fish-in-a-can

[missaengg]

An Innocent Question

Day 27 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Caleb x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, alternate universe - college, friends with benefits, cunnilingus, fingering, finger fucking, making out, p in v sex, caleb being a sexy little shit Prompts: Casual Sex/FWB | “Come here. I'll make it all better.” A/N: Yeee~ Finally wrote one for Caleb :) ao3 link here.

It started with an innocent question.

You were in Caleb’s dorm room, perched on his bed after you raced over the moment you finished moving in.

“Hey, Caleb, is it true that the average penis is between five and six inches long?”

You’d read that somewhere on the internet, and who better than Caleb, a man with a penis himself, to answer the question?

Caleb choked on his drink, spraying soda on his dorm room carpet that had definitely seen better days. “Pipsqueak, did ya just ask me about penises?”

“Yeah, I read it somewhere on the internet, and I was wondering if it was true.” You nonchalantly shrugged, confused as to why he was making such a big deal out of your question. “I mean, you have a penis, you should know, right?”

Caleb looked at you like you’d lost your goddamn mind. It was unnerving… how he was just staring at you without uttering a single word.

“You don’t have to be so weird about it,” you huffed.

“I’m not being– Pipsqueak, why’re ya asking me about penises?” Caleb asked, still eyeing you strangely.

“Six inches just seems like a lot, that’s all,” you said annoyed. “Whatever, forget I said anything.”

Caleb was still eyeing you with that strange look in his eyes when his expression shifted, a sudden thought dawning on him. “Pipsqueak, are ya a virgin?” he asked incredulously.

Of course he made it sound like it was this horrible thing to be one.

“N–no!” you blurted out, your cheeks burning.

Technically, you weren’t. A virgin, that is. You had a high school boyfriend who was your first and only experience in that realm, but the two of you had been inexperienced teenagers fumbling your way through the mechanics of sex, and well… it had been underwhelming to put it nicely. You’d always heard how fun sex could be, but you’d never experienced it yourself, and you were curious about how it might feel with someone different… someone more experienced… maybe even someone like Caleb…

Caleb smirked, and you felt your blood freeze in your veins because you knew that smirk. You knew it all too well. It was the shit-eating grin he’d get when he was about to ruthlessly tease you… and he loved teasing you.

“Pipsqueak’s still a virgin, eh?”

“I am not a virgin, thank you very much. Not that I have to prove anything to you, asshole.”

“Mmhmm.”

Your blood pressure skyrocketed. Caleb had this way of just burrowing under your skin, and you knew… you knew you were playing into his hands, but the skepticism in his gaze had you steaming, and you wanted nothing more than to scratch the disbelief off his face.

“I had a boyfriend in high school, jerk face,” you snapped, “and not that it’s any of your business, but we had sex, okay?”

Caleb mockingly nodded, that stupid impish glint in his eye glittering at you dangerously. “And lemme guess, it was just the one time and ya never orgasmed?”

You snapped your mouth shut, pressing your lips into a thin, tight line, the retort you wanted to throw at him dying in your throat because he was right. You had nothing to say to that. 

“So I’m right,” Caleb sniggered, and you bristled at the infuriating sound.

You hated when he was able to see right through you and used it for his own sick enjoyment.

“Well, I dunno what to tell ya, Pipsqueak.” Caleb shrugged. “I dunno about other guys, but I’m definitely bigger than six inches.”

Your mouth dropped open. Six inches already seemed like a lot of dick, and you couldn’t imagine anyone being bigger than your ex-boyfriend who had been roughly around five, and that had seemed massive to you at the time.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you cringed when you couldn’t stop the next question tumbling out of your mouth.

“Can I see?”

Caleb’s eyes widened, shocked by your outrageous question. Hell, you shocked yourself asking something so ridiculous, but the next thing you knew, you found yourself splayed on top of Caleb’s extra-long twin size bed trembling violently while he obscenely licked away between your legs doing things with his tongue you never would’ve thought a tongue could do… never would’ve guessed he knew how to do.

Thrilling tingles were running up and down your back building into something you’d never felt before, a dizzying pressure of pleasure tightening in your stomach until you burst, and you shook uncontrollably against Caleb’s mouth suctioned to your bits, ecstasy rolling through you in torrid waves. 

“Thatta girl,” Caleb snickered. “Congrats on your first orgasm, Pipsqueak.”

You wanted to smack him. Or ask him to do that again. Or both. But you just laid there instead, flushed and spent, thinking about how much you’d been missing out in the sex department.

You and Caleb never spoke about what happened after you left. Not once.

But you thought about that night often, how explosive your climax had been from just his mouth, and if a mouth could make you feel so sinfully good, how much better would it be with an actual dick?

As the year progressed, you started dating, which wasn’t hard considering how desperate college boys were for female companionship, and while you didn’t go all the way with them, none of them came close to being able to pleasure you with their clumsy mouths the way Caleb did. They were too rough or too tentative. They used too much tongue or too much of their teeth. They ignored your sweet aching clit or stroked it with too broad of a touch.

Each tryst left you feeling more disappointed. Unsatisfied. Unfulfilled. And no matter how much you tried to relieve yourself of the pent-up frustration building between your legs using your own unpracticed fingers, you couldn’t. It just wasn’t the same.

Which was how you found yourself back in his room, a textbook in your hands, under the false pretenses of wanting his assistance with Biochemistry, one innuendo leading to another until your study session devolved into him shirtless, pinning you down on his narrow bed with his strong, muscular body.

The muscles on his back delightfully rippled under your palms, a stark reminder of how much he’d grown since he left for college. Caleb had always been athletic and toned, but this…?

His hungry lips crushed yours with deep, bruising kisses, his hot breath mingling with yours, sweeping you away in a cloud of his irresistible cologne. You were light headed and woozy, drowning in a sea of everything Caleb, and you wondered how it was possible for you to come undone so quickly from his kisses alone.

“Fuck, Pipsqueak, the things ya do to me,” he huskily groaned, and just the sound of the thready throb in his voice had electricity jolting down your spine and buzzing in your sex.

One large, calloused hand slipped under your shirt, roughly groping your soft breasts and tweaking your firm nipples, and the other trailed up your quivering thigh and under your skirt, deft fingers sliding into your slick opening and curling against a part of you that had you moaning shamelessly and seeing stars. 

He was kneading and pulling and pinching, and as you rocked your hips and arched your back, you thought it couldn’t just be Caleb who could make you feel this heavenly, surely there had to be someone out there who could make your body sing the way Caleb could?

The thought lingered in your mind afterwards for some time.

The next boy you dated felt promising. You weren’t his first girlfriend or his second or even his third. He was older than even Caleb, a senior mere months away from graduating with more experience in four years of college than you’d had in your entire life. He seemed kind and sweet, and he was… He was very sweet, but when you eagerly jumped into bed with him, desperate to feel what Caleb made you feel, you quickly realized he wasn’t very sweet at all. 

He didn’t quite know what to do with his hands or his tongue or his dick, often skipping the foreplay and jackhammering away until he finished without any regard to whether you had cum at all, and as he moaned away, you found yourself squinting at the ceiling wondering if it truly was just Caleb who could make you cum.

You ached. Your body craved release, and no one, not even yourself, was able to give it to you the way Caleb did with just his hands and his mouth. It was like you were addicted, and no matter who you sought out, it seemed as though they would never be good enough compared to his honeyed touch.

You squirmed sitting in his room, despondent at how disappointing your dating life had been. 

“So, how’s the boytoy?” Caleb asked, wiggling his eyebrows like the dumbass he was.

“Awful. We broke up.”

“Aww… why? He seemed nice.” 

You sighed, dejectedly twisting your hair around your fingers, relishing the sting of pain on your scalp when you twisted too hard. “The sex sucked.”

“Ew, Pipsqueak. I don’t need to hear about your sex life.”

“Caleb, you’ve eaten me out and fingered me twice already. I think that ship has sailed,” you stated, finding his response immature and silly.

“Just doesn’t feel right.”

“That… that doesn’t make any sense.” 

And it didn’t. It didn’t make any sense because this man had given you the most divine orgasms of your life and was grimacing at the thought of you having a sex life when the two of you had done practically everything, but actually fuck.

“Yea, I know.” He looked at you pointedly, something you couldn’t read flickering in his eyes. “I just don’t wanna hear about ya with other guys is all.”

You didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure how to interpret what he just said, but you didn’t dwell on it too deeply. You were occupied with the thoughts of yet another failed quest in finding someone other than Caleb to make you feel rapturous joy and whether perhaps… you were the problem.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, twisting your hands together in your lap. “Hey, Caleb?”

“Yeah?”

“Why can’t anyone I date make me cum?”

Caleb observed you silently, the gears slowly turning in his head. “Is that why the sex sucked? Cause ya didn’t have an orgasm?”

“Yeah. The only person who’s been able to give me an orgasm is…” You swallowed thickly. “...is you.”

You whispered the last two words, your confession both humiliating and vulnerable because you didn’t know how Caleb would react. Would he mercilessly tease you like he always did? Or comfort you in a strange turn of events? Or would he… touch you again?

The silence was deafening.

You peeked at Caleb. He looked startled, frozen in place with his magical, immoral mouth hanging open. The tension hung in the air, heavy and palpable, and you waited with bated breath for him to react, to say or do something… anything…

Caleb broke into laughter, wild tremors shaking his stupid, sexy body, and you scowled, the irritation only Caleb could wrench from you bubbling to the surface. You opened your mouth to scathingly retaliate when Caleb wiped the tears from his eyes and cooed, “Aww… is my poor Pipsqueak frustrated? Come here. I’ll make it all better for ya.”

You wanted to vehemently refuse, but your body had a mind of its own, and you melted into Caleb’s embrace when he wrapped you in his arms because… well, who were you kidding really.

“I’m warning ya, though, Pipsqueak. Like I said, I’m bigger than six inches,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling your earlobe.

You gulped, your heart beating madly in your chest, the anticipation of what was to come flooding you with a blistering heat…

And before you could even process what was happening, you were naked, bracing yourself against the wall, and he was bullying his fat cock into your dripping cunt – and you were dripping because his scent alone drove you insane – stretching you deliciously open, and you gasped because… because, fuck, his cock was just simply godlike.

He wasn’t joking when he said he was bigger than six inches. He was the biggest you’d ever had, and every time his tip kissed your cervix, you keened, your fingernails digging into the standard, white paint of the dorms.

He rutted into you brutally, his broad palm shoving your head into the wall, and your hips bucked back to slam into his because you needed him deeper… harder… 

“Shit, Pipsqueak, taking me so… well,” Caleb grunted, speaking erratically from the exertion. “Ya really…  really aren’t a virgin… are ya?”

“That’s what I’ve… fuck… been saying… you… hah… you asshole!”

Tears stung your eyes because this… this was what you had been searching for… what you craved… what you had been missing in your life.

You were on fire, searing flames blazing into an uncontrollable inferno, ravaging your poor body until there was nothing left and you were shuddering… spasming… pathetically mewling Caleb’s name in strangled sobs.

“Ah, fuck, I can’t— I–” Caleb sputtered, and for the first time, you saw him lose control, and he shouted, “Fuck!” before spilling ribbon after ribbon of his cum into your drooling, convulsing cunt.

It was the first time you’d let someone finish inside of you, and you felt his essence filling you to the brim, creeping out from around his dick and down your quavering inner thighs. Fucking Caleb had been like having a taste of the forbidden fruit, and you smoldered with desire for more… more of the succulent rapture he’d shown you.

Caleb planted his lips on your shoulder, grazing the skin lightly with his teeth, electric sparks radiating from every part of you he touched, and in the depths of your hazy, post-bliss muddled mind, you heard him tauntingly say…

“Geez, Pipsqueak, if ya think that felt good, wait till ya see what I do next.”

[onlytruepain]

I'm not familiar with using tumblr other than posting (boomer) and this is the nicest most unhinged thing I've gotten so far it really made my day LMAO thank you tumblr user apopcornkernel i hope you have a great rest of the year too!!

[nguyenfinity]

Every time I draw Mamagi it does AoE damage (I am also in the area of effect)

Lighthearted bonus:

[awearywritersworld]

men are so quick to blame the gods

ryomen sukuna x reader summary: your boyfriend is a heavy sleeper, leaving you to form an unlikely relationship with the curse occupying his body during the late hours of the night. w/c: 2.6k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. angst/fluff. aged up!yuuji. sa is mentioned but it's pretty much just sukuna saying he doesn't condone it. heavy kissing. obvi features yuuji x reader but it's not at all the focus. cursing. sukuna calls you kitten. i'd like to think he's not too ooc in this but im probably delusional. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: am i rehabbing our handsome vicious psychopath? yes<3 loosely inspired by this post (features manga spoilers) of him being v beautiful and poetic series masterlist // masterlist

humans have always irritated the king of curses— pathetic little vermin scurrying around, utterly oblivious to their own weakness.

so it came as quite a shock to him when he awoke after over a millenia, only to find himself trapped inside the body of some teenaged brat.

nearly 7 years later and he's positive there isn't a person he despises more in the universe. not even the cocky six eyes wielder can elicit sukuna's fury the way itadori yuuji so easily does.

that's why he resolved early on to kill his vessel's pretty little girlfriend, an act he hopes might satiate his spite. he's positive nothing would devastate yuuji more.

luckily for you, life has a funny way of working.

you and yuuji are standing at an intersection in the city, the pink-haired man staring at his phone as he tries to piece together the directions to a new sushi restaurant you've been wanting to try.

when the pedestrian sign on the other side of the street blinks, you step out onto the pavement without checking for oncoming traffic.

