#also removed that terrible pink

[marklikely]

people r having an absolute fit over the frankie refresh having pink in it and i feel like im going insane. do these dolls not have more or less the exact same amount of pink in them.

[gloomwitchwrites]

First of all, I 100% know this is an overused trope... but still....

What If 141 2 people 1 bed trope

Who cares that it's an overused trope? It's a classic for a reason!

I will never tire of a one bed trope. It can be steamy and sexy. It can be angsty. It can be tense. It can literally be so many things at once. It's also a wonderful canvas to play around, and I had a lot of fun with this one. I know you've waited for this one for a while. I hope you enjoy it! :)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x TF141 Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, multiple positions, rough kissing, vaginal fingering, oral sex (male & female receiving), admission of feelings, pretend sex, fake dating/married

Word Count: 6.3k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Fuck,” mutters Price.

You glance over your shoulder. Captain Price stands near the hotel window, the gauzy blinds closed but the thicker ones bunched to the sides, allowing in natural light. He’s staring at something happening in the parking lot.

“What it is?” you ask, starting to walk over to him.

“They might have found us.”

Dread flares hot, clenching the muscles in your stomach until it hurts. “Are you sure?”

Price nods, and then backs away from the window. “There’s no way they saw our faces during the infiltration. We wore masks. Might have tracked the stolen car.”

“We need to leave,” you say, but Price shakes his head.

“There’s too many of them, and they’re likely watching all exits on the main floor.” He sighs. “We need to play this right.”

The two of you are freshly showered, and the clothes you wore for the infiltration have already been discarded. Burned—actually, somewhere in the deserts of Arizona. At the moment, the two of you look like civilians.

“They can’t search the building, John. Not without bloodshed.”

He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze darting across the room as his brain works something over. You fidget, picking at your nails. It’s a terrible habit. One you do when you’re nervous.

Price glances at you and your heart drops. “They look official, and that’s probably all that matters. The scrawny teenager at the front desk isn’t going to put up a fight if the credentials appear legitimate.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, striding toward the window to look for yourself.

Captain Price is right. They do look official. They also look fucking terrifying which would scare anyone into compliance if you don’t know what to look for.

“We’re on the bottom floor,” you say, stepping back.

“I know,” growls Price. He pivots, examining the entire room.

He goes for the car keys and shuts them inside the safe. The only other thing in the room is a duffle bag full of plain clothes and generic toiletries. Price pushes clothes aside and then draws out the pistol hiding beneath it all. He checks the clip and then preps the barrel.

“Take off your clothes.”

“What?” you ask, startled.

Price walks over to the singular bed in the room, tucking the gun beneath the pillows. “Do you trust me?”

“Absolutely,” you affirm.

“Then take off your clothes,” repeats Price, reaching behind his head with one hand to grab the collar of his shirt. He pulls it over and off, tossing it aside.

“Spread it around. Make a mess,” he instructs as he goes for the belt on his jeans.

For a moment, you’re stunned, staring at Captain Price’s bare chest. While he’s muscular, it isn’t from a life in the gym. He is thick in all the right places. A solid wall with a beautiful dusting of dark hair that travels downward.

The belt is gone, and that too is tossed aside.

Without removing your gaze, you tentatively discard your shirt, but keep your bra on. It’s a barrier. A safety net. Price isn’t even glancing at you, but you do notice some color at the tops of his cheeks. A soft pink that makes your thoughts spiral outward to imagine if this gentle blush is the same color as the head of his cock.

Price’s jeans go next, already discarded before you move on to the next article of clothing. He’s only in socks and black boxer briefs. There is so much of him on display that you’re starting to forget yourself.

He glances at you, and that color in his cheeks darken. “You’re still dressed.”

You open your mouth to answer but then you hear a shout from down the hall and sharp banging on a door. They’re far too close.

This urges you on, moving with faster intention, and once you’re down to just your bra and underwear, you finally glance at Price again.

Price—who is naked. Completely bare. And you have a full view of what he’s been packing underneath all that.

Fuck.

He approaches the bed, and tugs back the sheets. The muscles in his arms and back tense as he crumples the bedding to sexed perfection—as if the two of you have been going at it for hours.

Price sits down on the edge of the bed and slides underneath, his legs parting enough that you get a glimpse of everything. This man isn’t even fully hard but from what you can see, it would be a tight fit if you actually sat on him.

Lifting a pillow, Price checks for the pistol and then sets it back, settling into the sheets. He frowns slightly when his attention returns to you.

“All of that has to go.”

“Does it?” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

There’s another thunderous pounding on a nearby door followed by shouting.

“It does if we’re going to make it out of here alive.” Price shrugs, and then smirks. “Could help you.”

Sighing heavily and you reach behind your back, unclasping the bra. You hurl it at him and Price catches it out of the air. Crossing your arms over your chest, you hurry toward the bed. But you don’t make it beneath the sheets.

“Everything,” repeats Price.

Reaching out, Price snags the thin cotton fabric and pulls down, revealing you to him and the room. Instinct as you grasping for control, hands splayed over his large forearms as he gives the fabric another yank.

You cannot form a response. Words leave you as Price drags you into the bed with him.

“Sorry about this,” he grumbles, that color returning to his cheeks in full force. It’s cute actually—how sheepish he looks.

You swallow, and lick your lips. “It’s fine.”

Price leans back against the pillows, guiding you with him. “Get on top.”

Straddling his hips, you settle yourself over him. You try—and fail—to not notice the way the hard length of him nestles against your pussy. You keep one arm crossed over your breasts but all it does is hides your nipples from him. Your other hand is splayed wide and pressed against his chest.

“We’re married,” he says, staring into your eyes. “That’s the story. I’ll do the talking. You act like the scared wife when they come barging in.”

You nod, and Price releases a deep exhalation. His hands rest on your thighs. They’re a brand. Warm. All you can think about. They move upward to settle on your hips.

“Pretend you’re riding me,” he murmurs.

With a gentle hand, Price grasps your wrist, drawing your arm away from your breasts. You don’t resist, and he brings your other palm to rest against his chest.

“Pretend,” he reiterates, hands returning to your hips. Price creates the motion by dragging you back and forth, imitating a rocking motion. Though you’re stationary, your pussy still drags against the length of his cock.

You notice the tremor in his jaw as your bodies rub against each other. This is affecting him as much as it is you.

“Pretend,” you say back to him.

Price nods and then grabs for the television remote from the bedside table. He turns it on and then ups the volume. You imitate the motion he created, rocking back and forth, sliding yourself along his cock, pretending you don’t notice how wet you’ve become over the course of the last few minutes.

His hands return to your hips, and then Price sinks back completely into the pillows, his eyelids softening as he gazes up at you. It’s far too intimate of a stare, and it’s only compounded when one of his hands meander upward to slide over your stomach and then between your breasts. You gasp as his thumb traces the underside of your breast.

Head tilting back, you grind downward, finding yourself diving into the warmth that’s starting to pool low in your belly.

A sharp pounding at the door has you snapping to attention. Every muscle tenses. Seizes.

“You’re fine,” coos Price. “We’ll be fine.”

The pounding comes again and then a yell from behind it. The voice is muffled. Not only by the door but from the television.

Swallowing, you try to connect into it again, rolling your hips, imagining that Price is your husband—that you love him—and this is simply an exploration of that love.

When you roll your hips again, Price sits up slightly, his warm breath brushing against your breast. A tingle shudders through you, and Price groans before his tongue grazes over your nipple, bringing it to a point.

“Knew you’d taste sweet,” he says softly at the same moment the hotel door bursts open.

One second, you’re atop Price, and the next his arms are around you, turning you away from the door to hide you from sight. You’re not on your back but Price has shoved you toward the bed as he sits up, creating a barrier between you and the intruders.

The tactical-clad trio entering the room—with a hotel worker nervously trailing behind—

don’t even get a word in before Price starts going off on them.

“Get out! Get the fuck out!”

His accent is gone, replaced by an American one. It’s incredibly good, and his feigned anger even more so. The men entering faulter under Price’s tirade. They likely weren’t expecting this, and Price uses this opportunity to push the advance.

“We’re fucking busy in here. Fuck off!”

The man at the head of the trio clears his throat and holds up a hand, but Price chucks one of the water glasses at the man. The guy ducks and it shatters against the wall. The hotel worker at their back squeaks and pushes forward.

“We’re so sorry. Just a search for some prison escapees. We’re clearly in the wrong room.”

Prison escapees? You want to laugh but think better of it. Instead, you press your face against Price’s arm, feigning sheepishness.

Price’s lips turn into a snarl, and the hotel worker blanches.

“We’ll give you a complimentary stay for the inconvenience,” the man babbles before waving his arms to usher the other men out.

For a moment, you don’t think it’ll work, but they go.

You and Price don’t sigh with relief until the door shuts. His forehead presses against yours, chest heaving.

“Nice accent,” you whisper and this draws a smile from his lips.

“Like it more than this one?” he asks, his regular accent returning.

“Nope,” you say. “This one suits you fine.”

Price’s gaze draws over your exposed body and then lands on your face. It’s soft. Sensual. You’re frozen beneath it, breath catching as his fingers brush along the line of your jaw.

You’re not sure who moves first but his lips are on yours and then you’re moaning. Price rolls you onto your back, each kiss more demanding and fiercer than the last. He tastes of the mint toothpaste he used earlier and smells of soap.

Reaching between your bodies, you find him hard, and there is no other need within you but the one that craves for him to be inside. To fuck you ceaselessly.

You stroke him and Price groans into your mouth, his hand wrapping around your throat. Hooking your legs behind him, you guide him to your entrance. With a light press of your heels, Price takes your meaning.

There is no gentle pretense. No soft kisses or playful coaxing. Price goes all in, and you break the kiss to gasp aloud, nails digging into his back. Price is thick and having him inside you is a deliciously painful stretch.

It is all desperate the way he moves. Price isn’t gentle. It’s skin slapping against skin. It is sweat and groans. A savage hardness that borders on hysteria.

Your hand reaches behind you to press against the headboard as Price fucks you into the bed, but even that is shaking, banging loudly against the wall. It’s clear even over the drone from the television. The people next door will know exactly what the two of you are up to.

Price is relentless. A man starved. He nips at your bottom lip. Sucks it into his mouth. And when that isn’t enough, he goes for your neck and then your breasts, making your nipples smart and throb under his teeth and tongue.

The orgasm comes sharp and hot, bursting forth like a wave. And when you squeeze around him, Price is right there with you, his cum coating your insides as he too finds his end.

The two of you are all heavy breath. Sweaty limbs.

Price nuzzles the side of your neck, placing soft kisses there until he travels up to find your lips again. These are gentle. Not desperate like before.

When there’s a moment to speak, it is you that breaks the silence.

“So much for pretending.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It’s the middle of the day but you wouldn’t be able to tell.

A storm is raging—the rain thick and heavy. It falls from the sky in large drops that soak clothes and slick the skin. It’s a bit cold, too. A little chilly. The kind of wet chill that hardens the nipples and brings a shiver to your bones.

“Here. You’re soaked.”

Kyle presents a towel. It’s off-white and a bit frayed. But what can you expect from a motel in the middle of nowhere? Having a towel at all is nice. At least it isn’t threadbare.

“Thanks,” you reply softly, gently dapping the rough-textured material against your face.

Kyle strides over to the heating unit. It’s dirty and barely anchored to the wall. He hits a few buttons and then the thing turns on. It’s loud. Clunky. But heat starts to seep from the slats, warming the room.

After drying your face, you begin to remove outer pieces of clothing. Kyle might be your teammate, but there isn’t really anywhere to hide but the bathroom. Knowing the state of most motels, you don’t really want to find out either.

Kyle has the same idea. He dries off with his own towel, removing soaked articles of clothing as he goes. You try not to look—to be discreet—but it’s hard not to steal a peek. Kyle is all toned muscle and firmness. There’s a light dusting of hair on his chest. It’s a bit thicker around his navel. It trails downwards, and your mind wanders to a place it shouldn’t.

You glance away but not fast enough. His gaze roams upward, finding you, and there he pauses, observing you as you did him.

Pretending is best.

You attempt to act like you don’t notice him at all, turning your back like you’re incredibly interested with the wallpaper that likely hasn’t been replaced in years.

It’s his heat that draws your attention—that steals your breath, and makes every muscle in your body tense with anticipation.

“You’re shivering,” he murmurs.

Kyle is so close. Close enough that his breath brushes against your bare shoulder. You’re just in your bra and underwear, the only items that aren’t completely soaked from the rain.

He inhales, and that exhalation teases your flesh again. Giving in, you close your eyes, sinking into Kyle’s presence.

When you open them again, you notice a mirror hanging on the wall. It’s great if you were trying to plan an outfit, but that isn’t what you notice.

Instead, you see yourself. And Kyle.

The backs of his knuckles lightly caress the side of your arm. His head is tipped forward and turned inward like you’ll turn around any moment to kiss him.

The urge is there. Tugging. Wanting you to do just that.

The two of you are always walking around the other, seeking comfort and closeness but never seizing it. Maybe you should. Maybe—turning around is the best thing you can do for yourself.

“Kyle,” you breathe, and his little hum in answer tightens that string.

Without hesitation, you do turn.

Kyle’s lips are right there. They’re parted slightly. Inviting.

His arm drapes across your waist, hand splaying wide against your stomach, pressing until the two of you are sandwiched together.

It’s not like you don’t want this. You do. You want Kyle. Have since the moment he introduced himself to you. But the two of you have always remained professional in every space you occupy.

And now there is no one around.

No one to see.

No one to know.

Your head tips back in answer, and Kyle leans into it, pressing his lips to yours. It is sweet. Gentle. More of an ask than anything else.

And you reply, meeting him in equal measure. The pressure on your stomach increases just as Kyle’s other hand wraps around the front of your throat, holding you still. Each kiss is a claiming, one you freely submit to.

Kyle is all sugared-warmth, and you want to rot your teeth.

Draping your arm around the back of his neck, you pull him closer. Kyle nips. Bites. Sucks your bottom lip into his mouth before soothing the burn with a few tender kisses. Heat blossoms in your core before morphing into an aching slickness.

You’ve been putting him off—brushing him aside.

Why wait any longer when Kyle is all you crave?

“Fucking hell, love,” he groans against your mouth.

Your lips part, and Kyle slides his tongue inside. His taste is everything, but you want to know him everywhere.

Your hand seeks, brushing against his hardness through his boxer briefs. When you slip your hand beneath the elastic band, Kyle’s only response to kiss you harder.

Wrapping your fingers around him, you start to stroke what you can with the little room you have. Your thumb brushes over the head of his cock and Kyle draws back.

“I’ve wanted this since I met you,” he says, voice a bit rough.

Twisting in his grip, you turn to face him. “Can I show you how much I’ve wanted you, too?” you ask, pressing your breasts against his chest.

Kyle loosens his hold and you drop to your knees, taking his boxer briefs with you. His cock is gorgeous. It curves upward slightly, and a pearly bead of precum blooms in the slit.

He whispers your name, and then you have him in hand. Stroking once. Twice.

You lick off that bead. Savor his taste. Go back for more.

Kyle grabs the back of your head, drawing you to him. You open your mouth. Swallow him down. Throating him until you gag.

“Fuck,” he groans, elongating the vowel.

You work him with hand and mouth, keeping a steady rhythm that has him weak and wanton. You have all the control—until you don’t.

