#but that means I have to make it (and them) first.

[3liza]

part of the age-phobia that haunts millennials and gen z is our parents' fault. i only know this because my parents actively worked against it my entire childhood and now i am almost completely lacking any sort of angst related to aging. my mom inoculated me against it by approving of aging bodies. my mom told me she didn't care about her sagging breasts or gaining weight because her body had worked hard for her and fed her children and was strong and capable and beautiful. my dad said things like "you're going to be beautiful when you're 40, i cant wait to see you all grown up". neither of them worshiped youth or spoke with envy about anyone's lack of age. they both have friends who are older and younger than they are. it is actually our parents' job to do this. this is what "values" is supposed to mean, they're supposed to give us frameworks to think about and navigate life with, but the term has been so abused and is a neutral thing in the first place, people can have shit values. but yes you are actually supposed to teach your children what to think about things. and you'll end up doing it anyway so you better do it on purpose, and give them lenses through which to see the world that make them stronger and braver and more capable, not fearful and helpless. idk. the older i get the less i blame people for not having the right mental skills and the more i frown and shake my head at whoever's parents didnt teach them that they would be 50 years old one day and how to anticipate and value that process

[woso-dreamzzz]

If You Were My Little Girl II

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Things are looking up

Alexia watches from the stands.

They're mostly empty, like almost all Barcelona B matches.

Women's football has only really started picking up steam recently but only at the top flight. The lower level leagues are still having a bit of a popularity issue.

But Alexia, for once, finds that she doesn't mind.

Because it means she can sit practically alone in the stands as she watches the home match.

A notepad sits on her lap, a pen tapping against the pages thoughtfully as she watches.

Barcelona B are good and Alexia has never expected anything different. She's seen the system at work many times as La Masia churns out players like Aitana and Pina and Jana, and more recently Vicky and Martina.

There's a reason so many clubs wants La Masia products.

They're all good players but even now, Alexia can tell a great player when she sees one.

You rise up among the crowd in the box and slam the ball into the goal, the net rippling with the force of the shot.

The best part, Alexia thinks, is that you didn't even need a moment to control the ball, hitting it in on the volley and grinning as your teammates practically dogpile you.

A hattrick in ten minutes is impressive in any league and Alexia makes another note in her notebook, humming softly to herself.

She rises out of her seat at the end of the match, disappearing into the building and out the doors.

It takes another half an hour for you to appear again, hair damp and an old crew neck sweater that Alexia's pretty sure is Alba's being tugged over your head.

You slip into the passenger seat, throwing your bag into the backseat and Alexia pulls your head down to press a kiss against the side of it.

You smile shyly at her as she offers up the fries she'd bought for a job well done.

"You did good, kid," She says," Very impressive."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. But I think we're going to work on evading slide tackles next," Alexia says as she drives off," We're trying to keep those ankles of yours intact, alright? I'm going to need them this season."

You roll your eyes and Alexia clicks her tongue.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," She says," I've got a good feeling about that meeting later in the week. A great feeling, actually. You should have one too."

"I'm managing expectations."

Alexia looks at you fondly. "Well, we'll see which one of us is right in a few days."

She lets you choose the music in the car, like she always does when you've scored a goal and you pull up to the apartment a lot quicker than you want to seeing as you're in the middle of singing along to your favourite song but, still, you drag yourself out of the car and up the stairs.

"How was the match?" Olga asks as she greets Alexia with a kiss on the lips.

"She did very well," Alexia brags," A hattrick within the first ten minutes and another goal in injury time."

"Exciting," Olga says indulgently as Alexia grins, already giving her running commentary of everything that happened during the match.

You escape though, hurrying to raid the cupboards before Alexia finally comes to her senses and tries to stop you 'spoiling' your dinner.

You don't know if there's any way to thank Alexia for what she's done for you.

Just three months ago, you were convinced that you were going to quit. You had no passion for the game, no hope of what your future was going to be but now all of that had changed.

You had direction. You had a manager. You had new boots and a place to live that wasn't a group home and support and love and everything seemed to be coming together for you.

A toe pokes you in the leg.

"Move."

"Alexia says that if you're trying to nap on her sofa again then I don't have to move," You tell Alba, who huffs and pokes you with her toe again," She also says that you have your own apartment and should stop mooching of us."

"But Olga's a better cook than me," Alba complains and you roll your eyes.

"Aren't you an adult? Even I can cook."

"Yeah but it's not like you could mooch off your sist-"

Alba falls silent quickly and you pretend to not notice what she was going to say for both hers and your own sakes.

The topic of your sister is kind of off limits when you're in the room. It's not completely banned because Alexia's still Jenni's national teammate but she's not really spoken about if you're in the room.

Alba's face flashes with terror for a moment so you pretend you don't notice her slip up ever though it sends a bolt of lightning into your stomach, a deep pit forming there.

It works for the most part, everyone in the house pretending Jenni isn't who she is to you, pretending that she's just Alexia's teammate and not her friend and ex, pretending that Alexia fostering you isn't her walking on a tight rope because Jenni doesn't know.

All Jenni knows is that you didn't quit when she told you to.

Jenni doesn't know that you live with Alexia. Jenni doesn't know anything. You doubt she even thinks about you when she's got a life far away in Mexico.

She lives there, far away from you and your life here in Barcelona.

She lives there and her presence is hardly ever mentioned around you.

Life is good at Alexia and Olga's house. Life is even good at training, though you could do without the smug little smirk Alexia has on her face when she picks you up.

"You already knew!" You accuse her, waving a finger in her face.

"Knew?" She asks, lips curl up in what can only be described as pure smugness," Knew what?"

"Right, who told you? Go on. Who was it?"

Alexia grins. "You do realise I am the captain? Any time they're looking to bring someone in, they ask me my opinion."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah and I'm sure you gave it."

"You're a good player. A great player," Alexia says," All I did was tell them what they already know."

You look down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. You want to be mad at her, to yell at her for keeping this from you. Maybe even yell at her for promising to the staff something you're not but you know she hasn't done that.

If she thought you weren't ready, she would have told them that.

But Alexia didn't. She didn't tell them to let you have a bit more time with the B team. She didn't tell them that you don't quite have what it takes.

"Thanks."

Alexia smiles at you as she drives home, a comfortable silence enveloping you both until your hand is on the door handle.

You stop.

"When I open this door, there's going to be a party, isn't there?"

"I may have told Olga...who told Mami...who told Alba...who told the rest of the family..."

"Is that a yes?"

"Possibly..."

"And there's no getting out of this?"

Alexia ruffles your hair, a soft kiss being pressed to the side of your head. "They're here to celebrate you."

You suck in a breath, just ready to turn the handle when the sound of the lift doors opening chimes down the corridor.

Both you and Alexia turn your heads towards.

It's just a fleeting second.

Just a moment.

But your good mood plummets as the door opens.

Alexia's hand tightens on your shoulder, pushing you slightly behind her and putting herself between you and the elevator.

Between you and Jenni.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: I'm sorry lmaooo nine months... hopefully we can finish this thing!

You land hard, elbows hitting the ground with a jolt of pain, but it’s nothing compared to the realization that someone is screaming—Blue is screaming. The heat in your veins fizzles, your heart jolting. Ghost has already sped off toward camp, pulling a knife from his ankle, and you scramble to your feet to follow.

Your movements are clumsy, your mind replaying the last few seconds, searching for any signs of trouble you might have missed. The air is clear, the trees are quiet, the ground is still. Yet, as you weave through the tall grasses that swipe at your ankles, you finally hear it—muffled voices, unmistakably human. They grow sharper with each step you take. 

Ghost reaches camp first, stopping in a lethal stance. You roll in just behind him, eyes snapping to where Blue stands behind the fence, alive and aiming one of her dad’s rifles at four strangers. Still dressed in an oversized sleep shirt, she juts the rifle through a gap in the fortification. Two of the strangers are mounted on a brown horse, while the other two flank their sides, backs swollen with rucksacks and chests thick with gear. There is no doubt they have weapons.

"D-don't come any closer or I'll blow your heads off! I mean it!"

“We’re not here to hurt you,” one of them says calmly. A man.

“I don’t care why you’re here! You need to leave before my dad…” Her eyes flicker to you. “Dad!”

When their heads turn in your direction, you waste no time arching the knife over your head. You’re not much without your bow, but this is all you have.

In a split second, your eyes land on the burliest of the group, a man with a boonie hat and a dense, brown beard. He was the one speaking. The leader, maybe. You aim the knife for his head, but before you can throw it, Ghost grabs your wrist, wrenching you to his chest without warning, the knife falling to the ground.

"Wait," he says in your ear, his breath steady against your skin. There’s a detectable lilt of surprise in his voice. You try to squirm free, but he holds tight. "Stay here."

He lets go. Confusion reels through you. Everything in you screams to pick up the knife, but you hesitate as Ghost signals for Blue to lower the gun.

He calmly walks over to the intruders, heading to the man you were aiming for. The air feels thick as you watch with parted lips, stance still readied and breath racing. Ghost stops in front of him, and the two stare at each other strangely before the man smiles.

A strong hand reaches for Ghost’s shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, Simon.”

The clanking of metal against ceramic plates and the low murmurs of a fire fill the cabin.

Your spine presses into the wall.

There isn’t a free chair at the table, but you’re not sure you’d sit in one even if there was. Blue stands beside you, hands laced in front of her. She’s silent. You are, too. The cabin feels cramped with seven people in it. It makes your skin itch. 

You can inspect them more thoroughly now that you’re not thinking about who to kill first. 

There are two men—the older one you believe Ghost called Price, and a younger one you think he called Kyle. He’s fine-looking, you figure, underneath the overgrowth of facial hair and grime smudged on his dark skin. He had a tan cap on earlier but now a head of short, black hair is free for him to slick fingers through every now and then. Then there is a woman, some years older than you. She’s beautiful in a raw, Grecian sort of way, with long black hair and a violet undertone to her skin. Lastly, a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen. It doesn't take much to discern he is related to Kyle in some way.

They all look starving, though not as much as you once were. Nevertheless, Ghost is feeding them more than scraps. Canned beans, rice, and rabbit. They shovel it into their mouths. The men have muscles on them, so they can’t have been struggling much. Based on all the supplies they carry and the horse tied to a tree outside, you’ve figured they’ve been traveling for some time. A flurry of questions runs through your brain, but your lips remain in a tight line.

Ghost hasn’t said much yet. He hasn't even explained who they are. Your slitted eyes flicker to him. While the strangers fill up the table, he hovers beside it. His body speaks more than his expression. His shoulders are not tense and lethal as they'd been when you first sat at that table scarfing down food. But they're not relaxed, either; his arms crossed, still exposed from the black tee he'd put on for training, giving way to the slight flexes in his corded muscles that signal even he is thrown off by their presence. 

But he trusts them enough to let them in here. With the way they carry themselves, and the fact that Ghost hasn't killed them, they must've been in the military together. He doesn't seem like the type to have had normal friends. 

Kyle speaks first.

He thrums the pads of his fingertips against the wood and clears his throat, breaking your thoughts. "We were hoping you'd still be here, but it was a shot in the dark."

"I’ve never left," Ghost says, plainly.

Kyle sips from his mug and wipes his mouth, then his eyes shift toward you. You meet his gaze with a hardened look. 

"We're sorry for scaring you."

It takes a moment to realize his words aren't for you. Blue glances to her toes. "I wasn't scared." 

His lips lift. "Of course not. It's us who should've been scared of crossing paths with Simon Riley's kid. You did the right thing, you know. Protecting yourself."

"I didn't realize you knew my dad." She nibbles her lip and looks up. "My name is Blue, by the way. And this is..." Her eyes flick to you. "My friend, Twix."

Your tongue pokes your cheek as you look over the new faces. What are you supposed to say? 

"Hi," is all you settle on.

Ghost clears his throat. "Kid, why don't you clean some more water for them."

Blue nods dutifully, lingering only a second before pouring more river water into the pot over the fire.

"Thank you for your kindness. We haven't had a warm meal like this in days," the woman says kindly.

"It's a strong setup you've made for yourself," Price speaks, one hand stroking his beard while he pushes the cleared plate away with the other. He leans back, boonie hat still cradling his head and casting a shadow over his eyes, but you catch a glimpse of warm brown irises that might've comforted you in any other circumstance.

"It's lasted me this long." Ghost shifts his weight slightly. "Where are you coming from?"

"Near the base by the border, further north."

"Last I heard you were in Manchester."

"Once the radios went out, we picked up my wife," he touches the woman's shoulder, "Nereida, and Kyle's nephew here, Ari, from Newcastle. Made camp with a few others. Served us well for the past five years."

Ghost slowly nods and then drawls, "And Soap?”

Price leans his forearms on the table. "Not quite sure. The base was falling apart, but he stayed back, saying he'd meet up with us once he could. That was five years ago."

You're not sure who Soap is, someone else they worked with, maybe. There is a brief pause before Ghost asks, "Why did you leave?"

"More and more of 'em, Simon," Price replies with a slight shake of his head, emitting a low breath. "Made it difficult to even get food."

"Too many of them, not enough of us," Nereida murmurs distantly. Her hand slips under the table, out of view. You imagine it resting on Price's thigh as she leans into him with a weighted sigh. "They always seem to be moving. Not with a destination in mind, of course, but it was only a matter of time before they ruined our setup. We decided to leave before that could happen."

Kyles adds, "It wasn't an easy decision, but living in anticipation of the worst isn't really living at all."

Your brows lower. “Where exactly could you be headed that wouldn't mean living in anticipation of the worst?” you can't stop yourself from asking, the question burning in your mind. 

