#they asked for a picture of me holding it. head in hands

[mattscoquette]

photographer!matt loves to use you as his muse

“yeah, cmon baby, just like that,” matt encouraged as he helped the camera up to his eye, tilting the lens to focus on you. when matt asked you if you would model for him to practice his photography, you didn’t expect this.

your fingers thrusted in and out of you dripping cunt, your thumb encircling around your pussy clit while your eyes scrunched up in pleasure. your body was on full display for matt as you laid down on his bed, your clothes long gone and discarded on the floor.

“feels good, right sweetheart?” matt mused from behind the camera, hearing a little click as the flash went off.

you nodded, putting on your best show for matt as you played with your pretty pussy.

“gotta make sure my brothers don’t find this camera, huh, g’na be quite the surprise when they get this film developed,” he murmured. even though you couldn’t see his face from behind the camera, you could hear his smirk.

your fingers were beginning to grow tired from all their obscene movements, the exhaustion in your voice prevalent in your whimpers and moans.

“matty,” you drew out, “help.”

matt chuckled, snapping one last picture before pulling the camera away from his face, looking down at you with a condescending smile. “baby,” he said lowly, his voice laced with faux sympathy, “i gotta help you? who’s gonna be taking pictures of my pretty girl then?”

you whined, your hips bucking up into your hand in a desperate way to gain friction, as if to show him how needy you really were. “please, i need you.”

matt smirked, shaking his head no and holding the camera up again, continuing to take photos. “pretend it’s my fingers, baby, i know you’re close. show me how pretty you are when you’re cumming for me.”

you let out a frustrated whine, tossing your head back as you continued to toy with pussy, your fingers tracing the sensitive bud. you closed your eyes, doing as matt said and pretended they were his fingers. you tried to imagine all the ways matt liked to play with you, how his fingers curled up in just the rights spots to make you unravel.

you were so lost in your mind and movements, you had forgotten matt was even there in front of you. your breathing began to grow ragged, your moans louder and louder until the band in your tummy snapped, juices flowing out of your cunt as you came all over your hands and onto matt’s sheets below you.

“that’s a good girl,” he grinned, taking one last picture of glistening folds before turning off his camera.

© mattscoquette | taglist

[mangooes]

Picture Perfect

“Sylus, no.”

“Sweetie, yes.”

She crossed her arms, glaring up at her husband, who was currently lounging on their couch, looking far too smug for her liking.

“I don’t understand why we need a painting. We have cameras, we have pictures, don't we have like thousands of polaroid pictures in our album already? why, in the name of all things holy, do we need to sit still for hours just so some guy can paint our faces?”

Sylus smirked. “Because, kitten, paintings are timeless. And I want one of us hanging in the grand hall for all to see.”

She groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “You just want an excuse to show off.”

He feigned offense. “How dare you accuse me of something so—okay, yes, partially. But mostly because I want to immortalize the most beautiful thing in my life.”

She blinked, thrown off for half a second. “Wait… really?”

Sylus leaned in, crimson eyes glinting mischievously. “Of course.” He cupped her face, thumb brushing over her cheek. “It’s me.”

(Name) promptly smacked his arm, as she stands up to leave. “I knew you were full of it!”

His laugh was obnoxiously pleased, stopping her from taking a step out of his reach, he reached for her arms, gently tugging it towards his embrace.

"Come on now, kitten. For me?"

"I— you know what, I might regret this."

And that was how she found herself dragged to sit in their living room, to pose, while a professional painter fills the blank canvas the next day.

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

The artist, a refined elderly man with silver spectacles, adjusted his canvas. “Sir and Miss Qin, please sit naturally so I can capture your essence.”

(Name) took this seriously. She sat upright on the elegant couch, hands folded in her lap like a proper noblewoman. Meanwhile, Sylus…

Sylus sprawled like he owned the place.

He pulled her against him, his arm draping lazily over her waist, lips near her ear as he murmured, “Comfortable, sweetie?”

(Name)’s eye twitched. “Sit normally.”

“I am sitting normally,” he replied, tightening his grip ever so slightly. “This is how I always sit—with my wife in my arms.”

The painter cleared his throat awkwardly. “Shall we begin?”

She exhaled sharply, straightening her posture. I can do this. I will be serious.

Except Sylus did not make it easy.

At first, it was subtle—his fingers lazily tracing patterns on her side, his head dipping closer as if he were merely adjusting his position. Then, he started whispering.

“You look so serious, kitten.”

“…Because I am serious.”

“I love it when you act all proper like this. Makes me want to ruin you.”

She elbowed him in the ribs.

Sylus grunted—but the smirk remained.

Ten minutes in, she was barely holding it together.

Sylus, however, was having the time of his life.

“Did I ever tell you about the time you drooled on me in your sleep?”

She stiffened, whipping her head towards the source. “Excuse me?”

The artist paused, confused. “Miss Qin, please do not move—”

“Oh no, please continue,” Sylus said, grinning. “I was just reminiscing about last week when my dear wife—so graceful, so elegant—mumbled something about wanting to put mephisto on a bubble bath in her sleep and then drooled all over my chest.”

(Name)’s jaw dropped. “That did not happen!”

“Oh, it definitely did.” He grinned wider, eyes glinting in amusement. “Should we ask Mephisto for the footage?”

Her nostrils flared. “Sylus, I swear to—”

“Ehm,” the painter cut in, rubbing his temples, akwardly

Sylus hummed. “Oh, of course. I’ll behave.”

He did not behave.

Because now? He was tracing her thigh with his fingers.

She froze. “Sylus.”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Your hand.”

“My hand?”

“Move it.”

“…But it’s comfortable.”

Her smile twitched. “I will bite you.”

He grinned. “Oh? Are we bringing that part of our relationship into this?”

She whipped her head again for the second time that day to glare at him. “Sylus.”

The painter sighed in despair.

This is going to be a long day.

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

Somehow—somehow—they got through it.

A week later, a package arrived on the Onychinus base.

She gasped.

It was… beautiful.

The painter had captured everything—the way Sylus’s crimson eyes held a mischievous yet affectionate gleam, the way her eyes held fire and defiance.

Sylus’s arm was wrapped around her waist protectively, while her posture still held an air of independence.

It was them—love, chaos, and an unspoken battle of wills.

“…Wow,” she murmured.

Sylus looked at her. “See? Worth it.”

“…Maybe.”

“I heard that hesitation.”

She smirked. “Oh, you definitely did.”

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

The next day, Sylus had the portrait placed right in the main hallway.

She groaned. “Why there, aren't you going to hang it up in one of the hallways near our bedroom?”

“Because,” Sylus said, admiring it like it was a masterpiece, “now everyone who enters will know two things—one, that my wife is breathtaking, and two…” He turned, eyes gleaming.

“…that she belongs to me.”

She blinked. “Sylus.”

“Yes, sweetie?”

She took a deep breath.

“…You are insufferable.”

He smirked, wrapping an arm around her. “And yet, here you are, married to me.”

“…I am so getting revenge for the suffering you had brought upon me while waiting for that painting to finish.”

“I look forward to it.”

And with that, Sylus placed a kiss on her temple, entirely pleased with himself.

Portraits <3 and Sylus YEAHHHHHHHH AKSJDNJASDNKNASK I'll revise this later if i feel like i'm not satisfied. Anyways WE WON NEW SYLUS 4 STAR CARD FOR FREE I LOVE THIS

[tiramissyoucake]

HIIII!! i js read ur thing ab the different roles w the variants (the bakery one n the idol one) and they were so good!!

i was wondering if u could write the mohawk (OF) one n the shiesty (streamer) mark ones??

love ur writing <33

Heeey thanks! I had a feeling someone would ask, I'm not rlly proud of Shiesty Mark's part here since I didn't know what to do wit it but I hope ya'll like it.

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI, this has nsfw on Mohawk's part (shocker!)

CW: masturbation, dildos, nsfw videos

Based on this

Pt. 1 here

Mohawk Invincible:

There always was a certain guilt that gnawed at him whenever he spent money on not safe for work content, though Mark never had an issue shoving aside his conscience, he had an issue shoving aside the discomfort when the content wasn't catered to him enough, did people on OF just forget how to be sexy?

One thing he dislikes for 2 seconds and he scrolls. It turns him off immediately. He spends more time cringing at his phone with his dick in his hand trying to find someone, *anyone* that can scratch that itch just right.

So imagine his pure euphoria when he spots your face, gets through your paywall and sees just how well you cater to him.

God, your angles, the setting and your noises, he has to pace himself and refrain from fisting his cock so quickly and cumming to soon, he wants to savor your videos and pictures.

He has notifications turned on for all your socials, he's the first to pay for your content, the first to comment. Anytime his dick hardens even a little bit he immediately pulls up your page.

Mark sees you take commissions and practically works overtime to make his request happen, a grin tearing through when the payment is accepted and in less than 3 days, a video was already up labelled 'commissions'

This time, he didn't have to get through a paywall because it was sent to him the moment it was finished.

The details were simple: he wanted a personalised boyfriend experience video, you had to use a dildo as a replacement but fuck, you were so good at convincing him it was real when you moaned his name.

He was glad he let you post it, these chumps needed to know who was your best supporter.

"Missed you all day, Mark..." he bit his bottom lip harshly at the whiny tone from the video, watching you fuck yourself to please him gave him such an ego trip. Money well spent.

The way you called out his name repeatedly and so sweetly was enough for him to coat his stomach in white spurts, hissing in pleasure when he realised that he timed his orgasm with yours just right, thank God he tipped you.

. . .

Hearing a cry for help from a desecrated building, a blood-thirsty smile came across Mark's features as he followed the shouts asking for anyone to help. This was his favorite; pose as a helping hero, outstretch a hand to help before killing them shamelessly.

Something about that voice was familiar, like he heard it before. He blamed it on the acoustics of the surrounding rubble and smoke, he found the source, a store toppled over and broken into bits of concrete, he could see a head of hair and one outstretched hand

"Please! Anyone! I'm stuck!!"

"Are you now?" His boots came into your view as you strained to look up, not exactly Invincible himself... "have no fear, citizen." He mocked with a grin, effortlessly removing a large chunk of stone and throwing it God knows where, lifting you out from underneath.

He paused, looking over your physique and expression, the voice was freaky but this was... freakier. Something stirred in him.

"... Oh. Ooooh." He laughed, holding you closely as his eyes raked over you. "Holy shit, you have no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

Perplexed, you tried to separate from him only to be met with an unmoving grip. "You went off the grid in my dimension, y'know? Just. Poof! But damn! No one could really make me cum like you did!" He almost sighed romantically

Your face contorted to a cringe as you tried to shove him away. "What're you talking about?! Let go of me, you pervert!!"

"Oh, you have no clue." He grinned, his hands branching out to grip you wherever, landing on your ass his fingers squeezed and kneaded the flesh as he looked over your shoulder, hissing through his teeth as the memories came flooding back "I could never forget this ass either.."

Your face flushed in embarassment, his grip too tight for you to break free. "Mmh, this is better than that vid I commissioned. I threw so much money at you, baby!" Mark was well aware you didn't know what he was referring to, you weren't the same person but this was definitely the same body. Like you were made from the same mould.

"Let's go somewhere private, I'll show you just how well I know you."

♡

Shiesty Mark:

College was boring, studying was worse. Music did not help him focus and podcasts on topics he cared about just ruined his focus, Mark scoured the Internet for any sources, anything that he could play while absentmindedly focusing.

It was only when he came across a tiktok of yours playing some overly pixilated game that his interest was piqued, nonsensical commentary was everyone's cup of tea nowadays, so, by pure coincidence, he found you were live when he looked for your channel.

You were playing a horror game, Poppy bedtime or whatever, he didn't. The way you reacted to the scares, your cocky attitude when you solved a puzzle, the way you focused on boss fights was charming. It wasn't long before he managed to go through all the slides needed for his quiz and you were still going, vowing to finish the game. A comment wouldn't hurt.

MarkG_: I finished studying for my quiz and ur still playing lol

To his surprise, you noted his comment through the handful of viewers. "You finished studying? Oh, good luck on the quiz! I'm actually happy this chapter is longer, The last one was so short!"

Maybe a few more comments wouldn't hurt, soon enough he was a regular who commented game suggestions or simple friendly jabs, he never really crossed a line with you given you started as a distraction and he insisted you still were.

You played the games he recommended, greeted him when he made his presence known, his heart pounded in his chest every time you did because it meant you were keeping him in mind during these long streams, not those other losers, but him.

Someone did cross a line at some point, a self-proclaimed and entitled 'fan', putting your safety in danger and ultimately causing you to apologise and go offline for a while for your safety. That time was painfully quiet, other streamers were too boring or too loud, he understood your need to put some distance between you and entitled fans but fuck, he was tired of watching old vods.

