#from others these days + not wanting to bother people and/or wants to give 'em personal space. Unless he gets overtaken by certain

[nikoniclove]

Whole List of "Ace in the Hole" Prompts Pt 2

For anyone who is interested in reading the WHOLE MASSIVE list of prompts people have sent in via private messages, AO3, or tumblr, here it is broken into numerous posts because it's so long.

One Shots (con)

i want more little things that make them tick! doesn't have to be a super kinky thing, something small. maybe they notice jj gets all hot and bothered whenever ace handles the sniper guns. or emily likes it when ace's hair is in a bun. something small like that and the teasing conversation they have once they figure out why the other person is so horny lately. (Mcdoesit)

LOVED the jewelry kink for jj, would love to see that revisited. (Mcdoesit)

i would pay so much money to have them somehow make a stupid bet about "well yeah i bet i could last longer than you could" regarding sex/orgasms. knowing them it would probably be jj vs emily or ace vs jj, but it could be all three of them. they would try to tempt each other but it would probably backfire and make them super horny. maybe ace playing the mommy/daddy card or jj/emily trying to leverage her praise kink or subspace? i just know they'd play dirty. (Mcdoesit)

would love to see ace teasing Em and JJ somewhere they can’t fuck her (maybe on a car or something) by calling them mommy/daddy when people can’t hear? Feel it would drive them wild haha. (Tumblr anon)

Ace being in a depression (Emily and JJ not having caught onto it yet) and trying to have sex with Emily to help her ‘feel’ better. However Emily decides she not in the mood or just too tried from a case and how it affects Aces depression. Specifically with feeling not good enough for them, or maybe Ace thinks they’re no longer attracted to her. (Jo_Mamaz)

Episode 11x14 - ace reaction, JJ reaction 

the first time Ace sees Emily go super rough and intense on JJ (quite early on in their relationship so it feels shocking to her), both the live event and then the aftermath of how she processes her trepidation and arousal around that kind of roughness/intensity in bed as it’s all still quite new to her (Tumblr chaotic-pyro)

Ace being on the giving end and JJ or Emily on the receiving end as top Ace is sort of a rare occurrence. They do happen to be on call but they’re trying to reacquaint with each other’s bodies since it’s been so long with all the cases. A phone starts to ring (it could be work, family, etc.) but Ace encourages one of them to answer, yet whoever answered isn’t the person the caller is looking for - whoever is receiving is the wanted one - and they try to push Ace away but she’s insistent on the other person just continuing conversation as normal.  (Tumblr anon)

JJ or Emily in some sort of life or death predicament where either JJ or Emily rashly put their life on the line to save the other leaving Ace in a state where both of her loves are at risk where she can’t do anything but wait on the sidelines and not knowing how to cope with the fear of potentially losing them both? (Tumblr anon)

considering all the gun kink stories out there, would you possibly write something along those lines with the three? thinking about it being jj or emily’s unexpected turn on (Tumblr anon)

One where they argue for the first time, jj and Emily learn that they can’t shout at ace because she isolates due to her past (Tumblr anon)

maybe a follow-up to "A Bad Day" in Different Kinds of Firsts pt.2. Where Ace is having another bad day and JJ and Emily are almost tripping over themselves to help her feel better to make up for last time. And their effort itself is so endearing and loving that it helps lift her spirits as well. Maybe JJ actually brings up that they want to do better because of how much Ace has adapted for them - possibly bringing back a conversation from "Learning to Top" about Ace swallowing down certain things so that she gets to stay with JJ and Emily (Tumblr theysaythejobisjinxed)

silly story in which emily tries to fix the kitchen sink or something but the problem she doesn’t know how to fix it so she ropes ace into it but she doesn’t know how to fix it either so they end up making it waaaay worse and the kitchen floods and everything and they’re like “jj is gonna kill us” and in fact when jj comes home she’s mad but amused nd she ends up fixing it ? and it’s just all funny fluffy goodness?? (Tumblr anon)

Ace has a fight with Emily and JJ (thinking serious but not as bad as Emily telling Ace she is a burden) before going away for work alone, maybe solo consult or testifying or something, and there is bad weather and Ace looses communication with the team. Emily and JJ are freaking out cause they are worried about Ace and can only remember that the last thing they said to her was mean and what if they don't see her again, and such. Ace is worried and trying to figure out how to fix it but the lack of contact with anyone (other than the reason she is where she is) is getting to her and it makes her miss her peoples even more (EmilyJenniferJareauPrentiss)

Ace takes JJ to a rock gym, sweaty muscles are observed, JJ’s libido is in overdrive, and then when they get home, JJ gets to enjoy the muscles up close (Nerdy_Mama)

JJ dominating ace and emily chapter.. it's been too longggg. Not just dominating in bed but also teasing them and edging both of them the whole day and then finally showing them who is boss.. something like this pleaseee (Ao3 guest JJEM)\

Where JJ is very upset with ace over something very stupid like ace ate her last piece of favourite pie of something (not really upset like getting mad but upset enough to ignore her for a bit ) and ace is going out of her way to make it up to her... going full girlfriend and sending her flowers and giving massages and stuff. And emily is empathetic towards ace but not really helping and staying out of it (Ao3 guest JJEM)

What if Emily and JJ teased and worked Ace up as they are wont to do, and when they are finally ready to let Ace come, maybe even have her tied up and begging already. Bam, either they or Ace get called away. Maybe there's a failed attempt to get Ace of over a video chat while they are away, but that too fails. And when they are all finally reunited, or maybe just Ace and Emily. Ace pins Emily down and makes her get her off because she is just too desperately horny to be shy anymore. (Attempt_137_at_finding_a_user_name)

Emily and Ace off on a consult that turns into them helping on the case. Early on in an established relationship. A local detective (who is similar to Emily in dominance and looks) is flirty with Ace. Maybe Ace has to go undercover with this detective for a small thing and play the role of a date. She plays into the part and keeps calling Ace ‘love’. Emily can do nothing but just boil in silence. Ace teases Emily a little but quickly sees the mask drop and there is lingering insecurity. Very smutty hotel moment. (Ssskeptical)

early days are good to see. Speaking of…have you done much - or anything - with the firsts before that first girls night where they actually did stuff for the first time? Because I think you said they’d been flirting with Ace for months at that point and Ace was kind of clueless in an adorable way. It could be fun to see some of the firsts even before that first girls night. Maybe the first time JJ flirted, the first time Emily flirted, the first time Ace realized they were flirting - if she even realized it? Maybe the first time JJ touched Ace in a casual, friendly way BEFORE they were anything to each other and Ace being all weird about it because she’s not used to that. Maybe the first time they got jealous of Ace before they had any reason or right to…like they’re nothing to each other but they have a thing for her and she innocently talks about finding someone cute at a bar or gets flirted with during a team outing, JJ gets all jealous, Ace has no idea what’s going on. (Ao3 Guest)

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

astro thoughts - short n sweet <3 pluto in the house

Pluto in the 1st house - Very strong auras. Could deliberately see through bs a mile away. Not gifted in being friendly, lol just kidding. Their not 'nice' though. And they don't have to be. They don't like faking the funk so this pretty much gives them an interesting outlook on people and they way they see themselves. Can shift the whole room with just their magic. Can be very intimidating to some, but very inspiring to others.

Pluto in the 2nd house - Could have financial issues from time to time. Not likely to say the same thing twice, if they said it once they meant it. Dont bother them again about it. These individuals can use their psychic senses to make money if that is what they wish, they could be very therapeutic to say the least. Give em a chance, they really wouldn't hurt a fly.

Pluto in the 3rd house - There speech is very compelling. They could hold a room with just their words and it could open the minds of a few listening to them. They have a gift in impacting you with just the way that they think, making you beg for more each day at a time.

Pluto in the 4th house - Could of had a transformative experience at home and I don't mean that nicely. There are somethings that should be left unsaid but sometimes things need a reawakening. They don't seem to let things go here.. but why would they? There past is like a haunting story awaiting to be unraveled just so you can piece together the puzzles that we're left unfinished. They are quiet when it comes to their personal life and hide themselves from the world so that you won't get an inkling of what truly is masked behind the bushes.

Pluto in the 5th house - Very deep bonds with their art work and can do a performance like no other. They will have you feeling every bit of emotion in their vibration just to help you feel what the character is feeling. I noticed there are a lot of good actors with this placement. Anywho, they have a powerful presence and when it comes to dating them or even just experiencing them for a little while it can be a transformative, healing experience for people involved with them.

Pluto in the 6th house - Like their martians mates in the 6th house, these people can have a pretty interesting experience here. They have a tendency to be obsessive over what they want so they work as much as they can until the wheels falls off. This could become a problem if they don't think to chill out on working and sacrificing their well being for something out side of themself.

Pluto in the 7th house - Deep, penetrating raw auras. Could be self-reflective on the way they see things, themselves , others and just the world at large. They have a gift of discernment but most of them never use the gift and can get caught up into the wrong things sometimes. There is more than what meets the eye with these individuals. They never let others in so easily, sometimes they're worth the wait. ;)

Pluto in the 8th house - Really good at seeing through things that others just can't seem to pick up on. Really gifted in occult sciences. Have issues with commitment and could have trouble with individuals because of traumatic experiences in past lives or current one. Could have people who want to be around them just to unravel them, but not really want to be with them. Have a very mysterious presence, hard to read.

Pluto in the 9th house - Very interesting and their thoughts can penetrate the mind in so many ways. They will leave you speechless when its all over. They travel to different places all the time but they are pretty good at finding places that match their flow, and love ot bring anyone along for the ride. There just a different layer to them that no one really knows how to explain, but its a gift that keeps giving.

Pluto in the 10th house - Woah. Thats the word to describe em. Its their touch and raw auras that keep you on your knees. VERY strong personas and do not like being talked down on. Could use their experiences/circumstances to their advantage. Gifted and seeing beyond what no one wants to believe is true. They can have the world if they know they got it in them already. Hard headed but gets to the bag with just their two feet. No one else can beat them at their own game.

Pluto in the 11th house - Whew. These people have a spell on the people that no other pluto house placement can compete with. The issue is these people don't know how to use that power but thats not all that bad. They can have people do things for them because something about them just makes people want to do things for them.

Pluto in the 12th house - very odd things comes out of the mind with these individuals. The subconscious/dream world is the most important part of their day to day because it rules the present in a way that cant be controlled but must be felt. How are you doing living a life that no one seems to live? It seems like they are all alone, but the world is calling for them to give them all the answers.

Talk to me in the comments, let me know how yall feelin! <3

[jnece-maharlika]

Danny accidentally becomes the Ghost king, The president and the BIGGEST threat to Bruce's social status.

Pt 1 Danny becomes the Ghost king

"Fenton's were never allowed to have a "normal" life, we are either extremely successful or extremely unsuccessful, there is no in between. Maybe a spirit cursed us back in the days, but who knows, but one things for sure, all Fenton's will definitely make the news."

-Grandma Fenton from whatever generation

Danny's starting to believe that now. He used to think that it wasn't true, but now? He used to wish to have a normal life, be a good normal son with good grades an be an astronaut one day.

But like they said, a Fenton is either EXTREMELY SUCCESSFUL OR EXTREMELY UNSUCCESSFUL.

He was EXTREMELY UNSUCCESSFUL in that.

Instead of a normal life he turned a half ghost teen superhero. But oh well, the Fenton's were also known for their ability to go with the flow

But how in the world did the flow get him here???

In Danny's defense, he wasn't really expecting this. The only thing in his mind at the moment was keeping his town and his people safe from pariah. He just wanted to get rid of the rotten fruitloop. He was EXTREMELY SUCCESSFUL, so successful in fact that he ended up becoming Ghost king.

The fudge????

But okay, sure, he didn't wanna become king but if he also didn't want to give up the crown for others to take, what if an evil person becomes king and attacks amity again?? Fine, he'll be king, he'll figure it out. Just go with the flow.

