#Second Person POV

[itisdoctortoyousir]

we do, but friends don't

A work based off of "Friends Don't" by Maddie & Tae Friends don't: cancel other plans, have conversations with nothing but their eyes, hear each other's names and forget to concentrate, call in the middle of the night, stand around and play with their keys, find reasons not to leave, drive a little too slow, take the long way home, get a little too close, almost say 'I love you,' talk about the future and put each other in it, get chills with every accidental touch. You and Melissa do, though.

Link posted here, or the entire story is below the 'keep reading.' Enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54009289

 “I’ll see you tonight, Melissa,” Barbara said as she made her way down the hall of the school toward the parking lot.

   “Wait, Barb!” Melissa jogged to catch up to her friend. “Something came up. Maybe we can have our monthly dinner next week instead?” she suggested.

   Barbara raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow. “You have other plans?” She caught Melissa’s traveling gaze land on the closed door to your classroom but decided to keep her mouth shut. Her friend would tell her when the time was right.

   “Yeah,” Melissa rubbed the back of her neck. “Sorry.”

   “Melissa Schemmenti,” Barbara patted her friend on the forearm. “Have fun.” With that, Barbara was out the door and in her car, speeding home to tell Gerald the news.

   Melissa headed in the direction of your classroom. 

   Through the window in the door, you saw her raise her eyebrows as if to say, ‘I gotta tell ya something.’ You smiled in response and held up a single finger to ask her for a minute. Melissa rolled her eyes but stayed behind the closed door patiently.

   While she was waiting, Jacob walked over to Melissa, drawing her attention.

   “Are you waiting for Y/N?” He asked.

   Melissa nodded politely in response.

   “You know, I heard a podcast about Italian history the other day, and I meant to tell you about…” 

   To Melissa, Jacob’s voice trailed off. Whenever she heard your name these days, her mind was transported to an imaginary, distant future. A jolt of electricity would run up her spine at the mention of you and her face would turn the color of cartoon dynamite. Melissa had to get home; whatever she wanted to tell you could wait. She was about to explode. Without trying to figure out if Jacob was actually done talking, Melissa turned toward the doors and pounded her way down the hall, out the doors, and to her car, speeding home.

   On a random Saturday night, you woke up to your phone ringing. The caller ID read Melissa, so you picked up, your heart fluttering ever so slightly. “What’s the matter?” you asked, your voice laced with concern.

   “Nothing, hun,” she answered.

   “Then why are you calling me in the middle of the night?”

   “I- I don’t know…” The line was silent for half a minute, the only sound your shared breaths. “I just wanted to say ‘hi.’”

   “On a Saturday night?” you asked.

   “Yeah, I guess I just missed ya today.”

   “I missed you too, Mel. But I’ll see you tomorrow at game night.”

   “Right, you want a ride to that thing?”

   “That’d be great,” you perked up at the offer to be alone with Melissa for even a ten-minute car ride.

   “Sounds good. I’ll pick you up at 5:45,” Melissa replied. She could sense the phone call would end soon, but she couldn’t determine for the life of her how to appropriately drag out the conversation. Simply hearing your slow breathing would be enough for her, but she imagines her phone bill would beg to differ.

   “I’ll see you then,” you said, also wracking your brain for a way to drag out the conversation. “Goodnight, Melissa.”

   “Goodnight.” She heard the line go dead and, with it, the sounds of your warming breaths vanished.

   The next night at 5:45, Melissa rang the doorbell for your place. “Come in,” you invited her, “I just need to grab the wine from the fridge.” You knew Janine would fail to get Melissa’s favorite Prosecco, so you decided to bring a bottle yourself.

   “No rush,” Melissa called as you left her to idle in the foyer so you could grab the wine.

   When you came back, Melissa was fiddling with her keys. “You ready to go?” you asked.

   As if she hadn’t even heard you, Melissa pointed to a painting on the wall and asked, “When did’cha get this?”

   “A while back,” you responded, watching her as she followed the perimeter along the walls, discovering more artwork along the way.

   “Are you ready?” You chuckled.

   Melissa shook her head, her eyes landing on a vase of flowers. “Not yet. Who bought you flowers?” Her voice was laced with an accusatory tone. She was the only one who could buy you flowers.

   “I bought them. Wanted to brighten up the place a bit.”

   “They’re nice,” she said quietly, still fiddling with her car keys. Suddenly, her demeanor shifted back to the cooly confident Schemmenti you had initially expected. “Alright, hun, let’s head out. Stop distracting me,” she teased.

   At Janine’s apartment for game night, you and Melissa were paired together for Pictionary. Melissa was up to draw first. She drew a large circle on the page, and you excitedly called out, “Pizza!” Melissa’s face lit up, and she started drawing the next prompt since the time was still going.

   “How did you get pizza from a circle?” Gregory questioned. The rest of your friends looked puzzled but continued to watch in amazement as you and Melissa seemed to be the perfect match for this game.

   “Camel!”

   “Okay, that was just an upside-down U!” Janine groaned.

   “Colorado!”

   “She drew a rectangle!” Jacob harrumphed, sitting back on the couch.

   “Skunk!” You called out right before the time ran out, giving your team a sizable lead.

   “Even I don’t get that one, dear. It’s just a squiggle,” Barbara said.

   “It’s a tail,” you and Melissa said at the same time. You blushed profusely. Melissa took a large gulp of her wine, emptying the glass. 

   You took her glass in your sweaty hand and went to the kitchen to refill both of your glasses. You utilized the moment to control your heart rate.

   As the night drew to a close, Melissa stood from her spot on the couch and looked down at you. “You ready to head out?”

   You nodded and stood, winding up slightly too close to the woman, your thighs bumping before you took a step back into the couch.

   “Alright, bye, you two,” Janine said, hugging you after Melissa shrugged her off.

   Silently, Melissa drove you home. Dozens of cars passed you on the road, but neither of you seemed to notice. You weren’t in any rush to get home. And then she took a turn too early. “This isn’t the normal turn,” you said, more curious than concerned.

   “It’s a different route, a little longer. You’ll like it,” Melissa replied cooly, her eyes never straying from the road in front of her while yours rested firmly on her face lit up by the street lights.

   She was right. You did enjoy the ride, if only for the company.

   “Here we are, hun,” Melissa said as she pulled in front of your place. Just as you were getting out of the car, Melissa called out to you. “Y/N-”

   You leaned back in, maybe too far into her space. Your breath warmed her face. “Yeah?”

   “I-” She shook her head, clearing the fog from her mind. She wanted to say ‘I love you.’ “I had fun tonight. We make a good team.”

   “We do,” you replied. There was nothing else to say. What you wanted to say couldn’t be said in this state. Melissa would just think you had drunk too much wine. “Goodnight, Mel,” you said quietly, shutting her car door.

   She mouthed back a silent ‘goodnight’ and followed your retreating form as you walked inside. She then sped back home.

   The next Friday night, you were out at a new bar with Ava. While she was soaking in the attention of quite a few men and some women, you were sat upon a barstool picturing an image too far away to grasp.

   “Girl, what is up with you tonight?” Ava asked when she finally took a break from flirting with her flavor of the quarter hour.

   “Nothing, I guess I’m just not feeling it tonight.”

   “How you gonna find your future partner if you don’t flirt now?”

   “I think I’ve already found her,” you said, imagining an older version of yourself reclining on the couch with Melissa yelling at a football game plopped right next to you. Ava simply rolled her eyes and walked off.

   One morning in the break room you walked in to see Melissa fixing you a cup of your preferred morning beverage. When she finished with both of your drinks, she sat at the table next to you. “Here ya go,” she said, handing you your cup. Your hand accidentally brushed hers and a chill shot down your back. “You cold?” she asked. Her hand reached out to rub your bicep and another chill came upon you.

   Barbara, watching the entire scene, hummed over her own mug of coffee.

   On another night, you found yourself clicking through your phone to call Melissa. Her phone sent you to voicemail, so you left a message.

   “Hey, Mel. I don’t really know why I’m calling you,” you let out a soft chuckle. “I guess I just wanted to say ‘hi’ and hear your voice ‘cause I kinda had a rough night and your voice was the only thing I could think of to calm me down. But… uhhh… you don’t need to worry about that… I’ll see you… uh… soon.” 

   Not even five minutes later you got a call back.

   “Can you drive?” Melissa asked.

   “Yeah, why?”

   “Come over.” With that, she hung up, leaving you no choice but to do as you were told. You drove to Melissa’s house in your pajamas, not even bringing your phone.

   Before you could knock, Melissa pulled open her door and wrapped you in a tight hug. Right there on the front steps. The cool night air all around you.

   After about an hour of just sitting in comfortable silence with Melissa on her couch, you patted her thigh and began to stand. You played with your keys, trying to find something to say, to stretch the time. “Melissa, thank you – for everything.”

   She didn’t say anything for the longest time, holding your glance, the background music the sound of jingling keys. “Why don’t you just stay?” she finally suggested.

   “Are you sure?”

   “Yeah, I mean – I don’t want you out driving at this time of night. So stay.”

   “Okay,” you replied. Inside, your heart was having minor palpitations, doing backflips over and over; you imagined it was trying to impress her like a loyal dog.

   Melissa tugged you into her bedroom and next to her on the bed.

   “This is your room…”

   “I don’t got any other bedrooms,” she explains. 

   After another hour of comfortable silence, both of you scrolling through your phones and occasionally leaning into the other to show her a funny video, Melissa leaned over to you, letting your head fall into the crook of her neck. “We look nice, let me get a pic, hun.” She held out her phone, taking a picture of the two of you. You had no idea why, but you didn’t want to question the woman after she offered to let you stay in her house. Unbeknownst to you, Melissa sent the image to Barbara in a small display of progress with her crush.

   The next morning, you woke up with a small grin on your face, having slept the previous night in the same bed as Melissa Schemmenti. Melissa was already up, looking at her phone; Barbara had texted her back: ‘Don’t you look cozy, lovebird.’

   You got up, gathering your few belongings to leave. Melissa shot out of bed. “Wait! Let me get you a sweatshirt so you don’t have to drive home cold in your sleep shirt.” Melissa rummaged through her drawers, pulling out an old Flyers sweatshirt. It was faded slightly, had small tears in the cuffs, and was probably older than you, but it smelled like Melissa. You pictured her wearing it on weekends, cooking a warm meal over the stove.

   “Thanks,” you said, pulling the sweatshirt over your pajama top. It was as warm as she had promised. 

   You pulled out of Melissa’s driveway slowly as she waved to you from her porch. You stayed at that glacial pace until you could no longer see her from your rearview mirror. On your drive home, you took the long way, not ready to go back to your cold, lonely apartment just yet.

   The next Monday when you found Melissa in the teachers’ lounge, you handed her back her sweatshirt, washed and folded. “Here, thank you. You were right, it was warm.”

   Melissa stood too close to you, sharing your air. “I’m glad, hun.” She grabbed the sweatshirt and left to put it with her stuff in her classroom.

   “What was that?” Jacob pounced on the tension.

   “Nothing,” you replied too quickly. “That was nothing.”

   “Are you sure, girl?” Ava piped up while she was pouring copious amounts of sugar into her coffee. “‘Cuz I’ve seen nothing, and that ain’t it.”

   Before you could reply, Melissa came back into the lounge, still holding the sweatshirt. “On second thought, keep it.” She pushed it back into your arms.

   You locked eyes with her. “Are you sure?”

   “It’s yours now,” Melissa replied, having a silent conversation with your eyes.

   You could smell her perfume all over the sweatshirt; you thought it had been washed off when you cleaned it. Then you realized that she went and reapplied her perfume all over the sweatshirt so that it would still smell like her.

   “Awe, Mel,” you teased, bumping her shoulder with yours, “You really do love me.” A little harmless flirtation in the workplace never hurt.

   Melissa became defensive. “No, I don’t. You just ruined the sweatshirt, so you might as well keep it.”

   “Sure I did,” you replied sing-songy as you walked out and to your classroom to get ready for the school day.

   Some night later that week, you got a random phone call from Melissa.

   “Hello?” you picked up.

   “Y/N…”

   “Mel,” you prompted when she didn’t say anything.

   “I…”

   “What’s wrong?”

   “Nothing, nothing… just wanted to say ‘hi.’”

   “Are you at home?” you asked.

   “Yeah,” Melissa replied slowly, not sure what you were asking. Without giving her an answer, you hung up.

   You found yourself knocking on Melissa’s front door. When she opened the door, you pulled her out to your car. “Come on.”

   You drove in silence until you weren’t sure where exactly you were. You parked the car in an empty parking lot and turned to face Melissa. “What’s going on?”

   “I should be asking you,” she laughed. “You’re the one who kidnapped me in the middle of the night.”

   “You wanted to say something. I thought the drive might help you let it out.”

