#but that just opens up a black hole of things so im leaving it

[ireneispunk]

Pride, the Wolf, and the Dragon

Jacaerys Velaryon & Cregan Stark x female reader smut (King's Landing Handmaiden)

You were a sight to behold, merely a handmaiden yet you could command a room. And grasp the attention of a prince and a lord... on the same night?

request: (anon) 'Saw your requests are open, what about dark dom jace x sub brat reader or a threesome with the same as before but with cregan too which they're dark dom but still obsessive I don't know how these too can make sense but I hope you got my point'

w.c: 4537

c.w: canon divergent (blacks won and it is set after the dance, rhaenyra sits the iron throne, basically just did it to have everyone in one place), threesome!!! woop woop, p in v sex, oral (m & f receiving), light choking, spanking, overstimulation, dirty talk, NO use of y/n, as usual no specific features mentioned - let me know if i've missed any!

a.n: i've never wrote for cregan before but im supper happy with this! other requests made are about half done for those waiting ♡

dividers: @v6que ♡

You let out another fake giggle as yet another wealthy man bided for your attention. This type of thing always happened on big occasions, and today certainly was one. Lucerys and Rhaena’s wedding was no small occasion, every lord and lady who had supported Rhaenyra’s claim was here. I mean hells, that’s why you even had the opportunity you did. You weren’t low born, but handmaiden to the queen was a role very much reserved for high born girls. You father had risked his own life, and your families, to help Ser Erryk back into King’s Landing with a secret route he knew through Tumbleton. This job had provided you with a home in quarters you could’ve only dreamed of, and the opportunity to be around the prince. Your fingers grazed across your skin to fiddle with your necklace, you smiled up at the man in front of you, laying on your charm. Despite entertaining his dull conversation and even duller jokes for the past half an hour, you certainly did not care for him. You took advantage of the man’s position in society and every once in a while, you stared beyond his shoulder to see the prince of Dragonstone burning holes into his back. Tonight, however, was different. Not only had you caught they eye of one prince Jacaerys, but his friend from The North, Lord Stark. You could not deny the beauty the two of them shared, handsome, strong features, large frames and eyes that looked as if they wanted to consume you. The few times you looked their way, as to avoid suspicion, they occasionally whispered to one another. A small look caught your eye from your queen, Rhaenyra. You excused yourself from the conversation and walked to the other side of the great hall to where Rhaenyra and Daemon sat. From the opposite side of the table, you felt a gaze upon you, but you did not do the favour of glancing upon them.

You reached Rhaenyra’s side bowing your head before she whispered to you, “Has Lucerys’ chambers been prepared?” She seemed uncomfortable at the request.

You nodded as you said, “Yes, your grace. I can return? And make sure it is still perfect?”. She shook her head, as Daemon placed a hand upon her’s.

“No that won’t be necessary, you have done so much for us today. Feel free to keep enjoying the celebrations,” She paused to look over to her eldest son and the Lord Stark. “Though I believe there are still some who await your acquaintance.” Your mouth formed into a small ‘o’ shape before nodding. You took your leave and turned to face towards the prince and the lord. Both had already been starring at you, Jacaerys averted his gaze whilst the Stark stared you down. Once you stood opposite them at the table you gave the prince a small curtsy, before turning to Cregan and dipping into a deeper curtsey whilst maintaining eye contact with him. He raised his brow, not used to being looked in the eye by such a sweet looking girl. “Your grace. My Lord Stark, I am pleased to meet you.” You spoke confidently, introducing your name and admired the length of his arms that were visible from his rolled sleeves, “It appears the warm climate agrees with you, my lord.” This was one of your favourite hobbies, you couldn’t deny it. Compliment lords see how they respond, speak almost out of turn but not enough to turn any heads. Jacaerys’ grip on his cup tightened at your remark. For weeks since you had worked there you had tortured him. Wearing those barely there handmaiden’s dresses, the obsessive eye contact, compliments unbefitting of a lady he was not courting, drawing his baths, and offering your assistance. Everyday it was a struggle to not rip your dress from you and fuck you in front of everyone like you seemed to desire. He loathed any sort of gathering because he knew your beauty and charm would attract the attention you deserve.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a large smack across the back from his Stark friend. “Where have you been hiding this one Jace?” He exclaimed with a laugh.

You smiled slightly, “Perhaps my lord has not been searching hard enough, enjoy the rest of the celebrations.” You smirked, turning on your heel and stepping down the stone stairs. A bewildered look flashed across Cregan’s face, as Jacaerys shot him a ‘now you know’ look. You were stopped by a rather handsome man on your way past the dancing pairs, you declined his offer to dance and made your way to the other maidens who erupted into quiet chatter, asking you about what the Stark had said.

Your final task of the night had been escorting Rhaena to Lucerys’ chambers. You held her hands in yours and promised her she would be okay, you boasted of Lucerys’ sweet nature and gave her hand a quick squeeze before stepping back behind the corner. You watched as she knocked on the door, before it opened, and she disappeared inside. You smiled to yourself as you turned to head down the corridor before coming face to face with the tall northern man once more. You gasped, raising your hand to your heart. A small chuckle left his lips as he eyed you. He did not know you all that well, but this felt like a rare feat, to catch you off of yours. “My lord, you startled me. Is there something I can help you with?” You looked at him and watched as his eyes shamelessly travelled down your body, lingering on every curve.

“Ah, yes, my lady. I appear to have gotten turned around from my chambers, and I’d hate for those fancy baths these lot make go cold.” You raised a brow at him. Sure, the Red Keep was busy, with windy corridors, but it was a fairly straightforward route from the great hall to the guest’s chambers.

You gestured with your hand to follow him the way he came, “Of course, my lord. Though you do not need to use such honorifics with me, I am not a lady of anything.” He sensed a strange proudness in your lack of title. Cregan was used to people fighting to get the next best thing, yet you were content with your lack of status.

He thought for a moment, before responding. “Then how may I refer to you?”

“However his lord desires.” You spoke with purpose, but never harshly. Every second he had of you intrigued him more.

Once you had reached the familiar door in which Cregan was given a few days prior, you placed your hands behind your back and watched him. He stepped by you and pushed the door open, he leaned against the door frame and eyed you. “So.” You watched him, waiting for him to continue. “Do you have anymore handmaiden duties for the night? Or are you available for me?” A smile tugged at your lips as you thought for a moment.

“Mmm, that depends, why do you wish to know?” Your arms folded over your chest.

He chuckled, “I’ve never had to try this hard to get a pretty girl to have a drink with me.”

You raised your brow, “Most men just ask.” He brought a hand to his chin and rubbed it against the scruff. Just as he was about to respond, someone speaking caught your attention.

“It is getting late your grace is there something you need?” You recognised one of the servants voicing out from around the corner. Out of curiosity, you stepped back to see who it was and there stood the prince himself. He looked away from you when he met your gaze.

“I will come in for a cup of wine. Just one.” Cregan’s face lit up, stepping to the side to allow you to step inside. Your eyes narrowed at the lit fire, the flames still tall. You heard the clanking of a belt and the shuffling of clothes before turning back around to Cregan. You jaw dropped slightly at the sight of him completely nude and making his way over to the bathtub in the room. Your eyes absorbed every inch of him, admiring each defined muscle, every scar, the dark hair that tufted around his chest.

You pulled your gaze away and turned to face the wall. “My lord this is not appropriate.” You voice quivered ever so sightly as heat rose to your cheeks.

“Neither is staring.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “But why waste a perfectly good bath.” You heard water slosh around as he sank into the tub. “Turn around.” Your core lit up at the sternness in his voice.

You turned to face him now that he was submerged, only his upper torso out of the water. He leaned back into the tub, sighing out as he brought his arms to rest on the sides. “Wine?” He questioned. You looked at him with a puzzled look but nodded your head. He gestured over to small table and chairs that had a jug and a few cups upon it. You made your way over, feeling his gaze locked onto you.

“When you invited me in, I thought it might be you fetching the wine.” You grasped two of the cups and the jug before turning to face him.

“Ah, well. It seemed easier to get my own clothes off first.” You raised a brow and walked over to him. You kept your eyes on his face, avoiding what was beneath the water. You used your foot to slide over a cushioned stool towards the side of the bath and sat upon it. You met his gaze once more, now eye level with him. You held out a cup to him and watched his fingers lace around it. Picking up the jug in your hands you steadily poured into the cup, before moving onto your own. You were about to take a sip from yours before he stopped you to clink cups. He did so as if you were another harsh northern man causing the liquid in your cup to slosh backwards and land over your arm and into your lap. You gasped and looked up at him with a shocked look on your face. He laughed heartily at your expression and took a sip of his wine. He heard as your cup clinked against the floor, “You may clean up with me if you wish.” He smirked, placing his cup on the ground, and gesturing to the bath. You stomach tightened at the thought of it but rose to your feet with a hum. He moved slighted and raised his hand up to you. “Stay, please. No more win spilling.” His damned handsome face spread a warmth across your body. You exhaled before taking his hand.

All of a sudden you felt him pull you down, landing bum first into the bath with a big splash that threw water over the sides. You let out a small scream feeling yourself become soaked in water. You yelled at him, splashing his face with the water in annoyance before the door suddenly opening caused his laughter and your screaming to cease. You turned around to see a very angry, then confused, then embarrassed Jacaerys. Your heart dropped as you scrambled to your feet out of the bath, you slipped slightly on the wet floor before stepping towards him. “Y-your grace!” You exclaimed, you felt exposed, the thin material of your dress completely soaked through and clinging to every inch of your body. His eyes darted between you and Cregan.

“I heard a scream, and thought I recognised it. My apologies.” He was about to turn to walk away before Cregan got up out of the tub. Jacaerys eyes widened before hastily shutting the door. Jacaerys kept his eyes firmly on the wall behind you, worrying that if his pants got any tighter it’d be noticeable. For once, you were speechless, unable to form a thought, let alone communicate it. “C’mon Jace, this is exactly how you wanted her. Naked- well almost, needy. I know she’s needy just at the sight of you.” His voice rung out from behind you. “I know you didn’t imagine sharing,” He inhaled sharply through his teeth, as his fingers grazed over your shoulder to pull your hair behind you. “But she’s definitely one who needs two cocks to put her in her place.” You face flushed, as you felt a new wetness in between your legs as Cregan’s hands sat upon your shoulders, rubbing small circles with his thumb. Jacaerys finally brought his gaze to you, he eyed your face before devouring ever inch of your body. His throat bobbed as he walked to face you.

“Tell me what you want.” He spoke as he locked onto your eyes. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, feeling as if you were in a dream.

“I want you,” You spoke softly. “Both of you.” You clarified, looking back over your shoulder to meet Cregan’s eyes.

His large hand rested on your jaw, tilting it up towards him. A shaky breath escaped your lips as his hand trailed down and rested upon your neck, his thumb tracing your throat. Cregan turned your head to face Jacaerys, his jaw was tensed, fists clenched at his sides and eyes filled with hunger. Your body burned hot, Cregan’s body pressed against you, his hard cock pressed above your ass. His grip on your jaw tightened slightly. His lips grazed against your neck up to your ear. “Undress his grace,” Your heart buzzed as Jacaerys’ eyes finally tore away from yours to fleet to Cregan’s for a second before returning to you. You swallowed, feeling smaller and smaller as the seconds passed. “Go on, like a good serving girl.” Cregan’s voice dripped with lust. Your hands made their way onto Jacaerys’ chest, he stiffened under your touch. Your fingers traced along the three headed dragon pin that held his jacket together before unpinning it and letting the jacket fall open at his chest. Cregan’s hands never once left you, tracing up and down your sides of your soaked dress, lips occasionally finding your neck or shoulder. Your eyes travelled down to the belt that decorated his waist and kept you from seeing him. You unhooked it, and pulled it from him, allowing it to clatter to the ground. Your hands pushed his coat from his shoulders and down his arms, revealing a thin cotton shirt. His throat bobbed as your hands traced to his waistband, pulling his shirt up slowly over his head. You hand instinctively touched against his chest, admiring each definition and feeling his skin burn beneath your fingertips. “I told you she’s fucking needy for you.” Cregan’s words flushed your face. Jacaerys eyed you, raising a brow to question him. You nodded lightly feeling overwhelmed with the tightening in your stomach, Cregan’s hands exploring your sides, and Jacaerys watching you like you were his prey. Jacaerys picked up your hand in his and placed a small kiss against it before placing your palm against the bulge in his trousers. Jacaerys’ hand reached your jaw, his thumb traced along your lip as his brows furrowed from your touch.

His fingers were soft, and his touch more delicate than Cregan’s, as he tilted your face to the side as if he were finally able to appreciate every inch of your beauty. His eyes flashed behind yours towards Cregan before you were being led over towards the bed. Jacaerys sat first on the end of the bed, pulling you by your hips to stand between his legs. His palm ran from your stomach, through the valley between your breasts and he rested his fingertips upon your lips while he thought for a moment. “Take off her dress, wouldn’t want the poor thing getting cold.” Your thighs instinctively pressed together. You’d never heard Jacaerys speak in a tone like this, but it was certainly a welcomed surprise. You felt the large hands of the Stark trail up your exposed back to the tie of your haltered dress. One movement later the dress was pulled over your chest and over your hips and dropped to the ground. You felt a cool chill over your exposed skin as Cregan took your hand in is. He pulled you around in a circle, admiring each curve of your form as he did so. A small ‘gods’ mumbled from his lips as he watched you. You gasped as his hands travelled round to your front, taking your breasts into his hands. Jacaerys leaned back slightly to admire you, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing your inner thighs. Your eyes screwed shut as Cregan’s fingers played with your nipples and his lips attached to your neck. “I want her coming on my tongue first.” Your eyes shot open to watch Jacaerys, a small smile playing at his lips. You opened your mouth to say something before Cregan shushed you.

“You heard the prince.” Cregan instructed. You gulped lightly, watching Jacaerys lay back upon the bed, his head of curls hitting the pillows. Cregan held your hand pulling you onto the bed. He watched as you crawled over to Jace, his hand landing on your ass with a harsh slap, causing a yelp to leave your lips.

His hand pushed you closer over Jacaerys until you were straddling his chest. Jacaerys’ hands looped over your thighs to bring your core to his face. His smirk disappeared under your mound as his lips placed small kisses on your thighs. Cregan sat beside you and guided your hand to his cock. He hissed as your hand wrapped around it and began slowly pumping it up and down. You felt as Jacaerys licked a long stripe from your core to your sensitive clit, tasting and collecting your wetness on his tongue. You almost flinched at the sensation, your hand flying up to grip the headboard. A loud moan left your lips as his tongue teased your entrance, before delving in and out of it. Cregan turned your face to him, a groan leaving his lips seeing yours screwed up in pleasure. Your hand continued to pump his cock, enjoying feeling it twitch beneath your hand when your thumb grazed the tip. You jaw dropped at the feeling of Jacaery’s tongue massaging your clit. A flurry of moans left your mouth as his lips latched onto it causing your hips to rut into his face and that familiar tightness to return to your stomach. Cregan’s thumb pulled on your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth and gliding across your tongue. You moans were supressed by Cregan’s thumb as you sucked upon it, a satisfied smirk plastering his face as your eyes fell back behind your lids. His thumb left your mouth with a pop as his hand returned to your throat. Your hand moved quicker on his cock as Jacaerys tongue worked on your clit. “You should thank his grace for his hard work, pleasing you with his tongue like this.” Cregan spoke close to a whisper, well, as close to a whisper as the Northern man could get to.

You whimpered in response, unable to form words being on the precipice of your orgasm. Cregan’s hand squeezed lightly against your throat, his rough fingers grazing your soft flesh. “Use your words when spoken to.” His tone was harsh in a way that flushed your cheeks.

