#sometimes i type these things and then sit back and i'm like

[darkbluekies]

Cannot take what was never meant to leave

Yandere!king OC x fem!fairy!reader

Summary: Edmund walks out in the forest and finds something he never seen before: a tree fairy. Upon learning that he can't take her as long as her tree is there, he does the only thing he can think of.

Warnings: Edmund is a bit more insane than usual, reader is in a lot of pain, kidnapping, basically killing, use of an ax

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: this is HEAVILY inspired by Erutan's song "The Willow Maid"!! I have absolutely loved that song for ages, and after seeing PurestarMedia's music video of it on YouTube, I had to write something!! Edmund felt like the perfect fit for it!!

Summer is almost over. He can tell by a slight shift in the winds that colder times are approaching, even though barely any of the trees show any signs of autumn. He can't wait until he can bring out his thicker coat. He likes the colors of it much more.

Ten men he brought with him on his hunt for rabbits. They've decided to go into another part of the forest in hopes of finding anything.

Suddenly. A sound.

“Shh!” Edmund hushes and holds up a hand, signaling the others to stop.

He listens closely. It sounds like humming. It's a tune he has never heard before, but one that feels weirdly familiar — as if he has heard it in a dream or past life.

Quietly, they follow the sound until they reach a field full of small, white flowers. In the middle of the white field stands a tree with dark leaves. A scene taken straight out of one of the paintings hanging on the castle walls. Edmund notices someone sitting by the foot of the tree, resting among the roots. A woman?

The group of men creep closer. The woman is lying on the tree roots, leaning her head against the tree trunk, having a root under her knees for support. She's dressed in a long, white gown reminding Edmund of the small flowers. On her head rests a flower crown made of the very flowers. Her eyes are shut. Her mouth hums. 

A fairy.

One of Edmund’s men steps onto a branch on the floor, which snaps in half and pulls the fairy out of her thoughts. Her eyes snap open, revealing them to be deep and dark — and full of fear. She shoots up from her root and stumbles backwards, hiding behind her tree.

“Who are you?” she asks quickly. “What do you want?”

“You are a fairy”, Edmund says, still in disbelief.

“Yes … what do you want?”

“Have you seen any rabbits around here?”

She peeks out from behind the tree.

“What do you want them?” she asks and seems to notice the rifles hanging over their shoulders. “I'm not assisting you in killing harmless creatures.”

Edmund meets her dark eyes. They're hypnotic.

“You humans are despicable sometimes”, she says. “Killing innocent creatures who haven't done anything to you.”

“If I wouldn't, someone else would — man or animal.”

“I want you to leave.”

“Yeah, we should move on. We have rabbits to hunt.”

He can feel her eyes burn through his back as he walks back over the field of white flowers. He hopes that she will watch him until he disappears into the forest.

“Did you have a good hunt, your majesty?” his secretary asks as Edmund and his ten men come back to the castle.

“Caught a few rabbits”, he answers and smiles, thinking of the memory. “We encountered a fairy.”

They start to walk inside. 

“A fairy?” the secretary asks and holds the door into the castle open for the young king.

“What do you know about fairies?” Edmund asks. 

They walk down the large hall.

“I know that, like humans, there are different types of fairies”, the secretary says. “You found her in the woods, you said?”

Edmund nods. 

“She’s probably a tree fairy”, the secretary continues. 

“Yeah, she was sitting by a tree … almost like it was holding her”, Edmund says, furrowing his dark brows as he thinks about it. 

He holds out his arms as if he was carrying a woman, imagining her knees bending over his right arm and her back supported by his left … her head resting on his shoulder — like she had done to the tree bark. 

They walk into Edmund’s office, closing the door behind them. 

“What do you know about tree fairies?” Edmund asks and throws himself in his chair. 

“I know that they live in the woods and that they are connected to a particular tree. They feed off of sap from the tree and flower nectar — and if their tree bears fruit they eat that too.”

“What happens if they eat something else? Like meat? Or potatoes?”

“I don’t know, your majesty.”

“Would it kill them, do you think?”

“Perhaps. What I do know kills a tree fairy is killing their tree.”

Edmund looks up at him. “What?” 

“Their life source is connected to their tree. They live as long as their tree does.”

“So you’re saying that a fairy can become hundreds of years? Thousands even?”

“Could be.”

“Interesting.” He sighs and throws his head back. “You should have seen that thing. Before she noticed us she looked so … peaceful. She was resting and humming a tune. When she realized that we were there she flew up and hid behind her tree. All of that seemed so young and naive. Her tree wasn’t that large either. I think I’ve found myself a young fairy.”

“The fairy seems to interest you.”

“I’ve always wanted to meet a fairy. I didn’t believe that they actually existed. But now, I’ve found one. I think that I’m going to make her my wife.”

The next day, he returns with his ten men and his secretary, dressed in his autumn coat. On the way to the glade, Edmund picks a few flowers with the biggest nectars he can find, hoping that they will be a good enough gift. He is going to ask her to marry him. 

She is walking around the white flowers, picking up a few and putting them in her flower crown. She looks up as they come. This time she doesn’t look as startled, but there’s something wary in her eyes. 

She’s beautiful and delicate, there’s no denying. Edmund needs her. Every fiber of his body needs her. She needs to be his wife, to be the mother to his children. He refuses to leave without her. 

“What brings you back?” she asks as Edmund gets close enough, but doesn’t sound like she wants to know. 

He can tell that she wants to get back to her tree. She gives it quick glimpses and takes small steps back towards it. 

Edmund holds out the flowers towards her. She hesitates before taking them out of his hand. Her fingertips barely graces his skin. Her touch is humanlike, kind and delicate. 

“Thank you”, she says and smells them softly. 

He smiles. He wants nothing more than to hug her, to hold what belongs to him in his arms, but he has to ask the question first.

“I want you to marry me”, Edmund says. 

The fairy drops the flowers in shock. They disappear underneath the small, white ones. Edmund furrows his brows.

“Marry you?” the fairy repeats, shocked. “How could I possibly-? No, no, I shall not.”

Edmund stares at her, eyes darkening, unable to understand how anyone could turn down his proposal. Women would travel far and wide to hear those words come from his mouth, and this fairy — who does she think she is — doesn’t even think twice before rejecting him. It should crush him, but instead it has the opposite effect. He will not leave without his fairy. 

He looks over his shoulder, at his ten men. “Seize her.”

Just as the ten men are about to grab the fleeing girl, his secretary grabs his shoulder. 

“Your majesty, don’t”, he says quickly. “That won’t be possible. She can’t leave the glade.”

“What do you mean?” Edmund scoffs.

“She’s connected to that tree.” He nods towards the tree in the middle of the field. “She can’t leave it.”

Edmund glares at the tree. That damn tree. The woman runs through the flowers towards her tree, hugging it tightly. Edmund finds it humorous how she thinks a simple tree could protect her. He could do it a hundred times better, will do it a hundred times better. 

He sees how she sinks down by the tree, huddled up by the tree bark, crying. Soon, she will search for comfort in him, not a damn tree. 

“We can’t take her”, the secretary says. “I don’t know what would happen if we tried, but as long as that tree is there, we can’t remove her.”

Edmund doesn’t answer as he walks back into the forest. The ten men follow him. His secretary keeps a distance. Edmund feels like he could explode with anger. He had pictured himself leaving the forest with his new fiance hand in hand. But he will not give up. He will get his fairy. 

He returns a third time the next day. This time he’s by himself … and this time, he’s brought an ax. Determined to take her with him. She will be his wife. This time, he’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer. He will not walk away empty handed. The thought consumes him as he marches through the forest, towards the glade. 

He can see her lying in the same spot he had seen her the first time. This time, she’s not humming. She opens her eyes as he gets nearer and jumps to her feet as her eyes fall on the sharp edge of the ax. 

“No!” she screams in pure panic. “No, what are you doing?! Don’t!”

Edmund lifts his hands and lands a blow on the bark, cutting away a piece. To his right, the fairy screams in agonizing pain and clutches her heart. He continues to hit the tree. The woman continues to scream. She cries in pain. 

It takes longer than he expects. He takes his eyes off the deep cut in the tree and turns them towards her. She’s lying between the roots, curled up with her hands pressed against her heart, crying and screaming. 

“Please stop!” she screams and sobs so that her entire body trembles. “Y-You’ll kill me! Please s-stop, please! I’m begging y-you!”

If he continues to hit the tree, she will die. 

Edmund will have to bring a piece of the tree with him and replant it in his castle’s garden so that it doesn’t die — so that she doesn’t die. He continues to chop. She continues to scream, cry and plead for him to stop. 

A loud creaking echoes through the air. He watches as the tree bends in half and falls. The fairy stumbles upon weak legs and hugs her fallen tree, sobbing. 

With the ax, Edmund manages to dig up root systems of the tree. He holds it in his left hand and grabs the fairy’s wrist tightly with his right. He yanks her up on her feet. 

“You belong to me now”, he says. 

She only sobs for an answer. She tries reaching out for her tree, but Edmund pulls her with him. She stumbles. He drags her into the forest. 

“Please …”, she sobs. “Please …”

He doesn’t know what she begs for. The tree is fallen, he can’t undo what he has done. 

“Please, I’m in so much pain”, she pants. 

He doesn’t listen, doesn’t have time for it. He has to get her to the castle, where he can lock her in, so that she can’t escape out to the forest again. 

He can feel her collapse. Edmund gasps and watches her lie lifeless on the ground. He shoves the tree roots in his pocket and hurries to check her pulse. She’s still living, for now. Edmund stresses to pick her up. Her limp body rests in his arms as he runs out of the forest, towards the castle. 

He runs into the castle yard, into the hallways and out to the garden. He lays the fairy down on the grass and hurried to dig a hole with his hands. Oh, how he hates the feeling of dirt under his nails. He can’t think about that now. 

He places the root in the hole and covers it with the soil. Edmund runs over to the fountain, cups his hands and fills it with water. He runs back and forth until enough water has been poured over it. He feels for a pulse on the fairy’s neck. There’s still a faint pulsation underneath his fingers. He removes his coat and places it on the ground beside the tree root before lifting the fairy onto it. He caresses her face. 

