#i was thinking about going back to writing commissions but it's not gonna make me enough money probably

[casual-eumetazoa]

The job search is sucking the soul out of me. I've started looking into various online gigs/work from home opportunities and it is a sea of slop that I'm drowning in. It pisses me off so much because like, I know I have valuable skills, I have two degrees, I speak three languages, and even after burnout I still have a decently functioning brain. I just have no idea how to apply any of it to a paid job -_-

I literally need like. 500$ a month to survive. That's it. I'd be fine doing 20 hours a week at minimum wage of my country. I just cannot find anything suitable for myself. I still have time to find something but jesus christ, it is exhausting.

[tsukasalover]

(credits to ssruis)

This song is the only thing keeping me going I do not play about mr showtime 😞 nothing ruined me (made my life better) the way this song did

(Sendn. Me songs to do this with in my ask box… sniffle…)

[dystopyx-blog]

Stuck in TWST without meds

and also they're yandere or something

@shironakuronatasa here you go pookie <3

Because everyone is different, I'm gonna be focusing on the meds I take and the things I experience! If you're inspired to write one of your own based on your types of meds, go for it! I'd love to see others' takes on this :3

I'm still writing in 2nd person, but you/mc is heavily based off of me!

(And if you still want a personalized one but don't want to write it, my commissions are open/hj)

Tw for one mention of suicidal ideation.

Imagine...

You don't quite have a clusterfuck of things going on in your head, but sometimes it can feel like it. Autism, Anxiety, depression, and ADD. Thankfully, you have access to medication, and they work well for you.

Although you can't keep the downward spiraling from the depression and anxiety away completely, it is far more manageable with your medication. You've found that when off them, you are far more prone to completely fall apart at even the slightest inconvenience. It feels like constant stormy waters, with stormclouds that only make the waves worse. But when on them, the storm disappears. Yes, the waves still get rocky and tip your boat from side to side, but you're emotionally stable enough to handle them.

Then the meds for your ADD. With them you have the razor sharp focus to not only take care of projects and work, but also to simply take care of yourself. When off of those, even simple tasks like taking out the trash can take hours, especially since you so easily forget steps, and will stop the chore in the middle, genuinely thinking it's complete.

But you have your meds, so you manage just fine.

Until you're sucked into Twisted Wonderland.

First of all, even if you had already taken the meds for anxiety/depression, there's not much they could do in the face of being transported and consequently trapped in a different dimension. But they do still help, and instead of bawling, you manage to keep a cool (enough) head and get yourself settled into Ramshackle.

But they don't last you long. They had built up in your system enough to last you a few days, but time and circumstances were not on your side.

Even though Grim is by no means an emotional support pet, and is by all means a little shit, he manages to push his pride aside when he can tell you really need it.

Especially the days where you wonder if death is what will bring you back home...

Grim will act as if he helps you for his own purposes, but he is genuinely there for you.

The others, however...

First of all, quite a few of them don't completely understand... you're extra sad and spacey, but you had some kind of magic to help with it back home, but you don't have them here, and without them you get... sad and spacey?

Riddle probably sees it as some pathetic excuse. It's not until after his overblot that his tune completely changes and he is giving you all the special treatment. Even if you mess up on purpose, even if it's something that really frustrates him, he'll justify it as you not knowing any better. Which is patronizing as hell.

Ace will use it to his advantage. Getting into trouble and having you take the brunt. And you play along with it, because, again, Riddle is treating you like an incompetent child, so you are all for raising Cain with Ace. What Ace really loves about this, though, is that it makes you more willing to hang out with him, and more likely to dislike Riddle.

I imagine Deuce has something going as well, though I don't quite know what, and neither does he. But he finds a kindred spirit in you. Study sessions with him are a MUST, and you share your different study and coping tactics, while he stares at your lovely face.

Trey relishes in caring for you. If you're having any kind of sudden increase in stress or sorrow, he is fucking there. He will scoop you up and take you to the kitchen and treat you with his home baked goodies right then and there. Same with your academics, if you need help with academics, it's to the kitchen for tutoring. And as bad as it is, he finds himself wishing you'd give in and lean on him completely.

Leona will also be there for you in depressive episodes. He sees how you always go to Grim when your upset, notices the little things that Grimm does that helps, and starts subtly using them whenever you're upset. Not even just if it's depression/anxiety related, if you're upset with him specifically he'll start purring in that low register that has your heart slowing. He'll rest his body on your chest as a weighted blanket. He'll let you pet him and comb through his hair. All until all you associate Leona with is safety and comfort–as you should from a mate.

Ruggie is SUCH a little meanie at first! Specifically regarding your ADD. Once he sees how much it genuinely upsets you, though, he'll back off. He does have a manipulative streak, though, and will use your anxiety against you. Any way he can get you to distrust others and seek him out is a good way.

Jack is one who does not fuckin understand at first, but once he does, he's supportive. He asks if there's anyway he can help and you offhandedly tell him about emotional support dogs, and he is locked on. He's embarrassed by it at first, of course, but he can tell how safe it makes you feel, and like Leona he is completely fucking for that. Though he won't just be emotional support, no, he'll be the guard dog chasing away anything that could possibly trigger you.

School is very difficult for you without your ADD meds. You can manage, but it is far more stressful and difficult than it needs to be. So, of course, you have those generously offering to help you–specifically Azul, who's more than willing to help... at a price, of course.

Floyd really likes when you daze off in class... When you're staring blankly, mind thinking about so many things except whatever the professor is droning on about. The way your eyes glaze over, the way you're so focused on whatever the fuck is going on in your head, the way your lips part ever so slightly... All your idle habits are endlessly entrancing to him. And, goes without saying, every single time you're especially depressed, he offers a good squeeze session.

Jade, the manipulative bastard, will purposely set you up for failure so that you feel like you need to go to him for help. Because lord knows Azul will make you pay for it, but not your good friend Jade. Plus, if you ever mention how hiking can help with mood, lord save your soul...

Jamil is such a DICK. He will be degrading you at every second, completely taking over whatever it is you try to do. Even if it has nothing to do with him. God, you remind him of Kalim, but at least you don't have the nerve to be so fucking happy all the time. A sick part of him likes when you're sad. You're less annoying when you're depressed, specifically, without little energy or motivation to do or be anything else. He'd happily take care of you then. He'll do whatever you need done. You'd probably do it wrong anyway.

Kalim feels so fucking seen and understood. He honestly felt like some kind of freak for so much of his life, but you... you're kinda like him! A lot sadder though. Your very existence brightens his life, so he's made it his mission to brighten yours. He also really can't stand it when you're with others. It's so obvious you two are meant for each other! He views your shared ADD symptoms as evidence of soulmateship.

Vil is another case of not fully understanding. You're making excuses. Until he takes it a bit too far, pushes even more than what you can handle, and you fully break down in front of him. You're so completely and utterly vulnerable in that moment. He doesn't know if it's a very dedicated manipulation tactic to get out of his nitpicking, but... he becomes a little more sympathetic with you. Vil recognizes that, for whatever reason, you do in fact seem to struggle more with certain things. And yet, despite that, you still try. You continue push yourself, even if what youre pushing towards is, by other people's standards, the norm/mediocrity/minimum. And in you he starts to see a bit of himself. Especially since, let's face it, with depression, anxiety, and add, it is very likely you relate more to Vil than you do Niege. He helps you, and in turn you help him, though you don't even realize it. Helping you be happier with yourself helps him be happy with himself. And he'll fucking slaughter anyone who takes you away from him.

Rook, like Vil, is easily able to recognize how much you not only struggle, but how much you try. And he finds that incredibly beautiful. Needless to say, he is often watching you. Everything you do is enchanting. He memorizes every. single. stim. and habit. Sometimes when you get frustrated, he just wants to scoop you up in his arms and shower you in kisses, but then you'd realize he broke into your room...

Epel will see how much you get pushed around, and takes it upon himself to defend you. He also sees a bit of himself in you. Sometimes he purposely waits around you, and at the first sign of trouble, he'll attack.

Sometimes you just get too fucking overstimulated and you need a break. And in those times, you've found Idia to be the best person to go to. You both started off pretty distant. You approached him, upset, and asked for a quiet place. You put in headphones and just laid down right there. The two of you just sat in silence, with headphones in, doing your own things, blocking out the world. And, oh, how Idia came to crave those moments. He began to depend on you for comfort, ans hoping that you would similarly come to depend on him. You're different from those other normies, you're the only one who gets him so please just stay with him! He will start to modify his room to be the perfect sensory room, the only place in the school you can go to fully regulate yourself. He starts going out with you, acting as if you're really helping him step out of his shell, when really he just wants to spend more time with you, and will continue to shy away from everyone else and hide behind you. This man desperately needs you to need him as desperately as he needs you.

You are so. Fucking. Cute. Malleus finds your every single quirk so fucking attractive. He doesnt like, however, seeing you so upset. So sad. And the kind of sad where he is helpless to help you. He also really doesn't like it when you're upset at yourself. Don't you realize you're perfect? And who cares if you're not good at any of the school stuff? Malleus doesn't. You don't need any of those skills anyway, with Malleus Draconia here to always take care of you.

if you want the rest of diasomnia or the secret character I subtly didn't include lmk

part two out now!!

[phyrestartr]

PR Stunt (Only, Right?) | Sukuna/M!Reader | Teaser!

#NSFW in full, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, Sukuna owns a body shop, reader is a performer, kinda meet cute, ABO dynamics, mpreg, yes there are always babies involved because i love dad sukuna, surprise baby, sukuna is a dickhead (what else is new), teaser not edited lmao

Note: This is just going to be a one-shot since it's already pretty much completed, just need to finish off the tail end and then go back and edit. Wanted a break from writing the other stories for a bit, so I hope you'll enjoy the full story when it's out

tags: @better-imagination-9 @better-imagination-9

“Did you sleep with (L. Name) (F. Name)?” 

The question caught Sukuna off guard; normally, Uraume didn't inquire into his personal life in regards to who he had and hadn't slept with. They were a friend, yes, but moreover they were the bookkeeper and helped with securing clients and arranging meetings–celebrities and their managers were fucks that Sukuna didn't like negotiating with. Best to leave the yapping to someone with a cooler head.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Sukuna asked as he rolled out from under the newest commissioned vehicle. 

Uraume walked to him, iPad in hand, and turned it to him, stone cold. 

Sukuna sat up straighter and squinted at the screen, annoyed. You’d probably just made up some salacious rumour and spread it throughout your friend circles; or worse, you wanted revenge on him for something he probably definitely did. In that case, Sukuna could somewhat understand. But still–

(Name) putting on weight? What’s happening to the former bombshell babe of Japan?!

Pregnant with a baby boy?! The secret's out!

(Name) returns to the stage after giving birth to a baby boy–but who is the father?

(Name) driving a Ryoumen Sukuna rescue vehicle?! Could he be the deadbeat dad we've been looking for?

Sukuna sucked his teeth after skimming over the article titles presented to him. 

“...No proof.” 

“Ah. Then please explain this,” Uraume requested, still polite as ever, as they flicked to an additional few images the scumbag paparazzi had caught of you. 

One was the car mentioned. Sukuna remembered it like it was yesterday–the joy of restoring a Porsche 911 back into its former glory was unmatched. You happily paid for all the parts and too often swung by to see the progress being made on the old thing. Obviously, Sukuna was more than happy to oblige. 

The next was of you holding a little nugget of a baby against your chest as you walked down a street in Shibuya. Nothing too damning, nothing too inspirational. 

But the last one–

“The fuck?” Sukuna mumbled as he snatched the iPad from Uraume’s hands and zoomed in on the now-toddler sitting with you in that damn Porsche, grinning brightly beside his mum while you ruffled his hair. His very, very pink hair. 

Sukuna took a breath while he thought. He didn't have to think too hard, though, not when he still dreamed about you and the short-lived fling between the two of you. 

“A Porsche 911, huh?” Sukuna grinned as he looked over the beat up, rusted beater of a car. He could still see scraps of its former glory, of the beautiful thing she used to be. Heaven knows she would've become an irreparable hunk of junk if you hadn't bought it from a scrapyard. 

“Yep.” You beamed. “So you think you can make her pretty again?” 

“You kidding? I'd pay you to let me fix this thing, baby.” Sukuna caught sight of your security stepping forward, but you waved them off without a second thought. 

Sukuna smirked. “But it’s not gonna be cheap.” 

You nodded. “Well, do what you have to. I'll pay whatever you need, handsome.” 

“Yeah?” Sukuna asked, looking your neatly-manicured appearance up and down; you were dressed like you were meeting someone of great importance (and  you were, obviously), with your hair groomed perfectly, outfit fit for a premiere, skin flawless. 

“Mhm. And I tip well.” you looked him up and down in kind, grinning as you bit at the nub of your sunglasses.

“Done.” 

Every time you came to check on his progress, genuine excitement flooding in your motormouthed Words, you'd go home with him and fuck him silly. 

And now, you were the momma to his baby. Allegedly. 

“I–so what the fuck does this have to do with anything?” Sukuna ran a frustrated hand through his hair after Uraume took the tablet back. “Bitch isn't asking for anything, he's not asking me to be his public fucking baby daddy, not asking me to pay for nothing?” 

“No,” Uraume conceded, “But he and his PR managers have reached out concerning this.” 

The man groaned and stood. “Fucking hell. Can't stand fucking PR teams. Thw fuck did they want?” 

“They want to make a statement about Touma's father.” 

Sukuna froze.

“Touma's a good name for a boy, right?” 

You asked the question so suddenly, so out of nowhere in the quiet of the afterglow. The city lights sparkled and winked at you both through the towering windows keeping you safe from the outside world. In hindsight, Sukuna would wonder if the city was excited for him. For you. 

“What, for a mutt?” Sukuna drawled, puffing on a blunt while he played with your hair and drowned in the tingles left in the wake of fingers drawing circles on his bare chest. 

“For a kid,” you chastised With a laugh. “I like Touma. Or Touka for a girl. Ayato's nice, too. Maybe Kazue.” 

“You better not be pregnant.”

“I'm not, I'm not. I'm just getting baby fever, I guess.” You hummed and left a sweet kiss against his tan skin. “I guess being around a big, bad boy like you's got me feeling domestic.” 

Sukuna laughed, dazed and happy. “You wanna ruin this pretty lil’ body for a fucking kid? Be my guest. Just don't come looking for a booty call after you've ruined yourself like that.” 

“Oh, don't worry,” you cooed. “I won't.” 

Man. Man. 

“A statement.” 

“In other words–”

“I'm not the fucking father.” 

“This might be a good way to get Yorozu off your case,” Uraume suggested, and Sukuna perked up. 

“Right. She fuckin’ hates kids.” 

“So, if you were to have a son, and it's revealed you've been quietly trying to make things work behind the scenes with (Name), then hypothetically–”

“I'll take the runt.”

[luveline]

Hi jade, I have a hurt/comfort request for Steve, maybe reader was there with the party for all the vecna stuff and maybe gets hurt, afterwards Steve taking care of her and staying w her in the hospital and stuff? Love your writing!

thank you for requesting <3 fem!reader

“Did you know there’s like, a concessions stand?” 

You moan at the pain between your shoulders, turning onto your arm. Steve lounges in the chair beside you with a paper plate of donuts on his chest. His legs are kicked up on your bed. He’s taken his shoes off, at least. 

“Free donuts, coffee, they even had flapjacks.” 

“Steve, I think you have to pay for those.” 

He puts the plate on your bed. “Well, they can’t send you to jail.” 

“‘Cos my back’s broken?” 

“‘Cos you’re too pretty for prison.” Steve sits up properly. “You need help?” 

He moves the donuts again onto your nightstand and hooks you under the arms to ease you into a sitting position. You’re back isn’t broken, for the record, but you fell funny coming out of the gate a few days ago and you haven’t bounced back yet. Worse, you've got an infected burn on your hand, wrist and arm from your Molotov cocktail. It’s out of commission, as are you while they pump antibiotics into the crook of your elbow. Steve’s careful not to tug your IV. 

You gasp, the twinge in your back turning to flame. “I know,” Steve murmurs, shockingly sincere, “I’m sorry. You’re not supposed to lie down all the time, or it won’t get better.” 

“I know.” 

“Yeah, of course you do. You know everything.” 

Insult or compliment, you’re unsure. What you do know is that Steve’s come to see you every day since you were checked in, he’s the one who checked you in, and he’s taken good care of you so far. He’s not even your boyfriend, you thought he liked Nancy— but he’s rubbing his hands down your shoulders and looking you in your face despite the horror he’s sure to be witnessing. Bruised eye, greasy nose, hair thankfully clean but completely untouched otherwise. 

“Better?” he asks, cupping your cheek. 

Is he gonna kiss me? you think. You glance down at his lips, then back up. Steve doesn’t notice or doesn’t mention it, his fingers drawing a gentle path behind your ear as his thumb aligns with your jaw. 

“Hey, don’t cry.” 

You shake your head. “No, I’m not.”

“Sorry, you just looked so sad for a second.” He laughs wryly. Though you don’t feel like he’s making fun of you, he teases, “Cheer up. What have you got to be so sad about?” 

“You keep harassing me.” 

“Oh, that’s how it is!” He tips his head back. “Nurse! I’d like to report a thief!” 

You gasp, laugh, and attempt to cover his mouth as strikes of pain nibble up your spine. “Steve, don’t–” He catches your hands to stop you from silencing him, but he doesn’t shout again, holding your hands together in his lap, smiling smugly and affectionately at once. He has nice eyes that are almost almond in shape and a lovely light brown. They glow in the slither of light that sneaks its way through the blinds, raw amber, stomach-achingly pretty. 

You can’t look at him for too long. You defer to your hands scrunched up in the sheets instead. 

“I did pay for the donuts, by the way. I’m just messing with you.” 

You try to laugh. “Why doesn't that surprise me?” 

“You act like I’m such a jerk,” he says fondly, pulling you in for a cautious hug. He’s tender when he needs to be, you’d never have thought it of him, how sweetly and softly he rubs your back, how he murmurs near your ear. “Do you need more meds? I’m sure they can get you another dose of the good stuff if you pretend your gummy arm is aching.” 

“Thanks, Steve, but I’m fine.” 

He hums. “Think I can get them to let me stay the night?” 

“Steve, I’m really okay.” 

“It’s not about you, I just don’t wanna go home,” he lies poorly, “they don’t have donuts at home–”

His hand leaves your back. “Are you eating over my shoulder?” you ask. 

He hugs you tighter with the remaining arm. “What? No.” 

You feel sprinkles falling down your back and ignore it for now. He’ll have to help you out of bed in a few minutes anyways. He can sort it out then. For now, you lean into his chest and close your eyes tight. 

“I’ll sleep better in the chair by your bed,” he promises. 

[thatdeadaquarius]

Hello there, friend I'm here for fluff

OK, this has been on my mind for a while

But like

The reader is just becoming the biggest parent to the Benny's adventure team kids

And the wolfs

We are like a parent of like 27

Knitting and making food brushing razors hair(let's be for real, you would hear a crunch when you brush it)

I'm not gonna lie

Do these kids know what spices are?

Cuz when I think about it

Razor hasn't had shit so he's has the least tolerance for spice

He would probably cry if you feed him a pepper

Bennett has tried spicy food but does go well with it

And not completely sure if fischl has had a spicy food before

But what flavor does mondstadt add to their food??

These kids need the damn flavors

AHDHAKALL FERAL ANIMAL AQUARIUS- ANOTHER PLATONIC ASK AAHHHHGGGGDJJSFHSAK!!!!!

AND ITS YOU!! ITS- ITS- ONE OF THE WRITING RULERS OF SAGAU (FOR ME AT LEAST) <3 !!!!!!!!

You cooking in genshin all anime studio ghibli style looking like food from god (literally): ⬆️

Sun: Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: Benny’s Adventure Team! (Bennett, Fischl, Razor), Diluc, mentions of other Mond characters

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cussing, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

^^ The posts being referenced in ask, (OG Razor ask) (Benny + Razor) and a more direct sequel, a part 2? a part 4 atp?? of this post (Imposter/Not Dark AU + Razor + Diluc) ^^

OMFG

ALRIGHT LISTEN UP BITCHES

SINCE UR IN TEYVAT

YOU GONNA COOK LIKE TEYVAT

AS IN-

SHIT BE SUPER EASY TO COOK, AND MASS MAKE DEPENDING ON COMPLEXITY OF DISH

(So, like Zhongli's special Bamboo Shoot Soup is like getting made... once a year if you read the little desc. for that dish 💀)

AND THEYRE ALL LIKE-

ANIME GORGEOUS FOODS ✨️❤️‍🔥

OKAY SO

PROMO TIME-

U GUYS HAVE TO WATCH THE ANIME "CAMPFIRE COOKING IN ANOTHER WORLD"

Bc that's mostly where this inspo gonna come from to both be realistic cooking + best parts of video game cooking

A guy gets isekai’d and instead of hero powers he just gets the skill of "online grocery shopping" LMAO

and ofc he gets insta gifted whatever he orders and starts making dishes and adding spices and regular stuff you know. like soy sauce.

but the best part is the food in that world is like British medieval soup shit

like barely salted, no spices definitely, no sauces, its barren

so he ends up attracting all kinds of interest that want to eat his cooking ofc

And it gives buffs too!

dw i didnt spoil anything u don't learn in the first episode, but that's just to say that's exactly whats happening here

u DO have to manually collect more ingredients but its so worth it, also u can just buy in bulk or put a commission thru the adventurer guild

tbhhh now that i say that, that could be how u end up drawing in Benny’s Adventure Team even more, bc they just take all ur quests for collecting ingredients around Mond!!

