#yeah your wooden floors are absolutely ruined

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Since we all agree legacy is a moth running cat software then he'd probably get zoomies!!!! Like imagine coming home at 3 am because of a work dinner or something and legacy is just sososo happy you're back that he starts running around the house like crazy because he's so excited:(((

oh my moon and stars this is absolutely adorable thank you so much anon

just imagine you get home in the wee hours of the morning, exhausted and wanting to just fall over, which you almost do when you sit to take off your shoes. then suddenly you hear a delighted trill from upstairs, Foul Legacy darting out of his room and down the stairs to scoop you into a tight hug, nuzzling his face into your neck with a chitter before setting you gently down. you smile tiredly, sitting down to watch him sprint around the house, trying to get all that energy out- your hardwood floors are ruined forever from his claws, the skittering making deep gouges, but you don't really mind. eventually Legacy slows to a stop beside you, breathing heavily and shaking out his fur until it's a fluffy cloud, leaning his head against your legs

now you're both exhausted, but leaning against your front door is no way to fall asleep, so with much grumbling you both drag yourselves up into your room and promptly collapse onto your bed with a collective groan. Legacy wearily curls himself around you, resting his head against your chest with a tired rumble as you settle in for sleep. you yawn, then he yawns, and you yawn again, a never-ending cycle until Legacy buries his face into your collarbone and lulls you into a peaceful sleep. he'll insist that you stay home the next day, sleeping late into the morning with him to make up for staying up so late, and when you accept you can see his wings flutter with utter joy <33

[mapis-putellas]

Bad day

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Reader

Words: 1698

Warnings: Swearing, crying

Summary: You’ve had a bad day and go to Alexia for comfort. Based on this request- here

Notes: Do you guys have chapters that write really well? Like, I barely had to change anything in the proof read and I’m kinda proud of myself. Enjoy <3

[prompt list]

Today hadn't been a very good day. In fact, it had been absolutely terrible.

Firstly, you'd slept through the alarm you'd sworn you'd set, unintentionally snapping at Alexia for not waking you when getting up herself. Then you'd dropped your coffee -your very hot coffee to be precise- simultaneously ruining your blouse, burning your skin and souring your mood further because you didn't have time to get another one or go back home to change.

So not only were you un-caffeinated and smelling of stale coffee for the entire day, the AC in your office had finally decided to call all it quits. You'd spent the whole day sweating, and if all that was bad enough, you didn't have time for a lunch break, meaning you'd gone the whole day without eating because of course you'd slept through breakfast too.

So yeah. Today had not been a very good day. Right now, at this specific moment, all you wanted was a shower and for Alexia to hold you. Maybe some pizza too. But mainly Alexia.

But apparently the universe was determined to make your day even shittier because when you got home, you see Alexia busy on her laptop on a Skype call to someone. Your mood dwindles further as you glare at the back of her unsuspecting head. Of course. Of course she was busy. Alexia was always busy.

You pause in the midst of angrily kicking off your shoes. No. It wasn't her fault. None of this was. You were just frustrated. And angry. And sweaty. And hangry. And apparently Alexia deprived too.

"Stupid alarm. Stupid coffee. Stupid AC. Stupid everything." You grumble to yourself as you make your way down the hall to the bathroom, hastily stripping off and stepping beneath the scolding hot water.

You stay in the shower for probably longer than you should have, only stepping out when your fingers are wrinkly and you start to feel faint. The shirt Alexia had worn to bed last night was still strewn across her side of the bed, and without hesitation, you find yourself slipping it on along with a pair of underwear.

Your bare feet pad across the wooden floor as you make your way back through to the kitchen. Even if Alexia wasn't done, you needed to eat. You were way past hangry and slipping dangerously into murderous, and that was not how you wanted to end your already shit day.

Surprisingly, Alexia wasn't on Skype anymore. But she still looks busy prompting you to keep quiet as to slip past her and over to the refrigerator. You were part way through pouring yourself a bowl of cereal when her voice fills the room.

"Mi amor, I did not hear you come home."

You can't help but startle at the sound, turning around with the cereal box clutched to your chest. "Uhh, yeah. Hi. I saw you were busy and didn't want to bother you."

Alexia raises an eyebrow as she pulls her headphones out of her ears, leaning back in her chair and running a hand through her hair. It was unfair how attractive she looked doing that.

"I am never to busy for you bebé. How was your day?" She asks genuinely.

You simply purse your lips, the cereal box becoming crushed against your chest.

Alexia frowns. "That bad?"

You nod tersely.

"You want to talk about it? I can listen." She offers, but you shake your head.

"If you don't let me eat right now, I'm gonna bite your head off." You admit seriously, and Alexia huffs a laugh of amusement as she nods her head.

"Dinner is in the oven, amor." Alexia gestures to the appliance just next to you. "I did not want it to go cold."

Your hands drop to your sides. “You made dinner?" You feel your eyes start to burn with the familiar sensation of tears.

"Sí. I had some free time," she looks up you, "amor, are you crying?"

"I can't help it," you choke out before letting out a sob, and Alexia's heart breaks as she stands up and makes her way over to you, cupping the back of your head and pulling you into her arms. You fall limp against her, arms looping around her waist and squeezing tight as you bury your face into her chest. "I-I had such...such a bad day, and you...m-made dinner."

"I did, baby," Alexia so very rarely uses English terms of endearment with you, only doing so when you were so upset she fears you wouldn't understand her Spanish. "You are shaking, love. What happened?"

"I had a bad..bad day." Alexia almost finds herself tearing up at just how dejected and sad you sound.

"You did?" She muses softly, the hand on the back of your head combing gently through your hair. You nod against her chest, breath stuttering as you try and get yourself together.

"It is okay, baby. You can cry." She assures, and you let out another choked sob she tightens her arms around you. After a while, without prompting, you start to speak.

"I slept..slept through my alarm. Then I...I spilled my coffee and didn't have t-time to change or get another one. Then the st-stupid AC broke, and I missed lunch. And...and..." you trail off into another sob as you clutch desperately to the sides of her shirt, and Alexia frowns as she bends and loops her arms beneath your behind, standing up straight with you in her arms before easing you down onto the counter.

She steps in between your parted legs, feeling the way they hook tightly around her waist as your crossed feet rest against her ass.  Your stomach and chest were flush against her own as she holds you, one arm across your back whilst her hand cups the back of your head, fingertips grazing lightly over your scalp.

Your arms were around her shoulders, hands clinging to the back of her shirt as you sob softly into her shoulder. Alexia simply stands there and holds you, knowing you often got overwhelmed when someone tried to talk and make sense of things when all you needed was a good cry.

Eventually, your sobs fade into sniffles, and Alexia holds you for just a few moments longer before tentatively easing your upper body away from her, hand's delicately cupping your cheeks.

"It's sounds like you did have a pretty bad day, mi amor." She murmurs, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

You nod, sniffling softly as your eyes fill with a fresh set of tears.

"No no, do not cry, bebé," Alexia soothes, using her thumbs to wipe away your tears, "it is okay now. You are home, with me." She pulls you back to her chest, feeling the way her heart breaks when you cling to her desperately like you were scared she was going to push you away. "I will fix you a plate of food, yes? Would you like some juice too?"

You nod with a quiet sniffle, feeling Alexia's hands slide beneath your bare thighs before easily hoisting you off of the counter and carrying you over to the dining table. She lingers with you in her arms for a few moments longer before easing you down onto the chair next to hers, kissing your forehead before moving to prepare you some food, and you stare longingly at the back of her body as she flips between the refrigerator and oven getting everything she needed.

Soon, she was back, and you can't help but smile as she sets a plate of pasta down in front of you along with a fork and some some juice.

"Gracias." You whisper hoarsely, feeling Alexia hum as she kisses your again forehead again before retreating back to her own seat.

After not eating all day, it was safe to say you were famished and end up eating your meal in about ten minutes flat. As you set down your fork, you look cluelessly around the room not quiet knowing that to do with yourself. Quite frankly, all you wanted to do now was sleep, but you didn’t want to do that without Alexia and you suspected she had to finish whatever work she was doing before finally retiring to bed. But you didn’t want to just sit here by yourself either.

Alexia soon solves this for you, grabbing the seat of your chair and pulling you closer. You look up at her, head tilted to the side.

"Come here, you can sit on my lap until I am done working." She uses her feet to push her chair back slightly before invitingly pats her thighs, but you hesitate, your earlier worries returning about not wanting to disturb her.

"Come here, bebè. Let me hold you." She reaches to grab your hand and lightly tugs, your resolve immediately breaking. You stand up and allow her to coax you into her lap, one leg either side of her own with your ass planted firmly against her thighs. You melt against her almost immediately, cheek resting against her shoulder as one of your arms settles around her waist. The other stays flush against her chest, fingers hooking tightly to her shirt.

Alexia relaxes at the feeling of your weight on top of her, using the hand that wasn't controlling her laptop to graze gentle circles across the length of your back. She hooks her chin into your shoulder, turning her face slightly to the left so she could breath in your smell for a few moments before focusing back on her work. The sooner she was done, the sooner she could focus one hundred perfect of her attention on you. But for now, she figure this was a good compromise.

"I love you, ale." She hears you murmur as she feels your warm hand creep up her shirt to rest between the back the chair and her bare skin, tracing absently over her tattoos.

"Te amo, mi amor."

**

Tags:

@simp4panos @goldenempyrean @codiemarin @girlgenius1111 @liloandstitchstan

[god-has-entered-my-body]

Do you see me? - Matty Healy

A/N: okay it's sort of short and a bit shit and i played around with the dynamic so it might seem off xx thanks @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff you absolute legend for finding the titles for my blurbs by scouring the 1975's discography based off my extremely vague parameters❤️

wc: 3.5k

content warnings: matty in lingerie (again), mpind typical cursing, bondage (handcuffs), thigh riding, cumplay, begging, switch! Matty, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, matty being a knob as per use

Your head is throbbing, the beat of the shitty house music still echoing in your skull even twenty minutes later. Matty is hanging on your arm, weighing you down as he rambles on about how shit the drinks were, and that you shouldn't have bothered going out in the first place. He was right, the diluted alcohol and trashy EDM ruining a perfectly good sunday night, better spent at an actual club instead of some random blokes house. 

Matty’s hands grip your back as you push the front door open, keeping his balance as the platform boots he had borrowed from you made it quite difficult to walk normally. The light in the foyer automatically comes on, the fancy motion sensors painting the space in a warm glow, casting a shadow over the unorganized pile of shoes on the floor.  

His hands run up your sides as you toe your heels off, tugging your dress down when it rides up, lace scratching the skin of your thighs. Your choice of attire this evening was a tight bodycon dress, red lace details adorning the neckline and bottom hem, a pretty contrast against the black fabric, clinging to your body like a second skin. Matty’s mouth fell open when he saw you slip it on, adjusting its straps in the floor length mirror in your bedroom. 

“Look so pretty tonight, love this dress on you.” he mumbled as his eyes raked up and down your body, drinking you in. 

The party was a flop, both of you promising never to go to that specific house ever again, also deciding to better stay clear of the friend that had extended the invite. 

Since you arrived, his hands were always on some part of your body, whether they were wrapped around your waist, resting on your lower back, or intertwined with yours, his thumb rubbing small circles into the back of your hand. 

Matty leans down to press a kiss to your glossed lips, a peck quickly transforming into his fingers weaving into your hair, pulling you against him. You give into his touch, your bodies flush as he pushes you backwards in the direction of the living room, your knees hitting something wooden. 

“Just- yeah, this is better.” he says as he seats you down onto his posh little decorative chair, the wood smooth against the back of your thighs. Matty’s favorite piece of furniture was a oak wood sitting room chair, the armrests cared to look like trees and flowers, painted in pretty pastels. You always found it a bit morbid, seeing as a tree had died to create it, and painting its living counterpart onto a corpse wasn't really to your taste. 

His lips are hot against yours, tongue licking into your mouth with fervor as you sigh into the kiss, letting your eyes droop closed. Your breathing is heavy, chest heaving against his as he leans over you, dominating the kiss. It felt odd, him above you while you let him kiss you, not the other way around. Lost in your thoughts, you don't even notice one of his hands stop touching you. 

The click is impossible loud as you feel a cool sensation on the skin of your wrist. Your eyes snap open, landing on Matty first before dragging down to your left hand, a pair of handcuffs coming into view. It takes a few seconds for it to actually click. Handcuffs. Matty had handcuffs, and they were on you, also on the armrest. Wait, what? 

Matty chuckles at your confusion, taking the opportunity to reach into his back pocket, pulling out another pair, snapping them onto your right wrist before you could even react properly.   

“What the fuck- Matty?” you sound a bit panicked, tugging at the restraints, not really understanding the purpose of his actions. That was, until you see a filthy smirk spread onto your boyfriend's face.

“Let me out, I swear to fucking god. I don't care what you are playing at.” you resort to immediately throwing around threats, the feeling of being trapped overwhelming you. All he does is watch you struggle, a mischievous expression on his face. 

He presses a finger to your lips, shushing you condescending as cures spill from your lips, the metal of the handcuffs harshly digging into your skin.

“In a bind?” he taunts, his hand stroking your face as you glare at him, not liking the lack of control you possessed. It felt strange, your eyes searching his for a hint of humor, maybe this was a prank? A crude joke to rile you up, his incessant need for attention always finding new, innovative ways to get it from you.

“Fuck you, what do you want?” you spit, eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

“There's so many things I want, but let's start with a simple task first.” he twirls a strand of his hair around his finger, pouting at you. Annoyance bubbles up inside of you, threatening to overflow.

“Be nice to me, won't you? I’ve put in so much effort into your seduction, give me some credit.” His definition of effort was distracting you long enough to snap two pairs of expensive looking handcuffs onto your wrists, but it was more elaborate than his usual routine, which was constantly being nuisance until you gave in. 

“Seduction? More like trickery, you dickhead.” he winces at your insult, clutching his chest over his heart, playing up his offense. 

He tuts at you, mimicking exactly what you did whenever he mouthed off at you. The lightbulb in your head finally clicks on. 

“You could have just told me you wanted attention.” your expression darkens as his eyes dart around, acting caught. That couldn't really be it, right? This was way to much extravagance, even for Matty 

“That's it, isn't it?” he waves a hand to dismiss your words and you scoff, bewildered and intrigued, wondering how long he was going to keep this up for until he finally gave up, letting you free. He spins around on the heel of his foot, hips swaying as took a few steps away from you 

“Watch me.” His voice is thick, sultry, different.

He faces you, his whole body shamelessly on display for you to gawk at. A thin white button down covers his chest, the first four buttons already open, showing traces of his tattoos. The leather trousers he wears look painted onto him, clinging to his legs, the waist of them so low it was obscene.

His fingers work at the remaining buttons as you drink him in, unabashedly staring at his lower half, the leather barely concealing his growing erection. 

The faint trail of hair under his belly button becomes visible as the shirt slips down his shoulders, pooling onto the ground next to his feet. His hands run over his skin, feeling himself up while you sit exactly three feet away, unable to do anything about it but watch, the sight driving you insane. 

He had never denied you like this before, always being ready and willing for you to touch him, feel him, graze your nails over his cock as his back arched into you, begging for relief. It had always been the other way around, Matty on his knees, pleading for your hands, mouth, anything. 

“You're so rough with me.” His voice is whiny as he makes eye contact with you, trailing his fingers over the myriad of hickeys and bite marks that littered his neck, all various shades of purple and red, some faded more than others.

“So aggressive, turns me on.” he breathes harshly, pressing down onto a particularly prominent mark, hissing at the pain that radiated from it. 

“Does it now?” you say, fighting to keep your composure.  

“Yeah.” he parts his lips provocatively, throwing his head back as his hands leave his throat, running through his tangled mess of curls instead.

“Is that why you wouldn't leave me alone at the party?” you try to keep your answers short and simple, attempting to conceal the blatant arousal clouding your mind. Your thighs clench together, your dress riding up slightly. 

“Among other things.” 

You swallow as he takes two steps towards you, his movements fluid and sensual, the look in his eye unrecognizable.

His hand suddenly grabs your face, squeezing it harshly between his fingers. Your lips pucker, a bit of drool falling onto his digits, and you can't do anything but take it, a foreign feeling taking over your body.

“Gorgeous.” he mutters, slipping his thumb past your parted lips. Breathless, you let him explore your mouth, saliva pooling on your tongue as he presses down. 

It all feels surreal, the way Matty just does, not once asking for permission. You can see that familiar glimmer in his eye, an unconscious urge to submit, to serve still present, even if his actions tell a completely different story.

“Do not take your eyes off me.” you nod mindlessly, like you’d ever dream of missing a second of what was happening in front of you. 

His slender fingers toy with the zipper of his trousers, and he smirks at the way you lunge forward, promptly hindered by the cuffs still around your wrists. You seem to keep forgetting that fact, your entire body on fire as he makes delicious eye contact with you, unbuttoning the leather. 

You stare, entranced by his movements, slow and deliberate, yet still never letting you get used to one singular thing. He pushes the trouser down, a hint of his underwear visible over the waistband.

Green catches your eye, and it's not until his fingers reach to snap the fabric against his skin that you realize what he’s wearing.  

“Let me out.” you warn, breathless. The panties you had eyed at that store, the ones he had put into the basket and paid for with a wink.

“No.”

“LET ME OUT.” you pull violently, yanking at the metal, hoping it would snap off or break or something, anything to get your hands on Matty. He chuckles at your reaction, raising his eyebrows as you cease your struggle 

“Where's the fun in that?” he says, palming himself through the underwear, moaning at the relief. You whine, rapidly tapping your foot against the floor when you realize that your efforts are futile. Leave it to Matty to buy handcuffs made out of titanium, even if the pink color of them made them look cheap. 

“Matty, let me out- you can't just- not when you look like that.” you choke, not knowing where to look as he sets his hands on your shoulders, grinning wildly, the expression on your face satisfying him.

“Relax, let it happen.” he coos into your ear, his legs moving to straddle you in the spacious chair.

His lips catch yours in a passionate kiss, your teeth clashing against each other in a mess of spit and tongue. You moan pathetically into his mouth, your mind clouded in lust and desperation, begging him to uncuff you.

You let yourself be kissed, his mouth slowly moving down your jaw, nipping the skin with his teeth, leaving light scratch marks in their wake. 

He alternates between sucking and biting your neck, the sensation making you dizzy with need, your thighs squeezing together in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

“What do you feel?” he asks, pulling away to get a good look at your face. His eyes dart over your face, drinking in the mess he’d reduced you to. 

“What?”

“You’re not in control, I have you. What do you feel?” he breathes against your ear, sucking the lobe between his teeth. Your breath hitches, a familiar heat spreading throughout your body, your nipples hardening under your dress as he cups your tits.

“It’s-” you gasp, being cut off by his erection grinding down onto your bare thigh.

“Good?” he finishes, the words dragged out as the pleasure blooms inside of him, all the blood in his head rushing south. 

“Amazing.” you know he cant help himself, and you tense your leg under him, feeling his cock twitch against you.

