#just sitting in this room that i feel like i was shoved into

[writersdrug]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Feelin' alright, there?"

Simon grunts. "Long day."

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

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

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

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

"Sir."

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that damn bra is still in his room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alba's Version) IV

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: The aftermath

*TW: parental neglect, aftermath of suicide*

It takes Alexia nearly a week until she realises you're missing.

You're self-sufficient and independent. You've never needed much and it's not weird for Alexia to not see you for days on end.

You come home from whatever you spend your days doing and go straight to your room.

You make your own meals, she's pretty sure because she never has to make extra. Just enough for a family of three. Two when Olga is away from work.

It's a fleeting thing really, the only way that she realises you've disappeared.

She knocks on your door, intent on finally having that conversation about what you're planning on doing with your future.

There's no answer.

"Now's not the time to sulk, y/n," She calls through the door," If you don't come out then I'm coming in!"

Still silence.

"One! Two!"

Alexia doesn't wait for three, shoving open the door.

She expects to see you on your bed, sulking or whatever it is you do when she's not around.

You're not there though.

Your bed is made. Your clothes are packed away.

There's nothing out of place. Nothing to prove that this room was even really yours apart from a few neat stacks of paper on your desk.

Alexa glances over them, frowning as if they'd give her the answer to where you've gone.

She's been home since last night, the first one up and awake in the house. There's no way you could have snuck past her.

"Jaume!" She yells out," Where's your sister?"

"I don't know! Out with friends or something?"

That's odd.

Alexia can't remember the last time you mentioned a friend to her. To be honest, Alexia can't remember the last time the two of you actually had a conversation.

She shuffles through the papers on your desk.

Yes, she thinks, you must be with friends because there's three tickets to a ballet performance on Saturday.

You must be wanting to take them with you.

It's only when Alexia sits up that night, waiting for you to come home, that she gets the sinking feeling you're not coming back.

She waits for hours until the early hours of the next morning and the sun begins to rise before panic lances through her chest.

You've not come home.

She checks her phone, wondering if she missed a text saying you would stay at a friend's house but there's nothing.

She checks your room, just to see if you've climbed in through the windows but they're locked.

You are nowhere.

She pulls Jaume out of school for the day. She calls Olga to come home from Madrid.

She scours all of the places she thinks you hang out but you're nowhere to be seen.

It's almost like you've never existed in the first place.

The call comes in the evening.

It's Alba.

"I can't talk right now," Alexia says after two missed calls," I'm-"

"I'm sorry," Alba says instead.

"What?"

"I'm sorry." Alba chokes her words out like they're so physically painful she can barely say them. Like she's so numb that even talking is difficult. "I tried but..."

"Alba? What's happened? Listen, I really can't talk right now. I'm-"

"I really did try. They did too but it was already too late."

"Alba, what is going on?"

"We should go to the hospital," Alba says," I'll send you which one."

In the deepest pit of her chest, Alexia already knows what has happened. In some deep, dark part of her, she's known since Alba called. In the worst, most hidden piece of herself, Alexia has known since the beginning.

It's an awful thing for an aunt to see.

It's a terrible thing for a brother to see.

It's even worse for a mother to see.

A picture goes up at the ballet company.

(Alexia didn't even know you joined one).

It's of you smiling, the headhsot that they used on the website, displayed proudly in the main foyer.

'Rest In Peace' sits under it and a little plaque with your name and how long you lived. It states your interests with no hint about trains at all. It talks about your reserved disposition but mentions how you endeared yourself to everyone.

Flowers sit under it, bouquets upon bouquets from the dancers and the staff and audience members who have seen you perform.

(Alexia has never been to a performance once).

Support pours in from people Alexia hasn't spoken to in years. Old coaches. Old teammates. Old friends.

Everyone seems to have a fond memory of you but all Alexia can think about is the last words she said to you.

She can't remember them.

She can't remember what she said or how she felt or what she was doing.

There is a gap in her memory from that moment.

Everyone talks about you so fondly, with such clarity that Alexia can't replicate.

You have gone on a wisp of breeze and Alexia is left trying to catch the impossible.

Her mind circles around herself, trying to work out where this all went wrong.

She loved you. She loved you so much.

Her beautiful baby girl who was a little nervous and a little quiet but beautiful all the same.

The little girl who loved trains and ballet and doing all the super feminine stuff that Alexia had to learn when she was a bit older.

The people around her tell stories of you, like Ingrid talking about how you used to love having her braid your hair back but Alexia sits there numb.

She's been numb since she saw your body in the hospital morgue.

She's been numb since the funeral where you lay in your coffin, perfectly peaceful like you were taking a long sleep.

She's been numb since they all returned to Eli's house for food and drink to celebrate your life.

Alba is not talking to her, has not talked to her outside what is needed since she called.

Alexia hasn't even noticed, too preoccupied with the realisation that she's a mother that just had to bury her daughter.

It was not a disease that took you. It was not a heart attack. It was not a random attack on the street.

It was you.

You made this decision, decided that this world was not worth living in anymore. That you could no longer cope with everything happening around you.

Things that Alexia has no knowledge on and, now, will never have any knowledge on.

You thought that this path was better than returning home.

You thought that everything would be better, more peaceful if you took your life away.

People have been cautious around Alexia, seeing just how close she is to tears.

She didn't cry during the funeral when you were lowered down into the ground with nothing but a neat blouse and a skirt.

Nothing to take with you now that you're gone.

Olga had to pack your things away in your room because Alexia could not force herself to even step through the doorway.

Your things are gone.

You are gone.

And Alexia will never know why.

[madamechrissy]

Cockwarming with Nanami

ఌ Word count 1.2k words

ఌ Pairing Nanami x femreader

ఌ Summary Nanami challenges you to stay still as he finishes his work, can you handle it? MDNI explicit, pwp drabble

Nanami Kento sat at his desk, his laptop open before him, fingers dancing across the keyboard as you sit there, as quiet as you can in his lap. The room was bathed in the glow of the setting sun, casting a warm light over the cluttered bookshelves and the desk filled with papers. It casts little shadows over the hollows of his perfect cheeks, as you straddle him, his cock inside of you pulsing and warm.

You clench your muscles, making him huff, before he gives you a look behind those green glasses perched on his straight nose. You pout, and you don’t miss when his lips quirk up. “Darling, no moving, stop that. Be a good girl for me.”

“I’ll be so good if you… move.” You whine now, rolling your hips a bit as he continues to type away at his laptop. He groans, head tilting back, those hazel eyes closing for just a moment, and you can’t stop that smile.

“It’s only been ten minutes, I told you I need to finish this, you promised. Don’t be so bratty.” He taps your hip with a firm hand, stinging it just a bit, as his, only serving to make you wetter, to pulse more. “Mmnh, stop that.”

“I can’t stop it! Ngh… type faster.” He laughs softly, as you snuggle against him, running a hand through his sandy blond hair, like silk between your fingers.

“So demanding, aren’t you darling? Let me focus.” Nanami keeps typing, seemingly so calm aside from every now and then his big hands would tense on your hips, and about five more minutes in, he bucks his hips up, leaky tip against your cervix, and you cling to him desperately, nails making half moons in his perfect skin.

“You… did it… on purpose.” You whine, desperately now, as your walls flutter around his thick length, soaking him down the boxers and trousers that were half down his strong thighs. You hear his soft sigh, feeling it tickle against your ear, as he continues to type away, and you ache for his fingers on your clit, ache for that friction so badly.

You wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer, feeling his heat and the steady beat of his heart against your skin. His eyes briefly flicker down to meet yours, a smoldering intensity behind his glasses, before returning to the screen. He won’t give in, you already know, he’s too stubborn even as you’re whining softly in his ear.

Your breath catches when he shoves up again, the ridge of his tip against that spot that makes you go blind. “Kento…”

"Ten more minutes darling, can you not last?"