"what the-" yuuji's confused voice fills your ears just as a rough hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you backward violently.

a car barrels through the spot you'd just been standing, the driver clearly not paying attention to the traffic signal. you look back just in time to see harsh black marks fading from your boyfriend's arm, though the rest of his body has seemingly remained unblemished.

it's an odd sensation for yuuji because he's never lost control to sukuna in such a manner. he doesn't dwell on it long though, as anger blossoms in his chest.

"do not touch her," he scolds the curse occupying his body.

a mouth appears on his cheek and scoffs. "sure. i'll just let her die next time."

"it's okay, yu," you interject before he can retaliate. "thanks, sukuna. i, uh, appreciate it."

he grumbles something incomprehensible, his mouth quickly disappearing. your boyfriend looks at you bemused, but you only shrug. the fact that yuuji had lost control to sukuna doesn't make you feel nervous or threatened. you're grateful that he kept you from being run over, albeit a bit surprised.

as you continue your walk to the the sushi restaurant, you find yourself not quite able to meet yuuji's eye because... well... you haven't exactly been forthright regarding your relationship with the king of curses.

the first night it happens, you're laying in bed eagerly finishing the final volume of a manga you've been reading. yuuji is fast asleep and has been for hours, though you're used to being the night owl in the relationship.

you keep wiping at your eyes, the cheerful ending tugging at your heartstrings and tying the story together in a beautiful way.

"can you stop with your incessant sniveling? this idiot's brain is so rarely quiet and you're ruining it."

you look over to see the eye beneath your boyfriend's is open, staring at you scornfully.

"can you fuck off?" your tone is obviously meant to mock him. "i'm finishing one of my favorite mangas and you're ruining it."

"need i remind you of your place, brat?" he sneers. "it's dreadfully wretched, crying because you don't like the ending to some stupid story."

"since you're so clearly invested, i'll have you know i'm crying because i do like it."

"..and here i thought you couldn't get any more pathetic."

your eye twitches in annoyance. "just because you're mad about being stuck in 'some idiot human's body' doesn't mean you have to go around projecting your feelings of inadequacy onto other people."

you move your hand to cover the mouth on your boyfriend's cheek before sukuna can respond, hissing out in pain just a moment later.

"oh my god, you actually bit me." you inspect the teethmarks on your palm in disbelief.

"just wait until i win control of this body— the punishment you deserve for such insolence. you'd better hope you're miles away, but even then—"

"holy shit, enough already. i'll go to sleep. enjoy your peace and quiet," you growl angrily, flipping off the lamp and turning away from him. for some reason, you still find yourself mumbling, "good night."

sukuna's eye widens before promptly closing, the silence hanging in the air heavily. it's the longest conversation he's had in years and the first casual pleasantry he's heard in a millenia. he tries to feel satisfied that he got what he wanted in the end, before returning to his quiet solitude.

over the next few months, your late nights are graced somewhat frequently by the king of curses. he mainly complains— the friends you hung out with earlier were annoying, the tv's too loud, it took yuuji twenty minutes to exorcise a curse that sukuna could have dealt with in seconds.

it doesn't bother you nearly as much anymore and he's no longer able to get under your skin like he did that first night. it seems as if he's losing his touch, or perhaps he just isn't trying as hard.

it's around one in the morning, a book resting in your lap while your boyfriend snores softly beside you. sukuna's eye pops open, peering over at the text. "you're reading homer?"

your body jerks, startled by his sudden question, but you recover soon thereafter. "yeah, were you two friends or something?"

"no, you fool," he derides. "he lived far before my time."

though you don't comment on it, you find it amusing that your sarcasm had gone over his head. "oh, you're right. how silly of me to think you had friends."

"such profound witticism. i can hardly contain myself."

you sneak a glance over to find he's narrowed his eye at you and you actually giggle. "sorry."

it doesn't dawn on you how bizarre the interaction is, but sukuna abruptly realizes that something feels different. not once before tonight had he made you laugh.

he pushes the thought from his mind. "i did, however, indulge in his works during the heian period."

"really?" you perk up. it's not often you give him your full attention. "what'd you think?"

"i suppose i liked him well enough. one of my favorite lines comes from the poem you're reading."

you motion your hand for him to continue. "well don't be shy. i'm sitting here with bated breath."

he rolls his eye, but speaks nonetheless.

"men are so quick to blame the gods— they say that we devise their misery..." you realize for the first time how gruff his voice is, the deep reverberations sending a shudder down your spine. "but they themselves, in their depravity, design grief greater than the griefs that fate assigns."

his eye flickers between each of yours before you look back to your book, fiddling with the corner of the page. you're suddenly feeling rather shy. "does that mean you think humans are even crueler than you?"

he muses over your question briefly.

"if i recounted how men would flee the villages i burned, leaving their families behind in a selfish attempt to save themselves.. who would you find more revolting?

you swallow nervously. "i.. i don't know."

"what if i told you of the men who would eagerly offer their wives and daughters to me, hoping i'd spare them.. who would you deem more wicked?"

you're so busy avoiding his gaze that you don't see the way he carefully regards you. a question you're unsure you want the answer to tumbles from your lips before you can stop it. "did you accept? the.. the husbands' offers—"

"no," he responds. "i have little interest in unwilling partners."

"oh. well that's, um, good."

he hums in response, leaving you to process everything he's told you.

"you should stop," you blurt out eventually.

"stop what?"

"being nice to me." you wouldn't normally consider discussing literature then reminiscing about the egregious stories of his past life particularly kind, but then again, it is sukuna you're speaking with. "it's weird."

he rolls his eye again. "you're hardly in any position to be giving me orders, you insufferable brat."

"see? that's much better."

"why are you crying?" his tone is even, conveying neither annoyance or concern. truthfully, he has no idea what compelled him to ask in the first place.

you don't answer, hoping he'll leave you alone. you really don't have it in you tonight, even if sukuna's been much more tolerable recently. it's been weeks since you finished reading homer's epic poem.

the moon is already setting and it's just a few days before your date at the sushi restaurant.

when you sniffle again, he calls your name. you don't register that he doesn't say brat or idiot. it's the first time he's used your actual name.

"w-what do you want?"

"i seem to recall asking you a question."

you're laying on your side, facing away from yuuji and by extension, sukuna.

"i'm not crying," you declare.

sukuna briefly wonders why he's stuck dealing with you while yuuji sleeps, but his inward 'annoyance' is half hearted. "you're an awful liar."

you exhale and turn to look at him. the only light in the room is coming from the tv, but it's enough that he can see you clearly. "sometimes.. i can't help but worry about the execution."

yuuji has told you countless times that gojo has a plan, that he won't let anything happen, but you know what the higher ups are capable of.

and while it's down right shameful, you know that much, it's not only your boyfriend you worry about these days. sukuna's become so commonplace in your life, you almost look forward to talking with him at night.

"the thought of losing yuuji... of losing.. you.. it scares me," you murmur.

your words stir up feelings he's never once experienced and it's confusing to him. "i'd have figured you'd at least be pleased to be rid of me."

"well, i-i kind of thought we were friends now," you share without thinking.

"don't flatter yourself."

he regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth and the guilt he feels as he watches your face fall is unbecoming of a being so powerful. you apologize meekly, shifting (too late) to hide your hurt.

he can't remember a moment in which he's hated being trapped in his vessel's god forsaken body more. he wants to reach out to you, even if the idea feels entirely foreign to him.

but he can't, so he just sighs. "if you think i'm going to let a few feebleminded sorcerers execute me and the brat, you're even more foolish than i thought."

you peer at him, the smallest smile gracing your lips when you realize that's probably as close to an apology as sukuna would ever get.

"promise?"

for fuck's sake. he feels utterly pathetic. completely deplorable. laughable, even—

"yes," he states impassively. "now go to sleep."

"okay." your smile is just a little wider as your fingertips brush the spot below his eye and above his mouth. you wonder if he can even feel it. "good night, sukuna."

"...night, brat."

less than a week after sukuna saves your life at the intersection, yuuji kisses you goodbye as he heads out to a mission. he assures you he'll be early tonight, as he only has to exorcise a semi-grade one cursed spirit in roppongi.

though things don't go quite as planned because in addition to the semi-grade, he finds himself standing before two special grades. he manages to defeat one of the special grades, but the other two leave him badly hurt, his breathing labored.

he has to beg sukuna to switch out with him. the king of curses hasn't forgotten his promise to you and he's no fool— it's clear this is an ambush by the higher ups— but he'll be damned if he wasn't going to have a little fun with the brat first.

he makes quick work of the curses, each of them going rigid with fear as soon as he appears, and it soon becomes apparent that yuuji is too weakened to take back control of his body just yet.

at last, sukuna has his long yearned for freedom and a new world at his fingertips, but there's just one problem... all he wants to do is find you.

when the lock to your apartment clicks, your eyes shift to the door, an excited grin on your face. you can't hide your shock when it isn't your boyfriend that steps inside.

you don't say anything at first, simply following his frame across the room as he approaches you. he leans against the wall a few feet away from where you're sitting on the couch, folding his arms across his chest.

"seems your concerns about the execution weren't unwarranted."

"w-what?!" you exclaim, rising to your feet and taking a step toward him. "what happened?"

he relays the story to you, emphasizing how 'unimpressive' yuuji's power was and how 'terribly simple' it was for him to finish the job his vessel couldn't.

you narrow your eyes at him, only half joking when you ask, "what are you doing here, then? shouldn't you be off pillaging tokyo or something?"

he chuckles. "such a dark mind you have. it wounds me to hear you assume the worst of me."

you bite your lip to hide your smile. "just figured it'd save time."

he closes the space between you and though you can feel the heat radiating from his body, you don't shy away from him. instead, your eyes trail over the dark lines adorning his face and chest.

he reaches up and your breath catches in your throat when the back of his fingers ghost over your neck. his nails graze your skin and a sly smirk forms on his face. "aren't you frightened? it'd be all too easy to kill a little thing like you."

"but you won't."

he can't tell if your assuredness pisses him off, but it certainly makes his heart rate pick up. his hand now occupies the space where your neck meets your shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle. "what has you so convinced?"

"well you saved me, didn't you? and.. and you kept your promise."

he hums in response and your hand seems to act of its own accord when it reaches up to rest atop his. any lingering sense of amusement is gone in an instant, the air now fraught with tension.

"so why are you here, sukuna?" you murmur.

the king of curses has never known goodness. he's wrought untold destruction and misery, his name inspiring fear even after millenia. he's a legend— a god, even— yet here you are staring up at him and he swears the look in your eyes is almost tender.

"i don't know."

"and you had the nerve to call me an awful liar."

you know you're taking a risk when you lean up and press your lips to his. he freezes for a moment before his mouth begins to move against yours tentatively. his arm stays at his side, so you grab his hand, moving it to your waist.

it's as if that flips a switch in sukuna. he backs you up against the wall somewhat roughly and you can feel him smile against your lips when you let out a squeak of surprise.

he uses the opportunity to take your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging at it before moving to your neck with the intention of leaving a trail of marks across your delicate flesh.

you know you should care, but you just can't bring yourself to tell him to stop. you're too preoccupied with the feeling. he revels in the little gasps he's pulling from your throat, in the way you grab weakly at his biceps.

"you are divine, kitten," he growls. "been waiting so long to touch you."

just as he finishes speaking, he pulls back a few inches and his body stiffens.

"damn it. not now, you stupid brat—"

the words die in his throat as the black lines begin to fade and you're met with the perplexed face of your boyfriend. he breaths out your name, clearly worried. "what.. what happened?"

[melancholyhigh]

tags. 1.2k words. college au, male masturbation, unsolicited nudes, sex tape (?).

note. posted this on ao3 as well but i don’t wanna leak my acc so if u saw it on there it was me.

The sudden vibrations of your phone pull you out of your thoughts. With furrowed brows, you put down the papers you had been blankly staring at and grab the device. It was quite late—  early morning, so you’re unsure who would reach you at this hour. You swipe up on your lock screen, revealing the notification panel, and quickly notice the familiar contact.