His arms wrap around your neck as he ruts against your thigh, moaning into your ear, holding nothing back. You whisper small praises back, encouraging him even if you don't want to, the blissed out look on his face making you crack a prideful smile. 

“Feels so good taking you like this, can't even put me in my place, can you?” he mumbles as the wet patch on the front of his panties grows larger, precum leaking onto your skin.

“You're fucking finished once I get out of this.” you threaten, fists clenching and unclenching around the armrests. 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” he deliberately pitches his voice, letting out performative moans as his hips stutter, the tip of his cock brushing against a rough bit of lace.

“God- fuck, you were onto something with these.” he snaps the waistband of his panties, hissing at the sting.

“Feels amazing, especially if it's you I'm rubbing up against.” his hand strokes your face, his chest and cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink as you eye him up and down, your lips slightly parted.  

“It’d feel so much better if you’d let me go.” you try, knowing it's futile to fight him. He pretends to ponder, stilling against your thigh as his eyes narrow in deep thought. You knew better than to believe it was a genuine debate, his filthy smirk returning when you realize he wasn't going to release you anytime soon. 

He laughs in your face, borderline delirious as he grinds against you, whimpering dirty strings of curses into your ear, his breath hot and intoxicating.

He uses you to get himself off, feeding off of the undivided attention you give him, your eyes never leaving his body. 

His moans grow louder as his cock leaks all over you, his panties completely ruined by now.

“F-fuck, i’m so close. Wanna watch me cum? See how good you make me feel- shit.”

Your pupils are blown out, eyes wide as you watch him cum with a choked groan, spilling all over your thigh, sullying the bottom part of your pretty dress.

Matty’s breathing is erratic, curses falling from his lips as he shakes from the force of his orgasm, his face buried into the crook of your neck as you squirm desperately.

“Are you satisfied?” you mumble, slightly fucked off at the fact that you hadn’t been able to touch him at all, that he had gotten there all on his own.

“Very.” his voice is muffled by your hair, his hands trailing up to cup your tits, groping them with a glint in his eye. You shiver under his touch, pleasure blooming from your chest.

“I could've done it better.” he chuckles at your words, pressing a sweet kiss to the side of your mouth.

“I know, but it was worth it seeing you all riled up.” you roll your eyes in annoyance, hips bucking upwards against the weight of him, searching for any sort of relief.

“Are you desperate?” he coos into your ear, his breath hot against your cheek as his fingers toy with the hem of your dress, covered in his cum.

You scoff at him, trying to calm down and steady your breath as he drops to his knees, nuzzling his face into your lap, peering up at you. 

He parts his lips, tongue lapping up the remnants of his orgasm, licking you clean. You feel the world spin around you, every single part of you screaming at him to you fucking do something.

“Please.” you force out, his hand parting your legs further.

“Oh?” there's a hint of victory in his voice, knowing he’s won. You were giving in, scooting to the edge of your seat, anything to get closer to him. 

His fingers push the lacey hem of your dress, your damp underwear visible against your aching cunt.

“You’re so wet, I can see it from here.” you blush, moving to close your legs. He stops your attempt, digging his nails into your skin.

“Keep them spread, m’gonna make you feel so good.” 

“I need you, please Matty fuck-” his palms grip your thighs as he mouths at your cunt, licking the fabric of your panties, occasionally grazing his teeth other your clothed clit. 

You whimper and moan, bucking into his mouth as he slips them off with his teeth, winking at you when you make eye contact. 

He balls your underwear up and throws it off to the side, forgotten, in the corner. Faced with your glistening core, he licks up your slit, relishing in the way you clench your walls around his tongue, getting lost in the taste of you. 

“It tastes so good, I could spend my whole life right here.” you can only whimper in response, the metal of the handcuffs around your wrists digging into your skin, the dull pain only amplifying the pleasure of Matty sucking your clit between his lips. 

Wet sounds fill the room as he lets you grind against his face, taking back a sliver of the control he had ripped away from you. You feel lightheaded, waves of pleasure washing over you as he doubles his efforts, almost as if trying to apologize for everything he had done to you up until this point. 

A particularly loud moan spills from your lips as he latches onto your clit once again, letting his teeth into the mix. It's slightly painful, but only adds to the overwhelming sensation, the elastic band in your core tightening more and more. He smirks and you feel it on your cunt, a filthy look on his face when he realizes you're close, only needing a little push to get you over that delicious edge. 

“Gonna cum for me? Make my face all dirty?” His voice is muffled, but you hear him loud and clear, his nails digging deep as he buries his tongue into your cunt, feeling you twitch and convulse, your orgasm so close you could taste it. 

“Oh god, i’m so close- fuck.”

“Cum all over my face, paint me yours.” he moans, sucking your clit between his wet lips, feeling you tense up, fingers clutching the armrests they were bound to for dear life. 

Your vision whites out for a few moments as you violently cum, thrashing and gasping for air as the pleasure washes over you in stages, Matty working you through it.

It takes a few moments for you to regain your position, Matty’s eyes peering up at you from his position on the ground, his mouth and chin covered in your slick. He licks his lips provocatively, moaning as the remnants of you hits his tongue, sickly sweet.  

He moves to uncuff you, your wrists an angry red from the fight you had put up earlier in the night. His mouth peppers light kisses over the bruises, quote un-quote “kissing it better”. It was endearing, watching him take such good care of you, even if you did insist that you were perfectly fine. 

“See how good it feels to let go?” he asks, trailing his fingers up your bare arm.

You nod, your hair sticking to your forehead as you breathe shallowly, completely exhausted. His expression is one of love, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You’re so pretty like this, all fucked out. Finally I get to see the other perspective.” you chuckle, his words ringing true 

This was the first time in your relationship the roles had been even slightly reversed, him restraining you instead of the other way round. His cocky and confident nature, one that usually crumbled after skilled touches and a few whispered words, stayed present the entire way through, stripping you of the control you were used to. 

You were never opposed to him taking on the more dominant role, it was just that neither the situation, nor the opportunity had ever presented itself, with Matty always being more naturally submissive, dropping to his knees in front of you at the flip of a switch. 

You smile at him fondly, delicate fingers reach out to cup his face softly, mindlessly swiping at the skin

“You’ll be seeing a lot more of it if it feels like that.” he sniggers, his eyes crinkling up as laughter fills your ears.

“Does this mean I get to take pictures too?” he sounds so hopeful, making it impossible to just say ‘no’. You huff instead, a smile spreading onto your face, telling him all he needed to know. 

[sugugasm]

𝟒𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐄 — ft. geto suguru

· ₊ ⊹ synopsis — geto loses his virginity.

「❀」 word count ! : 2.7k

「❀」 pairing : geto x fem! reader

「❀」 content warning ! : minors do not interact, virgin killer! reader, soft dom geto, reader instructs geto :p, sort of whiny geto, pussy whipped geto, cowgirl, missionary, slight choking, blowjob, protected sex.

「❀」 author’s note ! : oh my god i’m so so excited to share this. i haven’t written anything for my bby in so long, excuse any mistakes, this hasn’t been beta read. i thought of this randomly after listening to subby asmr yes i did. so so sorry ab the ending, ik it’s rushed, but i needed to finish this </3 special thank you to @venusflytrapstar for helping my tiny writers block. ur a gem.

the majority of geto's evening seemed to be going well. your and geto’s anniversary was a success after a beautiful meal at your preferred restaurant—his treat—and a romantic stargaze in the hill where your first date occurred.

well, that is, up until the two of you made it back home.

without saying anything, you had left the room and entered the bedroom. he trails you in confusion, a twinge of anxiety in his stomach. he’d considered whether he might have upset you in some way, but as soon as he opened the door, a much more exciting surprise greeted him.

his girlfriend—you— naked.

“you look.. fucking beautiful.”

you lift your hands up to your chest, kneading your breasts in your palms as you eye his every move. geto doesn’t take his eyes off of you, his piercing gaze never leaving your own as you part your lips to speak, “and you look nervous. am i making you nervous, geto?”

you lift your hands up to your chest, kneading your breasts in your palms as you eye his every move. geto doesn’t take his eyes off of you, his piercing gaze never leaving your own as you part your lips to speak, “and you look nervous. am i making you nervous, geto?”

he swallows, “a little bit, yeah.” he laughed, masking the cracking pitch of his voice, before losing himself in thought. you were aware that he was a virgin. you knew of it months before you started dating. it’s not that he didn't want to—you were absolutely gorgeous—but he was afraid of looking like an idiot. he didn't want you to think of him as an immature, inexperienced loser.

but to him, that’s exactly what he was.

“why’re you nervous? scared you’ll cum too quick?”

well, that was one of the things on the list.

“very funny,” he utters. getting up from your position, you inch your way toward geto, pressing your bare chest against his clothed one. geto couldn’t hold back the sudden arousal sitting in his pants. his cock was practically petting your thigh, and it gave him goosebumps.

“you’re so hard. i can feel it.”

untying the draw strings of his sweatpants, you reach a hand into his boxers, rubbing and cupping his balls in your palms— heavy, “they’re so full, baby. why don’t we fix that, hm?” your question got lost in translation the minute you began to lower down onto your knees. as your skin hits the cool, wooden floor, you kiss him through his boxers. the gray fabric felt soft on your lips, but geto’s hard on simply ruined that.

geto had already reached his peak when you eventually stopped teasing him, leaving you with a stiff cock in your hand. he was big and quite girthy. pretty. his length was further defined by veins that protruded from the base all the way to the skin before his tip. geto was shuddering in your grasp, and although he was trying to shield it, you read right through him.

“god, baby. you’re so handsome like this. i should've done this a long time ago, don’t you think?” your teasing antics seemed to be successful. each syllable you spoke was accompanied by a little groan for the man above you. he had his arms resting beside him with his fist bawled in what looked like anticipation. he was waiting for you to make some sort of movement, but you wanted to take it slow tonight.

“yn, do something please,” he whines we’re humoring you. you begin to pump him at a slow pace. the pre-cum beginning to leak from his tip made the process all the more smoother, the self made lubricant giving you a boost.

“something like what? you have to use your words, geto.”

geto could almost roll his eyes at your games but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t making him fall apart. you hadn’t even stuck it in your mouth yet and he wondered how difficult it’ll be when he finally gets the chance to cram you full of him. call him a creep, but he always pondered about what it would feel like— your walls, gripping and pulling on him as you cry out his name for more, your tits bouncing with every thrust, and your body reacting to the pressure of an orgasm that he brought you too.

perfect, it would be perfect.

“in your mouth..” he finally answers. it was only a matter of time before your mouth met the tip of his cock, starting off with a slow lick to the slit. you then move to the base, kissing the skin near his shaft and moaning while doing so. geto didn’t know this, but you were getting more pleasure out of this than he was. you just couldn’t wait to see the look in his eyes when he empties himself in your mouth. and hey, depending on the playful mood you’re in, you might even tease him some more.

“you’re so pretty. so, so fuckin’ pretty.”

sappy. typical geto.

you suck on his cock as if it’s a pacifier, placing your hands on his thighs as you bob your head back and forth. the suckling sounds and your grip had geto stumbling back a bit, his hand finding the wall as he leaned back to watch you work your magic. he was as hard as a brick and your enthusiasm about it all wasn’t helping his case.

“wait, wait, wait, baby- fuck!”

you didn’t wait, you just kept going— and now, at a faster pace. you were gawking around him, your throat closing and then opening right back up again. it made everything worse when you made eye contact with him. geto was already in love, but this? this was heaven— his heaven.

“stop looking at me like that,” he mumbles, “i’ll cum soon-“

you release him to catch your breath and share a few words, “that’s the goal, baby. can you be a good boy and cum ‘f me,” you ask, swallowing him once again. as your throat grew accustomed to expanding and shutting around him, it became easier to take in more of him. with tears threatening to spill from your eye sockets, you squeezed your thumbs and did your best to get as much of him into your mouth as you could.

tiny crescent marks tainted your palms and the waterworks were rolling. geto hadn’t said a full sentence in a minute, making your eyes open to shoot him a glance.

and god, was he beautiful.

he hadn’t even gotten the chance to slip inside and he was already so sensitive. his eyebrows were furrowed, his bottom lip was sandwhiched in between his teeth, and his eyes had fallen just enough to look directly into yours. he hadn’t even realized how out of it he was.

you pull your mouth away from him to resume pumping him like earlier. with a drool covered mouth, you smile and politely say, “c’mon suguru, i know you wanna’ let it go.”

“fuck, fuuck! i do, i do. please make me cum, yn- shit!”

begging. it was exactly what you wanted to hear, and now that you’d achieved your goal, it was only right for your good boy to be rewarded, “yeah? i know you do. i can see it all over your pretty face. you’re so cute when you’re needy,” you giggle.

just then, geto started to fuck into your hand, desperate to finally unravel everything he’d composed. deciding to let him have this one, you allow him to ride out his orgasm. you’d done quite enough, and seeing him this way was much, much more entertaining.

“i’m cumming, i’m cumming. fuuuck me- yes!”

you yearned to hear more of the groans coming from his mouth. when his cries finally subsided, you rose from your knees and walked him over to the bed.

now, this was both nerve-wracking and exciting. geto didn’t really have a clue what to do other than the basics; move your hips and keep your rhythm. yes, he’d watched porn before, but those were never true to life. the actors were primarily simply doing what they do best, which is acting. all of it was a scam. the only knowledge to be attained was how to do everything incorrectly.

“i don’t know how to do this,” he blurts out, catching your attention before you could make any further movements, “i really like you- love you, actually. i don’t wanna’ fuck this shit up, y’know?”

you smile, sensitive eyes blinking up at him, “you won’t, trust me. you have an excellent teacher,” you smirk and take your place on the mattress. he was angsty, but he trusted you, and he wouldn’t do anything he wasn’t comfortable with— you wouldn’t allow him to.

you smile, sensitive eyes blinking up at him, “you won’t, trust me. you have an excellent teacher,” you smirk and take your place on the mattress. he was angsty, but he trusted you, and he wouldn’t do anything he wasn’t comfortable with— you wouldn’t allow him to.

he suddenly feels your cool hands cover his cock with a condom. he would’ve surely appreciated a fair warning before hand, because the same rush he felt earlier had returned and so did his boner. “can you take your shirt off for me?” you ask, patting the mattress for him to take a seat soon after. “i don’t want you to do all the work,” he whines, joking you and resting his head against your pink pillow.

“it’s your first time. it’s okay to be a pillow princess.”

“take that back, for real.”

after sharing a laugh, the time finally comes. your pink acrylics wrap around geto’s cock and you feel him flinch at your touch. your hands were still cold, but your pussy would be warming him up soon.

“fuck, geto. look at you, fitting right in, baby.”

putting him inside wasn't difficult, but keeping him inside would surely be challenging. despite how much of a godsend it was, you were just so wet. it was just so sexy seeing him in this position. surely you enjoyed being tossed around occasionally, but controlling a man's orgasm had a distinct quality to it.

“shit, princess.” geto’s hands hold on to your hips as you slowly begin to glide up and down his cock. you started with just the tip first, getting him used to your walls. you were trying your best not to squeeze him too hard, but it was difficult not to.

although it was just the tip, it was driving you absolutely crazy, “how do i feel, suguru?” you ask, hands grazing his chest and shoulders as you gradually accept more of him inside of you. your tits we’re hanging so prettily in his face, nipples harder than ever. the urge to shove one in his mouth came over you quickly but was soon suppressed. you wanted him to make progress on his own.

“so good. s-so motherfuckin’ good,” he groans and it was almost like he read your mind. to your surprise, geto latches his mouth on to one of your breasts. his tongue swirled around your nipple as he sucked and tugged on it like it was his last meal.

and he couldn’t show favorites.

moving his hands from your hips, he cups your tits and his hands and kneads either. sucking on one while massaging the other, “keep going,” he utters, letting go to take a breath, “keep fuckin’ me, just like that.”

that caused you to show out now, your hips rotating in circles as you threw your ass back— now slamming you down onto him a bit harder, “just like this?”

“yes, baby- fuck!” he closes his eyes and wraps his arms around your waist. kisses are placed on your neck and chest before geto quickly buries his head between your tits. his man-bun was starting to fall apart, and so was he. you start to feel geto pulse inside of you and you knew he’d be cumming soon.

“you wanna’ cum? hm? it’s okay, suguru. i know i’m making you feel so good. it’s alright to let go.”

only then did he start to thrust upward to mirror the motion of your hips. his cock was now hitting the sweet spot much more quickly thanks to your power and his combined, “i wanna’ cum, pretty girl. please make me c-cum,” he chants several pleas as he slams your hips down onto his lap. he was more than just needy, he was desperate.

he was so close and you were bouncing on his cock like it was life or death. it became impossible for him to hold back from the buildup. geto hardly gave you a chance to speak before taking the plunge to pin you down. he needed to fuck you, and he was completely bottoming out. while he was shifting positions, he was too greedy to stop. you could still feel him pushing into your cunt even while in the process of laying you against the sheets.

“suguru- baby, you were so close-“

it was his first time and all, and maybe pleasuring him for the night was your goal, but he couldn’t help himself. you looked too good, and you felt even better. you’d already given him an enormous about of pleasure, now it was your turn.

“just let me fuck you, baby. i promise i’ll give it to you right, please open up ‘f me.”

you didn’t know where the wave of confidence came from, but you definitely didn’t hate it. his sensual, yet assertive manner had you ready to submit already, “if you need any help i’ll be right here to- oh fuck!”

your words were abruptly cut short when geto sent you a hard stroke. it was like he already knew exactly where to poke at, “shit, baby. wrappin’ around me like a glove,” he states, keeping a steady eye on your facial expressions.

your expressions were creased with both pleasure and anguish. geto gave you strong, prolonged thrusts that caused the mattress beneath you to squeak, as if forgetting how enormous he was already. your entire body was rocking at the same rhythm of the your skin slapping against one another’s.

“s-suguru, ‘s so deep..inside m-me,” you stutter, lifting your head to look at him continuously fuck you dumb. he was chasing his orgasm and yours, hoping to be able to finish with your cream coating his dick till you had nothing left to give.

“you’re such a sweetheart, aren’t you? letting me fuck you like this to get myself off, but you wanna’ cum too, don’t you?”

you could do nothing more than nod in agreement while biting your bottom lip. by watching his cock move in and out of you, you were nearly put into a trance. more of your essence spilled onto him with each retraction he made.

“‘m gonna’ cum, suguru. i love you- love your dick s-so much.” slurring your speech made it seem as though geto was performing much better than he believed he was. with his hand raised to your neck and a light pressure applied to the side near your ear, geto, whose orgasm was trailing closely behind your own, was making eye contact with you.

he could feel your small hand hold on to his wrist for support. he was fucking you enough to make your eyes cross, whimpers broken just enough to arouse him some more, “m’ cumming, daddy. ‘m cumming-fuck! yess, ooh!”

he spilled everything he had into the condom after hearing the nickname, which was more than enough for him. the warm liquids could still be felt in your stomach even though he wasn't precisely filling you.