Surprisingly, not only did he get the crown, he also got THE MONEY. as in literal gold and silver bars, coins and jewelry. Appearantly, one the kings a long long time ago, before at least two generations before pariah had an obsession with MONEY. So the king made a Permanent Royal Degree (a law that cannot be changed by any future kings) that when someone dies and becomes a ghost, 20% of the MONEY that they've acquired in their entire life. (The money turns into an equivalent of ghost currency in the realms but is still physically in the living. Kind of like how the soul is in the realms but the body is the earth. Also, the only reason money exists in the realms is for convenience and a sense of normalcy, it doesn't really have that much value unless the ghosts brings it to the living) would belong to the ghost king.

Basically, it's ghost taxes that only have to be paid once for the entire afterlife. (Or is it more of an entrance fee???)

But anyways, hes got the MONEY.

He's rich now and he thinks, "I have so much money it's disgusting"

So first things first, getting rid of some of it.

By this point, his parents know he's phantom and have changed their opinions on ghosts, instead of attacking they are now looking at ghost like they're equals and try and help them as an apology for hurting them.

They are also looking for a new project to spend time on. A new purpose

So Danny thought, why not give them the money then? Danny proposed to his mom a project to make things that can benefit both ghosts and humans.

Next thing he knows is that he's appearantly funding, building and making:

A ghost job agency

A human job agency

Ghost proof buildings (ghost can't pass through walls, it won't hurt them, just keep em out.)

Ghost proof clothes (overshadowing proof!)

A practical fashion line for ghost and humans (Bullet proof, blast proof etch. Borderline vigilante clothes that look like a civilians day to day outfit)

Homes for ghost and humans

A ghost obsession help center where they can ask humans to help with their obsession.

A school for both ghost and humans.

Liminal 101 because apparently because of the whole, pariah dark and, living in the ghosts kings haunt situation, everyone is liminal now

An entire line of technology that can be used by both ghosts and humans.

A fight arena where ghost and humans can fight for fun.

And so many other things , he can't remember

HIS NAME IS EVERYWHERE . His parents didn't even bother hiding the fact that their son somehow has enough money to fund these projects, everyone knows him now.

He ends up basically owning most of amity park.

And here he thought he wouldn't be the kind of king that expands their territory.

He was extremely UNSUCCESSFUL in that.

[martinluvrr]

MISS 20 SOMETHING | EMILY ENGSTLER

⋅˚₊‧ emily engslter x gf!reader

⋅˚₊‧ sypnosis: comments are always expected when you're a 20 year old girlfriend of 25 year old WNBA player, but at the annual team dinner, y/n finally breaks.

⋅˚₊‧ warnings: 5 year age gap. underage drinking.

⋅˚₊‧ nav ||

You were fresh 19 when you met your now girlfriend, Emily. There wasn't necessarily a cute story on how you two dated, you just clicked. Met at a local new york bar, which you weren’t supposed to be in but you somehow got into. And to be frank, you did tell Em your real age.

You being a child star, had its perks. Fame (which you didn’t see as a perk) , no money problems,connections and more. But also it had its disadvantages, for one, people always think your young. Which you were, but being with a 24 year old, made it worse.

The 5 year age gap wasn’t that bad, but it was enough of a gap for critics or haters to talk about or give their opinion to. Neither you or Emily cared, it seemed like it was you two against the world.

When you first met Emilys friends, it was 4 months into your relationship. The meet up was fine, all had fun but they’re also comments, jokes, which you laughed off even though some of them bothered you.

If you did tell Emily how you felt, it would make you seem like a child, immature. So you guessed its better to put up with it hoping they would stop at some point.

☆

they didn’t.

This girl just didn’t stop, she was brutal with it too. She was a teammates plaything of the month, you would assume, as you watched the player get annoyed by her.

You sighed after you laughed off another one of her comments, as you turned to your right, you were met with Ems brown eyes, immediately tension eased off your shoulders as she smiled at you. “You okay?” she asked with her eyes.

“Yes” you responded with yours.

Just put up with it, you told yourself, it’s worth it for her.

As you got into a conversation with another spouse, you could feel the bitches eyes on the other side of your face. You didn’t know what her problem is or what you had done to her. but it seemed like she wanted a reaction out of you.

“Emily i seriously don’t know how you do it” She said 10 minutes ago, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Do what?” Em responded confused.

“Babysit every day” She laughed. Only 3 other people laughed, Emily forced out a chuckle and you a smile which didn’t reach your eyes. The whole table didn’t say anything, just watched the scene awkwardly, before you finally broke the silence and opened another conversation.

You thought she was done with that one. but nope.

When the waiter came back to get refill orders a couple minutes after, you had ordered a glass of wine, and as soon as the waiter was out of the room.

“Are you even old enough to drink wine, Miss 20 something?” she asked laughing. Her partner side eyed her, and you heard the conversation stop at the end of the table.

But you just laughed, and continued your conversation with Em. And yes, you were old enough, in a European country yes. And you were literally two weeks away from turning 21 so it didn’t matter.

But after that, you could tell that she wasn’t actually joking, she just wanted something out of you. Even when you first came in, she only shook Ems hand and ignored yours but you just shook it off.

Normally you were used to the comments, they were jokes and sometimes they bothered you but you knew people actually liked you and weren’t disrespecting you. but she was.

you finally had enough when Emily was telling a story.

“… and i was 18 at the time-”

“18? that means y/n was 13 right? woah” she cut off Em. Just as the vibe was good, the whole table filled with tension. You heard Em sigh, and could tell she was sick of it too.

You finally enough.

“Are you done?” You asked her. Her face turned to you surprised but satisfied.

“What do you mean?”

“I asked if you’re done throwing jabs at me”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” she said innocently sipping her drink.

“Don’t even-” you scoffed. “You say im a child but you’re the only one here trying to bring drama in my face, and frankly i have had enough”

“What the f-”

“No don’t talk you’ve said enough and embarrassed yourself already” You cut her off. "You think it bothers me what you think, no it doesn't. Because the whole table knows the only child here is you. If you actually thinks it's mature of you to hate on me, Miss 20 something when you're a Miss almost 40 something then that just shows what a child actually is"

You heard gasps and a oop, but you also felt Em put her hand on your thigh. Which meant approval.

"How dare you? I'm 30"

"Well you should start trying botox hun" And with that you ended the conversation and encouraged Em to finish her story. the whole vibe was back to normal.

And at the end of the night when you both returned to your shared appartment, you kicked your heels off and felt brown eyes staring at the back of your head. You turned and saw the same question resting in Ems eyes as earlier, and this time you responded your voice. "I'm fine"

"That’s good baby" She responded and starting walking towards you, you felt her instinct to pick you up and immediately opened your legs wrapping them around her waist, her tattooed hands went lower and to your ass cheeks as she kissed you. Taking you to bed.

☆

➣ miss 21 something ( kinda part 2?)

[mattsnight]

Help - Matt Sturniolo

Summary: in which Matt helps y/n release her stress

Warnings: unprotected sex (always do it safe!!), oral (female!receiving), stress, anxiety, cursing, use of y/n.

A/N: ANOTHER KINKTOBER FIC! also make sure you check out my other kinktober fics

Not proofread

You’ve been working all day and you were so tired. You just wanted to get away from your laptop and watch a movie with your boyfriend. But that simply wasn’t possible, because you had to finish this presentation by tomorrow. It was making you sick. The uneasy feeling of having to do a full presentation for 10 people. I mean, you’ve done it before, but this one was so much more important.

Matt on the other hand, didn’t really do much today. He was cleaning up a bit and just hung out with his brothers to give you some space alone. The only thing that bothered him all day was your health. He cared for you so deeply and hated seeing you all stressed over work. He hated that he couldn’t do anything about it.

You get another phone call. An irritated groan leaves your mouth before you answer it. It’s your colleague Anna. She asks you if you can do her a favor and before you can say anything she interrupts. This is what you hated the most about having to deal with others at work. “I need to do this report, but im on vacation so you can take over, right?” Anna asks. She always tries to put her work onto your big pile of stuff. You couldn’t take it all and she seemed to forget about that.

Matt gently opens the door, noticing your stressful state and decides to help you. He makes his way over to you. Your head shoots up at him. You point to your phone to let him know you’re on a call, but he doesn’t seem to care. He drops down to his knees in front of you, caressing your thighs with his fingers before replacing it with kisses. A soft gasp leaves your mouth. You quickly put your hand over your mouth to hide the noises.

Matt pulls your shorts down. Soon enough after that he pulls your panties to the side. His long middle finger moves against your already wet folds, you can’t help but bite your lip. Anna keeps talking but at this point you cannot focus on her.

“So yeah, you’ll do it right?” She asks.

“A-Anna im too busy.. s-sorry…” you replied as your mouth falls open in satisfaction of Matt’s finger against your sensitive bud. Anna is most likely confused about your reply. You cut her off by hanging up, throwing your phone to the side before looking down at Matt. His fingers are now teasing your hole and his mouth is blowing smoke against your clit. A whimper escapes your lips as you pull him closer by gripping his hair. He gives in. His tongue now swirling against your clit while his fingers are pushed deep inside of you. You can’t help but moan at the pleasure you’re getting from this.

Matt doesn’t keep you on edge for long, his movements speeding up as he feels you clench around him. “Fuck Matt! Im gonna cum.” You cry out as your back arches itself. A loud gasp leaves your mouth as a wave of pleasure washes over you.

“Jus’ came all over m’fuckin’ face, doll.” He smirks up at you, putting his fingers into your mouth. “Suck on em.” You do as he says, sucking gently on his fingers, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth with a satisfied grin on his face. He feels himself getting harder within milliseconds. It’s getting extremely uncomfortable, so he pulls himself out. Your mouth falls open at how hard he is. You’ve seen him naked before. It was great and all, but he was never THIS hard. His strong arms pick you up and gently put you down on the bed. He lines himself up at your entrance before pushing in.

“Such a good girl.” He says, pulling your shirt up, revealing your beautiful round tits. He gives them a light squeeze. His cock is now deep inside of you. His movements are getting quick. The both of you are moaning and groaning at the feeling, lost in the pleasure.

Matt lets go first, cumming deep inside of you. You come after that, your cum all over his cock. He pulls himself out carefully before falling down on the bed next to you. “That was fucking amazing.” He pants as his hands trail over your stomach. “You less stressed now?” He asks. You nod, feeling anything but stressed out right now.

He could do something about it after all.

EEE I LOVE THIS!! TYSM FOR 400 FOLLOWERS BTWW😯

[dilfl0v3rss]

i need a small drabble of connie snatching reader up in front of their friends because of something she said or did

i gotchu boo💋

it wasn’t often where you got to go out like this. sitting at the bar with your girls just talking and enjoying each others company. you were having so much fun that you didn’t realize that your boyfriend was outside waiting for you in the car. you told connie to come get you at 9 so that’s exactly what he did. when nine o’clock came he was outside and texting you as he waited for you to come out, but you never did.

you knew he was outside when he sent the text, but you were just so deep in conversation that you didn’t bother responding or moving. “we need t’do this more often man. i be so caught up in other shit i be forgetting that i’m allowed to have fun” mikasa and emoni laughed as you made a sad face while the bartender slid you another drink. “you right girl, we need to start doing this shit every week so we can stay close.” emoni said as she took a sip of her drink. before you could even put your cup to your lips, the sound of footsteps coming your way took your attention. it was your slightly irritated boyfriend, connie. “hey con, coming to have a drink?” mikasa said, making connie smile as he lightly shook his head no. he lowered his lips to your ear, keeping his voice down as he spoke. “uhh you seen me texting you right?” he said, his low voice making a tingle run down your spine.

you loved your man, that much was clear, but you really wanted to stay with your friends. you turned towards his face, giving him a small smile before you spoke. “i got em pa, but i wanna stay” connie rolled his eyes, making your friends eyes widen at your defiance. if you wanted to stay you could’ve just told him not to get you at this time, but you didn’t. you let this man drive all the way over here for nothing and since you wanted to be inconsiderate he wasn’t going to let you get what you and. “well that’s not finna happen, let’s go.” you sucked your teeth, emoni and mikasa tried their best to make it seem like they was minding their business, but they were unsuccessful. both of their eyes glued to the scene unfolding in front of them. “ma get up” connie said, this time standing at his full height as he looked down at you in the chair.

you were getting a little irritated. what didn’t this man understand? you were having fun and didn’t want it to end so soon, and he was embarrassing you in front of your friends. you weren’t going to just let it happen, and since you were in front of people you doubted he would do anything crazy so you pushed to your luck. “boy get the fuc-” you didn’t even get to finish your sentence before connie’s hand was wrapped around your throat, his face lowering closer to yours as he spoke in a low tone. “get up or ima embarrass you in this bar. stop frontin for your lil friends cause at the end of the day they not gon save you” as he let you go, you got up out your seat so you can leave, your panties already pooling with slick as you took a couple steps towards the door. “tell ‘em goodnight mami, be polite” connie mumbled as he took your hand at the door and waited for you to acknowledge your very shocked friends.