“Let me fuck your mouth, love. Please.”

The please is what does it. You release his cock, placing both hands on his thighs. With a pleased growl, Kyle keeps your head stationary. You anticipate the first thrust, and it is sinful. The movement goes straight to your pussy as you imagining him fucking you there like he fucks your mouth.

Fingers dig into muscled thigh. You want to touch yourself, to tease your clit while he does it. He is a god above you—Adonis.

“Can’t wait to taste your cunt, love,” rasps Kyle. “Can’t wait to make you drip for me.”

His desire fuels your own, and you urge him on, gently cupping him with one hand, thumb lightly rubbing the sensitive strip of flesh there.

Kyle’s hips stutter, and you relax your throat, humming around his cock as your lips meet the base. He holds you there, and you take it all, thighs chaffing from the friction of you rubbing them together in anticipation.

You blink up at him, and Kyle wipes away a tear with his thumb.

“My turn,” he murmurs.

You’re on your feet and then on your back in seconds. All the wind is knocked out of you, and then Kyle’s tongue is there, sliding through your slickness. Parting. Teasing the opening of your vagina before trailing upward to circle around your clit.

Gasping, your hands reach for him. Kyle grabs both wrists, keeps them planting on your stomach as he fucks you with his tongue. His shoulders dig into your thighs, keeping them wide. He’s stronger than you even as your thighs quiver, wanting to close, wanting to shut.

Kyle groans against your pussy, and then he’s on your clit, moving in such an easy, languid way that everything explodes outward. A shudder passes from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. Your pussy clenches. Unclenches. Clenches again.

Kyle doesn’t let up. He doesn’t cease. Every stroke strikes true and then your body betrays itself, overstimulation setting in, and the urge to wiggle away is paramount.

But just as you push at him—just as your body draws back. Kyle is releasing your wrists, pushing himself up and over you, spreading those legs even wider to slide inside.

The bed creaks beneath you, and then he’s thrusting.

Your moans of pleasure become one with the rain.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Single lamp. Lone bed.

Peeling paint. Dusty corners.

“Something’s on your mind.” Your voice is the only sound in the room other than the AC unit.

Soap’s sigh is soft and small as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

It’s the last night before the potential end. Before victory or failure. Just the two of you now with the plan to meet up with others later.

He nods, and you take a tentative step forward. “We attended the briefing. You know the details.”

“Aye.”

“Then what has you worried?” you ask, taking another step in Soap’s direction.

A warm, orange glow emits from the singular lamp on the bedside table. It’s not enough light to illuminate the cheap peeling paint or the dirt in the corners of the room. It only gives life to the bed and the side of Soap’s face.

It’s not like you have an unlimited budget. A motel room is the best the two of you could manage for some rest before moving on. The man at the desk didn’t even glance up when he asked if they only wanted a room for an hour.

You had asked for two beds. The man at the desk replied that no one who stops here asks for that.

One bed it is.

One bed.

Somehow, you’ll have to sleep beside Soap while simultaneously shoving down the urge to reach out to him.

Sighing, Soap leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. His gaze drifts slightly as if he’s not focusing on anything in particular. Running his fingers through his short mohawk, he tugs on the ends, mussing the freshly washed strands, creating a wavy mess.

Just that one movement as you leaning forward, nostrils flaring to inhale that clean scent.

“Adaptability,” he answers. Finally.

Instead of sitting on the bed beside him, you sink to your knees, resting your arm on the bed, and your chin on your arm.

The two of you have been on missions before but never together like this.

Never alone.

Keeping your gaze downward, you notice just how close you are to him—and how Soap leans in your direction, the edge of his knee brushing against the side of your hand.

It’s a small contact, but he’s warm, and that warmth is transferring into yourself, unspooling outward. It’s a difficult thing—because all this time you’ve harbored feelings for him, and yet have never acted on them.

“You’re quick on your feet, Soap,” you murmur, one finger absently extended to brush over the curve of his knee.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You can call me Johnny.”

Johnny. You’ve never called him that. Soap, sure. Sergeant MacTavish? All the time.

“I thought Ghost only had that right.”

Only Ghost calls Soap ‘Johnny.’ That’s understood by everyone.

Soap shrugs. “He did.” He glances at you, his smile widening. “But I’d like to hear you say it.”

Something swirls in your stomach, twisting like a knife.

“How would you like to hear it?” you reply.

Johnny’s smile, which is so wide and teasing, softens into a sultry smirk. “I have options?”

“You do.”

Johnny’s usual playfulness emerges. “Say it like you’re angry with me.”

“Johnny,” you say, deepening your voice to sound like Ghost.

He bursts out laughing, falling back onto the bed, clutching his stomach. “Oh, aye. I’ll give you that.”

“What else?” you tease. “I demand more.”

“Say it like you’re annoyed with me.”

You do just that, and Johnny sits up, turning on his side.

“Again,” you prompt.

The middle of Johnny’s brow creases and then his hand cradles the side of your face. He closes the distance, kissing you deeply—as if you are his lover and not a friend.

But you don’t pull away. You indulge yourself, kissing him back just as sweetly.

You’re not sure how much time passes, just that it does, and his small retreat after it’s done is all you have in acknowledging its passing.

The withdrawal is short. Johnny doesn’t move away. He keeps his hand on your cheek. The tip of his nose nearly brushing yours.

“Say it now,” he breathes, voice raspy.

“Johnny,” but it’s not what you intended to say.

He sighs. “Again.”

“Johnny.”

This time he groans, and then your lips are fusing, becoming one. You’re dragged off the floor and into his arms, tangling in his heat, forgetting yourself completely.

“Johnny,” you repeat, and then your shirt is gone, followed by your bra.

He nips at the curve of your breasts before sucking your nipple into his mouth. His teeth graze flesh and you say his name again until it becomes a strangled moan.

The front of your jeans is open, and his hand is there, cupping your sex, fingers dragging through your wetness.

“Johnny,” but it’s to stop him, to remind him that this cannot go on.

“Fucking hell. Love the way you say my name.”

This melts your resolve. Makes your legs spread wider. Makes you shove at your pants and create plenty of space.

Johnny knows. He understands.

He yanks them down even as he peppers your breasts with little nips and kisses. Your fingers drags through his hair as he sucks the other nipple into his mouth, bringing it to perky attention.

One finger slides inside, and you groan loudly, legs falling wide as Johnny settles himself between.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, claiming your mouth and pumping his finger. You whimper as he inserts a second. “Wanted you so bad.”

Your pussy flutters, squeezing around him. It is Johnny that groans this time, and it is a primal sound.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks. “Please.”

“Johnny,” you breathe. “Johnny.”

“Need a yes or no. Tell me. Do you want me? I’ve wanted you.”

You answer by finding him—guiding him to the place you need him to.

With a low growl, Johnny pins your arms above your head, slotting his pelvis against yours, the head of his cock sinking in until you’re taking all of him.

“Johnny!”

“That’s what I want to hear,” he croons, starting to thrust.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“I can’t tell what blood is yours and what isn’t.”

“Can fucking do it myself.”

“Ghost—”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Simon,” you snap, and he stops fidgeting.

Behind the plain balaclava, you see the fire in Lieutenant Riley’s eyes. This man is your superior. At least, right now he is. But the mission is done. It’s over. Yet the two of you are stranded, and making contact with Price is going to take time.

Not to mention that Simon is injured, and you have no fucking idea where at.

“Let me help you,” you say as soothingly as possible.

You don’t want to fight with him. All you want is to help Simon, to clean him up, and get him into bed. Rest and healing are what he needs right now. Contacting Price can wait. Base can stew for a while longer.

The two of you are in a motel room in the middle of fucking nowhere America. It’s shit overall, but it will have to do. There’s no way anyone is searching for the two of you out here. You drove until you nearly ran out of gas, and then you refilled and drove some more. Simon was in the back of the car, covered in blood.

But he was awake. Moving. Not a head injury, and not enough to get him immediate medical treatment. Not like he would have allowed you to take him to a hospital anyway. Lieutenant Riley is fucking stubborn. Sometimes infuriatingly so.

Simon stares, hard, his dark eyes intense behind the balaclava. He blinks, and then pushes up from the chair, keeping his gaze trained on you.

“Lieutenant,” you mutter, annoyed.

As Simon stands and attempts to take a step forward, his left leg wobbles, and he nearly topples forward. Your arms go out to catch him, holding him steady. He’s a big guy, and he seems to know this because he tries to prop himself up using the chair.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” you snap.”

“Listen—”

“I’m not arguing with you Simon Riley.”

Using his full name shuts him up. It’ll likely earn you a reprimand later, but fuck it, you’re over this.

“Stay there.” You shove him back down into the chair and head into the bathroom.

There is a single overhead light. Flipping the switch turns it on and the fan. It’s a tight space, but thankfully the shower isn’t also a tub. That would be a nightmare getting him in. Instead, there is a sink, a toilet, and a dividing wall that cuts the room in half. It’s more like a locker shower but it’ll work.

Reaching in, you turn the handle. You jump back as cold water shoots out of the shower head. After waiting for a few seconds, steam starts to rise.

You take a deep breath, knowing what you have to do. “You got this,” you murmur, heading back into the room.

Simon leans forward in the chair, forearms resting on his knees.

You hold out your hand. “Let’s go.”

Lieutenant Riley’s head swivels in your direction. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” you reply, holding firm. “Come on.”

With a deep sigh, Simon reaches out and slides his hand into yours. It’s warm. Calloused. You squeeze it and step forward, extending your other arm to wrap around his torso. Simon stands. Wobbles. But you snake your arm around him, and then it’s a slow trek into the bathroom.

Simon is limping, but he’s showing no other signs that his injury hurts him. Might be minor, or he’s just good at covering up the pain.

Once the two of you are inside the bathroom, you realize just how small the space is. Maneuvering Simon to the shower is difficult, a weird dance to wiggle around the door and toilet to the opening of the shower.

You retreat slightly, and Simon leans against the wall, his eyelids closing as he takes a deep breath.

“You good?” you ask, concern creasing your brow.

Simon nods. “I’ll manage.” His eyelids open slowly and then he stares into the shower. “You want me in there?”

“You’ll need to remove a few things first,” you reply, gesturing toward his uniform.

Simon snorts. “Trying to get me naked?”

“You wish,” you retort, even as your cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Need help?”

At first, Simon doesn’t say anything. He just reaches for his belt, removing it slowly with one hand.

“I’ll leave you to it,” you mumble, starting to turn away.

“Wait.”

You freeze, and then glance over your shoulder. “What is it?”

Simon shrugs. “What if I slip? Might need you to catch me.”

This bastard.

“Then I’ll stay,” you reply cooly, pretending that this doesn’t affect you.

But it does. It’s reshaping you, and Simon’s slow undressing isn’t helping things. He keeps his gaze on you the entire time, and you purposefully keep your eyes averted, when really you want to look. You want to know what he’s like under all that.

The belt goes. So does his tactical gear and jacket. Next is his shirt followed by his balaclava. You sneak a peek then, and Simon grins at you like he knew you’d look eventually.

“I’ll need some help with these. Getting them down that is.” Simon gestures towards his pants and you feel your face grow so hot you fear it might explode.

“Sure.”

You reach for him, silently chastising your shaking fingers. This is too much, even though you like it, and want more from it. You undo the button and zipper. Sliding your hands beneath the band, you shimmy Simon’s pants to the floor. He kicks them away and all that’s left are his boxer briefs. They’re tight and you notice the massive bulge in front.

Fuck.

“You can do the rest,” you reply, glancing away.

Simon removes them, and then he starts forward, arms outstretched to balance himself as he enters the shower.

“Fucking hell,” moans Simon as the hot water hits his body.

The groan that comes after is deep, and so sultry you feel a bolt of pleasure spike from your pussy.

“Should join me.”

“No thanks,” you say, averting your gaze away from Simon’s muscled backside.

One moment you’re facing the wall, and the next you’re under the spray of water.

“What the fuck,” you shriek, stumbling backward as Simon chuckles. Muttering under your breath, you stare down at your soaked clothing. “Goddamn it.” You start removing articles of clothing, the wet fabric peeling away from your skin.

“Fucking fine, Simon.”

You shed everything and storm under the spray, only for Simon to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you against him. There is no pause between then and the moment his lips find yours. It is sweet, and warm. You instantly melt, enjoying every second.

But it’s fleeting.

You draw back, heart hammering in your chest.

“You’re covered in blood. Remember?”

Simon shrugs and then offers you the soap. “Clean me then.”

You do it, and when you’re done, he does the same for you. It’s far too intimate, and Simon’s gentleness is surprising. Once finished, you dry and bandage the wound on his leg. It’s not terrible—and will likely need stitches—but it’s not bleeding anymore.

The singular bed in the middle of the room is far too small. Not with Simon in at, spread out and naked under the sheets.

You slide in beside him, not knowing where you should settle. Simon is large, taking up most of the best. The only place is curled up next to his side.

Turning your resolve to steal, you settle in. You begin to turn away from Simon, but his arm shoots out, grasping your waist. You’re yanked across the bed, only to find yourself in Simon’s arms.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Stop pretending, love. We both know what’s going on. Don’t deny it.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Simon—”

“We’ve been making eyes at each other for fucking months. And now we’re alone. You think I don’t see the opportunity?”

Simon’s hand slides over the curve of your ass, and then dips beneath your shirt. You’re not wearing underwear, and when his fingers brush over your pussy, you gasp, pressing into him.

“You’re already wet for me,” growls Simon as he drags a finger through your folds. “So fucking wet.” He presses in, and your pussy parts for him.

“We can’t, Simon. You’re injured.”

“Not so much,” he coos. “Especially since I can do this.” On this, Simon drags the tips of his finger along the inside your pussy, hitting that sweet spot.

You moan, fingers digging into his chest as your back arches to press you further down on him.

“It’s just my leg that’s injured.” Simon’s lips brush against your cheek and then the edge of your ear. His breath is warm against your skin. “I can still fuck you. Have you on top. Bounce you on my cock.” Simon gives the curve of your ear the faintest kiss. “Would you like that, love? Do you want me to fuck you?”

“We—we—”

With his other hand, Simon grasps the back of your neck, drawing you against him, silencing whatever it is you’re trying to say. He seizes your mouth in a fierce kiss. You open for him, and his tongue slides inside. He tastes nice, and you want to sink into the feeling. Have him devour you completely.

“Let me in,” he murmurs against your lips.

You push up, doing exactly as he wants you to do. You settle on his lap, his hard cock pressed up against your thigh.

With a low growl, Simon removes your shirt, leaving you completely bare to his gaze.

“Much better,” he says, cupping your breasts as you lean on his chest, lifting your hips.

His cock slides through your folds, and then you start the descent, moaning as he splits you in two. The stretch is intense—nearly sharp with pain, but laced with pleasure. Simon’s eyelids flutter slightly, and his groan is pure sin.

Simon lightly squeezes your breasts one more time before his hands find your hips. He lifts you up, and then back down, bouncing you on his cock. You cling to him, allowing him to use you, to fuck you in whatever way he wants.

Each grunt and growl from him only makes you wetter. Hungrier.

“I’m gonna come inside you.”

It’s not a question. There is no other option, and you wouldn’t take anything else even if there was.

“Please,” you whimper.