   You spent the next half hour talking about everything under the sun. Learning about each other’s childhood, their likes and dislikes, but the real reason Melissa called you never came up. It was still nagging her in the back of her brain. Hoping to draw out the time with her, you played with your keys and tried to think of new questions, random questions that meant nothing except for more time with Melissa. Eventually, though, you had to drive her home.

   You spent a long portion of the drive home going in slow, convoluted loops.

   “Where are you going?” Melissa asked.

   “I’m just getting you home the long way,” you lied through your teeth.

   “There’s only one way back to my house from here.”

   “Right,” you replied, turning around back towards her house.

   When you finally got back to Melissa’s house, you got out of the car and walked her to the front door.

   “Y/N,” Melissa whispered as she pulled you close to her by the collar of her – your – sweatshirt that you were wearing.

   “Melissa…”

   “What I wanted to say…” She paused for a supportive breath. “I love you.”

   “I love you too,” you whispered back as you leaned in for your first kiss with Melissa Schemmenti, hopefully the first of many.

[backstabbvrs]

You, in the quiet after midnight

Gojo Satoru x female!reader

Summary: You’ve known Gojo since college. Now he’s your boss, you’re his secretary, and neither of you talks about the nights you spend tangled together. It was fine—until the party, the jealousy, and everything you’ve been avoiding finally comes out.

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, friends with benefits, emotional vulnerability, jealousy, past relationship, slow burn, unresolved feelings, suggestive content, boss/secretary dynamic, miscommunication, college flashbacks, complicated emotions, soft heartbreak, longing, no happy ending

wc; 1,925

You’re sitting at your favorite corner of your cluttered desk—where chipped coffee mugs, a jumble of handwritten notes, and faded polaroids of long-ago college days create a world all your own. Tonight, your anonymous blog is alive with hundreds of followers who crave your raw, unfiltered truth. And as you begin to type, you can’t help but spill out every detail of a story that has defined you: the story of how you met Gojo in college, how that quiet connection blossomed into something fierce and forbidden, and how life twisted your fates so that now you’re not just a distant memory from his past but the one he calls his trusted secretary.

It all began on the sun-soaked walkways of your sprawling college campus—a time when every moment felt limitless and every heartbeat echoed with possibility. You remember that first day, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of fresh grass. Amid the chatter and rush of new beginnings, you caught sight of him. Gojo was nothing if not magnetic even then—a mischievous glint in his eyes, an effortless smile that dared the world to dream beyond its confines. In lecture halls and quiet corners of the library, you gravitated toward him, drawn in by his unspoken promise of secrets and escapes from the ordinary.

Late nights found you both in conversation, hidden away from the indifferent hum of campus life. Between the clatter of dormitory laughter and the soft rustle of turning pages, you shared stories of youthful hope and reckless ambition. You became each other’s confidant, a confidante who understood every unpolished desire and every uncertain whisper of longing. Together, you scribbled down your ideas on scraps of paper and poured your hearts into midnight essays on life, love, and the endless possibility that seemed to flicker in every stolen glance. Every shared smile was a secret pact—a silent promise that the bond you were building was unique, worth cherishing despite the chaos of a world that rarely spared such delicate treasures.

Time marched on, and the carefree days of college faded into the inevitable hum of adulthood. While you both ventured toward your separate destinies, fate conspired to reunite you in the most unexpected of ways. Gojo transformed before your eyes into the unstoppable CEO he is today—a man whose brilliance and ambition now command entire boardrooms and shape corporate empires. And you, with all your quiet strength and the gentle wisdom honed through every heartache, found yourself by his side yet again, chosen to be his secretary—the one person who knew him as intimately as the pages of your secret journal.

Tonight is the firm’s annual party, an extravagant affair dripping with high-powered allure and the promise of a shimmering future. The ballroom glows under dim, artful lighting, the walls echoing with laughter, clinking glasses, and a music beat that vibrates through the soles of your worn-out shoes. You enter in a dress you spent hours perfecting—a dress that hugs your curves, speaks of quiet confidence, and hides a storm of conflicting memories underneath its delicate fabric. Every step you take carries the weight of your past and the uncertainty of what the present might bring.

Across the room, behind a cascade of elegant suits and brilliant smiles, stands Gojo. His presence is commanding, as it always has been, yet there is a palpable tension that sets your heart racing as it did in those long-forgotten college days. The man in front of you is now the epitome of success—a brilliant CEO whose every gesture speaks of power and responsibility. Yet as your eyes meet his, you catch a glimpse of the tender vulnerability that once made him the playful rebel of your youth. For a fleeting moment, you see the echo of those late-night confessions, that unguarded glimpse into his soul that you captured in countless scribbles and whispered lines.

But tonight is not simply a reunion of old memories—it is tainted by a recent betrayal that lingers like a bruise on your heart. Just days ago, you had almost stumbled on a secret that shattered your once unblemished trust. In a moment of unexpected clarity, you’d passed by his sleek, modern office and had paused at the slightly open door. There, a scene unfolded that you could neither ignore nor forget: Gojo, laughing with another woman in a way that would have been so tender, so intimately charged, had sent a jolt of bitter disillusionment crashing through you. It wasn’t a scandalous affair in the public eye, but to you, it was as if every cherished memory had been defiled by an act of careless indifference.

The memory clings to you as you wend your way through the shimmering throng of colleagues and admirers. Every interaction at the party—a flirtatious glance, a whispered word, even the subtle turn of an eyebrow—brings you face-to-face with both the love of your past and the scars of betrayal. And then, amid the soft murmur of negotiations and the superficial glow of success, you sense Geto moving gracefully through the crowd. Geto, your confidante and staunch ally in every twist of fate, has always been the one to speak truth wrapped in playful sarcasm. As she nears, her eyes lock onto Gojo and, in a low but piercing tone meant only for him, she murmurs a teasing yet charged admonishment: “If you keep staring like that, you’re gonna burn a hole in her dress.” Those words slice through the ambient noise, a reminder of every instance when words left unspoken and actions left unchallenged had carved deeper into your wounded heart.

Before long, the charged atmosphere compels you to step away from the ceaseless parade of polished smiles and forced laughter. You find solace in a quiet alcove—a dimly lit corner near an unpretentious bar where the world seems to slow down just enough for secrets to spill and hearts to bare themselves. It is here, amidst the soft hum of background music and the muted glow of candlelight, that Gojo finally approaches you. His footsteps are soft but deliberate, each one echoing the burden of unspoken memories and the gravity of a decision made too late. Standing in this private haven, away from the relentless scrutiny of the party, he speaks in a tone that trembles with all the vulnerability you never dreamed a CEO could show: “Can we talk? Somewhere private…?”

For a heartbeat, you are suspended between desire and defiance. The man before you—the man who once shared whispered secrets in the hush of the night, whose laughter had lit up your world—now looks at you with eyes heavy with regret and longing. And as his words hang between you, every memory—the stolen conversations under starlit skies, the exchanges of heartfelt promises scribbled in notebooks, the laughter that once bridged the gap between youthful hope and the ache of reality—comes crashing back, raw and undeniable.

Your pulse pounds in your ears as you try to articulate the storm inside you, yet the betrayal, the hurt of that recent moment, steals your voice. Finally, with a tremor that betrays both your resolve and the deep fissures in your heart, you whisper, “I don’t think there’s anything left to say, Gojo.” The words are soft, almost lost in the heavy silence that envelops you both—a silence as long and lingering as the nights you once spent pouring your heart out on your anonymous blog to hundreds of loyal readers who understood every tear-stained confession.

For a long, agonizing moment, the space between you seems infinite—a vast expanse filled with every forgotten dream and every regret left unspoken. In that stretch of time, the ambiance of the party retreats, leaving you alone with the swirl of your memories: the passionate debates about life’s meaning in the college dorms, the impulsive declarations of undying loyalty scribbled in hurried texts, and the secret poetry of your soul that once believed nothing could ever shatter the bond you shared.

Then, as if summoned by fate itself, Geto reappears like a ghost from your past—a steadfast reminder that while the past is etched into every contour of your being, you must forge a future too. Her previous teasing words reverberate in your mind, a bittersweet echo of opportunities missed and hearts left waiting for answers. With every beat of your aching heart, you realize that this confrontation, this charged exchange, is merely another chapter in a story that has spanned years, one that has seen trust and betrayal intertwine like ink on paper.

The party, with its polished veneer and glamorous distractions, continues unabated around you. Yet in that secluded corner, every fleeting glance from Gojo, every subtle shift in his stance, speaks volumes of a past that refuses to be erased. You watch him—his eyes glistening with an intensity that mirrors your own inner turmoil—and you know that despite the confident façade he maintains in boardrooms and high-profile meetings, there is a part of him that aches as deeply as you do. That part of him that remembers the effortless connection of shared dreams, the quiet moments when the future seemed bright and unburdened by the weight of betrayal.

As you finally step back into the swirling current of the party, your heart is heavy with the collision of past and present. Every whisper from the crowd, every flash of an approving smile from a stranger, feels like a reminder of the many layers of yourself that have been worn and weathered over time. You can already sense that later tonight, away from the watchful eyes of a world that only sees what is polished and perfect, you will return to the solitude of your room. There, by the soft glow of your computer screen, you will document this night in a post on your anonymous blog—a post that will capture the raw, unedited truth of your experience as if it were a confession meant for a trusted friend.

In that moment, you realize that while nothing may be resolved tonight—the betrayal remains, the unspoken words still linger, and the promise of what once was dances just out of reach—you are standing at the precipice of a new beginning. The story you have long chronicled on your blog is far from over. It is a living narrative, evolving with every heartbeat, every missed chance, every tender memory, and every painful secret.

So you take a final, lingering look at the glittering ballroom and the man who has haunted your dreams since college, and you carry with you the hope that someday, the shattered remnants of the past might be gathered up and reassembled into something whole. Until that day comes, every unsent draft, every raw post, and every tear-stained line you write is proof that your heart—despite every betrayal and every quiet goodbye—still dares to hope. And in that hope, there is a promise: that the love you once knew, with all its messy imperfections and unspoken truths, will one day be more than just a secret lost in the echoes of an anonymous blog.

⸻

You lean back, the clack of the keyboard fading into silence as you read over your words one last time. The room is quiet now, the noise of the party just a distant murmur, and in that stillness, you know this isn’t the end. It’s simply another entry in a story that continues to unfold—one where every scar, every whispered regret, and every hopeful heartbeat is immortalized in the unending search for healing, understanding, and maybe, finally, reconciliation.

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐐𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

“Some incorrect quotes for my ocs! I’m trying to motivate myself, and I think it’s working? I mean, this was fun to do.” - Ichor

TW // None?

|°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| - {Pt.2}

~���️♞⚜️~ Eminence ~⚜️♞⚜️~

Asclepius: Hey Hydra, do you have any shaving cream?

Hydra: No, I don’t like the way it tastes…

Leviathan: Wait…

Hydra: What?

Asclepius: Did you eat the shaving cream?

Hydra: No, why would I when I don’t like how it tastes?

Solor to you: This is why we can’t have nice things, little maiden.

~⚜️♞⚜️~

You, texting Asclepius: Ace! Help, I’m being kidnapped.

Asclepius: Where are you?!

You: I’m with a strange marine. In a car. Help.

Asclepius: I’m vox Solor.

Solor, surprisingly answering: What, snake?

Asclepius: Where’s our bonded. They texted they were being kidnapped.

Solor: What? They are with me? Oh by the throne-

Solor:

Solor: *Hangs up*

Solor: Little maiden, the haircut isn’t that bad.

You: WHO ARE YOU?!

~⚜️♞⚜️~ Mini Marines ~⚜️♞⚜️~

Saveth: You can trust me! Let’s not forget who pulled you out of the tub of water when you were in a rage.

Sarvak: Let’s not forget who pushed me in.

~⚜️♞⚜️~

Atheloca: How do Saveth and Sarvak usually get out of trouble?

Scarab: They don’t. They just make a bigger mess that cancels out the first one.

~⚜️♞⚜️~

Sarvak: How about a new Christmas idea? Instead of kissing under the mistletoe you have to beat them in a fist fight?

You: Sarvak, no.

Saveth:

Saveth: Mistlefoe.

You: Do not encourage him!

~⚜️♞⚜️~ Watcher ~⚜️♞⚜️~

Horos: We have to get to the apothecary, and we have to get there fast.

You: Then I should drive.

Celsus: Why you?

You: I have nothing to live for, and I drive like it.

Horos: Okay, let’s do it.

Everyone in the (modified) car: *Screaming*

~⚜️♞⚜️~

You, sneaking back inside the modern mansion at 4am.

Celsus, flicking on the lights and turning towards you: So, where were you?

You, internally panicking: I- I was with Atlas.

Atlas, coming from a shadowed corner: Want to try again, little one?

~⚜️♞⚜️~

You: I prevented a murder today.

Pythios: Really? How did you do that?

You: Self control.

~⚜️♞⚜️~

You: God, give me patience.

Sabinus: I think you mean “give me strength.”

