#anyway....FUCK glossy paper

[swinging-from-my-cable]

I guess I have to actually go to a physical store to find fucking luster paper. Everything at B&H is just too expensive, I'm not an actual pro. Trying through Amazon is a nightmare. I want a luster (or at least a semi-gloss, yes they feel different to me), not the cheap-ass glossy crap.

Sorry that I took a single photo class, so now I have just enough knowledge to be an ass with minimal actual knowledge.

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: WELCOME TO YOUR WORLD: How the Built Environment Shapes Our Lives by Sarah Williams Goldhagen.

[miioouu]

Ghost's New Neighbour pt2

I wasn’t planning on making a second part of this, but since you all like it and asked for it, here we go, i guess. Tw: Smut, Oral (male receiving), no gender used for reader (but a little feminine?), mean Ghost (sorry, i tried many times to write a sweet simon fic but i just can’t!!) Wc: 842 

“Come over later, 8:30 pm sharp, I don't appreciate tardiness” His words ring in your ears, distracting you from your tasks. How are you supposed to focus on putting your plates away when you can still feel the ghost of his lips against your skin? 

You know it’s a bad idea; first of all, he’s your neighbour, it’ll be awkward later on, you’ll definitely regret it, and what if the word comes out; do you really want to be known as the building’s resident slut? Second of all, he’s a stranger, you don’t know anything about him. Even the doorbell doesn’t have his name on it, paper white without even an initial or anything to give you a clue about this mysterious man. You’ll regret it, you definitely will. 

So why are you smoothing down your clothes? Rechecking your lipstick for the nth time? Why are your fingers hovering above this damn ringer, throwing all morals away?

It’s 8:30 sharp when the ding echoes in his rather empty apartment; he chuckles, part of him certain that you’d come over, the other held hope that you’d be a little wiser than this, a little more modest than this; but you weren’t, of course not, else you wouldn’t have let you touch him like he did in the elevator, wouldn��t have shivered when his words tickled your ear, wouldn’t have gotten wet at the feather-like brushing of his cock against your ass. No dignity, he thinks as he lazily makes his way over to open the door for you, internally laughing at the sight of you making yourself all pretty for him, what a nice shade of lipstick. 

He liked it so much, that pinkish tone that made you look a little more glowy, a little more flushed, not that you needed that enhanced. He liked it so much on your lips, and even more when it left a mark around his shaft. Honestly you don’t remember how you got here; one moment you were shuffling in his doorway, struggling to greet him without stuttering, the next you were in the middle of his living room, on your knees, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth languidly. His hands find your hair, guiding you back and forth around his length, setting a slow pace at first, wanting to relish in the feeling of your warm mouth, the tightness of your throat constricting as you gag whenever he pushes a little too deep. 

But Simon was never a patient man, sure he learned how to dismiss his frustration on the field, learned how to manipulate himself into being more forbearing, but he will not use those tricks now, not when he has bright, glossy eyes looking at him, begging him to use their mouth. Who was he to deny them anyway? He thought about warning you, but where’s the fun in that, right? In a swift motion, he pulls you closer until your nose nuzzles against his pelvic, his pubes tickling you but you don’t have time to adjust because he’s already pistoning his cock in and out your warm cave. He lets out a groan, his head falls back as he feels your nails dig in his thighs, holding onto him like a lifeline, creating bloody crescents on his skin, just some other scars to add to his collection. 

The once always empty, always eerily silent apartment, now feels suffocating, loud with groans and hisses from the tall man, mixed with your gagging echoing through the room. “Slut” that whispered word is what broke the chaotic symphony. Your pride is telling you to pull away, glare at him and defend your honor, but you can’t do that; not with his hands clutching at your hair and keeping you in place as he fucks your mouth, not when your thighs are pressing together, imagining, knowing, just how soaked the pretty panties you were wearing became.  

You can feel him getting closer to the edge with the way his thrusts became messier and more erratic, with the way his grip on your hair keeps tightening and getting loose over and over again, with the way his eyes are fluttering, cheeks are getting redder and his chest is heaving, letting out mumbled curses under his breath. “Fuck…come on make me cum, pretty girl” The demand alone made your thighs clench, a whimper escaped you, vibrating around him and sending goosebumps all over his body “Fuckin’ slut” he groans, accent heavy, as he finally stills, reaching deep as he releases ropes of hot, sticky liquid, painting your throat white. 

You’d think this was only the beginning, the way his hand loosens around your hair, massaging your scalp where he was pulling too hard, making you melt and whimper, heart skipping a beat at his gentleness, only to be broken the moment he pushes you back, adjusting his sweatpants properly before turning away. “Tomorrow at the same time, don’t be late. Now leave my house, it’s not the place for a desperate whore like you.”

Tag List: @blkmtllvr @curtaindiver4000 @moozinomoto

[scarletlizzard]

Her Favorite Drug

Pairings: wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: drug use (marijuana), smoking, smut, cunnilingus, fingering, stap on use (R receiving), fluff because I tortued yall with my last story

Summary: Your girlfriend is a stoner. One night, you decide you finally want to try some.

Masterlist

A/N: This is just smut oops. Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think. Also, the pics with the backward hats kills me every fucking time. Anyways, have fun 💚

Wandas delicate fingers expertly pack in the unfamiliar green into a brown wrapper. You watch closely, feeling her breath on the back of your neck and tickling your ear as she speaks.

"See detka? Then I'll just roll it up like this.." Her voice is soft as she speaks. You nod, eyes stuck on her fingers as they begin to roll the paper.

You were currently sitting in Wandas lap, her arms working in front of you to wrap another joint. In the year you had been dating, this was the first time you were going to join in on your girlfriends favorite recreational hobby. It was no secret that Wanda smoked weed, almost every night to be exact. You had never really been interested in smoking it, but you loved to watch her enjoy it.

Tonight was different. Tonight, you finally wanted to know how it felt. Wanda was surprised at first when you asked, but she was more than happy to pull you into her lap and show you how she does it.

"Lick along here for me," she says, drawing a line on the wrapper. You lean forward away from the warmth of Wandas chest to follow her instructions. "Perfect, baby!" Wanda praises, fiddling with the joint for only a moment before holding it out in her hand to show you the final product.

"Now it's ready?" You ask her, turning sideways on her lap. Your back rests against the arm of the couch, and your legs lay across her thighs.

Wanda nods, a grin on her face, "It's ready. I'll go first, you watch me, okay?"

You had planned on it. Wanda couldn't be more sexy when she smoked. You watch her bring the joint to rest between her lips, the other hand holding a lighter to the end of it. It catches easily, and Wanda inhales deeply before removing it from her lips and blowing out smoke. You press your thighs together tightly, Wanda always had that effect on you.

"You ready, baby?" She asks with a smirk, resting her hand to rub small circles on your leg. You nod slowly, reaching out your hand. "Just take a small one at first.." Wandas voice is husky from the smoke, only making you squeeze your legs tighter.

You begin to smell the familiar scent of the weed as smoke fills the air between the two of you. Here you go.. you take the drug between your lips as Wanda did, breathing it in. It's smoother than you thought as you inhale, but the burn in your lungs was unexpected. Wanda quickly takes the joint out of your hand as your eyes widen, and you let out the smoke with a set of coughs.

"Fuck.." You mumble out between coughs. Wanda chuckles and reaches for a water bottle, handing it to you. She watches with dark eyes as you sip the water, smoking the joint with no problem.

"Burns, huh?" She smiles and rubs your back soothingly as you nod at her, still drinking the water.

After a few moments and the burning resides, you take another hit. You feel your tensions disappear. Another one, and you feel an overwhelming rush to your head, not in a bad way. Then another, and so on until you and Wanda are finished with the joint. Your senses feel heightened.

You finish off the water as Wanda sets what remains of the joint in an ash tray. She smiles at you with red, squinting eyes, "Come here, baby." She chuckles and maneuvers you, so you're straddling her lap. "How do you feel?" She whispers, staring into your red and glossy eyes.

You giggle at her sentence, for some reason finding it funny. The lighting in the room was dark. Only a few string lights lit above the wall shone brightly against the side of Wandas face. There was a cloudy haze above the couch and in your mind. You felt...

"Like I'm floating," you giggle more, causing Wanda to chuckle. Her fingertips run along the hem of your shirt, sneaking under the back of it. They make their way slowly up and down your spine, the feeling practically euphoric in the state you were in.

"Feels good, huh detka?" Wanda mumbles as she plants soft kisses on your neck. So, so soft.. is all you could think. Your eyes close at the sensations. You nod, and you know it's too slow. Wanda lifts her head to look at you, and you take advantage by holding her face in your hands.

"So good, Wands.." Your thumbs rub over her cheeks as your eyes take in her features. You swallow hard, looking at her red lips and thinking of the way they kiss you softly. Your eyes travel down to her sharp jaw, your fingers tracing each feature you spot. "You're so pretty," you whisper with a giggle.

She laughs.

God, her laugh..

Your thoughts are slow as you look down to a freckle on her neck. Christ, you want to kiss it.

So you do. You lean forward and press your lips to her neck, feeling how warm her skin is under your kiss. Wanda lets out a low hum in response, so you kiss it again. Her nails scratch softly down your back, so you bite down on the skin and suck gently.

"Detka..." Her head lulls to the side, giving you more space. The thick accent in her voice only makes the ache for her stronger. "Baby," Wanda groans as your lips work their way down her neck. Her hands move down to your waist, "Move against me," she moans out, gripping your hips.

You rock back and forth in her lap, letting out a moan at the pleasure of the small amount of friction. As soon as your lips leave Wandas neck she's pulling off your shirt, along with her own. Among the haze you feel her breasts press against yours, and she leans forward to kiss you.

The kiss is unlike any you had before with her. It truly felt magical. You still felt like you were floating, and you could feel every inch of her skin on yours. "Need you.." You whimper in between kisses, still grinding yourself down against her lap. Wanda only moans in response. She continues to kiss you as she stands, still holding you. Your legs wrap around her waist.

The walk to her bedroom is short, and you don't even realize it until she's lying you down on the edge of the bed. The only thing you can think of is the way her lips fit perfectly against yours. You whine when she pulls away, frowning as you see her red and puffy lips that you still wanted to be touching your own.

"Now, now, detka.." She says, sliding down your pants. Bare for her to see, Wanda shakes her head as she gets down on her knees in front of the bed. "Fuck.. you're always so pretty for me." She mumbles in between wet kisses on your inner thighs. Your head was spinning between the lust and the weed, your body was begging for her touch.

Her hands move to hold your thighs open, gripping down tightly on the soft skin. "God, I can't wait to taste you," Wanda groans. You feel her lips attach to you clit, kissing it gently. Looking down you see green eyes peering up at you, a wicked grin on her face as she takes one long lick up your slit.

"Wanda, please.." You moan out, bucking your hips towards her. Your hands grip the sheets, and she can no longer hold back. Wandas mouth attaches to your wet pussy, her experienced tongue sending you into a frenzy.

