#feel free to send more they make me so insanely happy

[aspynnwoofs]

Um. hi. your fanart of Marcy waking up from a nightmare is probably my favorite piece of Amphibia fanart ever. curious what was going through your head when you made it. also what are your headcannons/thoughts about The Core, Marcy, what she experienced while under its control, and its lasting effects on her?

holy shit dude, thanks? i don’t know what i did to deserve all this nice stuff you’re saying, but thanks. also the tags on the reblog were not aggressive or mean or anything, they actually made me super happy to see! i’m really glad you like it.

coming back after writing all the stuff, there’s a lot so i’m putting a ‘keep reading’ thing. seriously there’s so much

what was going through my head… hm. it’s like, i imagine Marcy having lots of nightmares about things that happened to her, or things that could have happened, stuff like that. i’ve read a lot of fanfic so now i really like the idea of her clutching her shirt when remembering being impaled. or even just for comfort, to know that her weakest point is covered in moments of terror. also she’s crying. sobbing. the only times she recovers quickly after bad nightmares is when she’s with the others.

i really like the idea of the Core not only sticking her in a box in her mind, but also showing her things. like to keep her from trying to get out. can’t resist if your mind is shattered and devoid of hope! anyway i mean like using the illusions to show her various things, situations, people. more peaceful ones where she’s with her girls, only to realize they aren’t there. terrifying ones where they make her live through her worst memories, her betrayal (of her and by her), her death, her torture and possession. twisted situations where Anne and Sasha proclaim that they can’t be seen with her, they can’t trust her, even hate her for what she’s done. sometimes the Core sticks her in unending darkness so they don’t have to think of anything, or if they’re focused on something else and need her out of the way (this is where the thing about being unable to sleep or feel safe in complete darkness is from). sometimes they’ll make a fake scene where it seems as though she is being shown what her body is doing, she can see through her eyes, and then she hurts people. kills people. sometimes it will be real, but she doesn’t know that, and she will still hurt people. when whoever in the Core in charge of her is feeling particularly cruel, they’ll do a simulation of her being saved. rescued. freed. forgiven. she’s finally with her girls. but. she isn’t. she’s still here. of course they didn’t save her, why would they? she’s a horrible person, and she did so much unforgivable stuff? why would they ever want to save someone like her? (shit this is long, yeesh. well i’m having fun soo-) sometimes Anne and Sasha kill her as she’s possessed, because she needs out of the way, and her life doesn’t matter anyway. sometimes they free her and then take their fury at her out on her by hurting her.

recovery from that is incredibly hard. when she’s rescued, she doesn’t believe it. firmly denies it, hides from them, tries to keep them from hurting her, curls into a ball and refuses to acknowledge them. because they aren’t real, they aren’t. hasn’t she been through this enough? it takes the others a while to convince her she’s in reality, and that yes, they do really forgive her. she’s actually completely free.

later in life she has trouble discerning reality from her nightmares. she has insane trust issues. she can’t walk, not by herself. she’s terrified of fire, because fire is what impaled her, killed her, and fire is the color of the eyes that haunt her. a small zap of static electricity is enough to send her into a flashback of her possession, of the chair, of fire and lightning and code flowing into her, burning burning burning. once someone tried to calm her by grabbing her wrists, which only sent her further. the cuffs. they chained her down. she can’t move she can’t move! the color orange makes her nervous, if there’s too much of it she half convinced they’ve taken over somehow and tinted her vision the color of her nightmares. (looking at this you’d really think i’d be able to write something. i should write something) sudden complete darkness, such as someone turning off a light without warning, has her half believing whatever just happened wasn’t real, that the Core got bored and stuck her in the darkness. sound and small lights can help her come back to reality. sound because the Core wouldn’t let sound into their void, that would defeat the point! and small lights because if it all comes back quickly it just means the simulation has been turned back on. better to show her something small but concrete. Anne and Sasha have gotten really good at realizing when she needs a reality check, and then knowing her to ground her. (btw she doesn’t move away because i need her to have a support system. she might actually go crazy if she’s separated from her friends) ( whAT THE FUCk-?? this is so long! i need to wrap up! holy shiiiit) Marcy likes to hold their hands to help her remember where she is. physical touch is very grounding. the Core could never get it right so it’s even more so. after some nightmares she flinches from touch, so other things are needed, but once she’s returned from the hell in her mind she needs touch. sometimes weighted blankets help to ground her when she feels as though she might almost float away, sometimes they chain her down and trap her beneath the weight of all her mistakes.

there’s probably more, but if i kept going i’ll just have written a whole ass fic in an ask answer. hope you liked it! if not idk what i can give you (you’ll like it, because it’s great)

i don’t think i’ve ever written things out like things before, i should do that more. it helped to have specific questions, so thanks man i guess? heh.

[angeart]

i need you to know that all the messages about hhau made me (and link!!!! both of us!!!) very happy and excited <33 i love that you are interested and that you're coming to us to chat about our silly au!

this is just a psa that i've seen them, got giddy about them, showed link (ofc <33), and will be answering them. but that last part might take a while, so i just wanted to acknowledge it for now and thank you!!

[andragoras-in-vanity]

remember being a teen and watching shit like soul eater and kimono jihen and thinking god damn i wish I had a perpetually exhausted but badass mentor to help me get through things?

well now im 27 and im the perpetually exhausted mentor with bedhead and a slight alcohol problem to my 15 year old cousin and im gonna tear my hair out about not being able to just let her stay for a bit because i know it doesnt matter fuck all what i say to her dad, shes still gonna be treated like shit just because shes a moody teen with undiagnosed add and an autustic brother who constantly talks over everyone. i suddenly need a cigarette.

[hattiewritesalot]

Awake

Azriel x fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel is undeniably furious, especially considering the fact that Y/N has yet to wake up. But, when she does, what will become of their relationship?

Warnings: Vomiting, mentions of Az wanting to kill people for his bbg, very fluffy. Bit of hurt/comfort for both Azriel and Y/N

A/N: Here is part two of Poison (which, btw, thank u for all the support I've been getting on it 😭). feel free to send in requests for acotar bc I'm bored<3

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

Azriel doesn’t think he’s ever been angrier in his entire life.

He’s supposed to stay calm and collected, every inch the mysterious spymaster, but not even the strongest sedative could settle the rage brewing in his chest. His shadows curl menacingly around his limbs, the black essence seeming to share his fury.

Rhysand sighs, rubbing his temples. Feyre stands behind him, probably to offer some form of comfort. They both adore Y/N. They’ve practically adopted her with how much they coddle and coo at her, despite her loud laughter and complaints whenever they do.

Cauldron, what Azriel wouldn't do to hear that laugh right now. 

It’s been three days. Y/N is not awake. His mate is not awake.

Rhysand finally looks up at Azriel. “We’ve got answers, at least.” Before Azriel can interrupt, he keeps talking. “Beron has admitted to poisoning Y/N. He figured that if he targeted her, we’d crumble. Not because she’s the strongest, but because she’s the most… beloved, daresay. He didn’t think we’d hit back, and he thought he’d be able to crush us with this crack in our defences.”

Azriel’s scarred knuckles are alabaster from how hard he’s gripping the arms of his chair. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would he just admit it?” The High Lord of Night takes a deep breath.

“He found it funny.” The noise that tears from Azriel’s throat is completely inhumane, and completely unlike him. He storms to the door, but Cassian’s strong arms hold him back, urging him to stay calm, urging him to breathe. He can’t. He’s gone past being angry, and he’s gone past blaming it on the new mating bond.

Y/N is his best friend. He’d die and kill for her, he’d steal the moon and stars if it meant she’d be happy. The Mother’s bond can go and fuck itself, because the one he’s already got with Y/N will always be stronger.

“I’ve arranged a meeting with Eris Vanserra.” Rhys’ firm voice cuts through the haze of rage. “He says he has plans, and that this event has solidified his desires. I may be unable to tell you what comes of the meeting, but I guarantee that Beron will suffer for what he did to Y/N.”

Mate. Awake. He almost doesn’t realise what his shadows are whispering to him. Awake. Eyes open. Vomit. GO. He chokes, and desperately tries to break free of Cassian's grip. He needs to see her. He needs her to be okay. “Az, Rhys just said-”

“I know what he just said!” Azriel hates the way his voice is more of a sob. “She’s awake- she’s- please, let me go to her!”

A shadowsinger shouldn’t beg. He shouldn’t grovel. He should attack.

But he doesn’t, because he knows that Y/N is far more important than any conflict he could have with Cassian right now.

And, besides, Cassian lets him go. He’s never run so fast in his life. His feet are barely on the ground, legs and shadows and wings working in tandem to get him there as soon as possible. He thinks he might be the one vomiting in a minute.

Rhys groans. “I know they’re close, but he’s going to drive me insane before I even have this meeting.”

But Feyre, ever the observant High Lady, stares at his retreating form, hand squeezing Rhys’ shoulder. “Give him time. I’m sure he’ll cool off, when he knows she’s safe.” A small smile quirks up at the corners of her lips, knowing exactly why Azriel is so worked up.

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

His chest heaves as he pushes the door open, but then it’s filled with warmth. Alive. She’s alive, and upright, and very visibly pissed off but it’s okay because she’s alive.

“The one time I drink something that isn’t champagne-” she croaks out. “-and it turns out to be fucking poisoned. If that’s not my luck I don’t know what is.”

Azriel can’t control the desperate sob that bursts from his lips as he clambers onto the bed, pulling her into his chest. She’s sweaty, and feverish, and she’s just puked into the bucket next to the bed, but he’ll be damned if he cares. She’s alive. He buries his face in her hair, arms and wings squeezing her so tightly it makes her squeak.

“Alright big guy, I’ve just been sick, let’s not try and go for round two.” Her tone is teasing, joking, but the moment he pulls away, her face falls. “Az…” she murmurs, moving her fingers up to wipe his tears. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he spits, sobbing again. “What’s wrong!? You were fucking poisoned! You’ve been puking and coughing and writhing and screaming ever since you got here, and you’ve been out for three days. Three whole days- where- I didn’t know if you were dead, I didn’t know if you-”

“Az.” her tone is a bit firmer now, thumbs pressing against his lips. “I’m okay. I’m gonna be okay. I’m here, I’m breathing, and I’m going to be fine. Breathe.” 

He heaves a deep breath, clutching her so tightly his fingers make indents on her skin. If she notices, she doesn’t care. “You’re… okay.”

“I’m okay.” She smiles. Her lips are cracked and slightly discoloured, but he’s missed her little smile so fucking much. “Come on, Az, you know me. Tough as nails.” She flexes her arms, and Azriel snorts.

“There’s nothing there. You should really stop skipping training.” “No! You’re always a dick to me in training!”

“Yes, because Cassian’s about as mean as a wet sponge, and it isn’t potty training, it’s battle tactics.” She scoffs. “Whatever, whatever.” And he grins, and hugs her again, trying to engrave the memory of her wrapped up in his arms into his brain, just to keep there forever. “Azriel?” He hums in response. “I- so, you know a couple days back? When... this... happened, and I was just about to fall asleep?” She swallows. “I think I felt something… snap.”

His heart pounds in his chest. “The bond? You felt it too?”

“Uh- yeah.” She looks up at him, big eyes blinking up at him like a doe, her face so sweet he wants to coo. “Are you disappointed? That it’s me?”

That makes Azriel frown. How could he be disappointed? She’s everything and more, anyone can see that. Even if he pushes aside the fact that she’s drop-dead gorgeous, she’s got a brain to match it. She’s quick and clever and sassy in a way that rivals even his own spunk. If anything, she should be the disappointed one.

“No.” he says, brows furrowing. “Y/N, sweetheart, you mean the world to me. How could I be disappointed?” He wants to catch all of the butterflies in his stomach and lock them away forever, because they're making him woozy. “Are- are you?”

“Am I?” her tone is confused, almost shocked. “Az- Az, I’ve been into you for, like, forever. I’m not disappointed. I could never be disappointed, not with you.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, blinking, suddenly coming to terms with the fact that this bond has, for lack of better wording, startled them. They’ve always prioritised everyone else over them, always considered others' needs and benefits above their own, but they’ve never had the chance to fully acknowledge themselves. Maybe that’s what made them so alike. Maybe that’s why the Mother paired them together, knowing that amidst the sarcastic comments and teasing touches, the sturdy roots of their relationship came from their unwavering trust and care for one another.

Azriel’s hand moves to Y/N’s clammy forehead, softly pushing the hair away from her face. Despite everything that’s happened in the last few days, she’s still her, and he’s still him. Nothing is ever going to change that.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispers. She rolls her eyes. “I’ve got a raging fever, I’m drenched in my own sweat, I just threw up and you’re calling me beautiful?”

He laughs, oh, by the Cauldron, he laughs. “You could be a corpse and you’d still be the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“That’s necrophilia, Az. Pretty sure that’s illegal.”

“You’re hilarious, sweetheart.”

“Is that why you fell in love with me?”

“Okay, who’s saying I’m in love with you?”

“Me.” and she grins, nudging her nose against his. “Because I am not only hilarious, but also very observant.” He lets out a little hum in response, scarred fingers still twisting in her hair. Everything’s perfect, because they’re not. Their imperfections are intertwined, just like their souls, and the knowledge the other will always be there to love them is all they've ever wanted.

Azriel’s eyes flit down to her lips, and then he’s leaning in, and she’s doing the same, and-

She pulls away, wincing. “I puked about five minutes ago. I don’t think you want to kiss me right now.”

He rolls his eyes, tipping her chin up. “Y/N L/N, I have waited at least two centuries for the opportunity to kiss you. Don’t stop me now.” And he presses his lips to hers. It’s gentle, soft, sweet. Everything he feels around this girl.

“You’re gross.” She mumbles.

“That’s what love does to you.” 

“And you’re a sap.” She grins. “I suppose you’re lucky I love you, even if you are going soft for me.”

“Shut up, sweetheart.”

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@topaz125 @starryhiraeth @nahminae @quiettuba @thecraziestcrayon @honeywithemoney @marvelsmylife @sunny1616 @lilah-asteria @emryb @i-am-infinite @st4r-girl-official

my loves ty for ur support! :)

[aemondsbabe]

Taunt

obviously, i feel very normal and chill about ewan's new performance in saltburn. anyways lmao this is my version of michael gavey from the vibes i got from him in the 5 seconds he's in the trailer! i have no idea if this is accurate to how he is truly portrayed in the movie! if the movie comes out and i'm totally wrong, then i don't care bc i got to have fun writing about a cheeky lil oxford student!!

summary: you're nearly failing statistics and the student your professor asks to tutor you seems to gain a sick satisfaction from seeing you squirm; he hates you...or so think.

pairing: michael gavey x reader

warnings: mature, 18+ (minors, do not enter!!!) no use of Y/N, afab reader, profanity, smut, piv smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dom/sub, brief daddy kink (literally one mention), dirty talk, dumbification, humiliation (only a bit), size kink if you squint, mild angst but happy ending, choking i guess (barely), public sex (they're alone but like it's still public lmao), brief discussions of math -- please let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 10.5k (dear lord)

a/n: baby's first fic omg! if you enjoy this one and want to see more from me, please feel free to send in requests! (GoT, HoTD, Stranger Things, Marvel, etc!)

PRAISE | Taunt Part 2

MAKING AMENDS | Bonus

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!��

“Right, so,” Professor Davies began, pulling a thick textbook off the shelf next to his desk, “Since we’ve only just returned from Easter holiday, I thought I’d go easy on you today.” 

A few quiet groans could be heard around the room, a couple students turning to look at one another with grimaces; in the few weeks you’ve been in Professor Davies’s class, he’s never once gone easy on you. With a small sigh, you shuffle through your spiral notebook until you come to a blank page. 

“D’you think you’ll go to the party this weekend?” Louise whispers, leaning over closer to you as she twirls a pen around in her fingers, “I heard this one is supposed to be fucking insane.”