(u have to actively sneak behind their back and whisper to Katheryne that you want to put in other food quests in other guilds tho, silly kids will absolutely go running around Liyue and crazy shit just to have an adventure and do smth for you + eat ur banger food lol)

omfg the first time u barbecue smth???

the wolves, Razor, and Andrius??? Go feral.

Fischl and Benny who were already on their way to u guys to hang out again start booking it thru the woods, dodging hilichurl camps (thatve since settled down and been v peaceful to the wolves + anyone in the woods of Wolvendom after u started living there)

they knowww ur cookin smth fucking amazing

(and u even have some hilichurls and mitachurl that wander close to Andrius’ edge of the woods to shyly beg for scraps,, u give them a portion)

Razor was actually lookin at u like u hung the stars just for him when u gave him a homemade barbecue sauce to put on his food

(u acc may have done that to Teyvatians according to Andrius + the stories u overheard from Springvale…)

ok but the amount of begging u get for desserts like-

No, Razor u cannot have chocolate cake/cupcakes after every meal, u need to take care of ur teeth

(u use ur collection of mora-monster-donations for comms for more ingredients and living supplies like fabric + furniture, u cant afford dental on top of that for ur boy)

Fischl dutifully declares you the “best chef in the kingdom” and writes down all ur recipes (u have them auto-stored in ur settings obv but it cant hurt to have a physical copy, and they look so happy doing it, u don't have the heart to tell them its not necessary-)

Benny insists on both giving u extra ingredients when he takes ur commissions, and giving u handmade trinkets or weapons for the meals!!

No!! He will not take “im good” for an answer!! ur sharing ur home-cave with him, taking care of his best friend Razor, and now feeding him food better than Liuli Pavilion!!! There’s no way he can just take all that and give nothing back!!!!

and theyre not the only ones getting some food tbh

when the knights begin patroling near Wolvendom and slowly all of Mondstadt to search for their “All God”, u break up the beginnings of a fight between 2 confused knights and the now peaceful hilichurl camp at the edge of Wolvendom

U offer some snacks u were going to give Benny’s Adventure Team when they got back (u made little triangle sandwiches, rice balls, etc. finger foods, and u made plenty extra bc u kno their teenage appetites lol)

the knights and hilichurls nearly cried with appreciation, which made for a hilarious sight when the teens actually showed up lmao

ur wearing ur cloak, bc u dont wanna take on that whole “creator of worlds” title just yet, and the kids helped verify u werent anyone suspicious (Benny + Fischl keep ur godly secret, theyre the best like that 🥰)

the knights just swing by for snacks occasionally (they also either pay u in trade or with mora, theyre not bullies)

another person who gets flavored food privileges is the lazy librarian witch herself

u also sometimes pick Razor up from Lisa’s tutoring and bring “the best tea and tea snacks in the world” along with to share with Lisa and him

(she is also fully aware after awhile of meeting u of what u are, and fully believes this is why the food must be enchanted to be so good, but u dont want to be treated super reverently she can tell, so she keeps ur secret too and is just extra flirty when u come by lol)

(Razor refuses to let his pare- Lupical move out of ur cozy cave to the library, so he sometimes hauls u away when Lisa flirts too much LMAO)

…and the moment you've been waiting for.

Yes, Diluc got to try ur food that night he was searching Wolvendom for signs of the god of Teyvat

tbh Diluc was half-convinced that shit was a fever dream.

a bunch of sleepy wolves, a coffee table in the stone colosseum, a giant spirit wolf licking a big plate clean, the wolf-kid glaring at him, and you.

you with gold eyes, staring right thru his soul, like you already know everything there is to know about him, (like the way Kaeya looked at him that night),

like he doesnt even have to introduce himself

and he doesnt, u just lightly smack Razor’s hands until he gets rid of his claymore w/a pout, since Diluc had long since dropped his,

and grab a plate, piling on what leftovers u could, and turn back around from the coffee table to smile at him, patting the cushion-seat beside u for him to join

The giant glowing wolf licks his lips and watches him, the wolf-kid’s creepily watches him, and you, with eyes gold in teh light of a simmering bonfire just past the table, watch him

he just sits down and begins to eat.

its the best food he’s ever had, its his dad’s favorite dish, but not realistically, but the way memory embellishes a dish so much it can never be tasted again, except its right here. in front of him. u pour some wolfhook juice for him, and offer him a napkin to wipe his mouth and eyes

Diluc visits often after that, obviously.

u give him snacks too, and when he lets the staff try some, Adeline will not stop harassing him abt gettin ur recipes/ingredeints so u get him to pay Fischl to get a copy of their recipe book :)

including blank pages for future entries, and Fischl is literally glowing with happiness, would not stop monologuing abt ur food for weeks (send help Oz wants some peace and quiet sometimes)

Oh Diluc absolutely told the Favonius knights he found you. But he’s not saying where LMAO

Jean is actually begging him, Diluc ik u hate the knights but this is an international investigation-

this is the closest Diluc has ever gotten to getting under Venti’s skin.

when he told him this at Angel’s while bartending, he just casually ofc said this, just his smug little smirk, and the anemo god cracked a glass and everything- esp when he said he tried ur cooking??

he's gotta start looking over his shoulder in the city bc not only is Venti stalking him, the entirety of Mondstadt’s citizens are glaring at him in envy everywhere he goes LMAOO

(Venti now has a bar glass or too on his tab to pay off as well)

mans is literally paying u in weapon/artifact materials/mora to make him lunch one day and Venti nearly lunges over the counter

(Diluc purposefully ate it in front of him 💀)

ur food is the ultimate, “u could make a religion out of this!” /ref

like Diluc fully gives u offerings of ingredients he can pay for shipping from other countries + along with regular materials after grinding in domains

does the rest of Mondstadt + the world find out where u are?

only if Diluc lets them tbh. LMFAO

☆

bk trashfire my beloved <3 love ur ideas and stuff, goes without even saying im so sorry i took actually forever to respond :’(

hope u have a great weekend and i did this little side story justice for you

Safe Travels BK Trashfire,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡my beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit / @chinuneko / @silvers-tongue

@kiyomi-uchiha777

[therealcocoshady]

Coco!! Just wanted to say THANK YOU for indulging another one of my requests and so QUICKLY too. I know you’re busy, busy and I really appreciate it! This was everything I ASKED for and more! Love me some sweet and sexy Marsh 🤍💪🏼🧘🏻‍♀️💦💋🌶️🥵🧸

Hope you enjoy a ☕️ or 2 on me! 😉

A/N : Hi bestie 🌟. Thank YOU for supporting me and being my first ever commission ❤️.

For those of you who didn’t know, you can support my writing by giving tips on my Ko-Fi account and I am now open for commissions as well 😏.

@shady-577 kindly allowed me to post the commission on this blog, too, to I hope y’all enjoy 🌟

Sweat Session

Marshall was a very healthy person and it showed. On your very first date, he’d told you about him trying to lead a healthy lifestyle by maintaining his sobriety, eating well and exercising and, two years into your relationship, he was more than consistent. You had recently moved in together and you got to see just how seriously he took it. And as he was getting ready to drop a new album, perform regularly again and do some promo, he started exercising even more. Not only it kept him fit, but it also helped him deal with his stress. He got up even earlier in the morning to hit the gym and, even though you enjoy the fruits of his labor (what with him being even more buff than before), you were a little grumpy not to have your man in bed with you when you woke up. And since he spent even more time at work, polishing the album and working on the promo, you didn’t see him as much as you liked, which made you a little frustrated.

- You know, you could hit the gym with me, he suggested with a smile when you told him about your annoyance. Might do some good.

- Is this a sneaky way of telling me I’ve gained weight ? You asked as you side-eyed him.

- What ? No ! He immediately said. I’m just saying it’s healthy to exercise. You could wake up a little earlier and join me in the gym.

- Or you could skip a day and stay in bed with me tomorrow morning, you suggested with a charming grin.

- Not happening, doll, he said with a smile. Need to be consistent.

- Fine, you groaned.

With the public appearances and photo shoots he had planned, as well as music videos to shoot, he wanted to look buff. At 51 years old, he didn’t want to be seen as some « aging rapper who let himself go ». And sure enough, the results were there. His chest was chesting and he had Twitter go feral over the outline of his pecs, clearly visible on the latest pics of him at Dre’s Walk of Fame ceremony.

The next day, you woke up to the sound of his alarm going off and let out a groan. He whispered an apology and kissed your forehead before going to the home gym in the basement. You tried to fall back to sleep but without your man by your side, the bed felt cold and empty. That’s when you decided enough was enough. You got up and put on a cute working out outfit, which looked more like underwear than clothes you could actually work out in, consisting of a bra and the tiniest shorts ever. Just enough fabric to highlight your figure and make your ass and breast pop out. When you got downstairs, you saw him working out on an incline bench, absorbed on what he was doing. He was wearing simple sweatpants and sneakers, not even bothering with a teeshirt. The view reminded you of how lucky you were. You looked at him from afar for a good while, him so focused that he didn’t even notice you standing there, practically drooling.

- Hi handsome, you said seductively. Mind if I join you ?

- You decided to get up after- he began. Jesus Christ…

- Yes ? You said innocently.

- You’re gonna work out in these ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

- You don’t like it ? You asked.

- I don’t think that’s enough fabric for me to critique, he hummed.

- Far be it from me to distract you, you said with a smile. Unless…

- I have to work out, babe, he said with a frown. But you’re welcome to join.

You shrugged. You’d been dating for a while but, clearly, he should know better than to assume you didn’t have more tricks up your sleeve. You kicked off your sneakers and grabbed a yoga mat, strategically placing it so that he’d have a good view. You started stretching, going from pose to pose. He kept on working out next to you, though you could see his gaze.

- Like what you see ? You hummed.

- Making sure you’re doing it right, he said with a grin.

- Sure, you giggled.

He got up while you were in downward facing dog and put a hand on your hip, helping you stretch your back a little.

- You know, these tiny shorts don’t hide much, he whispered in your ear. Especially not in this pose.

- Oh yeah ? You asked as you switched to a three-legged down dog that gave him an even better view.

- Fuck, he muttered under his breath.

You kept your flow going under his watchful eye, looking at you as if you were a snack.

- I think my flexibility is not too bad, you remarked.

- It’s really good, he mumbled. Really good.

- Thank you for correcting my posture, my love, you said innocently. Let me repay the favor and spot you.

He hummed and laid back on the inclined bench, grabbing some halters, working on his arms. You gently ran your hand on his biceps, feeling how much bigger they had gotten in the past weeks.

- So muscular, you said seductively. You are so strong…

- Am I ? He mused.

- And that chest, you continued. It’s all for the « Stan » shirt lift for your upcoming tour, isn’t it ?

He looked at you with a grin, knowing this particular move drove you absolutely crazy. You watched him exercise. He clearly didn’t need you to spot him, and you knew it, but this allowed you to stare. He sat back up and grabbed his water bottle, taking a big gulp. You were staring at each other with « fuck me eyes » and you could tell he was trying hard not to give in to the temptation.

- You’re awfully distracting, woman, he said.

- Maybe you need to take a little break, you suggested. I think it’s time you were shown some appreciation for all this hard work…

He smiled and playfully shook his head before taking another gulp of water. Some of it missed his mouth and trailed down his neck and chest. You stepped closer and ran your tongue on his neck, catching the iced liquid. He let out a groan, letting you know how pleasurable it was.

- Let’s not be wasteful with water, now, you said seductively. Oh, I think I missed some…

You proceeded to kiss his chest, catching the water with your mouth. You took advantage of the moment and placed a kiss on one of his pecs. He chuckled and pulled you to him so that you’d sit in his lap before kissing you passionately.

- You’re impossible, he hummed between kissed. I can’t focus.

- And you’re a fucking tease, you retorted as you kissed him back. I’m only human, you know ?

- I’ll give you teasing, he grinned.

With one movement of his knee, he had you spread your legs for him, before running his fingers on the inside of your thigh. You hummed in pleasure as his hand got dangerously close to your pussy, eventually cupping it over the thin fabric of your shorts, making you sigh in pleasure.

- Is this what you wanted ? He asked playfully.

- Yes, you whined.

There was nothing more you loved than to sit in his lap, his arms around you, free to run his hands across your body. He knew it and he happily obliged, keeping on teasing you over your clothes, cupping your breasts and grazing your nipples with his fingers. He freed one of your boobs from your sports bra and pinched the nipple, making you moan in pleasure. You automatically started grinding against his thigh, your body desperate for some release.

- Look at this, he chuckled. You don’t need me to take care of you. Looks like you’re doing it on your own.

- Please, you asked breathily. Marshall.

- Patience, love, he whispered in your ear before letting his hand go back to your pussy.

He played with you over the fabric, no doubt feeling how wet you were. His head was buried in your neck and you could feel his smile against your skin. You kept on moaning, desperate for more. Eventually, you took matters in your own hands and knelt between his legs. You decided to put him through the same misery and stroked his high through his sweatpants, going higher and higher with each motion. Even through the fabric, you could see his growing bulge. You looked up to him and saw that he was looking in the mirror across the room, admiring the view of you, kneeling for him.

- You’re so beautiful in this position,he said as he ran a hand through your hair.

- Keep enjoying the view, then, you suggested with a smirk.

You tugged at his sweats and he lifted his hips to allow you to lower them, eventually kicking his sneakers so that you’d remove the whole thing, along with his boxers. There was something about him, naked on the bench, his massive erection showing you how excited he was. You stroked his cock and gave it a few pumps before approaching your face.

- I could leave you like this, you mused. Like you’ve left me alone in our bed…

- Babe, no, he pleaded. Please.

You thoroughly enjoyed reversing the power dynamic. By the look he was giving you, you could tell that he was wrapped around your finger, eating in the palm of your hand. You gave him a mischievous grin and started licking the tip of his cock, earning sighs of pleasure in the process. You kept on stroking the length while kitten licking the head, knowing it drove him crazy, that he wanted nothing more than for you to take all of him in your mouth. Eventually, you did and he moaned loudly, still holding on to your hair. You kept on sucking him, hollowing your cheeks to pleasure him even more. You took as much as you could, making you drool all over his cock. You stared at him from below and saw he was bemused by the reflection of you sucking him in the mirror. You could feel him twitch inside of your mouth, a sign that he was about to come.

- Stop, he warned.

- You can come, you said as you kept on stroking him.

- Don’t want to, he said. Not yet.

He helped you get up and kissed you hungrily before undressing you. He sat back and pulled you so that you’d straddle his lap, giving him an opportunity to suck on your tits while grabbing a handful of your ass. He lined himself at your entrance and inserted himself, making you whimper. There it was. What you’d been craving. The sole sensation of him inside you was heavenly. His mouth traveled between your nipple and your neck, proving that he knew your sweet spots all too well.

- is this what you wanted ? He asked breathily.

- Yes, you whispered.

He started thrusting his hips slowly, making sure to bottom into you and hit your sweet spot. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him sloppily, dying to be close to him as ever. The making out was hotter than ever and you always wanted more, desperate for some release, knowing this man could make you come like no one else before him.

- Faster, you begged. Harder. Please.

He gave you a smirk and carried you to another bench that was slightly higher. He had you on your knees, ass up and face down and penetrated you roughly, making you scream before thrusting violently. He was going so fast that you had trouble catching your breath. But at the same time, it was so good, so hot to have him use you. His thrusts became slower again and he put your hair in a makeshift ponytail, forcing you to look in a mirror in front of you. You could see your faces twisting in pleasure. His gaze met yours and he gave you a smirk before quickening his pace. He closed his eyes and all hell broke loose. His hips moved faster than ever, hitting you deep. There was no doubt that you’d be sore for the following days but, in the instant, neither of you cared, lost in the pleasure. You moved your hips in sync, trying to keep up with him. You didn’t want it to end and, yet, you could feel you were both so close to climax. The coup de grâce came when he looped a hand around you to reach and rub your swollen clit, making you cry in ecstasy. You could feel your juices flowing, forming a puddle underneath you, in which you inevitably collapsed, Marshall on top of you.

The both of you stayed still and silent for a minute, taking the time to catch your breath. Marshall buried his head in the crook of your neck, placing a chaste kiss there that made you shiver.

- Are you alright, love ? He asked as he got up.

- Y-yes, you replied as you were still struggling to breathe properly.

He chuckled and got up with a grunt, grabbing a towel to clean you and a water bottle to help you hydrate. You let him clean you and sat up on the bench, taking a good look at his naked form. In spite of rocking a buzz cut, he still looked disheveled and insanely sexy.

- You’re so hot, you said lovingly.

- Is that why you jumped on me ? He asked with a smirk.

- Maybe, you giggled. Been missing you, lately.

He gave you a smile and wrapped you in his strong arms before kissing you.

- Missed you too, he said. But you do realize you’re the main reason I’m doing all of this for, don’t you ?

- Am I ? You mused.

- Of course, he hummed. When I’m making music, I think of how much I want you to be proud. And when I’m here… my main motivation is you. I want to look good for you. You’re always on my mind.

You cooed and kissed him tenderly. He was too adorable.

- Well, I am proud of you. And I do think you look incredible me you complimented. I’m proud to be yours.

- I love you, he said. How about a shower before you need to go to work ?

- Ok, you said with a pout.

You got up and he grabbed you by the waist before leading you out of the home gym.

- I like fucking you in here, he hummed. I can’t believe we waited so long for this, though.

- We’ll have to do it again, you said with a smile. I can think of a few creative ways to use that gym equipment.

- Oh believe me, next time I’m putting those resistance bands to good use, he chuckled. I guess it completes the tour of the house. We’ve officially done it in every room of the house.

- Does that make me a permanent resident ? You grinned.

- It does, he chortled.

- Oh no, there’s one room missing, though, you said.

He looked at you with a frown, knowing exactly where you were going with this. He sternly shook his head as he led you to the stairs.

- Nope, he said. Don’t even thing about it. We’re not doing it in the hope studio. I have rules.

- We’ll see, you grinned.

- I’m not going to cave in, he warned.

- You know I like a challenge, you said innocently. Besides… you love me. You wouldn’t be able to refuse.

He chuckled, failing to keep the annoyed look on his face. You knew he loved you being all needy, and that there was only so much charm offensive he could resist.

- We’ll see, he hummed before bringing your hand to his lips and then placing a loving kiss on your ring finger.

[joonie-beanie]

Side-Gig | [Peter B. Parker x Reader]

Pairing: Peter B. Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter gets worried about your apparent “side-gig” and goes snooping, only to discover your side-gig is writing Spiderman smut on commission.

Contents: Fluff, Smut, Consensual Sex, Pussy Eating, Banter, Friends to Lovers???

Author’s Note: I swore off posting fics on tumblr, but since this is just a one-shot, I figured why not. I think Peter B is charming, had to write a lil smth smth for him. And by that, I mean a 7.1k wordcount fic.

You and Peter Parker are friends. Not best friends, but pretty good friends. 

You like to say you’ve looked out for each other over the years. You don’t talk all the time, but it’s kind of an unspoken promise that when one of you needs someone to lean on, the other person will be there.

Which is why, when Peter and MJ separate, you make a point of inviting Peter over for meals. 

At first, he turns you down every time you ask, and you know it’s because he’s wallowing—depressed about his situation. And that’s understandable. You can’t exactly say you know what he’s feeling, but if you put yourself in his shoes, you’re sure you’d be a little bit fucked up about everything too.

Therefore, you give him a little space—wait for things to settle and for Peter to come around. 

Except, Peter takes it all way worse than you expect—going radio silent after your third invite in two months. Then, you really start to get worried (and also a little mad that he’s ghosting you).

So, you manage to scrounge up his new address using some internet-sleuthing skills, and show up at his door. When he opens it, he’s dressed in a greasy wife-beater, worn-out gray sweats, and white socks with a hole in the toe.

“Jesus Christ, Peter.”

