#stop saying lice

[alexiroflife]

"megumi is annoyed with gojo for getting distracted with you and being late for everything because of it, so he makes it his life’s mission to ruin gojo’s chances of dating you..."

fluff, crack

gojo has a severe issue with constantly following you like a puppy dog wherever you go. after that day he had run into you on a whim at the park, your pretty (e/c) eyes locking with his as you both shared passing glances the moment your shoulders brushed, he was stuck to you. gojo stopped dead in his tracks, calling out to you and asking what your name was. you turned over your shoulder, stuttering to a stop upon realizing that handsome guy had been talking to you. you told him your name, that you attended the university down the block, and he was set.

gojo was sure to secure your number before you parted ways that day, approaching you as interested in friendship rather than someone completely enamored by your beauty and desperate to get to know you more. he would text you every day, from then on, pressing further about your hobbies and inserting himself into your daily routine, which you fortunately did not mind. the two of you end up spending a lot of time together, thoroughly enjoying each other’s presence.

megumi, ten years old, witnesses gojo’s clinginess with you fast because it quickly has an affect on how often gojo fulfills his responsibilities in looking after him. megumi remembers the first time gojo forgot about him because he was distracted by you. he had been meant to purchase and drop of megumi’s weekly groceries, but he ran into you at the supermarket and ended up helping you take your groceries home instead. megumi had to wait three hours for gojo to bring him his next week’s supply of food. things like this continued to happen the longer you to knew each other, but megumi knows it isn’t your fault that gojo is attached to you at the hip and flirts with you shamelessly but won’t muster up the courage to tell you he likes you. 

megumi’s last straw is when he is left stranded outside of his elementary school for forty-five minutes because he ran into you “eating at a cafe by yourself and you needed company.” the ten year old watches gojo pull up slowly with you in the passenger’s seat, waving at him apologetically with a kind smile. his blood boils as gojo smiles, shrugging bashfully and saying he lost track of time. megumi decides with a hastiness that he would ruin every chance gojo takes to flirt with you after the twenty one year old suddenly announces that he is driving twenty minutes opposite of his house to drop you off at your dorm. 

gojo first senses something is off when you are over at megumi’s house one day after school, looking for snacks in the cabinets. gojo and megumi are sitting at the kitchen island while megumi does his homework and gojo watches you move around with a soft smile on his lips, chin propped in his palm. you turn over your shoulder and ask the two if they have any chips, to which megumi beats gojo to answering: “gojo ate them all. he’s always eating everything in my house. i try to get him to stop, but i guess he just gets too hungry.” the white haired man slowly turns to face megumi as you carry on about your business, eyes wide and a mortified smile on his face. megumi doesn’t look at him, continuing his english homework. 

gojo knows he’s being targeted the second time around, when he suggests that you sleep over in his room because it is getting late and megumi advises you not to because he allegedly saw a nonexistent redhead leaving his room last night and is ‘worried about your exposure to lice.’ gojo chases the spikey haired kid around his living room later on after you inevitably go home, threatening to take him back to the zenin clan. 

the day megumi outright proposes that you get a boyfriend during a car ride over to your campus, gojo almost loses control of the steering wheel and decides he has to keep you as far away from megumi as possible. megumi gets his wish when gojo begins to pay more attention to the days he’s supposed to pick him up from school and separates his days with you from them accordingly, but megumi doesn’t plan to let this slide so easily. for weeks, he suffered the aftermath of gojo getting distracted by being your shadow, and for weeks gojo would suffer his karma.

when he hears you on the phone with him, megumi barges in the room and loudly asks to talk to you. you, overhearing, welcome the conversation gladly and ask gojo to hand over the phone while he glares animatedly at the boy’s blank face. he has to wait twenty minutes for megumi to finish talking monotonously about his day into the speaker, and by the time gojo gets his phone back, you have to head to a meeting with your classmates. the call ends and gojo ponders over why his kid is praying so intently over his downfall. 

and of course there are the days when you ask to come over to see gojo and megumi, and gojo is physically incapable of refusing quality time with you or telling you no in any regard. he practically begs megumi on his knees to behave five minutes before you arrive, to which the fushiguro blatantly ignores. the blue eyed sorcerer is fuming with rage as he sits across from you and megumi, watching as you help him with his science project after him asking for your assistance, a stunning, bubbly grin on your face. gojo’s initial frustrations shift into envy for your attention, and before you know it he’s pouting with his arms crossed in silence. 

megumi is satisfied with himself, concluding that gojo is officially fed up and has given up completely on pursuing you. he commends himself mutely for his successes after working so hard, though his actual enjoyment of your tranquil company made the experience more tolerable. he runs off to take a shower when you’re grabbing your belongings, preparing to uber back to your dorm. normally gojo pesters you about letting him drive you home when you’re over, so when he only flashes you a smile and holds the door for you as you walk through, you immediately think something is wrong.

the blue eyed man’s lips press together, eyes blank as he shakes and tells you everything is okay. your eyes slim in suspicion as you look over his face, unconvinced by his horrible lying skills. you ask again and he smiles again, telling you he is fine and to go enjoy the rest of your day without him. you furrow your brows in confusion before realizing that you had been busy with little megumi all day and hardly paid attention to your friend. he’s jealous. you giggle, and find it cute the way his half smile melts and he broods, perplexed by your laughter. 

you tease your friend of a few months, telling him that the next time you hang out, you two will spend the day alone. pink rises to gojo’s cheeks. “you still wanna spend time with me?” he asks and you scoff. “yeah, why wouldn’t i?” “i don’t know, i just thought megumi convinced you not to like me…”

you laugh again, the sound ringing like church bells in his ear. you tell him he’s ridiculous for getting worked up over a ten picking on him and puffs his lips and rolls his eyes. you know there is a mutual attraction shared between you and gojo. you’ve liked him since the second he asked for your number, but never said anything because he limited your relationship to what you assumed ws platonic flirting. now, watching him pout over the thought that megumi pushed you away makes you realize that there may be something real to his attachment to you.

a smug smile lifts to gojo’s face and his mood immediately improves. he tells you he’ll pick you up from your math class tomorrow for a ride, just the two of you. you hum in agreement and lean up to your tiptoes, holding the side of his face with your fingers and pressing a kiss to his cheekbone. “it's a date,” you say. you pull away and his expression is dopey, eyes dazed and grin bright. 

megumi runs back into the living room at the wrong time. he goes to grab his bookbag from the sofa and return it to his room when he catches a glimpse of the horror, his face scrunching in disgust as you peck gojo’s cheek at the front door. megumi turns grim, mourning over his failed plan. oh well, he tried. he wishes you luck dealing with that freak, and figures that the next time gojo annoys him, he can just save himself half the trouble and log him out of the shared netflix account.

you are halfway out the door, smile making your cheeks ache and heart bursting, when you hear megumi shouting from inside. “wash your mouth when you get home, (y/n)! you don’t know where he’s been!” you hear the front door slam and dramatic, muffled complaining follow as you walk to your uber stifling a laugh.

[zweigsons]

ride the cowboy

dodge mason x f!reader smut

summary: dodge has a really stupid rule about a hat that you'd never even seen him wear. but, it's not too big of a deal in the end

etc: nsfw, finger-fucking, unprotected piv

a/n: so like i might write a dodge x MALE reader soon bc apparently hes confirmed bi>??? and im tecnhnically a dude so like #perfect

word count: 1,993

“Why do you have a cowboy hat on your dashboard?” You asked with a snort, taking the cream colored hat off of the dash. You had asked Dodge to take you home after work, seeing as the motor in your windshield wipers had died in the middle of rain season. 

He glanced over at you briefly as he started his car. “Sometimes I need one. Just in case.” 

You giggled, “No one ever needs a cowboy hat.” You began to put it on your head before shooting him a skeptical glance, “You don’t have lice, do you?” 

He let out an offended scoff, reaching his hand over and playfully pushing your head. “No. I don’t have lice.” 

“Hmm, okay.” You placed the hat on your head. He gave you a funny look, but you dismissed it. “Does it suit me?” You asked with a giggle.

