#I can feel it taking over my grubby little fingers

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Four

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Descriptions of past domestic violence, past abuse, past sexual assault, SANE exam. Death scene in relation to reader's job. Stalking. Feelings of fear and anxiety. Trauma. PTSD. Medical inaccuracies, hospitals, medical procedures, medications, nurse!reader. Comfort. Soft dads. Johnny is a shameless flirt.

“Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday sweet Penny-“ 

Their baby shrieks at the crest in the song, smile shoving her plump cheeks upwards, little fists banging on her highchair tray. She has no idea what’s going on, Johnny imagines, but he knows she’s excited that everyone is singing to her, looking at her, celebrating her. “happy birthday to you!” She swings a hand forward, plunging into the buttercream icing of the cupcake, fingers digging in as much as she can. Johnny can't help but give her the biggest kiss he can manage while trying to dodge the flying food, and Simon laughs over his shoulder. 

“Atta girl.” Simon encourages, trying to peel the wrapper so she can get more in her mouth, icing and cake all over his fingers now too, and Johnny wanders for a second, imagining something certainly not appropriate for their daughter’s first birthday. 

“Can’t believe your kid is a year old.” Kyle says from behind him, two beers in his hand. “Feels like yesterday you were even tellin’ us she existed.” 

“Time is movin’ too fast.” Johnny agrees, taking a long sip as Simon pulls Pen from the highchair, white and blue icing all over her face, arms, and hands. Kyle is right, it is hard to believe it’s been a year, hard to believe that their baby is already one, growing up right before their eyes, taking her first steps, saying her first words. He knows it won’t be long until she’s really talking, running, riding a bike, going to school… thoughts of the future forming a lump in the back of his throat that sticks like taffy. 

Simon steps into his orbit with Penny in his arms, keeping her turned outwards away from his body, half tilted to avoid the sticky smear of icing that’s painted all over her. 

“What is it?” he murmurs, leaning in to brush his lips against Johnny’s cheek, warm breath fanning over his skin. 

“Nothin’ ah-“ Penny babbles, head tipped back, gazing at him with wide, pretty eyes, and Johnny rubs a knuckle across her messy cheek. “she’s gettin’ so big. Feel like ‘m missing it, sometimes. Like I should be here.” Simon sighs. 

“Johnny-“ 

“I know, I know.” They made this decision, together. They chose what was best for their family, even though they both knew the distance, the time apart, would sting.  

“The option is always there if you want to swap. Though I think we both know you’d lose your head behind a desk.” He nods, but the longing lingers, and Simon reads him right through to his heart, like always. “After this next op, let’s sit down and talk about it. Maybe we can make some adjustments for next year.” 

“Ah love ye.” 

“I love you too.” He shifts Pen into his side, inclining his head towards her grubby hands. “Can you wash her up?” She reaches for him, trying to latch around his neck, and he rubs her back, cooing into her hair. 

“Whit happened to my precious bairn, eh? Where’d she go?” Pen giggles, fingers finding his nose, long strands of his hair with a tug, and he playfully lifts her, mouth against her tummy, blowing loud raspberries over her shirt that has her absolutely screaming with glee. 

“Da. Dadadada-“ she babbles at him. 

“C’mon wee lamb, let’s go get ye into some clean clothes.” 

There’s an envelope shoved under your front door.

The shitty carpet in the hallway is too high, threads jagged, so it sits a little crumpled, half wedged beneath the bottom and the floor.

It’s manilla. Letter sized. Stepping over it to get inside, you immediately notice the lack of postage. Or addressing. Or anything at all, that would signify that it had been delivered by proper authorities.

It’s from him. 

You know it is, even though you try to find any other rational reasoning, anything that could explain the mystery behind the envelope and how it got here.

You know. You know it’s probably a letter. Handwritten. Signed in perfect penmanship. You know it’s probably something foul, sick words twisted into terrifying sentences.

You kick it inside and let it sit there for a few minutes. You get changed, get into comfortable clothes, start your kettle. You wrap your sweater tight around your body and lean against your countertop, staring at the offensive tan-beige paper that lays in the middle of the floor.

It’s from him. 

He knows where you are. 

“That’s impossible.” You answer yourself aloud, fingers curled so tight into your palms that they make little crescent moon shapes in your skin.

Your illusion, delusion, of safety, anonymity, is easily washed away by the appearance of the envelope, and whatever lurks inside it.

It’s too soon. 

You didn’t make it.

It’s not a letter inside the envelope at all.

It’s a photo.

A photo of you, taken in harsh hospital lighting, dated over two years ago. It’s taken from the shoulders up, skin bare and exposed, fresh impact bruising around your neck, eye starting to swell, lip crusted with blood.

You remember this photo. You remember the awful experience of the SANE exam, the drive to the hospital that took over two hours because you had to go to another state, just in case.

You hadn’t changed. Hadn’t showered. Your white eyelet blouse, one of your favorites, was splattered red, bright ruby dried a dark wine by the time you pulled into the little county hospital.

You remember the way it felt, to have your clothes put in a bag. To be handled by gloved fingers, with care and attention. The same way you had done for others before that day, and since.

“What’s your name?” your nurse had asked you, so cautiously, so kind. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.” She tried to promise, but you knew the truth. There was nowhere you could run, not a single place you could hide, where a shadow wouldn’t find you.

The girl, the woman, in the photo is the same person that looks back at you in the mirror every day, except now she’s buried beneath layers and layers of function, schedule, consistency. She’s silenced by distraction. By work.

By fear.

You flip it over with trembling hands, looking for the note or signature you know will be there. Like a greedy, starved pig; he cannot help himself. 

Found you. 

Bile rockets up your esophagus and into your mouth. How long will he toy with you this time?

“Hey, you okay?” Nia asks, frowning at you from her locker.

“Yeah, just slept like shit.” You roll your shoulders, emphasizing the half-truth. You really did sleep poorly, fragments of nightmares keeping you suspended in twilight sleep, clips of memories morphed into the snapping. bloodied jaw of a monster who reared their head every time your REM cycle started, and it shows. In your face, your posture, your skin. You look awful, the only thing really holding you together the resolve you have to push through, to get it together, to leave the envelope and its contents behind in your mind. You’re safer inside these walls above anywhere else, that you know is true. Your safety. Your sanctuary. Nothing can hurt you here. “You know how it is.” You add, and she chuckles.

“Tell me about it. Thought I was going to love overnights, but the sleep schedule is brutal.”

“You get used to it.” You assure her, the two of you making your way down the hall to the pit, and she shrugs.

“If you say so.”

You stand outside of two sixty-eight for too long. People pass you in the hallway, eyes curious, and you pretend to scroll through the tablet, decidedly trying to distract yourself from the dread that’s gathered like a sailor’s knot in the pit of your stomach.

You’re a professional. This behavior is definitely unprofessional. Get yourself together. 

You try, filling your lungs with a deep breath, but you can’t shake the shame, the mortification that is curdling in your stomach at the idea of facing Simon and Johnny after the code black situation last week.

“Go sit with Johnny.”

“Ye’re shaking, pretty girl.”

Will they be angry that you were so rattled? Could they tell? 

Your watch alarm beeps, and you uncurl your spine.

Buck up. 

You’re both anxious, and relieved, that Johnny is asleep when you finally step inside. Simon sits in his usual spot, paperback book’s spine split in the palm of his hand, and at first… he doesn’t even look up. Not until you clear your throat, and he startles in the chair, eyes snapping up to find yours. “Hi.” He frowns.

“What day is it?”

“Uh, it’s Wednesday?”

“I thought you start your week on Thursdays.” That makes your eyebrows raise, uncontained surprise filtering through you. He knows your schedule? Butterflies thrash in your stomach at the notion, something hot flooding your veins as you blink at him.

“I’m on OT.” You drift towards the other side of the bed, eyeing Johnny’s monitor before lifting the blanket to peek at his elevated leg. “How is he?”

“Uncomfortable. The burn debridement has been… difficult.”  You chew on the inside of your cheek. They better not be letting Simon even stand outside and watch that through the window, you think. You’ll have to follow up with whoever is on days.

“Healing burns can be a long and painful process.” You tell him, pulling back the blanket a little further. “I’ll be quick, try to let him get enough sleep as possible.”

“He’ll be sad he missed you.” Simon answers, still watching your every movement, eyes dark and focused above the black cloth mask. The intensity in them catches you off guard when you meet his gaze, hair on the back of your neck standing up straight, and you swallow.

“Well, I’ll still be here in the morning when he wakes so…” you trail off awkwardly, choosing to direct your attention to the scaffolding that’s supporting his femur and hip, checking his sutures for any redness or swelling.

“Do you work a lot of overtime?” Simon asks at the same as he leans forward to brush a stray lock of hair from Johnny’s forehead. The touch is so tender, so gentle, it makes your heart bleed inside your chest, blood warming beneath your skin, captivating your attention until he’s tearing his eyes away from Johnny, and latching onto yours with an expectant expression.

“Oh. Um. Sometimes?”

“Seems like a lot.” He comments, words lazily pulled from his lips, his tone soft, nearly a whisper. “Must make it difficult to spend time with your family, or partner.”

“Oh, I don’t have one of… those.” You immediately refute, pulling up short before the word those, embarrassment making your nose burn. Why are you telling him this? Why are you announcing to a stranger that you’re practically a recluse loner? 

Simon’s head tilts, and he looks like he’s about to say something but your tablet chimes, insistent and loud, signaling a vitals issue in another room.

“E-excuse me.” You stumble, and he nods, turning his attention back towards Johnny.

One… two… three… four…One… two… three… four… One… two-

The count in your head is second nature at this point, turning over and over after four as your arms, back and core start to scream, your breaths coming in shorter. Where the fuck is he? 

The count continues to roll on, lactic acid building up through your muscles, and you take another deep breath, as much as you can manage. The pain is familiar, it’s necessary, it’s a part of your job, but today, it’s burrowing itself beneath your skull, tugging and tearing at the memories that you’ve buried deep.

Pain. Gnarled and knotted strands of associations pull free from the confines of compartmentalization, stretching out across the front of your mind.

One… two… three… four…

You think about the photo. About being on your back, in a bed like this, lost inside the maze of a panic attack while the NP took photos between your legs. While they swabbed for DNA inside of you, under your fingernails, in your mouth. It’s funny how certain things can stick with you, the sound of the plastic bag crinkling as your bloodied clothes were shoved inside, how you can’t sleep on your back now, the way you counted the ceiling tiles over and over that day. One… two… three… four…

“How long has it been?” Nia asks from the other side of the bed, hand steadily squeezing the bag at the correct rate, still watching the monitor like a hawk.

“At least ten minutes.” You glance at the shade pulled over the window, grateful you remembered when you came running in here, the patient’s family standing just outside the door, holding their breath, hoping you’re in here bringing their beloved granny back, when in reality, you’re just traumatizing her body. You’ve already broken one of her ribs, and you’re worried if you keep going, her sternum will fracture too. It’s not fair. “Where the fuck is he?” you hiss between breaths, anger starting to heat your skin, irritation clear in your tone. This isn’t even your patient. Lazy, slacker, pompous ass, where the fu-

“How long has it been?” The nervous voice just inside the door calls, and your head snaps up.

Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me. 

“Eleven minutes and twenty-two seconds. Where is Marshall?”

“He- he sent me.” You shake your head. Nia sighs.

“Have you pronounced before?”

“Um. No.”

“And where is Marshall?” You ask again, just to clarify, and the resident swallows.

“I uh, don’t know.” Normally, a resident’s first pronouncement would be supervised by their attending. But since this one’s attending is Marshall, a grade A prick that you can’t stand, it looks like he’ll be on his own.

“Great. Okay.” You take a huge breath, trying to flex your wrists without losing your position. “It’s been twelve minutes now, and no response. Do you want to check?” He nods, and you chew on the inside of your cheek when he doesn’t verbally respond. “I need you to say it out loud.”

“You can stop compressions.” You immediately wilt, stepping away from the side of the bed, the motion of Nia’s hand also slowing until it stops, and she slumps. Marshall’s resident physically checks for a pulse, listens for breath sounds and then finally, does a sternum rub, to no avail.

“Sh-should I…” they trail off, looking back down at the elderly woman in the bed. The deceased woman, whose family is waiting, desperately. You nod.

“Yes.” You tell the resident gently. You can tell he’s unsure, nervous even, and for a moment, you’re transported back to your first code, when you were a baby nurse, a terrified, bumbling mess that needed help, just like he does. And since Marshall is a piece of shit… “No pulse?” You ask, and they nod. “No breath sounds? No sound of a heartbeat?”

“None.” They answer you confidently, and you manage an encouraging smile.

“No response to painful stimuli, no reaction to the sternum rub?”

“Right. No.”

“Okay. So normally, you could also use a thumbnail to press into their nailbed, if you feel like you need it, if you’re not comfortable with the sternum rub, but-“

“No, no. I’m. Yeah. Okay.” They too, take a deep breath, and check their watch. “Time of d-death… twenty one forty five.”

“Great job.” You tell him, pulling the blanket back up around her shoulders. “Do you feel comfortable speaking with the family?” He blanches, and Nia’s work phone dings, signaling another patient’s needs. You sigh for the eightieth time tonight. “Okay. Come on, we’ll do it together.”

The supply closet welcomes you with open arms. It hides you in the low light of it’s forgotten space, and when you fall into the chair, your face drops into your palms, pressing so hard into them that you start to see stars. The curtain falls. The walls of your sanctuary start to feel frail. 

Found you, found you.

He found you. 

Get it together. Get yourself together. 

“Hey, there she is. Missed ye.” Johnny coos, eyes half shut, sleepy and sweet.

“Johnny.” Simon rumbles his name like a warning, one your patient doesn’t seem to heed, still blinking slowly at you with a sly look on his face.

“Had a dream about ye, pretty girl. Dreamt ye were at ho-“

“Alright.” Simon cuts him off, swiftly. Patients often have vivid, weird dreams when they’re all dosed up on medication, and it’s not the first time someone has slurred out some weird vision they’ve had of you in their sleep.

“Good morning to you too.” You quip, glancing at the catheter bag before putting your hands on your hips. “How are you feeling?”

“’m alright. Stomach hurts.” You frown.

“Can you tell me where the pain is?” He motions to his upper right, the area where his newly repaired liver is sitting, and you nod, pulling out your phone immediately to update his doctor. Could be nothing. Could be something. Not for you to determine, but you won’t let it go unnoticed, and you’ll make sure it’s top of mind during shift report. “Can I check your side?” You motion to where his burn is lightly wrapped, and he nods with a sheepish smile.

“Aye, sure can. Ye can take my clothes off anytime.” You roll your eyes, unbuttoning his gown at the shoulder, peeling the gauze away very slowly. The wound looks better than you were expecting, if you’re being honest, and it relieves some of the anxiety that curled up in the pit of your stomach after his admission of upper right quadrant pain. “Yer hands are warm, bun. Feels nice.” Bun? You opt to ignore it. Probably still a little floaty.

“Good, that’s… good. Better than them being icicles.” Your hand brushes across the center of his abdomen when you pull the rest of the dressing away, and he tenses, ab muscles becoming clearly defined, enough that you stall out for a second before turning away to grab fresh gauze for his wound care, hands just a little unsteady. “Oh, fuck.” You mutter when the pack slips, sliding halfway under the little table that’s along the wall, and you sigh, whirling away from both of them and bending at the waist to tiptoe your fingers across the floor until you feel the corner of crinkly plastic. “Gotcha!” When you straighten, turning back towards the bed, Johnny and Simon are staring at you, and there’s a glee filled smile on Johnny’s face, it’s presence both mischievous and beguiling, fingers of his good hand slowly rubbing circles into the inside of Simon’s forearm. “What?”

“Nothing. Ignore him.” Simon deadpans, and then shoots his partner a very serious look, one that nearly has you straightening like you’re in trouble.

“Ach.” Johnny huffs, stroking a gentle touch upwards across Simon’s jaw as you start to reapply his dressing, taking your time to ensure everything looks good and he’s comfortable. You smooth over it once you’re satisfied, checking for any precarious pieces of tape. “Ye take such good care o’ me.” Johnny murmurs, accent soft and scratchy. It’s decadent the way his voice sounds sometimes, enough to make your throat dry and the room feel too hot. “Got lucky, didnae we, Si?”

“Well, it’s m-my job.” You answer, trying not to look down at where his chest and stomach are still exposed, or get caught in the cerulean blue waves of his eyes. They’re such a stark contrast to the intense, velvety hue of Simon’s, the pointed focus of his gaze that’s able to stun you, throw you off kilter the same time Johnny’s makes you feel overheated, and lightheaded. Both of them together could drown you. Overwhelm you.

Balanced. A yin and a yang. 

Get it together. This is your patient and his partner, for gods sake. What is wrong with you? 

Something warms brushes along the skin of your knuckles, a fleeting touch, and when you look down, you see Johnny’s hand, two fingers barely stroking yours, the lightest touch catching your breath in your chest like time is slowing to a crawl, and you’re freezing along with it.

Everything goes quiet in your head.

Simon’s watching you, methodically studying you like he’s trying to decipher every twitch in your expression as Johnny’s fingertips move over your knuckles to the back of your hand, thumb slipping into your palm, blazing heat sparking beneath it.

What… what is happening? 

A phone vibrates. The noise snaps you free from your near statuesque state, and they both divert their attention to its screen. 

“They’re here.” Simon tells him, glancing at you before looking back to his partner. “Be good.” He warns, and Johnny rolls his eyes in response, but he looks almost… desperate now, eyes wide and anxious. 