It didn't really matter, being Invincible soon swallowed up so much of his time he didn't check back to see you when you returned.

. . .

Another pathetic squirming hero, another embarrassing defeat. Mark held the 'hero's wrist with a bored expression behind the loose face covering as he crushed the hero's wrist. "Seriously? You guys are lame, y'know there's like 20 of us?"

He didn't wait for a response as he lifted and launched them into whatever structure was in view, grinning at the impact as the hero crashed through a building and succumbed to the debris. "C'mon! Is nobody in this shithole worth it?!" He almost shrieked, waiting for a beat to see if anyone would try to refute him, the destruction can wait.

A rock flew through the air and decked him in the back of his head, it didn't hurt but it pissed him off, eyebrows furrowing and turning to look.

You stood with an arm outstretched, holding a metal pipe from where he was sure was the destroyed city, you looked terrified. "... this some kinda joke?"

You lifted the pipe, if you'll die you'll go out fighting like hell, no man impersonates your close friend without you beating the shit out of him. "What?! Hotshot alien too scared to take on ONE human?!"

He noted your features, you looked different without a camera at one fixed angle. Realisation came to him, you were that cute streamer he followed back in his world.

"No shit, of course you'd be here." He came closer, asfalt and dirt crunching under his boots as you readjusted your grip. "Back off!"

"Of fucking course, because why not? Let's make it more of a pain in my ass! Give me someone I don't wanna kill in this stupid town!" His rambling unnerved you, but you stood your ground. The moment he lifted a hand to grab you, your arms reacted and swung as hard as you could, the pipe connecting with his head. Nothing.

Mark stayed quiet, the resounding echo of the pipe connecting with his skull disappearing as his hand clutched it and tore it from your hands, bending it in his grip like it was some pretzel and throwing it aside. "Got it outta your system?"

"Fuck you!" You spat out immediately, you were more hostile here, that's for sure.

"Maybe let's get to know each other first." He grinned behind the cloak-like covering. "Don't struggle."

You gasped as he bent down and easily threw you over his shoulder, your fists immediately beating his back. "Let go of me! I'll kill you!" You were so cute.

"Sure, I'd love to see you try to wrestle me down, hun." He chuckled, glancing around the ruined town. "Hold on tight, I fucked this place up too good."

He'll find a little corner to be able to talk to you properly, he hadn't heard your voice in so long, he almost felt guilty taking pleasure in your screaming as you held onto him while he soared through the sky.

"We'll get real close and personal this time, alright?"

[mina-org]

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five you're reading part six!!

Seriously? Fuck this shit

You can’t move the frown, it’s stuck to you. What were you supposed to do? you had refused to go out with sabre because you didn’t have any money and now no electricity, your phones dead, you can’t even text him:(

Soon enough the clock strikes 12, a knock echoes through your apartment.

sabre is here and he’s gonna think you’re an idiot!

This is a great start, perfect.

Before you can unlock the door he’s letting himself in, “love you gotta keep the spare in a better place, ya lucky it’s just me.” Soon enough his shoulders are brushing past yours, heading to the kitchen.

“I picked up some food for us lovie, didn’t want ya cooking for me ‘nd hosting,” everything he does is so natural, it’s like he’s been here before and he’s not said anything about the electric situation, maybe because it’s daylight so he’s not noticed? Maybe it’s because the windows let enough light in? But you haven’t messaged him, he’s probably thinking you’re rude and now you’re being completely silent.

"im really sorry for not texting or anything, my electric isnt on and my phone is dead." you blurt out fast, your chest tightens a little, scared of his judgement, first you cant pay for coffee and now you asked him to come over and it looks like you didn't pay your electric:(

"its alright lovie, just gotta light some candles, it'll add to the mood 'nd add to the mood." he coaxes a nod out of you and you're meet with a smile. "good, now lovie I got a portable charger in the car, can get it for ya? dont want you ignoring me too much alright? and you dish out the food for us, yeah?"

"yes please, that'll be great." you soon return his smile, looking up at him! its perfect, he loves a damsel, especially one in distress(ignoring the fact he and his bros are the reason for it but thats none of your business)

Kyle searches through his car and puts his phone on mute, and changes Simon's name on his phone, doesnt want you to see Johnny simon, and price on his phone and put one and one together. the thought of johnny's tech fumble still gives him a giggle. that man hides his intelligence so, so well.

soon enough hes back upstairs, placing the charging brick on a side table before wrapping his arms around you, bringing into his chest and snapping a picture, "it'll be good for a scrapbook love, 'nd I wanna show off my pretty girl to my friends." he informs you and usually you'd protest but sabre was a breathe of fresh air, he was everything you wanted in simon and you didnt have to beg for it.

soon enough tea light candles are scattered across the table, charting out the new constellations that'll shine over you sabre, no, no, no.

You're getting ahead of yourself, you've known sabre for like 30 minutes? can't plan your wedding right now, when he goes home though? free range!!!

"so um, I thought we could like do a little painting dating, I grabbed a couple of canvases and stuff."

"great! I see this stuff all over 'nd I never 'ad anyone to do it with." sabre responds eagerly, he settles into his seat

"what are ya gonna paint?"

"not sure yet" you stare at the colours and suddenly you've never seen anything before.

"have ya seen the hand one? like we both have a colour and than I press my hand on the canvas 'nd than you do it over mine" he suggests.

do you just wanna compare hand size? you tilt your head to the side.

"yeah, but this way ill have a painting for when ya busy, unless youre willing to give me a hand, love?" he nods, admitting it with a laugh, you notices theres a hint of embarrassment, "'m a clingy bugger love, hope that's alright."

you nod at his words, "me too" you say simply and sabre starts picking out colours.

"you wanna be purple love, 'nd I can be green?" you nod and sabre is soon tugging up his sleeve and passing over his hand for you to paint.

you hold his hand so gently, he can't remember the last time he was held so delicately. the mix of the sensation of bristles and cold paint sends a shiver down his spine but you hold him steady and the scent he had smelt on simon and lingered in his flat it's suddenly flooded him, moorish caramel and rich vanilla, he wants to take a bite out of you.

his hand is soon covered in the pistachio green paint and moving to press down on the canvas.

now its your turn, but sabre is already tugging your sleeve up and a gently but firm hand brushes a layer of lavender over your own hand, you and sabre chat about everything and anything, his thumb gently rubs up and down.

soon enough the painting is done and sabre's got his phone out and taking pictures of you and the creation, saying he'll post it. little do you know he's sending it to simon who's spiralling because what the fuck? you always sent those sappy videos to him and now youre doing them, with Kyle:( not him. sickening. blood rises and he wants to grab Kyle out of your flat and take back his place.

sharing has never been Simons strong point.

taglist: @skeletonsucker @supernova2205 @wh0re4-alexademi @grr457 @gh0st-spid3r @sweetlittleblackrose @aceywaycy @mooievis @theadultoedge @cheese-pull @imtherain@h0e-02 @misscaller06 @lucilleifer @cherryflavoredguts @junitries @aneternallyexhaustedpigeon @drewsphswife @just-lilita @bvrnxy @crempuffie @erintaro @skyfire93 @my-little-evil-blog @alexalix-z@littlemiss-it-girl

[misanahrs]

just the two of us —minatozaki sana.

now playing: moonstruck - enhypen.

synopsis - from the moment minatozaki sana steps into your studio, she’s utterly smitten. shamelessly flirting at every opportunity, she’s determined to you over, but she doesn’t expect to fall this hard. between teasing exchanges, stolen glances, and a first date filled with laughter and flustered moments, sana realises she’s completely, hopelessly in love.

pairing - minatozaki sana x fem reader.

i:

you’ve always been comfortable behind the camera. there’s a quiet kind of power in being the observer rather than the observed, in capturing the world through a lens without having to stand in its spotlight. you’ve worked with dozens of models before—beautiful people who know exactly how to command attention—but none have ever made you forget how to breathe.

and then, minatozaki sana steps into your studio.

she is a vision draped in golden afternoon light, her presence soft yet impossibly magnetic, as if she’s been sculpted from the very concept of warmth itself. her hair spills over her shoulders in silken waves, catching the glow of the setting sun filtering through the tall windows. her eyes, deep and rich with unspoken mischief, find yours immediately. she smiles, and it feels like the room itself tilts slightly off its axis.

“are you always this quiet,” she muses, tilting her head as she watches you adjust your camera settings, “or am i just too stunning for words?” her voice is lilting, teasing, as if she’s testing you—seeing how much power she holds in a game she’s only just begun.

you swallow, steadying yourself with a deep breath. “i just concentrate when i work,” you reply, trying to keep your tone even, though you can already feel the edges of your composure fraying.

but sana doesn’t miss a thing.

“ohh,” she hums, stepping closer, her gaze flickering over you like she’s mapping out something precious. “so if i weren’t your model, would you talk to me more?”

the air in the room shifts. her perfume—soft, floral, something like jasmine and vanilla—lingers between you, making your thoughts feel syrupy and slow.

“would you go on a date with me if i weren’t your model?” she asks, voice lighter now, almost playful, but there’s something else beneath it. something real.

your breath hitches. your fingers twitch over the shutter button.

click.

you don’t even realise you’ve pressed it until sana’s lips curve into a delighted grin.

“did you just take a picture of me flirting with you?” she giggles, and god, the sound is musical. light. intoxicating.

your face heats instantly. you clear your throat, lowering the camera, but sana’s eyes are still locked onto yours, shimmering with something unreadable. “you should focus, minatozaki,” you say, grasping at professionalism, at anything that might keep you from completely losing your cool.

but she only leans in a fraction closer, voice honey-sweet. “but i am focusing,” she whispers. “on you.”

and suddenly, it feels like you are the one being captured—pinned beneath the weight of her attention, forever frozen in a moment you’re not sure you ever want to escape from.

⸻

ii:

from that moment on, every photoshoot becomes a battle. sana finds new ways to fluster you—throwing winks over her shoulder, blowing kisses between shots, letting her hands travel over your body and rest in various places when she analyses the images you took of her, casually complimenting you in ways that seem far too genuine to be simple teasing.

one afternoon, as you’re reviewing the photos from your latest session, sana leans in over your shoulder, her presence warm and distracting. “these look amazing,” she says, her voice softer than usual. then, after a pause, she tilts her head. “but something’s missing.”

you frown slightly, studying the screen,not very used to your skills being criticised as a top photographer. “what is it?”

she grins, and you know you’ve walked straight into a trap. “me, taking you out to dinner after this.”

you blink. her confidence is unwavering, as always, but there’s something in her expression—something softer, more sincere.

“one date, y/n,” she presses gently, nudging your arm. “just one. if you don’t fall for me by the end of it, i’ll stop flirting.”

you hesitate. “you promise?”

sana smirks. “no,” she says easily. “because i already know you’ll fall for me.”

and, if you’re being honest, you might have already fallen.

———

iii:

you don’t know how she does it, but sana somehow manages to find the most intimate little restaurant in the city—the kind of place that feels like a well-kept secret, tucked away between winding alleyways and ivy-covered brick walls.

soft candlelight flickers against the wooden tabletops, casting golden reflections in the deep amber of sana’s eyes. the air hums with the quiet murmur of conversations, the occasional clink of silverware against ceramic, the distant notes of a love song drifting from an old record player in the corner.

and sana—god, sana is radiant.

she pulls your chair out for you, exaggeratedly chivalrous, and when you raise an unimpressed eyebrow, she only grins.

“see?” she says, settling into her seat. “i’m a perfect date already.”

you shake your head, but there’s no stopping the smile tugging at your lips. “you’re something, alright.”

dinner is a dance between effortless charm and absolute chaos. sana is a natural flirt, shameless and relentless in her teasing, she speaks about herself and her journey with twice—momentarily stating that this was a restaurant the girls used to come to as trainees—but she listens, too—really listens. she asks about your favourite places to photograph, about the moments that make your heart swell behind the lens. she hums in understanding when you describe the way golden-hour light makes everything feel softer, more alive.

and then, just when you think she’s nothing but smooth edges and practiced confidence, she knocks over her glass.

her eyes widen in pure, mortified horror as water spills across the table, ice cubes bouncing onto the floor with a soft clatter. “i— i meant to do that,” she blurts out, frantically grabbing at napkins in a desperate attempt to undo the damage.

you laugh, the sound spilling out of you before you can stop it, and suddenly the night feels even lighter, easier.

“sure you did,” you tease, watching as she hues of pink begin to lightly coat the apple of her cheeks.

she pouts, cheeks flushed, eyes flickering between yours and the now-damp tablecloth. “stop looking at me like that. i’m supposed to be dazzling you, not embarrassing myself.”

you hesitate, then, and before you can overthink it, you let yourself smile. “you’re still dazzling,” you admit softly.

sana freezes.

her lips part slightly, as if she hadn’t been expecting you to say it out loud. her fingers curl slightly against the table, her breath catching just enough for you to notice. the same light pink on her cheeks deepen.

and for once, it is her who is flustered.

