#there's no in between and it sucks :( might just end up making my own bc Yikes

[fabulouslygaybean]

currently fed up with like 90% of the discord servers im in

[sl-ut]

a prince’s desire

so sorry if this sucks lol I just got really high and wrote this in like 2 hours lolol

pairing: rhaenyra targaryen x fem!pregnant!reader x daemon targaryen

description: after being reunited with her lover, rhaenyra takes her back to dragonstone to join her family and requests that daemon take her as a second wife. now, over a year after the wedding, rhaenyra wants nothing more than to see her wife pregnant, and daemon is more than happy to oblige.

warnings: SMUT, pregnancy, reader gets pretty depressed while she's preggo, mentions of masturbation, angst, slight canon divergence, alcohol consumption, mentions of (consensual) adultery turned polyamory, mentions of death (adult and children :((( ), polygamy, swearing, all other canon warnings (incest (i try my hardest to not lay this one on thick bc ew), violence, sexism, etc)

words: 5K

date posted: 27/03/24

previous installments: a princess's order a lady's demand

After his third marriage, Daemon Targaryen had absolutely no intentions of taking another wife. His history with married life had not necessarily been a good one; Rhea Royce had been nothing but a royal pain in his ass; He’d been happy with Laena, though her life came to an end far too soon; He did love Rhaenyra, though ambition and pride often came between them. Mistresses, sure–Daemon was a rather insatiable man, and Rhaenyra had been almost consistently pregnant during their early years of marriage, but he’d never even once considered that he might have to stand through yet another wedding ceremony, especially one that had been arranged and encouraged by his still living wife and future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. 

He hadn’t been at all surprised when Rhaenyra confessed to him that she had once loved her childhood friend, nor that she did not think that she would ever truly be able to move past the conflict between them or love another quite the same. Of course, she loved Daemon, and even Laenor and Harwin to some degree, but none would ever stand up to her very first love that she’d allowed to slip through her fingers like running water. He was equally unsurprised to find that she’d not returned to their rooms on their first night back in King’s Landing, nor that she would return in the early hours of the morning with a familiar glow that he’d only seen on her after their own late night activities, especially since he’d caught wind earlier in the evening that Lady Y/n Y/l/n had returned to the capitol a widow.

There were things that he had expected from this relationship; The two would fuck, of course, to make up for lost time, they would spend the majority of their days strolling through the gardens as they had done when they were girls, and Y/n would perhaps even return to Dragonstone with them as her mistress. Daemon could not exactly blame his wife for her affections, Lady Y/n was undeniably beautiful, and he would certainly take her to bed if he were ever given the chance. She could remarry, of course, she was still young and she’d already proven herself to be fertile, even if the children had not survived infancy. Any man would be a fool to turn her away, which is exactly why Daemon found himself standing before her on the black-sand shores of Dragonstone, a chalice between them and blood dripping from either of their lips. Rhaenyra had watched on with glee, rushing forward the moment that the ceremony had been complete to engulf her new wife in a tight embrace, sealing their own union with a firm kiss. 

Daemon had not been included in the wedding night activities, though he had been invited to watch, which he did so from the balcony of their chambers in order to give them their own space. Rhaenyra’s body had been glowing in the candle light, curves and smooth, milky skin on display for him and their new wife to admire as they both had time and time again in the past. Daemon could not tear his gaze away from their new wife’s figure, no matter how hard he tried. He blamed it on the novelty of having a new wife, especially one that he was not even able to touch on their wedding night, and he might have reacted the same way if he were to see any woman naked for the first time. He stroked himself on the balcony, low grunts leaving his lips as her moans reached his ears, eyes tracing over her breasts, the pudge of her stomach, the curve of her spine, and–oh… he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a woman’s core glisten like that before, nor had he ever heard such a prominent squelch as the Targaryen princess dipped her fingers inside. He’d always known she was a beautiful lady, but now, oh now he was able to understand to some degree why Rhaenyra was so strongly under her spell. 

Just over a year had passed, and Daemon had still yet to enjoy his newest wife to the extent that he would have liked. He did enjoy getting to know her personally, finding her much more amusing than he had expected, and they often found themselves sitting together in the evenings while Rhaenyra was busy with her royal duties. They had kissed each other on several occasions, and she had once allowed him to kneel beneath her skirts one evening after a tad too much wine, but nothing further had developed in their physical relationship. 

She had fit into their family easier than any of them could have expected. She was good with the children, taking them all under her wing as if they were her own, though her relationship with both Rhaenyra and Daemons older children was a bit strained in the beginning. Children were a bit of a sore topic for her; She rarely spoke of her own late children, but both Daemon and Rhaenyra could easily tell how broken she was over their deaths. She and Rhaenyra had bonded even more after Rhaenyra had lost her own daughter in labour, all three parties agreeing that Rhaenyra would not have any more children. 

That did not change the fact that both Daemon and Rhaenyra could tell that Y/n longed to be a mother once more. She honoured her own boys on their name days, and on the anniversaries of their deaths, but none of Rhaenyra’s children saw her as a mother, nor did she expect them to. They both noticed the way she had this longing stare in her eyes each time that one of the younger children called for their mother, or as Jacaerys and Lucerys slowly grew into young men, as her own children would not be much younger than they are now had they survived their sickness. It was just after the one year anniversary of Daemon and Y/n’s wedding that Rhaenyra proposed to him that they offer Y/n the chance to have another child, as many as she was willing to carry, but of course it would ultimately be her decision; Neither of them were very fussed either way, they both already had a small militia of children of their own, but they would be happy to welcome more into the world, especially if it meant that she would be tied to the Targaryen bloodline through more than marriage. 

They waited a while longer to bring this to her, but Rhaenyra had been subtly encouraging her to spend more time with Daemon, and even suggested that they might begin sharing a bed with one another from time to time, whether it be on their own or with Rhaenyra present. She assured her that he was in fact attracted to her, pointing out how she is the one that he stares so longingly at when he watches them together. It was not that Y/n had been opposed to this, she was equally as attracted to Daemon as he was to her, but she had not been with a man since her late husband, and she had not expected to ever take another man to bed again now that she and Rhaenyra were officially together. 

The conversation was finally brought to her a month after she and Daemon spent their first night together. They had been intimate, but she had still not allowed him to be inside of her, instead opting to pleasure him with her mouth, hands, and breasts. Rhaenyra whispered in her ear during supper one evening, suggesting that they invite their husband to join them that night, which she excitedly agreed to, completely unaware of what sort of proposition they would offer her, and she was especially surprised at how quickly she consented to their idea.

Rhaenyra had knelt behind her that night, both straddling their husband’s hips as the blonde gripped her wife’s waist to aid her movements, guiding her with every bounce of her long cock and whispering praises into her ear between kisses on her neck. Daemon had been uncharacteristically happy to sit back against the headboard and watch as his wives moved in unison over him, grunting as the tight squeeze of her velvet walls around him. He could hardly pull himself away from her lips, eagerly swallowing every one of her sweet moans as he emptied himself inside of her, sighing as she slumped back against Rhaenyra as she reached her own peak.

They had continued this for months until the maester finally confirmed that Y/n was with child, her skin glowing in delight at the thought of having a child to raise with her husband and wife. By the fifth month of her pregnancy, her stomach had swelled enough to show through her heavy gowns, and her hormones had taken full effect of her everyday life. 

If it weren’t bad enough that she was constantly fatigued, or that her feet and back ached, or that her breasts were swollen and tender to the mere brush of her gown against her sensitive nipples, she had also grown to be absolutely insatiable. She found that her thighs were constantly slick with her arousal, and that she was able to bring herself to orgasm in the simplest ways, even by just sitting on certain pieces of furniture. Daemon and Rhaenyra could no longer enjoy bedding her on the same night quite as regularly as before, all because of how regularly she was mewling for them; Daemon had even jokingly suggested that they encourage her maids to pleasure her throughout the day so that they could keep up with her, only to be met with Rhaenyra’s palm slamming into the back of his head. It even came to the point where Rhaenyra felt the need to consult the maester about how regularly all three of them were being intimate together, who advised that, as her pregnancy developed, physical intimacy may result in causing her pain.

Instead, Rhaenyra encouraged her to participate in some “self-care” routines, as she had called them, telling her that pregnancy could cause her to think poorly of herself in many ways, so she thought it best that she take long, hot baths under the candlelight, drink honeyed wine and have her maids soak her in scented oils before taking the initiative to pleasure herself as much as she desired. Daemon had not been so keen on this idea, considering that he was constantly finding her with her hands between her thighs and not allowing him to cut in until she had finished, meaning that she was incredibly sensitive and could not take quite as much as she used to be able to before she began this routine. Even Rhaenyra was beginning to regret it, easily noticing the way that her maids now stared at her longingly, likely having seen and heard her in the throes of self-pleasure more times than they had with her husband and wife involved. 

When Rhaenyra brought up her annoyances with Daemon, he had been quick to point fingers, claiming that it was entirely her fault that Y/n had not been seeking them out as much. They both came to the conclusion that they needed to get her out of this habit as quickly as she had gotten into it. 

“My love,” Rhaenyra smiled sweetly as she entered her chambers, finding her settled in the bathtub with rose petals floating in the water around her. The water rippled around her rounded belly and breasts as they poked out into the warm air. Rhaenyra thought that she had never looked so beautiful in her life, with the exception of their wedding day. “How do you feel? The maester told me you had a bout of sickness after supper.”

The woman opened her eyes, smiling sleepily at her wife as she knelt at her side, one hand dipping in to feel the temperature of the water, “‘M fine, Nyra. I do not think that mutton agrees with our babe.”

The Targaryen woman laughed, “I’m sorry, my love, I know how you enjoy mutton so. I will instruct the cooks to avoid it until the babe arrives then.”

“It’s alright,” Y/n stroked a hand over her belly, “I would give anything to keep her happy.”

“Her?” Rhaenyra asked, settling her hand on the bump as well, “You expect a girl?”

“I do,” Y/n beamed, “I will be happy either way, but I have a feeling. I know how you long for a daughter, as well.”

Rhaenyra flushed, “You are too kind to me my love. I will be happy with our child regardless of gender, so long as they are a part of the one I love the most.”

Y/n giggled, “Do not let our husband hear you speaking like that.”

“He knows his place,” Rhaenyra chuckled, fingers wandering up to brush against the tender flesh of her breast, smirking to herself at the moan that fell from her wife’s lips at the smallest touch.

Rhaenyra turned her head, finding her maids looking bashful in the corner of the room. They had been witness to Y/n’s pleasure before, but never at the hand of one of her spouses. 

“Out,” She commanded, “I will finish my wife’s bath on my own.”

They all hesitated for a moment before nodding, curtsying to both women before rushing out. 

“Nyra,” Y/n scolded, “I was about to begin my “self-care”.”

“I can care for you, my heart.” The silver-haired woman cooed as she lowered her hand below the surface of the water, taking little care for the sleeve of her gown as her fingertips found the slick button between her thighs.

“It was your idea, Rhaenyra.” Her voice sounded firmer than before, and her once sleepy eyes had grown hard and accusing. 

“A stupid one, I must admit,” She sighed, rubbing small circles into her clit, “I miss how insatiable you once were, how you begged for me to touch you, how you begged for our husband’s cock.”

A flash of sadness appeared on her face as sprung to her waterline, “You were tired of me, you do not want me.”

Rhaenyra stopped her movements, “What?” 

A soft sob left her lips, “You asked me to take care of myself. I thought it might have been because you and Daemon were busy, but then I came to your rooms one night and–”

She didn’t need to finish for Rhaenyra to understand. She and Daemon had found it difficult to keep up with their wife’s libido, but once she had begun taking care of herself, they still had their own desires and spent many nights together. Rhaenyra felt stupid for not seeing how this would feel to their wife, let alone now that her emotions were heightened. She had not considered herself unattractive until Rhaenyra asked if she mentioned that self pleasure was beneficial for helping her bodily insecurities, only to find that she and Daemon were continuing to fuck without her on the regular. 

Y/n pushed her hand away, sitting up and pulling her knees as close to her chest as her stomach would allow, “Leave me.”

“My love–”

“Please,” Her voice cracked, “Send my handmaidens in, I want to go to bed.”

“Y/n, please let me–”

“Go!” She shrieked, tears now falling down her cheeks readily as she pushed herself out of the water abruptly, “Get out!” 

The door burst open, her handmaidens appearing in the room with worried expressions at the sound of their lady’s screaming. They rushed forward, helping her step out of the tub and wrapping her in her favourite silk robe. 

Rhaenyra watched as she stumbled away, ignoring the water dripping from her as she crawled onto the bed, the most heart-wrenching sobs leaving her lips. The Crown Princess did not want to leave, longing to go after her and make her understand, but the guilt that began to force itself up her throat was too much to bear. Without another word, she pushed through the doorway and into the corridor, rushing to find Daemon. 

Y/n did not leave her chambers for three days. She had breakfast, tea, and dinner in her rooms with no company except for her handmaidens. She refused to allow Rhaenyra or Daemon in to see her any time that they had come to visit, even when they each tried to assert their rank over her handmaidens. She was now almost seven months into her pregnancy, and she was continuously wondering to herself how she had let herself be talked into another child. She wept day and night, countless apologies leaving her lips to her late children, begging for their forgiveness and cursing Rhaenyra and Daemon for bringing her walls down so much that she had allowed herself to be in the position to potentially lose yet another child. 

On the fourth day, Rhaenrya had decided that enough was enough, and used the secret passageway into her wife’s room. When she found her, she felt her heart clench in her throat, finding her still in nothing but the silk robe that she’d left her in four days earlier, curled in a ball on her favourite sofa and staring blankly out the window. How had she allowed herself to hurt the one person she loved above all else again after vowing to protect her heart with her entire being? 

“My love,” Rhaenyra called out, closing the hidden door behind her. She frowned when she was met with complete silence, “My love, can you hear me?”

“What is it, Your Grace?” 

Rhaenyra cringed, having only heard Y/n speak to her so formally when she was truly angry with her. “The maester told me you have not slept or eaten in two days. It is not good for the child.”

Y/n scoffed, “The babe.”

“It is not good for you, either, my love.” 

Rhaenyra knelt in front of her, hands cupping her cheeks and grimacing at how cold she felt. Rhaenyra had gone to Daemon that night, her pale cheeks flushed red and wet from her tears as she paced for hours, wondering how they would be able to make things right with her–how had she let this happen? How could she make her feel unloved by the two people who loved her more than anything?

“Please look at me,” She whispered, head ducking to meet her hollow gaze. “I’m not sure how I can make you feel how deeply angry I am with myself. I am so, so sorry, my love.”

Y/n sniffled, but did not respond.

“May I explain myself?” Rhaenyra waited for her weak nod before she continued, “I did not mean to make you feel unwanted, by any means. You are sweet, and good, and beautiful, and I could never imagine a world where I would not want you. Daemon and I–we cannot excuse ourselves, but we can explain. We were concerned for you, for how often we were bedding you. The maester told us that we could hurt you, which is why I suggested what I did. I did not mean to imply that we did not want you. In fact, we wanted you so deeply that we turned to each other for the first time in so long because we thought you were more comfortable with taking care of yourself.”

Y/n shook her head, “I only did it because that’s what I thought you wanted.”

“I could never not want you, my beautiful wife.” Rhaenyra pressed a kiss to her clammy cheek.

“I must admit,” Y/n laughed bitterly, “I began to believe after some time that I had become a concubine for you both.”

“I do not think it is custom to love one’s concubine, my sweet.” Rhaenyra chuckled, then turned sombre when she took note of her expression, “My love, else bothers you?”

“I do not want to have another child,” Y/n whispered, “I feel almost as if I am betraying my boys. I will love this child with all of my heart, and nothing makes me more happy than to be tied to you both through blood, but I will not have another.”

Rhaenyra sighed, “I am sorry if you have felt pressured by us.”

“I haven’t,” She shook her head, “But I have done some thinking over the past two days. I have been happy here, and I do want this child, but I’m not sure that I can handle another. This child is a sibling, but to have two, it feels like I am replacing them, and to me they are completely irreplaceable.”

Rhaenyra kissed her head, “You will not have to. I will speak to Daemon, and the maester. We will make sure that this is your last pregnancy.”

“You don’t think that Daemon will be upset with me? He won’t want any more children?”

“If he is, then perhaps we would need to rethink how many people we want in this marriage, don’t you think?”

This made Y/n giggle, and it was like music to Rhaenyra’s ears. She finally leaned into her, wrapping her arms around Rhaenyra’s middle and nuzzling into her neck. Rhaenyra gladly held her, running her fingers through her hair affectionately as she began to notice her breathing grow heavier.

“You must be tired, my sweet,” Rhaenyra turned her head to look at her, “Why don’t you have a bath while I go find you some supper, then you can rest.”

“Will you stay with me while I sleep?” She murmured.

Rhaenyra kissed her lips softly, “Of course I will.”

When Y/n woke up, Rhaenyra was still at her side, her long fingers stroking Y/n’s swollen belly over her thin nightgown. 

“Good morning, my love,” She greeted with a small smile. 

“Evening, you mean,” Y/n had not even noticed that Daemon had occupied the space behind her in the bed until he spoke up, his own hand reaching around to lay on top of Rhaenyra’s on her belly. 

Y/n leaned back into him, sighing at the warmth being emitted from his firm chest, “How long was I sleeping?”

“Almost a day,” He kissed her temple to soothe her as she cried out in surprise, “But you needed it.”

“It’s true,” Rhaenyra affirmed, “You were awake for two days straight. I’ll call your ladies, you must be starving.”

“I am,” Y/n trailed a finger up her arm, “But not for food.”

Rhaenyra shook her head as Daemon chuckled at their wife, “My love, you are very weak right now–”

“Neither of you have touched me in almost two months,” She whined, “Please.”

The two Targaryens shared a glance over her shoulder, Daemon shrugging in response to Rhaenyra’s concerned look.

“Alright,” She finally conceded, “But you must lie there, let us take care of you.”

The woman eagerly nodded, excited whimpers falling from her lips from the slightest drag of Daemon’s lips against her jugular, his fingers pulling the strap of her nightgown down over her shoulder to expose one of her tender breasts. Rhaenyra was quick to pull her into a kiss, tongue forcing itself past her wife’s lips and swallowing every sound she made, her nimble fingers twisting her perky nipple gently. 

