#using the same tags because I'm lazy

[unma]

Aight, that's enough queuing for the night. I'm heading to bed.

[pardi-real]

Holy cow.

TIL the word for how a word or a name is pronounced is written as "pronunciation". I really thought it was "pronounciation".

Pro-Nun. Well I love Arknights Specter.

That reminds me some years ago I was absolutely bamboozled by "similar" & "available", I thought those were written as "similiar" & "avaible" .

My life is a lie.. all this from being curious on how to pronounce "Berrien County Jail".

[theflyingfeeling]

Hi dear, so excited to see you doing Valentines promts again!

How about Olli/Allu having a very moomin date? 👀

Hiiiiii! I'm so excited to be writing these again! <3 Here it comes, my first Valentine's Day prompt fic of the season! ✨

First of all, I'm not sure if this is moominous enough for you, sweet anon, but I hope you like it nevertheless 💖

Second of all, this maaaaaaay have gotten a little out of hand, and not only in terms of the wordcount. You'll see what I'm talking about when you read it 🤭

It's kind of an AU, but nothing too specific, just your regular no-band AU in which Olli and Allu meet each other for the first time (in person). Again, read and find out 🙏

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words: 5708 (see? unnecesarily long 🙄 so you better make yourself a nice cup of something and just sit back for this one!)

rating: something between G and T, I guess 😅

trigger warnings: none, but prepare for a whole lot of pining and a bit of sillyness, as per usual 🥰

edit. now also on AO3 💖

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Your Tinder date wants to take you where?”

Aleksi sighed as they stopped to wait for the traffic light to turn green.

“First of all, it’s not a date, and certainly not a Tinder one,” Aleksi corrected Niko for about the twelfth time that day. He still regretted telling his friend he was meeting this guy he had been chatting with on a discussion board almost daily for over a year. Too embarrassed to admit it was a platform for fantasy role play, Aleksi had seen it best to simply answer “online” when Niko had asked him how he had met Olli, which naturally had led to Niko promptly deciding “online” equalled a dating app. “Second of all, I don’t think he’s actually taking me to the Moomin Café, we’re only meeting there.”

“Of all the places in the city?” 

“It’s a recognizable landmark!” Aleksi exclaimed and proceeded to picture the two-metre Moomin statue that stood in front of the theme café dedicated to beloved literature characters. With a small smile forming on his lips, he then imagined his internet friend waiting for him beside it, hopefully wearing the cool leather jacket Aleksi had seen in pictures, and was almost left behind when Niko suddenly jaywalked across the street.

“Still,” his friend said when Aleksi strode to catch him up, “the place doesn’t exactly ooze romance.”

“I told you, it’s not–”

“Not a date? Then why on earth did you send me all those selfies of you posing in different outfits, asking for my opinion? I’ve never seen you want to impress anyone that bad without hoping to get in their Moomin sheets.”

“I’m not– wait, what?” Aleksi turned to look at Niko to see the man hardly able to hide his amusement.

“Well, since he’s taking you to a Moomin café I suppose he also has–”

“Just– just shut up, okay? Whatever he has in his bed is irrelevant because we are not–” Aleksi’s heart almost stopped when his eyes spotted the enormous Moomintroll down the boulevard and, indeed, a man he recognized as Olli standing next to it. To Aleksi’s mild disappointment, Olli wasn’t wearing the leather jacket but a simple outfit of black pants, a white t-shirt and what seemed to be a bucket hat on his head. He had a searching look in his eyes, stopping to glance at almost every passerby as his fingers fumbled with the zipper of the waist bag he was wearing across his chest.

“Is that him?” Niko whispered as they approached the front of the café.

“Y-yeah,” Aleksi said and cleared his throat, surprised to hear his own voice come out so hoarse and breathless, just because he caught a glimpse of his long-time internet friend for the first time in person.

All the way walking downtown, Aleksi had been annoyed by Niko’s insinuations about the date (which was not a date) with his online boyfriend (who was not his boyfriend), all the while trying to calm down the strange feeling in his stomach that he tried to explain with having drank too much coffee at breakfast (which he chalked up to barely having slept the previous night (because his head had been full of Olli and his rosy cheeks and gentle eyes until dawn, stuck in his mind after they had said goodnight to each other on Skype at two in the morning)). He had rolled his eyes at Niko’s merciless teasing, because there was no way he was going to admit he had been counting the days until they’d finally see each other face-to-face, sighing longingly or giggling into his pillow whenever he imagined even standing in front of Olli, mere metres away from all that charm and beauty that had Aleksi forget his lines during role play or smile to himself when he saw something that reminded him of Olli.

Maybe he’d even be bold enough to hug him. From Olli’s Instagram Aleksi had gathered Olli didn’t shy away from physical endearments, at least not with that curly-head blond Olli had told him was his best and oldest friend – “like a brother,” Olli had said, and Aleksi tried to ignore why hearing that had been such a relief – but of course Aleksi couldn’t know whether being physically affectionate applied only to Olli’s closest friends. He wouldn’t blame Olli for wanting to just nod at him from a respectful distance on their first meeting; he was still, all things considered, just some random dude he had started speaking with on the internet one blessed day.

They were roughly ten metres away from the entrance of the café when Olli finally noticed him. When their eyes met each other, the curve of Olli’s eyebrows softened and his lips parted, but then he directed his gaze to Niko walking next to Aleksi, and suddenly he looked just as lost and nervous as he had just moments before while he had been waiting for Aleksi to show up.

“Right, I guess this is where I leave you to it. If he turns out to be a serial killer or some other kinda lunatic, just give me a call and I’ll come rescue you, yeah?” Niko tapped Aleksi’s shoulder and skipped to the other side of the street before Aleksi could argue that he was pretty convinced Olli was neither of those things and that he wouldn't need to be rescued, thank you very much.

Aleksi saw Olli’s shoulders relax as he walked closer, then his lips starting to curve upwards. When there were only a few metres separating them, Olli glanced at the ground before looking up at Aleksi again, no longer able to hide his smile. 

“Hi,” Olli said softly and stretched out his arms towards Aleksi.

“Hi,” Aleksi sighed, and when Olli pulled him into a hug he was sure he was going to cry. Olli felt as soft as he looked and smelled even better than what Aleksi had imagined in his head, of honey and perhaps a hint of citrus. 

“So good to see you,” Olli said, much closer to Aleksi’s ear than he had anticipated, so close that it gave him goosebumps, even though in Olli’s embrace he felt warmer than he ever had in his life before.

“Yes, at last,” Aleksi agreed. All the sudden dopamine in his system made him so daring that he nudged the side of Olli’s head with his, causing the man’s hat to fall off. 

“Woops,” Olli laughed as he noticed the impact their embrace had on his headwear and finally let go of Aleksi.

“Sorry,” Aleksi smiled, crouching to pick up the hat. Handing it back to Olli, he noticed the Moomin character embroidered on it.

In his mind, he saw Niko raising his eyebrows knowingly.

“Shall we go in? They have an offer on cinnamon rolls today.”

Did I not tell you so? Aleksi heard Niko’s voice in his head. 

Yeah, and? Aleksi telepathically replied to his friend; with the way Olli was smiling at him, a little shy and his Groke bucket hat somewhat askew as he held the door to the café open for him, Aleksi would’ve walked through the gates of Hell if that’s where Olli wanted to take him.

Aleksi nearly gasped when Olli touched his lower black lightly as they entered the café, gently guiding him forward to the cosy coffee shop that filled Aleksi’s nostrils with the mixed aroma of brewed goods and freshly-baked bun. They didn’t say much as they stood in the queue to the counter, just sort of smiled at each other, and Aleksi wanted so much to pull Olli in for another hug or at least hold his hand a little.

“So, umm, who was that, by the way? The guy you came with,” Olli broke the silence between them. Aleksi was in a hurry to answer when he noticed Olli’s smile had begun to falter.

“Ah, that was just my friend Niko. He insisted on escorting me, like some sort of…chaperone. He once had a Grindr hook-up steal his sunglasses, so he doesn’t trust anyone he meets online anymore.”

(There was no point arguing with Niko that maybe he had just lost them himself, because why would someone run off with children’s heart-shaped sunglasses that were no use for anything, least of all for blocking the sun, as the lenses were glittery and tinted pink.)

“Oh, so he’s like Joonas,” Olli rolled his eyes. “I believe he’s sitting in that Starbucks on the other side of the street spying on us, in case you decide to brutally murder me in broad daylight.”

“I guess that just means they love us?” Aleksi shrugged amusedly. 

“I suppose so, but why they gotta be so weird about it?” Olli laughed and shook his head. His sunkissed curls swayed on his forehead, and Aleksi felt the same urge to sweep them off with his fingers (or with his lips maybe) that he had often felt when they had been laughing together at something silly via Skype. Olli probably noticed his dreamy expression, as he was soon to smile at the floor below their feet, an attractive blush spreading to his cheeks which looked even more velvety in real life.

It seemed they had winded up in the middle of the worst rush hour at the coffee shop, for it took them several minutes to reach the edge of the counter. When they finally did, Olli turned his back to Aleksi to get a tray from under it, revealing the illustration on the back of his shirt. Aleksi remembered having seen that exact t-shirt on Olli before, with the small text on the left side of his chest, so he was taken by surprise staring at the print of a mountain and a rainbow peeking from behind it.

“So, umm, do you come here often?” Aleksi asked, thinking it would be a less awkward conversation starter than “nice shirt”, which would’ve only revealed Aleksi had been checking out his backside (which was quite nice, there was no denying that), but then he realised how tacky the opening line he had gone for must have sounded; he had heard Niko hitting on unsuspecting guys and girls at the bar with that exact question every Friday night.

For that reason, Aleksi sighed in relief when Olli turned back to look at him with a small smile, neither embarrassed nor bothered by his corny (but accidental) pick-up line.

“Every now and then. Their muddler cake is heavenly,” Olli replied, then added in a lower voice: “although it is quite pricey.”

“Their what cake?”

“Muddler cake!” Olli beamed. “It’s like mud cake, but, you know…. Muddler,” Olli then pointed at the stack of Moomin mugs in front of them, his index finger directing Aleksi’s gaze to a purplish mug with a character wearing a saucepan for a hat.

“That’s a… muddler?”

“Yeah.” Olli’s grin was even wider when he picked the mug up and set it down on the tray. “And that’s his sweetheart, Fuzzy.” Olli showed Aleksi a pink mug with a character in a wedding gown decorating its side.

“Should I get that one then?” Aleksi smirked, hoping the flirt (this time intentional) would not go unnoticed by the other man.

“Actually I have something else in mind for you, hold on…”

Aleksi watched as Olli eyed the collection of mugs in different colours until his finger stopped at another one of purple colour. Aleksi couldn’t pride himself on knowing a whole lot about Moomins, but even he could identify the character on this one as Hemulen, the philatelist friend of the Moomin family.

“Hemulen? Care to tell me why?” Aleksi inquired, squinting his eyes at Olli, whose smile went from ear to ear by then.

“Well, you know, ‘cause he’s… bald. Like you.” The restrained laughter was obvious in Olli’s voice.

“You’re comparing my appearance to that of a hemulen?! I could so easily be offended, you know. I thought we had moved on from the bald jokes by now.” Aleksi sniffed dramatically, although he could no longer force back his own smile. He had gotten used to his friends ridiculing his new haircut weeks ago already.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. To be fair, you look nothing alike: at least Hemulen has some hair on his head.”

“You better be paying for those overpriced muddler cakes,” Aleksi muttered, pretending to appear insulted but failing horribly, judging by Olli’s heartfelt giggles. 

“Oh, that goes without saying. You can actually go and find us a table, I’ll order and pay.”

Aleksi left Olli at the counter and hurried to claim the window table for two that had just become vacant. He gently removed the Moominpappa plushie that was sitting on the other seat and put it on the windowsill. While Olli was making their order of muddler cake and possibly some other Moomin-themed treats, Aleksi stared out the window to watch the people passing by, although he hardly registered anything he was seeing.

He had been too nervous to confess his feelings to Olli via web camera, too afraid of rejection, too anxious when thinking about the possibility of Olli laughing it off instead of returning his feelings. Many times he had broken his own heart by imagining how Olli would’ve been outraged by Aleksi claiming to have a crush on him when they had never hung out in person, or how Aleksi would make it awkward by having assumed Olli was into guys when they had never really had that talk. It wasn’t long ago since Aleksi had come out of the closet to his family and closest friends, so he was still a little cautious about who he confided in and was yet to figure out how to bring it up in a casual conversation without being too blunt or clumsy about it, but he had tried dropping subtle hints along the way. While he wasn’t sure of Olli’s orientation yet, he couldn’t help but hope that the lingering looks and the rainbow on his shirt meant something.

Before Aleksi could allow his mind to wander too far from his current reality, Olli appeared opposite him with a soft oof as he set the tray on the table between them. On two plates there were pieces of the alleged muddler cake, and on a third there was a large cinnamon roll for them to share, Aleksi assumed. The Moomin mugs Olli had chosen for them were now filled, with Moomin characters drawn on the creamy topping. Aleksi noticed one of them had a small heart next to Moomintroll’s head, a detail the beverage Olli claimed for himself was missing.

He mentally added it to the list of Possible Signs He Likes Me Too (But Let’s Not Get Our Hopes Up). 

“Mmmmh,” Olli hummed when he sipped his coffee. The cream left a small white line above Olli’s upper lip, on the tufts of facial hair he was sporting there. The sight was too adorable for Aleksi to say anything about it.

“It’s so nice to finally hang out,” he said instead.

“It really is,” Olli agreed. “And to think we live so close to each other, what took us so long?” he chuckled into his cup, making the cream on top of it waver.

“I know, right?” Aleksi chuckled back, albeit knowing exactly why, at least on his part: he had been scared of appearing too eager or too creepy or too anything to suggest they meet face-to-face, until Olli himself had brought it up the other day.

He had to take a sip from his own mug to gain more courage for what he was about to say next.

“You know, I… I’ve been looking forward to this ever since we made the plans. I really enjoy your company.”

Olli stopped forking his chocolate cake to look into Aleksi’s eyes, his features so soft and endearing Aleksi wanted to lean over the table and snog him silly already.

“Me too,” Olli replied, and suddenly it wasn’t only the coffee warming up Aleksi’s insides. “In fact, I…” Olli laughed shortly and turned to admire the pastry on his plate again, “I’ve been so excited I’ve hardly slept lately.”

“Oh,” Aleksi said, because oh. “I mean, you too?”

“Yeah,” Olli laughed bashfully, and there was clearly something extremely interesting in his muddler cake, as his gaze was nailed to the plate. “I can only hope my poor neighbour downstairs hasn’t made a complaint about me for stomping around in the middle of the night.”

The image of Olli pacing back and forth his living room with an expression not unlike the one Aleksi had seen on his face outside the café, just because he was too thrilled about their date-that-was-not-a-date, made Aleksi fall for the man even harder, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. As far as Aleksi knew, no one had ever felt that way about seeing him before, or at least no one had ever confessed it to his face.

“Well. Now we’re here,” Aleksi smiled at the man, almost crossing his fingers under the table in a prayer for Olli to look up at him again and make him feel those sweet little butterflies in his stomach once more.

His wish was granted when Olli did exactly that, his smile cuter than ever, if that was even possible.

“Yes. Here we are.”

After the sort-of confessions and the slight awkwardness was over and done with, their still-not-a-date-but-kinda-starting-to-look-like-one advance more relaxedly as they moved on to talk about the topics they usually discussed, from music to sci-fi movies to their favourite show wrestlers, until both their mugs were empty and there was nothing but crumbs left on their plates. They had spent over an hour just chattering away, but then Olli glanced at his watch and the approach of their inevitable parting began to hollow out Aleksi’s chest.

“I’m sorry, I’ve kept you to myself for too long, you must have other things to do today,” Aleksi said, although he would’ve done anything to keep Olli to himself just a little longer.

“I don’t, actually. Nothing but a pile of laundry waiting for me at home,” Olli answered as they stood up. The black bucket hat Olli put back on his curly head had seemed a little silly to Aleksi at first, but now he wished he wouldn’t have to let it out of his sight. “What about you? Any plans for the evening?”

“No, not really. But I should be going back home soon, or else Rilla will sulk at me for the rest of the day.”

Olli’s eyes brightened at the mention of the dog. “Oh, Rilla! I wish I could meet her too one day, I always love it when you show her on Skype.”

A wild thought popped up in Aleksi’s head; a silly, unimaginable, and completely absurd thought, but he decided to give it a try anyway.

(Niko wouldn’t have to know.)

“Why don’t you come and meet her now? My place is only a short bus drive away. That is, if you think your pile of laundry can wait a little longer still.”

The Groke hat did an excellent job at shading half of Olli’s face when they stepped outside in the sun, but Aleksi could still make out the smile sneaking on Olli’s lips, slowly but surely.

“I suppose the dirty socks won’t miss me too much.”

~

Niko would be disappointed if he knew, Aleksi thought to himself almost the first thing he opened his eyes the next morning.

Almost, because his first thought had been how cute Olli’s little snores sounded next to him.

His second thought had been how soft Olli’s hair looked, dishevelled and covering his eyes, before Aleksi had reached his hand to sink his fingers in it to discover it was exactly as soft as it looked.

And his third thought had been how enticing Olli’s lips were, how heavenly they had felt against his own the night before, how he couldn’t wait until Olli woke up so he could get a taste of them again.

Then, maybe as his fourth thought of the day, he could spare one for his poor friend, who only wanted the best for him. However, considering Olli was yet to show his homicidal tendencies by stabbing him with a kitchen knife, ransacking his entire house and kidnapping Rilla, Aleksi allowed himself to bask in the knowledge that Niko had been wrong, for once in his life.

They had entered the house with Rilla barking at Olli and Olli awwing at Rilla, until they had come to a mutual agreement of liking each other a lot, or so Aleksi gathered by the way they had later that evening snuggled on Aleksi’s sofa, almost making him feel like the third wheel. Aleksi had cooked them pasta for dinner and they had walked Rilla at sunset, admiring the colour of the horizon and finally holding hands when they had turned back home at the end of Aleksi’s street. Glasses of red wine had been poured and long, yearning looks had been exchanged as they had sat around Aleksi’s kitchen table until the wee hours, talking and laughing and simply enjoying each other’s company, after months of wanting to do nothing but that, but somehow both of them being too afraid to make the first move, as Aleksi had figured by then. 

Olli had already been on his way to the front door, out of Aleksi’s desperate reach, but something had stopped him, had made him stay, made him linger in Aleksi’s touch when they had hugged one last time. 

Aleksi’s breath had caught up in his throat and all his thoughts had fallen out of his useless head when Olli had glanced at his lips once, twice, perhaps a third time if Aleksi had given him the chance before bringing his own to Olli’s; he could no longer stand just imagining what kissing Olli would be like.

Now he knew; soft and delicate at first, almost hesitant, until Olli would wrap his arms firmly around Aleksi’s body and devour him, push himself even closer to Aleksi, despite the fact they were already pressed tightly together, skin on skin, mouth to mouth, heart to heart.

The bed had creaked when they had fallen on it, but soon after the room had been filled with entirely different kinds of sounds. If Aleksi wasn’t still flying high on the euphoria he had felt then, he might have been embarrassed about how needy he must have sounded. Instead, he was comforted by finally being sure Olli shared his sentiments, needed him close just as much as he needed Olli. Aleksi almost laughed out loud when he thought back to all that pining and wondering he had gone through over the past months, blind to the fact it had all been mutual; that Olli had felt exactly the same all along. 

Now, with the dawn already greeting them behind the curtains of Aleksi’s bedroom, Aleksi smiled as his unexpected (but oh so desired) overnight guest shifted beside him, nuzzling his cheek against the pillow. 

“Are you awake yet?” Aleksi asked him.

“Mmmmmmmhhhh,” Olli groaned in a way that sure awoke certain places of Aleksi’s body. “Maybe.” Olli’s speech was muffled by the pillow.

“Well, I suppose you’ll let me know when you’re awake enough to continue where we left off last night. I’m kinda missing those lips of yours, you know.”

Said lips then curved into a lazy grin (and almost burst Aleksi’s heart with bliss when doing so).

“C’mere then,” the lips mumbled, and Aleksi didn’t need to be told twice.

His plan of spending the morning in bed uninterrupted was threatened, however, when he heard a quiet ping from his bedside table.

Accompanied by loud objections from Olli below him, Aleksi reached for his phone to find a notification from a new WhatsApp message from Niko.

How did the Tinder date go? Please answer or I’ll assume you’re lying dead in a dumpster.

Aleksi giggled while writing his reply, with Olli peppering his chest with small kisses.

It was… Moominous 😏

Then Aleksi put his phone on silent, leaving Niko to wonder what ever he meant by that, and turned his attention back to something a little more urgent.

