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hrrtshape · 2 months ago

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culture shocks after shifting back from 536 b.c babylon to....modern day.

the cold. the all-consuming, soul-devouring cold : one moment, i’m basking in the golden warmth of babylon, where the air is thick with the scent of incense and ripening dates, where the evenings are a balmy +20°C and the closest thing to “cold” is a mild desert breeze rustling the silk curtains of my palace chamber. and then!!! then i shift back. i shift back and step directly into lithuania in february. -13°. my body went into immediate protest. my bones are rattling. i am a victim. i am the protagonist of a tragedy.

clothing feels like a violence...or better yet, torture !!! : listen. i spent my week draped in the finest silks and linens, soft and whisper-light against my skin, wrapped in golden threads, my hair perfumed with exotic oils. i woke up, and attendants dressed me. i didn't even have to think about it. now i am expected to put on my own socks. my own sweater. my own coat. and the fabrics......cotton.....polyester??? harsh. unforgiving. i feel like i am being punished. i tried to wear a wool scarf and nearly ascended out of sheer tactile suffering. babylonian me would never have allowed this.

i am, sadly, no longer surrounded by attendants : where is my handmaiden with my morning pomegranate juice? where is the soft-spoken scribe noting down my musings on the stars? where is the sandal-bearer? WHERE IS THE GIRL WHO BRAIDS MY HAIR? i woke up and realised i had to brush my own hair, and i almost threw myself back into the astral plane out of sheer disbelief. you’re telling me I have to function independently??? this is unacceptable.

food.........what is this. where is the saffron. where is the date honey. where is the spiced lamb : i had a divine diet. every meal was a poetic masterpiece. rosewater-soaked figs. almond pastries. fresh bread dipped in olive oil infused with crushed herbs. every bite was an experience. i shift back and suddenly i’m eating…what? a supermarket garlic bread which i had to put in my oven? a reheated pizza? where is the ceremony? where is the flavourful indulgence? i used to sip my honey scented wine from a bejewelled goblet. now i’m drinking coffee from a mug that says "box box box." i have fallen from grace.

the architecture is just... sad : babylon, the city of wonders. towering ziggurats kissed by the sky. intricately carved stone reliefs. courtyards framed by towering columns, fountains flowing with cool water, golden mosaics depicting stories of gods and kings. my palace was a dream. i shift back and... panel housing. grey buildings. sad little sidewalks. a lidl. where is the grandeur?? where are the hanging gardens?? i used to roam marbled halls, and now i’m stepping over slush.

bathing ??? suddenly a logistical nightmare : in babylon, my baths were rituals. steaming water infused with rose petals, attendants scrubbing my skin with fragrant oils, golden pitchers pouring warm water over my shoulders. i would emerge radiant, perfumed, divinely cleansed. now? i have to turn on my own shower. i have to wait for the water to heat up. i have to use... store-bought soap. i have to wash my own hair. i feel abandoned. i feel forsaken. my shampoo is called “extra volume & repair,” but what about my soul? where is the repair for that???

transportation is an insult. to my dignity. : i rode in carriages. i walked through palace gardens in soft, embroidered sandals. now i am… on public transport? now i have to walk in the cold? now i have to wait for a bus? and it’s late???? babylonian me would have ordered someone to bring the chariot around. 2025 me is standing in the freezing wind, waiting for a vehicle that has no golden embellishments whatsoever.

the lack of supernatural occurrences : babylon was enchanted. the gods were real (or as real as the city made them), the omens were real, magic flowed through the city. dreams carried messages, the stars whispered secrets, the high priestess could look into a bowl of water and tell me my fate. every moment meant something. i shift back and... nothing. no divine prophecies. no sacred visions. i check my horoscope and it tells me to “avoid making big financial decisions.” where is the drama. where is the destiny.

conclusion: i am suffering. but i am also so powerful for having lived through it. would i shift back to babylon? yes. will i survive modern lithuania in the meantime? .........tbd.

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sobbingscripter · 2 months ago

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˚˖𓍢ִִ໋💙་༘Beastly˚˖𓍢ִ💙.ִ࿐

Tags: [aged up][mlw][mdni][drabble][a tester if you will][doggy style][spitting][clit teasing][implied creampie][low-key mutual pining][inexperienced!][missionary][slight foot fetish, but less 'i like dem toes' and more 'let me worship you'][honestly, i'm surprised i wrote this on the spot][not proofread!][biting]

Hips snap.

Flesh ripples.

Your headboard bangs against the wall in unforgiving smacks that your teammates will definitely complain about, and meaty hands dig into the flesh of your hips, leaving stinging bruises that'll leave you in a puddle of self-loathing when the sun rises.

But until then, you'll keep arching your back, pushing the fat of your ass back against carved hips, beneath fern skin that glitters like emeralds in the distant lights that peek through the slivers in your curtains.

"Uh huh— j-just like that..." He breathes out, voice broken and his body breaking out in a cold sweat at the way you're melting beneath him like he's some kind of furnace. All splayed, sweaty and pliable.

And a calloused hand presses to the small of your back, forcing your torso even closer to the sweat and slick-soaked sheets, the covers halfway off the edge of the bed and you whine, manicured nails clawing at the polyester and cotton that you threaten to split the threads.

And a low, almost animalistic groan rings out above you, before his face moves to press into your shoulders, hips stuttering so messily against yours and teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder, bulging arms instead moving to wrap around your waist.

Holding you.

And hips slow to a grinding halt, only pressing the sweetest and gentlest kisses, messy with precum, against the plug of your womb.

