#I was gonna try to ink the whole thing

[cloudydayjoy]

It just comes so naturally to Peepers. Hater, on the other hand...

[blujayonthewing]

tornnn between lavender ink or high-shading orange ink or dark red innnnk

[iero]

Speaking of tattoos, I'm TRYING to talk myself out of getting a new tattoo when I go back to Pittsburgh in a month... On one hand, it's like therapy to me. On the other hand, I'm trying to save money...

[thehugmonster]

Reading this and realising that I've somehow convinced myself that I'd be completely unsuitable to parenthood because I'm quiet, don't talk a lot, find it difficult to act silly and goofy and playful in the way that lots of young children want you to play with them, and because I often find it too difficult to be strict with kids about harmless things and say no the way I would of it were an adult asking me the same things (eg. yes you can see my sketchbook, yes you can colour with me, yes you can watch YouTube with me (and use up all my data in the process), yes, I'll play with you even though I'm tired as long as you have fun, etc. and none of these things are considered "motherly" enough (by certain people in my family, but especially by my mother) for me to be a good mother. Also I have boundaries and want kids to grow up while I also respect my own boundaries (so they can see what it's like, coming from someone raised by a mother with little to no boundaries and a people pleaser) and this is considered to be a "boring, fun-spoiling" thing by above-mentioned people. And I somehow internalised that and thought that I'd be a bad mother because of it, and that it should be better for me to just not have kids at all than to be a "fun-spoiling and boring" mother, such that my kids would prefer having someone else mother them (like my mother, as she said so herself). And it's just. Completely fucking wrong??? Like!

Where are the introvert mothers who are still good mothers and the mothers with strong boundaries who don't lose their sense of self in having to take care of their kids and put their kids as the sun their world revolves around while simultaneously forgetting that they're a whole entire entity on their own with their own needs that has to be met too, the parents who work on their own trauma and don't project that onto their children, or have children as a retirement plan, or want to raise their kid into the best version of the person that kid will be and not for the purpose of providing emotional support and validation to the parent.

Like I'm sure they exist, just not around me. Which is probably why I believed this for so long. But! Being a good parent has got nothing to do with personality and everything to do with kindness and compassion! Aka a human trait, and a trait which I have an abundance of! (And sometimes I have too much of it, hence the need for strong boundaries lest I become too people-pleasy)

Which basically means that I can be a good mother if I ever want to be!!

Man, fuck all the bullshit I learned and internalized as a result of other people's preconceived notions about what is needed to be a good mother/parent!! I can be a good parent if I want to be, mother, take that! Stop telling me I'm failing/going to fail just because I'm not like you!

weird how people think nowadays there’s like…a very specific personality type you have to be to be a mother instead of capacity for motherhood being a default trait almost all of the female population possesses. should having a child just be a thing that someone does by default without considering it? no. but also having children is not something your personality makes you fundamentally unsuited for 9/10 times, mothers have all types of personalities, the most important traits for childraising are unselfishness and kindness and everyone should cultivate those in themselves no matter what anyway regardless of whether or not they have children.

this also applies to men but ive never seen anyone say "it’s okay for men not to be fathers because it wouldn’t make any sense to their personality".

[ceilidho]

prompt: blue collar worker ghost knocking reader up in a gas station bathroom on a whim. (nsfw, 2k)

-

Just to look over at him on the driver’s side drives you crazy.  

His buzz cut uncovered by a hood or balaclava is the new normal. It makes your blood rush to think of dragging your fingers across it, never long enough to really grip; heats you up faster than sitting by a fire or plunging into warm water. It’s the same new normal as the bristly, naked skin of his jaw, which flexes under scrutiny. He hadn’t gotten around to shaving earlier—rarely does these days as long as he can keep to a five o’clock shadow—and it makes you shiver when you think of the raw tenderness on your inner thighs, a consequence of that decision. 

These are the consequences of trust and loyalty. Not long ago, you wouldn’t have expected more than a glimpse of dark eyes behind a mask. 

The window is cracked open just enough to let the smoke from his cigarette out. Black fingerless gloves, nails bare and trimmed, dirt and ink trapped always in the grooves of his fingers. Eyes heavy lidded as always from poor sleep, shot nerves the takeaway from an old life of brittle thin sleep. His cortisol levels, to this day, must ride high in the bloodstream. You’d give anything to ease it at a touch, but that’s not how things work. 

“Keep lookin’ at me like that and we’re gonna have a problem,” Simon says when you glance over at him for the fifth time in as many minutes. 

“A problem?” you repeat. You’re not trying to be coy—you’re really not—but it comes out that way regardless. A bit breathlessly too, you realize with a small degree of embarrassment. You’ve got no shame these days. 

He grunts instead of answering. Your fists close over your thighs as you dry to concentrate on the road ahead of you instead of the persistent ache between your thighs. It’s not his fault that your pussy picked now of all times to get desperate. 

You peer over at him again out of the corner of your eye. 

“Bird,” he growls. Doesn’t even have to look over at you to know that you’re staring. Just another weird six sense from another life. It’s a warning though, one you hear loud and clear. 

“I didn’t say anything,” you say in a huff, turning your head fully away from him now to stare out the window. 

Only a handful of minutes tick by with you watching the brown patches of grass and the trees lining the motorway before you shift in your seat. Acutely aware of the wet spot between your legs, the way Simon’s fingers curl over the steering wheel loosely when he drives one handed, the smell of smoke on the upholstery, the grimy spots on the windshield where the wipers don’t reach, the moment he shifts and the weight of him makes the leather squeak. 

You peek over at him again.

He doesn’t bother signalling before veering into the rightmost lane, ignoring the furious honking from the car right behind you. You yelp when he takes the exit at a breakneck speed, fingers gripping the underside of your seat before whipping your head around to glare at him. 

“What’s the matter with you?” you scream, spine stiff from the sudden lane change. 

Simon doesn’t answer you, but you notice that the exit leads to a rest stop just off the motorway. It’s one of the less frequented ones—just a cluster of fast food restaurants and a gas station. He pulls into a parking space and practically slams on the brakes, making you jerk forward in your seat. Simon’s never been the most cautious driver, but this is a whole new level for him.

“Simon—Simon, what are you doing—” you hiss through clenched teeth, but he’s already up and out of the car, circling around to your side. 

Your heart goes hummingbird quick in your chest, stomach in knots. When you pant out a breath, it comes out shaky with nerves and excitement. You toy with the idea of pressing down on the child lock when he comes around but think the better of it. There’s already a twitch in his eye. 

You look up at him through your lashes when he opens the door and leans in to release your seatbelt. 

“Get out,” he orders, and yanks you out before you can reply. 

The walk to the gas station is tense and you struggle to keep up with him. He walks too fast and expects you to keep up, growling down at you to move it, but you drag your feet a little. It’s shameful how even that gets you worked up. 

“Are we gonna—?” you ask breathlessly, irritation seeping out of you. Simon doesn’t answer, just tightens his hand around your wrist. 

A chime above the door jingles when the two of you walk in, heading straight for the back. You catch the attendant staring at the two of you with open contempt and give a tight, embarrassed smile back. Simon doesn’t so much as glance over. You think he’d let the man call the cops if it came down to it. 

The gas station bathroom is one of the crummier bathrooms you’ve ever been in, but you hardly register that with how Simon hauls you up against the door he just slammed shut and kisses you within an inch of your life. His kisses are ever slick and wet, dangerous for you—drugging when he drags his tongue over yours and a hand cups your head to angle it just right. You want to give as good as you get, but it’s easy to let yourself get swept away and open your mouth to let him in because you feel his hunger. 

“That cunt never gets tired of me, does she?” Simon mumbles into your mouth. He steals your words from you when he slots his lips over yours again. Only gives you enough space to drag in a sharp breath. 

It’s in your best interest. The only words available to you are pathetic little pleas, desperate fingers digging into his jacket and trying to pull it off so you can feel the muscle underneath. Trying to get as close as possible to him, to wrap yourself around him. A needy, pitiful thing. 

“Poor thing,” he sighs, pulling away from your mouth and laughing when your lips chase after him. Standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him again and kiss, hands tugging him down by the back of his neck. “So horny that you nearly made me crash the fuckin’ car.”

“Couldn’t wait,” you whine, peppering his neck with kisses when he draws up to his full height, nearly dizzy now. “Sorrysorrysorry, please—please fuck me, Simon—please—”

“Not here, bird—want you to see how desperate you look.”

He drags you over to the other side of the bathroom and makes you stand on his boots and face the mirror covered in lipstick and sharpie and god knows what else—“c’mon, up you get”—while he rucks up your dress. The stark contrast between the two of you in the mirror makes you baulk. Like you haven’t slept with him before and lived to tell the tale. He’s all dark clothing and mountains for shoulders, mouth always set in a flat line of impatience that would make anyone else turn the other way. 

You, however, press yourself back into him. 

Rough fingers tug your panties to the side, not bothering to check if you’re wet. Assuming that you are—that you always are with him, eager to cant your hips and offer yourself up to him.

You try not to think about how your pelvis is already tilted towards him.

Simon holds your head up with a single hand under your chin, squishing your cheeks a little. “Fuckin’ hell…look at that,” he rasps, eyes almost black with lust. 

“You’re being mean,” you whine, pushing back against him and wiggling your hips. 

“Doesn’t matter how many times I give it to you—always whining for it. Cock hungry bird.”

It would hurt if you didn’t already know how much he wants you too, the deep rasp in his voice betraying an aching, insatiable hunger. An arm locks like a bar across your chest to hold you in place, his hand fitting over a breast just to have something to hold. He can tell you again and again that it’s just you, but you know that he wants it just as badly as you do. 

He reaches around to undo his pants and then you feel a familiar cock bully its way into you, a tight fit only eased by the wetness almost glistening on your inner thighs. He grunts when his cock pushes into you, the same hand reaching around to rest low on your stomach, pinkie brushing the top of your mound. 

The first thrust jostles you, forces your palms to slam down on the mirror even though the arm across your chest keeps you tight to his chest. It’s sticky under your fingers. You wince when you think of how much Purell you’ll need after this, but the thought melts away when he pulls his cock almost all the way out of you before slamming back in. 

“Yes, yes—fuck—” you gasp, staring at your reflection in the mirror. After a couple hours on the road, you’re not exactly in tiptop shape—sweaty and in need of a shower and coffee—but any timidity evaporates under Simon’s hot gaze. It eats you up. 

His jaw flexes with each thrust, eyes flitting between your tits bouncing under your dress and your face until it stays there, devouring you in a single heated look. Every time your shoes almost slip off his boots, he pulls you tighter into his chest; you couldn’t get out of his hold even if you wanted to. The thought makes the blood rush through your ears. 

“Almost need someone else jus’ to take care of you when I’m not around,” Simon growls. He gives your breast a rough squeeze, an admonishment. 

“No—no one else—” 

“Jus’ me then, pet? No one else can take care of this little cunt?”

You shake your head, maybe nod, maybe sob a bit. It’s hard to tell. The hand on your low belly grips into the flesh, holding you in place while he rails you over the sink. Impossible to look away from the man towering over you, a man you’ve let willingly bend you over and get between your thighs. You wouldn’t even if you could. He’s the summation of everything you’ve ever hoped for, packaged in the too big body of a gun for hire, riddled with nerve damage and a nasty temper. You wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.

Your eyes slip shut.

“Tell you what,” he breathes into your ear, the burr of his stubble rubbing your neck raw. “I’ll give you somethin’ else to keep you busy.” 

Your eyes spring wide open.

He shifts his stance and drives into you with renewed vigour, muffling your sounds with a hand over your mouth. The mirror fogs up through the gaps between his fingers, the room damper and stickier now than when you entered it. Tears build in the corners of your eyes. 

When he goes quiet, you know what’s about to happen. Your toes curl in your shoes when he exhales a ragged breath, gritting his teeth when he meets your eyes again in the mirror. Something about his gaze alone makes you come, like a deep press into your soul. The fat cock stretching you out is just a bonus. 

The come down is harsh, laboured breaths panting out of you until your chest finally settles, until it feels safe enough to move. You lower one foot from on top of his boot just for Simon’s arms to constrict even more, holding you fast to his chest. He can probably feel your heartbeat against his wrist. 

“Quit squirming,” he scolds, giving you a little warning squeeze.

“‘M sweaty,” you complain.

“We’ll towel off at home,” Simon says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t bitch.”

“I’m not bitching, I’m hot—” 

He lets you carp and moan about your inner thighs being covered in beard burn and come while straightening out your dress, pulling your panties back into place. He’s quicker with himself, doesn’t even bother grabbing a paper towel to wipe himself off before shoving his cock back into his pants and zipping up. When you ask him to hand you one, the look he gives you scorches you right to the bone. 

“Wait ‘till we get home,” he says, hand on your back when he unlocks the bathroom door.

“Like you aren’t gonna do it all over again the second we get there,” you mutter.

His smirk isn’t smug, but it’s a near thing.

[ennabear]

− ⌗ CATALINA ISLAND ⊹∿

cw: catalina!abby/mamabear!abby/loser!abby/sub!abby, yara mention (i’m sorry… we miss u babygirl), slight themes of homophobia but nothing too heavy, post-pillars timeline so abby has short hair and no muscles, abby falls first but reader falls harder, tribbing eventually… 🙏 (not proofread)

wc: 6.0k

quite vividly does abby remember the first time she saw you. bright overhead lights stabbed through her vision, gloved fingers and cold metal tools poked and prodded at her extremely burnt, extremely sensitive skin. but not you, you were gentle with her. speaking in a hushed voice that comforted the dull ache crawling up her head, hands keeping their distance from her sore and aching body.

she felt at ease. for the first time in… months? years? decades? suddenly the weight of previous events didn’t seem so heavy. she felt lighter, calmer, unafraid. but maybe it was just the morphine making her feel this way, because she passed back out minutes after having this epiphany.

“abby…” the boy whispered. she didn’t hear it, too deep in her slumber to respond.

“abbyyyyyy, wake up.” he pleaded. nudging her sides and arms in an attempt to wake her. still, her rest was uninterrupted.

