#but it is WAY longer than i meant it to be

[woso-dreamzzz]

Leaving III

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: You've made a mistake

Poland was meant to be perfect and, for the most part, it was.

You got to learn a new language, get a girlfriend and train with some of the best in your sport.

But, you had always been like your sister.

You were Alexia's mirror in some of the worst ways.

She had a temper when she was younger. She was stubborn and frustrated and hated losing. You'd seen her yell at teammates when she was younger about missed tap-ins and shitty crosses.

Tennis is not a team sport but you can feel the same frustration bubble up within you as you're once again outclassed by your training partner.

She's ranked first in the world, of course she's better than you but you're still a wonderkid (Spain's prodigy, you can hear echoing in the back of your mind) and usually, you can hold your own better than this.

You're not running fast enough. You're not swinging hard enough. You're missing easy volleys and your serve is abysmal.

You want to go home.

You want to go back to Spain, back to Mollet de Vallès where you're leagues ahead of the competition.

You sniffle a little, curling up on your bed with your phone stuck to your ear.

There isn't a time difference from Spain to Poland so you know she won't be sleeping. You also know she won't ignore your call.

Alexia loves you too much for that.

"Are you okay?"

You don't call regularly. You're not much of a texter either. That was okay when you were still at home, where Alexia could drop in unannounced whenever and find you either on the courts or curled up in your bed with a movie playing.

You both have gotten used to the long stretches of time you spend away from each other.

But Alexia asks the exact same thing every time you're on a call.

It's only this time though that you feel a sob force its way up your throat.

"No," You choke out," No. I want to come home."

From across the world, curled up in her own bed, in her own home, next to her own girlfriend, Alexia's heart breaks.

She wants you home too.

When you were little, Alexia could pick you up out of your bed and just put you in hers. She could do it whenever she felt like it, for any reason she wanted.

If she wanted little sister cuddles or if she missed you or for something as simple as freaking out Alba in the morning when she was sent to get you up.

As you got older and Alexia moved away for football, she no longer dragged you out of bed but rather just slid into yours. You used to pretend that you hated it.

You would groan and complain and say she was stealing your blankets but you never kicked her out, even when she did annoying things like poke you in the cheek or dig her fingers into your side.

"I want you to come home too," Alexia says back to you and you sag in relief onto your bed.

"This was a mistake," You continue," Ale, I've made a huge mistake. I...I'm not cut out for this. I can't do this."

Alexia wants you at home. She wants you at home in your room in Eli's house where she knows your routine and your patterns and could probably track you down in half an hour.

In Spain, Alexia knows everything about you.

She knows your favourite restaurants and which tennis courts you prefer on sunny versus rainy days. She knows your friends and their families and that old couple just down the way whose dog you sometimes walk when you want a break from homework.

Alexia likes you in Spain, where she can drop everything to give you a hug and look after you and pull the sides of her jacket around you even as you try to wiggle out of whatever hug she's trapped you in.

But you've not made a mistake going to Poland, no matter what you think.

Nothing you've done in Poland is something you should regret.

You're getting the challenge you need to be a better player.

Sports are expensive and it has always been hard on Eli to keep up with everything you need even though Alexia has always been willing to pay for it all.

You were the best in Mollet del Vallès because the talent pool was so low.

It's good for you to learn from others, from other international stars that are legendary in your sport.

Alexia can admit that there's probably a few things you regret in life. But this shouldn't be one of them.

"You can," She says to you," Because you're a Putellas and we're not quitters."

"I am," You reply," I don't mind being a quitter."

Alexia sighs. You've always been stubborn.

"You're not a quitter," She insists," Because you love tennis and you're talented at it. You've got to stumble a little bit to get better."

"I don't want to stumble," You say," Ale, I don't. I'm not cut out for this."

"You are," Alexia says," I promise you are. You are going to be the greatest tennis player in the world someday, I know it. You're going to win the Ballon D'or of tennis one day."

That shocks a laugh out of you. "Alexia," You say," There's no Ballon D'or for tennis."

"Well if there were, you'd win it," She says decisively," But you've got to keep trying, alright? Keep going. Hold out for this month, okay? Get through this month and if you still hate it and if you still think it was one big mistake then I'll talk to Mama and we'll bring you home. But you have to try, alright? You have to really put in effort. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Alexia."

"Good."

Like usual, there's radio silence from you for a good few weeks but Alexia expected that.

She's on camp near the end of the month and doesn't really think about the deadline she's set for you. It's not like there was any actual risk that you were going to quit tennis.

You needed it like Alexia needed football.

"Uh oh," Jenni laughs under her breath as the team walk back into the hotel lobby," Here comes trouble."

You're sitting at reception, scrolling on your phone with a bag at your feet and Alexia's heart sink.

No.

There's no way you've quit tennis.

You love it.

"Well, well, well." Jenni's unaware of the crisis Alexia's currently facing, ruffling your hair before you even know she's there. "Look at you. Still tiny."

"I was never tiny!" You say, cheeks puffed out in outrage," You're just freakishly tall!"

Jenni laughs, reaching to ruffle your hair again. You duck out of the way and scamper behind Alexia, offering her up as Jenni's next victim.

Alexia frowns though. "Why are you here?"

Worry courses through her veins.

There's no way you could have quit tennis. There's no way that you've managed to do that without telling her first.

"Mama is on that cruise with Tia and Tio. Alba is out of the country." You huff. "Mama says that I must be with a responsible adult during my break. She sent me to you. Are you not happy to see me, Ale?"

"I'm happy to see you, Menor!" Jenni calls out.

"Stop calling me that!"

Finally, Alexia's brain catches up with your words. "During your break?"

You nod. "Uh-huh. I've got two weeks off for rest and recuperation and then we're on warm-ups for the next tournament."

"Warm-ups in Poland?" Alexia checks and your brow furrows in confusion.

"Of course in Poland. Where else would I be?"

Alexia takes your hand. "Nowhere."

She drags you up into her room. As one of the captains, she's entitled to having it all to herself. She doesn't even stop to think how she's going to explain this to the staff, just happy to have you all to herself again like she did when she was younger.

You fit into her bed like you did when you were younger too, namely by dragging almost all of her pillows to your side and hogging the blankets.

It's easy to curl around each other now, even though you've grown up and can't fit in Alexia's arms anymore.

It's easy to talk too, as you explain all the new things you've been learning and how excited you are for your next tournament.

It's even easier to fall asleep together, your head pillowed on Alexia's chest (even though you made such a point over stealing all of her actual pillows) and Alexia's hand frozen in the act of getting the knots out of your hair.

It's even worth Jenni and Irene's teasing in the morning when they both burst in to find you both still in the same position.

[fairene]

one of your girls part two / ln4 sneak peek

sneak peek for a lando x fem!reader part two. read it here

warning: minors dni!!, language, smut (not in this sneak peek, but there will be.) no use of y/n, of course, potentially harsh language, ANGST (SORRY, not sorry(?)), drinking, jealousy!!! toxic, miscommunication.

a/n ⋯ as always, i am open to taking requests. don't be afraid to hit me up hehe 💗 this should be posted within the next few days...!! afterwards, i'm solely devoting to answering requests. all of your ideas are spectacular!!! i can't wait to put them to pen and paper. stay tuned!

raphael is a new character being introduced. for...purposes that this author cannot disclose just yet ;). i hope this will keep everyone fed before the full thing drops! aiming for around. . .. 18k words, hopefully, but i also don't want to drag it on longer than it needs to be, haha.

“don’t do that.” you said, breaking the silence between you two. you seemed to rip him out of his dreamscape with a clearing of his throat. 

“do what?” he feigned innocence. though he knew what he was doing. he missed you, lest he verbalize that. 

“look at me,” you breathed, “like that.” 

his brow lifted, still playing dumb. dumb, as if he didn’t want to take you over this railing, ask you to be his. 

“like what?”

you scoffed. 

“like you’re in love with me.” 

ouch. your words bit harder than he thought they would, blood gushing from an open wound in his heart. he let your words settle before he leaned back in the chair, legs spreading as he fiddled with the skin of his thumbs. 

“i wanted to see you.” 

“i know,” you answered. “you saw me. now what?” 

lando shook his head. “don’t do that.” please don’t do that he wanted to say. 

“do what?” it was your turn to play dumb. your turn to pretend that you weren’t doing the same thing. pushing him away was the easiest way to deal with all of your problems. 

“act so cold.” he turned his head away from you, glancing over towards the lights of the city. “giving me frostbite.” 

“lando, what–”

“i’m sorry.” 

huh? you froze, eyes widening as you straightened upright. did you hear him correctly? it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve heard an apology. but this was a first to hear it in person, not in begging text messages half way across the world. 

“what–?”

“for everything. i’m sorry.” his head fell to his hands as he leaned over, gripping at the curls atop his head. you felt the same urge creeping up your spine, your hands feeling empty. you shifted on your feet, stepping a foot closer. 

“why now?”

he perked up, wondering what you meant. 

“why, now, are you sorry?” 

he was speechless. unable to form the words that could answer such a  vague question. but you had an idea, so you thought you’d share. 

“because i was with someone?” raphael. you know that he saw the two of you talking. chatting. maybe an occasional giggle so you could keep him quiet for the rest of the free practices. 

lando began to shake his head. “no, no–” 

“really?”

you stepped into his space, wedging yourself between his thighs. he stared up at you, lost in the reflection of your eyes beneath the starlit sky. his hands found your hips and you let him keep them there, at least for the moment. 

“really.” he promised you. head leaning forward to rest on your stomach. you felt the perch of his nose dig into your skin. your head leaned back, taking a large breath, feeling tears begin to well. 

“what do you want, then?” you said with a shaky breath. 

you felt his hands tense against your hips. 

“i don’t know.” his words were muffled, but you could make them out. it shattered you to hear the creak in his voice, but it hurt even more knowing that he didn’t know. you wanted something with him. a relationship. but he didn’t feel the same.

your fingers cupped his face, bringing him to look at you. “that’s it, then, huh?” your voice was dangerously soft. 

he was confused. again. 

“that’s all i’ll be?” he still didn’t catch on, too busy staring at your flushed face, reddened eyes. he wanted to fix it– take back his words. he’d do anything to reverse time. would do anything to revoke the words that spilled from your pretty lips. 

“one of your girls.”

my face posting this

[b14augrana]

‘Kiss of Strife’

Football has always been your safe haven, but your home life gradually starts to manifest in different ways away from home, which doesn’t go unnoticed by your captain

Alexia Putellas x teen!reader

pt. 2 masterlist

Warnings: this story contains depictions of family issues associated with emotional unavailability and forms of abuse. please tap out if this content makes you uncomfortable and read at your own discretion

A/N: an alexia x teen!reader angst fic was requested so here it is!! i decided this will be multiple parts as well so i hope you enjoy this chapter and the rest of this little series

(i wrote this pretty late at night and it isnt proofread so please excuse any mistakes regarding the tense, grammar etcetc)

Everything is perfect.

You’re scoring goals for your club and bagging assists. Your name is no longer a strange string of consonants and vowels but a recognisable word within the community of Cataluña, and it is only because of an ambition you dedicated the rest of your life to pursuing.

That’s just in the face of football though.

At home, there is a drought. The four walls of a family house are meant to behave like a dam which stores love and affection in the place of water, but your house is devoid of that.

Your house fosters a bitterness that doesn’t go hand in hand with anything along the lines of love and affection. The drawings on the fridge, created by a 5-year-old you, have faded over time, the ink being nothing more than splotches in some areas — a testament to the lack of care and attention your efforts received.

Relationships are barely surviving on simple greetings and empty ‘I love yous’. You crave something that is dangerous to want, but in your heart burns a desire to get the hell out.

Your lullaby is the faint yelling from the living room as you shut your eyes and focus on the gradually increasing volume of both voices, contradicting each other and trying to stab each other with no blade.

Your little sister crawls into your bed, her body flush against yours, another little arm wrapped around hers. Beneath your covers, there is warmth. Beneath your grip, there is safety.

During the school holidays, a child is supposed to savour every waking moment they spend at home and appreciate every day of it. You find yourself asking God why that isn’t the case, as you walk to practise with your sister’s hand in yours.

She sits on the sidelines picking grass as you train with your teammates, dreading the inevitable passing of minutes as you practise skill after skill. When you retreat to the bench for a quick water break, she runs up to you, bunches of chamomiles clutched in her hands that she begs to insert between the weaving of your braid.

From the day of your first training with the team, Alexia was drawn to you. She blamed it on her captain instincts, seeing as you’re the youngest on the team and therefore has the most potential, but now it’s gone beyond her captaincy. She’s known you for months, almost a full year now. She isn’t just your captain anymore.

She isn’t aware of the reality of your home life beyond the telltale signs such as the slightly sunken skin below your eyes or the bruises that taint your skin and are allegedly caused by your ‘clumsiness’. She knows there is something more to the extra effort you constantly put into training and games — she doesn’t know yet that it’s the pent up anger, sadness and fear manifesting in more productive forms.

You pour your heart and soul into the movement of the ball, in hopes that you can pursue your dreams of running away from what is restricting you from pursuing even greater dreams, an actual dream.

School starts back up for your sister. Things have been looking up for you, a huge burden off your shoulders. The house hasn’t shaken with another argument for a while and for once you get to know what silence is while you sleep, really sleep.

With every passing day, you find your memories with your father to resemble a garden; you can’t have a garden without flowers, just like how you can’t have memories of him without doing anything with him. When you were young, your garden was comparable to a rainforest, a new species in every corner, a kaleidoscope of beauty..

Until there was no more new species to plant and nurture, and the ones that already existed were getting neglected because all that you receive when you look at them are sour memories of what once was — the gardener you used to be, how rich the soil was, how steadily the flowers grew and how proud you were of your garden.

Your garden is dead now. It has gotten to the point where he doesn’t care about planting new flowers or watering the plants that already exist, leaving them to die of thirst. He’s absent and his emotional unavailability killed your flowers.

The little girl in you that wanted nothing else but love from her parents, loved that garden with her whole heart. She would’ve done anything she could to plant one more flower, she would’ve used the last drop of water in a drought to water her plants.

Alexia noticed something different about you today. The way you bounced around rather than the usual trudge… you had actual, sleep-induced energy.

Your sister also isn't with you. Alexia later asks you about it while you two are getting water and she learns that your sister is at school, and there is a smile on your face that she didn’t even realise had been absent for days until she saw it again.

