#maybe its better you are not here with me

[doberbutts]

you don't actually get to cry "ally yourself with trans women" while actively talking over trans women whose traumatic experiences with transmisogyny are wildly ignored in favor of how hard transmisogyny is on the cis women. like why don't trans women get to say privilege plays into how much transmisogyny affects people?

do we not characterize white privilege as being what protects white americans from the systematic racism that permeates the US?

again, what is the preferred way you would have us refer to that privilege? because I am right here telling you that privilege is a part of the construct of tme/tma but you don't really care that trans women are more affected.

like it's crazy that you seem to think my problem is with the transvestigation playing out against a cis woman and not the way everyone pays attention when it happens to cis women but ignores the rampant transmisogyny when it happens to a trans woman. like you don't even pause to look at why there were no trans women at the olympics to transvestigate in the first place so they turned to the next marginalized option, intersex and women of color, when discussing how trans women deserve better.

Hi I'm the trans woman I deserve better from you specifically

To be completely honest this is looking less and less like a good faith discussion and more and more like you simply accusing me of stuff I didn't say.

You say I am actively talking over trans women. How so? How is "we need to address transmisogyny at its root if we want things to be better" ignoring the plight of trans women?

How is it that I have *repeatedly* acknowledged that there is privilege there, and yet apparently I am ignoring it?

if you want to use the race example: white privilege exists. Racism also affects white people. If white people want to stop being affected by racism (welfare regulations, the war on drugs, low income housing, social programs for community aid, to name a few) then maybe they should ally themselves with people of color because the root of what's causing issues with these things is racism. That doesn't mean white privilege doesn't exist just because a system of oppression affects everyone under said system. It doesn't even mean that the primary target has changed. It's just what makes this a system rather than an individual occurrence.

Never once have I said that cis women are more affected and, in fact, in followup posts I have stated that it *is* quite annoying that people have only been talking about this because this year's Olympics included approximately 0 out trans women. I have been saying that this was the clear end result, once they were rid of the trans women they'd go for whatever cis women they could feasibly get away with, and this time it seems they overplayed their hand.

Castor Semenya is a cis woman who only found out that she is intersex due to being transvestigated. She is, by definition, TME. Except she's not, is she, considering the same rules that apply to trans women apply to her. That's why I brought her up! And- correct me if I'm wrong- but out trans women still competed after she was forced to leave the Olympic running. That is why I'm saying that things maybe are not quite so clear cut as "have" and "have not", because I can point to an example of someone that the definition labels as "has privilege" that according to Olympic ruling bodies no longer counts as a woman either despite being afab TME cis.

If you want to continue to put words in my mouth, then we're out of things to say to each other, and it becomes clear that this was never intended to be a good faith discussion in the first place.

[pastafossa]

"Poor thing." (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic) 🔥

So as promised, I'm taking part in the October Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! For Day One I had three prompts to choose from, and I wound up going for the kink prompt of somnophilia cause, well, I'd hinted at it in TRT as being something Matt liked, but never actually sat down and wrote anything out for it. You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me, but for now, please enjoy Day One! This is not specifically written as any fem!Reader in particular, although any readers of TRT can choose to see this as TRT's reader!

As a reminder, if you'd like notifications when I post something, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

You’d had a long week. He remembered you telling him that the night before. You wouldn’t mind if he woke you up—you never did—but odds were good you needed your rest far more than you needed him dragging you up out of the haze of sleep for a sloppy, indulgent midnight fuck. But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he? 

Wordcount: 3.3k words

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: consensual somnophilia (they talked about this being fine, don't worry), oral f-receiving, grinding, PiV sex, some dirty talk. 18 and up only please!

Oh and we're black suiting this cause fuck yeah.

Your arousal hit him the second he opened the rooftop door. 

The scent of it stopped him dead in his tracks, threads of heat winding through him as he drew in a long, slow inhale, savoring it. Another inhale, and he let out a low rumble of pleasure, his mouth already watering, cock stirring. 

Well, that was one way to be welcomed home.

Not that he was complaining. His night had gone well enough—the fights visceral and satisfying, with multiple people he’d ensured would make it home safely. But your skin against his, fucking his way lazily inside you while you moaned loudly into his ear, dragging your nails down his back, would only make a good night better. However, as he eagerly stepped through the door and closed it behind him, it quickly became clear that your body’s call to him wasn’t exactly intentional. 

He directed his senses down the stairs and into the bedroom, hunting through sensory information, through the fire of the world until he found you in bed. You were laying on your side and tucked under the blankets, one of your arms thrown over his pillow to hold it up against your chest. And despite the tempting scent of you in the air, you weren’t moving. Not really, anyway. At most, every now and then your fingers would twitch or curl, your heartbeat uneven and a little restless. 

Asleep. 

You were dreaming, then.

Maybe even dreaming of him. 

He slowly dragged his tongue over his lips, considering his options.

You’d had a long week. He remembered you telling him that the night before. You wouldn’t mind if he woke you up—you never did—but odds were good you needed your rest far more than you needed him dragging you up out of the haze of sleep for a sloppy, indulgent midnight fuck.

But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he? 

Just like that, he settled on a course of action.

He crept silently down the stairs, stripping out of his gloves and black mask as he went, tossing them aside without care for where they fell. The bottom step was carefully avoided, thanks to its tendency to creak and alert you to his presence. He stopped only long enough to kneel and quietly unlace his boots, tugging them and his socks off so that he could slip barefoot into the bedroom, weaving through the shadows, navigating around any floorboards that might give him away. He did it all without a sound, his senses so focused now he could hear the faint whisper of the dust motes in the air stirred by his passage, hear the tiniest shift of your skin against the sheets as you breathed, hear the blood flowing hot beneath your skin where you’d grown flushed and aroused. 

The scent of your arousal was even stronger here in the bedroom, more than enough to thicken the heat inside him, an instinctive little purr halted in his throat before it could stir the air with sound. His body knew just as well as he did what that scent meant, what always followed, and his nostrils flared as he got closer to you, taking in how your pheromones had mixed with his in bed. It stirred some possessive, lazy satisfaction in him to take in the way you’d curled up with his pillow, chasing his scent, and you were even wearing—

Oh. 

You were wearing his shirt. 

It was like you were begging for this, for him, for what he had planned. 

He crept up onto the bed on his hands and knees, each shift of the mattress followed by a pause, a confirmation from your heartbeat and breathing that you were still asleep. He had to be careful if he didn’t want to wake you. It wasn’t that you’d be angry, of course—you’d both agreed that this sort of thing was alright, though he’d had a far easier time making use of that agreement than you had thanks to his senses. No, this was about ensuring you still had a chance to rest. 

Though, if he were honest, the challenge of this was a thrill all its own. It was a delicate balancing act to give you the sensations you needed, allow himself access to your body, all without waking you. It was as if he were hunting you, gradually gaining ground from the shadows until at last he could take hold of his prize. Fortunately, this prize was one that would leave you both satisfied. 

The moment he found himself over your hips, he shifted to catch the blankets and slowly, ever so slowly began to edge them down. 

Gentle. 

Inch by inch, he bared your body to the air. You didn’t so much as stir, well and truly asleep, and presumably still caught up in your dream. Even so, he held his breath, listening closely to the beating of your heart and your shallow breathing. But he’d been careful enough, and besides, you were used to him climbing into bed in the middle of the night, shifting the blankets around as he crawled under them to join you. 

The scent of you that rose up as the blanket slid down was so much richer now that it wasn’t stifled and trapped by thick fabric. It made him shiver, his cock already so hard he could feel a damp spot growing on the silk of his boxers. He needed more of that scent, and to taste it, too, but the angle was all wrong with you on your side. So he gently traced one fingertip up the side of your thigh, applying the barest hint of pressure. You were normally fairly responsive to him even in sleep. 

“Roll over for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning down to brush his lips, light as a feather, against your hip. “You smell so good. I need a taste.”

He wasn’t sure if it was his touch or his voice that made it past whatever dream you were lost in, but either way, some part of you heard him. You breathed out a soft sigh, twitching a little until he helped you roll slowly onto your back beneath him. You made a soft sound that might have been his name, and he couldn’t resist letting out a reassuring little croon as he pressed your slack thighs outwards, gradually parting your legs. There wasn’t so much as a hint of resistance as your legs fell open, baring the wet heat of your pussy to him. 

God, your scent. 

He quickly backed up a few inches before dropping to his hands and his knees, lowering his head just over your hips to quietly inhale the scent of your cunt. The rich, musky tang of your arousal—all pheromones and slick warmth—left him half mad, his eyes rolling back. His hips instinctively snapped forward against nothing but air, his body curving as if he were already fucking his way into you. 

It only got worse, got better when he let his head fall further, hungry for just a taste. He slipped his tongue out until he could use the tip for the barest little lick at the line of your slit where your arousal had gathered, your body twitching as he did. Even that small taste hit him like a drug, and he swallowed down a ragged moan, his chest hitching as he kept the sound from reaching the air. He’d told himself he’d just have a taste, just one, but one quickly became two became three, hungry, quickening laps at your slit until he finally whined softly in want and dropped the rest of his body down, burying his face desperately against your cunt. 

Your hips twitched, rocking against him just slightly, and you let out the softest little whimper as he grunted and slurped quietly at your slit, wetness smearing across his chin and mouth. Only once he’d thoroughly tasted what you’d made for him did he slide up to your clit, tongue extended to lap at it with little kitten licks, ones designed to encourage your body to give him more of your slick wetness, your body jerking with every pass. He tried to remind himself to be gentle, to take things soft and slow so you didn’t wake, but that was so hard when you whimpered again, whimpered as he pursed his lips to suck lightly at your clit, drawing it into his mouth to work with his tongue. Your fingers curled and released against the sheets, and you tasted so good that he found himself fucking against the mattress, humping mindlessly at the folds in the blankets like an animal.  

“M… Matt.”

His eyes fluttered lazily open, his gaze drifting up around the sensory shape of you. You were all flowing air currents and sounds and scents, twisting tongues of flame fed by the growing heat of both your bodies. Your heartbeat was still too slow to signal you’d woken up, but your breathing had picked up, your eyes fluttering more rapidly behind your eyelids. 

If you hadn’t been dreaming of him before, you were now. And if you were still dreaming, he was safe. 

He rumbled a low noise of satisfaction, using his fingers to part your folds before dipping down to your entrance. Once there, he began to lick firmly at you, pressing deeper and deeper until at last your body opened to him and he slipped inside. You let out a sleep little mewl, one of your legs shifting restlessly in your sleep, your head rolling on your pillow as he moaned quietly, curling his tongue inside you to drag against the silken heat of your clenching walls, his nose grinding gently against your clit. 

Did you know, somewhere deep down, what he was doing? That he’d spread you open like this and worked his tongue inside you? Or did all your dream self know was that you suddenly felt so, so good?

The very idea that you might not know, that you’d left yourself so vulnerable to him, had him dangerously close to coming, his motions growing just a hint more frantic. Wetness smeared across his face as he kissed sloppily at your slit, kissed at it like he might your mouth, snaking his tongue out to slide inside you with every pass of his lips. 

He listened carefully to the quickening pace of your heart, your breathing, taking in the faint sheen of sweat forming on your skin. Every time your heartrate rose too high, he’d slow just a little, or shift his mouth over to your folds or the inside of your thighs. It was there he left you a mark or two, sucking gently at thin, delicate skin. Even if he managed to do this without waking you, you’d know tomorrow what he’d done when you saw the little love bites and bruises between your thighs. The very idea made him purr warmly against you, and he quickly worked his hand down beneath himself until he could undo his pants, pushing the fabric down until he could pull his hard cock free. He took a moment to grind slowly, deliciously against the sheets, presing his mouth to the skin of your thigh to muffle his hitched moan. And that reminded him of what he’d planned on from the start, before he’d become distracted by the taste of you.

He was close, and he needed you. Fortunately, based on the way your body had begun to tighten in increasing waves, you were close, too. 

He let his head roll to the side to rest against your thigh as he panted, still grinding himself against the sheets. “Do you want my cock, sweetheart?” he whispered, his lips curling up into a delicious little smirk when your body clenched at the sound of his voice. “I think you do. Even when you’re asleep, you need me inside you, don’t you?” 

There was no verbal response, but the growing heat of your skin was enough for him. He rocked himself up as gently as he could, stopping just long enough to strip the rest of his clothes off before climbing slowly up your body. As he went, he caught the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging it up your body with him. He couldn’t take it off you—even he wouldn’t be able to mange something like that—but he had no desire to. The idea of fucking you while you were sleep, while you were wearing his shirt, was a fantasy he’d used more than once while taking himself in hand. He did, however, tug your shirt up just enough to bare your breasts to him. 

Obscene, something inside him whispered in delight, a wave of throbbing heat flooding through him. Here you were asleep, shirt pushed up over your breasts, your naked cunt practically dripping onto the sheets. He balanced his weight on one arm as he hovered over you, indulging himself as he palmed gently at one of your breasts, dragging his thumb slowly against your nipple. That won him another soft moan in your sleep, your cunt clenching, body tightening around nothing. Your next moan was even louder when he dropped his head to drag his tongue hotly against your other nipple, drawing it into his mouth to catch it gently between his teeth, sucking lazily until you let out an even louder moan, one of your hands curling as if to claw at the sheets before relaxing. “Poor thing,” he crooned quietly, reluctantly leaving your breasts to climb the rest of the way up your body. “Listen to you, so needy.”

And it would only be right to help with that, wouldn’t it? 

Once his hips were level with yours, he settled in, rocking and grinding his cock gently against your slit, slicking himself up with your warmth and the saliva he’d left behind. The sudden sensation of your burning heat against the underside of his cock made his mouth fall slack, and he started to pant at the little shocks of pleasure that washed over him every time he caught the head of his cock against your clit. You weren’t much better even asleep, whining as your hips jerked, eyes rolling frantically beneath your lids. It took everything in him to keep his motions gentle and slow, no matter how much his body demanded he grind and rut, fuck his way desperately inside you even if it woke you. No. No, not when he was so close, his cock now slick and ready for you. He let out a shaky breath, burying his face against your warm throat, huffing in the scent of you as he shifted the angle and began to slide inside you, centimeter by warm, delicious centimeter. 

