cunt dripping and squeezing around his member…? What are you doing now? Are you still wearing his shirt? Are you lying back on your bed, playing with your breasts under the fabric and using your other hand to toy with your pussy? What do you sound like? Are you saying his name, or can you make any sound at all?

He falls back against the bed. “Fuck fuck fuck-“ he mumbles. He’s caught himself in a trap here – he can’t allow himself to indulge in the thought of you, begging him to take your hips and buck up into you – but it’s impossible to get you out of his head. Even if he could, he doesn’t think he’d be able to cum without you. He squeezes his fist around the fleshlight, groaning loudly from the pain, trying to drown out the sounds of your moans in his head… you’re always there, ever present, leaning over him and whimpering in his ear, need you, Simon, wanna cum on your cock, want it inside-

It's all too much for him, but not enough. He turns himself over, climbing up to his knees on the bed. He props himself up on his forearm, holding the fleshlight with his other hand as he ruts into it, stuffing his cock in as far as it will go, until the lips are smashed against the base. He pants and groans, mouth hanging open as he hovers over the bed; over you, holding one of your thighs up, touching his forehead against yours, watching as you’re covered in a layer of sweat, tits bouncing with each violent thrust of his hips. Both wrists secured above your head with one of his meaty hands, whimpers and whines spilling from your mouth as you struggle to remain coherent. Your cunt swallows him greedily, hugs him tightly, pulses around him, coaxes him to pound into you harder and harder, your walls twitching as slick gushes around him, your fingers digging into the back of his hand as you cry out his name, “Simon, Simon, Simon”-

He hisses through his teeth as his balls seize up, his abdomen going taut and his dick twitching in the toy. He rips the fleshlight off and grabs your shirt without a second thought, wrapping it tight around his cock and pumping it. “Gonna cum, gonna cum- fuck- oh, fuck-!” He mumbles to no one as his orgasm is ripped from him, hips canting repeatedly as cum spurts into the fabric of your shirt, leaking out around his thighs as he thrusts into it, thighs aching from the exertion. He bites into his hand and growls as he continues rutting, fighting through the overstimulation to chase what remains of his high – but he soon collapses on the bed, huffing and groaning into the mattress.

His orgasm fades slowly, his heart ramming against his ribcage and the fog clearing from his head. Realization sinks in as he’s hyper-aware of your shirt, still wrapped around his dick, now soaked in his cum. He'd have to wash it, now. Filthy doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels, but he doesn’t find it in him to care anymore. He rolls onto his side, clutching your shirt in his hand. Fuck. One quick tug was all this was supposed to be, and now, he’s picturing you lying across from him. Face flushed, lips swollen and eyes hazy, smiling at him and panting. Telling him you love him. He’d say it back a million times. Listening as you breathe, as you talk about your silly little ideas for the pub, for redecorating his room… craving the moment where you drag yourself closer to him and snuggle into his chest for the rest of the night.

He hasn’t gotten rid of you, like he hoped for. He’s only made it more clear: he wants you. He wants his life to be threaded with yours, he wants to wake up next to you, he wants you to change his routine, to pick up his broken pieces and make a mosaic – and he wants to be there when you need someone, he wants to give you everything you want and more, whether that’s a life up in the clouds or down here, in his arms, in his small bed and lackluster apartment. You’d make it better; you’d make anything better.

He sighs, slowly sitting up and on the edge of the bed. Price was right – he’s got to hurry up and say something to you, or else he’ll be drowned in his obsession. You’d either agree to take this fucked-up giant on a date and end his misery, or you’d reject him, and he could force you from his thoughts and replace you with misery. It’s worked before.  

He pulls off his jeans and shirt and grabs the fleshlight, standing with a grunt and walking into his bathroom. He’s planning to clean the toy, but if he waits long enough, he might just be fucking it again in the shower.

[pedroshotwifey]

Trouble in Paradise (Part One)

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Of all the things you thought you might be doing on your summer break, falling in love with your father's best friend in Hawaii wasn't one of them.

Tags/Warnings: Nothing crazy yet! Some kind of maybe tension, pet names, talk of Joel knowing reader since she was small, reader has a dad, mom is not mentioned, yadayada

A/N: Hello my friends! I'm terribly sorry I've been away for so long. There have been a lot of...unsavory happenings lately. Want to say sorry in advance because I know this isn't my best writing, but i'm trying to get back into the groove of things. I'm hoping I'll be back to my scheduled programming (TTF, FB, answering requests) by the time this short series is done. Expecting it to be around 3-5 parts. Thank you so much for sticking with me <3

*******

You’ve been laying in your bed blasting your “chill” playlist through your earbuds since you got home from school around five. The last exhausting day of your freshman college year. Lana Del Rey, Cigarettes After Sex, Hozier, and the like have been floating lazily through your head as you watched the sun go down. 

After a long day, you’d hung your head off the foot of your bed, intent to bask in the golden glow of the evening in a baggy T and your underwear until your eyes shut for the night. You were almost asleep when you were interrupted by a sound that didn’t quite go with “Wicked Game”. 

You yank your earbuds out, sitting up on your bed. You don’t remember it getting so dark. Your cracked window allows the late summer breeze in to gently rustle the curtains framing it. Crickets and cicadas chirp loudly outside, creating a symphony to compliment the stars shining through the inky sky. 

“Sweetheart?” 

Your head swivels to look accusingly at your closed door. The name was shouted from the stairway. Definitely your dad.

You roll your eyes but get out of bed. The clock on your nightstand tells you it’s 8:02pm, so he’s probably calling you for dinner. You’ve told him before that it’s easier just to call your cell, but when has he ever listened? You pad to your door, crack it, and shout back. 

“Be down in a minute!”

Getting no response, you can only assume he heard you. You close your door back and pick up the polka-dotted pajama pants crumpled into a pile beside your bed. You tug them on through a yawn, almost tripping a few times before they’re on all the way. 

You check your mirror before heading down. You look sleepy, not like it really matters. Your door creeks as you push it open again and make your way down the stairs. The soft carpet laid in the middle of the hardwood keeping your steps quiet. It’s about halfway to the kitchen that you hear a second voice to your father’s. It sounds vaguely familiar, and your heart skips a beat. Surely it’s not—

You climb down a few more steps and stop in your tracks at the sight of Joel Miller sitting at your dinner table. You haven’t seen him since at least your high school graduation. You’d harbored a small crush on him then, but that had to have been nothing compared to whatever the hell you’re feeling now. Your entire body seems to glow with some mix of embarrassment and surprise. 

You really thought you’d gotten over this silly little crush. Then again, it’s hard to get over something like Joel Miller. High school boyfriends? Sure, no problem. But the classic DILF next door of a best friend your dad has isn’t so easy. He’s been a constant in your childhood, always kind and there for you even when your dad wasn’t. So, in other words, highly inappropriate for you to be so attached to. 

It’s easy to say the years have been kind to him. He’s a few years older than your father, so probably about mid-forties now. He’s started to gray, a fine amount of silver peppered into his mousy brown hair. That beard of his has taken the brunt of it, though. That beard you’ve imagined between your thighs so many times. 

His dark eyes seem to have become kinder thanks to the crow’s feet carefully etched into the corners. He’s wearing his signature T-shirt and worn jeans, his brown leather jacket and work boots likely disposed of near the front door. 

He smirks as his brown eyes fall on your disheveled form, halted on the bottom step. You, in contrast to the god-like figure he’s sporting, must look like an absolute mess. Despite that fact, he looks at you almost in a different way than he used to. More intensely. It makes you resist the urge to squirm. 

“Joel,” you finally manage to choke out. “Hi.” 

Smooth, you think. 

“Hey, trouble,” he returns, light amusement lacing his tone. It makes you nervous, like he’s clocked your little secret. 

He gets up from his seat, and you can tell he’s going for a hug. You shock yourself into action and take the few steps to reach him. He envelops you in his strong arms just like he used to, and you take the opportunity to breathe in his scent. Smokey pine, whiskey, and a hint of mint—just like you remember. 

You’re smiling like an idiot despite yourself as you pull away. Luckily, your dad makes an appearance before you say something embarrassing. 

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” he teases. “You remember my buddy Joel, dontch’a?” 

Joel scoffs before you can answer. “‘Course she remembers me, Scott, known her since she was damn near in diapers.” 

Your dad rolls his eyes. “Well, just to ask,” he argues. 

You shake your head. Same banter between those two for as long as you can remember. They’ve been friends since your dad’s freshman highschool year, and Joel’s senior. Everyone who knows Joel and Scott considers them to be brothers as much as Joel and Tommy.

Cheeks heated, you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up while they’re distracted. You shut the door and comb through your hair with your fingers, straighten your tank top, and wipe away the smudged mascara you didn’t care to wash off earlier. 

When you look half-decent, you wash your hands and walk back to the dining room, choosing to ignore the fact that you just tidied yourself for your dad’s best friend. Totally normal thing to do, right?

Joel is sitting back in the same spot as you found him the first time, your dad in the seat opposite of him. There are three bowls of spaghetti served, one in front of each man, and one beside Joel. You’re not going to complain about that. 

You slide into the seat next to him, flashing him a quick smile when he turns his head to acknowledge you. You swear his gaze lingers for a second, but it’s probably just wishful thinking. 

You look away and dig into your food, zoning out as Joel and your dad talk about work. Joel’s presence beside you fuels your daydreaming, his deep, drawling voice keeping it running. You wish so badly to lean into him, feel the comfort of his embrace. Maybe more. You wish, not for the first time, that he would look at you the way you looked at him. You wish he would—

You jolt when you hear your name in conversation, your spaghetti-filled fork halfway to your mouth. 

“No, I don’t think she’d mind at all, would’ya, honey?” 

Your dad looks expectantly at you. Your eyes dart between him and Joel. 

“Uh, sorry, what?” You ask, your cheeks heating for the second time tonight. 

“Helping Joel out. I know it’s been some years, but it’s just basic stuff. Plus, it’ll be in—” 

“Really, Scott, you don’t have to volunteer her if she don’t want to—” 

“No, no,” you interrupt. “I don’t mind at all.” 

In all honesty, you didn’t think your answer through. You have no idea what you just signed up for. Though, if it’s with Joel, it can’t be too bad. 

“No, really, sweetheart,” Joel interjects. “I wouldn’t wanna have a pretty ‘lil’ thing workin’ away on her summer vacation.”

You turn to look at him, flashing him your sweetest eyes. He called you pretty—you feel like you might explode. “I really don’t mind.” 

He waits for a moment before he clears his throat and turns back to your dad. “Alright then,” he says before taking a sip of his drink. “We leave for Hawaii next Tuesday.” 

You just about choke on your dinner. Your dad laughs. 

“Told you, Joel, she doesn’t listen to a damn thing we say.” 

*****

Hawaii? For two weeks? With Joel? What do you even pack?

You stare at your suitcase, waiting for your closet to help you out and throw something in there. Should you bring sundresses or work clothes? Both, right? Probably both. Maybe more work clothes. You said you’d be helping, after all. But with what? 

God, you should have just paid attention to that damn conversation. 

It’s late Monday night, and you haven’t been able to pick up on enough over-the-phone conversation to get the gist of it. You need to stop being such a wuss and just ask. But that would mean calling Joel. Do you really want to call Joel? 

Well, yes, of course you do. But do you really want to sound awkward around Joel? No, no you don’t. And you know that’s exactly what would be happening over the phone with a man you’ve never talked over the phone with. 

You groan, flopping yourself onto your bed to stare at your ceiling and overthink. You don’t want to overpack, because you don’t want Joel to see that you overpacked. But you also don’t want to underpack, because you don’t want Joel to see that you underpacked, either. This really shouldn’t be that hard. You’re about to get back up, say screw it, and throw a mixture in there, when you hear a knock on your door. 

“Come in,” you call, unmoving.

“Hey, honey,” your dad says as he creeps in. “Just got off the phone with Joel.” 

You sit up at this. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, he figured you might want some advice on what to pack.” 

Oh thank God. 

“Said he’s gonna be puttin’ you to work, but to bring some pretty clothes if you want. There’s a pool at the place you’ll be workin’ at, and a beach nearby.” 

You nod along, thanking all that is holy that Joel had the idea to give you some input. 

Your dad eyes your empty suitcase and raises a brow in your direction. 

“He’ll be here around 4:00am, so be ready by then.” He looks back at you. “I love you, sweetheart, I’ll see you when you get back.” 

He gives you a hug and closes your door. 

You take Joel’s advice and pack mostly for work—with a few pretty things just in case. 

*****

As expected, Joel’s truck is in your driveway at 4:00am on the dot. You’re in the passenger seat and headed for the airport by 4:03. 

The ride is less tense than you thought it would be, mostly because the two of you are so tired. You’re practically in a coma against the window, the dull classic country music playing quietly from the old truck’s speakers lulling you to sleep. Joel is in about the same mindset, the lazy drumming of his fingers against the wheel the only thing convincing you he’s still awake. 

Buildings pass in a dark blur, everything mushed together into one big half-dream. Joel’s scent fills the cab, sealing the state you’re in. You glance at the clock: 4:48. You blink, and it’s 5:20, the truck is stopped at the airport, and Joel is gently nudging you awake. You squint at him, the cab light rudely intruding, and you can just barely make out the faint smile on his lips. You have a strong urge to lean forward and kiss him, but thankfully you’re conscious enough to not make a complete fool of yourself right now. 

“C’mon, darlin’, we got a plane to catch.” 

You nod, trying to get your bearings. Joel slides out of his side of the truck, and you follow out of yours, getting a good stretch in before leaning back into the cab and retrieving your suitcase from the narrow backseat. When you make your way around the truck to Joel, he gently grabs it from your hand. 

You look at him, mouth open and ready to argue, but he gives you a look that makes you shut it just as quick. Your stomach flutters at the gesture, and you kind of want to slap him for it. Or maybe yourself. Either way, you keep close to him until you’re entering through the sliding doors out front. 

It only takes about an hour to get through TSA and in line to board the plane, but you’re wide awake by then. And hungry. 

“Hey Joel,” you whisper. He hums at you but doesn’t look down. 

“I’m hungry.” 

Now he looks at you. “I don’t think we got time to grab anything now, darlin’, but we should have a layover at LAX in about three hours. Think you can hold tight ‘till then?” 

You nod, trying not to overthink the conversation. It was literally a few words exchanged between the two of you, but it might be the first time you’ve conversed alone outside of your dad’s house. It felt domestic to you in a way that makes you feel like an idiot. It was one conversation. 

Of course, you have to ruin the moment by humming “Party in the USA”. I mean, it’s Joel’s fault. He was the one to mention LAX. 

He laughs and nudges you. “Quit that,” he commands, though you can tell he thinks it’s funny. You giggle but indulge him. 

“Fine,” you draw out. “Somebody hates fun.” 

He scoffs another laugh, but says nothing. 

Finally, the two of you are next to board. You stop around the middle of the plane, and Joel hoists your bags into the compartment above your seats. Then, he moves aside to let you in first. 

“By the window, darlin’,” he says.

You smile with excitement and settle in, Joel sitting next to you a second later. 

“Your dad said somethin’ about it bein’ your first time flyin’, so I figured you might want a window seat,” he explains. 

Your heart warms at this. Why does he have to be so thoughtful? 

“Thank you, Joel,” you say genuinely, flashing him a smile. It may be the lighting, but you swear you see his cheeks pink up just a little before he nods and faces forward. 

The flight goes by relatively quickly. Joel does some sort of paperwork on the little desk in front of him, and you pop your earbuds in and listen to a downloaded playlist while you read. The light romance you chose was cute, but it failed to distract you completely from the hunk of man beside you. 

You’re not sure how many times you caught yourself staring at the flex of his wrist as he wrote whatever down. It was maybe once or twice that your eyes found their way up to his bicep, possibly a few times that they landed on his lower lip, his teeth bitten into it in concentration. You definitely got heated more times than you would’ve liked. And as your book started heating as well, you had to put it down. You really hope it’s not just you that feels this new tension.

For the last twenty minutes or so, you’ve been looking out the window, content to listen to your music and watch the land go by. For the last five, you’ve felt Joel’s eyes on you. You refuse to look back at him, though, just in case it’s your imagination. 

But you swear you can feel the weight of his stare. You fidget, trying to ignore the feeling as you stare out the window and at the clouds. Then you hear a sharp sound from the speakers 

through your earbuds. 

