#and i've been depressed as fuck for quite a while now

[iz-star]

About Zayne's nightmares...

The most unrealistic thing about Zayne is that he's a functional working adult that seemingly has put his life together at 27 not because he's young or a prodigy but because he's said to have nightmares since he was 12?? Like... I feel like this theme might be a bit overlooked but just think about it deeply, having constant nightmares fucks your mind like really REALLY bad, I can genuinely say this by experience and also as someone who has had trouble to have a healthy sleeping schedule since I was at highschool (like, for example, right now, I should be sleeping instead of writing this...).

There was a time I would have nightmares almost everytime I went to sleep during a really hard time in my life. Of course, the topic about those nightmares was almost always the same, not like the nightmares repeated themselves but they always revolved about the same things that I was actually working in therapy at the moment. Back then I was jobless and medicated most part of the time, I was pretty dysfunctional.

I suppose that's why when I listened to "Fragmented Dreams" for the first time it was the time I said "Yeah, this is my man". I love how he's always nagging MC about sleeping early because I know by experience that not sleeping properly can mess up with your mind pretty bad, and probably he knows it too. It truly is a showcase of love how he worries about her sleep like that and it also showcases how strong minded he is for enduring too much stress and remind kind constantly.

I love how healthy he is. I like to think that he's overcome all the stressful stuff he's gone thru bc of his discipline and healthy life style, but realistically it would take him some more to deal with all of that.

Yes, all of the guys have been through some very rough stuff and they all need therapy, but my point with Zayne comes with the fact that not having a good sleeping schedule and on top of that having constant nightmares can mess up with your perception of reality and induce you a bad depression or other mental health issues. Everytime I remember Zayne's main story branch when they're trapped in Zayne's dream and MC leaves him alone and he starts listening to Willian, Georgie and his Mom so he has to remind himself "It's not real, it's not real" I deeply feel that and I just want to hug him so bad :(

I think I'd like to see a card where they explore the consecuences of their past in their psyche more deeply. I can't help remembering this post which was one of the first posts you unlock with Zayne:

It was there when I just knew that even if he looked quiet, he had a lot to say but didn't know how to express.

Another thing I'd like to highlight about this is that actually I love the emotional maturity that Zayne displays about dealing with such issues like nightmares, traumatic experiences and literally being exposed to see people dying 24/7 while being someone that feels a lot yet says little. He's dealt with this the best way he can, no wonder why he came to be quite serious and inexpressive or sarcastic. Not allowing himself to express other emotions than seriousness or sarcasm was like keeping himself in check so he wouldn't spill everything he feels and considering how stressing is his job already, it just makes sense, but that didn't mean Zayne didn't feel because he feels too much and too deeply and worries sick about ppl and especially about MC.

Of course, bottling up his emotions wasn't the best way to deal with them but he never used any unhealthy coping mechanism neither, like alcohol, for example (My teetotaler King ❤️) etc. Yeah, his workaholism isn't exactly healthy but not something toxic to his mind and relationships, and I've always had a feeling that he's a big foodie and addicted to sweets to give himself that boost of serotonine he needs so bad.

That's why he compares MC with sweets, being her his favorite dessert, bc she's brought all that serotonine to his life naturally and has helped him let go little by little. When he opened to her about losing Dulcie, I had a feeling that Zayne always wanted someone to listen to him but he didn't know how to ask for it and ppl around him was too afraid to even dare to suggest it. I think even in one of his anecdotes, it is said that sometimes Dr Noah wanted to tell him something but at the end ended up saying nothing.

The fact that Zayne bottled up his emotions didn't mean that he wouldn't willingly share them, he wanted to but wasn't used to it. With MC, he's slowy started to let it go and enjoy life more, allowing himself to be sad in front of her, to express his fears (about losing her) or to express his childish tantrums and indulge in his softest side. That's why also she's not only his favorite dessert but also his best painkiller ❤️

And just to finish, I've always thought this quote by Kafka fits him so well:

"Remember, you should sleep more than other people, for I sleep less than most. And I can’t think of a better place to store my unused share of universal sleep than in your beloved eyes."

[tardis--dreams]

I wish i could get buproprion without a prescription this shit is way too good to give up ㅠㅠ

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not having time to read my mutual's writing?

Met a mutual on here, bonded through fanfic, have been tight with them for a few years with pretty much no bumps in the relationship, just overall had a really good time hanging around them when I could. We both write a lot and share our writing, and occasionally we talk about that writing/workshop it in passing.

In the past few years I've gone through a ton of life changes. Most notably I went from a multi-person household to a single-person one, and I've been living alone in a prohibitively costly city for a while now working 40 hour weeks and barely scraping by. As soon as the transition started I spent the last of my free income on a shitty little laptop so I could still write, putting down words on my bus/train commutes in the morning and quite literally writing on my breaks at work because I feel insane when I can't create. I bring this up to really stress that I don't have the time for the hobby, I force myself to make the time and even then it never feels like enough.

The only thing I can really stand to do with my 3 hours of free time at night is hang out with my moots online. I'm an extrovert so being around people recharges me. If I don't have designated social time I get super depressed and can pretty much feel my soul withering away. I also feel like I should probably mention that I kinda have a slew of mental issues, personality disorders and PTSD and AuDHD and the works. Point being, shit is rough my dude, but I am a person who likes to work hard and face challenges head on and even though we strugglin, we doing it with a positive outlook.

But! I am an incredibly solution-oriented person and I have found what I personally believe to be a good balance. No one should have to live like this, but I do, and I have found a way to be happy. My writing and my social time is all load-bearing. It is not something I just choose to do on a whim, it's all planned and scheduled and I adhere to those routines very strictly because, I cannot stress this enough, I will go fucking bonkers if I don't.

I'm mutuals with a lot of writers obv, and I sadly don't have time to read their work anymore, unless I get some extra time on my days off or something gets cancelled or like, I end up taking a vacation. I carry a great amount of guilt for this, though, even though I logically know it's reasonable. I try to support them where I can, cheer them on when I see them writing and tell them how cool their ideas sound, hype them up even when I can't actually read & review.

One of the things I do is sometimes I leave a kudos on fic I haven't read. I'm not trying to be ingenuine, and if they asked me I'd tell them like 'Oh I didn't read it yet, just wanted to show support!' but to me it's kinda like ripping a paper tab off a poster so that other's feel inclined to do the same. Plus my pals get a little email and a hit of serotonin.

Except one of my acquaintances, the one I mentioned at the start here, saw that I left kudos on a couple pieces another mutual of mine wrote this year. They more or less blew up my DMs with a ton of accusatory (like, literally presented like a 'GOTCHA!') stuff about how I was selective in who's fic I read, more or less implying that I secretly held some sort of grudge or negative feeling toward them and was making the conscious decision not to read or interact with their writing because of. Something, I don't actually know what they were trying to say. They also told me they vented to their friends about this MULTIPLE times, but they never once approached me to let me know they were feeling paranoid or neglected, they literally just took the most bad faith reading of it possible and then presented that to me like it was something I intentionally did, while the whole time I was unaware.

I tried to explain to them the kudos thing, that I didn't do it to every story, just ones I caught/noticed in my busy schedule. And I laid all this out and asked, multiple times, what free time am I supposed to read with? They didn't answer, and doubled down, kept trying to show me 'proof' that I was shorting them and no one else. Once they started to realize how wrong they were they backed down, but they didn't really apologize, or admit they were wrong, and they tried to end our relationship and left every single server we were in together. Because of some other unrelated stuff going on in my life, I didn't really consider them to be a close friend, but they were someone I really held dear and would've walked through hell for if they'd asked.

I still feel like there is something I'm missing here, and that's why I wanted to ask if I'm TA. I'm a pretty good communicator but one of the things I told myself when talking down my disordered thoughts (guilt about this prior) was "no one in their right mind would use reading fanfic as a metric for friendship." Now that I've had that exact thing happen, I'm starting to think maybe those thoughts weren't so disordered. Maybe this IS a big deal, and I should think about it more, but I don't even know what the solution to that would be. I just. Don't have time to read something lovingly crafted and appreciate it for what it is. All the hours in my week are used up, I'd have to lose sleep for this and with my mental health the way it is that is not an option.

Feel free to be a brutal, my skin is thick. Thanks!

What are these acronyms?

[bbydoll18xx]

I'll Be Your Temporary Fix (Pt 4)

Paige Bueckers x reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Part 4 based on this request:

Could you do a Paige x media team reader. Where Paige and reader are fake dating because Azzi is uncomfortable with the fans shipping her and Paige. Reader does it cus she owes Paige a favor (you can make something up).

Heyyy y'all I've lowkey been MIA (ya girl has been depressed lol) but here is part 4

Also Paige is so hot i wanna light myself on fire

Word Count: 1.8k

Themes: hella fluff

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

You had held up your end of the bargain, quite swimmingly. Paige had effectively turned you into a simpering fool, and she loved it. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t. 

Long gone were the days of running from your feelings. Paige had you tumbling head over heels, and you wanted to confess to the whole world. It was as if she had tattooed her name on your heart. 

With fake dating being no more, there was still an air of hesitation around what the two of you actually were. You were trying to avoid obsessing over the label, but it ate at you. There were so many unknowns, and you were never one to just come out with what you were actually feeling. 

Since becoming Paige’s friend, you had always relied on her to take the reigns, while you took an emotional backseat. It was just the way the dynamic was between you two.

But now Paige had been scarily quiet on what she wanted from you. 

The two of you had spent an absurd amount of time kissing since you had run back into her arms with ample apologies. Soft kisses in the morning, bathing in the glow of the sunshine of a new day. Rushed kisses in between classes in passings. Passionate, bruising kisses in the heat of the moment after Paige basks in the glory of winning yet another game. 

You were drunk on Paige’s mouth, but the inebriation was not enough to distract from the incessant questions your mind whispered at each waking moment.

So before your anxieties could overtake you once more, you had decided that you would ask Paige out on a proper date.

And so you did.

Taking a deep breath, you walk inside Paige’s apartment. It was now a familiar environment, and the homey atmosphere calms your beating heart. ‘It’s just Paige,’ your brain soothes your sympathetic nervous system, as it tries to go into overdrive. Fighting against your instincts to flee, you stroll into Paige’s bedroom with a soft smile on your face.

The tall girl had fallen asleep, and she was curled up in purple bed sheets looking as angelic as ever. Her blonde hair fanned across the pillows, and her plush bottom lip was jutting out in a precious pout that reminded you of a childs. You wanted to remember this forever. 

You tentatively sit on the edge of the bed, placing a small hand on Paige’s cheek, feeling the warm, soft skin. Your touch rouses her from her slumbers, and Paige gives you a sleepy grin as she realizes it’s you.

“Hi, baby,” she mumbles, voice husky with sleep. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you tease softly. “Did ya get bored waiting for me?”

Paige just chuckles, and your belly flips at the familiar sound.

“Doyoumaybewannagoonadatewithme…? you spill out, practically babbling in a desperate effort to just get it all out before you lose your courage.  

Your rapid wording flies over Paige’s still drowsy head, and she responds with a bewildered, “Huh?”

You swallow your pride once more, and with a deep breath you repeat yourself, much slower this time. “Do you want to go on a date? With me?”

Paige’s blue eyes widen, and her tongue darts out of her mouth to run across that fucking bottom lip again, and she nods. A grin is spreading across her face, and the swarm of butterflies that were assaulting your stomach a few seconds ago have flown away, leaving a wave of calm to wash over you. 

Trying to figure out where to take Paige was a whole other issue that had crept up on you. You were not used to having much control when it came to planning dates, and it had to be fucking perfect. You wanted to avoid the typical dinner and a movie routine; that was boring. Other activities would be difficult with Paige’s popularity, and you needed to evade the hoards of her adoring fans. 

You finally decide to take her go-karting. It was perfect. It appealed to her competitive edge, and it was super fun. You packed a bunch of her favorite snacks, and you were all set. 

Wiping your sweaty palms on your pants, you knock on Paige’s door to pick her up. The nerves threaten to make you turn on your heels and flee once more, but you resist. Paige opens the door with a cheesy smile that causes a visceral reaction from you. She would never not make you feel a million things all at once. She looked you up and down, a flirty expression on that beautiful fucking face of hers. 

“Lookin’ good, babe,” she murmurs, and your face heats up at the compliment. 

“You look gorgeous, P,” you declare in response, thus eliciting a similar flush that has you smirking in pride. Pulling a blush out of Paige Bueckers was always an accomplishment. 

You take her hand in yours and lead her to your car, and you allow her to connect to the aux. She looks at you in surprise. “You never let me listen to my music in your car.” 

“It’s your lucky day,” you tease with a small laugh. “I can go without Taylor Swift for a bit; this day is about you.” Paige beams, and your decision makes it all worth it.

You would kill someone just to keep that pretty smile on her face. 

You drive to the go-kart track with your right hand intertwined with Paige’s, and it was your turn to rub small circles on the back of hers. The domesticity of everything was bringing you much hope that this would all turn into more. Now that you had a taste of what it was like to belong to Paige, you knew it would be nearly impossible to give it up without a brutal fight. 

As you arrive, you’re pulled out of your thoughts by Paige’s loud gasp as she realizes what the two of you would be doing this afternoon. 

“Go-karting? Babe. I’m gonna kick your ass!” 

Her taunting just makes you laugh, and you shake your head fondly as she gets out of the car and bounds toward the door, dragging you along in faux impatience. 

The building is void of the usual busy crowd, and Paige notices the lack of people quickly. Seeing the confusion wash over her face, you explain that you pulled a few strings using your media manager status in order to have a little privacy. Paige says nothing. Instead, she pulls you in by the waist to press her lips against yours in an appreciative kiss, and you know this was the right call. You chase her lips and subconsciously go up on your tiptoes in an effort to get even closer.

The moment is interrupted as the manager of the facility walks over to where the two of you were standing, and introduces herself. She explains that you would have the place to yourselves for the next four hours, and she goes over how to work the go-karts. 

By the time the manager leaves, giving you and Paige the privacy you had wanted since arriving, Paige is bouncing on her heels in pure, child-like excitement that makes you equally as giddy. 

She bounds over to a brightly-colored purple go-kart, claiming loudly that it belonged to her, as you seat yourself in a green one. You watch her as she pulls the harness across her chest and tightens it, her tongue peeking out once more in concentration.

She was so endearing, and the feelings you were having had grown tenfold since she had originally asked you to pretend to date her just a few weeks prior. You weren’t sure if you would survive actually dating her. Just the thought made your heart feel as if it could explode at any moment. 

Your daydream is cut short by Paige who is now attempting to trash-talk you. However, her insults were hardly so, as she was having a similar issue with handling her affections for you, as well. 

“Mkay, I’ll believe it when I see it,” is all you get out before Paige is speeding away with a loud squeal and a cloud of gasoline. You barely mutter out a “fuck” before slamming your foot on the gas in a feeble attempt to catch up.

No such luck. 

Paige actually was incredible at go-karting, and her smugness had no limit. 

She walked out several hours later, one hand around yours once more and the other raised in the air, pumping her fist victoriously for the millionth time.

If it was literally anyone else, you would have felt mildly annoyed at her antics, but your fondness overtook any other possible emotions in your little love-drunk brain. 

As you climb back inside your car to head back to Paige’s, you allow yourself to study the features of the blonde, and you’re ecstatic to see the similar looks of happiness on her face. You had been counting on this day being a success. 

“I had a really fun time today. Thank you for doin’ all this for me,” Paige whispers sincerely with a flush of pink overtaking her pale skin. 

“I’d do anything for you, P,” you respond, struggling to maintain eye contact with your sudden candor. “I just don’t know where your head has been, but I’d like to be more than friends. And more than just friends who pretend to date to help their other friend,” you add with a quiet laugh.

The sheer absurdity of the situation was finally settling in. And you were hoping to be able to reap some long-term benefits of having to pretend to date Paige.

Paige places a hand on your face, cupping your cheek delicately and forcing you to gaze deep into those blue eyes. “Course I wanna be more,” she murmurs, her voice raspy from the combination of the emotions and the amount of yelling she had done earlier. “You’ve been my girl since that day in the gym when you agreed to fake date me. Now it’s just official.”

“Good,” you reply, a smug smirk engulfing your expression, and before you can say anything else, Paige is pulling you into another searing kiss.

