#what comes to mind when you think doritos

[chrissturnsfav]

𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓

you have been friends with the triplets for a while now, but you and matt started sneaking around only about a month ago. you, matt, nick, and chris are watching a movie, but you and matt's minds are traveling elsewhere.

ᰔᩚ fwb!matt, softdom!matt, smut, fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it b4 you tap it), creampie, fluff, use of pet names, talking you through it, use of y/n, slight teasing, dirty talk

ᰔᩚ w.c. 1,836

back to the future is playing on the tv in the triplets' living room, but you're struggling to keep your focus on the movie. you, matt, nick, and chris are all sat on the couch in a comfortable silence, the only noise coming from the tv and chris chewing on doritos.

however, underneath the blanket, matt's hand rests on your thigh, getting dangerously close to your core with each passing minute.

your body is practically aching with desire, your mind yelling at you to just text matt to meet you in his bedroom. a quiet exhale leaves your mouth when his hand slowly comes to cup your heat.

your brows furrow slightly as you keep your gaze fixed on the tv—but your mind is anything but focused on the movie when he runs a finger through your clothed folds. you let out another exhale, this one slightly shaky.

matt's eyes are fixed on the tv, his expression focused—but you know what's really on his mind. his hand then moves beneath your pants, then under your panties and he runs two cold fingers through your dripping cunt. you clear your throat to suppress the moan that threatens to leave your mouth.

but then when his two fingers begin to rub slow circles on your bundle of nerves, you gasp slightly, eyes involuntarily closing and matt smirks.

nick furrows his brows at the sound of your gasp before turning to look at you and you immediately open your eyes, looking at the tv screen again.

nick speaks in a confused tone with his brows still furrowed as matt continues his actions on your aching clit, "you good?" he says sarcastically, catching chris' attention and he turns his head to look at you.

you turn your head to look at both of them with a soft smile, "yeah, why?"

nick shrugs, turning his attention back to the tv, chris follows his actions.

matt scoffs under his breath, pulling his phone out of his pocket with the hand that isn't still rubbing at your nub to text you.

matt sturniolo

can't keep quiet can ya

y/n y/l/n

shut up

read, 11:16 pm

matt sturniolo

says you

matt sturniolo

watch this

matt smirks at the messages, tossing his phone aside before slowly pushing his middle finger inside you without warning. his index finger continues to rub circles on your clit, but faster this time.

your eyes widen as you grip the blanket on your lap, lips parting at his sudden actions and you swallow hard, desperately trying to keep quiet.

matt's smirk on his face grows as his eyes stay on the screen. you let out a quiet exhale letting him pump his finger in and out of you for a few moments. as it grows harder for you to suppress your sounds, you pick your phone up again.

y/n y/l/n

matt i can't

y/n y/l/n

we need to go upstairs

matt sturniolo

idk i'm pretty comfy here

y/n y/l/n

please

y/n y/l/n

i can't

matt sturniolo

meet me in my room in 5

matt pulls his fingers out of your pants, wiping them on his pants before shifting out of his seat, "gotta take a piss, be right back," he excuses himself to which chris and nick nod before turning their attention back on the tv.

you nod as well, playing it off as matt disappears upstairs. as you continue to watch the movie, you think of excuses to make as to why you need to leave the room.

five minutes go on and you pull the blanket off your legs, speaking up, "i have to pee," you say standing up.

chris and nick look at your for a second before nodding. you let out a sigh of relief when they don't question you.

when you get upstairs, you scurry to matt's room as your core throbs for attention and you throw the door open, closing and locking it behind you.

matt is sat on the edge of the bed, smirking at your presence before standing up and licking his lips, walking over to you.

you stare up at him through wispy lashes, lust evident in your eyes and a knowing smirk on your lips. you open your mouth to say something, but matt presses a finger against your lips, his face inching close to yours.

"shh," he hushes, staring down at you mischievously, "remember, you're supposed to be in the bathroom, gotta be quiet," he says in a low tone. you reply with a nod and he smirks, "good girl," he mutters, turning you around and walking into you.

your legs hit the back of his bed and he lets you fall, crawling on top of you to hover his body over yours.

his chain dangles in your face and his eyes dart from your lips to your eyes, desire overflowing both of your bodies. he presses his lips against yours and you exhale into his mouth, he takes this as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

your tongues dance in sync for a few seconds, his hands trailing down your waist before resting at the waistband of your sweatpants. he slowly pulls them down, tossing them onto the floor as your arms wrap around his shoulders, silently begging for more.

he smirks against your lips, pulling your panties down and off your body, tossing them to the floor with your sweatpants. you tug at the hem of his shirt, whimpering into his mouth.

he breaks the kiss, his lips swollen as he licks them and looks down at you with a sensual look on his face, "take it off, baby."

you smirk up at him, pulling his shirt over his shoulders. he leans up to pull his jeans down, tossing his shirt and jeans to the floor to join the rest of your discarded clothes.

once he gets your shirt off, he stares down at your exposed body with a bite of his lip, "mmm...so beautiful," he mumbles, his hand trailing down to rest on your hip.

"please," you plead, body now aching for him.

matt smirks down at you, raising his eyebrows, "yeah? you want it?" he asks.

you nod, eyes fluttering closed as he pulls his boxers off his body and his dick springs out, "need it...so bad, matt...please," you mumble.

matt nods, positioning himself between your legs and tapping himself against your sopping entrance. you gasp at his actions, opening your eyes. matt shakes his head as he smirks down at you, "keep those pretty sounds quiet, yeah?"

you nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders again, your legs wrapping themselves around his back, "mhm," you hum into his ear.

"that's my girl," he whispers before slowly pushing himself into you. he hisses quietly at the sensation, eyes closing. your eyes roll back and lips part as you suppress a moan.

matt's hips move rhythmically into you, his pace slow but hard and gentle as he grunts lowly. you desperately try to keep your whimpering low in his ear, panting quietly, "mm...feels s'good," you whisper out a moan.

matt hums quietly in response, "mmm...i know," he moans quietly, continuing his actions bit faster.

you suddenly gasp, slightly loud and matt tuts, slowing his hips again and staring down at you, "shhh...quiet, baby," he whispers in a grunt.

your eyes squeeze shut and you nod, "m-mm-mhm..." you hum, panting quietly and he smirks at your nod, moving fast again.

matt hisses above you, holding your hips in place as he rocks into you biting his lip in pleasure, "fuck...so pretty, so tight..." he mumbles quietly.

you feel the familiar knot in your stomach forming, signaling that you're close and your thighs tighten on his back as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

you pant heavily, throwing your head back into his pillows, "m...mmm...'m gonna...gonna cum," you barely whisper out and matt nods, bringing a hand up to your mouth to muffle your noises as he pulls his head out of your neck.

"mhmmm, cum f'me pretty girl, c'mon," he mumbles lowly, his own high approaching.

you pant against his hand as he rests his forehead against yours, eyes burning into your closed ones. "c'mon, pretty, you got it," he mutters, pulling his hand away to brush his lips against yours. his hand intertwines with your fingers and you squeeze his hand tightly.

the knot in your stomach snaps and your mouth falls open, eyes rolling back as you desperately hold back your moans, letting it come out in a sharp gasp.

matt connects his lips with yours to muffle your sounds, his tongue sliding against yours. you coat his dick in a film of your cum, moaning quietly into his mouth and gripping his clammy hand harder.

"mmm...yeah, baby, look at you," he mumbles against your lips, pulling them away from yours when you begin to come down from your high in low pants.

matt's own high gets closer and his thrusts become sloppier, staring down at you with his eyes rolled back, "fuck...gonna fill you up, baby...gonna fill you up so good," he moans quietly and you nod, fluttering your eyes closed.

matt pulls his forehead away from yours, his hand not intertwined with yours moving to rest on your waist, pulling you down against the sheets to move against his hips.

matt hisses, "shiiit," he mumbles before his cock twitches inside you, coating your walls in his cum. he throws his head back, gasping lowly as you watch him cum.

he rides out his high before pulling out of you, looking down at your pussy to watch his cum dripping out and he spreads your folds to get a closer look. he licks his lips as you sit up on your elbows, still trying to catch your breath. "tsssk, so pretty," he mumbles, not taking his eyes off your core.

you smile softly at him and he shakes his head at your pussy, smiling at it before standing off the bed, "you good?" he asks as he pulls his clothes back on.

you nod, standing up and grabbing your clothes, "mhm, i'm okay," you say, redressing yourself with a small smile.

matt smirks, buttoning his jeans as he looks at you, "i'll go down first, yeah?"

you chuckle, nodding as you pull your shirt back on, "yeah, go ahead."

matt smiles, nodding and ruffling your now messy hair, "you can clean yourself up, right?"

you nod, chuckling again as you stare up at him, "yes, i got it."

matt nods, licking his lips before pecking yours softly and walking towards the door.

when matt leaves his room to go back downstairs, you clean yourself up quickly before staring at your disheveled appearance in his mirror and you shake your head, scoffing to yourself as you wonder what matt's excuse to taking so long is gonna be to his brothers.

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: LOVE SOFTDOM!MATT!!! hope you guys liked this hehe. i wrote this how i imagine matt would be during sex which is very soft, talking you through it, while still teasing you a lil bc i think its so hot

thank you for reading!! <3

@chrissturnsfav ™

[zweiginator]

Reader making out with Tashi after she wins a game at Stanford. And Art and Patrick are jealous!

Oh my god yes...

Patrick and Art are obsessed with you two. You're not on the women's tennis team at Stanford, but you and Tashi had been assigned as random roommates freshman year and had been inseparable since. You came to all of her matches; you were the first person she ran to after a big win, pressing a big kiss against your cheek and spinning you around, high on adrenaline.

Patrick and Art had fantasies about the two of you. Of course, as the two best players on the men's tennis team, you both knew of them. But neither of you had paid much attention to them. They were exceptionally popular and well-liked, and every girl (and mom) within a 100-mile radius of Stanford University knew and admired the two of them. Fire and ice.

They would talk about the two of you late at night as they stared at the ceiling, watching the fan go around and around until they were dizzy and drunk off PBRs.

"I think they are just really close. Girls are like that." Art said, sitting up to rest on his elbows. They had a match the next morning at UC Berkeley; the team was staying at a hotel close to the campus.

"Yeah, maybe." Patrick sighed. "I would do anything for them."

"I don't know who wouldn't."

Patrick sat up quickly. "Do you think she is here?"

"Well," Art responded, his mouth full of cool ranch Doritos. "Given Tashi is on the team, I would say yes."

Patrick threw a pillow at his friend from his side of the room. "No, dipshit. Like, I think Y/N comes with Tashi sometimes on these trips. 'Cause she never misses a match."

"Okay asshole." Art rolled his eyes. "I don't obsess over every move they make like you do."

"Bullshit."

"What is your point?" Art changed the subject, confused at where Patrick's mind was headed. He figured somewhere perverted.

"I mean," Maybe it was the five beers in Patrick's quite empty stomach that was giving him this idea. This confidence. He was usually good at girls, but he couldn't get himself to talk to the two of you--especially not sober. "Maybe we could find their room. And maybe we could hang out with them."

Art lit a cigarette, his second of the night. "We have never spoken more than 5 consecutive words to them. What makes you think that would ever work out?"

"Can you not be a pussy for just tonight?" Patrick got up, pulling his linen button down on. He grabbed Art's cigarette from between his lips and took a hit. "Or be a pussy, and I'll just go by myself."

Art stood up quickly. "I'll go." He stole his cigarette back, ashing it into the trash bin haphazardly placed between their beds. "But how do we know what room they are in?"

They knew the girls' team was staying on the floor above them. And they knocked on every door until you answered, rubbing your eyes.

"What are you guys doing here?" You yawned, whispering to not awake Tashi, who was sleeping soundly on the side of the bed closest to the alarm clock, which read 2:15 AM. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

Art looked embarrassed; he was red in the face. But Patrick leaned into the room, looking down at you in a shirt he recognized as Tashi's and little sleeping shorts that made his breath hitch.

"We wanted to see if you guys wanted to hang out." Patrick raised his eyebrows and looked over to Art, who nodded.

"We can't sleep. We were thinking it would be cool to get to know you guys better, I guess."

"You mean Tashi?" You whispered. "She's sleeping, you know."

"No," Patrick shook his head. "Both of you."

Tashi stirred awake. She was wearing a black tank top and similar sleeping shorts as you were. "What's goin' on?" She slurred.

"Patrick and Art are here."

"Why?" Tashi, sat up; her hair was in a neat braid. "It's late."

"They have beer, and they want to hang out." You were half making fun of them, how they looked so nervous.

"We can't sleep." Art repeated.

"Sure, come in." You didn't know if Tashi meant it. She was delirious when she was tired. But you allowed them inside, curious about their intentions.

Obviously, they were attractive. They were also exceptionally talented. But you and Tashi were content in your own little bubble, eating gummy bears and potato chips in bed and laughing at inside jokes from 3 years before.

You sat on the bed, next to Tashi. The boys sat on the carpet, looking up at the two of you.

"So," You said, hugging a pillow to your chest. Tashi rested her head on your shoulder. "Did you come here hoping to fuck us or?"

"Wha-"

"No," They responded, simultaneously. But their cheeks changing from peach to crimson told you and Tashi otherwise.

"We are just interested in getting to know you both."

Tashi scoffed. "Oh, Y/N, they are interested in getting to know us."

You laughed, throwing your head back.

You and Tashi noticed the dynamic you had created, completely on accident. She and you on the bed, them below you. Their eyes were glassy and lips parted, and you knew if you told them both to jump out the fifth story window, they would do it before they knew what exactly they were doing. You looked at each other and licked your lips.

"So if we offered to fuck you guys, you would say no?" You asked, furrowing your brows together.

"No, no, I wouldn't say that," Patrick scooted forward, hugging his knees. He looked vulnerable and small. "I can't speak for Art, but I-"

"I wouldn't say that either." Art said bluntly.

"Y/N," Tashi said, pushing your hair behind your ears. You were facing each other on the bed now; the boys were blurry in your peripheral vision. "How do you think they would kiss us?"

Patrick and Art swallowed.

You thought. "Hmm," You answered. "I bet it would be desperate."

"I think so too," Tashi leaned in, her lips brushing yours. "Probably pretty sloppy."

She kissed you, tangling her hands into your hair. You cupped your face, pulling her even closer than she already was. Your mouths opened against each other's, exchanging spit and each other's hungry moans. You pulled her braid to expose her neck, and kissed down the column of her throat, climbing on top of her. You and her had never done this before; of course, there existed the inevitable rumors, but they were untrue--until now.

"Holy fuck." Patrick was the first to break the silence; you and Tashi grinding against each other as Tashi's hands kneaded your ass.

Patrick's hand grazed the bed, a move made in an attempt to join.

"Uh uh uh." You tsked. "No touching."

Tashi flipped you around so she was on top now. Her thumb grazed your bottom lip, pulling your mouth open. You whimpered as her spit fell onto your tongue. Tashi pushed your--her--shirt up, palming your tits.

"Can we-" Art began.

"Can you what?" You and Tashi asked simultaneously, pulling away from each other. A string of your mixed saliva connected the two of you for just a second longer.

The boys rolled their heads back and moaned.

"Can we join you?" You could see their boners, prominent in their sweatpants. Beads of sweat dribbled between their collarbones and over their brows.

"God, you guys sound pathetic." Tashi laughed. "What do you think, Y/N?"

You pretended to think. "Well, I guess it's only fair." You began. You saw the boys' ears perk up like they were hungry little puppies, their lips bitten from lust. "That you guys show each other a little love and appreciation."

[pipsyy]

caught...

sub!hamzah x f!reader smut (lowkey perv!hamzah if you squint)

hi everyone! i thought of this idea at like 3am a couple nights ago and it has been plaguing my mind ever since. please enjoy! message me requests please! i am desperate for prompts.

summary: after losing a few of your panties, you begin to suspect your shy roommate Hamzah. but, coming home early one night, you are met with a sight that would change things for good.

warnings: smut under cut! DON'T read if you are under the age of 18.

word count: 2575

For weeks, you had been losing your underwear. You would put your clothes in the washer, then the dryer, but by the time you got back to your room and folded your clothes, one, or sometimes two, pairs of your panties were missing. It was concerning, to say the least. However, when you lost your favorite pair (pink cotton with white lace and bows), you began to get frustrated.

“Hamzah?” you ask your roommate while he’s in the kitchen getting snacks.

“Mmh?” he responds, mouth full with doritos.

“Kind of a weird question—I mean, you probably have no fucking clue—but have you seen my panties anywhere? I can’t find them.”

At the mention of panties, Hamzah’s cheeks flush a light shade of pink. “Panties?!” he asks, mouth still full. He swallows thickly. “No, I mean, I don’t think so. What do they look like?”

“Um-” you felt yourself blush a light shade of pink, thinking about how embarrassing it was talking about your panties with your hella attractive roommate. “They’re pink and white—bows too.”