2:03 AM

leon <3

Attachment: 1 Video

You stare at the notification for a while, even more confused. Why would Leon message you at this hour? Sure, you thought he was cute (and maybe you had a thing for him), but he only texts you when he needs the answers for calc homework. He never sends a video, though. Curious, you click on the notification, expecting an unfunny TikTok or Instagram reel.

However, when the message opens, you’re greeted with a much more suggestive sight. The thumbnail of the video depicts Leon as he leans back on a wall, his sweats unable to contain the strain of his erection. You can make out the blush on his cheeks that extends to his bare chest, and his messy hair. Some of his blonde locks stick to his sweaty forehead. You feel embarrassed getting worked up over a still of the video.

Why the fuck would he send you a video of himself in his most vulnerable state? You’re unsure of what his next move might be. That’s a lie. You know he’s going to pull his pants down and stroke his dick, but who knows, maybe he has integrals in his sweats. You had to make sure.

Maybe he’s in trouble. You try to reason with yourself as you tap on the screen. The video begins with heavy breathing and a shaky camera as Leon attempts to position his phone without the device falling over. He mutters a quiet ‘fuck’ when it tips over again, and you briefly wonder if he even skimmed through the video before sending it to you. 

Finally, he’s satisfied with the angle and leans back on the wall. Leon’s eyes are focused on his phone, watching himself through the tiny screen. Leon’s large palms glide along his body as he feels himself. One of his hands squeezes at his defined pec — they’re softer than appear, and his other hand moves to his pants, grasping at his erection through the grey fabric. He fucking whines when the side of his hand grazes his sensitive nipples, and he thumbs the head of the cock at the same time.

His head tips back to the wall. His Adam’s apple is more pronounced and bobs when he swallows as he slips his dick out of its confines. He looks down once more to where the shaft rests on his abdomen. You think he forgot he was filming, parting his lips and letting a glob of saliva fall onto the red tip of his cock, smearing the makeshift lube along his gorgeous cock when he strokes himself slowly, his spit mixing with his pearlescent precum.

Leon picks up the pace, moaning loudly. His back arches and his body is divine. He’s a bit pudgy, but you can tell he works out, his abs clenching as he tries to delay his orgasm. There’s a trail of dark curls leading to his dick, and oh fuck his dick. The thing is fucking beautiful. Why was all of him so photogenic? The head of his cock was red, oozing precum down the shaft. It wasn’t too lengthy, but his cock was thick and curved slightly to the left. You audibly moan at the thought of him being stuffed deep inside you.

Leon glances at the phone for a second and looks almost shy as if he can’t believe he’s putting on a personal show just for you. He bites his plush bottom lip as he perseveres, continuing to jerk himself off, his blonde hair falling in front of his eyes. You wish you could’ve seen his blue crystalline eyes as he’s lost in his debauchery.

He seemingly grants your wish, running his free hand through his hair and gazing at the camera with desperation. Leon’s eyes attempt to stay open as he eagerly ruts his cock into his palms, his hips lifting to meet the pace of his relentless stroking. The erotic blend of his needy whimpers and the obscene squelching of his slippery cock moving against his palm was a blasphemous hymn you were willing to worship.

His palm drops, grazing against his neck as he applies gentle pressure on his throat. Letting out a low groan, his hand is quick to clamp his mouth shut. He’s terrified people in the neighbouring dorms might hear him, but you find it humorous that he’s now beginning to care after the pornographic sounds he previously let out.

Leon moves his palm from his mouth, revealing his pouty lips, swollen from biting. His free hand rests on the bed he sits on, propping himself up as he moves his other one up and down his throbbing shaft. 

“Uhhhhn… fuck… fuck…” He rasps, rocking himself up to his palm. Leon’s hips stutter as he nears his orgasm. He grips the sheet beneath him, veins protruding as his pace never falters around his cock.

“Mhm… I’m gonna cum. Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum for you,” Leon moans, whimpering your name beneath his breath. Sticky release spills from his swollen tip, and he continues to stroke himself, coating his softening cock with his translucent cum. His chest heaves as he breathes heavily.

Leaning forward, Leon grabs his phone with a shaky hand. He shows you close-ups of his spent dick, and you faintly make out his quivering thighs. Thumbing the head of his overstimulated cock, he lets out a crisp desperate moan due to him being closer to the mic of the phone. The video should’ve been filmed at this angle, where you heard the intake of breath and pitch of his whiny moans.

The video abruptly ends, and you’re left alone in your drenched panties to ponder what you just experienced. You place your phone down on the pile of worksheets and shift uncomfortably. The disgusting feeling of your underwear clinging to your sopping cunt doesn’t answer whether you had conjured up the video in your depraved mind or if Leon indeed sent it to you.

You pick up the device once more and rewatch the video again. Holy fuck, Leon had sent that video to you. Your fingers press at your cunt through your sleep shorts. You were drenched and moaning at the subtle friction at your clit.

2 minutes 47 seconds. It took 2 minutes and 47 seconds of Leon playing with himself to get you so aroused. You were seeping through your shorts, and any slight pressure you applied sent jolts of pleasure throughout your body. You could almost come in your fucking pants.

Another notification pops up from Leon, and you eagerly tap on the banner.

leon <3

Wrong person sorry

You scoffed, almost hurt by the message. Almost. However, the whiny gasp of your name was etched permanently into your brain, and you were keen on hearing him moan it out beneath you rather than at 720p on your cellular device. You’re also positive you’re the only person with your name that Leon knows.

You

why were you crying for me then?

masterlist. i’m kinda proud of this one if you couldn’t tell

[shinjisdone]

When You Have An Secret Admirer - And Everybody Thinks It's Them (2; Savanaclaw)

A love letter was left at your door and now you are searching for that 'secret admirer' - everyone wants to help you out...but have their own reason for it.Yet now, it seems like there are quite a few misunderstandings on campus...and everyone thinks they have finally found that secret admirer.

Spin-off of the first 'secert admirer' series + form of headcanons

note: reader is gender-neutral but mostly mentioned in 2. pov; a series of everyone being mistaken for the secret admirer. headcanon will follow each char. own thoughts on the situation.]

"Hey...you think he could be the famous admirer of the Ramshakle prefect?"

Tag list: @justm3di0cr3 , @a-small-tyrant , @twistedcece , @savanaclaw1996

1;Heartslabyul

3; Octavinelle

Leona Kingscholar

Ugh...this can't be real.

Savanaclaw students are usually not the type to gossip among each other...but they are cocky, believing their lazy dormleader won't ever hear a word of their rumors.

Well...they were wrong.

The first time Leona had heard of such...stupidity - of him being the secret admirer - he literally pulled a face.

They can't be serious, are they? He doesn't hold a lot of expectations on anyone but he had hoped his dorm wasn't that dumb.

He is surrounded by idiots.

It isn't flattering, it isn't clever to even wonder if the Leona Kingscholar could be the secret admirer. Not the lazy, pessimistic, easily bored Leona Kingscholar.

He is actually someone to approach the topic when he passes by a gossiping group. Telling them with a snarl to use their brain and if they really believe - key word; Believe - that he would do such a thing.

Does Leona show any ounce of passion and motivation to do the things the admirer did? Is he such a lovesick kitty that he'd be cowardly enough to keep his affections secret? Does Leona hold any kind of high regard for the herbivore?

His dormmates fiddle with their words, finding themselves nervous and speechless...

Yet at the last question...

One is brave enough to point out that, yes, dormleader Leona is fond of the prefect! You'd maybe have to really pay attention but once you do, his affections and reliance are as clear as day! ...For Leona's standards at least.

That would actually annoy him.

Pissed off he seems and the students turn tail. It is frightening to see the usual nonchalant Leona being angry and any mention of him and you, especially of his feelings for you (which don't exist!) leave him pissed off.

Usually he wouldn't care...but he can't deny the vexation he feels whenever he just senses people's eyes on him, knowing exactly why they are staring at him.

Idiots.

The dormhead will order Ruggie to put an stop to these rumors, he doesn't care how. The latter feels kind of lost on how to do such a thing, so Leona orders him to send any nosy Nancy to him. He'll have a private talk with them.

Speaking of talks....ugh, it seems like he'll have to talk to you too, to clear his name.

Though you aren't that idiotic to believe that he is the secret admirer, right?

"Listen, herbivore...you know me. You know how I am. I'm not your secret admirer."

He is brief. However...depending on your reaction, Leona might leave with his mood more sour than usual.

Either you wanted him to the admirer...and he isn't. Or you were relieved he was not...meaning you never wanted him.

No matter how it might turn out, Leona will make a face and leave without a word.

Ruggie Bucchi

Eh, heheh...what?

That isn't funny...

Really, really confused. Are people really suspecting him to be the - the secret admirer? Ha! Shishishi! Th-that's ri-ridicilous...!

Sheepishly laughs any questions off. It can't be...are his feelings really that obvious?!

Ruggie tries to shrug them off and get on with his daily life but the more this holds on, the more curious his dormmates become and the more embarrassed and annoyed he gets.

Like, seriously! What's this supposed to be, huh?! You tryin't to ruin his already ruined reputation?!

He can't have that! Just imagining what Leona would do...

Despite the embarrassment, Ruggie is more annoyed than anything. He always saw himself as a sneaky fella, so to hear how clear and obvious his favouring is to you, is...inconvinient.

He first tries to lighten the mood, joking at his own expense that he could no way be the secret admirer. C'mon, look at him!

Cannot really give any reasons to his defense though. It would make it seem like...he likes you less and his hard work that he did for you was for nothing.

The only time he is honest with everything is when he goes to you to explain himself.

"Hey...I know what you've heard and what yer thinkin' maybe, shihishi...but, uh, it ain't me. I mean, c'mon! Look at me! I'm already working myself to the bone, that extra work would leave me bedridden, haha..."

Ruggie clears his throat, sheepishly avoiding your gaze.

Jack Howl

Now this could be interesting.

Suspecting Leona and Ruggie to be the secret admirer is a bit of an far-fetched idea...but most students agree that it makes the most sense if Jack was the admirer actually.

"Think about it!", One students says, "The rough and tough Jakc...he's always taking care of the prefect so sweetly...he must have a secret romantic side that he can only show as the secret admirer!"

Jack is....flabbergasted to say the least.

Him??? The secret admirer - and WHAT ARE THEY SAYING??? SECRETLY A ROMANTIC???

UHM- No! No, that's not true at all!

>:(

He tries to act all offended and angry...but that is a shield to hide his embarrassment.

Jack wouldn't consider himself that harsh...and that reversed either but...him being a romantic at heart secretly and...l-longing for you?! C'mon, that's a made up story! Anyone can see that!

Honestly though! Do people seriously think he'd go out of the way to become some secret admirer to show his aff-affections and l-love to you...?! Th-that's...! Ugh!

Genuinely upset and lost. He doesn't want to hear any of this! Especially since it is true but noone would believe him obviously!

He growls and snarls and while that does scare many away, others believe that only amplifies his true feelings and how he uses an nonchalant, rude attitude to hide them!

Shut up! not like it is kinda true thou

Jack is just...stumped. Completely stuck. He asks for Ruggie's, Ace's and Deuce's help to just somehow...get all of this to stop!

(Ace may suspect him to be the secret admirer since how incredibly and sincerely kind he is to you...and he may be jealous, while Deuce, red in the face, straight up and loudly asks with a stutter if he really is the admirer! - Which Jack immediately denies.)

Ruggie knows Jack to not be careless and as an honest soul, so he suggests to have him clear his name to you. It might help.

So he does. With narrowed eyes that avoid your own, a hand scratching his neck and a deep, scarlet blush dusting his face.

"Uhm...everyone's...I mean, everybody's been so...obnoxiously loud and confident in their claims but...you know it isn't me, right? Because it isn't. I would never lie to you."

[morguecuts]

Running From Vain

five hargreeves x fem!reader synopsis: you confuse anger for love. word count: 1.8k tags: angst, heavy fluff, kissing, touching, etc. technically adopted siblings? lots of character lore lol note: story was written with s4 visuals in mind. this is my first time writing tua fanfic so i hope u enjoy. i apologize in advance for being an extremely detailed writer :)

♱⛧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⛧♱

the 8th hargreeves child was the one that reginald kept hidden and locked away for decades. her blood regeneration was able to flow through not only herself but others as well, being able to save them from death and retrieve their leaking souls when needed. she lacked the ability to control them from a young age, and her powers were deemed too impactful to society fairly quickly. when a mission goes rather poorly, she is revealed to the world by mistake. since then she’s been known as the outcast to everyone, including her own siblings. the world is coming to an end once again, issues are constantly arising with all connections pointing to the umbrella academy. the family already lost beloved parts of itself in the past, and they bare to lose any more. tension has been brewing for years and one wrong comment leads to a certain couple releasing deep emotions, both good and bad.

♱⛧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⛧♱

his hands travel from the sides of his face upwards towards the messy black hair that lays upon his head. their strands are falling to perfectly frame the chiseled boy below them. an unpleasant expression is sprawled across five’s face, his tired eyes clenched closed as his eyebrows pinch together. 

