#I remember my shoulders cramped that time bc they were so tense

[miciiq]

Unhappy Refrain Master Lv.31 Full Combo

Results from my 2nd try:

[simpingland]

Something something like protective male stark reader (who grew up on dragonstone) x lucerys :333 when they went to kingslanding bc luke's inheritance brought into question, he makes his direwolf attack and cut off pieces of vaemond in front of everyone. At the dinner table he throws aemond across the room with a punch not even a second after aemond calls them "strong"

He tells luke when they're alone that no one will dare hurt him as long as reader is breathing

Okie thnk u I love your fic!!!!!!

Touch and Protection// Lucerys Velaryon x Male!Stark!Reader

Summary: reader has spend more than six years in love with Lucerys. But only when the times get difficult, one has to protect the things we love the most.

A/N: sorry for the delay. I swear I'll be working with the rest of my request. Hope you all like it. I have a fanfic about Luke being very gay as well, so you might like that one as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From the moment you set foot on Dragonstone with the then puppy Fiery Hoof, your beloved direwolf, you felt something for Prince Lucerys that you never recognised before. The love between the two of you grew naturally, you were the same age, you shared the day together and you soon discovered that your relationship was very different from the one you might have had with Rhaena, Baela or Jace. Your heart yearned for his constantly and you made it clear to him how much you wanted him.

Luke, on the other hand, was more attentive to his own problems, which were far more than yours. And that's how you found him on the beach, pensive. He heard your wolf scampering and turned to pet him, letting you watch him from a distance. News had come of Vaemond and his request to claim Driftmark and that would mean he would overthrow any rights Luke had.

"Do you think Vaemond will bring many men?" he asked when he saw you arrive.

"He may bring hundreds, and your grandfather will still not cede it to him. Corlys himself named you, I heard it too." You remembered that sad day at Driftmark, when Luke was the only person who spoke to you soon after you arrived south.

"If I tell you the truth...a part of me would be relieved to lose Driftmark." He stopped petting Hoof, and you could see his sadness right there. You would have liked to run your hand over his face, to brush away his grief with a single word. But you contented yourself by lightly touching his shoulder.

"You say that now because you are afraid. But you shouldn't be afraid of anything...not while I'm here."

Her face lit up with affection, and he placed his hand over yours. Lucerys may have known how deeply in love you were with him, though he had never done anything to suppress it, nor anything to reciprocate. Still, your hope kept you by his side.

Back in Kingslanding, Burning Hoof walked happily through the castle, Jace and Luke were your guides, showing you around the castle from top to bottom. You were sorry the journey was over, for on the boat Luke had spent the day clinging to you, letting him lean on you when he got seasick. And in the carriage you'd been cramped together, the wolf between your legs, your hands rubbing together when there were bumps. Luke seemed much calmer now, returning to his childhood with his brother, and happy to show it to you too. Hoof was distracting you in the yard, looking for the stick he had asked you to throw him. And then you saw Aemond Targaryen. Though he was an impressive Prince with a sword, you looked for Lucerys in the crowd. As you guessed, his face turned from shock to terror as he remembered that he had been the one to blame for taking Aemond's eye.

"Nephews..." he said, looking at the Velaryons. "You've come for train?"

There was a veiled threat in that, and Luke and Jace, as stubborn as ever, stood, further airing the tense atmosphere. You walked up to them with the intention of distracting them, and Jace moved aside at once, but Luke needed you to gently push him aside. Vaemond's entrance with his men distracted them first. And it was that one more man who made no secret of his spite, and this time it was all for your dear Lucerys. Your hands, still clutching Luke's sleeves, came into contact with those of the Prince himself, who did not hide his fear now. You did not pull away, but overtook him with dissimulation, trying to reassure him. Only the return of Hoof was able to return Luke to a halfway calm state.

"You're going to be fine, Lucerys," you promised quietly, with the people already far away.

"With Fiery Hoof I sure will be," he replied with a shy smile.

And he turned red, though you didn't understand why. You only felt even a little jealousy. But your direwolf was too good and beautiful not to love. So you made it through the first day at the castle, strolling around while he shared with you those years in which you had remained surrounded by snow.

At night, the Prince could not sleep, and in the room you shared, for you had no room of your own there, you knew by Luke's continual movements in the bed next to yours that he was restless.

"I don't want tomorrow to come," he suddenly confessed to you. You turned to look at him, only the moon illuminating the room.

"I thought you'd rather get it over with."

"That's because I had some hope that everything would be better...but I feel like it will end even worse than it started. I didn't know so many people hated me."

"All of them? Aemond may have reasons...but Vaemond can't say the same. And they don't know you.

"But that doesn't matter," he rose from the bed, and began to pace nervously. "They're going to find some way to make me disappear..."

He fell silent as he saw you lying perfectly still on the bed, looking at him with a tired face and making it clear that you didn't want any more of his self-pity. Then he understood that he had to stop.

"How about we talk about something else?" You proposed then.

"No, don't worry...you must be tired, sleep." He wasn't lying, you were tired, but you couldn't.

"I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing you're chewing your head off across the room."

You saw a smile of gratitude and affection, the one he always gave you.

"When was the first time you saw snow?" he asked, still standing.

"Well, when I was born it snowed, according to my mother..." when you repositioned yourself on the bed you didn't expect Luke's weight as he lay down next to you, on the same bed. "But I remember playing with my brothers before my youngest cousin was born..."

You barely knew what to say, for concentration had gone out the window the moment you felt Luke's eyes so close to you, guessing your face in the darkness. The warmth he gave off was better than any cloth, and he lent you his ears so lovingly that you couldn't help but speak from the heart.

"If I am honest with you, my Prince..." you said.

"Be honest, yes, I love it when you are honest," he interrupted cheerfully, making you laugh.

"Snow has always fascinated me...but it hasn't been the best impression I've ever had." You had him inches away but it felt too far away, and Luke's obtuseness put you even further away. But your heart was honest, and it was telling you everything you needed to know.

"What's been your best impression then?" he whispered, and the air turned sweet.

"The first time I saw the beach, back at Dragonstone." A thousand things went through your head, and you saw a twinkle in his eyes that made you realise that they were going on in his head too.

"That's the best place in the world for me."