“T-thank you, my prince, for kissing me.” The words fought to escape your lips as all you felt you could do was moan. Your praise causes a groan to fall from his mouth that vibrated upon your clit and fuelled him to massage it at an unbearable pace with his tongue. Your nails dug into the headboard, as your other hand left Cregan’s cock to grip his forearm that held your neck. A flurry of moans left your lips as your orgasm erupted from within you. Your thighs quivered as Jacaerys’ tongue broadly licked you through your high. A large whimper left you lips from the overstimulation causing Jacaerys to place a final kiss upon your clit. You panted as you shuffled down back to straddle his waist. Jacaerys leaned up on his elbows to see you, his hair was dishevelled, his lips plump and coated in your arousal. You leaned forward and tentatively placed a kiss on the side of his mouth, before brushing your lips against his. Your tongue swiped over his lips, tasting your wetness. You gasped as your hips were gripped and you were pulled further down on the bed onto all fours. Jacaerys smirked as you were level with his cock, his pants becoming impossibly tight.

Cregan’s fingers teased the entrance of your pussy as he leaned forward to you, “Gods Jace, she’s soaked.” Your cheeks flushed as you looked away slightly. Jacaerys’ hand found your cheek and turned you to face him.

“I want to watch as he fucks you.” He smiled slightly; his words contradicting the sweet look upon his face. A whimper left your lips as you felt Cregan’s cock rub between your folds and occasionally hitting your sensitive clit. You watched in anticipation as Jacaerys undid the tie of his trousers and pulled them down enough for his cock to spring free. It was huge and dripped with an inviting bead of precum.

Just as your lips were about to touch Jacaerys’ cock, Cregan thrusted into you, bottoming out almost immediately. You clenched at the full feeling, your eyes screwed shut as you let out a half yelp half moan. Once his pace became regular you opened your eyes to see Jace stroking his cock at the sight of you. You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, begging for his cock. He obliged and groaned at the sight and sensation of the tip hitting your tongue. With both of your hands propping you up on all fours you took him into your mouth bobbing up and down on the tip and massaging the underside with your tongue. You couldn’t help but moan onto his cock with the feeling of Cregan pounding into you, his length hitting a soft spot inside of you you’d never felt before. Cregan’s hands went from peppering small slaps across your ass to kneading it with his large hands. Jacaerys’ hand made its way to your hair and took a fistful of it. He was gentle as his guided your mouth further down his cock. He moaned loudly as it glided across your tongue and hit the back of your throat. The familiar pressure began to build up in your stomach, and as if he read your mind, Cregan’s pace quickened. Both of his hands gripped into your hips, snapping into you, and pushing against your sweet spot. One of his hands left you hips to reach under your and rub harsh circles into your clit. Your eyes widened as your moans got choked upon Jacaerys’ cock. You tapped the side of his thigh, and he immediately pulled you from his cock, allowing heavy pants to leave your mouth. You cried out a loud ‘fuck’ as you felt your second orgasm wash over you, your pussy clenching tightly over Cregan’s cock. Just as quickly as your orgasm passed your mouth reattached to Jacaerys’ cock, wanting him to enjoy himself too.

A few moments after your peak, Cregan thrusted a few more times before burying his cock deep inside of you and filling you up with his cum. He groaned loudly as his fingertips dug into your skin. He slowly pulled out of you and collapsed onto the bed behind you. Despite the shaking in your legs and your sensitive pussy, you looked up to Jacaerys with an idea. You readjusted to straddle his waist once more and aligned his cock with the entrance of your pussy. Jacaerys looked shocked for a moment before his hungry gaze returned. Your brows furrowed as you slowly slid down onto his cock, trying to readjust for his size. You watched as his head threw back in pleasure as your second cock of the night bottomed out inside of you. You started to move, slowly thrusting yourself upon him. Jacaerys eyes opened to watch you, occasionally looking down to his cock disappearing inside of your pussy that was now overflowing with cum. A loud groan left his lips as he internally cursed himself for not being able to last longer and savour your pussy smothering his cock. He pulled you down by your hair to meet his lips as he kissed you deeply. It was passionate, his tongue leaving little time before it delved into your mouth. You moaned against his lips at the new angle, he was managing to fill you even more. Your thighs shook with overstimulation and Jacaerys noticed before he held your hips at a certain point and began to thrust into you. Your eyes locked with his as you moaned his name. He grunted as his rhythm became erratic before holding your hips down on his cock and as you felt his seed spread within you. You rested your forehead against his as you both regained your breath. His hands ran softly down your back as he pulled his cock from you. You whimpered at the emptiness, before sitting back onto your thighs to relieve the quiver in them as Jacaerys re tied his trousers.

You heard footsteps walk over to the side of the bed, before looking up to see a fully clothed Cregan. You blushed, realising how consumed you had been in the prince to not notice. “Aren’t you both just adorable.” He spoke with a chuckle, as his hand lightly spanked your ass. You shot him a glare, moving to lay beside Jacaerys. “Easy,” Cregan spoke raising his palm. “I though you were the fire breathing dragon.” He smirked gesturing to Jacaerys. Jacaerys, turned his head down to face you, before returning a shrug to Cregan with a smile. Cregan laughed, waving you off before making his way to the door. “Sleep tight, lovers.” He smiled to himself as his hand gripped the doorhandle.

“Wait! But this is your room?” You questioned, leaning up from the bed.

He shot you a grin, “I heard the prince’s chambers have become available.” He shot you both a wink before disappearing into the corridor. You hummed in confusion as Jacaerys just smiled.

“You both confuse me.” You hummed, scanning Jacaerys’ face. He raised his arm up and motioned you to lay beside him. You huffed as you cuddled into him, your head upon his chest. He reached for the blanket that had been tossed aside and threw it over you both. His hand landed upon your side, and softly rubbed your waist.

He planted a small kiss upon your head. “I think we both did a good job at showing you what we think of you.” You could hear the smile in his voice as your cheeks flushed. You definitely knew for sure now.

[thetransguard]

okay i knew it was coming but its kind of killing me how obtuse people are being towards toshiro (im not fucking calling him shuro and honestly yall should stop with that too). should he have told laios how he really felt about him, sure, yeah, but im going to go off on a limb here and suggest maybe! maybe! he's been raised in an environment where it's actually like legitimately unheard of and taboo to be very open and straight forward about his feelings. the entire party has been calling him by a name that literally isnt even his own because he is so used to quashing down his own reactions to others. like i think other poc diaspora dunmeshi fans might agree with me here but he just reads like someone whos not bothered enough to correct every microaggression thrown his way. because that shit is exhausting. and after like five hours of laios bugging him about stories of his homeland why would he have a good opinion of him. genuinely. im not saying laios is entirely at fault but neither is toshiro. i love laios too but it is Very Weird that toshiro gets the brunt of their friendship's falling out (ill circle back to this)

also to preface this i am a farcille shipper so im. not pushing for falin/toshiro. but people acting like his affection for falin is somehow not relevant or he has no devotion to falin at all is CRAZY. immediately after being teleported out he threw himself back into that dungeon and didnt eat or sleep properly to rescue her. we literally watch him collapse from it. after multiple episodes emphasizing the importance of nutrition and caring for yourself and your take away from a man willing to toss that away is that he just. doesn't care for falin? why is he in the dungeon then? answer. quickly. granted he's not as onboard with the whole black magic thing but his concerns are literally valid and before we see falin chimera he seems to have been talked down from reporting them all for it. its the proof of his concerns of the use of black magic that he decides to go up and report them at all. his bond with falin isn't nearly as strong as marcille's bond but its also not nothing. ignoring that or minimising his own sacrifices is such a nasty bad faith disservice to his character.

speaking of bonds. toshiro doesn't hate laios. guys. his last act this episode was to give laios and the rest of the party (yes, even black magic user marcille) a way out of the hole that they'd already dug for themselves. fleeing to the east and leaving falin to the elves isnt the best case scenario but it is one that lets the majority of the party survive whatever's coming. its the realistic play. is this the act of a man who hates his former colleagues? is he wishing harm and further misfortune on them? his actions speak for themselves. you guys are being way too hard on toshiro and its really fucking telling. this goes for white viewers especially

[sluts4matt]

SECRET (part two)

pairing: nate doe x sls!erika sturniolo

summary: she had hidden her feelings away for years, but with growing up and toxic relationships it was all starting to resurface.

warnings: making out(sorta), use of weed and alcohol, slight swearing

word count: 1388

authors note: it’s a slow build up y’all but i swear it’ll be good 🙈 read part one here

the bell rang signaling the end of class, everyone got up from their seats ready to leave the library.

"how long do we have to work on this?" nate asked, looking down at me slightly as he stood from the chair. "a week or two i think," i respond, shrugging my shoulders standing up to be eye level with him.

"can i come over tonight and we can start?" he asked, his blue eyes staring into mine. "of course," i responded, and his lips tugged into a grin.

"bye eri," he smiled, his hand resting on my shoulder before he walked away. the nickname was new, but still, pink flew to my cheeks.

"bye bye," i mumble, watching him walk towards the guys locker rooms. i met nick at his locker, "is mom here yet?" i ask, watching him look down at his phone.

"she texted saying five minutes ten minutes ago, so not yet," he stated, closing his locker. mom was picking us up since matt and chris had lacrosse practice today.

"nate's coming over tonight, by the way" i say, giving him a headsup as we walked towards the double doors that led outside. "why?" he asks, though he didn't mind since nate was his best friend.

"class project," i responded, and he nodded.

mom picked us up a minute or two later, pulling up to the curb. i sat in the front while nick sat in the back.

"how was school?" she asked, looking at us before looking back forward and pulling out of the school.

"fine," the two of us answered, and we both went silent. she smiled, continuing the drive.

as soon as we got home, the two of us were in our own worlds, not bothering to pay attention to anyone. i was sat on my bed, blackbear playing softly while i worked on homework for what seemed like forever.

there was a knock at my door, and i looked up. "come in," i stated, watching the door open and chris peak his head in.

"hey," he smiled, walking into the room, nate trailing behind him. "how was practice?" i ask, turning back to the math homework currently sprawled out on my desk.

"it was good," he smiled, his eyes drifting over to the tv that sat in the corner of my room, my spotify app currently displayed on it. "exhausting though," chris added.

"i bet," i replied, nodding my head. "how was school?" he asked, and i turned to look at him. "boring," i replied, and a laugh escaped his lips. "nates spending the night by the way," chris stated, making my head shoot up.

it wasn't like it wasn't normal for him too, it was just normally it was talked about with me too, to make sure it was okay. "that's fine, we have a project to work on anyways." i smile.

nate nods his head, humming in agreement. the two leave after that, closing the door behind them. i let out a sigh, the butterflies erupting once again.

an hour later nate was back in my bedroom, the two of us working on the project finishing the introduction in a little under an hour. we were sitting on the floor, papers scattered around. nate leaned against my bed, while i sat on my knees opposite of him.

"im bored," nate whined, dropping the pen he was holding onto the floor. "poor baby," i pout, a joking tone in my voice.

"do you have any alcohol?" he asked, his voice teasing. my eyes widened slightly, faking hurt as i put my hand over my heart. "what do i look like to you, an alcoholic?" i state, though i'm already standing.

he laughs, shrugging his shoulders. "sometimes," he says, watching me manuver around my bed, sliding it off the box spring slightly to reveal my stash.

i had cut a hole big enough to hide my things, knowing it was a decent hiding spot for my alcohol and weed. the raspberry smirnoff laid neatly on its back, while a black box with hello kitty and anime stickers covering it held my weed.

"alcohol or weed?" i ask, turning around. "both," he stated, and i laughed, grabbing the two bending over to set them on the floor before locking my door.

"you're a bad influence," nate teased, a smile gracing his face as he sat up. "you asked for it," i shrug, opening the bottle. i tilted my head back, drinking from it before setting it down with a grimace.

"my turn," nate mumbled, picking up the bottle and drinking it, he to made a face causing me to giggle. i opened the box, grabbing a pre-roll and a blue lighter.

i put the joint to my lips, lighting the end before inhaling the smoke. i passed him the joint, standing back up. the way his eyes followed me made me feel like folding but i held it together walking over to my window to crack it.

the smoke was filling the room quickly, the two of us being light smokers. we were already feeling it, our vision hazy and our minds a little foggy. the music playing from the tv was loud, not to loud though, the bass making the room vibrate lightly. or maybe it was the mixture of alcohol and weed.

we were laughing, the room filled with the smell of smoke and the strong scent of alcohol.

"your hair is so fucking soft," nate said, running his fingers through my hair. "it's the product i use," i giggle, taking another sip of the raspberry alcohol.

nate was sitting on the ground, his back pressed up against my bed frame while i was sitting in between his legs. i was facing him, my hands playing with the fabric of his sweater.

"what is this? cashmere?" i tease, tugging on the black fabric. "polyester i think," he said, slightly joking. i giggled, the room spinning a bit. his blue eyes stared into mine, his fingers brushing through my hair. i couldn't stop staring at his lips, wanting to kiss him.

"can i tell you a secret?" nate asked, his fingers now moving from my hair to rest on my cheek. "yeah," i responded, my eyes locked on his. "i want to kiss you so bad right now," nate mumbled, his face close to mine. "so do it," i whisper, my gaze shifting from his eyes to his lips.

i leaned in, pressing my lips against his softly, his hand resting on my jaw and tilting his head slightly. the kiss was slow, the two of us savoring it. nates hand drifted to the back of my neck, pulling me closer.

"open the door erika," i heard my moms voice, causing us to pull apart. she didn't sound angry but she definitely didn't sound pleased which caused my eyes to widen. we had been caught. "fuck, fuck, fuck," i mumble, getting up, "one minute," i call out, looking at nate who had gotten up from the floor.

he was smiling, his hair a mess and his lips slightly red. i walked over to the window, sliding it closed before locking it. i opened the closet, quickly grabbing the contents on my floor and stashing them there for the time being.

"fuck, get in my bed and lay down," i whispered, pushing nate over to the bed, causing him to giggle.

i opened the door, looking at my mom who stood in the doorway with a frown on her face. "mom," i smiled, the alcohol and weed having a stronger effect on me then i thought.

"it smells like pot in here," she immediately stated, crossing her arms. one thing about my mom was she was very laid back, it took quite a bit to actually upset her.

therefore seeing the frown, the displeased look in her eyes, and her arms crossed, i knew i had messed up. "nathan, you need to either go home or go hang out with the boys, that's why you're here." she said, her tone firm.

"im sorry," nate apologized, looking down at his feet. "i'm glad, i'm gonna go call your mom." she sighed, turning away. nate grabbed his things, mumbling a 'bye' before joining chris in his room, the affects of the alcohol and weed still having an effect, just not as much now.

i decided it would be best if i went to sleep, so that's precisely what i did. or what i tried to do. my mind was plagued with nate and the way his lips felt against mine. how his fingers brushed through my hair, the way his eyes looked into mine.

i didn't sleep until 2am, the thoughts of him running through my mind, keeping me awake.

tag list:

@hysteria-things @tillies33ssss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @sturniolossss @freshsturns @etvar12 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloa @chrryclouds @sturniolho @sturniolowhore @imwetforyourmom @novasturniolo03 @spencerstits @junovrsmp4 @breeloveschris @skyslondon @stars4chratt @monkeyscientist22 @sophssturn @hearts4chris @l5ka

[moondirti]

DEE IK THIS IS SO OFF THE BAT BUT IMAGINE RIDING MIGUEL’S ABS??!;!;?:?:? WHATS UR CRUMB ON THAT BCS IM LITERALLY ASCENDING INTO HEAVEN JUST BY THE THOUGHT OF IT😩☝🏼

SUMMARY: after the events of DOUBLE RAPTURE, we follow Mig back home and explore his less than ideal relationship with his world's version of you.

explicit (18+) | 1.5k words

part one / can be read as a standalone! WARNINGS: smut, ab-riding, handjobs, codependant relationships, submissive (?) miguel, ANGST, fear of commitment (on the reader's part), implied parental issues, drinking, anxious/avoidant attachment styles NOTES: did this take me forever to respond to? yes. have i been thinking about it every day since i received it? also yes. please have a little drabble as a sweet treat for your genius mind, anon. sorry i took it too far

This is how it is with Miguel.

Buttressed on a leather couch that isn't so much leather anymore, but cotton dotted with the flakes of black suede that've managed to hold on through the years since you bought it. It's old, unstable – somewhat an apt metaphor for your relationship to the man – and stands situated across a television with no cable. He shows up at your door on any unannounced night, where for once you wish he'd catch you with plans pre-made, and intrudes on your vain attempt to connect the old screen to your neighbour's internet.