You spend that evening scolding Peter and letting him cry it all out—handing him tissue after tissue as he blubbers about everything on his mind. When he’s finally done, he apologizes for ignoring your last call, and thanks you for looking out for him.

With a smile, you assure him you’ll always have his back, and that now he really has to come over for dinner, because he owes you.

Laughing, Peter agrees. And luckily, he sticks to his word.

Since then, you and Peter make a point of doing dinner twice a month—typically at your place, sometimes out at a restaurant, but never at Peter’s. Not until he deep cleans his messy apartment, and you know that won’t be happening anytime soon.

Tonight, you’re at a restaurant of your choice—a local Italian joint. Peter arrives late, per normal, and you wave him over when you see him walk in the front door. He immediately spots you and hurries over, his eyes darting to the plate of bruschetta you’d ordered for the table, that now only has two pieces left.

“Aw, that’s not fair,” he says, sliding into the booth across from you. He immediately reaches for one, shoving it into his mouth. You shrug, not sorry.

“That’s what you get for always being late. And if I waited for you, I’d be hangry by now. So really, you should be thanking me.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter says with a roll of his eyes, picking up the menu to see what it is he wants. 

“So, how have you been? I know we just saw each other two weeks ago, but—how’s work?”

You sigh at Peter’s question, resting your chin against your palm.

“Fine, I guess. Work is cutting hours since things are slow right now, so I’m gonna be pretty strapped for cash the next month or two.”

Peter blinks at your response, staring at you over the edge of the menu.

“Should we be here then? We could just get the check now and go down the street to the bodega—”

“No—no, it’s fine,” you reassure him, taking a sip from your glass. From the look of it, Peter can tell the glass is filled with rum and coke—your simple, yet timeless go-to. 

“This is kind of my last hurrah, y’know? Gotta get one last plate of carbonara in before I’m eating ramen and eggs for the next few months.”

“I dunno about that,” Peter responds. “Eggs are pretty expensive now—you might have to settle for canned tuna.”

You roll your eyes at him, yet can’t help the little giggle that escapes you.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know,” he says with a smile.

The waitress wanders back over, and you and Peter put in your orders. Peter also opts to get a drink (after all, if you’re drinking, why shouldn’t he), and a few minutes later, a cosmopolitan is placed onto the table in front of him.

You watch him with a wide smile as he picks up the girly drink and takes a long sip—his pinky sticking out and everything.

“You and your love of sweet drinks,” you say, swirling around the ice in your half-empty glass. Peter hums happily.

“Listen, this is way better than beer.”

Honestly, you can’t disagree.

“So,” he continues, picking up the previous topic. “Are you gonna be okay? Money-wise?”

It’s not like he has much help to offer. Being a masked vigilante doesn’t pay very well, after all, but still.

“Yeah,” you assure him. “I have a side-gig that brings in a little cash-flow, so that’ll help cushion the blow. But I think I should still be able to afford rent and some groceries. I’ll just have to budget better, y’know?”

Peter nods. “Oh, okay. Good—,” but then his brain repeats the phrase “side-gig”, and his words cut off.

“Wait, what kind of side-gig are we talking about here?”

Despite how long the two of you have known each other, Peter has never heard anything about any kind of “side-gig”. It’s a little concerning, honestly, since the two of you don’t really keep secrets from each other.

Although it’s not like you know he’s Spiderman.

“Yeah. It’s nothing illegal, I promise,” you tell him, your attitude remaining pleasant. Peter stares at you, waiting for you to say more, but your smile only grows wider.

“Not telling,” you say, laughing quietly to yourself when Peter huffs in annoyance and grabs his drink. “You’ll just have to trust me. I’d never do anything illegal—you know me.”

“I dunno,” he responds, a playful lilt in his tone. “In college I seem to remember you stealing soft drinks from the mess hall without paying—”

“Oh c’mon,” you shoot back, and Peter grins, knowing you hate when he brings that up. “We were already paying to go to classes! Why should I pay 3 dollars for a cup of watered down coke?!”

Peter laughs as you go on a mini tangent about how college is a ripoff—ordering both you and him two more drinks when your waitress stops in to check on your table.

After a short while, your food comes out, and the two of you catch up over the hot meal. Conversation flows like normal—touching on any other life updates, and also local news topics, and things of the like. 

At your insistence, Peter splits a tiramisu with you to close out the evening, and by the time the dessert is gone, Peter thinks he may explode.

“Ugh, why did I let you talk me into that?” Peter groans, curling over and holding his stomach as you fetch enough cash from his wallet to cover half the bill.

“Well, if you were smart like me, you would have kept half of your entree to take home with you for later, and then you would have had enough room left for dessert. Which, by the way, is too good to waste—so don’t puke it up.”

Your waitress swings by to grab the bill, and you assure her it’s all set—passing her the small stack of money taken from both your and Peter’s wallets. She thanks you with a smile, and then scurries away, leaving the two of you alone.

You reach over the table, patting Peter’s shoulder.

“You’ll be fine. Your stomachs gotten bigger, after all.”

“Hey—,” Peter frowns, lifting his head. You’re already grabbing your purse and takeout box—sliding out of the booth. He quickly follows after you.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No,” you respond, holding the door open for him as the two of you step out into the cool New York air. “You’re actually still surprisingly in-shape for someone whose diet consists of pizza and frozen meals. But, that being said, you can’t deny you’ve put on a few pounds.”

Peter places a hand on his stomach.

“Remind me again why you’re so mean to me?”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound getting lost in the crowd around you.

“You just make it too easy,” you admit, grinning up at him. Despite himself, Peter smiles back.

Being the gentleman that he is, Peter fully intends to escort you back to the doorstep of your apartment building, but—

His spidey senses tingle, and he can tell something is off. 

“Hey, um,” Peter grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. Before your brain can even catch up, he’s yanking you into a quick hug, and then backpedaling towards the alleyway the two of you had just passed.

“Sorry, I just remembered there’s something I have to do. It was nice seeing you! Let’s touch base soon!”

He’s gone before you can even get a word out, disappearing around the corner. You stare after him for a moment, befuddled, and then continue on your way with a sigh. 

Same ‘ol Peter.

Exactly one hour later, Peter collapses in a pile of trash—his lungs heaving, and body aching. The fight itself hadn’t been that hard—just a few wannabe criminals with deadlier than normal weapons. 

No, the real challenge had been not barfing up his dinner while doing acrobatics across the city.

And maybe laying in a pile of trash to take a breather isn’t exactly helping his current predicament, but fuck—he doesn’t have the energy to move right now

Spreading out his limbs, Peter stares up at the smog-coated night sky, his mind wandering. He thinks about a lot of things—all the villains he’s fought in his time as Spiderman, the people who have come in and out of his life during it all, including you. You…who apparently has a “side-gig”.

…but like, what kind of side-gig?

Peter groans, knowing he won’t be able to let this go. 

You can’t just drop the knowledge that you have a secret side-gig on him and then not tell him what it is! 

And if you’re insistent on keeping it a secret, it must be something bad, right? RIGHT??

“Goddammit,” he grumbles, picking himself up. He swings off into the night, his mind reeling.

Peter lasts all of 3-days before he decides he can’t be left alone with his thoughts anymore—that he just needs to confirm what exactly your side-gig is, before his theories can get any wilder.

Because so far, his top guesses are that you’re either 1. Unknowingly acting as a middle man for some illegal trafficking operation, or 2. Providing “services” to New York sleazebags to get in their wallets.

And Peter knows it’s likely neither option—you’re too smart to get roped into something stupid. Plus, you had assured him it was nothing illegal.

But if he doesn’t figure it out, he thinks he may explode. 

So…he goes snooping. 

It’s not his brightest moment—using the spare key you had given him “in case of emergency” to sneak into your apartment one evening. (But to be fair, to him…this might just be an emergency).

He’d used his spidey senses to scope out your apartment before coming in, so he knows you're not home. Which is good, but…he doesn’t know when you’re gonna be back either, so he has to move fast.

Softly closing the front door behind him, Peter tip-toes across your apartment, deciding to start in your bedroom. He stands in the doorway for a moment, guilt bubbling up inside of him, but he decides to push forward anyway.

He’s just making sure you’re okay, he tells himself. You’re one of his closest friends, and you won’t tell him your secret—so it’s understandable he’d be worried.

Like the true Sherlock that he is, Peter starts with you dressers. He quickly checks each drawer—gently lifting up the stacks of clothes to make sure nothing is hidden beneath them. (The only time doesn’t is when he encounters the drawer with your bras and panties. He simply stares at them with flushed cheeks, rocking awkwardly on his heels, before he quietly closes the drawer. Surely nothing would be in there anyway, right?)

The small stack of papers on your nightstand ends up being recent receipts, and a manual on how to use the white noise machine you've apparently just purchased, considering it's sitting on the floor beside your nightstand, still in the box.

Getting on his hands and knees, Peter does a quick check under your bed, and freezes when he spots a covered box. He pulls it out without thinking, tugging off the fabric lined lid—

—and immediately slams it back down.

…veiny, pink, silicon—

Peter haphazardly pushes the box back under the bed, hurrying to his feet. He bustles into the kitchen with cherry-colored ears.

All-in-all, it takes Peter about half an hour to search your apartment, and unfortunately…he comes up empty handed. It seems like you have nothing to hide (except a box of sex toys under your bed, but Peter thinks that’s pretty understandable. You don't want dumb assholes like him accidentally finding it, even though Peter had—)

Sighing, Peter takes one last glance around your apartment.

“Ugh, I shouldn’t have done this,” he sighs to himself, taking a step towards the door. But—not watching where he’s going, he stubs his toe into the leg of your coffee table.

A curse leaves his lips, and your opened laptop—which had previously been dark—jolts to life. Kicking the table must have moved your wireless mouse, Peter realizes.

Having already decided to leave, Peter fully intends to continue on his way. That is…before he takes a glance at your computer screen and sees that you have it open to a Google doc titled: “Spiderman x Reader Commission #6”.

…then, he’s scrambling onto your couch and yanking your laptop towards him.

“Number six??” he hisses dramatically, his eyes scanning over the document so fast that he doesn’t actually end up reading anything. 

He has to pause and go back to try again, but the second Peter reads the sentence “Spiderman’s cock strains painfully against the tight confines of his suit, his fingers twitching against your waist as he drags you in closer”, his brain effectively blue screens.

In a panic, he clicks into a different tab that’s open—landing on your email inbox, where a thread sits open. A transaction between you and an apparent “customer”. Someone who had contacted you in regards to your open “commissions”. 

Hi there! 

I saw you’re accepting commissions, and I really enjoyed reading the other Spiderman fics you wrote! Would you be open to writing one for me? Preferably a Reader x Spiderman, and a smut/fluff genre. Based on the rate sheet, I think I can afford it, but I’d appreciate it if we could talk more and discuss the final price based on the idea I have.

Thanks!

Holy shit, Peter realizes. Your side-gig is writing Spiderman porn on commission.

He sinks back into the couch, his mind whirling. 

How long has this been going on?? Do you…are you attracted to Spiderman?? As long as Peter has known you, you’ve never really fangirled over Spiderman. If Spiderman had popped up in the news, the two of you would talk about him, but…that was it.

And now you’re writing Spiderman smut for cash? Holy hell.

Peter supposes he should be relieved that what you’re doing truly isn’t illegal. That you’re just making money in a mostly innocent way, from the safety of your home. Meaning, Peter can call it quits, and leave.

…but instead, he leans forward, clicks back onto the Google doc tab, and starts reading more.

The document is still a work-in-progress, but Peter scrolls back up to the top, wanting to see how you’ve managed to set up this scenario.

As it turns out, a villain had injected Spiderman with some sort of aphrodisiac, and the reader is a bystander, bravely offering Spiderman her services to get him out of this pickle.

While embarrassing to admit, Peter gets sucked into the story—impressed by your ability to write, and your portrayal of him—err, Spiderman. In fact, he gets so distracted by the story and the multitude of thoughts running through his head that his spidey senses don’t kick in until danger is right on his doorstep.

Or, in reality, you are on your doorstep—your key shoving into the lock on the door. 

Peter’s heart nearly rockets out of his chest, his eyes darting to the window across the room. It’s closed, and even if he used his web shooter to rocket over to it, he wouldn’t be able to safely open the window and escape outside in the two seconds it’s going to take you to finish unlocking your do—

Before he can even finish the thought, your front door shoves open, and you flick on the lights—your gaze immediately finding Peter, who is still firmly planted on your couch, looking like a deer in headlights. 

You stare at him in shock.

“Peter? What…? Why are you here?”

“I was…worried about you,” Peter responds, forcing himself to smile. And it’s not like it’s a lie.

“You said you were strapped for cash, and I…I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

You kick the door shut behind you, your purse and keys discarded on the small table beside your entryway. 

“I thought I told you to just trust me?”

You face him with a hand posed sternly on your hip. You appreciate his concern for you, but it’s a little upsetting that he hadn’t just been able to trust your word. 

“I know,” Peter responds with a sigh. He runs a hand through his graying hair, and your gaze flits to his ears, noticing how red they are. Why is he so flushed?

“And I’m sorry. I’m dumb, I should have. Trusted you, I mean. I’ll just—,” he pushes himself up, planning to excuse himself and run, but freezes half way to his feet. 

He’s half hard. Fuck.

If he gets up now, it’ll be a lot harder to hide that—especially since he’s wearing sweatpants.

Making a lil noise, Peter eases himself back down onto your couch. You cock an eyebrow.

“...you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry…back spasm.”

“Well, you don’t have to rush out. You’re welcome to stay for a while if you don’t have anywhere to be.”

You flash him a smile and turn towards the kitchen. Peter watches you as you open your fridge and bend down—fetching two bottles of water from the bottom shelf. His eyes glue to your ass the second you lean over, and Peter punches himself in the knee—forcing his gaze up towards the ceiling.

He’s going fucking insane. He’s not used to being this…feral feeling. Arousal is usually one of the emotions that evades him nowadays, but here he is—done in by fucking Spiderman fanfiction. 

Who knew he’d get turned on reading about himself fucking some nameless woman? And who knew that arousal would make him thirst after you?

(Honestly, if he thinks about it, it’s not that surprising. The two of you have been friends for years, and he feels comfortable around you. Not to mention, you’ve always been attractive, even if you do like to push his buttons—)

“Here,” you say, snapping him out of his internal panic. You plop down onto the couch next to him, handing him one of the two bottles of water. 

Peter reaches out to take it, and you notice the sweat beading on his brow. Why the hell is he—?

At that moment, you spot your laptop on the coffee table—open, and still showing the commission document you’d left open earlier on. Your first instinct is to reach over and slam your laptop shut before Peter can see—

…wait.

Peter reaches forward to take the water bottle from your grasp, but when he grips it, you don’t budge.

Confused, he looks up—only to find you intensely staring at him.

“Did you read it…?”

Peter’s face heats up, his eyes darting to the side to avoid looking at you.

Busted…

You pulse races, embarrassment blooming in your chest.

HE DID, you realize. HE READ IT. Your fucking Spiderman smut!

“Ah, shit…,” you mumble, letting go of his water bottle and crumpling in on yourself. You curl onto your side, hiding your face in the couch cushion. 

Feeling horrible that he has embarrassed you—having discovered something you’d tried to keep private—Peter hurries to try and smooth over the situation.

“Okay, yes, I did read it,” he starts by saying. “But…it was…really good! You’re a good writer, and I can see why people are commissioning you! You’ll surely make some cash with the skill you have.”

If he was smart, he’d have stopped there, but no—Peter keeps going.

“A-And hey! I’d be willing to help too. Y’know, help give you some inspiration for your stories—”

His voice dies in his throat, realizing what it is he has just offered. And obviously, you realize it too—your head immediately lifting, staring at him with curious surprise.

“Did you just…offer…to fuck? To help me with my stories?”

The insinuation is so insane that you can’t help laughing. Peter coughs, straightening his shoulders out.

“I think I’d be very good inspiration for Spiderman.”

“Really?”

There’s disbelief in your voice. Peter narrows his eyes.

“You don’t think so?”

You hum, uncapping your water bottle and taking a swig. Peter mirrors you, his throat feeling dry.

“Spiderman is…suave and heroic, and you’re…dorky. Smart, but dorky.”

Peter frowns. “I can be…suave.”

You cock an eyebrow, a playful grin breaking out on your face. Your heart is racing a million miles an hour, because never did you think you’d be sitting here with Peter, the possibility of sex between the two of you suddenly laid out on the table. You’d never deny he’s an attractive male, and maybe because it’s him, and because you’ve missed the feel of another human being, you end up saying—

“Yeah? Show me then.”

You lean back, waiting to see if Peter will make a move. 

Unfortunately, the realization that you’re open to whatever is happening right now causes Peter’s brain to stall, and he takes a second too long to act—just long enough to allow doubt to worm its way into your head.

You’re putting him on the spot. And he’s still probably dealing with some complicated feelings from the split—you shouldn’t have poked him.

Without saying anything, you decide to try and create some space. You push off of the couch, padding towards your bedroom. You’ll make an excuse about needing to fold your clothes, or something stupid—and hopefully Peter will take what you’ve said as a joke, and will move on. Yeah, that sounds like a solid plan—

Pausing in the doorway of your room, you force yourself to smile, and turn to face Peter—only to find that he’d snuck up on you—your gaze meeting his chest the second you turn around.

“Pe—,” you’re only able to get the first syllable of his name out, your chin tilting back as you look up at him. The feeling of his palm cupping your cheek is what makes your voice die out, his chestnut eyes boring into you. 

You can see the hesitation on his face. A certain lack of confidence that you’re sure stems from his past relationship issues. But beneath that, you can see desire. A craving for intimacy he hasn’t shared in a long time.

You decide to be the one to close the gap—pressing onto your toes, your palm resting flat on his pec as you lean upward—connecting your lips with his. You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips, and you silently convince yourself that if Peter backs out, you’ll be fine with it. 

Luckily, he doesn’t. His brain finally kicks into gear, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist as he kisses you back. 

You make a pleasantly surprised little sound, your arms lifting to wrap around his neck—effectively deepening the kiss. A wrinkle appears between Peter’s eyebrows, his grip on your waist tightening. Your chest presses flat against his torso, and he rubs his thumb against your cheek, obsessed with the plushness of your lips and the feel of you against him.

It’s been way too long since he’s been intimate like this…that’s apparent by the blood absolutely rockets into his dick.

Although, to be fair, he’d already been half-hard before this.

“You think our local hero gets hard this quick?” you mumble against his lips with a grin, giggling when Peter makes a noise of annoyance and nips at you.

“You’d be surprised,” he responds. He slots his thigh between your knees, backing you into the doorframe. His clothed cock grinds against your stomach, trapped between your bodies, and his muscles tense.

“Adrenaline can go straight to the dick sometimes…”

(Peter has lost track of how many times, after an intense fight—especially earlier in his career—he’d swung home and immediately jerked off).

“That’s fair, I suppose.”

Your fingertips coast up the nape of his neck, tangling in the messy hair at the base of his skull. You yank him downward ever so slightly, your lips connecting with the skin of his neck. He immediately shivers, the first of many embarrassing sounds ripping from his chest as you lick and suck at his flesh.

“Think Spiderman whimpers?”

You’re teasing him. As to be expected, given the dynamic of your relationship. But Peter doesn’t intend on taking it quietly.

“Maybe,” he admits, “If you make him feel good enough. But if you wanna know what I think—”

Peter surprises you by ducking down—his arms looping around your thighs as he lifts you off the floor. Your squeal, arms and legs instinctively wrapping around him since you don’t want to fall, but Peter carries you easily enough—striding into your room and depositing you onto your bed.

He doesn’t waste any time—quickly caging you down. His knee reclaims its spot between your thighs, rubbing incessantly at the dampening fabric covering your privates, and his lips find your neck—a shiver raking up your spine as his stubble scratches against your skin.  

“Peter,” you gasp when his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingertips ghost over your heated skin, brushing past your waist, and finding the clasp of your bra. You have to arch to give him room to work, and Peter sucks a hickey of approval into your neck. He debates telling you “good girl”, but the thought leaves him the second your bra pops open.

He needs your tits in his mouth.

“—I think Spiderman has a thing for boobs,” Peter says, finally finishing his earlier statement. This exclamation is followed with the immediate removal of your shirt and bra—Peter forcibly tugging them over your head and discarding them on the floor beside your bed. 

The sight of Peter groping you and lowering his mouth to your chest is enough to have your heart skipping a beat, and you can’t help the mewl that leaves you when Peter sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.

Peter groans when your fingers fist in his hair, practically keeping his mouth trapped where it is, which he hardly minds considering he intends to lick and suck at your tits until you’re panting. 

And, that’s exactly what he does.

He lavishes your chest with his mouth—relishing in the way your hips jump at each little nip of his teeth or roll of your nipple between his fingers. It’s embarrassing, honestly, how wet it gets you—your panties feeling quite wet as you continue grinding your pussy against Peter’s thigh.