“What are we gonna tell the team?” you ask between kisses, puffs of air leaving your swollen mouth every few seconds.

Paige shrugs. “They’ve been wanting me to try and get together with you for years. Now that I’m thinkin’ ‘bout it, I feel like Azzi made up the whole thing just so I would kiss you…” she trails off, a look of realization flitting across her face. 

A giggle escapes from your throat at the determination of Azzi Fudd to get the two of you together. And boy, were you grateful for the little scheme.

thanks so much for reading. i love you all :)

[oc-cinematic-universe]

YEAH THEY DO i'm so fucked up about them. they hate each other so much because both of them are fucking pissed that the other has what they want, and they're also really fucking mad at themselves for wanting it. both of them believe the other to be freer than themself and it shakes up both of them real bad.

joe sees this shitty ass evil au kind of guy and thinks "what the fuck. he's found an identity (or lack of identity) he's comfortable with? he doesn't have problems being rude to people if he wants? he doesn't give a shit about what people think of him anymore???? how and why did he do that. why the fuck can't i do that. ....why do i want to be like him oh shit" because all he can see is a version of himself that's confident and having fun and he doesn't understand Why

joe 2 sees this other version of him and goes "what the fuck. why is he so pathetic. why doesn't he understand this was the best option for us. i know him better than anyone, he'll appreciate my help i'll get him to kill somebody and then he'll feel better because i know i did everything we were supposed to so if he does it too he'll be perfect. ...what the fuck do you mean he doesn't want to. what the fuck do you mean he wants to get back home to his loved ones. he has loved ones??? he has a solid enough sense of identity to have morals?? .........why the fuck does that piss me off" because all he can see is joe's anger and stubbornness and spite and assumes that to be enough to make more of a person than he himself is

they hate each other So Much but while joe just wants to get away so he can stop looking at an objectively worse version of himself and feeling jealous, joe 2 can't stop fuckin with him trying to prompt him into becoming what he thinks the "correct" version of the both of them is, because he cannot bare to have been wrong. he can't stand the idea that somewhere out there is a joe that's "better" than him when he was so fully convinced that becoming nothing and putting on an ever shifting act was the right choice for his self satisfaction. so if he can get this other him to become the same and it makes things better for him, then it's fine. he was right all along.

hey willow do YOU have 2 joes? cause of that poll on your main blog?

hey thanks for the question me! yeah there's 2 of him running around in canon

[the-queen-of-hell-666]

Getting Him Back

Pairing: Daryl Dixon (Alexandria, Pre-Saviors War) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: You finally get Daryl back after he escapes from Negan.

Warnings: explicit language, established relationship, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal sex, creampie, outdoor sex, semi-public sex, sweet sex, soft sex), quite of bit of angst, mentions of murder, mentions of blood and gore, depression, Negan being an asshole

a/n: I've had this idea for a while and wanted to see if I could write it as well as I thought of it. I hope I did good! Let me know if you want a part two where Negan intergates the reader?

Banners by @vase-of-lilies

It had been one week, two days, and five hours since Negan had taken your husband. You remembered the broken look in his blue eyes as the saviors tossed him into then back of the truck, more tears falling down your cheeks as you made eye contact with Daryl. You felt rooted in your spot on the hard ground, the strong smell of blood and bile stinging your nose. You couldn’t look around you, you couldn’t see your dead friends, or the broken faces of your friends. You felt like in the process of taking Daryl, Negan might as well have rammed Lucille through your chest. 

Michonne helped you back to Alexandria, up to her guest room, helping you wash up. You felt empty, your body felt numb, you couldn’t talk, you wanted it to be a horrible nightmare, that you would wake up and Daryl would be wrapped around you. His strong arms keeping you against his chest, making you feel safe like nothing could ever hurt you. You stayed in bed for days till the Saviors arrived at the gate wanting to see what they could take. You were startled when Negan came bursting through the door to your temporary room. You immediately stood up grabbing your knife from its place on the nightstand. 

Your tired eyes met Negan’s hazel ones as amusement filled his face, “Well, if it isn’t Mrs. Dixon. You look like horse shit.” He chuckled as he placed his hands on his hips. 

You avoided his gaze and sat down on the bed, letting your shoulders curl in on you, “Take whatever you want, I don’t care.” You mumbled feeling utterly defeated as you pulled your legs up to your chest. 

He rolled his eyes, “Oh, c’mon. Where’s that little spitfire that almost yanked Fat Joey’s jewels off?” He chuckled and sat next to you, making you flinch. 

“You took my husband. I won’t do anything to harm him.” You said as you flipped your knife in your hand. “I just want him back.” You mumbled as you looked away from Negan. 

He let out a sigh, “Sorry, sweet cheeks. Your boy messed up, he’s mine now, but I’ll tell you what I told him.” He said and you turned to look at him, “As long as he does what I say, no harm will come to you. I won’t fuck up your little home. You’ll be safe.” He said in a serious tone and small tears welled in your eyes and you looked away from him. 

You sniffled softly and wiped your tears away, “T-thanks.” You said in a low and shaky voice. He smirked and patted your shoulder before leaving. As much as you wanted to kill Negan, but as long as he had Daryl, you wouldn’t. You’d just sit quietly hoping that one day, Daryl will come home.

The day Rick decided to fight the saviors and a group of you all made your way to the Hilltop, your hopes were answered. The gate opened to the Hilltop and you all walked in and from behind the door was Daryl. He looked exhausted, skinny, but alive. Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes locked with his, your feet moving of their own accord as you ran over to him. He met you in the middle, scooping you up in his arms, your lips meeting his in a passionate and loving kiss. His hands pressed against your back as your thighs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck. 

Later that night, you and Daryl sat around a secluded fire near the back wall of Hilltop. You were planted in Daryl’s lap, his strong arms wrapped around your waist. Your fingers intertwined with his, as you laid against his chest, his nose nuzzled in your hair. 

“I missed you.” You whispered into the air as you watched the flames dance. 

He let out a soft sigh and kissed your temple, “Everyday in that damn cell, I dreamed about gettin’ home to ya.” He mumbled against your hair, squeezing your hands in his, like he used to do on runs when you two would split up. 

You turned in his hold to look up at him, you tucked his hair behind his ears, admiring his handsome face. You could see his cheeks darken in the flickering light, “I thought I lost you.” You whispered as small tears escaped your eyes and trailed down your cheeks. 

You saw small tears fill his eyes as he rested his forehead against yours, “Only thing keepin’ me goin’ was you. Wanted to get home to ya.” He whispered, his voice full of emotions as you saw a small tear track down his cheek. 

You wiped it away with your thumb, “M’here now. Not going anywhere.” You whispered to him and he smiled softly and caught your lips in a soft kiss. His hands let go of yours and moved down to grasp your hips softly. You trailed your hands up his chest to tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.  

His hands moved down to grasp your ass tight. You let out a surprised gasp as you felt his strong hands slip into the back of your jeans. You moved your hands down to undo his button-up, caressing up and down his bare chest. He quickly undid your jeans slipping them down your thighs to reveal your panties while you undid his jeans and pulled out his hardening cock. You stroked him slowly in your hand as he kissed down your neck, nipping on your pulse point, sucking a bruise into your skin. His hands moved down to slide your panties aside and helped you sink down on his hard cock. You moaned his name as your hips met his, his cock deep in your cunt, the tip kissing your cervix as he bottomed out in you.

You laced your fingers through his hair, pulling him back in for a kiss as you slowly started moving your hips up and down, letting out moans and gasps against his lips. His cock brushed against your sweet spot with every thrust, as his hips bucked up into you, matching your pace while his hands grasped your hips tight. He grunted softly with each thrust, “F-fuck, darlin’. Been too long.” His voice sounded rough and strung out as he pushed you to your orgasm. His thrusts grew faster and harder as you two chased your orgasms.

“M’so close, Dar. Wanna cum with you. Please.” You whined as you felt the coil in your belly tightened as he moved a hand down to circle your clit with his rough fingers. You caught his lips in a deep kiss as you moaned louder, cumming around his cock hard. Your thighs shaking from their place around his hips, and he groaned against your lips as he reached his orgasm, painting your walls white with his spend. You moaned as you felt his warm cum fill you up and your fingers dug into his shoulders as you rode out your orgasm, your walls milking his cock with each pulse of your walls. 

You slumped against him, his cock still deep in you. You rested your forehead against his and you cupped his cheeks softly, giving him a small smile. “I love you, Daryl.” You whispered softly, caressing his cheek softly, tucking a strand of his dark hair behind his ear. 

He gave you a small smile and pecked your nose, making you blush softly. “I love ya too, darlin’.” He mumbled and you nuzzled into his chest, vowing never to let go of his ever again.

[pastlivesxpastlie]

⋆˚₊ show me what you are ⋆˚₊

enemies with benefits vessel x f!reader

summary: you despise your friend of a friend vessel, and he despises you. but you quickly learn you have more in common that you ever thought.

7.4k words

tags, head's up, etc: SMUT, soft sub!vessel, soft domme!reader, lots of antagonizing one another, enemies to lovers, established enemies, casual arrangement, making out, idiots in lust, sexting, masturbation (m + f), praise, dirty talk, pet names (puppy, mommy), cockwarming, cowgirl, pronebone, squirting

a/n: I'm nervous about this one. I've been working on this before I started feeling depressed and I just want it out on the world. Also, in the (paraphrased) words of @rat-that-writes "he could never hate me. I'm too hot."

You’re minding your business at a cafe when he comes in. You lock eyes like you normally do when you happen upon each other. Blank, dead eyes. Face so flat it’s not even a scowl. Sighs. Vessel. A friend of a friend of a roommate of a friend. And a thorn in your side. Ok yes he’s very smart…and witty…and talented…but it doesn’t make him any less arrogant and annoying to be around. You two run in the same circles but that doesn’t mean you hang out. You just exist, for better or for worse, in the same space. No one could understand why you and him didn’t get along. You two weren’t so similar that it was grating, but you also weren’t so different that you were unable to find common ground. But there was something in the way of you two connecting. Of feeling anything other than hate. 

You look back down at your book until you hear the chair across from you scrap across the floor and someone slump into it. 

“I need you.”

You take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of your nose. You look up at Vessel and notice he’s staring at you expectantly. 

“Say something,” he says somewhere between a plea and a demand. 

“What are you talking about…you ‘need’ me?”

He looks down. “Uhm, well, you see…”

“Ves…spit it out.” You’re trying to keep your voice down as more people come into the cafe. Why couldn’t you have had this conversation at the party you both attended the night before? 

“I…fuck. I have…needs and…”

“Oh Jesus Christ.” You roll your eyes and crack your neck. “It’s 10 am…”

“No, let me…finish. God. I…have needs and I don’t really…want to look far. To get them met. Do you understand? Uhm…I..”

Is he asking for…?

“Use your words.”

He doubles back a little and licks his lips. Why do his eyes look watery? “Yeah. Yeah I'll use my words. Uhm. I was wondering if you’d be interested in exploring something sort of…loose with me. No strings.”

You laugh out loud from shock. “Is this a sick joke?”

Oh his little heart breaks when you laugh. You can see it. His sweet face drops. “No…no oh my god. I would never joke about this. Look. Hear me out. I…hun I am desperate. I need to just…” he puts his hand to his forehead… “I need the companionship…and the release…but I don’t have it in me to look for a relationship. Not right now and perhaps never.”

This is the first time you’ve seen him vulnerable and quite frankly you could get used to it. There was something about his voice that was different. Calm. Normal. Sincere. But you still feel that pull towards aggression. Instigation. “And someone you actively despise and harrass is your top pick for a fuck buddy?”

“I know we argue a lot!” he barks back. You shift uncomfortably as a couple at a nearby table glare at you both. Vessel clears his throat and lowers his voice. “We don’t get along. And what I’m asking for is a bit much…maybe we just…pretend for a bit? Every once in a while?” He gulps and shakes his head. “I’m genuinely pathetic, I’m…I’m so sorry. I’m being a fucking knob.”

You cross your arms and consider what he’s saying. “So you’re asking to have some kind of…situationship with me…without ever trying to be nice to me first?”

He wipes his hand down his face and groans. “I…fuck it. Yeah I am. I am here groveling and asking you to sleep with me every so often so that maybe I don’t do my own head in. And, also, I just thought maybe…since you’re…pent up and shitty like me. Maybe you’d like to have some fun every once in a while? It would be mutually beneficial. Our mouths would be busy, eyes closed. Maybe we wouldn’t even know it was the other.”

You scoff. “What is that supposed to mean? Pent up…” you straighten in your seat. But you knew exactly what he meant. You were high strung a lot, and Vessel made an excellent target for your frustrations. How could two shit stirrers find any kind of solace with each other? But…you didn’t have any other prospects banging down the door (or you). You put your hands up in surrender. “Ok. Ok. I’ll bite. Yeah…fun would be nice…”

“Right…yeah, yeah. Because I get the impression it’s been a minute for you and…”

“Dude, come on!” You interrupt. 

“Look,” he shakes his head and looks away, “you’re a nice girl when you want to be. And maybe if this arrangement is with you…someone I don’t really see often or whatever…” he finally looks you in the eyes.

~

That next Friday you’re in his flat for the first time. You sit on the couch awkwardly as he brings you some water and plops beside you. Ves bites the inside of his cheek. No one has really made any moves but first times are always awkward right? No matter what was going to happen tonight, it would be a first of some sort. The first time you’re nice to each other. The first time you really touch each other. “You look pretty.” He says sheepishly. 

You look down at your baggy band tee and short yoga shorts. “Don’t lie to me.”

“My god just take the compliment. We’re here just trying to have a good time and…”

“Ok ok. Thank you…Ves…that’s sweet of you to say.”

He turns a bit more towards you, searching your face. His eyes trace your body head to toe as he tries to stifle a small smile. This was his idea and yet he still doesn’t want to show you how much he likes looking at you. Being around your pretty self. You suddenly start to feel nervous as he scoots closer to you. He curls his long legs up underneath him and gently touches your arm. You study his fingers like they’re some harmless little bugs before bringing your gaze back up to his face. He’s not ugly. No. You just never think about his looks because he’s so annoying to you. But here you both are, looking at each other in quiet fascination. Your breath hitches.

“Why me, Ves?”

“Why not you?” Vessel rolls his eyes and moves a little closer and puts his hand out tentatively near your thigh. You gulp, pulling his hand to rest on your smooth skin. His hand rubs gentle strokes against you and his breath deepens. “You feel so good. God.”

“Yeah?”

He bites his lip and looks at you so dreamily. You chuckle. The world stops for what feels like the hundredth time since you’ve gotten here. You feel your head spin a little as he looks at you with what you want to call “desire,” but how could you two ever feel anything other than disdain? Vessel clears his throat slightly. “You can back out…before everything changes…”

“Everything’s changed already, Ves.”

His hand moves up your thigh and squeezes, kneading your soft flesh. He hums contently when you move closer, nearly on his lap. You were wrong when you said everything had already changed. It actually changed the moment you two instinctively moved closer. Not a kiss, but a hug. At first it was tense. Like siblings being told to hug it out. But soon the awkwardness wasn’t the most distracting thing. It was how he felt to you. Sure he was lanky and toned, but he had a softness. A gentleness in how his arms pulled you close and enveloped you. It made you feel like the tiniest thing. And you could tell he enjoyed it and wanted to relax. As he loosened up, he held you closer. He breathed you in. You swear you could fall asleep until he drags cheek and nose up your neck…it reminded you of an animal scenting something. Or maybe he wanted your essence on him. He starts to speak in a barely there whisper and then clears his throat.

“May I, please, start kissing you?”

You gulp. The hug alone aroused you, and the thought of kissing him made you feel completely brainless. “Yeah,” you whisper thickly. 

Vessel places small, gentle kisses in the crook of your neck, taking his time and breathing deeply between each peck. His lips are naturally pouty and feel so soft on your skin. He lets his lower lip drag up to your jaw before placing a delicate kiss right by your earlobe. You would say you don’t know what to do with your hands but they move on instinct. One gently squeezes his waist as the other traces lazy patterns on the back of his neck. 

“I love how your nails feel on me,” he whispers. He sounds like a different person. He’s actually lost in you…and you would know because you’re lost in him. You let your hand drift up to his hairline where you begin to scratch his scalp. His head falls back; his eyes closed and lips slightly parted. You chuckle softly and move both hands to his hair. Eventually you’re in his lap but you’re hesitantly to really relax. “I’ve got you. Have a seat, love.”

