#rori's writing

[ittlebug]

hey— you— yes, you— you’re allowed to curse when you’re regressed. you’re allowed to be angry. be sad. not want to be touched. not want to be around anyone but yourself. regression is a scary thing, it’s a trauma response, it’s a medical symptom— it’s a bunch of things. and it can be scary. how you act when regressed is not a reflection of you being a ‘bad’ person but more so a reflection of the wrong you have suffered at the hands of others and the trauma that you’ve survived. im proud of you. your regression doesn’t have to be fun. for some of us, it isn’t. sometimes it’s just scary. sometimes it comes when you’re walking home in the rain and you’re scared and wet and all you want is to get under your blankets and fall asleep but your house is blocks away and walking feels heavy. it’s okay. it’s okay. i promise.

[rory-cakes]

Broken Wings

TW: pregnancy, death by child birth, death, slight description of blood.

AN: This is part 2 to Alastor's Birdy

What had he done?

He couldn’t face her even in death?

What did he do that was so horrible that he couldn’t even see his wife?

His birdy?

Those questions ran through Charlie’s head as she and Vaggie walked through heaven. After the startling news of Alastor’s angel wife settled in, things at the hotel got really crazy. They were attacked, she argued with her dad, Alastor saved the day and kicked out Mimzy (lil bitch), and she reconnected with her father and got a meeting with heaven. 

Charlie had realized this would probably be Alastor’s only chance to see his wife since they both had died. So she offered for him to go with them. She hadn't expected him to say no.

“That’s quite alright, my dear, I am undeserving of her. I was blessed with her during my life. I will not curse her in death.”

This brings Charlie back to…

What did he do?

The pain in his hand was unbearable, but he didn’t say anything. After all, how could he complain about her squeezing his hand when she was working so hard on giving birth to their child?

Their child. 

Alastor never saw himself as a father. Not until he married her, and it became all he could think about. If more people were like his wife, the would be a more beautiful place. 

“AAAGGGHHH!!” his birdy screamed as she made the final push. 

“WAAAAHHHH!”

Alastor felt himself breathe again, but only for a moment.

It had all gone by so fast. 

The doctors noticed something wrong.

The blood wasn’t stopping and coming out too fast. 

The monitor spiked. 

He was rushed out of the room, holding his new baby girl.

She had wanted the child’s name to be Eudora if it was a girl and Galdur if it was a boy.

Hearing the yelling of several people. 

CLEAR

Then, the flat line. 

One life had been traded for another. 

The lights were off.

And the child… 

No, Eudora would never get to know the love of the woman who had touched his cold, bitter heart. Eudora would never get to hear the angelic voice of his birdy. 

They would pay…

part 3

[hydrachop]

neovenator, my most fleshed out figura avatar yet, with 60+ animations for just about every state a player can be in. 6 action wheel animations as well, not shown in the video, three of which play randomly while idle. though its supposed to be a neovenator it can most certainly be retextured and modeled to fit any medium-sized theropod :)

utilizes gsanimblend, jimmyanims, squishyapi, runlater, and soggyscript

download coming after some polishing!

[mqrianos]

jess mariano and rory gilmore are literally the SAME people at their core, just in opposite fonts. they MIRROR each other and are each other's TWIN FLAMES. that's exactly why they understand each other better than everyone else (asp herself said so). both are raised by teen moms and have deadbeat dads. yet, one is nurtured with love and care with a mom like lorelai. and the other is abandoned & ignored by a flaky mom like liz. both develop an immense love for reading regardless of whether it became kind of a coping mechanism. both exceed normal expectations of intelligence required for their age. hence, one goes above and beyond, strives for perfection with it, and craves validation while the other could not care less what people think and says "fuck it. rules don't matter anymore for me. i know stuff". one becomes stars hollow's princess, held onto a pedestal by everyone around her. the other becomes stars hollow's pariah, hated by every person he meets. both are under intense scrutiny by people where one is held to exceptionally high standards and the other is seen as "good for nothing". both of them break out of those respective moulds as soon as they become young adults. and both play a pivotal role in helping each other break out of those moulds and still be true to their inner selfs. I COULD WRITE AN ENTIRE TEN-PAGE ESSAY ON THE PARALLELS BETWEEN THEM....I REALLY COULD!

[the-overreactress]

I've been into a lot of contrapuntal poetry lately, so I thought I'd try my hand at it. This one features my favorite ship of all time, literati <3

[nevvdrinksteaa]

history // charlie walker

~~

pairing: charlie walker x reader

original prompt: you’re paired with charlie walker for a school project, it gets dirty

warnings: 18+ nsfw smut, porn WITH plot, afab!reader, slight angst (charlie thinks you hate him for like 5 whole minutes) pet names, oral (male and female), dom!reader, sub!charlie, begging, making out, fingering, whatever the fuck it’s called when you grind against sheets to make yourself c*m, overuse of the nickname ‘char’, never written for dom!reader before (bare w me), no specific reference to body type !! please let me know if i forgot anything!

word count: 3.1k

this is NOT proof read so if there are any mistakes ignore them! i believe that anyone of any shape or size and anyone of color can enjoy this. i don’t believe there is any description of physical appearance (please please correct me if i’m wrong, i don’t want to make assumptions about anything!!)

please send in more stuff for me to write because i’m in the mood to zoom 🫡

~~~

1:40 PM

you sat in history, your last period class, shaking your pencil hearing it tap, tap, tap with every move. eyes trained on the clock wishing the last twenty minutes would fly by quicker, eager to get your weekend started.

“for this project, you are all going to be in partners”

everyone shot up from their bored positions at their desks, starting conversations with friends deciding who’s working with who. you look over at your best friend, grinning.

“settle down, your partners were pre-chosen. i think we need some variety in the groups we see”

the class started to groan as the teacher stated that the partner lists were posted on the board, stating specifics on the projects and that it will be due on monday. everyone started to get up from their seats to check the list on the corkboard at the front of the room. you started to write down ideas, assuming your partner would find you.

of course it’s due monday, there goes my weekend. what’s the point of your parents going out of town if-

“uhm hey, i think we’re partners”

you look up, noticing charlie walker standing at the front of your desk, looking at the floor in front of him.

“you think or you checked the list and know?” you smirk at him, giggling to yourself.

“you got me there, i saw it on the list” he states, settling in the chair beside you.

he started rambling, talking about ideas he has for the project.

“okay charlie, here's the deal” you state bluntly, “my parents aren’t home for the weekend and i really want to get this project finished as soon as possible so i can have friends over on saturday”

he was taken back at your tone, shocked at the rude nature. he figured you didn’t like him, and wanted to get it over as soon as possible so you didn’t have to be seen with him. why else were you so angry when you had always been so sweet to everyone? weren’t you two friends?

“well we can do it after school and work on it today, i’m good at history so we should finish it really soon” he says quietly, trailing off towards the end.

“perfect” you say, grabbing your phone and handing it to the boy. “give me your number and i can text you my address”

the final bell rings and the class starts to gather their things. you sit up from your spot at the desk, collecting your books to leave. “i’ll shower when i get home and you can come over after, does three work?”

“sounds good.” he doesn’t look up from the desk as he’s still writing down notes.

“see you later, char” you say, giving him a smile he doesn’t notice.

walking back to your locker, you catch yourself thinking about him and how awkward he is, finding it indearing. you were excited to work on your project with him, you had a crush on him for a while and you hadn’t had any courage to say anything to him.

you grab your things and start the trek to your car, stopping your friend to tell her about your plans for today on your way out.

“the universe is giving you signs partnering you up with charlie, maybe it’s time to tell him about your crush.” she says, shoving her shoulder into yours as she walks.

“yeah right, he’s so infatuated with kirby i would just embarrass myself if i told him i liked him.” you state rolling your eyes. “he’d laugh in my face probably”

“he’s too sweet to do all that” your friend says stopping once you reach her car, “charlie walker is probably not the type of person to be rude about letting someone down, he’d probably say thank you and talk about a movie that’s about to come out”

she unlocks her car as you laugh at her joke, trying to ease the nerves in your stomach. you wave goodbye and turn to leave, hearing your friend shout out her window “don’t do anything i wouldn’t do”

you laugh as you walk to your car, sitting in the drivers seat and starting it before heading home.

maybe she’s right, i should just say something.

~~~

you wipe the steam off of the bathroom mirror after stepping out of the shower, skin red from the burning shower you took. you start to pat your damp skin dry before you heard a knock on your door. checking the time to see it was 2:45. fuck, he’s early.

you wrap yourself with the towel tightly before you start down the steps to answer the front door.

“hey” charlie starts, face starting to get beat red after noticing you in a towel. you notice him start to fidget with his hands.

“you’re early char” you say opening the door wider and waving him in. “you can wait in my room while i get dressed, it’s upstairs next to the bathroom”

you both start to walk up the steps and you point to the right when you get to the top. “it’s on the door on the left, get comfortable and i’ll be right there”

you hear charlie hum and grip the strap on his bag before he turns to your room. you step into the bathroom and finish getting dressed, drying your skin and putting on comfortable shorts and a crop top. you head back to your room and stand in the doorway, noticing charlie with his back to the door, looking at the pictures and vinyls hung on your walls.

“you’re not going to steal anything, are you?” you tease, sitting on the middle of your bed with your bag, pulling out your history books.

“of course not” charlie says, “just looking at all your stuff”

he takes a seat across from you, where he had preset his books and notes from class. you grab your phone and turn on some music, asking if the choice was okay and a hum of approval in response.