Price leans back, those warm brown eyes finding yours. A short heartbeat passes before he answers simply, "Switzerland."

The absurdity of that single word response forces a disbelieving, chuffed breath through your nose. Of all the things this stranger could have said, that would have to be the least expected. You anticipate an equally surprised reaction from Ghost, but he seems unnervingly unfazed. Blue, however, swivels her head from where she sits cross-legged in front of the fire.

"What the fuck is Switzerland?"

"It's another country," the boy—Ari—answers.

Blue glances between him and her dad. "Like... not in England?"

Ari snorts softly. "No, not in England. It's across the channel."

"The channel?" Blue frowns. "That's... far, isn't it?"

"Very far," Nereida confirms with a nod.

The subject is brusquely dropped when Ghost reaches for their cleared plates. "You must want to bathe while you're here. There's a river nearby."

Price clears his throat. "These two can go first." He gestures to the woman and child.

Soon enough, you become irritatingly aware of what's happening; you're being shooed away, along with the kids and Nereida, so the three of them can speak privately. There isn't much room to object as you shuffle out of the cabin, carrying a handful of rags for them to wash with along with the homemade soap that you once used to wash away the grime and earth that caked up from traveling. 

The sun beats hard, the river warmer now that spring has aged. Dried sweat clings to your spine from this morning, but bathing yourself is the last thing on your mind now, not when you're still reeling in the presence of people you don't know. You swing a glance at the cabin behind your shoulder, something in your gut twisting. Ghost doesn't want you there to hear whatever they're talking about. 

"This is a good spot," Blue says, stopping in front of a shallow part of the bank where the water is warmest. She hands Ari some soap and teeters on her toes. You realize why she keeps staring at him like that; he's probably the only other kid she's met in years. She is even more shy than when she first met you. "Twix and I will look away, don't worry."

You and Blue sit perched on a rock as they wash themselves. 

"This is weird," she admits quietly to you.

"Very," you mumble.

When they're done, you offer Nereida the only clean clothes you have at the moment: one of the oversized shirts Ghost gave you and some jeans. An annoyingly strange thought brandishes your brain... you don't like the way the black fabric sits on her bare chest, nipples poking through, and the hem hanging down to her knees as it does on you. You should've just given her the dirty blouse to wear.

She sits at the edge of the river, wringing her soaked hair with a rag. From the corner of your eye, you catch Blue helping Ari rinse his dirty clothes in the water. You want to keep an eye on him; your knife is still nestled around your ankle in case they try anything, though a woman and preteen don't heighten your paranoia as much. 

"How long have you two been together?"

Her soft voice makes you blink. "What?"

"You and Simon."

You're confused until you recall the revelation from earlier—the man you've known the past few months as Ghost, the one whose hard form laid beneath you just hours ago, is actually Simon. Simon Riley. You're tempted to say the name; try it out. But it is hard to reconcile with. It might taste strange on your tongue. The name fits a version of him that doesn't exist in this world now, you suppose. British. Simple. Like John or Kyle. The name of a lieutenant. The bits of his face you've witnessed crosses your mind; his nose, lips, and chin seem like Simon. The damn mask is Ghost, though.

"Jesus... I am not—" You shake your head, the sun even hotter on your neck. "I'm not with him like that. We're just allies." You glance back at the cabin in the distance and you fight a scowl. "If that."

She runs her fingers through ravenous tendrils. "Oh. I apologize for assuming."

You offer a small smile. "It's fine."

"How long have you been staying here then?"

"Um, a few months now. I used to stay with my sister and a friend, but they died."

Her eyes soften. "I'm sorry for your loss."

You shrug. "Everyone has lost important people."

"Doesn't make it easier," she says. "Ari's mom and younger sister used to be with us," she adds quietly with a solemn downward cast of her eyes, as if a memory has taken her for a moment. "They passed two years ago during a really rough winter along with this other couple we knew. Then it was just the four of us."

You inhale through your nose and release, frowning. "No child should have to experience that."

"No," she agrees, nodding. "They shouldn't. Which is why we're looking for a better life for him."

"And you think you'll find it in... Switzerland."

Nereida offers a half-smile, as if reading your thoughts. "We'd heard of a commune there, up in the mountains."

"A commune? Like what, a town?" 

"Sort of. Just... more people, living together. Protected. Greys make awful climbers, and the mountains there are much higher than anything in the UK."

This catches your attention, and the divot between your brows deepens. "How do you know it exists?"

"Well, we can't know for certain. John heard about it at the beginning of the spread, but it was too difficult to make arrangements at the time, especially when he had to help out at the medical site and then come find me. Things were a mess, I'm sure you remember."

"Yeah, I do." You reel in her words, thinking. "That was... years ago, though. Aren't you taking a huge risk going there now? What if nothing is there?"

"Staying in England would be a risk, too," she counters. "There is nothing here except death and hardship. You can't hide from it forever."

You look down at the water. Cicadas fill your ears, the buzzing drowning out your voice. "No, you can't."

You go on a hunt that afternoon, itching for some space to breathe. Deer tracks are harder to spot without the snow, but you find the unmistakeable marks of antlers against a tree and follow them. You glance around the forest. It feels endless and like a cage at the same time. Which way did they come from? If they made it to camp by morning, that means they spent the night here somewhere. You don't like the idea that others could be so close by, like that car.

The sun has turned orange by the time a healthy doe skirts in your peripherals. You stalk it behind an oak. An arrow flies from your bow, but you miss; the deer flees. You return in the dark empty-handed. No doubt, the visitors are fatigued, with Ghost already setting blankets across the cabin's floor for them to sleep on. You offer Ari the couch, figuring an exhausted kid needs it more than you do. He knocks out the moment he lays down.

"Here. For the night." Ghost offers you a heavy blanket and nods to the only bare spot of floor left after they've all settled down. 

You avoid his eyes and accept it. The moment he's disappeared to his room, you slip outside under the starlit night, finding the flattest patch of ground to lay the blanket down, which happens to be only a few paces away from a sleeping horse. It's not the couch, but it'll do for a night or two, and you refuse to sleep in the shed again. 

You're in the midst of standing back up after straightening out your makeshift bed when you bump into something solid. A hand grips your bicep and whirls you around, a pair of darkened eyes glowering down at you.

"What are you doing?" you breathe up at him. "I don't like when you grab me like that."

"What are you doing?" he retorts, voice low and hard.

"Trying to get some sleep."

"Out here?"

You look away and shimmy out of his hold. "Does it matter where I sleep?"

"It's not safe out here."

"You had no problem sending me out here before."

"You have since earned your keep," he mutters, as if annoyed you're even mentioning the past. 

"My spot is taken for the night by your lovely friends, so for however long you plan to let them stay, I will sleep out here."

"There is a spot on the floor for you inside."

"I'm not sleeping in there." With them. 

The whites of his eyes flash as he darts his gaze over your face. His tone softens perceptibly. A mere breath. "They won't hurt you, Twix."

You roll your eyes away from him. "I would just rather sleep out here by myself, okay? I prefer solitude at my most vulnerable. And it's not like my experiences with militant men have been pleasant so far." You keep your tone neutral, but a chill touches your spine at the memory.

Ghost emits a low huff. He suddenly rips the blanket from the ground and turns his back to you. "What are you doing?" you gape at him.

"You'll take my bed," he throws over his shoulder.

[prael]

An Oral Agreement

QWER Magenta x male reader

Masterlist word count: 3,008 Kofi(donations/commissions)

She's equal parts infuriating and fascinating.

Magenta.

No last name. Or maybe that is her last name. Either way, that's all it said on the rental agreement and her bedroom door when you first moved in: Magenta. The letters were all lowercase like she was too cool for proper grammar. You know Magenta, in the Biblical sense (and it didn’t take long).

She's always in her room streaming or recording or...doing whatever it is social media influencers do when they aren't online. But she likes candles, fried rice and catcore aesthetics. She thinks pumpkin spice season starts September 1st and she loves reality TV. Not exactly the makings of a deep and spiritual connection.

Now, living with Magenta, well, it has its ups and downs.

There are some things that never get done around here without you doing them; she rarely cooks, which wouldn't bother you so much if she at least did dishes once in a while. It doesn't help that she takes long hot showers. In a house with only one bathroom, this can really put a cramp in your morning routine.

Magenta doesn't clean the place very often either. At first, you just let it go because everybody has their own ways of doing things, right? But after a few weeks of living together, you realised that she's just...not going to do it. Like ever. So then there's nothing for it but to either live in a constant state of messiness or bite the bullet yourself.

Sometimes you feel like you're not living with a roommate so much as providing lodging for some kind of freeloading spirit that passes through periodically.

When you first moved in, you were worried about what your roommate might think of you: would they be weirded out by your habits? Would they judge your taste in decorations? Would you get along? Would you have enough space for both of you?

Those fears melted away pretty quickly once you met her. You could tell from the moment she opened the door that day (and didn't even look up from her phone) that she didn’t care.

You soon learned that Magenta is messy but friendly. She stays up all night and sleeps during the day. She's everywhere online: Instagrammer, Tiktokker (is that what they call it?), live streamer or these days she’s even on the radio and TV. She doing something for one of those things right now, with her bedroom door closed and music playing faintly behind it.

You're standing in the kitchen, staring down her latest infringement. Now, these empty take-out boxes were here this morning when you left. They were also here last night, and yesterday afternoon, and...you get where this is going.

"Hey, you awake in there?!" you shout towards her bedroom but get no response.

With a sigh, you walk over to her door and knock. Twice. Then again, louder when you still get no response. Finally, you resort to pounding on it repeatedly until it suddenly swings open to reveal your roommate shouting, "What!?" You step back, slightly taken aback by how loudly she said that single word. Her eyes soften instantly, though when they land on you.

She looks good. Not even just in a 'good for someone who hasn't slept yet today' kind of way. Just straight-up hot. Magenta wears a faded pink crop top emblazoned with an anime character and little cut-off cotton shorts covered in cookie prints. The low waistband of the shorts hangs off her hips, exposing the start of a light purple thong that cuts diagonally across her hip bones.

"I think our apartment might get condemned if you don't clean sometime soon."

Your roommate leans against the door frame. She pushes some dark brown hair behind her ear as she says, "Can't you do it for me? Just this once?"

"Just this once?" you repeat, crossing your arms. Your lips curl into a smile as you ask back to her, "Can't you do it just this once?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm always reminding you to clean, and you never do it. So guess who does it? It's not the magical cleaning fairy—it's me."

Her eyes roll skyward so forcefully you imagine you can hear them squeaking in their sockets.

"Why are you giving me such a hard time about this?" she says. "This seems really petty."

"It's not petty," you protest. "I have stuff to do and I shouldn't have to keep picking up after my adult roommate." You say the word 'adult' laden with implications. She gets your meaning immediately. Her lips twist.

"oh, I get it," she says with a smirk. "I guess it's been a while since I gave you a little thank you. Well, I need to get this video finished, so could you maybe clean it up and come back here after?"

So there's the perks. Two of them actually, as she pulls up her pink crop top and flashes you what's beneath. A pair of purple lace bra cups strain to contain your roommate's ample endowment. Pale skin pours out from beneath them, flesh squeezing together into a deep cleavage that entices you closer even as you shake your head.

"You can't keep pulling tricks like this, Magenta," you say, trying desperately to hold onto your train of thought while also enjoying the view. It helps that you know those breasts intimately. Hell, you've worshipped those breasts. They've spilt around your hands, smothered your face and laid upon your thighs. You know what the soft warmth inside each cup feels like. And, God, they feel really fucking good.

"I really appreciate your help and everything," she says, her bottom lip suddenly pushing out into a cute pout that goes well beyond suggestive. "And I'd like to show you just how much I appreciate it..."

Your resolve lasts right up until Magenta runs a finger down one of her tits to tease along the edge of the lacy purple material. That's when you give up. There's no point in fighting anymore—she has won this battle (just like all others).

"Just go finish your work already," you finally say, letting out a sigh.

Magenta smiles and giggles, lowering her shirt. "Thanks. Love ya!"

With a wink, she slips back into her room. You stand alone for several seconds before shaking your head. Back to cleaning, then.

-

It's not exactly easy to focus on sorting the recycling into the correct bins when your roommate has just reminded you how nice her tits are. They're on your mind a lot, to be honest. More than they should be probably. Sometimes they're on your cock, though not as often as they should be. Probably.

You're counting your blessings that none of the neighbours are doing late-night recycling because then you'd have to explain why your face is red and your pants are bulging.

That doesn't stop the occasional glance towards your neighbour's house, where Mrs Kim likes to smoke on her front porch some nights. You think she smokes more than she should, but that's really none of your business. Her watching you from across the street, however, is very much your business, so you peek over your shoulder once in a while to check if she's spying. Again. Or still. Whatever.

One last box. The light outside is fading rapidly, but you can just barely make out that it comes from...the Greek place you love?

Oh. Oh no. Did she eat gyros and not bring you any? Damn, that girl knows how to be cruel!

When the recycling is finally squared away you dust off your hands. It's a symbolic gesture since all you've done is shove cardboard and glass into the right bins, but it makes you feel accomplished nonetheless.

Back in the apartment and lock the door behind you.

"There you are. Where have you been?"

"The bins, have you ever seen them before?" You mock while still fiddling with the lock chain.

"That was quick," comes her response. Your eyes follow the sound of her voice. Magenta is lying upside-down on the couch. She swings her feet lazily in the air while looking at something on her phone. Her dark hair cascades nearly to the floor. Those short shorts mean you can see most of her long legs. Then there's the curve of her hip, the crease of her thigh... "Get over here."

