#just want to spread more awareness for this term :)

[creature-wizard]

Okay y'all, going forward, this is what we're doing.

Shit's scary, I know. But we absolutely cannot afford to surrender to that fear, because that benefits the GOP. They want us to feel powerless, because they know we are not powerless. That's why they have so many shills and bots discouraging people from voting.

We will not demoralize ourselves and each other by doomposting in our moments of panic. If we have a panic attack, that's okay. But we are not going to spread that fear to other people in public. We will save our most scared thoughts for our private journals and close friends. And we will support our friends who are feeling hopeless.

We will remember that spreading awareness of Project 2025 and Agenda 47 has been hurting Trump. And we will continue to do this.

We will remember that right now, our only option is Biden, because without ranked choice voting, getting a third party candidate in is simply impossible. We might not like it, but that's why we're going to push like hell for ranked choice voting once we get his pruny old ass in to office for a second term. (And thank God, he can't have more than a second term; the Democrats will have to find someone else afterward.)

We will not spread conspiracy theories. Conspiracy theories are the weapon of the enemy. We don't need them.

We will not publicly mock Trump in all of this. Making Republicans feel even more victimized is a losing strategy. "But it's my blog-" I'm sorry, are you playing for political keeps or are you just here to fuck around and put everyone's life in even more danger?

We will emphasize the ways that Project 2025/Agenda 47 will hurt everyone. And we will keep talking about it.

We will remember that the UK and France have already avoided far right takeovers in their elections.

All right? You got that? Because we got this if we stick together and keep at this. Shit's bad right now but that doesn't mean it has to be bad forever. We got each other, and we can do this.

[mosoderbergh]

I love to think about that necromancer being h*rny

Here's the thing about Emmrich leading up to the romance: He's fiercely kind not just to Rook but to everyone else. He's gentle and unassuming, even in the face of Rook's being a goblin occasional teasing. It's clear he likes Rook, and it's clear how fondness turns quickly into *adoration*.

It's also a known fact that the man has weapons grade rizz. He has game like nothing you've ever seen before. He is comfortable with his sexuality and confident in his flirting abilities (as he should be, because wow).

But I do love the idea that when Rook first "accuses" him of trying to impress them, he protests specifically because he feels called out. Not just that: Rook's comment is exactly what wakes him up to his own crush. Because despite his usual confidence, he's been kind of in denial - even while setting up tea time for two in the Memorial Gardens.

And here's the delicious bit: I think he would come to terms with his romantic feelings for Rook relatively quickly after that. But his *desire*? No. There's the age difference, there's their overall situation, and then there's Rook, who is constantly overwhelmed and being thrown tasks from all sides. Emmrich's own wants are the very last thing he considers whenever he does get a moment with Rook. He's so focussed on showing them kindness, on making sure they are comfortable, that the first time he helps them to their feet after a fight and gets caught in the way they look up at him, all flushed cheeks and parted lips, their hand lingering in his, he has to excuse himself to stare at a wall.

Because sure, he has a soft spot for Rook. He's well aware of the warmth that spreads through his chest when they smile at him. But now his skin on fire and that *look* in Rook's eyes is burned into the back of his eyelids and it takes five minutes of breathing exercises (And then two more minutes of something he is too ashamed to ever think about again) before he can rejoin the group.

The scene in his library with the skull happens that same evening, after a minor existential crisis some serious deliberation. Because this is not Emmrich's first time *wanting* someone. But it's the first time he's been so repressed about it.

Don't get me wrong: I like this framing of Emmrich as confident and in control as much as the next guy. I just love to think that during that scene in the library, he accidentally turns himself on far more than even Rook. Emmrich says "close your eyes" and then Rook DOES IT and Emmrich internally is like "oh no oh god what have I done". He rests his hand on theirs and speaks in that low, seductive voice and Rook is like "damn this guy has some moves!" while Emmrich is just glad he's still producing words at all (Lucky for him, a constant flow of sweet-talk is what his brain defaults to when he is criminally horny).

[hyuniemyunie]

ok so..PLEASE hear me out on this..Hyun-ji hc…with size kink only if ur comfortable with it tho!!🤧

Size difference with cho hyun-ju

hcs are gn reader, the scenario is afab reader!

sfw and nsfw

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(ФωФ): size difference, brief mention of a belly bulge, A LITTLE bit of cum eating, top dom Hyun-ju, her genitalia are refered with anatomical terms, soft sex;3

hiii ofc im comfortable!! i wasnt sure if u wanted smaller partner or taller:( if you want taller, tell me! i can write that too. ik you said hcs but i got a little carried away..😞😞

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

ᯓ★ Hyun-ju has a strong protective streak, and having a smaller partner amplifies this tenfold. she always keeps an arm around you in public, shielding you from crowds or potential danger.

ᯓ★ She’s hyper-aware of your surroundings, constantly ensuring you're safe and comfortable, even if it means stepping in front of you during tense moments, girl is PROTECTIVE

ᯓ★ Is incredibly gentle with you. She cups your face with care, as though afraid she might accidentally hurt you.

ᯓ★ Loves resting her chin on your head, using your height difference as an excuse to pull you closer whenever possible, might get a little sassy about the difference.

ᯓ★ Can’t resist teasing you about your size, often smirking as she reaches for things you can’t quite get to.

ᯓ★ “Need help, sweet thing?” she’ll say with a mischievous grin, only to grab the item and hold it above her head, making you jump for it, or give her a kiss if you reaaally want it.

ᯓ★ She has no problem scooping you up, whether it's to carry you over puddles, give you a piggyback ride, or just because she wants to.

ᯓ★ Her oversized clothes practically swallow you whole, and she secretly loves seeing you in them. She often hands you her jackets, claiming, “You’ll catch a cold otherwise.” (That's a big fat lie, she just likes seeing you in her clothes.)

ᯓ★ She loves calling you stuff Tiny” or “Pocket-Sized,” but if anyone else dares to mock your height, her protective side kicks in immediately.

ᯓ★ Hyun-ju adores resting her hand on your head or shoulders, finding it comforting to have you close in such a tangible way.

ᯓ★ She’ll often lift you onto counters or higher surfaces to make conversations more “equal,” though she secretly loves looking down at you.

ᯓ★ If you feel insecure about your size, she makes a point of reminding you how much she loves it. “You’re perfect the way you are,” she’ll say, her voice soft and sincere.

ᯓ★ In private, she’s surprisingly clingy, loving how easily she can wrap herself around you. She’ll pull you onto her lap or into her arms, drag you to the couch or bed to cuddle, hug you from behind when you're making a meal..

ᯓ★ She compares hand size differences quietly. She holds your hand in hers, aligning them together before spreading her fingers open, quietly marveling at your smaller hand, making her feel all warm n fuzzy inside.

ᯓ★ Her hugs are all-encompassing, wrapping you in her arms so completely that you practically disappear.

ᯓ★ She loves how your head rests perfectly against her chest when you hug, and she’ll hold you a little longer than necessary just to enjoy the moment.

ᯓ★After you two get to the point where you're both comfortable, she teases you about how you’re her “pocket-sized partner” and pretends to look for you in crowds by glancing down dramatically.

ᯓ★ “I need to get you one of those flags on a stick so I don’t lose you,” she teases, laughing at your playful glare.

ᯓ★ On the more nsfw side..she absolutely adores how your little tummy bulges whenever she fucks you. She puts a hand over the bulge, pressing down on it, making you gasp and squirm under her touch.

ᯓ★ During sex, she's ultra careful, not wanting to hurt you. If you insist on let's say, eating her out or giving her a bj, she'll be super nervous at first. you'll have to reassure her that everythings okay, before getting smothered with her larger body.

ᯓ★ Girl is big in all the right places. she'll secretly enjoy watching you choke and gag around her, your throat not being able to handle the size.

ᯓ★ Runs her fingers thru your hair while you have her in your mouth. she softly praises you, cooing about how "Such a good girl..you're doing so well, my love."

ᯓ★ LOVES loves loves picking you up and pinning you against the wall, making you wrap your legs around her waist and just feel how much she needs you. she'll always use her height to her advantage, not that you mind, of course..

ᯓ★ Pins your wrists above your head, grinding her clothed bulge against your crotch as she looks down at you, making you feel so, so small compared to her.

ᯓ★ If you..well, actually tell her how much you like the size difference..

after..a few hours of making out and groping each other, hyun-ju swept you up into her strong arms, cradling you against her chest as she carried you to the bedroom. She kicked open the door, not bothering to close it behind them as she laid you down on the bed, the mattress dipping beneath their combined weight.

she stood back for a moment, drinking in the sight of you spread out before her, her chest heaving with anticipation. Then, she stepped forward, pinning you down softly, covering your smaller body with her own larger frame.

She captured your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head as she ground her hips against your, letting you feel the thick, hard length of her cock straining against her pants. Hyun-ju could feel the heat of your pussy, feeling just how ready you were for her.

"so wet already.." Hyun-ju murmured, her hips rocking against yours as she put her hands on the hem of your shirt, softly helping you take it off, putting it away on a nightstand next to the bed.

Her hands slid around to your breasts, palming the soft mounds as she lowered her head to take a hardened nipple into her mouth. She sucked hard, grazing the sensitive bud with her teeth as her hand slid down your stomach, delving between your thighs.

hyun-ju pushed her pants down just enough to free her aching cock, the thick, heavy shaft slapping against your belly as it sprang free. She didn't bother with further preparation, knowing that you were already dripping and ready for her, still wet from her fingering you a few hours ago.

"It's okay, my love," Hyun-ju murmured, her voice softening as she cupped your cheek gently. "I've got you. I'm going to take care of you, I promise."

She brushed a tender kiss against your lips, pouring all of her love and affection into the simple gesture. Her grip on your wrists gentled, her fingers intertwining with yours as she brought their joined hands down to rest on the pillow beside her head.

"Let's take this slow, sweetheart," Hyun-ju whispered, her hips still nestled between your thighs but no longer grinding urgently against her. "I want to make this good for you, okay?"

She trailed soft, gentle kisses down the column of your throat, feeling you shiver beneath her touch. Hyun-ju took her time, savoring the taste of your skin, the way your pulse fluttered beneath her lips.

As she kissed, her hands roamed over your body, caressing and stroking, learning every dip and curve. She cupped your breasts, thumbing your now wet nipples until they pebbled beneath her touch once more. Her fingers skimmed down your stomach, teasing along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs before brushing lightly over your dripping slit.

She brought her slick fingers to her lips, sucking them clean of your essence, moaning at the taste. Then, with a tender smile, she positioned the head of her cock at your entrance, feeling the heat and wetness beckoning her inside.

"Tell me if you need me to stop, okay? I never want to hurt you," Hyun-ju murmured, holding her gaze with unwavering intensity as she began to push forward, slowly, gently, inch by thick inch, until he was seated fully inside you, your hips pressed flush together.

With a soft huff, she began to move, her hips rocking against yours in a slow rhythm.

"Oh, love.." Hyun-ju breathed out "You feel so good.." She rolled her hips in a deep, circular motion, grinding against that sweet spot deep inside that made you see stars.

Her thrusts remained slow and steady, each one a deliberate, purposeful slide of hard flesh against soft silk. Hyun-ju wanted to savor every moment, to commit every gasp, every sigh, every flutter of your eyelashes to memory.

She leaned down to capture your lips in another kiss. Her tongue delved into your mouth, stroking along yours, coaxing you to respond, to meet her thrust for thrust.

One hand slid up to tangle in your hair, gently tugging your head back to deepen the kiss. The other hand skimmed down your side, over the curve of your hip, to grip your your thigh, caress your waist..she couldnt get enough of you.

The room filled with the soft, obscene sounds of their lovemaking - the creaking of the bed, the slick slide of skin against skin, and the breathy, needy noises spilling from your lips.

Her hips began to move a little faster, her thrusts growing a bit harder, a bit deeper. The head of her cock kissed that sweet spot inside you with each drive forward, making her gasp and shudder.

"That's it, my love," Hyun-ju praised, her voice a low, approving rumble. "You're doing so well, taking me so perfectly."

She could feel the heat building between them, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in her belly. Hyun-ju knew she was getting close, could feel the telltale tightening of her balls, the way her thrusts were growing more erratic.

But even as she lost herself in the throes of pleasure, she would not forget, would not risk bringing a child into this unpredictable world without careful thought and planning.

So with a herculean effort, Hyun-ju gritted her teeth, forcing herself to hold back, to delay her own release. She focused on you.

Hyun-ju's eyes widened as she witnessed the unmistakable bulge of her cock stretching your belly. The sight of her lover's body yielding to her, accepting and accommodating her size, made her even more turned on, if that was possible, her hand skimmed over the curve, marveling at the way her fingers sank into the supple flesh.

She could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering and clenching around her thickness. Hyun-ju knew she was close, could sense the impending crest of her own release barreling down on her. But she remained focused on you, determined to bring you to that peak before allowing herself to let go, so she doubled her efforts, pounding into her with deep, powerful thrusts that shook the bed and left you breathless. she slipped a hand between your sweat-slicked bodies, her fingers seeking out the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your sex.

Hyun-ju began to rub firm, tight circles around your clit, feeling it swell and throb against her touch. She timed the strokes with her thrusts, pushing deep inside you just as she flicked your clit.

finally, she could feel you coming beneath her, your pussy clamping down around her cock like a vice as you hit her peak. The sensation was almost too intense to bear, and Hyun-ju had to grit her teeth, calling upon every ounce of her self-control not to let go and spill herself deep inside you.

At the last possible second, Hyun-ju wrenched her hips back, tearing her aching cock from the velvet heat of your pussy. her hand flew to her shaft, stroking furiously as thick ropes of seed erupted from the swollen head, painting streaks of pearly white across your belly and breasts.

"Fuck.." Hyun-ju breathed out, her voice shaky.

she collapsed against you, careful not to crush you with her larger frame, her heart slamming against her ribs as she struggled to catch her breath. Hyun-ju tangled her fingers with yours, bringing your joined hands up to press against her heart as she rolled them to the side, cradling you against her chest.

"you did amazing, sweet thing, so good for me.." Hyun-ju murmured, once she had regained a modicum of composure. she brushed a tender kiss against your damp forehead, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Rest now, i got you.."

[hahaifolded]

I had this thought earlier but never knew how to fit it in so why then we just do a

Imagine if…  You, as the POC! Intelligence Officer, got hit with some sort of enemy “sex pollen”-esque thing and have to rely on a conflicted 141. (Warning: MDNI, Bad smut, ANGST, long as fuck) - also instead of a gender neutral reader, it’s more of AFAB reader because I don’t know how to write GN!smut so my bad)

So imagine, at this point, the 141 had began to ice you out and you are still trying to figure out what happened. So in an attempt to get back in their good graces, you decide to do a late-night mail sesh. Maybe you could find some sort of holy grail of intelligence that will prove your worth again. 

So you’re so determined in finding something that you start opening envelopes and packages without little care. With so little care that you rip into a weird looking package and immediately get sprayed with some weird powder. You jump back, but it’s too late, you’ve already inhaled the foreign substance. 

Trained for a situation like this, you sound off the alarm, alerting the base of the tainted package. You’re immediately taken into medical to monitor your health.

The 141 are immediately made aware of the situation and rush to the infirmary. The four pace outside, devestated that you were hurt and they weren’t with you. 