You start to feel nervous and the nasty voice in your head that says you’re not worthy and perfect for this kind of situation gets louder. “Is it because I’m easy? Do you think I’m easy?” You blurt out. So many times you’ve been taken advantage of and it wouldn’t even surprise you if this was one of those times where you were in the right place and desperate. 

Vessel’s eyes open, and he looks at you completely lost. He leans forward and helps you cross your legs around his waist. “You… darling…are one of the most difficult people I’ve ever encountered. It must really mean something if you’re here…in my flat…nestled on my lap. And I’m grateful. Thank you.” He begins kissing your neck again but with more fervor this time. More need. Your back arches as his kisses become wetter and his hands knead your plush thighs and ass. It’s no use. You give in to instinct and gently move his face to yours but you both stop. Your noses touch but the realization starts to set in. As quickly as you came together, you’re pulling apart.

“This isn’t the move, is it?” You ask, getting off his lap and smoothing your hair back.

Vessel inhales and rubs his face, groaning. “No. It was a mistake. Besides, you gave me that look.”

“What look?!”

“Oh don’t play dumb. You know the look. The one where you watch me flounder when you could help me.”

You scoff and stand up. “Wow you’re catching on. That’s how I always look at you.” You start to walk towards the door when you turn back to him. He hasn’t left his seat on the couch and doesn’t seem to care to do so. You’re not quite sure what you’re feeling. Arousal, but also annoyance at how quickly the mood changed. Certainly it was Vessel that ruined it, right? You feel that familiar stirring. To project. To rile him up and tear him down. 

He stares back at you. “You’re as pathetic as me. Don’t forget that. You wanted this too. You probably still do.”

Him being both right and cruel about it ignites a white hot rage inside you. You want to scream at him

ask what you did to deserve this from him. To ask him why he makes himself so easy to hate. But instead, you leave. 

...

A week later you’ve kept your weird interaction with Vessel in the back of your head but until then, you couldn’t give two dicks. It was the weekend. And it wasn’t like you to be at a bar like this. Metalheads. The hottest, tiniest goth girlfriends you’d ever seen. You felt out of place but your friends said “noooo we should go! It’s something different to do.” So you put on little black dress and Dr Martens and said “fuck it.” And you were glad you did because a new environment also meant new guys…and to your surprise you actually got some positive attention. 

You found yourself chatting with a guy at the bar as you waited for your drink. He was friendly and handsome enough; you had the ugly thought that maybe he was one of those metalheads who had never actually spoken to a girl, but that was quickly forgotten when you started a thoughtful conversation about a series you both like. And it wasn’t one of those conversations where a nerdy guy dominates and info dumps and corrects you like a jackass. It’s just…enjoyable. He finally starts warming up to you a little and lets his hand graze yours, laughing at your reaction when a sludgier song comes on. You bite your lip and giggle a little, flirting with him saying, “maybe I need someone to help me appreciate metal a little more.” Your hands briefly touch again, and he leans a little closer…letting his free hand lightly touch your waist. You play coy and back up a little. It looks like he’s about to get his phone out before his eyes trail up and behind you. You’re wondering what he’s looking at until you feel a looming presence and a wide hand rub against your back and shoulder.

“There you are, gorgeous. I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

Your jaw clenches into a tight, fake smile. That accent. You look up at your uninvited guest.

“Hello, Ves. I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

The cute guy you were talking to looks confused and maybe a little sad. Fuck! You facepalm and groan as Vessel waves to him nonchalantly. “Heya…alright, mate?” His voice is dripping in sarcasm. 

Your brain scrambles. “He just means I’d been up here for so long I forgot about the friend group” you say trying to save face. “Not just him. Definitely not.” Vessel squeezes your hip in feigned affection which makes the guy tsk, roll his eyes, and walk away. “Wait, I’m serious,” but he’s already gone. You scoff, ready to pummel Vessel who was easily a head taller than you and more than capable of overpowering you if you tried. You actually liked that guy and thought something was there.

“What the fuck was that?” You ask, eyes shooting daggers into Ves. 

He snorts and shrugs. This is no big deal to him. “That guy was a loser.”

“So?! What do you care?”

“Oh come now, babes. You would have annoyed that bastard to death…he could have never kept up with you.” That shit eating grin. God you could just slap it right off of him. You know that he would leave you alone if you just…didn’t respond. Ignored him. But something kept telling you to egg him on. To react.

“You’re such a dick,” you say, rolling your eyes and walking away. You make it halfway across the bar when he grabs your arm. 

“HEY! I came over to talk to you. Don’t walk away from me.”

“Wow, and how inviting you seem right now! Sabotaging my night and grabbing me. Is this the only way you can get girls near you?”

His brows knit together and he stands closer to you…so much so you’re looking straight up. “Sabotage? Did you like him that much? If you really, really wanted to go home with him tonight then why are you here with me? Also…” he leans down to whisper, “I didn’t have to do much pulling and prodding to get to you mine last week.”

“What the fuck do you want” you sneer. But you find yourself wanting to stay put. The warmth radiating from his tall form. His cologne. The intensity of his gaze. Your attempt at a makeout session last week suddenly replayed in your head very loudly. You snap back to reality when Vessel huffs with a terse laugh and looks away. 

“I hate to say it but…I wanted to ask you something. Ask you…for something…again.” You search his face for understanding. He can’t even look you in the eye but you can tell he’s humiliated. Tail-between-the-legs humiliated. Little-boy-caught-by-mommy humiliated. The pause is heavy. The ambient noise in the bar fades away when he looks at you. He tries to find words but they aren’t coming. “Fuck. Never…never mind, it's stupid. Have a nice night” He lets go of your arm and storms away. 

You’re left there with your jaw on the floor. Usually this tall arrogant nerd wouldn’t shut up giving you a hard time. Now he’s running away. Without thinking, you follow him outside the bar and call out. 

“Ves, what the hell was that?” You hate to say it but you actually feel concerned. Like you have to finally put down your senseless grudge and actually talk to him. “Are you ok?” 

He looks out down the street. It’s a busy Friday night. Folks bar hopping, getting Ubers, whatever people who like each other do downtown, but it feels like it’s just you two. Your eyes bore into him, and he finally looks down at you. Blankly, but at least he’s looking at you. “I know how we can make the…‘situation’ work. 

“Oh? Other than bothering someone else?”

“Do you know what? This is your problem. You’re mouthy and always antagonizing to try to keep some hold over me…and I want all of it. I need you to keep being that way with me. Please.” His voice has dropped to a gravely murmur as his hands shake in clenched fists at his side. 

You two stare at each other for a moment too long. It’s uncomfortably intimate. You’re having a conversation without speaking and it eats at you. You should not want this. Not again. Not him. “What do you mean?”

He fidgets. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Are you kidding? You’re really going to stand here and ask me for something again without defining any terms? Without playing your part in whatever this sick little thing is?”

“If it’s so sick then why are you blushing? You blushed like that when I kissed your neck in my flat. You’re like me. Come on.”

You cock an eyebrow, realizing slowly what he means. “You like this…don’t you? Being put in your place?”

“You haven’t actually done it yet, but…if you did…we’d all feel better. Even if for a brief moment. An hour. An evening. Just…please,” he takes on that same pleading…groveling tone again. He means it. “I can’t…for lack of a better word and I know it’s stupid but…I can’t ‘show up’ and turn my brain off if we’re…equals or something.. So please…where do I belong? Tell me.”

The idea that this…dummy who antagonizes you wants to submit to you breaks your brain. But wait. 

“How did you even know to ask me about this, hm? Did you ask around…maybe even try to snoop on my socials?” Your voice isn’t harsh, but it isn’t gentle. Strict. Probing. 

The way he looks down and rubs the back of his neck, which suddenly looks biteable, is adorable. He gulps. “I uhm…I’m sorry…but I..”

You bite your lip and chuckle as he shifts from one foot to another. A couple walks past and gives you both a once over, which makes you stand closer to him. If he wants to feel claimed, you can try. Being in his personal space where everyone can see.

“I uhm…I heard you talking not too long ago…about…” he lowers his voice “about subby guys and…well..”

“Wooooow….so… been eavesdropping, eh, bub?”

He opens his mouth and only a little whimper comes out. “I’m so sorry.” He keeps looking down, but you reach up and guide his chin so he looks at you. 

“What a resourceful boy…” you say in a sticky sweet voice. “You were just dying to find something out to the point that you decided to sneak around? Was it fun? Little puppy sniffing around for clues…hm?”

Oh the blush that covers his face. The way his eyes sparkle. You know exactly when he overheard you wax poetic about submissive men to your friends at that party…because you knew he was there. You wanted him to hear…because you had your suspicions too. “Answer my question. Dig up your bones for me…did you have fun with your little secret mission?” 

He breaths shakily and bites his lip. Finally he nods…and gives you a big cheeky grin. “Yes ma’am.”

“Eh don’t call me ‘ma’am.’ Makes me sound old.”

“Oh sorry sorry uhhh I don’t mean to…”

“Ves…my goodness…it’s ok. You didn’t know.” You chuckle softly and feel like you’re looking at him for the first time. “Don’t be hard on yourself. And that’s my first order for you.” 

His back straightens a little and his pouty lips curl into a shy smile. “I can do that.”

“Good boy.” You can see his pupils dilate…his breath catch…his heart swell. Oh to be your good boy even though you despise him. 

Something inside you has snapped. Suddenly this insane “mutually beneficial” arrangement excites you. Having casual sex with someone you don’t like in the name of “some fun” was ok, but seeing now that he was naturally submissive made your head spin. This you could work with. 

“I will take a crumb. Honestly. Anything you’ll give me…even if this is the last time we talk about it and it falls through again…”

You put your hand up to stop him. “Stop that.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He winces when the word leaves his mouth. 

You smirk and brush his hair back a bit. Your nails lightly scratching his forehead. He wants to purr. To roll his eyes back and feel your nails all over him. 

“Look at you,” you whisper, letting your nails trail over his cheek. “Such a big baby. Aren’t you?”

“Let me take you home…please. Please…”

“No. Hmm. No, I don't think so. Not tonight.” 

He pouts a little bit but nods. “Yeah…yeah ok.”

“Mhm…be patient for me. Can you do that?”

He nods and bites his lip. You can tell he’s excited. “When we’re not like…playing or whatever…you don’t have to treat me any differently. It can be our secret. As we were, yeah?”

You take your time with this. You two rarely see each other as it is and like hell you’d mess with him in front of others. So things develop over texting and the occasional late night phone call…but usually texting. Talking on the phone leads to tone policing. Arguments. It’s best to just keep things borderline anonymous. 

Ves: are you too busy for me?

It was 10 pm. You were drinking wine in your underwear watching Scream. Technically, yes, you were busy. But you knew why he was texting and maybe it would be fun to indulge. 

You: I guess not. What do you need?

The response is instant. He was waiting for you.

Ves: nothing really. 

Ves: just wondering about you 

You: what about me?

Ves: what you’re doing. what you’re wearing. if I’ll ever actually get to be your good boy. feels like you want me at arms length all the time. Is that part of the fun for you?

What seemed like a fun flirty conversation has now turned somewhat emotional. You sigh, desperate to get things back on track. As you try to formulate a response, you get…oh.

The video’s thumbnail is dark, but you open it anyways. You hear blankets rustling and music being turned down as it becomes clear what he’s sent you. He’s laying on his back in bed; the blanket is pushed down to right below his belly button. You’ve never seen him shirtless…and now that’s all you want to see. Yeah he works out but he looks soft. Kissable. You can imagine how fun it would be to kiss down his neck to his tummy, telling him how pretty he is…making him feel small and fuckable. He starts talking…you can tell he’s nervous.

“Maybe this is too needy…too pathetic…I don’t know” he strokes his free hand mindlessly up and down his stomach, “but you like this. Maybe you want me to act out. Just tell me…please… Do you want me like this? Desperate…completely stupid…” As his voice trails off, he moves his hand down to his blanket-covered waist and palms…

“Oh shit,” you whisper as the outline of his cock comes into view and he speaks again. 

“I want you to want this…please…can I be needy for you?” The video ends just as he lets out a soft, breathy whimper. 

You compose yourself…or try to…and respond. 

You: look at you. Are you comfy in that big bed?

Again, the response is instant. 

Ves: yeah but I’m lonelllyyyyy. 

You: just pretend it’s me, sweetheart.

Ten minutes pass. Wait. Why are you sad he didn’t respond? Why do you care? Why…*ding ding*

Ves: ok, I did it. did I do good?🥺

Another text. A picture. What. A. Sight.

His hand concealed his now flaccid cock… but fully on show was his cum covered tummy. You choke back a moan and grasp your blankets. At this point you’ve forgotten who you’re texting and quite frankly you don’t care. 

You: such a good boy 🐶 you’re a hot mess, aren’t you? 

Crickets. Fucking. Crickets. You don’t hear from him for three days. You keep telling yourself it’s ok and not worth thinking about because you hate each other. It’s just mindless fun. Nothing personal. But then…it dawns on you. You’re technically in charge. 

You: come over  Ves: why? You: why do you think? be here at 8. don’t be a brat  Ves: 🧎‍♂️🐶 see you at 8

Right on the dot, he’s there. You’re hoping this doesn’t end the way it did last time. Necking in his lap before you came to your senses. But the energy is different. He stands close to and studies your face.

“What should I call you? When we’re…you know?”

“What feels natural? Other than ma’am…” you chuckle. Aw. An inside joke. 

He bites his lip and blushes. Why is he doing sweater paws with his hoodie? Such a slut. 

“I can think of one but…” he stammers, “not quite brave enough yet to use it.”

“That’s ok.” Your hands drift up to his chest, where you start to play with drawstrings of his hoodie. “Let me get you some water…do you need a snack before we get started?” 

He considers for a bit but shakes his head. “I can wait until you’re done with me”

You suppress a whimper. He’s in his subspace for you. Get it together. Also, easily entertained much? 

All he said implied was that he’d need sustenance after whatever you do to him because you’ll use him for all he’s worth. Very normal! Not worth whimpering over! “Let me show you my bedroom.” 

You gently pull let the hoodie’s drawstrings bounce as you let go of them. When you step inside your room he chuckles a little.

“Squishmallows eh?”

You give him a playful sneer, although any other time you would have laid into him. “Better get comfy with them if you want to do this.”

He’s already on the bed, shoes kicked off. He grabs one that looks like a shark and holds it to his chest. “Genuinely…your bedroom is really cozy. Thanks for having me over.” He says this as if it was any other conversation, but then he licks his lips a little. “I’m just going to lay here until you need or want me to do something. Is that ok?”

Well. You’re already straddling him before he can finish. “What have you been doing the past three days…hm?”

“I uh…” he stammers and looks up at you with watery puppy eyes. “Working. But…there were some things I didn’t do…”

“Yeah like talk to me.”

“Tsk. Stop. Just because we’re doing this doesn’t mean I’ve become a complete nympho. Honestly.” He rolls his eyes and looks away. “I was going to text you tomorrow anyways. I haven’t touched myself since that night we texted…haven’t…” he shifts under your weight and you feel a slight throb.

“Oh…is three days a long time for you? Hmm?”

He chuckles a little and squeezes the shark. “It’s…” he snorts when he laughs and hides his face. You move his hands and he chuckles a little more. What a beautiful sound. You realize you could recognize it anywhere and be better for it. “Yeah yeah yeah. It's been a long time for me. It’s usually everyday. Twice.”

“You gave up…six orgasms…for me? Of your own free will?”

“I wanted to do eight, gorgeous. I really did. But you texted and…”

“Well who said you were cumming tonight?”

He takes a deep breath and his eyes roll back a little. “My mistake.”

“No no no.” You lean down and kiss his forehead. “You did the right thing. Saving yourself up for me.” Your kisses trail down to his jaw. Fuck his soft and smooth. You gently nip at his earlobe and chuckle softly as he whines with pleasure. “You know what you are?”

“Hmm?” He lets out hazily. 

“A good boy. A good puppy. Coming when called. Obeying.” Your nose trails against his and you think for a second that this will be a repeat. You two will snap out of it. But he squirms again and pouts.

“I can be so good…please…”

“I’m not even doing anything to you yet…”

He groans as you slide off him and start palming his crotch. 

“Do you know how many times I got off thinking about that video you sent me?”