“Mhm, it does.” He chewed on his bottom lip as he drove, glancing at you every few moments. “You ever heard of the rule?”

“Shut up, what rule?” You asked, drawing your knees up to your chest. 

His smile quirked to the side and then he shook his head. “Nothing, nothing. Nevermind.” 

“No, tell me! You can’t keep getting away with being all dumb and mysterious.” 

“You think I’m mysterious?” 

“Did you hear me say dumb?”

He rolled his eyes, “I chose to ignore that.” 

“Dodge. What rule?” 

“Fine. Since you’re so insistent. Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.” 

You knit your brows together, “Ride the…?” Then it clicked. You grinned, “So you wanna fuck me?” 

He sucked on his teeth, “You put the hat on. Kinda sounds like you wanna fuck me.” 

“Shut up.” Then you paused, looking at him. “I mean… I do. I have for a while.” 

He coughed, pink from his cheeks to his ears. “Yeah? I can do that.” 

“I sure hope you can,” You muttered, fiddling with the brim of the hat. It was too large for you, and it tipped down, covering your eyes. 

“So… your place?” He asked, and you noticed how his fingers tapped nervously on the steering wheel. 

You hummed, “My mom’s at work, and my siblings are at an overnight camp. So, yeah. My place.” 

You had never seen someone drive so fast yet so carefully after you said that. 

He pulled into your driveway and you started to take the cowboy hat off of your head, but he stopped you. “It makes it hotter for me if you keep it on.” 

He had that stupid lilting smirk on his face so you knew it had to be a joke, but you kept it anyway. Even if it seemed to make a point of slipping down. 

The two of you rushed inside of your worn down little house and he kissed you as soon as you closed the door. You giggled, pushing him back. “Easy, cowboy.” 

“Yeah, cowgirl?” 

You grinned, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to kiss him again, soft and slow. The brim of the hat was pushed up as the two of you stumbled over to the couch. His hands were on your waist as you were perched prettily on top of him. 

His hands sifted under your shirt, calloused fingers tracing lines into your skin. He finally knocked the hat off as he pulled your shirt off, leaning up and beginning to gently kiss your chest. He made a point of leaving marks on the soft flesh of your breasts and you found yourself giggling. “Dodge. C’mon.” 

“Mmh, c’mon? What do you want me to do?” He asked it slyly, licking your collarbone. 

You shivered, “Shut up.” 

He nibbled at your neck, “Can’t. Tell me what you want, okay?” 

You throbbed in your underwear and readjusted your position on top of him. “I want you to fuck me.” 

“We’ve established that. Tell me how.” 

You pouted, “You’re so demanding.” You had to actually think about it for a second. Most of the fantasies about him that you’ve had were centered around his rough hands and a fast pace. You started to unbutton your jeans and then reached at the hem of his shirt. He was smart enough to take the hint and tugged his shirt off. Fuck, abs. Abs and arms and his neck and, actually, everything about him. “I want you to finger me. Make me cum on your fingers and then we can see about the whole ‘ride the cowboy’ thing.” 

His eyes widened and he grinned, “Anything you want.” He saw the look on your face when he said that and added, “I’m serious.” 

“Shut up. Get to work.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He layered on a fake southern accent and it made you giggle. 

He flipped you back and pulled your pants down your waist. You wouldn’t tell him this, but being out of your work pants almost felt better than the coming pleasure. His fingers gently skirted on your underwear and you fidgeted, impatient for him to touch you where you wanted it. 

“Dodge,” You whined, wiggling your hips again. 

He smirked, “Baby. Patience.” The way he slipped into the petname made you melt. 

You were about as patient as you could be, though. “Did I ask for you to take five million fucking years?” You asked, propping yourself up on your elbows. 

He looked like he was biting back a laugh. “No,” He admitted, fingers finally breaking the waistband. His fingers traveled further down, finally sliding over your pussy. You gasped, throwing your head back. “You’re so wet,” He murmured, two of his fingers teasing your entrance. It seemed like he was going to be stubborn with it. 

“Yeah, I am, Andrew. If you don’t hurry up and make me cum, I’m going to do something, like, evil.” 

“Evil? Like what,” He chuckled, his middle finger finally starting to poke into you. 

You groaned, his finger stretching you out more than your own ever could. “Like… cut your dick off… or something,” You found it hard to focus on what you were saying when his ring finger was joining the other inside of you and, God, it was better than anything you could’ve imagined. 

“That’s dark,” He pointed out, thick fingers sliding all the way inside of you. 

You let out a small squeak when he curled his fingers up and he grinned upon your reaction. “Good?” He asked softly.

You sighed, “Good. Would be better if you moved more, though.” 

“Bossy,” He muttered, even as he complied with your request. His fingers, curled up at that angle, began to move in and out of you. You gasped, hands flying up to dig your nails into his neck. 

The pace of his hand sped up and he leaned in, kissing your neck as he fucked you on his fingers. He changed the angle slightly and his thumb rubbed at your clit as he still managed to thrust his fingers. 

“Nnh, Dodge,” You whined, locking your legs around his. 

“Use your words,” He said, beginning to suck another hickey onto your chest. 

“Fuck you,” You panted out. Then, “I’m gonna cum.” 

You felt him grin against you, “Go ahead, honey.” His voice was so sweet and he curled his fingers again, at just the right angle, and you were coming undone. 

You panted shakily as he took his fingers out of you. Still coming down from your orgasm, you watched him lick his fingers clean. Your cunt throbbed at the sight and you thought about it–riding him. 

You pushed him back and told him, “Take your dick out.” 

He laughed, taking two of your fingers into his mouth and nibbling on them for a moment, “Did your mama not teach you manners?” 

“Nope,” You replied, fiddling with his belt buckle. 

“Lemme do it for you.” 

He unbuckled his belt and then undid his pants. You lifted your hips and wet your lips as he slid his pants down his legs. Another part of his body that was perfectly toned–you thought about grinding on his thighs briefly. Though, your attention was mainly focused on his cock. The erection tenting his boxers was one that made your mouth water a little. You thought of him filling you up and it made you twinge with want. 

You rested on his thighs and you smoothed your hands down his torso, stopping at the waistband of his boxers. You cheekily hooked a finger into the waistband, pulling it back and letting go, giggling as it snapped against his skin. “You’re such a little tease,” He said with a grin. 

“I try my hardest,” You said, tugging at the garment again. This time, he shifted his hips up and let you pull them off of him. 

You trailed a finger up the base of his cock and he whined. A whine is not a noise you’d attribute to Andrew Dodge Mason, yet here you were. You chuckled, wobbling up on your knees to position yourself over his cock. 

Your hands wrapped around his member as you lowered yourself down, and he watched you with bated breath. 

You shuddered as the head of his cock breached your hole. “Good girl, jus’ like that,” He mumbled, thumb rubbing over your hipbone. 

You practically purred at the praise as you continued to lower yourself onto him. He helped you, too. Strong hands pushing you down and it felt so fucking good. He had a bigger dick than anyone in this shit-town you had ever been with, and it was fucking clear he knew what he was doing with it. 

You were down to the hilt and you let out a short sigh. “Good job, pretty girl. You gonna make me feel good?” He asked, bringing his hand up to tilt your chin down. 

“Mm-hm,” You replied, leaning in and kissing him. 

You started to slowly grind your hips on him and he groaned into your mouth. You lifted your hips carefully and dropped them back down, pleasure wracking through your body as you did. 

“So good for me,” He mumbled against you, nipping your bottom lip. 

All you could manage was a soft keen as you continued to lift and drop your hips. Dodge started to move, too, thrusting his hips up to meet yours when you put yours back down. It created a perfect feeling of pleasure and you slumped over him, biting into his neck as you moved. 

It didn’t take long with this languid push and pull for you to feel close to release again, so you tapped him on the shoulder. That was all he needed, too. “Are you gonna cum?” He asked when you tapped him, nibbling your ear. 

“Nnh, yes,” You whined, fingernails leaving crescents in his back. 