"Then think of the beach and you'll see how you'll fall asleep."

"All right," he said and closed his eyes. And he lay still at last, breathing softly.

You had to fall asleep soon after, afraid that your strong heartbeat would be noticed when the silence fell. And it didn't take you long to fall asleep, unaware that Luke opened his eyes after a while. He spent the night sleepless, thinking of all the things that could go wrong and the only one that was right, you. He found comfort in running his hand through your hair, knowing that your exhaustion had taken you somewhere with sand or snow.

The room where the Iron Throne sat was clearly divided by those who liked the idea of Luke as heir and those who did not. Otto tried to keep your beloved Hoof out, but Rhaenyra insisted that he was a quiet beast and made the family more at ease against the men Vaemond had brought in. As soon as the screaming began, you felt the nervousness of Luke, who sought your gaze from time to time, and the fury of the animal, who snarled every time Vaemond raised his voice.

"What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess?" He turned to look at Rhaenyra, and Luke felt the urge to move closer to you even if he could not. "I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn't recognize it."

Then you allowed yourself to absently stroke the fingers of the hand he held loosely, and immediately noticed how he held it close, grateful for your small support. And speeches preceded until the arrival of the king, which left everyone in stony silence. He was the one with the best intentions, naming Luke the official heir, and Rhaenys supporting his decision. Though it meant Lucerys' marriage to Rhaena, it all seemed positive, but Vaemon didn't seem convinced. Burning Hoof could sense his anger.

"You... may run your house as you see fit... but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned... I will not see it ended on the account of this..."

"Say it." Those words escaped Daemon's lips, and your direwolf was already trembling beyond containment.

"Her children... are bastards! And she... is... a whore."

And then it happened, no guard dared to stop your animal, and in one bite, Vaemond lost his head right there. Maybe, and only maybe... you had let go of the leash just long enough for him to run away. You waited a short time to get in front of the few guards who had tried to approach to stop Hoof, and pushing him with your strength, you demanded that no one come near. Otto cried out to have it sacrificed, but the King never gave the order.

Between that bloody event and dinner, Luke appeared in the courtyard where you were bathing Hoof, and wordlessly helped you fill buckets with water. Clearly he was appalled.

"It wasn't your fault, you know." You told him after a while.

"Wasn't it? I'm not so sure," he replied, his soul on his feet.

"You do what you have to do. Vaemond didn't, he tried to usurp you, and he insulted you."

"But he has said truths..."

"But that they are true does not make it right. Leanor loved you, and so did Corlys..." and you loved him too, though that went without saying. Luke might notice hesitation in your eyes.

"Good thing there's you. I like it when you're around," he said at last.

The dinner was uncomfortable, and the strange peace was short-lived. Your place was between Baela and Luke, and from there you could see the engaged couple keeping you distracted. Baela was kind, as was Rhaena, and she noticed how your eyes never left Luke's profile.

"You're fond of the Prince, aren't you?" She asked you in a whisper.

"Lucerys and I are just friends..." you replied with the red in your face.

"I didn't say which prince, Lord Stark..." she smiled, knowing full well what she had discovered.

"Don't call me 'Lord Stark'...and well, Jace and I simply don't have that much in common."

"I'm just saying that your affection for Luke shows...and I can see that Hoof loves him too."

"Your sister will be happy with him, just like you are with Jace. And I'll be somewhere else, rejoicing in whatever you all achieve." That was all you could confess to him.

"Well, you may not see it, but you can tell Prince Lucerys doesn't want you to go very far away."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Baela..." You tensed at the seriousness of her words. You didn't want to get your hopes up.

"It's in the way he talks to you, and the way he looks at you. Maybe you don't notice it because you're too busy being as enthralled with him as he is with you."

That was the end of the conversation as Luke stepped in to ask you for wine. You poured it for him yourself and you could see out of the corner of your eye that his eyes were on you. And when the glass was full enough, Luke touched the hand resting on the table to let you know. And it stayed there for quite some time, gently and lovingly. You looked at it and Luke then hurriedly pushed it away, his face completely flushed. He avoided looking at you then, but when your eyes met, he could swear he saw something good in you, something that showed him that it felt good.

Things changed when the King left, the truce ended. And that's when Aemond stood up to put the violence back on the table. You could immediately feel the joy drain from Luke, expecting the worst, just as you did.

"Final tribute." And he fixed his gaze on Lucerys. "To the health of my nephews: Jace... Luke... and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise... hm... strong." Then you were ready to rise. "Come... let us drain our cups to these three... Strong boys.

"I dare you to say that again." You said without holding your breath. You walked up to him calmly.

"Why? 'Twas only a compliment." He looked at you then, with mockery in his voice. "Do you not think them Strong?"

Your fist went almost as fast as Burning Hoof that morning. And the screams came over you again, as Aemond soon pushed you to the ground. And Jace was quick to strike Aemond again, but Luke was heading for you when Aegon slammed him into the table. Then you realised you had made a mistake, for it was the very person you were trying to protect who ended up collaterally wounded. So you walked away as the guards pulled the Blacks away from the Greens.

Back in the privacy of your room, Luke lit a candle so he could see if the fall had bruised your side.

"I can't see anything," he reported.

"That's because there's nothing, are you okay?"

He didn't want to say anything, but only at the memory of that loud thud did your hands go to his face on their own. And carefully you ran your fingers along his jaw. And he let himself watch.

"I don't think you'll get anything...although it was a good blow."

"The roast chicken must have cushioned it," he joked, making you smile at last.

You let go, but Luke held your hand, keeping it in his. And no one spoke for a few seconds.

"I'm sorry I caused these...weird situations," you apologised, and Luke squeezed your hand affectionately.

"No, it's not your fault."

"But I have to be consistent with my honour. I didn't do the right thing, I was impulsive and I have to stick to the consequences."

"I do believe you did the right thing. Because we are friends, and friends defend and forgive each other. And you have defended me."

"Forgive?" You smiled at him, thinking it was a joke. "And what should I forgive you for, Luke?"

Luke shrugged, and you weren't fully aware when he brought his face close to yours, his nose brushing yours, and your eyes locking together. He kissed you sweetly and slowly and the world, for the third time that day, seemed to lose sound. The longed-for kiss felt like the most perfect thing in the world. You broke apart after ages.