“You actually got her.”

He looks over his shoulder at his secretary. He stands there, looking at them in disbelief and horror. 

“Is she dead?” he asks. 

“No, not yet”, Edmund replies  breathlessly. “I brought a piece of the tree here and I have replanted it. She should survive. But we need flowers — lots of flowers. And anything else a fairy might eat. We need to nurture her back to life.”

“I’ll prepare some honey water, I think that should be drinkable.”

Edmund sits by the fairy, waiting patiently. 

Hours go by. She doesn’t move. Barely breathing. Edmund wonders if he she has fallen into some kind of limbo, where the tree is barely alive, and so is she. If the tree doesn’t survive, neither will she. He has to nurture both. 

He feeds the tree water and nutrient dense soil and tries to pour droplets of honey water into the fairy’s mouth. Sometimes she responds by swallowing softly, and sometimes let it drip out of her mouth. 

Hours turn to days. Days to weeks. As the tree slowly grows roots in Edmund’s soil and become stronger, so does the fairy. Edmund doubts that she will ever become as strong as she was before. The tree will never be in its full glory again, and neither will she. She can’t walk, her body is too weak to move more than a few minutes. He lets her rest by her short stub. When he can’t stay with her, he watches from afar, from one of the windows. She’s always curled up, hugging her stomach as if she’s got cramps. The poor thing never smiles anymore. 

He holds a glass of warm honey water in his hands as he walks out to the petty excuse of a tree. It'll take years to become as big as it originally was, but it will never be the original tree.

“Hi”, Edmund says softly and sits down beside the fairy, holding the cup to her dry lips.

She doesn't seem to care what she gets fed anymore. Maybe she hopes that it will kill her.

In a sense, Edmund has killed the fairy.

She drinks slowly.

“I don't know what to feed you when winter comes”, he says. “I have harvested a lot of nectar and sap, but I don't know how long that will be good for.”

A tear runs down her cheek. Edmund wipes it carefully.

“My fairy, don't worry”, he whispers reassuringly. “I will figure it out.”

He wishes that she could respond, but he hasn't heard her voice since that day she screams in pain — when he killed her.

He stands up, gives her forehead one last kiss before walking back inside. In the beginning, he used to have guards watch over the garden to make sure that she wouldn't run off, but he realized that as long as that tree is there, she isn't going anywhere.

[imagineitdearies]

Hey I loved loved loved your fanfiction as I’m sure everyone here did but now I, going through withdrawals I can’t find anything similar or as good as yours. So I’m curious what your favourite bg3 fanfiction are?

Hey there!! Awww, thank you ☺️ I sort of got super focused on writing PS for a while there, so I can't say I know of all The GreatsTM in this fandom. I will share what I have enjoyed/am currently reading though (almost all of it involving Astarion), but anyone else should feel free to add your favs in the comments!!

As always, please check tags and read at your own discretion!

Finished ones I've enjoyed:

Seducere by Tlon ~ Astarion/nb!Tav ~ Astarion doesn’t need a reflection to know himself – two hundred years of servitude has shown him exactly what he’s good for. Odd that his new partner seems to disagree.

Nothing is safe by foxflowering ~ Wyll/Astarion ~ "Wyll's the sort of prince-type I would have once dreamed of marrying. When I was about thirteen."

Carving through the dark by skitter ~ Astarion/f!Tav ~ Wren and Astarion descend into the Underdark in search of a new purpose, and learn a few things along the way. Namely, that healing isn't linear and sometimes love takes the long way round.

Astarion Origin Party Nonsense by starkraving ~ Astarion/Karlach; Astarion/Cazador, sort of Astarion/Wyll? ~ A collection of things that ostensibly happen in the same little mental universe. Loosely based on the events of an Origin Astarion run and the various questions it inspired. (All but one in the series is finished so I'm counting it, lol!)

All Our Missing Parts by Viraaja ~ Astarion/Halsin ~ Halsin discovers Astarion was turned before his maturity and all the sacred elven rites that come along with it. Including the sex one.

Friday Nights by SadinaSaphrite ~ Astarion/Gale ~ Professor Gale Dakarios loses his research, his magic, and his lover Mystra all at once and only has himself to blame. When he goes to drown his sorrows, he meets a pale stranger with mysteries of his own.

visions of your love by LargeOctahedron, notyournoise ~ Shadowheart/f!Tav ~ Shadowheart is tired of doubting - of feeling her heart twist whenever she looks at Tav without knowing whether they feel the same. One night, tired of sitting and hoping Tav will approach, she tries to read their mind, only to find them in a rather compromising position.

WIPs I'm following:

Palmarosa by thespectaclesofthor ~ Astarion/Raphael ~ Astarion is stuck in the darkness once more, yearning for sunlight with every fibre of his being, while bitterly reflecting on all the things that were denied to him. Raphael knows Astarion's desperate, and comes to him with not one, but two horrid contract offers that Astarion loathes and dreads in equal measure - but the prize at the end of both are too good to turn down.

To Defy the Gods by ~ Shadowheart/Tav ~ Dark Justiciar. Mother Superior. Shar's Voice Made Flesh. Her Chosen. Shadowheart had emptied her heart of falsehoods, of the illusion of life and love, and accepted the inevitability of loss. Almost.

A Dog's Retreat by ~ Halsin & Astarion, past Astarion/Cazador ~ For most, it was just the end of the Absolute. For Astarion, it was the end of two hundred years of agony. And the transition is steep and slippery. Now, all he can do is hope that there are enough pieces of him left for him to pick up and somehow put back together. Too bad hope has never been Astarion’s poison of choice.

A Warm House, A Ruddy Fire by DepravedJJJSchmidt ~ trans!Astarion/Cazador, trans!Astarion/m!Tav ~ Mr. and Mrs. Cazador Szarr have an ideal marriage. Astarion doesn't know if he will be able to survive another year of it. (And I don't know if I'll survive another chapter tbh, but like a burning building I can't look away 😬)

Alright, that's all I can think of! I'm a bit distracted all over again thanks to the original novel I'm working on now, but hopefully you find something new on this list you end up enjoying 🩵 this fandom is full of so many talented people!!

[johnslittlespoon]

Also i love ur john is dog coded prompt 😭😭

IT'S MY FAVOURITE THING EVER. i could go on about it for ages, it makes so much sense; i latched onto it from episode one just based on vibes alone and then the howl on the plane wing and the "okay, meatball" really solidified it. he's literally just a dopey impulsive clingy eager to please puppy. i'm a goner.

[reanimatedgh0ul]

listen ik lance would NOT be the type of guy™ to watch a disney movie but ik for a fact that if someone showed him treasure planet (2002) he would relate to jim hawkins sm that he would basically turn into this lol

[lunanoc]

might as well throw in some pingxie thoughts while i’m at it

i have. many things to say about pingxie. but on the subject of reducing relationships to one dimensional tropes specifically, it does them just as much of a disservice.

my favorite variation of pingxie is in the books (very shocking i know, although that’s technically the original them and not a variation), and by comparison to what’s shown in the dramas (which are fun and self-indulgent don’t get me wrong), the books are the slowest of slow burns. never forget we see everything in them from wu xie’s pov exclusively (at least the main entries), so we can only infer xiaoge’s own growth and development from what wu xie sees of it, but it very much exists.

wu xie has a complicated opinion of xiaoge in the earlier books, mostly because he doesn’t quite know what to make of this man who looks younger than he is and completely blows him off on their first meeting (blows everyone off in fact) much to his displeasure, which leads to the initially derogatory nickname ‘menyouping’, and yet is also vastly competent and knowledgeable. he’s cold and indifferent, yet wu xie feels safe around him and trusts him more than he likely should from the get go, mostly because wu xie’s good at reading people’s intentions and character on an instinctive level he doesn’t always manage to rationalize early on. he’s fascinated and would like to know him better, but also finds him deeply unfathomable, even incomprehensible.

and then you have xiaoge, who it merits saying, is repeatedly described as largely indifferent to most things (and he genuinely is), doing what he deems necessary but otherwise not bothering to involve himself with other people or social niceties. this is a man who spends his time off to the side sleeping or contemplating the sky, and yet in the space of four books he goes from not giving two shts about wu xie (or more than he would the average person) to voluntarily interacting with him, siding with him in quiet ways, helping him through unspoken little acts all the way up until a turning point wherein he first tries to keep his distance from wu xie en route to tamutuo in an effort to keep him from getting further involved than he already is in dangerous things he has no concept of, except by then he’s shown enough uncharacteristic interest in wu xie that wu xie notices he's being cold and distant. this all culminates in the infamous moment where xiaoge eventually lets himself act on thoughts he’s likely never fully analyzed himself, let alone shared with another person, leading to the “if i disappeared no one would notice” moment. 

and from there all the way until post ten years later and into things like yucun biji, the reality is that pingxie were never the serious immortal and the dorky clumsy mortal boy he adopts, nor are they the vulnerable strong one and the eventual protector, or any other trope variation really. pingxie are two people who at the start stand on opposite sides of a line neither of them were ever meant to cross, and to all intents and purposes should never have met for how very different the worlds they come from are. they’re people that circumstance threw together who chose to stay together, and keep choosing each other. they don’t need each other to exist, and could have gone their separate ways had they wanted to, but the importance of their relationship lies in that they stay together by active choice, and that in doing so, they meet in the middle.

wu xie matures and comes to understand a number of things through hardship while xiaoge is behind the gate that untether him just enough from the world that xiaoge isn’t quite so unfathomable anymore, while xiaoge comes down from his imposed pedestal just enough that he tethers himself to wu xie (and pangzi) and learns to live rather than exist

neither of them became a different person for the other, and the core of their relationship (and the beauty of it) is in the harmony and understanding they eventually achieve. reducing all of that to archetypes is honestly a little tragic

[so-many-ocs]

practical writing advice

part 2

avoid writing in bed if you can. writing in bed is the mind-killer. writing in bed is the little death that brings obliteration. you may think "but i can write AND be cozy" you will get sleepy so fast. 98% of the time when i try to get a nighttime writing session done in bed i go to sleep. maybe 70% of the time if it's an afternoon writing session. also it fucking kills your wrists.