“Fuck,” he whispered shakily, one of his hands fisting desperately in the sheets beside your head. “Fuck, sweetheart. You feel so good.”  

God, you were tight, so close to coming that you were already clenching tight around him. That tightness forced him to move gradually, his progress slowed to a sinfully dangerous crawl, one that allowed him to feel every last twitch and shift of your body around his cock. It seemed designed to make him lose his mind when he was already this worked up. In a blink, he’d caught the fabric of your shirt in his teeth, stifling his hoarse, shaky moan, your shallow, hitched breathing a tantalizing whisper of sensation in his ear. It felt like it took hours,  ages before he’d finally hilted himself inside you, buried in your slick heat. 

He forced himself to still there for a long moment, his chest heaving as he scanned over you with his senses again. 

Stuttered breathing, each breath hiding a faint moan. 

The fluttering clip of your heart, just slow enough to indicate you hadn’t woken. 

Your fingers clenching and releasing, spread thighs shifting in minute, restless movements against the sheets. 

It wouldn’t take much more for him to come, he knew that much—the taste of you still lingered on his tongue, filled his nose, and the drag of your skin against his with every breath only left him burning. But he wasn’t a selfish lover, even when you weren’t awake to beg and plead with him for release. No, he’d make sure you got what you needed, too: his sweetheart, so tender and soft and welcoming to the Devil even in sleep. 

He slowly, gradually settled his weight onto one arm, sliding his free hand down between your bodies. Even that much shifting around had him swallowing down a groan, and he couldn’t resist grinding just a little inside you. It made you twitch and whimper, hushed and breathless in his ear as he pressed his cock against that spot inside you. Once he was sure that hadn’t been enough to wake you, he quickly dragged two fingers through your folds, raking gently to gather up your wetness before he brought them back up to your clit. The rhythm he started was slow and easy, a gentle grind and loop over your clit that matched the rolling waves of his hips as he began to gently fuck you, barely retreating at all before sliding smoothly back to fill you once more. 

It took him no time at all to work your body up that final hill, your breathing growing shorter, your heart rate climbing as you began to tighten around him. It helped that he knew what you needed—each retreat was slow and gentle, and he never left you more than halfway before rolling lazily back forward, ensuring your warm cunt stayed achingly full as he brought you just up to the edge. This time it was your mouth that moved, not a word but a soft whisper of skin as you parted your lips, your head tipping back. And he knew that motion, even as slack and lazy as it was in your sleep. 

He purred quietly at the unconscious request that he fill you there, too, lifting his head to seek out your mouth. One soft lick against your lips and you parted them for him on pure instinct, allowing him to slide his tongue filthily into your slack mouth, dragging his tongue against yours, granting you what you’d asked for. You let out a soft sigh, your throat working beneath him as you sucked at the taste of him, of yourself, of you both. 

All it took from there was one more finger grinding against your clit, a gentle buck of his hips as he moaned into your mouth, and you crested, your body tightening and releasing around him in rippling waves. Your head rolled back in your sleep, a soft gasp shuddering up your throat as you twitched and shook, eyes rolling back beneath your lids. You let out what might have been a moan of his name, hot and sweet, a sound that seared its way across his mind like a brand. That was more than enough for him, and he let himself go. He groaned softly against your lips, snapping his hips gently against you as he spilled himself near-silently inside you, filling your cunt with a spreading heat that you wouldn’t notice until morning. He kissed you through it as gently as he could, rubbing lightly, quickly at your clit to drag your orgasm out along with his, pleasure rolling through him in gentle waves. Even once you both began to come down, he wasn’t quite done, rumbling a low, possessive growl as he ground himself inside you further, ensuring he’d coated every last inch of your warm cunt, his, you were his, even in sleep. He toyed with that overstimulation just long enough for his toes to curl, for his spent, softening cock to twitch inside you, spilling a few more drops, giving you everything he had as you drifted back down into a deep sleep. 

Satisfied with what he’d given you. 

He got one arm down and around your hip, gently, carefully rolling the both of you until you were both on your sides, his cock still buried deep inside you. He rumbled a low noise to reassure your sleeping mind, burying his nose in your hair as you sleepily curled into him, one arm draping itself over his waist. 

“Love you,” he murmured. “My good girl.” “Mm.”

[boneblushed]

And, boy, you got her

synopsis Rafe’s in charge of the pledges during Rush Week. Hazing isn’t a thing. Making you feel so high school is.

wc 3.6K

a/n omgggg Euro Trip Rafe <3333 I was living on pledgetok last week and just couldn’t not write something about it

“Holy shit,” Noah mutters, surveying the crowd over his red cup, “I swear they get scrawnier every single year.”

Rafe nods gravely, taking a pull of his beer. “It’s fucking grim.”

“Like — fuck, look at those two.” Noah gestures toward the shaded veranda, a fresh coat of gloss making its balustrades shine. Huddled in one corner, attempting to take up as little space as possible, two boys donning UNC merch survey the crowd in tandem. “We weren’t that fucking scraggy as freshman, were we?”

“You two weren’t,” Kelce snorts, coming up behind them. Topper brings up his rear, mid-bite of his loaded hotdog. “Thornton definitely was though.”

“Oi!” Topper protests, his words garbled by half chewed sausage. “S’wasn’t that bad. C’mon.” He turns to Rafe then, swallowing his mouthful. “But seriously, you locked in any potentials?”

Rafe furrows his brow thoughtfully, looking back over Delta Chi’s yard. Unsurprisingly, it’s far too early to say. Though the barbecue that they’re hosting is a good way for pledges to mingle, it isn’t exactly hazing material; they’re going to have to get creative.

“Maybe,” he replies finally, shrugging. “We’ll just have to see I guess.”

He tips back his red cup again, swallowing the last dregs of beer before acquiescing. As he’s about to announce his need for a refill, a few pledges sidle up to their group, looking hopeful.

Not overtly, of course. Painstakingly hiding their eagerness behind an armour of insouciance.

“Rafe,” the tallest of the three greets, handing him another red cup. The golden liquid inside it brims to the surface, its white foam dissolving in mocking. “Hey, bro. You need another?”

Rafe raises his eyebrows, hiding a grin. “Shit. Table service already?”

The boy grins in tandem, looking a little sheepish. “Big fan, man. I’m Dylan.” He motions at the two guys on either side of him, wearing matching squints and backwards caps. “This is Rahul and Xav, we’re all here from Trinity.”

“Durham and Chapel Hill?” Noah enquires, whistling approvingly when they nod. “Fuck, we used to love having away games there. Those Trin cheerleaders…”

“Haha, shit, what was that chic’s name again?” Rafe asks then, a pull of mirth as he turns to Noah. “The one you messed around with in junior year?”

“Blake,” Noah answers, groaning in a mock-wistful sort of way. “They didn’t make ‘em like her at the Academy.”

Rafe snorts, sending the pledges a sage glance. “Nah. They made ‘em better.”

Noah raises his eyebrows, his brown eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, so we are allowed to objectify your girl then, Cameron?”

“Damn, so you’re tied down?” Xavier pipes up, his voice gravelly and low on purpose. Overtly masculine, like he’s trying hard to be red-blooded. “Your girl doesn’t mind you partying?”

Rafe frowns. “Why would she mind?”

“Uh,” Xavier balks, pulling at the bill of his backwards cap, “shit. I don’t know… like, doesn’t she get pissed that you’re constantly around sorority girls?”

“HA —” Topper laughs, and then he falters, thwarted by Rafe’s warning glower. “Uh.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Let’s just say Cameron doesn’t give her any reasons to be suspicious.”

“Because he’s obsessed with her,” Noah adds, unperturbed by Rafe’s expression. He pauses then, an amusing idea popping into his head. “Which means…” he continues, returning Rafe’s glare with a trust me one of his own, “you guys should be too.”

Rafe doesn’t trust him. Like, at all. He sends him a bewildered look, unsure where he’s going with this. “White — what?”

Noah ignores him. He downs his beer and crushes the red cup in his hand, deftly aiming it at the nearest bag of trash. “So,” he says, eyeing the three pledges with interest. “How serious are you guys about rushing Delt?”

“Pretty serious, bro,” Rahul answers, looking to his friends for support. “Think we got a shot?”

Noah throws his arm around Rafe’s neck, his strong bicep taut as he shoots them a grin. “Depends, man, I might know how we could figure that out though.” He begins to steer Rafe away from them, sending one last, faux-somber look over his shoulder. “Be right back, yeah?”

Rafe, whose bewilderment is quickly giving way curiosity, allows himself to be marshalled out of earshot without complaints.

He shrugs Noah off of him once they’re on the verandah, his features ever-bemused as he turns toward him. “The fuck was that about?”

“Bro, I know exactly how we’re going to haze these motherfuckers,” Noah replies, his voice lilted with mirth. “You know… without breaking any rules.”

The bewildered expression on Rafe’s face doesn’t acquiesce. “Okay… how?”

“Instead of getting them to be our bitches,” he answers, a mischievous grin making home on his features. “We’re going to get them to be our girlfriends’ bitches.”

Rafe frowns. “Bro. What?”

“Cameron, it’s perfect.” He swipes Rafe’s beer from his hand and takes a generous pull. “What do frat guys hate more than being called scrawny as fuck?”

“Uh. Doing assignments?” Rafe answers blankly, still frowning. He doesn’t have it in him to think too hard about Noah’s profferance. He’s on hour two of manning this boring event, hour four since he bid you farewell, and all Rafe can bear to think about right now is the imminent taste of your peach-scented lips.

Noah shakes his head. “No, dumbass. Being called a simp.”

“Wrong,” Rafe answers, “I don’t mind that shit at all.”

“You’re the exception,” Noah replies matter-of-factly. “You and Y/N have always been the exception. C’mon, I’m talking about us,” he places his palm over his breastbone solemnly, “mere mortals.”

Rafe narrows his eyes. “Fuck off. How would that even work?”

“We…” Noah pauses to think, a slightly furrow to his brow, “alright, I got it. We assign the pledges to our girlfriends, one by one. Give them a week to make a good impression — you know, carry their bags, buy them flowers, all that sentimental crap you love.”

“You really think the guys’ll agree to this?” Rafe asks, sounding reluctant. “I mean… I don’t know if I’m alright with a bunch of idiots holding doors for my girl.”

“But you’re an idiot that holds a door for your girl,” Noah answers, not missing a beat.

“Fuck off, White.”

“I’m serious. It’ll be funny. And look… if you’re worried about Y/N, I know she’ll find it adorable as fuck.”

Rafe shakes his head. “No way. She didn’t find high-school me adorable.”

Noah raises his eyebrows skeptically. “You’d be surprised, man. Besides, these guys aren’t going to be like high-school you. High-school you was a douchebag.”

“A douchebag who got the girl.”

“A douchebag who got the girl after he stopped acting like a douchebag.” Noah smirks then. “A douchebag who’d give all these fuckers a run for their money if he was pledging Delt this year.”

Rafe grins in tandem, stealing his beer back to take a big swig. “Alright, shit, alright. Harmless shit though, right? Chivalry and all that?”

“Harmless as hell,” Noah agrees. “C’mon. You really think any of these guys has the balls to make a pass at one of our girls?”

“Easy for you to say, White. You don’t fucking have a girl.”

Noah frowns. “What d’you mean? Aren’t we going halves on Y/N?”

“Holy fuck, Noah,” Rafe groans, almost spitting out his mouthful of beer. “If Y/N heard the shit you said when she wasn’t around, she’d probably kill you.”

“Nah,” Noah replies, seemingly unperturbed. “She loves me.”

“Well,” Rafe says grimly, crushing his own empty cup in his head. “She might do now, but she sure as hell won’t by the end of this week.”

—

The first time it happens, you’re understandably perplexed.

You’re en-route to your 9AM, bag strap denting your left shoulder, when a stranger falls into your step and swipes it from your figure. It’s a motion so quick and deft you initially think you’re getting mugged.

As you double back in bewilderment, he proffers, “you alright with this?”

“Uh.” You balk. “What?”

“Your bag,” he answers, readjusting it on his own shoulder. He seems earnest. Nervous, even. “It looked heavy. I can carry it to class for you, if you want?”

You allow a pause to take him in.

“No, I’m…” another pause, more of his demeanour on display. Backwards cap, crisp white polo shirt, smile lines exposing the ghost of a grin on his face. A familiar grin, the kind that pulls a soft, maudlin feeling from your ribcage. “Look, if you’re trying to hit on me —”

“No, no,” he interrupts quickly, his eyes widening in a panic. “Shit — no, don’t tell Cameron I’m hitting on you. I’m just…”

“Wait a minute,” your eyes narrow accusatorially, because of course he’s behind this chivalrous display, “you know my boyfriend?”

The stranger grimaces sheepishly. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Explain.”

“It’s… uh… well — basically, I’m pledging Delt,” he answers haltingly, self effacement juxtaposing his frat boy exterior. “Rafe’s asked us to be all gentlemanly and shit for pledge week, I don’t know. To you guys, I mean. Like… the current frat member’s girls?”

“Oh my god,” you groan. “No he hasn’t.”

“Shit.” He looks far more nervous now that he did five minutes ago. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No,” you grumble, pulling your phone out of your pocket. “No he did not.”

Rafe’s on speed dial. He picks up on the first ring, the way he always does for you.

“Hey baby,” his gravelly timbre crackles through the phone, the low hum of frat house chatter audible in the background. “What’s up?”

“Don’t even. You know what’s up Rafael.”

A pause. When Rafe speaks again, his voice is quick and placating. “It was Noah’s idea.”

“Of course it was.”

“Dylan’s not playing up, is he?”

You raise your eyebrows at the stranger then, assessing him faux-suspiciously. “No way. He’s doing a better job than you ever did in high school.”

“Woah woah woah,” Rafe replies, a playful lilt to his tone. “That fucker’s not calling you dream girl or something, is he?”

“Worse. He’s being respectful of my boundaries.”

“Oh shit. I fucking knew this was a bad idea.”

You shake your head in exasperation, trying not to laugh. The poor stranger’s still standing there at attention, your leather bag looking ridiculous on his arm. “Rafe. Tell me he’s the only one.”

“He’s one…” Rafe starts slowly, sounding sheepish, “of three. Four, counting me.” In the background, you hear Noah pipe up and add, “five, Cameron. How could you forget me?”