“no, you don't understand! we can’t keep wasting time, everything will be gone tomorrow.” he opens his mouth for the time in what feels like hours. his chest begins to rise and fall quickly. his feet start to carry him back and forth, passing you every few moments while his eyes are locked onto you. the hallway where you both reside is tense, heavy, and secluded from the rest of the house. for being in such a mammoth size mansion, with 7 other siblings, a robot mother, and an intelligent monkey, the world seems to be silent. the only noise that can be heard is the faint sound of five breathing, releasing a few deep sighs as he does. 

“i understand perfectly well, but your plan is useless. you are so insufferable to work with, i mean come on five, be realistic for once! if we listen to viktor then we might actually be able to stop the apocalypse.” you make an attempt at replying, but it seems like he’s starting to ignore you. 

the air is intoxicating, you hate him, you hate what he did to the umbrella name, and especially to you. it’s time for someone to stand up and confront his decision making. everything he does is egotistical and arrogant. his words are sharp and impactful in the most negative ways imaginable. the sound of his shuffling feet stop, his dark beaded eyes trace every aspect of your face before opening his mouth in response to you. 

“you know you’re a real piece of work right? calling me insufferable is completely distasteful when all you do is follow diego around like a lost puppy. it’s fucking embarrassing for everyone in this family, and you know it.” he stops to let out a small chuckle before pointing his finger towards your chest. “don't even make me mention the grave mistake you made on our last mission either” his expression is ridden in evil, a small upturned smile resting on his face and he stares into you.

“that was not my fault,” you spit back, angrily stepping towards him. “i am the ONLY person who TRIED to help ben and everyone who was in that chamber could tell you that themselves.” red flashes of anger spread across your skin as you continue to step closer to five. “he died from something completely unrelated to my powers, but I FUCKING TRIED! I DID, NOT ALLISON, NOT DIEGO, ME.” by this time you are meters away from being chest to chest with the boy. 

“you’re a waste of space. you disappoint everyone in this house.” he glares down, his taller figure towers over you menacingly.

"that's really rich coming from you." you take a step back and laugh to yourself. "do you know that nobody in this family likes you anymore? hmm? after all the shit you've constantly put us through, five?”

"i dedicated my entire life to saving your asses, i spent 40 goddamn years in an apocalypse just to come back and save all of you countless times! what do i get in return? impertinence." his demeanor is getting worsened by each remark, hot red anger is spread across his face as he snaps back at you. 

"none of us asked you to! you are always taking charge and forcing us to follow your plans, what if we didn't want to do this anymore? you're such a narcissist everything is always about you!" a near table rattled slightly from the yelling, the flowerpot on top shook before calming back down after a moment. 

"fuck you. fuck all of you. i'm TIRED of trying to save this family. if you all want to die in another apocalypse, then be my guest." he scoffs looking at you one more time and turns to walk away. "god you're so pathetic, always teleporting away when things don't go your way. you’re so childish." you hiss

"what did you say to me?" five spins back around, his feet carrying him back towards you. "you heard me." you raise your head and straighten up, holding his tough gaze. by this time the two of you are practically chest to chest again, his eyes beaming down into you. if he wasn’t human, you'd imagine smoke being blown from his ears and nostrils out of anger.

"say it again." 

"you're. fucking. pathetic." 

in a heartbeat his lips are smashing into you hungrily. one of his hands is gripping your face while the other snakes around your waist. all of the pent up anger between the both of you comes crashing down, blending into lust. he feels warm, his soul is bleeding into yours as his tongue explores your mouth. his hands are running all over your body, stopping to hold onto your mid section, then your behind, and finally dragging their way up to your neck. five pulls back, panting slightly, his eyes searching yours worried and confused.

“do you want this?”  

“more than anything.” you drive your hands into his hair, yanking his lips back into yours. his small smile is felt pressing into your mouth, fingers lingering around the belt loops on the front of your jeans. he’s pulling your body into his as he deepens the kiss, groaning into you when you rub against him slightly. 

he pulls away and leaves trails of hot wet kisses on the front of your throat. you grumble and moan at this touch, causing five to laugh into your skin. he leaves small love bites all over your neck and collarbones while you run your hands through his hair. his eyes glance up at you, a different light beams through them now then moments before. his anger has faded into something similar to love. his little pecks come to a slow rhythm before he returns to your lips. dragging you into him, the two of you slowly begin backing up towards one of the hallway walls. 

he presses his long fingers into the sides of your waist, shoving you into the stone behind you. five’s grip is firm and tight, stopping you from being able to wiggle loose. the way his mouth moves is like a work of art. there’s no doubt that someone had taught him how to kiss like this, but my god, you are thankful for them. you touch him memorizing every piece of his body from his chest, his jawline, to the back of his neck, and up through his hair. the way he leans into your touches with such desperation is absolutely god like.

his slight groans and noises grow in volume when you reach your fingers towards his waist. a sly hand lifting the edge of his shirt and running along the front of his bare body. his small smile returns, pulling back from your lips. 

“your hands are cold.” he leans forward, placing a kiss on your forehead. the invisible bubble draped over the two of you seems to pop. he’s moving hands into the back pocket of your jeans, keeping you pressed into him. you smile at the small actions, glaring up to analyze his face.

“come with me” five reaches for your hand interlocking his fingers between yours. his feet are ready to speed away as he gently pulls you toward whenever he’s leading. 

“five we can’t…” you look at him guilty. 

“no, no… not that.” his head shakes in disbelief as he smiles at you. “please just trust me and come” his hand tugs at yours pleadingly. 

there’s another moment of hesitation before you give him a small nod and move your feet to follow his. the grip he has on your hand tightens as he pulls you forward, a blue smokey powder flashes in front of you before realizing what he was doing. 

there’s a millisecond of discomfort and stinging before you feel the ground beneath your feet again. it hadn’t crossed your mind before how it felt for five to use his powers, but my god it was strange. 

the room is similar to a greenhouse with its large glass windows and open ceiling. it’s covered in vines and greenery with a small white pitched tent in the center. there are boxes and a large wooden table to the side, scattered papers sprawled over its surface. there’s a couple whiteboards on the back wall with calculations and symbols scribbled all over. the messy handwriting looks like five’s, and a photo of his stupid mannequin ex-girlfriend, delores, is hung from one of them confirming this was his doing. 

“where are we?” you glance at him before returning to observe the room.

“the highest level of the house, it’s locked behind one of dads bookshelves but i found it a couple years ago. i used to sneak in here when i needed a quiet place. it’s hard to be bothered when nobody else can get inside except for me” he smiles down at you, tracing small circles with his thumb onto your hand, still intertwined.

you analyze the writings and questions scattered along the room, puzzled about the true purpose of being taken up here. he looks at you confidently while holding a small pale wooden box with the umbrella logo printed on top. 

“i didn't think you were ready before, but i think you are now. i know how we will all survive the apocalypse.” 

 ♱⛧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⛧♱

thank you so much for reading!

i hope you’ve enjoyed it, please feel free to make any comments or story requests down below. any support is always appreciated <3

[rustedhearts]

my funny valentine (steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: the hand-written evidence of an affair between high school sweethearts, displaced and reunited after war.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the library

♡ the record store

tags: “darling” used as reader insert name; infidelity; mention of war/violence; darling + steve are 35 at the time these letters are written. the time skip signifies lost letters (as they might, in actuality, get lost over the years)

"you make me smile with my heart...stay little valentine, please stay. each day is valentine's day."

— my funny valentine, ella fitzgerald

May 22nd, 1961

My Darling,

Please excuse this intrusion….I got your address from a neighbor. It was so lovely to see you today. I just couldn’t stand the thought of going one more moment without speaking more to you.

I couldn’t believe you thought me lost to you. Though, I cannot blame you for this train of thought. I was gone so long. It was silly to believe you would have waited all your life. Two years was long enough….I don’t blame you for moving on. But did you need to move to London? My Darling, it’s so far from home. I can excuse the new husband given my absence and its circumstance, but the distance will not do.

Nevertheless, I’m rambling. What I truly wanted to say, what I have longed to say since I boarded that train, and what I have wanted to say all day since seeing you on that wet little park bench in your fur coat….I still love you with all my heart. Is there any chance you still love me, too?

Yours,

Steve Harrington

May 24th, 1961

Sweet Steve,

Of course I still love you. You can imagine how confusing a feeling this is to me. Given the circumstance of a loving, successful husband found after such a long mourning period in which I now ponder the merit of….how could I still love you? It goes against all good graces which that of Almighty God intends for me.

But it doesn’t change the way my heart soars for you. The way it did when I saw you approach from across the pond in that tattered coat you’re still clinging to. Your hair is longer. I find it handsome.

I feel a sting of wrongdoing course through me as I etch these words down. Though I love you, Steve, we must not continue to write. Please tell me once what you endured, and then never more. I must have the answers I went so long without. I am allowing myself this selfishness.

However, when the tale is done, I cannot allow myself the selfishness of going on. My life has altered greatly since our time together, and my duties and responsibilities now lie elsewhere. I hope you can understand.

Sincerely,

Darling

May 30th, 1961

Darling girl,

I will begin first by disregarding the words that pierced me so. I will find it difficult to post this letter and think of it as the last of mine that you will ever read. Perhaps, by the end of it, you will have changed your mind.

When I left for Germany, it was as though we were thrown to the wolves. Peril and anguish and torment were all we knew. Myself, the men boys I fought with. We were all so young. Eighteen, twenty, the youngest seventeen. I cannot explain to you the horror of watching a young man’s arm blown off.

But you do not want to hear this. You want to hear of matters obtaining to you, of course. Answers you asked for and answers you shall retain. You’ve waited long enough.

When I returned to America two months after D-Day, I was bodily unscathed but no longer the man you knew. I found myself bound to fits of emotional and physical violence. Days of hysteria and madness that alarmed even my hostess. I was in no fit state to see you. I was, as well, thousands of miles away in California. So, when we were told to board for our way home, I did not go.

California was far enough that you could not find me and the man I had become.

My Darling, I wish I had sweeter excuses than these. I wish I could scrawl something of manly note, but…I owe you honesty. This, my sweet dear, is the honest truth. I was a hollow shell of the man you once knew. And I was afraid to return home to you.

Time in California fell like a whirlpool. A year had passed, and then two. By the time I had some handle on my fits, had worked through my madness and set home for you, you were gone. Your mother said ‘off to London,‘ and with a new beau to accompany you. A husband.

Something I was supposed to be.

Where I failed, I suppose he thrived. I hope you are happy, sweet girl.

Please, feel obliged to reply.

Yours still,

Steve

June 12th, 1961

Steve,

You always knew just how to sweeten the bitterness of goodbye. So much sweetness that I grow too sick to move through with it. Alas, that is why I’ve picked up my pen to write again. Curse you, Steve Harrington. You have such hold over me.

Now, I think it only right that I answer the questions you have not asked, but that I know you are curious of. Reggie is my husband, and we met two summers after the end of the war. I went so long pale and sick with grief, thinking I lost you to Heaven. I had come to terms with this, buried any idea that you might come home.

Reggie was a businessman, in town for dealings. He hails from London, which is the swift explanation for my immigration here. Our love was quick and easy, and when he asked me to marry him on our fifth date, I had no reason not to say yes. You were, in the mind of a young girl engaged to a soldier that did not come home, gone. There was no vow or promise being broken.

I would, however, be breaking all promises of honesty under God if I were to say I have not thought of you in these past years.

I feel an indescribable ache for your suffering, and all the suffering of young men in a similar state to yours. I take your words as oath, as I promised to do so many years ago...which is why I can assure that my heart weeps for you so. Not just for your suffering, but for your company. I think it always might.

Might we allow ourselves one more act of selfishness? An act in the park, Sunday afternoon?

Please return soon.

Darling

June 14th, 1961 Darling,

I would be happy to oblige you in the park on Sunday. Will 2:00 do? Though, you were always an admirer of early morning strolls. Perhaps 10? You always did love a bird call.

Every post from you makes my heart soar, Darling. Did you know? The prospect of keeping your company for even a few hours has me yearning for a busy week, if only to keep the impatience at bay. I meant it truly when I wished your happiness. Fondly, Steve

June 15th, 1961

Steve,

Yes, 10:00 will do. I will be there, wearing my fur coat.