"Kento... please." You whine, your voice a mix of need and desperation, but he just shakes his head slightly, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"Five more minutes, then, bratty girl." He murmurs, his voice strained with effort, you giggle, taking it as a win as you bite your lower lip, fighting the urge to move, as one little movement would have you cumming. You squeeze around him, contracting in a way that sends a shiver through his body. His eyes widen, and for a moment, it looks like he might give in, but then he grits his teeth and resumes typing, his breathing hitching.

“Damnit.” He chuckles softly, and each tap of the keyboard with his sure fingers echoes, mixing with your pathetic little whines for your husband. Your nipples are hard against his chest, against his starch dress shirt, and you can feel his heart racing just like yours as you rock your hips ever so slightly, testing his resolve. His jaw tightens, and you know you're pushing him to the edge.

“Be good or I’ll add five more minutes.” You whine at that.

“Fine, sorry Sir.”

“Good girl.” He hums, and now you’re staying as still as possible, as he’s pecking a gentle kiss on the side of your neck, making goosebumps rise, as you shiver in anticipation, struggling to keep it together.

“I’ll be so good, Sir.” You whisper against his neck, making him hum as you inhale his scent, that soft sandalwood, his cologne. “How long, Kento?”

“Two more minutes, you’re almost there, my love.” You sigh, and the last two minutes feel like an eternity, as his clicking keys and the sound of the little fan in the room can’t drown out your beating heart, the pulse racing in your throat, and then it happens, he finally closes that damn laptop, you exhale in relief as he pulls back a bit, setting his glasses on the desk with a gentle click.

“I did it!” You exclaim, making him chuckle up at you with tired eyes, glints of green as he smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You’re adorable.” He kisses the tip of your nose, hands on your waist now, and he presses up, making your head fall back, eyes rolling back in pleasure as you gasp, and he’s shoving up your top, revealing your breasts. “Beautiful.”

“Kento, please, please.” You beg, and his hands squish your tits now, your nipples hard against his rough palms.

“Brace yourself, darling.” He whispers, and you eagerly do, holding onto his strong shoulders, and he begins fucking up into you, making you scream out, as your cunt is soaking down his length, as you tremble. He’s fucking into you, looking at you, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks a nipple into his mouth. He picks you up then, shoving everything off his desk, making you gasp as he spins you, bending you over.

“S’good… please…” You whisper, as his cock re enters you, shoving to the hilt, and stretching your perfect little cunt out, the sound of your ass getting smack resounding, stinging from his smack. “Kento!”

“Ah ah, darling.” He smacks you again, teasing you with that tip, you’re so close you can cum with just that, as he slides back. “Speak properly for me.”

“Daddy.” You whisper, making him moan as his grabs you by your hips, starting to fuck you so good you’re drooling, smacks of skin and the squelching of your eager pussy so loud.

“Good girl. Such a good girl.” He hums, railing the fuck out of you now, and fuck if it isn’t worth almost twenty minutes of cockwarming for it, for him to raise up your hips and slam into your eager pussy, clenching around him, making him moan. “Trying to suck up all this cum, isn’t she?”

“Need you… breed me… daddy!” He’s fucking you harder, bending over you, a big hand pulling your hair as his cheetah tie dangles just so, and you yank it down, until you can see his handsome face working you. He slams his lips down as he fucks into you, and you begin to fall apart.

“Breed this perfect cunt hmm?” He leans back again, lifting you up higher, curved tip dragging your walls, and you’re shivering as you lose your vision, as he keeps pulling on your hair.

 “Can I cum, please?” You beg, breathless, and you feel him tense behind you, groaning.

“Of course, such a good girl. Go ahead, let me feel you.” He slams in, pressing and rolling his hips, and you scream out as you climax, making such a mess of both of you, dripping down on his wood office floor.

Nanami Kento loves to work while inside his wife’s eager little pussy, and you love to get filled with his cum when he’s done.

Masterlist of my works here: Masterlist

[tpwk-formula1]

Hiii, can I please order a Thin Crust with red sauce, olives, salami, kielbasa. As for drink, I would have a pink lemonade, and truly, I also want desserts. With Franco Colapinto (hope it isn't too much)

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

thin crust brother's best friend red sauce rough sex olives "Swallow every last bit. NOW!" salami "Such a little cum slut" kielbasa "A preschooler is better behaved than you are" pink lemonade degrading kink truly belly bulge served by Franco Colapinto

Franco x Albon! reader

TW - rough sex, belly bulge, riding cock, face fucking, squirting, cum swallowing

WC 785

Y/N POV

"Franco," I hiss when he was finally able to get me into his driver's room.

"Stop fucking talking to the other drivers," Franco snaps after having caught me talking to Lando and George after quilifying had finished.

"Franco I have know those guys since I was a child. They've been there for my brother for as long as I can remember," I hiss before France is pushing me against the wall behind me and pulling me in for a rough kiss.

"Stop being so insecure. Carmen and I are friends I would never fucking do that to her and quite frankly Lando is like another brother to me," I snap at Franco when he doesn't say anything but still doesn't let me up from the wall.

"A preschooler is better behaved than you are," Franco snaps clearly pissed off at me calling him out.

"Shut up Franco," I snap back at him which had him quickly pushing me down on my knees where he's yanking down his fireproofs that were already sitting on his hips while making sure to drag his briefs with them.

"Suck it now," Franco snapped making me whimper before I open my mouth and let Franco shove his cock down my throat.

I gag around his cock trying to push his hips back but with my head against the wall, there's not much room for me to move.

"Fuck, I love watching you cry when my cock is buried in your throat," Franco groans making me whimper and close my eyes submitting to the face fucking.

"Get up," Franco snaps while pulling my hair and leading me to the couch in the corner of his room where he sits down and starts stripping off the little summer dress I had thrown on.

He roughly starts rubbing his fingers through my folds feeling all over wetness that has been dripping drop my pussy.

"Fucking whore," Franco laughs before pulling me into his lap and pushing my hips down filling my pussy with his thick cock.

"Franco," I moan when I'm fully seated on his cock. I let Franco grip onto my hips and bounce me on my cock using my pussy like I was just another toy for him to use.

"Look," Franco says while pushing my head down letting me see the bulge he had created in my tummy from his thick cock.

"Franco," I gasp when my mind finally processes that Franco is so big that he can leave a small bulge in my tummy.

I can see the cocky smirk written across Franco's face making me whine.

"I fucking love destroying you for anyone else," Franco tells me when I throw my head back feeling the fast-approaching orgasm.

"Go on, cum for me," Franco says when he feels me clenching around his cock. I instantly start cumming all over Franco even squirting a bit of my pleasure onto his stomach.

"Such a good little cum slut," Franco says while helping ride out my orgasm before he roughly pulls me off his cock and shoves me back onto my knees where he roughly takes my messy hair into his hands and pushes his cock into my mouth.

While I'm bobbing my head on Franco's cock I can feel him bucking up into my throat to match my strokes before he starts cumming down my throat in a loud shout.

"Fuck, swallow every last bit. NOW!" Franco says roughly while holding my head down to make sure I swallow everything before he's softly slipping out of my throat, and pulling me back into his lap.

"Fuck you did so good for me," Franco says still out of breath from his orgasm.

"So good," I mumble softly not wanting to talk too loud since my throat was quite sore.

"But Franco, you have to realize I grew up around a lot of these guys, I promise nothing will ever happen between me and any of them," I tell him softly while stroking his hair in a calming manner.

"I know, it's just hard knowing I came in mid-season and you've grown up with some of them meaning they know you more than I do," Franco replies making me smile.

"Well they've had years to try and win me over, you came in a month ago and managed to wiggle your way into my life, nothing to be worried about," I tell him softly before kissing his lips again.

"But if you're gonna be fucking me that good every time I talk to another driver, I might just start having to flirt around a bit more," I tell Franco with a smirk making him slap my ass as a warning.

[beneaththebirches]

Seafoam Green

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader

Summary: Rafe and the reader meet at Midsummer and continue their most recent naughty shenanigans.

A/n: Just a reminder this is a repost from my original account @sublimecatgalaxy! Love you all!

Midsummer is the same every year.

Loud music, drunk adults, bored teenagers wandering around, stealing sips of parents drink when they're not looking, too enthralled in conversations of wealth and status with others.