"Mmm.." She moans against you, sending vibrations onto your clit. "You taste so good baby, just like always.." Wanda moans again, sucking softly on your clit. "Always so fucking good.."

"Ohh god, Wands.." You moan out, barely able to watch as she continues to move her tongue sinfully. Suddenly, you feel two slender fingers at your entrance, pushing in easily with how turned on you were. "Oh, fuck!" You whine out as she begins to pump her fingers inside of you, her lips sucking on your clit. Wanda can't help her own moans as you call out her name.

"That's it, babygirl.. just like that.." Her lips smack as she removes them from your clit, glistening in the dim lighting with your juices. You stare at her with red eyes as she kisses her way up your body.

"Baby I'm gonna cum, please," you moan.

"Cum for me then, detka." Wanda coaxes you, watching with dark eyes. She could get off right now at just the sight of your body beneath her, the way every one of her touches raised goosebumps on your skin. Wanda feels you tighten around her fingers, wet walls pulling them in. She smirks down at you. "That's it.. just like that, fuck.." She mutters.

You repeat her name as pleasure flows through your body, your climax crashing over you like waves. You knew being stoned would be different, but you hadn't expected to feel this euphoric. Your eyes open to see Wanda staring down at you with stars in her green eyes.

"Wanda, that.."

"I know, detka," Wanda chuckles.

You take her face in your hands and kiss her passionately. The way her tongue swipes across your lip and the fact that you can taste yourself has your body heating up all over again. You feel a familiar fire burning in your lower stomach as Wandas naked body rubs against yours.

So, so soft...

So, so warm...

You don't know how long it is, with no sense of time, that you had been kissing Wanda. But she parts with swollen lips to walk across the room. You feel yourself throbbing as you know what she's getting, what she's about to do. Wanda walks over to you, her strap now attached to her.

"Sit up, baby," Wanda says gently and helps you sit up. She moves to sit at the head of the bed, her back sitting against the headboard. "Come here." She smiles at you, helping you straddling her lap. "Such a pretty girl, for me, aren't you?" You nod in response. "Then ride my cock like the good girl you are." Her voice is stern, but soft.

Wanda practically lifts you up before you settle yourself down onto the faux cock. Your mouth parts and your eyes squeeze shut at the feeling of her deep inside you. Any pain quickly turns to pleasure as she guides you with hands on your hips to begin moving.

All you could grasp was the feeling of Wandas hips snapping up to meet yours, the way she moans your name, and how soft the skin under your hands was. Your hands traveled from her shoulders, to her neck, to her jaw. You couldn't pick one to settle on. You had to keep touching her.

Wanda could feel, with every thrust of her hips and every bounce of your body, the strap rubbing her in all the right places. She could feel her skin burning against yours.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," She moans along with you, sinful sounds filling the room. "You're doing so good detka, fucking bouncing on my cock like that." You only manage a whimper out, legs shaking as they were about to give out underneath you.

Wanda suddenly grabs ahold of you, lifting both of you up and lying you onto your back. She pounds relentlessly into you, and you know at this angle you're not going to last long.

"Oh god, Wanda! Feels so good!" You cry out, feeling her breasts press against yours. The muscles in her arms flexed as she held herself above you.

"I know, baby, I know.." Wanda praises. Your hands hold onto her back, leaving scratches down her back as she continues to thrust into you with no mercy. She grunts at the feeling, loving the way you held onto her.

Wanda is met with more resistance as she thrusts, your walls tightening once again around her. "Are you gonna cum again for me baby? Fuck, fuck.." She can't help the low moan that escapes from the back of her throat. This time you can only nod, mouth unable to form actual words. "Fuck Y/N I'm gonna cum!" Her hips waver, that steady rhythm she had finally faltering. "Cum with me, detka. Cum for me," Wanda pants out, hot breath hitting your sticky skin.

That's all it takes for you to repeat her name again, over and over like worship. Another orgasm crashes over just like before, waves hitting you over and over.

You don't know how long you'd been laying like this, but you were loving every moment of it. Wanda held you close under the covers, at the wrong side of the bed. You felt the soft fabric of your pillowcase tickle your toes. The two different highs you experienced tonight slowly fading away.

"I guess I could probably do that again," you say with a giggle, your finger tracing imaginary letters on Wandas chest. She hums in response, kissing your forehead. You could feel the smile plastered on her face.

"We're definitely getting you stoned again," Wanda laughs and moves herself on top of you again, settling herself between your legs. Her green eyes were just that, no sign of bloodshot anywhere.

Wandas' regular usage had her craving more already.

So she kisses you again, her favorite drug of choice.

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

once again canon comes to bite me in the ass

I haven't changed the printing settings at all, this is SUPPOSED to be a photo printer, meaning it SHOULD be able to print on glossy sticker paper without problem, and when I first got the thing, it DID

but NOW

for some BIZARRE REASON

If the stickers have anything in pure black ink, the ink just. rubs off.

WHAT????

I've been able to fix this by hitting the stickers with a light painting-setting spray before I cut them out but honestly the sticker thing might be way more trouble than its worth, especially since I'm using the printer to do a handful of prints in-house now, so it's not like I'll be losing the use of a stupid expensive printer

I got a sticker cutter a while ago but I stopped using it once I realized that a) even going through silhouette's app the registration markers have to be oddly specific in order to cut ANYTHING accurately, and sometimes they don't work anyways and b) the sticky mat leaves really wretched residue on the backs of the stickers

so I've been cutting all these stickers by hand, making it even LESS appealing to keep them on the shop

for now the setting spray method seems to work so once I'm out of sticker paper I'll not be ordering more

for reference these are the stickers sold on the shop, we have

the shit post calligapher (misc)

the canadian deep cuts

and the fucked up daikon radishes

[syd-djarin]

private eyes - jack daniels x private investigator!f!reader (18+ MDNI)

this is for @iamasaddie little lady kinky may challenge! congrats on 2.5k! <333 I was paired with Jack / Voyeurism.

banner by: @cafekitsune

tags: voyeurism (reader watches jack), masturbation (m & f), reader is a private investigator, gratuitous descriptions of my fav cowboy stroking his big cock, dub-con a little? reader masturbates in her car but there isn't anyone around so public but private

a/n: this is the first fic I've completed in months. it's short and to the point, idk how i feel about it but it pushed me out of my writing slump! kinda want to do a part 2 for this, what do y'all think 👀

wc: ~1.6k

smut below the cut

 “I want you to catch that son of a bitch in the act.”

The visibly scorned woman, Camilla, sitting across from you asks through tears, ones that she hasn’t allowed to escape down her cheeks; catching them right at the waterline with an overused tissue.

This isn’t the first time a disgruntled, mistreated, or betrayed lover has sought out your services — no shortage of shitty men leaving trails of destruction while they pillage and greedily chase their own interests. She’s no different, seeking closure from the broken-off engagement from her now ex-fiancée, Jack Daniels. The pair had been together for a year, engaged for three months and one day, out of the blue, Jack broke it off. According to her, he didn’t give a concrete reason, something vague about being consumed with his job and that “she deserved a better life than that”. 

Of course you get paid a pretty penny for your work, but you take great pleasure in catching a man in the act. Whether the woman needs proof for divorce settlements, custody battles, or to just have leverage. Whatever the case may be, you find a gratification you don’t get anywhere else; the upheaval of a man trying to have his cake and eat it too. 

The conventionally attractive woman you couldn’t pick out of a line-up slides her homemade dossier across the coffee shop table, tacky & sticky from previous patrons. You flip through the information presented to you, taking mental notes as you go. You can’t deny the heat that rises up your face as you study the picture of your next target. The deep sable eyes resembling a baby calf’s are staring at you through the glossy photo paper. He’s sporting a mustache reminiscent of Burt Reynolds that is calling your name. His smirk is laced with a charming cockiness. 

“He’s quite the looker, I know. Hell of a lay, too,” her words snap you out of your daydream. Her words feel hollow, his looks are the only attributes she’s mentioned during the duration of the consultation. You're not getting paid for moral judgements and you remind yourself you don’t know the whole story. 

“Which is why I want to know who he’s fucking. I know there’s another woman, or maybe even a guy… he’d answer calls in the middle of the night and step into another room and I swear I could hear a woman’s voice on the other end, he’d tell me he’s going on work trips… he works at a whiskey distillery, why the hell does he need to go on all these trips?” She explains, putting air quotes around ‘trips’ with her dainty, well-manicured hands, “he’d stay late at work a few nights a week, and then it turned into a nightly thing… Anyways, you come highly recommended, so I’m trusting you won’t let me down,” she adds. You’re not a fan of the passive aggressive, back-handed compliment she gives you, but ultimately you give her an understanding smile as you both rise from the table. 

“I’ll be in touch,” you tell her, as you exit. As cliche as that line is, you love saying it every time. 

Days of following Jack around have proven to be fruitless. The man has a simple routine: wakes up at six, traipses to the bathroom to begin his morning regimen of a showering, shaving and grooming his beloved mustache, and to conclude,  adorns his body in his tight denim jeans, a crisp button-down, a cowboy hat, and boots to match. You hate to admit it, and someone would have to waterboard this information out of you, but the hat is doing something for him. 

Or you. 

Whatever. 

He shops weekly on Wednesdays (he always puts the cart back inside the store, not the cart returns in the parking lot), takes the same route home everyday, watches Jeopardy while he eats dinner – you caught on quickly that he cooks during Wheel of Fortune, it appears he isn’t a big fan of Pat and Vanna, dishes promptly following Final Jeopardy and bed by nine. In three weeks Jack hasn’t had a single visitor, of any gender, leaves work at five like everyone else, the man isn’t adding up to be a cheating womanizer like Camilla had set him out to be. Not to say that he isn’t, but you’re not finding any evidence to support that claim. You’ve actually found yourself developing a crush on the man. He’s undoubtedly handsome, seemingly laid back despite his strict routine, and there’s something mysterious that lies beneath that you’re itching to unearth.

You’re parked discreetly across the street from his house. It’s a nice quiet street, with only two lamps to illuminate the surrounding neighborhoods, allowing you to stay shrouded in the night. 

You’re about to call it a night, exhaustion settling deep into your bones, when you notice a lamp turned on in the living room. Fortunately, the window faces the street, making your job that much easier for you. You pick up your binoculars to peer in, adjusting the focus for your prying eyes. Thank the universe he left his blinds open. 

He sits on the couch with his back facing you. It looks like he’s reaching for the remote, like maybe he’s having trouble sleeping, but when he settles back into the couch, you notice he’s butt ass naked, in all his glory. Even through the binoculars, you can see how big his cock is. Your mouth salivates at the sight, wanting to feel the stretch of him in all your holes. 

You’re not supposed to see this. Not at all. Usually in your assignments, you don’t get the full X-rated view, just the PG-13 suggestive one, and you are more than grateful for that. 

But not now.

You’re getting your own private peep show from the man you’re getting paid to spy on. You’re feeling like a grade-A pervert right about now but the sight is too glorious to look away. He spits on his hand, and languidly begins stroking his cock. He runs his other hand through his hair, his toned arms flexing with his movements, his chest heaving. 