You try and think of some smart response in regard to Peter’s opinion that Spiderman is a tit man, not an ass man, but words seem to be avoiding you. You can’t think of anything coherently when Peter is touching you like this. Especially when his face finally leaves your chest, his lips peppering kisses down the length of your torso.

You lift your head to look at him, propping up on one of your arms. Peter reaches your navel, but doesn’t stop, heading towards—

“Peter,” you pant, your face flushing hotly as you realize the path he’s carving. 

Peter hums, his eyes flitting up and meeting your gaze just as he hooks his thumbs beneath the band of your pants. 

“Another thing about Spiderman…,” he begins, kissing the skin of your tummy as he inches your waistband down your hips. You watch him with blown-wide eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly—excitement and nervousness mingling inside of you.

You lift your ass off the mattress to help him shuck you of your bottoms, and Peter smiles, tossing your pants on the floor beside your other clothes.

Never in your life did you imagine the sight of Peter sinking to his knees, his hands gripping your hips and dragging you closer to him—his gaze falling between your legs. Your panties are soaked, and the sight causes more blood to rush into his dick. He’s so hard that it honestly hurts—just a little bit—but Peter still doesn’t touch himself, because—

“...Spiderman loves eating pussy.”

“He’s a people-pleaser,” you quip breathlessly, your thighs quivering in Peter’s hold when he presses a kiss to your skin, right beside your panty line. He quietly chuckles.

“Maybe.”

Peter thumbs at your clit through your panties, relishing in the whine he rips from your throat. You hips buck in his hold, craving more, and when Peter sees the desperate look on your face, he decides to not tease you.

Peeling your panties to the side, Peter finally connects his mouth with your pussy—his tongue licking a wet, broad strip between your folds.

Oh, shit, you think to yourself, the muscles in your abdomen convulsing as you watch one of your closest friends eat you out. The whole situation is making you feel light headed, so you can’t help it when you collapse back onto the mattress, your fingers fisting in the sheets as Peter groans into your cunt.

He eats you like a man starved, his face quickly becoming covered with your arousal. His nose bumps against your clit as his tongue sinks between your walls, and you full out whimper—your hips needily grinding against his mouth.

Peter’s palm presses down on your pelvis, forcing your hips to the mattress. He doesn’t want you squirming—just wants you desperate and pliant. To see you cumming on his tongue.

His name falls from your lips again, more debauched than he’s ever heard, and Peter curses.

“Shit.”

His tone is guttural, and sexy, and—

He presses a finger inside of you.

“Oh, fuck, Pete—,” his name deterorates into a moan, your brain function declining as Peter begins fucking his finger inside of you. At the same time, he focuses his mouth on your clit, his tongue urgently flicking against the bundle of nerves. 

You unconsciously wriggle at the assault of stimulation, but Peter’s hand on your stomach keeps you in place.

Why is he so strong? You think to yourself, moan ripping from your chest as Peter slips in a second finger. It doesn’t take him long to locate that spongy little sweet spot inside of you. The one that causes your thighs to shake as he practically abuses it—rubbing the pads of his fingers against it repeatedly until you’re nearly sobbing.

The coil in your belly winds tight, heat searing your veins. You can feel your clit throbbing against Peter’s tongue, and the walls of your pussy tightening up around him.

“Peter,” you cry, your entire body trembling. You’re so fucking close.

“Cum,” he rasps. He needs to see you orgasm—needs to feel you unraveling on his mouth and fingers. 

Hearing the gravel of his voice is the final nail in your coffin—the tension in your muscles releasing as your orgasm washes over you. Just as he wanted, you cum all over him, your cunt gushing arousal around his fingers as his tongue continues lapping at your clit, dragging out the waves of your pleasure until you’re panting and pawing at his head, trying to push him away.

After a moment, he relents—sitting back to look at you.

You’re covered in a sheen of sweat, your chest heaving, and an arm draped over your eyes. Your tits are peppered with an array of hickies, and Peter feels his chest (and cock) swell with pride. He’s clearly done a number on you. And yet…

You feel the mattress dip, and then the room is spinning around you. When things finally settle, you find yourself laying on top of Peter.

He has one arm wrapped around your waist, his palm resting on your ass. The other brushes a few stray strands of hair out of your face when you lean back to look at him.

“Spiderman also loves being ridden,” he says with a grin. You place your hands on his chest, feeling it rumble with laughter as he watches you struggle to sit up.

“You think I have the energy to ride you after you just did that? And why do you keep saying Spiderman enjoys these things like they’re facts—you don’t know.”

“Just a feeling,” he responds, licking his lips. His hands find your hips, and he grinds you downwards. Your sensitive pussy rubs against his aching length, still trapped behind his sweatpants, and it’s hard to miss the way Peter harshly swallows at the feeling.

You sigh, scooting backwards.

“Fine.”

You shove his sweats and boxers down his thighs, careful to not snag them on his dick. And damn, he really must be aching—a sticky string of precum dripping from the head of his cock, and pooling on his abdomen. 

He opens his mouth, but you don’t give him the chance to say anything. Your fingers wrap around his cock, smearing his arousal across his length, and whatever Peter had been planning to say crumbles into a needy garble of non-words.

You can’t help but smile at the sound.

“Surprised you didn’t cream your pants already,” you tell him, but your tone is hardly teasing. No, seeing him beneath you like this—the muscles in his torso clenching with every stroke of your hand—it’s actually quite endearing.

“I’ll cum in your hand if you keep doing that,” he pants, glancing into your eyes. You spot nothing but lust there, any previous reservations gone.

“Is that so bad?” you ask, thumbing at the head of his cock. Peter’s grip on your waist tightens, and you hear him take a shaky breath.

“Yes.”

He wants to be inside you, that much is clear. And while it’d be so easy to draw it out and make him beg…you don’t feel like being mean to him. Not tonight, after he’d just given you the best oral of your life.

“Fine,” you relinquish. You scoot forward, planting one hand on his chest, and gripping the base of his cock with the other. Peter’s breath catches when you rub the head of his cock between your folds, a heady groan following a beat later as you begin sinking down onto him.

By the time his cock is fully inside of you, your thighs are shaking. Whether from the lack of energy due to your previous orgasm, the remarkable size of Peter inside of you, or both—you’re not totally sure.

“There’s no rush,” Peter reassures you, but the needy warble of his voice betrays his words.

“My legs might give out at some point,” you respond with a breathless laugh, and Peter echos you, giving your waist a squeeze.

“That’s fine. I’ll help.”

With your palms planted firmly on his chest, you begin to ride him. 

And god, you feel so fucking good.

“Fuck,” Peter bites out, watching the space between your bodies, where his cock disappears inside of you with every roll of your hips. It’s been ages since a cunt has squeezed his dick like this, and honestly, he can see himself very easily getting addicted to the feel of you.

The bounce of your tits as you ride him, the cute little sounds you make when his cock rubs against the sensitive spots inside you—he feels like he’s going crazy.

“Peter,” you whine, your pace flattering. Having his cock inside of you is incomparable to the feeling of his fingers, and very quickly, you can feel another orgasm building, but…the closer you get, the more your strength falters.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he responds, praises falling from his lips. “You’re doing so good. You feel so good.”

His words cause your walls to clench around him, and he groans—his hands sliding down to your hips as he helps rock you down onto his cock. The sloppy sound of sex fills your bedroom, and you watch Peter with half-lidded eyes, soaking up the desperation showing on his face. 

His hair is slicked back with sweat, brows pinched together in concentration as he forces you to continue riding him. At least, until he starts craving more.

With his orgasm quickly approaching—despite the immense pleasure he gains seeing you bouncing on top of him—Peter’s hunger gets the best of him.

He grabs your wrists, moves your arms so they’re wrapped around his shoulders, and then secures his arms around your back. Before you can even digest the slight change in position, Peter is fucking you.

An incoherent string of noise slips past your lips, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as his cock pistons inside of you. With his arms trapping you against his chest, you’re helpless but to take it—your orgasm rushing to the surface at the desperate yet brutal pace that Peter sets.

“Peter,” you sob into his neck.

“It’s okay,” he responds without missing a beat, his voice breathless. “I’m right there. Cum for me again, sweetheart.”

As if you could stop.

Holding onto him for dear life, you cum for the second time that night—your walls clamping down on his cock so tightly that Peter’s rhythm falters. A curse rips from his throat, and his hands find the plush of your ass—stuffing your body down onto his dick as he cums along with you—pumping you full of his seed.

The needy tension of the room melts away, and you and Peter can only lay there—a pile of sweaty yet sated flesh. It takes you both a minute to catch your breaths, and you make a quiet noise of disappointment when Peter’s cock slips out of you. 

You can feel his cum running out of your pussy.

“Your balls aren’t dried up yet?”

Peter’s chest rumbles beneath you.

“I’m in my 30’s, not my 60’s.”

You glance up at him when you feel Peter’s fingers clearing the hair away from your face, and he smiles at you. Your heart jumps.

He must know how handsome he is, right? Even with that crooked nose of his.

“Don’t you ever get tired of taking cracks at me?” he wonders, using his grip on your ass to slide you farther up his chest. You giggle, cupping his cheeks as you find yourself suddenly face to face with him. 

“Mmmm, no?”

He rolls his eyes, yet his smile widens. You lean down to kiss him, and he reciprocates easily enough.

“Feeling good?” you ask him, carding your fingers through his hair. He nods.

“Very. I…really missed that.”

“Same,” you agree, sitting back. You need to get to the bathroom before any cum gets on your nice sheets. You crawl off of Peter, swinging your legs over the side of your mattress. He rolls onto his side, watching you with furrowed brows as he tucks his dick back into his pants.

“Same? You haven’t—?”

“Not in a while,” you admit, pulling a fresh shirt and a pair of panties from your dresser drawers. You’re about to make a joke that the only action you’ve gotten recently is from the toys stashed under your bed, but when you turn to look at the spot where they’re hidden, you find that…the box has moved. It’s not where you had left it.

“Did you…find my sex toys? Before I came home?”

Peter’s face goes carefully blank, but the red flush of his ears betrays him. 

You shoot him a glare, leaving your room with a huff.

“Dude doesn’t trust me…how fucking rude…”

“Hey now—!” 

Peter’s feet pound against the floor as he chases after you, and he catches you around the waist just before you make it into your bathroom. His lips press against the crown of your head.

“Again, I’m sorry for snooping. I’m dumb.”

You sigh, wriggling around to face him.

“You are,” you agree, lightly patting his chest. “Dumb, and insistent that Spider man loves tits, eating pussy, and getting ridden. Still holding those beliefs?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Peter grins. “And I have other beliefs about his preferences as well.”

“Of course you do,” you laugh. You kiss his cheek, and then step out of his hold—heading into the bathroom. 

“I’m going to shower,” you tell him. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you want any.”

Peter nods, and the last thing you see is him heading for your fridge when you close the bathroom door.

30 minutes later, you exit your steaming bathroom in your fresh oversized t-shirt and panties, fully expecting to find Peter lounging around your apartment, eating all your food. But…to your utter disappointment, you don’t spot him anywhere.

You sigh, shoulders sagging. Had it been too much to assume he would have wanted to stay the night?

Shuffling into your kitchen, you spot an empty plate on your table. One that you know had previously been piled high with leftover chicken and potatoes.

“He eats my food and runs off…of course,” you mumble, picking up the plate to put it in the sink. However, before your annoyance can truly get the better of you, a piece of paper that had been stuck to the bottom of the plate floats to the ground.

You bend over to pick it up.

Hey!

Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to stay so long, so I left my apartment earlier without locking the door. I’m running back home to lock it, but I should be back at your place by 9!

Don’t get mad at me. I’d never run off without a word :p

-PB

PS. I have a working theory that Spiderman also has more stamina than you’d expect, even for a guy who’s been doing hero work for 20+ years, so…round two when I get back?

You can’t help but laugh.

What an idiot. 

But…you like him.

[donotpush]

Always right

Hello! This is a commission for @calicocatboi, portraying Alex and Arcy, their OC's! It was a really fun writing, and I hope y'all enjoy it!

CW: ftm misgendering, breeding kink, preg kink, lactation, birth, labor denial, humiliation, nsfw

Alex's hand pinned his head against the pillow, and as he felt the sharpness of his nails pressing against the back of his head, Arcy’s pussy started to clench around the swelling knot of his boyfriend's dick. He could feel Alexander’s movements becoming more frenetic, harder, as his boyfriend towered upon him and trusted mercilessly into his hole.

As Alex used his body weight to stop Arcy from writhing beneath him, one of his hands pressed Arcy’s face against the pillow and the other free hand was busy with one of his boobs. Arcy’s breasts were sore and red, leaking saliva from the previous foreplay and covered in marks, the result of all the kissing and biting.

A loud moan escaped Arcy’s lips when he started to feel the familiar sensation of Alex’s dick starting to swell inside of him. It was predicted by how fast and erratic the werewolf movements were becoming with each trust, barely able to think besides the pleasure of being buried deep in his pussy, but it always took Arcy by surprise.

"F…Fuck…" The words came out slurred out of Arcy’s mouth when he felt the base of Alex's cock starting to become wider, thicker, around his sensitive pussy lips. “I’m so…fucking close.”

Electricity shot through his body when the tip of Alex's dick finally hit his sweet spot, making Arcy become a trembling mess beneath him. He could feel the warmth of Alex’s breath hitting the back of his head as Alex lowered himself, still pounding into him, and he slid one of his hands beneath Arcy’s legs, pressing the palm of his hand against his clitoris before he started to rub circles on it.

"Cum," Alex growled, "Cum for me."

An orgasm washed over Arcy’s body as soon as the words reached his ears. Alex let out a loud growl as he felt his pussy tightening around his cock, and then he felt his dick completing the knot, pressing against Arcys’ walls and getting stuck.

It was a matter of seconds before Arcy felt Alex’s warm seed filling him up, trapped inside his pussy by the knot. Bare, totally raw.

Alex decided to start going raw.

Well, it technically was a couple's decision, the one they took about having a baby, because, of course, Arcy was sure about it. There was no way he could not be sure when Alex had so many and so good points, right?

So yeah, having a baby was a couple's decision.

Alex’s point helped Arcy decide that the right thing to do was to postpone his transition, to wait until after the pregnancy: it was just gonna be better for him to wait until the baby was here, better on him and his body. And yes, it made sense: Arcy wanted everything to go as organic and natural as possible with the baby, even if it meant that he had to put that aspect of his life on hold.

Alex thought that was the best route to take. And his boyfriend was always right.

He felt Alex shifting behind him, wrapping his arms around Arcy’s body before he let his whole weight fall on top of him, pressing even deeper inside of his pussy.

“Good boy," Alex growled in his ear. “Take it.”

He felt his stomach slowly inflating as Alex’s seed filled him up. One of his hands traced the curve of Arcy’s stomach. An odd feeling came over Arcy. Deep in the fog of his ecstasy, the idea seemed unreal, Arcy could barely imagine the fact that in the next few months, he was going to be pregnant.

***

His eyes deceived him. If Arcy touched his body, when he would run his hand over his stomach or when he grasped over his chest, everything felt the same as always.

But now, as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, what he was and what he felt didn’t match. Beneath the palm of his hand rested the noticeable protuberance of his growing stomach. It was there, and it wasn't small. Arcy didn’t think that he would be able to hide it for much longer.

Going upwards, towards his chest, it was already starting to swell. His boobs—as Alex started to refer to them— were growing, and not only in size. His sensitivity levels were also growing exponentially as the months went by.

He experienced the fact of feeling different from what he saw in the mirror his whole life, always, but now it was entirely different: he could no longer see himself as anything other than pregnant. Other than swollen, and heavy with Alex’s child, almost as if he were no man any more.

The first few months were relatively easy. Morning sickness was almost non-existent, but his body did seem to just want to lay down and nestle in his bed, surrounded by Alex or by anything with his smell.

Now, as he reached the mark of the five months, Arcy was starting to see it.

His stomach, still a small bump (easily covered by his hoodies when he felt like it) hadn't been a problem until now. Until he realized that as every day passed, it was becoming harder and harder to just hide it.

He barely knew what he wanted to mean with it, because now, it was everything: his growing boobs, his swelling bump, his softening body, his widening hips. Everything that made him feel not him.

Arcy was used to the feeling of his body not being his, but now, he felt like a foreign in his skin more than ever. Everything was bigger, everything was more sensitive. Everything was more and more unavoidable as time passed.

Curvier than ever. His hips had to widen to accommodate the growing pup inside him, his body became softer, thighs thicker and thicker, his chest barely able to contain itself behind his binder, his walk slowly turning into a waddle.

And deep down, almost rooted, there was an idea that he was fighting. The idea that this had to be his (her) one and true nature: his body was meant for this after all. Meant for motherhood. Meant to be a baby carry machine, to be a breeding bitch, almost.

Fuck. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t getting wet at the idea.

Arcy's eyes traveled in the mirror from his face, to look for Alex, who was sitting on the edge of the bed behind him, staring at him through the mirror reflection.

He saw the look, Alex's eyes hungrily roaming over his body. Arcy scoffed. Alex raised an eyebrow.

“Come here.”

His boyfriend's voice, low and gritty, sent chills down his spine and made his pussy throb. Still, Arcy remained in his place in front of the mirror.

Who did he think he was, all bossy and ordering Arcy around like that? If anyone in the room, right now and in this situation, had the right to be a brat, it was Arcy.

As if it wasn't enough to be like this, now he was being bossed around.

“Come here,” Alex repeated.

Arcy didn't turn to look at him, instead, just shrugged, pulling his hoodie down to cover himself again.

“No,” he said, “I'm not in the mood for any of you right now, Alex.”

He didn't see it, but he heard the low growl and the buff coming out of his boyfriend's. Then, Arcy heard the bed creaking under his weight as Alex leaned forward, resting his hand on his knees.

“I said,” Alex growled, “Come here.”

Arcy shook his head and swallowed. He could feel the hair of his neck sticking up, and the feeling of Alex’s eyes burning on his back, and Arcy felt like prey. Well, Arcy thought, he got a reaction. A small smirk crept up his face as he felt the heat between his legs grow.

Then, the next thing Arcy knew was that Alex’s hands were pushing against his body, and he pulled Arcy down by the hips towards him, pressing his ass to his lap. A small whimper escaped Arcy’s lips when he felt the bulge of Alex’s dick pressing between his legs, and almost unconsciously, Arcy’s hips jerked, pressing back against Alex’s growing erection. Alex tightened his grip around his arms, keeping him in place as he leaned in to press a kiss against his neck.

“I told you,” Arcy grumbled, “I’m not in the mood for you.”

Arcy writhed, trying to escape his boyfriend's grip, but all he could do was squirm and press himself even more against the forming erection in Alex's pants, his cock twitching when Arcy tried to get away from him and failed.

“You shouldn’t talk to me like that,” Alex said slowly, sliding one of his hands up the fur of his abdomen, “Should you?”

Arcy squirmed, “I’m gonna…” his words were interrupted by a gasp that escaped his lips when Alex's hand traveled further up, squeezing his boobs. “…Talk… however I want.”

In response, Alex squeezed his boob harshly. A loud whimper escaped his lips and Arcy squirmed, his hips rocking against his boyfriend's throbbing dick. It only made the werewolf even more feral. He could almost feel the way Alex’s breath hitched, the beat of his heart thumping loudly in his chest, pressed against Arcy’s back, the heat of his throbbing erection against his ass.

Alex wrapped his hands around Arcy’s forearms and lifted him to pull him away from him, dragging him around the bed.

Yeah, Alex was not only way bigger than him, but Arcy also recognized how stronger he was compared to him. His boyfriend always said that Arcy hit like a girl. And it was true: it didn’t matter how much effort Arcy put into going to the gym, trying to get stronger, trying to look as buff and intimidating as Alex did effortlessly, at the end of the day when he looked at himself in the mirror, he still looked like a girl.

Alex lifted him, dragged him around, and manhandled him into throwing him onto the bed.

He felt the weight of his boyfriend's body crushing him down when Alex hovered over him, his hard breath tickling his neck as he pressed his teeth into the soft skin there, ever so faintly, but it still drew a moan from Arcy.

“God, babe,” Alex groaned, a smirk on his voice. “There’s just something about you since…” he stopped, lowering himself towards Arcy and pressing a small kiss on his neck.

It seemed like he wasn’t sure about the words that were about to come out of his mouth next, but then his chest raised and fell, and he spoke anyway. “Since you started showing. You look smoking hot like that."

Yeah, there was something about it. It made him incredibly horny to know that finally, he managed to knock up Arcy. To put his puppies inside of that little body of him. The soon-to-be huge pups inside of him. There was a certain inherent pride in knowing that, and just for the sake of making it clear, it made him horny as fuck.