STRETCH before writing. stretch as many parts of your body as possible ESPECIALLY YOUR WRISTS! i have chronic tendonitis in both of my arms from not doing this and it is manageable but it is Not Fun!

plug your phone in on the other side of the room. better yet, plug it in and leave it in another room. better yet, power it off and leave it in another room. "i'll just check one quick thing" do not underestimate the power of the doomscroll.

do a warmup. look up writing prompts (i like one-word prompts or prompts that focus on a general theme as it's easier to integrate into my writing style), set a timer for fifteen minutes, or ten, or five, and go ham. make it shitty or incomprehensible, as long as you make it. create a dump document for all your warmups. i currently have two novels in the works that started as one of these fifteen minute little warmups.

pick your background noise ahead of time if you use it, and look for something long. i listen to 3-hour-long silent hill ambient mixes on youtube dot com.

take breaks. around every 45 minutes, as i'm noticing myself begin to lose focus, i get up, grab a drink, get my blood flowing, and give myself some space to breathe.

sometimes i sit down to write and i think "every atom in my body is averse to doing this right now. i would rather dance barefoot on a bed of nails than open my laptop and start typing." and you know what i do? i go do something else instead. don't force it! it will become a chore.

that being said! write as often as possible. try to write every day. try to write at the same time. don't beat yourself up if you can’t, BUT the more often you write, the more often you'll want to write.

if you're stuck on a scene or a page or a chapter, go back to the last place where you felt like you knew what you were doing and start writing from there. keep a copy of your other writing in case you want to reuse it or refer back!

i don't know if this is something that will be helpful for other people but i start mentally preparing myself for my writing session a few hours ahead of time. i will say to myself, "today, at this time, i'm gonna sit down and write that scene where mina walks out on her book club, and it's going to be awesome and i'm looking forward to it." then, by the time i actually begin, i basically have the whole thing written out in my head and can just put it down to paper. it's a good way to at least kickstart the session !

ok thanks bye

[drgnflyteabox]

can't get much better

pairing: ghost / simon riley x fem reader summary: simon is forced to take some time off - he makes the most of it. tags/warnings: very soft, pregnant sex, size difference, softdom!simon- he's a masculine man who doesn't let his lady lift a finger :'), oral (f), one (1) butthole kiss, dacryphilia, daddy kink (sigh), minor minor foot stuff, allusions to injuries and chronic pain, title from an adrianne lenker song w.c: 2.5k

You try very hard not to think about it, but it's hard not to notice how massive he is.

Even shirtless, he somehow looks bigger, muscles flush with heat and exertion under the sun. He toils and breathes hard like an ox, working while you sit on the porch wrapped in his big flannel. Wearing his clothes is like being swaddled in a blanket straight out of the dryer, warm and nostalgic and syrupy with love. It leaves you feeling some type of tender. You're afraid of that feeling sometimes, of how soft it is and how soft it makes you. He could ask anything of you, and you'd yield like he was pressing his thumb into a bruised peach.

You have.

"How are you two?" Simon is so quiet when he wants to be. One would think he'd clomp like a horse with how big he is, but he can float like dust. It used to startle you, but you've been sinking deeper into the memory foam mattress of this life with him and it doesn't anymore.

"Tired, even though I'm not doing anything," you squint at him through the late afternoon sun. It haloes him like an angel.

"You're growing my baby in there, love. That's not nothing," his voice is rough, it always will be. But it's rough now like earth and soil rather than rough with pain and smoke the way he'd sounded when you met him.

You're feeling especially nostalgic, it seems, not like it's hard here. His hand is warm on your belly.

"I guess so," you let him pet you for a moment. Your stomach is swollen but not as big as it'll get, just enough to veto pants. A few months to go still. "How's your back?"

"Argh," Simon says, taking a heavy seat next to you. Dismissive and yet he groans a little when his muscles unclench. Classic.

You slowly reach up and nudge him until he's facing the field opposite to you, face toward the golden afternoon sun and his back to you. He's never asked you to do this, to take care of him, but it's your favourite thing in the world.

His back is always rock-hard no matter how many times you take your knuckles and fingers to it. Just a condition of a hard life lived for him, countless falls and impacts and pushing through injuries. There's a slight slant to his spine now that isn't there in the pictures he's shown you of his youth, but the stiffness is the same. You might've said he was born to be a soldier, had you not known him as a father. He could do both, but - you'd never say this out loud - you were privately grateful for this injury. It wouldn't take him out forever, but the recovery would be long. Long enough to get the homestead started, to get you pregnant.

Simon would never be completely still. This was compromise. Sweet compromise, a life started and time with him you could think back on the next time he shipped out. Making the most of things, he would always say. Making the time count.

"That feels good, love" he groans. Bending forward slowly, relaxing, he's like an aloof stallion finally accepting an apple from your hand. Acquiescing. Showing you his back. It's trust, and you savour it.

"I bet it does," you tease back, just a little. Your fingers are nimble and attuned to his specific aches and pains. "Are you hungry for dinner?"

"I'm hungry for something," he turns, slowly, hands reaching for your thickened waist. Huge, work-roughened hands. War-roughened hands, holding you like a delicate egg. Sometimes it feels like he's the only thing that holds you together; all your pieces, everywhere, until he's holding you.

Kissing him is a contact sport. It's his hands moving, cupping your breast and then your pussy through your panties, your own hands wrapping around his broad shoulders like he's the only thing keeping you from drowning. It's open-mouthed, breathing into each other. Impossibly, you get softer, melting like ice on a hot day. 

Before you can lean back on the bench, he stands and lifts you with him. He's still hot from the day, damp with sweat, pushing you into the house while kissing you still.

"Simon-" you start, with no goal in mind. "Please."

"I've got you, love," he murmurs. He always does. Before you know it, you're laid back onto the plush armchair in your living room. Simon knows this is the most comfortable place for your newly-aching body. Affection swells in your chest uncontrollably and comes out through your eyes leaking down your face. Sure, pregnancy makes people emotional - but you're still embarrassed, touched by how considerate he is.

"It's alright, shh," he thumbs the tears at the corner of your eyes. His cock tents his work pants, aroused by them. "Let me take care of you."

The next words he murmurs are into your cunt, right over your panties, tongue laving over the already-wet fabric. "Just need your daddy, don't you?" You clench in tandem with his words, hot all over, skin prickling. He pushes your dress up, bunching it right under your tits.

It's reminiscent of how you spent the first night with him, on the very first day you'd met. Hurried, his big head between your thighs and clothes hanging off you still while he made you fall apart.

He's fucking good at it, too. Pulls your panties to the side and builds up the pressure with which he sucks on your clit, softly and then harsher until you shake. You've been extra horny lately, always wet around him and always so swollen. The scrape of his five-o-clock shadow against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh is what tips you over, clamping his head tightly and shouting your orgasm into the heady summer air.

"That all it takes?" Simon grins, chin wet, fingers moving from your hips to your pussy to gently rub along your slit.

"Give me a second, please," it's humbling how quickly you come nowadays. Quick and intense. Fireworks.

You set your foot on his shoulder and he turns towards it, kissing your ankle. Patience is rare with him, something come about only since you confirmed your pregnancy. You miss being overwhelmed by him, miss the nights where he'd guide you over the edge one, two, three times in succession.

He pushes now, just a little, not waiting for your go-ahead but watching you intently. His fingers spread your cunt in a V and he puffs a breath on your sensitive clit. You jump. He grins again, leaning down to lick you, using one hand to hold both your legs under your knees and push them until they meet the soft bump of your belly.

"Hold them there," he says. It's spoken not to you, but to your hole, which he spears his tongue into. You obey as you're helpless to do, holding your legs up and giving him an unimpeded view. It's more than vulnerable, it's not only baring yourself to him completely but giving him the authority to do what he wants. What you need.

Simon eats you out like it's a kiss, slurping you down and letting you leak until the evidence of your weakness to him is all over you. Your legs are wet, and it drips down onto your other hole. He pushes a thumb into your cunt, dipping it in and out.

"Needed me, did'ya? Watched me all day," he's so smug, sometimes. His lips find your bare foot, kissing your sole. "Been wet like this all day?" His other hand finds the meat of your asscheek, spreading you open further, letting the split of you open to him. He leans down, kissing your inner thigh, then your other hole. You whine and clench your pussy around his thumb. 

"So needy," he murmurs, finally finally moving back to your clit. Flicks his tongue over it, something that might've been teasing before but is intense now. Your hands tighten against your legs, head thrown back.

"Oh please- Simon!" You shout again, abs drawing up, stars in your eyes. "Ahh- I'm-"

"I know, honey," his lips suction again around the hard little pebble of your clit, eating like a man starved. 

This is how he likes you. Losing control, coming apart, helplessly vocal against the onslaught of his tongue. No matter how many times you've done this, it never gets old. The release almost always makes you cry, especially intense like this. You're wet all over, face and cunt and legs. He is, too.

"You still with me, love?" He pets your flank like you're a horse.

"Yes," but that's not what he wants.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl," and fuck if that doesn't always fill you with warm fuzzy energy. Wipes your brain, keeps you soft and floaty.

He guides you up and out of the armchair, lifts you into his arms when your legs shake too much. That electric feeling is still coursing through you, tingles in your extremities as they come back to life.

The hand he strokes over you is half affectionate, half proprietary. You've been his since the first time he laid eyes on you.

He reminds you of it as he sets you down gently on the bed, your hair a halo around your head and hands reaching to his face where you pull him down for a kiss. Hands find his shirt, pulling it off you, and then the dress. Fingertips touch the headboard, your arms stretching up, making room for him. Slips your panties down your legs.

It's a lingering, indulgent kiss. Breathing each others air, gasping into his mouth, he puts his elbows by your head and lays as much weight down as he can without cramping your full belly. He's as vocal as you, groaning and rutting like a dog.

"Ready for me, sweet girl?" He leans out of the kiss, sitting back on his heels. You nod, desperate and pulsing between the legs again like you didn't just come twice.

"Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't you worry," he rearranges you like a doll, turning you to your side and getting between your legs. A pillow is tucked under your belly, and he tests your flexibility by holding your leg tight to the length of his body. Your hamstring burns a little with it.

A hand holds your knee, another to your waist. His jeans scrape against your sensitive skin.

You focus on little details. His scar, touching his eyebrow and splitting through his nose, ending down by his jaw. The knuckles on his fingers holding your knee, and how rough the pads of his fingers feel on your waist. This man has never had soft hands in his life. Those same hands capable of so much force, so much violence, the very same that hold you and guide you. A shepherd, you his lamb.

The weeping head of his cock kisses your hole, catching there and traveling up. He taps it against your clit until you're tensing, whining, needy again. Tears down your cheeks.

He steadies you, pets your waist, guides his cock inside and it feels like you can breathe again. His mouth laves hot kisses over your ankle, the sole of your foot again, reverent and controlling all at once. The stretch burns - it always does, and maybe always will. Simon is just so big, thick all around and the mushroom head of him could always bump your cervix if he's not careful.

He's careful now, but only just. You can sense his control fraying, his hips driving forward steadily but his thighs tensing and his grip getting meaner. This is your favourite part. Watching him sweat, breathe hard, taking his pleasure in you.

"Yeah-" he cuts himself off with a long, drawn out groan. Deep, from the bottom of his belly and out. "Already so full of me, aren't ya? Can't get full enough."

You plead with your sounds, words out of your grasp. Your hands clutch at the sheets but it isn't enough. He's solid, he's your anchor, but he's losing himself in your cunt and you're free falling.

"Play with your tits for me," he commands, pumping faster. You're reflexively tightening around him, clit jumping for attention, squeaking each time he lets himself in as deep as possible and touches the mouth of your cervix.

Sunlight slowly fades on the bed, the last golden rays escaping out the window as you're bathed in dusk. 

There's nothing to do but obey, hands finding your swollen breasts and squeezing. They've been sore and huge, like that week before you get your period only it's been a couple months. None of your bras fit anymore.

Simon appreciates it, he loves it. Has you cooking for him with your tits out, nipples peaked and pussy leaking. They bounce, now, stopped only by your hands pinching and twisting. It's insane - no one in the world could replicate the feeling. No artist, no musician. Electricity zips from your breasts down to your clit and shit - you might come just like this, untouched, just full of your man and fondling yourself.

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me. Fucking," he pants, leaning over you, bending your leg. "Pinching my dick, sweetheart. Your pussy's so fucking good."

The orgasm begins in your toes, tingling. Your muscles tighten, drawing up, up, towards your cunt, which is making obscene sounds around him.

Simon sees the signs, sees your eyes rolling and your body going taut. He abandons your leg in favour of rubbing your clit with two big fingers quickly, up and down.

"That's it, sweetheart, come all over my cock. Go on," his voice is a snarl, barely distinguishable as human, beastly. "Be good for daddy.”

It's like the crescendo of an orchestra, like a summer afternoon in august, like waking up without a clogged nose after being sick, it's - really fucking good. You're near sobbing, crying out his name, abandoning your tits to reach for him desperately. He meets you halfway, shuddering his own orgasm into you. The press of his hips against yours is better than buttered toast, the delicate press of his chest against yours as he lets your leg go is bliss.

"Si-imon," you slur, hands on his cheeks. He laughs and kisses your forehead.

"What's that, sweet girl?"

"I love you," you cry a little more then, feeling him pull out and lay next to you. You're boneless.

"I love you too," his arm reaches across you, pulling you into him. "Both of you." Hand on your belly again.

"That was insane," you pant. He barks a laugh against your hair. "I'm serious."

"I know you are, love," he kisses your forehead, petting your stomach. You can tell it's meaning, can feel the gratefulness behind the kiss. He's saying thank you, for staying with him, for making him a father. Your hand finds his, squeezing back a wordless reply. Of course, it says.

<3

[alastorss]

Hi! I hope you're having a good day! I've been thinking, how would Alastor react to the reader casually saying stuff like "I like your laugh, it's nice," and "You voice is really soothing," out of the blue.

a/n: oh i loooooved writing this ^ ^ he would 100% be the type to try and hide that he actually likes the compliments but fail miserably. thank you and i hope you like this!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You'd like to say you know everything about Alastor, but that's far from the truth.

You know his mother's jambalaya recipe, sure, and that he takes his coffee black. You've memorized the intro of his morning broadcast, and learned the feeling of his chin propped on your shoulder.

There are pieces of Alastor you know like the back of your hand, but somehow you've never even scratched the surface of deciphering him. He was just like that, you suppose—an enigma wrapped in another mystery that would take a lifetime to unravel.

The only thing he liked more than his secrets was keeping them, after all.

And he especially enjoyed toying with you—dangling little tidbits of trivia about him in front of your face and snatching it away when you inevitably took the bait. He'd laugh about it, too, saying you were so adorable for trying.

For some time you had hypothesized that his ears were a good way of gauging his real thoughts about matters, but he was irritatingly good at controlling those as well. Not even the slightest twitch to give away his inner monologue.

"You are so annoying, you know that?" You once told him while brushing your teeth, words coming out muffled from your toothbrush. Minty foam gathered at your mouth while you glared at him through the reflection in the mirror.

He only laughed, as he always did, and propped his chin on your shoulder.

"How rude!" He chastised you playfully.

You leaned down to rinse your mouth. "I'm just saying," you muttered after standing tall again, "I wish I knew what was going through that head of yours sometimes."

Unsurprisingly, Alastor's expression was unreadable.

He opted to bite your cheek and walk away from the conversation after that, not bothering to enlighten you even slightly.

You watched him from across the bathroom, eyeing the way his shadow danced around him with a mind of its own before it disappeared into the darkness.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

His downfall began with a comment you made after you ended up falling asleep with your head on his shoulder.

He had been reading the latest article about the Vees to you out loud, practically singing his amusement with how terrible this column had painted out Vox to be. With fame came criticism, of course, and Alastor would happily sit there and criticize Vox all day if he could.

Your head hit his shoulder quick and he sighed, ears perking at the familiar sound of your slowing breaths. (He didn't bother waking you. It's not like he had much else to do at the time.)

"Your voice is so soothing," you shrugged when you finally awoke. "The static is like... comforting white noise for me, or something."

'Or something?' he wanted to ask.

He didn't, because he didn't really care for an explanation further than that. (He definitely didn't avoid prying because he felt something warm in his chest knowing you thought that way about him.)

It kept happening after that, as much as he wishes it didn't.

Little comments you slid into conversation so casually—tiny compliments and teases that drove him up the wall. They were softening him up, flattering him in dangerous ways.

The demon felt his sanity wearing thin with each passing day, making tremendous efforts to hide the way your slips made him warm.

He's sure he is about to crack. At any moment, his ears will flick or his cheeks will cherub with genuine joy because you can't keep your words to yourself. But he's done well for himself thus far, pat on the back, for not gratifying you.

He mentally groans when you join him at the bar, eyeing his drink. "It's the middle of the day," you point out.

"And you've come to scold me?" He tuts.

"I've come to join you, actually."

Alastor chuckles, voice missing it's usual static filter. He reaches over to pour you a glass when you smile at him.

"You have a nice laugh."

He nearly shatters the glass in his hands.

You snicker quietly, leaning over the bar to creep under his face which is scrunched up in concentration.

"What's wrong? I like your laugh, you should do it more!"

Taking a deep breath, the Radio Demon reaches over to pinch your nose. You yelp and jerk away from him, glaring.

"Flattery will get you nowhere~" he sings.

Your head tilts to the side in confusion. There's a smugness to your gaze that makes him feel like a trapped animal, and he realizes that you've known all along what you've done to him.

"Oh, but I think it does," you laugh, nodding to his shadow burned into the floor.

Its smile is uncharacteristically soft, missing all semblance of its usual fangs and sharp edges. Howling in embarrassment, the shadow dives away, abandoning its owner to confront you alone.

All this time, his shadow had been the one betraying him. Through all the times he had forced his ears to stay rigid, with all the effort to maintain his mask of indifference, you'd seen where he had overlooked.

His jaw clenches so hard he can feel his teeth grinding into each other. "You are perceptive, my dear."

"No," you giggle. "You're just bad at hiding how you feel. I think it's cute."

Alastor glowers at you, but his ears flop back and forth atop his head at your praise anyway.

~

taglist (i totally forgot i'm sorry!!): @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 (send and ask to be added!)

[tbaluver]

Can you write the guys reaction to having a baby girl as their first child? (I'm a sucker for papa's little princesses)

Thank you and your works are the best and comforting!

Papa's Little Princess- The Love And DeepSpace Men

synopsis: when your first child is a girl! genre: fluff fluff a/n: omg this was such a cute idea i wish they were real (╥﹏╥) and thank you so much! i hope my works can continuing being comforting for you and anybody else <3 i hope this was okay and that you enjoy this! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

His little star

A gentle father. He's the type to never yell at his daughter but he'll provide positive disciplining strategies with you.

He wants to be in every part of his daughter's life in any way he can. He wouldn't really know how to do his daughter's hair but he was willing to try ! He would watch you tie her hair, braid, and put many accessories in her hair and he would be confused on how you did all that. He tried looking up how to do her hair and his first time wasn't the best.....but after some practice with you, he would be a pro just like you!

Do NOT let these two bake together especially with the easy bake ovens. Nearly set the kitchen on fire attempting to make cookies for you. He couldn't say no to her when she wanted to cook or try baking with him. You don't know how but it ended up burnt or with the weirdest toppings ever and a broken easy bake oven.

Nap time is serious business with these two. They are not to be disturbed. She's either asleep on his chest or in his lap. Whenever you take walks and she gets too tired, he'll carry her around on his back. She'll rest her head on the crook of his neck while he holds onto her tightly.

She would have all the plushies, toys, and snacks she wants! He'll do his all to get her the plushies in the claw machine to make his little angel jump up and down in joy. She could never have enough

Loves to join her in her imaginative play whether she wants to be a princess or an astronaut. It makes playtime full of joy and adventure

Zayne:

You two would have the most polite, well mannered, and kindest daughter ever.

