#you see a lot of movement in the boarding gates

[shadowyarcadeblizzard]

[romirola]

Headcanons for the Shaw Pack’s Travelling Styles at the Airport 

David: David likes to be prepared, which leads him to overpack, just in case. Half the time, it pays off, though all the time it means his bags are way heavier than he wants them to be, not that he’d ever admit it. Although David considers himself a pretty patient guy, he dreads the idea of waiting in line for security, to board, to purchase a coffee/snack, to exit the plane… He has no direct airline experience, but honestly, he’s pretty sure he could streamline the whole process. 

Angel: They are an expert packer and they know it. Not only do they manage to arrange everything they need into the most condensed way possible, but they also know how to pack light. Angel is always one to be ready with their boarding pass, ticket, and anything else they’d need, though what they most look forward to is exploring their destination (whether it be for leisure or business) and getting a firsthand feel of the entire experience. They often indulge in arriving at the airport with plenty of time so they can people-watch with a latte.  

Asher: As a child, Asher often flew with his family to visit his grandparents, with one set in Belfast and the other in Galway. Because of that experience, he associates travel with adventure and fun, even if it’s due to work. Asher can make himself extremely comfortable in any airport, somehow intuiting the best place to find a seat, charge a phone, or search through a carryon for missing headphones. Asher can even nap in the most bustling of airports, but amazingly, he wakes up on time and never misses a flight. 

Babe: Babe is a nervous flier (check out this oneshot if you want to see that in action), but they are an absolute master at logistical planning. Booking deals, loyalty accounts, membership discounts… You name it, Babe has it and knows how to use it. Once, they even managed to get paid by the airline to fly to their cousin’s wedding. Babe also likes to select their seats ahead of time to maximize comfort and space.

Milo: Milo is probably one of the luckiest travelers ever to set foot in an airport. Although he never asks for any sort of special treatment, he never fails to get it. Every staff member feels compelled to give Milo all the bonus miles, first-class upgrades, or expedited services they could possibly give him. The restricted lounges welcome Milo even though he's not a member. During the flight, the flight attendants give him extra snacks, blankets, and anything he could ever want. No one, not even Milo, can explain the phenomenon. He loves every minute of it.

Sweetheart: Sweetheart’s poor sense of direction means that they require lots of extra time when it comes to travelling. They need to factor in inevitably getting lost to any movement they might make. That could include getting to the airport, finding their gate, or refilling their water bottle at the fountain a few steps away. They can and will manage to get lost, no matter how diligently they study the airport maps before they go. Despite their inability to orient themselves, Sweetheart will insist that the best way to spend any length of time at the airport is to keep active, since they will have to sit on the plane, so they will most likely be found walking laps, back and forth, across a space where they can always have their gate in sight. 

Darling: Darling honestly prefers to drive or, if possible, to take the train. Not because they are afraid of flying. Certainly they will fly if needed. But for Darling, there’s something inextricably exciting about watching the world go by like that. Darling also has quite an affinity for the cafe car, or, whenever they take a lengthier trip, the dining car. They can’t exactly say why, but it’s such a treat to partake, almost like a step back in time, and yet, a surreally modern amenity.  

Sam: Sam has always seen the airport as one big scam where every decision is meant to squeeze out more money from travelers. Pay to check a bag, pay to buy food, pay for leg room, pay to breathe air, basically. It’s a total racket, and he loathes every iota of the whole experience. If only vampires could learn how to rift like d(a)emons… He does, however, find himself more willing to shell out some money for a few gaudy-but-fun magnet souvenirs lately. After all, Sam’s never had a pack (and yes, Vincent and Lovely are included) for whom to purchase travel gifts. He still thinks everything is overpriced, but he looks forward to giving out the gifts upon his return. 

[inanisomnia]

chishiya shuntaro headcanons. [chishiya x fem!reader]

idk if i'm late to post anything related to chishiya but nevertheless i'm still going to post this bc i wanna write something abt him because i need more content abt him sgakhs this man is taking over my life /sobs

anyway, here are some hcs !! i've been ia here on tumblr so pls bear with me ^^ if u enjoyed reading this kindly reblog it (?) if that's okay with u, it means a lot ilysm <;33

reqs are open <;33

oh and also this is my first time writing an hc tot

++ this might be connected to the drabble i plan to write/post

genre : fluff ?? gurl idek anymore

warning/s: none ?? not proofread kind of ungrammatical??-3#! sorry for that tot

chishiya meeting you (?)

chishiya shuntaro believes himself to be an apathetic human being - void shell of a human being. he does things and that's about it - until one night, at the beach, he saw you.

under the faint gleam of the celestial stars and crescent moon, amidst the crowds of people dancing their remaining lives away, dizzying lights that lit the dancefloor, there you are.

wearing a black puff sleeve bikini top paired with high waisted midnight-colored laced shorts - your hair gracefully danced along your swift movements as you danced and laughed with your new found friends in the borderland.

you caught his attention.

this doesn't really happen to him, but something about you was so enticing he can't even seem to look at anything else - until kuina taps his shoulder to talk about something.

after that night, he can't seem to shake you out of his head and best believe me that he's the most in denial person you'll ever know.

he'll convince himself with the silliest reasons like he might have just been hungry, or dizzy from the games, or maybe, sleepy. anything but acknowledge that he admires you.

you see, he might be an intelligent individual, academically and street smart, but there are times that he can't think straight when it comes to you.

most nights he subconsciously looks for you on the ocean of the crowds arriving after the games. he's aware that you're cunning, and physically strong to protect yourself, but there's this gnawing feeling whenever he can't spot you among the hundreds of people at the gate.

he'll never make the first move. never. unless of course you talk to him first which you did, one time because how could you ever ignore this pretty man and introduced yourself.

he can feel his heart hammer into his chest as you walk towards him but he'll never show it.

you offered your hands for him to shake as you ask for his name (of course you already know it, since he is one of the known executives at the beach. but you still shoot your shot.)

he's not the type to shake your hand if you introduce yourself, but he acknowledges your presence in his own way.

conflicted with the feelings he's experiencing but he doesn't like to overthink things so he just goes along with it.

until he can't. until he wants all of you – until he wants to know everything about you, to protect you.

as your boyfriend:

i really feel like he's not really into pda. he would want to keep your relationship in secret. there may have been lots of people in the borderlands who despise him and he's actually afraid that they will use you to get back at him.

he doesn't want that. he doesn't want you to get hurt at all. after settling his feelings that he does love you, genuinely, he swore to himself that he'll protect you.

(i've read this here before and i'll put it here but y'all are so right dgahshs) his love language is quality time. and physical touch.

at midnights, he'll sneak into your room and literally just play board games or just talk about everything.

he doesn't let others touch his hair nor his face but if its you, hell, that's more than fine.

he loves your warm touch, your tenderness as you braid or play with his hair, rambling about things you love and hate.

he's a great listener. he'll stare at you with full adoration in his eyes and slight smile.

he's fucking grateful for your existence. you're his solace in this hell you're both caught up wjth.

gurl he loves cuddles especially after a tough game, he craves your skin, your smile, your laugh, everything.

the first time you both kissed was you doing it impulsively because you got so happy on what he gave you (its up to your imagination to what it is gsajgd) and you're both caught off guard.

there was an awkward silence and a plethora of apologies, but he just smiled and cupped your face and kissed you tenderly.

everything seemed to melt away. it felt as if the borderland turned into a hazy cloud 9.

when you can't sleep, he'll play with your hair, both bodies entangled under the sheets, a wholesome intimacy between souls trying to survive this hell.

he's the type to kiss your scars and lull you to sleep.

sgakuss basically chishiya being head over heels in love with every bits of you - your flaws, your moles, your dimples, every little detail about you, he's here for it.

he doesn't realize it yet, but you did change the way he perceives himself.

[keshetchai]

Thank you for your deconstruction of that post about Jewish ethnicity and your detailed explanation of why it was a terrible take! I saw that post earlier and it got my hackles up but I didn't even know where to start when they're starting from such a flawed understanding of Jewish identity and ethnicity in general.

Yeah idk the most generous conclusions I have were those last two points — the argument either starts from assuming ethnonationalists have always been the ones defining ethnicity/they are the main arbiters of defining it (which I just reject categorically), or they have misunderstood or don't actually know what ethnicity means (outside of understanding ethnonationalism is bad).

And I never want to come out the gate with like "I think you just don't know what that word means," because that feels extremely condescending and combative. At the same time we're clearly facing some kind of vast language gap if the concept of "Jews are an ethnic group" is considered absurd or laughable. So working backwards those are my guesses for how someone got themselves to that conclusion which bizarrely had a lot of reblogs and i didn't look at the notes but like.

Please tell me I wasn't the only one baffled by this?? Anti-/non-zionist Jewish movements have typically still explicitly emphasized ethnicity, like...sometimes even moreso because "shared cultural identity here-ness" HAS to care more about group belonging in culture rather than in place or nation.

Either way: We can just reject ethnonationalism without erasing the concept of people having ethnicities! That's totally an option. Israel and Palestine both have histories of nationalist movements AND both can and should reject ethnonationalism because the levant itself is a place full of a variety of ethnicities. No matter what the future of the levant and any states within it look, ethnonationalism should be rejected.

Like yeah I can fully climb on board the whole "the modern nation state itself is bad, borders are violence enacted upon people, nation-states foment nationalism, colonialism, and so on, let's move forwards towards stateless society." Ethnonationalism is bad.

But simultaneously I live in like...a reality where something has to float us all until we can get there and I don't believe in a leftist rapture of "bloody revolution will overthrow all of current society."

spoilers: ethnic self-determination and governance doesn't mean you can avoid ethnonationalism strains cropping up!

Also just because this has been getting to me recently, here's a big tangent not part of the OP but something else I've been seeing: Indigeneity to a place doesn't actually elevate you to this morally pure and uncorrupt self, and it doesn't mean you're going to be a better society than anyone else trying to govern there or avoid ethnonationalism or nationalism.

That's...I mean that's not how it fucking works. I keep seeing like "these Israelis are destroying olive trees, an indigenous people wouldn't do that!" And it's like...such a kindergarten way of treating the status of being "native" as morally and ethically untainted by bad ideologies. To me it absolutely reeks of "noble savage" fantasies wherein like: nobleness of character, innocent benevolence to foreigners, and perfect stewardship of land is somehow the hallmarks of "true" Indigeneity.

I regret to inform everyone but if you only ever get the highlights reel history of Spanish colonialism in Mexico: the Spaniards were able to conquer Mexico the way they did for a variety of reasons (smallpox devastating the native populace is one of them), but one of those big key ways is the fact that various native groups hated the aztec triumvirate (the Mexica) so much that they actively helped the Spanish overthrow them.

The Spanish didn't conquer the Aztecs by themselves. The Spanish had maybe an army of 3,100 or so. The Aztecs had a fighting force of 200,000+, not including other allied forces. The spanish were able to conquer the Aztec empire because a whole lot of other indigenous forces were assisting them.

Being indigenous to somewhere absolutely doesn't mean you won't burn or destroy farms, or murder your also indigenous neighbors, or commit terrible atrocities, or even become an imperial force who enslaves people or enforces a caste system or anything else. It's not a guarantee that your society won't be shitty somehow. The Aztecs were comprised of native people, and they still cracked open rib cages of other human beings to extract their hearts in ritual sacrifice so like. It's not a strong argument to say "they definitely aren't from here because they destroy tree groves or murder Innocents."

If you wanna talk about settlers being settlers there's other ways to do it.

[crashdevlin]

Don't Hide (A Witcher fic)

Author’s Note: This is part three of my Witcher series, which started at Opposites Don't Attract and continued to Left In the Cold 

Summary: Y/n finds herself in Poviss, living an almost-normal life in the North. A blizzard leaves her stuck.