“so…” she clears her throat, her voice just a little quieter now. “does that mean i get a second date?”

you lean back, pretending to consider it. “hmm,” you hum, tapping your chin. “maybe.”

sana gasps, placing a hand over her heart like you’ve just shattered her. “maybe?” she repeats dramatically. “i’ll just have to work harder, then.”

and work harder she does.

⸻

iv:

it happens after a photoshoot—one where sana had been softer than usual, where her touches lingered just a little too long, where her laughter felt like something only meant for you.

the studio is quiet now, save for the faint hum of the city outside. sana stands a few steps away, shifting on her feet, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

“y/n,” she starts, then stops. exhales. tries again. “i know i’ve been flirting with you since the moment we met,” she says, voice smaller than you’ve ever heard it, like she’s suddenly afraid of the words leaving her lips. “and i know i said i wanted to win you over but…”

she glances up at you then, and you realise—she’s nervous.

minatozaki sana, who has always been confident, always been bold, always been so sure of herself—she is nervous.

“i think you’ve actually won me over instead,” she murmurs. your breath catches. “i really like you,” she continues, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “and i don’t just want to flirt with you. i want to be yours. properly.”

silence stretches between you, heavy and fragile, until you finally take a step forward.

you take her hand.

“you already are.”

sana blinks. her lips part slightly. “huh?”

you squeeze her fingers, warmth spreading from your chest outward. “yours. i already am.”

her face floods with colour. “oh my god,” she whispers, pressing both hands over her burning face. “did i just get confessed to?”

you laugh, heart full.

“i was supposed to be the smooth one!” she wails.

you squeeze her hand again. “guess i beat you at your own game, minatozaki.”

and minatozaki sana—hopeless romantic, self-proclaimed flirt, and now, completely, utterly smitten—finally gets her happy ending.

———

epilogue: your moments with sana.

i:

mornings with sana are slow, filled with warm limbs tangled beneath soft sheets, the scent of fresh linen mixing with the faint hint of her vanilla shampoo. sunlight spills through the curtains, painting golden patches on the bed, and sana—your beautiful, sleepy girlfriend—buries her face against your neck with a soft hum of protest when you try to move.

“nooo,” she mumbles, voice thick with sleep, arms tightening around you. “don’t leave.”

you laugh softly, brushing your fingers through her tousled hair. “we have to, baby. you have a schedule.”

sana groans dramatically, pulling you even closer, as if she can physically stop time. “five more minutes,” she pleads, but you know from experience that five minutes always turns into fifteen, then thirty.

you press a kiss to her forehead, then her cheek, then the tip of her nose, and finally, her lips—lingering just long enough to feel her melt into it. her lips curl into a sleepy smile. “mmm. okay. maybe i’ll get up for more of that.”

you shake your head, amused. “bribing you with kisses now?”

she peeks up at you with a cheeky grin. “it’s very effective, don’t you think?”

you roll your eyes, but you still kiss her again—because really, who could resist?

⸻

ii:

it happens on an ordinary evening. nothing extravagant, no grand gestures—just the two of you curled up on the sofa, a forgotten movie playing in the background while sana absentmindedly traces patterns on your arm with her fingertips.

you’re not even talking, just existing together in comfortable silence, when she suddenly sighs—soft and dreamy—like she’s realising something for the first time.

“i love you.”

the words come so naturally, so effortlessly, that it takes a moment for them to fully sink in. you turn to her, heart stuttering, and find her already looking at you, eyes warm and filled with something deeper than anything she’s ever said before.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen her look so genuine. so completely, helplessly in love.

“say it again,” you whisper.

she smiles, shy but certain. “i love you.”

and you don’t hesitate—not for a second—before cupping her face and pressing your forehead to hers. “i love you too, sana.”

she beams, then giggles, then kisses you so sweetly that you wonder how you ever lived before knowing what her love feels like.

⸻

iii:

being a photographer for vogue is always an honour, but being the photographer for twice’s first full-group cover? that’s a dream. a dream that becomes even sweeter when your girlfriend, minatozaki sana, is part of it.

the studio buzzes with energy—stylists making last-minute adjustments, makeup artists perfecting the girls’ looks, and the members themselves, effortlessly beautiful and glowing under the bright lights.

sana, of course, had been smug the moment she found out you were the assigned photographer.

“guess i’ll be your favourite model today,” she had teased that morning, standing in your doorway, dressed in her robe, eyes sparkling.

but now? now it’s a different story.

“yahhh, look at sana!” nayeon sing-songs as you adjust your lens, a playful smirk already forming on her lips. “she’s posing extra hard for y/n.”

“it’s true!” jeongyeon chimes in. “look at her! she’s gazing.”

“our sana is so in love,” momo teases, nudging her.

sana, to your delight, actually starts turning pink.

you decide to take it a step further.

you lower your camera slightly, tilting your head in mock curiosity. “hmm… sana-ssi, could you maybe… pose less seductively?” you say, as if genuinely concerned. “you’re making it very hard to focus on my work.”

the studio erupts with laughter.

sana’s jaw drops. her face turns an even deeper shade of red as she swats at you. “y/n!” she squeaks, her confident facade completely crumbling.

“ohhhh my god,” chaeyoung wheezes. “tables have turned.”

dahyun claps her hands. “this is a historic moment.”

sana buries her face in her hands. “i hate you,” she mumbles, but the way she’s smiling says otherwise.

you grin, stepping closer, lowering your voice just for her. “no, you don’t.”

she peeks at you through her fingers, playfully pouting. “okay, fine. i don’t.”

you press a quick kiss to her cheek before stepping back. “now, be a good model and let me take your picture, minatozaki.”

and, despite her embarrassment, sana absolutely melts.

⸻

iv:

it’s late. the kind of late where the world feels a little softer, where everything slows down, where love lingers in the quietest corners of your home.

you and sana stand in the kitchen, the glow of the refrigerator casting long shadows across the floor, soft music playing from your phone. she’s wearing one of your hoodies, sleeves hanging past her hands, hair a little messy from where she’s been leaning against your shoulder just moments before.

you reach for her, fingers curling around her waist. she sighs happily, letting you pull her close.

and then, without thinking, you start to sway.

it’s not a proper dance—just the two of you, barefoot and tangled in each other’s arms, moving to a song that neither of you know the words to. but it doesn’t matter.

sana hums softly, her cheek pressed against your shoulder. “this is nice,” she murmurs.

you press a kiss to her hair. “yeah?”

she nods, tightening her arms around you.

“you make everything nice,” she whispers.

your heart swells.

you don’t respond with words—you don’t need to. instead, you hold her closer, press your lips to her temple, and continue to sway in the quiet, in the warmth, in the love that neither of you ever want to end.

and minatozaki sana—your shameless flirt, your hopeless romantic, your home—smiles like she’s never been happier

[ghostsirensworld]

could I please request a jealous Luffy x fem reader, where the reader sees a bounty of another pirate and finds him attractive which makes Luffy jealous. Thank you!

yup

TW: use of y/n ooc luffy? idk not proofread

Title: The Pirate Who Wasn't Luffy

The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the Thousand Sunny as it sailed smoothly through the calm sea. The crew was scattered on the deck, relaxing and enjoying the peaceful moment. Luffy, as usual, had found a comfortable spot by the railing, lazily chewing on meat while his straw hat shielded his eyes from the sun.

You, however, were sitting off to the side, engrossed in a bounty poster you had found while exploring a nearby town earlier that day. It was a rare moment when you had some time to yourself, and you couldn’t help but notice the wanted poster of a pirate who seemed… interesting.

"Captain Zane "The Ghost" Blackwater," the poster read. It went on to list his bounty—a staggering 200 million berries, a sum far higher than Luffy’s at the moment. But it wasn’t the bounty that caught your attention, no. It was his sharp jawline, dark eyes, and the mischievous smirk that looked like he could charm the entire world if he wanted to.

You admired the poster for a moment longer than you meant to. The man seemed confident, charismatic—a pirate who seemed to have everything together, unlike the chaotic, carefree Luffy who lived for the moment. You found yourself imagining what it would be like to meet him, and before you knew it, you whispered aloud, "He’s... kinda handsome, huh?"

Just then, a loud voice broke through your thoughts.

"Huh?!" Luffy suddenly appeared beside you, his head cocked to the side as he eyed you suspiciously. He had a big smile on his face, but there was something off about it, something sharp in his gaze. "What’s that you’re looking at?"

You blinked, realizing too late that Luffy had overheard you. You quickly hid the poster behind your back, but Luffy was too fast. He snatched it out of your hands, squinting at the bounty.

"Who’s this guy?" he asked, his voice a little too loud, too curious.

You sighed, trying to play it off casually. "Oh, it’s just a pirate I came across earlier. His bounty’s huge, but that’s all."

Luffy's face immediately scrunched up in confusion and... something else. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the picture of the pirate. The guy’s confident grin seemed to irk him for some reason.

"So this guy’s stronger than me, huh?" Luffy crossed his arms and stuck his lip out in a pout, his tone suddenly sharp.

You blinked, surprised by his sudden shift in attitude. "What? No, Luffy! I just said his—"

"his what?" Luffy interrupted, his expression a mixture of disbelief and irritation. "You think this guy's more stronger than me? i’ll fight him on and prove i’m stronger!" His voice dropped to a low growl, and you realized that Luffy was... jealous?

You tried to explain yourself, feeling your face warm up. "It’s not like that! He’s just cute i never said—"

But Luffy wasn't having it. His whole posture became defensive, and his eyes hardened. "I don’t care how good-looking he is or whatever!" He threw the poster to the ground with exaggerated drama, then placed his hands on his hips like some sort of child trying to make a point. "I’m gonna be the Pirate King! And when I am, I’ll be way more handsome than this guy."

You bit your lip to hide the smile tugging at your lips. Luffy was so stubborn, so childish about things like this, but you couldn’t deny how adorable it was that he cared. You knelt down to pick up the poster, holding it up to Luffy’s face.

"Look, Luffy," you said, trying to hold back your laughter. "I never said he was more handsome than you. I just said he’s charming. You’re… you’re just you."

Luffy’s frown deepened. "What does that mean?" His voice was soft, almost a little unsure, and you could tell he was starting to doubt himself.

You softened, taking a step closer to him. "What I mean is, Luffy, no one can replace you. You’re the one I like. You’re the one I’m always going to think is the most amazing pirate in the world. No matter how many good-looking or strong pirates there are."

Luffy’s expression shifted from jealousy to something softer. He stared at you for a long moment, and then slowly, his pout turned into a wide, toothy grin. "Yeah! That’s right!" He punched the air as if celebrating his own victory. "I’m gonna be the best Pirate King, and no one’s more amazing than me!"

You giggled, shaking your head as you reached up to ruffle his messy hair. "You already are, Luffy. And trust me, no one else could ever take your place."

Luffy’s smile only grew, his eyes sparkling with renewed confidence. "HA. I knew you’d think that! So, he’s not better looking OR stronger than me, right?"

You smiled back, your heart fluttering in your chest. "Of course not."

"Good," Luffy said with a satisfied nod, then he grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you toward the edge of the ship. "Now, let’s go get something to eat! I’m starving!"

You laughed as you let him drag you off, feeling grateful for the simple, unspoken moments that made Luffy so Luffy.

[retrowitchy]

katniss & peeta vs haymitch watching the 50th quell replay, 25 years apart (a textual comparison)

sunrise on the reaping:

"The recap opens on the reading of the card, which I watched from home with Ma and Sid in the spring. A little girl all dressed in white, the picture of innocence, lifts the lid on a wooden box filled with envelopes. They widen the shot to include President Snow, who intones, "And now, to honor our second Quarter Quell, we respect the wishes of those who risked all to bring peace to our great nation." He leans over and carefully selects the envelope marked with a 50 and reads the card inside. "On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district will be required to send twice as many tributes to the Hunger Games. Two female and two male. In this doubling of reparations, we remember that true strength lies not in numbers, but in righteousness,"" (SOTR, pg. 340)

catching fire:

"After the anthem, they show President Snow drawing the envelope for the second Quarter Quell. He looks younger but just as repellent. He reads from the square of paper in the same onerous voice he used for ours, informing Panem that in honor of the Quarter Quell, there will be twice the number of tributes," (CF, pg. 221)

sunrise on the reaping:

" "Maysilee Donner!" There's Maysilee, Merrilee, and Asterid clutching one another in the crowd. One of the tearful good-byes captured by Plutarch." (SOTR, pg. 340)

catching fire:

"...and then I hear the name "Maysilee Donner". "Oh!" I say. "She was my mother's friend." The camera finds her in the crowd, clinging to two other girls. All blond. All definitely merchants' kids. "I think that's your mother hugging her," says Peeta quietly.