If possible, Hamzah flushed an even deeper shade of red. “O-oh, no. No. I haven’t seen them anywhere,” he huffed out an awkward laugh, looking anywhere else in the room but your eyes.

“That’s okay,” you say, giggling awkwardly. The tension palpable in the room. “Just…you know, if you do see them, let me know.”

—

Later that week, after getting home early from a party, you were met with the most surprising of circumstances. You entered your apartment and kicked off your shoes; the 4-inch heels had killed your feet. Every light in the apartment was off—save for the small light emanating from the clocks on the oven and microwave—and it was dead silent. Eerily silent. You knew that Hamzah was home, I mean, he never left. But it was only 11pm, which was way too early for him to go to bed. You at least expected to hear him typing on his computer, or hear the faint sound of his laptop playing a show, or hear him yelling at whatever stupid game he was playing with Martin. But no. Absolutely nothing.

Just then you heard it. Although you weren’t exactly sure what “it” was. A faint, but deep, groan, as if someone was crying out in pain. You strained your ears, listening for that noise again. There! There it was again, the exact same noise, although this time you could hear a faint squeaking following the groan.

“Hamzah,” you hesitantly call out. You creeped forwards in the direction of his bedroom. The deep sounds followed by squeaking got louder as you neared his room. The door was ajar and you peeked through the crack. You almost let out a loud gasp at the sight before you, clapping your hands over your mouth to prevent any noise from escaping your lips. Hamzah was stretched out on his bed, head tilted back as he thrust his cock into his hand. You shot back from the door, face reddening. You felt embarrassed for staring so unabashedly at the dark-haired man in such an intimate situation. Even so, you felt a throbbing deep in your core and you knew that if you reached down to touch your panties beneath your dress, you would be soaking wet. Slowly, mentally slapping yourself, you peered through the crack in the door again. Hamzah’s head was tilted back in pure ecstasy, pretty lips spilling whines and groans as the bed squeaked with every thrust into his hand. You watched, panties growing wetter by the second, as he reached next to him and brought a piece of fabric up to his nose, inhaling deeply and letting out a heady whine. Your eyes widened as you recognized the slip of fabric as your favorite pair of panties. The pink ones with the white lace. 

Your name spills from his lips, eyes rolling back into his head. Holy fuck. You sat on your knees, rolling your wet folds against the palm of your hand. You couldn’t believe the sight before your eyes. Your roommate—who you’ve had a crush on since moving in with him—was jerking off to you, your underwear pressed deeply into his nose. Hamzah’s hips stuttered, edging dangerously close to release.

“F-fuck, y/n,” he whimpered. “S-so good. So fucking pretty. G-gonna, gonna cum, shit.” At this desperate confession, a high-pitched whine escaped your parted lips and your eyes widened, clapping your hands over your mouth. Hamzah abruptly stopped his motions, whipping his head in the direction of the unprecedented sound. His glossy eyes met yours, fucked-out expression directly mirroring your own.

“S-shit,” he said breathlessly, stumbling out of bed and covering his erection with the sheets around his legs. You shot backwards from the door, tumbling directly into the wall. Hamzah fumbled to get pants on, and ran towards you, a pleading look in his eyes.

“Holy shit, y/n. I-I, um, I had no idea that you were home. I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t do that. Not if I knew that you were here.”

You were still sat on the floor, pink blush fast-spreading across your cheeks. You felt a coy smile tickling your lips. “Were you—” you looked up at Hamzah, feeling a dangerous rush of confidence flood your mind, “Were you jerking off to me?”

Hamzah’s eyes widened impossibly large. “I–no. I mean…no,” he said. “Definitely not.”

“Really,” you said seductively, rising up from your position and stepping closer to the trembling man. “Because…” you leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I swear I heard you say my name.” A deep red blush spread across Hamzah’s cheekbones and he swallowed audibly.

His voice lowered a decibel. “No,” he whispered. “No, I wasn’t.”

You smirked at how flustered you made him. “I didn’t take you for a liar, you know.” You pushed past the taller man into his room. The moment you enter, you felt your core throb, the smell of sweat and sex and and something purely Hamzah penetrating your nostrils. You made your way to his bed, sheets strewn carelessly, and picked up the pink underwear that had fallen to the floor in Hamzah’s rushed attempt at maintaining his dignity. You dangled the fabric from your extended pointer finger.

“So what are these then?” The panties sway from your finger, and Hamzah’s puppy-like eyes follow the cloth to and fro like a tennis match. 

“I–,” he gulped. “I don’t know how those got there.”

You stepped toward him. “So you’re really just gonna play dumb with me then, huh?” You took careful step after careful step until you were inches away from the timid, trembling man. “You’re not dumb, Hamzah.” You reached up until his glossy eyes came face-to-face with your panties. “Take them.”

Hamzah’s dumbfounded expression stared back at your own. You shifted the fabric forward, directly into his big nose, and he shakily inhaled, eyes almost rolling back into his own head. “F-fuck,” he whimpered out. Swiftly, as if they were never there in the first place, you removed the outstretched panties from his prying nostrils. The look he gave you, as his eyes slowly opened, made your legs weak and your core throb. He looked as though he would give you the world, or anything you asked, as long as he could be face-to-face with that stupid piece of cloth again.

“Tell me what you want,” you asked, voice low and seductive.

“You,” he whispered, eyes darting from your own, to the wall, to the panties still clutched in your hand, and back to your own.

You smile at his bashfulness. “A little louder,” you said, feeling cocky. You reach up to push back his dark, messy curls from his sweaty forehead.

Hamzah’s dark eyes met your own and you melted. “You…I want you. I want you so fucking bad it hurts.” You felt your core tighten. Hamzah looked at you with glossy, pleading eyes. You looked down and noticed the erection still straining in his pants. You turn around and walk to his bed, sitting on the edge. You pat the soft bedding next to you.

“Come here.” Hamzah moved at the speed of light, by the time you blinked he was sitting down next to you, hands politely together in his lap. You lean over to straddle Hamzah’s thick thighs, dress riding up, the thin cloth of your panties doing nothing to stop you from feeling his erection pressing against your wet folds. You intertwine your hands behind his neck while he looks up at you with intense adoration and devotion. Your hands cup his cheeks.

“What do you want, baby?” you ask. You reach down, beneath the waistband of his gym shorts, and grasp his hard length. Hamzah’s parted red lips elicit a whiny gasp as his large hands firmly grasp your waist. 

“I want–” he starts, barely able to string a sentence together as you begin to move your hand up and down his length. “I want to be inside you.” 

You chuckled coyly, moving your hand faster. “And what makes you think you have the right to be inside me.” Groans and gasps tumbled from Hamzah’s wet lips. His head was tilted back, a purely fucked-out expression bedazzling his beautiful face. 

“I just—,” he blissfully moaned out. “I just want to feel you.” His hands snaked up your dress, reaching up to grasp at your covered tits. His big hands connected with your sensitive nipples that were poking out through the fabric. A dirty, stupid idea shot into your head. You pull away from Hamzah, untangling yourself from his roaming hands. “W-what?” he said, confusion written all over his pretty face. 

“I don’t know,” you respond. “I’m kinda pissed at you right now. Do you know how fucking gross it is to come home to your roommate touching himself to you? Desperately jerking off, my favorite fucking pair of panties in your grimy hands. You’re a disgusting little slut, aren’t you?” Hamzah’s covered cock visibly twitched in his gym shorts. He let out a heady whimper at your vile tone and words. “Oh…” you said, a dark and naughty gleam twinkling in your eyes. “Do you like that shit? Do you like it when I call you a stupid fucking whore?” Hamzah’s hips grinded against the air, desperate for any sort of friction against his aching cock.

“I think,” you say, reaching down to pick up the pink panties you had discarded to the side, “That I don’t want a disgusting slut like you to touch me, not with those filthy fucking hands of yours.” Using the elastic of your lacy panties, you tie Hamzah’s hands together behind his back. He whimpered at your touch, the light graze of your fingers shooting electricity down his spine and into his desperate member. Once Hamzah was fully tied up, unable to move his hands to touch your body, you flung your current pair of panties off and sat back on his lap again. You reached into his pants once more, pulling his weeping cock from within his shorts. You rubbed his erection up and down your wet folds, looking down to see the soaking, wet mess you were making of his cock. You line his tip up with your hole, sliding him into your wet cunt. The stretch was unbearably pleasurable and Hamzah let out an unfiltered groan.

“Shut up,” you told him, placing your hand over his mouth. “I don’t want to hear a fucking word from you.” You began bouncing up and down on his cock, whines and moans escaping your parted lips at the fulfilling sensation deep within your cunt. Hamzah looked completely pathetic beneath you, eyes filled with desperation as he clumsily attempted to thrust up into you. You grab onto his curls, yanking as his cock hits a particularly sensitive spot deep within your cunt. Hamzah lets out another whine at the tugging sensation. Immediately, you stop your motions and slap him across the face.

“I told you to shut up,” you said roughly, voice rattling with an emotion you had never thought could possess you: dominance. And you were enjoying it. You enjoyed seeing this tall, muscular man writhe beneath your smaller body, pathetically attempting to engage and make you feel good. An idea flitted through your head. You reached down to the floor and grabbed your discarded panties. Squeezing his cheeks together in your hands, you opened up his mouth and shoved your panties in, effectively gagging him. Hamzah let out a muffled groan at the feeling of the used cloth being shoved between his lips. Hips jerking into you now at a frenzied pace. The increased speed of his cock inside you felt like heaven, and you let out a high-pitched moan, collapsing into his shoulders. You rode his cock violently, Hamzah’s pathetic face reflecting your own shining pleasure. Hamzah’s hips began to stutter, his gagged moans becoming increasingly frequent as his eyes fluttered closed, and you knew he was close. You reached down to touch your clit, hoping to reach your climax at the same time. The combined pleasure of touching your clit and the sweet stretch of Hamzah’s cock hitting that delicious spot deep inside you made your head tip back in ecstasy. Hamzah’s eyes widened and you felt his cock twitch inside of you.

“Do you want to cum, baby?” you asked sweetly, rocking your hips softly against his. He nodded his head aggressively. Your walls fluttered around his cock, and Hamzah looked in pain, nose scrunched and eyes squeezed shut. You realized, as you continued to rock your hips, that he was waiting for your permission to cum.

“Oh,” you say sweetly. “You want my permission, hmm?” You giggle softly as Hamzah tries to talk, the soft fabric in his mouth preventing him from doing so. “You can cum, baby, I want you to.” At this admission, Hamzah’s face tightens and his hips stutter and begin to shake. The feeling of his cock twitching inside you, spurting cum against your tight walls, sent you over the edge. Hamzah’s chest was heaving as he watched you writhe on top of him, your pleasure furthering his own. You let out a high-pitched whine as you come down from your high. Hamzah’s eyes were wide, glossy, and pathetic as they met your own. You pulled the pair of panties out of his mouth and he sucked in a deep breath. You slid off his length and reached behind him, untying your panties from around his wrists. He let out a sigh as his hands became free, rubbing them together to recirculate the blood flow.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, suddenly feeling a deep sense of embarrassment. “I’m sorry! That was fucking crazy! I didn’t at all mean to take it that far.”

Hamzah looked up at you, a playful smile spreading across his face. “Are you kidding me? You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to do that with you.”

“Yeah! But…like that?” you respond. “I-I mean…I slapped you. I feel like I took it too far.” You move to leave the room, embarrassment bleeding all over your face in a deep red color. Hamzah reached you in an instant, arms wrapping around your waist from behind, head resting on your shoulder. He placed a sweet kiss on your neck.

“Trust me,” he said. “That was exactly what I wanted.”

[lovelytsunoda]

the puppy bowl. | lance stroll

summary: one simply does not wear a joe burrow jersey to the puppy bowl. or, an important fact gets left out of the super bowl party invitation

pairing; lance stroll x girlfriend!reader

warnings: miscommunication, the relationship is still fairly new , kinda gets a bit frisky in like the middle-ish, lance gets wherever the dog version of baby fever is, i talk about lance's tattoo again because its one of my favorite lance related topics.

“brad said the guys are on their way, they’re just stopping to get some beer. you guys want anything?”

yn shook her head, placing a large bowl of doritos on the coffee table, next to a tray lined with soft drinks. “I’m good, you guys know I don’t drink anyways. but if you guys want something go ahead.”

“you sure? not even a coffee or anything?” ella asked, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I can send brad to tim’s. he won’t mind.”

“go on then, grab me a medium white hot chocolate. has he picked up lance? I haven’t heard from him all morning.”

by the tv, her other roommate, faith laughed. “he’s fine. james took his phone when he got in the truck. last I heard they were singing wonderwall in a liquor store parking lot.”

the girls had lived together for going on five years, an arrangement that had started back in college when they were randomly selected as roommates by the colleges matching system. they survived the three years of hell spent in student accommodations before faiths parents (who owned a property rental company) helped them pool their resources together and get the house together. somewhere along the line, this vaguely sports related party had become a tradition, with their boyfriends joining one by one, starting with brad.

“be nice to him, guys. we’ve only been going out for a few months, and I’d like him to stick around.”

elle giggled. “what, do you think we’re going to haze him?”

she paused, thinking about what had happened to james during his first puppy bowl. “something like that.”

“he’ll be fine! I’m sure he can handle james and brad. they’re harmless.” faith insisted, pulling y/n in for a hug. “I can’t wait to meet him properly.”

there was a knock at the front door that was clearly intended only as a courtesy as they could hear a key turning in the lock shortly after. brad pushed the door open, marching inside with his ball cal on backwards and a six pack of budweiser in his hand.

“who’s ready for some sports, bitches!”

“language!” elle scolded, walking around the couch to give her boyfriend a kiss. it was only a matter of time before they moved in together, but the housing market was harsh and it was more likely brad would be moving in to the rental house than elle moving out of it. “hi sexy.”

slinking in the back and helping james carry some boxes was lance. yn’s heart warmed at the sight of him. his goofy smile, fluffy hair contained in a backwards baseball cap. and was that a cincinnati bengals jersey?

“oh, sweetie, did they tell you this was a super bowl party?” she tried not to laugh as she kissed him gently. “this is a puppy bowl party. we aren’t sports people.”

a slow, horrified look spread across lances face as brad and james burst out laughing. faith rolled her eyes and smacked her boyfriend playfully in the chest, and yn did the same, reaching for a pillow on the couch.

“hey, it was brads idea!” he insisted “hurt him, not me!”

faith smiled apologetically. “I apologize for my boyfriend. hes a bit of a wanker.”

“come on,” yn insisted, tugging lance gently in the direction of the small staircase leading to the backsplit addition. “I’ve still got a few of your shirts in a drawer somewhere that if forgot to give back.”

she was acutely aware of the wolf whistling behind them, followed by a muffled apology from brad. she was also very aware that this was the first time that lance would be seeing her room.

she opened the door slowly, shyly ducking in and closing the door behind them. lance walked towards the bed, taking in the pale blue walls, the collection of postcards tacked above her desk, all the places she had been on the travels. the bookshelves lining one wall, filled with colourful spines. the double bed in the middle of the room, with it’s simple duvet and mountain of stuffed animals.

"don't mind brad and james. they can be a little overzealous when they've been drinking."

lance snickered. "i think james had already had a few by the time we got to costco. try and keep him away from the bud light if you can. get some water in him."

"so that's how you ended up singing wonderwall in the liquor store parking lot?"

she crouched in front of her dresser, opening the bottom drawer and extracting the shirt on top, a linen button down of lance's that hse had borrowed and never given back.

"you listen to frankie goes to hollywood?" lance asked, nodding towards the crates of vinyl records sitting by her desk. "i thought only people my dad's age liked them."

"funnily enough, that crate is all ones my dad didn't want any more." she laughed, tossing him the shirt. "what can i say, i'm an old soul. you've been in the car with me, you know what i listen to."

"i love your old soul." lance encouraged, tugging her closer by the belt loops. she rested her hands on his shoulders, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

"need help getting that jersey off?"

lance laughed, stretching up to kiss her. "you know i can never say no to you."

"so if i asked for oasis tickets you could make it happen?'

"do you even have to ask? i will carry you on my shoulders for the whole concert if it means i get to see your face light up when 'don't look back in anger' starts playing."

she smiled softly, kissing him again. "i love you. and it's okay if you can't say it back yet, i just want you to know how i feel."

lance kissed her again, smooth hands traveling over her thighs. "no need. i'm in love with you too. all of you. your old soul, your bright smile."

laughing, she kissed him again, harder this time, her fingers gripping and tugging at his bengals jersey. giggles got caught in clambering kisses as lance picked her up, flipping their bodies over so that he was caging her against the bed. somewhere in the movement, his baseball cap flew off, landing on the hardwood somewhere. he tugged the jersey over his head, mussing his hair and exposing his gorgeous, toned chest.

she ran her hands over his chest, and then over the tattoo on his ribcage, the delicate hebrew under her fingers.

"what does it mean? the tattoo?"