Now, you personally don't have any beef with Garfield. But hearing him talk feels like you might actually be losing braincells because you just get so... Dumb around him. Laughing at his jokes until milk leaks from your nose, making an idiot of yourself just to watch the way his lips curve into the prettiest gleaming grin, golden eyes glittering.

You gasp when one hand snakes down between your thighs, forcing you to whine into the fluffed up and saliva soaked pillow when his fingers clumsily rub at your clit, the slick little button elusive beneath unskilled fingers but the effort is there.

And that's what makes your mind go blank, eyes fluttering shut and tears prickling at the corners as you see white, the knot in your belly bursting and electricity seems to prickle just beneath the surface of your skin.

Garfield whines at the rhythmic spasms of your gooey cunt, so warm and so tight, and his hips don't stop, they don't falter as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Teasing, abusing and absolutely punishing your swelling clit, so oversensitive and your thighs quiver beneath his weight.

That smell of ginger and musk fills your nose, a heady combination that has you turning your head towards Garfield, and he instantly meets your gaze.

Taking the time to admire a sight you probably won't be desperate enough to give him a second sight at.

Your flushed cheeks, raw bitten lips and teary eyes, eyebrows furrowed and expression twitching to remain unscrewed and the hand that's teasing your clit slows. To gentle circles that give you just enough of a break to lean towards him, your lips pressing against his in a messy, uncoordinated kiss.

He tastes like those sour candies he always shares. He tastes like ill-timed jokes and permanent smiles.

It's hypnotic and you're deepening the kiss, unsteady breaths leaving your somewhat leaky nose because Garfield might've fucked a runny nose into you.

And that's saying something.

Garfield's tongue pushes past your plump lips unceremoniously, brushing against yours with unskilled motions and the way his brows bunch makes your belly do an unconsensual flip because it would be illegal to look that good when you're absolutely demolishing someone's guts WHILE being an awful kisser.

Something you'd never be able to even get past because Garfield's flipping you on your back.

"Wanna see you..." He mumbles, his voice almost quiet enough to be mistaken for him talking to himself, the only indication that he's talking to you even, is the way his teary eyes dart up to your face.

Guiding your legs to his shoulders and he stops to press a kiss against your ankle, trailing the kisses all the way to the arch of your foot before he's brushing his tip against your swollen and sodden folds.

Nudging your clit teasingly, gasping shaky breaths whenever his leaky slit catches on the sensitive little button and Garfield spits down the cleft of your cunt, slathering your already sloppy cunt with his spit and precum.

Before slowly sliding back into you, his brows twitching into an adorable little frown, lips parting to let out a panted breath. A short gasp, accompanied by the sluttiest 'fuckkk' you've ever heard.

Muscular thighs bracket your hips, and he leans forward, his pelvic bone grinding against your clit with each slow roll of his hips, his face moving to nestle in your neck.

One hand grips your hip, 4 fingers bruising you while his thumb rubs clumsy circles over the protruding bone, while his other hand grabs the headboard for dear life.

You'd focus on the sound of cracking wood if it weren't for the way Garfield sucks marks into your neck, covering them in spittle and kisses.

"You're— fuck— you're so hot. An-and pretty. And— and— god, your pussy..."

Garfield's voice cracks, and he whimpers into your skin when he feels the way your arms wrap around his neck, fingers sinking into sweaty strands of emerald and jade.

And his hips stutter.

"I'm- 'm not close y-yet but when I am..." Garfield takes a deep breath.

"C-can I come inside...?"

His voice is so weak, a stuttering mess and he lifts his head, just enough to meet your gaze and he's so fucking pretty.

You're hearing that stupid Sailor Song that plagues your TikTok For You page. You're hearing blue by yung kai, you're hearing Use Your Heart for fuck's sake.

It's a hard day for your pride when your brain associates SWV with a man named Garfield.

"Y—yeah..." You mumble. "You can come inside..."

You can barely push out the words, and Garfield's hands move to the backs of your thighs, fingers digging into the plush flesh and he pushes them to your chest and he begins to fuck into you with abandon.

"Shit, shit, shit, you're s-s-so wet. Oh my fucking God—"

Hips pummeling, balls slapping against the curve of your ass and your toes curl as you're fucking yeeted into another mind-scrambling orgasm, this one might fucking take you to another realm. Because Garfield just brings his hand to your face, wiping away the drool that's acquired on your chin and he brings his hand to his face, dragging his tongue along his palm and he groans at the taste of his spit.

"Fuck... You're so hot when you're all f-fu-ucked out." He pants out. "You look like an— hah— angel..."

And you can feel his dick twitch against your walls, his body shivers and shudders and his blunt nails dig into the skin of your thighs.

His head dips forward, an overgrown undercut shrouding his face from view for just a moment before his head tips back, hips stuttering wildly and his bottom lip wedged between his pearly teeth, canines glinting in the low light. And he's goddamn perfect.

Leafy skin flushed and rosy, droplets of sweat dripping down in the valleys of carved muscle, sweat-dampened hair so unruly yet so fucking majestic and your nails drag down his torso.

Leaving red streaks in the skin and the way his lips part is... Sinful. And he's so fucking slutty when he leans back, hiding his face in the curve of your foot.

And it's an almost abysmal feeling when Garfield feels his whole body feel like he's been dunked in an ice bath, nipples stiff as him and that tightly coiled rope in his belly is snapped faster than he can think.

"I—I'm— coming—!"