You: If god gave me strength, you would be dead.

~⚜️♞⚜️~

Celsus: Where you going?

You: To get an ice cream or commit a felony. I’ll decide on the way there.

~⚜️♞⚜️~ Flourish Ambition ~⚜️♞⚜️~

Ambrosio: I’m incredibly fast at math.

You: Alright, what’s 30 x 17?

Ambrosio: ✨47✨

You: That’s not even close…

Ambrosio: But it was fast.

~⚜️♞⚜️~

You: I can’t believe we’re in this room together.

Ambrosia, crushing the key: Truly unfortunate.

~⚜️♞⚜️~

You: Is something burning?

Ambrosia: Just my love for you.

You: …Ambrosio, the hair spray is on fire.

~⚜️♞⚜️~ Set Validity ~⚜️♞⚜️~

You: I’d love a guy who’s sensitive and caring, manly but with a loving side, you know?

Blasius: *A mass of tentacles and is a cannibal.*

You:

You: I want that one.

~⚜️♞⚜️~ Moy Mir ~⚜️♞⚜️~

You: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I’ll wait.

Spartak: You and me, little world.

You, nervous: Y-yeah! Okay…

~⚜️♞⚜️~ Blue & Red ~⚜️♞⚜️~

Sauron: I was arrested for being too cool.

You: The charges were dropped due to the lack of evidence.

“@kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.”

“+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @marcela2000, @passionofthesith, @insanity6666.” - Tagged

[ladyymiisa]

PINCH ‘EM!

summary: katsuki just loves your cheeks!

tags: katsuki bakugo x fem!reader, fluff, katsuki is a tease

author’s note: starting the new year off strong with katsuki fluff!! i luv him sm

if there’s one thing about you that drives katsuki absolutely insane on a daily basis, it’s your cheeks.

those soft, round, ridiculously cute, rosy cheeks that make his brain glitch like an old vending machine. they give him such violent cuteness aggression that he’s genuinely considered throwing himself off a rooftop just to reset. it’s humiliating, really, how much power your dumb face has over him.

but watching you eat? that’s a whole other level of torture. the way your cheeks puff out with every bite, like you’re stockpiling food for winter, makes his eye twitch in equal parts annoyance and affection. he calls you chipmunk, because honestly, you might as well be one. it’s absurd, it’s irrational, and it’s ruining his life. but here he is, still watching, still obsessed, like the fool he is.

“kats—ow!” you whine mid food gulp, flinching as his fingers suddenly latch onto your cheeks like a crab on a mission. with zero warning, he starts squishing and pulling them, treating your face like it’s his own personal stress toy. “what the hell are you doing?”

you manage to gripe, trying to pry his hands off your poor, defenseless cheeks. your words are muffled as he stretches them in every direction, but he doesn’t bother answering. he’s far too focused on whatever weird satisfaction he’s getting from turning your face into putty in his hands.

“try that again,” he growls, giving your cheeks another firm pinch, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. “and i’ll squeeze ‘em even harder.”

you glare at him, your face still trapped in his grip. it’s hard to take him seriously when his smug smirk is stretched across his face like he just won the lottery. however, it’s clear that your discomfort is his entertainment, and it makes you want to bite back, but you can’t seem to muster the energy to do so.

meanwhile, katsuki is having the time of his life. it’s not his fault your skin is so damn malleable, like some kind of stress ball he can just squish and pull at his leisure. with every pinch, your face contorts in the most ridiculous ways, and it only makes his shit-eating smirk grow wider, as if he’s proud of the mess he’s making.

“y’look so stupid,” he mutters under his breath, loud enough for you to hear, though it sounds more like he’s speaking to himself. “stupid chipmunk,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost fond.

before you can even process what’s happening, his face is in front of yours, and with no warning, he plants a big, exaggerated smooch right on your lips. it’s awkward, considering how he’s still squishing your cheeks together, making your lips pucker out like a weird fish, but somehow, you can’t help but find it endearing.

then he does it again, this time a bit harder. and again. and again. each kiss lands wherever he can reach—your lips, your nose, your forehead, even your eyelids—like he’s trying to cover every inch of your face. you feel warmth spread across your chest from the tenderness of his gestures, even if they’re a little ridiculous. despite the absurdity of the situation, there’s something unexpectedly sweet about the way he’s so gentle with you, even when he’s teasing you relentlessly.

you’re about to tease him right back for being such a softie, ready to throw out a playful jab when, of course, he just has to ruin the moment.

“ew, katsuki!” you yelp, your voice high-pitched with surprise as he suddenly sinks his teeth into your right cheek. it’s not hard enough to hurt, more like a playful nip, but it’s wet and the way his tongue shamelessly flickers against the bite mark sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. you try to push him off, but he’s latched onto you like some feral animal.

“seriously?!” you gasp, squirming in his grip, but he remains completely unbothered. “this is disgusting! my cheek’s all wet now!” you cry, twisting and turning in his arms, trying to wipe the saliva off with your shoulder.

“serves you right for biting my shoulder earlier. y’thought i’d forget? hah.” he says with a wicked smirk, leaning back just enough to admire the mess he’s made of your face—flustered, pouty, and still glistening with the aftermath of his attack.

you groan, smacking his chest in frustration, but the bastard doesn’t even flinch. in fact, he looks proud of himself.

“you’re the absolute worst, katsuki bakugo.” you glare at him, half-exasperated, half-amused.

“yeah, i’m fuckin’ terrible,” he grins, clearly enjoying the annoyance in your voice. to emphasize his words—and to annoy you even further probably—he pinches the same cheek he just bit like an overbearing grandma checking to see if you had enough to eat.

yup, katsuki loves your cheeks, especially when they’re all flushed because of him.

[kabr0ztrousers]

Can you do a part 2 to the Concerning Portal?

I love your work ♥️

Kabr0z Writes episode 72: Concerning Portals part 2

Also entitled: Job Interview

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

Find episode 8: Concerning Portals here!

CWs: Dubcon; interspecies; public sex; portals; creampie; tentacles; oral sex; Noncon;

A/N: The biggest question is why, after being railed and free-used by an indeterminate number of massive flared cocks, why would she put on the panties again?

I was gonna have the reader be in a job interview and gradually losing control, but that's a heap of dialogue that doesn't super work in second person

#########################################

A good pair of knickers is hard to find. So when you get a pair that really, properly fits, you aren't going to ge trid of them because you were wearing them that time a mysterious portal decided to open itself in your pants. Besides, your job interview is this afternoon, and you need your lucky undies on your side today of all days.

You took the train. Hopefully you're able to land the job, then you'll be making enough to actually get a driving license. As it was, you spent far too much on a train ticket into the city and still didn't manage to get a seat, holding on to one of the bars rising from floor to ceiling to brace against the movement of the carriage. Your phone buzzed, an email came through from the hiring manager. You hadn't heard of the company, Creadle and Crabnuts Innovations, but when they reached out to you offering twice your salary for the same job, you'd be a fool to not hear them out at least. The email was just a confirmation of the appointment, with a link to an interview package to leaf through. Not what you'd call standard, but you had half an hour to kill before your station. At least the train was non-stop, so it's not getting any busier.

Your thumb brushed the touchscreen, following the link. You were expecting some cheesy corporate webpage or maybe some generic grounding exercises. Instead, the link just contained a picture of your front door, a hand pushing a familiar package through the letterbox, and the words "Welcome to your interview"

The gusset of your knickers heated up. You flashed back to the bus, craning your neck to see where the bathroom was on your carriage. The indicator confirmed your fear: occupied. A screen showed all the bathrooms on the train, each one occupied in turn. Something wet slid across your cunt.

You started to move, pushing your way past commuters jammed in the aisle of the carriage, none of them giving you space to move. The wet thing was sliding across you, probing your holes for purchase. You reached the front of the carriage, hammering the "open" button on the door that would get you to the front alcove, and relative privacy.

It didn't respond. A thin tendril probed your clitoral hood, pushing under it to nestle next to the fleshy nub of your clit. It was cold, the low temperature sending an aching needle through your abdomen. It moved, slightly at first, then with growing speed and vigour. The tendril fucked the fold of skin over your most sensitive place. Aggressively thrusts and rubbing. Cold slime oozed. The consistency of vaseline. It slopped around your cunt. Another tendril joined. This went for your pussy. A third for your asshole. Cold lube covered you. Your legs hurt. You couldn't stand. An armrest stopped your fall. Clinging on with both hands. Doubled over.

Your face was in a man's lap. You panted there. The man looked down at you, clinging to his armrest, panting and whining. Your back arching and your ass held up. He looked around before opening his fly. He fumbled out his cock, thick and uncircumcised.

A tendril invaded your ass. You gasped as it slipped inside, pushing you forward an inch. The man in the seat took that as an approval. His fingers clutched the back of your hair, maneuvering you around to kneel, legs under the seat in front. The man next to him dozed against the window, dead to the world. His cock rubbed over your face as the third tendril rubbed your pussy, aiming for the last unviolated hole.

A sucker planted itself on your clit, pulling on it as the first one still tried to find an opening in the skin at the top of your vulva. You moaned, a wave of pleasure joining a sharp pain as your unprepared body was subjected to such attention.

The cock went straight to your throat. The tip of his foreskin tickled your tonsils as your throat tightened against him, trying to gag. His fist tightened, gripping your hair close to the scalp as his hips gyrated into your face. Hand and hips, working in perfect tandem to fuck your face while three tentacles abused your cunt.

It was just too much. Your hips rolled as muffled moans flowed from you. Your hands moved unbidden, one clutching the man's unshaven balls, rolling them between your fingers as the other wrapped around the base of his cock, jacking him off into your mouth. The muscles in your lower abdomen flexed and worked as one, milking the tentacles inside you. You felt them spill their cold payload into you, spraying and squirting even as you tried in vain to hump and grind against them.

The two in your holes withdrew, the third was leaking that cold fluid over your clit and down your legs. Another two took the well-prepared place of them as the man groaned and held you down, spurting his spunk down your throat.

Your heart sank, he finished so deep in your throat you didn't even get to taste it. You pulled his cock out of your mouth and started licking it, paying special attention to the head. A few drops of precious cum still seeped out, bitter and metallic.

The best thing you've ever tasted.

The new tentacles went deeper. You could feel the one in your ass worming its way through you, distending your belly as it found its way up you.

Your hand left the man's cock, slipping down tot under your panties. The tentacles were coming from who-knows where, but that's not what you cared about.

Your questing fingers found the tentacle on your clit, rubbing at it, feeling it squeezing out the cold cum as it pulsed and shook on you. Two more orgasms washed over you as the tentacle outperformed any vibrator you'd ever used, sucking and shaking, making you squeak and squirm, voice muffled by the spent cock in your mouth.

You felt the train slowing. The tentacles receded and the portal closed. You gave the man a small kiss on the cheek as you made for the door.

You got off, and collapsed into a chair on the platform. Your phone buzzed again.

"Congratulations on passing your interview with Creadle and Crabnuts Innovations. We will be in touch."

What kind of job did you just get?

#########################################

Does it show when I'm writing about something that's 1000% my kink? Does it suck that portal fucking isn't really a thing that can ever exist?

Both of the answers to these questions are "yes"

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

Excuse me, Mr. Loaf Man?

Masterlist²

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Squid Game

Pairing: platonic: Salesman x Reader,

Characters: Salesman, Reader, background homeless people, parents - mom and dad,

Tags: gn!child!Reader, compassionate!Salesman, still unhinged!Salesman, abusive parents, angst, fluff, comfort, 2nd person POV, Reader's POV, alternating POV, 3rd person POV, Salesman's POV, Reader is a single child, obsessed!Salesman,

Warnings: spousal abuse(implied), child abuse, starvation, force feeding, yelling, child negligence, vomiting (mention), Reader is locked in a closet as punishment, cuss word(s) (I think)

Summary: 10 year old Reader prefers spending their time in a park. They can keep themself entertained. Sometimes they see a man walking around, talking with homeless people. After a couple of times, they decide to approach him.

Word count: 6075

Acronyms: (y/n) - your name, (f/n) - father's name, (m/n) - mother's name

A/N: Pretty sure there's dubious pacing; mind any possible grammatical errors or accidental shift of Reader's gender.. Tell me if I missed a tag; I'm weird and I can't write

A/N: I was the one that made the childish drawing above on my tablet. Just for this fanfic. I just edited it a little to look like it's a child showing it (hands are from google). I tried to make reader neutral looking but I couldn't manage. But it's the thought that counts. Don't copy without tagging me.

Reader's POV

You make your way to the nearby park, again. You sort of can't wait, you hope that the kind man will be there today as well. For days you've been bracing yourself how to approach him.

On days when your mom can't immediately pick you up from school, — tuesdays, thursdays and fridays — you learned to keep yourself busy. Your favorite place is at the park. Nobody bothers you there. And one day you saw a man in a suit with bags in each hand. He went up to every homeless man and woman handing out something. You couldn't see it from so far away. No one looks at homeless people. But he does, so he must be kind.