Alexia has always been nice to you. The others treat you like a teammate, but she treats you like a friend. It feels like a special privilege, knowing ‘La Reina’ personally. She’s obviously a pillar in women’s football but to you, she’s much more.

She harbours a soft spot for you in her heart that becomes evident when she asks you if you need a ride home, and who are you to turn down such an offer when the ache in your legs is close to becoming unbearable?

“You’re talented, chica,” the woman says as you slink into the passenger seat of her car. “I haven’t had the chance to say it, but there hasn’t been a player like you for quite a bit.”

Her praise is so much more than just a couple of words from your captain. Though you smile and say a shy thank you, your heart races because you’ve just been called talented by one of the best players in the world, and there is no feeling greater than that. It gives you a tiny sliver of hope for a brighter future than what you’re already living, and for a moment, escaping your four walls seems possible.

The joy you experienced during the whole car ride is short lived once her car pulls into your driveway. Perhaps she can see the way your expression drops and your demeanour falls, because her hand finds your shoulder and squeezes it in a way that comforts you. “Do you want me to walk you to the door?” she asks, and though you really wish she could, you shake your head for the better.

There’s a slight frown on her face before she nods and drops her hand. You think about the possibility of her knowing that there’s something going on behind the closed doors of your home, and a big part of you hopes so, but no words besides a ‘gracías’ and ‘adios’ manage to find their way out of your mouth despite the pleas for help and support bubbling in your throat as you shut the door of her car.

When you reach the patio, the door opens to bombard you with the raucous of an argument happening around the corner of the hallway.

Your limbs are barely functioning and your eyes are struggling to stay open which is an obvious sign of the exhaustion soaring through your body, hence why you skip right past seeing your parents and beeline towards your sister’s room.

For as long as you can remember, arguments have been a consistent part of evenings spent in your household. Sometimes violence finds itself becoming the last resort, leaving you stuck to bear the brunt of a heavy hand. It’s what happens when two sides of the same coin try to work out — two negatives can’t make a positive, it’s impossible for them to get along and there is never a last word. That’s the unfortunate reality of your parents’ relationship.

You sink into the soft mattress of your sister’s bed and beckon her from the desk to lay beside you. She flips her paper over and abandons the seat to run over to you, her little body falling into your embrace. When she asks you what they’re talking about this time, you tell your sister that they’re just having a little disagreement, and if she sleeps it off, it’ll go away. It’s a promise, you say, before you proceed to tell her all about your training and your teammates. It’s her favourite thing, and she says it’s better than a bedtime story.

In no time, little exhales slip past her mouth as her eyes flutter shut, and you roll her off your body, tucking her into the butterfly printed duvet. With tentative steps across the hardwood, you find yourself at her desk and your fingers ghost over the piece of paper as you squint to read it in the dimness of her nightlight.

‘Mi papá hermana guapa

My sister is strong. She plays fútbol and she is good at it. My sister takes care of me and takes me to her pracktise, I like going with my sister. She helps me sleep and when I am with my sister, I am not scared. I am proud of m–…’

And the rest trails off. The body remains incomplete, but there’s one last sentence at the bottom of the page.

‘Amo a mi hermana.’

You place it back on her desk as you fail to combat the tears flooding your waterline. ‘She must’ve been instructed to write a poem by her teacher… for Father’s Day’, you think to yourself. Turning away so you don’t ruin her writing with your tears, you wiped them with the back of your Barça jacket sleeve and flipped the page around before making a dead silent exit. The house was completely still beside the low noise of talking from the TV and light snoring.

Your tears are not because of happiness. No, they stream down your face because it’s then that you realise something, and it opens up a whole new portal of questions.

As the streak of silence is broken and you’re forced to fall asleep to the low humming noise from the living room and a restless mind, you wonder what twisted realm of anger and bitterness your father lives in that forbids him from showing the smallest signs of love to his kids.

But, you already know the answer to that question, deep down. Instead, you wonder if you’ll see Alexia tomorrow, stretching in her usual spot, and you wonder if she’ll look up and smile at you again and invite you over.

You hope that’s what will happen. You pray for it.

[pedge-page]

Mother Who Indulges

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: Joel’s found other means to get his favorite snack. But he’s bad at hiding the evidence taking form on his own body.

Can be read as sequel to Mother Who Provides or on its own.

Warnings: Fat!Joel, Sub! Joel, breastfeeding, lactation kink, feedee/feeder, burping, belly worship, belly button licking, gluttony, riding, vaginial fingering, m! Masturbation, forced feeding, hands free ejaculation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, cream pie, switch dynamic at the end, Mommy and brief Daddy kink, nipple play for Joel, derogatory names such as cow or hog (towards Joel)

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Your husband was never a closet eater. 

Joel was someone who enjoyed food in the company of others. Never saw it as anything more than fuel for the body, only ate when he needed it. Sure, he wouldn’t turn down a soda and a bag of chips every blue moon, but the amount of physical labor he does at his job always combats any minimal amount of snacking he does. He’s always been in perfect, lovable shape. Not shredded abs by any means, but he had just the right strength to carry you bridal style, just the right softness to cuddle up against him like a warm pillow.

Or at least, he used to.

You started to notice it after the 6 month mark of brining your baby home. As you very slowly lost a few pounds of post partum weight, Joel seemingly started to gain them—a couple dozen of them. And it was … odd. 

He didn’t go out to eat—the man preferred a home cook meal and saving a few bucks where he could. There also weren’t any suspicious amounts of extra processed snacks coming into the house. And it’s not like Joel was slacking off on the construction site by any means. And yet, you noticed it when he started huffing just to get his once baggy jeans over his thickened belly. Or the way his shirts stretched a little tighter over his chest. Or the extra grunts after any regular amount of food. 

The only real change was that 10-month old Sarah had started refusing pre-bagged bottle milk. The little thing ONLY wanted mama’s nana’s straight from the tap. And that meant Joel’s little breastfeeding habits had to go on pause so that your baby would actually eat.

“Picky little thing,” he grumbled with folded arms as your baby sucked away happily at your breasts, all wrapped up snugly in your arms. You could see the distain in his face—the idea that Sarah was no longer going to “share” your perky tits and even more delectable breastmilk. You were a full blown cow utter live and on demand when Sarah needed it.

You only laugh. “It’s all meant for the baby anyway. Besides, you got more than enough fill, right?”

He didn’t exactly answer you that night. Just grunted and walked away. You thought that was the end of it.

Until one night: half asleep and feeling an incredibly soreness in your breasts. It felt hot, wet, and heavy like a sack of potatoes sitting atop your chest, with a leach on the end of it. Though, you did notice they gradually felt lighter, which is strange. You always filled with milk over night. Groaning, your nipples felt twisty, sore as hell. Groggily you reach under the covers—God, why are they so hard and big? I can’t even feel it … oh, oh no. why it is hairy? And there’s growling coming from below.

 Panic ensures, fear that you’re turning into some hairy wolf beast stuck in a dream, becoming misshaped and hideous and—

You wake up fully and toss the covers off, revealing your husband who’s latched on to your tit, suckling the milk like in second heaven.

You stare down at him disappointingly. Joel only just realizes he’s been caught, your nip falling from his mouth with suctioned pop, as cream pours from his lips. Caught red handed.

“Um….sorry. Was hungry.”

You wack his head hard several times, enunciating, “That-is-for-the-baby!”

“Okay okay!”

“Do you do this often when I’m asleep?”

Joel shifts up slightly, staring down at your teeth ridden mounds. He clears his throat guiltily. “…No...”

He got an earful, and you were careful to make sure he didn’t try sneaking Sarah’s breakfast off of you in the early morning again. 

And that seemed like the end of it. He never brought it up or complained again.

And yet, the man was still gaining weight like nobody’s business…

-

Joel doesn’t like sneaking around his wife. 

Realistically, he should have been losing weight, what with the extra snack of your milk each night he could enjoy now entirely off the menu. He should have not been too indulgent either, as you may have noticed his... physical difference. In fact, he was surprised it didn’t really dawn on you, where all those extra pounds on your hubby are coming from.

Joel tiptoes down to the kitchen in the late night, far after you’re lightly snoring. He makes sure not to hit the pressure sensitive creaky floorboards too. Honestly, even with the extra weight, he’s pretty good at slinky-ing around. 

But his eagerness is getting the best of him. Rumbling through his body despite the slowness in his pace. He waits all day for this moment and can’t rush it now.

He cracks open the fridge, the light illuminating the dark kitchen as he briefly scans behind him again for any signs of movement. When the area is secure, he turn back. He’s so excited, goosebumps riveting his skin. Bubbles gurgling in his stomach. He’s become gluttonous, no doubt. But when you get that high, it’s hard to just quit cold turkey. 

Reaching behind the beer bottles, carefully laid under a foil wrap of steak, is his most prized possession of the late night endeavors: that extra sum of frozen baggies of your breastmilk in the freezer that you gracious kept saved and that his even more gracious baby now refuses to drink. To his luck, you must have mentally completely forgotten about them. He always pulls three each night and lets them thaw in their hidden place in the refrigerator, waiting all day for this exact moment.

His obtuse stomach rumbles. Joel typically wears a buttoned sleep shirt as of late since it was the only thing that fit him to bed. But now the bottom few buttons had torn off, leaving his fat gut rounded and hanging out. 

The hungry man licks his lips as he tears open the first buoyant bag of cream, his lips quivering when that first scent hits his nose. “Ah—oh fuck yeah. That’s the good stuff,” he groans, but quickly softens his voice again, remembering he can’t get caught on his indulgence.

He hastily dips a fat finger into the milk and swirls it before pushing past his lips. Joel closes his eyes, humming loudly as the taste of your fine breastmilk invade his buds, travel through his electrical signals to his brain that then releases pleasure throughout his entire body. He moans around his digit, sucking every little drop until he’s close to gnawing his finger off. Then he releases with a pop and grins, dipping two more fingers and scooping it out messily. Tilting back to drink the second helping. It drips down his palm, and he’s quick to suckle it up. None can be wasted.

He suppresses a slight burp. His large stomach screaming for more, for what he came he for. Joel tilts the baggie back over his head, leaning back and drinks the entire contents. Audible gulp after gulp, the sweet taste of milk fills his tongue and travels to his happy belly. All while his other wondering hand roams over the thick, stretched flesh, right over his belly button, jiggling the heavy underside of lard. God he feels so good like this. Getting gorged out on your milk, feeling so full and fulfilled from it. 

He wags the bag once the last few drops are struggling to pour, sticking his tongue out like a dog. Heat spreads from his core down to his loins. Joel grips his hardened length over his soft pj shorts. He can’t help it. He once had prime seat to your lap, drinking straight from your tits whenever he felt like it while you jerked him off. Now reduced to palming his hard-on while lapping at your bagged milk by himself in the dark late of night.

 The first bag never lasts. He makes sure to lick any remnant on his lips, squeezing his belly and groan with a pathetic whimper. He needs more. He always needs more. Thankfully there are two more bags for tonight, but fuck he could drink 300 right now and still never be full. 

His shirt stretches tightly over his chest, and he decides to unbutton the top few stained buttons. His puffy chest bursts through the fabric like a damn. Now fully free, the silk material hanging forgotten and obscured by his massive figure, Joel can now take more enjoyment out of tearing into the next bag and downing it even faster than the first.

He huffs out, breathing for the first time after slurping the entire bag in one go. Rubbing faster up and down his stiff cock. Shit, he’s gonna cum. Feels so euphoric having his tip bump against the lower hang of his pooch. The fat tip meeting his even fatter tummy. 

And your taste. That’s what sends him over every night. Has him cumming in his sleep shorts by the time he’s finished the third bag. Joel grunts, lifting his stomach from the underside so his other hand can palm his swollen dick. “Momma’s got the best milk,” he hums to himself, eyes closed in bliss. “Oh fuck fuck fuck, fuck yeah, I’m—I’m gonna—!”

“So!”

Joel swings around, crashing his body into the open refrigerator door, spilling his precious milk all over his tits and belly. Only to be met with you, your arms folded over your  chest, spaghetti silk nightgown adorning your figure and a knowing smirk on your face.

“So this is where you’ve been getting your little extra snacks.”

He’s speechless, caught and cornered with no where to go. His mouth opens, but no words leave, like a gaping fish out of water.

“Nothing to say, Joel?” You ask with a tilt of your head.

“I—its—“ he casts down at his belly sadly. God, he looks pathetic now. Cock rock hard and stabbing through his pants, and belly flush out like a pig at a buffet. You must think he’s disgusting like this. “I…I missed your milk, baby,” he says solemnly. “Got carried away, I guess.” 

Instead of the scolding he expects, you walk up to him quietly and bring his eyes to yours. Taking the bag of half drank breastmilk, he acquiesces and lets you. 

To his surprise, you hold it up slightly to mouth level for him. “Looks like you’re not finished yet, honey.” 

Joel stares at you, confused. But when you start palming his erection, gliding your hand up and around his belly with a swirling ticklish finger before brushing back down to his dick, he doesn’t have any braincells left. You push the bag forward and his jaw drops open once again, feeding him. With you at the control, he gulps quickly, afraid to lose any as you pour the entire contents at once. He sputters a moment when the bag is empty, too caught up on the pleasurable heat spreading in his crotch and core again. You kiss his lips, the sweet taste making you realize how difficult it must have been for him to give something so delightful up.

“Mmmm, that’s better?”

“Ah—oh—oh-yeah-so good baby-shit-“ he groans as you continue your ministrations on his member. With two hands, you hoist the underside of his enlarged middle, bouncing it up and down. 

“Oh, Joel,” you tsk. “So light. So empty! We’re not done yet big boy. Not even close.”

-

 They say there’s such a thing as too much of a good thing.

But as for Joel, stripped naked and sitting his fat ass on the couch, gorging on the funneled tube that’s been cascading a mix of whole and breastmilk into his stomach, he can confidently say that saying doesn’t apply here.

His finishes a big gulp before pulling the nozzle away, letting out a massive burp. As he grips the side of his belly, the rolls on his side multiplying before his vary eyes and skin stretching like a taught balloon, he’s never felt so full in his life. 

And it feels fucking amazing. 

He’s never felt so guilt-free, so perfectly enlightened and fully allowing himself to feel pleasure like to this level. 

“You full yet?” You coo. You’re standing next to him by the cough, a gallon of mixed milk partially full in one hand as you check on your gluttonous husband.