"This for instance..." he whispered still close to your mouth.

"There is nothing, nothing, to forgive, Lucerys."

He kissed you again, and this time you could cling to him without fear, and it became a little dance around the room. And when your tiredness caught up with you, you lay in the same bed as the night before, only this time, Luke didn't wait for you to sleep before he stroked your hair.

"I never want you to leave. Please, my Lord Stark...don't ever leave."

"You know I don't need a white cloak to give you my loyalty and my protection."

"I know...I trust you. And that's why I like it when you're around. I like you."

"And I like being with you...because I like you. Ever since that first day on the beach."

He gave you one last kiss, and you let him rest on your chest. And that night you were the one who stayed up all night, your hand stroking Luke's curls, thinking about your luck and the things that will be better next to Luke. And you found something better than a dream when you looked down and saw him, resting with you.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Gene... My baby mama... I need... More alt!dream... Whatever you got fr. I just need more I'm.. I love him (probs not as much as you) but I love him

You're in luck bc I'm running on rip fuel for him. [ALSO I WROTE THIS BEFORE EVERYONE DID THE TECHWEAR STUFF FOR HIM I'M SORRY. I'LL GET IT IN NEXT TIME. I PINKY SWEAR.]

𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐃. ♘ 𝐚𝐥𝐭!𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: alt!Dreamwastaken x fm!reader

warnings: smut (18+), language, semi-public sex, light mentions of needles, domination

previous part ♘ fanart that i can't stop crying over

recommended listening: Hi Frequency by Vague002

The bus swayed slightly, your grip on the cool bar tightening to keep you from knocking into Clay as it turned. The dark city outside the windows bustled with sparkling lights, catching your eye every few seconds. As more people filed into the cramped space, Clay grabbed your hand, looping your arms around his waist and smugly grinning as you fought not to blush. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Will this be your first time in a parlor?” He asked, voice low and raspy as he whispered to you, not wanting to disturb the other members of society who just wanted to get home after a long day of work.

You nodded your head, making him chuckle. You knew it would be a different experience, mainly because it was taking place during the tattoo shops “after hours,” which Clay had only briefly explained the benefits of attending. “What are you getting done again?” You asked, moving so your hands were holding onto his arm instead, fingers brushing against the exposed skin peeking from beneath the cut-up shirt under his dark jacket.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t decide. Why don’t you pick?” He joshed, smirking at the way your eyebrows raised.

“I don’t want to be responsible for a mark on you,” you murmured, making him snort.

He hooked his fingers into the neckline of his shirt, stretching it down enough to reveal the litter of hickeys peppering his skin that you had left the night before. Your eyes widened as you swatted away his hand, looking around carefully in hopes that no one had seen them. He looped an arm around your shoulders, loving the fact that you were so worried about the crowd when all he wanted to do was fluster you.

He pressed his lips to your cheek, the warmth of his body encompassing you. “I love it when you get all blushy,” he teased. “Seriously though, you should pick. I won’t look at it if I don’t like it,” he snarked.

You groaned lightly. “Clay, come on.” He brushed his lips against yours.

“I trust you, sweetheart,” he cooed almost mockingly, his nose moving to press into your hair.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying your best to remember what was already on his body. You thought about the impending reality that whenever he saw the new tattoo, his mind would linger on you, and for some reason, heat traveled to your ears at that thought. “Um… what about a bird?” You asked, voice uneasy as if on eggshells.

His face twisted into a pleased smile. “A bird?” He repeated. You shrugged beneath his arm, making him chuckle. “I like that. George likes doing bird tattoos too, so you might just make his night,” he added, his praise and approval making your stomach fill with confidence. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your shoulder. Your mind began to forget what the two of you probably looked like to the other people as his scent invaded your senses. “Will you hold my hand while I’m in the chair?” He joked.

You scoffed. “Are you gonna cry?” You teased, making him chuckle.

“No, I’m just clingy,” he answered without skipping a beat. Your grin was hidden in the soft corduroy of his jacket.

The tattoo parlor was nothing like you had expected. The door was locked behind you after a bouncer let the two of you in, the man leading you two up a staircase and into a dimly lit room. The sound of heavy metal music and the buzz of tattoo guns swirled together, echoing off the dark brick walls. You slipped your hand into Clay’s as he talked to the receptionist, your eyes attempting to focus on one detail instead of letting the atmosphere overwhelm you.

The thick layer of smoke above your heads made you scoff, realizing it was coming from the opposite corner of the shop, a hookah lamp sitting on a coffee table like an outstretched octopus. The people around it seemed to be discussing something rather intense, their haircuts sharp and defining almost as if they stepped out of some kind of alternative fashion magazine. There were three tattoo artists, each with a white lamp focusing on their work as they carried on to the beat of the music.

Clay’s description of the place flashed into your mind, making you realize just how off the cards the parlor actually was. Clay took a toothpick from the receptionist’s desk, taking it between his white teeth before being waved down by a shorter man with dark hair across the floor. You followed closely behind him as Clay greeted the man; you quickly realizing that this was the famous George.

As Clay shrugged out of his jacket, George pulled out a binder, standing beside you as he flipped to a page with scattered drawings of different flight poses of birds. Your eyes drifted away from the page as Clay’s arms came into view. His old t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off was doing wonders for his biceps. Before you knew it, the two of you agreed on a mix of a few designs resembling a crow and Clay was laying on his back with his hand tucked behind his head. The spot he was filling was in the dead center of the flesh of his upper arm; a spot that George had grumbled about being awkward to reach, especially on someone as large as Clay.

You watched closely with curious eyes as George began to tattoo the design on Clay’s arm. Clay’s other hand was wrapped around the back of your elbow as you leaned on the chair at Clay’s side. His finger pads drew circles into your skin as you asked George about how he got into tattooing, making small talk here and there.

You liked George, mainly because he was quiet until he conjured up some kind of relentless backhanded comment. His tattoos revolved around a giant tree stretching from his back and down his arms. You wondered how long he had to sit for it and what the healing process was like. As he worked, his teeth played at his snake bite piercings, his dark eyes focused intently on the work in front of him.