“Okay, baby, okay. ‘M almost there,” He murmured, kissing your cheek before picking up the pace of his own thrusts. 

You let out something that was half-yelp and half-moan and you let him take control of fucking you. 

Your moans grew more frequent and almost panicked as you neared your second orgasm. Then, as he realized how close you were, he told you, “You can cum.” 

You hadn’t even noticed you were waiting for his permission until you were tightening up and letting your release wash over you. 

As soon as you came, he pulled out of you and with a few more strokes with his hand, his cum splattered onto your belly. 

You laughed and then kissed him again, slowly pushing him down and laying on his chest. “We should probably clean up before my mom gets home,” You told him as he placed a kiss into your hair. 

“Mm, probably.” He had no intention of moving. You knew that your mom wouldn’t be home for at least another two hours, so you saw no problem with it. You nipped at his collarbone and let the soft rise and fall of his chest lull you into something soothing. 

[halorvic]

August 20, 2024 @Imani_Barbarin

Transcript:

"Remember when disabled people were trying to warn everybody that the politicization of the CDC and the complete erosion of public health would impact everyone eventually? Well, news just came out that the CDC guidelines have been updated so that students with lice no longer need to be sent home early.

…......

Right?

The CDC is ACTIVELY weakening its guidelines on lice so that students with lice can remain in school. Now, why would they do that, right? 'Cause children missing school in a vacuum is not necessarily a bad thing, particularly when they're trying to prevent the spread of something like lice -- or COVID but hey, YOU all don't wanna talk about that anymore, right?

But it's because you all work and they don't want you staying home from work, so they'll expose your children to lice in order for you to stay in work, for you to make those ducats, right? For corporations and billionaires.

If this is something you can tolerate -- feel free, right? But these loosening guidelines don't just stop with lice. They are running down the list of things, so that it harms and impacts your children, your families and your communities, and disabled people have been saying this from the beginning -- that it won't just stop at COVID because disabled people are "disposable", but it'll impact every single thing.

And now, we have a rise in monkeypox, 'cause there's another variant going around, and that has a 10% fatality rate."

[evilvillain123456789]

Your daughter has lice so you shave her gross head, & on the back of her head you find a QR code, clearly not tattooed on (She was born with a full head of hair and never got it cut more than a trim until now, no opportunity for anyone to sneak a tattoo in) but clear as day, with crisp lines, no redness so clearly its been there for a while. So you take a photo of it and post it to facebook asking what that is what's going on why is it there and all your friends from church start messaging you directly, saying some pretty awful, out of character stuff. Warning you not to scan the fucking code. Dont scan the fucking code you god damned bastard. Do not. So you don't, cause you're scared. And you put her to sleep without telling her anything, with a head covered in mayo youre gonna wash out the next morning I know its thursday night but you know what, let's, lets get you a three day weekend. Okay? Okay daddy. Love you. Goodnight. Woken up at like 12 am by the sound of your door being smashed in, you see men in riot gear breaking your shit down, breaking all your shit, and you can't fucking stop them. Two of them are grabbing you. Grabbing you hard, holding you down but you can see more of them coming into your house. You see them go upstairs to your daughters bedroom, and drag her out as she screams but they cover her mouth and shes hitting and kicking them and biting their hands but theyre so armored and strong it doesnt even matter. It doesnt matter. And as you see this going down you try to scream but the men restraining you put a dirty cloth in your mouth and you start gagging, choking. And your eyes are bloodshot. Youre crying hot tears. And once you see them drag your daughter out the doors and load your her into a van the two men holding you nod at eachother, before one turns towards you and starts strangling you until you pass out while the other holds a finger to his ear and starts talking, but you can't hear, you cant read his lips...

& you wake up the next morning with your heart pounding, and a gross feeling in your mouth. And you immediately run up the stairs to see your daughter sleeping peacefully in her bed, still bald. Mayo on her head. Mayo smeared on her pillowcase from rolling over. So you rustle her awake. Hey sweetpea. Are you, are you feeling alright? How are you feeling. And she groans and asks if you were serious about not taking her to school today. All sleepy still... Yeah. I meant it.. Lets wash that mayo off.. Come on.. You lead her to the shower and start rinsing.. But there's no QR code. No QR code anywhere. You log onto facebook and check what you posted... Back-of-head pic of your bald daughter, no QR code. Check the comments, its your church friends. Ha! Did someone get lice? oh, that sounds terrible. praying for smooth recovery. Why is she bald? Why did you do this? Is this some kind of joke? Oh, lice. Tell her I send good luck.... All the people who messaged you yesterday. You check your messages. Wiped. Nothing.

Your front door is intact. The shit the men smashed is still there. There's no blood anywhere. You're not bruised. Did you just fucking imagine all that? You pace around but something close to the cieling catches your eye,

a smear of mayo

[90ekz]

ive head this nagging thought in the back of my head that satoru has some kinda random spot on his body that’ll make him instantly pop a bone. I DONT KNOW JUST WORK WITH ME HERE PLS 🙏 i love your works btw 😘

✧ sweet spot, ft. satoru gojo

✧ tags: mostly fluff, whiny satoru, ‘baby’ as a nickname, did i say mostly fluff already??, dry humping, overstim, loser satoru cs he’s mushy and in love

✧ an: this idea is now living in my head and not paying rent, thanks a lot anon :/

satoru usually just does his own hair care, and he’s very meticulous about it. he wants everything to be clean and pristine—not that you weren’t capable of doing that for him, he’s just very, very dramatic. he didn’t even know this spot was sensitive until… literally now.

he’s standing in the bathroom as you brush your teeth, absentmindedly rubbing his hand over his growing undercut. he figured it was time for him to cut it anyway, but his arms were very sore from some training he’d done with the kids yesterday.

“babe.”

“y’esh?” he chuckled at your mouthful of the minty paste, and just waited for you to finish brushing. when you finally did, you turned to face him as he brushed his thumb over the white pooling on the corner of your mouth.

“can you cut my hair today? ‘arms are so sore.” satoru whined, his finger still tracing your lip lazily.

“have you washed it? i don’t need your lice transferring to me—ouch! okay, okay, plug in the clippers!” you giggled as he pinched your lip. the clippers rested on his side of the sink, and he plugged them in wordlessly. you stood behind him, lightly brushing the area with the small brush you know is the most comfortable for him. satoru sighs lightly as you do this, and his shoulders relax.

he didn’t know exactly what it was, but your hands felt different than his. you made him so sensitive usually anyway, but this was weird. his cheeks were heating, and everything was tingling, not just his neck.

and then you did it.

the clippers worked in upward strokes as you trimmed the hair down, and suddenly your thumb brushed over some magical pressure point of his. satoru felt pleasure shoot down his spine like he never had before, and a almost girly squeak slipped out before he could stop it. your eyes go wide and you remove the clippers from his neck. satoru is deathly still, and you watched color bloom over his cheeks in the mirror.

“…you okay sato’?” the nickname drips off your tongue like honey—so effortless, so intimate, and he hates that you decided to use it right now. he can’t take it. you’ve never called him that, and he can hear the amused tilt in your voice.

satoru gulps, because he doesn’t know what to say. how does he say that he wants you to keep going, to keep brushing over that exact spot so he can pinpoint exactly what that feeling was just now? he’s never felt anything like that when he cut his own hair…

he settles on a weak little “i’m fine, baby,” because frankly? he doesn’t trust himself to say any other words right now.

you give him a little smile in the mirror before your hands start working again, and you finally start getting somewhere with actually cutting his damn hair. he doesn’t feel anything out of the ordinary happen anymore, and now he’s finally cleanly shaven again like he likes. you did an exceptional job, and satoru peppers you with kisses as a reward.

he mostly stops thinking about it after this.

yeah, maybe the thought lingers in the back of his head for a few hours after, and maybe he stands in the bathroom rubbing his thumb over the back of his neck for a little longer than considered normal, but it was fine.

except for when you call him down to finish watching the movie you’d started earlier, and he’s laying on your chest as you run your fingers through his hair. satoru isn’t even paying attention to what your hand is doing as he yaps about the plot of the film, and you listen.