And it's ironic that you should end up watching dated cartoons anyway, stuck inside your apartment that is a fraction the size of his, because he always opens on some variation of the same line – the very thing that woo'd you all those years ago, when you were younger and prone to any man's charm:

What's a pretty thing like you do in a place like this?

It's dark outside – night-worn inhibition being one of the main constituents to poor decision making – and his skin gleams golden in the dim lamp light. You can't refuse him for all your rationale on why, so he comes in and you pour a strong drink whose hangover tomorrow will take precedence over your guilt. He drinks too, perhaps to make your eventual rejection easier, and the two of you make-out on that tumbledown couch until your lips turn blue.

Sometimes, he comes up for air – only when he gathers enough courage to break away from you – to whisper filthy nothings and little promises on the shell of your ear. Neither are empty, you know. Miguel’s good at making good of every word when it comes to you. The push and pull gets to him, fuels his gears until he’s pouring proper work into making you happy. From what you can physically face – gonna have you creaming on my cock, cariño – to prospects that remain ever-frightening – wanna stay like this forever, you on my lap, sharing our home. 

You’ve never had a reference to ‘our’. Commitment remains a fickle thing for you, instilled by parents who didn’t have the mind to give it. He knows as much, but you don’t think he understands just what keeps you around regardless. What keeps you at the door, waiting for an acknowledged three-knuckle knock. None of the in betweens, flowers, nor the heights you reach spread-eagled underneath him. It’s always just been exactly that – his return, done every time without fail. 

(And there’s the ever-negging fear that one day he’ll grow sick of the cycle. 

On one hand, you hope he does. It hurts him more than it does you, and you hate to watch him leave. Yet on the other, more volatile hand – you pray he fucks you so well you forget your reserve, that he breeds and carries you away from this hole you’ve dug yourself in.) 

For now, though–

For now, you lift the shirt off his frame. He’s let his chest-hair grow since you met him last, and if you strain to remember, he’s gotten bulkier. Abs more pronounced, with pecs that bounce when you graze your nails down his side. It’s refined, a look that makes him appear older. You swoop down to lick his neck, moaning hotly once you reach his mouth. 

“You been working out, Mig?” 

“For you, hermosa. Figured you’d like me better like this.” He groans, kneading the flesh of your thighs. His fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, snapping it on your skin in an explicit plea to take it off. 

“And who told you that?” You say, acquiescing, working the lacey strip off your hips. Your cunt sucks at it, belligerent in letting go now that it’s soaked the fabric through. 

“A couple I met. They remind me of us.” His head follows yours when you draw away from an attempted kiss. It’s unintentional, done to stand off and strip completely, yet his reaction to it sends little tremors of pleasure to your core. “Of what we could be.” 

“Shhhh.” Once you’re completely bare, tits freed from your tank top, you straddle him again, a little higher this time. His waist is cinched enough to allow you to do so with little fuss, tendons at the top of your thighs aching only slightly. “Make me feel good, please.” 

“Of course.” 

His thumb presses down on your swollen clit, holding it in place while you arch your back and trap it underneath you – sandwiching it between your mound and his midriff. The pressure is electric, charged to fervency, buzzing as it lights every nerve ending from your waist below. And three thrusts forth and back see to it that he’s slick, lubed with the juices that gradually seep from your needy slit. 

The sight, the sensations, the thought that he’s putting effort outside of this room for you – they all make you exceedingly weak. Your legs wobble, practically jello, spine made out of sand and unable to support you fully. Miguel stays firm, one large paw squeezing your breast and the other at your pelvis. You’d ask him to help, to move you against him until you see stars, but a stone lodges in your throat and prevents the words from finding clarity. 

It’s guilt, of that you’re familiar, but for a number of things; the fact that he would help you seek pleasure in spite of his own – his erection left abandoned under the confines of his pants. The idea of desecrating his hard work, those muscles made pronounced, with your filth without fully appreciating it first. For everything, everything, and it’s so crushing that you stop moving altogether. 

“No, no. C’mon, pretty. Keep going.” He begs, pelvis thrusting up with need. You shove your arm behind you, seeking out the zipper keeping him from you, palming his hard length with clumsy assurance “Don’t worry about me. Wanna feel you cum on my abs. Gonna lick you clean after. We have forever if you’d let me. There’s no rush.” 

No rush. It’s far from the typical Miguel sentiment, and you blink in perplexed contemplation. But he just grins, brows knitting up with reverence. 

“Did these people also teach you to take your time?” You struggle to say patience, because he’s always been patient with you. 

“Something along the lines.” He mutters, suddenly sheepish. His fangs always intrude when his tone is quiet, like they’re intentionally making him difficult to understand. He knows he’s special to you when you try to decipher it nonetheless. 

“Don’t be making me jealous, now.” You taunt, dipping to bite his lip. It’s fun to pull up, up, until he whines and shoves you harder onto him. Achingly empty and close to cumming on his abdomen alone. Slowly, you start to gyrate again, riding unrelenting sinew. And in the meanwhile, you manage to get his zipper undone, sneaking your hand beneath his briefs.

“I’ll explain lat… later, p-promise.” 

“I don’t doubt it. F-Fuck,” Somehow, the pleasure is simultaneously heavenly and not enough, this little game you decided to engage in tiptoeing the line. He’s good even when he isn’t trying, just laying there, pinching pebbled nipples with enough callousness that it aches in the best way. On your first date – which wasn’t really a date, but a happenstance meeting at your father’s shady bar – he’d been hesitant to hurt you like you wanted. The best he could do was pepper your neck with sore hickeys, pocketed in the back alley, touch kinder than any you’d experienced before. “Oh my god.”

“Y-You’re so soft. My gorgeous girl. So soft and… and pretty when you do that.”

“Mig.” You wail, useless in properly pumping his pulsing cock. It’s all you can do to palm the head, smearing prespend all over his velvet tip. And it’s hard, like smelted iron, throbbing hot and heavy. It’s been so long since you’ve had it in you that you’re sure it’ll take some effort to fit. The abstraction fills you with desperation so poignant that you start moving faster, rougher, seeking an end where you’re stuffed full yet doing nothing to actually achieve it. 

That is, until–

“What do you need?” He asks.

Your hole clenches. Your guts knot together. Your orgasm gathers, full and sloshing wet, trapped behind the wall he’s been breaking down since his arrival. 

“You!” You finally admit. “You.” Softer. 

And when you cum, soaking his middle with shameless indulgence, all he does is flip you over to settle beneath him. The couch rocks with the sudden upheaval, threatening collapse, so he keeps a firm hold of your shoulders, kneeling between your quivering thighs. His breadth bobs from over his pants – you don’t recall taking it out – purple with restrained pain and just waiting for your cue to allow him entry.

“I’ve got you, cariño.” Miguel hums, positioning himself onto the divet of your cunt when you give a frail nod. “I’ve got you.” 

And you know, of course you do. He’s never backed away from a promise before. Because that is how it is with Miguel.

[addisonnie]

hinge and uhaul 2

summary: your second date with ellie!

warnings: cursing, making out, fingering…not proofread soz

an: WAAAAH i wrote smut wtf….. I need to shower now. Don’t be mean if it’s bad but definitely tell me how I can make it better this was my first time writing it im sorry if it’s bad pls be nice to me😭

part 1

————

Ellie Williams is definitely a witch.

She must’ve slipped a love potion into your martini or crafted a voodoo doll of you because there is absolutely no reason as to why Ellie should be on your mind as much as she is. The short peck you shared with her in the back corner of a dingy bar is burned into your memory, you don’t have to put in any effort to remember how she tasted. How she felt. Hell, even how she smelled—and she smells wonderful, by the way.

Okay, so she might’ve only dropped you off outside your dorm building twenty minutes ago. It’s perfectly reasonable to still be thinking about the kiss, right?

After she pressed that short kiss to your awaiting mouth she looked at her watch and sighed, “listen, it’s getting pretty late. Let me take you home?”

You nodded and let her drag you in circles around the bar to bid goodbyes to her friends, one hand tangled with her fingers, the other circles around her bicep. And then, she led you through the parking lot toward her borderline totaled car. Is that thing even street legal?

She opened the passenger door for you and drove you home with a firm hand on your knee, thumb doodling patterns into your skin.

And then, you were home.

It’s been twenty-five minutes since Ellie dropped you off after the first date and the only thing you think that could possibly purge her from your mind is sleeping. Unless she decides to infiltrate your dreams, too.

————

A couple light knocks on your door quickly jolt you awake. You drag your palms across your eyes and run a hand through your hair before sliding out of bed. Shit—no pants. Dina’s bed is empty and you’re sure she won’t mind if you use her throw blanket as a makeshift robe, draping it over your shoulders and hugging it across your body.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You hobble over to the door and pull it open without bothering to check through the peephole. Aw, fuck.

Ellie stands in the doorway, well, she leans in the doorway. Her shoulder is pressed up against the doorframe and her hands are slung in the pockets of her corduroy Carhartt jacket.

“Oh, shit. Did I wake you up? Not—not that you look like you just woke up. You look great, of course.” She’s much more sheepish than she was a few moments ago, it’s cute.

“You definitely woke me up. But that’s okay! What’s up?” You open the door wider and take a step backward, silently instructing her to come inside.

Ellie follows you further into the room after shutting the door behind her. She takes a moment to look around your room before leaning against the side of your bed, facing you.

“Honestly? I just wanted to see you again. I thought you’d be awake at—“ she checks her watch, “five in the afternoon. But I was clearly wrong.”

The two of you giggle, a dramaticized gasp leaving Ellie’s lips when you playfully shove her shoulder, “naps are a thing, yanno.”

She stops laughing after a moment and smiles, “are you busy right now?”

“I am now.” She smirks at your response and tugs on the blanket around you, “put some pants on and let’s get going then.”

Your eyes widen, face flushing, “how did you—“ her chin juts outward and she’s looking down at your legs. A large hole in Dina’s blanket exposes your upper thigh and hip, the pink lace of your underwear sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Fuck me. Good thing it was you at the door, I guess.” Ellie shakes her head and laughs, “turning around now. Wear something comfy. And warm.”

While she faces the other direction you quickly survey her outfit. Black converse, gray sweatpants, a fitted black top, and her jacket. Okay, comfy.

You drop the blanket wrapped around you and slip on whatever pants are closest to you, tugging on a baggy cardigan, “okay, no longer indecent.”

Ellie chuckles and turns around, “alright, pretty baby. Grab a blanket and a pillow, not Dina’s shitty, ripped one.”

Ellie must’ve been googling ‘what names can I call someone to make them horny.’ Pretty baby. Pretty. Baby? You could shit your pants and vomit. Fuck—you’re sweating. Grab the pillow to distract yourself.

“‘Kay. Got it.” Ellie smirks and stretches her hand toward you, “let’s get going then, hm?”

—————

This is definitely not Ellie’s car, that much you know. Her piece of shit Honda was practically stuck together with glue and duct tape. This truck was nice, really nice actually. Is she a criminal, then? Grand-theft auto? Being so goddamn sexy?

“It’s my dad’s. The truck. I bribed him with a 24-pack and a pre-roll so he’d let me borrow it. Or so he’d get really drunk and not realize I hijacked him. Whichever, really.”

You laugh and turn to face her, “ah, so I was right. Grand-theft auto.”

Ellie scoffs and squeezes your thigh as a warning, “it’s hardly a crime. That grouchy old fuck owes me, like, way more than one night of borrowed truck-time.”

You stare at her for a moment, waiting for her to drop the angry act and crack a smile. Her face pinches up under your stare and she turns to the side to quickly smile before turning back to you, regaining her composure.

“You totally just laughed.”

She rolls her eyes, “I didn’t.”

“Yes you did. You laughed. I saw it.”

Her hand swats at your thigh, “…how do you feel about corn dogs?”

You splutter out a laugh and cough, patting your own chest to try and calm down.

“Corn dogs. Do you like them?” Ellie enunciates each word with a squeeze on your knee, “yeah—yeah I like them. What kind of sicko doesn’t like corn dogs?”

She wordlessly turns down onto a dimly-lit dirt road, the car shaking and groaning as it overpasses multiple potholes. The road goes on for a beat before opening up into a massive field, two large white screens are placed several yards apart in the grass and cars littered the lawn before the screens. No way she’s taken you to a drive-in! A shitty little one-story building sits nestled by the tree line, it’s practically folding in on itself, and the old yellow paint can hardly even be called yellow anymore because of the filth covering it. It manages to look homey, though.

“I hope you like movies. I wasn’t really sure what you like…so I just got tickets for that new scary one. We can sneak to the other side if—“

You cut her off and wrap your fingers around her hand on your thigh, “it’s perfect. Really.”

She blushes and tucks her chin into her shoulder, “I’m glad.”

—————

Ellie parks mostly in the back, only a couple cars parked further behind you.

“Here—take my card and grab us some snacks while I set up the truck bed.”

You blink at her and take a quick glance to her outstretched hand, “Ellie, be so for real right now. You’re not paying for gas, tickets, and food.”

She immediately rolls her eyes and moves to jut her hip out, placing both of her hands on her hips, “I’m not doing this with you right now. Take the card.”

Before sparing her a second glance you take off in the direction of the yellow building, gripping your own debit card between your fingers. Ellie practically squeaks out of shock as she watches you bolt away from her, “hey—what the fuck!”

She’s immediately running after you like a madman, yelling your name and laughing when she watches you stumble over your untied shoelaces. Her long legs quickly lead her straight to you, and she has to skid to a stop to be sure she doesn’t plow straight into your back.

You’re panting while trying to speak with the man behind the counter to give him your order and Ellie quickly wraps her arm around your middle,

“Hey. Two corn dogs, one large blue raspberry slushie—two straws. And…one funnel cake!” She lightly shoves you aside and slams her debit card onto the counter, “nice try, sweetheart.” She winks.

Little. Fucking. Shit.

“Not fair. You’ve got more leg than I do.”

“Hush. Help me carry this back to the truck.” She passes off one corn dog and the large slushie, smiling when you take a large gulp, “good?”

You smile at her, “delicious.”

—————

Ellie is halfway sitting up, her back is resting against the pillows in the bed of the truck, both of her legs spread and outstretched. Your head is resting on her shoulder and the leg closest to Ellie is resting over her lap, the other bent up to your chest. A comforter rests over your laps, underneath, Ellie has one arm wrapped around your waist, the other is draped across the leg you have thrown onto her lap.

You can clearly tell she’s not watching the movie anymore; Ellie is not as discreet as she thinks she is. Her entire face is turned and facing downward to look at you, it takes everything in you to not turn and lock eyes with her. She can tell, too. She knows you’re actively trying to not look at her, and she proves that point further when she drags her fingers to the waistband of your sweatpants. Her fingers pause for a moment, gauging your response. When she notices you’re not moving to yank her hand away, she continues further.

Long fingers sneak under your gray sweats and walk to rest on top of your clothed mound. You suck in a breath and bend the leg laying in Ellie’s lap, spreading your legs further. Her (fucking massive) hand snakes down to cup your pussy and you squeak, shuffling your back further into her chest. A chuckle rumbles in her chest and she nudges her nose into the crown of your head, “look at me.”

You gulp and continue to face straight. Bad move. Ellie doesn’t like that response, she begins moving her hand out of your pants before you jerk to grab her tattooed wrist.

In a low tone, she says, “I told you to look at me, pretty girl.”

A flood of wetness immediately spills into your panties and you whine, shoving her wrist back into your pants. When she obliges, you turn your head upward and to the side, looking right at her. Ellie doesn’t speak to you, she immediately turns her head down, pressing her lips into yours. She’s kissing you like a bitch in heat, it’s messy, wet, and downright filthy. Her tongue slides along your bottom lip over and over, practically begging that you open your mouth. When you deny her that sweet salvation, her teeth graze over your lip until they sink into the cherry flesh, biting harshly and tugging. You whine into her mouth and she sucks it in immediately, already feeling drunk off your sounds. Determined to drag another whimper from you, her fingers drag over your underwear-covered pussy and press harshly onto your clit.

Your lips detach from Ellie’s when you let out a moan, Ellie gives you a minute before she whispers, “let me touch you. Can I?”