Simon’s hands tighten, his hips thrusting upward to meet every downward movement. He sits up, his mouth clamping around a nipple to nip and suck. Your orgasm roars up from nowhere, and then you’re clenching around him, milking Simon’s cock as his own end greets him.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

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@gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @vrb8im

[unactive-shroom]

Take Aim!

Characters: Inumaki Toge

Warning: Gun mention (in a fair game)

a.n: Take a shot of alcohol every time I switch from Toge to Inumaki omg

Inumaki was pissed.

You didn’t need to hear his digruntled ‘Tuna mayo’ nor see his face to tell this, because you were just as mad as he was.

The smug attendee at the fair game, however, was not.

“Well, that’ll be another 300 yen if you wanna win your girl that cute plushie over there!” he smiled at the two of you, flashing his yellow teeth in that smug smile.

Inumaki grunted and went to pull out another handful of cash, before you placed a hand on his arm. “Toge, really, we should move on. We can get it online with Gojo’s card later, or something. I don’t mind!”

He gently pushed your arm away and angrily shoved the cash towards the vendor, determined to get that plushie for you. You groaned beside him, pulling on his arm once again.

“Okay wait, can you at least let me try this time?”

He laughed and let out a “Salmon” in such a tone that you knew he was recalling your terrible aim during the Kyoto exchange event, where the ball very nearly hit Itadori, who was drinking water behind you in the stands.

Regardless, he handed you the rusty old shotgun and gave you a peck on the cheek for good luck. You turned the gun over in your hands. The plastic pellets were already loaded - three to be exact. Despite your terrible aim in baseball, you were actually pretty decent with guns. Your uncle was a hunter, and you spent countless summers shooting at trees and cans, since you refused to hurt a poor animal. You raised the gun onto your shoulders and took aim.

Ting! With perfect aim, you skillfully hit the first can down. You could sense Inumaki grin beside you, but you didn’t break your focus. You had a plushie to win, and a boyfriend to impress.

Ting! The second one can fell down and you were certain you saw the vendor frown slightly, before resuming his cocky grin. “Well, you still have three cans to hit, sunshine, and with one bullet I don't think that's very-”

Ting! Ting! Ting! Shooting from an angle, you managed to knock down one can, bringing down the other ones with it. You and Toge grinned as you high fived excitedly and turned to the vendor.

“… You cheated.”

“Uhm? No I didn’t? I won fair and square!”

“Nah, you can’t shoot from an angle. Rules ‘r rules, miss.”

“But you didn’t say that at all! You litterally said the only rule was three bullets, and to stand behind the line. I did that!” You cried indignantly, but the vendor had already turned away, suddenly becoming very fascinated by the cash in his pouch.

You pouted, about to turn to your boyfriend to whine about the whole situation, only to find that he had removed the hood around his mouth.

“Give her whatever plushie she wants.”

The vendor immediately turned around and smiled expectantly.

“um… I’ll take that.. big sanrio one, please.”

The vendor begrudgingly handed over the massive plushie to you, and you and Toge began to leave the arcade section of the fair. The second you had left the area, Inumaki took a swig from a cough bottle. You immediately engulfed him in a massive hug, plushie and all.

“Thank you! I love you! But also please don’t use your cursed speech for something silly like a plush from a fair, it’s not worth the pain in your throat, Inu.”

He hugged you back with a croaky “Tuna, tuna”, before spotting Itadori and Nobara dragging a dizzy Megumi off some crazy looking ride.

They immediately ran over, in awe of the massive plushie in your arms.

“Huuh?? Did Inumaki really win this for you, y/n? That’s crazy!”

You giggled as you grabbed Inumaki’s hand, a grin spreading across your face.

“’Course he did, he’s such a gentleman!”

Inumaki returned the hood to his face to cover the pink blush spreading across his face, but not before Panda and Maki returned, immediately poking fun at how much of a softie he’s become.

Requests r open, but very slow.

[gorgeys]

Madison request maybe a first date kind of thing, based on her recent fair post

you look so good in this light ★ madison beer

Madison Beer x femsinger!reader

your first date at the county fair is picture perfect

Warnings: SUPER fluffy, kissing

Word Count: 600

Note: i'm so obssessed w femsinger!reader so i did that again. but there's only one part in the fic where i really mention that reader is famous.

also send more madison requests 🫠

everything felt strangely normal.  walking arm in arm around the moderately empty fair almost felt too natural and easy. a little voice in the back of your head was waiting for something terrible to happen.

but that bad thing would never come. instead, you lean into madison's side and laugh along to made-up back stories she creates for all the different people you passed.  one of your arms is wrapped tightly around hers, like a toddler refusing to let go of their mommy in fear that she would magically disappear, and the other holding the giant teddy bear she won you at a sharpshooter game.  safe to say you were pleasantly surprised by her skill with the water gun.  but, judging by the proud, all-knowing smile she sent you after the victory bell rang, she wasn't.  you picked out the pink bear with red hearts in it's eyes and proudly held the bear up in front of you, staring into the hearts.

"don't worry, buddy," madison said to the bear while draping a loose arm around your waist.  "i look at her the same way."

your heart swelled in your chest as you turned toward her with the cheesiest smile.  you couldn't help but squeeze her in the tightest hug you had ever given another human being.

"you're the best," you mumbled into her shoulder, just loud enough for her to hear it and smile.

and that was only a fragment of your perfect, official first date together.

you shared pizza and fried oreos, almost threw up on the tilt-a-whirl, and now, you would watch the California sunset from the top of the ferris wheel.

you had let the brim of your tattered high school baseball cap fall low in front of your eyes to avoid being noticed.  miraculously, no one had approached you all night, allowing you some normalcy.  if this is what it felt like to be a regular person, on a regular first date, you would trade fame for regular any day.

but now, as you sit across from her in one of the ferris wheel cars, almost at the top, you remove your cap and smooth out your hair.  when your eyes meet madison's, she's already fixated on you.

the setting sun is perfectly hitting the skin of your face.  you're in your golden hour.

"you look so good in this light," she says so delicately, leaning forward onto the edge of her seat as she studies you like a renaissance painting.

it's impossible to restrain your dumb smile.

"you're straight out of a movie, you know that?" you say, resting your elbow on your knee and your chin in your hand.  you look at her as if she's a rom-com character come to life.  "you're my patrick swayze just way cuter and prettier and...well, better."

she chuckles softly, then places a hand on your knee.

"you know what'd make this a real rom-com?" she asks, that familiar proud expression returning to her face as her nails scratch gently against your skin.

"hmm?" you give her a subtle nod.  the quirk of your lips shows you have a pretty good idea of what she means.

she doesn't have to say anything else. she leans into you and her pink lips make their mark on yours.  her hands move to hold your cheeks, while your own hands loosely hang around her arms.  all is perfect as your car halts at the top of the ferris wheel and the sun tucks itself away into the horizon behind you.

[petrichor-writings]

ＬＡＣＥ (18+)

toji fushiguro x fem!reader

warnings : smut, slightly controlling toji, non-sorcerer au, oral sex (both receiving), implied age gap, fingering, edging, unprotected sex, using a lace ribbon as hand restraints, the use of the word "mamas" and "ma", toji's thighs are fucking huge, so are his hands, innocence kink, daddy kink, lowkey breeding kink, dumbification kink, dacryphilia, toji is a tease, couch sex, author can't be bothered with proper capitalisation so it's in lowercase.

wc: 2.2k

ao3 link

(a/n): haven't written smut in a WHILE and as my first post on this account i hope it's not too terrible loll

the bow had been a mid-day addition to your outfit. a simple piece of  lace you had seen at the craft store that matched your outfit perfectly, and somehow doubled the innocent angel vibe that your outfit gave off. which is why when you came back to your shared apartment wearing the delicate white lace in your hair you nearly gave toji a heart-attack. 

of course, you couldn’t tell that toji was basically going into cardiac arrest on the couch, as he was still rather stoic. the only real indication of his internal struggle were his narrowed gaze, now tracking you across the room, and the slight crunch of the metal beer can in his now tightened grasp. it wasn’t until the older man opened his mouth that you realised what you were in for. 

“what’s that you got there mamas?” his voice was low borderline growling. 

“what toji? the shopping? it’s the grocery’s you wanted and the stuff from the craft store!” you responded with a smile, trying to feign innocence. 

“mmmm.” toji said, setting down his beer and beckoning you over. “thats not what i meant. and i think you know that.”  

you now stood in front of him, in between his spread legs, trying to still feign innocence in the situation. he smiled but it was more of a smirk, his eyes darkening as he removed the shopping bags from your hands and set them on the coffee table to his left. 

your cheeks began to warm as his large hands found your hips and dragged you into him, now having you straddle him on the couch, the evidence of his arousal pressed against you. one of his hands kept you in place, a silent warning to not move as the other reached up and untied the bow from around your hair. 

“still don’t know what im talking about?” he grinned as he dangled the strip of lace in front of your face. “i don’t remember seein’ this in your outfit this morning. which means it wasn’t approved, was it?”

“oh… that.” you couldn’t deny it now, not with the evidence of your rule breaking right in front of your face, grasped in between toji’s thick fingers. “m’sorry” you said eyes struggling to meet toji’s. 

“what're we sorry for mamas? let’s be specific huh?” he asked, the hand on your hip moving to your thigh, kneading the thick flesh there. 

“m’sorry for not following the rules, for not getting it approved by you before adding it to my outfit.” you mumbled, sheepishly meeting his eyes. 

“mmm that's a good apology baby, but what happens to pretty little girls who break the rules?” he cocked his head to the side, looking at you expectantly.

“we get punished.” your voice was a whisper now and toji’s grip on your thigh had become bruising.

“that’’s right!” the grin coupled with the menacing look in toji’s eyes simultaneously unsettled you and aroused you. and you knew he knew, you knew that he could feel the wetness pooling in the white lace panties that he had picked that morning, just below the little pink denim shorts he had also picked. 

"now… what punishment to choose is the question…" toji's voice trailed off in thought, the gears turning in his mind as he looked mischievously between the lace still clutched in his hand and your face. 

"sweater off and wrists out baby." he said, all but growling in excitement. "no touching for today." 

you whined in protest as you offered your wrists to the man, "but-".

"no buts. or else we'll add no cumming to that list. in fact you should be grateful you're even gonna get to cum today, after breaking my rules. how 'bout a thank you, lil ma?" 

"thank you daddyyyy." you said, dragging out the y in the word as he tied the lace tightly around your wrists in makeshift handcuffs. 

"mmm, that's what i like to hear." toji smirked, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before lifting you off his lap and onto the floor in between his thick thighs. slowly he pushed down his sweats, revealing his hardened cock, the tip an angry red and leaking. "you know what to do ma, but remember no touching. or else you really won't like what happens." 

the older man gripped the base, holding it in place as you placed small kisses along the shaft, working your way up to the tip, licking the beads of precum off his skin before taking him into your mouth. his hands retracted from himself before they threaded into your hair and slowly you bobbed your head up and down, trying to take him in further with each movement. 

"just like that baby…" toji says with a small groan, breathing getting heavier with every movement of your mouth around him. you smile internally as you let your own moan reverberate through your body, the vibrations around his dick sending waves of pleasure through toji. 

you can tell he's nearing his release, his deep moans and groans becoming more frequent and his cock twitching in your throat. suddenly the hands that were loosely threaded in your hair become rigid and he pulls you off of him with a pop. 

"as nice as that feels, the only place i'm cumming tonight is in that pretty little pussy of yours." toji releases your hair but grasps your bound wrists, using the lace to guide you back onto the couch as he slots himself between your thighs. 

slowly the man runs his hands across your thighs, working them up your hips before his fingers find the button of your shorts, peeling them off of your body and chucking them haphazardly across the living room of the apartment. his fingers find you again and he locks his gaze with yours, smirking as he lazily strokes your core gently through the white lace of your underwear. 

this goes on for a few moments before you finally whine in annoyance, grinding yourself down further into his hand. "please toji, need it so bad." 

"aww do you need somethin' there mamas? if you do use your words like i taught you." he responded, fingers teasing the edge of the cloth covering your now drenched cunt.

"please toji, need your fingers, mouth anythin', pleaseeee." you half begged, half moaned.

"well, since you asked so nicely." toji's finger curled around the edge of the white lace at the crotch, tugging the material down your thighs and legs, discarding it to join your shorts elsewhere in the room. 

slowly he sank one of his long thick fingers into you, mouth moving to capture yours as he did so, swallowing the moan that you released at the intrusion. he broke the kiss as he began to pump the digit in and out of you, adding a second and relishing in the mewl that escaped your lips before working his mouth back down your naked body, licking and kissing and bruising the flesh that was fortunate enough to come in contact with his mouth. 

when he had reached three fingers inside of you he could feel your orgasm rapidly approaching. most of the time he could tell it was coming before you did, knowing the subtle signs your body let off like the back of his hand, but he waited until it was clear you knew your release was approaching, face contorting in pleasure as you felt the knot in your stomach heat and curl, waiting to snap, before completely stopping his movements and retracting his hand altogether. 

your eyes snapped open as you felt your orgasm get ripped away from you, looking down at the devilish green eyes staring back at you. your arms flexed instinctively and toji gave you a sharp look as your hands moved, a silent reminder of your punishment.

"daddy please, please you said i was still allowed to cum." you frowned, eyes welling up with tears as you looked at the stoic man below you.

"you will mamas, i promise, just not yet, okay?" you nod enthusiastically at his response and let out a squeak as he returns a finger back to your dripping and needy hole without warning. 

he works your hole faster this time, second and third fingers joining fairly quickly before dropping his mouth to your fleshy thighs, still pumping his fingers into you, curling his fingers to hit that squishy spot inside of you, but now also pressing hot open mouthed kisses along your skin. 

he quickly makes his way to the apex of your thighs, before latching his mouth to your clit, gently teasing the nub. as you whine and moan and twitch above him toji removes his fingers once more, immediately replacing them with his mouth and tongue, eating you out like a man starved as his fingers take up the job of stimulating your sensitive clit, tracing delicate circles into it. 

you reach your high faster this time, and same as before toji rips himself away from your core just seconds before you can get there. you're crying at this point and toji smiles a little, relishing in the fact that you're so desperate for the pleasure that only he can provide you, you'd allow yourself to cry over not getting it. 

"you taste so sweet baby, too sweet to be crying." he lifts himself from the ground, licking the rest of your slick from his lips and fingers before leaning over you and carefully kissing away the tears that rolled down your cheeks. 

"jus' wanna cum daddyyyy" you sob, breathing shallow as your hole clenches around nothing, longing for your boyfriend to give you any sense of relief. 

"you will baby, jus' wanted you to wait until i was inside, wanted you to cream on my cock, is that so much to ask?" he asks with faux sadness, lining up his still rigid cock with your slick covered entrance. 

"no toji, s'not too much." you keened, tears still falling as the older man pushed himself all the way into you.

"still so tight babygirl, gripping me like a fuckin' virgin." toji groaned, head dropping to the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses along your neck contrasting the brutal pace he set as he began to thrust into you.

as toji had his way with your body, cock hitting all the right spots with that perfectly rough yet pleasurable pace, lips kissing along the column of your throat and hands leaving bruises across your waist and hips, the urge to touch him grew, and your hands started twitching above you, tears falling more rapidly from your eyes. 

"please, please toji-" you cried, breath hitching as the tip of toji's cock bumped your cervix, "please wan' touch you so bad, please." the sobs were wracking your body now, mixing with twitches from the stimulation toji was providing everywhere across your body, creating a sweet melody for the black haired man. 