“Like any of Felix’s parties aren’t insane?” You whisper back, smirking as you doodle a small flower on the corner of a page of paper, “Of course I’ll be there,” you murmur, watching as Professor Davies writes an intricate formula on the chalkboard, “I could really use a break, anyway…I’ve been so stressed recently.”

“Christ…” A boy, in the row of desks in front of you scoffs, just barely shaking his head as he copies down the formula, his handwriting sharp and choppy. You feel blood rush to your cheeks as you narrow your eyes, staring intently at his sandy hair. You didn’t really know him, this being your only class with him, but you’d seen him around campus, regularly passing by him in the halls. Oxford may be a large university, but when you’re on campus everyday, you begin recognizing familiar faces. 

He didn’t run in the same crowds as you at all, and you got the distinct impression that he looked down on you and the rest of your friends, but you knew his name – Michael and that he was incredibly smart, his hand promptly shooting into the air anytime Professor Davies asked a question. In the few weeks you’d been in the same statistics class, you had yet to see him get a question wrong, watching as he grinned, cocky, everytime he was praised for correctly solving even the most intricate of formulas. 

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more the opposite, always shying away and praying not to hear Professor Davies call your name in his deep, baritone voice every time his eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a volunteer, or victim, more like. While Michael clearly enjoyed the class, practically glowing with an arrogant confidence as soon as he walked into the wood paneled lecture hall, you were simply here to check it off as a requirement of your major, hoping to survive the class with a C and nothing more. 

It was annoying, you wouldn’t deny that, the way that smug smirk seemed to be permanently etched onto his face, how that stupid taunting glimmer was an ever-present fixture of his blue eyes — blue eyes which, seemingly, always managed to find their way to you, one way or another. 

His attention was intimidating at first, his cold stare leaving you unsure of what exactly his intention was. Was he trying to challenge you? Trying to determine if he knew you from somewhere else? A small part of you, a naive part, hoped that his staring was meant to be affectionate; he was cute, you’d admit it! Always showing up to class in cozy knit sweaters, his wavy hair still ruffled and untidy as if he’d just gotten out of bed, gold rimmed glasses perched atop a strong nose.

You quickly tear your gaze away from the back of Michael’s head, biting your bottom lip as you begin copying down the problem on the chalkboard, pausing briefly when you see, from the corner of your eye, his head turn as he glances at you over his shoulder. You felt your cheeks flush despite yourself, that small, sanguine voice in the back of your head cheering. 

“Now, then,” Professor Davies booms, dropping the textbook down on his desk with a cacophonous thud before sweeping his eyes across the classroom, “A bit of review before we really dive in…” He continues, pacing around the front of the room as he explains the various parts and pieces of the equation on the board. 

“What do you think you’ll wear?” Louise asks, leaning over once more to whisper in your ear, you can smell her signature floral perfume on her hair, “I was thinking I’d do that new blue-ish dress I got, you know, the strappy one?”

“Might still be too cold for strappy,” you whisper back, half listening to the professor drone on as you continue doodling on your paper, pausing every few minutes to jot down a few haphazard notes, “I was just thinking I’d do a jumper, probably a skirt and tights–”

Suddenly, you hear Professor Davies call your name, your cheeks practically stinging as blood rushes to your face. Sitting up straighter, you finally find the courage to meet his stern gaze, “Since you seem all too eager to share your thoughts,” He continues slowly stalking towards you across wooden floorboards that softly creak beneath his feet, “Would you care to enlighten us with the solution to the quadratic equation on the board?” He comes to a stop, hands clasped behind his back as he patiently waits for you to answer, a small, knowing smile poised on his lips. 

“I– uhm, well,” you stutter, glancing back and forth between your barely there notes and the chalkboard, throat growing tighter as you feel everyone's eyes on you, “Don’t you need to solve for G first?”

“And how would you go about doing that?”

“Well, you would…” You trail off, desperately trying to remember the lessons you’d had before Easter holiday, absentmindedly picking at your cuticle as you pray to be anywhere but here or for a hole to open in the floor and swallow you whole, “I…I don’t recall, professor. I’m sorry.” You finally say, not being able to meet his gaze as you stare intently at your lap, desperately willing yourself not to cry, even as you feel your eyes stinging. 

“Perhaps, in the future, it would be of benefit to socialize with your friends outside of my classroom.” Professor Davies admonishes, giving a sharp glare to Louise as well, who manages an apologetic smile. “Yes, Professor.” You whisper, keeping your eyes downturned. 

Finally, you hear the floorboards softly creaking once more as Professor Davies makes his way back up to the podium at the front of the room and once again resumes his lecture. You can’t help but pause for a second when you hear a small snicker from the tall boy in front of you, sensing as he peers at you over his shoulder once again. 

“Would anyone else like to take a crack at the problem on the board?” Professor Davies asks, leaning against the old, worn podium at the front of the room. Like clockwork, Michael’s hand shoots into the air. Somehow, that makes you blush even harder.

Eventually, Professor Davies finishes his lecture and retrieves his dark leather briefcase from under the desk, pulling a thick stack of papers out and sitting them on the podium, leaning over it with a sigh, “I have your tests graded. Most of you did very well, you should be pleased with yourselves. Some of you, however,” He says pointedly, “Could benefit greatly from a closer study of the material.”

Slowly, he walks around the room passing back tests, throwing out a comment here and there as he did so. You already know you hadn't done well on that particular test and dread getting it back and confirming your suspicions, so you keep yourself busy, choosing to meticulously pack up your things instead. 

“Mr. Gavey,” he said a few feet away from you, papers rustling as he slid the test across the wooden surface of the long bench desks, “Once more, an outstanding job! Top of the class, keep it up.” 

“Thank you, Professor,” you glance up, watching as he takes the paper with a humble nod, that same, oh-so pleased smile gracing his angular face. He must sense you looking at him and quickly shifts his gaze in your direction, eyes glimmering with self-satisfaction behind his gold-rimmed glasses as his smile quickly turns into a smirk. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his with a small, bewildered huff. Why did he seem to get so much satisfaction from besting you, of all people? It’s not like you were exactly an academic threat. 

“Ms. Bickerstaff,” Professor Davies says, finally appearing next to the table you and Louise sat at, “Not bad, a bit more effort next time and you’re sure to be on track,” he remarks, sliding her paper across the desk. Louise thanks him with a small smile as she flips through her test, eyes scanning over his marks. 

Finally, Professor Davies stands before you once again, your paper the very last in his hands. You hear him mutter your last name before he slides the paper across the desk to you, and you can’t help but deflate as you see your grade; you knew it would be bad, but that? How on Earth were you going to recover your average? What if you had to retake the whole course? What if you failed out of Oxford entirely? Your parents had sacrificed so much to help you get here, spending years and untold amounts of money on private tutors and extracurricular materials, all to help you have an impressive application! Not to mention the money just for the course fees! Unlike most of your friends, you didn’t come from piles and piles of money and status – your family was alright, sure, but you were definitely several tax brackets below them. 

As your thoughts spiraled, you felt Louise elbow you in the side at the same time you heard Professor Davies address you again. Shaking your head to clear your scattered thoughts, you clear your throat and finally turn to look up at him, “Sorry, yes, Professor?” 

“As I was saying,” Professor Davies continues, tapping the papers in front of you, “I would like to discuss your performance with you today, after class. Please meet me at the front of the room before you go.”

“Yes, sir.” you mumble dejectedly, nodding as you quickly flip the test over, embarrassed at the thought of anyone else seeing your grade. 

“I’ll see you later, babes,” Louise says a few minutes later as everyone is clearing out of the room, “Good luck!” She whispers, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before making her way to the door.

“Thanks!” you smile weakly, swallowing the lump in your throat before picking up your things and heading to the front of the room. The afternoon sun is already getting lower in the sky, beams of light shining into the room, bathing rectangular swaths of the floor in bright, golden light and highlighting motes of dust as they scatter in the air. Only a few students are left in the classroom, some of them finishing up notes while others type out quick texts. As you walk by his desk, you notice Michael scribbling down notes in his planner. 

You shuffle your feet nervously as you stand in front of the sizable oak desk that your professor sits at, watching as he adds a sticky note to the top of another stack of papers, “You wanted to see me, Professor?”

“Ah, yes!” He says, looking up at you over his glasses. He quickly caps his pen and stands, walking around the desk to stand in front of you, “I know this class has been quite the challenge,” he begins, leaning against the desk, “But, I think I’ve found a solution for you.” 

“You have?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

“I think you could benefit greatly from a tutor, perhaps a peer who could explain the material to you in a different way,” he continues, “And I have just the student in mind.” Instantly, you feel a pit beginning to form in your stomach, biting your bottom lip as you watch Professor Davies motion for someone behind you to come up to the desk, “Mr. Gavey, if you could join us up here, please.”

You freeze when you feel him saunter up beside you, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye. He was so much taller than you, your head barely grazing his shoulder, as he came to a stop next to you, standing casually with his backpack slung over one shoulder. 

Professor Davies once again turns his attention to you, motioning to Michael as he speaks, “Mr. Gavey here is one of my most capable students,” you can’t help but notice him stand up straighter at the comment, growing somehow even taller, “I’ve taken the liberty of asking him if he would be so kind as to assist you with some of the course work and he agreed.” You freeze a little at that, stunned that he would be so quick to help you when he seems to relish any opportunity to make you squirm. “I’ve given it some thought,” the professor continues, fixing you with a stern gaze, “And I’m willing to let you make corrections to your test and resubmit it for half credit.”

“Oh, thank you so much, prof–”

“However,” he adds, crossing his arms over his chest, “This will be the only time I do so. From now on, I suggest you see Mr. Gavey here on a regular basis; the material is only going to get more challenging as we begin this next unit.”

“Of course, professor. Thank you again.” You respond quietly, shifting uneasily as you stand between the two men. 

“Right, well, now that’s sorted,” Professor Davies says, clapping his hands together once as he turns and makes his way back over to the desk chair, sitting down with a tired sigh, “I trust the two of you can come to an agreement upon when and where to meet. I’ll see you again Monday, have a pleasant weekend.” He says, waving his hand dismissively as he goes back to organizing his papers. 

The two of you murmur your goodbyes before making your way into the hall, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as he follows you out of the classroom. Eventually, you come across a small alcove in the hallway; finally turning to face him, you let your eyes sweep up his body, finally coming to meet his blue eyes, slightly hidden behind the glare of the hallway lights on his glasses. 

“So,” you clear your throat and shift on your feet awkwardly, “Uh, what time works for you? I really can’t do Saturdays–” you begin, only to be cut off.

“Shame,” Michael sighs dismissively, a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth, “Saturday is the only day that works for me.” 

The tone of his voice and the mirthful glint in his eyes makes you very much doubt that, your gaze narrowing, “Okay, well Saturday’s are the only day I have off,” you huff, only growing more annoyed as the stupid smirk on his face grows with satisfaction, no doubt pleased that he’s being a nuisance, “Besides, I super can’t tomorrow, anyway. I already promised my friends I’d come with them to this party tha–”

“Oh, I know about your little party,” Michael scoffs, “Trust me, love, the whole damn class heard about that stupid fucking party with the way you lot were running your mouths earlier,” he chuckles coldly, continuing in an exaggerated high-pitched voice, one hand coming up to mime twirling a lock of hair, “Oooooh, it’s so cold, can’t wear the fuckin’ strappy dress, gotta wear me jumper and little slutty skirt, la-dee-dah.” He finishes with a final huff of laughter. 

“What is your deal with me?!” You finally snap, glaring at him, even as you feel your face redden, “You’ve been a dick all semester and I haven’t done anything to you! I’ve never even talked to you!” Glancing around the empty hallway, you cross your arms over your chest, praying no one’s in earshot to hear your hissed tirade.

“I might not know you but I know plenty about your little friends,” he sneers, shaking his head like a disappointed father; the sight makes your blood boil.

“What does that even mean?” You demand, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. What did your friends have to do with any of this? None of them ever spoke about Michael, none of them even knew him as far as you were aware. 

His face softens, if only for a moment, as he registers the genuine confusion on your face, smirk faltering as his eyes narrow. He leans in closer to you as he begins speaking again and you can’t help but get a brief smell of the cologne he wears, something warm and woodsy that makes you think of a bookshop and the smell of the forest after it rains, “Come on,” he starts, blue eyes flitting between both of yours as he looks at you intently, “Felix Catton? You and your little friend, the one from class, you go around with him, yeah?”

You nod, giving him another puzzled look, confused as to what the hell Felix has to do with any of his disdain, “Yeah,” you say slowly, drawing out the word, “But, what does he have to do with anything?”

Michael huffs once more, almost laughing to himself as he shakes his head, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “See, we went to school together, him and I – some of primary, all of secondary,” he shrugs, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he traps you in his gaze once again, “And I just don’t fucking like the guy. Can’t stand him, never could’ve.” 

You’re silent for a second, and now it’s your turn to flick your eyes back and forth, searching each of his for some sort of coherent answer and yet you come up empty. “But, what does that have to do with me?” You ask slowly, making sure to carefully enunciate each word.

“Don’t trust the people around him either,” he mutters, gazing down at his shoe, “Weirdos, the whole lot. There’s something…off about the guy. Can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something dark there, all around him. Like he’s putting on one big show. All his little gremlins do too, they all act the same.”

The two of you are silent for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say next. You chance a glance up at him, nearly gasping when you find him already gazing at you – an unreadable expression on his face. Yet a light blush still blooms on your cheeks as you quickly look away once again, your heart thudding so loudly you’re wondering if he can hear it – hell, you’re wondering why you’re reacting this way at all, why you’re so shy and skittish around him. 

“M’not like that,” you very nearly whisper, finally seeming to regain your voice. Only to lose it once again when he takes a half step toward you, suddenly crowding you further into the small alcove.

He makes a small noise, damn near cooing at you, tilting his head to the side when he notices you flinch as he raises an arm, gently raising your chin with one hand, angling your head up to meet his gaze, that signature smirk once again taking hold on his face as he looks at you curiously, “You’re not like that, are you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy. 

You quickly shake your head, blinking up at him, unsure of what exactly he wants from you. You feel your cheeks stinging for the umpteenth time today with how hard you’re blushing, a strange feeling taking root in your stomach the longer you stare at him, that small voice in your head positively cheering. 

But, as quickly as whatever spell he seems to have on you takes hold, it’s broken as he suddenly lets go of your chin and steps back, casually pursing his lips and nodding to himself, coming to some unknown decision in his head, “Meet me in Bodleian, tomorrow at five. There’s hardly anyone up on the third floor on the weekends, so we'll be able to focus.” He says simply, turning on his heel to leave without even giving you a second to answer.

“But I’m bus–”

“D’you want a good grade or do you want to go get drunk with your creepy gremlin friends?” He asks, peering over his shoulder as he saunters down the hallway, raising an eyebrow at you over the shiny gold rim of his glasses, “S’your call, love.” He finishes with a shrug, disappearing as he turns a corner and leaves you standing there alone, frowning and dumbstruck. 

“Bodleian at five it is,” you mutter to yourself, sighing as you turn and walk the opposite way, desperately trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach and the fog in your brain. 

Your shoes tap against the stone pavement as you walk up to the old library, backpack slung over one shoulder; reaching into a pocket of your backpack, you blindly grab for your phone as you pull open one of the heavy, old wooden doors and step into the atrium. Out of all of Oxford’s libraries, you had to admit that Bodleian was one of your favorites; it had such a soothing atmosphere – from the way the evening light trickled in through the old glass windows, to the intricate wooden decor, and the way the entire place smelled of the old, well-loved books that lined the countless rows of shelves. 

Stepping to the side of the entryway, you check the time, your hand shaking a bit as you unlock your phone – 4:53pm, a little early, still. Sighing, you crane your head, nervously looking for Michael. Not seeing him, you decide to bide your time examining one of the tall bookshelves near the entrance, eyes skimming over their titles as you fiddle with the strings of the hoodie you’d decided to wear. Smiling, you lean up on your tiptoes to grab a copy of The Two Towers, happy to see a familiar book. Just as your fingers graze over the embossed gold lettering on the spine of the book, a large pair of hands grab you by the shoulders.