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[Meanwhile at the Starbucks across the street:]

The moment he stepped in the coffee shop and saw the man sitting by the window, Niko recognized him immediately; the bright blonde curls, the expressive blue eyes, and the plump red lips that were now pursed around a straw instead of Niko’s dick. The man was even wearing the same DIY style jean jacket he had thrown on the floor of Niko’s bedroom when they had made haste to undress each other on that steamy summer evening some weeks ago. The name scribbled on the plastic cup he was holding also matched the one imprinted on Niko’s memory.

On his forehead, half buried in the fluff of messy curls, Niko spotted a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses.

“You!” Niko gnarled at Joonas, who slowly moved his gaze from the window to Niko’s direction.

“Huh?”

“Thief!” Niko spat once he was standing next to Joonas’ table. It appeared seeing the man again after that night triggered something in him that resulted in only being able to form single-word sentences.

“Excuse me?” The way Joonas squinted his eyes told Niko his face didn’t ring a bell to him.

“Those are mine!” He pointed at the sunglasses resting on Joonas’ locks.

“Ummm, no they’re not? Also, who are you again?”

Niko clenched his fists; the audacity of this man, first for taking possession of his property, and secondly for not even remembering “the best cock he had ever had”.

“Those are my sunglasses that you stole from me after you… you know, after we…” Niko was hesitant to continue, nodding politely at the couple with two young kids in the next table following the scene with disapproval written on their faces.

“...After you ran away from wherever they were keeping you and you mistook me for someone else?” Joonas offered unhelpfully, a mix of confusion and amusement gleaming in his big, annoyingly alluring eyes.

Pure spite had Niko leaning in to whisper in Joonas’ ear.

“Don’t you dare pretend you don’t remember me when I milked you so good you probably couldn’t remember your own mother’s name for days afterwards.”

Niko closed his eyes and bit his lip when he felt Joonas’ hot breath in his ear, memories of their night together coming rushing back and going straight to his groin.

“Bold of you to assume that doesn’t happen to me every Saturday night.”

“You are unbelievable,” Niko growled back before standing up. “I’m afraid that makes little difference though. I’m here to collect back what’s mine, whether you plead guilty or not.” He straightened his hand towards Joonas as a request to be handed back his stolen possessions.

“Wait, are you actually being serious? You really think I’ve taken your sunglasses?”

“I know you’ve taken them!”

“I’ve never met you in my life, you madman!” Joonas insisted with creases on his forehead as he stood up and headed to the door. Niko followed him outside, not wanting to let those sunglasses out of his sight again.

“I don’t know what you were on that night to have been blessed with such a severe amnesia, but we have met before!”

“May I inquire where or when you think that happened?” Joonas’  lopsided grin was just as charming as the first time Niko had seen it. It made him furious.

“A couple of weeks ago. At that new LGBTQ club. After… after you DMed me on Grindr.”

“The Queer Room?” Joonas appeared to be racking his brain for a moment, then he shrugged. “Sorry, honey. I can’t say you’re the first guy with whom I’ve been palling around there.”

Joonas’s face looked genuinely apologetic, which made Niko wonder if he really was as clueless as he seemed, or whether he himself had imagined the whole encounter in his daydreams.

Still, it didn’t solve the mystery of his missing sunglasses, the sunglasses he was sure were the exact same ones the blond guy was now lowering on his nose.

“I guess you’re just gonna have to refresh my memory,” Joonas flashed that awful, sly, stunning smile of his again. 

“You wish.”

“Suit yourself,” Joonas shrugged again. “See you later, strange sunglass gu–”

Niko was livid at himself, for letting himself be bullied to take such desperate measures, but the deeper he stuck his tongue down Joonas’ luscious mouth, the more of it he wanted, had wanted since Joonas had sloppily kissed him goodbye before stumbling out of his bedroom.

They were both a little breathless when they broke the kiss. It took a while for Niko to realise Joonas was still holding Niko’s lower lip in between his teeth, until the man sucked on them one more time before letting Niko go. Niko’s own fists were still gripping the collar of Joonas’ jean jacket tightly.

“Wow. I can’t believe you actually gave in.”

…Wait.

“What?!”

“And I can’t believe you fell for that? Man, the Theatre Academy has no idea what they missed when they rejected me,” Joonas chuckled, wiping his mouth.

“You–” Niko let go of the man to inhale and exhale a few times before continuing, “you do remember me.”

Joonas tilted his head. “Oh, babes, I saw you bounce across the street before you walked in.” Then he lifted his hand to touch Niko’s chin. “I was instantly reminded of the night we shared.”

“Yet you have no memory of committing a theft?” Niko crossed his arms on his chest and lifted his chin to meet Joonas’ stare.

“That I genuinely don’t, because it never happened. Maybe this is just your subconscious telling you you miss me…”

“Oh, fuck off,” Niko snapped, trying to ignore Joonas’ hand sneaking on his hip. “The only thing I’m missing from that night are my fucking sunglasses!”

His outburst made Joonas sigh and roll his eyes. “Clearly you are not ready to consider the possibility we might own identical ones and that yours are just somewhere in your car or apartment.”

“Clearly you’re not ready to admit you mistook those as yours and just took them without asking!”

“Look,” Joonas moved his hand on Niko’s shoulder, “we could do this the whole day. Let’s just go to your apartment and–”

“So that you can steal more of my property?!”

“–AND I will help you find your stupid sunglasses! Since they’re so goddamn important to you.”

The thing was, they weren’t even particularly dear to Niko; in fact, they were more or less a kids’ toy, something he had bought as a joke when tipsy from margaritas, and pretty much useless if you needed something to shade your eyes from the sun. It was more about principle and dignity than anything else. (Tommi had not stopped giving him shit ever since Niko had told him about the incident.)

“And also to prove my innocence,” Joonas added, his lips pouting.

“Something tells me you haven’t been innocent since you came out of your mother’s–”

“You leave my mom out of this!” Joonas yelled at him from behind him when Niko began walking towards the bus stop. He made sure to wipe his smile off by the time Joonas caught him up.

~

“Where have you seen them last?” Joonas asked. They had been rummaging through Niko’s two-room for nearly ten minutes, and still the only pair of heart-shaped sunglasses they had seen were the ones sitting on Joonas’ head.

“On that chair in the hallway. Where you took them from.”

“Oh, just drop it already,” Joonas frowned. “You do realise I have things to do and places to be, yet I’m here helping you put your mind at ease about this puzzle, out of the pure kindness of my heart?”

The remark made Niko’s mouth snap shut. If (if!) Joonas was being truthful and knew nothing about Niko’s glasses, it truly was rather considerate of him to be there with Niko, turning his apartment upside down in search of the cursed piece of accessory, even if he also had his own reputation at stake.

“Well, they’re not under the sofa cushions either,” Joonas sighed and threw them back on the couch before slumping on them himself. “Is there a place we still haven’t looked?”

“I doubt they’re in the oven or in the bathroom sink cabin.”

“Oh, I’d check those too if I were you, just to be sure. You don’t wanna know where my friend Olli once found his phone after an unusually wet night out.”

Joonas’ anecdotes, as intriguing as they were, were of little help in their current task, so Niko decided he’s better off not knowing indeed.

“Did you check all your pockets yet? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve panicked, thinking my wallet’s been stolen when I had just forgotten it in the breast pocket of another jacket.”

“They’re not in my pockets.”

“Did you check though?”

Niko groaned at Joonas’ persistent eyebrow raise, but turned on his heels nevertheless. Once in the doorway, he started groping the jackets and shirts hanging from the coat rack.

“They’re not in my pockets, because I never put them in my–”

His hand touched something hard inside his grey hoodie, making him freeze.

Because he never did put his sunglasses in his pocket, not since his new Ray Bans had dropped on the pavement and broken into pieces. However, there they were, as if by some miracle, even though Niko could’ve sworn over his 00s nü metal CD collection that he had not put them there.

Or… maybe he had? His brain was too confused to make any sense of the situation.

“Oh, hey, you found them!” Joonas rejoiced as he joined Niko in the dim hallway. “Well, looks like you owe me an apology.”

The smile on Joonas’ lips was sweet as ever, and Niko couldn’t wait to wipe it off.

“Oh, I‘ll show you an apology,” he murmured and began pushing Joonas towards the bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s notes:

Aaaaahh it’s been a while since I last wrote an “after-credits” scene 🥰

I wanted to include Aleksi’s Moomin sheets somehow but I couldn’t think of a convenient way to do that (i.e. I didn’t want to make the fic any longer than it already was), so you’re just gonna have to do the job yourself and imagine they woke up in Aleksi’s Moomin sheets 💕

Muddler / Fuzzy / Hemulen (the new Hemulen one looks so nice 😍)

Moomin coffee art

The Moomin Café referenced here is partly a product of my imagination. The only Moomin café in Finland at the moment is at the Helsinki-Vantaa international airport. There used to be one in Helsinki but it was closed during the covid lockdown and from what I've heard/seen, they did have Moomin mugs (duh!), gigantic cinnamon rolls, and Moomin plushies that you could position on the chairs to keep you company (I never had the chance to go there 😔). I assume the Moominworld theme park in Naantali also has some kinda Moomin café (I’ve never been there either :\)

Muddler cake -> not a thing, I completely made that one up 😂 It’s ridiculous, I know, but I just couldn’t help myself with the word play!

...Sooooo, did the incident with the heart-shaped sunglasses go as told here, or did Joonas actually take Niko’s by accident, not realising this until he was at home, and then proceeded to keep them with him at all times in case he’d run into Niko again (let’s assume they hadn’t exchanged numbers and Niko had been so outraged about his stolen sunglasses that he had deleted Grindr) and then just put them in Niko’s pocket when Niko wasn’t looking, because why should he just admit he had taken them, especially with Niko storming in the Starbucks accusing him of theft, when he could play with Niko a little instead? Who knows 😏)

[causenessus]

where do i even start. two people in love, but that are hurting. two people who meet each other and are in need of love and happiness, (“do you think you weren’t loved enough?” “somewhere between ‘not enough’ and ‘not at all’. i was always hungry for love. just once, i wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it… just once. but they never gave that to me. never, not once.”). they’re in need of love; the kind of love that reassures them that they are a person. they are a living, breathing human worthy of love. that nothing of their past defines them, there is always the chance to grow. the kind of love that reassures them they are not hated by the world, but that they are loved. and they find that in each other (“i want to hold this moment. i want to believe it. i want his love to have enough salt in it to float me. i don’t want to be swimming for my life.” -frankissstein) they are two people who have been drowning in silence for so long, but then they find each other. and they keep each other afloat. with promises to keep on living and promises that they will always be there for the other. that they will never leave. that they are there to stay. and sometimes one person is all that you need. iwa and y/n have the type of relationship where they cover the other’s ears when it gets too loud, the kind of relationship where they run into the others arms every moment they get. they know each other like the back of their hands, they know what sets the other off and they always know what the other needs. and when they finally retire to bed after a long night of living, and they let down their walls and they finally say it, “i’m so tired.” the other is there to hold them, saying “i know, love. but it’s going to be okay.” and it will be, because they have each other.

ways to live: h. iwaizumi

he’s depressed. she’s depressed. it’s all they ever talk about. she’s willing to try anything to feel better. he’s less optimistic

pairings: iwaizumi x f!reader

status: completed, uploading all the chapters today & then disappearing again

tags/warnings: online friends to lovers, blended smau (every chapter has written parts), university au, mini-series, happy ending, hurt/comfort, lots and lots of frank discussions on mental health, depression tweets, casual discussions of suicidal ideation (no death or sh), disordered behaviors, recovery

taglist: i’m not doing one please do not ask to be added

prologue: the list

chapter one: exercise

chapter two: nurture yourself with good nutrition

chapter three: connect with a support system

chapter four: help yourself by helping others

chapter five: demonstrate gratitude

[whelpimnauthuman]

I think it's interesting how I don't really. Think about my walker til I use it. Like, I hear a lot of people who use their mobility aids constantly talking about how it's part of them, and ig I don't think about it, I don't feel that connection. Then I'm having to use it and it's definitely 100% part of me, and I'm not thinking about it in the way you don't think about your arm ig

[rubys-domain]

damn, i still got a healthy amount of posts in the queue. i went a little ham in my last queuing spree huh

[boltwrites]

Kitty

Fandom: Marvel; X-Men Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine / Reader (Gender Neutral) Rating: M Tags: Suggestive, Logan's cat ear hair, Teasing

Synopsis: Sleep-addled and maybe a little horny, you ask Logan if he does his hair like that on purpose.

A/N: Fun fact about this one - you could replace reader with Deadpool and the fic would probably be the exact same (but probably with more stabbing). Enjoy! Also I almost titled it Kittyuuuuuhhhh but decided against it LMAO. Is this good? No. But I needed to expel it like some kind of demon. Anyway-

You made a soft pleased noise, arching your back as you stretched as far as you could under the thin sheet of your shared bed. Muscled warmed, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, blinking blearily against the morning light that filtered in through the curtains.

You smiled - sleepy and sweet - as you propped yourself on your elbows to see the figure sat at the foot of your bed. Logan was already awake and halfway dressed, jeans hugging his hips as he leaned over to tug on his boots. Meanwhile, here you were - still in the oversized T-shirt you used as pajamas, your hair messy from sleep.

On that thought, your eyes drifted from where they had been admiring the taunt planes of his back, to Logan's own styled hair. He'd already brushed it, those little tufts that curled into what looked like tiny devil horns neatly defined in the soft morning light.

You frowned. Hmm, no, devil horns wasn't quite right. Not really.

You sat up, a hazy plan dancing through your mind as you crawled your way to the end of the bed. Logan glanced back at you - your heart flipped at the soft smile he offered you, making no effort to shy away from your touch.

"Hey, you don't have to get up because of me," he chided. You didn't listen - instead, you draped your arms around his warm shoulders, leaned in to pepper little kisses along his jaw, even if his beard caught most of them. You didn't mind how it tickled.

"But you're wearing my favorite outfit," you insisted, doing your best not to chuckle. You did like him in worn out jeans and no shirt. It looked good on him. Everything looked good on the man, though.

"I'm wearing half an outfit," he replied, turning just enough so that he could press a proper kiss to your lips. You sighed, pillowing your head on his shoulder as his lips met yours - lazy, gentle. Those weren't words you'd use to describe his kisses at any other time of day, really. This was special.

"I know," you replied, offering him a silly smile as you leaned against his shoulder, arm around his chest preventing him from dressing any further. He didn't seem to mind, though, as your free hand carefully carded your way through his hair - making sure not to displace any of his hard work.

"But something I don't know..." you continued, twirling a finger around the tip of one of the tufts. "Is why your hair ends up like this. Do you do it on purpose?"

"Do I do what on purpose?" he asked. It was laced with a chuckle, like he thought this was one of your half-awake musings. And, perhaps it was, in a way. You were, technically half-awake. But you weren't making things up. It was a real question that had crossed your mind on several separate occasions.

"You know-" you insisted, releasing that little bit of hair from your grasp. "The kitty ears."

"The what?"

He laughed it, pulled away from you if only to make sure you caught a glance of his expression - a mixture of shock and amusement that telegraphed to you that he still wasn't taking you seriously.

You rolled your eyes at him, removing your hand from around his shoulders to scratch along his scalp, up to that little tuft of curled hair. He closed his eyes, made a low rumbling noise in his throat that only seemed to further the illusion that he was really just some big cat in disguise.

"The kitty ears," you insisted, "do you or do you not purposefully style your hair so you have these little kitty ear things?"

You sat up on your knees, reaching both your hands up to curl in the tufts - tugging them just hard enough to make his eyes flutter open as he looked up at you.

"Cat ears," he deadpanned, doubt lacing his words. "You think my hair looks like cat ears."

"Kitty ears," you clarified, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "And you didn't answer my question, which means you absolutely do it on purpose."

"No-" Logan started, tone exasperated. But, unfortunately for him, he was already in too deep.

"Nope, sorry-" you laughed, sitting down behind him to wrap your arms around his bare chest, brushing through the downy hair there. "You're my little kitty now."

"Jesus Christ-" he groaned, rolling his eyes as you kissed his cheek. You made to kiss the corner of his lips next, but he turned his head ever so slightly, trying his best to quell the smile that was spreading. He'd just wanted you to pay attention as he insisted:

"I'm not a fucking cat."

"Why not?" you teased, kissing just under his ear with a little smile. "You've got the ears..."

You snaked a hand up to card through his hair again - making sure to rake your blunt nails along his scalp like you knew he loved. And, despite his dismissive tone, you caught his eyes fluttering closed, his lips parting ever so slightly.

"The claws..." you teased, punctuating each word with a new open-mouthed kiss to his neck - the last dotted with a touch of teeth that issued a sweet rumble from low in his throat.

"The fur-" your free hand slid down his chest - down the dips and curves of his defined abs, to tangle in the thicker hair that disappeared below the waistline of his jeans.

"And, I know how to make you purr," you chuckled, fingers dancing at the edge of his belt as your other hand weaved through one of those silly little kitty ears.

Logan wasn't immune to the way you touched him - when he laughed at your ridiculous comments, it was a bit breathless, even if he sounded absolutely exhausted with your antics.

"I have to get dressed," he insisted, his hand drawing over your own where you'd just started to wiggle your fingers under the tight denim. "And you're being ridiculous."

"Hmm," you hummed, nipping at the junction of his neck and shoulder. The muscles there jumped, tensed, then relaxed - and where he'd been grasping at your hand, your fingers briefly intertwined.

"If I remember correctly..." you pondered, nuzzling against his neck. "Kitties don't wear clothes."

"Oh, come on-" he groaned, laughing as he leaned back against your chest, his head pillowed on your shoulder. You grinned down at him. "How long are you gonna keep this shit up?"

"Until you're sick of it," you promised, kissing the corner of his mouth. He rolled his eyes. "Or, you take your pants off."

"We both know you'll keep saying it even if I take my pants off," he countered, his hold on your hand the only thing preventing you from inching your way into his pants.

"Touché. But -" you bargained. "I'd be distracted."

He laughed, loud and full, and your smile grew even more. That - that's what you really liked. When you could finally get some honest joy out of him. He looked so pretty when he smiled like that, even if it was brief. His hand squeezed over yours - soft, possessive, loving. That made your heart flutter even more than the thought of getting him undressed.

But he was right - you were never going to let him live this down.

[amoeganism]

UNFORTUNATELY INTERESTED michael kaiser

That weird regular with blond and blue hair stopped showing up to the cafe you work at and coping by watching every clip you find of him online isn't enough. Lucky for you, he's also a weirdo freak who missed you.

tags: birthday special!! crack, loser x loser, ness doesnt ask questions, ness third wheels, ness STAND UP, mentions of circumcisions if you dont fuck with that, reader is a freak, michael is a freak, it cancels out (no it doesnt), 2.6k words of slop, i'm lazy and am going to nap now

A man named Michael orders two drinks from your cafe each morning at seven. It’s a simple order of a mug of hot black coffee and a to-go order of black tea. He sits down at a table farthest from the entrance but still next to a large window pane, sipping on his coffee until it’s gone. Then, he’ll place the empty mug on the shelf with all the other dishes to be washed and take his tea with him, disappearing until the following morning. He isn’t the only morning regular that you encounter but the blond and blue mullet along with the tattoos of intertwining blue rose vines are intriguingly beautiful; every person has a uniqueness intangible by another but Michael’s haunting blue eyes leaves you with uncomfortable curiosity that’s seemingly impossible to be satiated. 

He stops showing up three months after his first visit. It kind of freaks you out since you had just come to terms with how you’ve been anticipating his appearance every morning for you to observe him like a scientist observing bacteria under a microscope. Part of you assumes it’s because he caught onto your weird staring and finally rationalized that there’s a creepy barista that’s a little too interested in his ritual of blowing his piping hot coffee four times before drinking or how they’ve caught onto the way he delicately trails his fingertips around the ceramic rim of the mug between every sip. Fortunately for your pride, your question as to why he disappeared was answered by a viral post on your social media feed of your more interesting customer shirtless and calling a group of teens dumb, ugly pieces of shit or something like that. You laughed at the clip before realizing that you really did look forward to seeing him again. 

It freaks you out a little bit when a different man shows up at seven in the morning ordering the exact same thing Michael did: a black coffee and black tea but this time, they’re both to-go. He gives his name as Alexis and you can’t help but think his face looks rather familiar. As he waits for his order, he scrolls on his phone and furiously types something before perking up when you call his name.

“Thank you!” he chirps, putting his phone into his pants pocket. “My teammate really likes it here. He asked me to get this for him because he can’t make it. Uh, his name is Michael?”

Your mind clicks into place at the mention of your former customer���s name. The man in front of you is Alexis Ness, the funny little guy that Michael, or rather Michael Kaiser, would exclusively pass to on the field. You’d rather die than admit that you spent a little too long stalking any and all videos of the man you could find—his awful personality was oddly entertaining. “Yeah! He used to come by every morning before falling off the grid.”

You were tempted to ask about Blue Lock, but you didn’t want to expose yourself as a freakish stalker that does background checks on their customers as a hobby. Before you can fall victim to temptation, Ness pushes the glass door open with his back and leaves with a short “have a nice day!”, leaving you with a new guy to dig up info on. 