“You’re un-fucking-believable, Noah White,” you shout through the phone.

“I love you too, Y/N,” Noah sings, and then he groans, no doubt shoved to the side by his indignant best friend. It’s Rafe on the phone again, voice sweet and thick as molasses as he says, “they’ll behave, baby, and make your life easier in the process. I promise.”

“What?” You accuse, fighting back a smile. “Like you did in high school?”

“Fuck no,” he replies, the grin on his face audible. “They’ll be nothing like I was, sweetheart.”

“What?” You tease. “Absolutely insufferable?”

“And absolutely in love with you.”

You raise your eyebrows. “How can you be so sure?”

“They’re under strict instruction. Have a shiner waiting for them if they pull something funny.”

Another exasperated laugh bubbles out of you, and you begin walking forward again, motioning at the boy named Dylan to follow in your step. “Right. So the boundaries are on purpose, are they?”

“The respect, too. No being inappropriate and charming at the same time.”

“And why not?” You ask faux-indignantly. “What if I like being objectified?”

“Can’t have you falling in love with them, can I?”

“Hey,” you argue, frowning stubbornly. “That is not what made me fall in love with you.”

“It isn’t?”

“Well,” you balk, “not solely that.”

“You’re fucking sexy,” he recites devotedly, almost yells, and you can hear the collective groan of his frat brothers in the background. “Are you wearing those Lululemon pants right now? Point is, I’m thinking about your ass in those Lululemon pants right now.”

“Rafe, I was fucking kidding. Stop.”

“No you weren’t.” You know he’s right; you can picture that stupid smirk on his face. It makes your cheeks warm. Asshole. “You’re blushing now, aren’t you?”

“Anyway.”

“Anyway,” Rafe agrees. “No funny business, alright? Just lots of good deeds.”

Good deeds. You suppose you could get used to good deeds, the embarrassment of attention notwithstanding.

You let out a defeated sigh, halting in front of your 9AM class. “You so, so owe me.”

“I so, so love you,” Rafe replies, and it makes your pulse leap; you’ll never get used to this feeling. “See you later, yeah?”

“Uh huh. Love you.”

Dylan waits until you’ve ended the call before saying farewell, dutifully handing your leather bag back to you and giving you a mock salute. The way he does it, all sheepish and genuine with a charming smile on his face, makes your heart twinge in a junior year of high-school sort of way. You’re feeling sentimental. It’s sweet.

You’re reminded of Rafe before he was yours, stumbling over himself to win your favour. Confusing chivalry with courting, objectifying you in the name of flirting.

Insufferable, but sweet nonetheless. You digress.

—

The next time it happens, you’re ambushed at your favourite cafe.

A dutiful Delta Phi pledge has already queued up and purchased you coffee, handing it over to you with a blushing bouquet of tulips.

You raise your eyebrows at him questioningly. “Is that…?”

“Uh, an oat iced coffee with vanilla?” He asks, sounding nervous. “I asked Cameron for your order.”

“Didn’t ask me about pastries, though,” a voice behind you adds, rough and familiar with a sweetness around the edges. Rafe circles your waist with ease and pulls you into his chest, sponging a soft kiss to your temple before handing you a brown bag.

A glossy, Daily Bread sticker shines on its exterior proudly.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you look up at him expectantly. “Tell me you didn’t drive back home for a single croissant.”

“I didn’t drive back home for a single croissant,” Rafe replies. He grins then, looking that same, sheepish genuine that pulls a maudlin feeling. “I drove back home for twenty.”

“Rafe. Why?”

“Because you like Daily Bread,” he replies matter-of-factly, like it’s obvious.

You shake your head in exasperation, tip-toeing up to press a quick kiss to his lips. It becomes less quick against better judgement. He tastes like spearmint gum and cold brew, the hand he has held to your waist tightening ever so slightly. Slipping under your shirt, massaging the soft skin he finds there expertly, discreetly. Too much for 8am on a Wednesday morning, sans coffee. Your face feels on fire. You pull away in a hurry.

Meanwhile, the freshman pledge balks at the exchange, looking out of place.

Rafe frowns bemusedly at your diffidence, only clocking the reason when you nod over at him.

“I’ll walk her over Ben,” he says, dismissing him. “You’re off the hook, bro.”

“Shit.” The boy named Ben grimaces; he needs to get his hours in, and doesn’t deem this a fair ambush. He scrambles for an excuse. “Right. Can I still give her the flowers?”

“Of course you can,” you beam, accepting them gratefully. You look up at Rafe then, asking, “And if I want to walk with Benjamin?”

Rafe grins down at you, disbelieving. “Do you, baby?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” you say, wriggling out of his grasp. “He got me flowers.”

Rafe falters, his eyes widening in surprise. “Sweetheart, I got you a croissant.”

“Ben got me a coffee,” you hedge. “And flowers.”

“Y/N,” he placates.

“Rafael,” you echo, unperturbed by his exasperation. You take a sip your coffee. “I’ll see you later, okay? Ben’s ticking off a good deed this morning.”

Poor Ben looks helpless, taking the brunt of Rafe’s glare as you motion for him to hold the door for you.

“C’mon Ben, we’re going to be late.”

“But…” Ben pauses, his eyes flitting to Rafe nervously. “This is fine, right?”

Rafe sighs, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth in defeat. “Yeah, bro. You’re good.” He looks to you, then. “You’re unbelievable.”

You smile sweetly. “I’m wearing the Lulu leggings.”

“Oh I noticed,” Rafe replies, his blue eyes falling down your figure in slow, reverent paces. “It’s why I want to be the one holding the door for you.”

You roll your eyes. “Men only want one thing.”

Rafe grins. “Yeah. You.”

—

By the end of the week, you’re more used to the chivalry than you’re willing to admit.

You’ve enjoyed free iced lattes and filled your dorm with gorgeous bouquets, no door left unopened and no walk to class left unescorted. And really, every pledge you’ve come across has been pleasant and unassuming, albeit absolutely terrified of Rafe and therefore extra obliging on instinct.

They’ve even offered to do favours for you, got you into sought after Pilates classes and done last minute grocery runs on your behalf. It’s put you in this constant state of mild exasperation, like you can’t believe you’re worthy of this much love and chivalry.

It’s exactly the way you felt back in high-school with Rafe, and this revelation pulls lots of funny feelings from your stomach, from your chest. Feelings you’ve forgotten that are all yours and all his. Because it’s strange, having someone other than Rafe taking care of you. (Or Noah.) It’s strange because it makes you realise just how much he adored you back in the day.

These emotions come to a head at the pledge week closing bash, Delta Phi lit up with fluorescent lights in technicolour. Inebriation ensues, beer pong follows, and an impromptu DJ deck plays endless songs with heavy bass.

Rafe Cameron has you pulled close, as always, the taut muscle of his forearm pressing heat to your exposed waist. You’re a few drinks down and hyperaware of his proximity, ankles touching, thighs too, torsos close with your head resting on his shoulder.

“I think I like Dylan the best,” you announce suddenly.

“Yeah?” Rafe asks, kneading your skin absentmindedly.

You nod. “He’s sweet. Told me all about his girl back home.”

Rafe grins then, shaking his head bemusedly. “You’re such a sucker for love, sweetheart.”

“Hey!” You glare up at him faux-incensed, looking accusatory. “So are you!”

“Shhhh,” Rafe murmurs playfully. “Not so loud, you’ll fuck up my street cred.”

You scoff. “Since when do you care about street cred?”

“Shit, you’re right,” Rafe agrees easily, leaning down to draw your lips in for a kiss. He’s all patchouli and musk, beer on his tongue and unchaste intentions in his touch. When he pulls away, his lips are still an inch from yours, his voice rougher than it was a second ago, “I don’t care. Like, at fucking all.”

“Good,” Noah snorts from behind him. “‘Cause you never had any to begin with, bro.”

“There you are,” you say then, eyeing Noah over Rafe’s shoulder. There’s a mock accusatory expression on your face, softened by mirth and the alcohol on your lips. “Have you been hiding from me, White?”

Noah grins sheepishly, taking a pull of his beer. “Maybe.”

You narrow your eyes. “Tell me. When did you become worse than Rafael?”

“I didn’t become worse!” Noah insists. “He just became better. You know, after he got the girl.”

You make a face. “Smooth.”

“Hey,” Noah raises his arms in surrender, looking faux-somber, “someone’s gotta teach the next generation, don’t they? I’m committed to their education.” He raises his eyebrows then, a mischievous glint in his eye. “C’mon, don’t act like you didn’t love it.”

Rafe grins. “She totally fucking loved it.”

You aim a glare at the pair of them, failing miserably at hiding your amusement. “So maybe I didn’t mind it. Sue me.”

“Of course you loved it,” Noah says, throwing his arm around you and pulling you into his side. “You love Cameron, don’t you?”

You narrow your eyes. “Opinions vary.”

“You love me?” Noah tries.

“You fucking wish.”

“Everyone fucking wishes,” Rafe says then, throwing his arm around you too, your figure wedged between the pair of them. Frat boy sandwich, you think tiredly. If high-school you could see you now, you’re pretty sure she’d have an aneurysm. “Especially when you’re in Lululemon.”

“Rafe.”

“I’m kidding. Not really. They all love you, you know that, yeah?”

You look up at him questioningly. “The pledges?”

“Uh huh,” Rafe replies, raising his eyebrows at you. “This is what I was afraid of, you know.”

“What?” You ask, lifting yours in tandem.

“Everyone falling in love with you, like I did in high school.”

You scrunch up your nose at him, your cheeks warming in diffidence. “No one’s fallen in love with me, don’t be silly.”

“I have,” Noah pipes up unhelpfully.

“Shut up, Noah. I saw you talking to Georgia just before.”

Noah grins, pulling away and offering you a mock salute. “Guilty as charged.” He turns to survey the crowd, spotting her figure on the fairy-light lit porch. “Speaking of…”

And he’s gone before you’re able to tease him any further, leaving Rafe to guide you out of his side and into his chest. You wrap your arms around his neck, his hands exerting a warm, steady pressure into the curve of your waist.

“As I was saying,” you continue, frowning up at him playfully. “No one’s fallen in love with me.”

Rafe’s unconvinced. His gaze skates down your figure again, a tortured groan falling from his throat. “Have you seen you, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes, face hot and self conscious. “And even if they have,” you add, “it doesn’t matter.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows. “It doesn’t?”

“No way. Because I’m in love with you, not any of them.”

Rafe grins then, a devastatingly handsome look on his face. “I’ll never get used to hearing that.”

“I’ll never get used to saying it.”

[hoshifighting]

Okay, bear with me cause this might be a strange one, but, how do you think seventeen would react if their s/o wanted to like ‘play’ with their dick.. but like not in the way of ‘here’s a handjob’ but sorta ‘so what happens if I rub your balls like this ?’ Like they just want to poke and prod and maybe lick it

More from like a ‘I don’t have a dick and I wanna know what happens’ kind of perspective. I guess? Sexual scientist s/o vs seventeen lol

sexual scientist s/o x seventeen

warnings: smut, cock/balls play(?)

seungcheol’d try to act all strong and everything, like it’s no big deal, but the second your fingers graze his balls? yeah, he’s groaning like a whoooore. “b-baby, what are you doing?” he’d ask, voice shaking, but honestly, he’s not telling you to stop—he’s curious to see what you’ll do next.

jeonghan smug idiot omg hes a menace stoooooop. he’s laughing at first, all “you really wanna know what happens?” then you start rubbing, and his eyes go wide, mouth falling open as his cock twitches. “oh fuck, okay, maybe— maybe you’re—oh!”

joshua would be a blushing mess. he’s trying to act polite about it, like, “uh, baby, what are you—ohh…,” but the second your hand gets anywhere near his tip (or perineum cof cof), he’s gasping, hips jerking up into your touch. “oh, wow, okay, that feels… good? actually, too good, if you keep going—” he’d definitely let you experiment more, though, no questions asked.

junhui’s all for it. he’s watching you, a little too excited. when you start touching him, he’s moaning loud, throwing his head back. “fuck, you really don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

hoshi would be confused but... why not? “uh, is this like… a game or something?” he’d ask, until you start rubbing, and then he’s losing it. his breath hitches, and he’s trying not to make a sound, but it’s not working. “holy shit—okay, NO DONT SQUEEZE IT.”

wonwoo’d be a little shy about it at first, wondering what you’re up to, but he’s not stopping you. “what are you trying to figure out?” he’d ask, half-laughing, until you hit the right spot, and then he’s gasping, eyes fluttering shut. “shit… yeah, keep doing that.”

woozi’d act like he’s too cool for it, smirking down at you, saying something like, “you’ trying to conduct an experiment? there's nothing special about it” but the second your fingers slide down, his breath catches, and he’s shifting his hips, trying to play it cool. “ah, ah, fuck, okay, yeah, I get it now.”

minghao’s laughing softly at first, kinda enjoying watching you be all curious about his body or male body. “you wanna know what happens if you touch there?” he’d tease, but then you do it, and he’s biting his lip, trying so hard not to moan. “oh… okay, okay is enough.”

mingyu, poor baby would be so confused at first, blinking down at you like, “baby, is not even a pretty thing like, balls? really?.” the second you touch him, his body reacts on instinct, hips bucking up into your hand, and he’s gasping, eyes wide. “oh my god, you better be quick…”

seokmin would be giggling at first, thinking you’re messing with him. “are you serious right now?” he’d ask, when you start rubbing, his laugh dies, and he’s groaning, voice all shaky. “babe… do that again.”

seungkwan’s so embarrassed, blushing bright red, trying to make a joke out of it. “oh, you’re really gonna…?” and when u touch him, he fucking whimpers eyes fluttering shut as he grabs at the sheets. “yeah yeah, you can do it again…”

vernon = blank stare. he’s so confused at first, like, “why would do something like that? oh, a research?” but once your hand moves lower, he’s gone. his voice catches in his throat, and he’s gripping your wrist. “wait—what the fuck, that feels… so good.”

chan “you’re really gonna try that?” he’s all talk until you actually do it, and then his mouth falls open, a shaky moan slipping out. “oh shit, that’s—its sensitive! what the fuck did you do? b-but don't stop…” he’s 100% into letting you experiment all you want.