The whole night is just a fun excuse to get dressed up and pretty, an excuse to make people look at you with wide, intrigued eyes- it's like the one night of the year where girls can be princesses without strange looks. Pretty but dainty diamond tiara's, flowing dresses, a sneak peak underneath for those you end up going home with.

My dress is green, his favorite color, a dash of silver and green on my eyelids, sparkling under the twinkling lights just enough to get the attention of who I want.

It's been all night and he's yet to notice me from across the room but I've noticed him; black suit, a pale green shirt underneath, his hair swooped to the side in a calculated way and it makes me feel drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.

When he notices me, he looks around- almost to see if anyone's watching- before he approaches me with a kind smile, eyes dipping down the front of my dress, giving me a once over as his cheeks blush an auburn red.

"You look stunning." He smiles, holding his hand out to me which I gladly take, slipping my hand into his as he leads me away from the bar and to the wooden floor where, mostly, the older people dance. He pulls me flush against him with a grin, hand slipping down my exposed back and I instinctually wrap my arms around his neck, securing myself to him.

"You look good too, Rafe." I soothe my hands down the front of his suit and he grins, hands gripping my waist as we wander slowly throughout the dance floor, skilled and untouched by the laughing couples around us. Like it's only us.

"We matched." He smiles, pinching the fabric of my dress as I give him a simple knowing nod, shoulders shrugging.

"I'm smarter than you think I am." He grins wickedly at the confident smirk that I give him and he bends me back over his arm, dipping me skillfully without wobbling in the slightest.

"You're more beautiful that you think you are." His eyes seem to be fixated on the ways that my lips spread out into a bashful smile, tongue sweeping out to wet my lips as I lift myself to his ear, whispering quietly so only he can hear me.

"I just thought you would like to know that I’m not wearing any underwear right now." His body turns to stone against mine, hands stalling momentarily from the sweet circles he was drawing into my skin with his thumbs and I feel a rush of confidence wash over me as I lower myself back down to my heels. "Do what you must with this information."

"Come with me." He says without another word, gripping my hand and dragging me past both of our parents and into the building. I can already see the bathroom in view and know what this means, nervous butterflies swarming in my stomach at the thought of feeling him. "I want you to bad." He mutters, shoving the door open with a bang and locking the door after giving the bathroom a once over as we finally find ourselves alone. "Sit down." He orders and my brows furrow, not sure why I would have to be sitting down for him to fu-

"What're you-" I start but he forces me down into the seat without looking up into my eyes, his whole body lowering in front of me so he can kneel on the ground between my thighs, hands already working on pushing up the fabric of my dress as it dawns on me what he wants. He's never done this for me before.

"Bend your legs, sweetheart." He pats my thighs gently and I do what he says, not in the mood to argue and give him any push back when he's look up at me like that, eyes full of excited lust as he whispers against the sensitive skin of my thighs. "Fuck, you're so beautiful."

[redheadmuncher]

A Little Help?

warnings: fem!reader, drugs, cullingunus, riding her face, dub-con??

desc: Your usual comes into the brothel you work at, after dealing with the mess Vi and others have been making in the Undercity.

You waited near the bar, sipping your martini. It was another slow day at the brothel. You typically do not work this much, clients were hesitant to visit the brotel considering Silcos minions were barricading and seizing shops to find someone. That reminds you, you’re usual hadn’t come for the past few days, and she pays heavy. Everytime she’s here, you leave with a purse spilling of money. You huffed, playing with your straw in your martini. Just then, you smell that signature smell, her cigar, no one else smoked that kind of cigar around here. A smile played on your lips as you turned to see your favorite client, Sevika. 

You skipped on over, studying her face, she looked mad, real mad. You expected as much, with Silco doing this much around Undercity, Sevika was sure to have a ton of work to do. Of course she’s here to blow off steam, how much? Who knows. 

“Here, for 4 hours. I need to get work done.” Sevika said, shoving a fat load of cash to your chest, walking past you , taking a drag from her cigar as she went to her assigned VIP room. As usual, you crawled into her lap, kissing her lips, jawline and neck. Your eager hands unbuckling her belt. You looked up at her like a dog waiting for water as she stood up, sliding her trousers down. And adjusting herself back onto the chair. 

You kissed along her thigh as she held a few documents in hand. As you pressed your tongue against her cunt, her eyes remained on the papers, as if she was unamused by your performance.  

“What is it with you today Y/N? Do your job or I'll get someone who can.”  

Her voice dripping with irritation. She gripped your hair, looking at your with disapproval making you look up at her. She took a vial of Shimmer from her bandolier. 

“This’ll help” 

She poured it into your martini, she handed it to you. You were hesitant, you knew she wouldn’t have it today, if you continued like this she’d take her payment back. With a sigh, you gulped it down. You felt it from your fingertips to your toes, suddenly your body felt light. Within an instant, your head was shoved between her legs. Your tongue revenging her like never before. It made you feel alive, you wanted so much more. You could feel her breaking apart with every lick. Your giggles haunting her as you slid fingers in. She had enough of it.. suddenly lifting you in the air as she lied down. 

“Go on, sit”

She told you, with pleasure you sat on her face riding it. You were on the top of the world, smearing your juices onto Silco’s right hand woman, the talk of Undercity. You giggled and moaned, biting your acrylic nail as her pierced tongue explored you inside and out. A guttural moan escaped your lips as you helplessly rode her face, her short hair being the rein. Needy whimpers fell from your lips as the room spun around you, swallowing as your eyes rolled back, creaming on her face. It made you wish maybe that pink haired girl would visit often, to have Sevika riled up like this was a novelty. By then, her work was long gone, she’d have to receive that scolding from Silco later, tonight her pockets will be emptied. 

[mattsturnioloz]

Then I lost you: Pt 3.

Part 1, Part 2.

Summary: Matt's career as a youtuber takes a toll on his 4 year relationship with his girlfriend, putting it on hold. Will it ever be the same again?

Pairings: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Warnings: angst, crying, cursing, anxiety, mentions of depression, unsolved angst, mentions of slighty physical argument.

A/N: (i’m so exhausted but y’all have been hyping me up so it’s giving me motivation to keep writing, get some tissues readyyyy👅)

The uber driver pulls up to the house and I say my thank you’s before getting out the backseat and closing the door. I go up to the front door and reach for my purs- my purse. FUCK! MY PURSE. I sigh. I must’ve left it at top golf. I don’t want to text Matt.. Not after our argument. But i’m stuck outside. Fuck it, i’ll text Nick. I open my phone and I open nicks contact.

Messages

Y/n: Hey Nick, I left my purse with my keys over there, do you think you can grab it for me please?

Nick: Yea sure.

I was just about to type out a message but nick sent another text.

Nick: oh wait, Matt already grabbed it.

oh.

Y/n: oh okay thanks.

Nick: Are you guys okay? Are YOU okay?

Y/n: I’m pissed at him, he’s been so distant and i’ve just been trying to talk to him more and spend time with him, then he just snapped at me.. in front of everyone too.

Nick: Yea that wasn’t right, I told him to go apologize and he genuinely looked guilty but then he came back all pissy and told me and chris that you guys just argued more.

Y/n: Yea, and i’ll admit that I shouldn’t have shoved him but I was just so mad and hurt that I acted on anger.

Nick: Understandable, I need to shove him all the time LMAO😭

Y/n: LMAOO😭 Trust me I KNOW. When are you guys coming home? i’m stuck outside until you guys get here.

Nick: We’re already on our way so about 20 minutes now.

20 minutes?? Im freezing.

Y/n: oh okay, see you soon. Love you :)

Nick: Love you too, see you soon :)

———- ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆———-

I sit on the ground slumped against the door and wait for Matt, Nick and Chris to get here. The air so cold that my skin gets itchy and stings when I scratch at it and my face feels hot from all the crying I did. I see them pull up and my heart stops. I’m scared to see Matt. I don’t want to see Matt.

I feel my heart start to beat out of my chest. The beating affecting my vision, pumping with the beat. My anxiety making my hearing heighten. Making me focus on all the things I hear.