The next morning at seven, you expected to see Ness return to order drinks for Michael, but you were greeted with two men instead of one. One of which, being Michael himself. His hair was put up with a gold claw clip rather than let down and he mindlessly nodded along to the nonsense rambling of Ness. The shirt he wore was loose around the collar, exposing a blue rose tattooed onto his neck and collarbone, a painful yet beautiful placement. Each line and stretch of color was beginning to bloom into his skin as it settled and spread, leaving slightly blurred edges as a result of aging. You had read that he was the same age as you, nineteen, and that made you wonder when he had gotten it done.

“Good morning,” you greeted with a small smile, standing in front of the register with your hands in front, ready to take their order. Directing your attention to the blond man, you attempt to start some kind of small talk, “It’s been a while since you’ve been here. It’s good to see you back. Black coffee here and black tea to-go?”

“I’m impressed that you remembered my order,” he teased, reaching into his pocket for a black wallet and pulling out a credit card. “Have I really made such a big impression on you?”

Slightly irked but also amused, you take his card to slide on the side of the register. “You came here every day for months straight. I think it’d be embarrassing for you if I didn’t remember who you are. It’s not often someone like you comes around and stays.”

“Someone like me?” Michael asks with a raised brow. 

“Y’know, tatted up and choppy, dyed hair. You kinda remind me of a peacock; I fuck with it.”

“Nice to know someone appreciates it,” with an exaggerated sigh, he combs his fingers through a loose lock of hair framing his face. “It’s a shame people tend to be so boring and unappreciative of what I bring. Peacocks you say? When I cut my hair, I can put the scraps together and make a custom peacock feather just for you.”

“Oh…I’m so glad to hear that you’re creative and confident? I think this is why you’re a soccer player and not a business owner…or pickup artist…or a customer service worker…or a respected individual.”

The mention of his athletic career catches Michael off guard for a brief moment, ignoring everything else you said like a guy stuck in delusion limbo with selective hearing, but he was quick to recover from the initial shock. “You know about me? I never knew you were such a fan. Do you want me to sign a napkin for you? I don’t offer this to just anyone.”

“I’m good, you can leave my napkins alone. And I think it’s reasonable to see what happened to my former superfan.”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, I was here for the superb drinks, not you.”

“Ouch? Be careful what you say, I’m the one making your order.”

As Michael laughed at your interaction, you suddenly remember that Ness was still there, having long been done with reading the menu. Whatever embarrassment you had was replaced by judgement with how Ness was perfectly content and joyful about being left out like a cuck. Athletes are weird, you conclude. 

“What can I get for you?” you direct towards Ness, opening up a new order.

“Um, I’ll get a cold brew to-go.”

“Sounds good! Cash or card?”

Shortly after, all three drinks were made and you called both Michael and Ness to the pickup area where Ness grabbed a straw and found a table for the two to sit at. Michael, however, stayed behind, not even bothering to touch his two drinks before talking to you. 

“What time does this place close?”

“Six in the afternoon every day except for some special holidays where we either close early or don’t open at all. I can never remember which is which so I bother the owner for every one.”

“Is it just you who takes the opening shifts?”

“Yeah, I work the first hour alone and then my coworkers come in. I get off at three so it’s not too bad ‘cause I get the afternoons and evenings to myself.”

“That’s nice,” Michael muses, slowly nodding to himself. He slides his coffee over to himself and looks at you with a sly smile. “So if I were to take you out for dinner, it wouldn’t be a problem?”

“If you’re gonna kill me? Yeah that’d kinda suck, but if you’re talking about a date…sure,” you laugh at your unfunny joke. Thankfully, Michael either also shares a bad sense of humor, or laughs at you and is mocking you. If it’s the latter, you’ll find a way to get back at him (and it doesn’t have to be ethical). “Um, do you want my number or…?”

“That’d be wonderful, thank you.”

You quickly grab a ballpoint pen and scribble your contact information on a napkin from next to the sugar and sweetener packets, handing it to Michael. His slender hand brushes yours, sending goosebumps down your arm from his cold skin. Outwardly, you don’t show your surprise at the unexpected sensation but the rush it brought made you embarrassingly giddy. 

His sharp blue eyes crease along with a teasing smirk on his smooth lips. “And here I was thinking I’d be the one signing a napkin for you. How nice of you to prove me wrong, love.”

“Already starting with the pet names? That’s bold.”

“Should I stop?”

“Do whatever you want. It’s kinda funny how eager you are to be with me.”

“I can’t deny that.”

Michael carefully folds the napkin with your phone number, placing it in his wallet and meets Ness at the table he chose, bringing his beverages along with him. It didn’t take long for the pair to finish and leave, but not without Michael sending you a sly wink your way. The gesture was kind of goofy and if it were anyone else, would give you second hand embarrassment from its corniness. From how your heart skipped a beat, you silently cursed him out for bypassing your bitterness and working his way into managing to fluster you. 

—

“Hey, a customer asked for my number this morning,” you tell your coworker, Yui, as she ties an apron around her waist. Her brown eyes lit up at the news as she whipped her head around to face you. One of the first traits you learned about her was her nosiness and although it could easily become aggravating, you had always found it entertaining, making her one of your favorite people to work with. Her schedule, unlike yours, alternated between working morning shifts and afternoon shifts, making you see her a couple days a week. Yui finishes her uniform by putting on a baseball cap with the cafe logo on it, something you learned that she would take off within an hour from how sweaty it’d make her.

“Who?! Did you give it to them?! Did they text you yet?! That’s so exciting unless they're creepy and weird and in that case, I hope they get pushed in front of a subway,” Yui fires at you, her eyebrows raised with intrigue. “Well?”

“It’s the soccer guy that I told you about. The one who used to come here every day and then dropped off the face of the Earth.”

“Oh! Michael Kaiser? Wait—he asked you out?! Holy shit. That’s insane! Did you say yes? Did he text you yet? You should text first—wait you can’t because he’s the one with your number.”

“I guess he technically asked me out? I mean, he just said ‘hey, what if I took you out for dinner’. If he doesn’t text me I’m going to kill him.”

“Fair, fair.”

You got a notification from an unknown number on your way home, asking you if you were the barista at your cafe. Relief flooded your body, overriding the tension you didn’t know you had. After shooting a text back, confirming your identity and asking if the message was from who you think it is, it takes five seconds too long for him to reply and in that time you consider buying a pair of scissors for a surprise circumcision. 

MICHAEL: How do you feel about 6 P.M. tomorrow?

YOU: fine with me

YOU: where should we meet

MICHAEL: I can pick you up

MICHAEL: Consider it a surprise

YOU: can you even drive

YOU: are you going to kidnap me

MICHAEL: NO

MICHAEL: PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

YOU: omfg you want me so bad

YOU: [address]

YOU: https://www.wikihow.com/Neuter-a-Dog (this is a warning)

An alarm indicating you have ten minutes before Michael picks you up blares from your phone but you stay put, stupidly blinking  into your vanity mirror as if it’s going to do anything to your appearance or do anything to turn your phone off. The gum you were chewing served as a stress reliever and something to make sure your breath wasn’t rancid but it quickly turned into garbage bin gunk as soon as you bit your tongue. Everything was starting to piss you off and you suppose you’d start with silencing your phone. 

Even though you’ve worn this outfit before, you twirl around like a dog chasing its own tail, trying to find any uncut tags or a seam that magically broke in the few minutes it spent putting it on. Several stabs to your ego outweighed the taste of blood in your mouth as you realized you were losing your cool over a guy named Michael so in an attempt to calm yourself down, you disregard any advice of breathing exercises and imagine Michael picking his nose while loudly grunting as he takes a shit. To your utmost horror, you don’t get the ick.

Exactly one minute before the clock hits six, you get a text from Michael saying that he’s outside your apartment. You stumble to get your keys, making sure your bag and everything you need is with you. Despite not spending any time wondering what his car would look like, the obnoxious electric blue car had you blinking several times and pinching yourself to confirm if what you’re seeing is real. One part of you feared that the literal beacon would attract a violent mob of paparazzi or creepy fans and it’ll end up in all your private information being leaked with a box of shit on your doorstep but another self-absorbed part of you thought the gesture was flattering and that deep down, you were thoroughly enjoying the attention. Match made in hell or whatever. 

“Nice car, you planning on totaling it anytime soon?” you ask, sliding into the passenger’s seat.

“Not yet, unless you’d like me to. I can put a blindfold on and press the gas as hard as I can if you ask,” he gleefully fantasizes. It’s a little cute how smug he is talking about ways he would cause a car accident for you. Maybe chivalry isn’t dead or maybe you’re both doing the world a favor by going off the market. “I’m a man of many talents, after all.”

“Wow. I’ve never been more attracted to a man in my life.”

You don’t know if Michael’s playing along to your deadpan comment or if he’s choosing to ignore it with the way he drives all the way to the restaurant with a smile on his face. The sight of him with such a proud expression on his face combined with the misplaced confidence is embarrassing but endearing. If you were to ask yourself why you decided to smile along with him, you’d tell yourself it’s because you’re making fun of him in your head, but in your heart, you know it’s for a different reason—one you’re too stubborn to admit. 

To spend months observing Michael Kaiser only for him to disappear without a trace, leaving you longing for a reunion you thought only you would anticipate is more shameful than admitting to yourself you had fallen for him first. As Michael parks his car and extends a hand out for you and opens your door, extending a tattooed hand out for you, you suppose you’ll share your affections with him the same time you share it with yourself. 

[myceliacrochet]

URGENT: 4yo Little Girl and Her Family Malnutritioned and Freezing!! (Sham and Moneer al-Anqar -- Skills Series: "Easy Piece First")

Reblog if u answer pls tysm!🩷

There's no shame in that! In this series, I'll be sharing some tips to help us keep going strong, carrying these families throughout this brutal winter of extermination. With each post I'll be highlighting a family in desperate need.

Easy Piece First

Whether we're working at a job, making commissions, working on posts, or doing other tasks, mutual aid for genocide relief can be overwhelming. The stakes are through the roof, and sometimes the people who most want to help are the people least able to. Often I freeze in place, overwhelmed with emotion, unsure of where to start. Depression, anxiety, and AuDHD don't help!

So I hope this skill is of use to you. I call it "Easy Piece First" because that's what helps me remember it, but it's definitely not a new idea.

I started this post with the easiest small step accessible. For me, that was writing down Moneer's current blog tag (@sham-moner) in a new post. This was the easiest for me because it required no decision-making and could be done in a few seconds. Then I filled in the other parts that don't take much thought -- the GoFundMe link, the vetting, and some tags.

For other posts, sometimes I'll be making art that is unrelated and then I'll think of a post to go with it.

Lazy and Heartless, or Focused and Strategic?

Everyone is different, but trying to force yourself to start with the hardest part first (what some people call the "Eat That Frog" approach) can actually make things take longer for some people. Using "Easy Piece First," I was able to get more done with my time, and with less trouble. This makes my efforts more sustainable long-term.

On a related note, I actually take a lot of measures to not walk around with my chest constantly hurting for Palestinians anymore (though there's nothing wrong with doing so). My chest was aching at all times for months until I converted some of my worry into action and some of it into self-care -- so I could actually get more done for Palestinians, who do not need my tears but my labor.

This winter is a marathon, and we gotta see it through to the end.

Take care of yourself so you can get more done and keep helping people long-term.

Do not give yourself a heart condition.

Give Palestinians labor.

That's how I'm keeping myself out of the hospital and maximizing what I can do for people, but we all have our own strategies.

But that's enough about us -- let's talk about these two amazing kids.

Moneer and Sham

Palestinians are just regular people. That's the horrible reality. It's the exact same as if people from your own background, even your own family were getting tortured and killed.

Like, Moneer is a 19yo who had recently started university when the genocide began. Sham is 4, Mohammed is 16, Rana is 21, and Rasha is 22.

What were you going through when you were 4? How would you have felt if you saw people getting blown up at that age? What if your house was blown up and all your toys and friends were lost, and you had to live outside in the winter, scrounging for moldy bread and polluted water?

What if you lived with the smell of rotting bodies when you were 4? Did you know what that smelled like as a little kid? I still don't know what that smells like. I didn't really know what death was at that age. She does.

This small child is in critical need of food and water!!

She is starving!!

Sham will die this winter without more donations!!

This is a call to action for an extremely urgent campaign!!!

It's been 2 days, and it was 2 days before that! This is far too long!!

Moneer is still recovering from major surgery. He is in a lot of pain and is also malnutritioned and in need of clean water and warmth.

Moneer is very close to his family and dearly loves his mom, Amani (39). Amani is in a lot of danger because she has asthma in a dusty massacre zone without treatment. It's killing Moneer to watch his mom go through this.

Drink some water, take a rest, and keep putting one foot in front of the other, using whatever tools work for you.

We are not letting these kids and their family die this winter!! We can do this!!

Vetting: GazaVetters #8

@opencommunion @beserkerjewel @deepspaceboytoy @rhubarbspring @eryuditely @lesbianmaxevans @malcriada @turian @sxpph0 @rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world @neptunerings @dykesbat @halalgirlmeg @userpeggycarter @minosbull @hamstertross @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness-blog @definitelynotafox @kaleschmidt @jaylung101 @captainsaltymuyfancy2 @timetravellingkitty @sun-and-moon-side @kahin @greenmossyrock @northgazaupdates2 @irhabiya @theparanoid @steep1253o @victoriawhimsey @dirhwangdaseul @cruzwalters @ladycelebrianofimladris @tamamita @50seagullsinatrenchcoat @deathlonging @nconiku @briarhips @kaislittlecorner @mahoushojoe @sar-soor @rhubarbspring @pcktknife @sawasawako @feluka @anneemay-blog @ralfocups

P.S.: I have several people waiting on me for posts. I am so sorry -- I will get them finished and published as soon as possible.

@soft-sunbird Thank you dear friend🥰🩷 I love you. You're doing so great

Check out the comments for many ways to help!

[holybibly]

IT'S YOU |Woosan x reader| Part II

Part I If you haven't read it

Genre: smut, from friends to lovers!au, college!au

Word Count: 9.4k

Summary: Sometimes drunken decisions lead to the most unexpected results and the most shocking confessions. Or, after your boyfriend cheats on you, you propose a threesome to your best friends and it might just be what they have always wanted.

WARNING: only!18+ unprotected sex, Dom!San, Dom!Wooyoung, Sub!Reader, fingering, choking, degrading, pet names, spit kink, manhandling, threesomes, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, overstimulation and more.

Tag list: @staytiny816 @woosmaid @jiminssluttyminx @liknws @pearltinyy @haebaragisworld @bts-iris @bleachpolaroid @wisejudgedragonhairdo @ginger-coffee-addict @pricessthings @rockstarsanie @lilmackiee @minaizum1 @shotahime @vixensss @meljoongiee @ivsjake4evr @love-me-a-little @seonghwaddict @onmykneesforateez @meeitany

A/N: Okay, we're here. I couldn't be more excited. Really, they've got a lot going on and I hope you're all ready because it's gonna be intense, hot and messy. Seriously, I really appreciate everyone's feedback and consideration for this series. It's become one of the most popular things I've written, but it put some pressure on me, because I'm worrying about whether the second part would please you. Well, I think we'll see.

Enjoy the chapter, even though it's practically nothing but smut.

The third and final part! takes us back to where it all began, but not without an emotional roller coaster ride. By the way, I wanted to point out that T/N doesn't remember what she promised them a year ago. So don't be surprised by the plot changes in this issue. In the finale, we're sure to get a hot threesome.

I'm still learning how to write smut, so please be gentle with me.

Besides, I can't help but talk about the results of the poll. The majority vote was for Alpha/Beta/Omega!au, and honestly, it's one of the ideas I'm most excited about, and I was hoping it would be the winner. I look forward to your comments. In general, feel free to write me about anything.

dividers by @cafekitsune

Much love, everyone.

Now. The morning after graduation.

It's a late, lazy morning when you wake from a deep and well-earned sleep. You blinked slowly, trying to adjust to the bright golden light flooding the room, which refracted through your bedroom's stained glass. It was beautiful and annoying at the same time, just as Hongjoong himself, who had inspired you to do this.

You should have shaded the windows last night before you went to sleep, but that was the last thing you thought of as lying in bed between the restless, wet San's and Wooyoung's bodies. You were more preoccupied with the touch of their rough hands on your heated body, the warmth of their breath on tender skin, and the sounds of their hoarse moaning right by your ear.

They were an absolute mess, slowly driving you crazy. Emotions raged in your stomach, making you feel guilty, embarrassed and… lustful. You practically dozed off at dawn, when the boys managed to calm down a bit and fall into a deep sleep.

The apartment is incredibly quiet; you can't hear a single sound, and only the soft sniffle on your neck, with the feeling of warm breath dancing across your bare skin, breaks this peaceful silence.

Wooyoung is still fast asleep, clutching you in his arms like a favorite teddy bear, his leg wrapped possessively around your thigh as it always has been. Even when he was asleep, he couldn't bring himself to let you go for a second.

You ran the palm of your hand over the sheet and felt nothing but the cold under your fingers. Sannie has been awake for a while now, and for a moment you're annoyed by this fact. You wish that he was still in bed with you, soft and gentle as he always was. So that the three of you could spend this special morning together. The graduation robes are scattered all over the room in a mess of things, and all you want to do is push them further and further into the wardrobe and forget about them forever. The dog days are finally over. You are now official free.

Sensual, full lips touch the sensitive spot on your neck, and the sensation sends shivers down your spine. The throat is suddenly dry, sweat begins to form on your neck from the abruptly increase in desire, and you close your eyes tightly, aware of every touch and breath coming from Wooyoung more clearly than before. It's as if your whole body is completely focused on him, reacting to every fleeting movement and every sound with even more eager devotion.

You're still too receptive from last night, and you need more space to try and keep all those dirty, depraved thoughts from taking over and you. You studiously ignore the slight shiver of excitement that is happily tickling your breasts and causing the muscles in your lower abdomen to ripple in a pleasant way. You bite your lip to keep yourself from groaning in frustration as the images and sensations of the night flash in front of your eyes. You need to stop right now. It's too bad, but it's too sweet.

You start to wriggle, trying to get away from Wooyoung, who is still sleeping, but he just pulls you closer to his chest, as if he wants to dissolve into your body completely, and you melt.

Wooyoung has always been so insatiable and greedy for any kind of physical contact that you can offer him, like an adorable little puppy, that you can just wag your finger at him and he'll come running to you. He always had "too much space between you"; it was important to him to hold you constantly, to touch soft skin with his fingertips, to leave butterfly kisses in every possible place, to knead your thighs and squeeze waist possessively, to pull you so close that there wasn't a centimetre between you. You were his darling, soft and sweet girl in all the right places, and he just couldn't help himself.

San used to tell him that he was being a bit greedy and that he needed to learn how to share you with others. After all, sharing meant caring, and you were also his chagi.

Yes, you wanted to be taken care of, and that frightened you to the depths of your most forbidden fantasies. You wanted to be nervous about them; you wanted them to use you as they pleased, to make you take everything they had to offer, even if it destroyed you completely.

Your desire for them was more than you should have as friends. And that feeling had only grown stronger over the past year.

But despite Wooyoung's obsession and possessiveness, his touch always soothed you. He gave you the comfort you needed whenever you felt the need. And in the end, his hands would always nudge you in the direction of San, so that he could have his own moment of sharing with you. You were their own personal cuddly toy, and that was fine with you, because there was no place in the world where you could feel more protected and cuddly than in their arms.

But at the moment, you wanted nothing more than to get away from his touch and calm down your excitement. You'd been so needy since last night, and Wooyoung had only added to your frustration.

He's shirtless, his skin warm and smooth, and you can be sure it's golden like caramel where the sun has licked it. Delicious. You can almost taste him on the tip of your tongue, and suddenly you're tempted to sink your teeth into him for a taste, but you just bite down harder on your lower lip and stifle a moan.

You need to stop being so intensely... aware of him.

Maybe you were still drunk from the last night; after all, you couldn't remember exactly how many shots of tequila you'd consumed before dragging Yunho into the ladies' room to start kissing passionately. And you found yourself in an even more suggestive position with Seonghwa after another round of colourful, unnamed cocktails.

From then on, every innocent act made you feel lustful and hungry for intimacy.

Was it karma or something? You weren't sure, but you were more inclined to think that it was the lack of passionate sex you hadn't been having for a year now. You hadn't been able to find anyone suitable for a long-term relationship after you'd broken up with Suho, and boys-toys hadn't given you any pleasure.

You wanted more than ten minutes of gasping under the covers with awkward fingers poking into the pussy. They were cum faster than you were able to get yourself aroused. Pathetic.

You needed to satisfy that hunger that was eating you from the inside out, that oppressive feeling of emptiness inside you that could only be filled by a big dick that you could choke on for the rest of your life. A thick and long one, with visibly bulging veins, that could really hit all the sensitive places inside you, causing you to have orgasm after orgasm. And having not one but two perfectly matched options handy hasn't made things any easier.