[gladiatorcunt]

father charlie asking you to call him father during sex is making me tweak

cw: 18+ mdni, fem reader, pussy EATING, let him be a little more openly crazy in this one, trope typical dub con and corruption kink but you're just as crazy so you think that you're doing the same thing to him, bible verses as dirty talk, inaccurate religious practices, religious slut shaming/degradation (?)

Your thighs are already shaking and he’s only kissing up your inner thighs, so cute, so sweet. “That’s it, little lamb, lie back for me.”

Your skirt is pushed up to pool around your hips, the wood of the pew you’re sitting on leaving an already uncomfortable ache in your hips.

Father Charlie kneels in front of you, right out in the middle of the open. Sure, it’s after hours and no one is on the premises but the two of you, but God is still here. Isn’t he? Watching in judgment as the man meant to be your spiritual leader sups at the fountain of your cunt.

He smiles when you start squirming and immediately slaps the inside of your thigh, harsh but genuine in its tough love, “Ah ah ah. I thought I told you to lie back and take your Father’s tongue in your pussy like a good girl.”

The candle’s flames flicker as you pant and stare down at him, he looks so handsome in the soft orange glow, like an angel. But isn’t it the demons who sneak down to earth and seduce unsuspecting whorish women into damnation? Father Charlie could never be a demon in your eyes though, and he knows this more than he knows every verse of the good word by heart.

He could desecrate you with a nail gun and you’d bend over and spread your legs, bleeding out on the beige carpet. But you’re his special girl, his darling wife to be and you know better than to do anything that would force his heavy hand.

“I-I’m so sorry, I won’t do it again.” You plead, the thought of losing his favor for even a second causes you genuine distress, "Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls, as those who will have to give an account.”

“I-i’m so sorry, who?” He mocks, pitching his voice higher and spitting on your clit. “I won’t do it again, who?”

“F-father. I’m so sorry, Father. I’ll be listen you, I swear.”

“You’re going to be a good girl for me anyway, like a real child of God should.”

Your soft sighs turn into even softer moans when he redoubles his efforts and leans forward to kiss your throbbing clit. A crucifix that tastes as electrifying as a star, he moans as your natural musk invades his senses. He’s so happy you’re on an off shaving day too, there’s just enough hair peeking through for some to come off on his tongue with every swipe.

Father Charlie moans into your puffy pussy, speaking in tongues into your folds and sliding his tongue in your sopping hole. He smacks his lips together when he pulls back to breathe, smiling up at you and licking away the sticky string of you that clings to his mouth.

“Maybe I should have this cunt for communion, draft my sermons laying in between your thighs. You should’ve never taken this job, little lamb. Now even God himself couldn’t keep us apart.”

A flash of light, and his nose bleeds onto your pubes. Then the vision’s gone, and Father Charlie’s burying himself back into the heaven that is your sloppy pussy.

You run your fingers through his hair in a frenzy, but you obediently sink into the shooting pain in your pelvis as you slump into the pew.

Father Charlie’s eyes glint like rubies as he eats you like a starving man, your water turning into wine as you flood his taste buds with your juices. His knees strain in the confines of his dark slacks, digging into the church floor, but his precious lamb is worth every twinge of pain. They’d be added bonuses, anyway. He hums a few lines of a hymn, the melodic vibrations give you tingles.

You squirt minutes later when you lock eyes and he nips at your clit, fantasizing about chewing it into a heart. He chastely pecks the bud through your orgasm and into overstimulation, which is always his goal. Father Charlie’s favorite game is to make you come for every sin you confess to in your last confessional.

“You’ve been eating what I’ve recommended, good, you’re fattening up really nicely, dear.” He comments with a quick squeeze to your mound, laughing at your exhaustion.

One down, six to go. You’re blessed with a guilty conscience.

“Go in peace.”

[4pfsukuna]

Can you write a Terry one shot in which him and reader have a pregnancy scare? Like at one point the condom broke but they were both too into it to realize or stop. They're fwb and after it's revealed she isn't pregnant, they admit they have romantic feelings and maybe eventually having a family together wouldn't be a bad idea. Then jokingly Terry says let's go back to practicing lmao. I guess it's smut then angst and ends with fluff (or more smut if you like lmao)

ooh sistah you ate with this request, ngl i finished it 2 days ago but couldnt find your anon ask but here we go:

Debrief: Terry shows you hes a man in every sense of the word, from how he fucks to how he cares about you.

Hennessy was probably thee worst alcohol you could drink with terry. Now he was a military man and they can drink anybody under the table time and time again but something about the dark cognac turned him into an absolute monster that man wanted nothing more than to claim you on every surface from his apartment to yours across the hall. Your body was marked from neck to ankle in bites and hickeys Terry claiming that you were all his and making sure anybody that saw you knew.

“Show me its your baby” he moans with a fucked out expression as you ride his dick feeling full to the brim. His green eyes dark with lust as he watches you never dropping eye contact obsessed with the glossed over look in your eyes. 

“Come on baby girl you can do better than— fuck” he moans when you get up on your tip toes and tighten a hand around his throat yeah yall were both gone off the henny. The squelching sound getting louder as his thumb comes down to rub your clit and you swear you see his pupils turn into hearts at the sound.

“Tell me its mine and stop fucking playing with me” you snap riding faster as your own hand comes down to play with his balls that were already drenched in your juices and he smirks leaning forward so his forehead is against yours.

“Oooh feeling bold huh? You know better than talking to me like that” he threatens spanking your clit but it does that opposite and instead turns you up making you ride harder and faster pulling matching groans from the both of you. 

“This shit is mine” you moan out and it was suppose to be a statement but the way his tip was kissing your cervix you knew it was a loosing battle but he loved watching you fight back that turned him on more than anything.

“Earth to you bitch, clock back in and tell me what bathing suit you think i should wear” your bestfriend huffs snapping her fingers in your face and you playfully push her hand away before looking at the outfit options she had laid out on your bed. The same one that he had you laid out on. You couldnt even help the sex flashbacks it was just something about fucking that man that had your brain turn to mush even days later.

“Girl this shit is floss, if you dont pick out something in your actual size” you laugh holding up one of the thongs helping her get ready for her pool party that absolutely nobody was going to be swimming at. She shoots you a playful look as she snatches the bright pink bottoms from your hand.

“Let me just try it on and show you” she tells you before running back to the bathroom and you let your mind wander again leaning up against the vanity chair her makeup flat iron and hair tools splayed around. Your eyes catch yourself in your floor to ceiling mirror that you had him carry up a week ago when it finally came in the mail.

“Its yours! F-fuck dont stop baby dont nghhh dont stop” he moans his lips finding a empty spot on your neck to leave another hickey. His hand on your hip tightens as you throw your ass back on him matching his thrust like yall were trying to out fuck another you couldnt even tell how many times yall came let alone you did just that your legs were soaked down to your knees.

Watching him through the mirror you cant help but to admire how fine he looks as his head rolls back and his bottom lip is in between his teeth, from the way his abs clench to his muscles flexing when he raises his arm to take another shot from the bottle giving you the most demonic smirk. 

His left hand wraps around your neck pulling you up so your back is against his chest head tilted up squeezing your cheeks to open your mouth before spitting the shot in your mouth fucked out expression turning soft when he watches you swallow.

“Shit, its yours” he slurs kissing down your neck pushing your hand out the way so he could play with your clit himself. “And this is mine”

For yall to only be friends who fuck from time to time yall loved to play the possesion game. Marking another up, claiming another during sex even right now fucking without a condom was crazy.

“Shit youre so tight, just for me so fucking perfect” he starts rambling and you know hes close everytime he was he would start with his pussy drunk confessions and while it absolutely turned you on it also hurdled you into an orgasm. Your body was starting to feel weak, muscles aching and pussy sensitive. He lets out another groan when you clench your core basically Milking him.

“Fuck fuck fuck im bout to—“ he starts and the henny completely takes over like two evil little demons on your shoulder filling you with wicked whispers in your ears except the demon is you. Terry is confused when you twist in his arms and you're on your back until your legs wrap around his waist pulling him back into you. 

“You going to cum for me daddy? Your dick feels so good when you fuck me like this. Feel so full” oh and does that unlock something in him, you NEVER spoke like this. Atleast not by this point you were too fucked out and only able to let out high pitched whines and moans.

“You are so fucking fine i love watching you, love the way your skin feels against mine, love hearing you moan for me. Love your body” you moan as you fingers trail over his arms slowly pulling him closer watching the way his eyes roll back. Oh you were talking TALKING. He was so far gone he doesnt hear anything else only feels the tight warmth of you wetness and the consistant  thump of your thrust his head finding your shoulder.

Its only when your nails begin dragging down his back causing him to shudder a deeper thrust in you that has you fall just as far as he did and your legs tighten around his hips pulling him so much closer to you to whisper in his ear.

“Cum in me daddy”

“Ok im wearing this, i just wish you werent on your period so you could come with us tonight” your bestfriend returns with a bathing suit top jean shorts and heels. She definitely looked like a baddie—

Hold on, you werent on your period. Now that you think about it you were suppose to come on two days ago.

Oh fuck.

OOOOOH FUCK.

You don’t want your bestfriend to worry, or panic or miss out on the party especially since she spent so much time, effort and money so you nod with a fake pout but adjusting her bikini bottom straps to stick out the top of her shorts.

“If you have to represent us i need your foot on the hoes necks”

Standing in the cvs aisle you look at all the different pregnancy test, this was your fourth time in this aisle you had a different brand pregnancy test for each time you walked down already and a bottle of water. 

What you don't expect is to hear your name being called from behind you and you know that voice you know its the man who's very fault is the reason why you're in this aisle.

“Not right now, i'm not in the mood” you snap looking over the boxes again and again until he steps up behind you watching the nervousness build on you. Your hand was already shaking so any question he had died on his lips the moment he realized this was for you and not anybody else.

“So you wasn't going to call me?” He ask taking the four boxes from your hand and throwing it in his basket with the two boxes of condoms he originally came in for. That was a stupid question, you were already here with your own thoughts brewing of course you weren’t going to call him.

“Why didn’t you call me, you know we’re friends above anything” he tells you looking down at you and you avoid eye contact. That was why; yall was just friends… that fucked. You didn’t want to face reality with him and have that conversation. Didn’t want to do the whole coparenting thing never seen that for yourself you wanted a family not wanting a broken home. You were pro choice but— damn your thought process hadn’t even made it this far. 

You felt nauseous.

“Hey hey hey breathe for me, it's going to be okay. We're going to be okay” he promises, kissing your forehead and holding your face in his hands, his eyes flickering down to your lips so fast you swear you imagined it. 

“Let's just see what it says first okay?” And he waited for you to agree, pulling you into a safe hug, his natural cinnamon scent enveloping you and you never wanted to leave his arms. “Let's be where our feet are, no worrying about the future”

Biting your nails as you sit on the couch your feet tucked under you in silence as every single thought runs through your head of what the outcome is. Hoping for the best, prepare for the worst.

Terry sits next to you, arms resting behind his head and sits in silence as the two of you wait for results though unaware to you, the silence is killing him.

“Is this the part where we talk about baby names?” He asks not expecting your mean glare but it only makes him chuckle. He pulls your feet from under you and into his lap massaging your calves watching the way you physically relax.

“Terry this is serious, i'm scared” you finally admit biting at your nails only stopping when his large hands pull yours into his he looks like he’s about to confess but the timer goes off sending you flying to the Bathroom.

Negative.

Negative.

Inconclusive.

Negative.

“So are we having twins?” He ask coming around the corner looking at you through the mirror, just like he did last week and that's what got yall in this position in the first place. Wait, twins?

Hold on… We?!

You don't realize you spoke out loud until he begins speaking again eyes never leaving you.

“Yes we, i don't really think me being a single dad of twin girls would be easy so we” he tells you pulling your hand so he could see the negative results before looking back at your face. You are completely lost for words because what? Had he been hoping for positive results?  the fact that even if you wanted to bail he didn’t.

“You wanna be a girl dad?” You finally get out eyes lighting up and he chuckles at your expression picking you up, his muscles flexing up against you as he carries you out the bathroom back to the living room.

“Having 1 or 2 mini versions of you running around in a big yard with a nice house close enough to the city so they could go to a good school i'm thinking private school—“ he starts to ramble and you start to feel like the lady who has all the equations floating around her head because how did yall get here?

“Wait” you blink rapidly before looking up at him, a small smile coming to your lips even though you're still confused.

“I can't see you driving a minivan though maybe those bmw sedans in all black. They are not reliable cars but you a lil boujee so i’ll take care of it for yoh and you so fake stubborn but thats okay just one of the things that made me love you hopefully our daughters don't have that though and just come straight to me. You think they'll—“ his words are cut off when you place a hand over his mouth stopping him and his eyes drop down to your tiny figure in his lap.

Twins? Yard? Big house? Bmw coupe? Well that actually sounded nice? Wait he was speaking so fast your mind was a real soup sandwich after that.

“You love me?” You ask, face scrunched up, not just letting that slide by. You can feel his smirk under your hands and honestly you aren't ready to move them because you're scared for him to repeat that. Your insides were bursting, heart racing and breathing heavier— more nervous than before finding out the results of the pregnancy test.

He can tell you're trying to process and this may be one of the only times he ever shuts you up with his words. You had a slick tongue and never let him have the last word.

Pulling your hands down from his mouth so he can fully confess he holds your hands against his chest making sure to keep eye contact.

TWINS?!

“Yes, i love you” he kisses the back of your hands waiting for you to respond. Its not like he told you he just liked you or something nah love was a big thing and maybe it was his fault for this whole friends with benefits situation anyway but he wanted more. He wanted you. 

“You don't gotta say it back just yet but i would like to at least take you out on a date. If you couldn't tell i want you and everything that comes with you… whatever comes with you” Terry gives you that lopsided ass grin shocked when you press your lips against his but he wastes no time kissing back softly. His hands find your face as your lips move against another. Just another thing that turns you into a bigger puddle than you already were.

“Wait twins?” You pull back and he smiles at nothing laying back pulling you down to his chest using the throw on the back to pull over you so youre warm.

“Or 10, we can actually start practicing right now” he casually shrugs making you sit up grabbing his attention. 

“Im not pushing out ten fucking kids terry” you laugh laying back on his chest pushing your hands up his shirt to feel his warm skin choosing to purpousely ignore his comment about practicing now.