“Boo!” Someone whispers, close enough that you feel the warmth of their breath on the side of your neck. 

You spin around with a small shriek, jerking your head to the side when a hand is suddenly clasped over your mouth.

“Shh! Hey, relax!” Finally managing to focus on the face in front of you, your breathing slows as your gaze meets a pair of round blue eyes. Michael’s face is only inches from yours, concern evident, even behind the mask of a smirk he wears. “It’s only me.” He says softly, smirk softening into a genuine smile that sends a frantic tingle down your spine, which you desperately try to ignore as you nod against his hand, gasping in a small breath as it lowers once again to rest on your shoulder. 

“Hi.” Blinking up at him, you breathe the word more so than say it as you settle back on your feet, cheeks flushing as you realize he has his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you forward ever so slightly, like he wanted to make sure your head didn’t hit the sharp edge of one of the shelves; the voice in your head purrs as the butterflies in your stomach summersalt. 

“Hi.” He answers and you feel the hand on your shoulder twitch, the ghost of a comforting squeeze or rub causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end as some strange, warm weight settles in the pit of your stomach. 

Suddenly, whatever spell the two of you seemed to be under broke and you quickly clambered away from one another. Michael cleared his throat, running a hand through his wheat colored hair as you tugged at the sleeves of your hoodie, trying to look anywhere but in his direction. “Should we–” He starts suddenly, nodding his head to a staircase at the other end of the room, “It’ll be quieter up there.”

“Sure!” You chirp, giving him a curt nod, “Lead the way, you seem to know the place better than I do.”

“Well,” he chuckles, keeping his voice low as he moves past you, “S’what happens when you don’t spend all your damn time at weirdo parties.” 

You roll your eyes behind him, huffing as you start following him up the staircase, one of your hands gliding across the smooth, polished wood of the bannister. 

“Sorry.” He says suddenly as you reach the third floor of the library, running a hand through his hair once again as he stands at the top of the staircase. 

“What?” You ask, coming to a stop on the last step and looking up at him, tilting your head to the side as you lean against the handrail. 

“For earlier,” he explains, gesturing for you to follow him as he starts making his way to the back corner of the large, open space, the one furthest from the stairs, “Scaring you, I mean. Didn’t mean to.”

You’re quiet for a moment, following him as the two of you walk past aisle after aisle of towering bookshelves. The area is definitely quieter than the main floor, nearly vacant aside from one or two lone students sitting at the long wooden study tables. It’s calm up here, evening light filtering in through large windows on either end of the long room, casting large shadows on the floor and vaulted ceilings.

Eventually, the two of you come to a stop at a table, the very last in its row, tucked away in a corner. “It’s alright,” you shrug, trying to keep your voice soft in the quiet space as you sit your backpack on the edge of the table, “I don’t know why I’m so jumpy today, maybe the tea from earlier.” You lie, hopefully smoothly, and quickly grab a pen and notebook as well, before sitting down.

Michael huffs to himself as he sits his things out on the table as well, like he’s laughing at a joke you can’t hear, “Maybe it’s all that tension.”

“Wh– tension?” You question, cringing at the urgency in your voice as you pray that he doesn’t pick up on it, shifting in your seat as he pulls out the chair next to you and plops down, completely relaxed as if he owns the place. 

“The stress? That you were meant to be working out at Catton’s?” He gives you an odd look, resting his head against his hand as he leans his elbow on the table, “Couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation yesterday.”

“Oh…” You breathe, a pink haze settling over your cheeks once more as you fidget with your pen, acutely aware of how easily he seems to be able to make you blush. 

The smirk on his face widens as he narrows his eyes, studying you in a way that makes your heart squeeze, your thighs clenching together as that heady weight from earlier makes itself known again in your stomach, “You can’t keep one thought in that head, can you, love?”

You blink, unsure of what to say, as two halves of your brain argue with one another. Why is he so mean? You wonder to yourself, eyes searching his, as you frown, And…God, why do I like it?

“Why don’t you like me?” You ask, finally breaking the silence with your small voice. 

He scoffs again, shaking his head as if the answer should be obvious to you, “You don’t take it seriously. You come to class and whisper and gossip with your damn friend or doodle in your little notebook, but you don’t fucking listen.” He sits back up, frowning, “I work hard every fucking day in there, for fuck’s sake, I only agreed to help you because I want to be Davies’s teaching assistant next year! Yet you and Catton and everyone like you can just pay their way in here, collecting a little diploma from Oxford just so their parents can brag about it with their stupid fucking rich friends.” He finally finishes, turning his head to stare out the window. 

“Told you, I’m not like that,” you whisper after a moment, voice wavering from the tightness in the back of your throat, “I’m here on scholarship, same as you.” 

His eyes flit back to you, his frown deepening, “How did you know ab–”

“Like I’m not going to ask around about the guy tutoring me?”

“Fair enough.” He concedes after a minute. 

Silence settles over the two of you again, like a stalemate, waiting to see who would crack first. Finally, you turn to him with a sigh, nodding to your test paper on the desk, “Can we just get this done? I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”

“Ah, of course,” he nods as he picks up your test, looking over the first incorrect problem, “Catton’s big important party. And you’re stuck here with a loser like me; must really be doing your head in, huh?” 

You want so badly to correct him, to tell him that no, actually, for once, you were kind of excited to not be at one of Felix’s parties. You wanted to tell him that you’d hoped things would be different, maybe if it was just the two of you he would drop the arrogant asshole bit, that you stupidly hoped it was just an act. 

Instead, you bite your lip, determined not to lash out and give him another reason to dislike you, “I don’t think you’re a loser, Michael,” you say, tiredly meeting his gaze, “Can we just focus on this now, please?” 

He’s quiet for a moment, frozen like you’d said something groundbreaking. Finally, he nods his head, almost imperceptibly like he’d come to a decision you weren’t privy to, “Sure,” he says gruffly, grabbing your test and reading over the first incorrect problem, “S’not like I’m the one failing.” He finishes, his voice tight and determined, like he knew it was something he’d regret saying even as the words left his mouth. 

See? You think silently, pointed words aimed at that stupid voice in your head, Told you so.

It’s barely an hour later and you already feel cross-eyed, groaning as Michael flips your test over to the next page and you see you’re only just now halfway done correcting the ones you’d gotten wrong. You hate to admit it to yourself, but his tutoring was helping — problems that you’d hardly been able to finish the first time seem far less daunting as he explains them to you. Even he seems less daunting as the hour goes on; shockingly, he doesn’t make anymore snide comments and you can tell that he genuinely enjoys talking about the subject, patiently helping you through each problem. 

“Can we take a break?” You grumble, laying your head down on top of your textbook. 

“What?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he checks his watch, “It’s hardly been an hour and you’re ready to give up?” 

“‘M not giving up,” you mumble, “I just think we could use a little break…” You say hopefully, looking at him with a small smile. When he doesn’t break, holding your gaze with a frown, you sigh, “Just, like, ten minutes, please?” 

You want to groan again when you see that formidable smirk make its home on his lips again, “Say please again.” He commands, his voice low. 

“Huh?” You balk, nearly dropping your phone as you retrieve it from your pocket. 

“Say please again,” he says slowly, his smirk only growing wider as he watches your cheeks redden, “Beg.” 

“W-why?” You question, face burning as you try your damndest to look unbothered by his request. 

He shrugs dismissively, “Makes you squirm,” he answers finally, leaning back in his chair, “I like that.”

“Why?” Your voice is so small you doubt he’d even know you spoke if his eyes weren’t fixed on you. 

He hums, a satisfied noise, like you’ve finally managed to meander into a trap he’d set ages ago, “S’fucking cute,” he huffs out a laugh when he sees your eyes widen, “Makes you blush and act all dumb.” 

You know you should be offended, but you can’t find it within yourself to care, “You think I’m cute?” 

He chuckles, sighing, “That’s what you choose to focus on?” 

“Do you?” 

“Fine, yes.” 

“Please, Michael,” you say suddenly, the words feeling practically punched from your throat, “Please, please can we have a break? Please, only ten minutes?” You beg, breathing hard as you quickly scan the room, shoulders relaxing when you don’t see anyone else sitting at the study tables. 

You see the way his eyes widen behind his glasses, like he can’t believe you actually did it, before they narrow once more, overtaken by a satisfied gleam, “Ten minutes.” He says simply, leaning back in his chair yet again, letting his head flop back, relaxed, and closes his eyes. 

You don’t move for a second, letting your eyes study the side of his face, looking over his sharp jawline and the curve of his nose. After a moment, you look away, deciding to pull out your phone. 

A few minutes go by as you answer a few texts from Louise, telling her that you miss her too and how you wish you were at the party — a lie, though you can’t find it within yourself to care. You busy yourself for a while longer, watching a few people's Instagram stories, the volume on your phone muted as you watch your friends dance under colorful strobe lights, blowing smoke at the camera and clinking drinks together. 

“I meant what I said.” You say finally, laying your phone on the table and picking at one of your cuticles. 

“Hm?” Michael questions, not bothering to open his eyes. 

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you answer, fidgeting, “I never have. I think you’re…intriguing.”

“Intriguing?” He asks, finally sitting up and looking at you with a questioning stare, “How so?” 

You swallow, tucking your hair behind your ear with a shrug, “You’re smart…you know you’re smart,” you start, voice small and shaky, “I like that.”

“You like that or you like me?” He’s looking at you like a cat playing with a helpless mouse, looking at you like he knows he’s already won a game you don’t even know the two of you are playing. 

“You.” It comes out as a breath. 

He doesn’t answer and eventually you look away from him, choosing to stare out the window at the streetlights outside, the sky dark. 

Finally, the silence becomes overbearing and you break first again, “Thank you,” you smile at him, keeping your voice low even though you know the rest of the floor is vacant, even though the noise of the floors below has drastically faded over the last hour, “For helping me, I mean. You probably have a dozen things you’d rather do on a Saturday.” 

He stays quiet for a few seconds, “I didn’t really have anything better to do,” he smirks, “No parties.” 

“None?” 

“Never,” he shakes his head, shrugging, “Don’t get invited.” 

“Oh,” you answer simply, “Well, still, either way, thank you.” You smile again, but it falters when he leans forward suddenly, crowding into your space with a sly grin, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck. 

“I know a way you could repay me, love,” he whispers lowly into your ear, your hair standing on end, “Only if you want to, of course.” He adds, his long fingers toying with a strand of your hair. 

Your eyes grow comically wide as you process what he just said, “H-how do you want me to repay you?” You whisper, your eyes finally meeting his. 

He laughs softly, letting go of the strand of your hair to rest his hand lightly against the side of your face, his thumb skimming over your cheek as he watches a rosy hue settle across it, “I can think,” he starts, thumb moving lower to skate across your bottom lip, slightly tugging the skin with it, “Of one very fucking good way to put this mouth to use, love.” 

You part your lips slightly, letting the tip of his thumb into your mouth, just barely holding it between your teeth as you lightly run your tongue over it, heart skipping a beat at the way his lips just barely part in shock as you do. The voice in your head purrs again, roaring back to life, and you nod, smiling around his finger. 

“Yeah?” He questions, smirking as he watches your lips twitch around his thumb, “”Y’wanna?”

“Yes.” You reply around his thumb, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearm, the fabric of his rust colored sweater soft under your hands. 

“Beg.” He commands again, eyes twinkling. 

You take in a breath, eyes slipping shut as your thighs clench around nothing – missing the way Michael glances down at the movement, a knowing grin forming on his face, “Please, Michael.” You practically whine. 

“Ooh,” he coos, finally moving his thumb from your mouth, only to trail his hand down your neck, lightly resting it against your throat, “I think you can do better than that, pretty. Open your eyes and damn beg.” 

You follow his orders, a small whimper skirting past your lips at the new pet name as you open your eyes, “Please, Michael, please let me repay you, let me thank you, please.” The words tumble out, your eyes wide and pleading. 

“How’re you planning on doing that, empty headed little thing?” He taunts, the hand around your throat just barely tightening but it’s enough to make you let out a small, desperate whine. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, moving close enough to you that the front of his chest is plastered to your side, his heart beating against your shoulder, “Ask for what you want, beg properly.” His breath fans across the side of your face again, the feeling of his lips brushing over the side of your jaw making you jump. 

“Please, God, Michael,” you whine, squeezing your legs together so hard you’re surprised they haven’t fused together, “P-please let me suck your cock — to thank you, thank you for helping me.” You add quickly, breath shaky as you turn your head to look at him imploringly. 

He chuckles, but he looks pleased as he leans back momentarily, craning his neck to make sure there isn’t anyone around, “Alright, alright, love,” he soothes, coming back to face you, nodding his head to the empty space in front of his hair, below the table, “Not God, but I’ll give you what you want.” He teases.

Your breath catches in your throat as you look down at the floor beneath the desk, then back up at him before nodding, “Yes, sir.” You push yourself off your chair, sliding down beneath the desk. 

“Goddammit,” you hear him groan above you, running his palms over his thighs as he parts them, making room for you, “Keep that up, love, might even give you extra credit.” 

You rest your palms against the tops of his thighs as you move between his legs, getting comfortable on your knees, the old wooden floor cool against your skin, even through your black leggings. Finally, your eyes settle on the sizable bulge, covered by his dark jeans, and you can’t help the small whine that leaves your lips. Slowly, you move your hands up to the button of his pants, quickly popping it open and dragging the zipper down, smiling when Michael sighs above you as he pulls his sweater up out of the way, exposing the pale skin of his stomach. You let your eyes roam over him, warmth settling between your legs as you spot the dusting of light hair that starts beneath his belly button and leads downwards, disappearing under his plaid boxers.

You move closer to him, crowding in between his long legs, as you hook your fingers over the tops of his boxers, before finally looking up at him, “Can I…?” You ask, nodding to where his cock is straining against the fabric. 

“Don’t be shy now, princess,” he groans, running a hand through your hair as he stares down at you, “Get on with it.”

You keep your eyes on his as you pull his boxers down, just enough to free his cock, watching the way his chest heaves as he lets out another relieved sigh. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his as you look at his cock, gasping in a breath as you do. As far as dicks go, Michaels is impressive, beautiful even – long and thick with veins running up the underside, leading up to a flushed, leaking tip. 

You take him in your hand tentatively, squeezing him lightly around the base, your confidence growing when he grunts, breathing heavier. Finally, you lightly lick the tip, eyes sliding closed at the pleasant, salty taste of his pre-cum. You take the tip of him in your mouth, humming around him when his fingers tighten in your hair, lightly pushing on the back of your head, silently urging you to take more of him. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he roughly groans, managing to keep his voice low, “Knew that pretty fucking mouth was good for something.” He moves his hips, impatiently thrusting his cock an inch deeper into your mouth, breathily cursing under his breath. 

You start bobbing your head up and down over his length, taking more and more of him into your mouth, more of his pre-cum leaking onto your tongue as you feel his dick throb and twitch in your hand. After a moment, you take a deep breath through your nose and remove your hand, resting it on his thigh, as you take him all the way to the base, your nose nestled in the short patch of hair there as you breathe in his heady scent, your eyes glazing over as you savor the feeling of him at the back of your throat. 

“Jesus!” He grunts, louder than he meant to, keeping your head in place as he thrusts his hips up again, keeping you in place at the base of his cock, “Fuck, that’s it,” he praised lowly, your center throbbing, no doubt leaking onto the fabric of your leggings, “Look at me, wanna see your eyes while I fuck your throat.”

You whine, desperately blinking back tears as you look up at him, trying to keep your breathing even. You hold his gaze as you stick your tongue out, licking lower, down toward his balls, relishing the way his eyes roll back as you do, stomach muscles twitching as he continues thrusting his hips up into your mouth, soaking his boxers and jeans with your spit. 