And he's right. As Maysilee Donner bravely disengages herself and heads for the stage, I catch a glimpse of my mother at my age, and no one has exaggerated her beauty. Holding her hand and weeping is another girl who looks just like Maysilee. But a lot like someone else I know, too. "Madge," I say.

“That's her mother. She and Maysilee were twins or something,” Peeta says. “My dad mentioned it once.”" (CF, pg. 221 )

sunrise on the reaping:

"Incitatus Loomy could not have masterminded a finer parade. The frantic backstage prep never makes an appearance, just a amjestic, orderly rollout of the tributes. There's a final aerial shot of all twelve chariots cruising along the route in perfect sync, which ends about fifteen seconds before that blue firecracker exploded, sending the whole event into chaos. This is all the country saw anyway. You had to be there in person to know about the crrashing chariots and me holding Snow accountable for Louella's death." (SOTR, pg. 341)

catching fire:

"The chariot rides — in which the District 12 kids are dressed in awful coal miners' outfits — and the interviews flash by." (CF, pg. 222)

sunrise on the reaping:

"Lou Lou's reduced to a girl wearing live-reptile fashion, Maysilee's and Wyatt's memorable turns are entirely ignored, and I get one snarky exchange with Caesar:

"So, Haymitch, what do you think of the Games having one hundred percent more competitors than usual?"

"I don't see that it makes much difference. They'll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same."

The audience laughs, and I give them this grin that confirms me as a stuck-up, selfish jerk. No mention of my support of the Newcomers. No silly interplay about making booze for Peacekeepers. The rascal's just a jackass." (SOTR pg. 342)

catching fire:

"There's little time to focus on anyone. But since Haymitch is going to be the victor, we get to see one full exchange between him and Caesar Flickerman, who looks exactly as he always does in his twinkling midnight blue suit. Only his dark green hair, eyelids, and lips are different. 

“So, Haymitch, what do you think of the Games having one hundred percent more competitors than usual?” asks Caesar.

Haymitch shrugs.

“I don't see that it makes much difference. They'll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same.” The audience bursts out laughing and Haymitch gives them a half smile.

Snarky. Arrogant. Indifferent. “He didn't have to reach far for that, did he?” I say." (CF, pg. 223)

sunrise on the reaping:

"The jackass, meaning me, grabs his gear and hightails it out of there and then we get to watch the bloodbath, where eighteen kids are killed in excruciating detail." (SOTR, pg. 342)

catching fire:

"The beauty disorients many of the players, because when the gong sounds, most of them seem like they're trying to wake from a dream. Not Haymitch, though. He's at the Cornucopia, armed with weapons and a backpack of choice supplies. He heads for the woods before most of the others have stepped off their plates. Eighteen tributes are killed in the bloodbath that first day." (CF, pg. 224)

sunrise on the reaping:

"Up until this point, I think the recap's been a fair record of what occurred in the arena. However, on Day 2, things start to go wonky. At some point, Maysilee, on her own, kills the boy from District 1, Loupe, which I believe to be true because she told me this. There are a lot of tributes still recovering from the poison and the Career pack's hunting Newcomers. That, too, seems likely. But the recount of what happened in the woods, my tale, begins to deviate almost immediately. Timelines are twisted. Connections misleading. It's less flat-out lying than lying by ommission. For instance, I see myself fighting squirrels, although they weren't around until the third day when I fought them to save Ampert. But we haven't even met up yet, so I seem to be trying to save my own life. They show Lous Lou gasping in the flowers, only I'm nowhere in sight. Later, I'm just running from the butterflies without even a glimpse of my feeling with her body, hiding in the willows, and bringing on the shockers as punishment." (SOTR, pg. 343)

catching fire:

"Others begin to die off and it becomes clear that almost everything in this pretty place—the luscious fruit dangling from the bushes, the water in the crystalline streams, even the scent of the flowers when inhaled too directly—is deadly poisonous. Only the rainwater and the food provided at the Cornucopia are safe to consume. There's also a large, well-stocked Career pack of ten tributes scouring the mountain area for victims. Haymitch has his own troubles over in the woods, where the fluffy golden squirrels turn out to be carnivorous and attack in packs, and the butterfly stings bring agony if not death. But he persists in moving forward, always keeping the distant mountain at his back. Maysilee Donner turns out to be pretty resourceful herself, for a girl who leaves the Cornucopia with only a small backpack." (CF, pg. 224 )

sunrise on the reaping:

"In fact, our picnic, the campout, the bombing of the tank, my rampage, and the arena going haywire- not a bit of that appears. The horrors of the volcano take center stage. The tributes experience the flame-shooting eruption, asphyxiation by the ash cloud, burns from the chemical lava. Twelve die." (SOTR, pg. 343)

catching fire:

"With the mountain spewing liquid fire, and the meadow offering no means of concealment, the remaining thirteen tributes — including Haymitch and Maysilee — have no choice but to confine themselves to the woods." (CF, pg. 225)

sunrise on the reaping:

"With the tank plot erased, my whole agenda seems to have been about getting to the end of the arena, which was, I guess, my cover story. It rains, but they've concealed all the bombing's damage. The arena's as perfect as ever. I get trapped in the hedge, follow the gray rabbit to freedom, and run into Panache and company." (SOTR, pg. 343)

catching fire:

"Haymitch seems bent on continuing in the same direction, away from the now volcanic mountain, but a maze of tightly woven hedges forces him to circle back into the center of the woods, where he encounters three of the Careers and pulls his knife." (CF, pg. 225)

sunrise on the reaping:

""We'd live longer with two of us." Oh, Maysilee. I am mortified to be sitting here." (SOTR, pg. 344)

catching fire:

"“We'd live longer with two of us.” “Guess you just proved that,” says Haymitch, rubbing his neck." (CF, pg. 225)

sunrise on the reaping:

"Is it Day 4 or 5? Maysilee and my attempts to carve our way through the hedge have merged into one big sequence that involves the ladybugs and blowtorch. We're on the cliff that looks down on the treacherous rocks, but they steer clear of the generator. They've edited out the cannon announcing Maritte's death and with it the part where Maysilee says she's just going back for the potatoes, so it looks like we've really decided to split up." (SOTR, pg. 344)

catching fire:

"When they finally do make it through that impossible hedge, using a blowtorch from one of the dead Careers' packs, they find themselves on flat, dry earth that leads to a cliff. Far below, you can see jagged rocks. 

“That's all there is, Haymitch. Let's go back,” says Maysilee. 

“No, I'm staying here,” he says.

“All right. There's only five of us left. May as well say good-bye now, anyway,” she says. “I don't want it to come down to you and me.” 

“Okay,” he agrees. That's all. He doesn't offer to shake her hand or even look at her. And she walks away." (CF, pg. 226)

sunrise on the reaping:

"The pink birds attack Maysilee and she screams. For the first time, I look like I might be redeemable because I run to her aid. Oh, no. They haven't turned this into a redemption story, have they? Selfish rascal learns to care about others? Please tell me no." (SOTR, pg. 344)

catching fire:

"The alliance is over and she broke it off, so no one could blame him for ignoring her. But Haymitch runs for her, anyway. He arrives only in time to watch the last of a flock of candy pink birds, equipped with long, thin beaks, skewer her through the neck. He holds her hand while she dies, and all I can think of is Rue and how I was too late to save her, too. " (CF, pg. 227)

sunrise on the reaping:

"I appear to have finally remembered that I belong to a wider alliance so I'm going to the rescue, when the cannon sounds and I come upon Silka, Wellie's head in hand. Smash cut to the golden squirrels stripping Maritte to the bone. No matter that she's been long dead by this time." (SOTR, pg. 345)

catching fire:

"Later that day, another tribute is killed in combat and a third gets eaten by a pack of those fluffy squirrels, leaving Haymitch and a girl from District 1 to vie for the crown." (CF, pg. 227)

sunrise on the reaping:

"Silka dies, her cannon fires, and I'm hanging on by a thread. The sunflower bomb, the quartz, the flint striker- there's no record of any of them. All of them gone or tucked away from sight. The hovercraft removes Silka's body. Trumpets declare my victory. A claw closes around me." (SOTR, pg. 345)

catching fire:

"The cannon sounds, her body is removed, and the trumpets blow to announce Haymitch's victory. Peeta clicks off the tape and we sit there in silence for a while." (CF, pg. 228)

[cryptid-killjoy]

"I don't doubt you." He didn't either. He wasn't flattering her genius. He believed every word.

She couldn't regret it if she was dead?

"To looking at things from other perspectives then."

He laughed because he wasn't stopping. His goal was up.

"No regrets."

Then she actually confronted him on why he bothers to call her hot while also pointing out that she didn't seem to think he was some perve like the clients at the kitty club. It wasn't something he thought he'd be questioned about much less ever be told in combination of such opposite sentiment. He'd have been more ready for being called a perve and to just stop talking like that. He was a straight up guy, but how far was he going to go with that one? "Pft. But I mean. Gnnngh. I don't know though. Because you let me. Because it's true. Or I don't know. Because you pft. Because you haven't told me not to. And... uh...."

But this and uh lingered as he reached for the next secure holding on the tree. He let the conversation die away and let that and uh never be finished. Whatever Dale's thoughts were had remained his own as he climbed.

Scout's hair was brought into the scope, "Something about she likes it that way. I don't know." Total brother answer. Not that deep.

By the time they were up on the tree platform and in the hut, it all might have been a lost conversation all together as they went into investigating the treasures of long-lost past.

GoGo might not have had any sense of nostalgia, but Dale was trying to paint for her from up there. He was hoping she'd be able to feel a vision of a place she'd never been better if she stepped into his memories. All he had was his memories and a few weather-worn trinkets, but it felt like a lost world in the palm of his hands with that map, the gems, and the lone hut high above the zombie forest with his numb body and extreme buzz on. He was as high on nostalgia as his face was numb and he could barely feel his face at all. He continued pursuing his own bottle.

"Definitely a born leader. She even sucked at following a game of Simon Says. I remember her asking 'Who is Simon to tell me what to do?' and telling her that's just how you play the game went over her head. She would act like it was the dumbest game on the planet. She was probably right."

Scout was indeed fine. She'd fallen asleep by this time and Dale's suspicions were correct. This was his moment. The map was all his for just a little while. No shared sight from the other siblings anyhow were watching.

"Teabag? Burn?" He pictured the concept with a little laugh at the two words that came out of his mouth at the same time. "Woah. No. Not me. That sounds cool though. I like that. Never heard of it."

Suddenly, Dale was getting ideas for the homemade Christmas presents. He usually recruited his more creative siblings to help him. But he was grinning something awful believing he finally got the Christmas idea first. FINALLY. GoGo just inspired him.

"You have to show me. I want to learn to do that. Can we meet at night to show me?"

Dale had asked her to help him with gifting before and kept making her do things in odd ways or at night when the others were sleeping so it'd still be a surprise while the magic windows were dark. She didn't question his odd requests the first time. So, he didn't think twice about asking again.

It did start to feel as if they were settling in. The alcohol had taken complete hold and sounds of the swamp were as relaxing as leaning against one another staring at all the names on the wall. GoGo's name fit right in. To Dale it seemed to blend like it'd been there all along especially with how the old marker wasn't the brightest even though the moisture got the color bleeding again. It worked. It was new, but it almost seemed aged. Her name fit just right.

He held up his phone and snapped a pic since his siblings were sleeping. He didn't want them to miss something that special. The rest of the feeling he didn't mind having privately when GoGo settled back in. It also felt just right right now. He felt so comfortable. He felt so good. Exhausted good. Buzzed good. Drunk good actually. Nostalgic good. Serotonin good. Halloween good. Shirtless good. He was enjoying the closeness and that's why private was good. It wasn't like when his cousin Ellie slept over and closeness was just closeness. This wasn't like when his sister came curling up near him.

Dale had deeper thoughts of GoGo he knew he might should make go away. He'd felt the rejection here before. He couldn't quite hold on to that rejection recollection inside the nice warm feeling and alcohol though. The current feeling was far too alive and living its best life smiling its way through his very relaxed veins. It was such a nice private feeling Dale could coddle GoGo up in and no one else had to know. He forgot what he was going to say after the and uh earlier. And uh once I knew you weren't into me that way it was much easier to treat you like any other pervy guy would any other girl because it's fun to only talk about your looks because who gives a shit if I care about the rest anyway? But he couldn't think too deep. That wasn't Dale. He was more the sort to paint Life is Short Fuck Your Friends on public property. So, he certainly wasn't going to talk too deeply without real provocation, like for example how he spouted off at Mr. Tomago. Dale went off that day. GoGo didn't ask a simple enough question to get a real answer.