“goodnight yall” you mumbled, embarrassment rushing through you as you listened to the giggles and whispers coming from them in there chairs.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Zombie Apocalypse: Yandere Jujutsu Kaisen (2)

Part 1

In an alarming blur of white and black, Gojo introduces himself by jumping in front of you from above

“Hi there (Y/n)! It’s a pleasure to meet you! Chu! You’re as gorgeous as your blood tests suggest.”

“Oh, my Plasma. Please stop embarrassing yourself.”

“Yeah, even I thought that sounded freaky.”

“Well (Y/n) something you’ll find about me is that I’m a freaky guy~”

“Please stop.”

Meeting the eccentric head of the fortress puts you in a spin

Dragging you to dinner and then to some of the activities the fortress has

With a blindfold that occasionally lifts to show striking blue eyes 

You nearly forget to ask the question that introduced him in the first place

“Hey Gojo?”

“Yes, Cutie-pie?”

“Uh…can I get clearance to see the other survivors.”

He gets real quiet 

his smile fades a little but not enough to mean anything

“Why Star-face? I thought you liked all of us over here?”

“I do. I just want to see my group. It’s only been a day but–”

He puts a finger on your mouth not exactly in a shushing motion

But he ushers you away from Yuuji and Megumi who were fighting over a painting

Taking you farther away from all the other members of the fortress he leads you up some stairs

Finally reaching the roof of one of the buildings you can see the other half 

A less developed place

The homes are close, filled with people, and it’s a lot less lit than the areas you’ve been

“That’s where the other survivors go…you want to go down there?”

You hesitate but not for long

“Yeah if my group is there I think we should be together.”

He sighs running a hand through his white hair before taking off his blindfold

Now you can see the way his light eyes dart over the people below 

He laughs 

“That man…with the purple vest pushed a pregnant woman into the horde when they were cornered.”

He doesn’t look at your horrified expression 

Only pointing out a few others who’ve committed something awful

“Why do you let them stay here then? If they did these horrible things?”

“Because they came with those who need us. But too many of them practically kill themselves if they get too far away. It’s like the way parasites shape the brains of their hosts.”

You didn’t like the implication

“Gojo…why do I have the yellow wristband? And why was I separated from my group?”

He pulled you into his chest rubbing his fingers into your side

“Bug, think of it as us intervening before the Parasite gets their final claws in you. Your special and perfect for saving.”

“Wait but my group isn’t–”

“Hush, love. I’m sure you're tired. Today has been a long day for you.”

He ignores any protests from you and only gushes about what you’ll do tomorrow

You stop trying because you are tired 

Letting him lead you back to your room in the tower above the fortress

“Have a fun time, you two?”

“We had a great time!”

He kisses the black-haired scientist before helping himself into your room

He goes through your closets, the bathroom, and your bag still ranting about nonsense you don’t understand

Suguru gives a comforting pat on the back

he gives you a clean version of your pajamas before bidding you goodnight

“C’mon Satoru you’ll get to bother (Y/n) tomorrow.”

“That’s right and I don’t even have work tomorrow so I’ll be with you allll day!”

“Alright, out mister. Goodnight (Y/n) we’ll tell the kids you said so too.”

“Uh, goodnight.”

When the door finally closes you’re able to think about what he said

And then you fall asleep 

Maybe he’s got a point

“So how’d it go?”

“They were asking about the wristband.”

“The whole time?”

“Only at the end, made up somethin’ about parasites.”

“Oh, their friends? I hope you didn’t suggest they were in that town.”

“Eh-I dunno! Can’t you make up something about them being immune?”

“Maybe but it’s going to be hard convincing them.”

“Who cares? We got ‘em now, right? I’d say we try whatever we want.”

“You’re right we do got ‘em.”

They’ll just have to accept whatever we say

[ryuryuryuyurboat]

8 letters, 3 words!

synopsis: confessions are tricky.

genre: fluff

characters: lyney x gn! reader

warnings: modern (college) au, reader is referred to in 2nd person, navia + lynette cameo

a/n: hehe hi @ariicandy! i'm your secret admirer for @ecrin-de-litterature's kiss don't tell event :> hope you like this gift hehe happy valentine's!! likes, reblogs and comments highly appreciated!!

©2024 ryuryuryuyurboat. do not repost, translate, plagiarise, or modify in any way, shape or form.

masterlist

“oh my, y/n, you really do have expensive taste.” navia grins at you from across the table. “did you win the lottery, or something?”

you huff. “no, i found them on my table.” the second you open the lid of the (previously) beautifully decorated tin box, the sweet fragrance of macarons wafts into your nostrils— you almost miss the way your friend’s jaw drops as she openly gapes at the treats. 

“what?” 

“you… er, well, do you know what those are?” navia gleefully looks between you and the macarons.

there’s a soft clink as lynette sets down her teacup. “5 bucks they have no clue,” she bets, earning a soft “tsk” from you and a smug navia crossing her arms as she leans back in her chair. 

“of course i do! they’re macarons! hey–” you protest, as navia dissolves into giggles and lynette sighs, “hey– listen, listen, i may have flunked midterms but that doesn’t mean i—stop laughing!—that doesn’t mean i don’t know a sweet treat when i see one, okay!”

lynette leans forward, an odd glint in her eyes. “these aren’t your ordinary macarons, you know. there’s only one bakery that sells them like this, and people queue for hours just so they can get their hands on one of these– they only sell eleven boxes each day, mind you. it’s like you’re saying your louis vuitton is just some random bag you picked off the streets. a single box can quite literally cost you the skin of your a–”

you cut her off. “i think we know what you mean, just take some if you wanna try ‘em, okay?” 

“still, who’d gift you something so expensive?” navia muses, chewing on the lemon macaron she’d nicked while you weren’t looking. 

“probably the same mystery guy who gave me that plushie bouquet the other day, and then those chocolates from yesterday, and also probably that box of pâte de fruits…” you hum in thought, utterly oblivious to your friends’ astounded gazes.

“...y/n, i think you might have a secret admirer.” 

“wha– hey, wait! what was with that tone when you said ‘who’d give me something that pricey’? you tryna say i’m not worth those?!?”

laughter echoes across the empty cafeteria as you lunge at navia and screech something about wanting her to return the macaron. none of you notice the pair of periwinkle eyes fixed on your figure from afar.

—

“ooooh, does someone have a secret admirer~?” navia peeks over your shoulder at the white envelope lying innocently on your desk. “y’know,” she continues, unfazed by your side-eye, “if it’s the same guy that got you those macarons, maybe you should consider getting–”

“shut up,” you grumble, feeling your ears heat up, “i don’t even know who gave me all these.” 

“do people not normally sign their names somewhere?”

“just the initials.” you unfold the enclosed paper, pointing to the very bottom, where the letters LS were printed. “who’s that supposed to be? lonely spirit?”

you don’t see a certain someone’s eyes dim when you don’t bother reading the letter and shove the envelope into your bag.

—

13 february. 7 days since you started receiving letters. 7 days since you got your first plushie bouquet (how the sender knew your favourite blooms and even your favourite character was a mystery you had yet to solve). and 1 day before valentine’s. 

the letter you got today was way simpler than the flowery words that filled the pages from before:

3 boxes, 8 letters. think you’ll be able to figure it out, ma chérie? that’s the key to your last gift.

(hint: the way each letter starts is important. good luck♡)

“the way each letter starts?” lynette shrugs, “no idea. probably something like the first letter of the first word.”

“lynette,” you begin, “you’re a genius!”

one problem, though. you only received 5 letters. oh, well, didn’t hurt to try, right?

“let’s see…” you lay out the letters on the table, trying hard to ignore the contents that made you blush so furiously in the safety of your bedroom. “u, l, v, o, i, e…” you mutter, before navia gives you a light shove.

“no way it’s taking you so long, isn’t it already so obvious?”

“???”

“rearrange the letters—where’s my pen— and what do you get?”

you stare mutely at the letters. “...i love u.” you read, before you’re hit with a realisation.

“wait– boxes are containers, and then words are like containers for letters– and then, and then… and then i love you makes up eight letters in three letters! i’m a genius!”

“if you’re such a genius, you should’ve noticed a certain someone staring at you.” lynette nods at a point behind you, “go get your man, y/n. i don’t wanna hear complaints about being single for valentine’s.”

you turn– and there stood lyney snezhevich, in all his glory, a bouquet in his hand. he offers you an apprehensive smile as he extends his arms for you to accept the flowers—your final gift— and averts his eyes. 

“seems you’ve managed to crack the code, ma chérie. now, then, if you hadn’t known from the letters… will you be my valentine?”

taglist: @yinyinggie @lynyluvr @kazemiya @meidnightrain @thexianzhoujade @dailypenpen (send ask to be added to taglist!)

if you liked this, do consider dropping me a follow for more :>

[poppy-metal]

could you PLS talk abt moody reader and bsf patrick. and i'm not even talking abt smut, just that dynamic. she's not necessarily rude all the time, just kinda hesitant to do things. he's always pushing her into doing things that he knows she'll enjoy eventually even if she's reluctant at first (and he's always right). like one time he finds out that she doesn't know how to swim, never learned bc her parents just never took her to lessons and now it's his mission to teach her. and he's always the one who initiates physical touch and she pretends like it bothers her when he hugs her while he's all sweaty but secretly loves the affection. and she's torn when patrick is asking abt her opinion on the new girl she's seeing bc on one hand, the new gf is pretty and nice and smart so she's not gonna lie and be a pick me (and patrick values his bsf's opinion sm so she knows she has to be careful) but she's on the other hand she's in love with him and that should be HER not the other girl. sorry for the rant LMAO i didn't think this was gonna turn out so long

oh to be patricks autistic - mistaken for a bitch - best friend. everything he does, if it was someone else you'd be so unbelievablely triggered and upset. putting you in a headlock when hes sweaty and gross, throwing his arm around you and dragging you into his side - you snap at him and call him disgusting but theres never any heat to it. you'd never admit but you like the attention, soak it up like a flower does the sun. its strange to compare patrick zweig to the sun but thats what he is to you - you're always gravitating towards him. reaching tendrils out. when one of your snarky remarks makes him laugh out loud you feel like you could walk on air. and he's alot of things like loud, and mouthy, and impulsive, but he also remembers your favorite order from your favorite places, he lets you borrow his hoodies when you're cold and he never asks for them back - you asked one day, secretly hoping he'd say no but worried he was missing them "do you want me to give em'back?" and he'd just jostled your shoulder with his shrug and shook his head "its fine - i have a shit ton, and you wear em' better anyways" - he shit talks people with you and doesn't say anything about your absolutely insane statements like "ill behead them all and use their bones for kindling." he just snorts and asks if you can make him a s'more. you love him a little desperately. a little so much that when you take a moment to really look at him, his sun freckled skin, the messy tangles and wisps of his hair, the way his nose curves, the way he stands, sits, moves his hands, it hurts.

it hurts especially bad when you remember you cant have him that way - the way he has other girls - the way he has them gasping and pleading in the back of his car, moaning his name - because you'll always just be his friend. the girl who can make him laugh so hard pepsi squirts out of his nose. never the girl he'd want flushed and in his bed.