“Oh, fuck, that’s it,” he groans, looking down at you, his eyelids heavy, “God, yeah, cry on my cock love. Fuck, you look so pretty crying on my cock.” He mumbles, talking to himself more so than you. 

His words send a shiver down your spine, adding to the heat in your center, and you whimper when he finally moves his hand from the back of your head, allowing you to come up for air. You do, with a gasp, thin strings of spit connecting your reddened lips with the flushed head of his cock. You keep your eyes on his as you wrap your lips around him once more, running your tongue along the thick vein on the underside before sucking at the swollen tip, relishing the way it makes him clench his jaw and gasp through his teeth as you stroke the rest of him with your hand. 

Above you, he smirks again, gently running his hand through your hair but making no move to press your head down again. He cocks his head to the side, studying you, grinning at the far-off, foggy look in your eyes, “Not a thought in that pretty head, is there?” He asks, bringing his hand down and gently patting your cheek; the ghost of a slap making your thighs clench, making your head dizzy with need. 

You nod around him, moving your head up and down along his length. You feel yourself throbbing with need, pulsing with heat; almost automatically, your hand starts to wander, a small sigh escaping you as your hand presses against your center through your leggings. You feel a warmth settle across your cheeks again as you feel your own wetness, leaking through the fabric just as you’d suspected. You whimper as you press down again, your eyes falling shut as you let your hips grind against your fingers, the wet fabric creating a delicious friction against your clit. 

Which you get to feel for all of five seconds before Michael is suddenly yanking your head from his length, causing you to yelp as he tugs your hair. “Did I say you could touch your cunt?” 

“N-no,” you whine pathetically, eyes watering from the harsh hold he has on your hair, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t think—“ You try to explain, only for him to cut you off with another harsh tug, making you mewl. 

“That’s a pattern with you, isn’t it?” He asks, looking at you with a condescending smirk, studying you again, “You were being such a good girl earlier, what happened? Hm?” He questions, pushing his chair back enough to pull you out from under the table. 

You get to your feet, suddenly feeling shy in front of him once again despite having his cock in your mouth mere moments ago. “I…got distracted.” You answer finally. 

“I got distracted….who?” He asks, looking up at you expectantly over the rims of his glasses. 

“I got distracted, sir,” you quickly correct yourself, eyes frantically scanning the still vacant floor of the library, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s much better, love,” he drawls, placing his hands on your hips, “Now, what could’ve been so fucking distracting, huh?” He starts moving his hands, slowly, toward your center, still looking up at you, his eyes questioning. You nod your head, just barely but enough for him to understand, and any hesitancy from him quickly disappeared. “Could it be this, I wonder?” He questions sardonically, suddenly cupping your heat in his large hand, the warmth of it nearly making your knees buckle, even through the thin fabric of your leggings. He hums, the sound low in his chest, when he feels how much you’ve soaked the fabric, 

“Oh,” you whimper, grabbing at his shoulders to keep yourself balanced as his fingers continue to tease you, rubbing circles into your clit, “Oh my God, fuck.”

“Christ,” he breathes, staring up at you with dark eyes, “So fucking wet, love, holy hell. Did you get this way just from sucking my cock?”

“Yeah,” you whine, nodding your head desperately as you try to swallow all the small noises you want to make in your throat, your hips rutting against his hand, “Please, sir!”

“Oh, so now that dumb brain has no trouble remembering damn instructions, huh?” He taunts, a wicked grin on his face as his fingers rub your clit in smaller, harsher circles, making you see stars, “Need your wet little cunt played with to be able to do as you're told?”

You nod your head frantically, tears nearly spilling from your eyes at the zaps of pleasure radiating from you, your walls clenching around nothing. Just as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge, he stops, jerking his hand away from you with a knowing chuckle, “W-what?” You question, eyes blinking open, “I was so close!” You whine, nearly stamping your foot on the floor like a petulant child. 

“Told you,” Michael shrugs, pulling you to sit in his lap, your back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. His breath tickles the side of your neck and face when he speaks again, “You’re so fun to tease, love, can’t help myself.”

You wiggle in his grasp, making him groan as your ass grinds against his hard length, desperately trying to get your hands free to touch your pussy again, nearly out of your mind with need. “P-please, sir, please touch me!” You finally gasp out, knowing he won’t give in until you do.

“Now there’s a good girl,” he says, voice pleased and cocky as he plants kisses along the side of your neck, “Since you asked so nicely…” He says, letting go of one of your arms, letting you grasp the arm still wrapped around you with your hands, as his free hand skirts down your stomach to the top of your leggings, pausing long enough for you to nod again, before he finally touches you. 

You whimper, jerking in his lap at the feel of his warm fingers directly on your heat for the first time, spreading your wet folds with a satisfied hum. His long fingers move down to your entrance, gathering some of the wetness there, “You’re so fucking wet,” he marvels, dragging his fingers up to your aching clit, “Fucking dripping on my fingers.” He murmurs in your ear, nipping at the side of your neck and sending tingles down your spine as he starts rubbing tight, wet circles against your bud. 

You tilt your head back, resting it against his shoulder as your chest heaves. A moan leaves your mouth, louder than it should be, and Michaels free hand shoots up, wrapping around your mouth. “Gotta be quiet, love,” he whispers, not slowing down the movement of his fingers in the slightest, “Wouldn’t want someone to interrupt, hm? Make me stop again?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, whining desperately against his hand as he moves his fingers against you, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter. Your whole body lurches atop his, making him suck a breath in through his teeth as you move against his cock, still hard and hot as it presses against your lower back, when he moves his hand lower, plunging two fingers into your tight heat with no warning. “Fuck!” You yelp, muffled against his hand; tears leak from the corners of your eyes as he moves his fingers, scissoring them into you relentlessly as his thumb circles your clit. 

“S’fucking tight,” he mumbles lowly, voice vibrating his chest against your back, “God, you’re tight.” He grunts between clenched teeth, repeatedly crooking his fingers inside you as he fucks his fingers in and out of your heat, letting out small, barely there groans every time your pussy squelches around his fingers as he punches muffled whines and whimpers from you. He crooks his fingers up suddenly in a way that makes you see stars as you writhe on his lap, your knees shooting up off the floor as you attempt to curl up on yourself, “That the spot?” He teases, relentlessly rubbing his fingers against it as his thumb quickens against your clit. He adds a third finger without warning, curling them up against that rough patch inside you as he bites down on your shoulder, muffling his own groan as he feels you clench down on his fingers. 

“You gonna come?” He mumbles, grinning like a cheshire cat when you frantically nod your head, tears leaking onto the hand still wrapped tightly around your mouth. “Open your eyes,” he commands, not stopping his movements, “Want you to watch what I’m doing to you when you fucking cum.”

At the promise of finally getting to come, your eyes shoot open as you pick your head up off his shoulder, looking down the length of your body to where his hand disappears under your leggings. You practically come undone at the sight, watching as his hand moves against you through the dark fabric, maintaining a careful rhythm. “Michael, please!” You whine against his hand, desperately trying to keep your eyes open. 

He chuckles lowly, clearly proud of how quickly he’s been able to reduce you into a begging mess, the sound reverberating off your back. “Fucking come,” he commands, doubling his efforts, “Soak my fucking hand, love.”

The coil in your stomach finally snaps and you sob, eyes snapping shut as your whole body clenches, shaking in his lap, as fireworks burst behind your eyelids. Your entire core clamps down so tight he has to fight to keep his fingers within you, muting the sounds of his groans against your neck and shoulder as he feels your cunt pulse against his fingers. He doesn’t let up, pressing incessantly against that spot within you as you come, until he finally gets what he wants – both of you groaning together, noises muffled, as a stream of fluid seems to erupt from your center, soaking his hand and the inside of your leggings, though you can’t think enough to care at the moment. 

“Goddammit,” he grunts, finally removing his hand from your leggings, running his fingers through your folds one last time just to make you squirm. Suddenly, he’s lifting you off his lap enough to turn you around, maneuvering you to face him. You’re practically boneless in his lap as he lifts you just enough to pull your leggings down over your ass, pressing his bare cock against your still throbbing center when he sets you back down, “Gonna let me fuck you, love? Hm? Want me to make you go dumb around my cock?” 

You nod your head weakly, not bothering to lift it from his shoulder as you straddle his lap. He doesn’t make you beg this time, too desperate to feel your wet heat around him, as he swiftly lifts you up again, just enough to align his length with your entrance. 

Both of you moan as he lets you sit back down, his hard length disappearing into your warmth. He holds the back of your head, pressing your mouth against his neck to muffle your cries; you can feel his jaw clench with the effort of keeping his own muted. He fills you deliciously, thick cock pressed against every part of you, as your clit presses against the small thatch of hair above his length. 

“Fuck,” he huffs, the word hissed between his teeth as he squeezes his eyes shut, savoring the way your pussy pulses around his length, the way you desperately mouth and lick at his neck, “God, knew you’d feel good.” 

Somehow, that remark works it’s way through the fog in your brain, “Hm?” you hum against his neck, your hands coming up to tangle in his golden hair, “You thought about me?” You whimper, words whiny and breathy as he rocks you against him, spearing you on his length again and again, head kissing your cervix just enough to knock the air from your lungs every time he lowers you back down. 

He sighs, as if just now realizing what he’d said, and nods, swallowing down a moan before he speaks, “‘Course I did,” he admits, grinding you down against him, his hips pressed against yours. “Looked so damn pretty in class,” he continues, “So cute all, fuck, all flushed and embarrassed every time you got asked a question.” 

His admission makes you clench around him, heat flooding through your system as you process what he’d said. Your clit grinds against his body again, just as the head of his cock brushes against that spot in your center, and it’s like your brain has been whited out, all you can do is mewl against his neck as he rocks you up and down along his cock. 

“Fuck, I feel this sweet cunt getting tight, love,” he says, breathing heavily as he gets closer to his own release, “Y’gonna come?” 

“Yes!” You whimper, voice high-pitched and broken as you nod frantically against the skin of his neck, now wet with your spit and tears as you rock yourself against him, moving your clit against the hair at the base of his cock. 

“Hold it,” he commands softly, more breathing than speaking. He chuckles when he hears you whine, loving the way you mewl for him like a soft little kitten, and the hand still holding your head against him strokes your hair, soothing you. “Want us to come together,” he huffs, cursing under his breath as he feels you grow somehow tighter around him, “Fuck, I’m close just hold on.” The hand on your hip tightens, grinding you tightly against him, groaning as he feels your center milking his cock, your walls clenching around him desperately. 

“F-fuck, Michael,” you whine, breath hot against the column of his throat as you feel yourself tipping over, “Please! Please I can’t hold it, please!” You beg beautifully, weeping against his skin, trying so hard to keep it down to a whisper so you don’t draw attention, not this close to your release. 

“Where, fuck,” he curses, pulling your head up to look in your eyes, the blue in his nearly swallowed by blackness, “Tell me where.” He pants, his voice urgent.

“Inside me!” You breathe, cunt clenching around him as you feel him twitch inside you.

He groans, forehead resting against your shoulder for a second as he tries to maintain control, both of his hands gripping your ass hard enough to leave bruises, “Are you s–”

“Yes!” You nod, resting your forehead against his when he picks his head back up, “‘M on the pill.” You reassure him as you keep nodding. The two of you move together for a few more seconds, wildly grinding together, before the coil in your stomach is finally wound too tight, “Michael, oh, fuck!”

“Fuck,” he gasps, seeming to get somehow thicker inside you, “Come for daddy, fuck, be good and come.” He commands, his own voice low and frenzied.

Hearing him call himself that does you in, and you shatter around him, walls gripping him tightly. You open your mouth, unable to control a loud moan, which he quickly hushes by pressing his lips against yours, licking into your mouth as he thrusts up into your center harshly a few times, each rise of his hips accompanied by a grunt into your waiting mouth as you mewl at the heat of his cum filling you up, extending your own release. 

The two of you stay quiet for a moment, breathing heavily as you sweetly kiss, tiredly pressing your lips together. Finally, you pull away from him giggling shyly when you meet his eyes, blushing as you feel his length slowly softening inside you. “Getting shy on me now?” He teases, smiling at you as he gently plays with your hair. 

You smile back at him for a second before suddenly coming to your senses and remembering where you are, “Shit,” you whisper, hopping up off his lap, “I cannot believe we just did that!” You quickly scan the floor with wide eyes, shoulders visibly relaxing when you still don’t see anyone.

“Wasn’t in my plan,” Michael starts, tucking his member back into his boxers and zipping up his jeans, “But I’m certainly not complaining.” He finishes, smirking at you before standing. He leans down, helping you pull up your leggings. He doesn’t miss the way you grimace when the damp, now unpleasantly cool, fabric presses against you. “Sorry,” he apologizes, gesturing to them, “I should’ve…controlled myself better with that one.” He finishes, awkwardly scratching at his chin. 

You laugh quietly, trying to play it off although you’re dreading the half hour train ride back to your flat. That feeling doubles when you look down, eyes widening as you see the dark patch around your crotch, hardly visible on the dark fabric but enough that it makes you nervous, “Getting home is gonna be fun.” You joke, turning to begin gathering your things. 

You’ve gotten your textbook put back into your backpack when you feel a tap on your shoulder; turning your head, you look wide-eyed when you see him sheepishly smiling at you, holding his red sweater out as he stands in a band t-shirt, “Here,” he says softly, waving the sweater at you, “You need it more than I do and it’s my fucking fault anyway.”

You blush, taking the sweater from him with a small thank you, tying it around your waist as he busies himself with picking up his things, before putting the rest of yours into your backpack as well, “Oh, you didn’t have to do that!” You tell him as you finish situating his sweater around you, satisfied that the stain is covered.

He huffs out a laugh, “You sucked my cock on the floor of a library,” he jokes, eyes sparkling with mischief yet again, “S’the least I could do.” 

You laugh, playfully shoving at his shoulder as you put your backpack on. The floor is truly, blessedly, empty as the two of you leave and walk downstairs, not seeing anyone on the second floor either and only a few stragglers on the main floor at this hour on a Saturday evening. He pushes open one of the heavy wooden doors at the entrance, holding it open for you as you duck under his arm. The door thuds closed behind you as you both stand outside the library, the air cold now that the sun’s gone down. 

“I really like them, that band,” you say, nodding to his shirt, “Their last album’s really good.”

“Oh!” He says, eyebrows raising in surprise, “You know them?” He asks, smiling when you nod again, “Their new album is probably my favorite too, actually.” The two of you stand in a comfortable silence for a second later before he notices you shiver as a breeze blows through the stoney courtyard. “D’you live close to campus?”

“Half hour on the train,” you shrug, pulling your phone out to check the time, “I should probably go soon if I’m gonna catch the next one…”

“You could come to mine?” He asks, his voice hopeful, “It’s only a walk from here, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes?”

Your eyes widen, having not expected his invitation, but you nod nonetheless, “If you’re sure,” he nods, “Then, yeah! That would be great.” You smile, walking beside him as you start heading in the direction of his flat. 

“Would you maybe want to get lunch sometime?” He asks, glancing down at you.

“I would love that,” you smile, your hand brushing against his as you continue down the sidewalk, “I think I might need more tutoring, too…”

His hand catches yours, your fingers intertwining as he smirks, “Will you suck my cock every time?” He teases, grinning as you laugh, the sound echoing off the buildings and filtering into the night air. 