Their blood goes cold when the base’s head doctor calls the four in the hallway, brow furrowed. They listen intently as the doctor explains you were hit by a new toxic agent that just entered the black market. They all sigh in relief when the doctor explains that the medical team had gotten word of it weeks prior and figured out a way to combat the agent’s effects. However, relief quickly turns into the weirdest mix of shock and arousal when the doctor explains…

“The agent attacks the hypothalamus, making the body go into overdrive. The quickest way to negate its affects while also flushing it from the body is rigorous intercourse. So if you want to save your intelligence officer, someone will need to go in there and give them a hand.” 

After explaining your exact state (lucid but incredibly horny), the doctor leaves the four to decide who was going to help you. Johnny, Kyle, and Simon all look at their captain, unsure on what this meant in terms of the pact. 

“This is for them, not us,” Price announces. The other three nod. Kyle opens his mouth to ask how would they decide, but before he could say anything, Ghost walks to your door and turns your doorknob.

“Woah, woah, woah. Who said you could do it?” barks Soap. Kyle joins Soap in glaring down at the Lieutenant.

Ghost slowly opens the door. “I’m the only one who won’t enjoy this.” And with that, he walks in. 

You really didn’t think this could get much worse. Instead of making life easier for your boys, you just stressed them out. And now in order to save your life, your poor lieutenant has to take one for the team and touch you. Fuck, you’d rather die than let that poor man go through with this.

Despite the growing heat between your legs, you try to shrink yourself in as Ghost enters the room. Fuck, he looks good. Strong, big, powerful. Shit, you wanted him. But he didn’t want you. 

So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize how close Ghost had gotten until he was practically hovering over you. Not really, but that’s how close he felt as he sat by your side.

“You okay, pretty thing?” You couldn’t help but moan at that. You tried to fold yourself further in, but Ghost wasn’t having none of that. He gently turns you towards him, forcing your body to spread out. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothes. He caressed your face. “I know the situation sucks, but let me help. Please. I— we, we can’t lose you,” he pleas. You were caught off guard. You had never heard your lieutenant so soft before. 

“But,” you try to stabilize your voice, but you couldn’t hide the strain in it, “you don’t want this.” You try to leave his grasp to further sell your point, but Ghost holds you down. He leans towards your face and stares straight into your eyes. 

“I want this. I. Want. You,” he enunciates each word. You didn’t think you could get any hotter. You stare straight into his eyes to search for any hesitation or disgust. Instead, Ghost’s eyes are twinkling, clear sign he’s smiling under that mask. Fuck, that mask. Maybe you do have a mask kink.

“Promise?” You whimper.

Ghost leans down and digs his face in your neck. “Promise.” 

That’s all the confirmation you needed. You sit up and throw yourself against your Lieutenant. You push him against the bed and crawl over him. Fuck, you knew he was big, but feeling him under you made the size difference even more glaring. You weren’t necessarily tiny yourself but damn did he make you feel small. That alone makes you go dumb. 

And Ghost knows he said that he wasn’t going to enjoy this but fuck did he feel good. He wished y’all’s first time wasn’t under these circumstances but it is what it is. Your entire body pressed against his, begging for more. If this was going to be a one time thing, then Ghost was going to savor it to its fullest. He moved further in the bed and pushed you deeper on his lap. He grabbed your back and rocked you against his groin. You immediately cry in pleasure at the extra fiction. Ghost needs to hear that again. 

“Do that again,” he begs. He rolls you over and starts to drive his hips into yours. You moan which only fuels the Lieutenant more. There’s no way you don’t feel what you’re doing to him.

“Come here, pretty thing,” Ghost pleads. He tears his mask off. Now it’s the moment of truth. You look up and stop rocking against him. Shit, did Ghost fuck up? 

No actually as you crash your lips against his. You moan against his mouth, eager to taste your Lieutenant. Not one to waste an opportunity, Ghost reciprocates your kiss with the same fervor. 

You’re the first to break for air. He moves down towards your neck as he fumbles with the button of your pants. Ghost couldn’t believe his luck. After weeks of ignoring you, he’s now about to devour you whole. You continue to moan against his neck as he continues to rock against your hip. As much as he loves to hear your moans, Ghost needed something more.

“Say my name. Say my name, baby. Say Simon, say Simon,” Simon babbles. You just moan in response. Ghost grinds harder into you, hoping it will egg you on to say his name. Instead, of saying his name however, you grab at his shirt, tugging it up his torso.

Understanding what you want, Ghost gets up and takes a good look at you. He stares down and takes in your heaving chest, your gaping mouth, and your empty eyes. Your empty eyes. That makes Simon’s blood run cold.

What the fuck is he doing?

He treats you like shit for weeks and now suddenly he’s going to be your knight in shining armor by fucking you while you’re under the influence. What kind of man is he.

“I can’t do this.” Ghost jumps off the bed in disgust. He rushes out of the room, unable to be in the same space with you a moment longer. He is greeted by a sitting Price and Soap. They both jump up in shock, surprised to see the lucky Lieutenant maskless, but fully clothed. Before anyone can say anything, Ghost rushes past them, leaving the two confused.

“What the fuck happened?” asks Soap. He strides towards your door and peaks inside. It doesn’t look like you’ve been satiated so what happened? John stays silent. He recognized that look in Simon’s eyes. 

“Soap, go. I’ll check on Ghost,” John states. Soap didn’t need to be told twice. 

The door slamming nearly sobers you up. If your body wasn’t already hot, you know it would be burning in shame. Ghost didn’t want you. Ghost got a taste and couldn’t go through with it. Ghost… Simon was disgusted by you. 

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you fail to notice the Scottish sergeant enter the room until he slips in your bed. He maneuvers your head so its between his bicep and chest. You try to pull away, not wanting to disgust another member of your team, but Soap doesn’t allow it. 

Pulling you back in, he whispers against your head, “no, no, none of that. I’m here to help, mo ghraidh.” He pulls you in closer so your body is right against his. “Nearly killed L.t. when he went in your room first.” You let out an airy gasp in response which only eggs Soap on. He slides his hand down your torso until it reaches the top of your pants. He toys with the buttons and breathes against your head, “let me help, please.” 

Fuck, you need this. You need him. You moan out a yes in his ear and further press yourself against him. He immediately slips his fingers down your pants and underwear and gets to work. 

“Jesus, you’re wet,” breathes out Soap. In any other circumstances, Soap would have been worried for Ghost, but he couldn’t help but feel grateful right now. He has you exactly where’s he wanted for the longest time: moaning, wet, and begging for more. He alternates between rubbing your clit and slipping a few fingers in you which only makes you moan. To his delight, you dig your face into his neck, nipping at every piece of skin you could get. 

With every moan and nip, Johnny felt his pants get tighter and tighter. However, as much as Johnny wanted to ravage you, he had to remain poised. Sure the doctor said you were still cognizant, but that doesn’t mean you wanted this… or at least wanted this in this way. So Johnny remained professional… controlled. He’ll let you take what you need and that’s it. Your pleasure was his main task at hand.

And fuck was he giving it to you. You had to give it to your sergeant, he was good with his fingers. You pull your pants down as you knew with a little more space, Soap would be able to get you to see stars in no time. Intuitive as always, Johnny helps you, one hand on your pants and another on you. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble against his neck. You needed more. More of Johnny. You stretch your head further up, landing wet, hot kisses against his jaw. Just a little more and your lips would be against his. Just. A. Little. Mo—

“Ah, ah, ah,” tsked Johnny. He slowly pushes your head down and curls his arm over it. “Whores don’t deserve kisses,” he growls in your ear. The room only gets hotter, but not in the fun way. The reality of the situation suddenly washes over you. Here you are, bottoms off, getting fingered by your fully clothed co-worker who frankly hasn’t said a single word to you in weeks. Is he even enjoying this? 

“Stop,” you gently cry. You push on his chest which he responds by holding you tighter in his grasp. He says something, but you are so overwhelmed by shame and embarrassment, you fail to hear him. You fight against his grasp and begin to squirm. Realizing the situation, Johnny releases you from his grasp, allowing you to scoot fully away from him.

“Get out,” you state. You reach for the bed’s sheets and cover yourself as your body burns from both shame and arousal. 

“Wait, I wasn’t talking about y—,” he begins, butyou interrupt him, asking him to leave once more. Shame clearly painted all over your face. That was the last thing Johnny wanted you to feel in this moment. 

“Please mo ghraidh, I didn’t—“

“GET OUT JOHNNY…please,’ you cry. Johnny’s heart shattered as he sees tears brim your eyes. Realizing his time was up, he got up and left the room. 

Much to his dismay, Johnny is met with his Captain and recovered Lieutenant. He just looks down and joins the pair at the bench, silent but very clear in his message: he fucked up.

The three sit in silence. John is the first one to speak as he asks about Kyle’s whereabouts. 

“You have to do it.”

“What?”

“You have to do it,” Ghost states. His voice emotionless and hollow. “We have no clue where Kyle is and he’s not answering his phone. They don’t have a lot of time and Johnny and I already messed up.” 

John takes in a sharp breath. It’s not like he didn’t want to because Lord knows that he wants to. He just didn’t think he deserved to. How does the man who ordered for your isolation get to accompany you in your most vulnerable state, 

“Save them,” adds Johnny who shifts in his seat, clearly still affected by his time with you. 

Price shifts his gaze from the two men to your door. Determined to save you, he rises from his seat and opens the door. 

You grip on the sheets harder as the door lets in a harsh glow of light in, another reminder of your situation.

“It’s fine. I can handle it,” you groan out as you cover yourself with the bed sheet. 

“You know I can’t do that, sweetheart.” You squeeze your legs together at your captain’s deep voice. He timidly approaches the bed and takes a seat at the edge of the bed. He tries to shrink himself to no avail. “I don’t know what got into Ghost and Soap and I promise you, I will have a word with them, but right now, you’re my priority. So tell me, how can I help?”

You shrink yourself further in the bed, fighting every nerve in your body telling you to mount your captain. 

Your captain slides his body towards you with one of his arms leading. “This isn’t your fault, sweetheart. It’s never been your fault.” You can’t help but look at him as his voice falters. You’re taken aback when you see guilt flash across his face. 

“Please, let me make this right,” he pleads. On your most desperate nights, it’s been your captain’s dominance that’s gotten you to unwind, but right now, your captain’s unexpected submission was making your entire body burn with desire. 

Unable to fight the urge anymore, you look straight into Price’s eyes and slowly took the covers off yourself. His eyes widened as your bare legs were unveiled. He kept his eyes on yours, trying to be as respectful as he could. You stretch out your legs and slowly spread them. 

“Say it,” your captain breathes out. 

“Eat me,” you whisper.

Those two words are all that John needs. He lunges forward and hooks your legs over his shoulders. It’s time - just the moment he dreamed of for months. 

John dug his face in your cunt and got to work. He wasn’t sure who moaned louder, you or him. With how wet you were, John knew his beard was just soaked but he could care less. All he cared right now was making you scream over and over and—

“Fuck captain,” you screamed. John pulls you in closer, lifting your entire lower half off the bed and closer to his face. He wanted to feel you finish on his lips. The louder you got the tighter his pants became. He couldn’t believe he was denying himself and his boys this. You are perfect. 

As your screams turn to whines, John slowly lays you down to catch his breath which isn’t long as he begins to pepper your inner thighs with kisses. 

“Better?” he asks. You shoot him a quick glance before tugging his hair and pulling him up. John eagerly follows your lead. His eyes catch the ways your gaze shyly glance down at his lips. Not wanting to deny you anymore, he passionately takes your lips, kissing you with the same fervor he had when he ate you out. To his delight, you kiss back just as fiercely. 

Despite the orgasm, your body aches for more. As you tasted yourself on Price’s lips, you toy with his pant buttons, hoping he’ll indulge you with something bigger.

“Say it,” Price jests against your lips. You feel his lips curl into a smile. You can’t help but laugh at the irony of the situation. 

“What’s so funny?” he asks. His eyes crinkle with joy. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen those eyes. 

Without a second thought, you answer “you’re looking at me like I haven’t been a pain in your ass these past few weeks.” You giggle, trying to hide the pain you’ve felt these past few weeks. 

“What do you mean?”

“Oh c’mon John, let’s be honest here,” you start. “You and the rest of the guys have treated me like shit for weeks now… for good reason though,” you quickly add. Oblivious to your captain’s inner turmoil, you push him on the bed and begin to feather kisses all over his face. “But don’t worry, maybe I can make it up right now,” you joke. Fueled by the drug in your system, you pull John’s pants and underwear down, revealing his well-endowed member. 

“You really don’t have to,” John pushes back as your breath hit his dick. Despite it being the a dream come true, he couldn’t let you pleasure him under the guise of ‘you making it up to him.’ If anything, he should be making it up to you. He hurt you. He made you feel worthless. He doesn’t deserve your kindness. He should be on his knees for week and erasing every ounce of doubt in that pretty head of yours. He doesn’t deserve to feel good. He deserves to suffer.

And to your dismay, his body agrees. Within your own mouth, John’s dick softens. You try to ignore it and reason it was all in your head. But as the extra limb got softer and softer, shame overtook your body. Are you really that undesirable?  

John gently tugs on your head and asks that you let him try. His voice is tight (with embarrassment). John scoots to the edge of the bed and tugs on his dick, hoping to revive it. You watch as it refuses to come back. 

“Fuck,” he barks. He glances back at you and assures you it’s not your fault. Despite his reassurances, you can’t help but feel disgusted by yourself. Three men, three busts. One walked out, another didn’t want your touches, and now your captain is unable to get it up. You inch yourself away from John until your back hit the bed’s frame. You grab the sheets once more to cover yourself. 

You break the silence that had filled the room. “It’s okay. You can stop now.” John’s shoulders slump. 

“Sweetheart—“ he starts but you really didn’t want to hear it. 

“It’s fine. You don’t have to excuse yourself,” you try comforting your captain who you think is distraught by his performance. “I know it’s not your fault.” You see John’s back slightly straighten before it relaxes once more. “You can g—.” Before you can even let out that “o,” John shoots up from the bed and pulls up his pants. As he strides out the exit, you can’t help but yell out a quick, “thank you for trying.” 

Price freezes at that. With the door slightly agape, he sadly mutters, “I’ll get Kyle.” And with that, you’re alone once more.

Kyle couldn’t help but glare at his exiting captain. He couldn’t believe his luck. Bad enough Ghost was the who got to help you but now you’re telling him that Ghost AND Soap AND now Price all had the chance to help you but all fucked up.

“Un-fucking-believable,” he spits as Price leans against the wall, shame written all over his face. “I leave for what? 30 minutes? And you all got your dick wet without helping them.”

“I didn’t even pull it out.”  “Technically my fingers were the ones that got wet.” “My dick wouldn’t even get hard.” 

Kyle glared them all to silence. “It doesn’t matter if THEY’RE still dying.” Gaz couldn’t believe his team. Determined on saving you, he strides to your door, leaving the other three to wallow in their guilt. 

“Baby?” Kyle calls out. His heart breaks as he takes in your heaving, sweaty body. You quickly glance at Kyle and let out mix of a groan and moan. Not wanting to waste another minute, he crawls in your bed and presses you against him. “I’m right here, baby. I’m right here.”

“Kyle?” you groan out. You try to leave his grasp but Kyle wasn’t having it. He begins to kiss your neck and caress your body over the sheets. 

“I’m right here. Let me make you feel better,” Kyle begs. He can’t lose you. You’ve been slipping from his fingers for weeks, but now, he’s going to hold on to you and never let go. 