He shakes his head, devious and energized. “Hit me again, baby!” He puts the nozzle back in his mouth and rests the back of his head on the couch headrest again.

You chuckle but does as he says, pouring the jug into the large funnel. He can’t wait fast enough for the milk to force its way through the tube and finally squirts onto his tongue again.

“That’s my good boy. Mommy loves filling you up with her milk. No need to hide it from me any more baby. You keep drinking and drinking until you’re full.”

With one hand splayed over his belly button, physically feeling his gut fill past its maximum, he gets a quick glance at you. The way you giddily grin, eyeing him up and down in his fattened state like a delicious piece of steak. He’s never felt so sexy in his life.

His cock feels it too. Reddened and swollen beyond belief. curved against the swell of his belly leaving a sticky trail where his precum keeps nudging along. Though, with how much he’s packing into his stomach, he’s struggling more and more to be able to fully grasp his cock and jerk it with the mean pumps he usually does. Joel was the type of masturbator to grip his base with one hand while the other beats his meat like a car engine. His arms still retained their muscled strength, but everywhere else was starting to fill in. Now, he can only get one hand down there to gently tug on it. 

“Poor baby, got you so fat you can basely touch that little dick?” You tease. Though at the sheer size of him, Joel Miller’s cock is anything but ‘little.’ In fact, it’s even more imposing now, like somehow he added a few extra pounds onto his mini me as well to keep the proportions the same. 

“S’not little. I can—oh fuck—still reach jus’ fine.”

Another burp billows up his throat, and he just gets the tube out of his mouth to let it out. Hell, he can barely move. The amount of effort just to sit upright again makes him bounce his whole body, the fat moving at a slower pace. Fuck, even when he can’t fully jerk his cock like he used to, the pressure of his belly on top of his tip, smushing his balls into the couch feels heavenly. Especially when he bounces and rocks back and forth slightly. Friction doing its thing and grinding his sack between his big thighs. 

“Baby,” he gasps. “M so full of you.” He peers up to you with heart, drunken full pupils as he jiggles his belly. “M’ so packed tight. So much Mommy’s milk.” One finger trails up the fold under his pec, now swollen like a breast himself, before pinching and rolling his nips between his calloused fingers.

“Yeah? Let Mommy feel.” You press your palm over his chest, down to his belly that protrudes so far out. Despite being squishy earlier this night, his stomach is indeed bursting to its limit. Hardened just as yours was right before giving birth. 

“Aww, oh Joel…” you squeeze your thumb into his belly button and grip the lower half before jiggling it roughly. He gasps and pushes him belly out further for you, rocking his hips best he can into the air. “You really are full baby, huh? Greedy greedy piggy.”

“Mhm,” he hums with a pout, licking his lips. “Momma’s fat fuckin’ gluttonous hog. ‘At’s me.”

You prop the funnel up on a coat hook before sliding down to your knees in front of your husband. He leans as far forward as possible to be able to see all over you between his chunky legs, parted to let you breathe against his tummy that’s right up against your face.

You gently caress his sides along the rounded shape, holding his middle in your hands. You’re so soft against him, so loving and careful. He feels no different right now than when he used to be able to lie on your lap and feed from your tit. It’s been so long since then, and he realizes now this is the feeling he’d been chasing bag after bag all this time.

Your soft cheek presses into his skin there, making him sigh relaxed. 

He’s getting lost in the feeling of you on him, but you need to keep him on track.

“Keep drinking. You’ve got 2 more gallons.” You point towards the table where more mixed milk sits, and Joel settles up and begins gulping his cream again.

He moans, cock twitching against your chest as your tongue swirls around his belly button, dipping inside slightly. The hairs around his happy trail feel soft as you stroke along his naval. You can hear the little sloshing of liquid inside him each time you plant a wet kiss against his skin, making out with his gorged stomach. 

The weeping end of his length bobs painfully each time you brush it. You notice he’s glancing down at you playing with him, while he continues to swallow big batches down his throat. “You want me to take care of your little problem?”

He nods pitifully. 

“Not until you’re done.” You smile, standing up and gripping his belly harshly. He grunts but doesn’t release the bottled end, sucking more milk as you slap his belly repeatedly. Watching it wobble from the sheer effort and taking a moment to settle before you slap it again. Each time he whimpers but pushes it out more, asking for another.

“Greedy“—slap—“fat“—slap—“Milk hungry“—slap—“whore.”

You squeeze his plush tit, no bigger than an A cup but still, the man had nothing there before. He grunts and eyes you, dark and pleading. “Holy fuck, You’ve even got such cute cow titties Joel.” You giggle, rolling his perked nipples under you thumb while cupping the rest of the fat pooling there. “Wouldn’t that be something? Squeezing milk from your own tits?” You place your mouth on his pecs and begin suckling like the tip of his cock. Joel tosses his head back, milk spilling from his cheeks as he howls in pleasure. 

“Oh fuck Momma that’s it—keep sucking my fat tits—christ. Fuck—fuckFUCK!” One hand caresses your hair as he whines, “I Love you.”

“I love you too. How are we doing?” You gesture to the funnel.

He tilts it upside down. “All out,” he says with a grimace.

“Good. On your knees.”

You grab his chubby hands and hoist him up, the two of you laughing when he fails after the first attempt.

When he does get to his feet, you cup his face with both hands and kiss him. “You look so fucking sexy, Joel Miller.” 

You brush his fingers under your thigh, between your slit. “Oh—shit—so fuckin’ wet,” he whispers, rubbing your slicked walls with his meaty fingers.

 Pressing your cunt against his crotch, your belly collides with his, creating the perfect friction on your clit. “I want you bigger than me when you knock me up with twins next.”

He grits his teeth and hisses against your lips. The mental image doing a whirlwind on him. You chuck two pillows to the ground for him comfort. With a big thud, he gets to one knee on the plush, then the other, arms flailing forward and hands plastered on the ground to hold his weight. His belly sags so heavily, causing him to groan. the compressed tip is damn near toughing the floorboards even as he holds cow position. 

He stares up back up at you, soft big moo moo eyes getting eager when you grab the funnel and uncap another jug.

 He used to marvel at how much pregnancy changed you. At how he changed you. Your body growing round with child, a child he put inside you, and then your tits swelling up with milk, all because of him.

And now he’s changing physically because of you too. His body filling with fat, engorged from your abundant lactation that you’re feeding him.

He sticks his tongue out without a single word, sucking in the nozzle and guzzling the milk funneling through again. 

He downs this one fast and hard, pushing away with a big sigh. “Christ, I can’t do it. MN’gonna fuckin’ explode.”

You crouch down to see his convex stomach. It’s perfectly rounded and bulging like a moon. 

He shivers when you cup the underside and glide up along, feeling how smoothed over from so much filling him. “Touch it, please touch it baby. Gonna go crazy if ya don’t.”

You watch as his eyes squeeze shut, his swaying back and forth like he’s trying to get his belly to hump his dick, or maybe the other way around. He’s helpless in this position by his own doing. 

“Aww, has my big boy had enough? No more Mommy’s milk?”

He shakes his head painfully. “More,” he croaks. God, his body is screaming no. he’s never felt so ready to turn into an atom bomb, and yet his intoxicated brain knows if he can’t down the last of this gallon, you’ll never give him the full on tap again.

Joel snatches the tunnel again, balancing on one hand briefly as he wraps his tongue around and drinks yet again. Gulp after gulp, the sweet liquid bulges in his esophagus before traveling down to his mighty belly. You kiss his cheek and hold the nozzle to his face, forcing it to stay. “Almost there, Joel, drink it to the last drop, and then you’ll get your reward…” you not so subtly squeeze your breasts together, and that does it for him.

He spits out the nozzle and falls head first to the ground, back arched as much as possible as his tummy smushes into the hardwood. With a howl, his hips jerk forward into his fat middle, suffocating the tip and he starts cumming untouched. “Oh-ah-ahaugghhh-yeah—yeah!” He hums, cheek pressed into the ground and drool and milk spilling from those sinful lips along with a litany of sexy, satisfied noises. 

All the while you praise him with kisses and gentle curls of his hair, telling him how good he’s been for you. The funnel rolls around the floor, having been drained into Joel’s gut just a moment before he gave in. 

And you’d think he was done, out for the count, needing a fat coma nap. Instead, just as you help him up to his bum, Joel snatches your waist. “Get on my lap Momma,” he slurs, licking his lips once again. You half climb, half are hoisted up to his lap, his cream coated cock still raging hard and sitting between the two of you. “Show me what those bouncing titties can do. “He slaps your breasts with little slapslapslaps. The tight grip he has on your hips forces you to begin rolling, your neglected cunt beautifully nudged against his sack with his belly and cock brushing your clit.

“Hop on Pop,” he chuckles. 

Gripping one of his shoulders, you align his cock along your soaked folds and sink down on him, the two of you sighing heavily. His sticky cum coated length needed no prep to enter you, filling your womb to the brim with his Daddy sized dick. “Gonna pump you full now, little Momma. Gonna get ya bred in no time.” Joel dips his head down and latches your tit between his jaws.

You gasp and grip his hair as he begins suckling out your warm breastmilk. It’s like all this time, he wasn’t truly even full. Like he had a separate storage in this lard living planet between you just for your hot fresh pure milk. 

“J-Joel,” you moan, eyes rolling. He’s always been good at sex. Always had a great body, but this…this is different. You can feel all of him pressing against you. Burrying your nub and hitting it so deliciously from the outside as he pummels you from the inside. You fee like a little doll, being used like a flashlight up and down along his thick cock

“That’s it, Mommy, ride me. Ride my fat cock. Ride it till ya swollen here—“ he pokes at your stomach “—as big as mine, like ya said.” You grin, biting your teeth. “B-bigger.”

He smiles. “Bigger.” His beefy hands wrap around your back and pull you as close to him as you can physically manage. “Let Daddy do all the work on that one. Just gotta take my cream, at’s all. I drink yours—n’ you take mine.”

“Mmfff--fuck—fuckyes Daddy fill me up—fill me with your cream! Ah! oh shit I’m cumming! Make me a Mommy again!”

You spasm, convulsing around Joel’s base just as he stills and ruts his second load inside you, grunting into your tits like a pained beast. You feel each pulse overwhelming your walls, yet having nowhere else to go but inside. The man has never cum so much in a second orgasm in his life, and you start to wonder if any of this is your own milk having traveled to his balls and deposited safely inside you again.

As the two of you come down, breathing in and holding one another tightly, Joel pecks at your jaw with feather kisses.

“You know…I won’t be lactating forever.” You twirl some of his curly brown hair out of his sweaty temple. “It’s going to end eventually.”

He only shrugs. 

Gasping as his dick twitches to life inside you once again, he presses his lips to yours and begins shallowly thrusting again. “Guess I’m just gonna have to keep knocking you up.”

- - - -

Notes: I have plans for more Fat!Joel content in a variety of flavors...not just subby and breastfeeding. Will be different characters and have other independent requests so stay tuned!

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[ao3commentoftheday]

There's this writer I really like in my old fandom. I used to send them anon messages here on Tumblr pretending to be a fanfic ghost blessing them, and it was fun and all for both of us. Then at one point, the writer stopped updating, and I also moved on to new fandoms. But years later, I remember their fic and read it again, only to find that it hasn't been updated for years. So I once again sent them anons as the Fanfic Ghost. This wasn't meant to pressure them. I just want them to know that I'm still around to appreciate their work. I don't know if I ever got a reply on that ask, but some days (weeks?) after I sent that message, the fic was updated. But the author also put in a note about how they actually hate that fic and implied that they felt pressured to update it because they still keep getting messages about it... I felt really bad about it that I couldn't bring myself to read the update :(

*hugs* I'm so sorry anon 💗

For what it's worth, you didn't do anything wrong. You reached out with an intent that was good - it's just that your message hit that author at a sensitive time or in a sensitive spot.

You can always send them a message again and apologize for making them feel that way? But I suspect it's a larger issue than just you.

If you're up to it at some point, maybe read the chapter and leave a comment that you were happy to receive an unexpected update, but that you're sorry the author no longer likes the fic.

I'll let the authors pitch in with whether they think those ideas are good or whether you should just step away entirely, but I really do want to emphasize that there was no way you could have known your message would go wrong. You were picking back up a mutual gag that both of you had enjoyed in the past. The author just wasn't ready go there with you is all.

[sun-e-chips]

Waterpark au Sun and Moon now in color!!!

I still need to finish their ref sheets for art-fight but I’m so so happy to finally have them colored!

Moon’s platings are colored and textured to mimic wood grains, over that he is “painted” with varying tones of blues and teals.

Sun’s platings resemble painted Aztec stone with vibrant cool and warm colors, some of the “stone” remains bare.

Up close, guests can see that both animatronics designs have intentional weathering to really sell their imagined materials.

[xxcyberhexx]

Loving You Was Like Loving The Dead

RE2!Leon Kennedy x Fem!Goth!Reader

Synopsis: Everyone wants to date the goth girl until she tries seducing you in a cemetery (aka, I suck at summaries).

Warnings: 18+ CONTENT MDNI! No Raccoon City outbreak for plot reasons. Alcohol consumption, porn with an established plot, cemetery sex, switch Leon, boot worship, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), strangers to lovers?

Word Count: 3,234

A/N: I'm not sure what sparked me to write this, but I just know Leon S. Kennedy loves goths. Don't believe me? I'm literally Capcom. Anyways, this is the first smut fic and there might be some issues with pacing but I mean its pwp so. I have never written smut but I've had two people read over this and got their okay. On a final note, my blog is open to requests so feel free to drop by or follow! :)

“Look, buddy.” Her voice was curt. She crossed her arms as she stared at him intently. “I don’t have all night.”

He cursed under his breath, glancing at the crumpled bills he had just pulled from his wallet to pile on the bar counter. He mentally berated himself because it was already bad enough that it had taken him fifteen minutes to muster up the courage to order a drink from the bartender. Unfortunately, the poor guy did not realize how short he was on funds for the evening until now. He could have sworn he had more on him, but then he recalled Chris drunkenly mentioning how he had borrowed some cash and started a tab under the poor rookie’s name before wandering off into the myriads of people on the dance floor. The older man quickly went his separate way, despite claiming several hours earlier that he would help the rookie mingle with the locals.