“he’s a piece of shit! i mean, he stayed with his side piece on the plane, and made his wife drive in the snow? fuck mike ‘till it’s backwards.” satoru spits, his attention fully focused on the movie’s plot.

unlike you, who’s mind was still in the bathroom, cutting satoru’s hair.

you haven’t stopped thinking about the little noise he’d made as you’d accidentally pressed your finger over the nape of his neck, right where the hair started. he sounded so weak—so vulnerable, and you decided right then that you needed to hear much more of that.

your mind was now solely focused on one thing, and your hand was moving just as it was in the bathroom. you twirled your fingers around strands, until finally threading your fingers through his hair and giving a small tug. this tore a stuttered breath out of satoru, and you smiled. he’d gone a little more rigid against you, and his commentary had stopped as you payed so much attention to him. he was losing focus of the movie, too.

“b-babe,”

“hmm?” you hummed back, fingers now traveling from his hair to his lower neck, tracing small circles there. you knew what you were looking for, but why not tease a little first?

satoru couldn’t answer you if he tried—every word in his throat dies as you press down onto that spot once more, and he’s slamming his hand on-top of yours to make sure you don’t move it. he isn’t sure why he does that exactly, but why does it matter? why does anything matter when you’re touching him like this?

he can’t do this, just one press on his spot has his dick rising and stiff against your thigh, and even you can hardly believe it.

“sato.” you grip his hair to pull him off your chest, just enough to look at you. he whines from the mixture of the nickname and the sting of his scalp.

“b-baby, please.” satoru breathes. you know what he’s asking for, and you figured you’d done enough teasing for a while. you grin, rubbing your thumb back and forth over the pressure point back and forth, up and down, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he came just from this based on the sounds he was making. he hovers you, his arms barely holding his body up, and he’s heaving into your neck.

“breathe, satoru.”

“mmph—i will! i will, just please don’t stop,” satoru whines, his hips grinding down against your thigh. sure, this whole thing is embarrassing as hell, but he couldn’t help the cheeky grin that stretched across his face as you indulged him. as you ran your acrylics over the sensitive part of him, he dropped his head back into your shoulders, and his own started to shake violently.

he was laughing.

you were shocked by this, but you didn’t dare stop. at some point, you couldn’t help but snort a little as he grasped onto you. it was cute—the way his giggles melted into moans, the way he couldn’t control himself or his emotions in the moment. there were no coherent thoughts forming in his head except for fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

and you loved it that way.

[dont-touch-the-phlebotinum]

The first time Eddie calls Wayne 'Dad' he's three years old. He's been staying at Wayne's for a few days now; dropped off by his parents without warning and with the vague promise that they'd be back for him soon, already screaming at each other before they're back in the car and speeding off out of sight. Wayne doesn't even have a change of clothes for him, doesn't have any toys or books or much of an idea how to take care of a toddler. Luckily the kid seems happy enough getting into every nook and cranny of the trailer, and toddling around watching Wayne clean up in Eddie's wake like a particularly rambunctious shadow.

Right now he's sat on the kitchen floor, one of Wayne's baseball caps hanging off his tiny head, bashing happily at the array of pots and pans he's dragged out of the cupboards. It's one hell of a racket, but after three days of this either Wayne's headache can't get any worse or he's starting to get used to Hurricane Eddie. Besides, it's good to see the boy having fun, unbothered by whatever chaos has been going on at home.

The crashing comes to a sudden stop, silence ringing through the trailer, and Wayne looks over to see Eddie swaying in place, blinking like he's having a hard time keeping his eyes open. The boy's like a puppy, Wayne's learning. Either he's bouncing off the walls or he's asleep, not a whole lot of in-between.

"You tired, kid?"

"No," says Eddie, even as his head droops and a yawn near bigger than he is shakes its way through him.

"Uh-huh. Come on, Charlie Watts; let's get you to bed."

Eddie lets Wayne scoop him up into his arms with only a half-hearted whinge in response. He doesn't even have the energy to fight off Wayne's attempts to brush his teeth and scrub away the grime Eddie somehow manages to accumulate over the course of a day, already drifting off against Wayne's shoulder as he carries Eddie down the hall and tucks him into bed.

"Night, Eddie."

"Goodnight, Dad," Eddie murmurs as Wayne's about to turn off the light.

He freezes in place. The hell's he supposed to say to that? Your dad's not here, kid; God only knows when he's coming back? There's no need to upset the boy. But there'll be hell to pay if Wayne's brother comes back for Eddie only to find out he's taken to calling Wayne 'Dad' instead.

Luckily for Wayne, Eddie's fast asleep before he can figure out what to say for the best.

He presses a kiss to Eddie's mop of curls, and closes the door behind him.

.

Eddie's nine years old now. He's still short, still so skinny he looks like he hasn't had a decent meal in his life, close to bald 'cause the kid can't go two weeks without catching lice, but he seems happier these days than he has in a good long while. That's all that matters to Wayne.

It's his first birthday since Wayne officially became Eddie's guardian – probably the first birthday anyone's ever given a shit, considering the way Eddie's eyes turn to saucers when Wayne hands him his gift.

"Holy shit!" Eddie says as he opens the case and pulls the acoustic guitar from inside. It's not much, just a beaten up old thing Wayne bought off one of the guys at work, but Eddie clutches it reverently, pulls it into his lap like he's amazed he's being allowed to touch it.

"Watch your language," scolds Wayne. He doesn't have the heart to be stern, though. Not when Eddie's staring down at the guitar as if it's the greatest thing he's ever seen.

He watches with a smile as Eddie plucks tentatively at the strings. Maybe he'll come to regret giving Eddie a way to make even more noise than usual, but it might at least manage to hold his focus, maybe even keep him still for more than five minutes at a time.

And God knows, after the past couple years the kid deserves something special.

"You like it?"

"Yeah! Thanks, Dad." Eddie's head snaps up, and his grin falters as he looks over at Wayne sat beside him. "Uncle Wayne, I mean," he says quickly. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." He gives Eddie a gentle pat on the back. It's enough for the kid to brighten up again, his attention already back to his guitar, the moment forgotten. "Now how 'bout you take that to your room and start practicing while I fix us some breakfast?"

"Birthday pancakes?" says Eddie as he follows Wayne into the kitchen with a hopeful grin, still clutching the guitar against his chest.

"I don't remember promising birthday pancakes."

"I remember, old man."

"Who're you calling old, you little punk?" Wayne says, and shoos Eddie back out of the kitchen. "Go on, get out of here."

He watches Eddie bound down the hall to his bedroom, and after a moment the first clumsy notes fill the trailer.

 .

When Eddie's fourteen Wayne gets a call from the sheriff's office, and he arrives at the station to find Eddie cuffed to one of the desks, sullen and stubborn and looking too much like Wayne's brother for comfort. It's not the first time Eddie's landed himself in trouble, but it is the first time the cops have been involved.

He just prays it'll be the last. Wayne's seen this story play out enough times to know how it usually ends.

When he catches sight of Wayne waiting for him, Eddie just rolls his eyes.

"I 'spose you're about to tell me it was all Jeff's idea," says Wayne once they've piled back into the truck and put the police station firmly in the rear-view. He's not expecting an answer, doesn't expect Eddie to grunt more than a few words at a time to him lately, but the awkward silence is still too alien for him to let it sit.

"It was my idea."

"So you're stealing cars now, huh?" He keeps his tone light, as if they're just talking about Eddie's latest obsession, like always. As if his newfound hobby isn't breaking into cars over in Loch Nora.

"I wasn't gonna steal–" Eddie starts, before he's clamping his mouth shut like don't talk to cops extends to Wayne as well now. He glares back out of the window.

"You know next time it happens the sheriff ain't gonna be so lenient."

"Thanks for the lecture, Dad." Eddie lets out a bitter laugh that can't quite mask the hurt behind it. "Oh, wait a sec…"

Wayne sighs. The subject of Eddie's dad has come up enough times these past few months they're gonna have to have a good long talk about him sooner or later. "That what this is about?"