While Kyle didn’t want to let you go, all you want to do is escape. You are done. It’s bad enough that your teammates ignore you for weeks, but now, while you’re at your lowest, they all come get a quick taste and gag. You aren’t even angry. Just hurt. And really confused because why does Kyle care so much? 

“Use me.” You stop pushing against him and look up at him. Your entire body began to burn at the idea of using Kyle “Gaz” Garrick for your pleasure. And it seems like Kyle noticed your excitement. 

“You like that?” he whispers in your ear. “You on top,” he kisses your cheek, “or I’m on top,” a kiss to your other cheek, “I could be on my knees,” a kiss to your forehead, “or you could be on your knees,” a gentle kiss on your nose, “we can do whatever you want.” 

Your head starts to ring by the contrast between Kyle’s dirty promises and sweet kisses. You aren’t sure what’s hotter, free rein with a special forces sergeant or for once, after weeks, being in complete control of your own pleasure. 

“Take it off,” you command. To your joy, Kyle immediately starts to strip. Now determined to put yourself first, you rip the covers off your body and take off the last few articles of clothing on your body. As soon as Gaz finished, he began to crawl over your body. However, not wanting to be under him anymore, you push him on his back and climb on top of him. 

“Take whatever you need,” Kyle breathes out which only makes you wetter. You couldn’t help but moan when you felt Kyle’s already hard member between your legs. You grab his dick and slowly ease yourself on it. You groan in delight as Gaz’ dick filled you up. Determined to end this once and for all, you start to bounce. Your moans, Kyle’s groans, and skin slapping fill the room. In another life, this would have been a dream come true. Instead, this is just a means to an end. While you try to ignore the implications of you sleeping with your sergeant and really the entire 141, Kyle beings to babble. 

“You’re perfect,” Kyle groans, “everything I’ve dreamed of.”  As he starts to spew our compliments, you can’t help but cringe. Of course, the only time Kyle compliments you is when you’re riding his dick. 

“I love y—.” Unable to hear such a lie, you bend over and shut him up with a kiss. Wanting to end this dream-turned-nightmare, you begin to bounce furiously. Kyle begins to whine against your lips. His hands grip your bottom as he uses his legs to bounce up in you. You really wish he actually wanted you like this. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Kyle!” you scream in pleasure as your orgasm hits you. You slump against Kyle’s chest as your body tingles in pleasure. It’s short lived as the reality of the entire situation hits you like a bus. 

Kyle caresses your back and whispers every sweet thing he’s been wanting to say for weeks. Right now, the only thing that mattered was making sure you feel cared for. 

However, it seems like that’s the last thing you want as you suddenly climb off him and quickly hide under the covers. He calls out your name and asks you to come back. “Hey, come back. Let’s can cuddle for a bit and make sure it’s completely out of your sy—“

“No need. I feel better now. You can leave,” you rush out. 

“Baby, c’mon, let m—“

You sit up and glare at Kyle with watery eyes. “I’m not your fucking baby,” you spit out, “And I’m not Ghost’s pretty thing. I’m not Soap’s mo ghraidh and I’m not Price’s sweetheart. I get it, okay? So stop pretending like you care and just leave. I’m fine now. You got the job done.” You lay back down with your back towards Kyle. His heart breaks as he catches the way your shoulders shake. Realizing that the damage was done, Kyle slowly gets up, gets dressed, and leaves. 

— — — 

Kyle winces as he’s greeted by the bright light of the hallway and the hopeful faces of teammates. 

“How’d it go? Are they okay?” Johnny shoots up from his seat, eager for his fellow sergeant’s answer. 

“They’ll live.” Johnny cheers as Price and Ghost physically relax. 

But, their joy is short-lived as your sobs reach their ears. The four look at each other, all questing whether it was all worth it. 

Word Count: 4350

More Thoughts

[wontmindd]

Alastor with a pure hearted s/o

a/n I'm fully aware that Alastor is aroace. My scenarios are meant to be interpreted as a deep, unconditional love, not necessarily romantic. I'm not aroace but I'm all for educating myself, so please if something's off let me (gently) know. Hope you enjoy :)

TW! canon typical violence

being a twisted person is not a requirement to reincarnate in Hell. Sins depend on religion, culture, societal norms. You were more of a victim, in fact.

you never got used to being in Hell. Surviving not only the Extermination but also the inhabitants becomes harder and harder every year.

it's kill or be killed, but you just can't bring yourself to do any harm to anyone, even if it means risking your own life.

as soon as you hear about princess Charlie Morningstar's new hotel for souls who want a second chance, your bags are PACKED

it's not like you really need redemption, you are pure hearted already. it's more a matter of understanding the reasons why you ended in Hell and coming to terms with them. maybe then the gates of Heaven would open for you. it's also a safer place for you to be.

Charlie welcomes you excitedly; Angel Dust, Husk and Vaggie aren't that friendly at first since your personalities don't match, but they eventually grow fond of you

and then there's, well...the Radio Demon.

you never met an Overlord before, and Alastor was supposed to be gone for years. But his presence wasn't frightening. A big smile spread across his face, he welcomed you like a gentleman.

you heard stories about his lifestyle and even previous murderous acts as a human, but for some reason you just can't bring yourself to fear him.

at first you were kinda pathetic to him. so naive, out of touch with the evils of Hell. he didn't dislike you. just thought your life was so easy to throw away in a society like that and that you wouldn't last long.

it seems like you two don't have much to share. he just wanders in his den, while you spend time in your room. you greet each other and have small talks, but nothing more than that. that's until he hears jazz music play behind your door.

he mentions it during dinner, and you start talking about your interest in 30s jazz music, especially the one of the Roaring 20s. you come from a later era, but you're very much cultured about jazz and its forms and that's enough for Alastor to develop an interest in you.

he has so many jazz artists recommendations, and you share some of your favourite pieces with him through your gramophone.

without even noticing, Alastor starts spending hours in your room just listening to music. some time even practicing swing dancing. and talking about jazz culture all around the world, and entertainment in general. he has many fun facts about the history of radio too!

the others at the hotel notice your growing bond and low-key support it, in their own, weird way. Angel Dust is especially convinced that you two are hooking up, as Husk not-so-kindly explains that it's more likely for Alastor to ascend to Heaven than express interest in sex.

you would start to open yourself up a bit to the Radio Demon. he doesn't understand why, since it didn't ask or never showed much empathy. but he just can't bring himself to tell you to stop. he wants to listen.

you manage to make him talk about some glimpses of his own life and thoughts. you knew that he was the complete opposite of you. incline to Evil, an enjoyer of all things that made your stomach clench. but he's still the one person who spends hours with you just listening to both jazz and your fears.

one day, Alastor decided that in no way you are walking around the city without him. it's just too dangerous for you. he tries to teach you how to use weapons and demonic powers to defend yourself but he doesn't feel like you can make it into Hell by yourself.

you like strolling through the streets with him, arms intertwined, chatting and laughing even if demons around you are shitting their pants just by seeing the Overlord walking around.

but one day, Alastor can't find you.

you're not in your room, or in the Hotel hall. No one saw you that morning. He starts to feel something he never felt in his life: fear.

he darts out the Hotel, trying to find you. that's when he sees you just a few streets away.

a group of animal-like demons is encircling you. you are on your knees, arms over your head to protect yourself. A lion-demon is holding a knife over you and your arms are covered in cuts. you hold something close to your stomach.

that's when Alastor realized that he had feelings for you.

when he threw himself between you and the demons attacking you.

it's the first time you see Alastor without a smile. his teeth are gritted, face full of unprecedented violence and will to kill, breathing heavily in and out in a sort of animalistic way, but there's no trace of his characteristic smile you love.

his body starts to morph into his full demon form. his horns grow exponentially, his body too as it hovers menacingly on top of your aggressors as they start to feel a pure fear they never felt before.

in a matter of a second, they are gone. Alastor has always been a calculated, elegant killer, but this time he only felt a raw, ferocious instinct to kill.

as he's done, he turns around towards you. he doesn't want to, but he snaps.

"W̶̞̐H̷̻͒Y̷̰̅ ̶̠͛D̸͕́I̸͔̍D̴̿͜ ̷̯̇Y̶̭͌Ỏ̴̬U̵̖̍ ̷̛͎Ģ̷̕O̸̩͑ ̷̹̈́O̶̮͆U̸͍̇T̴̙͆ ̷̧̀W̴͓̅I̷̞͑T̸̗͒H̴̹͒O̴̺̓Ṷ̵̂T̵̺̚ ̵̢́M̴̜̅E̶̬̋?̸̻͋!̸̦͂"

you flinch, you never saw Alastor lose his composure. he was always so calm and collected. his voice was static, choppy.

the tears that were cornering your eyes start streaming down your face "I-I..."

"Ţ̶̈Ḧ̴͙́Ė̵̩Ỳ̷̳ ̷̳̒Ã̸̡L̷̛͚M̶͇̚O̸͈̔S̴̜̎T̸͚̊ ̷̤͝K̷͊͜I̵̺͝L̵͚̎L̴̤̆Ẽ̴͖D̶͍̈́ ̵̻͝Y̵̰̑O̸̜͘Ù̶͍!̵̻͝ ̸͓̾D̴̯͒O̶̅͜Ṉ̶̌'̷̹͒T̵͎͋ ̶̺́Y̴̹͂O̶͍̅U̴̘͌ ̵̘̾Û̷̪N̸̩̊D̵͎̋Ȅ̴��R̵̮͂S̸̰̄T̸̝̅A̵͓͘N̷̩͂Ḏ̴̀?̵̗̍!̸̭̎"

suddenly, your bleeding arms fall from your head. you expose what you've been protecting all along.

a vinyl, a really old record from Alastor's favourite jazz artist. a rare find.

"I-I know but...tomorrow it's your death anniversary and I wanted to give this to you...as a surprise. I'm sorry"

Alastor's face immediately softens. Eyebrows raised, smile still not seen. He's just surprised and...moved.

He doesn't say anything, he just picks you up in his arms and takes you back to the Hotel where he bandages your arms.

Feeling guilty for putting yourself in danger, you ask Alastor to come to your room in order to apologize to him.

As he closes the door behind him, he says that there's no need to apologize.

"I'm...glad that you are still in your room. Listening to jazz, alive"

words didn't come easy, but he did feel the need to say it. you smile at him.

you propose to put his gift on the gramophone and so you do. music starts to flow between the small space you shared with the Radio Demon.

that's when you and Alastor start slow dancing. his arms around your waist, yours encircling his neck. his smile is back, but soft and...almost loving.

with his silent agreement, you reach for his cheek and graze it.

"Thank you for saving me, Alastor. Even if you are everything I distance myself from in this life...I'm glad you are the person that you are with me. In my next life, I'll make sure to be a sinner again if it means dancing with you like this"

Alastor now understands his feelings. It's something deeper than care. It's love. But not the same love you reserve to a friend and not even romantic. It's something deeper, more visceral.

He doesn't answer, just closes his eyes and leans in to press his forehead against yours.

you later fall asleep on your bed to the quiet sound of the gramophone playing, hands intertwined on Alastor's chest.

[germiyahu]

Republicans are absolutely 100% manufacturing consent for pogrom-like violence against immigrant communities, specifically Haitians. That is true. Haitians keeping their children home because of increased threats and harassment is a cause for alarm.

But seeing people already call it a pogrom... nobody has been chased out of their home, nobody has been murdered, nobody has been raped, nobody has posed with the bodies for grizzly photo-ops. I don't know, this all fits into the larger narrative of liberal~leftist apathy toward anti-Jewish violence, taking it and washing out its historic Judenhass connotations, and applying the term to anyone even when the conditions haven't been met yet. At the least, there's a lot about historic pogroms that the general American public just don't know about. They're not aware of just how brutal and swift they were. All it takes is a little education, but clearly it took me wanting to become a Jew to even try to learn more about Jewish history so I don't have a lot of faith in the vast majority of gentiles.

It's a complicated mix of emotions where like, it's appropriate to be nervous and scared for these communities, but I find myself annoyed that most of these accounts just don't care when entire Jewish communities are harassed and have libel spread against them. A lot of online leftists certainly didn't care, in fact celebrated, the October 7th pogrom!

Let's hope nothing escalates further, but it is not appropriate to just take terms from Jewish history, not understand the actual implications of these terms, and throw them at the nearest Republican politician. It's just like invoking Hitler. And when you also apply these terms to Jews, I know you are not operating in good faith.

[bizbat]

Pretty Girl

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🐼JJK Masterlist🐼

~ Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

~ Explicit smut

~ Fem terms used for Reader, Reader is shorter than Jason, Reader has body hair but color and texture are not described.

~ Wc: 1.93k

~ You can find more of my works here.

~ Slight squeal to Not A Problem.

C/W: Smut, PiV Penetration, Oral (female receiving), Use of the terms "pussy", cunt", "tits", "ass", "cock", Pubic hair, Nipple sucking, very brief mention of foot play (get into it, leave me alone), Fingering, Doggy style, Pet names (Angel, Pretty girl, Baby, Hun, Ma, Bunny), Dacryphilia, Slapping, Jason talks too much, Creampie

Deleted the original ask but it was asking for Jason Todd with a Fem!Reader with body hair, so if you're the person who requested this, I hope you enjoy! Also if you saw this before it was finished, no you didn't.

It's not called a happy trail for nothing yk

To be entirely honest with you, Jason probably couldn't bring himself to care less.

Do you honestly think that he even notices that you haven't shaved your armpits in a while when he's frantically tugging your shirt over your head so he can suck on your tits?

Do you really think that he cares that there's a bit of hair around your ankles when he's got your feet pressed against his bulge through his boxers? I mean be serious.

This is a man who used to date an Amazon. I want you to take one look at Artemis and tell me to my face you think she shaves down there. :|

If anything, Jason is a hair enthusiast.

Hashtag bring back the bush.

When he's got your laid on your back, your legs thrown over his shoulders while he devours your cunt, he doesn't think he's done a good job unless he's got at least two strands on his tongue.

What's the point if you don't get a trophy? That's his mentality.

He, himself, is the proud owner of an absolutely gorgeous trail of thick, dark hair starting just below his belly button and disappearing down the front of his pants. Not to mention the dark tufts of hair spreading across his burly chest.

Who is he to judge?

~ Fic Starts Here. ~

"I keep telling you, Ma," Jason begins, though his words can hardly be deciphered when he's got his lips wrapped around one of your nipples and his fingers loudly slipping in and out of your squelching pussy.

He moans as he lightly nips at your perky bud, briefly tugging away to free his mouth to coo in your ear. "I don't care about all that shit you worry about." He kisses you just below the shell of your ear, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin, matched with his fingers working frantically to bring you to ecstasy make you shiver in his hold.

"Any. Of. It," He says, punctuating each word with a particularly firm thrust of his fingers. He lightly flicks at the outer shell of your ear with his tongue, before tugging the tender flesh of your earlobe between his teeth. His calloused palm brushes against your clit with each pulse of his fingers, drawing sickeningly sweet moans from your mouth.

"Jay!" You cry, the air in your living room sweltering and heavy with the warm scent of lust. "Jay, please! M-more!" Your moans make him chuckle, your earlobe still loosely clenched between his teeth. The sound of his laugh, husky and deep, coated in a thick layer of desire, sends a shiver down your spine, a heated tingling sensation coursing through your veins.

"More what, pretty girl? Use your words." His mouth falls to your neck, where he's already begun sucking his mark into your flesh. Even if it wouldn't be visible to others, he'd be more than aware of it, a constant reminder of who you end up underneath each night, of whose name you call whenever you feel good.