“ABBY!” he finally shouted, yanking her braid in despair.

“j’sus christ, lev, wha’ddyou want?” she yawned. one benefit of living out at sea was that there were never any threats out there. other than the occasional storm, they were completely safe, and abby could let her guard down for the first time in what felt like forever.

“come look at the stars with me.” he demanded, pointing to the front of the boat.

“are you serious?” abby asked, somewhat furious she got woken up for this, but could she blame him? his childlike wonder provided a refreshing new perspective. and as abby always said, lev used to live under a rock, so she was always happy to introduce him to new things, although his lack of general knowledge sometimes startled her.

“come on, please?” he added. “i’ve never seen them so bright before, pleaseee?”

abby huffed and got up, grabbing her blanket and taking it with her, already predicting lev would be shivering in an instant. and she was right. somehow, in the middle of the pacific ocean, the sun beating down on them for 12 hours a day, lev was always cold.

she took a seat on the deck next to him, wrapping the blanket around the two of them as they stared up into the sky. it was beautiful, she had to admit. it was hard to see the stars this clearly on land, and seeing the whole galaxy like this was such a treasure. it never stopped, no buildings or mountains concealing the sky, it was just pure space for miles.

they were silent for a while, lev looking up at the night sky with wide eyes, and abby still trying to shake the sleepiness from her mind.

“…abby?” lev asked after a while.

“yeah?” she responded.

“do you believe in a god?”

she debated this for a while. what a tricky question. did she want to believe? yes. 1,000%. but did she believe? … did she? does she? will she?

“i’m not sure.” she says. “no, i guess not.”

“i do. and i think that’s where yara is right now.”

oh. abby’s face falls, it’s always tough to think about lev’s sister. sure, she died a hero, but she shouldn’t have. she was so young, so strong, so determined, intelligent, kind, strategic, resilient. abby never knew her very well, but she replays the conversation she had with yara quite often. she wishes so badly she could’ve saved her, but at the end of the day it’s permanent. a script written in ink, a final decision.

if there is a god, i swear i’m gonna kill him she thinks.

“do you see that star?” lev asks, pointing up to an extra luminescent star twinkling brighter than the rest of them. “i think that’s her.” he continues. “and she’s always with us.”

abby huffs a laugh and stands, returning back to bed. “i don’t believe in all that.”

lev has no choice but to chase after her if he wants the warmth of the blanket back, so he does. “maybe your dad is up there too.” he states truthfully, climbing into bed next to her. her arms wrap around him as she settles back into slumber. “maybe,” she says. “or maybe he’s just gone.”

“do you ever miss him?” lev asks.

“every day. more than anything.” and suddenly she’s asleep again.

“abby?”

“abby?” …..

“ABBY!” the voice asks again, and suddenly she’s wide awake. she’s not on the boat with lev anymore, instead she’s… in a hospital? or an office? somewhere too bright that smells too much of disinfectant.

“it was just a dream,” you soothe, shushing her pained whimpers and cries. “you can go back to sleep if you’d like.”

she looks over to you, one of the sweetest sights she’s ever seen. “i’ve seen you before.” she whispers.

you smile and pat her hands, abby is one of your favorite patients. being on narcotics for weeks makes for an easy client, all you really do is change her bandages and occasionally silence her night terrors. you’ve actually gotten to know her quite well from her… son? you still don’t know the full story on that, apparently she betrayed the entire washington liberation front to adopt him and his sister, and that she’s been a better caretaker to him than his biological mother ever has been. but you can see in her youthful features that she’s still young. too young to be a mother. and lev cringes at the thought of calling her mom.

“where am i?” she asks, voice gravelly from being asleep for so long.

“catalina island critical care unit.” you respond gently. “or, CICCU, but i don’t wanna confuse you with too many letters.”

“where’s lev?” she asks frantically, suddenly fully aware that she’s not in the same room as him right now.

“he’s okay. sleeping. it’s pretty late.”

“was i talking?” she asks, cringing at the thought of someone as perfect as you listening to her blabber in her sleep.

“no, not this time. but i always prefer your talking over your screaming.” you joke.

“what do i talk about?” she asks, although not sure she wants to hear the answer.

“lev mostly. sometimes others, usually ‘manny’ and ‘alice’.”

“oh.” she sighs. she feels so much better compared to the night she first saw you. was that when she arrived? whatever, she can’t remember anything other than you. her muscles aren’t sore anymore, her skin feels cooler and softer, finally.

“you should go back to sleep.” you say. “your body needs the rest, and i’m not really supposed to be talking to my patients anyways.”

she raises an eyebrow at this. “why’s that?”

“my social skills are no good, that’s why they put me on the night shift. i’m not sweet or gentle enough for daytime caretaking.”

blasphemy. you? not sweet or gentle? this is the first time in her whole life she’s felt truly comfortable, and it’s all because of you. she closes her eyes, willing herself to get more rest before she sees you again.

her daytime nurse fucking sucks. she’s an old lady with a scratchy voice, not deep and smooth like yours. and she’s mean. abby always catches her talking shit about other doctors at the hospital, and it’s not even normal stuff like gossip or personal experience and whatnot, she takes real jabs at the people in the community, coming for their looks and personalities. worst of all, the mean nurse hates you.

she always chatters on about how you can never do your job correctly, and apparently you’re wasting all of god’s honor by not being married yet. but it’s not until the mean nurse mentions “sleeping around with… females…” that she finally listens to what the mean nurse is saying, and she has a strong feeling she relates to you just fine.

abby sighs in relief when you walk in for your night shift. you catch this, giggling a little “what was that about?”

“i hate the other nurse.” she pouts, grimacing at the thought of seeing her again when dusk turns to dawn.

“who, dr. cosby?” you ask.

“yeah, if that’s her name.”

“i don’t like her either,” you admit. “but she’s the only one completely trained in full time caretaking.”

“do you have to work with her?” abby asks, growing slightly defensive over you. she’s gotten to know you over the past few days, too, and you’ve been able to fill in some of the gaps from the stories lev has told you.

“yeah, almost every day. she’s kinda like my boss since she’s training me, but she doesn’t pay me or anything… which kinda makes it worse. i feel like i deserve an extra paycheck for putting up with her.” you laugh.

abby still can’t get over your laugh, the sweet, deep giggles that seem to float out of you like bubbles. abby doesn’t realize this yet, but she has a huge crush on you.

“anyways, you’re supposed to be asleep, anderson.” you accuse, pointing a jokingly angry finger at her.

“yeah, yeah, i know.” she says, sighing deeply. “but i missed you, and i wanted to see you again after the mean nurse.”

“that’s sweet.” you start. “but if the mean nurse finds out you haven’t been sleeping because of me, i’m fired. and they’ll replace me with someone worse.”

abby laughs, pulling a pillow over her face to cover her giggles, and falls into another restful sleep after a few minutes.

she manages to survive a few more days with dr. cosby. or, the mean nurse, in the vocabulary the two of you share. the only thing that makes it bearable is knowing she’ll see you every night, and lev even visits her sometimes. tonight is different, though, because you don’t walk in at 9:00 pm when you’re regularly scheduled. dr. cosby does. abby groans audibly, she wishes she would’ve done it louder. well, she wishes she could scream in dr. cosby’s face, but she isn’t trying to get kicked out of the CICCU before she’s fully healed.

“usual nurse is out.” the mean nurse spits. ‘usual nurse’? so she can’t find the courtesy to learn your name?

“out where?” abby questions.

“on a… date.” she hisses.

oh shit, abby grins. a date with a woman i bet. dr. cosby isn’t happy about that.

and then it hits her.

oh shit… abby frowns. you’re on a date with someone else right now. you decided to spend the night with another woman, ditching your usual visits with abby. this hurts. her heart twists with jealousy, suddenly the room is spinning, and she has to turn and face the wall before dr. cosby can catch her weeping into her blanket like a little kid.

abby hasn’t seen you once since the night before your date. when the mean nurse comes back in the morning, she discharges abby and orders a soldier to escort her to the lodge she and lev are to share. so that’s it? she’s never gonna see you again? lev is out at school when she gets there, so abby has the whole place to herself until he gets back. she finds herself staring into the mirror for an unhealthy amount of time. christ, she looks different. her hair is short and choppy, although it’s gotten longer since she’s arrived. her muscles are almost completely gone. whatever the lack of training couldn’t remove, malnutrition withered away. she has scars all over her face and arms, her skin is still bumpy and blistered from the overexposure to the california sun. she looks… smaller? not tall and buff and scary anymore, but weak. fragile. she doesn’t look like abby. and that’s a terrifying thought.

she spends about an hour in the shower, scrubbing the hospital scent off of her skin and running her fingers through her short hair. she decides to spent the rest of the day orienting herself in this new space. she’s never lived in a real house before, and she feels like an alien trying to do so. lev finds her laying on the couch, studying the bumps and ridges in the ceiling.

“abby?” he calls from the doorway, slinging his backpack off of his shoulders. the poor kid almost cries when he sees her, out of excitement or fear, nobody knows. abby tries to pick him up as he throws himself at her body, but she can’t anymore. she doesn’t have the strength with how much she’s been weakening and how much lev has been growing. this crushes her even more, but she settles for a firm squeeze to the kid, and realizes how much her ribs do still hurt.

she doesn’t sleep well that night, it’s not the same without you. she misses your heavy voice lulling her to sleep and the euphoria she got from laughing with you. something deep and heavy settles in her stomach when she remembers you now spend your nights with someone else. she’s jealous. and she’s sad. overwhelmed from being in such a new place. and she misses you. and tonight when she sleeps, it’s dreamless and restless and leaves her even more exhausted.

you miss abby. you didn’t know the night you were gone would be the night she got discharged, and you wonder if this is a coincidence or if it’s some evil plan from dr. cosby. your date wasn’t even a date anyways. the girl you were meeting showed up to the diner, but left after a few minutes after saying she needed to freshen up. you saw her leave out of the back door. so you snacked on soggy fries and day-old fish until you got fed up and went home and cried into your pillow. was dr. cosby right? are you really not likable? to make matters worse, now that abby is gone you don’t have any more easy patients. you have to take care of a snappy old man who was in a boating accident. nobody can tell if he’s suffering from brain damage or if he’s just stupid, and it’s starting to drive you mad.

you miss abby. you miss watching her sleep, how her sweet face would contort into an expression of pure bliss as she finally had a peaceful dream, and how sometimes she would reach out and hold your hand for a few hours while she slept. she might be the only person on this whole island who likes you.

you two don't run into each other for about a month. the community you live in is small, but the whole island is divided into communities of about the same size. abby is sentenced to a desk job, something she'd never seen herself doing. she spends all day crunching numbers, scribbling things down on various documents and punching in even more symbols on her calculator. she's surprisingly good at it, her brain works efficiently and she's incredible at finding mistakes and working through them. lev teases her about becoming a nerd, but he's the one who voluntarily stays after school for tutoring, so she teases him right back.

you run into her right before one of your shifts, picking up a prescription from the pharmacy and dropping by her workplace to pick up some more documents. you freeze in your tracks when you see her, awkwardly blurting out an "abby! wow, uh... you look good."

and it's true. she looks better than good, she's glowing. her hair looks softer and fluffier now that it's not matted from the pillows, her skin is clearing up and restoring its natural color (which is a lot more peaceful than the burnt red it was), and she looks fuller. not nearly as big and muscular as she used to be, but she's started to gain some weight back and finally doesn't look tiny. abby notices you staring, taking in her new appearance. "thanks... so do you." she chuckles.

"i didn't know they cleared you to work." you stammer. actually, you didn't know anything about her ever since she was suddenly good to go, which you've decided is definitely dr. cosby's fault. so the two of you spend the rest of the night chatting and catching up with one another. she tells you about her job, her house, and how good lev is doing in school. you tell her about some of your newest patients, and when she asks about your date, you find pleasure in telling her that it was terrible. abby feels giddy after hearing this, not that she gets a kick out of your humiliation, but she's happy to know that you're single, and that you regret ditching her that night.

the time completely slips away from both of you, and before you know it you're an hour late for work. "shit!" you jump. "god, i'm sorry. i gotta go, i'm about to get fired!" you cry as you run down the hallway and out of the building. she laughs at this, tidying up her desk before clocking out and waking herself home. she sleeps very well that night, knowing that you're single and that you're willing to be late to work just to talk to her.

she greets you two days later with coffee outside of your office. "glad to see you didn't get fired." she jokes, you roll your eyes. "if i get written up one more time i'm done for." neither of your bosses are in today, so you finally have some peace to do your job without being yelled at. when you're not meeting with a patient, you let abby follow you around like a lost puppy, you notice how soft her hands have become when you grab them and tug her along next to you.

"thanks?" she mutters, cheeks sparkling with a pretty pink blush.

"oh, shit, i didn't mean to say that out loud." you cringe. "but it's true. they're very soft."

abby blushes impossibly more at this, so you like her hands? does that... mean anything? you're so forward with her it makes her a little dizzy, it's hard to keep up with your subtle flirtatious remarks when she can barely look at you without stuttering and tripping over herself. you're like a savior to her. you are her savior, if you didn't patch her up after her and lev had arrived, would she still be here? if she didn't get eaten alive by an infection she might've offed herself after the countless exhausting interactions with the mean nurse.

“how did you know how i take my coffee?” you ask suddenly. abby doesn’t know how to answer. well, she does, actually. but she’s too shy to say that sometimes she’d wake up and watch you while she was supposed to be sleeping. you’d place your coffee cup on her nightstand and flick on the lamp next to it, and then instantly stick your nose in a book. when she got done studying your face, she memorized the books you liked and the coffee you drank.

“if you’re stalking me, i won’t be upset.” you joke. abby laughs awkwardly, still calculating her answer in her mind.

“i dunno, i just know you, i guess.” she finally responds.

“fair, but now i feel bad because i don’t know how you take your coffee.” you frown. she chuckles, dismissing your concern.