"fortune favours the bold." he said it again in hebrew, his voice soft as he caressed her face.

he leaned in to kiss her again when they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"the pre show is starting!" faith shouted "you'd better not be getting naked in there! and if you are, use a condom! i'm too young and fabulous to be an auntie!"

they paused for a moment, staring at each other before they burst out laughing.

"come on, let's head back down. you won't want to miss this, especially if you've never seen a puppy bowl before." yn beamed, slipping out from underneath lance and passing him his shirt. "stay here tonight?"

she could have sworn she saw a blush take over his pale features. "you really want me to?"

"yeah. yeah, i do."

still smiling, the went back to the living room with rosy cheeks and intertwined hands. elle and faith were sitting next to each other on the l-shaped couch, their boyfriends on their other sides. the "L" of the couch was still available, and lance was all to eager to cuddle up with his sweet girl.

"hey, man. sorry about the super bowl thing." brad said apologetically. "we did it to james too, but we meant nothing by it. you're a great guy, welcome to the group."

"thanks man." lance grinned, reaching over to give brad a fist bump.

"guys, guys!" elle shouted. "it's starting!"

"that's him, the cocker spaniel is my guy!" james yelled, jabbing his finger at a cocker spaniel named sparkles that was trotting onto the green.

yn's heart melted as she saw the puppies take their places at the start. if she had the space (or the money) she'd adopt one of the puppies herself.

"we should get a dog." lance whispered behind her.

"babe, where is the dog going to stay? we don't even live together."

"we can coparent." he insisted. "come on, look at that dachshund with the tiny legs and big eyes. is she not the cutest thing you've ever seen?"

well, lance had a point there. the doxie, named peanut, was adorable, the way she trotted across the green, trying to tug the squishy football from the mouth of a labrador three times her size.

"one day. i promise you that. but let's get through the housing crisis first." she insisted, kissing lance softly. "let's be dog parents."

her phone buzzed by her thigh where she left it on the couch, the screen lighting up with messages to the roommate group chat.

ellie: he's a keeper! such a sweetie!

faith: keep him!!! you guys are so good together <3

she smiled to herself, resting her head against lance's chest. he curled an arm around her, pressing his lips to the side of her head.

"i love you." he whispered, running a hand up and down her arm.

"love you too." she smiled, sinking into him.

"james!" faith shouted in the background. "no more beers for you! get a goddamn glass of water!"

[nyoomfruits]

For the Valentines trope: roommates to lovers, landoscar, prompt 4

Please Nyoom I’m on my knees begging your writing keeps me alive 🙏

“before you say anything about me being at home tonight, i want to remind you that you are too.”

He runs into Oscar in the hallway. Oscar’s dressed in his usual evening clothes consisting of a pair of loose sweat pant shorts and a well worn t-shirt, glasses perched on his nose and hair standing in every which direction. There’s a mug in his hand, empty, which means he’s probably on his way to the kitchen to refill it.

The kitchen Lando just came from, which is why he’s currently holding a bag of crisps and a can of coke. “Before you say anything,” Lando says, when he sees Oscar’s eyes swoop down to his slightly disheveled state and the snacks in his hands, “about me being home tonight, I want to remind you that you are too.”

“I’m always home,” Oscar says, almost on autopilot. His eyes zero in on the crisps. It’s a bag of Doritos. Nacho cheese, real brand ones, not the knock offs. Lando keeps one in the pantry for emergencies, likes to eat them when he feels down.

Oscar knows this.

“Well, now so am I,” Lando says, goes to shoulder his way past Oscar, but Oscar is too fast, grabs him by the upper arm, bring him to a halt. “What happened?” He says.

And god. Lando so doesn’t want to talk about what happened. Especially not to Oscar, who’s like. Way too sweet about everything always. In an ideal world, he’d be into Oscar instead of all these douchebags that keep breaking his heart. “It’s fine,” he says, but there’s a shake in his voice, and Oscar doesn’t let go, just keeps staring at him.

“Carlos broke up with me,” Lando eventually says, shoulders sagging. “Or well. Apparently there was nothing to break, actually. Apparently it was just a casual thing anyway. Which I wasn’t aware of, so,” he shrugs, and tries not to cry, all at the same time.

“Hm,” Oscar says, considers this for a second. “I don’t think the Doritos are going to cut it,” he eventually says, and then promptly turns and disappears into his bedroom.

Lando is too stunned and confused to really react to that, so he’s still standing in the hallway a few seconds later, when Oscar reappears with a bag of gummy words and a packet of microwave popcorn. “My personal emergency stash,” he says, when Lando just stares at them. “Now, come on,” he adds, nudging Lando in the direction of the living room. “Go pick the worst action movie you can find. I will go make us some horrible cocktails. We need booze for this.”

The cocktails really will be horrible, Lando thinks, as he makes his way into the living room in a slight daze, still clutching the bag of Doritos in his hands. Oscar’s a good cook, in general, does most of the actual cooking in their little household, as long as you can call two people living together because housing prices in the UK are off the charts really a household, but he’s terrible at making drinks.

Lando’s just settles on the newest Ryan Reynolds movie, when Oscar reappears with a tray holding the snacks and two horribly pink drinks. At least he’s stuck umbrellas in them. “What do we have that’s pink?” Lando asks, holding up his drink.

Oscar pulls a face. “You don’t want to know,” he says.

Lando hums and takes a sip. It’s so, so incredibly gross, in a way that weirdly loops back to good. “God, you suck at this,” he says, with a little cough. “It even tastes pink.”

“I did promise you they would be horrible,” Oscar says, takes a sip of his own drink and grimaces. “God, that’s fowl. Alright, what’re we watching?”

They turn on the movie, and Oscar lets Lando talk through almost the entire thing, someone his other friends always find wildly annoying but that Oscar never really seems to mind much, smiling fondly at Lando and quietly chewing on his popcorn.

When the movie is over they put on another one, and then when that ones over, and the room has gone dark, and the snacks have all been finished, Oscar turns towards Lando, tucks his feet under himself, and says, “Okay, you want to talk about it?”

Lando sighs, lets his head fall back against the couch. “Not really,” he says. “I mean, what is there to talk about? Once again I thought I had found the one and once again they only saw me as a casual fling. Tale as old as time. You know, I’m starting to think maybe I’m not meant for love. Maybe I’m just meant to die old and alone.”

“You won’t die old and alone,” Oscar immediately counters. “Come on, no. You’re a catch.”

“Really?” Lando asks, lets his head fall towards the side so he’s facing Lando. “Why is no one catching me, then?”

Oscar bites his lip. “Maybe you’ve just been looking in the wrong places.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Lando sighs. “Anyway, how’s your love life going. Now we’re on the topic.”

Oscar never talks about his love life much. Lando knows there was a girlfriend, but she left the picture long before Lando entered it, and there hasn’t been anyone since.

“Bad,” is all Oscar says.

“Aw, no, Osc, come on, you gotta give me more than that,” Lando says, poking Oscar in the knee.

Oscar shrugs. “I mean. I’m in love with someone, I guess. But uh, they’re not in love with me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Lando says. “Who wouldn’t be in love with you? You’re adorable.”

Oscar smiles a little ruefully, ducks his head. “Yeah, well. They aren’t.”

“Blegh,” Lando says, picks up his third? Fourth? Suspiciously pink drink, holds it up to Oscar in a toast. “Well, here’s to shitty love lives. Let us stick together at least, so we might die old but not alone.”

Oscar’s smiles a little sadly. “To dying old, not alone,” he says, and takes another sip. “God, fucking hell, please never let me make another cocktail ever again.”

[demonicbaby666]

i. A late night text

Feelings Are Fatal Masterlist | Masterlists | ii

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!Reader

Words: 5.4k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, fingering, oral sex, alcohol mentioned

It was a single text. 

‘What are you doing?’ 

It was nothing of significance. 

‘What are you doing?’

It painted light on your blackened phone in the dead of that Friday night. When you should have been out with friends and not rotting in bed with Netflix pulled up on your laptop and a family-sized pack of Doritos nestled at your side. The city roared with life. The hustle and bustle of busybodies dancing, shouting and singing called so desperately for your attention. The universe begged you to live for once, not for anyone else but for yourself. 

‘What are you doing?’

You knew what it meant–the true meaning behind messages sent after dusk and before dawn. They pulled uncomfortably at the muscles in the stomach, forced gooseflesh to pebble the expanse of your arms and raised the hairs on your skin to stand tall. They made you weak, ripped your resolve to shreds and forced the self-preservation you built for yourself to melt. 

Regardless of the outcome always being the same, every night, you told yourself, would be the night you’d be strong. You’d put your phone on silent, place it to the side facing down, and recommence a wild evening of trash TV in which you would think nothing of debauchery. 

‘What are you doing?’

Ten minutes. It was your max. Ten fucking minutes and the blasted, overpriced hunk of metal was in your hands as you nervously stared at the three dots that seemed to be taunting you, flickering back and forth until another grey bubble burst into light. 

‘Case is closed. I’m back home.’ 

You were better than this; you had enough respect for yourself not to do this. You didn't need to answer someone’s beck and all. 

The clattering of words typed out on your phone filled the sorrowful silence. 

‘I’m outttttttt at the mo. Gimme 20 and I’ll make my way over.’

The necessary number of Ts needed was one, but it didn't hurt to overplay the whole ‘out on a Friday night’ thing, and it wouldn’t be the first time either of you had liquor running through your systems during one of your nightcaps, even if it was a lie this time. It was a needed lie. The tattered pyjamas you wore and the mess on your head wouldn’t paint the image you wanted in JJ’s mind. Dancing amongst friends and strangers, hot and horny, that was better suited to your dynamic–which, simply put, was emotionless fucking. 

Time, it would seem, was not on your side. This was unfortunate because, even if your clothes were to end up on JJ’s floor, you still had to think through what to wear to both give the illusion you were flitting from club to club and impress JJ enough to have her distracted from the fact you were so quick to drop everything and come crawling. 

It was exhausting–the need to make her want you more than she supposedly already did, the hollowness that accompanied every late-night visit you paid her, the following mornings you spent in a taxi crying on the way home, smelling the sweetness of her perfume on whatever article of clothing you'd borrowed from her. Most painful of all was knowing she’d never feel the same. 

You needed it to stop. This needed to stop. 

She was your best friend, for Christ's sake. You were, in plain and simple terms, your best friend’s fucking booty call. Your best friend with whom you were so stupidly and utterly infatuated, it’d been a miracle you hadn’t outright admitted you loved her amid a mind-blowing orgasm—which she had given you several. 

All it would take was one text. Your fingers itched to type the words out as you stood over your unmade bed, teeth mindlessly nibbling at your bottom lip. 

‘It's over. I can’t do this anymore.’

A single finger hovered over that blue arrow. You’d only have to click send, and all of this would be over. You could go back to pretending you were JJ’s friend, that it didn’t hurt when she was away on a case and most likely sharing a bed with a far more attractive woman than yourself, because needs must and all, that it didn’t affect you that she only looked at you with such fervency when she needed an outlet for her stress and that you most certainly did not want anything more than unembellished platonic love from her. 

Your body’s need for her won out with the selection and subsequent deletion of the message.

The only dress available was one far too short for the evening air, and frantically searching for another was not an option when you were already lost in half sets of lingerie. So, you settled, even if it meant risking your legs to hypothermia. Even if it meant wearing a g-string in favour of finishing your makeup because that was the only pair of underwear you could find with a matching bra. It didn’t necessarily aid you in any way that the rightly impatient Uber driver outside was threatening to wake the whole block with a blaring horn. 

It was pathetic. You knew it. The driver knew it from the second you tumbled into the car out of breath and dressed like a hooker. Still, he was kind enough to greet you with a grunt and murmur of your name, instead choosing to silently judge you through his rearview mirror and remain silent for the duration of the drive. 

The city lights glinted defiantly against the blighting dark. You watched, mesmerised, as street lamps, neon signs, and lone candles swaying in closing restaurants bled into one. They morphed into one big blur until they were slowly replaced by the quiet stirring of TV screens and dwindling dimmed bedroom lights. 

The area housing JJ’s apartment was quiet, eerily so. Only the hum of the engine, the distant shrill of a car horn, and the crunch of tyres against asphalt as everything came to a halt could be heard through the dense silence. 

Another glare from the rearview mirror afforded you no extra time to prepare for what was to come. Your only comfort was a deep breath and a silent prayer that your emotions wouldn’t step out of line as you reached for the handle and pushed the door open. 

Blonde hair greeted you as you exited the stuffy Uber, and immediately, you were pulled into a warm embrace so tight you could smell the familiar scent of JJ’s shampoo–honey and home. You’d missed this. You’d missed her. With hands at your waist eagerly pulling you in, you lost yourself in the feel of the warm body pressed against your front. 

Occasions like these kept you coming; you were a scavenger, living off scraps. Pitiful was what it was, yet you couldn’t find the strength not to come running when JJ called. It was easy to pretend that evenings like these meant more than they did, that JJ wanted you more than just for your body, that you wouldn’t meet up with her in a couple of days for a coffee and act like none of this had happened. 

When your bodies perfectly slotted against each other outside her apartment complex, your head nestled in her neck, and her lips hovering over your cheek, it was hard to think of yourself as anything other than made for one another. They were the type of thoughts you kept under lock and key, aware but discontent that they’d always exist for you and you alone. 

You’d learnt to live that way because you knew your feelings were woven so deep into the fabric of your being that it was hard to imagine a life without them. Somehow, you knew JJ had always been there, rooted so deep in your heart, that having her infinitesimally, compared to how you wanted her, was better than not having her at all—even if it hurt, even if it turned your tears to acid as they burned your cheeks. 

“You smell nice,” you mindlessly sighed into the warmth of JJ’s neck. It couldn’t be helped. Slips always happened when she was affectionate. 

“You smell like vodka,” She chuckled. 

So what if you had a shot or three before racing down to the Uber? After all, you had a lie to sell and were nothing if not committed to the gambit. 

“Yes, well, I was out,” You muttered. 

Shaking yourself out of your love-fueled daze, you attempted, and subsequently failed, to peel yourself out of JJ’s embrace. Her hands were stellar on your waist, refusing to budge. However, you couldn’t say you minded, not when she slowly walked backwards and spun the both of you so your back was to the wall. A thin smirk lined her rosy lips, and you settled on lightly slapping her chest when she wouldn’t release you in reprimand for her earlier comment. 

“But then I got a tempting text from a certain somebody.” 

“Pray tell, what was so tempting about this text?” 

You reminded yourself why you were here and, more importantly, what you were here for. 

“It wasn’t the text itself. It was how wet I got when I realised who it was from,” you replied, running your tongue along your lip. 

“Fuck,” JJ growled, her pupils dilating. The release of your waist was quickly remedied by the grip of her hand sliding into yours and the eager jerk of her pulling you through the complex’s doors.

Unlike your own, JJ’s apartment was spacious. Despite there being a certain emptiness in the place, it had character. There was the mustard couch you’d spent many evenings eating ice cream on, binge-watching whatever JJ decided to throw on. There was the vintage coffee table you’d helped pick out and carry back from the local thrift store that had honestly seen better days now that it was marked with one too many wine stains. There were the pictures that dotted stone grey walls bright with happy memories—a couple with the team, some with just the BAU girls and the ones you most treasured, the ones with only the two of you. 

In a delicately carved rustic frame was the picture of you and JJ at Sandbridge Beach. She was buried up to the neck in sand and had on her goofy smile, the one that showed all her teeth. You stood proudly above her, plastic shovel in hand, with an equally goofy smile of your own tugging at your lips. You looked happy. 

It was packed that day, but after the three-hour drive filled with 2000s tunes and an unhealthy amount of Cheetos that JJ demanded she be fed, you weren’t about to turn back around. She was adamant about that. So you pretended that no one else was at that beach, that the people next to you weren’t rolling their eyes at your childish antics, that the water wasn’t polluted with the masses when JJ lifted you, slinging your legs around her waist and died with laughter as she dunked the both of you under cold salty shores. You were happy.

There was something so bittersweet about staring at these memories built on friendship. The reminder of what your relationship truly was tugged at your chest each time you burst through those apartment doors. Of course, you wouldn't have it the other way. Your place was no better; if anything, it was worse; in the foundations of every nook and cranny, there was a memory of your and JJ’s friendship. No, being here was more manageable. At JJ’s, you could - as you always did - leave in the morning and find solace in your empty bed, find peace in soaking your pillow with tears, relish in the shame of knowing in only a few nights, you’d do it all again in a heartbeat. 

“Tell me you weren’t out for long,” JJ groaned from behind you, hands mapping a path down your back, resting on the curve of your ass. You could feel the frustration bubbling in her chest. “Dressed like this.”

You only just about managed to say, “An hour or two,” before the blonde had you turned around, lips turning your brain to mush as she kissed you for the first time that evening. Though sudden, it was entirely welcome, and how could it not have been when she tasted so sweet? 

The first time you sampled her was five months prior. It was after you hosted a small gathering at your place, where drinks flowed freely, and laughter was heard from every corner. She stayed that evening when the place wasn’t nearly messy enough to need help. With a bin bag in her hand and conversation light on her tongue, she collected cups and wrappers, wiped surfaces down, and when there was nothing else to do, she crept up behind you and whispered all the sinful things she wanted to do to you the second she saw you in that dress. 