Everything moved in a blur for Y/n over the next few moments, somehow finding herself now on her back, knees bent as her nightgown was rucked up to settle over her swollen belly, Rhaenyra wasting little time in dragging her tongue torturously through her folds, which had already been dripping with her sweet nectar from the moment that she had woken up. Her cheeks felt warm, embarrassed at how sensitive and wet she’d been before either of them even touched her and at how quickly she was able to feel herself at her peak. 

At her side, Daemon was needy for her attention. He tucked two fingers under her chin, quickly turning her head to capture her lips in a warm and messy kiss. Her own eager fingers quickly found the laces of his breeches, tugging at them until they were just loose enough to slide her hand inside and take hold of his rapidly hardening member, their sighs of pleasure being lost in one another’s mouths as she slowly pumped him until he was completely hard, whining in protest as he pushed her touch away. 

“Patience, sweet one,” He tsked at her, instead turning his attention to suckling at her breasts, tugging her other strap down to release both of her heaving tits to his mercy. 

The wave crashed over her before she could comprehend it, eyes rolling back as neither of them made any move to slow or stop their ministrations as they each licked and sucked at her most sensitive parts until she was trembling with aftershocks. 

“Do you think she is ready for me?” Daemon peered down at Rhaenyra, who had continued to lick at her clit softly.

She grinned up at him, “More than she’s ever been.”

He chuckled, reaching his hand down to feel her wetness for himself with a wicked glint in his eyes, “Perhaps we should deprive our needy little wife more often if it means she will always be this responsive.”

Rhaenyra frowned, “You are bold to assume that either of us will be able to resist for so long ever again, husband. I’m certain that I can’t.”

“Perhaps I merely need to be reminded, I may not have my wits about me.”

Within seconds, his clothes had been completely removed and was was dragging her by the ankles until her bum was hanging off the edge of the mattress and he was pressed tightly between her legs. Meanwhile, Rhaenyra had helped her slide her shift off over her head, leaving her completely bare to her husband and wife.

Her back arched off of the bed as Daemon notched the head of his member against her entrance, easily slipping inside with a drawn out moan, eyes closed as he relished in the feeling of her silky walls throbbing around him. 

“See how he desires you?” Rhaenyra whispered to her, “You make him weak, he belongs to you. We belong to you.”

She nodded, watching in awe as Rhaenyra’s slender neck was engulfed by their husband’s fingers, his meaty fist forcing her to meet his hard kiss as his spare hand slid beneath Y/n’s hip and flipped her onto her side, barely missing a beat as he threw her top leg over his shoulder and sped up his thrusts. 

Rhaenyra grinned into the kiss, reaching up to slide her middle and index fingers into her wife’s mouth, slowly thrusting them in and out until they were dripping with her saliva. Carefully, she moved them down and began circling them around her untouched hole, feeling the snug ring of muscles tighten and release under her touch. The sloppy juices of her release had dripped down and provided an extra lubricant as one of her long fingers dipped inside, stilling for a few moments to allow her to adjust to the intrusion before she pressed the second in as well. Her movements were slow, not wanting to force the tightness of her ass and further than she already was, especially with the force of Daemon’s thrusts into sweet cunt. 

Mere moments passed before her second release began bursting out of her core and splashing against Daemon’s stomach, the warmth of her juices bringing him to his own climax. She allowed him to keep forcing himself into her abused hole before she was pressing her foot flat into his shoulder to push him away. 

“Look at her,” Rhaenyra murmured to him, smirking down at her wife’s trembling body, “Look at how needy she is for us. We belong to her, but she is ours alone.”

Daemons slowly allowed his cock to slide out of her, falling down to poke at her asshole as Rhaenyra pulled her fingers out. The future queen slid from the mattress, disappearing out of Y/n’s sight as Daemon huddled overtop of her, pressing warm kisses across her neck and chest. He pulled back as Rhaenyra reappeared next to her, wiping her hands clean with a wet cloth before she made quick work of wiping the pregnant woman’s sensitive cunt clean as Daemon readjusted his breeches as she moved across the room to sit by the burning fireplace. 

Rhaenyra helped her wife move back up to lay against her pillows, tucking her in beneath the soft sheets. She crawled in next to her, pressing her lips to her forehead and chuckling when Rhaenyra felt her tugging at her skirts.

“I am alright, my heart,” She pushed her hands away, “You should rest. We will call for your supper.”

Y/n nodded, a touch disappointed that she hadn’t been able to taste her wife’s delicious cunt, but her sadness faded as she felt her eyes fluttering shut, lulling her into a deep sleep as she huddled closer to Rhaenyra’s chest.

[bigdumbbambieyes]

nsfw

It’s almost one in the morning and Steve opens up the messages app on his phone, seeing the notification from Billy and clicking on it.

A dick pic with an accompanying message: it’s not gonna suck itself.

Steve’s a fucking sucker. No pun intended.

But, he can’t help himself. Not around Billy.

He’s already getting hard just from the picture alone.

He can already feel it in his mouth, stretching his lips and heavy on his tongue, leaking precum in the back of his throat.

Christ.

He responds back: it’s gonna have to bc i’m not driving over.

who said anything about you driving over?

i just assumed.

i’ll be outside in like 2 mins. get your shoes on.

Steve’s hand pauses where it’s stroking himself through his sweats, his eyes widening at the message before he’s rolling out of bed and grabbing a shirt from the floor, along with some socks.

Just as he gets downstairs, pulling his hoodie over his head, he peeks outside and yeah, Billy’s parked at the end of the driveway.

He feels a stupid little thrill sneaking out of his parent’s house, as if he’s not free to come and go as he pleases, and quietly shuts the front door behind him before rushing over to the running car.

Opening the door and sliding into the passenger seat, Billy’s smirking at him and looking down at his crotch, stating, “You got hard over my pic, Harrington?”

“Shut up,” Steve sighs as he leans over, sucking on Billy’s lower lip and giving a soft little laugh as Billy grabs the back of his neck and licks into his mouth, fucking filthy.

Billy doesn’t even go far, just down the street, in between street lights, and leans his seat back a little. Just enough for Steve to not hit his head on the steering wheel as he leans over the centre console.

Steve feels his mouth water as Billy pushes his own sweats down, not even wearing fucking underwear, and pulls his dick out.

And maybe he should be ashamed at how eager he is for this, for these midnight romps, letting himself be picked up and used because it’s what they both want, but he doesn’t feel even an ounce of shame.

Not when he leans down and sucks the tip of Billy’s cock into his mouth, moaning as he feels Billy’s hand in his hair, gripping a handful of it tight in his fist. He doesn’t push Steve down, not yet, but he loves the feeling — like Billy’s anchoring him.

“Fuck,” Billy groans as Steve takes more of him, takes him a little deeper, and purposefully reaches to shut off the stereo, the car filling with the lewd sounds of Steve’s mouth working his cock.

Slurping and sucking like a fucking slut, watching Steve and doing his best to not fuck up into his mouth — not yet.

“Got the prettiest mouth for sucking cock,” Billy sighs, which makes Steve keen softly, a blush spreading over his cheeks as he takes Billy even deeper.

Billy doesn’t stop talking, just grips Steve’s hair a little harder and growls, “Gonna cum down your throat and you’re gonna swallow it like the good boy you are, huh?”

Steve nods and hums, chokes and gags a little as he takes Billy into his throat, hearing the wet click of it and his own dick throbs in his sweats, desperate.

“Might just leave you like this, drop you off at home still hard,” Billy huffs, “Ready to cum in your pants like a fucking whore.”

That makes Steve moan around the cock in his throat, tears gathering in his eyes from the pleasure shooting through him.

“Yeah? You like that, princess?” Billy chuckles mean, “Might just do it. Keep you all pent up, come and visit you in the morning once your folks leave, have you wake up already split open on my cock—”

Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck—

Steve moans and his hips twitch, his cock pulsing in his sweats as he cums untouched, a wet spot forming on the soft fabric.

“Jesus,” Billy groans, pushing Steve’s head down and keeping him there as his hips stutter, moaning out long and loud as he cums, filling Steve’s throat and mouth.

He does his best to swallow, but he pulls off coughing, his eyes a mess of tears and his mouth smeared with cum and spit as he sucks in lungfuls of air.

Billy’s on him in an instant, licking into his mouth with a deep groan, sucking his own cum off of Steve’s tongue and his spent dick gives a pathetic little twitch of interest.

The blond pulls away with a grin, so familiar now even in the dim light, “I knew you were into that shit.”

“What shit?” Steve rasps quietly, leaning back in his seat with a huff.

“The sleeping shit,” Billy clarifies, reaching over and opening up the glove compartment, pulling out a couple fast food napkins and tossing them into Steve’s lap, “You really want to wake up with me inside you, pretty boy?”

Steve thinks about it with a little pout as he wipes his face clean, imagining it: waking up with Billy on top of him, kissing his neck, already stretched out around his cock, probably ready to fucking blow. Christ.

“We could try it,” he mumbles, balling up the napkin and tossing it into the back with a little smirk, hearing Billy’s annoyed huff.

“Well, you better invite me to a sleepover soon,” Billy hums, turning the steering wheel and making a quick U-turn back to the Harrington house.

Steve smiles to himself, delighted, and teases, “I’ll think about it.”

Billy gives him one last filthy kiss before unlocking the car and smiling, humming, “Night, peanut.”

“Night,” Steve smiles back, the whole thing feeling a little too cute and stupid for late night hookup, and pecks Billy’s lips one last time before getting out and going back inside.

He watches Billy drive off and thinks about that sleepover.

[revasserium]

beloved with zoro opla :O?

kiss me sweet, swallow me whole

opla!zoro; 2,155 words; nsfw, fem!reader, smitten!zoro, established relationship, fingering, p in v sex, "baby girl"/"baby", no "y/n", tummy shot, drowsy morning sex, pwp

summary: sleepy, emotional morning sex w/ zoro; that's it, that's the plot

a/n: extremely self-gratuitous zoro smut for my 2k celebration bc why not

He breaks you like a promise, cracks you like lightning over his storm-ridden skies. He kisses you like you might have forever buried beneath the heat of your tongue, like if he just kissed you hard enough and deep enough he could pull the essence of you into his mouth, swallow it like sunken treasure. He kisses you greedy; he kisses you sweet and urgent and needy. He kisses you and you kiss him back and the pair of you trade your breaths as if you’re going to live underwater or in outer space — just like this, his breath for yours and yours for his, back and forth till neither of you knows where one ends and the other begins.

Truth tangles like sunlight against the morning seas, flickering and fractured.

Heat breaks between your bodies, and you think you can taste the shape of his grin against your lips. You pull back to catch him chuckling.

“Morning,” you say, leaning in to skim your teeth against his bottom lip.

He lets out a soft groan, surging forward to slot your mouth against his, thumb stroking along the line of your cheek, down your jaw to hold you close, hold you open —

“Morning…” he murmurs, when he finally pulls away again, your foreheads pressed, his nose nudging yours once before he trails his lips down to your neck. You feel his breath there, hot and ragged against your pulse. You hiss as you feel him, hard and insistent on your hip, his leg pressing up between yours, chasing white-hot tingles of pleasure up beneath your skin.

“Good dreams?” you ask, letting your eyes flutter closed as he mouths at the sensitive skin of your neck, his large, warm palms skimming down the length of your body, skating along the ridges of your ribs, down till they settle on the soft plush of your thighs and squeeze. You can’t help but whimper; his lips tug into a satisfied grin against your collarbone seconds before he sinks in his teeth just to hear you moan.

“Sure,” he answers, and you can still hear the slur of sleep in his voice, but there’s nothing sleepy about the way his fingers skim into the waistband of your panties, lingering in the dip of your hipbone, “You?”

You press your lips and let yourself sink into the dull, insistent ache of desire, inching your knees apart to allow him more access, your own fingers skimming along the skin of his biceps, up, up, and up till they sink into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Mm… dreamt of you…” you admit in a low, honey-kissed voice.

At this, Zoro laughs, and the feel of it rumbling from his chest to yours makes your stomach tense in anticipation.

“Yeah? Wanna tell me about it?” the dull of his nails drags along your thighs as he slowly tugs your underwear from you, slipping them down your legs till you kick them away, breathless. He pushes himself up, caging you beneath him, the sudden, expectant heat of his erection pressing against your slick folds making your whole body shudder with want.

“Z-Zoro… mngh —” you squeeze your eyes, coherence fluttering from you, quick as sparrow-wings. But he tuts, leaning down bite into your shoulder, the sting making you twitch.

“Tell me.”

You suck in a long breath, forcing your eyes back open as you look up at him, batting your lashes, and he thinks he can lose himself in the caramel thickness of your gaze.

“You — I — ah fuck — “ you whimper pathetically as he leans back to slip a finger along your sodden folds, his neatly filed nails catching on your pulsing clit, making your entire body jerk and arch upwards. He watches with hooded eyes and kiss-bitten lips.

“Sorry — didn’t catch that —”

You whine, barely able to cast him a reproachful look before he pushes a finger deep into you, curling it to skim along where he knows you want him most. You keen, head tipping back to expose your throat. He is mesmerized by the sight of you, taken by the image —

“Zoro!”

He lets out a thick groan, pushing another finger into you, and then another, savoring in the way you quiver beneath him, the stretch of his fingers already setting you on edge. He gives his wrist an experimental flick and smirks, satisfied with the way your whole body shudders. He does it again, and then again.

“Mm — so about this dream…” he says, leaning down to drop a kiss to your collarbone before lowering himself to your tits and licking his lips. He’s never been shy about how much he loves them, the soft fullness that fills his palms so perfectly, the sensitive hardness of your nipples as he rolls them beneath his thumbs. He grins as he uses his free hand to give your right tit a squeeze, relishing the way your skin takes on the imprint of his palm and fingers.

He flicks his thumb against your clit again, pumping his fingers in and out of your needy cunt.

“Tell me about it.”

You shake your head, already incoherent, and he loves you like this — loves to know that he’s the only one who can reduce you to this with a few flicks of his wrist, a few thrusts of his fingers.

“Z-Zoro — need you — w-want you…” your voice is just as broken as his self-control feels as he leans down to mouth at your lips, licking into the heat of your mouth, sucking on your tongue as you whimper once more.

“Need you to use your words, baby girl.”

You whine, writhing beneath him as he pulls all three fingers from you and presses them to your lips. You let your mouth fall open without complaint, taking in his fingers, and he has to bite back a thick groan as he watches the way your tongue flicks out to lick each one of them clean.

“W-want you — want your c-cock —” your voice breaks, almost as if you’re shy about the indecency of the word, but Zoro only grins, pinning both your wrists above your head as he maneuvers himself between your legs and lets the tip of his cock tease against your entrance. You hiss at the contact, hips rucking up helplessly.

“Deep breath, baby,” he says, and for a moment, everything is still and everything is the breath — you feel the air fill your lungs, feel the faint press of his palm against your stomach, and then —

You let out a sharp cry as you feel him thrust into you in one, fluid, endless motion, knocking the breath from you. And then — it is only the stretch and fire, the burn and desire. You think you might go insane with the shape of him filling the shape of you, the push and pull, the force and full —

“F-fuck — more —!” and you’re desperate with it, he knows you are. The way you tug at his arms, the way your body tightens over his cock.

“Yeah? More?”

The bed creaks with the force of his thrusts, and he vaguely wonders how hard he’d have to fuck you before the entire thing breaks. You whine, high and pitched in the back of your throat, your whole body thrumming to the rhythm of his hips. Zoro groans, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck as he ruts into you, hard and fast and reckless.

“— so good — f-feels so — g-good —” your breathless, voice nearly ruined from how hard he’s fucking you, saltine tears kissing the edges of your lashes as you lay beneath him.

“Mm —” and he feels how close you are, feels you fluttering around him, your stomach tensing even as you tug weakly against his hold on your wrists.

“Z-Zoro — gonna — gonna —”

He leans down to capture your lips in his, intent on swallowing down your moans as your toes curl and your knees bend and he feels your climax crashing through you till you’re twitching beneath him, your cunt squeezing down over him, so tight it nearly drives him insane.

“Fuck — fuck, baby…” he groans as he feels your walls clamping down around him, and he pushes through still, feeling the head of his cock as it brushes against the base of your cervix and your entire body jerks at the movement.

“T-too much — Zoro!” you grapple at him, attempt to scramble away, but he’s a greedy man and he pulls you back by your hips, pinning you beneath him with a savage, hunter's grin.

“Yeah? It’s — a lot, hm? Think you can take more?” he asks, sitting back on his haunches now, his eyes half-lidded as he drags you down the length of the bed, nearly mindless with pleasure, fucking into you so fast and hard that your eyes nearly roll back into your head.

“N — ngh — yes —” your voice cracks and he grins, reaching down to pull you even higher over his hips, his fingers digging into your thighs as he hoists your entire lower body up into the air, holding you suspended so you’re helpless to do anything else but let him have his way with you.

“Lemme hear you beg —” he says, his voice slurring with want as he finally lets himself go, chasing his own high.

“Zoro — please, please, p-please!”

“Fuck — shit —” he pulls free of you a second before he cums, splattering your stomach and chest, gasping as he slowly sets you back down on the bed.

You’re both panting, and distantly, you can hear the sounds of the rest of the crew — the dull clank of footsteps, Usopp grumbling about having to pull up the anchor, Sanji calling for breakfast down the hall.

You let out a long breath, peering up at him with a lazy smile.

“You’ve made a mess,” you say, even as Zoro sighs, laughing as he slumps down beside you, nosing into your cheek.

“You helped,” he says, his voice gravely and low and almost accusatory. You crinkle your nose as you strain up to examine the thick ropes of sticky white cum drying on your stomach and chest.

“Mm,” you sigh as you slump back down into your pillows.

Slowly, Zoro pushes himself up and haphazardly wipes away the mess with one of his discarded shirts before tossing it back onto the floor. You make a face.

“Ew, aren’t you gonna wear that later?”

“Thought about it… not anymore,” he says as he slumps back down next to you, pulling the covers over you both and pressing a lazy kiss to your cheek. He loops an arm around you and you sigh into his touch.

You turn your face towards him only to find him smiling. You trace a finger against his cheek and lean in for yet another indulgent kiss. Like this, love is a language both your bodies have always known how to speak, and falling is just the font and the figure.

"You never did tell me about your dream," he says, tracing abstract patterns into your waist. You grin, feeling a blush creep into your cheeks.

"No need -- we just lived it."

Zoro laughs, even as an insistent knock comes at the door.

"Zoro? I know you're in there -- breakfast is ready. If you don't come out soon, Luffy's gonna eat everything," Nami's voice calls from beyond the door.

You groan, burying your face in his chest. Zoro sighs, but doesn't respond.