“Hurry?” he asks, hopefully, Simon leaning down to press mask covered lips to his forehead, his eyes shuttering closed, deep breath passing between their two bodies.

“I’ll be right back.”

“I’m really concerned about the pain in his upper right quadrant. I already sent a text, but if his doctor isn’t on this floor in the next hour, page him again.” The dayshifter nods, tapping a note into her phone. “And Marshall’s resident is practically unsupervised, so keep an eye out.”

“Okay, sounds good.” You mention a few other things, details you noticed throughout your day, and she thanks you for the extra eye, sending you off with a parting wave into the cold, crisp morning, your mind already skipping over your commute to when you’ll be able to sink into your bed one last time.

You’re busy compiling a list as you wait for the elevator. Necessities, things you’ll need indefinitely as you bounce back and forth between a rotation of hotels and on-call rooms, all the usual stuff, clothes, toiletries, and all the important things that can’t be left behind, your birth certificate, passport, other things that could make or break you if lost.

Deep breath. You can do this. It’s not the first time. You’ve done it before, and you can do it again. 

The elevator dings. You take a step forward, not paying attention, and then pull up short when you see who’s getting out.

It’s Simon stepping towards you, with a baby girl in his arms. She’s situated on his hip, nestled into his side and for a second, you falter because… you recognize her. Or at least you think you do... she looks just like the little girl you saw last week.

“Um. Hi.” You blurt, failing to notice at first that he’s not alone, the man from the first night you met them, the one with the mustache standing behind the width of Simon’s body, his arm curled around the woman you saw last week. They step into view, and you give them all a polite smile, one you really hope doesn’t betray your confusion. 

“Hi,” he says your name next, says it so softly it feels tender, and then takes another step closer. “This is Penelope. Our daughter.” Oh. Oh.

They have a baby. A girl. They have a little girl. You don’t know why, but something inside you stumbles, melting into a frazzled, awkward mess, heart thumping in your chest. They have a baby, and Johnny almost died. They have a kid and he’s been trapped in this hospital, miserable in pain, missing his kid. “Pen, this is your Da’s favorite nurse.”

“Bunny.” The baby, Penelope, says, little finger stretching out towards your badge, which is facing outwards with the giant sparkly sticker. Simon chuckles, genuinely, masked lips pressing to her cheek, and you see a glimpse of a father, a protector, a provider. It makes you feel dizzy.

“We’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks, and you nod like a robot, unable to really form a word with your tongue. “Alright baby girl. Let’s go see your Da, yeah?”

[ultravioletrayz]

a request? what about your edging miguel and so you let him cum since he begging it however we continuing to do it? and so what about this but with cumplay ? you know,and he.....like into it,like you playing with he cum, on his body.thigh. abs, idk anywhere and just licking it idk?

so a kinda dom/sub!miguel x fem!reader

yea im crazy for a whiny men whos loves anything we do and espically whimper and beg

you with me girlie?

Yes yes yes, totally with you.

The plot for this was inspired by this ask, btw!!

@ce3stvu tagging my bby girl <3

Pairing: sub!miguel o’hara x dom!f!reader

Warnings: 18+, handjob, edging, cumplay, cum eating, dacryphillia if you squint, themes of jealousy

Summary: you remind miguel who he belongs to

A/N: i love dom!migs, but something about imagining that big man all whiny and crying is sooo hot

Word Count: 1K

It’s all that stupid bitch’s fault. The thought is swirling around in Miguel’s head on repeat as his hips pathetically twitch and spasm upwards to try and loosen the grip you have around the blushing tip of his cock. Still, you merely apply more pressure, squeezing his poor head so hard your fingers act as a makeshift cock ring, making it impossible for Miguel to acquire any sense of relief as your other hand fondles his heavy, aching balls with little skill, your only goal being to tease him. 

This was a much better way of reminding Miguel of your loyalty to one another than talking it out. Frankly, you didn’t even know how to approach discussing the topic. You were supposed to be Miguel’s angelic, bubbly little girlfriend. You didn’t want to cause a fight over some random spider-woman from work. 

Instead, you smile from ear to ear as you watch the beads of tears that cling to Miguel’s gorgeous, thick eyelashes as he sobs and begs to cum, after you’ve denied climax after climax with your possessive grip around the thick circumference of his dick. 

There’s no doubt in your mind that other spider-people can hear Miguel’s unapologetic whines from outside his office, and the thought makes your mind a hazy fog of lust and pride. Hopefully, that new girl that Miguel was training, the one that kept running her grubby hands all over his arms and back like you were an idiot and wouldn’t notice her blatant flirting. 

You had initially felt guilty when you pulled Miguel away from his sparring session with the girl, leading him to his office with one goal in mind: reiterating that Miguel is yours and yours alone.

But now that he's been forced into becoming this mess of desperation and sticky pre-cum, your worries and shame have vanished. Only your touch can make Miguel feel this way, making him lose all of his self-control and dignity. And he does the same thing to you. Sure, an outsider would probably say all of this jealousy and possessiveness is toxic or overbearing, but you and Miguel can't help but cling to one another. You're each other's soulmates. That new girl could never compare.

"Hah- ah, fuck! M-Mami, por favor… need- ah! need to cum. Please, please l-lemme cum-!" Miguel begs, his tear-stained cheek squished against the smooth material of your spider suit that conceals your tits, but the warmth of his face seeps through the fabric, his breath causing your nipples to perk up at the subtle contact as you lean over him and giggle. 

You keep your fingers squeezed around his tip, rubbing his swollen head in circular motions as your other hand cups his balls in the comfort of your palm. The tension around Miguel’s tip is almost torturous, making him curse and thrash around in his office chair as he desperately attempts to make your hand slip even slightly so that his dick can breathe again. 

The thick, chocolate-brown hair that adorns the tan flesh from his belly button down to his base caresses your forearm each time Miguel fails to push through the restraint of your fist and thrust into your closed hand. 

You feel bad for taking your insecurities out on your poor, unsuspecting boyfriend, who was just trying to be a good boss and do his job, so you decide to give him a break.

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me, guapo?" You coo teasingly, releasing the pressure around the leaky head of Miguel's cock and instead starting to pump his shaft, your pace fast and sloppy as you make up for the time spent prohibiting Miguel from having any kind of release. 

Miguel's climax hits him like a freight train, his back arching drastically and his claws digging into his seat as his rock-hard cock spurts bucket loads of cum up into the air, the gooey strands of his devotion to you hitting his toned abs and coating the hair on his thighs and stomach, creating a pooling mess of semen, sweat, and tears as he slumps back in his chair and splutters.

You watch with wide eyes as Miguel's cum decorates his tan skin, like an abstract painting of your composition. And you couldn't be more proud of yourself. In a hypnotised state of desire and devotion, you scramble to your knees in between Miguel's spread thighs. 

With a smile on your face, you lick a fat, sloppy stripe from Miguel's pelvis up to his juicy pecs, gathering his cum on your flat tongue and swallowing. He tastes divine.

No other bitch would treat him like this, using her hands and mouth to worship him like you do. You lap up every thick glob of shimmering cum from Miguel's panting body, not even able to savour it due to your desperation to taste all of him.

"You taste so good, Mig." You moan, eyes fluttering at the salty, decadent flavour of Miguel's cum flooding your senses. Your hand keeps pumping him slowly, milking every last drop of his delicious cum from his cock as you worship his body and devour his essence as it glistens on his stomach and thighs. 

Your free hand scoops up some of his mess to watch how the strings make your fingers stick together, before shoving your digits in your mouth and sucking the cum off your fingers. 

Miguel chuckles and moans at the sight of his pretty girl so desperate to please him, all to ensure his loyalty. The fact that you're more willing to drag your wet tongue up and down his cum-covered, shivering body than have a conversation about your feelings is a little odd, but Miguel's not complaining. It's sweet to see how much you love him, and how much you hate that new bitch for thinking she stands a chance against you.

Miguel holds your chin in his hands and stops you from feasting on any more of his cum, directing your gorgeous face upwards so that you're staring into his eyes. You rest your tacky hands on his thighs, making him tremble ever so slightly at the way your skin sticks to his, binding the two of you together. 

Breathlessly, Miguel whispers to you, his girl, his one and only, the love of his life, with a crooked smile on his sweaty, fucked-out face.

"Sólo para ti, hermosa."

sick and tired of miguel being depicted as the “jealous and possessive” one in the relationship. If I had a man like that, I’d be just as crazy

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Lack of Focus

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: Matt comforts you when your forgetfulness seems to be ruining your life.

warnings: swearing, weepy reader, period mentions, Matt being adorable, reader's no good very bad day

a/n: this is heavily inspired by my own life last month where my unknown disability gave me such intense brain fog on my period that I thought I’d somehow gotten brain damage.  Thankfully, it’s passed but what the FUCK y’all. That has never happened to me before and it was terrifying. So here is a little emotional hurt/comfort based on that! Also it takes place in the "In All the World" verse, but it can be read as a standalone. As always, please reply/reblog/DM me feedback!

w/c: 3.7k

Elbows planted firmly on your wobbly desk, you tried to ignore the way the large gouge on the left side dug into your exposed skin. You could feel the splintering fiberboard prickling your flesh, but you were too exhausted to adjust your posture. Your body felt heavy, as if you’d been transported to a different planet overnight and hadn’t quite adjusted to the intense gravitational force. Invisible strings attached to every cell that composed you, anchoring your movements to a far away point, making it difficult to even sit up straight.

Lifting your chin from atop your clammy hands, you strained to reach the coffee cup that you’d stupidly left on the far corner of the desktop. The minuscule weight of the mug made your hands shake, your strength sheerly depleted even though it was barely 8:30 in the morning. The watery coffee slid over your tongue, leaving the gritty residue of undissolved powdered creamer behind. You were used to crappy break room coffee, but it tasted especially bitter today, like a poor consolation prize for a contest you hadn’t entered.

In a word, you felt…groggy. Which made no sense, since you’d been sleeping ten or more hours a day the whole week—if you included your frequent naps. Your period-exhaustion and raging brain fog were apparently in cahoots this month.

The heat wasn’t helping either. New York was currently jumping between excessive, brutal sun and pouring rain. Each day felt like a Greek myth, Apollo and his father battling it out in a wretched display of strength, leaving you and the other mere mortals of Long Island to cope with the muggy weather until their spat was over. Walking through the streets felt more like swimming, given there was so much water vapor in the air you practically needed gills to process oxygen every time you stepped out of your apartment. Nearly suffocating on the 15 minute walk from your apartment to work surely wasn't helping your inability to think clearly.

With a massive sigh, you hauled another box of sheet music into your lap, thumbing through the pages of crumpled and coffee-stained paper. The district had been especially aggravating this summer, trying to appease the school board with promises of low budgets and high rates of success. As much as you’d love for that to be your reality, you had yet to decide on a starting piece for either of your choirs, and the fall musical was barely on your radar. Your mind was plodding through quicksand, grappling for steady ground. The last thing you needed was added pressure from a handful of men who refused to understand the importance of the arts, let alone your career.

Fingers rifling over the blurry text of one particular song selection, you paused, considering the technical skills you’d need to rebuild with your students after their summer break. Removing the pages from the box, you set it aside to ponder further, turning your attention back to the endless stacks. Before you could feel too proud, having stepped incrementally closer to actually  accomplishing something today, a shrill buzzing sounded from your desk. 

You jumped at the noise, losing your grip on the heavy box which toppled to the floor, spewing its contents across the grubby tile of your office. “Shit,” You cursed, snatching your phone up to answer it as you bent down to gather up the sea of scattered papers. The former organization system you’d meticulously sorted them into was nothing but a distant memory. Add it to the growing list of “to dos”, you thought miserably.

Swiping absently at the screen of your phone, you crammed it between your ear and your shoulder, trying to uncrumple the ancient cardboard box that had collapsed during the fall as you greeted whoever had disturbed you. “Hello?” Your tone was less than upbeat, and you could hear a small, slightly-miffed scoff across the line as the caller came to that realization as well.

“Hi, sweetheart. Is everything ok?” Your hands froze around fistfuls of paper, embarrassment clawing at your throat as you registered your boyfriend’s voice. 

“Hey, Matty. Yah, I’m fine. Sorry for sounding like..that. It’s been a tough morning.” You explained, messily gathering the papers into your lap as you fell into a criss-cross position on the floor. 

“I can tell,” Matt chuckled sympathetically. “Are you still coming?” 

Forehead scrunching with confusion, your brain valiantly attempted to decipher the question’s meaning before you eloquently asked for clarification.

“Huh?”

Staring at the walls of your office dumbfounded, your posture became less relaxed as Matt explained what he’d meant. “To the coffee shop? You promised to meet the three of us for breakfast.” 

“Oh god.” You absolutely had. Matt had been moping all week about his busy schedule and the resulting lack of time you’d spent together, so you’d readily agreed when he’d suggested coffee. He’d even been sweet enough to schedule it on the one day that you didn’t have any early meetings so you wouldn’t be too rushed after meeting him. “Oh Matt, I’m so sorry.”

“You forgot.” His response was patient, but even over the tinny speaker his hurt was obvious. Your eyes stung as you pictured his face falling, silently conveying your failure to his coworkers. 

“I’m so so sorry, I’ll be there as soon as I can. It’s the little cafe off of 7th and 42nd?” Clambering to your feet, your voice was slightly choked as your throat constricted—your disappointment and frustration squeezing it like a vice. 

“Hey, it’s ok, love. It’s almost 9:00, we have a meeting with a client in 45. If you’re all the way across town—“

“I’ll barely get to see you anyways.” You finished his thought, eyes falling shut as your hopes of not missing another activity were dashed. This wasn’t the first time this week something important had slipped your mind, despite being on your calendar. You’d already had to reschedule a dentist appointment, scramble home fifteen minutes late to meet with a student for a private lesson, and you’d filed the application for a grant three hours too late because you’d misread the instructions. The constant mistakes were quickly spiraling, leaving you to wallow in confusion and despair as your brain fog only grew. “I’m s—“

“Don’t apologize, sweet girl. It happens,” Matt reassured you. He was disappointed, you had no doubt about that, but he wasn’t angry. A wave of gratitude for Matt’s endless compassion crashed into you swiftly, nearly bringing you to your knees. Your tongue felt heavy, cheeks dampening as tears began to fall. “I was just worried something had happened. It slipped your mind?”

“I don’t know what’s up with me, Matt.” You whimpered, dropping heavily into your squeaky desk chair with a shaky exhale. “I know my mind has never been a ‘steel trap’ but..I’m starting to think something might be wrong.”

Your voice broke off on the admission. Bringing a knuckle to your mouth to bite down on, you refused to sob into Matt’s ear over the phone. He didn’t deserve that after you’d stood him up.

“I know. I’m sorry the past few weeks have been so hard. Do you have plans tonight?” Matt asked softly, voice laden with concern. Even through the phone, his voice bundled you up in a comforting warmth, a layer of protection between you and the world. He was eternally patient with you, loving you endlessly despite your recent bout of ditsy-ness.

“Not sure I’d remember if I did,” You chuckled humorlessly.

“That’s ok, sweetheart. Anything on your calendar?” Acknowledging your frustration, Matt tenderly redirected you—trying to keep your mind from wandering without blaming you for it. God, you loved him.  

“Let me check.” You sniffled, drawing the phone away from your temple so you could flick through your schedule. “Not after 4:00.”

“Ok well I should be done here around 6:00. I can come over for dinner, if you’d like.” Your lips formed a tiny smile at Matt’s loving persistence.

“Yes please. Can we meet at yours instead?”

“Of course! You can go straight to my loft after work, if you feel like it. You can use the spare I gave you.”

“Are you sure?” You suddenly felt a bit timid, being handed so much trust after letting everyone down for over a week.

“Absolutely, sweetheart. You know how much I enjoy you being there. Besides, I’ve missed you like crazy.” His voice was a rumble, making you feel far more loved than you thought you deserved at the moment.

“I miss you too, Matt. I wish my stupid brain would’ve remembered coffee so I could’ve seen you earlier.” Your vision shifted as saline flooded your waterline, tears wobbling as they fought to escape.

“I’ll just have to make it up to you tonight.” Matt purred, definitely waggling his eyebrows even though he was not in your line of sight.

Laughing in surprise, you felt heat rush to your face. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one that needs to be making it up to you.”

“Agree to disagree, sweetheart. We’re going to go open the office, but I’ll see you tonight. I love you.” He lingered over the last three words, tone dipping into pure reverence—the exact pitch that made your stomach flutter as he revealed just how much he cared about you.

“I love you too, Matt. Apologize to Foggy and Karen for me? Tell them I owe them at least three bagels a piece.”

“Three? That’s a pretty steep fee, love. I think I can talk ‘em down.”

Shaking your head with a giggle, you bit your lip. “Thank you for looking out for me, Matty. I hope you have a good day.”

“You too, angel. Call me if you need anything, ok? If I can’t talk right then, I’ll call back when I can. But I’m here if you need me.”

“Ok. Thank you.” Listening as the line disconnected, your heart clenched with disappointment as reality set in—you had an entire day of work to get through before you got to see your partner. Gaze dropping to the haphazard stacks of sheet music draped over your knees, you groaned, hefting them into your arms and dumping them on your desk to organize. Hopefully your sluggish mind could handle the repetitive task without too much issue.

Meandering up the stairs at a snail's pace, each bend of your knee took intense concentration. You were ready to keel over and pass out, letting the guilt and frustration and embarrassment that had amassed over the day fade into oblivion as if it had never happened.