It's a rare occasion that Magenta voluntarily puts her phone down, yet she does just that as you walk over. The closer you get, the more enticing her position becomes: laying across the couch, head tipped backwards off the cushions to watch you approach her.

"So," she says. Her fingertips brush over the exposed skin of her belly. The fingers trace lines up and across her abdomen, moving between the edge of her shorts and her top. The motion catches your eye—and she knows it. "I owe you, don't I?" Her eyelids flutter innocently. Or rather, far less than innocently.

"For today? Yeah. Definitely." You clear your throat and try again, "For quite a few days, actually."

"Quite a few," she echoes in agreement. Her hand continues to crawl upward until it reaches the peak of her breasts rising beneath her faded pink crop top. The movement presses the supple skin together in a way that has you standing right in front of her before you even realize you've walked over.

She pushes them hard together before letting them settle back to normal. Gravity spreads them apart, flesh pouring across her chest from the tightly gathered fabric keeping them barely contained. She reaches out over her head, to you, and grabs you by the belt buckle. Pulls you forward until you are stood over her. Even though she's upside down, she makes such effortless work of unbuckling the leather strap that you barely notice. One second it's on; the next it's flapping loose.

It takes only two sharp tugs to force your pants and boxers down past your knees. Magenta doesn't waste any time reaching out to touch your cock, gently running her hands over it until she can wrap her entire hand around the warm shaft and pull you until you fall to your knees. Her head hangs right in front your your length, and you see the teasing sparkle in her eye even upside down.

Her hot breath hits the skin of your bare cock. Lips press a series of soft, wet kisses down from your tip towards your balls. Then back up again, trailing even more tiny pecks that leave your skin tingling. You let your cock nudge against her cheek, feeling it slide along the smooth skin.

With both hands wrapped around your cock, Magenta holds your tip right in front of her mouth. Her tongue sticks out from between her lips, slowly, methodically lapping circles around the crown of your cock.

"Oh, God," you mutter, and you need to hold onto something, anything. First, it's the couch, then it's her tits.

Your hand lands heavily atop the nearest swell of flesh and squeezes tight, pushing it further out of her crop top. She hums approvingly at the groping and wraps her lips around your cockhead. Suckles sweetly. Slurps noisily until spit pools at the corner of her stretched lips.

She lets gravity help guide your cock into her waiting mouth. The further you slip inside, the more she relaxes her jaw to accept you. But then she reaches up and pulls on your hips. You glide up against her grateful tongue. Until her nose meets your stomach. She gags. It's so fucking lewd.

The whole thing makes you squeeze her chest harder. So big in your palm and yet somehow always bigger than you remember. You forget sometimes just how incredible these tits are. When they bounce in a video she's recorded, you remember—but never quite how heavy they are when you hold them; the way they give to your grasp in exactly the right amount; or the way her nipple puckers just slightly as it stiffens beneath your kneading grip.

"You're so sexy like this," you say.

The compliment elicits an appreciative groan from Magenta. Her head moves with your hips now, bobbing to meet each thrust, spit dripping down her cheeks. The messiness of the sloppy blowjob matches her other personality traits frighteningly well.

With her head pinned and her arms on you, you're free to pull up her shirt and expose her. The dirty minx has taken off her bra, so the expanse of her milky skin greets you. You cup them in each palm, feeling the heft of them, squeezing them greedily. They push back, moulding into the shape of your desire, and she moans, a low guttural note vibrating right through your length.

Her body writhes beneath your attention. Her thighs spread outwards, feet rolling at the ankle in time with each gently guided thrust into her throat. Fingers squeeze you, scratching lightly at the skin above your ass to encourage you deeper inside her hungry maw. Deeper into her throat until she chokes—

You let up, panting, admiring the sight of her stretched out for your viewing pleasure. Her eyes flutter open, looking up at you from her upside-down position. The intensity in them draws you in again.

"Oh shit," you groan as you drive into her, plunging your cock balls deep until her purple-painted nails dig into the small of your back. You pump faster, lost in the warm embrace of her greedy sucking.

Magenta squirms beneath you, whining and groaning and bucking, begging you for more. Her cunt must be throbbing with anticipation. Poor thing wants your cum. You can tell.

You want her tits.

She gasps when you fully withdraw from her mouth. Her face is a fucking mess of saliva and smudged makeup. Before she can question you, you reposition yourself in front of her, straddling her beautiful face as you lower your rigid length between her breasts.

She's quick to pick up what you're putting down. With both hands pressing the creamy flesh of her boobs inward, she creates a tunnel for you to slide your dick into.

It feels as good as it looks. Soft pressure envelops your slick length, wrapping around the sensitive skin and creating a delightful sleeve for you to hump into. You can't get enough.

As soon as you hit a good pace, fucking your roommate's chest hard and fast, she starts giggling.

"What?" you ask.

"It tickles." Her laugh is breathy but not as loud as it usually is. "Keep going."

So you do. Thrust after thrust you plunge deeper, drawing more and more of yourself into the valley between her perfect tits. The more you use her, the further she parts her legs that run up the back of the sofa. Soft thighs splayed for nothing but display. Then, just as you start to admire them, she clenches them together. Your eyes trace down the pale skin until they arrive at her crotch where the bottoms of her cookie-patterned shorts have ridden up against her wet slit. She's gyrating her hips in all sorts of directions and rubbing herself against the material in some attempt to satiate her growing needs.

The soft flesh of her midriff jiggles between the thrusting into her tits and the twisting of her hips below. You can't stop staring. Fuck. How does this girl have every single curve?

At first, you try holding back—you want this to last longer. But after a few seconds, you realize you can't fight this feeling. Not when you've got such a good view. And certainly not with her nipples so hard under the press of your thumbs. She arches up when you pinch them, and you know you're done for.

And then, as if she can feel it by the way you're thrusting, she begins to coo and beg under you. She knows she's getting you close, and she wants it. Bad.

"Cum on me," she coaxes sweetly, the words barely audible over the slapping sounds. "I've been so bad, baby. You deserve to paint my body."

That's all it takes. That final little plea. Your eyes roll back, your hips snap forward and your cock explodes. Thick ropes over her body, the first reaching her thighs before you adjust your aim and finish across the plane of her belly. Soft curves take your load while she encourages you through soft, little pleasured mewls. You may have got some on her shorts, but you paint her stomach white before pulling up and jerking the final drops onto her chest.

"Mmmm, messy boy," Magenta laughs breathlessly as your cum drips down her curves. She lays there beneath you, her smile wide and wickedly innocent, one hand slowly running circles over the sticky mess on her tummy, smearing it across her skin.

After a few seconds of panting and trying to gather yourself, you climb off of her and sit back against the couch. She turns so her head rests in your lap, facing your spent and dripping length. Magenta teases you still by using her own fingertip to collect your seed and place it across her lips, then licking them clean while making sure you're watching. And fuck are you ever.

"So, about my room," she purrs, eyes twinkling mischievously up at you.

"What about it?"

"Well... It needs cleaning, and I was thinking—"

"No," you feign protest, knowing you've already agreed. "Just clean it yourself." Her negotiation will come next. You can see it on her lips. "I'm not doing it."

Magenta leans up and whispers, "But you might change your mind if you find out what's waiting for you beneath my shorts."

That damn purple thong, still visible at her waistband, calls you toward her like a beacon. "What's beneath your shorts?"

Her laugh is playful. A little shrug as her fingers toy at the hem of the garment in question. "Agree to clean my room and you’ll find out."

[ddejavvu]

so i absolutely love the best friend james potter fic where he warms his hands between the reader’s thighs and the idea of him having really bad circulation just makes sense to me, so can we get a technically kinda part two but instead of between the readers thighs it’s that portion of underboob that just heats up so much for no reason whatsoever? 🙇🙇🙇

Sirius's canine form requires him to get at least twelve hours of outdoor time per week, but during the winter months it becomes a chore delegated to the least lucky of the group: take Padfoot for a walk.

"Please, Jamie?" You'd leveled James with puppy eyes that rivalled Sirius himself, and now two sets of footprints lay in the snow beside pawprints that wind around them in happy trails.

"It's bloody cold out here." James comments, like your own nose isn't burning from the temperature, "Sirius, can't you piss on trees faster?"

Padfoot, who greatly resents the tree-pissing stereotype, takes a snapping lunge at James's ankles that sends him careening into you from your left.

"James!" You shriek as your feet and his knock clumsily together, all four united in trying to stabilize you. His arm wraps around your waist and he finds his footing first, which means that you're supported by his grip as you find your own. You find yourself inches away from his face, his nose stained red akin to his cheeks as you both laugh at how you've ended up pinned to a tree in the forest. Sirius barks at you, sounding suspiciously giddy, and James drags his hands off of your back, trailing them over your stomach as he goes.

"Gonna put a muzzle on you for that one, mutt." James threatens Sirius, who dashes off to find a stick or lick a toad or whatever else his dog brain fancies at the moment. You're left trailing beside James once again, wishing that you had your own stick to drag through the snow.

"You were really warm," James reminisces, his hands surely going numb, "Like- your stomach?"

"It's my boobs," You snicker, "No matter how cold a girl gets, the space beneath her tits will always be warm."

"Really?" James peers curiously at you, "That's cool. It's like a life hack."

"Right. It's-" You stick a hand guilelessly beneath your shirt, nestling it beneath the curve of your bra, "It's not, like, sweaty or anything. Just warm."

"Fascinating." James pushes his glasses up his nose with a single outstretched finger, "Wish I had some of those."

"You can borrow mine," You concede, taking James's hand in your own and sliding it up your stomach until his hand is leeching off of the same warmth you'd felt only seconds prior, "Feel it?"

His jaw drops, one of his unruly curls bouncing stubbornly in front of his face.

"Darling, you weren't kidding! It's like an oven in here." He hums, his other hand greedily reaching for the excess space beneath your chest, "Oh my god, if I had this I'd never stop touching it."

When Padfoot returns it's to James pressing you against another tree, hands pressed firmly to the space beneath your tits. He charges for James determinedly, latching his teeth around the man's elbow and pulling with all of his might to separate his friend from you.

"Pads- ouch! She's- relax, Fido, she's let me. I'm warming my hands, thank you very much."

James manages to pry Padfoot's maw off of him, hissing at the skin surely bruised beneath his thick wool coat.

"It's alright, Sirius." You rub sweetly between the dog's ears, "His hands were cold, that's all. Don't want to bring him back to the castle with less than ten fingers."

Sirius's resulting growl towards James sounds suspiciously like he's going to lose fingers anyways, whether it be from frostbite or a dog's bite.

[defmaybe]

Lotus Eater

aespa’s Yoo Jimin/Karina, Jo Yuri x Male Reader

1.4k words

Inspired by FINNEAS' Lotus Eater

“A few things before we start,” Yuri says groggily.

The dim light from the living area casts into the room. It’s nighttime, and the three souls in this room are drunk.

“This doesn’t mean”–Jimin lets out a loud burp, stopping Yuri in her tracks. She turns to her–“would you be fucking quiet for a second, Jimin?”

Jimin lets out a childish giggle, unable to control herself under the influence of alcohol.

“God, as I said”–Yuri adjusts her crumpled shirt a little, it doesn’t help much, really–“this doesn’t mean anything, alright?”

You profusely nod. Kissing any of the two in the hallways isn’t an appropriate thing to do, anyway. So, just hi-s and hello-s in the classes, that’s all. Hell, you’d even trade an arm to get a chance with any of these women.

“Just waving to each other and smile, and that’s enou–”

“I wanna kiss you so bad, baby,” Jimin says with another stupid chuckle, before pulling you into a deep kiss. Her breath smells like alcohol, so is yours—cannot complain. Her tongue invades your mouth aggressively, and you have to do your best to keep quiet—the room next to you might wake up if you scream.

“Bloody hell,” says Yuri. Poor, poor Yuri, always has to put up with her friend’s naïve antics, and it gets worse under intoxication. Waking up in other men’s (or women’s) rooms isn’t a far-fetched concept for Jimin. At least once a week, she finds herself away from this room in the morning.

You sign an OK for Yuri, just hi-s and hello-s, no kissing, no strings attached. You’re too drunk and too busy having your mouth locked with Jimin.

On the edge of your vision, Yuri takes off her blouse in a quick motion, revealing her pert breasts covered in a white lace bra, and you have to stop the kiss immediately, making Jimin groan in frustration, as you gawk at the sight of Yuri.

“Fucking whore,” she says, clearly unimpressed with your behavior.

“Yuri! Don’t scold him!” Jimin says with a pout while you chuckle at the banter.

“I mean, I get to fuck, Yuri. Call me names, I don��t care,” you answer Yuri with a smirk. It’s like you’d care about this, anyways.

Yuri can’t help but laugh. “Alright, you slut, let’s just get it done.”

She then pulls you into another deep kiss. Unlike Jimin (who is now lying still on the bed, watching you two), hints of cherries remain on Yuri’s lips. Automatically, your hands go onto her covered firmness, and she lets out a moan into your mouth. You can feel her shallow breaths.

“F–Feels so good, baby,” Yuri says muffledly.

“No feelings involved–mm–remember?”

“Baby means shit–mmm–you man-whore,” she deflects.

“Thanks, babe.”

You can hear Yuri giggling into your mouth, as her hands start to reach the strap of her bra behind her back. It falls off so easily, as you’re trying your best to not pull back from this kiss and stare at her tits.

“Guys, ugh”–Jimin then gets up, before taking off her oversized t-shirt, revealing the chest that her bra is doing its best to hold–“I wanna join!”

Yuri pulls off from the kiss, and you whimper in frustration. You try to kiss her again, but she raises her hand up to stop you. “Wait for Jimin, baby.”