It shouldn’t turn you on like it does. For one, it’s highly unprofessional. Secondly, he’s unaware he’s got an audience. Morally speaking, it’s definitely not your shining moment. But it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, watching him tease and work himself up. You couldn’t pry your eyes away if you wanted to. 

Jack’s not the only one getting worked up; your clit throbs so hard you feel like it’ll go numb. Your heartbeat echoes in your ears thump-thump thump-thump. You let out a whine when Jack massages his tip, precum dribbling out like a sweet nectar you’d like to feast on. He continues his slow movements, dragging out his pleasure at a delicious and excruciating pace. Somehow, this makes the whole scene that much hotter; the display of restraint and discipline. You wonder if he does that with his lovers. Teasing, teasing, teasing, giving just enough to drive you insane before slowing almost to a stop. 

Possessed by desire, you haphazardly look for any lingering people outside before unbuttoning your pants to shove your hand to where it's needed most. You gasp at the cool air hitting your thinly clothed pussy, you can smell your own arousal seeped into your panties and it spurs you on further. You mirror Jack’s pace - teasing your lips with a featherlight touch, inching closer and closer to your needy clit, stopping just shy of it, to tease yourself more. It’s agonizing in the best way, taking your time like this. Normally, you like efficiency when making yourself come, rarely going the extra mile to turn the pleasure dial up, but this makes you question why you’re ever in a hurry. 

You reach your clit, going in gentle circles to match Jack’s unhurried pace. You wish you could hear the sounds he’s making, all the grunts and whimpers escaping his plush lips. 

He speeds up his strokes, now ravenous for his delayed release and so are you. Overtaken by the need to come, you drop the binoculars, letting them fall to the floorboard. You’re not even watching him anymore, having seen more than enough to commit to your spank bank. With your eyes closed and head pushing into the headrest, your mind is flooded with images of Jack fucking you slow, hard and deep, absolutely destroying your pussy – legs over his shoulders, hitting the spot that makes you scream and cry in euphoria. The image of him spilling into you, filling you up with his come is what tips you over the edge, your body shivers in bliss and you rock against your hand to ride out the high, feeling faint from the intensity. 

After you’ve recovered and fumbled your chance of ever seeing The Pearly Gates, you dare to look back to his house, to find all the lights back off. It’s a bit of a relief, feeling less shameful of what you’ve done now that you can’t see him at the moment. 

You button your pants backup and lean over to retrieve the forgotten binoculars from the floorboard, as your fingers grab them you hear a knock on the window. The sudden rap on the glass makes you flinch, feeling your skeleton attempt to flee from your corporeal body. Your heart drops to your stomach when you see Jack standing outside your car, leaning one forearm against the body so his face is level with yours. Fuck fuck fuck. You’ve been caught. Dizziness and nausea war within you as you roll down the window. You open your mouth to explain the situation, but words never escape your mouth. 

“You like watchin’ people don’t ya?” he asks, his tone is dark, but not angry. No, it’s something else entirely. 

“I–”

“‘S’alright. Caught onto ya pretty quick. A pretty face like yours ain’t hard to miss.”

“I– i’m sorry, um,” you scramble to find words, any words but Jack interjects again. 

“You like watchin’, but darlin’ I want to know, do ya like bein’ watched?”

[cherryredstars]

omg hi cherry!!! yay yay yay I'm so excited requests are open! I love your writings ❤❤❤

Mkay so I was wondering if you would be into writing something more fluffy (I mean you can put smut if you want, lord knows I'm not gonna complain 🤭). I was thinking maybe reader is a teacher, and Gabriella is in her class at school, so she meets Miguel that way. And like over time he just keeps making excuses to see her, even though Gabriella's grades are actually totally fine— he's just so down bad lmao

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reder

Warnings: Fluff, Last Line is Suggestive

A/N: Hi, lovie! Thank you!!!

Unedited

You're fucking stunning.

Standing there in a pretty little dress, skin glowy from summer vacation. Got one hell of a smile on you, too. It has Miguel antsy as he waits in line to drop Gabi off for her first day, his hands tightening around his daughter's book bag as his eyes study every little move you make. Eyes zeroing in on how the wind plasters the back of your dress to your legs, your hands catching the front of it to prevent the fabric from flying too high up. He's nothing but a lovesick puppy by the time he reaches you, nodding dumbly to your introduction as he marvels over the softness of your hand in his, and eyes dropping to the glossy tint of your lips. He has to stop myself from making a noise when you bend down to talk to Gabi, complementing her outfit and gushing about how excited you are to be her teacher this year. The sight is so fucking domestic and he has to stop the fantasies popping up in his head. He takes it as a god-given sign that you're meant to be his when you start to get up, only to grab onto Miguel's shoulder as two little kids come running and bumping into you from behind. He'd be one hell of a lousy man if he didn't jump at the opportunity to grab at your waist and pull you closer to him to 'help steady you'.

Any day that Gabi comes homes with a little paper asking for parent help at a school event for her class is one hell of a lucky day for Miguel. Instantly jumping at the opportunity, signing up the seconds he reads it. Can't miss out on a single opportunity to see how you treat Gabi like she's your own kid or be close to you. Fucking loves how flustered you are every time he takes something off your hands, encouraging you to leave all the heavy duty labor to him so you can focus on the kids. He's always offering to do something for you. Something in the classroom is broken and the school's maintenance is taking too long to fix it? Oh cariño, why didn't you say something sooner to him or Gabi? He'll come in during your lunch break to fix it up while the kids are at recess. Sweet little thing needs help putting up decorations around the classroom? Oh baby, what do you think big, large men are meant for? He'll stay after school Friday and put everything up, just sit and be pretty as you help Gabi with her math homework. Sad that you need to buy new supplies for the classroom but they don't fit into your budget and you feel bad having to ask the parents to donate supplies again? Oh doll, send him a list of anything and everything you want and it's yours, pretty ladies like you don't deserve to worry about things like that. He'll even give you his number so he can buy you lunch.

And when you blink up at him with your sparkly doe eyes and ask, "What can I do to repay you, Mr. O'Hara?"

Fuck.

If you aren't careful, he might just have to buy you a pretty little ring. And, by next school year, you'll be introducing yourself as Mrs. O'Hara.

Maybe he'll even give you a kid of your own while he's at it; Gabi's been bothering him about a baby brother, anyways.

[iliketangerines]

Hi! How are you? Anyways I was wondering if maybe I could get a blurb of an afab reader sending her nudes to Tomas to tease him while he’s gone?

This man has me in a chokehold I need to gnaw on his arms.

worth it

a/n: i'm doing okay, and i agree, his arms are just so yummy

pairing: tomas vrbada x gn!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), masturbation, publix sex (he's in a tree)

Tomas presses the palm of his glove to his nose, breathing in the scent of the laundry detergent you had used to wash his uniform

he was on a mission away from the Shirai Ryu, and you had insisted on washing his uniform before he left, eyes practically lighting up at the opportunity

and he was glad that you did because your scent was all over the cloth, and it was a reminder of you until he could go back home

settling back down into the tree, Tomas watches as the moon starts to rise in the sky and tries to get comfortable to rest for the night before he continued on his journey

shoving his hands into his pockets, he lets out a confused sound when there’s the unfamiliar crinkle and feel of papers in his pants

Tomas grabs onto the unfamiliar objects and pulls it out, and his eyes slightly widen at the sight of them in his hand

the glossy laminated photos of a polaroid glinted in the moonlight, but it only highlighted your curves and body in the first photo

it was you, dressed in lingerie, in your favorite color, and you have your ass high in the air, back perfectly arched and your hair frames your face as you stare into the camera with a coy smile

he flips to the next photo, this time your face isn’t in the photo, but the sight of your hands cupping your chest toward the camera and your stomach on display had his cock twitching in his pants

his hand squeezes the photo, and he rubs at the corner of the photo with his thumb, trying to control himself and take in a deep breath

there’s only one more photo left in the stack, and Tomas flips to it

you’re completely naked, on your knees, legs drawn far apart, your hands are reaching up and your back is arched, pushing your chest toward the camera

you look at the camera with a sultry gaze and dark lipstick, and Tomas groans and shoves his free hand down his pants, gripping onto his cock and squeezing it

it was embarrassing how hard he got from just looking at the photos, but you truly were gorgeous

he wonders how long it had taken you to get these photos, when you had the time to take them in between all the training sessions

Tomas almost wishes he was there to take them for you, to trace his fingers over your skin and watch the goosebumps rise

he wants to take the pictures of your ruined face when he fucks you, all glossy-eyed and lips swollen, moaning and gasping for air every time he thrusts into you

the assassin adjusts himself on the tree, just enough so that he had enough slack in his pants to pump himself and swipe the thumb over the tip and use his pre-cum as lube for his hand

you fill his mind, the scent of your laundry, the photos of you in his hand, and he can already hear you in his ears, the sweet whines and desperate begs for him to let you cum

biting his lip, he suppresses a grunt as he cums into his pants, stroking himself through the pleasure and trying to stay as quiet as possible

as he blinks and exhales, pocketing the pictures to keep for later, he wrinkles his nose in disgust, remembering he only had one pair of pants for the mission

it was still worth it

[calumfmu]

divorce lawyer steve is the loml 😍

could we see him finally meeting the husband you’re divorcing? 😉

Shorter one, but you know--had to do this to build the little universe better.

Divorce Lawyer!Steve x Reader [part one. part two.]

cw: smut-ish (interrupted), vulgar language, slut shaming, older!Steve, two idiots in love

“What are you doing here?”

Steve stood in your doorway, semi casually dressed—to his standards. White button down, pushed to the elbows, navy blue pants, brown loafers. His glasses were missing from his face, hair disheveled as he seemed to be more dressed down.

“I was in town?” His voice was gravelly, as he hadn’t expected you to open the door before he even knocked. You were on your way out, a normal visit to the inner city to drown out the past few months with partying.

“You live on the other side of New York.”

“Ah.”

You two sat there, staring into each other’s eyes. It was the first time around him you had felt uncomfortable, if you had even wanted to call it that.

“What’s that?” Your finger pointed to a box, wrapped in black paper, glossy, with a single bow.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

He was acting suspicious, not quite meeting eye contact as he stood in your doorway, looking like a scared cat that could flee at any moment. You grabbed the box anyways, snatching it from his hands before turning on your heel to go into your living area, plopping down on the couch.

As you began to unwrap the gift, he remained at the door, hands shoved in his pockets. You eyed him, raising an eyebrow as you took off the last bits of paper on the box.

“Stop being weird, old man,” an exasperated sigh left your mouth as he grumbled to himself, not pleased with your comment referencing his age.

It had been about a month of being his client, discussing paperwork, the details of separation, fucking him behind closed doors. The last part shouldn’t be apart of the equation, but one look at him, you couldn’t resist the temptation.