After missing your morning coffee date, and ruining a week's worth of office organization, your day had not improved. Your murky brain had managed to sort the piles of sheet music into the correct songs, but it had taken every drop of your energy. In an effort to perk up before your hours of meetings, you'd thrown back a few more cups of coarse break room coffee—which tasted disgustingly similar to pond water as the day progressed. Each forced swallow stung with the reminder that your forgetfulness had cost you a decent latte and a much needed outing with your boyfriend.

Even four cups of the bog water masquerading as your beloved caffeinated drink couldn't solve your boredom when the administration started rambling on about test scores and parent satisfaction. Graph after graph flashed before your eyes, blending into a drab collage hung on the walls of your brain. When you hadn't shown enough enthusiasm for the new district mandates surrounding attendance and compulsory study hall, your principal had chewed you out—scolding you for not being a team player, for putting your own interests ahead of the success of your students. It took every ounce of resolve you could muster not to burst into tears right there at the conference table.

Finally, they'd dismissed you and you'd gathered your things to leave—only to be caught in a downpour on your walk to Matt's. Though your things were protected by the thick fabric of your messenger bag, you hadn't brought any form of poncho or jacket, so you were utterly soaked when you reached his building.

The fates were clearly determined to drag you down. And, given the exhaustion seeping out of your every pore and the harrowing tightness in your abdomen, you were ready to submit to their malevolent will. You wanted to curl up in a ball and hibernate for a week. If nothing would go right, what was the point of squandering your energy day in and day out to achieve mediocrity?

Bottom lip trembling as tears rolled down your cheeks, you stumbled across the landing to Matt's door—sticking your spare key into the lock and wiggling it. The damn thing didn't budge.

”C'mon!“ You muttered, fresh tears beading in the corners of your eyes as you jiggled the key furiously. ”Open you stupid—“ As you pushed at the small piece of brass with your fingers, it slipped from your grip, your hand smacking against the door frame with the residual energy.

A sob escaped you, your frustration boiling over when your psyche was presented with another obstacle. Yanking the key out and dropping it to the floor, you slid down, back against the cool wood, your sopping jeans squelching as they hit the floor. With a heaving breath, you brought your shaking hands up to your face, trying to soothe your frazzled heart before deciding your next move.

Inhale for 7. Out for 11. Just like you told your kids when they got jittery on the night of a big performance. It wouldn't fix your mood, but it could help you get a grip.

Staring down at the offending hunk of metal on the carpet, your brain flickered with realization. It wasn't the right key. Your own apartment key and Matt's were the same color because you'd made copies together, but the bows were shaped differently. The key to your apartment had a rounded head, while the spare to Matt's had a pointed one. He'd suggested the difference in design to help him keep the two separate.

Heat creeping up your neck, you shoved the damn thing back in your pocket, pulling out your lanyard and singling out the correct key in the line up. 

Your legs shook tremendously as you clambered to your feet, barely functioning enough to keep you upright as you hauled yourself into Matt's apartment. With every step into the loft, your soggy flats squished with your weight, surely leaving a trail of sweat and rainwater behind you. Dropping your bag against the wall where it wouldn’t be a tripping-hazard for your boyfriend, you scrubbed at your clammy cheeks with a fist, padding into the bedroom.

It was quiet, beyond the sliding door. The brick walls and insulation muffling the New York ambiance into a gentle hum, barely noticeable over the buzz of the central AC. A soft, manufactured breeze whirled around you, raising the hair along your limbs. Your damp clothes did nothing to protect you from the temperature change, the frigid air sliding right through them, latching on to the thin layer of moisture against your skin.

With numb fingers, you fumbled for the buttons on the back of your top, ripping off your drenched blouse and replacing it with one of Matt's warm hoodies. As soon as you had shoved your arms into the garment, your discomfort began to fade away. It smelled distinctly of Matt, rather than the stale stench of wet cotton you'd been carrying around. Unzipping your pants, you stripped out of those as well, replacing your underwear with a pair of clean boxers. Mental breakdown stalled for now, you lifted the comforter strewn across the familiar mattress and sunk into the silk sheets with a fatigued exhale.

You were out like a light.

Matt’s lips quirked up at the sound of rustling sheets, his fingers still tapping away on his laptop. Momentarily pausing, he tuned in to your vitals, listening carefully as you roused. Your heart rate picked up, an almost imperceptible sigh leaving you as you wriggled about in his bed.

With a pitiful groan, you untangled yourself from a cocoon of his sheets, ambling out of his bedroom on heavy feet. He was pretty sure you thought you were alone–the tiny gasp as you opened his bedroom door confirming his suspicions.

“Matty?” Your lilted voice was dipped in precarious optimism. Baring your teeth with the tiniest smile, you readily accepted his lifted arm as an invitation to snuggle in beside him on the couch. Setting his laptop and headphones aside, Matt engulfed you with his arms, grinning into your hair as you went limp against his chest with a pleased hum.

“Hi, sleepyhead. Did you have a good nap?” You pouted at his teasing comment, grumbling against his chest. He chuckled, cradling the back of your head so he could plant a kiss on your crown. “I'm not judging you, pretty girl. I'm glad you got some rest. Seems like you had a bad day.”

“How did you know?” You mumbled, rubbing at your eyes as Matt adjusted until you lay steadily across his lap.

“You missed breakfast and you hate the school's coffee, your clothes in my hamper are drenched, and I ran into Mrs. Gomez who warned me of an amateur burglar outside my apartment earlier.” There was a soft slap of skin against skin as you dropped your head into your hands with a moan.

“I was hoping I wouldn't have to relive that particular detail.”

“Sweetheart, if you wanted to spend time with me, you could have stopped by the office. No need to commit a petty crime to get my undivided attention.”

“Ma-att” You groaned, jabbing him weakly in the stomach with a knuckle.

“I mean, I'm sure Foggy would agree to take your case, but seriously it would save a lot of paper if you–” He broke off into a genuine laugh when you shoved off the couch, pouting profusely he was sure. Chasing after you with ease, he caught you by an elbow, angling you back towards him so he could gently kiss your lips. “Sorry, sweetheart. But the image of you trying to break in was too adorable to let slide.”

“That's mean, Matt. Kicking your girlfriend when she's down. Bullying.” You glowered, your arms loosening from their tight cross over your chest as he peppered your head with soft kisses.

“Mmm you're right,” Matt murmured, lips brushing over the bridge of your nose. “I'm sorry to bring it up. Do I need to worry about any broken locks or windows?”

He could practically hear your exaggerated eye roll. “I didn't break anything. I have a key.”  You grumbled, not seeing the humor in the experience.

“What happened, angel? Did you leave it at work?” His question was genuine, but his teasing smirk seemed to push you over the edge.

Tears pooled in your eyes as your chin dropped to your chest with embarrassment. “It just took me a few tries to open the door. I did manage to remember the one thing I needed to get into your apartment.”

You didn't mean for the comment to sound so snarky, but you weren't really in the mood to be picked on. Matt's banter usually cheered you up, enticing you into joking right back with him. Today, though? The idea that Matt expected you to have forgotten another important thing was far too realistic to be humorous.

“Hey,” Matt tutted sympathetically, his amused grin morphing into a slight frown while his brow furrowed with concern. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to upset you.”

“I'm not being oblivious on purpose, Matt. I don't know why I'm like this right now.” You sniffled, hastily wiping away the tracks of moisture forming on your cheeks.

“I know, sweets. I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to poke fun.” Swaying you from side to side as if he was comforting a fussy infant, Matt stroked your scalp as he shushed you. It would've been easy to see the change in his behavior as offensive, but Matt's small repetitive movements and hushed tone were comforting, so you leaned into what he provided.

“I'm tired, Matt. I'm so tired and I'm trying so hard to remember everything but I..I can't.” Lips quivering, you squeezed your eyes shut as another wave of tears pooled in them.

“I know, love. I know you're trying.” Matt assured you, scooping you into his arms and settling back on the couch. “It's just been a bad week. It'll get better.”

“What if it doesn't? What if this is how I am now?” You worried aloud, the hormones clouding your brain triggering a fresh surge of anxiety.

“Then we'll deal with it.” Matt shrugged, speaking as if this was the only possible outcome.

“I love you.” You whispered, nudging your nose into the hinge of Matt's jaw. His throat rumbled under your cheek as he echoed your declaration.

“I love you too, angel. Always.”

“Even when I'm scatterbrained and overly emotional?” You asked timidly, your own discomfort with your unusual period symptoms skewing your expectations.

“Without a doubt, my love.” Matt craned his head to kiss your hairline, frowning as you shuddered into the touch. ”Still tired?“

You nodded against him with a frustrated sigh. “I don't know why, I feel like all I've done this week is sleep.”

“You had a tough day, sweetheart. That would wear me out too.” Matt reasoned, tugging a knit throw off the back of his couch and tucking it around you securely.

“But I want to spend time with you,” You groused, the edges of your words muzzy as sleep tugged at your consciousness.

“There’s plenty of time for us to spend together, ok? Just rest. I’ll wake you when food gets here.” 

“You ordered food?”

“I did,” Matt murmured. “I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten today, so I ordered Thai and pizza. Whatever we don’t eat tonight, you can take for lunch tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, Matty.” You whispered gratefully.

“Anytime, sweet girl. I love you.” Repositioning so you were sprawled against his chest, the two of you fully horizontal, Matt rubbed circles into your upper back, lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002

[moonywritez6]

Kinktober Day 9 Lactation (Reupload)

Character: Dad Mammon x Mom Reader 

Reader: Fem Reader!

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, small breeding kink, whiney Mammon, unprotected sex, harsh language, tit fucking, breast milk, pet names (Mamma, daddy, honey, etc.),

Wc: 3,298

A/n: Hello my sweets! Unfortunately, I got locked out of my old blog account, so I had to make a new one! So, chances of you having seen this before are high as it's on my old account! (I am so sad about it honestly). But I am going through all my old accounts posts and reuploading them here! I hope you can still enjoy my works!

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"Hey, now be gentle, S/n!" You whined, feeling your son's tiny teeth starting to nibble against your sore nipple, his bright and innocent eyes looking right up at you. You smile, letting out a small coo as you playfully boop his nose. "You're so lucky you have your daddy's eyes~ I can never stay mad at you~" You gushed, a giggle escaping when S/n reached one of his grubby little hands towards your finger, carefully gripping the digit between his chubby flesh. Your happy thoughts are stopped when a dark and menacing aura emerges from the other side of the baby. You let your eyes travel over to the pouting face of your loving and childish husband, who rocked back and forth in one of the rocking chairs as he quietly chewed on his thumb. 

"What's up with you? You're going to upset the baby." You grumble, giving your husband a slight glare as your son squirms in your arms. Mammon scoffs, turning his head away from you, the pout still evident on his face. "He's hogging you all to himself." He growls. It wasn't like Mammon hated his son.

On the contrary, he absolutely adored the little bundle that was a perfect mix between you and him. When you told him you were pregnant, he felt so much joy that he ran around the entire devildom, bragging to anyone he could while buying all sorts of baby items for boys and girls, not caring what it would be as long as it was healthy. However, there was one thing the avatar of greed failed to consider. Having to share his precious wife is the one thing his greedy mind could never handle. 

After hearing his words, you roll your eyes at such a childish reason for your husband's sour mood. "Honestly, Mammon, you're ridiculous!" You huffed before turning your attention back to your son, watching as his eyes slowly started to close, indicating that it was time for a nap. You let out a few small hums, allowing him to finish getting his fill for the day. On the other hand, Mammon stared deeply at your tired expression, the bags under your eyes becoming more noticeable by the day, along with your messy hair and baggy clothes. He didn't mind you not dressing up because it just meant that no other guy would be eyeing you with their lustful gazes. The demon's eyes soon fall on your breasts, having grown immensely since your pregnancy, each mound filled with your precious milk. Mammon recalls a conversation with his brother Beelzebub a few days ago.

______

The two watched you from across the living room, feeding your hungry son, who happily latched onto one of your swollen mounds. "I wonder how it tastes…" Beelzebub mumbled without thinking as he stared longingly at your form, a bit of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth, eyes hungrily taking in your exposed flesh. Mammon growled at his brother's words, shooting him a warning glare as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Watch it, Beel! I'll kill you, dammit." Your husband growled, feeling possessive of his human wife. Beelzebub puts a hand up in self-defense, his hungry gaze leaving you to look at his brother. "Sorry, I can't help myself." The avatar of gluttony mumbles his stomach, rumbling loudly, causing your baby to pull away with a loud cry. 

Mammon quickly looked your way, his eyes catching the brief glimpse of your exposed nipple. His pupils dilate when he takes in the perked nipple, the tiny bite marks from your son's incoming teeth engraved into the tender skin. To his dismay, you quickly cover up as you try to comfort your son while giving Beelzebub an understanding smile as the demon panics while trying to calm his nephew down. Your husband stood there, bangs falling in his face as he went and licked his lips, a new greedy thought appearing in his selfish mind. 

______

You let out a small sigh as you exit your son's room, Mammon close behind as he carefully shuts the door. "You look exhausted, mamma~" The demon cooed, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as he nuzzled into your neck, leaving a few tender kisses. You relax at the feeling, leaning closer into his chest as his hands carefully rub up and down your sides, a content hum leaving your lips. "I am tired. I love my cute little S/n, but he just won't sleep properly, not to mention he's been teething a lot more lately, so I haven't been able to feed him properly." You sigh, tossing your head to the side when you feel Mammon's tongue trail up your neck as he places a few kisses against your jaw. 

He lets out a slight hum at your words, raising a brow in curiosity as he looks up at you while resting his chin on your shoulder. "I have noticed the little rascal leaving more bite marks on me, but what do you mean you haven't been able to feed him properly?" His eyes trail down to the top of your low-cut shirt, your cleavage highly exposed as the shirt desperately clings to the flesh. Your husband enjoys the view as he backs his lower half away from you, feeling his pants getting tighter at the sight. You blush slightly while glancing in both directions of the hallway, causing the demon to grow even more curious at what you could say. You motion for him to come closer as you whisper in his ear. "Because of his teeth, it hurts too much when he's feeding, and I haven't had time to buy a pump yet." Your words cause Mammon to frown, not understanding what you meant. Seeing this, you bite your lip as you debate, telling your husband more before letting out a small sigh. "My breasts are full, and it's becoming painful, so I need to buy a pump to get the milk out and give it to S/n in a bottle." You mumbled, ears turning red from embarrassment. 

Mammon takes a second to process your words, his eyes going wide once everything clicks before a mischievous smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. "Oh? Is that right?" He teasingly sings, his hands slowly making their way up your torso. You give a silent nod, too embarrassed to say anything else. "My poor wife~" Mammon playfully cries before his hands lightly grope at your swollen breasts, earning a loud gasp from you, your smaller hands shooting up to push him away from the sensitive flesh. "M-Mammon! Stop it!" You hiss, shooting at him with a warning glare, to which he just smiles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He doesn't budge as he lightly massages your breasts in the hallway, not caring for anyone who could stumble upon his shameless act. 

You let out a small moan from your husband's movements before feeling your shirt dampen, causing your eyes to widen as you tried to push him away again. "Come on, if you don't stop, you will ruin my top!" You whined, trying to devise any excuse to escape the embarrassing position. Mammon's fingers came to a quick halt when they pressed against the now wet fabric, his eyes narrowing as he looked over your shoulder, seeing the two soaked spots where each nipple sat. "Y/n…is that what I think it is?" His tone is deep as he whispers into your ear, teeth lightly grazing the skin, sending a shiver throughout your body. He hums at your silence, his fingers teasingly pinching at the leaking buds, making your back arch as your knees give out. Mammon is quick to catch you, his arms wrapping around your waist. He lets out an amused chuckle that slightly echoes throughout the hall. 

"Let me help you out mamma~ Your husband has been feeling extra greedy lately~" He cooed before sweeping you up his legs and taking him as fast as they could to your shared bedroom. Once inside, the avatar of greed couldn't keep his hands off you as he sat you on the edge of the bed. "You're such a good mamma, baby~" He moaned as he slowly sucked on one of your clothed breasts, his tongue lightly tasting the milk that had seeped through. You whine at the sudden feeling, bringing a hand to your mouth to muffle your weak moans. Mammon sucks at the spot for a few more seconds before moving to the other, leaving darker wet spots. "Is this helping baby? Does it feel any better?" Your eyes soften at how sweet his tone is as you carefully caress the back of his head, earning a slight hum as he glances up at your lips, still sucking on the soaked fabric. 

"I don't like the feeling of the fabric." You confess, cheeks pink as you look into his eyes. He pulls away carefully, standing up from his kneeled position, body now looming over yours. "Raise your hands, baby." You do as told, hissing when he starts pulling the fabric off. He shushes you, giving a small kiss to your forehead before taking a step back, multicolor eyes taking in the sight of your swollen tits, a ball of saliva struggling to get down his throat as he tosses the shirt to the side. He caresses your cheek while lightly trailing his fingers across each mound. "Such a good wife just for me." He growls, loving how you were letting him toy with your chest as he goes and scoots you further onto the bed. Once he thought you were positioned far enough, he quickly pinned you, watching your breasts bounce around. 

Before you know it, he hungrily takes one into his mouth while one hand carefully squeezes at the other to relieve himself. You whimper at the sudden feeling as you grip the sheets. Mammon lets out a shaky moan when his mouth fills with the milk from your sensitive bud, his taste buds going insane over the new flavor. 'She was keeping this from me this whole time. What a naughty wife.' He thought, glancing up to see the cute face of his lover, all red, your lips slightly parted as shaky breaths filled his ears. He pulls away with a small pop, his tongue darting to lick at any leaked milk. "So tasty your milk is so fucking good, baby~" He moaned, cheeks flushed while caressing your cheek. 