He gently coaxes the words out of you by withdrawing his fingers from your dripping core, and the threat is more than enough to make you beg. "T-touch me more, Jason! Please!" You grip onto his arm with a fierce intensity, desperate to have more contact with him. "Faster!"

The demand makes him laugh again, but he obliges nonetheless. "There ya go, hun. Tell me what you want." His thick fingers swipe against your g-spot with a trained precision. "Want me to make you feel good, baby? Want me to make you cum? Send all those, ngh," He grunts, moving his position so his fingers can penetrate you even deeper. "All those nasty thought outta your head?"

He doesn't have to instruct you to reply. As soon as the words leave his mouth you let out a loud and immediate "yes!", and within an instant, he's tugging out his fingers to deliver a few loud slaps to your firm clit, before shoving them right back inside, his thumb positioned delicately over the perky bud.

"Yeah?" He huffs in your ear, seemingly just as excited as you are, though his cock is straining painfully in his boxers. "You gonna cum on my fingers, pretty girl? Gonna get my hand nice and wet?" It's almost mean the way he taunts you, cruel for him to expect a response when his thumb is bullying your clit with mind-numbingly slow strokes.

"J-Jay!" You grip his wrist so tightly he worries about his circulation, but only for a moment, because soon he feels your walls tightening around his fingers with a vice grip, and he knows that you'll be unraveling with just a few more swipes of his thumb.

"You close already, bunny? Gonna cum just like that?" He doesn't even have to ask, but he does. He hovers over you, caging you in with his arms as his fingers pick up the pace, making a sweet juice spray out of your pretty cunt, soaking his hand and the carpeting beneath you as you cum with a final call of his name.

"There ya go, hun," He coos, using his fingers to help you ride out your orgasm. "There ya go." He allows you to catch your breath, his fingers stilling before completely withdrawing from your cunt. He asks you, finally slipping his boxers down enough to free his aching cock from it's confines, "See what happens when you use your words, angel?"

He slides the tip of his cock between your folds, the head a furious shade of deep red. He coos again, gently calming your whines and insistence that you're too sensitive. "Ah, ah, ah, pretty girl. I just wanna make sure you feel real good,". He's hard to deny when he's got that crazed, determined look in his eyes.

You're reminded that the stretch of his fingers is nothing compared to the feeling of his thick cock sinking inch by inch within your tight heat. The familiar sensation makes you gasp, your eyes drifting down to the space between your legs where the two of you meet, and the sight stirs a tiny moan from the back of your throat.

"Jason! Fuck, so good!" You whine, your back comforted by the plush, freshly cleaned carpet. Jason hitches your legs up over his thick, muscled thighs, his fingers pressing against your soft skin. "So . . . nice, f-feels-ah, feels so nice!" You can feel your toes and calves clenching at the pressure, your gaze still heavily trained on his cock.

"Breathe, Ma." He reminds, his own chest hot and tight at the feeling of your clenching down around his length. "Gotta relax, baby, remember?" He moans once he's finally all the way inside you. "Shit, you feel good, bunny. So, so good." He mumbles into your ear, his hands holding up his weight on either side of your head.

He lets you get used to his size before he starts moving his hips, a lesson he learned after the first time you had sex. But once you're ready, he begins slowly canting his hips into your own, his thick cock rubbing against every spot inside you, every spot that makes you squirm and curl in on yourself.

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, your nails digging into his taut muscle at the maddening pace of his thrusts. "Please go faster, Jay," You whine, your walls rhythmically clenching around his flesh. "N-need it, need it, please!"

"Oh, bunny, you tryna make me feel good too?" He asks, his own eyes drifting down to where the two of you meet, his mouth watering and his gaze darkening when he sees the slight bulge of his cock in your abdomen.

He pulls back, resting on his hunches with his cock barely nestled inside your warmth, before grabbing your wrists and pressing them to the floor above your head, holding them together with one hand, and driving his cock back inside you, his pace nearly doubled.

"This good, hun?" He grunts in your ear. He places his free hand on your hip, using it as leverage to drive his cock even deeper, your wrists still pinned to the floor with his other. "Gotta-fuck-gotta let me kn-know, baby. How'm I spouse ta make-make you fe-feel good if you don't t-tell me?"

He grunts loudly. At this point, the neighbors stop filling noise complaints, the landlord does his job most of the time, and the rent is just too cheap to really be bothered by it. "Feels-feels so good, Jason! Making me feel so good!" Fuck, are those tears in your eyes? Your moans coupled with the sight of your bleary eyes make his dick stir, make his cock grow impossibly harder inside of you.

"Fuckkk, bunny, yeah? Feels good?" Jason's lip finds its way between his teeth, his hips slowing just slightly as he desperately tries not to cum too fast. "Ya want it faster? Ngh-harder?" It seems like another one of his taunts, but it's a genuine question. He can't cum unless his girl does first, so his pleasure is almost entirely reliant on yours.

"S-softer?" He pulls up just a bit, giving you space to think, or at least, hypothetically think. Something about Jason's cock just makes you go so stupid. He gently taps your cheek with the hand on your hip. Jason is well aware of his strength, and thus, the slap stings just enough to bring you back down to Earth.

"Need an answer, pretty. S'this good for ya?" He slows down even more, his hips moving at a draggin pace. This earns a loud, pouty moan from you, a whine at the lack of sensation. You try to move your hips to receive some type of stimulation, but the heavy hand he's got resting on your hip and your wrists prevents you from gaining much traction.

"Y-yes, Jay, feels so good." He smiles at your reluctant admittance. "Please m-move faster, Jay." He coos in your ear, awwing at your pleas, but picking up his pace nonetheless. "S'All ya had to say, pretty. Told ya, gotta use your words." The thought is lost on you though, because as soon as he's back to fucking you like he actually means it, your brain is right back to mush.

Jason takes the opportunity to slip his hand down from your hip to your clit. He can tell by the way your squeezing down around his length that you're getting close to cumming again. "You know what bunny?" He asks, huffing as his thumb frantically strokes your tired clit. "I'm pretty sure-ngh- you're the prettiest fuckin girl in the world."

He can feel all of his resolve dissipating more and more with each stroke, with every brush of his cock against that special, spongy spot on your walls. "I think-f-fuck me- I think," He interrupts himself by pressing a sweltering kiss to your hot flesh. "That your hair," another kiss. "And your tummy," he finishes by delivering another kiss in the center of your chest, his cock swelling with the need to cum.

"Are all Too. Fucking. Cute." He, again, punctuates each slurred word with powerful thrusts, his head hanging in your collar bone, his warm breath ghosting across your sweat-glistened skin. He delivers a few harsh smacks to your pussy, before pressing his thumb back to your clit.

He can feel himself about to hurdle over the edge, and he'll be damned if he finishes before you. He rubs and rubs and rubs at your clit, his thumb slipping from the surplus amount of wetness deliciously oozing out of your cunt. "Fuck, baby! C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," he urges you.

He finally releases his grip on your wrists, letting your arms drop back down to grip at his skin just before they can go numb. "Jason! Jason! Jason!" You call out, chanting his name as the building feeling of an impending orgasm grows within your gut. Your own hips bounce against his, your clammy palms gripping at his scarred skin as your cum for the second time, your mouth agape in a silent moan, your teary eyes rolled back into your head.

Jason can't help himself any longer before his hips come to a stuttering pace, thick ropes of cum flooding your insides as he cums with you with a loud groan. "Aw fuck, that's it pretty girl, that's it," he coos in your ear once the two of you come down from your shared high. He presses kisses to your neck, chin and then your still gasping mouth.

"My pretty girl . . ." His crystal blue eyes hold a tinted darkness within them, his intense gaze focused on the way his cum lazily dribbles out of your pussy. Maybe you need another lesson in self love, he thinks, his exhausted cock slowly coming back to life. "My pretty, pretty fucking girl . . ."

[ambermeh]

Sitting in Chris' lap

warning: smut

It had all started when he called for you to come over, but there were no chairs. Sitting on his lap wasn't something uncommon for the two of you, but, at the same time, you were aware that his brothers and all your friends where nearby. Still, you went ahead. The roughness of his jeans almost scratching on your skin, as your legs weren't covered. His hands laid casually around your waist and on your knees. Rubbing small circles over and over. You had adjusted, not deliberately. But you started to feel his head lay on your shoulder.

'i can feel you on my leg' His whispered. You turned round almost confused at his statement. Of course he could feel you. But his hand started to rest further up your leg. Oh.

Your face reddened at the realisation.

'Chris- please not here' You pleaded not wanting everyone to look at the two of you, incase they had noticed Chris' hand, knowing that he wasn't likely to stop.

'fine, hey me and Y/N are just going upstairs, I've got a bit of a headache' Everyone got back to what they were doing as the two of you left.

Once you had entered another room in this building, Chris sat down. His legs spread open a bit, as he made a gesture for you to sit down.

You followed not long after, sitting on his lap. Although, he had made you sit in front of a mirror. You gazed at his smug and mischievous look on his face.

'well, we're somewhere else now, so you can see yourself while you grind on my dick, okay ma?'

His hand grabbed your neck, allowing you only to look at the two of you in the mirror. The other hand guiding your waist. He rolled you back, you could see him looking between your face and the view of you grinding back. Eyes looking into your somewhat shut eyes through the mirror, as the contact between your pussy and his dick were subdued by his jeans.

'Chris, I need more, need you to put it in' The pressure of grinding barely satisfying you, as well as the slow pace that Chris was going. His hand refusing to let your hips roll faster, as you felt his now hard dick pressing against your clothed core. The wetness now on his jeans as well.

'Nah, this is all you get baby, it can't all be on your terms'

After a few minutes of Chris slightly increasing the speed but then going back to making you slow down your movements, you started to feel a small knot in your stomach. But it was unreachable at this pace. Tears of frustration where beginning to brim in your eyes. The knot in your stomach mocking you as it just stayed a dull ache and not giving you any release.

'I'm close, just need it a bit faster, please Chris'

'Y/N you're not supposed to cum, this was what you wanted, you wanted to be away from everyone. Now, stop crying because you know it will only spur me on and let me use you to get me off, okay?'

Tag list: @soontosturniolo @blahbel668 @mulitfandomslvt @sturnobsessedwhOre

Divider from @/enchanthings

[revelboo]

Just want to say thank you for feeding us consistent 3 michelin star FEASTS I owe you my life 🙇

I’m just having fun 🤣

I Can Feel You Pt 21

Metroplex x Reader

• “You are without a doubt, the worst patient I’ve ever had in my entire life.” Head lifting at Ratchet’s tone to shoot him a sullen look, you pull the blanket back over your head. You’d managed to give him the slip only to find that Metroplex had closed off every access to his interior that you know of and he’d refused to create one for you when you’d asked. Then begged, breaking down crying that you wanted to go home. Ratchet had found you quickly enough and being ignored by the Titan you’d considered your husband had broken something in you. “Don’t make me force feed you. I will and neither of us will enjoy it.”

• But what does it matter if Metroplex doesn’t want you anymore? If he’s thrown you away? Lashing out when the mass displaced medic brushes his servos against your head, you hear him venting tiredly. And he’s tugging the blanket away from you and you’re grimacing when you spot the infuser in his hand. But after getting wrestled and pinned for whatever he’s got in those syringes seven days in a row, you’ve figured out you’re not winning this battle. Optics narrowing suspiciously when you don’t resist, you flinch at the prick and the burn of whatever it is he’s giving you. “I want to go home.” Hate the way your voice breaks and hate even more when he stays there kneeling, letting the hand with the infuser dangle between his spread thighs. Turning away from him when he reaches to rub your head like you’re a little kid sulking. But do you even have a home anymore? He’d let Ratchet take you away, refused to let you come back. Maybe he really doesn’t want to anymore?

• Can’t keep this up. Hearing you crying had felt like his spark was being torn apart. You’d been begging him to let you come home and it had killed him to not give in. But letting you return would really kill you. Still can’t come to terms with the fact that the radiation of his spark was harming you. That loving you was slowly killing you. How many times had he fantasized about spark bonding you? About more than just the neural link, but a real bond? Resisting only because he wasn’t sure what it would do to you. But his spark had always reacted to your presence, reaching out tendrils of energy toward you, unable to reach you, but trying over and over. Wants you back home where you belong, but not if he’s hurting you.

• Curled on your side on the floor of the Medbay despite Ratchet’s grumbled attempts to get you to sleep in the little human sized berth, you feel close to Metroplex this way. Imagining you can feel his internal systems humming up through you. And it’s not like you can sleep anyway, heart aching too much, mind in too much turmoil. Lost now. Watching Ratchet bustling around straightening up the Medbay so he can keep an optic on you, you wonder what they’ll do with you now. Send you back to earth? It’s not like you can stop them if they decide to, if Metroplex really doesn’t want you anymore.

• Awareness stretching out, he finds you. Always finds you, watching over you as you make a soft sound. Crying again to make his spark ache for you. His sweet, little mate. Knows you’re hurting, his resolve to let you heal, to keep away weakening listening to you. Because you’ve cried every night, curling into yourself and he hates it. Wants you back in his arms and he can’t stand this. And once you’re healed? If Ratchet can heal you? He still won’t be able to bring you home without harming you all over again. It’s like he’s being punished for loving you.

• “I’m trying. You know I am,” Ratchet whispers tiredly, pouring over archival data as the drone steps up behind him, slipping out of an access he’d opened to his interior. Head turning toward the main room, awareness torn between the drone and monitoring you, Metroplex knows the medic is trying. That he’s not recharging, staying up to try to find a solution. To fix this. Can’t let you know the drone is here, that he’s here. Afraid you’ll cling to him, beg him and he’ll break. Already feels so broken. Needs to feel you in his arms again. “I’ve found a few anecdotal records about Cybertronian’s spark bonding organics, but I can’t tell if they’re real accounts or myths.” Spark bonding? Had wanted to bond you, but hadn’t thought he could. Was afraid of what bringing you into contact with his spark might do. Of accidentally harming you. But if he can? “A few accounts suggest the Cybertronian shares their lifespan with their bond mate.” If he can bond you, would that protect you from himself or make it worse?

Previous

Next

[yandere-romanticaa]

It was the dawn of another day and yet getting out of the overly comfortable bed was so impossibly challenging, one would think that anyone who would sleep on it was chained up from head to toe. With tousled sheets and a quiet groan, you got up and quickly went to dress yourself as classes would soon be starting.

Being late was not an option, no matter how sweet the temptation of rest may be.

The long robes which were assigned to you were far from flattering but they did the job well enough - you at least somewhat resembled a scribe. The fabric was loose all over your body, making you look less like a student and more like an early morning phantom whose duty it was to shadow the other students. Being the second shadow of Professor Anaxagoras however was as delightful as it was disheartening.

Watching that man merely speak was an experience in it of its own. Everything he said was an absolute truth, he never bothered in sugar coating anything which gave him a somewhat rough reputation amongst the rest of the student body. You could not help but to admire that confidence from time to time. The desire to be strong and better coursed through your veins on the daily and like an overly inflated balloon, it simply popped one day. You were all to aware that there was absolutely nothing spectacular about you - average grades, no special honours or rewards, common background and there was absolutely nothing planned for your long term future.

The feeling could be best described as if you were lost in a thick fog - the murkiness, the tension, it was all so much. For all your life you've been a student and suddenly you are expected to flee from your nest and spread your wings.

The thought was horrifyingly exciting. You just wished to posses the knowledge on where to even start.

