#the fucking ribbons on both cards too

[neverbesokind]

Ask me how insane it makes me that THESE lyrics were commissioned for these two specifically. Take a guess.

[neowonderland]

Summary: Jeno never truly understands why his boyfriend, Jaemin sticks next to you

Pairings: Poly! Nomin x reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, noncon

Dark Content, Minor please DNI

Disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction. I do not condone the actions of any characters in this story and the actions do not reflect the idols in any way.

Jeno never truly understood why his boyfriend stuck around you.

Jaemin's free to do what he wants, free to spend time and sleep around with whoever. Jeno is free to do the same, but it doesn't stop him from judging Jaemin's decisions.

To Jeno, you were like a caricature of a human being, too sweet, too innocent, too naive. Jeno swears there isn't a thought behind your eyes when you gaze at his boyfriend, Jaemin with your doe eyes, wide, filled with admiration and listening intently to what Jaemin would say.

Jeno never understood why Jaemin would let you touch him, Jaemin letting your fingers card through his hair while he laid his head on your lap, your head resting on his shoulder or your arms wrapped around Jaemin while you two sat on the couch together.

To Jeno, you were a nuisance to both him and his boyfriend, an annoying moth that was drawn to Jaemin like a flame, a fly that could never seem to leave Jaemin alone. Jeno wished that Jaemin tolerated you out of politeness, but the shopping sprees, countless gifts, gentle words and affectionate glances seemed to say otherwise.

Maybe Jeno was jealous, seeing his precious boyfriends attention on someone else other than him. Maybe it was because Jeno wanted to monopolize Jaemin and have Jaemin dote on him the same way he dotes on you.

Either way, Jeno never understood why Jaemin spent so much time with you.

It didn't hit Jeno why until he stumbled upon you and Jaemin together in Jaemin's room, tied up in pretty pink ribbon underneath Jaemin.

Jeno supposes you're pretty in that moment, helpless under Jaemin with pink ribbon tied in knots and bows traveling on the expanse of your body. It's a pretty contrast against your skin and Jeno knows Jaemin probably picked that shade of pink with the thought of wrapping you in it.

You're crying too, large tears rolling down your face as you tell Jaemin to let you go, that you don't want this, that he can stop anytime he wants and that you won't tell anyone about this. Of course, Jaemin ignores you, opting to bully himself further into your walls, eyes fluttering and groaning as he feels you around him.

Jeno knows you're warm and so tight, almost too tight for Jaemin by the way Jaemins groans and how he tells you that you're "too tight" and that your insides are "not letting go" of him. Jaemin calls you his "little fucktoy" and how you must've been acting that way to get fucked by him.

Jeno guesses it's cute when you shake your head profusely at what Jaemin says, more tears spilling down as you try to form a response from your red, swollen lips. You're struggling against the ribbon, against Jaemin and that brings out a chuckle from him.

It isn't until Jeno bangs his fist against the doorframe that his presence is known and Jaemin invites him to come join him.

It isn't until Jeno is sinking himself into your heat that he truly understands exactly why Jaemin sticks around you.

[seattlesellie]

ellie x plushies obsessed reader hq’s

or

ellie beefing with plushies for 40 minutes straight

or

ellie fucks u with a plushie <3

♡ first of all, dont get it wrong. ellie buys you the actual plushies she has this ongoing beef with. she straight up walks around town, probably dealing or some shit, and then she just sees a plushie that is so you from the window of a kids store, and she staright up runs to get it. jesses all like “where the f-….” and one second later, he sees her standing in line, holding a pink squishmallow ready to pull out her credit card. “sorry” she mouthes to him. “for my girl”

♡ as much as ellie loves to see your face light up when she comes home with a limited edition sanrio plushie, she loves trolling you even more. shed literally see a demonic looking plushie and get it for you, only to see how upset you get over it. shit makes her laugh so hard. shes all giggling like “wh- babe its pretty!! look at its eyes its like he sees through you- s’romantic actually”, she speaks, trying to hold her laughter. youre standing there, simply baffled, just staring at her. “ellie. that is a spongebob plushie and it looks deranged- and why is he missing a shoe?!” you question. she just huffs and says “i dont know” with a guilty look on her face. when you deadpan her she just says “i wanted to see what its feet look like” ¿¿¿ you shove her and she gets all offended and says “pfft… you dont get it” you tell her that monstrosity is not welcomed in your home and she ends up. sleeping with it. every night. ellie sleeps with a spongebob plushie (i hc ellie as being a spongebob lover btw i know shed be quoting him like hes kafka)

♡ one night, you walk to your room, the door is like half closed and you just keep hearing sounds of huffing and muffled breaths. you take a peak, and you literally see ellie flipping off and mouthing “fuck you” to all of your little plushies. youre standing there with this shocked expression, baffled to see your girlfriend pretending to punch the plushies and whispering at them to fuck off. you walk in, and ellie turns to look at you and she looks so guilty, like joel just caught her eating cookies at 3am. “ellie. what are you doing?” you question. she huffs, rolls her her eyes, “they were looking at me weird”

♡ youre naked together, cuddled up after getting your pussy destroyed, and ellie takes out two plushies from behind her. “this is you” she points at the pink ribboned plushie, “and this is me” she points at the black squishmallow. she takes both of them in her hands, bumps them together, and begins demonstrating her wonderful show. the black squishmallow is humping the pink one from the back. ellie pants heavily. “els.” you say, warning her. she gives you a sly look. “mmmhm ellie” she moans. “fuckkk ellie- so so good” youre so shocked, you cover your eyes under the blanket before you even think to grab them off her hands. “taking it so good” she says with a darth-vader like voice. “fuck me harder please” she mocks in a high pitched voice and starts moaning like a porn star. your cheeks are so hot you cant even move. “gonna cum- ellie lemme cum” shes screaming now, youre pretty sure your neighbors can hear. you start kicking her beneath the blanket, and that only makes it worse “ellieeeeee get me pregnant” she yells and moans louder and louder. youre basically assaulting her legs now, pushing her away, which leads her to finish her wonderful spectacle with a “best ive ever had ellie. best ive ever had” youre screaming and yelling at her for sexually harassing your dolls and shes laughing like a maniac, literal tears fall from her eyes. “ooooh-“ she wipes a tear. “that was so fucking funny” she speaks, holding her stomach wheezing. “not funny” you deadpan. “too funny. ahh- shouldve been a comedian” she says. she shouldnt.

♡ shes buried deep inside, your leg resting on her shoulder, tears falling from your eyes from how good, how intensely shes fucking you. a white creamy circle starts forming on her strap. “you crying?” she teases, squeezing your cheeks together forcefully. “mhm-mhm ellie” you whine, cunt flooded with pleasure, and pain, because its so big, and shes so fast. “cry some more” she commands, panting over you. “taking me so so good… my good girl” she coos, lost in the feeling of the harness bumping her clit, and her girl coming undone beneath her. “cant take it… too much!” you plead. shes circling your clit, so slow, just to torture you some more. her hand stops squeezing your tit, and theres a little surprise shes holding on to. “take it” she commands, and places the plushie on your chest, staring directly into your eyes. “hug it for me. gonna make it easier, fuck” she rambles, feeling her own orgasm coming closer and closer. “el- so- so” you cry out, mumbling incoherently and squeezing the doll so tight its eyes almost pop. “jesus christ- cute, so fucking- cute” she pants. her breathing gets heavier and heavier and shes pushing the strap inside even deeper, squeezing out your arousal. “god damn” she growls.

[deanssluvr]

JOOST WITH A GIRLY!READER HCS

pairing: joost klein x fem!reader

content: RPF. sfw + nsfw. pre-established relationship.

a/n: randomly felt the urge to write this at 3am.

SFW

- your style was the first thing he noticed about you when you met. you were a pink floral dress and heels with ribbons that decorated your hair. he thought you were beautiful. you took his staring as something negative at first, but was relieved when he complimented your outfit.

- you were nervous to bring him over to your place, but he was absolutely mesmerized by the way it was decorated.

- one of his favorite dates with you was when you both went to build a bear. you had asked him to get matching bears with you to which he happily agreed. you both settled on getting frogs. his green and yours pink. you dressed yours like a princess and he dressed his like spider-man. at the end you both exchanged them, so you kept his and vice versa.

- you both send pictures of each other doing things with said stuffed animals. like he’d send a pic of him out shopping with it or you’d send a pic cooking with it.

- he noticed your love of decorating so he goes out of way to buy you things that reminds him of you. whether it be little trinkets, a stuffed animal, or a record that he thinks you’d like.

- you have heavily influenced his style since he’s been with you.

- he always handles your stuffed animals with care. talks to them as well.

“how do you think she looks?” he looks down at the stuffed bunny in his hand and nods as if listening to a second opinion. “me too. i think she looks beautiful.”

- he enjoys sitting and watching you do your makeup and skin care routine. likes seeing how much care you put into it. there are a few times where he asked you to do his makeup. sometimes it was just simple eyeliner, but he loved it.

- on that same note you asked if he wanted to do a face mask with you one night and his face lit up immediately. now every once in a while you include him in your skincare routine.

- he lets you paint his nails a new color almost every week and always lets you pick the color. sometimes he just matches with whatever color your nail set is at the time.

- ties your shoes and buckles your heels for you without asking.

- you never pay for anything while he’s around because he never gives you the chance. dinner? new clothes? a piece of jewelry you looked at for only a few seconds? he’s already got his card out for you.

- he sleeps better at your place. it’s mostly because of you, but also because of how goddamn comfortable your bed is. the thick soft comforter? the many fluffy pillows? the pink sheets? he’d always fall asleep quickly in your bed.

- enjoys taking baths over showers with you. loves the scent of your soap you use and the bubbles you put in it. loves the way your hands gently wash him.

- learns how to do your hair. watches so many videos and asked you one day if he could do it. you spent the day doing your hair with him. he looked so concentrated and you found it so sweet.

NSFW

- he is obsessed with how you look in your lingerie sets. he loves the way the delicate lace and satin looks on you. he’s always hesitant to take it off of you.

- although he loved everything you wore, he had to admit that you in skirts were always his favorite. maybe it’s because your legs just look so good in them, or it’s actually because he loves thinking about how pretty they are pushed up your hips while he fucks you from behind. who knows?

- he turns your stuffed animals around whenever you both fuck. he told you it’s because he doesn’t want them to watch.

- he actually prefers having sex at your place though he never tells you. your bed is just so comfy with all the pillows and soft blankets that you layer on it.

- nothing but praise. even when he’s pounding into you harshly or fucking himself further into your throat, he’s still whispering sweet praises into your ear.

“so pretty taking my cock like this.”

“fuck, you’re so perfect”

“you’re doing so good for me schat.”

- loves the way you say his name. you could just be trying to get his attention and he’d melt at how his name sounds on your tongue. but he especially loves hearing you moan his name when your fucking. how desperate you sound for him almost brings him over the edge every time.

- won’t admit it, but the way you smell turns him on. when you hug him or simply just sit next to him and he could smell that perfume that he loves, he’s already getting hard.

- eats you out like you’re his last meal. would do it for hours if he could. prefers giving you head over anything. just loves the way you taste and even more so the sounds you make.

[bits-and-babs]

𝐌𝐮𝐥𝐞 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Other Joel Fics: Atta Girl [10.2K], PlayBoy [3K]

Summary: A betrayal causes both you and Joel to fight for your life.

Word Count: 5.1K!

CW: In order: Horror themes. Bodies. Gory imagery, fighting infected. Wearing Joel’s clothes. Fluffiest, softest, sappiest, most tooth rotting smut. Orgasm denial. Fingering. I have been a fan of the game for YEARS, given it is the first episode of TLOU TV I am basing most of Joel’s character off game Joel. Gif credit unknown.

Tease: “… You’re not wearin’ anythin’ under that, are you?” He whispers.

The static firework-like display of spores ejecting from the corpse slumped against the opposite wall had captured your attention despite the delicate situation you found yourself in. The tendrils of fungus creep up the walls, painting them with streaks of muted peaches and reds, not unlike human flesh. It bursts from the fruiting body as violently as a bomb going off. You suppose that’s what it is, a bomb detonating slowly, killing those that breathe in the cordyceps spores.

Your gas mask sits tight on your face, digging into the skin of your nose to effectively create an airtight seal to prevent the malignant disease from entering your lungs and turning you from the inside out. Even through the dirtied visor of your mask, you can see that the corpse has fused to the ground and wall it was once sat up against, calcifying to the brick and plaster. It’s reaching its final stages of the infection: complete takeover, encroaching upon any space it can find. You didn’t doubt that in 6 months it would fill the whole room.

Despite the crawling sensation that itches across your skin at the idea of fungus creeping from your body in the cover of darkness, you couldn’t deny the morbid beauty of the scene before you. It oddly reminds you of different breeds of coral, like the kind that clings to the Great Barrier Reef. There are tan-coloured, fan-like protrusions, long strands of crimson and tubal fungi that bust directly from the chest of the deceased. Silvery dust spores glisten under the beam of your flashlight, giving the abandoned house you had entered an almost glittery effect.