Pairing: Geralt x Reader 

Word count: 2330

Story Warnings: a bit of angst, confrontation, some kissing

~~~

Poviss was cold. A Northern mountain territory with residents who weren’t used to outsiders. They were surprised when a witcher approached the gates of Tredam, but you just set your eyes on the snow beneath your boots and stepped past the guards. Your first instinct was to find the tavern, but you stopped at the town message board first. Maybe to find a job. Maybe to find a place to stay. There were several notices for missing cats and dogs, but the page that caught your attention said Shak for rint. 2 rooms plus outhous. Shit at keeping out cold but has a pit. Build a fire. Find me at Bicages Inn. Ask for Liam.

You pulled the parchment down and folded it, tucking it into your shirt. You adjusted your cloak and headed down the mud and stone covered main road through Tredam, eyes on the sign hanging from a building in the distance.

"Yer a witcher?" The man at the bar named Liam barely looked at you as he spoke and you could imagine him wanting nothing to do with you...until you realized that his accent was Skelligen and he wore no symbol of clan loyalty. An exile. An outsider, just like you.

"Yes. I'm just looking for a place to lay low for the winter."

"Ain' there a spot yer kine go ta fer the cold months? Off ta the East?"

Your lips went thin as you pressed them together for a moment. You cleared your throat and looked toward the barman, who nodded at you and grabbed a mug to fill it for you. "I'm not welcome at Kaer Morhen." You pulled your medallion out of your cloak and dangled it where he could see the cat head. "Cats are banned. Lucky me, I'm an outsider even from the other outsiders."

"Heard things 'bout Cat witchers."

"All true," you interrupted. "Foul, chaotic, rude, quite insane, the lot of us. Fortunately, I've denounced much of my teachings. Which is why I'm not in the Southlands with the Cat Caravan."

"Yew got a hundred florins?" he asked after several quiet moments. You nodded. "Yew can have the cabin 'til first thaw, then. Have yer drink an' then I'll take yew to it."

"Thank you," you said quietly before taking a seat on the stool beside him.

The cabin was deep in the woods outside Tredam and it was small, a bedroom and a kitchen and sitting area, but it was more than enough for you. Liam left you alone. You made witcher potions. You cooked in the firepit. You did small jobs around Poviss to earn coin for liquor and food. It was the closest to the simplicity of normal peasant life as you'd ever experience.

Once they got used to your presence in their town, several of the people of Tredam were fairly welcoming, offering smiles and greetings when they saw you. They knew your name. They knew your drink order at the tavern. They knew which herbs you needed before you walked into the apothecary. They knew what book you were reading that week and had suggestions for what you should buy next. They accepted you. No wonder Liam felt comfortable in Tredam.

The second storm of winter was much worse than the first, leaving you stranded in your cabin. Your horse, Daisy, was boarded in the stable behind the tavern and, though you missed your animal companion, you were grateful for that. She would have frozen in the blizzard. You, however, were at least alive in the cabin, fire blazing, bundled in cloaks and blankets.

You sensed movement outside the log walls of the cabin and your brow furrowed. The snow had been falling without stopping for hours. Who, in their right mind, would be out in that sort of weather? And why hadn't you heard them approach?

You stood and grabbed your steel, immediately thinking of Joel. It would be just your luck that Marchioness Woudsly sent another witcher your way. You couldn’t kill another of your brothers. You would die first. But if it wasn't a Cat…

You opened your door with your sword ready and gasped as your eyes fell on the white-haired Wolf you left behind months before. You froze, fingers gripping the handle of your sword as he looked down at you, snow whipping around him on strong wisps of wind.

"Are you going to kill me or invite me in?"

You blinked at him a few times before you sighed and lowered the sword, stepping out of the doorway and dropping your eyes to the wood floor. He stepped in and shut the door, shaking snow off of his hair and shoulders. You bit into the inside of your cheek as you sheathed your sword. What were you supposed to say to him? Did he come to Tredam to find you? Was he on a job? Were you the job? Would Geralt ever take a contract like that? Not against a human, but you weren't human and if he thought you murdered the Marquees…

"What are you doing here, Geralt?" you asked, pulling your cloak around you tighter.

"Did you expect me to stay in Kagen?"

"N-no," you stumbled, moving closer to the fire and avoiding the amber eyes staring at you through the dim light of your cabin. "But I didn’t expect you here, either."

"Obviously." You ignored the tone of his voice as you sat on a small wood stool and warmed your fingers near the fire. He watched you for a few moments before moving to lean against the wall. "You never came back."

"Obviously," you responded, shortly.

"Why?"

You tucked your hands under your cloak and stared at the flames. How the hell were you supposed to answer that? How were you supposed to tell the great White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken, the most famous witcher of the time, that you were too bloody sensitive to be baited into a heartbreak at his hands? How could you tell him that you'd never recover from the fall? How could you tell him you'd regretted riding away since the moment you mounted up?

"Why not?" was the answer that escaped you. Not much of an answer, but it didn’t get you killed so it must have worked well enough.

He let out a small sigh and shook his head. "I didn't take you as a coward."

Your eyes went wide, anger immediately racing through your blood. Rage heated your face. At least you weren't cold anymore. "Excuse me?"

"You got scared and you ran away," he accused. "You're a fucking coward."

You leaped to your feet, glaring up at him. "Nothing about you scares me, Wolf!"

He just glared back at you. "Could have fooled me, Feline."

"Oh, fuck off!" You scoffed and threw your hands up. "What the hell are you doing here, anyway? Can't you take a fucking hint? I don't want anything to do with-"

"Liar," he interrupted, stepping closer.

"Gods, you are an arrogant son of a bitch, aren't you? I left you in Kagen because I didn't-"

"Because you're a coward."

"I'm not a--what kind of witcher do you take me for?" He just tilted his head, looking down at you with that frustratingly handsome face. You let out an angry grunt and turned away. "You are infuriating! I came here to get away from you!"

"You admit you ran away to hide, then?" You didn't even have to look to know he was smirking.

"I'm not hiding!"

"Yes, you are."

"I am not!" You whipped back around, glaring at him again. "You need to leave. I don't want you here. I don't want you around. I don't want a wolf in my home-"

"You don't have a home, Cat." He pushed back away from the wall and stepped right in front of you. "This is just a cabin you rented to hide."

"Fuck off, Geralt." You grabbed the cold iron of the door handle and pulled it open. Snow piled up on the doorstep, halfway up the frame. In just the short time he'd been in your cabin, the storm had gotten worse. You couldn’t send him out in that. "Fuck."

"Guess you're stuck with me."

You slammed the door and looked from the fire to the bedroom door. It was the only place to get away from him, but were you willing to risk the cold?

You certainly tried. You wrapped your cloaks and blankets around you on the wool-stuffed mattress in the bedroom. You held out stubbornly, listening to Geralt breathing beside your fire, until the cold overwhelmed you. It was your fire, after all. Why should he get to enjoy it while you froze your tits off?

You refused to look at him as you dropped to the floor beside the fire, grateful for the warmth flowing into your limbs. You sat in silence for what seemed like hours, tension settled over you as the wind roared outside.

"I waited for you," he said, eventually. You kept your eyes on the fire. "I knew you weren't coming back after the second day, but I waited."

"Then you're a fool," you responded quietly.

"A fool to hope, I agree." You rolled your eyes. 'Hope'. He couldn't have really hoped you'd come back. "I waited a week. Until the bard came back to tell me you'd ridden North."

You shook your head. You told Dandelion not to involve himself in your business.

"Geralt…"

"Why?"

You closed your eyes and bit the inside of your bottom lip. Maintaining silence on the issue at hand probably wasn't feasible. Not with him stuck in your cabin. Your hiding spot...because, really, he was right wasn’t he? You were hiding from him…and here he was.

He waited for your answer, didn't press. Witchers were nothing if not patient.

"You don't want me, Geralt," you said, looking over the flames at him. "I'm just a stray Cat that you play with sometimes. I'm not…"

"Don't bring up Triss and Yen."

"How can I not?" You pulled your cloak around you tighter and hugged yourself. "You think I'm just going to ignore them? Or any of the others? You have a type, Wolf. Sorceresses for relationships, whores for fun. Which category do you suppose I find myself in?"

He hummed and focused his eyes on the fire. "Do you...know why I'm called Butcher of Blaviken?"

You didn't understand why he was asking. Everyone knew the story...and anyone with an intimate knowledge of witchers, especially of Geralt, knew that he'd had no choice. "Of course."

"I don't think you do."

"Well...then enlighten me," you urged, curious as to how that massacre had anything to do with the conversation you were having.

He was silent for a few moments before he let out a small groan and looked up to catch your eyes. "There was a woman...Renfri. Not a sorceress...not a whore...a princess." Your jaw dropped a little. "She was one of the princesses marked as harbingers of Lilit. She managed to escape when she was taken to be killed. She was...beautiful, resourceful…"

He looked back down to the fire. "When I met her, she was the leader of a group of bandits. A princess, who should have been a queen by all blood-rights, was stealing for her supper."

"The bandits that you…"

He nodded in answer to your question. "She was determined to get revenge on the mage that ruined her. She asked for my help. I asked her to…" He shook his head. "I asked her to walk away, let go of it. She couldn't. She went after him...any means necessary...go through all who stand in her way...me included. She wouldn’t stop."

You licked your lips and leaned forward. "She was consumed."

"She was the first woman I felt anything for. I didn't think I could feel before her." He looked over at you. "She made me feel...and I had to kill her."

Your throat clenched around the sudden rise of emotion, your brain replaying Joel attacking you. You looked away, tears welling up in your eyes. "I had a brother. I left him behind at Dyn Marv. He was offered a contract on me." You swallowed thickly. "He wouldn't stop either. He was so angry with me."

You took a shaky breath and sighed it out. "I feel, Geralt. And I know you feel things too, but it's different. It's different for me. I'm not a wolf. I can act like I'm just like you but I'm not."

"You don't make sense." He stood and looked down at you. "You know I feel for Yen. You know I feel for Triss. But when it comes to you, I'm a wolf so I'm heartless."

You opened your mouth to argue but he kept talking. "I do feel for you. I care about you and knowing you left me waiting for you in Kagen hurt. Knowing that you decided to hide from me hurt. So tell me, Cat, if I'm just a wolf with no emotions, why was I compelled to find you? Why did I have to see your face again? Why couldn't I stop?"

You stood slowly, on shaking legs. “It’s...just…” You licked your lips, trying to find words, but finding none.

He reached out and grabbed your shoulders, looking down into your eyes. “Don’t.” He leaned down and lightly pressed his lips to yours. He felt like fate. You reached up and wrapped your left hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss you harder. “Don’t hide,” he mumbled into your mouth as he pushed you back into the wall.

Heat enveloped you as his body pressed into yours. The cold of the blizzard was forgotten. The fear of the future was forgotten. For a moment, everything was okay and you didn’t need to hide.

[ontheshroom]

Economy ✈️

Jack Harlow x fem!reader

Enemies to lovers, part one

A/n: excited for this series no clue on how many parts it will be yet.

Synopsis: Y/n just wants to make it home and with her luck gets a chatterbox as a seat mate on her long plane ride.

******************************

Your hand stings as it comes in contact with the cold metal door, lightly pulling on it to open it.

“God it’s fucking cold.” You mutter under your breath, sliding into the heated car.

You hear the trunk slam shut as the Uber driver rounds the car.

“Is it too cold around here for you, pretty lady?” He asks causing you to roll your eyes.

“Something like that.” You reply, shortly.

The drive is insufferable as he begins babbling to you about how great the winter is and how unappreciated it is. ‘I really just want to make my flight.’ You think to yourself.

Taking all too long you’re finally in front of your terminal and collecting your bags from him with a quick “Thank you.”

Luckily getting your bag checked and security goes smoothly and before you know it you’re sitting at the gate waiting for your plane to board. A long-haired man is sitting across from you scrolling through his phone. His eyes wander to you and drop quickly, a blush spreading along his cheeks with a wide smile. Great. You shuffle in your seat and pick up the book you were reading. Just as you’re getting into the groove of it and nearly able to perfectly descend into the book you hear a lot of movement and giggles. Your eyes raise ahead of you to see a new, taller, man sitting next to the long-haired one. Both’s eyes are locked on you with a bright smile to which you respond with a tight-lipped one. One that you hope says ‘Hey! Not in the mood to talk!’ You look back down at the book, but fully distracted, the words no longer make enough sense to continue reading.

“Flight 117 is now boarding.” A voice says over the intercom.

You collect your carry-on bags and walk to the line, pulling your phone out and getting the barcode ready. The line slowly begins to move. You scan your barcode and walk into the plane, happily finding your window seat.

“I hope those guys aren’t going to be sitting next to me.” You think to yourself, looking out the window to see the men and women conducting the planes with glowlights.

Out of your peripheral vision, you see a figure placing bags in the overhead bin in front of you. You turn your head to see and lock eyes with the tall man from earlier. Just great.

“Hi.” He smiles.

“Hello.” You tell him.

“Not much of a talker?” He asks.

“I was always told growing up not to talk to strangers.” You tell him, turning to look out the window.

“My name’s Jack.” He says, extending his hand. You drop your eyes to it and bring them back to look at his face.

“Nice to meet you, Jack.” You respond to him.

“You seem a lot nicer in your interviews.” He smiles, his way of flirting failing miserably.

“I’m sorry. Do I know you?” You ask him.

“I told you, I’m Jack.” He says getting comfortable in his chair.

“You told me the most common name in existence and expect me to miraculously know you?” You ask him, arching your eyebrow.

“Everyone, please put on your seatbelts we will be getting ready for take off.” An announcement sounds through the plane.

“Hi, I’m sorry! I don’t mean to bother you, but my daughter absolutely adores you.” A woman says.

“You’re no bother.” He smiles, posing for a quick picture with the stewardess.

“Harlow, I’m Jack Harlow.” He says to you.

“Cool?” You say, scrunching your eyebrows.

The flight from London to Atlanta is roughly nine and a half hours and the last thing you need is a non-stop talker next to you.

“What’s got you so angry today? You’re usually much more energized and happy online.” He says.

“What’s got you riding in economy when you’re the new king of first class?” You snap back.

He smiles and tucks his tongue into his cheek.

“What are you reading?” He asks, nodding towards your book.

“It’s called Dare You To.” You tell him, curling your fingers around the book.

“Is it any good?” He asks.

“It’s my favorite, so I’d say so.” You shrug.

“Tell me about it.” He requests.

“It’s hard to explain. It’s an enemies to lovers sorta. A guy is dared to get a girl’s phone number and a lot happens from there.” You explain.

“What makes it your favorite?”

“No matter how shitty her life gets, he never gives up on her.” You mumble quietly.

“You said you didn’t know who I was earlier, but a few minutes ago you knew my song.” He says, changing the subject.

“It’s hard to pinpoint you in a hoodie, sweats, and sunglasses.” You point out.