(you're stupid.)

[sporadicthingcollection]

The Unskinny Bop (Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: You're a really good cook and that's most of the problem. The rest of it is that he's too weak-willed to resist a treat right in front of him. Pairing: Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: 🌶 Explicit 🌶 Word Count: ~6.1k Warnings: Body insecurity (male and female), cunnilingus, masturbation, PiV sex A/N: Dad Bod Buggy my beloved

---

She's playing all night And the music's all right Mama's got a squeeze box And Daddy never sleeps at night

---

It's his own damn fault, really.

He's the one who charmed the pretty diner cook — that’d be you — into joining his crew. It was an easy sell. You get off of the little podunk island you’re stuck on and he gets those delicious little puffy pastry things every morning.

What he didn’t expect was how well you made everything else. He's had to let his pants out three times in two months because of it.

Fluffy pancakes, perfectly slung hash, and a pie-looking thing with eggs and vegetables and cheese you called a “keesh” for breakfast. Sandwiches stuffed with veggies and meat, piles of pasta tossed in rich sauce, and thick slabs of juicy steak for dinner. Not to mention the mountains of snacks and treats in between.

He came to realize that food is a key aspect of your personality. It's just what you do. A dog chases its tail, Richie pushes things off of tables, and you flit around the deck like a pastry pixie, abducting people into the galley for taste-testing. 

Like right now.

His only warning that you're coming is a chirped “Captain!” before he's yanked through the door. He doesn't even have time to react before you've shoved a spoonful of something into his mouth.

He's not surprised. You do it to everyone who walks in. Food is how you show affection.

“Whaddya think?” you ask.

He swallows it too quickly to make a judgment, but it's sweet and that's all he needs to know. “Tasty.”

Every time you smile, he swears a flashbulb goes off somewhere. “Good,” you say. “It'll be even better tomorrow.”

He doesn't even bother to hide the whine. “What?”

“They're icebox pies, silly goose,” you say. “You gotta let ‘em chill.”

Another thing about you is that you're a tease. Form-fitting blouses done up just a button too short and your hair pulled back to show off your soft shoulders. A sweet little wink and a touch of the shoulder as you place a plate in front of him. And now feeding him something delicious only to tell him he has to wait until tomorrow to have more.

Your fingers snapping in front of his face jolt him back to the present. “Huh?”

“I asked if you wanted to lick the spoon,” you say.

Does he wanna lick the spoon? What kind of question is that? He plucks it from your hands. “Is the sky blue? Do bears shit in the woods? Am I the captain?”

You roll your eyes, but you smile. “Gonna stick these in the big cooler and I'll be right back for the other,” you say.

Carefully, you pick up two of the three foil-covered pie tins resting on the counter and turn on your heel.

He watches you closely as you round the corner and out of sight. Such a nice soft ass you've got. He desperately wants to grab it, but the one time you got goosed, you slugged the guy so hard he was out cold for the rest of the day.

Something pink, creamy, and flecked with seeds coats the wooden spoon. He drags his tongue along the back of it and--

Oh. Oh, that is good.

His taste buds scream in ecstasy. The slightest little moan escapes his lips. For the briefest of moments, he thinks it's better than sex and his cock twitches, but he regains his sense of self before going completely mad.

He licks and licks and licks until every little drop of pink, sweet, creamy filling is gone.

Frustration bubbles in his chest. Waiting all night for this is gonna suck. Especially since you probably won't be whipping it out for breakfast.

He is captain, though. He could order you to give it to him. But you'd almost certainly laugh in his face and he really, really doesn't want that.

The shimmer of foil catches his eye. The third pie sits on the counter. Untouched. Uneaten. Mocking him in its creamy deliciousness.

He looks around. You're nowhere to be seen.

...maybe just a little bit.

He scrapes barely half a spoonful from the top. Not enough to be noticeable, just enough to satisfy his sweet tooth.

Mmm. Smooth. Thick. Sweet. Fruity. Delicious.

...a little bit more can't hurt. Then he can wait until tomorrow.

He gets a piece of the fruit itself this time and the squirt of juice on his tongue is enough to make him spoon up another dollop. And then another. And then another.

This is why your pants are so tight, his inner monologue chides. This is why you need a new belt. This is why you wear that thing around your waist. Goddamn hedonist.

They're not that tight, he retorts. And they wouldn't be at all if you weren't such a damn good cook. It's all your fault for putting delicious food in front of him and looking so pretty while doing it.

He turns to lean against the counter, only to stop dead.

You're standing there, eyes wide and brows raised. You point at him, then at the pie tin, then back at him. “Are you... Eating the...?”

“No,” he says quickly. He realizes he's holding the pie tin. “No.”

Something odd glints in your eyes as you approach him. Gingerly, you take the pie and the spoon from his hands. He lets you. You step even closer.

You're so close to him, close enough for him to feel the rise and fall of your breasts. Hell, you're so short compared to him that he can see straight down your shirt.

His heart races. What are you going to do? Throw it out? Throw him out? Punch his lights out? Never speak of this again? 

To his amazement, you do none of those things. Instead, you spoon up a bit more of the pie filling and raise it to his lips. You blink up at him with big doe eyes.

He looks between you and the spoon a few times. This can't be right. You should be furious. He opens his mouth to say something, but it's forgotten as you shove the spoon in his mouth.

Why are strawberries so delicious? Why is he so weak? Why are your breasts so warm and squishy against him?

He swallows it and, as he opens his mouth to breath, you shove another spoonful in. It's just as good the twentieth time.

You offer him another. And another. And another. He accepts them all.

Until he goes to take another and you pull it away. He frowns at you. You pull it back farther and farther. He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand closer. You resist, but he's spent every day of his life trimming sails and hauling cargo.

He gets the spoon into his mouth and claims his prize with a smirk.

That glint in your eyes turns into a blaze. You drop the pie tin and spoon and they hit the floor with a clatter. Pulling your wrist from his grip, you grab him by the cheeks and yank him into a kiss.

He yelps against your lips and you take the opportunity to shove your tongue between them. Licking, lapping, pressing your soft, warm body right up against his.

Only a eunuch could resist this.

He kisses you back with the same fervor, grabbing your ass to lift you up a bit and it's so soft and pliant and perfect that he can't help but dig his fingers in.

Oh, it's everything he dreamed it would be. Your warm lips moving against his, your slick tongue dancing in his mouth, your soft palms gripping his jaw.

You've lapped up all the lingering sweetness in his mouth by the time he runs out of breath. He pushes you away and you whimper, your eyes wide and your shoulders heaving up and down.

Deprived of oxygen, he says something completely, absolutely, utterly brain dead. “Can I touch your tits?”

Instead of slapping him, you nod so hard your updo shakes loose. Curly strands fall in your face.

He blinks. “Wait, really?” You nod harder. “You sure?”

Something in you snaps. He can see it in your eyes. You grab him by the hand and damn near drag him out the door.

A quick trip up the stairs and across the main deck and he's pushing open the door to his quarters. You bustle past him and, once the click of the lock sounds, you grab him by the collar and yank him into another kiss, just as wet and desperate as the last.

He barely has enough time to shuck his coat about you throw him onto the bed, clambering atop him. You're a bit heavier than he expects. Not that he says that to your face, but you’re so light on your feet that he was starting to think you were filled with cotton candy. You're certainly sweet enough.

You yank his hat from his head and toss it aside. His bandana follows and his hair falls around his shoulders.

You suck in a breath. “So pretty.”

He shrugs. “Thanks-- mmph.”

He’s silenced by you standing on your knees to pull his hair out of its pigtails. This requires you to stick your tits in his face and oh my god they're like big marshmallows you smell like cinnamon.

He can't help himself. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in closer, breathing deeply. So warm, so soft.

You giggle and the vibration makes his face tingle. You pull away to fiddle with your blouse buttons. “Wanna know a secret?” you whisper.

“Is the secret boobs?” Wow, what the hell was that? He needs to stop talking.

Lucky for him, you grin. You open your blouse and a whole lot more than he was expecting spills out. You toss the blouse to the side and plant your hands on your hips. “Va-va-voom.”

He's speechless. Shaken. Struck utterly dumb by the sight before him. All he can do is pull off his gloves and take them in his hands, pushing them, weighing them, squeezing them. There’s just… so much. Round, squishy, bouncy, threatening to surge right out of your lacy bra.

“I am but one man,” he mumbles.

That makes you giggle and that makes them jiggle. Like two sacks of...like a pair of...

...he can't think of a metaphor that isn't unpleasant, so he just sticks his face in there again before something else stupid comes out of his mouth. You laugh even more and it vibrates against his cheeks and his -- that... -- and if God struck him down at this very second he would die a happy man.

You let him linger a moment before throwing your weight forward to push him onto the bed. He whimpers like a kicked puppy as you pull away.

You nibble your lip and knit your brow up as you fumble with his belt. “I showed you mine, now you show me yours.”

He's flattered, but it's the only thing keeping his stomach in check. That can't come off yet.

He takes your hands in his own. “What's the rush, beautiful?” he says. He brings them to his lips, first one, then the other. He gently kisses your knuckles, your palms, your wrists. “This is your show. We got all night.”

You're cute when you huff. You're even cuter when your face screws up into a pout. You yank your hands away and plant them on your soft hips. “Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for this?” you whine.

That throws him for a loop and a half. You've wanted him too? Someone as clever and cute and talented as you wanted... him? He's not used to that. Not used to that at all.

He's stunned just long enough for you to get his belt open. You move on to his vest straps next, making quick work of those. He sucks his stomach in just as you pull it open.

Your eyes widen, and you break into a grin as they sweep up and down his torso. “Oh, hell-o,” you say, voice breathless.

He's bright red, he just knows it. “Hi,” he replies dumbly. He hopes the strain in his voice isn't too obvious.

You grin even wider. Your fingers ghost up his sides -- thank God it's his feet that are ticklish -- right up to his pecs. You give them a squeeze, not unlike how he palmed your breasts a few moments ago. The slightest of squeaks escapes him.

“I knew you were hiding something good,” you say. You give his nipples a tweak -- he squeaks louder -- and trail your fingers down to his waistband. “Let's see what else you've been keeping from me.”

He knows you're talking about his dick. He panics all the same.

He shoots a hand out to kill the light -- that should buy him some time -- and throws his weight into flipping you over. You squeal as he pins you to the bed and yanks your pants off.

And then he realizes. Your breasts? They're proportional.

Beneath him is the most lovely expanse of body he's ever seen. Soft and warm and squishy and made of convex curves that flow from gentle arms and smooth shoulders right into a pair of plump hips and shapely thighs.

He can't form words. He can't form thoughts. All he can do is stare with his mouth dropped open. What else can you do when you're in the presence of the divine?

And then he sees your face. Your eyes wide and unsure as they dart around the room. Your lips pressed together into a terse line. 

“What?” he asks.

The line scrunches to the side. “I'm bigger than I ought to be, I know,” you say. You sound as if you've said it a thousand times.

He gets mad. He can't help it. It's what he does. “Are you shitting me?”

You flinch a little, though more out of surprise than fear. “N-No, I don't--”

He wants to say so many things. About how this is perfection. About how you are the most gorgeous human being he's ever laid eyes on. About how this is everything he's ever wanted in life. How you're everything and you shouldn't be so damn sheepish.

But he can't get it out. All that comes out is a raspy, rude, “Shut the fuck up.”

You stare at him in shock. And not the fun shock. It's the kind where you're not sure if you've stepped on eggshells or not.

Fuck it. No time for words. He grabs your thighs and pulls you forward, yanking your panties off and sweet holy shit you don't shave down there how could you possibly be any more perfect?