Taglist:

@lucky-beheaded 🌻

@anesthesia-4rizzle 🎀

@feral010 ✨

@blckbarbiedoll 🌷

@allycat4458 🪻

@custardpuddingprincess ⭐

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch 🦄

@theamazkngskye 🍄

@titchx0 🦆

@queen-of-gotham 🦇 (you asked me for Garfield for the Valentine's day thingy, so I thought you'd want a notif)

@starski 🌃

@5lxt4u 🎻

@pariahsparadise 🏝️

@ilove-nsfw 🖇️

@milkstrawburie 🥛

@squigglewigglewoo 🪴

@hhjira 🌬️

@atanukileaf ☘️

@Calicocat-ina-tuxedo 🐱

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bitterrfruit · 7 months ago

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he wakes you up

waking up hungover after letting a cocky scottish stranger spend the night. indie sleaze!Soap x reader, no cw. 1.4k words, mdni an: never posted a part 2 to my old fic trainspotting, but i wrote a good chunk of it. sleazy brow ring johnny is still close to my heart so i thought i'd share a bit of it <3

You wake up slowly, sweatily, mouth dry and fuzzy like you had swallowed a lump of cotton – so delirious, for a moment, that you expect to hear your mother calling for you to hurry up or you’ll miss the bus.

No, instead, you hear the sparkling white noise of running water. Can’t be rain, because the sun beams brightly through your open window – directly onto your face, blinding you, sending you spinning as you tug your thin pillow and hold it over your head to shield yourself.

Groaning, your brain throbs swollen and heavy, your skull an iron vice. You force yourself to sit upright, hoping your feet on the ground will calm the swelling nausea, turbulent in the pit of your stomach. It doesn’t.

Bathroom. Bathroom.

You leap out of bed, sprinting to the door of the Jack-and-Jill bathroom that separates your and Katie’s bedrooms. Throwing it open, you tumble to the toilet, hair unfortunately coating the toilet seat as your abdomen lurches noisily – tossing a pitiful spoonful of pink, cherry-flavoured vomit into the clear water with a foul splash. Ew.

The shower is running, you realise, in the subsequent post-puke calm. You would have expected Katie to say something to your intrusion, but after a year of living together you have very few boundaries left. You wonder what time she might’ve come home during the night – suppose the bloke she went home with must have been a disappointment if she didn’t even stay till morning. No surprises there.

You hear the thud of the shower lever and the water shuts off. After a few deep breaths, you build up the strength to apologise for barging in, sitting on your knees on the tiled floor.

“Sorry – hic – couldn’t hold it in,” you burp, rubbing your forehead, tearing off a piece of loo paper to wipe your nose. “How was–”

“Mornin’, hen,” comes the low voice of a man, tired and gravelly. “How ye feelin’?”

Not fucking Katie.

You cock your head back in shock, swiping your matted hair from your face, as your eyes shoot to the polyester shower curtain being tugged open with a screech.

Hairy legs jut out from the cubicle, big feet land on the shaggy bathmat. Your eyes follow them upward, thick thighs, rippling muscle under a layer of flesh and furry skin. Until your stare hitches on the cock hanging brazenly from a fine carpet of brown curls – thick from base to tip, uncircumcised but its meaty pink head exposed, a hefty vein running down the length of it. Looks heavy even soft.

You choke on any words you might be able to utter – jumping from shock, to fear, to awe, back to confusion. Who…

“Eyes up here, bunny.” He teases you, that gruff voice barely familiar.

A response suddenly comes to you, remembering it vaguely, and your lips form the words as if it were a realisation.

“They’re just as pretty,” you croak, staring into the void of space before you finally glance at the man’s face.

The shaven head, the brow ring, the glint of that golden tooth sparkling from the cocky smile that puckers dimples into his cheeks – now, yes, you somewhat remember him.

“Ah, good. Y’do remember.”

Suddenly humiliated, realising how much of a fucking mess you must be – you look down at yourself, seeing your vastly oversized Strokes band tee that you do not remember putting on. Nor do you remember getting out of the miniscule body suit you had worn to the party, nor peeling off the fishnets that had been flossing you from front to back for the duration of the blurry evening.

There’s probably makeup smudged into racoon-like circles around your eyes, there must be smears of your pink lip-gloss in the corners of your mouth. If you weren't so ill, you'd run and hide from him.

“Did I-” you stammer aloud, attempting to connect the dots. “Were you at the party?”

He tuts, huffing disappointedly, as he reaches for the yellow floral towel hanging on the rail. Katie’s towel.

“Och, dear,” he grunts facetiously, as he rubs it vigorously over his head, patting under his chin, chest, arms. Doesn’t seem to bother asking as he uses it to dry his balls, mammoth dick flopping around shamelessly as he does so. Your cheeks burn pink.

“You weren’t?”

“If I’m honest, hen,” he remarks, as he ties the towel nonchalantly around his hips, tucks it in just above his mound. Still brandishes that happy trail, and the sharp angled creases below his abs that carve from his hips to his cock. “Ye got me feelin’ a bit guilty.”

“Why?” You swallow, doing your best to stop ogling him like a little animal. “Did we…”

He snorts. “You wish.”

You frown, suddenly failing to suppress the admonishing smirk that curls in your lips. “We didn’t do anything?”

He shrugs, rubbing the top of his buzzed head with his palm. “We had a wee bit o’fun,” he admits, a twinge of shame in his rumbling throat, “but no, nothing too regrettable.”

You find yourself weirdly disappointed. “Why not?”

And your slightly dissatisfied query seems to lift some weight from his shoulders, he returns with a grin. “You were a bit steamed, hen,” he says. “would’ve been dodgy of me to stick it in ye while y’were like that, eh?”

“Mm,” you nod, concealing your chagrin, the memory of running into him on the road suddenly flies back to you, colliding with you like a slap.

A complete stranger. Naked (mostly) in your bathroom.