"sorry baby, but i gotta stick by the punishment-" he groaned, hips beginning to stutter as he neared his high, "else you'd jus' go 'round breakin' all my rules." 

"no- no- toji, 'd be s'good, a good girl" your protests devolved quickly into incoherent babbling and pleasured noises, as one of toji's hands released from your waist and starting circling your overstimulated clit. 

"you gonna cum for daddy soon mamas?" toji questioned, smirking as your fucked out brain lost any ability to speak, instead whimpreing and moaning in response. "aww you too fucked out and dumb to give a proper response?" he asked, only getting another whimper in response.

"s'ok, s'good, we're gonna cum together and who knows maybe i'll actually fuck a baby into ya, make you a real ma."

the sentiment sent you over the edge and you smiled, drool pooling onto the couch cushion as the coil in your stomach finally snapped. white hot pleasure firing through your half limp body. toji pounded into you, fucking you through your high, but each thrust became sloppier and less rhythmic than the last, before his hips faltered and stopped, cock pumping you full as your cunt clenched hard around him, pussy subconsciously milking the man for every last drop of his seed. 

with an unceremonious sigh, toji pulled out of you, watching for a moment as the mixture of your releases dribbled out of your used hole, before grabbing a wet wipe from the coffee table, (that you kept there for this exact reason), and carefully wiping you down and then sitting back down on the couch beside you, dropping the wipe onto the table with the long forgotten beer. 

"mmm c'mere, lemme undo those hands of yours." toji said, pulling you back into his lap, carefully undoing the lace before pressing soft kisses to your slightly red and raw wrists. "i hope you know we're doing this again 'n i'll buy you as many of these pretty little hair ribbons as you can find."

"mmm sounds good 'ji, love you" you said, pressing sleepy little kisses to his throat, his lips and lastly the scar on his lips before passing out into a fucked out slumber on your boyfriends chest. 

[thelunarsystemwrites]

Why I recommend age regression as a way to cope.

If you're stressed the F out, feel like you missed out or lost your childhood, or have terrible coping mechanisms? Then this is the post for you. (Maybe.)

Also before we jump in—Just wanna say that I'm not a psychologist, I'm just sharing tips and advice from my own positive and negative experiences. And that age regression may not work for you after you've tried it, but I say give it a shot! Especially if your current ways of dealing with life aren't.... great.

With all that our of the way—Post beneath cut!

So here's some resources for a TLDR version! But I'll be explaining age-regression, it's benefits to me, and why I encourage others to try!

Remember it is ALWAYS sfw! (Which means agere isn't a kink, never has been and never will be!)

So age-regression, or it's shortened name Agere (Takes Age, and the Re from Regression and combines them!) Is a form of dissociation in which someone mentally reverts back to a younger age! This can be anywhere from a few years younger, such as a 17 year old regressing to a 15 year old. Or it can be many years younger—Example being a 17 year old regressing to a 4 year old!

During this state: they are mentally younger, either fully or partially depending on the person. And do think like said age. And often their behaviors correspond with their regressed age, assuming they aren't masking it!

Sometimes you are aware you're regressed, and other times you're not—Both are completely fine!

It's a wonderful way to relive your childhood in a safe environment, feel young and cared for again like a child, or express your inner child!

Okay, but why would I use that to cope?

Don't worry, I hear your questions!

The reason it's a good coping mechanism, for me atleast, is regressing allows you to process your emotions at your own pace. Though they might still be overwhelming, I find it much easier to let my big emotions calm down when I feel small, because it's like they slowly burn off rather than going boom!

If you're stressed a lot, it's a good way to temporarily remove yourself from your burdens! Like you don't have any worries other than 'should I use the pink or blue crayon?' Vibes! Pressure slowly bleeding off rather than having an outburst.

And, for fun! It can be fun to connect with your inner child, do the things you liked as a kid and reunited with that mindset! You don't need to have missed out on your childhood to regress, it can be completely for fun!

Now now, age regression isn't always all fun and games. Because you do think like whatever age you've regressed to, you might have temper tantrums or get cranky or confused if something triggers it.

That's okay.

Yeah, it can feel icky—But me personally, i much prefer these occasionally than letting my emotions boil over and having a breakdown when I'm not regressed!

I've lost and wasted a lot of my childhood. This is my way of healing and re-experiencing childhood joy. Please, don't ever forget that type of wonder, it's so magical and so nice and cozy.

It's a way to cope because it can be an outlet, a comfort, a way to regulate emotions, a way to escape, a way to just relax. And, while not everyone turns out liking it, that's okay! But it works for me, and so so many others. I've had atleast 6 or so friends start regressing and they're still doing it to this day!

And the best part is it's temporary, so if there's more mature things you enjoy? You don't have to give those up, okay? You can find time to regress and relax, and come back to your normal routine later!

It's benefits can be:

Destressing.

Processing lots of emotions at once.

Enjoyment.

Getting to do things you were denied as a child.

Able to let out emotions via tantrums or fits in a much less destructive headspace.

Reliving a simpler mindset.

Helping with sleeping. (I find it much easier to nap/go to bed if I'm regressed!)

Getting a fresh feeling after you're done regressing.

Stimulating if understimulated.

Can help if you're also overstimulated.

Healing inner child.

Coping with trauma/stress in a healthy way.

Help with doing chores. (It's way easier to make chores fun if you're regressed in my experience, but some hate doing chores while regressed and that's cool too!)

And it can be different for each person!

It is absolutely okay to have a different experience, struggle regressing at first or even always, or not do it often!

I recommend if you want to start regressing—Find something that makes your inner child happy, indulge in the best things you liked or would've liked as the age you wanna regress to, find ways to incorporate your current interests into it!

Also things that you like, or positive things can help too!

It's honestly my best coping mechanism, it isn't 'weird' or 'wrong' especially if it helps you. And I can guarantee it's far better than plenty of unhealthy coping mechanisms!

Sooo... yeah! If you want, I recommend looking more into it! There's a whole community for you here on Tumblr, and other sites!

And this post mainly only covers the positives, but it's what I wanted to focus on!

Byee!! (Pssstt BTW agere doesn't have to be all pastels and cute and stuff!! Do what makes you happy! Use whatever colours and vibes you want!)

[the-riddlers-glasses]

big boob reader and eddie? like maybe they’re dating but eddie hasn’t seen reader topless yet and reader thinks eddie isn’t into boobs at all and feels kinda self-conscious about it. then she finally asks about it and turns out eddie loves boobs (maybe bc obv mommy issues) and smut ensues? would love if reader had their nips pierced but that’s very niche so i get it if that’s not something you would write. and i love your work and this is my first ever request so sorry if it’s not right :/

I Think You’ll Like This - The Riddler/Edward Nashton x Busty F!Reader

Word Count: 1007

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MNDI (mommy kink, slight dom!reader, breast fondling, nipple sucking, nipple piercings, boob obsession, handjob, titf*cking, climax denial, masturbation, praise, ejaculation on breasts, semen ingestion, oral, slight throatf*ck, swallowing)

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉‧₊˚. ⋆｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉‧₊˚. ⋆｡‧

Eddie is an amazing partner, so supportive and caring. He always makes you feel beautiful, but there was one insecurity you weren’t ready to share with him - your large chest. You got nipple piercings in an attempt to gain more confidence in your boobs, and you liked them, but you weren’t sure how he’d feel about your boobs, especially with nipple piercings. Would he be into it? Or would it make him feel differently about you?

Cuddling with him on the couch one day, you begin thinking about it and mustering up the courage to mention it while you lay in his arms.

“Hey Eddie…” you whisper shyly.

“What is it sweetheart” he says placing a kiss on your head.

You turn your body to face him, placing yourself in his lap. His glasses crooked on his face, he looks adorable. You take a deep breath in and begin to speak.

“How do you feel about boobs, especially… bigger ones?” You say nervously

His cheeks turn pink and he looks terribly flustered all of a sudden. Oh no, have I made him uncomfortable? you thought to yourself and he quietly laughed through his apparent embarrassment. He collects himself and looks you in the eye.

“I… I mean, I like boobs. I think they’re very… they’re very hot” he stumbles out, looking a mess.

You feel a slight twinge beneath your lap and your face lights up, he likes boobs. You smirk slightly and ask another question.

“How about nipple piercings?” You say with confidence, but also caution.

He gulps and looks away, his face turning a deeper shade of red now. Oh he likes it you think to yourself, while watching him squirm.

“Yes.. yes I like that” he whispers, looking down at your chest not so subtly. You can feel him beneath you, getting harder by the second.

“Well I think you’ll like this then” you say with a smirk, as you begin lifting your shirt up.

You remove your shirt and sit in front of him in your bra, your big boobs spilling out of the cups slightly. His eyes widen as he examines your beautiful tits. His cock is pulsating against your thighs as you sit in his lap, showing him your chest. Before he can say anything else, you begin unhooking your bra and suggestively removing it from your body.

“Y/N… oh my god” he breathes out as he takes in your beauty, leaning closer to them, licking his lips, “May I?”

You nod and he places one of your boobs in his mouth, flicking his tongue around the piercing bar and sucking on your nipple. His free hand was fondling your other breast, as you decide to reach down to his aching cock and rub him through his pants, making him moan with a mouthful of boob.

“Mhhhhm yes please, m-mommy” he groans against your tit.

You remove your hand from his length and stand up in front of him. He looks up at your topless busty figure with desperation. You get down on your knees in front of him and begin unzipping his pants. You pull his rock hard cock from his pants and began stroking it. He whimpers in pleasure, before you abruptly stopp.

“Don’t stop… baby” he breathes out, throwing his head back.

“Mommy’s got a better idea” you grab your tits and push them together “Fuck them” you whisper.

His eyes widen and he positions himself between your boobs in no time. He starts pushing himself between your juicy tits and groaning through the pleasure. His cock reaches your face, so you position your mouth to tease the tip when he thrusts in. His thrusts became harder and faster, but before he could reach climax you let your boobs go and his cock fell out of their grip. He winced at the loss of contact.

“Please let me cum on your tits” he begs, breathing heavily.

You look into his desperate eyes “stroke your cock and tell me how much you like them” you whisper seductively.

He did as asked, stroking himself at a steady pace. He stared at your boobs, biting his lip to hold back his moans. He told you how much he loved them.

“Mhhhm they’re so hot” he breathes out huskily.

“I could suck and fuck them all day” he moans

“Those piercings… look amazing… on you baby” he whispers through strokes.

You begin fondling your boobs in front of him, causing him to speed up and buck his hips into his hands. He was going crazy for you.

“I’m.. going to… cum” he cried in pleasure.

You position yourself in front of his cock, and he cums all over your tits. You feel the hot jizz all over your chest, and decide to lick it off for him.

He was still hard, despite cumming so hard all over you. You bend down and grab his cock, placing the tip in your mouth. You run your tongue around it, making him shiver.

“Look at my tits bouncing while I suck you off” you whisper against his length.

He squirms underneath you as you slide him through your mouth and down your throat, bobbing your head up and down while your tongue massages his cock. You grabbed his hand and places it on your boob. He squeezes and fondles it while you devoured him. He moans and groans as he grabs your tits, slightly bucking his hips into your mouth to get deeper.

His moans get louder, and you feel his cock pulsating in your mouth. You keep a steady pace allowing him to climax.

“Ohh Mhmmmm, feels… so… good” he gasps while pushing himself in and out your throat.

You remove him from you mouth, and open it to show him the warm jizz that filled up your throat, before swallowing it for him.

You sit up closer toward him, and he grabs your boobs, admiring them intensely. He put his face between them and holds you close.

“Thank you mommy” he whispers.

[whousestypewriters]

she's mine - j.o.t.h x e.f

pairing: jacks x evangeline fox

requested: yes / no

warnings: perverted behaviour like the dude is a creep

a/n: ahhhhhh jacks and evangeline are so cute i love them so much also its like 12am im tired and delusional so im sorry if the ending isn't very good

taglist: @lxvebelle, @moonlightt444, @nqds

evangeline and parties usually mix very well.

so when lala invited to her this particular one she jumped at the opportunity to dress up and socialise with everybody, being the social butterfly she is.

jacks on the other hand? had to actually be dragged out of the hollow and bribed with one on one time with evangeline. even now he's still grumbling as he makes his way through the room brushing off - sorry ignoring - anyone who tries to talk to him.

he's looking for one person in particular, a certain pink haired girl, and yet he can't seem to find her. "ahh jacks its so good to see yo-" the random lord - whoever it was, it doesn't matter - tries to talk to him, but jacks pushes him away before he can say anything else.

a small glimpse of a pink head caught his attention and the twenty minutes he's been at this party have been absolutely terrible, so he is determined to find evangeline and get the hell out of here.

people are nauseating.

he avoids a few more ladies and lords in ugly outfits and makes his way around the corner to where he thought he saw evangeline but is only greeted by a drunken stranger waving his glass around in the air talking to no one.

"well wasn't she a pretty little doll," he slurs. "that lala sure knows how to throw a party!" he spins around spilling some of his drink. "but motherrrrr, i don't want to go to school," he pronounces now facing a statue.

jacks rolls his eyes and is about to turn back when he hears evangeline's voice. "uh, okay, can you let me go?"

his senses are on high alert and he all but shoves the drunk man still leering at the statue into the wall, "oh dahlia you're such a good kisser!"

he rounds another corner and is met with a sight that causes rage to bubble so far under his skin its almost unnatural.

~~

evangeline has had fun this evening.

when she and jacks first arrived she (somehow) slipped out of his grasp and floated around gossiping with lala and talking brightly with everyone.

she had just quickly moved away to go to the bathroom when he cornered her. his hand instantly moving to her waist making her feel uncomfortable.

"um hello?" she asks her voice going up an octave in discomfort.

"hey there pretty girl," the creep breathes, the alcohol on his breath evident. "you and i would make a pretty good team."

"uh, okay, can you let me go?" she asks trying to squirm out of the creeps hold but he just tightens his grip on her and pulls her closer, inhaling.

"get your hands off her." the voice comes from a few feet away and is filled with so much anger evangeline can practically feel it radiating off him.

"who do you think you are?" the creep asks, wrapping an arm around eva either not noticing the way she tenses, or the way jacks' eyes darken or he just doesn't care. "this is my girlfriend!" he drunkenly announces, "so just leave us be."

"you have about five seconds to get your hands off of my girl or i'll remove them from your body."

the man lately registers the threat and loosens his hold allowing time for eva to slam her elbow into his gut and rip out of his hold, into jacks' arms.

she buries her head into his chest and relishes the warmth and immediate comfort jacks' arms bring. "jacks," she breathes.

"this is my girl and you better never show your face near her ever again or i will end you and your pathetic little life before its even started," jacks' crisp voice rips into the hallway.

"please who do you think you are? i'm a lord. what are you some random who managed to sneak into this party?" he steps forward threateningly.

"i am the person who's going to remove your head from your body if you come any closer, think wisely about your next choice lord."

the creep seemingly finally understanding his threats backs away hands raised in innocence. "okay man, i was just kidding but whatever."

he spins around and tries to leave but not before another drunk man stumbles past mumbling about some dahlia, and knocks him to the floor.

evangeline squeezes jacks tighter hugging him, revelling in his warmth and the arms wrapped possessively around her as he watches the creepy lord tumble to the ground.

"thank you jacks," she smiles.