Garcia introduced the two of you five years before; for most of those years, you’d pined for JJ, longed for her, and loved her. It started small, like falling in love with how she looked after Garcia. Then, when the two of you began to spend more time alone, it was the way her eyes shone under low lights, the way her hair looked after it was windswept and slightly knotted. 

After that night, it was the smell she left on your pillow, the tingling she left between your legs, and the smile she plastered on your face. Then, as all things go, because happiness was not a thing you got to experience for long, life took it away. 

The following day, she was gone. The right side of your bed was empty and cold. 

You didn’t think much of that morning. Bursting through Garcia’s door, sitting on her couch and crying your eyes out wasn’t a fond memory. The blonde was kind enough not to pry, kinder to let you stay the day, then night. By the following day, you’d built your walls back up and reminded yourself that what you felt for JJ was one-sided and what she wanted from you would never be what you wanted from her. 

“I’ve missed you.” 

This. She meant this, surely. She’d missed the sex. Not you, never you. Telling yourself that was supposed to help, yet it only intensified the sting of longing caged within your chest. 

When JJ’s tongue pushed eagerly into your mouth, the small squeak that echoed in your throat morphed into a liquid moan, and you thought nothing more of her admission. If you did, with most things regarding JJ, it’d have driven you crazy. Instead, you focussed on the fingers skimming down the back of your dress, curling at its hem and delving under. Her touch was feather light at your thigh, and whilst you appreciated her being gentle any other time, now was not the time. 

You didn’t want her to treat you like a glass figurine, like you were something she could break, because she’s already broken you, and her light touches and soft kisses would never be enough to put you back together. 

No. Only crushing you over and over with an iron fist and sex-addled savagery would compensate. 

With one hand firmly placed on JJ’s shoulder, you moved the other to her questing fingers. Tearing them away from their tender endeavours, you rose them higher and higher till they were ghosting over your sex, mere millimetres away from your soaked panties. 

“Someone’s in a rush,” JJ laughed, nipping down the length of your throat. 

“Well, I assumed I wasn’t summoned here for casual banter.”

“The kitten has claws,” the blonde mumbled, continuing her descent to your neck. There, her pearly teeth nibbled at your thudding pulse point while her fingers remained vexingly still. 

“Stop talking.” 

Somewhere between dragging JJ out of the longue and into her bedroom, she had managed to unzip your dress and gift it to the corridor floor. You were equal in your endeavours, ridding her of her t-shirt, unbuckling and pulling leather through belt loops. Between all the kissing, it was an impressive yet chaotic sight. 

By the time you arrived at the foot of her bed, you both had quite the view, JJ more so. 

The look she got in her eyes was something you’d never forget. It was as though she was trying to take every part of you in at once. You were the open spread at an all-you-can-eat buffet, and she didn’t know what to begin with. That look was scorched into the back of your eyes and ingrained into every late-night fantasy. This time, however, it was shadowed by a look of something darker. 

“Were you planning on meeting someone?” she asked, taking a small step back and frowning. 

“What?” 

You looked down, admiring your lingerie set with great pride, until realisation dawned on you. Before coming to JJ’s, you were ‘out’ without knowing where you would end the night. The red lace cladding your breast and sparse over your cunt would have led anyone to believe you wanted to entertain a particular type of company, and whilst any willing participant would have no qualms with seeing you in such a set, the look in JJ’s judgemental eyes told you she was not partial to that thought. 

“That is not a night out with the girls' set of underwear.” Her eyes were back to roaming your body, only now the attention seemed more desperate. 

“Would you rather I take them off?” You tried to rid the room of tension with a sprinkle of seductive humour. Entertaining the thought she felt she had some claim over you was moronic. 

Maybe it wasn’t the answer she was looking for. Or perhaps it was. Maybe this was all a game of chess, and she would always remain two steps ahead. 

Whatever it was, you knew your part in it was a mere pawn. Your job would always be to heed and obey but put up a bit of a fight, come when called, but don’t let it be known you’re desperate, take and give pleasure, but don’t let any memories of it fester inside you and bring up feelings of true significance. 

At the latter, you’d failed - even if love blossomed in your heart years ago - but you could do the rest. 

“Or I could go put my dress back on. If the image isn’t to your liking?” You look over her shoulder into the corridor, where your dress lay in wait.

“Don’t even think about it,” she warned, voice low and gravelly, fingers pinching your chin to force your gaze back to her. 

Her eyes were two glaziers, flecks of grey pebbling her irises like raindrops on a sheet of water. Surely, you committed a heinous crime in a previous life, and this was your penance–to be tortured over and over again by your own heart, to kiss this beautiful and kind woman, have opened the depths of your soul to her, and have her see nothing but a body in which she could use to decompress and view as nothing more than a friend come morning. 

These evenings, blanketed by the cover of night and veiled under the guise of necessity, would be the most you would ever have of her. And, yes, it was selfish to take and take, trick her into believing you were using her in the same way she was using you, but your punishment came swiftly. It was delivered to you on a tray of coal the mornings after, and time and time again, you invited the sordid torment into your home with an enveloping hug and salty tears. 

Fingers dipping into your panties drew your attention away from the tempests of JJ’s eyes, and through the lump in your throat came a gasp, morphing into a moan when JJ slid down to your sex. 

“You weren’t kidding about how wet you got.” JJ tilted your head ever so slightly to the side to nibble at your earlobe, sending a single electric current running down your spine. It was joined shortly by a second when the blonde sucked her shimmering fingers to her mouth. 

“When have I ever lied to you?” You asked, somewhat winded. Except a couple of minutes ago, alongside every time I pretend not to hold you in my heart. “This is what you do to me.” At least that wasn’t a lie. 

While JJ was momentarily distracted by your admission, you took the opportunity to level your state of undress. Dropping to your knees, you tugged her trousers down and over her ankles, pressing kisses into the meat of her thighs. She showed no reservation or aversion. If anything, her fingers threading through your hair was a cue to offer her more from your auspicious position. 

And offer, you did. 

Moving her underwear to the side, you breathed in the sugared scent of her and felt saliva gather at the sides of your mouth as plain want turned to ardent need. Somehow, by some miracle, you were allowed to do this—taste the most intimate area of JJ’s body, hear her moan above you and watch the gentle push and pull of her chest grow rapid. 

Restraint was not something your nighttime companion liked to exercise, so it came as no shock when she used her sturdy grip to urge you closer. Despite her silent request for more, JJ’s head still jerked back and let out a rather loud ‘oh my god’ when you followed instructions and sucked her clit into your mouth. But her reactions had never previously bothered you, and they weren’t suddenly about to. 

You let them guide you. 

When her moans became strained and whiny, you knew to slow down. When her left knee twitched ever so slightly, you knew to move a smidge to the right. And when one of her legs hooked over your shoulder, you knew to bury as many fingers as she could take inside her and pump till her throat was raw and cum was dripping down your chin. 

“You’re too good at that,” JJ happily sighed, dropping her thigh down from your shoulder and mustering the strength to pull you to your feet. 

Happy to taste herself on your tongue, the blonde leaned forward, slotting your lips together and letting loose a contented hum. You matched her vocal bliss, growing nosier with the removal of your bra and the playful tweaking of your nipples. Her touch was addictive, and your hips pledged to reveal as much. They slaved away, trying to locate anything to grind down on, first the sticky material of your ruined panties, then, with great relief, the toned length of JJ’s thigh. 

The inner turmoil settled down, quieted by the hastening pumping of your heart. You welcomed the fall onto JJ’s bed with a mere squeak and watched enamoured as she rid herself of her bra and underwear, then moved onto the mere strip of material keeping her from seeing you fully and gloriously bare. 

You smirked at the wolfish glint in JJ’s eyes, the slight parting of her lips as she let out a shaky breath and spread your legs–an invitation to fill the vacant space with her body. 

It seemed that JJ had other plans. In one swooping move, she had you flipped on your stomach, manoeuvring your body till your cheek was pressed against crumpled sheets, ass raised high in the air, and ankles hanging off the bottom of her bed. 

“You’re perfect,” JJ breathlessly whispered, crouching down and using the pads of her thumbs to part your folds. The casualness of voicing such a thought left you dizzy. 

Why did she always have to do that? Take your breath away with words alone, and on top of that, act like it meant nothing. It meant something to you. It vexingly meant too much to you. She threw these compliments about, always sounding so sure, so firm in her belief that they were fact and not opinion. 

“JJ,” you whined, growing restless with the influx of poignant thoughts, desperate for more than her warm breath hovering over your sex. 

“Yes?” she feigned innocence, taunting you with her candied tone. 

You grit your teeth, taking a deep breath to alleviate some of the tension growing taunt in your stomach. “I swear to god if you don’t-”

Your own drawn-out cry cut you off. JJ’s tongue was back on you, only now it was consistently moving up and down the length of your pussy, occasionally circling the bundle of your nerves waiting at the apex of your sex. Even if it had only been slightly under a week since you last tumbled under bed sheets with the blonde or two days since you stuck your hand beneath pyjama bottoms and tended to your own needs, you were convinced the releasing tension burrowed deep into your bones had been gathering for not days, but months or years, waiting to be granted this kind of attention. 

Her tongue was insistent, steadfast on your clit from the moment she suckled it into her mouth like a starving baby to its mother's tit. She moved feverishly fast, then lulled her pace. The press of her tongue was harsh on you, then so light you barely felt the echo of it on your clit. Over and over, fast then slow, concrete then pillow soft until finally, she had you dribbling between whines and moans, your knuckles white with the force of your hold on bedsheets. 

The fiery inferno intensifying deep within your gut was utterly unruly. Its heat burned from your core up to your chest, down to the tips of your toes, which hung precariously off the end of the bed. Every word leaving your mouth was incomprehensible. They came out muffled, embedding themselves deep into crinkled cotton, and honestly, you were thankful. Between your senses leaving your body the moment JJ touched you and the disappearance of any inclination to keep things platonic between you, you knew what you wanted to say, or rather were trying to say, would have thrown a wrench into this delicate dynamic you both shared. 

A cry resembling JJ’s name echoed in your ears as she picked up her pace, ceasing her teasing touches and now favouring consistent flicks of her tongue. 

Abruptly, she stood up, and you would have vocalised your annoyance had it not been for what she did next. Using the full force of her body, she slotted her fingers in and out of you at what could only be deemed a brutal pace. Each thrust ended with fingertips grazing your g-spot, something the blonde never failed to hit, edging you closer to the summit of your release. 

“Touch yourself,” JJ panted from behind you, sounding almost as wrecked as you felt. 

You let out a hiss, your nipples so very sensitive as they brushed against cotton sheets in a desperate attempt to work your hand down to your clit. It was an outward struggle to maintain a repetitive pattern, the slip and slide of arousal making it impossible to work the set of nerves for any longer than a few seconds, but your efforts were not in vain. 

The flutters of pleasure rolling around in your stomach were hastening, the shuddering of your canal walls around slender fingers was intensifying, and all the while, JJ’s misshaped voice echoed in your ears, becoming more and more muffled. 

Pinpricks of light burst behind your eyelids, a fire roared in your stomach, and your hips caved to carnal need, uncontrollably rutting forward and back with the careful aid of JJ’s unoccupied hand. 

Your body was being ripped apart. Every inch of you stretched so thin that you were sure this would be when you’d break with ‘Jennifer’ on your tongue and adoration heavy in your heart. 

JJ did not let you lose yourself as you plummeted into the fiery pits of your orgasm. Her fingers, still tucked inside your twitching cunt, swept back and forth, hell-bent on prolonging the undulating pleasure coursing through your core. Her lips, pressed against your neck, moved lower to your arched spine where she lay kiss after gentle kiss. And her words, a second ago, hot and demanding, were now kind and coaxing. 

She tended to do this–piece you back together without having ever known she tore you apart, often until you were spent and your limbs immobilised. That night was no exception. You gave as good as you got, ignoring the orange and yellow hues painting the horizon outside the window and the cruel reality they brought with them. It was when you could no longer keep your eyes open that you succumbed to the pull of sleep. 

—

Most mornings, you’d wake up alone. Whilst it was a depressing reality to some to turn and find your sheets cold, it was what you’d learnt to prefer. There was, of course, merit to opening your eyes and being greeted by the luminous sight of blonde hair and copious amounts of nakedness. The sight would always be welcome, that remained undisputed. It was the urges you quarrelled with in the early hours of dawn that you had an issue with. You’d think that months of sleeping together would teach you some restraint. Alas, whenever you woke up to the sight of JJ, all you wanted to do was curl into her, wake her with soft, affectionate kisses and beg her to make you her signature chocolate chip pancakes. 

That wasn’t written into your invisible contract. What was agreed, or what you decided was non-verbally agreed, was that you’d have sex, sometimes you’d stay for the night, and in the event you did, you’d be out of her hair before she started her day, so both of you and JJ were spared from any spontaneous love declarations. 

Still, it didn’t make it any easier to remove JJ’s arms from around your waist, to quietly slip out of bed and force yourself not to look back lest you fall right back into her arms. 

There was no chance you were returning home in the clothes you’d worn the night before; comfort was always essential for your walk of shame. So, you tip-toed over to JJ’s closet and slowly pulled the doors open. No matter how gentle you were, the hinges refused to allow you a peaceful exit, sending a painful squeak out into the morning quiet. 

“Where are you going?” JJ grumbled, and you tried so fucking hard not to fall more in love with her when she did that. When she acted as though it was weird for you to leave before breakfast, like she wanted you to stay. It was helpless; when her droopy eyes locked onto yours, you felt your heart race and your stomach flutter. How could anyone look so perfect, having only just woken up? 

“I’ve got a thing,” you muttered, throwing one of her sweatshirts over your head. 

“A thing?” She gave you a cautionary look when she once again managed to catch your attention, her disbelief cutting a crease between her eyebrows. “It’s too early for a thing. Come back to bed.” 

Why did she have to do that? Force you to break your heart by denying yourself the very thing you’d yearned for since the moment you met her. 

“I’m having coffee with Pen.” 

She begrudgingly sat up and levelled you with another condescending glare, “At this time?”

“Well, you see,” you said, staring back at JJ unstirred as you pulled on a pair of stolen leggings. “I have to go home and do this thing called having a shower so I don't meet our beloved friend looking and smelling like I spent a great portion of last night between your legs.”

“But-” 

You strode over, bending at the hip to cut her off with a chaste kiss, ignoring the pull of your heart to fall back into bed and pick up where you left off last night. For a bit longer, pretend that this was a real relationship where you could kiss the woman you loved whenever and wherever you wanted. 

“I’m going now,” you mumbled over her lips, ripping away to grab your phone and walk straight out of her bedroom. 

You heard a heavy sigh, the thud of her head defeatedly falling back on a pillow as you clambered out of the apartment, heart tucked under your sleeve, tears stinging the backs of your eyes. 

Taglist: @sincerestlove @hot4milfs @chestnutninny @theoneforhobbies @lez-talk1 @obsessedwjill | Click here to be added to the series taglist

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Accidents Happen (Larissa Weems x f!Reader)

Synopsis: When you accidentally send the wrong person a text, you didn't expect something so good to come from it.

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: smut, face sitting, alcohol, masturbation, swearing

Sitting in the staff meeting was turning into torture. When you weren’t staring down at the smooth surface of the table you were doing your best not to stare at your boss. Larissa Weems; the woman of your dreams. Sometimes literally.

Her voice was washing over you and the words meant little but the cadence, the pitch, the tone, it was all making you melt. When your eyes darted up towards her, her red lips were pursed and you thought you should tune back in. She wasn’t hiding how perturbed she was.

But the way her blue eyes flashed and her body tensed only made heat flow over your skin.

Your eyes met hers, just for a moment, and you bit down on your bottom lip to keep from moaning audibly. They passed over you and it was like you could breath again. But then you were left staring at her.

Her figure hugging dress had your mouth turning dry. Her hair begged to have your fingers buried in it, messing it up. Her lipstick deserved to be smudged by your lips.

You wanted to taste every inch of her and hear her moan in your ear and make her tremble from your touch.

She dismissed you all, the rest of the staff going their own seperate ways as you fumbled with your phone. Only one person could understand your thoughts and your feelings and would listen to your rambling text message.

She looked so fucking hot today. Seriously. She has a face that was made to sit on. And that voice. It should be illegal to sound that good. I just want to hear her moan my name. Is it bad to say that when she’s angry all I can think about is sinking to my knees and submitting to her? Yeah there’s definitely something wrong with me. But today in the staff meeting she was clearly upset and all I was thinking about was helping her work out that anger. In any way she wanted. Ideally with my body. I didn’t even know what she was upset about. I can’t focus when she looks like that. I need to go have a cold shower.

You ran headlong into a warm body, hand clenching around your phone. You stumbled back, a hand grasping your arm above the elbow to keep you from falling on your ass. You looked up, finding blue eyes sparkling down at you, lips curling up into a smile.