As the door to your apartment closed behind him, he stepped in, taking a wide look at the room around him. Moving boxes were still present, shoved into the corners of the room, scribbles of your name on the cardboard. You didn’t know what he was expecting—you to be living this lavish life in a lavish apartment, but it was home to you. Home to you at least for now.

You gasped loudly, slapping your hands to your mouth as you finally took a look inside of the box. Manolo Blahnik Mary Jane’s, patent leather shiny as ever, sitting there and dying to be worn.

“Steve!” Your mouth was wide open, surprise evident as you were had no idea was even aware of this side of heaven—shoe heaven. Grabbing the shoes, you immediately toed off your others, trading them for the gifted heels. Perfect fit. “You shouldn’t have!”

Giddy with emotion, you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. A sloppy kiss landed on his cheek, the grimace in return as your entire body weight leaned on him. Slowly his arms came to snake around your waist, gripping the skin around your middle section.

His eyes met yours as he stared down at you, warm, chocolate brown with a whole world to offer. In this lighting, you could truly see his beauty, how age only made him more angelic, filled with fine lines and moles dotting his cheeks.

“You said I owed you, so…” he shrugged, a smug look crossing his face as he took in how grateful you truly were for the gift.

“You didn’t actually have to,” you replied, trailing your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “The other pair wasn’t actually ruined, and these are so… so-”

“Think of it as an early separation gift.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. Just as you turned to lean into the kiss, he pulled away, a slight dip of his eyebrow in teasing manner.

“Steve Harrington, what am I going to do with you?”

He looked away from you, smiling into the distance as you looked down at your shoes once more, squealing with delight. This was all too domestic, too inappropriate for what your relationship should be with him, especially only a month in—yet not a relationship at all, but who was anyone to tell you differently?

Sinking down to your knees, you were careful to not scuff the gifted shoes, settling on the balls of your feet. You reached for his belt buckle, hastily working the metal between your fingers. His hand instinctively came to your head, tangling in the hair as he gasped.

“What-what’s—no, you don’t have to-” His words became jumbled as you smirked up at him, blinking through long lashes.

Faux pouting, you freed his zipper, slowly pulling it down with the lightest touch of your fingers.

“I could tell you about this Ferragamo dress I’ve been eyeing,” you whispered, biting your lip as you began to palm his through his exposed underwear. His head dipped back quickly, his eyes rolling shut. “Or—I could show you how grateful I really am.”

He nodded down at you, tightening his grip in your hair as you pressed a kiss to his groin, staring up at him through it. A shuttered breath escaped him, slow and jagged, his eyes watching the quick dart of your tongue dampening the material.

Just as you pulled him out of his restraint, a rapid knock was heard at the door. Steve craned his head back, silently cursing to himself as you wrapped a hand around him, moving slowly over the velvety skin of his shaft.

“Should you get that?”

“They’ll go away.” An open mouth kiss was pressed to his head, licking away the beaded pearl at the tip. The salted skin had you drooling, already craving more.

The knock was more urgent this time, a male voice heard through the thick wood of the door. It made the both of you pause in your tracks, Steve’s eyes widening, your mouth half way around him.

“Is that-?”

“You think-?”

It took only one more knock before the two of you were making haste, Steve’s pants sliding up with a jump, you wiping the corners of your mouth. The both of you were trying to appear normal, appear like actual lawyer and client inside of whatever this was.

Rushing over to the door, you have one last look at Steve, him lingering over the kitchen island as he grabbed a random folder, grateful that it had been documents relevant to the divorce settlement.

Your soon-to-be-ex’s eyes were small as he took you in, eyes dragging down your figure. His looks, those in which you had once thought were beautiful, seemed devious, up to no good while he stood before you.

“New outfit? Looks slutty,” he muttered, pushing his way into your apartment. He looked around, focusing on the boxes in the corner of the apartment, taking in every minuscule detail of the room.

“Aw damn, I was hoping for more tramp-y,” you were firm in your words, but insecure nonetheless. You felt exposed as he stood there, nervous that he would instantly know what you and Steve had previously been up to.

Taking notice of the older man in the corner of the room, your ex adjusted his suit, shirt unbuttoned down to below mid-chest exposing firm muscle that had your eyes rolling. He put on a bravado-type show, puffing out his chest like some animal trying to intimidate its prey. Steve didn't notice.

You leaned a hip against your couch, arms crossed against your chest, eyes rolling back as your ex continued to do whatever he was doing.

"Is there a reason you're on my side of town?"

Steve finally turned around at the sound of your voice, pulling his wire frames out of his pants pocket and sliding them onto his face. If there was just the privacy of you two, you would've jumped him by now. Barely looking at the younger man, his eyes focused on the papers in front of him.

"Your side of town?" His NY accent was thick, home to the city you now call home. "Didn't realize that was on the table for the divorce."

"Speaking of terms of settlement, I don't think it's quite appropriate that you're here right now," Steve's voice drew the staring competition that you two began, two stubborn attitudes gnawing at each other. You were reluctant to pull your eyes away from the man, noticing just how cheap his expensive suit looked on him.

Your ex turned towards Steve, hands on his hips, chest poked out, styled hair coiffed on his head. Its style didn't compare to the older man—and he had about 20 years on him.

"And who might you be, old man?"

Steve's reply was a tick of his jaw, tongue smacking against his teeth as he walked up to meet the man. A hand shot out for him to shake, although it was left unmet. Your ex-partner just stared down at it, thumb reaching out to rub against his bottom lip.

"Harrington, Steve Harrington. Representing the young lady over here." Sighing, Steve tucked the hand into his pocket, stifling his own eye roll at the rude gesture. He shared a brief look with you, understanding now why you wanted out of the marriage so badly. Even by this barely thirty second interaction.

"Mm, bet you're sleeping with her, grandpa," your ex's words had you stifling a giggle, your teeth digging into the palm of your hand to stop the sound. It wasn't that his words were funny, but more so Steve's reaction to it.

He had cleared his throat, rather loudly, tugged at his collar that hung loosely at his neck. Obvious wasn't the word to put it, just a surge of an uncomfortable feeling that overcame him. One thing you could count on was your ex-husband being dense as ever, grateful that he hadn't caught the movement he had made.

"Hardly ever professional," Steve answered, clasping his hands in front of him. "Even to joke about, young man."

He was met with a response similar to his original, a tick of the jaw and eyes cut towards him. The younger man hated the turn of the namecalling back, even despite calling Steve everything other than the word 'geriatric' itself.

"I can bet you want to. I mean, look at her."

"Sir."

The irritation that stemmed from the nicknames towards him geared towards the comments made about you, Steve pinched his nose bridge. He shoved the papers to the side, tugged on the sides of his jackets, straightened his posture. Taking a step towards you, he brushed past the younger guy.

"I have a meeting starting up soon," he said, crowding your space. One of his hands brushed against the side of your thigh, a gesture that went unnoticed by the other party in the room, definitely noticed by you. Butterflies began in the pit of your stomach, tingling lower as your skin burned with the touch of his hand. "We can meet at my office, our scheduled twelve."

As you began to answer, your ex spoke up for you, waving his hands in the air as he made his way towards the door instead.

"I'm heading out, you can relax, geezer," your ex opened the door, lingering for a moment more. "I was just stopping by to see what more my lawyer can collect."

He threw a wink towards you, nodding in Steve's direction.

"Better suit up well, pal. It's only going to get worse from here."

The door shut behind him, silence hanging heavy in the air as the two of you sat there—stunned silence. It took only seconds for you to start laughing as soon as that door closed, leaning against the couch with your hands covering your mouth, feet in the air as you sat on the back of the furniture. Steve shook his head at you, running his hands through his hair.

"Really? Him?"

You nodded, cackling at the mess that was left behind by the few words that were shared between the men. Taking a step in your direction, Steve found space between your open legs, hands resting on the couch outside of your thighs.

"There's no way he could've been anything other than that," Steve huffed a laugh finally, hanging his head as your giggles finally came to a stop.

You ran your hands up the front of his chest, the fabric of his shirt running between your fingers. Tugging at the material, you brought his face closer to your own, inches away from each other as you stared up into his eyes. That chocolate brown had you smiling softly, comfort easing the anxiety that had settled at your chest from the earlier interaction.

"Shut up and kiss me, old man."

Steve smiled widely, eyebrows shooting up. Humor found him at your words, different than the earlier reactions given. "Oh, you guys were perfect for each other."

You pressed your lips to his, slotting perfectly into his shape. It was a chaste kiss, a subtle press of lips that warmed your core.

"But I think you're perfect for me now."

Masterlist. Inbox and requests are open! <3

[icarusredwings]

Ok so the gif on your lunch post just now made me think of when I would go to camp and my mom would leave tiny encouraging notes hidden in every pocket and thing she could hide one in, like in my water shoes and between shirts and shit.

Anyway I was thinking about if Logan or Wade were to do this, like wades going out for a long mission and either he hides little notes around the apartment for Logan to find or Logan hides a bunch of notes in wades stuff, and they keep finding them randomly, they would say cute shit like, "love you" Or "miss you"

Or or or, maybe, Wade is little and something popped up and Logan needs to go do a thing but can't bring Wade the way he is so he asks someone to watch him for a while and hides cute notes for Wade to find so he isn't missing him too much.

Just a silly thought

Notes

Yesss thisss

Pov, you go on your annual trip to the deep canadian woods to hide from society (It keeps him sane your honor) but your husband misses you so much that his abandondment issues kick in and starts crying. But you were smart. You left him notes.

A truama induced little wade ficlet Ft. Caregiver Peter Parker (aka the only person Logan will trust with Little Wade)

The first few days that Wade is with Peter is great. He mainly either follows him around or is just on the couch sending Logan tiktoks to watch when he got his service back, telling him he misses him and 'dont get eaten by a bear lol', truly missing him.

By now, even Peter can see it, trying to cheer him up by asking him to help him with stuff around the apartment only for him to check his messages. They're all unread. Subconsciously it does something to him, at first making him cry quietly and then slump against the floor, sobbing that he misses Logan so much and this is the longest hes ever been away, and what if he hates him now? What if he never comes back? What if this was his way of breaking up with him? What if.. what if he never saw kitty again...

The sobbing obviously gets his attention (you know, spideysense) coming to Wade. "Oh.. Buddy.. Come on. Lets go get you a beer somet-" but he stops, watching how tight Wade is curled up, how hard he's hugging the broom and the big glossy innocent eyes.

"Crap... Hold on. He gave me something for this. I told him I already had stuff but he said something about it being special?" He mainly is talking to himself as Peter goes into his room, bringing back out a Dora the Explorer book bag.

"Wade Wilson" it said on the straps, ya know, incase some kid tried to steal it.

"Heeeyy buddy. Look what Log- I mean Kitty brought. Isn't that so cool? What's in here, Pal?"

Looking at him, Wade blinks, the confusion enough to stop his loud crying. "K-kitty?"

"Ah webs. You're really little aren't you? Cause you stopped litsening after 'kitty.'"