“no, seriously. i feel like i barely know you, and i miss getting to know you ever since the mean nurse discharged you the night i was out.” you tell her. she can’t see where you’re going with this, so she just freezes and waits for you to make it obvious. “we should go out for coffee sometime. this weekend, maybe, if you’re free.”

are you asking her on a date? platonically or romantically? do you actually like her as much as she likes you? abby stares at the ground as she thinks about what to say again. “if you don’t want to, that’s okay.” you smile. “i won’t be offended.”

“i-” she starts, trying to speak deliberately as to not stumble over her words. “i do want to. that would be really great.”

you plant a kiss on her cheek as she turns to leave, heading to her own job instead of yours. she barely registers it, giggling and swatting you away before realizing that you kissed her. she halts her stroll when she finally processes it, reaching her fingers up to feel over the spot your lips pressed to. her cheeks turn beet red as she replays what happened, and fuck, she wants you to do it again. she debates running back into the hospital to beg for another kiss, but decides not to make a fool of herself. not today, at least.

her shift passes in what feels like forever. she wants to see you again, she wants it to be the weekend so badly. curse the calendar for deeming today a thursday, and curse your work schedule for not letting you go on a date with her now.

she clocks out excitedly as soon as her shift is over, practically jogging home to meet lev for dinner. they eat on the couch, watching some old dvd of a pre-breakout day cartoon. lev falls asleep as the show crawls on, so she has to face the disappointment of shaking him awake, wishing she still had the strength to pick him up. she watches as he waddles with all ten of his blankets to his bedroom, and then collects the dishes to scrub them off in the sink.

just as sleep is about to take her, she bolts awake with a great idea. shoving her shoes on, she jogs back out of the door, practically sprinting to the hospital to catch you before you clock in for the night. when you see her standing behind you, you jump backwards and yelp, almost knocking over a cart full of needles. “god, abby!” you curse. “you scared the shit outta me.”

“sorry…” she smiles sheepishly, a look you’ve grown to love.

“what are you doing here?” you question. “are you hurt?”

“no, i just wanted to see you. i couldn’t sleep, if that counts as an ailment.” she says, lying through her teeth. she was about to sleep soundly knowing your date was only in a few days.

“well, i’m glad to know you’re okay, but you really need to work on prioritizing your sleep.” you scold her, but you can’t help but melt at the dopey smile on her lips.

“yes, doctor.” she laughs, rolling her eyes. “are we still on for this weekend?”

“of course, if you’re not a zombie by the time we get to saturday.” you smile, nudging her with your elbow.

“alright, sorry,” she sighs theatrically. “i guess i’ll leave you alone now.”

“i’m sorry for kissing you on the cheek earlier.” you blurt out, although you probably should just let the moment be. “it was just… muscle memory i guess.”

“muscle memory?” she asks, dumbfounded.

“i dunno, sorry, it was definitely inappropriate. but you used to ask me for a small peck whenever i woke you up from your night terrors. i’d be surprised if you remember it, though. we had you on some pretty hefty meds.”

abby has always had trouble sleeping. as a kid, she’d have terrible nightmares that she couldn’t wake up from on her own. her dad would nudge her awake, and then soothe her back to sleep with a firm kiss on the cheek. it helped every time, and she slept like a baby knowing her dad would protect her. after he passed, the nightmares were more frequent, and there was no one to calm her down once she woke.

that must’ve been why she’d wake up screaming, eyes open yet unable to focus as you calmed her down to the best of your ability. you’d take her heart rate and blood pressure to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary, and then stroke her short hair while she fell back to sleep. she’d huff and kick for the first few minutes, and then reach out for your hand, guiding it to the apple of her cheek. you thought at first she wanted something cool against her burning skin, but once you moved your hand away, she demanded a kiss in a raspy and very delirious voice.

“no, it’s okay, really.” she assures you. “it’s a comfort thing i used to do with my dad. you don’t need to feel bad, i promise.”

“go to sleep, princess abby.” you demand again. “i’ll see you saturday.”

with a smirk, abby turns and walks back out the door she came in. she slips back through her front door as silently as she can, and falls asleep thinking about all the ways she’s embarrassed herself in front of you. how many more times can she do it? and how long until she cuts the shit and admits her feelings for you?

saturday comes quicker than abby would like. ever since that night, she couldn’t help but fret about your feelings toward her. did you really kiss her out of muscle memory, or did you genuinely want to? her heart warmed at the sweet gesture of you soothing her back to sleep on the nights her dreams were infiltrated with death and fear and abandonment, but did you do that with all of your patients?

she tried to ignore these thoughts as they came up, but it was nearly impossible to. she dressed herself in a beige sweater and a pair of jeans, tucking her hair behind her ears and accessorizing with a black hair clip. she looks gorgeous. it’s hard not to faint when you see her, the fluttering in your stomach keeping you on your feet.

the pair of you sit tucked away in a cafe booth, chatting away like time isn’t real. you’re surprised to learn that abby knows quite a bit about medicine, the knowledge coming from her father who was a doctor too. she tells you stories of her childhood, and you can see the resemblance between her and her dad, she treats lev just as well as her dad treated her. you don’t mention this, though, because you can tell she’s starting to tear up the more she talks about him.

when the conversation slows down, you decide to bite the bullet and ask her something that’s been on your mind. “abby? can i ask you something?”

“shoot.” she says.

“do you… like me?” you try. “i mean— i dunno. i’ve never really had friends before, not like you. i guess i just wanna know if you enjoy hanging out with me, or if you’re just doing this because i seem desperate.”

“of course i like you.” she affirms. “i’ve never met anyone as sweet or as gentle as you, and i’ve met a lot of people.”

“okay, cool. good. i like you too.” you say, reaching out to grab her hand that’s resting on the table. she smiles and squeezes your hand, looking deeply into your eyes.

“do you wanna get out of here?” you ask.

sand fills the holes in your shoes as the two of you stroll the beach hand in hand. abby still has that giddy feeling in her stomach, although she still can’t tell if you’re actually into her or if you just wanna be friends. you did mention just friends earlier, but you’re also holding her hand sweetly in yours.

you don’t know how to explain your feelings for abby. she’s such a sweet girl, and she’s a few years younger than you. you want her all to yourself, you want to take all of her pain and suffering away and start a family with her. you wanna run away with her and live in a small beach house together. but is that crazy? you’ve only known her for about four months at this point, how long is too long to wait? how long is too short? you don’t wanna overwhelm her, she just started a completely new life after escaping seattle where all of her friends and family were murdered in front of her. it’s obvious she’s still grieving, missing the family she created and the life she had.

when you reach the top of the hill, you sit and dangle your feet off of the mini cliff, looking out at the horizon painted in front of you. abby takes a seat next to you, wrapping both of her hands around yours. you smile at her, proud of how far she’s come ever since rolling in half-dead and practically fried. she looks human now, and she looks really… pretty.

“you flatter me too much.” she says with a shy smile.

you groan. jesus christ, you need to stop thinking out loud before it kills you.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to make things weird.” you cringe again.

“it’s not weird. i think you’re pretty too.”

your heart skips a beat at this. it’s too late, your habit of thinking out loud is about to kill you right now. because your lips are on abby’s and you’re kissing her with all of your might. her lips taste like honey and coffee, a sweet mix of flavors that you’ll crave for the rest of your life.

“is it weird that i just kissed my doctor?” she asks.

“i’m not your doctor. i’m the crazy person who’s job was to watch you sleep in case you had seizures or heart attacks.”

she giggles at this, leaning in to capture your lips in another sweet kiss. you both stay there until sunset, giggling and kissing and chatting like little kids in love.

to your dismay, you get up and leave as soon as the sunset fades, not wanting to be stranded at sea in pitch black darkness. abby walks you home, arm thrown over your shoulders. you frown when you reach your own cabin, not wanting to leave her. “can i see you tomorrow?” you ask, praying she’ll say yes.

“of course,” she says. “i’ll be here.”

it’s impossible for you to sleep after the incredible day you just had. you keep licking your lips in hope that the honey-coffee taste will still be lingering, but it’s not. tomorrow can’t come soon enough, and now you feel bad for teasing abby about her lack of sleep because you finally get it.

abby sleeps soundly tonight. all of her fears are dissolved floating away like ashes in the wind. she feels free. finally ready to start a new chapter of her life now that she’s escaped the tragedies from seattle and the torture from santa barbara.

you wake up bright and early the next morning, showering and cooking and cleaning and dressing yourself as efficiently as you can. the excitement of seeing her again fuels your motivation, but once your whole lodge is spotless, it’s hard to find something to do with your energy. you sigh in relief when abby knocks on your door ten minutes early, her brain must be in sync with yours.

as you open the door, you practically jump into her arms. she pulls you in for a big bear hug, seeming to have missed you just as much as you’ve missed her.

you have nothing planned, so you snack on a box of cookies while sitting in bed, staring out of the window that overlooks the ocean. it’s a gloomy day, but it’s nice to people watch and gossip about various things you’ve heard through the grapevine.

after a while you get tired, and abby lets you rest your head on her shoulder in case you wanna fall asleep. you don’t, though. no matter how heavy your eyelids get, you force yourself to enjoy every second that passes with her. well, there is something you wanna do with her, but you’re not too sure how she feels about it.

“abby? can i ask you another weird question?”

“always.” she laughs.

“do you wanna have sex with me?”

her heart thrums harder in her chest, and heat spreads from her cheeks to her ears.

“sorry, i shouldn’t ha—”

“yes.” she interrupts. “but, i— it’s been a while. i’m not very… i dunno…”

“if you don’t want to it’s fine.” you assure her. “it’s also fine if you wanna just lay there and let me do the work, i don’t mind.”

she nods at the second option, leaning back and throwing her shirt off while you do the same. her abdomen is less bloody and bruised than you remember, but you can still see her ribs and a few scars. she blushes when she catches you staring, leaning back timidly.

“don’t be nervous, abby. i’m a doctor, i’ve seen bodies. especially yours, and i think you’re beautiful.”

she blushes harder at this, but laughs and says “i thought you were a creepy nurse who watches people sleep, not a doctor.”

you giggle and shut her up with a kiss, reaching down to unbutton her jeans. “can i?” you ask.

“yes, please, fuck.”

as soon as you get her jeans down, you tug her boxers down too. sure you should wait, and it might be polite to engage in a little foreplay, but you’re craving her right now. her bush is curly in the center, right where is dripping wet, and she has a beautiful blonde happy trail that crawls all the way up to her belly button. she’s so hot you might need an oxygen tank.

“the quicker you stop staring and fuck me, the quicker we can get you that oxygen tank.” she laughs.

“oh god… i didn’t mean to say that. again.”

you tug your own underwear off and sit your cunt right on top of hers. abby intertwines her legs with yours, and the angle lets you slide across her perfectly. “jesus christ.” she moans, currently unable to control the noises she’s making.

she’s so sensitive it drives you mad. the last time she hooked up with anyone was more than a year ago, and ever since then she’s been prioritizing keeping herself alive over jacking off. whenever your clits bump, you feel a small, warm splash of her squirt against your cunt, and it makes you more aroused than you’ve ever been.

it gets very messy very quickly. your lips crash together in a heated and very wet kiss, and your cunts are creating a pile of slick that’s currently dripping down abby’s ass and making a puddle on the bed. you can’t tell if you’re dizzy because of your arousal, sleepiness, or love for her, but you feel like you’re on cloud nine.

abby cums after only a few minutes, and when she does she twitches and writhes and squeals so much you think you might have to sedate her. you keep grinding on her until you cum, which quickly overstimulates her even further until you’re almost positive she’s blacked out or something.

when you come down from your own high, you scoot yourself off of her. two clear strings of slick connect you to her, but eventually break and drip down onto the bed. she sighs when you lay next to her.

“was that good?” you ask.

“fuck. i think i need the oxygen mask more than you do.” she pants. you laugh and wrap your arms around her, ready to get a few minutes of cuddling in before you force your aftercare routine upon her.

she sighs. “thanks for taking care of me.”

“you know i’ll always take care of you, abby. right? just because i’m not your nurse anymore doesn’t mean i don’t love you anymore.”

“you love me?”

“ever since the day i met you.”

[ghostaholics]

𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 '𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓' 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

➸ PAIRING: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!Reader

➸ CHOKING: he doesn't squeeze that hard – just applies enough pressure the way you like it until that familiar glassy-eyed expression falls over your face, something lust-addled; he always uses his left arm, the one that's all tatted up, consists of intricate pieces he's collected over time until it's formed an elaborate black and white collage that’s inked into his skin – he enjoys seeing how you try to enclose two hands over the entirety of his muscled forearm but can't quite round off the circumference of it, not even trying to get him to pry his grip from your throat, but to keep him there and occasionally prompt him for a little bit more constriction if you need it (❝ Look so fuckin' good like this, don’t you love? ❞)

➸ FAVORITE POSITIONS: anything that can get him as deep inside you as possible, bottomed-out so that he can watch you take every thick inch of him which includes, but is not limited to

(1) mating press or any other variation of it – basically an aggressive 'missionary-style' that gives him the advantage of pile-driving into you, will try to ease your legs onto his shoulders for as long as you can handle it; also likes this because he can still see your eyes roll back in between thrusts when he just grinds into your cunt for a bit while he takes a break and plays with your clit (❝ Greedy cunt's just swallowin' me whole, innit? ❞)

(2) face-down, ass-up - has to pull on your hair a little so you bring your head up to make sure your mouth's not muffled by the pillow (he needs to hear each long, drawn-out moan he can get from you every time he brushes up against that special spot inside you); very primal and powerful, allows him the opportunity to see the arch of your back like this while he's gripping onto your hips for leverage but it's also just so fucking tight and deep (❝ You can take it all, can't you, sweetheart? Yeah, that's my girl. ❞)

➸ DIRTY TALK: typically more reserved in day-to-day conversation, had to work up to being vocal in the bedroom, which now consists of a diverse mixture of low groans, lots of swearing (fuck, shite, or whatever other word that accurately expresses everything he's feeling when he hasn't got a single coherent bloody thought at the moment), as well as any filth like

❝ Gotta stretch you out – work you open on my fingers… Y’know it’d be a shame to wreck this tight, little cunt before I’ve had my fill. ❞

❝ Can’t wait ‘til you milk every last drop of cum from my cock, love. ❞

❝ Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please.’ Let me hear you beg for it. ❞