The sound of them shutting the doors of the car. The sound of the night wind gusting past my body. The sound of the car beeping when matt locks it. The sound of their feet on the wet cold rubble, getting closer and closer. The sound of the raindrops from the roof, falling on a random empty tin barrel across the street.

Im caught out of my daze when they reach me and I wave hi to Nick and Chris who both flash me a smile. I fidget with my rings nervously as Matt unlocks the front door, not sparing me a glance ever since they got here.

They start to walk inside after Matt opens the door, and I let go of a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I take one last breath of the fresh air outside before I follow them in, immediately being hit with the smell of the ravioli I made before we left.

I walk to Matt and I’s shared bedroom closing the door behind me. I grab some pj’s and a towel to take a shower since I smell like wet dog from being outside in the cold for so long.

I open the door and when I do Matt is there and I feel my chest tighten. We just stare at eachother and I secretly wish for him to say something. anything. Instead he brushes past me walking into the room. My heart aches and I feel tears well up in my eyes again, a few falling as I walk to the bathroom, shutting the door.

I take a deep breath and wipe my tears trying to keep my composure. I turn on the shower before undressing myself and I step in, feeling the warm soothing water wander my body.

After I showered, I get out and dry my body, head to toe before wrapping my hair in a towel. I change into shorts and a t-shirt before brushing my teeth and grabbing my dirty clothes from the floor then I open the bathroom door, leaving and tossing the dirty clothes into the wash.

I walk into Matt and I’s bedroom and I don’t look at him but from the corner of my eye and I can see him sitting on his side of the bed, slumped against the headboard, scrolling through his phone. I take the towel off my head and rest it on Matt’s gaming chair to dry before making my way to my side of the bed.

I get under the covers, my back facing Matt as I get comfortable. There’s an awkward silence. Nothing feels the same anymore. I feel depressed and anxious and I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I close my eyes hoping to get some sleep after the shitty day I had.

———- ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆———-

Days turn into weeks and Matt and I haven’t even talked since the day we argued. The bed feels emptier and emptier as the days pass even though he’s still there. I’ve had enough and this time before bed I decide go speak to him.

“M-Matt..” I ask with a shaky voice. I get no reply. “Matt.” I say louder. “What Y/n.” He says in a rude tone. “Can we talk? please?” I plead. He lets out a long sigh and he sits up to look at me for the first time in weeks, So I do the same.

I look into his icy blue eyes. God, how i’ve missed them… except they were sharper, colder. “Listen, I just want to say that i’m sorry, and miss you so much, I- ”

“Stop.” He says, cutting me off. “I don’t want to hear you say sorry. I just- i’m not happy anymore and I can tell you feel the same way.” He says looking right into my eyes. His gaze sharp.

My hearts drops and feels like it’s sinking into the pit of my stomach. I want to cry, I want to cry so bad but I try to hold my tears back. Deep down, I know what he’s saying is true. We’re not happy anymore.

“Look.. Of course I love you y/n, I love you so much you don’t even understand.” He says. cupping my face, his thumbs gliding across my cheeks, and I break into silent sobs, already knowing where this is going. “But it’s hard.. hard being in a relationship when I also have the career that I have.” He continues.

“N-no! w-we can make this work just-jus- PLEASE-” I practically yell, sobbing as I grab his hands from my face, kissing them before gripping them in my hands in front of my chest. I know I look pathetic begging him to stay with me, but I can’t help it, I can’t lose him. I love him too much. He pulls his hands away.

“N-no w-what are you do-“ I say, having a cold feeling running down my spine and all throughout my body. “JUST STOP! STOP Y/N!” he interrupts, yelling at me. “Can’t you see?! this isn’t working!! it’s not working anymore baby..” His voice cracks.

I look down, my sobs stopping. I feel numb and empty. Like everything good I had in my life came crashing down. Like I have no future. Not if he’s not in it.

1,277 words.

A/N: (I am tired yall omggg. Im so sorry to do yall like this but I had no choices😖 I’ll most likely write part 4 tomorrow or wednesday. Depends on how i’m feeling :) thank yall for the support i appreciate it!!)

Taglist: @watercolorskyy @imwetforyourmom @starzinasblog @urfavstromboli @sturniqloo @star-yawnznn @h3arts4harry

[lvnleah]

Hi!! I said about lotte earlier, I’d love some kind of lotte x reader maybe early in relationship and reader has a fight with her family which she ends up spilling to the team in changing room/ team night. lotte instinctively gets really protective/ angry which puts their relationship to the group? or maybe something to do with a creepy fan at a match, lotte gets protective and their relationship is shared online? feel free to make any changes ❤️❤️

Under Pressure | Lotte Wubben-Moy

thank you so much for this request <33

word count: 900 a little short one!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The hum of the changing room settled as you took a deep breath, peeling your training top off. The atmosphere was filled with the usual banter, chatter about the training session, weekend plans, and who got the most nutmegs that day. You had kept quiet for most of the day, a smile here and there, nodding along to your teammates’ chatter. But your mind was still spinning, replaying the argument with your family earlier that day.

You had walked out of that conversation, your head pounding, feeling like you had been run over by a truck. You couldn’t shake the hurtful words, the way their disbelief in your relationship with Lotte had made you feel so small. It was one thing for them to disapprove of your career in football, but to disapprove of her, of something that made you so happy, was a punch to the gut.

You and Lotte had been together for three months now, after being friends for so long you both decided it was time to try something new. Your family had never approved of you being a footballer let alone you being in a relationship with a woman.

“You okay?” Leah nudged you, bringing you back to reality instead of being inside of your head.

You forced a smile. “Yeah, just a bit tired. Didn’t get a lot of sleep.”

She didn’t seem convinced but thankfully didn’t push further. You were grateful for that, not sure if you’d be able to keep up the fake smile much longer. You wanted to scream, to vent, to let it all out, but you were also terrified of breaking down in front of everyone.

Later that night, the team decided to head to a local pub. A night out with the team was meant to be a distraction. The usual post-training hangout was filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and friendly teasing. But the mask you wore all day was starting to crack. Lotte, sitting across from you, noticed too. Her eyes flickered with concern, and she reached out under the table, her hand squeezing yours. It was a simple gesture, but it almost made you crumble.

“Babe, are you sure you’re okay?” she whispered, leaning in close so only you could hear. Her voice was gentle, her thumb brushing against your knuckles.

You nodded, but the lump in your throat only grew. “Yeah, just family stuff.”

You could see the flicker of anger in her eyes, her jaw tightening slightly. She hated that you were hurting and hated even more that it was because of them. You loved her protective side, but right now, you needed her to stay calm. The last thing you wanted was to drag the team into this.

But the dam broke when someone asked innocently about your family. “They still giving you grief about football?” Viv asked, her tone light but laced with genuine concern.

You hesitated, the weight of the day pressing down on you. “Not just about football,” you muttered, and the words spilled out before you could stop them. “They… they don’t understand why I’m with Lotte. They don’t think it’s serious, and they don’t think she’s… right for me.”

Silence settled over the group. You looked up to find everyone staring at you, the concern and sympathy evident in their faces. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and you wished you could take the words back, shove them down where they wouldn’t see the light of day.

Lotte’s hand tightened around yours, “That’s bullshit,” she said, “You deserve better than that.”

Your eyes widened, and you tried to give her a look, something to tell her to calm down, but she was on a roll now, her anger radiating off her in waves. “They don’t know what they’re talking about. You’re amazing, and if they can’t see that, then screw them. You don’t need their approval.”

The room was silent, everyone watching the two of you with wide eyes. It dawned on you then that she had said all this in front of the entire team. It wasn’t like you were hiding your relationship, but you hadn’t exactly put it out there either. You had wanted to keep it private, to let it grow naturally, without the pressure of everyone knowing. But now, there it was, out in the open.

You swallowed hard, glancing around the table. Leah was looking at you with a small, knowing smile, Viv and Beth exchanged a look, and the rest of the team seemed to be processing this new information.

“Uh, well, I guess that’s out now,” you said with an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of your neck.