“so, where should we start?” you ask.

~~~

you guys worked on your project for about an hour before you heard your stomach growl. you drop your pencil and look up at charlie who was scribbling away. “are you hungry, char?” you ask

he hummed no at your question and you started to get anxious at his lack of response, he normally would talk your ear off about anything and everything. “is everything okay?”

“yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“you’re just really quiet today, i wanted to make sure everything is alright with you.”

“i just want to finish this project so i’ll get out of your hair, i know that you don’t really want me around”

his response caught you very off guard. you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, shaking your head back and forth softly. “what are you talking about?”

he shrugged his shoulders, not looking up from his lap.

“char, look at me” he looked up at you, trying hard to keep eye contact. “why would you think that?”

“you said earlier you wanted to get the project over with so you could make other plans this weekend.”

you noticed him look back towards his lap and you were confused on what he was talking about

“i figured since you don’t like me, you wanted to get rid of me quicker”

your eyes softened, realizing you didn’t phrase your comment from earlier properly. you immediately felt bad, you never wanted him to think that you didn’t like him. you liked charlie, quite a bit actually. he was very smart, charismatic, and oh so sweet; you couldn’t believe he thought you hated him.

you scooted closer to him, setting his hand on his knee. he looked up towards you with a nervous expression.

“i don’t hate you, i’m so sorry that i made you think i did. i was just upset earlier that we were given a weekend project the same week my parents were out of town” you gave his leg a little squeeze

“oh” he replied, holding eye contact with you. “now i feel stupid”

“don’t feel stupid, it was all my fault. i’ll hang out with you all weekend just to prove to you i like you.” you paused, wanting to say something more. you took your hand off his knee and put it in your lap, looking at the ground, you took in a deep breath.

“actually char,” you start to trail off, feeling the nerves all the way down to your toes. “i really like you”

“what?” you felt the bed move, charlie shifting in his seat

“i don’t expect you to feel the same, i know you have a crush on kirby, robbie told me a while ago, i just felt like i needed to tell you before i lost the courage to”

charlie didn’t say anything, he felt so dumbfounded by your sudden release. he didn’t know what to say, he liked you to, he just never knew how to express it. he liked how kind you were to everyone and how you always loved to listen about everything he has to say.

you got up from your seat quick, anxiety crashing at his silence. “i’m so sorry, just forget i said anything. i’m going to grab a water” you state, heading towards the door

“wait” you heard him get up from the bed and head towards you, “do you mean it?”

you make eye contact, “of course i mean it, i wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true char”

he stood directly in front of you, “i like you too”

neither of you said anything after that, all that could be heard was both of your breaths and the quiet sound of radiohead coming from your phone. he looked between your eyes and your lips.

“do you want to kiss me charlie?”

“yes” he says softly

you felt his lips on yours, pecking slightly. he was so nervous, you knew you had to lead

“do you want to make out with me?”

“please” he nodded quick, looking back to your lips.

you lean forward to kiss him, hands moving up to the back of his neck. you could feel his hands on your hips, barely making contact. you slightly pull away, catching your breath.

“please touch me char”

you felt him grab your waist, pulling you back to his lips. you rake your fingers through his hair, pulling at the root slightly. he whimpered at the feeling, gripping your sides harder.

you started to walk the both of you slowly toward the bed, not breaking away from the kiss. you settled into his lap, feeling his hands glued in place.

“you can touch me anywhere” you say breathless, pulling away

“i’ve never done this before” he admits shamefully

“we can do whatever you feel comfortable with.” you reply, playing with his hair.

you felt one of charlie’s hands leave your hip, slowly heading towards your chest. he let out a breath when he felt you weren’t wearing a bra. he was gentle with his touch, as though he was scared to break you. your hand found his and pressed harder, encouraging his movements.

he started to kneed his hands, rubbing his thumb back and forth over your nipple. you let out a soft moan, pushing your lips back to his. you started to grind your hips back and forth, earning a breathy sound from his mouth. he opened his eyes to look up at you and you took the opportunity to bite the bottom of his lip, moving immediately to his neck, rubbing his cock with your hands.

“is this okay baby?”

“fuck- yes please”

you start biting and kissing the skin below his ear, moving your hands to start unbuttoning his shirt. he shrugs it off his shoulders and you start to make your way down to kneel on the floor, kissing and sucking his skin on your way. you look up at him as you fumble with his zipper, batting your eyelashes at him. he sits up slowly to help pull his pants down, taking his underwear with him. he sets his hands on either side of his legs, slightly gripping the sheets with nerves.

you take his dick in your hands, shocked at the size, before spitting on it. you rub your hands up and down earning a moan from charlie.

“fuck- please i-” he trailed off when you kissed the head, tasting salt on your lips.

“please what baby?” still stroking his cock

“i need more, i want more please”

you lick a long strip from his balls to the tip before putting him in your mouth. slowing going up and down using your hands to help with what you can’t fit. you grab charlie’s hand, moving it from his side to the top of your head. he laces his fingers in your hair, slightly pushing and pulling with your movements.

“i think i’m going to cum”

you pull off, stroking him quick with your hands, “are you going to cum in my mouth char? be a good boy and cum in my mouth for me”

he nodded, eyes shut tight as his head leaned back. “say it charlie, tell me”

he opened his eyes, locked with yours. wiping a tear from your face, so fucking pretty.

“i’m gonna cum for you like a good boy fuck-”

you went right back to work, taking him deeper and blinking the tears from your eyes. you wanted to see charlie cum so bad, you felt your hands move down inside your shorts. rubbing your clit over your panties.

“fuck, i’m cumming, please let me cum. wanna be good for you”

you moaned around his dick and felt charlie grip your hair harder. his dick started to twitch and you felt your mouth get hot, cum filling your throat and mouth. you pulled off slowly, swallowing as you went, keeping your mouth open to pump the rest of his cum on your tounge.

charlie was a rambling, moaning mess. whispering how good it felt and how good you were. he saw you give his dick one last kiss and come back up to meet him face to face.

“thank you”

you gave him a quick kiss, giggling. “you don’t have to say thank you”

he wanted to say it a hundred times over, he couldn’t believe that he just got head for the first time. “can i…” he trailed off

“can you do what char?” you sounded so innocent, like you didn’t just finish choking and gagging on his dick.

“can i do you now?”

you got close to him, kissing up his neck. “you want to eat me out baby?”

“yes, please. please let me make you feel good”

you nodded and stood up from your seat next to him, pushing your notes to the bottom half of the bed. you slipped your top off and pushed your pants down your legs, getting comfortable by your pillows. “come here char”

charlie was quick to move above you, taking your lips to his, touching anywhere his hands could move.

“i might need some help” he sighs sheepishly.

“start by moving all the way down” you say as you give him a quick kiss for encouragement. “do whatever you think is right, i’ll tell you if i don’t like it”

he nodded and moved to your neck, kissing and licking, keeping his hands roaming. you felt him reach your nipples, his hot breath close before sticking his touch out to lick one. he saw your lips open to let out a quiet gasp of air and started to suck, earning a moan in response. he moved his hand, pinching and pulling at the left while he kept his mouth at the right, then switching.

“just like that pretty boy” you said as you move your hand to play with his hair.

he was blushing at the pet name, feeling his cock getting hard against your hip. he started to move down, kissing anywhere and everywhere he could, scared you’ll change your mind. he makes it past your stomach and to your thighs, gently pulling them apart.

he lets out a subtle groan, “so pretty” he mumbles. “can i touch you?” he says rubbing his hands up and down your thighs.

“of course” you sigh, anxiously waiting for his touch

he slowly brings his hands to your pussy, collecting your wetness on his fingers and spreading it around. he finds your clit and starts to rub in small, slow circles, watching you raise your hips slightly.

“right there baby” you say closing your eyes.

he brings his mouth to your pussy, licking a long strip from your hole to your clit. “you taste so good” he says lowly, almost to himself. he continues to play with your clit and eat you out. trying different rhythms and motions based on your movements and sounds.

“char, please put a finger in. i’m so close”

charlie is quick to push in and up, finding that sweet spot. you grab his hair, pulling at the root.

“fuck yes, right there”

he can’t help it, all the mumbling and moaning makes him start to grind into the bed, intoxicated by you. he can feel his cock, hard and throbbing against your silk green sheats.

he slowly slides in a second finger, curling them upwards, taking your clit between his lips and sucking softly.

“i’m gonna cum” you felt your body start to feel fuzzy, stomach pulling at the feeling. “fuck charlie, i’m cumming”

you felt yourself tighten against his fingers, grinding down on his tongue, which was eager to lap up your release. you heard him whimper, seeing his hips stutter against the bed.

he pulls his head up from your pussy, making sure to not look at you in the face. “i’m so sorry”

you look at him confused, leaning forward to see the wet spot on your sheets. you smirk at him, grabbing his hand and licking your juices off his fingers.

“don’t be sorry, this was amazing,” you lean forward to kiss him “and knowing you came from eating me out is kinda hot”

you giggle as you lean back, still catching your breath. charlie moves beside you softly rubbing your hand. “so what do we do now?”

you look up at him, “well” you start lacing your fingers with his “for now, we lay here until we fall asleep. then tomorrow morning we’ll wake up and shower and maybe finish where we left off”

charlie grins from ear to ear, “oh yeah?”

“i mean, if that’s alright with you” you mumble

“being with you is alright for me” he says, kissing your forehead.

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

Why Did You Drop Out Of Yale? → You Should Write About You And Your Mom

[bratbarzal]

On My Side (NH13)

Pairing: Nico "I think the hockey gods were on my side" Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy

WC: 6k

part of the On Your Side universe

*This is a bonus chapter set after the ending of the overall fic, and can be read as a standalone if you haven't read the fic, but if you want to understand their dynamic and Poppy's personality a little more, you should!!!

Description: 18+ MDNI, Nico comes home to Poppy after scoring his first ever career hat-trick for the Devils. Way more fluff than smut but Nico is down bad as always.

A/N: You're all a bunch of enablers and that's all I have to say on the matter!!! Hope this fills the void while I continue to struggle with chapter ten lmao there is mention of Baby Cheeto in here but no spoilers for her name. Nico calls her Bug as a nickname, like _____-Bug, Chäferli (little bug) or just Bug for short, but it isn't her actual name. I can't use Cheeto forever lmao. I was literally trying to think of a title and remembered he said the words "on my side" WHAT IF I TOLD YOU HE'S A MASTERMIND he's an oys!truther if I ever saw one! Painfully obsessed with Poppy if you ask me. Also the way Cheeto would rock the heck out of this it's so cute I had to share

Nico Hischier likes to think he’s a patient man.

Finally scoring his first career hat-trick after 8 years in the NHL, after 476 games played with the Devils, would be the ultimate testament to that.

Doing so in the first ever game with his daughter in attendance - on home turf, his mother and Poppy holding her up in the family suite during warm-ups in her little Devils teddy sleeper that he can only just make out from down on the ice, but has his rampant heart beating out of his chest all the same - has him thinking that maybe, after all those years, after all those games, the stars had been aligning for him the whole time. 

And it was that sort of patience he had tried to tune into since the end of the second period, when he knew Poppy had left early to try skip traffic and get their little girl home safe for bed.

It’s what he tries to channel in the aftermath of the game, swarmed by reporters in the locker room, trying to remain polite and professional, not rushing them through their questions or giving half-assed answers - knowing he owes a lot more than that to the organisation that has allowed him to get this far. Trying to save just a speck of energy to give when he finally gets home, collapsing into the warm embrace of the girls he knows are waiting patiently for him.

It’s what he holds onto when he has to take a detour on his way home, dropping his mom off at her hotel and trying not to visibly squirm in his seat as she regales him with stories of how his daughter had captured the hearts of everyone she encountered, swallowing down the slight jealousy that he hadn’t been there to see it and clinging to the fact that he had his own success elsewhere in the night - success that played second fiddle in his own mother’s eyes to the experience of sharing her granddaughter’s first ever game with her, an experience he had to endure twice as she called his father from his car, deep chuckles ringing through the speakers as he tried to get a word in edge ways beyond her excitement.

It’s what has him shaking with anticipation as he almost skips down the hall to their apartment, mustering up the rest of his energy to walk into their home without the weight of the world on his shoulders, leaving any doubt, any insecurity, any lingering self-deprecation at the door so he can bask in this moment with the two hearts that are shaped entirely to fit him into them.

And it’s what has him shaking off whatever disappointment tries to creep in when he sees his little girl asleep in Poppy’s arms, knowing whatever tiny part of her he will ever get will always be enough - even if her big, glassy eyes aren’t looking up at him, even if he doesn’t come home to one of those heart-stopping beaming smiles she has started to give to him whenever he enters the room - her being here, sleeping safely in the arms of her beautiful mother, and him getting to come home to whatever version of them he can, is more than he could ever ask for.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the hat-trick hero.” Poppy’s soft voice carries to him as he makes his way over, dropping his bag on the floor and keys on the counter, heading straight to where she is now standing and pressing a kiss to her waiting lips. “Hi, handsome.”

“She didn’t wanna say goodnight to her daddy, huh?” He tries not to sound too dejected - he’s supposed to be on a high, after all - but after half an hour of his mother unintentionally bragging about all the attention she had been giving to her Gromi all night, he can’t help the slight sag of his shoulders - especially knowing that she’s going to be spending the morning with his mom tomorrow, too.