❝ Christ, I’m gonna flood this fuckin’ cunt. ❞

❝ Do I look like I’m done? Lettin’ my cum leak out… I don’t think so sweetheart. Gotta fuck it back into you now. ❞

❝ Again – love, I'm not stopping until I get another one outta you. So be a good girl and fuckin' come for me. ❞

➸ SPITTING: has a few places he’s fond of; will lift up his mask just above his mouth in order to make it happen

(1) in your mouth, tongue held out in anticipation – he discovers that you’ve got a thing for spit play after a particularly hungry and feverish kiss that has him starving for you, swallowing down your moans, and when he pulls away there’s sort of a wet, glossy little sheen left behind on your lips that you run your tongue over; so, you ask him if he can spit in your mouth because you feel like you need more than just a kiss – he obliges because it reminds him of his cum on your tongue after he asks you where you want him to finish sometimes

(2) on your pussy – absolutely no valid reason for this other than the fact that he really likes rubbing his spit into your cunt and watching it mix with the slickness in between your legs just to make an even bigger mess than the one that’s already there

(3) in his hand, covering his palm – uses it to coat his cock with a few passes over the length of it with his fist, a few harsh tugs at his shaft and a smear of his precum at the head; doesn't really have to because you're wet enough (still wishes he had the opportunity to get you completely fucking soaked, except the circumstances won't allow it), but he's pressed for time, knows it won't be better than the natural lubrication of your own arousal and doesn't care too much since the idea of it makes him that much harder right before he slides on home into your cunt

➸ EATING YOU OUT: he loves it, needs it; heaven between your legs, groans whenever he gets a taste of you, can't resist grabbing handfuls of your ass to bring you impossibly closer to his mouth, tongue flattening and stroking and licking its way into your cunt as you rock down, hips rolling, squirming under the iron-clad grip he's got on your thighs – craves the hot slick rushing out of you, doesn't want to waste a single drop but can't control the way your orgasm liquefies into a sticky and clear wetness that paints his lips and his chin (❝ C’mere. Gonna have you make a mess on my face. ❞ )

➸ DACRYPHILIA: when you're wrought with overstimulation, so, so sensitive after he's ripped the first few orgasms from you – tears prick at the corner of your eyes, a stinging, burning sensation growing in your throat as you try to tamp it down until the first wayward drops of brackish water escape, rolling over your cheeks unsolicited not because the sex hurt but because it was too good and you can't sort out the knotted tangle of emotions you harbor for simon; he asks in a rough and hoarse voice if you're okay, brushes the tears away in a questioning gesture with scarred knuckles until you admit exactly what the cause is, which elicits a deep moan from him signaling that he might just give you another reason to cry

➸ TEASING: rubs the head of his cock against the entrance of your awaiting cunt, back and forth, slowly, just so he can hear you whining impatiently for him to put it in because you hate the feeling of being empty; maybe you should ask nicely, try being polite – it might be the solution to putting an end to your misery

[hoshifighting]

Hi. So I can't get this out of my head. I'm quite a new Seventeen fan. But the thing is I have tattoos. Quite a lot. I have a tiger on my upper back. I love it. And after discovering that Hoshi is a tiger lover I..... I think he'd really appreciate the tiger on my back during backshots. Yes. That's it. That's the thought. Thank you. I hope you have a great day.

hoshi with a reader who have a tiger-back-tattoo

WARNINGS: smut, backshots, mentions of hoshi being animalistic (?) 😭, biting

first time he catches a glimpse of that tattoo, he’s practically hypnotized. it’s like he’s never seen a back, much less one with a whole tiger etched across it. he’s gotta move your hair out of the way—like he can’t let a single strand block his view. his fingers trace along the ink like he’s reading some kind of ancient script, all slow and reverent, and he lets out this pleased growl, like it’s waking up something deep inside him.

“makes me wanna act up.” you feel him lean in, mouth brushing over your shoulder, then lower, planting open-mouthed kisses down your spine, lips following every curve and line of that tiger.

and when he’s got you in his favorite position—just the way he likes, you braced and leaning forward, tattoo in full view—that’s when he really comes to life. hands gripping your hips, tight, so you don't escape from the dick, pulling you back to meet every snap of his hips with this shameless, heady rhythm. his eyes are fixed on that tattoo like it’s the only thing he needs to see, teeth digging into his bottom lip like he’s trying not to go almost undomesticated right then and there.

his hand comes up, smoothing over your back, tracing the lines of the ink, like he’s honoring it. he’s got the dirtiest whispers in your ear too, telling you how you’re making him crazy, how every inch of you is making his cock 'drool', how he’s holding back just to keep it slow, make it last. his rhythm it’s something else. deep at first, but the second you let out a sound, a whimper, a plea, he’s gone. speeds up, hips snapping like craaaazy, something that only hoshi would do, tilting just right so you fall face first on the mattress. he’s got a hand on your shoulder, pressing down, keeping you steady, telling you how you’re his, how this tattoo’s only for him, how he’s gonna make you feel this all night, leave you marked inside and out. and by the end, he’s got you seeing stars, practically purring in your ear, fingers tracing the tattoo one last time. “that tiger might’ve woken up something in me, should i make one too?” he laughs, all honey-sweet

[saintslewis]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

pairing: tattoo artist!lewis hamilton x black fem!reader

summary: in which reader needs a good tattoo artist to help her vision come to life and lewis, a mutual friend, is recommended and is more than happy to help you out.

warnings: cussing, outfit descriptions, mentions of tattoo needles, mentions of w33d, smut (18+ mdni), pet names, just read 🫵🏽 (buckle in, frens) sorry for typos!

saint’s team radio 🎀: heyyyy! this spawned in my mind in the middle of the night and my super talented fren @mauvecherie-writes came up with this masterpiece. hope you all enjoy 🤭. (anon i hope this does your request justice!)

tags: @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @httpsserene @hopefulromantic1 @exotic-iris13 @perfecttrashface @non-stop-imagines @peyiswriting @purplelewlew @alika-4466 @arshiyuh @yeea-nah @louvrepool @motheroffae @lorarri

pls like, reblog and comment! 🫶🏽

pls note, the lady in the header does not represent the reader! 🫶🏽

“You’ve been sitting there thinking so hard, I could see steam comin’ out your head.” Marie laughed as she walked close to you with two mimosas in her hand, handing one to you. The get-together she occasionally hosts with all of your mutual friends was in full swing, everyone in different corners of the huge house.

Giving her an eye roll, you sipped on the drink before answering. “Girl, fuck you.” You cussed, hearing her laugh. Following close behind her was another one of your friends, Lani. Her kitten heels clacked against the tiled floor as she sat next to you on the light blue couch.

“What’s going on, what’s the tea?” She sipped on her drink and held onto it and she looked at you. “Well my lovely friends, I’ve been thinking about getting a back tattoo for a good minute now.” You replied, leaning back into your seat as your friends gasped with excitement.

Marie held your manicured hand in excitement, “Girl oh my god, it’s going to look so good on you!”. Lani then put her drink down then sat up to look at you properly. “What you gonna get? How big?” She asked.

“A red dragon maybe. Covering the whole thing, It’s been on my mind.” You answered, looking between your excited friends. “Anddd you’re wearing a backless dress right now! Y/n, you better get this damn tattoo.” Marie said, still very much holding onto your hand.

“Anddd it’s going to look great during backshots.” Lani smiled and that earned her a smack on her arm from you.

“Stop thinkin nasty. I just want it because I think it’ll look good with all those backless clothes I got.” You admitted although the thought of it made your skin a little warm. “So what’s stopping you from getting it, bae? ‘Cause I’m excited like I’m getting it.” Marie gushed. “Can’t find a good artist around here who caters red ink for black people.” You shrugged.

It was tough trying to find tattoo artists in your city, much less those who work well with red ink. Most were extremely pricey, others worked with complicated pieces and only wanted pieces like portraits or lions or they just left you on read after attempting to make an appointment.

A moment passed by and Lani smacked your leg repeatedly as she came to a realisation. The look of unspoken excitement travelled between your friends and soon enough, you knew they were plotting something.

“Y/n, oh my goodness you genius!” Marie exclaimed and that made your eyebrows furrow even more with confusion.

“Okay, I am very confused by what is happening so I’m just going to grab another snack.” You voiced out and you couldn’t even move because both women held you down as they smiled like maniacs.

Lani nodded first then turned her head to look at you. “Okay okay. Y/n, we’ve got the perfect artist for you. D’you remember Lewis?” She grinned and you tried to think about it fully.

Lewis, Lewis…oh god, that Lewis. The incredibly beautiful man you met through your clearly unhinged friends at a housewarming party two years ago. He was that type of distant crush that would never go away even if you tried and it didn’t help that he was the quiet type who would hang out with your large friend group every now and then.

“…uh huh. What about him?” You replied, hoping that no one heard your voice almost falter at the mention of him. “He’s a tattoo artist! I don’t know how I forgot but that man just keeps to himself for real.” Lani chuckled before continuing. “But yeah anyways, he could do it for you!”

Never in a million years would you think that he would be a tattoo artist and funnily enough, his arm is filled with them. You actually had no clue what he did, always curious whenever you saw the G Wagon that he would hop into after any get-together was over.

“I don’t know, you guys. I’d have to talk to him first about everything and that seems like a lot. I don’t wanna bother the guy to squeeze in someone who has no clue what they’re doing-” You stopped your ramble once you realised that your friends were just staring at you.

“Girl, you never ramble like that unless you find a dude cute.” Marie teased as she watched you avoid eye contact with her. Smacking your lips, you shook your head and tried to appear like this news didn’t phase you.

So focused on the subject at hand, you didn’t notice that Lani was gone. Finally hearing the familiar clack of her heels, you looked up and your breath hitched. You had just denied even thinking about him but there stood Lewis, quietly chewing on his gum with a glint in his eyes as he looked at you.

With your hand still in Marie’s hold, she squeezed it as she stood up and moved to stand next to Lani. “Lewis, you remember Y/n, right? An absolute beaut.” Lani started. “Anywho, my good sis wants a tattoo and obviously, you came to my mind. Aight, see y’all later.” She continued and just like that, her and Marie disappeared.

“I’m sorry for them, they can get a lil crazy.” You spoke, offering your hand to him and he gently shook your hand with both of his large ones. “They’ve also had some green gummies so I get it.” He smiled and that alone, just sent you to another dimension.

He’s British. You made sure to make little notes along the way.

And he dressed incredibly well. Sleeveless white shirt, white cargos, air force ones and his huge tattooed arms on display. The jewellery making the outfit look all the more good.

It also didn’t help that your dress was the same shade of white as his entire outfit.

“Although we’ve briefly met before, I’m Lewis. Nice seeing you again.” He introduced himself, not breaking any eye contact with you and he could tell you weren’t expecting to see him. “Y/n. I’m sure those two already told you why they dragged you here,” You nervously smiled. “Didn’t wanna waste your time with my questions.”

“You’re good, love. Wanna sit down and talk about it?” Lewis asked, pointing to the couch you were just sitting on. This area of the house wasn’t crowded so you could hear each other clearly.

The nickname he called you by threw you into a loop, nodding at him as a response because you couldn’t come up with one on the spot.

The two of you went on to speak on everything revolving around the tattoo. Your experiences trying to find a good enough artist that you wanted to feel comfortable with, the placement of it and the design. There were all types of jokes thrown into the conversation, making you feel comfortable. He also listened, nodding and replying after you spoke.

“So I’ve got two options if I decide to chicken out of the dragon one.” You said, twiddling your fingers as you still avoided eye contact with Lewis. “Alright even though my favourite would have to be the dragon.” He winked, chewing his gum.

You flushed hearing him say that. You couldn’t imagine being naked in front of him, letting your body be a canvas he gets to work on. Of course you would like to be naked in another way but that couldn’t happen. He definitely has to have someone in his life. Would he though if he just winked at you? Or was he just playing with you because he can sense you’re shy-

“Y/n, love, you still with me?” Lewis worried a tad bit as he watched you zone out on him. Shaking yourself out of it, you were grounded by his eyes boring into yours. Clearing your throat slightly, you asked a different question. “Uh if I do go ahead with it, where will we be?”

“Right now, my studio is under renovations so I’ve got my home studio. Hope that’s okay with you, anything to help you be comfortable.” He reassured, sitting back and the sight of him just sitting so confidently had you squirming in your seat, having to cross your legs.

“That’s fine,” your voice reaching an octave higher than normal. “What was the other design, sweetie? Haven’t done a tattoo on a client in a while so I’m grateful that I’ll be the one who gets to work on this.” Lewis mentioned, watching you lose your train of thought everytime you two locked eyes and he found it quite endearing.

“…A lower back tattoo, preferably a word or a heart.” You muttered, Lani’s words running through your mind. Stop, you can’t think about that right now. “That’s a nice one.” He commented, tilting his head and admired your shyness.

Ever since he laid his eyes on you, Lewis had made it his mission to find a way to get with you. He was in awe everytime you would show at one of the many games nights or celebrations, looking effortlessly beautiful yet timid as well. He hadn’t known if you were single until a mutual friend mentioned you and blind dates in the same sentence.

Lewis thanked the universe for giving him the chance to do his favourite thing with the woman he had fancied.

After a bit more conversation, you had managed to get his number and bid goodbye to him, a very warm hug from him to you, and you hurried to your car to take several deep breaths afterwards. After not being intimate with anyone for a long while, you were embarrassed that a single conversation left you in a puddle with an all too familiar feeling in your stomach.

Consoling yourself whilst driving, you grew excited for the week ahead for the tattoo, of course.

-

Darting your eyes between your phone and the house you were currently parked outside of, you felt confused although your gps led you to the correct address.

“Sis c’mon, he wore a cartier bracelet like it was nothing.” You joked to yourself, trying to keep yourself at ease with the fact that your entire back will be filled with ink very soon.

Clearly the camera right by the gate was able to see you and the gate opened up for you. Finally parking next to the car you were familiar with, you fixed up your outfit. You tried walking to the front door with an excruciatingly slow pace to try and calm your nerves but as soon as Lewis opened the door, that all went out the window. His gaze was piercing as he leaned on the door frame, watching you twiddle with your nails and walk over to him with the same shy energy you held the other day.