“Didn’t expect you’d be such a gentleman,” you gripe, a tad facetious.

He smiles. “Disappointed, are ye?” He jibes, tilting his head. “Y’were definitely disappointed last night. Poor wee thing. Got all whiney.”

You flush hot as that memory slithers back to you, too. Cheeks aren’t the only thing that burn at the thought. You suddenly harken back to the weight of his palm on your cunt, the mocking pressure of the heel of his palm grinding against your clit. Your stomach drops at the memory.

“Did not,” you murmur.

“Uh-huh,” he chuckles at you, sauntering in your direction, he holds out a hand for you. You smile bashfully as you take it, and he lifts you to your feet so deftly you’re almost lifted into the air. “Feelin’ alright?”

You’re a little dizzy after standing so quick, you blink heavily as you swallow. “Mm. Been better,” you huff, “I probably look like shit.”

He frowns at that, tutting in disapproval as his raffish eyes linger on your lips – you lick them, worried there might be a speck of residual puke in the corner of your mouth.

“Ye’re havin’ me on,” he chides, disapproval in his tone.

“Am I?” You groan, wiping under your eyes with your fingertips in the hopes of swiping away some running makeup.

He shakes his head. “Far too pretty to be talkin’ like that, bunny.”

With a grimace, then a snicker, you glance downward at the chipped pink glitter on your toenails. “That’s nice, but–”

“Psh,” he immediately cuts you off. “Don’t y’believe me?”

Reeling in awkward embarrassment, you cross your arms, digging nails into your biceps as you look everywhere but him. Through a strained chuckle, you answer, “Not really.”

His attention is almost intimidating; an unwavering, low-lidded glare as a smirk tugs in his lips. Tucks a hooked finger under your chin, coaxing your head to lift just slightly enough to look along your nose at him.

From his throat, he rumbles,

“Need me to show ye how pretty y’are, hen?”

Your skin turns molten, glowing and pliant, eyes glossy and eager as you stare up at him through clumped lashes. He simply wears that snide little grin, proud of himself, only growing prouder as he notices how flustered he’s made you. Fuck!

Lips part to let words free but they turn sticky on your tongue, and he brushes your chin with his thumb.

“Look at’cha,” he sneers, letting go of your face; using the tip of his thick finger to sweep a rogue hair from your forehead with a gentleness that you’re earnestly surprised he’s capable of. His tenderness is fleeting, though, because he chuckles; “Too easy.”

Jaw agape, you only laugh as you cover your eyes with your palms. “God, you’re such a dickhead.”

He hums, a giggle, swaggering around you before swinging a quick smack on your ass, making you yip – casual and in passing, such a brash show of lude badinage that you can only gawk at him as he wanders into your room.

“S’why you invited me in, in’t it?”

Crossing your arms, you follow him sheepishly, squinting as you step into morning sunlight. “I don’t think I can remember why I invited you in, to be honest.”

“Mm, well,” he grumbles, “I’ll have t’remind ye, won’t I?”

#love u cocky boy #john soap mctavish x reader #cod smut #call of duty fanfic #soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish smut #soap x reader #bella-drabbles

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tejuskumar13 · 2 months ago

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magpiepills · 4 months ago

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The Layover

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f reader x f reader’s friend x Santi Garcia

Word count: 1k

Summary: you and your friend meet a couple guys on their way back to Florida from Colombia. One thing leads to another and you end up at a motel.

Warnings: SMUT! PIV, oral f receiving, fingering, ff, kissing, facials, creampies, masturbation, unsafe sex, sex with strangers. No beta no editing no proofreading, NO PLOT JUST PORN

A word from the author: idk man. You tell me.

Here’s my masterlist

The pink-red light of the neon MOTEL sign blinked against the window, partly obscured by the glare of the bedside lamp. No one had bothered to close the curtains. Just like no one had bothered to take off the cigarette burnt polyester bedspread. You’d all bundled in, talking and laughing and kisses smacking against skin, and once you were inside Frankie, the taller and quieter of the two men had switched on the lamp and unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, leaving his belt buckle swinging beside his bulge.

Santi was busy kissing your friend, and you took off your shirt. The room was cold and your nipples were already hard, inviting Frankie to suck one sharply into his mouth, scraping it against his teeth as you slid your hand up and down the generous heft of his cock through his jeans.

“That’s enough,” he smacked your ass and followed it with a squeeze that grazed your pussy. “I want you both undressed and on the bed.”

You exchanged a look with your friend, who looked at Santi, the shorter, flirtier friend and he unzipped her skirt and gave her a playful push toward the bed.

Frankie was sitting toward the headboard of the too-firm double bed, pants off, grey tshirt tossed over the lampshade, and turgid member in his hand. He stroked himself base to tip, watching you and your beautiful, shy friend with menace in his big, dark eyes. You pulled her onto the bed with you, and on your knees before the near stranger, you kissed her. You touched each other, stroked each other's hair and necks and tits. Santi looked on, cock in hand, thumb hooked around the thick base as he cradled his balls.

“Lay down,” Frankie instructed, showing you how he wanted you, side by side, heads at the foot of the bed, knees bent.

He admired you for a moment, two naked women, last names he never bothered to ask, first names he wasn’t entirely confident he knew, totally bare and spread out, serving themselves on a platter for him. His cock throbbed. “Perfect.”

He swiped his fingers over your pussy, covering them in his slick before doing the same to your friend. He turned his attention back to you, slurping your pussy, spreading you open with two tick fingers, going straight for your clit only for a moment before stopping.

He took your hand and put it on your girlfriend’s pussy. “Can’t have her feelin’ left out.”