“Oi. C’mon.” Your smuggling partner's Texan typically cold baritone cuts through the uneasy hush in the room. “We stand in this shithole any longer and we’ll be ambushed.”

Peering up from the putrefied body, you find Joel Miller gazing back at you, jerking his head to the door in a silent order to urge you out of the rotten room. Stepping away from the body, you walk towards the exit.

“How much longer?” You ask, studying his weary expression. The two of you had been travelling for hours, on red alert for infected or human danger alike. Outside of the quarantine zone was a death trap, and Joel always insisted you both never get too comfortable. Always be cautious.

“Half an hour tops,” Joel rumbles, holding the door open as you step through. His hands smear it with blood as you walk by, the ghost of his fingerprints leaving ribbons of crimson against the surface.

The blood had belonged to a medicine dealer called Cain. Joel had been working for him, the two of you smuggling the precious supplies into the quarantine zones in return for ration cards and weapons. You and Joel must have made ten, hell, fifteen runs for this crooked fuck, only for Cain to send the two of you on a dodgy mission. You’d both been jumped by the middlemen who were meant to hand off the medicine- when under duress, they admitted to ‘just following orders’.

It hadn’t taken you both long to find Cain and took even less time to dispatch him. Joel had taken his time and, as always, you turned your back on the shrieks of agony as Joel delivered justice. Though he had been particularly brutal this time around, the crunching of bones and cartilage was loud enough to be heard over the dying screams.

Said cries of pain and the extended period of torture had drawn the attention of several Runners and Clickers. They’d overrun the smuggling tunnels somehow, obstructing your return to the quarantine zone and safety. It had been the fight of your life, and the two of you were damn near out of ammunition and energy to battle the waves of infected.

“You okay?” You croak, almost afraid to speak into the silence between the two of you as you stumble through the darkness, navigating using only the dying light of Joel’s torch. A small reprieve from the onslaught of runners.

“Yeah,” he grunts, his eyes drifting over in your direction. “Wanna get home. Think I hurt my ankle back there, fighting the clicker.” If it hurts enough to admit it, it must be bad. Yet Joel maintains a strong pace, refusing to allow the pain to slow him down. He was stubborn like that, the two of you always arguing about his thick-headed disposition.

You nod in silence, eyes on the floor and focusing on not tripping over loose bricks despite running this smuggling tunnel with Joel for years. It was probably so familiar that you could walk it blindfolded. The walls of this small passage had seen the slow and subtle changes in the dynamics of your relationship.

It had seen the beginnings of your partnership and witnessed you constantly vying for Joel’s approval to extend the coalition you had fought so hard to convince him for. The cracks in the walls had observed the slow-growing kinship between the two of you, jokes told and three-sentence conversations shared. The shards of glass swept into the corners of the floor had heard the difficulty you both had continuing those discussions after you had stupidly gotten drunk on this old whiskey Joel had found, kissing him in the early hours of the morning when he finally carried you to bed.

That was a few weeks ago, and he still hadn’t been able to maintain eye contact with you for more than a few seconds. Like a child unable to look into his mother's eyes when telling a lie.

Grabbing ahold of the cold handle of the metal door ahead of you, you force it down to open it. The door jams on the opposite side, not moving despite putting all of your weight behind it to the point the edges of the handgrip leave a rectangular imprint in your palm.

“Joel?” You call him, “Gonna need you to open this.”

“Yes Ma’am,” he responds, the same way he always has. He steps forward, the soles of his boots scuffing the floor as he approaches.

Joel shifts his shoulder against the flat of the door, hooking the handle downwards with his calloused, bloody palm and uses his strength to push against the blockage. The hinges of the door strain under the pressure, squealing in the silence as Joel grits his teeth.

He grunts loudly, heaving the door so the obstruction falls away from the entrance, clattering to the floor with a racket that ricochets off the wall. It echoes all the way down the corridor. You freeze, the deafening sound causing the hair on your forearms to stand on end.

The chill on your skin only intensifies with the blood-curdling groans that sound from the blackness.

“Fuck-“ you stammer, Joel’s hand quick to settle between your shoulder blades to push you forward through the open door. Adrenaline courses through you like a live wire, singeing your extremities and curdling your stomach as Joel forces his way through the door and pulls the pipe from his backpack.

Amongst the panic, you still manage to note that a metal storage unit that had once been set against the wall had been tipped on its side, forcing the door shut. Joel had used it just this morning to grab ammo before heading out for the medicine drop. Someone had forced it over- didn’t take a genius to figure out who.

“Gonna have to run,” Joel pushes you forward, causing your feet to stumble as you desperately grasp for your rudimentary shiv. It slices your fingers open as you grab for it in the darkness, terror pushing your body forward in a sprint. You can hear the thudding of Joel’s boots just behind you, and the screams and wails of the infected as you chase you down the tight corridors.

It feels as though seconds and hours pass simultaneously, your lungs burning as you suck in gasps of air through your gas mask. Your muscles are seizing, cramping up and your fingers sting with the cuts that you sustained from your blade. Over the all-encompassing sound of shrieking from the creatures and your sharp, shakey inhale, you can hear Joel urging you forwards. “Go Go Go! You got it darlin’ keep goi-“

It hits you like a runaway freight train at top speed. Thundering into you, a Clicker knocks you from your feet with an utterly horrifying scream. Pain shoots up your ribcage as you slam into the uneven floor, a discarded glass bottle shattering beneath your body and cutting into you. You’re scrabbling with the beast, its nails digging into your flesh as you stab blindly at its shoulder, your other palm on its sternum to hold it away from your throat while you scream for Joel.

“Joel, fuck!” You sob in fear, the clickers jaws gnashing at your exposed jugular, growling and snapping. In the pitch blackness, you can smell the damp, mouldy scent weeping from the fungus on its skin, the metallic, bloody twang of human meat on its tongue that wafts over your face as it heaves its breath onto you.

Your biceps scream under the strain of its weight as you feel the fungal growths on its face lightly brush at your throat as the creature goes in for the kill. Just as you feel its teeth skim your flesh, a sickening crunch sounds, and a hot splatter of viscous blood drenches your face as Joel removes the blade of the shiv he had plunged into its skull.

“Fuck, y’alright?” His gruff voice shouts over the din the approaching runners make from down the hall. He doesn’t really give you the chance to answer him, grabbing ahold of your hand and wrenching you out from underneath the limp body of the Clicker before pulling you along in a sprint.

You sob with relief as you both turn the corner to the exit. Joel wastes no time, running ahead to force the door open so it’s ready when you approach. It swings open so easily as if it senses your desperation, and you launch yourself into the safety of the building that serves as an entrance to the tunnel. Joel isn’t far behind, slamming the door shut on the hoard and bolting it shut with a thick wooden plank that you’d both been using as a stopper.

The room swims, the image of the door swirling in your vision as you lean your back against the wall, taking deep, heaving breaths in what both was an attempt to feed oxygen back to your lungs and also to alert your body to the fact you were alive.

You barely have a moment to thank God when Joel is on you in an instant.

“Good Christ,” he heaves his gas mask off his face, blood-soaked palms taking ahold of your chin as his deep, earthy irises flit over you, searching for damage with a panicked expression. You note it’s the longest he’s looked at you in weeks. “Sure you’re okay? Jesus fuck, I thought-“

He’s twisting your head from side to side, checking your throat for bites. The infected are pounding on the secured metal door, but the noise is drowned out, faded as you watch Joel tend to you. You like him this close, you can see the freckles under his eyes. You’re not sure whether it’s the adrenaline of survival or if there was a crack in your mask and the spores had driven you crazy, but you are almost certain that Andromeda lies somewhere within the constellation of the minute spots of melanin.

“Joel,” you whisper, breathless for a whole other reason than the fact you just fought for your life, “Joel, I’m okay.”

You watch your partner hesitate for a moment, checking over you one last time before setting his lips in a firm line, his panicked eyes growing protective in an instant. “Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that again. Y’hear?”

Cross-legged in Joel’s bathtub, hours after escaping the tunnels, you use rainwater and a sponge to scrub the Clicker blood from your skin. Even now, years after the outbreak, you found yourself silently pining to the walls in the bathroom for hot, running water. They were no genie, and never responded to your wishes, but your wordless complaints often made you feel better as you scrubbed cold water over your body.

The droplets are tinted maroon as they run down your legs, seeping down the drain beneath you as you meticulously work each disgusting patch of blood from your skin. Despite telling Joel that the Clicker hadn’t bitten you, it still came as a palpable relief to scrub away the grime and not see a single mark in the crescent shape of teeth anywhere.

You did, however, have some brutal cuts across your ribs from falling into the glass bottle in the tunnel. They’re like lightning slashes, open and sore as you run a fresh washcloth over the wounds. At the very least, they were superficial and didn’t need stitches. The last thing you needed was to be burdensome right now.

Stepping out of the bath, you wrap yourself in a towel, scrubbing at your face with your sore hands. At least the slices on your fingers from your blade had stopped weeping blood. You’re sore, and mildly damaged, but otherwise alive. Alive. The proof is in the reflection that stares back at you when you glance in the bathroom mirror. Though- you certainly look as though you had just stared death in the face.

You open the door of the bathroom slowly, tentatively stepping into Joel’s bedroom. He’s sitting on the bed, slowly easing his boot from his sore ankle with a hiss of complaint. It does look painful, swelling until the definition in the bone was encroached upon by inflammation, and you have no doubt it’s been throbbing with pain inside his boot the entire journey back home.

“I think you’ll need to take a break for a while,” you gently urge Joel from your place in the doorway, who nods simply in return. Yes, he was stubborn, sometimes downright pigheaded, but he would never be stupid enough to go outside hindered by an injury. There were more than enough ration cards to tide you both over until Joel was fit enough to do another run safely.

“You can- uh, grab some’a my clothes from my closet, if you need,” he rumbles, moving to untie the boot on his other foot and avoiding your gaze. “Don’t want you to have’ta put your clothes back on. They’re covered in clicker brains.”

“Thanks, Joel,” you whisper, despite the shiver of disgust that runs down your spine. Slowly padding your bare feet across his wooden floor, you approach his closet. All of the shirts and flannels he owns are thread-bare, soft to the touch from wear. You grasp at a grey and black flannel, dropping the towel to the floor as you pull the comfortable clothing over your head.

Joel is silent, his back turned to you as you dress. Perhaps it’s from years of knowing him, or it’s seeing how tight the muscles of his back are through the fabric of his shirt, but you know something is amiss. The discontent rolls off him in waves.

Wordlessly, you climb onto the mattress, approaching Joel from behind. He seems to tense up further, even if momentarily before his muscles ease again. You stay seated firmly behind him, just outside of his peripheral vision as you attempt to breach the topic of conversation in a way that the stubborn mule of a man won’t shut down.

“Is it the pain?” You ask delicately, voice soft as a feather as you watch him feel his swollen ankle with the tips of his fingers.

“No. No, it ain’t, I just-“ he exhales sharply, as though he’s urging the words from his mouth, expelling them from his lungs. “No I just really thought that I’d lost you for a minute there, ‘n’ I just…” He trails off, leaving the unspoken words to admit what he couldn’t.

That he couldn’t bear to lose you.

You nod slowly, despite knowing he can’t see you, as the realisation sets in. He cares about you more than he shows, more than he lets on.

Softly, you lay your palm against his back, between his shoulder blades. In the low light of the bedroom, Joel’s silver hairs gleam as he turns his head around to look at you. You feel his nerves before you see them, feel the shaky exhale he lets out against your hand.

“I’m still here,” you whisper to him, capturing his gaze as you attempt to bring him down from the fear that must have seized him. You drag your palm down his back slowly, and in turn, he leans his body towards you at an achingly slow pace. Your stomach is doing somersaults thanks to the way he gazes at you, watching the nervous trail of your tongue over your lower lip.

“I know,” he answers back, his gruff voice so much softer sounding in this fragile moment. He inches towards you, and you can see the fine creases in the edges of his eyes, the constellations of his freckles even in the limited lighting. “I know I just-… Wanna feel it.”

It’s almost as though there’s a static moment, fizzling in the air as the tip of his nose brushes yours. He parts his lips softly, ghosting them over your own in a touch CW that’s barely there but sets your blood ablaze. His breath, exhaled through his nose, tickles your red-hot cheeks and you grip onto his t-shirt until your knuckles turn white. You wait for the plunge, for the powder keg of your heart lodged between your ribs to burst with his kiss.

Cautiously, Joel touches his lips to yours in a kiss that sparks up your spine. His lips are slightly chapped, his moustache and beard scraping gently against your skin as you lean into the kiss, letting out a soft moan of relief.

Your fingertips are tingling as you brush them up Joel’s neck, cupping his face to hold him there. He’s so gentle with you, like he’s afraid you’ll turn to dust in his hands. Joel has lived the past 20 years surviving, trying so desperately to stay alive. You’re not sure what that meant for him- the horrid things he had to do- but in this moment he’s so delicate with you, his knuckles brushing across your jaw as if those same fingers hadn’t squeezed triggers for two decades.