“Sorry, baby, we watched a little of you on the TV and then she got hangry,” Nico finds himself hypnotised by her still figure, enamoured with the way she exudes sheer calmness. The smile that creeps up on his lips seems to do so by muscle memory - a dopey kind of smile he’s probably had plastered on his face since she came into the world kicking and screaming 2 months ago, a smile permanently etched into his features from probably even before that. “I promise I tried to keep her up, she literally fell asleep on my boob.” Poppy whispers, watching with warm, glittery eyes as Nico takes in the sight of his two favourite people in front of him - Poppy already changed into one of his shirts, settled for the night, and his baby girl all cosy in her little teddy bear onesie, pacifier bobbing between her plush little lips.

“Look at her hat,” he pouts, running a finger along the folded seam of the way-too-big beanie Poppy has perched on top of her head, the knit fabric falling just short of her closed eyes. “That’s adorable.”

“Your mom put it on her before we left,” Poppy chuckles lightly, “Wanted to keep it on until you got home, we had to celebrate the hatty properly.” Her brows raise as if gesturing to the bill of the cap on her own head, one of his, he’s sure - no doubt stolen from their closet as soon as she got home.

“My little good luck charm,” he leans down to press a kiss to her cheek before he lifts himself back up and bends toward Poppy, “Gonna have to start coming to all the games.”

“I’ll let you break the news to her when she wakes up,” she hums as he presses his lips to hers, “She has a very low tolerance for everybody telling her to smile and getting all up in her space, been grouchy all night.”

“Just like Mami, huh, bug?”

“Oh, you think you’ve got jokes now?” Poppy scoffs as she steps back, ready to take their daughter to bed.  “Score your first hatty and you think you’re funny?”

“Always been funny, babe,” he smirks, flicking at the cap sat on her head before he takes it off, flipping it to place on top of his own and following her down the hall. “I’ll prove it to you when I get her first laugh.”

“She’ll be laughing at you, not with you.”

“Better than nothing.”

Nico sits on the edge of their bed as Poppy reaches into the crib to retrieve the sleeping bag in there before she lays it down beside him. He does the work unzipping and readying it for her to place their daughter inside while she rocks her still-sleeping body, and the two of them work in tandem to get her inside before zipping her back up, with Nico softly pulling the beanie from her head and watching her fluffy hair fan out in its absence. 

He runs a gentle hand over her head to smooth it down as Poppy lifts her, and leans into where she offers her up for a kiss before she puts her in the crib. Nico watches with a soft smile etched into his features, the familiarity of it all spreading warmth throughout his chest, his favourite part of every day being this - sharing a goodnight routine in the comfortable quiet, the two loves of his life safe and happy within arms reach.

None of it feels new or daunting anymore, just easy - and despite the constant warnings of it not always being this way, Nico just wants to feel it to its fullest extent; sheer happiness and serenity. 

Poppy returns to the front of him, and he instinctively spreads his legs to accommodate her, palms laying flat against his chest and his hands falling to her hips. She just looks at him for a good few seconds, eyes shimmering with admiration, lips tugged between teeth and a head tilted as her expression flickers into something more intense. 

Her hands travel down his arms, wordlessly, until she grasps at his wrists and pulls him to stand, leaning up to press a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth. “C’mon,” she whispers while her lips are still against his skin, “Wanna celebrate you.”

As if getting to come home to her isn’t celebration enough.

He follows her back through the hall with their hands clasped together, arms stretched between them so he can watch the hem of his shirt ride up against the backs of her soft thighs, and he starts to feel his throat go dry.

He thinks of all those mornings they would spend in the kitchen together in the summer, his shirts a little tighter around her pregnant belly, riding up against her curves and leaving very little to the imagination when she’d wear just his t-shirt and nothing else.

She’s wearing panties now, he can tell, could see the bottom of them peaking out when she’d leaned over to put their daughter in her crib. But he doesn’t mind inching them off, quite likes the slow pace of unwrapping her like a gift - a well-deserved present for all his hard efforts on the ice.

It’s where his fingers find themselves almost immediately when she stops just short of the couch, spinning and practically launching herself into his waiting arms. He can’t help but chuckle as they collide, large arms wrapping around her frame as she melts into him, hands gripping either side of his jaw to pull him down in a clash of teeth and tongues. He palms at her ass as she presses her hips forward, fingers slipping under the hem of her panties and wriggling under them until his knuckles are covered by the fabric, squeezing at the flesh until she groans into his open mouth. 

He feels deft fingers working between them to rid him of his own clothes, clumsily popping open the buttons of his jacket before working their way up his chest, slipping into the arms and helping him shrug it off. The weight of it drops to the floor with a heavy thud, and when her hands return to his chest for the next item of clothing to be removed, she pushes him back with an exaggerated huff.

“Baby, how many layers do you need?”

“You in some kind of rush, or something?” He chuckles, chasing her lips with a crane of his neck, getting a quick kiss in before she pushes him back again with palms laid flat on his broad chest.

“Your daughter has some sort of radar for when we’re within 2 inches of each other,” she says as her hands slide down, the feel of them through the extra layers he has on still present as she travels past the hard ridges of his abdomen. She grasps tight at the bottom of his hoody, and he lends a hand to tugging it up and over his head, throwing that to the floor, too. “We gotta get a move on before she wakes up,”

“My daughter?” He scoffs, removing his undershirt while she’s distracted, relishing the feeling of a heavy gaze on his chest once it’s fully revealed to her hungry eyes. “She’s really given you such a hard time that you’re disowning her?”

“She isn’t letting me have a hard time at all, that’s the problem.” Her hands reach back out seemingly of their own volition, fingers fanning out across his skin as her stare glides down, the weight of it sliding down his skin to the point he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. 

“That was weak for you.” He teases.

“I’m out of practice,” she pouts, closing the distance once more and pressing her lips to the slightly stubbled skin of his jaw, nipping at the flesh as her ministrations travel across his features, his jaw, his neck, the spot just below his ear, where she mutters, “Wanna show you how proud I am of you,”

“Oh yeah?” He asks as she works at the button of his pants, pushing until they pool at his feet and he can kick them off.

“Mmhm,” she moves her kisses back to his waiting lips, “Been waiting to get my hands on you all night.”

“Been waiting to get my hands on you all day,” he mutters back, bending to lift her with hands gripping her ass, “Been thinking about you teasing me in the kitchen this morning,” he starts heading for the couch, mind spinning as she continues kissing him - thinking of all the plans she had been making for the two of them while his mom takes Little Bug out in the morning, finally giving them some much needed, uninterrupted time to themselves. Plans of wasting the morning away between the sheets, sharing showers, having no responsibilities other than paying attention to one another. “Thinking about having you all to myself tomorrow."

“You gonna let me give you a preview?” 

He chuckles as he falls back onto the couch, all grace thrown out the window as they sink into the cushions, her still holding onto him and now straddling his lap, lips stretched into a blissful smile as he looks up at her.

She presses them straight to his, and he can’t bring himself to mind the way their teeth clash at her eagerness, hips grinding down onto his as she settles onto her knees.

He could spend forever kissing her like this, sensual and sloppy, the slight scratch of her nails against the sides of his neck and his grip on her thighs guiding her movements straight onto the aching growth between his legs.

He bucks up to meet her, and their lips part with a wet smack as she groans. 

"Bet you can’t wait for me to shave, eh?” he smiles as he swipes a thumb across the space between her nose and lip, the skin red raw from the scratch of his moustache.

“You know damn well I’d ban you from ever touching a razor again if I could.” She says, breathlessly, slowly thrusting down onto him.

“Tell that to your little red muzzy, you’re giving Luke a run for his money,”

“Hey,” she swats at his chest in feigned outrage, “The kid tried his best!” 

“No more talk about Hughes when you’re sat on my lap,”

“You brought him up!”

“Thought I was getting a preview,” he groans as he shuffles, reaching between them to slip a hand between her legs, tucking his fingers beneath her panties and swiping against her heat. “Jesus, Poppy.”

“Told you I’ve been thinking about you all night,” she pecks at his lips again, raising her hips a little to give him further access to slide his fingers through the almost excessive wetness that’s near enough soaked through her panties. 

He prods at her entrance, two fingers slipping straight in until she’s gasping against his cheek in sheer bliss. His digits move with ease, working his way up to his knuckles as he drinks up her pleasured moans, his chin tilting until their open mouths just press together without kissing, panting against one another as he works her up. 

He pushes the fabric of his shirt up her thighs with his other hand, exposing his handiwork to hungry eyes so he can see the way she glistens between her legs - can see the way his fingers slide in an out of her.

She takes his shirt off, throwing it beside them on the couch so she can see too, looking down for only a moment before she’s throwing her head back.

He’s so hard just watching her that it’s almost painful - straining against the seams of his briefs until they’re tenting beneath her. And she must notice, nimble fingers working him out until he’s thick and hot and heavy in her palm, gripping around him in with her thumb swiping at his tip, hips shuffling until his fingers slip out of her heat and she can move on her knees to hover above his waiting cock. 

He takes a hold of himself while her hands raise to steady herself on his shoulders, and he waits with bated breath as she lowers herself, sinking past her entrance until he’s sheathed entirely, tight, wet walls wrapped around him in a long-awaited embrace.

Their moans fall out in sync, both of them stilling, the only movements between them being the soft rise and fall of panting chests. 

It’s a minute before she starts to rock her hips, leaning back down to distract herself from whatever unease needs to fade away with the press of her lips to his - tongue swiping at his, sucking and nipping at the muscle as she works herself to the point where she can lift herself up a little.

“Fuck me,” he whines out in an elongated groan as she sinks down on him again, tight and slick and warm, and he feels tension in every cell in his body, strung taut to the point where he feels like he could snap entirely in any given moment.

“I’m working on it,” she pouts, “Think I overestimated my talents here,”

“Think you’re very talented,” he hums, pressing a kiss to her jaw as he lays large hands on the dip of her waist, fingers tickling into the arch of her back so her movements are a little smoother, a little more fluid. “So good to me, yeah? Just need a hand.”

He guides her hips into a steady rhythm - up, down, forward, back - until she’s rocking onto him in a mind numbing pace. 

God, he thinks, this is heaven.

It’s been so long since he’s had her like this. Probably all the way back in Switzerland in the summer, and he thinks a lot about this situation mirrors that - trying to stay quiet, trying to feel as much of each other as they possibly can without drawing attention from sleeping parties one room over. 

He remembers thinking, all those months ago, that it wouldn’t be possible to love Poppy any more than he did, then - that he couldn’t possibly feel more for her than he did when he shared that part of his world, and she had embraced it with open arms. She had blended straight into his family, had adapted herself to his routine, had brought new life and colour to what he had always considered vibrant, anyway, but she had changed the meaning of it all.

But she had done the same to life in Jersey. 

Long gone were any feelings of homesickness he used to get - especially around this time of the year. Fully immersed now into his season, summer seeming too far from his reach that he started to forget what home felt like. But not anymore.

Home is Poppy. Home is their baby girl sleeping soundly in the next room. It’s playing one of the greatest games of his career so far, meeting milestones he had been reaching for for so long, standing in the centre of the arena he has built his career in, hearing the rapturous cheers of fans chanting his name, and driving back knowing the love garnered there could never possibly compare to the love waiting for him in his apartment.

He brings her face down with a palm splayed gently across her jaw, fingers reaching back to tickle at the nape of her neck and thumb swiping tenderly at her soft cheekbone, until their mouths collide. He shifts his hips to meet her ministrations, finding a rhythm that has her gasping into his mouth, enough that his tongue can slip past the seam of her lips and press against hers - hot and fervid and eager.

He wonders as the pressure builds if this passion will ever wither. If this need to profess his love for her will ever wain away, if he’ll ever be casual about the way in which she has become the entire centre of his universe.

He hopes not. 

He hopes when he’s 80, he looks over at her and his heart still hammers in his chest. He hopes his mouth struggles to make sense of all the ways in which his brain tries to convey what she means to him - hopes he still stutters around his sentences and feels weak to the very base of his spine at the mere thought of her. 

In fact, he doesn’t hope at all.

He knows he will.

“You feel so good,” Poppy mutters into his mouth, panting against his swollen lips, “I’ve missed this so much.”

“Yeah?” He thrusts up, “You missed being full of me?”

He’s missed this far out look in her eyes, glassed over and almost gone as she nods in response - they haven’t really been able to get to this stage with their quick fumbles and rushed hookups in the last 2 weeks since she got the all clear from her doctor for them to start being intimate again. Sure, they had developed other methods over those first 6 weeks, making good use of hands and mouths in whatever limited time they could find together, but nothing compares to this.

To being attached at every point like they are one.

“You gonna come for me?”

He still remembers her tells, fluttering lashes, trembling thighs, stuttered breaths all combined with the spine tingling way in which she tightens around him, and he manages to time it so they come together, one final burst of energy used to lift his hips just as she sinks down, body slumping into tremors that wrack through the both of them.

He holds her in place for a second, large hands pushing his shirt up her back as he starts to rub circles into her flesh, soothing her back into a softened consciousness - hazy and frazzled but still in tune with every movement he makes. 