“You can’t be lookin at people like that, Lewis.” You spoke with a slight smile, being welcomed into his large home. “Like how, Y/n?” He smiled as he closed the front door behind him, admiring every inch of your body.

“Like you wanna eat me alive.” You chuckled, choosing to not feel his glare on you after you said that. He chuckled as well, deciding to not comment and wanting you to be comfortable first.

“Anything you need before we start, love? You seem nervous.” Lewis asked, placing his hand on your back and lead you towards his home tattoo studio. An incredibly large room with decor that screamed Architectural Digest, the tattoo chair stitched with his initials ‘LH’ and a candle was lit, a ocean-like scent wafting through the air. You had told him that you liked that candle scent all those days ago and the fact that he remembered made you blush.

Low rnb music was playing and a calm atmosphere washed over you as soon as you entered the room.

“It’s my first big tattoo, of course i’m nervous about it.” You replied with a sigh, plopping down on the soft couch and placed your phone on the record player stand.

Playing with the band of your shorts, you knew he was looking at you from the doorway. “Also it’s a lil silly but I don’t even know if this shit will look good on me, y’know? I wanted this but i guess it’s just the nerves.” You continued.

Not even hearing him move from his spot, you lifted your head to see him crouched down in front of you. His tattooed hands landed on your thighs without breaking eye contact with you. “Can I tell you what I think?” He asked. All you could do was nod. He hadn’t touched you in the way you wanted but in an instant, you could feel a puddle forming.

“On you, it will be the best piece I’ve done because it was made to sit on your body. A canvas that people will get to admire, a canvas that you’ve given me the honour to work on.” He continued, hands barely moving from your legs.

Taking a breath, you finally got the strength to respond to what he said. “Are you always this poetic to your clients?” You tried to joke but his eyes were glued to yours, the same way he looked at you at the housewarming.

“It took me a while to garner the confidence to talk to you, to just be in your presence. Every time I had the luck to see you, I would cherish it because we wouldn’t be in the same room all the time. I want the time we have here to be meaningful. And before you make that adorable timid face, yes, I have always found you attractive.” He spoke and you were just speechless.

“Are you serious?” You managed to speak, your voice becoming softer the more you accepted everything he was saying.

“Would you like me to show you how serious I am about you?” Lewis shifted his legs so that he could kneel in front of you. You could see the truth in his eyes as he spoke, darting between your eyes and lips.

You whimpered and you couldn’t control it, his hold on you was so strong.

“I need your words, princess.”

“Please. Please show me, Lewis.” You whined out.

That was all it took for him to begin to reach for the band of your shorts but you put your hands on his to stop. His eyebrows furrowed and before he spoke, you went for it. “Kiss me.” You breathed out. Lewis stood to his full height then sat on the couch next to you, pulling you onto his lap.

You made the first move and leaned in, your lips moving together in sync as he kissed you passionately. His hand held the back of your neck, bringing even closer while his other hand trailed down your arched back.

Your whimpers echoed throughout his home studio as he pulled away from the kiss, watching you try and grind to get some sort of pleasure in. Gently putting his hands on your waist, he guided you and you gasped as you felt his length, long and hard. Just waiting for you.

It felt unbearable, a knot in your stomach needed to be released and you threw you head back, just wanting to wash over the arousal. Lewis watched how you pleasured yourself on him, your denim clothes restricting the both of you from connecting skin to skin. “You enjoying yourself, darling?” He licked his lips, looking up at you with dark eyes clouded with lust.

You wanted to respond, desperately, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. The warmth from the two of you became stronger, him leaning up to begin peppering kisses on your necks and not wanting to create any marks just yet. “..Yes.” You managed to breathe out and you loved the feeling of his large hands roaming around your body, not able to get enough of you.

Lewis held your hips firmly, halting your movement and that made you want to cry out of not getting a release. “Lewis, please.” You whined and he chuckled against your neck. “Take your clothes off and lie down, princess.” He said, looking at your cute angry face with a slight pout evident.

Instead of doing what he said, you just looked at him in the eyes clearly wanting to start a challenge. However, he knew his gaze made you weak. It was one of his many charms. All he had to do was slightly tilt his head and it had you standing up and slowly taking your clothes off, him following suit. You oggled at him, his tattoos gracefully placed on his skin making your mouth water.

With you laid down on the couch, he crawled up your body and crashed his lips into yours. He held your neck so gently as he kissed your jawline then your neck all the way down to where you needed him the most. Lewis laid between your legs to admire your clothed core, giving praise to your thighs and ass as he planted a kiss on your inner thighs.

“Oh shit…” you gasped as he started licking all around your clit until he planted his mouth on it, your moans bouncing off the walls as Lewis devoured you like you were his dinner. Sticking his tongue in and fucking you with it was really the cherry on top, your hand flying to his head to keep it in place and you ground into his face.

Screaming as he entered two fingers in your pussy, you felt a tear slide down at the immense pleasure he was giving you. It had been a very long time since someone had gone down on you but never had you orgasmed from head before. Until now.

Lewis licked you clean as he climbed up and kissed you so that you could taste yourself. You could tell he wanted to say something but you reached your hand to palm him through his pants, watching the different expressions on his face. Slapping the side of your thigh, he held your face.

“Bend over for me, princess.” With a smile on his face and you knew you were going to be here a while.

-

The buzzing of the tattoo gun sounded out through the room, Lewis wiped the dripping ink from his canvas. He was doing the last bit of work to fully complete his piece on you, the ink contrasting beautifully with your skin.

Finally switching it off and clearing his station to prepare for the clean up and to place the plastic cover on, he lightly smacked your ass to wake you up. “Darling, we’re finally done.” Lewis softly said, already focused on the clean up.

You hummed, “That’s amazing, baby. Thank you.” You spoke all drowsy from the nap you took earlier and the buzzing feeling of your body even after the tattooing gun isn’t touching your skin. Not to mention the sativa joint you smoked together before the final session.

You and Lewis kept this arrangement going, him saying that once he finished his artwork on your back, he’d take you on a date to wherever you want to go and you agreed. The mutual crush you had on each other transcended to a different level, becoming almost domestic every moment you spent together.

“Can I see it?” You asked, rising up from the chair and you looked at him while batting your eyelashes. “Of course you can, princess.” Lewis leaned down to peck your lips then led you to the mirror. You gasped when you saw your dream tattoo, sitting perfectly on your back and your mind was running wild with thoughts already.

“The backshots with this tattoo are going to be amazing.” You giggled and he just rolled his eyes. “Okay that’s enough weed for you, baby.” Lewis chuckled then lightly tapped your ass.

“You were thinking it though!”

saint’s notes 🪩: mind you this has been sitting here since feb 🧍🏽‍♀️. this is dedicated to @mauvecherie-writes , thank you for your patience fren 🤭 and yes the monaco fit made me go feral.

[moonstruckme]

Hey! I know you wanted more requests for people besides the marauders so you can do this for anyone you like but maybe reader who is just soooo in love with them that anytime they do something nice for her she starts crying? Like happy tears because she's just so in love and she doesn't know how to express that. If you don't want to that's fine!

Hi, thank you! I decided to go with Sirius anyway because I felt like he'd be the most fun. (This is gonna be me btw, the first time I experience romantic love there's no way I'm gonna be able to handle it)

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“Do you think it’s a bad idea to show off my tattoos on the first day?”

“Mm, maybe,” you muse, looking longingly at the way Sirius’ inked-up forearms pair with his black dress shirt. “I feel like after the interview it won’t matter, but today you probably want to present your straightest-laced self.” 

“Gross,” he grunts, but starts rolling down his sleeves. 

It’s a rare sight, Sirius up before noon, but his job interview is scheduled for ten and he doesn’t feel in a position to negotiate. The frail morning light bounces off the full length mirror he’s standing in front of and illuminates the room as he purses his lips and starts unbuttoning his shirt. You’re lying on the bed watching him get ready, trying your very best not to look enthralled and wanton (it is a constant effort). 

“My most gorgeous, radiant angel, could I ask you for a favor?” 

You grin, warmth flooding your chest. “You don’t have to butter me up. What is it?” 

“Grab the bigger version of this shirt? I think I may want a baggier tuck.” 

You hum and get up, padding into the closet. Sirius’ clothes are all strewn over the floor and dresser, but miraculously the shirt you’re looking for is on a hanger. As you reach for it, you nearly trip over a small box on the floor. It looks like the shell of something Sirius was sent in the mail, plain cardboard with the shipping label torn off. You bring it back out with you. 

“Thanks, lovely,” Sirius says as he takes the hanger from you. 

“No problem,” you reply. “Want me to recycle this for you?” 

He turns to look, blinks, then looks harder. “No. Where’d you find that?” 

“On the floor.” 

“Must have fallen off its shelf.” He discards the smaller shirt on the bed and starts doing up the buttons of this new one, smirking when your eyes track the deft movements of his fingers. “Don’t throw it out, it’s got important stuff in it.” 

You weigh the box in your hand. “It feels empty.” 

“It’s got important, lightweight stuff in it.” 

You eye the barely-open flap of the box, intrigued. “Can I look inside?” 

You think you catch a flicker of hesitation across Sirius’ features, but it’s quickly schooled into insouciance. A vine of nervousness winds around your gut. “Sure,” he says, “go ahead.” 

You look at him a bit longer before slowly peeling back the cardboard flap. Inside is a mishmash of things. Paper, mostly, but you recognize one item immediately. It’s a flimsy, neon orange paper wristband, a venue’s name stamped haphazardly onto one side. At the first concert you’d gone to together, Sirius had griped endlessly about how the orange contrasted with his outfit horribly and brought out all the ugliest hues of his skin (there aren’t any, but you were too timid to tell him that at the time). He’d seemed desperate to be rid of it. But here it is, carefully clipped off instead of torn and preserved like something special. Something warm and weighty blooms in your chest. 

You take out one of the pieces of paper, unfolding it. It’s your handwriting, thoughtless scribbling you’d left for him to find on the fridge one day after you’d left for work. Have a great day, love you. 

Another is a bar napkin, containing a whole back-and-forth exchange between you and Sirius from the first time you’d met his friends. You’d kept passing it to him under the table, asking Do they like me? Are they just being nice? Is Remus always so frowny? and he’d passed it back saying Yes. Yes, they love you. James is this nice to everyone, but I can tell he likes you. Remus is being a sourpuss because he hasn’t eaten yet. You’re perfect. 

By the time you come upon a polaroid you’d forgotten he’d taken of you in his kitchen, you’re pressing your lips together to keep them from wobbling and your entire being feels warmed by incandescent, aching fondness. Your heart feels so big you can’t breathe around it. You’re not sure you have room for this much love, but you’ll happily carry it around like a weight in your chest for the rest of your life. 

You’re all too aware that Sirius is watching you now, so you try to keep it together for his sake, but when you blink a tear slides down the side of your nose. 

“Hey,” he chides lightly, amusement inlaid with a bit of panic. “Don’t.” 

You sniffle, then laugh wetly. “Can I hug you?” 

Normally he might make a joke (Not if you’re going to get snot all over my interview shirt) but something in your expression must sway him, because Sirius’ eyes go soft. “Yeah, baby. Of course.” 

He doesn’t make you get up, crossing the distance to the bed and wrapping you up in his arms. You let out a little sob at the contact. 

“I’m gonna clean off your shirt once we’re done,” you promise, gripping his shoulders. 

“Okay.” He sounds amused. 

“I just—I didn’t know you kept this stuff.” 

“It’s cheesy.” 

“It’s not,” you insist, hugging him tighter. It makes you happy beyond words, to know you’re bringing this out in him. To see, with your own eyes, how much he loves you back. You can check in with yourself at any time and know you’re happy in your relationship with Sirius, but you never could have imagined how spectacular it would feel to know that you make him this happy in return. “It’s special, Sirius. You’re special.” 

“James’ mum used to tell me the same thing.” 

“Oh, shut up.” You smack his arm, pulling back with a huff. You’re smiling, though, and he sees, taking your wet, blotchy face between his palms and grinning at you. Honestly, if he weren’t Sirius Black, he’d be such a dork. 

“I love you,” he says, a significance in his tone that contradicts the playfulness in his expression. “Do I let you forget it?” 

“No,” you tell him. “You don’t, it’s just…I just really love you too, you know?” 

His smile spreads, flashing canines the second before he pulls you in for a kiss. It’s firm and spirited, and Sirius holds you there until you’re laughing into his mouth. 

“I know,” he says, pecking you once more on the lips before letting you go with a swipe of his thumbs across your cheeks. “Alright, gorgeous, clean me up, would you? I’ve got other people to go impress.”

[pre11yyy]

SUMMARY: You've been teasing Haechan way too much lately so he had to put an end to it (by fucking u so good)

A.N: this was originally a hard thoughts drabble but i just felt like writing more into it so hope u enjoyy... Also m in a very Haechan mood today so i might or might not spam u with his content sorry not sorry

Warnings: explicit content (mdni), mean!haechan, hard!dom!haechan, choking (with hands and cock), hard fucking, unprotected seggs, and more

You were standing in front of Heachan's door, ur hands playing with the hem of ur skirt as u wait for ur brother to show up so u could leave. U always kind of felt nervous around Heachan, u don't know if it's because he always eye-fucks u whenever u r around him, or because of his never ending teasing but u were sure that if u were to be in space alone with him something will 100% happen between both of u.

U can feel that he was only holding back because of his friendship with Mark and that makes u uneasy, so u've been playing with his nerves lately, wanting him to snap out and to give in for his dick i mean for his emotions but also his dick. You didn't know what has gotten into u yesterday but u sent him a picture with ur new red lengerie, waiting for him to see it before deleting it and sending a bunch of sorries wanting to see his face more than anything, but he didn't reply, only reading ur texts without an answer and u couldn't help but wonder if u crossed the line or if u read wrong into him. You weren't sure about coming here with Mark to get his jacket that he forgot in Heachan's house, embarrassed but also curious at the same time, eyes looking for him as he disappeared in his room, hearing his chatter with Mark about random stuff while leaving u standing in the hallaway, u were about to sit in the sofa when u heard their footsteps coming ur way and u stopped looking at Heachan who threw u a very intense look, his eyes hazy as they noticed u, drinking ur excuse of the dress that u fought with Mark over, the small piece barely covering ur ass, ur makeup heavier than usual and the only thing that Heachan wanted to do was to smear it and mess it up but he held himself or at least he tried before he saw the ghost of the red lace bra under ur dress, the same one u sent him yesterday, he cursed under his breath knowing exactly what u r trying to get from all this and he sure will give u that and more.