Lotte turned to you, her anger melting away, replaced by a soft, almost apologetic expression. “Sorry, I just… I hate seeing you like this. I didn’t mean to…”

You shook your head, squeezing her hand. “It’s okay. I just hate that they get to me so much.”

She smiled softly. “I’m sorry.”

You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

A collective “awww” went around the table, and you could feel your cheeks burning as you pulled away, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Maybe it wasn’t how you planned to reveal your relationship, but looking around at the team’s warm, accepting smiles, you realised it didn’t matter.

[kcaitlyn]

hc. how i imagine the yj girls in relationships. part 1 (pre-crash nat, van, tai, lottie. others in pt. 2)

A/N: fem!reader, nsfw references, but nothing crazy. mention of drugs, alc. ooc, possibly? not proofread well cause who has time am i rite, been a while since i've watched yj lol. if this does well, i might do a post-crash version..

NATALIE

𓇼 Your relationship with Nat would be 110% banter, no doubt about it. Teasing (in and out of bed), name calling, little pokes and bites are a constant for you two. I feel like she's not the best (intentionally or not) at being traditionally romantic, so instead of heartfelt declarations of love, you're more likely to receive a 'yeah, you're pretty cool' or a 'I suppose you're not too bad' accompanied by a grin and kiss instead. However, that's not to say she doesn't express her love in other ways.

𓇼 Skipping class to sit with her friends together at least once per day, and cramming a whole semester’s worth of notes together when her (and/or your) grades eventually slip. Although, I doubt much would get done..

𓇼 I feel like most of your dates or hangouts would be outside- not necessarily doing anything, just relaxing by a lake or on some random curb in Wiskayok to escape your families (mostly Nat’s) and just to catch a break from everything.

𓇼 When you are together at someone’s place though, it would be your house more often than her’s. Nights would consist of sneaking in through windows, trying to stifle giddy laughs and smoking on the rooftop of your home or her trailer.

𓇼 Natalie would 100% be sneaking you in and out of the school locker rooms, too. She thinks it’s a shame to waste such a private space, always pulling you in there to make out or just relax in-between periods (much to the rest of the team’s annoyance. They’ve actually started a petition to ban you).

𓇼 Natalie pretends not to notice, but deep down seeing you in the bleachers during her games always makes her mushy. Seeing you cheering for her, encouraging her- it only makes her play harder.

𓇼 She’s always super affectionate after games, too- running up to you and squeezing you, all sweaty and tired. The evenings after more often than not would consist of weed and cuddles, Natalie being the little spoon as you massage her sore muscles, laughing and talking about whatever comes to mind.

𓇼 Speaking of, if you’re down for it then Natalie would absolutely revel in getting high with you. Relaxing, sharing a blunt, cuddling, making out and letting her eat you out is an insanely common occurrence- her favorite way to spend her time. Sharing any drugs she got from her friends with you, yet her loyalty to you would never even come close to wavering even under the influence.

𓇼 This girl would be incredibly loyal. Natalie knows abandonment, she knows being fucked over by someone else- and never ever would she subject you to that on her terms. Although her communication may not be the best, and her temper’s far from perfect, she’ll always stick by your side.

𓇼 I feel like she’d be the jealous type, too. Fights and bickering between you two wouldn’t be far apart, but never serious- and always mended with tender cuddles, sex and apologies after.

VAN

𓇼 For some reason I have this feeling that pre-crash Van was super outdoorsy and adventurous. I can imagine her dragging you along to camping trips, hikes, time on the lake or just to spend time hanging out in nature.

𓇼 Definitely with her family, too. Van to me seems like her family and partner would come first in her heart, and would love to spend time with everyone together.

𓇼 Super playful. Van would be the type to always tease, always joke. You wouldn't be able to count on two hands the amount of times she's shoved a bug in your face, or chased you around with a spider.

𓇼 (Always met with soft chuckles and apologies, your face attacked with remorseful kisses and holding you for hours. Until she does it again.)

𓇼 Van would be very, very touchy and affectionate. Quality time and physical touch are 100% her main love languages, along with teasing meaning this girl cannot keep her hands off you. An arm around your waist or shoulder when you're out with friends, holding hands as you weave through trees, even pinkies or feet touching under a table in class. She can't get enough of you.

𓇼 Basically, Van's best comparable to a loving little dog- always at your hip, your biggest fan. Any sports you play, hobbies you indulge in- she's there to encourage you.

𓇼 And when you reciprocate at her matches, cheering her on proudly from the bleachers? You've probably had her so distracted and giddy that she's missed a few balls whizzing into the goal beside her.

𓇼 She would take you celebrating after her wins, to your most common date spot (and Van's personal favorite), the cinema. With Van, you'd be there at least once a week. What can she say, two of her favorite things? You, and movies? A chance to geek out together? Why wouldn't she insist you go nearly each day after school?

𓇼 Although, I feel like Van could be a little oblivious and dismissive at times. After unknowingly receiving flirting from some other girl at a party or unknowingly saying something that could be perceived as flirting when she was drunk, Van might be quick to wave it off as an accident. This could spark fights between you two, but quickly after seeing how it affected you Van would be quick to apologise and come to.

𓇼 (May I add that in those scenarios, she 100% turns into a service top, as part of the apology of course. Anything to make her girl happy.)

TAI

𓇼 Taissa’s definitely a more mature and slow paced partner compared to some of the other Yellowjackets, like Natalie or Lottie. Your relationship would be a lot more domestic than them, too.

𓇼 Sure, you and Tai would still attend parties together, you would get to support her at her soccer matches and do all the usual teenage stuff together. However, dates where you just co-exist the way adult couples do would be a staple in your relationship. Cooking together, tagging along to run errands, lazy Sundays in are common when you’re with Tai.

𓇼 Your relationship would also be very academic, too. Study dates, talking for hours about what career you strive for and how awesome everything would be after graduation. Revising together made fun, taking an item of clothing off for each failed cue-card or only getting a kiss if you can correctly recall something.

𓇼 Tai wouldn’t be down for PDA at all. She’d definitely be the type to be affectionate behind closed doors only, not just out of embarrassment but in favour of keeping her romantic and public life seperate (a fact that holds true especially as she gets older).

𓇼 Tai’s communication and openness is a strong point in your relationship, but I feel conflicts could stem from the idea she wasn’t intending to stay with you long run. Tai’s grand plans to leave for university, have her share of lovers- she was never intending your relationship to last past high school.

𓇼 However, after whatever fights or even temporary breakup ensues, Tai would realise that you’re worth more to her than a high school romance and that she can really see herself with you in the long run.

LOTTIE

𓇼 As long as you're with Lottie, you wouldn't lift a finger- let alone a credit card. She's got you covered.

𓇼 I feel like Lottie’s the type of partner to love just.. existing in the same vicinity as you. It majorly stems from her decent, but lonely childhood- parents always out of the house leaving Lottie by herself.

𓇼 But now that Lottie has you, any time she’s just at home alone- be it studying, training or just relaxing she’s always quick to call you over. Luckily for you two, you have all the privacy in the world alone in her large home to do whatever you please.

𓇼 Lottie’s primary love languages are 100% Gift giving, and quality time. Any time she’s out and sees some little trinket that reminds her of you, best believe she’s stealing buying it. On top of that, any chance to be near you Lottie takes. You’re running an errand? She’ll be there. Lottie’s heading to do some after school practice? You can come, and read a book on the bleachers or something. Just so you’re near. Just so you’re close.

𓇼 I feel like Lottie’s not too big on PDA, but doesn’t entirely hate it, either. Full on kissing or making out isn’t on the cards in your relationship, but linking fingers, holding hands or leaning against each-other is totally okay by her- whatever makes her girl happy. Another thing Lottie loves is sharing a headphone cord with you- or singing along loudly to music in her car. However, around her family Lottie would be colder and more reserved with her affection.

𓇼 Lottie wouldn’t necessarily flaunt your relationship like Jackie- but she wouldn’t be shy, either. If someone asks, they’d likely be met with a- ‘yeah, I’m with (y/n), she’s my girlfriend’, or something along those lines. She isn’t secretive about you by any means, just casual. Keeping you to herself. She wouldn’t be vocal about jealousy, either. Just clingy, or sad.