He was still relatively new to Raccoon City and figured he would put himself out there more now that he was finally over the breakup with his former girlfriend. Now that he was finally thinking about it, Chris dragging him here was probably a bad idea. He did not have the social skills to freely approach anyone to talk or dance, especially when most people here were part of a subculture he was incredibly intimidated by. Of course, Chris figured assigning the rookie to designated drink duty would be better. He wanted to throttle the older S.T.A.R.S member, sighing as the bartender gawked at him as if she was mentally asking if he was stupid or something. How would this night get any worse? He was just about to reason with the bartender, but before he could open his mouth to speak, a rather large bill was placed on the counter before him.

Blinking at you, his vision adjusted to the dim lighting as he took in your appearance. You were clad in dark layers, a leather jacket draped over your shoulders. The chunky platform boots you had chosen to wear meant you towered above him. His eyes could not help but rake over your body, feeling flushed as he noticed just how little the velvet skirt and fishnets left for his imagination. Risqué, and yet you looked so elegant. He could see the choker and various silver necklaces hanging from your neck, although the black and red rosary was the most prominent. Your beautiful eyes looked striking in exaggerated black eyeliner and black and grey eyeshadow hues. The black lipstick complimented the look, and you smirked when you noticed him staring at your lips far longer than he probably needed to.

“Put the change on his tab.”

The man was shocked, to say the least, his voice still caught in his throat as he admired your styled hair. You were beautiful, albeit he would never outwardly say that. Not when Chris Redfield was in the vicinity. The man would not hear the end of it from his superiors and peers if this news broke out in the police station. Chris was such a gossip, and he wanted to avoid the possibility. If the older man caught a whiff of the new rookie having his drinks paid for by a towering goth woman, it would be the joke for the next several months. Like a deer in headlights, he quickly whipped around for his friend. There was no sign of him as he briefly tuned in to Type O Negative blaring throughout the bar, the man taking note of the lyrics.

Loving you Loving you Love, loving you Was like loving the dead

He turned around to face you, watching the bartender scoop up the cash without another word to assist another customer. His face felt hot, his blue eyes meeting your sharp gaze. It felt as if he was a deceased insect being inspected from a glass frame. You studied every detail he had to offer, and he tensed up at this. You were highly observant and held your hand to him with a warm smile. He looked down at your hand, black nail polish and intricate rings decorating your fingers.

“Y/N.” You spoke.

“Leon.” He responded with a sheepish smile, hesitantly taking your hand to shake. He shivered at the cool metal, pulling away before things got awkward. “I hope you’re not expecting a dance now.”

“I don’t dance,’ you said, facing the crowd. He watched as you leaned back against the wooden counter and stared forward.

“What’s the point of going to a club if you aren’t here to dance?” He asked, the small amount of alcohol in his system betraying him. The cursed drink always made him the talkative type, although he needed liquid courage when talking with someone like you.

“Ya know, I could ask you the same.” You glanced over at him. “Who comes to a club if they can’t afford drinks?”

Leon had to give credit where it was due. You were rather blunt in your responses, albeit you had the wrong idea. “It wasn’t me who ran my tab into the ground. I don’t even have a buzz going.”

“Okay.” You laughed. “You should probably look for some new friends, especially if they can’t scrape up the cash to pay for their drinks.”

“Why would I when I have you here?” He replied, his face getting hot from his forwardness.

Leon immediately cringed at the words, mentally cursing himself for being this brave. He noticed the smug look you gave him, almost as if that was the answer you had expected. You did not respond, and he worried that maybe you would reject this shitty excuse of flirtatious advancements. He hoped this was not the end of the conversation, especially when he found you intriguing. Leon wanted to get to know you better.

“I wasn’t planning on staying long.” You responded. “Care to join me?”

-

Leon was never one for looking for trouble.

You had whisked him away from the bar, gently gripping his hand and leading him out of the establishment with the intent of surprising him. The trek down various dank allies had been spent in comfortable silence. Leon used it as an excuse to explore his surroundings, yet he had expressed hesitance when you paused in front of the large gates of an old cemetery. You let go of his hand, exchanging glances as the man watched you fidget with the loose-fitting chain. Whoever was put in charge of locking up the place did a shit job at doing so, and with a smirk, you had managed to wedge the gates enough to sneak in. This act of rebellion catches Leon off guard, and you cannot help but cackle at his nervousness.

“What are you doing?” He sputters, glancing around to make sure no onlookers are lurking about to report the two of you. “I mean, won’t we get in trouble?”

“You got other plans, handsome?” You avoided his concerns, winking at him as you held your hand out again. “I’ve done this hundreds of times. We’ll be fine.”

With a sigh, he takes your hand and reasons with himself that the two of you sneaking into a graveyard after hours is not a major crime. Although, he could not help but worry about getting caught and charged with something like trespassing. He had just started his career as a cop, and the last thing he wanted to do was lose that. He shakes his head once he’s through the gates, letting go of your hand so that you can lead him through the depths of this place.

“So, you hang out here often?” He sheepishly asked, eyeing the number of old graves and mausoleums covering the vast land. You nodded, directing your gaze to one mausoleum in particular. You motion for him to follow you, Leon hissing at the sudden screech of a metal gate. It's rusted tight, but creaks open just enough for the two of you to slide in.

“Wait, what are you doing!?” Leon demands, watching wide-eyed as you hop on the old stone casket in the center of the place. His breath hitches as he catches sight of your black velvet skirt riding up your fishnet-covered thighs, your black and deep crimson undergarments on display for him. He blushes as he feels himself hardening in his boxer briefs, knowing precisely what you are hinting at.

“Come on, we should go.” He tried reasoning with you or instead with himself. He had felt somewhat jittery just being here.

“Oh, come on, Leon.” You teased, spreading out on top of the stone slab to put on a show for the man. “I’m not gonna do anything weird.”

“It’s just, look, I don’t feel comfortable getting it on around corpses.”

You scoff at him, motioning at the plaque engraved into the side of the stone coffin. “This one died in 1864, Leon.” You assured. “No rotting corpse, although it might be a skeleton.”

He raises a brow at you, questioning if you are insane. “Everyone wants to be with the goth baddie until she reveals her hobbies.” You joke. “You scared or something?” Leon shook his head in response, mustering up the courage to do this.

“If it makes you feel better, we could do it on the fl—”

“No—” Leon interrupts. “Fucking hell, we’re not even supposed to be here.”

“It’s only a crime if we get caught.” Evidently, you were not looking for a response, ushering Leon to come hither with a playful expression. Fuck it. He could not deny you; truthfully, he would try anything once. With pleading eyes, he makes haste to get out of his suffocating shirt and jacket. You were enticing to Leon at that moment, smirking as you watched the scene before you. He inched closer to you, planting his hips between your legs as your hands explored his bare skin, your sharp nails scratching down his back teasingly. You were taken aback, Leon initiating the first and rather feverish kiss you had shared. He pulls your lips to his, kissing you with both passion and lust. With quick hands, he hastily pulled at the sheer fabric of your fishnets. He pulled away from your intoxicating kiss, focusing on forcibly pulling both the skirt and leggings from your thighs. You quickly remove your jacket and lace top, working on removing the necklaces around your neck, but Leon’s hands stop you.

“Keep them on.” He begs, his lips trailing down the bare skin of your thighs. You watched breathlessly as the man kneeled, pausing his attempt to remove the clothing to eye your platform boots. His timid yet lustful gaze eyed them as if he was debating the act he was about to commit, and with a laugh, you urged him on. “Well?”

His stomach had butterflies, and his cheeks felt hot under your gaze as you watched approvingly as his lips met contact with your left boot, moaning when he felt your hands tug roughly at his hair. “Look at you.” You quietly uttered. “Such a good boy.” He felt as if his brain just short-circuited, his blue eyes keeping complete contact with your dominating gaze. “You like that?”

“Mhm.” He mumbled, leaving wet kisses from the sole to the rubbery leather as his hands fiddled with the buckles. He pulled it off your foot without issue, repeating the cycle with the other shoe before tugging off the skirt and fishnets to toss alongside the boots. He watched nervously as you pulled your hand away from his soft blonde locks to reach behind your back and unclip your bra, pulling it off your body. His breath hitched, blue eyes flickering from your face to your chest and then to your hands, which were busy pulling down your undies. He reached out, assisting you in pulling off the last undergarment from your body.

“You like what you see?” You questioned, your hands dipping down between your exposed thighs to tease your clit. “Want a taste?”

The last question came out as a moan, Leon’s words caught in his throat. He nodded with a groan, palming at his dick through his jeans. You noticed this, a breathy laugh leaving your lips at the sight. “You’re so fuckin’ hot. Get those pants off.”

You did not have to say that twice. Leon uttered a quiet compliance, shoving his pants and boxers down so they pooled at his knees. You eyed his dick lustfully, smirking at his neediness. You spread your legs further, welcoming the man to have a taste. Leon’s head dove down between your legs, his mouth exploring your cunt. A loud moan left your lips, both your hands returning to his head to tug harshly at his hair. Your thighs trembled as his tongue licked a long stripe up your cunt, his arms circling your thighs to hold them back. You had tried to control yourself, but Leon had seemed well-versed in this. When he got closer to that bundle of nerves, you bucked your hips to apply more pressure to the areas you needed attention from most. Blinking away the stars, you glanced down at him and moaned loudly as you watched him bob his head rhythmically, eating you out as if he were a starved animal having his first meal in a long time. The two of you found a comfortable pace at that moment, gasping as you watched Leon roughly stroke his dick to the rhythm.

“You’re so pretty like this.” You murmured. “Such a good boy.”

Leon moaned at the praise, burying his face deeper in you until you felt his nose swipe against your clit. You threw your head back in ecstasy, an uncontrollable and loud whimper falling from your lips. He repeated the motion just to hear that beautiful sound again, your climax slowly building as he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue.

“Fuck, Leon!” You cried out. You couldn’t control yourself, tightening your thighs as you pressed your cunt against him as you came, riding out your orgasm. He eagerly lapped up your release, causing you to jolt from the overstimulation. He eventually pulled away, drawing in a gasp for air before diving back in to kiss your inner thighs. He pulled away, standing up to press his lips against yours in a hungry battle for dominance. You giggle at his eagerness, placing several kisses on his cheeks before trailing your lips down to his neck and collarbone. Black lipstick stained his body, almost like you were marking him as your own.

“Worried about getting in trouble now?” You panted as he gently pulled you off the stone slab and spun you around, bending you over with his hand firmly pressed down on your upper back to keep you still. “FUCK!” You spat, feeling his cock pressed up against your backside, your fingers scrabbling at the rough concrete as you waited in anticipation.

“Fuckin’ shut up.” He moaned, jerking his cock as he readied himself. You squirmed under the man’s touch, biting your lip at his sudden confidence as he lined himself up and pressed into you.

“Hard.” You hissed. “D-don’t hold back.” Your voice breaks, a sob escaping your lips.

“You’re such a freak.” He whimpered, thrusting his hips at a fast pace to comply with your demands. You relax against the casket, pushing away the sweat-damp hair from your eyes. “Fuck just like that, baby.” The two of you dissolve into a litany of ragged whimpers and moans, Leon railing into you as hard as he can muster. His hands grip your waist, you biting your lip as he guides you on his cock. You had forgotten where exactly you were for a moment, your eyes slipping shut, focusing on trying to keep yourself somewhat silent. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He moans, his chest heaving.

You look back, panting as your second climax is begging for release. “Cum inside me.”

Your suggestion is all Leon needed to be pushed over the brink, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train as he snapped his hips into you roughly. He tossed his head back with a cry, you moaning as you climax once more. He rolls his hips until he feels spent, lazily pulling out with a sigh. The two of you shiver, glancing at each other with dazed smiles as the pair of you quickly gather up your clothes.

“I—I should get back to the club.” Leon bashfully spoke.

___

“I told you we wouldn’t get in trouble.”

You playfully nudge his arm, smiling down at him before intertwining your hand in his. He had to admit that, despite his previous concerns, he had a great time. Rounding another street corner, his smile fades as he sees the blinking sign of the club. You notice his expression falter, sadness tugging at your heartstrings. It seems the two of you did not want this night to end just yet, although you knew Leon’s friend would probably worry if he did not return.

“Ya know,” You trailed on as the man gazed at you. “There’s a music café right down the street. They sell lots of great music, and they make some mean pastries. We should go tomorrow.”

“Really?” He asked, his face heating up at the suggestion. “I mean. I would love that.”

“Great.” You smiled, the two of you stopping at the intricate double doors of the club entrance. “I don’t have a pen and paper, but could we meet here tomorrow at 1 p.m.?”

He nodded his head eagerly, causing you to giggle. Lovingly and without thinking, you lean down for a kiss. Pressing your lips to his for a passionate kiss before pulling away. His heart fluttered when you reached around your neck to unclasp the rosary he had been eyeing earlier that evening. “Something to remember me by until I see you tomorrow.” You reach out with a smile, clasping the necklace around his neck. “Goodbye, Leon.”

“See you tomorrow.” He watches you with butterflies in his stomach, shyly waving at you as you shoot him a wink before continuing your walk down the busy street. The loud slam of a door distracts him, causing the poor rookie to jump and whip around. He sighed when he saw Chris stumbling out of the bar, yelling the lyrics to a song he had not heard before. It takes a moment for the older man to recognize Leon, although he falters when he sees the younger man’s face.

“Did you have fun?” Chris questioned, drunkenly crossing his hands over his chest. “I mean, you got something on your face, uh—”

The younger man’s eyes widen, his hands scrubbing at his cheeks in the sudden realization that you had left black lipstick stains on him. “I—I can explain!” He exclaimed, only to be waved off by Chris.

“Yeah, yeah.” He groaned, holding his head at the sudden migraine he was getting. “Tell me tomorrow when I’m not shitfaced.”

Leon sighed in relief, clutching the rosary around his neck as he mentally hoped his friend would forget tonight's events. The two began their trek back to their respective apartments, the young rookie humming along to the song playing when he met you.

Loving you was like loving the dead

[nekropsii]

asking you this since you’re the only person who understands mituna in the entire fandom in my perception of the hs fandom

is it okay to headcanon mituna as autistic? sorry if you get this type of ask a lot/have already answered this type of ask

Instead of answering this question, I will give some food for thought: Mituna has a TBI. He has Brain Damage. This is a core element of his character. Probably the biggest one. In fact, it's so important to him that it's an injury that has remained with him in death. His TBI is a huge, huge part of what makes him... Well, him. It's why he's interesting.