"No."

"But he's been on your mind, right?"

He glances over at Eddie. He's slumped even lower in his seat, arms folded tight across his skinny chest, and determinedly not making eye contact.

"Trust me, kid, he ain't anything worth looking up to."

"Yeah, well what if I'm a screw up just like he is?"

"You're not."

Eddie scoffs. Wayne watches him until the light up ahead turns green.

"The way I see it," he says, "your life's 'bout to fork in two different directions. You keep on down this road, you end up either dead or in a cell right next to your old man's."

Eddie's quiet beside him, but Wayne can tell he's listening, can see the little furrow to his brow as he turns the words over in his mind.

"Or, you take all that pain and anger you got inside you, and you turn it into something worthwhile."

Finally, Eddie looks back at him. "Like what?"

"Don't have to be big. Don't have to be important. All that matters is it means something to you."

They slip back into silence for the rest of the drive, but it's a more comfortable kind this time, a thoughtful kind of silence. Wayne kills the engine and they climb out onto the dirt in front of the trailer.

"Uncle Wayne?" says Eddie, his voice small. He's still lingering by the truck when Wayne peers back at him.

"Yeah?"

"Sorry," he says. "For being an asshole."

"You're not an asshole, Ed. And you ain't about to turn into one. Not on my watch."

Eddie's mouth twitches. It's not a smile, but it isn't far off. "Promise?"

"Yeah, kid. I promise," says Wayne with a smile of his own, and he curls an arm around Eddie's shoulders, hugging him tight as he steers them inside.

 .

At nineteen, Eddie's lying in a hospital bed.

Wayne's been sat at his bedside for God only knows how long at this point – the days have blurred into a steady stream of doctors and beeping machines, hours and minutes fallen to the wayside. The only time he leaves Eddie's side is when Eddie's friends come by to keep their own vigil.

They're all still waiting for him to wake up.

One hand clasping Eddie's, Wayne reads the paper to him to pass the time. He knows Eddie doesn't much care about what's happening out in the real world, and nor does Wayne right now, but any books of Eddie's are lost in whatever mess the quake left of their trailer, and Wayne needs something to keep his eyes from the angry red bruises circling Eddie's neck.

He looks like he's been strung up. The way the town has been baying for Eddie's blood, it wouldn't be much surprise. The rest of his injuries, though – well, no-one seems to have any explanation for those.

Maybe one day Eddie will be able to provide one himself.

There's a tiny noise above him, and Wayne's head snaps up to Eddie's face. He's watched every flutter of Eddie's eyelids, every twitch of his fingers, heart in his throat until the moment passes and Eddie sleeps on. But this time, Eddie stirs.

"Eddie?"

"Dad?"

He frowns with the effort of cracking his eyes open, struggling under the weight of his own body.

"It's all right," Wayne says. He brushes his thumb over Eddie's cheek, careful to avoid the stitches, and squeezes the hand tucked in his tighter. Eddie grips him back. "I'm right here."

Eddie's bleary eyes focus on Wayne, crinkling at the corners with the smile that spreads across his face. "Dad," he rasps again as tears spill down his cheeks.

Wayne's face is wet with his own as he presses a kiss to Eddie's forehead. "Welcome back, son."

[whileyoureinschoolidothisallday]

OKAY it has been a day of being sad and panicky. Time to move.

Yesterday, I made a post detailing the cdc announcement that there will no longer be an isolation requirement for covid. If you are one of the thousands of people rightfully raging in my notes, here's some steps to focus on.

We're not gonna give up. I've seen quite a few comments with things like 'what's the point', 'why should I even try anymore' etc etc and what we're not gonna do is give them what they want! It helps the eugenics cause to be apathetic and listless. We've made it this far, we will continue to make it. I know it's hard, but I am at least right here with you. Give yourself whatever time you need to grieve, and then I need you to get up.

If you have stopped masking for any reason, or you haven't upgraded to a respirator style mask, now is the time to change or start. From now on, we will be living in a country where you could assume there are multiple covid positive people in the room with you at all times. Surgical masks will not handle that load, and cloth masks will be even less effective at that point. Obviously, this is an unprecedented situation we're putting these masks in, and I'm not gonna sit here and pretend to be an expert that can tell you with certainty that even respirators will hold up with this amount of viral load for a long period of time, but it's the best and strongest tool we have. I'm considering using my p100 more, so that's always something to consider as well (and they make you look like a cool raver when you wear them!!!). You can buy all sorts of masks here, there's more links in the comments of my original post, and most states have their own mask blocs. To find them, go to Instagram and type "[your state] mask bloc". Here is a google doc of verified advocacy groups and mask blocs all across the country here is a diy fit test kit you can buy for $30 (unfortunately they are sold out right now. shocker.) PLEASE remember to take a layered response in these times. Masks are not the only tool in our arsenal. PLEASE for the love of God keep up with your vaccinations. Make a corsi-rosenthal box or buy a high quality air purifier if you can afford it--at the very least our homes can be safe havens (you can even put a hepa filter on your furnace!!!! And in your car too!!!!!). Use CPC Mouthwash, nasal irrigation, and nasal sprays like this one. Make it a routine: you come home, you shower, you brush your teeth, you rinse your nose, you change your clothes. And, like I said in another one of my posts, DO NOT TAKE OFF THE MASK.

3. If you would like an outlet for your rage and you're into calling your reps, feel free to calmly but firmly let the cdc have it at these numbers!!!!!

[alt text: a tweet by user silly_paulie that reads:

"Disdain for the CDC unites us all. Call today and demand isolation policies be returned to 10 days, and reducing it further to 1 day would be criminally dangerous. Call both:

404-639-7000 (press 8)

800-232-4636"

end text.]

4. If you need more outlets for your rage, I STRONGLY encourage you to get involved with your local union. Moreso than calling the CDC, tbh. I've seen multiple comments telling people just to lie about your symptoms to get more sick time off, but since there's no legal precedent to allow employees sick time for covid, all that's gonna do is get people fired. I truly believe in my lefty heart that the ONLY way we're getting anything close to mitigation is through labor rights. Even the standard for the fucking flu is 3 days, and that's nowhere near as contagious or disabling as covid. I say this as a high risk person with a neuromuscular disability: covid is an intersectional issue, but where we have the most leverage to get what we need is through labor rights.

It is NOT safe for workers to be working while ill with a Level 3 Biohazard (same as TB and the FUCKING PLAGUE. Seriously we have more regulations around fucking lice)

It is NOT safe to willfully EXPOSE your employees to a Level 3 Biohazard

It is NECESSARY for all employees to be allowed up to 10 days to recover fully from Covid-19, in order to avoid possible further injury from or hospitalization

You will NOT die or be disabled for the sake of the wealthy!!!!!

(and while you're at it, ask for better air filtration too!!!! At least 5 air changes an hour, MERV-13 air filters!! Then we won't have to constantly worry about virus bs and policy changes in the first place!!!!)

5. Closing statements. Nothing has changed with covid, this is just policy. Covid still isn't magic, she still has to get in you before she can do damage--mask up, arm your home with clean air, and don't let her. It's always worse toward the end. This is not the time to give up, it's time to dig in your heels and get to work. There are so many good things happening with covid. They are finding encouraging treatments for long covid. Finally, after years of nothing, a new prophylactic for the high risk was submitted for emergency use to the FDA, and it looks like this time it's built to last against new mutations. Covid is here to stay for the rest of our lives, but the real science hasn't given up on taking the worst of its teeth out. We WILL get to the point where the extreme fear of catching covid is nothing but a bad memory for EVERYONE. All I need you to do is commit to the belief that you're gonna survive long enough to be in that moment with the rest of us.

Now stay safe, and give em hell!!!!!

[covid-safer-hotties]

It would be so cool if their focus on keeping kids in classrooms involved keeping the kids healthy enough to be there. Maybe improve classroom ventilation so that kids won't be sick as often. But no, keeping kids in classrooms to them just means keeping them in classrooms even if they're contagious (and too sick to learn). It's very upsetting 😡

Children must be forced into close contact at underfunded schools no matter the cost to their health! This is the rule of law!