Eagerly awaiting,

Darling

June 20th, 1961 My Darling, Oh I cannot scrub my mind free of this torment. Our act of selfishness I knew to be tempting, but now I am delirious. If I thought my need for you was strong before, it is insufferably so now. You were so beautiful in your coat, in your plum dress. The color compliments your skin so well. I have not seen your eyes that closely in years. Only in photographs, that I horde and selfishly admire in the depths of dark nights, have I seen those eyes of late. And now here they were, staring up at me. With such blatant love as they did once before. Yes, my Darling, I saw all of it there. Are we to go on lying to ourselves, saying we're better off? Our time has passed, it has been so long, yes. Yes, I know it. But I know also that I cannot go another day without making up for the time lost between. Darling girl, please be selfish with me. Please live our days selfishly for as long as we might have. Yours, Steve

June 22nd, 1961

Steve,

I pride myself for honesty, so I will satisfy you with my brief agreement. My heart thumped so wildly in the park on Sunday that I thought it might break free from my body. Would you catch it in your hands if it had? Would you crush it? Oh, Steve, it has always belonged to your hands. The love you detected was not an illusion. It never died, not even across the sea.

Yet, what of Reggie? I love him dearly, as well, though maybe never quite like I did you. He is, nevertheless, my husband. We have grown to live such a wonderful life. And yes, we cannot have children, but we are finding ways to fill this void. The void will only grow, I fear, if I continue to be selfish with you. I will find new gaps and black holes in our life together, and I cannot be unhappy in a marriage that is sufficiently content.

Please do not ask this of me. My heart cannot bear to say no.

Yours,

Darling

June 24th, 1961 Darling, I know you are frightened, but might our love be stronger than this fear? Please do not deny me, I might break entirely apart. Do you not see the predicament we are in? To lose so many years, yet find each other in a completely different part of the world from where we were born. Is it not an act of God stringing us together again? One night, my sweet Darling. If not an eternity as we once intended, one night will suffice. Please do not say no. Yours waiting, Steve

June 27th, 1961

Sweet Steve,

I have been awake for days, ailing over your proposal. Know I do not intend to make any decision without a full realization of every consequence. To deny you would leave me with an ache like no other forever plagued on my heart. To accept, I would part ways with the very peace of mind that my marriage is pure of all faults as it is now, and was before you.

Attach the address of your hotel.

Yours,

Darling

June 29th, 1961 Oh my Darling, I believe I read over your words so frequently and at such a swift pace that my eyes are still sore. Attached is the address of my stay, and know I will be waiting no matter the hour. Come as you please, whenever you wish. I will be at the door. To hold you in my arms again is all I can live for in the hours between. Yours, Steve

July 3rd, 1961

Steve,

The loveliest of nights has passed between us, and yet I feel sick with the wrongness of our sheer audacity. Entangled in your arms, wrapped in those cotton sheets just feeling your breath and your flesh as it always was...I cannot think of a better mercy. For our suffering, for our loss. But will I obtain God's forgiveness when the day is to come? For what I have done to Reggie, I think this always a stain on my conscience.

Yet, some sort of delirium has come over me since that night. I seem incapable of clear thinking. If it is stained, let it be stained.

Please write to the attached P.O box from now on. I cannot risk interception, but I cannot risk a silence from you.

My darling Steve, will you stay?

Yours entirely,

Darling

July 5th, 1961 Darling, You cannot fathom how long I have waited to hear these words. Yes, I will stay. Yes, I will be yours, if you shall be mine. The hours allowed to us are the brightest of my days. I will find permanent residence somewhere in traveling distance so long as it allows me proximity to your love. Please come soon. I miss you terribly. Love, Steve

September 19th, 1961 Darling, You were upset last we parted, and my wish to quell your ailing grows stronger by the hour. I have grown to know your marriage and your Reggie as you have told, and I know now he cannot make you happy. I could make you happy, delightfully happy. The children you have always wanted are in our future, I know this is true. Please, change your mind and say yes, and we can have it. The future you crave, the future you deserve. Adventure, and intrigue, and passion that he cannot fathom. I have stared into the depths of your soul, and have bared all parts of my own. Can you say the same of him? Please, my Darling girl. I only think of you. Yours, Steve

September 22nd, 1961

Steve,

It is with aching eyes and a sore, sinking heart that I have prepared this for you. Know the walk to post it felt like a march to the death. In some way, this is death. Part of me, sealed away by your sweet kisses, and tender touches, and all those long hours whispering secrets in the dark. Part of me will always live in these moments, and that part of me has died.

I cannot leave Reggie, and your request of such leaves nowhere for our selfishness to go. We must not go on like this. Not if we are to live full and fulfilling lives without secret and pain. It is too much for one heart to bear. Were we to go on, it would kill me entirely. I must sacrifice a small part to save the whole. Oh, my love, I hope you understand. I hope you can forgive me.

Yours, now and always,

Darling

[jo-harrington]

Closing Time (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie watches the reader slay a dragon. (Reader works at Claire's in StarCourt and deals with a shitty customer before closing the store.)

Previous Part: Leave of Absence

Warnings/Themes: Semi-established relationship (friendship? Eddie isn’t sure what they are either), fluffy. Reader is not a Hawkins native, but it's kind of just implied. Eddie is a romantic boy and makes everything fantastical in that silly head of his. Also he makes a crude (ish?) joke. Typical teenage boy/young adult stuff. Nothing crazy,

Note: This is my first drabble I'm actually posting. (I haven't written actual fics in a hot minute, only headcanons). I hope it's good, but it really was an opportunity for me to get my frustrations out after work in a store for the first time in 2 years since I moved to corporate. And I kind of liked it so I might write more. (Therapy who?)

(Future Jo here...You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.)

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

___

"Ma'am, I'm sorry that this is confusing, but it's store policy."

"Then I'd like to speak to the store manager."

"I am the store manager," you explained, smile dropping right off your face only to be replaced by a cool mask of indifference.

Eddie stood just outside of the store, leaning against a railing that overlooked the Food Court, and watched you. It was a Sunday, which meant the mall was closed early, and all of the stores were dark except for yours. The gate was halfway down, but he could still see the tenacity--the ferocity--in your eyes as you dealt with an unruly customer and it took everything in him to ignore the little shiver that went up his spine.

When Eddie first gotten a job at Tape World, he had briefly wondered if it was a mistake. He had mostly been given closing shifts to offset gigs at the Hideout on Tuesdays and Hellfire on Fridays. Not to mention school once it was back in session. And seeing how closing shifts meant he was missing out at the opportunity to be dealing at local parties over the summer...well he didn't need to pass algebra to know it was costing him some potentially serious cash.

But the pay at Tape World wasn't awful and it was steady. Wayne seemed to be proud of him for finally having a steady job, despite the assurance that he would always be proud of Eddie. The discount was nice, and his manager let him promote Corroded Coffin shows at the counter.

And then there was you.

At first glance, it didn't make sense to anyone. You with your pastel purple name tag, mega-watt smile, trendy clothes, and stacks of scrunchies. And Eddie with his alleged devil-worshipping, superior taste in music, non-conformity, and hair wild either from too much head banging or the single window AC unit in his trailer. Shit, even he didn't understand it in the beginning; he thought you were everything he said he hated.

But you weren't.

Just like he wasn't everything the entire town said he was either.

Instead he found someone who was just like him, only sort of not at all, with your own flock of lost little bedazzled, pastel and neon sheep that you were protective of. You were a misunderstood soul, a compassionate leader, and one of the most patient people he ever met.

Except for right this minute.

The lights in the mall itself started to dim and the music went silent. Yet, there you still stood in front of one of the local PTA moms as she complained about a return.

She had already been in the store when Eddie arrived to meet you at the end of your shift. (Sunday nights were your...well, Eddie didn't know what to call them. Not date nights; not yet at least.) And you had given him one quick, apologetic glance over her shoulder before you geared up for battle.

But Eddie had been watching as your mood devolved ever since, and you went from understanding, to annoyed, to fuming. And here you were now, looking as though you could singlehandedly manifest a pit to open up beneath Loudmouth Linda to swallow her whole if she carried on with her rant.

And it was kind of hot.

Eddie wouldn't consider himself someone who thought anger was sexy. It was scary. He had seen the way his father would get angry over the most minor things and it stayed with him his entire life. He would freeze, even at the most minor indication that anger was being directed towards him. From his father, from a teacher, from Officer Callahan--although Hopper was usually there to rescue him from that one.

It was different when it came to bullies at school or the townies that spoke in hushed tones when he passed them by. He could stand up to the jocks and the popular kids that pushed him and his friends around. He could ignore the scathing looks from the busybodies at the grocery store. And as much as it hurt to be cast away by almost everyone he met for years, he knew that it wasn't anger--actually he wasn't sure what it was, really--that caused them to do those things.

Just like it wasn't really anger that fueled your fight for the past fifteen minutes. It was purely righteous indignation as you were attacked by this absolute dragon of a woman.

Deep down, he wished he could be your savior, having dealt with the spitting venom of these townies before on numerous occasions. But you were no damsel, and this wasn't your first battle either. You took every insult with grace, every octave of a raised voice was met with an equally raised voice before going back to calm. You verbally jousted, using every trick in your book, and when they didn't work...

"Once again it is against the policy of StarCourt Mall to have customers in the building this late past close and I will have to call Mall Security to come and escort you out regardless of your choice ma'am. So we can either proceed with your return and you get the money back that you paid and not a cent more or I tell my staff and security that you are no longer welcome in this place of business. And security will have to take your picture as they escort you out."

...You simply slayed the beast. With a smile. Although Eddie believed you were actually just baring your teeth in warning.

There was that shiver up his spine again, and were those goosebumps on his arms?

He sort of hoped to be on the receiving end of those teeth sometime soon.

Regardless, your customer was left speechless as you processed her return and called security to escort her to the exit. Eddie smiled smugly as they passed him by.

It didn't take long for the lights of your store to finally shut and for you to duck under the gate before locking it.

He didn't even get a chance to congratulate you on your victory and tell you how absolutely epic you were before you were walking face first into his chest and sighing as your arms went around his waist in a hug.

“Hey,” he chuckled and put his arms around you, one hand instantly rubbing up and down your back.

“Hi.” Your reply was muffled and you squeezed him a bit harder.

"Y'ok there?"

"Yeah," you responded quietly and rubbed your cheek against his t-shirt. “You wanna get DQ?” You looked up at him for a second.

“I could use a blizzard,” he agreed.

“Cool,” you sighed and settled back against him. “People suck.”

“They do.”

The two of you stayed like that in relative silence for a few minutes and as much as Eddie wanted to go on--to tell you that the lady was out of line, that she was entitled, and that he could never handle it as smoothly as you did--he knew that wasn't what you needed right now.

He momentarily wondered that it wasn't all bad, not being your knight, when he could instead be the home you returned to after battle.

And he would happily do it, even if you never asked him to.

"You know," he finally broke the silence. "I've heard people threaten to call security many times. Mostly on the receiving end, sometimes as an innocent bystander."

"Oh yeah?" You finally looked up at him, nose wrinkling with a smile.

"But I think that was the first time it almost gave me a boner," he admitted.

"Eddie!" you pushed away from him and slapped his arms as you laughed, eyes shining with joy. Your worries were not forgotten, he knew, merely smoothed over by, hopefully, your adoration for him. "You fucking perv!"

"I said almost," he defended.

He would be there. Happily.

Next Part: Team Building

[lixzey]

Letters

One day Timothée receives a package from someone unknown: a basket of eighteen letters. Letters from a girl named y/n. A mysterious fan who poured her heart out in her letters and is trying to fix herself. As Timothée begins to read, and the letters begin to run out, he finds himself falling for this girl. Until one day he stopped reading. 

Because she stopped writing.

Info: This is set in June 2024.

The First Letter.

Timothée sat in his hotel room reading his script when someone knocked on the door.

“Mr. Chalamet, this was dropped off at the lobby.” The hotel staff was holding a basket, a basket of letters tied neatly with a red ribbon.

“Thanks.” Timothée smiled, taking the basket in his hands. He went back inside his room and sat on the bed, scanning the basket for anything mysterious. It was only plain letters—eighteen letters—in the basket, with a tag addressed to him—his name neatly written on a tag attached to the basket.

He picked up a random envelope and started to read.

Dear Timothée, 

I know that you won't even read this; after all, you're busy with your career. And I know this won't be different from what any other girl has ever said to you before. But I guess it gives me a reason to have someone to talk to, even if you won't ever read this, let alone receive it.

I love you. I have loved you since the first time I saw you in Lady Bird. I love the way you smile; it makes me feel warm inside. I love the way you laugh; it gives me butterflies. I love the way you talk, whether in French or English. I can listen to your voice for hours. I love the way you see everything in a positive light.

I spend hours just lying in bed at night, wishing I could meet you. But I wouldn't know what to say. Knowing me, I'd probably stand there staring at you like an absolute idiot, or probably stand there shaking like a five-year-old who lost her mother in the supermarket.

A lot of girls have already met you; on social media, they say you're kind and loving—I wouldn't doubt that, of course. I even saw a video where you recognized a fan in the crowd. I wish I was that fan. It makes me wonder: Have you ever fallen in love with a fan? I mean, every girl that you met was absolutely gorgeous. You'd have a lovely conversation with a girl; she'd wink at you or toss her hair over her shoulders, and maybe you'd fall for her immediately.