It didn't help that it felt as though everyone around you had some sort of plan in store. A career was already waiting for them or perhaps they even started a happy little family of their own and none of those things were even close to being in your grasp. It was so infuriating that it made you want to cry.

To mend the pain even for a little bit, you turned to your professor. He was going to tell you the truth no matter how harsh it may be and you would not mind one bit, no word was going to hurt more than the confusion you had already been drowning in for what seemed like forever.

On a fine spring morning the birds chirped their sweet song, which helped you feel more at ease as you walked throughout the long and imposing corridors, the massive tree wrapping its branches all over the who knows how old walls. Passing by the occasional painting felt odd, as if the people within them had come to life and were taunting you with each step you took.

Fool, they whispered feverishly.

You will never amount to anything.

With a gulp and resound knock, you tapped on the oak door three times politely. Nervousness seeped into your being like water, the sensation filling each and every crack as you immediately started to regret this decision. Gosh, what were you even going to say again? The Professor is such a busy man, there was no way he was ever-

All of a sudden, the door flew open and you were met face to face with your professor. Silky grey hair shimmered underneath the dim light of his office as he cooly granted you permission to enter. He swiftly made his way back towards his comfortable chair and just as he was sitting down, he silently reached out his hand and pointed towards the chair opposite of his own.

Be careful what you wish for was a phrase you would hear on occasion. Perhaps, this might just be a good example of that saying.

Although, such a silent response was not something you saw coming. You figured that he was going to turn you away with a flicker of his hand because who was he to even entertain someone so beneath him?

Covering his lower mouth with his hand, the brilliant man managed to hide the growing smirk on his lips. For a while now he had been watching you, observing the way you would tail behind him like a lost puppy. He took note of your efforts even if they could be a smidge lackluster at times.

At the very least there was some effort put into them. He could give you that praise, and he would gladly do it. But there was a growing desire blooming inside him, a curiosity you had managed to ignite completely by accident. Sometimes he would walk and up and down his office and wonder if he could perhaps mold you into something other than the common fools which surrounded him daily. Or were you going to grow all on your own and find your true calling elsewhere?

There was an odd beauty in that. And Anaxagoras was so curious to see how far you would go to achieve this dream even if you had no idea what that dream was to begin with.

Besides, the egoist in him could not deny the fact that he enjoyed your undivided attention. He could taste the sweetness on his tongue, the all consuming desire of wanting more was overwhelming.

For now, he was going to play the part of the dutiful official who would lend you a helping hand. And he could not wait to see which path you were going to pick in the end.

A/N: I've noticed that for a while now I've been writing only when I'm feeling completely and utterly miserable. This fic was a product of my own insecurities and high key desire to push out something for Anaxa, even if it's not necessarily well done. I say having a hard time in characterizing him even if I have fallen head over heels for him in the 3.1 quest.

Also, writing is fucking hard. It's so damn hard, why did I pick this as my primary hobby. I really am shooting myself in the foot here.

[ln444]

my english love affair

cw: MDNI+18, f!reader, strangers to lovers, soulmates au, fluff, smut, maybe slight angst? depends on how you see it lol, fingering (f), penetration, soft dirty talk, a lot (like a lot) of kissing and sharing long gazes, whipped lando again bc im obsessed sorry.

now playing: english love affair by 5sos, let me by zayn.

notes: omg this took so long 😭 i'm not really confident abt my smut, i feel like i'm writing fluff way better but i hope you like it!! i might write a part 2, let me know if you like this one! enjoy🤍

requested by anon | requests open!

______________________________________________

“when the lights go out, she's all i ever think, i can't forget my english love affair, today i'm seven thousand miles away”

the thought of finally going back to his f1 driver life fills lando with excitement. sure, lando loves england — it's his home, after all. but nothing can compare to the rush he feels when he's in an f1 car, traveling all around the world and meeting his fans.

for his last night town, lando's friends convinced him to hit the club. normally, he prefers staying in to rest before the start of the season but a little fun doesn't hurts, right? he won't have much time to do it during the grand prix.

despite his fame, lando still gets surprised when someone recognizes him, especially at the club. he knows he's known for his looks, and he's aware of the attention from admirers, but it still catches him off guard in real life. sometimes, the attention can be overwhelming, especially when he just wants to have a good time with his friends and ends up with some overly clingy girls.

lando decides to excuse himself, seeking some fresh air. the pressure of the coming season is getting to him, and the situation doesn't help. he finds a quiet spot with a few people smoking and making out, leans against the wall, and closes his eyes for a moment, letting out a relieved sigh.

suddenly, a voice startles him from his thoughts, "did your friends force you to come here too?" his head jerks towards you, and you're standing beside him, out of nowhere. he takes time to answer, surprised by your unexpected presence. after realizing that he left you without any response, he clears his throat, a bit confused, "nah, just needed some fresh air" he mumbles, a small smile forming on his lips. you chuckle slightly, and comment "not surprised, having so many girls fawning over you must be exhausting", there's a small hint of tease in your voice that makes lando's smile grows.

finally, as he turns to study your features under the soft glow of the night lights, lando finds himself entranced by your captivating beauty, the grace of your features leaving an indelible impression on him. he can't help but get lost in your eyes shining in the dim illumination, making it difficult for him to look away. it takes him a good minute to quickly look away, thanking the night for hiding his rosé cheeks.

he gazes at the sky, trying to think of something to say that doesn't sound awkward — and also trying to get his shit together. he suddenly feels the need to make a good impression. "i mean, it's not that i don't appreciate the attention, but wow, they can be quite persistent."

his hands find their way into the pockets of his jacket, and his eyes avoid meeting yours, fearing he might get lost in them again. "yeah, i know. they're my friends," you say with a small chuckle, not because he's making fun of them, but more because of the use of the term 'friends.'

lando's eyes widen, and he turns to you, 'i'm sorry, i didn't mean to-' but he stops himself, looking down, feeling too embarrassed to find the right words. you laugh softly and move closer to him, your shoulders brushing and lando can feel his body tense up due to the closeness.

"hey, it's okay. i don't really consider them my friends, anyway," you say nonchalantly and lando lets out a sigh of relief, a smile slowly spreading on his face. "wow, that's nice for them", you both laugh and lando doesn't miss the way you subtly lean into him, your shoulders finally touching. he turns his head away from you, clearing his throat once more, trying to control the warmth spreading through his body.

"hey", you suddenly call out after a minute of tranquil silence and lando dares to meet your gaze, instantly regretting when he's captivated by your radiant eyes. he finds himself unable to look away and you both share an intense, unspoken connection, as if you've known each other for years. everything feels perfectly right at this moment.

"wanna get out of here?" you finally suggest, your words barely more than a whisper, your focus entirely on lando's mesmerizing eyes. you take his hand, both fitting perfectly like two puzzle pieces and you let him drag you in the dark streets.

after a walk filled with stolen gaze and silly conversations, you found yourself on lando's couch, engrossed in his f1 souvenirs and you have never felt so much passion, feeling your heart soften every time your see that sparkles in his eyes. lando never thought that his night will end up like this. sure, he might ended up with a girl from the club like he usually do, but this time was different. he never really experienced this; having sweet and innocent conversations with a stranger from a club. the atmosphere is tranquil yet there's a subtle tension in the air.

lando couldn't help but be his flirty self, playfully teasing you from time to time. however, your responses makes him somewhat nervous — it's a new sensation to him, having a girl making him feel this way. perhaps it's the way you gazes at him with patience and attention, your lovely smile that you share generously with him or how closely you listen to his random f1 stories. lando and you end up scrolling through photos in his phone, with him recounting the stories behind each one. he couldn't help but feel his heart melt your reactions; your smiles, your laughs, and your curiosity as you ask for more details and share your own anecdotes.

a soothing silence descended, and the two of you sit beside each other, thighs and shoulders lightly touching. lando struggles to contain the fluttering feeling in his stomach when you turn to look at him. he dares to meet your gaze, trying to focus on your eyes rather than your enticing lips. lost in each other eyes, you can't tear your gazes away. a brand new emotion envelops both of you, one that's strangely familiar yet undeniably unique, as though destiny has brought you together in this very moment and lando can't help but wonder if soulmates might actually exist.

you finally speak, after what feels like an eternity, in a soft voice, "you can kiss me, lando", you whisper like it's a secret. lando stomach tighten and he don't even take the time to answer, gently placing his hand on your cheek to pull you for a shy kiss. your lips discover each other, timidly and your hands instinctively slides around his neck to pull him closer.

you can't seem to get enough of each other, savoring every moment as you explore each other's mouths. lando's hand venture on your hips, and the chill of his touch sends shivers down your spine, as you suppress a soft moan in your throat. the kiss grows more intense, both of you yearning for more. without the need for words, you share an unspoken understanding of each other's needs, as if you've been intimately connected for ages. out of breath, you both finally pull away, foreheads touching, sharing a playful gaze, giggling and blushing like teenagers experiencing their very first kiss.

after one last sweet peck on the lips, lando takes your hand and stands, guiding you towards the bedroom, careful not to stumble due to both your impatience and the lingering dizziness of that passionate kiss.

not wasting time, he gently guides you onto the bed, positioning himself on top of you. he can't resist the urge to pause and admire you, your eyes shimmering in the soft glow of the dim lights. before he gets lost in that gaze, his eyes roam to study every detail of your face, causing you to blush and squirm beneath him. your arms tighten around his neck, and you chuckle, bringing lando back to the present. "like what you see?" you whisper, stealing a smile from him as he draws closer, his lips teasingly brushing against yours. "oh, absolutely," he murmurs before capturing your lips in a kiss. this time, it feels different; electrifying.

lando's hands slips, beneath your dress, and this time a whimper escapes your lips, making lando smirk through the kiss. his hands dares to explore the skin of your thighs, creating an unusual feeling in your stomach — and making your pussy slightly throb. your fingers finds their way into his curls, gripping onto them as the kiss becomes messier; your tongues dancing together.

"just take it off already" you huff and puff, seeing lando struggling and he lets out a chuckle "damn, someone is impatient", he says, teasing you, before finally taking your dress off. his eyes travel your body, and you've never felt so vulnerable, your cheeks burning. lando let out an unwanted groan, completely loving the view and he stares a bit too long until you pull him for another kiss to put him out of his thoughts. he takes a moment to kiss you back and it's your turn to slide your hands beneath his shirt, playing with the lines of his abdomen, making him moan softly against your lips.

after a good minute of kissing and touching, you finally take off his shirt and his pants, on the way, leaving you both in your underwear. lando leaves kisses along your jawline, going down to your chest, his hand sliding in your back to unbutton your bra and the way your boobs bounce out of it makes lando groan, feeling his erection grows. your grip on his hair gets tighter as you watch him play with your nipples, flicking it and licking it and the view drives you crazy.

you moan his name softly, pulling on his hair to make him look at you and you share a long stare, full of lust, both craving for more. you pull him for a sloppy kiss, trying to show how impatient you are and lando gets the message, pulling down your panties and getting rid of his boxers.

lando's mouth leaves yours and is replaced by his fingers, stealing a whimper from you. your eyes meets his as you suck on his fingers and, if they could, his eyes would burn holes into yours. lando found himself getting more and more impatient, the way you suck on his fingers with that irresistible look making it harder for him to contain it.

pulling out his fingers out of your mouth and without leaving your eyes for a second, his two fingers found your hole, slipping gently in it and you throw instinctively your head backwards, a moan escaping your mouth. lando take a good look at you in that position before taking the opportunity to leave kisses on your exposed neck, fighting the urge to suck on it to not leave marks, not wanting to overstep your boundaries.

"feeling okay?" he whispers softly, his breath hitting your skin, making it difficult for you to fight the whimpers escaping your mouth. lando takes a minute to look at you, to make sure that you don't feel any pain or discomfort.

"mmh'yes, you can move, please oh my god" you desperately says and lando can't help but pull you for another messy kiss. his fingers start moving in you, stretching your walls and you become a moaning mess, your eyes closing and lando takes advantage of it to admire you, his moves getting faster and faster.

"are you close, princess?" he murmurs close to your lips, feeling your body trembling and hearing the way your moans gets louder. you can only shake your head; feeling the bottom of your stomach getting warmer and the nickame almost make you choke on your moans. lando slows down to make scissors movements, his thumb rubbing your clit to help you reach your climax. he can't take off his eyes of you, inspecting every aspect of your face; the way your face crunches and your mouth is slightly open to let multiple sounds out of it. he could almost come just by this sight, his own crotch getting bigger.

with a loud and long moan, you finally climax, arching your back and lando plant soft pecks on your neck, whispering sweet words to you and telling you how good you're doing. breathless, you absently stroke his hair and close your eyes for a moment trying to calm the beat of your heart but lando makes it hard; his hands traveling your body and his lips attached to the skin of your neck.

the sudden emptiness when lando pulls out his fingers make you whimper and he lift his head to meet your gaze — he lost count of how many times he got lost in your eyes tonight. your hand make its way to his cock and the sudden touch makes lando slightly startle, a groan leaving his mouth. before you start stroking it, his hand comes to stop you immediately and you look at him, confused and with a hint of worry; silently asking him if you did something wrong.

"wanna fuck you now or i might go crazy", he says, almost whimpering and you slightly laugh, pulling his face closer to yours. "someone is impatient huh", you tease, a small smirk forming on your lips and he can't help but mirror that smirk. "how can i not when you look at me like that?" he takes your bottom lip between his teeth before kissing you again, his body getting closer and his cock brushing on your pussy makes you both moan through the kiss. you take his dick, once again, in your hand to guide it through your hole this time. and slowly, he penetrates you, a long groan escaping his lips at how tight you feel around him and you break the kiss to moan loudly.

"so fucking tight, baby, just for me", he mumbles close to your lips and you can't even answer, too overwhelmed by the way he's filling you — and his dirty words. when you finally adjust, he doesn't waste any minutes and start moving. you both moan in unison, holding into each other like your life depends on it. he watches you go crazy over his cock; the way your eyes gets watery, the way you hold into the sheets — your other hand too busy pulling his hair —, the way you can't control the continuous moans, his name slipping out of your mouth from time to time and encouraging him to go deeper into you. and he does go deeper, slowing down the pace to thrust into you as deep as he can, reaching your sensitive spot.

"right here? like that, baby?" he moans, feeling you tightening around him. his voice makes it harder for you to hold your growing orgasm. your hand leaves the sheets to hold onto his shoulder, your nails crawling into his skin. lando suddenly feels the urge to look at you in the eyes — maybe because his orgasm is getting close too. his hand finds a way to your neck, his fingers wrapping around it gently "look at me, angel", he says in a husky voice that could make you come at any moment. struggling to keep your eyes open, you try your best to hold his gaze, the way he's looking at you making you insane.

his thrusts gets faster and you can't control the sounds escaping from your mouth anymore. you look away for a moment, too overwhelmed and lando's hand travels to your face, cupping it gently to keep it straight "eyes on me, love". you obey, meeting his gaze and it's all too much for you.

you don't even have to use words for lando to understand that you're getting close, the way your eyes gets watery and your body shakes is enough. with his hand going back to your throat, lando accompany you into your orgasm, enjoying the way you scream his name and you manage to hold his gaze. his own orgasm comes a few minutes after yours and he makes sure to pull out before ejaculating, his groans echoing in the room. he immediately falls besides you and you both just stay like this: his leg over yours, your hand still in his hair as you try to catch your breath. lando uses his last drops of strength to grab a tissue from the nightstand and clean his fresh cum on your stomach.

he pulls you close again, linking your legs together and letting you play with his hair. the silence is so peaceful; the warm of your bodies making you both relax immediately. a smile unconsciously forms on lando's lips at the sight of your tired face, your eyes shining in the almost dark atmosphere of the night. you look back at him, smiling back and giggling, making lando raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"what's so funny?" he says, fighting the smile growing on his lips. "i just slept with the lando norris", you tease and lando groans, hiding his face in his arm. "i knew you were a fan!" he replies playfully, playing along. you laugh in sync and lando's heart feels at peace; all the worries about the incoming season completely forgotten. your hand gently plays with his curls as you absently stare at the ceiling, an unbeatable smile on your face.

lando, on the other side, can't take his eyes off you, watching you slowly fall asleep and enjoying your fingers in his hair. and just before you completely close your eyes, you turn to him, offering him a last kiss; so tender and passionate that your hearts both might burst out of your chests. pulling out, lando watches you fall asleep, not fighting the smile on his face anymore.

he usually struggles to sleep before an important day but this time, his mind is only filled with you and this night spent by your side. and just like that, it's lando's turn to meet the sandman.