𓇼 I also have a feeling that since Lottie’s always had access to quality clothes, items and whatever else- having something with real sentimental value rather than monetary value would mean so much more to her than a regular gift. Little homemade keychains or a good luck charm is something I can totally see her carrying around with her, especially since it was made by you.

𓇼 Since all her meals were made by nannies, her room cleaned by maids, having you there to do all that with her really resonates deep inside Lottie’s heart. Having you there to teach her how to do the things she never had to learn- how to cook, wash her clothes, empty a vacuum- it means so much to her.

𓇼 I feel like Lottie can be a real tease, too. Cheeky banter back and forth similar to Natalie, except she’s better at expressing her love sincerely. It’s all situational with Lottie- teasing and cheeky, or tender and soft. No matter how she is, though- Lottie’s loyalty is made clear.

𓇼 Although, at times I think Lottie could grow distant and pull herself away from you when she’s overwhelmed, angry or tired. If you try and talk to her, she might get frustrated and say something she really didn’t mean- again, likely stemming from her family. However, once she’s cooled off, Lottie would do anything in her power to make it up to her partner.

𓇼 Little gifts, massages, fancy dates or just fucking you for hours- anything to pamper you, take care of you. On that note, Lottie’s totally a switch, but greater than that, a huge service top. She wants nothing more than to make you feel good, happy and safe.

𓇼 In terms of pet names, I feel like Lottie would steer away from the really corny and sappy ones, settling for a variant of your name or something simple like ‘love’ or ‘babe’. Study hangouts would also be really common between you two, and even more often than that just lounging around at her place or going to parties together.

[enjoythesilentworld]

💜 wilmon;

Simon kissed him that night in the dormitory corridor just outside his room.

im not gonna lie, i did forget i still had two of these sitting in my inbox... here we are! i feel like i almost never write 16-yo Wilmon. look at me broadening my horizons :D (the next one is probably going to be back to crime and violence so i am not straying far or for very long lol)

Simon kissed him that night in the dormitory corridor just outside his room, and Wille froze.

Sure, they’d been holding hands for the past hour while watching the movie, and they’d spent more time looking at each other and giggling than actually looking at the screen, but this was a new, scary thing for Wille. He didn’t know how these things worked, and he did not want to mess it up! So, he froze, and went and messed it up anyway. 

By the time he came to his senses, Simon was already vanishing out the door at the end of the hall.

“Simon!” he whisper-yelled, not wanting to get in trouble for being up so late. “Wait!” 

It had rained earlier, so his socks were soaked the second he ran out onto the gravel walkway heading off from the dorm house. He didn’t much care.

“Simon!” 

Luckily, though Simon was booking it to the bus stop, hands shoved into his pockets and head tucked down, Wille was fast enough to catch up. 

Slightly out of breath from his sudden sprint, Wille caught him by the shoulder and gasped, “Simon, wait.” 

“Wille—” Simon’s cheeks were flushed, and he wouldn’t meet Wille’s eye. “Look, can we just not? I didn’t—”

“You kissed me,” Wille said, his hand still on Simon’s arm, though the boy tried to shrug it off. 

Simon tensed and shuffled his feet, staring at the ground. “I’m sorry, I just thought—”

“Do it again.” 

This time, Simon did look up.

“What?” 

“Simon,” Wille smiled softly, gaze flickering between Simon’s surprised, confused eyes and his soft, pretty lips. “Kiss me again.”

[vodika-vibes]

Hiiiii!

Congrats on the 800 followers, it's awesome! 🤩

I'd like to request a Fox'ikaxReader (fem or gn, your choice 💗) with the movie marathon prompt, and let it be so fluffy like a cotton candy 🥺🥹💗

Thank yooouuu 🦊💗

Tonight

Summary: When you have to cancel date night due to circumstances beyond your control, you expect Fox to be angry. You don’t expect him to show up anyway.

Pairing: Commander Fox x GN!Reader

Word Count: 814

Prompt: Movie Marathon

Warnings: None

A/N: Thank you! And thank you for the request! I hope you like it~

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

You sniffle and bury yourself under another fleece blanket as you shiver.

It’s not fair. You had tonight's date planned for weeks, planned almost to the minute. And yet, when you woke up this morning, it was with a fever, a sore throat, and body aches.

Serves you right for ignoring your grandmother’s warning about her being sick and visiting her anyway.

And, while you were willing to take drugs and push through the illness, when Fox called you to ask when you wanted him to arrive for your date, he could tell that you were sick.

You didn’t even have the energy to argue against him when he told you that your health was more important than dinner.

He didn’t even sound disappointed, or maybe he did. Your head hurts too much to think about it too much.

You start when your doorbell rings. You’re not expecting company. Not anymore, at least.

But, even so, you roll off the couch and drape your fleece blanket around you like a cape, and walk over to the door. A press of a button unlocks the door, and another button allows the door to slide open, and you squint at the man on the other side of the door.

You really should have put your glasses back on.

Even without your glasses, though, you’re still able to recognize Fox.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, startled. Though you do move out of the way to let him in your home.

“I wanted to see you.” His reply is simple, “Besides, no one should be alone when they’re sick.” Fox holds up the canvas bag that he’s carrying, “I bring soup and movies.”

You blink at him, dumbly, for a moment. “You didn’t have to do that.”

A cool hand presses against your burning cheek and the noise you release can only be called a purr as you lean into the only comfortable thing you’ve felt all day.

Fox laughs, it’s a quiet and affectionate sound and you peer up at him. He’s standing close enough that he’s not blurry, and the look on his face—

Well, it’s reminiscent of the way that your dad looks at your mom when she’s not paying attention.

But you’re not quite able to handle that thought, so you push it to the side and focus on the more important comment he made, “You brought food?”

“I did.” Fox gently nudges you further into your apartment, “Go lay down, cyare.” 

Obediently, you stumble back to the couch and shove some of the many blankets to the floor so you’re able to sit on the actual couch. You grab your glasses and place them back on your face so you’re able to watch Fox properly.

“You’re sleeping on the couch?” He asks from the kitchen, where he appears to be sorting soup into two bowls.

“I tried resting in bed, but it felt like a boulder was lying on my chest,” You reply honestly. Though you regret your honesty when he crosses the room and kneels at your feet, his hand moving to press against your forehead.

“Do I need to call my medic to come and take a look at you?”

“I’m fine. It’s just a cold.”

He doesn’t believe you but accepts your words as fact for now. And then he returns to the kitchen and grabs the two bowls before he returns to your side. “I bought it from a place not far from here.” Fox explains, “Just eat what you can.”

“I don’t think I can eat two bowls,” You point out.

Fox laughs again, “Well, good. Because one of those belongs to me.”

“You’re staying? I thought—”

“What? That I would drop off soup and movies and let you fend on your own?” You feel his hand smooth over your hair, and you feel a surge of affection for the man who hasn’t sat down just yet, “Just because we had to cancel our formal date, doesn’t mean that we can’t still have a date.”

Great, now you want to cry because of how sweet he’s being.

“You…uh…you said you brought movies?”

“Yeah, I raided Thorn’s collection. I haven’t seen any of them.” Fox lifts the small device, “Though, Thorn really only watches horror movies, I hope you don’t mind.”

You shake your head, “You’re here to protect me.”

“Well, you’re not wrong about that.”

Half an hour later, you’re sprawled across Fox’s chest while the pair of you watch one of Thorn’s movies. Well, Fox is watching it, you’re more asleep than awake, your ear pressed over his heart.

He doesn’t seem all that bothered that you’re covered in blankets, or that you’re not really paying attention to the movies. And his hand slowly strokes your back, slowly easing you into slumber.