Sometimes, when I'm feeling down, I watch your movies. I love seeing your face; it makes everything better. You know, it's funny how a movie can change someone's mood from sad to happy. That's what I love about your acting; it makes me happy and makes me feel alive. You're the only one who can make me feel alive.

I hope one day I can meet you.

I know it's impossible for me, but a girl can dream, right?

You know, I feel weird writing to you. But now that I've already written this, I might as well send it, right? Maybe you'd understand me.

Maybe I'll write again soon, or maybe not.

Who knows?

All my love,

Y/n 

Timothée put the letter down, confused and touched at the same time. There was a small date on the back of the envelope: June 15th, 2023. A year ago. Why was the letter dated a year ago? Why is it that he received the letters so late? How did it even get delivered to the hotel he was currently staying at?

He was used to fan letters, but not the kind that gets delivered to the hotel where he is currently staying. But something about the letter made him feel warm inside. Timothée looked at the letters, each one with the same handwriting, the same stamps, and tea-colored envelopes. All of them had dates on the back, and coincidentally, he had picked up the first one.

Suddenly, his phone rang, making him drop the letters in his hand. He answered the call, “Hey dickhead, you still up for the party tonight?” Zendaya's voice echoed in the room.

“Oh, yeah, I am. I'll be there.” Timothée chuckled. “See you later, the party starts at ten sharp.” Zendaya chuckled before ending the call.

Timothée looked down at the letters on the floor. He sighed before picking each letter up, sorting the letters by the date on each envelope. He placed the letters back in the basket. He glanced down at his watch; it was already seven in the evening.

“I'll continue later.” He muttered, shoving the basket under the bed. He got up and started to get ready for the party.

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober Day 1

Kink(s): Scratching

Pairing: Johnny Storm x f!Reader

summary: You’ve met Johnny Storm a handful of times but enough to know one thing: you hate him. His smugness, his attitude, his everything. Well… almost everything

warnings: SMUT, dom!reader (kinda?), sub!johnny, P in V (wrap it folks!), oral (f recieving), multiple orgasm, Creampie, scratching, lovebites

distant!reader, not much aftercare on reader's part (that’s a warning), I wasn’t kidding when I said you don’t like him haha

word count: 3.2k

AN: I was editing this the other day in app and accidentally lost 3 hours of work. Almost broke my phone. Learned my lesson. Never again.

I am usually a big ol’ sucker for a romance but, decided this Reader needed to keep Johnny at arms length. Who knows. Maybe I’ll revisit 👀

Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated - this is my first time writing something like this so feedback is appreciated. And obviously, I do not consent for my work to be reposted, copied or translated!

Next | Masterlist

Johnny was stood smiling and chatting to at least three women on rotation. You were convinced they were tagging out with other women at the party just to take turns to speak with him. Bask in his presence or whatever it was that made them want to stand next to such an asshole.

You grimace hearing his loud laugh booming dramatically at something one of the women said to him. You didn’t think it was possible for you to hate someone so much for merely existing, but Johnny was living proof of that. You sip at your champagne flute and scan the crowd, looking for literally anyone else to occupy your mind, when Johnny laughs again somehow louder this time.

You grumble and move away from the crowd of women around him and make a bee-line for the buffet, idly picking up canapés that did not taste as nice as they looked. The murmur of obnoxious laughter was still grating your nerves in the back of your mind as you chewed a piece of bruschetta angrily. Why was he like this? How did he manage to rile you up by just existing.

“Hey, beautiful.” A voice from behind you purred. An arm reached around you, picking up a bruschetta and when you followed the arm back around you, you were met with the charming smile of Johnny Storm. And you visibly recoiled.

It, somehow, made Johnny chuckle as he popped the bruschetta into his mouth. He pulled a face, clearly unimpressed by the taste but the expression was gone as quickly as it had appeared, charming smile back in place.

“Why didn’t you come say hi?” He asks, his blue eyes shamelessly roaming over your figure.

You couldn’t hide the disdain for him from your face. “You seemed busy.” You huff out.

“Oh that,” he looks over his shoulder at the women and waves before looking back at you. “I wouldn’t worry about them, sweetheart.”

You click your tongue and turn away from him. “I’m not.” As you move up the table, Johnny follows closely. Your temper flares when he moves in front of you, blocking your path, leaning against the table with an arrogant smirk. What you wouldn’t give to wipe that smirk of his face.

“What do you want?” You growl, scowling at him.

“You.” He says it so smoothly that, had it been anyone else, you might have felt a little weak in the knees. But it’s Johnny. It makes you cringe.

“Ugh. Please.” You hold up one hand to stop him from continuing. You look so disgusted, anyone would think you’re about to puke from gorging on one too many canapés. Johnny chuckles and with a shake of his head, inches a little closer.

“Come on , beautiful,” he bats his eyelashes at you, looking incredibly irresistible – which irritates you more. “One night’s all I’m askin’.”

“You ask me that every time you see me,” you grumble with a frown. Maybe you wouldn’t hate him do much if you didn’t have to be in the same room as him so often. “The answer is still no.”

“Why not?” He sounds and looks genuinely confused as to why someone, anyone, could refuse him.

“Because I cannot stand you,” you finally snap at him, looking around quickly to make sure you weren’t loud enough. You sigh softly when you see you’ve not drawn any extra attention to yourself but continue to glare at Johnny.

“Hmm.” Johnny says thoughtfully with a theatrical hand on his chin, unperturbed by you clear intense dislike of him. When he glances back to you his eyes glimmer with a mischief.

“Well, if you can’t stand me,” He begins, dropping his voice lower. “How about we go somewhere where you can sit on me instead?”

You blush and to your frustration, your pussy throbs at the thought. You can’t decide if you want to slap him or throw your drink in his face, or both. But then again, if he’s the one to frustrate you it’s only fair he relieves you. Besides; who speaks with their mouth full?

You take a deep breath, weighing your options before hissing, “Hotel Creche. Room 206 on the second floor. Leave fifteen minutes after I do. I don’t want anyone to see you leaving with me.”

Johnny looks utterly smug, watching you storm away with a lick of his lips. Tonight would be fun.

Johnny does exactly what you ask – which is surprising. After fifteen minutes, he attempts to follow suit but gets stopped multiple times by the various women he had been flirting with earlier in the evening when you were ignoring him. This adds another ten minutes to his journey – then another ten when he’s stuck in traffic. He’s tempted to flame on and just fly to the hotel but he’s wearing one of his best Armani suits. Plus, the anticipation was going to add to your excitement.

When he reaches room 206, he knocks hurriedly and loudly. You throw the door open, scowling at him. He tries to smile and say his sorry excuse but he’s cut off. You’re no longer in that lovely tight dress you were in at the party; you’re in lacy red lingerie that he is just drooling over.

“You’re late,” you snap, grabbing his tie and yanking him viciously into the room. You half drag him onto the bed and Johnny is too stunned and turned on to even muster words.

“Lie down,” you command releasing his tie.

Johnny wastes no time clambering onto the bed and loosening his tie excitedly, eyes hungrily watching your every move as you stalk around the bed impatiently. The ire in your eyes makes him feel out of his depth for once. You’re looking at him like how a lioness looks at a gazelle before ripping it’s throat out and he is loving every second of it. Once he’s where you want him, you step out of your panties quickly, kicking them to the side.

As you kneel onto the bed, Johnny watches you with wide eyes and reaches out to touch you, only to be swatted away.

“’M sorry I’m late. I-“

“Do you ever shut up?” You growl, straddling his head between your knees. His hot breath on your cunt makes you shiver. You curse when you feel a wet, hot stripe along your folds as Johnny licks you teasingly in response.

“Only when I’m eating.” He mumbles into your cunt, licking again, slower and more precise this time. Johnny’s tongue takes it’s time tasting you, teasing you; and when you finally grind yourself along his face, he tilts his head ever so slightly to suck the sensitive flesh of your clit.

You gasp out at the sensation but you don’t give him the satisfaction of moaning his name. No, never that. You’d die before you do that. You still can’t stand him – even when he eats you out so good you see stars.

One of Johnny’s hands grips your hip, tugging you closer onto his mouth. The sounds he’s making beneath you make your breathing hitch; he’s good at what he does, there’s no doubting it. You can feel your thighs tighten, pressure building in your core already. You thought you’d last longer but Johnny’s expert tongue is hell-bent on making you cum over his face.

Johnny seems to take note of your quivering legs around his head and smirks into your folds as he takes another long, slow drag with his tongue.

“You’re such a fucking dick,” you breathe out, grinding your wet cunt over his face when he halts his movements. Johnny latches onto your clit again and hums, vibrations shivering all the way up your spine and you gasp, jerking forward splaying your palms across the wall in front of you.

“You were saying?” Johnny mumbles, using his free hand to sink two fingers easily into your soaked pussy, continuing to kiss, lick and suck at your hot flesh. You stifle a moan, gritting your teeth despite your glassy eyed expression. You were ready to cum but you wanted everything out of your system.

“Arrogant. Egotistical. Attention whore.” Each word is punctuated by a moan as you get closer and closer to your first orgasm of the night – but it’s those final two words that make Johnny moan around your clit, sending vibrations to all of the right places again. You curse loudly as you cum, taking a few moments for your breathing to steady before lifting off his face briefly to look down at him with a wicked smile. Johnny is panting and breathless, eyes blown to saucers as he stares back at you; licking his lips and covered in his own spit and your cum.

“You like that, huh?” you taunt. “Being a whore?”

“Fuck.” Johnny’s hands grip you tighter, trying to feebly pull you back down onto his face. You allow it, for a moment, the delicious heat of his tongue more feverish than before. You sit up again, making him groan out for you.

“Say it.” You say, voice dangerously low. Your body thrums with excitement – with power you have never felt. Johnny’s cock twitches desperately against his slacks and his chest heaves as he looks up at you. Fuck. That look you give him makes him want to cum in his pants right then and there.

“I do,” he breathes out, eyes never leaving you. “I like being a whore.”

His admission makes your cunt pulse with excitement. “Thought so. Only whores know how to eat pussy like that. Tongue out.”

Johnny sticks his tongue out immediately with a short moan, muffled by your pussy on his tongue again. He wastes no time continuing where he left off; swirling your clit with his tongue and two fingers working your pussy relentlessly. He lifts his head to envelop the silky flesh around your clit with his lips, sucking gently as he rolls his tongue over the sensitive bubble of nerves as he finds the spongy velvet of you g-spot. Your pussy convulses – second orgasm creeping up on you as you almost yell out. Your thighs shake around his head and the sound – the sound - you make; stuttering out a long, loud moan as Johnny continues to suck and lick everything you can give him. He thought he was close before but damn – he was wrong. He couldn’t remember the last time his dick was this hard.

You sit up, allowing him to breathe. For a few moments, you relish at the state he’s in; flushed, covered in your cum and rock hard. You’re tempted to leave him like that, however, you’ve got an itch you need him to scratch.

When you catch your breath, you inch down over his torso, settling your wet pussy against the hard on in his slacks. You pull at his tie and make quick work of the top few buttons of his dress shirt, revealing his sleek, unmarked neck.

“So pretty,” you purr, leaning down to pepper kisses along his neck. Johnny moves to kiss you but you duck away, splaying a clawed hand over his face and holding him in place. “Ah – ah – ah,” you chide. “You’re not allowed to kiss me.”

Johnny huffs, settling to kiss the finger closest to his mouth instead, wishing he could have your lips – either set – on his again. You dip your head again, nibbling at the soft flesh experimentally. You can smell your cunt on him and it makes you want to lick him clean. But you won't. Not tonight, anyway.

Taking a small portion of skin between your teeth you bite down slowly, feeling a bruise blossom. Johnny feels so utterly powerless as he mewls beneath you. His hips jerk upwards at your words and he was right before, lioness is the perfect word to describe you. You leave another love bite and Johnny moans louder than before and grinds your hips against his to feel the sweet friction he so craves.

“Want you.” He pants. “Fuck me, please. Jesus Christ.” The frustration is killing him. His cock his so hard it hurts.

“So fuckin’ needy,” you snarl, huffing angrily.

Johnny then does something he’s never done in bed before; he whines. God, you on him using him like this was driving him wild and he was starting to hate how good it felt. And you were just starting to love it.

You shuffle back and rake your clawed hand down his chest, five raised red lines appearing in its wake. Johnny watches in wide eyed awe, chest heaving as he follows your hand . He thinks his heart stops when he feels you reach between you both to palm his cock.

Another curse falls from Johnny’s lips as he shudders. He’s used to getting what he wants, taking what he needs, but you’re just toying with him. The thought of being balls deep inside you, making you come again and again until your resolve breaks and you beg for more is what makes him snap. And you seem to read his mind, because you smirk and ask, “Still want to fuck me?”

Johnny nods desperately.

“Then, fuck me like the whore you are.”