Mark wrapped his arm around ur shoulders "let's go" u pulled him away annoyed that he messed up ur hair but he returned it in immediately making u fight with him ur dress riding up as u squirm trying to get him away, Heachan watched the whole thing, his pants tightening as he saw the red thong pop in contrast with ur skin, flashing half of ur butt to him. He clenched his hands, his leg shaking impatiently and praying that u'd leave soon or else he'll bend u over in front of Mark. And as if his prayers were answered Mark let go of u earning couples of hits in his chest while laughing at ur tired form, he turned to Heachan "u coming dude?" he asked making the other frown confused "where?" his eyes falling back to u, not missing the small grin on ur face "y/n wants to get a tattoo, it's gonna probably take a long time i'll be so bored if i go with her alone" Heachan raised his eyebrows at u, u really giving it ur best ha! He nodded agreeing to join u and he almost regret that. U were laying on ur stomache the tattoo artist working on ur inner thigh, Heachan could see u through the empty space in the glass, he could see ur ass sticking out as the tattoo artist is inking in ur skin, not paying attention anymore to whatever shit Mark is saying, his mind wondering to later on, to when he'll have u and make u pay for all the teasing u did to him cause ofc he won't let it slide…

U were on ur way back, Heachan's the one driving insisting for both of u and Mark to spend some time in his house and Mark agreed even tho he wanted to drop u off before hands but Heachan refused, u were about to reach Heachan's house when Mark's phone started ringing, "ohh okaay i'll be there in 20 minutes, okayy dw" Mark sighed asking Heachan to drop him off right there "i have to go, they need more waiters tonight" Mark turned to where u r pretending to sleep knowing so well that he would force u to go home right away and u can't let that happen, not when u have this big of oppotunity "dude what am i gonna do? should i wake her up?" Heachan shooked his head "no need i'll take care of her dw" it took Mark a minute to nod his head not sure if he did a good job or not but trusting his friend nonetheless. The moment u heard the door click and the engine start again u opened ur eyes, sighing in relieve and laying there playing with ur phone, excitement filling ur whole body… U felt the car stopping before Heachan got off the car closing the door with too much force that it startled u, u got out of the car seeing Heachan's back facing u as he was opening the door to his house, u stepped in, tugging the end of ur skirt as u followed him inside and the next thing u know, u were pressed on the wall, Heachan's hand wrapped around ur neck making u gasp, his other hand on ur hips, breathing right into ur ears "u played with wrong person little doll" he whispered the hand on ur neck moving up to grip ur jaw making u moan from how rough he is, he chuckled looking at u amused "we didn't even start and u r moaning already?" he clicked his tongue moving ur face and forcing u to look at him, ur hazy eyes meeting up with own and u felt ur legs weaken at the way he was staring at u,

he burrowed his head on ur neck nibbling at ur jaw, his right leg forcing it's way between ur legs, urging u to sit on his thigh and he groaned as he felt ur wetness through his pants, his hand letting go from ur face and gropping ur breasts on top of ur dress, kneading them harshly loving the sound of ur moans and whimpers as u grind at his thigh "i bet u've been waiting for this to hapen right? to come here and for me to fuck u senseless" you whimpered in response, his knee raising slightly to press more on ur pussy making u scream his name, his eyes never leaving ur face, loving the way u look, mouth wide open, eyes rolling back, drooling at the pleasure u were feeling, your makeup a mess already, he groaned, his cock twitching at the sight, his hands leaving ur breast and traveling down to your ass, gripping it tightly and pulling ur body forward making u ride his thigh properly, his hands controlling ur every movement and not letting u stop even if u begged, he moved his face towards yours, his lips ghosting over yours, his hot breath fanning on your skin and you were so eager to kiss him, to taste his mouth that u've heard multiple times talking so dirty and sinful that it drove you crazy.

But he won't give in that easy, he moved away, his hand still controlling your hips and making you chase your orgasm, a devilish grin spreading across his face as he looked at the desperate mess he turned u into, your hands holding onto his shirt for dear life, your knuckles turning white, your eyes closed, your breathing uneven, your whole body trembling from the pleasure, your hips stuttering from overstimulation your thighs clenching around his knee. He chuckled "cum for me doll, cum for me like the desperate whore u are" you moaned in response, his voice and dirty talk sending u over the edge, the pleasure taking over ur whole body, a scream escaping your lips as you cum hard, your juices spilling out on his pants.

He let go of your body and you slumped down to the floor, a satisfied smile on ur face as you look at him through ur hazy vision, his hands fumbling with his belt and undoing his zipper, pulling out his cock and stroking it slowly, the precum spilling out of his slit, his eyes trained on your body, his tongue licking his bottom lip, he smirked and you knew that this won't end until he has his fill. "Strip"

You stood up on wobbly legs, the post orgasm high making your head spin but u still manage to strip out of ur clothes, standing naked in front of Heachan whose hungry eyes were scanning every inch of ur skin, his cock hard and ready, his hand stroking it as he looked at u. He groaned and walked towards you, his hand on the back of ur neck pushing u down until u were face to face with his cock, the tip touching ur lips leaving a trail of precum.

"Open your mouth little doll" despite his words he didn't give u a chance to do so shoving his cock inside your mouth, hitting the back of ur throat and making ur gag reflex kick in, he pushed his cock even deeper inside, making it hit ur throat as tears rolled down ur cheeks, you started coughing and trying to pull away but his hand didn't budge, not letting you escape, not until his whole cock was coated with ur saliva. You sucked him in and swallowed his cock whole, trying your best not to choke, your nails digging into his thighs, leaving crescent moons on his skin.

He grunted, his hand fisting ur hair and forcing you to deep throat his cock, your jaw starting to hurt and you were close to passing out from the lack of air, Heachan groaned as he released his seed deep down your throat, you swallowed everything, his hands finally letting go of your hair and you fell on the floor this time gasping and trying to regain your breath. U were panting, drool and his cum drippin on ur chin, eyes teared up smeering ur mascrara and eyeliner, your body hot and sweaty and the only thing he wants to do is to make u beg for his mercy but he held himself back, pulling his cock back into his pants and adjusting them making u look at him confused "w-what are u doing?" you asked, the panic evident in your voice, scared that he'll leave u hanging. He raised his eyebrow at you and chuckled "what is it doll? did you think i'll let u go this easily?" his eyes darkening and the corner of his lips quirking up "what do u think? should i leave u now?" he asked the smirk evident on his lips as he saw how eargerly u were shaking ur head "use your words little doll" he teased and u blushed "please" u whimpered "please what? what do u want?" he teased, enjoying how flustered and nervous u are getting.

"I want you to fuck me" u whispered, eyes casted down, he lift ur chin forcing u to look at him , his other hand removing the strands of hair that got stuck on ur face "i don't know if u derserve it tbh" u pouted at him, making him laugh ur insides tightening delicously at the sound of it "so eager for me huh? u want me that bad? u want my cock so deep inside u?" u nodded eagerly and he smiled at ur desperation, his hand letting go of ur chin and wrapping around ur throat as he pulled you towards him, his other hand holding ur jaw forcing u to keep your eyes on him.

"I'll make sure to break u until all u can do is beg me to stop, until the only word left in ur mind is my name, until u forget every other name but mine" he whispered in ur ear, his grip tightening making u gasp and moan "is that what u want? tell me doll" you nodded, a silent "please" escaping ur lips and he smirked, satisfied with ur answer. He led u towards his room, pushing u onto the bed, his mouth finding its way to your neck, his teeth scraping ur skin and sucking on it harshly, leaving marks on the way. His tongue trailing a path from ur collarbones, to ur nipples, swirling his tongue around them before biting and sucking them harshly, making you moan loudly. "You're such a slut for me aren't you y/n? always teasing me, wanting my cock inside u" his hand reached down, two fingers plunging inside your pussy without warning, a loud moan leaving ur lips as his fingers curl inside u, his thumb pressing on ur clit, sending shivers down ur spine.

"Oh my god.. ahh" he chuckled, his mouth still leaving marks on ur skin while his fingers are moving inside u. "I love how wet u got for me baby, so wet and ready to take my cock" his thumb speed rubbing harshly against your clit making u squirm on his hold from the pleasure until u cum, your juices squirting and covering his fingers, incoherent words leaving ur mouth as u try to catch ur breath but he didn't let that happen his hand never stopping its movement, fingers thrusting in and out, curling and uncurling, making ur walls flutter around him, your whole body twitching as he overtimulated u while u were trying to pull him away from u, ur tears not stopping as u cried and begged him to stop, "Fuck… Heachan please… Please i can't anymore" u whimpered, tears rolling down ur cheeks as you kept cumming, his fingers never leaving, the pleasure was too much that u were about to pass out but he won't let u, his hands finally stopping, showing u his fingers that were coated with your juices before he licked them, enjoying the sweet taste of it.

"You're doing good doll, u taste so sweet" he cooed, his mouth leaving kisses and licks on ur face, his hands roaming around your body, making your breath hitch and ur skin tickle, his fingers finding its way to ur neck, wrapping around it and squeezing gently, your mouth forming a small o shape, his other hand holding your jaw, his mouth on top of yours, his tongue forcing its way inside and exploring ur mouth, u felt his fingers tightening its hold blocking the air making u dizzy the only thing u can hear is your own heartbeat, your eyes rolling back and closing, the pleasure making its way through ur body, your whole body going limp as he kisses the life out of you. He pulled away, his fingers letting go of ur neck and you gasped, trying to take in the air, Heachan kissed the side of ur neck before whispering in ur ears "are u ready baby?" he bit ur jaw "are u ready for my cock?" u nodded eagerly and he flipped you over, his fingers digging into ur hips, his cock entering inside u in one thrust making u cry out his name, the sudden pleasure overwhelming and making ur head spin, Heachan groaned at the way ur walls wrapped around him squeezing his cock so tight making his mind go blank and his self control slip, he moved, his hips moving in and out, his pace fast and rough, not caring whether it's hurting you or not, all he wanted was to have his way with you and mark you and make sure that you'll be thinking of him and him only.

"Shit… u feel so good y/n, so fucking tight" he cursed under his breath, his hands holding onto ur hips, his fingers bruising the soft skin as u were gone, ur mind so foggy only gasping and moaning as he pounded into u, his cock hitting deep, his hips slamming hard into your ass, a string of curses leaving his lips, the pleasure so great and overwhelming that his mind is clouded, all he can think about is you and his need to release, his need to cum deep inside and to make sure that u r full and dripping with his cum.

You were so close, u can feel it, you were about to cum,your whole body trembled as his fingers were digging harder into your skin holding you close and tight, u felt his thrusts getting sloppier and faster, his cock reaching the deepest spots, hitting your g spot over and over again, and when his hand reached around and pressed on your clit, it was over for you, you came with a scream, his name leaving your mouth as ur thighs were shaking, your eyes rolling back, ur whole body trembling, and Heachan wasn't done, he groaned, his movements slowing down as he filled you with his cum, his cock pulsating inside of you, his cum dripping down ur thighs as he pulled out. Heachan was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took, his hands moving away from your hips watching intensly how his cum oozed out of you, a smug look on his face, proud that he marked you as his, your whole body aching, his hands were all over you, tracing every bruise and bite mark he made, his lips trailing kisses on your neck, a small smile on his face as he held you in his arms making u cling to him more before u felt something poking ur back and u widen ur eyes so tired "Heachan please no" u whined trying to get away from his hold but his grip was tight, not letting go as his lips curled up, his smile growing wider "just one more time y/n" and u were sure by the tone of his voice that he doesn't mean that at all.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

WEARING IMAGINARY RINGS

touya todoroki x reader

you find your late husbands last words. his real last words.

mha official ending spoilers

part 3/3, part one, part two

inspired by fresh out the slammer

the news of his death came as a surprise to no one.

there was no long explanation, no teary eyes other than yours. it was simple: one day, he just couldn’t hold on any longer. he had succumb to his injuries from all those years ago. at some point, your husband, amidst the beeping of hospital machines and wiring, took his final breath.

his family was doing okay, or so you heard. rei was distraught, just wondering how this could have all been different. she cursed herself for ever bringing touya into the world, only to condemn him to suffer. fuyumi, like an eldest daughter would, tried desperately to hold it all together. natsuo didn’t show up until afterwards, and seemed angry at everything and everyone. shouto hardly spoke, but his silence was the perhaps the loudest thing in that room. no one could even look enji in the eyes. good.

and so instead of grieving with your in-laws, you sat on your living-room floor. the hard wood tiles seemed to grieve alongside you, as if wondering where touya was. this house was a home, and the floors loved to house both of you together. now, with just one person, it seemed incomplete.

touya’s blue jacket hung around your shoulders. you clutched it around your body, trying to savour the remnants of his scent. if you couldn’t save him, you’d save his clothes.

in the midst of your hands feeling the fabric, an unfamiliar sensation washes over your fingers as it wanders into the right pocket. its paper.

you slowly take it out, looking at its rather crumpled and old appearance. this must have been there for quite some time. smudged in ink is your name.

your breath hitches, but the desperation to hear from touya again washes over as you slowly unfold the paper. your hands shake slightly as you unfold the paper, as you’re immediately met with the sight of touya’s familiar handwriting. each letter loops and curls in a way that is uniquely his. the mere sight of his handwriting brings a fresh wave of pain and sadness, but similarly, a sense of comfort. his words on paper was almost like hearing his voice speak to you once again, wherever he was now.

Doll,

I don’t know when you’re going to find this, or if you ever will. But if you’re reading this now, it probably means something happened. Whether I’m still alive or not, I want you to know a few things.