You take them off and look back at Joel as the pilot informs you that you should be landing in about ten minutes. 

He was staring at you, and he didn’t look away. You don’t look away now, either. You don’t say anything.

“Thank you for comin’ with me, darlin’.” 

You’re taken aback. Of course you would go with him. 

“It’s no problem, Joel,” you say. He gives you a short smile. “I mean, really,” you joke. “You’re the one taking me on a free vacation.” 

He smiles fully this time and rolls his eyes. He tends to do that a lot with you. It makes you smile too. 

The speaker dings again:

“Should be some light turbulence, but we’ll be on the ground soon, folks.” 

Joel looks away after the announcement, gathering his work to put back into his bag. You shake yourself off and choose not to acknowledge whatever the hell that was. 

******

You knew LAX would be busy, but. Holy shit. This place is insane. 

You keep close to Joel as he navigates the two of you through the crowds and to your next gate. He keeps slightly in front of you, and you keep getting the urge to grab his hand to keep up, but you don’t. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this many people in one place—and you thought the Austin airport had been overwhelming. 

There are a million shops and restaurants and gates as you make your way down the massive hallways, up and down the escalators, and through trains. It takes an hour and fifteen before you can even see the sign for your gate. Your legs hurt from walking, and your head hurts from all the noise. 

You keep an eye on some of the closer restaurants you pass so that you can backtrack to them and grab a bagel or something before you have to get on your plane. You catch a glimpse of a Burger King when you’re suddenly slammed into. 

You gasp as you’re sent flying onto your ass by a man who couldn’t be bothered to glance your way to see if you’re alright. Joel whips around and sets the bags down, quickly helping you up. 

“Shit, are you alright, darlin’?” he asks, a deep concern in his eyes. Your cheeks are burning with embarrassment even though it wasn’t your fault. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” 

Joel looks you up and down to make sure as you stand on your own two feet. He turns around, trying to scope out the man who bumped into you, and turns back when he finds that he’s long gone. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he finally says. “People don’t give a rat’s ass here.” 

You nod, smiling at his choice of words. “I’m alright, Joel.” 

He sighs and picks his bag back up, slinging the large weight over his shoulder, and then picks your suitcase up in one hand. WIth the other, he grabs onto yours. His hand is rough but warm and comforting. 

“Just stay close ‘till we get to the gate.”

Practically glowing, you hold onto him and let him lead the way. It only takes a few more minutes before he’s telling you to sit down at the waiting area. 

“I’m gonna grab you somethin’ to eat, ‘nd I’ll be right back.” 

You decide to read while he’s on his errand, picking your book back up to a particularly smutty part. You’re not going to pretend like you aren’t picturing the characters as you and Joel as he eats her out on a countertop. You bite your lip, consuming each word with fervor.

You’re just finishing the chapter when Joel strolls up with two breakfast sandwiches, a coffee, and an orange juice. He hands you a sandwich and the latter drink, and takes the seat next to you with a groan. 

“Probably have at least thirty minutes,” he grumbles. 

You nod as you thank him and unwrap your sandwich. It’s silent for a few minutes, before you can’t bear it and break the peace. 

“What all are we going to be doing?” 

Joel looks at you, almost flustered. He must have misheard you. “Huh?” 

“Like when we get there, what are we going to be working on?” 

“Oh, uh,” he clears his throat and takes a sip of his coffee. “Mostly flooring ‘nd some drywall, but there should be somethin’ to do in the kitchen if I’m hearin’ right.” 

You nod and take a bite of your sandwich. Joel continues. 

“Should have a few days to relax, though, if we get everythin’ done in time.” 

Your stomach flips at the thought. A few days to relax with Joel. 

“Sounds easy enough,” you say. 

Joel nods again. “Atta girl.”

“Flight 332 is ready to begin boarding.” 

You and Joel take the last bites of your sandwich in silence and stand up to get in line once again. This flight is going to be longer, about six hours. 

Joel throws your trash away and comes back to grab your bags. Same as last time, you have a seat by the window. Not like it matters much in the long run, because just after Joel takes his seat and the plane takes off, your head falls onto his shoulder, and you promptly fall asleep. 

******

Thank you for reading!! Part two should be coming soon.

Itty bitty mini taglist: @callachloe @kewwrites @casa-boiardi @pastawench (love you guys)

Pls let me know if you would like to be tagged in pt. 2!

[judithbutlersdealer]

i’m for real trying to stay positive but revising for my stats exam is literally making me believe i will never work in any of the fields i want to work in 🤪

[keeps-ache]

ah yiss. the golden garbage premium pass (free!)

[d0rothydraws]

After a night out things get heated and Sylus can't control himself, revealing a new side of him.

content: f!reader, monster cock, porn without plot, public sex, multiple orgasms, Inappropriate use of Evol, after care, just a lot of smut idk

w/c: 3.7k

Ao3: Here

a/n: This took so long i'm so sorry works been wearing me out so much I haven't been able to post much. I hope this satisfies all the monster fuckers that wanted this from my one post.

Tonight had been.. A lot. You and Sylus were at a dinner banquet. Apparently a very important man was hosting the event and Sylus was looking for information about something. You didn’t really know or ask. You don’t really ask many questions these days. Sylus had custom fit you one of the most beautiful dresses you had ever seen. It was made of the softest silk, the neckline was low yet tasteful, showing enough to catch some looks but not enough to feel exposed. The skirt had a high slit that went to the top of your hip, exposing your leg once in a while. As you walked, the long skirt looked like it was flowing around you like water. You wore matching blood red heels that looked like they were carved out of ruby. The light catching them in a mesmerizing way. Your hair was done in a way where it framed your face, pulled in an updo that bounced slightly every time you took a step. And on your neck was a crow pendant embedded with a ruby. 

To say it simply, you looked beautiful. Elegant. 

And Sylus couldn’t keep his eyes, or hands, off of you.

As you walked, his hand was draped around your waist, hand on your hip. Or his hand was on your lower back, or when you sat his hand was on your thigh, fingers drawing patterns that sent a chill down your spine. He looked at you from the corner of his eye, meeting yours once in a while. You almost could feel the hot breath that left him when this happened, exhaling every time as if he was trying to control himself. 

You couldn’t lie, it felt good to see him like this. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what you would look like in the dress, it was custom fit, custom designed just for you. He had seen it on you before. And yet when anyone looked over at you, giving you just the smallest bit of attention, you felt his hand tighten, body pulled closer. Your hip flush against his. You could feel heat radiating from his body.

Part of you wondered if he was going to end up dragging you into the bathroom. A couple times you thought he was considering it, especially as his hand moved to the inside of your thigh halfway through the banquet. His rough fingers trailed higher, brushing against your panties. He leaned over whispering in your ear, his voice thick as honey. 

“You look delicious.” His words sent a shiver through your body as your hand tightened on the fork you were holding. You looked around, everyone was talking about something you didn't understand. Nobody knew what was happening under the table. And in a bold decision, you parted your thighs just a little bit more. Moving your hips to press against the fingers that were tracing your folds through your panties. You heard his breath catch, his hand pausing for only a second, Sylus’ lips returned to your ear. 

“Try not to squirm too much, kitten. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold back.” He said as his fingers dipped under the fabric, calloused fingers grazing the sensitive skin. You took a bite of food to hide a moan, your face red as a shaky breath left your lipsticked lips. You wanted nothing more than to ride his hand. To throw all caution to the wind and thrust your hips against his fingers until you were clenching and twitching around him, begging for more. 

And suddenly, his hand was gone. Your disappointment must have been audible because he chuckled, bringing his finger to his lips. Swiftly he liked them as if he was licking off a stray drop of sauce that fell onto his hand. You caught the look in his eye as his right eye started glowing slightly. Glancing down you seen the red and black tendrils of his power snake its way around your leg. It felt warm and you tried to not shiver or make a sound as you felt the weight of it move between your thighs. Your panties pushed to the side and as a reflex you tried to close your legs. The tendrils pushed your legs back open gently, like a pair of hands and as you felt the warmth against your core, you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching a hand out, putting it on Sylus’ thigh, nails pressing into the thick meat. 

It felt as if it was Sylus himself between your thighs, just a different version. The feeling was like a warm tongue licking at you, lapping up every bit that you provided as you tried your damndest to not moan, or at least, too loud. You never felt anything like this before. You almost forgot you were in public until you heard his voice in your ear again. 

“Quiet, kitten. You’ll get caught.” His voice was low, strained. A rush of adrenaline flooded your veins as you choked back a whine. The energy pushed inside you, curling exactly where you needed it. Licking your sensitive, throbbing clit. Your hand on his thigh tightened, nails digging in more making him give a low groan deep in his throat. 

“Sylus-” You said, trying to be quiet, but the sound was choked out. Your breathing was heavy, face red and eyes were starting to get glossy. “I can’t. P-please, I-” You let out a choked gasp, louder than you wanted as your orgasm rushed through you. You clenched around the thick mass of energy inside you as you panted, blushing so dark that you probably matched your dress. A few people turned to look, eyebrows raised in curiosity as they saw your out of breath expression. 

“We will be taking our leave now.” Sylus said, the energy around your lower half dissolved as if it never happened. Your legs felt numb as you tried to steady your thoughts, your heart pounding and blood rushing. Your body moved on its own as Sylus stood, as if being willed by him to follow. You had no complaints about this, your anticipation was as high as ever to get him alone. His hand was firm on your lower back giving you much needed support as you walked to the car.

The drive home was quiet but the tension was thick. His body was tense as he pulled into the driveway and before you could even open the door, the red-black tendrils of energy embraced you again. Your body was moved by a force you couldn’t fight even if you wanted to. A thrill ran through your body. He had never used his Evol on you like this before. 

You were placed in the middle of the bedroom, Sylus following you through the door as his eye glowed. His hands in his pockets as he looked at you with a hunger you never saw from him before. You let out a slow breath, feeling the energy dissolve into the air as he towered over you, a hand moving to your chin. 

“Sweetie, you almost made me lose control, looking like that in public. It’s dangerous, you know.” He said, fingers trailing your skin as his other hand trailed down the curve of your waist, admiring the figure hidden under the dress he picked out. 

“I guess you could say I had a good stylist.” You said with a half laugh, he chuckled, a low sound that warmed your core. His hand moved behind your neck, fingers making quick work of the tie that held the light dress on your body. With a flick of his fingers, the fabric fell to the floor around your feet. Your hand moved to his chest, trailing up to wrap around his tie. 

The tension broke as you pulled him down into a rough kiss, one of his hands curled in your hair while the other moved to your hip. He guided you as you felt the bed hit the back of your legs, one of his legs coming to rest on the edge of the bed as you fell back. His kiss was hot, hungry. Teeth bite your lip, tongues pushing against each other as your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. He took your hand from his tie, his fingers wrapping around yours as he pinned it above your head. 

“Do you trust me?” He breathed in your ear as he pulled back, panting softly. You could feel the hardness of his cock against your thigh, straining his pants. You arched your hips up to apply some pressure, making him groan. You knew there was only one answer to his question.  

“Yes.” 

The grip on your hand tightened as it was pushed harder into the soft mattress, his other hand moved to your face bringing your lips to his as he kissed you. Slow, deep. Different from the kiss you just had. You felt hot breath on your cheek as he breathed out through his nose asif he was holding his breath waiting for your answer. In turn, the kiss took your own breath away as you pulled back, your lips slightly red from how he bit your lip as you pulled back. His fingers traced the outline of your lower lip as his eyes stared down at you, red orbs swirling.

“Darling,” His voice made a low sound as his eyes looked into you. A serious look that brought you back to reality for a moment. He didn’t give you that look often.  “I’m not sure if I'll be able to hold back tonight.” Sylus sounded just as breathless as you felt. “If you need me to stop at any point, tell me. Promise me.” He said, the hand on your cheek gently tracing the skin under his fingers. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Your heart fluttered as you looked up at him. Your cheeks flushed as you took a deep breath, processing his words. 

You two had a safe word. It was well established when you started becoming physical. There was one time you did have to use it, not because of anything horrible but you weren’t in the right mindset for what he had planned that night. So instead of putting yourself through it, knowing that he wouldn’t want you to do that, you said it. He stopped instantly followed by a warm bath, snacks, and your favorite show. 

“I promise.” You breathed, looking into his eyes as he stared down at you. There was something that you couldn’t tell, that you never had seen before. “I trust you, Sylus.” You whispered, bringing your free hand to pull him into a slow kiss that matched the last one. You put your whole soul into that kiss, as if hoping he would understand just how much you cared for him. How without a thought you would put your life in his hands, knowing damn well that he would do the same for you. 

As the kiss continued, the energy began to change. Once soft and gentle was becoming something more. His lips were hot, hungry as he straddled your hips. His clothed cock grinded against your thigh making your body twitch and shiver with need. His hand on your face became rougher, holding your jaw firmly as his kiss devoured you. He pulled away with a soft growl, licking his lips. 

“You’re like a drug to me.” Sylus said as his hands moved to pull at his clothes, buttons unfastening to reveal his chest. Your mouth started to salivate at the sight.  Your hands moved up to help him, guiding your palms over the surface of his skin. Sylus let out a low sound, watching you as you made your way to his belt. He didn’t stop you as you undid the fasten. The sound of metal was loud in the room as it fell from its hold as Sylus pulled the belt and tossed it on the floor. 

His lips were on you again. Hungry, hot. You felt your breath be taken from your lungs as your hands were pinned above your head. His tongue pushing into your mouth, devouring you whole. He pulled away with a low growl, looking down at you, his eyes dark and his lips red from the kiss and the stain of your lipstick. 

“Roll over kitten.” Sylus purred as he let go of your hands and instantly you followed his direction. You felt the slick of your arousal as you moved, making your need even more known to you as you turned. Now with your ass to him, arched as your cheek laid against the pillow. You felt his fingers wrap under the lace of your panties, pulling them down to your knees. You looked over to him, your view obstructed but still managed to match his eyes. 

No words needed to be said, both of you needed the same exact thing and he wasn’t in a mood to tease you, at least not at the moment. His hands worked on his pants, letting them fall to the floor as he stood off of the bed, his boxers following. Your mouth watered, moaning into the pillow at the sight of him. Hard, dripping. His hand wrapped around his cock, pumping slowly as his thumb brushed against the angry red head. You felt your pussy clench as if trying to draw him in. He was beautiful. He didn’t even look human. No human could be this beautiful. 

As he climbed back onto the bed he wasted no time in positioning himself. He kissed your back, one hand on himself to adjust while the other was on your ass, sinking into the soft flesh. He kissed your back again before speaking into your ear, his voice was rough, deep.

“Remember our promise?” He whispered, his voice strained. Reminding you that you would use the safe word if you needed. You felt his tip slide against you, eager for the final confirmation. You nodded into the pillow, shifting your hips as you grinded against him. He groaned, the hand on your ass getting rougher as he held you still. 

He began to push into you slowly. You felt your body stretch to accommodate him, your moan loud as your body felt like electricity was pulsing through your veins at the feeling. Fuck he always felt so good. So thick, so heavy inside you. Your eyes rolled as he bottomed out his hands gently rubbing your back, your ass, the back of your thighs. He waited a moment, his breath strained as he tried to contain himself. But as he started to thrust it was a lost cause. 

You cried out moaning as he pulled out, thrusting back in. Your body shook as you felt him fuck you, his thrusts started to get faster the louder you moaned as if the sound of your cries edged him on, which was very much the case. You tightened around him, gasping as you felt his hand coming to rub against your clit, his rough thumb brushing the sensitive skin. 

“You sound so beautiful darling. Let me hear how you sound as you cum on my cock.” He purred in his ear. His voice sounded.. Different. Deeper somehow, more primal, needy. It drove you wild. You moaned gasping as you moved your body against him, fucking yourself on his cock while he pressed his thumb against you. You felt the sensation take over your body as Sylus hit that spot inside you that made you cry out and see stars. Your orgasm flowed through you as your pussy fluttered and clenched around him, pushing him to the brink as he filled you with his hot cum. 

You caught your breath, your forehead sticky with sweat as you felt your body tremble from the release. Sylus on the other hand, was still inside you. Cock hard, twitching as if he didn't just cum inside you. His hands gripped your hips, his lips moving to your back as he kissed your sweaty skin. You could hear his heart pounding, as fast as ever. 