It’s not the date you had planned, but somehow it’s so much better.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@Mira-Loves-Star-Wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

[opiopal]

listen

I HATE belphie as much as the next person who doesn't like dying,

however......

cuddling with him has got to go so hard, imagine not being able to sleep, its been hours, you just cant seem to relax. everything just seems to finally be crashing down and your brain is doing EVERYTHING but turning off for a few hours. so, struggling to even be awake you slug out of bed and towards the twins room, you open the door and the only thing you see is beel sitting on the bed eating enough chips to feed a small village for the winter, he looks over with his stupid cute face and you sigh "hey"

"hey.. wheres the other one?"

"attic,"

"of course.. thanks bubs,"

you close the door behind you and slug up the basement stairs, the second you enter the cozy room you feel a blend of emotions, for a moment you remember everything that had happened there, but its washed away quickly as your mind returns to its original goal-go to bed before you're to tired to go to school tomorrow.

you approach the bed and shove belphie out of the center with all your might and lay next to him, surprisingly you laying down is what wakes him up, not being thrown around

"hm..?"

"shut up,"

you wrap your arms around him, and without a second thought he replaces you with his pillow,

"cant sleep..?

"when can I ever.."

"fair,"

for once you can appreciate his lack of attitude, this has happened a few times and you're grateful he doesn't tease you about your struggles... at least when you're frustrated like this. any other time he'd use it against you, however he cares about you, so he's willing to help you get some well deserved sleep.

you feel him trace circles around the back of your neck, it feels odd, his fingers are cold but feel nice, you hadn't even noticed how warm you felt until his fingers made contact with your skin. though, this is just how he prefers to use his magic. you can tell by the way your pact mark reacts to it, it copies the comforting chill. it feels slow and lazy, just like him of course, though slowly your mind starts to blank. school, work, meetings, everything slowly fades away as you finally are able to close your eyes and let your body and mind shut down.

in the morning you're typically able to sneak back to your room to get ready for the day before anyone can notice you weren't in your room and panic.

wouldn't be surprised if this is one of the many ways mc stays sane with all the bs they deal with lol.

[theslushiestnoob]

you should do an enemy’s to lovers (maybe slow burn? idk) with hamzah!

THE BOY NEXT DOOR - *:･ﾟ✧*: -

The first instalment in (potentially!) a new fanfic series where you’re Hamzah’s neighbour, inspired by this request (thank you!) 💕

Word count: 1.1k

——————————————————————————

I got out of my car, my legs aching from sitting for so long. Chill air whipped across my face as I looked up at my new apartment building, ivy creeping across its faded brickwork and warm light spilling from the windows. A smile crept across my face as I turned to the boot of the car, unloading some of the boxes into my arms.

I ascended the stairs, stopping on the fourth floor in front of the blue door. I balanced my boxes on my thigh, fumbling to shove the keys into the door. Swinging open with a click, the door granted me entrance into my new flat. I walked through the threshold, placing the boxes on the floor and stretching my cramping arms. Wandering through the empty rooms, I was unable to contain my joy and excitement. Every bare wall, every vacant corner, I can fill this place with my favourite colours and patterns until it truly feels like mine.

This city would always be my home. I loved everything about Toronto, and ever since I was a child I knew that I was destined to be there. Moving into my first home away from my parents was simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating - a whole world of freedom and possibilities opened before me, but a whole bunch of responsibility and duty descended on my shoulders.

*

I unpacked the majority of my things before it started. The shouting.

Through my thin wall, I could hear a low voice occasionally shriek and howl with laughter. At first, it wasn’t too disruptive - I could drown it out with my music - but it rose to an infuriating volume. Who has the audacity to be so loud in a block of flats? As over an hour passed, such a long time that my body was tense with agitation, I decided to do something about it. I had to be brave and assertive, and let this impolite neighbour know that I wouldn’t put up with this. It was late evening, and if I wasn’t so preoccupied with unpacking my things I would almost certainly be in bed right now - I couldn’t have this shouting interrupting my sleep.

I threw open my front door, a half-unpacked box of clothes held at my hip as I stormed across the hall and knocked on the door. This close up, the shouts were even louder. I waited, placing the box at my feet to knock again, when the door swung open.

A man stood in the doorway, wearing a grey hoodie and headphones around his neck like a scarf. His eyes narrowed as he looked at me, clearly confused at my presence at his door - my agitated expression perplexing him further.

His eyes roved down my body, lingering on the fabric of my tank top stretched across my chest and the inch of skin showing above the waistband of my low joggers. I glared at him, folding my arms across my chest in frustration. This seemed to break him from his thoughts, his gaze returning to my face.

‘Uhh… can I help you?’ He asks, his hand lingering on the doorframe.

‘Yes, you can quiet down a bit.’

He looks slightly taken aback by my bluntness, but after a full day of travelling and unpacking I was not in the mood for kindness. His warm brown eyes widen, his long eyelashes fluttering as he pauses for a moment.

‘Sure, I’m sorry,’ He pauses and looks across the hall to my opened door, cardboard boxes littered across the visible patch of the floor. ‘Have you just moved in?’

‘Yep.’ I say humorlessly, satisfied with his apology and having no desire to continue the conversation.

I bend down to pick up the box, resting it on my hip. As I turn to return to my door, the bottom of the box explodes open, its contents tumbling onto the stranger’s doorstep.

I curse under my breath as I bend to gather my things, bundling the heaps of rumpled clothing into my arms.

Laughter bursts above me, muffled from a hand but obviously mocking.

I stand and rest my hands on my hips, staring intently into his amused expression.

‘Are you laughing at me?’

‘I mean, that was hilarious.’ He cocks his head as he smiles at me, his eyebrows furrowed as if his statement was blatantly obvious.

‘You’re a dick.’ I march to my door, kicking it open with my foot and slamming it behind me.

*

Finally finished unpacking and organising, I lay down on my bed. Exhaustion creeps over me, and I close my weary eyes in blissful rest. I listen to the noise of the city; cars whirring past, distant sirens, faint music spilling out from a nearby restaurant. Some may say it's unsettling, but to me, it has always been home. There’s no better way to spend a day than wandering the metropolis of the city, appreciating its urban beauty.

As I begin to fall asleep, there is a knock at my door. I groan, hoisting myself to my feet and padding toward the entrance.

I pull the door open, rubbing my eyes to adjust to the fluorescent hallway light.

Standing in my doorway is the stranger next door, his face half cast in shadow.

‘Oh, it’s you.’ I mumble, cocking my head in annoyance.

This seemed to amuse him, a small smile creeping onto his face as he narrowed his eyes. In this light, he is undeniably handsome - his wide eyes shining with the low lustre of the evening, his full heart-shaped lips curved into a faint smile. Loose brown curls escaped from his cap, framing his angular face in a halo of hair. This only fuelled my anger, though - such an agitating person shouldn’t deserve to be so pretty.

‘You left something at my place,’ He says amusedly, holding his hand out to reveal a yellow mini dress, obscenely low cut, that I had admittedly never worn due to the lack of occasion and self-confidence. I snatch it out of his hands, piercing him with my accusatory stare.

‘So you’re a thief now, too?’ I ask.

He holds his hands up in defence, his smile widening.

‘Hey, it must’ve fallen into my place when your box erupted everywhere.’

I roll my eyes at him, turning the dress over in my hands.

‘I bet you look really good in that,’ He adds with a smirk.

‘Goodbye,’ I said definitively, closing the door on him. Before it can click shut, his palm slaps against it, holding it ajar.

‘I’m Hamzah, by the way,’

‘Nice to meet you,’ I say sarcastically, eliciting a humoured smile from him.

‘And you are?’ He prompts.

I sigh, resting a palm against my forehead.

‘If I tell you, will you leave me alone?’

‘Indefinitely.’ He says with a curt nod.

I tell him my name, which he repeats as if tasting it on his tongue.

‘Hm. See you around, y/n,’ He says, pulling the door shut as he turns away from my flat.

——————————————————————————

Thank you for reading!

Please let me know if you enjoyed / would like me to continue this fic 😝

[addicted-to-dc]

Jekyll/Hyde Part 2 - Taskforce 141 x Reader

Tags for those who encouraged me to write this. Thank you!!! @greeniegreengreen @aeilani @poetslastdeath 

Link to Part 1

Content Warnings: Typical CoD violence, ptsd, reader is going to be unhinged (even more so in the next chapters).