He went back to your cunt, licking, sucking, covering his patchy beard and the tip of his beautiful, curved nose in your arousal.

He gave you one finger, then two, pumping them as he lapped at your clit.

You slid two of your fingers into your friend and pressed your palm against her clit. It was no match for what Frankie could do, but Santi liked it.

“She going to make you come, hermosa? You going to come together? I know Fish has her close. She can’t even keep her eyes open.”

He was right. You were close, and with a few more pointed swirls over you clit you came hard.

“Got something on your face, Frank,” Santiago laughed and Frankie wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, smiling proudly at how hard he was able to make you come.

He turned his attention to your friend, shuffling between her legs to kiss her, dipping his tongue into her mouth so she could taste you. He fucked her deep and slow while she pinched her eyebrows together at the stinging stretch of his cock. When she relaxed, he sped up, snapping his hips down into her as she keened and scratched at his shoulders.

Santi stroked his cock faster in the chair, edging himself while his best friend fucked the girls from the airport bar.

You leaned over and kissed your friend again, moaning into each other’s mouths while you gently rubbed your clit, mixing her wetness with yours, teetering on the edge of overstimulation, but not near ready to let the fun end.

You sucked her nipple, rubbed her clit, and encouraged her. “You look so hot taking his cock. He feels good doesn’t he? Got you nice and full.”

Frankie watched you, teeth bared, grunting as he pounded into her, watching his friend watch him.

Your friend came, legs shaking and back arching off the bed. You felt her clit twitch under your fingers.

Frankie pulled out of her, slick and creamy with her cum, and turned back to you. He sank in slow, grumbling at your tightness, glad for how wet you were to ease his way. He bottomed out and pulsed his hips against yours, making you cry out at the feeling of him so deep, so thick inside you.

Santi came to stand over you, still jerking himself, but allowing your friend to suck and lick his heavy balls as she rubbed her pussy with one hand and yours with the other.

She turned her head to kiss you, and as she licked into your mouth, you came hard on Frankie’s cock.

“Ohh fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.” The sounds in the room were obscene, wet, squelching sounds, skin against skin, and the uninhibited moaning you can only get away with in a run down motel with two men you just met.

As Frankie filled you with what felt like a gallon of cum, Santi aimed his own release onto your face. His seed splattered onto your cheeks and nose and lips, but you didn’t stop kissing your friend. You tasted his cum in your mouths and licked the rest from each other's faces, sharing it in deep, passionate kisses.

Frankie and Santi panted, softening cocks hanging heavy, exposed and unashamed.

“I wanted you to come inside me,” your friend pouted to Frankie. He looked at her with exaggerated sympathy and scooped an errant glob of cum from her chin and fed it to her. “If you want my cum, you can eat it out of your girlfriend’s cunt.”

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wileys-russo · 1 year ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/wileys-russo/747469515079778304/1-if-i-was-her-gf-best-believe-that-entire-flight

perhaps a tiny cheeky blurb about annoying her like that on the flight 😌🙏🏼

in flight entertainment II a.putellas

you stifled a laugh as your girlfriend finally joined you downstairs, luggage in hand which was left at the front door beside your own, her prized LV makeup caddy carefully balanced on top making you roll your eyes.

but it was her current pre flight outfit that had your giggles setting in.

normally you'd not dare to question whatever it was the spanish captain put on her body given that it could be a burlap sack and she'd manage to make it look good.

plus, you were more than happy to raid her closet at will.

though today the case was that both of you sponsored by nike were headed to an event in paris for a launch and the unveiling of alexia's statue, and so you'd both been sent your outfits for the entire trip separately.

assuming you'd both be sent the same you hadn't really worried to show one another the contents of your packages, but now it was coming to light that was most certainly not the case.

you ducked out of sight as she busied herself clearly checking off a list on her phone, if there was something the footballer swore by it was a list, you cleared your throat and took a seat on the sofa.

"ale!" you yelled from the living room, the blonde hurrying in with a concerned look tossed your way at the volume of your shout for her. "qué pasa?" the taller girl asked with a frown as you pretended to look intently at something on your phone screen.

"did you see the news? there is a viral plague of moths in barcelona! they have been eating curtains, fabric furniture, shoes, cotton, polyester-" you looked up at that point and gasped dramatically.

"dios mio mi amor it is too late, they have attacked you!" you pointed as her once genuinely concerned look melted into a displeased glare. the teasing was directed at the fact that her current outfit of choice, a bright pink nike hooded sweatsuit, something the girl often lived in when pottering around your shared home in winter.

but there was something different about this one in the fact that it was, seemingly intentionally, full of holes. all the same size and scattered around every inch of the set.

mind you, you weren't complaining about the slivers of tanned skin which popped out through these holes but you were far too consumed in how amusing it was over anything else.

but your girlfriend clearly did not share that view.

"you are not funny bebé." the blonde grumbled, shoving you to fall back down onto the sofa as you stood and she passed you headed for the kitchen.

"i hope you emailed nike and told them your outfit came damaged amor." you called out with a snicker, squealing as she balled up and threw at you the hand towel she'd just use to wipe her washed hands on and it landed on your head.

"alexia!" you huffed, shooting her a glare now as she simply winked and ducked down, rummaging around in the cupboard beneath the sink for something.

grabbing the damp hand towel before it stained the sofa you rolled your eyes and followed after her, seeing an opportunity as a smile curled onto your lips.

carefully twirling up the hand towel in your hand you walked past the blonde and struck, snapping the towel against her ass with a satisfying crack as she almost fell forward into the cupboard in shock.