If he's willing to talk to them then maybe he'll talk to you too? No one really likes you either. You don't have any friends. And dad certainly thinks of you as too revolting to look at.

After that day you went to the park every time mom runs late. Keeping an eye out for him. He wasn't always there. But you felt better after getting a glance of him. Also you kept shortening the distance from which you were watching him.

But now you are ready. You didn't have to wait long after arriving. You basically rush up to him and before you can chicken out you speak. "Excuse me, sir…?"

He turns to look at you, his expression a little irritated and curious at being interrupted. A raised eyebrow and a short "Yes?" is enough to make you continue.

"What do you have in those bags, sir?" you ask tilting your head.

He considers you for a moment then he opens one bag, curtly replying "Bread."

You feel your eyes widening at the amount of packaged loaves. Is that what he always offers others? You look up at him eagerly, "Can I have one, please?"

To your astonishment he agrees and lets you take it. "Gamsahabnida, sir." [Thank you, sir] With that you rush back to your spot on the bench.

You happily eat while you see him going through every person. After the last man, he then walks and stops in the centre of the pavement. He does something you didn't see before nor expect. He empties both bags to the ground, bread lands on the ground. And when a man crouching, reaches for one. He stomps on it.

"I gave you a chance, and you made your choice." His voice is loud enough for you to clearly hear what he's saying. "I'm not the one who threw these away." He points to the ground, "It's you, ladies and gentlemen."

And then he starts jumping and crushing the bread. You keep nibbling on your loaf but it does nothing to calm your beating heart at the familiar sight. You know very well it's a reasonable punishment for not eating. You don't understand how they could keep denying the bread to the point that today the kind man had enough of them. You're happy you managed to get one loaf from him.

You keep your gaze down on the ground in front of you. There's still plenty of time until mom can finally drive you home.

So you decide to do your homework. You were already half-way done when lesson ended. You were putting the last touches when a shadow falls on you and your notebook. You glance up to see loaf man staring intensely at you. Does he want to sit here?

Your cheeks flush with shame, you scramble up to pack everything. "S-sorry, sir."

He grabs your wrist to stop you from packing up further. "It's fine. I don't mind." He gives you a small smile. "If I may ask… Why are you here? Where are your parents?"

You hug your exercise book to soothe yourself. "At work. Mom doesn't pick me up until later." A bit of silence passes that you break quietly. "Thank you again for the bread. It was delicious."

In softened voice and a bit slowly the man speaks, "Did I frighten you little one? Are you scared of me?"

You're pinching and rubbing the book cover in a soothing motion. You look at the ground which is when you notice he still has the paper bags but this time containing stomped on bread.

"Not really? I was a little startled when you dumped and crushed the bread… But I get it. My parents don't like it when I refuse to eat either. But usually I have to eat it when dad tells me so; even if I don't like the taste."

"Is that so?" It's told with an edge you can't pick up.

You nod your head, your grip on the book loosens.

"How old are you?"

"…ten…" Your answer is mumbled enough that the man has to lean in closer to hear it.

"You're ten?" He whispered in disbelief. He looks around as if to see if someone finds this unbelievable as well. "…and how long will it be until your mother picks you up?" His eyes jump across your face in search of something.

"It's usually 4:48 PM. Maybe minutes earlier or later. I don't mind it much. I'm a big kid."

His eyes darkened for a moment only to be swiftly replaced by softness and calmness. He sends you a charming smile. "Then you wouldn't mind my company then?"

You shake your head and that's that.

Since Mr. Loaf Man doesn't mind, you unpack again to finish the rest of your homework. He doesn't speak to you again. Just sits there, quietly observing you. After you finish every homework you had, you decide to play around. A little hide and seek. Mr. Loaf Man even played along with you! When time neared 4:30 you already have everything in your backpack and are ready to head back to your school gate. That was the moment when he offered to walk you there. He's so kind! Of course you readily agreed.

After arriving to your school, he makes sure you'll be okay alone and walks away. You only wait six minutes after that for your mom to come. You step into the car and buckle your seatbelt.

"Did you have fun at school sweetie?"

"Yes, mom. Just like always. I even got to solve an equation and write it on the board!" You say with excitement.

"That's amazing, sweetie."

...

"Mom…?" she hums, "…what's for dinner today?"

"Maybe… Baechu Guk, hmm?" You actually like it so maybe it won't be that bad today. You will lick the plate clean! And dad will be happy. It's not your favorite but at least it's not sannakji. You felt really sick after eating that. You hate it but dad makes sure you eat it everytime it's served. You can cry and scream but dad knows how to force you to swallow it. But more often than not, you throw up afterwards. And then you don't get to eat for couple days. As a way to make up for you wasting food.

Mom parks the car before your house. You quickly get out to help her carry the grocery bag. She opens the door and you make your way to the kitchen. Not before quickly taking off your shoes. In fast moves you set everything on the table and then place things in the correct cupboards (those that you can reach).

Your mom walks in, having already hung her coat. "That's okay, (y/n). I have it from here. You go to your room and do your homework, okay? Food will be ready in half an hour." She rubs your head.

"Okay mom." You go to the front door to leave your jacket on the hanger. You hurry to your room.

You only have 30 minutes to think of a gift for Mr. Loaf Man. You need to show your gratitude. It's proper.

But you don't know what he likes… A bracelet is out, he doesn't seem like the type. Besides it's more a gift for girls. A key chain? You don't know his favorite colors though, so it's out too.

A picture maybe? Nothing goes wrong there. Maybe it's a little basic… But you might be able to give him something better later on.

But you want it to look, if not good, decent enough. It has to show your gratefulness. So minutes pass as you test out different colors and positions and something always didn't sit quite right. It turns out ugly. You ended up re-doing it every time. You couldn't decide what else to draw when mom calls for dinner.

Dad already sat in his chair, his face forever frozen on expressing frustration. You join the table as mom brings food.

First portion goes to dad then mom and then to you. You wait until dad starts eating.

"(y/n), tell your dad what you managed to do today."

You nod your head, enthusiastic to share your accomplishment. Dad might be happy too. "I got to do an exercise in front of the whole class! I solved every equation correctly."

He scoffs, "What is there to be proud of? You probably forgot to do your homework."

You lower your head and focus on eating, every ounce of excitement leaving your body.

"(f/n)!"

"What?! You know I'm telling the truth! They're incompetent! Not even the top of their class." He grunts and goes back to eating.

"They're capable enough not to need help with homework. (y/n), did you manage to finish everything your teacher gave you?"

Forgetting to swallow, you answer that yes, you did. Your mother continues, "See? They did that in half an hour."

Dad growls and bangs his hand on the table. "Are you blind, (m/n)?! Did you not see what I did? How many times have I repeated myself- No talking with your mouth full! Clearly (y/n) is a useless brat! Nothing stays in that head."

You curl in on yourself further. Wishing to become invisible in this moment. But you also hurry with Baechu Guk to avoid angering him further. And because you're going to need it. As you know you can't avoid your punishment for forgetting a rule. Thankfully this time your dad decides to punish you after dinner.

Mom cleans the table while dad grips your small arm and leads you to the punishment closet. He shoves you inside. "You should know the deal. But since you're a forgetful dumbass, I'll repeat it for you." He leans closer to your face, disgust clear on his face. "You stay here as long as the number of times you broke the rules. For every disobedience is 10 more minutes. Today marks 110 minutes, congratulations. Now, quiet!" He hissed the last part. With that he slams the closet shut. You hear him lock the closet door with a key.

You're shaking all over. Alone in the darkness, dreading how long 110 minutes will feel like. You feel your tears run down your cheeks. You hope he won't forget to get you out. You won't have time to do Mr. Loaf Man that drawing otherwise… You hope that this friday he'll be there and won't mind your company again.

earlier, Salesman's POV

He's heading toward the park where most of the homeless reside. It's the latest whim of the frontman. Social experiments. As if humanity has any hope for redemption. Especially the trash. He's confident it's the fault of player 456 for this idiocy.

Arrogance seems to be a heritable trait for winners. They think of themselves as special. Player 456 with his will to put a stop to the games and player 132… well, being chosen as the next frontman and successor by the host surely went to his head.

He arrives to the park when he hears someone run in his direction. He was ready to pay them no mind. He's far more irritateable today. He keeps walking until he hears a child's voice. "Excuse me, sir…?"

Curious what a child might want from him, he turns his head to look at them. He lets out a clipped "Yes?". Though he had no intention for it to come out unkind. Apparently today the hold on his mask is far looser than he thought.

Astonishingly the child isn't deferred by his sharpness. With a tilt to their head they ask the last question he expected. Which it shouldn't have been, considering the circumstances.

"What do you have in those bags?"

He considers for a moment what to do. Ignore, not ignore, lie or not. But he sees no harm in answering truthfully. He shifts his hold to open one of the bags so the child can see inside. He says "Bread." with more stable tone, but still has some curtness to it.

He sees their eyes widen with wonder. Their mouth goes slack in shock. They look back up at him in seconds asking if they can have one.

He agrees. One package less won't interfere with overall choice of the less fortunate. There's always more than enough bread left over. Not many choose food over a lottery ticket.

They rush off after saying "Gamsahabnida, sir!". And he goes about his routine. He approaches men, among which only one chose to take the packaged bread and immediately inhaled it. The few women there are a different matter. Within the four only one chose lottery. It always seems like females are smarter in that regard. It's never enough though.

But today, there was something about their choices that kept adding fuel to his already bad mood. He stops in the front, puts down his suitcase and the bags. Then he takes one bag after the other and spills their contents to the ground. Homeless crowd moves with confused apprehension. He pays them no mind.

He feels a twitch of apathy at the quantity. This pile of bread shows exactly why natural selection is so important. Here's proof that humanity's advancement in medicine not only helped raise quality of life, but also allowed inferior genes to survive. Some characteristics should've died out a long time ago.

"Why would you throw away perfectly good food like that?" Unbelievable. The audacity of the question. Doesn't the damn hypocrite hear himself? He declined it, preferred a hopeless chance at winning lottery over nutrition.

The revolting scum reaches for the bread. The entitlement astounds him and he won't let it stand. He crushes the bread with his shoe. But he gains no satisfaction witnessing the uncomprehending expression. "I gave you a chance, and you made your choice."

It doesn't register in their microscopic brains. His voice raises: "I'm not the one who threw these away." he point at the ground to emphasize, "It's you, ladies and gentlemen."

But he observes no shift in their expressions or postures. No change. No remorse. Nothing.

Their lack of critical thinking and absolute absence of self-awareness among them drive him into a frenzy.

He stomps and jumps with fervor, squashing as many bread buns as he can. He unleashes on these packages his tightly contained frustration and anger toward this crowd, his boss and that stupid player 456.

His energy runs out fairly quickly but he feels slightly better for it.

He presses his hands against his face, applying pressure to further ground him to the present. Tries to fix his hair then straighten his spine and tucks in the tie.

He look around to see which packages survived the ordeal. He picks up each one that did and puts them back into the bag. The ungrateful vermin don't deserve good things that's clear.

He's back hiding away behind his calm and unbothered mask. He makes a move to turn around and leave when he sees them. The same child that inquired after the bread.

They're still here? Why? If they saw his actions, why do they remain around? And… are they doing homework?!

He finds himself puzzled and his feet lead him to them automatically. He can't avert his eyes from the sight. Apparently unbothered by the scene he caused just now. He stands there casting a shadow over their book.

You startle and seem in a hurry to make space for him to sit. Except… It looks like you want to get away entirely. He doesn't want that. He takes hold of your wrist to stop you.

"It's fine, I don't mind." He aims for a reassuring smile and doesn't know if he succeeds. "If I may ask… Why are you here? Where are your parents?" Why are you alone when anything tragic can happen to you at anytime?

He notes you're a little nervous or shy but aren't hostile toward him. "At work… Mom doesn't pick me up until later." How much later? He's a psychopathic man who keeps up a facade on a daily basis just to pass as normal; and even he knows it's negligent to leave someone so small and innocent without protection. Wasn't there a saying or a quote telling children should be cherished? Is society at such a low point it's acceptable nowadays? A spark of anger lights up within him, again. Your voice brings him back from his thoughts.

"Thank you again for the bread. It was delicious." Such a polite child. He notes that you still hang on that book for dear life.

He slows his words intentionally, softens his tone to not unnerve you further. "Did I frighten you, little one? Are you scared of me?"

He observes your body, hands are shaking a little, fingers twitching at the book cover.

"… My parents don't like it when I refuse to eat either. But usually I have to eat it when dad tells me so. Even if I don't like the taste."

You answer quietly, but oh. Hearing that you not only understand his actions but your dad forces you to eat something you don't enjoy. That's a brand of cruelty that he finds distasteful. Forcing anybody to anything they're unwilling to is atrocious. At least, he manipulates and twists other's perceptions until people agree by themselves. He has enough finesse to do it the correct way after all.

