#where do these anons find the audacity?

[zee-has-commitment-issues]

look, i get wanting to include a language you speak in your work or wtv but respectfully the random untranslated swedish bits feel out of place and like a swedish version of a koreaboo. im honestly not surprised ur from the us bc that does feel like smth ppl from there would do. amyways what im trying to say is they disrupt the flow and feel awkward, even if you can understand (most) of it. it usually only works if the character whose pov youre in doesn't understand either and thats part of the plot and gets revealed later on :/ hope you dont take this as hate or anything! have a good one

Bestie, how else would I take this other than hate?

I really try to be nice on here, but I am so goddamn flabbergasted by the sheer audacity some people seem to have.

I don't really leave random untranslated Swedish bits in my work? Not bits that anyone doesn't already know: "nej" "jag älskar dig" "lillebror/brorsan." If I do leave longer parts, I put the translation at the end of the work/chapter. And I'm far from the only person who does this. Half of the young royals fics have Swedish in them. It takes place in Sweden. Are you sending this to every fic writer? or just me?

It really shouldn't make much of a difference to you. As you said, I speak the language. If I want to put it in my writing, I damn well can. I can also put French in my fics if I want. German. Italian. Any of the others. I write for me.

"im honestly not surprised ur from the us bc that does feel like smth ppl from there would do" What does that mean? You don't know anything about me. I was born and raised in the United States, sure. Does that mean I cannot appreciate any kind of outside culture? Sorry, I'll just call up my Swedish grandparents and tell them I can't come over anymore. Then I'll call the Welsh ones and tell them the same. I wouldn't want to become too obsessed with a culture I was born from. My bad.

Anyway, you sent this on anon so I hope you know you're a coward💜

[ohbueckers]

HALFTIME. i know that your body’s been in drought, so, girl, i’m gon’ make you feel it.

ONE-SHOT! pairing, paige bueckers x reader. notes, based off this request. thank you, anon, they all said in unison! i swear jealousy is what i write the best i’m always finding a way to it lmaaao. enjoy as always. warnings, sexual content.

the arena lights are blinding, but they don’t stop paige from seeing everything—and everyone—in the stands. she scans the seats between plays, like she’s been doing all game, just to catch a glimpse of you. you’re sitting on your own, decked out in her uconn gear. you flew in from usc, your own university, just for her, crossing the country to see her play, and it’s been keeping her amped up since tip-off after not having seen you since the season started.

she’d been locked in, sure, but ever since she spotted you, every second on the court has doubled as an opportunity to check in. you’d mentioned you’d be sitting alone since you didn’t know anyone besides her teammates, and she’s been quietly reassuring herself that you’d be okay. it was enough, though—the knowledge that you were here, watching her, even if it was from a distance.

now, though? now, paige can’t believe what she’s seeing.

some guy just sat next to you, leaning in with too much confidence, smiling too wide. paige can’t see the details, but she notices the way his posture says too close, the way you tilt your head slightly, almost like you’re humoring him. it doesn’t matter that you’re probably being nice, that you probably had an empty seat next to you. that’s her spot next to you, her right to your focus.

she catches herself clenching her jaw, and her hands tighten around the ball as she sets up the next play. shes almost telling herself to let it go, that she only feels like this because she’s missed you so bad, and didn’t even have a chance to see you before having to get on the court. but that was until she saw it. his hand.

she runs a hand down her ponytail, fingers grazing over the two tight braids framing her face, her eyes fixed intently on you and that guy beside you. she’s so caught up in watching that she doesn’t even notice kk nudging ice on the bench, motioning over to her in a way to say, yo, look at p.

it would’ve been fine, really. he laughed, hand dropping casually to your knee, and he even had the audacity to let it linger there, letting it inch a little higher. and that was it—her last bit of patience snapped. she knows you’re hers, but something in her always had to prove a point.

to herself more than anyone.

the whistle blares, and paige plays through the last seconds of the second quarter with a little extra force, a silent countdown ticking away in her mind until the buzzer sounds. as soon as it does, she’s off, nearly throwing the ball just to get it out of her hands.

as she heads off the court, a hand swipes the towel from a teammate, and she slings it around her neck, swiping it across her forehead with parted lips, huffing out breaths of tiredness and pure annoyance. the sweat from the game has her feeling wired, and her heartbeat’s already kicking faster than usual. she flicks her tongue over her lips, jaw working tight. the taste of salt clings to her skin, and her ponytail bounces against her shoulders as she walks, each step more clipped than the last.