So... Why is a need felt to also declare him as Autistic? Assuming this is a projection thing, since it tends to be most of the time - if you relate to him for his already canonical Neurodivergency, which is Brain Damage, why does one need to give him Autism as well?

Oftentimes when people headcanon him as Autistic, they tend to minimize or even outright erase his TBI. Oftentimes, people say he's Autistic as the reason he's canon Neurodivergent representation... Even though he's shown no real signs of it, but instead is fully written as a character with a Frontal Lobe Injury, and is constantly stated to have Brain Damage.

TBIs and other Neurodivergencies are often seen as less palatable than Autism. On Tumblr especially, it's far more "acceptable" to be Autistic or ADHD or headcanon a character as such than it is to have Brain Damage or literally any other Neurodivergency or acknowledge that a character is written with those. Autism and ADHD are seen as cute and relatable - even though they're very complex and at times devastating disabilities that do have the potential to seriously fuck up your livelihood, much like Depression and Anxiety, and I'm saying this as someone who has and struggles with all 4 - and are often used to erase the presence of other Neurodivergencies. Hell, it's to the point where people use "Neurodivergency" as a synonym for ADHD and Autism.

Again, I'm not going to answer this question for you. I think there's a way someone could potentially make the narrative of Mituna having Autism prior to the TBI compelling - the TBI has essentially stripped him of his ability to mask, after all, so one could make it be a situation where some of these symptoms are ones he already had, but is only just now really getting shit for because he's no longer able to hide it, and part of that tragedy is knowing that had he never been good at masking, his "friends" would have never accepted him. You could get some interesting questions about that. Was the repression worth it? Would it have been better if he'd just been himself the whole time? I think it's extremely valuable to ask yourself why you see any character as any specific minority - necessary, even - and how that affects not only the character's writing in its original text, but also your relationship with said character. Consider optics. Consider the way in which this character is meant to function in the source material. What purpose do they serve, and what is the driving force behind this character? Is Occam's Razor applicable? Are there other explanations as to why they are the way they are? Perhaps ones that are more succinct, and cover more ground?

Yesterday, I watched a film that has provoked a response in Tumblr that I think is applicable. I Saw The TV Glow. It's a film about a Trans Girl who never finds the strength to accept herself or come out. It's an incredibly gut-wrenching watch. It made me cry several times, and there are parts that made me feel a deep pain in my chest. I sat through 95% of the film with a pit in my stomach. I had to lay on the floor in the dark for a while after I finished. There's a scene where the main character is asked whether she likes girls or boys. She says she thinks she likes TV shows, and elaborates by saying that every time she tries to think about that kind of thing, it feels like someone's cutting her open and shoveling out her insides until there's nothing left. Not that there was anything in there to start with, of course - she says she knows there isn't, but she's too scared to look for herself and see.

That scene was about how Gender Dysphoria can completely disrupt your sexuality and repulse you from the thought of that level of connection with others, because it is, in essence, a deep disturbance with the nature of who you are as a person. Many people who are Asexual, or Aromantic, or both, related to that scene because it, on the surface, depicts discomfort with romance and sexuality. What they failed to understand by chalking it up to its own sexuality, is the fact that that scene wasn't depicting a Sex-Repulsed Asexual, or a Romance-Repulsed Aromantic, it was depicting a Trans Girl who is at such deep odds with herself and her identity that she cannot grapple with the concept of loving or being loved.

What, functionally, is the purpose of slapping an extraneous label onto a character that is meant to depict a certain thing? What is the purpose of assigning the label of "Autistic" to a character meant to depict the tragedy of a loss of support after gaining a disability, or "Aromantic" or "Asexual" to a character meant to depict a deep internal struggle with unresolved Gender Dysphoria?

Ask yourself these questions, and carry on from there. See where your mind takes you.

[uzuitengensfourthwife]

Home - Atsumu x reader (fem reader)

You dated in Highschool, but broke up after Atsumu lost against Karasuno. 6 years later, you meet again.

Warnings: bit angsty, otherwise none! Just fluff hihi.

Word-count: 2411

Author’s note: Well hi there! I’m back from the dead. So….. i haven’t written sth in a long time so I apologise in advance if it’s badly written or contains tons of mistakes! But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

---

Atsumu never made life easier for you. Back in Highschool, when you two dated, the girls always gave you dirty looks whenever Atsumu and you walked down the hall, hand in hand. But it only worsened over time. The longer you dated Atsumu, the worse his fangirls acted towards you. Insults were thrown at you, judging looks were shared whenever you walked past them and even shoving you out of the way whenever they felt like it.

What you regret most, was stopping with your hobby to become Inarizaki's manager, of course upon Atsumu's request. You were once a very talented ice skater, but due to your relationship with Atsumu, you had stopped.

But even though all of this had hurt you, you stayed for him. His love towards you was so pure, he made sure to let you know he loved you. He was never too busy to not see you, even if it meant he had to sneak out his house to meet you at your place late at night.

However, that changed as well after Inarizaki lost against Karasuno. The once long nights you spent together, were suddenly spent alone. The Atsumu that once made sure to squeeze you in whenever, was suddenly long gone. His ego was more than hurt after this match, you remember it so well. He pushed you away even weeks after that match, he barely saw you and during practice nothing more than a little kiss was placed on your cheek, followed by a half assed "Sorry, love".

And when summer came, you've had enough. You've spent months alone. So you've asked Atsumu to meet up with you in front of the Convenience store you've usually hung out in during late nights. Surprisingly, he agreed to meet you at 4 p.m.

You waited patiently, well aware of the fact that he'd be running late. 15 minutes later he then appeared, still in his gym clothes.

"Hey love, how ya doing?" he pulled you in a hug, squeezing you tightly. "I'm fine 'tsumu.., how bout you?" you hugged back, knowing well this would be your last hug. "Ya know, good als always." He smiled as he let go of you again. However, his smile faded upon seeing you nervously fiddling around with your hands. He raises an eyebrow. "What's wrong with ya? Yer nervous as hell."

You sigh loudly, trying to keep yourself from crying. "I.... I think we should break up." - "Yer not serious, right?" He's staring you down, his eyes clearly showing that he hoped for it to be just a silly joke. "I'm very serious Atsumu. I'm moving to Tokyo next week and you need to concentrate on your career anyway." He laughs out loud, he's not believing you one bit. "I've already talked about it with Kita and Suna. They're well aware of this." - " Tokyo or not, we'll still be able to date." You shake your head. God, you should've known this would happen. "No, Atsumu we can't." - " But we haven't even tried yet. How would ya know we wouldn't make it?" He said, his pleading eyes trying to read you. "We're done Atsumu Miya." And with that you turned away and just ran. You ran away from him and the fact you still loved him very dearly.

----

6 years. It had been 6 years since you've moved to Tokyo. You've only kept contact with Suna and Kita, both of them still texting you regularly. Suna himself even moved to Tokyo, after joining a Volleyball Club within Tokyo, which led to you both meeting up regularly.

Outside of meeting your friends in your free time, you were working. A well paid job within a law firm and a nice apartment, which was close to Shinjuku. You were leading quite the normal life.

Until Suna asked you to join him at a party on a random Friday.

"You free after work?"

"Yeah I am Rin, why?"

"There is a party in Shinjuku, wanna join?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes :) I'll pick you up at 8 p.m."

And with that, you knew you had no choice but to join Suna Rintarou to this party. You yourself weren't really into parties, however Suna always dragged you to go with him, since he didn't want to go alone.

So when you came back from work at 7 p.m. you took a quick shower and made sure you got ready by 8 p.m. And on 8 p.m. your doorbell rang, so you quickly grabbed your purse and ran to the door to open it. "Ready to go?" - " Good Evening to you too Rin, and yes, let me just put my shoes on!" you chuckle, grabbing your pretty black high heels. "I'm warning you, I'm NOT going to switch shoes with you again." - " Yeah yeah, don't worry. I'm not planing on staying for long anyway." He raises an eyebrow und holds your purse so you can put on your heels. Once you're finally ready, you take back your purse and both of you make your way towards the subway.

On the way to the club, both of you exchanged about your day. You exchanged some laughter and without really realizing, you had already arrived at the subway station. Within 10 minutes you had already made it to the doors of the club.

As you wanted to get in line, Suna grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the VIP entrance. And wishing seconds you were inside the club, marked as VIP guests with a wristband. "I keep forgetting you're quite the star within the Volleyball scene." He grins at you as the loud music surrounds you both. Without even telling you, he starts dragging you towards a lounge, solely reserved for VIP's. As you were let in, he starts looking around frantically.

You nudge him, letting him now you want to say something. He bends down, putting his ear towards your lips. "Looking for someone?" - "Yeah." he answers immediately. You thought it was just the two of you, however it turns out that he was dragging you to meet some friends of his with you.

Suna then seemed to have spotted the people he was looking for, which led to him dragging you towards a table with a few seats. They all greeted him with big grins. But before you could say anything, he pushed you forward, so you were able to see who was really sitting there. You greet them all kindly with a little bow, before your eyes met with dark brown eyes that you knew too well. Your smile immediately vanished.

It was none other than Atsumu Miya.

You froze in place, not really sure what to say. It has been 6 years since you've last seen Atsumu. This must've been some bad joke, you thought. Yes of course, Suna was trying to pull a mean joke on you, nothing else.

"You okay?" One of Suna's friends asked, pulling you back into the harsh reality. "Uh.. yeah!" You put on a forced smile, trying to hide behind Suna, but before you could do so, he disappeared to get all of you some drinks. Without any other choice left, you sit down as far away from Atsumu as possible. "I'm Bokuto!" One of Suna’s friends says. He was quite big and had a very well built body. His big eyes looked at you, while he flashed you a grin. "I'm Y/N." you answered, smiling slightly. The others also introduced themselves. So Sunas friends were called, Bokuto, Hinata, Kageyama and Wakatoshi, and turns out they were all part of the Japanese national teams.

"I'm Atsumu. 'Tsumu for short." Atsumu said, shooting you a quick but forced smile. He was pretending to not know you.

Before any of this could get more awkward, Suna appeared with some drinks for everyone. Everyone grabbed a drink and that's when the conversations started to strike. Since it was your first time meeting them, besides Atsumu, you just sat there quietly listening here and there.

"What do you do for work?" Wakatoshi suddenly asked, looking at you quietly. "I'm a Lawyer!" you answered , smiling proudly of your profession. "Woahhh! No way!" Bokuto exclaimed excitedly while slapping Suna's back harshly. You chuckle lightly at Suna's slightly annoyed face. Atsumu looked at you, slightly amazed.

The conversations continued and you kept listening to them all. You definitely enjoyed your time there. Yet, after some time you just needed to get a drink by yourself at the bar, but to still be polite you asked everyone if they wanted a drink at the bar as well. They refused, so you made your way to the bar and sat down on a stool to order a drink.

However, you were disturbed by a male presence next to you. It was a man that seemed quite drunk. "Hey there cutie..." He smirked, watching you up and down. You just shook your head and ignored him. Giving him attention would only fuel his ego. Yet, ignoring him was not enough. He leaned closer towards you. "Oh come on... don't ignore me princess..." He groaned, totally frustrated. Glaring at him, you got up to see if there was another seat possible, but he grabbed you by your wrist. "Let go." you said. "Beg." He grinned disgustingly. You were aware, that he had no good intention with you.

Before anything could happen, someone appeared behind you. The presence strong and dangerous. "She said let go." Atsumu's voice rang in your ear. The man instantly let go, mumbling something incoherent. You looked up at Atsumu, who was watching the man disappear amidst the people. "Ya should be careful, ya know?" He said, sitting down where the man sat before. He watched you quietly, before nodding towards the seat, indicating for you to sit down next to him. And so you did.

Atsumu ordered you both a drink. You decided to stay quiet, not sure how to even talk to him after all that happened between the two of you. On top of that, you never talked again after the break up.

"How have ya been?" He asked you, breaking the silence. "Been well... what about you?" Nodding at your question he answers "Can't complain, 'm part of the national team after all." - " Congrats, by the way." you said, smiling sincerely this time. "Thanks." he replies, handing you your drink. You take a sip, making a face as you taste the strong alcohol within the drink.

He chuckles lightly, observing you from the side. "M glad Suna made me come today." He suddenly said, looking at his drink. " It feels good knowing yer doing well." His words took you by surprise. You were expecting everything but this.

Atsumu slightly smiled to himself, while taking a sip from his drink. "Atsumu..." - " I've thought of ya every day... just wishing ya would be doing well." He turns back to you with a big grin. " Ya should be thanking me!" This was all an act. You've known him long enough to know that something inside of him hurt.

"How 'bout we get some fresh air?"

And suddenly you both were sat outside, barely covered up in midst of the cold autumn night. You tried to warm yourself up by rubbing your arms, but it barely helped. "Here." He said, while wrapping his Jacket around you. "No, you'll be cold yourself." You say, taking off his jacket, but he immediately reacted wrapping it around you again. "Such a gentleman." you chuckle, wrapping his jacket around you tighter.

Like. every other night, Shinjuku was lively. Lots of people were walking past you, enjoying the night for the time being. You watched the people passing by, while holding on to Atsumu's jacket. "You've really become even prettier." You turn your head to him with flushed cheeks, you weren't sure whether it was because of the cold air or him.

"I.... I'm sorry for what happened 'Tsumu." You said quietly, looking at the ground. You were ashamed at how everything ended back then. "Don't apologize. It was my fault... I.. I was an asshole." He stuttered. "I shouldn't have pushed you away. I was just.... broken I suppose." - " I know Atsumu..." You whispered, sliding closer to him. "I was an asshole too. I should've tried to talk to you before even making such a harsh decision."

He shakes his head. "No..it was best for ya. See how successful you've become without me?" - "I would've been happier if you were with me." You didn't even mutter. It was the truth after all. Yes, you were successful but you were more than sure that you would have been happier on this journey if he would have been part of your life. But you had cut him out of it, out of stupidity.

He looked at you surprised. You knew he didn't expect an answer like this from you. But it was the harsh truth, even to you. "I never stopped loving you Atsumu. I was just... scared. Scared you'd leave me if I had said anything. I was scared of conflict." His eyes widened in shock while you tried to stop yourself from crying. It didn't work. Suddenly tears streamed down your face.

Atsumu immediately pulled you into a hug. "God no.... I would've never left ya love...!" He whispered while pulling you closer. You've never felt better before, it felt like you were home again. You've found your home within Atsumu again.