"Is that so?" You only nod your head. Moreover you're not as tense anymore. Maybe that's what spurs him on to ask the next question, even if it has the ability to anger him further. "How old are you?" He leans in quickly enough to hear you say ten.

T e n .

"You're ten?" He voices his disbelief so quietly he doesn't know if he made any noise. He looks to his right then left almost looking for any possible threat because this child is ten years old and alone, left to their own devices. He's breathless for a moment, because at this discovery he feels unreasonably protective. "…and how long will it be until your mother picks you up?" His eyes take every detail of your face, hoping that it won't be long. But his hopes are crushed like the bread beforehand.

"It's usually 4:48PM…" What kind of parent leaves a child alone for 3 hours?! Truly horrible one, apparently.

"…I'm a big kid." Ohh… The instinct to kill anyone who would even dare to ruin that innocence overwhelms him for a second. He harshly tugs on his control to smile pleasantly at you, "Then you wouldn't mind my company then?"

He receives a shake of your head as an answer. It's so frustratingly easy to have your trust. How come nobody took advantage of that already, he does not know. But he will try his best to keep an eye out for you from now on.

Which he'd be doing a poor job since, at some point, you seemed to have disappeared into thin air from one second to the next. He grew alarmed instantly when he didn't see you next to him. Looking around for you or possible suspects wondering how he didn't notice anyone move. That was until he heard a giggle. He whips around to see a child's shadow behind the tree. He felt instant relief, his heart slowing it's alarming rate.

Apparently someone thought it'd be a good idea to play hide and seek without telling him. And since you're not in danger…

Well… Two can play that game.

"Little one? Where have you gone to?" Another muffled giggle can be heard. "I didn't get to become friends with you properly…" He overexaggerates his sadness. "How will I play with you when I don't even know your name little flower?" He stomps his foot dramatically, childishly, "And now you're gone and we won't meet anymore. Because I don't know how to find you…"

Now those adorable giggles turn into full blown laughter. You step away from the tree and easily run to him to hug his legs.

"You're so silly! We're already friends!" He hugs back to the best of his abilities. And says with, not even faked, surprise: "Really?! I didn't know that!"

"Besides we can meet here in the park, I come here after school, most of the time."

He feels a gentle smile on his face. Being in your presence for such a short time already make him feel lighter and his world a little brighter. Such an easy happiness. "That's good."

"Yeah, also my names is (y/n)! Now you know me." You clap your hands, excited, and go to sit on the bench again.

(y/n), what a beautiful name. I'll protect you, (y/n). No harm will come to you.

He looks at his wristwatch. 4:04. Soon you're getting home. He will walk you there.

When he asks if he can, you agree, again. Turns out he could only walk you to the school gates. Your mother picking you up with a car.

He chose to depart from you, but he stayed to observe from afar. He was displeased since it looked like the mother is malnourished as well as tired. Most of the fault lies solely on your father then. She at least looks a little overworked. It's clear your parents are unfit for the responsibility of caring for a child.

Soon (y/n) will rely on him for everything. He can't wait to meet again.

Back to Reader's POV

When you were finally let out of the closet you were tired. Emotionally drained. You couldn't draw for Mr. Loaf Man now, since you didn't have any energy. You went to the bathroom almost immediately.

Now you are laying on your bed, under the comfort of your blanket and beloved plushie. You pray you'll have time to draw something tomorrow at school. You already put your crayons in your backpack. You just need time. It doesn't even matter to you how it'll turn out. But you can't, won't go empty handed.

You fall into dreamless slumber.

And so you wake up next morning and go through the motions until you're at school. Then at breaks you sit somewhere on the sidelines, using the time to draw the most standard and boring drawing ever. First you did him then yourself. Then you drew a sun in the corner. You wrote who's who just in case. On the next break you drew the green grass and lastly the blue sky.

You're happy it's friday today. That means Mr. Loaf Man and the weekend.

When your lessons end you're in a hurry and have a slight spring in your step. You're basically vibrating with anticipation. You'll head straight to the same bench as yesterday.

But when you arrive… You gasp. He's already there waiting for you. You feel a wide grin spread on your face in happiness. When he notices you, his expression lifts as well.

"Hello (y/n). We're giddy today aren't we?"

"Yes!" You nod your head quickly a couple of times, it made you dizzy. "I have something for you, Mr. Loaf Man!" His eyes widen at that. Whether it's your nickname for him or your gift you don't know. You take off your backpack and immediately open it to reach the drawing.

"I'm sorry it's not good and not pretty enough but I was in a hurry." You hand it to him. He holds it gently as if afraid of crumbling it. He looks at it for a long time in complete silence. So much so that slowly your proud smile gets smaller and smaller. "You don't like it…?" Your voice wavers slightly under your sadness. Your blurry eyes make their way from his face to focusing on his tie.

"What-?" His voice croaks as if he didn't speak for days. "I love it."

You look up at that. "Really?" His face is unguarded. His eys are shiny, one tear already ran down his left cheek. His eyebrows are twitching as if they're unsure which way to go.

"Of course, it's just… it's been… s-such a long while since I got a gift. And one so, so lovely and meaningful as well." He open his arms offering a hug. You take him up on it. His grip on you is unyielding. "Come on, don't cry. There's no need." You hoop your arms around his neck and press your face to his shoulder. He picks you up into his lap. "I appreciate your efforts behind this, alright?" is gently whispered to your ear. You choose this moment to pat his hair, in — what you hope for — is a soothing gesture. You don't know if you succeeded since he started trembling.

He doesn't let you go for a long while. But you don't either.

When both of you are back to decently presentable — and not falling apart — you break away from each other.

"I have something for you too. Nothing as thoughtful though…" He takes the grocery bag that was next to him and reaches inside. He passes to you another packaged bread. You take it and immediately dig in. You thank him for it. "Are you going to offer food to them again? Or did you already did that today?"

He looks at you then to the homeless then back to you. "No and no. I think I'll give them a week to think over their actions, hmm?" He tilts his head in askance.

But you nod your head, "Makes sense. I do that at home too. Maybe it'll work for them too."

His eyes narrow, "What do you mean?"

"When I refuse to eat, I have to. And when i waste food, usually it's after I throw up. I don't get to eat to make up for all the wasted food." You smile up at him, "That's why I like you, sir. You're very kind and fun but you're very fair. But…" You take a thoughtful expression, "I don't get it… why refuse food? They need it after all and unlike me, it's not easily available to them. It'd be really stupid if they did the same in a week."

You focus back on the man's face only to be met with an impressed and proud expression. You feel your cheeks warm up at that look.

"You're very smart and observant, little one;" his soft voice prods at your shyness, "not everyone sees it the same way you do."

When your eyes don't lift from the ground, he speaks up again. "Do you wish to stay here or go somewhere else?"

You look up at him in question.

"What? I have some ideas…"

Salesman's POV

He finds his yesterday's behavior a little ridiculous. Moreover over a child he barely knows anything about. He couldn't put his obssessive focus towards learning more. With only their name and the fact (y/n) has horrendous parents.

Unfortunately for him, he didn't pay any attention to their mother's car registration plate. At least then he'd have a starting point. At this point in time however he can look into the school. The type of students there and the staff.

It did nothing to calm his mind.

He spent his time in bed thinking of many ways to bring them closer to him. How he should go with disposing their parents when he finally learns where you live.

The following morning he wakes from restless sleep and stayed that way throughout his day. Five people he approached to recruit and each time his hand was twitching to use the pent up energy on slapping the trash.

Arriving to the park at similar time as the day before wasn't a problem. Although he automatically sits down on the same bench. Call him overeager and impatient all you want. He has enough patience to wait for you.

And waiting for you he was. He didn't even learn if you have time to come here today.

But he shouldn't have worried, he sees your small form approaching him with clear joy. The moment he notices you, he feels his mood improve. He's not even sure if he manages to contain his own happiness over your eagerness.

"Hello (y/n). We're giddy today aren't we?"

"Yes! I have something for you, Mr. Loaf Man!" His eyes widen at that. Loaf man? However did you come up with that? And did he hear correctly..? You brought something for him?

Quickly your backpack's on the ground and a paper's in your hands. He looks at the paper and his breathing stops. A drawing.

You made a drawing for him, of him and you. "I'm sorry it's not good and pretty enough but I was in a hurry." He can't tear his eyes away from it. He gingerly accepts it from you. Your hands did this. For him. You spent enough of your time thinking about him, in good light nonetheless, that you had to put your thoughts and feelings on paper. It's the most precious thing he came across in a long time.

"You don't like it…?" He barely catches your voice. But when he registers the insecurity in it. He finally looks at you, however it does little, because he doesn't know when he started tearing up.

"What-?" His voice croaks from the sheer pressure of emotions. But he'll sooner kill himself than make you feel inadequate, unappreciated, unloved. "I love it." You have to know that.

"Really?" Fragile hope in your voice is enough to render his tailored armor useless. How does he explain?

"Of course, it's just…" he breathes deeply, "it's been… s-such a long while since I got a gift." Does he even remember the last time? "And one so, so lovely and meaningful as well." He needs to hold you. In this moment he craves to bring you as close as he can to his normally unfeeling heart. He open his arms in invitation.

You take him up on it too.

He grips you strongly. You can't leave him. Not when you demolished his foundation, unearthing emotions he never thought he could feel. You simply can't. He'll lose himself completely.

"Come on, don't cry. There's no need." He doesn't know if it's directed at you or himself. Your small arms wrap around his neck, your face tries to bury itself in his shoulder. He picks you up to hold onto you more comfortably. He presses his head against yours. "I appreciate your efforts behind this, alright?"

His thumb moves up and down on your back. He drowns in his overwhelming love for you. That's when he feels your hand. Your fingers going through his hair, petting him.

Here he is. A monster reduced into quivering mess. Wrapped around your little finger. You're such a devious yet innocent little marvel. You don't even do this on purpose. To have him ready and willing to bend to your every whim in no time at all.

It takes a long while for both of you to calm down and for him to regain his control. You break away from each other when you're sure neither of you won't fall apart all over again.

"I have something for you too. Nothing as thoughtful though…" He reaches next to him for the bag he nearly forgot about. Since he can't trust your parents about your nutrition, he'll take it upon himself. Three hours is a long time for you to grow hungry anyway. There's no harm in providing food. You take the bread from him and with a quick thank you start eating.

"Are you going to offer food to them again? Or did you already did that today?"

He looks at you. You never even talked to them and you're concerned for them. He looks at their pathetic figures, lying, wasting away in the sun. They're undeserving of your concern. He looks back at you and your questioning expression.

"No and no." He shakes his head, he doesn't even want to think about them much less approach. Even if he knows he'll have to at some point. "I think I'll give them a week to think over their actions, hmm?" He tilts his head in mimicry of your action yesterday.

And just like the other times, you don't question his actions nor motives. You simply nod your pretty head.

"Makes sense. I do that at home too. Maybe it'll work for them too."

His eyes narrow at that.

"What do you mean?" He can feel his shackles raising. Such a dangerous territory…

"When I refuse to eat, I have to. And when i waste food, usually it's after I throw up. I don't get to eat to make up for all the wasted food."

So not only is your father shoving food down your throat… He starves you for not holding it down as well. If he ever gets his hands on that repulsive monster, he'll make sure he suffers greatly for his sins.

Your large smile grounds him away from his plans. Even if that smile shouldn't be so wide after talking about your abuse. How did your innocence survive the ordeal?

"That's why I like you, sir. You're very kind and fun but you're very fair."

Him? Fair? Kind? He's flattered you think so, but he doesn't see it. It's probably because your childish view wasn't ruined. You never saw him do anything truly monstrous. He'll make sure you don't.

"But.. I don't get it… why refuse food? They need it after all and unlike me, it's not easily available to them. It'd be really stupid if they did the same in a week." Your pout is very cute and he'd probably focus on it for longer if not for what you said.

You intelligent and observant little creature, you make him feel emotions he didn't before. He's impressed how someone so young can be smarter than the common person. Maybe there's still hope after all. You might not have been acquaintanced for long, barely a day, but he feels pride for your astuteness. He latched onto you. You're his; his light in this dark world with deceptive roads and sharp curves covered with shadows. He'll nurture that intelligence to the best of his abilities.

He sees you blush at his attention, poor thing… You must be so unused to positive attention. He won't let it continue. With a softness he didn't know he's capable of, he voices the compliments. "You're very smart and observant, little one; not everyone sees it the same way you do."

When you still don't look up, he speaks again. This time on a different topic, away from his admiration. Baby steps.

"Do you wish to stay here or go somewhere else?" It works wonders. You look up with a question in your eyes. "What? I have some ideas…

…What do you think about ice-cream?" His suggestion makes your eyes light up with excitement. His world is a little brighter for it.