If you offered to suck them off, Wooyoung's dick would be in your mouth in no time. He was always a fireball, passionate, and impatient, and San…San liked to play with his food before getting down to business. You were in awe of how perfect their dynamic was with such different personalities.

You wanted to see how attractive they would be when a warm throat closed around their cocks, when their beautiful faces were contorted with intense pleasure, and when you heard them moan out your name.

Damn it.

It's moments like these that make you realize that moving in with Wooyoung and San was the best and worst decision you ever made. Unless you count buying a pair of designer jeans that make your butt a magnet for people's hands.

The time went by far too quickly for your liking. It was easy to get lost in the succession of school days, week after week, punctuated by movie nights, spontaneous outings and a seemingly endless stream of student parties. Everything in your life changes. From the big renovation of your apartment, which was Hongjoong's job - he was still over the loss of his favourite vintage sofa - to the move in of San and Wooyoung. Things started to move at an even faster pace the day the boys dragged their suitcases into the dark space of your ultra-modern living room, to a general "You should have done this a long time ago".

It was a spontaneous and hasty decision. But what could have gone wrong? It's always been the three of you, and you had no idea that sharing space would have any effect on your relationship. God, how wrong you were. They played cat and mouse with you, testing your mettle and your patience. The memory of that moment is still so vivid in your mind.

"Come on, chagi, try it; it's quite tasty." San brought a spoonful of the dark green liquid, which Wooyoung proudly called the best hangover soup in the world, to your lips.

Jung Wooyoung and his ego, of course.

"Go ahead, baby; be good and open your mouth. It'll make you feel good, I  promise." That last sentence was full of innuendo, and it didn't take a genius to see it. In fact, everything that came out of Wooyoung's mouth was absolute filth.

He was practically purring in your ear, touching your delicate skin with every word, and you swear you could feel the touch of his tongue on your earlobe. Oh, fuck. His hands slid down your shoulders, deftly kneading the muscles that had gone stiff, his thumbs sliding up the vertebrae of your neck, and he dug a little bit into the hair at the back of your neck. In that moment, you were ready to do anything for him, whatever he asked.

"That's my Chagia, so docile and sweet." San would continue to feed you slowly with a spoon, smiling sweetly at you as if it were the most pleasant thing in the world to do. From time to time, he would wipe away the drops of liquid that ran down your lips with his thumb, as if in a romantic drama. You were perfectly capable of doing it yourself. But San's meaningful raised eyebrow made it clear that it was better to let him take care of you without resistance. San's language of love had always been to serve, and he took every opportunity to remind you of that.

The silence around you was nice and cozy—you'd even say relaxing—especially since you could still feel the humming bass of last night's music in your head. And all in all, you weren't feeling your best. Hell, that shit you drank last night was strong. This went on for a few more minutes until the plate in front of you was empty and Woo's face was pressed against your cheek in a cute puppy way. 

"Woo, and I wanted to talk to you about something, Y/N," San began, his voice suddenly becoming so sweet. He took your hand gently, his thumb stroking your knuckles lazily. He obviously wanted something from you.

"Sure, I'm all ears."

"We'd like to move in with you, peach, what do you think?" Wooyoung was pecking at your cheek, acting like a real sweetheart, but you knew every one of his tactics to get what he wanted.

"You're not going to get it if Woo keeps licking my cheek."

"But, Peach…" He whined, pursing his puffy lips in a resentful manner. Okay, he was cute as hell, but you were never going to tell him that.

"Chagi." You turned your attention back to San, who looked like he was confessing his love to you: Are this hearts in his eyes? Or are you still drunk?

"Agreed, we are practically living here anyway; I even have my own toothbrush in the bathroom. It's just a formality." He was awfully proud of it, squaring his shoulders and imagining himself under your gaze.

"We want to take care of you, baby."

And this is where you should have told them to fuck off and forget the way to your apartment, change the locks, and give San his toothbrush back. But whether it was the soft and somehow loving look of San's cat eyes paired with deep, sweet dimples or Wooyoung's gentle hands that started to knead your shoulders again in a languidly seductive way, you nodded affirmatively.

They were right; you were all practically living together. The amount of their stuff in your flat was unreal—the T-shirts you slept in, the perfume bottles left everywhere, study notes, games, pajamas and scarves, Wooyoung's luxurious leather jackets, and San's books—you could start a collection, but their stuff was just as much yours. It was also the constant cause of your and Suho's fights; he was always jealous of you and them, completely unaware of the dynamic between the three of you. They'd been glued to your thigh for years, and the fact that you had a boyfriend wouldn't change that. Narrow-minded prick.

"I think you're right. Let's give it a go."

"My little darling." San gave a dazzling smile, showing off his dimples even more, and pressed your hand to his lips. God, Choi San was a real menace. It was hard to believe that this pretty cat in front of you was none other than the one who was caught many times having rough sex in the middle of the university library. Once, he was even caught in a threesome, but you didn't want to point the finger at Wooyoung for putting him up to it.

"Yeah, that's our girl." Wooyoung pressed his lips to your cheek once more, salivating as much as he could along the way.

"Jung Wooyoung!" You squealed, wiping the drool from your cheek in disgust, but Woo was already happily scurrying into the living room, laughing loudly.

"We'll look after you, chagi."

That was San's last sentence before he ran his tongue over your hand, licked his fingers like a cat, and ran after Woo with an evil giggle.

"Choi San, come back at once!"

You are going to have so much fun here. Too much fun for your own good.

"Mmm… Peach, you are already awake." The soft touch of plump lips on your shoulder means that Wooyoung has woken up and wants to have your full attention.

"It has been some time. But I don't want to go anywhere. How are you feeling? Last night, when we came home, you and San were really drunk.

Wooyoung hugs you even tighter, nestling his face between your shoulder blades and taking a deep breath of your scent. Your skin is tickled by the tips of his long hair. A light touch on your lower back sends a jolt up your spine, making you arch slightly in his arms. Wooyoung is always like this; his defiant and needy attitude shouldn't be anything unusual for you, so you should stop reacting to him like this.

"Thank you for looking after us, peach. You're always so nice. Sannie and I don't deserve you." He kisses your neck. This time the touch lingers a little longer, and a feeling of excitement rises in your chest. "We haven't caused you any trouble, have we, little girl?" He purrs as he rubs his nose up against your shoulder. You couldn't help but notice how San's habits have become Wooyoung's habits, and vice versa. Now you have to put up with all that twin feline energy.

You turn to face him, and even after a night of sleeping with his hair tousled and without his usual cheeky grin, Wooyoung still looks pretty damn good. He's comfortable, a little sleepy, but no less seductive than he ever was. Woo has always had this sensual aura about him. Underneath the overt sexuality and the bitchy attitude, there was something else—something dark and seductive. You want to kiss him right now, so badly. Your hand runs through his silky hair, letting it fall in soft waves on either side of his face. Dark strands that are long enough to be pulled through easily. The world's handsomest boy.

It's all too easy to fall in love with him.

He kisses your palm playfully and pokes his nose into it like a cat hungry for affection, and you don't mind his purring with pleasure.

You wonder what he's going to sound like when he cums, God, you need to help yourself.

"Let me think." You run your fingers through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp. It's a deceptively gentle gesture before you pull hard on the roots of his hair, causing him to cry out in surprise.

"Oh, babe, why?" He purses his lips in offense, hoping you'll fall for his cute look. But you've known Wooyoung for years, and judging by the mischievous gleam in his eyes, he knew exactly what he was getting at.

"Firstly, you robbed me of my chance for great sex with your whining and dragging me home. Secondly, you behaved horribly when I tried to persuade you to take a shower and you kept me awake until the morning by clinging to me and fidgeting on the bed. Today I demand the royal treatment because you really messed up last night. This was not part of my plan for the prom at all."

Woo smiles back wickedly, practically baring his teeth in a wolfish grin.

"Peaches, are you really such a needy girl? Well, what are we going to do about it? San and I will have to do our best to make it up to you." He suddenly turns you over so that you are lying on your back, sandwiched between the mattress and his lithe body. Wooyoung is hovering over you, his hair falling all over your face, and you can't help but notice how sexy he looks in this position, which is annoying the hell out of you. He doesn't even have to try very hard to send you over the edge.

Strong hands are resting on the sides of your head, letting you enjoy the sight of the seductively bulging veins that run down his forearms. Fuck, you've always had a weakness for his hands, and who wouldn't when they look like this? Woo leans his head towards you until your noses touch, like a predator cornering his prey.

"Baby, I have my doubts that you'll be satisfied with anyone, so don't sulk. And you know Sannie and I will have to approve of someone running their fingers down your knickers." He smiles broadly at you, clearly enjoying your annoyance when you roll your eyes at him.

"Jung Wooyoung, stop it!" Your hand leaves an angry red mark on the bare skin of his chest, and he grunts. It will take all the patience in the world not to beat him to death or kiss him. "I swear I'll wash your mouth out with soap someday." Or maybe you'll lick him from the inside out. "And stop sticking your pretty little nose where you shouldn't. You don't have to worry about who I'm gonna fuck."

"So what if it bothers me? What are you going to do with it, Peach?" He bites his lips in anticipation and raises an eyebrow in expectation, as if he were challenging you to go on.

The way that smug look is on his face makes you feel a little pissed off. You get a little cocky and decide to use the same tactic he did. Wrapping your hands around his face, you're pulling him even closer, resting him on your forearms and your lips nearly touch. He has siren eyes that are deep and mesmerising, and the intensity of his gaze causes your cheeks to flush and you to bite down on your lower lip. The gleam in his fox eyes is proof that he is enjoying every second of your little game.

"Seonghwa kisses you like he's fucking your mouth with his tongue, it's fucking heaven and you can do whatever you want with that fact, baby. I would have ridden him like a stallion in front of everyone last night if it wasn't for you and San's drunken arses". You push him off of you, and Wooyoung rolls over to the other side of the bed as you sit up.

There's something in the air, and you feel you've said something wrong, judging by the way Wooyoung's eyes are flashing with an emotion you can't quite describe. It's a weird mix between anger, envy, desire and something else. But whatever it is, it is making your pussy clench in anticipation of it.

Damn, when did you start thinking with what's between your legs instead of your brain?

He stares at you intently, as if he's trying to decide whether he's going to scold you or fuck you senseless. As lust flashes through his languid onyx eyes like a shooting star, fast but unmistakable, and his pink tongue flicks out to wet his swollen lips, Wooyoung knows exactly what he's going to do to you.

You reach out to stroke his shoulder, and just as you expected, his skin is the most delicious shade of caramel. You can't help but want to run your tongue all over it.

Oh, shit. Now would be a good time to remind yourself: He's your best friend.

"Where`s San?" He asks you.

The expression on his face is, for the most part, neutral, with just a slight hint of lust and anticipation. He slowly licks his delicious lips and looks at you with bedroom eyes. You feel the warm moisture building up between your thighs. If he keeps looking at you like that, you're going to make a puddle of lust where you're sitting right now. You squeeze your thighs tighter to keep the liquid from dripping shamefully onto the bed, praying to all the gods that Wooyoung won't notice.

"I don't know. He wasn't in the bed when I woke up."

"Good."

What the hell is 'GOOD'? You need to collect your thoughts and leave this stuffy room, but the way Wooyoung's eyes slide over your body before, and slowly sucking his lower lip tells you there's nowhere to run. 

"Come to me, sweetheart; I want you in my arms." He is stroking himself on his thigh, the silk fabric of his pajamas leaving no room for imagination as it outlines the taut muscles of his gorgeous thighs. His legs are spread a little wider to draw your attention to where he wants you now, and you can clearly see the imprint of his thick dick through the fabric. Damn. It's completely hard, and you can't help but notice how big it is.

His actions send signals straight to the nerves that control your cunt. The wet heat is running between your legs and your arousal is increasing. A palpable shiver runs through all body as you squirm and writhe under the intensity of his gaze.

The rational part of you is literally beating in a hysterical frenzy. It's your hope that your stupid brain will realise the full implications of what's happening, and that you'll be able to put a stop to it. Even if the boundaries of your friendship were highly questionable, you were friends. While the evil voice in the back of your head was cheering you on: "C'mon, what's the bad that can happen?"

He was inviting you, and who were you to refuse? Not that you wanted to.

They'd go crazy if San and Wooyoung knew what thoughts and fantasies lived in your head every day. Huh. They had no idea their sweet chagia had such a dark and dirty mind. You take a deep breath.

Screw it.

You slowly crawl across the bed towards him. He watches you with a squinting, predatory look on his face until one of your legs has been thrown across his body and you're almost sitting on top of him. Almost, as your thighs struggle to keep you in that rigid position, but apparently Woo wasn't in the mood, and his broad palms force your hips down so you're sitting all the way in his lap. Before you realise what you're doing, you're pinned against his crotch, his hard cock touching your aching clit as you move against him, demanding physical stimulation. The contact was so good that it sent a shiver down your spine, and you almost moaned at the tiny moment of pleasure it gave you. Damn, it was massive—so thick you started salivating in your mouth. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You're up to your neck in shit. 

"There you are, starlight, in my hands." His voice, once so high and soft, was now hoarse and deep. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you even closer to him, so that there was hardly any space between the two of you. "Baby girl, are you still upset about Seonghwa?" It's a nickname he rarely uses, and it sends an electric shock through your lower abdomen, triggering a feeling you're not sure you can control right now. He leans in close to you and presses his wet lips against the side of your ear. "Tell me what I can do to stop you being angry with me."

"Kiss me, make me feel good." The evil little voice in the back of your head chimes in with glee. "Blow my brains out until my head feels empty and light." It says.

A whole new sensation takes over. Your body starts to heat up in anticipation of what is to come. Then the room will seem to shrink and the air will fill with a tension and a desire.

"I don't know. You've really pissed me off." You look up at him through your impossibly thick lashes, your lips in a fake pout. You weren't the innocent one; you could have played just as badly as they did. "You'll have to try harder, pretty boy." You let your finger nails run down the length of his neck. Wooyoung tilts his head back to reveal a chin line that could have been carved from the finest marble.

As his hands lazily caress your thighs, lifting your T-shirt higher and higher, your skin burns under his palms. Damn, he's scalding you.

The wetness between your legs is becoming more and more intense as the conversation goes on and on. Your juices seep through the thin lace of your panties, dripping from your pussy, leaving little dark streaks on the silk of his trousers where they touch your thighs. The air between you crackles with tension and desire; you feel yourself sweating; you're so hot and needy; and Wooyoung is no help at all.

His aura is one of dominance, and you swallow in anticipation. A storm is about to break and you don't want to be safe.

"I'll do whatever you want me to do for you, Y/N."

You're done for.

"Then kiss me, stupid boy, make me feel good."

He growls back at you, embracing you on the back of the head and practically forcing your faces together. The palm of his hand clenches possessively on the back of your neck with palpable pain, and the sound that comes out of you is something between a sob and a moan. With the sudden movement, you feel yourself pressing even harder against his dick, and it sends a pleasurable pulse through your clit.

Wooyoung presses his forehead against yours and your lips are just a breath away from each other.

You stare back at him without blinking. His eyes are half closed as he watches you in silence, like a tiger stalking its prey, ready to pounce with its jaws clenched. It is in a low, dangerously calm tone that he speaks. "Are you sure this is what you want to do, baby girl? I'm biting." It's mixed with your sighing and seductive lips, and you can barely make out the words.

"P-please…"

His moan is loud, guttural, and mildly painful, and then…

O MY GOD.

Those soft lips are pressed hard against yours in an urgent, hungry kiss. His mouth is insistent and demanding, his thumb digging into the skin of your neck, turning the touch into a rough grip, and his tongue gliding along the bottom of your lip. Slowly, as he pulls your lips apart, he moves in quickly, and you shudder at the sensual sensation as he runs his tongue over the roof of your mouth and licks your teeth. It should have been dirty and rough, but instead you find yourself moaning with wanton need.

"Wooyoung..." The moan of his name was so desperate, so needy, so full of lust and desire.

"Goddamn, I love it when you say my name."

He kisses you with renewed ferocity, biting your lips almost to the point of bleeding. Wooyoung is too passionate; he licks your mouth with his tongue, and literally shoves it down your throat. He kisses you like he's dying of thirst and you're the only way to make him drink. Spittle runs down your chin, it's wet and dirty, but you can't stop, you don't want to stop. Wooyoung's tongue is practically fucking you in the mouth.

And God, you want more. It feels unreal, too extreme to be a reasonable response to a kiss, the heat between your legs, your clit throbbing with need, your nerves on fire.

Wooyoung lets go of you for a moment and you stare at him with your eyes wide open. Your heart is pounding wildly and your breathing is so ragged that you're practically choking to death. Licking away any remnants of the kiss you shared, his wet pink tongue pokes out from between his plump lips.

His hand slides down your face, cupping your chin and tilting your head slightly so that your eyes meet his, his gaze clouded with lust as if his fingers were digging deep inside you. You can't say a word as a wicked smile spreads across his sharp, enchanting face.

Now you have a better understanding of all those damsels who are ready to spread their legs at the flick of his fingers.

"Tell me you want more, baby. I have a feeling this apology isn't enough. I need to do more than that. I'm so desperate for forgiveness.

"Don't I need to be forgiven too, Woo? You shouldn't be so greedy. That voice, oh shit.

You turn sharply around and find yourself staring into San's beautiful cat eyes. He's so damn good-looking you swallow a groan. It must be illegal for someone to look this good in normal jeans and a plain black shirt. But San had a body worth dying over.

A real girl's dinner.

What the hell are you going to do now? How long had he stayed there?

"San-ah… how…" You find yourself stuttering. Your mouth dries up and you can't utter a word, but even if you could, your brain can't form coherent thoughts. You can't bring yourself to look away from him, and something deep inside you knows that he will punish you if you try.

"What is it, Gongjunim? Did the cat eat your tongue?" He raises an eyebrow at you, a shit-eating grin playing at the corners of his lips. As if in mockery, his soft, patronising tone of voice slides over your skin. San combines a sensual, gentle nature with a seductive one that makes you feel he's looking for a weakness before pouncing. His fucking duality. One moment he's a little sweetheart, the next he's a lecherous demon who wants to sink his teeth into your throat and devour you. "Come on, Chagia, I promise I won't disappoint you; I'm very good at excuses."

Responding to his sultry purr, your pussy clenches shamefacedly.

The excitement of it all makes your brain feel like mush and sets your skin on fire.

You start squirming in Wooyoung's arms, and now that San's here, you belatedly realise what you've gotten yourself into. Is it time for a change of scenery or something? No, you want to stay. Desperately.

You need them to blow your brains out, to make you dumb and submissive and a pretty little toy for them to play with. Sometimes you have to stop before you cross the line, but where is the line when you're literally sitting on your best friend's hard cock?

Hell, you don't know what you're supposed to do - run or beg - but you clearly know what they want to do to you, judging by Wooyoung's dick twitching between your thighs and San slowly licking his lips as he looks at your bare ass peeking out from under your shirt. His shirt.

There must be some kind of telepathic connection between Wooyoung and San. After a few seconds of intense eye contact, San pulls his T-shirt over his head, tosses it aside and slowly walks over to you. The grin on his face seems to have changed; it has become even darker than before. Hungrier.

And you don't think this is a good time to start drooling. But damn it, you want to lick him from head to toe.

Between the three of you, there's a chaos of emotion and desire. It's mixed with adrenaline and a distant fear of what's going to happen. There has to be an end to this game of predator and prey, and why not do it now? Sighing, you finally give in.

In the morning, you'll consider the consequences.

"Maybe you should kiss me too, San-ah, and I'll start thinking about forgiving.

Hot lips instantly press an open, wet kiss to your shoulder. The bed buckles under the weight of another man's body. San's strong arms are wrapped around your waist and his fingers clench your t-shirt into a fist. He's hot, warm and hard, and you can feel the hardness of his dick through your trousers as he presses down hard against you. His mouth is sucking, biting and licking your skin as if his life depended on it. Sharing an understanding look with Wooyoung, San slides his lips higher up your body.

"Sannie…" Before planting a hot kiss on your neck, you whimper as his teeth sink into your sensitive flesh.

The moan that comes from the back of your throat is so deep that for a moment you wonder if it's coming from you at all.

Pure pleasure shoots through you as you feel Woo's long tongue on the other side of your neck. He lets out the sexiest moan deep in his throat, as if he's having the time of his life, savouring every second of the way his lips explore the nape of your neck. You're distracted. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as he pulls the skin between his lips, leaving a purple hickey on the back of your neck.

"Oh, my God, boys."

"That's my darling, Chagia." His voice is sultry and seductive, and you can clearly hear the saturi again, as it tends to do at times when San is in a highly aroused state.

"You're so beautiful, my peach." Wooyoung whispers to you, and you just melt away completely.

You whimper as Woo begins to run his hands up and down your thighs and arse, squeezing and pulling. He mooed softly as you made little circular movements with your hips and rubbed his cock against you. Woo punishes you by slapping your bottom if you cuddle too hard. You'll need to be obedient as they play with you.