“fuuuck, yn. i fuckin’ love you. so much, pretty girl, so much.” hurrying his head into your shoulder, he continues to fuck you until you’re ready to cum again.

and you do.

you felt completely drained, not only from the hard work from earlier, but from geto’s cock basically wringing out all of the cum you could produce. geto pulled out and left a smile on your face, “not too bad for a virgin, huh?”

you smile, “not too bad. not too bad at all.

©️ SUUNMIC 2023

tags : @venusflytrapstar @hiraizens @ryujnn @takemichiluvr

[ollie-lolly]

Royal sugar lovin 18+ (Diavolo x reader)

Sugar daddy! Diavolo x gender neutral reader

part one This is part two part three

Warning: Straight up smut love~

Started on 13th of march 2023

finished on: 18th of march 2023

Note: It looks like someone ordered an organ rearrangement. It wasn't me i swear

Contains: Sex (duh), getting babied, smut with plot, soft dom Diavolo, breaking the bed oops, insecure reader, is it obvious that i have a praise kink?

word count: 1218

You quickly rushed down the hallway to change. With excitement, you started unraveling the gift. In the small box was an outfit, matching your ring's colors. You were in awe of how beautifully it was made but also how…little material there was. Wait, what if he didn't like the way your body looked? "Monarch? Are you okay there?" you gasped when you heard him right outside the door. "Yeah just nervous as all" you slowly opened the door. You looked him in the eye as he drank in every feature. "You look beautiful, my monarch," he uttered. "Thank you daddy" he took your hand. "Would you mind if I picked you up, my love?".  "If it doesn't bother you". He proceeded to gently pick you up as if you weighed nothing. "I have a surprise for you waiting in another room."

After a short walk, the both of you arrived in a room you have never seen. It centered a giant soft velvet couch. He sat down and placed you on his lap. Softly kissing the top of your head. You noticed that there was a lavish collection of your favorite foods resting on the giant wooden table. "Do you like it, monarch?". You were speechless "It is wonderful". You noticed an expensive bottle of demonus. "May I pour for you?". He stroked your hair "I would be honored". You slowly started filling his glass with demonus that was probably older than your whole human family combined. As you poured a question bubbled up in your mind. "May I ask a question?" his hand slithered around you grabbing the now filled cup in your hand. "Of course". Your body started heating up. "How did you know my size?" He swirled the demonus in his hand and rested his elbow on the frame of the couch. "I simply took the size of your uniform and made it slightly smaller. I couldn't help myself, dear human. I just knew you would look absolutely ravishing in it." He eyed you up lustfully. "And I definitely was not wrong". You lowered your head and looked at the outfit. "I understand that you are nervous, it's the first time you are so exposed to me like this. Remember you can change or stop at anypoint, just know I find you incredibly sexy". You looked back up to see the most genuine smile you have ever seen.

"Thank you. I just want to ease into all this you know " "Take your time my love" he gently kissed your hand. You took the time to eat some of the lovely food that was prepared and your nervousness started to fade. "Is it okay if I touch you?". You giggled and straddled his lap. "Is this better?". He dropped some of the demonus in his glass out of surprise, spilling it on you ."I am so sorry, may I clean it off you?" "Of course". What you didn't expect was that he leaned in and licked all the demonus off your body, whilst he pushed you further into him. He softly licked your neck. You started grinding on him for some friction."Are you sure you want this? You know how rather…large I am." You grabbed his hand and placed it on your heat. "I trust you-" you felt him smile against your neck "to go as hard as you want, please ruin me" he faced you with widened eyes "Is that so? Well let's not disappoint you then". He picked you up and took you to his room. Placing you on the satin sheets.

He started unbuttoning his shirt and pants, letting them drop to the floor. He slowly hovered over you, cupping your face gently. "What safeword do you want my dear?". You firmly felt his knee move between your legs. "Is red okay for now?". He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. "It's more than okay, my monarch." you let out a soft moan when you felt him litter hickeys all over your body. You felt him getting a bit rougher as time went on: biting, scratching, pushing his leg on to you and groaning softly. "May I take this off?" he played with a strap of your little outfit. "Please do" you whispered, starting to feel antsy. You could tell that it was not just you who was beginning to lose their patience. As he ripped your clothes off in one clean tug. "Excuse me, I got a little too excited dear, I have been wondering for an embarrassing amount of time how you would look like nude, how you would look in my bed, how you would look when you climax for only my eyes to see." He grabbed your hand and started tracing his body lower and lower. "Please don't think of me as a savage, it was always my intention to spoil you rotten, to pamper you, to make you feel comfortable" You reached his pulsating member, already seeing a pre-cum wet spot beginning to form. "I want to give all of myself to you and stuff you full." You stopped his hand and carefully tugged his underwear off. "I would really like that" you muttered trying to keep eye contact.

You softly started stroking him, gently pinching his tip. His hand began to play with your sex. "I am glad you feel the same way" he remarked when he felt how ready you were for him. He started slowly going in and out. Curving his fingers while his other hand twisted your sensitive bud. He slowly pulled his fingers out of you and slid himself in. He panted heavily, trying so hard too not to just absolutely pound right into you. You felt his hands on the side of your head dig further into the mattress. You pushed yourself further into him, earning an audible groan from him. His pace quickened, feeling your insides turn into mush. You moaned loudly, wanting to cover your face but you were suddenly pinned down at the wrists. "You are doing amazing darling," he praised. "Keep moaning for me". He swiftly folded you into a mating press. You scratched his back out of overwhelming pleasure. It was so much deeper than before. Your legs began to feel limb as you felt his tip prodding your insides. "I feel you tightening my monarch, I am close too". He let go of your wrists and gripped the bedframe tightly. You felt the bed shake when he painted your insides white and your climax arrived. You suddenly heard the bed break.

Your weight shifted, your body tipped towards the bed frame. Thankfully cushioned by a luxurious pillow. "Focus on me darling, you are doing so well for me." He kept thrusting as you rode out your orgasm. At the end of it you were a panting mess. He was a little out of breath. "Can I pull out now?" you slowly nodded. When he pulled out he carried you to another bed to calm down. "Rest here my little monarch, I'll make a bath for you. I will be right back" Before he left you tugged on his leg. "Hm?" he turned around "Thank you daddy".

Lets just say Barbatos was traumatized of the what was now called 'the broken bed incident'

Tag list &lt;3: @l3viat8an @makotoarashi @bakusquadobsessed @yeahno28 @hxllprince

Please let me know if you have a problem with being tagged. If that is the case i am sorry in advance

[silverynight]

Benefits and privileges

When Tanjirou wakes up, the mist hashira is in his room again. It's early in the morning so he knows Nezuko is back in her box.

He moves in order to sit on the ground and notices the way Tokito is staring at him, although Tanjirou has gotten used to his personality in the past days.

"Hi, Tokito-san!" He grins. "Do you want to have breakfast with me?"

The mist hashira nods, but this time he rises from the floor, opens the door and gives instructions to someone in the hallway.

Tanjirou is a little bit curious and he's about to ask what's going on when someone gets inside with a LOT of food. Everything looks absolutely delicious.

At first he thinks perhaps Tokito is like the love hashira and has a huge appetite, but the man puts almost all the food on Tanjirou's side of the table.

"Thanks!" Good thing he's really hungry that morning. Although they have never served him that amount of food. Actually, everything looks even more delicious than the other day.

As soon as they leave them alone, Tokito gets closer to him.

"You're a very low rank in the Corps," that's the first thing he says to Tanjirou, making the redhead nod in embarrassment.

"I know," he mumbles. "But I'll train everyday to–"

"You could rank up faster, you know?"

"Really?" Tanjirou turns his head to look at him, already invested in whatever he's going to say. Maybe Tokito wants to share a training technique with him?

The mist hashira smiles back at him; he has a fond expression on his face.

"Absolutely. You just have to marry a hashira."

Tanjirou knows Tokito doesn't joke so he doesn't laugh, but he does blush and smiles nervously back at him. It's obvious he has no idea that's pretty much impossible for him, he's not... He knows no one is interested in him, at least in that way.

"Thanks for the advice, but–"

"Listen, Tanjirou," Tokito cuts him off, getting even closer. "There are a lot of benefits that come with being one of the Pillars' husband. You'll receive the same training as a tsuguko, all the kakushi and other slayers have to treat you the same way they treat a hashira, you'll get better food, better equipment... You'll get the best swordsmiths. Your sister will be welcome anywhere..."

"That sounds really great," Tanjirou cuts him off, knowing his face is still red. "But I don't think they want to marry me. Although I thank you for–"

"I'll marry you," Tokito offers, eyes glimmering with excitement. It's weird to see him showing any kind of emotion, but in a good way.

Tanjirou scratches his cheek nervously; his face feels like is burning still.

"I appreciate it, but you don't have to do that for me."

"I want to," Tokito says immediately, getting a little bit desperate. He grabs Tanjirou's hands with his. "You can be my husband."

Wow. Tokito sure is a good person and a good friend; offering him to do that just to help Tanjirou. The redhead is very touched by his gesture.

"I honestly don't want to ruin your chances with another per–"

"I make more money than you!" The mist hashira says suddenly. "I know that's something that people like... I've heard it before..."

"Yeah, but I'm not–"

"Nezuko can have anything she wants!" Tokito insists, pulling Tanjirou into a hug and nuzzling against his cheek. "I'll tell them to prepare a special room for her in my estate. She'll be safe there."

That's honestly very tempting. Tanjirou looks back at the wooden box in the room and imagines her running around happily in a place that no one can hurt her.

Blushing, Tanjirou hopes he's not taking advantage of Tokito's friendship when he says: "Maybe a cute kimono for her? She always wanted one."

"Anything."

If the mist hashira is willing to do that for him, then the least Tanjirou can do is to make him happy or try to.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes." He replies without hesitation.

"Okay, let's get married then!"

The smile on Tokito's face is so wide, but he looks good when he's happy. He leans to kiss Tanjirou's face before pressing his lips against the redhead's quickly.

"I'll let Oyakata-sama know."

Alright... It seems he's getting married soon.

***

Patreon

[lenaspeaksthings]

Do you see me? - Matty Healy

A/N: okay it's sort of short and a bit shit and i played around with the dynamic so it might seem off xx thanks @dh--ii you absolute legend for finding the titles for my blurbs by scouring the 1975's discography based off my extremely vague parameters❤️

wc: 3.5k

content warnings: matty in lingerie (again), mpind typical cursing, bondage (handcuffs), thigh riding, cumplay, begging, switch! Matty, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, matty being a knob as per use

Your head is throbbing, the beat of the shitty house music still echoing in your skull even twenty minutes later. Matty is hanging on your arm, weighing you down as he rambles on about how shit the drinks were, and that you shouldn't have bothered going out in the first place. He was right, the diluted alcohol and trashy EDM ruining a perfectly good sunday night, better spent at an actual club instead of some random blokes house. 

Matty’s hands grip your back as you push the front door open, keeping his balance as the platform boots he had borrowed from you made it quite difficult to walk normally. The light in the foyer automatically comes on, the fancy motion sensors painting the space in a warm glow, casting a shadow over the unorganized pile of shoes on the floor.  

His hands run up your sides as you toe your heels off, tugging your dress down when it rides up, lace scratching the skin of your thighs. Your choice of attire this evening was a tight bodycon dress, red lace details adorning the neckline and bottom hem, a pretty contrast against the black fabric, clinging to your body like a second skin. Matty’s mouth fell open when he saw you slip it on, adjusting its straps in the floor length mirror in your bedroom. 

“Look so pretty tonight, love this dress on you.” he mumbled as his eyes raked up and down your body, drinking you in. 

The party was a flop, both of you promising never to go to that specific house ever again, also deciding to better stay clear of the friend that had extended the invite. 

Since you arrived, his hands were always on some part of your body, whether they were wrapped around your waist, resting on your lower back, or intertwined with yours, his thumb rubbing small circles into the back of your hand. 

Matty leans down to press a kiss to your glossed lips, a peck quickly transforming into his fingers weaving into your hair, pulling you against him. You give into his touch, your bodies flush as he pushes you backwards in the direction of the living room, your knees hitting something wooden. 

“Just- yeah, this is better.” he says as he seats you down onto his posh little decorative chair, the wood smooth against the back of your thighs. Matty’s favorite piece of furniture was a oak wood sitting room chair, the armrests cared to look like trees and flowers, painted in pretty pastels. You always found it a bit morbid, seeing as a tree had died to create it, and painting its living counterpart onto a corpse wasn't really to your taste. 

His lips are hot against yours, tongue licking into your mouth with fervor as you sigh into the kiss, letting your eyes droop closed. Your breathing is heavy, chest heaving against his as he leans over you, dominating the kiss. It felt odd, him above you while you let him kiss you, not the other way around. Lost in your thoughts, you don't even notice one of his hands stop touching you. 

The click is impossible loud as you feel a cool sensation on the skin of your wrist. Your eyes snap open, landing on Matty first before dragging down to your left hand, a pair of handcuffs coming into view. It takes a few seconds for it to actually click. Handcuffs. Matty had handcuffs, and they were on you, also on the armrest. Wait, what? 

Matty chuckles at your confusion, taking the opportunity to reach into his back pocket, pulling out another pair, snapping them onto your right wrist before you could even react properly.   

“What the fuck- Matty?” you sound a bit panicked, tugging at the restraints, not really understanding the purpose of his actions. That was, until you see a filthy smirk spread onto your boyfriend's face.

“Let me out, I swear to fucking god. I don't care what you are playing at.” you resort to immediately throwing around threats, the feeling of being trapped overwhelming you. All he does is watch you struggle, a mischievous expression on his face. 

He presses a finger to your lips, shushing you condescending as cures spill from your lips, the metal of the handcuffs harshly digging into your skin.

“In a bind?” he taunts, his hand stroking your face as you glare at him, not liking the lack of control you possessed. It felt strange, your eyes searching his for a hint of humor, maybe this was a prank? A crude joke to rile you up, his incessant need for attention always finding new, innovative ways to get it from you.

“Fuck you, what do you want?” you spit, eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

“There's so many things I want, but let's start with a simple task first.” he twirls a strand of his hair around his finger, pouting at you. Annoyance bubbles up inside of you, threatening to overflow.

“Be nice to me, won't you? I’ve put in so much effort into your seduction, give me some credit.” His definition of effort was distracting you long enough to snap two pairs of expensive looking handcuffs onto your wrists, but it was more elaborate than his usual routine, which was constantly being nuisance until you gave in. 

“Seduction? More like trickery, you dickhead.” he winces at your insult, clutching his chest over his heart, playing up his offense. 

He tuts at you, mimicking exactly what you did whenever he mouthed off at you. The lightbulb in your head finally clicks on. 

“You could have just told me you wanted attention.” your expression darkens as his eyes dart around, acting caught. That couldn't really be it, right? This was way to much extravagance, even for Matty 

“That's it, isn't it?” he waves a hand to dismiss your words and you scoff, bewildered and intrigued, wondering how long he was going to keep this up for until he finally gave up, letting you free. He spins around on the heel of his foot, hips swaying as took a few steps away from you 

“Watch me.” His voice is thick, sultry, different.

He faces you, his whole body shamelessly on display for you to gawk at. A thin white button down covers his chest, the first four buttons already open, showing traces of his tattoos. The leather trousers he wears look painted onto him, clinging to his legs, the waist of them so low it was obscene.

His fingers work at the remaining buttons as you drink him in, unabashedly staring at his lower half, the leather barely concealing his growing erection. 

The faint trail of hair under his belly button becomes visible as the shirt slips down his shoulders, pooling onto the ground next to his feet. His hands run over his skin, feeling himself up while you sit exactly three feet away, unable to do anything about it but watch, the sight driving you insane. 

He had never denied you like this before, always being ready and willing for you to touch him, feel him, graze your nails over his cock as his back arched into you, begging for relief. It had always been the other way around, Matty on his knees, pleading for your hands, mouth, anything. 

“You're so rough with me.” His voice is whiny as he makes eye contact with you, trailing his fingers over the myriad of hickeys and bite marks that littered his neck, all various shades of purple and red, some faded more than others.

“So aggressive, turns me on.” he breathes harshly, pressing down onto a particularly prominent mark, hissing at the pain that radiated from it. 

“Does it now?” you say, fighting to keep your composure.  

“Yeah.” he parts his lips provocatively, throwing his head back as his hands leave his throat, running through his tangled mess of curls instead.

“Is that why you wouldn't leave me alone at the party?” you try to keep your answers short and simple, attempting to conceal the blatant arousal clouding your mind. Your thighs clench together, your dress riding up slightly. 

“Among other things.” 

You swallow as he takes two steps towards you, his movements fluid and sensual, the look in his eye unrecognizable.

His hand suddenly grabs your face, squeezing it harshly between his fingers. Your lips pucker, a bit of drool falling onto his digits, and you can't do anything but take it, a foreign feeling taking over your body.

“Gorgeous.” he mutters, slipping his thumb past your parted lips. Breathless, you let him explore your mouth, saliva pooling on your tongue as he presses down. 

It all feels surreal, the way Matty just does, not once asking for permission. You can see that familiar glimmer in his eye, an unconscious urge to submit, to serve still present, even if his actions tell a completely different story.

“Do not take your eyes off me.” you nod mindlessly, like you’d ever dream of missing a second of what was happening in front of you. 

His slender fingers toy with the zipper of his trousers, and he smirks at the way you lunge forward, promptly hindered by the cuffs still around your wrists. You seem to keep forgetting that fact, your entire body on fire as he makes delicious eye contact with you, unbuttoning the leather. 

You stare, entranced by his movements, slow and deliberate, yet still never letting you get used to one singular thing. He pushes the trouser down, a hint of his underwear visible over the waistband.

Green catches your eye, and it's not until his fingers reach to snap the fabric against his skin that you realize what he’s wearing.  

“Let me out.” you warn, breathless. The panties you had eyed at that store, the ones he had put into the basket and paid for with a wink.

“No.”

“LET ME OUT.” you pull violently, yanking at the metal, hoping it would snap off or break or something, anything to get your hands on Matty. He chuckles at your reaction, raising his eyebrows as you cease your struggle 

“Where's the fun in that?” he says, palming himself through the underwear, moaning at the relief. You whine, rapidly tapping your foot against the floor when you realize that your efforts are futile. Leave it to Matty to buy handcuffs made out of titanium, even if the pink color of them made them look cheap. 

“Matty, let me out- you can't just- not when you look like that.” you choke, not knowing where to look as he sets his hands on your shoulders, grinning wildly, the expression on your face satisfying him.

“Relax, let it happen.” he coos into your ear, his legs moving to straddle you in the spacious chair.

His lips catch yours in a passionate kiss, your teeth clashing against each other in a mess of spit and tongue. You moan pathetically into his mouth, your mind clouded in lust and desperation, begging him to uncuff you.

You let yourself be kissed, his mouth slowly moving down your jaw, nipping the skin with his teeth, leaving light scratch marks in their wake. 