He'd take you to every shop and buy you anything you'd briefly glance at if that's how you'll look everytime. Just for a chance to see your smiles again.

After ice-cream, you spent the time by simply being in each other's company. You wanted to go back to the park and so you did, but this time to a different part of it. Far away from those hopeless causes. The time flew past just as quickly as the day before. But this time when he walked you to your school's gate and left to observe from afar. He remembered to memorise the licence plate.

He can get to know you to his heart's content. But first, home.

I feel like my brand of weirdness clashed with Salesman's diffrent kind of freak; but I don't think he's too OOC..?

I hope you liked it. <3 There are other parts I have in store, but they can act as stand alone. Tell me if you want me to write them.

There's no masterlist for Squid Game yet

[pillow-priestess]

It's been so long since you've been held, hasn't it? You put on a tough front every single day, but it's not enough to stop the longing. The yearning. Your body aches for a safe and gentle touch, but it's so hard to find the right time, the right person, something to trust.

No longer. I'm here.

It's okay, sweetheart. You know I couldn't hurt you if I tried. Don't tell yourself you don't need this, you don't have to pretend anymore. I can see the way your shoulders sag, the way you can barely clench your fists, the way you're swaying gently closer.

It's alright. You're safe. Come to me.

That's right… just a few more steps. I won't force you. I don't have to.

You need this. You deserve this. A soft touch, a gentle embrace, words of care and love filling your exhausted little head. You don't need to fight anymore. I won't let anything hurt you ever again. Nice and close now… enough for me to just…

… take you in.

Isn't this nice? Isn't this so much better? You're not even within my plush yet, and this is still the softest embrace you've ever felt. So tight and warm, all around you, keeping you close and comfy and safe, protected from the world that's ground you down.

It's going to be better now. I promise.

You want to go deeper, love? Awh, good… thank you for trusting me. This will be even better.

Just let me press you in, guide you in. Let the stuffing slowly surround you. It's so warm, isn't it? All of that fluff hugging every inch of you, nice and cozy. Easy does it… just sink into me.

All the way in, now… held and hugged from every angle. Floating within me, letting me take care of you, it's all that you need. All you'll ever need. I'll keep you safe, darling.

…awh. You're welcome, love. Helping little things like you is what I exist for.

Just close your eyes, now… You know you're safe here. It's time to rest, to relax, to let all that tension from all those years finally slip away. Sleep in my loving embrace. When you wake, perhaps we can talk about what comes next. I'll happily keep you here always, dearest. But if it appeals, I'd love to give you some of my stuffing, let it fill you for good as a new plushie of my own making, ready for a forever of loving and being loved. It's a dream for so many, and I'm so thankful I can make it a reality.

But that comes later. Right now, you can rest… sleep soft and safe and sound in my perfect embrace… warmth filling you, love surrounding you…

This is exactly what you deserve. Goodnight, little one. 💙

[astrangerthatlovesyou]

“It’s okay to not be okay”

Unless it impacts your work performance…

Or your grades

Or how you act

Or if it causes you to say no

Or if you’re harder to be around

Or if you need time alone

Or if you talk about it

Or show symptoms

“It’s okay to not be okay”

Unless you have trauma

Unless you have one of those “scary” mental illnesses

Unless it inconveniences me

Unless you’re undiagnosed

Unless you cry or scream or make a scene

Unless you don’t keep that shit to yourself

Unless you make me uncomfortable

Unless I can’t infantilize or fetishize you

Unless you have hallucinations

Unless you have psychosis

Unless you get angry

Unless I think you’re cringe

Unless you can’t preform hygiene tasks

Unless you’re disabled, or trans, or gay, or not white, or fat, or AFAB, or intersex, or a man… so I guess anyone

“It’s okay to not be okay”

As long as nobody ever finds out.

Our society has a severe issue with performative activism, and mental health is a huge example of this. Every time someone considers reaching out, they run through this list mentally. This is why true activists and resources need to be loudly supportive of all the things on this list. Take the subtext out of your support.

[ashinbloom]

Elegy for a Boymoder

"No, no no!" you shout, "I don't need domesticated, Miss Favali! I'm fine!"

"Petal," she speaks slowly, "I need you to put the knife down."

Without even thinking, you wave the knife through the air. "Why? I'm fine. I'm FINE!"

"I don't think you're fine, little one."

"I'm fine!" Your hand trembles around the knife. "I don't need domesticated and I don't need fixed and I don't need you fucking with my head!"

"What do you need, then?"

"I need you to leave me the fuck alone!" You hold the knife out with a shaky hand. She's already seen the scars, she already knows you're a fuck-up.

"I can't do that, petal. Please, let me help you."

"I don't need your goddamn help!"

"Have you taken your ætherea today?"

"I don't need it! It's poison!" You spit your words like the poison that the Affini, that Miss Favali, had tried to make you take. "You just want to fuck with my head so you can domesticate me!"

"Dear, I think you'll feel better if you just--"

"No!"

A tense silence hangs over your hab, the room far too big for you but the perfect size for an affini, and Miss Favali just watches as you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

"Can you put the knife down for me, petal?"

"No!" you shout, "I need it!"

"Whatever would you need that for, little one?"

"Need it! Gotta stay safe. Can't let you hurt me. Can't let anybody hurt me."

"Sweetie," her voice becomes a bit more stern, "I need you to put the knife down now and be a good girl."

'I'm-- I'm--" Your head swims with those words. 'Put the knife down', 'Be a good girl'. Your chest rises and falls inside your oversized hoodie and the knife falls from your trembling hand with a clatter. You collapse to the ground, muttering over and over. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

You shiver as a shadow grows over you, and by the time you look up Miss Favali is bending down to scoop you into her vines.

"Shh, shh, I know you are, dear. It's okay," she tells you as you feel a gentle pinprick in your arm. You look down to see one of her flowers stuck to your arm.

You feel lighter in an instant, and only feel lighter by the second. You can't even remember why you had the knife, why you're crying. Miss Favali continues to coo softly and pulls you further into her vines as she gently removes your clothes from your body. You can see a light inside of her, singing to you and pulsating as her form writhes in an oddly pleasing way.

Your entire body feels amazing as her vines massages your bare chest and shoulders. You don't feel the usual sting of disgust when somebody touches you for the first time since you can't remember when.

"You don't have to be afraid ever again," she assure you in her melodic, soothing voice even though you don't know what you were even scared of in the first place. "I'll take care of you now."

"You will?" Your voice comes out muffled through the pink flower she has pressed to your face. A soft mist coats your mouth and nose, and when you breathe in it smells like cotton candy bubblegum.

"Now and forever, darling. Now, take a deep breath. Growing girls like you need their Class-Gs."

[blank3tsin]

THIGH RIDING  

JUDE BELLINGHAM

THE HOTEL ROOM is dim, the only light spilling from a cracked bathroom door, casting jagged shadows across the plush carpet. The air smells faintly of his cologne—woodsy, sharp, and intoxicating—mixed with the musk of sweat from his earlier match.

Jude lounges on a sleek black armchair in the corner, legs spread wide, his body a masterpiece of taut muscle and coiled power. He's still in his post-game gear: a tight black compression shirt hugging his chest, damp with exertion, and those sinful shorts that cling to his thick thighs like a second skin. His curly hair is a mess, and his lips part as he watches you, eyes dark and predatory.

"Get over here," he says, voice a gravelly rasp that shoots straight to your core.

He slaps his thigh once, hard, the sound echoing in the quiet room, and your cunt clenches instinctively. You're already stripped down to nothing but a thin lace thong and one of his oversized jerseys, the hem brushing your bare thighs as you step closer. The carpet's soft under your feet, but it's the heat radiating off him that makes your skin prickle.

You straddle his thigh without a word, the first contact making you hiss. His quad is rock-hard, warm, and slick with a faint sheen of sweat, and the rough fabric of his shorts drags against the soaked scrap of lace between your legs.

You're dripping already—have been since he walked in, all swagger and testosterone—and the pressure of his muscle against your swollen clit sends a jolt up your spine.

"Fuck," you breathe, and his hands snap to your hips, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise.

"Move," he growls, jerking you forward, and you obey, grinding down on him.

The friction is filthy, exquisite—your slickness smears across his thigh, soaking through your thong and onto his skin, and he groans at the sight.

"Look at you, fucken drenched for me." His voice is pure sin, and it spurs you on, hips rolling faster, chasing that raw, aching need.

Your pussy slides against him, the lace chafing just enough to make you whimper, and every flex of his thigh—deliberate, controlled—has you gasping, clit throbbing against the unrelenting hardness.

He shifts, one hand sliding under the jersey to palm your tit, thumb flicking your nipple until it's peaked and sensitive. The other hand stays on your hip, guiding you, forcing you to ride him harder.

"That's it, baby, fuck my thigh like you mean it," he mutters, eyes locked on where you're grinding against him, watching your cunt leave a glistening trail on his skin.

Your hands clutch his shoulders, nails biting into him, and he hisses, flexing again just to hear you moan—loud, shameless, echoing off the walls.

Your rhythm falters as the pleasure spikes, sharp and overwhelming.

"Jude—shit, I—" you stammer, but he cuts you off, leaning in to nip at your jaw, stubble scraping your skin.

"Don't stop," he orders, voice thick with lust. "Wanna feel you come all over me."

His thigh tenses beneath you, pushing up against your clit, and you're a mess—panting, trembling, slick dripping down his leg as you ride him with abandon. The coil in your gut tightens, snaps, and you shatter with a cry, gushing wet heat across his thigh, body shaking as he holds you through it, murmuring filthy praise against your ear.

Your orgasm still pulses through you, a hot, shuddering wave that leaves your thighs trembling and your breath ragged, but Jude's not done with you. His thigh's soaked now—your slick coats his skin, glistening in the low light, and the sight of it makes his jaw clench, a low, guttural sound rumbling from his chest.

"Fucken hell," he mutters, eyes raking over you, taking in the way your body quivers, the way your drenched thong clings uselessly to your cunt.

His hands tighten on your hips, fingers bruising, and he drags you back into motion before you can even catch your breath.

"You're not tapping out on me yet," he says, voice rough and edged with hunger.

He flexes his thigh again, deliberate and cruel, pressing it hard against your oversensitive clit, and you yelp, the sensation sharp enough to make your whole body jerk. Your pussy's still throbbing, dripping, and every grind against his slick, muscled leg pulls a wet, obscene sound from between you.

It's filthy—the squelch of your arousal mixing with your gasps—and he eats it up, one hand sliding down to grip your ass, spreading you wider so he can feel every twitch of your cunt against him.

"Jude—fuck, it's too much," you whine, but your hips don't stop, can't stop, chasing that brutal, delicious friction even as it borders on torture.

He smirks, dark and wicked, and shifts beneath you, planting his foot flat on the floor so his thigh angles up, hitting you deeper.

"Too much?" he mocks, voice dripping with fake sympathy. "You're soaking me, baby. You love it."

He's right—you do, and the proof's in the way you're grinding harder, clit dragging against him, slick running down his leg to pool on the chair.

His hand on your ass slips lower, fingers brushing the soaked lace of your thong, and then he's tugging it aside, baring your pussy completely. The cool air hits you for a split second before you're back on his thigh, skin on skin now, and the contact's so raw you nearly scream.

"There we go," he growls, watching your cunt slide against him, lips parted and swollen, leaving a shiny mess.

His thumb finds your clit, circling it once, twice, rough and unrelenting, and you're gone—head thrown back, nails clawing at his shoulders as another climax builds too fast, too hard.

"Gonna come again, huh?" he taunts, pressing his thumb harder, and you can't even answer, just moan, loud and broken, as your hips buck wildly.

He leans in, teeth grazing your neck, then biting down, and that's it—you're shattering again, gushing over his thigh, a hot, wet rush that has him cursing under his breath.

"Fuck, that's it—drench me," he rasps, holding you tight as you shake apart, your slick dripping down his leg, pooling beneath him.

You're a panting, trembling wreck, but he's still hard beneath you, his dick straining against his shorts, and the glint in his eye says he's nowhere near finished.

"Catch your breath," he murmurs, lips brushing your ear, "'cause I'm fucking you next."

[myblogforeverandalways]

𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘎𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘵- 𝘒𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨

u guys making me feel special with all these likes gahhh. I'll edit this a little later, but I have a small one-shot for you lovely :)

Köing was not only nervous but also a caring man. At the start of your relationship, he only cared about you and what you craved and truly desired. This touched your heart, a giant prioritizing your wants and needs, even in the bedroom.

Köing never went too rough, constantly checking if you were okay as he kissed you softly, thrusting slowly into your glistening cunt, wetness dripping down your thighs mixed with his thick cum. Ready to be cleaned off by him later as he groaned your name in a mess of English and German, his voice lustful and loving. Your whimpers would echo in the bedroom; you had never adjusted to his size, not with a cock that big, stretching your gummy walls each time you fucked, only to feel like your first time all over again.