“Sorry,” you muttered, immediately looking away from Larissa, stepping back, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

The phone in her hand dinged. You took another step back from her.

“Great meeting,” you said, “really… informative.”

“I’m glad you thought so,” she said, smiling at you.

“Anyway, I should go… do some work,” you said, “that’s what you pay me for, after all.”

She chuckled. You flushed at the sound, not quite meeting her eye. You shuffled around her, continuing your journey down the hallway. You looked down at the phone clutched in your hand. Text sent. Probably for the best. It would stop you rambling on and on about Larissa and everything you wanted to do with her. You locked the phone, cursing yourself for that fumbled conversation and your inability to think straight around her.

And missed the way she stopped in the hallway, looking down at her phone before shooting an interested look at you over her shoulder.

There was nothing like stressed students to knock Larissa from your mind. It was hard to think all the dirty thoughts you loved to indulge in when teenagers were demanding your attention. Reading half written essays and answering questions about the exam was almost as good as a cold shower.

You locked your classroom at the end of the day, desperate for a long hot bath and a good bottle of wine. The morning felt as if it happened about a million years ago rather than just a few short hours. You didn’t even care about food, happy to make do with the slightly old bag of Doritos and the block of chocolate you’d been trying really hard not to devour in one sitting.

Shutting yourself into your quarters you let out a long breath. A long day and a lot of students and you were ready to indulge in something a lot more interesting than thinking about how the quadratic equation would influence the future of a bunch of teenagers.

You sunk into the warm water of your clawfoot tub, leaning back with a soft sigh, wine bottle dangling from your fingers. Closing your eyes, you brought to mind the staff meeting earlier. Larissa, eyes flashing, lips forming words you couldn’t quite hear, long fingers gesturing as she spoke. You shifted, knees falling apart as the fingertips of your free hand began to trail over your skin.

Cupping one breast, you arched up into your own touch, imagining those painted nails on your skin. You took another swig of your wine, head tipping back. Pinching at your hardening nipple, heat began to gather between your thighs. You slowly rolled it, picturing the look on Larissa’s face if it was her touching you. Those blue eyes watching you as you arched up, lips falling open, her name a whisper on your tongue.

You took your time before you let your hand slip further down. Sliding a finger through your folds, you gathered your wetness on your fingertip before you began to circle your clit. It was so easy to imagine her, hovering above you, those perceptive eyes taking in every single stutter in your breathing. You moaned, finger pressing to your entrance.

A loud knocking rung through your quarters. The bottle of wine in your fingers slipped, barely able to catch it before it smashed against white the bathroom tiles. You sat up so suddenly some of the water sloshed over the side. You waited a moment.

The knock came again.

You sighed, standing from the bath, the throbbing between your legs growing duller but no more insistent. You slung your robe on, checking in the mirror to make sure you weren’t showing anything you shouldn’t to a visitor. Happy everything was covered, the bottle of wine still dangling between fingers, you pulled open your door.

“Oh.”

Larissa was standing on the other side of the door, an odd look in her eye. The smile was gone, and you had to fight against the impulse to step further away from her.

“You weren’t at dinner,” she said, forgoing a proper greeting.

“I wasn’t,” you agreed, “was I meant to be?”

“I was hoping to talk to you,” she said.

“Oh.” You didn’t have an appropriate answer, “about what?”

“About how I have a face that was made to be sat on.”

You froze, ice filling your veins and your blood draining from your face.

“What?” Your voice didn’t sound like your own, like it was coming from miles away.

“Also about how you plan on having me moan your name,” she said.

“I don’t…”

“And given you’ve made me think about this all day, I think it’s more than fair that you let me take this frustration out on you,” she said, “with your body.”

All you could do was stare at her. Her eye flicked down your body then back up to your face. There was a very intense throb between your legs at the look she was giving you.

“Or was this text not meant for my eyes?”

She held up her phone, showing you the long rambling text you thought you’d sent to your friend after the meeting. The ice melted into flames on your cheeks and your eyes widened.

“You weren’t meant to see that,” you said, fingers pressing to your lips.

“Perhaps I should come in,” she suggested, voice softening.

“You really don’t have to. In fact, why don’t you forget about it? Just delete the message and pretend this never happened,” you said, tripping over your words.

“I’d much rather talk about it.”

“Of course you would,” you muttered, holding the door open wider.

She stepped past you, brushing against your arm. You shivered, taking a deep breath before turning into the room. She was looking at one of the framed pictures you had on display, something from your time at college.

“You haven’t changed at all,” she said, flashing a smile over her shoulder at you.

“I’ve changed a bit,” you said, doing your best to keep calm. Even if your shame was plastered all over her phone.

She placed it down, turning with her hands clasped in front of her body. You weren’t sure how to talk about the text. The mix up. The way you’d tear her clothes off immediately if she just asked you to.

“I must say, that text was rather a surprise,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” you said, “it was completely unprofessional and I should never have sent it. Even if it wasn’t meant for you. And I totally understand if you need to take disciplinary actions. It’s sexual harassment at the least.”

“Do you want me to take disciplinary action?” she asked, eyebrows drawing together.

“…No?”

“I don’t want to do that either,” she said, face relaxing once again.

“Oh. Well. Good,” you said, not sure what to do with your hands, “and I’m sorry again.”

“It does place me in an odd position,” she said, “after all, when I thought this attraction was one sided I never thought I’d have to have this discussion.”

“What?” Her words weren’t making sense.

“Well, a one sided infatuation between a boss and their employee is only an issue if I try to coerce you into something you don’t want and doesn’t need anything done about it. But now we need to figure out what we’re going to do,” she said, eyes wandering down your body, “because I’ve spent all day picturing you sitting on my face and I’m determined to make that happen.”

You exhaled, a curse passing over your lips. Her eyes darkened.

“So what are we going to do?” she asked, voice turning husky.

“I’m going to sit on your face,” you replied, breathless and yearning for her touch.

“I was hoping you were going to say that.”

Her fingers found yours, plucking the bottle of wine from you, placing it down on your sideboard. She was close enough for you to smell her perfume, clinging to her like you hoped it would cling to you. You tilted your head up, watching her as she let herself gaze at you, lingering where your robe was tied closed.

Her hands cupped your cheeks, skin warm against yours. She hovered, just a moment longer, stretching out your anticipation. The first press of her lips was like heaven. The second was transcendent. The third had you gasping, burning for more.

Her hands trailed down your body as her tongue licked into your mouth. You made a keening noise, your own hands finally finding a place on her body, grasping her hips as if they were your lifeline. She wrapped you in her arms, body pressing to yours, making your head spin. She kissed you deeper, mapping your mouth as your muffled moans filled the room.

Her fingers found the tie of your robe, slowly tugging on it until it came free. She stepped back from you, lipstick smudged and eyes dark. They swept down your body, parting your robe, gently pushing it from your shoulders.

An impulse to cover your body with your arms sprung up, standing there under her wandering gaze. She caught your arms, fingers curling around your wrists as her eyes swept over you.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, “entirely too delectable.”

You felt your cheeks heat as she continued to stare at you.

“Let me taste you, darling.”

You weren’t going to deny that request. She lifted you, so easily, in her arms, encouraging you to wrap your legs around her waist. You kissed her that time, needing to feel more, to taste her yourself. Her hands were on your skin and she was kissing you deeply and all you wanted was to give her anything she asked for.

She lowered you onto your bed, slow and careful, crawling over your body. Her lips trailed down your throat, teeth scraping against skin. You arched up and she chuckled, low in her throat and muffled against your body.

“Don’t worry, darling,” she said, those blue eyes finding yours again, “I’ll take care of you.”

Her lips wrapped around one nipple and it was so much better than your imagination had been able to come up with. The throbbing between your legs, not having quite dimmed since she’d interrupted your night, was becoming more insistent. The way she sucked had you gasping her name, fingers burying in her hair, uncaring of the pins within it. Her tongue flicked over the hard bud.

“Fuck,” you groaned, tightening your hold on her.

Her fingers skimming over your stomach, your muscles tightening beneath her touch. She kissed across your chest, giving the same attention to the other breast as her finger dipped into your heat. It ran through your folds, making your hips buck up, seeking out her touch. She sat back, looking down at you as she did it again, lips curling up in a smile. Your hands had fallen to her thighs, fingers digging in as you held on, her skirt rucked up.

“All this for me?” she asked.

She withdrew her finger, looking down at the wetness gathered on her fingertip. After considering it a moment, she drew it into her mouth. Your mouth fell open, watching her suck on her finger, tasting your arousal, eyes falling shut.

“You taste so good, my darling,” she purred, blinking her eyes open.

She climbed off you, ignoring your small whine. She repositioned herself on the bed, her head resting on your pillow. Crooking a finger at you, she lay back, waiting for you to join her. You straddled her waist, looking down on her.

You lent down, kissing her, hoping to convey exactly how much you wanted her. How much you’d always wanted her. She hummed into your mouth, hands running down your back until they landed on your hips.

“I want to keep tasting you,” she murmured against your lips, tugging on your hips.

You allowed her to guide you up her body but hesitated as you reached her face.

“Please, darling.”

You looked down into her blue eyes, finding them blown wide as she stared up your body.

“I don’t want to smother you,” you said, voice quiet.

“You won’t,” she replied instantly, “and if it feels like you might I’ll tap your leg three times, just like this.”

She tapped your thigh with her fingers. You nodded, slowly lowering yourself onto her face. Her hands wrapped around your thighs, pulling you down more firmly. You settled, hands finding purchase on your headboard.

Her tongue ran through your folds and your head fell back, a moan falling from your lips. She did it again, this time humming as she did so. The vibration wracked through your body, your hips rutting against her. Her fingers dug in, nose nudging against your clit.

“Fuck, Rissa,” you groaned, fingers tightening on the headboard.

You’d already been worked up before she’d interrupted, your own hand doing a good enough job. This was so much better. It paled in comparison. Fire was licking through your veins, and she was feasting on you like you were feeding a starving woman. Your hips were rocking against her as her tongue dove into you, driving you higher and higher.

You were beyond caring if you were too heavy or were suffocating her. She was moaning into your cunt, clit between her lips, tongue running over you. Her name was a prayer on your lips and desperation was your closest companion. She was so good at it. A master of your body.

The coil within you was tightening, the wave threatening to crest over you. But she was taking her time, exploring every inch of you. You looked down, finding her eyes trained on you. She gave a sharp suck to your bundle of nerves, eyes smouldering at your breathless curse. Hazily, you thought maybe she was paying close attention to every single response you had to her.

She loosened her hold on your hips, allowing you to begin to rock against her face again. But by that point she’d turned teasing, slowing down, never quite touching you how you wanted. You groaned her name, looking down at her, trying to seem scolding. Just as you did, her tongue thrust into you, fucking you like you’d been hoping she would.

You moaned, rocking your hips faster as her tongue drove into you. Her fingers were digging into your thighs hard enough to leave bruises and you were beginning to feel light headed. You ground down, almost chanting her name, doing anything you could to chase your pleasure. She moaned again and your orgasm crashed over you. Tensing above her, fingers aching from how tightly you were holding onto the headboard, a soundless scream came from between parted lips.

Her hold on you softened, kitten licks cleaning you up. You shuddered, oversensitive and still twitching. You pried your fingers from the headboard, looking down at her. She was watching you, eyes crinkled from smiling. You lifted yourself from her face, heating from the glistening arousal on her skin.

You fell to the bed beside her, boneless and satisfied. Her arm curled around your waist, pulling you to her body. The other hand came up, wiping at her face, seemingly amused at what she found. Reaching up, you turned her face towards you, kissing her until you could taste yourself on her tongue.

“Well, darling?” she asked.

“Well what?” you asked.

“Was my face made to be sat on?” she asked.

“Definitely,” you hummed, kissing her again.

She was slow to pull back, indulging in the kiss for a long minutes. When she did, you whimpered, trying to kiss her again. She chuckled, ducking past your lips, standing from the bed.

“Where are you going?” you asked, watching her walk towards your bathroom, still fully clothed, hair rumpled and makeup smeared.

“Did I interrupt your bath?” She turned in the doorway to look at you.

“Yeah,” you replied.

“The water’s cold now but we could finish that bottle of wine in a new one,” she suggested.

“Yes.”

You climbed off the bed, rushing over to her on shaking legs. She caught you, looking down at you with such fondness. She tucked your hair behind your ear, bending down to kiss you again. You sighed into her mouth, pressing against her as the chill of the air began to pluck at your skin.

“Bath time,” she muttered against your mouth, pulling back.

“Bath time,” you agreed.

You definitely got to hear her moan your name.

[mrs-starkgaryen]

Meet me at the Corner (Shop) teaser

Modern! Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Teaser 2, Teaser 3

✍️ (My other writings) ✍️

You keep meeting a certain silver-haired man at the local corner shop and whilst you only came in for a snack, you leave with a whole lot more.

Warnings: Will post more with the whole ones-shot later, but for now- Rude Aegon, British corner shop life, missing punctuation and grammar, probably

A/N: This is my first fanfic. I don't know why I wrote this, I just wanted to get me started. THERE IS MORE TO COME TO THIS ONE-SHOT IF PEOPLE LIKE IT (or even if they don't)!

I just love my man, Aegon, and you know what they say- if there isn't a fanfic you want, write it yourself so tada!

Please like, reblog and leave constructive comments (or any) :D

The bell dinged when I pushed open the heavy door, announcing my entrance to the shop’s inhabitants. I hated the thing. I’d rather slink in, grab what I want and leave, like a snake slithering in the long blades of grass, pouncing on its prey and disappearing. But now, I had to endure walking around the shop as the only cashier available had his eyes fixed on my movements.

He was an older man, probably mid-fifties, greying hair and even though he was always behind the till, he had a noticeable belly, like a balloon shoved underneath his shirt. There is nothing outwardly wrong with him but he always makes me feel uncomfortable, from how he would watch me wonder or judge me for what I buy. The latter probably wasn’t true and the former… well the former was probably him watching for shoplifters- which I don’t blame him for. Corner shops were prime targets for theft.

As the embarrassment of the bell’s acknowledgment evaporated, I make myself look up begrudgingly to him, to acknowledge my arrival with a nod or a smile. But upon looking at the man behind the till, instead of the sides of my mouth lifting upwards, they went down. For in the place of the typical man, was a much younger one. He had scruffy hair in the shade of ice dripping down his head and sported snow-sprinkled stubble which he was scratching absent-mindedly as he scrolled on his phone.

He was leaning over the counter as I made my way past the magazine section next to the door but he must have been too engrossed in whatever was on his screen for he didn’t once look up at me. I was grateful for it but it was odd, coming into a corner shop and not being watched. With this new revelation in mind, I made my way around the aisles, looking for the items that I came in for: cookies, a Cadbury bar, a bag of Doritos, a can of Monster and a milkshake. I was planning on watching the new season of my favourite TV series in its entirety tonight and I was planning on having a good time. I navigated the thin aisles, trying not to bump into the products that hung off the shelves, adding the necessary items to the growing pile in my arms.

Trying to balance the unknown brand of cookies on top, I position myself to hold the items better with this new addition. However, the packet falls to the floor with a crunch and I wince at the sound interrupting the silence of the shop. Heat blooms in my cheeks as I peer over the pile of food to the cookies on the ground before tentatively turning my eyes to the man behind the till to see if he noticed. Oh man, oh man. He is going to think I’m a pig who can’t resist all these snacks

Fortunately, the man was still flicking through his phone and not paying attention to the happenings of the shop that he oversaw. A brief idea of me just walking out with the items flashed through my mind but I banished it away, heading my way towards the cashier. I stood in front of him, waiting for him to notice that he had a customer.

But the white-haired man seemed intent on pretending he was not here, and that was something we had in common. I started to wish the creepy older man was back. At least he was aware of the people in the shop. My arms were beginning to ache, so I had to break the silence we both were unwillingly in; I let out a small cough.

His eyes flick up from the screen and land on me. He rolls his eyes and slowly puts his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. He wasn’t wearing uniform, but instead a short-sleeved checkered shirt that was open to reveal a t-shirt with a quote on, underneath. I tried to get a glimpse but after reading the top three words, ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he moved to cross his arms, blocking the rest of the words. He waited for me to put my items on the till.

Noticing his disgruntled face, I smile shyly as I empty my arms. “Hi. Just these please.”

He grabs the items and starts to scan. Beep, beep, beep. I stand there, swaying on the soles of my feet as I waited. He places the stuff in a blue-lined bag and places it in front of me. Then we go back to the silence, staring at each other. Why is he staring at me? My eyes start to look around, trying to avoid his intense gaze, especially as his eyes are a weird colour, like an amethyst cracked open, gems being disrupted from their rocky slumber.

Nervously, I flicker back to his shirt. ‘Sorry I’m late- my alarm didn’t go off. Because I didn’t turn it on. Because I didn’t want to be here.’ A puff of unwanted laughter escapes my mouth; the shirt is appropriate for the man in front of me. Who was still staring at me.