Clay switched his toothpick to the other side of his mouth, his hand tightening around your arm with a small groan as George reached a sensitive spot. “Don’t be such a pussy,” he grumbled, continuing his work. He stopped, cleaning off some of the sprayed ink and filling a new cap with grey. “You have any work, pretty girl?” He asked you, voice low and charming.

You shook your head, earning a small tsk from him. “This is the closest she’s been to a tattoo gun,” Clay prided, making George sarcastically raise his eyes.

“A total virgin, huh?” He joked, winking at you. “Dream’s not corrupting you, is he?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek trying not to blush. “I’m trying,” Clay leered, smirking at you with his smug ego hinting at his lips.

George bit back a laugh. “Don’t get horny in my chair,” he muttered, eyes trained on the lines he was scaring into Clay. “Speaking of, I heard you got busted up by Punz, and by the looks of it… seems right,” he commented, gesturing to Clay’s eye that seemed to have started fading finally.

Clay let out a dry laugh. “His ribs are still healing,” you added, making George smirk with a shake of his head.

“You know what all that’s about right?” George asked you, taking his foot off the pedal to grab more paper towels from his desk. You looked up at Clay whose jaw tense as he chewed on the toothpick. After you shook your head, George continued. “Punz’s sister is stupidly in love with Dream,” he plopped back in his seat, swiveling his chair, and drawing a hand through his locks, revealing the bleached undersection. You had the fleeting mental image of him tying his hair back to reveal it.

He pulled on a new glove. “Madly in love, huh?” You pried, twisting your chair closer to Clay’s shoulder. Clay rolled his eyes at the fact as if he had been bugged about it for years. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend, Clay,” you teased, and he looked up at you with a tired expression, making you bite back a giggle.

After George finished, you followed Clay through the door, breathing in the fresh air; or as fresh as it could be in the midst of the city’s industrial square. Clay’s fingers knitted together with yours as he led you down an alleyway, flicking aside the toothpick. You chewed on your lip in anticipation before he pinned you against one of the walls. His devious grin sent shivers down your spine as you looked up at him.

You swallowed. “Shouldn’t you take it easy? Let your arm heal a bit?” You asked, voice coming out in a soft whisper as his lips pressed against your neck. “Won’t it hurt a bit with your ribs, too?” Your heart hammered in your chest at the fact that someone could turn the corner and catch the two of you.

He chuckled against your skin, slipping his hands beneath your skirt to grip your ass. “I like the pain,” he mused, tongue grazing against your skin as he pulled your hips against his. He kissed you hungrily as if not being able to press his body against yours for that hour was too much for him. His hand dropped to wrap around the back of your knee, moving his own leg to prop your thigh up against his hip as your hands dug into his hair.

The friction from his jeans made you moan into his mouth as his hand moved beneath your shirt, fingers fitting beneath your bra to palm your breast. He mumbled praises against your lips at how good you made him feel and how beautiful you were.

He turned you, your hands planting against the coarse brick as he ground his hips against you. You bit your lip, trying not to be loud enough to draw attention to the two of you, which seemed to be the last thing on Clay’s mind as you heard him unbuckle his belt behind you. You could practically picture his cocky grin, controlling eyes set as his hand gripped onto your hips, shoving your underwear to the side. “You were so much fun to show off tonight,” he chided darkly, lips brushing against your shoulder. “Such a good girl.”

As he pushed into you, one of his hands moved to knot into your hair. He moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him, tugging on your hair as he pulled your hips back against his. A low grunt tumbled from his lips as he set his rhythm, basking in the fact that you were secretly ready for him to ruin you as soon as you stepped into the parlor.

His fingers moved to wrap around your neck, the thought of his tattooed hand tightening around your pristine skin sent shivers through your body and heat flushing your cheeks, the tension in your body tightening. As he pressed you closer against the wall, you thought about the power he had over you; his height and build would make it easy for him to break you if he wanted, yet even as he pounded into you like he wanted you to forget your own name, the restraint he showed was enough to send you over the edge if you let yourself divulge in the thought.

Clay pulled out of you, only to turn you, your shoulders hitting the wall again with a soft thump as he hoisted you up ever so slightly, thrusting up into you as his hand dig into your thigh, the other resting against the brick beside your head. Your arms looped beneath his jacket, raking down his skin as you held onto him.

He groaned as your thighs tightened around him, making his hips stutter as if he were trying not to let himself finish too early. He dug is face into the crook of your neck, burying his teeth in your neck to stifle his grunts of your name. Your head tilted back against the brick, hand moving to tighten around the wrist that was beside your head for some kind of anchor.

His hand wrapped around your waist, driving himself deeper into you, brushing the part of you that needed him the most. You moaned, carding your fingers into his hair as he pressed his lips to yours roughly, wanting to taste your pleasure as it washed over you from his movements.

You tugged on his hair, making his cock throb inside of you, him finishing inside you with a low groan, his hips snapping against yours to stimulate a reaction from you. The feeling of his sloppy pleasure as his movements lost their rhythm sent your hips grinding against his, his teeth marking your shoulders as a reminder of his work on you.

Your toes curled, finally reaching your orgasm as he murmured dirty expressions of him ruining your pretty clothes against the wall. As he pulled out of you, your knees felt weak, threatening to buckle beneath you. You tried not to give off how much he had trashed you, but the warmth snaking down your thighs and your bliss-ridden mind proved otherwise.

Long story short, the bus ride home was rather interesting.

Dream Taglist: (follow this link to be added :))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @unstableye @tinyegg @behzzyboo @darphobic @twist3dtinkerbell @sparkletash @lindsayhunz @shroomieissmall @mintmochiii @clubfairy @aroyaldarknessblr @camerondiaz48104 @madsbbg @victory-is-here @rat-poisin

[jinkicake]

Periods Don’t Stop Nothing But A Sentence

Akaashi, Kageyama learn about the benefits of having sex while you’re on your period and offer their help. 

Akaashi Keiji x Reader

Kageyama Tobio x Reader

Anon,,, you know Kageyama makes me act up so this might be a little wild... I hope you like it!!!! I love writing for Akaashi,,,, Kageyama is so difficult but I also adore writing for him too. That is my baby! Bruh, not @ me being on my period and writing my feelings out through this bc I want Ushiten to double team me.