He alternates between sucking and biting your neck, the sensation making you dizzy with need, your thighs squeezing together in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

“What do you feel?” he asks, pulling away to get a good look at your face. His eyes dart over your face, drinking in the mess he’d reduced you to. 

“What?”

“You’re not in control, I have you. What do you feel?” he breathes against your ear, sucking the lobe between his teeth. Your breath hitches, a familiar heat spreading throughout your body, your nipples hardening under your dress as he cups your tits.

“It’s-” you gasp, being cut off by his erection grinding down onto your bare thigh.

“Good?” he finishes, the words dragged out as the pleasure blooms inside of him, all the blood in his head rushing south. 

“Amazing.” you know he cant help himself, and you tense your leg under him, feeling his cock twitch against you.

His arms wrap around your neck as he ruts against your thigh, moaning into your ear, holding nothing back. You whisper small praises back, encouraging him even if you don't want to, the blissed out look on his face making you crack a prideful smile. 

“Feels so good taking you like this, can't even put me in my place, can you?” he mumbles as the wet patch on the front of his panties grows larger, precum leaking onto your skin.

“You're fucking finished once I get out of this.” you threaten, fists clenching and unclenching around the armrests. 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” he deliberately pitches his voice, letting out performative moans as his hips stutter, the tip of his cock brushing against a rough bit of lace.

“God- fuck, you were onto something with these.” he snaps the waistband of his panties, hissing at the sting.

“Feels amazing, especially if it's you I'm rubbing up against.” his hand strokes your face, his chest and cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink as you eye him up and down, your lips slightly parted.  

“It’d feel so much better if you’d let me go.” you try, knowing it's futile to fight him. He pretends to ponder, stilling against your thigh as his eyes narrow in deep thought. You knew better than to believe it was a genuine debate, his filthy smirk returning when you realize he wasn't going to release you anytime soon. 

He laughs in your face, borderline delirious as he grinds against you, whimpering dirty strings of curses into your ear, his breath hot and intoxicating.

He uses you to get himself off, feeding off of the undivided attention you give him, your eyes never leaving his body. 

His moans grow louder as his cock leaks all over you, his panties completely ruined by now.

“F-fuck, i’m so close. Wanna watch me cum? See how good you make me feel- shit.”

Your pupils are blown out, eyes wide as you watch him cum with a choked groan, spilling all over your thigh, sullying the bottom part of your pretty dress.

Matty’s breathing is erratic, curses falling from his lips as he shakes from the force of his orgasm, his face buried into the crook of your neck as you squirm desperately.

“Are you satisfied?” you mumble, slightly fucked off at the fact that you hadn’t been able to touch him at all, that he had gotten there all on his own.

“Very.” his voice is muffled by your hair, his hands trailing up to cup your tits, groping them with a glint in his eye. You shiver under his touch, pleasure blooming from your chest.

“I could've done it better.” he chuckles at your words, pressing a sweet kiss to the side of your mouth.

“I know, but it was worth it seeing you all riled up.” you roll your eyes in annoyance, hips bucking upwards against the weight of him, searching for any sort of relief.

“Are you desperate?” he coos into your ear, his breath hot against your cheek as his fingers toy with the hem of your dress, covered in his cum.

You scoff at him, trying to calm down and steady your breath as he drops to his knees, nuzzling his face into your lap, peering up at you. 

He parts his lips, tongue lapping up the remnants of his orgasm, licking you clean. You feel the world spin around you, every single part of you screaming at him to you fucking do something.

“Please.” you force out, his hand parting your legs further.

“Oh?” there's a hint of victory in his voice, knowing he’s won. You were giving in, scooting to the edge of your seat, anything to get closer to him. 

His fingers push the lacey hem of your dress, your damp underwear visible against your aching cunt.

“You’re so wet, I can see it from here.” you blush, moving to close your legs. He stops your attempt, digging his nails into your skin.

“Keep them spread, m’gonna make you feel so good.” 

“I need you, please Matty fuck-” his palms grip your thighs as he mouths at your cunt, licking the fabric of your panties, occasionally grazing his teeth other your clothed clit. 

You whimper and moan, bucking into his mouth as he slips them off with his teeth, winking at you when you make eye contact. 

He balls your underwear up and throws it off to the side, forgotten, in the corner. Faced with your glistening core, he licks up your slit, relishing in the way you clench your walls around his tongue, getting lost in the taste of you. 

“It tastes so good, I could spend my whole life right here.” you can only whimper in response, the metal of the handcuffs around your wrists digging into your skin, the dull pain only amplifying the pleasure of Matty sucking your clit between his lips. 

Wet sounds fill the room as he lets you grind against his face, taking back a sliver of the control he had ripped away from you. You feel lightheaded, waves of pleasure washing over you as he doubles his efforts, almost as if trying to apologize for everything he had done to you up until this point. 

A particularly loud moan spills from your lips as he latches onto your clit once again, letting his teeth into the mix. It's slightly painful, but only adds to the overwhelming sensation, the elastic band in your core tightening more and more. He smirks and you feel it on your cunt, a filthy look on his face when he realizes you're close, only needing a little push to get you over that delicious edge. 

“Gonna cum for me? Make my face all dirty?” His voice is muffled, but you hear him loud and clear, his nails digging deep as he buries his tongue into your cunt, feeling you twitch and convulse, your orgasm so close you could taste it. 

“Oh god, i’m so close- fuck.”

“Cum all over my face, paint me yours.” he moans, sucking your clit between his wet lips, feeling you tense up, fingers clutching the armrests they were bound to for dear life. 

Your vision whites out for a few moments as you violently cum, thrashing and gasping for air as the pleasure washes over you in stages, Matty working you through it.

It takes a few moments for you to regain your position, Matty’s eyes peering up at you from his position on the ground, his mouth and chin covered in your slick. He licks his lips provocatively, moaning as the remnants of you hits his tongue, sickly sweet.  

He moves to uncuff you, your wrists an angry red from the fight you had put up earlier in the night. His mouth peppers light kisses over the bruises, quote un-quote “kissing it better”. It was endearing, watching him take such good care of you, even if you did insist that you were perfectly fine. 

“See how good it feels to let go?” he asks, trailing his fingers up your bare arm.

You nod, your hair sticking to your forehead as you breathe shallowly, completely exhausted. His expression is one of love, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You’re so pretty like this, all fucked out. Finally I get to see the other perspective.” you chuckle, his words ringing true 

This was the first time in your relationship the roles had been even slightly reversed, him restraining you instead of the other way round. His cocky and confident nature, one that usually crumbled after skilled touches and a few whispered words, stayed present the entire way through, stripping you of the control you were used to. 

You were never opposed to him taking on the more dominant role, it was just that neither the situation, nor the opportunity had ever presented itself, with Matty always being more naturally submissive, dropping to his knees in front of you at the flip of a switch. 

You smile at him fondly, delicate fingers reach out to cup his face softly, mindlessly swiping at the skin

“You’ll be seeing a lot more of it if it feels like that.” he sniggers, his eyes crinkling up as laughter fills your ears.

“Does this mean I get to take pictures too?” he sounds so hopeful, making it impossible to just say ‘no’. You huff instead, a smile spreading onto your face, telling him all he needed to know. 

[kensiolo]

not for me.

⚠️TW⚠️ fainting, overthinking, crying, angst

accidentally made it anxiety girlfriend instead of shy girlfriend but i was SO close 😭

~~~

“my love, ready to go out yet?” matt says, looking all fancy in his suit.

“yeah…” you reply back, feeling really unsure and nervous about deciding to go to a fancy restaurant with fancy people and fancy food… what if you embarrass yourself? what if you mess something up?

“hey… you feeling okay?” matt kneels down beside you to be on eye level. you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

matt behind rubbing slow circles onto your back, “tell me what’s wrong baby. i can tell somethings wrong.”

“i just- what if i mess something up? you got invited to this place because of your and your brothers channel and what if i do something that’s embarrassing or-“

“hey, calm down. you’re panicking when you don’t need to. you wont mess anything up, i brought you here as my plus one because people in the comments are always begging for you to be on camera, and even if they weren’t, i still would’ve brought you because you’re my girlfriend and i love you, and trust me, you are not embarrassing. you. are. perfect. and it’ll stay that way, okay? so, how about you finish off with your makeup — which looks absolutely amazing right now — and i’ll meet you downstairs when you’re ready, okay?” matt pecks a soft kiss on your cheek and heads downstairs.

that soft little reassurance he gave you did make you feel more calm and relaxed. you hurried with your makeup and go downstairs to where matt and his brothers are.

matt’s eyes light up and he lifts you up into his arms and begins kissing your neck.

“matt!”

“sorry baby, you look so beautiful.”

you guys hop in the car and drive 30 minutes to this fancy place. the lights and people are really overwhelming, but you try to hide it for matt so he can have a better time.

you guys get seated at your table and you begin to look at the surroundings around you. are you underdressed? oh lord please tell me i’m not.

“love, what are you having?” matt says

“oh- uh- i’m not hungry..” it’s too overwhelming it’s too overwhelming it’s too overwhelming-

matt takes your hand and leads you to a private spot.

“are you okay? you haven’t eaten all day and you look really stressed. are you sure you’re okay with being here? you-“

why can’t i hear anything?

what’s happened?

oh no please tell me i haven’t-

“SOMEONE HELP!”

matt lays you down on the hard, wooden floor. groups of people come rushing over.

“she’s fainted. i-i don’t know what’s happened but she’s fainted. she hit her h-head when she fell.” matt’s voice keeps breaking.

you finally wake up.

“oh my- my love. are you okay? i-“

“i-i’m fine.. why is there so many people..?”

“don’t worry about that right now, we’re taking you home. come on.” matt says, picking you up just incase you faint and fall again.

~~~ AT HOME

you begin crying into matt’s chest.

“i-i’m sorry.. i didn’t mean to ruin your night i just-“

“shhh.. it’s all right. just go to sleep, we can talk about this in the morning.”