"Fine then, have it your way," Nami says as she leaves.

“Think we can skip breakfast?” you ask when you finally pull away.

Zoro grunts, “Probably… the cook’ll save something for us if we don’t show up. Even if he bitches about it.”

You giggle, head tipping back as he lays another series of kisses along your neck and collarbone.

“Yeah… he probably will.”

Zoro lets out a long breath as he tugs you into his chest, feeling you relax against the shape of him. He wonders if he’ll ever have the words to tell you what you mean to him — how you’ve grown to become his whole entire world. How there are facets of love he doesn’t know he’ll ever be able to explain — but you make him think that one day, he might be able to learn how to.

“I…” Zoro’s breath tapers off as you shift in his arms.

“Yeah,” you say, looping your arms around his torso and running your fingers against the planes of his back.

“Yeah,” he agrees, letting his body melt into the feel of you, the solidness of your touch, the warmth of the sunlight pouring in from the open window.

“I love you, Zoro,” you whisper, leaning in to press your lips to the place between his eyebrows.

He hums, holding you close, and then closer.

“Me too,” he says, his lips skimming the skin of your collarbone, and he hopes that you understand. The words weigh heavy on his tongue — sweet and salty and somehow, heavier than he’d imagined. He’s told you before, and he’ll tell you again. But sometimes, these words still don’t come as easy as he’d like.

But he hopes you understand.

You smile; you kiss him.

And he knows that you do.

requests are temporarily: closed

but asks are always open :)

[luniarix]

sexting toji while he was at work was only supposed to be a small petty thing— so you didn’t expect him to come back home immediately after.

NOTE: this took way too long,, and two days late… i’m so sorry y’all!! anyways, i need toji so fucking bad u guys do not understand omg. i also changed warnings into content warnings bc warnings didn’t sound as aesthetically pleasing to me so yaaa (。-∀-) P.S: i really wanted to include sex but this was already so late so i had to stick with oral ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡ my next fic will fs have it!! and honestly this felt kind of rushed towards the end so i might come back and fix shit

CW; fem!reader, sexting, edging, sex toy usage, pussy eating, oral!sex, 69, ass slapping, y/n being a tease, toji being a cocky bastard, spitting (on the pus), gagging, names such as; baby, and angel

letting toji sway you into having him give you a palette of hickeys from your neck leading down to your thighs as he bites softly on the soft skin, leaving a burning desire everywhere he kissed, all before he went to work—was the worst mistake you made.

you were currently suffering from sexual frustration, and it had been a few hours since toji had gone to work for the day. it was even crazier knowing that he had so little time beforehand and managed to have you a marked mess, and then getting ready in less than 10 minutes.

you wanted his fingers buried deep within your pussy, his other hand holding and squeezing your thigh, and his face pressed against your bud as he’s lapping up your juices and swirling his tongue around the clit.

your nipples became hard at the thought of what you’d do with him when he came home, and you had decided that you were fed up with just wanting to wait for him like an obedient dog. going under the bed, you find the shoe box that was filled with the sex toys you two use sometimes and take out the kitty smart wand vibrator, along with the clear dildo.

you pull off your booty shorts all the way down until they’ve reached your ankles, pull up your oversized t-shirt (that you stole from toji) above your round tits and begin to massage your clit. you moan softly, and then place the kitty vibrator on your cunt. pressing the on button, your toes curl and head tilts upwards as the wave of pleasure immediately hits you.

you flick the button to a higher speed, hand going to your sensitive nipple and pulling on it. you put a little more pressure on your dripping pussy, biting your lip and closing your eyes shut. you imagined toji being the one pressing the vibrator against you, his teeth pulling and sucking on your tits, making sure to always create marks in the shape of his initial.

he’d have his bangs messily clinging to his face, but you would always be able to see that lustful look in his eyes as he watched you come undone attentively, so abundantly clear. the thought of him manhandling you with the added on twist that was building inside your stomach, had you beginning to break. your body falls onto the plush pillows behind you as your back arches, hips trembling and thighs shaking as you reach your high.

your lashes flutter back open as a grand idea comes to mind. grabbing your phone from the counter beside your bed, you place a pillow in front of you and position your phone so your whole body was in view. the wicked idea that you were going to play out had made your folds become wetter than before, and you lick your lips in an impatient manner.

you toss the vibrator to the side, and grab the transparent dildo right beside you. you begin to record yourself; kissing the tip of the cock, slowly beginning to inch it’s way through your thick lips before enveloping the whole thing in your throat.

swirling your tongue around the shaft and then pulling it back out to leave only tip in your lips, had even your own mind spinning. the dildo was now coated with your saliva, and the slick in between your thighs was too much at this point.

you look straight at the camera and begin to play with your clit using your middle finger, drawing slow rough circles on it. but that was only for a few seconds before the arousal had taken over you— you wanted to cum again. not even, it was a need with the way you were absolutely throbbing.

god, since when have you been this riled up with just masturbating?

maybe it was the fact that you were going to watch yourself reach your climax, or maybe it was the fact that with every nip at the skin toji took, he left a feral feeling at its wake. you press the tip of the dildo against your hole, propping one of your legs up and slide your back against the pillows once more.

“toji…”

you whisper his name like it was almost wrong, the word trembling at the tip of your lips— hand involuntarily twitches in a way that forces past the tip into you. your chest heaves, pretty tits circling and tongue lolling out in pleasurable surprise. it was pathetic considering that toji would fuck this dildo into you at a rougher pace.. but this time it was different.

this feeling? it had everything to do with your senses being heightened, and it was exactly because of him. you choke on your spit, mewling at the slow pace you were forcing yourself to go at. you would make sure you captured every moment before cumming. toji was at fault for making you like this, so he’d be the one to see how much you could cum without him.

your calm breaths couldn’t hide the twitch of your thighs; you wanted more than what you were already getting. picking up the pace, your free arm snakes around your leg to make sure it didn’t close. and so you were able to show everything. now taking in every inch of the toy, your hips salaciously begin to rock at the same speed of your hand.

soft moans fell out of your mouth as your speed becomes faster, toes curling and face distorting into the same one you always have when you’re at your limit. you pull the toy out slowly as you tighten around it, the lewd squelching noises makes your eyes roll back as you pull the toy out all the way, your cum coating the dildo and the rest of the cream slowly dripping down your cunt.

you bite your lip and look back up to the camera, and grin devilishly. then you end the video, and quickly send it to him without any more context. you keep the messages open as a means to watch when he sees it, and in a few minutes he does.

you quickly shut your phone off and toss it onto the bed— a reaction from the anxiousness coursing through your veins. you then get a notification, and quickly snatch your phone back to see the words,

‘don’t test me, y/n.’

you grin wildly and think for a moment before writing in return,

‘test you? i would never.’

your eyes widen when he immediately texts back.

‘i warned you.’

your breath hitches as the same heat you felt when toji was getting dangerously close to your clothed pussy, pulses through your body and directly down to your cunt. he was definitely going to punish you when he came back from work, and there was still a few hours left for his shift so you’d have enough time to prepare yourself.

‘are you all riled up cause i got you hard at work baby?’

you gingerly walk into the living room after sending one last text message that you knew would send him over the edge. glancing at the conversation one last time, you see that he’s left you on read. you smile, knowing you succeeded in annoying him. you then decide to put on a show as a means to pass time, leaning back and placing a hand lazily on your stomach.

but you didn’t expect the door to begin rattling 30 minutes later.

slowly gazing down to the moving doorknob, a long shiver of horror had gone completely down your spine. you begin to chew on your lip, whipping your head back to turn off the tv. you slouch completely down on the couch to hide yourself, but you knew soon enough you’d be fucked. quite literally.

the door swings open, and you hear strong footsteps come into earshot, a bag being swung over onto the couch, right beside you.

you look up and see toji staring down at you with those piercing emerald eyes. his eyes crease when he begins to slowly smirk, and you swallow harshly.

“missed me?”

he never breaks eye contact with you as he walks around the couch to your side, taking long leisurely strides. he’s undoing his tie as you start backing away from him— and you know all too well that’s it’s useless to do so.

toji is quick to drag you back towards him by the ankles, the plush of your ass roughly hitting his thighs as he keeps your legs locked against his chest with just one of his big beefy arms. you gulp, eyes scanning his face but since the curtains had practically always had your house dark, you could barely see the expression he had on.

but you knew for certain that he was beaming with arrogance.

he had you practically in a trap, one that you wouldn’t of been able to escape the second he opened the door. besides the alarms going off in your head— how the hell did he get home so soon?

toji tilts his head at the fact that you haven’t said anything, pulling your legs up even more and the globe of your ass hits right against his crotch, lower back being lifted off the couch. you could tell how hard he was. the tent was practically poking your clothed pussy. you swallow nervously at the thought of what was soon to come.

“i was in a meeting when you sent me that video. do you know how annoyed i was having to sit there in front of other important business men with a boner?”

your lips twitch upwards for a second, but your attitude immediately falters when toji begins to unbutton his shirt and slinks it off of himself. he throws it towards a corner in the dark room, and huffs.

“after you pulled that shit, i had to immediately excuse myself, and took an early leave…”

he subtly begins rubbing circles on the sides of your thighs, inching upwards to your hips. his laggard movements and tone were in contrast with the way his sharp jade eyes were observing you.

“you wanna explain to me why you sent that video to me knowing i was at work?”

he sounded so exasperated, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. now he knew what you had to go through up until half an hour ago. you help yourself up onto your elbows, and stare back at him with a displeased expression.

“you started it. i was just finishing it.”

toji begins to pull your shorts down, and is quick to yank them off of you without you even being able to process it. your eyes widen as you let out a squeak of surprise.

“finishing it? oh, no baby… you’ve only started something else.”

he begins to slip your shirt up,right above your tits. he licks his lips and sinks down to your chest, closing his mouth around one of your hard nipples. you moan softly at the way he swirls his tongue around the areola, before he then sucks on it. he brings his hand up to begin pinching at the other one, and your eyes flutter shut.

you try to start rocking your hips against his crotch, but with the way he had you lifted up right against him you couldn’t. you whine in desperation, frustrated at the fact that he had you locked in place. your head tilts back as he starts to pull on the swollen pebble, continuously swirling his tongue around it and ever so often pinching the other one in between his fingers.

your lips part to let out a quivering sigh, and that gave him enough access to shove two fingers in. you almost gag but then immediately close your lips around them, swirling your tongue. but as a retort you bite down, making sure you’d leave teeth marks. he growls and bites above your areola, teeth sinking in enough to cause pain. he immediately soothes over it with his tongue, a soft whine releasing from your throat.

“you’re very feisty today… but that’s okay.”

toji mumbles, quickly getting up and proceeding to unbuckle his belt. his movements were so languid your cunt began to pulse with painful need. he slowly zips down his pants and lowers them along with his boxers, his fat cock softly slapping against his stomach. an audible swallow comes from your throat and a chuckle is heard from him.

he pulls away from you, proceeding to step out of his pants and kicking them somewhere else in the room. he never breaks his gaze from you as he leans back down and slips off your panties and again— tosses them somewhere else in the living room.

your eyes go wide when he spreads your legs and finally looks down, his eyes going from your heaving chest to your wet cunt. you try and press your thighs together, but toji’s swift to push your legs upwards. toji begins to leave wet kisses down your slit, languidly flicking his tongue against your hole and then tracing up towards your clit.

your toes curl as he begins to unhurriedly kiss your clit and give a few tedious licks. your breathing gets heavier when you notice that he’s taking his time on purpose, and you try to buck your hips up. but he holds you tightly, and through the pecks he was leaving you could tell he was smirking.

“toji… please—”

he cuts you off by abruptly slapping your ass and keeps his hand there to feel the recoil. your eyes tightly close momentarily and you bite your lip to keep yourself from squealing.

“you don’t get to beg after what you pulled.”

you push your head back into the couch cushions as he begins to greedily suck on your sensitive bud, messily devouring your juices like a starved man. you whimper when his head draws back, but then you shriek in surprise when he spits on your clit. toji shoves two fingers into you, and your thighs jerk from the sudden feeling.

your jaw slacks as your moans get louder, and you’re writhing your hips sensuously to get more friction. toji was eating you out so sloppily, the wet slurping sounds had your eyes crossing to the back of your head while you continue to mewl desperately.

his fingers curled inside of you deliciously and your walls clenched around him. the hungry need to cum was inching closer. you were getting impatient. you try and push your hips closer but toji acknowledges it and begins to slow down the pace he’s going at with his tongue. you didn’t have time to get frustrated because then his fingers speed up, which has your back arching off of the couch.

you try your best to silence your muffled screams that we’re getting much harder to control— but with the way toji is continuously thrusting his fingers into you it seems like you won’t be able to hold on for much longer. a cry begins to form in your throat as you knew you were about to cum but it instantly dies down when toji hastily pulls his digits out.

you lift your head up to look at him in dissatisfaction, but he only gives you a satisfied chuckle in response. he was clearly content at the fact that he was starting to piss you off. your irritation soon spikes when toji sits down on the couch right next to you, and leans on the arm rest.

“hurry up and come here.”

you flutter your lashes at him in confusion before it hits you. he wanted to 69. you sheepishly sit and then back up towards him, having toji pull you by the waist so your dripping cunt is directly on top of him and you’re face to face with his cock. you take hold of his dick, rubbing circles on his tip before peppering kisses on it down to the base of the shaft. you twitch when you feel toji’s tongue back on your clit, and try to focus on tracing his veins with your tongue.

you feel him softly groan against your pussy, which has your hips pushing back into his face. you whine when he slaps your ass again, and he roughly sucks on your clit in response. you eagerly take his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him before beginning to bob your head.

you take a few more inches of him, toes curling as you gag at how he had already hit the back of your throat. you messily bounce your head as drool begins to run down your chin and rub all over your thick lips, loving the way his fat cock was pulsing. you knew he was close because he always came faster when you’d do this. your jaw ached and your mouth felt numb but it didn’t matter with the way his moans were getting louder, and the way his tongue and fingers were working together in perfect rhythm.

your eyes roll back when he gives one last suck on your clit, and your high pitched whimpers had toji’s mind clouding. you try and take all of him, gagging once more. toji loved it when you gagged around him, his ego swelled every time, but he also cums faster like that too. so when he’s bucking his hips up when you pull your head up till his tip and then immediately having all of his cock in your mouth once more; it doesn’t come as much of a shock.

your eyes close shut as toji’s cum leaks out of your lips, and drips onto your tits and his pelvis. you wait for him to finish before gradually taking him out of your mouth. you swallow his cum and turn your head back to him with glassy eyes. he’s gazing at you with a serene expression before sitting up, and you follow after.

“you did so well angel.”

toji turns back at you and brings your head closer to give you a soft kiss on the lips. he then pulls away, and a shit eating grin forms on his face. your brows furrowed in suspicion as his eyes gleam with mischief.

“but damn, i gotta leave you sexually frustrated more often.”

[highvern]

Teach Me II

or private tutoring

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom (Seokmin) x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor, college au, frat!svt

Warnings: inexperience!dk, experienced!reader, mentions of previous drug use (weed) , oral (m. & f. receiving), cum swallowing, spitting, fingering, making out, strength kink bc he's hot, minor overstim at the end but he's just enthusiastic, fwb, this chapter is pure smut, spreading my DK is a munch agenda

Length: ~3.5k

Note: literally a doozy to write but its done, I have part 3-5 outlined so hopefully they go quicker, lemme know what yall think!

read more here

Tuesday Night Approx. 10:02 PM, DK’s bedroom

Dokyeom has come to the conclusion he’s hallucinating. The hot wet suckle of your mouth against the head of his cock, one hand jerking him in time with the motions of your head while the other gently cups his balls is just too good to be true. The view he’s witnessing is even more proof he’s gone certifiably insane. 

You’re knelt between his spread legs at the edge of the bed, shoulders framed by his knees. At some point Dokyeom fell back on his elbows, granting you as much room as possible to do whatever you want as he stares down his body at you. The rhythmic bobbing of your head hypnotizes him, forcing him to fight demons against the urge to wrap a hand in your hair so he has a better view of your mouth working his cock. He thanks himself for having the foresight to at least ask you to take your top off this time, allowing him the pleasure to view the long muscles along your spine flexing, only obstructed by the band of your bra.

You’re the goddess of his dick and Dokyeom is an avid worshiper.

The first and only time he received head involved too much weed (both of them), teeth (hers), and tears (his) for him to enjoy any of it. It had been so unpleasurable he had avoided doing anything since in fear of repeating the experience. 

You, however, make him regret not finding you on campus sooner. The genuine enthusiasm and enjoyment that radiates off you as you play with him has an orgasm tumbling towards him faster than he wants. When Dokyeom tries to inform you, hoping you’ll find a way to help him hold off, gasping your name and a broken “I’m gonna;” you respond with a delighted hum and work him harder.

“Holy shiii—,” he whines as you give a particularly harsh suck as he slides further in your mouth, tip nudging the back of your throat softly. A moan of your own shooting pleasurable snaps down his wrecked nerves.

He’s done for when your eyes peek open and find his.

Every muscle in his body clenches, his hips bucking up into your mouth despite his effort to remain grounded. Ears filled with the sound of his blood rushing, eyes squeezed tight. He knows he’s blabbering whatever praises have sat on the tip of his tongue since you started between deep desperate groans, but Dokyeom can’t hear a single thing. All he can focus on is how his cum shoots into your waiting mouth as you continue pumping him till his balls are empty.

You swallow his load with ease, popping off his dick to allow your tongue to dart and catch the dribble at the corner of your lips. If that’s how good it's gonna be everytime, Dokyeom is afraid he might fall in love with you from a simple blowjob.

“Good?” You ask with a cheeriness that seems a little out of place given that you’ve sucked his soul out.

Dokyeom’s brain function borders non-existent so he just grunts an affirmation from where he’s crashed on the sheets of his bed, tossing an arm over his eyes as he comes back to earth.

Your giggling has him cracking open his eyes lazily to find you resting your chin on his muscular thigh, smile wide, dangerously close to his softened cock.

“Are you the dick whisperer or?” 

More giggles answer him. You think it's cute how clearly spent he is, not bothering to hide how you affect him, no bullshit bravado some other guys try to pull. 

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” You coo.

“Well that was the best blowjob I’ve ever had.”

“My only competition is a girl from two years ago, but I’ll take it.”

You hop up next to him on the bed, lying parallel to his body as a comfortable silence settles between you. His eyes follow the steady rise and fall of your chest, gaze locked on how your boobs push against the thin fabric of your bra. Dokyeom just makes out the edges on what must be your stiff nipples poking through the cup. It makes him salivate.