He just sort of leaned there at first, arms around her, admiring her name on the wall, attempting to keep it in focus, an obvious alcohol curve, but whatever. It felt like this wall of tired passed through him forcing his head to lean against hers all the more, harder, heavier, side-by-side. If he wasn't careful, he and GoGo were going to merge together like ghosts through a wall. As his strangely altered mind state actually started to wonder if this was possible and began to worry about how hard he was leaning on her he lifted his hands and smoothed both palms down both sides of her arms checking the boundaries of her person. This made him turn to face her. Good. Good. They were still separate. He was alive and well. After all he'd seen in this world, he didn't feel crazy to check. He truly wondered if he'd passed over in a passed-out state.

He could hear their heartbeats in the slew of other swamp noises though or maybe it was just his? He wasn't sure. He noticed his breathing next. That made him start grinning more. Yeah, he was definitely still alive. He hadn't drunk himself to death despite the empty bottle he'd nearly chugged on his own.

He faced her in that drunken state with that grin, nose-to-nose, no fear of personal space invasion. Inhibitions lost to the wind. Private, windows dark, drunken state, with the word honorary still ringing in his head. It was moments like this sensation was strange but familiar. Dale drank often. He liked the pressure of trying to feel his nose, his cheeks, which came with some difficulty, and it became its own fun game against hers. Still, he was left thinking GoGo was probably the only girl who never got an honorable mention in any competition in all her life. Too smart. She probably won every science fair. Top trophies. Blue ribbons. She wasn't the sort to need a made-up placement to feel special among the rest of the kids at school.

"Nope. Honorary's for losers. You just are one of us. You. Just. Are. You didn't need the wall for that. It's something you feel."

There was a little pause, more grinning, some laughing.

"Like feeling there's no way I'm climbing down this tree again till I'm sober if I want to live through it. But you're going to get a real special experience here. Oh yeah. Swamp sunrise from the skies. We get the best view up here. If you wanted to visit here, this was going to be the best place to be."

“I’m sure that I can learn how to become faster than him,” Go-Go said, her tone serious. She was already thinking, she would have to watch, learn his secrets, learn how to travel the world in one night. If it meant using magical doors, well, teleportation wasn’t nearly as much fun as going fast but it was something interesting nonetheless. “We’ll bind him.”

She did go back to the car and dig out the bottle of expensive alcohol. If it wasn’t exactly for times like this, then what was it for? She didn’t have any pockets within the slinky dress, so she had to put it down into the cleavage, and hope that the dress was tight enough to keep it there. She didn’t really have the tits to keep it there that way.

She would then take the grips. She wasn’t cocky enough to think that she knew more about climbing than he did, this was entirely his territory. So monkey see, monkey do, in this case. She then tied the rope around her waist, double knotting it securely.

She looked up and she wasn’t intimidated. Perhaps that was already the drink in her. Her brain was starting to calculate the height, and her weight to figure out the velocity that she would get if she fell from such dizzying heights. “If I were to fall, I would die regardless, and I can’t regret something if I’m dead.”

That was as close to a ‘let’s start climbing’ as she was going to say.

“Why do you do it, anyway?” She asked, double checking the knot. She meant call her hot. “I know you’re not like the pervs who do it at work, so what’s your reasoning?”

She wasn’t as rough-and-tumble as Dale, so even though he was more hurt than she was, she was slower. Being a bit more careful with the steps, following Dale’s instructions, blowing the long, straight hair out of her face every single time it got into her way. “I’m getting why Scout keeps hers short all the time now,” She said. Adventurous shit like this. No wonder Lara Croft wears hers back.

Her name was suiting her right now, since she didn’t pause for a second. It was like rock-climbing. Vertigo, sure, but you stop for a second and your brain starts to work too hard. Something like this was more instinctual. There was a pattern to everything, to the way that they climbed, and she tuned into it, grabbing up to balance herself before she even knew that there was something there to grab onto.

And then they made it.

She was slightly out of breath, climbing up with her elbows, before pulling herself up all the way. Before even looking at the view, she made sure that it was sweat dripping down her chest and not the expensive alcohol. Still secure. Just sweat. All good there.

“Yeah, I’m good,” She said, taking the alcohol out and fanned herself, catching her breath before she took in what was left of the view. It probably was a lot better when there were more things to look at but - it was still a really nice plot of land from the looks of things.

Then she ventured inside, ducking her head to look around at what had been a once-beloved treehouse. She was, like usual around the Laveaus, from the outside looking in. She had no memories here. No sense of nostalgia. But it was interesting watching Dale go through those feelings. Perhaps it was the pain, or the pills, or the alcohol, but his face didn’t seem as guarded as usual.

It was also insane how many gemstones were just sitting around up here, untouched. Thousands of dollars, no doubt.

She took a seat on the ground, the thin dress not being much of a cushion against the hard, cold wood but it was better than exerting more energy standing up. Her eyes watched Dale with interest as he went through the old things.

Seeing the beheaded ballerina made her laugh. “Yeah, that’s definitely Scout’s,” She agreed, taking the ballerina from Dale’s hand, running it through her fingers. It looked a lot like one that she had when she was younger. Almost every girl had one of those jewellery boxes, it seems. Go-Go’s had just become a place to store batteries since she wasn’t really into accessories. They slowed her down. Rings were heavy, necklaces got in the way.

The signatures were definitely fun. Imagining a young Piper being bossy enough to command everyone to not fight when she was around. It made sense, not wanting that kind of energy when you finally got to be around your family. It made Go-Go feel an ache inside of her heart. Family. A notion she gave up on.

“Born to rule, wasn’t she?” Go-Go chuckled. “Sounded like she already had all of you under her thumb.”

Her fingers kept playing with the ballerina, running it between them, fidgiting with it, feeling the nub where the head was once attached. Doing that made it feel like Scout was here, somehow. She hoped Scout was doing alright, and of course she was, she was with her parents, right where she wanted to be.

She looked at the map and smiled at the childish handwriting, the scribbles that made out a map, only if you really knew what it was supposed to be. “Did you guys ever do that thing where you run a wet teabag on it, and burn the edges to make it look like a really old map?”

Father running away for a while - that tracked from what she had heard about Jetsam. Meeting him tonight had been like a psychology study for a little while. From the eyeballs to the strange way that he complimented people, absolutely fascinating.

She leaned her head slightly on Dale’s shoulder, making herself comfortable. With how much effort it took to climb, they were probably going to be up here for a while, and the night was beginning to take it’s toll. She’d spent most of the day getting ready for this damn party last night, and now they were inching closer to sunrise.

“It’s … a really peaceful sound. I always figured the swamps would be crazy noisy.”

We accept her, one of us. We accept her, one of us. Gooble Gobble Gooble Gobble, We Accept Her, We Accept Her.

“Yeah?” She asked, taking a drink from the bottle, and then hissed and grimaced as it still burned. She wasn’t used to it yet. Then she let out a breath and nodded, taking the marker. “Let’s do it then.”

She moved herself over, onto her hands and knees, and signed the wall with her signature.

“Cool, I’m even more of an honorary Laveau now,” She said, settling back in.

[bullet-prooflove]

Bunny: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @dizzybee03 @cosmic-psychickitty @puredicks @queenslandlover-93

Companion piece to:

Lipstick (NSFW) - Robby has never been with a woman like you.

Crisis - Robby has a bad day.

ASMR For The Soul - Robby doesn’t sleep when you’re not around.

Something To Complain About (NSFW) - You ignite the ire of Robby’s neighbour with your bedroom noises.

Noise Cancelling - Robby discovers his neighbour keeps a spreadsheet of your antics.

Robby doesn’t realise you’ve been keeping secrets, not until three months into the relationship when they all come hurtling out in the midst of one of his shifts.

It starts when an elderly resident named  Bonnie King arrives from one of those upscale nursing homes. She’s been brought in with fractured skull, disoriented, crying out for Bunny. They can’t work out if the confusion she’s exhibiting is from the injury or the dementia so Robby steps in to help with the assessment.

“Whose Bunny?” He asks Bonnie, trying to gauge her lucidity after they settle her down.

“My daughter.” She responds as Whitaker cleans up the head laceration from her slip and fall in the bathroom. “She’s pro surfer out in Hawaii. She taking a shot at the world championships soon. Maybe I can set the two of you up?”

“I’ve already got a girlfriend Ms King.” Robby tells her as he flashes a penlight into her eyes to check her pupil reaction. “But thanks for the thought.”

“Oh she won’t be as pretty as my Bunny.” She guarantees as she reaches for her purse and  pulls out an accordion of photographs, shoving them under his nose.

He surveys them with feigned interest, the baby pictures, the teenage years. It isn’t until he reaches the early twenties that he realises that her Bunny, holding a surfboard with a whole host of sponsorship labels attached to it, is his Allegra.

“Why do you call her Bunny?” He asks, struggling to put the pieces together because you have never mentioned Hawaii or surfing, not the entire time he’s known you.

“She was always an energetic little thing.” Bonnie said fondly as he hands her back the wallet containing your precious memories. “She used to bounce off the balls as a child…”

“…just like a bunny.” He finishes because you have ADHD and he guesses that was how it manifested as a kid.

“That’s right.” She beams and that smile, it’s definitely yours.

Robby does a little research after that, watching surf videos, reading interviews. The shit you used to do on the water it’s phenomenal, which raises questions about why you aren’t still doing it. It isn’t until he compares your mom’s medical file with a couple of articles from around the time of your retirement that he gets his answer.

Family circumstances, you’d told the interviewer. It tallies up with your mom’s initial diagnosis. She’d been clipped by a car after wandering into the street, admitted with a fractured hip and confusion.

You must have given up your career to move back to Pittsburgh and take care of her, using your winnings from the competitions to make sure she was in a top of the line care facility. He’s seen how you live, it’s not the lifestyle of someone who has hundreds of thousands of dollars in the bank.

He can’t imagine what it must have been like to give up that dream, to move to a place where the closest beach is almost three hours away when your entire life has been spent out on the water. He thinks that must be why you don’t talk about, the pain of letting that all go…

It would have destroyed a lesser person.

It’s an hour later you arrive at the hospital. You’d been out hiking at Montour Woods Conservation Area when you got the call. He realises all that outdoor shit you do, it’s a way of trying to find that peace you lost when you left Hawaii.

“My mom?” You ask, your voice raw with emotion when you appear in front of him and Dana.

“Let me take you to her, fill you in on what’s going on.” He says kindly before he guides you to her room. That reunion, it’ll be etched into his psyche forever because your mom, she’s started sundowning, she doesn’t even know who you are.

He’s waiting for you on the stoop of the townhouse apartment you rent when you get home from settling your mom back at her accommodation. There’s a fatigue in you that he recognises from his own final years with his father, the strain of being absolutely nothing to the person you love most in the world.

“If you’re going to end things with me, can you just rip off the band aid?” You ask him, in a voice completely devoid of emotion. “I’ve had just about as much as I can take tonight.”

“I don’t want to end things.” He tells you as he raises to his feet, his hands coming to rest upon your hips, anchoring you. “I just wanted to ask how you’re doing.”

You tilt your head away from him because up until now you’ve always been his sunshine girl, the one he relies on. It isn’t until now he sees how much weight you carry, how you’ve been hiding it underneath that shiny, fun girl persona.

“The only time I feel like I can breathe is when I’m with you.” You find yourself telling him. “The stuff with my mom, with Hawaii, it doesn’t matter because you see me, you really fucking see me…”

You break then, you shatter underneath his hands and Robby, he does the only thing he can do, he wraps you up in his arms and he holds on for dear life.  

Love Robby? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[kindersurprisebacterium]

Captivated (Ghost / Soap / Reader)

This is a part of the Polyamory Series

Cw: threesome, mild jealousy, established poly relationship, blow jobs, anal fingering, anal sex, face sitting, vaginal sex, bottom!ghost

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader

WC: 2.7K

Read on AO3

“You’re all knotted up,” Simon grunted, sinking his fingers into Johnny’s shoulders. I glanced up from my phone screen, looking over at the other end of the couch. Johnny sat between Simon’s parted legs, groaning as the Brit worked at his tense muscles. 

“I told him he was pushing himself too hard at the gym,” I clicked my tongue, scrolling through my feed, only to pause on a cat picture. 

“I wannae hit tha’ PR!” Johnny’s lips curled down into a frown. He crossed his toned arms over his chest, huffing out a dramatic sigh. “Ahm close too.”

The blonde let his hands fall to his sides, earning a whine of protest from Johnny. I shook my head, exhaling through my nose as I brought my attention back to my phone. 