Maybe he was waiting for me to say something. I open my mouth, “So how- “

“Do you want the cookies or not?”

“Huh?”

He nods towards the pack that I dropped on the floor earlier, the ones that I forgot to pick up. “Oh,” I rush back to grab them and plonk them on the till, smiling, “Yes please, wouldn’t be a movie night without them.”

The man doesn’t say anything to attest if that was true but scanned the biscuits and shoved them into the bag with the rest. Not talkative, I see.

“£5.48.”

I nod, pulling out my purse, searching for the change. 25p, 32p, 46p. Oh for the love of- the one time you need to be drowning in copper coins-

Realising that I am delaying this man returning to his favourite pastime, I start to panic. “Sorry” I say.

Oh, he isn’t going to like me. I need 2p, where is it? I finally find one stuck in the crevices of my purse, I pull it out. Huzzah! I happily extend my clenched fist over his, “I knew I had it.”

I drop the money and wait for him to count it. He nods and hands the bag over to me, before pulling his phone back out. I take it business was done.

I shuffle on my feet, eager to patch up the bad taste I must have left in his mouth, “Thank you!”

He doesn’t respond, I fidget with the plastic straps, “Sorry about the wait,” I realise he still hasn’t moved from watching his phone. Well, okay then… I head for the door, tugging it open with my free hand. Before I exit into the cold night, I look back but he’s still not looking, I stretch out one more olive branch, “Have a good night.”

He was as stoic as ever. I huff and let the door close between us. As I trudge home, I ponder about the weird man and for once, I start to hope that I’ll see the old one the next time I go into The Hightower corner shop.

More to come (only a few thousand words left)

[scaredycatqlt]

Some silly platonic headcanons of bill cipher x reader pls?

Oh hell yeah!!! I love my lil AroAce triangle >:3

Bill Cipher X Reader [PLATONIC!]

Alright, well, for starters, how you became friends could vary.

Either you’re some messed up otherworldly creature with a thirst for chaos and destruction like him, or some unsuspecting human. Or maybe you knew what you were doing? Who knows! Bill knows.

Regardless, at first he doesn’t pay you much mind. You’re simply another pawn on the chessboard to him.

He can get bored easy, so he hangs out around you a lot. Not for long, mainly frequent short visits.

He finds you amusing, you and your antics! If you’re a dimensional thing like him, he’s quick to invite you to join him in wrecking havoc. If you’re a human, he’s more still in the ‘I’m better lol’ mindset.

When you guys are finally friends, he will try to convince you to let him possess you. Not all the time! And very infrequently! Come on, won’t you help a pal out?

His love language (PLATONICALLY) is acts of service and gift giving. He’s not an emotional being by any means at all, so this is how he expresses his care for you.

As canonically presented, his gifts are kinda…..messed up.

deer teeth, a eternal screaming head, weird shit in general.

Also with acts of service he totally offers to take care of anything bothering you. Someone annoyed you? He can get rid of them! Don’t you worry your fuzzy little head!

A litttlleeee bit of a platonic yandere but who here’s surprised….

He does a lot of small things for you that you might not notice. Like picking something up, summoning an object, giving you whatever small thing you happen to want at that time, yeah.

If something happened to you he’d probably go crazy ngl.

You’re like his partner in crime!

Also, if you’re human he makes sure you’re taking care of your meat-suit properly.

Have you drank water? Eaten? Slept? Done all the human things?

One last thing, I feel like Bill would love Doritos. I know this kinda doesn’t match the theme, but there used to be this whole ‘Bill hates Doritos they’re his species :(‘ kinda thing and while it is funny, personally I disagree. I think he’d find it hilarious, and probably eat them specifically because they look like him. He’s a little creacher.

Here they are!! Again, sorry it took forever. I’ve been busy with school n shit, but I’m working on these requests one by one.

[calware]

post about me. i added pictures to keep it interesting

i've had a problem for most of my life that i'm currently visualizing as a gray dorito poking into me. it's frustrating, inconvenient, difficult to deal with, and overall makes everything suck a little. many people have told me that this problem is most likely adhd, such as my therapist in high school who said it was "textbook." unfortunately, she was just a therapist, not a psychiatrist, and therefore wasn't actually qualified to diagnose me with anything. this was in 2021 when there were no child psychiatrists in my area accepting new patients (thanks, covid), so instead my doctor gave me a few adhd meds at differing doses to see if any of them stuck (i had literally no reaction to Any of them) and the whole thing went nowhere

so, is the problem actually adhd? i'm an adult now and could pay several hundred dollars (of my parent's money) to get a proper test, but it would make no difference as my issues would not be solved by adhd medication (maybe. i'm worried i somehow messed it up) or any form of accommodations. i don't want to ask my parents to pay for something that likely won't have much impact (and my mom wouldn't be fully convinced anyway. both parents are pretty sure there's nothing wrong with me). i want to know, but the time and money don't justify it. so the best solution i have is to keep going, keep learning which lifestyle changes to make and how to "work smarter". i'll be okay. and i say that with sincerity

whoops, forgot my glasses here. this is another gray dorito-shaped problem, only this one is much smaller. i rarely notice it, and when i do, it's superficial. it's only gotten genuinely bad twice in my life. it's my paranoia, obsessiveness, and, on occasion, compulsions that follow those obsessions. now, i know what you're thinking, which is that it kind of sounds like Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. frankly, from my understanding, my issue is so negligible that it doesn't qualify as OCD. like i said, it barely affects me. it still bothers me that it's there, though. i do my best to deal with it, letting my thoughts pass as they come to me and not trying not to give into/breaking out of compulsions, but i just don't want it there at all

this is another thing i could see a therapist about, but does a problem this small really justify the time and expenses of seeing a professional? not in my case (not for me, at least. don't apply this to your own problems if you genuinely want to seek professional help)

i have a goal to have enough disposable income later in life to justify paying a scientist to pick through my brain for my own amusement. because, despite no substantial foreseeable improvements to my mental health after getting a psych evaluation, i still find the idea to be really exciting. i have a strong desire to understand how my mind works, how my brain ticks, why i am the person i am. that's how i know that if i ever played sburb, id have the heart aspect (that's right. you thought that this was just a personal post on my homestuck blog that had nothing to do with homestuck. do you really think i would do that? make off-topic posts solely about me on a homestuck blog? look, i even remembered to draw my glasses this time and i made them homestuck glasses. because i care about you guys) and i am vain and self-centered enough to desperately want someone with a phd to talk about me for an hour. and no, i don't need a therapist to tell me why that is, i already figured that one out allllll on my own

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Drabble-A-Thon Prompt #17

Pairing: ShigaDabi

Rating: Teen

Prompt: Prompted by @zehei. Omega!Dabi who doesn’t know he’s an omega

Contents: ABO, Alpha!Shigaraki, Omega!Dabi, Pre-heat. 

Dabi is so focused on looking at the blueprints of the summer camp, his mind reeling from the fact that he’s going up against his brother so soon, that he barely hears Shigaraki when he says, 

“Dabi will be the squad leader for this job, unless he’s not around. Then Compress will take point.” 

It takes him almost a minute before he looks up, frowning, “Why the fuck wouldn’t I be around?” He can barely be pleased that he is being put in charge after their rocky start, because now he’s wondering if he’s going to be murdered in the next few weeks. 

Shigaraki hesitates for a second. “This job is in two months.” 

“Yeah?”

“You’ve already been here for one.” He says it slowly like Dabi is a child who can’t do basic math. 

“Yeah, what? Do I have a three month lease that I don’t know about?” His own tone starting to turn irritated. 

Duster looks almost… embarrassed, but he takes a breath and then says, as bluntly as anything else, “Your heat should hit around then.”

“What?” 

“Dabi–” 

“What the fuck are you talking about, Shigaraki? I’m not an omega.” 

The entire room is dead silent for a long minute. 

“...Yes you are.” Shig says slowly. “And that’s fine, your designation doesn’t change my opinion of your ability to lead.” 

“Very progressive, incredibly stupid though because I’m not an omega. I’m a beta.” 

“No you’re not.” Shigaraki is looking at him like he’s grown another head, and none of the others seem to want to step in. “You’re an omega. Dabi, I’m an alpha, I can smell it on you.” 

Yeah, no big surprise that Shigaraki is an alpha. He wears scent patches all the time because it’s just a safer thing to do as a villain who might not want to be tracked down– Compress wears them constantly too– but he always has just had the vibes of an alpha. 

“Hate to tell you this, boss, but I think all of the energy drinks and Dorito fumes have killed your nose because my scent glands don’t even work anymore.” Except for the ones on his thighs, all of the others are so covered in scar tissue that he never smells like anything, and he knows that Shigaraki’s head has absolutely not been between his thighs and trying to find his natural scent through the smell of his quirk. “I’m a beta, and unless we’re about to have another go without your keeper breaking us up, I’ll still be here for the summer camp job– though if we do, I guess you won’t be.” 

Shigaraki opens his mouth, looking for a second like he wants to argue, but then he closes it, his nails scratching at the patch over his neck and shifts conversation back to the briefing. 

///

Dabi thinks that the questions about his designation are done after that, and he goes right back to what he was doing. He’s just not expecting Shigaraki to change so completely afterward. Typically, and he’s not sure if this is at AFO’s behest or not, Duster only comes and sees them when he has work to do. He doesn’t just hang out in the bar with the rest of them shooting the shit. He doesn’t sit on one of Toga’s beanbag chairs in her room as she talks for hours about whatever she’s into this week because she’s fifteen and they have to give her enrichment and socialization or it could fuck up her development more than it already is as her designation is still coming into being. He doesn’t socialize, he leads. But after that meeting, Shigaraki starts to seek him out more.

“Here,” Dabi blinks as he looks up from the crate he’s been using as a desk. He’d left his door open because they don’t have air conditioning in the upper floor of the bar, and the crossbreeze from his window was the only thing keeping him from getting heat stroke inside on a temperate day because of his quirk and inability to properly regulate his. Shig has brought him a small bag of takeout containers and he finds an empty spot to set them. 

“Uh, thanks. Did someone order?” 

“No, I had a meeting out of the building, and you’ve been working hard on this job. I just thought it would be a nice way to show you how much I appreciate it.” 

“O…kay, thanks.” It’s so out of left field that Dabi doesn’t really know what else to say, but Duster doesn’t make him, leaving to let him eat instead. 

///

Shigaraki bringing him food becomes such a standard thing over the next two weeks that he kind of starts to get used to it, that he perks up when he hears him coming towards his room after a long day of working, or when he sees him waiting in the bar when he comes back from trying to recruit people. It’s kind of been nice. And one day, when he knows that Duster is going to be back obscenely late because of a meeting he’s supposed to be having with his teacher, Dabi decides to return the favor. 

It’s been a while since he cooked for anyone, but by the time the mapo tofu is finished, plated, and has a little sticky note on the bowl to tell Shig it’s for him, Dabi feels strangely content for the first time in… fuck, years maybe. 

So he starts doing it whenever he knows Duster is going to be out of the building until late at night. 

///

About a week later, Shigaraki comes to his door again, knocking against the frame because it’s open again because Dabi is too hot again despite trying to give himself hypothermia in the shower for an hour. 

“Hey,” 

“What’s up?” He’s about to flop into bed, and turns to find Shigaraki holding a folded bundle of fabric. 

“Got you something to help with the heat.” He says, lifting a neatly folded bundle of fabric as he crosses the room to hand it off. “It’s a cooling blanket, it’s supposed to help pull the heat from your body.” 

“Oh, thanks. Guess this means we’re not getting air conditioning here anytime soon?” Dabi takes the bundle, and immediately notes the strange texture on one side that reminds him of a bathing suit, the other a thin cotton. But the blanket is cool to the touch, and he’s willing to try anything at this point. 

“No, but after the summer camp job we’ll be moving bases and things will be better there.” 

Dabi opens up the blanket to spread it out over his bed, and gets an overwhelming scent that he can’t place. It’s almost more of a feeling than a smell as it hits his nose. Something warm, comforting, and cozy, like drinking a hot chai latte on a cool rainy day. He barely resists the urge to pick it up and shove his nose into it. 

“I washed it, after unpacking it– it reeked like packaging. But when you wash it next make sure that you don’t put it in the dryer. The clothes line is off of the fire escape attached to my room if you want me to hang it up for you.” 

“Okay, thanks, Shig.” 

He’s glad that the other man goes after that, and is even happier that the blanket works phenomenally well, because as soon as he’s gone, Dabi shuts his door so he can curl up with the fabric close, practically purring from how nice it smells and feels.

///

It’s been a couple more days before Twice comes in and shows his skills as a handyman as he puts in brand new locks on his and Toga’s doors.

“Why?” 

“Apparently,” Shigaraki says with no small amount of derision, “Mustard tried to sneak into her room to take some of her things. She caught and dealt with him, but I don’t want that happening again. This is your space, and you two should feel safe in it.” 

Which, huh, okay. That’s nice too. Shigaraki is a lot different than he thought he was at the start. He’s really not so bad now, and Dabi is starting to think he might be the only alpha he’s ever met who actually lives up to the standards that they pretend to preach. 

He likes that he has a lock on his door that night so he can strip down to his boxers and curl up in that good-smelling blanket as he goes to sleep. 

///

It’s only two days after that, that they’re having a check-in about the job, Shigaraki sitting on another crate that they dragged into his room since Dabi decided buying furniture wasn’t worth it since they’ll be out of here in a month. It’s pretty late, and he’s already yawning, and whatever caffeine was in Shig’s system must be wearing off, because he doesn’t seem irritated with the work they’re doing, but he’s scratching at his neck almost constantly as the scent patch over his gland must start to flake against his skin from being worn all day. 

“It looks like you’re on the right track,” Shig finally says after another ten minutes, and Dabi is almost disappointed, he was pretty certain that he was going to get to see him claw through his own skin with how annoyed he is from the patch. “I think we can pick this up tomorrow.” 

“Sounds good.” Dabi stretches as Shigaraki starts to move towards the door, finally giving up on the scent patch and pulling it away from his skin, and dusting it. 

The pain that goes through Dabi’s pelvis seems to hit him faster than the alpha’s scent can as it fills his nose. He has been in a lot of different kinds of pain in his life, but he’s never felt himself double over so suddenly with abdominal cramps as a wetness starts to spread across his skin. For a second Dabi thinks that he must be bleeding, that something must have just fucking exploded inside of him and that he’s going to die far too soon, but he doesn’t smell blood. No, he smells that chai and rain smell of his blanket only so much stronger, and an overwhelming, dizzying aroma of burnt sugar. A too-sweet smell that can’t be candy, that has to be slick. 

Dabi whines as he feels more of that fluid leak out of him, the pain becoming less intense as a heat starts to build under his skin that has nothing to do with his quirk. 

When Shigaraki moves back over to him, carefully cupping his cheeks in his hands and making him look up, his scent concerned and comforting all at once, he can’t help the soft whimper he lets out as his arousal builds even higher. Alpha, his alpha, bringing him food, blankets, making sure he’s safe, comforting him when he’s hurting–

“You’re a fucking bastard,” Dabi hisses, glad that he’s not sobbing as glands he didn’t even know he had are waking up and making him leak. 

“You’re an omega.” He reiterates smugly. “And you’ll be able to go on the summer camp job now.” 

“I hate you.” 

“I know. I have some more blankets for your nest and heat supplies in my room. I’m going to go get them, when I come back, I can help get you settled and go, and you can lock your door so no one else can bother you. Or I can stay and help take care of you through your first heat.” 

Dabi wants to be stubborn about this. He didn’t even know that he was an omega, he really doesn’t want to end up pregnant after being fucked by his boss. But he’s… never had sex. Never had time, never really wanted to because, he’s now realizing, his omega body was in such survival mode that his libido was completely destroyed. But the thought of getting to try it now, with the alpha who made sure that he was getting better, who will be able to give him a knot that will hopefully make the pain inside of him ebb, is very, very appealing. 

“Go get whatever you bought. I’ll decide if I’m kicking you out and kicking your ass once my heat is over by the time you get back.” 

“Okay, firefly.” Shig doesn’t argue, he just looks a little amused, and he lets go of him and turns to leave. 

He’s only gone for a couple of minutes, returning with a large shipping box that is saturated in his smell, and as soon as he sees the roll of condoms on top, Dabi stops giving a fuck about anything else. He wants a nest, a knot, and his alpha doting on him throughout his heat. He can kick his ass for being a smug bastard about it when it’s over. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it, consider leaving a comment or ask!

[gadriezmannsgirl]

Sister's Best Friend -P.G

I have been dreaming a lot of doing Latina!Reader, I am a bit afraid tho, because I don't know if you guys will like this. I made this with a Venezuelan!Reader in mind, since there aren't a lot of fics of venezuelans!reader, I always see mexican, argentinian, colombian, brazilian (american and european as well) and I wanted to give this a try.

It isn't too much tho, I just put reader a nationality and played with her accent, maybe in the future go in deeper with Gavi's reaction of having a Latina girlfriend. Hope you guys like it! I would appreciate if you leave some feedback!