rounding the corner into the tunnel, she catches sight of you waiting where you always do, leaning against the wall, your familiar face softening the second you spot her. you’d even left the stands a little earlier just to catch her, but she walks right past, barely a glance in your direction, her silence as heavy as the weight of her irritation. taken aback, you push off the wall, calling after her quietly, but she doesn’t look back, her focus set on where she’s headed. she had to have seen you, right? heard you?

she leads you to a more secluded area, and you can only hear her footsteps filling the empty hallway as you try to keep up, smaller legs not doing you much justice. she strides into the dimly lit room, the only light coming from the showers, casting shadows over the benches, lockers, and tiled floors. paige doesn’t say a word as you step in after her, your eyes wide in disbelief that she’d just fucking ignored you the whole way here.

then, she’s kicking the stopper holding the door open out. it shuts with a click, and without warning, she throws her towel onto a nearby bench before she’s pressing you back against the cool wall. her mouth is on yours, relentless and unapologetic, her tongue sweeping across your lips before slipping inside. she’s tonguing you down.

one hand is at the back of your neck, fingers spread, holding you firmly in place as she deepens the kiss, pouring every ounce of jealousy and need into it. her other hand finds your waist, pulling you flush against her.

“paige—“

“you got a whole lotta nerve, you know that?” she mutters, voice all rough as her lips find your jawline. you’re a little dazed, eyebrows furrowed as you submit to your girlfriend. until it clicks—curly-head in the stands. his hand on your knee, that laugh.

paige is jealous. and you’re definitely gonna milk it.

you wrap your arms around her shoulders, drawing her closer as she peppers kisses down your neck, a possessive bite here and there, making you tilt your head to the side. “you’re bein’ s’mean, p,” you murmur, teasing her in a way you’re sure she’ll fall weak to, fingers stroking that spot just below her ear. “i was just being polite.”

paige hesitates for a moment, her lips hovering over your skin, eyes narrowing. for a second, you think maybe she’s softening, that your words have gotten through. but just as quickly, her jaw tightens, and her eyes lower. without a word, her other hand drops to your waist, fingers gripping hard, and she pushes you down onto the bench behind you so effortlessly it has a pool forming between your legs.

she strolls around, flipping you over. “yeah? didn’t look like it from where i was standin.’” her eyes are fixed on you, and before you can answer, she’s hooking her fingers into your waistband, yanking down your pants in one swift motion. there’s a look in her eyes that tells you she’s not interested in taking her time with only fifteen minutes, and especially not after what she’s seen. she’s set on making a point.

her hands are on you too, one gripping your ass and the other digging into your thigh. you glance back at her, then to the door. her teammates have to be close—maybe a couple doors away. you can hear sneakers and loud chatter, and you wonder if they’re looking for their star player.

for paige, this is the last thing on her mind.

your neck doesn’t let you look for too long, and you’re forced to catch a glimpse of paige’s lick of her lips as you return your head to hang low. “fuckin’ polite,” she mumbles, shaking her head tauntingly as she mocks you.

her hands glide possessively over you, and you can tell just by the way they move how much she’s missed you. missed this. without warning, her fingers slip between your thighs, teasing your folds for just a moment before she slides one inside, the suddenness of it causing a gasp to catch in your throat.

her jersey clings to her, drenched from the game, arm sleeves pushed up just enough to expose the toned muscle of her forearms. her arms flex with each shift, biceps straining under the fabric as her other hand steadies you, holding you firmly in place, and she sure is strong enough to keep you from squirming away.

you’re whimpering, trying to contain your moans as you curl your lips in. paige is leaning in now, lips hovering near your ear as her ponytail brushes against your cheek. “think it’s funny?” she asks, and you shake your head as paige’s eyebrows furrow. “no? y’thought he was though. didn’t you?”

caught off guard, you hesitate, and that’s all it takes for paige to ram another finger in. you aren’t sure if you’ve just just been deprived, but one felt like enough. “pai—ah—fuck!”

she only smirks, settling back a bit as she watches the way her fingers sink in and out of you. “got me out here distracted,” she mutters, her tone dipping lower. you missed hearing her the most, the way the sound of her fucking accent could get you wet. “losin’ my focus over you, watchin’ you with him like you forgot who fucks you like this.”

unable to move out of her grasp, you can only squirm until you’re flush against her, ass pressed to her navy blue shorts. you’re barely able to hold yourself up, the pleasure spreading throughout your entire body.

paige takes the opportunity, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling you up so your back can meet her chest. her bottom lip is tucked between her teeth, her slender fingers pummeling into your cunt, and before you know it, she adds another. a third.