Working your own fingers into his curls, you feel the vibrations of Joel’s moans against your lips. It isn’t overtly sexual, it’s as though it’s a sound of comfort- of appreciation for being shown some tenderness. He responds to your touches by tracing his tongue over your lower lip, deepening the kiss and pulling you closer.

“Joel,” you whisper against his open mouth. He’s panting softly, hands moving to your hips to hold you in place like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. “Joel, lay back.”

“… Yes Ma’am,” he murmurs, a hint of a smile spreading against your lips. You find yourself relieved he didn’t argue, finding this nerve-wracking enough. It’s as though the two of you are inexperienced teenagers, fumbling with each other and fighting the butterflies in your guts. As brutal as the world you both fought to survive in was, there’s an innocence settling between you, nervous laughs shared as Joel lays back slowly against the pillows.

He gazes back at you as the crown of his head settles, holding his breath as he awaits your next move. Swallowing thickly, you watch Joel’s hand slowly reach for your knee. He swirls his thumb in uneven circles over your patella, gently coaxing you out of your shell. “You good, darlin’?”

“Yeah,” You whisper breathlessly, the soft and innocent touch leaving tingles in its wake. “Yeah ‘m fine.”

Joel, the hardened bastard that he is, doesn’t give much away. However, you see the edge of his lips lilt upwards at your less-than-convincing answer sliding his palm up the bare skin of your thighs. His hands are warm, calloused from hauling ass across the country and slicing open Clicker throats to protect you.

Swallowing thickly, you loop your thigh over his hip to straddle his waist. He watches you, his dark lashes dipping low as he witnesses you seat yourself across his abdomen. As you sit, the leather of Joel’s belt bites into the soft skin of your flesh.

“… You’re not wearin’ anythin’ under that, are you?” He whispers. It’s less of a question than it is a statement, those dark, mahogany eyes gazing up at you with a knowing expression. It’s intimidating, and you find yourself unable to answer with anything other than a slow shake of your head.

Joel responds with a low chuckle, tutting slightly as he brushes his palms further up your legs. They disappear under the worn fabric of his flannel, settling against your hip bones as his fingertips brush the curve of your bare ass.

Ever the gentleman, Joel stills his movements there and awaits your next orders, his eyelids heavy. You let a shaky breath escape your lips despite trying so hard to appear cool and collected, and you can practically feel the amusement emanating from the man beneath you.

Taking control, you trace the hem of Joel’s shirt and ease your fingers beneath it. Again, he’s warm to the touch, a human bonfire. It reminds you of the same level of comfort, the heat of the flames licking the skin of your cheeks in the cold autumnal air and providing relief from the numbing chill.

You don’t rush this, dragging the shirt from his body achingly slowly. Scars litter Joel’s skin, silver against the melanin. Sometimes large, wide and brutal across his ribs, others small and circular, barely noticeable. You notice them. You love them all.

Joel lifts his arms for you to raise the fabric over his head, and you reward him by pressing gentle kisses to the exposed skin of his neck. He hums softly at the gentle touches of your lips, his fingertips squeezing into the soft flesh of your hips. You’re almost certain he can feel the way you’re smiling.

“Mhm, Darlin’” he grumbles softly, using his hold on you to slowly grind your hips down over the soft flesh of his stomach, angled perfectly. It causes you both to stutter to a halt, your own pause caused by the spark of arousal that blooms through your abdomen at the friction to your clit.

Joel slowly uses one of his hands to grab the back of his flannel that you wear, sitting you up. His irises are inky black as he looks up at you, startling you into submission. Stoic, he says nothing, but looks pointedly down at his stomach to divert your attention. Uncertain, you follow his gaze.

It’s utterly mortifying. Across the tanned, freckled skin of his stomach is a silvery-pink scar. Following the same direction, a wet steak of your slick traces where Joel had pushed your hips down onto him. Shock and humiliation flood you all at once.

“Oh my God, Jo-! I’m so sorry-,” you stammer quickly, but Joel is grabbing ahold of the collar of his flannel with both hands, using very little of his impressive strength to pop the buttons on the stupid thing. The buttons go flying, rattling as they roll across the wooden floor and banging as they ping off the wardrobe. He exposes your breasts to his eyes, drinking in the view like he does whenever he sees a beautiful sunset while smuggling across the state. He stops and stares and takes it all in, just like he does with you.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry about,” he insists, not allowing you to feel embarrassed a moment longer as he uses his grip once again to push your hips against him. Perhaps it’s the shock of his unfiltered satisfaction, or the arousal he draws from you once again, but you don’t find yourself fighting with him. Instead, you lean your head back as he directs your body exactly where he wants it, pushing your cunt against him and drawing delicious swirls of pleasure throughout your abdomen.

“That’s it Darlin’. Just relax,” he murmurs, clearly pleased as you begin to match his movements by rolling your hips along with his touch. Your palms rest against his muscular pectorals, nails digging in whenever he catches your clit just right. Sometimes he hisses in pain, sometimes he groans in delight.

The muscles of your thighs clench against his waist as the walls of your cunt flutter around nothing. Your jaw is slack, your mouth falling open as you crease your brows together and feel the surge.

“Fuck,” you hear Joel curse, the gravel of his voice tipping you ever closer, “I can feel your pulse.” He sounds incredulous.

“D-Don’t-“ you gasp, teetering on the edge of an utterly devastating orgasm. Your eyes are squeezed shut, focusing on that feeling that barely holds the seams of your soul together when he shocks you completely, using his strength to lift your hips from him just as your release bubbles up.

A sound of utter anguish reaches your ears, and it takes a moment for the pulse of your heart in your ears to subside before you realise it came from you. Joel is chuckling, kissing your trembling hands in an uncharacteristically soft move. Though- you suppose all of this is out of character.

“Nuh-uh,” Joel chastises you gently, in an almost mocking tone. He’s enjoying seeing you fall to pieces for him, even if it is just because you look so pretty over him. “I want you to look at me. Want to see it in your eyes when you cum.”

“Joel,” you wail, in utter disbelief as he shakes his head at your complaint. He’s not listening. Instead, he draws tight circles on the inside of your thigh. His touch is wet, your slick drenching the inside of your legs and showing how desperate you are if your impassioned whining wasn’t enough to convince him of your need to come undone.

“Listen here, Darlin,” he orders in that same tone he uses when on supply runs, the kind that makes you warm and fuzzy, “I ain’t gonna ask you to do nothin’ for me. Want you to feel good. The least you can give me is that pretty face.”

You swallow again, like you’re parched and only he can quench your desperation. Silently, in bitter defeat, you resign to a nod.

“Yeah?” He urges, wanting to hear you say it.

“Yeah,” you choke out.

“Good girl.”

Again, you moan out like you’re in pain, Joel rewarding your vulnerability by slowly slipping two fingers into your drenched cunt. You’re so worked up, so slick he doesn’t need to open you up. Your cunt takes the intrusion of his digits greedily, and your thighs begin to shake at the intense relief it grants you.

Agonisingly slowly, Joel eases his fingers out of you before plunging them back in. He doesn’t need to go fast, the drawn-out drags of his fingertips against the walls of your cunt enough to work up your arousal, but you know that he’s setting this pace to watch the micro-expressions on your face.

Your brows pinch together, and your lips form subtle shapes that indicate his technique is working. He’s watching your pupils dilate, your nostrils flare as you inhale sharply when he touches that spot inside you that makes your vision go fuzzy.

“Joel,” you wheeze, the dexterity of his fingers driving you very quickly to the precipice of something soul-shattering. The pads of his finger focus on that spot that makes your body tremble, and you’re sobbing above him, tears streaking your face. “Oh God, Joel, I can’t last-“

“It’s okay,” he urges you, so calm that he almost appears lazy as he curls his fingers inside you. “You know what to do.”

The bastard hurls you over the edge of the cliff he’s built for you, pushing the pad of his thumb against your clit. The most intense burst of pleasure explodes beneath your skin, streaming through your blood vessels as your body crumbles inwards. You’re not sure if he’s even circling your clit, if he’s moving his fingers because it’s so visceral that you can’t see, can’t hear, don’t experience anything other than the liquid heat that drips through you.

When you come to, Joel is humming softly, stroking his palm over the back of your head and easing you down from the clouds he sent you to with a gentle touch. You’re lying across his chest, his arms seemingly having pulled you against him during your blinding relief. You’re sticky with sweat, as though you’re coated in honey.

Joel smells like the apocalypse. Like earth and mud that has been wet with rain. The sharp smell of gunpowder clings to his skin, having coated the shirt he wore only minutes before. There’s the musk of his sweat, the tang that sticks to his skin despite the rain that you had walked home in after leaving the tunnels. It had washed away the smell of the blood and the grime but left every part of Joel.

“Oh fuck,” you choke out, and Joel can’t help but chuckle at the way you sound so fucked out. He presses a gentle kiss to your temple as he soothes your aching muscles from their contractions.

The rise and fall of his chest ease you down from your heightened state of shock, and your partner slowly peels the destroyed flannel from your skin. The thin bed sheets float across your body to give you some privacy, Joel wanting you to feel comfortable and respected despite him utterly destroying you literally moments before.

“That good, mhmm?” It’s said with Joel’s typically flat intonation, but you know he’s amused.

“Shut up Joel,” you whisper, still breathless. God, had he just stolen the air from your lungs? It’s as though every functioning part of your body has stalled, taken up entirely with bliss.

“Hell, you’re stubborn,” he mumbles, and it’s like he puts a spark up your ass, body jolting into action.

“Excuse me?! I’m stubborn-?!”

END

🏷️ Taglist: @hoeneey @howaboutcastiel @welcometostayingawake @syrma-sensei @ethanhoewke @polaroidpetal @foxilayde @bookfrog242 @wh0reforbucknasty @zakizigekwe @ahookedheroespureheart @buckys-other-punk @anxious-sappho @alexloveskili @captainrexstan @astroboots @knights-power @southcrnbelle @niallsbunny @ofmortems @hold-our-destiny @xcatnapsx @vermillionwinter @stormkobra-5 @erenbissexual @alwritey-aphrodite @maggotzombie @deadpige0n @bakerstreethound @whatthehekko @moonnaught @cottagebunny9 @bit-dodgy-innit @peachyproserpina

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemicrofic November challenge.

There's Just One Who Could Make Me Stay

November Prompt: Guard | Word Count: 532 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Future Fic, Eddie Munson Lives, Returning Home, Reconnecting, Pre-Steddie

Steve stands along the baseline. The kids on the court look way younger than he remembers being at their age. Of course, he was fighting monsters, and that ages a man.

He's part of the old guard. 

Problem is, he still feels young. Forty-eight isn't old, but thirty years is a long time to be out of high school.

Tommy greeted him with excitement earlier. The jagged edges of their friendship smoothed over after years. King Steve resurrected, for one night only. Steve played along. He was happy to see him, but Steve definitely hasn't forgotten.

Lucas, Steve actually was happy to see. That championship will always be tainted, the last one Hawkins ever won. But Lucas deserved to be the master of ceremonies, the cutter of ribbons.

The new gym is dedicated, and it's weird to stand where the demolished old one stood, now long gone. Like so many things in Hawkins. It's not the town he grew up in, that's for damn sure. 

None of them stayed, they fled, one-by-one.

Outside, Steve sees his rental car tire is flat. The spare? Mostly flat. 

Goddamnit.

He digs in his wallet and finds his AAA card, and expects to be told that it'll be an hour or two. But there's surprisingly a local shop that covers AAA calls now, and they've dispatched them out.

Awesome. Steve hops up on the trunk of the car and watches the last of the crowd disperse. 

He hears the tow truck before he sees it. 

Sees the dark head of long hair fly upwards when the guy jumps out, both boots hitting the ground with a heavy thud. 

"Flat tire?" the guy hollers as he's pulling open the toolbox along the bed.

Steve stills.

"Eddie?"

And the head whips towards him, familiar, even if it's been nearly thirty years.

"Steve Harrington can't change a tire?" voice teasing, but delighted.

Steve laughs, crossing the distance.

"Spare is flat, too. How the hell are you? I didn't know you were back in town," Steve says, barreling forward, pulling Eddie off his feet.

It's been a long fucking time. 

"Yeah, enough of the old assholes have croaked that most of the townsfolk don't even remember my whole satanic murder spree," Eddie says dryly, hugging him back. "Wayne retired, and I moved home to keep him retired."

"You should have called. I'd have come to see you."

Helping pack Eddie up, only half-healed from his wounds, had been Steve's biggest what if in life. Eddie, the first to go.

Now, here he is.

Eddie smiles, face close, "I figured you had a whole life going."

"Divorced. Three times," Steve says, and Eddie laughs. There are wrinkles around his eyes, but he looks good. Really happy.

"Jesus Christ, Harrington. Don't you know the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over-and-over, expecting different results?"

"Yeah, yeah," Steve jaws back. And it's nice, the banter. He's missed it. 