Loves to participate in playing house with her. He'll sit on the floor or the tiny chairs from the tea party set you gotten for her. He'll play the role with no complaints and tell her that the tea is delicious even though there is absolutely no tea in the plastic cup.

He's a doctor but he can't help but sneak a few sweet treats for her. If she wants some before lunch or dinner then she can have at least one before she eats her meal and then she'll have plenty more after. These two would have cavities later on.

He would make her all the mini snowmen and other things she wants from his evol. He finds her reaction to be adorable each time, it never gets old.

If your daughter mentions a boy, he would tell her she can have a boyfriend around 30. She would be happy and so was he. Mainly because she has no concept of time and age yet.

Your daughter loves to hear him read. Even though she was still very very young and didn't grasp everything just yet, he would read her stories and explain them with care and patience, aiming to entertain and nurture her curiosity. She loves to sit on his lap and sometimes she'll fall asleep on him.

He would let her pick any flower she wants to grow in your garden at the backyard. You would all start a small garden together and he would teach her how to care for them.

Rafayel:

Takes playing house a little too seriously. Whatever role his daughter gives him, he's giving it his all.

Oh he was so excited when your daughter first held a crayon. He colors with her a lot and eventually will introduce her to paint. He would tell her that she's doing so well even if they were just blobs. She's going to be an artist just like her papa. He'll even add some of her artwork on his so he can point it out to her if he were to have another exhibition tour.

First time at the beach with his daughter was such an emotional day for him. Hearing and seeing her squeal when her little feet touched the water warmed his heart. He held her so tightly and tenderly, reassuring her that she won't float away because her papa's got her. He teaches her a lot about how some fishes are friendly and one day he'll meet some of his fish friends.

He'll eventually tell her all about Lemuria whenever it was time for bed and he thought it's so cute whenever she wanted to hear more about it.

Would absolutely love to play dress up with her. Sometimes he'll pick some of her clothes out and he would think she is beautiful just like her mama. They'll make a little runway and model the outfits.

He would keep all the little milestones she has made and any memories. He'll keep all the photos, drawings, and any mementos to look back at the treasured memories.

Sylus:

The second person who will ever see his soft side is his daughter. You being the first.

He is protective over his daughter and with you. If anyone were to look at either one of you wrong? Sleep with one eye open.

He does not have fragile masculinity! He will let her apply as much toy makeup as she wants on his face. He'll play dress up with her as much as she wants no matter how obscure the outfits are! He has no complaints, anything to make his little angel smile and happy.

She loves hearing him sing lullabies. It puts her to sleep immediately but sometimes she'll sing or hum along with him.

If you tell your daughter no to something then she'll ask Sylus. He can't say no to his sweet baby girl. Just don't tell mom. He doesn't know what true fear is until he meets a mothers anger.

Loves to spoil her just like how he loves to spoil you. Not to the point where she's a brat though, you two would teach her to be better than that. "Just because" gifts to make her feel special without any special occasions

Anytime he would be away for business, he'll always bring you two something back. Something that you both either love or reminds him of you two or maybe both.

BONUS (All): They would all be patient fathers overall. They would never yell if your daughter showed any emotions especially if their daughters were to cry. They’re offering their own patience, love, and comfort in their own way. They would be there for your daughter emotionally as they were with you.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗦𝗟𝗘𝗘𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗜𝗗𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗥

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N wants to be impossibly close to Matt.

WARNING: Slightly smut, cockwarming.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Part 2

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N had an appreciation for all love languages, practicing each one individually with her favorite people, but it wasn't news to anyone that her favorite was physical touch. The girl loves to always be very close physically to the ones she loves, giving tight hugs and kisses on the cheek, valuing moments and people that allow her to act in such a way.

When Y/N fell in love with Matt, her love language was precisely what made her feelings for him apparent, her body always seeming to seek to be next to his, her hands lightly touching Matt's arms or legs as they interacted automatically, and that was exactly what encouraged Matt to take the first step.

After Y/N and Matt started dating and Matt stated many times that he loved the girl's way of showing her love for him, she felt comfortable enough to act however she wanted; Her body began to always look for his, now being able to sit on his lap on specific occasions, place her hand on his thigh or her arms around his waist, caressing the covered or, sometimes, exposed skin with her fingers.

Kisses became frequent, a quick peck on the cheek or forehead, simple pecks on the lips or a war of tongues. For Y/N, the closer, the better.

It is well known that physical touch between a couple increases the feeling of emotional well-being and even strengthens the bond, intimacy and connection, and for Y/N and Matt, it meant many things: love, passion, excitement and rest, too, a way to recharge their energy.

That's why, when Y/N finally entered her house after a long day of work, all she thought about doing was clinging to Matt. She reached blindly for the lock on the front door, placing her key there and locking it, before walking in the dark from her living room and down the long hallway, until she reached her bedroom, which she shared with her boyfriend.

The girl knocked twice on the door, before slowly opening it. Her face lit up when her eyes found Matt sitting at the computer desk located in the corner of the room, his headphones on top of his head, muffled melodies of some Dominic Fike song coming out, while his fingers blindly typed words, his blue eyes fixed on the screen where a Word document was open. Y/N assumed he was writing some video idea for the triplets' channel or his personal channel, which he hadn't appeared in a long time.

Y/N closed the door behind her carefully, not wanting to scare Matt with a loud noise, thanking in her mind that the lights in the room were low. The girl placed her bag on the floor before walking towards her boyfriend, lightly touching his arm to show that she was there, finally gaining the brunette's attention.

Matt lifted his head, lowering his headset automatically, his eyes focused on the girl's face, a big smile stretching across his own.

"Hi baby, I didn't hear you coming." The boy whispered, Y/N smiled back, wrapping her arms around Matt's shoulders and pulling him against her, wanting to be close. The boy wrapped his own arms around her waist, taking advantage of the position created by her, while he laid his head against her clothed belly, being able to close his eyes for a few seconds and rest his mind.

"I came in slowly, 'didn't want to scare you." Y/N whispered back, leaning down a little so she could kiss the top of Matt's head, her hand stroking the area gently, smiling as she heard a contented sigh escape her boyfriend's lips. "Have you showered yet?" She asked, the fresh scent of soap answering her question.

Matt shook his head positively, looking like he didn't want to move, his computer task already forgotten.

"Turn off the computer, sweetheart. I'm going to take a quick shower and then we can go to bed." Y/N asked in a low tone, kissing Matt's head once more before pulling away, laughing at the boy's grumbling.

Y/N walked to the bathroom, taking off her jacket and throwing it on a corner chair on the way, finally being able to undress completely when she reached the small room, throwing her clothes in the laundry basket before getting into the hot shower.

Her shower was quick, her anticipation of finally being able to lie down with her boyfriend getting the best of her, and before Y/N knew it, she was already finishing drying herself off. The girl hung her towel, now damp, in the proper space inside the bathroom before leaving, the cold wind from the room meeting her naked body, making her shiver. Y/N started walking to their closet, but stopped halfway, an idea popping into her head.

She turned around with an lazy smile, walking quickly towards the door, her hands stopping on the latch and turning the key, locking it, finally being able to go to her bed where Matt was already lying under the covers and shirtless, ready to sleep.

Y/N went to her own side of the bed, lifting the blanket and laying down in the cold space from the lack of human heat, grateful to see that Matt was only wearing boxers. The girl let out a low laugh when she saw Matt's confused expression as his blue eyes runned over her body.

"What are you planning, hm?" Matt asked, turning sideways and facing her, running his large, cold hand around his girlfriend's waist, making her shiver, pulling her close.

"I need to feel you as close as possible today." Y/N whispered, looking him in the eyes. Matt quickly understood, cockwarming was not a new thing in their relationship, having discovered that they both liked it when Matt didn't take his cock out of the girl after a rough session, afraid of hurting his girl because she was too sensitive, staying there for a few hours while they talked.

"Are you needy, my love?" Matt asked quietly, lowering his hand that was still on Y/N's body to her thigh, caressing the area, pulling her impossibly close, smiling when he saw the girl sigh and nod, lowering his face enough to capture her rosy lips with his.

Their kiss was simple, just a movement of lips, no tongue involved. Matt knew that if he deepened it, the situation would take a different turn, and he was too tired for that right now.

Y/N smiled in pleasure during the kiss, her hand resting on Matt's chest, loving the contrast between her cold hand and his warm chest.

Matt broke the kiss, sealing their lips one last time before pulling away, appreciating the closeness of their bodies. Y/N took her hands to Matt's boxers, questioning him with her gaze briefly and finally lowering the piece of clothing after receiving a nod from the brunette, who raised his hips slightly to help her with her action, removing the piece completely with his legs.

Y/N opened the drawer of her bedside table and took the lubricant, opening the package and pouring some into the palm of her hand, closing it before bringing her smeared hand to her boyfriend's semi-hard cock, pumping him a few times as she watched his expression, blue eyes closing briefly at the sensation.

When the girl thought she had spread enough, she turned her body, facing away from Matt and stretching so that she put the lubricant back in the drawer, closing it. Matt took the initiative and took his hand to Y/N's leg, caressing the skin and pulling it up, his free hand taking his cock and directing it towards the girl's intimacy, inserting the head of the member into her hole.

A soft, breathy sigh left Y/N's mouth, her eyes closing in sudden pleasure. She bit her bottom lip to keep any noise from escaping as Matt slid his entire length into her.

Once fully inside, the brunette lowered her still raised leg, his right arm passing under Y/N's head carefully while his left arm wrapped around her waist, burying his face in his girlfriend's neck, holding himself back from moaning.

Matt loved the feeling of being inside Y/N, along with the heat of the sticky walls that squeezed his cock so deliciously, pulling him deeper inside, if that was even possible. The girl tried her best not to move her hips, remaining still.

Matt ran his tongue between his lips, wetting them while he also controlled himself by pressing his chest against her back and pulling air through his nose, loving the smell of the body cream and soap that exuded from Y/N's bare skin.

His blue eyes closed, feeling warm and comfortable. The girl pulled the blanket higher, preventing the cold air from the room from reaching their bodies, delighting in the feeling of Matt inside her and the warm bed, finally being able to rest in peace.