"I... I still love ya... and never stopped loving ya while ya were gone.. Ask 'Samu, he's heard all about it.. " he joked, laughing slightly while rubbing your back in a calming manner. A chuckle escape your lips.

You felt inner peace, as if you've been lost for an eternity and then finally finding back home. Your home was Atsumu and nothing else mattered to you at the moment.

You pulled away slightly, looking up at him. His cheeks were red and before you could make a funny remark, he placed a sweet but quick kiss on your lips.

"I see you two lovebirds have made up, hmm?" Suna was leaning against a wall, watching them with a big smirk on his face. "Oh shut up Rintarou!"

You were more than thankful that Rintarou dragged you here, if he hadn't, you wouldn't have found your home again.

[firstkanaphans]

Hi Sarah! If it inspires you, please write Yakdee making good on "please moan even louder this time" when they get together for real. No pressure though 😊 thank you always for being a gem 🏵

This is my first time writing YakDee and I'm not quite sure I did them justice, but I hope you like it anyway! 💜💛 Rating: Mature Word Count: 1200ish

Although Dee liked to pretend otherwise, he had been inexperienced the first time he had sex with Yak. He hadn’t been nervous, though. The alcohol had taken care of that. Yak was a stranger. A body. And by the time he became more, Dee had had time to erect walls to protect himself. He didn’t kiss Yak on the lips because it was too intimate and he wore costumes so that despite their proximity, Yak never truly saw the real him—never saw the monster that lived inside.

But now, the tiger ears had been thrown away, Yak was kissing him on the lips, and there were no walls left to hide behind. Dee was truly free for the first time in his life and although being himself with someone he loved felt more exhilarating than he ever could have imagined, that freedom had come with a price. He was nervous now, in a way he never had been before, because suddenly, he had something to lose.

Someone to lose.

Yak had Dee splayed out on his own bed, the neon “Less Expectations, More Satisfaction” sign buzzing ominously above them, and although they’d been here a hundred times before, doing things far dirtier than this, they had never done them with their lips pressed against each other. Yak kissed the same way that he boxed: overeager but competent with the stamina of an athlete. Whereas only the night before, Dee had known where to touch him, known what to say, now he was unsure. He had no idea what he was supposed to do next.

Maybe Ter had been right all along. Maybe he was too vanilla.

Luckily for him, Yak didn’t seem to have any such qualms. He easily took the lead, breaking their kiss with some reluctance and instead dancing his lips slowly down Dee’s neck, down his chest, until he was hovering seductively right above his cock, maintaining eye contact the whole time. 

“May I?” he asked with a smirk. Dee was incapable of forming words. He just waved him on and collapsed down onto the bed as Yak took him into his mouth. He bit his lip to keep from making noise, suddenly shy despite how vocal Yak had always been about liking it. It was just that he no longer knew what this meant. Or maybe he did. And maybe that scared him.

Yak seemed to take his silence as a challenge. He opened his throat and swallowed Dee all the way down and although Dee’s body reacted the way it usually did, more than eager, he couldn’t shut his mind off. He had never had sex that meant something before and this…this felt like it meant something. What if he wasn’t good enough? What if Yak got bored? What if, now that they were officially together, Yak lost interest?

What if Ter was right?

Although Dee didn’t dare voice any of this aloud, Yak must have sensed that something was wrong because he pulled off of Dee’s cock with an audible pop.

“Mor,” he drawled, his tone scolding. “I want to hear you.”

Dee rolled his eyes and, without thinking, moaned comically loud, “Oh, Yak!”

Immediately, he regretted the immature outburst, but Yak’s eyes lit up. “Yes,” he said, moving back towards Dee’s cock. “Just like that.” And then he took Dee into his mouth once more. 

The interruption managed to break whatever spell Dee had found himself under. This time, when the warm, wet heat of Yak’s mouth touched his cock, he let out a deep, guttural moan. It wasn’t even a little bit fake.

He felt Yak smile around his cock and, as if spurred on by the noise, speed up his efforts, which made Dee moan louder. He thrust up into Yak’s mouth, tangled his fingers into his hair, and finally gave into the sensations. It was a familiar game for them. Dee liked falling apart under Yak’s tongue and Yak liked hearing him do so. Dee never made more noise than what was earned, but Yak was a generous lover and it wasn’t difficult to elicit noise from Dee at baseline. He had never quite learned how to be quiet. So as Yak did some of his best work, Dee rewarded him for it by freely expressing his pleasure aloud.

It was a relief, in a way, to know that this, at least, hadn’t changed. That the same things Yak had liked about him before, he liked about him still. That although there were things about each other they still had to learn, this wasn’t one of them.

Yak swallowed him all the way down and Dee’s orgasm snuck up on him so suddenly that he almost screamed, bucking off of the bed, and coming in Yak’s mouth with a choked off whimper. For several seconds afterward, he just lay there, thoroughly satisfied as he worked to catch his breath. He watched as Yak pulled off of his cock and used his thumb to clean a few stray drops of Dee’s come from his lips. He was smirking, looking very pleased with himself, and Dee had to admit that he was pleased with him, too.

He made grabby hands towards his new boyfriend and Yak smiled and leaned in to kiss him on the lips once more. He did it as if it came naturally to him—and maybe it did. Dee was still getting used to it, but what he did know was that the taste of himself on Yak’s tongue was more addicting than any drug. 

“Was I loud enough for you?” he teased, forming the words lazily against Yak’s lips.

“Could’ve been louder,” Yak said with a shrug. Dee smacked him and Yak burst out laughing before leaning in to place a smattering of kisses all over his face. Yak hadn’t come yet himself, but that didn’t seem to bother him. He looked happy just to be in Dee’s presence. It was humbling. It was intoxicating. 

“Hey, Yak?” Dee asked, unable to rein in his curiosity. “Would you still like me even if I was vanilla?”

“You’re not vanilla.”

“But one day, you might get so used to the taste that I might be.” He tried to make it sound like a joke, but he wasn’t quite sure he’d succeeded. When he’d slept with Yak the first time, it was supposed to be temporary. Yak lived such a full, interesting life. He was a professional athlete. He could have anyone he wanted. Why would he ever want Dee?

But before Dee had even finished speaking, Yak shook his head. “My favorite ice cream flavor’s been vanilla for twenty-four years and counting. I'm never going to get tired of the taste. You have nothing to worry about.”

This pleased Dee. He motioned Yak closer. “Kiss me again,” he whispered against Yak’s lips. “I’ll be louder this time.”

Yak smiled, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “As you wish.”

[mattybsgroupie]

ex’s and tattoos | matt sturniolo

contents: cursing; fighting; (kinda) toxic relationship; oral (m receiving); fingering (f receiving); use of “y/n”; switch!matt

- ♡ -

notes: 400 million followers but been flopping these last weeks do you guys hate me or what??? lol jk, as usual thank you so much for the love and special thanks to my loyal readers (@thepubeburgler my girl!) i always keep an eye on you guys <3 sorry for not being as active here but now im in my break so every week new story! as usual not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes, hope you enjoy this one!!!

- ♡ -

it had been two and a half weeks since matt and i broke up. for the third time.

i had no reason to be there other than respect for matts and i mutual friends. they knew, of course, we were no longer together - but that didn’t mean we could be at the same place, acting like civilized adults.

i rested my lower back against the countertop, quietly sipping the drink in my hand as i nodded to the ones that’d greet me.

i noticed him from miles away. the familiar laugh made my stomach flutter while i watched him from a distance, hoping he wouldn’t notice me there. i didn’t have the energy to fight him, nor work things out.

he, however, felt as my eyes pierced through his back and soon looked at me, blue eyes scanning my body before locking his orbs to my own.

“having fun?” matt asked, coming in my direction and mimicking my position.

“always a blast” i responded, not daring to move one bit.

“enjoying the guys checking you out?” he teased, trying to piss me off. “not one of them is gonna hit on you. they know you’re mine, y/n”.

“you must enjoy making my life way harder than it should be don’t you, matt?”

“it’s my favorite thing to do” he giggled, sincerely this time. i could tell the difference without even looking at him. “you know what else is hard? me”

“that’s not my problem. you should ask if some girl is willing to jack off this tiny dick of yours” i rolled my eyes, moving to face him.

“yeah? same dick that fucked you dumb… how many times?” matt whispered in my ear, leaning closer to my face. the warmth of his body made me feel safe again, the usual feeling of being around matt slowly taking over me. i had to get myself together before speaking up again, “i have no idea what you’re talking about”.

“now you don’t?” he leaned against the countertop once again, crossing his arms as he tilted his head. “i must have forgotten how stupid you are”

“i must be if im still talking to you”

“yeah y/n, keep on talking like this and we’re gonna have another problem other than fixing what happened” matt said, traveling his eyes through my body before landing back at his pants, bulge tenting under the jeans.

“oh, i couldn’t care less about this” i said, clearly referring to his cock when, in fact, i was dying to jerk him off right there.

“do you really wanna have this conversation now?” he misunderstood, thinking i was talking about whatever our relationship meant at this point.

“i never wanted to talked to you in the first place” my hands gave up on holding the plastic cup, putting it away before resting my palm on his shoulder. i trailed down his neck, stopping by the sweater strings and playing with them. “you’re the one who came here.”

“cant help it when you look this good, mamas” he confessed, breathing heavily as his chest gradually filled in more air.

“oh fuck you matthew” it was a low blow. i knew he was gonna try to get me back tonight, and i also knew i would give in anytime he asked me to.

“you’d love that wouldn’t you?” i had to walk away, leaving a giggling matt behind who soon took my cup and drank from it before going back to his friends.

- ♡ -

nothing was fun without him. i tried my best to have a good time and distract myself from the growing heat inside my panties, but knowing matt was around, checking every movement of mine was starting to drive my crazy. i told my friends i’d leave, thanked them for the invitation and quickly made my way to the bathroom to wash my hands and check my makeup and hair before calling an uber.

i heard three knocks on the door. “it’s open” i said allowing anyone to come in because i wasn’t really doing anything private. it slowly opened, revealing a smiling matt coming inside.

“before you say anything” he started. “check this out!” matt said, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up, sweater nowhere to be found. he had a new tattoo on his shoulder, showing a sunflower garden painted across his skin.

“it’s really pretty, matt” i smiled.

“it’s for you” i rolled my eyes and looked away, not believing any of his words before resting my back against the sink. “look at me” he called, and my body instantly reacted by doing what he told me to. we kept starring at each other for a few seconds, not really sure of what to say.

“can i kiss you?” matt finally asked, leaning over me and holding my face with both hands as i nodded frantically. he could do whatever he wanted with me.

his lips touched mine and my stomach dropped, as if it was the first time we’d kissed. i was incredibly sensitive to matt’s touch, my breath getting heavier as he deepened the kiss. one of his hands traveled down my body, stopping by my waist and holding it tightly while his thumb caressed my cheek.

matt licked my lower lip, silently asking if he could go further. i opened my mouth and allowed his tongue to slide in, the lewd sounds getting louder. i moved my hand to the back of his head, groping his hair strongly before pulling away in order to get some air back. “fuck, matt” i whispered, not being able to take my eyes of his swollen pout.

now i was the one who took control of the situation, pushing him against the wall of the tiny bathroom and and trailing kisses all the way down his neck, making sure i’d leave marks for him to see the next morning. matt whined as i positioned myself between his legs, letting him joint his hips forward. i could feel matt’s bulge rutting against me, hard cock begging to be touched.

“you… you look so good today” he breathed out, hands moving to my ass, bringing our bodies even closer, almost humping each other.

i was dripping wet.

as i kept on kissing him, my fingers quickly made their way to his waistband, receiving a gasp from matt. i smiled before palming him through his jeans, grabbing his cock and he responded by placing his hands on my breasts, massaging it over my clothes. i unintentionally let a moan escape when his thumb brushed over my nipples, matt’s eyes finally opening.

he placed his palm under my shirt, pressuring against my skin. i nodded once again, letting him remove my outfit and expose my underwear. “who’s that pretty lingerie for?” he asked before moving his lips to my shoulders, slowly making his way to my boobs.

“no one” i answered, fingers tangling in his brown locks. matt giggled, muffling against my skin. “good thing i’m the one taking it off” he said, quickly untying my bra and making my breasts fall over his face. matt licked my hardened nub, swirling his tongue around before sucking it. i whined as his index and thumb pinched my other nipple.

“i fucking- hate you!” i complained, pretending not to enjoy when he was rough. matt slapped the boob he was pinching before, free hand moving to my jaw and holding it tightly, making me look at him.

“already know that babe, but you love my fingers don’t you?” he teased and i slightly opened my mouth, letting him place his digits on my tongue. i wrapped my lips around them and started to suck hungrily, putting on a show for him. matt’s grin grew bigger, and so did the tent on his pants. poor thing, holding himself to not bend me over and fuck me without asking, knowing he’d be punished when doing something without permission.

“take this off for me hm?” matt whispered, already removing my shorts. i didn’t notice he had pulled my panties down as well, goosebumps taking over my body as i felt his fingers brush against my lower lips.

“open up” he said moving our bodies further, picking me up by my waist and making me sit on the sink’s counter, the cold material in contrast with my heat making me gasp.

i opened my legs and wrapped my arms around matt's neck, resting in each side of his shoulder as he kept running his fingers through my folds. his thumb soon met my swollen clit, circling over it before moving to my entrance. he teased me a bit, letting the tip of his digits rest in my wet hole. my shaky breathes turned to whimpers as he slid in, making me bite my own lips to cover my moans.

“you’re all tight” matt said as he pushed it inside, stretching my cunt. after three weeks without him, of course i was tight again. his fingers used to fit me so well, but now it felt like the first time again. the burning sensation of my walls clenching against matt's hand made me throw my head back, not being able to speak as he kept on rubbing my clit, trying to slid a second finger in.

“haven’t found anyone to fuck you as good as i do?” he asked, noticing my struggle. “tell me who fucks you the best?”

“you matt- fuck!” i whined while matt kissed my neck, finally pushing his index and filling me up completely.

“and you take me so well don’t you? how many fingers do i have to put in until you get used back to the size of my cock?” each word that came out his mouth made me throb, feeling my orgasm approaching when his fingers curled inside of me. i'd tell matt to shut up, but i wanted - i needed - him more than ever.

“wanna cum” i cried, loud moans taking over the the place “matthew babe, fuck, please”.