“You injure yourself again, and I’m not helping you,” Simon grunted, his brows furrowing. Johnny sat up, feigning offense by placing his hand on his chest. The cushions shifted beneath us as he rushed toward me. He nudged my knees apart, huffing as he laid his chest against mine. 

He tucked his face into the crook of my neck. His hot breath fanned over my skin. Condensation grew in the divot of my collarbone. 

“This one’ll help me,” Johnny huffed, wrapping his arms around my torso. 

“I will, but that doesn’t mean I won’t tell you you’re an idiot.” I draped my arms over his back. Leaning in, I pressed my lips to his temple. His lips curled into a soft smile. He hummed, kissing my neck chastely.

I glanced over at the blonde. His brown eyes flicked across our intertwined bodies, taking in the scene before him. Huffing, he crossed his arms over his chest. 

I ran my hands up the back of Johnny's neck, my fingers tangling in the short curls. Simon pursed his lips, his brown eyes meeting mine. His leg bounced, heel tapping against the hardwood flooring. 

“Someone’s feeling left out, huh?” I asked, cocking my head. Johnny shifted his weight onto his elbow, glancing down at Simon. I couldn’t help the crooked smile that crept across my face. Cerulean eyes met mine, sharing the same expression, one that could only be described as scheming. 

“The fuck are you two smirkin’ about?” He huffed. Johnny rose from the couch, quickly sinking to his knees in front of Simon. Catching my bottom lip between my teeth, I followed, eagerly watching as Johnny reached forward. His fingertips slipped beneath the waist of Simon’s shorts. 

“Makin’ yourselves useful, huh?” Simon grinned, lifting his hips off the couch. His cock hung heavy between his thick thighs, flushed and leaking. I reached out, wrapping my fingers around the base of his cock. A soft noise fell from me as Johnny leaned in, licking up the underside of his shaft. Stopping at his flushed tip, he wrapped his lips around the head, slowly taking him into his mouth. 

“Good fuckin’ pet. Thas’ it.” Simon groaned, hips bucking up into Johnny’s mouth. Inching closer, I traced the vein on the underside of his cock, traveling up before slowly sinking down. I flattened my tongue against his balls, saliva running down my chin. Opening my mouth wider, I took the delicate skin into my mouth, sucking gently. 

His fingers tangled in my hair, holding me still against his balls. Johnny gargled, saliva running down Simon’s shaft as he took more and more into his mouth. A low groan rumbled in his chest. I could feel him tensing in my mouth. Pulling off with a soft pop, I moved my attention to the other, laving my tongue over the neglected ball. 

Johnny gasped for air, tears brimming in his eyes as he pulled away. Tightening my grip on Simon’s shaft, I slowly stroked him up and down, turning to look at the Scot beside me. Thick tears rolled down his flushed cheeks. Leaning closer, I dragged my tongue up the side of his face, gathering the salt on my taste buds. 

His eyes seemed to darken when I pulled away. His pupils, now dilated, flicked to my lips and back up. Grinning, I pulled away, bringing my lips back to Simon’s throbbing cock. I licked a thick strip up the side. My eyes stayed locked onto the Scot, half-lidded. 

He moaned, bringing his lips to the other side of Simon’s cock. Our tongues brushed against each other as we licked up and down Simon’s leaking length. With a grunt, the Brit snaked his hand through my hair, gripping my locks tightly. He held me firmly against his length, tugging Johnny closer.

My eyelids fluttered closed as he rolled his hips forward, using our open mouths as a fleshlight. A low moan fell from him, heavy breaths leaving his heaving chest. I placed my hand on Johnny’s thigh, squeezing gently as the Englishman fucked our faces. 

“Fuckin’ slags- shit-” he groaned. His thick thighs tensed, quivering ever so slightly as he chased his arousal. “So close- I can’t-” He stilled, cock twitching as he pushed us away. Heavy breaths left his puffy lips. A deep blush settled on his cheeks, traveling down his neck. 

“Not here, need to feel you both,” he spoke through panting breaths. Johnny rose to his feet, palming over his stiffening cock. I followed, holding my hand out for Simon. 

The blonde kicked his shorts off the rest of the way. He stepped forward, towering over me. Rising onto my heels, I tugged at the collar of his shirt. He hummed, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my lips. The taste of salmon from our dinner earlier lingered on his breath. I pulled away, the hardwood flooring squeaking as I stepped toward the bedroom. His fingers tensed around mine. 

Johnny leaned against the doorframe, blue eyes meeting mine for only a moment as I stepped inside the bedroom. Our fingers untangled, my hand moving to the hem of my shirt. I turned to both men as I tugged the thin fabric over my head. Simon hummed, his brown eyes taking in every bare inch of my body. 

Johnny's arms wrapped around Simon’s waist, his thick fingers slipping beneath the blonde's shirt. 

“C’mon. Gonnae make you feel so good, Si,” the Scot cooed, lifting the fabric over his stomach. I walked around the foot of the bed, slowly circling to the other side. The deep blush spread over his bare chest. His muscles shifted under his skin as he tossed the fabric aside. 

“Lay back,” Johnny turned Simon to face him with a hand on his hip. I slipped my thumbs beneath the band of my shorts, easing the cotton over my hips. The mattress dipped as Simon sat on the edge of the bed. Shifting his weight onto his elbow, he kept his eyes glued on the brunette. 

The fabric pooled around my ankles. Kneeling on the edge of the bed, I moved to sit behind Simon’s head. Laying flat against the mattress, he looked up at me with furrowed brows. I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“So good for us, Si,” I said, my lips curling into a crooked smile. 

A soft click drew my attention. Johnny pushed open the cap of a lube bottle. Biting down on his lip, he spread a thick line over his fingers. He brought the digits to Simon’s hole, slowly circling the tight muscle. 

“Been a while, ain’t it?” Johnny said, sinking a digit inside of Simon. 

“Oh fuck-“ Simon moaned, reaching for his cock. He slowly stroked himself, fingers loosely wrapped around the base of his cock. His plush lips parted as Johnny pumped his finger into his hole at a steady pace. 

“You’re so tight, L.T.” The brunette slipped another finger alongside the other. “That oughta open you up.” His knuckles thumped against Simon’s thighs.

I cradled Simon’s head in my hands. His face contorted in pleasure as a stream of moans fell from his lips. His hole squelched around Johnny’s fingers, every thrust drawing a shaky breath from his chest. 

His moans drew higher in pitch as a third digit pushed past his entrance. He stroked his cock faster, his back arching off the mattress.

“Just fuck me, Johnny-” he sputtered in between panting breaths. 

“Eager thing,” the Scot cooed. He pulled his fingers back, earning a soft whine from Simon. Heat rushed to my face as his voice filled my ears. A low whine as Johnny pushed his hips forward, sinking the head of his cock inside of Simon. A breathless moan as he added inch after inch until bottoming out. 

“Takin’ him so well, aren’t you?” I cooed, my thumb gently stroking his cheeks. The blonde nodded, staring up at me with glazed-over eyes. 

Johnnys head tilted back, a groan falling from his throat as he rolled his hips into Simon. The Brit’s grip on his cock grew tighter. Precum beaded at the tip of his flushed cock. 

“Fuck- you feel so good,” Johnny moaned, splaying his palm across Simon’s thigh. 

Simon’s gaze met, brown eyes glimmering with tears that threatened to spill. A silver string of saliva connected his parted lips. Reaching up, his hands settled over mine, thick fingers encasing my wrists. 

“Sit on my face,” he said, his voice laced with heavy breaths. “Need to taste you.” 

Heat bloomed in my neck as a deep blush settled over my face. Looking down at Simon, at the desperation written on his face, I let a soft noise slip from my tongue. 

Rising to my knees, I glanced down at the blonde before settling my hips over his face. His broad hands settled on my thighs, pulling me down onto his face. 

“Oh, fuck-” I moaned as his tongue ran up my core. He groaned against my cunt, sparking jolts of electricity up my spine. My eyes fluttered closed as my hips moved against his tongue. 

Reaching forward, I wrapped my fingers around his twitching cock. Another soft noise spilled from his heaving chest. A soft pair of lips met mine, stubble brushing against my skin. 

Spit ran down my inner thighs as Simon pressed open-mouthed kisses to my cunt. His grip on my hips tightened, pulling me flush against his mouth. His lips wrapped around my clit, sucking harshly. 

“Messy eater, ain’t he?” Johnny said, pulling away from my lips. “But he takes cock like a fuckin’ slag.”

Another groan ignited my nerves. My thighs quivered on either side of his head. I tensed under his touch, my muscles pulling taut. My jaw went slack as a stream of desperate, unfiltered noises left my mouth.

“Just like that, Si-” I sputtered, rutting my hips forward. His tongue flicked against my clit, easing me closer to my climax. Shaking his head, he messily lapped up my arousal, moaning at the taste on his tongue. His cock twitched in my hand, precum running over my knuckles. 

“He’s gripping me like a vice,” Johnny groaned. “Nothin’ like a face full of pussy to get ya goin’, aye Si?” His blue eyes dropped to my core, and the pair of puffy lips wrapped around my clit. 

With my other hand, I pressed down on Simon’s stomach, feeling the nudge of Johnnys cockhead from inside the Brit’s stomach. I clenched around nothing, catching my bottom lip between my teeth. 

“Fuck- I’m close.” I moaned. Settling back onto my shins, his grip on my hips tensed. I reached behind, tangling my fingers in his blonde locks and pulling him impossibly closer to my cunt. 

Heat pooled in my limbs, slowly rising to lick at my thighs. Damp strands of hair stuck to my forehead. Tension swelled in my stomach, pulling my spine like a string. Sighing, I dropped my head as a wave of burning hot pleasure washed over me. 

I tensed, my thighs squeezing his head. My hips rocked against his tongue, pulling me through my orgasm. A low groan rumbled in his chest. His fingernails dug into my skin, leaving behind angry red scrapes that would surely follow me to the next day. 

When I opened my eyes, I was met with the sight of a pool of cum settling in the divot of his sternum. My chest heaved as I took in heavy breaths. Heat rolled off of my skin like steam. Groaning, I rolled over onto my side. 

“Thas’ a good boy,” Johnny cooed as he pulled out. Simon was still hard, his heavy cock resting against his stomach. Biting down on my lip, I glanced over at Johnny. The Scot’s thick fingers were wrapped around the base of his cock. 

My palm ghosted the skin of Simon’s hip before settling on his cock. The blonde looked up at me with lust-filled eyes, watching as I swung my leg over his hip. The mattress springs squealed as Johnny settled himself beside Simon’s head. 

A breathless groan left Simon’s chest as I nudged the head of his cock inside my entrance. His brows furrowed, eyelids fluttering closed as I slowly sank down on his length. Taking inch after inch, I drew in a shaky breath, gasping when his hips met my ass. 

Soft slapping echoed through the room as Johnny tapped his throbbing cock on Simon’s cheek. 

“C’mon. You gonna get me off too?” He bit down on his lip, watching as the Brit slowly parted his lips. His tongue swirled around the tip of Johnny's cock. 

Leaning forward, I shifted my weight onto my hands, slowly rolling my hips, fucking back against his length. Simon moaned as he wrapped his lips around the head of Johnny's cock. 

“That’s it, suck my cock,” Johnny cooed, pushing more of his length into Simon’s mouth. His palms guided my hips, moving me on his twitching cock. Pulling out with a pop, the Scot tapped his cock against Simon’s tongue, chuckling as he stroked his length. 

Johnny inched forward, staring down at the blonde as he stroked his cock. Soon enough he caught the hint, taking one of the Scot’s balls into his mouth. Moaning, I leaned in, circling my tongue around the head of his cock. 

The taste of lube tainted his skin, feeling heavy on my tongue as I took more of his length into my mouth. I could feel Simon twitching inside me, barely holding on as I wrapped my lips around Johnny's cock. The Scot’s fingers tangled in my hair, tugging me closer. 

“Oh- I’m gonna cum-” he sputtered, his hips bucking forward uncontrollably. Salt coated my taste buds, trickling down my throat as he spilled into my mouth. Pulling off with a pop, I hastily pressed a kiss to the blonde beneath me. 

Pushing my tongue into his mouth, I let the musky taste of Johnnys cum seep onto his tongue. With a moan, he rocked his hips up into me, meeting every thrust. The brunette moaned, falling back against the pillows. 

“Fuck…tha’ taste good?” He asked, palm landing harshly on my ass. I moaned into Simon’s mouth, pressure seeping into the pit of my stomach. My brows furrowed as I rode him faster, pulling soft whines from his flushed chest. 

My pace grew erratic, cockhead grinding against my insides. My hands cradled the Brit’s face. Pulling back, his brown eyes met mine, flicking frantically across my face. 