The number of people who've been in my notes saying that the productivity of literal children is more important than stopping the spread of illness (and falsely claiming that lice don't carry any diseases, like.... what?) is honestly astounding to me. Why do we even have a society if literal five-year-olds and their parents can't have one or three sick days to deal with lice so that no one else gets it?

Aren't they tired of being complacent and docile? What will make them want to go apeshit if not the complete dismantling of public health?

[mwalani]

Going to a spooky house with them is like...

★notes -> hi, random scenario time, enjoy it!

★warnings -> those amusement park spooky houses, teasing

[♡] Oliver

Being teased all the time because he's not scared at all, while you're shaking in fear and jumping scared from every single "monster" that jumps at you. Oliver laughs at you all the time while complaining about the fact that those monsters and creatures are so fake and ugly and just unreal.

[♡] Zip

Asking to be teased by her, as she is always laughing non-stop at those so called monsters and how you seem to be so scared of them. Zip cannot keep a straight face whenever she pushes you to get a closer look at the "creature" just to run back almost crying from fear.

[♡] ∆lice

Going with a bodyguard, that threatens anyone or anything who scares you, no caring if it's alive or just an object. Alice is going to be on the front as you're clinging on her arm from fear of those things as she glares at each one of them, holding herself back from destroying everything.

[♡] Engel

Having those really sweet friends/boyfriends who let you cling to them as they try to comfort you saying that it's not real. Engel walks with you behind him as he keeps activating the jumpscares, trying to not get you scared of those things.

[♡] Claire

Those two friends/partners in horror movies who are hugging each other, scared from any sound or shadow that they are aware of. Claire is mostly going to be scared with you, but she would try to be more brave and help you out even if it means facing her fears.

[♡] Abbie

Having to either get the courage to walk in front of him, or just cry with him as you both walk around the house. Abbie is not really the bravest, and he doesn't even know why he came here, but he probably regretted it the moment he entered the house as you two ran away from everything.

[dhampling]

sun astarion x reader drabble

Granted, only for a few hours; until morning at most - but there’s a genuine relief when your compatriots want to scatter across the town and leave you be. 

All except for him. 

-

wc: 600+

Blistering.

Eyes closed, toes outstretched - free from the confines of all leather and the tough of a sole long-battered - heels heavy in the fresh grass, the new soil. 

There’s a moment where all the air carries is far-off laughter and the smell of woodsmoke. 

You can’t say you’ve ever spent much time in Rivington - if any, at all. It’s charming in some lice-ridden rickety fashion, akin to other small towns you’ve travelled through in your time; and in prime position under the sun it simply bakes. Smoulders. Dirt paths trodden with clouds of pale puff, shoes laced with thick dry creases of dust. Warm ash on the waning breeze. 

The birds chirp in a dot-smatter overhead. Sky blue and vast and baking in the swell of the midday heat.

And it’s here you decide you’ll stay.

Granted, only for a few hours; until morning at most - but there’s a genuine relief when your compatriots want to scatter across the town and leave you be. 

All except for him. 

His first few tenday spells of day in two hundred years and he understandably basks in it. Pallid, occasionally wounded by the tender curse of long sun-reddened flesh for some small while before the skin heals over and his whinging stops. Forearm over forehead, eyes half-squinting; the gentle cant of his head toward yours on the lolling hill.

Astarion is quiet. It’s understandable. In a few long nights once reaching the Gate, he may have to relinquish his freedom once more. Give himself to the shadows, to the endless night; some awful routine of the moon rising as the stars sparkle overhead and the memory of every ounce of self-control leaving his corpse for the hunt. 

Granted, his centuries of plight will no longer be a problem. You’ll die if it ensures he’s free. Unspoken but he’s safe in the knowledge you won’t leave him behind. You won’t forget his struggle. You hold every ounce of his deliverance in safe hands and you’ve proven yourself time and time again to be in his corner.

“I’ll come with you, you know.”

A soft whispering into the sun; and you feel him shift to turn his head fully to you, still squinting; heat radiating from softened cheeks and lashes fluttering at the high of his cheek.

“Hm?”

“If you want me to. Whatever happens next.”

He offers some noncommittal hum and blinks slowly, wriggling a little to lay on his side with arms outstretched toward you.

“Come to me, lover. Please.”

You shuffle closer and rest a head on the hot skin of his inner arm, lips dipping to kiss your head.

“I mean it, Astarion.”

“I know. I do.”

A sleep-heavy sigh of contentment as he holds you still.  

“A house. Here. Thoughts?”

You wrinkle your nose.

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“I can’t see you settling here.”

“I could definitely settle here, if I wanted to. Little house. Little... pets.” 

His fingers flutter on the peachy low of your cheek. You groan.

“You’ve got a lot of life to live. Rivington shouldn’t factor into that, love.”

“Oh, I know. I’m familiar. However, it has a certain charm by day that I’d never seen before now. Cobble all… warm, underfoot. It’s nice.”

You grin.

“You’re the pet. A fat housecat.”

“I’m not fat.”

“No, but if you keep feeding on me the way you are doing, then that will change.”

He taps you playfully then pauses, before softly nuzzling his face deeper into the warmth of your hair. 

“That or the wine, I suppose. I’m a creature of comfort.”

“You’re a creature. Full stop.”

-

[lovelettersforthedamned]

Congrats on reaching 4000 followers!!! 🥳

Can I request "so tell me, what do you feel for me?" "you know the answer. you know it all." "i want to hear you say it." with Steven Grant? ❤ it could be end with smut if you're comfortable with it 🤭

Same Tradition, Different Approach

✮ steven grant x afab!reader

✮ word count: 1.4k

✮ summary: a late night confession opens both you and steven's hearts (and your legs).

✮ warnings: fluff, smut, language, mention of food, mentions of anxiety, kisses, hair pulling, oral (f! receiving), cunnilingus, MINORS DNI, 18+.

minors if you keep reading i will manifest you having lice :)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

main masterlist ⋆ moon knight masterlist ⋆ four-hundred follower bash

gif by @magnusedom Every Friday night, you and Steven meet at his apartment for movie night. You guys have kept this tradition every week for the past few years that you’ve been friends. Laying in his bed, you both stare at the laptop screen, a comfortable silence falling upon you two. 

With the final scenes playing, you sit up and stretch. “That was good,” you look towards Steven, still lying comfortably under the blankets, “a little slow, but good.” He nods his head in response as you fold up your laptop, tossing it aside, and giving him your full attention. “I brought vegan cookie dough if you’re up to baking. I’m craving something sweet,” you begin to rise from the mattress, but Steven’s abnormal silence stops you in your tracks. 

Steven’s ability to constantly talk about anything was one of the things you loved about him, along with many other things, so his lack of words shocked you. You say his name, and it finally catches his attention, “You okay?” 

His eyes linger on yours for a second too long, and he quickly diverts them before responding. “Y–Yeah,” he clears his throat before sitting up, the blankets pooling on his lap, “just some things on my mind, love.” 

Your head tilts at his confession. Steven always had a nervous habit when dealing with tricky things, so when you see this, you’re puzzled. Your eyes dart to his constantly moving hands then back to his eyes. You reach a hand towards his anxious ones, placing yours there to ease his mind, “We can talk about it. Only if you want to, of course.” 

“It’s complicated, and I don’t want to bother you,” his demeanor visibly relaxes at the feeling of your touch. 

You let out a breathy laugh, “You never bother me, Steven, you know that.” Your thumb has started to rub the back of his hand, each movement making his heart flutter. 

“Just,” he starts before stopping, trying to find the right words, “don’t let what I say ruin our friendship. I value too much, and if I happen to fuck this up then stop me right now.” Your heart was racing at each word that Steven was rambling over. He was a nervous mess in front of you, and you could tell he was scaring himself. You kept quiet to see if he would continue, but when he remained flustered, you decided to jump the gun. Grabbing the sides of his face, you pulled him in for a kiss. 