“Can I try?” 

“Try what?” You ask, turning your head to look at his face.

Dokyeom rolls over, propping himself up on an elbow to loom over you. His nose traces your jaw, unable to keep his hand from moving across the plane of your belly, thumb burning against bare skin as it dips below the elastic waistband of your leggings.

“Wanna eat you out.” 

The gentle kiss he places under your ear is answered with stuttering breath and a subtle nod.

“Should I,” he swallows thickly. “How should I start?”

“Kissing is good.”

His lips leave a trail of gentle pecks across your cheek to your mouth. When your mouths meet, twin sighs leave your noses. You weren’t lying to him when you told him he was a good kisser. 

The hand that was tracing the hollow of your hip moves up to your jaw, caressing your cheek and allowing Dokyeom to move your head where he wants it. He tilts your chin up, dragging the tip of his tongue against your plush lower lip. Your mouth opens slightly, allowing wet muscles to meet tentatively. 

The vibration of your moan against his lips has his head dipping away.

“Good?”

You mutter a breathless “yes” into his mouth, missing his touch immediately. Your hands plant on the sides of his face, dragging him back in.

You both continue lazily, content in the way your lips meet and hands memorize the other's features. But Dokyeom longs to learn the ins and outs of your body, hoping he can make you feel at least a fraction of the pleasure you've gifted him twice now.

When he tries to disconnect your lips this time, you chase him. Pulling him back in with a maddening drag of teeth, followed by the dull sting of your nails against his shoulder. Your free hand moves his from your jaw down to your chest, giving him an encouraging squeeze to start playing with you.

Hesitating, his large palm gently fondles your breast, thumbing the edge of the lacy fabric hiding you from view. He isn’t doing much other than letting the weight of it settle in his hand. When you break away your gaze to watch his reaction, Dokyeom’s face is set in determination.

“You can do more.”

At your permission he gives a gentle squeeze, it’s sweet but not what you need. 

“Like this.”

Gently brushing him away, you flip the cup of your bra down to expose yourself to the chill of the air. Dokyeom eyes follow with rapt attention, hypnotized by the swell of your chest and the contrasting skin. He stares as you grab his hand again, moving it back to cup your breast. From the gaps between his fingers, ribbons of your flesh are still visible. When the calloused side of his thumb rolls across your nipple this time, you shudder.

“If you want,” you gasp, “you can use your mouth.”

That was all he needed to dive for your chest. Immediately opening his mouth to cover your areola, sucking with too much enthusiasm.

“Wait!” You wince, shoulders caving inward at the zap of discomfort.

Dokyeom jumps back like he’s burnt, terrified expression blooming on his features. 

“It’s okay! But you need to build up to it, ya know?”

“Like how?” 

“Kiss my neck, keep using your hands. But make me want it first and it’ll feel a lot better.”

“Make you…want it? But can’t I just give it to you?”

“Think of it like…” you rack your brain, but when the flex of his biceps catch your eye you continue. “when you workout! You need to warm up first or you’ll get hurt, right?”

“Yeah?” he questions, still unsure.

“So you gotta warm me up first. Just start gently and then… you can get a little rougher.”

“Okay, okay.” He mutters to himself. “Gentle then rough, make you want it. Got it.”

He moves his face back to your chest, rubbing his lips across the smooth skin at the hollow of your throat. Letting his tongue dip out, Dokyeom etches a scorching path along the dips and curves of your chest. He tentatively covers your bare breast with his hand again, squeezing gently while his thumb catches your sensitive nub.

“Much better,” you sigh dreamily, entranced by the featherlight touches he’s teasing along your skin.

“Can I take your bra off?” 

His question is barely intelligible since he mutters it into your skin, around his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

Without a word, you arch up and move your hands behind your back. One day he’ll insist you teach him to take it off himself but right now he zeros in on the way you’re pushing into his mouth as the fabric falls limp around your chest, exposing more soft skin for him to explore. You shuck the offending garment off your body, and toss it over the side of his bed. 

Completely bare from the waist up under him, Dokyeom props himself up to catalog the masterpiece that is you. Hair spread across his sheets beneath you, a few rogue tendrils twist below your chin and tickle your neck. Eyes hooded lowly, pupils blown wide. There's a faint blush spreading across your cheeks and down your front, making your skin glow mesmerizingly; and your lips, bruised and swollen, are parted around your shallow pants. 

Yeah, he can definitely get used to seeing you like this.

“What?”

“You’re just… wow.”

“Wow?”

“You’re half naked in my bed after destroying my dick, please be nice to me.”

You respond with a shy smile as you drag him back in. He leaves more kisses across your face and down your chin before getting back to work.

Experimenting, Dokyeom finds your tit. His teeth graze against the puckered bud sucked into his mouth, nipping it gently before laving his tongue across the sore flesh soothingly. He’s rewarded with an agonizing grind of your hips against his thigh, savoring the scalding heat of your pussy through the thin fabric separating you. 

“Again.” You tell him.

So he does.

He memorizes every dreamy sigh, satisfied moan, and sobbed hiccup released from your mouth. He also memorizes exactly what he does to deserve them. You like when he darts the tip of his tongue out to guide himself from one area to the next. Huffing when he blows a cool stream of air on the wet trail, giving rise to a litter of goosebumps. If he scratches his teeth on the more sensitive skin of your nipples or underside of your breast, you’ll hiss a sharp breath and twist your fist in the sheets beside you, back arching for more. If he plays with both of your nipples simultaneously, engulfing one between his lips and lapping with his tongue while his hand pinches and pulls the other, you’ll tremble in his hold and cry his name hoarsely.

He really likes that one. 

“Good?”

You’d think he was teasing if it wasn’t for the trickle of insecurity that seeps into his voice. 

“Great,” you praise, eyes shut against the pleasure you’re receiving. “You should take my pants off.”

“Really?”

“Want you to see how wet you made me.”

He chokes on his own saliva, coughing against you.

“Are you okay?”

His eyes are watering and his face is red as he catches his breath. 

“Oh my god!” Your eyes go wide with worry.

When he finally calms himself, he pins you with a stern look.

“You can’t just,” he huffs. “say stuff like that.”

“Like what? That you’re making me horny?”

“Exactly like that! God, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“So you don’t wanna hear how much I want you to fuck me?” You whisper in his ear, lips dragging against the sensitive shell of his ear.

“No,” he swallows, your words decimating his brain and all common sense. “I do, I just, fuck.”

The last word he groans in response to you stuffing his hand between your spread thighs. The crotch of your leggings are soaked, clinging to the lips of your pussy thanks to your previous movement against his leg.

“Can you feel it?” You pant in his ear. “How wet I am for you?” 

The dirty words strike a cord. He did this; his kisses and caresses teased so much of your arousal of you that it’s leaking through your panties, past your leggings to soak his fingers.

Eyes drifting shut to focus on the slick coating his palm, Dokyeom lets his hand dip lower to push against where he thinks your clit is. The pads of his finger ghosting a tight circle of the digit at the top of your mound. His chest threatens to burst with pride when your hips stutter into his palm.

“Please,” you whimper.

It breaks his heart to remove his hand but he aims to make up for it by stripping off your pants in a rush. Dokyeom nearly rips the material apart when it catches around your thighs but he uses his strength to lift your hips, pushing them down your legs and off you like he has a personal vendetta against them. Your underwear comes off as well, tossed over his shoulder next to your forgotten bra and shirt.

Dokyeom lies between your splayed legs, chest flat with the bed as his hands hook under your knees and push your legs up to spread you before him. Your inner thighs are glistening, smeared with your own arousal that leaks from your cunt, lips swollen and flushed, clit peeking out from under your mound. A wet spot darkens the fabric of his sheets below you, increasing in size as your entrance squeezes around nothing. His nose is full of your heady scent, mouth watering for a taste.

He dives in while his brain sings his new life motto: gentle then rough, make you want it. Gentle then rough, make you want it.

Using his knowledge of what worked well on your chest, he blows a cool breath against your hot center. Dokyeom watches as you mewl above him, head falling back as your spine arches. Barely there kisses tease the sensitive skin of your thigh next to his head, punctuated by sharp nips of teeth leaving bruises blooming bright red in their path.

Dropping his hands from your knees but leaving your legs on his shoulder, he uses his thumbs to spread you apart, granting him unobstructed access to your most sensitive parts. He feels like a pervert; a voyeur, staring in awe at the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen. He knows he’s only seen one in real life (yours) but no one else’s will ever compare. 

Once Dokyeom has taken his fill, and you’re at your wits end above him, he uses the tip of his tongue to score a path from your dripping hole to your clit; moaning at the taste covering his tongue.

“More!” you whine from above, voice thick want.

“You said to make you want it.” He rasps, face still buried between your legs, mapping every ridge and dip.

“I do!”

“Let me play with it.” 

Dokyeom signs his requests with a firm lick to your clit against the flat of his tongue.

“Ahh!” You croak, convulsing from the sudden simulation. One hand flying to his hair to keep him in place.

Dokyeom is all too happy to continue, lapping indecently at your pussy. In his opinion, feeling your essence coat his chin and cheeks as he works you is almost as satisfying as having his cock in your mouth. Seeing you get off above him clicks why you were so enthusiastic when the roles were reversed. He could live and die eating your pussy without complaint.

The rush of pleasure has your thighs attempting to crush his skull. When he pulls your legs apart brutishly you arch again, turned on at the thought of him using his muscles to pin you down and leave you at his mercy. He folds you in half easily, hands pushing the back of your thighs up and out his way.

Since his hands are occupied with pinning your legs in place, one of you attempts to assist him. The hand not fisted in his hair shoots to your pussy, spreading your lips for him and directing him to your clit. Dokyeom doesn’t hesitate to tease your nub framed between your fingers. The occasional brush of his drenched lips or pointed tongue against your hand makes your head fuzzy.

Dokyeom feels you snatch one of his hands away from your leg, pulling it to your face. You suck two of his slender fingers into your mouth, moaning when they press down on your tongue causing you to drool around them. Dokyeom opens his eyes to gape at the vulgar display, hips twitching against the bed when your eyes meet his.

Holy shit.

He’s torn between wanting to stretch you open around the digits you're currently lapping at and letting you continue, imagining it's his cock between your lips. Fortunately for you he doesn’t ponder his choice for too long. Pulling his hand away, his eyes stay trained on yours as he reaches under his own chin to circle your hole. The mix of saliva and the juices of your pussy let him slide in easy enough, silky inner muscles eager to pull him deeper. 

“Spit on it,” you beg, eyes glassy.

He swallows harshly. If he was capable of any thought other than how sexy you are, he’d kick himself for how he let your first time together play out. Virginity be damned, he could have cum from this alone.

Dokyeom is more than willing to give you whatever you desire so he pulls away just enough to spit harshly on your clit, watching the bead race to where his fingers spread you, allowing it to disappear inside the rim of your entrance as he pumps his arm. He fumbles to reattach his mouth to your clit, lashing against the nerves as he stuffs you full; desperate to have you come on his face.

You're a moaning mess above him, hair matted to your sweaty forehead, hands threatening to rip the sheets apart as you fist them. 

“Give me another one,” you instruct, immediately granted your wish.

All you can do is gawk at Dokyeom below you as he brings you to your end with embarrassing speed. Every muscle in your body is pulled taunt, threatening to break any second as tears fill your vision. Your orgasm right there but just out of reach. But when you catch the way Dokyeom is humping against the bed, you snap. You don’t care that his roommate might still be home as you throw your head back with a sob, tears spilling down your face as endorphins blaze through your veins. Your mind is incinerated, vision filled fuzzy with fireworks. You can’t breathe as you gush into his mouth, thighs locked around his head and threatening to suffocate him.

To his credit, Dokyeom doesn’t stop despite the way you thrash below his mouth. If anything, his efforts increase, only encouraged by your shaky moans and shaker thighs. He snags both your ankles in one palm, stretching your legs up and over his head as far as can before pushing them back into your chest to twist you in a V. You get impossible tighter with the shift as he continues to stuff your clenching entrance while he licks your clit, a mess of spit and arousal pooling between your cheeks. You have to pull him away by his hair, interrupted several times by him diving back in to suck up your juices, fingers pushing more and more out of you to drip down his wrist. When you whine and tell him it's too much he finally relents with a gentle kiss and one last thrust before releasing your legs and resting his cheek on your thigh.

You both lay there in silence, panting against one another. Dokyeom kisses back up to your face, dropping sweet pecks to the tops of your thighs, across your hip bones to your belly button where he lets his nose trace up to your sternum and finally to your chin. When you open your eyes you find him staring at you sleepily.

“Hi,” he says, voice thick.

“Hi,” you smile.

He dips to press one last kiss to your lips before pulling you into his arms, pillowing your head on his bicep and brushing his other hand through your tangled hair. He ignores the way his sticky cock throbs against his leg, focusing on caring for you rather than himself.

“Good?” He mumbles against your forehead, lips resting on your hairline.

“I think you’re lying about never having done that before.”

“Scouts honor, you’re the first.”

“Honored. Glad our first tutoring session was so successful.”

First? He thinks. 

“There’ll be more?”

“Well, yeah,” you whisper, suddenly bashful in case he’s no longer interested.

“Sweeeeeet!” he whoops.

You roll your eyes at his boyish response but feel yourself smile anyway. If he can learn to fuck you as well as he eats you out then you’re in for a ride.

[ghost-proofbaby]

I literally love your work and this 3k celebration is absolutely GENIUS so can I please get a filthy martini with Steve Harrington? Can it be enemies with benefits(also hate fucking? I blame you for this new trope obsession bc 24 hours GOT ME FERAL)?

nonnie i love you this is the such an incredible request i can only hope i did it justice oh my GOD

come party with me!

sweet like honey (steve harrington x fem! reader)

warnings: smut, p in v, mean steve sort of if you squint?, oral f receiving, talk of unprotected sex, cnc hickies? is that a thing? she says no and then he does it anyway?, arguing over using protection (steve says he'll convince her to not use it next time, but they use it this time!), not edited, minors dni

You hate him. You swear it to yourself, to your friends, to your own mother who sometimes points him out at sport events or at the local grocery store. You hate Steve Harrington. Simple as that. 

But maybe, just maybe, it isn't as simple as that. 

Because you hate him, yes - to your very core -  but you still always end up here. You still answer when he texts you in the middle of the night, you still meet him at your spot at the park that serves as a halfway point between your house and his, and you still end up in his lap in the backseat of the BMW his daddy bought for him. 

“This is the last time, Harrington,” you murmur through fervent kisses as you sit as comfortably as possible in his lap, “I mean it.”

He pulls back with that boyish grin that you absolutely despise, tightening his grip on your hips as his head tilts, “Of course, honey. Just like you said the last two times, right?” 

You don’t offer him an answer, instead plunging back in for a biting kiss. You imagine that if you take his bottom lip between your teeth hard enough, if you bite down with the right pressure, he’ll bleed. And the thought of tasting Steve Harrington’s blood across your tongue is more exciting than you care to admit. 

“Yes, but I really do mean it this time,” you insist against his mouth, your hangs tangling against the roots of his hair. Your goal is to mess it up, to rake through the product and all the time you know he spends in the mirror each morning, and ruin it. 

He only hums in response and urges you down onto his lap harder, the bulge confined in his jeans pressing into you more noticeably. 

“Hard already?” you tsk, rolling your hips harder against him, eliciting a load moan from his lips.

He’s just so easy. Maybe that’s why you keep coming back for more. 

“God, just shut up,” he gasps against you, moving his mouth along your jaw and neck. 

He starts to suck hard on your sweet spot, which in return makes you tug sharply on his hair. Hard enough to make him hiss in pain, “No fucking marks, how many times do I have to tell you?” 

“I know,” he says, clearly not knowing, as he continues to chuckle and trace his finger along the junction of your neck and shoulder, “But imagine just how pretty you’d look, all marked up by me.” 

“And imagine how pretty you’d look with your head between my thighs, not fucking talking,” you remark back. 

No marks. Because if he left a mark, then people might know. And you’d rather die than have anyone find out you had been fucking around with Steve Harrington the last two months. 

Steve suddenly maneuvers the two of you so that you’re laid out across the seat, fitting himself between your legs with clear practice. The two of you have been in this backseat more times than you can count, and have learned your way around the confinement of it all. 

He pushes up the flimsy sleep shorts you’d worn out, bunching them at the top of your thighs as far as they will go as he places kisses up your inner thigh, starting at your knee, “I know you said no marks, sweetie,” his tone is laced with condescending confidence, teeth nipping at the soft skin as he looks up at you, “But what about here, hm? Where no one can see them? Do we have a deal?” 

He’s going to get his way. He always knows he can get his way when he starts to soften you up like this, one hand gripping your knee and already guiding it over his shoulder as the other trails beneath the waistband of the shorts and draws circles on your hip. 

“If anyone can see them, Harrington, I’ll-”

“Kick my ass,” he finishes your sentence for you, already moving to nuzzle his nose into your thigh, “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before, babe.” 

He sucks and nips immediately at your makeshift permission, his saliva glistening against the purple bursting to life on your skin in the shape of his lips. 

“Lay off the nicknames,” you sigh, throwing your head back as his moves to make a second mark, higher up and closer to where you ache for him, “Or I will go back home and leave you with blue balls.”

His chuckle vibrates against your skin, eyes flicking up towards you. It’s a shame he’s such an absolute dick, because he looks pretty from here. Hair messed up as you intended, pupils blown wide, lips nearly magnetic against you as if he can’t get enough.

“Oh, honey, you wouldn’t,” he taunts, finally sitting up, beginning to take off your shorts, “We both know you don’t mean it, do you? You can threaten me all you want, but you still come back every,” your shorts are off, and he pauses to lean down and bite at your hip now before continuing, “single,” he moves to the other hip, sucking hard, leaving a weaker shade of violet in his path, “time.” 

You don’t reply as you whine out, hips bucking up, encouraging him to get it over with. To put his mouth where you need it most. To stop with his incessant cooing and taunting and to just fuck you with his tongue. 

He gets the message fairly clearly through his thick skull. 

And you like him best like this, quiet as he slides your panties to the side, tongue on your clit and already sliding his fingers into you, hellbent on unraveling you. He’s learned your body best at this point, knowing when to crook his fingers as he adds a second one, when to alternate between wrapping his lips around your clit to suck and using only the tip of his tongue to trace invisible shapes lost on you. He’s quiet, he’s as messy as a boy like him is capable of getting, and he knows.