His mouth waters. His cock throbs. He dives in. He drags his tongue up your inner thighs, soft and smooth and sweet as that pie.

“Captain--!” A nip to the tender flesh turns the exclamation into a squeak.

“I said shut up,” he says between kisses.

Finally, you stop talking. You only pant and moan as he shoves his face into your pussy, lapping at your already sopping cunt. Did he do this? Are you this wet because of him?

He can't help it. He stuffs his hand down the front of his pants to fondle himself. Like the desperate bastard he is, his cock’s hard and leaking already.

He grinds against his palm as he gorges himself on you. Licking, sucking, swirling, punctuating with a few nips for good measure. It's all harmonized by the most beautiful sounds he's ever heard flowing from your lips, high-pitched and whiny.

He's not sure how long has passed when you grab his head and push him away. Time flows strangely between your thighs.

You've got a crazed look in your eyes again. “I want you inside me.”

He wants to say something clever, something cool and on brand for him, like it's not time for the finale yet or but my leading lady isn't satisfied.

But that would delay being inside you and he's too addled to think of anything. He jumps to his feet and wriggles out of his trousers and shorts. If he were more aware of himself, he'd be humiliated by just how much he has to shimmy and dance around to get them off his hips, but there's not enough blood in his brain to be self-conscious.

He kicks them away in whatever direction. Something crashes to the floor and he doesn't care. He looks back to your beautiful face--

You're wide-eyed as you look at him. He follows your gaze, right down to his--

In all the excitement, he's not sucking it in anymore.

Now it's his turn to be sheepish. He sucks it in again. But he can't hold it. Too much blood in his cock. He tries again with the same result.

Unfortunately for him, it's drawn your attention even more. Off comes your bra, and you don't take your eyes off his stomach the whole time.

Now he really can't think anymore. They're just so pretty and perfect. You're so pretty and perfect. He doesn't deserve this. This is a hell of a mismatch if ever there was one. You, divinity in the flesh. Him, a fat, dirty old clown.

This is a joke. It has to be. Someone put you up to this and now you're gonna back out and he's gonna let you because you deserve better so he better just rip the bandage off now and--

“Out,” he spits. “Get out.”

You blink at him in shock, then your face hardens. You speak with the firmness of a queen who's sick of her courtiers’ bullshit. “Get over here and get on top of me.”

You're mocking him. You gotta be. There’s no other explanation. “I said--”

You look him in the eyes. Something dangerous glitters there. “Buggy, get the fuck on top of me.”

It comes out at a hoarse yell. “Stop mocking me!”

You spring upwards and, with that wild strength that surprises him every time, you throw him on the bed. It squeaks as he bounces -- actually, that might have come from him.

You've got a look on your face he can only describe as murderous. “I did not wait two months for you to chicken out,” you say. You clamber onto him. “I did not wait two fucking months for you to finally man up and say something only for you to get self-conscious!”

Fear, anger, and arousal battle for control of his body. Arousal wins. You are hot as a griddle when you're mad.

You sit yourself on his belly, just above his cock. It twitches against your ass and he's sure it's made of clouds and he groans.

“Look at me,” you say.

He doesn't. He can't. He doesn't want to see the scorn that's surely in your eyes.

You learn forward and grab his chin, squeezing his cheeks and forcing him to look. Even in the dim light, he can see the sheen of sweat on your face and the rise and fall of your chest as you pant.

“If you want me to leave, I will,” you say, “but you will never get this chance again.”

No. No no no no. He wants you. He wants you so bad. He's never had perfection this close and it's never wanted him as much as you seem to.

“Do you want me to leave?” you ask firmly.

He shakes his head so hard it hurts.

You don't grin. You simply release his chin and lift yourself up. You lower yourself on his cock and, as he watches it disappear, inch by slick inch into your hot, wet pussy, the battle is over.

He doesn't care if this is a trick anymore. He's going to get his.

He grabs your thighs and pulls you down onto him, fingers sinking into the smooth flesh. You gasp as he bottoms out, gripping the swell of his hips. He doesn't care. They're called love handles for a reason.

And then you start to bounce.

It starts in your legs. Pumping your thighs to lift yourself up and drop down onto his cock. The jolt ripples through your whole body, from your thighs to your belly to your breasts.

He's transfixed. So transfixed that he doesn't even notice you grabbing his pecs, squishing and squashing them between your gentle fingers. You tweak his nipples and he damn near howls.

He can't let you have all the fun. He pops his hand off to swirl his fingers around your clit.

But you don't cry out or moan. You start babbling. Something about eating and how hot he is and how much you love that he loves your cooking and it's all interspersed with pleasant-sounding gibberish. But he doesn't hear a word of it. You're too warm and slick and it goes in one ear and it the other.

But the sounds. God, the sounds of him sliding in and out of you. Wet and disgusting and it makes his mouth water and his cock leak and that just makes it wetter--

The slap of skin on skin and wet on wet and his moans and your chattering all mingle into a delicious symphony. 

But it stops all too soon. Your breath hitches and you bend at the waist, singing his name like a songbird, the same little melody over and over. “Buggy, Buggy, Buggy...!”

His name dissolves into little yips and gasps as your cunt flutters around his cock. It's so good. Better than treasure. Better than adrenaline. Better than a full belly after a hard day's work--

He realizes he's not wearing a condom. Fuck. “Where ya want it?” he grunts.

You don't hesitate. “In me,” you say between gasps.

In you? Inside you? Spilling his hot, wet cum into your hot, wet cunt? Your cunt? Soaking it? Seeding it? Making it even messier and sloppier and filling you up so much that--

He almost pops right then and there, but he bites his lip. “Nuh-uh. Where?”

“In me!” you spit.

He whines the most unmanly of whines. He will. He won't. He wants to. He can't. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Captain,” you whimper, “Buggy, please...”

He looks up at you. Your hands on his chest, your breasts heaving with each breath, your little belly rising and falling, your luscious thighs on either side of his hips, your lips dropped open as you pant, your bush surrounding his fingers--

God damn it.

He throws you to the side as he pops like a champagne cork. A few drops end up on you, but most of it splatters onto the underside of his belly, where it's started obeying gravity.

One hand grips the sheets and the other grips something warm and his hips buck and his head swims and his mouth makes utterly pathetic noises. Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes.

He crashes back to earth like a meteor strike. All he can see is white as he flops back onto the mattress, gasping for breath.

He has no idea how long it takes for him to recover. But something soft tickles the knuckles of his detached hand. A shudder racks him as he turns his head towards you.

Post-orgasm haze still clouds your eyes, but they're big and round as a doe’s as you cradle his hand close to his face. You press your lips to his knuckles.

He gives a weak smile. “Hi.”

You giggle. God, he loves that giggle. He wishes he could hear it every day. He'd put it in a sea shell if he could, carry it around in his pocket and press it to his ear whenever he feels lonely. Or spin it into cotton candy. It's certainly light and sweet enough. Or whip it up onto a foam and fold it into batter like he watched you do that one time for cake...

His stomach growls. He needs to stop thinking about food.

You kiss his knuckles again, still smiling so very sweetly. “Are you alright?”

“Fuckin’ amazing,” he mumbles. It's the truth.

Detaching his other hand, he feels around on the floor. There's a towel here somewhere... Unless he threw it on the chair... Or over the folding screen...

He finds it slung over the door of his wardrobe. He offers it to you, but you shake your head. “After you.”

Suit yourself. He mops his belly up as you watch. Shit, this was a big one.

Satisfied, he tosses the towel away. He rolls over to take you in his arms, but he finds nothing. You're standing up, pulling his coat on and closing it around your front.

“Get over here,” he says. “That's an order.”

“I gotta clean up,” you say.

He panics. He can't help it. His voice quivers like a child's. “Don’t leave. Please.”

You give him a kind look that almost makes him cry. “I’ll be right back,” you coo. “I promise.”

He doesn't want to be alone. Not now. Tears prick at his eyes and his lip quivers. But you're out the door before he can stop you.

You're not coming back. He knows it. He disappointed you. How could he not? You're beautiful. You're divine. You're perfect.

And what is he? A fat old clown.

He lays there, shivering in the cold air, too afraid to move. Too aware of his shortcomings. Too aware of every flaw, every defect, every deficiency. His temper. His teeth. His nose. His appetite. His everything.

The door opens. The moonlight frames your silhouette for a moment before you close the door behind you.

He nearly sobs with relief. You don't notice, thankfully, as you shuck his coat.

He launches his arms at you as he sits upright, pulling you into an embrace as he falls back down. He lays you to the side, slipping under your arm and tucking his head in the crook between your chin and chest.

You thread your fingers through his hair. “Don't tell me you thought I wasn't coming back.”

He murmurs something he forgets as soon as it leaves his lips. You're so soft. So warm. So comfortable. And he's so exhausted.

You giggle. You kiss his forehead and slide your fingers through his hair. “Bonwee, sha.”

He has no idea what that means, but you say it with such warmth that it must be something good. He snuggles up close to you.

Rocked by the sea and calmed by your heartbeat, he drifts off.

---

He sleeps well, but he stirs a few times.

The first is when you shift out from under him, mumbling something in a language he can't place. You roll onto your side, your back to him. He doesn't like that at all and pulls you in to be the little spoon. You squeak. It's cute. He doesn't care that his belly presses against your back. 

He stirs again when his arm falls asleep and he rolls onto his side. You follow him this time. You press yourself right up against his back, breasts and belly and thighs squishing against him. You're so warm.

The final time is as the gray light of dawn slips through the windows. He's shaken from a dream and he grumbles.

“I gotta go get started on breakfast,” you whisper. “Just wanted to let you know I wasn't lovin’ and leavin’.”

That's so sweet of you. “You're so sweet,” he mumbles sweetly.

You giggle. “See you in a few hours.”

You kiss the tip of his nose and he's not even upset.

===

You had a lovely night, but you're walking a bit funny and it's making your usual bustling around the galley just difficult enough to be annoying. And the visions of your stark naked captain filling your head are making it even harder.

You're a very simple woman, like your mother before you. You like men. You like food. You like men who like food. You especially like men who like your food.

Captain Buggy's a man. Captain Buggy likes food. And he loves your food, if his constant hovering in the galley is anything to go on. And he loves it a lot and it's showing.

The memory of him lying beneath you, his warm hips against your thighs, his belly wobbling as you bounce atop him, his head thrown back in bliss, surprises you just as you're tossing a flapjack. It slams into the ceiling and stays there.

Your fellow cook, a swarthy fellow going by Bloomer, casts the new ceiling decor an odd look. He turns it on you. “You alright, girl?”

You know what? Screw this. Everyone else can handle breakfast. “I'm gonna go wake up the captain,” you say. “How's he like his coffee?”

Milk and two cubes of sugar, he tells you. You put in cream and three cubes. Man's gotta get his strength back from last night, you tell yourself as you set off across the deck. 

You knock three times on the door. No answer. You knock harder. Still nothing. You take that as a sign he may be dead and enter just in case.

Captain Buggy is, in fact, quite alive, if not also naked. He's in front of the mirror... or his face is, anyways. His body is turned completely around as he examines the reflection of his rear. He grabs a handful, thick fingers sinking into the squish. He gives it a jiggle and it wobbles.

You don't blame him. It's a great ass. Perfect for grabbing and digging your nails into. Next time, you're making him get on top so you can do just that. 

But you prefer his front. That's where all the good shit is. Soft, muscular pecs, perfect for grabbing and groping, covered in a dusting of hair that trails down to his soft belly.

His hands go there next, pinching his sides. He gives them a shake and his belly bounces. 

That little zing shoots up your gut and into your throat, that one you always get around men like him. That same one as when you first saw him from across the diner, draining a pitcher of beer. The same one you had last night when you walked in on him eating pie filling. And now, watching him preening after a wild romp.

...or you thought he was preening. He turns his body around and as his hands go to his face -- he's got a stronger jawline than you'd expected when he's barefaced -- you notice his laugh lines deepen. He lets out a grunt of disgust as his lips curl.