The sound fills the room along with the collective moaning of Wooyoung's and San's.

"What a dirty little girl you are. I think you need to be taught how to obey." Woo spanks you a few more times and you wiggle your hips in an impatient way.

It feels so good.

San pulls your t-shirt up to your breasts while all your attention is focused on Wooyoung. Your little thong is completely transparent and does nothing to hide your sex or the excitement building within you. They are practically digging into your needy pussy because of the position you are now in. A chorus of gasps and moans can be heard from your best friends as their eyes focus on that big, wet spot. San's greedy hands press you even closer to his body, so that you can feel his full erection on top of your plump, bare bum.

"You're so fucking wet." Wooyoung hisses. "Like a bitch leaking just thinking about our cocks in your tight little cunt. We'll destroy you, Peach."

Before you realise what's happening, Woo's hands slide down your back, your nipples tensing in the cool open air. The soft fabric of your t-shirt falls to the floor, and suddenly, hot wetness envelops your left nipple and he sucks hard on it, the pressure causing pain that turns to pleasure as his tongue touches the hard bud. Your head immediately falls back onto San's shoulder as you open the soft space of your throat to his insatiable mouth. You let out a long groan, and your hand rests on Wooyoung's head, tugging lightly at the soft lengths of his hair.

You feel like you could explode at any moment, even though they haven't done anything to you yet. You're burning, almost feverish, as the growing fire between your thighs reaches unbearable levels. You can't breathe; your skin is hypersensitive. Your head tilts to the side, and you whimper San's name in the most pathetic intonation possible. His hand slides lower and lower, past your waist and your stomach, to the place where you most want to feel him. It hasn't even come close to touching your pussy yet, but the thought of it is enough to make you squirm with excitement.

His hands move down low enough to touch the skin of your naked legs and up slowly, frantically, until he reaches where you are starting to get aroused. The palm of his hand encircles your pussy in a possessive way, the small mound of flesh lying so perfectly in the palm of his hand. You tremble a little at this, and try to spread your legs wider so that his fingers can rub against the moist slit, so that he can dive in between the warm folds until your pussy spreads out beautifully for him, so that he can rub your clit with ease.

"Mmm… what a wet little thing. I bet my Gongjunim has the most beautiful pussy I have ever seen in my life. Fleshy, shiny, and pink - just the way I like it. He gasps for breath. He puts his hands on your hips and rubs his hard cock against the curve of your ass a couple of times. "Do you feel that, Chagia? No one can make me as hard as you can." On your skin, his breath feels like fire. Hoping for a little more friction, you arch your backside. The gesture reveals a hiss from his side.

San's fingers, one tempting back and forth with a feathery touch, spread the excitement building in your slit beneath the thin material. Your pussy clenches around nothing at all in the most uncomfortable way, and you know that he can feel it.

"Do you like this chagi? Wooyoung's mouth on your full, pretty tits? My fingers on your sweet little snatch?" San's tone is almost mocking. His tongue is licking his lips; his fingers continue to stroke your clothed pussy in a leisurely manner; and he watches intently as Wooyoung literally chokes on your breasts. "We are gonna fuck you until you squeal like the slutty little bitch you are." He growls into your ear, and the sound of it makes you pull on Woo's hair with all your might.

And you always had the impression that Wooyoung's mouth was dirty.

A soft moan slips out of the brunette's swollen lips, which are now wrapped so tightly around your nipple that you're sure they're going to leave a mark on it. As he pulls back with an audible pop, you let out a small sound as you look at his ecstatic face. His eyes are half closed, his eyelids flutter slightly and a beautiful flush of colour has appeared on his cheeks. His plump lips are glistening with the saliva and the service he is giving to your tits.

"Are you feeling good, peach?" He chuckles weakly as he watches you fall apart in San's skilled hands, leaving you as beautiful as ever in his eyes. Woo gives your nipple a hard pinch, only to then let his tongue run over it. The sudden change in sensation causes your head to begin to spin, and you let out a loud moan of pleasure.

"Please… I need… more… Youngiee." You stammer out the words, your voice shaking and your body trembling.

"You look so pretty when you beg. But do you want to know something, сhagi? You'll look even more beautiful with your cunt stretched around my dick. I will ravage your tiny pussy, Gongjunim. I'm going to make you mine." San finally kisses you; though it's hard to call it a kiss, he dives into your lips like a hungry man, sucking them so deeply and passionately, with an insistence that you don't even think you'll ever understand.

His tongue is merciless as he explores every millimeter of the inside of your mouth. This kiss is heavenly, and with every second that passes, you find yourself wanting more, wanting him to spoil you in every way that he can. To have his way with you until you have no more patience. And it is these thoughts that make you wriggle in Wooyoung's arms. You try to rub your thighs together, hoping to relieve the unbearable heat inside you.

"The taste is so damn good."

You can feel Woo squeezing your breasts almost in sync, his warm tongue sliding over the plump flesh once more, licking at the aroused nipples, and his teeth scratching the sensitive skin with the lightest of touches. You savour the lightning bolts of pleasure that the two of them cause to bounce around your body. It's almost painful, but you know you're loving this.

Half gasping, half squealing at the sheer, blunt pressure of San's nimble, kneading fingers finding their way to your labia through the mesh of the thong. Your lower abdomen clenches in a reflexive spasm, and your hands are sticky with sweat as you grasp the wrist of his hand.

"Oh, your pussy is so sensitive, isn't it, Chagia?" San cooed with feigned tenderness, and with a strange sadism, he pressed his middle finger against your cunt, sliding it right over the spot where your clit was, causing your hips to shake. The lubrication of your arousal made it much more effective for him to stimulate you, and he would literally bring you to orgasm with minimal effort. He purred softly as you responded, like a big cat purring, and just when you thought he couldn't fuck with your sanity even more, he turned his head and spat on your lips, a glob of saliva dribbling into your open mouth and you choked out a moan.

It's so rough and dirty, but your body responds the best it can, arching into his arms and pressing your breasts even harder against Wooyoung's face.

The brunette moans in response and lifts his foxy eyes to you. You can see the corner of his lips curl into a smirk before he bites down hard on your nipple. Fuck, your life will never be the same. And they haven't even got around to fucking you properly yet. It's like heaven and hell at the same time.

"I want to hear you whimper, Gongjunim." San's hand grips the back of your neck very tightly, causing you to gasp for breath from the sudden lack of air. Your eyes begin to roll up at the possessive touch of his hand on your throat, and you begin to jerk your hips, your clit pressing against Wooyoung's cock, and he lets out a long, hard moan.

"Please, Sannie." You're breathing out.

"Look at her, San, our girl, slobbering like a brainless slut." Wooyoung wipes the viscous saliva from your parted lips, then pushes his fingers into your mouth with a sharp, deep thrust. For a second you choke and begin to gurgle around the long phalanges.

He hadn't removed the rings yesterday and now the heavy metal makes your tongue feel cold. "Think of the way my dick is fucking your little throat, starlight. Suck it hard." You wheeze and gurgle, your saliva bubbling at the corners of your lips, but you have done exactly as you have been told.

It was rough, it was horrible and it was so wet that it was almost disgusting to watch. But Woo enjoyed it; he literally raped your mouth with his fingers in a sort of sadistic sense. A few thick strands of saliva would stick to your swollen lips as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth.

"Look at you. Taking my fingers in your mouth like that. Such a good girl."

This whole game has been nothing more than a distraction from the main action. There's a short circuit in your body as a sharp sensation pierces every nerve in your body. San suddenly slaps you hard on your wet pussy, the contact sending sparks of pain and pleasure flying across your skin, and you let out a squeal.

"Oh my God. Oh, my God. I'm going to… I'm going to…" You go over the edge as you feel your juices pouring down your legs, your vaginal muscles contracting, forcing more fluid to pour out of you, the combination of their names coming weakly from your lips as your orgasm washes over your weakened limbs.

"Fuck, Peach is so hot… You're squirting." You belatedly realise that Wooyoung is also cumming as he throws his head back in pleasure, his eyes rolling up and his mouth opening in a long, whimpering moan.

You can hardly catch your breath when you feel San rest his chin on your shoulder, his grip tightening around you, whispering in your ear.

"One more gongjunim; give me one more orgasm and then I'll caress you."

"Ah, San." The searing sensation of his fingers roughly pinching your clit through the wet material of your thong causes you to cry out hoarsely in agony. The sound of your wet, sensitive cunt splashing was clear and vivid; the sensation was brutal, but so indescribable you were ready to faint from pleasure.

He's going to tear you apart.

"Cum for me, Chagia. I know you can do it. Sperm for us; make Youngie and me proud of you".

Your eyes rolled back in your head and you swore that your cunt was on fire, your whole body shuddering in electrifying spasms of pleasure that made your toes curl up and your thighs shake. San's hand was still firmly around your throat, holding your head upright as you had your orgasm.

It had shattered you so badly that the fall seemed dramatic, and you went completely limp as the orgasm dissipated, turning you into an inconsolable, whimpering, disorderly mass.

They had blown your brains out.

"There you are, Gongjunim, I got you. You did so well." San muttered, but your mind was too tired to admit it. Amused at how angry and lost you looked, you saw stars as Wooyoung's hand tilted your head to the side in a teasing way to look at your confused face.

"You're no longer angry with us, are you, Peach?"

San removes his hand from your throat and allows Wooyoung to pull your face up to his own. Gentle fingers caress your cheekbones and soft lips wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks. At one point, you didn't even realise you were crying. It's such a contrast to his previous behaviour; here he is your usual adored Jung Wooyoung, a little clingy, a little annoying and with an unrealistic maternal instinct. Your best friend.

Fuck. Now it is time for you to start crying for the real time. You begin to sob, pushing Wooyoung away from you in a desperate attempt to get out of his arms. You can feel the wetness underneath you and it makes you feel worse and worse. You need to get out of here now. Your behaviour frightens them to death and San's hands are on your body again, squeezing your shoulders gently.

"Stop, stop for a second, Y/N. It's all right, Chagia. We have you."

You freeze at the sound of your name, like a deer caught in the headlights.

In anticipation of his next move, your whole body tenses like a string. Wooyoung's fingers intertwine with yours. It's a familiar gesture, so familiar to you, so ordinary, so perfected over the years of your friendship. San lets you go when he realises you're not going anywhere, and his face comes to rest next to Wooyoung's as you look at him.

He's handsome, too, to the point of madness, and trembles at the knees. His cheeks are flushed. There's still a lingering gleam of lust and excitement in his eyes, but with a touch of strange emotion. His plush lips are soft and swollen from all the kissing, and his body glistens with sweat. And the reason he looks like that is because of you. You look at Wooyoung and see that he looks exactly the same, but the emotion in his eyes is more obvious than ever.

You want to crawl off his lap and cower in shame in the corner of the room so you don't have to look at all that tenderness and loveliness in his foxy eyes. You can handle his cheeky, flirtatious backside with ease, but this kind of Wooyoung is new territory for you.

"We… shit. This shouldn't have happened. This is the first rational thought to come out of your mouth all day. And you should have said it a lot sooner, before your two best friends made you cum twice with a squirting orgasm.

"Chagia, I think there's something we need to talk about, but first let's get you back to your normal self."

You don't argue; just nod and realize that San is absolutely right. You look like a complete mess, covered in saliva and lubricant. You can feel Wooyoung's cum seeping through the fabric of his pajama bottoms and drying on the inside of your thigh.

You look fucked.

"Yes, I think we have a lot to talk about."

It sounds terribly stupid, but what else can you say? Can we forget it? Or can we fuck again?

All your years of sexual longing for them have turned into a resounding slap in your face.

"Go take a bath, Peach, and we'll talk. San and I will take care of the rest."

For some reason, this sentence gave you a vague feeling of déjà vu. But you pushed the thought out of your head as quickly as it had come.

"Okay."

You finally slide off Wooyoung's lap, ignoring their stares at your almost naked body, there's no point in covering up or acting like a shy maiden, San's fingertips were rubbing your pussy just five minutes ago, bringing you to some kind of crazy orgasm, and the entire lower half of Woo's body is drenched in your secretions. If you've ever wanted to imagine how your friendship would turn out, this is it.

You trudge to the bathroom on your tired legs, pulling off your disgustingly wet thong on the way and throwing it on the floor. You turn on the light, turn on the tap and the whole room is immediately filled with the warm steam of hot water. Outside the door you can hear the muffled voices of the boys, who seem to be having some sort of heated argument, judging by San's irritated moaning and Wooyoung's loud whining.

You don't want to go into details; you still have time to destroy yourself. Your eyes catch sight of your reflection in the mirror. Tomorrow has come much earlier for you, if the fucked-up look on your face is any indication. Dishevelled hair, hickey marks, bruises and swollen lips from biting. What a beautiful morning after graduation!

"Wooyoung, you should have waited for me." San's voice is much louder now.

"As if I'm the only one who fucked her. Don't try to tell me it's all my fault."

You still don't want to join the conversation.

A pink, glistening puddle of something that smells like candy spreads across the bathtub. Thanks to Mingi, you have a whole collection of these colourful bombs. He's always had a soft spot for all things cute and charming, and he's taken every opportunity to spoil you to death with them.

With a tired sigh, you take another look at yourself in the mirror. So, Peach, are you ready for the consequences?

Turning away from your reflection, you lock the door with a click.

[lizzieisright]

My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand

power bottom!reader x subtop!Abby

Summary: Abby comes home agitated and asks for a different way to blow off her steam.

Tags: fingering (r and abby!receiving), oral(r!receiving), strap usage(r!receiving), tribbing, face sitting, Abby has to sit and watch as a punishment, light primal play(????), cumming untouched, Abby wears a collar, reader is a little bit of a pain slut, slight degradation (no name calling), begging.

wc: 6.3k

a/n: I was this 🤏 close to writing puppy play with werewolf alpha!abby, I swear

MINORS DON'T INTERACT I'll hunt you for sport 

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Abby comes home from her usual “gym rats hangout” with twitchy fingers. You've learnt to notice those things because they signal the same thing to you: Abby is in the mood. 

“Hey Abby.” You greet her from your place on the bed where you've been reading the book Abby recommended a week ago. “How did it go?”

“Pretty normal.” She answers and you note her higher than usual tone: she is not telling you the whole story. “I'm gonna go shower.”

You hum and go back to your book, giving Abby the space she needs when she lies to you about her feelings. She will come and talk eventually, so you're not anxious - Abby has a very complicated relationship with being emotionally vulnerable and you follow her pace in these moments, letting her come to you. 

Abby takes a shower and comes back in her usual joggers and a muscle tee - you ogle her as a dutiful girlfriend should and she smirks at you. 

“Nice to know I don't spend my time in the gym for nothing.” Abby chuckles and you nod, eyes following her movements until she finally collapses on top of you, putting her head on your tits. 

Abby doesn't speak but starts to draw circles on your waist and you sigh from contentment: it's nice. Abby's hands always feel nice, and you tune yourself to her mood and relax, giving her the reins: restless Abby likes being in control, likes being busy and likes to take her mood out on you. 

“Hey um- Can we try something?” This is not dom Abby's voice. Dom Abby is quiet and cold, concentrated, scary even. This Abby is soft and warm, which confuses you for a second as you come back out of your lazy bliss. 

“What's up?”

“I got so pissed at these assholes today and I really want to not think about it.” She admits and you hum again, listening to her. “But I don't want to be in charge.”

You take a second to give Abby's words more precise form in your head. She is not in her usual subby mood, her hands are still gripping you tight, so she is not talking about subbing right now, but she doesn't want to have control...

“So you want me to dom you? But you want to top the whole time?” You finally say.

“Yes.” Abby looks at you with hopeful eyes. “Can we do this?”

You take a moment to think about it. You don't let Abby touch you when you dom her because she is usually in a subspace to escape her daily responsibilities and you decided long ago to spoil her, give her space to do nothing but be pretty. So right now your brain is trying to figure out how to get Abby into subspace by making her work. Ideas pop up in your head fast, and you smile at her. 

“Come here.” 

Abby climbs up and you weave your fingers through her unbraided hair, massaging her scalp before guiding her into the kiss. 

It feels different, having Abby press you into the bed and still maintaining your control over her, but there's really no dominant bone in her body right now. Yes, her sculpted arms are caging your face on the sides, but her mouth is so fucking soft you can help but smile into the kiss. 

“You want to fuck me, princess?” You whisper into her lips and Abby nods a few times. “Use your words.”

“Please let me fuck you.” Weak, weak little baby, you think as you caress her pink cheeks while she looks at you with big eyes. “Let me, please-”

“Bring me your collar.”

Abby's eyes glaze over for a second and she rushes to get the collar and give it to you so you can put it around her neck. You fasten it quite loosely, since you got into a habit of tugging on her collar and you don't want to hurt her.

“That's my good girl.” You tell her and Abby tries to kiss you, but you stop her roughly. “Who told you you can do that?”

“I'm sorry, ma'am.” She says, but you hear her impatience, her eagerness. “Can I kiss you, ma'am? Can I?” Abby's hands are twitching by your sides as she restrains herself from touching you.

“Oh baby.” You chuckle, amused. “Not yet.” 

“Fuck.” Abby whispers to herself, desperate. “Sorry- I'll be good, I'll wait.”

This is interesting. You are so used to Abby giving you all the control, asking you to do something instead of asking if she could do something that it throws you off balance a little. But you take your time and take a breath, then tug on her collar and kiss her. 

Well, you tease her: you make Abby chase your mouth, stopping her from crossing the distance when she almost touches your lips, and you can see a small frown forming. Oh, Abby is not happy with your game. 

“Ma'am-” Abby growls and you smirk. 

“Watch your tone or go sit and watch me touch myself.” The steel in your voice quickly puts an end to Abby's antics. 

“Please, ma'am, let me touch you. I've missed you today.” 

Abby's hands hover over your thighs and you take pity on her: you guide her hands to your hips and let her squeeze them. 

Feeling Abby's hands on your body reminds you of a second reason why you don't let her touch you when you dom her: she just feels so good. Her strong fingers digging into your flesh make your thoughts go out of your head and you take another breath to collect yourself. 

“You wanna kiss me, princess?” 

“Yes, ma'am.” Abby rushes closer, a little bold, like an over excited hound who has zero discipline. She likes it, you realise. Abby likes the game, likes pushing on your buttons. She moves her face dangerously close, testing the limits, her breathing fanning your lips. You put a hand on her shoulder to stop her, and she listens, but watches you almost maniacally, tracking your every movement. 

“Oh princess, you’re really impatient.” You say, amused. “If you want to kiss me, you’ll have to earn it.” 

Abby nods.

“Of course, ma’am. I’ll do whatever you want.” Abby whispers feverishly as she kneads your thighs. “I’ll be good.”

Seeing Abby so desperate but so determined makes you wet in your pants: it’s a new, more delicious kind of power trip. Abby wants to be active and do everything, but your one light touch stops her. One light touch against 5 '10 built like a brick woman who can do whatever she wants with you if she decides to - it makes you dizzy, to have so much power when Abby is not giving up hers. 

“Use this pretty mouth and make me cum, princess.” You order and Abby’s eyes go dark. She’d manhandle you usually, but right now she is looking at you, waiting for permission, even though her grip on your thighs is strong. You decide to drive her crazy even more and once again you move your face until you almost touch her lips with yours. “My good girl knows what I like, doesn’t she?” 

“Yes ma’am.”

You lick the corner of her mouth and Abby tenses, restraining herself from kissing you. You move your lips to her ear, slightly touching it, and Abby’s hold gets tighter.

“Mark me.” You kiss her under her ear. “Bruise me.” You kiss her under her chin. “Hold me down.” You murmur in a low voice right into her ear and Abby growls, really growls.

“Please, ma’am.” Abby pleads and tentatively tugs on your waistband. “I’ll make you feel so good.” 

You lift your hips up and Abby takes them off in a hurry, throwing them somewhere, not caring. You’re tempted to make her go and fold everything to tease her more, but you can’t ignore your own needs: your clit is pulsing, your skin is on fire, and you need Abby’s mouth on you. 

“Can I take your shirt off too, ma’am?” 

“Go ahead.” 

Abby’s fingers are even shaking a little as she takes your shirt off, leaving you fully naked. Her eyes are devouring you, the obsession and lust overpowering her. She doesn’t waste any time and tugs on your thighs to get you comfortable before she buries her face in your cunt, but you tug on her hair in return, moving her head away.

“What did I tell you to do?” You ask her sternly. “Don’t think just because you get to touch me you can do what you want.”

Abby kisses your thigh apologetically, grazing it with her teeth, and you pet her head. 

“That’s better.”

This is all Abby needs to latch onto your thigh and suck a bruise into your skin while you hiss and grip her hair tighter.

“Good.” You sigh, your voice breaking just a little when Abby moves to the other thigh and bites you, holds you between her teeth like a prey, sinking her canines to cause the pain she knows you like. “Yeah, good girl.”

Abby snakes her arms around your thighs and pins you to the bed - you know you won’t be able to move until she lets you, and it makes you roll your eyes from arousal. 