SMUT // NSFW

WC- 1,182

~~~

Akaashi Keiji

Allow me to be bold and state that Akaashi is a freak… you can’t convince me otherwise,,,,, It doesn’t really have anything to do with this but I don’t think I have ever said it before

Knowing his relatively calm and blunt personality, I don’t think Akaashi would care much that you’re on your period

He might have to warm up to the idea though, he would only do it if you wanted it or if he knew it would make you feel good

I think he would have to be convinced in the sense that you actually want it and you’re not just doing it to satisfy him,,,,, he’s selfless what can I say

“It’ll really help you feel better, (Y/N)?” He’d sound so skeptical and then look it up, scrolling through the multiple articles with tired eyes,,,,,,,

Akaashi would prepare everything beforehand, he would make sure it will all be clean before and after just to make you feel better and can go right to sleep after you’re done,,,,,,,, yeah Akaashi gonna fuck you to sleep!

He is doing this for you because he wants to take away some of the pain you are suffering from, and maybe it’ll help shorten your period! Thanks for letting Akaashi know that, period sex guide 101 !

Akaashi is going to act like he is doing this solely for you but you know….

Of course, he is getting something from it too!!! You know deep down he is riled up and excited

I feel like when he fucks you,,,, he is going to confess how hot he thinks the entire situation is HAHAHA It is kinda out of character, which makes it even more ideal~ 

Akaashi has you pressed against the shower wall, your chest is pinned against the cold tile while one of his hands is wrapped around your waist and the other is gripping your hip. His first initial thrusts are slow and shallow, dragging himself in and out of your tense walls to leave you blazing inside. His slender cock just barley brushes along your g-spot, leaving you speechless and unable to form a coherent thought.

“Keiji,” You whisper out before another loud moan takes over your voice. Akaashi kisses your shoulder, not letting up his slow pace, you can feel him smirking against your skin. His touch leaves a trail of fire in its wake and you press your cheek against the cold wall for relief, to cool down just a little bit.

“The way you are so weak for me,” Akaashi whispers in your ear, his voice lowering, the air he blows into your sensitive ear makes you thrust back against him. “is the hottest thing I have ever seen. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” He chuckles quietly and grits his teeth before bottoming out inside of you. The grip he has on your hip tightens and he forces you to grind down against him, your walls pulsate around him and Akaashi moans at the sensation. “Go at your own pace, pretty girl.”

You sway yourself on his length, moving your hips in circles as you desperately hold onto the wall. Akaashi removes the grip he has on your side and reaches up to grab the showerhead, putting it on the softest setting before bringing it down to your clit. The stream against such a sensitive spot makes you jolt and you glance at Akaashi, squeezing your thighs together in pleasure.

“It’s all yours my love, all for you, use it exactly the way you want.”

Kageyama Tobio

Pls… Kageyama is so clueless,,, I feel like he wouldn’t know shit about periods…. At the same time, he also has a sister so maybe he isn’t as clueless as I think???

I can imagine Kageyama walking in on you curled up into a ball because of cramps and he’s like “you good?” …. man would not have any clue why you were in so much pain

Then you tell him you’re on your period and Kageyama is like ‘oh’….. cue him to researching ways to help you feel better

He’d buy you a heating pad and warm foods because the internet told him to do so,,,, then he comes across an article talking about how orgasms can relieve your period pains and Kageyama is like 0.0

Because,,, he starts thinking about having sex with you and wow, now he has a boner

He continues to read the article and many others because when he brings it up with you, he doesn’t want to seem like a perv who is only suggesting it because he wants to get his dick wet!

I feel like Kageyama would send you the link via text message or simply slide you his phone with the page already pulled up,,,, I don’t think he has the nerve to straight out ask you

And you’re like….. uhhhhh and Kageyama is all red-faced with his lips pushed together in a little pout

“I want to help you with your…. pain” He motions his hand in-between your hips and can’t even find it in himself to say the word ‘period’ LMFAOOO

Kageyama does not care that you’re on your period, he is not scared of blood or grossed out in any way,,,,,, if he wants to fuck you and you want to fuck him, nothing can get in the way of it LOL

“T-Tobio,” You mewl and wiggle your hips, pressing your ass down into the mattress. “that feels so good.” Tears prick at the corner of your eyes and Kageyama swallows the groan that desperately wants to leave his lips. He glances at the towel and makes sure it is still in place so he can clean you up afterward. He doesn’t focus on it for long, not with the way you’re sucking him in like this, Kageyama can’t get over how tight you are.

“Relax, babe.” He grunts and dips his head, his hips stutter when he feels his knees go weak. “Is this too much?” Kageyama glances at you cautiously as he gently stimulates your clit. Mr.-PhD-in-period-sex-after-reading-four-articles remembers how sensitive the body can get during the monthly flow. He’s worried, Kageyama wants it to be pleasurable and not painful.

“Keep going Tobio, just like that, I’m okay.” You reassure him and arch your back at one of his particularly hard thrusts. Something about Kageyama being so attentive makes this experience that much better, it is like he is doing it solely for you and that control you have with him makes your knees weak. With shaky, wobbly legs you lift your bottom half up so you can bend one of your legs towards your chest. You aren’t able to hold the position long but at that moment Kageyama was able to thrust so deeply inside of you, you felt him in your guts.

“More, I need more Tobio!” You whine frustratedly as your walls convulse around him, your much-needed orgasm washes over you and can’t help but demand more. “Please, I want more."

Kageyama glances down at your pitiful eyes and leans forward to kiss your forehead before taking the same claim on your cheeks.

“Be patient baby, I’ll give you another. Relax for me, first."

~

Taglist.

@yams046 @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy @xhanjisungiex @xxashshs @chaosamu @angelkogane @augustdearly @kunimwuah  @lovellucy @osamuonigiri

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Fourth post for BC week 2020. Reader gives Nozel a shoulder massage. Enjoy the fluff! 🤗

Nozel was walking down the corridor towards his office after dinner to continue on his mounting paperwork. He felt tense, more so than usually. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to spend hours on end by his desk, but this time he could feel the tension getting to his muscles. But there was no other choice, it was something that needed to be completed and he couldn’t leave it for anyone else to do. After all, it was his duty as a captain to fulfil his own tasks and set an example for the rest of the squad.