“pai—ge. shit. you’re stretching me out,” you breathe out pathetically, bringing your own hand down to your clit, trying to relieve some of the heat she’s added, but it’s no use.

“i know, baby,” she soothes through clenched teeth, overwhelmed by the grip your walls have on her herself. she’s looking down at you, all hunger. “y’ain’t had it in so long. gotta make sure you feel it.” and you do.

you settle against her with heavy breaths, moaning and clenching as your orgasm builds from her rhythm. paige knows exactly what she’s doing, every part of your body telling her you’re right on the edge. with each moan spilling from your lips, you grind harder, and she picks up her pace. “gonna come, ma? let me know.”

you nod feverishly, your voice almost breaking as you pant. “yeah, so close, p…”

she lets you go, and you catch yourself before falling all the way, whimpering. she pulls out slowly, too slow, until the tips of her fingers remained, curling in just a bit. it isn’t enough to get you there, and before you can beg, paige says, “tell me that you’re mine right now and mayb—“

you can’t wait another second. “i��m yours, baby.”

her smirk deepens, and she tilts her head, clearly savoring the sound of your voice as you confess. “yeah, that’s what i thought.” her fingers curl a bit more, giving you just a hint of the release you’re chasing, her touch infuriatingly perfect but just shy of enough.

with that, she resumes, fingers slipping deeper, her other hand gripping your hip as she holds you. the tension snaps, and you shudder against her, everything fading out as she keeps up, drawing out every last pulse until your legs are weak and your breathing’s even more uneven than before.

as you catch your breath, letting every part you can fall, paige, still holding her grip, pulls your pants up with a glance at the door. as you lean back into her touch again, she presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, almost tender now. “better remember that,” she whispers, barely audible.

craziest part? you don’t even like guys.

[auroreliis]

OMGGG!! Imagine platonic yandere batfam and reader on a vacation at the beach on a privat Island. Would you like to do headcanons/or a scenario (you can decide) of it. Hope you have a good day/night!!

Aaaaa anon <333 We had the same idea <3333 Thank you so much!!!

Perhaps a little late for summer, but inspiration only struck me now!!! <33

Also, I wrote this on like 4 energy drinks so forgive any spelling errors

Also it's not edited or anything...

If reception is positive on this one, I might make a part 2 with the other characters, so let me know if you'd be interested in that :)

Platonic Yandere!Batfamily

Summary: The Batfamily takes you to their private island for summer vacation.

It was just you. Just you and the gently lapping of the waves against the shore. Finally, some alone time. You had to make the most of it, since you were convinced that it wouldn’t last long.

It was about 8 o’clock in the morning. Bruce, Damian and Stephanie had left the island for whatever reason. Dick was either at home or at main beach, looking for you. You had come here about half an hour ago, surely they would’ve noticed your absence and the fact that you had left your phone at home. They were going to chip you eventually, you had come to accept that. However, you certainly enjoyed the time you had away from them whenever they couldn’t find you.

Jason was probably inside the villa. He wasn’t particularly fond of the heat outside. Either that or he’d gone swimming to cool off. Cassandra could’ve been looking for you. Maybe she had already found you.

Instinctively, you looked around. No one was in sight. Then again, she probably wouldn’t let herself be seen anyway.

The shore surrounding the island was wider at the main beach. Here, it was only a few feet wide. Behind you laid a sparse palm forest. Cassandra could certainly hide there. Whatever. You wouldn’t find her anyway. Besides, she would have probably come to talk to you. Probably.

Where would Duke and Tim be? At the villa, right? Where else would they be? Hopefully not looking for you.

Now that you had considered it, you were probably being observed by someone. And if you weren’t, then soon, you would be.

Whatever, just take your mind off it. Think of something else, like…the beautiful beach you’re at. Yes, it is much nicer to think about the gentle breeze. How wonderful. Just you, the beach and the ocean.

You hadn’t ever been at a private beach, so this was a unique experience. All of this belonged to you. Well it actually belonged to your new family, but still, it almost belonged to you.