You frown. He's saying ugh as if you couldn't keep your hands off of him last night. Coaxing him in closer with pie filling just so you could feel his body molding against yours. Grabbing his cheeks and yanking him in for a kiss you'd been craving for months. Dragging him to his cabin and fucking yourself on him while you dug your nails into whatever soft flesh you could grab.

You close the door with a firm check of the hips. The slam startles him, but he calms as he sees you. Somewhat. There's still an uneasy look in his eye.

“G’morning,” he says. A little blush blooms across his cheeks. He avoids eye contact.

He'd be cute if he wasn't pathetic. You set the coffee down on the nearest surface and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your hands on the swell just above his hips and resting your cheek between his shoulder blades.

“Thank you for finally taking the hint,” you say into his skin.

He chuckles, a low, vibrating thrum. “I never miss a cue, baby.”

Lies. You've been trying everything. Flirting. Making his favorite food. You even went braless one day on a supply run with him and he didn't even blink. Idiot.

“Then why'd it take you so damn long?”

He scoffs. “Had to make sure I wasn't seeing things,” he mumbles.

He's so pathetic. Like a wet cat. You can't help but squeeze his sides--

He jumps away from you like you gave him an electric shock. “Stop it!” he spits.

You blink. “Stop what?”

“Stop-- Stop mocking me!”

You blink a few more times. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

The flush deepens along with his scowl. “Quit touching me like that.”

Not what he was saying last night. “Like what?”

“Stop grabbing my--” He huffs. “I know I’m fat. Quit rubbing it in.”

Pardon? Did you hear that correctly? Does he know who he's talking to? You try to keep your tone even, but you were never good at that. “Permission to speak freely, Captain?”

He blanches. “...No.”

Too bad. You grab him by the waist and throw him onto the bed. He yelps as he bounces, then once again as you straddle his waist.

“Buggy. Darling. Cher,” you say. “Do you really think I would have fucked you if I didn't think you were hot shit?”

He simmers like a boiling pot with the lid still on. “Maybe!”

Pour l’amour de Dieu, c’est un contraieuse et un tête de cabri et pourquoi ce clown so fucking stupid?

You scoot backwards, kissing your way down his chest. Each one gets a tiny grunt from him until you get to his belly. He growls and tries to roll away, but you hold fast. You gently kiss just above his navel, then the tuft of blue hair right below it.

You peer up at him. He peers back, brow knit up, questioning you.

You press your face into his navel and blow a raspberry against his skin.

Buggy squeal-laughs. You've never heard him make that noise before and it's very cute. You do it again and he devolves into laughter.

“Sto-o-op!” he cackles.

You do not. You do it again and again until he's wheezing and not scowling any more. You stare up at him, fingering the tuft of hair below his navel.

He comes down slowly, cackles turning to giggles to breathless gasps. He finally sees you staring. “What?”

“Feeling better?” you ask. He huffs, but he does nod. “Good. Now stop being mean to my favorite captain.”

He frowns a bit at that. “Who’s that? Alvida? When'd she come up?” You keep staring at him. He blinks. “Wait, you mean--?”

Gros couillion. “No, the other guy I fucked last night,” you say. He bristles. Fuck’s sake. “Yes, you!”

He blinks again. The flush returns. “You mean that?”

“I wouldn't be on top of your naked-ass body if I didn't.” You place lean in close, the tip of your nose bumping his. “And you have a very nice body, Captain.”

Just for emphasis, you grab his side, right at the fleshiest part, and give a hard squeeze. He jumps, but nods.

He tries to dive in for a kiss, but you pull away. If you do that, you'll be here all morning. You stand up, offering him your hands. “C’mon, breakfast is ready,” you say.

“I'm not hungry.” His stomach growls. He glares at it. “Shut up.”

Trump card time. “Guess I'll just have to feed all those beignets to Richie, then.”

His eyes go wide. “...you made bin-yays?”

He still can't pronounce it right, but he's getting there. “Sure did,” you say coolly. You examine your nails. “Won't be good for much longer.”

His stomach growls again. “And that pie?” 

“Should be good to go, but you better be quick. They'll go fast.”

He jumps to his feet and licks his lips. “Well, keep some for me! Lemme-- Lemme get dressed and I'll be right down.”

“Don't take too long,” you say.

You turn to leave, but he grabs your hand. With a yank and a twirl, he pulls you flush against him and into a kiss.

You melt right into it. Rough lips move against yours, his warm body molds against you, strong arms holding you tight, belly pressing against yours... his nose squishing into your cheek. Wonderful, all of it.

You separate with a pop. He grins at you and wipes his wrist along his lips. “Didn’t think I was gonna let you leave without that?”

You blush. Now he decides to be slick. “Just get dressed.”

You twirl him around and, with a flat hand, you swat his ass. Just to see it quiver. The slap echoes in the small room and he jumps, but you can't stick around to see the look on his face.

You've got work to do.

---

Special thanks to my bf, Meg, and Ollie for beta-ing!

To the Mastahpost | To the Tip Jar

[caitchercatlady]

He'll Have to Go Through Me

-Savanaclaw Version

Leona Kingscholar

Though Leona doesn't often show it, he greatly cares for the people he tolerates. How do you think he still keeps his dorm in order? Ever since his overblot ordeal, Leona sees more potential in you, and it doesn't hurt to have you around. This type of attention from the Savanaclaw Housewarden does make the rest of the dorm jealous, which brings negative attention on yourself. As you are studying in the garden, you end up being ambushed by a few disgruntled Savanaclaw students, threatening you to prove yourself worthy of Leona's rare acknowledgements. Little do they know that they're useless yelling has woken up nearby Leona from his nap, and he's not happy about any of the situation at large.

"My dorm lackeys may have the brawns, but you truly lack the brains. You were so cowardly that instead of taking your anger out on me, you take it out on a freshman. Go ahead. I'm listening."

The cowards "eep" their way out of the garden as fast as their legs can take them. Leona walks up to you and pats you on the head, reassuringly. He reminds you that you have the power to give yourself permission to not deal with idiots, especially when they encroach on your personal space. If you ever need help on how to do that, Leona is there to give you the basics.

Ruggie Bucchi

Like Ruggie is a tease, but he would never stand back and watch bullying happen, especially if it inolves money. He knows about the struggle at home, and those instincts spike at every reminder. Ruggie catches up with you on your way to the cafeteria. He wonders if you're gonna get the special today, but when you worriedly say no, he gets suspicious. You never miss out on the special sandwiches unless something is wrong. You mention that you owe someone money, and he suspects it's your Heartslabyul besties. You shiver at the thought. He stops you and demands to know who is exploiting you, and you ask how Ruggie knows that. Does Ruggie really need to tell you that?

Once learning of this tyrant, Ruggie storms into the cafeteria with a flame of vengeance burning in his belly. He taunts that he knows many a Housewarden who are looking to pay an underclassman to work for them. Considering how the guy's been threatening for lunch money, Ruggie assures him that if he works for either Leona, Azul, Kalim, or Vil, the bully could buy all the meals in the world, so he can skip one meal for one day until then. With that said, Ruggie made it safe for you to purchase your special.

"That'll teach 'em. Money is precious, Prefect. No one is entitled to yours...unless you have them to work for ya, of course. Anyway, if he bothers you again, call me, and I'll enact Plan B, no questions about it."

Jack Howl

Jack, the more you interact with him, may seem like a guy who doesn't care about anyone except himself, but if you're ever in trouble, Jack is there to prove you wrong. It's also clear that due to your reputation as an academic brain for a layperson, you unintentionally gain some enemies. You do your best to ignore their taunting. One day though, your bullies refuse to back down despite your quiet neutrality. They corner you in the halls and demand you get on the ground and submit.

A growling rebuttal sends shivers down to every single delinquint's spine. The last person they expected to interrupt the scuffle was also the very last person they wanted to see (other than the Housewardens, especially Malleus). Justice is the will of the wolf, and if lowlifes are going to pick a fight with a layperson, how about they fight Jack instead, no magic being the only rule? Cowardly as they are, the bullies run off, out of sight. Jack pulls you in for a hug as you are shaken by the interaction that just took place.

"You don't have to deal with any of that. No friend of mine is going to deal with any of that. Ya understand me?"

Jack may not know it, but his comforting side is brushing your fear right out of your body. This warm feeling urges you to latch onto Jack like a cub to its mother. With each "thank you" that you let out, the more Jack's face blushes pink. He knows that no matter how much he tells you not to make such a big deal out of it, it'll fall on deaf ears, so he lets this slide.

[rainydayathogwarts]

Open arms - Emily Prentiss

Smut - the way this fic has been sitting half written in my drafts forever. Go me for finally getting it done. Summary: Emily can't help but approach her ex in a dimly-lit bar wc: 2.1k

Emily thought that the night would be nice and relaxing for her and the team, celebrating another closed case at their favourite bar, their laughter drowning out the sounds of other people's conversations in the dim-lit restaurant. That was until her eyes locked in on a familiar figure standing near the bar, most definitely accompanied by someone. Emily froze, her hand tightly gripping her drink, and audibly gasped when you turned around, exposing your face to her.

"Y/n?" She whispered, catching Penelope and Derek's attention, who both turned to look at her. "You okay there Prentiss?" But she really wasn't. You were her only partner who ever stayed up waiting for her to come home from a case, genuinely concerned about her. You held her in your arms, letting her just sit there and open up if she wanted to. If she didn't, it didn't bother you, and you showered her with love nonetheless, always managing to pull a smile from her. And you were definitely the best in bed. Having you withering under her, relentlessly crying out her name was an image Emily would never forget.

She regretted leaving you every day, but it would keep you safe. After seeing what Hotch had to go through, she knew it was the smartest decision. Now that you were there though, in person after over a year of being apart, she wouldn't be able to stay away from you. If you would let her that was. She remembered your reaction, how you completely broke down, calling bullshit on her 'keeping you safe' excuse.

"I'm fine." She said, bringing herself out of her trance to take a long sip of her drink. "That an ex of yours?" Derek questioned, looking at you, now talking to a friend. You looked gorgeous, he thought. Your short black dress showed off your long legs and had a low cut to display your biggest weapon, the heels you wore flexing your calf muscles in the nicest way possible. Your stunning smile exposed your white teeth while a hand flipped your hair over your shoulder. He wondered how a dumbass like Emily was able to get you.

Emily's head shot back in your direction when she heard coughing, only to find out it was you, your face now going red as you choked on your drink, your friend, who Emily now realised she knew from when you dated, rubbing your back. Oh no... When the coughing stopped, you immediately looked back at her, confirming your suspicions. She returned your eye contact, awkwardly waving at you before you were suddenly facing away from her, refusing for the interaction to continue, earning a sympathetic look from your friend.

Emily heard a chorus of "Oof" and "Oh"s from the team, who were all cringing at the interaction. "Shut up." Emily groaned, stealing a shot from in front of Derek and downing it. She coughed twice, ignoring Derek's complaints, and turned to Spencer who was now telling them a statistic about exes. "It was actually found that 44% of Americans get back with their exes at some point after breaking up. And that only includes relationships post-break up instead of one night stands, so I'd say your chances are pretty high."

As much as Emily was unimpressed that Reid was giving her dating advice, she found herself walking up to you the minute your friend left, leaving you alone at the bar. Better me than anyone else shooting their shot, she thought. It was only when she stood right next to you that she realised she had no idea what to say and that the entire team was probably watching their interaction. She cleared her throat, muttering a small "Hey." You jumped slightly, rotating on the bar stool to face your ex-girlfriend. Emily expect you to frown, thrown your drink in her face even, but to her shock, you cracked a small smile at her. "Hey Em". "Can I sit?" She asked, shifting her weight from one leg to another.