But he’s eager. You’d say it’s his downfall, but you truly reap the benefits when he brings you right to the edge only to pull back and begin to make quick work of his own pants. He’s still in his jeans and polo, his work vest discarded in the front seat, his belt quickly joining it. 

You have no time to make another smart ass remark. No opportunity to poke fun at the way he bumps his head against the roof of the car or the way he struggles with his zipper a second longer than he should. Because once he’s gotten his cock out of his briefs, thick and pink and already leaking from the tip for you, he makes quick work to be inside you. 

“Condom,” you gasp out as his tip circles your interest, making him pause for the first time the entire night.

His eyebrows furrow, “You’re on the pill, yeah? We didn’t use one last time.” 

“My mistake,” you grit out, fighting the urge to just let him sink into you, to feel him stretch you in a way you both know only he can, “I know you’re fucking other girls. Wrap it, or I’m out, Harrington.” 

A sudden break of softness. In an instant, his teasing halts and he pulls back, looking at you with a hand still wrapped around his base, “I’m not fucking other girls.”

“What?”

“I said,” he leans down, warm brown eyes staring into yours, “I’m not fucking other girls. Only you. Only has been you since this entire thing started.” 

If you were an idiot, you’d read more into his words. You’d read into the fact that the town’s womanizer, Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, has taken himself off the market for you. You’d think about it the rest of the night, your entire way back home, fantasize about it as you closed your eyes and begged for sleep. 

But you’re not an idiot. So you laugh at him. 

“Bullshit,” you say, maintaining eye contact, daring him into some unspoken war between the two of you. 

You watch as his jaw locks, his eyes set in stone, before he suddenly is fumbling around the car floor and producing his wallet. He pulls a condom from where it had been nestled between an abhorrent amount of cash, and he’s hasty in ripping it open.

“Fine,” he mumbles as he rolls the latex over his cock, “Fine. You want me to wear a condom, sweet thing? I’ll wear a condom. But I’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll be begging me to go raw next time.” 

Your stomach clenches, your core flutters. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and you’re already reconsidering your insistence.

“Consider it a challenge, Harrington.” 

When the stretch finally comes, you’re preening into him, back arching and legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. He’s harsh now in his actions, hardly allotting time to adjust once he bottoms out before he pulls back and repeats the motion, slamming into you harder the second time. 

He finds his rhythm quickly; he knows what you like. He knows that you want it rough, that you want him to destroy you from the inside out. Your nails claw at him through the cotton of his shirt, and you consider the ramifications if you were to tear through the fabric, leave holes and make the shirt unrecognizable. 

Mommy and daddy would probably buy him a new one. 

Your fingers dig in deeper at the thought. 

“This good, yeah?” he asks, snapping his hips up into your hard enough to that your body shifts upwards, back burning from the rough tapestry of the seat and the top of your head banging into the car door, “You like it hard, don’t you, baby?” 

No words are formed, your mouth open as whines and moans alike tear from your throat, pulling him in closer. He dips his lips back down into your shoulder, placing messy kisses up to your throat. 

“You’re always such a good little slut for me, aren’t you? What would your mother think? What would your friends think?” he presses as a hand grips your bare thigh hard enough to leave marks, holding your leg even harder to his hips, “Going all cock drunk for Steve Harrington, the boy you hate.”

“Shut up,” you groan out, grabbing at his hair and pulling harshly, trying to lift his head from your throat. He doesn’t follow the pull of your hand. Instead, he bites down on the skin he was previously kissing innocently against.

He leaves a mark. You know he does. But all you're capable of is a pathetic whine as your pussy flutters around him, sucking him deeper into you. 

“Fucking knew it,” he mumbles against the skin before his tongue lathes over the spot that still stings, “Fucking knew you loved being marked up, baby. Tried to stop me all this time because you knew you loved it so much.” 

“Steve,” you beg as your head hits the door yet again from the force of another thrust.

He slows his movements, head lifting to take in your features. Your teary eyes, your heaving chest to match his own, “Fuck, too hard?”

You breathlessly laugh, shaking your head, pressing your heel into his lower back, “Harder. Please.” 

Those two words are all it takes. Something snaps inside of Steve right there, in his backseat, you a writhing mess beneath him as his jeans continue to slip down his thighs. Your pleads are his command; he offers the smallest of mercies by moving a palm to protect the top of your head before his thrusts turn animalistic. 

He’s pounding into you as if his life depends on it, as if your pussy is a warm and wet savior he had sought out for years. The surrounding windows begin to fog over as he presses his sweaty forehead to yours, swallowing each of your mewls in exchange for guttural moans of his own. Your pussy clenches down on him, hard, and it does nothing to slow his pace. 

“Fuck,” you call out, back arching further. His hand trails below you and settles into the curve of your lower back, pressing you up against him further as he continues. “Oh my God, don’t stop. Please, fuck- Don’t stop. Please, please.”

Steve laughs lowly at your babbling, “I’m not, sweetheart. I’m not. Let go.” 

Just like that, you feel the pleasure heat up your core, molten between your hips as you feel every inch of him continue to stretch your walls. His hips begin to stutter as you tighten around him, crying out as the coil tightens to it’s breaking point. It overflows from you, whimpers and cries alike as he kisses them away with clashing lips and teeth. The waves of euphoria are still consuming you and dragging you under when he suddenly stiffens, stilling deep inside of you and collapsing down on top of your chest, groaning the loudest of the night between pants, his hand still curled into the small of your back. 

You suddenly wish you could feel his heat filling you. He was right - next time, there will be no condoms. You want to feel him, need to feel all of him. 

You both are quiet as you catch your breaths, neither saying a word as you come down from your highs. In a moment of innocent serenity, accidental peace amongst enemies, he presses his cheek against your sternum through your own shirt. You can feel his heart hammering in his chest against your torso. 

But the peace must end. Because you’re you, and Steve’s Steve, and the two of you can only fit together so effortlessly for so long.  He finally lifts his head, the devilish boyish grin returning, as he asks, “So, same time tomorrow, honey?”

[pomefioredove]

new fav twst fic author just dropped lmao I love you sm 😂 💕

btw can I ask for an angsty fic abt reader being scared of falling in love w someone? yk like instead of butterflies in their stomach, it feels bad, demeaning and gross? like, in the end they don't realize they're in love bc of how afraid it makes the reader, but ends up sucking it up bc of a valuable friendship? yk, like love it-hate it?

but pick whichever character u want, feel like this would work out w a few of them 👀

thank you!! and OHHH I love this genre of angst... I'm very like this as a person. my immediate reaction was vil but I've done a similar prompt with him in the past so I'm branching out

summary: all is fair in love and war type of post: short fic characters: lilia additional info: ambiguously romantic, angsty, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu but kinda is?

Love and hate are emotions too close for comfort.

It's times likes these that remind you of why Aphrodite and Ares were always tangled in affair, why the hands of love and war fit so nicely together.

Red is the color of both romance and blood.

The heart doesn't distinguish between the heat of passion and the heat of battle, and there's really nothing quite pleasant about that feeling: it's sticky, uncomfortable, warm and wet, making a home in every divot of your skin. It dries on you like blood.

Sometimes, you wonder if being stabbed would be easier.

After all, physical pain, perhaps, is preferable to the dizzying sensation of a beating heart, so noticeable that you can almost taste it from the back of your throat.

...This unwelcome, intrusive feeling, a thief in the night, a sudden loud noise, something that no amount of deep breathing and waiting can seem to quell.

It's not so much longing as it is torture.

You resent yourself for feeling this way. For the way your stomach turns, as if sick, every time you see him.

For the way you can't seem to stop thinking about it, about him, about every little thing he does, about every little question he leaves you with. It's a form of obsession, though one you struggle to resist.

Some days you fantasize about interrogating him until he explains all that he is, so that you might understand why it's him, of all people, him.

But that would never work.

Lilia Vanrouge enjoys keeping the fine print to himself, always leaving you guessing, always leaving you hungry for more. He does it on purpose, he knows, but he enjoys playing this game of cat and mouse far too much to ever finish the kill.

...At first, you did see it as a sort of game. Now, it feels more like a trap, and one that you so eagerly and stupidly walked into.

And yet, still, you can't find it within yourself to resent him. You can't find a way to accuse him of sorcery, of bewitching you, because you know, deep down, that this is your own doing.

You were the one who set the trap. Who started the war.

It was you, you, who blindly ran into battle, armed with nothing but your wits and the pit in your stomach. You were destined to lose from the beginning.

This... feeling. The one that makes your stomach turn, that makes you dizzy, that poisons your mind and senses and turns you stupid and hungry and obsessive, it's your own doing.

And you could just as likely kill it off, swing your blade of reason down on its sickly, thin neck and just be over with it.

But you won't.

And that's the other half of the battle.

For as much as it haunts you, as it tortures you, as it makes you toss and turn at night fantasizing about answers and wars and traps, you want to lose. You want to play this game with him.

Now, it's simply a question of who will strike the final blow.

[bella-rose29]

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 12

it's here everybody

I just want to say a HUGE thank you to everybody that has read and enjoyed along with me, whether that was in the form of reblogging with commentary, leaving a comment or kudos, or even if you just read it and moved on, and to everyone who binge read after the whole thing came out, or stumbled across it months after it finished, thank you to you too. this has most definitely been a labour of love, very self-indulgent at most points, and I have thoroughly enjoyed writing every word (although maybe not so much when Steph was being a grade-A Bitch), and I hope you enjoy this last part!

while the main work of this series is over, keep an eye out for holiday specials (bc I can't just let go of my schmoopies forever)!

Warnings: swearing, mildly spicy bit near the start, you might cry from this being the finale (I did lol), flustered/awkward lockwood, oh you also might cry from the part in the middle/end because I'm evil and can't let you have a fully happy ending (@ the anon who requested this hopefully this satisfied the masochistic urge hehehe), if I forgot anything it's bc I'm tired while I write this

Word count: 6.3k

series masterlist

“Are you sure you’ve got everything? It’s a long way to go if you leave something behind,” Ben said, peering in on Anthony and Y/n where they sat in their loveseat. 

They had packed pretty much everything but their wash bags (which they would need tomorrow morning) and pyjamas (which they would wear tonight), and now they were cuddled up in front of the fire that was roaring in the hearth. “Yeah, I think so. I’ve checked and double checked so if we leave anything behind then we’ll just have to make do.” Her father nodded, smiling at them before ducking back out the room. Everybody else was gathered in the kitchen, making drinks and getting dinner (leftovers and an assortment of deli), which meant that Y/n and Anthony had the living room to themselves. “You alright?” she asked, voice quiet. He hummed in answer, the low sound vibrating in his chest and through her head where it laid on his shoulder. 

“I’m more than alright, darling. Looking forward to being home again, though. Not that I haven’t enjoyed the last few days,” he hurried to add. “I just miss sleeping in my own bed.”

“I get that.” There was a momentary lull in the conversation, both of them basking in the warmth of the fire and each other. “Wait. I feel like we should probably… talk about when we get back? And what… what we’re going to do about…” she trailed off, waving her free hand between them. 

“No, you’re right. We should… we should definitely talk about that.” Another lull, although this one was slightly more tense. “I mean-” Anthony cut himself off with a huff, and she felt him clench his jaw from where she was nestled underneath it. “If you wanted, you could move out of the attic? Obviously if you’d rather stay rooming with Lucy then that’s fine too, I just-”

“Where would I go if I wasn’t in the attic?” She cut him off when he started to ramble, lifting up her head to frown at him. He flushed a delightful pink that wasn’t too dissimilar from the socks he had on, and opened and closed his mouth a few times before turning even more red and answering. 

“In… in my room? It’s a big bed, although not quite as large as the one here, and I’ve got extra pillows if you wanted. But if you would rather stay upstairs then that’s fine too.” He was fidgeting, his leg bouncing and his tongue darting out to wet his lips, and Y/n smiled softly. 

“If you’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t mind, darling.” The blush stayed on his cheeks but his worry eased. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want you there.”

“Then… when we get back tomorrow, can I just go straight to bed with you?”

“Absolutely,” he grinned, and she couldn’t help but mirror his smile, pressing a small kiss to his lips. 

“Ew, go suck faces somewhere else.” Y/n rolled her eyes at Will’s teasing tone, flipping her middle finger up at him and putting it away swiftly when Tom walked in, already snacking on the food on his plate. She hadn’t heard Will come in, which was quite the feat given how loudly he was chewing, but he was smiling behind his comments as he settled into an armchair. He was ecstatic that he could openly tease his younger sister now (much to her chagrin) and had wasted no time in doing so. “Bet you two are glad you’re going home?”

“Yeah. It’ll be nice to be back in London, I think,” she replied, shifting around in Anthony’s lap to face the room a little more. “And I miss the others. I did call George the other day after we booked our train tickets, just to let him know what was happening and when we’d be back, but the reception is so bad up here that contacting any of the others has been tricky.” Lucy had been somewhere near them visiting Norrie, but her signal had been awful too. Y/n hadn’t seen the point in calling when mostly it was just static. 

“I didn’t realise you’d called George,” Anthony said. 

“Oh, yeah. I knew he’d be at Portland Row so I figured I should let him know why we weren’t there. He said he wasn’t gonna spend the entire holiday with his family because of the whole ‘your siblings are engineers, so why aren’t you’ thing that always happens.” George had been the first friend that Y/n had opened up to, despite sharing a room with Lucy. They had been researching for a case together in the Archives late into the night, early on after Y/n had first joined the agency, and something about the calm atmosphere and rustle of the papers had meant that when George asked about her backstory in a tea break she had spilled it all. Lucy had been next, also late at night while the boys were on their own case, and Holly not too long after. But George had been the first, and the two of them had been close ever since. He’d opened up to her about his own family, and they’d found they had more in common than they had originally thought. 

“Well, it’s a good job you called. I imagine he would have been quite worried about us.”

“Us? No, George was definitely only worried about me. He didn’t once ask about you.”

“Rude.”

“I’m just telling the truth, it’s not my fault your ego can’t handle it,” Y/n teased. Anthony scoffed, fighting the smile that was breaking through. 

“Sure, Schmoopie.” Her responding glare would have been enough to make even Barnes shrink back, but Anthony could see that it lacked any heat when directed at him. 

He did yelp when she jabbed him in the side though, and her grin turned devilish. 

~~~

The next morning, Anthony was awake before Y/n was. 

At some point in the night she had obviously grown cold, as the duvet was bunched up more on her side than it was his, leaving most of his body out in the not-so-warm air of the bedroom. He didn’t mind, though. Not if it meant that she was happy. 

He didn’t often get the chance to admire her in the morning, not without her knowing he was doing it (not in a creepy way, it just meant that he often got caught and she often made fun of him), so he took his time now. 

He didn’t think he would ever get over how gorgeous she was. 

There was barely any light in the room, but from what little he could see she looked like an angel, especially in the t-shirt of his that she kept stealing. He didn’t mind that either, mostly because somehow she made it look so much better than he ever could. Anthony wasn’t a fool (although given his behaviour over the past few years there was definitely a strong argument against him), and he was well aware that Y/n knew the effect her wearing his clothes had on him. He’d had to excuse the two of them the other day when she’d come downstairs for breakfast wearing his grey hoodie and her pyjama shorts, and when they reemerged from their room nobody commented on the flushed faces or the messy hair of either of them (Y/n had stayed in the hoodie, too). She’d teased him mercilessly since finding out, and now he finally had an opportunity to gaze lovingly at her without her poking fun at him. 

“Morning.” Damn, he must have cursed himself and made her wake up. 

“Good morning, darling.” He smiled at her, wedging his arm under his head while he watched her wipe the sleep from her eyes and turn to face him. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Yeah. Like a log. You been awake long?” She reached out for his hand where it rested on the pillow between them, and he gladly let her thread her fingers through his. 

“Not really. Any good dreams?” There was a pause where she flushed, and Anthony’s curiosity only grew when she shook her head. 

“Not… not that I can think of.” She was avoiding his eyes, which meant she was lying. He smiled, huffing a laugh before shifting his weight. 

“Are you sure, darling?”

“Prick.” He laughed properly at that and propped himself up on an elbow. Y/n had covered her face with her hands to hide the rapidly growing flush, and she was shrinking further into the mattress with every passing second. “It wasn’t even- we were just, like… in a field.”

“What?”

“We were just having a picnic in a field. It was sweet.” She still hadn’t moved her hands so Anthony had to strain a little to hear what she was saying, but the amusement was very present in his voice when he next spoke. 

“So why are you acting like we were doing something else?” There was another pause, and he raised his eyebrows. “Were we doing something else?”

“It might… have ended up that way…”

“I see,” he said, moving again to prevent the arm under his head from falling asleep. Instead of lying back down, however, he pushed himself further up, placing one hand beside Y/n’s head and the other at her waist, slotting a leg between her thighs. He felt her shiver in response, and he gently pried her hands away from her face, lacing his fingers through hers and holding their joined hands in position on the other side of her head. 

“Anthony,” she whispered, lifting her hips a little and brushing her nose against his. 

“Yes?” He could feel her breath on his mouth, could feel it hitch when he let go of her hand to trail his own down her arm slowly, then tracing a path down the side of her body to her thigh. She didn’t answer him, instead reaching up to grab the back of his neck, tangling her fingers in the hair there (god, he loved it when she did that) and kissing him in a way that reminded him of honey. It was long and slow, both taking their time to bask in each other, although if she kept tugging lightly at his hair in the way that she was then he might have to speed the pace up a little. It was ridiculous, the power she held over him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. If she was an angel, then he would gladly fall into hell a million times over for this little piece of paradise he was experiencing right now. 

He wasn’t sure how long they were there for, kissing, laughing softly when the t-shirt got stuck around her head, tangling limbs but never taking it further than a few bold touches just in case someone walked in with the morning tea, but it felt like barely a few seconds and eternity at the same time. 

When Ben did eventually knock on the door, Anthony went to answer, collecting the teas with a smile and a thank you before kicking the door closed. He smiled down at Y/n where she lay in bed, eyes closed to the light of the lamp that had just been flicked on, and planted a lingering kiss on her forehead. The action had her smiling immediately, and Anthony felt his heart jump in his chest. 

They spent most of the next hour lazing in bed, trading more kisses and soft touches before their stomachs started complaining and they were forced to get up and have breakfast. 

A million times, Anthony mused as he watched Y/n get stuck in her (his) jumper. A million times and more, and he had definitely fallen for her already. 

~~~

“Alright, you’re absolutely sure you have everything?”

“Yes, Mum, just like I was the previous six times you asked.”