First, I love you. So goddamn much. I never thought it was possible to love someone so much, to feel like they’re a part of me. And a part of me still doesn’t believe that you love me too. You’re an idiot for that.

I wanted to spend my whole life with you. Wake up next to you every day, hold you in my arms, kiss you, laugh with you, fight and make up and just.. be with you. But that kind of happiness isn’t meant for me. Not after everything I’ve done. But if there is an afterlife, I hope I’ll get all of that there.

I don’t regret what I did. Taking down Enji.. But I do regret leaving you. And If I could, I’d be running back home to you. To your shitty cooking, to you wearing my clothes. I’d finally agree to get all the cats you wanted, and I’d make more time for you. I was such a prick while I was around, but you loved me anyway.

And If I knew better towards the end, I’d learn from all these mistakes. I’d vow to never lose you ever again. I love you like that, doll. And I’ll never really understand why you love me. Why you’d deal with all the questions, how you’d disappear from your normal life for just a glimpse of my smile. Don’t know how I got so lucky.

And If I know my wife, I know that you’ll still wait up at the porch light. Remember all the times I’d run up to you, only after midnight so no one would find us. When I’m with you it doesn’t matter what I’ve done. If things were different, I wouldn’t have screwed up. If I knew I was gonna fall in love with you, I’d be a better man. What a coward I am, right doll?

I know how hard this is going to be, living without me. I know that you’re going to be hurting, that you’re going to feel lost and alone and like you want to just give up and be with me. And I don’t want you to do that. I want you to keep going, to live your life, to be happy. Please, for me. You have so much more to give and experience in your life, and I don’t want you to waste it.

I know this isn’t going to be easy for you, and a part of me feels like a goddamn coward for writing this instead of saying it to your face. But I just can’t bear the thought of seeing you cry, of seeing the pain in your eyes, of seeing the realization that this is goodbye on your face. I’m a selfish asshole, and I couldn’t handle it. So I chose the coward’s way out.

Keep my ring. If you do find some other asshole who loves you, just know I love you more. I know I told you to move on, but I’m a selfish prick. Whoever that guy is he can go fuck himself. You’re my wife.

Just promise you’ll keep living, for me. Keep being that bright, beautiful, kind, amazing person that I fell in love with. All those nights, you kept me going. I am so, so fucking grateful I got to love you while I did.

And one day, when it’s your time to go, come and find me in the afterlife. I’ll be waiting for you.

Yours,

Touya

[magicalqueennightmare]

Things Change

Daryl Dixon x Reader

This started as a drabble about Daryl wanting to know where the rest of your tattoos are....it became this. Enjoy

Warnings: Violence, cursing, slightly suggestive at the end

"Flirtationship" that's what Maggie called whatever was between you and Daryl. You weren't sure what to call it. One minute it seemed like he was near admitting something then he'd shut back down. You knew you were friends but then there were times he'd get jealous when some of the transplants from Woodsbury would talk to you too long or get a little snippy if you went on a run with someone else. You knew one thing for certain, you weren't breaking first.

You slowly walked through the abandoned store, careful of every step you took. Michonne was two aisles over and Daryl was somewhere under the same roof. So far the three of you had gotten lucky, only two walkers had been hiding within the shadows of the old Piggly Wiggly.

This run had gone pretty well. You'd worked on the supply list for Hershel and had picked up pretty much everything actually.

-------------

You made it to the end of the aisle and Michonne stood there with a mischievous looking grin and her hand behind her back "What ya got?" You asked and she pulled her hand out to reveal two protein bars "The last two peanut butter ones"

You took one with a little giggle of delight. As the two of you tore into the treats you heard Daryl's footsteps behind you before he said "You sound like a damn chipmunk girl" you glanced over your shoulder at him "Don't be mad cause you didn't get one"

He stepped up close enough his chest was tight against your back. With one hand on your hip he leaned down and whispered in your ear "I could always do this" and before you could ask what he'd reached around you with his other hand and snapped a piece of the protein bar off and popped it into his mouth.

You gasped dramatically "Daryl Dixon! Stealing from a helpless woman" he shook his head "Woman, yeah. Helpless? hell no, you ain't.

Michonne shook her head and laughed "Did both of you finish your lists?" You nodded and Daryl did too so She waved towards the door "Lets get back"

-------------

The three of you walked together back towards the front of the store and passed a still intact magazine rack. You stopped to examine a tattoo one.

As you flipped through Michonne leaned over your shoulder looking as well. "There's some nice ink in here" you commented and she shrugged "I like your tattoos myself" Daryl looked from you to her "The rose on her arm?"

Michonne cut her eyes at you, a slight smirk working its way onto her face then shook her head "No, her other ones" "Other ones?" Daryl asked with a raised eyebrow so you tossed the magazine down and quickly changed the subject to needing to get back to the prison before everyone started worrying about the three of you.

You didn't miss how Daryl's eyes flicked across your body like he was trying to figure out where you were hiding the other tattoos, causing a trail of heat to raise across your skin as if his touch had followed his eyes but eventually he nodded "Yeah, let's get going"

A few days later you were helping Carol cook in the center of the yard and felt more than heard someone walk up behind you even before a smile worked its way onto her face. "Hey Daryl" you spoke without turning around.

She looked a little more than amused because you'd told her about the whole him questioning the location of your other tattoos thing. He bumped your shoulder with his "Wanna get out the fence for a while? Was gonna go hunt"

You cut your eyes at Carol and she nodded "I've got it covered" you turned your head slightly to look at Daryl who was standing close enough to your back he was nearly touching you "I'm gonna go grab my bow and my gun. Meet ya at the gate?" He nodded so you turned to walk off.

------------

Daryl watched you walk away then looked back at Carol who was watching him with a grin. "What?" She shook her head "Nothing. You're kinda obvious though"

"About what?" She shook her head again and went back to turning the food. He stood there for a minute and considered just walking off but ever since you and Michonne had mentioned your other tattoos the thought hadn't left his mind just where those other tattoos were. He shouldn't he thinking this hard about it.

"Carol.." he started but she cut him off "Yes, I know where all her tattoos are. No, I'm not telling you. And the thing you're obvious about is that you're head over heels for her and can't figure out how to approach it. She won't bite, well i mean she might if you ask her to"

"I didn't...I'm not..." he stammered, feeling his face warm but about that time he heard your voice echo across the yard "DAMMIT DIXON. DON'T KEEP A WOMAN WAITING"

Carol looked back at him and started laughing at the look on his face "Go catch up with her. You and me both know she'll go out on her own" "Yeah, I'll catch ya later" he mumbled before heading towards the gate where you stood with your bow over your shoulder.

So far the only thing you and Daryl had managed was a half dozen squirrels, two rabbits and to kill four walkers.

You were walking shoulder to shoulder with him, careful of every step to avoid unnecessary noise. You could feel his eyes on you every now and then but assumed it was the usual "making sure you're walking right" watching.

"Think we'll luck out and find bigger game or should we just try finding a few more rabbits then head back?" You asked, turning to face him and nearly ran right into his chest.

His bow was in his right hand so his left went to your hip to steady your footing "We can make another loop to check for deer tracks" he answered and you nodded slowly, a little too focused on how tightly his hand was gripping you and on how fast your heart had started beating when he'd grabbed you there.

You took a step back making his hand fall away, readjusting your own bow in your grip "Yeah. Let's get on it"

--------------

He hadn't missed the way your eyes had got wider when he'd grabbed your hip so your footing wouldn't slide. This thing between the two of you was getting harder to deny.

You took a few steps ahead of him then looked back "ya coming?" He nodded "Yeah, I'm coming" the two of you continued your way through the woods, looking for any movement that could bring meat to the prison.

There was one particular transplant from Woodsbury that was on very thin ìce with Rick. Like one complaint and you were fairly certain he'd catch a bullet and get thrown to the walkers at the gate.

Francis Martin. He was a lawyer pre fall and apparently still considered himself better than other people. Even Hershel wasn't too particularly fond of him. What was worse? He was misogynistic as hell.

He couldn't understand why Rick had so many women in the group that he trusted and respected the way he did you, Michonne, Maggie and Carol. Beth was luckily still young enough to be under his radar a bit.

------------

You and Maggie were working with a few of the women from Woodsbury. Some of them had no knowledge of self defense or basic weapon training so you were doing what you could.

Glenn had of course volunteered if the two of you needed someone to show how to fight with. He was slightly taller than Maggie and had a few inches on you.

--------------

You were showing one woman how to tuck her hand to throw a punch when you heard someone laugh and looked up to see Francis leaned against the wall watching. "Something funny Martin?" He waved a hand around "This"

You saw Glenn out the corner of your eye and shook your head slightly. As much as you loved Glenn for being protective you didn't need a man coming to your rescue because he'd never back off. You took a step towards Francis "What's funny about it? Your governor never taught them self defense or weapons training. We're trying to help them have a chance at surviving"

He pushed off the wall and took a step towards you "Women teaching women survival. It's a joke honey" you felt yourself bristle at him calling you honey. "I haven't seen you lift a damn finger to help anything. You haven't taken a guard shift, haven't helped the farming section, you damn sure don't hunt. You don't clean the kills. You don't cook. You don't help with laundry. You don't help with the water supply. You don't help with the solar panels we scavenged. What do you do?"

------------

You could feel a crowd growing and knew Glenn had more than likely summoned Rick or went in search of him but you weren't taking your eyes off the sorry excuse for a man in front of you. "And you do so much? I always see you hanging off Dixon" he spat and without thinking you swung, connecting a solid punch to his jaw. He staggered a bit then spit out a mouthful of blood "You're gonna regret that you little bitch"

"Make me regret it" He recovered and swung, landing a punch to your jaw. It was a solid hit but not hard. You'd been hit a helluva lot harder. You spit the little blood it caused from your teeth slicing your lip out "That was weak"

You kicked out and it connected with his knee. He went down and you started to walk off but heard one of the women Alice scream for you to watch out. You side stepped the knife in enough time it just barely grazed your arm.

You jumped back out of his arm's reach, a shocked laugh escaping you "A fucking knife? Really" you heard Rick's voice but didn't move your eyes off the threat. "RICK, THIS FUCKING MANIAC IS TRYING TO KILL ME"

------------

Rick appeared over your shoulder "Francis put the knife down and you might walk away from this" "Not before I kill that bitch" Francis seemed like he was fucking possessed, the fragility of the male ego mixed with the stress of the apocalypse?

"Fair enough" you heard Daryl's voice right before a crossbow bolt landed dead center of Francis' left eye.

He dropped like a rock. Rick grabbed your shoulder and turned you to face him "Are you ok?" You nodded "I'm fine" his eyes raked across your body before landing on your bleeding arm "He cut you" you shook your head "Barely a graze"

He leveled you with a look so you sighed "I'll go see Hershel" he nodded "Good girl" then looked around "It's getting late. Everyone head inside. Me and Daryl will clean up"

You cut your eyes at Daryl who looked from your split lip to your arm. "You good?" You nodded "Asshole just caught me off guard with the knife and trying to make sure he didn't hurt anyone else"

Rick nodded "We need to reevaluate everyone from Woodsbury" you shook your head "he was the only weakling. It's solid now" both men studied you for a moment then nodded "Go get stitched up then head to bed" Rick said and you nodded "Yes sir" then headed inside.

Once you headed inside Rick looked at Daryl "Are you good?" "Yeah" Daryl answered quickly but Rick wasn't buying it that easily. He'd seen the anger in his friend's eyes when Francis had threatened you, mixed with how little hesitation he'd had with putting him down with the entire yard filled with people.

Rick studied him for moment before speaking again "I missed it too. I'm just as guilty for her getting hurt" when Daryl didn't say anything he added "Why don't you go talk to her when we get through here?"

Daryl finally looked up at that, "About what?" Rick raised an eyebrow "You didn't hesitate. Nothing would've stopped you from putting him down. Not because he was dangerous to everyone here but because he was threat to her directly. That means something. I think it's time you two figure out what"

Daryl just grunted in reply before kicking Francis' body "Lets get this asshole out"

You finally made it into your cell and collapsed across the cot. Your mind was going a little too much for your liking.

After you'd gotten cleaned up you'd made your way to Hershel for stitches. While you'd been sitting on top of the table in the main area people had started trickling in. First it was your group. Carl and Beth with Judith in tow. Then Michonne and Carol, ever the protectors they were. Then came Glenn and Maggie.

Your group hadn't affected you. You were family which meant you were used to all of you checking on each other if an injury happened.

What bothered you was the Woodsbury women. The ones who talked about Francis. How uncomfortable he'd made them. Comments and actions you hadn't noticed. You shouldn't shoulder the burden alone, it was the apocalypse but you felt responsible because like it or not too much of your attention had been on Daryl and the question of what were the two of you.

The guilt of if Francis had hurt someone was unbearable. You knew you had to talk to Daryl, lay your cards on the table and let them fall where they may but that didn't mean you had to like it.

------------

You were half asleep when you heard a light tap on the bars. Your eyes flew open and your knife was in your hand before your brain caught up completely.

You recognized the shadow outside your cell immediately and relaxed, leaning up to lay your knife on the top bunk "Come in Daryl" you said it loud enough he could hear you but still low enough to not disturb anyone else.

He pushed the door of your cell open then pushed past the orange shower curtain you'd scavenged a while back for privacy. He pulled the cell door closed behind him then leaned against the wall just inside the door.

"How ya feeling?" He asked, eyes going to your arm where it still rested half across your face. You ran a finger down the bandage "Ten stitches. Hershel gave me the usual aftercare of keep em as clean as possible, change my bandages and when to take em out"

He nodded slowly as you sat up then scooted back so your back was against the wall then you patted the bed next to you "Cmon Dixon. Sit down" he laid his crossbow down next to your bow then sat down next to you, ducking his head.

Once he was through moving around in a bid to get comfortable you saw his hand reach out for your injured arm so you let him take it. His fingers lightly grazed the bandage "You kicked his ass even before I showed up" you laughed lightly despite the guilt you felt and leaned your head over on his shoulder "Yeah, thanks for that by the way" he nodded, "I got your back. Always"

------------

After a moment he tucked you under his chin and you wanted nothing more than to curl up against him and ignore the guilt, the conversation that needed to happen but you couldn't.