His cock bobs against your touch as he groans pathetically. “N-no…no idea. It wasn’t much…” 

You start to stroke him. Oh he’s needed this. His hips buck up into hand as he white knuckles the stuffed shark. Mumbled pleas fall from his pretty lips as you ask him what he’s hiding in his sweats. Your fingers slide under his waistband. His moans are whiny and whimpering. 

“Such a puppy.”

You slide his sweats and underwear slowly…just enough to free his cock. You gasp aloud. “Oh my goodness…Ves…look at you. Look. HEY.” You snap a bit to get his attention. His head is lolling back and you haven’t even touched his uncovered cock yet. “I said to look.”

He looks down and groans again as your manicured hands stroke him. You bite your lip and think about how exquisite it’ll feel inside you. The shark squishmallow is put to the side, and he comes up on his elbows. “Mmm..mm…your hands are so pretty. S’soft. Fuuuuck.” Your strokes are gentle and steady. His hips buck to control the pace but you gently flick his tummy. 

“Good boys don’t take.”

He pouts and settles into your bed. He seems to be enjoying himself. His legs twitching, his moans coming more often than not. But you wanted to play. You wanted his brain off. For now he was yours. You stop stroking. “Ves. Look at me.”

He whimpers when you stop and raises his head. The whimper turns into a strangled sob as the long string of spit from your lips coats the head. Your slow, teasing, wet strokes make his face contort like he’s sobbing. “Fffffff….uuuuCK! M-m-mmmm…mommy please.” You freeze and look up at him. 

“What was that?”

His face is all panic. “Oh my god oh my god no I’m sorry. It just slipped out…I’ll…fuck…no I’m so sorry.”

You lean forward and shut him up with a tender kiss on the lips. You allow his hands to trail over your ass and breasts, letting his touch linger a bit too long over your nipples. When you pull away, he’s blushing like crazy with hazy, dreamy eyes. “You’re such a good boy,” you whisper.

“T-thank you…mommy.” 

You slip out of your clothes and relish in his gaze. For the first time you don’t feel like he’s here to be your biggest critic…and you don’t need to mouth off to him. He looks at you with a dopey little grin. “Are you going to use me?”

You chuckle softly as you straddle him again. “You could say that. Make you my little boy toy. Would you like that?”

His whimpering keeps him from answering, probably because you’re teasing the head of his cock with your already wet pussy. “God…please use me. Please…it’s what I’m good for…I’ll make you so happy mommy I promise…please!!”

You blush and forget yourself for a bit when he brings one of his hands to his face. He looks adorable. He needs to be held. He needs kisses. “Give me a hand, puppy. Hold yourself still.”

He reaches down and holds his cock as you slide down. He hisses in pleasure and whines as you moan from the stretch. You grasp his chest as his cock disappears into your pretty pussy, your head thrown back and mouth wide open. Vessel’s breath is coming hard and fast as he touches you. He’s bottomed out inside you and he doesn’t dare move. You haven’t told him to. He needs to be good. The past three days won’t have been worth it if he fucks this up. 

You reach back and pat his thigh. “Bend your legs, puppy.”

“Yeah…yeah ok…” he groans out as he obeys. One hand holds his waist while the other trails under his hoodie. He whimpers and bites his lip as you toy with his nipple. 

“Lift your hoodie.” He lifts it only to expose his stomach but stops there. You tsk and pull it up so his chest is uncovered…mmm. “Look at my pretty boy…” you whisper as you kiss across his chest. You take in the warmth and natural scent of his skin…how he tastes under your little licks across his nipples…the texture of his skin between your teeth. A delicious chain reaction occurs when his cock throbs hard against you after leaving teeth marks on one of his pecs. “You’re being so good. I didn’t even have to tell you what to do.”

He looks at you hazily. You’ve only been cockwarming him, and he’s already empty headed. He nods dumbly but then yelps when your pussy clenched around him. 

“Tell me what you thought about that night…when you made the video.”

He gulps and holds you close to his chest. His cock is buried in your tight pussy but he doesn’t dare move.

“I..heh…I thought about being your seat. Your human mattress.”

You kiss and suck on his neck, admiring the red marks already decorating him. “Oh? You like being squished?”

“I thought about something like this. But you’re…you’re fucking me. You lay on my dead weight and then…” his cock throbs inside you and he whimpers.

“Shh I know,” you kiss his temple and nuzzle his face gently. “It feels so fucking good, huh? You like being under me like this?”

“Mhmmm…so safe…mm soft…fuck!” He holds on to you like he did with the shark plushie, his fingers pressing into your flesh desperately. He grits his teeth as he throbs inside you and whines. “Y-y-you’re so…tight. What the fuuuuuck.”

All this time you’ve been covering his face with kisses, grabbing his chin every time he tried to hide from your affection. His heels dig into your bed as he tries to keep himself from squirming and fucking you.

“Can you be still? Hm?”

“Ye…yeah. Yeah sorry…you just…aahhhh fuck…”

“Use your words, Vessy.” 

His eyes roll back and his back arches slightly. “Don’t call me that…makes me feel little…”

“I do have you pinned down…don’t I? You’re the one squirming.”

His eyes are glassy as he pouts. “Are you enjoying this? I…I…don’t feel like you are…”

You consider this for a second. 

“I don’t want to keep going if you’re not…” His eyes are desperate. “You need this too…fuck…please tell me you need this. You want this right? Please I’ll make you feel so good…if you just bounce on it a little. Please please…I’ll be such a good boy. You can lay on me and…and…I’ll just be a toy. I can take it…let me show you.” 

You don’t even realize you’ve started fucking him. Your hips roll gently, and he lets out an almost pained moan. His hips meet yours and your eyes roll back.

“Fuck…puppy…” your head and vision go a bit fuzzy as he bucks into you and…oh dear.

“Shit shit shit…I’m…I’m sorry…I’m cumming…baby…baby…” he bites his lip and looks up for reassurance as his hands mash you down further on his cock. He hates that he came so fast, it’s clear, but fuck it feels good. 

“It’s ok…cum for me…” you whisper. 

He lays back and catches his breath. You don’t move…his spent cock still trembling in your pussy. He whimpers pathetically.

“What’s wrong?” You ask. He’s clearly not just coming off his high. 

“Fuck I just….” He closes his eyes. “That’s so embarrassing. We barely did anything and I just…came like a fucking virgin. Go ahead.” He covers his eyes with his arm, “make fun of me. Tell me how pathetic I am.” Wow. He already wants to go back to normal.

“No. I don’t think I will.” 

You’re still on top of him. Cockwarming him. You gently move his arm and look at him softly. His lips twitch. Not to kiss you, but to try and smile. 

“You feel nice on me,” he whispers. “I really like your body. Even…even before we started this. Thought you were pretty.”

You chuckle a little and rest your chin in your hand. “Not sure why.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do you know why I hate you?”

You shake your head and let out a little laugh. 

“It’s because you’ve made me realize I don’t have to be miserable. That I could be someone to someone else. But that requires…change. Taking care of my…stupid self. Being better. I can’t have you. You don’t want me as I am. Honestly. I’m a wreck. It’s better for you to hate me and only see me as a plaything.”

His hands trace lazy patterns on your back. How strange it is to have this conversation while he’s inside…but that doesn’t bother you as much as his confession does. 

“Vessel. Jesus. I…Ves…I can’t stand you because you’ve never been nice to me. And now you’re saying it’s because you like me too much, yet not enough to get over yourself?”

He winces and sniffs. “It would be easier, getting over myself, rather than trying to not feel something for you.”

You move his face so he’s looking at you again. “Do you want to leave,” you ask. “You don’t have to stay longer than you want.”

Ves cups your face and tries to steady his breathing. “No. No, I don't want to leave. I want to stay and pretend I’m not me for just a little while. Is that ok?” You stare at each other…your breathing syncs…your eyes search other’s face. He strokes your face and purrs softly as his cock begins to stiffen again. Each time it throbs, you whimper, which in turn makes him chuckle softly. His hand slides down to your ass. “I need you. You’re the only one I want to…be with like this.”

“You don’t want this with someone you love.”

His eyes bore through you. He huffs and bites his lip, leaving an indention you swear would break skin. “May I please…may I please fuck you again? Properly. The way you deserve.”

You gasp softly and nod. “Would you like to be on top, puppy?”

His inhale is shuddering and sharp as he nods dumbly. You slide off him and lay beside him on your stomach. Ves seems confused.

“A-a-are you sure? From behind?”

You nod and beckon him closer. He slides off his sweats but you tell him to keep the hoodie on. “How hard are you for me?”

Leaning against you between your legs, he lightly taps his cock on your ass. It’s heavy and feels warm against your curves. He kneads your plush ass and whines a little. “So lucky…I am such..a…lucky…fucking…boy….fuuucckkkk.” He presses into your gushy pussy with a long, pathetic moan. You press against him, and his grip on your hips becomes shaky. “GOD you’re so hot….fuuccckkkkkk.”

You chuckle and moan as he thrusts gently…just trying to create some friction without completely losing his mind. He leans down and you feel the draw strings of his hood tickle your back. You reach behind you.

“What is it?”

“Come here, puppy,” you whisper softly. When he does you’re able to grab the drawstrings…anything to keep him in place. Leash him. Your fingers grip the collar of his hoodie now, and he collapses into you. “You going to be good? Stay right here for me, hm?”

He can’t even speak…he just lets out whimpers and moans that sound like sobs. You can only gasp with each thrust as he blubbers about it feeling “so..so..so..fucking good.” He whines into your shoulder as you pull him closer but the hoodie. “Please…let me…let me touch…please…”

“Mhm…” you let out weakly as he ruts into you. His hand trails down and under you towards your clit. You buck back into him as his nimble fingers find your clit. Cumming on your tummy never came easy, but with an eager lover, you think now it could happen. No matter who’s fingers it was rubbing your puffy clit between his fingers. 

“Mm…baby…baby let me bad. Please I know…i know…i know… I’m good boy but please let me bad…”

You grip your pillow and groan as your pussy quakes around his long cock. He takes this and your slutty, high pitched moan as consent. He takes your wrists in one hand and grips them roughly. You would be concerned about bruises if you weren’t seeing stars from the way his cock’s head rubs against your g-spot. He lets out something like a growl as he fucks you faster and harder. You’re mashed into the bed and cumming for the second time as he grabs you tight and bites your shoulder. You yelp and moan pathetically.

“Ves you’re so bad….you’re so…fucking naughty….” You’re cumming again as you lift your ass like you want him to mount you even deeper. He takes a break just to feel your orgasm squeeze him and to catch his breath. You let go of his hoodie, and he quickly rips it off. A sharp spank lands on your ass…he hisses with pleasure as he watches the skin of your ass cheek pinken before he lands another on you. 

“May…may I roll you over…please” he asks as he pulls out of you and rolls you over. It’s almost adorable how he toes the line between the asshole you know and a precious submissive boy. He spreads your legs, putting one up against his chest as he presses his cock back into you. One hand grasps your tummy and the other holds your ankle for leverage. “You’ve ruined me…” he moans as your name falls from his lips. Over. And over. And…over. He nibbles and kisses your ankle as he presses hard on your squishy lower tummy. His gasps come hard as it’s quite clear he’s reaching his limit.

“Ves…you’re gonna make me…fuck…I’m…”

“That’s it. Please…I want to see it…I need it…you’re so …ffffucking gorgeous….” he grabs you harder and rams into you with a powerful groan, his eyes wild as he exhales and bites his lip. “You’re…you’re going to cum…so….FUCKING hard on me…you won’t be able to cum again without thinking about me…Fffffuuuhhh”

His face contorts as his second orgasm ripples through his entire body. The thrusts become short, hurried bumps against your pussy as your back arches. You begin to rub your clit in rough, hurried circles as he fucks his cum hard into you. His eyes are misty as he mumbles about what a pretty angel you are…how good you’re taking his dick when…oh god…

A few moments later, he’s pulled out of you, looking down at the mess you made. You had never…ever squirted. And this…well…Vessel did that. You had no energy to hate. To be mean. Everything was different now. “I…wow…”

“Ever done that before?”

You lay back and catch your breath, wiping your watering eyes, shaking your head. “No…so…thanks I guess.”

He rubs your thighs and chuckles. “You’re amazing. Do you know that?”

You smile up at him and chuckle.

“Christ, what?”

“You’ve ruined it.”

“Oh…fuck off..ruined what?” He laughs and runs his fingers through his hair.

“My plans to die alone and hate you forever…thanks a lot.”

“Likewise, sweetheart.”

[dogtoling]

General life- and blog update , since I assume at least a few people might have been wondering where I've been and what i've been up to recently. I obviously haven't been posting or drawing much this year in general. This will probably be an important post if you care about stuff on this blog, and I already rambled on Sheezy, but that site isn't very populated yet and it's also very good at hiding journals so let's just ramble again...

The summary of this post if you hate reading: I'm heavily considering just stepping away from Splatoon. That decision obviously would affect this blog (mostly, my OCs, which is kinda most of the blog at this point). I don't think the blog itself will go anywhere, and I'll probably use it for something in the future... alternatively i'll cherry pick stuff from here into an archive for people who like the worldbuilding.

Longer post under cut:

So what have I been up to this year? The answer is quite simple: NOTHING. Like, actually absolutely nothing. Aside from Art Fight, this has probably been one of my worst art output years of all time, which is really frustrating. That's between my horrendous mental health and depression chasms this year and a complete lack of both focus and inspiration (which can also get chalked down to the depression to a degree, yeah). So the very real reason to why there hasn't been much activity on this blog this year is because I just haven't Done Anything in general.

Now because I know there will be a few people who think "that's fine! you shouldn't judge yourself based on productivity!" you're right! I also agree. However the issue for me specifically is that most (if not all) the time I spend NOT drawing or creating, I spend sitting around wishing I could start drawing or creating, because that is like the 1 thing that keeps me sane on this freaking earth. Unfortunately coming up with OC scenarios in my head doesn't really result in output I can feel fulfilled by in any form as much as I wish it did, lol.

Now; The Issue. It doesn't take a genius to see that if you spend 9 months trying to finish like a dozen OC pages that you COULD do in a week or 2 if you wanted to, then there's probably more than just the problem of executive dysfunction (even though that's at least 60% of it for sure). Obviously my other major problem is that I live by imaginary rules and structures that make sense, but aren't actually useful at ALL in reality and are more than a hindrance if anything (the mental to do-list in my head that says i can't do X until I've done Y doesn't do very much if task Y takes 10 months and I also don't want to do it, and it also has no structured ending).

How does this tie into stepping away from Splatoon, you may ask. Well, the issue is that I have foreseeably fallen out of love with the series. Which isn't exactly news lol. Currently, I'm not even sure i will get the next game, if and when the time comes. Yes, the loss of interest is also expected, given that Splatoon 3 has ended and every fandom has this kind of downtime and lukewarm in-between-titles period. But the truth is that modern Splatoon (almost 10 years old!!!!) is tangibly different from the way the series was back when I fell in love with it. That was Splatoon 1, and while the series has improved in a lot of aspects and is thriving, it's grown in a direction that I just don't really like. Splatoon 3 had the most freaking horrendous, immersion breaking story mode they could've done, then they followed it up with a DLC story that was pretty cool but also compounded a lot of my fears about the series' future and played into every single thing i do not want Splatoon stories to be - fully character focused, random fucking villain, mundane event that's unrealistically world-threatening just because a kids video game needs a scary climax even though it's immersion breaking AGAIN, the whole thing taking place in cyberspace and thus offering basically no worldbuilding even though there is SO MUCH WORLD. I COULD GO ON.

The gist of it is that nowadays, rather than playing Splatoon and being inspired and excited at what comes next, I mostly find myself dreading what dumbass plot they will do next to throw a wrench in the otherwise good stuff. And when that's like THE main approach I have to what's supposed to be my favorite series, it is HARROWING. I can't even really blame the game for this; the story is NOT its selling point, the developers probably do their best to get the bits to us that they really want to tell, and at the end of the day the game is unfortunately a product. Worldbuilding for Splatoon is fun to a point. It's less fun when in order to actually write or create something coherent, instead of filling in the blanks, the blanks are 90% of the freaking thing. At that point you're just better off making something of your own instead of being anchored onto an IP that gives more problems than answers and occasionally shoots you with like a machine gun. Working in the realm of Splatoon is frustrating because more often than not, the questions I have ARE NOT MINE TO ANSWER, and the likelihood that the specific-ass questions I need answers to will ever be actually addressed is really low.