Told you so. The voice in the back of your mind echos as you lean your head on Michael’s shoulder.

tagged lovelies: @schniiipsel @arcielee @darlingofvalyria @aemshaircare @imaegontatgaryenwife0 @valeskafics @beautbuck @watercolorskyy @marysucks-blog @fan-goddess @drakonflames @helloworldiamnotarobot

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[runariya]

Part 2 of this | shout out to @slut4jeon who made this happen part of the prompt game pairing: metro inhabitant!Jungkook x survivor!female reader genre: apocalypse!AU, S2L warnings: survival after nuclear fallout, foul language, basically just smut, jealous JK, oral (f. receiving), a bit of handjob, boobplay, fingering, squirting, a bit of eating out and finger sucking, unprotected seggs, a bit of cock warming, spanking, body worshipping, they are just whipped for each other, rough possessive seggs, JK's a bit whiney, cum shot, lmk if I forgot smth word count: 1.336

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Living in the Metro is, to say the least, completely unexpected. It’s like stepping into an alternate universe compared to the outside world. Not that it’s entirely safe here, with certain stations better avoided, especially when you’re on your own, but it’s still so much safer than anything you could have ever wished for.

What’s also otherworldly is living with Jungkook. It’s not only a luxury but like living in a constant dream. You’d never have believed you’d find someone like him, not even when the world was green, and the skies were blue before everything fell apart. But here you are, living the dream because Jungkook is the best partner you could ever hope for.

There isn’t a single day that passes where he isn’t more than willing and eager to please you to the best of his abilities—abilities that are beyond heaven. If you’re sad? He fucks you. If you’re happy? He fucks you too. And if you’re angry with him for reasons you can’t even recall? He’s usually the one responsible for making you forget in the first place.

You’d never complain, though, and never would you deny him or the multitude of orgasms he grants you day in and day out.

Like right now. He saw a seller at Riga Station, the trading hub of the Metro, being a bit too friendly with you. The man even gave you a rare flower, despite everyone knowing you belong to Jungkook. Hoseok just wanted to wind him up, and you suspect he did it on purpose.

“Sit down,” Jungkook orders, pacing the small room while his jaw ticks dangerously. You obey, clutching the flower tightly, not at all scared but rather anticipating the ‘punishment’ you know is coming.

“So now you’re collecting gifts from every man in—”

“I’m not collecting anything, Kook, he gave it to me volunta—”

“Voluntarily?! You didn’t just say that.”

You nod, biting your lip to suppress a smile as you watch Jungkook spiral further into frustration.

“Are you still looking for someone better? Is that it?”

“You never give me flowers,” you pout dramatically, and when Jungkook gestures with both hands to the wall overflowing with flowers and other gifts, you almost feel guilty enough to stop the game and tell him how good he is to you.

Almost.

But you don’t, because his next words are exactly what you’ve been waiting for.

“Maybe I need to remind my girlfriend who’s worthy of her.”

And as Jungkook strides towards you, ripping his army shirt off, you toss the flower aside you don’t care about. In seconds, he’s on you, crushing his lips against yours, his lip piercings digging into your lower lip as his hands grip every inch of your body.

You’re both naked in the blink of an eye, Jungkook alternating between sucking and licking your nipples while you jerk his perfect, hard cock. The sight of him worshipping your body like this never gets old, and his touch is never the same twice.

“I’m going to make sure I’m the only one on your mind.”

Jungkook’s fingers glide down to your cunt, pushing two fingers inside once you’re wet enough. The way his thick fingers stretch you sends stars exploding behind your eyelids, and the pace he sets, combined with his mouth and free hand still working on your tits, is utterly intoxicating. 

It’s insane how he can fuck you so perfectly with just his fingers, knowing exactly where to touch you. When he adds a third finger, thrusting as deep as he can, you know he’s not messing around this time. The burn from the stretch only intensifies when he rasps into your ear, “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

“Kook!” you cry as he presses particularly hard. You didn’t know he could be this possessive, but God, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a man.

“Scream my name, love! Let everyone in this forsaken hellhole know who owns you.”

“Jungkook!” you moan as his fingers thrust relentlessly into you, his wrist occasionally grazing your clit, sending you even higher.

“Fuck yeah. My goddess.”

Your tits and neck are littered with hickeys at this point, and you’ve forgotten all about his cock in your slackened grip, but he doesn’t care. He never cares—his sole focus is your pleasure.

It’s when Jungkook leans back, looking down at you with his lips swollen and shining, that it all undoes you. Your orgasm crashes through you, fast and hard, and even though he’s made you squirt before, it never fails to shock and slightly embarrass you.

But Jungkook doesn’t let you dwell on that. He pulls his fingers out, licks them clean, and then dives straight between your legs, licking up every drop like always.

You’re spent, completely worn out, but you know it’s far from over. His cock is standing proudly, angrily red and ready for its well-deserved attention.

You’d like to give him head, but you know you wouldn’t survive it after what he just did to you. Jungkook, knowing you too well, simply lines himself up and pushes inside without breaking eye contact.

Every inch of him makes your head spin, especially when he bottoms out completely, filling you in a way that makes you never want to be without him.

You’re confused for a moment when he doesn’t move, and then you catch his lazy, wicked smirk. His hands run up and down your thighs before hooking them under your knees and pushing you further into him, making you moan involuntarily.

“You’re going to accept gifts from other men?”

You hesitate. Should you tease him further or stop while you’re ahead?

“Yes?” you test, but it’s clearly the wrong answer.

Jungkook’s hand smacks your ass, making you yelp, moan, and clench around him, only causing that smirk to grow.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“I said yes.”

Another smack, another moan.

“You think this is funny?”

There’s something about a jealous Jungkook that hits differently, and despite knowing not to push him too far, you also know what’s coming is exactly what you both crave in this doomed world.

“Yes.”

Again, his hand strikes your ass, and this time you can’t hold back, your cunt squeezing so violently around him, coating his abs and thighs with a new wave of arousal. 

“How about I fuck that ‘yes’ out of you, huh?”

There’s no time to answer before Jungkook slams into you without mercy, stealing any possible words from your lips.

“Where’s your big mouth now?”

It’s gone, completely useless. You can only pant in time with his brutal thrusts, his fingers digging deeper into your legs as he forces you even closer, higher, as you cling to his wrists, tears forming from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Scream my name, ____.”

He thrusts harder, but your voice is stolen, only broken cries escaping your lips.

“Scream!” Another slap across your by now red ass, the only thing holding you together is his massive cock.

“Jungkook!” you finally cry out, so loud you swear it echoes not only through you both but through the entire Metro as well. 

“Again.” Smack.

“Jungkook! Yes!”

“That’s right.”

And with that, you’re gone, chanting his name with every thrust, every drop of sweat that falls from him onto your body. Your next orgasm washes over you without mercy.

You know he’s close, too, when he abruptly pulls out like he always does and starts jerking himself off. 

With his eyes locked on you, he comes with a desperate whine, spilling white all over your body like a masterpiece.

He’s beautiful, your gorgeous, perfect boyfriend.

Jungkook collapses onto you, and your fingers instinctively find their way into his hair while he catches his breath.

“You know there’s only you, right?”

He grumbles in response.

“I love you, Kook. Don’t think otherwise.”

“I love you too,” he grumbles again, voice still muffled, but you don’t mind. It just makes him even more endearing.

“Good, because you’re not getting rid of me.”

[kuniihoonii]

Overstimulating sub!aventurine // HC

Minors DNI // 18+

Warnings: overstimulation (obviously), nipple play, praising, handjob, aven goes into subspace <3. Not proof read.

A/N: It's been a hot minute since I wrote anything, specifically smut related so I decided go do a headcannon to kind of ease myself into writing again 😋. If you have any ideas for headcannons you'd like to see, feel free to send me an ask !

I feel like he's already pretty sensitive... like.. everywhere. So when I say overstimulate him, I don't only mean his pretty cock. Overstim his cute nips too~ suck on them or roll your thumb of them, it'll drive him insane <3. If you're giving him a handjob while also playing with one of his nips.. oh god 😵‍💫. He'd let out such loud moans if you do that <3. He'd already be quite loud, he just can't help it~ he's also going to try and pretend what you're doing doesn't effect him but that won't last long.

Now... when he cums the first time and you keep going, he'll whimper out "wait I just ahh came." He'd get so whiny <33. He'd try to grab your hand but he'll stop himself because he wants to be good for you. If you wanna be mean, keep playing with his nips too. If you wanna be a little nicer then just focus on his cock <3. Either way he'll be a moaning, broken mess <3.

Praise him while doing this !!! He'll completely melt. Tell him how good he's doing for you, how good he's taking you. Call him a good boy <3. Your angel <3. Mixing the overstimulation with praise will break him further <3.

That makes me think... Aventurine going into subspace 😵‍💫. He'll start begging and not even knowing what he's begging for. All he knows is the pleasurable pain he's feeling along with the praise you're giving him. Cup his cheek with your free hand and kiss him <3. Let's say you already made him cum twice. Tell him "just one more, yeah? You can do that for me, angel, can't you?" He'll whine but he'll nod "mkay." Call him a good boy for going so long <3.

Keep kissing him <3. Kiss his cheeks, lips, jawline and his pretty neck <3. He'll be grabbing onto you, wanting to keep you close <33. God and his fucked out face when he cums for the last time 😵‍💫. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes rolling, that cute blush on his face and his hair disheveled. He'd hold you tighter and let out such a pretty whine <333.

Once you're done with him. Clean him up and let him know how good he's done and how proud you are of how long he lasted <3. It'll feel strange to him, being taken care of so well. He loves it though, he loves being loved and he hopes you never stop loving him. Actually... tell him "I love you" after that, he'll be so happy <3. He's probably gonna pass out after all that. Almost resting his whole body on yours and his face in your neck as he dozes off.

[swivi]

Be warned. This is my first time writing something like this, so it may contain some errors. I was actually quite stressed while writing this and didn't want to disappoint anyone so..if you have any suggestions. Feel free to send them to me. Just no hate please and thank you..enjoy🩷

The almighty k'uhul Ajaw is tired of you both being oblivious.

It started as a joke, Ajaw would see you both being close and then proceed to mock kinich about how obvious his crush was for you. Now it was just tiring. It was safe to say the Almighty k'uhul Ajaw was at his limits.

First strike

You both had decided to hang out with each other at a new resturant and ajaw had to come along because of this stupid contract with Kinich...Oh the humiliation he thought. Having to watch you both throw "secret" glances at each other was actually driving him insane. "How much longer?" Safe to say Ajaw could not find his appetite that day. It was true torture for the poor pixel dragon lord.

Second strike

You both getting jealous easily. Whether it was from him talking to mualani and {{name}} getting jealous or you talking to the traveler and him getting jealous. It would never end..The almighty k'uhul was actually close to his limit.

It was another day at the Scions of the Canopy and the traveler and paimon had decided to come over for a visit. While on the way, they bumped into both you and Kinich, who both seemed to be happily walking away..well you were doing the talking while he listened.

As the two walked closer, paimon couldn't help but speak. "Hey..doesn't Kinich seem a little more softer when talking to {{name}}? It's actually quite funny..", The traveler nodded along seemingly getting her point. As the two slowly made their way over to the two people talking. Seeing the traveler and paimon, you quickly waved them over with a smile.

Quickly forgetting about what you were walking about as you conversed with the traveler. It was quite obvious that kinich was glaring at the two and paimon couldn't help but sweat nervously floating over to the traveler. "H-hey...Paimon thinks we should go..", Paimon nervously whisperied to the traveler. The traveler seemed confused at first, before finally feeling the glare as they glanced over, some of the passing tribe members also seemed to be quite scared as they throwed nervous glances at something. The Traveler slowly turned around and, there and behold stood Kinich. He seemed rather calm, but something about how he was staring at the two without blinking was actually quite scary. It basically screamed "Leave before I make you."

Safe to say the two quickly made a excuse to quickly go. Leaving a confused {{user}}, a seemingly happy Kinich and a frustrated Ajaw that had to witness the entire thing.

As the traveler and Paimon walked off, Paimon finally broke down. "That was so scary..Paimon thought she was gonna die!". Paimon yelled in slight fear and panic. For the first time, the traveler seemed to agree as they both scurried away for their lives

Third strike(Final strike)

Everyone has their limits..even the small Pixel dragon that claims to be a god.

Kinich had finally decided to ask you out on a date after 7 long months. To which you agreed to, excited yet nervous at the same time. The date was meant to be on a nearby cliff, when the sun was going down and the world fell almost completely silent. And completely silent it was as none of you had gotten the courage to talk to each other, leading the setting to be quite awkward. That's when he finally had enough, even watching a group of ants would be more entertaining than watching two awkward adults.

Ajaw was practically bright red, as he finally went on a rant. "God! Can you both be anymore dense!? Kinich likes you, he thinks about you every night and almost every thing he sees reminds you of him. And you...", Ajaw turned his pixel body to you. "Your both so obvious that even the saurians probably know you like him! The almighty k'uhul Ajaw is tired of this you hear me tired! He deman-" As quickly as he appeared, the pixel dragon was now nowhere to be seen clearly put in time out as a small sigh escapes Kinich's lips.

A tense silence filled the air around you both, with only the occasional sounds of the wind and birds flying off to god knows where. After what felt like forever. Kinich finally broke the silence, clearing his throat with a light blush present on his face. Kinich turned to you, for the first time...he actually looked quite nervous. Which was surprising. He was always to composed and calm time. As kinich turned to meet your eyes, he finally found it in himself to speak.

"I'm sorry about Ajaw..he can be quite annoying at times, although what he said was true..I've been quite tired of hiding my feelings for you and the truth is, I really like you {{name}}. I know I'm not one with words..and I can be quite blunt at times, but what I speak is only the truth. I really liked you..for quite a while now." Kinich spoke, his voice holding a unusually soft tone to it.

A few minutes later had passed, and it was obvious what had taken place as you both we're now sitting closer to each other. His hands holding yours, as you both looked off into the distance. Maybe having ajaw wasn't too bad, for the first time Kinich thought.

In another space

Ajaw was seen practically fuming with anger as he cursed Kinich in the darkness

"Curse you kinich! Just you wait...the almighty k'uhul Ajaw will have his revenge soon!" Ajaw yelled off in the darkness.

To be continued

"Next chapter: Ajaws plans of revenge"

[teddybeartoji]

Thoughts on Massage session with bff/roommate/bf gojo [idk who to assign this thought to, I just love the 3😵‍💫]

omfgggggggggggg massage sessions with roomie!gojo........... like really random ones. you're in the kitchen, making tea or smth when he comes from the gym, groaning and moaning about how his body hurts from the last session. you hear him plop down onto the couch and you just can't NOT tease him yk. aw, poor baby. etcetc and he just groans back at you from inside the pillow.

and then you join him in the living room and he's just........... laying on his stomach on the couch and it's so hard to ignore how good his back looks....... he's been hitting the gym so much and it's clearly paying off bc he's getting bigger and bigger every day. and you kind of... do want to reward him for that.

so, you place your mug onto the coffee table and then simply sit on his lower back. he's so startled that he almost elbows you by accident but you just laugh and tell him to relax. the tips of his ears go a little red, though. he's just surprised, okay? he's not flustered at all.

you situate yourself a bit further back, so you're sitting on his ass now and he hides his face into his arms (this pose makes his biceps look fucking insane btw). you ask him where does it hurt as you're letting your hands just glide all over his back, feeling the muscles contract under your soft touch. he just grumbles out a quiet everywhere. he's kinda cute sometimes, huh.

you start making your way up from his lower back, kneading the tight muscles, really working on the places that make him tense up and hiss under his breath.

harder. a smile creeps onto your lips and you revel in the chance of teasing him again; you ask him to repeat that and it takes a whole ten seconds for him to do it but alas - a low harder, please emits from the man below you. leaning down closer to him, you blow a little air into his ear and he stirs, giving you a peek at the pout on his lips. i hate you.

you can't hold back the burst of laughter that's bubbling up because of his childish actions. i'm literally giving you a free massage and this is how you thank me? you give his hair a ruffle before continuing on his back, now with much more pressure.

you don't stop until you feel all of the knots disappearing. satoru is now completely limp under you, only a few faint groans leaving his lips every once in a while. you rub his shoulders, digging your thumbs into his delts to make sure that all of his upper body has been taken care of. you give his neck a little attention too, drawing slow gentle circles into the back of it.

as the last thing of the treatment, you inch your fingers into his hair and you're sure you just heard him purr but to your own surprise - you don't comment on it. his hair is so soft (it always is) and you're now kind of doing this for your own pleasure. you twirl a strand between your fingers and then rake all of your fingers through it like a comb. he hums and you feel it travel through his body below you.

you give his head exactly two pats before sitting back down onto his ass while dragging your fingers one final time along his back. you draw a happy face into the big canvas and then climb off of him, throwing yourself down onto the armchair next to the couch. your tea is now cold but you're not mad. how could you be when you spot his shut eyes from between his now messy hair and his bicep; his whole body is rising and falling so slowly, faint breaths leaving his lips. ok, he looks very cute like this.