“True.” He agrees.

“Why are you going to Atlanta?” He asks.

“My Europe interview tour is over.” You tell him.

A bright smile spreads across his face at your words.

“Mine just ended too, granted it was for my performances.”

“I didn’t know you live in Atlanta.” He adds.

“Why would you know that?” You scrunch your eyebrows.

“Good point.” He nods.

A text comes through your phone laminating in Jack’s vision.

“It’s bad to have your phone on you know?” He says.

“Yes, I know. I forgot to turn it off.” You tell him.

“Wait, you know Druski?” He asks, noticing the name from the text.

“Druski is one of my best friends.” You laugh.

“Why haven’t I ever seen you around then?” He asks.

“Cause my tour wasn’t a couple of weeks. It was a couple of years.” You sigh.

“Fuck kind of tour is that?” Jack laughs.

“The kind that makes you millions and gives you a top name in the journalism community.” You snap.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, I’m sorry.” He apologizes.

“It’s fine.”

“How busy are you going to be when you get back home?” He asks.

“Busy enough.”

“Too busy to go on a date with me?” Your eyes snap to his.

“Well, I uh..” You trail off.

“You seem stressed, let me just take you somewhere to get rid of it.” He pleads.

Your jaw drops at his boldness.

“That sounded sexual, I didn't mean it like that.” He quickly defends.

You sit and think for a minute. For a long time, it’s just been you and your pink friend that lives in your drawer, well suitcase now. Maybe a date wouldn't be bad. Sexual one or not.

“Okay. You can take me on a date.” You agree.

[birgittesilverbae]

for the prompt! "here, hold my hand" + shannon mary

"Remind me again why I allowed you to talk me into this," Mary grumbles as she waddles across the rubber tiling towards the outdoor rink.

"I believe there was mention of spiked hot chocolate when we got home. And a massage." Shannon's sitting on the boards, drumming her heels against the panels and watching Mary's approach. Mary looks something of a penguin, with her poorly made yellow scarf (Lilith swore Libby picked the yarn out herself, but Shannon has her doubts) wrapped about her neck over her dark puffer jacket. She's pleased to see that, despite Mary's complaints about the matter, she's put on her helmet for the task.

Mary slumps against the boards beside her, hanging half over them and wheezing gently. "You mean you didn't spike the thermos? For shame, Shan. Have I taught you nothing?"

"I've still gotta drive home, darling." She pats Mary's back affectionately and slips down off the boards.

Mary groans. "How the hell do you make that look so easy?"

"Almost twenty years of practice."

"Right." She pushes herself back upright and rocks into Shannon's shoulder. "Must've slipped my mind."

"Of course, of course." Shannon opens the gate and steps out onto the ice, taking two sharp quick strides towards the centre of the rink before cutting back hard towards Mary. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired already," Mary admits with a rueful grin. "Am I supposed to feel this exhausted?"

"Lots of little muscles getting put to new uses when you put on skates. Your legs and back are probably gonna hurt for a couple days after this. Hence the promise of a massage."

"I let my girl hit because she says shit like 'hence'," Mary jokes. The flush that burns up Shannon's face must be extremely unsettling, because Mary backs off from the topic immediately. "You ready to teach me a thing or two, hotshot?"

"At least three things, actually." Shannon reaches for Mary. "Here, hold my hand. It can be tricky to get on the ice and stay upright."

Mary's hands clench tight around hers as she takes a first tentative step out onto the ice. She lurches forwards, and Shannon catches her around the waist with one arm. 

"Careful, darling!"

"Fuckin' slippery," Mary grumbles against the side of her neck, pressing a kiss to her pulse point before attempting to draw back. 

"It is ice, after all." Shannon keeps her hand curled in the hem of Mary's jacket and glides backwards, tugging Mary along with her. "Okay, what you want to do is turn your foot on an angle, dig in, and push."

"Easiest thing in the world, huh?"

"You'll get there, Mary."

//

Half an hour finds Mary completing a shaky half-lap, Shannon hovering protectively nearby. Forty-five minutes finds Mary settled up on the bench, back in her snow boots, watching Shannon circle the rink with great long strides, like she's floating as much as skating, flyaways whipping about her face with the speed of her movement.

An hour finds Shannon clambering over the boards to land in front of Mary, her cheeks pink with windburn. 

"Shoulda worn a scarf," Mary laughs, tugging at her own.

Shannon makes a face. "You know Lilith knitted that as a prank, right?"

Mary shrugs. "I'm pretty sure she hates it more than I do, so every time I wear it I get to both be warm and irritate her."

"Fair enough." Shannon tangles her fingers in one end of the scarf and tugs Mary forwards. "Wanna warm me up?"

"Always." Mary cups Shannon's face between her gloved palms and presses up on her toes to close the distance between them. Shannon wraps a careful arm around Mary's waist to keep her steady. "Kinda hot, you being this much taller than me."

"I'll make sure to wear skates more often, then." 

Mary kisses her, soft and wanting, a balm against the chill of the day, and Shannon thinks that this is maybe the all-around best afternoon off her life.

[keybladeselkie]

Balder’s Gate/ Dnd 5e

Pack Mates don’t leave Another Behind.

Writers note: Please forgive if any of this is off character. Writing Astarion is tough either way the early game/before the romance option.

Trigger Warnings: Cursing

Astarion was stunned as he witnessed the crazy ranger woman, Tasara who he thought would be all protective and on board with the Druid’s Grove. That was until they met Kagha when the shifter puffed up her chest and screamed in elven, cussing her out and calling the elven woman a dumbass, stone cold bitch. Spooking the tiefling child Kagha had captured for ‘stealing the idol’ to which Tasara chewed her out.

“And yet you fucking decide you’re hot shit when this Halsin guy goes missing and try to run this pack like it’s yours!? Get over yourself! You clearly didn’t bother to go searching for him to decide you’re going to run things your way!” The shifter growled with her emerald eyes growing sharp. “I don’t give a shit if you think you’re trying to protect this grove if that means threatening a pup’s life.”

Kagha was in shock by this crazy half blooded woman coming in and challenging her decisions before snapping back into reality with a venomous look in her eyes. Telling the party to leave or else she will have to force them to.

Tasara growled once more before turning to look over her shoulders at her worried party members before huffing. “Gladly.” Her words oozing with venom as well before quickly turning to leave. They got their answers from Nettie as well as the toxin much to both Tasara and Astarion’s disagreement on taking it.

As the party begins to leave the gates, the young tiefling girl rushes over along with her parents with a big smile on her face. Showing their gratitude for standing up against the druids. Tasara, not used to compliments let alone thank you awkwardly just shrugs and mumbles a ‘Sure, whatever.’

Later at Camp.

The shifter grumbles and curses as she struggles to sleep even with her honey badger companion resting next to her. Her twin brother still on her mind as she lies on her back wondering about his whereabouts and safety. That soon ended as she hears some movement outside her tent as she swiftly jumps out to see.

A loud yelp of pain would be heard as the shifter woman falls back and holds her head in pain. “Bloody hells!” A familiar voice calls out from outside the tent. Astarion rubbing his forehead from the accidental headbutt.

“Fucking dammit. What do you want?” Tasara growled as her walls automatically rose back up. “If you’re hungry or something go drain a squirrel or that bitch Druid lady.”

A warm chuckle left the spawn’s lips as he shakes his head. “Oh please, a squirrel isn’t a filling and I think that woman has venom for blood. No, I was coming by to…applaud you for your foolish bravery today. Shrieking at that devil woman like a harpy.” He muses with another chuckle. “I was beginning to worry that you would agree with those fools when we were searching for a cure.”

Tasara rolls her eyes with another huff as she shifts her sitting position to get comfortable. “Well the kid only did a petty theft and that shouldn’t be a death sentence. Kids do stupid shit a lot for desperate reasons.” Her voice murmurs in a hushed tone. “Even making a fucking deal with a hag..”

“I mean… I suppose if the hag had a good bargain, I don’t see what the problem is.” Astarion scoffs while waving a dismissive hand. Rewarding him with a scowl from the shifter. “Even trading your own eye to protect your family?”

“Oh dear, did I hit a nerve there?” The spawn teases with a smug grin before getting shoved back. “Fuck you. You’d act differently if you had people care about you.”

Those words pierced through like a hornet’s stinger as Astarion stumbled back. Returning the scowl to Tasara. “Your loss.” He hisses the words between his teeth before walking away. Leaving the shifter alone with her thoughts and protective pet by her side.

[turanga4]

<no fanfic today real life is too argh. lil baby teacher turanga is one of 3000 educators on strike right now in an attempt to get a fair contract that also includes things like mental health support for kids. it's a new exciting time in the labor movement, called 'common good bargaining,' and...my district is shit at it and it's not going well>

Another morning on the picket line, outside my school. I learn a little more about the teachers I’m blessed to teach with, do some email advocacy for upcoming students. It is colder outside than any of us expected: my principal crosses the line to sell me a school hoodie.

A second grade teacher has a butterfly habitat in a little mesh frame, set outside the gate. Kids who have come to the line with their families take a look and she explains things, in English and Spanish. We discuss the upcoming School Board meeting…until the Board cancels the meeting. Then we discuss how we’re gonna show up anyway, gonna rally at the meeting site because it is simply unfathomable to have NOTHING there.

When morning picket’s over, we thank the neighbor for the blankets she leant us and I drive to the Peet’s parking lot, to get a coffee and charge my phone a little bit before my daily little shift at the Solidarity/Strike School.

And I’m scanning through my What’s App messages, sipping my vanilla latte, when a man sits down at the table next to me. Dispassionately, eyes on the floor, he begins reciting a story that he’s telling to himself, about how tonight, he'll commit suicide.

I look around me. There’s one man frozen at the counter, looking at the man who is speaking next to me. That man’s expression tells me, I’m hearing this right.

I’m sipping a latte and closing What’s App and messaging the strike school that I’ll be a bit late. My phone is up to 60% and I’m using it to text my friend from Berkeley Free Clinic and ask him what the fuck I should do next. Hello hello there is a suicidal person sitting next to me in Oakland who can I contact other than the police?

The man is detached and slow enough, I am well enough into crisis mode, that I’m able to have a whole-ass text and google search and email exchange under the table while I simultaneously hold down a conversation with him. It all tumbles out and I don’t remember all of it, but yes, he’s suicidal. “Inside my heart is a terrible place,” he tells me. “I have a demon inside of my soul.” He is lucid, and not. But the thing he says, again and again, is, “I don’t know who can help me, but I think I need help.” His eyes glaze a bit, he looks down at the floor again, and I go up to the man who is standing at the counter. He asks me, “are you calling 911?” I shake my head, because the friend that I’ve been texting with helped me LAST time when the cop thing wasn’t great.

The man stands, walks out of the cafe. I follow him; my friend’s got me directly connected now to a volunteer from Oakland’s MH First program. Behind the scenes, she activates a support thread: the man sees me, thanks me for listening, apologizes for bothering me. I tell him, “You said you think you need help. I am here because I think I may know people who can help you. I’m not going to leave until they come. They’re not cops.”

Message from dispatcher: ten minutes away.

The man sits and talks fragments about cops and people and hurting and helping, repeats the things about the demon, says again that he needs help. Says, “people haven’t helped me, before. You’re the first.” I think of the man who watched, frozen at the counter. I think of all the help my colleagues are fighting to get for all of our kids. I think, dammit, I don’t know if THESE people can help either, but at least they’re not a cop and at least I’ve done this much.

“You deserve to be helped. You deserve to be listened to. I’m here because I want you to have what you deserve. I’m one person. There are others. You don’t have to deal with the demons by yourself.”

Then I tell him, “I know what it’s like to need help. I’m not saying it’s the same, but I’ve needed help, myself.”

He fixes me with a stare more direct and intense than any of the looks that he’s given me so far. “You know, then, what the world is like?”

It takes me awhile to figure out how to answer that. “I think I know some of it. I know that the world is full of very hard things, but it has good things, too, and you deserve those things. I know that the world is a place that can get better.”

The fixed look again. “What if it doesn’t?”

And there—right there—is the thing that I’ve been fighting. All week, through this strike. All my life, in other ways.

Eye contact is a thing that I will never find easy, but I try.

“I can’t lie to you. I don’t know what happens then. All I know is, we’re not there yet.”

The van pulls up, and the man stays seated, passive, on the curb while I move back to talk to the unit. I introduce the man to my new friend, Keith, and step back to let them talk. As I move away, another member of the unit reaches out to shake my hand. Gestures to my union shirt, says, “I know why you are striking.”

I nod. I thank him. I tell him, “yeah. Pretty much for THIS.”

And then I cry in the hills above Dimond Park for ten minutes, before heading down to the picnic tables to help out at the strike school.

[lokigodofaces]

C1: Help! I've Been Buried Alive!

(Also, I have a bingo, you just can't see it because I don't feel like editing the bingo board)

Jemma Simmons in Season 4 Episode 16 when she was buried alive. I always felt like that this was kind of brushed over by the show. Seriously, she was buried alive and found out that she was murdered and put in a mass grave. That takes more than two seconds to come to terms with.

Ao3

It should be a nearly instantaneous transition. One second, Jemma and Daisy will be lying down on the Zephyr, electrodes attached to their heads, and the next they'll be heaven knows where in the Framework. The last thing Jemma perceives in the real world is the cold table against her fingers. 

The first thing she feels in the Framework is pressure against her entire body from all sides. It is pitch black, and Jemma can smell something rotting. Grains of dirt are in her mouth, grinding against her teeth. Most importantly, she can't breathe. 

All of this information floods her head in less than a second, and panic takes over as Jemma tries to get herself out of this. Knowing that dying in the Framework will kill her in real life doesn't help her in reigning in her panic enough to think. 

Being buried alive doesn't give her good odds.

She jerks her limbs around instinctively, to the best of her ability, that is. Surprisingly, she can move around. The dirt surrounding her shifts around with her every movement. Jemma nearly screams when she accidentally grabs what feels an awful lot like a cold, rotting human foot. She throws her arms away from that direction, making the ground shift violently around her. 

Despite the adrenaline overflow and the underflow of oxygen, Jemma is problem solving. If there's anything on how to survive being buried alive, she doesn't know it. Caught in an avalanche though, that she knows about. And unless the Framework's gravity is beyond messed up (which somehow doesn't seem like too much of a stretch in comparison with Jemma's S.H.I.E.L.D. career), the center of gravity is the opposite direction of the surface. 

Jemma forces herself to salivate before she opens her mouth and tilts her head until her saliva runs down her cheek. She starts flailing her limbs in what she now knows is up, feeling herself start to feel faint. 

Now that she knows what she's doing, she starts to make progress. As dirt falls down on her, Jemma wraps her fist around some roots. They're thin, and hopefully mean she's near the surface. She pulls on the roots, moving her body up as dirt falls off her and goes underneath her. She keeps doing this until, finally, her hand breaks through. 