It wasn’t only the feeling, but also the facts: the way Arcy’s body was changing, becoming more and more… feminine by the moment, it drove him fucking crazy.

Alex’s fingers halted at the waistband of Arcy’s sweatpants before he slowly started to pull them down, smirking as the first sight of the purple panties was revealed. If Alex didn’t know better, he would have thought the fact that Arcy was wearing the very one lingerie set Alex loved was an honest mistake or just a wonderful coincidence.

But Arcy did know better, and he knew that it was on purpose.

One of the changes that didn’t go unnoticed by Arcy was how horny his boyfriend was.

Alex continued to lift Arcy’s shirt upwards before he finally slid it off. His eyes were fixed on Arcy’s engorged breasts, now barely contained by the purple fabric, the sensitive skin pushing and teasing against his bra and stretching it to its limit.

Alex meant it when he said he liked this better. He probably would have never admitted it out loud, but seeing Arcy like this, almost at the peak of femininity, felt natural. It felt so much more natural than seeing him wearing a binder all the time. It had been a delicious experience to be able to sit back down and watch the fruit of his work. To see Arcy's hips, his boobs, the way his body changed to get used to fulfilling his natural mandate: to carry a pup.

To carry his pups. Like a good girl.

His dick was throbbing inside his pants. Alex slid a finger down Arcy’s pussy, teasing the elastic band of his underwear before he slid the finger inside the fabric, pressing against his wet folds.

A small growl escaped Arcy’s lips as his body twitched under his boyfriend’s touch, and he pushed his hips forward, meeting the palm of Alex’s hand, in a desperate attempt of anything that would produce the necessary friction for him to get off.

He felt like a desperate slut when his hand reached to search blindly for Alex’s throbbing dick, caressing and slowly pumping the erection over the fabric of his pants.

“Are you gonna fuck me?” Arcy teased, “Or you just gonna stand there and do nothing?”

He could feel the wetness growing between his legs as Alex rubbed his hand against his pussy. The pressure and the grinding seemed to go on forever, until Arcy couldn’t take any more and let out another needy moan.

Alex pressed his claws against the soft skin of Arcy’s hips, pulling him closer, before he hurriedly slid down his zip and slid inside of him, growling as he felt the wetness and warmth of Arcy's pussy clenching around him.

Another one of the few good things that being pregnant got Arcy was that he was always ready to be fucked. And usually, Arcy was constantly thinking about sex. But now it was as if his brain had melted and the only thing that remained inside his brain was being horny. He was just always ready to have Alex bending him over and stuff his dick inside his pussy.

And now that Alex was scratching that itch, thrusting faster and faster inside of him, Arcy could not articulate a single thought besides how good it felt.

How good it felt to let himself be used like that, deeply aware that Alex was using him to satisfy that particular itch. The word use was quite strong, but Arcy wasn’t dumb. He slowly but surely realized that the more he looked more and more like a woman, the more Alex was unable to keep his hand off of him.

It was humiliating. The idea was embarrassing, and it made him feel almost sick, but if Alex was so sure that he liked this better, then his boyfriend had to be right. It was just stupid to think Alex could be wrong, that Alex could want anything but what was right for Arcy.

It was humiliating, so humiliating how wet the whole thing made him.

A loud whimper escaped his lips when Alex started to thrust faster inside of him, his claws gripping at his arms and pulling him closer, trying to get deeper inside of him with each thrust.

“Ugh, f…fuck!” Arcy moaned, gripping the sheets as his eyes rolled at the back of his head.

Alex paced up the speed of his movements, his dick throbbing inside of the smaller boy. The fogging pleasure was starting to escalate, slowly but surely, and Arcy could feel himself starting to be pushed to the edge. He was almost there, thighs trembling and mouth babbling nonsense.

The tip of Alex’s was starting to swell inside of him, and he could feel his lips starting to clench around it, when Alex suddenly pulled out of him, leaving him feeling desperately empty.

A frustrated whimper escaped his mouth, but his confusion was replaced quickly when, without giving him time to even react or complain, Alex lifted his body and tossed him around in bed, so that his head was hanging from the edge of the bed, and then Alex pulled away from him, standing up and to tower over him.

If Arcy looked up, all he could see was Alex’s erection, red and swollen, leaking precum upon his head.

Then, Alex guided his dick inside of Arcy’s mouth.

The werewolf couldn't help a low growl as he felt Arcy’s lips wrapping around the tip,

“C’mon now,” Alex breathed, pushing himself into Arcy’s mouth. “Be a good girl for me.”

A whiny sound escaped Arcy’s throat, and none of them were sure if it was a protest or a moan. He could feel the heat between his legs and the need to have something creating the necessary friction for him to get off was maddening.

If Arcy was offended by his words, it didn’t show when he started sucking on his dick. His free hand reached to slide between his legs, starting to rub fast, desperate circles over his sensitive clit.

Inside of him, the pup kicked against the stretched skin of his sensitive abdomen. Alex reached a hand to let it rest over the bump of his stomach, possessively, and it only took Arcy a few more strokes to make himself cum against his hand.

Alex’s seed exploded inside of his mouth seconds later, and Arcy, like the slut he wanted to be, swallowed every drop of the thick liquid inside of his mouth. Under the pressure of Alex’s hand, he could feel his stomach starting to swell with cum, growing ever so slightly but noticeable.

As he stared down at his own body, Arcy noticed the tensing skiing of his stomach as it grew, and right where Alex’s hand was still pressed, the pup kicked. Then, Alex bent over to reach with his hand between Arcy’s legs, sliding a finger between his folds and taking it to Arcy’s lips.

“Taste yourself,” he said, a smirk on his voice as Arcy licked the slimy substance out of his finger. “And to think you didn’t want to. I can’t imagine what it would be like if you did.

Arcy, still lightheaded, nodded. Alex was always right.

***

His eyes wandered absently on the shop window, and Arcy barely registered what he saw, but then, he stopped in his tracks, and his eyes went back to his reflection, staring at himself almost with wide eyes.

He looked massive.

Well, not massive, but definitely fucking pregnant. The hem of his shirt was stretched and lifted over the lower curve of his abdomen, revealing the skin of his underbelly, and the fabric was tight around his engorged boobs.

The image —his image, took him by surprise. He didn't realize that most of his clothing had stopped fitting. Or rather, started fitting.

Most of his wardrobe consisted of oversized hoodies and overall, clothes that were way too big for Arcy. But now, his clothes were fitting him just right.

He was quickly running out of ways of hiding his new body. The fabric of all his shirts, all of his hoodies, were now overstretched over the curve of his swollen bump, and his growing chest —god, it seemed like it never stopped getting bigger and bigger, every day— was impossible to hide.

It was embarrassing to be out in public like that.

Alex was the one to speak to the doctor, and he made it clear to Arcy: there was no way he could bind his chest if they wanted to keep going with the idea of breastfeeding.

And of course, they were breastfeeding. Alex was right, it would be best for the baby to have real milk, not formula. And Arcy had a great milk supply.

A large one.

Usually, his boobs were the last thing on his mind: he would either put on a hoodie and go on or he would bind them, but now? His possibilities were few.

At the end of the day, his mind always drifted to what Alex said once: he looked like such a pretty girl now. He looked like what he was supposed to look like.

A low hum escaped his lips at the idea. His eyes tried to travel to the baby items on display, but in the end, they always ended up going back to his reflection.

It ruined the day for him. Whenever the exact thing he tried to hide —hide, what a curious choice of wording it— was finally coming to light. He barely looked like a real man.

“I think we should go back home, “ Arcy grumbled, crossing his arms against his chest and looking away from the shop window. “Now.”

By his side, Alex raised an eyebrow. He didn’t need to turn around to feel the way Arcy’s mood had turned sour. The werewolf felt a pang of annoyance at his boyfriend’s words: it was Arcy who insisted on the nonsense of them going out to the mall, the worst place ever, and then being grumpy and pouting and complaining all day long.

And the worst of all? Once again, Alex was right, he was opposed to the idea from the start.

“Why did you make me bring you here?” Alex gruffed. “We didn’t buy anything, and you’ve been all day with that attitude of yours.”

Almost intentionally, Alex quickened his pace, his steps widening, and he started to leave Arcy behind him.

A frown took over Arcy’s features, and he let out a huff as he tried to match his boyfriend’s pace, mainly, to at least be able to see him in the eye while they talked. But it was hard, his legs were short and, well, now with all the extra weight he was carrying and with his protuberant stomach, his walking turned into a waddle. And he could never match Alex’s speed.

"Alex!" Arcy whined, “Don’t run.”

By the moment Arcy could finally reach his boyfriend, they were making their way out of the mall. They passed by the food court —the smell of fresh bread and hot sandwiches wafting from the stands, which made Arcy want to gag— and they continued walking in a tense silence as they finally reached the parking lot.

Alex let out a loud huff, rolling his eyes before he finally turned to face Arcy, and his frown only deepened when Arcy gave him an exasperated, pouty look.

Alex’s eyes narrowed, his voice rising in frustration. “Then why did you drag me here in the first place? You know I can’t stand this stuff!”

Arcy crossed his arms, his cheeks flushing with anger. “Because it’s not just about you, Alex! We needed things, and I thought you could try to enjoy it. But no, you always have to make everything miserable!”

Alex scoffed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, right, because waddling through a mall for hours is my idea of fun, right.”

Arcy just let out a loud groan and rolled his eyes, deciding to keep his mouth shut.

Arcy just let out a loud groan and rolled his eyes, deciding to keep his mouth shut. He was just so over it, and didn’t feel like getting into an argument at this point —even if it was all Alex’s fault in the first place. Arcy had done his best to make his boyfriend happy. It wasn’t his fault that Alex was just being an asshole.

He was about to say something else, just to not let Alex feel like he won the argument, but a tingling sensation took over in his chest, and then, Arcy felt a warm, wet spot forming right at his nipples. He stared down at his breasts, confused, taking his fingers to run them along the damp spots in the fabric. Fuck, he was leaking.

"Damn it…" Arcy mumbled under his breath, feeling his face heat up.

He looked around them, seeing if anyone was staring at them, but thankfully the parking lot was almost empty.

It was the first time that happened to him in public, and thank god he was wearing black clothes. He couldn't stand the odd looks people would give him when they saw his gravid stomach, let alone if they saw that he had wet spots on his chest. Arcy was glad there were no people around to see him struggling to get into the car like a beached whale.

He wasn't sure, but Arcy had the suspicion that Alex took the bumpiest road home. With every shift and jolt of the car, Arcy's body felt more and more uncomfortable, and his boobs ached from all the bouncing. The wet spots of milk just kept on growing larger, unable to stop the milk from leaking.

It was going to be a long ride home.

***

“What are you doing?”

Arcy’s words should have come out more decided, a bit more meaner than they actually did. But as Alex opened his legs further apart and positioned himself between his thighs with no advice, Arcy had to admit that it indeed turned him on a bit. Just a tiny bit.

The first thing he did when he got home was get shirtless, and then, plop himself on the couch with his feet propped up the coffee table. He wasn't in the mood for anything else after their little escapade at the mall, and after the disaster his shirt turned into, it felt best to just hang out around the house naked.

To Alex, seeing his boyfriend naked, sprawled like that on the couch, was an invitation. A clear invitation. And Alex already had an idea in mind about what he wanted to do.

The idea came to him a few days ago, when he read something on a webpage, and it didn't want to leave his mind. He wasn't sure how to bring it up to Arcy, and if this wasn't the right timing he didn't think it would ever be.

Alex moved Arcy's arms, crossed against his naked chest, away, and started to kiss his way up Arcy’s bare chest, slowly leaving distracted kisses on his round stomach. Beneath him, he could feel Arcy's body squirming, suppressing a moan.

"Hey, get off…!" Arcy whimpered, not really making an effort to pull away from him. "I don't wanna"

But his hands went around Alex's neck, keeping him close as Alex finally reached one of his nipples, and slowly wrapped his lips around it, teasing and sucking hard enough that Arcy had to grit his teeth together. He moaned when Alex's fingers started circling his other nipple, rubbing and circling the tender skin.

When Alex finally stopped for breath, Arcy's breath hitched. He leaned forward, trying to catch some kind of attention from his boyfriend's lips again.

Alex went back to his nipple, biting and sucking harshly, before switching the pattern to his other boob, alternating between sucking and caressing each nipple, massaging Arcy's chest. When Arcy's hands tightened around his neck again, he smirked.

It was odd, because what should have been borderline painful and annoying to Arcy, his sensitive breasts being groped like that, sucked on, wasn't being annoying at all. He could feel his pussy throbbing and the arousal starting to rise in his body.

He felt his cheeks heating up, shame rising in his chest at the idea that he was probably about to cum from this.

Actually, Arcy was sure that he was just about to cum. He was right there, didn't even need to slide his hand between his legs to feel how wet he was.

He felt Alex's hand take one of his boobs in its grasp, and then squeeze hard. A loud moan escaped Arcy's throat, and his hips buckled forward, his hand gripping Alex's hair to pull his head closer to his chest. Alex took it like a command, using his tongue to play with Arcy's erect nipple in his mouth before he went once again suctioning.

A second later, Arcy's knees felt weak as a stream of milk burst out of him as Alex sucked, and an orgasm washed over him. He fell back onto the cushions, his back arching as he let out a loud moan, his hand grabbing Alex's hair. His eyes fluttered open, watching as Alex continued to suck and lick clean the milk spilling off him.

Arcy was left lying in a daze, panting heavily as his heart pounded in his ears. Well, that was something.

“Mhm…" Alex hummed in response, lifting his head to stare at Arcy, resting his hands on his bump. "Looks like we found a solution to your… leaking problem," he whispered lowly, kissing the underside of his stomach.

Yes, there was definitely a solution there.

***

Arcy was craving, in the sense of fucking needing it, some coffee.

He wouldn't have thought that the craving for coffee could be stronger than the annoyance he felt with the world when being this pregnant, just about to pop —in fact, just a day before being overdue— but it was. But they didn’t have decaf coffee at home.

But he had stopped feeling like crap, finally, and he had to make the most out of it. So yes, he pestered Alex until he agreed to take him for some coffee, even when Alex didn’t think it was a good idea to get out of the house at all.

Since he entered his last trimester, Alex hovered over him like a dog, watching his every move as if worried Arcy could break at any moment. He wasn't going to break, but he could pop at any moment. Having 6'2" of fur and muscle on top of him all the time was annoying.

Today Arcy wasn’t feeling like shit, per se, but he was still feeling odd.

He just felt…odd. First, he felt full. Full of the huge pup that Alex put in him. Then, he was sensitive, hot, and bothered, everywhere. None of those were new, but in the last few days, Arcy reached new levels of being in discomfort he didn’t imagine were possible.

He felt like he was going to pop any second, the pup weighing him down and the overall feeling of his body that could barely stand being fully clothed. It was almost hell to exist pregnant and in the summertime. And not to mention the relentlessness of the pup inside of him, always moving and turning and kicking, and the cramps.

Those were the worst, always happening at the worst moment, turning his already poor tummy into a tense, solid thing that always made him stop right in his tracks. They weren’t painful, and Arcy was sure they weren’t contractions, but god were they insufferable.

So when that morning he woke up feeling brand new and with a few, spaced cramps that were barely noticeable, it seemed like a good idea to go get some coffee and enjoy the sunny day.

Now, as he waited in what seemed the longest line in history, he was starting to regret his decision.

His hands were busy cradling his tense stomach, trying to lift some of the weight straining his back. Arcy was feeling so irritated. About everything, not only about the waiting line. The people were being too loud, it was hot in there —he was starting to sweat—, his clothes felt tight wrapping around his body.

He was about to mentally go over all of the things that were annoying him, just to double check, when a sharp cramp shot through the base of his stomach and his lower back, making Arcy frown.

“Fuck…” he muttered, breathing through his nose.

Breathe in, breathe out.

That was a contraction. As much as Arcy tried to convince himself it wasn’t, that was a contraction. He tried to play it off as the occasional cramps, but now the ‘occasional cramps’ had been coming consistently and being more and more painful since they went out of the house.

It wasn’t fair that his day was ruined by it, and it wasn’t fair that his body would mess with him like that, making him feel great and the next second, like crap. He was so mad at himself, that he tried to pretend the contractions weren’t there as much as possible. But now, as his swollen feet and achy back from standing in the same place for minutes were starting to take a toll on him, it was harder to ignore it.

Arcy turned around towards the windows by his side, squinting his eyes as he looked for Alex’s car outside, but he couldn't see it. Well, at least he wasn’t there to give him the ‘told you so’ stare.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed since his last contraction, but he was now closer to the cashier, barely, but they were getting there. God, he didn’t realize how claustrophobic the shop was when he first walked in, how small and cramped it was. Now, it seemed as if everyone were pressing together against everyone, and all the people making their way out of the store would bump into him, most of them, without looking back twice and saying sorry.

Arcy cursed out loud the next time his stomach tensed. A few people in front of him turned to give him nasty looks, but most of the world was engrossed in their phones or with their attention elsewhere. He was glad, the last thing he needed right now was people looking at him.

He was almost halfway there, mentally going over his order, when another contraction hit him. His hands gripped at the base of his stomach, and his legs trembled, and Arcy bit his lip to contain a low moan that threatened to escape his throat. He focused on breathing as normally as possible, not wanting to draw attention to himself, but his hitched breath caught the attention of some of the people.

Well, fuck, it was going worse than he predicted.

When he finally could stand up straighter after the pain subsided, Arcy thought that if he couldn’t get to the bloody counter in the next five minutes, he was going home. As soon as he thought that, the cashier lifted his head from behind the counter and his eyes found Arcy’s. The cashier’s eyes traveled from his face towards his abdomen.

“She’s pregnant,” the cashier said, pointing with his finger to Arcy. “Come on here, you have priority, I’ll take your order.”

He felt his face was burning when people turned to look at him. They moved around to let him go, and every step was almost painful as he made his way to the counter. He wanted nothing more than to correct the cashier and tell him that she was a he, but fuck, if he stood there for a second more he was going to kill someone.

As soon as he made it to the counter, a contraction took over him again, his breath coming out harshly through his teeth and his stomach tensing. Arcy gripped the counter with both his hands, knuckles turning white, as he tried to play it off.

“Uh… mhm” he breathed, aware that he probably looked weird right now, “Just… Can I get a cup of decaf latte, please? And… fuck… and an Americano. To go”

The muscles of his stomach were on fire, and Arcy had to bite his lip as the cashier turned around to start with his order.

“Can I get you anything else?" The cashier asked when he handed him the stuff. "We have fresh chocolate buns…"

It seemed like every word that came out of the cashier’s mouth would drag on forever. He didn’t hear a single one else as his eyes traveled behind the cashier, staring at the chocolate buns, and as his stomach contracted again. He could feel the skin tensing under the palm of his hand, and Arcy was sure that his face was red with the effort he was making to not let any other sound escape his lips as he shook his head. His bun in the oven was fucking ready to come out, he thought.

The walk to the exit was a walk of shame. Arcy didn't realize how low the pup was inside of him. The huge head was now crashing against his pelvis, slowly opening him up, and his walk had turned into a pathetic waddle. He was trying to control his body as much as he could, to walk straight, but with the weight of the baby and his tensing stomach, it was almost impossible.

He had the sensation that everyone was staring at him. And he had the idea that everyone was pitying the miserable, gravid girl making her way out of the coffee shop, an expectant mother trying to make it in the last stretch of her pregnancy.

The fresh air of the street offered him a momentary relief, but it washed off as soon as he realized that he still had to walk towards the car. He thought that it shouldn't be that hard to get there, but then another contraction hit and Arcy had to grasp the wall by his side for support, his legs quivering beneath him as his stomach tensed, the most painful one he had felt at the moment.

"Shit…!" Sweat rolled down the sides of his forehead as the contraction passed. "Fuck," he wheezed, taking another minute to catch his breath. "Come on…"

A few paces later he was able to walk normally again. When he finally reached the car and climbed in, with a low groan as he pulled himself in the passenger's seat. The shift in his gravity center when he slumped against the passenger's seat, the pup crashing down on his hips like a bowling ball, made him whimper out loud.

Alex gave him an odd look as he started the engine. "You alright?" he wondered, raising his brow.

Arcy gave him a nod as he shifted in his seat, trying to find a position where the pressure would be more bearable, but there really wasn’t anything that could help him in this state. It was all coming over him now, the realization that he thought he could outsmart his own body and pretend the baby wasn't coming yet. And he was wrong.

"Fuck…" Arcy huffed out again, resting his head on the window."Don't worry about me," he mumbled, his hand caressing the side of his stomach. "Don't… worry about me. All good- let's get home."