you rest your head on matt’s chest, and after 20 minutes, you finally go to sleep.

~~~

rushed this, i’m sorry 😭 i will write a part 2 if anybody asks though?

[brick-a-doodle-do]

Please just give me anything from your tiny workers au!! Literally anything and I will absolutely cherish it :D

*ahem*

would you like the first chapter? would you cherish that?

(also fuck scheduling, have it now. >:D its not proofread tho fyi)

tiny workers (i)

words: 4069

cw: vague description of depression, swearing

—–—

Knocking wakes him up. Loud and repetitive knocking. 

Wilbur blinks, trying to adjust to the golden sun that filters through his blinds, even as closed as they are. 

The knocking still hasn’t stopped. His nerves flare up at the continuous noise and he sits up, blinking a few more times to adjust to being awake before he finds his way out of bed. The hardwood under his floor has never felt more neutral, which makes him unusually aware of the surrounding air that feels so invisible that it’s suffocating.

Knocking.

He tries to ignore it and leaves his room, traces the length of the hallway and continues the beeline to the door, where he can faintly hear  a muffled conversation from behind.

Wilbur stops, standing at the front door. Through the agitating knocking sound, he holds his head in his hands for a moment before swiping his hands through his bed-ruined hair.

“Wil, mate!” Phil says, loud and clear through the door. Wilbur groans.

Quietly, he listens as Phil murmurs something to Techno, who in return whispers an ingenuine apology.

Right there, he considers walking away. They can’t knock forever.

But, his conscience figures he owes it to his family to at least make an effort. And so, taking the cool doorknob in his hand, he opens the door and puts on a fake, strained smile. “Yes?” 

“Good mornin’,” Techno butts in before Phil can. Wilbur raises his eyebrows at him tiredly.

“D’ya mind if we come in, Wil? We have something for you,” Phil explains, and Wilbur tries to find the courage to decline. And despite how much he told himself to promptly shut the door on his father and brother’s face, he found himself instead nodding along. 

“Yeah, go for it,” Wilbur agrees and steps aside.

Phil leads, brushing past him, where Techno lingers in the doorway for a moment. “I’ll admit, he’s stretchin’ this a little bit,” Techno warns, and before Wilbur can question what he meant, his vision is obscured as Techno walks past him. 

He shuts the door and settles in on an armchair, which sits across from the couch Phil and Techno have found a seat on.

“Are you here for what I think you’re here for?” Wilbur asks, an explanation hung between them.

“It depends on what you’re thinking, Wil,” Phil hums, laughing to try and break the tension. It doesn’t work, and in the end it’s only him finding amusement. His father sighs. “We don’t care about you not replying to us, or making an effort to be social, we just care about you actually getting outside,” Phil starts, glancing at Techno, whose  expression is nothing but curious at Phil’s particular wording, “so, see, we found something.” 

He can’t say he enjoys the sound of that, and especially not as Phil pulls his phone out and taps at his screen, only to hand it to Wilbur. A long article catches his vision as he’s handed the phone. “Here ya’ go,” his fathers says, trying his best to  smile.

Wilbur stares, face wooden as his finger slowly scrolls down his father’s phone.

Impending outlines of familiar figures and silenced commotion of bated breath keeps his flat quiet.

His eyes are hung heavy as he scrolls, skimming impatiently through the articles’ pre-advertisements. Something unintelligible of promised family fun and worthy relaxation flies past his eyes until he finally reaches it, an overdue title with a cheesy caption.

COLONY PARKS

“Tiny adventures await! Explore small worlds of wonder with tiny people, big fun!”

Wilbur squints at the screen, his doomful eyes blending in with his uncertain frown. “An amusement park? Are you fucking— fucking come again?” he scoffs. He had to ask; lingering in the back of his mind is hope that he isn’t sent to this hellhole.

His father lets out a sad sigh. “It’s for a few hours, Wil, that’s nothing compared to the things we could do.”

Handing the phone back, he shakes his head. “I think anything could be better than this. I thought your goal was to get me out of the house to have a good time. This is just—fucking childish!”

“I think one could pretty easily argue that you’re being childish right now,” Techno remarks. Phil elbows him, but Wilbur see’s the way he struggles to keep a smile down. “Heh? You know I’m right, but excuse me for putting a mark on your ‘good-parent’ facade.”

Phil stares at Techno, struggling down a smile. Wilbur shrinks into himself.

Eventually, Phil sighs. “He’s right,” Phil starts, and he watches as Techno smiles, “Wil, you gotta give it a try. One shot. If you don’t like it you know we won’t force you into it and we’ll find something better for you,” he finishes, and Wilbur solemnly nods. He knows better than to pick a fight with his father or Techno.

“Fine,” he murmurs. 

–

When a day had passed after the conversation, Wilbur couldn’t say the passing time with the absence of people had let him think, because he honestly had to answer and say he had continued with his musty routine. The only thing different was he was wallowing with slight agitation with his father. 

The sudden announcement had been a spring that he wasn’t exactly ready to release. He’d much prefer to ease into a “recovery”, but he can’t get everything he wants.

And now, with his phone vibrating loudly under his hand, he found his sore eyes opening, unadjusted to the sunlight that strung into his room, the sun high in the sky. He’d nearly drifted off again when his phone disturbed him. 

He pulled himself up, propping his upper body up with his arm and unlocking his phone. Rushing notifications from Techno continuously layered until he had the decency to open them. 

A long string of “urgent” messages. 

From what he could gather with his five-hours-of-sleep brain, Techno was parked outside. 

Begrudgingly, he tapped at Techno’s contact until the phone was ringing. Techno picked up immediately.

“You wakin’ up at twelve now?” Techno asks. 

Wilbur sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, what little energy he has murmuring out a quiet response. “Techno what are you doing downstairs?”

“I recall Phil ‘n you coming to an agreement with the theme park.”

Wilbur groans. “Now? Today? He never told me that,” Wilbur complains. Groggily, he pulls himself up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. The air is uncomfortably warm, but somehow the feeling of the heavy blanket over him still felt lovely.

“I’m only waitin’ ten more minutes before I go up ‘n get you myself, just so you know, Will-I-am,” Techno says.

“I’ll be down.”

And he was, with a fresh set of clothes and tamed hair, more than anything he’d been able to put together the past few days. He tried not to pay attention to how gross he felt, considering the greasy streaks of hair he felt just by trying to make it look presentable. 

And his laundry was growing scarce, it was only a matter of time before he’d start rewearing things from his pile of filth in the corner.

Never mind that, though, he had one free day of being outdoors where everything was covered for him. But the thought of it still made him feel unnerved. Alone in an unfamiliar place that was probably packed with people. He’d heard of the place, probably one too many times over the years.

It was unconventional for Phil to think he would come out of his shell there of all places.

But, he did, and Techno was there, already walking around his car to seemingly come and find him. “That took you so long,” Techno murmured, turning back around at the sight of Wilbur. The brunet hummed in response, trying to sound amused. He got in the car, feeling out of place in such a tidy and unusually vibrant place. But he’d been in Techno’s car year after year, so he couldn’t say it didn’t feel familiar. 

Techno drove off quickly without a word, and Wilbur buckled his seatbelt in and slumped against the window. “How far is it?” he asks on a whim.

“Nothin’ convenient,” Techno mutters, glancing at the GPS on his phone. “But it can’t be longer than two hours,” he quickly reassures.

Wilbur groans. “He wants me to be happy but can’t pick a convenient place for me to be happy at.”

“At least he’s trying,” Techno quickly butts in. “Not a lot of parents do that, bad parents ‘n all. That’s why there’s a lot of orphans.”

“I don’t think that’s what orphan means, Techno,” Wilbur muses.

“Don’t avoid the topic. And orphan can mean what I want it to mean ‘cause I’m the one killin’ them.”

“I’m not fuc—that’s still not how it works!” Wilbur argues, smiling ever-so-slightly. 

It was like that the rest of the ride, brotherly banter between them while Techno still tried to drill into his head that Phil meant good. And Wilbur considered it, which was pointless because he knows Techno is right.

He watched as the time on the GPS went down slowly, until eventually it announced that they’d arrived. Which wasn’t entirely true, because even as Techno made a right-hand turn, down onto the path with a road sign announcing the park in big black letters: “COLONY PARKS”. A thick arrow pointed right, down the road that they were currently pulling onto.

 In the distance, Wilbur spotted an overhead bridge with a big overhanging sign that decorates the entire side of said bridge. A dull brown background, the name of the park in what he recognizes as oversized shoelaces, suitably on-brand. 

There’s strands of large, fake grass that obscures some of the words, and other giant versions of everyday things: buttons, bugs, probably other things had he been paying attention. It was interesting how all-out they went, but it didn’t excuse the fact that he wanted no part in this.

Fucking Phil and his need for him to be fine.

From that point forward, the scenery had changed drastically—there were towering blades of glass that gave the intended shrunken effect (where, if he was being honest, it made his mood lighten a bit). Certain sculptures of oversized shoes or again, bugs and old trinkets of the “nearby humans” lay in the “fields of grass”. He could certainly see the appeal, speaking for the children he knows passing by this very place with a much more exasperated and fulfilled face, while his dull and unamused; trying to hide how eager he was to look at the detail in everything.

“Honestly, I can see why you don’t wanna go here,” Techno chimes in after a moment, himself looking around at the scenery. 

“Don’t say that unless you’re turning us around,” Wilbur deadpans. When Techno huffs, he shrinks deeper into the seat and tightens his arms around his torso.

(*)

“Woah—fucking shit!” Tubbo chants from afar, where Tommy can just barely hear him over the gust of air as a golf ball flies past him, narrowly missing his body. He thought he had that.

The human above him chuckles, and Tommy holds back a rant with a sour “I’ll fucking sue you”. 

“Yeah, yeah,” the human murmurs, walking past him with ease to the next hole.

Tommy stays put, looking back at Tubbo, who’s sitting in the crevice of one of the fake rocks. “I’ve lost my pep, Tubbo,” he starts, and Tubbo’s already giving him a knowing look, but Tommy continues, “I’ll steal you a free thing—just please cover for me, my lungs are dying and I think if this person fuckin’ taunts me one more time I’ll probably get fired.”

Tubbo hums and shuffles up from his spot on the ledge. “I got you, bossman. Cut yourself off, or whatever. Go take a break,” he agrees. 

Tommy’s offer slipped through Tubbo’s finger and he hurried off before he could remember. He bids a ‘thank you’ and speeds across the fake grass of the course, following along the left-hand side of the previous hole then hoisting over the low bricks that line the sides. 

As he lands in the dirt, Tommy slows his pace and basks in his unofficial break.

He approaches the small hut for mini-golf booking, where Karl was leant against the counter with his phone in front of him. Lucky bastard, getting to use a phone with such ease.

Briefly, the worker noticed the tiny and Tommy nodded at him solemnly, and Karl offered a small smile and returned to the device.

Tommy ignores his jealousy (and his impulsive desire to steal it) and carries on, ducking under the tiny-worker entrance and slumping his shoulders as a gust of air-conditioned room hits him instantly.. 

Quiet feedback from his earpiece-turned-radio breaks the quiet silence, and Karl looks down at him. Tommy in return pauses, looking up at him. 

There’s only a beat of passing silence before Karl chimes in with, “Hey, Tommy.”

“Hi Karl,” Tommy greets, wavering his previous path to cut across the floor; closer to the human. “You giving me a boost up? All the newcomers that are gonna have their mind fuckin’ blown when they come in here,” Tommy grins, “You know I just gotta see that.”

“Why should I help you?” Karl asks, and Tommy scowls at the question. “Will you put in a good word for me?”

“Oi! Come on Karl, don’t be a dick,” he yells up, scoffing.

Karl stares down at him, hand cupping his chin.

Fuck this. “Fine, dickhead. Who to, fuckin’ Big Q again?”

“Actually–yeah.”

Tommy makes a gagging noise, shaking his head. “You fucking romantic,” Tommy jokes—though he can’t say there wasn’t sincerity to it; he never saw the appeal of romance. But, the longer Karl stares at him with an expression even Tommy can quite literally not say no to, he shrugs. “I’ll try again, then, but I won’t accept assholery against me when he rejects you. Again.”

Karl nods, satisfied, then crouches down with his hand extended. With practised ease, Tommy steps on and adjusts his footing. 

The human stands, and Tommy watches greedily as a view of the opening-hour crowds start fumbling in. Amusingly enough, Tommy also has a view of the human he was up against earlier. 

He steps off of Karl’s hand and rushes across the counter. Karl returns to his phone, and Tommy takes a seat near the edge closest to the crowd.

There are the usual: families of three or four with giddy smiles as they ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ at the decor as they try to ignore the inconvenient rush of people, and the couples that look too happy to be there. There’re grandparents with their kids, large groups of teenagers and large groups of adults, kids—everything. 

But, one person in particular stands out to Tommy. There’s no kid clung to his side or running off, not a partner at his shoulder. He doesn’t look particularly invested; his shoulders are shrunk in on himself and his lanky torso, and frankly Tommy can’t say anyone has stood out quite like that in such an unordinary way. 

Usually, the people who catch his attention are those with colourful clothes or boisterous voices and laughter. This guy is making himself small, and he looks quiet at best. It’s funny—someone so tall and dull couldn’t blend in with a familial crowd, but he attempted it anyway, and it was amusing to watch. Simple as that.

(*)

Kill him. Right here, right now, kill him. 

Phil’s interpretation of fun and relaxation is still puzzling to him, because as eager people run from every direction and pay no mind as they brush against his still form, it doesn’t feel relaxing. He can only imagine the park stretching out for miles, and he can’t say that trudging any deeper would make this jungle of people any more coherent.

So, he looks to his left and makes a beeline over to the least crowded place he can find.

He goes sideways against the crowd, keeping his eyes narrowed to try and keep his vision straight ahead. He stumbles as he catches himself before he trips over a stroller, and just manages to find his footing on the path leading up to the attraction. 

It’s a simplistic design, holding nothing special against the initial drive up, with towering flowers that cast a shadow over some areas, fake rocks that seem to fit in like pebbles against the flowers. 

Wilbur takes a habitual look around, noticing the layout of a golf course. 

Lucky find, he muses.

The path cuts short and opens to a wider area, where a wooden (yet somehow still posh-looking) stand is built. Behind the counter, a worker who couldn’t have been older than twenty five was scrolling idly through his phone. As Wilbur approaches awkwardly, he seems to catch the worker’s attention. He looks up, flashing a genuine smile as he sets his phone down.

“Hello,” Wilbur greets.

“Hey!” The worker greets back, and Wilbur tries to compose himself to talk. “Look, let me be honest with you, I’ve never been here before and I just—I think I need something to pass the time.”

Karl (if his nameplate had a say in it) nods along, looking fairly interested for any theme park worker. “Uh, do you want to try a few rounds on the course?” 

“Yeah, that might be a better start than sitting around,” Wilbur agrees. Out of the corner of his eye, something shifts, but he can’t pay attention to it for long before Karl’s talking to him again.

“Okay, and have you been introduced to the rent-a-tiny feature?”

“Uh—oh, they may have mentioned it. I can’t say I was listening,” Wilbur explains. Karl nods. 

“Oh. Well, newer members get it free,” Karl begins, ducking behind the counter, “but that is specifically for attractions. To take them around the park it would be extra,” Karl pops back up. “And there’s a new-member discount for that as well, usually for if it was paid online. But it’s totally optional!” Karl finishes, finally, and Wilbur takes it in.

“I—my dad set this up, I wouldn’t know what features he got. Again, I wasn’t exactly listening when they read it over.”

The conversation continued, back-and-forth for another five minutes until it was squared away that Phil had opted for the rent-a-tiny feature, which he hadn’t been thrilled to discover. But it was valuable money to Phil, and in one angle it was for a good cause. And so, again, his conscience won.

Karl had fitted him for the club and left him to choose a ball, while the worker set off to find a tiny. It was startling to know he was going to see one, purely because of his uncertainty that he would manage to handle such a small thing—person—whatever. It was unnerving.

And that’s why his heart ran nervously when Karl finally emerged, something wedged between his forefinger and thumb.

A borrower. A real fucking borrower. Wilbur tries to hide his suddenly piqued interest in the being, watching as calmly as possible as the two approached and the borrower was set down onto the counter. He looked irritated, but still put on a fake, flashy smile for customer-him. 

“Hello, you’ve interrupted my break time but I can take a break for you, I saw you over there,” the borrower points to the crowd to Wilbur’s left of them, “and you looked all sad as shit,” the borrower finishes. His voice was so loud, so clear, no stutter in sight and swearing proudly. It was hard not to seem impressed.

“Good luck with him, and have a good game!” 

Wilbur tucks the club under his arm and pockets the golf ball, then stares at the borrower. 

“Uh—” Wilbur’s voice ran dry. Karl had disappeared out of sight, and that left the two standing there. 

“Dy’a want me to walk then, dick?” 

“Ah—no, I can just pick you up?”

“You’re one of those people?” The borrower asks, raising an eyebrow at him in plain frustration. Wilbur feels guilty, but he does feel an underlying irritation of his own. “Look, set your hand down. I won’t bite you,” the borrower instructs. Wilbur obliges reluctantly, slowly approaching his hand to the counter. “And while I’m at it, since you’re a bitch and got me for a day, I’m Tommy. Big T.”

Wilbur rests his hand on the surface and responds “Wilbur”. 

Tommy nods and turns his attention to his transportation, which Wilbur has been focussed on excruciatingly long to keep steady. As tiny skin brushes onto his, Wilbur’s entire body freezes. In that moment, his strength is kept in keeping his hand still. It was also at this contact that Wilbur remembered how touch starved he had been as of lately, with days of laying in bed with nothing but a blanket and his clothes stuck to him. 

And now, there was a borrower climbing into the palm of his hand, settling right in the crevice where his fingers couldn’t help but curl at the touch. 

Wilbur tries to shake away the feeling of contact against his hand and turns away, Tommy kept carefully in his palm. 

“It’s fucking stupid to be scared of something smaller than you, pussy,” Tommy says, looking up at him through Wilbur’s curled fingers. 

Wilbur furrows his brows and looks down in return, shaking his head. “I’m not scared of you, I never implied that,” he argues.

“Uhuh. You seem to be going the wrong way, I recall the first hole being back there,” Tommy says, grinning like he’s already known.

Wilbur turns on his heel and starts off in the right direction. “And you didn’t want to tell me?”

“Well, you don’t seem like the most talkative fella’,” Tommy points out. Wilbur furrows his brows.

He laughs half-heartedly. “That’s fair.”

(*)

So much for a break.

He watches as Tubbo grins at him from the last hole, while he’s sat in a palm at the very first one. Tommy wrinkles his face and flips the other off, who in return follows suit.

Then Tubbo is distracted by the other human, leaving Tommy alone again. 

Might as well be worth it to pry Wilbur out of his shell if their day was going to have any confirmation of a good ending. 

“Alright,” Tommy announces, shuffling up from his spot on Wilbur’s palm and pushing his fingers away. The human obliges, standing scarily still. “How—how uh, how do you want to play?”

“I have no fucking clue what that means,” Wilbur says.

Tommy frowns. “Okay, well, I can help you, or I can, well, not help you—which I’ll be fair, either way ends in me not helping you, unless you're really lucky. And I don’t think you’ll be lucky enough, even though you are a sad, sad guy."

“I’m not sad!”

Tommy stares at him. 

“Okay, whatever, you caught me,” Wilbur says sarcastically. “And do whatever you fucking want, I’m sure I could punt you no matter you’re advantage,” the human says, chortling. Tommy gasps. 

“Fucking try me. Bitch.”

Wilbur hums and crouches down carefully, an irritating slowness to his movements that makes Tommy’s world go by in slow-motion. He’s scrambling for purchase on the fake grass as soon as he knows he can, which happens to instantly trigger a reaction from Wilbur, who’s other hand moves to catch him. 

Tommy lands on more skin, the softness of the landing being both comforting and infuriating. 

“Oi! I can handle myself,” Tommy yells as Wilbur takes the initiative to let him down. “I value my safety, I wouldn't've jumped if I didn’t, dickhead.”

The gentle-ness continued for the remainder of the game. And despite Tommy’s request for a stronger hit, (which he did execute a couple times, until it dispersed into small and lazy hits), he never seemed to take it to heart. 

But, the game did eventually end.

There wasn’t any winner that got to celebrate, it was just a little bit of a lighter mood. Tommy, hesitant as he would be to ever admit it to the human, had taken a liking. It was rewarding to watch a more violent part of him come out the more Tommy kept pushing him.

The rest of the day was ahead of them, and Wilbur had already seemed more eager than he had been to interact with the tiny. 

—–—

EUEUEUEUEUUE IT'S REEEEEEEAAAAAL !!!!!!!!!

[mcltiples]

@countlessrealities sent; Had he been in his right mind, Rick would have been thankful to know the cabin this well by now. Between his blurred vision and his unstable steps, he would have gotten lost and hurt himself by now, if he hadn't. Not that it would have mattered. Nothing did in that moment. A soft grunt left his throat as he bumped into yet another piece of furniture...or had it been a wall?...but he didn't stop his tracks nor slow down his steps. Perhaps pain was what he needed to remain tethered to reality, even if he wasn't sure that he wanted to be. What was absolutely clear to him, though, was that he did deserve it. All the discomfort, the distress, the sorrow, the pain, the agony. There could be no good things for him, not when he has the blood of his most loved one on his hands. His stomach churned at the thought and the mercenary had to steady himself by grabbing the edge of...something wooden. He couldn't tell, everything was out of focus and the night was darker than ever. If he had prodded the piece of furniture around, he could have probably recognised it, but he couldn't be bothered to do that. Not that night and not when his final destination was finally in sight. The warm, orange glow of the fire, emanating from a doorway and sipping through the shadows of the night. Rick muttered something under his breath, but the words sounded incomprehensible even to his own ears, so he chose to give up understanding his own thoughts and advanced forward, towards the light. "G-Goddammit," was the first thing that left his lips as he stepped into the room, or better, as he tripped on his own feet when he tried to cross the doorway. Thankfully the bottle of liquor he was holding was almost empty, or some of its contents would have ended up on the floor for sure. He would have hated having to deal with being bitched at for that. With that in mind, he decided that the most sensible thing was to drain what was left of the alcohol, setting the bottle down on the first horizontal surface he found before planting himself right in front of his undead housemate. "Y-Y-You know what? F-Fuck it. Fuck it all. You...You win," he stated in a tone that should have sounded determined, but the effect was ruined by how much he was slurring. "H-Have at...it. Drink...get your feel. I-I don't give a shit." And he emphatically gestured at his neck, just in case his words hadn't been clear enough. [[ Mercenary Rick for Vampire Rick 😈 Hell yeah, angst 😎 ]]