Your soul nearly left your body at the sound of rustling coming from behind you.

“Hi”, Tim waved nervously after you had spotted him sneaking up on you.

You didn’t feel like answering, so you just turned back to the ocean. Wanting to engage with you somehow, Tim sat down on the sand next to you.

“So…what are you doing here?”, he kept looking at you, but you tried very hard to ignore his gaze.

“Just sitting.”

“Well, I can tell that, but why here? Why not on the main beach? Dick and Jason are scrambling to find you there.”

You had thought that was the case.

“I wanted to be alone.”, you emphasized every word.

He chuckles nervously. That was it. He didn’t say anything. That told you everything you needed to know: He was only here to annoy you.

“How did you even find me?”, you turned to him, your voice tinged with frustration.

“Find you? Oh, I wasn’t looking for you, I just wanted to go somewhere alone. You know, somewhere peaceful”, he turned to the ocean, as though in deep thought,”I get it, you know. You also want to be alone sometimes.”

If he “gets it”, then why is he always right behind you?

“I think you and I have a lot more in common than you think”, he said, crossing his arms on his propped up knees and turning to you.

The audacity to say something like that made you shudder.

“I think you’re full of shit”, you wouldn’t let him think that he’s getting closer to you. You could never like someone like him.

He tried to hide his frown, but you saw right through him,”That’s pretty mean, you know. I’m just trying to connect with you.”

He didn’t say it directly, but you knew his words were a warning. Bruce had talked to you about this. You were allowed to have your opinions about them, but being overly rude was a violation of the rules—rules, which he made up. In other words, if Tim thought you were being mean, then you were being mean. Against this, there would be no arguing.

Well, you know what they say: If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

“Ahem, I’m trying to connect with you…”, Tim persisted. You merely pursed your lips and nodded.

Noticing the awkward silence, he spoke again, ”So, will you go swimming?”

You shook your head.

He nodded, “Yes, it isn’t that hot yet, so there’s no need to cool off, I suppose.”

“Well”, he turned to you with a smile, his determination unwavering, “What would you like for breakfast? Alfred already started preparing something. Let’s head back and let him know what you want before he finishes.” But wouldn’t Alfred already know your preference? Perhaps this was Tim’s idea of “bonding”…

Still, his offer seemed tempting, since you hadn’t eaten yet. However, you weren’t jumping at the idea of going back only to place your order with Alfred and then get dragged off to go swimming by either Jason or Dick. Or worse, Tim.

Only now that you felt the hopelessness more intensely, did you begin to question things. Why did Tim always find you first. And how? They didn’t secretly chip you, did they?

…Did they?

Asking them wouldn’t result in an honest answer, so you didn’t really see a point in it. But how else would you figure it out?

You supposed the best person to ask was Bruce—AKA. Dad. He was likely the only person who would answer truthfully…as long as you behaved properly, that is.

“Is dad home yet?”, you turned to Tim, ignoring his previous rambling.

“Oh uh, I’m not sure. Shall we go check together?”, Tim scrambled to use every opportunity he was given, despite being caught off guard.

Perhaps it won’t get any better than this: Mediocre at best.

“Fine, let’s go.”

From the corner of your eye, after Tim grabbed your hand, you saw his smile widen remarkably.

The walk was long and awkward. Your older brother was desperately trying to talk about something, anything, that would catch your interest. Meanwhile, you were silent for the most part.

You had to admit, the villa was quite nice (if only it came without the addition of desperate, touch starved reprobates). Despite having your own room, you were forced to share a room—and often even a bed—with someone, unless you gained Bruce’s special favour for the day.

Luckily, Damian, the person you had to share the room with last night, had left very early in the morning. You weren’t sure how long ago, though, since the letter he’d written to inform you of his absence was…detailed, to say the least. Surely it would’ve taken him more than an hour to even come up with it, let alone write it. What a waster of paper. He didn’t have to say anything at all…

Entering the cool living room made you relax enough to finally engage with Tim, “Um…are Jay and Dick home, or…?”

In respone, he laughed, “Oh, no. I didn’t tell them that you’re with me. They’re probably still looking for you at the main beach. Dick went on about how we shouldn’t let you go anywhere alone in case you drowned or something like that.”

“Wait, what? But I know how to swim! Please tell Bruce that Dick’s rule is unnecessary…I already have enough restrictions, don’t I?” You panicked.