Köing was indeed everything you could ever want. His soft touch and alluring eyes, his tall, possessive figure that would make you wetter just looking at him as he held your hand in public, fingers intertwined—he was all yours.

Your sex drive was already at a painful high, and Köing adored it, never wasting a second as those eyes that would flutter every time he pushed into you harder with pure ease, legs over his shoulders, shaking while he eyed you in pure lust, panting like a worn dog, just in pure admiration for your body. Your tiny hands that dug into his biceps as he begged to go faster, a primal urge that tried to control him before he filled your swollen pussy up but;

"No, not just yet, my love. You get to cum when I want you to~." You smirked, hands caressing his hair back, fingers intertwining, knowing this got to him.

You liked to see him beg, to struggle to hold his leaking cum.

Sensitive, aren't you König?

Sensitive to your silky folds, the squelching, sloppy noises as his strength diminished under you.

And poor König, trying so hard to pull himself together as he grunted, kissing your neck in desperation, his stubble tickling against your tender skin, a yearning desire that he craved every night. Your legs wrapped around him instinctively as you mumbled sweet words into his ear because he deserved it. He deserved to feel special.

And as he couldn't hold it any longer, sinking into you, seed spilling into your pretty pussy, your greedy fingers circled your clit, begging for a release in return.

Edit: Thank you for the reblogs on my last 2 posts! I'm forever grateful to every one of you! I've reached, somehow, 50+ likes!? Insane work, thank you, luvs <3

[pedro-my-love]

here's a headcanon for ya,,,

Din loves holding your hand.

He prefers it with no gloves, often in private, that's what he does. He loves the feeling of skin on skin with you. And he can't really get it in any other way, so he loves holding your hand.

I'm talking fingers intertwined, firmly holding your hand. He just does it, passively, without thinking sometimes. And other times, he does it thoughtfully.

It's not only a walking thing, it's a "in the cockpit of the Crest" thing. It's short and sweet where he squeezes your hand once. (You kinda feel like if he didn't have his helmet on he'd give you a quick kiss somewhere instead.)

Before you were together, or maybe even in the earlier stages, he didn’t fully hold your hand.

But he still liked to touch you in some way.

When walking, he was always barely pressing a hand on the small of your back.

When in danger, he's got a strong grip on your arm. Firm and protective.

But one of the first times that need for just simple affection was there, you'd both been standing beside each other and he had simply extended a gloved pinky.

He didn’t intertwine them, just a touch, a simple touch. You weren't sure if it was him reassuring himself you were there, or maybe just some affection he couldn't act on, but it started there, in a simple graze of leather against skin.

After that, and you not flinching away from the touch, it was circling his hand around your wrist. He'd tap along your inner wrist, almost as if he was tracking your pulse. A reminder you were standing right beside him (when he had lost so much, he was so afraid of losing you).

And then, it was his hand intertwining with yours.

When the two of you were confessing your feelings (where are my slowburn girlies at?), he'd grabbed your hands in his, brushing his gloved fingers along your knuckles. Reverently. (And he would do the same thing when you recited the Mandalorian wedding vows, just a btw.)

Anyway...

[leighsartworks216]

You Hate Me

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Sooooo I wrote this one morning when even just laying down had my knees hurting and I was like,, well what if Tav had that too? Also inspired by the fact I get to campus an hour early and still try to rush to the (empty) classroom instead of, ya know, taking advantage of the huge time buffer I give myself

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of joint pain, insecurity, crying, possibly OOC, clown mention

Word Count: 1,545

Masterlist

AO3

Just a bit further. A little further and then you could rest. If you make it to that tree - make it to that tree and you can sit down. Just a bit left to go.

It started almost a week ago. Unable to cope with all the traveling, your right knee started bothering you. With every step you could feel your kneecap shifting back and forth with a dull click. Then, it started to hurt. Nothing serious. If you walked slow enough, you could avoid it. But now every step sent shocks of pain up your entire leg. Your left knee joined the party this morning, removing any sense of relief you had while walking. Even sitting down didn't remove the pain, but you couldn't afford a day off.

Your companions noticed the changes, despite your best effort not to show any outward discomfort. You moved slower, the occasional grimace slipped through, they weren't traveling quite as far. You consider asking Shadowheart for anything that could ease the pain, but you already knew there was little she could do to help. So you grit your teeth and kept going.

Your foot stepped on uneven ground and you nearly dropped from the agony that shot through your whole body. Karlach worried you might actually just collapse. But you kept going.

Astarion couldn't bear it. None of them could - they hated seeing their intrepid leader fight their own body just to go a few more feet - but your struggle settled like a boulder in his stomach. Every time your face scrunched up, every hiss of your sharp inhales, felt like someone had stabbed a knife in his chest and was twisting it ever deeper. He hated the feeling.

With only a few long strides, he slipped from the back of the group to the front, walking alongside you. He had to change his normal gait just so he didn't surpass you. "Darling," he hummed quietly, just loud enough to keep the conversation between you two, "you should rest."

You shook your head. You didn't even spare him a glance. Your eyes didn't shift from the tree. "We're almost there," you dismiss. It's slightly breathless. Despite needing to walk slow to avoid the pain, you were pushing to go faster.

He tsked. "And how far do we still have left to go?" He tilted his head as he looked at you, already knowing whatever distance you said would be too far.

You nodded to a tree dead ahead. "Once we reach that birch, we can rest."

"That birch?" He pointed. "The birch tree that's nearly half a mile away?"

He could feel you bristle with his incredulous tone, but you didn't say anything.

He scoffed. "My dear, I can be stubborn at the best of times, but this is ridiculous! You're barely staying upright as it is."

"I'm fine-"

"No, you're not," he sharply cuts you off. He grabs your arm and pulls you to a stop, holding you there with enough force that you wouldn't slip out and keep going. You refuse to look at him even now. "You're wincing, your hands have been clenched for the last mile, and you keep stumbling. The tree will still be there if you just sit down for a minute."

The rest of the party watches from a distance. Far enough away they can just make out what Astarion's saying, especially as his voice rises in pitch the more frustrated he gets.

Standing still hurts. It's hard to say if it hurts more or less than walking; it just hurts. Your face is pinched as sharp jolts run up through your joints, like someone is poking you with a sewing needle. Walking, you decide, must be better than this.

"It's not that far," you insist, voice low. "And when we get there, we can-"

"Gods above, you're impossible! Fine. Fine! You want to get to that tree, fine." He lets go of your arm.

Before you can even take a step, he's sweeping you into his arms, supporting you with one arm under your back and the other hooked under your knees. The pressure hurts for a moment, but it quickly fades away. The lingering aches are from pushing yourself too hard. He begins marching once more toward your end goal.

You want to shout, to demand he put you down. But when you look up at his face, his eyes are sharper than usual, lips pulled into a tight frown and crease forming between his eyebrows. He's angry.

He's angry with you.

The words die in your throat. You hate being so dependent. You were the leader - you needed to be strong and fearless and without weakness. To receive help feels like someone plunging their hand between your ribs and stealing away a chunk of your worth. But seeing Astarion upset, upset with you, that stings far worse.

You avoid looking over his shoulder. You could just imagine their faces. How Lae'zel would scowl at you for being weak. How Gale's face would turn somber when he realizes you're not as capable as he thought. You couldn't bear it. So you press your forehead to Astarion's neck and stare at your lap.

There's an unwelcome burn at the back of your eyes. Shame floods your chest and crawls up your throat until it chokes you. Water pools along your lower lids and blurs your vision. You can't walk and now you're going to cry. Just how fucking pathetic can you be?

Astarion's head shifts and you can tell he's trying to look down at you. He's trying to see your face. Because he can feel you shaking in his arms. He can hear your lungs quivering as your breaths become uneven and choppy. You press your closed eyes against his throat and he can feel the hot tears against his skin.

His frown softens, though you can't see it. He slows down to a stop and tells the others to go on ahead, to the birch tree just there, and start working on setting up camp, but all you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears. Their faces become fraught with worry; Karlach is the last to go. She still looks back once or twice. Astarion finds a suitable rock and he sits.

"Shh, sweet thing," he cooes, voice no louder than a whisper. His arm around your back pulls you into his shoulder, hand tangling in your hair as he cradles you. His other hand rubs soothing circles along your thigh. You gasp around a sob, body curling further into itself, into him, as you release your emotions. "It's alright."

You strangle out an apology. It's wet and croaky and painful.

"Whatever for?" he asks.

"You're mad at me," you whimper.

He huffs. The frustration from before rises in him again just thinking about it. "Yes, I am."

He feels your breath catch in your throat, and the heaving breath you take after. "You hate me."

Astarion laughs, short and sharp. "Why would I hate you, dear? Because you're too stubborn for your own good?" You don't have a response for him. He kisses your head, wherever he can reach. "I'm mad because you put yourself out trying to solve all of our issues, but the moment you have one of your own, you refuse any help. You're going to tear yourself apart."

He sighs and rests his cheek atop your head. His fingers rub the nape of your neck, gently tugging at the hair there. You carry so much tension, it's a wonder your muscles haven't locked up from the stress.

Time passes slowly in his arms. It seems to take forever before you start to calm down, and even longer before your eyes have dried. He does nothing to speed the process aside from gently hush you when you try to choke out apologies.

You sniffle quietly. Your eyes are raw, and you're all too aware of the stain of water you've left on the vampire's neck. When you speak, it's a painful creak in your vocal chords. "You don't hate me?"

He presses another kiss to your head. "No, love, I don't hate you. Not unless you've done something truly horrific, like invite a clown to show up at camp in the middle of the night." You chuckle weakly. It's such sweet music. "Gods forbid you start donating to charity." You laugh this time, and Astarion's chuckle vibrates against your ear.

His fingers detangle themselves from your hair with one last gentle tug, and his arm wraps around your back once more. As though you weigh no more than one of his pillows, he stands once more with you in his safe grasp, and begins heading for camp. He can see Karlach up ahead light up when she sees you're finally on your way.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I just feel so... useless, like this."

"Please, stop apologizing," he begs, dramatically. "Just say 'thank you' and we can move on."

You peel your face from his skin, dried tears sticking you together. You wince at how disgusting this must be for him. You lean up and kiss his cheek. He smiles at the affection. "Thank you."

Softer, he says, "Of course, my love."

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

Pfft!

That is just lovely. I needed a good laugh!

Also...Custodes Bros...

You know you can like....politely request a lap dance of your own right? They're not a limited resource.

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐐𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐈𝐈

"These are a bit fun to do. I'll probably organize them in their one little files once I get to it. Anyways, more of the forgotten characters!😭" - Ichor

TW // None?

|°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| {Pt.1} - {Pt.3}

~⚜️♞⚜️~ Watcher ~⚜️♞⚜️~

You: if I fall...

Sabinus: I'll be there to catch you.

Celsus, looks at Horos: What if I fall?

Horos: Then I'll fall with you, never leaving your side.

Atlas, watching the two interactions:

Atlas, to Pythios: And if I fall?

Pythios: I'll be the one who pushed you.

~⚜️♞⚜️~

Horos: How much you wanna bet Celsus got a Lap Dance from our little one?

Sabinus: If that happened, Pythios can drink free tonight.

Pythios: As much as I love the thought of having free drinks. I don't like the idea of our little one reviving a Lap dance from someone other than me.

Horos: Hey little one, did you give Celsus a Lap dance?

You: So what if I did?

Horos, to Sabinus: I guess Pythios is drinking free tonight.

Pythios: Be right back, i'm gonna go cry-

Atlas, entering the room: By the throne???

~⚜️♞⚜️~

Horos: I put the pun in punishment.

Atlas: I put the top in unstoppable.

Celsus: I put the cute in execute.

Sabinus: I put sexy in dyslexia.

You: I put the ass in class.

Pythios: I put the D in little one.

~⚜️♞⚜️~ Kleiner Paladin ~⚜️♞⚜️~

Soren: Little paladin, I...

Soren: I love you!

You: Not my problem.

~⚜️♞⚜️~ Eminence ~⚜️♞⚜️~

Solor: Well, little maiden and I finally did it!

The Alpha Legionnaires, jealous & glaring:

Solor: Thats right... We kissed!

~⚜️♞⚜️~

Leviathan: Hey, what have you two been up to?

Ascelepius: We were helping Solor write their vows, but they kicked us out because Hydra was making inappropriate suggestions.

Hydra: How is “You, I love your sweet ass” inappropriate?

~⚜️♞⚜️~

Leviathan: Ah, yes. Here we have a beautiful couple...

Ascelepius: I really care about your feelings!

You: I really care about YOUR feelings!

Leviathan, turning their head: ...and then there's the disaster couple...

Solor: YOU NEED TO PAY MORE ATTENTION TO ME INSTEAD OF BEING AT THE HOSPITAL!

Hydra: I WOULDN'T HAVE TO SPEND SO MUCH TIME AT THE HOSPITAL IF YOU STOPPED INSISTING ON FIGHTING EVERYONE WHO COMES WITHIN A FIVE FOOT RADIUS OF YOU!