She uses her hands to pry her hole into a larger one, ripping most of the plant out of the ground. Once her head breaks free, she gasps for breath and closes her eyes, blinded by the sun. She does nothing but shield her eyes and cough up dirt for what must be several minutes, still half buried. 

When she can finally breathe and her eyes adjust to the light, Jemma starts to push dirt off her legs. Looking down, she sees her sweater is covered in blood, the centers of the stains being two bullet holes. 

"I was murdered," Jemma whispers, trying to process what is happening. "I was killed and dumped in a mass grave." Looking around her surroundings, she sees a familiar building. "The Academy? But that would mean…oh no! No, no, no, no.” Jemma shakes as she realizes what must have happened to this virtual reality, all while still recovering from being buried alive. 

She stops digging herself out for a moment and covers her face with her hands, sobbing as her mind processes all that has happened. Adrenaline courses through her veins still, keeping Jemma alert and expecting danger. It isn’t until that drains from her system that she begins to calm down. She finishes digging herself out of her shared grave.

“What sort of mess is this world in?” she asks herself as she walks towards the gates, hoping she can get out of the field that way while avoiding harm.

[offersendriscoll22]

Article Writing Ideas Body Place To Obtain An Endless Flow Of Ideas

Starting a new blog or website is easy, but no easy task to increase visitors to website. There are literally thousands of new sites that turn up every day, plus you site is bound to get lost in whatever white noise. There is absolutely no magical way to obtain free endless traffic, so how a person get people liposuction costs your site? microsoft office 365 product key to help you increase your on-line traffic. You want to train your abs means there are said to be normally used. The true function of the abdominals is for stabilization. Plank/Bridge exercises are killer! Could get you a super strong core right. The movement is really no movement at every single. microsoft office 365 product key hold your self as strait also . be, as some diving board, bridge, or plank. You're on your forearms and the toes. Virtually any major muscle has to stabilize together in order for this to work out. It's awesome! These tools give environmental benefits as well. If we consider a cream dispenser, it is reusable. Cream chargers are recyclable and will definitely properly throw away. #3 - Temple Run / Temple Run:Brave - Another game that I've reviewed before and I still find myself playing it from time to time. The idea within first game is you'll be running caused by a regarding monkey. things after what I'm guessing is robbing a forehead. Temple Run features tilt, swipe, and tap controls with each doing ingredients thing. Having a power up system and also utilities that will grant various bonuses helps keep you coming back again. The DLC is still around, but this isn't always a necessity to buy anything to generate fun playing the action. It looks like Temple Run: Brave is just a reskinned version of the game featuring characters from the recent Pixar movie "Brave." I haven't given that version a download at this time but while i do, I'll update the review with my responses. The believe some sufferers do not see any actual energy savings having a tankless heater is actually due to a single of the stated advantages of tankless: endless hot liquids. microsoft office 365 product key , some people actually see their gas bills go up because more hot water is using them since there's more available straight away. (This phenomena has been reported staying linked with the presence of teenage girls but hard work no scientific data to contain this however still.) Showers that used become cut short by the hot water depleted can certainly be extended virtually indefinitely. Therefore you in order to go tankless to spend you always be aware until this is a possible issue. Strategize with lists. "Oh, no- less lists!," you could think. Keep lot of lists that implement the conclusions you made in #2-Analyze. In Rid yourself of Clutter, Harriet Schechter recommends keeping a player list, step-by-step lists (breaking down fairly projects to the master list), maintenance checklists for things needing regarding done on the continual basis, a next life list- giving yourself permission for things you will not get around to, information lists with phone numbers, addresses, and etc., pro and con lists, grievance lists to free yourself from the injuries and injustices you have had to suffer, and emergency lists- when you feel SO stressed and overwhelmed and want to be it recorded on paper. There are chapters picked up cold-calling (how to destroy the gate keeper), when using the Internet, positioning yourself as an expert, cross-promotions, and a great deal more.

[goldenroutledge]

“Take your clothes off for me.” “At least take me out on a date first.” “You are bleeding, you were STABBED—” With John b!!!?

for you, anything

pairing(s): john b. routledge x reader, platonic!pogues x reader

wc: 1.7k

warning(s): mentions of stabbing, blood, swearing, but also fluff

a/n: yes ofc. ive been in my john b feels lately and when i read this request it just SCREAMS john b thank u for requesting love

john b. routledge masterlist

© goldenroutledge || do not plagiarize, repost, or translate my work in any way

John B’s treasure hunt may have seemed like a wild goose chase to some, but if anyone believed in him wholeheartedly it was you. You had basically grown up together, coming from similar homes and finding comfort in each other when things got rough. You knew one another in ways nobody else did or ever could, really, which is what made your friendship so special.

Some would not agree with the term friendship, and believed that the two of you would have a flirty and playful banter to mask your feelings for the other as long as it could go on. Tonight, John B would be exploring the hidden well of the Crain estate, where you all had come to the conclusion that the gold was being stored.

JJ and Pope would be making sure John B didn’t totally free fall down the well to his death, while you and Kie were in charge of shutting off the electricity in the fuse box somewhere in the house. Being with Kie made the experience sound a lot less scary, but you were pretty adventurous as it was anyway, so it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

You tuned out JJ’s creepy stories of the Crain family and led the way inside the house, careful of any creaking floor boards. You even tried to keep your breathing quiet, despite your pounding heart as your ears peeled for any sounds at all. As you and Kie were trying to make an exit route, the strong tone of the grandfather clock went off.

Footsteps and the floor underneath them creaked slowly with the movement. You both pushed yourselves flush against the wall once a voice sounded. “Leon?” An old woman called out. Her footsteps appeared closer, now the whole silhouette of Mrs. Crain coming into view from the moonlight shining in through the glass window panes. You both flinched upon seeing her creepy face, breathing growing heavier. “Leon?” She squawked out again, nearing closer to you and Kie.

“Fuck it, run!” Kie urged, both of you bolting in the direction of what you thought was an exit. Dead end after dead end, the old woman following you through her rickety home. “Shit!” Kiara exclaimed, “It’s locked.” You both pointed your flashlights around in a hurry to find another escape. A downward spiral staircase was on the other side of the room, but you would have to cross Mrs. Crain first.

You both came to the conclusion that she was blind, using it to your advantage and attempting to sneak around her. Your loud footsteps and movement gave it away, though, and angered the woman as you both tried to get away. She got hold of a fire poker, dangerously swinging it around to catch either one of you. You both ducked and dodged across the room, opening the gate to the stairwell.

You nudged Kie to go first before she tried to drag you with her, while turning around to close the gate, the fire poker caught you right in your side. You gasped, followed by a bellow of pain at the metal impaling your body. Not enough to make you stop running for your life, thankfully, but enough you were sure to have drawn blood. You slammed the gate shut, charging down the stairs as fast as your legs could take you.

“Guys!” Kie shouted for the boys. “We gotta go, now! She’s after us!” Luckily John B was already being reeled up by JJ and Pope, probably warned by hearing the ruckus from the house.

“Let’s go.” JJ told John B, gathering up the gear and following Pope to the Twinkie. The rest of you were all close behind, gunshots heard from behind you in the distance. As the group piled in, you all took a moment to catch your breath before JJ floored it to the Chateau. Except your breathing was one of the last to come to a slow, adrenaline still high but the pain of your injury now becoming more prominent.

“You ok?” Pope asked, noticing the hurt expression on your face. You could only shake your head no, John B looking back at you from the passenger seat while you clutched your stomach and mumbled curses. Kie asked if she could lift up your sweatshirt, to which you mumbled a ‘sure’, uneasy about seeing the damage for the first time.

The gasps of Pope and Kie were enough of a giveaway for John B to nearly fly out of his seat. “JJ, stop.” His blond friend continued driving, not paying John B any mind. “Stop driving, man.” The van came to a halt, John B pulling the back door open to come sit with you. “Shit, Y/n, what happened? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Pope and Kie helped apply pressure to your wound so you could focus on steadily breathing again to answer any of their questions. “Crain must’ve jabbed her with the fire poker while we were getting away.” Kiara answered for you. You pointed your finger in her direction as a silent affirmation.

“Shit, are you gonna be okay until we get home, Y/n/n?” He asked in a sweet tone, voice coated with concern but also care. You hummed in response, eyes still squeezing shut as tears rolled out. “Words, Y/n/n, talk to me please.” He pleaded, brushing some tears away with his thumbs.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, JB.”

The drive to the Chateau wasn’t too much longer, though it seemed like a lifetime as the others urged you to stay awake and continue interacting with them in some way. The bleeding had stopped, but the fabric of your sweatshirt was still ruined. You knew this wouldn’t be the cleanest adventure of your life, but you didn’t anticipate to get stabbed by a crazy axe murderer either.

Before you could say anything, John B had taken you in his arms bridal style and carried you inside to his bedroom. “I’m gonna put some bandages on her, we’ll be right back.” You heard him tell the group as they moved to a chair or couch sluggishly. The pain and lack of energy combined made you a little delirious, you felt like a sack of potatoes when John B sat you down on the edge of his bed, now requiring much more strength to hold yourself upright. “Take your clothes off for me.” You chuckled and scoffed.

“At least take me out on a date first.” You lazily smiled and looked up into his brown orbs.

“We don’t have time for jokes, Y/n/n. You are bleeding. You were STABBED—”

“Okay, okay. Fineee.” You dragged out, wincing as he helped you take off your hoodie. His eyes averted away from your breasts, disinfecting and bandaging your wound as Pope instructed him to. John B made sure to press a soft kiss to where the clean bandage stuck on your skin, smoothing it out.

“Good as new.” He was relieved to hear a soft laugh escape your lips, in fact, the sound made his heart skip a beat every time. “I’m guessing you want some painkillers?”

“Yes, please.”

Before leaving, he grabbed a few items from inside of his dresser and placed them on the bed next to you. “You can, uhm- change into these while I get your medicine.” You looked through them to see one of his shirts and a pair of plaid pajama pants. You smiled at his gesture.

“Thanks, babe.” In the most totally platonic way, you told him. You freshened up and changed in his bathroom, the cold water feeling good against your hands and face as you splashed your skin lightly.

Sure enough, John B was making the bed up all nice just for you, your medicine and water sitting atop his nightstand. His eyes locked with yours as you exited the bathroom, softening at the pure sight of you in his clothes. He snapped out of it and helped you back onto the bed, handing you the pill and glass of water before sitting down beside you.

“I figured you could just sleep in here tonight? I’ll take the couch if you want me to.” He offered, scratching the back of his neck.

“What? That’s ridiculous, I don’t wanna kick you out of your own bed.”

“You aren’t. You deserve the bed anyway, after the night you’ve had.” You nodded in agreement, taking another long sip of water, feeling the liquid stream through your body. “I’m sorry, by the way.” You turned your confused face to meet his remorseful one.

“What for?”

“Dragging you into all of this. I never meant for you to get hurt.” He swallowed harshly, still debating whether wrapping an arm around you would be appropriate or not. John B felt like he had caused you enough trouble for one night. You reassured him by leaning into his side, to which he welcomed you.

“Don’t worry. It’s not your fault. Plus, I’m not that hurt. I’m lucky she didn’t get me any deeper.”

“Yeah. I’m glad you’re okay.” He rubbed his hand up and down your arm comfortingly, before you lifted his chin with your fingers so he could look into your eyes.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. If that means getting stabbed with a fire poker then so be it. But don’t feel bad, okay?”

He chuckled at your attempt to lighten the mood. “Okay.”

You tilted your head to kiss him on the cheek, before repeating him. “Okay.”

He tucked you into bed after watching the fatigue pull at your pretty but tired eyes, making sure your pillows were fluffed and your blankets were laying how you liked them. “Goodnight, Y/n/n.” He kissed your forehead, shutting off his bedside lamp and turning to leave the room before you stopped him.

“John B?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think you could actually stay in here with me tonight? Like next to me?” He turned around and smiled, a comfortable quiet surrounding the two of you, only the crickets and sounds of nature audible from outside.

“Of course. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you either, angel.”

a/n: this brought me back to when obx first came out. i hope you guys liked it!! let me know :) these “blurbs” are turning into imagines oops i go overboard

taglist: @ilovejjmaybank @rosylinn @nxsmss @cameronsrafe @msgorillagripcoochie @bibliophilewednesday @tovvaa @freddymaybank @annab-nana @babeyglo @sunsetholland @moniamaybank @outerbankspreferences @laneybobeczko-g @jjpouggues

[butwhyduh]

Can we take a moment to appreciate hockey fan Tim?

He's getting do much shit from his family for liking it 😭 and I like hockey too. More than any football 🏈⚽.

Do you think that Tim not only watches hockey but also plays it 👀🏒?

....

Is Tim a good ice skater?

You didn’t ask for all this so sorry but I apparently had a lot to say lmao I love hockey

An excellent ice skater. There was an ice rink between his house and his school and Tim would stop by after school and spend hours there just skating during free skate hours. Finally after doing this for over a year, a peewee hockey coach recognized Tim being a frequent skater and about the same age as his team so he invited Tim to practice and try out.

“Oh, uh, sorry. No. I can’t get hurt or my parents will get mad,” he said. The coach nodded his head and Tim skated away.

When Tim skated back by him, the coach called out “what if I guarantee you won’t get hurt? The way you skate, not many could touch you.”

Tim turned around and skated backwards while thinking about his offer. It was close to closing time and the rink was practically empty. Tim was hesitant but it was better than going home to an empty house. He finally agreed.

“Sure. As long as I don’t break anything,” he agreed.

“Perfect! Practice Saturday at 8 am! See yah there champ,” the coach agreed happily.

Saturday morning with his breath in the air, Tim stood by the familiar skating rink but this time surrounded by kids he didn’t know carrying sticks he didn’t know how to use. The coach put him through the paces with everyone else and Tim had one of the best raw skating ability on the team. But was shit at stick work. But the coach could work on that. Tim was a quick study. Tim got offered a team spot just before practice was over.

“Okay, one last drill,” Coach called. Tim tried to comply but hadn’t learned the drills and in the last 10 minutes of practice ended up nailed against the boards hard enough that the coach groaned.