"P-please suck on the other one…" You shyly pant, wanting the painful feeling to go away. Smiling at your request, Mammon hovers over your other mound, his mouth open as he carefully squeezes the flesh with one hand. You watch as the white liquid shoots out onto his tongue, causing your insides to feel warm as you lightly press your legs together. Mammon continues his assault on your tender flesh, unable to get enough of your sweet taste. "Fuck… can't wait to brag to Beel about your sweet tits." He growls against the flesh, his greed showing as he refuses to remove his lips when he feels your hand push at his head. You whine at the feeling of your breasts being toyed with as Mammon tries to suck them dry. "M-Mammon honey, you're doing too much! They're really sensitive." You whined, trying to pull your husband from his greed. 

Unfortunately, he was too far gone as he pulled away from your sore nipple, watching the swollen bud glisten with spit, his breathing heavy and eyes clouded with lust. "Hey baby…let me fuck them." He breathes as he pulls his pants and boxers down, revealing his erection dripping with precum. You look up at him in a daze, still trying to recover from the pleasure and relief your poor tits were experiencing all at once. "W-what?" You breathe, trying to prop yourself up with an elbow, only for your husband to push you back down, straddling your torso as he slowly pumps his cock. He looks at you hungrily while licking his lips, giving his stupid grin whenever he knows he will get what he wants no matter what. 

"Let me fuck your tits, babe; I wanna see just how swollen they are~" He sings while sliding his cock between your breasts, both hands squeezing the mounds together as he starts moving his hips, tossing his head back in pleasure. A shaky growl escapes his throat, followed by a loud laugh. "Fuck baby, your breasts are suffocating my cock~ Just look at it disappearing~" He moaned, completely taken over by lust as his thrusts started picking up. You whine, eyes watching as his leaking tip pokes out at your face, a line of precum beginning to provide a lubricant between your mounds. "Mm, that's right, mamma keep watching~ open that pretty mouth for me, yeah?" He growls, squeezing at your tits and watching them leak under his hands. "Fuck." He cursed, his eyes trailing to your pretty lips as he watched you slowly stick your tongue out to lick the tip as it poked back at you, earning a slight hiss from the demon. "Don't tease." He scolds a slight pout on his lips before bucking his hips forward, this time more aggressively as he goes and shoves his cock deep into your mouth, causing a small, muffled squeak to leave your lips. 

"That's right, baby…fuck so good. You're so fucking sexy." He whined while bringing a hand up to his mouth, licking at the milk, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, thrusts becoming sloppier. You just watched him as his cock slipped in and out of your mouth, your pussy dripping with arousal from this sudden change in your husband's behavior. Usually, he was never this horny in bed, but after having tasted the precious milk, his son had been hogging for the last few months, there was no stopping him. Mammon's chest heaves as he cups both your cheeks, a fucked-out expression on his face. "I'm gonna cum all over your sexy tits, my sexy wife~ So watch me, okay? Otherwise, I'll be so upset~" He whines, pulling his cock from your mouth to give it a few more pumps before biting his lip as his hips buck forward, white strands of semen spraying all over your messy breasts. 

Mammon sits there, eyes lidded as he looks down at you, his mind all fuzzy from having reached his release. You look up at him, eyes wide in awe as you take in the beautiful sight before you. "Mammon… you're so handsome." You whisper, unable to take your eyes off your demon husband as his chest rises and falls, mouth parted. He looks down at you, cheeks red and eyes practically hearts. "Hmm?~ I'm handsome, yeah?" He purrs, a hand sliding behind him as he reaches into your pants, his fingers instantly coming in contact with your slick eyes widening. He looked back to make sure he wasn't imagining it due to his fuzzy mind as he went and slipped a finger into your pussy with ease, the wet noises echoing throughout the room. 

"Fuck Y/n… you're so wet just from me sucking and fucking your tits? Have I been neglecting my beautiful wife?" He coos, slipping another finger inside, watching your expression change as you squirm under his weight. "N-No, just been so busy with S/n…ah~ that I just haven't had any time for t-this!" You cry, feeling Mammon's fingers curl inside, barely brushing against that spot he knows will drive you crazy. A pout falls on his face as he shakes his head, letting out a few disappointed tuts. "That's not good, baby! Why didn't you tell me I would've taken care of you sooner!" He scolded while pumping his half-hard cock, feeling himself more turned on the longer he stared at your cum covered tits. You whine as you try to arch yourself off the bed to no avail because your husband's weight is still on top of you. 

"M-mammon honey, please!" You beg, reaching a hand up to him, watching as he lightly bit a finger, his eyes locked with yours. "I-I want you deep inside me before it's too late!" You cry, tears forming in your eyes due to your desperation. Mammon smirks, quickly changing his position as he spreads your legs apart, watching your slick drip onto the sheets. "So, fucking filthy baby…just how I love you~" He chuckles before quickly slipping his cock into your needy pussy, watching as your back arched while you gripped the sheets, a loud moan leaving your lips. Mammon hums his hips, moving at an inhuman pace as he relishes in the pleasure of your walls squeezing around his aching length. "Fuck! Fuck so good, baby~ Your pussy is amazing!" He cries, his eyes landing back on your tits, watching them leak with each bounce. 

"So fucking sexy…just look at them leaking~" He laughs while wrapping an arm around your back, quickly lifting your upper half as he had you sit on his lap, hands grasping your hips so tight they'd leave bruises later. He hums, wrapping his lips around a sensitive mound, body shaking as he lets out multiple whines cock still pounding into your abused hole. "Want all of it… it's all mine, dammit!" The last part came out as a possessive growl as he lightly pulled the bud between his teeth, causing a small scream to leave your lips. "S-such a greedy demon…this is for S/n." You scold lightly, hitting him on the head. Mammon growls as he kisses your lips, his tongue invading every inch of your mouth. 

"That's right, I'm your greedy husband~ So. Fucking. Greedy!" He emphasizes the last three words, the feeling of his cock hitting the entrance to your womb each time. A few cries leave your lips as you sloppily kiss his neck, leaving minor bruises wherever possible. Mammon hums, his thrusts getting sloppy as he feels your walls clench around him. "Are you getting close, baby? Are you going to cum for the daddy of your baby?" He growls, his grip tightening as he gets ready to firmly press your hips down. He glances at your breasts, his cock twitching with excitement. "Fuck they bounce so good I just can't get enough!" He whined, leaving a few kisses on your lips, unable to handle anymore as he pushed deep inside you. "M-mammon! I'm gonna cum! Gonna cum from your cock so deep inside me!" You cry, wrapping your arms around his neck. Mammon smiles, loving how you cried out from his cock as he went to whisper in your ear. 

"Maybe I should make you pregnant again, huh? Keep your tits nice and full for daddy and the kids~" His words have you cumming, hard eyes rolling far back into your head as he shoots his release deep into your womb, letting out a pathetic whine as he kisses your breasts. 

"I'll make you a mama forever~"

_____

Mammon hummed happily as he rocked back and forth in the chair, his aura pure and blinding as he watched his beautiful wife feed their son. "S/n mamma, is such a wonderful woman, right?" He gushed to the baby, who looked at him with no thoughts behind those innocent eyes. You roll your eyes, a slight blush on your cheeks as you carefully fix your top when your son finishes his fill. "There, there S/n! Don't listen to daddy, he's an idiot!" You scold while patting your son's back, ready for him to burp. Mammon pouts at your words before his eyes land on your breasts; his mind starts to wander into dark territory before your son throwing up catches his ears. 

"DON'T WASTE IT!"

[wtfdemother]

Strawberries and Cream

CW: Day 1 of Kinktober 👻🤝 and i’m already late. nvm. Foodplay + cunnilingus + your boobs in his mouth. chubby!reader doesn’t shave, plus König likes rainforest pussy. divider by machveil 🫶 NSFW

What had gotten you out of the conversation that morning was you tossing the covers over your husband’s head before scurrying out the room, calling out for him as you dash down the stairs. Blinding him was the sole, full proof way of getting his grubby paws off of you so early in the morn’. “Breakfast will be done in 15 minutes!”

“What’s for breakfast?” Your big boy shouts from your shared room. Lazily König stretches while his lungs expand with renewed air, slowly exhaling out through his nose. A soft grin spread across his otherwise weary features, he let his arms sink to his side as he awaits your reply.

There was a pause, a long one with some odd shuffling coming from the kitchen, a nagging feeling crept its way into his head as to why you were taking your sweet time answering him and he began to worry. König opens his mouth to call out for you, but the light creaking of the floorboards settled his heart as you made your way up the stairs again, then his brows furrowed.

So soon? König wonders why he was hearing you coming back up the stairs when it hasn’t even been 5 minutes since you left. He quickly shrugs it off, deeming that maybe you’d forgotten something in your haste and simply came back to retrieve it.

“Meine liebling, haste du etwas vergessen?” His words come to die on his tongue when you turn the corner and enter with nothing on but black underwear with an intricate design and a can of whipped cream with strawberries in either hand. König got even more confused, but not necessarily in a bad way, more so along the lines of intrigued, aroused; possibly hungry.

You let your bra fall to the floor, “I was thinking for breakfast…how about me?”

While you answered his lingering question, it came out as more of a statement. The hissing air from the canister as you applied a healthy glob of whipped cream on both your bare tits fill the air, you clear your throat. “You wanna…?” You beckon him with a subtle tilt of your head, popping the tip of a strawberry into your mouth.

“Sit on my lap.”

His voice is hoarse and his accent heavy, almost coming out as a command. The sight of your perfect tits on display for him this morning, he thought he died and went to heaven. König pats a hefty thigh twice, the firm sound filling the silence as he gestured for you to come sit in his lap.

He’s met with your loving enthusiasm, letting out a squeal and a quick stim you toss the canister onto the bed and rush to your husband’s side, sending a wave of satisfaction coursing through König at the sight. Setting the strawberries to the side for now, you cradle your husband’s face to plant four little kisses: one on his nose, both his cheeks and finally his forehead. “I love it when you go along with one of my kooky ideas.”

König couldn’t help the smile, chuckling softly at your words. You’d think it was from pure affection if it wasn’t for that damn glint in his eye.

“So you had this planned all along?” He drawls out, gently freeing himself from your grasp to kiss down your neck, causing your breath to stagger and halt in your throat when you feel his fingers gently knead the ample fat of your ass.

“Call it spur of the moment…?” You choke out.

König grins against the warmth of your skin, finding your answer both adorable as well as very typical for the likes of you, his wife. He shook his head slightly, amused by the fact that not only were you trying to play it off as a spur of the moment thing, but you were being sneaky about your desires. How dare you. Luring him in with a cold treat when he would’ve sucked on your boobs if only you had asked.

He’d have to coax you out of your shyness somehow, one day. For now, König dipped his head lower and complied without pushing it, eating and sucking the cream right above your areola. Who was he to deny such a delicious snack when you presented yourself so perfectly?

The anticipation stirs something within you, a warmth like no other began pooling down to your core. Both are aware of your increasing heart rate, it only climbs up when you feel his lips latch onto your nipple, his mouth full of you, relishing the warm tongue swirling around the puffy morsel. A muffled sound escapes him, loving the sting at the back of his head as he feels you cling to the locks of his hair while his head is halfway buried into your cream covered tit.

“What’re you doing, big guy?” You huff out, dizzy already from getting your tits sucked. König's hands roam all over your body, his fingers deftly teasing the other nipple, causing your back to arch into his touch. “Tasting…” he mutters, his voice deep with need, and thick with lust. “And claiming…”

He proceeded to lick and suck at your sweetened nipple, his tongue tracing the outer line. “Und ich bin... bereite mich auf das Hauptgericht vor, meine Liebe.” His lips met with yours, a kiss that traveled up your spine and down your cunt, making the sticky situation you had going on even messier when his hands roughly gripped at your hips, pulling you even further into his lap.

A low growl emits deep within his chest now that your clothed cunt was sitting nicely on his erection. “For you, Liebchen, are the most delectable dish I've ever had the pleasure of tasting.” He snatched the canister previously discarded on the bed, pinning you down with a large hand pressing down gently on your sternum. He shook the can and sprayed a line of whipped cream down your torso, stopping at the curve of your fuzzy mound.

“Now, I must taste the fruit,” a naughty grin spread across his face as you watch him sink to his knees, first nibbling and licking at the strawberry you’d offered with a trembling hand before he shoved it back into your mouth to muffle your moans.

“Quiet down, taube.” His hands roved over thick thighs, the playful act a prelude to a renewed desire. He delves into your folds like a starved man, the sound of lewd smacking fills the room. He swirls his tongue around your swollen bud, pulling back to give it a little kiss before diving back in. Your legs twitch, your face feels hot, feeling the tip of your husband’s calloused finger tease your crying entrance, circling around the tight hole but never going inside and curling up against that spongy spot that made you cum.

“Meine Liebchen,” König groaned, a note of urgency in his voice, “I need you.” Almost like a plea, his words muffled by your pussy. “Please… I need to taste you more.” His voice comes out slurred, the vibrations from his throat push you further to the edge. “Cum on my tongue, baby. I need you to cum before I enter you, please…”

König's lips wrapped around your throbbing nub, his tongue teasing your sensitivity mercilessly, "Cum for me, liebling," he growled, the sound reverberating against your slick folds anew, your orgasm impending. “Cum, baby… I can feel you, you’re so close…”

You white knuckle his hair as you come undone under his tongue, crying out his name from the toe curling orgasm. He drank in your essence, swallowing your release, the warmth of his lips and tongue lingering.

König licked his lips, revelling in the quivering mess he left behind. He helped you ride out your high, once finally subsided, panting, he rose, capturing your mouth with his. “Für dich, meine Frau…I am no longer a Commander, no longer a Colonel, no longer even your König.”

Your partner continued to whisper his truth against your sweltering skin, his leaky cock seeking entry into your welcoming heat. “I am simply… yours.”

Slowly, deliberately, König sheaths himself within your searing warmth, rocking his hips slowly until you both come undone in each other’s arms.

[bokutosbiceps]

sakura blossoms (pt 1)

monkey d luffy x afab!reader | fluff | ~875 words

warnings: mild cursing, otherwise none !!

a/n: this is smth super different from what i usually write but i’ve been listening to this song for a while during my downtime + this came to my mind !! i wrote this in one go + i’d be down to do a pt 2 if y’all like it !! lemme know 😁

click here for pt 2 !!

click here for pt 3 !!

18+ MDNI

luffy sinks his teeth into the pork chop in his fist, squeezing his eyes shut in pure ecstasy as he rips the meat from the bone. 

“so good!” chunks of meat fly out of luffy’s mouth and onto his surrounding nakama, earning disgusted groans and gags from them.

“luffy, we're in a traditional theater. can you have some class? the show’s about to start!” nami scolds, pinching luffy’s ear. he whines but continues to bite into his pork, carefree and happy in this moment with his food.

“oy, and you better keep it down.” sanji says in a low voice, looking pointedly into luffy’s eyes. “there's supposed to be a beautiful woman, the best singer in wano, singing just for us tonight.”

luffy decides to ignore the snide remarks from sanji and nami and continue to stuff his face with the finest foods in wano. food that he'd earned by defeating kaido and freeing a whole country.

luffy couldn't care less about being an honored guest at some traditional theater. as long as there's good, unlimited food, he was there. honored or not.

why shouldn't he enjoy his food as loudly as he wants to? who cares if some lady is gonna sing?

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

you wring your hands and wipe them against your kimono, praying the sweat away from your palms. you're nervous, of course, you're going to be singing in the banquet honoring the pirates who had saved your country! why wouldn't you be nervous?

robin, one of the girls you'd received etiquette lessons with, happened to be one of those pirates and happened to be in attendance tonight. remembering this made you relax; robin was such a calm and compassionate woman, and she'd always encouraged you in continuing your singing career. pirate or not, she was a great friend.

and princess hiyori, or komurasaki, as you had known her, would be on stage with you to play the shamisen. you had two amazing women supporting you, so you really had nothing to worry about.

polite spatterings of applause led you onto the stage, following you until you stood in front of where hiyori sat, her fingers poised over the strings of her instrument.

a voice from the stairs above the stage introduces you, and you can hear robin’s cheers above the crowd's welcome.

you got this, y/n-chan!

you take a couple of deep breaths and capture your composure, standing up straight and elongating your neck. your tongue darts out to moisten your lips, allowing them to stretch into a warm smile.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

luffy pauses his gluttony for a moment to watch you, this nervous little thing, walk across the stage. 

then he notices you straighten up, your lips bending into a calm smile, your eyebrows softening, and your neck craning so you can regard the crowd with your kind eyes.

a shy bud blossoms into a proud and confident flower right before his very eyes, and luffy feels his grip on his kebab stick loosen.

he swallows thickly. you're pretty.

and he could've sworn you just smiled at him. 

luffy immediately becomes aware of how he's sitting: leaning onto one of his elbows, one leg flexed with his foot on the ground and the other laying open against the tatami mat beneath him. 

he sits up, lightly placing the kebab on the table and rubbing his grubby, greasy hands on his kimono.

“you good?” zoro leans over and asks quietly. 