The night was meant to be peaceful. For once, Rick didn't feel the emptiness of another day passing and another one soon approaching. Though, the sting of loneliness always was there. Something that would never leave him. Which was something more than he can say for anything else in his life.

With a sip of the fermented blood, drops of clots coating his tongue, he watched as the fire crackled. His thoughts went still for a moment. As he watched the embers dance and sway, the body of the last person he drank from melted and twisted. Becoming ash before his very eyes.

What a peaceful night it was.

Blue eyes turned violet underneath the diminished lighting of the living room. Slowly blinking at his drunken housemate. Who seemed to be going on some sort of tangent. He wasn't sure why, but he could tell something was wrong.

If it were any other moment, he wouldn't have done anything. He would have just watched to see what happened. However, that offer. It was enough to intrigue him. In the most enticing way.

From the couch, he rose up onto his feet. He stepped a little forward. Quickly glancing down at the offered up neck and then to that face that resembled his own in the literal sense.

He could easily have taken it now. It was there for him, but he couldn't. Not now. This wasn't a good time. For either of them. Besides, he wasn't a savage. He wouldn't take advantage of a situation.

No matter how much he wanted it.

"M-Maybe we should get you to bed," He placed fragile, cold hands onto those shoulders. "Y-You're drunk and I don't want you passing out on the floor, that'll be uncomfortable for you and a pain for me to have to carry you."

If anything, he would feel bad for just leaving the guy there. And he didn't want to be accused of not being a helpful housemate. Not by any means.

[loftylockjaw]

TIMING: October 9th, the night after this LOCATION: 12 Mudpuppy Pt. PARTIES: Wyatt (@loftylockjaw) & Owen (@apaininyourneck) SUMMARY: In offering Owen a place to stay after learning his apartment was overrun with goo (and that his ex now knows where he lives, which is definitely the lesser of the two reasons), Wyatt gains a very cranky temporary roommate. They manage to make the most of it, though. CONTENT WARNINGS: Wrspice (dialogue and implied skipped scenes)

—

This was absolute shit. After spending the rest of that shit night in his car without a wink of sleep, all alarm systems set and waiting for her to make the second appearance of the night, Owen had gone straight to work attempting to track the bitch down. It had gone poorly to say the least. The only upside was the unexpected improvement regarding his new sleeping arrangements - the current bad mood wouldn’t have done him any favors in finding a stranger’s bed to crash in. 

The few drinks he’d had - which he would vehemently deny were pity drinks for this fuckshow of a situation - before finally resigning himself to drive over to the shifter’s home had taken the edge off slightly. His phone ringing right as Owen opened the door, the sarcastic ‘honey, I’m home’ dying on his lips, seemed intent on ruining his mood once more. It could have been good news but a gut feeling told him it wasn’t, the number on the screen one he had dialed earlier today. A contact, for lack of a better word since he didn’t really do team ups with other slayers unless pressed to, instructed to keep an eye out for the blonde menace. 

“Yeah?” he answered curtly, already prepared to curse the man out for calling only to deliver the news that there was no news. Except the voice on the other end was no slayer. 

“Sending other people to do your dirty work? Here I thought you’d be excited to see me-”

The phone smashed upon impact with the wall, plastic and glass littering the floor in a way that would have been satisfying if not for the waves of anger rolling through him. Fists clenched, the one still healing from last night’s impact with a brick wall aching and the wound threatening to split open. It was close to making a hole in Wyatt’s nicely painted wall when Owen sensed more than noticed a new presence in the foyer, keeping him from destroying the drywall. For now. 

—

Expecting Owen’s arrival at any given moment, Wyatt had sequestered himself in the kitchen for the time being, cooking up some comfort food that he figured the slayer could maybe enjoy, if enjoying things was even part of his repertoire anymore. Well. He sure did enjoy trying to annoy Wyatt, but such a thing was not easily done on account of the lamia’s laid-back nature. Something that was promptly forgotten the moment he squared up for a fight, like flipping a switch. But this was no fight.

Or was it? He heard the door he’d left unlocked click open, a voice that was clearly not talking to him, and then the crash of something breaking. With a sigh, Wyatt set down his wooden spoon and moved out of the kitchen, rounding the corner into the short hallway that led to the foyer. And there stood Owen, looking tall and handsome and pissed off, and the lamia smirked, then mock-pouted.

“Will that be all the tantrums for tonight, sir?” he asked in an unconcerned tone, sounding like one of the servers from the restaurant he worked at checking in on his table. His gaze traveled from the slayer to the broken phone on the floor, and his mood for teasing did slightly dip. “Perhaps that’s for the best,” he offered, raising a brow at his friend. “... no luck findin’ her, I take it?”

—

A moment passed where Owen’s gaze moved from the shattered phone to the front door, no plan formed except a burning need to find and destroy. Then he risked a glance at Wyatt, completely unbothered and not a shred of pity to be found. Good. That would have been the last straw to tip him over the edge. Heaving out a breath that did little to release the tension in his shoulders, Owen finally unclenched his fists to run a frustrated hand through his hair, bruised bones complaining still. 

“No. To both questions.” With another angry huff, he crouched to unlace his boots before kicking them off, finally looking properly at his new host. Something smelled… really good, a stark reminder that food hadn’t been a priority today during the single minded mission. “Don’t suppose there’s drinks with whatever you’re mixing up in there?” Owen asked, shrugging off his jacket and cracking his aching fist, feeling the bones shift in a way they shouldn’t yet he was awfully familiar with. The fourth, maybe fifth time healing from this particular break - the aptly named boxer’s fracture google had helpfully provided one time. 

“Shower?” he asked curtly, fully aware that his frustrations were being taken out on someone who didn’t deserve it and fully not caring in this moment. 

—

Shrugging as if to say well, I tried, Wyatt watched Owen angrily untie his shoes, which was a little funny on its own. He gave an expectant little cock of his head when his gaze was finally met as Owen rose from the floor again, then scoffed at the question. “Of course there are, what kinda host d’you take me for, boy?” He led the way farther into the home, hearing Owen’s request for a shower and altering his trajectory to oblige, moving toward the master bedroom. 

He could take advantage of the slayer’s sour mood as an excuse to dote on him, fawn over him, and generally be saccharine sweet—a stark contrast to the man’s mood that might pull him out of it quicker. He could, but he wouldn’t, because he didn’t want to. Anyway, that’d never been their dynamic, why start now? Because Owen was single? Please. Owen not being single would never have stopped him before. And honestly, something told him that it might only serve to piss Owen off more, because he was a little bit of a freak like that. So was Wyatt. Takes a freak to know a freak, et cetera.  

Wyatt paused in the hall at a door to their right, pulling it open and grabbing a clean, soft towel, pivoting to push it against Owen’s chest. He gave his friend a quick, unsubtle once-over before continuing the walk to the bedroom and connected bathroom. “Don’t break anythin’,” he warned, leaning against the doorway as Owen moved into the spacious bathroom. Hovering there for a moment, the lamia sucked in a sharp breath and then smirked. “There’s clothes that should fit you in the wardrobe over yonder,” he thumbed over his shoulder into the bedroom, “if you’re so inclined. Shirts might show a li’l tummy, but I think I’d be okay with that…” His grin widened and he pushed off the door, waving a dismissive hand in Owen’s direction. “Come find me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

—

Wyatt still being unphased was making it hard not to lash out, the slayer’s body and mind aching for a fight, whether verbal or physical. Honestly, if this had been anyone but Wyatt, scathing remarks and anything that might incite a fight would have been flying by now. Instead, Owen seethed quietly, arguing with himself that the shifter would be too hard to rile up, anyway. The only reason he was biting his tongue, surely. Besides, a fight might not be the only way to release some tension tonight if Wyatt’s very subtle attitude was anything to go off. 

So maybe there was a somewhat sure fire way to lighten his mood. Not that he wanted the shifter and his ego to catch wind of that. 

“I’ll break whatever I want to break,” he replied casually, albeit a bit petulantly, dropping the towel on the sink and turning back to his smug companion. Cocking an eyebrow at the offered clothes - granted, Owen hadn’t exactly packed spares for the mission to escape the deathtrap of his apartment - his lips couldn’t help but twitch in response to the cheeky grin Wyatt was sporting. “You’d be okay with that, huh?” 

Just as Wyatt went to leave, Owen’s shirt was pulled off in a fluid motion before he promptly nudged the door shut with his foot. 

The shower had done a decent job of melting tension from his muscles but it did little to calm his mind, which had insisted on replaying the phone call and last night’s events on a loop. Once the shower had filled with the smell of soap that carried a sense of familiarity, it had been slightly easier to get distracted, though. 

Sure enough, the offered shirts didn’t quite fit, leaving the best option to be a dark, short sleeved button up that looked ridiculous with the buttons done so Owen left it open. The smell of food greeted him once more as he exited the bedroom, trailing the smell into the kitchen where he halted in the doorway, taking in the view. “You really do suit the role of a housewife,” he commented, raking back the wet strands of hair he’d in no way had the patience to deal with. 

—

After leaving Owen in the bathroom, Wyatt had donned his apron to protect his clothes from splashes as he lifted the lid off the large pot on the stove and stuck a wooden spoon down into it to stir it around, adding additional spices and ingredients here and there until the étouffée was to his liking. The rice was nearly done and the fiddlehead ferns were sautéeing in their spice mixture when the hunter showed up again, his voice lifting Wyatt’s attention from the skillet in front of him and drawing it back over his shoulder. He cracked a wide grin, pinching the apron between his fingers to wipe them clean as he turned to face his company. “I’m the whole package, darlin’,” he mused, fetching the tequila drinks he’d mixed for them both, sidling up to Owen to pass him his. His gaze dipped down to the borrowed clothing, noting the familiar smell of his own soap on the man’s skin, and he chuckled. “Wow, this is domestic as fuck,” he teased, lifting a brow before taking a sip from his glass. “Anyway, hope you’re hungry…” Gesturing to the barstools on the opposite side of the raised countertop, Wyatt set his own drink down again to start plating things. Flicking off the burner under the fiddleheads, the lamia dished up two helpings of them and the thick cajun stew served over rice, setting Owen’s in front of him first and passing him some cutlery before removing the apron and circling around the counter and settling onto the stool beside him. 

There were a few questions burning in his mind, but he figured he could at least let Owen settle down a bit and get some good food in him before picking at the proverbial scab.

—

Owen huffed out a laugh, accepting the drink eagerly and taking a sip. Admittedly, Wyatt was making a hell of an effort to prove his point, the drink surprisingly tasty and the food smelling promising, plus the slayer had no trouble admitting that the man had lucked out in the looks department. “And here I thought there was no way of house training you,” Owen shot back, managing a soft tug on one of the apron strings before Wyatt was turning back to his food. 

Other plans were temporarily put on hold once the food was plated, empty stomach the only reason he didn’t follow Wyatt over to the stove to trap him against the counter. Settling down with the food, noticing and immediately suppressing the feeling that uncomfortably resembled being self-conscious, Owen wordlessly dug into the food. “God, I fucking hate you,” he breathed after the first bite because the smug bastard was making it really hard not to compliment the cooking.  

—

Wyatt fully recognized the silent dance of emotions that Owen was performing, grinning from ear to ear at the scathing remark, knowing it was very high praise coming from the slayer. “Mmmhm, that’s what they all say.” 

Dinner done and third (or was it fourth?) round of drinks acquired, Wyatt finally broached the topic that had been eating at him since Owen had told him about Rosel’s return. “Hey, listen… I know you probably don’t wanna talk about this, but when have I ever cared about what you want?” Fluffing the inevitable faceplant with humor. “Seriously, though… just let me help you find her, you know? Help you take care of it. Don’t really get why you’re tryin’ to keep me outta this one, mon cher. Makin’ human-sized problems disappear is like my specialty.” 

—

Compartmentalizing was an invaluable skill, one that Owen considered himself pretty decent at, but just an hour ago he’d felt more ready to tear everything apart than pretend he wasn’t bothered by the current shitstorm raging through his life. Amazing what some booze, a good meal and, reluctantly admitted, good company could do. That can of worms was firmly closed, wrapped under a comfortable blanket of being a little bit drunk and watching Wyatt trot over with a new round of drinks. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised that Wyatt who, just like Owen would never just let things lie, wanted to bring a gigantic can opener over and spill everything back to the surface. 

Owen’s silence was sharp, annoyance nowhere near the levels it had reached to require a stop for a new phone in the morning, but still there. Of course it was suspicious - who wouldn’t want their horror of an ex to disappear without a trace, just like that? Aside from all the secrets she carried, Owen wasn’t exactly thrilled at the thought of sending Wyatt into a fight he probably wasn’t prepared for. He hadn’t given a shit about the slayer whose phone Rosel had used to call earlier this evening but that death was still on him. He let half of the drink in his hand vanish before placing it on the coffee table, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Because it’s not a fucking human problem.”

The words tasted like bile and Owen grabbed for the glass again, simply nursing it and glaring down at the ice clinking against the glass. “And I don’t need help, she’s my dumb as fuck mess to get rid off, alright?”

—

The long pause before answering didn’t bode well for Wyatt, though he was pleasantly surprised by the lack of outburst. Some part of him had expected some shouting or something of that nature, perhaps thanks in large part to the drinks they both had in them, but all he got was a sigh. An annoyed, but tempered, sigh. 

“Fine, then your not-human problem. What’s the difference?” he argued, brows furrowing. “Maybe you don’t need it, but I wanna give it, n’ I don’t understand why you ain’t lettin’ me. That’s what friends do, right? Help friends off their shitty exes?” He offered a lopsided smile, adjusting himself in his seat and letting one hand rest on top of the other’s thigh. “Unless there’s secrets you’re keepin’ from me…” There was truth in the prodding statement, but it was delivered as more of a joke—just some ribbing between pals. Ribbing that Wyatt knew would irritate him, perhaps into giving a real answer. Or perhaps not, and he’d just storm off to bed, unlikely as that was. Wasn’t like that outcome was something that a little schmoozing in the bedroom couldn’t fix.

—

He felt exposed, wanted to crawl out of his skin under the intensity of the blue eyed stare daring him to spill the truth. Just like that, as if Owen hadn’t spent the better part of his twenties locking that shit down, doing half-decent work pretending it hadn’t even happened. “What’s the difference?” He laughed dryly, finally tilting back his glass to drain the rest of it. A waste of a decently mixed drink to throw it back so carelessly but it was the least of his worries at the moment. 

Fuck, how he wanted to joke about it, to be able to return the cheeky smile and just casually make a serious joke about murdering an ex. He wasn’t above that shit, obviously, which made it all the more enraging that she was still alive. The hand on his thigh would have been welcome under literally any other circumstance but it wasn’t enough to keep Owen seated when the prodding continued. “Fuck, of course there’s fucking secrets, you shit,” he finally snapped, chair tipping over and falling to the floor with the vigor in which the slayer stood up. The now empty glass followed, bare feet stomping to the other side of the kitchen island to grab for the bottle of tequila. 

“What do you want, hmm?” Owen prodded back as liquid poured into the glass, words laced with venom. “You want me to share? Want us to have a friendly little chat so you can impart some of that hillbilly wisdom on me like you actually give a fuck or like I’m remotely interested in your opinion?” He was, which only fueled the anger further as he moved back to Wyatt, looming over him. 

“There’s not a single fucking thing you can do to help with this, yeah? Unless you can conjure up your voodoo magic and take me back to when I should have staked the bitch then you’re fucking useless, like a slayer with goddamn sentiment who lets a vampire-” Even through the haze of alcohol, Owen felt the burn in his hand, tequila seeping into the cuts that had formed when his hand clutched the glass a little too tight and shattered it. Angrily unaware of just how much he’d really spilled, aside from the tequila. 

Hissing through his teeth, Owen turned wordlessly to the sink, rinsing off blood and bits of glass. 

—

In comparison to Owen’s raging inferno, Wyatt was a lazy river. He sat quietly, brows raised, watching his friend throw yet another temper tantrum. Well… should have seen it coming. He’d warned the shifter that the one in the foyer wouldn’t be the only one that night. 

Hm. Now Wyatt never claimed to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but it was hard to miss what Owen was admitting—she was a vampire. She’d been a vampire probably that whole damn time, and Owen had dated her anyway. Sure, he could see how that could create... complicated feelings. Especially since things went to shit the way they had, and Owen was probably thinking how he should have killed her instead of fucked her, et cetera, et cetera… 

He looked calmly up at Owen as the man moved close again, confirming precisely what he’d been thinking. There was regret there, a lot of it, and it was backed by the man’s hatred of vampires. Or had that come after? Didn’t matter, really. She was still menacing his friend, and she still needed to go. 

The bottle shattered, Owen cursed then moved to the sink, and Wyatt took a steadying breath before rising from his chair. “Thought I asked you not to break anythin’,” he said gently as he moved up behind the slayer, hands sliding up his back to grip his shoulders and start to massage out the tension there. “And… I do give a fuck, so I’d appreciate you not puttin’ words in my mouth.” He knew not to bring up what Owen had let slip—he’d pushed hard enough tonight. “Regardless of what you think, I’ll be here to help. If you want it. No more questions.”

If Owen turned to look at him, he wouldn’t find pity in those blue eyes. Just a quiet understanding and resolve, one that didn’t need to be spoken about any further. 

—

This was a waste of time. A waste of energy and words and it was fucking pointless. Even though the blood draining down the sink was shifting just a little out of focus, Owen would probably be fine driving the car far enough away from Wyatt’s house to crash for the night. Only, the fucking bastard wasn’t taking the bait, wasn’t spitting insults back like the slayer so badly wanted him to. “And I told you I’d break whatever I wanted to,” Owen bit back but with Wyatt refusing to fan the flames, it just sounded tired. 

He turned off the sink and against his better, or worst, judgment, relaxed into the firm grip on his shoulders. Let his eyes close for a moment, didn’t think about why there was a fuck to give and how quickly that was bound to vanish into thin air. “I’ll be putting something else in your mouth if you don’t stop pushing your luck,” he muttered, even though Wyatt seemed to be done with the interrogation for tonight. 

After mulling over the words for a moment, the genuine offer that was conflicting in all the worst ways, Owen finally turned. His hands found Wyatt’s waist, one palm still bleeding but the shifter seemed well versed in the mild destruction that followed Owen around by now. 

“I can think of one thing that might help.” The last of the anger, the thinly veiled defeat, was gone from his voice and replaced with something simpler, more primal. He flipped their positions with ease, Wyatt now the one pressed against the counter, Owen’s face nestling against the side of the other’s, mouth against his ear. “Something I definitely want.” Hands moved from waist to wrists, grabbing just firmly enough to pin them on top of the counter as his breath trailed Wyatt’s throat, all pretense gone out the window. 

—

Laughing gently, Wyatt lifted his hands to let Owen turn freely. “That a promise?” he teased with a smirk, letting his gaze drift up toward the ceiling as the other leaned in close. The voice in his ear sent a thrill down his spine, but there was no time to give a quippy comeback before he was being manhandled, whipped around and pressed up against the cabinets, breath catching in his throat. 

It wasn’t a surprise, of course, but the buildup had been significant. He’d sort of figured this would be the only way to get Owen to calm down again, and it was a welcome compromise. If ever there was a time and a place… 

Letting out a soft groan, Wyatt let Owen do what he would for a few beats longer before speaking. “Oh, n’ I should let you have it? Or was your plan to just take it?” Owen knew him well enough, knew his tone well enough to recognize that he was just being a shithead for the sake of it, but was certainly willing. His body language was saying as much, anyway, back arching away from the counter to press against the slayer’s. 

—

Lips stalled where they had been enjoying the taste of Wyatt off his throat, remnants from the air of cooking still fresh on the skin. “Not at all,” he murmured, one hand relinquishing its grip to trail up to the other’s hair. Fingers dug their way in before pulling, somewhere between gentle and not at all, forcing blue eyes that betrayed the playful words to look up at him. “I was planning to make you beg for it.” 