You don’t even nod before leaning forward to kiss her again for a moment before she pulls away, leaving your lips to chase after hers.

“Say it. Let me hear you say it, pretty.” She nips at your cheek.

“Please.”

Ellie tuts, “not enough, peanut.”

You whine and shuffle under the blankets, your hand shoves down into your sweatpants, fingers pulling your pink panties to the side. Ellie’s hand is tugged back toward your core and your fingers and immediately push her fingers to drag over your sticky folds.

“Please fucking touch me.”

Her mouth is back on yours immediately while she moves to circle her fingers around your tiny hole. You cry into her mouth and reach across your body to grip her head in your hand. Ellie’s middle finger dips into your core before spreading your wetness up and down your core. Her ring finger joins the other and immediately slides to be knuckle-deep in your pussy. For a moment, she doesn’t move her fingers, she lets them rest inside, warm and wet. Your teeth nip at her bottom lip while you hit your hips forward, whimpering into her mouth at the feeling.

She smiles messily into the kiss and moves her fingers out before slowly sliding them back in. Her fingers drag tauntingly slow against your walls, the stretch of her thick, long fingers has you careening at her every movement—but it isn’t enough.

You whimper into her mouth and wriggle in her grasp, moving your hand to tug at her wrist, she briefly pulls her lips from yours to laugh at your antics.

“Okay, baby. I got you.” And then she’s off. Her fingers slip in and out of your pussy at a pace you could surely never set yourself. They’re fast and slick, hastily rubbing in all the best places. She scissors her fingers inside of you while pistoning in and out and you pull away from her mouth again to turn your head and bury it into your shoulder.

Ellie presses a wet kiss to the crown of your head while her other hand snakes across your waist to circle at your little clit. Her pointer and middle finger tightly swirl over your clit while her other hand was busy sneaking in a third finger. The stretch makes you gasp and grip at her wrist, not sure if you could take it or not. Another light laugh leaves her lips while she shakes your hand off, “you got it.”

She fucks her fingers into you at a reckless speed, her other fingers rub and pinch at your clit and Ellie thinks you might combust if you clench on her fingers any harder. Your juices are leaking into her palm and spreading all down the globes of your ass, and the wet sounds coming from your dripping cunt are surely loud enough for the families all around you to hear. She can feel your hole fluttering around her fingers and she quickly fucks harder into you, determined to have you gush all over her fingers. With one last pinch to your clit, your orgasm crashes over you.

“That’s my fucking girl.”

Your body convulses for a moment while Ellie’s fingers still piston in and out of your cunt, chasing you through your high.

She presses a kiss to your head as her fingers come to a halt, “good girl. Such a good fucking girl.”

Your cum is glistening on her fingers while she brings her hand up to her mouth, sucking two fingers into her mouth. Her eyes bore into yours while she suggestively licks on her fingers, maintaining eye contact as she holds out her third finger for you to wrap your lips around.

You comply, sucking your sweet taste off of her finger and moaning when it hits your tastebuds. Ellie watches you with blown pupils and chokes out a whimper when you nibble on the pad of her finger.

You pull off with a pop, “this was a really good second date.”

Hell fucking yeah it was.

[peachesofteal]

ok i have a question- for the dead disco fics, if there was a situation where ghost had to choose between reader and soap, who would he choose? idk why im thinking abt this LOL

Hey babe, what is wrong with you? (I love this so much it scratches my angst brain just right) Why do you want to feel this pain? (I too, want to feel this pain...let’s indulge)

Ghost x Soap x female reader Dead Disco - verse AU - not canon to the actual story. Warnings-tags: Angst. Inferred character death. Darling's usual (eating issues, depression, anxiety, despair, self destructive behaviors)

The bed is too big, as it always has been. As it always was before, and during. And as it always will be for now on, too. Your legs spread across it, kicking and swishing across pristine sheets like you're swimming in them, like you're drowning. Drowning, is more apt. Drowning is more akin to these feelings that swimming, certainly. Drowning is how you feel right now, smothered in your loss, lungs full of water, burning from the salt of your own tears. You're at the bottom of the ocean, lost beneath where the sunlight doesn't reach, far beyond the swell of the waves. Drowning is what it feels like, when your heart clenches in your chest and your stomach heaves it's bile free. Drowning is how you would describe this black, bottomless hole that's developed soul, the one that pulls you deeper and deeper with every breath. Drowning. You've drowned. And no one was there to pull you to shore. To safety. No one was there to save you.

"I'm home!" Your bag falls to the floor with a thud as you toss your keys on the island, loosening your jacket and heading towards the dining area of the flat. "Holy shit, wait until I tell you about my day. My boss was on one today, she was being a crazy a-" the words die on your tongue when you finally look up and see the expression on Johnny's face. At first glance, one might call it grim, but for those who know him, who know to look closer, you see the red ting to his eye lids, the rub of drier skin around his nose. He's been crying. "What's going on?" you ask, looking from him to where Simon sits, stone faced. Immobile. Neither of them answer you at first. "Hello?" The knot that's been loosely tied in your stomach tightens. Simon nods at the free chair next to him. "Sit, darling."

There are two boxes, in your bathroom. They sit, full of things, clothing, items, trinkets, pieces of memories, pieces of love. They idle next to your bathtub, waiting, watching you, every time you drag yourself towards the toilet to vomit, or whenever you muster up the strength to look at your toothbrush. The boxes have sharpie scrawled across them, big loopy letters that almost look like mouths, almost look like they could grow teeth and talk to you, or eat you alive with what's inside of them. You supposed, they could. If you were to open them, and actually look at the things inside, they would consume you. Chew you up. Spit you out.

"I- I don't understand." You take a half step towards Johnny, who visibly flinches, face torn fractured with despair, while Simon's lips press into a hard line before he speaks. "We will make sure you're taken care of, we-" His voice is cold. So, so cold it scratches at your heart, pin pricks of icicles working their way beneath your ribs. "Stop." you shake your head, willing yourself to focus. What is he saying? What does he mean? "Simon, what... wh-what does that mean?" "Darling we're so, so sorry." Johnny's voice, is the opposite of cold. It's molten. Hot, and burning red with orange, thick with something you think is sadness. "You are sorry." You repeat it, numbly. You're not crying, which is a surprise to yourself and probably the two of them too. Your brain is really working now, hard. It's compartmentalizing and organizing and shoving little things away, burying others beneath mountains of sand and locking memories into boxes that you'll never be able to open. "You can't. You can't just leave me... you... you promised." Simon stands completely still, while Johnny shifts his weight nervously, fingers tangling with one another as he watches you like a hawk. Like a solider. "This will be better... for everyone." He tries to soothe you, tries to calm you, even from where he lurks, five feet away. Simon offers you nothing. "I don't understand, everything was fine. I thought... we were okay." Simon finally moves, shaking his head with a no while you watch, mouth ajar.

The boxes have been ripped into tatters now. They lay in shreds across the things in the bathtub, covering two t shirts of Johnny's, a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie of Simon's. Your silk bathrobe, and giant fleece blanket from the couch. There's also a book, a collection of photographs, a few pieces of jewelry. Worn index cards with recipes on them, Johnny's mum's, and a comic book, that Simon used to keep in his drawer of the bedside table. The final touch is the secret pack of cigarettes, the ones Simon used to keep in the closet, sans the one in your mouth. You inhale it slowly, breathing in the tobacco and the nicotine and the fumes of the lighter fluid, the entire contained dumped onto of the collection of things in the tub, waiting for your final flick. When it comes, you stay perched on the edge on the bath, barely interested, unmoving, as the fire rages. As it consumes.

"You fucking promised!" You scream. You scream it over and over until your throat is hoarse and Johnny looks panicked. Simon grips him roughly, sliding him half behind his body, as if to protect him from you. As if he thinks you'd hurt him. They both watch you with stricken faces, hunters tracking a wounded animal, and your breaths come in short bursts as tears track down your face. "You said you love me." It's barely a whisper, mournful and slow, and they both hear it. "We do." Johnny croaks. "We did." Simon counters, and you flinch. "But this is what's best, for all of us. It was always going to be him, darling. You've known this." It was always going to be him. It was always... going to be Johnny and Simon, over you. It was always going to be them, and not you. The truth stings, burns, bites. It twists it's wicked claws around your heart and tugs and tears until there's nothing left. You've known this. You idiot. How could you possibly believe, in the end, you'd still be in this equation? You'd still be a part of this? How could you possibly believe, that after everything, they'd still love you? Still want you? Simon's mouth moves, but you hear no sound. You hear nothing, as you turn on your heel and barricade yourself in the bedroom. You hear nothing, as they knock, and knock, you hear nothing, until the wood stops vibrating, and the front door open and closes with a final thud. It was always going to be them. You've known this.

"Bloody hell." Gaz whistles, eyes locked on the screen. Johnny wipes a towel across the back of his neck, mopping up the sheen of sweat that lingers there while Simon saunters through the rec room doors. "Christ. Didn't ya two live near there?" "Live where?" Johnny frowns, looking up. There's a heli eye view of a burning building on the news, it's entire structure engulfed in flames, firemen barely making a dent. The camera switches to a ground reporter, a pretty woman with a serious face, who's explaining that arson investigators believe the fire started on the ninth floor, where there's still a single person trapped, unable to be rescued so far by exhaustive efforts. Something glitches in Johnny's brain, something short circuiting while he blinks, and breathes, and blinks, trying to wrap his mind around what he's seeing. The ninth floor. Someone trapped. Didn't ya two live near there? The ninth- It's almost unrecognizable, but he knows. Of course he knows. The ninth floor, the ninth floor- His heart stops in his chest, and he turns frantically to Simon, who stands like a statue in the doorway, eyes wide and frozen. "No. Nonononono-" Johnny whispers. He stumbles, away from Simon, away from Gaz, eyes not leaving the television while he drops to his knees. "She- Simon." Simon doesn't answer, just stands, broken. Empty. Like a ghost. He has no words. He has nothing. And neither does Johnny.

[emlovslennon]

omgg last night I dreamed about supeeer cute soft dom george being very affectionate and giving making love to reader making her forget all her insecurities whispering in her ear a lot of worship, it's my first request and don't speak English very well but I'm here hehe love ya!

GUYS IM ALIVE HOLY FUCK BALLS !!! Anyway HEHEHHEHE evil laughter back to my mischievousness (mental illness). Also I LOVE YOU TOO

-

Era: 1965 cuz i feel like it

Audible moan.

-

You had been feeling extremely insecure ever since you got back from the opening of the the Beatles new movie, “Help!” You saw how in the newspapers they were saying incredibly cruel things about you, especially about how tight your black dress was when you wore it to the premiere. It was, “Name the Beatles wife with the worst taste?” Or “That dress certainly doesn’t look flattering on her!” Like it was some joke. You felt tears brim your eyes just thinking about it. You’d constantly look in the mirror and pinch at your stomach and thighs, you just couldn’t understand why you couldn’t be as beautiful as Jane or Maureen or Cynthia.

“Love, I’m back! Love? What’s wrong?” George said, he had just gotten back from a meeting about an upcoming album, so he unfortunately couldn’t take you along since it was a private meeting, not a public one. You were laying on your shared bed crying, with a newspaper at your side. The one that completely wrecked your self esteem. George caught on and picked up, in complete anger, he ripped the newspaper up and threw it in the trash.

“Absolute bloody rubbish! I hate those damn newspapers, y/n, come ‘ere love.” He said, quite angry, but gentle once he called your name. He couldn’t believe someone could say that about his wife. He thought you were the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. How could anyone not agree? They must be blind.

“Love, don’t listen to those bloody bastards, you are the most beautiful and lovely woman I ever laid eyes and have ever met. If they don’t believe that, then they must not have eyes.” He whispers in your ear, playing with your hair. Your tears at this point subsided and you looked up at him, he gave you a grin and kissed your forehead. You know this probably wasn’t the best timing, but you just couldn’t resist when he looks at you with nothing but pure love in his eyes.

“George, could you maybe show me how beautiful I am?” You say quietly, George winks at you in a joking manner and wiggles his eyebrows which make you giggle. George slowly positioned you to get you to lay on your back while he slowly got on top of you.

“I mean it when I say you look stunning in anything.” He whispers, playing with the hem of your black night gown, it was short and only went down to almost the end of your inner thighs. He looked at you for permission and you nodded, as he slowly lifted up your night gown, leaving completely exposed. You usually didn’t bother with under garments when you were going to sleep, you just didn’t feel the need for it.

“You amaze me every time, y’know that?” He praised, as his hands went to your breasts as he pulled you into a passionate kiss, leaving you breathless. George lifted himself up to take off his black long sleeve shirt and the pair of black pants he wore with it, as he went back down to kiss your neck, he hand slowly wandered down to your core, lightly rubbing causing you to whimper. George grinned at the sound, George loved nothing more than when you made noises for him, he doesn’t even really care when it comes to him getting off it’s just as long as you do he’s good.

“Can I?” He asks, his fingers nearing and circling your hole, you nod frantically as he giggles at your reaction, he slowly inserts two fingers into you. You bite your lip and throw your head back into the pillows with the intrusion. But you couldn’t lie, his fingers do wonders. He slowly thrusts them in and out as he watches you whimper and moan, he usually never goes fast unless you tell him to, he’s just never really been that kind of person. Whereas someone like John is the complete opposite.

“F-faster, George!” You moan out, causing George to kiss and suck on your neck harder than he did before as he went faster, your juices starting to seep down to the sheets as the noises coming from your core begin to echo through out the room. You felt the tightness and heat in your belly about to burst and you knew that only meant one thing.

“George-I’m-“ you couldn’t even finish your sentence as you felt as if you were sitting stars as your orgasm hit. George never wanted to admit it, but he absolutely adored when you orgasm your a shaking and moaning mess for him, you look absolutely wrecked just from his fingers.

“Are you ready? Do you need a minute?” He asks, one thing to note about George, is that he is huge on consent, he would never, ever, do something that you didn’t like or something that he thought could hurt you. It would break him into a million pieces if that happened.

“Yes, please!” You say shakily, George nods as he kissed your forehead, slowly lining himself up and entering you.

“You’re always so good for me, always. No one could ever compare.” He whispers lovingly, kissing your earlobe as he slowly thrusts in and out of you.

“Your noises are to die for, you are to die for, i can’t get enough of you.” George loved praising you during sex, he always took pride in doing so.

“G-George, please.” You whisper, George looks up at you, with a questioning face.

“Please, faster! Please!” You moaned out, George gave you a smile and kissed your cheek as he went faster, but not too fast, just slightly faster than the pace he was going. You moan out as he brings his fingers down to your clit and rubs circles round it, making your legs shake. You could feel your orgasm getting closer and creeping up on you like it was the grim reaper.

“George! Im gonna cum, please!” You cried out, all the worry, sadness, and insecurities you were experiencing early had completely disappeared. They were nowhere to be found. George always managed to make your worries and fears go away, it’s like he was magic. But to be fair, he pretty much was.

“Aw, come on pretty girl, cum on me, go on.” George groaned, feeling his own orgasm creep up on him, and before you know it, it wasn’t before too long both of you came together. You were shaking and moaning for quite a bit even after he pulled out and kissed your face all over. George laid on his side and brought the covers over both of you.

“Did that make you feel any better?” George asked, his hand holding yours, you look up at him with a smile.

“What was I upset about again?”

-

THIS WAS KINDA CHEESY BUT WOOOOAH I LOVED IT

[vitamin-cunt]

hiii im a new follower and can i request a dabi x fem!domme!reader

format is full fic but if you want can you also add some headcanons at the end

kinks to add

•sadisim (reader

•masochism (dabi)

•dumbification

•frotteurism (ok idk if you make your fics automatically match with your blog theme [hospital for horny mfs like me] but can you make it so that dabi is a paitient of a hospital for sub people and reader is his most favorite doctor so theres alot of intimacy)

•master and pet themes (reader makes dabi wear a collar, very very short maid dress with frilly black lingerie, cat ears and a cat tail butt plug)

and can you make it so that the reader has a genital type quirk were reader can give people the genitals of the opposite gender and do it to herself without removing their original genital (ex. reader gives dabi a vagina and clit while still having a dick)

A/N: anon I'm in love with you. I'm on one knee rn, you have no idea (Tired asf gonna go proofread this in the morning)

CW: As stated in the ask above, GN! Pronouns, cock mentioned (can be interpreted as a strap tho), Dabi has a pussy at some point (idc, idc there's the door), fingering said pussy

Making a broken man of Dabi

What the fuck was he doing here?