"Yeah," Alex nodded, taking a sip of his coffee before leaving it on the cupholder. "We just have to go to the store real quick…"

Arcy closed his eyes and pressed his head back as another contraction took over him, biting his lips as he pressed his hips down on the seat, trying to escape the pain.

"Alex, we have to get home." Arcy muttered, opening his eyes once again."Now."

Even if he couldn’t see him, he knew Alex was rolling his eyes, and the werewolf let out a groan before he turned his head to face Arcy. "We got your coffee, now don't be a fucking brat and…"

"Alex…!" When the contraction reached its peak, Arcy whimpered, "We need to go home right now. F…fuck, this baby is coming. Now."

When Alex turned to face him fully, he saw the exact moment when the realization hit. Then, he saw the exact moment when Alex gave him the I told you so look. A groan escaped Arcy's throat, both because of annoyance and because of the sudden burst of pain.

"Oh shit," Alex gritted his teeth, "Yeah. Not gonna say I told you so, but I told you so."

Arcy was about to reply, but the next wave caught him completely off guard. It was like somebody had just taken a sledgehammer to his gut, and he couldn't do shit other than gasp as his body convulsed and his legs forced themselves apart, trying to find space for his contracting stomach to go. Then, Arcy let out a quiet "shit" as he felt a sudden flow of water coming from between his legs, staining his pants and leaking to the seat.

He shifted, looking between his legs, and he couldn't help but let out another moan. Arcy didn't even turn to face Alex as he started driving, because yes, Alex was right, again.

***

Now that he was in the privacy of his living room, he could allow himself to moan and wail as freely as he wanted, as well as he could give himself the freedom of not wearing any clothes. Whenever he looked down, all he could see was the gravid, tense, and stretched skin of his contracting stomach, and his sore and sensitive breasts, swollen and starting to leak.

The baby's head was right there, pushing behind his lips, he could feel the way his pussy was bulging almost obscenely around it.

"Can you feel it?" Arcy croaked as Alex's hand cupped his pussy, "Shit, shit, shit… it burns!"

"Yes," Alex nodded, his free hand moving to rest on his stomach. "Push with the next contraction."

Arcy swallowed, trying to fight back a moan, as he tried to focus on what he was doing instead of feeling the baby starting to stretch him open. It was bigger than he anticipated, and shit, it was more painful than what he anticipated.

As if he could read his mind, Alex patted his stomach.

"C'mon, you can do this," the werewolf mumbled, remaining quiet when Arcy's stomach contracted under his palm, staring as his boyfriend's eyes went shut, focusing on pushing. "Listen to your body. It was made for this, wasn't it?"

The tone wasn't mockery itself, but Arcy was sure there was an ironic remark to it. And it filled him both with pride and shame. Making Alex proud made him proud, for carrying his pup so well. But it was so embarrassing that Alex was right: this, right here and now, was exactly what his body was made for.

"All women know how to do this, Arcy" Alex stated calmly, "Just go with it. Push."

His stomach contracted and Arcy squatted down, gripping with both hands at the couch back, and pushed. He gritted his teeth when the pup's head slid outside further, stretching his pussy even more open, and his knees trembled, trying to close in reflex. Alex's hand on his thigh kept his legs open.

Another grunt escaped his lips as the contraction went away, and the pup's head slid back inside a bit. Arcy let his head fall back in frustration. "Fuck," he mumbled.

Another one came shortly after, and once again Arcy gripped the couch as he bore down and pushed, his face contorted in pain. Soon, the pup's head slid out, reaching the ring of fire. Arcy shouted, his legs trembling as he shifted his hips in the air, trying to escape the burning feeling between his legs.

"C'mon girl," Alex whispered, his hand stroking Arcy's belly, cupping the pup's head. "Keep pushing."

Another contraction came. Arcy felt how his muscles tensed against his back as the pain became unbearable, and he squatted even further, shaking his head as if it could make the pain go away. He felt hot and tense, and the pressure between his legs was hell, he just couldn't wait until this was over and his pup was in his arms.

With his next push, the head was finally out with a splash of amniotic fluid. His body shook as he leaned forward and supported himself on the couch, feeling Alex's hand firmly on his leg to keep them from snapping closer. Almost there.

Another contraction, and then the pup's shoulders were fully out, and a long whine escaped Arcy, his knuckles going white, his eyes squeezed shut. He focused on pushing, trying to ignore the burning sensation between his legs, and with his next effort, the body was fully out.

Alex helped him steady himself before he guided the pup to Arcy's chest, where he placed it gently. And Arcy felt a sudden sense of relief wash over his whole being, his heart beating rapidly and his muscles relaxing.

"Good job, Momma," Alex praised, wiping sweat from his face. "Good girl. You did it. I told you so."

Yes, Alex told him so. And he was right, Arcy thought, smiling slightly at his pup.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

More Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley and Taskforce Moments With Little Ghost

+ Featuring Los Vaqueros Uncles, Meemaw Laswell (and her wife?), Peepaw Nikolai, Aunty Farah and Uncle Alex

Did I use the same pictures as I did with the last posts? Yes, because these pictures are so Ghostie coded. Also there's like a slight ✨sprinkle✨ of Angst in there, good luck <3

Tag list: @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui HAS THE BEST FREAKING COMMENTARY AND IS SO SWEET, SHE MAKES ME SOUND LIKE I'M SOME AUTHOR WHO WROTE A FAMOUS BOOK, ILY CONNORSUI <3 (ngl, I go back to read her commentary over and over again because if how nice they make me feel 😭)

Pairings: Ghost x Wife!Reader

This is my personal AU, I don't think anyone has written on little Ghostie before I did. Not to say that there aren't any works on Dad!Ghost and his kids however Ghostie is a character of mine who holds such a special place in my heart, especially after I started writing more about her and how she acts around everyone.

Possible ships: Farah x Alex (Faralex)?? Alejandro x Rudy (Alerudy)?? Price x Nikolai (Nikprice)??

I know Halloween season is over but y'all can't do anything about this, it's been cooking in my brain for a while now. (Some of these are just regular scenarios though) Ghostie is back y'all!!!

❥ Ghostie who simultaneously made her way into convincing the Taskforce to go with her trick or treating, having her little army uniform that was commissioned for her, a bit visible underneath her pink puffy jacket. Yeah I don't think she's going to stop wearing it unless she's outgrown it, in which case, that would just break her big heart :((

❥ Simon holding little Ghostie's hand while she toddles, she would NOT go anywhere without either her dad's, her mum's or her uncle Gaz's hand. Having her tiny chubby fingers gripping onto two of her dad's fingers as he guides her up big steps. Catching her when she accidentally slips on the slippery steps.

❥ The rest of the Taskforce being behind her like a bunch of guard dogs, ain't nobody is gonna try and scare her because of the big burly men next to her. Photo was provided by my favorite artist last Halloween, @puff0o0:

❥ Ghostie having the sweetest voice ever, she so polite, so much so that she makes the her dad and uncles chuckle at her. (This is how I imagined her voice to sound like)

"Say trick or treat.." Gaz whispers, coaching her from behind as someone from the house opens the door. Two women in costumes, holding a big candy bowl.

"trwick or trweat.." Little Ghostie mumbles, far too shy and almost hiding behind her uncle.

"What a cute costume you have there, here, take these ones" one of the women said, adding the candy to Ghostie's little basket.

"Thank you!" Ghostie exclaims, making the two girls awe at her politeness and eagerness.

❥ Yeah Ghostie definitely pronounces Halloween as "Ha-Hoween".

❥ I can't help but think that they came across that one house with a sign that said "leave your single dad's number if he's attractive" and as a joke, uncle Gaz threw in a piece of paper with peepaw Price's number on it, only to have peepaw Nikolai fish it out of the candy bowl when he thought no one could see him.. but Ghostie did.

Not Halloween related:

❥ Safe to say that when uncle Gaz doesn't like someone, neither does Ghostie, if you all can recall that cutscene from mw3, Gaz did NOT even bother to acknowledge Philip's existence. That being said, Ghostie gives the nastiest side-eyes to him the moment he even opens his mouth. (Yeah she got from her dad)

❥ Ghostie absolutely loves getting head pats and giving them, to her, it's one of the best forms of praise. Anyone gives her head pats gets to witness her absolutely adorable reaction, the way her eyes light up, those little lips curling into a smile causing her chubby cheeks to be prominent and her eyes squinting. Mostly loves doing it to uncle Soap, because the mohawk is fluffy.

❥ Maybe at some point, when Philip decides to behave then he can earn the head pats from Ghostie.

❥ Meals with the Taskforce and Ghostie are a certified hit, she has quite the appetite and she shows it. Simon takes it upon himself to always does what his wife does at home when he's out with Ghostie, bringing her silicone bib and baby utensils. (Even the bulky ass highchair attachment that he keeps in that back of his car/truck)

"More please..." Ghostie says, making grabby hands, in the middle of chewing after observing that her plate is yet again empty.

Price chuckles, looking at Simon who was now careful about the amount of food to add on Ghostie's plate because the toddler is on her third round of food.

❥ Ghostie enjoys clapping her hands and anything as well, especially after eating and being satisfied.

❥ Ghostie is into tea, her dad got her hooked on it.

"Aye, what about you Ghostie? What'd you like?" Soap asks the little one who's currently keeping herself busy with her custom coloring book.

"Tea!" She says, looking up for a bit to Soap before focusing back on her coloring.

"You heard her Johnny, make that two.." Simon says with a pretty firm pat on the back for Soap.

"Fuckin' Brits..."

❥ Auntie Farah and uncle Alex are the babysitters when uncle Gaz, uncle Soap and peepaw Price ain't around. Farah loves that kid to death, if she was being honest, she saw a lot of resemblance between Simon and Ghostie. Of course there are looks were, she's basically a carbon copy of him but also mannerisms;

❥ Ghostie who copies her dad, being adamant about being cleanly and tidy, oftentimes catching people surprised that she tidies up after herself immediately after playing before moving onto another set of toys, coloring books and coloring materials. She notices and mirrors how Simon is consistent in keeping things tidy and out the way.

❥ Whenever Ghostie is at home with her momma (you) and Simon had to run errands, she always wakes up first, seeing how her dad gets up early too.

Ghostie rises up with a soft yawn, rubbing her tiny eyes with her hands, she looked around at the still dimly lit room. She turned her head from side to side looking for her dad.

She was met by him standing and dressing himself up in a black hoodie to go out and buy something. She gives him that cheek to cheek smile before leaning her cheek and closing her eyes, mandatory kiss from dad before he left.

"Alright pumpkin, dada's leaving now. I'll be back later, be good and don't give momma a hard time.." Simon reminded her after giving her cheek a kiss.

"Okay dada- promise.." Ghostie yawns mid sentence.

❥ Ghostie who, ever since she way younger, loved to cup her dad's face and nuzzle her nose into his. A tradition that Simon doesn't know if he's ready to see it go when she grows up. Neither is he ready for her to start correcting the words she's been pronouncing wrong;

❥ Dad!Simon whose heart broke once he realizes that the "I love you"s will slowly start to be less and less when she becomes a teen, he's silently wishing to himself that it won't be reduced to not being said at all. You had to reassure him that it won't happen, not when Ghostie's the sweetest little girl anyone could ask for and Simon is the best dad anyone could as for.

❥ Uncle Alejandro and uncle Rudy being the seasoned uncles who happened to be absolutely adored by Ghostie, not as much as uncle Gaz but let's be real here, no one is on uncle Gaz's level.

❥ Uncle Alejandro and uncle Soap having bets and arguments on who gets to reach their language to Ghostie while she just sits there on uncle Rudy's lap, sipping on her apple juice, quite entertained.

❥ YOU CANNOT TELL ME THAT RUDY ISN'T RESPONSIBLE FOR GETTING HER TO SLEEP OR NAP, that man is a walking heater. I can just see him standing there while holding her in his arms while she's trying her hardest not to fall asleep, yawning "Uncle Rudy.." before immediately snoring, snuggling her face into his soft blue hoodie shirt. (@icarustypicalfall is living for this, I just know it)

❥ Alejandro who gets smacked in the back of the head by (his husband) Rudy for being too loud and almost waking Ghostie up. (Alerudy when? This is a joke to y'all Alerudy haters, I like the ship, it's cute. Not sure if it's canon here in my AU, up to you guys to decide)

❥ Laswell and her wife absolutely fucking adore Ghostie, shit she makes them want to have kids, she has almost the same effect on almost everyone. Silently making her uncle Gaz wish that he isn't single.

❥ Let's be real here, peepaw Nikolai was the one who Ghostie jammed with while listening to heavy metal. He also got her this mini leather jacket that matched his, with her nationality country/countries flag/s embroidered patch on the side. I can just imagine her little head bangs that peepaw nik taught her 🥺😭.

❥ Also Ghostie has access to almost everyone's prized stuff, uncle Gaz's and peepaw Price's hats, uncle Soap's medals and even peepaw Nik's jacket which looks like she's swimming in it when she's wearing it.

❥ This pic is so Dad!Simon and Ghostie coded:

❥ Something tells me that Simon would send you this pic and you'd probably have a heart attack, your husband isn't the best driver after all but you trust him since he won't put your daughter in imminent danger.

❥ I think most of the time, Ghostie is in her uncle Gaz's arms and/or lap while he sits on the passenger seat, doesn't really matter who's driving.

My past works on Ghostie, in case you haven't seen the posts before this one on my most favorite mini Ghost:

Little Ghost (Drabble)

TF141 Interacting with Little Ghost Hcs

This was far longer than I expected, I just love Ghostie so much and I just have a lot to say regarding her.

A/n: This is now an official taglist for most of my generic CoD works, none of these people asked to be tagged on my mediocre content and I understand that, if y'all wanna be removed from the taglist then y'all could tell me privately or on the replies if you guys prefer it :))

Sidenote: Is it normal to be so excited over something you bought? I literally bought my first ever concealer today, a mascara that I've been looking for and lip oil. I was so excited that I squealed when I got home and immediately used them. Any makeup tips that you guys have? Sort of a beginner at this stuff.. Also does anyone whose had viral posts ever feel like their popular strike is over because none of their works get as much attention? Looking at all my recent posts and hyperventilating because the numbers are lower by so much.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

blue butterflies

pairing: jackson! joel miller x reader

cws/tags: 1st person pov joel, angst, discussions of sex trafficking/sexual assault, death, mild smut, au where nothing bad happens between ellie and joel, author has not played tlou 2 yet (donate to kofi lmao), guns, alcohol consumption, light enemies to lovers, cordyceps works different in this one (more predictable and slower-acting)

summary: joel's letter to reader

a/n: i watched the beginning of tlou (joel playing guitar) and it made me cry so hard. so, this is inspired by that, but also i listened to funeral by arcade fire and for emma, forever ago by bon iver while writing this. neighborhood #4 (7 kettles) by arcade fire makes me cry so hard.

wc: 5.7k

taglist: @gothcsz @harriedandharassed @withonly-sweetheart

thank you to @jennaispunk for beta reading/proofreading !

join my taglist | purchase a commission

divider is from @danowh0re

playlist for fic: required listening!!

I thought therapy was a bunch of bullshit - a scam at worst, a waste of my time at best. But, since you left us, Tommy’s been making me go. He keeps saying, ‘it’s what she would’ve wanted’, and I think it is. But, that doesn’t mean I like it. 

My therapist told me if I’m not gonna talk to her about my past, I should at least talk to someone. I told her I’d talk to you, if you were here. She told me it was a good idea, that I should write it out in a letter. She told me I could write to you, or to Sarah, but I figured I’d better write to you ‘cause there’s some things a daughter shouldn’t hear about her dad. Even - especially - the most fun times he’s had. I’ll get to those later. 

Did you know I hated you when we first met? I never told you, but I think you knew. I thought you were a self-important, entitled bitch who acted like she’d been through hell when I knew she hadn’t because of how well-adjusted she seemed. I thought you had some sort of unearned valor. I know that’s not the right way to put it. I think the word I’m looking for is ‘respect’. Tommy, Maria, even Ellie were so quick to respect you when I had to earn it. 

“The reason people don’t like you is because you’re an asshole,” you told me. “You’re fucking scary when you’re mad, too.”

“What’s that saying? It’s better to be feared than to be loved?”

“That’s what Machiavelli said, but that doesn’t mean he’s right.”

I think he was wrong. I was jealous of how much everyone loved you, and they didn’t love me because they feared me. You were so fucking right, and that was one of the things that I hated most about you. 

I used to think about how young you were in comparison to an old man like me, how you were only a little younger than Sarah would’ve been, and how stupid I would’ve felt if Sarah was always outsmarting me. Until I remembered all the times that Sarah did just that, and how much I loved her for it, rather than in spite of it. (Note to self: tell Sarah this in your letter to her). 

That’s not to say I loved you, not yet. I did love you, but I realized that a little later. I had to learn to like you first. 

Do you remember our first day out on patrol together? I begged Tommy to change my schedule. I would rather have spent my time with anyone else in the community -- Hell, I would’ve asked Tommy to give you a day off if it’d get me out of having to work alongside you. 

You overheard me talking to Tommy, and said to me, “You could at least wait until I’m out of earshot to bitch about me, you know?”

“I know,” I said. 

And we didn’t talk for almost the whole shift. Well, I didn’t talk, but you kept on talking, almost like you were talking to yourself. You didn’t even care that I was ignoring you. 

“It’s okay. I don’t like people either.”

“Who says I don’t like people?”

“Your face, your voice, basically your whole demeanor.”

You were so honest, and you had every right to be. It shut me right back up again. I don’t know if that’s what you wanted. Maybe you thought provoking me would make me talk, but I’m a stubborn, old asshole. I don’t think you need me to tell you that.  

“What did I do to piss you off?” You asked, after I gave you what you viewed as the silent treatment, and what I saw as peace and quiet. 

“Nothing. I just think you’re a little bit... egotistical.”

“So are you. You think you know everything.”

“No, but I know more than you. You haven’t got half the experience I have, and believe me, kid, you don’t want it.”

“You’re so melodramatic. And for what? Has the brooding bad boy behavior gotten you laid yet?”

For your information, yes, it had absolutely gotten me laid.  

But before I could tell you that, you stopped me, looked me dead in the eye, and said, “and by the way, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Tell me, then.”

“Tell you what?”

“About all the horrors you’ve experienced. If I’m so wrong, then prove it.” I challenged you because I thought you wouldn’t be able to come up with anything. I wouldn’t have said that if I’d known what I do now. 

You were so angry that you laughed at me. “Fuck you. You don’t deserve to know shit about me.”

A couple weeks later we knew each other’s whole life stories. I told you more than I’ve ever told anyone else, more than I think I ever will tell anyone else. It started when we got lost in the woods together. We were arguing as usual, and we only got ourselves even more lost. The sun was starting to go down, and I could see it in your eyes - you were getting scared. Maybe, for a second, I took some sort of satisfaction in knowing that you were the one who couldn’t handle it, but I’m still human - it feels a little cruel saying that now - so I wasn’t gonna let you suffer. 

“It’s not gonna do us any good to keep arguing, so can we agree to drop it?”

“Truce,” you said, holding out your hand, and when I shook it, you added, “but let it be known that you surrendered.”

“Don’t push it. You know if we stay out here long enough that we have to resort to eating each other’s flesh, you’re gonna be my dinner, not the other way around.”

“I hope I taste good.” 

You did, baby. You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. 

I think we had our first date that night. Sort of. It was late when we got back. Most people were asleep, and the bar was closed, but you had the key. 

“Tommy gave you a spare key?”

“Uh-huh. I assumed you had one too, but I guess I’m the favorite.”

“You’re prettier than me. Of course, you are.” 

I still can’t believe I said that -- I wasn’t even drinking yet. I can be a real idiot when I’m talking to a beautiful woman. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You looked very pretty when you bothered to wash your hair last week.”

“I wash my hair, okay? Sorry I’m old and don’t wake up looking like a supermodel.”

“Who does?”

“I know you want me to say ‘you’, but I’m not taking the bait.”

“That’s okay. I know you’re thinking it, and that’s what matters.”

I was thinking much more than that, darling. 

You walked behind the counter, and asked me, “what do you drink?”, and I think that was the moment I knew I liked you. You could’ve --should’ve -- told me to fuck off. You had other friends (not that we were quite ‘friends’), but you chose me that night. I was a real fixer-upper of a companion, but maybe you liked a challenge. 

“Whiskey. Neat.”

You gave me that look -- that fuckin’ look -- that raised eyebrow and a tiny smirk. And it made me feel like a teenager caught staring at his crush. 

“Please and thank you," I added. 

You got up on the stool behind the bar, grabbed the bottle on the top shelf, and said, “you deserve it.”

“No, I don’t,” I said. “But I’ll take it.”

You sat beside me, and sipped your whiskey. (And you looked pretty hot doing it.) After a good minute of silence you said, “thank you for not killing me and eating me in the woods.”