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetie. That was a warmup.” He said as he started to thrust again, slowly at first. Your body shivered and moaned at the sudden movement, sensitive from your orgasm as he stated to fuck you. You felt his cum inside you, being fucked deeper. You blushed gasping, your head spinning with pleasure. 

As he fucked you, you swore his hands on your hips felt larger. His nails were digging into your skin as if they were talons. Not cutting into you, but more noticeable than before. You gasped, your mouth opening against the pillow, eyes widening as you whimpered. 

“Sylus!” You cried out as you felt your pussy stretch more than before. You felt his cock, which was already big and thick, get even bigger. The girth stretching you out more to the point your legs were shaking. You felt him hit places inside you you didn't even know existed. You felt tears fall from your eyes, sure it hurt a little but god you never felt so good in your life. You felt his tongue lick up your spine, long, thick. His mouth moved to your ear, sharp teeth nipping the skin. You could hear your heart pound. What was he? How did he become… like this? 

“Wow kitten, you took me so well.” Sylus purred. He wasn’t even moving yet and you were a whimpering crying mess. “I bet you love being stretched out on my cock like this, don’t you? I’m not even moving and it feels like you’re about to cum again.” He teased as you felt a rough, larger than normal thumb brush against your clit. “Careful, if you do, you might boost my ego. I could get addicted to this.”

Your head spun as you whimpered and moaned. You couldn’t see him. Even if you tried to turn, he was pressed against your back. But he wasn’t wrong. You were close. So agonizingly close that when he touched his thumb to that damn spot between your legs it was instant. You cried out, clenching around him and he hissed at the feeling. His cock twitched inside you as he felt you cum on his cock from nothing more than just being inside you. Filling you up completely. Stretching you to your limit to the point you weren’t sure if you’d be able to walk later. 

“Good girl. You’ve been such a good girl for me, haven’t you?” Sylus purred into your ear as he started to move. Your eyes widened as you cried out, hands clawing at the bedsheets as you felt how massive he truly had become now that he started moving. Your legs shook as you struggled to keep yourself propped up on your knees. His hands came to grab your hips as you whimpered and moaned mindlessly into the pillow. His hands felt so big, so strong. He had always been strong but this was different, otherworldly. He held you exactly how and where he wanted you as he began to fuck into you. Your body bounced and shook as if you were a ragdoll. 

“That’s it, sweetie, just like that. You’re a perfect little slut for me, aren’t you. Taking anything I give you, no matter how big. You’ll stretch your tight little pussy for me, won’t you?” Sylus growled in your ear and you gasped, eyes rolling back at his words. You couldn’t control the sounds coming from your lips, or the drool that spilled out onto the silk pillowcase. You couldn’t stop the loud needy whimper at the things he said to you. His nails pressed into your soft flesh as he continued to ravish you. 

His thrusts started to get unsteady as he panted, one hand groping your ass as the other curled into your hair, turning your face for him to kiss you. His long tongue forced its way into your mouth, his teeth were sharper but it felt more like fangs now that you could feel him better. You opened your eyes for a second, catching a glimpse to see that he looked normal. As he pulled away and opened his eyes though, you noticed how both eyes were glowing red. It looked like orbs of the red mist of his Evol flowing inside his eyes. It was beautiful. If you weren’t getting your brains fucked out you would have more time to appreciate it. 

The hand returned between your thighs, drawing circles against your sensitive nub. As he felt you twitch and whimper, his hand continued until he pulled another orgasm out of you. Your scream was muffled by the pillow but the sound made him take in a sharp breath. Even when he was like this, the sounds you made affected him more than you could ever know. You felt as his cock twitched, his thrusted uneven before he came inside you. The feeling was different than before. It was thicker and it felt like there was more than usual. You gasped, moaning as you felt him thrust a few more times, the thick globs of cum running down your thighs. 

Slowly, you felt him begin to pull out. Your body was too weak and tired to turn around and look at him but that was the last thing on your mind right now. You didn’t care what form he took. He was still yours. And you were still his. You felt him shift around you, his arms pulling you into his chest as he kissed your head. The smell of him flooded your senses as a sense of calm you never felt before came over you. 

His hands were so gentle as he carefully checked for marks and scratches. You felt a warm cloth on your thighs. A cold bottle of water pressed to your lips. You opened your mouth and the bottle tipped so gently. His hands were still on you, gently touching and caressing you. As you opened your eyes gently you saw the oh so familiar black and red mist surrounding you. Cleaning you, giving you water. You felt a kiss on the top of your head as Sylus pulled you closer. 

“Relax, kitten. You’ll need to recover. I’ll take care of everything.”

~•~•~•~

some people on my post asked to be tagged or really seemed to want this so here u guys go i hope you dont mind the tag

@lunacielooo @in-too-deepspace @sefynarose

[ayeforscotland]

What is Dataflow?

This post is inspired by another post about the Crowd Strike IT disaster and a bunch of people being interested in what I mean by Dataflow. Dataflow is my absolute jam and I'm happy to answer as many questions as you like on it. I even put referential pictures in like I'm writing an article, what fun!

I'll probably split this into multiple parts because it'll be a huge post otherwise but here we go!

A Brief History

Our world is dependent on the flow of data. It exists in almost every aspect of our lives and has done so arguably for hundreds if not thousands of years.

At the end of the day, the flow of data is the flow of knowledge and information. Normally most of us refer to data in the context of computing technology (our phones, PCs, tablets etc) but, if we want to get historical about it, the invention of writing and the invention of the Printing Press were great leaps forward in how we increased the flow of information.

Modern Day IT exists for one reason - To support the flow of data.

Whether it's buying something at a shop, sitting staring at an excel sheet at work, or watching Netflix - All of the technology you interact with is to support the flow of data.

Understanding and managing the flow of data is as important to getting us to where we are right now as when we first learned to control and manage water to provide irrigation for early farming and settlement.

Engineering Rigor

When the majority of us turn on the tap to have a drink or take a shower, we expect water to come out. We trust that the water is clean, and we trust that our homes can receive a steady supply of water.

Most of us trust our central heating (insert boiler joke here) and the plugs/sockets in our homes to provide gas and electricity. The reason we trust all of these flows is because there's been rigorous engineering standards built up over decades and centuries.

For example, Scottish Water will understand every component part that makes up their water pipelines. Those pipes, valves, fitting etc will comply with a national, or in some cases international, standard. These companies have diagrams that clearly map all of this out, mostly because they have to legally but also because it also vital for disaster recovery and other compliance issues.

Modern IT

And this is where modern day IT has problems. I'm not saying that modern day tech is a pile of shit. We all have great phones, our PCs can play good games, but it's one thing to craft well-designed products and another thing entirely to think about they all work together.

Because that is what's happened over the past few decades of IT. Organisations have piled on the latest plug-and-play technology (Software or Hardware) and they've built up complex legacy systems that no one really knows how they all work together. They've lost track of how data flows across their organisation which makes the work of cybersecurity, disaster recovery, compliance and general business transformation teams a nightmare.

Some of these systems are entirely dependent on other systems to operate. But that dependency isn't documented. The vast majority of digital transformation projects fail because they get halfway through and realise they hadn't factored in a system that they thought was nothing but was vital to the organisation running.

And this isn't just for-profit organisations, this is the health services, this is national infrastructure, it's everyone.

There's not yet a single standard that says "This is how organisations should control, manage and govern their flows of data."

Why is that relevant to the companies that were affected by Crowd Strike? Would it have stopped it?

Maybe, maybe not. But considering the global impact, it doesn't look like many organisations were prepared for the possibility of a huge chunk of their IT infrastructure going down.

Understanding dataflows help with the preparation for events like this, so organisations can move to mitigate them, and also the recovery side when they do happen. Organisations need to understand which systems are a priority to get back operational and which can be left.

The problem I'm seeing from a lot of organisations at the moment is that they don't know which systems to recover first, and are losing money and reputation while they fight to get things back online. A lot of them are just winging it.

Conclusion of Part 1

Next time I can totally go into diagramming if any of you are interested in that.

How can any organisation actually map their dataflow and what things need to be considered to do so. It'll come across like common sense, but that's why an actual standard is so desperately needed!

[lexilovestom]

SILENT TREATMENT

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

— in which: Tom and Y/n go shopping at the mall and he keeps annoying her as a joke, only to make it up to her when they get home ;)

⌞ contains: smut, some angst, fluff, kitchen sex, annoying ass y/n 🤪 (like fr i wanna smack her in the face at times- ANYWAYS) ⌝

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

— Y/n's pov

Tom and I are at a huge home furnishings store that recently opened in our town, and we're looking for some new cookware. I pretty much had to beg him to take me here since he doesn't really like shopping, especially for pots and pans. But I told him that, since it's a new store, we could look around and find some cool gadgets and stuff we both might like. And that pretty much convinced him.

The only thing is, he's been annoying and embarrassing me in front of everyone the whole time. I don't know what got to him, but I'm definitely not liking it.

It started with an innocent joke by "accidentally" banging a pot on my head with a little 'whoops! sorry Y/n, didn't see you there', but it quickly turned into different jokes about our private life that made people turn their heads in our direction. No matter how many times I told him to stop and laughed it off, he just kept going and going to the point the jokes became a little too intrusive and repetitive for my likings.

I know it's something he does when he's bored, and it's just his humor, but enough is enough at some point.

"Y/n are you done?" Tom whines on a patio chair in the middle of the store while I look at some outdoor decor.

I turn to his direction and find him pretty much laying on it with his legs spread. I tilt my head and drop my arms in disappointment, "are you really this exhausted?"

"Hell yeah, Y/n! it's almost 8:00pm and I'm starving! even the store is closing down!" he exclaims. I look at him frustrated, "k, let's check out and go." I start walking away as I hear Tom following behind me. I've been pretty quiet and cold towards him, and i think he finally got the message.

We're now in line and I can feel him looking down at me with a small smirk on his lips. I turn to him "what", "why are you maddd!! I was just joking!" he chuckles to lighten up the tension, but I don't give in.

"You're embarrassing me! it's not funny" I say whisper yelling as he bites his lip and smacks my ass multiple times lightly. I gasp and smack his hand away, "Tom stop! there's people behind!" he laughs. "Asshole."

He then leans closer to my ear, "these white jeans are driving me crazy you know?" he smirks as it's now our turn to check out, "oh my god please shut up and walk ahead." I roll my eyes as he chuckles once again.

Said that we pay for everything, walk out the store as Tom puts his right arm around my shoulders and head home. The car ride was pretty much silent, even if Tom was singing along to Dr Dre's debut album on the radio. He even offered to open the car door for me like a gentleman.

— time skip

Tom is sitting at the dinner table as I place down the ceramic plate containing some vegetables and a schnitzel. Halfway through our meal he suddenly speaks up, "so...will you talk to me again now?" I look at him, "i haven't decided yet."

"You just did!" he chuckles as I give him a death stare for about 2 seconds.

"Y/n come on! i was just joking! why do you have to take it so seriously!? plus, people around us could care less about what we do. They weren't even looking!"

"Yes they were, Tom! they were giving very weird looks and you know how much i feel judged in public already!!" he leans his back on his chair. "I appreciate when you mess with me, but today you took it a little too far in my opinion" I break. Tom's expression becomes so unreadable to the point I can't figure out whether he's confused or sorry. But I hear him exhale through his nose in defeat. He's in no mood to discuss and i understand.

After a while we finish our meals and, as Tom leaves to our bedroom, i stay in the kitchen to wash the dishes.

The house is dark, and the only light on is from the under cabinets of the kitchen. Everything's quiet and the only form of noise is the running water from the sink and the clinking dishes.

I'm thinking about how i might have overreacted over Tom messing with me at the store this evening. Even if he made me genuinely mad, he was just doing it for fun and i took it very personally, in the end...

All of a sudden, as my thoughts come to me in a rush, I hear footsteps coming down the staircase. I stiffen as I obviously know who it is.

Tom sneaks quietly near the kitchen island, I can feel his eyes burning at the back of my figure as I continue to wash the dishes. He's just standing there, looking at me. What's he doing?

He lets out a sigh and gets behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and placing his head in the crook of my neck. "Will you talk to me now?" he repeatedly presses small pecks on my bare cheek.

As much as I want to, I stand my ground and completely ignore him. He murmurs a small 'hm?' before he shakes me side to side as he tickles me, "are you gonna give in?"

I then let out a giggle as he knows I can't stay mad at him for too long. Tom lifts his head up and smiles, "ohh! is that a chuckle I heard?!" he shakes me again before I let out another laugh at the movement.

"Look look look! that's my girl!" he laughs. "Come on baby, you know I don't like seeing you like this." I place the last plate I was washing down and feel Tom spinning me to face him by my hips.

"I'm sorry i made you uncomfortable, you know that's the last thing I wanna do to you." He looks me in the eyes and I can see nothing but sincerity and sorrow in them. I take a deep breath, break eye contact and then look back at him, "apology accepted," I smile faintly as Tom returns the favor. "I'm sorry I reacted that way."

"You have nothing to be sorry about, liebe. Don't even think about it." He whispers as I nod slowly, getting lost in his iris.

Our faces are now inches apart and we both slowly lean in to fill the gap between us. The kiss is soft and comforting, but it escalates quickly after I wrap my arms around his neck to deepen it.

Tom holds me tight to him, and as we passionately make out, I feel a sudden burning sensation in between my legs. He then goes down to my neck, softly kissing and sucking on my g spot, making me whimper lightly, before coming back up to my lips.

He begins to take my pyjamas shirt off, tossing it somewhere on the kitchen floor, and stares at my cleavage for a few seconds before taking one of my breasts in his hand and start playing with it. Lowering his other hand down my back and onto my ass, giving it a good typical squeeze.

I sneak my hand near his already hardened crotch, making him whimper with my slow movements. "Hold on, schatzi. I wanna make it up to you" he whispers on my lips before pressing his back on mine.

Tom then takes his shirt off and picks me up, placing me on the counter. As he's standing in between my legs I touch his defined torso before getting interrupted by him pulling my shorts and panties off at the same time.

He immediately slides his hand down my heat, "so wet for me already? wow, schatzi, you really can't resist me, can you?"

I whimper as a response as he begins tracing circles on my area. I spread my legs wider at his touch and can't help but bite my lip to avoid any loud noises to escape my mouth.

Tom stops and pulls his pants down, his cock springing up the second he does. He then takes it in his hands, pumps it a couple times and proceeds to look at me. "Can I, liebe?"

I nod as he slowly puts it in my throbbing core, making a moan escape my mouth. He starts moving into me as i grip on the sides of the counter, his hips buckling back and forth at a slow pace for me to get used to his size.

We move in sync while his hands come up to my hips for support. Groans, whimpers and little compliments start filling the room as Tom suddenly quickens his pace, making me audibly moan and push my head back.

"Fuck!" i manage to let out as Tom's eyes burn on mine. His gaze and features so strong while he pounds into me. I grab his face and kiss him as I pull him onto me, my back touching the cold granite counter while he leans on my weak body.

As Tom continues to move into me, I'm starting to feel a familiar knot in my stomach. "T-Tom I'm close" I whine, "hold it a little longer, baby. You're doing so good."

My hands, once again, grip the counter. Sweat glistening from both our foreheads, panting escaping our mouths, the loud sound of our skin clapping. Everything is just sending nothing but ecstasy up my body, and as my mind is foggy I hear Tom's raspy voice "do it, schatz. Come for me."

After a few more thrusts, I moan out Tom's name as I release all over him. Waves of pleasure washing over me as I throw my head back while Tom gently kisses my neck to overstimulate me.

"Look at you, screaming my name when just 10 minutes ago you wouldn't even talk to me." He whispers in my ear. I roll my eyes back at his words, "this is the effect I have on you, hm?"

After some slow movements, Tom picks up his pace again, this time harder and more possessively. Groans escape his mouth as I'm a moaning mess under him. In a matter of seconds he releases into me, panting and falling limb on my trembling body, breathing heavily on my shoulder as he peppers it with kisses.

I lift his head with my index finger under his chin and kiss him softly. He slides out of me, cum dripping from my hole.

"Holy shit" I breathe out, Tom sighs and chuckles at the same time as he passes a hand over his forehead to dry some sweat. Admiring his work coming out of me.