The computer does all the work for you nowadays. Honestly, you expected this to be your time to think things over. ‘Meditate’ as Laswell calls it. Rumination sits better on your tongue. How in the world can you ruminate in conditions like these? The overhead lights are buzzing, a high-pitched constant ringing that’s giving you a migraine. It feels like an ice pick was shoved through your eye socket, the cold metal turning warm as it disturbs thousands of nerves.

The seclusion you needed has fucking left the building, leaving you alone with a team of walking dead men. Laswell didn’t tell them why you had so many deaths. One would assume that the common denominator (i.e. YOU) are the reason why families mourn their loved ones. With every step you take you can hear the jingle of all those tags, so many souls gone because you couldn’t stop digging for the truth.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to drag yourself out of your exhaustion. Your efforts only reward you with a sharp pain in your skull. Checking the time, you internally groan. Less than an hour until your dogs are here. Fuck, you miss them.

There’s a flick of a lighter, the scent of leather and wood assaulting your nose. Then tobacco invades your senses. “What’s on your mind?”

Captain Price, the man who started it all. He’s a survivor. He might stand a chance at what’s coming next. It’s been a while since you’ve interacted with a man this intense. He’s a smart one. The cigar erases the mustiness of the room. Smells like home. You can feel your body relax, albeit slightly. Maybe you just need a smoke.

“The only family I have left,” you reply, yanking out your cigarettes. Your only photo lies folded in the nearly empty pack. You flick it to Price, your aim true as it rolls to the edge of the table. “Three dogs. Sir, Bear, and Ruse.”

Ghost shifts slightly in his chair, dark eyes on the photo as soon as Price uncrumples it. “Cerberus?”

You can see recognition flash in Price’s eyes. In all of theirs. At least they don’t try to hide it. Sunshine leans forward, his eyes reevaluating you. “You’re The Huntress.”

It’s not a question. He knows. They all do. Price hands the photo to Mr. Mohawk. You shake your head, “I haven’t been called that in a long time.”

“Fuckin’ unstoppable is what you should be called,” Mr. Mohawk chuckles, looking up from the photo. “I’ve seen yer work. Thorough, precise, efficient, and batshit crazy.”

“They say you’re a sniper hunter,” Ghost states, eyes blazing with intrigue. “That true?”

You nod, your index finger running over the scar on your chin. Mr. Mohawk’s bright ass blue eyes bore into your own. “Why the name change?”

Your muscles tense, feeling the weight of hundreds of hands pulling you down, down, down… Broken nails tear at your flesh, opening old wounds that never fully healed right. The screams ring in your ears, curses that taint your very soul to this day. “A story for another day.”

“Is this your original taskforce?” Price asks, pulling your attention away from his sergeant.

“Yes, it is,” you reply, lighting up your last cigarette. “Picked every single one of them myself. Two Polish battering rams, Maryna and Urszula Kowalski. They were always at each other’s throats, but they were the devil and angel on my shoulder.”

You take a long drag. They were the first ones to die.

The frequent migraines and metal plate in your skull are because of them, cracking your skull open before you could even walk off the transport. Their deaths were too quick, but watching the Semtex burst in the sisters’ faces was cathartic. Liars always fail to earn mercy from you. Traitorous ones at least. You exhale, releasing the tension. They don’t deserve to weigh down your conscience.

“August Lindemann, a German tech genius. Spoiled us with all the newest gadgets on the field.” You chuckle, dark eyes meeting Price’s. “I always said they’d make us lose our edge.”

For all the brains he had, they didn’t look so special splattered across the wall. You fought through the entire base to get to him. Cowering like the leach he was until he was the only one left. It didn’t even take cutting off his precious fingers to find out who organized all of this: General Sheperd. You know this leads deeper into the abyss, merely scratching the surface of this conspiracy.

“The last one is American; best shot I’ve ever seen and an even better medic. Dane Reid was a serious man, but he always kept everyone together.”

His ring lies against your chest, right next to yours. You scratch your right ear, digging your nails into what’s left of your upper cartilage. He was the best shot, but your dogs were loyal to no one except you. Even your husband. Using yourself as a decoy was risky, but Sir, Bear, and Ruse tearing him apart made the sacrifice worth it. And the bullet you put into his heart? Even more so.

You can’t wait to see them again.

“You and the dogs are the only ones left?” Sunshine asks, gently taking the photo from Price. “How did Laswell find you?”

“Wandering the Russian forest with stolen data,” you reply, picking at your broken nail. “She found me and the dogs months later.”

“An’ yer team?” Mr. Mohawk questions. “Wha’ about them?”

“I killed them all,” you answer, putting out the cig. You’ll save it for later, death usually ruins the taste. “They tried to sabotage the op. I only got one name when all of it was said and done, and you want to know who it was?”

You scan over every single one of them. The truth always hurts to tell, but you need them to live. You can’t lose anymore, not when Laswell holds these men to the highest regard. What did she say to them? Oh, yes, you need a team to survive with you. There’s too much death permeating the air. The smell of burnt flesh burns your nose.

“General Herschel Sheperd,” you snarl, the rage of Hyde breaking past Jekyll’s walls. “Laswell says you’re looking for him, and I want my pound of flesh.”

You’re sure they can see the insanity in your eyes, the ferality that consumed you in the forests of Russia and nestled its way into your very soul. Split into two beings, one desperate for peace and the other salivating for revenge. You’re not a Captain anymore. You’re nothing. Just a revenant walking amongst the living until your duty is fulfilled. Peace was never an option for you in life, only in death. You accepted that the day you lost your team, your only family. One gaze bears the most weight.

Your eyes catch Ghost’s. Dark eyes penetrate your soul, reading the scripture of your heart. Loyalty broken, trusted allies and friends betraying old bonds. Killing them. Broken, a living being inhabited by the scraps of its own psyche. Two peas in a fucked-up pod. Your phone vibrates on the table, one singular message popping up on your screen: They’re here.

“Thank fuck,” you mumble, pocketing your phone. “They’re here.” You’re itching to leave, to run to the last semblance of family you have.

Clearly, you’re too easy to read. Price stands, the others following suit. “Let’s go meet them then.”

Sunshine barely has the door open when you slip through, quickly maneuvering through the shitty corporate layout of the building until you reach the side lot. You can see them. Tears threaten to cloud your vision as you see Sir chase Ruse around the grass. Bear lays in the shade. Laswell notices your approach, giving you a small nod. You whistle loudly, their playtime immediately put on halt. It takes a second for the noise to bounce around their brains, immediately whining once it finally clicked. Sir, the eldest German Sheperd, is the first one to make it to you, whining and jumping in your arms. His love is always overwhelming, but it’s welcome.

Sir manages to hold onto your shoulders, forcing you to catch him to regain your balance. Only for Ruse, the younger Shepherd, to knock you to the ground. It startles a laugh out of you, a smile following soon after. God, it’s been too long since you’ve seen them. Bear in all her glory runs up and sits at your feet. Your smart girl. A Rottweiler mix, probably shepherd, but her fur pattern always draws you in. You coo, using whatever body part you can to pet all three of them. “Yeah, I missed you, too.”

You sneak them treats, whispering sweet nothings to each of them as you try to make up for lost time. Six months away from them has been torture. Then again, you thought you’d never see them again. Every op feels like the last.

“Forgive them, it’s been half a year since we’ve seen each other,” you turn to the group, sputtering when Ruse licks into your mouth. “CERBERUS!”

They fall in line perfectly, ears perked and waiting for orders. A hand pops into view, and you take it. Sunshine pulls you up, chuckling at the slobber left behind. He tilts his head, eyes catching something on your chest.

Frowning, you look down. Your rings are exposed. Tearing off the necklace, you shove it into your pocket. You’re allowed to have your secrets.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

[mbat]

i think ive been a little bit depressed lately

[koishua]

my mom sitting there nodding along to my very emotional retelling of how i was chased by my classmate (actually my crush but she doesn't have to know that) who kept shoving a dead lizard in my face in ninth grade