He pushes you back and you squeak, falling a little roughly to the pillows. You can feel Johnny trapped between your legs, gripping your thighs with a look of primal need. He runs the tip of his cock through your wet folds, expecting you to moan out. When you don’t, he pouts slightly.

"What’s wrong?” You taunt, meeting his eyes. “Need a hand?”

You don’t expect Johnny to rut into you, burying himself deep within your slick cunt with ease, and your face conveys as much. You’re wide eyed and your mouth hangs open in silent moan as you look up at him. Johnny places his hands either side of your head, looming over you and setting a brutal pace; burying his cock into your pussy again and again.

You groan loudly as you clench around him, latching your nails into his back to ground yourself. Your nails dig into his skin so tightly you think you’ll draw blood. Johnny moans at the sensation of being inside of you and your nails – no claws – feel so good digging into his skin he thinks that maybe he should do this again with you. Maybe more than once. Definitely more than twice.

“So. Desperate.” You pant out. “Everyone was right; you are a good fuck.”

“Fuck, so are you.” Johnny uses his right arm to hook your left knee, raising your leg up over his shoulder. His left arm wraps under your right shoulder, anchoring himself to you before fucking into with newfound fervour. The new, deeper angle makes you curse loudly and it’s not long before you cum over his cock.

“Feel so good,” he grunts into your neck, leaving sweet kisses along your exposed skin. “I knew you liked me. I fuckin’ knew it. This is exactly where you wanted to be.”

“I hate you,” you correct swiftly, trying to glare up at him but the pleasure you’re feeling makes it hard to stay focused. “You’re such an ass. At least you’re good for something.”

Johnny groans, hips faltering for a moment at your words. His cock throbs inside you and he moves to kiss you but you hand grasps his chin millimetres from your lips, halting him in his tracks.

“I meant it when I said you wouldn’t kiss me.” You say firmly.

“But – but I wanna kiss you,” he whines, picking up pace again. “Feels so good, fuck.” His head drops to your shoulder, grunting as he listens to your breathless moans. The wet slapping sounds of his sac against your soaked cunt as he pummels you into the bed fill the room. You can feel pressure building again and you know your orgasm is close.

“Please.” Johnny begs again, pushing your leg over his shoulder up towards you. “Shit I don’t know if I can hold out much longer baby.” Johnny’s eyes meet yours but it’s brief. Your eyes roll back into your head, legs shake and you moan loudly. Your pussy clenches around his cock, milking him as you soak his precious Armani slacks in your cum. Johnny’s orgasm follows closely after with a stuttering groan, watching your blissed out expression as he spills into you.

His hips still and he collapses on top of you, mumbling sweet nothings and kisses to your neck, whilst you both come down from your respective highs. Once your breathing levels out, you look down to your neck to find Johnny’s blue eyes looking up at you, a shit-eating grin on his face. He expects you to smile back, wrap your arms around him and thank him, praise him. Maybe even throwing in a line about wanting to see him again and getting his number.

But you don’t. You raise an eyebrow at him and offer a wry smile, patting his back gently. You lie back into the pillows with a deep, exhausted from the frustration and from your orgasms. Your eyes flutter closed – floating away on the plush, soft pillows.

“So,” Johnny says, trying to keep the bafflement from his voice when you offer him nothing. “How was that for you?”

Irritation nags at the corner of your brain and you try not to scowl. Stupidly, you’d thought he’d slink out – head back to the party. Leave you to your slight shame of the events of tonight – and surprisingly relaxed demeanour – and not either you again. You had thought wrong.

“Good.” You say, trying to sound at least marginally happy.

“Just good?” Johnny presses, shifting a little to try and see your face. Now you you’re really trying not to scowl.

“Uh...” You search for words, trying not to be sarcastic and mean. “Amazing?”

Johnny smirks, looking incredibly smug despite reading your expression wrong again. “Good.”

You hum, pulling a small face of disgust and shift in the bed, turning away from Johnny. You cosy down and your eyes flutter again. Then you feel Johnny’s warm arm drape over your waist and he wiggles forward, holding you close against his chest. Your stomach turns. It’s so.... inviting, so caring, it makes you sick. It’s fake.

“You were amazing too, by the way.” Johnny murmurs, pressing a kiss to your ear. You can feel him still smirking and you shiver. Your annoyance level is rising again. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. You didn’t realise tolerating him after would be something you had to worry about.

“Mmhmm.” You attempt to zone him out, letting him babble to himself whilst you get to sleep.

“I’d like to do this again – see you again.” He whispers, settling into his own pillow.

“Yuh huh.” Sleep is tugging at you now and you’re not paying attention. It’s not all bad you suppose – you have someone you will, and quite literally, keep you warm for the night. But you do wish he’d stop talking.

After a few more moments of soft murmurs, Johnny finally sighs into your neck, lulling himself into sleep with you not far behind. You fall asleep dreaming of anything but him and he falls asleep dreaming of you.

Day 2

[blackoutdays13]

When it rains it pours intro

Ben Hargreeeves x reader mini series

Won’t be updated on a regular schedule (meaning it might not be complete)

Please be patient with me because I’ve never written on tumblr before, so I’m not sure how to make it look nice.

First person pov, and fem reader. Readers powers are electricity of some sort. Like a power source almost. But that doesn’t matter yet.

”When it rains, it pours” prologue

The distant sounds of cars honking fills my ears, and gentle drops of rain hit my face as I slowly enter a state of consciousness. I slowly open my eyes, and glance around to find myself in an unfamiliar alleyway. I bring myself to a sitting position, and think back to where I had been previously. 

It takes me a few moments to realize that it doesn’t look like I’m in Dallas anymore. Or at least not in the 60’s. I see in the corner of my eye a burned up briefcase, and I remember where I had been. 

Last thing I remember was being with Five, and Luther waits for the others. Klaus had shown up, and everyone else was missing in action. So Five had to get rid of the briefcase he had gotten. He must have hit me in the head, sending me through time cause my very last memory was of a black box flying into my face. 

 I wonder where the others are. Why am I here, and where even am I? I decide I might as well find out, so I walk out of the alley and glance around the area. It seems like the town us umbrellas grew up in… but something is off. I can feel it. 

It almost feels brighter out. The rain is more peaceful. Civilians seem much more relaxed, and comfortable walking the streets. They have their umbrella over their heads with a kind of unrecognizable confidence. If I weren’t apart of the small group of individuals who were “blessed” with special abilities I wouldn’t feel comfortable walking the streets. 

As more people pass me by I wonder more and more where I am. Or when I am. It’s clearly not Dallas, but something is too different for it to be home. I just can’t figure out what. That is until I see a big banner marked with the a big logo saying “Reginald Hargreeves Sparrow Academy”. 

“Shit” I mutter to myself. I look at this banner and see seven unfamiliar faces. Well six, and a cube? Why the fuck is a cube in this so called sparrow academy?

I look away from the banner, and pick up my pace. I don’t know where the hell I am, but I know this town. So I go the only place I can think of. I go to what was shortly know as home. 

After running through the streets I get stopped by an enormous crowd, staring at the sky and cheering. I get confused as my heart races in fear. only to see a small white towel fall from the sky. I look up to see a man, who I recognize as the front and center of the banner, standing on top of the mansion. 

I look at the building and see iron gates, with bird shapes crafted into the metal. No more umbrellas. 

I feel my palms start to sweat, and hear my heart pounding in my ears. I’m stranded. I mean there is no doomsday, but I’m alone. The Hargreeves must be lost in time, and stuck in the 60’s. Leaving me lost in an unknown world 

I’m sure maybe there is a chance they could come back, but I’ve learned not to trust time travel. I mean it got five stuck in an apocalypse, scattered us across the 60’s, and now has left me in a timeline similar to my own, but not quite right. 

As the rain starts to pour the crowd disperses. I’d rather not be seen by these sparrows, so I leave to. I don’t know where I’m headed, but sure I can figure it out.

Stop cause this was so cringe. My bad. Also anyone who wants to be tagged please let me know. @cherryinsalemverse @heymsperfectlyfine

[mymelodymia]

i'm still here // dad!thor odinson x daughter!reader

!!!ENDGAME SPOILERS!!!

Summary: your brought back after 5 years...

Warnings: literally a single cuss word from rocket, fear of being alone, crying, character death mentioned, overall fluff,

Age: 16

A/N: hope yall like this one too 🥰

+•°+*°•+pt 1 here+•°+*°•+

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

You felt weightless, like you were floating. You gained physical consciousness soon after this. You were laying flat on your back on the forest floor, arms curled up as if you were trying to hold something.

You sat up and looked around to see more avengers also confused. You looked around and realized, your dad wasn't there like he was before you passed out.

"Dad?" You whimpered out, trying to find him. You whipped your head around as you heard sparkling behind you.

"Who the h3ll are you?" Rabbit asked (srry i love calling him that)

"Come on its been five years, we...the avengers need you" strange told you all. You blinked at him a few times in confusion, "its been how long!?" You shouted, eyes wide.

Strange helped you up and you all fell into the portal.

You had just started fighting the alien dogs. Not knowing what to do. You soon found yourself outnumbered by these dogs. You were trying to get them away but it did nothing.

You were pinned on the ground, they kept trying to get to you but tony flew by and blasted them for you. "Thanks!" You yelled at him, he nodded in response before flying off to the distance.

You stood up to brush yourself off, and your father was standing a few feet away from you, just staring in shock.

You gasped as you made eye contact with him, tears welled up in his eyes.

He pulled you Into a strong hug quickly. He squeezed you so hard you thought you might d!e.

He pulled away to look at your face, he let out a sad chuckle as he looked at you, innocently looking back up at him.

He held you to his chest as he sobbed. Yes, your father always acted like nothing and no one could make him cry, or even make him emotional. But when it came to you, he was a verryyy delicate flower.

"Im still here." He whispered to you.

He had lost everyone in his life, his mother, his father, his brother, his best friend, his lover, and the one person he couldn't let go of, You. But you, unlike anyone, came back to him. And healed his broken heart. He was the only person you had as well, after losing your uncle and watching it happen before your eyes hurt like no other.

Another space dog ran at you two and tony, once again, swept past and blasted it. "Second time! Not helping you anymore" he quickly spoke before flying away.

"We should help" you told thor. "Yes, we should" he smiled sadly, finally having something in life.

You both continued to fight together. You looked to your left after a while, to see tony, on his knees, with the stones.

Tony acted like your father when thor wasn't around, he was also your best-est friend, other then thor. Even once accidentally calling him dad. And though he would always deny it, he saw you as his daughter.

You gasped and covered your mouth as he said the words, "i.... am.. iron man" and snapped. You ran over to him immediately, Peter got to him before you. He sobbed out a small, pained "tony..." you held him as he cried.

You were the first one to Kneel before tony, a helpless tiny human, had saved the universe on his own. Everyone followed your actions.

You sobbed for days after this tragic event, your dad had to hold you up on his funeral because you were crying so much.

"Im still here" thor muttered to you as he held you close too him. It took a while to get over but eventually, it happened.

You found out through pepper that you and peter were the god parents for morgan 😭 thor was with every step of your healing, he thought leaving your side was a bad idea. Or he just missed you over the years lol.

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

Tags

@animealways // @white-wolf-buckaroo // @tonystark-au // @yummyangy // @zebralover // @carellmcu

[nausikaaa]

Six Sentence Sunday

thanks for tagging me @run-for-chamo-miles @that-disabled-princess and @orange-peony!

classicstober 2024's prompts have been announced and i'm super excited because it's historical figures! my obsession with Roman non-fiction and biographies has finally paid off!

i thought it would be a good opportunity to jumpstart my writing brain by writing lots of short and snappy things. and so today, i've written 1000 or so words for Regina of South Shields, who i've had the pleasure of visiting!

i'm about to ramble, so i'm putting it under a cut. also warning, i've included photos of a tombstone and a human skeleton. if you just want to read the six sentences and not see them, scroll fast right to the bottom.

so, this is Regina. or rather, her tombstone, discovered by builders in 1878, and a reconstruction of how it might have looked when it was erected. if you haven't heard of her, which is understandable, she was a British woman from modern day St Albans (near London) during the Roman occupation of Britain. she was sold as a slave (did her family need money? was she born a slave? we don't know) and bought by a man named Barates, from Palmyra, a city in modern day Syria, who was either a soldier or at least travelling with the Roman army. they moved to a garrison close to Hadrian's Wall in what is now South Shields in the north east, and Barates fell in love with Regina. he freed her and they got married.

her tombstone is mostly important because it tells us that a Syrian man was in Britain during this time, and since her tombstone has Palmyrene script on it, and the chances he engraved his own wife's tombstone are slim, there was likely at least one other Syrian person who could engrave headstones around. which suggests that there was a whole group! the name of the Roman fort in South Shields was Arbeia, which could even mean "the place of the arabs."

it's estimated that a third of people in Britain during the Roman occupation were long distance migrants, and most were not slaves, as is often assumed. Ivory Bangle Lady, who I have also visited in York Museum and who lived around the same time, is believed to have come from Africa. and she was a wealthy free woman!

but what about Regina? well, we know she was from the Catuvellauni tribe, and that she died aged 30. we can assume she spun wool as she's depicted doing so on the tombstone, which was a respectable pastime for Roman women, and she's shown wearing lots of jewellery, so she probably led a comfortable life.

but we don't know how she felt about her marriage, as her tombstone is in Barates' words. did she love him back, or was she under duress to marry him to improve her own prospects? did they have children? did she have friends in Arbeia? did she have to learn Aramaic or Latin to communicate with Barates, or did he know Celtic? we simply don't know. so much of her personality has been lost to time.

so my challenge was to write something that pieces together various possibilities to create what could be an approximation of who Regina was. to give her some life, a voice, and at least a bit of agency.

okay. enough preamble. here's six lines:

I had grown and reached my twentieth year, and as the dark circles beneath my eyes disappeared and the warmer months led me to abandon my woollen cloak, I noticed men's behaviour towards me change. I am not the type to play at being coy- I knew they found me attractive. With my white skin, red hair, and pale blue eyes, I was exotic to them. I stood out.