“Ugh, fine.”

You take off your shirt, waiting for Yuri to unclasp Jimin’s top garment. Your upper body becomes bare in front of the two drunk women, and you hear a clicking sound.

There it is, Jimin’s breasts, all for you to see. She bites her nails shyly, as if this is her first time doing this. She’s gorgeous, but so is Yuri. You’re lost in the body of these two women. Your length is throbbing in your pants, so you quickly take them off. Your cock springs free from the fabric cage, as Yuri and Jimin both gawk at the sight.

“Looks good, baby,” Jimin says with a chuckle. Her hand is snaking under her sweatpants. You can see the circular movement under them.

“C–Can I suck it?” Yuri asks, intimidated by the length.

“Uh, sure.”

Without another word, Yuri dives onto your cock eagerly, creating a suction with her mouth. Again, you’re doing your best to not let out a moan that would wake up the neighbors. On the other side, Jimin is rubbing her clit, whimpering at the sight. Her breaths come out in shallow pants.

“Y–Yuri, fuck.”

Yuri only chuckles on your cock. With each bob of her head, she takes in your length longer and longer. You moan rapidly as the sensation grows on your cock. She knows how to make you moan. She’s so damn good at this.

“Babe, please fuck my cunt, please,” Jimin says from your right, as she hastily take off her pants, revealing her glistened cunt under the dim light.

“I–I only have my fing–”

“Please, I beg you,” Jimin pleads, so eager to have you stuffing her cunt with your digits.

Yuri gets off your cock. “Just fucking do it, babe, relieve her.” Before she goes down with her mouth again.

“O–Okay.” You then, slowly, insert your trembling fingers into her wet cunt. Her tightness grips you like a vice. She moans. Her breasts heave up and down with her shaky breaths. Jimin’s hands fight for purchase on the bed sheets.

“Fuck!” Jimin screams. Yuri quickly brings her hand to close her mouth, not wanting to wake the neighbors up. Her mouth is still adeptly giving you the suction you need.

You dive into her deep, before flicking your fingers up onto the upper wall of her cunt. Jimin wails. 

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, fuck, I’ve never cum this fast in my li–”

Jimin cums, hard. Her cunt sprays gushes clear liquid onto the bed sheets. They’re going to have to wash them tomorrow. Her whole body shakes and writhes, and she screams in ecstasy.

She then collapses onto the bed, chest heaving, panting. Yuri pulls off your cock, watching her friend lying happily on the bed, eyes fluttering.

“That’s quite–something,” says Yuri. “Use that whore mouth of yours, make me cum.”

You nod sheepishly, before laying down on your side, just beside the panting Jimin. Yuri’s facing your throbbing length, while you’re facing her wet cunt. She’s fucking aroused as you are.

“Ready?” Yuri asks.

Without a word, your tongue dives onto her cunt, tasting that sweet nectar you’ve been craving. Yuri is caught off guard with a whimper, struggling to contain her resolve for a blink of an eye. Still, she finds the rhythm, before diving onto your cock in the same fashion, eager to drink that divine syrup of yours.

You eat her cunt like there’s no tomorrow, lapping up the juices off the slit. Wet sounds of the oral misdeeds fill the room. You can hear Jimin moaning from behind again. She’s going for round two. She pulls your hand onto her tired hole, and you reply with a plunge into her slit. A moan leaks out of her mouth.

You can feel Yuri’s thighs clench. She’s close. You keep lapping up her juice profusely. Her breaths become more shallow. On the other side, Jimin is also going to cum. Her breathing and Yuri’s are in sync.

Your fingers’ movements become more erratic. You’re close too. That feeling is building up in your loins. You’re going to cum into Jo Yuri’s mouth, with your tongue on her puffy cunt, and your fingers inside Yoo Jimin.

“Y–Yuri, I–I’m gonna cum.”

Yuri signs a thumbs up to you, giving you the permission to cum in her mouth. Your breathing syncs with Jimin’s and Yuri’s. You’re all going to cum together. Fuck, this is a fucking heaven.

And your dam breaks. Jimin gushes liquid onto your dirty hands, wailing in ecstasy. Her body shakes and trembles. Your whole frame jerks into Yuri’s mouth, unloading spurts of cum down her throat. And Yuri cums with you, spraying clear nectar into your man-whore mouth. You three revel in the high. Nothing can come close to this.

“Shit,” Yuri says, breathing still out of rhythm.

“Yeah, shit,” you reply. And you hear Jimin burps again, bringing out laughs from all of you.

“Are we doing this again?” you have to ask.

“Fuck, yes, definitely,” Jimin replies.

“Well, maybe,” Yuri adds.

—

[chestersturniolo]

special candy

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader x Chris Sturniolo

Summary; you unknowingly eat some of dealer!matt & dealer!chris’ “special candy” whilst they’re out on their runs..

warnings; chratt poly relationship dynamic! if you are not comfortable with this, do not read // drug use (ofc) , pet names, tripping out (ish) — based on this request

Matt and Chris were currently out handling business, leaving you to your own devices for a couple of hours. As hunger creeps in, you lug yourself off of the couch to scrounge the kitchen, you spot a bag of gummies on the kitchen counter. You don’t think twice. You grab one, then two, then three- before you know it, you’ve polished off almost the entire bag.

You return to the couch, sinking into the cushions, opening your book back up. A chunk of time goes by before things start to feel…strange. Your breathing feels too deliberate, manual even, like you have to focus on every inhale and exhale. Your stomach churns, and time becomes a bizarre concept- minutes feel like hours, or maybe it’s the other way around. The words in the pages of your book start to morph. You squeeze your eyes shut to refocus them, trying to control your breaths and ignore this abnormal feeling.

A small while later you hear front door open, footsteps echoing up the stairs. Matt is the first to reach the living room. He spots you on the couch, grinning as he makes his way over. “Hey sweetheart” he says, cupping your cheek with a gentle hand.

You skip the usual greeting as you jut your lip out “I don’t feel well” you whine, eyes glossy.

Matt frowns, sitting down next to you, “Ah what’s wrong, baby?” he coos, frowning with concern, before brushing a soft kiss to your lips. The moment his lips leave yours, his expression shifts. His eyes widen. “You taste like…blue raspberry” His voice is slow, laced with panic. He grips your jaw, coaxing your mouth open “Fuck” he mutters under his breath, as his eyes land on your bright blue tongue.

Just in time , Chris reaches the top of the stairs, a couple of duffle bags he had retrieved from the trunk slung over his shoulder. Matt stands abruptly,marching over to him “Where the fuck did you leave that batch, Chris?!”

Chris blinked, confused “On the counter…?” he shrugs casually. The confusion lasts only a second until Matt flails his hands toward you. Chris’s eyes widen, and the duffel bags drop to the floor with a thud. He hurries over, crouching down in front of you, hooking a finger under your chin to inspect you

You blink at him slowly, your eyes heavy lidded “I’m sorry I ate your candy..i was hungry-“ you mumble “-I’ll buy you more, I promise!”

Chris ran a hand over his face, “No, you don’t understand, that was special candy, kid. Product!”

From the kitchen, Matt’s voice was frantic “She ate most of them!” he says, as he holds up the bag in the air , a couple of stray blue bears at the bottom. He chucked it down on the counter as he comes back to the couch, raking a hand through his hair.

Panic welled up inside you, your breathing growing shallow. “I-I didn’t mean to…Is this really bad?- am I gonna die?” fear in your voice

In that moment, the boys realise that they need to push their own freaking out aside and help you ride this out. Matt immediately sat beside you, placing his hand on your cheek “No, hey, listen to me - don’t panic, okay?” He shot a glare at Chris, who was pacing now, before turning back to you. “I need you to relax, baby. Talk to me, what are you feeling?”

Tears welled up in your eyes “Time is moving really…slow..and I feel like I’m tingly,and in..in bubble wrap” you pause for what feels like an hour “don’t feel good Matt” Your voice cracked, and you clung to him, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

Chris lets out a big sigh before rummaging through the duffel bags, pulling out a bag of identical blue gummies. Matt’s eyes narrowed “The fuck are you doin’?”

Chris muttered, more to himself than anyone else “Shit’s my fault” He looked at you, guilt in his eyes. “You’re gonna be fine, okay? Look, I’m gonna do it with you” he says in a reassuring voice before quite literally shovelling them into his mouth.

The batch wasn’t majorly strong, but since you barely ever used substances, it was hitting you hard. He knew that taking them wouldn’t put him on the same level as you, considering his tolerance was worlds apart from yours, but he also knew that you seeing him doing so, would calm you down

And it worked, as you watched him chew, you felt a sense of reassurance, knowing you’re not alone in it.

~

Matt had tucked you into a blanket, you were sinking deeper into the couch as the initial waves of panic began to subside. The room felt both too quiet and too loud, and it was almost like you could hear the air bouncing around the room. The lights seemed brighter, and everything felt far away. Each breath still felt like work.

Matt stayed close, his arm wrapped protectively around you. His hand moved in slow circles over your back,. “Just keep breathing with me, okay?” He took exaggerated deep breaths, guiding you. “In…and out, that’s it”

You tried to mimic him, but it felt like your body wasn’t quite yours “Matt…it’s weird, everything’s weird” you whispered,

Chris knelt in front of you, resting his hands on your knees “Listen to me ma, you’re okay..this is just the gummies messin’ with you, i feel it too” he bluffed. He barely felt a thing…and although he hated lying, in times like these, a little comforting white lie never hurt anyone,right?

“It’ll pass, I promise” he continues , reaching for your hands, holding them firmly “squeeze my hand when it feels too much, yeah?” he says, taking a seat on the other side of you. You nod, holding onto his hands for dear life.

Matt glaced at Chris, silently communicating something before standing and heading into the kitchen. You watched him leave, slight panic flaring again “Where’s he going?” you ask, your eyes trained on him. Chris cupped your face, forcing you to look at him “He’s just getting you some water angel, you need to stay hydrated. Focus on me, okay?” His eyes searched yours, softening as he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

Matt returned moments later with a glass of water and a damp cloth. He sat back down in his spot beside you, pressing the cloth to your forehead, before guiding the glass of water to your lips “Small sips”

You took a few hesitant sips, the icy water doing wonders for your cotton mouth. You push the glass away after a few more sips before huffing, “It feels like…like I’m floating” you whispered, blinking slowly.

Matt set the water down on the coffee table, and his hand falls to your thigh “You’re on solid ground, baby. Feel the couch under you? Feel my hand?” he says, giving a small squeeze to your leg. He guided your hand to the blanket, letting you feel its texture. You nod slowly, playing with the soft fluff.

He pressed a kiss to your temple before glancing at Chris, nodding toward the TV “Put something on, something light”

Chris grabbed the remote, flicking through channels until he landed on a nature documentary. The calming voice of the narrator filled the room “This should help” he shrugs, glancing back at you.

You watched the screen, the vivid colors too bright, too intense “It’s…too much” you mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut.

Chris quickly turned the lights off, and turned the volume down “Better?”

You nodded, letting yourself get lost in the life of a polar bear.

~

As the initial anxiousness faded, a different sensation took over. Your stomach growled loudly, breaking the quiet. You glanced up at Matt, with hazy puppy dog eyes “I’m…really hungry”

Matt exchanged a glance with Chris, a hint of amusement softening their worry “The munchies” Chris murmured, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Matt chuckled, pulling out his phone “Alright baby,what do you want? We’ll get you whatever you need”

“Everything” you pleaded , pulling a chuckle from them both.

Within minutes, they had food on the way-pizza, burgers, fries, ice cream. Chris disappeared into the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards and returning with snacks..chips, cookies, anything he could find. He handed you a bag of chips, watching you carefully. You practically snatched them from him

You crunched on them, eyes widening in delight. “These are the best chips I’ve ever had” you mumbled around a mouthful, crumbs falling onto the blanket.

Chris laughed softly, as he settled back in beside you, brushing them crumbs off your lap “Glad you’re feeling a little better” he smiled as he noticed a crumb on the corner of your mouth, reaching his thumb to wipe it off “pretty girl”

~

They stayed close,both planted either side of you. Whenever a random wave of strange feelings hit, they were there, talking you through it, grounding you.

Eventually the food arrived, they set everything up on the coffee table, letting you pick at whatever you wanted. It was the best meal you’d ever had, everything tasted like magic. You’d even lathered some ice cream on a pizza slice, making the most disgustingly delicious concoction. Matt and Chris watched you in awe.

Once you’d finished your food, and your belly was fulll, exhaustion set in. Your head drooped onto Chris’ shoulder, your eyes heavy. “M’tired” you mumbled.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head as Matt reaches and pulls the blanket over you further “Sleep sweetheart, we’ve got you”

It was seconds before you drifted off, feeling like the couch was swallowing you in its comfort. Every few minutes, Chris leaned in, carefully checking on your breathing, his ear close to your slightly open mouth.