“I’d get pretty goddamn bored if I didn’t have you yapping in my ear constantly.”

“I thought you hated it.”

“Only sometimes.”

“Then, why don’t you ever talk to me?”

“I’m talking to you right now.”

“Barely.”

So, I turned to you, put my elbow on the counter, laid my head in my hand, and gave you the same face you were giving me. I tried to pretend I was mocking you, but I think you knew I was trying to practice being more likable, being more like you. 

“Tell me something,” you said.

“What do you want me to tell you?”

“Tell me about you.”

“My name is Joel Miller-”

“We’re not at AA.”

“You’re goddamn right we’re not. This would be the shittiest AA meeting ever.”

“Okay, okay. How about you tell me when your birthday is?”

“September 26th, 1981.”

“So, you’re a Libra.”

“Oh c’mon, tell me you’re not into that shit. I was finally starting to tolerate you.”

“I’m a Cancer.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Cancer like the crab, not like the disease!”

“Mm-hmm. I’m sure you’re familiar with crabs as well.”

I got a laugh and a smack on the arm in return, and the laugh was worth the smack. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know you can’t help being an asshole, so at least you’re making me laugh.”

I didn’t realize your hand was still on my arm until you asked me, “What’d you do before this? You’ve got nice arm muscles.”

“I worked in construction, I was a contractor.”

“Like a carpenter?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s what Jesus was. I bet he had good arm muscles.”

“I don’t think that’s his most notable feature, but sure, why not?”

Despite the fact that we were talking all things Jesus, you were feeling me up. And you weren’t subtle about it at all. 

“Do you wanna play darts?” you asked, breaking the tension.

“Okay.”

You walked up to the dartboard all confident, and I expected an instant bullseye. You’d only had one drink and you were focusing so hard, practicing the swing of your arm like a golfer would. The first shot missed the board entirely.

And that’s when I learned you were awful at darts. 

“You’re terrible at this.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then, why’d you ask me to play?”

“For fun. Plus, how else am I gonna get better?”

You weren’t even close to the bullseye. You weren’t even hitting the board at all half the time. Over the next couple of years, you got better, not a lot better -- I still won every game we ever played -- but you got closer. But, close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, as they say. It probably counts in terms of people too -- I like to think our closeness counted for something, even if it couldn't last forever.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty," I said.

“You’re lucky you’re good at darts," you fired back.

“Is that an insult? Because I’m holding a sharp object and I’ve got good aim.” And with that, I threw the final dart, hit the bullseye, and won. “What do I get?”

“For what?”

“Winning.”

“You get to keep your pride.”

I was happy with that, but you turned back to me, stepped closer and whispered, “and this,” before you kissed me. 

I don’t know which one of us was more nervous. All I knew was that I liked you a lot more when you were quiet. All I heard from you was a little gasp when I lifted you onto the counter so I could keep kissing you without having to lean down and hurt my back ‘cause I’m an old man. I really thought my brooding bad boy look was gonna get me laid again that night, but you stopped me before I could get your top off. 

“Uh-uh,” you said. “You’re gonna have to do more than beat me at darts if you want more than a kiss.”

“Fair enough. What’s your price?”

“I’m not a hooker.”

I didn’t understand why you looked so upset until that day by the water when you told me. I’m sorry I said that, I really am.

“Sorry. What I should’ve said is, ‘Can I take you to dinner on Friday?’”

You gave me a nonchalant ‘sure’, and I assumed you’d keep it hush-hush, but you bragged about getting asked out. Why would you brag about me? That's something I still don't understand.

The next day, I went and asked Tommy for advice because I hadn’t dated in a long time, and he’s more of the romantic type. I thought our dinner date would be news to him, but you’d already told him. 

“Yeah, I know. She came in here asking for advice too actually.” 

He’s got a bigger mouth than you do. That’s why you two got along so well -- you were like those little old ladies gossiping at the hair salon. 

“What’d she say?”

“I’m sworn to secrecy.”

But Tommy always had a certain loyalty to you. He keeps your secrets to this day -- some of ‘em. 

“Give me some advice, please.”

“You were married once. You won a woman’s heart. Just do what you did back then.”

“I think you’re forgetting the fact that my marriage ended in divorce.”

“Just be yourself.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Yeah, it is. How about smiling for once?”

I tried, but I’d almost forgotten how to over the years. 

Tommy feigned disgust and said, “I take it back. Keep your usual pissed-off look.”

You taught me how to smile again. I don’t know that you meant to do it, but you did. Tommy says he knows when I’m thinking about you because of the way I smile. 

When I came over to pick you up for dinner, you opened the door wearing a bathrobe with your hair in curlers. I guess I was looking at you funny because you made sure to tell me, “Don’t worry, I’m not wearing this out. Go sit in the living room.”

“I’m not worried. You look beautiful already.”

“I do not. I look like my grandmother.”

“I imagine she must’ve been a hot commodity then.”

“She was actually -- or at least, that’s the story she used to tell us. She was Prom Queen and all that jazz.”

You could talk for hours, about anything. I could say one word and you could give me a tangentially related 20 minute long monologue. You were a good storyteller. I don’t think I ever told you this, but I used to think about how you’d be great at making up stories for our kids one day -- if we ever had them. I know I told you I didn’t want to have any, but that’s one of the few lies I told you. I was too scared to imagine that kind of a future with you. 

I had you in the present, and that’s what I cared about. I don’t remember what you wore that night because I spent most of our date looking at your face, trying to memorize every dimple, freckle or scar I could see. All the details.

I’m sure your dress fit perfectly, but what I cared about was how your hand felt when I took it in mine as we walked to the restaurant -- it felt right, more so with our fingers intertwined on the way home. 

It was one of the longest dinner dates in my not-so-long history of dating as it took you quite a while to finish your meal because you don’t talk with your mouth full (usually). I think our waitress was mad that we were there for so long. They were cleaning up by the time you were done eating. 

I don’t remember all the things you said. Even if I did, I don’t have enough paper to write it all down. But I do remember when you asked me, “Can I tell you a secret?” 

“Sure.” 

“This is my first date.”

I would’ve been less surprised if you’d told me you’d killed someone.

“Mine too,” I said. 

“Liar! Tommy said you were married... before all of this.”

“Does Tommy tell you everything about me?”

“No. He wouldn’t tell me when your birthday was. That’s why I asked you.”

“That’s ‘cause he forgot it.”

Really, I wanted to know if he told you about Sarah, or if I’d have to do it myself. Both. As it turned out, he told you before we ever really met. I told you by the river, but that came later. 

When I walked you home, we lingered by your door, and when I leaned in to kiss you goodnight, you turned your head, and I should’ve realized how special you were to me ‘cause I felt my heart sink. But, you asked me to come inside. You were always shy about kissing in public, but not on your living room couch. 

When we were inside, you let me take off your dress, but only after I agreed to take off my shirt. 

“Jesus,” you said when you watched me undress. 

“We talked enough about Jesus last time. It’s about you and me now, baby.”

I learned to be a gentleman growing up in Texas, that wining and dining a lady includes putting her first in the bedroom too. But you called the shots -- that night and all of the others we had together. You got down on your knees and gave me the most irresistible face. It was embarrassing how quickly I came. It’s still embarrassing, and you’re not even here to tease me about it anymore. I thought I’d get the chance to prove myself to you that night, but you stopped me. I remembered what you said, ‘this is my first date’, and I assumed you were a virgin. 

It was about a week later when I was trying to teach you how to skip rocks in the river that I asked you if you were one. 

“It’s not a big deal if you are -- not to me, I mean. I just figured maybe because you said that was your first date.”

“It’s kind of a long story, so take a seat if you want the answer.”

I don’t know what I expected you to say, but I already felt like I’d fucked up by asking. I didn’t want to make this mess I’d gotten myself into worse than it already was, so I sat next to you and waited for you to speak. 

“It’s not actually a long story, I guess. Just a sad one.”

It was the first sad story you told me, and you told me more stories than I’d ever been told by anyone else at this point. It was impressive how many happy ones you held onto, especially after everything that you told me that day. 

You didn’t look at me while you spoke. You mumbled and picked at the grass beneath you. Like a child. 

“I’m not a virgin, but I wasn’t lying when I said that was my first date. There’s just some stuff that you don’t know about me... ‘cause I didn’t want you to know these things about me. But it’s not like I was ever gonna get away with not telling you. It’s better that it happens now anyway.”

You started to cry, so I put my hand on your shoulder, but you shrugged it off. I was so used to the one doing the pushing away that being pushed away was jarring. 

“Before I came to Jackson, I used to do things for money. Those sorts of things. It’s not like I wanted to, ‘cause I’m not like that, you know.”

You explained how you’d lost both your parents by the time you were 16 and didn’t have any siblings, so you ended up with whatever friends you could find. Some of the few good people that were left. 

“There was a group of men who killed my friends just to loot their pockets, but they realized that it’d be more profitable to keep me alive.”

“So they forced you to...”

“Have sex for supplies, yeah. One of them was my first time, I guess. They did that stuff for a while, but once I’d been with a decent amount of men, they decided I was too ‘used up’ or something to be worth having sex with. I can’t decide if that made me feel better or worse. On the one hand, I didn’t have to have sex with them anymore, but I was also too gross to be wanted.”

“’Used up’ is bullshit. Back when the world was a little more civilized, those bastards could’ve gone to jail.”

“They’re dead.”

“Did you kill ‘em?”

“No, but I thought about it all the time. I remember thinking about strangling a man once. He was alone, so no one would’ve seen me do it, and the guys could’ve taken all of his shit too. They probably would’ve been happy if I had. I think that’s why I didn’t.”

“If you didn’t kill them, then how did they die?”

It probably wasn’t appropriate for me to pry, but the sadistic part of me needed to know that they got what was coming for them. I needed to know there was some justice left in this world. 

“They wanted food from some guy who’d gone hunting and they tried to sell me to him, but he said ‘no’. He looked so offended that I thought I was pissed off ‘cause they’d given him a bad deal... but he shot the one standing in front of him. Then, he yelled at me to turn around and I was sure I was gonna die, but I heard him walk into the other room, another shot, and when the third walked in from outside, another shot. He walked over to me, and I started crying and begging him not to kill me. He told me he wasn’t going to, but he made me close my eyes while he led me out of the house.”

“’Cause he didn’t want you to see the bodies.”

“Yeah... and I still thought he was going to kill me, even when he took me with him on his horse, and said he was taking me back to some place called ‘Jackson’.” 

I don’t know if I would say you got a happy ending, at least, not the one you deserved, but I saw a hint of a smile when you mentioned Jackson. And you didn’t have to tell me who the man was -- I know him well. 

“Tommy,” I said, confident in my guess.

“Yeah.”

After I dropped you off at home, I went by his place and thanked him. And then I went home and cried. For the first time in a decade.

“You know it doesn’t change how I feel about you, right?”

“How do you feel about me?”

“I like you… most of the time.” 

What I meant was, I love you. I just didn’t know it yet. 

“I guess I owe you a story too, then.”

“You don’t owe me anything... but you can tell me whatever you want.”

I think part of me wanted to tell you, or at least, part of me wanted you to know. “I had a daughter.”

“I know.”

I should’ve known, considering how close you and Tommy were.

“Tommy told you, didn’t he?”

“To be fair to him, he told me he had a niece.”

“Yeah, he did. She’d be a little older than you. It’s crazy to think that she’d be in her 30s when the last time I saw her she was 13.”

“I know saying ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t really do anything, but I’m still sorry”

“In a way, I’m glad she doesn’t have to see all these things. All the infected. She died before we ever had to go to a QZ.”

When you told me about the first QZ you lived in as a kid, it confirmed that for me. It pained me to hear about you watching your dad get bitten and leaving him behind, saying goodbye without knowing he was dying -- in one way or another. 

You told me later about how the only person you’d ever killed was your own mother, how she used to sell herself like you did, how you missed the first shot and you saw how scared she was to die. I think you had it worse than I did. 

“I think she was mostly scared because she knew I couldn’t do shit with a gun, and that I’d end up surviving the way that she did... and she was right.”

“Neither of you deserved it, and I bet she’d be proud of you now.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I’m proud of you.”

You cried, but you finally let me hold you. You cried so long that I thought you’d never stop. 

Do you remember your last day? I told you I wanted to be with you until the end, but you reminded me about your mother. You told me that even if a shot to the head had to be the way you went out, I wasn’t going to be there to give it to you. We had two choices: either wait until that day came or let you go before then. I said I wanted to go with you. I wanted to ask Tommy to give me the same cocktail he was gonna cook up for you. You said no. It was your last wish that I stayed. 

“I don’t wanna live without you.”

“I don’t wanna die, but I don’t get to choose. If I could live longer, I would. But just because I’m dying doesn’t mean you get to leave everyone else behind.”

Yeah, you brought Ellie into it. I wanted to tell you not to bring her up. I’m glad you did because as much as it hurt to think about her watching me die the way that I watched you die, it made me stay. I’m glad I stayed. Things are okay, but our last day is still my favorite day. 

We got up early and watched the sunrise, and I told you I loved you for the first time.

“I know,” you said with a smile on your face. 

“How?” 

You just lifted your coffee cup. When you moved in -- something I didn’t realize was happening ‘till it had already happened -- I started making coffee every morning before you woke up, and I started buying that French Vanilla bullshit creamer. I hated it. It was so sweet it made me nauseous. I could’ve gone and bought my own, but I’m still stubborn, I’m still a cheapskate, I’m still me -- even without you (which is something I thought I’d never be able to say). But that wasn’t why I started taking my coffee the same way you took yours.

It was one day when you’d already left for work but my shift didn’t start until later. I hadn’t slept at all the night before -- and not for any good reason, not for more time with you -- so I was tired when I woke up. I made myself some coffee, but I wasn’t even thinking straight, so I hadn’t noticed that I had put that creamer in my mug until I tasted it. But I wasn’t disgusted. I thought maybe you’d left yours behind and I’d absent-mindedly picked the wrong one up off the counter -- I very well could’ve gotten caught up in putting the toaster on the right settings (that’s something we could never agree on) -- but when I looked down, it was my mug. Yours was dirty in the sink. You were gone for the day. I was stupid to think otherwise. I was fantasizing. That was new. 

So, just as I am right now, I take my morning coffee like you took yours. It tastes like you, like you kissing me. 

I waited anxiously for you to say you loved me too. 

“Are you not gonna say it back? Do you not-- do you feel the same?”

“What do you think?”

“I hope so.”

You gestured for me to come closer so you could whisper in my ear and I thought maybe you’d give me a wet willy. But you said, “Joel Miller, I have loved you for a long time.”

I didn’t say anything. I don’t think I’ve ever been very good with words -- talking was your thing. I grabbed your hand and squeezed. We went out onto the porch and sat in silence. I wonder what you were thinking about. 

“Will you sing me something?”

You know I don’t take requests, and you know I don’t like an audience, no matter how small that audience is. 

No one would refuse the wish of a dying woman, but I couldn’t refuse you even if I knew you’d be there tomorrow and every day after. I only protest because you look cute when you beg. Not in that way -- you look hot when you beg like that. 

“What song do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

I sang Peaceful Easy Feeling because, as much as a part of me felt a sense of urgency, knowing our time was running out, most of me was just thinking about you, and I love you. Simple as that. 

You gave me a standing ovation just to see me blush. 

We all planned something special for your last dinner. I know you like simple things, so I tried to make it as simple as I could while still making it special for you. Maybe it was selfish to make it a night to remember when I’m the one who gets to remember it. 

Tommy and Maria were chef and sous-chef (you can guess who was who in that scenario), and Ellie was the waitress. 

“What are your specials tonight?” you asked. 

“We have either the steak and baked potato or the steak without the baked potato.”

“In that case, I’d like it with the baked potato.”

We probably lit a hundred candles to fill the room with enough light to see each other -- we had time while you were getting ready, since you’re a bit of a slowpoke. We picked flowers from the garden and put them in an empty wine bottle because we couldn’t find a vase, and conjured up a decent tablecloth. We had ice cream sundaes for dessert -- or at least, you did. You know what I had for dessert. 

“How about you, sir, would you like anything for dessert?” Ellie asked. 

“No, I think I’ll be having dessert when we get home.” I tried to subtly wink at you. 

“Ew! That’s disgusting. I don’t wanna hear about your sex life.”

“You’re the one assuming I was talking about sex. How do you know I don’t have a tub of ice cream waiting for me in the freezer at home?”

There was ice cream in the freezer, but the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted was between your legs. The moment we got home I picked you up bridal style and carried you up to our bedroom. 

“Baby, I know how long you spent getting ready, and I’m sorry to do this to you, but this needs to come off,” I said before I yanked down the zipper of your dress. You laughed as I ripped off your clothes. 

You gently undid my tie and when I watched you fumble with the buttons on my shirt, I said, “Just rip it, baby.”

“I don’t wanna ruin your clothes.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me or my clothes tonight. I want you to have me however you want me.”

“You’ll do whatever I want?”

“Within reason.”

“How do you feel about roleplay?”

“I suppose it depends -- what are the roles?”

“Husband and wife.”

“As long as I can be the husband.”

And then you kissed me -- with your typical tenderness but a new level of dedication. Slow and passionate, showing me what our lives could’ve been like. 

“I’m an impatient husband, and I want my beautiful wife to lie down because I think I’m gonna lose my mind if I don’t get to taste her.”

My mouth is useless when it comes to talking, but we both know I have other uses for it. I tried to go slowly, but I couldn't help myself. I swear your pussy was so perfect it made me reconsider my views on God. Though, I don’t think I am a man deserving of an angel. I think I just got lucky. 

That night I couldn’t care less about how loud you were. “Joel- fuck- you’re gonna have to slow down, or, or, put your hand over my mouth ‘cause - oh!”

“’Cause you don’t want anyone to hear? What’s the problem with them hearing, darlin’? Married couples make love all the time, it’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Without a condom, too. We weren’t worried about you getting pregnant, so we went out with the best bang of ‘em all. I think the last time I’d done it like that was when Sarah was conceived, and based on how easy that was, I was always cautious. 

Husband and wife roleplay wasn’t very different from the sex we typically had. I guess we were really only a piece of paper and wedding bands away from being those ‘characters’. 

Earlier that day, I was worried I wouldn’t sleep that night. I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to savor every moment with you but when you curled up in my arms I fell asleep before I could even consider staying awake. 

Waking up next to you was my last clear image, even our goodbye kiss was a little blurry ‘cause I was already a little teary-eyed. 

But before that, over breakfast, you mentioned something that I’ve thought about every day since. 

“You know how sometimes people see a bird or something and they’re like ‘oh, that’s my dead relative’?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll come back as a butterfly. One of the blue ones. You don’t see those too often. I don’t want to be something too common, like a bird, then you’ll probably mistake someone else for me.”

I don’t think I had seen a blue butterfly in Jackson until after you’d left us, but there’s one outside my window right now. 

In case it’s you, I’ll read this all aloud. 

Forever yours, 

Joel 

[reidingandwriting]

latched on > keigo takami/hawks (mha)

Word Count: 1.3k

Ship: Sub!Keigo Takami (Hawks) x Dom!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut (very loose term), mentions of abuse from the hero commission, mentions of call girls (if you squint), mention of violence (also if you squint), allusion to sub drop

A/N: Baby’s first attempt at writing some attempt at smut, I may try and do a full smut with sub!hawks later, I love my whimpering baby bird <3

how did he go from feeling so, so good to so, so stupid in the matter of minutes?

he was in bliss not even five minutes ago, whining out mixes of your name and high keens of mommy! as you worked him through another orgasm.

bottoming was new for keigo. he had never had anyone he trusted enough to tell about his desires, with the commissions grip on him. his list of ‘approved partners’ who were vetted by the commission and could (would) be… handled properly if they were to spill any details about the number two pro hero. keigo rarely ever called them, never satisfied from the basic hookups they provided, wanting so much more from his partner that he was terrified to vocalize. hero work was so demanding, he wanted to turn his mind off and just. let someone else make the decisions for him. but that required trust, and he never had that with anyone. and then he met you.

you were a PA at his agency, and as time passed, keigo found himself captivated by you. drawn to the way you treated him as if he was any other civilian. like yeah, you recognized him as a hero and what he did. you knew your work hours would be hectic due to his hours, yet you never complained. never seemed to mind really, always greeting him with a soft smile and some form of jab about him ‘messing up your beauty sleep’. which would turn into flirty banter, little jokes, and during late nights, sleepy giggles and conversations keigo would remember forever.

the shift happened when you were a plus one to a gala with him.

‘i’m not your boss right now, stop looking so tense,’ keigo teased as he rested a comforting hand on your shoulder. ‘just think of me as your smoking hot arm candy’ you laughed at his comment and rolled your eyes.