I noticed Barates' behaviour change too. I realised I had a choice to make.

if you want to know more about Regina, my main source is this podcast by Mary Beard, but i also took inspiration from the book Roman Woman by Lindsay Allason-Jones.

tags: @forabeatofadrum @j-nipper-95 @artsyunderstudy @prettygoododds @confused-bi-queer @imagineacoolusername @ic3-que3n @aristocratic-otter @larkral @hushed-chorus @ivelovedhimthroughworse @shemakesmeforget @fatalfangirl @ebbpettier @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @cutestkilla @youarenevertooold @alexalexinii @shrekgogurt @bookish-bogwitch @thewholelemon @supercutedinosaurs @shutup-andletme-go @theearlgreymage @ileadacharmedlife @alleycat0306 @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @comesitintheclover @noblecorgi @roomwithanopenfire and @blackberrysummerblog

[roznnreads]

The Beast Within

Tamlin x Beron

Tags : Smut, Sub!Beron, Dom!Tamlin, Blow Job, m!receiving, making out

Summary : Stripped of his power Beron runs into Tamlin’s Court and his arms

18+ Minors do not interact / Read at your own risk

a/n : thank you Elain-Gate for planting this crackship into my brain, I wrote 70% of this on vacation on a literal beach, Welcome to pure shit posting 

wc: 1.6k

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Following Eris’s takeover of the Autumn Court stripping Beron of his former power, He was banished from the lands, never to set foot in Autumn again. 

Beron hearing of Tamlin’s mercy of his ‘son’ his first move once escaping the forest palace was to run to the southern border, his neighbor, Spring.

He was stripped of his royal regalia, his fine clothes, his jewels he fought so hard to keep were ripped off and thrown to the side, forgotten. Like his fate would eventually be. 

For the first time since he was a young boy he felt fear, not of being killed by his own son, it was expected, but of feeling powerless it had been centuries of living with the might of Autumn running through his veins it became second nature to call forward this power. No more.

On foot Beron was running through the forests, the autumn leaves dotting the trees and forest floor, making the world look the same, he was bound to get lost, stumbling over a protruding tree root caused him to tumble to the floor, pain sprung from his hands and knees, looking down Beron could see the skin shredded and the blood beginning to pool, this was bad, more than just being injured but the beasts that lurked in the forests, that Beron himself had let run wild, unchecked, would stalk towards him at lethal speeds, eat him raw and leave only his bones to be retaken by nature. 

Getting up Beron picked a direction and ran he would not have to rest and heal himself using normal fey means, sprinting away the trickles of blood from his hands and knees that marked his movements began to fall, he had to make it to spring to beg for mercy from Tamlin, it was mortifying but the only way to regain his power and give himself a chance to survive.

~ 

Seeing the green in the distance gave him the brief sliver of hope, he was almost at the border, he could hear the footfalls of both beast and fey alike gaining ground he could see his life ahead and his death behind, when had everything gone so wrong 

Reaching the green leaves he could feel the thrum of power wash over him running through the border, the wards over the court allowing him entry looking behind him he could see Autumn soldiers and the mythical bloodthirsty animals in their tow. As they approached the border a spike of fear ran through Berons spine. If he could enter why not them. But they were not granted entry instead being bounced off Beron would have laughed if he was sure the High Lord would house him in the court. 

~ 

After walking through the court the fawna was unlike those in Autumn they were vibrant and lush the dew on the grassy ground supported his steps as he wandered through trying to find a sign of fey life. 

A rustle of the trees was all he needed to know he wasn’t alone. The voice of the High Lord rang through all sides of the forest surrounding him like he was disguised as the green around him, it was unknown how Tamlin’s shapeshifting worked and the limitations of it, it was a well kept secret of the royal family.

“Beron are you blind”

“-what” Beron said confused 

“You seem to have stumbled into the wrong court”

“I was let in, the borders” said Beron, Tamlin walked towards him his beast form was a hulking wolf like form with antlers adorning his head, 

“I hear there is a new High Lord of Autumn, I’m surprised you're still alive” Tamlin said shifting into his high fey form the bones and muscles reshaping in a gruesome display of contortion remaking themselves into form. 

Beron flinched back 

“So am I” Beron said “I hope you will not take it too soon”

“You were a faithful ally, it would be regretful to kill you where you stand”

“I would like to claim sanctuary in your court”

“I assumed so, I accept your claim, follow me”

And with that Tamlin stalked away from Beron leaving him nothing other to do than follow 

~

The day progressed and Beron was wined and dined by the Lord of Spring the ornate dining room had been destroyed when Hybern made their stay in Spring so they ate in one of Tamlin’s private rooms, one of those rooms you would dine with a confidant out of the eye and ear of the courtesans and staff. 

For two people who historically had disagreed on many subject and it was true they had different dispositions and temperament, the dinner was more than amicable but one of the first likable dinners Beron had in years, Tamlin dispute his faults provided a decent meal and his features provided a more than decent display.  

Six glasses deep into Spring wine, truly Beron should have imported more of it into his stores, fey naturally have a higher immunity to alcohol, a high lord even more so, but Beron underestimated his tolerance and was now laughing deeply at Tamlin’s stupid jokes his cheeks were blushed, if he had more sense in his brain he would have been embarrassed at his lack of propriety. Tamlin had held his wine better, with grace, yet his half lidded eyes staring into his dripped with lust, more than the wine warmed Beron’s body as his blood rushed towards his dick.

Berons thoughts were betraying him, he was across from Tamlin the low light from the candles softened Tamlin’s harsh features, his arms resting on the table were cover with sleeves but the toned arms were still clearly there, his hands

oh

his hands

What Beron would do to have those hands wrap around his throat, to squeeze and have his breath constricted, his dick twitched at the thought, Beron saw the monster lurking under the beautiful male’s skin, he knew the stories and rumors about the High King of Spring’s trists, he could only imagine what power that beast would unleash, and he craved it, after years of being the one in control, the domineering one in any relationship, he had lost his centuries long control over Autumn and it was if the dam broke, he needed it, he craved it 

“You see something you like?”, Tamlin said breaking into Berons mind, hearing Tamlin’s voice broke him from his trance the fork in his hand was bent crooked and partially melting in his hand, 

“So what if I do, what are you going to do about that?” leaning forward in challenge

“If you're that desperate why don't you come over and show me what you like so  much”

“You bastard”

Tamlin laughed a deep guttural laugh, which Beron quickly shut up by pouncing over the table, their lips connect, Beron kneeling on the table leaning onto Tamlin for support, One of Tamlin’s hands holding his waist, another palms his face. 

He moans into his mouth, the strong capable hands keeping him in place. 

Breaking apart for a moment, Tamlin breath is as ragged as his arms are tense, Tamins mind and body at war, Beron could smell him, his musk smelled of the dew in the morning and crisp wind

Next thing he knew Tamlin’s mouth was on his neck, his smoothly shaven face attacking his bristly skin. Sucking a purple mark on his pulse point, Beron let out a pathetically loud whine

Tamlin Chuckled into his neck as he pulled Beron onto his lap, straddling him, the contact of their bodies made him moan again, he needed more of him, to feel his bare skin, the thought of that made Beron roll his hips he could feel Tamlin he was hard beneath him and he let out a wanton moan.

“So Needy, Are you truly that desperate” Tamlin laughed

Beron snarled at him but his heart wasn’t behind it it sounded almost like a moan

“Aww, do you like that, the high and mighty Beron Vanserra, do you like to submit” teased Tamlin, Beron lowered his head in embarrassment

“Don’t make me beg” Beron said in a low voice, pleading

“What is it that you want then ” Tamlin said grasping Beron’s chin harshly to make him look at him “Tell me”

Beron tried to speak but his words couldn’t find him instead he palmed at Tamlin’s pants

“Use your words” He said sternly 

“Let me” He grabbed at Tamlin, trying to untie his pants in his fervor failing to do so but getting the point across 

“On your knees” He commanded, Beron quickly shuffled onto the floor in front of Tamlin, looking up at the High Lord he saw a flicker of surprise, quickly masked by a smug smile,“I would have thought you put up more of a fight, with fathering seven children I thought you would be well pleased or are you just a wanton male”

“Perhaps there is not a supply of what I want in Autumn” Beron says now successfully undoing Tamlin’s pants and pulling out his cock. It was long and girthy standing upright it almost slapped Beron in his face. Precum was leaking from the head

Beron thumbed his head smearing precum across him before licking from the base to the head, then he took him whole,  he started at a slow pace wanting to feel all of him but he soon felt Tamlin’s hand grip his now tousled hair, Beron is forced into a relentless pace and it isn’t long before the salty taste of cum in filling up Beron’s mouth, he does his best to swallow what he can but when he forces Tamlin to break his hold on his scalp, the white liquid dribbled from his mouth and onto his shirt.

Beron looks up at what he did to the Lord of Spring, his a sweaty ragged mess looking down at him, and he can’t help but smile at the thought that Tamlin wanted this as well.

[anameistoohard]

Hi, my name is Kassandra and recently I've become interested in systems, how they feel and how they form.

I don't think I am one but I would love to learn more about that, partially out of curiosity (I hope that's not a rude thing to say) and partially because I want to better understand others and what they go through.

Do you have any links that might help me learn more? I tried looking into ot myself but I'm not sure which sites are trustworthy and which spread false information. I was hoping you might have a better grasp on things.

Again, I'm sorry if what I said is rude, finding the right words is often hard for me. Please be assured that I have nothing but respect for you

Hi, sorry for the late answer ^_^'

I don't think I am one but I would love to learn more about that, partially out of curiosity (I hope that's not a rude thing to say) and partially because I want to better understand others and what they go through.

Not rude at all! And in fact, that mindset was exactly what led us down the path to discovering our system (I wanna make a comic about that eventually ^^)

We mentioned in our pinned post that we're not very good at keeping track of links. But I remember The Rings System on YouTube being a good jumping off point, and that they tend to link stuff in the description of their videos.

(@fleepadeep tagging you because this answers your ask too)

My main bit of advice is read the diagnostic criteria in the DSM-5 and/or ICD-11 for Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). As well as Other Specified Dissociative Disorder (OSDD) (look at OSDD-1 specifically) in the DSM and Partial Dissociative Identity Disorder (P-DID) in the ICD. OSDD-1 and P-DID are similar just the different manuals' take on it. DID, OSDD-1, and P-DID are all types of disordered plurality.

It's important to familiarize yourself with the diagnostic criteria because it's the easiest way to know when someone's bullshiting you. People turn stuff like "DID is heavily associated with childhood trauma." into "You have to have experienced the arbitrary severity of trauma that I set in order to have DID!"

Also the DSM and ICD specifically exclude certain forms of plurality, thus acknowledging their existence. People like to claim only people with DID are "real systems". Which is demonstrably untrue. Steer clear of people who are not willing to acknowledge the existence of non disordered systems.

And just generally, if someone speaks in absolutes take what they're saying with a heavy helping of salt. People like to claim they know how plurality forms, but they don't, no one knows for sure. People take speculation and treat it as fact.

Those are some of the major pitfalls.

Oh and I'd recommend diving into the science side of things first and getting a basic understanding of things before delving into places like r/plural on Reddit. Once people start bringing their spiritual beliefs into things shit gets confusing fast. That's like, hard mode.

You need to have a basic understanding of the vocabulary used in plural spaces in order to understand what people are talking about and not get lost. But once you have that, I'd start trying to hear personal experiences from as many systems as possible. Every system is different, so you don't want to fall into the trap of thinking one person's experience is true for everyone.

Oh and if anyone has resources they'd like to share feel free.

Taylor's better at this shit. Where is she :/

-Konnor (he/him)