Her nose presses into the expanse of his neck, lips pecking at all the sensitive spots she can seek out as they both try to catch their breaths - and he realises she was probably right before, they haven’t had time like this for a while now. 

Still, he’ll take what he can get.

She lifts her hips just enough for him to slip out, and reaches to the small table at the side of the couch where she has miraculously stashed a pack of baby wipes. She takes two out, using one to clean the both of them before she bundles it into the clean one and discards of it back onto the table to be disposed when she eventually gets the feeling back in her legs.

And it’s as soon as Poppy’s legs give way and she collapses into him that they both hear it - a soft wail carrying through the monitor behind the couch. Cries filling the space around them and bursting their bubble with an almighty pop!

“Told you,” Poppy mumbles into his neck, skin sticky with a soft sheen of sweat. “Won’t even let me get a hatty of my own,”

Nico scoffs, snorting out a loud chuckle that shakes where she rests on his chest, and despite her feigned irritation, she feels her cheeks puff out into a soft, unbreakable grin. “Like you’d have lasted 3 rounds.”

“What happened to me being very talented?” She pouts, mustering whatever strength she has left to push herself up, swinging a leg back over and moving to stand, only for him to grasp back at her, pulling her until her back falls into the plush of the couch.

“Talented, Poppy, not super human,” he chuckles, standing from the cushions and tucking himself back into his briefs. “I’ve got her.”

“It’s probably wind, I changed and fed her before she went down.”

He presses one last kiss to Poppy’s head before heavy feet carry him down the hall toward their bedroom, where their daughter’s crib is temporarily positioned until she starts to sleep a little further through the night. He doesn’t bother flicking the light on as he enters, able to follow his muscle memory straight over to where she is without tripping over his own feet, and he lifts her as soon as he can, cooing at her as she cries into his chest.

“I’ve got you, Chäferli,” he mutters as he rocks her gently, large hand completely encompassing where he can feel her back through her sleeping bag. “Daddy’s here,”

He reaches over to shut off the monitor before he ambles over to his and Poppy’s bed, sitting with his daughter still clutched to his chest, little hiccups coming out as his hand tries to work up her wind. 

“Got yourself all worked up, huh?” He asks, so deep into his routine of talking to her about anything and everything that he no longer second guesses it. “My little bug, you’re okay.”

It takes a good few minutes to calm her down, to the point that Nico thinks she might even be hungry and he’ll have to call Poppy in, wiggling a finger between her lips to see if she latches on, but he continues to pat and rub at her back until she burps, and her cries turn into little coos, that turn into soft pants with wide, sparkling eyes staring up at him in wonder. 

He looks down at her in the same way, dark eyes flitting across her every feature. Across the soft but thick head of hair, the crazy long eyelashes, the puffy lips and the little button nose. 

She looks so much like Poppy that he feels his chest ache every time he looks at her - but it’s a good kind of ache, a longing and content kind of ache, that only aches to remind him of everything he stands to lose if he doesn’t work hard enough to keep it.

“Gromi told me you were charming everybody at daddy’s work,” he tells her with a soft smile, the pad of his finger pressing at the tip of her nose. “Says she’s gonna have to show you off around the city on her own tomorrow.”

Tiny fingers reach up to clasp around his, holding on and clutching with a grip he’s sure wasn’t so firm that morning when he had said his goodbyes. 

“Careful, bug,” he tells her, “You hold Papi’s hand too long and he won’t let you go.”

Wide eyes gleam back at him, and he watches in awe as they start to crinkle in the corners. 

He becomes all too aware of the hammering of his heart, and lays her beside him on the bed in fears that the echoing thud of it beating against his chest might disturb her. He curls up beside her, making sure she’s flat as he gets himself comfortable, and just lays there for a good few minutes, watching her as she watches him.

There isn’t a feeling in the world that compares to this, he thinks. He could score a hundred hat-tricks, have a million people chanting his name, and it won’t come close to how adored he feels in this moment, how proud he feels to have played any part in making a little human so perfect and beautiful.

He leans forward, kissing softly at her puffy cheek, careful not to press too hard that she feels the scratch of his moustache, and he relishes the little squeal of what he hopes is delight she gives in return. 

Poppy gives it 20 minutes before she decides to venture through to their bedroom, having cleaned up and busied herself sterilising bottles so they’re ready for Katja to come pick up in the morning. It’s been a rare occurrence lately that Nico has had his one-on-one time with their daughter, him being so busy with training and their trip to Florida - and he wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t fess up to the ways in which it gets him down, but she knows he feels like he’s missing a lot. 

She changes so much day to day - discovers so much about the world around her - and as much as Poppy tries to save things for him to see on his own, tries to find the balance between sharing the little moments she gets with him and letting him experience them for himself, she knows there’s nothing she can do to keep that nagging voice at bay.

He’s always been that way, unable to completely silence the thoughts that tell him no matter what he does, it isn’t enough. 

He’d even done it tonight - his first career hat-trick, him being the first Swiss-born player to score a natural hat-trick, a stadium filled with fans chanting his name, dominating a team the Devils hadn’t beat at home in close to 10 years - and it hadn’t been his best performance. 

She would gladly spend the rest of her life convincing him he’s good enough, she thinks. 

Her and their little Bug being the ones who get to welcome him home after a night like tonight? She doesn’t know what she did in a past life to get the Gods on her side like this, but she’d do it again a thousand times over.

As her feet pad softly down the hall toward their room, she listens out for the soft voice she usually has the pleasure of eavesdropping on when she thinks he doesn’t know she’s hovering on the other side of the door. A soft voice that tells their little girl exaggerated stories from his day about her uncles, about his games, about whatever he got up to while he was away and what he brought back for her from his travels. But this time, it’s quiet - the peaceful kind of quiet that wraps around her like a blanket, tranquil and warming as she pushes the door open and steps into the room.

Nico is curled up on his side of the bed, on top of the covers, and his arm is draped gently over their daughter’s sleeping bag, their faces inches apart as soft snores fall from their parted lips. She inches closer as quiet as she can manage, leaning over them and taking in their similar profiles - the gentle slope of their mirrored noses, dark lashes framing closed eyes that are turning darker to match her daddy’s day by day.

If anyone had told the Poppy of last November that this is where she would be now - that this is where she’d be with Nico - she never in a million years would have believed it. 

He has transformed her life in such little time that she can barely remember the before. Can barely remember a night she fell asleep in any other bed, by any other side, or woke up to anyone else. Can barely remember feeling anything close to this kind of happiness, this kind of content.

It’s like he’s introduced her to a whole new level of feelings. Ones she struggles to describe, like there’s no word in the English language that could possibly convey what he means to her.

Maybe his language has a word for it. Something that she’s never heard before, but just sounds right. Like she knew it somewhere much deeper than her brain allowed her access. She’ll have to ask him, tomorrow - when they finally have a morning to themselves and she can work up the energy to crawl out from under the sheets with him.

A part of her wishes she could take a snapshot of this moment - could send it back in time to the Poppy who never thought this kind of life would ever find her. The Poppy who was drifting, coasting, floating, afraid of landing on her own two feet and having to drag them for the rest of time through unfamiliar territories. The Poppy who pushed down her ever expanding adoration for the man currently cuddled up to their entire life in the bed they share, who convinced herself he could never possibly feel the same way, and wasted years of her life when she could have had this.

But another part of her thinks, what’s the point?

She has him, now. 

She’ll have him forever.

She allows herself to watch for a minute as they take deep breaths in sync, all the post-game tension in Nico’s body long melted away, before she quietly shuffles over to the bathroom to get herself ready for bed. 

She manages to make her way back over in the dark without stumbling, by some miracle, and reaches over to pick her baby girl up without interrupting her sleep, standing beside her crib and rocking her a little just to make sure she’s still fully drifted off - relishing the feeling of soft puffs of air falling into her neck as she cradles her.

Nico must wake at the loss of contact, instincts kicking in immediately when he can no longer feel the little body that had been resting under his protective arm, and when Poppy looks back over, she can see the reflective glint in his eyes as he watches her - soft and adoring and tooth-achingly sweet. 

Instead of putting her down, she bounces gently on her feet back over to Nico’s side of the bed, sitting beside him as he shuffles up, and the two of them just watch their daughter as she sleeps. 

For all the times they have been warned that this bliss is temporary, that it’s just a phase, Poppy can’t see it ending for as long as Nico looks at her like this. Like he has the entire world sat in front of him. 

“She was smiling at me before,” he whispers as he repositions himself, legs spread so that Poppy can sit between them. “Was trying to get her to calm down, and she was just looking straight at me with those big sparkly eyes and she smiled right at me.”

“She was doing it a little when we got home, earlier.” Poppy whispers back, hoping he doesn’t mind her raining on his parade a little to tell this story, “We just caught your interview on TV after the game, and there was this close up of you, and she smiled so big, Nico. She never smiles like that for anybody.”

“That’s ‘cause you snitch on her and tell everyone it’s gas.”

“I don’t want anyone else thinking they’re special.”

“But I am?” He asks, reaching to swipe the back of his finger softly against her cheek, the soft moonlight sifting into the room reflecting off of the ring on his finger, the quick glimmer enough to catch Poppy’s eye, to distract her so much that she can only hum in response, lips curving into a tender smile. 

“Yeah,” she breathes, the tranquility of the room a stark contrast to the way her heart erupts into thunderous applause for him - akin to that of the stadium full of fans earlier that night. Thousands of voices chanting his name, singing his praises, cheering him on for all the glory he brought to their night. He brings that to Poppy, tenfold, every day. “You’re really special.”

He leans over their sleeping daughter to press a loving kiss to Poppy’s lips, careful not to disturb the little angel between them, and Poppy kisses him straight back, fervent but fleeting.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” she mutters into his mouth, careful not to invest too much of herself into another moment they’ll swiftly get interrupted from. 

“You gonna show me in the morning?” He mumbles back, their lips still touching, noses pressed together, his hand still cradling her face. She nods, and he feels her cheeks round into his palm. “Gonna give me that hatty you promised?”

“Gonna give you whatever you want.”

“Another baby, Frau?”

She scoffs, swallowing down the fizzing feeling at the back of her throat the nickname. 

“Ask me again after your next hat-trick.” 

[thatdesigirl17]

concert

jess mariano x fem!reader

warnings: smoking, suggestive talk, jess and reader being possessive

haven't written in a long time so hope you like this, requests are open!

It was the weekend, the day of the concert for which Y/N had bought tickets for them weeks ago. When she heard they were coming to perform in Hartford, she knew she had to buy those tickets because Jess liked them. 

So they were driving to Hartford in Jess’s car and what Jess could think about was her, he had told her that already ever since he picked her up from your house and saw her outfit, a tight, black, short skirt with a cropped black shirt and heeled boots and to top it off, she wore a leather jacket, his leather jacket that drowned her. It made him go crazy for her, he always liked seeing her in his clothes, and it would always fuel his possessive nature. She loved seeing him like this, trying his best to control himself because of her and she was gonna make this harder for him. 

During the entire ride, he kept stealing glances at her, putting his hand on her thigh and being distracted until she came up with a deal, for him to behave himself and control his desires and she would stay the night at his apartment doing whatever and however he wants, a deal that Jess was more than happy to agree to. 

Jess parks the car right outside the venue as she gets off and waits by the front of the car for him, he walks over to her, a sly smirk on his face as he holds her hips, leaning her against the bonnet of the car. 

‘You made a deal, Jess.’, she says looking up at him, placing her hands on his chest. ‘Yeah and I’m just sealing the deal.’, he says smugly before leaning in and kissing her, his body trapping her against the car, pulling her closer his hands now encircling her waist. She kissed him back instantly her hands snaking up to his shoulders from his chest. He breaks the kiss, both of them breathless, ‘Back to behaving myself.’ 

They enter the stadium, the place packed and buzzing with people. 

‘This place is overly crowded.’, Y/N remarked as they entered. Jess looks around and nods, agreeing with her. It’s even difficult for them to move around without bumping into other people. He keeps a protective hand on her waist, guiding her through the crowd, his possessive nature unrevealing itself. They walk a bit closer to the stage, now surrounded by a mass of people all around them.

‘You alright?’, he asks leaning down, closer to her ear, to be heard from the noise of the crowd. ‘I’m fine.’, she replies nodding. Jess nods, relieved to hear that you're okay despite the crowded conditions. He keeps a close eye on the people around her, making sure no one accidentally bumps into her or tries to get too close. His hand stays firmly on her waist, his touch is possessive and protective. ‘Alright, but let me know if you feel uncomfortable, okay? I can try to make more space for you if you need.’ ‘And how will you even do that?’, she asks sarcastically, knowing that there is really little space for everyone to move around. Jess grins at your question, his eyes lighting up with mischief

‘Oh, I've got a few ideas…’, he shifts his position, moving even closer to her until his body is almost pressed fully against hers. His hand on her waist tightens its grip, pulling her against him even more, his body acting as a shield between her and the rest of the crowd. 'How's this? Comfortable enough for you now?’