Abby watches you as she licks her way between your folds, opening you up - your taste weaves the moan out of her and she puts her whole mouth on you, licking and rubbing your clit as you leak on her tongue and sigh so heavy, so pretty above her. 

You look back at Abby and she looks absolutely fucking feral, her eyes trained on you like you're her prey, and you can only smirk at her tauntingly. 

“Big bad wolf, aren't you?” You mock her and grip her hair to push her further into your pussy. “I might get a leash then.” 

The grunt Abby lets out into your cunt and the hold getting tighter signals she likes the idea, and you chuckle before breaking into a moan as Abby doubles the effort and really eats you out. Her devilish tongue destroys you piece by piece, contrasting with the pain of her grip on you as she squeezes your thighs, spilling your flesh between her fingers. 

“You're doing, uh- so good, baby, fuck-” You whimper for her and Abby's brows go up in a pleading manner, as if she silently begs you to cum for her. “Add your fingers.” You order her and Abby listens right away, pushing two fingers inside you. “Fuuuuck..” 

“Can I make you cum, ma'am?” Abby asks in a low voice and you push her head back into your cunt.

“Yes-yes-yes-yes, fucking- give it to me, princess.”

There is a millisecond pause before Abby gets overpowered by her own desires, and then Abby's fingers start to curl inside you violently, almost lifting you up with the sheer force of each curl. Your moans get higher and higher until you're almost screaming on her fingers and her tongue as your orgasm builds up in geometrical progression, taking you out fully. 

You cum, gripping into Abby's hair painfully, clamping down on Abby's fingers as she continues fucking you through your orgasm, lazily rubbing your clit on her flat tongue. You feel like you just exploded, fell apart and can't find your own pieces again after what Abby just did to you. Abby sucks another hickey into your thigh and you melt into the bed, feeling high. 

“Can I get my kiss now, ma'am?” Abby asks, almost smirking at you.

“Spoiled little girl.” You murmur, but motion her to come closer. “Barely did her job and already asking for rewards.”

Abby whines quietly, her previous smug face turning into pleading one again. 

“Ma'am-” She can't argue with you, you have all the power, but Abby is desperate. “I made you cum, I was good.” She begs and you chuckle, caressing her cheek, cleaning your cum from her chin. 

“You fucked my brains out, princess.” You kiss her and Abby moans, turns into mush on top of you, opens her mouth for you, because hearing you say this almost makes her cum in her pants. 

You make out for a while, your wet hot mouth on her soft, warm one, feeling each other with your tongues. You calm down from your high, but Abby just gets more restless. She needs her energy released, she needs to burn through it, and you know exactly how she can do it. 

“Do you want to fuck me with your strap, babygirl?” You tease her, but Abby can only nod. 

“Yes, ma'am.” She gets bold again and kisses your cheek. And then she grinds against you and you can't help your surprised chuckle when you feel the hardness in her pants.

“Oh, you naughty girl. You took it to the shower, didn't you?” You can't help your smile when Abby blushes, caught, hiding in your neck.

“Ma'am, I wanna fuck you so bad.” She admits into your ear and your clit throbs. “Wanna see you cum again.” 

“You're so spoiled.” You scold her and tug her hair to make her look at you. “Straighten up.”

Abby sits up and you take her strap out of her pants, lining it up with your hole, and Abby, naive Abby, thinks she can just thrust into you, but you stop her with your other hand on her hip. Again, it's such a light touch, but it stops her immediately.

“No, you're just going to watch, greedy little girl. You're not pushing inside until I let you.” 

Abby nods and can only helplessly watch you play with yourself using her cock. You run it up and down between your folds, smearing your slick, and Abby watches it glisten in the lowlights of your bedroom. God she wants to fuck you, she wants to make you scream and leak onto the bed, she wants to hear you whimper how good she is, how good she is making you feel, but instead she watches you nudge your clit with her dick. 

You watch Abby's tortured face with a smirk, the soft silicone rubbing you just right. 

“I can cum just like this, grinding against your cock, princess.” You tell her and Abby looks at you, genuinely terrified. 

“Please, ma'am, I'll do so much better for you, I'll make you feel so much better.” She begs and you smile when her hips twitch. 

The relief Abby feels when you nudge your hole with the head of her strap is downright religious. She looks at you, waiting for permission, her fingers lightly squeezing your thighs. 

“Prove yourself, then.” 

You both moan when Abby smoothly slides inside after you coated her dick with your slick. She watches you, how you arch, how your naked body reacts to her, how your tits spill to the sides and your nipples tighten. She sees the shiver cover your skin from how good she feels inside you, and Abby can't stop herself but to go as deep as she can in your pussy. 

“You're beautiful, ma'am.” Abby sighs, her voice trickled in lust, as she thrusts into you slowly, her hips hitting the underside of your ass. 

You moan and tug on her shirt so Abby would get closer, and then you push your fingers under her collar, wrapping them around it, and hold Abby down while she ruts into you, desperately grunting into your ear. 

“So good f’me, princess.” You sigh and then moan when she thrusts into you so hard it makes you move up on the bed, knocking the air out of you. “Fu-ah-ck, shit, you're barely holding on, aren't you?” You tease her with your broken voice and Abby growls into your neck. “Look how you're fucking me, baby. Fucking look.” You growl in return.

Abby listens and tries to move away to see properly, but you only let her go as far as looking between your bodies since you still hold her by the collar. 

“God, ma'am- you're so wet, fuck-” Abby sobs and fucks you hard and slow, hungrily watching her strap move in and out of you.

“You did it.” You say between your whimpers. “Like a good girl.”

Abby scrapes her teeth on your neck, desperate, but you tug her back so she continues watching fucking you while you moan and dig your nails into her shoulder. 

“Ma’am, fuck, please-” Abby pants and looks up. “Can I go faster? Please, I'll be good for you, I'll fuck you so good, please.” 

You pull her closer and kiss messily, feeling as feral as Abby looks right now, bite her bottom lip painfully and feel her hips snap into you in response.

“Go ahead, princess. Make me cum on your cock.” You pant into her mouth and Abby's eyes go dark. 

“Thank you, ma'am.” She tells you in her scary fucking voice and you feel like the power shifts between you for this one second. She places both of her hands by your sides for stability, and you know this is it. You're going to be destroyed. 

The first hard thrust makes you squeak and then there is no break: Abby's pace is unrelenting, her hips are strong and she uses it to her advantage, slamming into your pussy, going so deep on each thrust it becomes hard to breathe for you. You moan and whimper into her ear, scratching her shoulder when Abby hits the spot just right, but you keep holding her by the collar to make her remember who is in charge here. 

“Fuck, unnnhhh, you're so good-” You tell her and Abby looks into your eyes like she can find a proof there, like the noises she fucks out of you is not enough. 

“Thank you, ma'am.” She pants and buries her head into your neck, licking your skin with her whole tongue, lapping at your collarbones. 

You feel animalistic, like both of you are stripped down to your instincts with all growls and grunts that leave both of your throats. Abby sucks on your skin and grabs your hip painfully, pinning you down so she can move even faster, harder, making your cunt squelch with how wet she gets you. You don't cling to her - you grip like a predator grips their prey in their claws, and the desire to hurt, the same desire Abby has in her, makes you dig your nails into her throat. Abby whimpers and gently bites your shoulder, licking her bite right away to soothe you, and she feels how your walls grip her strap, not letting her pull out easily, almost with a pop - you're close, you're so close Abby can't help but moan. 

“Ma'am, would you cum for me? Please, please cum for me-” Abby says into your neck as her hips keep drilling into you: by this point she doesn't care how tight you are, she is going to keep fucking you until you cum. 

“Fuck!” You sob, every movement of Abby's cock making you open up for her. “Fuck, baby- shit, keep going, yeah?” You feel like you are about to cry: it feels so intense, your legs start to shake in anticipation. “Holy shit-” You sob and Abby looks up at you, watching your now wet face with blown out eyes and an open mouth: you look like a god to her. “Baby-”

You squeeze your eyes shut from how much you feel as your orgasm bursts out, dragging you to the pits of hell with white hot pleasure and you can't help the scream ripping from your chest. 

Abby moans involuntarily: seeing you like this while she is in subspace, while she is serving you, is goddamn holy. She feels how her own clit pulsates and the desperation takes over her.

“Ma'am, can I cum?” Abby asks you shyly while she is fucking you through your orgasm, but you barely register her voice, so overwhelmed. 

“You better, princess.” You growl and then squeak as Abby gains her speed back.

The mess of whimpers and grunts gets louder as Abby approaches her orgasm while she is watching you cry from overstimulation, feels your fingers grip her throat, listens to the best sounds in her life and this all trips her over the edge. Abby ruts into you, chasing her orgasm, and moans into your shoulder when it finally hits her. Her hips erratically slam into you and you tug on her hair: the perfect mix of pain and pleasure makes Abby see stars.

You can't help the quiet moans that leave your throat on every exhale: you're still pulsating around Abby's strap, and Abby lies on top of you, making your sensitive skin feel her everywhere, even though she is fully clothed. 

“Holy fuck.” You chuckle, surprised. “Are you okay, babygirl?”

Abby hums in agreement. 

“Tired?” You are gentle now, smoothing Abby's hair out: you don't know her limits in this.. order of things, so you're being careful. 

“No, ma'am.” Abby presses her forehead to yours and you smirk. “Whatever you want, I'll do it.” 

“Yeah? Did it feel good to cum while you fucked me?”

“Yes, ma'am. You're so beautiful when you cum.” Abby looks into your eyes, needy, definitely waiting for something. “Can I kiss you, ma'am?”

You hum and pull Abby into the kiss and she gets bold, kissing you a little too aggressively than she is supposed to, but you let her - she deserves it. She shifts her hips and the strap presses inside you, making you gasp into her mouth. Abby gets excited and presses harder, but you stop her. 

“What do you think you're doing?” 

Abby just looks at you dumbly, caught in the act. 

“Please.” That's all Abby can manage. 

“Please what?” You hold Abby's chin between your fingers, making her look at you. 

“I want to make you cum again.”

You pretend to think, but then you let Abby go. 

“Take your clothes off.” You tell her. 

Abby nods and slowly pulls out of you: you feel your hot slick dripping down your ass and it makes you smile - you like knowing how well Abby fucked you. 

“You see this, princess?” You nod at her absolutely soaked strap. “You see how good you made me feel?” 

Abby swallows, really tempted to lick the strap clean since it has your cum on it, but you asked her a question and she has to answer.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“I bet your pussy is drenched as well.” You smirk and Abby blushes while she takes her clothes off. “Come here, princess, and ride my clit.” 

Abby freezes for a second, taken aback, so, “Colour?”

“Green.” Abby says in the husky voice and gets on top of you. She slots herself between your legs and- “Oh my God-” Abby gasps when she feels your hot wet cunt on herself. “Oh my god it feels so good.”

You pant as you look over Abby: her collar is loose around her neck, her hair sticks to her back and her eyes are so wide it is almost funny, and you'd have teased her for this, but Abby starts grinding on your clit and all thoughts leave your head. 

Abby's legs and glutes are strong, meaning she moves fast and hard on top of you, bumping your clits together: she slides so smoothly since you're both soaked and you moan quietly, and the idea comes to you. 

“You're not allowed to cum until I do, do you hear me?” You tell her as sternly as possible and Abby whimpers. 

“Yes, ma'am.” 

You smile at her, mean - you know between the two of you Abby always cums quicker, so you just set her up for failure. And Abby knows it as well, looking at you with pleading eyes and an open mouth as her moans leave her lungs - she hopes you'll be kind to her. But you won't. 

You try to calm down your breathing and hold off your orgasm, even though Abby is moving perfectly: she is fast and her clit brushes over your clit just right. And then you feel how Abby sneakily tries to slow down. 

“Are you tired, princess?” You ask with mock concern. 

“No ma'am.”

“Then pick up the speed and make me cum.” You tell her with the steel in her voice. 

“But ma'am, I'll cum.” Abby whines. “I wanna be good for you, please.” 

“I told you, you don't get to cum until I do. Figure it out.” 

You're being mean to her and Abby doesn't have a choice but to pick the speed again and try to not cum, even though she feels how close she is: she is already twitching when your clit touches hers just like she needs it, and it won't take long for her to fail you. 

And Abby knows you are good at punishments, so she decides to do only one thing she can:

“Ma'am, please, I can't hold it any longer, please-” You frown and slap her thigh lightly, not pleased. “Please, I'll be good, please can I cum now, I'll do anything you want, I can't- It's too much-” 

Abby is sobbing but keeps going, driving herself insane: she can't stop herself from cumming but she also can't stop moving without you punishing her and Abby feels her adrenaline going up at the thought of what you might do when she fails you. 

“Don't even think about it, princess. I said no cumming.” You growl at her and Abby is done. 

She keeps moving pathetically, riding out her orgasm and thinking you will forgive her if she just keeps going even though her clit is pulsing and her slick is dripping down on your pussy, her pace lost and erratic. You move up and grab her by her collar, letting her moan into your lips as you watch Abby ride out her high. You're pissed off and Abby gets the tingles - the fun ones when she is scared of you but she is also absolutely fucking thrilled about what is to come. 

“Oh, this is a bad, princess.” You tell her coldly. You look so calm and collected while Abby is a mess. She can feel her lower stomach quivering from the aftershocks, her hair is stuck to her body and her face is fully red. “I didn't give you permission, did I?”

“No, ma'am. I'm sorry, ma'am.”

“Sorry is not gonna cut it.” You snarl. “You had the audacity to cum before I was satisfied.”

“I'm sorry, ma'am. Can I make you cum? I promise I will make you feel so good.” Abby pleads, but it's to no avail. 

“No. You fucked up, you won't get to touch me until I let you. Go sit at the edge of the bed.” 

If Abby could whine like a puppy, she would. But she listens and sits where you told her. 

“Give me your strap.” 

Abby perks up with a small hope as she passes you the harness: maybe you will let her fuck you again? Maybe, at least, she will get to lick your cum from the strap? Oh Abby would give anything to just taste you right now. 

But you take the dildo out of the harness and spread your legs, showing Abby your soaked pussy. 

“Hands behind your back and spread your thighs, don't even think about touching yourself. Bad girls only get to watch.”

Abby swallows and does as she is told and just watches as you drag the dildo between your folds, smearing it with your slick.

“You see this? Your cum is all over my cunt.” Oh fuck, Abby thinks. Oh no. She will have to- “Watch how I'm going to fuck it back in and make myself cum, since you were so busy being a brat.”

Abby whines. She can't help it - she is supposed to do it. It's her job to serve you, to please you and make you feel good, and you took it away to punish her. 

“Yeah, I bet it felt nice, not listening to me.” You murmur and moan when you push the dildo inside. Abby watches how it stretches you and her fists tighten, it is supposed to be her. “Can't wait to have your cum inside me, princess. The only good thing from this.” You scoff.

Abby bites her lip to cope with what she is seeing; you pull out and rub the strap on your pussy to collect the slick on her strap just to push back in. Her cum is in you. This thought makes Abby dizzy and desperate: she really considers not listening to this order as well and just- just touch you and taste you. 

“Your cock feels so good.” You taunt her and Abby whimpers. 

“Ma'am, please! Let me do it, I'll make you cum, please-”

“Quiet.” You bark at her and Abby listens. “You don't get to ask for anything. Be grateful you get to watch.”

“Thank you, ma'am.” Abby says in a small voice and quiets down. 

You relax and continue playing with yourself as if Abby is not even here - you're concentrated on your own needs right now, fucking yourself with the dildo, feeling how it rubs all over your walls, and it's not enough now. So you lick two of your fingers and put them on your clit, rubbing and flicking it the way you like, moaning when you feel yourself tighten around the strap. 

Abby is going to cry, she thinks: everything you're doing now is torturing her. She needs to be the one who fucks you and plays with your clit, it's her job. There are red crescents on her palms from how hard she is digging her nails into her flesh, and she is leaking on the bed, because you're so fucking hot. Abby can't take her eyes off you, off your perfect pussy with her cock inside, off your pretty face contorted in pleasure. 

“You're beautiful, ma'am.” Abby blurts out, not controlling herself.

“Yeah?” You smirk. 

“Yes, ma'am.” 

You like it when Abby compliments you, but she is being punished, so you don't give her a chance to redeem herself. You start rubbing your clit faster, feeling your orgasm approaching, and Abby whimpers again: she can see it as well. She wants to beg you again, she needs to make you cum, but Abby also needs to be good, so she stays quiet and doesn't look away. Your thighs start twitching and your moans get louder now, and Abby can't sit still anymore; she almost bounces on the bed, trying to cope with the fact that you're going to cum without her. 

“Fuck, it feels so good.” You taunt her again, knowing how much it upsets her. “Oh, I'm going to cum-” You whimper when you feel the first wave of orgasm washing over you before the whole tsunami of pleasure. 

Abby is panting, her mind is empty, and she watches you again like a predator, feral eyes trained on your face: you look so good when you cum. 

Tsunami hits you and you moan deeply, frozen in place as your cunt pulsates around Abby's strap. Abby doesn't even breathe, waiting for you to come down from your high. She tries her best to be good and patient for you, and you notice it. Abby is damn near tears, but she is still sitting like you told her to, and she is being quiet as well, waiting for you. You feel like this is enough for her and motion her to come to you when your high subsides. 

Abby is super fast as she climbs on top of you, getting comfortable between your legs again. 

“Hi, baby.” You tell her in a sweet voice and Abby buries her nose in your neck, squeezing you in her arms. “You did so well, sat through your punishment like a champ.” 

“Thank you, ma'am.” 

“Do you want to stop?”

Abby looks borderline hurt at your suggestion, and you laugh kindly.

“I’ll take it as a no.” You caress her cheek gently. “Well, since you’ve been so good, I suppose you can choose how you want to fuck me, princess.”

Abby moans at your words - she is so greedy she can’t pick an option right away, she can’t believe her luck! 

“Sit on my face.” Abby says in a low voice that faintly reminds you of her dominant side, but she quickly remembers her place. “Please.”

“Lie down.”

Abby listens and watches impatiently how you get up and swing your thigh over her chest, your soaked pussy so close to her face she feels how her own cunt pushes more slick onto the sheets. 

“Hold me down and leave bruises.” You gasp when Abby immediately wraps her strong arms around your thighs and pulls you down, making you sit on her face. “Good girl.”

Abby moans into your pussy and opens her mouth wide, as if she is really trying to eat you, and you relax in her grip - the pain from her fingers digging into your hips is mixed with the pleasure from her soft flat tongue and you feel amazing. And Abby is so eager, she eats you out feverishly, watching your every movement. Abby needs to make you cum, to hear you choke on your own moans, but right now you only make these quiet breathy moans - so she sucks on your clit and you twitch, overstimulated. Abby grins into your pussy and you frown.

“Oh, you wanna play games, princess?”

And then it’s Abby’s turn to twitch because you push two fingers into her and curl them. 

“Don’t you dare to cum before me again.” You growl at her and Abby mewls pathetically, tugging you even harder, pinching your thighs when you curl your fingers and hit her sweet spot. You whimper, getting high on pain-pleasure equilibrium, and all hell breaks loose. 

Both of you can’t stop your moans, and everything becomes a chain reaction where you fuck your fingers into Abby and Abby drags her tongue over your clit, sucking and rubbing it while her hands try to break your bones with the force she is holding you down. Your thighs are suffocating her, but she is in heaven: you’re all around her, all she smells, tastes, feels and hears - it’s only you. This is how it is supposed to be: Abby under you, serving you, making you feel good like no one, not even you, can.

“Fuck, baby, just like that-” You choke on your moan and Abby moves her hands to your hip junctions, keeping you in one place as her tongue fucks you like you need her to. “Yes, princess.” You hiss and buck your hips into her mouth, but the iron grip she has on you doesn’t let you. 

You keep curling your fingers inside her and Abby closes her thighs around your hand, trying her best to concentrate on you and not cum before you do, but your pace doesn’t falter even when your voice breaks and your hips twitch. Abby concentrates on your puffy, warm cunt and listens to your moans - but it seems to only work against her, spiking her arousal even more, bringing her closer to the inevitable. 

“You are tightening on me.” You smirk and thumb at her clit, making Abby’s hips jump. “You’re gonna cum when I cum.” You manage to tell her and then there are only moans and whimpers as Abby sucks your clit. 

And then she gently grazes her teeth over it and your climax hits you suddenly; Abby eases her grip on you, letting you ride her tongue while you moan and whine for her. You feel how her cunt sucks your fingers in and Abby is such a mess now, cumming on your fingers while you use her face to prolong your orgasm. 

“Good girl.” You whimper and sit on her chest, looking at Abby’s red wet face as she keeps moaning. “Came with me like I told you to, good fucking girl.”

You take your fingers out and Abby makes eye contact with you when you suck your fingers clean. 

“Oh god-” Abby sighs pathetically. “Fuck, ma’am.”