+ thank u nonnie for sending me this!!!!!!!! i love massages and i especially love them when it's just a Couple Of Friends who are doing it yk hihhihihihi

[astuteology]

Has this ever happened to you?

Placements that you should keep an eye on-

[Edit:don't be confused about the placements i mentioned below. Ask if you have any doubts. Share your own experiences with these placements. And read the title carefully! The placements alone may or may not cause this, some other placements can alter that as well. Still if you have any confusion or doubts, you can send me your birth details with your question and ill be more than happy to answer! {I dont charge :)}]

Any planet (except for outer) as your 5th lord, sitting in the 12th house: look at the sign, sidereal (It is VERY important to look at the sidereal placements for accuracy). Besides having soooo maaaany hidden talents, it attracts hidden stalkers. For eg- sun sitting in the 12th house as the 5th house lord in the sign leo, anyone with leo placements will go INSANELY crazy for you and they WILL NOT hear "no" from you. It is very invasive and disgusting, potentially leading to feelings of anxiety and fear in you.

Lilith in the 1st house: 5th, 7th, 10th and 12th are also affected with this BUT lilith in the 1st is THE MOST AFFECTED PLACEMENT. No matter what sign you have, one thing is for sure no one will stand up for you, no will be ever be real with you, everyone will try to humble you down. Especially with females, not one female friend of yours is true to you, nor they ever will be. Not even the new friends that you'll be making. Now if you are feeling that no it is not like that my friend is not like that, wait, time will tell the truth.

Mars in cancer: worse if its in the 4th and retrograde. Mars doesn't do well with emotions, it's an energy and it wants to be set free. One thing is sure, your family is against you no matter how much they tell you and show you that they love you. It's an act. Wait until you evasdrop.

For women; men will try to dominate you, tell you things you want to hear, to gain control over you. For men; all of your male friends, are not your friends. All. Of. Them. If you are committed, women will try to manipulate you into leaving your partner. Do not.

Pisces/Sagittarius/cancer sun/moon in the 12th house: first and foremost, I salute you for surviving 🫡. If youre thinking "it will get easy", it. Will. Not. You will eventually have to remove yourself from whatever gave you hell.

Saturn+moon+north/south node in the 2nd, 4th, 6th or 12th: the good side is; WONDERFUL self control, GREAT and in depth knowledge of humans, it can take you to great positions but with perseverance. Now the negatives; anxiety that is almost impossible to control. Irrational fears. Women figures in your home or relatives will always be after you to attack you. It will definitely take you away from your home (physical or mental distance). But you will always be chased after by your family, relatives, cousins, oldest friends, ex friends, exes.... I mean the jealous ones.

Scorpio rising/ascendant: the ones you consider your "loved ones" or "closest to me", do they feel the same about you?.... hmm?. Read that again.

You need to be very very VERY cautious with people you meet, your every friend, even the childhood ones, literally everyone, even your siblings or cousins. They may or may not be real with you. Look for- guilt tripping, victim card, women's card, attention seeking, emotional manipulation, using your past against you, grandiosity, self centeredness (even if it is subtle), gaslighting by minimization, emotional triangulation, love bombing, projection reversal, etc. If you suspect someone close to you has narcissistic tendencies, cut them off. If your can't, ignore them. I know it is hard, but you will not give them power over you.

Neptune on the ascendant: no one will ever know the real you. No one will ever believe you. Even if you tell them about yourself. There's no "first impression is the last impression" for others, it's "someone told me you are like that so i'll always believe you are like that" for others. Annnd its also gonna come from the people you never expected.

8th house synastry with your best friends, cousins or siblings: ooooffff.... that shit will hurt badly. Once there is "THAT" fight, ykwim, there's no going back. No rebuilding bonds, no trusting anyone ever again, emotional exhaustion. Watch them tell your secrets to the people you both disliked, watch them replace you so quickly, watch them do the things they told you they will never do, watch them befriend people they said were not nice, watch them playing the victim card. And then one day they'll come back again and act like they've changed, when its just to use you again. A whole new level of narcissism here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There are more! Stay tuned.

[mikkomacko]

Him and I- Devil-ween

Nico Hischier x reader, Mob Boss!Nico

Warnings: None

A/n: HAPPY HALLOWEEN FRIENDS!! Here’s a little something to give you an idea of Halloween in the mob universe. Hope you all love it and as always feel free to send me and questions or comments!

____________________________________________

The breeze blowing off the water is crisp and cool, not that you mind. Fall weather isn’t your favorite, always bouncing back and forth between hot and cold, but you prefer it over the sticky and humid summers. The sun is just a little too hot with your sweater on, so you welcome the cold wind.

You swipe away the strands of hair that have stuck to your lip gloss in the breeze, tucking them behind your ear before reaching for Nico’s hand again.

He’s holding his out for you, fingers widened so you can intertwine yours with his. Leaves crunch under your sneakers, the limbs of trees on the waterfront slowly turning to bare bones.

Nico likes the fall, likes the colors of the trees and being able to wear his beanies and cardigans. So he mosies as the two walk along the waterfront, the morning sun casting a funky shadow of your forms walking together.

“I was thinking,” he says after taking a sip of his to-go coffee, lightly squinting as he looks to you. “We should have a party at the house for Halloween, instead of doing the bar thing.”

In all the years you’ve known Nico (and the Devs), they’ve never not spent Halloween at the bar. Nico lets them go insane with it, fog machines and fake spider webs, elaborate costumes and way too much alcohol.

“You want to throw a party?” You question, and he shrugs. “And by you, you mean me? Because you’re a terrible decorator and cannot for the life of you match a menu to a theme.”

Nico opens his mouth, eyebrows scrunched together in defiance. He falters though, immediately closing his mouth and looking off towards the river. “Alright fine, I’m bad with parties,” he concedes and you giggle gleefully. “But I want this to be our party. We plan it all together.”

He stops walking, tugging you by the hand into his chest and then taking a hold of your waist. The wind and leaves blow around you, dog walkers and morning joggers keep moving down the waterfront path. But you and Nico stay still, everything moving around you two.

You fiddle with the top button of his cardigan, the one he always leaves open. “Together?” He nods, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on your hip.

“Ok,” you agree, excited to finally have a holiday at the overly large house the two of you have built. You’ve had gatherings before, but nothing formal, nothing like this. Like it’s a family tradition in the making. “But we still have to put out candy for trick or treaters.”

Nico smiles, not at all deterred by your bargain. Trailing your hand up his shoulder and around his neck, you lightly urge him to lean down even more.

“But you’re wearing a costume.”

He kisses you before you can protest, gentle and sweet lips muffling the sound of indignation that squeaked out of you.

You can feel his evil little smirk against your mouth.

~~~~

“This is useless,” you groan, “I don’t even like Halloween.”

Nico tries really hard not to laugh at that, biting the inside of his cheek as he sorts through the hoards of decorations that have come in these past couple weeks. Moving the red string lights to the stack of outdoor decor, he glances over to see you fighting with the flame cutouts, trying to figure out how the different layers fit together to make it look like real fire.

Something on the cutouts snaps into place, and for a moment your frozen but relief glimmers in your gaze as you gently set them on the living room floor. Only for the flames to clatter onto the hardwood in pieces.

“That’s it, I’m not coming.” You say, furious and annoyed as you shove all decorations away from you. Nico’s never seen you like this, so frazzled over something that’s supposed to be fun. He thought you’d eat up any chance to have all the boys over, to host something for them.

Apparently he was wrong.

“Come on baby,” he tries sympathetically, standing over you. Holding his hands out, he helps you up from the floor. “Don’t be a grump.”

“Me?” You deadpan, blinking at him. “I’m the grump?”

“Yes,” he laughs, “a cute one, but still a grump.”

You roll your eyes at him, blowing the baby hairs off your face with a puff of annoyed air and Nico takes it upon himself to brush them away for you.

“I don’t even like Halloween Nico.” You whine.

“You said that already baby.”

“But it’s true. I shouldn’t have let you talk me into this.”

Nico smiles, bemused and cupping your pouting face in his large palms. “This is supposed to be the fun part. Decorating and costumes, fun foods and drinks. I even let you pick our costumes.”

You perk up at that, a wicked smile teasing the corner of your lips and Nico’s heart drops a bit. Why are you looking at him like the cat that got the canary?

~~~~

“Are you serious?”

Somehow you two pulled it off. The whole house and yard for decorated, fake Jack o’lanterns lining the drive with blood red lights in them. The cut outs around the outside of the house and mood lighting that make the whole place look like it’s on fire.

Fog machines and red light bulbs, neon blood that glows in the lights splattered on the windows and doors. The back yard foggy and pulsing with strobe lights and even more red and orange flames.

The Devils Den.

That was what you two had decided on. You’d make the house look like it rose straight up from hell. Not terrifying, but spooky and really cool.

Nico loved it. He thought it was a good theme for your first Halloween party together with the devs. Everything was perfect. Well…everything but the costumes.

“That is supposed to be mine!” Nico whines, pointing a finger at the top of your head. You giggle gleefully, twirling the bedazzled end of your pointed tail in your hand.

“No, you said devil and angel. You never said you wanted to be the devil.”

“But-“ he can’t even argue. You got him there. He had suggested to go with the theme that you and him and be a devil and an angel. Then he left you to order them, pick accessories and all that.

But he never clarified who would be who. He assumed you’d know and do that. Now he understands why you were so entertained by the costumes. You stole his and you knew it’d be hilarious.

“I think it’s cute Nico,” you say, dropping your tail to lay behind you as you press into his chest. The lights flash, glinting off your bedazzled devils horns and dark red lips. Your eyes look him up and down, a pleased sparkle shimmering in your dark pupils. He’s in all white, the robe slowly and flowy looking, a large pair of feathered wings stretched across his back and a sword to sit at his hip.

It is a cool costume. But Nico’s not much of an angel. And you’re not much of a devil.

Still, he doesn’t say anything, just pouting as you take the makeup from his hands that he’d brought from upstairs. You had left them hidden in his costume and even though he doesn’t know how to put on makeup, or particularly want to, he lets you dust glitter on his cheekbones and make them all rosy with blush. Because for the first time since he brought up Halloween, you actually look excited about something.

You had fun with the costumes, and he’ll go along with it like you went along with this whole shebang. Even if Timo and Jonas bust out laughing at the sight of him. And Jesper and Nicole swipe at his shimmering cheekbones and coo about him being whipped. And yes somehow he’s still fine even after Jack and Luke catch sight of you in your all black ensemble, shirt tight and tutu short and fluffy, and holler about you being hotter than Nico.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dress up,” Mercer says in greeting, tilting his red solo cup to his lips. The hood of his Clifford the Big Red Dog costume falls over his eyes, and you push it back for him.

“She doesn’t like Halloween,” Marino teases, hiding his smirk by stroking over his fake handlebar mustache. Nico internally cringes, knowing it’s true but that you won’t admit it to anyone. You never want to seem like a party pooper, especially not when Halloween is big to the rest of them, but you admitted to Nico before your first Halloween together that you hated it.

It was too much work for one night, too much expectation. Costumes never turned out right, they were too expensive, and you don’t like being scared.

All in all, you usually skipped the holiday.

“Is that why you always show up to the bar on Halloween in just black clothes?”

You scoff at Luke, offended. “I wore a witch hat a couple of times!” Which is true, Nico laughs to himself, tuning out of the conversation in favor of looking at you. Your hair is smooth and shiny, blown out elegantly so that your horns are the center of attention. You’ve sharpened the appearance of your cheekbones and nose, lined your eyes with black and a tiny bit of red.

Red wings that match his to a T lie on your back, the red devil tail clipped to the band of that tiny skirt you’re wearing. Nico knows if he were to take a step back and look you up and down he’d be able to see far more of your ass than he’d like to be looking at in public. He makes a mental note to walk behind you as much as possible tonight, especially when he sees the way the band of the your thigh high socks stretch around your curves, the silk bows on them cute and taunting.

Nico feels his mouth water, butterflies fluttering around his stomach and chest. He thinks the boys may be teasing you, but he can’t really tell because he’s not listening. But he can see the pout on your lips, smiling when you look at him expectantly.

“Hello, guardian angel,” you motion around, “beat them up please?”

Nico laughs, slinks an arm around your waist and presses in close to you. “Let’s a get drink first,” he compromises, pressing a kiss to your head. “Then I will,” he agrees. He’ll agree to anything you ask of him tonight, and not just because he’s your guardian angel.

But because at the end of night, he’s the one you’re feeding syringe Jell-O shots too and he’s the one that’s gonna head upstairs later with your lipstick smeared all around his mouth, and yeah he’s the one that’s gonna hike up that innocent little skirt and make you feel good.

Buzzed and messy, you pull the shot from his mouth and slip into your own, heavy eyes not straying from his as you empty the second half of it into your mouth, sucking at the tip for good measure. You’re hanging off his shoulders, packed between bodies of Devs and their dates, and whoever else they invited. And you’re playing with the ends of his hair, looking at him with such dark and loving eyes that he realizes maybe you are a bit of a devil.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Written for @steddieangstyaugust day 4: angst with a happy ending.

Once upon a time, when the world almost ended and didn't, Eddie Munson used to think that surviving the near apocalypse would be the most difficult thing he'd ever have to do in his life. Surely being bitten to death, then resurrected by the big bad, then breaking away from his influence and helping save the world, that must have counted for something, right? He'd earn a happy end through all that suffering.

Well, no. Not really. That's what he learned the second the portal to the Upside Down closed. The lovely people of Hawkins still hated him, he and Wayne had nowhere to live because their trailer split open, and he barely escaped another group of government scientists very much interested in the whole "came back to life" thing.

It was only natural Eddie ran. Why wouldn't he? He brought Wayne only bad luck, even worse reputation, and a bunch of extra expenses. His friends from the Corroded Coffin? Tortured by Jason to find his location. The freshmen he dragged into Hellfire? Also targeted. Eddie's name was a target on the back on everyone he loved and he wouldn't stay long enough for it to put the others in danger. Not Wayne, Dustin…Steve. Steve who confused him as much as enticed him. But Hawkins wasn't the place to explore this forbidden space in Eddie's head.

Indy sounded like a good destination and so that's where he went. He wrote a bunch of goodbye letters, trying to explain, but mostly to ease the pain. I will be in touch once I settle in, he said in them. He was never a good liar, not even on paper.

The whole Upside Down affair had robbed him of everything. His baby, his guitar. His closest relationships. His only proper home. The future he saw with himself and the Corroded Coffin. But he still had his life, so that was something.

He made friends, but not really. How do you make a real connection with someone when you can't tell them anything about the most important event in your life? How do you explain staring at every girl with golden blond ponytail on the street, dreading the moment they turn around because it won't be her?

He would send letters to Wayne sometimes. They would be long, talking about this and that, he would sometimes call too. But he noticed that for how much he talked, the content was empty. He wondered if Wayne noticed too. He must have - his uncle was the most perceptive man he'd ever met. He sent a bunch of short messages to Dustin via Wayne, just to keep him from going all Sherlock Holmes on Eddie. He swore to visit them both one day. Just not today. Or tomorrow.