You nodded, watching her as she sat. She looked different. She had cut her hair into bangs and wore her hair pin straight instead of the loose curls she'd put them in. She wore a low cut black top with black jeans as well as her go to combat boots. You assumed she came here straight from work. When you looked back up at her face, she was still staring at you, her gaze stuck on your thighs. "Um, can I get you a drink or something?" Her head shot up and she shook it "No, I've had enough to drink. Thanks." A long awkward silence followed and you looked over at the table she had come from, watching as all of her friends' heads shot in the opposite direction apart from one of them, still cluelessly observing you.

"I'm sorry - I shouldn't have-" "No!" You cut her off, cheeks going rosy. "Why don't we go for a walk or something?"

That walk led you both to the side of the road, waiting for a taxi as you made small talk, no discussion of going to either of your apartments until you were both sat in the back of the taxi on the way to your flat. Emily's hand rested on your thigh, both of your sides pressed against each other, faces mere inches apart as her free hand snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to her. You felt your desire for Emily grow, squeezing your thighs together to get any amount of friction.

Emily's eyes caught the movement, smiling slightly as she felt her own core heat up for you. She leaned towards you to look out of the window, pressing her tits up against you as she tried to see how far away you were from the apartment, making small talk while you waited. The second the taxi driver pulled the car over, she was tossing her money at him and following you out of the car, both her hands resting on your hips as you led her into your fancy building and towards the elevator. The second you were in the elevator, pressing the button to the right floor, her hands were wrapping around your waist and she was pressing her lips against the soft skin of your neck.

You grabbed her hand when the elevator doors opened, leading the way to your apartment and frantically opening and shutting the door before you turned around, throwing yourself into Emily's arms. You slammed your lips onto hers, wrapping your arms around her neck as you pressed your body against hers. Her hands were immediately under the skirt of your dress, groping the fat of your ass in her hands. You pulled away from the kiss, muttering "couch" to Emily, who complied, bending down slightly so she could wrap her arms around the back of your legs and picking you up.

You squealed as she walked you over to your big couch, having forgotten about her FBI agent strength. She dropped you on the couch, crawling over you but you pushed her back so she fell flat on her back on the large couch, throwing a leg over her hips to straddle her. She tried sitting up but you pushed her back, kissing her again so she would give in, letting you take control of the kiss. Her hands trailed up your body until they reached your tits and she tugged at the front of your dress, letting them spill out the front of it. You gasped, and she took your shock to her advantage, throwing her hips up into yours and rolling over so she was on top of you.

Her hands were instantly on your tits, pulling and twisting at your nipple, the other one in her mouth. "Em, Emily!" You begged, trying to grind your hips into hers but she wouldn't listen, taking her time kissing all over your body. When she couldn't reach any more skin due to the fabric of your dress, she fully separated from you, ordering you to turn around so she could undo the zipper. So you got up onto your knees, allowing Emily to undo your dress and pull it above your head, before her hands were wandering again, down your stomach and into the skimpy panties you wore.

She moaned into your ear, feeling how wet you were before both her hands were at your hips again and she was tugging you towards her as she fell backwards, landing you in her laps. She welcomed your kisses, tightly gripping your hips as you ground your cunt on her jean-clad skin. Eventually, you got desperate, tugging her shirt up so you could feel underneath it, hungrily reaching for her tits. At your whine, she finishes the job for you, tossing her shirt somewhere in the room before your hands were back behind her, unclasping her bra.

Before you manage to throw yourself onto Emily even further, you feel her hand under your panties, immediately searching for your clit, which she finds in mere seconds. You hear yourself begging for her, struggling to hold yourself above her. Emily's hands manhandle you so your back in pressed against hers, your legs spread in front of you. Her hands begin wandering once more, and she inserts two fingers into your warm core. You cry out, arching your back as Emily continues to suck hickeys onto your neck.

Her unoccupied hand plays with your tits, alternating which one she massages. Your head rests in the crook of her next, trying not to buck your hips into her hand as she continues fingering you. Your chest heaves with each breath you take, and you're too far into pleasure land to think of how much of a mistake you were making. You feel the familiar knot building up in your stomach and whimper, your hands reaching below you to grasp Emily's thigh. Moaning loudly with an arch of your back, you cum on Emily's hand. Emily, who is whispering praises in your ear and brushing your hair out of your face with her free hand.

With the effects of your orgasm now gone and you catching your breath, you begin to internally cringe. Why on earth did you think this was a good idea? You will yourself to turn around in Emily's arms, whispering "Your turn", fully aware that she wouldn't say yes. "No baby, it's okay. This is just about you." You nod, allowing yourself to fall onto the couch beside her. "I'm gonna go get cleaned up." Dragging yourself up from the couch, your legs still shaking, you shut the bathroom door before Emily gets the time to follow you.

You wrap a free towel around your torso, mentally cussing yourself out, thinking of a way to get Emily out of your house. The clock on the wall reads 3:28. It's late. You should go home. Repeating the words to yourself, you open the bathroom door to be met with the tall brunette. She smiles widely, a hand coming to your hip to bring you close and kiss you softly. You return her kiss but can't bring yourself to do the same with a smile. She senses the change in your behaviour and you take that as your chance to tell her: "It's late. You should go." You look down and away from her face so you can't see the way her smile drops. "Right. Um, this was fun." Your hum is enough of an answer to her and you practically chase her to the door once she's fully clothed.

Once the door is shut behind her, you peek through the peep hole to see her bring a hand up to her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. She calls someone on the phone, someone you can only imagine was at the table with her at the bar. Listening closely through the door, you hear "No Derek, I did not win her heart back. She's really done with me."

But it's late. You should go sleep.

[annwrites]

⸻ farmhouse living room

· pairing: shane walsh x fem!reader · type: part of a series · summary: the group debates what is to be done with randall. shane is the only one interested in your opinion. dale is sure you'll agree with him. · word count: 1,687 · a/n: in this version of events, shane & andrea have never had sex. & while i think her feelings toward him only really manifested after that afternoon in the front seat of his car, i've implied in this that she has a thing for him anyway.

Shane looks at you then. “Y/N-baby, been awful quiet. Like to hear your thoughts on it.”

Dale speaks before you can. Not that you want to. You don’t entirely like being made the sudden center-of-attention to begin with anyway.

“Well, obviously, she agrees with me. She’d never advocate for cold-blooded murder like this.” He looks at you. “Right?”

You shift from one foot to the other. You look at Daryl then. “You’ve spent more time with him in the barn than most of us. What, exactly, has he said to you?”

Daryl glances from you, to Dale, to Shane, then to the floor. “Told me this one story, ‘bout the guys he was with. How this one night they came across this camp—a dad and his two daughters. ‘Real cute-like’ was how he described ‘em. Said the other guys took turns, made the dad watch. That they didn’t even bother to kill ‘em after. ‘Course he told me that ‘he isn’t like that’. It was just somethin’ in the way he talked about it. Like…I don’t know. Like he got off on it, or somethin’. Made me wanna put an arrow through his skull.”

Your stomach turns. You’re quiet for a moment, glancing to Shane, then you look at Dale. “I understand his standing by as witness. I’m sure if he’d so much as tried to stop them, they would’ve killed him. It was self-preservation. He’d be dead and…they still would’ve done it anyway. But to talk about it in the manner Daryl described…”

You shake your head, and cross your arms. “To describe those girls like that…it’s clear what kind of man he is. If he’d shown any amount of remorse, I’d feel differently. So I agree with Shane.”

Shane gives you a small smile, standing up a bit straighter.

Dale looks absolutely flabbergasted. “I can’t believe I’m getting out-voted over something so…so—”

Shane cuts him off, shifting his weight from one hip to the other.

When he speaks, he keeps his eyes on you all the while. “If I ever saw that bastard near her,” he nods his head in your direction. “I’d drop ‘em several times over. I ain’t about to take any risks over the woman I…”

He pauses for just a moment. The two of you had said it a handful of times so far. And only after the first time you’d had sex. That warm, perfect day far away from the farmhouse. Far from the rest of the camp.

He’d taken your virginity, just like he’d offered to, and in that moment, with him sheathed inside of you, whispering sweet nothings against your ear as he made love to you so painstakingly slowly…something shifted. And the both of you could no longer deny that something more—some invisible bond—was binding the two of you. Had been all along since he saved you from staying back at the quarry.

But the two of you had agreed to keep your new, blossoming relationship just between you. To keep moments of true, physical intimacy either in his tent, or in that field you returned to time and again to feel your bare skin upon one another.

You didn’t need to risk someone sticking their nose in your business and trying to come between you—trying to ruin what you’d just found; just formed, and were slowly building.

You’d both lost enough. You weren’t about to lose one another, too. Especially after Shane had put forward so much effort in saving you over and over again. In taking care of, and protecting, and providing for you without asking for anything in return, but for you to finally try and live. For him, if nothing else.

You both knew people in the camp suspected.

Shane was gradually, as time went on, trying less and less to hide it. He’d give you a quick kiss on the cheek or top of your head here or there, whisper something in your ear—both of you pulling away from the other laughing—or giving each other lustful looks, heat pooling between your thighs as he told you the things he’d been thinking about doing to you all day. Or, you’d serve him lunch, him even once pulling you into his lap when it was late and half your people were gathered around the campfire chatting or eating.

Lori had cornered you one day in the kitchen about it. You’d just finished helping Maggie tend to the garden—pulling weeds and harvesting the fruits and vegetables that were ready to be eaten—and were washing off, and cutting up, and preserving when she’d come inside, seeking you out.

She’d asked Maggie if she would please give the two of you a moment alone, which she had of course obliged.

And then she’d asked if something were going on between you and Shane, and what it was, exactly, at that.

You’d remained quiet for a moment, setting some tomatoes in a bowl to begin drying off before you’d simply shrugged and said how you didn’t see it being anyone’s business but yours and his.

She gently grabbed your arm, turning you around toward her, the look on her face one of pure concern. “Honey, I don’t think you understand the kind of man he is. What he’s done, and-”

You’d promptly crossed your arms over your chest. “We’ve talked at length about the things he’s done. And even if none of them had anything to do with me, I still granted him my forgiveness when he asked me for it, because it was that important to him that he have it.”

She’d been left speechless for a moment. Long enough that you’d turned back around to begin scrubbing the potatoes of the dirt and soil they were covered in.

“Y/N, you’re young. And Shane is…he knows what he’s doing. He’s been with plenty of women before. Whereas you’ve-”

“Like you?”

She had shut her mouth instantly. “If you think this is jealousy, it isn’t. I’m just trying to look out for you; trying to prevent him from taking advantage of your youth, or your vulnerability. You don’t have anyone left to do that for you anymore.”

“Except him. He’s the only one who bothered to save me time and again when all I wanted—more than anything—was to give up and die. He refused to let that happen. I wouldn’t be standing here listening to someone else lecture me on how they know better than I do without him.” You’d turned back around then, bowl of tomatoes held between your arms. “I need to get these to Patricia, excuse me.”

Just as you were nearly out of the kitchen, you threw over your shoulder “Feel free to help if you have nothing better to do.”

You and Lori hadn’t spoken since that day. You had thought, after, that perhaps you’d been too harsh. You knew where her concern primarily stemmed from: the night in the library at the CDC. When Shane told you about it…you’d remained silent for a long while after, unsure of what to do. What to say. You felt afraid of him, even for a moment. The fact he could even think to do such a thing…to anyone—it didn’t matter that she had jilted him or not. It was inexcusable.

When you had looked at him, he’d been staring at you, his eyes red, and he’d told you he understood if you wanted him to stay away from you from now on. That maybe it was true: you deserved better.

You’d told him you didn’t want that, but that that action…it wasn’t for you to forgive. He’d nodded, understanding what you meant. He’d promised he would never hurt you like that, no matter what the future held.

You believed him.

Even Andrea had seemed a bit…jealous when she saw Shane so close to you nearly all the time now. Whenever he was in camp—he refused to let you go on runs unless it was with him, which typically translated to finding an abandoned house so you had a proper bed to have sex in—he was almost always pressed up against your side, his hands on your hips, your lower back, cupping your cheek, gripping your chin… A few times his hand had been high on your thigh, sometimes nearly touching you there—his way of silently asking to be alone with you for awhile.