"You don't actually think this is it, right?" he looks me in the eyes. "Go upstairs, I'll meet you there in a second, prinzessin." he smirks as I jump off the counter, smiling, and make my way to our bedroom.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

sorry for disappearing guys 😭 sorry if this is kinda ass ngl, but I still hope you liked it lmaoo 🥹 also, I didn't reread this so excuse any spelling mistakes. Make sure to send image requests! I would love to put my spin on your ideas 💕 byee! ♡

[totallyhextra]

People? In MY computer?? It's more likely than you think!

The following is a fanvertisment and is not connected to the show. ****Yet.*** *Also yes, this is the fourth time I'm posting this because TUMBLR WONT LET ME EDIT SPELLING MISTAKES!

ANYWAY,

Once upon a time, back in 1987, Dire Straits put out this music video for “Money for Nothing”, which, as you know, was a song about wanting my MTV. 

The video was made by two guys (Gavin Blair and Ian Pearson) on a very moody computer. After the video went out, these two guys went to a pub:

Ian: “Hey, we should make a whole show like this!”

Gavin: “Dude, making three minutes almost killed us.”

And so it was decided!🎉

The two guys were joined by two other guys (Phil Mitchell and John Grace) and created the Hub, which then became Mainframe Entertainment. They got even more people, and then they all holed up in this hotel.

They were mad lads with a dream: a whole cgi animated show, and they made it happen a whole year before Toy Story!

Behold! ReBoot!

(Yes that fever dream was real)

Now before I get any of this:

Let me lay this down. If you can’t with the animation of the first season because it was CUTTING EDGE IN 1994, you can close your eyes and listen to it. ReBoot wasn’t just a CGI gimmick. The characters are fully developed, the voice actors are peerless, the plot is sharp, and there’s so many easter eggs that you’ll never find them all.

Never

(And yes the episode "Bad Bob" was the actual catalyst for Fury Road. Look it up)

ReBoot is about what life is like in a computer (in the 90s, because it was the 90s) called Mainframe (because of course it is). People are sprites, the guys that look like 1s and 0s are binomes (which represent 1s and 0s). Bad guys are viruses, and the good guy is a Guardian named Bob, who is a certified cinnamon roll.

In the first season the eps are light and self-contained, mainly because there was constant friction between the Mainframe studios and the Board of Standards and Practices.

They still got away with some pretty dark stuff, like Megabyte (virus) making Enzo (the kid) watch his dog get sliced open (dog got away, obviously) , Dot (sprite) have a hallucinatory breakdown, and the fridge horror of realizing the thousands of worm things (nulls) that plunged off a bridge to their death were actually people.

And Hex's (virus

best girl) scary face single-handedly traumatized an entire generation. 🙂

But busting through a window was a no go, because WhAt If tHe cHiLdReN dID iT tOo?

Anyway, halfway through the second season, ABC cut them loose, so they were like, fuck it, we’re going to start going hard. The story shifted from episodic to arcs and things start to get serious.

Third season the show moved to YTV in Canada, which gave no fucks about shielding the innocent children.

So it got DARK

How dark?

The UK refused to show the entire season, so the audience there had to wait until pirated copies made it across the pond to see how it ended.

Also by 1997, the animation was gorgeous. (Best example of third season animation I could think of that didn't have spoilers)

The show was green-lit for a fourth season on Cartoon Network, but halfway through production Warner Bros took over and the same fucking thing happened.

Because Mainframe was halfway done, they decided not to scrap all of it, but knowing they wouldn't be able to finish it correctly, Mainframe stripped anything that would hint at Season Four's true ending, then left what remained on a cliff-hanger of angst.

FOR 22 YEARS

(It's also why the last four eps of season four seem to make no sense)

And so it was.

Other crap happened, the soul left Mainframe, and its animated corpse spat out “The Guardian Code” in 2018. 

But never say die! The year is (almost) 2024, 30 years later. ReBoot shall rise from the dead, because here come the documentary!!

Do you dare see what you’ve been missing?

What the (UK) government doesn’t want you to know?? 

Then come on down to ReBoot!

We got:

Magnificent bastards with sexy voices!

(Tony Jay at his best)

Kickass women who could probably crush your head with their thighs and you’d enjoy it!

Innuendos in a kid's show!

💗 This adorable cinnamon roll!! 💗

Insane third season glow-ups!

YOUR NEW GOD

These guys!

(Gay roller-skating binome is my boi. I named him Jerry)

Nonstop cultural refs (You'll never find them all. Never.)

(There are literally videos dedicated to trying)

So many computer puns!

Body Horror!

Existential Crisis!

HAVE I MENTIONED YOUR NEW GOD?

This is it, folks! The real thing, the gem hidden in the moose-filled forests of Canadia!🌲🌲🌲

Take a trip inside a mid-90’s computer!

See the World Wide Web! (omg):

Witness the original purple Gamecubes that randomly fall from the sky when the owner of the computer (OUR GOOD LORD THE USER) wants to play a game. If it lands on people and they lose, they dissolve into mindless energy leeches, fated to tormented by their former bretheren for all of eternity.

Just like in real life! 🙃

So watch the eps! They on YouTube!

I think they're on Pluto, Hulu, Sling, and Tubi too! Also DVDs for people who have the patience to wait for them!

WATCH! BELIEVE! SUFFER THE SOUL-CRUSHING RAGE OF THE SEASON 4 CLIFF-HANGER!* (come on, its fun!)*

HYPE THE DOC!

The more people hype, the better the chances of actually getting it finished.

NOW SHARE THIS WITH EVERYONE!

And now I will leave you with this screenshot from the ep "Painted Windows", where dicks can clearly be seen drawn upon the wall behind the fleeing anthropomorphized television.

(PS: If you heard the clown pic at the top of the page in your head, you're welcome)

IMPORTANT UPDATE

This message is now approved by Gavin Blair! He's an awesome guy. Show him some love on TWITTER (fuck you musk) at @TheRealMrSweary Also, if you want to share this with non-tumblr friends, here is my attempt at a webpage version:

theseventhstarprojects.com/REBOOT.html

[goldfades]

adam fantilli has a size kink

✮"𝐥𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬!", adam fantilli

♡ ─ word count | 700 words

♡ ─ warnings | unedited, pure nsfw under the cut! lots of teasing, size kink (who woulda thought?), just filthy smut LMAO

♡ ─ taglist |

♡ ─ ev's notes | THANK YOU CELESTE, SIZE KINK AND ADAM WILL NEVER FAIL TO MAKE ME SCREAM! also as we all have figured out, i'm terrible with titles so let's just pretend that it's a good one. i'm not gonna lie i don't know if i did this any justice, this is straight up filth i forgot to incorporate a lot of size kink in there LOL. none the less it's an adam fic, y'all should be grateful bc we are all living off CRUMBS.

Adam's hand laid right on top of your bare stomach, admiring your body. You were laying on your back as Adam watched your carefully, slowly drawing circles on your stomach. His hand almost covers the entirety of your stomach and no matter how long you'd been dating, it will never not turn him on.

"Fuck, princess." Adam breathed out as he gazed at your body, his eyes settling on your pretty face. "You're beautiful."

His hand left your soft and you let out a whimper of disapproval, you needed his touch now. "Shh, it's okay baby. Give me a second."

He spread your legs further and quickly settled in between them and you watched him through your lashes, becoming more desperate by the second. "Please, Adam." You whined.

"I know baby, I know. Just wanna take my time with my pretty girl, gonna make you feel so good." He spoke softly but it went one in and out the other, you wanted him to fuck you stupid, now.

You were soaking wet already and Adam had barely touched you, you'd be embarrassed if you weren't so desperate. He had already stretched you out with his fingers so you would be able to take him and now, you were just waiting for him to hurry up and fuck you.

Finally, as if he had read your mind, Adam grabbed his cock and let out a groan, his head falling back. He was so painfully hard, his pink tip leaking pre-cum as he gave himself a few pumps.

He led his cock slowly into you, stretching you out perfectly. You gripped the sheets, your cunt burning at the sensation. He let out a sigh of relief as he entered you, making you clench around him. He wasn't even halfway inside you yet and you already felt completely full.

"Can't take it," you mumbled out non-coherently, your mind being completely on Adam and the way he was making you feel.

"Have a little more trust baby, you can take it." He groaned as he moved your legs up on his shoulders, then put one of his hands on your hips, the other going to clutch your hand. "You got it, sweetheart."

He slowly bottomed you out, making you squirm under him. You felt him all the way in your stomach as he held himself there for a few seconds, letting adjust. You couldn't help but whine under him, gripping his hand. Adam looked down and saw the bulge right in your lower stomach, he immediately moved his hand on top of it and pushed down softly, making you arch.

"Adam!" You moaned out in pleasure, your eyes beginning to tear up from all teasing he'd done previously.

"Doing so good for me, baby. So fucking good." Adam kneeled down and gave you a sloppy kiss before he started to fuck into you, swallowing all yours moans, your head falling back in utter pleasure.

As he fucked you into the mattress, your legs had already began to shake on his shoulders from the impact. You couldn't even think straight, you didn't have anything in your head right now; you were only here, in this present moment.

"Told ya you can take it, baby." He groaned as he thrusted into you, his hands on your hips, pushing you down into the mattress. "Good fucking girl," he punctuated with each thrust.

He missed you so much, with being gone so often now he barely had time for you so he had to make sure anytime he'd gotten with you, he puts it to good use. He couldn't even focus, you were so warm and fit him perfectly, he was convinced you were made for him.

His once calculated and deep thrusts turned messy and sporadic but you didn't care, it felt so fucking good. It felt like the whole room was shaking at the impact as he kept fucking you into the mattress.

You felt the pressure in your lower stomach build up and it finally snapped, hitting you like ton of bricks. Your whole body spasmed as you let out a borderline pornographic moan, gripping Adam's hand as a way to ground yourself. He came as soon as you did, spilling into you. He immediately fell down on top of you, breathing heavily.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[hier--soir]

high strung

abby anderson x f!reader

pairing: abby anderson x personal trainer wlf f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: abby has seemed distracted in your sessions as of late. when you discover why, you help to ease some of her tension. warnings/tags: some tight little workout shorts, abby "i'm not gay" anderson has her first experience with a woman, r insert is a trainer but has zero physical descriptions, massage, gay panic, smut, fingering & oral [abby receiving], reference to masturbation [reader], brief mention of other wlf characters from tlou2, brief owen slander lol sorry. word count: 3.5k masterlist a/n: considering abby isn't explicitly queer in tlou2, i wanted to write a short n sharp little bisexual awakening for her. bit of a quick build up but idc i don't know anything about the gym and wanted to get to the gay sex lol, hope you enjoy!

She’s wearing these tight little shorts. Pale blue. So thin they’re almost sheer where they wrap around the bulkiest points of her thighs.  

You don’t look, don’t let your eyes roam over the reedy material, don’t glance down when she bends her knees and drops into a squat. Don’t don’t don’t. Don’t even look when she lays out on the bench, flat on her back, and those shorts bunch and pinch in the crevice where her legs meet her hips. No, you’re well-versed in this now. Adept at not looking.

“Show me ten,” you tap the bar once.

Abby grips the barbell. The skin of her knuckles turns a piercing white as her fingers flex and tighten around the metal. Ninety pounds on either end, and yet she lifts it off the rack with a practiced sort of ease. You feel a familiar rush of pride as she moves effortlessly through the first few reps, her breathing calm—relaxed. Your hands hover, useless, in the air over the bar. Ready to step in if you’re needed, but knowing that you won’t be.

The gym at the base is usually crowded. Sweat covered surfaces, muscle tanks in every conceivable direction, and plenty of shirtless assholes that think they own the place. But this morning you hit the jackpot, arriving early in the morning when there’s only a few others milling around.

“That’s it,” you mutter. “Good, good, give me another one.”

You notice it slowly. The same way it happened last week, and the week before that. The gradual progression; a tilting, wavering, descent into mistakes, into heavy breathing, into distraction. From behind her head, you watch her knees raise a little, feet arched until she’s balanced on her tip-toes, the muscles in her thighs straining.

Her fingers loosen a little around the bar. Grip faltering, failing. A muscle in her forearm flexes and spasms beneath the skin.

“Hey,” you warn, hands darting forward to rest on the metal. “Come on, we’re not even halfway done.”  

Abby doesn’t offer up a response. Doesn’t meet your eyes. She simply huffs out a breath of exertion and presses the bar upward again. Beads of sweat glisten along her forehead, snatching at wisps of loose blonde hair and pinning them to pale skin.

“Good,” you commend, fingers hovering featherlight. But then it happens again. Her face twitches, lips pursing, and she grunts. A low, frustrated sound.

“Abby,” you sigh. She allows you to grip the bar, and together you lift it back into the groove on the rack. “Are you hungover again?”

“No,” she scowls. She sits up and wipes a reddened hand across her face. There’s a patch of sweat on the back of her shirt, and the darkened material clings to her spine.

“Then what’s the problem?” you arch an eyebrow. When she doesn’t turn to look at you, you walk around to stand directly in front of her. “Manny keeping you up at night? Burnt out? What?”  

“No,” she repeats, and this time you think you catch a flash of irritation. Something angry, something heated, rolling beneath the surface of her skin, begging to be expelled.

And you’ve seen the way she can lash out. Seen how people cower and shrink beneath her steely gaze when she’s mad. Quickly, easily, you decide you’d rather not spend your morning getting chewed out for being nosy.

“Listen,” you say. “Why don’t we call it for the day? We ca—”

“I’m fine,” Abby asserts firmly. But the hard set of her jaw and the tension in her shoulders hints otherwise.

You watch her snatch a water bottle off the ground and tilt it against her mouth. Watch the way she drinks in long, hurried gulps. Watch the way her throat bobs as she swallows. Watch a dribble of water snake down her chin, her neck. Don’t.

You look away.

“You’re distracted,” you retort with an eyeroll. “If you hurt yourself in here Isaac will have my ass.”

She shakes her head and mutters something under her breath. A broad hand pushes the hair back off her face, mussing it behind her ears, and then she meets your eye.

“I’m just…” she trails off and glances away. Clears her throat a little. “I’m feeling a little tense, okay? Everyday I’m either in here, or Isaac has me out scouting some fucking Scar hot spot, and I’m exhausted, and my legs are fucking killing me.”

You feel your face soften, mouth tilting down into a sympathetic frown.

“I get it,” you nod. “Hey, I’m sorry, I know I push you pretty hard in here—”

“It’s not—” Abby shakes her head again. “You’re not the problem.”

You don’t know what to say to that. For a moment the two of you rest in a wary silence. Listen to the sounds of people working out around you; muted grunts of exertion, the spouted praise from spotters standing close by. You notice the way she flinches when someone racks a weight a little too aggressively – a little too loud.

“Let’s go in the back,” you suggest easily, already turning away. “We’ll do some physio; I’ll help with the knots in your legs.”

It’s a simple routine once you get her onto the massage table. Tucked away in a back room, door closed, her shoes off, you can set to work without so much distraction.

You start with her calves. Using the palms of your hands, the pads of your thumbs, you rub against the tightly coiled muscles there. Working out any knots that you find, any hidden strains. Moving slowly, purposefully, working your way up until you hit her thighs. And that’s where the tension becomes evident.

It seems like Abby is in pain as you dig your thumbs into her outer thigh. Her face is all screwed up, eyes closed as soft little grunts slip from her mouth. When you find a particularly tight knot and press she spits a low curse, eyes clamping shut and face turning to the side.

“You doin’ okay?” you check in, eyebrows furrowed as you watch the way she squirms and wriggles around on the table – as if she’s shying away from your touch. As if it’s too much for her. “I’m really not pressing that hard, Abby.”

“It’s good,” she chokes out. “Keep going.”

You continue with a sigh, crackling your knuckles before using both hands to work at the muscle in her upper thigh.

“Jesus,” you sigh. Your palm rolls over her quadricep, working to release the built-up rigidity there. “You’re so tense.”

“Sorry,” Abby grits out, voice hoarse and stilted as it sneaks its way out past her teeth. It’s like she’s holding her breath, the way sharp exhales rush from her nose every few seconds.

“It’s fine,” you assure her. Your fingers press against her knee, and you push it up towards her chest until her thigh is pressed against her stomach. Stretch out the muscles there, let her feel the pull, the burn as her knots loosen. “Do you need—oh.”