Tying this back to my OCs. Obviously I love my OCs more than I love myself which admittedly isn't that high of a bar but you get the point. The problem is that I spend a lot of time mulling over worldbuilding that, again, frankly isn't mine to do. Because if I want it to be Splatoon, then it should be mostly accurate to how Splatoon is! But the problem with that is that there's really not THAT MUCH worldbuilding in the series that you can work with, and most of the core game mechanics are just abstract enough that it's actually horrendous to try and come up with workarounds and ways for things to make sense that don't require just constructing a full knockoff version mirror dimension of the game and saying fuck everything that's in place here because Inkopolis Plaza literally has no roads in or out of there and I have no fucking idea how that's allowed when your only option is to jump the fence (or, nowadays, take the train which also isnt connected to a street as far as I remember). Between the face value issue and the lack of REALLY IMPORTANT worldbuilding, like - I will always come back to this - THE INK TANK'S FUNCTION 10 YEARS DOWN THE LINE - there's a goddamn ocean of plot holes and things that end up being obstacles to creativity rather than inspiration. I feel like I'm pretty solidly at the point (and have been for a while) where hanging onto Splatoon is really only contributing to creativity block and frustration with lack of freedom and the ability to actually do things.

So I guess those are my reasonings that I've put together just sitting here for the time being. The TL;DR is that I wish I could just do stuff without Splatoon's canon getting in the way, which is a really stupid problem to have if you're making Splatoon OCs. I feel this frustration extremely strongly every time I have to work with actual bigger aspects of the world; we still don't have an Inkopolis map, we don't know what the world around Inkopolis looks like, we don't know what the wilderness is like aside from Just Normal Forest and Desert and very few snippets as to what modern wildlife MIGHT be, I still don't know how the fuck the Inklings teleport to the goddamn arctic ocean to play a turf war at Shipshape Cargo co. These are all actually really important things if you're trying to establish a setting in any kind of storytelling that's outside of immediate city bounds (and even there, you need to know the layout of the city and its important areas). Also a fucking mutant bear and a baby salmon and a squid not wearing suitable gear went to space and fought on a rocket in space. These are some things that would give me peace of mind to not have to deal with in my own writing, probably.

So where do we go from here? Unsure. I haven't really made a decision on this front yet, though right now I'm leaning more towards actually going ahead with trying to do my own thing. That will result in obvious design and setting changes for my OCs whenever I get around to it. This blog probably won't go anywhere (again, unless I impulse delete it during a mood swing like i've almost done on like three separate occasions this year), but it will probably get less use, and I will probably end up making a new blog to post about whatever I end up doing once I get to a point where it feels like it makes sense. There's a chance that I will delete this blog and put all the interesting stuff on an archive blog for the people who are here just for the worldbuilding. My actual true passion for a long time now hasn't even been Splatoon anymore, it's just been cephalopods. I'm kind of done having Splatoon get in the way of the cephalopods, as thankful as I am that it introduced me to them...

If you read this to the end heres a treat for you = 🍪

[bellaxgiornata]

In Search of Solace 1|: Breaking Down

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x baker!Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.3k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; depiction of seizures, depression, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, slow burn, smut

Summary: When Birdy witnesses him at his most vulnerable, Mikey finally loses it. After unloading the truth about how he can no longer continue down this path, Birdy promises to help him relocate to a town in the U.S. near Anna's new university–far away from the Kinsellas. But while Michael grapples with the man his family forced him to become, struggling to find peace in his new life, he's surprised when he finds his solace in you and your strange dog.

a/n: I've been sitting on this first part for months and finally decided to post it!! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @loves0phelia @sleepysleepymom

Michael shuffled his way carefully down the edge of the road between both drives, one hand braced against the cool stone of the fence that separated his house from what once had been Jimmy and Amanda’s house–though Jimmy had now long since moved out. He walked slowly, placing each foot deliberately in front of the other as he moved along the darkened street. The rough stone scratched against the palm of his hand as he rounded the corner of the fence, the sharp texture of it helping to keep him semi-alert as he tried not to lose his footing. 

Tonight had not remotely gone well. Michael had needed to leave the family meeting early, unable to sit through anymore of the arguing that had erupted between Jimmy and Amanda before that feeling had hit him. That unfortunately familiar feeling which he absolutely loathed and had no control over. A feeling he was grudgingly growing used to the more he experienced it.

Vision blurring as he began to make his way up his own drive, he watched as his front door swam in his sight, becoming nothing but a haze of shapes and color. Michael stuck a hand into his jacket pocket, his fingers feeling around for his house keys as he tried to hurry his pace, all of his senses steadily beginning to weaken with each step. A tremor had started in his right hand as he began to frantically grab at the keyring in his pocket, but his twitching fingers made it difficult for him to just grab the damn thing and pull it out of his jacket.

All he wanted right now was to make it inside his house before he collapsed on the pavement and had a seizure out in the open for anyone leaving the meeting next door to see. Besides Amanda having accidentally stumbled on him like this once quite a while back, no one else in his family knew about his seizures–and he wanted to keep things that way. The last damn thing he needed was anyone to look at him with pity in their eyes, as if he was weak or some sort of embarrassment. Like he was less than the man they'd all come to expect him to be.

As he neared his door, he felt his heart palpitating, the hammering of it wracking his chest so hard it was impossible to ignore. A sheen of sweat dampened his brow despite the chill of the night, the corner of his mouth beginning to dip downwards as the muscle twitched in his cheek. He wasn’t going to make it inside this time, he could already tell by how loud the ringing in his ears had grown. 

This was all because the family meeting tonight had been an absolute disaster. Jimmy and Amanda couldn’t agree on a damn thing as usual. They'd done nothing but fight in front of everyone the whole time, and somehow Michael had once more been dragged into the middle of the entire situation between them. All because he’d been so fucking stupid as to seek comfort in Amanda after what had happened months back with Molly. 

He should have never slept with Amanda–any of the times he had–despite her and Jimmy splitting up. But he hadn’t truly thought things through at the time, he had just been desperate to feel like someone cared about him for once in his life. And for a brief bit that's what he was able to pretend with her, that she cared about him, but after a while he couldn't pretend that any longer. And he hadn’t truly realized just how difficult his undefined relationship with Amanda would make everything farther down the road. Because now everything felt like it had long since become too much for Michael. 

Which was why he was now left resting a shoulder against his front door, trying to hold himself upright as the buzzing noise grew to an unbearable level in his ears while everything in his line of sight blurred to indecipherable shapes and a mass of colors before his eyes. It had taken him quite a few tries, but he’d finally managed to remove the keys from out of his pocket after many careful attempts. Unfortunately with the rough and jerky movements of his now trembling arm, the keys inevitably slipped from his fingers as he removed his hand from his coat. He felt the little circle of metal slip from his fingers, but he was entirely incapable of reacting in time. The keyring began its inevitable descent to the ground as a rush of helplessness crashed into Michael.

He’d meant to let out a curse when he'd felt the keys slip from his fingertips, but he could barely move his mouth. He didn’t have control over his body anymore, a gargled noise vibrating in his throat instead of the curse he'd meant to release, but all he could hear was the incessant buzzing noise in his damn ears as it remained at an unbearable volume. Michael’s eyes began to close partially as his body slumped further against the wall. His legs were quickly going numb as his arm began to shake more violently at his side. Then his entire body began to drop, absolutely nothing working like he was desperately willing it to. As he collapsed to the ground, he thought he heard a voice, but whether it was close or distant was indistinguishable. Everything besides that goddamn buzzing in his ears sounded like it was coming to him from beneath the surface of water now.

Part of him knew that he was laying there on the ground just before his front door. Somewhere in his mind he was aware of that. But for how long he lay there feeling like he was sinking down to the bottom of the ocean floor was unknown to Michael. He hated whenever these seizures happened, each time more terrifying than the last. He couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t feel anything. He couldn’t really see anything as he lay there, either. It felt like an endless stretch of nothing that he was trapped inside, just hoping he’d somehow come back out of it, landing once more back into his body that he couldn't exactly feel at the moment. These seizures always felt like a waking nightmare to him.

After an undetermined length of time that felt like hours to Michael, the first thing he eventually became aware of was the pain in his back. It started off dull before it grew in intensity to something sharp and persistent. He must've fallen on it when he dropped to the ground and he found himself wondering what else he might’ve hurt this time with the way he'd fallen. After a few more seconds passed he realized his neck hurt, too. Though as more feeling gradually came back to him, he figured it was probably due to the angle his head must’ve landed in. 

Breaking through his thoughts as he steadily became aware of his body once more was the sound of a voice again. Gradually the ringing in his ears began to die down, but he swore he felt gentle hands on his face accompanying the voice. Blinking slowly and unevenly, Michael tried to focus his eyes on the mass of color swimming into view in front of himself, trying to make sense of what it was. Eventually the ringing in his ears dissipated as his vision gradually became less blurry. After some effort Michael was eventually able to realize who was there touching him and speaking to him.

“I'm right here with ya, Michael,” Birdy's panicked voice was saying. “Ya aren't alone, love. I've got ya. I'm here, Mikey.”

Michael opened his mouth, a garbled groan tumbling out of it. He heard Birdy immediately praise a higher power as her hands began running less frantically over his cheeks. The sight of her terrified face hovering just before his finally became clear, her blue eyes creased with worry as she studied his own face in return.

“Are ya alrigh’, pet?” Birdy asked him. 

Hesitantly Michael tried to push himself upright on shaky hands without answering, unsure if he even could properly speak yet. Embarrassment flooded him when Birdy's hands landed on his shoulders, carefully trying to help him into a sitting position before gently leaning his back against the front door behind him. He hadn't wanted anyone to find him like this.

“I saw ya run out of the meetin’ not lookin’ so grand,” Birdy explained, a hint of fear in her voice. “Followed after ya and saw ya just drop straight to the ground shakin’. What's goin’ on, pet? Is somethin’ wrong?”

Somehow a bitter breath of laughter passed his lips as Birdy lowered to sit on the pavement before him. Her dark brows only further drew together on her forehead at the noise, concern still clearly written on her features. 

“What isn’ wrong anymore, Birdy?” Michael shot, his words slurred together as he fought to make his tongue move.

“What d'ya mean, love?” she asked carefully.

Michael slowly shook his head, not wanting to elaborate any further. But with the way Birdy's eyes narrowed at him, he knew she wasn't about to drop it. Especially not after how she'd just found him.

“Talk to me, Michael,” she nearly demanded. “What's goin’ on with ya? What aren't ya tellin’ me?”

“Don't wanna talk ‘bout it, Birdy,” he warned, his tongue moving a little easier this time.

Birdy's lips thinned on her face, her eyes suddenly narrowing into a look of determination that Michael knew all too well. She wasn't letting this go. 

“Let's get ya inside, Mikey, pet,” she said, carefully wrapping one of his arms around her shoulders while her other hand snatched the keyring he had dropped from off the ground.“Then we're goin’ to talk ‘bout whatever is goin’ on with ya. And ya know I'm not takin’ silence as an answer.”

Michael sighed, struggling to rise up onto his feet even with Birdy's help. His body felt like lead, his limbs feeling heavier to move than usual. His mind still felt sluggish as he carefully rose to his feet, briefly swaying unsteadily on them while Birdy tried to support his weight and keep the pair of them from tumbling backwards. When he'd finally regained his balance, she shifted them closer to his front door before unlocking and opening it. 

Moving slow and cautious, she helped lead him over the threshold and inside his house. She paused briefly, closing the door with one hand behind them softly before awkwardly continuing to maneuver the pair of them down his narrow hall and towards the sitting room without bothering to remove either of their shoes. 

Once they'd reached his sofa, she lowered him down onto the cushions before sinking into the space beside him. Michael's eyes remained fixed on his hands in his lap, something like shame burning in his gut under her stare which he could feel boring into the side of his face. This was exactly what he'd hoped to avoid tonight when he'd left the meeting. That expression of pity he knew was on Birdy's face without even looking at her. He could just feel it.

“What was that, Michael?” she tried again, voice softer. “Outside when I found ya on the ground shakin’ like that?”

Gritting his teeth together, he kept his focus on his hands. If he didn't answer her, he feared that she might just go telling someone else in the family what had happened, and he absolutely didn't want that. So unfortunately now it felt like he didn't exactly have a choice but to tell her the truth.

“I have epilepsy,” he grudgingly confessed. “On occasion I have seizures.”

Birdy made a faint noise of surprise beside him, shifting further towards him on the sofa.

“Since when?” she asked. “I've practically raised ya since ya were a boy and I've never seen that happen before.”

Michael ran a hand over his forehead, his fingers running over the sweat that had accumulated on his brow not that long ago. “Started when I was in prison,” he admitted. “Gotten worse afterwards with the stress of everythin’.”

“Stress?” Birdy asked in confusion. “What stress? Ya always seemed fine when I saw ya, pet.”

Her words had caused something inside of him to abruptly snap, his carefully crafted calm having finally reached its limits after years of being stretched thin. He felt his anger rise straight to the surface as his head spun towards Birdy, noticing how her eyes grew wide in surprise and even fright at the expression on his face. 

“Ya thought I was fine?” Michael spat. “Are ya fuckin’ jokin’ me? I was released from prison to move straight back into the house where my wife died, Birdy!” He flung a hand sharply towards the fireplace across the room from them. “The goddamn hole from the bullet that killed her is still right fuckin’ there! Every goddamn time I come home it's always right there! Fuck, I was barely released from prison a few days before Jamie was killed! My own goddamn son!”

Birdy's eyes grew even wider, her body going stiff on the sofa beside him as she held her breath. But now that the words had started to come, he couldn't seem to get them to stop.

“Not a damned one o’ ya even thought to check in on me after he died right in front o' me,” he continued to rage on, feeling hot tears of grief and anger burning at his eyes. “He was mine, too, but none o’ ya gave a damn ‘bout how I felt! No,” he said, shaking his head roughly and ignoring the pain in it as he did. “All I was good for was clippin’ Jamie's killer for Amanda and Jimmy and puttin’ a damn target on all o’ our backs for doin’ it. And then Amanda still had the fuckin’ audacity to come at me after the fact ‘bout Jamie, makin’ me feel like an asshole for not openly claimin’ him as my son after all these years when she's the one who chose Jimmy over me to begin with! The hell else was I s'posed to do? Ruin my brother's fuckin’ marriage completely?”

Michael could feel the tears beginning to sneak their way out of the corner of his eyes, his fury fast giving way to that feeling he always had whenever he eventually made his way back home at night after a job. That feeling of resignation and defeat at the situation he felt trapped inside. The situation his family had somehow forced him into and had made his life. Something he'd never felt he'd had a choice in. Beside him, he noticed the expression on Birdy's face soften as she listened to him.

“All I wanted,” he continued, voice filled with far less fire, “was to come back home and have a relationship with Anna. I just wanted my daughter, Birdy. That's all. Just wanted a normal job and the chance to raise my girl. But the lot o’ ya couldn't even let me fuckin’ have that. No, ya needed me to keep doin’ yer dirty work. Pushin’ me into it and makin’ things fuckin’ worse for me and my chances at gettin’ Anna back. And don't–” he began, shaking his head again as warm tears spilled down his cheeks, “–don't get me started on Bren and all the shit that happened when he was released. Shoulda fuckin’ killed him myself the day he was let outta prison. He wasn't much of a father to begin with and he should've never gone near Anna.”

“Yer right,” Birdy quietly agreed. “He shouldn't have.”

Hesitantly she reached a hand out, lightly grasping one of Michael’s and giving it a gentle squeeze. His eyes dropped down to their joined hands, a frown pulling his lips downwards. 

“I didn't know ya felt this way,” she continued softly. “I'm sorry, love. I–I should've known. Ya just always seemed so put together, I never realized ya weren't doin’ alright.”

“Used to use the gear and booze to handle it all,” he admitted quietly. “That's what I did before. To deal with the stress of everythin’. But those all trigger the seizures now.”

Michael's face twisted in pain and he quickly ducked his head, trying to hide from Birdy. Her arms were soon wrapping around his shoulders though, pulling him in towards herself. Hands rising up, he soon buried his face in them, his teeth clamping down so hard on his bottom lip to muffle the sound of a distressed sob that he almost drew blood.