~⚜️♞⚜️~

Ascelepius: So anyways have y'all seen Hydra?

You: I think they went in my bedroom 'studying'.

Leviathan: Doubt that. I heard groans there.

*Meanwhile in Marine 4's room*

Hydra & Solor, fighting:

~⚜️♞⚜️~

Hydra: sapnu puaS.

Ascelepius: What??

You: What language is that.

Hydra: Turn your phone 180 degrees.

*Hydra was removed from the groupchat.*

~⚜️♞⚜️~ Flourish Ambition ~⚜️♞⚜️~

Ambrosio, throwing their head into your lap: Tell me I'm pretty!

You, lovingly stoking his hair: You're pretty fucking annoying, that's what you are.

~⚜️♞⚜️~

You: Ugh, crushes are so dumb.

Ambrosio: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid.

You: But you’re always acting stupid?

Ambrosio: ...

Ambrosio: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

~⚜️♞⚜️~ Space Shark ~⚜️♞⚜️~

Screeko: Let's watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

You: Okay.

Screeko: And make out during the scary parts.

You: Th-

You: The scary parts.

You: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

~⚜️♞⚜️~ Long Lost ~⚜️♞⚜️~

Ruslan: I am so cool. I am an absolute Marine. I am the epitome of faith and loyalty—

You: Hello.

Ruslan: *Melts down in a flustered heap of softness in his armor.*

~⚜️♞⚜️~

You: As top in this relationship, I think we should-

Ruslan: I can't believe you're pulling rank on me.

~⚜️♞⚜️~

You: Crushes are the worst. Whenever I’m near mine, I start acting stupid.

Ruslan: You always act stupid.

Ruslan:

Ruslan: Wait...

~⚜️♞⚜️~ Set Validity ~⚜️♞⚜️~

You: I feel like doing something stupid.

Blasius: I’m stupid, do me.

~⚜️♞⚜️~

Blasius, to You: We had a date!

Blasius: *Aggressively points to Hello Kitty Coloring Book.*

~⚜️♞⚜️~

Blasius: I truly go into housewife mode when I'm someone's soulmate- like, I'll make you pancakes and bacon every morning.

You: This is a lie.

You: I'm literally dating them. This is a lie.

You: THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO COOK A PANCAKE, WHAT IS THIS.

~⚜️♞⚜️~ Blue & Red ~⚜️♞⚜️~

Xerxes: We should be partners.

You: You mean like, partners in crime?

Xerxes: Yeah... that’s precisely what I meant.

~⚜️♞⚜️~ Dual Appeal ~⚜️♞⚜️~

You, bursting into the room: You two are having sex!

Zazir, not looking up from their book: Really? Rasul, why didn’t you tell me? I would have put my book down.

~⚜️♞⚜️~

You: Hi, sorry I’m late. I was doing a couple of things and got distracted.

Rasul: I’m “a couple of things.”

Zazir: I’m “got distracted.”

~⚜️♞⚜️~

Rasul: I’ve never asked someone out. How do you even do it?

Zazir: Oh, what I do is, I look them up and down and I say: “Hey… how you doin’?”

You, scoffing: Oh, please.

Zazir, to You: Hey, how you doin’?

You:

You: *Giggles and blushes.*

~⚜️♞⚜️~

Zazir: Due to personal reasons, I will be fucking sinking to the bottom of the ocean in a large metal box.

Rasul: Did our habibti say, "I love you" and you said "Thanks?"

Zazir: THE REASONS ARE PERSONAL–

~⚜️♞⚜️~

Zazir: You need a hobby.

Rasul: I have a hobby!

Zazir: Fawning over our habibti isn’t a hobby.

~⚜️♞⚜️~

You: ....Thou shalt not marry each me, for thy art both sinful...

Rasul & Zazir: We just wanna fucking marry you!

“@kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.”

“+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @marcela2000, @passionofthesith, @insanity6666.” - Tagged

[ladyymiisa]

RISE AND SHINE!

summary: mornings with shouta might be a challenge, but you still love him unconditionally, even when he's being a total pain.

tags: aizawa shouta x fem!reader, fluff, shouta is an insufferable little shit in this so i’m sorry if it seems a bit ooc

author’s note: misa writing about someone who’s not hawks? absolutely crazy. anyway, eat up my children!! (i wish he would eat me instead)

mornings with shouta can go one of two ways:

1. you wake up first, only to be sweetly persuaded into remaining in bed with him for another hour or so. this usually happens on the weekends.

2. you wake up first and are confronted with the formidable task of ensuring that your boyfriend gets out of bed on time to attend to his responsibilities as both a pro hero and a teacher.

today happens to be the second scenario.

“come on, shouta,” you urge, attempting to pull the blanket from his body, only to succeed in moving it a mere millimeter from his grasp. even freshly awake, his grip remains unyielding—a trait whose logic you’ll never quite comprehend.

with a sigh of frustration, you give the blanket another tug, this time applying more force. “your alarm has rung three times already. how much longer do you intend to lounge around?” you ask, your annoyance evident.

shouta remains silent and you find yourself sighing once again.

this won’t do. he should have been out the door by now, and you’re pretty sure nezu will give him another reprimand for being late once again. there’s only so much he’ll let slide.

with your lips pressed together, you silently watch shouta. you observe the steady rise and fall of his chest as he dozes off peacefully, without a care in the world. a few unruly strands of hair have fallen across his eyes, partially obscuring his face from view. perfect.

it's time to resort to plan b.

with your plan set in motion, you roll your shoulders, savoring the satisfying pops of your joints, then position yourself, ready for action. without an ounce of hesitation, you allow your body to collapse onto his like a ragdoll, face landing straight against his bare chest. this action finally elicits a response from shouta.

he grunts in disapproval, partly due to the unexpected impact of your body landing atop his own without warning, but makes no effort to push you away. instead, he remains there, defeated and motionless.

"get off." he grumbles, voice thick with sleep.

"only if you get up." you retort.

you feel the low rumble in his chest as he grumbles once more. a few seconds of silence pass, and just as you begin to think you might have won, his arms unexpectedly wrap around you, securing you in place.

this prompts you to gasp in offence and struggle against his grip, but your efforts are in vain. shouta has no intention of letting you go so easily, not when the warmth of your body nearly lulls him back into slumber. you let out a whine, lifting your head slightly to look at him.

the fucking bastard is smirking triumphantly.

with a resigned sigh, you allow your head to fall against his chest once more. something tells you that shouta won’t be the only one getting an earful from nezu today.

[kabr0ztrousers]

hey could you write about a pussy portal? with whatever monster you feel like! also could it be semi-public (public but hidden)? also knotting is appreciated!

Kabr0z Writes episode 53: Hornyposting

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: portal sex; knotting; public sex; cum in vagina; unknown male; freeuse; recieving cunnilingus; age gap; implied impregnation; interspecies; portal fucking

A/N: I do love writing portal fucking, though I'm not sure I understood the prompt properly on this one, so enjoy reading about fem!reader being fucked by a knotted cock while falling to avoid notice

Also, any requests etc, please drop an ask!

#######################################

When you bought something called a "telepresence glory hole" you weren't honestly expecting what you got. It arrived OK, and came with a phonebook of a disclaimer which you didn't bother reading. What was really interesting was, it actually seemed legit. In the box you got a pair of panties, and a handheld device that looked kinda like a fleshlight. Both had strange disks integrated to them made of some kind of metal. You spent the next hour going through the manual, registering them to a phone app and generating a friend code.

Testing went without a hitch, you plugged the friend code into the app, and the link established with a faint buzz. Next came the fun part. You broke the link, before taking to the internet. Would you believe there's a whole community centred around these things?

You got changed, a nice sundress to go out in, those panties underneath. A quick picture later and you posted your selfie and your code, out in the aether. You set off, walking to the cafe, locking the app as you left. For the next 4 hours, you're open for business.

The bell on the café door jingled as it opened. The local corporate chain, you weren't going to risk getting chucked out of a café you actually liked, but even if the coffee sucked here the wifi's free and there's plenty of people around. You joined the back of the line and inched towards the counter.

You felt a draft down below. A breath across your cunt. There were still a few people ahead of you. A shiver ran up your spine, it's starting already.

A wide tongue grazed your outer lips, starting slowly. You tensed your cunt a little to egg whoever this was on. You'd said in your post that you were up for any guy to give you a fuck, though maybe you hadn't mentioned what you'd be up to in the meantime... But that's very much what things like this were designed for, nobody's wearing these for a quiet night in.

The tongue came again, holding back a little less this time, coating the outside of your pussy in drool as it licked up and down your-

"Hi! What can I get for you?" The rictus grin of the cashier snapped you out of your thoughts

"C-cappuchino please. Large" you stammered out, speaking fast to try and avoid your voice giving you away.

You paid noiselessly, tapping your card on the machine which beeped compliantly before stepping over to the other counter with your receipt and the order number printed on it.

The tongue got more aggressive. Your knee buckled as it circled your clit. You squeezed your eyes shut a moment as it threatened to slip into your eager hole. You leaned on a low wall behind you, trying to look nonchalant as you checked your forum post.

WolfDaddy1969 had replied to you "Don't need to tell me twice" was this the person so diligently licking you out? He didn't have a profile picture. God, but whoever this was, they're good with their tongue. You rolled your head backwards in ecstasy, trying to disguise it by rubbing the back of your neck, but the quiet whimper you gave drew the eye of the suited woman beside you as she stepped forward to grab a tray of paper cups.

"Order 42, large cappuccino, regular milk"

Your legs threatened to betray you as you as you stepped up and took the almost litre cup of coffee with your order number stuck to it. You turned to try and find a table, almost stumbling as you did. The movement was shifting your pussy lips, moving them subtly against one another as the tongue pushed between them. You fell into a seat, legs spread. You could feel moisture leaking around the edges of the portal, the combination of drool and your pussy juice starting to slick your crotch.

The tongue had barely let up before you felt something else pressing against you. Hard and drooling, there was no mistaking it. You'd been with a lupine before, you knew how they start squirting precum almost as soon as you get them hard. You imagined it, if this wolf really was born in the late 60's then he'd have been in his thirties before you were even conceived... It turned you on knowing this cock was old enough to be your father.

He pushed in, or maybe down? Your pussy making up the business end of the toy he was fucking himself with. He slid in easily. Your toes curled in your shoes as you gripped the table in front of you, clenching your teeth as he started fucking you properly. He angled his toy, only slightly but enough that you could feel him thrust up into your g-spot before continuing into you. Despite your efforts, you could feel yourself making small, choked sounds with every thrust. His thumb hit your clit. You groaned as your legs started to shake, failing to hide your release as people started to take notice. A mix of worried and disgusted looks fixed upon you, some people clearly having an idea of what was happening.

The cock filled you up. The clenching of your aching cunt getting to the cock inside you. You felt the knit start to inflate. It was pulsing so deliciously, your mouth sagged open in a silent wail of delight and release.

The cashier from before was next to you "I think you should leave" his smile was gone, he just looked tired.

You nodded and got up, The movement of your legs rolling the swollen knot inside you, forcing you to walle away, your drink forgotten as you tried to ignore the mix of arousal and cum dripping down your legs.

The outside air was cold on your skin, the wetness covering your thighs stinging as it cooled in the brisk February air. At least you're within walking distance of home, though it's anyone's guess if you'd get back before the wolf was done with you.

He was still using you to jerk off, the knot thrusting up and down as you tried to walk, dictating the rhythm of your steps. You weren't hiding your noises any more either, there were fewer people on the suburban streets, but every one of them knew you had something going on down there. Some hurried on, some threw dirty looks, one or two gave wolf whistles and catcalls, only making you wetter.

You were halfway home when the knot started twisting in you, this way and that. You grabbed a lamppost as you moaned out, trying desperately to keep from falling as your knees gave way and your cunt gave another squirt of girlcum. He turned his cock again and again, feeling how you clenched and milked his knot, wringing every morsel of cum from him, before withdrawing with a pop.

That tongue came back. You slid down the pole, landing on your knees as the wolf licked deep inside you, tasting his cum as it mixed with your essence. You could swear it hit your cervix as you groaned and whined for all to see.

The tongue withdrew. The portal shut off and you were alone again, leaking onto the floor underneath you. You staggered to your feet, still clinging to the street furniture as you got your breath back. Legs still shaking, pussy still twitching, you got home.

The portal buzzed to life again. You checked your post. You'd been pinned to the front page, it looks like WolfDaddy left you a glowing review "10/10, tight pussy, would impregnate again"

You were going to have a lot of fun with this

#################################

There's a little narrative dissonance between where it started and where it went here, but I thought it shook out pretty well, and you're not here for tight editing.

As always, any requests, ideas, thoughts, questions or fanmail is appreciated! My DMs and asks remain open for use!

Also, see below for a surprise poll!