Because you look down and the words get caught in your throat. Musing caught like a mouse in a trap, your mouth suddenly feels like sandpaper. And you were always so good at not looking, never looking. But now… you’re almost glad you looked. Because there’s a damp splotch on the front of her shorts, shades darker than the rest of the fabric. Right in the crevice between her thighs, where the inseam of those tight fucking shorts rests against her mound.

It must be sweat, you think. It has to be. But when you look at her face you notice how flushed she is. See the blotches of deep red that stain the skin on her neck, her cheeks, and you know it’s not sweat. She’s wet.

Your hands freeze in place, keeping her leg pinned to her chest.

Abby says your name quietly, and there’s something urgent in it – a panicked tone to her voice that makes your stomach tighten.

“Is this why you’ve been so distracted?” you ask. Your mouth is dry, lips chapped as you look between her face and that spot between her thighs. Back and forth, over and over. Your fingers tense against her thigh, and the skin there is so soft. “You’re…”

“I’m not,” she rushes, face almost entirely pink now.

“It’s okay,” you soothe quietly, thumb starting up a slow movement against her flesh. Soft, small circles. And you know you must look calm – but on the inside there’s a hot, wet feeling lashing out against the inside of your stomach. “Is that because of me? S’that why you’ve been so distracted in our sessions lately?”

Abby turns her face, tucking her chin into her shoulder in attempt to hide her blush. You lower her leg back onto the massage bed. “I don—I don’t know why I’m…”

“Abby,” you laugh softly. Your palm is flat against her thigh now, fingers twitching – itching to explore. “It’s okay.”

“I’m not…” she grimaces.

“Not what?” you hum, and you’re playing with the hem of her shorts now. Curling around the thin fabric, rubbing it between your fingertips. “Do you… will you let me help?”  

Her eyes widen at the suggestion, and you feel the way her thighs tense beneath your touch. Pressing together, almost squirming at the thought of it. When she doesn’t respond, doesn’t say no, your fingers creep higher. They tuck around the waistband of her shorts and tug once, testing the waters. Again, she says nothing. Those heady blue eyes stare at your face, pink lips parting as her breathing grows heavier.

“Abby?” you urge.

“Yeah,” she breathes, and it sounds almost like a question.

Her eyes turn glassy as she watches you, and then her hips cant ever so slightly upward on the bed. An invitation.

Smiling, you peel the material of her shorts down slowly, but you don’t look. Not yet, not even as you drop the material onto the ground. Don’t look even when there’s so much white in your vision. A field of creamy skin, begging to be seen. Your thighs press together, skin hot, the muscles in your stomach tightening as you notice that she’s sweating again.

“I’m not gay,” Abby says then. So quiet, so cautious.

Your smile only grows, and you nod. Kind. Understanding. “I know,” you whisper. “I get it.” And you do.

You’ve been in her shoes before; confused, unsure. Young and always wondering why you felt so on edge around the pretty girls in those tight uniforms they liked to wear around the base. Always pretending you didn’t think about the way their clothes moulded against their chests, their thighs, as you lay in bed at night, hand stuffed inside your underwear. Never admitting to yourself that you wanted to see underneath – to see their skin; touch it, taste it.

“I get it,” you repeat, hand stilling at her hip. “But I need to hear you say you want it.”

You ruck up her shirt. Just a little, just so it rests above the dip of her belly button, and you can see the rolling hills of her abdomen. You admire the muscles there, the way they rise and fall with each laboured breath. Abs that lead to a hardened v-shape which only encourages wandering eyes to look down down down.

Her skin is pale, and you can see the elaborate network of blue veins that spread out beneath it like spiderwebs. Lifelines, pulsing with desire. For you.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” you offer, and she nods slowly, seemingly grateful for the assurance. “I’ll help you out… just have a little taste, okay?”

“Fuck,” she mutters, head tilting back against the bed. “Fuck, I didn’t realise you were—I want you to—yes.”

Finally, you look down at her underwear—heather grey with a tiny hole near the band and a dark wet patch on the front—and ask breathlessly, “When’s the last time you had sex?”

“I don’t know,” she exhales. “A few months maybe.”

“You’re so fucking wet,” you tsk under your breathe, shaking your head a little. You can see a soft thatch of curls peeking out the side of her underwear. Saliva pools in your mouth.

“When did you?” she asks.

“Last week.”

“With who?”

“Lyla,” you admit. Your hand is on her stomach now, tracing the indents of her muscles. Fingering every freckle painted across her skin, feeling the way her belly expands with every shuddering breath. “We’d had a few drinks. It wasn’t the first time.”

“Lyla?” Abby scoffs, eyes darting down to watch your fingers. “From the infirmary? Lyla’s not gay.”

“Sure,” you hum, a teasing lilt to your voice. “And neither are you, right?”

That shuts her up quick.

You climb onto the table slowly, careful not to jostle her legs too much. But they splay easily, spreading open for you to fit between. Murmuring gratefully, you look up to see her watching you.

“You do this with everyone you train?” she asks, voice breaking when your index finger snags against the band of her underwear. “Work them to the bone and then…”

“And then?” you smirk, eyebrows raised.

“And then fuck them?” she gasps. Her hands are tense by her sides, fingers curled around the edge of the table.

You bare your teeth at her and shake your head, slowly lowering until your lips meet the skin at her hip.

“Not all of them,” you breathe against her skin, marvelling at the way her frame trembles beneath you.

Unwilling to waste another second, you lick a stripe up the front of her underwear. Taste cotton and sweat and slick. Your touch is painfully light. So gentle that you wonder if she even felt it. But then she gasps – a sharp, breathy sound that has molten heat pooling between your own thighs, and you smile. Gotcha. Her legs lock up on either side of you.

“Relax,” you whisper, and settle a hand on her thigh. Rub slowly there, pressing your fingers in gently to release the strain in her muscles. “Do you want me to stop? I can stop if you don’t want this.” 

“Please,” Abby says quietly. More desperate than you’ve ever heard her sound. “Do it, please.”

“I will,” you tell her. Smile reassuringly and squeeze her thigh.

When you finally get your mouth on her, no more barriers between your tongue and the wet cut of her cunt, you’re a little mean about it. You tease her clit. Tickle your tongue around it, underneath it, never quite touching, just showing that you know exactly where it is, exactly where she wants to be touched. You use your fingers to spread her open, pressing back her folds until you can see the full spread of her; pink and glistening for you.

The taste of her is salty and heady and soon enough you can’t help swiping the flat of your tongue against her clit, and revelling in the stuttered moan that swells out of her.

“Fuck,” she sighs. “Keep doing that.”

You roll your tongue against it in circles, side-to-side, changing up the rhythm whenever you fear she might have gotten used to the feeling. Spell out your name with the tip of your tongue, and then hers. Spell out words in your own language, one that you’re fluent in and want so desperately to teach her. Like this, your tongue on her clit, is a religion, and you’re a modest missionary sent to spread the gospel.

She makes the most gorgeous sounds. High pitched, breathy moans that burst out of her and have you wishing you could touch yourself. Just slip your fingers past the band of your panties, to where you know you'd be dripping-- No. Not yet, not now. This is about her, you remind yourself.

When you take her between your lips and suck, she cries out. A hoarse, rasping shout of your name that only makes you suck harder.

“Oh my god,” Abby mumbles, voice awed, surprised. “Oh—oh fuck, oh my god.”

Lowering your tongue, you press it against her weeping hole. Taste the slick that pools there, waiting for you to drink it down, and feel a moment of sympathy for her. You wonder if Owen ever touched her like this. If he ever made her feel this good. And as the muscles in her thighs tighten and one of her hands falls against the back of your head, fingers lacing through your hair, you know he didn’t. 

“I think I’m gonna—” she gasps, hips bucking against your face. You can feel her slick on your chin, your cheeks, your nose. You lick her clit again in slow, firm circles. “Fuck, I think I’m gonna come.”

You press a finger inside of her, slowly stretching out her tight hole. Give her something to bear down on when she comes. And when she does come, it’s intense. Her fingers tighten in your hair, winding around the strands and tugging as she presses your face harder against her pussy. Your nose presses into the light curls on her mound and you groan, inhaling her sweet, musky scent.

“Fuuuck,” she gasps, the word catching in her throat. You open your eyes and watch the way her abdomen tightens, every muscle in her body going taut. Watch the way her eyes clamp shut, mouth hanging open as she gasps and moans and mumbles beneath her breath. “Fuck, don’t stop. Your tongue, oh my god don’t—please don’t stop.”

So you don’t stop. Abby’s still riding out the final ebbs of her orgasm when you push another finger inside of her. Her body jolts against the table, shaking and trembling beneath your hands and mouth. And then, tongue still moving gently, you curl your fingers inside of her. Press the tips of your middle and ring finger against that soft, spongy part deep inside and grin when she moans your name. You think it might be the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard – your name on her lips.

“You like that?” you mumble against her, the corners of your mouth twitching up.

“Yes,” she moans, hips bucking against your face. “God, yes.”

“Taste so fucking good,” you sigh, flattening your tongue to lick a broad stripe up her cunt. You can taste her come everywhere. Coating your chin, your lips, the inside of your nostrils. You groan, tongue moving faster against her clit now, desperate to see it happen again. She twitches into the table, and one of her hands falls to your shoulder. Blunt nails dig into the skin there, hot and piercing as she grinds against your mouth. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Fuck,” she cries out when you add a third finger. You moan, eyes rolling back at the way her walls stretch around you. So fucking tight.

Your fingers dig into her thigh. Silently pleading with her; tell me, tell me, tell me.

“So good,” Abby mumbles. “So—shit—so full, m’so full. Ohhh.”  

There’s something hot pooling at the base of your spine. Want – curling against your insides, begging to be satiated.

You murmur that desire into her cunt. Inaudible; the words lost in the mess of her, in the quick glide of your tongue between her folds.

“What?” she gasps.

“Say my name,” you repeat, louder, pleading.

And she does – she’s perfect when she comes for you again. Strong back arching off the table, thighs tensing around your body as she chants your name. Her hands are strong, fingers no doubt leaving bruises where she grips your skin tight, holding your mouth against her pussy as she convulses.

She doesn’t let you pull away for a minute, maybe two. Holding your head between her legs as she grounds herself, chest heaving with heavy breaths. You swear you even feel her stroke the skin at the nape of your neck. Twist the hair there around her finger and tug gently. But then she’s letting you go – strong hands falling back to clasp against her lower stomach, and you’re stumbling off the table.

You hand her those shorts—those tiny fucking shorts—and smile. Can see the way uneasiness flits across her features as she drags them back up her legs, sparing a wary glance towards the door. Probably wondering if anyone heard her; if they heard the way she cried and moaned and gasped your name as she came undone against your face.

“It’s fine,” you reassure, only half-lying. “We weren’t that loud.”

But you can tell by the way she nods that she doesn’t quite believe you. That she’s still confused, still unsure, still wondering what this all means.

So you squeeze her shoulder, thumb pressing into the dip below her collarbone, and promise – “No one has to know.”

thank you for reading! x

maybe ill write another part to this where abby realises she wants to return the favour... idk we'll see

[geltears]

cherry blossoms

Nanami Kento x Reader

Nanami ends up on a date with Gojo Satoru's cousin and he thinks she might be the love of his life

cw: awkward first dates, awkward romance, pining, fluff, Gojo is a menace, fem!reader

-> next chapter -> masterlist

Nanami seemed frantic in his brisk walk down the street-- he was sweating in thick noticeable beads and clutching onto a bouquet of tulips.

Tall, blue building. Tall, blue building. 

That was what Satoru had described the restaurant as but then again, Gojo Satoru was an idiot, undoubtedly the most unserious of all of Kento's upperclassmen. He was giddy when inviting him to this so-called graduation dinner he was hosting and Kento was beginning to think there was no dinner or restaurant because he was halfway down the street and not a speck of blue was in sight. 

He was fuming. It was getting late, no one was answering any of his calls and tulips? Gojo Satoru wanted a bouquet of fucking tulips?

"Hi, you must be Nanami," you chirped. 

Kento halted his long strides and pushed his hair away from his face so he could properly take in the sight of you.

Your frame was small compared to his wide shoulders, your hair was done and something about you seemed so pure that you could only be foreign, as Nanami's eyes filtered from your pretty pink dress to the tulips, alarms seemed to blare in his head as everything became clearer. 

"Uh- Yeah, nice to meet you," he cleared his throat, "Oh-! Here, these are for you." 

He didn't know many girls but he was sure you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen and you were stood in the middle of the busy street fiddling with the frills of your dress as you spoke to him. You were no Satoru, that was for sure, and there was probably no one else coming to join the two of you for dinner but he didn't seem to mind anymore.

Just then, Kento finally registered the buzzing in his pocket.

Satoru Did you meet her yet? She's my cousin so be nice Have fun;) it's my treat

And lastly, a text with a single word filtered through-- your name. 

"Nanami?"

"Kento. Kento's fine," he said.

If Nanami had the courage to look up from where his head was bent at his feet, he would've seen the bashful shade of red spread across your face and the undeniable twinkle in your eyes. So far, 10 minutes deep into knowing him, he was everything Satoru said he would be.  He was a bit odd, jittery in the presence of a girl but he was just a highschool senior and you loved the tulips he gave you.

Nanami feels silly as he lets you guide him by his hand into the restaurant. The lighting is dim, filled with the faint sound of an Italian song playing over the speakers and flooded with the scent of olive oil-- it has Satoru written all over it. 

Like a gentleman, he pulls your chair out for you and almost foolishly trips on his way back to his own seat. Were all first dates this embarrassing? Or just the ones set up by your childish upperclassman? 

"Are you okay?" your voice is soft and laced with genuine concern (concern for this boy that you've known for all of 30 minutes), "your face is a little pink and-" Your palm is pressed against his forehead now, eyebrows furrowed in deep worry and thought, "Your skin is warm."

His chest hurts with how fast his heart is beating-- he's never been this close to a girl before, and that's not counting Shoko because well- she's Shoko.

.

.

Dinner was nice but the walk to the train station is nicer. It's mid-spring, the cherry blossoms are blooming and Kento finds himself enraptured by you as the flowers fall and land on your pretty head. 

You shock him with your question, it comes unexpectedly and leaves his palms cold and clammy in his coat pockets as he stares at you, dumbfoundedly:

"Satoru didn't tell you about our dinner, did he?" 

For a moment, he wonders if he could think up a good lie as his eyes dip to meet yours, fluttering under your lashes and finally he decides, "No." "But I'm glad he didn't, I've never had a surprise date with a gorgeous girl before."

"A date?" 

Kento eyes the way you clutch the bouquet closer to your chest and he feels you press your body further into his arm as you walk. He hums, "Only if you want it to be one."

"I'd love for it to be."

The speaker blares 'Last train to Osaka leaving now' and he blinks as the train lights flash past you before coming to a stop. 

"Kento," you start, "That's my train."

It's the first and last time he might hear you say his name, the letters falling sweetly from your lips, like you were meant to say them. It's the first and last time you might hug him too, he realises, as you tiptoe to wrap your arms around him in a tight squeeze. He presses his face into the space between your shoulder and neck and breathes you in slowly-- you smell like a dream, like his dream come true. 

He wonders if he could stall, keep you distracted in conversation just long enough for you to the miss the train. He'd take you out for some of the cheapest and tastiest ramen you'll ever have in your life and if you'd let him, he would find things to keep you busy all night, just until the first train arrived the next morning. But Kento isn't selfish so he only smiles sheepishly at you and pulls away. 

Can you tell he doesn't want you to leave? He thinks you must be able to because you reach for his hand and give it one last, comforting squeeze. 

"I had fun tonight, let Satoru give you my number."

Satoru  @everyone breakfast at my place?

Nanami groans as his finger tips brush the cold metal of the door knob and something new crosses his mind: would you be here, this morning?He bites his tongue and hopes but when he pushes through the door, he only hears the familiar sound of Satoru and Suguru bickering, save for Shoko's faint giggle. The air carries a sense of depravity and rambunctiousness that could only ever be found at Satoru's house-- Satoru's house, not the Gojo estate because when you're the sole heir of an entire clan's fortune, you've just got money to spare on a condo in Tokyo.