Now you were asleep, Matt took the opportunity to scold his brother further ,, “Never leave our fuckin’ shit out again y’hear me?” he said with a stern look

Chris let out a big sigh, letting his head fall back with a guilty look, before nodding “Lesson learned bruh”

dividers - @strangergraphics-archive

AN; thankyou so much for the request anon! i had so so much fun writing this!! i included some of my personal “trips” in here lmao.

hope y’all enjoyed! - 𝑺𝒂𝒈𝒆 ♡

MASTERLIST LINKED HERE

[dwaekkicidal]

Oh my god I beg for some mean skz smut 😔😔

hmmmm ok but what are we thinking for the hyung line?

is it about meanie channie who snaps after you slut yourself out in the studio when staff was in there- along with the rest of 3racha who you know has a little crush on you hehe. he barely waits for them to walk out the door before shoving you towards the door, forcing you to lock it before shoving his cock into you while you're pushed up against the door- mind you with minimum prep because "You don't deserve it. after that shit." his cock is soooo much thicker like this!!!! >.< and he manages to make his thrusts prove his anger? hips smacking into yours so harshly that it feels like the soundproof door isn't enough to drown any sounds out

what about brat tamer minho who forces you to sit between his legs and watch him jerk himself off? you have a pretty little vibrator thats connect to your clit and your g-spot simultaneously, and he has the controls on his phone that rests in his free hand. he fucks with the controls so much... maybe even teasing u by drawing his full name- in english AND korean- before setting it to the highest setting and leaving it like that until you're cumming at least 3 times.

my sweet binnie who's only mean if you beg him to be or if you reaaaaally push his buttons- maybe throw in a dig or two about how theres another man out there thats better than he is (spoiler: theres literally negative of them). your punishment (reward) is always the same! one of those those sexy ass arms around your neck and squeezing as he fucks into you so roughly that your whole body is jumping forward, your moans cutting off from how aggressive he gives it to you!!!

ok but what about lover boy hyunjin who is actually one of the meanest doms you have ever seen, 99% of the time it being unprompted as well??? the first time you push him to get rough in bed, you're in for ittt~ he ties your wrists up and connects you to the hook in the ceiling, leaving just enough rope for you to be on your tippy toes (also the same hook he previously told you was for painting... yeah, my fucking ass) and speaking of asses, yours is sooo sore from the big handed smacks he leaves there >< he'll always stop if you want it, but otherwise he has no plans to until you submit to him completely <3

whats on the menu for the maknaes today?

definitely munch hannie who ties you up with the most random shit that works- any ties he has laying around, your panties, and sometimes he'll straight up rip his shoelaces out for it?? but it's all so that he can show off the shibari he secretly learned- the main one being a series of knots that tie your arms to a leg each, forcing you wide open for him all the while he eats. and what a messy fucking eater!!! your last 3 orgasms worth of cum dripping down his jaw as he nibbles at your sensitive spots <3

"angel boy" felix me thinks.. who makes you fuck yourself onto him in doggy, refusing to put any effort because he's the "angel" who deserves to be worshipped (yes but...) if you falter even slightly or move to his disliking, you're getting a series of mean smacks- ones that leave a pretty little heart shape in its wake from the pretty pink paddle he insisted on buying (OR HIS INITIALS IF HE GETS A CUSTOM PADDLE OMFFF)

ohhhh but owner seungmin who fucks your brains out with a pretty little collar around your neck <3 (maybe even one also with his initials engraved hehe) he tugs at it to fuck you back onto him, not even need a leash when he slides his finger through one of the loops. huffs and puffs about how tight you are while he actively works to make you tighter, from squeezing your legs together to overstimulating the hell out of you all the while he disallows himself to cum for as long as he can handle, all so when he finally busts theres so much and its all getting fucked right back into you

and god... toy fiend jeongin... the second you let him know you're ok with toys being brought into the bedroom, you're almost regretting everything!!! he's SO fucked up about it >:( he keeps one of those big hands around your throat while the other slides a vibrator as deep into you as it physically can go without causing you pain... and when you squirm around and your legs squeeze together, he's either digging his fingers into your thigh to push them apart or he's biting whatever he's closest to- your thighs, your calf, your shoulder, or (his favorite) your nipples <3

hnnnnng....

Taglist (red=can’t be tagged):

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed @moonlightndaydreams

@aeri-skzver

[rafesbangs]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ frat!rafe decides to participate in no nut november, you disappove... strongly.

summary: in leu of it being november... rafe and his buddies (idiotically) challenge each other to nnn and you do your best to make your boyfriend lose because you cant stand the stupid juvenile game.

warnings: MDNI ! 18+ ! no nut november. male testosterone (ew), fratboy idiocy, topper and kelce (ew), spoiler! unprotected sex, hj, size kink, strong language, use of the nickname 'rafey' and 'baby' (bcs when do i not), kinda mean!rafe ?, kinda plot, kinda smut... yay!

wc: 2k

a/n: hoping this will get me out of my writers block... (its really bad) but tbf i just moved into my new apartment !yay! so hopefully when i'm not tired as hell and feeling broke from the deposit, i'll write regularly again <3

you had tolerated a lot of stupid shit that rafe and his idiot friends would get up to when they were together. especially when they were together, drunk and unsupervised. last night was the same as any other, but your boyfriend, topper and kelce had concocted an idea that put most other idiot ideas they've had to shame.

of course topper birthed the idea in the first place, he wasn't currently getting some anyway. his girlfriend, whom you actually found to be super bitchy, had just dumped him for some older dude that had dropped out long ago. everyone tried to tell him he was better off without ruthie because of how much of a raging cunt she was but he just decided to make his miserable attitude everyone's problem, leading to this stupid bet.

you can easily surmise how it came to be, one too many beers and topper starts talking about how he's better than kelce and rafe because he's not getting any and he can 'handle it like a man'. whatever that means. of course kelce and rafe in their drunken stupor don't enjoy their masculinity being threatened, so all reason goes out the window and they all bet each other $100 they can do no nut november.

the next morning of course, your boyfriend instantly realised what a stupid fucking idea it was the second he saw you making breakfast for the two of you in just panties and one of his t-shirts. he wanted to take you right there on the kitchen floor of your apartment but he couldn't. it's not like he didn't have 100s to spare, he just didn't want to back out of the bet so early and embarrass himself in front of his frat brothers.

though you would argue that the bet itself is doing a lot of embarrassing him on its own. when he had begrudgingly rejected three advances you'd made towards him, you finally caught on.

instead of smacking him 'round the head like you wanted to, you came up with a much better idea that unfortunately for rafe consisted of him losing $100 but consisted of you actually getting laid this month. because fuck that noise, you didn't agree to involuntarily joining in on no nut november.

you began to walk around in your best lingere, with one of his big t-shirts on too, though that definitely only turned him on more. next was wearing tiny pieces of clothing that left little to the imagination whilst always putting yourself in compromising situations; dropping things in front of him, getting 'stuck', spilling things on yourself... basically anything because if he was gonna do something stupid then you were gonna make him reap the consequences.

it was late at night when he'd finally had enough. a huge exam was looming and he'd had no proper way to let off steam for almost the entire month, you 'whoring' around the apartment didn't help either. so when you'd slipped into bed in one of your best lacey sets with a glossy smile, he'd just scowled at you before grabbing you and pressing his lips to yours hungrily.

"you're such a fucking slut" he growled between your lips, his hands desperately gripping wherever they could on your body. you were sat pressed up against the headboard of your bed, thighs haphazardly spread with his body forced between them. you didn't reply, just smiled and groaned into the rough kisses.

he parted his lips from yours and grabbed your throat roughly with one of his hands, anger but also desperation was seeping from his expression. you were, admittedly, a little afraid. rafe would never purposely hurt you but, he was extremely built and towered over you, though rough sex was kinda your thing.

you almost shook off the slight fear in your face before smiling at him again, realising you'd already won. this was a point of no return, the way he was biting his bottom lip in frustration, the heavy breathing in an attempt to control himself, he had unraveled already.

without a word he hooked a finger under your panties and yanked them down forcefully, you giggled at the action and helped him pull them off from around your ankles. he shook his head before kissing down your stomach, he knew you'd won and he'd given into you, that he'd be surrendering a crisp $100 to his asshole friends.

but a smirk stretched across his face as he tugged his pants down too in front of you, "you won baby, i lost no nut november.."

you grinned proudly as you lay back, your legs spread waiting for him to slowly sink his length into you.

in one swift motion, his arm slid under the small of your back as his huge cock plowed all the way into your sopping pussy, "- but we'll see who's really winning when you can't walk tomorrow." an evil smile was strewn across his face now as he mercilessly snapped his hips against yours, ignoring your cries at how he was too big.

he wasn't a complete asshole, he knew your pussy would relax around his length and soon you'd grasp around his neck, moving your hips in sync with his.

rafe hadn't realised just how pent up he was until he felt himself nearly coming undone multiple times, the way you were tightly squeezing around his dick didn't help either.

his eyebrows were permanently stitched together as his hands dug into your hips, still ploughing deep into you.

"fuck baby, fuuckk baby. this pussy loves me s'much huh? couldn't jus' let me be forra single month." his tip kissed your cervix multiple times and you could've cum a number of times, but vowed to not give in before him as you could feel his strokes becoming increasingly sloppy.

his face screwed up and he let his bangs hang messily over his face, not bothering to run a hand through his hair anymore. he was about to spill into you, and you were unravelling too, "you about to come in me rafey? please, fuck- give it to me-"

his eyes rolled back at your words, finally slowing he painted your crimson walls with thick ropes of cum, groaning gutturally the entire time.

"fucking hell. that creampie was just worth $100 baby." he scoffed, shaking his head a little, "'nd it was worth every fuckin' dollar." he half-collapsed on top of you, kissing your forehead, all while still inside of you.

"you'd better go tell topper and kelce then" you grinned mischievously.

[dilf-docs]

All Roads Lead To Rome

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your boyfriend swears he isn't annoyed at your little surprise visit on the set of gladiator II; you might have to help him release his anger, one way... or another.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (BARK BARK BARK), smut, p. in v., bit of exhibition kink cause they fuck on his trailer, he swears he's mad but he just wants head, oral (m. receiving), he also uses his armor and skirt while at it bc its hot and not bc i totally want that to happen to me or smth!!!, brat taming, orgasm denial, breeding and daddy kink lowkey, i'm so down bad for him so there's fluff!!! + pedro being whipped cause that's exactly what i want in my men, the cast makes cameos bc i love them!!! use of spanish (i'm latina so don't even try me), pedro wearing a skirt tehee

word count: 3,519 words

side note: i'm about as FERAL and horny as much as one could be!!! damn u pedro, making me walk out in the middle of class and walk on foot to the nearest theather for an early gladiator II screening (bc they're cheaper and i'm a jobless broke student lmao) that mind u it's my first solo trip to the movies but it's okay!!!! nobody interrupt me on my horny dilf hours amirite I TELL U that cinema was almost empty: just me, pedro and hey there's a spot if u wanna join mescal (look at my blog banner IYKYK) so yeah!!!! enjoy this porn lovechild that steemed from it; my pedro renaissance that'd been asleep since tlou dropped AWAKES (u don't get it, i literally watched narcos just for him) i'm so fr i need this man BIBLICALLY!!

"Lemme guess, that's her, right?"

Pedro looks up from his phone, slightly red and embarrassed. He would blame the color on the sun, and as an actor, fake his way out.

"No idea what you're talking about, Paul"

The young man chuckles.

"I mean, every break we get, you take your chair, sit the farthest and pull your phone with the most ridiculous grin I've ever seen. I'm afraid to tell you, friend, you aren't as slick as you think"

He leans back against the chair, covering his face with his large palm.

"At least I tried" he finds no point in lying anymore, "seems like I'm addicted, but if it wasn't for y/n, I wouldn't touch it"

"I'm curious, though" Paul scoots his chair closer, "who texts who? You or her?"

"Me" he answers, but then corrects himself quickly, a bit ashamed of how that makes him sound, "but it's mostly her first".

"Right" he doesn't sound convinced, rather curious and annoyed, something he's too old and tired for, "I don't believe you"

He's about to lock his phone, but the wallpaper (a selfie with you) would probably earn him another mock from Mescal.

"Too bad I don't need you to"

Before he can do so, the irish man yanks his phone away.

"Give it back!" he shouts, earning a few glances from the crew around them, "what are you, ten?"

"No, twenty-eight" they look like kids bickering. "No need to fight me, Mr. Pascal, they haven't taught us the new fighting choreography yet" he mocks, before the phone chimes; they both stop at the sound.

"What does this mean?" Paul asks. "Malta's nice" he reads out loud, "were you talking about possible future vacations? I might have to tag along"

He doesn't follow the man's joke, instead, looking at the message on your chat. Malta's nice, says the little cryptic message, and yes―it is cryptic, because you were just talking about missing each other and some other corny stuff he'd take to his grave. Not vacations, and certainly, not about the european island, which happens to also be the place were he's filming his latest movie.

"No, we weren't" he replies confused, "what do you think it means?"

"Well, obviously, you boys don't know anything" May pops up from behind, laughing.

"Were you eavesdropping?" he asks playfully, albeit, a little offended.

"No, you guys are just too loud" she replies nonchalant. "Besides, you aren't very good at hiding it, either"

"That's what I said!" Paul backs, laughing on his face.

"Stop being misterious and just drop it"

"It means" she pauses―laughing at her own little dramatic effect, "that you're getting a visit soon"

When you met Pedro, you were working in The Last Of Us. Nothing fancy, just part of the technical cast of the show: helping with the filming and stuff.

During those months, it was easy to find yourself falling for the main star (alongside Bella Ramsey), especially when you spent months behind a camera, capturing all of his perfect features; learning them by memory until you could draw them without seeing his face.

Yes, you had fallen for the older man, because it was as natural as breathing; easy as being alive―the fall so gentle and so easy, it was hard to know when the feelings started. You just woke up one day, feeling different.

You liked to act up―always had what you wanted, and times had changed (so it's not like he had to ask first): why not? Which is why during your last day of shooting you took some liquid courage on your veins and went up his way. It was at a little gathering the crew you've grown to call family organized, while wearing your favorite and tightest dress, that you approached him.

It surprised you that he even recognized you, but that's who he was: warm, welcoming and caring.