"it slipped!" you smiled innocently, tossing it onto the counter as your girlfriend stood and glared you down. "no!" you laughed as she lunged at you, ducking under her arm and racing off as her footsteps sounded quickly after you.

"alexia!" you laughed louder as she caught you, arms snaking around your waist and lifting you into the air before collapsing onto the sofa, twisting around so your back met the cushions and she hovered over you.

"idiota." the blonde tutted, flicking your nose playfully with a shake of her head. "i saw an opportunity and took it mi vida, can you blame me? you'd have done the same!" you smiled reaching up to poke at her own nose as your girlfriend hummed, unable to really argue that point.

"you look good in pink, i miss when your hair matched." you spoke softer, arms wrapping around her neck as her legs settled either side of your hips baring a little more of her weight on top of you.

alexia only smiled at that, leaning down to peck your lips a few times, your hand moving to cradle the back of her head and encourage it deepen a little to which the taller girl paid no objections.

you exhaled and closed your eyes with a happy smile as the blondes lips lazily trailed kisses down your neck now instead, large hands settling on your waist as her thumbs rubbed small circles into your hips.

"can i ask you something cari?" you questioned after a few minutes as her head popped up, nodding down at you curiously. "do you feel...holy today?" you grinned, sticking your finger through one of the tears in the hoodie and poking at her shoulder.

"hey come back, baby!" you laughed as she immediately pushed up and off of you with a scowl and a shake of her head. "the car will be here in five minutes, levántate!" the catalan called over her shoulder before jogging back upstairs.

"amor." alexia warned as your finger hooked through one of the holes in her back, tracing the tattoos which appeared in tiny slivers. you ignored her, continuing to tug and poke and pull at the holes revealing more and more inked up skin.

"para eso!" the midfielder groaned, hand reaching around her back to push you away. "comportarse." the blonde clicked her tongue, her own fingers looping through the belt loops of the parachute pants you had on and drawing your body into hers.

"its not my fault you're like a big blonde beautiful walking fidget toy." you mumbled into her shoulder, the taller girl looking down at you with a confused frown as you chuckled and repeated the phrase back to her in spanish.

"hola sal!" you called out to your teammate as she arrived, handing off her luggage to be stored as the tall girl greeted you both with a hug. "just get out of bed capitana?" salma grinned teasingly poking at alexia who sighed deeply, pushing you away and making a beeline for the jet as soon as it was called for boarding.

"moths attacked our house, put holes in all her clothing." you tutted with a shake of your head, salma laughing as you fell into step with one another following after alexia into the jet.

you gave your girlfriend a look of mock offence as you sat in the seat directly across from her and she rolled her eyes, kicking her as a slightly smile tugged at the blondes lips and she looked out the window.

declining the offer of a drink from the air hostess you tensed ever so slightly as the engines roared to life, alexia noticing right away knowing you were fine once up in the air but take offs always had you a little apprehensive.

"nena, ven aquí." the girl nudged you with her foot, spreading her legs a little more and tapping her lap, eyebrows knitted together with concern. "estoy bien." you shook your head with a small smile, embarrassed that this still bothered you after so many years.

"bebita." alexia called for your attention again, starting to launch into a story from her childhood as a means to distract you, tapping her foot against yours anytime your eyes would stray toward the window.

your stomach lurched and you death gripped the arm chairs either side of you as the wheels left the tarmac, alexia talking even faster and louder and continuing to keep your gaze locked with hers.

finally the seatbelt sign flicked off and with one final dip of your stomach the plane seemed to settle, now flying smoothly as you exhaled shakily and loosened your grip, muscles relaxing.

again your girlfriend spread a little and tapped her lap, pouting dramatically as you shook your head and with a roll of your eyes unclipped yourself and stood.

"much better." alexia mumbled as you sat down on her lap, kissing your shoulder lazily and relaxing back into her chair. you busied yourself speaking with salma and a few members of the team but eventually you grew bored.

it was barely a two hour flight but you were restless, your girlfriend easily having fallen asleep as you felt the rhythmic rising and falling of her chest behind you.

shuffling a little more so you were wedged into the side of the seat you felt alexia stir but rolled your eyes as still hers remained shut, it astounded you that she never found any struggles with falling asleep at the drop of a hat.

so naturally, you found a way to entertain yourself.

you started off by just counting all the tiny holes in your girlfriends sweatsuit, but when that failed to ease your growing boredom it turned a little more physical, your pointer finger poking in and out of them instead.

"mi amor, stop." alexia mumbled tiredly, hand grabbing your wrist and pulling it away, eyes remaining closed. but of course, you continued, moving from the holes in her arm to the holes along her legs, tugging at them.

"bebita." alexia warned, cracking one eye open and raising an eyebrow as you smiled, pecking her lips and moving to poke at the holes in her hood which was draped over her head, finger digging into her neck.

"no." alexia woke properly now, grabbing your hand and holding it in her much larger one, tugging it down to rest against your leg as her eyes closed again. so naturally with your other hand you continued, poking this time at the holes around her torso.

you felt her jolt beneath you as you prodded at a particularly sensitive part of her ribcage, a strange noise halfway between a snort and a laugh leaving her mouth as you dug in a little harder with a grin.

"no no no amor por favor-" alexia begged as you tugged your other hand free, fingers digging into the tiny tears and poking and prodding causing her to laugh and wriggle beneath you.

though the taller girl with her muscular build quickly regained control over the situation, capturing your hands with her own and pinning them to the arm chairs.

you heard her catch her breath with a slight wheeze, your head slumping back to her shoulder and kissing her cheek before she turned and looked down at you with an annoyed glare.