The only good thing about his life in Indy was the anonymity of a large city and with that, the possibility to explore who he really was. He saved as much as he could and bought a new guitar. It would never be like his first love, but he could get back to music and drive his roommates insane with how out of practice he was. He'd play here and there, become very slightly famous in the local queer community. Sometimes his performances would earn him a free drink, sometimes a kiss. Or if he was really good, company for the night.

Five years in, it was going fairly well, he thought. He wasn't completely broke, he could kiss who he wanted - boys, how long it took him to admit that!, his songs got more genuine. He even wrote a bunch about Hawkins, never naming the place or people, of course, but it helped him work through some stuff. And on some days, he didn't even think much about what and who he'd left behind.

Until that fateful evening when he was scheduled to perform in his frequented gay bar. He sat on his usual stool on the podium with his acoustic guitar, greeted the regulars, and said his usual spiel: "This one is about a very special boy. He wore a yellow sweater, saved my life a bunch of times. Was really badass too. I think he made me realize who I really am, even if he never knew how I feel about him."

He never gave the song a name. He considered "His vest over my bleeding heart", or maybe something like "Keep me like you kept the vest", something with sunflowers, nail bats, perfect hair. Everyone in the bar knew he hated naming his songs anyway, so he took a deep breath and got ready to play.

Only then did he notice a familiar shade of yellow near the bar. And a surprised, but still a smile.

Eddie didn't run that evening. He finished the set, thanked his supporters and fans, and then he found himself sitting next to Steve Harrington, the man from his songs and dreams.

"Everyone misses you like crazy. They still hope you'll stop by, but I get it. I just feel lucky as hell. I didn't think I'd see you again," said Steve and it sounded sad. Like he actually missed Eddie too.

"I didn't think I'd find you in a place like this," responded Eddie. He wanted it to sound more rough, defensive, but his heart betrayed him and it was more of a question. Of a plea.

Steve smiled at him again, and maybe it was Eddie's imagination, but did he shift closer to him? "You haven't seen me in a long time, Eddie. This is exactly the place you'd find me these days. And now…I don't even need to drag Robin with me as an excuse."

Oh. Okay. Eddie could work with that. Licking his lips, he prodded even more. "So…uh. I take it you still haven't found what you're looking for?"

Steve turned to him fully, reaching out for Eddie's hand, and Eddie realized that he might have been wrong. This might be his happy ending after all.

Especially when Steve's lips parted and he said: "I have now."

Eddie would visit Wayne. He'd call Dustin, catch up with Gareth and others. Because he no longer felt like a bad omen. The morning he woke up next to Steve Harrington, with a careful promise of much more than one night, with pancakes for breakfast and talking, so much real talking with no secrets and no lies, he decided that he was ready to stop running. For good this time.

[just-wrting]

Feeling Fangs Part 2

Title: Feeling Fangs Part 2

Pairing: Charlotte Katakuri x Wife!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: You and Katakuri explore your relationship more after you remember things from the past that you try not to think about.

Master List Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

A/N: Wrote a part 2! This ended up longer than I expected due to things I wanted to put in it, but that’s fine. My fics have been getting longer and that’s good! My bf and I have officially reached Wano, so expect Law content in the future cause he’s also just a pretty boy. Anyway, here’s part 2 to a boy who took like three episodes to get into my top three one piece men. This is written for a female reader, but men, please send an ask if you want me to make it masculine!

You don't have the dream often, but when you do, you can never wake up on your own. It's like she's still staring down at you, waiting to destroy you for defying her. Sure it all worked out, but it still terrifies you as much as it did then.

The dream starts after you arrive. Your shoes clack against the polished floors, announcing your every step to all who are listening. Your jacket flutters behind you as you walk, giving off the impression of a cloak not a jacket. You've made sure that you picked out a new outfit to try to impress her, but you aren't sure she's a woman to be impressed by looks.

"An audience with Big Mom? You must be insane," the man escorting you jeers. "What makes you think you can get what you want?"

You don't reply, setting your jaw in determination. It's been something you've always been able to do. You get your way from almost everyone when you're this determined, not just your father. Not only that, you're banking on a few things to make you convincing.

The door swings open to a chorus of singing, the musical behind the door not stopping for you. It's just one of those techniques to intimidate you, and you won't fall for it. Not even as you swallow your heart back down and clench your fists to stop the fear. It's ridiculous. This whole plan is ridiculous all because you're stubborn about who you get to marry.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" she asks, leaning down to look at you. "To what do I owe the pleasure of having the next bride coming to my territory early?"

You sweep into a deep bow, not raising your eyes. Everything rests on your performance.

"I had a request. I fear that the groom you have paired me with is a bad match."

You can feel the heat of her anger. "Are you saying that I'm a bad matchmaker? All of my children are happy with their marriages, why wouldn't yours be the same?"

You straighten and hesitantly look at her. "I would never say that. What I fear may have happened, is you believe my role in my father's business. I may be his daughter, but I have yet to be labeled the heir."

"So you are useless?"

You gulp. "If that's how you choose to view it. I am merely being honest with you about my father. I'm begging you for your help, Big Mom. With your help, I can be named the heir. As soon as that happens, you are free to do with my father as you wish and I will turn it over to you."

She leans back and rubs her chin. "What does this have to do with the marriage?"

You keep your hands folded behind your back. "I need to marry someone who can protect me against anyone and who would never respect my father. I'm unsure how he does it, but he has been able to get very powerful people to do things he wants."

Thunder booms through the room as she growls at you. "Are you saying my children are weak?"

You bite your lip. How is she taking everything you say the wrong way?

"I have heard about some of your children more than others." You take a deep breath, trying to steady your ever growing nerves. "Perhaps it's a bit difficult to understand my perspective. You are the strongest woman on the seas. You're able to get yourself out of any fight you get in. You are unstoppable. I am nobody. I have no abilities and no fighting knowledge. Everyday I have to fear for my life. It would be better for you if I had a strong husband to rely on instead of running to you when I'm in danger."

You hold your back as straight as you can, pushing down all your fear. You have no idea if she's listening to you or if you're signing your own death warrant with every word you say.

She calms down. "So what you're saying is that you're afraid of getting hurt so you'd like one of my strongest children to marry you in exchange for handing over your father's empire?"

"In the simplest of terms, yes that is my request. You are a gracious woman for even listening to my request."

Her laughter echos through the room. "Very well. I hope you're okay with finding out which of my sons you'll marry at the wedding."

You dip into another bow. "Of course, whatever you wish I shall be okay with now that my fears have been put to rest."

She waves you off. "Begone now, I seem to have another person to speak to."

You walk out of the room as calmly as you can. Internally, you're both relieved and panicked. Now you have made your future even more twisted and unclear. The mere thought of going home or coming back here makes you sick.

As soon as you can, you duck into the shadows and start to retch. There's nothing to vomit, you skipped breakfast, but spit trails down your lips to the floor. All of your nerves are finally getting to you and you can't hold it back anymore.

There's a faint clinking sound as someone walks towards you, but you don't turn around. Not only is it a bit mortifying to be seen like this, you just don't have the energy. Who ever it is pauses a short distance away, never saying anything. You know it's to look at you. You left the door open behind you.

Normally the dream continues with you finding food, but still throwing it up as the Big Mom pirates sneer at you. This time, you jolt awake to see Katakuri looking at you with worry.

Your breathing is heavy as you fumble around, trying to get away. There's a million thoughts racing in your mind, but the most prominent one being that you have to leave. You don't even stop trying to get out of the bed as he picks you up and sets you in his lap.

"It's just me," he whispers as he pulls your head to his chest. "You're awake, and you're safe."

You do your best to focus on the sound of his breathing, trying to match it. It's a bit tricky since he's got larger lungs, but the deeper breaths help you slowly calm down. You ignore the rest of your body as you, pretending that you aren't still trembling.

You can't remember the last time you woke up like this. Maybe it was when you first got married and you were terrified of being surrounded by strangers. Maybe it was when they killed your dad and you kept getting those letters saying that people would get their revenge. Maybe it was just a few weeks ago when you woke up in a cold sweat wondering if you would ever see Katakuri again.

By the time you've calmed down, you forget why it scares you so much. It's just a dream of a time that you could've died but didn't. It's just a dream. It will only ever stay a dream.

"What happened?" His voice is soft as he kisses the top of your head. "Tell me."

You draw in a shaky breath. "It's just a dream I have sometimes. Just remembering why we got married in the first place. Did anyone ever tell you why?"

Katakuri gently rubs his thumb against your skin. It's nice to just have him hold you like this for a little bit. Even if you woke him and you feel like a bother.

"Mother just said that you were someone she needed to keep in check and I was the best fit for that. That's all I know."

"I marched in here and asked that she gave me a different son to marry. Part of it was I thought your brother was..." you search for the right word. "Not my type. Part of it was that I was scared to get killed by your family so I wanted one of her strongest sons so that way I was safer."

"Does that mean I'm your type?"

You can feel his face start to heat up as he leans against you. It's not something you ever really thought about, so you rack your brain for the answer.

"I'd say so. I didn't pick you out, your mom did, but that doesn't mean you aren't my type." Your face starts to heat up. "You are the prettiest one and I would be lying if I said that I hadn't thought of marrying you when I first heard about it."

He stops moving. "Why me?"

"Because you're my type. I keep learning new things about you that just tick more of my boxes so it worked out alright."

You tilt your head back and give him a soft kiss. For a moment he stays still, but he's quick to grab your chin and keep you there. It's only been a few weeks, but you've gotten plenty used to just how affectionate he is when you're alone.

"Like what?" His eyes look into yours, unblinking and persistent. "What do you like about me?"

"Are you really going to make me list off everything I like about you?"

Even in the dark his eyes shine, and you find yourself mesmerized. He looks so pretty and you reach up to play with his hair.

"Just a few things."

You pretend to think really hard about it. "Well, let me think. I like that you're honorable."

Pressing a kiss to his jaw, you continue to list things. "You care deeply about people."

A kiss to his cheek. "You're incredibly sweet."

A kiss to his nose. "And you have to be the prettiest man I've ever seen."

With a smile, you press your lips to his. You mean every word you said, and you hope he knows that. It's official. You've definitely fallen for him, but you'll keep that to yourself for now.

Katakuri grips your waist and pulls you closer. He's soft and warm, and it's just so comforting to be held. It hadn't taken you long to get used to this, and now you find yourself enjoying it.

Before you can react, he pulls away and presses a kiss to your temple. "It's still early in the morning, get more sleep."

Scowling, you decide to sass back. "Who are you to tell me what to do?"

He gives you another kiss. "Your husband."

"Uh-huh. And how long have you been my husband?"

"Three years, seven months, and," you hear the sound of him picking up the clock and setting it down. "Twelve days."

"I'm surprised you remember that. I forgot all about it last year." You put your head back against his chest. "Though you're never around for it."

He starts to rub your back again. "In case it was important. What made you remember?"

"Someone left me a gift to celebrate it. I don't know who, though they've left me a gift every year."

You close your eyes, content to just relax. Katakuri is always warm and soft. There's very little that's more relaxing than just laying on him and going to sleep.

"What did you do with them? Did you throw them out?" He sounds worried.

You give a halfhearted shake of your head. "Nope, they're in the top drawer of my dresser. The only thing I've considered throwing out is some stuff that an old friend sent me. Why? Did you send them?"

There's a rumble in his chest before he wraps his arm around you and rolls over. "Don't ask questions, just sleep."

"Have you been trying to woo me this whole time, Katakuri?"

He holds you tighter. "If I promise to tell you who left those tomorrow, will you go to sleep?"

You laugh. "Sure, but only if you promise."

"Alright, I promise. Now go to sleep."

It's not a hard thing to do. You're warm and comfortable right where you are, and you feel sleep tugging you back. The thing that gets you the most is the feeling of being safe. Right now, as you are, you feel absolutely safe for what must be the first time in a long time.

—-

You throw the clothes on the bed and groan. Nothing you've managed to pull out has worked or fit, and you're starting to go insane. How did it not cross his mind to tell you that you needed to go with him to some stupid meeting? Now you're stuck rifling through your closet looking for something that Big Mom won't kill you for wearing.

"Why didn't you tell me last night?" you whine as you pull out another shirt. "None of this is going to work."

Katakuri watches you from the bed, wearing the same thing he always wears. He has it easy with a wardrobe filled with replicas of his biker outfit. Sure he looks great in it, but would it kill him to wear something else and suffer with the ability to choose? Maybe something that could actually cover that massive chest of his.

"Should I pick for you?"

You wave at him dismissively. "No. I need to prove that I know what to wear to something like this. Otherwise if she wants to see me when you aren't around, I'll be in trouble."

You can feel his eyes on you, but you ignore it. It's not until you slip on another dress, that you realize he's been in the room the whole time. It never bothered you before. In fact, the first time you changed in front of him you told him that it didn't matter if he saw you change because you're married.

Now that's changed. Sure, you're still married, you've just started to be more romantic and physical with each other. After three years, you've started to actually act like a couple. It's only been about a month, and the realization has just started to set in.

Even though you've done this a hundred times, you suddenly feel exposed and embarrassed. Has he always looked at you like this and you just never noticed? Maybe you should just go change in the bathroom instead.

"This also doesn't fit, I can't get the zipper up. I think I'll do this in the bathroom instead."

The bed squeaks as he swings his legs off. "I can help."

You feel your body heat up. "That's not necessary. How much time do I have left? Maybe I can go buy something."

"You look fine in everything you wear," he adds. "I don't believe it matters what you wear."

"I just," you pause to slip the dress off. "I just want to be perfect. Everyone views you as perfect so I need to match that."

You rub the silk between your fingers before chucking it to the floor. It doesn't matter what you wear. You'll never be more to them than Katakuri's little wife. Someone who's a thorn in their side and took him away.

"You're already perfect," he mumbles. "Just wear what you like."

You don't respond. Not only can you not hear him, you aren't sure if anything he could say would make you feel better. Maybe that's for the best. Dealing with his family isn't something he can really help with. It a challenge you need to deal with on your own.

You continue to absentmindedly pull clothes out and toss them around. All you're actually doing is making a mess. It'll all have to be sorted, hung, and put away once more, and you probably won't have the energy.

Eventually you pull out something you forgot you owned. The fabric is soft and soothing to the touch. You think back to when you bought it, shortly after you got married. Clearly you were thinking about Katakuri, the color matches his eyes.

You pull it out and hold it up to your chest. "What do you think of this?"

He nods. "It suits you."

You hum in thought. That's not much a reaction. To be fair, he hasn't given you much of a reaction this whole time. Part of you wants him to give you more than that, you wish you could see if he was flustered. Unfortunately, he's all ready, complete with his scarf tucked under his nose.

"That's it?" You raise an eyebrow. "I think I was thinking about you when I bought it since I'm pretty sure your eyes are this color."

You make your way over to the bed and hold it up to his head. Leaning in close, you stare into his eyes, looking back and forth between him and the clothes. The color is practically a perfect match. You don't know how you managed to pull that off, but you feel proud of that.

"It's the same color." You brush his hair away from his eyes. "Such a pretty color."

Katakuri reaches up and grabs your hip. It hurts a bit, but you don't mind. You know he can't tell how much force he can apply to your skin so it's never intentional. Normally you just remind him that you're not a sixteen foot tall piece of muscle and he needs to be more gentle. This time, you don't have the chance.

He takes the hanger from you and tosses it on the nightstand. You frown before he pulls you into his lap. Having no idea what game he's play, you push his chest and huff.

"What are you trying to do?"

You're flustered at the position, straddling his thigh in your underwear. It's impossible to tell how he feels right now due to his face being in shadow, but you hope he's more confident than you are.

"Is there something wrong?"

You grip the soft leather covering his chest and cover your mouth. Squirming to get out of his grasp isn't helping. In fact, it's making things worse. The way he's holding you makes it impossible to escape.

Closing your eyes, you try to get control of your thoughts. Every time you move, you end up grinding against him. You feel dirty for wanting to keep going. A large part of you wants him, even if it's in this way.