This is a bit shitty

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Summary: You're Aurora's best friend and Gavi is crazy for you

It all had started when Aurora invited you over at her house for a college project. It wasn't the first time Aurora invited you over. But it was the first time Gavi was around.

Gavi was crazy to meet you mostly because nine out of ten times, his sister and parents were talking about you and stories the fourth of you had shared. Gavi's not gonna lie, he felt desplazed for a bit.

You having inside jokes with his family, made him want to get to know you and see what's the fuss about. He was confused, he knew and get along with all of his sister's friends. You must have been someone knew.

And you were.

Aurora confirmed his suspicion when he suddenly asked who you were.

"She's the new girl on college I talked about" She replied "Se nota que me escuchas cuando hablo" (It shows you do listen to me when I speak) Aurora complained

"Ajá... ¿Y?" Gavi rolled his eyes a bit ignoring his sister statement "¿Qué más?"

"She's new here, in general. She comes from Venezuela, moved in ten months ago, she has been my friend ever since I met her, she's so cool, Pablito. You'll like her"

"Yeah? Sure" Gavi raised his eyebrows and walked away

And that's how we came into the meeting day. You were laughing with Belén, Aurora's mother about a funny anecdote it happened to you while younger back home.

"Y naguará, no" You covered your face with your hands while Aurora and her mom laughed "I can't..." You were blushing of embarassement a bit when you heard footsteps

"Mamá, que-" Gavi had came in, just in a Barcelona shorts and a white shirt, his phone in his hand as he stared at you with wide eyes

You shut your mouth, looking at the boy as well with a light smile on, meanwhile his face was covered with a frown

"Hi" You had said shyly waving and Gavi swore he had never heard something more angelic than your voice

"Pablito!" Aurora exclaimed coming over to you and hug you "She's Y/N Y/L/N. My new best friend!" She squeezed you making you smile and hug her back "Y/N/N, this is my lil bro, Pablo"

"Un placer" You said extending your hand to him

He quickly got a hold of himself, grabbing your hand and stepping forward to give you two kisses on each cheek, his other hand rested lightly on your waist

"Igualmente" (Likewise) He had said with a smirk "Aurora doesn't stop talking about you, I'm happy I finally got to met the amazing Y/N" You blushed

"Thank you. I can say the same thing, you know... I think I already knew you before meeting you" He laughed

"Sólo le dije como te orinaste los pantalones en tercer grado" (I just told her how you peed your pants in third grade)

"Sabemos que jamás hice tal cosa... No en tercer grado por lo menos" (We know I never did such a thing... Not in third grade at least) He said making the three of you laugh

"In second grade too, right?"

"Oh c'mon, girl. Leave your brother alone and let's go do the project. I feel like it's going to be demasiado largo para nuestro gusto, so ¡vamonos!" You grabbed her shoulders and pushed her into her room

"¡Y/N!" Pablo called you before you could dissapear from the room

"What?" You turned around

"You like Doritos?" You nod several times "I'll take you some in a few" He smiled and you smiled back at him

"Gracias" You said softly

"There are no Doritos for me?" Aurora asked in disbelief

"There are" He said "But you have to look them for yourself, I won't bring you anything" Pablo replied as if it was the most obvious thing ever causing you to laugh

"Why?!" She asked as you pushed her onto her room

"Because she's pretty!" He said from downstairs as you stood there impressed and Aurora laughed at your shocked expression

And that was the beggining of you and Gavi.

You couldn't lie, el chamo was truly beautiful, he always took up on making you laugh and chatting with you about anything. Mostly of your life, he wanted to get to know you and everytime you tried to bring the convo onto him, he'd answer your questions but eventually turn it around to you, ending into telling him stories from your time in Venezuela, what you did as little and going as far to ask for your Uni stuffs even if he doesn't understand anything about Statistics

"La malta con una empanada de carne mechada y con salsa de ajo es lo mejor de la vida... Y ni hablemos de la arepa con suero" (Malta with a shredded meat empanada and garlic sauce is the best thing in life... And let's not talk about the arepa with whey) You always tell him making a smile appear on his face

He has been spending every time possible off with you, he even stole your phone number from Aurora's phone, winning a smack from his sister and watching you give a little pinch on Aurora's arm

"¡Ow, bruja!"

"Let him" You had said smiling

Because yes, you were also gone for your best's friend's brother, but you couldn't help it. It has been four months since you've met Pablo and they were the best four months ever.

Aurora often liked to make fun of the two of you, obviously into each other but not making any move. Instead of being mad, she definitely liked the idea of you dating her little brother.

You ignore her comments, even tho he gave you the impression, you didn't know if he liked you back. And you weren't going to make things awkward in between the two and currently three of you because of that.

You were chatting with Aurora and some of Pablo friends like Pedri, Ansu, they have came from training and all decided to spend a nice evening and also two of Pablo's childhood friends, meanwhile you were studying and chatting around with Aurora.

You laughed at something Ansu had said

"¿Qué? Mano, ¿Que webona' es esa, ah? La coña 'ta burda e' loca, 'sie carajo" (What? Bro, what the hell is that, eh? The girl is out of this world, fucking hell) You reply shaking your head

"For real, Y/N!"

"Pero explica bien la vaina, que fue lo que pasó. Pasito a pasito" (But you've got to explain yourself properly, everything that happened. Step by step)

"¿Suave, suavecito?" One of Pablo's friends, Diego, chimmed getting a smile out of you

"Well, I didn't say it with that purpose but it does go well" The guys laughed.

As Ansu started telling once more from the beggining his story with this girl, you felt an arm wrap around you waist and the other under your knees.

You turned your head to the side and looked to find Pablo, lifting you from your spot that was next to his, to pull you right next to him, without any kind of space. He also grabbed the chair and pulled it closer to him.

"Why?" That's all you asked softly

"You were too far away" Pablo replied audible enough for the two of you, you blushed and leaned a bit into him.

You kept on listening Ansu, the guys sharing your statement and telling him it was the best if he left her.

"Y/N/N" Aurora called for you "Go and bring us some snacks?"

"This isn't my house" You replied.

"Of course it is! Just go inside and grab some snacks for us to eat"

"Why don't you just go?" You ask "I'm way too comfortable here"

"You're younger!" She exclaims as you roll your eyes, standing up

"I'll come with you" Pablo said "I can help you with the drinks"

Both of you entered the house, you went to grab the snacks as Pablo grabbed a Coca-Cola and a few vases, when his phone dinged.

"Aurora asks if you can do the bread and Nutella thing" He asks as you sigh

"Tú hermana jode mucho a veces" (Your sister is annoying sometimes) You said making Gavi laugh.

You went to look for the bread and the Nutella, cutting them and filling them up with the cacao. You were done with your job but you filled a spoon full of Nutella

"¿Quieres?" (Want some?) You offered him a light smile as he shook his head

"Cómelo tú" He smiled putting the Nutella away and helping you clean the little utensils you used.

Once you were done, you washed the spoon and faced Gavi only for him to laugh a little

"Please don't tell me I have chocolate all over my face" You begged covering your mouth with your hand

"Only here" He pointed at his lips the place

"Here?" He shook his head "Here?" He shook his head once more "Here?" He shook his head "Ajá, ¿Y en dónde es la vaina pues?" (And where's the thing then?) You ask making him laugh

"Can I?" You nod watching him step closer to you, he lifted one of his hand in your cheek lightly, caressing it with his thumb, your eyes locked with his.

His other hand came up to your face as well with this one, he swept his thumb over your bottom lip "Done" He whispered licking his thumb quickly.

But none of you bothered to move away from the other, instead you keep leaning in "Can I?" Pablo asked once more this time with different meaning.

You smiled and nodding soon you feel his lips locking yours in a kiss.

"You taste like cacao" He whispered above your lips and pecking them several times, you laughed looking down at the floor but felt how Gavi's hands lifted your head making you look at him once more "I loved that"

You smiled, this time leaning up to kiss him wrapping your arms around his torso

"You don't know how much I wanted to do this ever since I met you" He whispered once more in between kisses

"Glad to know feeling was mutual" You giggled

"Go out on a date with me?" Kiss "Please"

"Joder, claro que sí" You kissed him once more

"¡Ay, Ave María purísima!" You heard someone say instantly separating from each other. Aurora was standing there with a big smile on "First kissing picture, I love it!" She said excited "Took you long guys!" She said coming over and grabbing the Coca-Cola, the bread and the snacks. "Leave you guys alone to keep doing your thing" she winked

"That was awkward" You murmur feeling Pablo smile and nod

"So.... When are you free?"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

@gaviypedrisbride

[gay-dorito-dust]

This is so cute, please request part 2 of their newborn son, Peter B Parker visiting his best friend shyreader at the hospital, he gives her son a couple onesies like spider man theme or one that’s says “mommy boy”. I can’t stop thinking about Peter being the godfather of her son ♥️💙 https://www.tumblr.com/gay-dorito-dust/721470690012839936/i-thought-this-is-cute-but-please-request-like

A/n: Godfather Peter B Parker is in the house! I love this idea! I also added Peter being asked in being the godfather just cuz. Miguel might be ooc.

Peter came to the hospital as soon as Miguel caught wind that you were going into to labour, so it wouldn’t be of any surprise that along the way Peter had to calm down Miguel before entering the hospital because his claws were coming out and retreating constantly, his breathing was way off and just overall allowing his mind wander to less then pleasant thoughts in regards to your future together, and the dangers it’ll put you both in.

Peter somewhat understood the position Miguel was in as it was the same one he was in when MJ went into labour with Mayday. He didn’t believe he’d be a good father, hell he didn’t even know where to start in learning how to be a good parent for his unborn kid, but he was lucky to have someone like MJ to help him unpack and deconstruct every notion he had when it came to parenthood.

So he only wanted to pay that kindness forward by helping Miguel unpack and deconstruct everything because the moment he steps foot into that room, he’ll be needing to bring everything to the table because you’ll be needing him now more then ever, during quite literally the most important moment of your lives.

‘What if I forget about her?’ Miguel asked in a panic, his claws out in full display as his scarlet eyes shone with a multitude of emotions behind his specially designed glasses that helped him against combat his light sensitivity.

‘You won’t.’ Peter told him. ‘She’ll always be with you during every step of the way. Even if you may not realise it but Gabriella has always been with you…it’s impossible to forget your first child but that shouldn’t mean that your child with y/n should take her place within your heart nor play second fiddle to her.’ Peter hated seeing his friend look so lost and at war with himself because it went against everything he knew about Miguel. However Peter knew that his friend needed him and even if he tried to bite his head off for it, Peter knew he’d always be there for a friend in need.

‘What if I’m not ready to go through all this again? What if I’m not ready to loose them both, to loose everything again because I couldn’t protect them?’ Miguel asked, looking over at Peter for guidance. ‘Then what’ll I do?’ Peter squared up his jaw and furrowed his brows as he reached a hand out to grab ahold of Miguel’s shoulder, feeling him flinch beneath his touch.

‘Then you cherish them until you can’t.’ Peter told him. ‘You cherish them, you love them, you nurture them, you do everything in your power, not only as y/n’s partner but as a soon to be father and you do what we Spider-Men do best; protect those that we love until the bitter end.’

Needless to say after that, Miguel understood why Peter was so revered, not just as Spider-Man but as Peter Parker also. Yeah he may crack jokes to his expenses and take to things not as seriously as he probably should, but at the end of the day Peter always proved himself as to why he was such a guiding source for those who’ve gotten lost along the way; For he himself was lost once too and just wanted to be the person he wished he had to guide him during those moments of crisis, loss and grief.

Skipping ahead to when Gabriel is born and bursting with excitement, Peter bought a shit ton of baby onesies and even bought a matching crocheted Spider-Man hat that was closely matching the colours on Miguel’s suit for when he was older. Most of all he was excited that Mayday wasn’t going to be the only Spiderling anymore, his mind having gone rampant with all the play date ideas your son and his daughter would go on. He just so happy but upon arrival, the question you and Miguel ask of him made him all the more happier.

‘Peter, will you be Gabriel’s godfather?’ You asked, watching as his grin stretched from ear to ear.

‘Me? A godfather? What does Miguel think about this?’ He asked.

‘I was the one who pitched the idea,’ Miguel told him, still holding little Gabriel in his arms as he slept. ‘Y/n was merely the seal of approval.’ You shoot Miguel a look before looking back to your best friend, who was seemingly having a hard time comprehending that it was Miguel who wanted him as the Godfather of his son from how the gobsmacked looked upon his face.

‘So…will you be Gabriel’s godfather?’ You asked and with happy tears in his eyes, Peter took both of your hands, squeezing them tightly as he whispered his answer: ‘yes.’

‘I almost forgot, I brought Gabriel a little something.’ Peter said as he pulled away to reach for the bag he had brought and began to pull out onesie, after onesie, after onesie that you couldn’t help but think that Peter was more prepared and well equipped for Gabriel then you and Miguel. ‘You bought Gabriel baby onesies?’ You inquired playfully as you lifted one that read ‘mommy’s boy’ before putting it down to pick up at another that had the blue and red colour scheme of a Spidey suit, followed with the spider insignia on the front and back.

‘Not only that but also,’ Peter dug further into the bag and pulled out the crocheted Spider-Man hat, ‘ a Spider-Man hat?’ You asked, taking a closer look at it. Peter shrugs as he leans back into his chair. ‘This is only for when he gets bigger, as if we put this on him now it might as well cover up his entire body.’

Before Miguel could say anything, you gently nudged him in the side and smiled at your friend, ‘thank you Peter, I’ll be sure to put all of them into use, especially this one.’ You gestured to the onesie that said ‘mommy’s boy.’

Sooner or later Peter’s phone wasn’t only just dedicated to his daughter Mayday but it was also dedicated to Gabriel O’hara; his godson.

[writing-until-i-drop]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 4

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Cassandra isn't speaking to Daisy and her work suffers but a call from her brother should make everything better, right?

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

Cassandra wasn’t cooperating today and I knew better than to try and force it. Instead, I tried my hand at writing something overtly and didn’t make it a full page before scrapping the entire project. I’d had a few boyfriends before but none of them had given me the foot-popping, sparks-flying, kind of romance people wrote about. 

In a desperate attempt to get something done, I wrote a few paragraphs more of an abandoned project about a kid detective trying to solve the theft of a neighbor’s lawn gnome. It wasn’t my most inspired piece of work, one of the many reasons Jason had told me to drop it, but it felt good to write something. 

After completely throwing in the towel, I cleaned the apartment and made a double batch of M&M cookies, snacking on the chocolate candies as I went. Once the kitchen was cleaned again, I realized that I had made enough cookies to feed an army without an army to feed. 

Daisy: Movie night at our place with the daggers? 

Daisy: I may have stress baked

After an hour, Natasha responded affirmatively and I decided to run to the store for more snacks. While debating between Dorito flavors, my phone rang, Harvey’s picture flashing on the screen.

“Hey, Harv,” I greeted him, adding both bags of chips to my cart. “How are my girls?” 

“Driving me crazy as usual,” Harvey laughed and I felt a bit lighter inside. There had been a point in our childhoods where I felt resentful that Harvey could be so happy but my therapist and a healthy dose of prescriptions had helped me past that. “How’s life in California?” 

“Hot,” I joked. “The sun’s insufferable but it’s good to be living with Tasha again. She’s got some great friends that I bribed with cookies into accepting me as one of them.” 

“Of course you did, your cookies could broker world peace.” I chuckled, waiting for Harvey to cut to the chase as I continued to throw all the snack foods I could find into the cart including frozen pizzas and chicken wings. “August is coming to an end.” There it was. I sighed but stayed silent, “How are you doing, DeeDee?” 

“I’ve already scheduled the flowers to be sent to their graves and-” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” 

“I’m fine, Harv. I’m keeping busy, trying not to think about it.” Something fell behind me and I nearly jumped out of my skin, white-knuckling the cart. It was like a switch flipped, all of my nerves lighting on fire, the acute paranoia I’d worked so hard to rid myself of sprinting to the forefront of my mind. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as Harvey’s voice faded into a soft buzzing. Was someone watching me? No, no one was watching me. I tried to shake off the feeling, moving at a snail’s pace through the aisle. I looked down at my feet and I could have sworn I saw red despite the canvas being black. 

“Daisy?” I heard my name through the fog, “Daisy Louise? DeeDee, you’re okay. You’re okay, everything’s okay, DeeDee.” Harvey. Harvey was calling for me. Where was he? I had to get to him. “I’m okay, DeeDee. I’m safe.” The fog pulled away and I was on the floor of the frozen aisle, my phone beside me. 

“Harvey?” 

“I’m here, I’m alright, DeeDee.” He soothed, “Are you okay?” I grabbed the phone, tucking my head between my knees.

“I’m okay, Harv. I just…”

“I know, it’s okay. It’s normal but you should call Natasha and have her pick you up.” That was completely off of the table. I could handle this by myself, all I needed to do was get to my feet and everything would be okay. “I love you, DeeDee.”