“This isn’ what ya want, is it, Michael?” she asked gently. “This life?”

“No,” he choked out, shaking his head from its place buried in his hands. “No, I hate it. I hate everythin’ ‘bout it. I can’t–can’t keep doin’ it anymore. The killin’ and the drug pushin’. Worryin’ if things I do are goin’ to land back on Anna. If I'm goin’ to get her killed just like–just like her mother.”

Birdy sighed, one of her hands beginning to soothingly rub Michael’s back as he exhaled a deep, shuddering breath. The moment felt oddly reminiscent of the times she used to comfort him when he was a kid and he'd come to her with something Bren had done. 

“Ya need to get out, sounds like,” she murmured. 

A bitter laugh broke out between Michael's tears. Pulling his face from out of his hands, he glanced up at Birdy beside him, a dark, mirthless smile on his mouth.

“That'll never happen and ya know it, Birdy,” he told her. “They'd never let me just walk away.”

Birdy's eyes hardened as she held his gaze, her lips thinning along her face. “I helped yer mother and sister get away from Bren, didn't I?” she reminded him. “Ya don't think I can handle the others? Get them to leave ya outta all this?”

“That was different,” Michael pointed out, shaking his head. “They rely on me too much. Need me too much.”

“They can rely on someone else then,” Birdy stated sharply. “Because if ya want out, Mikey, I swear to ya I can get ya out before the end o’ the week. Ya hear me? I'll get ya out if that's what ya want.” Her expression softened, something like guilt flashing in her eyes. “Maybe I should've gotten Jimmy and ya out years ago ‘stead of selfishly keeping the both o’ ya here.”

Hope sparked in Michael's chest at her offer, the hope of a way out of this life that he'd never had a say in to begin with. The life that was breaking him down to nothing, slowly killing him from the inside out with all the shame and guilt and pain and disgust he buried deep down inside of himself and pretended wasn't there.

A small, sad smile reached his lips as he focused on Birdy beside him. Her hand was still comfortingly rubbing his back, a small smile forming on her mouth.

“Ya would do that for me?” he asked, almost too afraid to believe it was possible.

Birdy's hand on his back patted him firmly, a fiercely determined look in her eyes. “I'll get Anna and ya both outta here, Mikey. Just leave the Kinsellas to me,” she answered. “I'll deal with the lot o’ them. Then ya can go make yer own life for once, Mikey, love. Whatever ya want it to be. If that's what ya'd like. Far, far from here.” 

A small, watery smile slipped across Michael's lips. He nodded gently in response. “I'd like that,” he confessed softly. “I'd like that a lot.”

[cursedvida]

First time wit his s/o

Warnings: English isn’t my first language so be kind please 🙏🏻

N/A: like 10 years since i wrote something in english. Just a headcanon i habe about this crazy but depressed mew mew. Hope you enjoy

-Buggy has probably been bragging quite a bit about that moment. Promising it will be a night you'll never forget, joking about his experience and capabilities. He'll have shown himself to be quite the seducer in front of you.

-The truth is, he's fucking terrified. It's the first time he sleeps with you and he wants it to go well. No, he doesn't want it: he needs it. He needs the image he's selling of himself and the image you have of him in bed tonight to be the same or even better. So he's nervous as hell, and even though he tries to hide it, the truth is that you can tell.

-Seeing him so vulnerable makes you even more eager to have him near you, so as soon as he starts kissing you, you do everything you can to make things go smoothly. "Is everything all right, baby?" he asks almost in a whisper. You answer him by letting him do it, and watching you surrender to him makes his nerves slowly fade away, until his attitude changes to take control of the situation.

-When Buggy is confident, he becomes much more dominant. He's been craving this for a long time, to know what the feel of his skin against yours feels like, the metallic taste of your lips when he bites the underside. Now he wants to show you everything he's capable of, to make sure you remember that night. His voice goes from soft to raspy, and his whispers no longer seem to be asking for your permission, but sound like hungry moans. "Fuck, I've been looking forward to this," he says, his voice husky behind your ear. "You can't imagine how much I wanted to fuck you."

-He's the kind of guy who talks while he's fucking, in your ear, in a tone that sounds half mocking but at the same time gives you the feeling that he wants to eat you alive. He likes to play and he likes to get you horny because for him the night is young and he seems to have all the time in the world to ruin you. And you would never have thought that someone could warm you up so much with just a few kisses and four sentences.

-Buggy knows, he knows how horny you are without even touching you. It's the reaction he was hoping for, and seeing that his methods have worked, he can't help but smile to himself. "What's the matter, honey, are you wet yet?"

-You simply try to kiss him, but he pulls away slightly. "Buggy, please..."

-Buggy smiles, no more fear, no more nerves. The insecurities have disappeared in the certainty of your surrender. That's when he reaches in, looking you in the eye, "I think you and I are going to have a great time."

[journeyman-tier-fibercraft]

What if you wanted to knit but your body said "arthritis induced depressive episode ONLY" t-t

In my state of Not Knitting I've mostly been playing bideo wames but also decided to indulge in my favourite past time of reading multi million word Korean webnovels. One of said webnovels features a metric fuck ton of Hot Pink Yarn. And a man I'm very normal about knitting things for a man he's very normal about. Including a cardigan.

Do I in any way need a hot pink cardigan knit specifically to mimic the one from the novel? Absolutely not. But I Want It. (Also I've been wanting to knit a cardigan for like a year now and keep changing my mind)

In the novel, the yarn used is from a monster sheep that's later dyed hot pink. I'm not willing to use real wool for this, so instead I'm going with acrylic and got some of Hobbii's Fluffy Day in Deep Pink. Which is just an eye watering colour (canonically the hot pink yarn is painful to behold) and comes personally recommended from a friend of mine. I also got a roll of a glitter thread also sold through Hobbii in pink. Both to make the overall cardigan more obnoxious but also to give it more of a "this is wool from a monster sheep" and not just acrylic yarn.

As for the actual cardigan, it's described as a "Handmade Hot Pink Long Cardigan" "roomy and had big pockets" "(while a wip) an elaborate knitting pattern". There's enough wiggle room I can do basically anything I want with this. But my brain has latched on to the word "elaborate" and won't let go. So as soon as I get my hands on The Yarn, I'm going to swatch for this cardigan pattern published by Vogue Knitting.

It's quite possible this yarn does Not work for that pattern but I want to try it anyway just to suffer. And if it does work, I'll have to grade up the pattern, and potentially make changes to the length of the cardigan (I bought quite a bit more yarn than I thought I'd need just in case). But this pattern just Feels Right, the guy who knits is constantly wearing designer clothes so knitting an actual designer pattern is perfectly in theme. I've also been informed that the Fluffy Day yarn is incredibly warm so having a bit of open work would help with heat regulation.

If I complete this cardigan within the next ten years and have extra yarn left over I'll be sure to knit the matching hat (including a pom-pom), scarf long enough for several people to use, and fingerless gloves. All in hot pink so bright it's probably going to give me several headaches. Read S-Classes I Raised it's so good it'ssogood

[hopefulromances]

Could you write a Roy or Jamie fic with a female character who is anxious and maybe doesn’t feel confident or good enough for them? Thank you 🥰

This one has sat in my inbox for like 8 weeks? Just cause i am an anxious non-confident person and wrote and rewrote this one like 10 times i think. I've been going through a pretty deep depression and have no self esteem and rlly wanted to do this one justice. So i hope you enjoy!

There was a soft rumbling of thunder outside. Jamie rushed in the front door, shaking his hair back and forth to get the wet rain off of it. It was the off-season, which meant no day training, but Roy still came by at 4am and again at 5pm for a run and workout. They'd cut their training short today because of the rain. It was one day off, Roy figured they could both use the break.

Jamie slipped off his shoes and padded back upstairs, excited to slip back into the warm bed with you. When he opened the door, his heart melted at the sight. There you were, curled up in bed with his pillow cuddled tightly to your chest. Your nose was shoved right into the pillowcase, getting as much of Jamie's scent as possible.

He smiled, softly, tiptoeing over to the side of the bed,and pressed a kiss to your forehead. He wanted to get in right now, but you would kill him if he got in with his rain wet clothes on.

He rushed through a quick shower before throwing his boxers on. You were still fast asleep, holding on tightly to his pillow. It was so sweet he could die. Instead, he carefully untangled your limbs from the pillow and let you rest your head on his chest instead. Your body immediately recognized his warmth and wrapped themselves around him tightly.

"Jamie? You're home?" You're sleep heavy voice spoke up.

"Hi, love," Jamie cooed, pushing your hair off your face. "Grandad couldn't handle the rain."

"Was afraid you were gone forever," you murmured, not quite awake.

Jamie frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Always afraid you won't come back," you answered, before falling right back into your deep sleep.

While you snuggled into closer to him, Jamie felt himself struck by what you said. Did you really mean that? You weren't sure if he'd come back? He held you tighter, kissing the top of your head.

He did fall asleep eventually, after holding on to you for as long as he could before drifting off. What woke him was your lips on his face, kissing his jaw then his cheek, getting him awake enough to meet you as you reached his lips.

"Morning, Jay," you greeted, smiling as he opened his eyes.

"Morning, Beautiful," he grumbled, pulling you back down to his lips. It wasn't often that you could wake up together. These sacred moments in the morning waking up to a lazy kiss, they were cherished by Jamie. When you pulled back he kept his hand on your cheek, skimming his fingers over your cheek.

"Why are you afraid I won't come back?"

He didn't want to ruin the moment. But looking at you in this moment, he couldn't imagine ever wanting to leave you. He didn't want you to live in fear of him living.

"What?" you pulled away from him.

"When I came back this morning," he explained, sitting up in the bed. "You said you were afraid I wouldn't come back. "

He watched your face as your processed what he said. "I was... I was probably dreaming I have no idea what you're talking about."

You sat up as well, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Jamie followed, sitting behind you. He brought his hands to your shoulders, digging his thumbs into your back.

"But it's true, isn't it?" he asked, softly, kissing your neck where it met your shoulder.

"Jamie..."

"Please, talk to me," he insisted, pulling you so you were facing him on the bed.

You wouldn't meet his eyes. You stared straight down at the bed sheets, tugging at a loose string. He pushed your chin up to meet his eyes. He saw the sparkle of unshed tears and it broke his heart.

"You could just- fuck- you could do so much better than me." You voice broke as you spoke. "And I know that you've dated models and athletes and, jesus, I'm fucking... I'm nothing."

"(Y/N), what are you-"

"I'm not skinny and fit, I sit in here all day waiting for motivation to do something worthwhile. And you're out there, being fantastic, and amazing, and everytime you leave I'm just waiting for you to realize that. Or meet someone else who's better and just... never come back."

Jamie genuinely felt speechless. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even looked at anyone else the way he looked at you. How could you... how did you not see.

"You think I'm going to leave you?" He really just needed to confirm.

"Jamie, don't make fun of me."

"No, no, no, I'm not, I'm just," he let out a laugh. "I just need to make sure I know what you're saying." You shrugged, wiping at your nose. "Oh, babe, c'mere."

He pulled you into his chest. You clung onto him, letting his arms pull you into his lap. He was so strong and solid. You rested your head on his chest as he pulled your legs across his thighs.

"I'm not leaving you, ever," Jamie whispered, resting his temple on your head. "I can't leave you." You closed your eyes, kissing his chest. "I love you so much. You're all I want. All I need. And if I need to say that to you everyday to remind you I will."

You held him tightered, your arms tight around his waist as he collected you and laid back against the leopard print headrest.

"Please believe me," he said so quietly. Like he was begging, pleading with you to feel the depth of his love for you. "Please."

You nodded minutely. And maybe you were just pleasing him. But from that moment on he'd make it his goal to make sure you knew just how much he loved you. Make sure that when he left, he'd always find his way back home.

[apathetic-revenant]

uh...hi?

[head pokes around corner]

so...

I've been back to scrolling around on tumblr for a bit now, and have been really wanting to get back to actually, y'know. being here. posting. not just sort of hanging here invisibly like a mournful ghost, observing but never interacting. that sort of thing. (revenants, after all, are supposed to be corporeal undead.)

but I really wanted to explain why I just kind of abruptly vanished in the first place. no one demanded this of me, but it felt like something I had to do. and then, in the typical way of self-imposed obstacles, it became a massive stumbling block. partly because of the nerves and emotions attached to it, sure, but mostly, tbh, because it was a Task. I recently (about 3 weeks ago now?) started seeing a new psychiatrist and got an adjustment to my ADHD meds which basically made my brain boot up again for the first time in way too long. this is great! but it means I am having to kind of slowly rehab my brain into getting used to doing Literally Anything again, one small step at a time. I am not being hyperbolic when I say I had to gradually build up my executive functioning for a while just to be able to write a tumblr post.

but fuck it! I really wanted to just do this already. so, while I'm sure I'll talk about all this in more detail later, for right now I'm gonna strip this down to the bare essentials just so I can get it done at all.

here's what happened:

in 2020 I had a sudden onset of extremely severe OCD.

no, not about the pandemic, actually. yeah I was anxious about the pandemic but it was a pretty normal level of anxiety for a global pandemic, honestly. my OCD took the form of scrupulosity--essentially, an obsessive worry about being a bad person.

tumblr is....not a GREAT place to be if you have a sudden obsessive fear of being a bad person.

now, to be clear: tumblr did not CAUSE my OCD, and leaving tumblr did not cure it. that's just not how OCD works. later on, I learned that atypical antipsychotics--one of which I had been prescribed around that time, for depression--have been known to cause OCD. is there any way to prove that that's what happened? probably not, at this point! so I've just been kind of sitting with that terrible knowledge for a while.

anyway. I would've had OCD anyway, but reading a regular stream of posts going "hey, here's a really terrible thing you might be doing! you might even be doing it without knowing it! you need to think really hard and be constantly vigilant all the time for any sign that you might be doing this thing!" was basically pouring gasoline on the fire.

I never made an active decision to leave tumblr--if I had I would've said something first. I just kind of thought "god, I can't do this right now" one day and didn't open the app, which turned into days and then weeks and then months, and still things weren't getting better.

it's hard to express exactly how harrowing that whole experience was. actually I just started thinking about it and realized I would never finish this post tonight if I tried to get into it just now. so I won't. let's just say: It Was Bad.

but, by an astronomical stroke of luck, I ended up getting referred to not just an OCD therapist, not just the only OCD therapist in the state who took Medicaid, but the only OCD therapist in the state who took Medicaid and also she was really good at her job. I genuinely think that woman saved my life.

OCD therapy is one of those "the only way out is through" kind of things. it's brutal and also quite surreal, but it has a high success rate and is very effective. OCD is not a thing that you can cure, per se, but it went from completely dominating every waking moment of my life to being something that I occasionally have to yell at in much the same way as when the cat starts knocking things off my desk at 3 in the morning.

but, the thing was, it took a year-and-a-bit before my therapist and I agreed that I had probably "graduated" as she put it. so, by the time I felt able to go back on tumblr without my brain catching on fire again, it had been so long that I didn't know how to do it. I felt like I'd pulled a major dick move by just dropping off without saying anything. I still thought about it (usually late at night, at Time To Think About Every Regret I've Ever Had O'Clock) but my brain very easily goes to a place of "well, no one would really notice or care that I was gone, and if they did they'd be mad at me for having left."

well. earlier this year I started on the road to getting past that idea. shoutout to @fordtato for helping with that, btw.

but it took me a while to work up the courage and then, as previously mentioned, even longer to work up the neurotransmitters.

I think I gotta wrap this up for now cause I don't have much concentration juice left. but, for what it's worth: I had a lot of emotions, coming back and seeing the names of people I used to talk to all the time. I don't know how you feel about me anymore, but I really missed yall. I would like to talk to you again.

[theragethatisdesire]

"l’amore è cieco" - eren x reader - 18+!!!

back to the ti penso universe!!! finally!! did you guys miss it? i know i did; i am utterly obsessed with these two. i've had this sitting in my unfinished wip pile for way too long not to share.

our lovebirds have gotten the wedding all wrapped up with, so we're a solid four years past them reuniting in italy....and surprise! they're expecting!!!!! i could literally scream just writing that; the grip dad!eren has on me will never let up, i fear......anyways, this one's a little rough because i've picked it apart a thousand times and i'm just tired of editing, so you guys enjoy!!! sorry if it's not quite up to par :/

pairing: eren x reader

wc: 4k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, reader is pregnant, use of names (baby, mama, pretty, beautiful, etc), swearing, vaginal sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, lactation kink, creampie, crying, tooth-rotting fluff

title means "love is blind" in italian, per tradition w this verse <3

-

Right on schedule with your new daily, depressing routine, you stand in front of the mirror running your hands over your body, examining the recent changes. On second thought, scrutinizing might be a better word.