"Morning," Kento greets, holding his brown paper bag up for the trio to see, "I brought ajitama." 

Satoru squeals at the sight of the blonde, excitedly hurrying over to poke and prod at him, he croons, "Aw Kento, you didn't have to."

He cringes, face going pale pink all the way up to his ears and it seems like blushing has become Nanami's newest, bad habit. 

"I didn't," he clears his throat, an attempt to retain some sense of dignity but Shoko and Suguru are already thrown over each other in a fit of giggles, "My mom made them."

Satoru is....well, still Satoru, none the wiser to anything but himself and stringing Suguru along like a shadow but Nanami feels new, one day older and he thinks, he might miss you just a little more than he should. Why is a girl so sweet related to Satoru Gojo-? Or better yet, how? 

When he's finally drawn from his thoughts by Suguru's swift snapping fingers beside his ears, all three of them are staring at him, faces broken out into wide, knowing, grins. 

"So, how was the date, lover boy?" Ieiri teases. 

"It- it was great," Kento sighs, bashful at the sudden memory of you, "She's an angel." He means it. 

Satoru, ever pleased by his newfound love-matching abilities, puffs out his chest at the confession, "Yeah? Too bad her flight was this morning."

[moonlight-prose]

✧ MORE THAN ENOUGH ✧

a/n: i wrote this at 3am, sleep deprived but somehow still thinking about this man. honestly i fully think my best works come out of the 3am haze. the thots are always around though when it comes to miguel. it's hard to believe kinktober is already almost done. seriously october has gone by so fast i'm actually upset. but nonetheless, the show will go on. so enjoy this filthy miguel fic my darlings.

day eighteen - sex pollen | kinktober 2023

summary: "this life was dangerous enough. neither of you wanted to make it harder by being stupid and falling in love. but that was the worst part. he had fallen long before you ever did. and there was no escaping the grasp you had on his heart."

word count: 2.4k+

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, sex pollen (which means slight dubious consent/dubcon), consent is given, p in v sex, miguel being a tortured soul, angst, the ramblings of an exhausted writer.

The mission was routine. Simply another anomaly that you had to secure before heading back home. Each move, each maneuver was familiar—something your body knew by muscle memory now. You apprehended them, grabbed a meal on the way home, and climbed through your living room window at a quarter past two in the morning. Exhaustion riddled your body when you finally entered your bedroom, the dirty suit you wore now an irritation as you slipped out of it.

Even though you wanted to collapse, give into sleep for as long as possible, you were in desperate need of a shower. With a groan, you headed towards the bathroom, suit discarded on the floor, watch still attached to your wrist. Thankfully it was capable of handling a bit of water in the shower.

Halfway through the mission the villain had sprayed you in the face with a powder. Bright red that covered your suit, mixing with the black fabric and practically disappearing. It wasn’t until you saw a red stream into the water did you remember the pungent floral scent that nearly suffocated you. One single spray and you were brought down to your knees, gasping for breath.

Yet the fact that you were simply able to shake it off made you think nothing of it. Until the water turned warm.

A hot stream from the nozzle soothed your aching muscles, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. You needed it after the night you had. But the heat simply continued to build. Steam rising in the room and clinging to your skin the longer you stood there. Your fingers twitched at your sides, senses ringing loudly in your ears as you tried to figure out what part of your body was going haywire.

Hissing at the burn, you scrambled for the nozzle to turn it cold. Yet even that didn’t cure the painful incapacitating ache that began to overtake you. Turning your legs into jello and sending you to the ground with a hard thump. You gasped, clawing at the walls for some reprieve to get out, but your body had gone limp. The heat now seeping lower, curling around the base of your spine and screaming for something.

Something red flashed on your watch, drawing your attention to it quickly. And it wasn’t until the harsh beep of a call came through did you realize it was your vitals notifying you that something was wrong. Slamming your hand down on the watch, a small form of Miguel popped up. His mask covering his face. Yet even from this angle you could tell he stood rigid and worried.

“Miggy,” you sighed, head falling back against the shower wall.

“Something’s wrong.”

You scoffed, pressing your thighs together at the painful ache that surged through you simply from the sound of his voice. “No shit.”

“Nena,” he warned, the soft whine you let out filtering through the call and grasping his attention.

With a sharp inhale, you dragged your hand up your thigh, feeling the way your body jolted. “The mission went wrong.”

“Explain.”

“There was a fucking powder,” you said, eyes trained on the way he moved in the small hologram. It became clear to you that he was pacing. “A red one.” You gasped softly when your fingers slid along your inner thigh. “I’m burning up.”

He let out a harsh breath. “Your vitals are all over the place.”

“Need help.” Letting your fingers dip even further, you felt the pool of wetness that trickled down your leg, your pussy fluttering around nothing. “‘S hot. Can’t fucking—ah—need you.”

Miguel stiffened, mask vanishing and eyes narrowing as he took in the way your eyes fluttered shut, teeth digging into your bottom lip. Before you could beg him again—your voice sweet and enticing—he was ending the call with a guttural noise. A portal already opening up beside him seconds later—your window in his sights.

He could feel a weight fall on his shoulders the second he climbed in, swiftly sliding it shut behind him and flipping the lock for an extra measure. It didn’t do much, but it put his mind at ease knowing the safety was set in place. Miguel wasn’t one to drop everything and go, but this was you. The person whose smile was permanently etched into his heart. Who lit up his day by simply starting up a conversation about nothing—your words quickly divulging into a rambling mess.

Yet he listened anyway.

Content to simply hear the sound of your voice.

Ten steps into the apartment he felt it. His senses flying off the charts, your scent filtering through the air, stronger than normal. Two steps away from the door he nearly fell to his knee as he heard you. The utterly obscene echo of your moans muffled through the door—the sound of your fingers plunging into your slick with reckless abandon. His mouth went dry, eyes darkening and claws descending as he softly knocked. He hoped you were still okay enough to acknowledge his presence; to ask him for help.

“Miguel,” you softly whimpered, pain lacing your voice and that’s what had him shoving open the door. His eyes raked down your naked form to check for injuries before settling on your face. Entirely contorted in a mixture of anguish and bliss.

“Amorcito,” he murmured, face softening as a tear streaked down your cheek, hand reaching out for him.

He fell to his knees beside you, gathering you close. It was hard to ignore the way his cock twitched at your moan—your body reacting to his touch without hesitation. As if you were opening up to the underlying feelings you had both shoved down. This life was dangerous enough. Neither of you wanted to make it harder by being stupid and falling in love.

But that was the worst part.

He had fallen long before you ever did. And there was no escaping the grasp you had on his heart.

“What can I do?” he asked, lips brushing against your temple.

The water still thrummed loudly against the shower floor, heat spilling out into the rest of your home. But Miguel didn’t care. Not when you were curling yourself around his body, lips dragging along his neck and hips bucking up into his stomach. You were wanton and needy. Breathy moans and pleas of needing him falling from your lips—eyes glassy with lust.

“It hurts,” you gasped, somehow managing to catch your clit on the bulge of his suit.

He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he let you work out your needs. Biting down on his bottom lip until copper burst on his tongue while you grinded shamelessly against his body. Your moans being pressed to his neck, fingers digging into his back. It was its own kind of torture. But Miguel refused to take pleasure in the fact that you were in pain. He couldn’t.

Not when your mind was elsewhere.

On his way to the bathroom he spotted your suit on the ground. The red substance clearly marked on the fabric and he made a mental note to take it with him for testing. Whatever the fuck you’d been infected with wasn’t something he wanted out on the streets. Not if it was this painful.

A sharp gasp signaled the end of his sanity. Your eyes fluttered shut, mouth forming an O as your body shuddered. A gush of slick now coating the outside of his suit. His body was screaming at him, fingers digging into your soft skin. For a brief moment he wondered if it was safe to pull away. Simply to regain some control over himself. But then your teeth sunk into his neck, hips moving once more, and Miguel heard the thin strand of his control snap.

With a groan, he pressed you back onto the shower floor, your yelp covered by his mouth. Tongue slipping in to taste you, your moan being swallowed by him licking deeply into you. Hands pulled at his hair, twisting the now soaked locks around your fingers as your legs locked him in place. A gasp echoing in the small space as you pulled away—eyes taking in the way he practically fell apart for you with a single look.

“Please,” you whimpered. “I need you.”

He fumbled with his watch, pressing the buttons needed for his suit to dematerialize, leaving him bare above you. Yet something tight pulled at his chest. A feeling he couldn’t ignore, even as your mouth parted, eyes going wide at the sight of his cock jutting up into his stomach. Miguel wanted to capture that image of you and keep it in his lab. The pure raw desire on your face, blatantly clear for him to see.

“What do you need nena?” he asked, his chest heaving and eyes focused on your face. He hadn’t allowed them to drop ever since he pulled you close, too intent on making sure you were going to live to see tomorrow.

“You.” Your hands slid along his back, pulling him close until your lips brushed against his. “Please. It hurts so fucking bad.”

He nodded. “Okay. I’ve got you.”

A soft puff of air washed across his cheek as he guided his cock to your entrance, feeling the way your slick practically poured across his length. Coating him in a shiny layer of you. It made his mouth water, his body calling out to you even as he pressed into you slowly. Biting back a cry at the feeling of you tightly wrapped around his cock. You were warm. So fucking warm Miguel nearly shoved his way in, but he could sense the slight tinge of pain that bloomed across your body. Your face scrunching up as a loud moan echoed in the room.

“So big,” you gasped, hips canting down to let him sink in an inch further. Until his hips were pressed to yours—filling you so much he felt the wires in his brain fry.

“Mierda.” His hand slapped to the floor beside your head, body going taut as his head tilted back, the veins prominent on his skin. “‘M not gonna last bebita.”

You watched transfixed as he finally looked back down at you, his teeth clenched and bared as he slid out of you slowly, only to shove himself back in. Crying out, you dug your nails into his lower back, feeling the muscles contract beneath your fingers as he moved. Thrusting into you swiftly—barely even pulling out.

It scared him how quickly he became addicted to the feel of you. The way you writhed in pleasure beneath him, moaning out a garbled version of his name. He wanted to bury himself in your chest. To make a home in your heart without any promise of leaving, but he’d settle for this. The heat of your body against his, your eyes rolling back as his cock kissed right where you needed him most.

“Eres mía,” he gasped, sliding his hand up your back and lifting you slightly. He fucked you deep, feeling the way your body trembled beneath his touch, breaths erratic and filled with high pitched whines. “Never fucking leaving this.”

You cried out, your walls clamping down around his cock and dragging a low grunt from his chest. “I-I don’t want you to.”

His eyes snapped up to yours, hips stuttering when your nails dug into his skin, no doubt leaving a mark—or so he hoped. “Yeah?” He shifted the angle, pounding down into you and dragging a sob from your chest. “You want me to stay nena? Fuck you full of me?”

Your walls tightened even further, head falling back as he did what he could to shove you towards what you needed most. What would finally put your body at ease. Tears dripped into your hair, the heat practically radiating off your body and seeping into his. And with one final deep grind of his hips against yours, you broke. Sobbed his name so loud for the entire apartment complex to hear as you soaked his cock.

Miguel nearly dropped you to the ground, his body giving out at the feeling of you dragging him in so tight he never wanted to leave. White flashed behind his eyes, the breath now stolen from his lungs, as he came so hard he nearly collapsed. Catching your lips in a messy kiss, he cried out, spurting into you until he nearly spilled out. Filling you so full you were sure to feel him for days.

With a gasp, your release finally came to an end, body going limp in his hold. He was soaked from the water—now cold—that still echoed thunderously in the bathroom. With a shaky hand he reached out and switched the knob off. Panting into your mouth as he attempted to regain some of his strength.

“Miguel,” you sighed, hands sliding along his sides.

He grunted, lifting himself up with effort. “Let me get you up, amorcita.”

You shook your head, a whine leaving your lips and legs crossing over his back, effectively shoving him back down over you. “Don’t. Please.”

“I have to. The substance is out of your system.” As much as he wanted to give in to those feelings, to stay right there on the floor with you, he knew this was fleeting. Something to help you when you couldn’t help yourself. Because Miguel knew he would always be there when you needed him.

But then your lips met his once more, hands tangling in his hair. “I meant what I said Miggy.”

“It was—”

“Not entirely the powder,” you said, pressing your thumb to his lips. “I care about you Miguel. More than I probably should.”

That weight from earlier slid off his chest and he swore he could hear it crash to the floor. Shattering on contact. Crimson eyes met yours, an emotion flickering in them so prominent it tore at your heart—forcing your feelings to the very forefront of your body. There was no turning back after this. No possibility where your emotions didn’t clash with reality—intertwining dangerously with the role you were given.

But that was the thing when it came to him.

You wanted the danger. You wanted him in whatever form you could get. Even if it was in fleeting moments like this.

“I know our life is dangerous, but I want…” You sighed, your head falling to the ground with a soft thud. “I want you.”

“Amorcita…”

“If that’s what you want too.”

He smiled, leaning down to press his lips to yours, hands sliding along your sides. “More than you know,” he murmured, settling his body over yours completely, finally giving into the feelings that clawed at his chest.

Content to remain right there with you.

For as long as you wanted.

[ghostbustting]

Hiiiii !!

How are youuuu???

I was wondering if you could write something for early 2000s James Hetfield where reader is in her mid twenties but haven't lost her virginity yet because she is waiting for the right person and James just so happen to be the right person.

But like really fluffy too you know

You don't have to right it if you don't want to, I completely understand

HAVE A GREAT REST OF YOUR DAYY 💕💕

HIII I'm so sorry I haven't found a lot of time to finish the requests, I promise I'm trying to find as much freetime as possible to finish em all 🫶 over here stressed out by competitions 😭 ALSO THIS IS SO SWEET❗️

╰┈➤“𝑾𝑬 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑵𝑬𝑪𝑻„ ๋࣭

James Hetfield x Reader

Contains Smut.

“Okay let me get this straight..”

James looked at me with a raised eyebrow, his eyes slightly widening as he leaned over the small shitty dinner table I had in the kitchen of my flat, his hands placing down the metal fork and knife he was previously holding onto the plate where his food was still halfway done from being gone.

I chuckle to myself as the man in front of me ask me, "You haven't lost your virginity?" The tone of his voice and the look on his face shows a genuine hint of disbelief at the unanswered question itself.

”No..” I answered with a small sigh, a smile still on my face, faltering a little while I look down nervously. The answer that just slipped out of my lips itself has been something I’m not fully proud of, feeling rather embarrass of still being what they would call “pure” at my current age. Even though I have my own reasons behind it.

The way James’ eyes widened even more and his jaw dropped a little, I could tell that he himself did not believe my answer.

It was just another Saturday night, James had asked me to have dinner together in my rather small flat, what I thought would’ve been a big contrast to what his usual preference. I had only been dating him for almost a year now, and that fact alone still made me stay awake at night, wondering what the fuck I did to have him right here in front of me.

He and even his exes were everything I’m not.

Yet he made me feel like I’m everything he needs.

James leaned back and ran a hand through his short blond hair, his other hand taking the glass of water as he slowly sip on it, he sigh as he place it back down, his eyes gazing back up at me. “..But you’re—”

”Old enough? I know.”

He paused for a moment and furrow his eyebrows, head tilted. A small chuckle leave his lips while his head shook a little, “I was about to say a wonderful human being.” He spoke, his shoulders shrugging. “You’re seriously telling me no guy has ever tried it with a woman with a personality like yours?”

Looking down, I can feel my cheeks heating up— no doubt they’d be red at the moment. His words seems to be so simple, yet so genuine. I didn’t quite expect him to make a comment on my personality when I felt like finding a person like me was something not hard to do.

There never was much to comment about myself anyways. I always found myself to be someone predictable.

Chuckling softly, I look back up at him, “No, I just.. I don’t feel ready yet.” I slowly confessed, my hands fiddling with the hem of my shirt under the table, feeling the slightest bit of nervous with the topic.

”Scared?” He asked, in a way of asking for a ‘confirmation’.

”I..” I trail of and took a deep breath, letting it out in a heavy breath as I smile softly at him, my answer coming out in slow soft voice, “I’m waiting for the right one.. the right person.”

His head nods slowly as a sign of understanding, a small smile on his face as he look at me. "What um.. what about me?" He starts, a hint of hesitant in his voice, I could tell he was going to ask something he might think was rather 'risky', my guess was answered when he spoke up again, "Do you think.. I could be.. the one..?"