“when did i ever made you beg?” he giggled at my desperation, pounding deeper into me. “show me how much you missed me, princess... need to see you coming to me” he pleaded and soon my orgasm crashed down on me, making me arch my back and wrap his waist with my trembeling legs. i sinked my teeth in his exposed skin, trying to not make a sound as i leaked onto matt's fingers.

i opened my eyes as i came back to my senses, my forehead resting on matt's shoulder while he carressed my back. when he kissed the top of my head, i realized he was about to burst on his pants. he did me so good and i knew he missed me as well, so i quickly moved my hands to his belt and unzipped his jeans.

“oh- you’re taking care of me?” his eyes widened as we exchanged positions and i kneeled on the floor, not expecting to get any reward today.

i pulled his underwear down, finally freeing his aching cock. i wrapped my hand around his shaft, pumping him quickly and spreading his pre cum downards. matt groaned when i licked his tip, tilting his head back, “fuck y/n your mouth is so fucking g-good”.

my lips swalloed his tip, his dick twitching my hand as i lowered myself on his length “please, please don’t tease” he begged.

his left hand went to my hair, bobbing my head up and down, trying to fasten my pace.

“shit ma, i’m not gonna last long” matt whined, bucking his hips forward in order to get more friction as i lazily dragged my tongue through his cock. “gonna c-cum” he warned, not really trying to stop himself. his legs struggled to keep standing, heavy breathing turned to whimpers as he finally released, sticky spurt filling my mouth.

“why are you so good?” he asked jokingly, coming from his high. he pulled out after realizing i couldn’t speak while still blowing him off, giggling as i got up and nestled myself on his chest.

“here” he said, putting his hand under my chin. “you don’t have to swallow this” matt smiled, letting me spit his load on his palm. after doing so, i licked again, swallowing both his cum and my spit. “fuck, you’re so hot”.

i wasn’t sure what had just happened and what we would do afterwards. however, i giggled as i rolled my eyes, realizing i’d love him no matter how many times we’d break up.

“next thing i’m getting tattooed is your name” matt said, helping me put my bra and fix my hair.

“fuck, you’re not” i said in disbelief, giving him a peck on the lips before opening the door.

“you don’t get a saying on that, sweetheart” he answered, zipping his pants up and following me outside. “so, wanna a ride home?”

- ♡ -

[smoshyourheadin]

Spencer friends to lovers????

let’s give it a shot

pairing: spencer agnew x f!reader

a/n: guys i love spencer sm!!!! ugh. this is a short one bc i have a few requests i’m getting through rn, hence why my requests are currently closed for a lil bit! they’ll br open once i finish all my current requests (i have about 20?) buttt feel free to keep ur ideas ready for when they’re back open!! okay thankyou all ily 🫶

spencer glanced up from behind the camera, catching sight of you across the games studio. you were engrossed in your work, a small smile playing on your lips as you edited a video. spencer couldn't help but admire your dedication and the way your eyes lit up when you laughed.

you had started at smosh around the same time, instantly bonding over obviously your job, but the fact you both loved cooking mama, oddly enough. over the years, you had become close friends, your chemistry evident both on and off camera.

today was no different. as the evening wore on, the studio emptied out until it was just the two of you. spencer stretched and walked over to you, leaning against your desk.

"hey, need a break?" he asked, smiling down at you.

you looked up, eyes sparkling with amusement. "only if it involves snacks."

spencer laughed. "I thought you'd never ask."

you headed to the kitchen, where spencer rummaged through the snack drawer. he handed you your favorite candy bar, your fingers brushing briefly. a spark of something more than friendship passed between them, but neither said a word.

this was a common theme as of recently, you’d find yourself staring at spencer, or he’s hug you for just a little longer than normal, just small things. you knew deep down that you couldn’t risk ruining what you had with him because he meant so much to you, but you would dream of one day living with him, his stuff on the countertops with yours. you’d cook for him, and he’d clean. all you wanted, was him.

"thanks," you said softly, unwrapping the candy bar. "y’always know what i need."

he shrugged in response, trying to play it cool. "it’s my superpower."

you smiled at his dorky reply, and sat down at a small table, chatting and laughing as you always did. but tonight, there was an undercurrent of something different, a tension that neither could ignore.

"so," spencer began hesitantly, "i’ve been thinking… but like- dont feel pressured obviously- but, we spend so much time together, and i feel like there's something more here,” his breath hitched as he looked you in the eyes. “what if we tried being more than friends?"

you eyes widened in surprise, cheeks flushing. "spence, i, i’ve been feeling the same way. i was just afraid to say anything and risk what we have."

spencer reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "i don't want to lose our friendship either. but I also don't want to miss out on something that could be amazing."

you squeezed his hand, smile widening. "okay, well, let’s give it a shot then. see where this goes."

from that moment on, your bond grew even stronger. you continued to create together, the newfound love for eachother adding a deeper layer to their already incredible partnership. and every time he looked at you, he knew he had found something truly special. his best friend.

[wanderingsoul6261]

Gif credit goes to userbeaufort

IM SORRY-PART 2

Part 1 below

James Beaufort x Reader

I'm sorry! I meant to have this out sooner, but I got distracted. My anxiety had been an ass this week so just bear with me. I do have more fics with James to write, so do still continue to expect more!

Synopsis: part 2 to I'm Sorry. Reader talks to Lydia and apologizes to James for her actions.

Warnings: nothing other than a few swear words. Mostly the f- word

------

It had been weeks since Y/N had left James standing where she left him after they kissed underneath Maxton Hall. She had avoided him as if he had the plague and was going to get her sick. She had even gone as far as even being more distant with Lydia, and that hurt her much more than avoiding James. 

The few times she had brushed Lydia off had left her friend looking hurt and confused, wondering to herself what she could have possibly done to warrant Y/N's behavior towards her. It took Y/N all but a week before she came to her senses and apologized to Lydia, but when Lydia asked what happened and why she did it, she couldn’t explain. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, because she did, as it was all tearing her inside out, but she just didn’t know how to go about it. She wasn't sure if Lydia would hate her afterwards for kissing her brother. Y/N knew she could always confide in Lydia, and Lydia has made that plenty clear. However, with something like this, Y/N wasn't quite so sure as to how her friend would react. 

Did Y/N love James? Absolutely. Did she regret the kiss? No, absolutely not. If anything, she had enjoyed it and had hoped it had continued even longer than it had. She had actually thought about the kiss alot. And even if no words were spoken in the moment that James and Y/N had kissed, she knew that every single bit of feeling and emotions she had for James was poured into that kiss, and a part of her told her that it was likely the same for James. There was no way he didn't feel the same way as her, and yet, here she was, treating him as if she never met or knew him. Which also hurt her more than another could imagine, and yet she still continued to do it. 

Y/N continued to avoid James in the hall. She avoided eye contact and any and all other contact he had attempted to make. He sent text messages and made phone calls, leaving voice messages when she wouldn't answer. He had made attempts to stop her in the hallway to talk to her in which she had brushed off and walked away from him. Every single time he had stood in place, while many other students watched, wondering what to do, his heart breaking more and more each time. This went on for several weeks. 

And then he stopped, and it was like a switch had been flipped. 

James had turned cold towards her, reverting back to the way he was before he had started to like her, before he had fallen in love with her and had vowed to do anything and everything for her. Before she had become what his world revolved around. 

Y/N took notice, and she had undoubtedly and rightfully so, hated herself for it. James didn't deserve the treatment he had received from her. She should have confessed to Lydia about what had happened between her and James. 

He gave her the same treatment that she had been giving him and she couldn't even be mad or upset. It was her fault. 

James scowled at her, made remarks about her lack of money and everything she wouldn't ever have because of the lack thereof, and anything else that he knew would hit their mark. The angered and hurt looks he had given her could level an entire room, an earthquake that could cause so much devastation, but yet, the destruction was only centered on one single person. 

Her. 

He had acted like an asshole towards her and Y/N would be the first to admit that she deserved every last moment of it. She had evidently broken his heart, and now he was making her pay for it. 

The only person that didn't agree with anything Y/N received from James, was Lydia. It had often led to heavy and loud arguments between the twins, causing tension between the close siblings, but yet, Lydia still didn’t know what happened to make the two behave in the ways that they were. It was a mystery, and it was one that she had so desperately wanted to solve.

—-

“What happened?” Lydia asked. “Are you ever going to tell me?” Y/N was sitting a bench, a book in her hands when Lydia walked up to her. She spared a glance at her friend, growing nervous once again at the question Lydia was once again pestering her with. 

“What do you mean?” Y/N took the stupid route, her eyes back on the book. But she wasn't reading it. She couldn’t focus on it, her eyes reading the same paragraph over and over as she never fully grasped the content of it. It didn't matter that she read the words in her mind. Lydia also knew this, mostly at the fact that not once did Y/N turn the page. 

She was stuck on that page, meaning Lydia had gotten the cogs in Y/N's brain working and thinking about what had happened between her and James. Now if only she would talk to her about it. 

“You know what I mean, Y/N. You and James. One day you guys are talking and hanging out like you’ve known each other since childbirth, and the next day, you are treating each other like you’re puppy was kicked! ” Lydia made a daring move, hoping her friend would forgive her, and snatched the book out of her hand. Y/N didn't do anything though. She sat there, defeat showing in her posture. Y/N only knew that Lydia would continue to ask her what happened, which had meant that James never told her, not that he probably wanted to, and Y/N didn’t blame him. She broke his heart and made a fool out of him. It was best she finally said something, no matter if James would be mad at her or not. Y/N was tired of leaving her friend in the dark, and she was sure that Lydia was tired of being in the dark. 

Y/N picked at her fingernails, a sigh escaping her lips as her eyes flickered over the tiniest imperfections in the ground. Little divots from where the ground had been worn away. A bug scittering across the ground. Grass peeking up through the cracks. 

Lydia sat down next to her and Y/N still refused to make eye contact. Lydia put her book back into Y/N's hands, in order to keep her hands occupied and stop her from picking at her fingers. It was a nervous habit of Y/N’s that Lydia had picked up on not too long after they had become friends. 

“James' actions are warranted.” Lydia scoffed. 

“I highly doubt-”

“We kissed the night of the donation gala and then I left him standing underneath the hall and have been avoiding him ever since.” Y/N cut her friend off, still avoiding eye contact with her. Lydia went silent. 

Was this it? Did Lydia hate her now for what she did to her brother? Is this the end of their friendship? Y/N had turned slightly away from Lydia, ashamed of herself and what she had done. She truly hated herself for this. 

“Why?” The question had quite honestly caught Y/N off guard. She didn’t expect it. If anything, she had almost expected Lydia to leave her right then and there and understand why James was treating her in the way that he had been. 

Y/N sat in silence. She loved James, so it wasn’t as if she had not liked him or regretted the kiss. If anything, she knew that if she didn’t want to kiss him, James wouldn’t have done it. They both wanted to kiss each other, that much was true.

“I was scared. Terrified. Petrified. Any other synonyms of ‘scared’.” Y/N finally turned to look at her friend. Lydia was staying. She wasn’t going anywhere and Y/N had used this to soothe her worries. “You’re my friend, Lydia. He is your brother. I thought if you found out we did anything, no matter what it was, that you’d hate us. You’d hate me. Or maybe you would see it as something that would get in the way of me and you.” Y/N went over every single reason why she was scared. Anyone else probably would have told her to stop and tell her that it was okay and that they wouldn't have thought of anything in the way that she was. Lydia did do that, don’t get that part wrong, but she listened fully to what Y/N had to say. She wanted to understand Y/N and her thoughts so that she could better understand why she did what she did. When Y/N was finished, the two sat in silence and Y/N thought that maybe Lydia would take her chance to leave now. 

But she didn’t. She stayed, and after a few minutes of silence, she spoke. 

“I wouldn’t have hated you. If anything, I was wondering when it would happen. You guys looked at each other the way a young child looks at a puppy.” Y/N smiled at the poor analogy. She looked down at the book in her hands. Her smile turned into a frown. 

She got thinking about James and about how he might have felt, and she felt completely and utterly disgusted with herself. 

“How was James?” she asked, but she already knew the answer. 

“Honestly?” Lydia asked. They both knew that once Y/N heard what she had to say, it would only make Her feel even worse than she already did. Y/N nodded. 

“He didn't sleep or eat a lot. Often found him up pretty late. James was hurt, really hurt. I tried getting him to talked to me-” Y/N started to drown out Lydia. Not because she didn't want to listen, but because she went back to thinking about James. She wanted to, no, she needed to fix this. Y/N had to make this right with James. 

Y/N stood up abruptly. She hurried off to find James. 

She looked everywhere she could think of, Starting with the places where she knew for a fact that he would possibly be. Which was probably half a dozen places and so she had spent a good half hour trying to find him. 

Y/N was growing restless. She hoped that he didn't go home yet, but if he did, Y/N knew that she could always just text or call him. However, the likelihood of him even answering was slim to none, and she didn't blame him. 

But she found him, and kicked herself in the ass for not checking the lacrosse field sooner, because there he was, in all his James Beaufort glory, practicing with Alistair, Cyril, and the others. 

It definitely wasn't long before someone noticed her, and pointed her out to James. He had turned around, his eyes peering out from behind his helmet, the headwear masking any emotions that might have been present on his face. 

He had watched as she stood on the sidelines. Waiting. Watching. She nervously picked her fingernails, her eyes looking Slightly red from a distance, as if she had been crying, which she had been. 

After leaving Lydia to find James, tears flowed down her cheeks, as thoughts ran a hundred miles per hour in her mind. Memories, good and bad between the two of them, know how hurt James had bad, her guilt, and so much more. She was drowning in it all, barely breathing as James finally started to walk towards her. He pulled his helmet off, tossing it to the ground with his gloves once he was a few feet away from her. And as she watched him, he didn't look too pleased.

When he finally came to a stop in front of her, he opened his mouth to say something, but Y/N beat him to it. 

“I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I shouldn't have left you beneath the hall. It was a stupid thing for me to do because I like you but I was scared because I'm friends with Lydia-” She took a deep breath, her voice cracking as she continue to nervously pick at her fingers. “- and I wasn't sure if She would be happy if she found out we kissed. I shouldn't have treated you the way that I have been.” James listened as she rambled. A part of him couldn't be mad at her. Yea, he had hurt at her avoidance, always asking why she did what she did, and a part of him told him to continue to stay mad at her, but as he watched her now, nervous, guilt, her own form of hurting, he couldn't bring himself to do so. 