“I love you too, Harvey.” I sat on the floor with my head in my hands for a few seconds after hanging up, evening out my breathing until I didn’t think I was going to pass out anymore. I struggled my way through checkout, my mind drifting and then snapping back to reality with everyone off-kilter sound I heard or thought I heard. But when my hands were shaking too hard to put the keys in the ignition, I put my pride inside and called Tasha. 

“Phoenix’s phone,” Coyote picked up and I nearly ended the call, “Daisy?” 

“Is Tasha there?” Fuck, I sounded like I had been crying. My voice wavered, full of emotion.

“She’s in the air, what’s wrong, Daisy?” Coyote was all business and I appreciated him for it.

“It’s fine, nevermind,” I even failed at convincing myself that things were fine. Coyote sighed then replied in a soft, quiet voice.

“Daisy, Nat told me that sometimes you have anxiety attacks. Is that what happened?” Damn it. Natasha had helped me through more than her fair share of them in college, it only made sense that she would tell someone important to her like Coyote.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I sighed, “I just, I’m at the grocery store and I don’t know if I should be driving home like this.” I heard Jake’s voice in the background and tensed, “Don’t tell Hangman.” Coyote chuckled,

“Yes, ma’am. Alright, there’s two ways this can go. I can ask Mav for permission to come get you or I can call Penny.” Neither option sounded preferable. “Penny’s going to ask a lot of questions because she’s a mom and then she’s going to tell Mav anyways. I will ask no questions because I’ve already got an idea of what’s going on.” 

“As long as Mav’s the only extra person in the loop,” I relented. “And Javy? Thanks.” 

Javy showed up in his flight suit not long after and I was distracted for a second by just how handsome he was. Natasha’s taste in men had gotten a lot better since college.

“Do you want to stop for food on the way back? Sugar will make you feel better after an adrenaline dump like that.” I nodded, thanking him again for showing up. “You’re part of the squad now, Daisy, no thanks necessary.” The sentiment warmed my heart, a soft smile appearing despite the embarrassing situation. 

“Can we get Wendy’s? It’s my favorite.” A spicy chicken nugget and a Dr. Pepper sounded amazing right now. Javy messed my hair like a big brother,

“Whatever you want.” After a few minutes of listening to the radio in silence, Javy glanced over at me. “So, what do you think of Hangman?” 

“What do you think of Tasha?” I shot back, not expecting him to answer but he took me by surprise.

“She’s one hell of a woman and a fantastic pilot.” Javy grinned like a lovesick idiot and I found myself smiling too, “I’m lucky she gives me the time of day if I’m being honest.” He glanced over at me again, still smiling and I rolled my eyes. “Your turn.” 

“Hangman’s a flirtatious ass,” Javy barked with laughter, pulling into the Wendy’s. “But Jake’s nice and he listens to me when I go on my rants about random shit. Like, I swear he probably listened to me talk about Sherlock Holmes for an hour the other night.” 

“Hour and a half,” Javy snickered, “We timed it.” I couldn’t even be mad, laughing with him.

“Not even Tasha would let me go on like that! So yeah, I think Jake’s pretty great.” I brushed my hair into my eyes to hide my blush, “Anyways, I’ll take a spicy number ten with a Dr. Pepper, please.” 

“Do you want a frosty too?” Yep. Natasha’s taste in men had definitely improved.

After cooing over me like a mother hen and calling Harvey to let him know I was okay, Natasha took Harvey to get his car. After taking a shower and finishing the large frosty Javy bought me even when I told him not to, I felt a lot better. Well enough to respond to the texts Jake had been sending me. 

Jake: Everything okay? 

Jake: Coyote told me to mind my business and that you were fine but I want to hear it from you

Jake: Phoenix also told to mind my business

Jake: Honey I need to hear it from you

Jake: If you don’t text me in ten minutes I’m coming over

I rolled my eyes but the butterflies in my stomach took flight, swirling in delight that Jake was concerned for me. 

Daisy: Listen to Javy, pretty boy. I’m fine

Jake: Too late

“If this boy isn’t careful, I’m going to fall in love with him,” I whispered to the empty kitchen, ripping open a packet of M&Ms. 

X

“Hey,” Daisy greeted me with a lazy smile, throwing back a palmful of M&Ms. Something was off about her but I couldn’t put my finger on it just yet. I was going to figure it out though, you could bet on that. 

“Hey, Wildflower. How are you feeling?” She rolled her eyes like she didn’t have a care in the world but her shoulders tensed. Coyote had been tight lipped over why he had left work early but with how both he and Phoenix were acting, I knew it had to be Daisy and that had spun me up into a twister of anxiety that eased a little seeing her.

“I told you I was fine, see?” She gestured down her body. Daisy was in cartoon pajama shorts that showed off her pale thighs and a tank top, her endless curves on display from top to bottom. I swallowed hard, my mind filled with thoughts of running my hands over her hips, spreading her knees, and eating Daisy for dessert on Phoenix’s counter. “I’m perfectly fine.” 

“You look fine as hell, sweetheart,” Daisy blushed hard, her chest and cheeks burning red. “But you know it’s not your body I’m asking about.” I crossed the room, needing to put my hands on her even if I shouldn’t.

“Okay, Hangman,” She grumbled, using my callsign like she always did when I said something flirty. My hands landed softly on her hip and her cheek, forcing her to stay close and look at me. Daisy relaxed, eyes fluttering shut. “I’ll be fine, Jake,” She whispered and I felt myself melt. This girl had no idea that I was putty in her hands.

“Of course you will be,” I promised, “Because I’m going to be right here by your side.” Daisy smiled, eyes still closed, nuzzling her cheek like a cat into my hand.

“You’re laying it on pretty thick again, Hangman.” God this girl. She didn’t believe a word that came out of my mouth if it veered even the slightest bit away from platonic. I had my work cut out for me but when she opened her dark eyes and smiled at me like I hung the stars and the moon, I knew I was up to the task. “Do you want a cookie?” What I wanted was to kiss her forehead but a cookie would work for now. 

The rest of the daggers showed up a little bit later and while Daisy played the role of the perfect hostess, I pulled Coyote off to the side. 

“Should I be worried?” Coyote glanced over my shoulder to where Daisy was and then shrugged.

“I don’t think so, at least, not at the moment anyways.” My heart clenched, needing to know more but he shook his head before I could ask. “Nothing about this situation is my business to share, man. When she’s ready to tell, she’ll tell.” 

“We should watch a horror movie,” Bradley suggested, the loud agreement of the squad interrupting our conversation. Coyote patted me on the shoulder, heading for the kitchen. When she was ready to tell, she would tell me. I had to trust that that would be the case. Right? 

“Hangman, get some food before Bob eats it all!” Rooster shouted for my attention. Bob was blushing with a plate piled high with food, praising Daisy’s homemade mac and cheese so that’s what I scooped up first. I didn’t miss how Phoenix was hovering behind Daisy, watching her like a hawk. I said a little prayer, hoping that Daisy would find the right moment to tell me what was going on sooner rather than later.

With a plate full of snacks, we all scattered around the living room. Daisy came right to me with a blanket, a blush on her cheeks, not looking me in the eyes as she took a seat beside me. She was the one person without a plate of food and turned me down when I offered her some of my chips,

“I’m not hungry,” She whispered, bringing the blanket up to her chin. “Javy got me Wendy’s.” He was Javy to her now? I glanced over at my best friend, who was not so subtly making eyes at Phoenix while she and Rooster argued over what horror movie we were going to watch. Rooster won when he threatened to tell a story that had Phoenix slapping a hand over his mouth.

It ended up being about some demon who was influencing people to murder others but the special effects weren’t all that believable. I much preferred a 90s action flick or, when alone, a Hallmark movie on occasion. With every passing minute, Daisy inched closer to my side, the blanket moving higher up her face. Seizing the opportunity, I dropped my plate on the table and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing her close. 

“Not a fan of horror?” I whisper, she shook her head, eyes locked on the screen as the possessed man picked up a hunting knife. 

“Murder,” She whispered back, her hand tentatively resting on my thigh.

“Aren’t you a crime novelist, sweetheart?” I teased, trying to ignore how good it felt to have her hands on me.

“That’s different,” Daisy insisted, jumping at something on screen but I wasn’t watching the movie anymore, my focus was solely on her. Daisy looked terrified. I shifted sideways and pulled her face into my chest, forcing her attention off of the movie and whatever it was that was scaring her so much. Her hand moved from my thigh to my chest, fingers digging into my shirt. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you, baby,” I whispered into her hair, kissing her head. “It’s just a movie.” Daisy went limp in my hold and I pulled her sideways onto my lap, Bob looked and quickly looked away but it didn’t seem like anyone else noticed. Not that I would care if they did, if this was what Daisy needed, then it’s what I was going to do. I squeezed her thigh gently and began stroking my thumb back and forth, “I’ve got you.” 

“I know,” Daisy whispered into my shoulder. After a moment she added, “If I’m too heavy-” She stopped when I squeezed her thigh,

“You can sit on my lap whenever you want, Wildflower.” 

“My gentleman,” She sighed and I felt a glimmer of hope. She didn’t call me Hangman.

Next Chapter

[witchofthesouls]

Eee Seeker Lennox is just chef kiss! What’s your hcs on frame behaviour differences with him and his fam to the autobots grounder frames.

Fr need more seeker Lennox in ma life xD if you don’t mind pleaseeeeeee write more

When it comes to Lennox family's physiology, there's differences that stem from them being Seekers as well as carryover from their old human selves.

Between Sarah and Will:

Think of Sarah more like a dark and matte version of Blitzwing from the Bumblebee film.

Sarah is larger and heavier compared to her husband. Her color palette is far more muted compared to Will's glossiness.

Seeker femmes don't have digitigrade legs as they require extra stability to carry the extra weight and density. Seeker mechs are geared towards agility, speed, and stealth.

Will has an extra set of talons in his lower legs. His kicks are far more deadly as he can extend the talons for a greater reach.

Yes. Seeker!Will has digitigrade legs.

Them as Seekers versus the groundbound Autobots:

Both are constantly communicating. While wingcant is culturally shaped by the city-state, there's a lot of instinctive movements.

Sarah has the capability to track down Energon deposits across the planet.

Sigma abilities. Will has a very advanced chameleon-like ability to blend in his surroundings. To the point of neutralizing his entire presence.

Typically, Seeker femmes don't have sigma abilities, but Sarah has one. She's capable of scrambling electrical signals that target movement within Cybertronian frames with a furious shriek.

Sarah and Will are aggressively affectionate to each other. Not just blending their fields together, but they have intense urges to constantly be physical. To the point of microtransforming their frames to either mesh into each other or be as close as possible. Wingspans tapping together or realigning to rest side-by-side in public. Nuzzling and necking in private.

Seekers are a very social frame-type. That instinct is made worse by the sudden cut from everyone else as they fled north and their new status as bondmates.

The Autobots don't have to worry about the Decepticon Seekers poaching away Will because the negative influences of no trine are kept in check by his and Sarah's sparkbond.

(If anything, they would need to worry about the Decepticon Seekers attempting to court or capture Sarah. Especially in the period where she's essentially a newbuild that's getting used to her frame but proven with a newspark!Annabelle.)

Ironhide being a goodsport as the pair aggressively rope him into activities that's usually between close ties among Seekers. But he's also needs to be a buffer between Sarah and the rest of the Autobots.

Seeker!Will has accepted that the Autobots are a potential flock, and Optimus acts as his Winglord. Seeker!Sarah, not so much...

The human sensibilities and the Seeker instinct war with her, whereas it's generally aligned with Will due to his exposure and close relationships to the Autobots as a human.

Sarah is slowly coming around as she uses Ironhide and Will to ease the Seeker agitation to defend or challenge down.

Worst comes to worst, Optimus may need to intervene and force the instinct to submit to the hierarchy of the Autobot 'flock.'

The humans thought it's a carryover from their humanity to be more comfortable resting in their root-modes. No. It's their social drive. Nesting is easier with bipedal frames.

The human influence on Lennoxes' Cybertronian frames:

Will's appearance is less of a Dorito and more similar proportion to his old body. His wings in root-mode seem to be split to create the appearance of two sets. One longer, primary pair and one shorter, secondary pair.

They're far more flexible. Especially Sarah, as she actually has a habit of yoga and stretching. Surprises the hell out of Ratchet when she's able to bend in ways that would usually put immense strain on her frame-type.

Far greater tolerance towards lower-grade fuels and able to digest a greater variety of raw ores. Their frames have an edge with more specialized platets across their entire frames to convert UV light into small bits of energy .

Their expressions are far more fluid, even with the more mechanical mandibles. Sarah and Will have a greater range of facial micro-expressions with their optics, conveniently placed ridges to mimick a close form of noses and eyebrows, and the shape of their 'mouths.' A major tradeoff is that their faces are far more vulnerable compared to the rest of the Cybertronians.

Annabelle's development seems both behind and advanced. Her plating is still too soft and lacks the typical density of her mobility. Her sight is more aligned with a newspark, but she has the vocal range of a near first-star sparkling. Ratchet is keeping a firm optic on the little one.

[thedemonsurfer]

hey uuuh im procrastinating on other things so let's write a big ol' essay about

Eclipse 3.1, and Why Moon Is Doing a Disservice By Writing Him Off As "Insane*"

*insane in this context being the definition of 'acting erratic and unpredictable with no regard to consequences' and not an actual mental illness diagnosis, I know, I wish they'd pick a different word too, but this is an essay about Eclipse's behavior, not linguistics

So! If you've only been sorta keeping up with SAMS, the current plot is someone (we still don't know who) revived everyone's favorite dusty Dorito that had been forgotten under the couch, slapped him on the ass, and pointed him at the Daycare. This has made a lot of people (in universe) very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move, even by Eclipse.

Especially by Eclipse.

Our buddy boy has magic (dunno how), incomplete memories of both the original Eclipse and the backup (no clue how he got those), and directives embedded in his code that can't be removed without killing him (¯\_(ツ)_/¯). He literally woke up in the hallway outside the Daycare and then went inside and started monologuing.

Eclipse wants to find the person who brought him back, maybe or maybe not ask some questions, and then kill them.

He reeeeeally wants to kill them.

(This whole arc honestly boils down to Eclipse grabbing various folks and shaking them while screaming "ARE YOU MY MOMMY?!")

In recent eps Moon has accused him of going 'insane', mostly due to his insistence on picking fights and threatening others, and that he cannot shut up about wanting to get the guy that made him. He very recently picked a fight with Lunar, who killed him again-- and proved at the moment he can't be killed permanently, he'll just come back in a new body.

Huh.. fighting a programmed compulsion, becoming more erratic and aggressive over time, breakdown of logic and reasoning... That seems kind of familiar...

Oh yeah! This is Eclipse's kill code. I'm calling it the 'bother code', but 'cringecode' and 'pain-in-the-ass code' aren't off the table. Unlike Moon's kill code, the expression seems to be 'be a distraction to Moon' rather than like, outright murdering people.

Like the kill code, fighting the compulsion seems to make his behavior more unstable. Because here's the thing: Eclipse isn't stupid.

Well.

Okay, Eclipse is stupid, but not... like this.

Eclipse is a manipulator. His thing has always been to recruit others to help him achieve his goal, and he's patient about it. He's willing to work for months on someone, and while he does shoot himself in the foot eventually, it's usually more indirectly than this. Moon is currently helping him search for the guy, it makes no sense for Eclipse to continue posturing and threatening.

Except-- that's his only outlet right now.

The "I need to find the guy who made me"? That's Eclipse's goal, the one he's pursing with all the stubbornness he has.

The "hey what if I killed or maimed some of your family"? That's the directives.

What we're seeing with Eclipse's behavior is him desperately trying to keep himself on track, when the bother code is trying to yank him in another direction. Threatening Moon so he'll 'work faster' is an outlet, a way for him to briefly pacify the code while redirecting it back into his own goal. He knows it's a stupid suggestion, but he's going to make it anyway because he has no choice.

I think he feels like he's running out of time as well. Because Eclipse can be patient, but he gets frustrated and short tempered the closer he gets to a deadline (this is why I believe he started being meaner to Lunar-- he was frustrated about not finding the star and had given himself only a month to do it).

So like.. yeah. I don't think he's going 'insane' or 'losing his mind'. I think he's fighting a losing battle against his own programming, and taking the frustration and panic out on everyone else. Because the kill code couldn't be fought off indefinitely, eventually the bot would crack under it. And it'd be nice if Moon could acknowledge that Eclipse's behavior isn't entirely voluntary, and he IS I think honestly doing his best-- he outright came to them for help, something he's never done before.

Idk maybe they need to let Eclipse put Moon in a stupid trap again for an ep to get it out of his system so he can chill out for a while.

A sidenote! Its interesting to me that Eclipse's behavior in the coming back ep seemed to be erratic only as long as Moon was present. Once Moon left, Eclipse changed gears in how he was talking to Solar, and had some very classic "you know you're better than this, don't you want to go apeshit?" lines. The kind of thing that we've seen from the previous Eclipse incarnations. Dunno yet if it means anything, but it's interesting!