[bottlehawk]

no sburb beta earth au where dave "microcelebrity" strider suddenly gains a big following on the internet after a spike of people discover his sbahj comics online when a screenshot of one goes particularly viral and turns into a [top text/bottom text] meme and some hipsters are like "woah,, this is actually some really avant garde stuff". when he's churning these out sitting in the bathroom stall at school once a day during lunch period. so then he gets REALLY popular and then inevitably gets cancelled at some point when a communications/poli sci major reads one of his comics and then types up a whole memo board explaining how sbahj is actually neo-conservative propaganda written as part of a conspiracy to undermine the 2008 obama presidency. and there's a whole rage war since the memo board was written really convincingly with red arrows and circles drawn around sweet bro's head and everything and dave hasn't made any public statements about it and also no one actually understands what sbahj is about. so threads are being written up about this and people are like emailing death threats to each other over it and someone even tries to doxx him and then manages to find out he lives in texas and some people start actually taking the whole thing seriously because He's From Texas (never mind the fact it's houston). meanwhile dave just started his midterms and he has to focus because he actually cares about school and his future and so he takes a short "hiatus" which people freak out even more over because they take it as him backing away due to the allegations online. and then after winter break dave comes back and opens up a q&a for his 169th "bro wee ar doign it wee ar making it hapen" special and at some point after a barrage of questions in his inbox (q: was "swety bro and hela jeff crassh on the freway" inspired by a real car accident you were in? a: i don't own a car / q: what job do you have in real life? a: unemployed but i pick up roadkill off the street sometimes / q: who did you vote for in the 2008 primaries a: i didn't) someone finally has the bright idea to ask "hey how old are you" and he replies "i'm 13" and all hell breaks loose.

[limethefirst]

Void Runners Pt. 1

pairings: Deadpool x Wolverine x teen!reader

warnings: contains heavy spoilers for Deadpool and Wolverine, swearing, blood, the normal deadpooly stuff

summary: Reader has been trapped in the void for a few months now, after getting into trouble with the TVA, when they suddenly stumble upon a Deadpool and a Wolverine.

Part 2

a/n: if this gets popular enough I might write a part two, I'm having Deadpool and Wolverine brainrot, also this is unedited so pls tell me if you see mistakes

It had been 4 months since you had been sent to the Void; the apocalyptic like plain, becoming what you had accepted as your new home.

You were a time traveler, that had accidently messed up some big event and that caused the TVA to come and take care of you. You weren't sure what the big event was, something about some saving some rich guys parents. You thought you were doing a good thing by it but apparently not.

Whatever it was, it didn't matter anymore, you were now stuck here. You'd been alone most of the time, sometimes seeing other people but you had learned quickly into your stay that these others were part of this group formed by Cassandra Nova, an insanely powerful woman who you never dared cross paths with.

Until unfortunately today.

Sadly you stumbled upon the wrong people at the wrong time. As you were walking through the dusty plains, you saw two men falling from the sky, thinking back on your heroic days you felt obligated to help out. That was not the best idea, you tried to go up to the men but instead they started arguing when a fight suddenly broke out between them. By the time the fight had ended you had blood all over your (as clean as they can be in the void) shoes.

"Augh, I just cleaned these too." Is what seemed to snap the men out of whatever had just happened.

"Oh my gosh! How long has the movie been out? Five days, and we are already getting reader inserts? Wow!" The man in the red mask said to no one in particular, "And what might your name be sunshine?"

"Uh Y/N, are you guys okay, you seem to be stabbed in a lot of places?" You answered a bit concerned after seeing two men almost tear each other apart.

"Oh this? Sorry, my partner here has weird kinks-" The strange man is cut off by the other seemingly older man punching him in the jaw. "See what I mean kiddo?"

"Enough Wade." The older man gruffed, his arms crossing as he shakes his head disapprovingly.

"Whatever you say sugar cube!" The man known as Wade looked back at you, "Oh you must be wondering who we are huh! Well this hairy beast of a man is the one and only Wolverine, and I am your friendly neighbor Deadpool!" Wolverine looked at you and sighed at the at his 'partners' antics.

From there things only went downhill, and that is how you were stuck with them being hauled off to Cassandra Nova's lair.

"Awee are we having a flashback already?!" Deadpool's annoying voice rang from in front of you. Currently you were stuck in a ball like cage with, Johnny Storm, Wolverine and Deadpool.

Johnny began to explain to the men where we were all headed, going over the basics of who were about to meet and the type of woman Cassandra was. You looked a bit ahead as you noticed you were already here.

As you guys had come to a stop you saw the others being throw out of the cage, you held up your chained hands to the man before they could throw you as well, "I got it, thanks" jumping out before you got tossed as well.

At the same time you got down you heard Deadpool's odd comment, "Huh, Paul Rudd finally aged." You turned down at the man slightly and gave him a quick look of confusion unsure what he was talking about; his partner seemingly unphased by the comment, most likely used to it.

Looking ahead ignoring the bickering next happening to your right, you saw what seemed to be a bald woman in the mouth of the giant skull. As the dust cleared you could see her get up from the wheelchair she was sitting on, "What was the point of the wheelchair.." You dully commented.

Deadpool adding on, "Oh ableism great, that's not gonna go over well with the Woke mob!"

You looked at your surroundings, no longer caring about the scene unfolding before you, Deadpool began to talk with Cassandra, somehow coming up on the topic of a coke, loving roommate.

After a bit more talking between the two you hear Deadpool slandering Cassandra, and then telling her it was all Johnny who said it. This brought back your attention just in time to see Johnny's skin ripped from his skeleton.

"Not my favorite Chris." Deadpool says, not having much remorse for the scene in front of him.

"You piece of shit you just got him fucking killed." Wolverine adds, pointing at the remains of Johnny.

"Awe I kinda liked him," You mumbled to yourself, as Wolverine looked at you with a look of discouragement on his face, almost as if saying not to get Deadpool started with this.

"Hey we are all grieving," Deadpool yells, "He doesn't know what he was doing to the budget." He mumbled the last part.

Cassandra ignored his words and walked past the group, "Shush, Alioth's hungry."

"There must be some kind of mistake," Deadpool started again, "Big yellow is an anchor being and I'm Marvel Jesus, MJ if you're nasty." Cassandra turned her head a little as you stood next to them listening to their story, not getting the chance to hear it earlier. "This may be hard to hear but there's another British villain, he's gonna destroy my universe and I'm gonna stop him."

"Oh honey you don't really strike me as the world saving type." Cassandra answered him, this seemed to upset the laidback man. You watched as he seemed to straighten himself up hearing that. "Did I hit a nerve?" She turns back, almost sarcastically.

"I didn't want it to come to this," Deadpool says, "Either you help us or my friend here is gonna sing the entire second act of Music Man with no warm up"

You look at him confused, "What the hell is that?"

"Where'd you get the chair?" Wolverine asks Cassandra as she walks back towards the skull.

She quickly answers, "Every once in a while we get a Charles here, never mind though, he didn't care to find me."

Deadpool leans back seemingly annoyed, "Ughh Gen Z and their trauma bragging!" He shoots you a quick glance, "Can't you just stuff it down and turn it into a cancer like the rest of us?"

"But I'm not like the rest of you, except maybe the Wolverine, now we could be truly terrifying together." A light smile graced Cassandra's face as she watches you guys.

You watch their exchange a little more before you notice the purple mist coming up behind you guys slowly getting closer. As you turn back around you see Wolverine getting dragged through the ground and Deadpool backing up.

"I am so not with them." You tell Cassandra hoping that doesn't happen to you.

"Oh yes they are." Deadpool fires back, making sure he isn't next. Unfortunately for him he was, you watched as Cassandra got behind him and put her fingers in his head.

She began to whisper something and within the next minute she let go. Deadpool shook his head and started rambling yet again, "You are so mean! I could taste your fingers! They taste like hate, and where in God's name is the intimacy coordinator?!"

"You're so lost Mr Wilson, long before you came here." Cassandra told him.

He took out his knife and held it up, "This is baby knife, she's gonna fuck you in the face now."

Cassandra looked at the knife at back at him, "If you're going to kill me it's going to take more then a little blade."

"How about six?" Before she could say anything else, Wolverine came up behind her and stabbed her with his claws.

"Holy shit" You said covering your mouth.

Before you could celebrate, Cassandra began laughing and fell from the claws, "This has been fun but the big guy needs to eat and the rent is due." She turned around walking away as a looming shadow of darkness rose above the skeleton you were in.

Before anyone had a chance to say anything people had scattered and Deadpool grabbed you and hoisted you up over his shoulder taking you towards the machine Wolverine was trying to fix for an escape.

You hadn't a second to say anything because the next thing you knew, you were being taken with them hopefully away from the giant monster.

[onichophora]

Oh god. My Tūī has learned some new sounds.

This Tūī that occupies the territory that includes my garden, I'm guessing he? I'm guessing young?, this is based on the over-the-top, huffy, aggro, drama he projects. He'll whip through the area like an angry, loud, and musical, little whirlwind, as ostentatiously as he can.

The "If nobody has my presence in the vicinity firmly in the front of their mind, if they aren't absolutely thinking about me, am I really holding my territory?" kinda attitude.

If I am in my garden doing my stuff, which sometimes includes putting a little bit of fruit out (for everybody actually), or refreshing the bath (again this is common property, everyone gets to have this), or pulling weeds, or any of the other dumb human things, and this guy comes along, he'll sit up in the peach tree, or on the dead pittosporum, or on the guttering, someplace high anyway ('cos he is scared of me), and he'll huff and puff, and clap his wings, or musically spit at me so that I will leave and he can have my his garden. But I often don't, at least fast enough for him and he'll roll his eyes and then fly off as loudly and dramatically as possible and make himself somebody-else's' problem.

My second guess that this guy is young is because, while he's got the general musically liquid burbling and whiffling of tūī down, he still adding stuff to his own song, you know, unique little touches that will impress the chicks and strike fear into his enemies.

So far this year he has really developed his scream.