“yeah.” luffy clears his throat and realizes he's fidgeting. “yeah!” he says a bit too loudly, earning some shushes and fingers over lips from the crew.

zoro just nods and takes a swig from his fourth sake bottle of the night. he continues to watch his captain focus on the stage, on you.

seems like you caught his eye. zoro snickers to himself and leans back on his elbows, ready to hear what the greatest singer in all of wano has to offer.

hiyori begins to pluck her shamisen, encouraging you with a calm smile. you look up into the spotlight, taking a deep breath and opening your mouth.

luffy is hanging onto every single one of your movements, holding his breath so he can listen to you without obstruction or distraction.

sakura, sakura

(cherry blossoms, cherry blossoms)

yayoi no sora wa

(across the spring sky)

mi-watasu kagiri

(as far as the eye can see)

kasumi ka kumo ka

(is it mist, or clouds?)

nioi zo izuru

(fragrant in the air)

izaya izaya

(come now, come now)

mini yukan

(let's go and see them!)

luffy doesn't clap when you finish. he doesn't cheer with the rest of his crew, or the rest of the crowd, when you bow and wave politely at the audience before slowly walking off stage.

he's making his way down to the stage, eyes trained on you and desperate to not lose sight of you.

luffy feels himself walking faster and faster till he's running, shoulders jolting backward by the crowds of people beating past him to use the restroom or get refreshments before the rest of the show continues. 

then he's reaching out for you as he draws closer and closer, his heart lurching into his throat when he feels the fabric of your kimono sleeve between his fingertips.

taglist: not tagging anyone in this since it's a lil different from the stuff i usually write :3

[bloodiedrogue]

I saw requests are kind of opened and I have to ask for something with Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep (quite a mouthful, ain't he?)

Like, perhaps Gale and Tav just cooking together and Tara being around and just... a sweet domestic moment?

MEASURE WITH YOUR HEART

SUMMARY: Gale is horrified when you try to improve upon his family's recipe.

PAIRING: Gale Dekarios & Gender Neutral Reader

WORD COUNT: 592

WARNINGS: None unless you count going against the recipe book as sacrilegious or something.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I read domestic Gale and blacked out for a second. (Also unedited because I am lazy!)

MASTERLIST

-

You see a stray finger dip into the pot in front of you. There and gone in an instant, it makes you sigh and close your eyes, taking a moment to listen to the rapid footsteps of a grown man racing across the floor, followed by the screech of a nearby chair. 

“You know I’m fully capable of making dinner without a second opinion, right?”

Looking smugly towards the dinner table, you see Gale nonchalantly reading a book, his eyes flickering to meet your gaze as if he wasn’t just hovering at your side. “I never said that you couldn’t?” he says, pretending to be confused. 

“You didn’t have to. I see that grubby little fingerprint of yours in my soup.” 

While motioning towards your creation, Gale sighs and sets his book down, watching as you narrow your eyes, a soft pout pushing through your lips. 

Immediately, it forces him to push out his chair and move towards your frame, slotting himself against your back with a soft grin that presses against your cheek. “You’re imagining things, dear. I was merely reading my book over there the whole time.” 

You roll your eyes, feeling him grip your hips, pulling your attention away from the soup just long enough so that he can steal a kiss as well as dip his finger in all over again, causing you to scoff through a grin as he laughs.

“You wicked wizard. I should starve you.” 

He licks the tip of his finger, narrowing his eyes as he smacks together his lips. “Hm, is that coriander?” 

You open your mouth to respond but ultimately huff, shaking your head at your partner’s inability to relax in the kitchen. 

“Wouldn’t think to put coriander in it but—“

“You hate it.” 

“I don’t hate it.” 

“But you don’t like it.” 

Picking up your wooden spoon, you begin to stir your less-than-perfect soup to distract yourself; rolling your eyes as Gale begins to go on some long-winded discussion about the recipe you’re currently making. Telling you how, traditionally, it’s made with equal parts cumin and oregano and not bloody coriander because the combination of the two aforementioned spices is the reason the soup is so good in the first place. 

It makes you groan in response, prompting a chuckle to escape Tara as she rubs her fur against your leg.

“Ignore Mr. Dekarios,” she coos, pressing her head against your bare ankle. “He’s just not used to people fiddling with his mother’s recipes.” 

You bite back a smirk and look towards him, watching his brows push together in annoyance as he gently kicks Tara away, earning himself a loud hiss.  

“You’re well aware that this recipe has been in the Dekarios family for generations, right?” he says, jostling you about as he dodges one of Tara’s swipes. “It isn’t just my mother’s recipe. It is a tried and true tested piece of knowledge that has served only the best amongst my clan.” 

You can’t help but let out a dry laugh, craning your head back to rest against his shoulder, feeling his arms tighten around you. “That doesn’t mean it can’t be improved.”

Pinching your sides, he gives you a stern look. “But it does mean such a feat can be difficult.” 

“I’m sure it’s not that hard,” you argue then, planting a soft kiss to his neck before leaning forward again to reach for the spice rack, measuring out a few unlisted items with your heart as Gale watches in horror, trying his best to let you have this moment. 

[definitelynuwonhere]

“Lazy Weekend”

-I’ve been deprived of sleepy soft David. So I figured I’d take matters into my own grubby hands. Also I needed a warm-up after being off writing for awhile

ALSO TO THOSE WHO DROPPED REQUESTS LIKE WAAAY BACK, I’LL GET TO THOSE, I PROMISE, school has just been eating me alive, but rest assured, I’ll get em done…eventually

Anyway, I hope you like it. And if it’s shit, then it probably is cuz it’s been awhile.

———

It was an exhausting week to be Alpha, with the Pack getting booked more-and-more, along with having to navigate the whole Summit issues. This was the weekend he decided they’ll have a full day of relaxation. No work, no yard duty, and no unprompted calls from a certain Beta.

He had it all planned on his head, and by planned, he meant no advance planning, ‘he’d be going with the flow’. A thing he never does outside their bedroom endeavors, but he figured, why not branch out, give himself permission so let loose. But not after getting more shut eye. He let out a yawn, rolling over to wrap his arm around his mate when,

“Angel? What are you doing up..?” He asked, looking up at his mate trying to get out of bed.

“Oh! Morning Davey, I was gonna go for a run—" They paused, looking to see their fiancé’s strong arm wrap around their waist.

“Erm…David?”

“Don’t go. Stay in bed with me.” He mumbled, eyes still barely open.

His mate snickered, slipping their fingers into his hair, earning them a relaxed hum from the shifter.

“My my, how the tables have turned.” They sneered.

“Shut up..you know you want to. Now lay back down and cuddle with me.” He said in an irritated tone he failed to maintain. Letting out a relaxed sigh as he felt his angel’s arm around him.

“What’s got you in a cuddly mood, hm?” They asked, nuzzling to his side, fingers returning to his hair.

“Mm…You’re comfy, that’s why.” He replied, his eyes closed, but a very noticeable smirk on his lips, caught his mate’s attention. Angel saw it as an advantage to milk out just a little bit more David sappiness.

“Is that so? Well if it’s comfort you’re seeking, couldn’t you just, bundle up under the covers so I could still go out for my run?”

David scoffed, opening his eyes to meet their sly smirk. “Seriously?”

They shrugged, never losing that shit eating grin he knew all too well.

“Fine. I want you to stay because, it’s not same without your cuddles, and I wanted to have a lazy weekend, and I wanted to do that by having my arms wrapped around you, while getting a few more hours of shuteye.” He replied, nuzzling into the crook of their neck, taking in there scent.

“Was that enough of a reason to make you stay?” He asked, his warm breath on his mate’s skin causing the sensation he had hope for as they laid on top him.

They smirked, looking down at his half lidded gaze.

“How about you throw in a kiss, then I’ll consider.”

He laughed, his voice still hoarse from barely being awake.

“You’re such a fucking menace. Lean down here, asshole”

They pressed their lips against his, David’s arms wrapping around their waist as he kissed them, feeling the smirk still linger on his Angel’s lips. They pulled away, resting their forehead against his, “Snot.” He mumbled, eyes still tired but his lips forming a soft smile before pressing another quick kiss onto the tip of their nose.

“Now can we go back to sleep?” He asked, immediately yawning as he did, earning a chuckle from his mate.

“Yeah, you win, let’s go back to sleep.”

They laid back next to him, nuzzling into his chest as he wrapped his arms around them.

“Thank you, Angel. I love you.”

He whispered, closing his eyes and letting sleep take over.

[bettysupremacy]

omg what abt steve getting a crush on this more rebel, punk-like reader? usually sees her with a guitar or smoking out back somewhere, but he’s worried that he’s not “cool enough” to talk to her

maybe she comes in at the family video to rent a horror movie or something and he finally tries to start a conversation

ajdkdk sorry hope this isn’t too specific, have a great day!!!

hi aster!! thank you for the request it’s adorbs

Robin sits under the counter of family video sorting return movies into boxes.

It’s a perfectly tedious task that she doesn’t mind doing. In fact, she usually fights for it, leaving Steve to take her assortments and shelve them. Except today he forfeits his duties, opting to stand and complain. Loudly.

It’s not that Robins over it, but she’s over it.

“You don’t get it, Robs.” Steve eyes the front door morosely. “She’s so cool. She plays guitar.”

Robin laughs loudly, pulling Gremlins out of the kids box and into the horror box. “So do like, a gillion people, Steve.”

“But she’s good at at.”

Robin shrugs. He got her there.

“And she likes that one band.”

She nods. “Thank you for that.”

“You know which one I’m talking about.”

“Because you gave me so much to work with.”

He glares down, but she doesn’t see. “Long hair?”

“Kiss?”

“Long hair, no face paint.” He adds.

“Iron Maiden? Van Halen? Dokken? Metallica?”

“Metallica!” He nudges her with his foot excitedly.

“Well she likes all those bands.” She shrugs, kicking the loaded romance box away.

His head shakes. “Eddie got his grubby little hands on her.”

“Eddie is her brother, and liking the same bands as your sibling is normal.”

“Still.” He sighs.

His inability to talk to you haunts him. A painful reminder that he’s no longer king Steve.

The door chimes.

“Who is it?” Robin asks.

Steve kicks her, she punches him.

You walk in, destination in mind. He watches silently as you move to the horror section, smiling as he sees you mouth your ABC’s to find Friday the 13th.

You look exceptionally pretty today, he thinks. Black band tee, black skirt, black headband, you look like you’ve shopped in Eddie’s closet. Not that he’s complaining.

You hop up to the counter.

“That was quick.” Steve smiles as he scans the bar code with the little red light. He drops it to the counter when it beeps, typing into the new computer Keith ordered a week ago. “Friday the 13th?”

“Uh huh.” You smile. His knees buckle.

“It’s a great movie, you’ll love it.”

“I don’t know,” Your finger traces the wood countertop. “I’m easily spooked.”

He looks away from the computer, waiting for the receipt to print. “You watching it alone?”

“No,” You laugh. “Definitely not.”

“Oh,” He deflates. “With you’re boyfriend?”

Robin pinches his calf, he resists the urge to kick her again.

You laugh a little louder, a little sweeter. Steve finds the contrast of your look and the sound dizzying. “No, Steve, my brother.”

“Right.” His soft laugh is an air of relief. You roll your eyes, smile plastered onto your face you fear permanently.

“Yeah, Ed’s really tears up these horrors.”

“You look like you would too.” He puts the receipt in your bag. Dropping it to the counter with a soft thud.

“What does that mean?” Your head cocks.

“No I just.. you know- like..”

You laugh, and even though it’s at Steve’s expense, he hopes it’ll happen again. “I was kidding, Steve.”

“Oh,” he breathes, smile playing on his lips. He looks down at the counter. “That was mean.”

Your eyes crinkle. “I’m sorry”

“You don’t look too sorry.” He laughs, a little breathless.

“What can I do to apologize?”

His smile stutters. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

You look around the store and his mind wanders places he feels guilty for. “You wanna come watch it with us?”

You kick the wall softly, nervously. Robin can feel it.

“What?” This isn’t real.

“Yeah, come over tonight. We make popcorn, and he’s buying candy right now.” You search for his eyes now. “Please say yes it’s the least I could do for being so mean.”

“I don’t know.” He hands brace against the wooden counters, a gentle reminder that this is real. Like Robins pinch. “..Eddie would be okay with it?”

“You’re already friends with him, it’ll be perfect.” You grab your bag from the counter, the plastic loud as you wind it around your hand. “And then I’ll have someone to protect me.”

He hears Robin breathe out and dares a look under the counter. She’s grinning like a madman.

You don’t give him room to object, walking to the door and turning around when you hear the chime. “See you tonight. Bye Robin!”

Faint giggles are heard under the counter. Steve feels sick.

And then you walk out. Steve’s heart dragged along behind you.

Robin hops out of the counter. “You got a date, Steve!”

His shoulders droop. “With Eddie.”

“So what?” She claps his back “I doubt he’ll actually be there.”

“Yeah.” He breathes, “It’ll be fine.”

Robin nods once, walking into the back room. “And I’ve finished sorting. Have fun!”

[glittering-snowfall]

At the time even the film's creators seemed nervous about what they had created. Like, when Diablo Cody in defending the film's same-sex kiss talked about her intense female friendships, how she "wanted to sleep at my friend's house every night, I wanted to wear her clothes, we would talk on the phone until our ears ached." Yeah Diablo, I had that with some of my guy friends as a teenager too, it was called being gay. The article that quote is from still finds the time to chide Cody for not doing good feminist representation, though, and I guess that makes me somewhat sympathetic to Cody here. Did she know that culture was in fact going to be too dumb to get the way Jennifer is both a predator and victim, the way her love for Needy is at turns beautiful and toxic, the way expressions of queer desire get warped into complicated, problematic forms by a diseased culture?

The film is full of uncomfortable joke/horror ambiguities, which were at least grasped by some critics (the film did have a number of favorable reviews, though they couldn't compete with the horrible marketing). As far as I can tell, the developing blogosphere, on the other hand, understood none of this from the moment they got their grubby cheeto dust covered fingers on the script before the film's release. Diablo Cody had amassed a considerable loud hatedom at that point, of both the aforementioned cheeto boys and their female counterparts,  going apoplectic over the "fantasy" that "Diablo Cody is a magical snowflake who can spray her unique pixie dust on an otherwise conventional script and give it indie cred". Perhaps the film's obsession with female relationships characterized by violence, jealousy, and crab bucket behavior cut too close to home for such critics?

Or maybe they just genuinely hate Diablo Cody's "twee dialogue". You hear about this? Yeah, Diablo Cody writes twee dialogue. This mantra seems completely unassailable now, basically accepted by even her defenders. What's so god damn twee about it though? To be sure, I remember mentally grouping Juno in with Napoleon Dynamite and Little Miss Sunshine. Jennifer's Body reveals just how much "twee" is a function of the film in its totality, though. I mean, I feel like this should be obvious but the exaggerated quippy dialogue comes across a little differently in the context of a film featuring sexual assault, people being burned to death, ritual murder, demonic possession, and teenagers being sadistically eaten alive.

In that context her dialogue comes across more like a nightmare funhouse mirror version of Joss Whedon's now eye-rollingly ubiquitous quips. Whedon and his bazillion interchangeable hack studio vat clones never aspired for much actual wit beyond the "umm well THAT just happened". Cody's dialogue on the other hand is baroque, in love with weird wordplay and uncouth associations. Needy refers to Jennifer affectionately as "Vagisil". Jennifer, in a line that caught me totally off guard midway through taking a big sip of water, jeers that Needy needs to "Move-on dot org". Yeah, no man, you're right. This isn't how "real" teenagers talk. Also, Jennifer's not "really" possessed by a demon, it's a thing we call "Movie Magic".

Though, actually, it's not totally unreal. This baroque, warping dialogue feels now like how teens trash talk under ideal conditions: on the internet. This movie's dialogue is posting. Like Homestuck, the point is not to capture a literal representation but instead a vibe of the kind of unrestrained, often vulgar and offensive dialogue of teens shit talking each other over America Online Instant Messanger or replies to their friends' Xanga posts. It makes perfect sense that both Jennifer and the various Homestuck teens would call each other retards, for example. There's a real sense in the film of characters pushing boundaries, testing the limits of their ability to perform adulthood. It's not just an act in the sense that it's a movie you plodding dullards, but in the sense that these characters are performing their idea of maturity.

There's nothing of that performance when Jennifer, in the back of a van going who knows where, sobering up and getting a grip on her real situation, asks the members of the band Low Shoulder, "Are you guys rapists?"

The climactic flashback, late in the film, when we witness the band's brutal murder of Jennifer, still has plenty of quips, of course. It's just that now Jennifer's ability to perform any kind of mature confidence has been brutally ripped away by a bunch of third rate emo douchebags. All the quipping, over top of her desperate pleading for her life, issues from the douchebags, who treat the whole scene as a joke. The affect of this scene feels complex to me. It's still Diablo Cody's script so there's some pretty good one liners. Megan Fox, though, is playing the scene for pure horror, so the humor adds to the horror for me. For these guys, rape and murder is just, like, kind of a fun night out. They can sing pop songs while ramming a bowie knife ("Bowie! Nice!") into a teenage girl's body because their biggest concern is whether or not they can get their shit band on Letterman. 

I think it's notable that for a solid number of people--particularly though by no means exclusively women--this scene is not damaged in its horror by this dissonance. At least not now. And why should it be? Horror has never just been about what's "scary" or worse about startling people with jump scares. Horror has always partaken of a complex mix of affects: fear and visceral startlement, yes, but also grief, shock, disgust, rage, contempt... attraction... humor. The best horror might fuck with the viewer's head, prompting arousal or humor simultaneous with disgust or fear. Why play these things off each other? Maybe to destabilize us. If we feel a moment during Jennifer's brutal murder where we're just a little bit charmed by these self admittedly cute boys, maybe that prompts a question like: what other monsters might be hiding behind charming façades?