“Alright fine 6” he sucks his teeth as if he was the one that had to push out kids and you shoot him a playful glare.

“How we go from twins to 6, you was pushing it with twins” you laugh so hard your vision blurs from the tears building because he was funny as hell if he thought you were pushing out more than 3.

“So is that a no on twins?” He ask as if you can decide if you have twins or not, hes so hellbent on it though you start to actually consider the thought.

“I would like to be married and have a house first” You tell him realistically. Before you have kids you want to be stable and want to have somewhere to have them. Anything built on a rocky foundation is doomed to crumble and you wouldn't set your future let alone your kids up like that. They need a stable and loving environment.

“Silver or gold?” He ask referencing what type of ring you would like before taking note of the tennis chain On your neck with the matching anklet. He doesn't wait for your answer either… he already knew. Just like he knew you'd be confused by him asking that.

“You haven't figured it out by now that i'm crazy about you? You can have anything you want from me all you gotta do is ask”

“Tell me you love me again”

yall omfg imagine terry as a girl dad!! Of twins! Yall think he would be super overprotective and ready to kill or a pushover for them or both? Damn now i kinda wanna write him as a dad🥹

lmfao bitch imagine having a pregnancy scare and he keeps talking about having twins bro id deadass never get pass that

[c0ffinshit]

Simon (John Q.) SFW AND NSFW Headcanons

a/n: i knew yall would like that so here are so hcs that i had that i can now share with the world

warnings: controversial, mentions of pussy eating, me speaking my truth

SFW:

okay, first off, this man claims to HATE modern music but… he has a soft spot for Fiona Apple

listen, this man is madddd and if he were a woman he would be a lesbian

he always drives you everywhere

even when you’re like “babe i can drive its fine” he’s like “no, i’ll drive”

he tells people his favorite movie is something film bro-y like fight club, but his favorite movie is something like little shop of horrors or when harry met sally

sorry im projecting

honestly, he is bad about talking about his emotions like homie doesn't have the words for it so he just gets angry

BUT he learns a lot from you about that

actually, you learn a lot from him too

he talks so highly of you, even before dating

like always talks about how he can hardly have a good and controlled day without you

if you two are a long distance away, he'll always call you and talk about your day

but even then, you two will stay on the phone for hours, just talking about whatever and how much you miss each other

always tries to be a sweet boyfriend and make you breakfast

expect he will burn it and the kitchen will be on fire

i will say this: simon is a sensitive boy, esp with people's emotions like if you're sad and crying about something you called 'stupid' he'll still hold you and tell you how not stupid it is

he HATES when you're upset, esp if he can't do anything to help you

he'll just sadly watch you til you feel better

and when you do, he'll get you your favorite blanket and stuffed animals and kiss you like the good bf. HE. IS.

sorry, my daddy issues are on full display *sobs*

definitely doesn't like it when you call him babygirl or pookie

even as a joke

the man doesn't get that

my man has an old soul IM SO FR

like he doesn’t really like modern TV or music

movies… that a different story

HE FUCKING LOVES MOVIES.

especially if it is like a movie musical or high fantasy (like lotr or hobbit)

maybe a comedy but like a comedy from like the '60s that is probably super offensive now

nfsw under the cut

NSFW:

first off, do i agree with the top allegations for simon? kinda.

listen listen, i only say kinda because of the fact that this man has angry ISSUES

like if you are being a brat, this man doesn’t hold back definitely into spanking for this reason

OKAY I HAVE A THING… when you two do it together, he is very… parental (if that makes sense)

like yes he is daddy we know but like he is the type to whisper “this is for your own good” as he spanks you

two words: BODY. WORSHIP.

this man will kiss and touch your body like it's your last day on earth

AUGH AND AND the look he gives you when he’s inside you FUCKKKKKKK

the look is filled with so much love and gratitude for you okay like this needs to be stated at all but like 8 inches

the type of 8 inches that hits against your cervix in the right way

AND ANOTHER THING when you two first get together, his libido is very low

which also means he is very easy to take care of

soooooo if you wanted to just do a blowjob, you hypothetically could

but then, like three or four months into dating, HORN DOG.

you're surpised when he isn't pressing against your while cuddling

but if anything, you’ll be the one getting head, not him

THIS MAN IS PUSSY WHIPPED.

like he will grab your thighs and pull you closer while eating you out he lovesssss hearing your moans when you're under him UGH

dude but like on the rare time like he will bottom, its lowkey kinda…

JOHN Q IS A SWITCH AND I WILL CONTINUE TO SPEAK MY TRUTH

this mfer groans like no tomorrow when he does bottom

soft,,,, begg…ing

like “you’re so good.” and then under his breath its “please keep going.”

also that boy has a praise kink with hints of degradation

am i saying that because i wrote a whole fic about it? yes. fuck yes.

im chewing at the bars of my enclosure

he gets so blushy when you look at him with your fuck-me eyes

COMMUNICATE WITH THAT BOY.

tell him what you want

tell him where you want it

tell him about your fantasies of him

he loves hearing your voice, especially when you talk in a soft and seductive voice

listen, the only reason i kinda don’t agree with the top allegations is because i believe JOHN Q IS A SERVICE TOP.

i've made my point very clear about that throughout this section

[pursuitseternal]

21. "You look better with my hands around your neck." F!Dark Urge Old One Warlock because she has a thing for the neck (both for her and for Astarion)

“Breathless”

Spawn Astarion x F!Reader | E | Smut Asks

Kinktober Bingo!: Breath play

CW: breath play, choking, semi-public inappropriate use of invisibility, keep quiet

📸 by @nenalunes here

“Are you certain you’ve done it right?” Astarion whispers into your mouth. “Remember the last time you cast Invisibility at the Wizard shop and lost your focus…”

You stifle the laugh in your throat by biting your lip. “No no, why would I ever lose concentration?” you giggle quietly.

That devious fanged grin, widens as he whispers in your ear, hips pushing you harder into your bed in the corner of the Elfsong, even as your other companions mill around after supper. “Would you like me to give you a reason? Or maybe two… or three… or four…”

You burst into flirtatious giggles before his cool, dexterous hand claps over your mouth. “Darling, tsk, my foolish darling, they might not be able to see us but they could hear us,” he croons, hips grinding at a tantalizingly slow pace… dragging so slowly over your panty-clothed sex as he humps you still in those leathers. “Now, keep quiet,” that lean body undulates over you, just wave after wave to shove his cock into your folds through your underwear. He's hard, so hard you can feel the ridge of his cockhead through that shining, supple leather of his breeches. “Silent as the grave,” he laughs, breathless against your lips.

Between those intoxicating presses of his sex against yours, he slips a hand to tease your clit, just enough to make you gasp and squirm.

And a wanton moan escapes your mouth, even as your companions begin to shuffle and wander around the room.

Even if their eyes deceive them thanks to your spell, their ears would not mistake that noise.

You choke, Astarion’s rakish smirk bares all his teeth down at you as his talented hand caresses your neck… before he closes around it.

His grip is present but light. Just enough to make you desperate, just enough to bring those little dancing spots over your vision. Your breath whistles deliciously. And the way his fingers close around your throat is a perfect fit, feeling almost as tantalizing as when he bites.

The way those crimson eyes lock into yours, you realize he’s hearing your thoughts, those tadpoles of yours still a boon and a curse. But now, it makes him lick his lips, craning your choking throat to one side even as he grinds against your clit. Cool lips sigh a cool breath into your ear, the precursor you crave to the big moment… to the instant his fangs slice your neck. He bites, and you keen, your voice rough and stilted as he throttles you, but your body has a mind of its own. The whine that escapes you is high pitched and needy, your hips slamming on the sleigh bed beneath you as you need more of him. His lips make surprisingly quiet work of drinking you down, just a demonstration of his control compared to your lax approach as you mewl yet again.

His smirking lips push against your ear, his hand easing enough for you to get a lungful of air before he squeezes even tighter. “Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” he rasps with playful laughter, repeating the same mantra you’ve heard him hiss at himself while being his stealthiest.

You try to giggle, but your breath is too trapped beneath his commanding touch. He releases you, just as those little sparks start to dance over your vision. “Easy, darling, I wouldn’t want you passing out on me before I make you come on my cock,” he chuckles near silently as he shimmies his leathers down. “I need you alert enough to keep that spell of yours going so no one sees just how desperate our leader is for her lover…”

Gods, was he right. Desperate, needy… especially when those lithe and skilled fingers went to work around your neck. You try to keep your excitement quiet as you feel that blunt tip of his cockhead against your mound, and you eagerly give aid to sliding his pants just low enough.

Fucking in a room full of companions was a challenge enough. Doing it while maintaining concentration on your Invisibility spell, and staying quiet enough to keep suspicions low… Well, the task at hand was daunting.

And thrilling.

You wrap your arms around his neck, rolling your hips until he slides himself right inside. His tongue tangles with yours, his fangs dragging with sweet pain on your lower lip. Just the soft pads of his fingers dance over the sinews of your neck… pushing where you’re tight and scratching his nails right where it gives you tingles and shivers down your spine.

Those hips roll with expert precision, that slutty waist of his undulating and flexing even as his hands tease your neck. Lips push on yours, his corpse cold breath filling your lungs, his exhale for your inhale. Your breathing grows rough, your whines more pronounced and needy, making his fingers cease their exploration of your neck. A moment's pause and he looks down at you with lust-blown eyes, black and dilated wide. “Beautiful,” he groans. “So beautiful…” his fingers squeeze your arteries and windpipe in a matching rhythm of his fucking. “But you look much better with my hand around your neck…” he croons, his plush and smirking lips twist sharply as he squeezes.

And instantly your walls flutter and your belly heats. You can feel your blood rushing to your cunt even as it struggles to reach your brain.

A strangled moan sneaks past his grip, his lips crushing yours as he kisses you, gagging you as you come undone. Your vision blurs, his hand releasing your throat as his thrusts grow erratic and clumsy. With his own stifled whimper, he comes, cock pulsing and throbbing as he fills you.

Something about the way the air kisses your skin… the way your heartbeat is full in your ears, you realize it… The magic breaks, and poor Gale as he crosses towards his bed confirms it. His brown eyes wide as he stares at you entwined in your bed before he rounds on his heel. Your concentration is decidedly broken now as you pant and swallow air.

Astarion laughs. “Well, if your magic is broken, we can always just think sneaky thoughts…” He nuzzles your neck. “Gods,” he purrs, kissing the places on your neck that ache the most from his hand, “don’t I just love to leave you breathless. It’s quite a sight…”

[thirstywoso]

Love me like a sailor - Jessie Fleming x reader

A/N: a little bittersweet childhood sweetheart fic, now I've re-read it I kind of hate it and let's just say there will be a lot of angst coming - you've been warned

THIS IS A RE-POST AS TUMBLR IS HAVING A MELTDOWN

WC: 2k

Warnings: none atm

Synopsis: long distance is taking its toll on you relationship with Jessie

London, Ontario. You knew it well, why?

It was the city you'd grown up in, learned to love and where you now as a 26 year old adult resided. It was also the city you met your childhood sweetheart. Jessie or as most people knew her Jessie Fleming the captain of the Canadian women's soccer team.

You'd met Jessie when you were in kindergarten and since then the two of you had been inseparable. It wasn't until 9th grade though where you'd both realised your friendship was maybe something more, Jessie had been bold and made the first move.

It had been shortly after her debut for the senior team, at 15 years old it was a huge step for her. You'd gone to see her play and unbeknownst to you the feelings you had for the dark haired girl were also creeping their way into her, only the feelings were for you.

So there you were at the sidelines, back then the games weren't so busy but you held up a sign for her "Fleming is my hero" she came over and said hi, the freckled Canadian grinning from ear to ear.

Shortly after the game you found yourself sat cross legged on her bed watching some old movie you'd probably seen a hundred times, yet this time you felt different. Your gaze shifted to Jessie whose eyes were already trained on you, she gave you a soft smile and before you knew it her lips were on yours.

You reciprocated the kiss and in your teenage brain it felt like hours when in reality was more than likely ten seconds, that's where it all started though. The innocent touches, the shared looks until one day you decided to bite the bullet and ask Jessie to be your girlfriend and now here you are just over ten years later. Still loving that goofy lopsided smile and those big brown doe eyes.

The issue with London, Ontario though was that it wasn't Portland, Oregon which is where Jessie currently resided. That being said it was two and a half thousand miles closer than London, England which was where she had been for the past three and a half years.

Jessie playing across the border provided to be easier than when she was across an entire ocean. It mean't she could fly to you during off season, you could fly out to games especially the ones she played on the east coast. It was easier. There was no doubt about that.

Yet after graduating high school together and both going to college on the west coast of America yourself at Berkeley and Jessie at UCLA, then dealing with the time differences being on different continents, nothing felt as distant as it did now.

You always knew Jessie would go far and even though you both decided it was best for you to stay in your hometown to pursue your career it seemed to be eating at you more and more.

This is something you should probably bring up to Jessie, yet it never seemed like the right time. When you saw her you'd go to talk but something inside of you didn't want to ruin the precious time you did have together and then she would be gone again. However, over the phone also didn't seem like the best way to have this conversation. So you kept it to yourself.

That was until you visited Portland, Jessie had been there several months by now, however, you'd only managed to get out there a few times but it was better than nothing.

This time was different though, she was showing you some of her favourite places she had found since being in the city, one of which was a coffee shop on the river. As you walked in you took note of the way the barista who you'd soon come to learn was named Alex beamed at your girlfriend, her face slightly dropping as she clocked you and your fingers threaded through Jessie's. This didn't go unnoticed by you.

She greeted Jessie as you both came up to the counter and Jessie introduced you to her, telling you how Alex had helped her one day when she got caught in the rain and the paper bag with her groceries had split. They'd soon became friends and Jessie would frequent Alex's coffee shop, it seemed odd to you that Jessie hadn't mentioned her to you before.

As you turned to find a seat you noticed that the shelves in the shop contained some old cameras and some books, the layout of the shop and the items scattered is only what you could describe as a representation of Jessie's brain. You mentioned this to Jessie and she told you that's why she liked this place so much, her eyes then wondered over towards the counter where Alex was looking over at you both smiling. A pang of jealousy struck you in the chest.

Once you'd both finished your coffee Jessie suggested one of her new favourite walks that Alex had apparently showed her, you politely declined, feigning a migraine and asking to go back to her apartment.