They get down on the ground at the tire together. AAA might be paying Eddie to change it, but Steve can fucking help.

Tire changed, hands dirty, Steve looks at Eddie, "You wanna grab a beer? I'll buy."

"Hell yeah you will, Harrington."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and follow along with the fun! ❤️

[rookthebird]

s1 fic where Viktor goes to a doctor who's not his usual during an emergency, explains he needs an extra dose of medication because he needs to help his partner cut the ribbon on a Hexgate, and gets hit with the Martha Mitchell effect.

From Wikipedia: "The Martha Mitchell effect occurs when a medical professional labels a patient's accurate perception of real events as delusional, resulting in misdiagnosis." Martha Mitchell was a Watergate whistleblower who was deemed delusional; a modern equivalent might be Kam Brock, a woman who was hospitalized after a car crash, mentioned she was a banker and that Obama followed her on Twitter (both true) and got forcibly hospitalized for over a week, as well as many chronic illness patients who are hospitalized when doctors don't believe their symptoms (warning: harm to children at link)

So: Viktor stumbling into an urgent care clinic on the way to watch Jayce unveil their latest invention. He's slurring his words and his accent is stronger than usual (drunk, the doctor notes down,) he's pale, sweaty, and feels like he can't breathe (anxiety, the doctor writes,) and he's worried about how much pain he's in (ZAUNITE ADDICT, underlined twice in big block letters.)

viktor gets pissed. he didn't deal with everything he survived at the academy, in his career, and from other idiots to be treated like this. he starts playing the "respectfully, do you have any idea who I am," card because this is bullshit.

now he's in a cop van, coughing up blood. that's that medical gaslighting espresso. getting brought to a psychiatric ward in handcuffs because he said he was one of the founders of hextech? all right, he's not the one on the posters, and he doesn't give as many interviews, but surely this is a bit excessive.

meanwhile jayce is pacing backstage. the investors are urging him to say a few words, but he's like "I can't do this, not without Viktor here. He would never miss this- what if something happened to him?" he stalls for 10 minutes in front of an audience, watching every entrance to see if Viktor is able to make it. slowly, it becomes clearly that Viktor isn't coming. something clearly happened to him.

Jayce drops his notes and bolts.

He knows the exact route Viktor would need to take to get here and everywhere he might have stopped along the way. Bribing some children playing hopscotch in the street reveals that "the man with the strange walk went into the doctor's office, and then the Enforcers went in too!"

Jayce is about to make Vi look like the absolute fucking model of judgement and restraint.

[readychilledwine]

The Prettiest Fuck You

Summary - After the birth of Rhysand and Feyre's 3rd child, Tamlin sends a coded message with the help of his mate

Warnings - slight jealously, mentions of breeding, little IC slander, Tamlin is in a goofy mood

Prompt Day 3 - Mate/Flower Language

A/N - just a short little silly for @tamlinweek I'm so excited for the masterlist for today to pop up. I'm going to eat it all up. I fell in love with the idea of a fuck you bouquet after several reddit posts and a few on here, and Tamlin would seriously love to send one. I just know it.

Tamlin Masterlist

You blinked at Tamlin as you looked over the list of flowers that he had given you. Fox glove, yellow roses and carnations, Cyprus, babies breath, and marigolds?

Insincerity, congratulations, disappointment, death, and jealousy? You put the list down on your work table, silently hoping it would somehow magically disappear under the thousands of stems and ribbons from all the arrangements you had worked in today. “Tamlin-”

“Just do it.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed your nose, trying to convince you with that signature smile.

“Tam-” You wanted to object to what the bouquet said, even if you would be able to make it absolutely stunning.

“It's fine.” Both hands were on your face as he kissed you softly.

“Ta-”

“It will look beautiful. You make everything so beautiful, dearest.” You couldn't help the soft smile. His words were not a lie. You were the most sought-after florist to the 7 courts for a reason.

You shook it off, focuing again. “Tamlin, this is-”

“Perfect to congratulate them with!” He walked away from you, chuckling as he did. You had little choice. It was a done discussion.

Your mate wasn't a bitter male all the time. Life shined in those bright green eyes, and they were always full of wonder, amazement, love, joy. But the Lord and Lady of Night announcing the birth of their 3rd child and waiting for the praise and attention that was bound to come with it? That made Tamlin bitter, sick, angry.

He had been too stuck in himself, too trapped in years of trauma, to offer Feyre the life he had offered you. One safe from any duties you did not want. One safe from politics. One where you were free to give him a child at any point. One where a family was wanted, but in due time, instead of an expectation to prove your court was moving on.

You were not Tamlin's symbolic incubator. Your womb was not meant to be used to send a message. You were his wife, his love, the one he showered in red roses and baby's breath, a sign of his eternal love and devotion. You two would have children someday. You would have an army if he'd allow it. But for now, until this lingering bitterness passed, you two would just continue to learn and grow together.

You went back to the task at hand

Gathering the buds he had requested and inspecting each and every single one to ensure its perfection and beauty. If you were going to do this. You were going to do it so well that Rhysand would not come mist your mate and then trap you in that damned Stone City. Tamlin learned through you to speak through flowers when they were sent as gifts or placed in his home. He had learned to say congratulations, to say his sympathy, to say his love, to show support. He had learned a new form of expression through you, and as intricately laced and weaved the flowers he had picked into an arrangement, you realized you thought him too well.

The flowers were beautiful, varying shades of yellows, oranges, whites, reds, and you had mixed your favorite feather-like greens in. It seemed so innocent to anyone who didn't know what the flowers symbolized, the language they spoke. It said “Fuck you and die,” in the most beautiful way possible.

You signed as you picked the vase, enchanting everything to last and stamping the card with the sign of the Spring Court, a rose and thorns. You sent it, hugging yourself slightly before walking into your shared room. it was quiet behind that door, and when you opened it, you could not help but to smile.

Centered on your vanity sat a bouquet of White tulips, red roses, and red spider lily. You knew immediately who they were from, who had made the arrangement, and who may be missing her favorite flowers from her garden.

It was stunning. Shades of red and white mixed with greenery that it was so perfectly balanced. It was huge, occupying most of the corner it sat on. He had surrounded it with poetry and chocolates. "Tam," you took one of those soft roses in your hands, smelling that familiar scent and sighing so happily.

You jumped as arms went around your waist, and kiss was placed to the side of your head. “How did it turn out?” His voice was laced with pride over his own creation.

“Gorgeous. I wouldn't make it any other way. Regardless of what you wanted it to say.”

“Elain lives in Day now, right?” You hummed and nodded. “But she will come visit them, won't she?”

“Of course.”

“Perfect. Perfect. And how about your flowers? How did they turn out?” Your mate, so handsome and strong, tended to need those compliments, and you were eager to hand him praise.

You turned into him, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. “So beautiful. Thank you for including Spider Lilies. This has to be the most stunning arrangement you've made so far." You touched the spider lily, fingers lingering on the off shoots as you did.

“Growth and new beginnings,” he whispered the meaning to you and watched as you nodded, looking up at him through watering eyes.

“And purity and true love.”

“To symbolize us, y/n.”

“To symbolize us,” you repeated.

Rhysand placed the bouquet from Spring centered on his table. He always admired y/n's work. Yes, Elain did wonderful things with flowers, but centuries of practice and studying had allowed you to create masterpieces with the blink of an eye. He smiled before walking away. Leaving a stunned Elain and Lucien to silently laugh.

Her mate leaned into her ear, red hair falling over her shoulder. “He really out did himself with this one.”

Elain had tears forming, “She made it so beautiful.”

“Do we tell him?”

“No,” Elain fixed the flowers from where they had been resting on Rhysand's chest. “Let Tam have this. I have enjoyed him alive lately. His gardens are exquisite."

"You're exquisite," Lucien squeezed the now supple hips of his mate, loving their new plush. "We should really visit soon."

"We should."

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria

[laswells-ashtray]

KATE LASWELL AND CO BOARDGAME NIGHT. POSSIBLY DRINKING. MAYBE MARIJUANNA.

I'm saying Kate, her wife, John and Nik because Kate and John would never let the lads see them high.

Sarah insists that they play Game of Life because no one is getting through Monopoly if her stash is involved. They don't go your typical route and share a joint. No, Sarah likes baking so they have brownies.

It starts off fine, they're still a bit stiff around the shoulders. A little too professional for a board game. Nikolai and Sarah use their critical thinking skills and bring out a selection of various snacks before ordering pizza.

And then Kate starts smiling when she's reading out a card, she's flashing her pearly white teeth and Nikolai is half sure she doesn't know she's doing it. "Your pet goat wins a ribbon. Collect 120K from the bank."

It's a ridiculously unfunny card but the way John snickers makes Nikolai laugh and in the back of his mind Nikolai quickly realises that the brownies are kicking in. Sarah is still content and happy, no change in her.

"Pet goat?" John asks with far too much glee for something so simple.

"What kind of lesbian doesn't have a pet goat?" Sarah remarks, feigning offence.

Nikolai rolls his eyes and points to the board on the table. "She isn't a lesbian, she started off as a blue figure."

John had immediately claimed the blue car, Nik had taken the pink while no one was looking and it'd left the women to fight over who got the green car. Kate had won and coincidentally, Nikolai had pretended not to see how Sarah had offered her chest a feel.

"Lesbians can be blue, John. You English bigot." Kate retorts, barely biting back a laugh. The relaxed, almost giggly aura looks good on her. Nikolai has seen her during the hardest days of her career and he thinks she deserves as much happiness as she's feeling now. John might be his partner but Kate is one of his closest friends and he'd be lying if he said it didn't warm his heart to see the both of them so happy. Even if they're high as shit.

John only lets out a loud bark of laughter in response, sinking back into the couch cushions.

He watches as Sarah leans over and snatches a pack of Chips Ahoy from the table, tearing it open carelessly and shoving one in her mouth with a quite frankly pornographic moan that is hysterically funny to him. He briefly considers stealing one but John is slumped against his side and there's no way in Hell he can escape out from under him.

Kate looks back to her wife and then at the arrangement of snacks on the table before looking back to Sarah. "Hand me the Doritos."

Sarah does not have the grace to swallow the cookie before answering and it makes Nikolai chuckle. "Get them yourself."

"Give me the Doritos or I'll pinch you."

Sarah grabs the bag with a dramatic look of irritation. "Only because you'd pinch my tit."

Nikolai thinks John is half asleep with how quiet the other man is until someone knocks on the Laswell's front door, the undeniable joy on John's face is something he wishes he could photograph if he could remember where he sat his fucking phone.

The other man drags himself off of the couch and towards the front door with a pep in his step that Nikolai swears he's never seen before.

"Even walks like a gayboy." He hears Sarah mutter between cookies.

Kate breaks into a fit of giggles in response, pointing at John with a Dorito in hand as she tries to form words that just can't quite break through her laughter.

Nikolai would laugh if he wasn't too busy trying to kick off his boots without having to reach down and untie them.

The pizza boxes hit the table with a loud thud and before any of the three have a chance to react, John has already pinched the top one. "Dig in, arseholes."

[kingofthe-egirls]

When “It” Appears: LUFFY x Y/N (part 2)

series

(cw: sex for the first time, kissing, titty sucking, nipple play, rubber tongue, cunnilingus, blowjob, sex, creampie)

(a/n: orgasming to the sight of luffy's smile is everything)

"We're sleeping through all the days,

I'm acting like I don't see

Every ribbon you used to tie yourself to me

But my hips have missed your hips

So let's get to know the kicks,

Will you sway with me? Go astray with me

- "Sober" by Lorde

words: 2.9k

Luffy sprints across the deck with you in tow. His rubber arm stretches between you, and then wobble-snaps back when you catch up.

The door to his cabin is closed behind you, and as soon as it’s locked, you’re pressed against it. Luffy is in front of you, arms on either side of your face. You’re sweating, chest heaving. His hot breath tickles your face.

“Y/n, will you let me make you mine?” He asks, voice low. His thumb traces the soft hairs at your temple. You shiver, but don’t shy away. You swallow, and nod.

“Do you know what that means?” He asks, staring hard at you. His eyes are gray, and serious. Like a crow analyzing a lock. You want him to pick you up and pry you open. You want to be in his flock.

You want him to fuck you.

Slowly, you nod.

“It means I want to have sex with you,” you whisper, voice choked. You’ve never been this way before, never turned down this particular path. It’s always been too shady, or too twisty, or made your stomach turn. But not him.

No, he gives you butterflies.

Other boys give you headaches.

“I don’t know what’s different about you,” you say, as Luffy stares at you intensely. His red jacket is soft where the sleeve rests on your shoulder. His black pirate’s cloak falls heavy around you both. The ship rocks in the starry waves. He still strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“But I like you,” you say, cheeks hot and lips trembling, “You make me feel safe.”

Luffy’s face darkens, and he leans forward slowly to press his cheek against your nose. His lips are at your earlobe. “Thank you,” he whispers, his own voice trembling, “I want to make you feel safe.”