"we're heading home, little fox," jacks' says - more like demands - wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "so no more of these uncultured idiots think that you're up for taking. when clearly you're not. because, little fox... you're mine."

[sunnyskiesscareme]

Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

Summary: Quinn makes it up to his girlfriend after a date gone wrong. Quinn Hughes x reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+, smut, mdni

Notes: This is my first time posting smut. Please be kind. Also, I hate proofreading so much

Y/n’s boots sloshed with rain as she stepped through the front door, frowning at the mat that did very little to stop the muck from getting on their clean floors. She took them off, cringing when she stepped on the wet ends of her jeans that were just too big for her. Anything for fashion.

She pulled her pants higher up her waist and tugged her wet socks off. Quinn kissed her forehead apologetically when she sat on the bench in their entrance way.

“I don’t wanna spend the rest of our date night cleaning the floors.” He whined, sitting down next to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, uncaring how her wet hair stuck to his neck.

“It’s not too bad,” she said. As long as their shoes stayed where they were at the door, the rest of the floors wouldn’t get as dirty. “Hasn’t been much of a date night anyway.”

Quinn frowned. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

He truly had nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t his fault that the date night had gone so terribly so fast. They’d both known about the little check-up doctors appointment he had booked for that afternoon, they just hadn’t known about the bad accident that had happened on the highway and the traffic it had caused- paired with Vancouvers usual crazy traffic.

They hadn’t known that you had to be less than 5 minutes late to keep your reservation at this fancy, stuck-up restaurant. Quinn didn’t take a liking to the man at the front, who looked at Y/n for a little too long in all the wrong places. They got kicked out quickly.

They didn’t know it was going to rain, not bothering to check the weather beforehand as they had assumed they would be under the roof of an expensive restaurant, instead of walking around the whole night.

Quinn knew how long his girlfriend had taken to get ready, getting dolled up and styling her hair in bouncy curls, only for them to go flat when they got wet. He panicked when he saw the dark mascara smudging her cheeks, and only slightly relaxed when she assured him it was just the rain.

They didn’t know they’d have to get home so early, so they had let one of Quinn’s teammates borrow his car for the night with the promise that he’d drive them home afterwards. That had all fallen out of place, and they made do with an Uber that took forever to find them.

She shook her head at him with a reassuring smile. “Not your fault. I’m just glad we had a night together at all. Busy times lately.”

Her drying hair had begun to frizz up, and Quinn tried to smooth it with his hand. He had no luck with that and tucked it behind her ear instead. “I know…” he muttered, giving her painted lips a quick kiss.

She stood to remove her jacket and Quinn followed to help her. He hung it up when it was off and pulled her close to him, his palm splayed on her lower back as she fiddled with the chain around his neck.

"You’re so pretty," he said, his index finger under her chin, tilting her head to look up at him. Three simple words, which she heard from him every day, and she still felt weak in her knees. She fell into him, burying her pink face into his white t-shirt. She put no effort into keeping herself upright- he was there to catch her if she fell, he was there to hold her.

"Don't hide, baby." His words were muffled against the top of her head, getting lost in her hair. He pressed a kiss there and sighed when the scent of her lavender shampoo hit his nose. "Look at me."

Y/n tilted her head, following his order, but her cheek stayed smushed against his chest, and Quinn gave her a smile. God, she loved that smile. She wished he showed it to the world a little more often. He brought one hand to her neck, petting the soft skin under her jaw, and his other palm splayed against her back under her shirt. She giggled when the thin fabric tickled her spine.

"Come sit with me," he said, already making his way to the couch. He kept her pressed against him as he walked, giving her no chance to decline- not that she'd ever want to. The walk was short, and though she couldn't see from where she pressed against his chest, she knew they had made it when she felt him move his hands to the back of her thighs, picking her up and falling backward onto the cushion. She straddled his thighs and lifted her head to press light kisses along his neck, starting at the collar of his shirt and ending just below his ear. Quinn leaned back with a shaky sigh, giving her hip a squeeze when she shifted on his lap.

She felt shuffling from underneath her, but only stopped nibbling his ear when she heard the tv turn on behind her. She pulled away from him and pushed his arm back down from where it hung beside her, turning the volume higher. "Am I boring you, or?" she asked with furrowed brows.

"No baby," he assured, his hand running up and down her waist. His lips quirked, "Just makin' sure the neighbors don't hear what I'm hoping you're planning on doin' with me here."

She snorted but didn't say anything back, squeezing both of his cheeks and pressing a smiley kiss to his puckered lips. His right hand traveled under her shirt again, and his fingers tickled her spine as he tried to unclasp her bra. She pulled away again when she felt his lips stop moving against hers. She giggled at the concentration laced in his features, his eyes still closed. "Need some help back there?"

"No," he declined quickly. "I've got it." He huffed when he pulled on the clasp for what he estimated was the 6th time, cursing when it, again, didnt give. Y/n wouldve felt bad at the defeated expression on his face before he moved to look at it behind her if she didnt find it so endearing. "The hell?"

Y/n laughed. "It's new."

Quinn let out a breath when he finally got it undone and Y/n laughed harder. "Just fuckin' kiss me." he huffed, leaning back again and pulling her in to crash his lips against hers. He slipped his fingers under the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, taking that goddamn bra with it and throwing it away as far as he could. Y/n gasped at the sound of a crash behind her, and whipped her head around to see an old vase shattered on the wood floors, her shirt and bra bundled on top. "The fuck is wrong with me?" he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration.

She chuckled and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. "Aw, sweetheart. I think it's cute how clumsy I make you." She pressed another kiss to his cheek when he threw his head back with an embarrassed whine. Then another. Then another. "We'll clean it later. We’re a bit preoccupied at the moment."

She kissed his lips this time, smiling when he regained enough confidence to bring his hand back up to smooth over her ribs, the tips of his thumbs brushing against her breasts. She whined when he swiped his tongue against her bottom lip, his strong hand gently cupping her breast. She felt a wave of adoration for the man, her heart swelling at how tender he always was with her. "I love you."

His other hand swiped some stray hair away from her eyes, breathing hot air onto her lips, "I love you so much baby,” he suddenly flipped her, so she was the one sitting on the soft cushion and knelt in front of her. “Lemme show you just how much.”

Both of his arms wrapped around her waist as he pulled her to the edge of the seat. He held her in a hug for a moment before pressing wet kisses to the insides of her breasts. She ran her fingers through his hair and he looked up at her through his long lashes, and she swore she had never seen a more beautiful thing.

A thumb brushed against her nipple and she breathed when it peaked. He trailed more kisses down her middle in a straight line and hooked his fingers into the waistband of her jeans. She lifted her hips for him to pull them off and squeezed her thighs when she was fully bare. He grabbed one of her knees in each hand and stroked the tops with his thumbs, urging them open.

“Quinny-” she cut herself off with a gasp when he nipped the inside of her thigh. He soothed the skin with his tongue. “Quinny, this isn’t fair.”

He looked up at her with raised brows. “What’s not fair?”

“This.” She said, and suddenly she was fisting the fabric of his t-shirt right at his collar, and he grinned. “This needs to go.”

“Anything you want, baby.” He stayed knelt in between her legs on the ground in front of her as he tugged his shirt above his head. His grin grew wider when he felt her lean forward and urge the fabric off faster. Y/n rolled her eyes fondly when he placed the shirt neatly on the coffee table behind him, making sure no more vases were harmed.

She flattened her palms on his toned chest and strong shoulders for a brief moment before he dove back into her thighs, and despite wanted to pet and stroke him a little longer, she didn’t put up much of a fight. Not that she could when his kisses were growing more heated and trailing closer and closer to her core. She squeezed his head with her thighs when he poked at her clit with his tongue, but he made no move to stop her.

Her ankles crossed behind his head, and he stroked her pussy with his index underneath her. He groaned at the slick. He brought his other hand up to grope at her breasts. “You enjoying yourself?”

“Does it feel like it?” She managed to breath out, only failing at keeping her voice steady.

“Yes.”

“That’s ‘cause I am.” She moaned, tugging harshly on his hair, then smoothing it out because she thought she might have pulled too hard. That didn’t seem to be the case, however, when he sucked on her clit and slipped a finger inside her with a groan, the sound sending shivers through her entire body.

She pushed her hips further into his face, surprising herself with how that was even possible, and moaned again when he flexed his knuckle inside her.

His knees started to ache, ground hard against the wooden floor, fingers deep in her cunt for what he was sure were the most enjoyable few minutes of his life. It took everything in him to stop just before she came, wanting to see her come undone on his fingers, but wanting to see her come undone on his cock even more. He cooed at her when she whined, picking himself up to press a loving, wet kiss on her temple. He held her hands for a moment before bringing them to his waistband, knowing that giving her the honours of undressing him would cheer her up.

It did, and she pulled his pants down eagerly. She subconsciously bit her bottom lip when she saw his shaft stand proud against his pelvis, and Quinn grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him. “Do I tell you enough how fucking sexy you are? ‘Cause I’ll happily do it more.”

His fingers slid across her jaw as she replied with a cheeky grin, “You say it plenty, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear even more.”

He kissed her, hard. She moaned when his tongue flicked against her own- her lips were sure to still be swollen from this kiss tomorrow morning. He shuddered when she gripped him, rubbing the slick from his tip all over with her thumb. He cursed and grabbed the underside of her knee, throwing it up so her ankle rested on his shoulder. He put his hand on her own and helped her guide his cock into her, slowly and gently pushing further as she adjusted.

“Shit, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.” She admitted when he finally bottomed out.

He leaned close to her, their foreheads almost touching when he softly caressed her cheek with his thumb. “You okay, baby?”

“Perfectly!” She nodded quickly. “You’re just so big.”

“Fuck, honey,” he breathed, letting his head fall into the crook of her neck. “You can’t say shit like that. Gonna make me cum already.”

She giggled. “Sorry.”

He pressed kisses to her shoulder, his thrusts slow and purposeful. She stroked the hair at the nape of his neck, pretty moans leaving her lips. She let her other hand wander over his strong shoulders, and she giggled when he nuzzled into her neck in response, the hair of his beard tickling her skin.

“God, Quinn, don’t you ever shave again.” She said, somewhere in between pleading and demanding.

“What? You into mountain men?” He teased, and a sudden dark red flushed her cheeks knowing he could be so deep inside her and still make her laugh.

“That’s what trims are for.”

He lifted his head up to kiss her, straightening his spine and moving faster. Small whimpers turned to loud, guttural moans when she reached down to toy with her own clit for a moment.

He brought her right leg up to mirror her left on his shoulder, gripping her thighs as he pounded her. His eyes roamed her body underneath him and had to close his eyes for a moment to stop from cumming at the sight of her breasts bouncing in time with his thrusts. It did little to help him, the scene replaying in his mind over and over again, and he became sloppy with his movements. Desperate not to finish before her and ruin their not-so-perfect night for good, he replaced her fingers with his own, rubbing harsh shapes on her clit again. His head dipped as far as it could without completely folding her in half to suck bruises into her collarbone.

She threw her head back with a cry, and warned him of what was to come.

“Let go baby, c’mon, cum all over my cock,” he urged, and groaned when he felt her tight squeeze. “Shit,” he stuttered out. It only took a few more thrusts after her to finish, and he stayed slumped on top of her even when he finally stilled.

She brought her shaky legs down from his shoulders and wrapped them around his waist, letting him fall into her further. She twirled her fingers through his dark hair, lightly scratching his scalp as their breathing returned to normal. She sighed, “Date night worked out after all.”

[hellsburners]

thin walls

summary: this new york city apartment has terrible walls! pairing: matt murdock x gender neutral!reader word count: 934 warnings: 18+ warning, masturbation, perv!matt, eavesdropping, mutual masturbation kinda?, sex toy use, neighbor!matt a/n: was writing for a request but this prompt came to mind lol.

masterlist | more matt murdock

Matt Murdock let out a yawn listening to his screen reader, neck aching, lids half-hooded at this point. It was well beyond the night for this lawyer of Hell’s Kitchen. It was definitely nothing new, taking hours doing research for a case. The week has been busy for him, balancing pro-bono cases and bigger cases to pay for the bills, this didn’t even include his nightly duties to the Kitchen. 

Matt was in his dining area with his laptop and tons of paperwork, one earbud on as the robotic voice of the reader blurred in his tired brain. He pauses the audio and rests his face on his hands. The sounds of his neighborhood started to flood his senses, the dogs barking, the couples fighting, the crying babies, it was all making his head hurt. He tries to breathe his way into silencing the noises, purely focusing on blocking them all out when he hears a moan and buzzing sound from the unit next door. He knew who you were, you’ve exchanged greetings before, you even gave him packed food on Christmas day. It was a warm gesture, something that rarely happens in this neighborhood he loves to protect. 

With Matt tuning his senses to the sounds coming from your room he hears what you’re doing clearly. You were on your bed, he heard the way the bed creaks and the way the cotton sheets brush on your shirt, you were completely naked waist down, the vibrating toy in between your legs teases you sex. It was a gift from your friend, you told them it was embarrassing and that you would never use it anyway, but here you were holding the six-inch pink vibrator in your hands. 

On the other side of the wall Matt could hear you spread lube on the vibrating device. He furrowed his brows and removed the earbud to fully listen to what’s happening. Matt knew it was wrong, he purposely intended to only use his hightented abilities for good, not for eavesdropping on your neighbor masturbating. He loosens his tie from the heat starting to burn inside him, unbuttoning the first two buttons from his shirt. He hears your soft moans from you teasing your sex with the vibrator, you try to increase the intensity and you suddenly shudder from the shock of pleasure. At the same time, Matt could feel his own erection form. 

Your mind wandered to the hot neighbor you had, with his red glasses, unkempt stubble, and his soft lips. You wondered what it would feel to have those lips on your skin, the softness of his kisses with the roughness of his facial hair trailing down your body to your center. Your eyes closed as you dive deeper into your fantasy, moaning while your thighs move closer. You were reminded of that time you saw him take a package left on his doorstep with the name “Foggy” written on it. He was only clothed from the waist down with worn out sweatpants with the hems tucked into old cotton socks. You marveled at his toned body, his big arms, his broad chest and his abs. You couldn’t help but stare as he bent down and his muscles contracted into deeper lines making them more defined. 

“Fuck,” you said as you started to put the vibrator in your sex, feeling your muscles tense and give into the sensations. The lube added more ease to the thrusts you were doing to your center. You gripped the sheets as you moaned. In your head the pleasure wasn’t from a toy but from the man in the unit next door. 

Behind the thin wall Matt Murdock was also in the middle of pleasure. He had opened his trousers and was pumping his dick to the sounds from the other room. Your voice starts to pitch higher from the immense pleasure. You muffle your moans with your other hand as you continue to fuck yourself. In a twisted use of his abilities, Matt could single out the  moments the vibrator would go in and out of you. He used that chance to pump his dick in the same rhythm to yours. 

Come on, sweetheart, let me hear your moans, he whispers under his breath, his chest rising and falling. He spits into his cock to give him some lubrication so his thrusts could be faster. You were a whimpering mess, your hand leaves your mouth to play with your nipples. You wanted to call for his name. The name of the man next door. Matt was it? Your orgasm was close. Your body slightly convulsing, tears pooling in your eyes. You wanted him so badly, want to feel his cock as it thrusts inside you. You want to feel him lose himself in your arms. A carnal desire looms over the both of you.