The post-9/11 years and incipient Obama cultural revolution were unfortunately for Jennifer's Body a time for dumb affects. We pretended Rudy Giuliani hadn't spent several years turning NYC into a characterless, facile police state before bungling the 9/11 disaster response. Clear Channel, now the insipidly named "iHeartRadio," banned numerous songs for fear of causing even a shred of offense. The FCC got more censorious, waving its own dick around to far more culturally degenerate effect than any superbowl nip slips. Even researching this period is tedious: the articles I access are full of euphemistic phrases ("Mr. Bush was caught on videotape last July using a common vulgarity that the commission finds objectionable") so tortured they could have been dreamed up by the Bush admin's army of Eichmanns. I did discover that the maximum penalty for saying "fuck" went under Bush from a draconian $32,500 to a wild-eyed spittle-mouthed $325,000. People who objected to the dogshit state of culture and politics were drummed out of society, as The Dixie Chicks were. Or, more commonly, folks sorta slipped out of the public eye after getting played off at awards ceremonies, quietly shelved.

The primary objection to all this unfortunately did not come from anything really resembling a left but libertarians, constitutional bill of rights fetishists, and South Park. Democrats, never willing to lose an opportunity to supplicate themselves in spineless nematoad subservience to reactionary forces, attacked the Bush FCC for not fining stations MORE for Janet Jackson's sexual harassment by Justin Timberlake. Cool!

I wanted to talk about how this extended into the Obama years but here's the weird and ominous thing: a lot of the statistics and research material on the FCC's censorship actions just sorta stop in 2006. A lot of the relevant links from the FCC's own website are dead now. I doubt that means things improved under Obama. I mean, why should the FCC have stopped fining people for saying "dickhole"? It's not like any of the natsec state's border wars ceased, or the detaining of people without trial in the torture pits of Guantanamo, or the deportation of migrants, or the wiretapping of civilians. The prosecution of whistleblowers actually increased drastically under Obama, as did the lobbing of drones at wedding parties.

We bore this because Obama offered an alternative to divisiveness and the stale politics of the Bush era. We didn't have to tear down and dismantle what the Neoconservatives and Bible-brandishing Evangelical cultists had built through rancor and strife, we simply had to present a different way. A way that would unite the country. A way of hope. THROUGH THE TREEEES I WILL FIIIIIND YOU I WILL HEEEEAL THE RUINS LEFT INSIIIIIDE YOU

Now Needy's increasingly frantic sense that something is very wrong and all the memorial rallies and posters in the world can't fix it resonate pretty strongly with me. And, of course, after watching Low Shoulder brutally murder a teenage girl the whole grief and recovery (with a hit song!) thing feels like a cathartic confirmation of what I felt a lot during this period: that all sorts of cynical fucks were exploiting tragedy to their own ends. It never seemed to be quite the right time to bring up how cloying and often disturbingly fascistic a lot of the Strong In The Face Of Tragedy pop culture was. It was either offensive to the victims of terrorism, or offensive to Our Troops, or, extremely conveniently, before the critique even had a chance to be levied it was suddenly old hat: the Village Voice sneeringly dismisses this film's "routine “risky” digs at 9/11 kitsch". It was hard to tell Republicans to go lick a d*ckh*le when President Obama was wearing flag lapels and having grotesquely performative "beer summits" to bring together a completely innocent black college professor with the racist pig that arrested him. You wanna talk kitsch? Obama was so fucking kitsch, homeskillet. Kitsch and twee to a degree no Diablo Cody dialogue could ever sink.

Here's something that's not kitsch or twee: Needy finding the sacrificial knife that stole her friend/love interest, and using it and inherited succubus powers to murder the shit out of every member of Low Shoulder. That's cathartic as hell. I said earlier that no one in this film really deserves what happens to them. Low Shoulder are the exception, and it's so satisfying to see that knife buried to the hilt in the lead singer's shitty torso.

from We Were Too Stupid for Jennifer's Body

[wizisbored]

wip wednesday sentences for 9th october

rabies time @eriquin, @zyrafowe-sny, @violet-prism-creatively, @somefishycat, @sourb0i,

@asha10100101010, @enigma-the-mysterious

As she does, Ballister drags a blanket from the practical nest she has on her bed and pulls it over her, giving her a little scratch on the nose for good measure.

“Just try to relax, okay?”

“...I’ll try.”

///

“Ah, shit-”

Ohly when Ballister wakes up does he realise that he fell asleep on Nimona’s bed. She’s lifting her cat-head off his chest - where she evidently somehow ended up asleep too - looking down in alarm at the dark patch of drool she’s left on his shirt.

“It’s alright, Nim,” he says, noting her wide eyes. “It didn’t get anywhere near my mouth, I’ll just have a shower and it’ll be fine.”

“You haven’t got any secret stomach wounds, then?”

“Not even one.”

With that, she hauls herself onto her paws. Ballister is nowhere near a cat expert - in fact, Nimona has probably skewed his knowledge there - but he doesn’t need to be to know that he’s looking at a pretty sick cat. He’s not sure how he ever slept with her feverishly hot body on him. Her head is hung low, breathing a little too heavy. As he watches, a shiver runs through her little body from nose to tail.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks tentatively.

“Shit.”

“You remember what happened last night?”

“I’m rabid, not drunk.”

“Fair point. But you seemed pretty… out of it.”

She sits down heavily. “I dunno, I just… I couldn’t sleep, and then suddenly it felt like the world was ending?"

eldrich madness @quietly-sleeping, @cataclysmic-writer, @post-and-out, @tamsinswriting, @oriharaizayadividesintoslytherin

“I know, Pumpkin,” he says quietly, lightly scratching the back of her head. “I think about it too, even if I don’t want to. Especially if I don’t want to.”

“Why don’t you want to?” she whimpers. “Don’t you want to know where she’s gone?!”

“I do. Of course I do, Lydia, that’s why I can’t think about it, because I know I won’t remember.”

Lydia shakes her head hard. “No. No, we have to remember. There has to be a way to remember.”

“Lydia-”

“You have to help me. You’re the only one who can help me, please.”

She grabs at his shirt, tears welling in her eyes. Charles keeps combing his fingers through her hair. He’s thinking about it again. It’s impossible not to.

blood red @whimsicalmeerkat, @kallisto-k, @enigma-the-mysterious, @stonemaskedtaliesin

“Yes! I never asked for this, you know. I bought a standard, no-funny-business horse. I didn’t want a traveling companion!”

“Yeah- Well- That’s just how it is, sometimes! Sometimes you buy a horse and it turns out it’s not a horse! It happens!”

“No it does not! Horses are horses! It’s not normal to try to buy one and end up with some- some grubby, ugly little freak.”

Nimona is on her feet before she knows it, throwing the grass to the ground. “Some what?”

“You heard me,” the woman says, unimpressed. “You know. So stop being a brat and just listen - we’re gonna get out of this goddamn desert, and then you’re gonna let me sell you on as a horse to make back what I paid. Stay with whoever buys you, sneak off, I don’t care."

nimona centaur au @auburnlaughter, @creative-girl

“Nimona, I’d like to propose a truce.”

She pulls out one of her earbuds. “Whazzat?”

“A truce.”

Nimona raises an eyebrow. “What’re your terms?” she asks suspiciously.“That the dormitory building is declared an armistice zone. We don’t fight in here, the washroom, the dining hall, any of that. That’s all.”

laboratory four @sourb0i, @kalira, @adhdavinci

Eventually, Henry Hidgens must have decided that he’s cooled off long enough, and therefore Emma’s had long enough too. As soon as he opens the door to the lab the energy of the room shifts - a sudden sense of dread. Emma’s eyes are locked on him as he approaches the cage.

“You were sick,” he says, when he notices the blue sludge.

“I’m stressed.”

“Hm.” He takes the phone from the worktop, not noticing that it's in a slightly different place than he left it. “Before I look at this, Emma, is there anything you’d like to admit?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Emma, this attitude is not going to help you.” He refocuses his attention on the phone, tapping in the passcode. Of course, she had to give him the code as soon as she set it, but this is the first time he’s used it.

sentences added to netherborne: 57

[new-berry]

Going to give one last shot at Spain three. But with INTENT. I have cleared my calendar. (Lads and leafs hitting dim form sort of clearing it for me)

NSFW not even the warning should be over the line. Please take that as a warning.

Frank Lampard / Rio Ferdinand

Non con and period disregard of consent. I’m not sure how else to phrase it? People used to talk right over the top of “no” all the time. Little bit of gaslighting?

This is former lovers and one lover completely ignores what the other person is saying. I feel like this was the blind “what the fuck is consent?” That was pretty common 25 or more-ish years ago when this was set.

More from Rio’s POV than the frank centric Spain one and two. And again: consent issues warning.

….

Something about being on holiday gives Rio vivid dreams. He’s not going to dream about trees, he’s going to dream about a jungle full of parrots and monkeys or whatever. Probably being here in Spain, it’s so fucking hot even the locals look fed up.

He’s dreamt about sex before. Someone sexy who’s not exactly faceless. Like the hot Spanish girl he was dancing with last night, yesterday? In his dream he can’t quite hang on to her face. There’s a hint of beer in his dream that he doesn’t remember on her, she had a slippery glossy mouth and tasted sweet. Strawberries on her mouth and orange juice on her tongue.

Rio’s name had sounded so good in her mouth “Reeee-oh.” A little breathless, he should have taken her home. He’s still turned on but the dream is fading, that weird moment between being asleep and awake. He feels weighed down and anchored in.

He’s nearly awake and tries to flip the stiffing blanket off but there’s a soft noise of protest and he’s awake then, properly, Pressed against and anchored down, his dick is hard even though he never got that far with her. A looming ache in his ass.

When his eyes slide open he looks down to Frank’s mouth around his cock. Fingers slippery as eels wedged inside him. His mouth is dry and he’s trying to blink himself awake. “Ohhh.” It comes out like the second part of his name in her mouth, high and breathless. But it’s Frank’s name that comes out next, and he looks up, big eyes looking bigger than usual, all pupil in the low light, eyelashes fluttering.

It’s too much instantly, from the thought of it in a dream to Frank sucking too hard, fingers beavering away between his legs, sliding two in, slithery wet digits in shallow, pressing down trying to find his prostate.

Frank yanks his mouth off, so fast there’s the burn of teeth and Rio gasps. “Yeah baby.” Frank says back. His voice is wrecked either from the too harsh weed they were all smoking or from sucking Rio’s cock like he’s going to find god if he keeps doing it.

There is no good way to move, Frank’s fingers just slot further into him when he moves his hips, and his brain is catching up with how close to coming his dick is, heart racing as much from being shocked awake as his impending orgasm.

Rio shoves at Frank’s shoulder and when he doesn’t move his forehead. Frank uses the hand that isn’t two knuckles deep in him to put Rio’s hand in his head. “You can pull baby.” He says. Rio shudders as much from the brief respite to Frank sucking too hard on the top of his cock , as from the warm night air cooling the spit left behind, as Frank calling him baby. It’s gross, sleazy what they calls the girls before they take them back to the hotel then shove them in a taxi home. Or at least away.

Frank fumbles he find his prostate and rubs his fingers over it, too hard and sloppoy, Rio’s hand twists in his hair without meeting too and Frank gives a hum of satisfaction and that enough to have Rio almost shouting, biting his lips to hold it in in the quiet still night probably suffocating Frank with his hand pulling his head down and his cock filling Frank’s mouth with come.

Franks just coughs a couple of times and then laughs. Rio stares up, then at the window, wide open, grubby white curtains hanging limply in the lack of a sea breeze. Franks spits on the sheet and then nuzzles across Rio’s thigh. His stubble is rough on the skin inside Rio’s leg and his ass is burning where Frank hasn’t taken his fingers out.

In fact he’s nudging them further in, lying on Rio’s thigh, cheek smooshed and hair a mess from Rio’s hand when he let go after he came.

“The fuck? Frank?” The words are separated by rough mouthfuls of breath. He can’t move, Frank practically lying on his leg, too hot, hard dick on his leg. “Get the fuck off me.”

Franks grins at the protest. Pulls his fingers out to rest his ring finger at Rio’s ass with the other two resting just inside him.

“You wanna be on your stomach?” It’s like fucking Frank to pretend nothing is wrong, that this is like in the past when they would hook up. “No I want you the fuck off me you fucking nutter.”

Frank’s smile slides away and he looks petulant. It was cute the first few times Rio saw it. Now it’s fucking annoying. “I said it was over.” Rio shoves Frank’s forehead again, Frank stuffs a finger in him in retaliation and it’s so sudden that Rio clenches up and pants desperately.

“Fuck Frabk.” He gasps roughly. “What part of no more don’t you get.”

Frank smiles, his sharp little canines peeking out. Frank kisses up his leg, slurps at the sweat lying greasy on Rio’s stomach.

“You say no more but you never stop me.”

“I was sleeping.” Rio’s head pounds he gasps in gratitude when Frank’s fingers slip out of him.

“You were hard,” Frank nuzzles into Rio’s neck goes straight for the bottom of his ear which he knows is a weak point for Rio. “Moaning my name.” It’s bullshit, Rio’s knows it’s bullshit and Frank knows he knows, his head thumps again and Frank goes on “you’re the one who told me ‘“like old times,’ you’re the one with slick in your bag.”

Rio can’t make sense of the memory that Frank brings up. Laughing so loud they are about to be chucked out, football players spending big and attracting girls or not. Rio’s head rings, trying to get the night in order. He’d been swapping kisses with the girl with strawberry flavoured lips. Then she was gone and Frank was pressed to his side. Eyes too bright and voice too loud.

“How was I supposed to know you didn’t want this, kept your arm around me, cuddling me all night. Kept squeezing my leg.”

“I was drunk.” Frank hmmms “sure thing.” He bites on Rio’s collarbone when Rio puts his hands on Frank’s hips to shove him back. “Keep it down.” Frank mumbles around Rio’s nipple “you’ll wake the lads.”

That sends a cold fizzle down Rio’s spine. The house they have rented has four bedrooms but at any point one of them is usually sleeping or passed out in the living room and that’s only a door and half a hall between the couch and the room Rio claimed.

“No more Frank.” Frank switches sides, lo ks his nipple and ruts against Rio, “don’t be selfish.” Frank says “you got off. Don’t be a dick. Leading me on with all your ‘like old times’ and you wanna kick me out when only you got to come.”

Rio looks at the door ajar. “Keep it down.” He hisses . “Can you be quiet?”

Frank grinds into his leg, “yeah I’ll bite when I come no one will hear.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Frank rolls his hips, “come on I’m so wound up from how pretty you sound, how good you feel, it’s only going to last a minute.”

Franks dick is leaving little snail trails of come behind, and experience has thought Rio he’s really not far off coming.

“Just rub one out.” Rio says finally. Heartbeat calming, thigh protesting when Frank’s weight is holding it out and down.

“Let me fuck you.” Frank’s voice is needy and too loud. There aren’t even cicadas making a sound tonight.

“Keep it down.” Rio whispers but Frank stubborly keeps his voice a regular pitch. “Come on. Wanna screw.”

Rio sighs and relaxes against the bed. Frank’s grin is triumphant and he climbs off Rio’s leg to lie between them, the shape of his body opening Rio’s legs further. “Wanna be on your stomach?” He’s at least whispering, voice the kind of low intent that gets girls going.

He’s holding lube in his hand, a type Rio has never seen before and he shakes his head.

“Just don’t take forever.” Rio’s face screws up at the drip of cold lube on him. “This is a one time thing. Last time.” Frank nods and kisses Rio, gentle and reverent, ignoring the foul taste in Rio’s mouth, may not even notice it over the taste of Rio’s come.

“Go easy,” Rio doesn’t add it’s been a while, doesn’t want Frank putting together that the last time was Frank as well.

“So good.” Franks slides in inch by inch, fingers running over Rui’s shoulders and arms, soothing him through getting opened up on his dick “no one else is this good.” Frank rests his forehead down, mumbles into Rio’s neck “I love you. I always have.”

Rio doesn’t clench up at that because he was expecting it. It makes his heart drop as Frank starts a slow smooth rythum, it won’t be over in a minute Rio thinks. Then he just thinks ‘shit fuck no’ as Frank mumbles he loves him again

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Light on the Darkside - Chapter Twelve.

Ahhh, it's the chapter you've been waiting for, besties. Enjoy! :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 5,204

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Topics cover depression, suicide and eating disorders. Minors DNI!

Ella felt about as fresh as a crumpled piece of paper upon waking many hours later, but not because her slumber hadn’t been pleasant. It very much had, although leaving her makeup on was a regrettable decision.  

Stretching, she turned to find the space next to her empty, able to hear the shower running in the next room. The man who’d been in it arrived wrapped in a black towel after a few minutes, his towel dried hair hanging damp. Hoo, what a sight. Nearly naked and wet James. 

“Alright, little,” he chirped, smiling. “Sleep well?”  

“I did, but I feel crispy,” she began, evoking his snort of laughter. “Think I could do with going where you’ve just come from.” 

“Yeah, no worries. There’s clean towels in the corner cupboard.” 

She gasped comically. “Clean towels, in a man house?” 

“Oi, less of that! We’re semi-domesticated. Only cos’ the building actually has a laundry room downstairs. If we had to leave the flat and go to a laundrette then yeah, we’d be a bit more dirtbag than we are,” he chuckled, Ella climbing from the bed and receiving a kiss.  

“Can I borrow your toothbrush, please?”  

“Yeah, it’s the green one.” 

“Cool beans. Oh, are the others up yet? If they are then I’ll need to take clothes with me. You seeing me in my pants is one thing, but anyone else I’m like, not so confident about.” 

She was too cute, James hugging her and dropping a kiss to her head. “Nah, babe. You’re fine. Snedders is passed out and I don’t even think Steve made it home. Bedroom door was wide open and he weren’t in there.”  

Things had gone well with Hester, then.  