As his steps echoed around him, he could feel his right shoulder pulling forward and pain shot through him. His entire arm was tense from the cramp which locked the right side of his torso. He halted in his place at the sudden shock, hunching forward as he grit his teeth. His brows twitched as he took a moment to take a deep breath and forced himself to stand upright again. Barely breathing he managed to get to his office and close the door, his arm spasming constantly.

He pushed his right shoulder back with his left arm, easing the pain. He curses his body failing him in silence, as his steps found their way to the desk. As he stopped forcing his arm back, it clenched forward once more, allowing agony to flood back in. He sat down and tilted his head up in his chair, trying to think of what to do. Considering if he should wrap his mercury around his torso to push his shoulder back and maybe rendering him hiss writing ability back. Or could he perhaps just pick up a pen with his mercury and write with that? Technically speaking Fuegoleon does just that, so it wasn’t out of the question.

There was a knock on the door and you emerged inside. “Hey, darling, there’s something I wanted to…” you trailed off as he looked at you with a slight shock. “Hm? You look like you got caught with something,” you chuckled as you closed the door and made your way to him. He shrugged. “Nothing of the sorts,” he said fully well knowing that you did catch him, even if it was just being caught having his muscles locked up. You knew that he was hiding something, and he knew that you knew, which made you giggle at his behaviour. “You can tell me, you know? What’s wrong?” You asked, standing next to him, your words tickling his ears. He shifted his eyes from you, thinking if he should just give in and tell you or keep his head. But you noticed his shoulder being pulled forward and how the movements of his arm seemed tense.

“I see…,” you said as if you were placing a warm blanket of acceptance over him. You placed your hands on his shoulder and gently pulled it back with one hand, as your other started kneading the muscles next to it. A new kind of wave of discomfort washed over him as you did that. He could feel his arm growing numb and warm simultaneously, and as your thumb hit a knot on his upper chest, he let out an involuntary groan. You smirked and let him sink into his chair as your hands caused shivers running through his body all the way to his feet. His consciousness started to drift away and a smile rose to his lips. “I’m not being too rough, am I?” He cracked open his eyes to look at you. “Don’t you dare stop,” he said softly, earning another giggle from you. “That’s my line, isn’t it?” He chuckled and said while closing his eyes again “I’ll borrow it.”

You knew that the Nozel, who was melting in your hands, was only known to you. You knew that with this treatment, exclusive to him, was something he would cherish and quite likely, want to have again, but his pride would keep him from asking it. Still, you made a mental note to remember to do this every now and then to him, even if it meant that he’d be put a bit back in his schedule. You quite liked this purring Nozel, and… you’d need to keep him in working order. A task you were more than happy to complete.

[jawnjendes]

take my hand and we’ll be alright | shawn mendes

university au, shawn x goth gf (is this a thing bc it should be)

~1k words

masterlist | series playlist

Days like these usually happen when a series of small annoyances occur and they make me wish I was home in California again. Then, I get very homesick and isolate myself in my dorm. I sink myself into whatever video game I'm fixated on and I ignore any obligations I may have.

Shawn hasn't seen me on a bad day yet. He hasn't seen me shut down completely, but I did warn him about it. If I was closed off now, wait until I'm playing Mario Kart for twelve hours because I don't want to deal with whatever is bothering me.

My boyfriend hasn't seen me on a bad day, but he might.

It started because I overslept and missed breakfast. Then, I was late for class and had to sit in the very front of the room. After that, people kept physically running into me across campus. I kept thinking that this wouldn't happen to me at the smaller and far less populated community college back home. I kept thinking of how no matter how late I slept at home, I would never miss a meal.

Once I got stomach cramps, I decided to call it quits and go back to the dorm. My brain grew foggy very quickly, so I grabbed my Hogwarts throw and dumped myself onto the couch in front of the TV. I grabbed my Switch controller and booted up Breath of the Wild. Nothing else mattered. Good thing I wasn't working today.

I knew time had passed when Stella walked through the front door. Must have been past four o'clock if she was already home. She immediately knew something was wrong because I typically didn't come home from class until six.

“Aww,” she mused as she walked past the couch and into her room. Stella had seen this before, and at this point she knew better than to try to get me out of the fog. However, she did let me know she would be ordering pizza in case I was hungry.

I didn't feel hungry. I didn't feel anything. I just kept navigating my chosen hero around the kingdom. He didn't speak that much either. It was a coping mechanism. At least this hero was still getting shit done in the midst of his silence. The only shit I got done was defeating another one of the major bosses.

A knock on the door came later. Stella was quick to emerge from her room to answer, talking about how hungry she was. But when I heard her open the door, she let out a surprised, “Oh… you're not pizza.”

“Sorry to disappoint. I'm looking for my girl,” a familiar voice replied.

Guess who forgot about her boyfriend.

Stella's voice perked up suddenly. “Look who's here! It's Shawn, the guy you've probably been ghosting all day!”

Yesterday or tomorrow, I might give a fuck. Today, I only focused on some wild breath.

“Did you guys fight or something?” Stella asked in a much lower voice. “She never talks when she gets like this.”

“No, she just stopped answering my texts this morning,” Shawn replied. “I wanted to see what happened, if everything’s okay. She’s not talking?”

Stella sighed. “She does that on days like these. She’ll just play video games or watch movies and ignore everything else. I think it’s an extreme form of self care or self destruction.” Then she spoke louder, probably at me. “See? I do remember the things you tell me!”

I saw her go into her room again, leaving Shawn with me, and me with my game. Then, there were footsteps behind the couch, but I kept my eyes on the game and my hands on the controller. From my peripherals, I saw Shawn’s tall figure settle down next to me. I could tell he was looking at me like I was going to break at any second.

“Hey, you.” His arm went across the cushions, reaching for my shoulder.