-

with a groan, lando struggles to reach and silence the blaring alarm. the morning sunlight aggressively shines through the curtain, making him shield his face with his arm, staying in half asleep state for a minute as he gradually gets out of it.

then it suddenly hits him; you're no longer beside him.

lando suddenly starts to panic, jolting him into full wakefulness. he springs out of the bed and desperately search for any signs of you in every room of his apartment but you're nowhere to be found. he mutters curses under his breath, passing a hand to his messy hair — the thought of you messing his hair last night making him even more frustrated. defeated, he returns to the bedroom, his gaze falling on the tousled sheets where everything happened. as lando realizes that he didn't even ask for your name, frustration festered within him, causing him to clench his hair.

however, amidst his self reproach, a small piece of paper on the nightstand catch his attention, and he immediately rushes to it.

"we will meet again, i promise. you're going to kill it, lovely boy. y/n, x"

lando can't even fight the smile creeping on his lips, his heart softening — it was beating way too fast just by the thought of not even knowing your name. he sinks back onto the bed, your smell immediately hitting him and making him even happier. he reads those few words repeatedly and his hands falls onto his chest, holding the paper close to his heart as he whispers your name again and again, savoring its melodious sound. lando can't help but tell himself that soulmates might exist.

"i am going to kill it,", lando murmured to himself, a foolish grin etching on his face.

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part 2?:p join the tag list here!

masterlist

[politemenacephd]

Stress Relief (18+)

Miguel O'Hara X GN!Reader Content: Heavy Daddy Kink, Mild degradation, Workplace sex, Spanking, PinV sex, Size Kink, Mild Breeding kink, Creampie

Notes: (No gendered terms are used for reader and there's no mention of characteristics, but vaginal terminology is used so be aware!!) forgive me I'm just a little feral rn lol

‘Mm- f-fuck, Mig—’

‘Shh, shh.’

Miguel’s sharp rebuttal made you pout, but the feeling of his fat cock stretching you out quickly humbled you once more. You bit your lip as he continued to rail your body into his desk.

‘Come on, one more.'

‘F-Fuck—daddy.’

You felt your face burning as you offered up that sweet gratification, and he rewarded you with a sharp smack to your bare ass. You felt him grunt with pleasure as it bounced against his calloused hand.

‘Así así, mm- tu pucha está mojadita' he murmured, more to himself than to you.'

You were bent over his work desk which he had hovering in the air, offering just the barest semblance of privacy for your little fuckfest. You’d only come in to give him some paperwork from Jess. Now he was balls deep inside you with your waist in his grip, his fingers barely an inch away from squeezing your little ribs to dust.

You knew he must be stressed, because he hadn’t even bothered to fully undress either you or himself. He’d phased away the part of his suit covering his cock the moment he had you over his knee, and while he'd remained patient enough to slip your clothes aside he'd then immediately riped a hole in your panties to get what he wanted.

You could still feel them there, sopping wet and tight around your ass and lips, utterly spoiled by the copious slick he was pumping out of you with each thrust.

‘You like that, huh?’

‘Mm- so, so good—’

‘You like daddy’s cock?’

You involuntarily squirted as he angled his shaft deep, your translucent slick left hanging in strings between your pussy and his pelvis. The clap of his skin on your rear was now resoundingly wet, the debaucherous sounds echoing in his giant office.

‘Fuck- I’m gonna have to clean my suit’ Miguel grunted. You whimpered, thinking at first that you’d somehow displeased him, but then a low groan vibrated through his chest. His clawed hand came down hard on your right ass cheek, his palm leaving a large and distinct red mark. The sting made you squirm.

‘So fuckin’ dirty, huh?’ he panted. You could hear the gratification in his voice, so husky and deep.

‘Someone’s—MM—Someone’s gonna hear that’ you whimpered. If Miguel heard you, he didn’t indicate it, as he refused to slow down.

He was pussy drunk beyond reason. He didn’t care if he got caught.

‘Say it again’ he barked. A fresh slap to your ass caused it to jiggle, and before you could even finish moaning he’d used both hands to spread your cheeks wide. Your feet scrabbled at the floor with each toe-curling insertion, each sopping wet thop of his cock as it filled you.

‘F-FF—Daddy, fuck—’

‘Mm. Again.’

He was being merciless today. You could barely get the words out as he thrust you against the cold metal desk.

‘D—mm- da—dadd—daddy—’

‘Again.’

You felt him throb and you clenched him right back. You felt every inch of his shaft as it pulsed, every vein and every contour now imprinted on the velvety walls of your cunt. You knew he’d already painted your cervix with his pre-cum, like a fingerprint pressed onto your insides.

‘Please, daddy, more’ you begged.

You squeaked as he suddenly lifted your thigh up and onto the desk. The metal was cold on your bare skin. He bent your back and arched inside as deep as he could, filling you with a virile mixture of pleasure and pain in your core. He was thrusting right up to the navel.

‘F-FUCK—’

You had to bite your hand to muffle your wet little moans, but Miguel was merciless. He reached around and gripped your neck as he pulled you taut, his pace quickening as he started to pump you to completion.

‘That’s it, mm- fuck, that’s it, so god damn tight, so—’

‘Hey! Miguel!’

Your eyes widened in horror as a voice echoed up from the floor of his office. They widened even further when Miguel refused to stop.

‘I’M BUSY!’ he snapped back, his voice rising to mask how breathless he was.

Miguel’s hand went smoothly from your neck to your mouth, helping to muffle your pathetic mewling from being heard. Thank god he had because he chose that moment to slide back against your g-spot, right as his balls started smacking your clit. You squirted in silence for a third time.

On this occasion, you felt Miguel take notice. He slid his hand down to where your skin met and covered his claws in your slick, letting it drip between his digits as he held them up.

You heard something wet, and as you tilted your head you realized he was licking it off his fingers.

‘Oh, uh- sorry! Just—we need your help with something!’ the voice called for a second time. You heard Miguel’s fangs clack.

‘I SAID IM BUSY!’ he snapped back down, his voice carrying a certain gruff bark to it this time around.

You could feel the sweat on his thighs as they clapped your bare legs. His thighs were huge, sculpted and hard just like the rest of him. You knew he could break your back if he wanted. Good thing right now he just wanted your pussy.

‘Oh, uh- okay! Sorry, I’ll- catch you up later!’

You heaved a silent sigh of relief, but it was short lived. The moment the intruders footsteps had echoed into nothing Miguel let out a vicious grunt, and soon your body was being pounded into the desk once more.

‘Alright, come on, time to let daddy finish’ Miguel groaned. You could feel him humping to completion, his cock fucking you raw. You barely stopped yourself from screaming.

‘Say it’ he ordered.

‘Daddy!’

‘More.’

‘Daddy, fuck—’

Your soft moans filled the room with the clap of his thrusts. Your whole body was bouncing now.

‘Come on, that’s it. You wanna make me a daddy for real?’ he breathlessly teased.

In a flood of dumb pleasure your cunt clenched him tight, so tight that his knees almost gave out.

‘MM—Fuck, please, yes daddy, please!’ you cried.

That was enough for him. His claws sprang out and dug into your waist as he emptied himself out, his cock pulsing load after load of thick, white seed into your pussy. It was almost scary how much he managed to fill you with. You could feel it squishing, oozing, thick and heavy inside you, warm and wet as it dribbled down your thigh before he even pulled out.

The moment he was spent he pulled out and immediately phased his suit back on. He tried to help you by pulling your panties back over, but they were ruined. They’d been ripped by the friction and served just to hang there all pretty over your creamy little hole. You could sense him admiring the view.

‘Good, well done’ he praised in his usual stilted way. He put a hand on your head and gently scratched at your scalp with his claws. You barely even noticed; you were trying not to collapse as your legs shook.

‘You did good. Now uh- go clean up for me baby, okay?'

[nothorses]

You've made a lot of really great posts about transmasc experiences and struggles, and they really resonate with me! So I guess I want to in complete earnest ask: why the push for 'transandrophobia' when anti-transmasculinity as a term has been around for longer and faces little friction by comparison? I don't really *dislike* transandrophobia, but its meaning gets muddied everywhere from different directions, while ATM is pretty direct and succinct I feel. It's very clear that it's about TRANSmasculine oppression. I'm not against having a dedicated term at all, but the content of our struggles gets lost in the weeds of attaching kind of understandably divisive terms like misandry and androphobia in an attempt to mirror a phenomenon very specifically about misogyny; it seems more trouble than it's worth considering ATM is right there

I'll be honest, this ask is confusing to me for a few reasons.

When I started talking about transandrophobia around the summer of 2020, the conversations I was encountering were very much, like, a handful of people across Twitter and Tumblr (literally, a handfull!). I picked up "transandrophobia" because it was one of two words I saw in use, and the other- "transmisandry"- felt much less clear and much more contentious. It seemed super obvious to me that people would draw a line from "men's rights activists" trying to push this idea that "misandry", as a systemic oppression of men by women, to "transmisandry", and assume some ill intent where there was none. It's confusing!

"Transandrophobia" was the better of two options being floated at the time, at least in any conversation I saw. "Anti-transmasculinity" was not really a term I'd been made aware of, if anyone at all was talking about it at the time.

I have seen people pick up "anti-transmasculinity" more recently (maybe in the last year?), and this is definitely the first I've seen someone shorten it to "ATM". The people I've seen use that term have been mostly people who seem really new to the conversation, and the vibe I've gotten has been very, like, "we're the Good Transmascs, our word isn't dirty and gross like those other Bad Transmascs everyone hates. you'll listen to us now that our word is Good and Pure, right?"

Which is like... kind of frustrating, and kind of sad, honestly. I think these people honestly believe that if they just choose the right word, all the people who've been dragging me and every other transmasc talking about these issues through the mud for the last 4 years or so will really just stop & listen. If they can just say it right, these people- who have been relentlessly harassing and spreading lies about every single transmasc who came before them for years now- will care what they have to say, and will be willing to engage with them in earnest, compassionate dialogue.

If you just find the right word, all of these people will care about your hurt, your pain, and the suffering of your community.

It kind of breaks my heart. It's an incredibly hopeful, kind, loving way to view the world. It's compassion and patience and forgiveness that these folks are not being given, but that they so badly want to offer to others.

And at the same time, it sucks to be the Bad Transmasc. It sucks to have fought so hard for so long, and for the people I've been fighting for all this time to turn around and say, "you're gross, and dirty, and evil, and everything you've done is a mistake." It sucks to see the people I've been fighting for agree with the people I've been fighting against, and shove me under the bus in an effort to appeal to the people running me over with it. Knowing that the bus is going to aim for them once it's done with me just makes it sadder, yknow?

@saint-speaks wasn't the first person to ever speak the word "transandrophobia", but he is the one who coined and popularized it in its current form. And then he was dragged through the mud so hard and so brutally that some people think I coined it, just because when I defended him (too little and too late, imo) I withstood the mud-dragging better than he did (and gee, I wonder white.)

And now people take for granted that everything everyone said about hymn to justify that frankly fucking evil harassment campaign was true, actually, and we should abandon the word he coined and find one with purer origins.

If you honestly think "anti-transmasculinity" is just a more practical word, that's fine. I don't care what word we use. But they're going to cover it in mud, too. They're going to cover every one of you in mud.

Will you keep fighting for "ATM" once they make it the new dirty, gross, bad, evil word? Will you keep fighting when they drag you and everyone else through the mud for using it? Or will you agree with them, make up a new word, and never look back?

Please don't let us drown in the mud. We've been fighting for you, and we want to fight with you. Please.

[rivalsispunk]

Professor O'Hara

Professor!Declan O’Hara x AFAB reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, cursing, age gap romance (unidentified, reader is legal and in university), mention of male appendages, mention of male and female orgasm, pussy pronouns, smut smut SMUTTTT, slight brat tamer Declan, light bondage

Word count: 3.1k

Summary: Your university professor is looking a lil' too good, but he doesn't appreciate you teasing him mid-lesson.

Today, Professor Declan O’Hara’s opted for a more casual look, a little removed from the sports coats and ties he usually wears to teach. No, today it’s brown slacks and boots paired with a Levi’s denim button down that’s splayed open at his collarbone, tufts of dark chest hair creeping up the bare skin there. He always looked good, but his current outfit elicits murmurs of appreciation that rifle through the classroom as he speaks passionately about — God, you don’t even know what. You’re no better than your peers, stuck lustfully on the whole chest hair situation.

“That’s all for today, guys,” Declan eventually announces, and the sound of shuffling of feet and closing of textbooks is almost immediate. Then comes your name leaving your professor’s lips, all drenched in that delicious Irish lilt of his while he stuff his belongings into his briefcase.

“Can you stay behind a few minutes?” he asks flatly. “I just have some feedback for you about your midterm essay.”

You nod curtly at his request, trying not to let a grin escape your rolled lips.

“God, that sounds grim,” one of your classmates whispers as you stand from your seats in the front row. “I’ll meet you in the quad in ten minutes?”

You glance from her to Declan, then back to your friend. “How about I catch up with you later? This might take a while.”

Because what she doesn’t know, what nobody knows, is that your professor has no intention of discussing any coursework with you. You and him are both well aware you’re hardly in need of feedback when it comes to your studies. No, what Declan wanted from you was far more intimate than a discussion about notes in the margin of a page.

The first time you laid eyes on Declan in the flesh was orientation week of your final year of university, when campus was buzzing over the news that a TV star had joined the faculty, the famed journalist and TV host’s name on everybody’s lips. You, for one, were thrilled to see his name on your schedule, Declan — Professor O’Hara — now taking this term’s advanced media ethics lecture. Growing up, you loved watching his BBC program, then followed his career when he made the leap to Corinium. Now that Venturer was an up and running well-oiled machine, Declan decided to take a step back from the network for a term to add teaching to his resume. He felt he ought to try his hand at shaping the next generation of journalists, and as a budding one yourself, having someone so experienced and respected in the industry was just what you needed to give you the leg up in your future career. You’d arrived at the first class exceptionally early, eager to get a front row seat. You’d poured through all of the compulsory readings and stuck it out through the optional chapters too, so you were prepared if Declan called on you. Given the excitement over his arrival, you’d expected at least a few other students to have the same idea as you, but when you swung through the ornate timber door, the lecture hall was empty, cold. Aside from Declan O’Hara, who ignited the room with a lopsided smile at the sight of his first student. It warmed you from head to toe and spread to far more sinister places as you took in his form, so much taller and handsome than you’d anticipated after years of watching him on a grainy television screen.