To augment the surprise, turns out he had eyed you already, but was too shy to do anything. Yes, the worlds most famous Chilean man. It did stroke your ego, and maybe that's why you feel like most of the time, you've got the upper hand on your relationship, despite the years in between.

You know your boyfriend isn't exactly the type to scold or get mad―despite his strong figure, but going against the only thing he asked you might test him. Which is why you feel nervous, despite the happiness around you, everyone in the airport looking straight out of a picture perfect summer edition magazine.

Still, you feel like the last message you just sent was a bit too blunt. Now you sit at the tiny airport, pondering your next move.

And your theory is proven exactly right when you arrive impromptu at the Gladiator II set: making heads turn and guards almost kick you out, thinking you're a fan.

"You don't get it!" you protest, "he's my boyfriend".

"Sure", they laugh on your face. "you're not the first to say that".

"She's not lying" oh, how you love that gravely voice. But not today: not when he sounds like a parent scolding a naive child. Not when his eyes bore into you, slightly irritated.

So now he's dragging you among the set, right to were his trailer is.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" you ask, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. He keeps dragging you by the arm, without sparing a glance in your way. Who does he think he is? "I wanted to tell Paul he made me cry―twice. You know I don't play about Normal People and Aftersun"

"But you do seem to play about my orders" he grunts out, opening the door to his trailer. The sunlight reflects against the white, slightly bothering your eyes with its shine, contrary to your boyfriend's gloomy behaviour.

"Are you being serious right now? You're not my dad to scold me. I just wanted to surprise you" you stand still, refusing to get inside. Pedro knows your character tends to be stubborn, and thought he finds it hot to reel you up sometimes, there are other times where he can't just stand that juvenile spirit of rage you tend to have when things don't go the way you want them to. "What's gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same" he mocks. "Get inside. Now"

"Rude" you scoff, but obey regardless, and he breathes out relieved you didn't do a scene like last time; he still can't show his face on that restaurant to this day.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me" you say a tad bit dissapointed, and Pascal feels the pissed off feelings clouding his brain start to dissipate.

"I do, amor" he sighs, "just hate to see you do things I tell you not to; waltzing in here like you own the place".

You don't see the mistake, though. What's wrong with wanting to do a little surprise? It's not like you were a stalker or something; just a very clingy girlfriend who happens to miss her boyfriend.

"So, you're not mad?" you venture, "tell me you're not embarrassed"

He looks at you, the fondness of his gaze betraying him.

"I'm not the one wearing a skirt while trying to sound intimidating" you joke while caressing the crook of his nose, knowing you always get on his good side. Being mad isn't something that lasts, "if anyone should be embarrassed, that's you"

"Are you saying I shouldn't wear one because I'm a man?" your boyfriend looks offended, "Have you forgotten the movie I'm starring in? People feared the skirt-wearing Roman army"

"Well, I'm not intimidated" you stand defiant, and something dark tints his brown eyes. You can feel the excitement begin pooling in your stomach.

"You're not?" he grips your wrists and yanks you to him, then holds your chin, tilting your head between his calloused fingers. "Well, cariño, you should be"

Your body slams against one of the trailers walls, and you have to suppress a whine.

"You must be punished for what you did today"

You give him a doe-eye look, pretending to be all innocent, as if you weren't enjoying the punishment.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been a good girl"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about" he clicks his tongue, "don't play dumb with me"

"I just came to visit you" you murmur, voice husky against his ear. He grunts, and with the proximity, his hard-on rasps against your bare legs, only partly covered by the flowy summer dress you're wearing, "is that so bad?"

"It is. Has sido mala, cariño" his hand travels down under your dress, carresing with his large palm the silhoutte of your ass. The rings on his fingers create a shock, cold metal against your warm sun-bathed skin. "Naughty girl"

"I promise I'll be good, papi" you purr, using that honeyed voice of yours that makes it hard: hard to say no and hard between his pants.

Pedro sits on a small couch he has inside the trailer, guiding you with his hand enveloped around yours, motioning you to follow with a care so soft, you'd doubt he's about to do to you what he is about to do to you. He pulls you across his lap, smiling (God, you love his smile) as your stomach presses against his tights.

"Don't worry" he breathes low, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll make you a good girl. Tell me, aren't you?"

You swallow, "I am"

He moves the panties easily to the side, rubbing your pussy a little. He then spanks it softly, making you mewl at the sting.

Pedro continues to trace over it, "Are you sure about that?"

"N-no" you shiver in delight, resolve dissolving as quick as it came. "I'm naughty"

"It's good to be aware" he murmurs, "Dilo otra vez"

"I'm a naughty girl"

He lifts your head by your hair. "Tell me what you did"

"Disobeyed your orders, coming to the set" you whisper. He lets go of your hair, his hands traveling down again, slowly teasingly rubbing your pussy while he humms.

"You were a little brat, amor"

You whimpered and mewled in delight. "I was a very naughty brat"

He pushed his fingers inside you, plunging his fingers into your pussy.

"Look at you. You're soaking wet" he pumped his fingers in you, making you moan, "Is that why you came to see me? Couldn't wait any longer for daddy to be inside of you?"

You bucked a little, making him stop. He drags his fingers out, causing you to beg for him to go back.

"Answer my question you greedy thing" He leaned closer to your ear. "Did you need my cock this much?"

You whimper, "I do! Missed you so much"

He pushed his fingers back into you, provoking a moan out of you.

"You're always so needy for me" your core tenses, making you shiver. "How badly do you want me? Tell me"

You whimpered "Badly, papi"

"Say it" his face contorts in satisfaction at your pathethic display; crying little mess, "Who's cock, fingers and mouth make you feel good?"

You can't think at this point, your brain fuzzy and pussy hot, leaking. You kiss his lips, moaning against them, "you!"

"Just me, yes? Nobody else can make you feel this good?"

"No one!"

You involuntarily roll your hips to aid you in pleasure, yet Pedro stops you just before you can reach your orgasm.

"Little brat." he tuts, making you groan. "Did you think I'd let you? You were naughty today, baby"

You huff in annoyance, used to having your way.

"That's your punishment"

"But I'll behave" you mewl against his ear, "I promise"

“Good, because I'm planning on fucking your brains out” his hot breathe whispers in your ear seductively, trying his best not to slur the words at the drunken haze that your arousal provokes in him, "but you have to help me first"

You get on your knees, looking at the garment he's wearing. The skirt and general costume makes this all the more hot, mouth watering at the sight. You raise the skirt, glancing at the briefs; just seeing his dick strained against the fabric makes you wet in anticipation.

He sees the pleasure bore into your orbs, and before you do any dirty idea of yours, he's already warning:

"You have to take this off, what if we-"

"Alright" you cut him off, "but the skirt stays"

"Sigue, pues" he growls, voice low yet demanding, following you in your little game.

As you pull the briefs down, his erection springs out enthusiastically, slapping up against his lower abdomen. You shifted your gaze up to meet his, his eyelids heavy and his proud smirk driving you absolutely wild.

"That's right" he chokes out, "show me how much you missed it"

You give him a proud lick, and Pedro hisses at the moment his preseminal fluid goes in between your hungry lips.

Your tongue darts to the head of his cock, running over it several times before bobbing your head down, taking most of him in your mouth. He keeps praising as you pump the base of his cock with your hand. Your head bobs, yet you peek up to hear Pascal's little sounds and facial expression, a motivation so intimate in the way his brows furrow and eyes roll, mouth agape at your movements while his lip suck on those pretty lips of his. It makes you keep going. With every bob you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, before slowly moving your way back up to the tip, increasing your suction the closer to his head you got. A throaty moan escapes the man above you when you now focus on the final lick, making him closer to coming, all while maintaining eye contact the entire way through.

"Don't do that" he rasps, yanking you by the hair again, as of punishment, but he knows you enjoy it, "you promised you'd be good"

You can't answer, so instead, you reach the head of his cock again, and now his eyes roll back, mumbling profanities that sound like heaven.

"Do you want them to hear us, brat? Qué necia eres" he manages to chastise while moaning.

You feel his dick stuck in your throat, and the way he's about to come; you think that after some time dating, you know him well enough.

You're about to leave with your mouth when he stops you.

"No" your eyes open in shock, "what? Did you think your punishment is over?" Pedro laughs, "don't look at me like that. Like you have never done it before"

He keeps you in place by the hair, the rings prickling against your scalp. You feel his muscles tense up, and before you can think anything else thick and hot shots of cum invade your mouth, making it sticky and warm.

"Don't pretend you don't like it" his voice goes dark, husky. "Swallow it all. Te han enseñado a no desperdiciar nada, ¿verdad? Show me your good manners, then"

When you pull out, your throat feels raspy.

"You gotta reward me" you cough out.

"I promised, didn't I?" his fingers trace your face delicately, with adoration.

"It's all about duty, General Acacius" you purr, and the dick springs out again. Hard.

"Princess..." he warns.

"For the glory of Rome" you joke and laugh, then cough, as your throat is still sore.

"Have you been reading my script?" as you avoid to answer, he just chuckles, "ay, nena"

"C'mere" he motions, and you sit on his lap again. Pedro lifts your dress, exploring the curve of your ass. There's anticipation as he hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to access your core.

"Fuck" you squirm at his touch, grinding your freed cunt against his hard cock. He grabs you by the hip, adjusting you right on his lap.

"You taste so good" he kisses down your throat, ending at the chest were your tits peak.

"Want them?" you offer, pulling your dress down. He kisses them, gently nipping at your perked up nipples.

A wave of pleasure courses through you, and with whines and moans, you show how desperate you are, the hunger making the meal taste better. After all those weeks missing him, you just want him to fuck you senseless.

His lips are rosy and swollen against yours, mouths clashing; starved of the yearned contact. Truth is, no matter how much you know how to touch yourself, it'll never be the same as having his hard cock tear through your tight folds.

Pedro easily aligns his leaking cock with your uncovered pussy, all while mantaining the kiss. He pushes down on you, your dripping cunt taking all of his rock-hard cock, fingers holding onto the soft brown grey sprinkled locs.

"Pedro" you cry out his name, full of ecstasy as the stretch burns so sweetly. His low grunts only fuel your desire.

You trace with your eyes his body, now bare without the upper part of the costume: his pecs and abs, flexing with every pump. With now free hands, your fingers travel to softly caress his stomach, even if your tits are jiggling and the pace frenetic.

"I miss your tummy" you pout.

"I miss eating too" he whispers out, tiredly. He's reminded of his old age, forgetting about it as soon as you two kiss, because you bring out a stamina he thinks he doesn't have anymore; almost animalistic. His bones creak and adding the tiring filming day under the hot sun, he feels his body start to give up, the orgams closer and closer.

"No matter how you look" you clash your lips onto his, the adoration translating through the smile you press against, a trail of saliva that symbolizes how interwined you are, "you always look so fucking good"

He blushes, feeling like a stupid school boy with a crush. What did he even do to deserve you? Never thought a pretty young wild thing like you would even spare a glance on his way, but now you're taking all of his cock inside with such greed yet loom into his eyes with a love he's only dreamed of.

You're real, and his.

As soon as those words leave your mouth your orgasm spills over him, some of it dripping onto the skirt, making him curse. You can't stop, still meeting his thrusts halfway, despite your trembling body after reaching your high.

"Mierda" he groans against your mouth,

You feel yourself collapsing on top of him, the weight of the jet lag catching up.

"Getting tired, baby?" he coos. "Shit, and I thought I was old"

"You are" you reply back; you can never not have the last word. And he lets you, because, God, doesn't he love you? He pretends to look offended by it, but the way your eyes shine tell him you didn't mean it that way. "You and your white hairs" tracing over his moustache, a soft hand combing through his locks, "These wrinkles... don't you know how much I love them? how much I love you?"

"And you have no idea how much I love you" he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling it coming through. "God, wanna make you mine. Sólo mía" his pace slows. It's coming, and yes, you will take it all. "Wanna make you a baby, mami. Want you to take it all like the good girl you are"

When he comes, filling you with burning hot cum until you feel like you might burst, you're numb. But there's a feeling so content that pools warmth in your chest, that you can't say anything else, resting your head against his bare chest, both covered in sticky sweat.

"No sé cómo voy a explicar esto" he speaks through ragged breathes, and you can only smirk, "a squirted and cummed roman skirt".

"That isn't my problem" he scoffs, and you feel your head rise against the movement, earning a laugh out of you, "I'm not part of the movie"

"You'd sure think so, with the way you walked in here"

You roll your eyes, face hidden against his chest, "can you let that go?"

"You're right" he pulls you closer to him, hand enveloping you behind your bare back. The quiet doesn't bother you as you lie closer to his chest, his heartbeat the only thing you need to be at peace, "I think punishment time is over. Think you've learned your lesson"

"Then, how about we go out? I've heard Malta's beaches are pretty"

"Relájate, cariño. Seems you've gotten your energy back" he quips, then kisses your forehead. "We need to wait for everyone to get out"

"That embarrased you are of me?" you joke.