Leaving him in the bedroom battling with the knots in his hairdryer cord, she padded barefoot past a sleeping Snedders, letting herself into the bathroom. Oh, what a typical man abode. It wasn’t massively grubby, but it really could have done with a good clean.  

Switching the shower on, she used the toilet while waiting for the water to run hot, grabbing herself a towel before undressing. Her hair was still fresh from being washed the day before, Ella finding a hair elastic, picking out the bits of James’s dark strands from it and tying all of hers up, save it getting wet.  

Looking down at the dark wood floorboards, she felt a cold wave wash over her suddenly. This was where it had happened, where Steve had found him hovering between life and death. The damage of the door being kicked in was still evident, the doorframe splintered in places, the paint cracked around where it had been successfully rehung once more.  

She didn’t know why, but she crouched, her fingers running over the grain in the floorboards. If he’d succeeded... She couldn’t think about that for a second. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she climbed into the bathtub and closed the curtain, happy to let the water hit her skin.  

Once out and dry, she untied her hair and brushed her teeth, picked up her pants and top and opened the door a fraction, checking that Snedders was still sleeping. He was. Rushing through the flat just in case, she entered James’s bedroom, finding him sitting on the bed, hair now dried, still in a towel. The way he looked at her, wow. It made something very pleasant roll through her tummy.  

“Hot bird in a small towel. Bloody hell,” he spoke, Ella feeling her cheeks tingle a little. There they were, their nakedness only covered by towels, staring at one another with unmistakable intent. That look... those eyes... that body... him. Just him. It was without fear or thought that she let her towel fall, his eyebrows arching, Ella walking over to straddle his legs. He had always been bigger than her fear, and now her need for him eclipsed it. God, she wanted him. 

“Fucking... hell.” he breathed, kissing her between her breasts. His arms encircled her, looking up at her with lust blown pupils, black bleeding into grey as he swallowed hard. How he’d coveted this very moment for so long, felt himself break apart inside for it, been driven to distraction by the need to be with her. “That’s even more beautiful than I imagined, you naked.” 

“How long have you been imagining it for?” 

He moved his mouth, sucking her nipple, feeling her tense and then relax against him. “Too fucking long, darlin’.” Their mouths met, James lying back and taking her with him, their kisses softly smouldering with sugared embers. No orderly eyes, no need for sneakiness, nothing at all to stop her from trailing his chest with her nails, one hand reaching to untuck his towel.  

Giving him a smouldering look, she licked her palm wet, biting her lower lip. “Finally, it’s your turn.” Her mouth returned to his, hand curling around his cock, very happy with what she felt. Jesus, it was thick. She felt her walls beginning to slick and sting with want to feel it within her, her mouth descending to his neck, scattering kisses over his leanly defined bulk.  

“Mmm, fuck,” he grunted when her teeth closed upon his nipple. “Harder.” She obliged, and it sent him into stratosphere. “Fuck yeah. I really get off on a bit of pain.” 

“Yeah?” she spoke, grazing her nails down his chest. Oh, the sound that action pulled from him. It made her pulse flutter madly as her mouth descended, shuffling back between his long legs. Her hand tightened, his abs tensing when she brought her mouth to him, tongue flicking idly over the tip of his cock, the tease she used rapidly turning his brain to static.  

“Do fucking not blow your load in ten seconds, man. Fucks sake. Do not.” The staunch words he had with himself internally were made very difficult to adhere to as Ella let her mouth sheathe him completely, James closing his eyes as his head thudded back on the bed. It had been much too long for him, since he was last with a woman. Since his release he’d received plenty of offers, but had turned them all down.  

In his mind, it was only her.  

The swirl of her tongue from the base to tip of his shaft had his thighs setting tense, his hands becoming lost in her pale blonde waves. His groans arrowed right to her cunt, Ella longing for him, her need spiralling strongly, the tips of her nails grazing down over his chest again, leaving bright raspberry marks in their wake.  

She’d always been very sexually confident, but of course had felt nerves at being with him intimately for the first time. Every groan, muscle twitch and shuddered breath her touch evoked made those feelings further melt away, even though she still fought the urge to stop, grab her top and hide herself within it.  

Her moment of bravery had passed, her new body still something she was getting used to, but oh, how she felt bolstered further when he pulled her up into a kiss, turning her onto her back and pinning her there as his hands began to roam. No bones rose to meet his fingers as they explored her flesh, the addition of much vitally needed weight giving her slender, soft curves. Truly, she was still very slim, but at least he no longer feared he might break her.  

His mouth followed the path his hands took, paying attention to how she reacted, repeated touches that made her shudder, his tongue wetting a long lick beneath her hipbone as his thumb moved to her slit. It rubbed through the dewy petals of her, settling on her clit, his tongue soon to take over in a long, firm swipe that had her hips titling up. Pausing, he took a good look at her spread before him, lips curving into a wide smile.  

“Fuck, that’s such a pretty little cunt, innit?” 

“I like to think so,” she chirped, her confidence given further growth by his approving words. 

“Mm,” he grunted, tickling her clit with the tip of his tongue. “I’m gonna have a really good time, wrapping my mouth around it.” When he did, taking a greedy suck upon her, her back immediately arched, her moan celestially soft. It arrowed right to his depths, his arousal doubling as he buried his mouth against her hungrily. Ohhh, that sound, the sweet exclamation of a woman in rapture. How he’d missed it. 

As for Ella, she lay there smouldering pleasantly as his tongue went to work on her, running through her folds, circling firm over her clit, her hands soon weaving into the silky dark of his hair and tugging. The groan it prompted, oh. He liked that. Stroking her thighs as he ate her fervently, his tongue chased sensations that fizzed up her spine like a cascade of tiny bubbles, her mouth dropped open, crying out at every firm, well placed lick. 

To be with a man who actually knew what he was doing. It had been a while. 

What his mouth evoked drew all manner of noises from her, her sweet little gasps of pleasure making his arousal rage as he felt her clit hardening against his tongue, circling it slowly as he opened his eyes to watch her writhe on the bed. 

“You enjoying that, babe?” he asked in tease, laughing when her head shot up to give him a frown of incredulity. Of course, she was. 

“As if you have to bleedin’ ask!” 

He shrugged, lips wrapping her clit in pillowy heat, sucking so hard, her entire body shuddered in spasm. “Can’t say I don’t like having my ego fed a bit, innit.” Pulling the chunky rings off his right hand (the devil head one especially would rip her to pieces going anywhere near her soft pink) he pushed two fingers into the sodden grasp of her core, rumbling a groan as he turned to bite her inner thigh hard. “Fuck, darlin’. Absolutely dripping.”  

Her pleasure crackled like a live current as his fingers hooked and raked firmly at her, mouth reconnecting with her velvet wetness. Sucking on her until his cheeks hollowed, moaning low and predatory as her hands yanked hard in his hair, he felt himself lost to her entirely. Ella welcomed it, for him to map pleasure over her completely unchartered. 

Her bud was once again bathed in the wet heat of incessant, quickly licked circles, his fingers gliding in and out of her with ease, getting her so wet that her dew trickled down the back of his hand. That in itself had his cock twitching wildly, dying to be within her but also knowing he was in no rush to move his mouth. 

When James Kingston went down on you, he did not surface quickly. 

His mouth worked at her without pause, greedily consuming her as she shook against him, feeling herself begin to come undone. It was a sensation like no other, his fingers driving into her hard as his tongue flicked against her clit with a fast, unyielding beat, sparks glimmering as she went rigid and came suddenly with a series of little cries.  

There was a sudden exclamation of ‘for fucks sake!’ that came from the lounge, a stomp of feet preceding the playing of the same album they’d listened to the previous night, only at much greater volume. Ahh. Snedders was up, then. 

“I think your wailing woke the flea circus,” James snickered, mouth gentling on her, turning his head to kiss a path up her inner thigh. 

“Ooops,” she snorted, laughing.  

“He can deal with it. I ain’t gonna be done for a while.”  

Words she was extremely fond of hearing. The abyss of pleasure he’d chased her into with his mouth was still ebbing away, James continuing to let her cool down as his fingers exited the slippery clasp of her. He rolled his tongue softly over her clit a few times, Ella jolting from oversensitivity a little until it only felt blissful once more, feeling him keenly push it inside her. 

Her slick muscles flexed as he tasted her sweet little hole, groaning deeply as his big hands gripped her waist. She lay back in an almost celestial blaze, nails grazing his scalp, her pleasure welling up again strongly. The coil within her tightened as the lightning struck once more, this time all prompted by the slow circling of his tongue around her clit, nothing more, but fuck, how he made her ache for his cock. 

Yet still, he did not stop. The sharp pain of her arousal, tingling all through her core persisted as he sucked at her, his hands stroking her lower back as her body arched, absolutely lost to the sensations he gave. 

She fell apart again, shattered into pieces against his relentless mouth. This time, though, he emerged, kissing his way back up her body until his tongue danced with hers. 

“Have you got any...” she began, James shuffling across the bed and moving her with him, hand reaching to open the bedside drawer and grasp around, pulling out a handful of condoms.  

“Yep, plenty.” Dropping all but one on the table, he pulled it from its wrapper and rolled it on quickly, knocking her legs apart further with his elbows as he lowered to kiss her with smouldering heat. He didn’t even need to guide himself to her, a simple shift of her hips facilitating the push within to be complete, joined at last, staring at one another as he stroked her face, his heart pounding in her perfect rhythm with hers. 

They kissed again as he bottomed out, her soft, sweet moan meeting a groan so barbarous and deep, James resting his weight on his elbows as he felt her nails glide sumptuously over his neck. His cock was so thick and heavy within her, dragging her walls, Ella wrapping her legs around his waist and feeling him sink within her fully again. Fuck, he felt better than anything. 

He filled her completely, her cunt at complete capacity. She was overcome by the moment, as was he for a brief pause, staring at one another, finally joined, James leaning to kiss her softly. The feeling of his heart thundering against her breast only added to it, that shared elation over what they had waited on for months. Oh, how she’d craved to be pinned beneath him, stretched around his cock, adrift in a realm of pleasure far from anything she had ever felt before. 

“Fuck, babe. If I only last about a minute, I’m sorry. Been a while, like,” he told her through an overly aroused groan, Ella laughing softly as she stroked his face and kissed him again, biting his lower lip when he suddenly thrust into her a little more voraciously. 

“Better give me a damned good sixty seconds then, church burner.” 

Her quip was met by a soft growl, James biting her jaw softly. “Cheeky twat.” 

She was about to retort, but the way he began to sink his cock into the dewy plush of her, ohhh. Ohhh, he was so good. “Mmmm, you make my pussy all tingly,” she purred, fingers gliding through the soft midnight of his hair. 

Nibbling her jaw, he rutted her a little deeper, a gasp spilling from her mouth. “I should fucking think so, innit, with how long I just spent licking it.” 

Her soft little cries filled his ears, completely drowning in him, her body moving against his in perfect sync as he began to pound her hard, the heat between them sparking wildly as he drove into her with wanton force. God, he was amazing. 

The moans began to pour from both of their mouths, silencing each other with feverish kisses as the euphoric rush grew more intensely with every thrust. He hit her at every angle, every depth, his mouth at her neck as his hands cupped her breasts, Ella absolutely floored by how deliciously incredible a lover he was. 

Perspiration began to bead their skin, James pounding her with merciless delivery before suddenly sitting up and pulling her against him, grasping her bum and bouncing her on his cock as they groaned and kissed. Jesus, it was even better than he’d imagined it would be with her. He felt himself becoming lost to it, to her, staring into the pale blue of her eyes, telling her the words she would never tire of hearing. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Ella.” 

Squeezing her legs around him, the tip of his cock hitting her deeply again and again, she wrapped her arms around his neck, staring into his beautiful, stormy grey eyes, her heart fluttering wildly. No other man had made her feel such erotic intensity before. Maybe it was seven weeks without him, maybe it was just them together, she didn’t know. She wouldn’t question the endless pleasure that skittered over her nerves, though. Only enjoy it.  

For them both, it was the first time in many months that they had felt so alive, so blooming and burning with the hum of sexual energy. It was the ultimate expression of the freedom they could now enjoy together, his arms tightening around her, a bonfire of pleasure roaring through him and catching at her edges as he laid kisses and bites over her throat.  

Her nails dug into his back and tore down as she began grinding down on him hard, their culmination surging, rushing, like a wave about to crash against a cliff, everything fervid and urgent until…bliss. Supreme bliss as she came just before him, white hot fury pulsing through her, both spent and panting in the aftermath. 

She clung to his sweaty body, fighting for breath, her forehead rested to his shoulder as he stroked her hair, still gently gliding up and down on his twitching cock before enjoying stillness, the stretch of his thickness blissful within her post-orgasmic walls 

“Shitting hell,” he panted, grinning widely, kissing her. “Wow.” 

“Innit, to use one of your expressions,” she panted, his rumbling laughter filing the space as she climbed off him and flopped onto her back, him joining her after disposing of the condom. “I could happily fall asleep again right now.” 

His eyebrow arched. “You bloody well better not, Ells bells. I have plans for you, and none of them involve you being asleep.” 

“If you put it like that,” she grinned, turning onto her side, falling into endless, heated kisses. While their morning was going amazingly, for someone else, with his hangover fully kicked in, it wasn’t quite so great. 

“Oi, Sneds,” Steve spoke, coming back into the flat at just gone midday. “Fucking turn that down or the knob upstairs will be banging on the floor again.” 

Snedders reached for the remote. “Alright, but trust me. It’s the lesser of two evils.” Turning it down, the sound of Ella crying out loudly was no longer masked, Steve beginning to chuckle filthily. 

“Ahh, he’s a lad,” he spoke, with obvious affection for the root cause of her noises, walking over to the wall that bordered James’s bedroom, beating his fist off of it a few times. “Go on, my son! Give it some!” he laughed. Those chuckles only ascended further when he heard James laughing filthily from the other side of the wall.  

Snedders as less than amused. “Aw mate, don’t fucking encourage him! Two hours off and on, them two have been going at it! I just want to sit here and enjoy my hangover in peace, but no. James will fucking insist on his usual brand of high-octane shagging. Twat.” 

“Ya just jealous because you ain’t getting your dick wet right now,” Steve snorted, moving to the kettle to make himself a coffee. Christ, he needed it. A can of Redbull was also grabbed from the fridge, drained rapidly in a few gulps. 

“So, you had a good night then after you left, yeah?” 

Steve grinned widely. “Hester is a hell of a woman, my friend.” 

“Yeah? So, them tits. They weren’t real, were they? Looked a bit too, I dunno, rounded at the top to be real.” 

“Nah,” Steve confirmed, spooning coffee into a mug, pointing to a second. “Tea?” 

“Yeah, nice one,” he confirmed. “So, do they still feel like real tits?” 

“Ish,” he spoke with a so-so hand gesture. “They’re heavier than real tits, bit firmer, too. Still felt fucking awesome to stick my cock between, like.”  

That statement roused a dirty chuckle of approval. “You seeing her again?” 

Steve shrugged. “Yeah, likely. Hester is fucking sound, man. Not in the market for getting attached, told me that right off the bat. Not like that girl a few weeks ago. Nah, fucking hell.” He cringed then, thinking of Hayley, who had considered them an official item despite his mentioning multiple times that he wasn’t in the market for a relationship. Despite his resolution, he had felt bad for her. Steve never relished in hurting anyone’s feelings. He was a good guy, just not one who wanted to be tied down to one woman at twenty-two years old.  

That was where he and James vastly differed, the man himself finally making an appearance in the lounge after a further hour.  

“Wheeeey, ya massive tart!” Steve called, pointing at him from the sofa, a huge grin fixed in place. “Can you still feel the end of your dick, or have you gone numb yet?” 

James clicked the kettle on, patting his crotch through his jeans. “Still there for now.” 

“And how’s the lovely Ella?” 

He couldn’t stop the snort laugh. “Knackered. Left the poor girl to kip for a bit.” After making a tea, he moved to sit in the armchair, Snedders spluttering a laugh as he pointed to him. 

“Turn around and move your hair, mate,” he requested, James doing as asked. “What the fuck, man? Your back! Looks like she’s drawn a road map of Great Britain on it with her nails!” 

“Yeah, boy!” Steve guffawed, “Kingston got brutalised!” 

“Fucking didn’t half,” James winked, sitting down and taking a sip of very strong tea, reaching to grab his cigarettes from the table. “I’m top grade shagged out. I think we went through every fucking position known to man, and a few that aren’t.” 

Steve beamed, a massive grin not unlike that of a shark. “Bet you’re still getting back in there once she’s woken up though, right?” 

His friend laughed filthily. “Oh fuck, yeah.”  

Just then, a piercing scream emanated from his bedroom, a few more following it. 

Snedders pointed his mug in the direction of the door. “Sounds like she’s started again without you.”  

That door then flew open, revealing Ella dressed in one of his t shirts that almost buried her, hopping from one foot to the other as she waved a pointed finger in the direction of the room she’d just vacated at speed. “Bleedin’ hell! There’s a fucking spider the size of a saucer on your bed!” 

Ahh, she’d escaped. “Didn’t you notice the viv in the corner, babe?” 

“The what?” she spluttered, still dancing around. “Do not tell me you keep that thing as a pet!” 

“Yeah. Hold on, you’ve probably terrified her.” Walking over to her, he grasped her shoulders, kissing her head. “You okay? You look a bit pale, innit.” 

“She crawled on my leg!”  

He noticed she was without her jeans, and while decently covered by the t shirt, perhaps wouldn’t be too comfortable with that by the time she’d calmed down. “Want me to fetch your jeans?”  

“Please!”  