‘You know the only thing I can see now is you, right? And we're here to see the band.’, she says, her tone feisty. ‘Like you’d want it any other way.’, he grins, teasing her, leaning towards her ear and whispering, his voice sultry. ‘You’re supposed to behave yourself.’, she says pushing him back slightly so that she can look at him. Jess smirks, looking down at her, his hands roaming up and down her sides, ‘I’m behaving myself…just making sure you’re safe and close to me. Don’t want you bumping into someone, now do we?’ 

She hums along, smirking, knowing exactly how much of a tease Jess can be when he comes to it. She pushes him away and moves slightly so she’s right in front of him, her back against his chest, and then takes his hand and wraps it around his waist, ‘How’s this? I’m all yours to keep safe and I can actually see the band.’ ‘Perfect.’, he smiles, planting a kiss on the side of her neck, pulling her closer to him. 

The place seems to have gotten more crowded in a matter of minutes as the band is about to go on stage. He feels the people around them press closer, the heat and proximity of the confined space only stirring up his possessive nature even more. He keeps her tightly held against his chest, his arms like a vice around her body. He mutters in your ear, his voice a mix of desire and frustration. ‘Damn, it's getting more crowded in here. People need to back off. You alright, Y/N?’ She nods in response, her hands placed on his jacket-clad arms around her waist. 

Jess fishes a cigarette out of his pocket, Y/N looking at him over her shoulder as she feels him move. ‘Needed a smoke to distract me. You're too damn tempting right now.’, he explains, pulling her flush against his chest as he leans forward, his other hand leaving his waist for a moment as he lights the cigarette with her still between his arms, the proximity making her breath hitch. He lights it, taking a deep drag as he tries to calm his frayed nerves. He lets out a plume of smoke, the acrid smell filling the air around them. He returns his other hand firmly to your waist, a possessive gesture. He keeps the cigarette between his lips as he takes another drag, the smoke wafting around them both. She takes the cigarette from his hands as she takes a drag herself, her body relaxing more against him, handing the cigarette back to him.

‘Damn it, you’re making this way harder for me, aren’t you?’, he mutters, looking down at her smoking his cigarette. ‘I would move, but there is no space.’, she smirks, shrugging. Jess's eyes rake over your form, taking in the way you're pressed tightly against him, the closeness making his possessive side even harder to ignore. He mutters under his breath, his voice a bit deeper, ‘Damn, you're right. There's no space here. I can't move, and you're too damn close. It's like I'm being tortured, having you this close but not being able to do everything I want to you. It's driving me crazy.’ She chuckles, her smirk growing wider, as she takes the cigarette from him again, taking another drag. She knew that it turned him on when she smoked and it was just another perk right now. She places her hand a little above her shoulder, for him to take the cigarette, but instead, he leans down, his head almost touching yours as he takes a drag, the cigarette still in her hands. The proximity only made her plan backfire. He takes a deep drag, the smoke swirling around you both before he moves his head back up. ‘You’re a damn tease, Mariano.’, she says looking up at him, her words making him smirk. ‘You’re the one to talk.’, he says smugly as the band finally comes onstage and the crowd breaks into a roaring cheer. 

Jess's head snaps up at the sudden sensation of someone bumping into her, his eyes narrowing as he looks over to see who it is. The possessive nature inside him flares up again, his arms tightening around her waist protectively.

‘Who the hell do these people think they are, bumping into you like that? Goddamn idiots.’, he says her voice irritated. ‘Crowds are so not your scene.’, she chuckles, rubbing his arm to comfort him a bit. He nods still eyeing people around them. ‘Jess, relax, we’re here because you love this band, not to play bodyguard, so enjoy yourself.’, she says laughing. He nods, loosening his grip ever so slightly as the band starts with their first song of the night. The sight of his favourite band starting to play makes a spark of excitement flicker in his eyes, she looks at him, smiling to herself as she sees him excited and happy. 

Jess watched Y/N, a small smile forming on his face, as she swayed to the beat, the sight of her body moving against his making his chest tighten with want, his eyes roaming all over her, as he mouths the word himself, tapping his feet with the rhythm. He leans down, his voice low as he speaks in her ear, his breath hitting against her skin, ‘You’re making this so hard for me. Moving like that when you’re pressed against me.’ 

A smirk forms on her lips, she says, leaning her head on his shoulder so that he can hear her through the loud music, ‘Just having fun.’, she grins as he sighs, her actions affecting him, her eyes flicker onto a group of girls nearby. They look at them, stealing glances, checking out Jess and giving her disgusted looks. She sighs, her possessive side coming out, as she leans in further, kissing his neck. 

‘Y/N…’, he says warningly, his grip on her tightening. She sucks and bites on his neck, leaving a mark on him, claiming him as hers. He inhales sharply, arching his neck to give her more access. She smiles against his skin, kissing his neck, moving upwards towards his jaw, leaving another mark there as well for everyone to see. He smirks and chuckles knowing exactly what she’s doing. ‘Really marking me up, huh?’, he says as she cups his cheek and kisses him, he kisses him back deepening the kiss as the band plays in the background. She breaks the kiss, panting looking up at him, ‘Now they’ll know that all they can do is only look at you.’ 

He smirks, as he looks around to see what she's talking about, ‘Jealous much?’ She rolls her eyes as he grins cockily. ‘Don’t roll your eyes, you were jealous.’, he says his grin widening. ‘Let’s just listen to the music’, she says, narrowing her eyes at him, and turning her attention back to the band. He chuckles as he returns his attention to the band as well. They spend the entire night vibing, dancing and singing along, while Jess also teases Y/N any chance he gets, loving to rile her up.

[silentstyx]

Hii, I hope you're okay, I wanted to make a request for Rory x reader, where they are both vampires and feel so in love with each other, that every time one thinks of the other they start to float automatically, it would be more like their friends deal with that pair of lovers and their occurrences, sorry if it's a very long request, and sorry also for my english, it's not my native language

"Touch My Neck and I'll touch Yours"

tw! vampires, blood, idiots in love

pls pls PLS check the fanfic playlist it looks so cute i think you guys will love herrr! also i literally can only think of this as hc's of this sweet boy !!

-love letters from each other; floating

-smelling each other; floating

-seeing each other; floating

-kiss on the cheek?

-guess what

-FLOATING!!!!!

-they're all sick of you both, the whole gang.

-they're plotting. they keep you as far apart as possible during school.

-cutest couple in school, very very affectionate.

-the thing about you he says the most is, "i would let her suck the last drop out my food."

-it creeps everyone out. besides you! you just are in love with him and everything he does <3

"Hey Rory, Y/N told us to give you this. We didn't see what was in it." Ethan says, giving Rory a decorated box.

Rory opens it and sees a blood bag and a love note. Guess what he did! f.l.o.a.t.i.ng.

-anyways.... if you're a vampire, date Rory. He's awesome and loyal and funny and awesome.

[ittlebug]

shoutout to the age regressors that aren’t ‘little’. tweens i see you. teens i see you. young adults i see you. all big kids, i see you. your regression is just as valid as anyone else’s.

regressors with ‘scary’ theriotypes, i see you. wolves, tigers, lions, bears, coyotes— all of you. you are important. your experiences matter so much.

regressors that get mean when they regress, because it is a trauma response, you’re seen. you deserve kindness and gentle hands when you’re 3 and want to color, and also when you’re 8 and have growing pains, and also when you’re 12 and are starting to see yourself and form an identity and needing an adult more than ever to guide you and help your insecurities. to aid you and show you the right path.

regressors that were always torn down for showing emotions when they were younger so now you’re stuck at 10 and all you can do is cry and scream, beg for a hug and then pull away because of how scared you are.

regressors that feel like they’ll always be 13, scared, hurt, betrayed in their heart. waiting for someone to heal the inner child’s wound, because you feel like you can’t, because you’re still just 13 yourself.

[rory-cakes]

Alastor's Birdy-HC

AN: Alestor who was married to a woman during his life. she went to heaven and he went to hell.

Alastor was a mystery to everyone

Creepy, scary, and truly evil were things other souls used to describe him

He didn't care about anyone or anything

He found joy in others' misery

No one would expect him to have ever been in love

no one

Then Missy came to visit

"so how's your little birdy doin'?"

who?

"ya know? his wife?"

his what?

"She's not here. she would never be here"

he's not denying it? and here? as in hell?

"YOU WERE MARRIED!?"

"I AM married. we never divorced"

his eye twitches. That wretch of a woman, missy

spill his whole life story, why don't you?

"She went to heaven. She's an angel."

EVERYONE HAS QUESTIONS

no she wasn't forced into the marrige

yes he loved-loves he

no it wasn't Stockholm syndrome

they were married for 25 years before he died

yes she's real

"how do you know she's in heaven?"

she literally ran multiple shelters and the had a separate place for all of the strays she took in

"like you?"

angel wishes he thought before he spoke sometimes

then charlie's like:

"YOU SHOULD WORK ON BEING REDEAMED YOURSELF SO THAT YOU CAN BE WITH HER!!"

and alastor's like

ha- no

he doesn't have the right to be with her again

not after what he'd done...

[rorylovesmatt]

insomnia - Matthew sturniolo

summary: matt is having a hard time sleeping so he calls the only person he knows will help.

word count: 532

a/n: i don’t know what to write next 💔 if you have any request send them my way! also the lyrics don’t really match but it’s okay…

Matt laid in bed staring at the ceiling. The clock on his nightstand flashed 2:37 AM. The bright numbers were a harsh reminder of how late it had become. He sighed turning over for what felt like the hundredth time that night, but no position seemed comfortable. His mind was a whirl of thoughts. None of which seemed to settle down enough to let him sleep

He knew this feeling all too well. Nights when his brain just wouldn’t shut off, when every little worry and thought increased in the silence. But tonight felt different, heavier, and he knew there was only one person who could help him through it

Reaching for his phone he hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want to wake her up but he needed her… badly. With a deep breath he scrolled to her name in his contacts and hit call

The phone rang twice before he heard her sleepy voice on the other end. “Matt? Is everything okay?”

The concern in her voice made his chest tighten with guilt but at the same time it was a comfort to hear her. “I’m sorry for waking you up Y/n” he said softly. “I just... I can’t sleep”

There was a pause and he could almost see her sitting up in bed rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Is something on your mind?” she asked gently

“I don’t even know” he admitted, frustration creeping into his voice. “I just feel agitated. Like I can’t shut my brain off”

Y/n was quiet for a moment, then she spoke, her voice soothing. “Do you want to talk about it? Or would you rather just hear my voice?”

Matt felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth despite everything. She always knew just what he needed. “I think I just need you” he said. His voice barely above a whisper

“Okay” she replied softly, “I’m here. Why don’t you close your eyes and try to relax?”

He did as she said, closing his eyes and focusing on the sound of her voice. She started talking about their day, the little things they’d done together, the way she’d laughed at one of his bad jokes, and the plans they had for the weekend

As she talked he could feel the tension in his body slowly melting away. It was as if her voice was wrapping around him, comforting him in a way that nothing else could. He didn’t need to respond, she knew that just hearing her was enough

Minutes passed and Matt felt himself slipping into a calm, peaceful state. Her voice became softer, almost like a lullaby, and before he knew it, his breathing had evened out, his mind finally quiet

“Are you feeling better?” she asked after a while, her voice barely a murmur

“Yeah,” he whispered back, his words slurred with sleep. “Thank you Y/n. I love you”

“I love you too Matt” she replied softly. “Get some rest now”

With her voice still echoing in his ears Matt finally drifted off. knowing that no matter what, she would always be there to help him. Even if it was in the middle of the night

[ladyinwriting18]

A Gift For A Hound (Sandor Clegane x Reader)

Summary: Joffrey gives his faithful Hound a gift---you.

Words: 5,277 Warnings: PIV, Oral sex, Master/Slave,

The Hound walks down the long stone corridor that leads to his room. In his right hand he carries a wineskin filled with the first thing he could get his fucking hands on. Being the personal bodyguard to a cunt like Joffrey is no easy task. The little shit is ruthlessly cruel. Which is saying something coming from him. Sandor Clegane isn’t known for being kind hearted but he’s no Joffrey. The boy is sick in the head. He does his best to push it from his mind. The day is done, meaning he can forget the shit from the day and drown himself in wine alone until the numbness of sleep takes him. This is Sandor’s nightly ritual. One that he honestly looks forward to. But when he opens the door, he isn’t greeted by the usual solitude. Instead, there’s a naked woman kneeling on the floor beside his bed.

It takes him a moment to get over the initial shock, but when he does, his voice booms throughout his chamber. “What the fuck is this? What are you doing here?”  You lift your head to look at him, keeping your hands palms up on the tops of your knees. You’re as naked as your nameday, all except your neck. Tied around it is a yellow ribbon with three black dogs down the front—the colors and sigil of his house. “Hello, My Lord Hound.” “I’m no lord. So you can keep those meaningless titles to yourself.” You nod but stay silent. Sandor growls, nearly barking at you. “Well? Are you going to tell me what the fuck you’re doing in here?” You don’t even flinch at his raised voice, just answer him softly with a voice as warm as honey. “I belong to you. I am yours to do with as you please.” His brows pull together, not understanding the words that just left your mouth. “What?” You smile and patiently repeat yourself. “I belong to you now, for as long as you want me.” Your words have his eyes roam over your body for the first time. Every curve, the smoothness of your skin, and the way the chill in the room already has your nipples hard makes his cock twitch. “I’m a gift from King Joffrey.” That catches his attention. Joffrey barely spared him a glance. Now he was giving him gifts? “You’re…my gift.” You smile warmly. “Yes. Master.” That was new. No one had ever called him that before. He isn’t sure how to feel about it, but it’s far better than being called ‘my lord’. He steps over the threshold and lets the door shut behind him before moving closer. At his approach, you once again bow your head. There’s a gentle air about you. It’s something that isn’t a typical trait to the women found on the Streets of Silk. Not that Sandor was a frequent visitor. Most women couldn’t stomach looking at his scarred face. Even when he paid them, they struggled. What was the point of wasting coin on that?