"No" he can already imagine his fellow cast members making fun of him, starting with Paul and Joseph when they see you and Connie who she totally notices the fun sticky stains on the costume, "but embarrased of the explanation I'll have to give"

[yemmuis]

thinking about roommate!choso, who, after fucking you for the first time, decides its the only thing he likes anymore.

besides spending time with you, and watching movies with you, and smoking with you.

you know those “physical needs, physiological needs, spiritual needs” pyramids you learn about in highschool? yeah, chosos goes fucking you in bed, fucking you in his car, fucking you on the bathroom counter, fucking you on the couch, and then—and only then—comes eat, sleep, drink.

he cant stop himself. i mean, really—when you’re walking around with your ass practically hanging out of your shorts, tight shirt with no bra underneath, how can you blame him for bending you over the nearest surface and barely taking the time to pull your panties off? (he doesn’t, just pushes them to the side or pulls them down enough to expose your wet cunt. just for his stupidly big cock to bully into your cervix as usual.)

and how can you blame him, when hes so sweet to you when hes quite literally pounding you over the back of the couch? all that comes out of his mouth is “i’m sorry, baby, ‘m sorry, but you know how i get when you tease me” and “i love you, thank you” over and over and over until hes pumping you full of his cum and then dropping to his knees to watch while he stuffs you full of his fingers to make sure you cant fake cummin’ for him.

so what, he’s a little anxious. what is he if he cant please you, though?

and maybe he has a bit of a…disregard for protection. it just feels so much better when he isnt hindering himself with a condom, obviously!

and maybe he likes watching you drool into his chest when hes done with you; watching his nut ooooze out of your cunt and make a mess wherever hes fucked you this time.

sure, you scold him after every time— “you gotta use protection next time, cho, i don’ wanna get pregnant.” you grumble, even while your lips are locked with his and just by his half-lidded eyes and dilated pupils you know hes not quite done with you yet.

deep down, you know maybe you wouldn’t mind having chosos babies.

not that you’ll tell him that. he’s very weak to your suggestions, and you don’t know what you’d do if he got it in his head that he wanted to marry you and pump you full of his kids.

…maybe you two should have a talk on where this whole roommates-to-fuckbuddies thing is going.

note :: i have something big in the works i proooommmyyy i jus need 2 find the time 2 write ☹️☹️ soon u shall have ur fix my babies i promise

[seasprincess]

JJ fic. I'm thinking sweet smut. Like almost goofy because that's just who he is, rarely super serious. And he and reader just know each other so well that things can be goofy, even during sex and neither of them care. Unprotected (if you're good with that). Then maybe reader finds out she's pregnant. Worried to tell JJ. But he's so thrilled.

bf!jj

a/n: I loveeed this ask

warnings: smut, pregnancy, unprotected s3x (wrap it pookies), brain rot.

“Have you got a condom?” As soon as the words leave your mouth the blonde, that’s on top of you, head pops up. He looks at you slightly confused. His hands stoping the rubbing against your lacy panties.

“I thought you were bringing them?” JJ says, his blue eyes looking into yours as he suddenly remembers.

He was supposed to bring them.

“Fuck sake.” He sighs as he runs his head, this isn’t the first time he’s had to run out and buy them during this intimate moments. He just a forgetful guy.

“Fuck it.” You say, not even thinking about it twice. You need this. He’s been touching you for too long. “You’ve been edging me f-“

“Edging.” He cuts off with a little snort and a smile. He’s so unserious it’s insane.

“Stop.”

“Sorry.”

You look up at him and lean up, pressing your soft lips against his. Slowly his slips his tongue into your mouth as his hands continue to touch, rub and caress you. He’s being soft today.

But the way he’s fiddling with the zipper of his jeans is not soft nor slow. Of course it gets stuck, and he’s just there trying to rip it open. Trying to unjam it with some huffs and puffs.

While he’s doing that you’re pulling down your panties, the fold air against your core making you flinch a bit. Before you lay back down and he lays back on top of you.

“Are you sure?” He asks as he looks at you. This isn’t the first time you’ve done it without protection but every time he checks. Make sure you’re certain.

“Yes.” You say with a nod of your head. You just can’t wait any longer.

Slowly JJ enters your cunt, your tight walls sucking him in as you let at a moan. JJ jokes about his size to everyone. Saying how big he is. But they weren’t jokes.

“Fuck mama. So tight.” He says before placing a kiss on your neck. His thrusts picking up. His hand coming to your neck, not to choke you. But to make it easier to pick up his speed. “Such a good girl.”

Your walls clench around him as your eyes screw shut. Whimpers filling the space of your bedroom.

“Please don’t stop.” You breathe out as you instinctively grab onto the duvet, knuckles turning white as you look at him. His stupid face smirking down at you before reattaching to your neck.

His face practically lives there now. Hes always kissing and sucking on your neck.

JJ’s free hand slips between your legs and starts rubbing. Rubbing that sensitive bud of yours. His cock twitching inside your pussy.

It doesn’t take long for both you and JJ to cum. His thrust slowing down as he looks at you.

Both of you panting before the blonde just has to open his stupid mouth.

“That was so skibidi.”

“Oh my god.”

You can’t believe it.

‘This can’t be real.’ You think to yourself as you look at those two lines. The two lines that can either be a blessing or a curse.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sat on the bath mat of your bathroom. I mean you can’t have a baby. Can you? You’re only eighteen living at your parents house dating a guy who only recently learnt the difference between there, their and they’re.

You can’t be parents.

You just can’t.

“Baby I’m here to hang.” The sound interrupts your thoughts. the very guy you were just thinking about. Knocking a tune on your bathroom door.

You sniff and dry your eyes, trying to get rid of any sign that you were crying.

But JJ heard everything.

“Hey, yn? You okay?” His concern is evident in his tone. He cares about you more than you’d ever know.

The bathroom door slowly opens and your eyes meet the blondes. Slowly making his way to you, crouching down and placing his hands on your knees. You’re silent. You can’t speak. Don’t know what to say if you were to open your mouth.

So you just hold the test.

JJ’s eyes follow your gaze to the test. His breath catching in the back of his throat.

You want to know how he feels, is he angry? Upset? Disappointed?

Actually he’s none of them.

“I’m going to be a dad?” He says excitedly. Immediately you look at him. Shocked by this response. He’s happy?

“Yeah.” You say quietly.

“I’m going to be a dad!” He says louder and takes off his hat before standing up. Pacing the bathroom and smiling. Yapping about all the things he’s going to do. How excited he is to have a child.

You should’ve never been worried. You’re going to be parents.

[dcxdpdabbles]

can you write the batfam going to amity due to *reasons* and alls well until Jason feels like he SHOULDNT go near since it’s Danny’s Haunt? Like how Crime Alley is ‘his’ Haunt? And batfam thinks he’s just being dramatic but uh, yeah he isn’t.

"I'm not going in there," Jason repeated, standing on the side of the highway, arms crossed over his chest and a stubborn scowl on his face.

"Jay, please get back in the van," Bruce sighed while the rest of the Waynes stared from their seats. They had originally all gotten off, but when the second eldest had started yelling, Bruce herded everyone back inside, including Dick.

No one knows why Jason was acting like this.

A few minutes earlier, he had napped comfortably in the far back of the large van Bruce had rented. The family had been on a cross-country road trip, where they all piled in together and let the GPA lead them to their final destination- Wayne Mountain Hotsprings. Alfred had the idea to practically kick everyone out of the manor to bond.

Members of their various teams would watch Gotham for the three weeks they would be gone. This week, Kon and Bart texted Tim updates. At first, the Waynes were not entirely up for the trip, but after a few hours of driving, they all enjoyed singing random songs and researching their vacation pick.

They each got to pick one random spot they wanted to stop at one the way- tourist trap or not- and Damian had been excited to go to "America's most haunted town." He had even been able to contact local ghost hunters who were excited to give them a tour. The Waynes would spend the night at the only hotel in the city and leave tomorrow morning.

That was the plan until Jason woke up screaming at the top of his lungs, "Pull over! Pull over! I can't go in there!"

It gave everyone a heart attack. Bruce had nearly driven into the other lane as Jason had been attempting to unbuckle himself and- were it not for Cass's quick reflection- fling himself from the moving vehicle. As soon as they found a safe spot to pull over, Jason leaped from the van and placed himself in front of the Welcome to Amity Park sign

A little up the road, they could see the city's outskirts. The Fentons, the acclaimed ghost hunters, were expecting them in twenty minutes. Damian was getting angsty.

"Can you explain why you can't go into Amity Park?" Bruce questions, stepping closer. "I won't make you go in there. I just need to know what's going on."

"Don't you feel that?" Jason asks, gesturing to the air around them. "It feels unsafe."

"What does?"

"The vibes," Jason said straightly, and Bruce's left eyebrow was spammed. "The vibes are choking."

Bruce takes another step closer, voice lowering into the familiar tone of comforting a scared civilian. "Jay what do you mean by that."

Jason opened his mouth only to snap his head upwards with a scream. "He's here!"

Everyone looked up—or at least those in the van by a window—only to see nothing. There was nothing there that could have freaked out Jason so much. The sun, maybe? Gotham wasn't known for its sunlight, and perhaps the fact that he grew up without it made it extra terrifying to the Gothamite.

Jason leaped behind Bruce, hiding like he did as a child. Now that Jay was taller than his father and buckler, it was a strange sight. "I'm sorry! I swear I wasn't going in!"

"Jaylad, what-"

"Ghost detected." The robotic voice of Damian's official ghost-hunting equipment made everyone freeze. The boy had opened the door of the van, escaping Duke's attempted grasp, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by the little machine in his hand.

It came from the Fentons' online store, and although it didn't work, Damian enjoyed walking around with it, searching for the paranormal. The rest of the family saw it as an age-appropriate make-believe, sighing in relief when he waved his little box around before deeming the area safe.

As it were, Damian waved the box again, letting the machine hum and bling as it landed on a particular spot in the sky. "Ghost detected. Ghost detected. Ghost located. Ghost is ten feet before you."

"Oh wow," An unknown voice said over the sound of rushing cars on the highway. Damian's eyes widen. "Haven't seen that design of the Fenton Finder in years. First edition, isn't it?"

Damian eyes are practilly sparkling as he puffs out his chest "It is! Are you a ghost?"

"Yeah." Suddently a glowing flouting transparent boy pops into thin air. No sound, no portal, not rush of air. Just one second he's there. He offers Damian a wide warm smile, that somehow makes his glowing green eyes menecing. "I'm Danny Phantom."

He turns his eyes back to Jason as Damian gapes at him. The boy had thought Phantom was a local urban legend. He has been decorating his room with "captured" images of Phantom for years. He turns to Tim, hissing for a pen and his photo binder.

"You." Phantom points at the cowering man. "Feel strange. You're overshadowed, but at the same time, there is no foreign soul in your body. What are you?"

"Um, I'm just here on vacation with my family-oh!" Jason words are cut off as Phantom flings himself at the pair. Before Bruce or Jason can react the ghost has his hands inside of Jason chest, ramaging around like it's a bag. Oddly enough, this makes Jason blush.

"Hmm. Yeah, there is no other ghost here. Are you haunting your own corpse?" Phantom floats upwards to stare into Jason's eyes. "Or are you a Halfa?"

"My own corpse," Jason gasps, but Bruce decides he's not about to let whoever this bothers his son, pushing Phantom back. Only somewhat surprised by the fact he made contact the hero's grunts

"Kindly keep your hands to yourself."

"Sorry," Phantom mutters, flouting back. He fidgets with his glowing white hair while shifting his feet. "I just wanted to be sure he was safe. You may enter."

And with another pop, he's gone.

Damian makes a sad whine in the back of his throat, holding a picture of a blurred image of Phantom and a pen. He flipped through the binder, attempting to find the clearest one while the ghost chatted with his father and brother. "I didn't get an autograph."

"There's always next time," Tim offered, patting the boy back as he led him towards his seat in the van again. You should keep that on your person so if you run into him again, we can get it signed for you quickly."

"Okay"

"Phew," Jason breathed, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. "That was terrifying. Anyway, we should get going, I don't want to be late for the Fentons."

He ignored Bruce's look, walking back as if he hadn't held them up for nearly forty minutes because the vibes were bad.

Bruce stared as Jason skipped back to the van, feeling very old and single. Maybe he should try calling the blind date Alfred had attempted to set up for him. He needs some support in raising his children. He has too many white hairs as it were.

[five-one-two-station]

At this point I am convinced some people are watching this show solely via the subtitle files, because that's the only thing that explains drastically misunderstanding everything that's not spelled out in dialogue to this extent.

Honestly some of the most embarrassing mass failure of media literacy I've ever seen. It's not even complicated stuff, it's basic text comprehension and story fluency.

- No, Caitlyn's "I know!" is not anger at being called out; she's saying she is very, very painfully aware of what she's done wrong. Watch it again.

- No she didn't take the guards away or go to the cell to have sex with Vi. TF?!?

It was Vi who initiated; Caitlyn was surprised she did.

She pulled the guards away to help Vi if/when she chose to do what she knows her well enough to know she probably would. Vi makes her choice - Caitlyn doesn't "let" her, she just supports it, because it's Vi's choice to make.

Vi has no idea she's done this until after, it doesn't affect her "agency" at all. That's not what any of those words mean!

- She did this as a direct acknowledgement of and response to Vi's previous criticisms.

You are supposed to be able to make the very, very minimal leap of imagination required to understand what the show is telling you here; that she is genuinely sorry, genuinely committed to getting her shit together, and that she has heard and received every word that Vi has told her.

The reason this gesture is so important is that it demonstrates she's now going out on a limb to put herself, her resources, and her privilege to work for the greater good.

And the reason Vi reacts the way she does is that she understands all of this immediately.

You should not need the show to sit you down and spell this out to you step by step Barney the Dinosaur style.

- She works very hard and sacrifices quite a lot to try to do right by people after fucking up so badly before, but not before very explicitly acknowledging that she can't undo the harm she's already done. And this isn't even an inference thing, she actually even says this bit out loud twice, and you still somehow missed it.

- For $5, what do you think the show was suggesting by having Sevika take up her seat, her final costume have no Enforcer uniform elements, and having her allude to an ongoing struggle. Come on, guess.