"i love you." you promised sincerely, watching as a soft smile melted into her features and she let your hands go, lightly smacking your forehead before kissing it and repeating the three words back to you.

"what can i say cariño...my life without you is just, one big hole." you quipped teasingly, sticking a finger through the slit in her hood and jamming it into her ear as she huffed and yanked your hand away.

"alexia!" you squealed quietly as she bit your shoulder, pinching your hip with a shake of her head, her hand coming to grab your jaw so you were locked eye to eye, a slight smirk on the older girls own face.

"bebita i am going to make sure that we leave you behind in paris."

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

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theanonymousbooks · 2 months ago

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It still, however, does not have the synthetic fabric dye that I need 😤

There is one JoAnn's fabric store around me that is probably older than me and whenever I look up anything about the stores around me it's the only one that shows no signs of closing and even though I know they ALL should be closing I am praying to all the Craft Gods that it is somehow gonna make it out of this mess alive, if for sentimental reason than anything else.

#no one does #not joann not micheals not fucking walmart #i got 85% polyester curtains from the thrift store that I want black god dammit!!

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aloesarchives · 1 year ago

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JJK Drabble #2

Tw/Warnings: Fem!Reader, Fluff, Fluff Brainrot, Domesticity, Family Man Toji, Usage of Wife and Mom, JJK Oc added

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Reader: Female, Usage of Wife and Mom

AU: Modern/"Toji Lives" Au

(A/N): I'm back! Well, kinda of. Long story short, dealt w/college stuff and had a health scare that kept me away from writing. Also had a mini burnout too. More is explained here!

Thinking about Toji taking up crocheting and knitting because he saw how expensive yet cheaply made certain items like blankets are made. So he buys a simple set to try it out, following Youtube tutorials and watching videos for ideas. Once he masters the basics, Toji is LOCKED IN once again. Making full on hand-made blankets, scarves, hats, mittens/gloves, stuffed animals, covers/cases, bags, scrunchies, even damn rugs. Anything you ask him for, he’ll make it. This ends up being very practical to Toji because he saves so much money by just making them at home himself. It has to be the premium, natural, good quality type. Organic cotton, wool, cashmere, alpaca/llamas, silk, linen, mohair, bamboo, hemp, all of that. Tell him about polyester or something and he tells you to put that shit back. He buys the premium yarn nearby, locally, or gets them imported internationally. Gets every and any colors because he never wants to be limited when making his projects.

There was a throw blanket you wanted for the couch but it was expensive and the size was a lot smaller than you hoped. The next day, you come home to see Toji making it for you. The same color but better quality and inexpensive, and it was the size you wanted too. You were happy and amazed that he made it within a day. Living off your praise and approval, Toji just makes everything. Since he can’t get carpal tunnel or arthritis, his hands and wrists never get tired from working. Though, his posture does get bad and his back aches from being hunched over. The blanket in your bedroom with Toji? He made that shit with fucking love and care. He actually made multiple ones depending on the weather and season.

Man has even made throw pillows, regular pillows, water bottle cases, table cloths, coasters, bags, cushions, and made your own curtains. I mentioned before that everything in your home was either made, customized, or renovated by Toji. This stays TRUE because almost all the pillows and blankets in the house are his creation. The blankets and pillows that cover Megumi and Tsumiki’s beds? All Toji. Both pillows and blankets match each other and are in respective colors for the two. Megumi has one at his dorm because it gets cold over there and he hates sleeping in the cold.

If you are a stuffed animal fiend, like me, you ask Toji to make you any stuffed animal you want. Definitely make squishmallow dupes for you if you asked him. In your personal room/office, there’s a pile of stuffed animals in the corner from Toji that you pluck one from the pile and hold it while relaxing or walking around the house. The ones he loves to make are bees, dragons, whales, dolphins and dogs. And they’re so soft and huggable, you squeeze them all the time. Toji just grins to himself knowing the things he makes brings you and the kids happiness.

Toji “Anything my wife wants, my wife gets. No questions asked” Fushiguro

It’s normal for you to come home to see Toji crocheting/knitting away at something. You either find him in three places at home: the engawa in front of the courtyard and garden, the family room with the shoji doors open, or in his personal room/office. Mostly, he sits outside sitting on the engawa working away at something. It makes him work better, or so he says. Makes his own needles and hooks because of his big hands. Megumi still has his crocheted stuffed puppy when he was younger, still going strong even though it’s been worn down from love. Tsumiki has all the Sanrio characters knitted/crocheted as gifts from Toji.

Tsumiki always wears her hair up in a ponytail, Toji makes her scrunchies in her favorite designs and colors. Her favorite cardigans and pullover sweaters that keep her warm during fall and winter were made by Toji because he wanted to try making outerwear. Luckily it worked in his favor. Tsumiki asked Toji if he could make her a tote bag because she needed a bag for outings. She comes home from school one day to see three of them in different sizes. She has those cute little flower keychains on her school bag and outing bags too because she asked Papa Toji for them. The massive white and blue circle rug in her room is from Toji.

Megumi’s winter scarf, earmuffs, and hat are made by Toji too. Megumi will never admit it out loud but he appreciates that Toji made it for him. They keep him and he doesn’t feel the wind chills nipping at his face. Megumi also appreciates his dad for making his stuffed animals. I’m projecting here but Toji made a set of plush stuffed animals after his shadows. His divine dogs, all of them. Megumi keeps them on his stuffed animal net in the top corner above his bed. Megumi wears a jacket and hoodie made by Toji all year round because of how versatile they are. In general, they’re Megumi’s favorite clothes to wear too.