The tūī has an alarm call, it's a kinda short shriek that they do a couple of times. It sounds a bit like a territorial call of a kingfisher. And there is a couple of resident kingfishers, so when I was always hearing screaming I thought it was them, but it was kinda off too, like too musical, and it was all the time. Like all the time. Ok, more like several times a day. I figured out it was this tūī as I saw him casually doing it, but it was driving me nuts cos I'd hear him and them it would sit in the back of my head, is that a tūī or a kingfisher? and because I'm a nerd like that it would annoy me.

But the screaming also annoyed me, it's an annoying sound. Its a sound made to get attention and it works on people too. Tūī also use it on raptors and stuff too, to harass them or express their displeasure of the raptor's or whatever's existence, and I guess also the communicate to other tūī that there is bad news around. Thing is he never straight out screams at me, or other people, he just screams in general.

Typing this out has made me think about how small my world is at the moment as I have beef with a bird. It just feels a bit targeted sometimes, as he knows I sometimes put the fruit and the water out, he's being a bit of a dick about it. The other birds don't give me this kinda shit. But sometimes I am that guy who posts to the local facebook community page complaining about the speakerboys every night.

Anyway, he's been working hard on a new project recently.

He has added argumentative seagulls to his repertoire.

And he has nailed it, pretty convincing.

Some sounds to help re-create my aural landscape...

Tūī scream

Normal Tūī stuff

Seagull sounds

[bouncybongfairy]

Hello! Could I request some dark smut with Lip? I can also be more specific if you'd like! No worries if you don't want to write it! Also I just found your blog and love your writing! 💕

Fucked Back Into Reality

Lip Gallagher x Fem Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend Lip, hadn't talked to you in a couple of days. After having several conversations about this reoccuring problem, you decied to give him the cold shoulder. He reminds you why doing this is a riskey game.

Word Count: 2.0k+

TW: Rough Smut, Brat Kink, Masocism.

Ref Account: @kaionyx

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It’s a bitterly cold day in Chicago’s south side. The type of cold where everyone at school is more concerned about staying warm than fashion. You were walking to school, both your parents left for work before you woke up. The school was too close to home for bus services so walking was really the only option. After trying to get in touch with Lip for the past two days, you were now on strike from being nice to him. You weren’t ignorant, Lip had a lot going on at home which meant his undivided attention was rare. Sometimes you wished he would just shoot you a text like: hey super busy day, love you / shits been crazy, talk to you when i can. Having this conversation in the past, you weren’t going to bother having it again. It surprised you to see Lip sitting on the front steps of the school; early which he never was. You started walking up the steps, he stood up and flicked his cigarette bud into the snow. 

“Hey,” he said, you just looked at him and kept walking to your locker. 

“Oh come one, you’re ignoring me?” he asked, leaning up against the mental lockers as you emptied your things into the locker. 

“Seems familiar doesn’t it,” you say, referencing him not reaching out for the past couple days. 

“Yeah but mine was accidental not bratty,” he chuckled. Maybe it was because you haven't eaten or smoked that morning but that comment enraged you. Slamming your locker and walking toward first period, leaving him in the hall. 

Just your luck to have chemistry as the first class of the day. The teacher took 20 minutes to calm the class down. Kids play fighting with each other or flirting in the back of the room. Groups of students in their cliques, not paying any mind to the instructions given. You felt bad for the teacher, I'm sure she thought an education career would help so many teens. Only to be placed in one of the most poorly funded schools in the state. You didn’t feel too bad though, it only meant less work for you. Lip liked the fact that you cared about your grades, that you had a plan after highschool. As stupid as Lip was acting, you also liked how smart he was. You complained about it alot but you liked how he didn’t fall for your little tricks and games. He doesn’t chase you, or let you push him over. Most guys were just so emotionally unintelligent, not to mention Lip was more mature when it came to sex. The last couple guys you were with didn’t even talk while you fucked. Didn’t know what foreplay was or understand a woman's body. Lip had a really good understanding of when to be gentle or rough. When he would whisper things in your ear it always felt so natural and smooth. There were times when your stomach would randomly flip when thinking about the nasty things he’d told or done to you. Maybe part of the reason you had some animosity towards Lip was because you had been sexually frustrated. For the past couple weeks you felt like you were practically throwing yourself at him and he wasn’t in the mood. Of course you respected that, you just missed him was all; maybe a specific part of him. At lunch he came up to you from behind and hugged you. Still feeling quite stubborn, you allowed it but acted like you didn’t care. 

“You still mad?” he whispers into your ear which makes your skin break out with goosebumps. He slides his hands down from your waist to your hips.

“I know we haven’t talked but I’m here now, let’s ditch for the rest of the day,” he said, pressing his lips against your neck. As much as you wanted to give in and agree, you still wanted to make a point. Pushing his hands away, you grab your backpack and walk away without acknowledging him. If he wanted to brand you as a brat then you’d give him his money's worth. 

It was the last period, and everyone was waiting for the bell to ring. Some kids just left when they were ready and the teacher didn’t care. He just sat there, staring with cold dead eyes at his computer. Daren was consistently trying his best to spark conversation with you, all he talked about was how he ran track but he was trying his best. The heaters were blasting inside the school because it was snowing. The classroom windows were wet with condensation which made you feel sticky. Becoming overstimulated you decide to leave early, excusing yourself and walking out. Daren followed you into the hallway, 

“Hey I was wondering if you wanted to stay after school and watch me practice? Maybe I can take you out after, or something?” he asks. 

“Oh sorry I can't. I actually have a ton of homework so, maybe next time?” you say walking away, happy that you’re avoiding the rush of people flooding out the front gates. 

Normally Lip would walk you home but you didn’t see him. Your willpower that was fueling your grudge was weakening. Pulling your phone out of your pocket and seeing if he texted you; he didn’t. Looking back you were feeling silly about your actions because look where they led you. It was really cold, snow sticking to your hair and eyelashes. Once you finally got home, Lip was waiting on the porch which took you by surprise. You went to greet him, this is when you noticed he looked angry. He didn’t even say anything to you, even after opening the door and letting the both of you in. 

“How’s Daren?” he asks, once you both get to your bedroom. 

“What?” you asked confused. 

“Well you talked to him all last period and even after you left,” he said, sitting on your bed and lighting a cig. 

“Okay first of all, I only talk to him for like two seconds. He asked me to watch him practice and I said no,” you defend yourself. 

“That’s two seconds more than you talked to me today,” he remarked. 

“Lip that’s not even fair,” you say, which made him smirk and shake his head as he took a drag. 

“Do you even hear yourself? ‘tHat’s nOt fAiR’ whining like a baby who didn’t get their way. Why were you so offended that I called you a brat even though you’re acting just like one,” he said.

“What are you trying to scare me?” you ask while laughing.

“Trying?” he asked rhetorically. 

You rolled your eyes and started to change into comfortable clothes. While you were only in your bra and underwear, Lip came behind you and ripped the lace material of the panties. You gasp and go to turn around but he presses you against the closet door. Intertwining his hand into your hair, gripping it so tight strands of hair were being pulled out. His dick was extremely hard and feeling it pressed against your ass immediately excited you. Moving your head slightly so he can start kissing and biting your neck. His breathing was hard and with his chest pressed against your back, you could feel his heartbeat. As he marked your neck, whimpers and moans were escaping your mouth. 

“Since you were feeling so brave today let’s hope you keep that energy,” he growled into your ear. 

“You gonna try and teach me a lesson?” you asked with a patronizing tone.

He chuckled and led you to the bed by your hair. Your heart was racing, your sexlife was by no means bland however, this was the first time he was this rough. It felt like the two of you were breaking the rules or something. Like discovering new and daunting territories. He reached his hand down and started feeling you through the hole in your panties he made. He let out a moan once he felt how wet you were. 

“You are such a fucking slut, good to know being put in your place is all it takes for you to soak your panties,” he said, letting go of your hair. 

He sat up onto his knees, instead of fully stripping his clothes, he just pulled his dick out of his zipper. Rubbing the tip against your pussy. Your chest was pressed against the mattress but your ass was pressed against his shaft. You start to rock your hips back and forth against him but he starts spanking his hands against your ass. The pain was so bad it burned, you thought he’d stop after a couple times but he kept going. Wanting to show you were handling the smacks, you try your best to take them without complaint. He was unrelenting and you finally begin to squirm away, which seemed to humor him,

“The more you fight and squirm, the more I wanna fuck you,” he said, running his nails down your now bright red ass. 

“Fuck just do it already then,” you whine, in response he spits at your face. 

“Cum slut’s don’t speak unless spoken to,” he said, pushing himself into your twitching and leaking pussy.

The feeling was enough to make your eyes roll back. After weeks of Lip blue-balling you, the sensation of being filled by him was pure bliss. He was going at a painfully slow rate, pulling himself fully in and out of you after every thrust. As pleasurable as it was, you’d do anything to get him to speed up. Unable to rock your own hips, you kick your feet a little in protest. This made him laugh and slow down even further. He grabbed your wrists and pressed them against your lower back, taking full control of your body. You were dripping down both thighs and tears pooled in your eyes. You were at your limit with his teasing, tightly clenching around him. He pulled out and flipped you onto your back, feeling too embarrassed to look him in the eye. Tears had stained your cheeks and your hair was in complete disarray from being yanked and pulled. He crawled on top of you and started pushing his tip in and out. You were bucking your hips up, tears coming back as he teased relentlessly. 

“You’re sensitive here? Perfect spot to abuse huh?” he asked sarcastically, using one hand to smack his cock against your pussy.

In your own little world, trying to cum with what little friction he was giving you. He finally stops and instead wraps his hands around your neck. Then starts pounding into you, slowly tightening his grip over time. You were feeling dizzy and foggy, letting out a moan every time his length fully pressed into you. He was grunting and groaning, a couple beads of sweat dropping onto the bed from how much he was exerting himself. The closer you got to your orgasm the tighter his grip on your throat became. Your face was bright red and a wheezing sound came out of your mouth with every inhale. He seemed to be hummored by this and started to mock you. 

“Can’t breathe? Good,” he chuckled. 