Arriving back at the apartment you laid down on the couch on your front a pillow under your head as your arms stretched out underneath it, that's when you felt some soft material poking out from under the couch cushions. After a slight tug you find a flannel shirt, one you didn't recognise.

"Hey babe" you call out

"What's up?" Your girlfriend says walking over to where you lay.

"What's this?" You ask holding up the garment in question

"Oh" she scratches the back of her neck "That's Alex's, she must've left it here"

"What was Alex doing in your apartment? Much less leaving clothes?"

"She just came over one day after I'd finished training to bring coffee... she must've got hot and just left it here by accident" Jessie says almost questioning it herself.

"Right.." you say pushing yourself up so you're sat on the edge of the couch.

"What? You don't believe me?"

"It's just. Jessie, you seem real close with her. The way she was eye fucking you across the coffee shop, how her clothes are literally in your apartment. How you've never told me about her ever yet she seems to be a big part of your Portland life, it just doesn't make sense!" You say beginning to raise your voice.

"I didn't bring her up because I want to focus on you when we talk, she was certainly not eye fucking me and she's just been helpful since I met her"

"Yeah, yeah Jessie, you can't deny the way she looked at you" you yell at her

"You're out of your fucking mind!" She yells back

"I'm out of my fucking mind, clearly you are lying or just so stupidly naive if you don't think she likes you"

Your words are almost instantly confirmed when Jessie's phone lights up on the coffee table,

Alex💕: You still coming over after you drop your girlfriend at the airport tomorrow?

"And there we go" you say gesturing to her phone

"Wow, we are really doing that huh?" She says handing you her phone

"Go on look through our messages" she huffs at you rolling her eyes

"I'm not saying I don't trust you Jess, I'm saying I don't trust her" you place her phone back on the coffee table.

Running your hands through your hair you don't know where to look, settling on the ground you can't bring yourself to look at her.

"She's just a friend, even if she does have feelings I promise you I don't" she says tilting your chin to look up at her.

Begrudgingly you make eye contact with her, deep down you know she's right. Jessie could never cheat on you... could she? You shake your head dismissing that thought.

"You're right, I trust you Jess. It's just been hard you know? You've been so far away for so long and I'm not one hundred percent sure how I can keep doing it" you let out a sigh feeling relived you addressed your feelings.

"Right... so what does that mean for you? For us?" She narrows her eyes slightly somewhat taken aback by your statement. It wasn't that Jessie hadn't also felt the strain and had begun to have those questions herself, it was more that she hadn't even thought about you feeling the same.

"I'm not sure, I love you Jess, I always will but it's just not felt right for awhile" you say your chest tightening

"I see, I love you too but you're right it's been hard, what should we do?"

"Maybe, maybe we should take a break. See how we are in a few months from now?"

"And if we are meant to be, we will be?" She says sadness seeping into her voice

"So, this is it?" You ask tears brimming in your eyes

"This is it" she repeats back to you.

"For now" she follows up.

-

Before you knew it you were on the plane back to your hometown, Jessie still in Portland. Your conversation last night ended with the mutual decision to keep contact to a minimum whilst you both figure things out.

You'd gotten on the plane with a book and some music downloaded on your phone, the way you'd kill the next few hours instead of enduring crying babies and staring at the seat ahead. That all went out the window though when a girl in the seat next to you was struggling to put her luggage in the overhead bin.

You being the kindhearted person that you were you'd decided to give her a hand, helping her cram her baggage in as she slammed down the bin door. Only she ended up knocking your phone out of your hand which came crashing down in the aisle.

She was so apologetic but that didn't help the fact you now had a broken phone and a six hour flight with nothing but yourself and your thoughts.

This gave you time to think about your relationship and your own life. You'd been with Jessie for all of your adult life and half of your teenage years, the time you had made you realise how you didn't know who you were without her, this break would be harder than you first thought.

You loved Jessie, you really did. Just for now you knew you needed to see who you were and what your life was without her.

After several hours of your mind ticking away back and forth between if you made the right decision or not, how you felt and if you should've just stuck with it you finally exit the aircraft making your way to the luggage carousel. As you turn to take your luggage you see a pair of feet in front of you and hear what sounds like someone gasping for breath.

"Oh hi" you say slightly surprised at the disheveled girl in front of you, the same girl from the plane.

"Sorry, it's just, I... hold on" she pants out

You stay still your gaze steady on her whilst she regains composure.

"I, I'm sorry about your phone. I couldn't let you go without apologising again and.." she rummages in her pocket pulling out a crumpled napkin with the airline logo stamped on it.

"This is for you" she says handing it to you

"Your dirty napkin?" You question confused.

"No, open it" she laughs

You do, looking up meeting her eyes a confused look still plastered on your face, eyebrow slightly raised and head cocked.

"What, what's this?" You ask

"My number silly" she giggles to herself lightly before carrying on "when you get your phone fixed, call me or text me and we can grab coffee or something and I'll reimburse you for the damage"

"I don't expect you to do that"

"It's nothing really!" She insists

"Well I'll agree to the coffee but don't worry about anything else" you bargain with her

"Deal" she shakes your hand "It's a date"

Those three words replayed in your head the rest of the day.

[everybodyshusband]

kinktober ; day two, jerking off instructions ❤︎ mist/rain

contains: rain's personified tentacle (she's a she), new summon rain, mist showing rain the wonders of sentient genitalia

approx. 1140 words. ghostober list compiled by @kroas-adtam !!

Mist’s breath is hot against Rain’s ear, her hand cool where she’s positioned it over his, guiding his fingers as they ghost over the length of his tentacle. They’d spent so long trying to coax it out of its sheath together that they’d both laughed in disbelief when they finally managed it.

“She’s shy,” Mist murmurs. “Bit like you, tadpole…”

“‘M not shy,” Rain protests, breath hitching as Mist guides his hand to wrap around his tentacle. He also didn’t miss the way she referred to his tentacle as a she. He thinks he likes it. “Just… quiet.”

Mist hums in agreement. “Always the quiet ones,” she says quietly, almost to herself. Rain’s not entirely sure what she means by that, but he can hear the smirk in her voice as she speaks. He gasps as the water ghoulette curls their fingers tighter over his tentacle, moaning softly as he tilts his head down to watch as the tip wriggles and squirms under their touch.

“F– fuck…”

“Nice, right?” She leans forward just enough to attach her lips to his neck, kissing gently over the gills fluttering there and moving slowly down the length of it.

Rain nods quickly. “Uh huh. It’s… different?”

He feels her grin against the bare skin of his shoulder. “Not a bad different, I hope.”

“No!” Rain is quick to defend himself. “It’s good. Really good. Promise.”

The water ghoulette throws her head back and laughs, jerking their conjoined hands tighter around Rain’s tentacle and pulling a soft moan out of him. “You’re not in trouble, little siren, it’s alright.”

Rain huffs a sigh of relief.

“Although,” Mist starts up again. “I do think it’s time you learnt to handle her on your own.”

“I– What?” That’s new. He can’t tell whether Mist is personifying his tentacle for an actual reason or whether she’s just trying to rile him up. Whatever the reason, he kind of likes it.

Mist takes her hand off of Rain’s, rubbing his arm comfortingly with her now-free hand. “You can do it, tadpole. I’ll guide you, tell you what to do. I Promise.”

Rain breathes in shakily and nods,  flexing his now lone hand over that unfamiliar part of himself. It’s silly to be nervous, he knows. It’s not like he’s never jerked off or fucked anyone before, it’s just that this and all its weird anatomy is an entirely new concept to him. He hadn’t even known he could do this until Mist had cornered him this morning, promising to show him a good time if he’d let her. He can’t deny that he’s having a good time—he’s loving all of this—it’s just different. She is just different.

Right now, she is wriggling in his grasp, writhing in strange, almost hypnotising patterns as she chases her own pleasure. Maybe this is why Mist calls her her own separate entity, it really does feel as if she’s got a mind of her own, focussed on her own whims with no regard for how her actions make Rain feel. Luckily, every movement of hers sends shudders through him, as if every sensation is magnified now he’s no longer in control.

“She likes you,” Mist breathes, making Rain startle. He’d half forgotten she was here, sitting behind him.

He laughs breathlessly, chuckles hitching on gasps as he sets nerves alight all throughout himself. “I’d hope so, she’s a part of me.”

“Mmm,” Mist agrees. “But better to have her like you than hate you.” She coos down at the tentacle, reaching down to run a finger along its length. Rain gasps as his hips buck up into her touch involuntarily. “She wants to see you cum, tadpole… You gonna give her what she wants?”

Rain nods helplessly. “Uh huh, wanna help her. Wanna cum,” he mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut as his tentacle rubs herself more erratically against his hand. Somehow he knows that she’s urging him to squeeze tighter, to move his hand over her. “Oh fuck,” he whines as he does exactly that, rhythmically squeezing his hand around her as he slides it up and down.

Now that he’s moving his hand, he realises that she’s self-lubricating and he cracks an eyelid to glance down at her length, now shining with slick. At that sight alone, his hand speeds up, pressure building low down in his gut as he does so. It’s a bizarre sensation, as if he’s jerking off someone else but feeling it in his own body. Briefly, he wonders whether this is what Aether and Aeon brag about being able to do, but that thought—and indeed all others—is wrenched from his mind as his tentacle goes ramrod stiff in his hand.

“Mist, I–”

“Keep going, Rain,” she murmurs against the shell of his ear. “It means she’s close.”

He nods, letting his hand fly as fast as it can over… her? Himself? Whatever. Vaguely he notices his arm is cramping but he doesn’t care, how could he, when he’s feeling everything else with such wonderful intensity? “Mist I think I– I think she’s gonna–”

“Fuck, that’s it tadpole.” She runs gentle fingers over the gills on his ribs as he speaks, sending shockwaves straight to his cunt and straight to her. “Make her cum for me.”

And really, that’s all it takes. At Mist’s murmured demand, Rain’s hand speeds its movements, droplets of slick practically flying off of his tentacle as he works her over the edge. His legs jerk as his muscles spasm, everything except pleasure gone from his mind as he makes both himself and the tentacle cum. She paints his belly in streaks of inky blue fluid as he cries out desperately and squeezes his eyes shut yet again against the onslaught of pleasure he’s experiencing. It’s like a dual orgasm, as if the both of them are separate entities rather than the one singular organism, and Rain truly does not know how to handle it.

He slumps back against Mist as he comes down from what might have been the best orgasm of his entire life, both Topside and in the Pit.

The water ghoulette’s chest rumbles as she laughs softly, bringing a hand to his head to stroke his hair gently. “You have fun, tadpole?”

“Mhmm,” he mumbles, too fucked out for real words just yet. She hums. “Good.” Her hands scratching against his scalp feel so nice, he could honestly fall asleep right here. As comfortable as he is though, there’s something pressing against the small of his back, something wriggling, and– oh. “I hope you can recover from this quickly, Rainy,” because if you thought she was good for you now…” He can hear the grin reflected in her words. “Fuck, just wait until you see what it can feel like when she has the chance to play with a friend…”

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

When I arrive at the office Monday morning, I immediately have the urge to walk straight back to my desk and bury myself in work as I normally would. But then, remembering the promise I made, I stop and stand in the doorway, silently fighting with myself over which direction to go while the room fills with its usual chatter as people start their day.

Eventually, the better part of me wins out and I walk toward Ash’s desk, my feet moving heavy and slow along the black tufted carpet. My jaw clenches tight as I remember how we left things yesterday. We haven’t spoken since, and I worry we’ll have backtracked to where we were only a month ago, when things were awkward and cold, when he barely spoke to me. But I meant it when I told him he’s my best friend, and I’ll do whatever I can to preserve that, so I prepare myself to face him and hope he’s willing to talk to me.

But when I approach his desk, he’s not there. His chair is empty, and his monitors are still asleep. Every day since he started, he’s already been here and working by the time I arrive. But not today.

I tug at my upper lip with my fingertips as worry fills me. Is he sick? Is something wrong? Is he avoiding me?

I look toward Lex’s desk and find her facing away from me to talk with Kamryn, complimenting her performance at the club the other night. I’m certain I won’t be her favorite person today, but my worry over Ash overshadows my concern for whatever bodily harm she has planned for me, so I walk over and interrupt her, “Hey Lex?”

Her smile falls when she turns around to face me, and her eyes squint slightly behind her glasses, “What?” It’s not a friendly greeting, but it could be worse.

“Is Ash coming in today?”

Without breaking eye contact she points to her left, “Over there.”

My gaze follows the direction of her finger, past the desks to the kitchenette along the far wall, where Ash is filling a cup of coffee and laughing. Evan is over there with him, clearly having said something very funny, and my jaw clamps down again as I feel a burst of irritation spread through me. I don’t know why I’m bothered. It’s nothing new. They’ve been friends with Ash as long as I have. But there’s something about the way they’re talking to him, the way they’re smiling at him, in the same place where I first met him, laughed with him… I remember that day clearly, it was warmer than expected and he had that same jacket tied around his waist, holding a cup of coffee and smiling up at me as he asked my name… I wish I could go back to that day. I wish we could start over again.

I shake my head and look back at Lex who rolls her eyes at me. “You know, he is going to move on one day.”

Right. As much as the thought fills me with dread, I know she’s right. With a small nod, I say quietly, “I know.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Go talk to him.”

“Is he mad?”

"No, you're fine. Just go."

"Alright, I'm going."

When I approach them, Ash looks over at me, still smiling from whatever hilarious banter they were in the middle of before I showed up, “Atlas, hi.”

“Hey.” I suddenly feel awkward with the two of them looking at me. Maybe I shouldn’t have come over; maybe I should’ve waited until later to try talking to him. But it’s too late, I’m here now, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to say.

Evan, sensing the rising tension, takes a nervous breath and says, “Okay. Well, I should probably get to work.”

Ash gives them a grateful smile and waits for them to leave before turning to me and asking, “You wanna take a walk?”

“Sure.”

It’s a nice day out, bright and sunny, the sky cloudless and blue, but it’s deceiving. Without the insulation of clouds, the air is frigid. The kind of cold that reaches into you and grips your bones. The kind of cold I’ll need to get used to.