“I just want to be sure! Who knows when we’ll next see you!” The statement hung in the air for a few seconds, the words sinking in and nestling into everybody’s minds. 

“Soon,” Y/n said, her tone decisive. “As long as Steph and Linda aren’t there.”

“I think I can live with that,” her mother grinned. Anthony and her father had been pulling their bags out of the car and were just now rejoining the gathered family members. Her parents were here, as was Will, but everybody else had stayed behind. They had said their goodbyes back at the house, with promises of phone calls for Nana Jean and Gramps and games of whatever Tom liked the most when she next saw him. Olivia had pretended to be indifferent about her sister leaving, but had squeezed just that little bit tighter when Y/n had said that she really needed to go. Y/n had pretended not to notice the slight shine to Olivia’s eyes, opting to ruffle her hair and laugh instead. Sam and John had wrapped her in hugs so tight she thought she might pass out before even stepping foot outside the house, and had left one last remark of ‘if you hurt her, we’ll kill you’ with Anthony before waving them off cheerfully as though they hadn’t just threatened murder. 

“Right then, Squeak. How long ’till your train?” Will asked, placing an arm over her shoulders and drawing her into his side. 

“About thirty minutes?”

“Why do you always get here so early? You could have had another cup of tea!”

“Uh, no, we couldn’t. Have you got any idea how much can go wrong with trains?!” Will just laughed at her, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“You’re ridiculous, Squeak.”

“You love me anyway though.”

Their parents stepped over then, having finished talking to Anthony about… whatever they had been talking about (she had been too busy with her conversation with Will to hear), and wrapped her in a teary hug. “You promise you’ll come back sometime next year?” her mother choked out, pulling back and holding her daughter by the shoulders. 

“Promise, Mum.” Her father hugged her then, letting Will comfort Emma. 

“I love you, Y/n. You’ll call us too, won’t you?”

“Of course,” she replied, huffing a laugh. “I already said I would about a hundred times.”

“We’re just making sure! Right. Off you two go, then, or you’ll miss your train.”

“Ben, they’ve got half an hour.”

“I know that, Emma, but what if something goes wrong?”

“Dad, please don’t jinx it. I’ll let you know when we’re back, alright?” She moved away, grabbing the handle of her suitcase and frowning when she felt Anthony’s hand already there. “I can take my own luggage, Ant.”

He shrugged. “I know. But I’ve got two hands and you have the tickets.”

“Your logic doesn’t make much sense; I also have two hands. And anyway, you could have your bag and your ticket, and I could have mine!”

“Just- just let me take your luggage, darling.” How could she say no when he was looking at her like that? She relented her grasp on the handle, casting him a mock glare before turning to look at her family one last time. 

“Have a safe journey, you two,” her mother said with a smile. 

“Yeah, get back home safe,” Y/n responded, starting to move towards the station entrance. She could hear Anthony behind her, the suitcase wheels dragging on the concrete while his repurposed kit bag bounced against his side. 

“You alright?” he asked once they were on the train, bags safely stowed. 

“Yeah. Looking forward to being home again.” It was funny, really. The last time she had been on a train she would have scowled at herself for calling Anthony Lockwood’s house her home, but now here she was, doing it without a second thought. 

“What are we going to tell the others?”

“Well… it’ll be late when we get back, right? I mean it’s already three o’clock now and it’s getting darker, so maybe by the time we get in they’ll be in bed? Or on a case if they managed to get a client. We could just do what you said and see how long it takes them?”

“I think you coming out of my bedroom in the morning would be a pretty big hint, darling. But I do love a game,” he grinned, already thinking about their friends’ reactions. “How do we think they’re going to respond?”

“Not a clue. George will probably say ‘I told you so’ or something.”

“Was… was that meant to be an impression of George?”

“Yeah?”

“Darling, no offence, but I think you might be worse than me.”

“Arsehole.”

~~~

It was dark when they got back, although that wasn’t a surprise given it was the middle of winter. 

Anthony had unloaded the bags from the taxi, smiling and thanking the driver with both words and payment, and had turned around to see Y/n stood on the pavement. She looked exhausted, rubbing her eyes and yawning while she waited for him to finish up. The gate stood locked, and 35 Portland Row seemed empty, the windows as dark and grey as the sky. 

Weird, he thought. Maybe they’re out on a case.

He shouldered his bag and pulled up the handle on Y/n’s suitcase just as the last of the noise from the taxi leaving died off and the road went quiet. Then he heard a scream that was so piercing he dropped the luggage and clapped his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut as though it would save his hearing. A ghost? Only Visitors could make a sound that fear-inducing, and if the chill that crept along his spine was anything to go by he would need some sort of weapon. Maybe their best bet was to get inside the house, so he reached for his keys and tried to block out the screaming. 

His keys. 

Shit, where were his keys? He looked up to see if Y/n was alright, if she had maybe had the wise idea to remove herself from possible danger before he did, and his heart stopped in his chest. 

The gate was still closed, and 35 Portland Row still empty and cold. Somehow it felt a whole lot darker than it had just a few moments ago, and Anthony belatedly realised that it might have something to do with the rapidly spreading blue tinge on Y/n’s arm. He couldn’t see any Visitors nearby, or any death glows that might have been stepped on by either one of them to provoke an attack, but all of that had happened so fast that he didn’t have time to process any of it. “Darling? Darling look at me.” He couldn’t hide the tremor in his voice when he spoke, memories of another time a girl he had loved died in much the same way, and he refused to let that happen again. “Let’s get you inside, yeah? There’s some adrenaline shots in the hallway, I just need you to stand up for me, darling. Y/n, please. Please, just stand up.” Why was she so heavy? Why was he so heavy? Was this what dying felt like?

“Anthony?” 

Why did her voice sound so far away? No. He couldn’t let this happen. He tried to lift her again, but somehow she was even heavier than before. Maybe he was tired, or too weak. 

“Anthony, what’s going on?” Her face was blurring and he realised that it was because he was crying, but his hands were too weighted to lift and wipe the tears away. 

“I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice cracking. “I don’t know, darling. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You’ll be okay.”

“Anthony!” 

That had been louder, as though she were talking right into his ear, and he gasped for air and sat bolt upright. 

“Anthony, are you okay? You looked-”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, eyes blinking back the harsh light that threatened to turn him blind. 

“What are you sorry for?”

“I can’t… I can’t help you,” his breath was coming faster now, and vaguely he noted that there was someone nearby offering him water. His gaze was solely fixed on Y/n, though, and-

Wait. Hadn’t she been on the floor? Now she was on his left where before she had been on his right and in his arms, and her arms were the colour they always were, no blue tinge in sight. “Anthony, what were you dreaming about?”

He stared at her, partly in realisation that none of it had been real, but mostly in disbelief that she wasn’t dying in his arms in front of their home. “What?” The train carriage came back into focus, checkered seats and wooden table forming solid shapes in his line of vision. The view out the windows was barely visible from how dark it was. 

“You were asleep, and then you started… I don’t know. Twitching, I guess? And you were talking but I couldn’t make it out but you sounded really sad, and-” He cut her off by launching himself at her, wrapping his arms around her torso and burying his face in her neck and holding his breath. “Ant?” She paused, slowly bringing her own arms around him and shifting position so that she was more comfortable. “Are… are you breathing right now? I’m gonna need you to breathe for me, Ant, can you do that?”

He did, and immediately choked on a sob. It hadn’t been real, and she was alive. They sat there for a long time while he cried, and then even longer after his tears had subsided and he was just sniffling into her neck. He didn’t know whereabouts they had been when he first woke up, but Y/n finally moved him off of her the station before theirs. “Sorry, just need to shake my arm out. You’re heavier than you look, you know.” They both sat up, and Anthony went to take a tissue out of his coat pocket. “Here,” Y/n whispered, reaching up to wipe his face with her sleeve. Her hands were gentle, barely-there touches on his cheek, but Anthony needed more. He pushed her hand to his face, focusing on the pressure and the warmth of her skin, and the callouses that had built up from being an agent all these years. A few seconds later he felt her forehead against his, and her breath on his mouth (her breath was warm too), and her other hand slipping into his hair, holding him as close as possible. “You’re okay. It’s okay. We’ll be back soon, alright? I think it’s only about ten minutes until we get to our station and then we can call a taxi and go home.”

“Okay.” Whoever it was that had been offering water earlier had left the bottle on the table, and he reached for it now, twisting the cap and downing the liquid. “We’ll be careful once we get out though, right? Because it’s dark and there could be Visitors, and we don’t have our rapiers, and-”

“Anthony, we will be absolutely fine.” Her tone was firm and she pulled his chin up to stare directly in his eyes. “The taxi will drop us off right outside, and if you like I’ll take the keys and get the kettle on. Or you can do that and I’ll get the bags, or we can get our own bags and go up together. Whichever you feel most comfortable with, yeah?” When he nodded she sighed, letting go of his chin and holding his hand instead. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But if you do, I’m here, alright?”

“I know. Thank you.”

He didn’t let go of her hand until they were safely back in 35 Portland Row, front door shut and locked and bags in his room ready to be unpacked in the morning. 

~~~

Lucy Carlyle had had the best sleep of her life. 

She’d come back from seeing Norrie the day before, the freak snowstorm keeping her from getting back sooner, and the journey had been so horrific she’d passed out the moment she got into bed. Screaming children and drunk men had populated the carriage, creating so much noise that she hadn’t been able to go to sleep on the train, and she was starting to look like Lockwood with the bags under her eyes. 

Now it was nearly midday, and she had managed to crawl out of bed, sling on some clothes, and stumble down the stairs to put the kettle on for some tea. 

Given how late Lockwood and Y/n must have got back last night (it had been after her, and the clock in the hall had shown a time that was both far too late and far too early for her liking), she had been expecting them, as well as George, to be in bed. But then again Y/n hadn’t been in the attic with her when she’d woken up just now (although her vision had been rather blurry, so she totally could have missed a whole human being in the room), so maybe she was already downstairs?

What she hadn’t expected was walking in to the kitchen to see both Y/n and Lockwood having a normal conversation (well, as normal as conversations in this house could go, she was quite sure they were discussing frogs), in which neither of them was glaring or looking like they would commit a felony at any given moment. Lockwood was leaning back against the kitchen sink (looking very snug in his grey hoodie and comfy trousers), mug of tea in one hand while the other braced his weight on the counter, and he was chatting happily to Y/n (who was wearing what looked suspiciously like one of Lockwood’s jumpers). She was sat at the kitchen table, cupping her tea with both hands, and the smile on her face, Lucy realised with a start, was genuine. 

“… Morning?” She started, pushing the kitchen door open and moving further into the room, eyeing her friends. 

“Morning, Luce,” Lockwood replied, taking a large gulp of his tea. He didn’t seem fazed by the incredibly strange situation that was happening right now (was this some sort of a fever dream? Maybe she was hallucinating from sleep deprivation or something), and Lucy nearly poured the still-hot water on her hand instead of in the mug. “Sleep alright?”

“Uh… yeah. What time did you two get back last night?”

“Oh, I don’t even know,” Y/n started. “Definitely past two in the morning, but we were so tired we didn’t really look at the time.”

“Right.” There was a pause while Lucy finished making her tea, and as she took an experimental first sip she regarded them over the top of her drink. “So… Y/n. Did you just collapse on the sofa downstairs or something? I didn’t hear you come in last night.” The other girl froze for a moment, and if Lucy wasn’t a trained operative then she probably wouldn’t have noticed it since her panic was almost instantly replaced by forced calm. 

“Oh, uh…” she glanced at Lockwood, who made some sort of face in reply. “… no?”

“Huh, you must have been quiet, then. That or I was sleeping like a rock.”

“Sure,” Y/n said, a weird look on her face. She was smiling, but almost like she knew something that Lucy didn’t, and that puzzled her. A chuckle sounded from the corner of the room, and under a blue and white striped tea towel, Skull had woken up. 

“You’re really going to take that for an answer? She didn’t even pick one!” Lucy frowned, begrudgingly realising that Skull was right. Y/n hadn’t really answered her question, and what had happened at her parents’ house the last couple of weeks for her to stop trying to kill Lockwood by glaring at him? 

As nonchalantly as possible she asked “So you were quiet? Or was I sleeping like a rock?” 

“Um… I was quiet?” She didn’t sound very sure, and Lucy’s suspicion was growing at the same rate that Skull’s grin was. 

“I know for a fact she didn’t make it all the way up the stairs last night,” he said, some of the sludge in the jar forming comically large eyebrows that waggled around. Now that was interesting. Why would Y/n say she’d been quiet coming in if she had never come in in the first place? Lucy was just about to ask that very question when George trudged into the kitchen, oversized shirt thankfully covering what his lack of trousers didn’t. He pushed his glasses up his nose and squinting at the people gathered. 

“… What’s going on? Y/n’s not trying to murder Lockwood.”

“Why is that a thing?! I’m not always trying to kill him!”

“In fairness, it was a regular occurrence, dar-” Lockwood’s mouth snapped shut, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say. Lucy saw his jaw clench, unclench, then clench again while he flitted his eyes closed in some sort of silent prayer. 

“Yeah…” George said. “This is weird.” He stood at the head of the table, lifting a hand to scratch at his side like a monkey. “Dare I ask how your Christmas was?”

“I mean… Steph and Linda were there, but after I slapped Steph and Mum shouted at Linda they left.” Lucy stood straighter in shock, pushing off the counter she had previously been leaning on. George was similarly surprised, but Lockwood? Lockwood was grinning with pride. 

“You slapped your cousin?!” George exclaimed, a smile growing on his face. “Like, you properly hit her?!”

“I mean… yeah?” Y/n replied, taking a sip of tea. 

“It was awesome,” Lockwood added, and Lucy and George shared a look. 

“You think he would have said that before?” Skull piped up again. “I certainly don’t. Something happened while they were away, that’s for sure. And I know what it was!” He said the last part in a sing-song voice, face turning over in the jar. 

“Yeah, well you could just tell me,” Lucy muttered, drawing everyone’s attention. “Sorry. Skull’s talking.”

“Where’s the fun in that! Better to watch you figure it all out on your own!”

“Bastard.” 

George had started making his own tea, popping two slices of bread into the toaster and giving it a good whack when it didn’t immediately start working. Satisfied that his breakfast was underway, he busied himself with his drink. “So Y/n… how come your suitcase was in Lockwood’s room?” he questioned, turning and pushing his glasses further up his nose. Lucy tried to disguise her shock, but that resulted in a small smirk instead, her eyebrows rising while she regarded her friends. 

Lockwood answered. “She didn’t want to lug it all the way up the stairs, not with the time being what it was. It just… hasn’t been moved yet.” Y/n nodded, a little too enthusiastically, and cast a worried glance towards Skull. 

“So Y/n and her suitcase slept in Lockwood’s room?” George asked, still probing for answers. He had a little smile on his face, one of those ‘I figured it out’ ones that when she had first joined the agency, Lucy had mistaken for ‘I’m better than you’ smirks. She wasn’t far behind him, and if she hadn’t already figured it out then the reactions of Y/n and Lockwood were enough to confirm her suspicions. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Y/n said, sipping her tea. There was a brief pause in which Lockwood nodded, smiling softly at her, and then it set in. Lockwood looked like he had malfunctioned, the cogs in his brain turning but not producing any kind of reaction other than a blank stare with confused eyes. Y/n choked on her mouthful of tea, spitting some of it back out into the mug and resting it on the kitchen table while she coughed. Immediately Lockwood’s brain started functioning properly again, and he quickly put his own tea down and went to help Y/n, fussing over her like a worried parent. 

Skull was chuckling in the corner again, and Lucy couldn’t help but join in. George laughed too, his mirth only growing when Lockwood and Y/n turned and glared at him. “Alright,” Lucy started. “Why was Y/n sleeping with Lockwood?”

“I wasn’t sleeping with him!” the other girl spluttered, apparently thinking that Lucy had suggested that the pair of them had had sex, and George was now nearly doubled over with laughter. Lockwood smirked, and before Lucy could protest he was already opening his mouth. 

“I mean not last night, but there were plenty of times at your parents’ house where we-”

“OH MY DAYS NO, STOP-” Y/n got up, all but tackling Lockwood to the ground and slapping her hand over his mouth to prevent him from finishing his sentence. Lockwood went down like a sack of potatoes, and the ‘oof’ he let out on impact had made Lucy snort into her mug. “They don’t need to know that, idiot,” she whispered, but since sound echoed in the kitchen Lucy and George could still hear her, even after the toaster popped loudly. 

“How long have you two… been like this?” Lucy asked, waving her hand in their direction where they now laid on the floor. Lockwood tried to talk but Y/n’s hand was still firmly keeping his mouth shut, and while he was attempting to prise himself out of her grip she was apparently too strong. Lucy didn’t want to think about how much his jaw would hurt afterwards; she had had pillow fights with Y/n that had ended with trips to the medical cabinet because the pair of them got too ambitious with their hits. 

Y/n answered, still attempting to maintain some dignity. “On the floor? A few seconds-”

“Let me rephrase,” Lucy cut her off, putting her finished mug of tea down on the counter with a decisive thud. “How long have you two been together?” Y/n stilled, giving Lockwood time to wriggle out of her grasp and glance awkwardly between his gathered colleagues. He pushed himself to sit back against the kitchen cabinets, one arm resting outstretched on his knee while the other scratched at his neck. He was nervous, then. He looked like he wanted to answer, but he was still shifting his gaze between them all. 

“Uh…” Y/n started. There was a pause, and then she sighed. “Dammit.” She fished around in her pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled five pound note. Lucy frowned for a moment, wondering what the hell a fiver had to do with this situation, then huffed in surprise when it was passed very begrudgingly to Lockwood. He looked very pleased with himself, accepting the money without moving much, hand outstretched to catch the note between his index and middle fingers. 

“What was that for?” George asked, although he’d just taken a mouthful of his toast so it came out more muffled. 

“Lockwood said we wouldn’t last a day keeping it secret from you both, and I bet that we could.” Y/n shrugged, shuffling around on the floor to sit between Lockwood’s legs. He didn’t get the message at first, too busy stuffing the money into his hoodie pocket, but after a sharp jab to his thigh he moved, wrapping his arms around her waist and complaining when Y/n shoved her elbows into his middle. 

“I swear you do that deliberately,” he muttered, but there wasn’t any malice behind it like there would have been before the holidays. 

“I don’t! If you keep complaining about it then I will do it on purpose, dickhead.”