As his mouth filled with blood from a busted lip, Tim contemplated his choices. And in the next few fateful seconds, his choice to play or not hung in the air. But the kid that boarded him slapped him on the back and said, “ sorry bro. Get me back next, ay?”

Bro? Tim liked that. He grinned bloodily and was soon addicted. Watching it on tv followed quickly.

————————————

Years later

Tim has no idea how good he looks on ice. A natural with good balance. Smooth movements and comfort he rarely shows outside of being Robin. But even you were shocked when you went to pick him up. Despite graduating early and having no ambition for playing college or pro, Tim always played a pickup game with whoever was available from his old peewee team at least once a week.

The game was over and Tim was winding down on ice, passively skating and stretching his arms. He was just in his white under armor undershirt and pants with pads. The shirt stuck to his abs and you could see every breath from the bleachers. His long straight black hair fell out of the low ponytail and headband and stuck to the sweat on his forehead. His lips and cheeks were rosy and he has smile on his face that he only got from taking out his aggression once a week.

He skated over to edge where you stood down on the bottom row right across the glass. You smiled at him while pulling your jacket closer. For some reason being just a few feet from a massive slab of ice was cold.

“Hey,” Tim said, leaning against the boards. You grinned at him and tried to ignore his biceps obvious in tight shirt.

“Hey, have fun?”

“Sure. Come out here,” Tim suggested.

“I don’t know about that. I’m kinda a shit skater,” you admitted. He laughed.

“Good thing I’m an expert. Come on,” he said opening the gate. “Or I’ll hug you while being all gross. Your choice.”

“Tim, if I break something, I’ll kill you,” you replied before letting him lead you to the rental skates. You strapped on a pair and walked back to the ice. Tim grabbed your hand and moved out on the ice. You tightened your grip before stepping out. Your balance fluttered a bit before evening out.

“See! Easy. Let’s skate,” he said, gently pulling you.

“Timmy!”

“You aren’t going to fall,” he said. “If I can fight on ice, I can certainly keep you upright.”

As if a cue, you flung a hand out as you lost your balance. Tim quickly grabbed your arms and pulled your momentum to spin rather than fall causing you to grab him around the waist tightly.

“See, you didn’t fall. You’re doing great! But you are shivering like a leave and hugging me when I’m gross. Let’s get changed and I’ll get you some lunch, yeah?” Tim asked before kissing your cheek.

“You missed,” you said.

“I what?”

“My lips are here,” you pointed. Tim smiled and kissed your lips.

“Alright, let’s get outta here,” he said pulling you off the ice.

[shipping-kitchen]

Sweet Burning Pleasure

Kinktober, Day One: Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiacs

Fandom: Resident Evil VIII

Pairing: Lady Dimitrescu/Female Reader

Words: 4,500

Warnings: body horror, really dubious consent/non-consensual, aphrodisiacs, the reader definitely thinks she’s going to die for most of the fic, lots of blood and blood drinking and vampire things, explicit sex, graphic descriptions of cuts and blood

Summary:  You are a maid in the Dimitrescu Castle, doing your best to keep your head down and survive. You eventually catch the attention of the Lady of the castle.

Important Note: I’m posting my Kinktober one-shots daily on tumblr, unedited! Eventually I’ll edit them and post them on AO3, but for now this is the first draft, and I hope you enjoy it ^-^

You were well aware that working at the Dimitrescu Castle was tantamount to a death sentence, but when Mother Miranda asked for new women to volunteer… it was an honour to be recognized by her. It would guarantee that your parents would eat well for the coming winter. The years in the village had stretched on, and you knew that your chances of staying on the farm were slim. Too many of your childhood friends had already been ushered away, to experiments and servitude to the Lords that surrounded the town.

You could become a wife in the town, produce more children to continue the cycle, but you couldn’t stomach the idea of marrying one of the men that you had grown up beside. Better to step forward, volunteer as a maid, accept the new dress that was sent your way, pack your scant belongings, and hug your parents goodbye as you began the walk towards the castle that loomed above your village.

You were wearing the dress that had been given to you when you were chosen: a grey dress that gathered at the waist and then flared out around your legs, falling to just below your knees. Paired with the apron that rested overtop, it was more elegant than the clothes you grew up with, but still clearly the clothes of a servant.

Your bag bumped against your shoulder blades as you walked through the gates, leaving your village behind. It was early Spring, and the vineyards were beginning to fill with greenery. The lattices surrounded you, the scent of fresh soil and new growth almost covering the decay of the scarecrows that hung around the path.

It was easier to look at the slowly growing vines than to face forward and the castle doors becoming larger as you drew towards it. Your heart was pounding, anxiety prickling on the back of your neck and the tips of your fingers. No one ever came back from the castle, and you had no idea what was waiting for you inside.

All too soon, your feet were climbing the stone steps towards the main doors. You paused in front of them, fixing the folds of your dress and pressing your hair back into place. Then you took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

It was long seconds before the door opened, revealing another woman in a similar grey dress. It wasn’t someone from the village, which didn’t surprise you. All of the Lords hired foreigners, the village not enough to staff their needs. She was an older woman, her hair beginning to grey.

You curtseyed, a small bobbing movement.

“I’m the new maid, ma’am. Sent from the village.”

“Well, come inside.” The woman stepped back and you obediently stepped inside, trying not to flinch as the huge door was shut behind you. “What’s your name, girl?”

The main hall of the castle was resplendent and golden. A large painting of three women was illuminated across the hall. There were delicate vases and intricate designs everywhere you looked. You told the woman your name, occupied with gazing around the hall in awe. You had never seen such splendor, and it filled you with both fear and anticipation.

“Hmm. Well, I’m the housekeeper, Ms. Matheski. You’ll take your orders from me. Welcome to Castle Dimitrescu.”

--

You had expected life at the castle to be something out of a horror movie, abstract ideas of dark hallways and boarded up rooms. The truth was much different: life at the castle was hard work.

There were dozens of rooms, and you had to prepare each one on a rotating schedule. There were sheets to wash in the river, fireplaces to clean out, mantels to polish, floors to mop. Every day, you worked hard and collapsed into bed for a deep sleep.

You rarely saw the mistresses of the castle, dressed all in black and cackling as they walked down the halls together. All of the servants knew to get out of the way when their voices came down the hallway. No one discussed the red crusted around the mistresses’ mouths, but everyone knew. The servants cleaned out the goblets, after all.

Sometimes, you encountered Lady Dimitrescu. While her daughters announced themselves with their raucous conversation, the lady of the house moved with an unpredictable silence. Many times, you were on your knees in front of a fireplace, covered in ashes, when you looked up to see Lady Dimitrescu behind you, watching your work.

The first time it had happened, you had scrambled to your feet, dropping to your lowest curtsey. Your eyes on the ground, you waited. Her presence was all-encompassing: she was so large, and in her white dress, unlike anything else in the castle.

Lady Dimistrecu had laughed and told you to continue working. On her way out of the room, she had touched her fingers to the top of your head, and your knees had gone weak from fear. And then she was gone, and you collapsed back in front of the fireplace.

Since then, you had gotten used to the Lady’s presence, and the way she came and went, overseeing everyone’s work. Those who made mistakes were the ones to disappear: you made sure that you listened carefully and double-checked your work.

And so you survived, into the winter.

--

Winter in the castle was different: the fires were kept blazing, more wood being ordered from the village almost daily. The windows were boarded up, to keep out the cold. Before, the Dimitrescu daughters had come and gone from the castle, but now they remained in their rooms, more sullen and more likely to lash out.

You kept working, you kept your head down. You did your best to avoid the daughters and please the Lady. Ms. Matheski was never displeased with your work, but she wasn’t warm with any of the girls who worked in the castle. You didn’t blame her.

One day, you had been assigned to the main hall. The main hall had to be cleaned daily, unlike the other rooms, and it was a dangerous assignment. Lady Dimitrescu was picky about the banister, and the daughters often came through the main hall on their way from their rooms. The winter was dragging on, and the mistresses were restless. Daniella, especially, had taken to tormenting the maids: tearing their clothes, throwing rats at them while they worked, and occasionally dragging them off to the lower levels, where you had never been asked to work.

You made your way into the main hall cautiously, entering through the servant door. It was empty, and you got down to work. The fireplace was first, cleaned out and then refilled with new wood and lit again. The castle was kept at a warmth that was almost stifling in winter, but you knew better than to complain.

Once the fire was lit, you turned your attention to the dishes that had been left on the table in the hall. The daughters liked to dine here, and often left a mess. It would take you several trips across the castle to the kitchen to clear the table, so it was best to get started.

You gathered up the first stack of dishes and made off, your dress swirling around your legs as you made your way down the familiar hallways. You tried not to let them rattle, cautious of drawing attention to yourself, and breathed a sigh of relief when you reached the kitchen without incident.

“Dishes from the main hall,” you told the maid washing dishes. “More to come.”

She nodded in acknowledgement and you headed back out the door, your soft leather shoes making no noise on the carpeted hallway as you went back to the main hall.

When you entered the hall, you froze. Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters were all in the hall, warming themselves in front of the fire you had recently lit. Bela was reclining against her mother’s chest, her sisters’ heads resting on their mother’s legs. It was a relaxed tableau, and not something you felt that you should be present for.

But Lady Dimistrecu was already looking towards the door as you stepped in, so you dropped into a hasty curtsy and reached behind yourself for the door.

“Please, continue,” the Lady commanded, waving her hand towards you. “The table needs clearing.”

“Yes, my Lady,” you said, hearing your voice come out quiet and hesitant. You clenched your jaw against your own hesitation, and walked towards the table. You could feel the eyes of the daughters upon you. You only hoped that their closeness with their mother would be enough to keep them content.

You gathered the plates and the goblets, trying to keep your hands from shaking. You could do this, despite the eyes on you. You could do this.

Distracted by your fear and the prickling awareness of your watchers, you picked up one of the knives the wrong way, and felt hot pain shoot through your palm.

You inhaled, but made no sound of pain, and forced yourself not to jerk back. Instead, you calmly placed the knife on the stack of plates with the others, and picked up the stack.

When you turned, Cassandra was standing directly in front of you. You had never seen one of the daughters this close, and it was immediately apparent that there was something wrong with her eyes. It looked like there was something moving inside the darkness of her pupils.

You refused to flinch backwards. Fear crawled up your spine, but you stood still. You held the plates steady. Your palm was burning where you had cut it.

Cassandra’s hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist.

Despair grew around you. This was sure to be the end, no matter how careful you had been.

She pulled your hand forward, and there was no resisting her grip. The plates slipped from your grasp and shattered on the floor at your feet.

Your palm was splayed upwards, and you could see how shallow the cut had been. Only a few beads of blood were brought to the surface, tiny droplets along a jagged line where the knife had dug into your skin.

An unnatural whine came from Cassandra’s chest, more like a cicada’s song than a human voice. She leaned towards your palm, and you closed your eyes, unwilling to watch.

There was a growl and then a harsh tug as Cassandra’s hand was pulled off your wrist. You pulled your hand back to your chest, opening your eyes to see Bela tussling with Cassandra on the floor, both of them making a strange growling-whining noise.

“Mine,” Cassandra hissed.

“Mine,” Bela growled back, and slammed her hand through her sister’s head. Insects exploded around her arm, twining up towards Bela’s face, and both of them dissolved into a swarm of struggling insects. As they fought, you took two steps back, and then pelted towards one of the further doors.

You didn’t expect to make it, but somehow, the door was closing behind you and you were still running, following the winding hallways back to your room. You slammed the door to your room and leaned against it, panting.

You could feel your heartbeat drumming against your ribs and your temples, your hand clenched in a fist around the cut that had started the fight. You knew, logically, that you aren’t safe here. This room was just another part of their castle, it would be easy enough to find you.

But you were in your own space. No one had ever come into this room while you’d been here. It was your safety in the castle. A place where you had never felt afraid. The fear was already beginning to fade, even as you struggled to hold onto it. Should you run? Would they forget? Would their mother blame you for their fight?

You unclenched your hand and looked at the cut again. The blood was already beginning to dry. You knew you should clean it, your hands still ashy from the fireplace. There was a washbasin in your room and you moved towards it, dipping your hands into the cold water. It came from the well outside the castle, and while it was boiled for the Lady’s baths and morning toilette, it was still cold for your own basin. It grounded you, washed away the last of the adrenaline. You watched the ashes swirl into the water. There wasn’t enough blood to turn the water pink. Such a small cut.  

Surely it would be easily forgotten.

As you dried your hands, there was a knock on your door. One, two, three raps, and then silence.

The fear returned, a lump in your throat as you moved towards the door. There were no windows in your room, no escape from whatever waited on the other side. A disappointed housekeeper, a curious maid, a murderous mistress…

You put your hand on the doorknob, inhaled, and opened the door.

White fabric greeted you, falling in elegant ripples to the ground.

“Hello, my pet,” said Lady Dimitrescu. “May I come in?”

You stumbled back, unable to deny her. She bent to enter your room, her hat brushing the edges of the doorway. Like her daughters, she was pale as moonlight. When she straightened, she was very close to the ceiling. The servant’s quarters lacked the high ceilings of the rest of the house, not made with the Lady of the house in mind.

“I’m sorry, my Lady,” you managed. “I didn’t mean to drop the plates.”

“Mmm. My daughters are impatient. I don’t blame you for the accident.” Lady Dimitrescu reached towards you, and you allowed it. Her hand wrapped around your wrist, just as Cassandra had held you earlier, but the scale was different. Her palm cupped your entire wrist, her fingers wrapping up your arm to the elbow. You had never felt so small, so helpless, so delicate. “I’ve spoken with them.”

“I… thank you.” Your body was thrumming with a mixture of fear, hope, and contact. Her fingertips rested delicately on the inside of your arm, against the veins.

“You are a rare delight,” Lady Dimitrescu murmured. “You caught my daughters off-guard.” Gently, she turned your palm upwards to show the faint line where the knife had cut. Her thumb traced the mark, expression going hazy for a moment. “You surprised me as well.”