That smile was the first of many you’d share as the weeks of classes unfolded and though he’d never let it slip, you very soon became his favourite pupil. Switched on, intelligent and mature beyond your years, it was no wonder he’d first thought you were another staff member when you entered his classroom. He’d hoped you didn’t notice his smile falter after you introduced yourself and took a seat in the front row of the tiered seating, solidifying your status as a student. If you were another faculty member, he could get away with flirting. He could go about his lectures without fumbling over his words because you giggled quietly at something your friend had whispered to you, a grin pinching a beautiful flush on your cheeks. 

You were a student. He was a professor. There were rules about that. Rules Declan knew he should uphold. That he tried to uphold. But after weeks of you being so fucking smart (a turn-on for Declan if there ever was one), after you’d signed up for his optional professor-led study groups and blown your peers out of the water, after one session ran particularly late, leaving just you and Declan once the other students ditched for other plans, those rules went completely out the stained glass window of the library room you were sat in. You were all hands and crashing mouths, a tidal wave of tongues and knowing smiles, not unlike the one Declan is giving you now as you wait for the last few students to trickle out of the room.

“Get on the desk,” he says as soon as the door creaks shut with a heavy thud.

“What?” You’re taken aback at his demand, eyes darting wildly between him, the desk and the door. “Right here? Anyone could walk in.” At least when you hooked up in his office, the room could be locked.

“Yes, right here,” he confirms flatly. He rounds the desk…. Stalks towards you, forcing you backwards until the backs of your thighs hit the cool timber. “You don’t get the privilege of privacy when you’ve been sat there taunting me with your bare pussy.” He cups you roughly under your mini skirt and you gasp at the sudden contact.

You’d purposely gone without underwear today, knowing full well that from his spot at the front of the hall, Declan would have the perfect view. However, you didn’t think he’d noticed. He’d remained his usual poised and charming self the whole hour, eyes occasionally meeting yours for a fleeting second, no differently to any other student.

Oh, but he’d noticed. As soon as he launched into his introduction into the intersection of culture in media, you’d spread your knees just so, holding in a moan as the cool air hit your core. Declan’s cock jumped to life behind his slacks but he kept on with his train of thought, although the remainder of the class came from behind the cover of his desk.

“You think it’s cute to tease me like that when you know I can’t do anything about it?” he growls down at you, hand unwavering despite the pool of arousal forming between you. You cant into his hand, desperate for friction against your bundle of nerves. You knew your little act of rebellion would infuriate him, get him riled up to the point he’d be unforgiving with you. Still, you feign dumb, peering up at him through your thick eyelashes.

“Hmm? Do you?”

“No,” you say quietly, writhing to no reprieve.

“No, what?”

“No, Declan.”

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, already dark eyes almost black. “No, what?”

“No professor,” you relent, the title he loves so much falling out amid a sigh.

Declan’s moustache quirks, satisfied. “Good girl.” Then he sinks his thick middle finger into you, right to the knuckle, immediately probing your G-spot. He repeats the movement over and over, drawing barely-there whimpers from you. Once he’s warmed you up, he slips an additional finger in and his thumb latches onto your clit, rubbing circles in tandem with every pump of his wrist. 

“Oh, God,” you whisper, legs seconds away from buckling as Declan speeds up. His lips come to brush your own, gently, and you keen into his touch, needing a taste of him. But just as quickly as he leaned in, he’s rearing back. As he does, he withdraws his fingers from you, taking a pathetic whine with it. 

You’d slap the smug grin off his face if it wasn’t so goddamn sexy. 

“Teasing’s not so fun when you’re on the receiving end of it, is it, darlin’?”

Takes fingers into his mouth, eyes locked on yours, drags them out at what should be an illegally slow pace with a pop. The act is so simple yet so inherently sexual, you watch him in such awe, as if he’s just defied gravity right in front of you.

“So sweet, f’me,” he whispers, then jerks his chin at you. “On the desk. I’m not asking this time.”

You do as he says, hoisting yourself up so you’re teetering on the edge, ignoring the scuffling of shoes and chatter buzzing in the hallway. Declan fills the space between your thighs, his hips nudging them even more widespread as he brings his mouth to yours. His moustache grazes like steel wool on your upper lip, his tongue fighting for purchase against your own, the taste of yourself mingling with the hazy aftermath of the cigarette Declan huffed down before class. His hands have a tight grip on either side of your faces until one comes to fist your hair at the back of your neck, scalp tingling as he snaps your head back to lick a stripe up your throat. You’re writhing on the desk now, needing Declan to fucking touch you down there while he sucks a kiss into your pulse. 

“Are you gonna behave now and stop being a prick tease?” he wants to know

“Depends,” you counter. “Are you going to stop being a prick and let me come?”

Cheeky fucking girl, Declan thinks and, as if he couldn’t get any harder, his dick strains against his trousers, battling his zipper. “I’ll take that as a no then.”

Dropping to his knees, he pays no mind to the pain that shoots up his back when his joints hit the hardwood floors. His hands grip your knees, pushing them apart as far as they’ll go as he begins the assault on your cunt. You can’t keep up as he alternates between nibbling and sucking your clit like he’s been starved for weeks and you're the only thing to cure his famine. Your hands are pitched against the desktop behind you, steadying yourself while you lean backwards so Declan has full access as he relentlessly laps you up.

“Declan,” you pant, still jerking your hips to meet his mouth. “So good.”

He smiles against your pussy, his tongue flicking your clit harder, faster, as two of his thick fingers press back into your hole.

“Oh, fuck.” The combination of tongue and fingers pushes you closer to the edge, pins and needles rippling through your toes. “Declan… Gonna come,” you seethe through ragged breaths, eyes closing at the pleasure mounting deep in your stomach. You’re nearly there, on the brink of your orgasm wracking through you and—

Nothing.

Your climax recedes, your cunt immediately missing Declan’s warm mouth when he pulls back and cool air stings your moist centre. Again, you whine, this time at being denied the ecstasy that was right there. Your eyes flutter open and you glare at him, brows drawn together, silently asking what the fuck? Declan leers back up you, moustache glistening with your slick.

“I asked if you were going to behave.”

“Declan—professor—I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I’ll—” “Too late for that, love. You’ll come when I tell you to come, and not a second before,” he tells you, voice gravelly as he stands, his tall frame casting a shadow over you. “Got it?”

You nod incessantly, head bobbing so quickly you’re surprised it doesn’t fall off. Whatever, anything, as long as he just keeps touching you.

“Alright, then. Stand up. Face the blackboard.”

Scrambling, you follow his instructions, staring at his notes from class scrawled in chalky handwriting. You’re already wobbly on your feet, both from the orgasm stolen away from you and your nerves, as you remember the fact that anybody could walk in at any given moment. If you got caught, you’d get expelled. Declan would be fired. Not to mention he’s married. But right now, you can’t find it in you to care, not when the jingle of his belt buckle echoes through the empty classroom and he yanks your hands together at the base of your spine. Soft leather wraps around your wrists, and you gasp, pussy clenching, then hiss when Declan pulls the belt so tight it wears against your bones.

“Be good,” he snips from behind you, quietly, his hands coming to rake your hair over your shoulder before his fingers start trailing feather-light lines down the back of your black, skin-tight sweater. The gesture is intimate, soft. Relaxing if not for your heart galloping in your chest, shattering against your ribs. He roams to the front of your body, bearish hands pawing at your tits as he ruts his steely cock against your arse cheeks. “Been absolutely aching for you all mornin’,” Declan whispers against the shell of your ear while he kneads your chest. “Seeing you so wet f’me… Couldn’t get that class over with fast enough.” As soon as the words come to a halt, a hand goes to the base of your neck and snaps you forward so you’re bent in half, right cheek flush against Declan’s desk. The eye closest to the timber waters, squashed half-closed in the position as you stare at the ginormous door that taunts you while your professor yanks your green skirt over your arse, brandishing it with a slap that wracks your entire body. “Little fucking brat.”

The slaps stings your skin but feels so fucking good at the same time, your arousal sticking the apex of your thighs together. Declan doesn’t sooth the pain with a soft hand or a kiss where a raised, red handprint is undoubtedly forming, just unzips his slacks, the generally mundane sound deafening as you await the inevitable.

Declan watches your body rise and fall with heaving breaths, his cock, sprung free of his boxers, a hardened red rod aimed directly for your weeping cunt. The pre-cum that’s formed at his top glistens under the hall’s fluorescent lighting, and he uses his palm to spread it down his length, pumping languidly, once, twice, before lining himself up at your hole. You drag your teeth over your bottom lip, feeling him just inches away from where you need him most. He’s stalling, if only for his own gratification. You can practically feel him grinning when you groan, your bound hands pulsing helplessly in the air as you try to reach for him.

“What do you need, love?” Declan asks.

“Need you. Need you to fuck me,” you plead, wiggling your legs apart. “Professor, please.” It’s the please that does it for him, your begging single handedly burying Declan’s cock inside you to the hilt. You’re immediately full and fluttering around him, and he wastes no time in dragging himself in and out of your cunt at an unforgiving pace, his hands creating bruises at your hips while he snaps his own against your arse.

“Fucking missed this. Missed your tight pussy. Made just f’me,” Declan grunts, every word punctuated by each pump of his cock. You moan, completely pathetic and pliable for the older man hunched above you. Your eyes loll closed while your body slides against the desk with Declan’s rigorous movement. One of his hands comes to your cheek, sprawling flat palm pushing your head against the treated wood, completely deafening you on one side while your other ear is assaulted with grunts and expletives. “Good girl, fucking take it from your professor. You like that, huh?”

You nod, as much as you can under the weight of his hand, your moans a jumble of yes and please and don’t fucking stop I’m gonna come.

Declan’s close too, already tiring of the pedantic pace he’s set, and every single one of your whines threatens to tip him over the edge.

“You ready to come, darlin’?” he asks, though he knows you’ve been waiting and ready since you chose to go sans underwear this morning. Since you decided to tease him. “Go on, let me hear it.”

His permission is all you need to let go, a pathetic squeal wrapped in a fuuuuck tumbling from your lips as you spasm beneath Declan, sweat pooling between your tits, his fingernails digging crescents into the flesh of your hips. Not five seconds later, barbaric grunts sound above you as Declan shoots ropes of hot come inside you, your orgasm milking him of his own. The hand that had you pinned down comes to stroke your hair as your shuddering slows down, Declan sighing as his last drop seeps out of his swollen head. 

“Jesus Christ,” he says, mourning the feeling of your warm cunt as he slips out. He gently slides your skirt back over your arse and undoes his belt from your wrists, quietly slipping it back through the loops around the waistband of his trousers. You remain facedown on the desk, waiting for instruction while your heart thrums down to a regular rate. Declan finds your forearms, gently lifting you to stand and face him. You both look completely fucked out, your mascara smudged one eye, sweat beading in the chest hair visible under his shirt, moisture seeping in the material where its covered.

Declan rakes his left hand over his face, wedding band glinting in the light when he drops his arm to remove a lazy smile. “You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?”

You shrug, trying to remain nonchalant despite the pride swelling in your chest at the backwards compliment. As you lean down to grab your bag from where you’d discarded it on the floor, you feel Declan begin to leak out of you. You shudder, partly from the aftershock of your climax, partly because of the fact you’ve been in here so long you’re going to have to go to your next class full of your professor’s come. Not to mention the whole no underwear situation.

“You got literature next?” Declan asks, as if he can read your mind. The comment’s casual, too, like he didn’t just fuck your brains out in the middle of a lecture hall.

“Yeah,” you respond, slipping your bag onto your shoulder. “Next building over.”

Declan nods, sly smile sliding onto his face. “Good. My office hours begin after that.”

“I know.” You’ve been making good use of those office hours for quite some time.

“Make sure you come by,” he tells you. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Masterlist

[gingerteafairy]

𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐧-𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞

Isn't it funny when students make suppositions about their professors? Even more when the one in question is pregnant. Prime material for gossip.

tags n warnings: brief smut/mdni, professor!tangerine x fem!professor!reader, est. relationship, long term implied, pregnant!reader, suggestive ending, breeding kink, maybe grumpy x sunshine trope, language, saphiofilia, breast play, praise kink. word count: 1.4k masterlist versão brasileira

You and Tangerine had been in a stable relationship for a long time. He loved you more than anything in the world, so it was only natural for him to find it strange at first that you wanted to keep the relationship under wraps. The main reason? You were both professors at the same university.

It wasn’t necessarily wrong—there weren’t any rules prohibiting two professors from dating, especially in a setting full of adults who didn’t pay much attention to each other’s private lives. But for some reason, it felt off, almost sinful. And more than anything, what student wouldn’t love to gossip about the tough criminology professor with impossible exams dating the sweet pharmacology professor? It was prime material for gossip in the hallways.

But everything changed after the students started picking up on Tangerine’s frequent visits to your classroom to drop off food or let you know the car was unlocked in the parking lot: you were pregnant.

Pregnant.

Who would’ve thought this would happen after some months?

It wasn’t planned, but you were both adults and fully aware of the consequences of being so physically involved—with a damn creampie kink from both parts. You had stable jobs, loved each other, lived together in a cozy apartment. You just hadn’t anticipated the chuckles from students and the whispers in the hallways with wild theories that you two couldn’t help but find funny.

“I think the pharmacology professor’s been with him since high school.”

“I heard Tangerine has three kids, and they’ve been married for 17 years.”

“I heard she can’t even get pregnant, so Tangerine found a surrogate.”

The rumors became more absurd by the day, and you and Tangerine handled them with humor, laughing at the end of the day over what someone had overheard and passed on to you. You’d just smile and murmur, “These students are so creative… Wish they could be like this in class.” Tangerine, on the other hand, was more blunt, blurting out, “When I catch the mother fucker who spread that, i'll need a bloody lawyer to help me from the atrocities…” only to soften moments later—because, after all, he had you.

“Hey, love. Busy day?” Tangerine greeted you with a kiss on the cheek as he walked in, immediately shrugging off his jacket and dropping his bag onto the sofa.

“Not really… just a couple of morning classes and grading the senior exams,” you answered as you locked the door behind him and walked over for a lazy hug. “And you? You’re late.”

“Case study,” he replied, sliding his hands around your waist and carefully pulling you closer, mindful of your growing belly. “Incredible how those stupid assholes can’t interpret a simple paternity test.”

“Tan, they’re freshmen. They’re still getting the hang of it,” you teased, cupping his face with your hands and tracing his cheek with your thumbs. “But how are your other four wives doing?”

“They’re fine, along with our fifteen secret children,” he chuckled, his deep laughter filling the room before he leaned down to press a kiss against the crown of your head.

“Fifteen, huh?” You grinned, tilting your head up to meet his lips, the tickle of his mustache brushing against you.

“Fifteen. And all mine. Heard that one from the law students,” he said with a playful smirk, peppering your face with soft, lingering kisses.”think i have super sperm, apparently.”

“Oh, you do. I’m the living proof.” You flirted softly, biting your lip, standing on your tiptoes to give him a longer kiss. “think I wanna try more, babe.”

“Hey, be careful.” He whispered, shaking his head, moving his hands down your back to your hips, squeezing the soft flesh. “You know I have to hold back with you like this. Ever since I found out you were pregnant, I’ve been watching myself. You have three more months to go."

“Oh, c’mon. The baby can handle it.” You smiled, giving him another slow kiss, his lips melting on your tender mouth.