“I want you so bad, Matt,” you moaned. Matt was shocked to hear you moan his name, and how you wanted him. Wanton lust pulses through Matt’s body as he cums. His senses focusing on your beautiful noises, his cum pools on his abdomen as he climaxes.

The tension inside you loosens as you give out your release. You give out one last moan before you fall back to the mattress. You turn off the device and take it out of you. You lay there in your bed, ashamed of what you’ve done. The same way Matt feels. Sin won tonight in Hell’s Kitchen, wherein you and the devil lost yourselves to lust. Matt wondered if it would happen again tomorrow night. 

He grins.

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

[adobe-outdesign]

Thoughts on the Aisha? It’s been my favorite neopet ever since I got a mcdonalds plushie of it when I was like 8 before I even knew what neopets was

Aisha are great because they're almost somewhat normal cat-like creatures—except they have two pairs of ears, one normal set and one set sticking up like antennae. These ears are the most important part of their design, as they're both visually distinct and very memorable.

Aishas also vaguely implied to have some degree of extra-terrestrial origins due to the existence of alien Aishas, which is a nice bit of worldbuilding and helps explain the weird ears even more (not that they're that unusual by Neopet standards, but still, it's neat).

In addition to the four ears, the other main notable thing about Aishas is their near-constant closed eyes (though some Aisha characters do have theirs open), which are punctuated by a ring around the outside. The ring is nice, as it helps break up their otherwise solid body colors a bit.

I'd also argue that Aishas benefited greatly from customization. First, their old artwork was getting very dated and needed a refresh anyways, and secondly, the only real change is that they're standing now, which doesn't really affect anything.

But the other big benefit the Aisha received is that their collars became a wearable item that can now be removed. I'm not going to lie, I never liked the collars. First, they're weird because in-universe, Neopets are anthropomorphic, and indeed, no Aisha characters sport the collars. Secondly, as a species, where do those collars come from, and why do Aishas wear them? And thirdly, they tend to add unnecessary color to their designs (like how the blue and green Aishas shown above sport red and yellow collars—though this varies depending on paint job). The "A" tag also feels clunky. They're not the worst, but having the choice to remove the collars or keep them is the best of both worlds.

The only big benefit to the collars is that they do sometimes do some really fun things with them depending on the color, as I've spotlighted below.

Favorite colours:

Alien: No Aisha review would be complete with talking about alien Aishas, which are absolutely iconic in their own right. Species-specific colors are always enjoyable, and the fact that the alien Aishas have SIX ears is fantastic. I also like the spacesuit/helmet combo, and the red triangle at least accents the red color a bit if you choose to keep it on. I just wish they had done something fun and futuristic with the collar, instead of sticking to the standard version.

Darigan: The converted version of this pet isn't terrible, but the unconverted version is fantastic. The thin body looks great, almost snake-like, and the pointed tail matches the tall ears, which are given a delightful devil-horn look. The spots help break up the body a bit, as does the addition of an underbelly, and the collar changes shape to a D for darigan, which is fun.

Mutant: Mutant Aishas, my beloved! What a great design. Replacing the second pair of ears with mouths and then accenting the pink lips with floppy, tongue-like spikes on the back is just great, with the pink working great against the blue. Bonus shoutout for the singular eye and the mutated "A" on the collar. My only nitpick is that the collar tag should've been the lighter teal of the stripes on the ears, and the band should've been pink.

BONUS: I'm cheating by including this, but I have to give a shout-out to the baby Aisha for being downright adorable with its little binky collar and soft blue color. I'm not usually big on baby pets, but this one's actually pretty great.

[calamarikitty]

Hazbin Hotel Redesigns - Part Two!

the hotel staff are done and ready to give you mediocre room-service and amenities! individual pngs and design notes under cut!

Niffty - She/her, cis woman, straight

wanted to make her significantly more buggy! she's not really based on any bug in particular but i did kind of opt for some ladybug theming!

with her more buggy aspects comes extra legs and arms. she skitters around the floor like a little cockroach with her teeny broom!

i honestly think niffty's original design is very cute, so i didn't change too much. her color palette is the only thing i really had qualms with, so i made her more of an orangey pink since i think it fit her better. also, bug features on her are just really cute and were totally a missed opportunity in her og design. she looks so cute!

she's scarily perceptive and has great hearing

Husk - He/him, cis man, idk but bro isn't straight

i removed his bird features and made him just a cat. sorry to everyone that liked his wings and tail but i just don't really get his bird theming???

he has so much and so little going on at the same time so i simplified him a lot while still adding that grumpy cat bartender charm.

he's short and stout, only a couple feet taller than niffty!

he has all of the suits in his design, because i think it's really fun! wanted to make him look like some kind of retired magician

he couldn't be bothered to wear his suit jacket or tie his tie, it's a miracle they got him to wear his nametag

i overall just wanted him to look a lot older and more grizzled. husk's og design is really busy but in my opinion tells us nothing about his character. i hope this communicates more about him

Alastor - He/him, agender, aroace, gay

monochrome with pops of gold and red! he's a classy guy.

doesn't talk through his mouth, and can only speak through his microphone. he has it on him at all times, and this makes adam breaking his microphone a lot more consequential. he's constantly 'on air'

more obvious deer features! he has a tail and hooves because it's fun, sue me

i also gave him much larger antlers because his antlers are barely noticeable when he's not in his full demon form in his og design, and it doesn't make any sense to me why they're not. surprisingly, his antlers do get much larger when he's in his full demon form, even though they're already very impressive

he has two eyes i just left one out for stylistic reasons

the x on his forehead is always there, not just in his full demon form. however, it does glow when he transforms, and his other stitches become much more noticable.

he cannot stop smiling, and also cannot open his mouth. a terrible punishment for a gluttonous cannibal

he's extremely polite (he never, ever curses) and a neat freak despite his murderous tendencies. he's very touch-averse but has no issue getting in everyone else's space. he's still a manipulative asshole, but is extremely good at hiding his emotions

he's definitely one of the more interesting characters to me and i feel like has a lot of potential, which is why i thought so much abt his design haha

[a-little-revolution]

hey elliot! this is a surgery question, so please take all the time you need to reply. you've mentioned you had top surgery before, and i was wondering what it was like accessing that kind of care as a little person? was it challenging finding a surgeon willing to work with you? what sort of considerations were needed for your surgery and recovery, if any? i was also curious if you had used a binder before surgery, and how you found it? i have a hard enough time donning and doffing mine with long arms, so i'd imagine it could be quite challenging for you, but maybe you found ways around it! thank you for all your hard work and patience in educating folks. wishing you bountiful spoons and lots of restful, easy days 💚

Hello! Thank you so much for your patience, I did indeed take some time to process this - I'm more than happy to answer questions related to surgery on here, as it's such a large part of my experience as a little person, but I may indeed take some time to respond as I have medical CPTSD.

Anyhoo lol Yes! I have had top surgery, and my dwarfism did effect how I accessed that care:

Because I'm at risk for spinal injury, my surgery was done at a hospital rather than an outpatient centre where most top surgery is conducted (I needed to be kept overnight for monitoring while most top surgery patients leave day-of)

Like for all my surgeries, my sleep apnea and oxygen levels needed to be monitored

But unlike my many other surgeries, this particular hospital (which will remain nameless for my own security) was incredibly inaccessible despite it being obviously well funded. No stools to be found, the wheelchairs were so high and designed with an almost bike-like frame that I needed to be liften in and out of them, and the staff was unfriendly and ableist.

My surgeon was picked for her experience with little people rather than her experience with top surgery. (I ended up unhappy with my results because my surgeon was more familiar with breast reductions and didn't follow through with my wishes. My top surgery was actually the worst surgery experience I've had - I was repeatedly dead-named by members of the hospital, overdosed on anaesthesia, and my surgeon had a terrible bedside manner)

But my touch up surgeon was my first choice! Dr. Armstrong at McLean Clinic did a fantastic job straightening my scars and removing my nipples (which I had hesitated on for the first surgery but firmed up for the second. I love having no nipples!)

Image description: a photo of my torso and lower face, displaying my healed top surgery results. Two wavy pink scars line the bottom of my pecks, and I have no nipples. With one hand on my hip and the other on my upper chest, you can see my tarot "the fool" tattoo, my kissing crows, and my sailor mercury star. On my right hand I wear a red glass ring to honor my deity Hestia. I have pail skin, a short brown beard, green curly hair and a gold vertical medusa piercing.

Post-op care was understandably different for me. Since my arms are already short and locked, the limit to my range of arm motion affected me even more. I needed even more help with care tasks than that of an average height/able bodied patient. I was lucky to several loved ones around to help :) Though compared to other surgeries, I was happy that I was able to walk and be more independent for the most part.

I also just want to add: something I see a lot on social media is trans and nonbinary folks seemingly bouncing back from surgery effortlessly. We see them at the beach, posting photos, and it gives the illusion that top/gender affirming surgery isn't the painful, emotional, difficult thing that it is. IT'S OKAY IF YOU DON'T FEEL QUEER JOY IMMEDIATELY AFTER SURGERY!! It takes a while to heal and bounce back because it is a lot on your body! Take your time, and give your body the love and care it needs!

Anyway I hope this all was helpful/educational - and I wish all my queer, trans, and otherwise gender diverse followers a lovely day!!

[angeldeas]

yandere Calcharo. Wuthering Waves

Warning: yandere, captivity, touching without consent, illness. (I'm writing on behalf of the original character because I'm uncomfortable writing y/n.)

Tiara was lying on the bed, blinking rapidly from unshed tears. How long had she been in this terrible place? How long will you have to live like a bird in a cage? When will she finally be able to escape?

The girl closed her eyes and covered her head with a warm blanket, burying her face in the pillow. The delicious smell of the Iris flower from freshly laundered linen filled the nose at the same time soothing and exciting the head, reminding of it.

The girl coughed weakly, trying to make as few sounds as possible. She didn't want him to know about her condition. Tiara did not want that man to believe even more strongly in his perverted beliefs that she should be protected from the outside world and kept away from many people, because they can also harm. Only a certain circle of people could interact with the Tiara. Basically, they tried not to communicate with her or answered as monosyllabically as possible. A feeling of depression weighed heavily on the girl's heart.

The man sighed and looked towards the bed, where the girl was lying hidden under the blanket.

"You're here..." A calm male voice filled the space. Calcaro went further into the room, stopping by the bed, he lightly touched a strand of long hair of a girl peeking out from under the blanket. The glossy curls were soft and flowed in thin strands of cobwebs as he passed them between his fingers. His heart was pounding at a furious gallop. With all care, so as not to frighten, the man removed the blanket from Tiara's head.

Oh, how beautiful she was... Sweet pink lips... Soft skin that could bruise at the slightest brute force, and bright, lively eyes that were looking right at him now. The girl was pale and tired, her reddened eyes showed that she had been crying recently... Calcaro wanted to touch her face, but stopped halfway with his hand hovering in the air. There was something wrong with his behavior and appearance.

- Are you sick? - Calcaro furrowed his brows when Tiara didn't answer and hurriedly looked away, she was clearly nervous, fiddling with the sleeve of her pajamas. The man sighed heavily when he saw Tiara's attempt to hide her cough. His hand pressed firmly but gently against the girl's forehead to compare the temperature with his own. - You have a fever.

Tiara was silent, her lips trembling as if she wanted to say something. She remembered getting caught in the rain while trying to escape yesterday and getting soaked to the skin before Calcaro grabbed her in the woods and didn't take her to his house.

- Yesterday you wanted to leave and that's what it led to. You should have realized a long time ago that you belong here. There is no place for someone like you in that hard world. - Calcaro spoke in a calm voice, stroking Tiara's head with his big hand. She frowned and narrowed her eyes in displeasure. The man did not react to such rejection of his attempt to care. It doesn't matter, as long as she's here and safe. There are no TD's and bandits in this house, there are no people here who can take advantage of this beautiful girl's naivety. This little world was created especially for her, where her wings would never get hurt, and existence was peaceful and comfortable. Calcaro decided that such a life was much better for her than a suspended existence with freedom in a boundless world.

The man took his hand off Tiara's head and went to get medicines. The girl coughed weakly and sniffed. She didn't have the strength to get out of bed to stretch her cramped muscles. Boredom and the desire to get out ate up a tired mind.

She would probably be lying at home right now. Mom and friends would visit her to help with something or just to check on her. And after her recovery, Tiara would do get-togethers with her friends somewhere in the city.

The treacherous tears began to flow from his eyes again. She's all alone now... And only this man, like a shadow, circles around her without taking her out of sight. This creature hiding under the guise of a human all the time claims that the outside world is dangerous and is not going to let her out of the space created personally for Tiara.

Calcaro came back into the room. He picked up the thermometer, his face serious and focused. His heart ached because of Tiara's painful condition.

- Honey, I need to take your temperature. - Saying these words, Calcaro hoped that she would not overreact when he touched her body.

- I'll do it myself. - The girl said heavily and stretched out her hand to take the thermometer. Calcaro didn't argue and silently gave it to her. Tiara turned away and took her temperature. The thermometer display showed the number 38.9. Tiara took a deep breath, she was scared by such a figure. She didn't want to show the thermometer, wanting to forget about the illness and for him to leave her alone. But Calcaro did not provide such an opportunity.

The man put his hand on the girl's shoulder, and the other gently pulled the thermometer out of the patient's hand. Calcaro saw the numbers and let go of the girl's shoulder with a stony face. "Too fragile and delicate."

Taking the pills and filling a glass with water, Calcaro presented them to Tiara. The girl looked at him warily, but drank the medicine. Calcaro nodded curtly and pulled the blanket over Tiara better before leaving.

The girl saw how the door of her room was left half open. The man could be heard doing something in the kitchen, and then went into the bathroom. Tiara gradually began to feel better, but after the temperature dropped, the skin felt a slight fake pain with every change in body position. The girl lay with her eyes closed, wanting to reduce her feelings. She was almost on the verge of sleep and wakefulness when she felt someone's hand on her cheek, her eyes sleepily opened immediately discerning an alarming figure.

-Don't touch me so suddenly. - Tiara began to move away from Calcaro, as he did not let her do it. His arms appeared around the struggling Tiara, which let out a thin, frightened squeak.

- Don't resist, it's for your own good. - Calcaro took the blanket off Tiara and scooped her up like a bride in his arms. Her kicking body immediately grabbed the man's neck with her hands, fearing a possible fall.

- Where are you taking me? - Tiara's hoarse voice was frightened.

- To the bathroom. - He answered laconically.

- Wait, I can do it myself, no need.

- You're sick, you didn't even get out of bed today, so please accept my care. - Calcaro sat the girl down on a chair. Tiara felt dizzy from such a sudden change and her body went limp, leaning sideways. The man helped her to sit upright. - Don't worry, I'll undress you so you can wash comfortably.

-No! I can do it myself. - Tiara was breathing heavily due to the rolling fatigue and soreness. Shame and embarrassment rose in her heart and salty tears flowed down her cheeks.

- Hush, hush... - Calcaro stroked the girl's head, supporting her by the hand.

Speaking soothing words, the man took off his nightgown from Tiara and soaked a towel over her hand. The warm water had a soothing effect on the skin. A slight sigh of relief came out of the Tiara. His actions were careful and quick. Tiara felt relaxed when it was over. She was quickly dressed in fresh pajamas and gently lifted from her chair. The girl no longer resisted, feeling physically and emotionally weak. Soon, Tiara felt the softness of the bed and the warmth of the blanket.