Nerves racked your brain until he kissed back. His hands, previously folded over each other on his lap, are now at the sides of your waist, pulling you in closer. There’s a fit of passion between the two of you. All these years of unspoken love have finally escaped, and you couldn’t be more relieved. 

You try to pull away, but Steven keeps you in his touch with one of his hands coming to the side of your neck. His other hand makes its way down to the meat of your hip, squeezing it. You gasp at his actions, pulling away to look at him with a smile on your face. Steven’s face is bright red, his gaze focusing on your lips until you grab his chin, forcing him to look up at you, “So tell me, what do you feel for me?”

He’s already leaning in for another kiss, his body needs you. You lean back, forcing him to chase your lips before he responds, knowing that you won’t let him touch you unless he answers your question, “You know the answer, darling. You know it all.” 

He thought you were satisfied until you shook your head, still holding his chin as you leaned in as close as possible. Still not connecting your lips, you whisper, “I want to hear you say it, Steven.” 

You’re teasing him, and he knows it. “I love you.” he starts before taking a deep breath and looking into your eyes. “I love every part of you, and I can’t handle another second without your touch now that I’ve finally got it. So, please…Please let me kiss you, love.” 

The grin on your face widens before you close the gap between you and Steven. He moans into the kiss as if you’re the sweetest fruit he’s sunk his teeth in. The sound of his pleasure sends waves straight to your core, a feeling of desperation grows as the kiss progresses. 

“Lay down,” Steven mutters into your lips. Leaning back to fall onto the mattress, your lips never leave his. His arms cage you in as he hovers over your body, his lips moving to your neck. His lips suck on the supple skin right under your ear, eliciting a moan from you. Your hands immediately weave themselves in his hair. Lifting his head he says your name, catching your attention, “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

Not another second goes by before you nod your head, eager to see what happens next. His arms slide down your torso, his fingers catching on the hem of your pants and hooking under your panties in one swift motion. You open your legs for Steven, and he wastes no time placing himself between them. 

He first places delicate kisses on each thigh. Each one is higher than the last, and each one causes a shiver to run up your spine. The anticipation was killing you, “Steven, please stop teasing.” 

He nips at the skin before licking it and placing his head on your thigh, looking up at you with innocent eyes, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, love.” You whine in response, and he laughs. “Hey,” he finally comes face to face with your aching pussy, “I had to get back at you for teasing me. Now we’re even.” 

You start to talk back before you’re cut off by Steven’s warm mouth on you. He doesn’t waste any time before diving his tongue deep into you, a gasp of surprise echoes throughout the small apartment. He’s lapping at your juices, the taste makes him moan into your clit. “Fuck, Steven…,” you moan, your hands gripping at the sheets beside you. You’re not sure where he learned how to do this, but that’s honestly the last thing on your mind, especially when he keeps sucking on your clit. 

Steven can see how hard you’re gripping the sheets, and even though you two are touching, he misses your touch. He removes one of his hands off of your thighs and reaches for yours. You’re still a moaning mess when Steven intertwines your fingers, but you notice his actions, as you always have. 

He can’t get enough of you, and when you cum into his mouth, he stays there, making sure to get every single drop. “Steven–fuck,” you giggle at his eagerness to keep going, but you’re too overstimulated to keep going. With your free hand, you hold the side of his head before gently pulling him off of you. 

His lips and chin are glistening from your slick, and he has a shit-eating grin on his face. You couldn’t get enough of the sight in front of you. Sitting up, you pull Steven up for a kiss. The taste of you on his lips makes you whine. 

Reaching towards Steven’s cock, you pull away when you feel a wet spot and a soft cock in his pants. You look back up at him, his face bright red from embarrassment, “Shit. I’m sorry, love. That’s pathetic of me.”

“Hey,” you give him a small peck, “I think it’s kind of hot actually.” You smile at him before standing and walking towards the bathroom. You look over your shoulder to see Steven, still on the bed, admiring your half-naked form. You tease, “Do you want to join me in the shower, or are you going to keep staring at me?”

He perks up at the suggestion and immediately joins you. 

Your movie nights will continue to be a tradition, but now, a few kisses in between each scene won’t hurt. 

✮ author's note: EEEK STEVEN GRANT!!! i love this man so much it's unreal. thank you for requesting this and participating in my bash, @steven-grants-world !! if you guys want to join, click on the link at the top of this fic. don't forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed!! ok, bye ily 🫶

[mirouie]

miles morales headcanons please with a reader who has anxiety and has panic attacks ?

୨ৎ 'don't you worry your pretty little head over it, dear!'

miles morales x anxious!gn!reader | wc: 0.8k

↳ warnings: mentions of anxiety, mentions of panic attacks, one mention of throwing up and lice(?)

↳ tags: fluff, slight hurt/comfort, soft miles, caring miles, established relationship

↳ a/n: hi, thank you so much for requesting! i based most of these off of my anxiety and the kind of attacks i have and i'm well aware that not everyone experiences the same thing, so i'm sorry if it's not what you had in mind, but thank you for requesting anyway! i hope you enjoy this one! <3

— first and foremost, miles is gentle. so, so gentle it makes your heart ache and make you feel warm all over.

miles is the type of person with whom you just feel so comfortable with. his presence is light, easygoing, and it makes him trustworthy.

earlier on in your relationship, you tell him about your anxiety. something you’d usually avoid when stepping into new, more intimate territory with your friends, but miles is just that person. it doesn’t feel burdensome when you tell him; in fact, it makes you feel almost relieved.

he’s nothing short of kind and caring when he knows. he’s genuine in all of the gentle questions he asks you, making notes upon notes mentally in order to prepare himself for future bouts. when he’s alone, he does more research into the things you feel and think about, their possible causes, specific symptoms, making it his personal mission to know every single remedy for every single situation (it’s neither possible nor impossible, per se, but leave it up to miles to find ways).

— he’s always got an eye out for any sign that you’re feeling anxious. he knows you down to the bare bones, so he’s always aware of the way you fiddle with your fingers and pick at your nails, or the little twitch of your neck or the shivers that run down your back. he knows by a sharp glance thrown his way that you need to step out for a bit to calm down, or by a squeeze on his forearm that you’re feeling that uneasy swelling in your chest and you need him to distract you. all your signals and mannerisms, no matter how big or small, he knows them all and is always ready to rush to your aid.

— the first time you have a panic attack in miles's presence, it's a bit of a mess, if you're being honest. despite everything he's done in order to prepare himself for times like these—all the research and the self-pep talks in the mirror, all kinda thrown out the window. not everything, but he does panic on his own a little when he sees you running short of breath and dissociating. he pulls through, though, because of course he does. he's miles, and he's your boyfriend. he'd do anything for you.

he speaks in such a kindly manner, voice low and smooth as he asks questions gently and murmurs sweet encouragements to you. he gives you your space at first, a hand rubbing your back and gauging your reaction. when your eyes flit over to his with a look he knows all too well, he's by your side in an instant and scooping you up into a bone-crushing hug (he never wants to squeeze you that hard, but when you told him that the pressure relieves your anxiety a ton, he's never stopped doing it since).

— as time goes by, miles gets amazing at handling your attacks. what used to be hours of hyperventilating and crying and trying everything to get yourself to calm down becomes short-lasting whenever miles is around. he always knows exactly what to say to comfort you, and usually that paired with loving hugs and a plethora of kisses is enough to calm you down. he'll bring you to a more secluded place and sit with you until you're feeling better (classes and spider-man duties be damned) because he knows you don't like it when people see you. he'll come up with excuses to get you out of something if need be, and they're always the strangest you've ever heard.

"...and so i said to mrs. miller, 'they're down with a bad, bad flu that'll make you throw up every five minutes and give you lice.' you should've seen the look on her face, it was hilarious," miles's absurd excuse almost makes you stop crying.

"w-what?" you sniffle. "that's not very believable, miles."

"i know! i don't know how she let me go with that one, honestly," still, he turns to you and smiles wide, his hand stroking your back coming to squeeze your shoulder. "s'okay, at least we have the rest of third period free now. maybe even fourth if she tells our next teacher about it."