Like, seriously, why the fuck was he here???

It was a strange situation, really. A hospital for incredibly lewd individuals to seek treatment-

And he of all people was here?

He didn't have lewd desires, just-

Well, fuck, he couldn't have normal sex but that didn't require an intervention or whatever this was.

He ran his tongue over his teeth as he rolled over in his hospital bed. Even the uniform was weird-

He was in a maid outfit. A black, short-ass maid dress.

"Awww, look at him blush~ Let me have him, I think we're gonna like each other."

His face burned furiosuly at the memory. When he was first admitted, he'd been uncooperative with pretty much everyone. The "doctors,"(if that's what you could even call them), the nurses, even other patients, because he wasn't like them, dammit!

He wasn't some sex-obsessed lunatic that fucked any hole in sight, he just-

He liked certain things. A lot more than most people did, but that was fine. At least he thought it was fine.

He'd scared off all but one of the staff.

You.

He couldn't make you disappear and, for whatever reason, he'd come to appreciate your presence.

You treated him more human than anyone did in this God-forsaken hell-hole. You checked on him, catered to his needs, listened to his moans and groans about this place...

He swallowed down the excitement as he realized you would be coming in today.

The one thing that set you apart from the staff was that you knew what buttons to press with him.

"I think this thong will look so cute on you~"

"You did such a good job touching yourself for me!"

"Be a good boy and lift your ass up just a little higher for me."

It was like you could read his mind.

Yeah, that was Dabi's "problem." He liked being a toy.

Your toy.

He'd always known he had a thing for being treated like shit, but he tried to keep it on the down-low.

Too bad Daddy dearest found out.

A knock came at his door, and before he could even sit up, you were entering the room, an oddly wide grin on your face.

"How's my favorite patient?"

He narrows his eyes and rolls over in his bed to face you and the door. In your hands was a duffel bag of god knows what. "You're only this happy when you have shit to try on me," he says, eyeing the bag and trying to guess what was making those bulges from every angle in it.

You laugh and ignore him despite his bite of a response. "God, Dabi, what did I tell you about keeping these blinds open?" You walk over to his window blinds and sharply close them shut, leaving the room in the eerie purple glow of the lights above. "How are you going to masturbate with any privacy in this place?"

"What, you want me in the dark all the fucking time?" He hoists himself up on one elbow and follows you as you unpack your supplies. "Yeah, the one thing that gets me hard is a dank-ass hospital room."

"Mmm, just that? Not your favorite doctor?" You fake a pout, hand halfway in the duffel. "Even after I stretched that ass last night? Even after I played with those tits?"

He throws his head back, outwardly in exasperation and inwardly with a humming arousal in his chest. Even his low sigh could be confused for an excited groan.

And one wouldn't be wrong in thinking that.

"Why do you always..." he covers his hot face, trying to put into words what he wanted to say without sounding absolutely pathetic.

But, how could one get any more pathetic laying in a maid outfit in a rehabilitation hospital for the most debauched and depraved sex-addicts?

He swallowed and began again. "You're always describing my body like...like...you know I don't have those parts, right?"

After a moment of silence, he peeks between his hand to find you smiling down at the cat ears and cat butt-plug in your hands.

Your favorites.

When you look up, its with a craze in your eyes. And why should he be surprised?

Only the most depraved could work here.

"You're saying it would make more sense to use those words if you had those..."parts?" You tilt your head innocently. Well, as innocently as someone could with a bottle of lube in their hands now accompanying the lewd accessories.

"I guess," he muttered, his hand sliding down to his jaw and muffle his voice.

He was glad you couldn't see his cock twitching to life beneath his skirt. He loved that face. The look in your eyes right before you fuck him dumb.

"Can I show you a trick?" you ask, approaching his bed and laying your "materials" next to him. "You know the position, get in it, baby," you command, before he can answer your first question.

It always takes some time to follow your first order, but he always does it. Even now, with his head buried in his folded arms and his ass in the air, exposing his thong.

"Happy?" he bites, even through the muffle of his pillow.

He hears you donning your gloves and next came the sound of lube squirting from a bottle.

"We'll tell the insurance this was a prostate exam."

A cold finger pushes itself against the entrance of his hole and then inside him, sliding in easily.

He groans in arousal and discomfort. He guessed it wasn't entirely an entirely normal thing to prefer the feeling of surgical gloves to human fingers, but why give this hospital further justification to keep him here?

"Don't rock, baby, I've told you this before."

Right. He was already fucking himself back against your fingers despite only one being inside.

Your other gloved hand rubs his ass, lifting up the skirt to see the skin beneath it.

"You're still a little red from yesterday, so I'm not gonna spank you today."

He simply nods, hypnotized when you slip in a second finger. And then a third, and, fuck, even a fourth.

This couldn't even count as prepping when you were hitting his g-spot so earnestly that you had him moaning into his pillow. But he had, notably, reduced his writhing because, dammit, you made him want to be obedient.

And just like that, you'd slipped your fingers out, leaving him feeling empty.

"Fuck, if you're gonna prep, then fucking prep, don't..." he swallows as he realized he'd crossed a line.

Never back talk.

"I-I just mean...because it's like you're teasing..." he stutters out weak follow-up after weak follow-up, trying to backtrack from his outburst.

But, to his shock, you don't get angry at him. You laugh, in fact. Soon, something metal was pressing against him and after a moment, the metal plug end of the cattail slips inside him and slotted itself perfectly as he'd grown accustomed to.

Even then he arches his back and pants.

What were you playing at?

Any other day you would have punished him to senseless tears for the way he talked to you, but now?

He's pulled from his pondering when you adorn him with the cat ears.

"On your back, Kitty," you say, walking away to change your gloves. He obeys, wondering if you were going to come back with a cock ring like you'd had last night.

But, besides the fresh pair of gloves, you'd come back empty-handed.

He was really concerned now, especially as you mounted the bed with a grin that left his thighs trembling and his mind buzzing.

"Fuck's going on?" He growled, testing his luck with his mouthiness.

You don't answer, instead choosing to lean forward and press your lips to his. He'd kissed you before, but this...

Why was he suddenly hot? Like, burning, he...he hadn't activated his quirk, had he?

Suddenly, a buzzing emerged from between his legs. Then, a dampness in his thong. Finally, a sudden wave of inexplicable pleasure.

"Wh-what the fuck!? Why do I- mmmmh, it's not supposed to feel wet down there, what did you- ahhh- what did you do???"

He squirmed beneath you, the hospital bed creaking loudly as it usually did during your encounters. His face burned as a new warmth overtook his loins, one that he'd never felt before.

He rubbed his thighs together, trying to rid himself of the incessant ache, but you place your knees between them before he can really do anything.

"Why're you so freaked out?" You say above him, removing your scrub top. "It's just sex therapy!"

"Bullshit." His eyes scan your bare chest and abdomen, having seen it for the first time ever, really.

You laugh lightly through your nose. "Okay...Just sit still while your master plays with your little pussy, okay?"

"I told you, it's weird when- ah- haaah~ fuck!" His eyes went wide as your fingers slipped past his thong and inside him.

But not his ass.

All he heard was the slick squelch of your fingers penetrating him, and before he knew it, he was arched against his bed, gasping and reaching for the thin, cheap sheets above him.

He couldn't stop the moans, the uncharacteristic whines, the sounds coming from his- his-

"Your pussy's dripping for me, baby~" you laugh.

You gave him a pussy. What was worse was that you gave him a pussy and he liked it.

He could feel you scissoring in his walls, just like you did in his ass but it was different, this wasn't the same, it would never be the same-

He covered his face, you couldn't see him like this. Fine, make him wear the tail and the ears, keep him in the outfit, watch him roll his hips against your hand as you fold your fingers inside him-

But he'd be damned if he let you see the blissed tears running down his burning cheeks.

"Are you gonna cum, already?" You tease, noting his tells. His moans turning to breathless pants and a repeat of soft "uhn, uhn, uhn", his thighs trembling, his covering his face. "I didn't even get my dick inside you yet!"

You inside him? When he could feel every movement of your fingers, the aching of his- his clit-

He couldn't take it, even the idea of being filled-

"Not yet, Kitty." You removed your fingers from inside him, once again rendering him empty.

But it wasn't the same, this time, this time he felt as though he could cry. The tears fell faster now, he couldn't even hide them.

What were you doing to him?

He was crying because you wouldn't keep fingering his pussy!?

Furthermore, he was rejoicing when you'd slipped a bit of your cock inside him, his pussy clenching around nothing but air and your tip.

This is crazy, this is insane-

"Ohhh shitttt, ohhh shittt~ yes, fill me up, fill me up!"

He sounded insane-

"I know it's against protocol to directly penetrate your patients, but for you?" You whisper as you lean down and it let him get adjusted. "I couldn't let anyone else be the first person to use this pussy~"

You quickly grow impatient of letting him adjust and it shows because soon, light rocking turns to full-on thrusts in and out of him, fuck the slapping noise it made, fuck the squelching noise it made, fuck how loud he got-

Fuck, he was so loud-

He doesn't know what to do with himself but sit back and take it. Take getting pounded mercilessly like a little bitch.

"Seems like after tonight, you'll fit in with the other patients, hm?" You grab his jaw and turn his dissenting face back in your direction. "Think I trained my Kitty well, don't you?"

He could barely understand you, not with you grabbing the tops of his thighs and pulling his hips down into yours as you slam up into him.

"Tell me you deserve to be here, baby. Tell me you're just a depraved sex slut like the rest of the patients."

He wanted to reply, he really wanted to, but how could he when his tongue was sticking out of his mouth and his eyes were stuck in the back of his head?

"C'mon, baby, I know you can do it. Tell me you're no different, c'mon, let me hear it, baby."

"Haaaah, I'm n-no different! I-I'm the same! I deserve this!"

It wasn't much, but even you knew that he would cum before you could get more out of him, at least at the rate you were going. And, frankly, you didn't want to stop.

In fact, you wanted to take things a step further.

You grab his cock, the same cock that he'd barely registered still having, and began stroking.

And that was all that it took for Dabi, because seconds later he was clenching around you as tight as he could and cumming. It was almost like a double orgasm, what with his spurting white cum onto his black dress, and cumming clenched around you. White hot shocks sent his paralyzed body into brief jerking motions and the pleasure was immense beyond his understanding.

He would deal with the implications of this event when he wasn't still coming down from his high.

"Remember this the next time you complain about how I describe you, Dabi. Because you might just get what you wish for."

[thursdaygxrls]

thin ice — four

part one | part two | part three | part four

summary — kitty is yet again dragged to a social gathering she would rather not attend. the bait this time? weed!

paring — uni hockey player!peter parker x fem!(journalist)!reader

disclaimer — who is expecting me to own peter parker by now?? bc i don’t

warnings — reader is referred to as ‘kitty,’ weed, slightly inexperienced reader (experienced peter, no smut yet im sorry), possible ooc

Days like these were the ones Kitty craved: hazy, chilly spring weather that resembled fall, except that dying leaves were replaced by cherry-red buds, and flowers bloomed through blades of grass. It was one of those days with no responsibilities to fill her precious hours—the ones that were spent scrolling through Pinterest and reading. She was stretched haphazardly along her bed, still dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt with holes in the armpits. The blinds were still closed, so the sudden beam of light next to her startled her.

“You love interrupting my dark-dwelling time,” she hissed as MJ entered the room. Sticking out her tongue, MJ closed the door behind her and sealed off the obnoxious light, much to Kitty’s relief.

“I’m sorry, my sun-hating princess,” MJ spoke dramatically as she rummaged through her bag, “But, I come bearing gifts.”

At this, Kitty perked up, swiping out of Project Makeover and sitting up to devote her full attention to her roomate. From her bag, MJ produced two plastic-wrapped chocolate-chip cookies and tossed them to bed. The girl pounced on them, immediately tearing into the plastic on one of the packs.

“I forgive you,” she said before biting into the treat.

“Thank God,” MJ replied in dramatic relief. Ease settled over the room as MJ removed her jacket and went about unpacking her things. Kitty, now finished with her first cookie, tossed the used plastic to the trash can across the room (and missed horribly). 

“What’ve you been up to this lovely Friday?” She asked her freckled friend, who was currently changing out of her cable knit sweater. 

“Oh, you know, class,” MJ responded as she slid a Stevie Nicks shirt over her head, “Some people still have class on Fridays.”

“That must be heartbreaking,” Kitty hummed sarcastically, “Anything else?”

“Oh, yeah,” MJ’s movements were smooth as she went through her bag, “I had lunch with Harry after class.”

“Was the dining hall romantic?” Kitty questioned with a smile.

“Totally,” MJ responded with a laugh, “The black-bean burgers are basically aphrodisiacs. Anyways, he invited us out to Hot Rock around eight, so I was thinking we could get dinner–”

“No, thanks,” Kitty intercepted, bringing her legs up closer to her torso and flattening her lips to a line, “I’m not leaving the dorm today.”

“If you had it your way, you’d do that every day,” MJ groaned.

“And?’ Kitty quirked a brow, causing another grumble to leave her counterpart.

“Do you realize how much I say ‘no’ to stuff?” She continued, “‘Kitty, wanna go to a hockey game?’ No. ‘Kitty, wanna go to a frat party?’ No. Our entire relationship exists on the basis of you wanting to do stuff and me trying to refuse.”

“But you still went,” MJ raised her brows hopefully, “To both things. And it’s not like it’s just going to be Harry, he said some other people would be there.”

“Oh, great, other people, you know how much I love social gatherings where I don’t know anyone.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“You know Peter,” MJ suggested. Kitty hadn’t seen Peter in a while. ‘A while,’ in her case, was a week. She’d gotten some semi-regular texts from him (cat memes and open invites to hang out) but hadn’t seen him since the frat party.

“Is it the best use of their time to be at Hot Rock when the semi-finals are two days away?” Kitty asked.

“No, probably not, but,” MJ’s smile, which had been dimming, came back with full vibrance, “But we can reap the benefits of their deviant behavior.”

“Are the benefits better than chocolate chip cookies?” She hummed.

“Pre-rolls and a bong,” MJ wiggled her fingers in a tamer version of jazz hands. Kitty seemed to deflate with a loud sigh.

“I hate that you make me do things.”

Hot Rock existed on the older, suburban side of campus. Right behind one of the major dining halls was a small, hidden space that hit the blind spot of the security cameras in the area. It wasn’t a rock so much as an artificial slab of stone with a metal pipe attached that spewed hot steam. It was connected to the heating system in the dining hall, but also served as a popular spot for stoners. A few of these man-made smoke spots were scattered around campus, but this one was the most popular, mainly because this rock was always much hotter than the others.

Kitty’s breath appeared in small puffs in the night air and she and MJ walked around the corner of the dining hall. It was spring, and the weather was getting warmer, but there was still a bit of frost. As they shuffled down a small slope, the rock revealed itself, decorated with about four people, one of them being Harry.

“MJ!” He nearly fell over himself scrambling towards the pair. He pressed a small kiss to her lips and wrapped an arm around her in greeting. MJ giggled, choosing to ignore Kitty’s gagging face.

“Kitty-cat!” Harry directed his grinning face to her, “I’m so glad MJ got you out of your tree.”

“I almost wish you’d just call me ‘bitch’ instead of that,” she replied. Harry, not losing any vigor, laughed.

“I know what you need.” He wagged his brows as he reached into the breast pocket of his flannel. He produced a mini pre-rolled joint with a proud grin, “Kitty needs her catnip.”

“I’m gonna let that one slide,” she said, and he simply chuckled. His eyes moved from hers, and somehow his impossibly bright smile widened. Kitty turned and was met with a familiar pair of hazel eyes.

“I’m a big fan of catnip, too,” Peter grinned, sliding down to meet the rest of the group.