My body visibly tensed when I felt this touch. Slowly, Shawn retracted.

“Alright. Hands to myself, then.”

I continued my game, trying to forget that he was here. It was just me and the hero with the sword. No boyfriend today. No fucks to give today.

“Whatcha playing?” Shawn asked. “Is that… Zelda? With the sword?”

Fuck.

“That’s Link,” I corrected. “But yes, it’s a Zelda game.”

He perked up at my voice. “You’re talking!”

Not anymore.

“Have you been on the couch all day? What’s been going on?” Shawn persisted, only to receive my silence again.

I knew it was frustrating, but I really did not want to use my voice today. I wasn’t sure what would come out, and I wasn’t sure if I would be able to stop myself. Whatever that was threatening to burst out of me didn’t seem to have a stopping point.

“Well…” Shawn trailed off.

That was the word Stella would use when she gave up on me. I planned on staying alone all day anyway. I’ll apologize to Stella and Shawn tomorrow if they decide to not cut me out of their lives.

Shawn continued. “Just so you know, I’m gonna stay here until you’re ready. I don’t want you to be alone.”

Well that’s different. Normally, Stella would lend a loose ear. Luca would ignore me in return. My own parents just sent me to therapy. I was practically useless here, why would someone want to stay with me?

For the first time in six hours, I paused the game. I blinked a few times; My eyes were burning from staring at the TV for too long. I opened my mouth to speak, but I was internally startled by another knock on the door.

“Finally!” exclaimed Stella as she burst out of her room.

Unpaused.

~

“You know, I didn’t know you liked video games,” Shawn pointed out. “I’m learning a lot about you today. You’re really good at this game.”

I ditched Breath of the Wild for Super Smash Bros a couple of hours ago. I spent practically the entire time battling people online. Shawn didn’t ask to join in, saying he wasn’t a video game type of guy. He sat and watched, commenting on my fighting and cheering when I won.

He also filled me in on his day. He went to class, probably failed an English Lit test. He got a large order at the flower shop he works at and spent three hours arranging daisies. Had lunch with his mom. What a productive boy.

I let out an irritated squeak when my character got launched off the stage.

“Oohhh, very close,” Shawn said. “You’re still killing it.”

My character was barely revived when the last 5 seconds of the match were up. Shawn and I waited in silence for the winner to be announced. However, Shawn cheered and clapped when my hero with the sword showed up on the screen.

“Thirteen knockouts?” he said in disbelief. “That’s my girl!”

He didn’t see the small smile that had cracked my dull face.

“There’s a Smash tournament at this one barcade,” I spoke up. “I entered. It’s on Saturday, if you wanna come.”

“I’m there,” Shawn said without missing a beat. “So you’re practicing now, eh?”

“I am.”

Silence fell between us again, but the air wasn’t as foggy or tense anymore. I finally decided to close the game and set my controller aside. Then, with a small sigh, I extended my arm towards Shawn and held my hand out.

I still didn’t directly look at him, but I saw him smile from the side. He took my hand and squeezed.

“Thank you for staying with me,” I mumbled. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to stay. Wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Oh, cool. The dam is bursting again.

“Sometimes,” I began, “I get a little homesick…”

[fiat-maria]

a sweet melody your heart clings to

[AN: ok so this has been sitting in my drafts for like a month and i finally finished it. fun fact! St. Eli’s (the church’s name) is short for St. Eligius, the patron of clock-makers. bc, you know, time. grandfather clocks. all that. anyway, miles smoking cigarettes is a little nod to the atlanta boot. actually, a lot of things in this are!]

Fandom: Tuck Everlasting (Musical)

Pairing: Miles Tuck/Rose Tuck (Miles’s Wife), some Angus/Mae

Genre: Fluff, lowkey sad in hindsight but it’s all happiness in the moment

Word Count: 1,823

Warnings: brief mention of cigarettes and alcohol, but no use of them

Tags: @tuck-everlasting-shitposts

June 23, 1810. Miles slowly awoke to the sound of church bells and muffled conversation. The latter came as a surprise- it was rare for the rest of the Tuck house to awaken before he did. He began to rest his head on the pillow again for a moment, but a realization caused him to bolt upright: it was the day of his wedding. He flung the sheets aside and rushed downstairs. There, he was greeted by his brother, who was obscured by a tower of waffles. 

“You’re up awful early. You do realize that it’s only half past six?”

Miles took a seat, slightly confused.

“Then why are you up? You’re like Lazarus in the mornings. Dead man rising- and it’s a miracle when you do.” Jesse simply snorted in reply.

“Yeah, Ma figured that one out after nineteen years, so she made me get up ‘bout half an hour ago. She’s been up since five trying to take care of everything. I think she might be even more wound up about this than you- she even cleaned.” With his last statement, Jesse looked almost concerned for their mother.

Miles laughed as he poured his coffee with hands that shook from a cocktail of excitement and nervousness. Mae swept into the room like a tornado, an immaculately pressed suit draped over her arm. She pecked her older son on the cheek, then handed him the suit.  A bittersweet smile emerged on her lips.

“I can’t believe that this day has come already. Both of you, wash up and get dressed. We have to be at St. Eli’s for a quarter to nine, do you understand? Jesse, your dress clothes are on your bed- and comb your hair for once. Be sure to wear your grey shirt. Miles, try to be ready a bit early so I can make sure that everything is in place. Oh, and Jesse, once you’re dressed, no shooting, no eating, and no tree climbing. And try to make sure your father does the same.” She disappeared as quickly as she came, leaving her sons stunned. 

“Are you sure Ma doesn’t have a twin or something? She’s being organized.” Jesse asked in disbelief.

“You know, I could almost believe that. I’m going get dressed.” With that Miles hopped up from his chair, leaving his coffee cup half full. He became enveloped in his racing thoughts- so much that he nearly missed a step as he climbed the stairs. He began to smile as his fiancées new name echoed in his mind. “Rose Tuck” was absolute music to his ears. He could scarcely believe that in a few short hours, he would be calling her his wife. He washed his face, mentally repeating his vows. As he grabbed his razor, he was tempted to steal a sip from his father’s flask to still his shaking hands, but decided against it. He began to get dressed, wincing at the sight of his blue-grey suit jacket.  The summer heat was unforgiving, and even more so in the cramped church. He sighed, but gave a small smile- knowing this “sacrifice” was for his future wife made it far more tolerable. He was brought back to reality by the realization that, no, his boots weren’t fitting incorrectly because Jesse had grabbed the wrong pair, but instead because he was trying to shove his right boot on his left foot. He fixed his mistake then headed back downstairs for a “uniform check” from his mother. 