- Go to sleep. - Calcaro left the Tiara lying comfortably on the bed.

The girl did not close her eyes and listened to every rustle. She heard the sound of running water. Soon, Tiara fell asleep.

Calcaro breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Tiara sleeping peacefully. The man ran a trembling hand over her cheekbones, not wanting to wake her up, but in a desperate desire to touch her. The exquisite beauty of the Tiara in his eyes was a blessing. She was finally beside him, sleeping peacefully, not a frightened, screaming bird. How he loved to see her calm and peaceful. He hoped that Tiara would get used to and get used to the cage created personally for her. She looked like a porcelain doll that you want to hug and love.

Calcaro carefully lay down on the bed next to Tiara and climbed under the covers and hugged her fragile body. He was afraid that she could disappear at any moment. His beloved, who did not understand the danger of the world around her. She was soft and warm, giving a calmness that was lacking in Calcaro's life.

Tiara woke up feeling hot because of the man hugging her. She squirmed, trying to somehow free herself from his hands, but he squeezed them like a vice.

- Let go... I'm uncomfortable... - Tiara began to squirm, coughing a little, disturbing her throat. - Go away.

Calcaro loosened his grip, but did not leave, wanting to stay with Tiara all night.

- I'm watching you and your condition. I don't want to leave you alone during such a difficult period.

Tiara sighed, realizing that he could not be persuaded and continued to sleep to gain strength.

[slaymitchabernathy]

What Was I Made For?

| this story was inspired by the song ‘What Was I Made For?’ |

| a companion to ‘Pretty’ |

The roundness of her stretched-out stomach brings a mix of emotions to Soarynn’s throat.

She cried when she noticed it. Her period was late. Not that she was used to getting her period altogether, only for a few months. Ever since Coriolanus made her get the implant in her arm removed. He insisted on it, insisted on finishing inside of her and knowing that it could lead to a child of his growing inside of her.

Sometimes she loves it. Loves her child. How could a mother not love her child? She hasn’t even met him yet and she already loves him so dearly.

But on the other hand, she’s deeply terrified. The birth itself scares her the most. She doesn’t have a mother anymore because of her own birth and while she doesn’t think it would affect Coriolanus the way it affected her father, she knows it would be a significant loss nonetheless.

She also worries for her child. Her unborn son. Coriolanus had been elated when they found out that they were having a boy. An heir. A son. Another thing to dangle over her head. She worries about how their son will be treated, that he’ll grow up under the same type of roof that Coriolanus did, and that their child will be a horrible, terrible person who takes advantage of people and their kindness.

Coriolanus knows all about that.

People thought she had been crying tears of joy at their wedding, thought that she was overcome with emotion and she was. Just not in a good way. Watching him slip that ring onto her finger was like watching him slip a noose around her neck.

Soarynn was trapped.

No getting out. Ever.

Being married to Coriolanus was the end of so many things for her. She belonged to him now, mind, body, and soul. He dictated what she wore, what she said, what she ate, and where she went.

Soarynn often looked through old photo albums of her when she was a little girl. Sure she had been a bit awkward but she was happy.

Her fingers trace the pages of one of the albums as she sits in their library, reminiscing on the good times she had before Coriolanus. Most photos just consist of her. No friends or family. But she was okay with that.

She’s sitting in his favorite chair. The chair he sat in while he watched her fall apart over her books burning up in the fireplace. It still leaves a sour taste in her mouth whenever she’s reminded of it. Not that Coriolanus reminds her. He simply moved past it and expected her to do the same.

Soarynn smiles at a photo of her in the backyard of her old townhouse. She has ribbons in her hair and she’s wearing a pink dress with the biggest smile on her face.

“When did it end?” She whispers to herself as she turns to the next page, “All the enjoyment?”

Coriolanus doesn’t like to linger in the past, not when he’s got such a bright future ahead of him. And she really can’t blame him for that. For his ambition. Soarynn has lots of things to blame him for so she put aside his massive ego.

He’s at work right now. Once it hits six o’clock he’ll leave work and be home by six-thirty. Soarynn will serve him dinner and they’ll sit at their dining room table and discuss their days. Coriolanus will tell her about work and Soarynn will tell him about all the places she went to today.

At the beginning of their marriage, Soarynn did her best to ignore going to public events without Coriolanus. Despite how horrible he was, he was a source of stability in hectic scenes such as Capitol parties and social gatherings. Soarynn was more than happy to stay glued to his side as long as she didn’t have to talk to anyone.

But once they got married a certain precedent was set upon her and she was left to go to many of these things alone. Soarynn loved to be alone but going to an art gallery alone was a different thing entirely. Many other high society women would approach her and to their credit, they tried to make small talk. But Soarynn would freeze like a mouse in a trap. Make up some lies and leave early.

She got away with it for a good two months until Coriolanus found it and confronted her about it. “No wife of mine is ever going to be seen leaving an event early ever again. Do you understand me Soarynn?” He’d snarled, grabbing her throat and nearly slamming her into the nearest wall. Soarynn had been terrified of her husband, a man who could now inflict as much pain as he wanted onto her because they both knew she was trapped.

Soarynn had nodded and then she cried. Coriolanus comforted her in that sick twisted way he always did, the same way he did when he took her virginity or burned her books. He had whispered all sorts of deceptive words in her ear after fucking her senseless and then witnessing another breakdown over her books.

Soarynn’s books had been her one escape and he took that from her.

“I know, I know darling,” he had whispered, rubbing his hand up and down her back all whilst still inside of her, “it hurt me more than it hurt you, I need you to understand how hard that was for me Soarynn.”

Soarynn had tuned him out for the most part. She did that a lot lately, just nodding her head and putting on that pretty smile he loved so much. It was much easier when she didn’t argue back, didn’t put up a fuss over something he deemed “so insignificant.”

The grandfather clock in the hallway struck five, pulling Soarynn from her reminiscent thoughts and she slowly shut the album. “We should get ready for dinner,” she says softly, resting her hands on her rather large bump. She’s tried every trick in the book to ensure that their son arrives happy and healthy and that includes talking to him as if he can hear or understand her.

Sometimes it feels like he’s the only one she can talk to, can trust. Coriolanus has turned everyone against her it seems in one way or another.

His mother had told Soarynn all about her pregnancy and how boys were much more difficult to carry than girls in her opinion. She had also been elated to find out that Soarynn was pregnant, that she would soon be gifted a grandchild. Crassus Snow didn’t seem to share the same sentiment, he was pleased but that was about it.

Soarynn slowly pushes herself up from her husband’s chair and rests her hand on the top of it as she steadies herself. Being pregnant was absolutely exhausting. And she had gotten to the stage where she could no longer see or reach her toes.

Coriolanus of course, loved this. Loved how helpless she was now that she was pregnant. He loved bathing her, dressing her, slipping on her shoes. And because he was oh-so selfless he even took it upon himself to ensure that she was properly groomed in all places. It was horrible.

Soarynn sucks in a deep breath as a pain shot throughout her ribs. She rubs her stomach, in hopes of alleviating the pain but it persists. Soarynn nervously eyes the telephone that sits on the fireplace’s mantel. She could call Coriolanus at work, but he’d be furious. She’d only done it once to inquire about an event they would be attending later that night and he berated her over the phone and in person once he got home.

“Do not ever call me at work Soarynn. I don’t give a fuck if the penthouse is on fire. There are lots of people you can call before calling me,” he’d said so sternly, grabbing her jaw and forcing her to look him in the eye. She never called again.

But the pain was getting worse and didn’t this constitute an emergency? Soarynn let out a pained moan as she began to feel light-headed. She stumbles towards the fireplace, nearly falling to the floor but she manages to catch the edge of the mantel. “Oh, fuck,” she whispers, resting her head on the mantle's edge, “oh goodness.”

Perhaps she should just go to bed early. Coriolanus will call the doctor who will come tomorrow and most likely prescribe her some vitamins or supplements. Soarynn has taken a plethora of pills throughout this pregnancy, all given to her by the doctor to ensure it goes as smoothly as possible.

That might be her favorite thing about being pregnant. The fact that Coriolanus can’t make her take those awful pills that leave her limp like a ragdoll. He tried to make her take one on the night of their wedding but eventually gave up once he saw how upset it made Soarynn.

The wedding itself had been awful enough so to see her newly wedded husband pull out those pills sent her over the edge. Soarynn had experienced what Coriolanus called a “panic attack” where she cried so hard that she couldn’t breathe and then she threw up.

What a wonderful night to remember.

Soarynn lets out another hiss of pain and nearly falls to the floor as her vision turns spotty. If Coriolanus wasn’t so against hiring maids or a cook then Soarynn would have called out to someone for help. But she’s all alone in this place. Besides Petunia who’s fast asleep in their bedroom.

He likes that she's all alone with nothing to do but wait for him to come home.

Something is wrong, something is very wrong but Soarynn's never done this, been through this. Did her own mother ever deal with this? Is this something that happens during pregnancy?

Soarynn feels something trickling down her leg and for a moment she wonders if she's lost all control of her bladder. She heard that can happen when you're pregnant due to the pressure of the baby. She looks down at the floor and nearly throws up when she sees blood running down her leg.

Not an accident, not her water breaking. Blood.

Soarynn chokes out a sob as she grabs for the telephone, her vision becoming more and more spotty as more blood trickles out of her and down her leg onto the hardwood floor. She should call Coriolanus. This constitutes an emergency. But didn't he mention a big meeting that was happening today? What if he gets mad? Or says she's making it into a bigger deal than it is?

More pain shoots through her body and Soarynn cries out, attempting to hold her stomach but failing as her knees buckle out from under her and she's forced to grip the mantel with all her strength. She needs help, needs to call someone. But who? Who does she know? She doesn't have any friends. Not real ones anyway.

And most people are at work. Who does she know that doesn't work? That could help her in this state of emergency?

The Vickers. The Vickers who helped the other Mrs. Snow when she was bleeding out. Soarynn frantically dials their number, praying for someone to answer. She hasn't really spoken to Lysistrata since that one afternoon when Festus called them those nasty names. Coriolanus didn't like her hanging around them so she didn't hang around them. Simple as that.

Soarynn whimpers as the phone rings, and rings, and rings until finally, someone picks up, "Vickers residence, to whom am I speaking?"

Soarynn doesn't recognize the voice which means Lysistrata isn't home but she's desperate for anyone at this point. "Hello?" She gasps, the pain causing her to grit her teeth, "Hello this is Soarynn Snow." The line goes silent for a second and Soarynn fears they might have lost a connection. "Soarynn? Soarynn Nightingale?"

Hearing her maiden name is an all too painful reminder of the girl she used to be. Coriolanus took everything from her, including her last name.

"Yes," she says, "yes that's me. I...I need help." In the moment she realizes how crazy she must sound. Coriolanus would be furious if he heard her talking just now, heard how rude and informal she was being but she doesn't quite care at the moment. "What's wrong dear? Is your husband home?"

Soarynn nearly laughs at the question because for once she wishes her husband was home. "No," she says, "no he's at work and there's blood and I'm pregnant and," she stops herself for a moment, debating on whether or not to admit her fear, "and I'm scared," she whispers, tears falling down her face.

She's scared for herself, for her baby, and how Coriolanus will react.

Whoever is on the other line begins shouting all sorts of things and Soarynn can hear people in the background, "Soarynn? Soarynn you stay right there sweetheart, okay? We're coming."

Soarynn feels some sort of relief knowing that help is on the way but she's still scared. And what will Coriolanus think when he comes home to find her missing? She needs to call Festus.

Festus is practically her husband's right-hand man, he was the best man at their wedding and he even has a key to their penthouse. Soarynn knows his number by heart. She also knows that he's already home from work. She feels terrible for hanging up the phone but her guilt doesn't stop her from doing it before she's dialing the Creed's number.

Festus thankfully picks up immediately and she can hear him arguing with his wife Persephone, "Just give me a fucking minute Persephone," he hisses, "anyways, sorry about that, what do you need Coriolanus? More drugs? A freakier wife?" Soarynn pales at his vulgar questions but chooses to ignore them for the time being, "Festus," she whispers, her strength fading away by the second. "Soarynn? What's wrong? Is Coriolanus home?"

Soarynn bites back a pained cry and she looks back down to see a pool of blood has accumulated on the floor and she feels herself slowly fading into unconsciousness. "I...I'm having a miscarriage," she whispers before the world goes black.

꧁ ꧂

"Soarynn? Soarynn can you hear me?"

Everything feels so far away. Soarynn can hear people, feel her body being moved but she only sees black.

"...need to go to the hospital..."

She thinks she can hear Festus but she's not sure, everything is moving in slow motion.

She can see flashes of memories in front of her, memories of when she was a little girl, happy and carefree. She sees her younger self running in their backyard, smiling and chasing a butterfly. Soarynn can feel the warm summer breeze on her skin, the grass beneath her bare feet. She watches her younger self roll on the grass, giggling without a care in the world.

Suddenly she stops, she looks up at Soarynn. Neither of them quite knows what to do for a moment before her younger self pushes herself from the ground and runs towards her with a smile on her little face, "You're me!" She says, stopping right in front of Soarynn.

Soarynn swallows and nods, "Yes I am." Her younger self tilts her head, "Why are you here? I don't think you're supposed to be here." She's right, she shouldn't be here and yet here she is.

"Something bad is happening," Soarynn says softly, realizing that this little girl has yet to be subjected to the worst years of her life all by the hands of Coriolanus Snow.

Her younger self frowns, "Well can we fix it? Fix the bad thing?"

Soarynn feels a sad smile tug on her lips at her naive ways of thinking. If only it were that easy to fix. "No," she tells her, "we can't fix it. I'm sorry." She can feel tears in her eyes, "I'm so sorry," she whispers, "so sorry for everything." She wants so badly to protect this little girl, to take her inside and pour her some lemonade and braid her hair.

Her younger self shrugs, "It's okay, whatever you do, it's okay."

Soarynn nods and wipes her tears with the back of her hand, "I should go, I...I have a lot waiting for me when I wake up."

"You should float up," her younger self suggests, "you know how we float in the bathtub?"

Soarynn nods, remembering when she'd fill the bathtub with bubbles and float in the water, imagining she could fly. She can hear a beeping sound, it's from some medical equipment. She has to go.

"I used to float," she says, watching her younger self drift away from her mind.

"Now I just fall down."

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn wakes up in a hospital bed.

It's so bright. She reaches up to shield her eyes and lets out a groan when she feels a strange pain in her stomach. Soarynn looks down at her bump and it's not there. It's not there.

Soarynn feels her bottom lip trembling as she runs her hand over her hospital gown, her stomach smooth as it was before she ever got pregnant. Where is her baby?

She slowly looks up at the foot of her bed and she sees him sitting there, watching her.

Coriolanus.

He's so quiet. There are bags under his eyes. His perfectly styled golden curls are unruly and tangled. The look in his eyes is so hollow.

For a moment neither of them say anything. Words can not convey their grief, their loss. Soarynn likes to think that her baby boy is somewhere safe but she knows that is not the truth. He's not safe in the way she intended at least.

The doctor breaks their silence by knocking and coming into the room, a clipboard in her hand. The woman gives her a sympathetic smile and looks down at Coriolanus, "Why don't you let me talk to your wife for a moment?" Coriolanus silently stands up and leaves the room, not sparing Soarynn a glance.