“Hey, Peter,” Harry let go of MJ for a moment to give Peter a half-hug. Peter’s eyes, however, never let go of Kitty. He held her gaze with ease.

“Can we sit? My ass is cold,” MJ grumbled lightly as Harry took his post next to her.

“Of course, of course,” was Harry’s hurried reply. The four found spots on the rock, Harry returning to his original spot and taking MJ with him. Kitty settled in a small nook where the slab met a natural rock formation, and, as if she was a magnetic pole, Peter sat next to her. A few awkward introductions were shared with the others at the rock, though, it was clear they were all at least a few hits into Harry’s pre-rolls. 

“So,” Peter’s voice cracked through the silence, “We keep finding each other, don’t we?”

“You keep finding me,” Kitty corrected.

“Same difference,” he shrugged. Wordlessly, he slipped his backpack from his shoulder and set it down in front of him. He worked in surprising order as he removed the items: a grinder, a small, rolled-up plastic bag, a green bong that had seen better days.

“Are student athletes supposed to be smoking?” She asked. For once, his gaze wasn’t focused on her, but on the contents before him.

“Helps with nerves,” he said, grabbing the baggy, “It’s medical, y’know.”

“Hm, I bet,” she replied. He worked with diligence: his long, slender fingers plucked a chunk of bud from the bag and trapped it in the grinder. The sleeves of his black long sleeve were rolled up, revealing his wrist that tensed lightly when he ground the bud. She’d never quite noticed how strong his hands looked—veiny and taught, likely from the hours upon hours of hockey practice. Then came the realization that she was staring, which pulled her attention away from him and to the others on the rock. Though there weren’t many people, pockets of conversation were created: MJ and Harry, who were cuddled up and passing a joint, two other members of the hockey team and a girl with shaggy blonde hair, and, of course, her and Peter. 

“Alright,” Peter hummed in satisfaction as he packed the bowl. He grabbed a red lighter from the front pocket of his jeans and finally looked at Kitty. He held the bong out for her with one of those easy, boyish smiles, “Wanna do the honors, Y/n?”

Peter seemed to be good at evoking emotions from her. Annoyance, frustration, confusion, and now, prickly embarrassment. She licked her lips, looking from the bong and back to him.

“Um,” she let out a small cough, “I’m…not sure how to?”

She wasn’t new to smoking. There was the occasional joint she and MJ would indulge in, or maybe she would take a hit off cart at one of the parties she was dragged to. She’d just hadn’t gotten the chance to hit a bong before—a fact that didn’t bother her until she was here, staring at Peter. She hated her reply and the way she stumbled with her words. She hated that she had nothing better to say. She hated that she had released blood into the water.

“You haven’t done this before?” He grinned. Her jaw clenched at the way he said that. Kitty, in response, sucked her teeth.

“Have you never smoked before?” He cocked his head.

“No, I have, just not this,” she sighed, a slight aggravated clip to her words. Peter must’ve noticed because his gloating grin softened.

“That’s alright,” his voice was more mellow now, “That’s okay, everyone has a first time.”

This persona, the calmer one he adapted when he knew she was getting pissed off, may have pissed her off even more. If he wasn’t being an asshole, it was harder to be annoyed with him, which made her annoyed with him, which made her annoyed with herself.

“Okay,” she said, a cleansing breath of chilled spring air filling her lungs.

“Okay?” He repeated, “You want to try?”

Kitty glanced at MJ and Harry. They weren’t doing anything graphic, but they were still all over each other, giggling and whispering. She turned back to Peter and nodded.

“You sure?” He raised a brow.

“Gimme,” she groaned, taking the glass bong from his hands. He let out a small, breathy chuckle and nodded.

“Okay, so,” he sat up, “I’m gonna light it, you breathe in through the mouth right here. I’ll pull the bowl for you and you keep breathing in, okay?”

Kitty nodded, her lips descending on the mouthpiece. A sudden flash of panic struck her as he flicked the lighter. Did she look stupid? Was she being stupid? Why did she care? Peter lit the bowl, and she did as he said, sucking in a deep drag. The bong bubbled to life and milky smoke flooded the tube.

“Good, good,” Peter encouraged as he pulled the bowl, “Keep sucking in—there you go, just like that.”

She’d been doing fine until he’d spoken. His words, meant as innocent encouragement, sent blood rushing to her face. Her scalp burned as her head reared back and ragged coughs escaped her. Smoke left her lips in puffs, like dust being stirred from an old book. Peter patted her back with one hand and rummaged through his bag with another.

“That happens,” he spoke, unphased by her continuous coughing. He took a metal water bottle decorated in stickers in various states of wear from his bag and unscrewed the lid.

“Here, drink,” he brought it to her lips and she immediately sucked down the water. It was cold against her burning throat. She focused on how cool it was, hoping it would also subdue the burning in her face. A few gulps later, Kitty was back to a semi-normal state. She took in deep breaths, swirling in oxygen with the cannabis in her lungs. 

“That was a big-ass hit. Good job,” Peter chuckled, “When was the last time you smoked?”

“I don’t know, a few weeks ago? And thank you,” Kitty replied. There wasn’t a hint of snark in her words, which was highly unusual. The afterburn of her influx of new feelings was still there.

“That oughta do it,” he took the bong from her, “I mean, you can totally have more, but your tolerance is probably pretty low, and the hit you just took looked more like three.”

“Yeah, that oughta do it,” she coughed out. He eyed her, suspicious of her lack of sass, before lighting the bowl for himself.

The bong caught up with her within ten minutes. There was a low vibration in her body, one that pulsed in her fingertips and warmed her. Her vision was a bit more narrow now, like she was viewing movie through her vision. Her mind bubbled, and when her eyes caught a glimpse of the sky, she leaned back with astonished glee.

It wasn’t often that you saw stars in the sky on this side of New York. Usually, the city lights blocked out anything non-artificial. But here, a mile or so away from the more prominent lights, she was able to see the glimmer of distant stars. It was captivating, really, and she could’ve stared at them for hours. Maybe she did. People buzzed around her without her recognition. Even Peter seemed to settle into a comfortable silence next to her. 

“Do you remember that one episode of Hannah Montana where Miley moves into a new house and there’s a pizza oven? Like, one of those wood ovens you put pizza in. A pizza oven? Yeah?” She asked, glancing in Peter’s direction. He seemed to only slightly register the question before looking at her with a cocked brow.

“No,” he replied.

“Oh,” she hummed, “What about the one where—it’s the third episode, I think—the one where Oliver—no, it’s the second episode—the one where Oliver is in love with Hannah Montana, but he doesn’t know it’s Miley, so Miley and Lilly are like ‘oh, no!’” 

“No,” he repeated. His voice wasn’t harsh, though. It was soft, maybe even curious.

“It’s good,” she said, “Real good. Real good.” 

It was around then that the stars began to lull her to sleep. There was something comfortable about this moment: the heat of the rock, the stars, the weed in her system. She drifted off for a moment and was quickly awoken by a gentle shake.

“Y/n?” Peter called lightly, “Are you sleepy?”

His hand was on her arm. His hand was on her arm. Her eyes settled on that before she could even begin to process his words. His hand was lovely, truly, with its web of veins, the slender fingers that warmed her skin. She looked up to him and smiled.

“Hey!” Was her cheery reply. He laughed at this and nodded. Kitty cocooned inside herself once more as he turned away and called out to someone on the other side of the rock. She heard Harry, then MJ, then Peter again. It sounded like hearing a foreign language as the spoke.

“Would you like to sleep in your bed instead of this rock?” Peter asked. Kitty, still cocooned, sprung forward a bit.

“Yes,” she responded confidently. He couldn’t help but smile at her tone. He packed away his bag swiftly and stood, offering a hand to Kitty.

“You think I can’t stand up? Oh, I can stand up—I’m an olympic stander,” she mumbled, rejecting his hand. This side of her was something Peter had never experienced. He was used to snippy comments and sharp replies, but the inebriated, bumbling Kitty was an entirely different person. He liked it. A lot.

They began their trek back to Kitty’s dorm in silence. It was comfortable like this: quiet interrupted by the occasional off-key hum by the girl. It wasn’t a very far walk, only five minutes or so, and when they reached the front, Peter’s tight grin loosened a bit.

“Hey, I wanted to ask you something,” he said, his hand gently catching her arm. In this state, she wasn’t able to deny the electric current that was sent through her nervous system. Kitty shivered as she met his eyes.

“I know you’re not in the right headspace for this, so I’ll ask you again later, but…” he trailed off. He looked away from her, and she caught the way his throat bobbed slightly. This lasted for only a moment before he was making eye contact again, “Do you wanna come to semis?”

That wasn’t the question she expected. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Instead of responding, she stared blankly at him.

“It’s not here, it’s actually kind of far away,” he was rambling now, “Well, not super far, it’s in New Jersey. It’s sort of late notice, so I know you might not want to go, and you have your own shit to worry about, too, so—”

“This is very weird,” Kitty interrupted.

“What?” Peter stopped, looking to her with a quirked brow.

“You’re acting nervous and talking a lot. Weird,” she said.

“Yeah, well, I am nervous, and I’m a little high, and you’re really hot, so there’s just a lot going on up here.” He gestured to his head. Her eyes were blank for several seconds before they sparked in recognition.

“Oh—oh.” Her expression changed rapidly, eventually landing on something akin to realization. Silence swelled between them for a moment before it was broken by one word: “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Peter repeated.

“Maybe,” she nodded in agreement. His lips tugged into a boyish smile once more.

“Okay, Y/n,” he grinned, “Maybe.”

a/n — (in the voice of that one meme) heyy….how y’all doin??? okay so im sorry that this update is months late, college has been a lot. it’s been fun tho!! like, i think im the happiest ive ever been. anyways, im sorry if this update doesn’t fit as well with the others, im trying to get back into the groove of writing, forgive me 🙏 love u guys!!

taglist

@reidslovely @awezomezauce @tarzinnia @fr3akho3 @multilovebot @collywobbl @naok-iyuu @kay-i-guess @littlexscarletxwitch @ujimoo

[cmncisspnandmore]

One Night Stand; Part 5

Pairings: Simon x Reader

Warnings: Hospitals

A/n: Heres another sub par part, im sorry... I feel like im losing motivation to write this story, but im gonna keep going in hopes that it kinda just hits me like a freight train. Might take a break from this and do a few oneshots.

Word Count: 3309

New to the Series? Catch up here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Your lungs ache.

A dull creeping ache that wouldn't go away. Air was forced into your lungs, and you sputter and cough. One hand reaching up to try and bat away the intrusion, to make the air that forces your lungs to expand painfully go away. 

“Easy, Love. You need to leave that on,” A gruff voice next to you soothes. The words float over you like warm water. A blam to soothe the raw nerve endings exposed over your entire body. Slowly the world starts to come into focus, the steady hiss of an oxygen machine. The quiet beeping of a heart rate monitor, and a second faster paced one that echos it. The harsh smell of disinfectant, and the scratchy sheets on your raw skin. 

“Simon…” You mumble, your voice so hoarse you barely recognize it. Talking hurts. Breathing hurts. At this point you weren't sure there was a single thing you could do that didn't hurt. 

“I’m here Love,” Simon’s voice is soft, muffled. His large warm hand taking one of yours, a small whimper passing your lips as the heat from his hand causes the raw skin of your hand to burn. Simon quickly lets go, opting to instead brush a strand of your hair back from your face. “Sorry… I didn't mean to hurt you..” he whispers.

“S’okay…” you mumble, finally finding the strength to open your eyes. His dark brown eyes meet yours, a torrent of emotion swirling behind them. His browns pulled tight behind the black and white skull mask that covers his mouth and nose. You can’t help the small smirk that plays on your lips as you see it. Finally it made sense for him to be wearing one, you just wished you weren’t the reason he was wearing it in the correct setting. 

“What's so funny?” Simon grunts, his brows furrowed even more.

“The mask…” you cough and rasp, “finally wearing it in the correct setting.” 

Simon makes a small sound, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. Your eyes flickering around the bright white room. It was set up like any other hospital room, although this one seemed nicer. There was no curtain separating the room in half so another person could be in the room. It was just you and Simon, the TV on, the soundless news flashing across the screen. 

“What happened?” You rasp, sucking in a pained breath as the oxygen machine forces more air into your lungs. 

“Your apartment building caught on fire.. I found you on the stairs..” he leans forward in his chair, resting  his forearms on his thighs. Your eyes trail down to his arms and you notice the soot and ash that still clings to the fabric of his shirt. The small holes that burnt through the thin fabric, revealing the smallest parts of his tattoo. 

“How did you find me..” you mumble, your eyes burning like someone scraped them with sandpaper. 

“I was already on my way when I saw the smoke, one of your neighbors said she hadn’t seen you. The fire truck was still a few minutes out… I’ve run into worse things than burning buildings.” 

“That’s stupid of you….” 

“It’s part of my job, love,” he laughs slightly, “although you should sue your landlord. Bloody bastard didn’t even have a working fire system.” 

Silence settles over the room, the machines offering white noise. You allow your eyes to close, the burning becoming too much to ignore. As you lay there, listening to the sounds of the machines and Simon’s breathing, the soft whooshing sound catches your attention. 

You force your sore eyes open once more and turn to look at Simon, his head resting on his palm. His elbow propped up on his knee. “Is… is that the baby’s heartbeat?” You ask softly, Simon’s brown eyes meeting yours over the fabric of his mask.

“Yeah.. they wanted to monitor them… make sure the smoke inhalation didn't hurt them at all,” he whispers, behind the mask you can tell he's smiling. The way his eyes crinkle around the edges, and the way the mask moves ever so slightly.

“I still can’t get over the fact that there's an actual baby…” you mumble, dry eyes sliding closed again. 

“Me either, Love, me either…” Simon murmurs, allowing the steady whooshing sound to fill the room again. As you laid on the bed, you started to take inventory of your injuries. Nothing felt too burnt, your skin aches like a bad sunburn, and a spot on your shoulder stung. Your lungs burned with each breath but it wasn't unmanageable. Your throat felt raw and dry, and your eyes felt like you had walked into a sandstorm with them wide open. 

A soft knock on the door draws your attention back to the room. Blinking slowly the room comes back into focus, a woman stands at the door. A white coat adoring her, as she pokes her head in. Her kind blue eyes reminded you of Soap’s, as she steps into the room. Her heels clicking on the tile. 

“Hi, I'm Dr. Rykes. How are you feeling?” She asks softly, coming to stand at the foot of the bed, grabbing the metal clipboard that hangs there. She looks it over for a few minutes, flipping the pages back and forth, her brows pulled together.

“I’m okay…” you mumble, as Simon shifts in his seat. His hand comes to rest on your hand again, this time you're prepared for the slight sting of his body heat on your hand so you don't flinch. You just subtly turn your hand over so his hand rests against the less sensitive skin of your palm. 

“You’re probably going to feel like you have a sunburn for a few days, the intense heat from the fire can make your skin sensitive. You’ll also have some discomfort breathing and swallowing. But you made it out relatively okay, you did sustain a second degree burn on your shoulder, which will need to be redressed a few times a day,” she smiles, and looks up at you.

“When can she go home?” Simon’s voice startles her, and she looks over.

“In a few hours. I just want to monitor the baby and her oxygen stats,” she sets the clipboard back on the edge of the rail. “Do you have someplace to go?” She looks at me, her blue eyes filling with sympathy.

“Oh-” 

“She’ll be staying with me,” Simon cuts you off.

You look over at him, your brows pulled together, “Simon.. I can’t ju-” 

“Shh, you’ll stay with me until we can find you a new apartment,” His tone cuts off any argument that starts to form. After a few more questions and the doctor telling you that you need to take it easy and if you have any change in your breathing you are to come back immediately, she leaves. 

“Simon.. I can't just crash at your apartment.. I can get a hotel,” you turn towards him, his hand still on yours. 

“You can, and you will,” Simon's fingers tighten around yours. The warmth from his palm sends tingles over your skin. You wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms to make all the anxiety that was bubbling under the surface of your skin disappear. 

“Bu-” 

“No,” Simon deadpans, “You will be staying with me, I’m not going to let you live in a hotel and then take the first available flat you find. You’ll stay with me until we can find you a nice flat, with plenty of room for you and the baby.” 