"Kitty?" He perks up more, smiling widely through his tears, which makes Peter smile too.

"Yeah. Kitty. Let's open it up."

Logan had slipped this to him just before he left town. "He's gonna need this." He said.

"Oh no, I have enough small stuff to take care of him, it's alright." He insists, but Logans glare of both jealousy and a 'Just fucking take it' expression made him take it anyway.

"Don't give it to him until he needs it. It's a suprise and I need it to last the week."

So Peter litsened, now presenting the book bag as a gift rather than having it this whole time.

Inside the zipper alone was 3 sticky notes, one attached to a letter, or rather, Instructions. The other two was

"Hey, Kiddo. I love you->" and next to it was a sticky note with a big heart. Taking the heart, he giggles, sniffling and wiping his eyes, pulling the sticky note to his chest lovingly.

"P" the other one said. Picking it up, Peter opened the three papers inside, trying to read over them. Man, This looks like George Washington wrote it." He mumbles, but seemed to manage just fine.

His assumptions were correct. These were instructions, numbers to call, things to do, medical information, and said he had a box of creams in the bottom of this bag.

Some things included were Wade's safe small foods, what certain words meant, Vanessa's phone number, Al's phone number, a list of things he liked to do including a vauge routine, as well as an entire list of what to do if his skin got too bad.

The man smiles. "You sure are loved, Kiddo.." he mumbles taking pictures of the instructions. He would later update them into ariel files and add his own information before printing it put and sending it home with him.

"Hey, you're the first ever kid to come with a manual, lovebug."

"Bugs!"

"Mhm. Oh, but remember, spiders are not bugs. They are arthropods and are in a class of their own called arachnids. You know this. Well- big you knows this."

"Racknids

"Close enough. Hey, how about you unpack and then afterward we can go to the lab, yeah? Do you wanna help me in my lab?"

Wade nods, clapping softly with such a big smile. He loved going to the lab, and he loved touching stuff he wasn't supposed to. Er- I mean helping. Yeah. Helping.

Leaning against the couch, Peter was sure to carefully reread the pages again, putting the contacts in his phone just in case because he knew if something happened to Wade, Logan would kill him.

Opening the bag the best of the way, Wade squealed.

"What's wrong, bug- Even though technically Lady bugs are beetles and lovebugs are flies but thats besides the point."

Pulling out a hoodie that obviously wasn't his, Wade showed it to him. There was at least a dozen little notes on the front and judging by the excitment on his face, This hoodie and the notes were special.

"Oh wow, lots of them. That's great! Let's read them together, okay?" Crouching down, Wade nods, Letting him have the notes but not the hoodie, in which he instantly put on and hugged himself tight.

"Let's see. This one says 'Miss you so much' this one is 'I love you', this is a heart, see?" He shows him, pointing at it only for Wade to snatch it, putting it in his collection of them. "This one says 'Ill be home soon' this one says 'You're doing a good job' this one is.. i think a drawing of a dog?? Or.. maybe a rat?"

"Puppy!!" He takes this note too, kissing it. "Aww.. puppy."

"That's puppins? Sorry. My bad. Maybe we can visit her later. This one is another heart. This is 'Im so proud of you' and-"

The instant he says this, Wade flaps his hands a bit, giggling.

Yeah, that checks out. He did that when he tells him good job on patrols too.

"And all these are just different color hearts. Oh look this one's your mask." He gives the hearts to him and Wade hugs them all, gently crushing them but he smiles so widely that Peter dosn't dare mention it.

"What else is in there?"

Another giggle, more notes.

"That's a lot of notes, Lovebug. Do you want to save some for later?" Of course, Wade shook his head. He wanted them now, But Peter knew better and put some up for later.

Throughout the day, whenever Wade got upset, he would pretend that he found a new one, reading it to him or giving him the heart.

All in all, there were 25 hearts and 25 notes of encouragement with "I love you" and "I miss you" being the top commons, both having 5 each while the others varried. From words of praise to simply 'Behave for Peter-L'

Taking out his phone, Pete took a few pictures of the scene, smiling at them before unironically getting a call.

"You've got Siderman."

"Good. Hey, So.. I'm coming back early. I miss him too much. Did he like the bag? Is he doing okay?" Peter wanted to laugh. Logan sounded just as worried about Wade as Wade sounded about Logan. God, these two.. maybe true love was real.

"No, no, yeah! He's been great. Had a small melt down earlier because I wouldn't let him touch the sting solution in the lab but I gave him some ice cream and he was fine."

"Sting solution? What? Anyway- Can I talk to him?"

"He's actually sleeping right now. Ill send you the picture. Poor guys all tuckered out from playing and he must have eaten an entire box of mac and cheese too. He's over here curled up on my rug with that Plushie you sent, his action guys and your sweatshirt you gave him."

The thought made Logans heart swell, currently standing in the middle of a tiny town just to get cell service, his bags in hand and on his back.

"I'm glad.. okay then- don't tell him. Let me pick him up by surprise. Did he like the notes?"

"Absolutely adored them. He stufffed all the heart ones in his pockets actually.... hey... how come Tonys head is gone?"

"Huh?? Oh- hah yeah.. puppins ate it."

"Uh huh... I'll have to get him another. Some reason the heads always pop off too easily... Anyway, do you want me to have someone come pick you up or? You could be here by morning."

Sometimes Logan forgot just how large of a franchise/ allowance the much younger man got. "Oh! Uh.. sure? As long as you don't mind if I bring my deer and rabbits."

"Uhhh... that can.. be arranged? Did you go hunting or??"

"Wasn't really planned. Just.. sort of happened. But I know a butcher guy who makes really good jerky so I didnt wanna waste them."

Peter, whose senses may or may not be intuitive anxiety at this point in the call, decided maybe he shouldn't ask what he meant by "wasting them," seeing as this would imply they were killed without the intention of being eaten.

"Okay. Send me your location, and a truck should come get you. You can put your deer in there. And you can sleep overnight if you want.

"Yeah, No. Can't sleep without him anymore. The moron done ruined that gig for me."

Peter couldn't believe the sappy stuff he was hearing. He could never imagine Logan ever saying these things. "Alright, alright. I'll have'em bring his shirt. You need sleep. I need sleep. Bye, Mr. Howlett."

"You aren't ever just gonna call me Logan, kid, are ya?" He's told him a billion times to just call him Logan, but he never litsened.

"My aunt May taught me to respect my elders, sir."

Logan chuckles at the slight dish of calling him old, but it was true. "Of course she did... Bye, Pete."

With a click of a button, Peter sighs, starting to stand but before he could, Wade sat up, rubbing his eyes with a whine.

"Hi lovebug. Have a good sleep?"

But Wade only groaned, crawling over and up onto the couch, laying on him instead to close his eyes.

"Mmh.. why am I surprised?" He shifts to lay flat on his back, letting Wade shift to sleep on top of him, nuzzling into his chest and thumb going in his mouth as he curls up.

"You're kinda heavy for a sleepy guy." He mutters, hand going to his back, trying to lul him back to sleep as the other hand called someone else.

"Hey, It's Peter. I need a couple favors. Firstly...I need another iron man. The 5.3 inch action figure... yeah.. he snapped it off again. .. and secondly... How many frames do you think ill need for 50 2x2 sticky notes?"

[f10werfae]

Child-Bearing Hip Dips

pairing: Professor!Ari Levinson x College!Student!Reader

summary: Ari overhears his babygirl’s conversation with her friends, he teaches her another lesson, why he loves her love handles. (DILF!Ari) (Dom!Ari)

likes, Comments and reblogs are appreciated/18+

Chris Masterlist, Full Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“fuck, ya know these hips were made for me don’t ya?” Ari growled slamming his cock into her wet fuck hole, his shirt unbuttoned as she pawed at his meaty chest and stomach, his lips coming down to pull and tug at her puffy nipples. “Y-Yes sir, o-Oh shit” Y/n moaned feeling him spit onto her face, his hands kneading at her hips, even spanking it lewdly. Her college professor, loved watching her body jiggle and move.

- 30 minutes ago -

“So Y/n, your truth is, if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?” Grace smiled picking a truth out of the hat, seeing that hardly anyone had attended the sociology lecture today due to weather problems, the girls made due and played some Truth or Dare; their seemingly distracted professor marking papers at his desk. His circular glasses perched on his nose, his eyes making subtle contact with Y/n, sending her a wink every few seconds.

She fidgeted and squirmed in her seat, having no underwear to put on this morning while at her boyfriend’s house, the greedy git had stolen it after he had fucked the daylights out of her. That same pair of lilac underwear, peeking out of his trouser pocket everytime he stood up to grab more papers to mark. He was practically teasing her at this point, even playing with the promise ring on his finger, reminding her of how those same thick fingers were tugging, pulling and feeling every bit of her the night before; in fact every night for the past 4 months since she took up this class.

“Oi Y/n, stop oglin’ Mr. Levinson n’ answer the question already” Lara whispered nudging her friend, repeating the question to her so they could move on with the game already, “Right oh uh, if I could change one thing about myself… maybe my hip dips? I don’t know anything I wear leggings they make my body look square and it puts me off. Plus! I don’t know, i’ve had people tell me before that it makes my proportions weird” Y/n explained scowling, gripping at the skin on her hips, her friends nodding as they could relate to the exact same thing.

“Ok next one-“ Before the next truth could be asked, the bell rang signifying the end of the day, all four college girls sighing out in relief at the thought of it finally being over. Lectures were to be put on hold after today, with the weather threatening to worsen, giving them all a weeks holiday to do whatever they pleased. Or whoever.

“Do all you ladies have a safe way home? Would you like me to call a few cabs?” Mr. Levinson offered seeing them all start to file out of the room, all of them stating that their significant other’s were picking them up, “What about you Miss L/n?” Ari asked tilting his head, seeing as now they were the only two left in his lecture hall, his fingers fiddling with the lilac fabric in his pocket.

“Hmm my man said he would pick me up, I don’t know if he’s here yet though” She pouted playfully walking around his desk, grabbing onto his sleeves as she pulled herself to smack a glossy wet smooch onto his lips, one that was gladly reciprocated. “is that so? What kinda man is that, leavin his woman stranded and cold” He cooed letting his hands fondle up her skirt, ripping a hole into her stockings, cheekily groping at her backside.

Both of them chuckling as he sat back down onto his chair, bringing her onto his lap, his hands going under the creme knit jumper of his that she chose to put on this morning; feeling her bare breasts as he also hid her bra from her. He hated seeing those wired marks on her back, he could care less if her tits sagged, they were only his to look at anyway. “Can we go to your place already? It’s cold and I still need to finish the damn paper my sociology teacher set me”

“Oh yeah good job tellin your sociology professor that” He grumbled bunching up his sweater just above her chest, exposing her globes to the cool air, the same ones he would spend any amount of time sucking and kissing on. “Anyway what’s this I heard about hip dips? Who told you that?” His fingers massaging deep into her hips, the same hips he loved seeing swaying round his kitchen as she listened to her music, the same hips that rode his cock to the moon and back, the same hips that belong to the most gorgeous girl he swears he’s ever seen. His Y/n’s hips.