You chuckle, still riding your high, but you find your strength to move and lie next to Abby, petting her head gently with your shaking hand.

“You want to cuddle, princess?”

“I wanna hold you.” You are surprised, but you go back on top of her and Abby wraps her arms around you, caressing your back. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, princess.” You gently kiss her shoulder and then her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. High.” Abby chuckles. “Thank you. It was amazing.”

“You did amazing, baby. I’m proud of you.” You kiss Abby gently, feeling her whole mouth, trying to show her all the love you have for her.

“You got so pissed at me.” Abby grins and you roll your eyes with a smile.

"Was it too much?"

"I think if you want to punish me again like this, you'll have to tie me down. I almost broke, wanted to fuck you so bad." Abby murmurs and you kiss the marks on her throat. "Does anything hurt?"

You're surprised once again - usually you ask this question, but given the circumstances...

"Deliciously." You murmur into Abby's lips and kiss her again.

"We need to get a leash." Abby says suddenly and you snort.

"Yeah, we do."

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

This took way too fucking long- Everyone, gaze upon the Megatron/Galvatron height chart I made. If someone could get me a cold drink, I would love one, I have been working on this for the better part of a month. 26 separate designs, for one character, across 40 years of history. And I had to exclude a couple, the grand total is like 30 different ones. I left those four out because they were just pallet swaps of a design I already had; It felt redundant to include them.

This guy just can not decide if he's named Megatron or Galvatron sometimes, he just switches between the two names at random. I think in Unicron Trilogy, he switches to Galvatron multiple times, and yes, he does switch back to Megatron before every one.

My brain is kinda broken after finishing this. I worked on this one and the Optimus one at the same time (the optimus one is so much bigger holy shit-) and I've lost the ability to feel pain at this point.

Quick Disclaimer, if any of the images look weird, it's because I had to stitch a few separate images together to create a full body shot of the character.

Links to my Bumblebee Chart and my Optimus Chart. !!NEW!! -> Shockwave, Soundwave, Ratchet, and Ironhide. For future reference, all these charts will be filed under my "Transformers Height Charts" tag and my "aka the adventures of a..." tag. Hopefully, my bumblebee post is acting up and idk if the same issue will happen here.

Master Post

Explanations below the cut, I have to justify myself for a few of these.

G1 Beast Wars V1 - ~9 Feet (PMeg. TFWiki, he's so small. Dinosaur Man is so small)

G1 Beast Wars V2 - ~10 Feet (PMeg. TFWiki, This fucker has roller blades. I'm not fucking with you, they gave the T-Rex Roller Blades and he uses them)

G1 Beast Machines V1 - ~12 Feet (PMEG. The Wiki doesn't have any numbers for Beast machines, sadly, but I found an old forum post comparing the heights to the Beast Wars designs, so I win)

G1 Beast Wars V3/Machines V2 - ~13 Feet (PMEG. The TFWiki says this bitch is like 11.5 meters tall, but no, I've done the math, he is not. If he was, Rattrap, a character who is consistently stated to be 1.8 meters tall across multiple sources in multiple languages is actually not that tall. So no, he's about 2 and a bit Rattraps tall, and that translates to about 13 feet. And I'm pretty sure he reverts into this at some point in Beast machines, though correct me if I'm wrong)

G1 Beast Machines V3 - ~16 Feet (PMeg. This design is identical to the Optimal Optimus design so I'm gonna be lazy and use that number. Not like I have many other options.)

Beast Wars 2 - ~16 Feet (Galv. Idk, the wiki had the number and his name is Galvatron, was I supposed to ignore this? Never gonna watch it, but here it is)

Earth Spark - ~16 Feet 2 Inches (Mega. There are no actual numbers for Earth Spark (yet), but I was able to find Bumblebee's height, which I then compared to Optimus's height, and now I can compare Optimus and Megatron.

Yay!- he's so short it's so fucking funny tiny short man universe)

One V1 - ~17 Feet (Mega. I am aware, of the supposed "Canon Heights" listed on the wiki. 32.462 feet, allegedly. But, have you considered A: These numbers are sourced from the Walmart Promotional AR Experience that came out before the movie. B: There are three decimal points, and that number does not convert into a whole number in meters (which is originally what I thought was weird about it). C: The director has said that this movie is both canon to the LA movies and its own separate canon. AND ALSO Meg is taller than Optimus the entire movie but his height is listed as shorter than him on the wiki. They are the same height by the end of the movie, I call BULLSHIT Walmart; these are not actual numbers I will ignore them POST HASTE! Sadly, Megatron has yet to appear in the KCV live-action movies as I make this, but we know Meg and OP are the same height by the end of TFOne, so knock a couple of feet off this one, and we get pre-cog height)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~18 Feet (PMeg. Slightly confusing, but there are two Megatrons in this universe, but they are two completely separate characters. This is Predacon Megatron, design-wise identical to his V1 Beast Wars counterpart, but he is much taller in this universe. So I did some admittedly deranged comparisons to other characters and I got this height. It's a similar ratio to Prime & Primal's height difference so I'm running with it)

Gen 1 V2 - ~ 18 Feet 6 inches (Galv. So the Wiki failed me on this one, but- and maybe this is backwards thinking, the WFCT Galvatron is this height, at least comparing him to WFCT Megatron, who I've decided is the same height as Gen 1 Megatron, who we actually have a number for- I am aware it's convoluted but it's all I got)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~18 Feet 6 inches (Galv. Okay so, Galvatron and Megatron are entirely separate beings in this universe, which is a large departure from Gen 1 where they're effectively the same guy, which means I could compare their heights, and this is about the height Galvatron is. And I have decided that the WFCT Megatron is the same height as Gen 1 Megatron because they're nearly identical otherwise, making the assumption that the Galvatrons are the same easy. The amount of hoops I have to jump through sometimes...)

Gen 1 V1 - ~19 Feet (Mega. TFWiki. Hey look, it's the guy that's the foundation of like 5 other character's calculations)

Prime Wars - ~19 Feet (Mega. As I've said before, I have decided that this design is the same height as the Gen 1 design, because they're identical, yes one is 2d, and the other is 3d but I don't care)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~19 Feet (Mega. You already know what I'm going to say; it's identical to Gen 1. Just try and stop me)

Unicron Trilogy V2&3/ENG&CYB - ~19 Feet (Mega/Galv. He flip-flops so much in this universe, I think Megatron becomes Galvatron 3 separate times. For the uneducated, the Unicron Trilogy has given each of its 3 seasons separate names and 3 separate art styles. These are the designs used in Energon (S2) and Cybertron (S3). The Wiki had Cybertron's numbers but not Energon's, so for my own sanity, I decided the two were the same height. I could have done something in between Cybertron's and Armada's (S1) numbers, but there was a lot of float between the two)

One V2 - 19 Feet 10 Inches (Mega. As I have stated in the previous One entry: I don't trust Walmart, Meg and OP are the same height by the end of the movie, and the KCV LA and One are kinda one universe. Optimus is this height by the end of the movie, therefore so is Megatron. How many times do I have to explain this)

Cyberverse - 21 Feet (Oh sweet, sweet "I don't have to justify or explain my numbers, I have a source". This comes from a screen-shot of this video which has the Cyberverse height chart everyone uses, though the quality of the screen shot is iffy. If anyone has a better one, I would love to see it)

RID 2001 - ~22 Feet (Mega/Galv. TFWiki. Why are there so many Megatrons who become Galvtron at random and look functionally identical to each other why does this keep happening. Also this guy transforms into a hand)

Unicron Trilogy V1 - ~23 Feet (Mega/Galv. TFWiki. I am very tired, we have another functionally identical Megatron Galvatron conversion and I am in pain)

Bayverse V2 - 30 Feet (Mega/Galv. TFWiki, Movies 4 & 5. This time, they're actually identical, and Mr. Bay has once again blessed me with numbers from all of his movies)

Aligned Cont. WF/FOC - ~30 Feet (Mega. TFWiki. Look man, I don't know how he grows nearly five feet between the games and the shows, it's just what the video game info screen said)

Animated - ~31 Feet (Mega. Animated has no actual numbers, but the lovely @phoenix-inanis has provided a frankly astounding resource with their own calculations for the heights of all the TFA characters. Go look at it, it's wonderful -> https://phoenix-inanis.notion.site/TFA-Height-Chart-f6ad2960ca8c4c5b859ee4958723aaa4?pvs=4)

Aligned Cont. TFP V1 - 34 Feet 5 Inches (Mega. Yes, this is from Fandom. But, and I will continue to say this until my lungs give out, this entire universe is just fucking enormous. Look, I believe Bayverse is the most consistent tf universe when it comes to the transformers' models and designs, and if we do some comparisons between characters with similar listed heights (I did it at the end of this post), it's way too close for me not to believe it)

Bayverse V1 - 35 Feet (Mega. TFWiki, Movies 1-3. Look at this bitch, getting his secrets exposed by Mr. Bay. Look at him, he's going to shrink down in the forth movie, gonna get dumped down to 6th place on the podium. Get Shrunk, Idiot)

Aligned Cont. TFP PR V2 - 42 Feet 7 Inches (Mega. Look at this enormous bitch, look at the freak standing there, fuckin enormous n' shit. Wack ass Unicron- Did you know that this is probably the TALLEST base form transformer ever? Excluding any super modes or upgrades or a transforming Cybertronian Base/Spaceship, just default general body size, I'm pretty sure this Megatron is the tallest Regular transformer ever)

Not Pictured: RID 2001 Galvatron Pallet - ~22 Feet (the only thing that was different between the two designs was the colours, if felt redundant to include it), Unicron Trilogy Galvatron Pallet(s) - Armada: ~23 Feet, Energon/Cybertron: ~19 Feet (Again, just the colours changed, otherwise everything else was the same)

I have done it. I have conquered my Everest. I have finished the big two charts. If anyone has any suggestions for which transformer I should aggressively analyze next please tell me I don't know which ones to do next

Here are the different layers separated out into their own pictures, I know it's kinda hard to tell everyone apart when they're all on top of each other.

[safination]

Partners in Death...and Life.

Part I: Radio's not dead

| Part 2: Radio Will Be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself. | Masterlist| ao3 Pairings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem! reader, established relationship, human!alastor, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) acroace!alastor

"Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow. You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.” “Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?” You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” [Or after a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping . . . *checks notes* . . . the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason.]

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You pass the tissue box—the third one already.

Your patient blows his nose, rubbing snot off his snout. He has to stretch his arms to reach his nose. Alligators are known for their long snouts. His nostrils flare when he sniffles.

Used tissue is discarded on the pastel-pink floor despite a pastel-pink trashcan stationed by his webbed feet. It’s been the same pattern for the last fifteen-minutes. Tissue, Sneeze. Floor.

“—and I have this . . . uh . . . like this real bad itch on my eye. I keep rubbing and rubbing but it doesn’t do shit! My eyesight’s gotten worse—It’s already fucked up but this is just different. My roommate hissed at me about getting blood all-over the carpet floors if I kept scratching my scales. Oh. Oh! I’ve been snee—achew!” Alligator snot lands on the pastel-pink floors of the clinic.

Your eyes twitch.

He takes another tissue and waves it around his head. “The top of my head is killing me. Ya’know where that is right?” He blows his nose. “It’s right here,” he says, inching his head closer to you. “The last nurse I went to was blind as a bat! Literally, she had the wings and everything. It was kinda hot.”

“I’m well aware of the location of your head,” you say. “You can lean back now.”

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Pastel pink floor.

Underneath the mix of feathers and hair strands, the bustling of the waiting room catches your ears. Someone curses, booming and violent at another waiting patient. A cough, a sigh, a barf. Painful curses erupt after that. You bring a hand to your ears, wincing as your eardrum ring. Pentagon City’s best and biggest hospital needs better doors, but those lazy sloth fuckers at the top invested at the first material they found.

The alligator sneezes into another tissue. He flicks it with his wrist, and it hits the pastel-pink wallpaper adorned with closed eyes. Maybe Belphegor should be the sin of Pride instead, considering all items are covered in her symbol.

“I really feel like t’was those exterminators ya’know?”

You do not, in fact, know. Half of what this young man says is incomprehensible.

His snout sways left to right when he shakes his head. “It’s only my second one, and this was a close call, and uh . . . well, ever since then I’ve been like this. One even got to my roommate. “

You hum, leaning back on your chair. You should petition to for thicker doors. And while you’re at it, better interior design, and better paint—something that isn’t pastel pink.

“Ugh, and it’s so not cool that this new roommate of mine’s been shedding since the day they moved in,” he says.  “Speaking of shedding, do you think it’s because of those exterminators? Do you think they like spread some sort of weird pollen to make us sick? They’re totally the type to do that.”

You take your pen—your pastel-fucking-pink pen—and poke his alligator sinuses.

Hell does have its own brand of humor. You gave your 20s to studying human anatomy, only to die and find yourself with the need to re-learn the boring part of biology.  (Two books on reptiles, four on mammals, and fifteen on sea creatures.)

“YEOWCH!” His teeth stick out again. You do not know what this means.  “What kind of nurse ar—“

“Doctor.”

“—you? That’s not the top of my head!”

You push back on of the feathers on your head. “Your roommate ‘hissed’ at you? And they’ve been shedding fur for two weeks now.?

“Yeah . . . ?”

You stare at him. “Have you ever considered that you’re allergic to your roommate?”

“Ooooooooooh,” he says. ‘Yeah, I was allergic to cats back when I was alive.”

You grab your (pastel-fucking-pink) prescription pad from the desk drawer. “Control it with some antihistamine. Four pills every 12 hours.”

His teeth start showing. You’re not sure if he’s frowning. It’s hard to tell. “Pills, really?”

You toss what you were writing into the massive pile of germs, mucus, and tissue. “I can give you a nasal spray. I’ll flush the mucus then insert a spray that prevents build-up,” you say. “They last for two weeks and then you’ll need to come back.”

He grabs the last tissue from the box. It still lands on your floor. “Ma’am nurse, do you have any more of this?”

You sigh and reach for a fourth box of tissue. “It’s doctor,” you say. “We keep nasal sprays here in the clinic. I’ll just grab one and you’ll be out in fifteen minutes.”

“No can do,” he says. “Before I died, my coach told me to stay away from that non-organic shit. It’ll mess us up real bad apparently. All those steroids.”

“You have phencyclidine sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Pheny—what?”

“ . . . Angel Dust.”

“The porn star?”

“The drug. You have drugs sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Come on, nurse—”

Threads erupt from your fingers. It snakes around his wrist, coiling and twisting.

He jerks his arm away and cries out when you tighten your hold. Your threads wrap around his legs. It pulls against his waist. Magic binds his arms, and tightens around every joint he owns.

You stop, only when the alligator struggles, trashing against the clinic chair.  His teeth bare and he snaps at whatever he can reach. You tug on one of the thousands of strings digging into his skin. His jaw snaps shut, and it will stay shut. Another tug and his back stretches to straighten. You move your fingers as if a piano laid before you, and he sits up like a good puppet.

Another month of clinic dury will be your punishment if those sloth from down below are lucid enough to do their jobs.Sadly, killing this idiot would have you suspended for three months.

“I am a doctor,” you tell him. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

The tension on your strings marks even the few scales scattered on his body. He’s a real idiot if he continues to struggle.

Delicate movements of your fingers bring him forward, his back still strained, and tilt his snout at a forty-five-degree angle.

Your threads elongate as you move toward the clinic drawers. It loosens around you, careful at keeping you able to move freely. It’s one of the handier parts of your magic. You shake your hands and the threads detach. It sticks to the floor to keep the alligator as your puppet. You scrub your hands thoroughly before taking the nasal spray and filling with with distilled water.

You place on nitrite gloves. It’s always best when dealing with bodily substances such as mucus.

You place a pan underneath and jam the tube up his nostrils, hosing his sinuses with water. The tension of his binding keeps him still. (If you ignore his whining, then that’s your business. The brawl you heard from the waiting room drowned it all out anyway.) He starts breathing better when all the snot flushes to the pan.

“Finished,” you say with satisfaction. You grab your prescription pad and write one for a nasal spray. “I cleared the mucus buildup so you shouldn’t feel any more headaches. The spray will keep your nose clear for as long as you use it. Come back if you start to feel any discomfort. For the rashes just get cream.” You point at the pastel pink door. “The exit’s right there.”

The threads dissolve in the air. He rubs his wrist, trying to soothe the red marks that your strings bring. You hand him the signed prescription.

He doesn’t close the door on his way out.

The broom and dustpan are hidden in one of the taller cabinets—pastel-pink like everything else in the room.

(Well, not everything. The radio sitting on the corner of the counter gives a splash of red into the room.)

You sweep the tissues into the dustpan. Your control over your strings is much more proficient when living beings are involved. Inanimate objects whip around when you use your magic on them, and radios have been difficult to purchase recently. It’s more convenient to clean using your own hands.

“Tagatha,” you call out when the floor is clean. “You can bring in the next one in.”

Silence is your reply.

“Tagatha?”

Your ears quirk. The noises are faint—an occasional cough, silent weeping, and muted voices coming from the television. You peek out the door, eyeing the crowd formed around the corner of the hall where a pAstel-pInK television mounts on the wall.

The door closes with a faint click. You sink into the cushions of the office chair. Vox’s yapping bore you. It was probably some man-child debate about the new extermination date.

Although . . . those serialized dramas he produces, sadly, are interesting enough to be consumed. If asked for your honest opinion, you’d tell them that they were a hot pile of smelly garbage, but you like to leave it playing mindlessly in the background.

Your husband will throw the television out the window the first chance he’ll get.

Too bad he’s occupied.

You grab a piece of paper from the drawer. Management is forcing you to write a thousand-word formal apology. There are about three-hundred words left to write.

Getting caught dissecting the dead bodies from the morgue is a mistake that won’t be repeated. One dead body and suddenly those lazy fuckers have diligence weaved into their DNA.

The body was already dead, and it’s not every day a chance to poke around a chimera’s entrails appears.

The sinner would contribute to something meaningful at least. You’re stuck on clinic duty until you dot your last sentence, and not a moment before

The coffee’s cold now, but consumable.

You reach across the desk, feeling for the knob of the radio. You twist until you feel the clink. Music fills the air—the same twenty-five songs on a loop. You stare at the radio for a moment. Just . . . a small . . . single moment.

 . . . On your kitchen counter, that second cup of coffee should be cold by now. It’s always cold when you trudge through the door. It’s been cold and untouched for years.

Yet, without fail, that second cup you brew will always be waiting for its owner.

“Salutations!” You snap your head to the radio. “Good to be back on the air.”

Huh? The feather on your hair preens. You swipe the radio, your hold on it feather-light.  You turn the knob responsible for volume. The static noise stings your eardrums.

“—ile since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast. Sinners rejoice!”

Murmurs erupt outside your door. You blink and find yourself slamming it open. One foot after another, one step after the other, brings you closer to the television. Your shoulder throbs when you bump into someone, but you keep pushing until you see Vox and his tacky suit enlarged on the screen.

“What a dated voice!”

A reply comes from the radio. “Instead of a clout-chasin’ mediocre video podcast.”

Your feather rises higher. Laughter escapes your lips, it leaves a dry taste. That . . . that ṁ̵̭͔̲̙̦͎̝̜̲̠͙͇̂̏̃̐̂̓̊̂̕̕o̴̢̭̝̙̤̬͚͐̅͗̌̇̂̌̕ţ̷̛̝̂̿h̶̯̟̙̲̘̟̟͙͔̔̋͊̋̿̐͘͜͜ę̶̗̰͔̫͔̗̝̘̻̰̓̓̈̊͜r̵̨̂̏f̶͖̻̱̺͕̹̫̭̠̚u̸̬̺̯̟̦͖̅̂́́̌̚͝ć̴̖͙̰͈͕̉͌̈́́̈̔̀̉̍́͜͠ḳ̴̨̧̗̫̗͖̞̟̑͌̂̀̈́̀͆͒ę̷̛͓̼̟͍̆̆́͆̾͛͝r̵̹̮̤͓̗̹̈́̎̉͌̾͌̏͑̋̚͝.

“Doctor!” Tagatha screeches when she spots you. “I am so sorry. I’ll bring in the next one right away!”

Your eyes are trapped by the screen and your ears by the radio. “It’s alrig—”

Tagatha grabs the closest person to her and shoves you back into the clinic. The door slams shut just as everything goes dark and silent. (Well, it’s not completely dark, once your eyes adjust you can still see as if the lights were open. Another small perk to this body). Your radio, along with the power, stopped working.

“Oh my!” Your new patient bleats.

“We have generators,” you find yourself saying. “I’m sure the power will come on in a minute.”