The question struck me like lightning. I look down, processing his words in a loop inside my brain. I think about my answer again and again, the urge to say yes consuming my heart, making it thump slightly faster, meanwhile my brain told me to think wisely with my answer.

Before I could answer anyways, James spoke up. "—It's fine." He say, making me raise an eyebrow as he snap me out of my train of thoughts. "You don't have to answer it." A genuinely soft smile was on his lips as he look at me with those kind blue eyes, a different gaze than the one I usually see him use onstage.

"Just know.." His hands slowly reach over the small table and hold both of mine, "I really.. really love you." As the words leave his lips, it hits right into my heart instead, filling my stomach with butterflies when I can hear how genuine his voice sounds.

"Like.. I'm totally definitely absolutely obviously one hundred and one percent infinitively serious about this."

A small soft laugh leave my lips, my fingers wrapping around his own hands, holding each other's hands tightly as our eyes meet. I can help but feel a sense of warmth and love taking control of my body, the actual love held in his eyes becoming even more clear as daylight as time passes.

He then stood up and took our plates and glasses, his intention of washing the dirty dishes and eating utensil obvious.

I quickly stood up and hold the stacked plates and glasses from his hands, placing them back down on the table between us. "No need. I'll wash them myself later." I smile softly at him.

The man in front of me returned the smile and nod, "Then I best be going." He spoke, walking away from the table to grab his stuff, his shoes leading his way to the door of my flat, my own steps follows close behind.

We stood in front of each other for awhule, just sharing sweet smiles. My neck started to hurt a little from how I had to tilt my head up to look at him from his tall figure, but I could care less if it means seeing that smile of his he probably knew would melt my heart.

He took a step closer to me and lean down, his lips meets my pinkish cheek in a simple yet sweet peck, his voice gently saying, "See you tomorrow, sweet one."

I look up at him and smile slightly wider, my eyes never stops admiring the man I was granted with, "Goodnight, James."

His body slowly turned around from me, the door handle now being held by his hand as he pull it down, unlocking and opening the previously closed door, being greeted by the empty hallway.

At the same time, something was itching in my heart. Something that needed to be relieved but I just couldn't place what is it that my heart needed so bad.

It wasn't until his shoe lands a single step outside of my flat doorframe when my mind brought all my thoughts back to his question earlier, the question if I think he could be the one for me. Then, to the way he confessed his love for me, the way his eyes gaze at a deep layer in me that no other man have ever discovered, the way he touched and cared for me.

I couldn't help it.

"James!" I yelped out, flinching ever so slightly as I was shocked myself by how sudden and loud my voice came out.

The man turns around quickly, a look of concern plasteres on his face, "What did I do?!—"

His sentence failed to come out as I cut them off quick by wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him down, my lips attatched onto his while I drag him back into my flat, my leg kicking the door closed behind us. "I'm ready.." I mumble against his lips.

It must've took him awhile to process what's happening, but then I feel his arms wrap themselves around my waist, tight, pulling me flushed against his body as our lips move against the other's, the warmth of our bodies mixing in a lustful heat.

Our bodies moved on their own, his legs leading mine to walk further into my flat, all while still locked in the passionate kiss.

Every now and then, my back would bump into several walls we passed along the way to my bedroom, our lips never faltering in their move, the heat only increasing between our bodies.

It wasn't long until we reach into my bedroom, his feet kicking the door shut behind us as he gently lay me down on my bed, his bigger body hovering over my own as his lips slowly leave mine.

James' blue eyes gaze upon my body, my chest heaving up and down from how much breath he took from me just by one passionate kiss that felt like it lasted a century, which however still isn't long enough.

His hand held mine close to his face, his lips now pressing onto the skins of my palm, the facial hair covering his chin tickling my palm a little. Nevertheless, my eyes are fixated on him and distracted by how beautiful he look, taking care of me so gently.

My hand slowly cup his cheek and stroke his skin with the pad of my thumb, my eyes meet his as he press one last kiss to my other hand.

“You sure you’re ready, baby?” He ask in a soft voice, a big contrast to the one I usually hear him use to sing on the radio and records. “We really don’t have to..”

With deep breaths, I slowly exhale a shaky breath and force a soft smile for him. “My heart long for yours, James.. as much as my body long to be close to yours forever..”

A small happy grin appear on his lips as he sit up straight again, “Whatever you want, sweet girl.”

He whisper as his hand reached up and touch my red and warm cheeks, his face inching close and closer by second as his lips slowly find it’s way to mine, our lips locking and rubbing against one another in yet antother soft kiss.

Although this time, his other hand was busy travelling down my body, reaching the end of my shirt and slipping his hand in, his palm laying flat on my stomach, the feeling of his cold fingertips sending goosebumps on my arms.

"May I?" He asked, now holding the hem of my shirt and tugging on it lightly.

It only took one nod from me before he slip it off my body in a swift action, the sight of my bare body now in full display for him, the only thing covering my torso being my bra.

Which later on I find him unclasping as well, leaving my breasts to be revealed.

I never knew people's eyes actually do this in real life until I saw how his eyes actually sparkles with admiration towards my revealed torso, the blue in his eyes becoming slightly darker. "Shit.. you're a goddess.."

He mumbled as his hand caress the new revealed skins, my back arching ever so slightly at the feeling of his rough hands.

"Please don't stop.." I whined out, as embarrassing as it is to let out such noise like that. After all, I doubt I won't be letting out even more embarrassing noises later tonight.

His fingers then took a trip down to my pants, two of them hooking around the waistband while he gazes back up at me again, searching cautiously for any look of hesitation or regret in my face in case I wanted to stop.

Which of course, I didn't.

Seeing through my eyes like a window to my heart, he knew he was doing the right thing when he slowly pull down my pants along with my lace panties.

The lump in my throat became hard to swallow the moment the two last fabrics covering my body was tossed aside to the floor, abandoned and revealing my thighs along with my virgin cunt, not touched by any man at all. At least, until tonight that is.

Slowly, both of his hands place themselves on my knees and spreads my thighs apart, giving him a full sight of what he'd be taking care of tonight, my glistening folds enchanting him to take this further.

But he knew better than to rush me on my first time.

"Can I touch you?"

The way he ask for permission warms my heart, cause he knew damn well by the way I was already squirming a little that I was desperate for him.

"Please do.."

And so he did.

His fingers took a trip up and down my thighs, his lips pressing a kiss on my thigh, dangerously close to my heat that I can feel his fucking heavy breath right against my folds, sending a wave of shock up my body.

Yet the shock was nothing compared to when his fingers lightly graze up and down my folds, the light yet intimate touch only increasing the arousing feeling of lust that's burning in my heart like a flame.

His thumb was on my clit by the time he start rubbing gentle circles on it, a gasp leaving my lips at the feeling. I never knew it would feel like this. Yet it was all only his thumb, let alone what it would feel later on..

While his thumb continued to give love to my clit, two of his fingers find their way up and down my folds before slowly slipping past them, his digits entering my tight pussy.

I gasp even louder, my hand flying to my mouth to prevent any more sinful noises leaving my lips. But the way his fingers slowly pump into me did not help. At all.

"Fuck, you're so tight... so.. wet.." He muttered out, his fingers moving deeper yet gently into me, stretching out my insides as he knew just how to move his fingers properly, making the sweetest noises come out of the back of my throat every single time. “You doing alright up there? Does it hurt?”

My eyes look down at him, his lips on my thigh while his hand takes good care of my pussy, “A- a little but.. it feels..” I gasped out a moan, cutting myself off before continuing my words, “..good… so good…” I breathed out, my head thrown back as my eyes flutter close with how much pleasure those devils of fingers he have can make.

Those two digits of him moves so slow yet so nicely, my squishy walls hugging his fingers tightly, there’s not a single doubt they’d be soaked with my wetness by the time they leave my pussy. Not to mention how much wetter I got from the circles he’s rubbing on my clit, only going faster as time fly.

”James..”

Just then, he actually did slip those two damn fingers out of my pussy, causing me to be a whining mess, in need to release the tight knot in my stomach, my body squirming around and grasping onto the bedsheets.

My whines stopped the moment I see him take off his shirt, the toned torso he owns becoming visible to my eyes, encouraging that same flaming lust in me. I can only watch as he start unbuckling his belt.

Our eyes met when he toss his belt aside, "Listen.." He started in a quiet voice, "If you want to stop... just tell me, okay?" The genuine care in his voice was no doubt.

With a nod of my head, he took it as a permission to continue. That's when both his pants and boxers fall to the ground, leaving me with the sight of his hard cock, standing proudly before me.

A small gasp leave the back of my throat, my lips parting open in amaze of his not-so-disappointing size, my mind cannot comprehend how something like that would fit my hole.

"...You trust me?"

"I do, I really do.."

James smiles softly at me as he slowly gets on the bed, his bare body hovering over mine as his hands gently runs up and down my skin, which soon stops and fixated on holding both of my hips, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on my skin while his lips press a soft kiss upon my forehead, my cheek, and my shoulder.

One of his hands went down to grab his cock, leading it towards my folds. My breath hitched the moment I feel his tip brushing against the entrance of my pussy.

His eyes yet again meet mine for what felt like the hundred times tonight, then... I feel him slowly enter me.

I yelp, my hands flying to his back. A wince was pulled out of me when he slowly push more of his length into me. The width of his cock was stretching out my walls, causing more wince to escape me.

"Hurts?" He whisper softly, kissing my hair.

"The fuck do you think..?" I winced out, nails digging into the skin of his back. "B-but.. don't stop.. please.."

A soft chuckle leave his lips as he slowly pushes more of his member, all while holding my body in his arms, chest to chest. "I'll be gentle.. promise.."

By the time he starts filling me up with all of his length, the aching in me starts to fade away, being replaced by a nicely overwhelming sense of pleasure. My winces turns into moans when my body relax and give in to his thrusts.

James stayed still in me for a while, letting my walls stretch and adjust to the new feeling of his cock in me, his lips never stopped kissing around my face, making me feel as loved as possible.

After awhile, I softly whisper into his ear, "James..?"

"Mm?"

"Please move..."

I never thought two simple words like that would be able to deliver even more pleasure towards my way. Cause the moment he slowly starts thrusting into me, a gasp leave my throat and my legs wrap themselves around his waist.

James grunted as he feel my walls clenching around his girth, his thrusts were slow and gentle, yet enough to pull out the dirties sounds from us.

My nails were digging real deep into his skin, no doubt leaving marks later. But I just had to hold onto him, or else I'll most likely crumble into pieces from how good he makes me feel.

His hands guided my hips to move against his own, accelerating his thrusts ever so slightly, but not too fast. "Fuuck... so tight.." He muttered out, shaking his head, causing a single strand of his blond hair to fall out of place and in front of his eye.

The new speed was gentle enough for me, but fast enough to make me lose all the dignity I had just a second ago.

"James..!" I moaned out, my back arched while my head was thrown back, endless cycle of moans coming out of me.

"Too much?—"

"More!"

"You- you sure—"

"Please!!" My fingernails scratched down his back, causing him to let out a loud groan from the somewhat pleasuring pain my nails caused him.

My eyes widens when he actually did fasten his speed in his thrusts, but still somehow able to keep it gentle.

When I look up, I see how much James was enjoying this, how much love he put into his thrusts, how genuine he is with me. His eyes gazes right into mine.

My walls starts to clench around his girth while that same knot returns to my stomach, "I.. I think I.." I couldn't find the right words to utter out of my trembling lips.

"C'mon, princess.. release with me.." He whispers, his hand reaching back to hold mine, his lips yet again placing sweet kisses on my skin. I watch as our hands fit perfectly well together.

Then, with one last final thrust of his cock.. I let out a moan of his name, my eyes rolled back while I feel liquid gushing out of my hole.

James pulled out of me quickly all of a sudden, his hand flew to his cock and start pumping up and down his length, groans and curses of his filling my ears. "F-fuck.. shit.. fuck fuck!"

White streaks of cum shoots out of the tip of his cock, flying straight to my stomach while he lets out all of his release, my own cum gathered on the sheets underneath my legs.

My chest rises up and down, I look up at him with wide eyes as I grab onto his body and pulled him close to me, wrapping every limbs of mine around his bigger body, breathing heavily into his ear while his own heavy breaths fills my ear.

"I love you. I love you so so much. Don't leave me.." I whisper into his ear, a slight panic in my voice as I realize the man I'm holding actually is the right man for me. The man that have a deep connection with me, our hearts and souls tied together in an invisible string all these years we haven't met each other.

"My heart is yours."

His voice whispers into my ear, a melody of love I'd cherish forevermore.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Negan perked up as he heard the door at the top of the steps open and hurried boots on the stairs. His book dropped down onto his chest. You came through the dim light and stepped into the pool of warm glow from his lanterns.

"Well, hell..." he said, planting his boots on the floor and sitting up on the edge of his cot. His book lay forgotten beside him. "Isn't it a little late to be paying little ol' me a visit, doll? Or, wait—is this a booty call?" he asked, a smirk growing in his face. But his smile quickly faded as he read your furrowed brow. "What is it?" he asked, his tone serious.

"It's the fucking Whisperers," sighed, your eyes closing and your fists gripping tightly around two of the cold, metal bars. "I don't know what to do... I don't—" You broke off and sighed heavily. "I can't sleep. I can't eat. Daryl and Carol are going to get themselves killed..."

Negan rose to his feet and crossed halfway across his cell toward you. Your eyes opened at the sound of his movement and you straightened up and withdrew your grip on the bars. "You want the benefit of my expertise?" He paused and you met his eyes. "Kill them. All of them."

Your eyes narrowed. "Is that what you've learned from all this?" you asked, gesturing to his surroundings. "Really?"

"If I had just put an end to Rick and the rest of you right away, I probably wouldn't be in this cell," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "My philosophy on people being resources really backfired in the end."

You scoffed and stiffened. "Jesus, Negan... You know, I'd be dead then."

He tipped his head to one side and you watched his tongue sweep out over his bottom lip. "An unfortunate side-effect, doll. I'm talking strictly strategy. You can't tell me I'm wrong."

"Well, some of us are trying to do better."

"You really think Alpha and her band of skin-freaks are worth saving?" he asked, incredulous. "After what they've already done?"

"Not Alpha! But some of them—some of them are probably there because they have nowhere else to go. Some of them are still people. I mean look at Gamma. She cares about that baby boy, Adam. We can't just keep fucking killing each other. There will be nothing left!" you said vehemently, pacing a tight circle. "There's already almost nothing left..."

Despite your frustrated and defeated tone, Negan was smiling at you.

"What?" you snapped. "You gonna tell me how naive and stupid I am now?"

Negan shook his head. "No. Actually, I was thinking that I admire you."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, right..."

"No. Really, I do. Somehow, after all the horseshit you've gone through, you're still looking to heal this sick world we're living in."

You crossed your arms and surveyed him, but could feel yourself softening. "Someone has to. We both know you won't do it."

Negan laughed and smiled at you again. "I don't know. You might change my mind yet..."

Prompt: "You want the benefit of my expertise? Kill them."

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt7

Warnings: cursing

part 1 I part 2 I part 3 I part 4 I part 5 I part 6 I part 7 I part 8 I part 9 I part 10

F1 Masterlist

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

instagram

I wanted to cry in the middle of the Wingstop. I wanted to break the news on my own terms but thanks to whoever runs the ‘F1GossipRoom’ account on instagram, I couldn’t. They ruined one of the biggest moments of my and Lando’s life. I know I've done this twice before but I wanted to witness all of Lando's firsts with this baby and the surprise pregnancy announcement was off the table.

I knew I was being overdramatic but I couldn't help it when the one thing I wanted to do got ruined and all these pregnancy hormones going through the roof I wasn't thinking clear but there was one thing I was sure about. I was going to find the person behind this gossip account and I was going to make their life a living hell.

"Baby, it's okay. It sucks because I wanted to just randomly drop this in a cute instagram post but we can still do that. We can't let these random no-lifers ruin this moment for us." A small chuckle escaped my lips as Lando had placed the wingstop down on the table and embraced me in a tight hug.

"I know baby, I'm sorry" I started to sob into Lando's shoulder which only further upset him.