You wrap your arms around him, finally, and you kiss. Softer, warmer, and more intimate than in the basement of the ship. His lips move gently against yours, and one hand comes to cup your cheek. You melt into him, easily.

“Take me to bed,” you say, and he smirks. He leads you by one hand.

Slowly, carefully, he lays you down. Sits by your feet. Takes off his hat and sets it down at the corner of the mattress. The bed is messy, and unmade.

You snuggle back against the blankets, and breathe the smell of him in. It’s musky, obviously, but also cinnamon and salty-sweet. You grin sheepishly. “What do you wanna do with me?”

He wraps one hand around your ankle, and gives it a squeeze. “I’d like to make you cum, if you’ll let me.”

Heartbeat.

“Um,” you quietly cheep, “Yes please.”

****

You watch with shivers down your spine as Luffy carefully fits himself between your legs. He lies on his stomach, letting his weight press you into the mattress. Both of his strong arms are on either side of your head. He leans down, and presses a kiss to your lips.

He smiles.

Shy, you wrap your arms around his neck to bring his face closer to you. Luffy hums, nosing into your hair. He breathes in, deeply. "Ya smell good, y/n. Do I smell good?"

"Mhmm," you nod, carding your fingers through his hair. It's thick and silken, dark black as it tickles your cheek. His fingers fiddle with your belt loops. "Smells...like spices? Like chai."

He grins, happy about that, and sits up. "I've never had sex before," he says. He's staring at you like you're the X on a treasure map.

"Not even with Boa?" You ask, arching an eyebrow. You're well aware he spent two whole years a stone's throw from the world's capital of horny women. He snickers, swiping under his nose with his index finger. He looks so cute, like this.

"Not even with Boa," he reassures you, bending down to plant a kiss to your belly. It's covered by the stretchy fabric of your tank top, and you let him ride it up with strong fingers. His knuckles are bruised.

You squirm beneath his touch. "I've kissed boys before," you say, sheepish, "But that was usually so I could steal something."

He giggles, "That's my girl."

Fuck.

You whine, arching up into him. "Tired of waiting."

"Okay, okay!" Luffy strips your shirt the rest of the way off. Your tits splay out to either side, and Luffy hungrily reaches for them. His hands are soft, although calloused, as he palms at your breasts. He squishes them in his hands, tongue poking out between his lips. It feels weird, but also nice. To have his warmth on your skin. You poke his cheek.

"Stop looking at me like that," you tease, and he smiles sheepishly. He squirms in his seat, before laying down between your legs again. His lips find their way to your breasts, smacking kisses along the swell of them. His tongue flicks out at a hardened nipple, and you inhale sharply. It feels good.

"How's that?" he asks, curious. His eyes are like an owl's as he looks up at you through black lashes. You nod, steam pouring out of your ears.

"S'good," you whisper, voice pitchy. He snickers.

"Good."

So he leans back down, sucking the same nipple back into his mouth. His spit is sticky and warm, and it coats your skin as he drags his tongue to the other side of your chest. He licks slow, smooth circles over your areola, before nipping at the bud. It's sharp, and toothy, but Luffy's ministrations send heat to your legs–-to the space between them.

"Never had sex either," you confess, "But I like orgasms."

"Me too!" He chirps, lifting off of your tits for a second to breathe. "S'there a special way ya wan' me to try giving you one?"

You smile, fantasies sifting through your head faster than you can count. "Yes," you say, leaning up on your elbows as he kisses all around your breasts. "Lick my clit?"

"Okay!"

He sits back up, tugging at the waistband of your shorts. He pops the button before sliding the faded denim down your legs. He kicks his own shorts to the side, leaving his red cotton boxers on. You're not wearing panties, which makes him blush and you smile.

"Spread your legs," he murmurs, mouthing at the inside of your thigh. It tickles, his breath hot and steamy on your sensitive skin. He pushes your legs open, as you bare yourself completely for him. The cool air of his cabin sways across your exposed pussy, and you blush even harder than before. Luffy is staring, open mouthed.

He leans his head down, burying his face in the tuft of dark hair at your mound. He inhales, deeply. He lifts his head, eyes hazy and droopy like he's been drinking sake. "So fuckin' pretty f'me," he whispers, before lowering his head to lick at your pussy.

He swipes his tongue across your clit, experimentally. He kisses around your lower lips, sniffing you every so often and letting his eyes roll back at your scent. It's not long before he's plunging his tongue fully inside your cunt, licking and moaning as he fills you to the brim. Rubber feels good, like this.

"Luffy–!" You shriek, curling forward as he flattens his tongue against your special spot. It presses up harder, as Luffy's pace quickens. He reaches his arm around your hip to swipe at your clit with his third and fourth fingers.

Luffy laughs, loud and unabashed (and straight into your pussy) as he sends you over the edge into a sparkling river of climax.

"Sweetheart…," he drawls out, after he finally lets up on your fluttering slit. Your pussy aches at his absence, but at least it gives you time to breathe. You're sweating, sitting up on your elbows again. He stares at you, lips parted.

"Do that again."

So he does.

Luffy sticks three of his fingers inside you at once, and you gasp. Your head hits the pillow, and your whole body relaxes into his touch. He giggles, grinning like a madman, as he pumps you full of haki-hardened fingers. His digits flutter at your g-spot, almost too much, but he presses down on your lower abdomen as he makes you take it.

"Sweetheart," he says again, "Such a sweet thing f'me, ya know that?" He licks his lips again, still dripping with spit, before leaning down to suck on your clit.

He swipes his tongue over your rosebud, over and over again. It's like he's done this for years, like he's already spent hours mapping the pleasures your body craves, even though you've just started. Honestly?

He's too sexy for his own good.

You growl, shoving him off you with a harsh palm. He groans, complaining, but shuts up as soon as he sees you straddle him, switching positions. "Kitty?" He asks, as you tug down his boxer shorts. His cock is hard and aching, and it slaps his stomach as you release it. His drooling tip leaves a smear of precum on his lower abdomen, so you bend forward to lick it off. He gasps, a half-laugh, before he lets you push him onto his back against the pillows. He stares at you with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"My turn?" He asks, snarky.

You answer with a swirl of your tongue. His dick twitches against your lips, and now it's your turn to laugh. he sighs out an exasperated breath, smoothing a hand over his hair. "Fuck, y/n…," he says, staring at the ceiling, "Keep going?"

Gladly.

You sink your mouth down around his cock, pressing your tongue flat against his underside. Tastes like salt.

He swears, leaning his head back as his hips shudder and shake beneath your ministrations. He's heavy, and thick, and his cock isn't so clean… It smells like musk and tastes like sweat, but soon enough all you taste is spit.

Luffy is swearing and moaning, squirming underneath your touches. You drag your nails along his hips, leaving slight lines of red marks.

"Sooo fucking good--," he says, bucking his hips. His dick hits the roof of your mouth, and you choke. You spit his cock out, swallowing a mouthful of spit. He whines, but you stare up at him with a pout.

"Stop that," you say, wiping your mouth, "Hurts."

"Sorry," Luffy rasps, hand scruffing through his hair, "Just felt so good…"

He's staring at you with starry eyes, his lashes casting shadows on his squishy cheeks. His scar is crimson beneath the lamplight. You poke his thigh. "Stay still," you command, and he whines. He shifts his hips, swiveling them a bit, so you hold him down with both hands. "Stay still!" You insist, "Or I'm gonna choke!"

"Shishishi!" Luffy snickers, reaching down to scratch behind your ears. "Sorry, kitty. Stay still, promise." He grins, eyes squeezing shut like half-moons. He holds out his pinky, and you stick yours out to promise. He giggles, still breathless and sweaty.

"Sexy," you say, leaning forward for a kiss. He returns it, and deeply. "You're sexy."

He nips at your nose, and then bites your cheek. You squeal, shoving him away. "Stay still!" He snickers, but lays back down so you can continue his blowjob. You shake your head, snorting in laughter. "Silly, too."

"Shishi, ahh~!"

You swallow his cock, as much as you can, and his head hits the pillow as he lets out a long, scratchy groan. His dick twitches in your throat.

So you bob down faster, taking the rest of his shaft in your hand. You sort of twist a little, as you rise, and suck harder too. He squirms and groans, his hands twisted in your hair. He hisses out little praises, "so good, sweetheart, fuck princess I didn't know it could–nng–feel like this!!!"

Luffy shallowly thrusts his hips, which you can handle if you raise the back of your tongue. You let him hit the thick of your tongue, starting to thrust faster and harder. You gasp for breath, popping off him for a second. His cock throbs in midair, swollen and red as he pants for release. You swipe the back of your hand across your chin, and swiftly straddle his hips to start rubbing his cockhead at your entrance. You're sopping wet, and he can tell. Luffy whines, high pitched and scratchy.

"S'okay?" You ask, chest heaving. You're sweaty and flushed, shivering with excitement. Luffy squeezes your hips, and helps guide you onto his cock. You both hiss in unison at the very first sting of his cock pressing inside you. You both stop, breathing, until you nod and let Luffy start thrusting shallowly into you. He's stretching you out, but the sting fades away into soothing bliss as you stutter and gasp out half-sobbed moans.

"S'wet…," he rasps, hips slowing down. His thrusts become long and languid, dragging his length in and out of you so you can feel each inch and pulsing vein.

His breath hitches, as his hands sear upward over your skin to start grabbing at your breasts. He squeezes them, softly, as he lets you start bouncing on his cock yourself. His fingers pinch at your nipples, holding them in place as the rest of your breasts shake. It feels so intense--all these sensations sending sparkles through your veins.

He stretches out his tongue, slithering along his abdomen, until it starts flicking at your clit. You gasp, weirded out but somehow so turned on. His tongue tip is swift, flicking over your swollen clit in messy, sloppy circles.

His hands tighten around your hips.

“Luffy—!” You start, but he slaps your rear.

“S’captain, sweetheart. Say it again,” he grunts, thrusting up into you harder. You support yourself with your palms on his chest, as he jackhammers up into you. His cock feels so good as it bullies your cunt. You can feel yourself squeezing around him, so you do your best to breathe through the release.

“I’m cumming, captain—!” Your voice sounds faraway, squeaky and high-pitched. Are these really the sounds you make, all sobbed-out and raspy?

It doesn’t matter how you sound, all that matters is the sweat on Luffy’s brow as he squeezes his eyes shut in pleasure. You let yourself fall forward, his hips still snapping into you. Your cunt sounds lewd and wet, so you bury your face in Luffy’s neck.

He smells like him.

“So good,” he whispers, breath puffing over your ear. He wraps his arms around you, pressing hot kisses into your temple. He strokes one hand over your head, before holding it in place as he somehow speeds up even faster. His hips change their angle, suddenly hitting you hard and fast and deep. You cry out, another strangled moan of Luffy’s name.

“Captain—Luffy!”

He snickers maniacally into your hair, his breath all ragged and hoarse. “Wanna see you cum f’me,” he says, fisting in your hair. He tugs upward, forcing you to lift your head. He stares at your face, flushed and sweaty, as he’s still pounding hard into you from below. His eyebrow twitches. “Show me, pretty?”

So you gasp and moan, staring at your captain with fuzzy eyes. Tears slip down your cheeks—so intense—as he slows his pace to start really thrusting into you now. He hits it slow, making sure his tip hits the fucking deepest place it can go.

He grins.

Firecrackers explode beneath your skin, starting at your clit, and shimmer outward to your toes and fingertips.

“S’pretty,” he croons, his strong hand holding your hip in place as he fucks up into you. He’s still holding your head. “Lemme see whatcha look like when I cum inside.” His grin is manic, crooked, and so mischievous you think you could die. You squeak in surprise as he suddenly speeds up again, red roses blooming on his chest and face. His eyes glimmer black—his lips shine with spit. They’re parted, slightly, so soft.

His face contorts, eyes shut with his jaw set, as something spills up inside you. He slows his pace, thrusting twice, before he stills.

“Shit,” he breathes, melting backward into the bed. His limbs go slack, and he snores immediately. You slap his cheek, his cum slipping out between your legs. He snorts awake, so funny and ridiculous that you can’t help but laugh. “Shishishi,” he snickers, and you groan as you pop off his dick.

“Sorry,” he says, sheepish, “Was that fun?”

“So fun, Luffy.”

He frowns. “Captain, kitty!” He pokes your thigh with a pout. “Say it every time now?”

You stare at him, lips parted. He’s serious. You swallow, wondering what that makes you. So you nod.

“Yes, sir.”

He grins.

[sh4wty18]

hi! can you write a long fluffy Jake x reader?

this isn't long but it's tooth rotting fluff so that makes up for the length :P

call it what you want.

pairing: jake webber x reader

summary: it's your two year anniversary with jake, and you coincidentally bought each other the same gift.

cw: fluff, slight language

word count: 674 + not edited

---

Jake pulls a long, thin, rectangular box out of his now empty bag of gifts he’s gotten you for your two year anniversary. He always loved to spoil you, but birthdays and anniversaries were on another level. He never expected anything in return, he knew you were in two completely different financial situations, he just loved buying you gifts.