“Well am not lyin! I’ve heard so many people tell me to lose ‘em, i’ve tried all the tips but these girls won’t budge. They just make me look bulky” She groaned running her hand back through his hair, his eyes darkening as her body was basically exposed to him. “Baby, these are my love handles, I love holdin’ onto them everytime your sweet pussy is wrapped around my cock, the way the muscles tense and relax with every movement. I don’t give a fuck about proportions either babygirl, at the end of the day it’s all mine to eat and grab at” He growled setting her onto his emptied desk, her fingers automatically undoing his belt and buttons, his trousers being tugged sown to his thick thighs.

“Open up baby, seems I need to remind my girl some of the things i’ve taught her” He gritted his teeth, feeling his cock being engulfed by her warm gummy walls, a familiar feeling for them both, comforting even. “F-fuck daddy, still so big” She whimpered, already feeling like she had been split into two, her older boyfriends cock was no joke.

-Present-

“fuck, ya know these hips were made for me don’t ya?” Ari growled slamming his cock into her wet fuck hole, his shirt unbuttoned as she pawed at his meaty chest and stomach, his lips coming down to pull and tug at her puffy nipples. “Y-Yes sir, o-Oh shit” Y/n moaned feeling him spit onto her face, his hands kneading at her hips, even spanking it lewdly. “What did I read people callin’ these once? Child bearin hips” He whispered licking up between her tits, her hands clawing onto his ass, pushing his hips farther into her; her tongue reaching out for his as her drool covered face mashed up against his in a sealing kiss.

Ari groaning at the feeling of his woman’s cunt clenching around his length, her hips wrapping her legs around his waist, caging him against her body as he continued thrusting in and out of her mercilessly. “Ya like that baby? The thought of your professor knockin you up? Watchin’ you walk around campus all full of my baby? Only we would know our dirty secret” He taunted whispering right against her lips, a string of saliva connecting them as she cried out and had to bite her lip to keep the rest in.

“Yes- Yes I want it all! Fuck just give it to me daddy, need it so bad, warm me up with your cum” She squealed feeling his hand leave her hips to start circling at her precious delicate button, rubbing it raw as he helped her chase her orgasm, his catching up with it. “Whatever my baby wants, she gets” He sighed out, and Y/n swore she saw stars, her toes twinkling closed, his shaft hitting her G-spot repeatedly. Their torsos flattened against each other, her hips slowly gyrating, his seed filling her to the brim, creating a cream like effect to the base of his cock where they connected.

“So what did you think about these hip dips again?” He breathed out resting his forehead against hers, fully taking off her sweater so they could feel each other’s warmth, skin to skin. “You mean my love handles babe” She giggled beaming up at him, despite her face being riddled with sweat and saliva, but Ari was sure he looked the exact same. From then on he swore he would fuck the insecurities out of her, even if it was the last thing he’d do.

“That’s my girl, now come on, let’s go home so I can help you with this ‘stupid sociology essay’ so we can spend the week doing somethin more productive” He joked cleaning her up a bit, even fixing her hair that was now all over the place, “Or something more reproductive” She giggled kicking her legs, already feeling him growing hard against her thigh, she’s got him again.

———

PSA: Big beefy Ari is back again🫶🫶🫶🙏

library blog: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

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See you all at the next update🫶

[belphegored]

°•♡minors dni • March 7th/reader, fingering

You really shouldn't. Well, there are no rules against it, but common decency says you shouldn't be making your roommate whimper loud when the walls are paper thin. Can you even help it, though? March is so cute when she breaks down for you every time your thumb drags lazily over her puffy clit, smearing her slick so that it can glide easier, that you want to hear those whiny little sounds she lets on anyway.

You've been making her moan so since you snuck under her covers, about an hour ago, and even though it started as mellow pecks and snuggles, it had somehow escalated to you touching her all over slowly, without a goal in mind other than making her feel good. She'd been so wet from the beginning and begged to peel her sticky panties off her and it'd been downhill from there.

Now, for a moment you don't care if you wake up somebody, if Himeko or Dan Heng come banging the door to her room or whatever, but then if you allow yourself to think a little longer... You don't want anyone else listening to her moans.

& a gentle lover would kiss her hard to have her shut up, shove their tongue in and silence her, but all you aim for is to clamp your sweaty hand over her mouth and chide.

"Think you can keep it down?"

It comes off rougher than you like to be with her, makes things worse for a second as she mewls against your hand.

Yet your fingertips glide along her labia patiently still, like trying to coax her into cooperating, and as March's hips wiggle to have her cunt meet more friction, she ends up nodding weakly.

"Mmhm."

Good. You reward her, she deserves it: your lips wrapping around the swell of her blush-pink nipple and suckling as you keep touching her steadily. So good. Mark gasps and bites down her lip to keep her voice down.

"Good girl, my baby..." you mumble against her stiff nipple, "such a good girl for me, makes me wanna make you come..."

She's trying her best, screwing her eyes shut as she tries to draw little circles with her cunt in your hand and get off by herself; you'd laugh at her attempts if you weren't so high-strung and turned on either.

"You want to? Wanna cum, baby?" You tease her sweetly with a languid lick to the side of her throat until reaching her ear. It's not an empty question.

"Uh-huh," March manages with her voice as small as she can manage, one clammy hand gripping your shoulder and the other palming down her tummy trying to reach down and make herself feel more, "pretty please?"

That and the broken expression she wears is all you need from her; two fingers slip inside her with ease and you work her into her climax, curling them whenever she clenches around them tight.

Her hazy eyes get glossy with tears when you pump harder into her and press your hand to her lower abdomen to keep her still as she cums for you, a string of babbles and whimpers past her pouty lips when her head falls back into her pillow and her body convulses, messy cunt sucking your digits in.

You kiss her tender as she rides it out, kiss her cheeks her chin, her forehead and tip of her nose as she comes down. Such a sight- pink hair all messed up, face flushed red and mouth agape panting still, you know it's all worth it as she sighs, too fucked out to move: the looks you're gonna get in the morning from the others are nothing, if she cums so pretty on you.

[graphedpaper]

Renter Problems

yandere!celebrity x gn!reader

Synopsis: You're trying to find a place near your university to stay, and you've managed to find a mansion owned by a celebrity to live in. His name is Jacob, and you've known him since middle school, living in the same city as him. He's blown up as the new, hot celebrity thanks to the movie he's starred in, though, while you're just struggling to pass by. But he's been acting strange, and you're determined to .move out Details: Physical and verbal abuse, drugging, manipulation, gender neutral reader

Living with this man was hard. His constant need for your attention and approval, his strange comments, his overall eccentric way of living. At first, living in a celebrity mansion for a cheap price had seemed like a dream, but instead, it'd turned into a burden.

You sit up on the bed, leaning your back on the headboard and look out the floor to ceiling length window to see the sun slowly setting. You want to find a stable, normal place to stay in soon as possible.

You had posted an ad online so renters could contact you if their spot became available. You felt more secure with that back up in mind. You suppose thinking so much about Jacob attracted him because you suddenly hear a knock at your door.

"You there?" He asks, opening the door without waiting for a response.

"What's the point of knocking if you can't wait for a response?" You ask.

"It's my house, that's my door." He responds with a straight face.

"Sure..." You respond, not having the energy to argue.

"Anyways!" He claps his hand and points and you. "Want to watch my new movie with me? Pretty good if I say so myself."

You shift uncomfortably, bringing your knees to your chest. He's a bit closer to you now.

"Um, sorry Jacob but I feel a bit tired."

Jacob's smile drops. "What, you don't want to spend any time with me?"

"Huh?" You almost laugh out loud. "Do roommates have to spend time with each other? I'm paying my share of the rent, right? Do I have to be friends with you?"

Yikes. Was that a little mean of you?

Jacob would say yes, that was really, really mean of you. He was just trying to be nice.

Jacob sits at the end of your bed and you look at him confused.

"Y/n... ...Tell me the truth. Do you-" He stares at his lap. "Do you still hate me for what I've done to you when we were younger? Could you ever forgive me?"

You're stunned that he's asking for your forgiveness, but another part of you is hesitant to accept his apology, as you go through the multiple events where he'd picked on you at school. Small things, like name calling and throwing paper balls at your back.

"Oh! Um- well..." Your words falter. You have a grudge against him, but nothing so big that you would bring it up to discuss.

Jacob forces tears to form in his eyes and looks up at you. His glossy, brown eyes, all sad and red. It's fake, but you don't know that.

"Y/n the truth is I've always loved you. I admired you so much but I was too embarrassed to say my true feelings to you. Because I was scared of being rejected." Your stomach turns and you feel bad.

"I- aw.." You try to say something to comfort him but you can't form words.

You crawl to the end of the bed and you hug him. His big arms wrap around you as well and it feels more like he's cradling you rather than you embracing him. Your small form is engulfed in his arms and you start to feel calm. Jacob feels pretty good right now too.

"Jacob, don't cry, I'm sorry." You whisper to him. Sorry for what, you didn't fucking know.

"You hate me, right?"

"No! I don't!" You assure.

He gazes into your eyes. "Do you like me?" He softly asks you, not breaking eye contact.

You're speechless right now.

You part your lips and you're about to toss out some words about you and him having potential to be friends, but you're interrupted.

By Jacob pressing his own lips on your slightly open mouth. He moves his right hand to the back of your head supporting you and kisses you harder, pulling you in.

You gasp and push him off, jumping up on your feet.

"Shit! What was that!?" You exclaim. You stare at him, shocked by what just happened. You feel hot and dizzy.

Jacob looks at you. "Sorry." He mutters and leaves, locking your door on his way out.

You're left to be on your own, stewing in confusion.

It's not a matter of want now, but a need to move out immediately. Like the universe is helping you, you get a notification on your laptop about an available renter who's willing to rent out a cheap basement near your university.

You're leaving, tomorrow.

-----

You've woken up this morning feeling determined and energized. You've contacted the renter and you were supposed to move in next week but you begged her to let you move in tomorrow, and you've taken up on packing. 

Thankfully, Jacob is gone again, doing his celebrity work, whatever that could entail. 

You haven't seen him once since yesterday, when he confessed his love to you, then kissed you. You hadn't wanted to be kissed, or at least you think so.

On paper, maybe you should have enjoyed it. Jacob is attractive. He has loose waves and a pretty face. It felt bad, and gross, but it had also felt good, the kiss. Yet, you didn't think you could be in a relationship like that. With him. 

Who knows where that kiss could have gone. It may have escalated...

You cross your legs and squeeze your thighs thinking of the possibilities. You feel warm.

You should have hated the kiss. You did, but maybe not enough. Did you like Jacob? Oh my god. No, he was a total creep, and he hadn't even asked to kiss you.

He was only thinking of his own needs again, being selfish, just as he always had been with his inflated ego.

You've almost finished packing and it's early afternoon. You stretch yourself onto the bed and doze off.