“My Lady?” you asked, unsure what to make of her attention. You tried pulling your hand back, and her grip tightened on your arm, sudden enough to make you gasp. Her eyes snapped upwards to meet your gaze, and she looked hungry.

“It’s been a long winter, my dear,” Lady Dimitrescu said, as if it were a confession, as if this were a conversation, as if she were not holding you in place. “The wine is sweet, but you… are almost certainly sweeter.”

That was enough for you to know where this was going. You pushed yourself backwards, trying to wrench your arm from Lady Dimitrescu’s grasp, but it was no use. Her fingers were like marble on your wrist, solid and unbreaking.

“Hush, my pet.”

Her other hand wrapped around the back of your neck, and you heard yourself make a short sound of fear. Instinct made you freeze in place, your nape cradled in her palm. Her fingers rested on your collarbones. She was leaning down above you, and her eyes were so dark and hungry.

“It will not hurt,” Lady Dimitrescu whispered.

And then her lips were on your neck, and she was lying, it hurt, soft lips and sharp teeth and then searing pain up and down your spine. You could hear yourself crying out, you could hear the sound of her licking the blood from the bite mark. It was wet and wrong and you couldn’t free yourself from her grasp, no matter how you squirmed in her arms.

It seemed like forever before the pain began to dull, still radiating along your shoulder and back. The ache drew inwards and became almost unimportant. Lady Dimitrescu’s arms were strong around you. You could let your body relax, and still she held you close to her. Your blood had stained the white satin of the arm she held behind your head, keeping your neck steady as she fed. You could feel her lips and tongue, teasing the ragged holes made by her teeth, keeping the blood flowing. But somehow, it just didn’t hurt. You found yourself eased by her closeness, the certainty of her hold on your body.

Between one breath and the next, Lady Dimitrescu drew back with one last kiss to your wounds. She looked like her daughters now, crimson all around her lips and dripping down her chin, messy and dark. She groaned as she looked down at you, her gaze flickering from your neck to your eyes and back again.

You still felt like unable to move. Lady Dimitrescu was holding you, and there was no need to go anywhere. Your limbs were too heavy, even if you had wanted to. You blinked up at her, dazed by the hunger that still burned in her eyes after her meal.

Gently, Lady Dimitrescu lifted you into her arms like a child, cradling your head and hips. She laid you down on the bed, traced a finger through the ruined skin where she had bit you.

“As sweet as any fruit before Mother’s gift,” the Lady whispered, kneeling beside the bed. “You are exquisite.”

You wanted to touch the blood on her lips, but your hand only lifted slightly when you tried to move it.

She smiled at the movement, took your hand in hers. Again, you felt like a doll between her palms, so all-encompassing.

“Let me give you a gift of my own, my sweet.” You watched Lady Dimitrescu reach up and take off her hat, tossing it carelessly to the other side of the room. Her hair was held in a low coil behind her head, and she pulled the elastics from it, letting the waves fall over her shoulders. From the centre of the coil, she extracted a narrow blade. It was silver, delicate carvings on the blade flashing in the low lights of your room.

The Lady of the castle always wore gloves, but now she took them off and put them on your bedside table. Beneath the leather gloves, her hands were grey and white lines like marble spread beneath her skin. She rolled up one blood-soaked sleeve of her dress, and you saw that the white and grey lines went all the way up her body. Glancing at her face, from so close to her, it was clear that she was wearing some kind of makeup to make her appear pale like her daughters.

Lady Dimitrescu brought the blade down on her own arm, and you watched it cut through her skin. You half-expected the blood to be grey, but it was as red as your own.

She held her arm over your mouth, and you felt the warm droplets drip onto your lips. Soon your lips would look just as scarlet as hers.

“Open up, my pet,” Lady Dimitrescu told you, a smile in her voice.

Obediently, you parted your lips, and the blood met your tongue. It didn’t taste like metal and copper, as it did when you bit your lip. This was rich and full and thick, burning in your throat like whiskey when you swallowed it.

“Good.”

She watched you drink, your blood on her lips and hers on your own. The burning in your throat spread to your stomach and then out to the tips of your toes and your fingers, even your scalp prickling with sudden warmth. The dull ache of your neck went away, and when Lady Dimitrescu passed her fingers over the bitemark again, you felt that the holes are gone, your skin whole and healed. Her fingers still came back red with blood, though, which she licked from her fingertips with clear enjoyment.

Too soon, her arm healed and the blood stopped. You opened your mouth, silently asking for more, and she laughed at you, a low chuckle that made the burning even worse.

Then she leaned down and pressed her lips to yours.

There was the familiar taste of your own blood, thin and metallic. There was the unfamiliar feeling of lips against yours, prompting and playing. Her teeth nipped at your lip, and you returned the favour. She hummed approval, and you brought your hands up to run your fingers through her hair. You hadn’t noticed when the heaviness had left your body, but now every atom of you was screaming that you want to be closer to her.

Your Lady pressed into the kiss, overwhelming you for a moment. There was so much to think about, tongue and teeth and lips and the silken feeling of her hair. Her fingers were cupping your chin, changing the angle of the kiss, trailing down your neck to caress your collarbones.

The light touches were setting your body on fire, pressing up to get more contact. Lady Dimitrescu obliged, curling herself over you. Her knees rested low on the bed, her arms wrapped around you, the bed complaining under your combined weight. She was a solid wall of fabric brushing against your chest, your hips, and you wanted to be closer.

Lady Dimitrescu broke from the kiss and you moved on instinct, pressing your lips to the corner of her jaw. She tilted her head, giving you access, and you kissed down the elegant curve of her neck. When the need for more pressed at you again, you bit down on her neck. She moaned, and it was the most human sound you’d heard from her all night. You kissed and bit down to her shoulder, pushing the fabric of her dress out of the way.

You felt like you were out of your mind with this strange burning that flared through your body, needing something from her, needing everything from her. You tore satin in your quest for her skin, some still-rational part of your brain shocked at your audacity.

Grey skin stretched down her shoulders, marked with those same pale lines. She was warm under your lips, and you scraped her skin with your teeth. Lady Dimitrescu shifted against you, holding you closer, and you could hear her breathing unevenly.

At least you weren’t alone in this wild need. She was hungry for you, and you could taste it when she brought your lips back to hers, with new urgency.

“Please, my Lady,” you managed when she drew back. You didn’t know what you were begging for, and she was a work of art with her dress torn, hanging off one shoulder, blood and lipstick smeared across her chin.

“Yes,” Lady Dimistrescu said, her voice low. She leaned back and you whined at the loss of her warm presence, but then her hands were lifting your dress, effortlessly freeing you from its layers. The rush of air on your bare skin did nothing to cool the fire, and you grabbed for her wrists as she threw your dress carelessly across the room.

Only when Lady Dimitrescu’s hands were back on your bare skin did you relax, arching into the sensation. Her fingers are a little sharp, and she traced them delicately across the lines of your ribs, the soft rolls of your stomach, and then, teasing, across the curve of your breasts. You could feel your breath catch, helpless to stop yourself from pressing into the touch.

She practically purrs at that, leaning down to lick the remaining blood from your neck. Stopping to nibble your collarbone, she mouths down to the top of your breasts, cupping them and tracing their outline. It is a sublime torture as Lady Dimitrescu puts her mouth to you and you feel her tongue tracing around your swiftly hardening nipple.

You hear your voice crying out, hear your Lady humming her pleasure, feel her hands pinning down your hips. The air is cold: the sheets are soft: there is so much sensation racing through your body.

“Please,” you whisper, shuddering against her. “Please, please.”

And her hands run down from your hips, along the line of your outer thighs, and then delicately up the delicate inner thigh, making you squirm. She is close to where you’re soaking through your undergarments, so close and so far.

You’re panting, burning, moaning, and then her hands are finally on you, certain through the fabric. Her tongue, her fingers, you rock between them, overwhelmed.

Lady Dimitrescu slides your undergarments down without lifting her mouth from your breast and then you are bare to her, entirely. You can feel how wet you are when she runs her fingers across you. It’s too much and not enough.

Her touch leaves you for a moment, and you gasp for breath. When she touches you, it feels like the whole world narrows to her fingers and mouth. Without her, there is too much. The room is cold and you are still burning.

Lady Dimitrescu doesn’t make you wait long: she slides back on top of you, her knees caging your legs as she bends down to kiss you. She is too large for the bed, nearly bent in half to reach your mouth, a nightmare of grey skin and streaked blood, and she is everything you desire. She kisses with a demanding pace, and you return it.

Her fingers creep back up your inner thighs and you spread your legs as best you can. Your Lady is quick to return to your centre, starting slowly with her exploration. It brings the fire down for a moment, calm strokes along your folds, teasing brushes across your clit. Then the light touches begin to be too little, and you squirm under her. She draws back from the kiss to laugh again, and strokes you in earnest. Pleasure blooms from her fingers, and you lose track of your body. Your edges are dissolving into something greater, the only concrete part of you the place where her fingers are taking you apart.

She bites down again, this time just above your collarbone, and everything comes apart.

There are waves of awareness and pleasure, Lady Dimitrescu guiding you through them with leisurely movements of her fingers.

Once the shaking has passed, you collapse onto your pillow. Everything feels very distant, echoes of a real world that has stopped existing.

Lady Dimitrescu presses a kiss to the bloody mark that she left on your shoulder, and shifts you closer to her. When she bends her legs, she barely fits onto the bed, and your legs are draped over her thighs, your head pillowed on her arm.

“Sleep, my sweet,” your Lady whispers, running her thumb over the curve of your hip. “Rest and heal. I will be here when you wake.”

You have no choice but to obey, darkness dragging you downwards. The last thing you are aware of is the warmth of her embrace.

[luckyasfuck]

maybe i just wanna be yours [k. bakugou]

A CAMBOY AU SERIES - PARTS 1, 2, [3], 4, 5

pairing // katsuki x female reader

tw // cussing, smut

warnings for this part // (kinda?) mutual masturbation

theme // enemies to lovers au, camboy!katsu au, college student!katsu and reader au, no quirk au

keys // y/n, l/n, h/c

words // 1.8k

a/n // pt. 4 will be written at 100 likes and posted at 5-10 reblogs :). i’m glad ya’ll are enjoying it, send criticism and/or ideas in my inbox.

previous part I masterlist

y/n’s head was no longer cloudy.

it scared her at first,  her twitter username and bio must have gave it all away. part of her hoped that katsuki wouldn’t notice the notification, and if he did, well she hopes he’d be too dumb or oblivious to know it was her. but of course, bakugou fucking katsuki wasn’t like that. y/n would know, especially when she woke up him following her back.

fucking son of a bitch.

it was very obvious that it was katsuki. from his voice during lives to his demeanor with his posts: reserved. it was a bitch to think about, no matter what y/n did it was all that occupied her mind. she was aware of the comments she had left on his last live, her other hand too busy pumping her fingers in and out of her pussy to make more than two. that’s what bothered her. not only did she get off to her rival of all people, she did it twice. twice!

she thought about it the whole morning as she reached UA. a person came from behind and bumped her shoulder, rushing to the group of people crowding the main gate. y/n knotted her eyebrows, her mind was too all over the place to know what they could have been fussing about.

the crowd completely blocked the gate and she sighed, opting to take another route until someone grabbed her arm. thinking it was a teacher or a student, she turned around with a smile.

what the fuck.

katsuki stood there gripping her arm and her heart dropped. she yanks his hand away and glared at him, goddamn if looks could kill katsuki would’ve made it to heaven right about now. she stared at him with so much intensity, it almost looked like she was gonna go crazy over the fact that he stopped her, let alone even touch her.

fuck, that’s hot. katsuki gulped and mentally slapped himself after the thought. “don’t let the teachers see you-” he whispered, looking around. y/n sighed, “too late.” she looked behind him where their Biology professor stood with a smile.

“good morning, kids! i’m glad i found you two together, which is um... quite new, don’t you think?” the old woman greeted. katsuki rolled his eyes before facing her, standing beside y/n.

the h/c-haired girl didn’t like being near him at all, he had this weird aura and she didn’t know what his intentions were at all. and him approaching her for the first time without being forced by a professor after the shenanigans of last night? way too timed to be a coincidence, though she wishes it was. 

“if you don’t know yet, our school’s competing with others schools with this little competition our school made.” the old woman got straight to the point. “the competition is that weekly for this month, a duo would take a quiz on a specific subject together. the subject changes every week and the questions get harder and harder! the 5 duos with the lowest scores are eliminated. it’s said on the board right there!” she pointed to where the students crowded.

“um, okay...? why are you telling us this then?” y/n questioned, adjusting her grip on her bag as the professor smiled again whilst katsuki breathed out a loud sigh. 

“i want you both to be the duo that represents our school!”

“miss-” katsuki started, but got cut off. “don’t you think we’re the worst duo for this? i mean,” y/n laughed sarcastically. “you know we hate each other, everyone fucking knows tha-”

“language, miss l/n.” the professor’s sternly scolded and y/n flinches a bit at the change of mood. “yes, ma’am.” the younger girl looked down on her shoes. “i think it’s a good opportunity for the two of you,” the old woman pointed to the two students. “to get along. you two are really gifted, and i don’t want our school to lose this or get humiliated just because you two have beef with each other for reasons unknown.”

y/n was sweating under her jacket and she gulped as the woman walked away, letting them know her decision was final. katsuki breathed out a deep sigh, face-palming. “what are we gonna do now? knowing that bitch, she’ll tell everyone we said yes.”

y/n didn’t bother to argue with the blonde, she knew he was right. the crowd near the gate starts to disappear and she leaves without responding to katsuki. she doesn’t know where the fuck he got the confidence to talk to her so casually. more like she wished she didn’t know.

she knew that he knew.

and he knew that she knew too. 

so simple yet so complicated.

class dragged out and y/n hasn’t spared a single glance at katsuki. she’s done this almost everyday since she met him, so it was easy to do. if only he’d stop staring into her soul, knowing she can see him in the corner of her eye. 

katsuki’s always liked to stare, though he had nothing to stare at. and now he does, even he doesn’t like how much he’s staring. he’d snap out of it, curse himself and y/n too while he’s at it, then get caught in a daze while staring at her again. 

multiple teachers approached them and individually asked them about the competition, their answers were the same the whole time, a bland “yeah, we’re competing as the duo.”

the students sat in their last class, blabbering around and not caring anymore. it was the last class, after all. they were tired and wanted to go home, but of course, they can’t. at least not yet. y/n didn’t feel like listening, she was tired too. doodling in her notebook, her heart drops when the professor calls her name. fuck, i don’t know the answe-