“Simon, I’m gonna cum. Are you close?” I asked, rolling my hips forward. Breathlessly, he nodded, leaning in for another kiss. The Scot reached out, gently brushing away strands of sweat-soaked hair. 

My nerve endings ignited, pulsing as the stimulation sent jolts of pleasure up my spinal cord. I buried my face in the crook of his shoulder, teeth sinking into his skin. I stilled, my thighs clenching around his broad hips. 

Grunting, he thrusted up into me, cock twitching as he came. His toned arms wrapped around my body, keeping me flush against his chest as he rode out his orgasm.

Our heavy breaths slowly grew softer, settling into a gentle rhythm. Humming, I pressed my lips to the round mark left behind by my teeth. 

Turning to rest my cheek against his chest, a pair of blue eyes met me. A smile slowly crept over my face. Leaning in, the Scot pressed a kiss to my forehead, pulling back only to do the same to Simon. 

“Can one of you two twats put on a kettle?”

Masterlist

[writingwithciara]

across the hall; part 10 -quinn hughes-

summary: y/n moves in across the hall from quinn and in an emergency, she leaves her five-year old daughter in his care

word count: 1.3k

pairing: quinn hughes x reader

notes: only one more part after this one. thank you guys for coming along on this ride with me 🥰

the conversation never came.

neither of them really cared, however. with christmas happening, they were both suddenly super busy.

and shortly after christmas, was abby's 6th birthday so whenever y/n had free time, it was going into making sure her daughter had the best birthday ever.

by mid-january, everything between them was back to normal with an occasional flutter of feelings from both sides. but they swept it under the rug.

at least, that's what y/n thought.

exactly one week before abby's party, y/n was asked to work a double shift. normally she would hate them but she needed the money if she wanted to give abby the party of her dreams.

by the time she got home, it was well past midnight so she wasn't surprised that the apartment was so quiet. however, she was surprised to see a light on in abby's room. so she ventured down the hallway and stopped in the doorway to take in the sight before her.

quinn and abby were curled up in abby's little bed together. quinn was holding a fairy tale book in his hand while a crown sat atop his head and a feather boa was gently wrapped around his neck. his feet were hanging way off the end of the bed.

y/n pulled out her phone to take a picture. it was something she truly wanted to cherish. she also needed something as proof of the very moment she decided to stop fighting her feelings for him.

~~~~~~~~~~

the day before the birthday party, y/n tried to send money to everyone involved with the process. but each money transfer was declined. everyone claimed they were happy to help out, but y/n had a suspicion something else was going on.

so she called jack. he answered after the 2nd ring.

"hey. what's up?"

"hey. do you know anything about why the caterer, decorator and everyone else involved with abby's party keeps declining any payment from me?"

"i might. what's in it for me if i tell you?"

"the title of abby's absolute favorite uncle?"

"already have it. next."

"actually, i believe she handed that title over to brock before christmas."

"what? i'm gonna have to talk to this evil dictator at her party tomorrow."

"relax, jack. she's 6. she's far from a dictator."

"well, then i'll have to have a little chat with the princess tomorrow."

"yeah you will." y/n smiled. "now, what can you tell me about the payment declines?"

"quinn paid everyone like 2 months ago. i thought you knew."

"what? why would he do that?"

"he didn't want you to stress about it. he wanted to do something nice for you guys."

"he's already doing something nice for us. he's letting us live here with a severely reduced rent for a vancouver apartment."

"well i guess he just really wants you to be happy then. i'm not sure." jack chuckled. "oh. he told me that he got abby that toy she's been talking about for the last few months."

"how did he manage that? it's been sold out basically since it went on the shelves."

"i've said too much. sworn to secrecy." y/n could hear the smirk through the phone, followed by luke's voice. "hey. i gotta go but i will see you and abby in the morning. bye."

"bye jack." y/n hung up and glanced down the hallway towards quinn's bedroom door.

yup. she was definitely in love with him.

~~~~~~~~~~

the next morning, quinn was awake before anyone else so he decided to make breakfast. he asked abby last night what her favorite breakfast food was and she replied bacon. lots of bacon.

so quinn quickly fried up several strips and threw some eggs in the pan. he was in the middle of grating some cheese when he heard a door open. he glanced up just as y/n walked into the kitchen.

"good morning."

"morning." y/n rubbed her eyes and walked over to the counter to grab a mug but quinn stopped her and handed her a warm mug.

"i already made you a mug. hope you like it."

"thank you." she sipped it slowly. "what's the occasion?"

"well it is your daughter's birthday."

"what does that have to do with why you're making me coffee?" she raised an eyebrow and continued to drink the delicious beverage.

"because i'm a nice person." he shrugged and went back to making breakfast. y/n slid onto a stool at the island and glanced at the tv. of course hockey highlights were playing.

"i know you paid for everyone that'll be working the party."

"what do you mean?"

"don't play dumb with me. jack let it spill last night when i asked him. also, i kinda had a feeling when everyone declined the payment."

"i'm sorry. please don't be mad. i just wanted you to not have to stress about it."

"i'm not mad, quinn. i'm just surprised." she looked at him. "i'm paying you back for it, just so you know."

"the hell you are." quinn pointed his spatula at her and chuckled as she slipped a piece of bacon into her mouth. "you will do no such thing."

"quinn, you're too generous. please let me pay it back."

"i can't do that." he shook his head.

"why not? you're already making it easy with the rent. i feel like i'm taking advantage of your kindness."

"you're not. not even close."

"i'm gonna pay you back, whether you like it or not."

"if you want to pay me back, then just keep smiling. that will do just fine."

"quinn." she began to protest but abby walked into the kitchen. "happy birthday, sweetheart."

"happy birthday, princess."

"thank you." abby walked over to the plate of bacon. "is this why you asked me my favorite breakfast food last night?"

"yeah. wanted to make sure you had a great start to your day."

"thank you. i love you!" she squealed and hugged quinn. he picked her up and continued cooking.

"love you too." he smiled and kissed the top of her head. y/n watched the scene in front of her and felt her heart skip a beat.

she was certainly in deep with her roommate.

a few hours later, abby was sitting with jack and luke as they looked around the party. earlier in the week, they had devised a plan to get y/n and quinn together & their plan was about to be put into action.

"be right back." luke nodded towards quinn and walked over to his oldest brother. jack looked over at y/n.

"ready for this, princess?"

"born ready." abby grabbed his hand and walked over to her mom. "mom?"

"hey sweetie. are you enjoying the party?"

"i am. it's the best day of my life. thank you for setting this all up for me."

"i'd love to accept the credit. but it was all quinn. you should thank him."

"will you come with me?"

"sure, honey." y/n set her cup down on the window sill and grabbed abby's hand. she didn't miss the look abby gave jack as they walked over to quinn.

"hey. are you enjoying the party?"

"i love it. thank you, quinn." she hugged his leg then ran back over to jack.

"yeah. thanks again for all of this. i really appreciate it." y/n looked at him. "i truly do. and i don't know how i'm going to repay you for it all. but i'll find a way you'll aceept."

"i already told you all you have to do is keep that beautiful smile and it'll be perfect payment."

y/n surveyed him for a second before she placed a kiss on his cheek. "you are truly an amazing man, quinn hughes."

"i would do anything for you." he looked into her eyes for a brief moment before he decided the needed to tell her how he felt. "and i love you. like, a lot. more than any roommate should."

"well i guess that means it's my turn."

"what do you mean?"

"i have a confession to make." she glanced up at him. "i love you too. definitely way more than a roommate should."

"wait, for real? you're not messing with me?"

"nope. i'm being 100% honest with you." y/n smiled. "and who wouldn't fall in love with you? you've done so much for me and abby and i know i keep saying that i'm gonna pay you back, but we both know you would never accept any payment. so i'm gonna have to think of other ways to do it."

quinn didn't hesitate & he hoped he wasn't reading her signals wrong when he crashed his lips to hers. she kissed him back almost immediately as she wrapped her arms around his neck. everyone surrounding them began cheering and abby ran up to them.

"are you guys finally together?" she asked and looked up at them.

"well, it's up to your mom. i don't want to assume anything."

"don't you think there's something you should ask me first?" y/n smirked, raising an eyebrow in the teasing way she does, causing quinn to chuckle.

"right." he smiled. "do you want to be my girlfriend?"

"i'll have to think about it." y/n smiled.

"but mom!"

"i'm kidding, abby." y/n looked up at quinn. "of course i'd love to be your girlfriend." and they sealed it with a kiss.

"about damn time!" abby threw her hands up and hugged them both.

"jack, did you teach her that phrase?!" quinn glanced at his brother, who just threw up his own hands in surrender. y/n smiled and rested her head on quinn's shoulder.

"moving across the hall from you was the best thing i've ever done."

----------

tags: @alwaysclassyeagle @justagingerliving @marroonwitch @hwalllllllelujah @lovelyhischier

[gingerteafairy]

Hiiii

Could you write a bimbo (kinda dumb) reader x Rodrick ?

hiii, sure. i think i can't really make a good bimbo reader, but i tried lol

𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒍

tags n warnings: fluff. word count: +700 masterlist

If there was one thing Rodrick imagined before having a girlfriend, it was teaching a girl to play the drums. In theory, it seemed amazing. He would guide you patiently, correct your posture, and in the end, you'd share a perfect moment together. But in practice, it was turning into a real nightmare. He rested his chin on his hand, watching with a mix of despair and fascination as you almost destroyed the drumheads, threw the cymbals like frisbees, and hit the toms with no sense of rhythm whatsoever.

The moment you dropped the drumsticks and clapped for yourself, a proud smile lit up your face. “That transition was everything. I looked amazing in that rockstar girlfriend vibe.” You turned to him, tossing your hair back. “It sounded so good this time, don’t you think?”

Rodrick blinked a few times, still processing what he had just witnessed. “Well... it had... a lot of personality.” He tried to soften it, hoping it wouldn’t sound as bad as it did. But by the way your expression shifted, he realized he had failed miserably.

“A lot of personality?” You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. “Rod, we only say that when a guy is hideously stinky ugly and we don’t want to be mean when we reject them.”

Rodrick opened and closed his mouth a few times, desperately searching for an escape. “No... you were good, it was... he just doesn’t know how to take pictures?” He raised his eyebrows, as if that could somehow fix the situation.

You widened your eyes, indignant, and jumped to your feet. Rodrick widened his as well, feeling his heart race.

“No, wait!” He chased after you, grabbing your arm before you could escape. “I was just kidding. You were... great?”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was being serious. Your eyes lit up and a smile started forming on your lips.

“Really?” Your voice came out in a hopeful tone, and you held his hands near your chest.

Rodrick felt warmth rise to his face. He looked away for a second, swallowed, and then met your gaze again.

“Yeah…” He licked his lips, flashing a shy smile.

The next second, you let out an excited squeal and jumped into his arms, slightly knocking him back. Rodrick laughed, pulling you into a tight hug. Your perfume mixed with the scent of his shampoo, making your presence even more addictive. He closed his eyes for a moment, rolling them in delight. God, he wanted to get lost in your hair and never be found again.

“You think I can pull off that drum fill from the rock version of Baby One More Time?” You asked, pulling back a little to look at him. 

Rodrick tilted his head to the side, analyzing the question as if it were something very serious. “With all due respect, my sweet, pookie, heart...” He bit his lip to hold in his laughter. “I’d prefer you in the audience.”

You huffed, crossing your arms again. “Was that your cute way of calling me a terrible drummer?”

“No… No, baby, no.” Rodrick slid his hands up to your face, holding it gently. “I think your style suits metal much better.”

“But they’re just a bunch of guys screaming with nonsense noises... It’s awful. A total mess.” You pouted, wrinkling your nose.

Rodrick laughed, his eyes shining with amusement. “And you know I love all that mess.” He leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on your cheek, feeling the warm skin under his lips. “How about we go to the mall so you can clear your head?”

“But you hate going to the mall, Rod.” You frowned, suspicious. 

“Yeah, I do.” He shrugged. “But I hate even more seeing you upset because you can’t play the drums. It’s hard, no one becomes a pro in two days.”

Your face lit up with a mischievous smile. “Are you gonna let me do your makeup?” Your eyes sparkled with excitement.

Rodrick sighed, already knowing he wouldn’t escape unscathed. “Just don’t do those weird things again. I’ll look like David Bowie.”

You let out a laugh and pinched his nose. “No, hon. You can’t look like David Hasselhoff. He’s huge.”

Rodrick blinked a few times, confused, and laughed along, shaking his head. “You’re a real sweetheart. I can’t say no to you.”