"No, no baby please don't cry. How 'bout this: we go home, eat our food and we can watch Tangled again. How 'bout that? That sound like a plan?" Lando tried to negotiate while rubbing his hand up and down my back.

"And the second Captain America movie again?" I said as I pulled back from the embrace and wiped a few tears away from my face with a small smile becoming present.

"Anything for you" Lando said as he placed a quick kiss to my temple.

-

It took us about 30 minutes to get home, Lando had to make a quick pitstop at our local Dairy Queen because the baby really wanted a Mint Oreo blizzard.

"Okay babe. This is STRICTLY dessert. You AND BABY," Lando started before poking my tummy "need to eat actual food first"

"I know that, but I don't know if Baby gets it yet because they want a teeny tiny bite." I gave Lando puppy dog eyes

"Does the baby want a bite or do YOU want a bite?" Lando smirked as he cocked a brow in my direction

"Potato pahtato" I shrugged whited caused Lando to let out a laugh

"Just ONE bite." An excited shriek left my mouth as I quickly grabbed my blizzard and took a huge spoonful before letting out a satisfied moan at the taste of the cold, minty, chocolaty goodness that exploded on my tongue.

“Okay babe, I need you to get home now so I can eat because this is too good!!” I almost took another spoonful but Lando took it out of my hand, put the lid back on and put it in the cup holder on the door to make sure that it was out of my reach.

“That was so unnecessarily rude Lando. You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” I said with a huff as I shifted my whole body to face the door with my arms crossed.

————

We’d gotten home about an hour ago and we were about halfway through Tangled (and our blizzards) when we heard a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it baby.” Lando said as he placed a quick kiss on my temple before getting up to answer the door

“Oh hey Logan, did you forget something?” I heard Lando say as I watched him side step to let Logan and Yelena in the house.

“I need to talk to Y/N, where is she?” Logan sounded a bit angry when he said that but Lando brushed it off. He probably thought it had something to do with Yelena and he thought it best to not push him further.

“She’s in the Living Room. We’re watching Tangled and eating.” Logan just handed Yelena over to Lando before brushing past him to get to me.

Lando held Yelena for about 5 seconds before he smelt a strange smell, lifting her up to smell her diaper before cringing at the smell radiating from it.

“Mmm girl, you stinky. Let’s give you a bath.” Lando cooed as he bounced her up and down before taking her up to our room to give her a bath.

While Lando was upstairs giving Yelena a bath my eyes stayed laser focused on Logan whom was still angrily walking over in my direction.

“Y/N, Really?!” Logan almost screamed as he finally reached me.

I just stared at him dumbfounded because who is he to barge into my house and start talking to me like this.

“I would really love some context here Logan.” I said as I placed my already melting blizzard on the coffee table.

“You’re pregnant?!” I should’ve sensed this coming given that it took months of convincing me that I wanted a baby for I even tried for one with Logan.

Being a mom wasn’t in my ‘To-Do Life Agenda’ but being with Logan and seeing how he was with his nieces, nephews and younger fans started to make me feel like maybe I wanted to be a mom.

“Logan, please. I was going to tell you before we told everyone else.” I tried to keep our voices hushed because I didn’t want Lando to hear how everyday of my life was after the loss of Theo when Logan and I was still together.

“No! That’s bullshit! It took me MONTHS of convincing you to get pregnant but you let HIM knock you up less than a year after having Yelena?! I should’ve known you were just a whore.” Logan murmured that last part and I wasn’t even sure if I heard him right.

“OKAY LOGAN! You’ve outstayed your welcome. Get out of my house now.” Lando’s voiced boomed as he was coming down the stairs with a clean, sleepy baby in his arms.

“What did you say to me?!” Logan challenged

“Get. The Fuck. Out. Of. My. House. Now. Before I call the cops.” Lando said sternly as he held the front door open once he reached the bottom of the steps ushering Logan through it.

“I’m not done with this conversation yet Y/N/N. We will-” was all we heard before Lando slammed the door shut cutting Logan off.

I wanted to cry, I felt so humiliated. Was I really a whore for being pregnant with Lando’s kid barely a year after having Logan’s? Maybe I was.

Lando quickly pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Let’s go to bed, we have our clinic tomorrow to make sure Lily picked up the gender reveal envelope so they can start planning the reveal and we can see if maybe Lily and Oscar can take Yelena too?” With a quick nod of my head Lando made his way to the nursery to put Yelena to sleep while I started to clean the mess up in the living room.

after about 10 minutes I entered our shared bedroom to see Lando scrolling for a movie to watch.

“Oh let’s watch-”

“Captain America: The Winter Soldier? It’s already waiting to be played” One thing about Lando is he knows what to do to make me feel special.

I got in the bed and cuddled close to Lando while also being cautious of my belly. I didn’t make it 10 minutes into the movie before I knocked out.

————

The next morning I made my way into the clinic while Lando and Yelena stayed in the car. I need to be the one to make sure that Lily did her gender reveal planner duties.

“Can I help you?” the nice young lady at the front desk asked

“Hi, yes. Could you tell me if the gender reveal envelope under the last name ‘Norris’ was picked up yesterday?” I asked politely

“Yes ma’am it was.” The lady said, her voice laced with nervousness “Was it not supposed to be picked up yesterday?”

“Oh it was! I just wanted to make sure!” A sigh of relief echoed through the air from the lady “Thank you!” I cooed as I walked away from the front desk and out the door into the car that was double parked waiting for me.

When I got in the car the look on Lando’s face asked if Lily picked up the envelope, to which I nodded my head before saying “Let me call Lily and ask if we can drop off Yelena while she’s planning.”

After a few rings Lily picked up the phone

“Hey Lily! I saw that you picked up the envelope yesterday. I was wondering if while you’re planning today if we could drop Yelena off, Logan came by yesterday and I have to deal with him” I said joyfully into the phone.

“Hey girl, sorry but I didn’t pick up the envelope yesterday. I had too many meeting to attend to, I was actually on my way to get it now” Lily replied back

A nervous look coated my face.

“If you didn’t pick it up. Who did?” my voice AND hands shaky

“Babe! Hang up the phone now and look at instagram! I’m gonna fucking kill him”

Lando’s face was 50 shades of red when I looked over. There was no way my worst fear was gonna come true. He’s not THAT disrespectful.

Unfortunately when I opened instagram it confirmed my worst nightmare.

———-

JUST A QUICK SUM SUM BEFORE I HAVE TO FINISH MY DOUBLE TN!!!

Taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal l @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @Ggasly.p @tellybearryyyy

[ashensgrotto]

Why, greetings my dear anon! I’m happy that you enjoyed the ‘Poor Unfortunate Souls’ to read it that many times - and I apologized that I haven’t been able to get started on the Scarbia segment yet (between that and Raison D’être plus work & other stories… and GloMas, I really need to get my priorities straight seriously -_-). However, I do intend on working on it as soon as I can so I can get it out sometime this month or in December - I mean, I think that would be the most logical since that one takes place during holiday break, right?

Now, for your request - I hope head cannons are alright for the time being. I’ll try to come back to them and do short stories for each of them that follows the same concept design as “Am I Feeling Love?” - which is the first installment of the Yandere!Azul series. I'm also going to divide this into two parts - about halfway through I realized I hadn't posted anything in a while and thus, I want to make it up to all of you for not writing or posting anything for some time.

Part 1 (Here) will feature Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, and Jamil Viper

Part 2 (Here) will feature Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, and Malleus Draconia

***

Vil Schoenheit

Vil is a combination yandere - he is both a studdle stalker type, but also a projection type. Of course, in his youth, he was an up-and-coming movie star… famous for the villainous roles he played. This caused a lot of grief in his childhood, not to mention some of the trauma he had endured from other children who believed everything they saw on the big screen - thinking it was real, even though it was just special effects and players playing their roles on the stage. And, even though Jack Howl became the closest thing he had to a friend, there was nothing that he could do to shake the fear of wanting to be ‘the good guy’, the ‘hero’... to be the most beautiful of all.

As a junior in Night Raven, Vil and the rest of Pompfiore were just as shocked as the rest of the school when you appeared. At first, Vil was not interested in what you may have to offer - but ever faithful Rook was the one to point out certain features you had; soft cheeks, a creamy complexion, eyes wide and filled with wonder - not to mention a figure that would’ve had some acting agencies dying for; you almost reminded him the the princess the fairest queen had raised years ago. Vil was reluctant, but stepped forward and offered the headmage a place for you to stay in Pomfiore until you could return home. 

It was at this point that Vil realized that you were more than what you appeared. Whatever he asked of you, you did it - to nearly perfection. Scrub the ballroom flooring? It shone brighter than diamonds when you were done. Wipe down the windows? Clear as crystals. Tend to the gardens around the dormitory? Neat and tidy without a single flower or bush out of line. This, of course, caused Vil to backpeddle a little bit - if anyone from outside the dorm found out about how well you followed instructions (specifically a certain lion or scheming octopus), there would be trouble. Hence, Vil decided to try and keep you close, luring you in like the villain he was always meant to play.

He learned quickly that your home in your world was… chaotic. You often traveled back and forth between two families, plus your grandparents. If you had a choice in the matter - you would’ve stayed with your father and your stepmother full time as your mother and her on-again-off-again boyfriend often mistreated you. You were in charge of the cooking, cleaning, and caring for the home while under your mother’s care and were often trapped in her home more times out of the year. Vil had remembered about Niege LeBlance’s situation when the two stars were children - he could sympathize with your situation - and decided to take you under his wing. Vigorous training began shortly thereafter, and you soon found yourself secured under Vil’s thumb. You, along with Epel, were put through beauty regimens regularly, vocal and annunciation lessons followed classes and chores, and fashion and gossip columns replaced your books at night; and if either of you tried to escape or slip out of something, ever faithful Rook brought you straight back to Vil - a disapproving scowl on his face, arms crossed over his chest, and heeled foot tapping, looking very much like a disapproving mother.

With the arrival of spring and the fast approaching date of the Cultural Fair, Vil’s energy became more focused on the SDC - working long hours into the night perfecting the team for the competition. You did try to help sooth much of the stress that had fallen on the headwarden and offered your assistance in any way you could, Grim acting as your assistant under the watchful eye of Rook. It was also here that things slowly began to take a turn for the worst - after the mention of Neige LeBlance, Vil had begun turning to his phone more often, asking it every day who was the most beautiful of all. Mira always answered… Neige LeBlance.

The last straw was when you and Rook attempted to stop him from poisoning Neige, the vice warden ordering Neige to run and evacuate the premises. The other members of the team rushing in at the sound of Rook’s shouting. Vil couldn’t forgive himself for what he had attempted to do… he was as ugly as the poison that he created. If only he was the fairest… if only Neige LeBlance hadn’t walked into his life again… if only you could understand what it meant to be… the fairest one of all…

Idia Shroud

Idia would also be a combination type yandere - possessive and clingy on a short list, with subtle stalker on the longer list. Not that anyone can blame him of course - his childhood was spent in it’s entirety on the Island of Woe, the next Shroud in line to take up the mantle as the Watchman of the Underworld. He, and his little brother Ortho, were the only children that lived in the facility, spending their days playing video games, reading manga and comic books, as well as creating original characters of their own. However, tragedy struck when the two boys snuck out of their room during a routine lockdown and one of the phantoms possessed the younger brother - Idia’s grief and self-blame pushed him away from others, even after he was able to reunite with his brother… in a technological sense.

Years later, during his junior year at NRC, Idia was surprised when Ortho volunteered to bring you into Ignihyde - as many other students were. When Idia demanded an explanation - Ortho explained the scan he did on you indicated that you had a lot of the same qualities as many of Ignihyde's students. What a drag - but what's done is done, and Idia found himself, not only in charge of a dorm, but an unexpected guest as well.

For the first few months, Idia holed himself up in his room - trying to avoid an encounter with the ‘normie’ of the dorm; the magicless guest of Ignihyde. Ortho attempted over and over again to get him to come out and meet the new member, telling him all about how interested you were in manga comics, fantasy RPGs, and the like - but Idia always refused… until one night during a routine midnight snack run, he ran into you. You were smaller than he expected you to be, the dorm’s heavy leather jacket baggy over your form - also swapping the typical heavy denim jeans and boots for leggings and slippers. Idia was even more surprised when you offered him a large roll of chocolate chip cookies you had picked up from the school store, a smile on your face, “Hello, I’m (y/n). You must be Idia, right?”

And following that first encounter, Idia slowly began to warm up to you. He was drawn to your sassiness and imagination, especially when the two of you talked about video games - Idia even went as far as to introduce you to his online friend, Muscle Red - the gamer excited about having another runner in the mix for events. 

However, what no one knew was that Idia slowly began to worm his way into your online presence. He hacked into your computer that Ortho had provided for you and watched when you were online, who you interacted with, and what you talked about. At first, Idia reasoned it was a way to get to know you - the best way to find out the internal workings of someone was to figure out about the mask you wore, right? But even so, the real pusher was when he was spying on a chatroom you were a part of and one member began insulting you - saying that you weren’t really a gamer, that you didn’t know anything about online gaming, or anime, and that you were a fake… a ‘normie’. If Idia had been standing next to you, you would have seen his typical calm blue hair turn red hot - hotter than the flames of Tartarus. No one was going to get away with calling his friend a ‘normie’ - magicless or not.

In the months that followed, Idia began to slowly attach himself to you - spending more time in your presence than ever before. Then, when he was summoned back to the Island of Woe to test the students that had overblotted, he brought you along with him, keeping you close as each test was conducted, examined, and recorded. The look on your face and the questions you asked him, yes, brought him joy.. But also made him worry - what did you think of him now that you knew what he was doomed to become? Would you eventually end up like Ortho because of his mistakes? Idia didn’t want to think about that… but even so, to be free of his responsibilities… to not have to be the caretaker of the Phantoms any longer… to reset the world… maybe then, you would be safe…

Malleus Draconia

Malleus follows the same combination style - he’s definitely the obsessive, the stalker, and possessive style. Living in Briar Valley, it’s no secret that as the next in line it is his duty to help provide an heir that will take over for him when the time comes. As his mother and father had loved each other before him, Malleus often wished for the same kind of companionship that they had - however it is hard with Lilia away caring for a young human and Sebek, hence the only thing Malleus has is the comfort of his dreams. He dreams a lot, images of a fair young human traveling through the forests of Briar Valley playing in his mind - Malleus far too fearful to approach.

Many years later - during his junior year at NRC - Lilia informs him of a strange individual that has arrived - a magicless guest that is to be taking residence within the Ramshakle dorm that was on the school campus. Of course, Lilia had known about Malleus’ tendency to spend quiet nights in the dorm, listening to the sounds of the old building creek, the windows rattling against the wind… the silence and stillness of the place. Even so, Malleus does continue to travel to the dorm at night, walking around the premises like a dragon guarding his hoard. One night, however, he encounters you - the child of man with no magic abilities whatsoever - and is surprised by how easily you talk to him, without any fear in your eyes, even more so when you nickname him ‘Tsunotarou’. It slowly becomes a habit for him, heading to the Ramshakle dorm each night daily to spend time with you and talk to you - the first friend he has outside of the protection of Silver and Sebek. 

Malleus often sends Lilia to keep an eye on you, much to the chagrin of Sebek - the elder warming up to you and sharing everything he finds interesting with you with his charge - how you love visiting the other dorms, spending time with Ace, Deuce, and Grim, the struggles you encounter… never mind each of the overblot incidents that cause destruction and harm. Malleus then uses the reports to gain your trust, always lending out a hand to help when needed and offering comfort when there was none to be had. You slowly became his secret treasure - something he wanted to hide away, to protect endlessly until the end of your days.

But still… to a fae, a hundred years can pass in the blink of an eye… a thousand years was just the same way… And when the revelation of Lilia’s powers slowly depleting became noticeable, Malleus became lost for words. He was losing the closest thing he had to a father… and you were close to finding a way back to your world. He couldn’t allow that - he couldn’t lose anyone that was close to him.

When the others attempted to stop him - Malleus easily overpowered them. After all, he is one of the top five mages of the world - his power as a Draconia was more than enough to defeat an army, let alone students in a magic school. With ‘Fae of Maleficence’ casted, darkness covered the school - pulling everyone into slumber and keeping them as they were indefinitely. Everyone could be the protagonist of their own story… everyone could be happy… to live in their current state… and he would never be alone again…