So he did the next best thing he could think of. 

He grabbed her hands to stop the picking, before she did it to the point where she drew blood. Then he pulled her close, his lips slamming against hers, shutting her up. She let out a surprised gasp as whistles and whoops and hollers could be heard behind them. 

Y/N leaned into the kiss, tasting the saltiness of her tears and when the two finally pulled away, James wiped away said tears. He searched her eyes, kissed her forehead, and then pulled her into a hug. 

“I get it.” He whispered. “It hurt, but I get it.” James pulled back to look into her eyes again. 

“It wasn't fair to you. And I feel guilty that I caused you to hurt because I was the stupid one.” 

“I don't blame you for your actions because of your emotions. You realized you’re mistake. We can put it behind us.” He said. His hands came up to her face, cupping her cheeks, and she leaned into him.

“How can you still love me after all of this?” She asked. 

James gave her a soft smile. 

“Oh sweetheart.” he pressed another soft and gentle kiss to her lips, one of his hands falling from her cheek to her waist, pulling her against him. When he pulled away from her again, so that their lips were barely brushing against each other, He whispered. “I never stopped loving you.” 

----

taglist: @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @sillyfreakfanparty

[nblemons]

Tell us about your idea!!

AWAAAGHHG ok so. This is a Somewhat Rough Concept and the characters have no name atm but it goes something like (this ended up way longer than i meant for it to be oops):

The protagonist is a witch, from a famous family known for their very powerful sea magic. In this world, witches come of age around age 14 with a very important ceremony where they get to summon a familiar, with which they will form a very strong bond that helps them focus their magic and control it more easily. This ceremony is also the first step of the Big Important Journey all witches must go on to learn new magic and find their place in the world.

Our witch (whom ill just call Witch for now) is unfortunately a very anxious type and struggles a lot with harnessing her magic. She's unfortunately already failed her summoning ceremony a few times, which means that shes Very Late!! to her magic journey. And coming from such a prestigious family only puts more pressure on her, which messes with the already very weak control she has over her magic.

A few days before the newest attempt at her familiar ceremony, she meets a seagull who claims to be a human who was turned into a bird by a vengeful sea spirit and, having realized that she's a witch, begs for her help in breaking the curse. Witch, tender hearted as she is, wants to help! But, as she explains, curse breaking is advanced magic she can't study yet, as she doesn't have a familiar and is thus not allowed access to the parts of her family's library that would contain information about it.

After Witch finishes explaining her struggles with the ceremony as well, Seagull (placeholder name too)offers a solution: to simply fake a successful summoning, giving the witch access to the information needed to help Seagull, who would in turn help her find a real familiar later on. Witch accepts despite her worries because she's desperate to get this ceremony thing over with and also is kind of a doormat and easily convinced.

Alas, the day of the ceremony Something goes wrong and leads to them being well and truly bonded as master and familiar, with magic so strong and ancient it's generally believed to be impossible to break! And, to Witch's surprise, it turns out that Seagull is not, in fact, a human who was cursed, but rather a sea wind spirit who pissed off a much much stronger spirit and got herself stuck in bird form with no magic.

Seagull is incredibly pissed to be stuck with this doormat of a witch, because her plan was to get into the library, find information on how to break the curse and then ditch the idiot. And instead, here they are, stuck together. But! there is a silver lining: they figure out that through the link, Seagull can use Witch as a sort of battery pack and get access to a fraction of her powers.

They scour the massive library Witch's family owns, and find little to no information about how to break either the curse or the familiar bond, with just a few hints about some Myserious witch who was banished for figuring out how to break their own bond. With that being their only clue, our duo decides to embark on the previously mentioned Big Journey and look for more information.

And so start the adventures of the world's most cringefail sea witch and her mean bossy seagull familiar!

I picture this as like. a cute little adventure game where you have a boat and go from island to island, learning new magic, helping people, and looking for clues about both this banished witch and how to break Seagull's curse. ^_^ Possibly w some bonus uncovering a bigger quest surrounding the myserious witch, who knows. Im not great at coming up w this kind of stuff hsnfnfj

Like i said IDK that it'll ever get anywhere because, as previously mentioned, i'm awful at keeping to projects and also have Absolutely No Knowledge of how video games get made. But it's fun to think about! Daydreaming about cute little pixel sprites for my sillies....

Also here's my current drafts for the sea witch design (still subject to change):

i have a few design notes on her but i need to go to bed rn HDBFNFH

[atinyslittleworld]

Unspoken

wooyoung x f!reader

Summary: Y/N and Wooyoung navigate their complicated friends-with-benefits relationship, struggling with unspoken feelings and possessive desires.

Genre: friends with benefits, angst, unrequited love

Warnings: heartbreak, slightly described intimate scene, mc cries

Y/N and Wooyoung had been friends with benefits for a few months now. Their arrangement was simple: no strings attached, just physical intimacy to relieve stress and satisfy their mutual desires. But for Y/N, it was becoming increasingly difficult to separate her feelings. She had fallen for him, deeply, though she never let it show. Wooyoung, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content with their arrangement, treating it as nothing more than a convenient way to pass time.

It was a quiet evening when Y/N found herself at Wooyoung’s apartment again. They had planned another night together and she hoped, foolishly, that maybe tonight he might show some sign of feeling something more for her. She knew she was setting herself up for disappointment, but she couldn’t help it.

They started as they always did, with light banter and casual conversation. Wooyoung’s charm was effortless, his laughter contagious. Y/N couldn’t help but be drawn to him, even though she knew it was risky for her heart.

As the night progressed, their casual touches turned more intimate. Wooyoung kissed her neck, his hands exploring her body with practised ease. Y/N responded eagerly, her feelings for him heightened the pleasure she felt from his touch.

Soon, they found themselves on his bed, clothes discarded in a trail leading from the living room. Wooyoung positioned himself above her, his eyes dark with desire. He didn’t notice the longing in her gaze, or if he did, he chose to ignore it.

As he entered her, Y/N couldn’t hold back the throaty moan that escaped her lips. The sound was raw, filled with both pleasure and a hint of the deeper emotions she kept buried. For a moment, Wooyoung faltered, the intensity of her response nearly pushing him over the edge.

“God, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice deep with arousal. “You feel so good around me.”

She bit her lip, trying to focus on the physical sensations rather than the ache in her heart. “Woo,” she whispered, her hands gripping his shoulders as he began to move. Each thrust send waves of pleasure through her, but it was bittersweet, knowing this was all she could have of him.

Wooyoung was relentless, his movements growing more urgent. He was lost in the moment, driven by his own needs. Y/N’s moans filled the room, a symphony of sounds that spurred him on. She knew she was giving him everything, even if he was just taking it for granted.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, her voice breathless. “Please, Woo.”

He responded by increasing his pace, pushing her closer to the edge. Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, a mix of overwhelming pleasure and the sadness of unrequited love. She cried out his name as she climaxed, her body trembling beneath him.

The intensity of her release pushed Wooyoung over the edge and with a few final thrusts, he reached his own pick, collapsing onto the bed beside her. They lay there in silence, their breaths heavy and mingling in the air.

Y/N turned her head to look at him, hoping for a sign that this meant more to him. But Wooyoung’s eyes were closed, a satisfied smile on his lips. He looked content but not in the way she longed for.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said casually, his voice already taking on that detached tone she dreaded. “You’re amazing, as always.”

Her heart sank, but she forced a smile. “Anytime, Woo,” she almost whispered.

They lay there for a while longer, but Y/N knew she couldn’t stay. If she did, her heart would brake even more. She got up, dressing quietly while Wooyoung drifted off to sleep. She paused at the door, looking back at him one last time.

“I love you,” she whispered, knowing he couldn’t hear her.

As she left his apartment, the cool night air hit her face, mingling with the tears she could no longer hold back. She knew she deserved better, someone who would love her back with the same intensity. But for now, she was trapped in this cycle, hoping one day Wooyoung might see her more than just a friend with benefits.

But deep down, she feared that day might never come.

[lovesicklovermia]

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙢𝙚

﹒﹒ ﹒summary - silence had been infiltrating for longer than you could recall. even reunited, silence was continued. yet, it was silence filled with joy.

﹒﹒ ﹒set in - some point during/after daryl dixon tv show! but don't worry, no spoilers, you dont need to watch that to read this!! (mostly because i havent even watched it)

﹒﹒ ﹒pairing - daryl dixon x reader

﹒﹒ ﹒ content inclusions - france!!! angst!! light fluff!! reader is a ballet dancer!!

notre dame once owned lights, candles that glistened and glowed above tourists, mourners, anyone’s eyeline. they had filled the old building with so much historical knowledge, so much joy and understanding (usually) for the place they were visiting. yet, as walkers took over, the visitor numbers fell almost instantly, until there was nobody.

then, many years later, there was you.

a ballet scholarship in paris had been extremely short lived. you recalled the day well. dancing around your room, as stupid as ever, and although alone in this momentous occasion, it didn’t take you too long to realise you had someone who you could celebrate with.

so, with your best friend in lead and a grin on his face, you’d driven his motorbike to the cheapest liquor store you could, gotten wasted, then kissed yourselves dizzy.

three weeks later, you left for paris. suitcase in hand, your best friend was honestly troubled by the fact he couldn’t drive you on his motorbike all the way to the airport. you’d laughed it off, and driven together.

the goodbye was the worst. you didn’t know what to do, where to touch, who to hold who. to his surprise, you'd held him. you placed one hand on the back of his hair, one on his collarbone, and you’d leaned in, and given the most awkward press-hug of your life. 

you regretted it every day. 

a week later, the apocalypse had began.

you’d been in a stretch class, until the only thing that really stretched was those vile creatures, their pale and disfigured arms reaching towards you with the cruellest of intentions. the girls you danced with named them as ‘laidrons’, meaning ‘uglies’, and you found yourself in no rush to disagree. 

the nights trapped in the ballet academy were long, but your regrets lasted longer. you didn’t doubt your talents in ballet - not that it mattered anymore, anyway. you didn’t doubt your skills, or your willpower to move countries, to move to a country where you could not understand the language so well. 

you regretted not kissing your best friend goodbye.

perhaps it was stockholm syndrome, your captors being the vile, sickly creatures that had taken over your lives, where you could go, how you had dressed in preparation, what you could eat - everything benefited those who had taken over. you’d lived first. now, you couldn’t imagine a free world. yet, as these days had gone by, you imagined how it’d feel holding him, him holding you, the simple emotion that flooded and pumped through your veins as you thought about the taste of his lips, a taste you’d so quickly recalled from the drunken night of your acceptance, yet forgotten soon after.

yet, as years came and went, and zombies showed no signs of stopping, you regretted your choices of education, not only those regarding your best friend. you longed for sanctuary, so sanctuary is where you went.

notre dame.

a gorgeous building, and although the bells no longer sang to warn of new hours, new days, you practically sang with joy as you’d entered the building. those joyous notes had quickly been subsided, however, as you’d realised you had to clear out an entire hoard of uglies. cameras dangling from their sickly necks, t-shirts with baguettes, macarons and eiffel towers. you’d kept a camera, but once looking through the photographs, had decided to bury it in the back garden. it felt wrong, to rifle through photos of the person you’d just killed.

you made a life for yourself in notre dame. towering walls and doors meant years of salvation, and salvation is what you received. wine, stored in towers. food, that you took from stores and rationed without failure. perhaps it was wrong, to bury your life away in one building, for the rest of time. perhaps it was wrong for whoever to send a zombie apocalypse upon this weak world. what could be done?

you reflected, every day. however that looked that day - that was up to you. you changed your ways of reflection often. sometimes you’d close your eyes, sometimes you’d plead for a bright future, and sometimes you’d stare up at the stain glass windows. just because the world had been overthrown, that did not effect the bright light emitted from the sun.

today, you’d stared. and you’d stared, and you’d stared. your doors were blocked with such precision, it was a wonder anybody had entered the building at all.

yet, they had.

instead of violence, you’d pleaded for your life to be taken quickly, with ease. you’d pleaded for your life to end as if you were approaching sleep, as if you were returning home, as if you were receiving a kind hug. it had been several years without a hug. it had been several years without people at all.

there had been silence. hell, you hadn’t even heard the footsteps.

then arms looped around your waist, and you’d heard nothing other than a sob.

confusing, yet you’d understood. this was still a cathedral, and you should provide sanctuary for anyone and everyone you could. it wasn’t your fault, that people had presumed that notre dame had been overrun with cruel monsters. it wasn’t your fault, that they were unaware of your newfound title of a murderer.

clearly, your newfound friend had dealt with worse.

you hadn’t pried this individual away, and simply glanced left, instead. a head, tucked away on your shoulder. you recognised the hug, yet your heart beat too quickly to give a quick-witted response. instead, warmth filled your heart.

“are you alright?” you’d practically cooed, for you knew the person well enough, of course. pure silence followed, so you affirmed that you knew who he was. “daryl?”

nothing more than a muffled noise, then as you’d attempted to turn your whole body, you’d practically been launched onto the steps, arms wrapping securely around you. “of course ya’d be in the prettiest damn place ya could find.”

those words, the distance from your last moment that you’d managed to hear his voice, to this precious event. you’d practically only sobbed in response, a small chuckle escaping your lips, before you pressed each palm onto each cheek of his, lifting his head up slightly.

he was a different man.

but, to him, you were still the prettiest girl, lighting up the place, making it the prettiest place in the universe.

maybe you had changed. hell, he wouldn’t have the faintest clue. he was quite worried - not for how he’d fare with the girl he’d been missing for this great number of years, but how he could convince you that he could still love you, despite his fear to say so.

he thought it felt wrong, to hold you in such a doting and gentle manner, while he had slung people-killers, a bow and arrow thrown over his back. he’d held you gentler than he’d held anything since the apocalypse, yet, as you’d squeezed him back tighter than ever, he’d recalled that normalcy was, to some, the easiest way to deal with such an inhumane situation.

he understood quickly that you were one of such people, and as he’d whispered his vows to stay with you, whether here, whether in america, or whether on the moon itself, thoughts of others had been discarded - for once, in his life.

he’d lived so long without you, his strength emitted from serving justice to you, which - despite his usual confidence in you, had faltered as the world did too. he did presume you were dead.

yet, as you’d lit a candle together, the light from both the windows and the one singular candle emitting you to see one another, you’d simply studied one another for a while.

feeling whole was no longer something either of you could reward yourselves with. but, one another’s presence was the closest you could ever reach.