The mixture of degradation and the fast paced abuse on your cunt was enough to send you over the edge. Shockwaves of pure pleasure began to ripple throughout your body. Legs trembling and eyes rolling back. He was chasing his own climax, seeing and feeling you cum around his cock was enough for him. Rutting into you with no regard for you, as if you were nothing but a toy for him. Seeing how he turned you into such a slutty mess made him feel feral. It wasn’t until he was fully finished that he removed his hands from your neck. After a small coughing fit, you began to come too. Lip was already up, using his shirt to clean you up. Pulling your hair out of your face and into a messy bun. You were half dead, completely exhausted and worn down. He laid down next to you, rubbing your back and whispering affirmations into your ear. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to be as close to him as you could. 

“I’m glad I could fuck the attitude out of you,” he said, as you fell asleep.

[vgilantee]

simon "ghost" riley x reader

MINORS FUCK OFF. 18+ CONTENT.

warnings: afab reader, fem petnames, unprotected sex, piv sex, light choking, Simon calls the reader "little" because he is fuckin huge, simon is running his mouth, possible implied ghostsoap, reader isn't prepped enough

words: 1.0k

a/n: this is... i have no idea what the formatting is. it is what it is. most of this came from the shit i sent @glossysoap in her dm's today. also there are a couple of words that i purposefully had to not do australian so y'all would understand wtf i was saying lmao

not edited, thoughts left my brain and were typed. not my best work by far...

Sometimes when Simon was home, it was fun to poke the bear (though he thoroughly disagreed). It wasn't to be a brat, or to piss him off, just satiating some boredom and trying to get him to pull that cute little expression where his brows are pinched but he's trying not to smile.

You'd spent most of your Saturday pestering him: throwing balled up paper, poking him in the side, licking his arms when he was stood too close, just small annoying things. The final straw was when you pretended to be on the phone with a friend.

"Yeah no I'm not busy, just at my friend's place." That caught his attention. He stalks over to the sofa with a low growl, grabbing your phone off you and tossing it on to the other seat. Before you had time to react more than sitting up, suppressing a giggle, Simon had grabbed your ankles, dragging you to the edge of the sofa before he had you thrown over your shoulder, carting you off to the bedroom while groping at your ass and thighs.

He drops you onto the bed, quickly pinning you to the comforter.

"A friend couldn't fuck you like I do." The words were growled against your jaw, his hot breath causing goosebumps to rise across your skin.

Simon's hands quickly push under you shirt, making you shiver as his large hand glides across your stomach and breast.

"Gonna fuck that silly thought out ya head, love." Simon nipped at the skin of your throat before leaning back, staring darkly down at you. "Can't 'ave people thinkin' you're single, might try steal you away from me."

Pulling your shirt quickly over your head, Simon flipped you onto your stomach, unhooking your bra before running his blunt fingers down your spine.

"Simon." You whined out his name, shivering and pushing your ass back against his hips.

"Beggin' for your friend's cock, love? Desperate little thing." He tsk's at you, pulling your pants and underwear down over the swell of your ass in a quick motion. You helped him remove them completely, kicking them off and tossing them off the side of the bed with a kick, your bra following suit.

Behind you, Simon had pulled off his shirt and pants, rubbing his bulge through his boxers at the sight of you so hastily stripping. You dropped back down, presenting your ass to him while Simon nudges your thighs apart, settling himself between them.

He places a hand between your shoulder blades and pushes you down, forcing your chest to drop down to the mattress. You give a short exhale at the pressure, but the sound quickly turns to a breathed moan as Simon pushes two fingers into your cunt.

There is a pinch and a burn, but it quickly gives way as his fingers find that spongy spot just inside your hole and teases it. The precision and speed Simon works his fingers inside of you has you quickly whining and moaning, pleading with him to fuck you properly.

"Moaning like a whore for your friend? Begging your friend to full you up?" You blubber an apology at his words, the emphasis on the word friend, but Simon ignores you, instead working as quickly as possible to get you to come on his fingers.

You feel the coil tighten, the pressure building before you whine into the comforter, hips pushing back against his hand to try and take his fingers deeper.

Slowing his fingers, Simon helps you ride out your orgasm, leaning down to nip at the top of your ass with a smirk.

While you catch your breath, you hear a wet sound behind you, and shift to look over your shoulder, watching Simon as he sucks his fingers.

When he finally sinks his cock into you, Simon keeps talking, running his mouth while his keeps harshly meet yours.

"Clenching around a friend's cock, huh?" You whine, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts while Simon grabs at your ass cheeks to pull you back.

One arm snakes around your hips, hand resting on your mons and fingers rubbing at your clit, his other reaches up to your chest, grabbing at your jaw to have your back meet his chest, letting him mutter his filth directly into your burning ear.

"Maybe 've taken too long to put a ring on your finger, is that it? Haven't asked to make you m' wife so you're actin' up? Can fix tha', but first gotta remind you who you belong to." Your tongue lolls out of your mouth, panting as Simon's cock ruts against your cervix. The idea of marrying you seems to make it even harder for him to stop talking. “Gonna make an honest man outta me? be my pretty wife?" Simon grunts as your nails dig in to his forearm resting between your breasts. "Hell, can’t wait to fuck you as your husband. Mrs Riley, eh? Could cum just thinkin’ about you in a pretty white dress.”

You choke out a moan, clenching hard around Simon's cock at the thought of being his wife, but he nips at the side of your throat before tsk-ing.

“But ‘m just a friend, hm?” and you sob because not only does he emphasise friend with a cruel bite to your jaw, but his fingers move away from your clit. You whine, tears welling in your eyes as his pace slows too.

“‘f you let your friends fuck you like this I might have to keep you home.” as he groans into your ear and you shudder on his cock. “maybe should invite johnny ‘round, he’s a friend yeah? know he wants to feel your tight cunt, and if you let your friends bruise your cervix, he’s volunteering." Your head falls back against his shoulder as Simon picks up the pace again, a gasped moan pulled from your chest.

"Oh? I felt that, love. Wan' Johnny to fuck you?" Simon chuckles, the sound almost cruel. "Bet you'd make all sorts of pretty sounds split open on his cock." Simon lets go of your throat, letting you fall forward again, hips pushing back against his as his fingers return to your clit and his now free hand to grip your hip. "Talk 'bout tha' later. Gotta fuck y' good 'nd proper first. Be a good boyfriend, yeah."

bonus (because i'm price's whore): “hmm maybe let captain ‘ave a go. stretch you out all pretty on his cock. ‘s what friends do innit, love? yeah like the sound of that? sure john’ll take good care of your cunt”

terrible formatting but we move!

(moot tagging @patchmates-ad @xxshadowbabexx <3)

[ddiidi]

bf!Bangchan x gn!reader (ot8 mentioned)

Masterlist

When he calls you clingy, so you distance yourself

Pt. 1

Next Pt. 2

!Warnings: angst, fake!texts, swearing (lmk if i missed anything)

Side-Note: I tried something new, I hope y'all like it :3

You and Chan had been dating for good 3 years now and just a few days ago it had been your anniversary and if anything, the past 3 years had been the best years of your life. You guys met when you were put in charge for one of Straykids's album and since then, the two of you grew really close. Of course Chan was a busy person, but he mad time for you whenever he could and never got mad at you for anything. Not even your clingy and sometimes overcaring personality, which had been a big problem in your previous relationships, bothered him. Or so you thought.

You were currently in the Kitchen of your apartment to make yourself breakfast. Chan stayed over last night to which you decieded, it would be for the best to sleep a little longer, and stay longer at work, even though you've still got to pack your things since you'll be moving soon.

You opened the fridge to get out some blueberries and other stuff, when you saw the Lunch made for Chan sitting in it, untouched.

You frowned and took your phone out, to notify him that you'll stop by at the studio to drop it off.

You let out a sigh and put your phone in your bag. I should just get over and drop it off, you thought to yourself and made your way down the hallway, between some boxes you've packed, while waiting for a reply the past hour. You stepped out the door, greeted by the shivering cold winter air and made your way to the studio, with your bag in one and chan's lunch in the other hand.

By the time you arrived at the building, you were freezing cold, mentally cursing yourself for not taking the car. You stepped inside the building, greeted by your co-workers. You gretted them back, making your way to the studio, knocking on the door once. No respond. You knocked twice. Again no respond. You decied to just let yourself in.

When you stepped in the room, you find a busy chan, howering over his Laptop, aggressivly clicking on his keyboard.

"Hey Babe, I texted you earlier but you didn't respond..you forgot your Lunch at my apartment, so I thought I'll bring it over" you said, and put the lunch next to him on his desk, with a smile on your face, which immediately dropped, when he just ignored you. You decided to shrug it off and came behind his chair, resting your chin on his shoulder.

"What are you working on?" No respond. "Chris do you hear what I say?" you ask and stare at him, but he just continues typing on his Lapotop. "Chris-" "Jesus fucking Christ Y/n, can't you just leave me alone?!" He bursted out and turned to you in his chair "But I-" you try to explain, just to be interrupted by him again "DON'T YOU GET THE HINT?!?" he yells, and you instantly stiff "Obviously I'm hearing what you say I'M NOT FUCKING DEAF OKAY?! I'm just ignoring you because I'm trying to have some alone time and do my fucking work without you constantly breathing down my neck!! Can't I just have like 5 minutes of alone time without your clingy ass being right here, next to me, like always asking me stupid questions and breakthing down my neck!?? And your overly caring personality is really getting too much, ever thought I left the Lunch there on purpose??? Or that I don't have time to constantly check my phone because I actually have work to do?????? Get you clingyness under control and LEAVE. ME. ALONE."

You didn't know what to say. You didn't even know if you should say something. You've never seen him like that. He sounded really mad, and you couldn't help but tremble and blinking your eyes so no tears could escape, but they did and didn't get unnoticed by Chan. "And here comes the river.." he sighed out and rubbed the bridge of his nose. You sobbed your cries in and turned around to leave, only mumbling out a weak "I'm sorry..." before rushing out of the room, running towards the exist, when you bump into Felix.

"Um Y/n is everything okay?" he asks, genuily worried but you just smile at him and nod, before hurrying to get home.

You just wanted to stay in bed for the rest of the day, but you couldn't even do that because you had to pack you things.

It's so cruel.

Everything is so cruel.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