We walk in silence for a minute or two, and I get the feeling he’s waiting for me to speak first, but I don’t know what to say or where to start. I know if I wait too long, I won’t speak at all, so I opt for something mundane and hope the right words will come to me once we start talking. “How did things go with your sister yesterday?”

“It was fine. She got the last pieces of furniture for the nursery and wanted me to help set it up. I wish I hadn’t gone though.”

“How come?”

“I have a bad habit of always jumping when she says jump. It’s something I’m working on, but it’s hard. I wish I’d told her no. I wish I hadn’t rushed out on you. I’m really sorry about that. And I’m sorry if I made things weird.”

He’s apologizing to me?

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one that should be sorry. I don’t know what my problem was yesterday. I woke up feeling so, I don’t know, anxious, I guess.”

“Probably the fuckin’ molly. It’s fun while it lasts, but the come down can be a bitch sometimes.”

“Yeah, I guess. But aside from that, you’re right, I’ve been confusing and I’m sorry for that. I just… I wish things were different. I wish I was different.”

“What do you mean you wish you were different?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

“Well, for the record, I don’t wish you were different. I think you’re pretty great just as you are.”

I have trouble believing he means that, but the words make me smile, nonetheless. “So, are we okay then?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re okay.” He gives me a soft, reassuring smile that warms me from the inside.

“Good,” I breathe a sigh of relief. He’s far kinder to me than I deserve, I know this, and I don’t ever want to take it for granted. “You really are my best friend, Ash, and I don’t want to mess that up.”

“I know. I don’t either.” He looks like he may want to say something more, but then decides against it and looks away.

Without thinking about it, I reach over and rub his back. When I do, he smiles up at me and I have an overwhelming desire to pull him closer. I consider for a moment whether I should, or whether it’d be better not to, finally deciding to just ask, “Can I give you a hug?”

His smile widens as he nods, “Always,” and throws his arms around my shoulders.

It’s strange. My whole life I’ve always kept a certain distance from people, always shied away from affection. Never having the courage to admit that I needed it, let alone to ask for it. But here I am now, with my arms around him, squeezing him tight, and allowing myself to relax into his, to be comforted by their warmth.

I’m not sure when it happened, but something in me has changed. A small piece of me, healed. And it makes me wonder. Wonder if there’s hope. Hope that it’s not too late, that maybe I can still fix the parts of me that are broken.

As we step away from each other, and begin to circle our way back, he asks, “So, d’you maybe want to get together this week and work on our game or something?” I like that he’s started referring to it as our game. I like that we have something that’s ours. And I wish more than anything that I could make time for him this week.

“I don’t think I can. I have to train. We only have four months until our climb, so I need to get focused.” The truth is, I’ve been more than a little distracted lately, and Kiyoshi’s been getting after me, worried I won’t be ready. I’m not particularly worried, but I promised I’d do better.

“Oh right. It’s gonna be here before you know it. You should definitely focus on training.”

“Yeah. I’ll have some time on Saturday, though. If you want to come over.”

“That works. So, are you not going to the Winter Party on Friday then?”

“Shit, is that this week?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, yeah no, I’ll be there. I was actually supposed to ask you, are you brining a plus-one?”

“No, why, are you?”

“Yeah, my sister. Dawn wants to come.”

“Oh, that’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, but she wants to bring her boyfriend too. I was supposed to ask if you’d mind putting him down as your plus-one so he can come along.”

“I don’t mind, as long as he’s not an asshole or anything.”

“Phoenix? No, definitely not.”

“That’s good. My sister has a long history of dating assholes. I’m glad yours has better taste.”

“Right. How is Iris doing anyway?”

“She’s fine. Very much ready for Spencer to arrive.”

“I bet. You ready to be an uncle?”

“Hell yeah. I’m gonna spoil the shit outta that kid.”

“As you should.”

Prev // Next

[zan0tix]

May I just say I really really appreciate your approach to and respect for the transfemininity embedded in Homestuck. Like the fact that you depict Jake as a kind of "genderfuck" (for lack of a better word) character without trying to divorce that from transfemininity as so many others do, as well as being able to depict Roxy with certain clocky characteristics without disregarding her femininity or making it feel fetish-y, is all really admirable in my eyes. It gets extremely frustrating seeing large swathes of the fandom constantly trying to separate the story of Homestuck from transfemininity despite it having a transfem enby author, so I really appreciate that you don't shy away from it in your art :)

I am so glad!!!!! Its something ive Always noticed in like every fandom since i first got onto the internet the disparity between the amount of transfems i knew vs how often their story got to be uplifted in fandom spaces or get to be celebrated how transmascs did considering how queer dominated they are but then i grew up and realised how badly male centric queer spaces are too😭

Homestuck is one of the spaces that has a big amount of transfems openly engaging in fandom activities and that makes me really happy to see! since i often see gross rhetoric from transmascs or cis women about fandom spaces abt “who is allowed” and “fandom being a safe space” cough blatant transmisogyny (sobs everywhere its so bad)

I DONT UNDERSTAND HOW PPL BRUSH PAST HUSSIE BEING TRANS SO OFTEN ISNT THAT INSANE. To me it reframes homestuck how the creators of the matrix being trans does. Like I dunno maybe that informed the works presentation of gender somehow. Maybe all the commentary and critique and displays of frustration at the contradictory nature of gender but especially trying to fit “being a man” in society came from somewhere when they were writing it 🤔🤔🤔 hussie said it herself that alot of homestuck was just stream of consciousness. Everything that comes out of daves mouth near the end seemed very plausible to be a reflection of hussies own journey realising that Actually these boundaries of what defines A Good Man and A Good Woman are ridiculous and no person can possibly live up to that no matter what were told from birth.

But i try my best to reflect the innate transfemininity of homestuck and the majority of its cast, its something integral to the works themes and just the community who built it! It saddens me how skittish other transmascs are about engaging with or portraying the transfeminine stories when its just. Practically textual. And all you need to do is Listen and empathise. I love learning how other feminine people see themselves in this story like how often do you get such a menagerie of in depth fem characters. And i love seeing what the experiences transfems see echoed in homestuck are because its all such insightful stuff About femininity and its beauty and its ills all at once. Roxy..kanaya.. wipes tear from my eye.

I want to actively include and celebrate transfem features and bodies as much as transmasc ones get to be around here and i am glad my jake and roxy do feel that way 🥹🥹 my aim with my designs is to make them feel like some everyday people youd see, no fetishisation/sexualisation or demonisation, just Existing and appreciating. Because i know how much it can mean to see yourself in something and for that to be treated with care and kindness. Its why i create in the first place! Because of how others creations gave me that comfort when i couldnt find it elsewhere

I feel similarly about how people portray fat women or just like. Women in general. its sad how badly the whole sexualisation = acceptance warps how people portray things fatness or transfem features. Never ever saying these things arent hot or sexy or to be appreciated. Duh. I think how i portray jake says enough abt what i think of that LOL just that It feels like its the only way people try and show theyre accepting? Which just feels so gross and dehumanising the only way they think to display they feel empathy is through saying “Yeah i can get off to people like you”😭

Rlly bad in society in general so also in the homestuck space. Worlds hardest challenge is liking the alpha kids. Im so sorry for what they do to you jane and roxy🥲🥲🥲 Its baffling because Homestuck is Prime Example Numero Uno of how to humanise characters. Just display them being people; their thoughts, their feelings, their insecurities, their passions, their woes, their loves, their losses. So much can be communicated through how a character speaks with their friends.

I wana do that for jake and roxy! They get to be dimensional too! I like showing their laughs and their sorrows, just them Existing with the people around them. They get to be a part of the lighthearted comedy just as the rest of them do. They get to be a part of all the gender and sexuality insanity going on in their friend group, can point out their flaws and mistakes and insecurities. I dunno its rlly not that hard to just empathise with them and want to tell their stories.

I am so invested in the raw unabashed Humanity of homestuck. Its just one person pouring their brain contents into this huge thing and it displays the best and the worst and the absurdity and the questions. Its so interesting and hussies transness IS JUST BAKED INTO IT. Thus the characters contain that too and it kinda stinks of transmisogyny to throw that out!

YAPPING TOO MUCH OMG but i rlly appreciate this ask🫶🫶🫶makes me so happy to hear

[pokemonshelterstories]

Howdy, so I have a odd question about bisharps and possibly/trying breeding with other pokémon outside of its egg group?

For context, I regularly foster pokémon from shelters and abusive conditions and I have this disabled bisharp with disabled charizard following him around everywhere, they both are male btw and are very affectionate to eachother, the shelter told me they both were used for breeding and hate being with their own kind so maybe that's a reason? They make nests in my backyard with melted stones and stay there for hours, I'm not sure why or if this is concerning...

it's not unheard of, though usually it's an imprinted pokemon treating its trainer as a mate- and this really only happens in highly social pokemon that keep the same mate over an extended period of time. i'm not really convinced that's what's going on here. for the vast majority of pokemon, sexual reproduction is a natural behavior, but not something that they really form opinions about. it's hormone-driven and may have social aspects; breeder pokemon typically only develop reactivity to their own species either as a result of natural temperament or poor socialization. i don't get the sense that this is trauma-based.

what's more likely happening here is that the bisharp, without a group of pawniard to lead, is looking for some sort of social group to participate in. charizard, on the other hand, are not social pokemon, and they seek out contact from other pokemon only for the sake of mating with them or battling them. what's happening here is probably some sort of social standoff driven by miscommunication between the two species. the result is that, instead of battling like they normally would (given they're both disabled, that may not even be possible), they're becoming inappropriately attached to each other.

unfortunately, this is something you as their foster really need to put a stop to by separating them. it's not an appropriate species interaction, and both of them could end up hurt. charizard, being a fire type, could easily cause damage to the bisharp. and if this odd social situation does result in either an attempt at mating or at dominance-based mounting, the charizard is going to wind up injured or even killed. both of these species' mating/dominance displays are fairly violent. the charizard should be kept by himself for the most part, and the bisharp needs social companionship that better resembles his species' natural social hierarchy.

[kurokawaia]

❛ STRONG ❜

Iguro Obanai X Fem!Reader

WC;500 ~+| !MDNI! | TW/CW :: fluff

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: 1st, thx again 4 writing my request! 2nd, I had another one so I'll put it here! Obanai x fem! Reader who's not in the corp, but she's very strong. Like stronger than Mitsuri. Obanai sees the reader kill a demon the size of a mountain by kicking its jaw with her legs and he's like "...why is that sort of attractive-" once they meet, Kaburamaru goes up 2 reader for pets and Obanai is kinda impressed bc Kaburamaru never does that. Reader and Obanai then get to know one another better. Sorry if this is long/confusing ToT - @freddleafton12345-blog

m.list | demon slayer m.list

You sprint off towards another village, your speed and grace as it always has been, until you feel it-something big, something formidable.

A demon.

You charge forward, dodging its wild swings with ease, feeling the power build up in your legs as you position yourself right beneath its massive jaw. You set yourself, muscles tensed, and with one swift and upward kick, you send the demon's head snapping back with a sickening crack.

It's all over in just a few seconds.

You feel eyes on you from across the forest. You turn to see someone dressed in black and white, black hair, mis-matched eyes. Your gaze moves to his katana, he's part of the demon slayer corps.

His eyes catch yours, and for one fleeting instant, his lips part, as if to say something. He does nothing but simply stands there,, processing the scene before him.

"...why is that....?" attractive. The words slip from his mouth in a murmur-quiet enough that he thinks you didn't hear them.

Before either of you can say anything, Kaburamaru, his snake, slithers down from his shoulder and beelines toward you. You crouch, offering your hand, and with Obanai looking utterly surprised, Kaburamaru wraps around your arm, clearly enjoying the attention.

Obanai blinks, looking slightly taken aback. "He...doesn't usually do that."

You continue to stroke the snakes head gently and raise an eyebrow. "Guess I've got a way with animals," you go on, smiling softly.

His eyes are on you, and you can tell he's interested. "You're not part of the Corps."

You rise to your feet, Kaburamaru still coiled around your arm, and shrug. "No, but that doesn't mean I can't handle a few demons."

"More than handle," he mutters under his breath.

Obanai takes a step closer, observing as Kaburamaru continues to unwind in your company. "He likes you. He's usually not so... trusting."

You meet his gaze, a little caught off guard. "Maybe Kaburamaru thinks I'm not so bad." You smirk. "What about you? You trust me?"

Obanai turns his head, his eyes slitting as he considers. "I don't trust easily," he says. "But. you're strong. Stronger than most but strength isn't everything."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "What is, then?"

He hesitates like he doesn't know how to answer before finally saying, "Connection matters more." His eyes flick down to Kaburamaru, still plastered against your side.

"Connection, huh?" You give the snake one last stroke, before reaching out gentle and offering him back to Obanai. "I guess we'll see if we can build one."

Obanai reaches out and takes Kaburamaru, his fingers touching yours for just a second. "Maybe we will," he says softly.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | demon slayer m.list

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Please

Kinktober day 2! Song is Nonsense by Sabrina Carpenter. Modern AU Gale x Tav.

Doe perched at the bar, bathed in neon lights. She ran a long nail around the rim of her cocktail glass, gazing into its sweet red depths. It was almost full, and she was bored; the grape-press crush of bodies was a mush of neon pinks and lime greens and the occasional flash of blinding blue-white teeth in the blue gloom.

She scanned the bodies, trying not to inhale the heady mix of dried sweat and spirits, and the gentle ghost of vomit. Her date had vanished, his curly hair indistinguishable in the crowd.

'Fuck sake,' she muttered. Sitting with her chin in her hand, she barely noticed when the stool next to hers was occupied, until a piece of paper slid under her nose.

you look in need of rescue

written in neat cursive. She read the words once more, chancing a glance to the side.

'Gale?' she mouthed. His dark eyes glittered in the bright lights, shirt crisp and glowing. He offered a sympathetic smile, slid gracefully off his stool and offered a hand. She hesitated and then took it, his warm grasp anchoring her as they wove through the crowd and into the chilly air outside.

'You need to stop going on dates with men who don't appreciate you,' he said by way of greeting.

'Rude,' she shot back, stung. 'Why's that your business?'

'Doe,' he said, squeezing her hand. 'You're a clever, capable, gorgeous girl. You're wasted on the likes of Aradin.'

He gazed down at her, his eyes warm but serious.