‘okay, pretty bird’ you cooed to the hero and you bit back a grin at the way his wings puffed up from the nickname. your hand met his cheek, and you turned his head to face you. golden eyes seemed to be darker, pupils dilated as he focused on the sparkling necklace you wore. ‘if only my arm candy would pay attention to me’ you pouted and keigo’s gaze met yours.

‘how could i look away?’

from there, there had been an obvious shift in your relationship with the hero. casual touches turned into lingering, intentional touches. behind the safety of his office doors, “hawks” was occasionally replaced by ‘pretty boy/bird’ and keigo had to keep from whining every time the teasing nickname left your upturned lips.

he wasn’t sure exactly what shifted that got keigo in this situation. but he found himself pinned under you, writhing under your touch. gentle touches, firm grabs. feather light touches that left him begging for more, hard grips that had him squirming and thrashing, threats of tying him down only exciting him more.

he was beautiful, you kept telling him. which he heard from fans every day, he knew he was attractive. but hearing it from you? a whole other feeling. whimpering each time ‘look so pretty, birdie’ or ‘my beautiful boy, gonna cry for me?’ and ‘my good boy, so good for me’ slipped from your lips. his breaking point? your fingers gently lifting his chin up so his teary gaze met yours, peppering his face with kisses and whispering in his ear ‘wanna see you cum, songbird. deserve it, pretty boy, i’ll take care of you. just let go’

and god did he let go. strings of white spurted from his cock, over your hands, over his stomach, but keigo was too spent to care. he was truly fucked Stupid, basking from your coos as you talked him down, your hands petting him as he calmed down. suddenly, there was a shift in the mattress and keigo couldn’t stop himself from grabbing your arm, panic filling his body as he begged you not to leave him, he’ll be good, please stay, please let him stay, and he felt his grip on you tighten. and there’s where he made his biggest mistake. he couldn’t let go.

“it’s okay, birdie. i’ll be right back, just gonna get something to clean you up.” you soothed and you frowned lightly as his grip didn’t relent. “hawks?”

keigo flinched from the use of his hero name, missing the nicknames that you called him just a minute ago. “i-i’m sorry. ‘m so sorry, i can’t-“ keigo started to hyperventilate and you were on him in a second, by his side and pulling him closer to you. keigo curled into your body, face buried in the crook of your neck, and tears burned in his eyes. moments of silence passed until it dawned on you.

“you can’t let go, can you, bub?” you asked and keigo shook his head.

“it, it will stop in a little bit. i just… i thought you were leaving me and. i panicked, i lost control. ‘m so sorry,” keigo whispered and you carded your fingers through his messy hair, smiling as you felt the tension start to leave his body.

“not going anywhere, promise. just wanted to get you a washcloth so we could clean you up a little bit. but i can wait. however long you need, love.” you pressed a kiss to keigo’s head, humming as you slowly rocked him. you figured this could happen, but you thought it was such a small chance, you didn’t really prepare for it. but it was hawks. your hawks, your birdie. you could adapt. you’d take care of him.

a while later, keigo’s grip started to release, and as soon as he was able, keigo pulled his hand away. you tutted at him and took his hand in yours, and you started to massage the hand that had been gripping your arm. keigo found himself staring at the spot he had grasped you, hurt you he’s sure, and you called his name.

“are you okay now?” keigo blinked at the question. “feel up for a shower to clean up?”

“you.. you’re worried about me still? i hurt you.”

“and i just spent god knows how long overstimulating you. probably a little painful, even if it felt good.” you tilted keigo’s head up and pressed a lingering kiss to his plush lips. “i told you, hawks. i care about you, i’m here to take care of you. as long as you’ll let me.” it was your turn to blush, your cheeks burning but you kept keigo’s gaze.

“keigo.” he found himself whispering. “name’s keigo.” you mouthed his name, whispered it to yourself and the prettiest shade of pink covered keigo’s cheeks. “if it’s not gonna be any of your little nicknames, i.. i’d prefer keigo outside of work.”

“well, keigo,” you smiled as you pulled his hand to your lips, kissing over every knuckle. “why don’t we get you cleaned up? then we can come back to bed, order some takeout for dinner? i can make breakfast for us in the morning,” you offered and keigo felt his heart flip in his chest at your offer.

“that sounds perfect.”

an hour later, you were cuddled in bed, keigo on his stomach, head on your stomach as his wing draped over you. his breath hit your stomach, soft puffs leaving his lips as he slept peacefully. you combed through his damp hair, occasionally running your hand down between his shoulder blades just to see his wings flutter and his breathing shake a little. a small smile graced his lips as he slept and you let your eyes close, a matching smile on your lips as you dozed off into the best sleep of your life. you could get used to this…

[nhasablogg]

The end (again)

First of all I want to thank you all for following and engaging with me ever since I returned to this space. It's been, mostly, great. I've written some things I'm really proud of, and for that reason I'm reluctant to delete this blog like I did the last.

I think it's been obvious I've not been enjoying myself in a long time, except for the occasional few days when it's been fun to write and interact with people. Throughout this whole year I've been trying to convince myself that I can use this blog only when I want to and feel inspired to, and while it sometimes works it very often just leaves me frustrated as I try to make this space fun for myself again. I'm gonna try not to be too longwinded about this as I have the habit of being, so long story short, I'm going to leave this blog.

I won't be deleting anything, but I'll also not be using this blog anymore. I was debating just disappearing without saying anything, but I think that's rude when some of you have been so very kind. The one and only exception will be if I feel really inspired and write something I love and would like to share specifically on here (or maybe I'll just post them on AO3 if I feel like it). Since I won't feel pressured to use this blog I'm sure that experience will be authentic and beautiful and rare. I want to focus on writing outside of this space, as I keep putting my energy here and not where I'd like it to be. There are lots of things going on in my life right now and I'd like to try to regain some control by using my free time intentionally in order to become the version of myself I'm striving toward. This blog is, unfortunately, not part of that version.

I still have a few prompts I want to fill, and a few WIPs I want to finish/post anyway, so I'm not disappearing just yet. When I say disappear, I'm not sure if I mean that I won't ever be logged in. I'm not entirely sure yet how I'm going to go about it, if I'm going to answer messages or turn asks off or what. I think, in the long run, asks will be turned off just so that I won't feel the urge to log in for the off chance someone has given me some attention. That's why I deleted the old blog, to keep myself from having one foot in there still.

I want to thank you for the lovely lovely time being back here. It's not been perfect, but that's not what I'm deciding to take with me this time. I want to remember writing Criminal Minds fics and Stranger Things fics and Red White and Royal Blue fics and Heartstopper fics, and how lovely you were about those fics. Revisiting fandoms and finding new ones and completing tickletober and having plans and ambitions for projects (even though I didn't always follow through, it's always nice having ambitions). I don't regret deleting the old blog and I don't regret creating this one. I think I probably needed to return, on my own terms, just like I'm now leaving on my own terms. I don't think I did that last time.

I keep rewriting this and looking at it and wondering if I will regret posting it. If posting it will somehow flip the switch and I will find so much joy here again and look like a fool. And if that happens, so be it. But I need to post this. I can't keep procrastinating. I have, in a way, been working up the nerve to say goodbye for the past year.

If you've ever commissioned a fic, I urge you to save it somewhere because I can't promise I won't randomly delete one day in the future either, if I realize it will be for the better (I guess the same goes for if you enjoy a fic and would like to be able to revisit it - but please don't share it anywhere else).

N over and out (well, once I finish those fics I still want to finish)

[elrielffs]

This is the only fandom that INSIST their head canons and what they desire HAVE to happen.

What happened to crack ships?

What happened to enjoying fanfic?

Here's the thing. No one cares what you ship. No one cares what you want to happen. No one cares about how you view certain things.

It's THE INSISTENCE that rubs.

You like Neris? Okay, but stop insisting Cassian is gonna die or Nesta is gonna reject the bond. Enjoy Neris fanfiction, commission Neris fanart but DON'T back track thru the books to cherry pick sentences out of context to fit your narrative. Don't INSIST on what you FEEL is going to happen IS going to happen and everyone is else dumb cause you've picked up the CRUMBS.

You think Rhysand and the IC are evil? Okay, but SJM obviously did not write with that intent so stop INSISTING they are because YOU don't agree with what they do and you FEEL they are evil.

You like Tamlin/Eris? Great, everyone has their fans, it's not right or wrong but stop INSISTING they didn't do anything bad actually and everything they did was justified. If you like a character fine but like them with all their flaws instead of trying to excuse it or sweep it under the rug. (Also Nesta fans...)

I just don't get why people have this INSISTENCE on what THEY want to happen or how THEY interpret a scene/character rather than what IS happening in the books is that AHA correct one and the rest of the fandom "just doesn't get it?" You don't like the way the story is going? Then stop reading the series.

Stop trying to Frankenstein sentences out of context and fanfiction you've read and confused for canon into a narrative that suits what YOU want to happen.

I get I have bias as well but I only came to that bias BECAUSE OF WHERE THE BOOKS ARE OBVIOUSLY LEADING US. If you have to go back thru a book to find scenes to support what YOU want to happen rather than coming to that conclusion naturally--that should tell you something.

The disregard for canon, the narrative twisting, the sentences out of context, the "well I FEEL", I just don't understand.

There are a BILLION books for the tropes ya'll want yet a portion of this fandom wants to come in and twist THIS book series to get what THEY want when it's readily available somewhere else.

Idk man, I just feel like all this is setting the series up for failure. After 4 years and radio silence, no matter what happens, everyone's gonna be disappointed in one or another and it just makes me sad, frustrated, angry---because this series doesn't deserve people who obviously don't like it to pick it apart and put it back together in their mind to set up for a huge disappointment for themselves cause they didn't like where the books are going.

I know someone's gonna be like "BUT THIS APPLIES FOR ELRIEL TOO" and gentle reader, I'm going to touch your hand when I say this, whether or not Elriel end up together in the end or not, they have clearly been set up to have a story together in some capacity. They have multiple scenes together, other characters have pointed out something weird between them, the bc had a scene where they almost fucked in a hallway--

You don't have to read power point presentations on "ACTUALLY ELRIEL IS CANON CAUSE CASSIAN ORGASMS IS DESCRIBED LIKE MUSIC AND MUSIC IS MATE LANGUAGE" its CLEARLY written on page.

They have canon scenes--other couples do not. Just look at the recent fanart debacle. People HAVE to come up with happy scenes for the other couples because NONE exist in the books for these couples. Elriel's don't have to twist the narrative cause the narrative is there. You don't have to like it, you don't have to ship it, you don't have to think their endgame, but it's there, sorry.

[thejockout]

New File Time! Lifting is Leisure

Alriiiight. Gotta be honest folks, I did have to produce and upload this one in a hurry; I have completed my writing + recording output for 2024 but as of writing this, I have yet to produce/upload them all. This is the first one in the "crunch", so hopefully I'm better prepped for the rest to come.

This file was actually, I believe, born out of a conversation with Avis Sapiens where he used this phrase with me to defend himself lifting on one of his rare days off. He called lifting leisure, and I kinda laughed at the time because it was so muscle-pilled of him, but it also made me think about how lifting can be reframed/enjoyed by so many in different ways.

This file therefore seeks to help YOU reframe lifting the same way. To tie the incremental progress made in each workout to an incremental experience of the pleasure, triumph, success, arousal, or whatever else you believe lies at the end of your bodybuilding journey. It will be of benefit to you if you're seeking to make lifting a habit but haven't quiiite found the momentum yet, OR if you already lift dilligently but just want to enjoy it more. It's a myth that exercise has to be a slog; and in this trance, I'm going to bust it.

(As a final bit of housekeeping, you might notice that there are two versions of this file attached at the bottom of the post, Complex and Simple. Complex is "as Jockout intends" with backing tracks and whispers, a new production element I'm including. Simple is stripped down, just my voice and a binaural/rain sounds. Let me know if you have feedback on the new backing elements.)

CONTENT WARNINGS:

Honestly if you read the description, there is nothing else to add. No real trigger work here besides very soft "you drop for my voice/finger snaps" work at the beginning of the file, and POSSIBLY "soft" trigger work with the gym/weightlifting triggering positive feelings in you.

WARNING: THIS WILL MAKE YOU HUGE?

WARNING: THIS IS GONNA BE A FUN TIME?

WARNING: BRO YOU'RE GONNA GET SO SWOLE

--------------------------------------------------------- https://linktr.ee/jockout When I'm not dropping myself or others, I'm off being a mystical forest bro in the wilderness of Ireland. But I am always available for commissions if you reach out via DM. My flat rate is currently $65-100, but you can check my pinned Tumblr post for more up-to-date info. Keep listening, bros.

[queerfandomtrifecta]

So a lot is bothering me about the narrative structure of season two. If I didn’t have my own novel to work on and didn’t have several more edits commissioned, I’d write a fix-it fic for all of season two to fix the narrative stuff and to really delve into character arcs that felt off. Maybe I will anyway. Idk. If someone who actually has time wants to take any or all of this and write a fic, go for it. Can’t wait to read it. Anyway, this is a very rough outline that’s subject to change if I do write the fic, but from a developmental editing perspective, here’s my two cents nobody asked for on season 2:

Thematic elements: Atonement and coping with trauma, the crew leaving (especially in regards to Stede’s emotional wound where he’s worried about people being better off without him) and identity (especially in regards to Ed/Stede/Izzy). These are present in the show as-is, but they don’t play out well just yet. I’m focusing on these to make things cohesive.

Episodes 1-3: mostly perfect. Loved these and the pacing felt correct for the most part. I would keep the tone from these episodes through the season. Ricky would be introduced here. Zheng is fantastic and all of her stuff stays here.

What I’d change: Ned Low would be the primary antagonist for this season. Ricky would be set up through this season to be the primary antagonist next season. Ned Low’s record is Ed’s original suicide by proxy plan, and that needs to be introduced here. There needs to be a scene showing how Ned tortures people in these episodes. Izzy needs to bring it up as a concern to Ed. Ed doesn’t care about the crew’s safety, obviously, someone (Izzy) needs to mention Ned’s record and possible repercussions here. I’d also NOT play Lucius’s trauma reveal with Stede like a comedy beat. (Like seriously, I HATE that the show played SA as a comedy beat.) Black Pete would be shown crying of Lucius so it’s not just told randomly after the fact. Olu would be shown missing Jim.

Episode 4: The unicorn thing with Izzy was beautiful and I’d keep that. Stede and Ed going to Mary and Anne’s is fine. Buttons can APPEAR to turn into a seagull.

What I’d change: The Kraken Crew and Lucius need to stay paranoid longer. They need to tally things up and realize that Low’s record has been broken (I think Ed was too checked out from reality/high on rhino horn to even realize he’d broken it; Izzy has bigger things going on and likely also lost track) but that record being broken was NEVER shown in the original, just told after the fact. In order to NOT switch to a speculative genre randomly for a convenient metaphor, Buttons appears to turn into a seagull but he doesn’t literally. Revealed to the audience but not to Ed/Stede (more on this later). Stede doesn’t put it to a vote that Ed can come back. He’s the captain and decides that that’s how it’s gonna be. The crew is also gonna look to former first-mate Frenchie (whose trauma is in a box) for direction when Izzy is struggling. It’s Frenchie’s idea about the leg. Izzy is still struggling a little more after his new leg, and I think he should be shown happy at the end but with a bottle of something not far from him (but more in that later).

Episode 5: Ed’s influencer non-apology clearly written by Stede works. Ed and Stede need time apart. The cursed suit can stay for the levity of it. Ed and Fang can go fishing. The moonlight kiss scene works for the most part.

What I’d change: Izzy can be sassy with Lucius, and a bit of a mentor to Stede, but he’s going to be drinking in this episode. Not plastered drunk like ep 4, but it’s gonna clearly be a struggle and everyone is just Not Talking About It. Lucius might start to parallel that a bit and I’d like to see more interaction with them there. I’d also like to see the Kraken Crew (all the crew really) treating Izzy as their captain. Stede says he doesn’t feel like the captain and there should be a reason for that. If he forced them to let Ed back on the boat in ep 4, that can be addressed here. Izzy is following Stede so he can eventually persuade everyone they have to as well, though Izzy’s earned more trust than anyone at this point. I’d delve into him doing for Stede what he did for Ed pre-season one (“massaged the crew” when Ed’s moods seemed off to keep things running (I can’t remember the exact quote past that, but that’s essentially the idea). The Kraken Crew needs to be wary of Ed longer. They do not believe Buttons is a seagull. They all think Ed killed him and Stede says he didn’t see Buttons turn into a seagull, but he takes Ed’s side and doesn’t think Ed killed him. That starts a rift and an “us or Ed” thing that’ll play out later. Ed can try to interact with the crew and get the cold shoulder. He’s done nothing to restore his reputation. As far as the cursed suit goes, I would have them receive some sort of warning from Ned Low when they go to pawn the suit off on the other ship. Stede or/or Izzy would keep it quiet from the crew, who are only just now starting to follow Stede as the captain. Ricky needs to be shown here wanting to end piracy, and interacting with Zheng. After the moonlight kiss, I’d have them holding hands as they walk off. I think maybe Lucius would want to leave the ship here. The Swede and Buttons are gone already, and it makes sense for Lucius to want to leave but Black Pete to want to stay. They’ll both still be on board here though.

Episode 6: Calypso’s Birthday will be the plot for 7/8.

What I’d change: let me preface this by saying I haven’t worked Zheng’s plot fixes out fully. But. If we’re moving this to the next two episodes, something has to happen here. I’d keep the bit with the guilt room and with Ed giving away treasure to the urchins saying don’t be pirates, but have him say more in front of Stede about how piracy is bad for specific reasons that Stede just doesn’t clock as Ed wanting to stop. I think the plot will be along the lines of Stede engaging in more piracy. Ed will quietly be struggling with the fact that Stede is becoming a more and more proficient pirate in his own way, Ed himself not wanting to pirate anymore, and his tentative new relationship with the captain of a ship he is definitely not wanted on by anyone other than Stede. Zheng needs to interact with Ricky here about him wanting to end piracy. Izzy is a good first mate here but he’s still drinking. Lucius may start to parallel that here. Former first mate Frenchie picks up the slack and falls into a leadership role when Izzy is struggling too much, and this is eventually gonna cause him to have to deal with his trauma that’s bottled up, when he has to talk to Izzy about clearly not handling his own. Eventually, things will come to a head with the crew not wanting Ed on board. It becomes an “us vs him” thing with the crew threatening to leave if Es doesn’t. Stede will try to smooth things over but Ed will interrupt and say don’t bother, he’s leaving. He doesn’t know who he is but at least fisherman would be better than pirate. Episode ends with Stede heartbroken and Ed going off to fish in something that isn’t his leathers, so he wouldn’t be recognizable from a distance. Low pinpoints Stede’s ship but doesn’t see Ed on it, and plans to bait him out by boarding and torturing the crew.

Episodes 7-8: Nope. I’d keep almost none of this.

What I’d change: This part is also still rough and I need to flesh it out a bit more, BUT: Calypso’s birthday would be episode 7. The crew would wanna party but also wanna cheer up their sulking captain. They’re glad Ed is gone. Izzy is a good first mate here but still drinking. He encourages the party to Stede who agrees. They’re spending Ed’s treasure that he’s left, turning the poison into positivity by getting rid of the bad memories the Kraken Crew has of obtaining it. Stede and Izzy bond a lot here. Ned Low does interrupt the party (I think maybe he’s also “working” with Ricky but not really, he has his own agenda) planning to bait Ed back. The scene in Stede’s quarters would be Izzy and Stede, not Ed and Stede. Once again the crew are suffering for Ed’s actions, and THAT is how Ed can atone for it. He can save them, probably with the help of Zheng who he’ll have met when he goes off to be a fisherman. So there’s some camaraderie going there. Also, with help from Lucius and Black Pete, who will have to trust him in order to save the crew/themselves. Stede will be the one to kill Ned Low, and he and Ed will still impulsively sleep together as a coping mechanism at the end of episode 8. Izzy is still alive and well (though still drinking a lot; and I think this could be a key to Frenchie having to confront trauma instead of locking it in the box), and things aren’t smoothed out with Ed and Izzy yet, that’s for next season, Ed has ACTUALLY done something to earn the crew’s trust back, and it appears to be a happy enough ending for Ed and Stede. Also, IF Ed says “I love you”, Stede is GONNA say “I love you too” because WTAF was that in the show?! But I’d end the season with La Vie en Rose and fireworks, Izzy happy and celebrating with the crew, a happy moment for Ed/Stede, the antagonist defeated, and Ed actually having atoned for his previous actions.

All of this is rough, but it’s my original thoughts. If anyone wants to use the base of this to write a fix-it fic, go for it. I may do it myself if I can find the time between work writing responsibilities.