“oh. and mister bakugou too. i think it’s for the competition, the principal wants you two.” the old male lets out an intrigued hum. “don’t you guys hate each other?” y/n and katsuki walked out the room silently, filling the room with embarrassment on the professors side. 

the female walked on the other end of the corridor, she didn’t like katsuki at all. his mere presence makes her gag, and she knows it’s the same for him too. that’s why they opted to stay as far away from each other as possible.

the ash blonde walks into the principal’s office with y/n hot on his trail. “take a seat.” the principal said, not looking up from his paperwork. “listen, you two. i heard a lot from teachers about how you compete with each other, but the both of you are the smartest duo here. all i want is for you two to study together and pass the quizzes as best as you can. you don’t even have to get along! and your grades will be perfect A+’s for the whole month, and if you win, maybe i’ll extend to a month more.”

y/n and katsuki’s eyes widened at the offer, it was so tempting. and education always came first before pride anyway. “fine, i’ll do it.” y/n was the first to speak while katsuki just nodded his head.

“it’s settled then.”

[ timeskip ]

y/n plopped down on her bed. the two of them got sent home early and were forced to share socials with each other. they were also granted permission to use the library whenever they wanted, and were given the schedule to study together from their last two classes until whenever they liked. and before going their separate ways, she told katsuki to text her a plan if he had one.

her phone dings and she automatically assumed it was him. and it was. just... a little more lewd. definitely not what she was expecting.

y/n cussed, “since when the fuck did i let this stupid fucking site give me notifications?” katsuki’s heavy breathing and occasional grunts boomed through her speaker and she hurried to click off it, until her eyes landed on his cock.

from what seemed like it, he had already cum once, the white liquid dripping from his slit down his lenght. y/n can’t seem to tear her eyes from the way he stroked his cock, so gentle yet so rushed, so... satisfying.

she shakes her head and kicks herself out of her absurd train of thoughts, thumb hovering over the ‘X’ on the top left of the site. “have you joined the live, pretty face?” she flinches when she heard his raspy voice, thighs unconciously rubbing together and panties already soaked. 

“i hope you have, fuck. been thinking about you all day, mhmm~ why don’t you drop your little comments for me?” she could practically hear the smirk in his words, and it irritated her. but fuck, if he wasn’t so attractive. his perfectly sculpted body, his voice, and that pretty cock. it was that fucking cock.

“are you touching yourself, pretty face? you better. this live’s all for you.” katsuki moaned out, stroking himself faster. y/n watched as the chat went crazy, all of them confessing their sins to him like he was some sort of God.

and maybe he was, cause she found herself running a finger through her wet folds as she watched the camboy play with his tip. she shoves a finger inside, moaning with him before moving in and out parallel to his strokes. 

katsuki comes again, his strokes coming to a half. he pants before smirking, “pretty face, lookie here.” he shows a fleshlight to the camera, his tip prodding at the toys entrance. y/n slowly adds another finger as he sunk the toy down onto his cock, both of them moaning.

they both fuck themselves into oblivion while thinking of each other, katsuki’s hips violently fucking into the toy as he hissed, “fuck, i bet your pussy feels a lot better.” y/n felt her cunt clench around her finger at the statement as she started to rub her clit as well. 

she orgasms a little bit before katsuki shot his load into the toy, both their movements halting as they tried to catch their breath. she types in a comment before finally exiting the site, feeling slightly disgusted of what she just did. she shudders and opts on taking a shower before napping.

“you dirty little thing.”

katsuki felt his cock twitch at y/n’s comment. he ended the live right after, knowing she probably left already. the notifications for money he hoarded sat heavy on his account and he smiled, cleaning himself up after. the image of her with her legs open, her fingers buried deep in her cunt and her moaning uncontrollably was all that filled katsuki’s brain.

and he fucking hates it. he hates how much power the desires of his cock had over him when he was horny.

and the only desire his cock had was her.

next part I masterlist

taglist:

@princesspeach-00 @tamakisropebunny @bakugous-mamas @ll379333 @j1-914 @gazelle-des-pres @trashpandainahat @dickinson-67 @victoriaestein @amelie-chan @your-worst-obsession [ cannot tag last two ]

[duskamethyst]

de trop.

a/n: idk why but i love creepy and asshole dabi. also, i noticed i just went slightly over 100 followers. thank you!

word count: 5.3k

genre: quirkless AU, smut, nsfw, mature

warnings: disgusting–  noncon, dubcon, pseudo incest, infidelity, forced breeding, degradation

pairings: touya x f!reader (with mentions of enji x reader)

summary: you and enji are married to each other. there is still tension in his relationship with his children and they are still in the process of accepting you as their new mother but touya takes the initiative to get closer to you.

being married to enji todoroki isn’t easy.

you’re a sight for sore eyes. young with a body that’s to die for. to some people, you were considered as a trophy wife or a gold digger judging from the obvious age gap between the two of you and how wealthy he was. you and enji paid no mind to it, the love and trust you had for each other was more than enough to keep the relationship going and it was all that mattered. you enjoyed playing the role of a little housewife; cooking, cleaning and managing the household while he provided for the family. 

his children had a hard time accepting it but what child wouldn’t when their new (super hot) mom is around their age and the strains they had before you exist in their lives didn’t help either. it took months for any of them to even speak to you, and it’s usually only a couple of words throughout a week. deep inside you knew if they ever had a say in their father’s marriage with you, they would be quick object to it.  

you love them, though– with all your heart. you didn’t want to feel like an outsider. you hope to be in their good graces sooner or later so they could fully accept you into the family. you even tried to learn what their favorite meals are and how to cook it. aside from enji, you’ve never really gotten any compliments for your cooking but it’s okay, you took it as an opportunity to try harder! dinner time was always a bit racking and quiet, neither of you nor his children really tried to talk to each other and even when you tried, you were always answered with one word replies that entirely cut off the whole conversation. after dinner, they’d usually walk out from the room to be alone by themselves, leaving only you and enji by the table. nonetheless, fuyumi was nice enough to help you with the dishes. 

usually it'd only be the same faces you see around the house in the evening: enji, natsuo, fuyumi and shouto. all of them were usually occupied with their normal activities outside the house, leaving you alone to manage whatever there was that needed to be done and the only time you’d usually walk out of the house was when you needed to buy groceries. you’re aware that your husband had a total of four children, but you rarely saw the eldest around and you had no idea what he did for a living. all you knew is that you’re a couple of years older than him.

you saw him once at the wedding ceremony, though only for a short while. enji had introduced you to him; touya. if anything, he seemed rather uninterested about the whole thing but you were grateful that he made an effort to come to the wedding although he was also the first one to leave and you never heard from him ever again. like all people around his age, he probably had a lot going on in his life right now.

turning the corner to the todoroki’s residence, you are suddenly met with a male sitting down in front of the gates. you slow down in your tracks as you try to identify the mysterious guy while your hand clutches on your phone harder in preparation to call the police in case it turns out to be some perpetrator roaming the neighborhood in broad daylight. 

however, the man notices you and turns his head towards you– immediately greeting you with his cerulean orbs; a very prominent feature of the todoroki family. 

“touya?” you call hesitantly as the male stands up on his feet, his hands shoved lazily inside his pockets. 

“yeah.” he simply replies as he eyes you up and down when you walk up to him with a grocery bag in one of your hands.

“it’s nice seeing you again!” you chirp as you look up to him in awe, unnoting the mischievous glint in his eyes and his lips quirk into a lopsided smile. “are you here to see your father?” 

“kinda, yeah.” he scratches the back of his neck as he steps aside to allow you to open the gate for the both of you.

“well, he’s at work right now.” you frown before smiling again when an idea pops inside your head. “but you can stay until he’s back. i’ll cook you something while we wait for him. you must be hungry!”

touya doesn’t answer but instead he follows you inside the house. after sliding into your house slippers, you put down your groceries on the table and swiftly put on your apron before taking out the ingredients to begin cooking. 

“i’m not sure what you like… but i can make curry or omelette rice for now.” 

touya snickers as he leans on the kitchen island, eyeing you as you fish out the vegetables from the refrigerator and the grocery bag, “don’t trouble yourself.”

“oh, i insist!” you wave your hand dismissively. “we’re family, after all.”

you turn to the sink to wash each of the vegetables and eggs thoroughly all while striking up a conversation. as you’re about to reach for the cutting board and the knife, a pair of hands suddenly rests on your shoulders, making you jump in surprise. you turn your head around to see touya looming too close behind you as his gaze boringly through you. 

“um, do you need something?” you ask nervously, wiping your wet hands on your apron that you only wrap around your waist and below. 

he ponders for a moment as he continues to stare at you before speaking, “just wondering how you ended up with a scumbag.”

your eyes widen in shock at the heinous word that rolled off his tongue. you’re well aware of the tension in enji’s relationship with his children but none of them dared to say such words about him– well, at least not in front of you but the mocking smile etched on his lips makes you fumed inside and you’re definitely not having it. 

“listen,” you shove his hands away and turn your body towards him. “if you’re here just to insult any of us, the door is wide open for you.”

touya whistles as he revels in the amusement of watching you play the role of a good little wife for his dear father. such pitiful little thing. throwing your youth away and devoting your life for the man that least deserves it. he finds it even more ridiculous how hot you are and his dad was the one that managed to land you, not him. where the fuck did he even find you? why did you even end up with him? you obviously made a mistake and he wants you to see it.

“how good was it? you got fucked dumb by his cock or something?” he jeers. 

you feel your cheeks begin to heat up from anger and embarrassment from his crude words that your hand instantly lifts up to give him a slap on the face. however, it never reaches his cheek instead he has caught you by the wrist– just a few inches away before he’d actually feel the harsh impact. 

“tsk,” he scowls before twisting your hand and making you turn back around and shoves you in front of the counter as you yelp in pain. “got some fight in you, huh? no wonder that old geezer likes you.”

“t-touya– it hurts!” you whine as you struggle under him. he notices how your ass subconsciously rubs on his groin with each movement and (as if he wasn’t already mid hard from seeing your ass when you bent down in front of the fridge) he feels his cock twitch inside the restraints of his pants. he notices that you might’ve realized it too since you suddenly stop grappling and freeze underneath him. 

“why’d you stop?” he chuckles. “such a tease, aren’t you?” 

a tint of pink spreads across your cheeks in shame this time and you quickly shake your head to deny the outrageous accusation. seeing how fast you change from being so uptight to suddenly becoming uneasy in front of him, he thinks you look like a puppy that just got kicked and trembling in fear. and boy, it sparks some sort of disgusting excitement in him. 

“you see,” touya’s fingers reach for the loose ribbon of the apron, easily tugging it as it comes undone before carelessly discarding it to the floor. “it makes me a little jealous.”

as much as your mind is spinning and how scared you feel right now, your eyes wander around to look for something to protect you since you still have your other free hand to reach for the knife. there’s no way you are going to commit murder but you still could threaten him to leave you alone, the very least. if only you could reach for it, though. 

as if he could read your mind, touya grabs a fistful of your hair that leaves a stinging pain on your scalp in order to pull your body back against his. your neck twists to the side as he forces you to look into his menacing eyes. 

“pay attention to me when i’m talking to you.” a sharp and threatening tone enfolds in his voice as he speaks. before you could retaliate, touya turns both of you around and pushes you down towards the kitchen island with his weight pressing behind you to keep you from escaping. he releases the clutch to your wrist and your hands quickly try to prise the hand that has been holding the back of your head. despite your efforts, his grip only remains tighter and makes you wail in agony. 

“shut up.” you don’t miss the rattling sound of a metal buckle coming from your back. when he releases the grasp on your hair, he swiftly pulls both of your wrists together and next thing you know, the texture of leather can be felt brushing against your skin. 

“touya, let go.” you muster all the courage you still have but your voice betrays you as it comes out weak and meek. 

“no,” he grins. “i like seeing you like this.” he presses his body down further, making you bend down on the counter and you gasp in surprise as he takes the opportunity to rub his hard-on against your ass. 

“fuck.” he growls in your ear. the friction feels like an itch that he finally gets to reach. almost. the soft flesh feels so good against his cock and he can’t help but wonder what it’d feel like to be inside of you. you must be warm and tight. god, he hopes it’s tight. 

it’s wrong. it’s so wrong. you chant inside your head as you find your thighs already pressing against each other while touya is making himself busy finding relief from your back and the grunts in your ear don't help either. you want to cry, you want him to stop but the twisted feeling in your gut tells you otherwise. you feel revolted and disappointed in yourself.

the grinding comes to a halt as he pushes himself back to take off your jeans. the thick fabric is in the way and it isn’t enough for the ache in his pants. his bottom lip gets caught between his teeth as he relishes in the sight of your ass, adorned with a pair of simple red panties that seems to be provoking him further. 

“shit, you’re gonna make me cream in my pants.” touya smacks the flesh hard enough to see it bounce and you yelp in shock and humiliation. his fingers move around your thigh to reach your clit and to both of your surprise, your juices are already pooling and forming a damp patch on the flimsy fabric. 

your heart stops and your eyes wide open in horror as touya’s sinister laugh rings in your ears. 

“holy fuck. mommy is a fucking whore.” he mocks, voice laced with amusement on his discovery. 

“stop this, touya.” you plea but a sharp pain shoots throughout your body as a hand comes down hard on your ass again. he has one hand pushing you down on the island by the neck, your cheek pressed against the cold marble and one roughly spreads your legs apart before pulling your panties down, the slick forming a clear string from your sopping cunt onto the fabric and eventually splits as it slides down further to the floor. 

“why? you clearly enjoy this.” he breathes against the shell of your ear, making your body shudder in response. you open your mouth to retort, instead a soft mewl slips out from your lips when his fingers creep up on your slits and coating it with your essence. his thumb rubs circles on your throbbing clit and it got you biting your lower lip to stop any more shameful noises from escaping. 