You, on the other hand, are almost intoxicatingly feminine. It makes him want to press his nose to your cunt and breathe in your scent. He looks down at you, feeling more curious and less irritated than when he first walked in. “You said you belong to me?” You nod. “So, you’ll do anything I ask you to?” You keep your eyes downcast but respond without hesitation. “Yes, Master Hound. It will bring me great pleasure to fulfill your every request.”

A tension builds through his frame. Not out of anger, but anticipation. Anticipation to feel release that he often doesn’t get unless he takes his cock in his hand. “Look at me,” he commands. You do so eagerly, looking at him without a speck of fear. He searches your eyes for the lie, determined to find it. He is the Hound afterall. Usually he could smell a liar from yards away, but with you, he only sees devotion. As if you truly wish to serve him. Most were intimidated or afraid of him, but this is something different. It’s submission. It awakens his more animalistic needs. The part that wants nothing more than to fuck and claim and breed. His unscarred eye twitches as his hand moves to your cheek—to see if you’ll flinch at his touch. But, fuck, you lean into his palm and press your lips to the pad of his gloved tumb. Never once averting your gaze. He lets out a breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding. You’re all his.  He starts to pull his armor and clothes from his body. You sit up on your knees, helping where you can. You manage to pull the gauntlets from his hands and unbuckle his sword belt. But the rest he does. His fingers move too fast and he knows the armor like the back of his hand. You find other ways to make yourself useful, taking items from him and gently placing them down while he throws the rest on the floor. When he’s left in nothing but his pants and boots, your hand lightly runs over the bulge in the front of his pants. Involuntarily, he bucks into your touch, wanting more. However, you make no move to continue past teasing touches. He grunts impatiently, catching your attention. Your eyes meet, your head tilting to the side as you whisper the words…. “Command me, Master.” Command? Why the fuck would he need to do that? Any other whore he’d ever slept with always took matters into their own hands and rushed to get things over with. “Tell me how to please you. I just want to please my Master.” Your pleading tone shoots right to his already hardening cock. The corners of his mouth twitch into a grin while his hand moves to the back of your skull. He pulls you in, guiding you closer to his groin.

“Kiss it.” Immediately, you obey, leaving kisses along his clothed cock. Only the linen of his pants separates you, but still he can feel the warmth of your mouth. Sandor lets out a rough growl while undoing the knot at the front of his pants. “Don’t stop.” You coo as sweetly as a dove and your kisses become more passionate as moans escape your parted lips. You hold eye contact with him without fear, without disgust, without judgment. He can’t recall a time when even his fellow King’s Guard was able to look at him, let alone a woman. Everything about this is different. You are different. 

You look at him with desire. It only makes him more eager to sink his cock into you. However, once the cloth falls away to reveal his fully naked form, you sit back on your heels with your feet folded beneath you. You sit with your spine perfectly straight and your hands resting on your knees. You look more like a high born lady than a common whore. So submissive and pretty. “You’re waiting for my command, aren’t you?” His hand comes down to wrap around the length of his aching cock. Your eyes dart to the movement of his hand. You seem transfixed but still manage to respond, “My sole purpose is to give my Master pleasure. I’m your property to do with as you please.”

“My property?” he breathes and starts to slowly stroke himself. He does this more to tease you than himself. It clearly works because you only seem able to nod. A sly grin comes across his features. “You’re my property,” he repeats, louder to refocus you. “A beautiful…little thing…that belongs to me.” Sandor pants between words, stroking himself with a firmer grip.

“Yes, Master,” you moan with a lick of your lips. “I belong to you and only you.”

“Then be a good girl and come suck your Master’s cock.” You rise onto your knees so fast that you almost take him by surprise. Within moments, you’re pushing his hand away and wrapping your own around the base while your tongue traces over the veins in his shaft. “Your cock is so thick,” you moan out. Sandor isn’t sure if you meant to say that out loud but it hardly matters once you wrap your lips around the head of his cock. Your hand and mouth work in tandem—tugging firmly while lovingly sucking. That is…until you drop your hand away and swallow his cock whole. “Fucking Hells,” he swears and involuntarily bucks his hips forward. You hum, tightening your lips around his thickness as you pick up the pace and bob your head up and down. He watches you intently. Dark brown irises burn with lust as you suck him off like your life depended on it. “Filthy thing is enjoying this, isn’t she?” he pants, dick stiffening and pulsing in your mouth. 

You nod with a happy little hum, and Sandor can’t fight the smile that tugs at the corners of his scarred lips. Your mouth is warm and so fucking inviting, like his cock was always meant to be there. He wants more. His hand shoots out to grip the back of your head as thick fingers tangle in the locks of your hair. He moves you up and down at just the right pace. You obey his physical command, allowing him to fuck your mouth while you drool all over him. Sandor is by no means a small man and his cock is no different, but you handle it with skill. The sloppy, wet sounds of you sucking with such enthusiasm makes him feel drunk. The pleasure courses through him, all the way down to his toes. It’s almost too much. And your big, beautiful eyes don’t make it any easier. They’re full of affection while unshed tears prickle at the corners of your eyes from how wide your mouth is stretched open. He slams his cock into your throat, hitting as deeply as you can possibly take him. Your hands and nails dig into his thighs to hold yourself steady. “That’s it,” he grunts, “take it.” You moan and gag with your brows knit together. He would have thought you were in pain if it wasn’t for the blissed expression on your face.

Sandor takes all of you in, wanting to commit the image of you gagging on his cock to memory. So that when you were gone, he’d at least still have that. But that’s when he catches sight of you pressing your thighs together. The blood in his veins sings. You’re getting off on this.

On pleasing him. On having his cock in your mouth. On obeying. Suddenly, having you down on the ground isn’t enough. He forcefully pulls away, slipping his cock out of your mouth. You whine at the loss and lean forward to try and get him back in your mouth, but not even your alluring mouth will keep a man like The Hound from getting what he wants. Bending at the waist, he shoves his hands under your armpits and lifts you up from the ground before throwing you onto his bed. You yelp when your back hits the mattress. Sandor simply grins at your shock from being so easily manhandled.  “Is that cunt as pretty as your face, girl?” Blood rushes to your cheeks, coloring them, but still you open your legs, baring yourself. You’re a soaking, dripping mess. He’s certain he’s never seen a cunt as wet as yours is right now. It makes his throat feel dry…and in desperate need of a drink. Not willing to wait any longer, Sandor sinks to his knees and dives his face between your thighs. His tongue drags along your folds before it grazes your clit. Even at the slightest touch, you sigh and arch into his mouth. “More. Please, give me more.” Your pleas are sweet. So sweet that he’s no longer interested in teasing. He repeats the movement of his tongue but this time uses the flat of it to press firmer against your sensitive bud. You cry out, thighs closing tightly around his head. Sandor grunts, his arms sliding under your legs. He curls them around your thighs and uses his hands to keep your legs apart. With your movements restricted, he smashes his mouth against your clit. His lips wrap around it and suck. You buck and manage to throw a leg over his shoulder. Your foot presses against his broad back, using it as leverage to grind your hips towards his mouth. He smirks, proud that he’s the one eliciting such a response from you. While it’s true he rarely spends his coin on whores, this skill was something he learned long before his days at King’s Landing. In his youth, there had been a servant girl who worked in the kitchens. They had grown up together and thus she hadn’t ever feared his burned face. Exploring one another's bodies had felt natural. That’s how Sandor became acquainted with the taste of women. Once upon a time, they might have been married…if Gregor hadn’t found out and killed her in a jealous rage. Sandor forces the past from his mind. There’s no use in it when he has your cunt filling his senses. He savors the taste on his tongue, using it to flick your clit while sucking on it. You continue to buck and cry out, the pleasure clearly building for you. But he doesn’t want you reaching your peak just yet. He moves away, only slightly. His saliva mixes with your slick. They drip together making you all the more wet. It’s a delicious sight.

“Messy thing,” he praises, and he can feel the way your toes curl against his back. “You know,” he continues, “I usually spend my nights drinking but you’ve interrupted that.” Purposely, he pauses, letting you think he’s actually upset. You whimper, ready to apologize but Sandor speaks over you, his voice huskier than before. “Are you going to make it up to me, girl? And give me something else to drink?” You stumble over your words but still manage to speak, “Y-Yes Master, anything.”

Sandor hums from the back of his throat and swipes your clit with his tongue before answering. “Then be a good little slut and cum on my tongue.” Not bothering to wait for a reply, he runs his tongue to your slit, gathering more juices along the way. He probes your entrance before letting it fill you. You gasp in time with his moan. No longer can he taste the wine he was previously drinking. His taste buds are filled with nothing but your cunt. He vigorously pumps his tongue in and out of you. Your hands find his head, fingers tangle in hair in an attempt to tug him in deeper. “Fuckkkk, you’re so good with your tongue, Master!” Usually Sandor hates being touched without permission, but you’re so desperate it feels like he’d be committing a sin if he stopped you.

Besides, you’re dripping down his chin and giving him exactly what he wanted—a drink. But like a man starved, he wants more. He presses his thumb to your clit to stroke it. You throw your head back and sing. It’s the purest music he’s ever heard. 

The louder you moan, the harder his cock throbs.

For the next few moments, the only sounds are your cries of pleasure and his grunts against your core.

It isn’t long before you start trembling, to the point that even your inner thighs shake.

“I…I’m going to–”

You don’t need to finish your sentence for Sandor to know that you’re about to cum. He doesn’t let up the movements of his tongue or the pressure to your clit but still you try to force words out of your mouth. “P-Please. Please can I–?” Realization flashes through him. You were asking for permission to cum. Why you think you needed to ask, Sandor doesn’t know, but Gods if it isn’t the most erotic fucking thing. He moves away just enough to speak. “Go on, girl. Give me what I want and cum.” His tongue plunges back into your depths and you spasm around it. When your orgasm hits, your entire body goes rigid and breathy, unrestrained moans bleed from your throat. His cock twitches wildly in response, precum surely dripping onto the stone floor he’s kneeling on. You’ve coated his tongue with your juices, making Sandor wonder if you’ll do the same to his cock. He works you through your aftershocks while drinking from you, licking up every drop he can.   It's only when you fall limply back onto the mattress that he stops and removes his tongue and fingers from you. He sits back to look you over. You’re even more beautiful with a flushed face and glossed over eyes.

“Thank you for letting me cum, Master,” you murmur politely.

And just when he thought you couldn’t be any more perfect. Rising onto the bed, he grabs you by the back of the neck and hauls you towards him. His mouth crashes onto yours, forcing his tongue past your parted lips.

You return the kiss in a flurry of passion while your hands roam freely over his body. Starting from his shoulder, you trail your hands down his bare chest to his hip bones. He moans into your kiss, enjoying the feeling of your soft hands and the way you gently suck at his tongue.

Your hands continue downward until your fingertips brush against his still very hard cock.

He breaks the kiss with a smirk. “Something you want, Little One?” You brush your lips against his with a nod. “Make me belong to you.” “I thought you already did,” he teases gruffly with his hot breath in your face. “You’re my property, remember?” Color blooms across your cheeks, but whether it’s in satisfaction or embarrassment, Sandor isn’t sure. “I am. I belong to you, Lord Hound. I’m your—” He barks over you, cutting you off. “What did I say about that ‘my lord’ shit?” You instantly close your mouth, lips pressing into a thin line at your mistake. Fucking hells. He wanted to fuck you, not scold you. Sandor lets out a breath and forces himself to soften his tone. “I don’t need fancy titles, my name is good enough.” Your expression falls, the color draining from your cheeks. “King Joffrey only referred to you as ‘The Hound’. Is…Is that not your name?” You look upset, bordering on mortified but Sandor can’t stop the gruff laugh that bubbles from his chest. 

“I should have known that slimy little bastard would pull something like that.” You look thoroughly confused. His dark eyes look you over, your once pliable body now stiff as stone. However, it’s the ribbon of his house sigil that catches his attention. It doesn’t have the same appeal now that he knows you don’t know what it means. “And I’m guessing he didn’t tell you the meaning behind this?” he questions bitterly and starts untying it from around your neck. You shake your head ‘no’. “Just that it would please you to see me wear it.” He pulls the ribbon free, but before he can toss it away, you grip his large hand with both of yours. “Tell me? Please, Master, I want to know.” You ask so sincerely that it halts his movements. Your eyes meet, and all his willpower leaves him. “It’s the sigil for my house.” “House?” you prompt in hopes he’ll continue. 