[jtl07]

Hahaha, loved the start of this shenanigans-round! What a fun prompt and your answer to it 🤣 Okay, here is one for you: meet cute and lots of bad (funny?) pick up lines

lolol oh anon, this prompt made me giggle a bunch but also stressed me out bc being funny is *so* hard D: hopefully this works??? 

"Why don't I trust stairs? Because they're always up to something."

Beatrice shakes her head, half of her attention on the latte she's in the middle of preparing while the other half is on the bright voice at the table nearest the register, as it has been for the past hour now. 

A section of the cafe has been cordoned off for a "Donuts and Dates" event hosted by a queer speed dating group. Camila had befriended the owners a few months ago, had insisted that the business would be worth the work. Now several events in, Beatrice grudgingly agrees. Certainly isn't complaining today. 

Beatrice finishes her latest order and lets her eyes follow her attention. Ava's nametag is slightly askew on the shirt pocket, her energetic wiggling having dislodged it early on. The unbuttoned overshirt is overshadowed by the neon splotched crop top with an orange circled by the words "orange you glad to see me?" - it's as loud as Ava herself is and Beatrice can't help but find herself endeared. 

"Oh, you're a photographer? Can you picture us together?" 

Beatrice barely holds back a laugh, biting back her reaction as a customer steps up to the register. She has to give it to her: Ava has been the most enthusiastic and creative participants she's seen at these events by far. Part of her hopes Ava will be back but at the same time, she wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't - is surprised that Ava's here at all, that she doesn't already have a line of suitors at her beck and call. It helps that she's pretty, that she listens so intently, that her laugh seems to light up the whole room. 

For a moment, Beatrice wonders what would happen if she were to ask Camila to cover for her behind the counter, to take a turn at Ava's table. Almost considers it for real but by the time she actually thinks to call out to Camila, the organizers are announcing the end of the event. 

Beatrice sighs, pulls her customer service smile over her face as she tends to the last minute orders from the attendees. The cafe is finally quieting down when she looks up to greet the last person in line: Ava. 

"So which one did you like best?" 

Beatrice blinks at the mischievous grin, can only answer with a half-intelligent, "Pardon?" 

Ava's expression doesn't change as she leans forward on the counter. "Which joke? I know you were listening." 

Beatrice can feel a blush rising up her neck. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop -"

Ava shrugs and waves Beatrice's words away. "I'm loud - I get enough noise complaints from my neighbors to know."

Beatrice swallows down a sudden urge to choke. 

"It was the Fanta sea one, wasn't it?" Ava's shoulders wiggle, her grin as wide as it's ever been. "I saw you almost drop that drink." 

Beatrice straightens, ignoring the blush now creeping up her cheeks. "I was merely adjusting my hold," her tone bordering more on flustered than indignant. She hadn't realized that having a view of Ava had meant that she'd also have a view of her; that Ava had been looking at all. 

Ava hums, a teasing sound that Beatrice pretends not to file away along with the other sounds Ava's made that evening. When Beatrice hands Ava her drink, there's an intent look on Ava's face. She braces herself for whatever Ava's about to say next, tries not to get lost in the way Ava's mouth is already curling into a smirk. 

"Have you ever thought about working at a museum?" 

Beatrice groans softly. "Oh dear." 

Ava's grin is blinding as she continues. "Because you're a work of art." 

Beatrice shakes her head, about to dismiss the line for the joke that it is but makes the mistake of meeting Ava's gaze; finds herself caught in a softness she didn't expect. "Really, Bea. What you are is beautiful." 

Beatrice finds herself unable to laugh it off, feels herself wanting to respond in kind; wants to try. "You're one to talk," she says shyly. 

It's not much but it's enough to make Ava literally bounce on her toes. "Then it's a date then?" Beatrice is sure her confusion is on her face when Ava explains, "We'll go visit where we belong!"

Beatrice does laugh then, helpless in the face of Ava's enthusiasm. "Well, there is a new exhibit at the museum near here." She'd been planning to go by herself - none of her friends are much interested, but she's pleasantly surprised when Ava's eyes light up in recognition. 

"I know exactly what you're talking about! I saw a flyer last week, there's supposed to be -"

Someone loudly clears their throat next to them. 

Beatrice turns, sheepish, and finds Camila looking amusedly between the two of them. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but we really need to start closing up." 

Ava sputters an apology and starts grabbing her things - drink in one hand, phone and cane in the other - and Beatrice knows she has to think fast. In her panic, she grabs a stray napkin and writes down her phone number. Then, seeing that Ava's hands are full, takes a breath and musters up all the courage she can: reaches out and tucks the napkin into Ava's shirt pocket. 

Pink flushes over Ava's cheeks, frozen for a moment before she laughs, delighted.  "I guess I'll see you later," she says as she backs up to the cafe's front door, Camila helpfully holding it open for her. 

Beatrice bites at her lip, decides to give her one last parting gift. "Hopefully not too much later - the tide can only wait for so long." 

Ava gapes at her, the door nearly crashing into her face as it closes. Camila gives her an impressed look, to which Beatrice can only shrug, though she can't fight the grin overtaking her face, her mind already looking forward to the next time they'll meet.

[stolitzsings]

Favorite picture of Stolas?

(From the ask game you posted)

Ouggghhhh okay so the last time I answered this question it was a picture from Just Look My Way, but now we've had Sinsmas so LIKE. Everything Has Changed

There are so many gorgeous pictures of Stolas in this scene (not to mention Mastermind and the fight at the palace, UGH he's so pretty 😭😭😭😭) but I think I have to go with this one for just...everything it represents 🥺

It's the way we've watched him struggle with his depression and adjusting to his new life throughout the episode, and this is just. The one carefree moment he has. His head thrown back, laughing at Blitz’s flirtatious joke, comfortable and at ease for the first time in who knows how long. It's the way he so clearly trusts Blitz to hold him, and take his weight, despite their precarious position. It's the way he kicks his leg up, an unnecessary flourish born of that moment of lightness, matching Blitz’s playful energy.

And it's the way Blitz is looking at him, so completely smitten, so proud that he made Stolas laugh. The way his legs are positioned to give Stolas the most security, the way his hand goes automatically to brace his back.

There is just so much weight to this one frame, and how it's this perfect moment when they can both forget all the stress of what they've been through and just...hold each other, for real this time

ANYWAY this got long and now I need to go chew concrete I love them so much 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 thank you for the ask 😭😭😭😭😭

Still taking asks from this post if anyone wants to watch me self-inflict emotional damage 😭

[sincerelyzee]

old man!sebastian x old woman!reader | 735

“Sebastian! hurry it up in there!” your voice barely carried throughout the farmhouse. how can your husband be so slow when your babies were coming today? “relax, relax. i’m here.” he slowly makes his way out the door, his feet shuffling against the hardwood floor of the porch. when he passes you, you hear his mumble something strangely close to ‘toad’. you click your tongue at him and poke his back with your walking stick, earning a cheeky chuckle from him.

the two of you slowly make it down the stairs, making sure to hold onto the sidebars and then you both make your way to the bus stop to wait. “listen here, wife,” Sebastian starts, clearing his throat and gathering his words, “you’d better not hog all my kids like last time.” you roll your eyes at him and wave him off, “i’m serious! not even a hundred kisses would make me forgive you.”

“five kisses and you’ll have forgotten why you were angry.” you look at him, a challenging fire in your eyes. he pulls a sour face in response and kisses your cheek. “you may be right about that.” you smile and press a sweet kiss to his lips then pat his back, “you’ll come alright, just wait your turn.” you cheekily reassure him, he grumbles in response and you both turn into the bus stop and wait for the bus to arrive, hand in hand.

once you’ve greeted your daughter, your son in-law and their children, you all make it back to the farm. “dad, i hope you know we didn’t come so we can work on the farm.” he scoffs at your daughter’s words, “i said that to your mother when we married. look at where i am now.” your mouth opens in disbelief, “you offered to help me on the farm, you toad.” your daughter and son in-law both laugh at this exchange, making their daughters laugh, they all know how much he loves and cares for you and farm but enjoys being stubborn and making it sound like he hates the farm.

“Grandpa, why do you have scars on your mouth?” one of your grandchildren start, “and why do you have a hole on your eyebrow?” the other chimes in, “and so many holes in your ears?” the last one speaks up, “come inside, i’ll show you how cool Grandpa was when i was a youth.” he makes his way inside, looking for the picture album you started when you started dating all those years ago.

your daughter and her husband sit next to you on the bench on the porch, “mom, why don’t you and dad come back with us to the city? Pelican Town can be a holiday destination for all of us, then?” you shake your head profusely at her words. “never. now go water the plants in the greenhouse.” they both sigh and pick up watering cans and make their way to the greenhouse.

“what’s this i hear about moving to the city?” your husband emerges from the house to sit next to you. you shake your head, “she asked if we could leave with them to the city and only come back for holidays.” your head turns to look at him, to find out if that’s still a want of his. “who would tend to the farm?” he begins, giving the easy way out, “i thought you hated the farm?” you speak, he clicks his tongue, “this farm is my pride and joy. apart from our family.. and our marriage.. and the one time some years ago when i did that game for a client.. yeah. it’s fourth place.”

you roll your eyes and lean against him, his hand finds yours and he holds it then brings it up to press a lingering kiss. “that dream died a long time ago, honey,” a small smile sits on your lips but you don’t look at him “the city has nothing for me,” he sighs and kisses your hand again then he kisses your head.

“you are everything to me. i’ll die on this farm right next to you if that’s how you want me to prove it.”

a small laugh leaves your lips and you lean your head up to kiss his cheek. “you’ll die a bitter old man.” he smiles and kisses your forehead, “i'll die as your bitter old man, wouldn’t i?”

an: can a baddie emo loser hit my line and we go buy a plot of land to farm on and get married and get old and die together?

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

hey dear <3 hope you're having a lovely day. nsfw warning (no idea if it's needed but!!): need need need to hear your thoughts on cockwarming sam while you both read

Have I mentioned recently how much I adore all of you and your depraved minds? No? Well, here is a reminder. You guys are my people. I love it here. ❤️❤️❤️

As you probably can tell if you read my stuff I'm not super into Big Bad Dom Sam for the most part - I see him more as a pleasure dom (although I don't think he would explicitly call himself that, at least not until he's older. He reads a lot of books on the topic. Of course he does). BUT I can also see him be a really sweet, caring but strict brat tamer? Does that make sense? Anyway, I'm getting off topic.

Okay, so there's two ways I can see this going:

The first one is Sam being in control, but I could picture him being a little playful. His girl's on his lap, back turned to him, and he might keep running one hand over her back, maybe even massage her a little, and then occasionally tickling her, just a little. It's silly, but the way she squeezes him when she flinches and giggles isn't. It's a good thing she can't see Sam's face too, because he's acting cool but he needs to squeeze his eyes shut every time she does, maybe bite his lip.

At some point, of course, it becomes too much, and Sam either tips both of them forward, bends her over the table and starts fucking her without ever slipping out of her. Or he might not even make it to the table, instead wrapping his arms around her, tossing the book somewhere (he would never do that) and just start thrusting up into her, his face pressed into her hair. Quick and dirty, even though of course it isn't, because it feels like they've been sitting there for hours.

And while I do think Sam might have a bit of a control thing with sex, I can't neglect subby Sam, my beloved.

It's her idea, of course, because Sam wouldn't even dare to think to ask for something like this. So when she surprises him while they're lying in bed, pulls his boxers down, makes him hard, lets him push into her and then fucking stops moving? Picks up her book like it's nothing, like he's not balls deep and leaking and throbbing inside her? He freezes, stares like an idiot. Is he supposed to do something?

So he licks his lips, goes back to it as well, but it's very hard to concentrate. Every time he thinks he might be going soft she does that little wiggle and his stomach muscles clench and he's back up. It's exhausting and uncomfortable, but he thinks this is the best thing to ever happen to him. When he shifts around too much, she raises her eyebrows at him.

"What's the matter, Sam?" she asks, like he can't feel her warm and wanting around him.

"N-nothing," he stutters, because it would be awkward to say something now, right? And then, just when he thinks he's getting used to it, is maybe really starting to enjoy it, she puts her book down, starts grinding against him. Sammy doesn't last for long then, but that's okay. His brow is twisted into those deep ripples, his lips parted and he whimpers. For a moment, he keeps his hands to himself, but then they fly to some part of her body, squeezing her flesh cause he needs something to hold on to, something to keep him in the moment.

He comes shaking and whining, his entire body trembling and his head falls forward, exhaustion overtaking him. She tussles his hair and coos to him.

"Good boy, Sammy," she says, and if this is what being good gets him then put him on Santa's list, cause he's never doing anything else again.

And now I'm off to have a meeting with my department lead. Definitely won't be thinking about this the entire time. This was SO fun, thank you, anon, it brought me so much joy! ❤️