You’re grateful your job has allowed you to work from home for your entire pregnancy, editing articles from the journalists who can actually travel while snuggled up on your couch, but the downside of it is that you’ve had far too much time to mull on all of the ways your body has stretched and warped to accommodate the growing little girl in your stomach. You thought pregnancy was supposed to be beautiful, and sometimes it is, but more often than not, you just feel like a swollen, hormonal mess.

You “popped”, as all the mommy podcasts say, about two weeks ago, and thin stretch marks have begun to appear on your stomach. Eren calls them your “tiger stripes”, having been in full-blown cringe dad mode since the day you took the test. Bizarre cravings control you at all hours of the day, evidenced by the little black crumbs you’re picking out of your sports bra, left behind by your fourteen-Oreo breakfast today. You gaze longingly at the jewelry box on your bathroom counter; you haven’t been able to wear your wedding band in weeks, the tan line already beginning to fade from your finger. Before you can get a hold of yourself, the hormones have you in their grip, and hot, frustrated tears are spilling down your cheeks.

“Babe, have you seen that tie with the red–” Eren materializes in the doorway with absolutely no warning, as he’s prone to do, but cuts himself off at the sight of you, “baby, no, again?”

“Don’t say it like that,” you say, reluctantly allowing him to take you in his arms.

“Like what?” Eren’s voice is sweet, but hesitant. He’s been living under the constant threat of getting his head bitten off for mundane reasons because of you. It makes you feel worse, makes you shove him away and glare at him accusingly.

“Like I’m always fucking crying.” You are always crying, but you wish he would at least muster up some semblance of surprise at finding you in tears yet again. You turn away from him, wiping your face in the mirror. “Shouldn’t you be packing? Your flight leaves in like, three hours.”

“I’ll cancel,” Eren coos, stepping behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, picking your belly up in his hands.

It’s some hack he got off Tik Tok, supposed to take the weight off of your back for a precious moment, and as much as you don’t necessarily want to be touched right now, it actually helps. You’ve been alternating between thinking Eren’s overenthusiastic parenting research is adorable and mind-numbingly annoying, but for the moment, your back has stopped aching for the first time all morning, and you sigh, leaning into him.

“You can’t cancel,” you murmur, momentarily soothed, “‘s a big client. Where is it again? France?”

“I just got back from France, Miss Pregnancy Brain,” Eren chuckles, quieting immediately upon catching your lethal gaze in the mirror. “It’s just over in LA, and honestly, I could have Hitch go if you need me.”

“No, I can take care of myself, it’s just like…” a fresh wave of tears spills down your cheeks, “fuck, I don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”

Eren nods into your shoulder, letting you sniffle. It’s not a new trait, your outright refusal to ask for help, but it’s been exacerbated by your pregnancy, especially considering exactly how much help you actually need now.

You’ve taken custody of all of his sweatpants, not yet able to bring yourself to buy maternity clothes. You’d walked in sobbing and humiliated the other day because you’d peed yourself on the long elevator ride up to your apartment in front of the neighbors. You can’t sleep on your stomach anymore; Eren has to prop himself up just right beside you and sandwich you between himself and a wall of pillows to stop you from turning. You know it hurts him seeing you miserable, and you try to suck it up and enjoy the positives of pregnancy as much as you can, but you can’t muster up that strength every day.

“Hush,” Eren pulls your wet face to his chest, letting you stain the Number 1 Dad! t-shirt he had bought himself. “I’m not going.”

“Eren–”

“I’m not,” he says firmly, rubbing small circles into the bottom of your spine, “you need me here, whether you want to admit it or not.”

You grumble complacently, nuzzling into him. You do need him, as much as you want to think you can tough it out on your own. Eren’s bought book after book, not just for the baby, but for you. Most nights you find him reading titles like You’ve Made the Baby…Now What? or How to Survive Pregnancy: A Guide for Men with his feet propped up on the coffee table, a habit that, despite your efforts, you cannot nag him out of. It’s cute, honestly, how over-the-top he’s gotten with baby prep, especially when you’re often too exhausted to wrap your mind around reading a parenting guide.

“I feel ugly,” you admit quietly, sticky and snotty against his shirt. “I feel disgusting.”

“What?” Eren’s reaction is one of genuine confusion. He pushes you away from him so he can search your face, waiting patiently for you to elaborate.

“I’m gaining an obscene amount of weight, my ankles are the size of my knees, I can’t wear a single one of my rings, what am I supposed to feel like?”

Eren frowns. “Those things are supposed to happen. I read last night–”

“I don’t care!” Your voice cracks under the weight of your frustration, and you press your fingers into your eyes hard enough to see stars, trying to regain control of your temper. “I don’t care that it’s supposed to happen. It still sucks.”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Eren sounds earnest, but you scoff at him anyway.

“We’re married. You’re supposed to say that.”

“I don’t have to.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “If you want your head to stay on your shoulders you do.”

Eren laughs at that, tugging you over to stand between his legs as he sits on the bed. “So, you’re serious? You genuinely don’t think you look good pregnant?”

“No,” you rub at your nose, “I don’t.”

Eren looks up at you, cupping your face gently. “I disagree.”

“Do you really?”

“I think you look better than ever.”

“That’s an insult to non-pregnant me,” you roll your eyes, moving to step away, but Eren holds you tight between his legs.

“It’s not,” he insists, “there’s just some things your pregnant body has that you didn’t necessarily have before. Some things that I like.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “Cankles?”

Eren chuckles breathily, shaking his head. “I adore your cankles, but they weren't exactly the first thing that came to mind. Take these, for one thing.”

Eren presses his nose into your sports bra, hands moving up underneath to palm at your swollen tits. You let out a breathy laugh as he explores, already feeling a low heat beginning to simmer in your core. That’s one perk of entering your second trimester; your hormones might turn on a dime, but your sex drive has skyrocketed.

Eren shoves your bra up to free your tits, groaning appreciatively as he takes a nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking. You watch as he feels his way around with his mouth, humming contentedly under your breath, when suddenly, his eyes fly open and he shoots away from you.

“What?”

Eren shushes you, bringing a hand to the breast that had been in his mouth and squeezing lightly. White liquid beads on your nipple, and you cover your face in shame.

“When did that start?”

“A few days ago,” you admit, trying to push his hands off of you, cheeks burning. Eren swats you away, leaning back into your nipple, sucking harder. You can feel a small stream of milk leaving you, relieving some of the pressure in your tits; a moan rumbles deep in Eren’s chest, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Eren releases your nipple with a loud pop and looks up at you panting, eyes blown wide.

“Is it weird that that’s kinda hot?”

“Probably.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” you hum, threading your hands through his hair and urging him back to your chest, “feels good.”

That’s all Eren needs to hear, diving back into your chest with renewed vigor. As he continues, you realize it doesn’t just feel good, it actually feels incredible. You’ve always had sensitive breasts, but with the pregnancy, sensation has increased tenfold; you can feel your panties getting wetter as the weight of your full breast decreases. When Eren’s gotten all he can from your left nipple, he moves to your right, replacing his mouth on the now-abandoned nipple with his hand to twist gently at the wet skin.

The combined sensation makes your knees buckle; Eren saves you smoothly by wrapping an arm around your lower back, yanking you to him to straddle his leg. It’s the perfect angle for you to roll your hips against his thigh slowly, feeling the much-needed friction of his sweatpants against your cunt.

“Eren…” you breathe out, voice nothing more than a wisp of air.

“I know baby,” Eren speaks directly into your flesh, not willing to back away for even a moment, “feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Feels so good,” you whimper, clutching him to you with fistfuls of his hair.

“Told you this new body’s not so bad, hm?” Eren closes his teeth down on your nipple lightly; you almost keel over from the shockwave it sends through you.

You nod, rubbing yourself against his thigh faster. It’s awkward and cumbersome with your belly in the way, but it’s enough for now, enough to light your nerves on fire in that way that only Eren’s ever been able to.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” Eren mutters, grabbing onto your hips to help you get your rhythm right, “you’re so perfect, and you don’t even see it.”

Your fingers dig into his arms as you moan. “But my stomach–”

“But nothing,” Eren kisses you, mumbling into your mouth, “love your stomach, love your tits, love all of it. You think it doesn’t make me so fucking hard, watching you walk around with that big belly and knowing what it came from? I did that. We did that, didn’t we baby?”

“Mhm,” you bite into his shoulder, the friction on your clit through your sweatpants is getting to your head, making you dizzy. “Eren, Eren–”

“Sh sh sh,” Eren shushes you, moving so that he can look you in the eyes, “what do you need? Tell me.”

“I don’t– I don’t know, I just…” you can’t find the words, so in need of him that you can’t even decide what sounds best. His mouth? His fingers? All of it?

“Okay, okay,” Eren says quietly, standing you both up only to lay you against the pillows, “I’ve gotcha.”

He nudges his sweatpants down your legs, bringing your panties with them, spreads your legs so he can see the most intimate part of you. Eren brings his hand to your clit, rubbing tentatively, but you’re so desperate for him that it’s enough to make your back arch, a long, throaty moan ripping out of you. He lays beside you, gently playing with your clit and watching in awe at the reaction you give him, already a blubbering mess after only a few minutes.

“So sensitive, aren’t you mama?”

“Yes,” you hiss out through clenched teeth, a fresh wave of arousal flooding you at the name, “s-so sensitive. Need to cum, I need, n-need–”

“I’ll make you cum,” Eren promises, sinking a finger into you, “I’ll make you cum, baby.”

“Fuck, Eren, it’s– I can’t–”

“Feel good?”

“So fucking good,” you’re basically sobbing at this point, fingers clenched into the muscles of his bicep, clinging to him and humping his hand. You’re not sure if it’s the lack of sex over the first trimester (“What if I hit the baby’s head?” Eren had asked nervously whenever you approached him) or the rawness of the sensation against your over-sensitive body, but you’ve never been so close to your orgasm so quickly.

You don’t hold out long; Eren’s skilled with even just one finger, and before long, you’re crying out his name, gushing all over his hand. Eren presses his lips to your forehead in a sweet kiss despite having utterly destroyed you less than thirty seconds ago.

“Ready for me?”

“Sit,” you pant, pointing to the massive stack of pillows against your headboard. Eren raises his eyebrows in surprise, but does as he’s told, only pausing to pull his clothes off. The loss of the stupid dad t-shirt is a relief as much as feeling his bare chest under your hands. Due to your hormones, you’ve thrown Eren out of the house several times, and you’ve demanded to be alone enough to where his only solution is to go to the gym downstairs and work out until you’ve calmed down. It shows: his chest has grown broader and stronger, and the veins on his arms are nearly popping through the skin. “You look good.”

“Yeah?” Eren offers a shit-eating grin, flexing his bicep ever so subtly. “You should see yourself.”

“You seriously think I look good like this?” You’re straddling his hips now, rubbing your clit on his bare cock. It’s a lewd sight, his cock drooling on his abs, glistening with your cum; your cunt clenches around nothing, more than ready to be filled.

“Mhm, you look so fucking good like that,” Eren grunts, hands finding your hips again and lifting you up to sink you down on his cock, both of you letting out loud, satisfied groans, “but you look much better like this.”

You grind your hips against his, not possessing the energy to bounce your now-heavier body, but it makes you see stars. Eren rarely lets you ride him, much preferring to bend you over or pin you to the bed himself, but with your bump, you now have an excuse to hop on top of him whenever you like. It’s been close to a decade of fucking him, but the full stretch of him never fails to shock you, the way he pushes into you until you’re positive he’s in your stomach. With Eren sitting up, his cock stays firmly nestled against your g-spot, pushing little bits of squirt out of you with each movement of your hips.

“Eren–” you whimper, holding your breasts as you rock into him.

“Shit- you’re so tight like this,” Eren says through his clenched jaw, throwing his head back against the headboard, “why don’t you ride me more often?”

“You don’t let me,” you say with a watery giggle.

“Stupid,” Eren gasps, “‘m so fucking stupid.”

You’re too fucked out to voice your agreement, opting for sliding a hand down your body to flick at your clit. You can’t quite reach it around your bump, though, a discontented noise leaving your lips. Eren opens his eyes, takes notice of the way you’re hunching your back, and swats your hand away.

“I got it, I got it,” he pants, tucking his hand underneath your swollen belly to rub your clit just the way he knows you like it.

“Oh, f-fuck,” you choke out, throwing your head back.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” you hiss, “‘s perfect.”

“Take what you need, mama,” Eren’s watching you intently, a glimmer of admiration in his eye, “take what you need.”

You’re moaning pitifully, loud and wanton as Eren’s cock moves inside of you. Your cunt tightens around him desperately as the bubble building in your stomach threatens to explode.

“Think you get wetter like this, all swollen with my baby,” Eren muses, leaning forward to latch his mouth around one of your nipples where more milk has already started to pool. His words have a visceral reaction on you; you cry, tears welling in your eyes as you spiral towards your release. 

“I think–I think I’m gonna– oh fuck, don’t stop,” you croon, rocking your hips as fast as you can manage. Eren mumbles around your nipple, something about how beautiful you look, and you come undone around him, grinding your hips hard against his and cradling him to your chest. He might have a point- there’s damn near a puddle of your arousal at the base of where you’re connected, slicking up the skin on his hips and the inside of your thighs.

“Better?” Eren pulls you in for a kiss; you can feel him grinning through it.

“Maybe a little,” you admit, laughing light and watery against his mouth.

“Mmm,” Eren hums, grabbing you by the hips and lifting you only to drop you down again and turn your laughter to a quiet whimper, “not good enough. Need you to be much better.”

“Fuck me, then,” you nip at his bottom lip, earn yourself a deep groan.

“Can you— can you hold yourself up like this?” Eren scooches both of you down, albeit, a little awkwardly, so that he can lay flat on the bed. He moves you up until you’ve only got him halfway inside of you, cocking a questioning eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, I–I think so.”

“And you’re sure I’m not going to hurt–”

“Jesus Christ– no Eren, it’s fine, just– fuck,” he cuts you off with a sharp snap of his hips up into yours, grinning menacingly when your eyes roll back.

“Like that?”

“Just like that,” you moan, annoyance wiped from you with one clean stroke. Eren takes that for the green light that it is and starts pistoning his hips up into you, swearing under his breath. Even though he’d instructed you to hold yourself up, he makes good use of his new muscles, suspending you at the perfect height to feel every inch of him as he fucks up into you like his life depends on it.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like this,” Eren growls, “all swollen with my fuckin’ baby. Gonna keep you like this, give you as many as you want.”

“Eren–” you choke out, suffocating on the way he’s fucking you, his words, him. For the first time in months, you feel amazing, holding your chest and groaning long and loud as Eren thrusts up into you.

“Baby, I’m- fuck, not gonna–” Eren cuts himself off with something that sounds suspiciously close to a whimper, throwing his head back.

“Cum in me,” you pant, nodding urgently at him, “want it so bad.”

“Oh fuck,” Eren groans, hips moving impossibly faster. His fingers are digging into your hips near to the point of pain, and that little frown he makes when he’s about to cum is crumpling his face. You do want it, badly.

“Please Eren, I need it,” you gasp, legs trembling on either side of his hips.

“Fucking love you, love you so much,” Eren slurs, hips stuttering. With a long, throaty moan, he slams you down one final time, cumming deep inside of you. You grind against him as he does, moaning along with him at the familiar warmth in your belly. Exhausted, you momentarily forget about your bump and try to collapse facefirst on him- that’s enough to snap Eren out of his post-orgasm haze.

“Whoa, whoa,” Eren shoves you back upright, lifting you under your shoulders and laying you on your back, “careful.”

You wince. “Shit, sorry. Sometimes I forget. It’s still sort of new.”

“I know,” Eren agrees, eyes locked lovingly on your baby bump, “love it, though.”

“Really?”

Eren cocks a disbelieving eyebrow at you. “If that didn’t convince you, I don’t know what will.”

You giggle at that; he’s always been good at this, cheering you up and diffusing your worries like it’s second nature. After ten years, it probably is at this point.