Without letting up the grip, his mouth hovered along the well exposed jawline, the corner of Wyatt’s lips, a hair's breadth away from making contact but never quite. The shifter had had his fun teasing but Owen could very well play that game, too. With both his hands holding Wyatt in place, it was easy for him to shift his weight back, leaving a gap between the two of them save for where Owen had his grip. “You swallow your pride and I might swallow something in return,” he pressed, nails dragging across the other’s scalp, green eyes bearing down mischievously. 

—

It was interesting how quickly they went from a heated exchange and glass shattering to… this. Telling, even. Troubling, maybe. To someone other than them, anyway. This was, for or better or worse, how things tended to go with them. Always had. They both got a kick out of physical altercations, and even though Wyatt was almost always calm and collected, he enjoyed a good fistfight. And for one stupid reason or another, or maybe even no reason at all, the friends had sometimes come to blows. Words were one thing, but punching Owen in the gut was another. It was all in good fun, they both knew and wordlessly agreed upon that.

What came after was perhaps even more fun, even if there'd been a lot of red tape at the time. The current scenario was a familiar one, but the smug satisfaction that would've normally laced Wyatt's words was edged with something else, because now there was no red tape. He had lost his advantage, short of just telling Owen no, but the last thing he wanted was to push the other away from him, physically or metaphorically. What was left, as Owen had so eloquently put it, was swallowing his pride. 

Wyatt blinked up at his friend, deflating a bit with the realization that he no longer had the upper hand. "That ain't fair," he complained breathily, testing just how effortlessly Owen had him held in place and finding that he couldn't make the other so much as budge. Well, so it went. This was his life, now. Damnit. 

Heavy-lidded eyes met Owen's gaze again and the shifter let out a soft sigh. "Please," he began, "show me what I've been missin' out on. Waited long enough."

—

It definitely wasn’t fair but Wyatt had to know that argument would fall on deaf ears. Owen also knew that despite the obvious outward appearances, the shifter held much more power in this situation than he probably realized. Proven in part by the unwanted feeling of relief he felt when the other man finally caved. “Since you asked so nicely.”

True to the not-so-humble bragging, Wyatt’s sheets were indeed very soft. What remained of them on the bed, at least. Owen couldn’t help the thrill that went through him at the sight of red spots that were blooming all over the shifter’s skin, with the very charming addition of a clear handprint painted with blood because there had been no time to waste on bandaging up his hand earlier. The deep seated satisfaction was even enough to keep him from overthinking the fact that neither of them were leaving, this bed a shared sleeping space for the undecided future. 

“You do look pretty when you beg,” Owen sighed, one hand lazily moving to Wyatt’s hair, fingers dragging through it in a much softer way than before, soothing the no doubt irritated scalp. They continued their trailing from there, traveling across skin, across the possessive marks left in a slight frenzy, as if making up for all the times he’d wanted to do exactly this but had been unable. 

—

“I always look pretty, thanks very much,” Wyatt argued, propped up on the pillows beside him, leaning his head into the touch of Owen’s hand. In some ways, it’d all been exactly what he’d expected—harried and passionate, a little savage at times, and yet… there was something more than the lust shared between them, something that had manifested itself as a careful touch here, a soft kiss there, and now the fingers trailing over wounded skin like a silent apology. Not that one was needed, of course, but all the same… 

Untamed curls framed Wyatt’s face as he pushed himself over the top of Owen again, one arm planted beside his head, the other hand settling on the side of his neck as he brought their lips together again, kissing hungrily, as if his appetite had not been fully sated by now. When it came time to draw breath, the lamia pulled back and offered Owen a smirk, glancing down between their bodies for a moment before clicking his tongue. 

“Anyway… need to go wash you off of me,” he hummed, removing himself from the bed as he raked a hand through that unruly hair. “Back in a jiffy.” Wyatt glanced back at Owen, back to the hand he’d injured, specifically, and pulled a face. “Wash your damn hands while I’m in there, you filthy mongrel,” he teased with a quirk of his brow. “Don’t think you’re allowed to turn this place into a pigsty while you’re here.”

—

“Mm, debatable,” Owen hummed with no real meaning or punch behind the words, lazy smirk sliding onto his face when Wyatt slithered closer again. He didn’t mind this, didn’t mind how easy this felt, which would have been terrifying and anger inducing if there had been any energy left to really ponder the fact. “Guess you look handsome sometimes, too,” he cooed against the raw lips, bringing the hand that had been responsible for making even more of a mess of Wyatt’s hair to the mustache, twirling the end of it between his fingers before the shifter was pulling away. 

Hands folded behind his head as Owen settled on the bed to watch the other man trot off, visibly not planning on moving anytime soon. A fact clearly spotted by Wyatt, who was scrunching his face in distaste. “You love it,” he retorted back, now only moving to grab a pillow from the bed, tossing it at Wyatt as he pretended to have the power to set any rules here. “And fuck you, I’m a very neat mess of a man.” 

Still, reluctantly, he got up once the shower was running and washed the smeared blood from his hands. Tossed a clean towel over the shower screen and into the stream of water for good measure. It was probably just the contrast of sleeping in a bed instead of his car, or the undeniable quality of the sheets, but he slept like a fucking baby. Definitely no other plausible reason for that. 

[moonstonedrawsrandomly]

The Forgotten Bishop 2

Palace Au

“This way, Lamb”

Blanche was sent to Leshy’s palace without a second thought. Even with Blanche’s protests, it didn’t seem like he was going to get his way regardless, so he cradles the young Bishop and goes along with it. The little Bishop was suckling on his shirt, his little handsNot how he was going to spend his night, to be honest.

“Here is Leshy’s palace, your on your own from now “

“Wait, why are we on our own now? Where are the rest of his attendants? His servants?”

“Shamura was in the process of shuffling around after the young bishop got sick and didn’t recover until a month ago. Not sure now.”

He said. Then he left the palace.

“The young bishop is in your hands”

He said. Then it was just Blanche and Leshy who cooed in his hands in the pitch black of night.

“What have I gotten myself into?

He said, then he looked at the palace. It was nearly completed with a few insulated rooms, and the landing area being fully done. The roof wasn’t finished, and it was ruining the wooden floor beneath and the decorations. Even the fully made sections were a little drafty. And an infant lives here?!?

‘Thank god it’s summer, or the Bishop would be dead before spring…’

He thought about that. Then a chill ran through his spine. Is that their intention? Do the bishops not care about Leshy? ‘ No, that’s not it. Atleast not with the High Bishop. Blanche took a look at the conditions of the room. Just a little crib, some paintings on the walls and some toys, even the ones he bought. Where are the rest of his offerings?

Leshy yawned in his arms. Yeah, he was tired too. He hoped that the bishop ate something for the night, because it didn’t seem like there was much.

“Well, there is where he will sleep, now where will I?”

There was one spare room, so he took that. However, he has to move a few things, some documents.

“I think High Bishop fancied this bed when he was just brought. The blanket is luxurious and soft”

He said. As he pushed his things out and he, instead of putting the baby in the crib, just cuddled with the little lord. He appreciated it as well.

“Ooo”

“Settle down, young one. Let’s sleep now…time for nighty night.”

He said. He even sung to the little bishop to make him feel better. He cooed and finally went to sleep. Blanche felt a draft and covered the duo up.

“I gotta plug that hole…AND I gotta talk to my landlord too! What a mess!”

The next morning, at the palace door, is where he met some of the people who work and stay at the palace. Melody, a starfish concubine of Bishop Kallamar’s and Jabre, a W.Agares future imperial Consort and partner of Bishop Heket. They both had a basket full of things for them.

“It’s nice to meet you! It’s so good to have someone pick up the slack for the little guy! I’m Jabre! And this is Melody!”

“Nice to meet you dear, let us know if you need anything and we will help to the best of our ability!”

They both said. Those were his new friends for the time being. They brought things for him and even helped him do small repairs and try to get the palace somewhat finished. They weren’t constructive so anything to keep the palace cool in the summer and warm in the fall was the plan.

“-I’ll let the main council know your an employee here so your home should be untouched until you return, okay?”

“Thank you so much

“Uaaaahhhh…”

Leshy let out a cry a particularly cold night. They were out of wood. Blanche gets up and ties the baby to his chest. He has to get wood, but he cannot leave the prince under any conditions.

“Uuuh!”

He coos as the cold air whips his face. Blanche covers his face so he doesn’t get cold. He chops down wood to warm the palace for a good hour and a half while he looks up at the four adjacent palaces.

“Do they even care?”

He thought. Warm, cozy, sounds of laughter fill the air and the smells from their kitchens were absolutely scrumptious. It made his mouth water just thinking about what they are cooking.

“I’d kill for a nice steak and potatoes…”

He whispered. He looks down to see Leshy, fast asleep on his chest. The warmth of his body put him to sleep again, which is good, he didn’t want him to hear his lamenting. Then he thinks about his own palace. Not fully renovated or completed, only being supported by a few people. It’s been almost 3 months, and the weather was already getting cold.

“Does no one care about the little bishop?”

Blanche feels bad. Leshy has only just been brought into this world, and he has to face the coldness? By himself?

‘I mean, for god sake, he’s just a baby. You should be giving him a lot more love and care…but you are one person…’

and Blanche truly felt like he was his only friend that truly cared about him. He still doesn’t know what happened to his attending staff and none of his siblings, minus Heket, will tell him, and Heket’s response is still pretty vague. No matter, they both have to wait it out until High Bishop Shamura returns. They’ll know what to do.

In the cold, He promised Leshy, while the wind whipped around both of them as he dragged the wood inside the palace kitchen. He quickly lights their room heater and puts Leshy to bed next to him. No point heating up his room, he doesn’t stay there long. As the small Bishop sleeps next to him, he made a promise

“I promise you, Leshy, when the High Bishop returns from his Military Venture , I’m gonna tell them everything they did did to you. No bishop of mine gets treated that way.”

He said, as he watched the flames of the heater until he felt sleepy. Blanche even begin to wonder how long will take for his brother to return? He knows it’s gonna be six months, 3 or 4 months have elapsed and winter is coming.

Will they both be OK for the remainder of the six months? Will the palace be finished or will let his brothers take advantage of Leshy that maybe he won’t even get to see his first snow fall?

Only time will tell, fortunately, for both of them, time was on their side. Somewhere near the southern gate, Shamura was getting a message from one of his generals.

“High Bishop, the situation in the Southern Gate has improved. We have defeated the rebels and the heretics! There’s a possibility that we will be able to go home before Christmas. 2 months ahead of schedule!”

He said. High Bishop nodded as the men around him looked excited! No Christmas in the barracks, and they can go and be with their loved ones! This definitely raised morale for his men.

“Excellent, tell everyone. I want everyone to work diligently so that we all can go home this Christmas. I want to make sure I get to see Bishop Leshy’s first Christmas”

“Yes sir”

He went out to tell his decree as Shamura sits back. True, it’s only been about three months, but he is desperate to come home. He knows he left quite the mess for bishop Narinder to fix, but he knows his brother is not a heartless monster he will get the job done, including finishing the renovation palace.

“He’s not stupid….”

Those words hung in the air ominously. Sure, he isn’t stupid. But even though he trusts his brother, he felt a cold wash of fear over him. Did he truly make the right decision to leave them with Leshy? Especially without an attendant? Will he come home to his palace in chaos?

TBC

[fandom-puff]

Puppy

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x reader

Requested by: anon ‘getting a puppy with alfie 🥺🥺 cyril needs a friend’

He absolutely needs a friend anon 🥺🥺🥺

Warnings: none

Gif creds to owner

“Alf?” You asked, wandering into the office, Cyril padding behind you, his claws tapping against the wooden floor.

“Yes, my beautiful wife?” Alfie said, not looking up from his paperwork, his glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose as he read. “What’s wrong?”

“Well... Cyril and I were thinking...”

“Oh Lord have mercy,” Alfie said, looking over his shoulder. He pushed away from the desk, leaving a gap big enough so that you could sit on his broad thigh. Cyril rested his head on Alfie’s other leg, looking up at him with the best puppy-dog eyes a bullmastiff could muster. “What was you an’ Cyril thinking, sweetheart?” He said.

“Well... when you’re away at work, it does get rather quiet around here,”

Alfie set down his pen and turned to look you in the eye. “Yeah? I mean… we’re already trying for a baby, darlin’” he reminded you and you giggled as he nuzzled his face into your neck, the scruff of his beard tickling you. “You wanna try again, is that it, yeah?”

“Alf!” You squealed, squirming on his lap. “Maybe later tonight. But… well… we were thinking,”

“You were thinking- Cyril’s a dozy old thing, love,” he cut you off, scratching his beloved hound behind the ear.

“Fine. I was thinking… maybe it would be nice if… we got Cyril a friend…” You held your breath as your husband stroked his beard in thought.

“A friend for our Cyril, eh?” He murmured. “Another dog, you mean?”

You nodded, nibbling your lip. “Maybe not another bullmastiff. Something smaller, maybe,”

Alfie nodded slowly, looking between his adoring wife and the eagerly slobbering dog on his lap. “A terrier, maybe. Or a spaniel…” he said. “Yeah. Yeah alright. But not a bitch. I don’t think Cyril’s got it in ‘im anymore, love,”

***

A few weeks had passed since your canine conversation with Alfie, and little more had been said on the subject. You had been returning home after taking Cyril out for a bit of exercise. As you neared your house, he began yanking on his lead, almost dragging you along the pavement. “Cyril!” You called, jogging to keep up with the determined dog; usually he walked by your side, even as you approached home. As you unlocked the door, Cyril bounded into the house, tugging his lead out of your hand in his eagerness to get to Alfie. You shook your head fondly, turning to shut and lock the door behind you, shrugging off your coat and hanging it up.

“Been the butcher’s, Alf?” You called out as you walked into the kitchen. “Cyril nearly tore my arm off,”

“No, love… come here,” you smiled softly, wandering into his open arms. “Cyril must’ve smelt his new friend,” he murmured into your ear. You pulled away excitedly. “He nearly ruined the surprise,” he teased and you beamed up at him. “C’mon. He’s in the living room,”

You let Alfie take you by the hand to the living room, where a cardboard box sat. Approaching it slowly, you peaked over the rim, falling to your knees. Inside was a little dog with ears much too big for his body, droopy eyes and a beautiful chocolate coat. Alfie eased himself onto his knees as you stared at the dog, all curled up in a blanket. “Do you like him, darlin’” he murmured, kissing your temple. You turned to press a kiss against his lips.

“Oh, Alf, he’s beautiful,” you said, happy tears wetting your cheeks. “He’s so small,”

“One of the lads’ bitches got caught. He’s the runt, mind, he was gonna drown him. I told him ‘no, you listen here, mate, you make sure that little one gets the milk from ‘is mum, yeah, so’s I can ‘av ‘im for my missus,’” you laughed softly, throwing your arms around his neck, kissing all over his face. “And he doesn’t grow too big, either. Basset hound, he is. He’ll still run rings around our Cyril, even with those little legs,”

You smiled softly as the box rustled, your new pup waking. Alfie scooped him up, almost engulfing him in his huge hands, and handed him to you. You held the tiny dog to your chest, pressing a gentle kiss to his wrinkly forehead.

“Hello, little one,” you murmured as Cyril padded over, sniffing curiously. The hound gave a little squeak and you cooed. “Shh… it’s just Cyril. He’s a big old softy, I promise you. Be nice, Cyril. Say hello,” Cyril sniffed over the puppy in your lap, before giving him a single lick across the top of his head. “Aww, kisses. Good boy, Cyril,” you smiled. Soon you set the puppy onto the ground. On shaky legs, he wandered over to Cyril, who must’ve seemed like a veritable giant to the tiny basset hound, and curled up next to the dog. You smiled, leaning your head on Alfie’s shoulder as Cyril curled protectively around his new friend.

“If this is what you’re like with a pup, love,” Alfie murmured softly. “Imagine what you’ll be like with a baby. You’ll be giving calling Cyril its brother,”

You smiled up at your husband. “Well… I suppose we’ll find that out soon enough,”

Tags: @liliputbahn @lilymurphy03 @imareallygrumpyme @acciosiriusblack @shelundeadxxxx @peakyswritings @lazyotakujen @rogertaylorismycar

[bxcketbarnes]

bucky and hugging from behind + first kissesssss

thanks so much for sending this in! i really really like this one and i hope you do as well xox

You take deep breaths and shake your hands repeatedly. You stare out at the stage, waiting for your cue to step onto the wooden surface. You're about to take part in your first big role in a play and you're beyond nervous.

"Y/N," someone whispers from behind you, causing you to glance over your shoulder. Your breath hitches in your throat as Bucky maneuvers his way through the stage crew.

"Bucky? What are you doing here?" You ask him with wide eyes, your hand resting on his forearm.

You glance towards one of the crew members and he informs you that you've got two minutes. You nod your head and lead Bucky out of the auditorium. "I came to wish you good luck," he mentions with soft eyes.

"God, Buck- I- Why didn't you come to see me before the show started?" You stumble over your words as he grabs a hold of your hands.

"I just got out of Chemistry. I tried to leave class early but Mr. Dorson isn't a big fan of me," he chuckles and moves one of his hands to the back of his neck.

A chuckle leaves your lips and you hug him lightly. "Thank you for coming. Hopefully, I don't vomit everywhere," you sigh into his ear as Bucky wraps his arms around your waist.

"You're going to do amazing, doll," he reassures you and pulls away, not wanting to ruin your makeup or wrinkle your clothes. "If you want… I, uh, I would love to take you out to eat afterward."

Your cheeks flush and you find yourself agreeing to his offer. "Yeah, I would love to," you say with a grin.

"Great," Bucky smiles and squeezes your hand gently. "I should let you get back."

You lean on your toes and press a light kiss to his cheek. "I'll see you after," you whisper before walking through the door that leads backstage.

-

Bucky watches you bow to the audience, a large smile on his lips. He claps his hands and stands up from his seat. You did wonderfully. Absolutely amazing. He grabs the bouquet he got you from the seat beside him before making his way out of the auditorium.

He taps his foot against the floor as he waits for you to emerge from the double doors. Steve, his best friend, claps him on the back before greeting him.

"Did you ask her?" He asks Bucky while motioning toward the flowers.

"I asked her if she wanted to get something to eat and she agreed," Bucky informs the blonde, taking a quick glance at him.

The doors open up and you walk out with one of your friends. You say goodbye to her before your gaze meets Buckys. Your heart flutters in your chest at the rose bouquet in his hands.

He holds them out to you and your cheeks turn pink. "For me?" You ask while shoving your nose into the flowers, inhaling the sweet scent.

"You did wonderfully," he compliments you.

Steve excuses himself from the two of you after congratulating you on your performance. You thank him quietly and bring your gaze back to Bucky. "I didn't know you were gonna give me flowers," you giggle and bite your bottom lip.

He shrugs his shoulders and scratches the back of his neck. "Should we get going? I know a food truck that's on campus. I've heard that it's to die for," Bucky mentions and you nod your head in response.

You link your arm with his and the two of you make your way out of the building. The night summer air smacks you in the face, kind of glad it's not going to be a hot night.

During your walk, you gush to Bucky about the thoughts you had while performing. Giggles leave both of your lips as you continue your crazy inner monologue. You come to a stop in front of the food truck, waiting in line behind three other people that participated in the play.

Bucky runs a hand through his hair and moves to stand behind you. You're intently reading the menu, not noticing him moving out of sight until you feel his arms circle your waist.

You jump in your spot and rest your free hand against his. You glance back as Bucky rests his head on your shoulder. "Someone's feeling affectionate," you mumble with a smile and he hums in response.

"I'm just… happy. I'm glad you agreed to go out with me," he confesses to you.

A gasp leaves your lips and you decide to tease him. "This is a date?! Oh, I had no idea," you laugh.

Bucky rolls his eyes playfully and the two of you take a step forward. "Shut up," he laughs while shaking his head.

Your heart pounds against your chest as you turn in his embrace, bringing your hand to the back of his neck. "Why don't you make me," you throw in a subtle wink while playing with the hair on his neck.

He wets his lips before dipping his head down, capturing your lips with his. You smile into the kiss, your fingers gliding up the back of his head, tugging his face even closer to yours. Your nose is squished against his cheek as Bucky's hand drifts to your face.

Someone clearing their throat makes the two of you pull away. You press the back of your hand against your lips as you look over at the food truck, noticing that it's your turn.

"I'm so sorry. Buck, do you know what you want?" You ask with flushed cheeks, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Yeah, I do," he says while keeping his eyes on you, both of your hearts pounding in your chest.

-

Taglist: @thewxntersoldier @reddesert-healourblues @jessalyn-jpeg @metalbuckaroo @smallestsnarkestgirl @hallecarey1 @sweetdreamsbuck @starbuckie @world-of-aus @pitifulbaby @marvel-3407 @glxwingrxse @whoreforbucknasty @broadwaybabe18 @writing-for-marvel

[reidsnose]

love letters

overview: spencer has a wonderful idea after finding out that reader had never gone to her senior prom

genre: fluff fluff fluff

a/n: i mixed two ideas that have been sitting in my notes app for this lol but i think its sweet!! i wrote it a little rushed and definitely not bc im not getting a prom this year due to miss rona👀 LMAO but as always please lmk what yall think ab it :)

masterlist

-

the idea had fully occupied his thoughts the second after the words left your mouth.

it was "the buttcrack of dawn" as you had called it, though spirits were high on the late jet ride home. it was a rare but much needed positive end to the case, and everyone was happily chatting with each other. since the case was involving high schoolers, the subject fell on prom. everyone went around sharing their prom stories one by one, recalling awful dresses and questionable dates til the questions turned to spencer.