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, and chew on it. You didn't want to have to rely on Simon, but you also didn't have much of a choice. You lost everything, not that there was anything of importance in the apartment. But your laptop was gone which was your main source of income. Your eyes flicker over Simon’s face, he leans back in the chair. His arms crossed across his chest as he looked at you. His brown eyes are full of determination. 

“Okay.. fine.” 

A smile creeps across his lips under his mask, his eyes shining slightly, “good girl.”

Warmth spreads through your chest at his praise, your cheeks heating as he watches you. For the next few hours you doze off, waking up every once in a while to hear Simon on the phone with someone. Eventually the doctor comes in with your discharge papers and gives you the okay to go to Simons, with instructions to follow up with your primary care in a few days. 

~~~~

Simon pushes open the door to his place, the warm yellow lights a stark contrast from the bright LED lighting in the hospital. Simon's hands rest on your waist, his fingers pressing softly into the flesh of your hips as he guides you towards his couch. You pause as you take in the state of the living room, the entire floor is covered in shopping bags from various stores. Even a few boxes filled with unbuilt furniture, the faint sound of shuffling comes from the bedroom. 

“W-what is all this?” You look over your shoulder at Simon who removes his mask, tossing it onto the counter behind him.

“I had Soap and Gaz pick up a few things for you,” Simon grunts, pulling you over to the couch and making you sit.

“You didn't have to do that…” You mumble as he bends, picking up a few of the bags and taking the clothes from them.

“You need clothes..” Simon states, as he holds the items of clothing in his hands. They look small in his large hands, as he folds them neatly placing them in piles on the arm of the couch next to you. “If you don't like something we can return it and get you something you like.”

“Oi! Ouch!” A thick Scottish accent calls from the bedroom, a moment later Soap emerges from the bedroom rubbing the side of his head. His bright blue eyes land on you and a smile breaks out on his face. “Lass!” He calls as he comes over and wraps his arms around you.

“Hi, Soap,” you mumble into the fabric of his shirt.

“I was worried about you, I just put up some shelves in LT’s closet for ya,” he smiles as he pulls back slightly, his hands resting on your upper arms. He looks you over for a few moments, shaking his head as he takes a step back. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” you smile, “we both are.” You place your hand over your lower stomach, and Soap smiles wide.

“Well, I'll leave you two to get settled,” he turns towards Simon, “I’ll come by tomorrow to help you put together the rest of the stuff, but I think both of you need some rest after the night you had.” 

“Thank you, Johnny,” Simon nods as Soap gathers his things and heads for the door. 

As the door closes behind Soap, you look over at Simon. “You really didn't have to do all this..” You trail off, looking at all the bags again. Tears prick in your eyes as you take in the sheer quantity of stuff Simon had bought for you. There were at least a dozen bags of clothes and shoes, a few filled with bathroom products that you never even thought of using. Soaps, Shampoos, and bath oils of different scents. The last time someone did something like this for you was when your mother bought you stuff for your house when you bought it. 

Your mom.

The memory knocks the air out of your lungs. She would’ve been so excited to be a grandmother. She was always telling you how she couldn't wait to spoil her grandkids. How she wanted to make so many new traditions with them. Shower them in love like she did you and your siblings. But now she would never know what it was like to hold her first grandchild. She would never experience the joy of hearing their heartbeat. She wouldn't be able to be there for their birth, to hold your hand and coach you through it. 

She was gone, buried 6 feet under the ground. Alongside your brother and sister, the only family you ever had. Tears spill down your cheeks, leaving streams of tears that burn like fire on your sensitive skin. Your throat feels tight with emotion as you pull your hands up to your face to try and hold back the emotions bubbling over. 

You lost your family, your first house, and now your apartment in the span of a year. You had to start over again. 

The couch next to you dips, as Simon settles on it. His large arm wraps around you as he pulls you into his chest. His hand is careful of the burn on your shoulder, as he puts his other hand on the back of your hair, pressing your face gently into his chest. Your shoulders shake as the silent tears turn into heartbreaking sobs. Your fists clutching the fabric of his shirt as he holds you gently. 

“You’re okay…” He murmurs into your hair, his hands gently ghosting across your back. 

Simon holds you in his arms as you shake, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he takes in your distressed state. He expected you to be upset, you had just lost your apartment, but the way you’re breaking down in his arms makes his gut twist. This was something more than losing an apartment, more than losing a few items in a fire. 

The cries that echo around the apartment in the early morning light were filled with something deeper. They were full of pain, the type of pain you feel when your entire life is ripped away. The kind of pain he felt when he found his family murdered after being buried alive and tricked by a brainwashed Sparks. Simons hands ghost along your sensitive skin as he tries to comfort you. His lips pressed against your hair that still smells of smoke, as he murmurs soft words to you.

You look so small in his arms, your entire body shaking with emotion you are desperately trying to contain. If he really wanted to, Simon is sure he could break you in half with one squeeze. Your small frame was no match for his strength, one strong wind seemed like it could blow you over. He knew that the cries that bubbled up from your chest weren’t meant for his ears. In the short time he's known you, he's noticed how you guarded yourself despite the apparent anxiety that seems to plague you. It took a lot of courage to seek him out after finding out you were pregnant, and he admired the strength it took. But beneath the walls you put up to protect yourself there was clearly someone who had witnessed something terrible and was no longer comfortable in the world they lived in. 

As your sobs quiet into small hiccups, Simon looks at you, your eyes puffy from crying. Your cheeks flushed, lips parted as you pulled air into your aching lungs. You were still as breathtaking as you were in the alley behind the bar, even with your tear stained cheeks. Your eyes meet Simons as he looks down at you, as you look at each other Simon swears he can see the walls going back up. In a matter of moments the lost, hurt look in your eyes is replaced with the carefully constructed facade you built to fool the people around you that you were okay. 

But Simon saw through it. He could see through the fake happiness you put on for everyone else, he could see through the mirage of ‘i’m fine and i’m okay’. He could see that behind those walls you put up to protect yourself you were broken and scared.

But it didn't matter to Simon, because in the moments were breaking down in his arms, when your face was streaked with tears, and you were gasping for air. You were the most beautiful, because in those moments, you were honest. That's when he found you the most beautiful, because despite all the pain, you were still here. You were still going, and that kind of strength that no one could take away from you. 

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, gently wiping your cheeks with your hands despite the burning sensation.

“Don't apologize,” Simon’s arms are wrapped around you, blanketing you in warmth.

“I don't usually.. Just break down like that,” you mumble, “I was just.. Its been a long time since someone has done something like this for me.” 

“You don't have to explain it to me.”

You shift slightly so you’re sitting a little further from him, his thigh pressed against yours. His body heat seeping through the fabric of his jeans into yours, as you clear your throat. Simon leans forward his elbows resting on his thighs as he rubs a hand across his face. In the dim lighting of his flat you notice just how tired he looks. The bags under his eyes are darker, and his eyes lack the shine that they normally have. 

“Why.. why don't we go through this stuff after a few hours of sleep, yeah?”

Simon looks over at you, and nods. “That sounds like a good idea, we both need some sleep,” he stands, holding his hand out to you.

“Are you okay with sharing the bed for tonight?” he asks, “I just don't have the energy to convert the couch to a bed right now.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks,”oh, yeah of course.” 

Simon smiles, and leads you into his bedroom. It looks exactly as it did when the night you fell into bed with him. The bed is neatly made, the walls still bare of personalization, but there's a small stack of books on the nightstand. The laundry basket in the corner has a few new blankets piled on top of it to be washed. Simon walks to his closet and pulls out a shirt and pair of sweatpants, holding them out to you. 

“Here, you can wear these tonight,”

You take the items and smile, the scent of simons cologne clings to them as you head towards the bathroom. After you close the door you press them to your nose, inhaling his comforting scent for a moment before changing. As you peel off your shirt you take in the thick white bandage that covers your shoulder blade. The skin around it is slightly pink, the tape holding the bandage in place pulling your skin taught. You carefully slide the oversized shirt over your upper body and tuck the front of it into the waistband of the rolled up sweatpants. 

When you emerge from the bathroom Simon is already laying on the bed, the blankets pulled up to his waist, his chest bare. His tattooed forearm slung over his eyes, as he lays against the pillows. His breathing is soft and slow as he sleeps. Your eyes trail down his chest and stomach, before you force yourself to look away. You climb into the bed, it dips under your body weight and you turn onto your side. Your arm under your pillow, your injured shoulder off the mattress as you reach over and turn off the small bedside lamp. 

As you pull the blanket up over yourself, Simon rolls over in his sleep, his arm coming to wrap around your waist. He tugs you backwards to fit against his chest, his hand resting over your lower stomach. His breath tickles the back of your neck as your own heavy eyes fall closed and sleep pulls you under. 

Next: Part 6

Taglist: @coffeeandtealol

[poppy-metal]

Omg Poppy, i need some mid-ugly-divorce ex-wife tashi, where maybe you’ve been working out the details of you’re divorce contract, against better judgement a bottle of wine is being opened and before you know tashi’s got you on the couch showing you exactly why you married her in the first place, only for her to get some tennis call right after and leave you a mess without looking back

love the idea of tashi just being like "lol" to the thought of divorce like. she's the breadwinner. she owned everything in your marriage and you were the dependent little housewife. so it's cute you're putting up a fight at all. she has no problem absolutely decimating you with legal fees and contracts you'd signed and running you into the ground until you come to your senses. she pays for you to have a shitty little apartment just to humiliate you when you realize you don't technically own a single thing in your house - her house. but still. you fight. you decline her calls until she's at your door and letting herself in. and you're telling her you really want her to let you go, you don't want to play games anymore, you beg "stop steamrolling over me," only to back up when she steps forward, tits brushing yours and tells you - "you fucking love it when I steamroll your ass."

and you end up bent over your ugly fucking couch, the only one you could afford, with your panties around your ankles and tashis fingers burried deep in your cunt - pumping without mercy. "how long are you going to fight me?" she asks, sounding completely unphased. you doubt a single hair is out of place - you clench helplessly around her. refuse to answer and bite your own arm to stifle your whimpers.

she leans her tight little body over yours, and you feel her lips brush your ear - her tits against your back. "I just want to take care of you." her thumb circles your clit, rolls it just the way you like. "you know you're no good on your own. you know where you belong - " your pussy squelches loudly as he pulls her fingers out and shoves them back in. "in my bed with your legs spread. some pretty stay at home pussy for daddy."

your eyes roll back. fuck, fuck you miss is so bad. you hate this small ass fucking apartment and sleeping alone and having to take care of yourself. you miss having nothing to do all day but keep your body the way tashi like it's and being a hole for her to fuck when she comes home to your shared mansion. that's the life you want. its the life you're built for.

"daddy -" you wail, fucking back on those fingers - completely lost in her, and the moment. "oh fuck me. fuck my pussy, yes - "

tashi fits her smooth thigh under your bare cunt, pulls her fingers out so she can lean back and grip your ass, pull your cheeks apart and watch the way your pussy glides back and forth on her taut leg. the way your little asshole twitches. she smacks your ass once, hard.

"dirty little girl. humping daddys thigh like a slut - that little pussy miss me that much?"

you hump down against her. nod your head rapidly because you can't help it. "uh huh, uh huh."

"when you come back home." when not if. you feel her hands on your ass again, squeezing. her confidence makes your clit throb. "im going to paint this ass black and blue for making me put up with this shit."

you wish you could stand up for yourself. tell her it's not a game. that you're serious. but you can't really say that when you're too busy moaning out her name and coming all over her thigh, now can you?

[chxrrylime]

saw your inbox was open and loved the tattooed male reader one shot w price.. like A LOT, so could i request a follow up where male reader actually gets a womb tattooed on his tummy and price just goes absolutely feral? smexy times of course (bottom reader), creative freedom to you regarding everything else

Part II to this. Ghost's here now. Enjoy.

Price x M!Reader x Ghost ↪ 646 words — 18+ / SMUT.

Content tags — cis male dominant Price, cis male dominant Ghost, cis male submissive tattooed reader, fem terms used for cis male readers genitalia, feminization, misgendering (in the sexy way), tattoos, breeding kink, daddy kink, unsafe sex, and anal sex.

Your arms flex against the ropes, holding your wrists comfortably crisscross above your head, the black silk rope, which you hadn't been to surprised to find Ghost just had, rubbing deliciously against your inked flesh. Price’s cock bullies into your saliva and lube slick hole, his big hands spread wide over the underside of your thighs. You moan desperately, earning a chiding chuckle from Price above you.

“Slutty little thing, hm?” He rumbles, readjusting his grip to tilt your hips up, his cock rutting insistently over your prostate with each thrust, causing you to shout.

“There we go," he grunts.

You sob out at the persistent stimulation, the bed shifting beside your head as Ghost moves to rub his swollen cock along your kiss bitten lips, teasing the tip in and out of the welcoming heat to muffle your noises. Ghost’s free hand trails down your torso, palm spread out over your lower tummy, right where your new tattoo rests—the womb design Price paid for you to get, designed by none other than Soap himself.

Price watches how Ghost’s pupils darken as he presses down on the soft flesh, slowing his hips to a torturously slow roll.

“Wanna watch me knock ‘im up, Simon?” Price smiles knowingly, tracking how Ghost’s eyes flicker from the tattoo, to Price’s gaze, down to the frothy white ring around Price’s cock where he sinks in and out of your pink, swollen hole.

Ghost doesn’t give a verbal response, but Price hums anyway, eyeing the way Ghost's cock gives an interested little twitch at Price's honeyed words.

Slowly picking up his pace again, he rocks his hips into yours with harsh thrusts, balls slapping lewdly against your ass, your hard flushed cock bouncing uselessly against your stomach, smearing the tattoo with your own precum.

“S’all this tight little cunt’s good for, isn’t that right?” He grabs your jaw, squeezing your cheeks as he tugs you off of Ghost’s cock with a wet pop and a gasp, watching your red face pant for breath as you frantically nod your head, barely flinching as Ghost gently slaps his cock against your face.

“Yes—y-yes—John—please—fuck!”

“Attagirl,” Price grins viciously, taking your cock in hand to stroke the weeping flesh as he leans down to lick into your mouth, Simon impatiently slipping his cock between the both of your lips with a grunt. The three of you moan, Ghost stroking the length of his cock while you and Price make out messily with the sticky tip.

Ghost's cock twitches, a low, growling "fuck" emanating from his chest as his spend decorates your face, Price eagerly licking you clean as he holds eye contact with Simon, making you whimper as he leaves behind sucking bruises in the process.

"M'gonna cum—Price—" you whine, thighs quivering, that heavy heat sinking deep in your stomach.

"Yeah? Gonna come on daddy's cock?" His voice is impossibly low, rumbling through you like thunder. You shudder and twitch, back arching and eyes rolling back as your orgasm rolls through you, mouth open in a silent scream as Price's firm strokes and harsh thrusts milk your pleasure.

"That's it," Price half growls, half chuckles, "there she is. Milk daddy's cock, princess, fuck."

His thrusts stutter, once, twice, before his cock settles as deep as he can bury it, thick cum filling you. You vaguely feel Ghost's hands over your tattoo again, rubbing the skin there.

You're barely aware as Price kisses and licks up your leg, your ankle, peppering kisses over the top of your foot, his hips lazily rolling like he could rut his cum any deeper—like if he gets it deep enough it might actually take.

And Ghost, his big hand an anchor amidst your floating, his steady hot breaths against your neck before his lips suck a bruise right beneath your ear, whispering a low "gonna look so good knocked up."

[zibus]

Alright, so it looks like Usopp is going to have pretty light-toned skin in the remake. Of course this is all concept art so it could change (I hope it changes) but my hopes are not high. Because this seems to be the "official" direction across everything except the la. He is bone pale in Toei Egghead now as well.