Seeing her from the top of the stairs, he descended slowly, then tapped her shoulder. 

“You look even prettier than usual, Ma.”

As she looked at her son, Mae felt tears begin to prick at her eyes as she beamed. Miles wrapped his mother in a hug, but she patted his arm gently and broke the embrace.

“Now, I don’t want you to get all wrinkled. Let me see...” She began tugging and adjusting almost everything he had on, trying to busy herself. Jesse gave his brother a knowing glance and they remembered their mother scrubbing their faces and straightening their clothes when they were little boys. Normally, Miles would insist that everything was fine, but he relented, knowing how important this day was to her. Once everything was to her standards, Mae stepped back and took in the bittersweet sight of her son before her. Jesse broke the silence, calling to her, “Ma, don’t worry, you’ve still got me around.” 

She laughed in spite of her worries and Miles took her hand. 

“Yep, he’s the spare,” he quipped.

“Hey!”

“Don’t start, you two. We need to leave soon. Jesse, go get your father.” Before Jesse could do so, Angus entered the living room. He patted Miles on the back and chuckled. 

“Goodness, it’s like I went back twenty years! Well, son, are you ready?”

Miles could only smile in response, his nerves starting to get to him.

Angus chuckled, seeing a reflection of himself as a young groom in Miles’s face.  “Yep, you’re my son through and through. We better get going, unless you want your bride getting as nervous as you are.”

“Angus, don’t scare him!” Mae tutted, swatting her husband on the shoulder.

“See, there’s a glimpse of the future!” Angus quipped, grabbing his wife’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

Miles headed towards the door, but felt a tug at his coat. Turning, he saw that the culprit was his mother.

“Let me fix your jacket, it’s crooked.” She smoothed her hands over the grey wool, stopping suddenly.

“Empty your pockets.”

Sheepishly, Miles pulled out a silver cigarette case.

“Ma, you know how tense all this is.” Mae raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips, unwavering. 

“Huh,” Jesse thought, “that’s where he gets that face from.”

“No son of mine is smoking in his good suit, and certainly not on his wedding day. You can have it back after the ceremony.” Her face softened a bit, a warm, knowing smile peeking through.

Miles sighed, smiling in return. He knew his mother well- this was a battle he’d never win.

“Yes, ma.”

•••

As he stood before the altar, Miles had three thoughts on his mind: how dreadfully hot this church was, how much he despised his heavy suit jacket, and why Rose had still not come down the aisle. He felt himself getting sick, perhaps because he was possibly overheating, but mostly because of the scenarios his mind had created to explain why he was still waiting. He had heard stories about runaway brides- Rose wouldn’t, would she? No, she’d never abandon him. But what if?

He tried to distract himself by looking at the familiar faces in the pews. His heart sank to his feet as he saw them whispering and shaking their heads. Surely they were talking about how foolish he looked, pitying him. (Little did he know, the old men were laughing at how much they saw their past selves in the young groom as their wives commented on the beautiful decorations that adorned the church.) He weakly mustered an attempt at a smile as he gave a small wave to the guests. As he did so, he calculated the likelihood of being murdered by his mother if he decided to make a run for it. 

Before he could start making a getaway plan, he heard a subtle creaking sound. Joy and relief overwhelmed him as the doors parted, and he felt his knees grow a bit week at the sight of his bride. A halo of apple and pear blossoms encircled her head, resting upon the gauzy veil that fluttered behind her. Her snowy gown, tied with a pale pink ribbon, obscured her feet and made her appear to glide down the aisle. The most beautiful thing of all was her radiant, loving smile. Miles felt as if his heart could burst- even waiting for a millennium would have been worth seeing Rose like this. 

The ceremony was a blur of happiness.  The perfume of the fruit blossoms and Rose’s bouquet, the heat, and the blessing that was his bride’s presence intoxicated him. He was drawn from his stupor by six long-awaited words: “You may now kiss the bride.” He gladly complied, pulling his wife- his wife! -into a euphoric kiss. He would have given her another, and another, and more after that had he not reminded himself of the smiling crowd of guests. The newlyweds made their way down the aisle arm-in-arm, thoughts only on each other. 

•••

After the ceremony, what seemed like the entire population of Treegap crammed into the parish hall. The newlyweds danced until their sore feet protested loudly enough to force them to sit. Guests swirled around them like clouds of dust, giving congratulations and advice. Countless old women pinched Rose’s cheeks, reciting rhymes to “predict” her marriage’s future. 

“Well, what does Mrs. Hammond say the future has in store for us?” Miles asked playfully as the copper-haired woman left. Neither one put much stock in old wives’ tales, but that didn’t stop them from finding them entertaining.

“According to her, a farmhouse and a little boy next April. Oh, and a very long, healthy life,” Rose replied with a grin as she took hold of Miles’s hand, rubbing her thumb over his ring.

“Mrs. Clarke is convinced that we’ll be raising twin girls in town by next summer- and all because Mrs. Tuck wore a white dress for a Saturday wedding.”  Miles pulled his bride a bit closer. She laughed and brushed some rice off of her husband’s jacket, then pointed behind him.

“If it isn’t Jesse and the Rogers girl,” she whispered, smirking.

Miles snorted. “Oh, Lucinda? Seems like he’s been trying to get her attention since our first day in Treegap.”

“No, not Lucinda. Agnes.” Miles turned around to see his brother being dragged into a dance by a giggling little girl, maybe six years old at most. He almost hollered with laughter at the sight, thoroughly enjoying the glare Jesse shot his way. The younger Tuck tried to be a good sport, even as the jig’s tempo increased. Miles followed the child’s lead, sweeping Rose into another dance.

He glanced over Rose’s shoulder, scanning the other couples in the crowded hall.  A flash of deep teal caught his eye, and he recognized the blur as his parents.  They seemed half their age, their dancing as lively as their laughter.  Their look of devotion that illuminated their faces just as brightly as the one the newlyweds shared. Miles pulled Rose closer, smiling as he imagined himself and his wife in his parent’s place twenty years from now. He nudged her and twirled her to share the sight, then whispered an echo of his father’s words from that morning.

“See, there’s a glimpse of the future.” Rose beamed in response, pressing a kiss to Miles’s lips.

“In that case, I’m looking forward to every minute.”