“I don’t mean to be so down on myself, really,” you sigh, tracing a finger over where his hand’s splayed on your stomach, “it’s just…so much harder than I thought it would be.”

Eren nods thoughtfully. “That’s reasonable. But you’re so good at it.”

“I haven’t even– what?” The insecurities that you’ve been successfully masking under good natured teasing and occasional annoyance come slipping from between your lips. You’ve thought it for weeks; how Eren’s so into all the baby stuff, so enthusiastic about learning everything he can, while all you’ve managed is trying not to gag when he cooks eggs in the morning and picking out some onesies. “What about all of your books and your podcasts and crap? You’re the one doing everything.”

“That’s all I can do,” Eren scoffs, “you’re doing all the hard stuff, like carrying the baby around and puking every morning and crying all the time–”

“Hey!”

“I’m serious,” Eren shushes you, “you’re putting in all the legwork. I mean, you’re literally growing our baby. You’re a fucking rockstar mom already. If anyone’s not doing enough here, it’s me.”

That’s one thing about Eren that will never get easier; his deep, unwavering admiration for you, no matter what you’re doing. Sure, it’s endearing when Eren spins you around in his arms for something as simple as finally getting that croissant recipe to come out well, but when he’s praising you for something that’s actually difficult? It’s sweet enough to give you a cavity, warm your heart, and turn your cheeks pink all at once, even after all this time.

“Well, if you’d like to take a shift carrying her around, be my guest. She’s a chunky little thing already,” you roll your eyes, tucking your face into Eren’s ribs to mask the flush rising to your face.

“I’d do it for you if I could,” Eren sighs in faux-thoughtfulness, “but I wouldn’t look half as hot.”

You giggle furiously when he lands a slap to your ass, swatting at his chest. “God, it still doesn’t feel real, does it? A little girl that’s half you, half me.”

“It does and it doesn’t,” Eren shrugs, bringing a hand back to your stomach, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thinking about it since Italy.”

You gape at him. “That long?”

“You know I’m always ahead of you on this stuff,” Eren teases, squeezing your cheeks together, “knew I wanted you first, knew I wanted you back first, knew we should get married…”

“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes at his bragging, “it’s just, like…are we ready? To do this?”

“This?” Eren cocks his head.

“The whole…‘parents’ thing.”

“Putting aside the fact that you're way too late to be having those kinds of thoughts,” Eren says, rubbing your lower back, “of course we’re ready. There’s no perfect parents, but I believe in us– believe in you. Gonna be the best mama any baby’s ever had, I know you will.”

“I don’t even…oh, Eren.” You’re tearing up again–damn hormones. Eren wipes at your tears, planting a big kiss on your forehead.

“I mean it. You’re going to be great, already are,” he says, smiling down at you. He holds you just like that for a few moments, letting you nuzzle into his chest, until his little grin grows wicked. “Although…the only thing I can say I am worried about is which one of us is going to accidentally teach her her first swear word. Should we bet on it?"

Even through your tears, you cock an eyebrow at him. “You and I both know that’s going to be Jean. Especially after what you taught Clara the last time we babysat.”

Eren barks out a laugh. “Hey, hearing her call Jean ‘Daddy Jackass’ was funny, and you know it!”

“Thanks for reminding me,” you smirk, “now I know what I’m teaching our little girl first.”

“No way!”

[soulwrencher]

oh god, can you make my heart stop?

pairing: college!au ellie x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol, uh soft ellie? lowkey nsfw, not really proof read sorry

word count: 1,8k

summary: ellie isn't a huge party fan but ever since you failed your only mutual class she hoped to see you again, and she does. or; ellie is lowkey awkward but you make out in the middle of a kitchen during a house party.

another friday night, another four walls you're not familiar with. ever since you failed this one class, you've been escalating a bit and suddenly you find yourself at every house party there is, but this is just temporary, to 'calm down'.

and for once, the music roaring from the speakers is actually good. although, when did it get so full? earlier, you could comfortably navigate your way through the living room all the way to the hallway, but all you see is bodies and red cups at this point.

so, the genius idea that the kitchen must be a little emptier comes to your mind.

you make your way to the kitchen, squeezing yourself through all the sweaty bodies until you can finally make out a room that looks like a kitchen.

relieved, you lean against the kitchen island.

"guys what the fuck, i'm not your barkeeper, i've been making drinks for 15 minutes now," a voice emerges from right behind you, how can someone speak so loudly over the booming speakers? you turn around, and,

oh.

that is ellie williams. the ellie williams you had literature with, which you failed horrendously. but it's too late to turn around now, she recognises you and a smile creeps up on her face.

"oh? i know you! haven't seen you in a while!" she yells, waving with the red cup in her hand. shit shit shit, not only did you fail the class, ellie knows too, and the worst: you will never see her again. you won't lie, yes, maybe you did have a crush on her but please, who didn't? it's not that big of a deal. and she probably knows that too. well, now you do care. what if she knows that you actually have been watching her this whole—

"hey? ignoring me? that's a little harsh," ellie shouts, her eyebrows rising in disappointment. why does she look so good? maybe you've had too much to drink, but you can't help but observe her.

white, unbuttoned shirt, black tank top.

sleeves rolled up, the tattoo on her right forearm on full sight. her hands are so veiny and big, you're relieved that no one can read your mind.

"no, sorry, just bummed about failing class, you know," you chuckle in self pity. damn, this is depressing.

"can't hear you, come here," she yells, her eyes squinting in order to hear you better, interesting. wait, did she just ask you to come closer? no, you can't, you probably smell like alcohol, you're super sweaty and why is the overhead light on? you will look so unflattering and—

ellie's standing right in front of you. now this was unexpected, you want to take a step back, but you're already leaned against the island. dead end, pretty much. you didn't expect her to be the same height as you, which makes you chuckle.

"laughing at me too now, huh?" you can hear her clearly now, all you can focus on is the way her lips move while she speaks.

"sorry, think i had too much, but how is, uh, uni treating you? doing well?" you ask, never have you ever thought so hard about what to ask during small talk. you see ellie's shoulders shaking, she's laughing. what's so funny? you pout, then realise you're standing in front of ellie williams, that probably looked really silly.

"okay, i see. small talk it is then," she chuckles, her head slightly tilted to the right, studying your face.

"what do you mean?" you ask, because quite frankly, what does she mean? small talk then? what kind of answer is that?

"don't mind me, i'm just the barkeeper," ellie says. god, she's awkward.

in your imagination, she was more cocky but now you can't decide if imagination or reality is better.

but what you don't know is, that ellie has been watching you the same way you've been watching her. the first time you entered class, ellie couldn't take her eyes off of you. you were totally her type and to her luck, you decided to sit right in front of her. she couldn't even concentrate, all she did was observe the nape of your neck and your side profile, well to specific your soft, plump lips. it was disheartening to hear that you failed class and that she wouldn't see you again, so unlike her usual self, ellie decided to go to a house party and forget about you. but here you are and you look way too good for her not to try and shoot her shot.

"can i make you a drink?" she asks, but all you see are her veiny hands.

"i thought you hated playing barkeeper?" you shoot back, is ellie flirting with you? you're confused, however you're liking where this is going.

"for a pretty woman like you, i don't mind," ellie chuckles while her hand briefly brushes against yours. you raise your eyebrow in suspicion, but ellie shakes her head, she'd never put something disgusting in your drink, not yet. ellie makes her way back to her friends, earning dirty looks from them.

"you suck, i'm losing millions of bets because of you," one of them says, but ellie returns only a smile. she finds some vodka and ginger beer, but moscow mule sucks without lime juice. you watch her open the cabinets, looking for something, her arms reaching for the top. they are really toned, you never noticed before. finally, she stops and you watch her hold something round and green in her hands. she cuts it in half, a lime you assume, you have perfect view on whatever she's doing. inappropriate isn't enough to describe what you're thinking and feeling while watching ellie squeeze the juice out of the lime, her fingers entangled in hot mess.

your whole body follows her as she comes back to you, your chest facing her again. ellie holds the cup up to her face, with her index finger on the rim of the cup.

"i spilled some lime juice right here," she taps her finger against the cup while she grins in anticipation. you cross your arms, tilt your head and raise your eyebrow in confusion.

"well, both of my hands are full—" she places her right hand on your left arm, her thumb stroking you gently.

"and you could help me out," ellie continues, her eyes fixated on your lips. suddenly, everything starts to spin around you, you feel the bass through your whole body, you see ellie's chest move up and down, her breath slowing down, slow and steady. anything you do now is a consequence of you drinking too much, you tell yourself. your right hand reaches out for her sleeve, you pull yourself closer to the raised cup, there where ellie's sticky finger rests. she looks you up and down and her gaze is so intense, you can feel your lower body throbbing. realising that makes you blush, you want to look away but you suddenly feel one of ellie's big, rough hand run your body down, leaving goosebumps everywhere. not once did she look away, her eyes still fixated on you, watching your every move. her hand stops right above your hip, pulling you closer. you look back up, move your head closer to the cup that hides ellie's neck, until you're lips are close enough to touch her fingers.

"return the favor?" ellie whispers, her grip tightening around your hips. you gently press your lips against her finger and use a little bit of your tongue, making sure it's completely clean, of course.

"tastes good, lime juice," you chuckle while you lick the lime juice mixed with saliva on your lips. watching you lick her fingers, then your own lips, ellie can't hold back anymore. she wants to know what it feels like to be kissing you, what you taste like. holding you close to her isn't enough anymore, her thoughts run wild. what does your skin feel like? how many clothes does she need to take off to get on your skin? you observe her put the cup on the counter and feel her hand leave your body as she runs it through her hair. you're surprised that you're disappointed that her hand isn't on you anymore, but before that disappointment could settle in, you feel both of them on your waist, pulling you closer than ever.

"if it's good, mind letting me have a taste?" you're even more astonished to see ellie's face turn a bright shade of red, you expected her to be a natural flirt, but she is much cuter this way. with your arms around her neck and hers around your waist, you could swear that heaven must feel just like this very moment. you nod and can't believe she waited for you to give consent, god, she is just adorable. her hands move up to your neck, cupping your face gently, the last thing you see is her smiling before you get a taste of her wet lips. ever since ellie saw you she couldn't stop fantasising about kissing you, she'd wanted your lips on hers for months and she makes sure you feel it.

your heart skips a beat or two, breath shortening, your hands suddenly in her hair. god this is messy. all you can feel is her body grinding up against yours as the bass roars from the speakers and pounds right through you. she slips her tongue in while you breathe in her intoxicating scent. burying your fingers in her hair isn't enough, you need more, and all of a sudden, ellie pushes her pelvis against yours, you inhale sharply. your lips were separated only for a few moments before she pulls you close again, devouring you. never has anyone kissed you as hungry and sloppy as she did and you felt so incredibly weak. and ellie realises that it's too late to stop, she doesn't want to, she wants her hands all over you, she wants you all to herself. She tugs your bottom lip in between hers and grins.

pounding bass, pounding heart, pounding pulse. her lips trail down to your neck, she breathes hot air on you. you roll your eyes back, biting down all sorts of noises you'd love to make at the touch of her lips. rough hands, she gently holds you by your hair and pulls your head to the side. chest to chest, you feel each other's palpitating heart while the throbbing in between your legs has made itself apparent. ellie glances down, there where you need her the most and she chuckles. You shoot her a glare; apologetic eyes return as an answer.

"you wanna take this like, somewhere else?" ellie whispers, her wet lips brushing against your ear. god, she's such a tease. you nod and she plants one more kiss on your lips, takes your hand and leads you through the crowded rooms, dancing bodies brushing against yours, but none of them feel like ellie's. her touch has left you lingering for more and ellie can't wait much longer to have her hands on you again.

a/n: wrote this omw to uni bc there's this one class that has mandatory attendance and i missed twice already,,, third time's not a charm. also this is inspired by 'bellakeo' peso pluma.

[peachesfather]

So here's the thing, I've been picturing Mizu (blue eye samurai) in a party, maybe an elegant party, wearing a suit staring at fem reader all night and reader noticing her. I just want Mizu to be seduced by reader with it ending in a subjective situation. If you could do that I would be grateful. Thanks!

- thanks for this request!!

UnMask Beauty ❦

Mizu x black fem! reader

Warning:+18, in a public bathroom, sloppy kisses, and pussy eating(reader receives) not proofread !!

Author note ౨ৎ

- please note this is a short blurb that will end with bang of porn filth, I quite tired and the asks that ppl be sending me are great n all but idk if I could write it in a one day, anyways thanks for enjoying my works.

While everyone else was dancing with their partners, I was sipping a glass of wine at a table by myself. Seeing everyone with their partners made me feel like I wasn't really enjoying my night at the moment. I had a dull expression on my face and continued tapping the wine glass.

Everyone gathered into a slow dance with their lovers when the slow jams began to play. I started to get really depressed and my eyes started to water, but then I saw this fine ass woman arrive at the ball party wearing a sharp black suit and perfectly fitting black pants. I couldn't contain my drool; I really wanted to dance with her, but I was too afraid to ask her.

I stared at her until she turned to face me and smiled, causing me to become weak at the knees. Her smile increased my desire for her.

She walked her way towards my table and i was hiding my face from the rise of embarrassment from being caught staring too hard, she looked at me with her blue eyes.

She approached my table, and as I covered my face to avoid looking out of place when I was caught staring too deeply, her blue eyes met mine.

"Would you like to dance? "It seems like you need it because you look so beautiful tonight," she said, gesturing for me to take her hand. I did so, and we held hands as the warmth of the dance floor filled the room.

she was searching for someone while she was holding my wrist while we were dancing i was such a nervous mess that i closed my eyes in the process, I smiled as I opened my eyes and she danced, she stopped what she was doing to embrace me. She tilts closer and plants a kiss on my lips, making me feel dizzy. I press her cheek and we swirl our tongues in our mouths, allowing her to prove her dominance, which makes me whimper beneath her.

She grins and reaches for my ass through my silk dress as I moan in her shoulder, praying that no one hears me. She then whispers, "I want to fuck you so badly right now," which causes my cheeks to slightly burn.

I boldly responded to the question, "Can you even handle all of me?" She pulled me into the bathroom stall by holding my hand, closed the door, and aggressively grabbed my wrist to make me turn around. She kissed my neck and then my lips, leaving me feeling wetter than before. I spread one of my legs while she holds me for her to have access to my clothed cunt.(my pum pum)

She grabs my neck to look into her lustful blue eyes while placing her fingers on my clothed pantie and pulling it to the side,She then dropped to her knees in the bathroom stall, wedged between my legs. She touched my clit and immediately began to lick my cunt at a rapid pace. i desperately moaned and grabbed a fist of her long hair while she kept face down onto my cunt.

She pauses in the middle and looks directly into my eyes while grinning through my clit. "missing my touch already, fucking brat" she said while pressing her thumb onto my cunt.

Although I can't deny that I wanted more of her, I was ashamed of how much of a mess I looked beneath her. She smacks one of my thighs, showing a dull expression that shows how unsatisfied she is right now with me.

I closed my eyes and whispered, "Touch me." She asked me what I wanted, rolling her eyes and grabbing my cheeks to look in her direction. "say that again with your property words" she said and i gulped and shyly guided her hand to my cunt.

“Please use your tongue on me, baby..” I murmured in a desperate tone, and that got her attention. She smirked and pressed her lips back on my cunt, while she looking up at me.

She stare up at me while latching onto my pussy, My cunt's drenching sounds fill the restroom stall as she pleases me, getting wetter with each lick.

She began slurring up my clit's fluids, causing you to squirm. You clenched around her tougue, causing your thighs to tremble with the close to orgasm."mmmm..fuck imma cum just like that.."

"i got you, please make that pussy come for me"She said as she gripped my thighs, pushed more against my heated cunt, and sucked me through my orgasm. I closed my eyes, came onto her mouth, and breathed slowly.

We exchanged a nervous glance and giggled at our current situation as I opened my eyes and stood up. I said in a mocking tone, putting my pantie back on my body, "Maybe you did know how to handle me, but whatever."

"This is the beginning, I can show you more what I am capable of other than my tongue," she smirked cockily and held out her hand with a card that has her name.

Imma think about that..Ms.Mizu??

She grabbed my wrist, kissed me sloppy but gently, and said, "You be calling that name everyday." She hurried out of the bathroom.