-----

"Y/n? Are you home?" Jacob calls up. 

"Yeah, I'm here." You call down. 

"Come down, I brought dinner." 

You walk down the stairs and Jacob is in awe of your beauty. You have a glow. It's not the lighting, you're just a natural beauty, you're special. 

"Really? What'd you get?" You ask. Should you tell him the news that you're moving out after or during dinner? After, you decide. 

"I just got some Italian food." 

You smile at him. "Nice, I love pasta." 

"There's more to Italian food than pasta," He begins.  

You raise your eyebrows. "So no pasta?"

He grins. "Of course pasta." 

You're glad things are back to normal, because delivering the news will be easier now. Jacob unpacks everything and you smell the warm food, margherita pizza, pasta... 

You bring to the table 2 plates. 

As the 2 of you sit down, you stare at the plate most of time and eat ravenously. You've been so hungry all day, this is a blessing. 

Jacob tells you about the new interview he did, and how he had to sign "a 1000 autographs" 

Dinner is soon finished and Jacob brings out a bottle of wine. "Let's have a drink on the sofa." He suggests. You hesitate. "It's fine, everyone drinks Y/n, don't be so prudish" You relax on the sofa and taste the wine in your glass. It's fine, but you would really prefer anything else.

Jacob turns on the t.v. He sighs. "I've been lonely recently to an empty house, I'm glad you're here with me now." 

Aw man, why'd he have to say that? You freeze and the sentence you've been building up to saying gets stuck. You feel warm and fuzzy because of the wine. Your eyes feel kind of heavy too. 

"Speaking of- speaking of empty houses, I hate to say this Jacob, but I am leaving... ...tomorrow." You tell him, looking past him. 

Jacob stares at you with sharp eyes with that sentence. 

"What do you mean. When will you be back?" He asks, suddenly, and harshly, grabbing your wrist. 

"Jacob, I'm moving out." You say, trying to remain gentle. You notice the strange look on his face, it's not anger or sadness, or maybe it is? You're not sure. "I mean, I'll visit! Dinner at your place sometimes?" You add, trying to appease him.

He tightens the grip on your wrist. 

"Ow! Jacob, stop, it hurts! My wrist hurts!" You shout. You try to twist it out of his hand but it hurts more doing that. He doesn't let go. His eyes darken. 

"What, is it because of this kiss yesterday? You know, I'm sorry, but you wanted it too. I could tell." He asks, staring directly at your own eyes, unmoving. 

"Huh? Jacob you're ridiculous. I didn't want it, and yeah, one of the factors is the kiss. Also what you just said to me. Let go." 

"Don't go, stay." He tells you. 

"I've already made all the plans. I'm moving tomorrow. You probably didn't notice but I'm done packing." You retort back, trying to move away. 

Jacob slaps you in the face. The sting leaves you paralyzed in fear. "I said, don't go!" He shouts. He lets go your wrist and you notice immediately the numbness and redness on your wrist. 

You break down in tears and you start to scream for help. A neighbour, someone, anybody, to hear this and call the police.

But the alcohol blurs and softens your actions, like a terrible dream. Your arms feel weak. And that's when you realize that Jacob didn't have any wine himself. Had he meant for you to become intoxicated by yourself?

"Shut up!" Jacob barks at you and pulls you by your hair. "I confess my feelings toward you and you choose the coward's way and leave? Instead of working on this relationship?" 

"Stop!" You sob. Jacob stuffs a kitchen towel in your mouth and holds it their to stop your screaming. He then wraps it with a ripped plastic bag to secure.

You gag and almost throw up with the sudden intrusion of a foreign object in your mouth.

Holding your wrists with one hand he searches for something else. 

Jacob squats to your level and brings out a needle with a strange liquid already prepared inside. Your eyes widen and and your muffled screams do nothing to help your case.

"I didn't want to use it this early, but you're trying to leave. Leave us." He explains. 

"It'll hurt by the way. It's supposed to make you fall asleep. I think the alcohol is not supposed to be taken with this, but you escalated the situation so there's no helping it. I didn't want to do this. I wanted to have some fucking damn food with you. You're the one who's robbing me of choices and making me into a monster." 

Even in your panic you notice him rambling.

He's frantic and crazed, like a desperate maniac, sweat beads and wide pupils. 

He grabs your upper arm and quickly injects the strange liquid into your body.

 It hurts. 

All your muscles seize up and it feels like you're being ripped to shreds. Your body slowly goes limp and you feel yourself falling into a deep darkness. 

[cybrs4pphic]

literally cannot get stoner/dealer!ellie out of my head. it’s taking over.

suggestive content minors go away 18+

anyway modern!au n ooc!ellie idrk n idc

stoner!ellie who literally smokes like 15 bowls a day. insists it’s nothing a few in the morning for breakfast a couple for brunch several for lunch and dinner and like 3 so she can sleep tbh

loves when you smoke w her makes her feel so good inside esp if you smoke for the first time w her. literally she’ll let you pick the bong/rig/papers/wraps literally everything about it. wants u to be so comfy:((

stoner!ellie who, not even halfway into superbad, puts her hand on ur thigh n ur just so sensitive from the weed that ur leg is already shaking like a leaf under her hand. ur eyes are like laser focused on the tv and u can feel her staring at you, eyes half lidded and glossy, n she just

“you good, babe?” n u can hear her stupid fucking smirk n her stupid fucking voice that makes u clench ur thighs together n all u can do is glance at her and nod w a quick “mhm” that you’re even blessed to have gotten out correctly. n all she says is, “yeah?” as she leans forward into your vision so that you’ll actually look at her, “you wanna look at me when i’m talkin’ to you,” all while inching her hand to ur inner thigh, peeling your legs apart so she can finally reach into your shorts n feel the oh so noticeable wet spot in ur underwear. “oh? what’s this, baby? all for me?”

i am way 2 hi gn ellie🔛🔝✂️

[kivino]

CLOSER || SLASHER!SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY X M!READER

my masterlist

ao3 link to this fic

Word counter – ~2.9k

Tags/Warnings – very much dead dove do not eat, dealing with dark topics, stalking, unhealthy obsession, kidnapping.

Summary – You hear various dark rumors from your colleagues and you don’t believe them, until there is one particular ghost looking you right in the eye.

A/n – Fair warning, I am not trying to romanticize all those things. Requested by the anon from this post. Not proofread, so i'm very sorry if there are any mistakes.

At first, you didn’t believe all the rumors about ghosts, ghouls, and serial killers scouring every corner of the town in the dark, scratching the brick walls and howling in the tight alleyways. Your coworkers who usually talked about that kind of stuff appeared like gossiping teenagers exchanging something they heard or saw. Whispering on their breaks over lunch, or in those hours when business in the little coffee shop you worked in was slow. 

You thought their talks about some boogeyman hunting on the streets for new victims each night were silly at their best, and just distracting at their worst. You, coincidentally, were also usually the one working night shifts, taking over them after your female coworkers kept complaining about some creep waiting around until the end of the shift and scaring the crap out of them. 

So, how could you not help your colleagues out in a dire situation like this? Those shifts paid more anyway, and you needed all the money you could get. And, to be completely honest, you enjoyed the night. The lack of annoying customers, who’d scream at you for getting their order wrong, not smiling or some other stupid bullshit (whatever it takes to get that glossy paper with the words “20% off”, right?) died down by the night, so it was a breeze. Of course, you’d have to clean up and prep so much stuff for the morning shift, but then again, it was better money. So you could do with stacking some cups and taking out the trash and so on. After closing, you’d walk out a bit tired, but still enjoying the fresh night air, that would knock out any insistent worry straight out of your mind. 

And oh, what a fool you were for that. 

Ghost wanted to laugh, really. It was very amusing to him when you’d bravely head out into the dark, back to your shitty rundown apartment complex, listening to your music in your silly little headphones and not paying enough attention. Not a fucking thought inside this handsome head sometimes. Just perfect. Ghost knew he liked you for a reason. Which, of course, your appearance wasn’t solely why he felt drawn to you like you were a damn magnet. 

At first, he didn’t even notice you. Out and about, searching for any potential victims. Which became harder and harder each time he got bored and finished off the last one – their names fading from his memory as soon as the ringing from their strained, ear-splitting screams died down to a complete silence. They were borderline shrieks of wild, trapped animals that rang in his mind endlessly, day and night, echoes waking him from his restless dreams and lulling him back to sleep. Eyes snapped from figure to figure – searching, looking like a hound dog for something, someone that could satiate his hunger for blood. 

Followed a potentially interesting target to a small, cozy-looking establishment. Tried to look around more, still not completely set on the decision to commit to them. But then he laid his eyes on you and felt that familiar buzz under his skin, the pleasant vibrations that spurred him on like a prized stallion during a race. His blood felt scorching hot in his own body, anticipation for the desired thrill of the hunt already boiling in his veins.  That’s who he needed.

The huge man would follow you home with light, silent footsteps, uncharacteristic for his burly form. He would observe you from the dark corners of the forest, from between trees bunched together in thick, impenetrable layers. Ghost would come in during different times of the day, but wouldn’t ask for you, in fear of drawing too much attention – your coworkers looked like the types to run their mouths for fun, so he figured they would snitch on him to you. And that would just spoil all the fun, wouldn’t it? But then Ghost started feeling something he never thought he would. The more his eyes went over your form, over and over, like fingers picking at a bloody scab, or a tongue grazing gums where the tooth is missing, the more Ghost felt that ache poke needles through his skin, then change and transform into unfamiliar shapes and forms. Prickling on his insides, thorns gashing and bleeding his heart dry, his mind reeling at the mere sight of you in this stupid uniform, or just going about your business, and not knowing what kind of predator was following close behind in the shadows.

He craved more than your blood, your skin, and your smell on his knife, pooling between his fingers and onto the dirty floor of the basement. Etching scarlet lines into your sole being, slicing, cutting, and handling you like he would a piece of precious wood for his woodcarving projects. Ghost’s mind would go rampant with various images of you being with him. Not a victim, but a companion. A worthy one at that. The one Ghost deserves, with your presences intertwining until you two could not be separated from one another, grown together so deeply that you’d find parts of yourselves in each other wherever you’d look.

The only wish Ghost had was to be consumed by you wholly. And to consume you was a natural outcome of that. You’ll come around eventually. One way or another.

The images of his previous trophies resurfaced like thin, melting ice from fresh lake water. Each and every single one of them was an animal. In their life and their death. Scared but swift rabbits. Talkative crows that liked shiny things. Rabid hyenas that bared their teeth at him in a taunting grin. Gorgeous pheasants with their gentle coos. All of them so different, yet same in their dullness and lack of something Ghost was searching for in his prey.

You though, you were special. That’s why Ghost didn’t want to kill you, oh no. He wanted to keep you. All to himself. Lock you up like a wild bird in a golden, intricate cage and hear you sing lullabies and arias for him, and only him. Not for your stupid friends. Not for your idiot classmates. And not for your lazy ass coworkers. Only for him. 