The cushions of the chair do little to ease your nerves. You pat your hair, trying to get it in control. A pile of feathers starts forming on the PASTEL-FUCKING PINK FLOORS. T̴̹̜͇̅̅͗͜H̶̰̗̄Ơ̶̡̡̻̗͖̋̎̓̓S̴̨͉̝̻͋̽̆́͆Ẹ̸̡̢͐͐͠ ̷̨͚̞̙̀͒̆̆͊Ŭ̵͕̲̪͇͓͐̚G̷̹̝̦̬͊͒Ḷ̶̭͓̎̏̈͘Y̶͇̟̍̉̚ ̷̟͎͕̞͂͑̂̇À̶͉̍̄̈̚S̸͖̖͕͑̏͛̈́S̶͚̤̼̯̀ ̶̻͆P̷̬̝̉Ä̵͕́͊̌S̸̢͍̆̓͝Ṫ̸͖̲̠̾̉͜͝E̷̺͆L̷͖̏͐́͝ ̶̛̟̽͝P̷̪̔͜I̴̹̥̹͖̮͒́̏͘N̸̳̙̼̾̆̿Ķ̶̟̞̜̉͊̓̂̚ ̵͈̬̃̿̄̈́̋F̵̨̨̼̫̘͘L̸̙̠͎̓̆́O̷̧̘͚͉̤̓O̷̤̟̱̼̤͋̍͐R̷̰̝̓͌̌Ș̵̲̝̈́ “Excuse me?” You will paint this room red with the blood of management.  You tap your foot again, and again, and again. “ . . .Doctor?”

Your neck snaps in her direction, eyes wide and staring.

“The . . . uh . . . the lights are back.”

You blink at your patient—huh, she’s a goat. “I apologize,” you say, smiling. “Please, tell me, what brings you here in this hellish afternoon.”

She holds up her bleeding arm. “It’s been like this since the extermination,” she explains. “Some angle got me. Luckily, I was able to run off before I was finished. I thought it would heal on its own like it usually does but it just hasn’t. It keeps bleeding.”

“Well, angel-induced injuries are my specialty,” you say. Tucked away to the side, a mirror hangs. You catch your reflection, and you blow your hair away from your vision, your red sclerae “This will cost you. Injuries caused by angels are . . . difficult to stitch, but not impossible—not for me at least.”

“Oh, yes.” She bleats one more “Dear God, where are my manners? I’m sorry can I ask for your name?”

Your smile widens. “Of course. I’m—"

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow.

You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.”

“Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?”

You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” He steps closer to take a peek. You watch him as his eyes gloss over your matches then your needle driver, then the alcohol lamp. His smile wobbles when he lands on the syringe.

You move the tray, dropping it down on the little cart by the examination chair.

“There’s no need to worry.” You beam at him. “I have the steadiest hands in this city.”

“Hmmmm,” he says. “You must be the other doctor then.”

“Not at all.” You point to your uniform, where the initial ‘NP’ is embroidered next to your name. “Just the nurse practitioner.”

He takes a closer look and reads your name. “Then I have no reason to fret. None at all! In my experience, doctors usually have their noses buried in their books. It’s the nurses that actually get the hands-on experience.” Alastor’s hands move when he talks. “What’s such a talented practitioner doing in such a dinged-up clinic?”

“Management caught me in the morgue dissecting the dead—It’s how I practice my stitches.”

“Really, now?”

You bark a laugh. “Not at all—I’m far too smart to get caught.”

“A witty sense of humor and a steady hand! I am in good hands, indeed.”

You take a seat on the rolling stool. “Yes, yes,” you say, waving your wrist. “You make fine compliments, Sir. I’ll be sure to be extra gentle.” You point towards the examination chair. “But, please hurry to the chair. You’re dripping blood on my floor.”

Alastor glances down. His eyebrows furrow as he glares at where the blood seeps from his sleeve . . . almost . . . almost as if he’s angry. “My apologies,” he says, allowing his blood to drip to the floor.

Alastor shrugs off his coat. It’s rare to see such a dark red—only a few choose such a color. You hum. Alastor is a well-dressed gentleman. Lovely. Those are your favorite kind. He drapes his coat over the spare chair, ignoring the coat racks the clinic provides.

You turn away and wheel yourself closer to one of the drawers on the counter. It takes two attempts until you find the stash of sterile gloves. “Take your seat when you’re ready,” you say. “I’ll take a look once you are.” You place the gloves on the little green cart, right next to your tray.

Alastor takes his seat, landing with an audible ‘humph’. He smiles at you, sleeves rolled and arm ready. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You hold your palm out. “May I?”

His smile wobbles—it’s a small change in expression that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking. “Of course.”

Along his forearm, a long and sharp cut wounds him. The sight of grime that covers the opened abrasions makes you inwardly cringe. You need to clean these as soon as possible. “Why was this not checked sooner?” You rest his hands on the armrest and use your foot to bring the cart closer. “This looks old, and not at all like a freshly deep cut. I prefer it when patients come to me with fresh wounds.”

You grab a bowl with distilled water and pour in a sterile solution. “I assumed it would heal on its own,” he tells you. “It was quite a surprise when it did not.”

“I need to clean this before you die of infection.” You dip his arm into the bowl. He remains silent, but you feel the tension of his muscles under your fingers. “Hopefully there will be no next time, but just in case, next time, please don’t wait a month.”

He laughs, and there, you faintly see it—a twitch in his eye. “It was only a week actually.”

You smile to yourself. “I’d prefer it if it was only a few hours.” You dry his arm with a soft towel, his arm still tensed underneath your touch. “There, much better.”  You release your hold to go to a shelf filled with different labeled vials and select the one you need. With the clean syringe, you draw the contents of the vial. “You’ll feel a bit of a pinch,” you say. You tap its side. “It’s morphine— wouldn’t want you screaming and writhing”

You study his face for a second. There’s just that same dismissively polite smile.

“You can look away if you wish,” you tell him. “It’s why we pin such . . . er . . .interesting decorations around. . . . May I?”

You feel it again when Alastor inches his arm closer. His muscles tense under your touch. It’s almost as if he wishes to pull away. You keep your hold feather-light, but firm.

“Are you a hunter by any chance?” you ask. You don’t prick him—not yet. Not when tension coils in your hold.

“You could describe it that way,” he says, chuckling like he’s told a humorous joke. (You don’t understand why.)

“I figured you were.”

Alastor slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You inject the morphine into his skin, right inside the soft pink tissue. Good. Alastor relaxes when he speaks, it seems. “I do love a good hunt,” he says. “How ever did you know.”

You release your hold and discard the syringe. “Your hands are rough,” you tell him. “And hunters always have this silly notion that injuries magically heal given enough time—along with farmers, actually. Although, farmers are usually much more deluded.”

He flashes that same polite smile. “I'm guessing you’re not a hunter then?”

“How ever did you know?”

You watch his eyes flicker to your palms as you re-arrange the needles. “Delicate hands.”

You flash the same polite smile right back at him. You take a match, and light the alcohol lamp.

Soap spreads all over your palms and up your arm as you scrub your hands. You slip your hands into the sterilized gloves, careful not to contaminate the surface. “I’ll begin now.”

Alastor hums in reply.

You take a scapple and pass it over the flame. You poke him, lightly, but he doesn’t react. Satisfied, you cut back fibrous tissue underneath the skin. You replace the scapple with a needle driver. There was a quiet click when you pinch the tiny curved needle. You pass it over the flame as well. “Can you do me a favor? Can you tell me how many stars are on that wall over there?

Alastor turns to look at you, but you block his eyes with your palm, shielding him from your stiches.

“The wall isn’t over here.”

“I assure you, I’m not afraid of a silly needle.”

“I’m sure you are,” you say. “However, you’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. The last three people who said that took one look and started squirming. One even fainted. It makes your life miserable, and my job harder.

He counts.

“Out loud please.”

He does as he’s told, rather reluctantly.

Hands steady and determination set, you pierce the soft pink tissue with your needle The tissue nearest to the surface is always delicate. You’re certain not to catch any fat in your suture, for fat dies, and a loose stitch is useless. “Well, isn’t this fun!” he says. “I really feel nothing.”

Your concentration does not break. “I don’t remember there only being twenty-six stars. I’m positive there are more.”

“Why is someone as talented as you only a nurse practitioner?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a nurse,” you reply, tugging on the needle. “Well . . .we . . . we certainly could be paid more.”

“Why not become an actual doctor then?”

“My father couldn’t afford it. He wouldn’t send me . . . and . . . hmm.” You smoothly pull the suture thread and begin the next stitch. “And I enjoy this.”

He looks down at you. “Is this all you’ll be satisfied with?”

You focus back on your stitching, hiding your glare. You bring your needle underneath the flesh, making sure to catch the soft tissue. You’re doing an uncommon stitch, but it would be a shame to leave a scar. “You sound familiar.”

You pause to look at him, His smile brightens, and it actually looks like a genuine elated smile. “Why, I’m a radio broadcaster. You might have heard me there.”

“Oh yes,” you hum, turning back to your stitching. “Alastor . . . I remember now. The ladies and I listen to your broadcast as we do our crafts.”

“Knitting?”

“I personally prefer embroidery,” you say. “I get to practice my stitching and make beautiful art.” You pull the thread and begin a new one, stitching his skin like they were shoe laces. “You’re quite the humorous gentleman, I must say, and quite a lovely taste in music. We enjoy your broadcast very much”

“Do you have any of your artworks here?” he asks you. “I would be eager to see them.”

“Maybe next time.” You tug the suture, and his laceration snaps to a close. You tie a knot and snip the end. “Unfortunately, I’ve finished your stitches.”

“Next time then.”

You discard your gloves and go back to the shelf with the vials. You fill up another syringe. You jam the needle into his skin, not enough to hurt, just enough to scare him a bit. “To prevent infection.”

He jerks away from you. “What happened to that gentle touch of yours?”

“It’s still a sharp object, Sir. They tend to hurt.” You smirk and carefully clean the remaining blood on the skin around the sutured wound. You take a bandage from your cart and begin wrapping it around his forearm, covering your sutures. “Don’t forget to drink your pills every 8 hours, with a meal in your stomach, preferably. Replace the dressing every three days. You can come back here or if you’re able to do so, you can change them yourself. Any by the good God, please, visit the nearest hospital should this incident repeat.”

Alastor slides off the examination chair. He grabs his coat as if you didn’t just stitch him close. You start packing when you notice him fixing his bow tie, and smoothing his hair. Huh . . .There’s blood on his coat, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Like he’s used to having it there. Like it’s just something he’s learned to live with. “You were wrong by the way.”

“Pardon?”

“It was quite the pleasure to meet you.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part |Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Hello, welcome to the hell that's been plaguing my head. In case you didn't know Belphegor is the ruler of the sloth ring, and she seems to be in charge of medical-related stuff in Hell. I have the story mostly plotted out, it's just a matter of writing it down. If you have any questions, ask away

[dreamy-diva]

Pov: Fake dating Satoru Gojo leads to fuck him...

Tags: fem!reader, Gojo x reader, first time sex, gentle, fake dating, smut

It's been months since you started dating Gojo or rather fake dating for mutual gains. It's all going smoothly but later you seem to be falling for him. The way he looks at you, his blue eyes being all soft makes your heart skip beat. You didn't know how he felt about you, whether he also felt the same way.

You both get invited to a party, everyone adores you and Satoru. They think you both are so cute and beautiful couples, not knowing the truth. Everyone enjoying, playing games, drinking and dancing. you are talking to your friend when suddenly you felt the gaze of someone only to find Satoru is looking at you. His gaze piercing into you, he smirked and waved at you, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

Everyone cheering for you both to kiss . "Kiss, kiss, kiss", the crowd chanting. Satoru looked at you, moving close, tilting his head to whisper"I think we should kiss, sweetheart, we can't disappoint them, right", his breathe grazing over your neck, but the thing is you made a no kissing rule when you started fake dating. "Rules are made to be broken", his eyes roaming from your eyes to lips, his hands pulling you closer.

"But we can't...", you felt the strong urge to just fuck this rule and kiss him.

He brushed his lips against yours, placing a gentle kiss on yours , then pulling away, licking his lips making you feel weak in your knees. He is such a flirt.

After the party, you left with him in his car because he is insisting to drop you safely. He pulled up his car in front of your house "ok , here we are, take care".

As you started walking away to your house door, something in your heart stirred, you turned and kissed him, almost tripping over your own feet. He wrapped his arms around you, finally giving in "I didn't know you wanted me this much", he bit your lower lip to open your mouth using his tongue to explore you, basically eating you, breathing heavily. Without breaking the kiss, he pushed you inside your home, to your bedroom, his hands removing his coat, then unzipping your black dress. Placing you on the bed, he looked at you like a predator "Damn , I'm waiting for this so much, you didn't even know ,how much I craved for you, fuck", his voice husked, opened his shirt revealing his toned body making you gawk your eyes out "You like what you see, I think you will drool when you see my cock", removing his pant and boxer , his cock already hard, he took out the condom from his inner pocket of his coat. That's right, you are drooling, his cock ready to fill you inside, he hovered above you , unhooking your bra and tossing them god knows where. His fingers linger from your face to nipples, making lazy circles on your lower stomach , slipping his hand under your wet soaked panties. "Already so wet, I will make you feel so good, you will beg me for more", ripping your panties into shreds, "Wait that was my expensive lace panty". "Don't worry I'll buy more for you" , slipping his fingers into your pussy , making you shiver.

His other hand pinching your nipples

"How sensitive are you, darling, is this your first time?", his fingers slowly slipping in out , "Yes..hngh..ngh..".

"Damn I'll make you mine then, I'll be gentle". His blue eyes locking into yours "You ready?", positioning himself between your thighs "spread your legs wide for me", he wrapped his arms around your thighs pulling you closer

"Now I gotta put my cock into your pussy, ok". You nodded in response.

Satoru thrust inside you slowly gently

"Are you okay, if it hurts tell me , okay". You nodded feeling his cock inside you and yes damn it hurts a little, your eyes teary, mouth parted, face flushed. You didn't even thought you will be doing sex with Satoru. You closed your eyes, gasping for air .

"Look at me when I'm inside you, only me", he put his hand onto your lower stomach, slightly pressing it, making you squirm in pleasure.

"Is this feel good", he thrust in out, deep inside, your walls clenching around his cock "Fuck, you feel so good, so ...hngh good, your pussy sucking the soul out of me, fuck,fuck".

Satoru is really controlling himself not to get you hurt as it's your first time otherwise he would have fucked you hard, senselessly that's the power you hold.He was waiting for this moment, he always liked you since you first met him , then the opportunity came to him to date you.

"Satoru I'm gonna... cum..hngh..".

"Yes darling, I know, relax yourself, ok", he thrust into fast. At last, you both cum.

"You okay, sweetheart", he asked, concerned about you. "Yes I'm fine, it was so good".

"Can we go for another round".

A/n : I would literally do ANYTHING he wants me to.

[cherry-romper]

Days off with them

+ Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Marco, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Levi, Erwin, Hange, Reiner, Bertholdt, Annie, Porco, Pieck, Zeke

Eren; Staying Behind

You and Eren had been assigned cleaning duty that morning - even though it was supposed to be your day off.

Eren listened to you while you ranted and raved about how you shouldn't be doing it and should be allowed to be free for the day.

You'd both been invited to the market with Sasha and Co. but the Eren said he didn't fancy it.

You silently thanked Eren, because you, too, didn't want to go to the market.

The two of you then spent the day sparring together and messing around.

Mikasa; Hanging out

You'd gone camping the night prior to your day off. Your camp consisted of the top ten in the cadets and a few others, such as yourself and Armin.

You'd shared a tent with Sasha and Mikasa, so the three of you all woke up around the same time.

Sasha was excited to go hunting so she left just you and Mikasa to decide what to do for the day.

It was Mikasa who asked if you wanted to spend the day with her, much to your surprise.

Armin; Library

The two of you met, coincidentally, in the library. You'd been looking for a book all morning and couldn't find it anywhere.

As it turns out, Armin had already checked that book out, although he hadn't read it yet.

He told you his plans for the day; to read under a tree until sundown, then go home and read some more.

Since he had the book you wanted, you proposed you tag along with him, and read the book you wanted together.

Marco; Lazy Day

You weren't used to having time to yourself. So, when the time came to relaxing you weren't sure what to do with yourself.

Like most soldiers you slept in, but this made you miss breakfast.

You soon learned that Marco had been waiting for you all morning in the mess hall.

He brought breakfast to your room and helped you adjust to the free time.

You ended up being overwhelmed from actually being able the think for once. Marco stayed with you, per your request, and comforted you the entire day.

Jean; Market

Jean's love language is quality time (among others), so on days off he often waits for his friends to suggest something and just tags along.

He's down for anything as long as he's with the people he loves, especially you.

He also loves doing things, he's not one to just sit around and talk, he like to be actively doing something. i.e. walking around, cleaning, working out. He doesn't mind what he's doing, as long as he's not doing it alone.

He LOVES the marketplace. He finds comfort in the ambience of the bustling people.

Connie; Visiting Family

Any excuse to go home, and Connie is there.

Recently though, he's been torn between savouring the time with his friends or visiting his family again.

Either way he might not see any of them again, so he often acts out of impulse on the day.

So, being the genius he is, he drags you along to visit his family with him.

Sasha; Hunting

She offered to teach you how to hunt, telling you it was an essential life tool.

You listened to her intently, being sure to mimic her movements precisely.

Still when it came to killing a small bunny, you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

She found it so heart warming that you couldn't kill the innocent, contrary to the way you were on a battlefield.

Levi; Tea Shop

Days off for the Scout's faculty don't really exist, most live by the "I'll sleep when I'm dead" motto – especially Levi

Still, you had convinced him to tackle his ever-growing pile of paperwork in a small tea shop in the market.

It didn't last long, he hated how many people came in and out of the shop, no work was completed.

Instead, the two of you peacefully people watched soaking up each other's company

Hange; Experiments

As per, Hange could be found hunched over their notes, frothing at the mouth thinking about the breakthroughs they could make.

They insisted you work with them to come up with new theories.

You were smart and they respected that, plus you had a similar passion as them – less to do with titans and more to do with finding out the truth.

It wasn't how you'd wanted to sped your day off, but seeing Hange light up when you'd theorise with them made it worth it.

Erwin; Working

What else would this man be doing? He was more likely to work himself into a grave than he was to die in combat.

Still, he didn't often get time to simply hang out with his comrades. So, he got up early, working himself to the bone to get his paperwork done at record pace, simply so he could spend a blissful summers evening in your company.

Reiner; Napping

It wasn't his intention, nor yours, to fall asleep in the pasture.

You had been cloud watching, trying your hardest to take your minds off the horrors that played on repeat.

You brought each other so much comfort that it was almost impossible to not feel tired around each other.

It was jean who found you two, tangled together in the field. He NEVER let you two live it down.

Bertholdt; Market

Everyone had suggested it, but neither of you wanted to go. Still, come 7 am, you found yourself in the back of a cart and on your way to the market.

Somewhere throughout the day you had lost everyone, leaving the two of you alone together, to wander the stalls.

Bert felt rather homesick, seeing all the shops gave him a horrid nostalgia. You'd taken notice of his hesitation and hooked your arm with his, trying to offer his as much comfort as possible.

He was taken aback sure, but your touch helped him more than he thought it could. To be honest, it scared him a little.

Annie; Hanging out

Absolutely, not in the mood to do anything, ever. She just wants to get her mission over with, she has no real reason to do anything or make friends.

Still, she's grateful that you, along with some others, still try to spend time with her.

Even so, she spends the day in her room but not without inviting you to come sit with her.

Porco; Beach Walk

You had decided to travel along the coast for your day out, desperate to get away from the busy city.

Was it an authorised absence? Not at all. And somehow you managed to convince Porco to come with you.

You didn't tell him that you 'technically' weren't allowed to be leaving Liberio, when he find out he tried to convince you to go back, scared of the repercussions.

However, after seeing you so happy to be on the beach, he decided the consequences would be worth it, given neither of you had long left to live.

Pieck; Hanging out

Still not used to her legs, Pieck had asked you to stay with her while she caught up on her books.

She'd been wanting to read them when she got back from Paradis, so to do so in your company was more than she could have hoped for.

Though, she often found herself getting distracted by you, who sat next to her, head bobbing as you feel asleep reading your own book.

Zeke; Hanging Out

Simply put, he took you on a walk around Liberio.

He kept you close the whole time, being sure you were safe, talking about everything and nothing.

He was content with just being.

Even for just a moment, if he could exist alongside you, everything he'd done would have been worth it.

[analog-cottage-gore]

this was gonna be tags but nope

Wow. Lemme look up worm fanfic.

Surprisingly I'm not seeing any horrifyingly bad fanfic (On ao3 at least) maybe it's as if there's some bias 🤔

But honestly I don't care if you don't like it, but you don't have to go "Um actually all of this fandom's fanfic is bad and so is isekai as a genre” and use the “we are not the same” meme unironicaly.

Also literally saying “the bourgeoisie are important allies”???? The fuck?

Anyway @hoooooooooot I will read Desperate Times, thank you!

you take the blue pill, and worm gets an awful sequel, but never has any good fanfiction.

you take the red pill, and pact gets a medicore sequel, but never gets any fanfiction at all- hey man what the fuck. you cant just gobble them both up like that. stop chewing on them what’s wrong with you. dude. not cool