Tangerine’s hands went down to your ass cheeks, giving them a generous yet gentle squeeze, as he returned your touch. But once he felt his breathing get a little ragged, he pulled away, returning to the small peck.

“Don’t tease me.” He warned, pulling your lower lip between his teeth before sealing it. “I wanna be careful with our baby, 'kay?”

“Relax. There’s something surrounding him. He’s safe.” You comforted, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Besides… Having sex during pregnancy helps with labor, contractions with hormones and everything.”

“So it's like morphine. Liked that information…” he smiled slyly, swaying your bodies from side to side like a loving slow dance, lowering his hand to gently squeeze your breast, never intending to hurt. Gentle and soft, like your Tangerine. “You know I love helping, don’t you?”

“I love that about you so much.” you whispered, closing the space between you in another soft kiss, where your fingers drove up to unbutton his vest.

“Where did you learn about that?” he asked, taking the suit off his shoulders, followed by the open vest, his fingers working to remove the shirt underneath.

“What? Sex?” you asked, palming Tangerine’s bare chest, pulling the fabric of the shirt down his arms, brushing your finger on the muscles with him helping you along the way.

“Yeah.” He took a deep breath, remembering the softness of your touch on his warm skin. Intending to feel yours, he pulled the dress over your head.

“Internet.” You answered simply, clicking your tongue, raising your arms to iron your clothes. He raised his eyebrow. “Just kidding. I was reading some articles about pregnancy. wanted to stay informed. Prevent some things, increase others...”

“Hmmmm… and what’s the explanation for sex?” He asked, now touching your breasts covered only by the thin bra in a more comfortable model to accommodate your breasts that grew as the months passed. “Fuck, you look so hot.”

You giggled, pretending to shove him by the arm, but you just squeezed his biceps, maybe a small excuse to feel those godly muscles a little bit more. After the brief appreciation, you direct him to the messy room. Papers, pens and formal clothes around the corner. Being a professor was more complicated than you expected.

Tangerine followed you, lazily getting rid of his pants as he watched you take off your small bra and throw it somewhere in the corner of the room with the other clothes. He sat on the edge of the bed—the only thing really tidy, grinning when he saw your figure standing up, fitting between his legs to continue the explanation as his head was buried in the swell of your breasts.

“Well, not all sex during pregnancy is safe, but I’ve been researching and going to the doctor…” You began, pausing a little to take a deeper breath when he gripped your thighs, his hands going up to grab your breasts again and place a small kiss on the hardened nipple. “My case is safe. It produces oxytocin, endorphins. Also, sperm has prostaglandins that help with contractions.”

“You sound so sexy saying these things. Love how fucking smart you are.” He praises, snaking his hands up to your hips to pull you closer. “You look so fucking good like this, love. So perfect… with our child. You’re so… fuck.”

“Are you saying that to get me?” You teased, bringing your hand to his thick brown hair, your spine shivering as you felt him kiss your belly.

“A little. I love the idea of fucking the teacher, you know?” He flirted, closing his eyes to feast on your lips once more before you straightened up and continued.

“Well, our baby is safe. Wrapped in his amniotic fluid, sleeping peacefully without any worries about life and job.” You continued, biting your lip as you felt Tangerine carefully take your breast in his mouth, sucking on the small spot, the cold beating the heat of his mouth, welcomed once more by his tongue. “He’s… fine.”

“So he won’t be surprised by, i dunno—His father’s fucking cock out of nowhere?” He laughed, but the concern was noticeable amidst the sarcasm. You couldn’t help but chuckle, going down to peck his face.

“No. Just mommy here.” You muttered almost like a spell to him as he lightly chuckled, wetting his lips.

“I love you.” He said firmly, in contrast to every dirty and highly scientific tease from before. It was pure, just like Tangerine’s love and the heart that beat between you both.

“I love you too.” You replied, kissing him calmly, with his caution, as if you would break with every simple rough touch under those calluses from your beloved Tangerine.

[guiltyasdave]

come morning light

chapter 2 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2.5k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury

a/n: i'm finally finished with chapter 2, and once again nervous af about it haha. there's not terribly much happening in this one, but i promise we'll get there, it just needs the buildup :)

thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading <3

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

You don’t feel like you’ve slept at all, but after hours of tossing and turning in the darkness of your bedroom, you think it’s probably time to get up. 

You’re halfway convinced that last night’s events were a product of your imagination, that your mind has felt so lonely that it conjured up the whole scenario. But when you step out of your bedroom and find the door of your parents’ bedroom only halfway closed, the way you have never left it before saying good night to Ellie earlier, you have to come to terms with the fact that this might actually be your reality. 

Ellie seems to be sound asleep, a lump under the covers, softly breathing, but when you head to the living area and switch on one of the smaller lamps, you’re met with the piercing glare of Joel. He’s still lying on the couch, much like you left him, still pale, still dark shadows under his eyes, but he’s much more awake now, his gaze following your every move. 

“Hey,” you say softly, sinking down on the same armchair that you sat in when you watched him last night while Ellie took a shower. You suppress a shudder at the way he regards you, his eyes flicking up and down your body, taking in your size, you presume, searching for weapons. Your gun is tucked into the waistband at the back of your pants, which you’re sure he’s already aware of. You don’t like the way he makes you feel, like somehow you’re intruding on him. You should have the upper hand, this is your home and he’s injured, you helped him for crying out loud, and here you are, nervously watching his every move. You did the right thing. It’s gonna be fine. 

“Where’s Ellie?” he asks, ignoring your greeting, his voice gruff. 

“Sleeping,” you reply, nodding your head to the bedroom door. “She’s okay, I promise.” 

Some of the tension seems to release from his body and he slumps back down a little, but the distrust in his expression when he looks at you doesn’t waver. Then again, you’re probably not much different. 

“Look,” you sigh, “I’m not playing some kind of game here. You came into my house, I saw that you needed help, so I helped.” You try to infuse your voice with as much confidence as you can. “Don’t make me regret that, okay?” 

He shrugs, a noncommittal grunt the only verbal answer. It could potentially be interpreted as a thanks, you guess. In a less tense situation, you’d probably grow annoyed by now. Shrugging yourself, you get to your feet and head to the kitchen. Anything to escape the way he’s watching your every movement.

“Hey, do you want coffee?” You don’t really want to offer him any, but you’d feel weird drinking it yourself without asking. 

He pipes up at the question, head turning in your direction, his face the most open that you’ve seen it yet. “You have coffee?” 

“Yeah.” That’s why I’m fucking asking. 

“I– yes.” A breath, a second of him not meeting your eyes. “Thanks.” 

You smile, small, fleetingly, busying yourself with the ground beans and the boiling water, reveling in the smell that slowly spreads throughout the room. It reminds you of happier times, when the world was still normal. 

He has pushed himself into a sitting position, breathing heavily, when you walk over to hand him the steaming cup, still careful to keep your distance. 

After you sit back down, the both of you stay silent for a few minutes. You enjoy the bitter taste on your tongue, the way you slowly feel your energy rising. 

“Does it hurt much?” you ask eventually, gesturing towards his stomach. 

Another grunt, the hint of a head shake. 

“So it does.” He opens his mouth, the protest most likely already on his tongue, and you raise an eyebrow. “I have painkillers, are you sure that you–”

“No.” It comes fast, his voice raised, no room for arguments.

You instinctively flinch back at the unexpected louder sound, the cup shaking in your grip. You set it down on the table in front of you. Have your hands free, just in case.

There’s a hint of regret in his eyes, his free hand slightly raised, palm open. He’s trying to calm you down, you realize. 

“Okay,” you breathe, working hard to keep your voice steady, “no painkillers, got it.” 

“Sorry,” he mutters, his face half hidden, words almost lost behind the cup. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“It’s alright,” you tell him as much as yourself. 

You’ve gotten jumpy, not used to loud sounds anymore, raised voices, not used to humans in general, you suppose. You hadn’t fully realized it until now, until there’s other humans around you again.

“Thank you,” he continues unexpectedly, “not just for the coffee, but– you know.” He’s struggling, the words not coming easily, but you think that he’s being earnest. “Patching me up.”

“Of course.” You nod hastily, your heart still beating a little too fast. 

Another moment passes in silence, both of you slowly sipping the coffee. He’s looking around, taking in his surroundings, eyes lingering on the closed wooden doors and the stairs leading up. You try not to get nervous about it. It’s normal that he would want to know more about where he is, after all. 

“This is the basement, right? Is it safe?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “No way to get in from outside.” As long as you stay inside, you’re safe.

He hums, appreciatively, you think.

“How long have you been living here?” 

“Always. It’s my parents’ house. I mean–” you laugh, but it comes out hollow, “we lived upstairs, obviously. But my dad was… kinda crazy. Or– not that crazy, I guess, all things considered.” Your lips curl into a wry smile. 

Your mind flashes back to long lectures about survival techniques, learning how to shoot, your father going on and on about first aid, hunting, all the things that you couldn’t have cared less about as a teenage girl, but were ingrained in your brain nonetheless. You’re grateful, now, but it’s laced with guilt about how often you snapped at your father, how often you told him he was paranoid, seeing dangers that weren’t there, that he was wasting your time. You couldn’t have known, the rational part of you argues. But you can never take it back now, the guilt whispers. 

When you look up, Joel’s eyes are on you, eyebrows raised in question. You shake your head, trying to clear it. Stay in the present.

“Sorry, what did you–?” 

Worry is painting his expression. “Are you okay?” 

Don’t show weakness. “Yeah, of course. Just spaced out for a second.” 

You force a smile onto your face and stand up rather abruptly, gathering both cups and putting them into the sink. Joel hasn’t moved, but you feel his eyes on you as you move. 

“Do you, um, do you want to shower, maybe? Or just wash up, I don’t know, how–” You gesture towards the dried bloodstain on his flannel, forcefully keeping your tone light. “I have clean clothes, too, if you want.” 

A shiver runs through you at the thought of going through your dad’s things, of someone else wearing them. He doesn’t need them anymore. He’s not coming back. 

You know that you’ve gone silent for too long again even before you see Joel’s expression. He doesn’t ask this time, but there’s something in his eyes that you can’t place, something that almost looks like understanding. 

“Yeah, I guess cleaning up a bit would be nice. I– thank you. Again” 

His voice is gruff and he avoids your eyes. You think that he doesn’t like it, having to thank you. Owing you. 

Giving him a nod, you head to the bedroom, hoping not to disturb Ellie, but she’s awake already, her eyes glinting in the light that’s falling into the dark room from the living area. You clench your jaw, heading for one of the drawers, trying hard not to think about what you’re doing. It’s not like he ever wore this stuff, it was just sitting down here. It’s fine, you’re fine. 

“Don’t worry, it’s not about you,” Ellie says quietly from beside you, breaking through your racing thoughts. 

You turn towards her, confusion on your face. “What is?”

“Joel,” she shrugs, still keeping her voice low. “He’s like that with everyone. He’s a bit of an asshole, really.” She sounds fond, saying it, like it’s an endearing character trait. 

A surprised laugh escapes you. “I– okay, thanks, I guess.” 

She waves it away, swinging her feet out of the bed. “No, thank you for not murdering me in my sleep.” 

“Yeah, likewise.” You shake your head, still laughing to yourself. It’s so easy to like the girl, to feel like you already know her. 

You hand Joel a pile of clothes, purposefully avoiding to look at them too closely, explain where the towels are and he grumbles his approval before the bathroom door closes behind him. 

You release a breath and close your eyes for a second. You are undeniably warming up to Ellie, finding it almost impossible not to, but her companion is a different story. 

“Hey, do you drink coffee?” you ask in the direction of the bedroom. 

“Ew, no!” comes her reply as she steps out of the door, collecting the wild mess of hair on the top of her head and securing it in a ponytail.

Her offense at the mere suggestion makes you chuckle under your breath as you busy yourself with preparing breakfast in the form of porridge instead. She’s leaning against the doorframe, watching you, her eyes wide as she takes in the cupboards full of supplies. 

You’re glad that you don’t need anything from the storeroom, keeping that door in the corner firmly closed. You want to trust her, want to trust them, but a feeling of unease still lingers at the thought of letting them know just how much you have.

Instead, you voice another question, a thought that fills you with unease as well. 

“Hey,” you begin, keeping your eyes trained on the stove, “I’m sorry, but you and Joel, there– there isn’t anything weird going on, is there?” 

“Like what?” She sounds slightly defensive, but when you steal a glance at her, she’s eyeing you with curiosity. 

“I don’t know, like…” You shrug, stirring the mixture of water and oats, “you want to be here, he’s not forcing you to come with him or anything, right?” 

“No, don’t worry about that,” comes her reply, almost amused. It was a bit of a stupid question, when you think about it, considering how worried she was about him last night, how protective. 

“Okay,” you smile at her. You’re curious nonetheless, how they ended up together and where they’re headed, but it’s probably not really your place to ask. 

You divide the porridge into three bowls and hand her one, while you carry yours and one for Joel back to the living area and set them down on the wooden table. 

Ellie starts shoveling the food down immediately and you’re left wondering once more what happened to them and when they last ate something. 

“So…” Ellie begins, her mouth still half full, “you’re just down here with all this food? Because your dad stored it here, before… things went to shit?” 

You can’t blame her for her curiosity, you’re aware that you’ve probably found yourself in a better living situation than most people. Your thoughts go to the storeroom again, basically stuffed with enough supplies to last you multiple lifetimes, especially now that it’s just… No.

You hum in affirmation, not trusting your voice and you’re thankful that she’s too distracted by her breakfast to notice anything weird about your reaction. 

“So you don’t go out hunting or anything?” comes her next question. You freeze. 

You did go hunting, back when you cared about variance in the meals you prepared, about using fresh ingredients when you could. Until there was no need for that any more. 

You realize that Ellie is saying your name, not for the first time, judging from the look on her face. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, your hands tightening around the bowl. “No, I- I don’t go hunting.”

If she finds the situation weird, she shrugs it off impressively fast. 

She nods to herself, eating quietly for a minute, before she speaks up again. “So what do you… do? Down here all day?” 

“Uh…” What is it that you do all day? Time has been blurring together, days without anything happening repeating on a constant loop. You realize that you don’t remember, can’t talk of any activities that are part of your day. How long has it been like this?

You’re relieved from having to answer by Joel emerging from the bathroom, his face pale and his breaths going heavy. He has put on the sweatpants you gave him, but his torso is bare, the skin around the injury still an angry red. 

He sinks back down into the cushions with a heavy sigh and you quickly get to work, cleaning the wound once more and giving him more antibiotics before you redo the bandages and hope for the best. Your hands don’t shake as badly as they did last night. 

Ellie gets him some water and pushes his bowl of porridge into his hands, urging him to eat, before she turns to you. She’s trying to be strong, to hide her worry, but the pleading look in her eyes when she asks you if he’s gonna be okay tells a different story. 

“Of course,” you say, giving her what you hope to be a reassuring smile. 

Joel does look better after he’s eaten something, but his eyelids are drooping and after a few more minutes, his eyes close and his breath evens out. You do the dishes and check the cameras, calming down a bit more when you’re sure that everything seems to be quiet upstairs. 

When you return to the living area, Ellie is rummaging through her pack, muttering to herself, until she pulls a book out of, proudly turning the cover for you to read it. No pun intended - Volume Too.

She starts reading them to you while you settle back down with a second cup of coffee and you share her laughs, enjoying the way it makes her look lighter, allows her to be a kid who can laugh at stupid jokes. You ignore the sting it causes in your chest because you once knew someone who would have loved this book just as much as Ellie does.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!