"Daryl, he'd been harassing the Woodbury women. Worse than I realized" "That ain't your fault" he offered but you shook your head "I've been distracted"

He pulled back to look down at you "You ain't never gotten distracted easy" you stared at him for a moment then felt the tips of your ears warm. Was he that oblivious?

"Hell I only swung first because he said all I do is hang off you" at that Daryl laughed "Carol says I follow you around" you laughed lightly. His hand came up to brush your hair back from your face and your heart flipped in your chest. "You take care of everyone you can as much as you can. Don't feel guilt for what that asshole did"

You swallowed hard then smiled "I'll try not to" you hadn't realized you'd been staring into each other's eyes until Daryl shook his head and looked away "Ya want me to let you get some sleep?" "No" you replied without thinking and it was nearly comical how fast his eyes came back to yours.

You shrugged "I like being around you. I feel comfortable and safe" he nodded and you thought that was all would be said until he asked "That all it is?" And you were stunned with the forwardness from Daryl of all people "No, it's not" you admitted and he smiled "Good. Cause that's not all it is for me either"

------------

You laughed and started to lay your head back over before a thought occurred to you, "Still curious about the tattoos?" His smile turned into a smirk "Yeah?"

You climbed off the cot, Daryl watching you carefully. You took your boots off and set them next to the bed and when you unzipped your jeans, the look in his eyes made your stomach do that little flutter thing. You slid your jeans down off your hips and laid them on the top bunk leaving you in just your panties and tshirt.

You were nervous because you liked Daryl. He was one of your closest friends and how you felt about him well honestly you were fairly certain you hadn't ever had feelings like that for anyone even before the world ended. You weren't a blushing virgin either though.

He was quiet for a moment then moved up to the edge of the cot and held a hand out. You took his hand and he used it to pull you to him "Can I?" He asked and you nodded.

---------------

Daryl watched as you slipped your jeans off, the moment your legs were free of the denim the ink came into view. It started at your hip and ran down the full length of your right leg down to your ankle, twisting and turning. Vines, roses and different flowers decorated your skin along with a few other designs hidden that blended in.

It was gorgeous and fit you well. He moved up to the edge of the cot and reached a hand for you, hoping like hell you'd take it and when you did he pulled you to him. "Can I?" He asked, nodding towards your leg and you nodded so he leaned forward letting his fingers trace across the patterns inked into your skin "Why ya been hiding this?"

"Even in the Georgia heat shorts aren't really practical" you replied, resting your hands on his shoulders as he explored the tattoo further. When his thumb brushed a little higher on your thigh a light sigh escaped you and he grinned to himself. Did he really have that effect on you?

He looked up at you and you smiled "Whend ya get em?" "Eighteenth birthday. Got in a pretty bad wreck at fifteen. Dad was driving and walked away without a scratch. I had four surgeries and pins in my leg which left lots of scars. He felt like shit because he ran a red"

He nodded slowly, fingers still trailing across your leg "Looks good" you smiled again "Thank you" he leaned forward and let his lips just barely brush against the rose that was on the bend on your hip, nearly hidden under your panty line and you sucked in a harsh breath "Daryl"

-----------------

You knew he was doing it on purpose when he looked up at you "Somethin wrong?" "So we're doing this? Us?" You asked and he nodded "If you want it, I do" you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth chewing on it and saw the look in his eyes. He was as turned on as you were. "We'll have to be quiet"

He grinned "We can try but the kids are upstairs at least" you started to roll your eyes but he leaned up to press another kiss to your leg, this one a little higher and you gasped "Damn you Daryl" he laughed against your skin "You can cuss me all you want woman as long as you keep saying my name like that"

[semisolidmind]

How do you think season 5 would’ve gone in your Bad End or Twice As Bad AU?

ok, so

y'know how, since season 4, mk has been going through the whole “i don’t want to use or even acknowledge my monkey form because it makes me feel like a monster” thing? well, bad end/twice as bad mk doesn’t have that hangup to address, because he’s spent his entire life up until the shows’ events in that form, training and living in it. he knows no other way.

he is an incredibly powerful monkey demon; he is the harbinger of chaos, and he's fine with it.

his “mortal” form is the one he’s been having visions and confrontations with. (i imagine the ink curse in s4 using his mortal form to taunt him about being weak now that he's got mortals he cares about– "keep on compromising for them, and you'll end up just like them; too small and insignificant to ever make a difference.")

instead of having to face his fear that he may be dangerous (because as a crazy powerful monkey demon trained by the two other most powerful monkey demons in the universe, of course he is), his mortal self is trying to tell him that he doesn't have to be a monster like wukong. death and rampant destruction don't have to be his legacy.

the mortal mk in his meditative visions tells him that caring for his friends doesn't make him weak or undeserving of his power and lineage. the visions he has during the guardian trials (and the guardians themselves) tell him that in order to be a real hero, he has to care about those that his training would tell him are "lesser" than him (also that his friends aren't worth less just because they don't have a ridiculous amount of power).

mk would learn to accept that every being in the world has value, regardless of their status. nuwa would tell him this as well, when he meets her.

season 5 would be bad end/twice as bad mk's journey of accepting that he has a mortal heart, and that caring for others has immense power all on its own. he must choose to be the change to the status quo.

he'd always known he was an "agent of chaos," but the events of season five cement in his mind that he was brought into the world for a reason. just that now, he alone gets to decide what that reason is.

----------

as for his mentors...

getting captured and re-bound by the gold fillet wasn't exactly on the monkey king's itinerary, and he's majorly pissed. he levels the surrounding area about it, and decimates all of the soldiers sent to subdue him (regardless of how agonizing the tightening spell is; the pain just makes him angrier). he breaks every ward and barrier placed against him, tears apart any enemy who dares to come close. his rage is a force to be reckoned with.

wukong had sworn he'd never be subjugated by heaven ever again; he's definitely not just gonna let this slide. the celestial realm will suffer for their breach of the tentative peace they brokered by leaving the monkey king well enough alone.

as the only one that gets captured after his fit of rage, he only has to get himself out of celestial prison. easy, despite how many wards are placed on his cell (it's not like heaven has ever been much of a threat to him before, after all). he has to get back to the group, for his family's sake. nothing will stand in his way.

macaque only barely dodges getting locked into a fillet as well, and uses his advantage to launch a sneak attack on nezha and li jing; this forces them back and gives the gang their chance to escape in the chaos caused by the monkey bros.

the shadow general takes the distraction provided by wukong's rampage to get reader and everyone else somewhere safe. from there, the gang helps mk find all the stones, defeat the guardians trials, and eventually make their way to the pillar.

both wukong and macaque try to stop mk from sacrificing himself (in-between fighting the nine-headed demon), and reader tries to talk him down from it. however, she can't argue with the look of quiet determination on his face..she knows that he's made up his mind. with tears in her eyes she embraces him, then lets him go.

wukong tries to go after him, but one look at reader stops him. she's...she's accepted his decision. just like she always has. maybe...maybe this time, wukong should too. he sheds tears and holds onto his wife... but doesn't follow his son into the pillar.

the world goes silent, before bursting back to life.

the stones are destroyed, the nine-headed demon dissapears, and things go back to almost normal.

----------

—i imagine reader, with her skills as a peacemaker developed from her centuries as queen of flower fruit mountain, is the one who keeps everyone calm and grounded throughout their ordeals. she's gotten to know them all through her adopted charge, and keeps them on track.

—now it'd make sense for reader to be left relatively safe on ffm, but given the state of the universe in this season, the monkey bros aren't about to let her out of their sight (weird end-of -the-world-again family road trip). they don't care much for the rest of existence, but even they have to acknowledge that they'd prefer the world and their mountain unbroken.

—the pagoda sequence is a very emotionally tense one for reader and the boys in twice as bad. reader relives being stolen and the early years of her imprisonment; after they break her out of the hundred eyed demon's spell, she won't look at either of them and flinches away when they try to touch her; little does she know, her husbands relived the same thing (plus all the other bad shit they've done). they've learned enough compassion for her to feel a bit of shame.

[pressureplus]

Hello!!! I really love the way you write stories and head cannons too.

Idk if this is similar to other one but I'm just gonna do it anyway.

(reader can be she/them)

I always imagine this that Reader and Sebastian used to be best friends and Sebastian had fallen in-love with the reader so he decide that he's going to confess to the Reader but sadly the reader suddenly transfer to other school that is out of the country because their father force them to but the reader sent a final letter to Sebastian which handed by Reader's freind to him.

Years later after Sebastian turned into a monster and the lockdown happened, the reader went down because of the crime they did that they killed their father but got amnesia that they couldn't remember anything. When Sebastian and Reader meet, the reader couldn't remember anything. But is Sebastian gonna try to regain their memories or no.

Sorry if this is too specific. It's fine if you don't want to I respect your decision.

No, no, its not too specific! It just took a while to write, that's all. Sorry if it's not as detailed as you would like. I mostly write half asleep and that's what I'm doing again lol

Aphotic

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x Fem!Reader

Au: Classic

Warnings: N/A

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ �� ◞꒷◟

She had left him wanting all those years ago. The way she smiled lit a warm flame in his heart every time he saw it, her laugh ringing like clumsy church bells in his ears. She was beautiful to him, like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. Entirely striking and stand alone. Of course, falling in love with your best friend never ends well, and it certainly didn't for them. The letter he got that day entirely broke his heart, you’d gone and left him behind. No amount of love could keep you close to him either. It was signed with your name in the prettiest handwriting he’s sure you could manage. Some of the letter was so shakily written it was hard to decipher. As though you were scared, or maybe crying due to some of the little tear stains left on the paper. The ink mixed with it to create little splotches.

Now, here you stood. Your eyes cold and unfamiliar with him. He tried his best to say what he’d wanted all those years ago. He tried to explain how he felt when you just left, leaving only a letter behind. As though you hadn't tore his entire life in two with your bare hands. Yet you stared, eyes entirely blank and expression melting into confusion. It was like staring through ice. Those pools of both uncertainty and without any care, unfamiliar with him, with his voice, with his words. Somehow you not remembering him was the worst part of being down here. What you'd been sent down here for? You never could quite answer. He tried to push his feelings down when he realized you didn't understand a word out of his mouth.

Instead, he lied. He said he's sorry, that you had reminded him of someone he used to know. A person he’d once been familiar with. He was certain that little thing couldn't have been you. She’d been as quiet as a mouse, keeping low and skittering around corners. You couldn't be them, he's sure of that. So he began to help you, his hands in yours practically every step of the way. His all encompassing presence surrounding you, keeping you warm, keeping you fed, keeping you safe. He’d stick his neck out for you and complain the whole time. He’d claim he hated it every time he saved you from certain death. Really, if he was honest, he just wanted to be close to the shell of you.

If he could never have you, if your memories had been lost to time? He’d build new ones. Maybe building them in a place this cold and unforgiving wasn't ideal, but beggars can't be choosers. You were still just as beautiful as the day you left him too. If you were nobody elses heartache for the rest of time, you’d always be his. So he’ll sit and watch you enjoy things you always used too enjoy, and pretend to be just as shocked as you are when you say how happy they make you. Maybe he’ll hand sew you a plushie or two and say he got bored, rather than just wanting you to have something soft to carry around. Maybe he’ll get to fall in love with you all over again.

Maybe this time you'll love him enough to stay. Whether your memories do or don't come back won't change a thing. You will always be his precious Y/N. The one he kisses late at night, the one he cuddles with, the one he hopes to have children with. You're the Y/N he won't let leave him, and he’ll be damned if he can't save you now. Maybe before this place he was small, weak, human. He couldn't have saved you before, let him save you now, won't you?

[poppy-metal]

failmarriage art when you're his emergency contact and hes yours and he gets called because you got sick or hurt yourself in some way - and you're so weak and defenseless you have no choice but to let him take care of you. and it sucks because he's just too much..... art. he's a caretaker. he knows all your favorite comfort foods. he knows you have a favorite blankie for when you're feeling sick - and he's being so kind. you can almost forget all that's wrong between you - he makes you feel like a baby, his baby. and he still has his wedding band on. even though you dont have yours - its somewhere safely tucked away - and your brain is fuzzy and you're weak and you just.... reach out and run your hand through his hair.

he leans into it because of course he does. sighs because you haven't touched him in months, not like this. tender and knowing - you stroke your fingers through his locks for a few moments in silence, just relishing the feel of him, his presence this close to you, his body, his scent - yours, your art, your person, your husband - "when are you gonna let me back in?" he breaks the silence. his voice is sad. and you think about everything you've put him through recently. "when are you going to let me love you again?"

you drop your hand. "i didn't realize it was my choice whether you loved me or not."

he looks at you, and your breath catches. he looks so young - you realize. hes only in his 30s, you all are, but he reminds you of his teenage self right then. soft and vulnerable. he looks devastated.

"I'll always love you," he says seriously. his hand twitches, like it wants to reach out and touch you. half of you wishes he would, would breach the gap. the other is glad he doesn't, because you'd melt if he did. "i mean that. you're half of my heart." he looks away, rubs his chin, works his jaw, trying not to cry. "but its a two way street, baby. you know that." he sighs, "i can't do it all on my own."

you look at your hands. at your empty ring finger. you feel arts eyes there too. both of you imagining the familiar band there, where it used to be. you curl your fingers into a fist and tuck them under your blanket. "im tired." you tell him, and he nods.

stands and gathers his things. he pauses by you on the couch, fingers touching the arm of it. "call me if you need anything."

you nod, shaky. listen to his footsteps as he leaves your apartment. you drag your hand back into your lap and open your palm - trace the love line - or what they say is the love line anyway - there and remember tashi cupping your wrist in college, her soft brown hair tickling your arm as she leaned over your palm and traced the vein with a blue ink pen. "this is your longest line," she told you, grinning. "you're gonna be loved your whole life."

"by art?" you'd asked, hopeful.

tashi had shrugged. "by him. by alot of people, probably. by me too."

you liked the sound of that.