This sucks, for lots of reasons. Anime often has issues with racists or at least unflattering depictions of black people reflecting larger issues with race in Japan ( not unique to them, obv.). One Piece has historically avoided a lot if these criticisms (that I've seen) because most named black or black-coded characters are allowed to be cool and/or have interesting characterization. Mr. One, Blackbeard, Kuma, and King come to mind (Blackbeard and Kuma being some of Oda's best characters!) not to mention all Fishmen to some degree. These characters all have varying levels of complexity and avoid the worst stereotypes of African Americans and other black people.

However, black people are still few and far between in the world of OP and they do often end up pigeon holed into certain roles. Of the list above only Kuma is heroic and only Blackbeard is a leader. The "Zoro is a racist" jokes come from somewhere. While many black characters have great designs, there are several examples of really awful caricatures.

Hopefully I dont have to explain that this guy on Buggy's crew is.... not great.

And so if Usopp no longer has dark skin, but is merely black-coded (and some of that coding is borrowed from minstrel shows as well), then a massive hole opens up in One Piece's black representation. The most* nuanced, compelling, and relatable Strawhat is no longer black, and the lense on the rest of Oda's track record for black characters starts to deserve harder scrutiny.

Thing is, this isn't the animators going rogue. This appears to be how Oda imagines Usopp. Consistently from his first appearance to today, Oda colors Usopp with basically the same skin-tone as the other characters.

In fact, all of the characters Toei gave a darker skin tone have much lighter ones on volume covers or in the colored version.

The lighter Usopp, then, can (and you can bet your ass will be) defended as being closer to Oda's original vision. But that doesn't make it better or even good. This is a case where I think Oda's vision/interpretation is wrong. These characters are black-coded and should be drawn in ways that make it obvious and clear that black people of all shades exist in OP and anime in general. Leaving dark skinned characters out entirely betrays a shortcoming on Oda's part.

So... what does this mean? Idk. As a white fan, I'm upset and disappointed. It puts a stain on a series that has spent so much time discussing race and racism in a nuanced and generally helpful way. Its another reminder that you can always have deep biases and internalized bs, even decades into writing a series at least partial about breaking oppressive and racists regimes. But the people this hurts the most are black fans of the series and anime who are having a role-model and wonderfully nuanced and sympathetic black character erased.

I hope Oda changes his mind, or maybe someone at Wit or Toei can speak up and bring this issue to light. Maybe fan complaints will help? Idk. Im just bracing myself, I guess. And yes, I'm sure I'll "get over it" eventually and enjoy the remake, but I won't be able to forget.

*your millage on Usopp may vary, of course, but Water 7 is Peak One Piece for a reason and a lot of that reason is Usopp.

[meganwritesfanfics]

You are my Sunshine

Jamie Tartt x Reader

It's time for Jamie to find out the gender of his baby, and the team is more than willing to help out.

Check out Part 1, Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

____________________________________________________________

Jamie had been antsier than normal. This was the week they were supposed to find out the gender of the baby. Y/N was planning surprising Jamie, he would have been completely fine opening the envelope with her, but it made her happy to plan a surprise, and he would do anything to see her smile. 

He was about to make his way into the locker room when he found a sheet of paper covering the door. 

“The fuck?” He gasped but when he took a step back he saw that the paper read “Tear me” “Ok?” He reached out and and tore the paper finding the lights in the lockeroom off. 

“Alright guys, this is very funny ha ha.” He said and suddenly the lights flicked on and Jamie saw that the whole locker room was covered in this paper and written all over it was Boy or Girl? 

Dani was also standing in the middle of the room holding a black balloon. 

Jamie laughed as he made his way towards Dani. 

“Y/N roped you into this eh?” He smiled.

“I was happy to help. It is very exciting.” Dani said beaming. “Now you must pop the balloon.” 

“Where is the rest of the team? Is Y/N here?” Jamie asked as he started to move towards the hall out to the field. 

“You must pop the balloon!” Dani snapped stepping inbetween Jamie and the door. 

“Woah, alright mate,” Jamie said throwing his hands up in defense. 

“Here.” Dani went back to his smily self and handed him a football shaped pushpin. 

“Well isn’t this adorable. You know, I think Y/N should be here.” 

Danny didn’t say anything, he just kept smiling and held the balloon out. 

“Alright, well I guess this is her plan. So let’s do this.” He felt the nerves building in his stomach as he reached out and quickly popped the ballroom. All the anxiety faded as he saw that there was nothing actually in the balloon. “Hey mate, isn’t their suppose to be like confetti or somethin’” 

“You may now move on to the next player.” Dani smiled as he walked over tearing a hole in the paper for Jamie to walk through.” 

“Wait are you saying the whole team is…” Jamie said as he peaked his head out and found the hall lined with his team members leading out to the field. “Oh my fuck.” 

“Jamie!” Ted called at the very end of the line. “Pop the balloons to find out the gender of ya’lls kids. Not that this means that this is who your child has to be identified as for the rest of their life, they get to make that choice themselves, but you know it is a somewhat fun tradition…” 

“Thanks coach!” Jamie said cutting Ted off. 

Beard was the first person on his left. Holding out his balloon. 

“Be real with me coach. Do any of these balloons have confetti in em?” 

“Nope.” 

“Do I have to pop all of them?” 

“Ted has been instructed to tackle you if you try to leave without popping all the balloons.” 

“I think i could take ‘im coach.” 

“You would be surprised, he’s got some muscle.” 

“Alright,” Jamie said and how much he pretended to be annoyed, he was actually loving this. The fact that Y/N had put so much time and effort into something for him, made his heart swell. 

Ted played along with every balloon, commenting things like “oh this one has to have something in it, oh I’m nervous the tension is really building, etc.” 

By the time Jamie made it to the end, the whole team was cheering him along as he popped each balloon. 

When he cleared the tunnel he could see her standing in the middle of the field a football next to her. He smiled and quickened his pace so that he could reach her. 

“Hi baby!” She smiled as she reached out her arms for Jamie. 

He hugged her tightly and then let his hand rest on her slightly extended stomach. 

“Did you enjoy my game?” 

“I did, although I don’t think I have fully finished it have I?” He smiled looking down at the ball. 

“You have one more thing to do, you’re favorite thing.” 

“Baby, me doing my favorite thing is what got us into this situation in the first place.” He smirked

“Jamie Tartt!” Y/N smacked him looking around to make sure no one heard them. “No I mean scoring goals. But before you do that I have a present.” She said and she pulled a small piece of fabric and held it up. 

It was an infant sized Richmond Jersey. “And this is the best part.” She turned it around and it was Jamie’s number nine with the name Tartt written on the back. “This way we can cheer on daddy together.” 

Jamie didn’t have words. He just reached out and carefully took the jersey from her hands. He couldn’t believe that anything could be that tiny. His mind still hadn’t fully wrapped itself around the idea that they were having a baby. 

“It’s…” His voice cracked. “It’s perfect Y/N I don’t…” 

“Oh Jamie,” Y/N said as she wrapped her arms around him. 

“You know I don’t care what we are having as long as it’s a health baby, who is going to love football.” Jamie whispered and Y/N laughed. 

“I know.” 

“Oi! Can we get on with this!” They heard Roy yell and Y/N quickly flip him off. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t get Roy involved.” 

“He didn’t want to participate and I was worried he would spoil it, so I locked him in the boot room til you got to the hallway.” 

Jamie laughed as he turned to Roy a big grin on his face, and Roy responded by flipping him off, but for a moment he did crack a smile. 

“Alright so all I have to do is score a goal?” Jamie asked turned back to Y/N. 

“Well technically all you have to do is kick the ball and then the power will explode, but I figured you would want to score a goal as well.”

“You know me so well baby.” Jamie smiled. 

“So go ahead Jamie Tartt.” She said as she backed away a little bit so he could get ready. 

Jamie took a deep breath, the anxiety was coming back and the nerves. 

“Jamie Tartt do, do, dodododo, Jamie Tartt, do do dododdodo…” Someone started chanting and then everyone on the team started cheering Jamie on. 

He felt his cocky spark come back and in one beautiful kick he sailed the ball across the field and into the net, sending a giant puff of blue smoke out into the air. 

Everyone went wild and Jamie immediately turned to Y/N with tears in his eyes. 

“A boy,” He gasped. “We are having a boy.” 

Y/N nodded as she walked up to him. “We are going to have a boy.” She beamed. And Jamie pulled her in for a long kiss

[ghostlygeto]

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x fem!reader

warnings: not nsfw, but mentions toys so mdni!!, fluff, atsumu is there and a dumbass, atsumu specifically calls reader "girl", more selfship content because im insane :D, bad ending bc idk, i only cared about the middle bits. i never ever proof read btw

wc: 1k again somehow?? im crazy

the way you met sakusa kiyoomi was incredibly, and i mean incredibly, embarrassing. you would be out of town for four days, so you had to ask your incredibly attractive neighbor to take your package for you. he agreed, of course. and then the two of you moved on.

but when he gave you the package back, his ears tinted pink (you could only assume his cheeks were, too, but the black mask unfortunately covered them so you couldn’t tell), you felt mortified.

“sorry, my dumbass friend opened it when i left him in the same room as it,” sakusa’s words drilled into your brain, you felt your stomach fill with embarrassment. 

sakusa remembered the exact moment it happened. atsumu kept insisting that it “wouldn’t be a big deal, you’ll never know the difference”. he’ll be extra careful in cutting through the tape, and make sure that he rewraps whatever is inside the little box just the way it came. sakusa warned atsumu not to, that it was impolite to snoop in other people’s things. atsumu swore it’d be fine. you’d have no idea he was even in there. sakusa threatened him some more, but made the mistake of leaving atsumu alone in the room with the package.

until he opened the box and saw the cute little sex toy, causing him to laugh out loud. “omiomi, yer neighbors a li’l perv! look at this!” he held it up, giggling some more at the clear glittery silicone in his hand. “can’t believe she’d buy somethin’ like this, why don’t she jus’ ask ya for the real deal? or if yer not interested maybe i could help ‘er out.”

sakusa walked back in the room horrified, seeing his best (soon to be dead) friend holding the contents of your package in his hand. “put that away, miya. you know you’re the perv here, going through someone else’s things like that. and we’ve barely spoken past our conversation when she asked me to pick up the package for her. i highly doubt she wants or needs any help with that. especially not from someone like you.”

“mean,” atsumu rolled his eyes, rewrapping the toy in it’s cloth packaging and bubble wrap. “nev’r hurt t’ask ‘er. maybe she’ll be thankful. do it, when you give it t’er! i’ll give ya money if ya do it.”

“i don’t want or need your money,” sakusa snatched the box out of atsumu’s hand, sighing as he realized now he’d have to explain to his pretty neighbor why her package was opened. and try to pretend that he didn’t know what was inside of it.

— – - – —

“uh, enjoy.” he wanted to kick himself in the stomach as he shoved the box into your arms, leaving you standing in your doorway somehow more embarrassed than you were to begin with.

why, why, why would he say something like that. you wanted to curl inside a hole and die, never to return. you had been kind of excited for the toy prior to now. but now even thinking about using it made you feel kind of sick to your stomach.

“thanks,” you replied while his back was turned, wishing you could retreat into yourself and never be seen by anyone outside your apartment ever again. you opened up the box when you were behind closed doors, seeing the poorly rewrapped bubble wrap before sighing loudly. you needed to do something as an apology. but would that make things more awkward? to bring him over some sort of baked good as an apology?

— – - – —

the knock on his door made his heart sink a little. sakusa hated unannounced company, and the only person who ever showed up unannounced (atsumu) was already sat comfortable in the living room of sakusa’s apartment.

you pretend to not notice the combined looked of shock and embarrassment when sakusa opened the door. you held up the tray of sweets, a combination of cookies and brownies. you weren’t sure what he liked best, so you settled with the most common desserts that almost everyone enjoyed: chocolate chip cookies and brownies. “these are for you, sakusa. as a thank you and apology for my package.”

sakusa stared down at the tray in your hands, trying to decide if he was going to accept it or not. he didn’t feel like he needed an apology (though the thank you was nice, as it’s the normal thing to). but the sound of sakusa’s grandma rang in his head, telling him that rejecting gifts was rude. he grabbed the tray from your hands, getting ready to bow and say his thanks when probably his worst nightmare came true.

“oh m’god, ‘re ya dildo girl?” atsumu asked, a large smile covering his face, “y’know i really hope ya didn’t mind my lookin’ in the box, omi told me not t’, but the curiosity was killin’ me.” he walked closer to the door, staring down at your blushing face. “not sure if he relayed my message, but if ya ever get tired of the dil-”

“enough, miya,” sakusa hissed, shoving his friend further back into the apartment. “i really am very sorry, y/n. about him, and the package thing.” he had to pretend he couldn’t feel the heat in his cheeks, hoping you’d do the same. “we can just pretend that never happened, if you want.”

you nodded your head, though you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. the tall, pro-volleyball player sakusa kiyoomi towered over you, blush spread across his cheeks as he apologizes for his best friend, pro-volleyball player miya atsumu. if the circumstances were different, you’d be living your best life. “we can pretend none of this happened, if you prefer. we’ll have a formal meeting another time.”

without further goodbye, you walked away from sakusa’s front door and toward your own. if these few interactions with your neighbor were any indication for how the rest of your time living there would be, you knew that there wouldn’t be many dull moments.

reblogs, comments, nd likes appreciated (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ )

[pjoxreader]

Mmmmm, i sent a request but im not so sure it processed though, since tumblr is a bit weird sometimes, so could i request a part two for the poly!solangelo x child of poseiden!reader? you know how in the last olympian percy an annabeth share an underwater kiss? well what if reader has like a secret hide out cave near cabin three but the only way to get to it is by going underwater, and its like really pretty, theres fairy lights, blankets, pieces of pearls and coral laying around, shells just here and there, jewelry, chest full of tresure(nobody knows where it came from probably from poseiden tho-(cause favoritism))and theres like this pocket of water where you get into and out of the cave, etc, etc, so reader decides to take solangelo underwater and into the hide out cave, the three of all explored the sea and then when they got to the cave, reader(whos still a merperson peeping out from the pocket of water) gifts the two the most beautiful pieces of pearl jewelry so they can all be matching and its just very very fluffy in general!!!!

poly!solangelo x child of poseidon!reader (merperson) part 2

-You could see Nico’s hesitation as you lead the two boys towards the lake. You had told them that you had a surprise for them. It's crazy to think that it had been a week since the three of you had been in a relationship and it had been nothing but bliss.

-Of course you had been friends before all of this but now that you were dating you wanted to show them your special spot. Normally this is where you would go if you wanted alone time, so it was very special to you. But you were willing to share it with them. “It’ll be ok I promise.” you reassure Nico, gently squeezing his hand before you jump off the dock into the water with a splash. -Will can’t help but laugh as he shields himself from the water, Nico getting the brunt of the splash but sighs heavily as if annoyed but you could see the faint smile on his face. “Guess it’s our turn!” Will yells as he jumps into the water pulling Nico with him by his hand. Both of them cause a large splash as well making you laugh happily.

-With both boys underwater you make a  bubble of air for them to breathe. The last thing you wanted to do was drown your new boyfriends... Content with your work you take their hands leading them to the deep part of the lake through a hole at the bottom. That was where you kept your secret cave. The three of you make your way up into the cave that had fairy lights, blankets, coral and a beautiful treasure chest.

-”Wow…” Will says in amazement as their bubble pops once they reach the shore. You have to stay half in the water as you have your large tail. “This is my little hideout.” you explain with a smile seeing the two of them look around. “I know I call you a crow but you’re really selling it.'' Nico says as he lifts up some jewelry from your chest. “Hey!” you complain, making Will laugh.

-”It really is beautiful.” Will says with a kind smile that makes you blush. “This isn’t actually the only surprise I had…” the two of them do look back at you in curiosity. You dive going to your hiding spot and bringing back your gifts, a black pearl bracelet and a yellow one slipping the black one onto Nico’s wrist and the yellow onto Will’s. “There. I figured we should match…” you explain with a little blush.

-”I guess this means we’re official.” Nico says with a fond smile as he looks over the pearls. “Thank you, it really is beautiful.” Will says in hushed amazement. Nico and Will nod to each other and you can’t help but wonder what they have planned. That’s when Nico leans down kissing you gently on your lips. While your heart was fluttering and eyes wide open Will kissed you as well leaving you speechless for a few seconds as that was your first kiss, or well kisses. “W-Wait we have to do it again I had my eyes open.” you plead, making both boys laugh.

~Masterlist & Rules~

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