seeing how stubborn you are is leaving him unsatisfied so touya props himself on his knees and pulls you closer to his face by the hips. he swallows almost too loudly when he sees how your pussy is glistening with your slick when he spreads open the folds with his fingers. immediately, he sticks out his tongue and begins to lap off the juices from your dripping cunny. 

“nggh– ” you try to push away but the firm hold he has on your thighs only pulls you closer to his face and cements you in place. you turn your head to look back at the male, but the sight of his face drowning between your ass cheeks only adds more fuel to your arousal. his eyes flutter open and catch you staring. he continues to lock his gaze with yours as he watches you whimper when he inserts his tongue into your wet, gaping hole. 

it feels so lewd, so dirty but fuck it makes your hips jerk desperately closer to his face, wanting his tongue to fuck inside you deeper and drool starts to trickle from the corner of your mouth. the kitchen is filled with nothing but the pants and squelching sounds that are borderline pornographic as he sucks and laps all your essence. touya revels in your flavor as his wet muscle moves in and out deliciously while his mind wanders and curses how enji got to be the one to taste you like this every night. 

“wanna cum already?” he audibly whispers as he realizes how your legs are already trembling. if it wasn't for him holding your thighs, you would’ve sink down to the floor. 

it shouldn’t be a question. of course you want to cum. he’s only asking because he wants to humiliate you and probably to boost his ego. so you remain quiet through the heavy breathing while painfully trying to deny your orgasm. 

a cocky grin quirked on his lips and you don’t miss how his chin and lips are shimmering wet with your juices. touya is strong-willed and he takes your stubbornness as a challenge. he actually prefers to deny you your orgasm but he’ll save it for another time because right now, he wants nothing more than to make you cum on his tongue. 

“can’t hear you, doll face.” he slides in two digits inside your cunt and groans at the way your walls are already milking his fingers. touya can’t wait to ram his cock inside your tight pussy so he sets up a new determination; pumping his fingers fast and deep to make you cum faster. 

an uncomfortable sensation is squeezing down in your core from the intrusion. it gives you some sort of relief and throb at the same time. it feels peculiar; something like you’ve never felt before and it feels so fucking intense. touya rubs deep circles on your clit and you’re no longer able to hold in the moans from your lips and your eyes squeeze shut as the orgasm continues to build until it dramatically crashes down– your vision turns white at your foreign but mind blowing release. 

you erratically pant for air and your eyes flutter open again to realize that you just squirted. 

“that was so fucking hot.” he pulls out his fingers and slaps your pussy. you whine at how your cunt convulses from how empty it suddenly feels. “don’t worry, doll. i’m gonna give you something better.” he coos and gets back up on his feet.

your body is already limp from your release and you’re feeling light headed that you don’t even fight back when touya carries you over his shoulder and walks out from the kitchen. your eyes wander from door to door, thinking that he’s probably marching towards his room. 

but once you land on a familiar large and bouncy bed, eyes staring up to the familiar ceiling– you know something is terribly wrong. as if to reaffirm yourself, you turn your head to the side and you clearly see the picture of you and enji from the wedding ceremony on the vanity. there’s no doubt that touya has brought you to the very room where you share your nights together with your husband. 

your stomach churns once touya immediately hovers above your body and caging you in, a smug and devilish grin curves on his lips. 

“d-don’t do this, touya– ” you whimper, the restraints from your back making you uncomfortable as you try to move. 

“ah, ah.” he shushes you. “after i made you squirt on my face, of course i have to feel your pretty pussy around my cock. bet he never even made you squirt before.” he knows damn well it’s true because he sees the hesitation in your eyes before you look away in embarrassment. 

your bottom part is already bare and naked when he kicked off your jeans and panties before carrying you earlier and he kneels between your thighs to keep your legs spread. touya kisses you before you can even utter another word and he easily slides his tongue inside your mouth when you gasp in surprise. 

while his tongue is roaming around in your mouth, sucking on your tongue and making you pant for air, his hand snakes into your shirt to grab a handful of your breast. he starts to massage your mound, fingers slipping into your bra to rub your hardened nipple with his index and thumb. the kiss breaks as you mewl underneath him and he leans further down and attacks the soft flesh of your neck with his teeth.

“don’t– it’ll leave a mark.” you say between pants. 

touya pulls away to look at you. his turquoise eyes flash between amusement and bewilderment. “that’s the only thing you’re worried about?” he cackles. “not at the fact that another guy is gonna fuck you on your husband’s bed?”

your cheeks burn pink in shame when you realize that he’s right. you’re worried about the wrong thing. your mind fumbles to find the right words, to make it make sense when you’re also trying to reason with yourself in this compromising position. 

touya realizes the question strikes something in you from the perplexed look on your face and he finds great pleasure in it. your attention draws back to him as he suddenly lifts up your shirt, a brow raises when he notices you’re sporting a front clasp bra. you’re really making this easy for him, aren’t you? it’s almost like you’re asking for it. 

“then i’ll leave a mark where no one can see.” he suggests nonchalantly, reaching to unclasp your bra before your breasts pours out from the confinements. touya leans down to suck on one nipple while he flicks the other with his finger, sending waves of pleasure down to your core. you squeal at the sensitivity, thighs unable to press against each other for relief because his own legs keep you nice and open. 

touya continues to suck and nibble harshly on the skin of your breasts, still intent to leave bruising marks all over your chest while you try to shake him away. while the possibility of having marks on your neck is bad, having them on your breasts are even worse. should enji wants to fuck you tonight, would he let you keep a shirt on? would it seem weird? his orders are absolute and you always listened like a good girl but what if–

“you’ll be sore by tonight, i don’t think you can take another cock inside your slutty cunt.” as if he could read your mind, he interrupts your train of thoughts.

touya stands on his knees and a sense of pride washes over him as he takes in the view of littering bruises on your breasts and the flustered look on your face. he continues to take off his jeans and boxers down to his knees before kicking them off the bed. his hard cock finally getting an alleviation as it springs free from the restraints of his jeans for too long. 

the tip is already flushed with a bead of precum and you swallow heavily at the girth– it’s not as thick as enji’s but the length makes up for it. touya begins to line his cock with your entrance, mixing the pre from the tip with the juices from your sopping pussy. a soft whine finds its way past your lips as he rubs his tip through your folds and teases your neglected clit. 

“are you gonna let me fuck this pretty little pussy?” he nudges your clit as his cold gaze pierces through you. “on your husband’s bed?”

the reason touya never stops pointing it out is simply because he likes it. he gets off to the thought that he gets to fuck his dad’s hot wife on his own bed and especially when she is this submissive and vulnerable. above all, enji is his least favorite person in this world. 

you seem reluctant but there’s a brief glint of lust in your doe eyes and it makes his cock grow impossibly bigger. 

“if you’re not gonna answer me, i’ll just leave you like this until he comes home.” the threat masks his impatience. he can’t wait to fill you to the brim and make you cream all around his cock. 

you shake your head, “n-no, don’t! i– please...”

“please, what?” he snickers, slowly poking his tip just by the entrance before pulling out and it affects your body just as much as his. “tell me what you want.”

“please,” you purse your lips flat, bracing yourself before the next few words. “f-fuck me.” 

touya pushes your legs back to your chest before pulling you back down closer to him. a hiss slips out from his lips as he protrudes into your warm cunt– it’s everything he imagined it to be and you’re already sucking him in. you’re so perfect for him.

“so fucking tight,” he growls as he inches in deeper until he’s in balls deep while you squirm underneath him. “i don’t think he fucked you right.”

that’s wrong. in fact, your sex life has been fulfilling. enji can be rough but he can be gentle when you ask him to. the only extra points touya gets is the fact that he managed to make you squirt once and nothing more than that! hopefully.

the current position makes you put your weight on your back and it’s causing discomfort when you have your arms tied behind you but the moment touya starts to pound into your pussy, the ache suddenly becomes the least of your worries and is replaced by the feeling of being stuffed full by his cock. you can feel the popping vein brushing against your walls each time he rams in. 

thanks to your dripping cunt, his pace is relentless and you quickly become nothing more than a moaning mess. 

“who’s fucking you– hah– this good?” he grunts, eyes watching you as your face contorts into a blissful expression with his every thrust. he smacks and bite your thigh roughly in an attempt to draw your attention to him. 

“y-you are!” you wail in a mixture of shame, pain and pleasure. 

“what’s my name, slut?” 

“t-touya!” the lack of resistance in your voice surprises not only you but also him.

he lets out a throaty chuckle, “don’t tell me you’re already dumb on my cock?” he rams deeper and you can feel the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix. “such a dirty whore.”

you find yourself not able to care about the crude names he’s throwing at you anymore. he’s right, you’re already drunk on his cock. touya rejoices in the sight before him and burns the image deep inside his memory. he wishes he could send a picture of you to his father, his mind already picturing the horrid look on his face and it serves as a fuel to the firing resentment inside him.

“you like me fucking you while your husband is out?” the thought of it is so revolting but it somehow makes your pussy throb. it’s as if there’s an ongoing war inside your head and your body seems to betray you.

he presses down on your clit and you feel your pussy clench tighter around his cock. the pressure that has been building overtime feels so tight and it’s threatening to snap. 

“ah– gonna cum!” you cry. you feel so close and your toes are already curled in anticipation for your next orgasm. 

but you’re suddenly pulled far away from your awaiting orgasm and you let out a pathetic whine when touya suddenly stops ramming his cock inside you. 

“if you’re gonna cum on my cock,” he grabs you firmly before rolling to the side so he’s laying on his back while you’re propped up above him with his cock still inside you. “then you gotta work for it.”

instinctively, your hips begin to roll desperately. you’re just so horny and so needy for his cock. 

“that’s a good slut.” he moans. his hands rests firmly on your hips to guide and help you from falling down as you wildly bounce on his cock. suddenly, the sound of a shredded fabric rings in your ears and you realize that touya has ripped off the shirt that you still had on earlier while your bra is already hanging loosely down your arms.

now everything is perfect. your back is arched and your amazing tits are bouncing up and down in front of him while you ride his cock in desperation to reach for your high. 

“tell me i fuck you better than your husband does.” he teases your clit with his thumb and your head lulls back from the intensity and tingling sensation in your core. 

you bite your lip so hard, it could draw blood. you don’t answer him but instead you try to grind closer and harder on his mere touch, your mouth agape as you whine like the bitch in heat you are.

“say it.” he presses his thumb harder but draws back immediately when your body starts to shake. you’re panting for air and the roll of your hips start to stutter though still aching for your release.

“t-touya, i want to–”

“then let me hear you fucking say it,” he smacks your thigh before gripping your hips to force you to stay completely still. “you had no problem screaming my name earlier.” he mocks, fingers digging into your flesh.

your slick is dripping down on his balls, your walls are already clenching on his cock and you’re just longing for some friction to fully push you over the edge. “you fuck me so much better than him, touya.”

“mmhmm,” he lets out a triumph sigh, guiding your hips to move agonizingly. “what else?”

what else? what else does he want you to say? your mind is already hazy with lust and the tight coil in your guts are begging to snap any time soon. 

“i-i want you so much! need your cock! want your cock to make me–  ah!” 

touya lifts up your hips slightly and slams deep inside your cunt. an overwhelming sensation aches deliciously in you core and it only grows more with every thrust. strings of curses escape from his lips and his fingers bury in so deep into your skin, you’re certain that it’s going to leave more marks on your body. 

his thrusts are so vicious and you can’t prop yourself up any longer and it results in you quickly melting down to his sweaty chest. his hands clutches the meat of your ass as he lifts up his hips higher and continuously rams inside your pussy while your hips buck to meet his thrusts. 

“ngh– fuck. right there!” you moan as your body quivers and there’s the presence of that intense feeling again. a feeling you can’t quite catch in the pits of your stomach but is begging to come out. with a snap of his hips and his teeth sinking on your shoulder, a potent wave of pleasure washes throughout your body and you could see stars. your hips shake brutally from the results of the impact and your mouth parts to a silent scream. 

your breathing turns inconsistent as you find solace in his rapid heartbeat. 

“you’re not lying, huh?” he muses. you look up at him meekly and confused but his eyes are concentrated where your bodies are joined together and he’s very pleased. “you really needed my cock to squirt.” 

the bed sheet is soaked now. the very bed where you and enji always cuddle up against each other and you ruined it. because of another man, and not just any man– has caused you to wreck it. 

“i’m not done with you yet.” touya pulls out his cock and pushes himself off of you so you’re laying weakly on your stomach. he positions behind you before lifting up your hips, forcing your back to arch and ass to perk while your cheek rests against the mattress. your body shivers as you feel his tongue licks a strip of your juices. a groan erupts from his throat as he mercilessly slides his cock inside your dripping cunny. you wail from the overstimulation but he pays no mind to it as he remains rutting his hips in pursuit of his own orgasm. 

“that’s it, doll. so– fucking good.” he breathes as he picks up his pace while you whimper underneath him. “you can take it, yeah.” you hope that he’s showing you concern but the tone of his voice implies that it’s a command rather than a question. 

the grasps on your hips are tighter each time he impales his cock inside you. his thrusts are so strong that you can feel your head getting closer to the headboard. the lecherous noises of skin slapping against each other reverberates throughout the huge room, almost loud enough to overpower both of your gasps and moans. 

“i’m gonna fill this slutty cunt with my cum,” he grunts, rutting his hips faster. “you want it, right? fuck– make you carry my children.” 

realization shoots through you and tears start to well in the corner of your eyes. “no, no. please, not inside!” 

his sporadic pace starts to falter before his cock twitches inside you and you feel warm, ropes of cum filling up inside you. touya breathes heavily and his semen drips along from your pussy as he pulls out his cock. he keeps your hips in place as he shoves back in the cum inside with his finger before untying your wrists and laying down next to you to catch his breath. 

“don’t worry your pretty head. the bastard will never find out.” he suddenly interrupts after a brief moment of silence. you both know what he’s going on about and it’s definitely not the bruises nor how messed up the bed is. 

“h-how?” 

“it’s gonna come out of you. he’s never gonna ask any questions.” 

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.