That was better. Lucy shuddered at the thought of the two of them being overly sickly sweet, all cuddles and pet names like ‘Sugar’ or ‘Schmoopie’, and was instantly glad that the competitive streak in them both had apparently stayed. It would be a lot easier to stomach living with a new couple if they weren’t being insufferably cute. 

“So… you bet on your own acting skills?” questioned George, finishing his slice of toast. “Seems a bit stupid, really. You’re both awful at acting.” Lockwood and Y/n stopped bickering, instead staring up at George in shared outrage. 

“How dare you! I’m a charades champion!”

“I can act, it’s Lockwood that’s the problem!”

They spoke at the same time, both pointing at Lockwood for their respective comments, and Y/n took a moment to take in what he’d said. “Charades champion?” she said, drawing out the syllables and turning slowly to look at him over her shoulder. “We already talked about this, Ant. Using props is cheating, so you lost every game you played!” Lucy frowned. ‘Ant’? Since when had Lockwood let anybody call him Ant?! Apparently he didn’t mind, instead being too busy looking at Y/n with hearts for eyes while he tried (ineffectively) to argue his case. It was obvious that Y/n would win, given how wrapped around her little finger Lockwood was, but the argument wasn’t really an argument. More like… friendly teasing. Lucy could deal with that, she decided. It was much better than having to comfort one of them or convince apologies out of them after a screaming match. 

Skull had gone silent in the corner, but there was a smile in the sludge. He almost certainly had some information, but Lucy could get the details out of him and her friends later.

For now, she was content to watch them be a proper family for the first time since Y/n joined, even if Lockwood’s laughing face was being shoved away from the aforementioned girl as he tried to kiss her in an attempt to apologise for cheating at charades. 

tag list (if you're on here twice or I forgot you I'm so sorry, this tag list is honestly such a mess whoops):

@strawberryloveyyy, @chameleon021, @genderfluid-anime-goth, @cottagecore-babe, @anthonylockwoodandco111, @a-taken-url, @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @aysha4life, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12, @zoom1374, @asyouwish-fromcabin3, @rhysand-devorak, @a-candle-maker, @h0lyheck, @apple-bottom-jeans6, @icantwaittoliveandlearn

@neewtmas, @bobbys-not-that-small, @avdiobliss, @demigoddess-of-ghosts, @maraschinomerry, @lewkwoodnco, @uku-lelevillain, @oblivious-idiot

[lucky-clover-gazette]

white out is probably one of the more notable episodes of she ra bc it's just catra at her absolute worst behavior, like objectively the portal had far greater consequences but i think the cold got to her in this one bc she's such a fucking menace. "looks like you're mine now adora" "always so perfect, look at you now. you're coming back to the horde under my command" "i wonder which of your friends i'll have you annihilate first" "I'VE GOT CONTROL OVER ADORA. I'M NOT GIVING THAT UP." like when corrupted she ra throws catra at the ground like a ragdoll she deserves it, 100%, no questions asked. there isn't even a time/space anomaly making catra act up, they just put her in outpost 31 from the thing with her ex and suddenly she's the homoerotic joker.

even scorpia's briefly like "ahahah maybe i don't want to have a crush on catra after all" bc she's acting like such a freak. but also scorpia spends the entire episode trying to ask catra out, and tells adora, "you two, even when you're trying to kill each other, you can tell there's a real bond" and she is JEALOUS of that?? actually you know what this is also a catradora at their worst behavior episode too, like the way they immediately start trash talking and then ditch everyone to scrap the second they see each other is beyond unprofessional. catra's favorite number is canonically 42069 (confirmed by nate stevenson) and adora knows this by heart. if those two idiots were in the same room for five minutes while adora's on loopy mode the show would actually just end, and this episode fucking KNOWS it and refuses to give us the satisfaction. bro. scorpia telling loopy adora that catra is misunderstood and shouldn't SHE know that better than anyone else is just like. wow. ouch. rude. scorpia is actually the mvp of this episode she straight up judges adora to her FACE for abandoning catra and swears not to do the same, even though honestly she probably should, because catra fucking SUCKS in this one. scorpia reveals that "catra once used my rock-hard exoskeleton as a nail file" why?? why would you let this happen?? stop simping she's not worth it!! but scorpia is still the mvp bc at the end of the episode she just straight-up realizes that catra is out of her goddamn mind and breaks the 'controlling she ra' disk for catra's own good bc clearly something about low temps and her ex makes catra go 25% more feral than usual and it's pretty cringe. it's like when i dispose of the dead fly my cat has been antagonizing for the past twenty minutes like babygirl i don't like the person you become when you're in these conditions!! and of course OF COURSE we get literally two seconds of sober wordless communication between catra and adora that's just like ohhhh adora's gonna remember this one, you're going to be doing the dishes for the first fifteen years of your relationship once this galactic war shit wraps up and you save the universe by kissing with tongue. oh my god, what the fuck is with this show. how does this show exist. how does this episode exist. how does catra exist. they put this gay catgirl in an environment under 32 degrees farenheit for one episode and it's enough to make her say some of the most toxic, deranged dialogue in the entire series. i think soup would fix her, and also a cocktail of psychiatric medication and cognitive behavioral therapy. she sneezes like a kitten and needs a weighted blanket in the evil uber away from cringefail summit as she's mentally drafting the 'i fucked up' email to her boss. she thanks scorpia and shares the blanket with her bc she's so exhausted by her own bullshit. she ra and the princesses of power season 2 episode 5 white out is for the cold gay heartbroken bitches and it might just be one of the series' best. looks like you're mine now adora, good fucking night.

[starglitterz]

♡ 神っぽいな (GOD-ISH)

❝ look down on me behind your mask, but what are you without it? a candle barely burning can't be said to be alive. ❞

✧ feat ; dottore, gn!reader

✧ warning(s) ; toxic relationship between a weirdo and his creation, implied experiments on humans, implied torture, reader is Going Through It, overuse of em dash & italics LOL

✧ a/n ; happy february! i have been Obsessed w this man ever since playing the sumeru archon quest 😵‍💫 idk if this can even be classified as x reader but here we are ! the lyrics i used are from lyrinae's english cover of god-ish (the original is a vocaloid song by pinocchiop) bc i felt like this song rly suits the doctor JSDJKS,,, i hope you all enjoy :) !!

“you disgust me.” you spit the harsh words out, eyes narrowing as you glare at the man (can he even be called a man anymore?) in front of you. “it pains me that my most beautiful creation thinks so lowly of me,” dottore sighs exaggeratedly, bringing one hand up to caress your cheek. the tips of his black gloves are hidden razors, sharp enough to draw blood and that is the sole reason why you don't recoil from his icy touch. yet another addition to the long list of weapons he keeps on his person at all times – the doctor is strangely paranoid for one who claims to be godlike. 

you shudder as he leans towards you, breath warm against the skin you fear he’s going to scratch apart as punishment for your insolence. though dottore designed you to be pristine and perfect, you know better than anyone else that he holds no qualms about damaging what he made with his own hands. you doubt he's ever seen you as a person, simply viewing you as a means to an end in his furious quest to ‘enhance’ humanity – and now you represent nothing more than his success.

a smirk curves dottore’s lips, fangs peeking through like a wolf showing its canines as it hunts its prey, “you really are stunning…” he stalks ever closer, trapping you between his arms as your back presses against the cold steel of his operating table. you don't want to go back there. merely being in this room is bringing back a flood of memories so horrible you’re almost trembling – the doctor does not believe in anesthesia, and so you’ve been wide awake every time he carved you open for the sake of ‘improving’ you. “practically a miracle,” he continues admiring his handiwork in a low murmur, tilting his head ever so slightly as he fixes his gaze on you, red eyes gleaming wickedly in the dark. a sardonic smirk mars his features at the thought – how could you be a a gift from the gods when he doesn't even believe in them?

“get away from me.” you hiss, though there's a barely perceptible tremor in your tone – dottore is your creator, after all. it’d be foolish to go against the man who built you when he could just as simply dismantle you. “come now, don't be like that.” he coos, and the sound of his voice grates against your ears like nails on a chalkboard, “i don't bite. at least not without reason.” he chuckles at his own joke, using one finger to tug at his mouth and show off his serrated teeth – they could pierce through your skin so, so easily.

the doctor’s face is mere inches from yours as he whispers, a sadistic smile gracing his lips at your terrified expression, “scared, are you?” you swallow, willing yourself to ignore the question as you suck in a ragged breath, “i haven’t looked at a mirror since you…” you can’t bring yourself to finish your sentence. what word would you even use? after all the time you’ve spent with him, you think you just might be brainwashed enough to say he was simply ameliorating you. “and that is your loss,” dottore chuckles, his hand slipping lower to caress the curve of your neck, his thumb hovering dangerously close to your pulse point, “as i said, you're exquisite.”

you wonder if he can hear your heart beating desperately against your ribcage from fear, then you remember – you don’t have a heart. not anymore. and that makes you even more upset as you hiss, “you ruined me.” for some reason, this strikes a nerve with him, and he grabs your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his eyes. “my darling…” his pupils are dilated, and his laugh is almost manic as he replies, “i made you better than your puny human form could even dream of being.” 

“now, you're flawless.” dottore grins, a wild, reckless look in his eyes that reminds you again just how insane he is. “all these years of experiments, of hearing your delicious sobs and pleas…” he pauses for effect, relishing in the stifled whimper that escapes your perfectly crafted mouth as you remember everything he's done to you, “it all culminated in the you that you are now.” “stop.” you beg, but it's worthless now – there's no more bite behind your words, and dottore knows he’s broken you once again. though you've long since realised you will never best him, you still argue with him whenever he brings you to his laboratory, doing your best to fight back with what little mental strength you have left – some part of the doctor wants to cut your pretty head right open to see what's ticking in there and remove the source of your hatred. 

but it matters not, for dottore will continue teaching you the same lesson as many times as you need until you get it through your thick skull. 

he created you, and you would be nothing without him.

( and if you refuse to grasp this concept, he can always create a new version of you – one that doesn't talk back so much. )

i can Never be normal abt scara or dottore,,, anyways this is one of my favourite pieces that i've ever written, and i really hope that you all like it too ! please do let me know what you think :>

© starglitterz 2024. do not repost or modify in any way – reblog / follow if you enjoyed !

[feelbokkie]

Emergency Bokkie's Room #2

(Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again)

I want to start off by saying that I'm not mad. At least not right now. I was at first, but I'm just tired at this point and something should be said.

You might have noticed that I haven't been as active content writing wise lately and that I've stopped tagging my mutuals in the hashtag section of my posts and there are reasons for that.

fair warning, there will be swearing below

there will also probably be spelling and grammar mistakes bc I don't care

I am getting tired. I'm not burnt out. God, I wish I was because i have so many ideas running through my head at all times that it's exhausting.

I'm straight up, no longer having a good time on this account and that's because of somethings that have been happening behind the scenes. I wasn't going to talk about it but at the end of the day, I should address them, even if it's only once.

In no particular order:

First, if you're going to harass my mutuals. Don't. I stopped tagging my mutuals via hashtags, I deleted my mutuals list, and I am painstakingly going through the old hashtags and deleting them. They're my friendships. Who I interact with, how I interact with them, and when I interact with them is between me and that individual.

If you want to be friends with me, talk to me. Ask anyone, I'm pretty pleasant to talk to when I'm not going through it.

But also, remember that I'm an adult and I can take care of myself. I don't need anyone fighting my battles for me. If you're concerned about who I surround myself with, take that up with me directly, or trust that can handle things on my own. Because, at the end of the day, I can. If you're mad that I'm friends with them and not you, maybe try having a conversation with me first before you go attacking people. Just a a help suggestion.

Second,

i know i'm annoying at times. i'm the youngest child, it's in my blood. if you are getting annoyed by my rambles, simply just block them. I tag all my rumbles and I even made a helpful guide on how to do so right here and i even have a list of commonly used tags that i have on this account too that you can also block

Finally, I shouldn't have to say this because it should be very obvious but shit like this is never okay:

First of all, if you're going to be blatantly racist to anyone, unkindly get the fuck off my page. My fics are not for you. I don't have the time or patience to deal with you or your ignorant ass. If I see you being disrespectful towards anyone in my asks, comments, etc. it's an automatic block on all my accounts, I don't give a single fuck.

Secondly, I'm delusional, yes, but I'm also just having fun. I'm not actually trying to date anyone in skz or any other idol for that matter. It's called a joke, I don't know if anyone's explained the concept to you, but it's not to be taken seriously. Just like my page isn't. Me joking about me dating Seungmin and how "that man owns me atp" isn't serious and it wasn't serious enough for you to call me the n-word with the hard -er. Which, congratulations btw, you are the second person ever to call me that to my face (the first being my dad and he is the devil reincarnate so, what does that make you?).

I shouldn't have to sit here and lecture anyone on basic human decency and common sense but here we are. We are very rapidly approaching a future where I'm just not on tumblr at all anymore which sucks for a multitude of reasons and I'm just trying to have fun like everyone else.

Okay, that's all. For those of you who read through the end and didn't need to be scolded, sorry about that. Please take this big hug as an apology

[karoochui]

I just wanted to say I am so enamoured with Binary Insurgence! I eat up everything, every little crumb, you drop about it and the entire idea is so interesting to me! I'm so in love with stories and worlds like this! I'm also curious to know about the relationship between Sun and Moon, if it's alright to ask. How was it before the fire compared to after? Does their relationship begin to mend (because I'm certain over the years it deteriorated) when y/n comes back into the picture? If any of this is too spoilery or you just haven't fleshed it out yet then you don't have to answer! I'm just super curious about the boys and how you see their dynamic/relationship. I just look forward to seeing how their bond has grown and/or broken and how it may be mended over time.

AHH im glad you like it so much!! Im happy to talk about what i've got, but you are right not everything is fully fleshed out. I have points i wanna get to but while im brainstorming and planning i make up a lot of stuff as i go and then go over it again later to see if i like it or can connect stuff in any way. I have 3 chapters for Arc 1 fully summarized as of now! (Which probably doesn't seem like a lot but i like my chapters long, so it's quite a bit actually).

I wanna say, too, that i'm planning for the first story to be more in the perspective of the reader, so most things about Sun and Moon's personal thoughts and feelings are gonna be more implied than said. I might have some switching points of view, i'm not sure, but i haven't found a place i'd do it or think it's relevant. The sequel is gonna be more from their perspective since it'll mostly be about them.

NOW! I see Sun and Moon as brothers, so they really treat each other in a way that's like that. Before the fire they get along pretty well. Most instances of issue would be when Moon blocks out Sun when he fronts, or just mutual panic over the fact Moon lost his shit w/ the virus. They'll have their disagreements about things (i havent planned specifics yet) but generally they're chill. Sun just worries about Moon hurting people, but Moon worries too. With the way the virus functions in this AU it's hard for Sun to fully fault Moon for what he does, especially because he's also affected by it but not nearly as bad. (I'm gonna explain this more in another ask i have).

Plus, even before the virus they were always glitch/bug-ridden because technicians fucked up their programming continuously after removing them from the theater to work in the daycare. So they had to kinda navigate through that together, glitches and errors on both ends (though not deadly). They hate P&S bc of this, obviously. Hardware fixes suck but they fucking HATE software examinations.

Later on though some issues come into play whenever Sun starts getting worse by being further exposed to the virus (it gets worse for him when they eclipse) because it presents itself in Sun differently than it does Moon. He gets snappier and angrier at times (that comic i made that's captioned "well someones snappy") and while they both understand he doesnt mean the shit he does it's still not great. And nobody's gonna just let themselves be talked to like a dog even if the reason it's happening is because of something the other person can't really help. They're still relatively fine at this point, though.

It's at the end when shit goes really bad, because this part of the story does end badly. I won't spoil specifics but after the fire Sun loses his shit. He starts trying to put the blame on Moon for everything (the virus enhancing his already bad habits/fucking with his line of thinking) out of grief and anger. That carries over into the apocalypse and he just gets worse in general. He gets irrational.

It's a long period of time though, so he eventually also manages it, in his own way. But! I did say before in an ask that in the sequel he's "not evil, persay, but he's a fucking nut". He damns Moon to an hourglass to just fucking get rid of him about 100~ years before they meet you again (he fully thinks he's in the right for this (and he also just hates him) and the only reason he really even stayed around after that was to make sure Moon didn't get out again). He's not a bad-intentioned individual, but he's off the fucking wall at many times bc of the virus having made him worse. He's stubborn as all hell to an infuriating degree, he's irrational, hard-headed, reckless, and while a good bit of his old, kinder self is still pretty prevalent he can be downright fucking mean if provoked. Again, worse than before, and it doesn't take much these days! I always imagined him to have more dramatic, snappy, diva aspects to his personality (even before Help Wanted 2 came out) bc hes so theatrical and intense, so basically take a Sun that's like that, crank it up to 100 and put him in a Bad Situation. That's what Round 2 Sun is like at his worst. He's not a complete lost cause though, and he's far from dumb when he does stuff, just clouded by his own judgement. He doesn't think anything's wrong with him (or does he?).

Moon doesn't really hate him like Sun hates Moon, because although he knows that what happened (the ending of the first story) is technically both of their faults he just feels guilt. They do fight a lot, though. Most of it is Moon trying his best to tell Sun that he's basically full of shit and not seeing things right after Sun starts something, but Sun's at the point where he's gotta learn by consequence. Part of the reason he's so bad is bc 1: hes been infected by the virus for so long now and 2: in his grief, anger, and resentment he's learned to live with it rather than fighting it.

But the sequel is gonna be a feel-good story! Falling in love w/ the reader all over again, i want things to get cleared up - or at least some kind of middle ground between Sun and Moon - the whole sha-bang.

[willowser]

i have this like one hc that pro-hero work involves a lot of traveling, especially in the beginning. they move here for six months and then there for four and then here for 14 and so on, just to get experience out in the field.

so it only makes sense you and bakugou end things, right at the start of his career.

and it's okay. it is. bc you both love each other and you know that, know that it's not ending bc of any huge, terrible fight that makes you enemies of one another. all the memories you'll carry can stay gold, not tarnished by anything other than the bittersweet distance.

getting used to it takes a little time, that's all; before he was your boyfriend, he was your friend, first and foremost. someone you had inside jokes with and had similar interests you could talk to about for hours, things that you only did with him and no one else. things only he knew. and not getting to tell him exciting news about college or ask if he saw the limited edition, golden age all might nendoroid they're releasing at the end of the year...sucks. it feels wrong, like these are things he's supposed to know, no matter what. things you're supposed to talk about.

you call him five months into his eight month nagoya contract and he doesn't answer. you think maybe he changed his number and didn't tell you, bc he doesn't actually have to anymore. bakugou has always been good about self control, keeping to himself, and it wouldn't surprise you if he's written you off without a second thought—bc this is how it's supposed to be when you break up with someone.

it's not until the next day that you get a text, late in the evening.