“Clegane.” You smile bright, repeating after him so you could lock the information away forever. Sandor, on the other hand, is too distracted by the new rush of blood that pumps down to his groin. When he doesn’t say anything else, you squeeze his hand gently. “And my Master’s given name?” “Sandor.” “Sandor.” You take your time saying it, as if tasting his name on your tongue. “Sandor Clegane,” you whisper with a smirk, noticing how he starts leaning in closer. He doesn’t stop, forcing you to shift your position and slowly lay back onto the bed. “Master Sandor.”  You moan and he growls. Your legs part to accommodate him and he places a hand beside your head, trapping you beneath him. “You don’t need to call me Master.” Your smirk widens. “But you like it when I do.” He huffs because you’re right. “Fucking vixen,” he snarls and kisses you hard. Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders and your legs hike up to his hips, allowing his cock to press against your core. You’re still so warm and wet that it’s almost painful to not plunge himself inside. And maybe he would have if you hadn’t been so smug just now. “Beg,” he commands, while the hand not holding him up grips your neck. “And tell your Master what you want.” His fingers wrap effortlessly around your throat. He doesn’t do this to hurt you, just to apply enough pressure so you know who’s in charge. To his surprise, you moan and tilt your head back to give him better access. “That’s better,” he coos and rewards you by running his tongue from your jawline to the shell of your ear. “Brat just needed to be put back in her place, didn’t she?” His hot breath in your ear gives you goosebumps. “Yes, Master. I’m sorry, Master.” “Then prove it.” He gives your throat another squeeze before releasing it. “I’ll behave, I swear.” Your hands run from his forearms, over his muscular shoulders and down his chest until the swell of your breasts are pressed against him. “I just want my Master to claim me. Want to feel him inside.” You pause and rock your hips forward to grind your cunt against his length. “Please, Sandor? Please fuck me.”  It’s his name that does him in. He isn’t used hearing it, let alone someone saying it while asking him to fuck them. He straightens his back and guides your legs to fully wrap around his waist. You continue pleading but instead of giving you a verbal reply, he plunges balls deep inside of you. You both instantly tense. He, because of the tightness of your walls clinging around him, and you, because of the sudden intrusion of his cock demanding to be taken. “That’s it. Taking me so well,” he breathlessly praises, slowly moving out, then back in so you’d have time to adjust. He breathes out, watching his cock glisten from your juices when he pulls out a bit. Your head lulls to the side with a moan, feeling beyond stuffed full but also whole.

“Is this what you wanted, girl? To be speared on my cock and used?” “Yes!” you cry, trying to arch back to get his cock deeper. “Please use me. Ruin me for anyone else.”

At that, he slams into you, not being able to wait any longer. You yelp at the pressure, screaming and twisting your fists into the bedsheets. There’s no way he could keep his pace slow, not when you feel this good melting around his cock. 

You had said you wanted to be ruined. Sandor Celegane might not be a lord, or a knight, or a gentleman, but he could most certainly ruin you with his cock.

He repositions your legs, throwing them over his shoulders so that your feet are by his ears. He’s able to fuck you even deeper now, his balls smacking against you with every brutal thrust.

His rhythm is rough and steady. And with how tightly he holds your legs in place, you can do nothing but lay there moaning and clenching around him. 

“You’ll never forget this. When the next flimsy little knight comes along to fuck you, it’ll be my cock you think about.” 

Your eyes screw shut, the pleasure building in your lower belly. It feels like he’s everywhere, filling your cunt and taking over your mind and body. How you manage to nod in response is beyond you. But a nod isn’t good enough.

“Say. It,” he snarls, punctuating his words with even deeper thrusts. You curl your toes with a whine. “It’ll be your cock, Master! Only your cock.” “Mhmm, good girl.” He looks down at where your bodies are joined and sees his cock, hard, ribbed with veins and coated in your juices as it thrusts in and out of your wet hole. It’s a glorious sight and it has his orgasm threatening to hit, but there’s something he has to do first. And that’s making you cum. He reaches between your bodies and easily finds your clit. He rubs it, strokes it, and draws circles on it until he finds the touch that has you babbling in broken, indecipherable sentences.

“I want you to cum,” he speaks in labored breathing, rubbing your clit while still spearing you on his length. “I want you to cum for me now. ”

For a moment, you fall completely silent, but then it hits. The unfiltered, beautiful howls that accompany your climax. All the while your inner walls close around him in the most delicious way.

He curses, lurching forward as you gush and spasm all over him. It’s too much and he’s quickly following you over the edge, filling you with his cum. Like a cat having their head scratched, an almost purring like sound leaves you at the feeling of him filling you with his seed. It has Sandor feeling dazed as to why that would please you, but his focus is on steadying his breathing as he comes down from cumming for the first time in fuck knows how long. Your breathing is also labored, while your eyes struggle to stay open. It’s clear you’re fighting off sleep. He carefully slips out of you, even more careful not to jostle you as he sits on the edge of the bed. He finds his wineskin from earlier by the foot of the bed. Greedily, he drinks from it until his throat no longer feels dry. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of your naked form. If he was this thirsty, then your throat must be raw after all that screaming. He reaches for you, tugging you into his arms to help you sit up. You whine, eyes fluttering open, but relax when he pulls you to sit between his thighs and leans you against his chest. “Here, this will help soothe your throat.” He hands you the wineskin, which you graciously take. Sandor watches you take long, slow sips. A drop slips past your mouth and drips down your chin to land on your breast. He grins. He likes a woman who doesn't mind getting dirty. You’re just as beautiful now as you were when he first walked in to you demurely sitting on the floor. “Will you tell me your name?”

You lower the wineskin from your lips and say it with a smile. This time it’s he who repeats you, liking the way it rolls off his tongue. You nod, smiling at him before taking another drink. He stands and starts making his way to the basin of water set on a small table in the corner of the room. “Drink as much as you like. I can get more,” he says from over his shoulder as he starts washing away the sweat on his chest and the slick that you’ve managed to coat even his balls in. Afterwards, he puts on a pair of lightweight sleep pants. When he turns back to you, he expects to find you still drinking or dressing, but instead he finds you sitting on his bed and watching him. “Where are your nightclothes?” You fidget uncomfortably, looking away. Sandor grunts under his breath, he should have known this wouldn’t last. “If you don’t wish to stay, then just say so.” The bite in his voice is evident and you snap your head up in his direction. “I-It’s not that!” you protest. “I want to stay. I just…don’t have any clothes.” His brows pull together in confusion, “Joffrey didn’t leave your clothes here for you?” You shake your head ‘no’. That angers him. Joffrey was a callous shit but to leave you with nothing was just cruel. “No personal belongings? How the fuck did he expect you to get home after this?” You flinch, once again looking away. “The King said….” you trail off. “Nevermind, Master.” Your discomfort radiates off of you. Quietly, he fishes out a clean shirt out of a trunk at the end of the bed and makes his way over to you. “Arms up, Little One.”

You lift your head and see the shirt in his hands. You obey and he slips the shirt over your head and helps you dress. “This damn thing is going to look more like a dress on you, but it’ll do until morning.” You pull your knees to your chest while muttering a ‘thank you’. There’s still something bothering you and Sandor is determined to figure out what it is. “Look at me,” he commands, knowing you’ll obey. You do and he continues. “Do you know why they call me ‘The Hound’?” You stare at him in fascination and shake your head. “Because I can smell a lie as easily as I can breathe. So out with it. What’s upsetting you?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip before responding. “King Joffrey told me I didn’t need to pack anything because he bought me from the keeper of the pleasure house. He…” You falter, trying to find the bravery to continue. “He said that if you didn’t wish to keep me once we were through, that he’d pass me around to his other guards until they used me up. Or that maybe he’d kill me himself.” Rage boils in his blood. Not only because Joffrey put you through hell, but because he suddenly can’t bear the thought of another having you. “No one is going to touch what’s mine.” The threat of his words hangs in the air but you look relieved. “You…You mean you’ll keep me here with you?” Sandor nearly chokes because he hadn’t thought that far ahead. All he knew is that he didn’t want Joffrey or any other to get their hands on you. “Is…Is that what you want?” You smile bright, brighter than the summer’s sun. “Nothing would make me happier, Master.” As beautiful as you are, and as lovely as it sounds to have a warm cunt to bury himself in each night, the cold blade of reality cuts through. “Well don’t go making it sound like it’ll be all sunshine and lemoncakes. I’m not by any means a joy to live with and—” But you aren’t listening because you’re too busy crawling into his lap. You straddle him and nuzzle your face into the side of his neck. “Thank you, Sandor,” you whisper against his skin, melting against his body as you make yourself comfortable. No one had ever thanked him in his entire life. He isn’t sure how to handle it. The longer you lay against him, the more a warmth blooms inside his breastbone. He likes the way it feels having you close. It makes him feel things. Things he doesn’t have a name for. You let out a small sigh, seemingly starting to fall asleep while sitting up. He shifts and lays down on the bed with you still tucked against his chest. 

There was no way of knowing what the future held, but Sandor Celange did know one thing….. This was the best damn present he’d ever received.

[greyyson-but-no]

dying to know what happens when reader from "kill the director" encounters rory 😭🫶 love love love your writing

lets dance to joy division

; prep yourself, i'm a 'rory is a villain' truther. it comes off very clearly in this lmao

the following morning, you and jess entered the diner for some sort of sustenance for the rest of the day. he hadn't exactly said what it was that you two were going to do all day, just that he had a couple ideas for what it could. the diner was somewhat busy. there were a couple tables opening up by the window, but the clock on the wall read half 11, which meant everyone that would come to the diner for breakfast had already eaten, and had left.

you and jess found two barstools by the counter for you to slide on as luke noticed your arrival and said some form of greeting. you'd ended up at the dragonfly, michel getting the two of you a room and somehow not recognizing jess at all. earlier this morning, you'd woken up with jess already out of bed and urging you to follow him into town. unsurprisingly, he had just bought you straight back to the diner.

"so you guys got anything planned for today?" luke asks, refilling our mug with more coffee, leaning against the counter as the late breakfast rush slowly petered out.

jess nodded, taking your jacket off for you. "i'm gonna show her everywhere and anywhere of importance."

the elder chucked to himself. "the lake?"

"that one's a surprise." he joked, lifting his index finger up to his lips to shush luke. of course, you had already heard the story of luke pushing jess in the water on one of his first days in town. you very very excited to see the place, get a better visualization of the situation, you know.

you took a sip of your coffee, humming along with their conversation as you tended to do. but when the bell above the door rang, luke's eyes widened and jess spun around to see who it was.

in walked rory gilmore, with heat-iron curls and a coat that looked more expensive than your whole outfit. you didn't even have to know what she looked like to see it was her. just the many stories you'd heard, the incident with miss patty yesterday evening and the way she held herself.

luke stammered. "i didn't know she was back."

jess shook his head. "apparently neither did i."

catching the sight of jess and luke, her eyes widened at the new-author's presence in the diner, face lighting up. swiftly, she made her way over to the counter, smiling. "jess! hey!"

jess naturally stepped closer to you. "rory... how've you been?"

she nodded, practically grinning. "not bad, not bad. i... uh, i moved back, as you can probably assume." when jess hummed, she still continued. "yeah no, mom and i made up, and i should be going back to yale in the fall."

"wow, um." he coughed into his fist. "that's good."

rory nodded, perky look faltering as the conversation teetered into basically nothing. jess didn't feel comfortable enough to continue the conversation and luke had already excused himself out of it to avoid the awkwardness. that left you.

so you slid off the barstool and held your hand out. "hey, you must be rory."

she hesitantly shook your hand. "yeah, and you are...?"

"y/n." you nodded, wrapping a hand around jess' arm as you tilted your head to smile at her. "jess and i are just visiting from philly, it's good to finally meet you, i've heard... a lot."

really, you didn't mean to be cold, or be a bitch. it just... happened.

rory nodded, looking between the two of you to try and connect the dots. it was clear she was struggling. there was something satisfying about her hating this situation so much. after all she did to jess, this was pretty funny. "and you two are... an item?"

"mhm." you hummed. "a year and a half, in fact."

"wow, that's commitment, jess." she laughed, turning to him and practically ignoring her conversation with you. it was becoming so obvious the kind of girl she was.

jess ignored her comment, simply tilting his head and snaking an arm around your waist. "yeah well, it was nice to see you again but we've got places to be so we better head off."

rory nodded. "yeah okay, i'll see you around."

the two of you wandered out the diner, his arm moving to around your shoulder, pressing a kiss against your hair as the door shut behind you. while you kept walking, it was evident you were both waiting to be in the clear before talking about what had just happened.

a couple seconds later, you turned the corner into one of the parks of stars hollow and both burst into laughter. jess found your waist and pulled you close.

"oh my god!" you were shaking your head, a hand over your mouth as you let your head fall against his chest. "that was... interesting."

jess smiled. "to say the least."

pulling your head back up, you caught his eyes. "its been two years and she is still not over you! i hate to say it, but i don't blame her, to be honest."

"mhm." he hummed, finding your hands and intertwining them as he looked over the details dotted around your face.

"and we didn't even get breakfast!"

jess' smile fell, pinching his lips together. "i'm really sorry, i really didn't know she was back here, i didn't know she'd turn up a luke's like that."

you furrowed your eyebrows at him. "why are you apologizing?"

"after last night's conversation i just thought-"

shaking your head, you shut him up. "like you said, you didn't know she would turn up like that. you've got no reason to apologize. so what we didn't get breakfast, so what we didn't get to have a proper chat with luke, we'll see him tonight. it's not the end of the world."

"i suppose." he shrugged, tilting his head.

resting a hand on his cheek, you smiled up at him. "and look on the bright side, i finally got to meet her, and got to be a bitch to her. you don't get to do that every day. especially to a yale idiot."

jess smiled, leaning forward to press his lips against yours in a swift peck that had you humming and smiling. "okay, that part was a fair bit satisfying."

"exactly." you smiled. "okay, now you've gotta show me around this place."

he let you go, taking your hand and dragging you in a very particular direction. "come on then..."

[nevvdrinksteaa]

pairing: jack thurlow x reader

warnings: 18+ nsfw smut, porn without plot, afab reader, oral (face fucking!!!), degration (use of bitch, slut, whore), slight praise (that’s a stretch), DADDY KINK (jack has a daddy kink sry not sry (#daddyissues)) !!!!!, use of toys, no reference to body type or race !!

word count: 400 (short lil thing, i’m tired and horny sry)

as always reblogs are loved and appreciated,, also i’m taking requests hehe *kiss kiss*