"what ab you, pretty boy, what was your prom like?" morgan asked, still smiling widely from recalling his own.

you watched spencer shift uncomfortably for a second.

"i uh..i never went to prom." he stammered, a tight lipped smile on his face.

"no! you just dont wanna tell us!" prentiss cried, throwing her hands in the air.

"i graduated high school when i was 12! why would i have gone to prom?" he reasoned.

"you had to have gone when you were older or something! everyone has!" jj countered.

"thats not true, i never went to prom either," you defended, subconsciously inching closer to spencer.

before anyone could even ask you to explain why, spencer got the idea. he mentally left the conversation after you gave your answer. he spent the whole rest of the ride home and the next couple of weeks brain storming and planning.

and casually after work one day, as he was walking you to your car, he asked you if you wanted to hang out with him that weekend; at his house.

you and Spencer had hung out before, but mostly at your house or at coffee shops; he didn't invite people over very often.

of course you agreed but you grew confused when he told you to dress fancy.

you raced home afterwards to raid your closet, looking for any fancy dresses you may have stuffed in there.

spencer spent the whole day preparing his apartment. he put up streamers and balloons. he made a playlist of all your favorite songs. and then he rushed to get his clothes from the cleaners.

and when you knocked at his door the breath that left your lungs struggled to come back after he opened the door.

he stood in a gorgeous suit, different than he had ever worn to work. he rubbed the back of his neck and gestured to the living room, revealing the adorable (albeit poorly made but its the thought that counts) decorations.

"um.. welcome to prom," he said, turning back to you, revealing a blushy smile.

he tried not to stare too much at you, but it was difficult. your eyes sparkled as you stepped inside and looked around. and the dress you were wearing fit you so gorgeously he truly couldnt take his eyes off of you.

"spencer, i..." you trailed off, enchanted by what he had done.

"sorry if it looks bad. or if you think its weird that i did this. i just thought cause neither of us went to prom maybe you wanted to have a little one with me? yeah now that i say it out loud maybe you hate it im sorr-" he rambled behind you.

you turned quickly to him as he got lost in his words, eyes glued to the floor. cutting him off by wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him as tight as you could. you could feel the tension leave his body as he melted into the embrace, returning it gladly. he doesn't like to be touched by anyone really, except for you.

"i love it. thank you," you whispered, giving him one last squeeze before letting go.

he has a spread of snacks lying out on the coffee table which he has mooved to the corner of the room to make space for a makeshift dancefloor.

he turns on the music and you two start talking and dancing and laughing. two fools with four left feet completely and obliviously in love. well, oblivious the the other anyway.

a slower song came on, an old one that you had wanted to slow dance to ever since you were a little girl. and somehow naturally you two came together, his hand dropped to your waist, the other delicately cradling your own. your other hand found its way up to his shoulder, feeling as though a magnet was pulling you two closer. and closer.

he looked absolutely stunning. the soft lights he had strung around the apartment sparkled like stars in his eyes; its was...dizzying, in the most incredible way.

unbeknownst to you, as you stared at the stars in his eyes he was looking at his whole world that he had been somehow lucky enough to hold in his arms.

he held his arm out, allowing you to spin and when he pulled you back both of your arms ended up wrapped around his neck, and his around your waist. you were less dancing now and more...hugging. with your head pressed to his chest, he hoped with all his might that you wouldn't be able to hear his hammering heart. you most definitely could, but it was calming to know he was as nervous as you were. you smiled, listening more to his heart than the music he had played for you.

you were both sure that you could burst from pure bliss. the song ended a little too quickly for either of your liking and reluctantly you let go of each other. and suddenly Spencer was hit with the realization that he forgot something.

"oh my gosh," his eyes widened as he looked around the room.

"what?" you asked, mirroring him and looking as well.

"i can't remember where i left your corsage! i was gonna give it to you at the door but i forgot!" he exclaimed, running around the room checking shelves.

you smiled to yourself. he got you a corsage!

"ill help you look" you decided.

"please do," he chuckled.

"i thought you had an eidetic memory, shouldn't you know where you left it?" you joked, shooting him a smug smile.

"y/n, my brain was all jumbled to day and it wasn't just from being around you," he realized what he had said and quickly turned back to the shelf he was looking at, "could you check in my room please?"

his heart was racing at his own stupidity; how could he just say that so nonchalantly? he had been planning to tell you that he liked you for the longest time he cant afford slipping up and having it be anything less than perfect.

you slipped into his room, your cheeks warm from the idea that you make his big brain all jumbled. he probably didn't mean it like that, you were just looking too much into it.

you sighed as you crouched to look under his bed for it. you found a small wooden box that you slid out from underneath. it had your name on it.

is it normal to keep a corsage in a wooden box? you wouldn't know, you never went to prom.

you shrugged your shoulders, "i found it spence!"

with out thinking you opened the box, except instead of a band of flowers you were greeted with letters, all addressed to you. there were annotations written in the margins with purple ink. you furrowed your eyebrows as you scanned the various letters.

dear y/n,

today you complimented my glasses and my heart skipped a beat. thats dumb spencer dont start like that

dear y/n,

im in love with you. too forward

dear y/n,

you make life worth living. shes gonna think youre a creep

you felt a rush of euphoria fill your chest. did he really feel these things for you? your thoughts swirled in the most wonderful way. a wide smile broke across your face, butterflies running rampage through your stomach as you reread his words. his words addressed to you.

"oh thank God i really thought i lost-oh. oh no." spencer started as he walked through the door of his room immediately walking back out. you followed, blinking your watery eyes at him. "i can explain.

"i think youve explained enough, theres like 20 letters in here!" you chuckled, flipping through them.

"i didnt know how to tell you and i dont want to ruin what we already have and i-"

"it wasnt too forward." you stated, grabbing one of the letters.

"what?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"in this one," you held up the letter, "you wrote dear y/n, im in love with you. and then you crossed it out and wrote that it was too forward but i dont think it was."

"youre not mad?"

"mad? spencer ive been trying to admit the fact that im in love with you since i realized it myself, why would i be mad?"

"youre..you feel the same way?" he looked back up at you, a hesitant smile pulling on the corners of his lips.

"more so," you beamed, stepping closer.

he wrapped his arms around you, "thats good or else the rest of this prom would have sucked."

you chuckled, pulling him impossibly closer to you as another perfect song played.

-

-

ultra mega super cool taglist

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @spenxerslut @violetspoetic @aperrywilliams @b-a-utiful @eevee0722 @srhxpci @reidemandweep @imdefinitelyfloating @random-human-person @gurkiloni @luvspence @calm-and-doctor @ssavanessa22 @singularityjc @sydnee-kom-spacekru @sydneekomspacekru

[fictionsmooches]

PORCO X READER X PIECK

Plot: after a small fight with Porco, Pieck helps (y/n) get Porco jealous, while also having fun with her.

Contains: sweating, degradation, Praia, name calling ‘slut’ whore’ ect.ect., oral sex, unprotected sex, thigh riding, lesbian sex, 18+ MDNI

Word count; 3k-ish

Classes had already been out for the day, and with a long weekend around the corner, you were more than ready to get this ‘Porco issue” sorted out. Your whole life felt like it was spent between Pieck and Porco. You three had formed a bond unlike any other. You shared secrets, hopes, and protected each other on and off the battlefield.

“Look (y/n), a small fire lit under his ass wouldn’t hurt him. Besides, he’s been awfully rude to me lately. I wouldn’t mind making him a little jealous myself.” Pieck said.

All week he had been acting funny towards you. A little too funny for your comfort. It all started when you and Pieck decided to hang out without Porco. He had been taking extra lesions from Zeke as of lately, so he wouldn’t come home until late. The dorms were too quiet to be alone. Your thoughts had rang too loud to be left alone with quiet ticks of clocks to keep you company.

Pieck had no roommate since Annie left for Paradis, so you decided to have a sleepover. The two of you spent the night swapping stories of the week and laughing over nothing. It was a well needed pleasant night. However, In the morning when you arrived home you could see the hurt all over Porco’s face. He was sitting up on his bed. He faced the door. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, you knew for a fact he didn’t sleep at all last night.

“Where were you? You know you worried me to death!” he yelled standing up. His loud tone took over the whole room. It was as if nothing else existed apart from you two in this room.

“Oh I'm sorry Pock.. I don’t mean to worry you. I just got lonely waiting here for you to come back so I had a sleepover with Pieck.” you spoke softly as if to sooth him. You really didn't mean to make him worry, that was the last thing you wanted.

“Well the least you could have done was left a note.” he said brushing passed you as he walked through the still open door. His voice was cold and numb. You hated seeing this side of Porco, the cold side of him.

You could deal with his anger outbursts, you could manage the yelling or the cursing when he was upset. You could at least talk him down from that, but you can't help him when he was like this. How could you help somebody who didn't feel nothing? This was the first time he ever acted like this towards you, and it felt horrible.

Sure he yelled at Reiner and even got too snappy with Pieck every now and again- but not you. He made a habit of bragging to everyone that you’d be his wife one day and how beautiful you were whenever you weren’t around. You knew Porco was smitten for you but he never acted on it.

You waited all year for Porco to make the first move but feared he never would. Maybe it was because he wanted to live up to Marcel’s legacy. Maybe he didn’t want to ruin the friendship between you and Pieck. But it looked as though he’d never act on those feelings now.

“Pieck.. what if he never talks to me again?” you spoke as you slipped down onto Pieck’s lap. Her skirt was damp with the tears you’d been crying all day.

“I highly doubt that. You just have to show him that if he doesn’t act fast, he’ll lose you.”

You nodded and sat up. You wiped your last tear away and raised your fist.

“Ok. What’s the plan?”

Pieck slipped her arm around your waist and pulled you closer. Your thighs now touched one another as she closed in the gap between you two. She cupped her free hand over your ear, she whispered softly.

“You want me to do what?! Pieck, we aren’t little girls anymore! We can’t just ‘practice’ like we did when we were little!” you jumped slightly. She pulled you back into her grasp.

“And why not! Am I not your type?” Pieck teased.

“It’s not that” you looked away. “It’s just.. I don’t know.. Embarrassing?”

Pieck couldn’t help but giggle at your shyness. It is true that you two used to practice kissing each other when you were children. You needed to be sure that when the time came, and you married your future spouse, you’d be ready. But you were not children anymore. You couldn’t just kiss her and act like it meant nothing. After all, you had some morals left.

Sure Porco and Pieck fought about who would be the one to marry you- but you never thought anything of it. Why would you? Wasn't it natural to hold hands with your best friends? Your mind ticked and ticked until finally you could form a coherent thought. Was Pieck in love with you? And was Porco as well? How long had they been? Either way, the idea of kissing Pieck didn’t seem so far-fetched anymore.

You could hear Porcos boots clomping in the distance, he had always been so brash with his walking. You often felt bad for the poor wood floors he had walked on.

Just as the door knob turned, Pieck cupped your face and pressed her lips against yours. As soon you were connected, you could feel yourself pooling under your skirt. Pieck had begun rubbing on your thigh, and that definitely didn't help the dampness from collecting. The warmth of her mouth took over your whole body. You couldn’t help but melt into the kiss, your mouth opened slightly as Pieck shoved her tongue into yours.

You knew Porco could walk in at any moment, and the excitement of him catching you made you want to kiss Pieck even more. It felt so dirty to be like this. To have Pieck’s hand up your skirt, and to have Porco possibly see. you wouldn't dream of pulling away. It felt too good to stop now.

The moment the door actually opened, Porco just stood there- eyes wide as he watched Pieck absolutely degrade the mouth he wanted for himself. He had dreamed about parting those lips countless times. He tried to imagine if your mouth felt as good as it did in his wet dreams. His now half hard cock twitched as he watched Pieck pull away from you, a string of saliva still connecting you two.

“Good evening Pock.” she spoke with a smile as if nothing just happened.

He avoided his gaze from the two of you. “Yeah.. whatever” he said, nearly throwing his books on his desk. He took a seat as he covered his face- hoping it would make his blush less noticeable.

Pieck kissed your forehead. “I’ll see you later my sweet (y/n), i’ll be late to class.” she said walking out of your dorm with a wink. You sat breathless at what had just happened. Pieck had unlocked something so sinister in you, and you feared that simple kissing wouldn't be enough for you anymore.

As time went on you wouldnt understand how Pieck could just go along with you like nothing happened. You walked to class together as usual, ate lunch like you usually would- but in the back of your mind the only thing you could think about was Pieck. You craved her touch on your body. You longed for her hands and for her mouth, but you wanted Porco’s gaze upon you just as much.

“Uhh Earth to (y/n)?” Pieck said waving her hand in front of you. You had spaced out at the table you had been studying at. Porco sat at your left and Pieck across from you.

“I’m sorry. I just got lost in thought!” You rubbed the back of your head In embarrassment.

The stuffy room you sat in, had once been dedicated to strategizing wars and battles but the campus had now converted them into study halls for students. You weren’t sure if the weather made the room feel humid or if you had imagined it to distract yourself from forming tension between you three.

Large windows covered the walls of the room, the sunlight coming in gave you a clear view of everything in the room. The tables were old and worn, chairs wobbled ever so slightly, and the books on the shelf were slowly collecting dust as years went by.

“Is it hot in here?” You ask aloud, fanning yourself with your hand.

“I’m sure it is, and these uniforms don’t help out any.” Pieck smiled was she pulled her book away from her face.

Porco slid his hand on your thigh from under the table, he snickered as he turned the page of his book with his other hand.

You gulped quietly.

“Yeah I’m getting tired of all these layers, I wish I could peel off a few, don’t you Pieck?”  Porco said as his hand gilded under your skirt, calloused hands rubbed small circles on your inner thighs. You were being too obvious, you had always been too obvious.

Pieck caught on quickly to the soft movements Porco made under the table and your breath heaving. Her eyes made their way to your warm cheeks with a smirk.

“I understand completely, Porco.” Pieck looked directly in your eyes “It’s almost like I could undress entirely right now.” she began fiddling with the top buttons of her shirt.

You could feel it happening again. The wetness starting to build between your legs was unbearable.

You were practically gasping for air as Porco’s hand slowly started making its way closer and closer to your clothed cunt. Your clit ached with the thought of his touch. All sense of shame was gone at this point. Pieck’s shirt was half way opened at this point. The bits of her lace bra were exposed more and more with every bottom she slowly undid.

You couldn’t tell if your arousal came more from Piecks undressing or from Porcos touch, but at this point it didn't matter, you only knew you needed more. You wished to be laid against Pieck’s chest as Porco bent you over the wooden table, just imagining it made you bucked your hips in desperation for more friction. Porco slowly placed the pad of his middle and ring finger against your clit.

He withdrew his hand entirely as you let out a soft moan.

“It’s almost time for dinner, we gotta get going if we want to beat the crowd.” Porco said, looking at the clock on the wall.

“Right! Best if we leave now.” Pieck said with a devilish smile as she began buttoning up her shirt.

The two left you there panting for air, and longing for hands all over your body. The light of golden hour stained the room with warm hues. Your mind raced with what had just happened, and why you were left hot and bothered. Your legs spread open on the chair you had been sitting it, a small puddle laid under you.

The next day You woke to an empty dorm. Porco had been long gone at training. You knew you would have most of the day to yourself but today your mind raced with thought of Pieck and Porco. At times you shifted your weight to distract yourself from the overwhelming thoughts you craved.

It wasn’t long before a knock at the door sent a shiver up your spine that jolted you to sit up.

“(Y/N)?” Pieck called as she let herself in. “I assume Porcos is training?”

You nodded.

“Ooh so you’re all alone?” Pieck’s tone sounded sultry like she was alluding to something. You felt the heat rising in your face.

She made her way over to your bed. Her foot steps echoed in the room with every step she took. She took a seat on your bed. And leaned over to your ear.

“Have you been thinking of me?”

You avoided looking at her. “Maybe” you answered

“Or have you been thinking of Porco?” She asks nibbling at your ear lobe. Your breath couldn’t help but deepen.

“Maybe” you answer again

Pieck pulled away and repositioned herself. She was now sitting with her back fully against the wall, her legs laid out over the length of the bed.

“Come here (y/n). I want you to show me the way you want to grind on Porcos lap” she lifted her skirt to expose her thighs. She looked so soft from where you sat.

You don’t think twice about straddling her thigh. Your clothed cunt made contact with her soft skin sending a shiver down your spine. Piecks hand found their place on your ass with a squeeze.

“Such a desperate little whore you’ve become. You get one kiss from me and a half assed teasing from Porco, and you’re so eager to do as I say?” She squeezed your ass again only this time more rougher.

You could only moan in response.

Pieck had begun dragging you back and forth on her thigh, pleasure rippled through your body.

“Unbutton your shirt for me”

You hesitated. “What if Porco comes back early?” You whined

“Don’t act like you don’t want him to see you like this. Now unbutton your shirt”

She lifted her leg to make more friction between you and her thigh.

You did as you were told and undid every button to the best of your ability given the circumstances.

“No bra? You really are a whore (y/n)!”

You moaned at her words, your pussy was leaking all over her thigh as you rode her.

Pieck placed your nipple in her mouth and began to suck.

“Fuck-!” You say throwing your head back

She slapped your ass making you moan louder.

Her mouth felt amazing wrapped around the sensitive bud, sending shockwaves through your entire body.

She looked up at you through her eyelashes. She looked as though she was smiling as she sucked on your nipple, she knew what she was doing.

The knot in your stomach had started to tighten.

“Pieck! You’re going to make me cum!”

She pulled away. Without saying anything, she pulled your panties to the side, giving your cunt direct contact with her.

“Cum for me then” she said looking in your eyes.

Your hips moved at a rapid pace as you released on her thigh with a scream.

You were so busy with Pieck that you didn’t even notice Porcos boots clomping down the hallway. By the time you noticed he was already opening the door.

He stepped into the most unexpected but beautiful sight. You say still straddling Piecks thigh, gasping with your tits out. Your cum and sweat covered your body and Piecked thigh, your skirt hiked up over your ass and piecks hands holding on the back of your thighs.

Pieck peered her head to the side “hi Pock!”

You couldn’t help but feel so embarrassed and exposed.

Porcos cock twitched with excitement.

“So this is what you do while I’m off working my ass off?” He says while slicking his hair back more.

You were speechless. When you decided to speak all you could manage to say was “I’m sorry- I couldn’t help myself! I just-“

“Just what? Decided to act like a slut and think I wouldn’t find out?” Porco says.

Your clit jumped with excitement.

Pieck shifted her weight so you lay elbows to the bed with your ass in the air. Pieck guided her hands to your panties and slid them off of you. She spread your ass cheeks and pussy lips for Porcos full view.

“Look Porco, she’s just begging to be filled” Pieck smiled up at you.

You could hear Porco’s zipper being undone behind you.

“She sure is. But I want to hear that from her” he grinned, stroking his cock. The tip was wet with precum already. He stroked as your hole fluttered with excitement.

“Please Porco! Please, I need it!” You said.

“Tell me princess, what do you need?”

Pieck reached her hand underneath to rub your clit.

You gasp nearly being able to talk, “I need you to fuck me Porco! Please fuck me!” You choke out.

“Good girl” he said as he slowly pushed the tip of his hard cock inside. “Mmm.. so fucking wet already” he shoved the enteier length inside you.

You moaned against piecks mouth as she kissed you. Her tongue once again shoving its way into your mouth.

While Porco took his time fucking your tight hole, you slid lower to make contact with Pieck’s lower half. She giggled at the sight of you being so eager to please her. “Here, ill help you.” She said lowering her panties.

You wasted no time lapping up every once of Piecks oozing pussy. She collapsed into the this matress as you attacked her clit.

Piecks moaning caught the attention of Porco. “L-Like what you see Pock? Her mouth feels amazing on my pussy.” Pieck said, smirking.

“I always knew (y/n) would be the perfect little slut.” Porco said speeding up his thrust into your sloppy tight cunt. You moaned against Piecks clit, squeezing down on Porco’s cock in response to his degrading words.

Slowly you added two fingers into Piecks slit.  “Better do a good job (y/n), or I wont let you cum” Porco said slowing his pace. You wasted no time proving at her g-spot. Pieck moaned in delight.

“Good girl.” Pieck said in between moans.

You couldn’t go on much long like this. You needed release and you needed it bad. Porco could tell you where close by the way you began clamping down on his cock.

Pieck was the first to cum as she held a fist full of your hair “(y/n)! You’re gunna make me cum” she exclaimed. She lay breathless on the bed for a moment as Porco kept thrusting into you.

Pieck seized the opportunity to reach under and rub your clit. Pieck’s soft fingertips where enough to send you over the edge. “Porco! I’m coming!” You screamed.

“I’m close (y/n).. where do you want me to finish?” He choked

“Don’t be shy now (y/n) Answer him” Pieck said.

“Inside!” You yelled feeling over stimulated.

“Fuck!” Porco said as he raised inside of you, your pussy drank up every drop of his cum.

You three laid squished against one another, sweat and cum covering your bodies