[9:26 PM] did you mean to call me

of course you did, but maybe you shouldn't have. hearing the line ring over and over again—it's cemented the realization that he's not thinking about you anymore. that he's moved on and you should too and he probably doesn't want to hear whatever if is you want to talk about. he'll probably just think you're weird. clingy.

yeah, but it's nothing important [9:32 PM]

he reads it immediately and—nothing happens. and you think that's it. hopefully you didn't come off too passive aggressive and now he thinks you're mad that he didn't answer. maybe you should have put an emoji, the little smiling one with the hands to show no biggie ! maybe you should have just said that, or that you couldn't remember the name of that hiking trail you did together two summers ago, but then you googled it and didn't need him anymore. or something.

he calls at 10:03.

your heart is in your throat when you pick up, beating like crazy bc you haven't heard his voice in a while. "uh, hello?"

and he hesitates too; his drawn out inhale doesn’t go unnoticed. "hey."

there's a brief period of silence on the line, some light shuffling on his end. sounds of cars passing, the rare honk of what traffic lingers this late at night. the wind scratches by, audible, and you shiver despite being in your own bed. you imagine him under a dim streetlight, fully outfitted.

bakugou huffs, "you called me?"

"yeah," you blink and sit up, though you don't know why. maybe because this needs your full attention, or because you don't want your voice to get muffled by your pillow. "i was just, uh—my roommate. she asked me if i've ever been to gekikara gourmet festival—"

"oh my god."

it's the exasperation in his voice that makes you laugh, so vivid, exactly as you remember it, and you can picture the face he must be making. "i know, i was like 'oh boy, have i'."

"d'you tell her you puked—"

"—with my head between my knees while sitting on that kiddie slide, yes i did."

he snorts, just the way he did as he patted the back of your head that night, awkwardly, standing beside you with a fist at his side. "told you not to try those fucking noodles."

you agree. "they were making even you sweat, i don't know what i was thinking."

it had been one of your first official dates, and you think all the spicy food didn't help with your restless nerves. it always felt stupid, looking back on it, to be so afraid; you'd known bakugou forever, and the only difference between that night and the many you'd spent before as friends was that he'd kissed your temple, lips red from spice and all. it was just bakugou, you thought. what was there to be anxious about?

and now the silence is making your stomach turn.

"yeah," you continue lamely, "nothing important, it just—made me think of you."

he doesn't say anything. if it weren't for the distant slam of something—a trash can lid or car door—you would think he hung up. he's always had a hard time with his words and you don't really even understand why he called instead of texting. if there was something he wanted to say to you, you aren't sure he could.

"so, i guess i'll let you—"

"y'got a roommate now?"

"uh, yeah." something ugly in your stomach wants there to be jealousy in his tone, and you shake your head to be rid of the thought. because it shouldn't matter. "she's in a couple of my classes. big fan of, like, kpop and stuff."

he snorts again and you can imagine the roll of his eyes, bright with amusement despite the frown on his lips. you love that look on him; so content that it felt out of his character, something he wanted to hide. being the cause of it has always been so sweet. "different apartment?"

"yeah, in a little dorm on campus." he didn't live with you long, just in the time between graduating and when his applications to agencies began returning acceptions. "couldn't afford that place by myself."

bakugou hums, and your eyes swim so suddenly that you have to take the phone away from your head. you wonder if he misses those days as much as you do. the simple life, doing the mundane together; washing clothes in the laundry room downstairs, having to clean the dishes by hand or the dishwasher would flood the tiny kitchen, taking quick showers together so that you'd both get hot water.

it was terrible. it was perfect. the kind of life you could never have, with dynamight.

his voice buzzes distantly and you sniff, wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater before putting the phone back up to your ear.

"what'd you say?"

"that—" he huffs, "nothin'." you sniff again, unthinking, and he goes completely silent again. no inhale, no exhale.

he's not stupid. he probably knew this would happen and that's why he didn't want to answer. it was hard enough for him to get the words out the first time ("just gonna be shit, for you to be waitin'. eraser told me not to—won't be able to keep any fucking—and i don't wanna be some jackass that just lets you down all the fuckin' time.")

"sorry," you laugh because you feel awkward, because you didn't mean to force what you've been suffocating on him all at once. "i don't know what just happened."

bakugou mumbles, "s'fine."

you think that even if there was something he wanted to say, he wouldn't know how.

"but yeah," you sigh and scrub a hand over your face again. "no biggie, just thought it was funny when she asked and wanted to tell you. it's actually kind of late and i need to head to bed, but i'll—" talk to him later, is what you want to say, but your stomach drops and you know that it's not that easy. not anymore.

maybe it will be one day in the future, but this is the life you have to live, for now. all you can do is hold onto that hope, as your throat tries to tighten again.

"fuck, i—" he breathes, so frustrated that it nearly becomes a grunt, "y'don't know how—just, goddammit, in three months i'll—"

"i know," you tell him, and you smile like he can see it. in three months, he'll come back, to accept another contract, and then he'll be gone again. if there was a way to make it work, bakugou would have found it. of all people, bakugou would have found it. "it's okay," you tell him.

and it is. it is.

[sungbeam]

𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡

motorcycle racer!ji changmin x gn!reader

1.3k words, flirting, low-key tension?, CHANGMIN !! IN A !! CROPTOP !!, reader has hair long enough to flow out of a helmet?, swearing, changmin calls reader dollface and sweetheart

a/n: ash @ethereal-engene knows... 🤧😳 (guys, i might make this a fully fleshed out fic... or keep writing until they kiss bc i'm a sucker !!)

"Need a ride?"

You glanced up from your phone, your eyes meeting the slicing cat eyes of one Ji Changmin, his hand carding through his dark strands of hair dampened in sweat from the helmet he just tore off. You blinked. Out of anyone who could have come to get you— "How did you…"

"Chanhee told me the situation and I was in the area," he replied matter-of-factly with a stiff shrug. He hadn't bothered to put the kickstand of his motorcycle down yet as he left the engine to run and he continued to straddle the vehicle. 

You realized you had been eyeing him—the tight fitting crop top, cargo pants and heavy duty boots. He'd been in the area for a race. "I can wait," you said to him. For someone else, anyone else. 

It didn't seem like he expected you to reject his offer, because he narrowed his eyes at you, a dimple forming in the side of his cheek as he frowned. He sighed. "Chanhee will have my head, you know."

You tongued your cheek and crossed your arms over your chest in defiance. "Maybe I'd like to see that."

You could've sworn that you saw the corner of his lips twitch upward. 

Changmin pressed his lips together, a muscle feathering in his jaw with a wry smile. "Just get on the bike, Yn."

"No fucking way."

"Well, I'm not gonna just leave you out here," he huffed, leaning back slightly to mirror you with his arms crossed firmly over his chest, helmet squeezed between his thighs and the front of the bike. 

A breeze wafted past and blew on the loose strands of hair in your eyes and you brushed them out of the way. There was no one around for miles, and the sky was already darkening a little too quickly for your liking. Soon, you'd be a literal sitting duck in the middle of nowhere… if you didn't suck up your pride and get on the bike, at least. 

He must have seen the resignation in your expression, because his own softened. He grabbed the helmet and held it out to you. Nodding to the space just behind him, he coaxed, "C'mon, I don't bite—"

You walked forward and grabbed the helmet from him, but didn't miss the gleam in his eyes. 

"—unless you want me to."

You rolled your eyes and put the helmet on, throwing your leg over the back of his bike and settling on the end of the seat behind him. "I will get off this motorcycle right now and leave you to face Chanhee alone, Ji."

He threw a wolfish grin over his shoulder at you as he gripped the handlebars of his motorcycle and revved the engine. The sound echoed even across the barren fields on either side of you. "Better hold onto something, dollface."

You glanced down at his slim waist—no fucking way—and managed to get "Hold onto what?" out of your mouth before he floored the gas and rocketed off down the road. 

You screeched, swears falling from your mouth, as your arms hooked around his middle and you pressed your front to his back.

You could hear his cackles even over the thundering of the whipping wind in your ears. "Screw you," you yelled through his helmet. It smelled, surprisingly, not like sweat but like the musky, woody scent of his cologne. 

"Is that an invitation?" 

"There's something wholly wrong with you!"

He cheered out into the night, the wind and speed giving him a delicious rush of adrenaline. The grin just couldn't fade away. "Tell me something I don't know."

You resolved to keep your mouth shut. As Changmin drove you both down the seemingly endless road back toward the city, you took in the setting sun to your right, the side of your head leaning against his back so you could watch the star sink into the horizon. A sense of peace washed over you, and you realized that there was something addicting about the way your heart had jolted when he'd sped into action. The wind blowing past you, the solidness of Changmin's lean figure keeping you grounded. You'd always thought riding on a motorcycle would be scary, but perhaps you shouldn't have been so quick to dismiss it. 

You and Changmin said nothing to the other for the remainder of the journey. 

Soon, the two of you were racing past the neon lights of downtown, speeding past plenty of red lights to the symphony of elongated car horns. 

Every time Changmin laughed, you could feel it in his back, his stomach, in the way he pressed faster ever so slightly. 

And as Changmin slowed to turn the corner onto the quiet neighborhood of you apartment complex, the abrupt realization hit you in the face like a gust of wind. Your cheeks ached from smiling. 

You struggled to neutralize your facial expression as Changmin pulled up to the curb in front of your complex and turned the engine off. The kickstand popped down against the street, and you sat up to shuck the helmet off your head. You shook your hair out, wincing as you combed a hand through the strands to tame any helmet hair sticking up. 

Changmin turned his head only slightly to watch you out of his periphery. 

You exhaled audibly and passed the helmet up to him. He tucked the helmet under his other arm then stuck his free hand out to the side so you could grab onto it and help yourself off the bike. When your feet hit solid ground, the weight of gravity was a strange sensation. 

You wanted to get back on the bike. 

But you weren't about to tell him that. 

"Thanks, Changmin," you said finally, breaking the silence between the two of you. 

He gave the slightest smile. "Anytime, Yn. Is someone going to get your car or…?"

Oh, right. That. Your eyes shuddered at the migraine already appearing in your temples at the thought of all that hassle. "I should probably call someone about that."

He bobbed his head. "You probably should. I know a guy. A friend of mine—you can trust him."

You blinked. "Oh. Could I get his number?"

He smiled, his tongue caught between his cheek. He leaned back slightly again, sinewy arms crossing. One of his brows cocked upward. "You could…"

At the pause, you deadpanned. "What do you want, Changmin?"

There was that grin. You wondered how he could look so boyish when his body and demeanor was the entire opposite. Pretty, beautiful boy. "Come to next week's race."

The suggestion hung in the air and you opened your mouth to automatically reject it, but hesitated. He'd already driven you home—because of Chanhee—but then again, he could've just not come to get you at all. 

It was like he could read you like an open book, like he could see right through you. "You can leave whenever," he promised you as if trying to convince you, "it'd just be nice to see your pretty face in the crowd again."

God, there went all of your resolve. You stuck your hands in the pockets of your pants, resigned. "Okay. I'll be there."

Victory sang in the way he smiled, in the way the streetlight made his dark irises glitter. He held out his hand, and you placed your phone in his palm. 

Swiftly, he was inputting contact information into your files, eagerly and faster than you could regret agreeing.

When he gave your phone back to you, the screen was off and you signed back in to pull up the new contact. You barely registered Changmin donning his helmet, followed by the ear-splitting roar of the motorcycle engine. 

You raised your head just in time to watch him salute to you and whip down the street and around the corner. 

For a moment, you simply stood on the sidewalk, letting the thundering of your heart settle and for feeling to return to your ears. When the silence had settled, you loosened a sigh and headed toward your apartment complex. 

You were one foot in the door when you halted. You had opened up the new contact page, but instead of some stranger's name, you instead saw "changmin 😚" in the name slot. 

And in the notes, he had left you a message: I'm the "friend" if you haven't figured it out yet ;) I'll get your car back to you by tomorrow morning x.

a/n: the amount of changmin fics on this blog might overtake jacob ones, i fear

tbz m.list // read risk next

permanent taglist: @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @honeyhuii @y3jiishot @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @soobin-chois @mingiholic @ja4hyvn @ethereal-engene @justalildumpling @vatterie @yogurteume

[milkweedman]

hi, sorry if this is something you've answered before, but how did you get started with spinning? and do you have an reccs for beginners? i'm not a fiber arts person (yet) but i think the skills are mind-blowingly cool. i have a few friends that are into crochet also and while i don't do so i think it would be nice to be able to make them yarn etc :)! thank u <3

Hi ! I got started with spinning about 5 years ago now--I ordered a turkish spindle and some andean highland wool from knitpicks, tried it out, and really sucked.

Like. really sucked. couldn't even make bad yarn bc it just kept falling apart (due to undertwisting ! if your yarn is falling apart in your hands, it's undertwisted. there, i just saved you about a month of misery, if you're me lol). Put it away for a while, tried again, was still bad at it, rinse and repeat for about a year. eventually something clicked and i started being able to make more than like, an armspan of yarn before it became disastrous.

not saying it's that hard for everyone (i've watched some people pick it up in like... 5 minutes), or that it'll be that hard for you ! that's just how it went with me.

I do have some recs for beginners which will hopefully help ! (i didn't have this community on tumblr at the time, and didn't know there were forums on ravelry, so i had no community help or knowledge, which did not work in my favor).

Get a basic drop spindle with a hook on the end, if you can. Drop spindles come in many different forms, but the two main categories are top whorl and bottom whorl (meaning, where the circular whorl is placed on the shaft of the spindle). top whorl spindles spin faster but for a shorter period of time and can be more unbalanced. bottom whorl spindles spin slower but for longer, and are typically more balanced (physics, idk). everyone has their own preferences--i tend to recommend bottom whorl spindles to beginners because it kind of slows the process down, which can be helpful. if you've got a little extra money, buying a top whorl and a bottom whorl spindle could be a good idea. they're pretty cheap on etsy, esp if you get a very plain and simple one and just decorate it yourself.

spindle weight matters a lot. the heavier the spindle, the thicker the resulting singles will be. (singles are what you spin first, then you ply them together if desired). the lighter the spindle, the thinner the singles. this means if you get a very heavy spindle and try to spin something fine on it, it'll likely snap under the weight. and if you try to spin something thick on a light spindle, you'll be constantly flicking it and not adding very much twist (so it may just fall apart into sad fluff). my favorite all-purpose spindle for yarns that won't be particularly thin weighs about 2 ounces (55 grams). that will be too heavy for fine yarns, but works well for making like, worsted weight 2 ply. i would recommend a spindle somewhere in the 1-2 ounce range (30-55 grams) for a basic beginner spindle. once you get the hang of it feel free to go for the very light spindles or the heavier plying spindles.

don't buy roving for your first fiber. almost everyone does that, and many people end up with really low quality (and sometimes even compressed or partially felted) roving. roving can be great for spinning once you know what you're doing, but it's kind of... uniquely unsuited for beginners, in my opinion anyway. firstly because it is the most common preparation, it's not really treated with care by many companies when it comes to storage (hence the compression or felting). secondly, it's really easy to felt it in your hands when you're doing the beginner sweaty-hands-deathgrip-drafting-with-all-your-might thing (i'll get to that later). thirdly, again because it's the most common prep, there's a thriving market of garbage shitty roving, and it takes a little experience telling the difference between decent stuff and garbage stuff based on an internet page. I would highly recommend spending a little bit more money on a batt. this is like a large pillow of carded wool, which you pull strips off of to spin. they are sold in a far less-compressed state (which makes for easier spinning) and are, as far as im aware, made by humans with experience, rather than machines.

the breed matters a lot when it comes to spinning. some breeds have finer, more slippery wool, and some have grabby wool. grabby wool is better for learning (it means less of your yarn just slipping apart and breaking). some good beginner breeds are shetland, corriedale, jacob, romney, or other similar wools. the fiber market is inundated with merino (either a great thing or a source of misery, depending on who you ask), which is not a particularly good beginner breed (it's definitely on the slippery, finer side).

once you've got all your materials, it's spinning time ! find a youtube tutorial or a written tutorial (check your library for books on spinning. i have no recommendations--i did not learn from books). you could also check and see if there's a spinner's guild in your area. it depends on the guild (some are kind of, uh... snooty, for lack of a better word ? most seem pretty friendly and happy to help newcomers) but you might be able to show up to a meeting and get some help. ideally get some practice with the spindle first though.

lastly, some tips for spinning. A) keep the fiber supply held loosely in your hand, or better yet, draped over your hand so that the fiber you're drafting is only held in your fingertips. if you hold it tightly you won't be able to draft evenly. you may also compress and/or felt it by holding it, especially if your hands are sweaty. B) try spinning using the 'park and draft' method while you are learning. this is where you add a bunch of extra twist to the already-spun yarn (or leader, for the first length), pinch the twist to hold it in place, and draft fiber, allowing the twist to travel up the wool as you draft it. this is a good technique for learning because it isolates the actions of spinning, letting you focus on one part at a time. trying to keep the spindle going while drafting when you're brand new is not easy, and can lead to a lot of frustration and mistakes. once you've got the hang of drafting, then it's a great time to figure out how to do it all at once. C) work slowly and thoughtfully while you learn. what you're doing at first is twofold: you're figuring out the process and what works and what doesn't, but you're also building muscle memory, which is what spinners (really, pretty much everyone who practices hand crafts or hand work of any kind) rely on. i can get high af and zone out and spin and end up with a usable (sometimes even pretty good) yarn, because even when my brain isn't working, my hands know what to do. this is not the case for someone without the muscle memory. pay attention, step away if you get frustrated, and work slowly. as you build muscle memory, it will become easier and easier. D) your first yarns don't have to be good. they don't even really have to be yarn, as such--if you ended up with something thats rope at one end and thread at another, that's ok ! you're learning ! the purpose of your first yarns is just to teach you how to spin. if they look like shit, it's ok. (mine looked awful, for the record ! i don't think i've seen anything quite as bad as my very first yarn, actually. wish i'd kept it though xD)

hope this was helpful ! there's also this post about how to tell if your yarn is under or over twisted, which might be of use, and this post about finishing your yarn as well. and if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask me or another spinner (the overwhelming majority of us are very happy to help a new spinner) for advice or help !