I am loathe to call people stupid just because some tv show stuff sailed over their heads, but... y'all are legitimately testing that. This is not exactly The Holy Mountain or something, it is very straightforward storytelling.

And just... I mean why would you be this loud about anything without making sure you didn't have it ass backways first?!? In public!?!? 💀

You guys, you have to watch shows to know what is happening in them.

[kittenintheden]

When I Think About You

surprise jorkin it PWP fic drop lol. enjoy.

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Astarion/Reader (You) Word Count: 1550 Content: 18+, jealousy, voyeurism, masturbation, mutual masturbation (sort of?), pillow humping, gender-neutral Tav/Reader

AO3 Link

You went to bed early tonight.

Well, earlier than you typically do. Not that Astarion has been paying you much attention. Hardly any, really. You’re just easy to miss.

Notice. You’re easy to notice. Because you’re so obvious.

Obviously annoying, obviously infuriating, obviously determined, and obviously infatuated with him. True, that had been his goal, but hells, you could blush a little less at his come-ons. Even if it does look cute on you.

Not that he thinks you’re cute. Not really.

The others are packing up their gear and turning in for the night. Astarion will take first watch like he typically does, have a quick trance, and get up in the early morning hours for a hunt. Easy. Routine.

So what if he’s falling into a routine with these people. It makes things simpler.

He should check on you. Just to make sure you’re not ill. For his health more than yours. These days, a headache could mean a rapid onset of calamari face. He’s doing everyone a favor, honestly.

When he approaches your tent, his steps slow to a stop as his ears pick up noise from inside your tent. You aren’t asleep.

And by the sound of it – and it’s a sound Astarion knows well – you aren’t alone.

He huffs an irritated breath through his nose. Gods damn it. He really thought he had you in the bag. There’s a shard of something sharp lodged beneath his rib. Annoyance, probably. Disappointment that he’s back to square one. Bitterness that he lost another competition, even when he’s doing what he does best.

Astarion turns to walk away. Takes three steps. Stops. Turns his head back toward the sound.

Who is it?

Who are you with?

He has his suspicions, but might as well take a quick peek to verify. His steps as he approaches are catlike. Not that you’d notice anyway, preoccupied as you are. He won’t look much. Only enough to see who stole his prize.

His mark. Who stole his mark.

Astarion pauses at the far side of your closed tent flap and finds a gap in the cloth. He leans in, eyes keen in the dark, and his mouth goes dry when he sees your hips grinding against someone, the length of your body pressed tight to theirs while you move over them. A blanket covers you both, but it doesn’t hide the passion of your movement.

He jerks his head away, a ball of tension aching in his gut. Ridiculous. He should go kill something. He walks toward the woods.

And stops with a sigh.

Astarion hates himself for it, this burning curiosity to know exactly who you’re riding so enthusiastically. Steeling himself, he creeps back and peeks once more through the split in the fabric.

You’re sitting up, now, showing him the long line of your spine in the center of your bare back as your hips continue to work. Every puff of breath through your lips is desperate, occasionally lilting up in a breathless moan.

Astarion worries his lip between his teeth. The muscles beneath your skin ripple, your blood thrumming so close and smelling so much of you, sweetened with the scent of arousal. If you’d just lean a little one way or the other, he could see who’s working you so… so…

There’s a flash of heat in his core followed by a sparking current of electricity, setting everything alight. He’d been doing his best to ignore the steady swell of his cock, but ignoring it is no longer an option as he goes hard as stone, the length of him straining toward his hip bone. Subconsciously, he cants his hips into the empty air and finds absolutely no relief. He has to swallow back a soft moan of his own.

The rolling globes of your arse are shaped perfectly beneath your thin wool blanket. Sharp, rocking thrusts against your playmate, against whichever lucky wretch currently feels the sticky heat of you while he watches.

Astarion lets his hand drift to the front of his breeches and sucks his breath in through his teeth when his palm grazes firmly over the covered head of his cock.

 You run a hand up your side and feel your own chest, maintaining your rhythm as you whimper.

Astarion’s fingers move to loosen his laces, lips parted as he begins to softly pant.

Your hand moves back down and you’re… yes, you’re putting your fingers between your legs, and you throw your head back with a gasp.

His fingers dip below his waistband and he curls in on himself with a huff as he takes himself in hand and begins to pump. Once, twice… ah, gods, that’s nice.

Though being under you would be even nicer.

Lucky sod. Who is it?

The blanket slips down over the curve of your arse, falling to one side and his breath catches as he realizes he’s about to get his answer.

Fabric falls aside and your incredible arse is grinding back and forth. You’re riding yourself to absolute delirium with…

A spare bedroll.

Astarion’s hand stutters to a stop and he doesn’t even breathe as realization hits him. You weren’t with someone else at all. The whole time, you’ve been furiously fucking yourself, grinding needily against your bedding for relief.

And somehow, some way, that makes him even harder. He mouths “oh, fuck” and goes back to stroking himself with renewed vigor. 

You’re desperately aroused, no longer trying to quiet your whimpers as you work your hips in circles against the bedroll while you rub yourself at the same time, your shoulders flushed with need. Your body undulates in wave after wave and Astarion feels quite certain that if he were inside you right now, he’d have come already. He puts his free hand over his mouth, pressing his palm to his lips to keep quiet.

You make a frustrated noise and swing your leg off the bedroll, and for a brief alarming moment, Astarion thinks you’re about to give up, and there’s no way he could let that stand. For either of you.

But then you shove the bedroll away with a huff and flop onto your back without opening your eyes, which is good news for Astarion, since you’d almost certainly see the silhouette of him outside your tent if you were paying attention. Instead, you spread your legs wide and give him a glorious view as one hand returns to its place between your legs and is quickly joined by the other.

Astarion shudders out a breath, the sound thankfully masked by your own rapid pants as you stroke yourself with one hand and trace around your entrance with the other. When you push two fingers inside and begin to pump in and out, Astarion’s knees threaten to give out as he picks up his pace. The tide of pleasure in his core rises and threatens to crest.

Gods, gods, he isn’t even fucking you and you’re still going to make him come before you do.

Your pretty little moans are too much. Your furrowed brow, your flushed cheeks, the way your thighs twitch and your belly shivers with the pleasure you’re lavishing on yourself. What a beauty you are, what a treat, what a-

“-arion,” you whisper, so quietly that he nearly misses it.

“Hah,” he breathes, his pleasure shuddering right on the edge of its peak. His mind must’ve filled that in. There’s no way you said what he thought you said.

He presses his face to the split in the fabric and leans against the tentpole, jerking himself firmly as he watches you arch your back up off the ground, lifting your hips into the air again, again, again, until your hands slow.

“Oh, Astarion,” you whisper just before you slam back down to earth and groan out your release, your slick making your skin shine in the low light.

“Sh-”

Astarion slams his hand over his mouth and ducks to the side, sinking silently to the ground around the corner of your tent just before he creams himself, a pulse of spend striping the ground beneath him, followed by another, and another. His head hangs heavily before him as he catches his breath and dazedly tries to piece together what the fuck just happened.

He sits back, chest heaving and ears ringing.

Then whips his head to the side when he hears you stir inside the tent and tentatively say, “... Hello? Is someone there?”

Astarion holds his breath, which does not help with his current state of floaty lightheadedness.

Then you say, “... Astarion?”

And the sound of his name on your lips sends another ripple of pleasure through him as his cock pulses and drips one last time for good measure.

It takes a minute, but you eventually convince yourself you were hearing things and settle down to sleep, presumably in a more relaxed state than when you first retired. Astarion waits until your breathing slows before he sneaks away, silently tucking himself back into his clothes.

He holds his breath the entire time.

On the other side of camp inside the safety of his own tent, he releases it in a rush, running his unused hand through his curls as realization finally catches up to him.

“Oh, no,” he whispers.

[sukurarose92]

Okay, a friend of mine said "obi-wan about Anakin" and it gave me several silly ideas so i'm gonna share them. Insert random headcanons about Anakin and his catch-it-eat-it diet below the line.

I'm just imagining Anakin opening cabinets, getting down on the floor and searching. Army crawling to look under tables and cabinets, pausing to sniff once in a while.

"Its around here somewhere... i just know it"

"Did you lose something?"

"No. There's an ant in here"

"Oh?... did you see it?"

"No. I can smell it. Its taunting me"

"You can.... smell the ant?" -there is a moment of silence "AHA!" "Oh. oh no. Anakin please don-- oh stars"

It's too late. Anakin has already put it in his mouth. This ties into coming from a planet where food is a little more scarce. He was raised where if you can catch it, you eat it. and obi-wan's reaction implies that he knew it was coming. which led me to headcanon number 2. This is not a new occurrence. You ever imagine the other jedi masters watching this mid-twenties fresh baby faced knight trying to wrestle a small reptile from the grubby hands of feral desert child? Because i have.

Anakin is upset because he caught it to eat it and obi is trying to convince him that there is plenty of food in the cafeteria, please do not eat that.

Perhaps, an 11 year Anakin running by with pudgy stuffed cheeks, obi-wan hot on his heels, shouting frantically "WHAT IS IN YOUR MOUTH?!"

Hearing from another room "SPIT THAT OUT THIS INSTANT! YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE THAT'S BEEN!" Followed by the sounds of a scuffle, which is certainly Knight Kenobi trying to wrestle Anakin's mouth open like an unruly dog with a wrapper, attempting to get it out of him mouth. then a sharp yelp "you BIT me?!" if it's small enough to fit in his mouth, it's going in. Bugs. Lizards. if he catches a small rodent he'll cook it first. but he'll eat it.

Headcanon number 3. Obi-wan is utterly devestated when he discovers that Ahsoka will also eat small critters.

Anakin spots a bug and stares at it, moving to stalk and it sets Ahsoka off. Next thing you know, her pupils have turned to slits and she's fallen into step, stalking alongside him. It doesn't matter who catches it first, Anakin gives it to Ahsoka because he's a good Master.

"here. i had one earlier. you can have this one"

"thanks master!"

Obi-wan is making an utterly despaired sound in the background.

"oh. i'm sorry master obi-wan. did you want that?"

"oh no, snips. obi-wan's a picky eater. he doesn't eat bugs"

"force have mercy. there's two of them"

Next headcanon. fuck naming them. there's too much going on here.

Obi-wan has no spice tolerance, which is a huge issue considering that he spent years hiding out on Tattooine where EVERYTHING is spicy, including the meats. This means that he has to find alternative means of getting his nutrients.

This ends up being a diet comprised of desert grasses, roots, mushrooms, legumes, and insects.

he's scooping out the insides of a giant millipede while staring into the distance, disassociating through dinner. He spends so many meals half to tears because "Anakin would've loved this" -- both the mean and watching Obi-wan suffer through eating bugs.

Next headconnon.

Anakin is a little shit.

that's not a new idea, you say. i know. that part is canon. hear me out though.

Freshly Knighted Anakin taunting Obi-wan with his own nuggets of wisdom

"a varied diet is paramount for a healthy body, master. it's important~" and he's holding up a grasshopper.

"no, thank you, anakin. there is plenty of nutritional value to the temple made meals. i'm quite alright."

"but master. i caught this just for you."

"that's very kind but i simply couldn't" Obi-wan is not very fond of bugs to begin with but he's less fond of them when Anakin decides he wants to chase him with them. "no! stop that!"

"c'mon master, eat it!"

"stop that, you menace!!! anakin no!"

obi-wan afterwards is bent over, hands on his knees after force running around the temple with Anakin chasing him. He's gasping for breath.

And then Anakin just approaches, still holding the bug and Obi-wan has clearly hit his limit of what he's willing to put up with and Anakin grins before popping it in his mouth.

"look at that, master. my force running has gotten better. i can keep up with you now~" 😇

"we-- *gasp* should've left you on Tattooine-- *wheeze* where we found you, you brat" *various dying sounds*

"but ya didn't~❤️"

Obi-wan is ready to kick his ass.

I doubt that it's the only time this has happened. Which brings me to my final points. The addition of Yoda to this horrible shit show.

Anakin's bug buddies, Ahsoka, and Yoda.

We have Anakin chasing Obi-wan once more with a different insect. This happens to be a bad time to be wandering the halls. Obi-wan head to do a, rather graceful, flip to avoid taking out Masters Yoda and Plo Koon while on the run. Anakin is close behind and he barely has time for more than a shouted apology.

Anakin has his bug held high and is excitedly telling his master that "this one is crunchy. you'll like it!" with a little too much glee.

Yoda watches Anakin pass by. takes a deep breath and uses a long frog-like tongue to snatch the bug right out of anakin's hands.

"running in the hallways, against the rules, it is." ☺️

anakin, who knew his master wouldn't eat it and had planned to have it himself when he was done tormenting obi. -- "😟 my bug"

Yoda is, fondly, referred to as "Master Steal your lunch" by Anakin the next time he sees him. Yoda, seeming to sense his error, and enjoying being a menace as much as Anakin, even if it's kept under wraps for the most part, sees an opportunity to ruin someone's day.

He snatches a fly from midair with his tongue and then wipes it off on his robes before offering it to Anakin, well aware it had his saliva on it, as a replacement for his pilfered snack.

There room is draped in horrified silence.

obi-wan is nearly in tears

"oh, merciful force. Anakin, i beg you... don't... "

Anakin seems to have a silent conversation via eyes before he smiles pleasantly, takes the fly, thanks the master so very pleasantly, and just pops it in his mouth, to the unending despair of his master.

Obi-wan has his head in his hands, mortified by this nonsense.

"please, Master Yoda, i beg you, don't encourage him"

imagine if your boyfriend was like I can smell an ant. and started tracking