You had already opened several gift cards to your favorite stores (he would end up paying for whatever the gift card doesn’t cover, and he’d do it gladly), a couple of new jellycat plushies you had been eyeing, and some posters for your favorite bands and movies, but this box seemed to be the grand finale. 

Jake shakes his hands with excitement and giggles, “I’m so excited for this one!! Open it baby, open it now!” 

You can’t help but smile at his enormous, toothy grin. He was truly the sweetest person you’d ever met. You lean in and kiss his cheek, and he continues bobbing up and down with excitement. 

You slowly untie the bow on top of the box and pull off the satin ribbon. Inside the box lies a long silver chain with a small “J” charm at its center. 

You gasp, it’s minimalist, but pretty, and shows off the fact that you’re his. “Jake, it’s… it’s beautiful.” You had secretly been wanting a chain with his initial on it for months, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think of him every time you listened to Call It What You Want by Taylor Swift. 

“Do you like it? I’ve been hiding it for months!” Jake says proudly. 

“I LOVE it! It’s perfect, Jake. Really.” Now you’re the one who lets out a giggle, “But wait until you see what I got you.” 

You pull a similar rectangular box from your nightstand and hand it to him. He opens it carefully and his face lights up when he sees what’s inside. “No fucking way! We’re gonna be twins!!”

Inside his box lies a matching silver chain with a bigger charm at its center with your initial. You had ordered it for his anniversary gift months ago as well. It seems you two had the same idea. 

“I guess we both wanted the world to know who the other belongs to,” you smirk, and rest your hand on his thigh. “Can I help you put it on?”

He blushes and nods, while you remove the necklace from its case and fasten the clasp around his neck. It sits comfortably above his lock necklace, but it matches his aesthetic perfectly. “Gorgeous, as usual.” 

“Oh stop that,” Jake says in a silly southern accent, then adds, “let me help put yours on.”

He removes your necklace from its case and fastens it around your neck. You use your phone camera to admire it. “Jake, I love this so much. I still can’t believe we had the same idea!”

“We truly are meant to be,” He says with a definitive nod of his head, followed by a quick peck on your lips. He snaps a picture of you sporting his initial and quickly types out 2 years with this fool before adding it to his instagram story. 

You giggle and climb into his lap, wrapping your hands around his neck and making yourself comfortable. He grabs your waist with both hands and smiles up at you, “Hi.” 

“Hello,” you say, smirking again. 

“Whatcha doin’?” He asks sheepishly. 

“Hmm, kissin’ my boyfriend,” You respond, and connect your lips with his. You run your hand through his hair and he pulls your chest closer to his. You break away to kiss down his jawline and Jake giggles.

“You sure you’re just kissing your boyfriend?” He asks.

“Oh, I think we both know what I want.” You say, blushing. Two full years and he still made your stomach twist into knots. 

“Well don’t worry sweetheart, I want it too.” He tilts your chin back up to his mouth and breathes out against your lips, “Happy anniversary, baby.”

---

sorry for the lack of fics recently, i'm writing a book and have been focusing my energy into that. i hope you all enjoyed this! i've missed writing for jake, he's so babygirl <3

[blurredfloweryblood]

I'm not the best person to do analysis on Hannibal, mainly because it's complex and it has so many layers and fragments and I'm so afraid of looking like a dumbass.

But every time I rewatch the first season (I'm sorry it's my favorite season, I feel like a failure), I really thought that there was a hanging theme of self-preservation among all the other symbols and themes (again, not a big "aha!" moment just verbal vomit). Abigail capture bonding with Hannibal, as well as tucking her cards near her because she is in a complicated situation. She wants to live, she really does. Her father's shadow is behind her, a bigger monster is lurking, and the seven girls yell in her dreams. She just wants to be fucking free, live a fucking life. Bloodshed, gutting, deers or whatever.

Alana doesn't want to get close to Will. Her relationship with him has to remain distant and warm enough to be somewhat solid, but careful to not let it go astray. She wants to be his pillar, and remain focused.

Hannibal is fucking thrilled. He has met the perfect being in potential, the shaking of diving into violence, the lie of self-righteousness, the thrill of blood and the mind that connects, more than other minds can. The vision that can not only observe, but know. The only person that can dig his fingers into Hannibal's skin, and appreciate what it keeps underneath. Yet, it's not that he's afraid, but un-peeling himself requires time, and he can't wait, he's on his toes and he wants to reach but things are moving fast and leading him astray, waves pulling him under and up and left and right. He is deciphering and whispering and moving strings while being beckoned. He keeps himself well hidden, but Will can't stop moving in mysterious ways.

Will is pulled and pushed and pushing and pulling back, he holds both ends of the rope, fighting with himself and the unknown in his mind. Hiding from his nightmares, people and his own eyes, using the glasses to reflect back what could be seen by him back to the exterior. He doesn't want to see, he does and he doesn't, and the cycle is burning his head. Tiptoeing at the edge of a cliff, he's starting to play with the swan dive he could take. He's been whispered too, but he was already burning before. Maybe he was born like that, and little crooked, with a spider-ish heart that pumps darkness from his core. Not like a disease, but like the soon-to-be-shed body.

They are all showing their sharp edges, just trying to lightly warn the other to not get too close, or they will be cut. Just a tiny, itchy burn of the small path of blood. But in their distance and their toying and testing and stepping and pushing away, they leave parts uncovered, slipping. They allow a little of softening, a little moment of closeness between the lone moments when they are surrounded by themselves. And in those seconds of quiet and fleeting warmth, they are already retracting their claws.

So they break. Chipping away their fragments, they are conjoined by blood and the search of something to grab on when you're drowning. Turning and twisting and hovering. They reach others, or submerge themselves in the bitter ends of having let others have a little piece of their mind.

They come undone, in ribbons of sanity. But that shall be later. For now it's just the beginning. The peek to the abyss. It's the match to the grass. Not yet a forest fire. But we all know what shall happen. It's not the knowledge of what will happen. Is the how. How will they break? How will they loose their ends? Like raggedy clothes. They stand before is, complete and made.

But at the end, unrecognizable and yet distinct. Because you are what you are, even if you shed yourself. There are things we cling to, even when we are eating ourselves away.

[itsnathateasy]

Armin Week | Day 8 | SFW Prompts | Blind / Deaf Armin OR Birthday

word count: 1,9k warnings: a couple lingerie remarks author’s note: firstly, i couldn’t decide on armin planning your birthday or you planning his, so i did both! secondly, idk what it is with me and dj!connie?? i swear he sucks at it but baby boi loves mixing the tunes yk? i couldn’t deny him anything if i wanted to!

@armin-week-2024

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Armin plans your birthday…

To someone like Armin, birthdays are a big deal, his birthday is a big deal, your birthday is a big deal, his friends’ birthdays are a big deal. He’s the type of person who has his calendars and planners marked with all of his favourite people’s birthdays and he also marks when he should start preparing for them. You were so used to this habit of his, he always got so excited and took care of even minor details. He put so much effort into it all, it was so cute to watch him do all of these things and you often helped him too; running an errand concerning the gift or texting the birthday person to hang out so that you could distract them while Armin and the rest of the group decorated the house and baked the cake.

Even though you knew how Armin was, you never expected anything extravagant for your birthday. You knew he was probably up to something, but didn’t want to pry; his plans never failed, you had no reason to worry. He’d give you an amazing birthday. However, you did want to take care of some preparations on your own, so you decide to let him know”. You know it’s my birthday in two weeks, right?” “Oh! So close already! I didn’t realise”. This was weird of him to say but you decided to brush it off. He was probably just playing dumb to make the surprise even better. “I know, right? I just wanted to ask you to not take care of the cake or candles. I’ve something particular in mind, I’d like to organise it myself. Is that okay? I know you love baking cakes with Jean and Sasha”. “Yeah yeah, that’s totally fine! No need to worry!” he said as he gave you a big smile and awkwardly gave you a thumbs with both of his fists.

Now, that’s fishy.

The days went by, not a sign of your upcoming surprise. Armin had gotten so good at this, you couldn’t find any clues in your shared apartment. Where were all the decorations and baking ingredients? You even checked his spotify and he’d make no new playlists.

You couldn’t help but feel a bit disheartened. Was he not in the mood to plan your birthday? Was your birthday not important anymore? Were YOU not important anymore? Was he tired of you? Did he want to break up and hadn’t found it in him to break the news right before your special day? As those thoughts kept circling in your mind, you realised you couldn’t help it. If Armin wanted to break up with you, he’d have to own it and face you. But you weren’t going to simply let your most special day of the year go by. You’d plan your own birthday and Armin could piss off.

The next two days were hectic for you. You still had three days to go but there were simply too many things to take care of and your life was already busy as it was. On those days, you barely saw Armin, which totally broke your heart. He really should talk to you about it. Even if you were to break up, you deserved to know, right?

You unlocked the door to your apartment, hands full of bags with all that you needed for your party; snacks, decorations, disposable straws and table cloths, ribbons and cards to write to your friends for their presents. Your phone was buzzing all day with texts of your friends that accepted your invitation and said they’d be there. Armin could never plan this as good as you could. As you managed to squeeze through your front door, you realised the apartment was completely dark, a sign that Armin hadn’t been home at all, or at least the kitchen lights would be on. Armin wasn’t home much these days either. Where was he even? What kept him this busy after work? “Ugh, honestly, fuck him. It’s my birthday after all!” you said aloud. While still setting the bags on the kitchen table and turning on the lights with your shoulder, the apartment lit up and you heard honks and popping noises, balloons flew around and all of your friends revealed themselves from behind your furniture, exclaiming “HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N” at the top of their lungs.

“What is going on you guys? It’s still three days until my birthday!”

They all rushed to hug and kiss you, handing you your presents. You were quickly holding a stack of about ten boxes and a few bags were awkwardly hanging from your hands. They all looked so happy though, Eren quickly turned the music on, Mikasa took a birthday cake - the birthday cake YOU’D ordered yourself! - out of your fridge and started planting those fancy silver candles you’d been desperate to find in it. Armin walked towards you and helped you by freeing your hands and putting all those gifts back on the floor.

“You didn’t seriously thought I’d forgotten your birthday, did you?”

“Armin, I thought you were breaking up with me, I was so depressed. Why are we celebrating my birthday this early?”

“Because you were all over my ass y/n, searching for your present and wanting to get this and that on your own. If I took any longer, it wouldn’t have been a surprise” he explained with a half smile.

“Armin Arlert, you’re the brightest man alive”. You let him pull you closer into his arms, relaxing in his embrace. “Happy birthday love” he said, planting a kiss on your forehead and handing you your present.

Needless to say the party was a massive blast, everyone had so much fun! (Even though Connie wanted to make himself the dj). It was the best birthday and it being a bit early wasn’t even a problem anymore. This only meant Armin had probably something even greater planned for the two of you for the actual date.

-after the party was over, in the midst of picking up rubbish off of the floor-

“Wait, did you really think I was breaking up with you y/n!?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You plan Armin’s birthday…

“No Eren, YOU need to be the one to hang out with him! Besides, you’re hanging out together so often, he won’t even suspect! No, I can’t ask Historia to hang out with him out of the blue! Eren! I don’t even care! Figure it out! He’s your best friend!” you said and hang up on Eren. The trouble this boy was giving you. You and Mikasa were practically working yourselves overtime in order to plan Armin a surprise birthday party and Eren kept not doing his part of the preparations. Maybe you should just drop the subject, as he was being extremely unreliable. Whatever you two had him prepare these past two weeks, he’d do it wrong, you were starting to think it was deliberate.

“I’m sure he means nothing by it but you know Eren. He’s like this” Mikasa admitted with a sigh. “I’ll do my best to help you. Too bad Armin can’t help organise his own birthday, right? He’s so good at making things work”. She readjusted the bags in her hands, balancing them all, trying not to have anything fall on the ground.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you Mikasa. Sorry for dragging you to the shops with me on your day off!”

“No worries at all. Armin is worth all of this and more. I’m glad we’re planning this together!” she said and smiled at you brightly. “Let’s just leave all of our stuff at the venue. That way he won’t know what we’re planning. Do you think he suspects anything?”

“I’d be damned if hasn’t figured it all out already!” You felt your phone buzzing in your front pocket. “Oh wait. That’s him! Be quiet!”

“Hey there Armeen! What’s up?”

“Please don’t perpetuate this joke y/n!” he said laughing. “I was just curious, where’ve you been? I thought we were hanging out tonight?”

Shit. Shit shit shit. With this and that about Armin’s birthday, you’d totally forgotten you’d lied about hanging out with him. “I ugh… I’m out with Mikasa. Shopping. Uh… I found some reeeally nice lingerie you might like so wait for me? I’m sorry I’m late!”

“Okay, sure! Want me to bake up those chocolate croissants you bought the other day?”

“You’re seriously the best, Armin! Let me know if you want me to pick up anything on the way home!”

“Will do! See you later love!”

“Y/n we haven’t bought any lingerie. What are you going to tell him now? He’ll suspect stuff if you start babbling excuses”.