— once you've come down from your attacks, miles is doting to another level. you tell him that it's not necessary, but he goes all out. he's got everything you could possibly need—snacks of all sorts piled up high, water, sodas, candies, chocolates, skincare if you want them. he'll dump you onto his sofa, practically swimming in the biggest and fluffiest blanket he could find in the house, your favorite movie playing on the tv. he's got everything laid out within arm's reach, and once that's that, he'll do the most important thing of them all—flop on top of you and engulf you. the rest of the day is spent cuddling, hugging, kissing, watching countless movies, stuffing yourselves with junk food, and more kissing.

— all in all, miles adores you. he adores you to the point he'll take care of you when and wherever, and it doesn't matter to him if you're anxious all the time. he loves you all the same and will kiss your anxiety away. ♡

© mirouie ; do not copy, edit, or repost my works. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[flowery-mess]

Noah dating girl with atopic eczema

Soo I know this is very specific and probably not everyone is gonna relate, but as someone struggling with this condition and having big flare up this last month, I wanted to share this with you. It is important to me that this condition is spoken about, so feel free to slide in my inbox or message me if you want to talk about it.💗

*Atopic eczema is a condition that causes dry, itchy and inflamed skin. It is long lasting (chronic) condition and tends to flare sometimes. It is not contagious. The cause is unknown and there is no cure for it, only treatments that can make ot easier to lice with it.*

Noah learned about this condition when he met you.

You are used to living with it by now, but for Noah it's something new.

He sees it as any other condition and takes it very seriously.

He reads about it, because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable by asking questions.

When you two met and it became more serious, you were scared that it will throw him off.

It's not contagious, but lots of people don't know that.

And because of that you get lot of stares and sometimes ugly comments.

When you started dating you were using your creams to make it better, but you HATE those oily creams, so you use them usually only when you know you will be in public and your skin will be seen.

As you two got closer you felt confident enough to tell him about it.

He was surprised, but just because he didn't notice it.

His reaction was very neutral, because he didn't see it as a problem, as you were scared he would.

Which was relief for you.

You stopped using your creams daily and it started showing more and more.

Noah asked some questions, mostly about how can he help, if it hurts when he touches you or if you want him to apply your creams for you.

Which was honestly one of your favorite things, him putting cream on your back and giving you a little massage along with it.

Those creams weren't so bad sinxe Noah started applying them.

But you have your ups and downs with this condition.

When it's really bad, it hurts.

It hurts like burns, and they're all over your body.

Noah makes sure you have water and your meds that help with the itching on your bed table.

He noticed that you're scratching yourself even in sleep, so he gave you one of his longsleeve t-shirts to avoid scratching yourself to blood.

He also started taking showers with you daily, because he noticed you always come out all bloody and bruised and the bathroom is like a fucking sauna.

That's because hot water triggers your skin, but it also feels really nice on your skin in the moment. But you're left with bloody hands and red skin afterwards.

So he showers with you to make sure you use warm water, not boiling hot water.

If you mention that some food or shampoo or washing powder triggers your eczema, you bet he will throw it out immediately and will look up options that are safe for sensitive skin.

When it's really bad and it effects you mentally (because it does) he showers you with love and cuddles.

He hates when it makes you cry.

Or when he sees you looking at your skin in the mirror with those sad eyes.

But what he hates the most is when you come home, obviously sad and he has to get it out of you, that someone at work said nasty comment towards your condition.

His heart aches when he sees you in long sleeved clothes almost every time you two leave the house.

It's not that you're ashamed of eczema, but you want to avoid those looks you get from strangers.

He also hates seeing you in long sleeved clothes at the band's concerts. Those venues get real hot really quick and he knows you're hot even if you say you're fine.

He makes sure to point out if your skin get's even a little bit better and he's all happy about it.

He helps you look for doctors that specialize in those conditions.

And he makes sure to attend every appointment with you, if you want him there.

He also uses it as a reason to go on vacations by the sea for a longer period than is usual, because sea helps with eczema.

Overall he helps you with everything, he helps build the confidence you lost because of this condition and he loves you unconditionally.

Remember that conditions like this don't definw you and you are beautiful and loved!💗

[maxxxines]

SCHITT’S CREEK (2015-2020) Season 3, Episode 11 - Stop Saying Lice!

[alexisrosedaily]

Alexis Rose in Stop Saying Lice

[darknqlmes]

Why didn't you tell us?

PARING: Dean Winchester/Sister!Reader/Sam Winchester

WARNINGS: Language, Blood, Past Abuse, Threats To Kill Someone!

SUMMARY: Y/N Winchester is the oldest out of Dean and Sam, so that means she took all of the abuse. When she heard about John's death, she was happy that she was free. But what happens when she gets home to the bunker and sees someone that she never wanted to see again?

(Also, I'm going to change the story line where Mary left John and Y/N was left to take care of Sam and Dean.)

Y/N, just got in the bunker after a vampire hunt. walking down the stairs when she heard muffled talking. She stopped and listened, but she couldn't make out the voices, so she went the rest of the way down the stairs, and when she looked, she went pale.

"John." Y/N said it coldly and with a bitter voice. John, Sam, and Dean all looked at Y/N and took in her appearance. She had blood all over her and had her duffel bag over her shoulder; she looked like she had seen a ghost; her hair was matted down and messy; even with it in a messy ponytail, she looked like a mess.

"Y/N, honey, how are you?" John asked, "Sam, Dean, what is John doing here?" Y/n asked with a bitter, cold tone, not even looking at them as she asked her question, "Y/n h-." "Boys, get the keys to Baby and drive to a bar or something. I want to talk to John alone.

"Y/N cut Dean off Sam, and Dean looked at each other and just headed towards their rooms like they were little kids that just got punished. "Why are you here? Why, after everything you put me through?" "I wanted to apologize." Y/N chuckled bitterly.

"Apologies? Well, it's a little too late for that, John. You abused me! my whole childhood, and I allowed it because I was scared of you hurting the boys! Oh, and let's not forget about the many times you raped me! All because Mary FUCKING LEFT!" "I did that because you didn't listen to me! So I thought that was the best way for you to listen." "I WAS A KID! A FUCKING KID, John! I WASN'T LISTENING BECAUSE I WAS SO YOUNG! I was nine. Nine, and taking care of you. Taking care of all of us. I was in fourth grade, dragging your ass out of the yard. So you wouldn't freeze to death. I stayed up all night with Sam and Dean when they had chicken pocks. I washed Sam's and Dean's shitty diapers. I picked lice out of Dean and Sam's hair. And I was here when Sam and Dean got their first heartbreak—not Mary, but me." What John and I didn't know was that Sam and Dean were hiding behind the wall, listening to us.

"And never you; you were too fucking loaded." I had tears in my eyes, and John just looked ashamed. "Just get out, John. I've had enough of you're shit." "No." I turn around, looking at John with a death glare.

"What the fuck did you just say?" "I said no, Y/N." I chuckled, "GET THE FUCK OUT BEFORE I KILL YOU, John Winchester!" This time he listened and started walking to the stairs, which I followed.

"Oh, and John." He turned around and looked at me. "If I ever, and I mean ever, see you anywhere near this damn Bunker or near Sam and Dean, I will make you beg for death. Understand?" John nodded his head with fear in his eyes. Then he ran up the stairs and out the door.

I just sighed and went into the library with my hands on the table. I let out a sob, but quickly covered my mouth with my hand. But then I heard a rustle, like someone was moving. I knew that. It was Sam and Dean. "Guys, you can come out. What are we? Five?" I asked with sarcasm in my voice.

They come out and rush to my side. When they saw that I was collapsing to the ground, they caught me just before my knees could touch the ground. while I was sobbing loudly. They started whispering in my ear that everything would be okay. But I knew nothing would be okay.

"Why didn't you tell us, Y/N?" Sam asked, "Because you guys shouldn't have to know what I go through." They just hugged me for the rest of the night. We ate snacks and watched movies. While we all cuddled.