The doctor closes the door before she sighs, "How are you feeling?"

"Where's my baby?" Soarynn asks, her voice scratchy. The doctor grabs the chair that Coriolanus was sitting in and pulls it up to Soarynn's side before she takes a seat.

"When you were found in your apartment you were lying on the floor, unconscious in a pool of your own blood. The Vickers and the Creeds found you and brought you here where we attempted to save you and your baby. There was...a complication with the pregnancy, undetected until now. We had no choice but to perform an emergency cesarean section to deliver the stillborn child to ensure that you survived."

She survived. Her son did not.

Soarynn is overcome with emotions as she begins to cry, her body racks with her sobs as she grieves the life of her unborn child. "Why...why didn't you save him?" She gasps, looking at the doctor through tears, "You should have saved him and not me."

The doctor frowns and shakes her head, gently placing a hand on Soarynn's shoulder, "Mrs. Snow, your life was of more importance. People need you." Soarynn lets out a bitter laugh, "No one needs me."

Her son would have needed her. But he's gone.

"This type of grief is normal, all of this is perfectly normal considering what you've been through," the doctor slowly says, "losing a child is never easy." Soarynn looks around the room, her vision blurry with tears, "Where is he? Where is my baby?"

"Mrs. Snow, it is not suggested that the mother of a deceased newborn sees her ba-"

"I want to see him," Soarynn says, cutting her off. Her voice trembles but she says it, she means it. She gives the doctor a determined look, one she hasn't worn in years. The doctor purses her lips for a moment, "Alright. Would you like your husband to be here to offer you some comfort in your time of grief?"

Soarynn stares at the wall in front of her and shakes her head as she answers, not even hesitating. "It's not what he's made for."

꧁ ꧂

Neither of them says a word as Coriolanus unlocks the doors to their penthouse. Soarynn keeps her head down and rests her hands on her stomach, thinking about the little boy she held in her arms one day ago.

He hadn't been ready, ready to see her, to meet her. He didn't look ready. He was so small, so fragile. The doctor said that he might have been born with a physical deformity if the pregnancy hadn't been fatal. Soarynn wouldn't have cared. She would have loved him with all her heart.

They're both dressed in black. She hears voices as they walk into the penthouse, people are here in the living room. Soarynn rubs her stomach, thinking of the white line that now runs up the middle of her abdomen. The doctor gave her a cream to apply so that the scar would fade completely. Coriolanus will want it gone as soon as possible.

He had only spoken to her once in the hospital after she held their son and they took him away. He'd placed a hand on her head and let out a deep sigh, "What did he look like?" Soarynn had thought for a moment of what to tell her husband who had been as desperate as she was to meet their son. "He looked like a Snow," Soarynn had replied.

That was all they spoke of in regard to their son. Soarynn knew how this would go. Coriolanus would want to move forward as soon as possible. They'd have the funeral and that would be it. This wasn't the first child that the Snow family had lost.

Soarynn feels herself shrinking into her shell as they walk down the hall. All she wants to do is sleep and forget all of this, not talk to people. Coriolanus places his large hand on the small of her back, "Just for a little while," he says as if knowing her aversion to people right now. Soarynn nods, knowing that she doesn't have a choice.

They're greeted by several mournful faces when they finally enter the living room. Her inlaws are here, of course, the Creeds as well. Clemensia is also here along with the Vickers.

"We apologize for the delay," Coriolanus says, his voice distant and hard, "there was a bit of paperwork that needed to be filled out before Soarynn was discharged." He's met with understanding nods, all eyes watching as he leads the two of them to the loveseat in their living room. Soarynn slowly sits down, remembering the doctor advising her to move slowly for the next few weeks.

Mrs. Snow is the first one to speak up, "I'm so sorry my darling."

Soarynn keeps looking down at her lap until Coriolanus nudges her shoulder and she looks up, unable to hide her look of surprise when realizing that Mrs. Snow was talking to her, not her son. Soarynn puts on a small, forced smile, "Thank you."

Festus clears his throat, "So what did the doctor say it was exactly?"

There's an awkward shift in the room but Coriolanus answers his friend, "A chromosome abnormality." Festus widens his eyes slightly before nodding along with his wife. Persephone is pretty, but she's also quite dull in Soarynn's opinion. She's superficial and vapid which makes her perfect for Festus.

"Perhaps it was for the best then," she says softly, giving Festus a knowing look and he nods. Soarynn furrows her eyebrows, "Excuse me?" her voice is sharp, sharper than it's ever been when addressing people.

Persephone swallows and nervously looks around the room but no one meets her eyes, "I mean, clearly your child would have suffered greatly had the pregnancy been successful. He would have been socially hindered in several aspects."

Soarynn doesn't consider herself an angry person but she's downright furious right now. Persephone Creed has some nerve insinuating that her son would have been a social outcast.

She doesn't have to take this, doesn't need this right now. She just lost her son. Soarynn slowly stands up, ignoring the look Coriolanus shoots her. She first walks over the the Vickers who look as uncomfortable as she is right now. Soarynn has no doubt that they were invited out of sheer politeness, especially since they helped save her life. "Thank you for everything," she says gently.

Mrs. Vickers gives her a small smile and reaches out to gently take her hand, "We are truly sorry for your loss, we'll be praying for you and your family." Soarynn nods, she's going to need all the prayers she can get. She pulls her hand away and turns to face the Creeds, those horrible, horrible people.

She can't be mad at Festus. Well, not as much as she'd like to get mad because he did in a way help save her life as well. She focuses in on Persephone who's looking up at her, wide-eyed. Soarynn doesn't hesitate to hold her head up high as she addresses the woman.

"Fuck. You."

She can hear Mrs. Snow gasp but Soarynn pays her no mind, "I'd brush up in my manners if I was you," Soarynn continues, "because it is highly frowned upon to berate someone's dead child one day after their death."

Soarynn doesn't wait for a response before she turns on her heel and storms out of the living room, down the hall, out the front doors, and into the elevator. She manages to hold it in until she gets into their car, "Take me to my father's house please," she whispers, her throat already closing up. The driver gives her a nod along with a pitying look, "Yes ma'am."

And in the backseat of the car on her way to her childhood home, Soarynn finally allows herself to break down.

꧁ ꧂

Her father didn't know what to say when she stumbled onto the front doorstep, her familiar baby bump now gone. Coriolanus hadn't told him. Of course, he didn't tell him.

Soarynn had cried in his arms and for once, was offered genuine comfort. Her father knew all about loss, they both did now.

Once she was done crying she went up to her old room and curled up under the safety of her covers. She'd have to come clean to her father, tell him about Coriolanus and his abusive, controlling nature. She had to get out. She had to get out.

She was deep asleep when she heard male voices. Two voices. One belonged to her father, a man who tried his best to protect her. The other belonged to her husband, the man who was supposed to protect her.

She only caught bits and pieces from their conversation.

"...didn't tell me where she was going..."

"...just seeking out comfort Coriolanus..."

"...try again soon..."

"...didn't even call me when it happened..."

"...back in two days..."

꧁ ꧂

When Soarynn woke up her mouth was dry and her mind was foggy. It was strange to be back in her childhood bedroom, surrounded by all the things that used to bring her comfort. The space was slightly tainted by all the things she and Coriolanus had done in here upon his demand.

A soft knock at the door alerted Soarynn of her father's presence as he slowly opens the door. She can see he's brought tea and for that she's thankful. She probably needs it after all the crying she's been doing as of late. "How're you feeling?" He asks gently, sitting on the edge of her bed Soarynn shrugs, "I don't feel quite like myself anymore." Her father nods, "Well, that's to be expected after what you just went through."

Soarynn bites her inner cheek because she's not talking about the very recent loss of her unborn son. She's talking about every moment she's spent with Coriolanus Snow in her life, controlling her life, dictating her life.

"It's not the miscarriage," she whispers, her voice is hoarse. Her father frowns and places his hand over his, "Then what is it, honey?"

Soarynn can feel it all bubbling to the surface, all these years of mental and sexual angst building up and it all spilled out.

"It's him," she breathes, feeling like a weight has been lifted off her chest, "it's Coriolanus. I...I'm miserable, absolutely miserable with him. I can't go back, I don't want to go back."

Her father shakes his head, "Soarynn he loves you, he...he was so worried about you, he even came to find out where you'd run off to." Soarynn cards her fingers through her hair, "He's a liar. He lies to everyone, manipulates everyone."

Soarynn watches her father's face and she can see him fighting some internal debate on whether or not to believe his daughter.

"He raped me."

She was prepared to take it to the grave but she has to say it once, has to know that she told one person.

It feels good to say out loud, to admit, to acknowledge.

Her father's face morphs from one of concern to one of anger, "He what?" Soarynn stares at her duvet covers as she remembers what Coriolanus did to her all those years ago. She's so far removed from it now, but she knows what he did to her.

"I went to his penthouse, and he had these pills and...and he took everything from me," she whispers the last part, tears falling down her face, "and if I go back then he's going to make me have another baby and I can't." Her voice breaks as Soarynn realizes what she'll be subjected to when she returns to the penthouse.

She knows her husband well enough to know what he'll do and say, how he's going to act. She can't do it, she can't. She looks up to find her father still in shock, "I...Soarynn I can't believe you've carried this with you all this time. It's been seven years."

Soarynn laughs, it's a crazy, delusional laugh but it feels good to laugh, "Who would've believed me? The quiet, timid girl with no friends? He's a Snow, no one would have believed me."

Even her own father had fallen for Coriolanus and his charms.

"You need to file for divorce," her father says, his voice so steady and determined, "it's domestic abuse, it's...it's unforgivable. We'll go to the courthouse tomorrow and then we can call our lawy-"

"I can't," Soarynn cuts him off, "I can't go through a public divorce. He won't leave me alone, I know he won't. I'm always going to live under his thumb."

Her father swallows, "Then I don't know what to do to help you, and I wish I could Soarynn. But divorce is the only option."

No, it's not, she thinks to herself, but the other option is entirely too selfish.

Soarynn gives him a reassuring smile, comforting him with words she so desperately wishes to hear, "It'll be alright. But promise me that you'll look after Petunia should I consider divorce. I know Coriolanus won't want anything to do with her." Her father sighs but nods, "Of course honey. He actually dropped her off when he came to visit." Soarynn feels a sense of relief wash over her when hearing that.

"Good," she decides, "you two can keep each other company then."

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn lays in the bathtub of her childhood bathroom, staring up at the ceiling.

It's all been done, been written. She feels horrible for leaving. Leaving Petunia and her father, she knows that they'll be okay. They'll forgive her.

She's written letters to those who deserve them, those who showed her an ounce of kindness over these seven years. It's a terribly selfish thing that she's about to do but for once, she deserves to be selfish.

Soarynn takes one more deep breath before sinking down under the warm water. It's like a warm hug. Then slowly, she pushes all the air out of her body, her lungs slowly emptying.

It's not painful. It's quiet. Like her.

She feels so happy. Something she forgot.

Something she's not

But something she can be.

Something she waits for.

Something she's made for.

She's floating now.

She wonders when her father will find her. What people will say about Coriolanus Snow's wife killing herself in the bathtub? He won't care. He won't grieve her or miss her. He'll remarry, have a perfect family with a perfect wife. But when he looks down at her in her casket, dressed in her favorite dress with her hands perfectly folded, what will he think?

Will he think she looks pretty?

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus, Since the day I met you, I've yearned for an explanation. Why did you do the things you did to me? Why did you pick me? What did I do to deserve that? I suppose I'll never know the truth, you've never been good at telling it. But I'll leave you with this explanation of why I left. I think it's the easiest thing I've ever done. It's the first thing I've ever done for myself. I chose myself. I don't expect you to mourn me, it won't be genuine. I don't expect you to keep my things, my books, my clothes. My father will take them. Petunia as well, I don't think she's ever liked you. I'm sorry about our son, I truly am. I hope you are too. I'm going to see my son. I'm going to see my mother. I'm going to see your sister. I'm sure we'll all agree that I deserved better. - Soarynn

꧁ ꧂

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[ramblingoak]

Peonies

Mushy May in Lucifer's Hollow: Day 13 - I Just Wanted To Hear Your Voice

Mountain x Rain

This fic is set in an alternate universe in a town called Lucifer's Hollow. It's sort of like a Satanic version of a Hallmark town. For Mushy May I'll be using the prompts to post little snippets of life for the humans and ghouls that live there 💙 Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together!

~ In Lucifer's Hollow Mountain has a little farm and sells flowers at the local farmer's market. Rain meets him there while selling his art. ~

Warnings: none, sfw, 570 words (thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the dividers!)

His phone started ringing as soon as Mountain threw the truck into park.

“Shouldn’t you be schmoozing the crowd right now, duckweed?”  He grabbed his wallet and the flowers before getting out.  The art gallery was across the street and Mountain took a fortifying breath before beginning to cross.  Fancy events weren’t his thing but he’d suffer through anything for Rain.  “You there?”

“Yeah.”  

Mountain frowned at Rain’s voice.  It sounded off, quiet and wavering.

“Everything ok?”  

“Sorry.  I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Hey, you don’t need to apologize for that.”  He paused outside the building, peering into the windows to try and find Rain amongst the crowd inside.  “Did something happen?”

“No, no, everything's ok.  I promise.”  Mountain heard Rain sigh and when he spoke again his voice was barely above a whisper.  “I wish you were here.”

The guilt was immediate, gripping his chest like a living thing.  Mountain had felt terrible about not being able to come with Rain.  The water ghoul had gotten invited to display his work during an art show in a nearby town, his very first art show, but Mountain had needed to stay behind.  Every year Lucifer’s Hollow had a huge community picnic and Mountain made more money that day then he did throughout the whole winter season.  It wasn’t something he could miss.

He had spent his entire day there, selling bouquets and plants nonstop.  Right up until Primo and Sunshine appeared, sending him home to change and get on the road.  Mountain hadn’t wanted to at first, not wanting them to miss out on spending time with their own families but his friends had been insistent.  He raced home to throw on the nicest jeans and flannel he had, quickly clipped some flowers and managed to make it to the art show right before it started.

“Yeah, about that,”  Mountain pulled open the door to the gallery and strode in, his eyes scanning the crowd.  It would probably be easier for Rain to find him amongst everyone.  Even without his horns Mountain was nearly a head taller than anyone else.  He was also sticking out like a sore thumb with how he was dressed but right now all he cared about was finding Rain.  “Where are you?”

“I’m at the gallery.”

“Where in the gallery?  I have a delivery for you.”

“What?”  Mountain grinned when he heard the sound of a metal door creaking open, realizing that Rain had probably been hiding in a bathroom stall.  “What kind of delivery?”

“Quit hiding and you’ll find out.”

Mountain ended the call, shoving his phone into his pocket and then fixing the bouquet up a bit.  He had chosen peonies since they symbolize good luck.  The only ones that were blooming were pink but it was the exact same pink that graced Rain’s cheeks when he made the water ghoul blush so they were perfect.

“Mountain?”  He turned at Rain’s hopeful voice and his arms were immediately full of his boyfriend.  Mountain buried his nose in Rain’s hair, inhaling his scent and then pressing as many kisses he could into the dark blue strands before Rain pulled away.  “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too, duckweed.”  Mountain handed Rain his flowers, pleased to see his cheeks brightening.  With his hands free he cradled those same cheeks in them, tilting Rain’s face so he could lean down and kiss him.  “Me too.” 

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

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