“We’re so doomed Mikasa… Let’s go back to the grocery store and buy one of those candy thong thingies? Then I can say I meant it as a prank or something…

-a few days later, at the venue-

“We’ll be there soon y/n. I lured him out by saying you were running late and had told Mikasa, who then told me. I think he bought it! I’ll pretend to be driving by your office building and then I’ll head straight to the venue.” Eren explained.

“Thank you, Eren, you’ve done great! Make sure to signal Mikasa when you’re about to arrive!”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got this! Gotta go, later!” he said and hang up abruptly.

“Where do I put this y/n?” Sasha asked and showed you one of the presents.

“Along with the rest of the gifts Sasha, on the big pile YOU built, remember? Why are you panicking?” you gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

“It’s too much y/n! How can YOU not panic???” Sasha had literally been running around like crazy for the past thirty minutes or so.

“I would, but you guys have helped me out so much! Oh wait, this is a text from Mikasa”. You turned your phone screen towards Sasha.

“They’re a few minutes away” Sasha read aloud. “Everyone, positions!”

The commotion grew and grew until you were all at your assigned places. Historia, disguised as a security guard, by the front door, Connie on the dj platform (he insisted!) and the rest of you waiting in the main area, hands filled with confetti and balloons ready to be thrown up in the air.

“And as I was saying, this club is the real deal Armin, you have to see the dance floor”

“What are we even doing here Eren? I’m sure y/n will be worried sick if she doesn’t find me at home. We were supposed to spend my birthday together, just the two of us. Why did you have to drag me all the way here and-”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARMIN!” Everyone shouted in unison. Connie started playing his music, everyone was hugging Armin and wishing him the happiest of birthdays, Historia let some more of Armin’s friends inside the venue and (finally) dropped her disguise to join into the hugging. Armin was all flushed and smiled so so bright, he couldn’t believe they’d all gathered up to organise him a massive birthday party!

“Honestly guys, thank you so much! This is huge! How many people have you invited?”

“The real mastermind behind all this is y/n! She planned the whole thing!” Eren said as he shooed Armin towards you.

Cupping your face in his hands he said “Guess the wine and charcuterie will’ve to wait, right?” and then kissed you on the lips.

“Happy Birthday… Armeen! I love you so much”, you chuckled into the kiss.

“I love you too y/n”

-later, while dancing-

“And, y/n, did you really buy that lingerie you were talking about the other day?”

Your face dropped at this reminder. How can you even admit that it’s a candy thong!?

“Well, about that…”

[feartoxinjelloshot]

As you've mentioned before, your Hatter isn't actually human, so the question is what exactly are they?

And are they wearing a human disguise/occupying a human (similar to Joker possessing Jay(?) Doe to use as their vessel), or did they create/find their own body to control? I'm so interested in your Mad Hatter!

short answer: the hatter's body is made of sticks and other debris - long answer: sooooooo its complicated. because. part of my thesis with the hatter/the joker/all those other guys is that their origins are supposed to be unexplained on purpose to keep the atmosphere and narrative of the story intact - i don't want to get too scientific with it or else it loses the kind of ambiguously grounded cosmic-horror qualities that i am aiming for - BUT i fucking love specbio and worldbuilding so there is SOME stuff that i legitimately just couldn't keep myself away from. so the gist of it is that the hatter could be considered a "subspecies" of the type of parasitic entity that the joker is; they both feed off of specific subtypes of human reaction but while the joker has to take a human vessel to interact with the world, the hatter's species are mimics - when he arrived on earth he happened to be near a copy of alice in wonderland, which is why his personality and beliefs revolve around it. and as i stated in the beginning his body is actually just made out of, well, basically trash. sticks, pencil sheddings, playing cards, book pages, empty tape rolls, plastics, ribbons, et cetera et cetera. but because of his convoluted looney-tunes denial of his own inhumanity, he doesn't actually know this about himself. if he was damaged (see fig. below) he would try to rationalize it as something being done to him rather than his actual insides being exposed. if he was pressured enough on the subject he would probably have some kind of mental breakdown over it. poor guy

EDIT: ALMOST FORGOT TO ADD as you can probably tell from the image this was influenced visually by bee and puppycat! i've always loved the colorful robot aesthetics in that show and thought it worked well w/ the hatter

[asterias-record-shop]

What about 8 and 14 with spoiled rich boy and Finnick?

—𓆩[men like him]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - MODERN AU – Rich Boy! Sugar Daddy! Finnick Odair x Sugar Baby! College Student! Fem! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, maybe some angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 4.0K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - The biggest rule about a sugar daddy-baby relationship is that you can’t gain feelings, ever. Never fall in love. Finnick was the one to break that rule - not you, sadly, as much as he wanted you to - and since then, he’s been trying to get you to fall in love with him too. But obviously, as a sugar baby, you’re doing something right by hiding your true feelings from your sugar daddy who also has to be fine as hell.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - foul language & cursing || sugar daddy-baby relationship || proposal || outside sex || but he still got you a bed || oral || unprotected sex || raw sex || creampie || multiple orgasms || nipple stimulation || vibrating panties || clit stimulation || biting ||

“Did you like what I got for you?” Finnick jumped on his bed, smiling as he slipped an Airpod into his ear. It had taken him days to pick this lingerie out for you, the white fabric that he thought would look fucking amazing under a wedding dress.

To be honest, yes, it might’ve seemed like he was moving a little too fast, but you both have known each other since you spilled coffee all over him four years ago. In turn, you both started talking and you told him about all of the financial problems you were having, which then started what your relationship was now. It had been four years, and personally, he thought that his feelings were justified.

“I just got home,” you responded, smiling when you saw the white box wrapped in red ribbon on your doorstep along with a bouquet of red roses and a box of your favorite candy. “But I’m pretty excited to open it.”

“You should open it up,” Finnick responded, grabbing the crystal glass full of liquor he had been nursing on for a while. “And send me a picture of you wearing it.”

“Oh, so it’s something I can wear, hm?” You tease playfully, putting him on speaker as you go to your room and slowly close the door. “Just something I can wear, or is there something else in there for me too?”

You remembered that time he sent you a set of lingerie with a dildo shaped in the form of his cock, ordering you to send him a video of you using it to get off while he was on a trip in Crete. Oh, you still had that purple dildo in your closet inside the box of Louboutin that previously held the red bottoms that now lined your shelf, of course added on with more pairs and limited edition designer shoes anywhere from Nike Airs to more sophisticated Jimmy Choos.

“There’s definitely something else for you in there,” Finnick smirked, smiling when he thought about the promise ring he put in there. It wasn’t obvious that it was a promise ring, or a form of one, but it was the first step in his makeshift form of confessing his love for you. “Not anything dirty though, Y/N, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Oh you wanted to sob when you heard him say your name. To him, you were always doll, angel, love — anything that could be used as a term of a sweet, classic term of endearment, it was you. He had been calling you your name - your real name - way too often these past few months.

“That would be the first time, Finnick, you can’t blame me for thinking you sent something dirty,” you respond, opening it with a gasp. The lingerie was so meant to be worn under a wedding dress, and the velvet box at the bottom made you reach forward slowly, taking the box first.

He was silent as he heard the slow snap of the box, his hand swirling around the glass of liquor, his other hand nervously shaking back and forth. He was nervous, he truly was, but for fucks sake, would you just talk?

“Holy shit, Finnick,” you whispered, breathless as you stare at the ring with a diamond bigger than you’d ever seen before in your life. “Th-That… that’s a big rock.”

“It’s been in my family for years,” Finnick responded, clearing his throat softly. “Do you like it?”

How could you not like it? It was beautiful, a band of white gold that was studded with diamonds and moonstone, the large marquise-cut diamond on the center of the band with small moonstones lining the bottom round area.

“Y/N?”

“Y-Yeah, I like it,” you whisper, inhaling sharply as you stare at the new diamond studded at the bottom, seemingly to cover the new weld. “D-Did you get it resized?”

“Yeah,” Finnick said immediately, inhaling slightly. “It fits, right?”

“Wh-What finger?”

“Your ring finger. Left hand.”

You gasped as you slowly pulled it onto your finger, inhaling deeply. Fuck, why did it have to be so pretty?

“Does it fit?”

You inhale deeply, nodding. “Y-Yeah, it does.”

You look closer inside the box, trying to see if there was anything else before you heard his voice once again. “There’s one more thing in there, my love.”

You nodded, slowly lifting up the lingerie and starting to take off your shirt. “Is this your way of proposing?”

He goes silent, clearing his throat as he stares down at the now diluted liquor. “Do you have any classes today?”

He completely ignored your question, making you inhale, nodding. You couldn’t lie to him, not now. “Y-Yes, I do.”

“I’ll pick you up, wear this underneath. You’re in the West building today? We’ll have lunch afterwards,” Finnick said, already thinking about the seven course meal he told his chef to make, thinking about how you said it was always a dream of yours to have one of those special courses. “Sounds good?”

“I-I uhm…” you whisper, shaking your head. “I have… I have a project I have to work on with my friend.”

Finnick starts to sit up, listening to the way your voice shook slightly. “Isn’t it barely the second week?”

He remembered you saying that it was a pretty easy class, and that you were actually excited because the teacher seemed really funny and laid back. You never mentioned anything about a project.

“M-My professor really just wants to get into it,” you respond, fixing the lingerie on your body with a deep inhale. “Can we have lunch another time? I’ll send you a picture of me in this beautiful lingerie, okay? And a nice video later. I’m going to be late, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Y/N,” his voice makes you shiver as your finger hovers over the decline button, Finnick exhaling loudly. “I… I want to see you. We need to talk.”

“We can talk tomorrow, I love you, bye!” The ‘I love you’ was a complete slip, leaving Finick smiling widely as he grabbed his keys.

He was so going to meet you at school.

As you walked down the sidewalk next to the courtyard, you truly regretted your life choices, especially as Emily laughed next to you.

“You’re turning down your sugar daddy because he’s in love with you?! He literally just indirectly proposed!” Emily said, looking over at you. “Why?”

“Because he’s… it’s Finnick Odair.”

Emily stopped, inhaling deeply. “Y-You… your sugar daddy is the one planned to inherit the Odair fortune and the multi-billion dollar franchise of that fishing enterprise?”

“Fishing, hunting, gold mining,” you mumble, shaking your head. “Gold mining is from his mother’s side though.”

“So why isn’t this like your dream come true?” Emily looked over at you as you played with the strap of your backpack. “You’re in love with him too, aren’t you? Or, it always seemed like you were.”

“I-I…” you whisper, inhaling deeply. “I’m in love with what we could be, you know? He… he’s always had that reputation of dating models and heiresses and… not students who are drowning in student debt.”

“That he paid,” Emily filled in, raising a brow. “Why don’t you just… go along with it? Or end it? What’s the point of feeding into it if you’re not going to be able to cut the line?”

You laughed at her stupid comparison, shaking your head. “Because deep down, I want it to be real. Men like him… they always want something, and as much as I’m hoping it’s me, it’s probably just… part of me, you know? Not all of me. As much as I want him to be the man I could have a family with, he’s just the man that pays for sex.”

“But you’ve thought about it,” Emily fills in, tilting her head. “Having a family with him.”

You smiled, humming. “Yeah. Yeah, I have. It just… won’t work out that way.”

She paused, looking over at you. “Are you sure about that?”

You look up where her eyes were trained, a slight smile settling on your lips when you saw Finnick leaning on his Audi r8, sunglasses on and dressed in a dashing gray suit as he stared down at his phone, obviously waiting for you.

“Fucking bastard.”

“Go get him, girly!” She pushed you forward, the sound making Finnick look up, smiling as he stood up straight and threw his phone inside the open window as he started walking toward you.

You could feel your cheeks heat up, inhaling as he met you in the middle, his hands holding your hips as he slowly pulled you into his chest. You smiled, your hands going around his shoulders, humming as he cupped your face and pulled you up for a firm kiss. “How was your day, my love?”

You hummed, smiling up at him as you stroked his cheeks. “It was good.”

“Yeah? Work a bit on your project?” He smiled down at you, raising a brow as you sighed heavily.

“I hate that you’re so smart.”

“I didn’t graduate from an ivy for nothing.”

“Oh yes, just flex your high education on a poor commoner like me.”

“I told you that I could’ve gotten you into any school you wanted me to. It wouldn’t have been hard.”

You hummed, shaking your head. “No, don’t worry,” you whisper, tugging on his suit jacket with a smile. “I like it here. I love it here.”

Finnick smiled, taking your hand and leading you back to his car, opening the door for you. “Well then, here you’ll stay,” he smiled widely at you, leaning down into the car to press a kiss to your lips. “You’re sitting on my phone, you know my password if you want to disconnect it or put on some music.”

You smiled, nodding as you lifted yourself up when he went around the car, easily unlocking his phone and scrolling through his music, smiling as you put on your favorite song. He quickly got in the car, easily taking the car out of park before revving the engine to watch you smile and speeding off.

He reached over the center console, holding your thigh making you set down his phone, a laugh falling from his lips when he saw the game Bubble Witch blaring on his screen. “I still cannot believe you downloaded that game on my phone.”