Thinking about asking Toji to make a present for Nobara and Yuuji on their birthdays. You asked Nobara what her favorite color and style was while Yuuji said he wanted a new hoodie. Toji makes them pretty fast and the two are in love with their gifts. Nobara is wearing her bag EVERYWHERE, and I mean, EVERYWHERE she goes. Yuuji, like Megumi, ends up loving his hoodie that you always see him wear when he’s in casual clothes. Since Nanako and Mimiko grew up with Megumi and Tsumiki, one of Nanako’s cardigans and a pair of her socks are made by Toji while Mimiko only has a random plushie Toji made for her when she was younger because Suguru had to clean the other one.

Not me thinking about how Tsumiki, Megumi, and Mayumi(JJK OC) baby blankets are handmade by Toji himself with their own individual design and patterns. Megumi and Tsumiki’s are still in good condition even though they were lovingly used by the two throughout their whole life. Their baby hats, socks, and certain outfits were all made by him. He keeps them all in individual boxes to not lose them. Gets sentimental and nostalgic that you catch him staring as he holds the small clothes in his big hands. Reminiscing about Megumi and Tsumiki being babies and small children, now realizing that they are growing up before his eyes.

God, all of it is thoroughly well knitted and crocheted that people thought you bought it from a store. “No, actually my husband made it for me. Isn’t he skillful and amazing?” Your friends and co-workers lowkey ask you if Toji is willing to take commissions for them. They’ll pay for it obviously but they want good quality home-made items Toji makes which gives you an idea. You asked Toji if he considered making orders for other people besides his family. He did think about it but he said he would get overwhelmed when receiving orders and packing them up. You asked him if dealing with the orders and packaging them would help him change his mind. So you unintentionally set up a small business with Toji. His shop consists of blankets, bags and baskets of any kind, pot holders, rugs, coverings, and pillows. It runs where one week is for receiving orders, one month is for making them, and another month to send them out. Making a spreadsheet/list for Toji to show what he needs to make. Probably gets finished with all the orders in two weeks or something.

For some reason, Toji wears eye-glasses when he knits and crochets. You don’t know why but it makes him more handsome that your brain rots/short circuits every time you see him working away. He got you all flustered and down bad it’s insane(but absolutely valid). But you don’t understand why he would need them since he already has better vision and eye-sight than 99% of the population.

“Honey, since when do you need glasses?”

“I need it so I don’t strain my eyes when working on them?”

“Can you, like, squint? You already have 20/10 vision. You don’t need glasses when you have superhuman vision, Baby.”

“Doll, just because I have good eye-sight doesn’t mean my eyes aren’t as sensitive. My eyes are still bugged by light, shit hurts and gives me headaches. Anyway, can you pass me the blue yarn in front of ya?”

Megumi and Tsumiki always see you with their Toji. You’re chilling and minding your own business with their baby sister napping away while Toji is working away at a rug because he is bored. Even though he’s been doing this since they were young, the two still can’t get over how their dad can make a king-sized blanket(start to finish) in four hours. Or when they come home from school and see Toji finishing up on a big and long green dragon, turning to Megumi and Tsumiki asking them, “Do you two think your mom would like this?” Or they could be chilling then Toji asks them to try on the projects he finished to see how they look. Tsumiki and Megumi are his main critics, you are too but you aren’t bothered by certain details to criticize Toji’s projects so he leaves it to the kids.

Mayumi(JJK OC) is chilling by Toji as he’s working away, either sleeping away or playing with her stuffed animals close within sight. Being the three year old she is, she sometimes hides underneath the unfinished blankets and pops up from under to surprise Toji. Papa Toji gives his iconic DILF chuckle that has you GEEKING and GIGGLING like a damn school girl when you get the chance to hear it every time. He just pats her head, calling her a little rascal or princess, then resumes.

I’m projecting once again but you know those cute crochet dolls? Like the ones with the big black eyes, big head, small body, and no mouth? Toji made those of the entire family. There’s one of himself in his iconic black compression shirt, white sweatpants, and kung fu slippers. He added a little scar too where his mouth would be. Then there is your’s, all pretty and pristine with your iconic outfit. Toji getting your colors and features down to the bone. Next is Megumi and Tsumiki, literal carbon copies of their real versions. Toji said Megumi’s hair was the hardest part to make lol. Then Mayumi’s doll is later added once she’s born. The mini Fushiguro Doll set sits on the top shelf of a pristine black display case, next to the tv, in the family room.

He’s the type of guy you wouldn’t expect to be good at a skill like this then later found out he’s an absolute master and god among men. Toji doesn’t parade around craftsmanship because he knows how some guys have fragile egos. But he won’t shy away when people ask him about his work. Pulls out his phone to show people the things he made with two needles, one crochet hook, and a shit load of yarn.

Satoru, being the shitter he is, tries to tease and bully Toji about it. To which you reprimand and scold him for it. But Toji doesn’t care about dealing with his antics because it’s a practical skill and keeps him out of trouble. Then you remind Satoru that his winter scarf he always wears was made, the one you gifted him for his 18th birthday, was made by Toji at your request. Satoru never wore any scarf because he thought you made it for him. But for you to tell him Toji actually made it for him, Satoru shuts himself up and doesn’t shit on Toji anymore.

Toji loves it when his family uses/wears the things that he made. Usually wears a goofy smile or grin on his face to conceal his prideful yet satisfied self, knowing his creations are appreciated and loved by his family.

Tag List:

@luqueam @ploylulla @tqd4455 @wolywolymoley @captainbabybear @ravenswife

Tag List(@ w/ no links):

@szillx @g0th1xac1d @SleppyAnn @kneelarhmstrung

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