She’d given you the cold shoulder for a couple days after she had once asked Shane if he wanted to go on a run and he had told her he didn’t intend to go out that day, but had then loaded you into his Hyundai later that afternoon, slipping a few small square wrappers into his pocket, adjusting himself over his pants, before climbing into the driver’s side and taking off from the farm like a bat out of hell.

Shane sighs for a moment, glancing down to his boots, then back up to you, silently asking for permission to finally give them all the truth you’re sure half of them are already well-aware of you.

You give him a small smile.

He continues. “I ain’t about to take any risks over the woman I love. I’ve almost lost her three times already. I ain’t about to let there be a fourth. I’ll put a bullet in his chest before that ever even comes close to happenin’. You can all bet your damn lives on that.”

You hear someone scoff, and you’re sure it’s Andrea, but you don’t care. Let them think what they wish. You were growing tired of people like Lori and Hershel treating Shane—someone who had kept the group alive and for so long—like the devil.

She had taken him for granted. Tossed him aside like he’d never mattered in the first place when Rick came back to her. You understood her reuniting with her previously-thought-dead husband, but to act like Shane had never been of any importance to start with? After all he’d done for her and Carl? After tearing himself apart, thinking his best friend was dead for all that time?

You wouldn’t be making that same mistake.

[pomogando]

Heeeyyyy! Im hear to request hope you dont mind :33

Maybe phighters reacting to platonic child!reader who is a troublemaker and likes to annoy people?

(fluff) and some headcannons about em?

Take the time you need by the way!I won't force ya!

Phighters x Troublemaker Child!reader

Platonic, no warnings, I choose some random characters, if you want others just ask!

You have probably been seen wandering around matches before. You usually messed with anyone who was preparing for their debut. Though a game warden would routinely kick you out, you always managed to sneak back in somehow. You just wanted to have some fun, and that fun might make other people annoyed.

Katana is the most patient with you out of all of the phighters. He gives you one word responses and doesn't usually entertain your nonsense. Something that annoyed you pretty bad

You tried to test your luck by quietly pulling his mask off from behind but he quickly grabbed your hands without looking. He gave you a glare from behind his mask as you scattered.

.. needless to say, it scared you badly. You took him off your list of targets, not wanting to push your luck. You gave a nervous apology which he only nodded at making you huff, but maybe you deserved it.

After a while of keeping your distance you started to slowly pester him with questions. Without you realizing your conversations became more genuine. He was an old guy, sure, but he was more interesting than you expected. You wouldn't even notice when you started coming by just to talk to him instead of messing with your other targets.

"It would be best for you to simmer down, not everyone is as patient as I am."

...

Subspace can't tolerate you for a single second. He's never been a fan of kids, and you're solidifying that belief for him.

It's not like you're making it easy for him, you poke fun at everything he does. He's the easiest to rile up and that keeps you coming back. He's especially annoyed when you try to mess with his Biografts. (which he'll claim you were trying to break for the record!!!) If it's not that you're making fun of his gas mask, his horns, his gear, his specially tailored outfit, (that you can't afford mind you) he can't stand it.

He's always the first to report you to the game hosts and/or Banhammer. Banhammer thinks it's hilarious, but you have to be careful if the hosts actually pay attention to his constant complaints for once.

"How DARE you- Hasn't anyone ever taught you little BRAT to respect your elders?!?"

...

Rocket, considering his background, is by all accounts a hypocrite. He was probably worse than you at your age if we're being honest.

He'd probably start off incredibly annoyed by you, then he's tolerating, then you're both inseparable. His favorite thing to do is give you someone to mess with, laughing audibly after they scold you or stomp off in anger.

It turns into a symbiotic relationship, you bother whoever he wants, and in turn he gives you snacks and other treats. It's beneficial for both of you.

When you're not working together, he may talk to you before a match starts, cleaning his weapon while telling you the latest gossip. He'd never admit that he got attached to you, slowly seeing you as a younger sibling.

"Hey, you see that guy over there with the stupid blue headband? Ruin his day and i have 20 buxs with your name on it..."

...

Sword doesn't mind you too much at first. Sure, it's annoying when you mess with him, but it's not something he can't handle. Though, when you move on to other people is when he steps in. Being raised by Venomshank left him with a strict moral code, whether you listen or not is up for debate, but you're usually too annoyed at the end of his speeches to bother anyone else.

He ends up following you around and preventing you from getting into trouble the best he can.. which isn't amazing. Usually apologizing to whoever you manage to piss off. Rocket thinks it's hilarious. He's your unofficial babysitter.

"H-hey! Get back here! You're gonna get yourself hurt!"

[danikamariewrites]

can i please request azriel x reader who is a brilliant inventor, she is groundbreakingly smart and she comes up with solutions quicker than anyone. She is very known and well-respected for her quick mind through all the courts and lords and courts try to recruit her for reader to be in their courts. She invents the best inventions like:

- a magical mirror that allows users to glimpse other courts and realms during the annual Starfall event, providing a unique and enchanting view of the world beyond their own.

- Enchanted gemstones that can regulate temperature and create pleasant, cool microclimates within Summer Court, making the sweltering summer season more bearable.

- Quills imbued with the magic of the Night Court, which write in a language only decipherable by those who have undergone the Night Court’s trials, ensuring secret communication.

- Cloaks made from enchanted materials that can protect wearers from various magical and physical threats in the dangerous world of Prythian.

- Mechanical attachments for Illyrian warriors that temporarily enhance their flying abilities, allowing for greater maneuverability and speed during aerial combat.

she makes personal devices for the ic aswell. like gauntlets to help enhance hand-to-hand combat or magical swords, and so on❤️❤️ i’m a woman in stem so this is just amazing idead fr

Inventor 

Azriel x reader

A/n: omg anon ur brain is insane, like this is such a good idea!

Warnings: none

Walking in the house Azriel heard you humming from work room. He smiled to himself as he framed the door open. You were sat at your desk working on your latest invention.

Azriel loved your brain. It is a vast, endless sea of ideas and knowledge. Each creation a new unique wave flowing from you. You grew up on the continent and attended a school that encouraged creativity. Once you moved to the Night Court you made a name for yourself.

Every court wanted you to solve their problems or help create something for agriculture or to consult on new medical technology. And of course you’d help. You’d never want anyone to suffer. Once you told Azriel that inventing things to help people, big or small, made you unbelievably happy.

Azriel walked up behind you placing a kiss on the back of your head. You turn to face him and Az jumps, not expecting your giant magnified eyes. Removing your goggles you smile up at your mate. “Hi babe, how was your day?”

“It was good. What are you working?” He asks looking down at what you are currently tinkering on. “Oh, it’s a small light for Nesta. It can attach to her book so she can read in bed without bother Cassian.” You said with a giggle. Azriel rolled his eyes at his brothers childish complaints.

“If this one works I’m going to make ones for Gwyn and Em too. This is the third prototype, I can’t seem to get the button right so fingers crossed it works.” You pick up the small light and click the button.

The small, but bright light illuminates your work space. Your lips break out into a wide grin. As you hold up the light Azriel smiles at you. “That’s amazing my love! Excellent job, Nesta is going to love it.”

Turning it off you set the book light down. “I’m going to get a box for this, will you fly me to the House of Wind so I can give it to Nes?” “Of course love. I’ll wait here for you.” You kissed his cheek and hurried out of your work room.

He looked around in awe of everything hanging or on shelves in the room. Azriel always prided himself on knowing what was knew or what you made improvements on. It was a fun game for him.

Your voice broke him from his thoughts as you tugged him out of the room. Your excitement to deliver something so small to your friend infectious.

[thelastofhyde]

spring break.

pairing. joel miller x fem!reader

synopsis. joel miller knows how to take advantage of being tommy's brother- aka he skips out on patrol to fuck you.

warnings. no use of y/n, pwp, established relationship, jackson!joel, teacher!reader, smut ( softdom!joel, unprotected piv, creampie, hair pulling, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, ig a little bit of breath play/suffocation??, implied cum eating/cumplay/cunnilingus )

word count. 841

hyde’s input. have this porn with plot as an apology for the fact i've still not posted chapter three of psecds.

read on ao3.

joel miller is late for patrol.

as a matter of fact, he has no intention of showing up at all. because why on earth would he bother himself with mounting his horse, when he's got his girl spread on all fours?

"see, told ya he'd take a hint eventually."

all of him is warm- his skin on your skin, his breath on your neck. somewhere between your second and fourth orgasm, you've melted into the worn mattress of his bed, face burrowed in the earthy scents of his sweated-out sheets. he's followed you down, the heavy weight of his body the perfect blanket to comfort you from the world beyond joel's bedroom.

"tommy, he's uh- fuckin' christ darling, he's smart like that," he's barely thrusting at this point, hips as aching as the slow pace his pulsing cock ruts into you, each roll forcing your swollen clit to grind down onto the soaked sheets. "'s probably tellin' em all i'm sick or sumn."

and he is sick.

sick in the head, not even flinching as he went from pounding into your sopping cunt- one hand on your hip and the other tangled in your hair, pulling your back into the perfect arch- to shoving your face down and muffling your protests the second tommy's knocking began to ring through the house, too blinded by a hunger-filled lust to see the sense in your encouraging words to go with tommy, do your part for the community.

he'd not meant for things to go so off the rails, honestly. all he'd wanted was a peaceful moment to indulge in the privilege of waking up to you for once. no early patrols stealing him away, none of your teaching duties forcing him to wake up cold and alone. he pulled you closer, tightened his hold around your waist and nuzzled his face deeper into the crook of your neck.

"straight out of heaven, that's what you are," the squelching of your soaking pussy fills the cosy room, remnants of previous orgasms painting a mess between your sweaty, sticky bodies. "my guardian angel, my girl."

but moments like this are so rare as of late. the pair of you hardly get days to yourselves. hell, you barely get any hours to yourselves. between jackson and it's people's incessant need to hold community activities, and ellie running rampant around the house whilst joel's working on making a living space out of the garage for her, and the countless hours of working you both find yourselves caught up in, joel's lucky to get a few desperate moments of "bumpin' uglies" before passing out for the night.

so how could he not seize this opportunity- an ellie-free house for once, a later than usual patrol shift, the school closed for spring break- and get himself tangled up in you, pretty and pliant in your freshly awakened state?

"c'mon, pretty baby," he's a cruel torturer, his gentle coo in your ear contrasting the returning vigour to his thrusts. it's a wonder the windows have yet to fog up. "show me how grateful you are to take this cock and give me one more, yeah? just one, s'all i'm askin'."

just one, a part of you feels like he's lying.

every part of him knows he's lying.

but you do as he asks, always. your toes curl, your breathing stops, your walls flutter and squeeze and cream around his cock for a fifth time. joel fucks you through it, always, soft hands soothing your burning skin. a few deep, brutish thrusts later and he follows suit, warmth filling you as he spills his cum inside you.

searching for air, you twist your neck to the right and free yourself from the mattress below. joel takes this as an invite to plant a wet, sloppy kiss against your cheek, the untrimmed ends of his greying beard scratching your skin just right.

it's blissful, and worth it, even if it means joel's left the team down one pair of hands on the patrol.

joel peels himself off you with a pleasured sigh, your limbs stretching out the aches in your muscles, freed at last from joel's lustful attack.

"make me lunch," you don't bother posing it as a question. he'll do whatever your will is, no questions asked. that's just the kind of man he's become, has always been. "since you're playing hooky at your real job."

he grumbles something behind you, hands soothing over the back of your thighs. his curiousity must get the best of him, trailing those big capable hands of his up to the globes of your ass and stretching them apart. cold air meets your pussy as his cum seeps out your seam, a pearly white slipping down your folds. you wince in discomfort. joel groans in frustration.

"gimme a second, angel," a kiss lands on your spine. a couple more follow right after, traveling lower each time. "gotta get my own fill first."

his tongue is warm as he licks a stripe up your cunt.