'We've known each other for years and you tell me this now?' she asked, tilting her head.

'Look, this isn't a pass,' he said, dropping her hand and taking a step back. 'I don't mean it to come off like that. I just mean that you-' he looked away. His jaw tensed and he exhaled through his nose, a stream of white smoke in the dark. 'You deserve better.'

I must be dreaming. Gale Dekarios, the man I've been crushing on for years now...

'Mr Dekarios, are you asking me on a date?'

Of course not. He's just being nice. Preposterous. Idiot.

He looked up, hope alighting in his gaze. 'Would you accept?'

Oh holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fu-

'Depends.' She tried keeping things light and playful, even as her heart was in her throat. The effect was slightly marred by the way she trembled. 'Where would you take me?'

His cheeks flushed pink and he licked his lips, voice a croak when he spoke again. 'Oh, anywhere you wanted.'

Warmth pooled in her stomach. Oh, gods.

'Here.' He took off his tweed jacket, draped it around her bare shoulders. She was enveloped in the smell of books and sandalwood, coffee and vanilla. She huddled into it, even though the sleeves were far too long.

'Oh, you smell good,' she said without thinking. She felt the blush from the roots of her hair down her neck. 'Fuck, I didn't-'

'Come home with me.'

'What?' She blinked at him, bug-eyed, her heart hammering. 'Did you just say?'

'Pretty please?' he asked, mouth quirking into a sheepish smile. 'Pretty please with a cherry on top?' He held out his hand, wiggled his fingers, raised an enquiring brow.

'You're so silly,' she said.

'Call me a diviner, but I think you like silly.'

'Maybe a bit,' she said, taking his hand.

'I hope you don't mind,' he said. 'But we'll being going home by bike.'

'Oh.' She giggled in confusion. 'Like... a tandem bike?'

'No,' he smirked. He wouldn't elaborate, walking silently with her hand held firmly in his. And then he stopped down a side street.

In front of a shining black motorcycle.

'Oh,' she said.

He dropped her hand and opened the saddlebags. 'I always keep a spare,' he said, extracting a bright purple helmet. 'Here. Oh, and-' he pushed up his shirt sleeve, pulled a silk scrunchie from his wrist. 'You don't want your hair to turn into a tangled mess.'

The unspoken hung in the air.

Yet.

She tied her hair back, watched him retrieve another tie from the opposite wrist and do the same, then pull on a snug black leather jacket, gloves, and his helmet.

'Clip it under your chin,' he said, swinging a long leg over the bike. 'Climb up behind me and hang on tight. Remember to lean when I do.'

She swung up behind him, grateful that she'd opted for leather trousers instead of a skirt, winding her hands around his waist. The bike roared to life, purring beneath her. Gale nudged the kickstand with his boot and they were off, the city flashing past them in bright swathes of colour. He wove expertly through traffic, laughing in delight as he pushed the bike faster, until they were going 90mph and both of them were laughing like lunatics.

The wind cut through the jacket she wore, chilling her to the bone, but she didn't care; Gale radiated warmth and she could barely breathe with the exhilaration of it.

And all too soon, they were slowing, pulling up in front of a smart townhouse. They dismounted, helmets and leathers packed back into the saddlebags, and then he was bounding up the front steps and unlocking the door. Doe giggled when he threw it open dramatically and swept into a bow as she stepped over the threshold.

'I hope you'll forgive my lack of decorum,' he said lowly as he closed the door behind them. 'But I have been wanting to do this since I saw you at the bar.'

And then her back was against the wall, his warm body pinning hers, belly to belly and chest to chest. His knee slid between her thighs, his mouth on her mouth, his fingers twining with hers, held either side of her head.

'And you seemed so sweet,' she gasped when they broke apart, nose to nose.

'Perish the thought,' he said, the husky rumble of his voice shuddering through her body. 'Gods, the things I'm going to do to you...'

He kissed her again, slid a hand into her hair and bared her throat, sucking hickeys into her pulse, down to her shoulder, nibbling gently.

'Tell me,' she gasped.

'Mmph,' he said in protest, mid-kiss. 'But that means I have to stop kissing you.'

'A compelling argument, but- ngh-'

'Hmm. Okay, sweet girl,' he said, rising to kiss her lips again. His eyes smouldered. 'I'm going to fuck you against this wall.' He kissed her again. 'And then bend you over my desk.' Another kiss. 'And then on the sofa, in the shower, in my bed...' he pulled on her earlobe with his teeth. 'How does that sound?'

Like heaven.

'Like a challenge,' she gasps. 'For how many times you can make me come.'

'Hardly a challenge,' he says flippantly. Her heart stuttered. 'I bet he never even knelt for you, did he?'

Ah. So you're proving a point.

'No.'

He made a noise of disgust. 'Hmph.'

'Well?' She strained against his restraining hands. 'Get on with it.'

He smiled wickedly at her. 'Say please.'

A flare of defiance rose in her chest. She pulled against his grip to kiss him again, but he pulled tantilisingly out of reach. 'Gale-'

'Come on,' he grinned. 'Beg.'

She growled, squirming in his grip. 'Please.'

'You can do better,' he crooned.

'For fuck sake,' she whined in frustration. 'Please. Gale, godsdamn it those better be promises. I want you to fuck me all over this beautiful house.'

'Hmm.' He deliberated, eyes glittering. 'Since you've been such a good girl... why not?'

Tags:

@bluerosetarot @dansnotavampire @further-than-forever

@forget-me-maybe @poetryvampire @sasha199 @wandawillow

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana @amorgansgal

@aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard

@crimson-and-lavender @reeseykins @medra-gonbites

@roguishcat @weaverofnetheril @galedekarioswifey @hyperfixationstation128 @lastlight-inn

@astarryvamp @feedthepheasants @dabigstinky @dreamingofthewild @ladyofcrowsandcoffee

@femmefuck

[smol-n-smol]

Odd One Out: Chapter 1

A/N: Finally banged out the first chapter for this story based on this idea I came up with a little while ago. I hope y'all enjoy! I'll make a proper blurb at some point

Also I'm gonna be so fr, I've never done a tag list for a story before, so I'm just pulling this based on people from comments/tags who sounded like they wanted an update? If you want to be added or removed, just let me know :)

Tag List: @axolotlsdreams @seasonschange32 @tthevoic3s @kgonbeiden @coffehbeans

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

With its multilevel Roman-inspired buildings and wide cobblestone paths, the Kingston Academy campus is practically a work of art in and of itself. The early morning air carries the scent of prestige and erudition along a crisp autumn breeze.

Eriel stands before the glimmering gates of the academy, building up the nerve to walk through. He’s intimidated by the size of it all, though probably not for the same reason as most new students. It’s less that he’s afraid of getting lost in such a large place, and more that he’s scared of accidentally crushing something beneath his feet.

As the first giant to attend Kingston, it’s obvious that the school was never designed with his kind in mind. Most of the three story buildings don’t even reach the height of his shoulders. Even the monumental clocktower in the center of the courtyard just barely passes his 46 ft frame. 

If Eriel really wanted to, he could probably  jump right over the entrance gate in front of him. Not that he would ever do such a thing of course!! The thought alone of accidentally damaging something (or worse, someone!) is enough to send a wave of goosebumps down his spine.

Thankfully or unfortunately — Eriel is still trying to decide whether his enrollment here is a good or bad thing — the gilded gates part, at last inviting him onto the campus. There aren’t many students out yet, which makes sense. It’s barely past 7 AM on a Monday. Given the choice, Eriel wouldn’t be up this early either. Even so, the giant’s eyes stay focused on the ground as he navigates to the gymnasium on the other side of campus.

Usually students receive their orientation packets inside the administration building, but given his impressive size, there are only a handful of buildings that Eriel can fit into at all. The gym doubles as an auditorium and a venue for special events. The high ceilings were probably originally meant for improved ventilation and added elegance, but now the only benefit Eriel cares about is that he can at least sit inside without feeling overly claustrophobic.

He enters the building through a modified loading dock door. While he still has to crouch to fit through, it’s much better than having to crawl on his hands and knees like the first time he visited the building for interviews and psychological evaluations. Now that was a humiliating experience. He had been poked and prodded, and asked the most demeaning questions. Eriel shoves those memories back into a mental box. He needs to stay focused on the present moment.

Once he reaches the main area of the gymnasium, Eriel is finally able to sit down properly. The sunlight from the windows warms his skin. While he may not feel hot and cold the way that humans do, it's  a comforting sensation nevertheless. If he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend that he’s back in the forest with his family.

He misses them, despite it only being the first day. If the integration program goes well over the next year, maybe his little sister will be able to join as well. She’d probably learn much more easily in a school than from the limited knowledge that Eriel is able to share with her every so often. It was difficult enough to teach himself most of what he knows — his knowledge a hodgepodge of information from the occasional abandoned books that sometimes wound up in the forest.

He doubts that Lora will keep up with his studies while he’s away, but a big brother is allowed to hope, right?

Just the thought of the young girl falling asleep while poring over a human textbook is enough to make Eriel chuckle aloud.

“I’m glad to see you in bright spirits today,” a voice says, bringing Eriel back to the present moment. 

Mr. Leeway, the head administrator and school guidance counselor, now stands on a walkway that wraps around the walls of the room. Eriel meets his gaze nervously, though less eye-to-eye and more eye-to-full-body. Thankfully with a giant’s enhanced vision, Eriel has no trouble with making out the details of the man before him.

“Good morning, sir,” Eriel greets in response, his back straightening as he now sits in a human’s presence. “Thank you again for allowing me to attend school here.”

The counselor  waves a hand, brushing aside Eriel’s politeness. “No need to be so formal now,” Mr. Leeway responds kindly. “You’ve more than earned your spot here after all.”

Immediately, the giant’s shoulders drop. In retrospect, those were the words he’s been hoping to hear. The ones he needed most for today.

He’s grateful that Mr. Leeway is so accepting of him. Hopefully the rest of the staff are as well. Eriel has yet to meet any of the professors at the academy. While it’s unrealistic to expect everyone to be this friendly, hopefully no one is too afraid or mean. 

As Mr. Leeway patiently talks him through the school handbook, the dorm system, and the giant accommodations scattered across the campus, Eriel can’t help but feel like maybe things will be okay.

“Any other questions?” the counselor asks, pausing long enough for Eriel to shake his head before continuing. “Perfect. Well in that case, I’ll let you get a head start towards your first class. Best of luck, kid.”

Eriel sits still until the human leaves before at last rising stiffly to exit the building.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The campus is much livelier now than it was less than an hour ago. Students walk in small groups to different destinations — some dressed in uniform and heading to classes, while other folks are still in pajamas, clearly in search of their first meal.

Eriel is one of the less fortunate folks, his first class starting at 9 AM. He’s always been a bit of an early riser, as most giants tend to be, but part of him wishes that he opted for a schedule with a later start time. He’d appreciate a bit more time before having to face his new peers.

Mr. Leeway assured him that all the students received a special training and information session on interacting with giants. In theory, everyone should be prepared for this transition. And yet, as Eriel rises to a standing position, stretching slightly to relieve his back of some of its stiffness,  it’s as if the whole world holds its breath.

Everyone stops whatever they’re doing once Eriel reaches his full height. The slight crack of his joints resounds throughout the quiet air, unintentionally drawing even more attention to the giant. 

The poor students closest to him quickly back away, and one especially frightened soul even faints. Eriel winces at that. The reception makes sense, and honestly, it could be a lot worse.

Slowly, the giant takes a step, just a small one in the direction of his class. Immediately, a group of nearby students begins to run away, despite the ample space Eriel makes sure to leave between himself and any humans. The giant sighs but continues on his way. What else can he do?

It takes only a couple of minutes for Eriel to cross the campus to his destination. The English building stands before him, just barely reaching his chest. There’s no chance that Eriel is going to be able to squeeze into the building itself, much less one of the classrooms inside. For pretty much all of his classes, he’ll have to sit outside and listen in through the windows. 

Eriel follows the instructions in his handbook packet to find the window for his first class. A large awning has been set up along that side of the building — big enough for Eriel to be able to sit beneath for protection from the weather. He’s used to sitting outside for prolonged periods of time, but he appreciates the cover anyways. It will certainly help to keep his notes neat at least.

With the few minutes he has before class begins, Eriel puts down his backpack and digs out his notebook and pencil. The set was a gift from his mom — the pages were re-usable and the pencil was designed to provide more or less endless writing. Once he settles down in his dorm, he’ll be able to type everything up on the computer that the school provided him with, but this combination is much more efficient for carrying between classes.

Intro to English Literature, Eriel writes on the first page, taking his time in making the headline look pretty. It gives him an excuse to keep his head down and avoid the watchful gaze of the other students around him.

It’s only when the bell rings that he at last looks up, positioning his face so he can clearly see the blackboard through the window.

“Good morning, class,” the professor says as she enters the room. Her brown hair is done up in a bun and a pair of quirky glasses accentuate her wide grin. Her smile falters as her eyes meet Eriel’s, but props to her for managing to keep up the expression at all. The same can’t be said for the other ten or so students sitting in the classroom, who look back at him with expressions ranging from fear to disgust to cold interest.

“I’m Professor Dockerty,” the teacher continues, her introduction regaining the attention of most of the students. One boy is a bit slower to turn away, his blue gaze unabashedly staring right at Eriel. And then, the boy — Ashton, based on his response as Professor Dockerty takes attendance — smiles at him.

Okay, it’s more of a smirk, but even that’s better than the other looks.

“Did I miss anyone?” the professor asks.

Eriel gulps but shyly raises a hand, limbs tense and heart pounding as he draws additional attention to himself. A few of the students flinch as his fingers come into view of the window, and upon seeing that reaction, Eriel immediately puts his hand back down. Hot shame rises in his chest and his cheeks burn as he realizes the fear that a simple one of his actions could cause.

“I don’t think I heard my name, ma’am,” the giant all but whispers, desperately wishing for this moment to be over already.

Professor Dockerty laughs nervously, glancing down at her papers again. “Oh my, I must have missed it. Eriel, correct? Our giant student? Great! Well, if that's everyone then let’s start by going over the syllabus.”

Eriel doesn’t get a chance to say anything throughout her ramble, but the professor is already handing out paper packets to the students.. There are just enough for everyone in the room. Eriel doesn’t even bother asking if there are any extras for him.