So naturally if he wanted this songbird to be his, he had to get to work. Simon was a man of his words and actions, but Ghost preferred to act, rather than talk. First things first – he had to prepare a “cage”. One where you won’t escape from. One that will keep you safe from any harm. But not from him. He’d never harm you, in a million years. Ghost had to rearrange a room in the basement for that. And while it took some time and care, his feelings only grew stronger, when he would move and carry around so much stuff he had piling up in that dusty room. Then he had to know your schedule by heart, to know when and where he’ll be able to finally get his hands on the beloved songbird. It turned out to be pretty easy, Ghost got it down in a week and everything was working out perfectly. Finally, he had to catch you. Which, he was working on right now.

He waited until the perfect moment came to strike, like a hunter he was. One chance, that’s all it is going to take. And you’ll be his. His gut stirred with anticipation and excitement, that familiar buzz intensifying with each second, he waited to finally start his pursuit while hiding in the darkness. If it was anyone else but you the chase would’ve been lethal. For you, he had to contain his strength. Balling his fists together, beaten and bloody under the rough fabric of his gloves, he could easily snap a neck or break some fingers with the sheer power contained inside of his body, trained and adapted into the perfect shape for his…line of work and “hobbies”. For your sake, Ghost will have to use less force, for once in a long time. You’re only worthy while you’re alive.

The whole shift you felt like something was wrong. That sudden gut feeling, along with impending doom and anxiety that ate away at you was overtaking slowly but surely. Every second ticking away on the digital clock near the register only stretched that unusual, weird feeling like something (you weren’t sure what) was going to happen to you. You even felt a bit of cold sweat pop up right on your forehead, and the worst thing is, you couldn’t even point out what exactly threw you off your usual rhythm. So, all you had left to do was try to pretend like there wasn’t a whole hurricane of worry and panic bubbling inside of you.

You felt like you could snap any minute now from how tense you were. Intuition wasn’t your best suit, but you could not ignore a gut feeling so strong that you felt like vomiting up your lunch each time you were left in silence, alone with your thoughts, that spun around a variety of outcomes where you ended up dead on the side of the road because you didn’t listen to that gnawing dread curled inside your gut.

And you should’ve, really.

Maybe then you wouldn’t have been in the position that you’re in right now. Your chest and throat hurt, cold air burning with every shallow and quick inhale, as you ran, as fast as you could, blood pulsing in your ears with increasing pressure. You were pretty sure your heart was about to jump out of your chest. If it wasn’t for your headphones running out of battery and you having to walk back without any music you wouldn’t have heard the quiet, rapidly approaching footsteps. You couldn’t see your pursuer, too focused on the road, or lack thereof in front of you.

Why did you think dipping into the dark grove at the first opportunity to lose the person who was following you was a good idea? Your feet stumbled over the thick roots that webbed the fresh, wet ground, moonlight barely managed to pierce through the thick layer of leaves overhead and it seemed like any animal in your close vicinity disappeared, with how eerily quiet everything was, safe for your heaving and wheezing, that easily gave away your position.

You’re scared, oh, you’re so fucking scared you could feel the way hairs all over your body stand up from the terror, unknown follower sparkling fear so primal your thoughts are reduced to barely a semblance of your usual self.

You could hear the crunch of the leaves under your shoes, vines, and branches smacking you, as you ram through them in your attempt to get away, to save yourself from whatever wild beast was chasing you, whose heavy breath you could almost feel on the nape of your neck. You were pretty sure your face got smacked by another thorny vine, this time delivering a harsh, stinging cut that made you wince. You didn’t slow down, however, adrenaline made you push yourself to surprising lengths, that you didn’t think were possible in a normal, safe environment. The cut felt warm. You were pretty sure it started bleeding.

That is until your foot slips and you feel everything going upside down, crashing onto you, sharp pain digging into your sides, as you tumble down. And from water in your nose, eyes, and airway, you can give a wild guess that you fell into some kind of creek. If it’s true, then your clothes and your backpack are most likely busted. You try to get up, but your hands slide over slick, wet rocks on the bottom of the stream, making you slip back into the water and sending you into a whole coughing fit, bitter water resting on your tongue like a layer of algae. You yank your foot from under some rock, desperately trying to listen to the footsteps that at the moment were as loud as hell’s bells for you, stumbling to your feet, and through the thick darkness, you see that the path ahead will only be uphill. The ground is wet and muddy, but you don’t care, hands and nails digging into it, crawling upwards as fast as you can. You feel yourself grow cold when you hear a quiet slide and feel a hand grab you by your leg.

And then you start kicking, screaming, howling until a bitter burn on your throat makes you cough, spreading the sharp pain with every collapse of your chest. Fingers digging into the fresh mud and leaves, raking through them, earth sticking to the underside of your nails, as you try to grapple onto something, anything, to hold onto and save yourself from the iron hold on your ankle. Your heart is beating so fast you can hear it pumping the blood through every single artery and vein, and you’re sure that animalistic fear is being spread through your body along with it.

“Sing for me, boy. Nobody will hear you.” The man’s voice, devoid of emotions, littered with deep sighs and grunts of exertion rumbled from above you, as he dragged you down from the insignificant height you managed to climb.

“Fuck off! Let go of me!” You scream, your body contorted into a bizarre shape as you turn your head, trying to catch a glimpse of the man and correct the aim of your kicks. Your neck was weeping in pain and strain, along with every other muscle in your body. Fear scorched your insides. This was it for you, truly. Nobody will find your body in this stupid fucking forest and you’re just going to become the food for local fauna. Beautiful.

You expected anything – harsh blows to the back of your head, being drowned inside this shallow creek, stabbed to death, until you paint the water red, getting your head bashed in, or even shot like a rabid, stray dog who had no one to care for it. Instead, you’re getting your hands and legs tied together, and the man throws you over his shoulder, despite your attempts to scratch or punch him. You scream and cry, burning your throat raw, kicking and writing in the hold of the unknown person. Chanting harsh insults, and trying to kick or punch didn’t work either, but you didn’t care. You weren’t about to find out more about the local serial killer. However, no matter your intentions, you could not see where you were going, dark earth being the only thing in front of your eyes. Your thoughts and presence float far away from here, as the man brings you somewhere, jabbing a needle with something that makes you light-headed and sleepy.

When you finally wake up you’re changed from your dirt-stained, wet clothes, with your body aching like no tomorrow and the cut on your face dressed. The room has barely any light in it, and you feel the warm covers enveloping you, reminding you of home until you turn your head and see…something. Someone. His presence is enough to send shivers through your body.

He’s sitting by the bed you’re tucked into. Skull mask. Large, looming figure. Dark eyes gleaming right at you. You feel your face contorting into an angry scowl when you look at him and try to get out of bed. He doesn’t move. You get yanked back, and promptly turn your head again, feeling the muscles in your back and neck ache. Your hand is cuffed to the radiator. You feel a rough lump in your throat rise and drowsiness floating away. It doesn’t quite sink in yet, but you could feel the anxiety forming once again in the pit of your stomach and that lump rising as if you’re about to vomit whatever was left of your insides.

You hear the man get up from his chair with a quiet shuffle and the squeak of the chair legs on the floorboards. You flinch back, your back pressing into the warm metal of the radiator, almost burning the skin through your clothes. The bed dips down under the weight of the man. He’s not taking away his eyes from you, even for a second. It makes you want to crawl under the blanket that is now resting at your feet, just to hide from the piercing, heated gaze that you want to avoid at any cost.

You close your eyes, trying to calm down and think about anything else, but what surrounded you. Which proved impossible the moment you felt a rough, calloused hand shift from its position on the bed and rest on the side of your face. Warm, scorching fingers stroking your cheek gently, like that same hand wasn’t just dragging you through water and muck in the shallow forest creek.

Ghost felt…Good. Despite the bad first impression, he was sure that he was on the right track. Your skin felt divine, your beautiful eyes made him want to keep you here forever and never let go. And the way you looked while sleeping made him want to abandon observing altogether and crawl into the bed with you, caging in a tight, bone-crushing embrace that would show you just how much he craves you. But for you, it would probably be too fast, too shocking. For now, just being able to look at you and touch you was enough.

Maybe, if Ghost had a little more bravery he would whisper:

“You’re mine, songbird. Forever”

But for now, it’ll do. You’ll come around. One way or another.

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[aestrayla]

study session ft. gojo satoru

summary: you take satoru to the library to study for upcoming exams, what antics will he come up with while you’ve fallen asleep? ft. gojo satoru x f!reader

cw: SPOILERS (kind of lol), fluff, my humour, pet names (sweetheart)

word count: 0.4k

a/n: i'm currently DEFINITELY shadowbanned so hopefully this gets out to some if not anyone 😭 anyways, this is me writing about studying because instead of this i should be studying for my exams LOL

a kick to your foot had you jolted awake from your little nap, headphones halfway through playing [your fav song] and a pen stuffed between your fingers.

putting the pen back to paper, a second kick had you pulling your headphones off, brows starting to furrow.

the third, and final kick, had you shooting up from your seat, peering over the desk wall at the white haired man in front of you. the screech from your chair causing some to look your way.

“can you stop that?” you hissed, loud enough for only him to hear.

“stop what?” he replied, a dopey grin plastered to his face, clearly amused at your looming form above him.

“i was trying to study!”

“yeah right, i could hear you snoring from a mile away,” he snickered.

“fuck you, satoru,” you seethed under your breath.

“sorry sweetheart, but you weren’t responding to my texts,” he waved around his phone, the screen open to your text messages.

you peered back down to your phone and saw a flood of message notifications, all from one person.

2:26pm: samsung galaxy z flip 3: yo can u help me w this question??

2:27pm: samsung galaxy z flip 3: hello???

2:28pm: samsung galaxy z flip 3: oh so its like that??

2:30pm: samsung galaxy z flip 3: is that u snoring?? can u stop pls ppl are staring 🙄

2:31pm: samsung galaxy z flip 3: attachment: 1 image

2:31pm: samsung galaxy z flip 3: LMAOO watch this be my new lockscreen 😂😂

you look back at him, obviously annoyed and he just shrugs, clearly unbothered.

“so you gonna help me, or what?”

making your way around the rows of tables, you finally stop at satoru’s.

“so what’s the problem?” you lean over his desk, scanning through the mess of papers.

“the problem is,” he suddenly grabs you by your wrist and pulls you into his lap. you yelp in surprise, startled by his sudden moves, “i’m kinda hungry, can we go for crepes?”

you push at the desk to swerve around to face him, “crepes? seriously? i thought you said you were going to study seriously for me today!”

he pulls you closer by your waist, “please, we’ve been here for hours already. you know i need my daily sugar fix,” he pouted.

you narrow your eyes at him, eyeing his features. from his bright blue eyes to his criminally glossy lips.

“i promise i’ll study twice as hard tomorrow so, please?”

you sigh, “fine, i give up.”

a/n: who wants a part two where the problem is actually his throbbing d**k??! LOLL

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