He firstly went to retrieve that item of clothing, passing them through the door, Ella ducking behind the kitchen units to pull them on. He then emerged a few seconds later, with the giant, black spider sitting contentedly on his shoulder. “She was in a pillowcase, hiding. This is Hel, she’s a goliath bird eater.”  

“I’m going over here,” she spoke, moving to the armchair and seating herself, hugging her knees to her chest, her face a picture of freaked out. 

“I didn’t like her either when he first got her, but she’s actually really chilled out. Can’t let her climb all over me like he does, though. Nah,” Steve spoke, watching as James held his arm out straight, the spider beginning to scuttle down towards his hand.  

“Oi, don’t you try and jump, you’ll break a leg,” James spoke, clicking his fingers and whistling. “Come on, back on the shoulder.” Tapping it, she began to move back, nestling herself beneath his hair for a moment before moving to his chest. 

“What the fuck, she understands you?” 

“Whistles, yeah. Not words, though. She gets it that if I tap, that’s where I want her to be. Follows the vibrations, innit. And she’ll come to a whistle because I started doing it before I fed her,” he explained, scratching her with his finger. “I’ll go put her back before you freak out completely, unless you wanna hold her?” 

Ella’s face coupled by the noise of dread had Steve and Snedders laughing. “No. Not cool beans! I want no part of being near a spider that big unless she’s behind glass.” 

“Shame,” he spoke, lifting her from his chest. “She’s just like a puppy. Wants to be held and fussed. Don’t worry, I’ll padlock the door again. Must’ve forgot to put it on yesterday afternoon before I left, hence the escape, like.” 

“Bye, bye, presider of the underworld,” Snedders called. Her name was apt if nothing else.  

James gently grasped one of her front legs, waving it. “See ya, fleabag.” 

He then turned to Ella with a small shudder. “She freaks me the fuck out, too.” 

“Says the man who’s scared of chickens,” Steve snorted, offering Ella a cigarette she took with thanks, throwing one at James when he arrived back, lifting Ella to sit on the armchair and place her upon his lap. “Did James ever tell you about the time he got chased by about sixty hens?”  

“No!” she cried. 

“Aw, fuck off, man,” Snedders began, pulling his dreadlocks in front of his face. “She don’t need to hear my shame.”  

“Sorry, Snedders. Think I do,” she spoke, her seat a little unstable as Jame shook with laughter beneath her.  

“Right, so this was about seven years ago, and his mum gives him some cash to go out and buy a chicken for Sunday dinner. Him? He decides to come meet us down the pub instead,” Steve began. 

“At The Crown by any chance?” she quickly asked. “It’s the only place for miles around you can get served at sixteen if you look vaguely old enough.” 

“Yep!” he confirmed, pointing at her. “So yeah, he decides he’s got time. One pint turns into two, two into three. You know the rest. Anyway, shops all shut, he’s in for a right fucking ear full of screaming from his mum, so he gets the bright idea to walk to the chicken farm about a mile from the pub, pinch one, kill it, pluck it and take it home.” 

Ella threw her head back, laughing hard already. “And like, the lack of plastic tray and wrapper, plus the fact it’d need its guts yanking out, your mum wouldn’t have been suss about that?” 

“Ella, honey, you’re crediting ole’ Sneds here with being able to ever think more than one move ahead,” Steve spoke, shaking his head, dodging a fist aimed for his thigh by the drummer.  

“I would have got to the oven first!” he announced, sipping his tea with a frown. 

“Okay, so yeah, we all go up there with him because nah, you wouldn’t miss that. And they’re all free range up there, so it could have been done, just ducking under the fence and grabbing one. So, he does, and, he actually gets one. But it’s feisty, and it pecks him and lets out this noise that ain’t like any other chicken noise ever. Think death honk.” 

Oh, how she howl laughed at death honk, James falling apart too as he remembered the noise. 

“Anyway, he’s dropped it and it and it starts pecking its boots, still death honking, which was when half the fucking field came on full chicken charge, so we figured it was probably a distress call. Nah, I ain’t ever seen colour drain from someone’s face so quick in my life! He ran, dived over the fence, got stuck halfway on the barbed wire and ended up shirtless and chickenless. It was quality!”  

Imagining it in her mind, she continued to laugh, feeling a slither of guilt that it came at Snedders expense, until he finally cracked and began rumbling a chuckle at the memory of his sixteen-year-old self's strife.  

“Right, if you lot are done taking the piss, I’m making food,” he announced, heaving himself up off the sofa. “Got potatoes, yeah?” 

“Yeah, mate,” Steve confirmed, turning his attention back to Ella. “Your friend, sweetheart. I gotta fucking say it. Bloody hell. She’s... yeah. Got piercings where I wasn’t expecting ‘em!” 

Ella crinkled her nose, shaking her head. “And with that, I do not need to hear anything else about the fact Hester pierced her flaps. I was there when she had them done. She nearly broke my bleedin’ hand!” 

“You can tell me all about it later though, yeah?” James spoke with a wink, expecting the slap Ella aimed for his chest as he guffawed at the look on her face. They sat there talking for around half an hour before the chef du jour called them over, Steve loitering while he went to change the music for something else. 

Snedders picked up the first bowl, turning to Ella. “Here ya go.” Proffering it forth, he draped a tea towel over his arm in true waiter fashion. “Mashed potatoes ala Snedders pour mademoiselle.” 

Taking a deep breath, she loaded up her fork and took a mouthful, trying to push the fear down. Potatoes were still scary, but she’d managed pizza the night before, and it was only a small portion, after all. “Oh my god! Those are bleedin’ amazing!” she spoke, her eyes widening. “What do you put in them?” 

“Don’t ask him that, Ella. He won’t tell nobody,” Steve spoke, flicking through his vinyl collection. 

Snedders lifted his chin, a smile curling beneath his bushy beard. “A man has to have his secrets.” 

“I’ll give you credit, mate. You’ve got way better at this over the years. I remember when you tried making this back when you lived at home, got stoned, fell asleep and burned the potatoes to the saucepan. Fucking liability, innit?” James chuckled, taking his bowl and digging the fork in. 

A few more stories about the walking disaster that was Snedders were revealed as they ate, Ella sharing a few of her own at her sister’s expense, like running away from the pet goat their aunt kept on several occasions.  

All the while, James sat there happily, just listening for the most part. And, as his friends both noticed, looking happier than he had in a very long time.  

[echoes-lighthouse]

Had a heartfelt conversation with a friend at work today about our Harry Potter phases and decided to draw up my existing selfships for that universe! I kind of vacillate between not wanting to engage with the fandom and wanting to rub my grubby little genderqueer feminist fingers all over it. Neither of these ships are getting a tag because they're not going to be reoccuring on this blog, but this is just a today thing.

V1: Minerva McGonagall Timeline

My s/i comes to work at Hogwarts after the First Wizarding War, helping the kids recover from the war and the widespread loss of parents. Their eventual goal is to specialize in non-human therapy in the Wizarding World, so they keep going to the Forbidden Forest to interview centaurs, but they also care a lot about the students.

They have a little Yorkie dog as their familiar, who's always tip-tapping down the stone corridors after them. He's also an emotional support dog for the students, they can hold him during sessions.

Dumbledore and I have a mutually wary relationship, but so far we've been working towards the same goals, so the wariness is mostly expressed in being overly cheerful with each other and always buying each other candy. But we're side-eyeing each other the entire time distrustfully.

Minerva and I were also kind of wary of each other initially, but I was also very open about how cool I thought she was, and wanting to socialize more with her. I'm friends with most of the professors: Rubeus, Filius, Ponoma, even Severus, although I had to learn not to pry as much as I naturally do.

The more Minerva and I started socializing, the more we enjoyed each other's company, and one thing led to another and now we're married, although the students don't know. Minerva's pretty private, so we told the staff but not the kids. There's always a couple of them who figure it out, but they're usually queer as well, so they keep it quiet.

V2: Severus Snape Timeline

My s/i in this universe is three years older than the main cast! Both of my Hogwarts self-inserts are Halfbloods, but this one cares a lot more because they're in Slytherin, so it's a bigger deal.

Basically I transferred over from Canada in my Fifth Year and I was like 'wow everyone must have a crush on Professor Snape' and everyone else was like 'what the literal fuck did you just say with your mouth?' and I realized that it was not universally agreed that he was the sexiest professor and decided to basically campaign for my perspective.

As a result, all of the students and staff know that I have a crush on Severus: Severus hates it for several reasons: he thinks that I'm annoying, the other teachers tease him about it, and it's just uncomfortable and he wants to absolutely find an excuse to get me out of the school entirely.

Anyways, I'm generally a big sibling figure to the other non-conforming Slytherins: half-bloods, muggle-borns, queer kids, kids who've broken with their families, I kind of collect them. Me and Luna are also very close, and we dye each other's hair and go to games together.

I graduate in Harry's Fifth Year, but when shit really starts to hit the fan, I organize the alternative Slytherins and get them out of there. I end up tied in with the Order of the Phoenix because of my little student team, and their familial connections to some Death Eaters, that enable them to get us information.

By then I'm all grown up and aware of how uncomfortable I made Severus, so I try to be extra nice to him but not in a creepy way, and he's like 'goddamnit they're competent and good at taking care of their people and they keep making me tea and it makes me feel weird when they have flowers in their hair but they're kicking ass in a dueling session' and then I nurse him back to health after the climax and we fall in love okay??? okay ^w^

Also me having taken all the cool Slytherins is why the whole house is dicks in the final book lol

[captain-mj]

Hi there,

I had read your ghost x graves fic oneshot

Like can you make another rough NSFW fic with more aftercare for graves but a little possessive ghost

I feel sorry for graves like I just want to hug that guy after that fic...

Hell yeah i can

Ghost had been angry since 6:02 that morning. A few rookies, or maybe Shadows, he couldn't fucking tell, had been talking.

"Look, not my fault he wears stuff that shows off his ass. The guy takes any opportunity he can to bend over in front of someone."

"He's a commander! You can't seriously be suggesting he fucks anyone on base."

"I think he more gets fucked if I'm honest. Wish he'd let me have a turn."

"We could probably pass him around."

Ghost had shattered the cup in his hands, staring at them so hard they all went sickly pale.

"Lieutenant... Hi..."

"Graves is your fucking superior. Show some respect." Ghost snarled at them, making them flinch.

"Yes, sir." One of them bit out before they quickly made their escape.

Graves must've been able to tell. Ghost entered his room to find him already undressed and laid out.

"Thought you could use some stress relief." He purred at him.

Ghost took off the heavy parts of his gear before attacking him, hand around his throat while the other explored him.

Those fuckers were thinking of doing this.

Wishing they could put their grubby hands on his things.

"Are you sleeping with anyone else on base?"

The haze in Graves's eyes disappeared immediately. "What?

"Are you sleeping with anyone else?"

"No. Don't have the stamina for that." He laughed. "You wear me out, sugar." Graves smiled. "Are you?"

"No."

"Do you want to be exclusive?" Leave it to Graves of all people to just get why Ghost would ask.

"Let's talk about it later."

"Alright." Graves tugged one of Ghost's gloves off, kissing all his fingers.

Ghost could see all the bruises and hickeys on his body from where he had been earlier. No one could ever touch him without seeing where he had been. Slowly, Ghost's hands spread Graves's thighs, admiring the little cuts and bites he had left there two nights ago.

"Not so rough right there, still tender." Graves patted his shoulder and Ghost nodded, reaching up and binding Grave's hands to his headboard. After a moment of thought, he blindfolded him, ignoring the little pout he got for it.

Ghost's tongue laved over the marks, mask pulled up just over his mouth. Unlike his past partners, Graves liked the mask. He never asked him to take it off or whined when he wore it. It was comforting, if a little offputting when he thought about taking it off in front of him.

Would the mystique of him wear off?

That thought startled him. Since when the fuck did he care about that?

He bit his hip hard, feeling the slightest bit of blood where his canines cut him.

Graves moaned and pushed closer, nothing if not a masochist. Ghost spit on his fingers and pushed them into him, reaching as deep as he could.

"Still so tight. I'm going to start keeping a fucking toy in you." Another finger shoved into him, the pain of the stretching mixing with the pleasure of not being empty.

Graves spread his legs a little more, panting softly. "Don't like toys when I could just have you."

Ghost grinned, adding some lube to make this work a little faster. He curled his fingers in him and ran his tongue up to his belly button. "Good boy. Got you trained huh?" He sat up and put Graves's ankles near his head, admiring him. Ghost pushed in to him slowly, biting his lip. "Fuck."

"Please. Please." Graves whined and Ghost slapped him hard. He panted softly, body arching. "More. Come on, sir, please."

Ghost slammed into him, pulling the pocket knife he kept for this. He kept it wickedly sharp, ironically for safety. Slowly, he traced Graves's features, going along his mouth and then down his throat, careful not to cut him. Once he got to his chest, he made a slowly, shallow cut down.

Then, he got an idea. He thrust in hard, as deep as he could, going to where Graves's body bulged just a little around him. Right at where it stopped in the middle of his tummy, he carved his initials into him.

Graves held very still, arms shaking slightly. "What are you doing to me?"

"Shut up."

"Yes, sir."

Ghost finished the SR and his hips started to move again. Tears were running down Graves's face, legs shaking. His hole fluttered around him, body tensing around him. He grabbed his cock around its base, holding tight so he wouldn't cum just yet.,

"Beg."

"Sir, please, I've been so good. I'll do whatever you want, please."

Ghost continued to pound into him. He wanted to ruin him. Destroy every part of him. Break him open until all he could think about was Ghost pounding into him.

"Please, oh Ghost." He said with reverence. Like Ghost was a god he worshipped.

"I'm going to do whatever I want. Just keep taking it." Ghost growled at him, tracing the knife along his sides. "You need to learn to last longer."

Graves whimpered at him. "Ghost..."

"You can last a little longer yeah?"

Graves's head fell back as he tried his best. With Ghost's hand, he didn't really have a choice, but it was clearly getting to him. His body trembling.

Ghost bit along his shoulders and suddenly let go. He came immediately all over both of them. His body fell limply against the bed.

Ghost thrust in a couple more times before coming in him. "You alright?"

Graves whimpered, body still completely limp.

Ghost untied him and laid him in the bed. "Don't remove the blindfold." He got something to clean him up, gently getting all the cum off him before wiping some of the sweat off.

Gently, he rubbed feeling back into his wrist. Ghost kissed his cheek and helped him lay down. "You look lovely."

Graves hummed, still at a loss for words.

Ghost didn't mind, getting one of his tshirts over Graves's body before laying next to him and pulling him to his chest. Graves nuzzled under his chin and yawned.

"Sleep here tonight."

Graves nodded against him.

[selfshipping-central]

Matchup for 🕷 anon!!

Fandom: Obey Me

Satan!! (Romantic)

I’ve decided to pair you with Satan!! Everyone’s favourite cat lover <3

I do wanna talk a little about his reaction to coming out first, if you two are already in a romantic relationship by this point oh my god he is so supportive and so patient.

Want’s to learn everything so he’ll ask you so many questions!!

“So… did you figure it out? How did you figure it out??”

He might forget that a few of them are seen as offensive so you might need to remind him ≡(▔﹏▔)≡

“Oh sorry- I didn’t mean to offend you darling.”

Bless him he just wants to learn more about you <3

Oh my god he’ll take you binder shopping with Asmo. While Asmo is buying all the cute pretty ones you and Satan are looking at Miku binder and giggling.

“We should get this one.”

The only other person I see being almost as hype as Satan when you come out is Asmo.

You and Satan defiantly have some sort of ‘piggybank’ for your surgeries.

Stays by your side the minute you’re out, fretting over you.

This piggybank is heavily protected. Mammon has been banned form dipping his grubby lil fingers into the account lest Lucifer hang him from the ceiling again.

“Wait I didn’t mean to Satan I didn’t know!! Please don’t get Lucifer.”  

He doesn’t mind how silly you are online, he’s not a big social media user but he’ll post pictures of you both on Devilgram.

“Asmo said to post pictures of us on our dates. So smile for the camera darling.”

Loves how shy you are.

It reminds him of a cat.

Unironically calls you ‘kitten’.

“Kitten come here.” *The horrid sound of Mammon’s laughter as he falls to the floor gasping for air.*

You two can be overachievers together. The only thing scarier than Lucifer is you and Satan during exam prep.

“Now listen here darling. I’m not letting you beat me on this exam just you wait.”

Can I hear it for academic rivals to lovers?!

You two are always comparing marks and either congratulating each other, or cursing the heavens.

Somewhere, far away. Simeon sneezes.

You need that academic praise? He’s got you.

“Wait you got full marks on that one? I was sure you would lose a few… wow darling. You must be better at Devildom history than me… that’s impressive for a human. Good job.”

Is so confused if you start crying because of the praise.

“Did I do something wrong?? All I did was attempt to praise you-”

Adores quality time. You might be sitting next to him while you crochet while he studies or watches cat videos or something and he’s having the time of his life.

Doesn’t get overly jealous of other demons, but he will get really pissed off if he catches anyone near you that are clearly pushing your boundaries.

Teach him how to play some basketball.

Once he get’s the hand of it he might slam you at it.

All friendly obviously.

Set bets for each other, the kind if you lose you gotta do yadda yadda for Satan and vice versa.

Gives you both that extra push to go all out.

Think’s your makeup is pretty cool and would let you try putting some on him. But only after Asmo is done having his half hour makeup session with you.

He honestly doesn’t really care about the way you look, dress, etc. If you are getting dysphoria or are feeling particularly insecure, he will do his best to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

Simply stands off in the corner while Asmo helps you with fashion.

Oh could you please show him how to wear a jacker properly its really fucking annoying <33

Takes you to cat cafes.

Late night karaoke?

Late night karaoke.