"N-no. I'm fine."

You stifle a moan as he pulls you closer. It's like he's encouraging you to give in, but you can't bring yourself to do that just yet. Not when you don't know if you can, and especially when you don't know if you'd be able to stop.

There's the sound of him using his devil fruit, and soon he's lifting your chin up. You open your eyes just enough to look into his. He's not looking into your eyes, tracing your body with his gaze instead. When he finally does meet your gaze, his pupils are wide and his eyes are dark. You've never seen him like that, but for some reason it gives you the answer you need.

Even though you're covering your mouth, you bite your lip to keep yourself from making noise. You can't bring yourself to break eye contact as you start grinding against him. His brow furrows slightly before he closes his eyes. You feel his chest rise and fall in deep breaths under your hand as he seems to struggle with something.

Katakuri keeps you steady, his fingers digging into your skin. Your eyes flutter shut, and you drop your head into his chest. At this point, the movement of your hips is like second nature. The dragging of your cunt against his thigh brings you  pleasure you haven't felt in months.

Focusing on your own pleasure, you start to move faster. You slide your knees to the side just a bit more to get even closer. Whining at extra friction, you feel your whole body flush. Each rock of your hips sends jolts of pleasure to your core.

You spread your fingers, panting to get more air. It's starting to make your thighs and hips ache, but you can't stop. You don't want to stop. You're chasing the high of an orgasm.

After a few minutes of rolling your hips down into him, you start to lose your pace. The tension in your core is building to its peak and you can't focus on anything but reaching it. You're desperate and clinging to him like it'll help.

As if sensing your desperation, Katakuri guides your hips back and forth. You struggle to muffle the sounds you make as you feel the tension snap. Your legs shake as your orgasm courses through you, and you grip his jacket as tight as you can.

Your hips don't stop moving until you're over sensitive and whining. It takes a moment for you to catch your breath, your chest heaving as you go limp. You barely register Katakuri lifting you off his thigh and laying you on the bed. His touch is light and gives you goosebumps.

There's the soft feeling of a damp towel on your face and thighs as he wipes you down as best as he can. You give a peek to look at him, finding him still in intense concentration.

"I'll let you rest for a moment. We won't be late."

You nod and close your eyes. Not only did you have a nightmare last night, but you got your exercise in already this morning. It's surprisingly exhausting, and you feel like taking a nap. You could probably get away with it too, since Katakuri dotes on you.

You curl into a ball on his side of the bed, making yourself comfortable. It's still warm from where he was, and you absentmindedly reach for the blanket. Of course, you can't reach it. Deciding that it doesn't matter, you give up.

After what feels like seconds, he's gently shaking you awake again. You stretch and groan before rolling over. Risking your life for a few more minutes is stupid, but what else are you going to do? Get up and go to the meeting?

"Get dressed. I can carry you, but you have to wear something."

You pout. "I don't even want to go. Why do I have to go?"

He presses a kiss to your forehead. "I don't know, but it isn't wise to keep Mother waiting."

—-

You look at your lap. Most of the topics are about fixing up the remains of the chateau, something you couldn't care less about. As long as you and your husband have a room big enough for him, you'll be fine.

"Now, time for the reason I called some of you here," Big Mom announces, banging a spoon on her teacup. "I hope that at least some of you can fulfill my request."

What little noises that were being made stopped almost as soon as she started speaking. You glance at Katakuri who doesn't seem fazed. Deciding to calm down, you take your tea in your hand and take a sip.

"This attack against me has made me realize that I'm not quite as young as I once was. Therefore," she gestures around the table, "as all my married children, it is your job to continue growing our family. The first to bring me a grandchild will be rewarded."

You choke on your tea, coughing into the cup. Did she really just request that you start having kids? You're well aware of how old all of her married kids are, but she can't be serious. She already has a grandchild, not that she'll ever call the kid that.

"Is something wrong with my request?”

You shake your head aggressively. "Absolutely not. I thought for just a moment there was a bug in my tea, but it appears I'm just suffering from a lack of sleep. I'm sorry for the disruption."

You don't even pay attention the rest of her talk. Who knows what she's going on about with her age, some of her kids aren't even double digits? Maybe this is just some plan to get you killed in the dumbest way possible. How are you supposed to have kids with Katakuri of all guys? He's sixteen feet tall.

That's not to say you haven't thought about having kids with him. Even if it's been in a more 'how would this work' way and less of a 'I really want kids' way. You’ve only started to be comfortable with him in the romantic sense in the past month or two so you haven’t had the chance to even discuss such a topic. Though you don’t think you’d mind trying.

You shake your head slightly, attempting to get rid of the thoughts. This sort of situation is not the time to be thinking like that. Even if he keeps looking over at you to make sure you’re okay.

Thankfully the meeting ends after a few more minutes, and you head outside. The stress of being around so many of the Big Mom pirates is giving you jitters and you want to just curl up into a ball and scream. Normally they leave you alone, even if giving you dirty looks, but this time you were forced to partake in a dumb meeting about having kids.

Just as she had asked, Katakuri stays behind for a few more minutes. You watch the door anxiously, biting your nails as you wait. It’s a bad habit, but you can’t break it due to moments like these. Moments where you aren’t sure what’s going to happen to you or your husband. Moments where your whole life could be upturned. Thankfully, he comes out looking fine, if mildly annoyed.

He picks you up and sets you on his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“What did she want to talk to you about?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead he just keeps walking down the stairs, making sure to not jostle you too much. Whatever it was must’ve been somewhat bad if he’s not willing to talk about it yet. Maybe he just doesn’t want to bother you with whatever it was.

You take in the construction as you walk, surprised by just how fast the work has been. The whole chateau is almost complete, only missing finishing details and furniture. It’s pretty impressive, and you wonder how everyone managed to get it done. Katakuri and you even have your original room back already, though you aren’t sure where they managed to find all of your belongings. Not that it matters, you have other things to worry about.

Once he sets you down and locks the door, Katakuri sighs. He looks slightly aggravated, and you aren’t entirely sure why. It’s clearly related to whatever his mom wants him to do, but whatever it is can’t be that bad. Not that you have any idea of what she normally asks of him.

“There’s something I need to go do,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

“It’s okay. I was really worried she had scolded and threatened you, so I’m glad you’re just leaving for a little bit.”

You press your hand to your chest in relief. There are far worse things that could’ve been said than having him go do something. At least he’s still safe and still yours.

“I’ll do my best to be quick.” He bends down to look in your eyes. “I promise.”

“I don’t care how long you take, as long as you come back safe.” You press a kiss to his lips. “Promise me you’ll come back safe and sound.”

Katakuri returns your kiss. “I promise to come back to you.”

With that, he leaves. Even though he just left, you find yourself missing him. You push down the idea of running after him and begging him to stay or take you with him. There’s no need to bother him. He’s already promised to come back and that’s more than you could ask for.

[disdaidal]

how do you sharpen your gifs???? they're insanely high quality!

Hello, Anon dearest, and thank you so much! ✨ To answer your question properly, I would first have to know which gifset(s) of mine you're referring to because I've made a lot over the years and I often change my sharpening settings, too. It totally depends on what I'm working with at the moment, to be honest. 😅

But, as for the last few sets of mine (this, this, and this in particular), I used these settings:

After converting my frames/layers into a smart object, I applied the settings above. Remember to click on the gear icon in the upper right corner and check both 'Use Legacy' and 'More Accurate' as well. This will make your sharpening look more 'natural' and less cakey imo.

Below is a comparison of before and after:

Note: This Geralt screenshot was taken from a 4K (2160p) video. Most videos I work with are at least 1080p or 720p because quality matters.

And here's the final result: colored, brightened, and sharpened.

—

I hope this answers your question. If not, feel free to send me more questions about this kind of stuff. I'm always happy to help out :)

[hazelnutsforellie]

Omfg scissoring w Ellie during a snow storm. Or something where she’s cooped up and being kinda mean and reader is being super bratty.

nsfw content — scissoring with ellie during a snow storm

WARNINGS— NSFW, smut [18+], established relationship, spanking, praise, degrading/mocking, pet names, scissoring, pussy slapping, overstim, kinda proofread.

WC— 1k

AUTHOR'S NOTE— this is more of a drabble but i still hope you like it!! i kinda mixed another request with this one since i was able to work them in together hehe. ty all for all the love so far pls feel free to leave feedback/reblog, it's v encouraging ♡

The idea of being cooped up with your girlfriend didn't bother you, but what did bother you was the fact that she wasn't paying attention to you. Your eyes were glued to the falling snow outside of Ellie's window, the blizzard giving little to no visibility. The sound of you repeatedly tapping your thigh did nothing other than disrupt Ellie's focus.

Ellie wasn't particularly happy with the fact that you were extremely impatient, and bratty while you were snowed in. With nothing to do, Ellie had spent a lot of her time drawing and listening to music while you kept busy with your own hobbies. Luckily, Ellie listened to her music with one earbud out so she could hear you in case you spoke to her.

You'd suggested making hot chocolate, to which Ellie replied, "If you want."

You were frustrated— beyond frustrated. You wanted Ellie's attention, and most of all, you were incredibly turned on. Seeing the way she would flick over the paper as she drew, the way her arms and fingers would flex. It drove you insane.

Your mouth ran before your gears and you snapped, "Do you or not?"

Ellie turned her head to look at you from her desk, to where you were sitting on your side in the middle of her bed. The skin between her brows was knitted together as she looked at you, surprised yet taken aback by your attitude. Her eyes turned dark, seeing you in the middle of her bed, practically begging for her to at least look at you.

That's how you ended up on top of Ellie, your cunt grinding against hers as she laid with her head against her pillows. Your eyes were glued to her face, her light pink dusted cheeks in contrast to her bronze freckles.

Tiny droplets of sweat littered Ellie's forehead as she lied underneath you, still taking control of you despite her position. Her eyes darkened as she watched your slick that continuously dribbled down your thighs, coating her as she grinded her hips up into you.

Scattered moans and grunts fell from her lips as her grip tightened on your right thigh, which was laid across her lower stomach. You could feel her slender hand tightening, forcing you to grind on her with more pressure.

The sounds of your cunt sloppily kneading hers echoed throughout her bedroom, along with the pathetic whimpers that spilled from your mouth. You suddenly felt the connection of Ellie's palm connecting with your ass, a short yelp escaping your lips. Shortly after the strike, her hand returned to the mark to soothe it with a tender grip. You let out a moan against her lips as you continued to striddle her, one knee facing the end of the bed while the other faced Ellie.

"Fuck, I love when you give me those eyes," Ellie purred as she looked up at you, seeing your hooded eyes as you grinded your pussy against hers, the friction against your clit sending your stomach in somersaults. Ellie was purposely holding you so you couldn't fasten your pace, a chuckle erupting from her throat every time you let out a whimper.

"Move your hips, baby," she ordered, her eyes never leaving your face as you began to grind without Ellie's help. Her hand swiftly made contact with your ass again, earning another pleasured yelp in surprise. "C'mon, pretty girl. You forget how to move?"

You scoffed down at her, applying pressure and tempo. Ellie's chest began to heave the faster you rolled your hips, encouraging you to continue the rough pace.

"Fuck," Ellie groaned, tightly grasping your ass in one hand while she held your thigh in the other. She released her grip before slapping your ass once again, and as the strikes began to burn from landing in the same spot, your filthy moans progressed. "Yeah? You like that?"

You nodded, nibbling your bottom lip as you continued to grind yourself against her, your wetness mixing together in a sloppy mess. You had no doubt you had marks on your ass that were bound to be sore in time. You loved it, though, and Ellie knew it. She could see it in your face from the way it would contort in pleasure, which only fueled Ellie's fire.

"God damn, you're filthy," Ellie mustered in between breaths, her palm continuing to strike your ass and soothe it for a short period after each one. The way you would jolt while your eyelashes fluttered after each land drove her mad.

You suddenly whined, the searing pleasure growing to be too much. You grabbed Ellie's wrists, successfully planting them against the bed on her sides. She was too taken aback to respond in time, and although she could easily overpower you. Instead, she watched you, her eyes boring into your face as you held her down.

"I'll let the brat get what she wants," Ellie purred, a small smile threatening to tug on the corners of her lips as your grip on her wrists tightened. Your pace was growing quick, heavy breaths falling from both your lips as you fastened your pace, feeling your peak quickly creeping up on you.

Ellie watched as your orgasm crashed into you, watching as your eyes quickly rolled to the back of your head, your back arching in the process. The sight alone sent Ellie toward her own release, both of you gasping and moaning as you slowly rocked your hips together. Your legs were trembling, your grip on Ellie's wrists releasing enough for Ellie to then grab your wrists, flipping you around to your back.

You were too fucked out to look down and watch Ellie position herself between your legs, only realizing when you heard a low hum before feeling a sharp smack on your sensitive cunt. You let out a yelp, your legs instinctively flying together, though Ellie expected it, raising her hand to quickly push them apart.

Sure, Ellie was known to be self-indulgent, but one thing she just couldn't allow was your attitude.

"P-please, Ellie. I can't," you whimpered, your thighs trembling as Ellie's thumb began to tease your sensitive bundle of nerves. Another whine escaped your lips, your fingers tightening on the comforter beneath you. All Ellie responded with was a tsk before landing another harsh slap on your cunt, a pleasured yelp erupting from your throat. With so much time to spare, Ellie only had one thing in mind.

You should've known better.

[urhoneycombwitch]

Read about husky!eddie last night, dreamed about him, still thinking about him, NEED HIM TO DICK ME DOWN SO BAD 😩

ahem. I’m just going to rattle off some scenarios. Continuing off of hot af husky older neighbor Eddie: He starts offering to come over and “fix things” all the time. Maybe he’s under our sink and checking the pipes. Maaaaybe he convinces us to sit on his face. We’re facing away from him so we pull his dick out and jerk him off while grinding on his tongue 🥵

He noticed our car making a weird sound.. brings his tools over but before you know it we are riding him in the back seat because we can’t resist bouncing on his thick thighs 😵‍💫

Eddie can’t quite believe how obsessed we are with his body.. how we just can’t wait to get his shirt off and kiss and nibble his pecs, down to the soft pudge of his tummy, down to his thick cock (which we worship) and he’s more than happy to just rail us every night like we deserve.

Thank you for listening. I’m gonna go to eject myself into the sun

if you're throwing yourself into the sun can I come join u HOLY FUCK

+18 mdni

he's a handyman for sure, works for an emergency lockpick company but his knowledge is vast. jack of all trades but really good with weird appliance noises and strange car sounds. good with his hands.

I think it becomes a joke, between the two of you- maybe it starts out earnest, your garbage disposal really was acting up- but every time you ask Eddie to fix something ya'll just end up having insane sex.

he likes being asked just as much as you like asking. you sidle up to him while he's working on his own car out in the apartment's parking lot, hands covered in grease, failing to hide his grin as you cross the asphalt.

you explain what's been leaking out of your AC, really playing up the dramatics even tho you know Eddie's not a hard sell, kind of losing the plot a bit as you zone out on his hands- winding a clean rag at the grime around his rings (which he keeps on while working despite the obvious safety code).

"your AC, huh?" smug son of a bitch. with pretty curls peeking out the back of his black handkerchief, chain glinting off the heft of his pecs through that obscene goddamn muscle tee.

"yes, Eddie. my AC. 🙄"

he hmms and haws for a bit, really enjoying making you squirm 'cuz he knows you won't outright ask for a hookup so this is just one way to get payback.

"got a pretty busy schedule today, doll," he tsks, stretching out a boot to lean into his knee, widening his stance, "but I'll see what I can do. maybe this afternoon."

you know it won't even be 11am before he's tongue-deep inside your pussy, your knees on the kitchen tiles, hand wrapped around his thick cock, brushing against his stomach with each upstroke, tools scattered around your kitchen haphazardly in the vague shape of a pretense.

would love to write more for husky!neighbor!Eddie feel free to send reqs or any prompts!!