~~~

“come on, bitch, just like that”

you’re laying flat on your back, head hanging off the edge of the bed, body hot against your cool, silk sheets. you could feel hot tears streaming down your face, drool pooling from the sides of your mouth.

“awe look at you baby, why are you crying? you asked for this” you felt his cock push deeper and deeper with every stroke.

jack has his hand tight against your throat, making you light headed, his other hand held a wand, vibrating violently against your clit. you felt yourself getting closer and closer, knots tightening in your stomach. you took your hand to your leg, tapping against his leg to breathe. you took a deep breath, feeling yourself let go. you felt dizzy, stars speckling your vision.

“wanted daddy to fuck this pretty fucking mouth and now you can’t take it.” he gave your face an open palm slap, then patting your cheek lightly, tapping his cock against your tongue. “you gonna be a good whore and take it?”

you nodded quickly before you felt him push himself back in, moaning at the intrusion. he kept steady thrusts, groaning at the tightness with every shallow breath you took. “you look so pretty like this, throat wrapped around my fat cock”

you moved your hands up cupping his balls playing with them slightly, rolling them with your fingers. you felt him twitch in your throat, followed by a loud groan. “fuck i’m close”

your felt him pick up the pace, hips moving in a smooth pattern. “you gonna take daddy’s cum down your throat?” your eyes squeezed shut, blinking tears down your face. “be a good little whore and swallow it all”

you felt his pace falter, moaning as he came. “fuck, i’m coming, take it. take. it. all.” pushing his body into you, his hips punctuating every word. you felt your mouth get hot, salt coating your taste buds. jack pulled out slowly, leaning down to look in your eyes, his hand grabbed your jaw.

“did you get what you asked for baby?”