“I’m on level 105! I leveled up my house and everything,” you said, giggling as he squeezed your thigh. “Hey, you said you wanted to talk about something, right? What was it?”

Finnick’s smile faltered, panic settling at the pit of his stomach as he stopped at a red light. “I-I wanted to talk to you about o-our… relationship.”

You inhaled sharply, nodding. This was bound to happen at some point, right? “Right, okay.”

“I-I just…” he paused, looking over at you. “We should finish talking about this at my house, okay?”

You nodded, slightly dazed as the light turned green and . “Yes, whatever you say.”

He inhaled, shaking his head as he squeezed your thigh again. At the beginning of your relationship, it was like this, firm answers and stiff movements. He hated it, his hand squeezing your thigh as he smiled over at you. “I have a surprise for you when we get to my house, you’re going to love it.”

You looked over at him, confused. “Why would you have a surprise for me if you’re going to end this?”

He swerved at your question, a yelp leaving your mouth as your hand flew to grip his wrist, Finnick gasping as he went back on the road. “Who the fuck said I’m ending this?”

“I-I thought… I thought that that was what you were doing.”

“What?! No!” He yelled, pulling his hand from your thigh to cover his mouth, groaning as he rubbed his jaw. “D-Do you… want to end it?”

“I-I just…” you say, shaking your head. “I don’t… I don’t, but I just… I don’t know what to do after this. What we would do later on.”

“Get married,” he said, swallowing loudly. “Have kids. Three of them.”

“Two,” you say, swallowing as you look over at him, eyes watering. “Two boys.”

“Two boys then,” he said, smiling widely as you pushed your hand into his. “Two boys, my love.”

“Finnick?”

“Yes darling?”

“I love you,” you whispered, gasping as he turned onto a gravel road, a large gate with some sort of booth outside of it. “Holy shit.”

He laughed as he rolled down his window, smiling at the guard as the gates opened, Finnick pulling forward as he squeezed his hand. “Can’t believe it’s taken me so long to bring you here.”

You don’t respond, staring up at his large house, the bricks just fucking beautiful with white pillars and everything that makes a house perfect there. You don’t notice you stopped before you both even got to the driveway, and when you do, Finnick’s already out of the car and opening the door for you.

“Finnick? What’s going on?”

“You’ll see,” he smiled, taking your hand and leading you out, your brow ruffling when you saw a path of your favorite flower leading down part of the lawn. “Just come on.”

Slowly, he pulled you across his property, watching as you slowly picked up gifts that he picked out for you to find. They ranged from jewelry to lingerie to clothes and shoes, but you still couldn’t stop thinking about where he was leading you, but you both soon enough stopped at a white painted gazebo in front of a large lake.

You gasped, Finnick slowly helping you out your stuff down before guiding you to the gazebo, a large bed in the center with another exit that led down to the lake.

“Y/N, you asked what we’re going to do next,” Finnick said, slowly kneeling down in front of you as he took your hands. “We’ve known each other for four years. Our relationship might not’ve been been ideal, but my feelings for you are real. Let’s get married, fuck, let’s get married right now-”

He was forced into silence as you bent down, cupping his face as he groaned against your lips. “Yes. For fucks sake, yes.”

He laughed, nodding as he held your face with one hand, the other pushing into his slacks as you started to tug off his suit jacket. Finnick struggled to stand, cursing as you pushed his hair back, slowly straightening the farther he stood up. He groaned against your lips, slick tongue pushing into your mouth as he grabbed your left hand, a snap making you attempt to pull away before his other hand pulled you closer.

His tongue swirled around yours, distracting you as he slipped another ring onto your finger, a groan falling from your lips as you continued to try and pull away. Sex with Finnick was always like this, hot and dirty and quite literally mind blowing, but this was different. His touch was different, filled with a different kind of passion, his tongue absolutely drilling into the back of your throat as he slowly pushed you back.

You gasped as the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed, gasping as he finally pulled away. You take the chance to breathe in deeply, collecting yourself and your jumbled thoughts before you look back onto the bed, laughing. “You want us to have sex here, don’t you?”

“Well I wouldn’t have put a bed if I didn’t.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, smiling as you pulled him in for another kiss, his hands already tugging off the jacket you attempted to take off earlier. His kiss was soft this time, but nothing short of passionate as he pushed you back against the bed, pulling away only to throw his suit jacket to the side. He watched as you quickly took off your shirt, groaning when he saw the white lingerie he got you.

“You still wore it?”

“I was going to send you a video,” you responded, shrugging as he pushed his hand into his pocket and showed you a small remote. “What’s that?”

“Just a remote,” he responds with a lazy grin, kicking off his shoes and socks as he takes off his tie and shirt. “A nice… perfect remote.”

You gasped when the quick movements that started against your cunt shocked you, a loud uncontrollable moan coming from your mouth making you rush up to cover it before he caught your wrist. “Ah ah,” he says, smiling as he pressed a finger to your chin. “No one can hear you here. You can be as loud as you want, my love, and no one will hear you. I don’t want you to hold back any moans with me, ever. Do you understand?”

“Y-Yes!” You screamed out, groaning as you threw your head back, whimpering as he pushed his slack covered knee against your pelvis to press the vibrating panties into that perfect spot against your pelvis.

You whined loudly, the vibrations against your cunt as he moved his knee a little lower to press it against your entrance. It makes you groan, tilting your head back as his mouth pressed firm kisses to your neck. “I’m gonna keep this pretty skirt on too… and these heels… gonna love feeling them against my back when your legs are over my shoulders.”

You choked, using your other hand to try and cover your mouth before he caught your other hand. “Don’t start with me, Y/N. Better hear those moans falling from your lips or I’m going to stop.”

You nodded, gasping as he put more weight on his knee but not enough to hurt you, just enough to push the vibrations into the entrance of your cunt. It makes you whine, his mouth pressing against your neck again as his hands hold your thighs to wrap them around his thighs. You gasped, the new angle surprising as his hands moved to your waist.

The vibrations were too much, stomach twisting as your hips buck uncontrollably into his knee, whimpering as his tongue teased your mouth, grazing over the tip of yours before sliding into the back of your mouth. His hands grope at your tits, warm fingers grazing over your skin in the absent areas of the lingerie, the vibrations against his knee making his leg twitch.

That was the perfect movement to make your stomach clench, a loud groan falling from your lips as you bucked your hips into his, desperate to get the vibrations to that perfect spot. Your clit felt numb until he pushed his knee closer to your cunt, a groan falling from your lips as your hands attempted to tug on his grip, one hand easily binding your wrists together as you squirm underneath him.

“Y-You… you’re being mean,” you whined, his knee pulling away slightly with each buck of your hips. “Pl-Please… please, I want to cum, please Finnick.”

He hummed, teasingly pushing his knee rougher into your cunt, watching your face pinch up in delicious pain and your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him there. He watched your mouth fall open, eyes squeezing tight as you groaned loudly, lips quivering as you tried to control your breathing.

“You still stretched out from using that toy last night, darling? Or do you want to keep getting off on my knee?”

“Fuck, you’re such an asshole.”

Oh, but you loved this asshole. Every part of him, and this man who pulled his knee away from your cunt and stood up, slipping off his slacks as you moved to lay on your stomach.

“What are you doing?” Finnick asked, confused as he came behind you, kissing your ankle as he slipped off your heels and his hands go to your waist to pull of your skirt.

“Fuck me from behind,” you respond, smiling as you laid on the bed. “I’ve had a rough day, you can give me a back massage while you’re at it.”

He laughed, slowly straddling your waist after lifting the blankets over the two of you. It made you slightly hot, but it was comforting before his fingers slid down your slit, his tongue teasing your cunt as he slowly slipped a finger into you after moving your lingerie to the side.

You choked, your hands squeezing the blankets between your fingers as you groaned into the mattress. He hummed against your cunt, kissing along your thighs. “Don’t hold back before I leave you here with these vibrating panties on its highest setting. That was its lowest, do you really want it on the highest, my darling girl?”

You shake your head into the mattress, whimpering. “N-No! No, I need your cock, please Finnick, I’m ready from last night!”

“Are you, darling?” He knew you were from the cum slowly dripping down your folds, a smile on his face at how easy his fingers were sliding in and out of you, even with your cunt clenching down on his digits. “I don’t know if you are…”

“St-Stop! Stop, don’t do this to me, Finnick, please! I-I can’t, I can’t…” You begged, your mind blurred and body hot as you rolled your hips against the mattress, desperately searching for some sort of stimulation before his teeth sank into your thigh.

“Don’t test me, darling. Be good.”

“Please, please Finnick!”

He slowly pulled his finger out, licking it clean of whatever arousal you covered it with before leaning back to kneel on his knees. He fixed himself, pulling the blankets down to his waist as his rough hands rubbed down your back. You groaned loudly as he pulled one hand away to hold his cock, slowly pushing into you with a groan, head tilting back as he pushed into that tight ring of nerves, uncontrollably slamming his hips into you.

He threw his head back, letting out a loud guttural groan as his hands rubbed your shoulders, leaning down to press his lips to your shoulder. One of his hands rubbed the tightness of your shoulder blade, the other holding your chin to make you look back at him as he pressed a firm kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he whispers, jaw clenching as he groans against your mouth. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I know,” you whispered back, giggling as you kissed his lips again. “I love you too.”

He pulled his hand away from your jaw, pushing it under your body to cup your cunt, his thumb flicking against your now sensitive, swollen clit to make another shock go up your spine, watching as your eyes rolled back. He laughed as your hips buck into his hand, his tongue flicking against your neck as his thrusts get sloppy, groans falling from his mouth. “F-Fuck, fucking hell darling.”

“I’m close, I’m close! Don’t stop!” You groaned, gasping as he squeezed your clit just enough to push you over the edge, cumming all over his cock as you pressed your face into the mattress.

“Ah ah,” he tutted his lips, laughing slightly. “That wasn’t a good decision, darling. I told you not to hold back your moans, Y/N.”

“I-I’m sorry-”

“No,” he pulled out of you, leaning down to press a kiss to your ear. “Gonna make sure you learn that you can’t hide your moans from me.”

omg, I love fulfilling requests ♡

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© asterias-record-shop

[merakiui]

FWB prompt with Idia: "You did a good job... so i thought you deserved a balloon. "

I thought that would be hilarious, just gifting him a balloon for finally losing his V-card.

(fwb dialogues)

Idia opens the door expecting the usual rigmarole. You'll shuffle inside, tease him until his hair is burning pink, and then together you'll make a mess out of already messy sheets. Much to his dismay, that doesn't happen right away. Instead you offer a balloon with the words Congratulations! You did it! scrawled in swirling script. He blinks at it, bewildered.

"Uh... What's up with this?"

"It's a little overdue, but it's for you. You did a good job, so I thought you deserved a balloon."

Idia blinks owlishly at it, sorting through the week's events in an effort to determine what may have earned him this sudden gift. He recently beat his own speedrun record, but that's nothing new. He's always making and breaking records. He recently finished his first play-through of a new action RPG, but is that anything to write home about? He lost his virginity and casually fell into the friends with benefits route. He managed to get all endings on a dating sim.

He lost his virginity.

Wait. He lost his virginity. Idia did. Idia never-touched-grass Shroud lost his virginity, and it wasn't in some 2D porn game.

And now here you are, gallantly presenting him with a balloon to celebrate the occasion. Realizing this, he flushes vibrantly pink up to his ears and all the way to the ends of his hair.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! T-Time out!"

"What? Is the color not to your liking? I got a blue one because that's kinda your whole aesthetic. Or should I have gotten pink to match your—"

"J-Just what kind of achievement is that?!"

"A rare one for you."

Idia's not sure if he should feel humiliated, irritated, or a mix of both. But on some levels you're right. He's never actively pursued this sort of route. It was much too daunting even for an ambitious gamer like him. Despite that, you're here and you're sticking around. He feels bad for you. Are you doing this out of pity? Did someone put you up to this? Sleep with the gloomy Ignihyde Housewarden and I'll buy you a lunch for the rest of the month. That was totally the side quest, right?

"Well... W-Well, I... I did it, so leave me alone." He swipes the balloon from you, winding the ribbon around his hands. "S-See ya..."

He wasn't prepared for this event! Not at all! Dialogue with your fuck buddy is impossible! What is he even supposed to say? 'Thanks for tolerating me enough to let me sleep with you'? No way. That's mega cringe!

Your giggle is muffled through the door, but he hears it anyway.

"If you're not busy, can I see you next week?"

Idia freezes. You, someone sculpted by the gods and goddesses alike, want to see him? Again?! He's not dreaming, is he? This isn't a sleep-deprived delusion either, right? He fumbles with his phone, still gripping the balloon in his other hand, and types a cursory reply: yea sure wutevr.

He hears the chime from your phone next, and it nearly shakes him from his skin. This is actually happening...

"It's a date then. See ya, Idia! Enjoy your balloon!"

He almost can't believe it.

Hold on. Did you say date?