“Well…” He grinned, “That depends on what you’ll do for me in exchange.”

Even sighing was tiring for you at this point, “Fine, I’ll sleep in your room tonight.”

“Until the end of the week, or no deal.”

Holding back a groan, you responded, “Fine, whatever, just…work your magic, okay?” He nodded eagerly.

“Greeting, Masters. Breakfast is almost prepared”, Alfred appeared from the kitchen.

“Hi. Alfred, did you make-”

“Your favourite? Of course I did”, Alfred interrupted.

“…Right.” You should’ve known, to be fair, “Well, when will it be done?”

“When Master Bruce and Master Damian return”

“What about Steph? Isn’t she returning?” If she didn’t return at all, your life would improve considerably.

“Oh, Steph? She wanted to stay in the city for a bit, probably to buy you gifts or something”, Tim responds in Alfred’s stead.

“Gifts…? You don’t think she’ll, you know, make me play dress-up again, right?”, the thought sent a shiver down your spine. In this heat? There was no way you’d wear layers upon layers of clothes just because she was bored. You immediately left the living room, leaving Tim and Alfred behind.

While waiting for everyone to return to eat breakfast, you went and hid somewhere in the villa to avoid social interractions. And hopefully the heat. It was very hot.

[dancingbirdie]

For your smut ideas- astarion leaving bite marks on your thighs👀 pretty vampy elf being all possessive👀

Hi, anon! I loved this request, but I have to warn you: I took it to a bit of a darker place than I usually go. Pay attention to the tags, y'all. I hope you enjoy!

Like my smut writing? Find more here.

Your Feral Love

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings/Tags: Biting, descriptions of blood, possessive/obsessive Astarion, marking/claiming behavior, oral sex (fem!Reader receiving)

Summary: Astarion has an intense desire to claim you. This time, it's in places the others won't be able to see.

*****

“Maybe we need to take things slower,” you murmured in Astarion’s ear. You swallowed thickly as he dragged his fangs across the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“Whyever would we do that?” he whispered huskily, undeterred from continuing his sensual assault. You shivered as you felt his tongue slide up the column of your throat, unable to stop the little moan that escaped your lips.

“Some in our party are worried… about all the bite marks…” you managed to explain, despite the tantalizing option to just lose yourself in Astarion’s embrace. His cool touch was a balm to the inferno he was stoking within you. The creator of your lust; the only cure for it. 

But his lips withdrew from your neck at your response. Pulling back, he met your gaze with furrowed brows and a glare that could make even Lae’zel balk. 

“Who.” he demanded, his voice strained with barely-repressed anger. “Who had the audacity to murmur about us?” 

His fingers spasmed where they clutched your waist. As if he were bracing for the moment when someone would come and yank you away from him. 

He was possessive, your lover. Astarion hadn’t had anything to call his own for over two centuries. Not a thing. Not a soul. Now, after having lowered his guards and allowed you in, his possessive streak was as long and wide as the River Chianthar. He was never far from your side, even in battle. And on the rare occasions he was separated from you, you could feel the heat of his gaze tracking your every movement. Watching you. Making sure his one claim in this world was safe. Accounted for. 

The bite marks were a consequence of having not only a possessive lover but a vampiric one as well. You didn’t mind, of course. He always asked for your consent. 

Can I bite you here?

Your blood is singing to me, darling. Can I taste you here? 

What about here? Would you let me sate myself here? 

You flourished under the intensity of his love for you. The bite marks were a reminder of that, and so you cherished each one. Each was a memory of the way Astarion had taken, given and enjoyed you. Heat would sometimes color your cheeks and neck later on, when you caught sight of a pair of healing puncture marks, recalling just how they had come to be there, on that particular part of your body. 

But others in your party didn’t share your view of these markings. They, namely Wyll and Gale, were worried Astarion had started taking too much of your lifeblood too quickly. You could understand their concern, to some extent. They didn’t know, didn’t have reason to know, how little of your blood he actually took each night. Most times he would drink barely a mouthful before stopping. The urge to claim you in other ways would overtake his bloodlust, and you would climax again and again as he fucked you into oblivion. He kept his fangs punctured in your skin during times like these, claiming that your blood felt sweeter against them as you found your own release. Only when he had spilled himself in you would he remove them, and by then you were too lovestruck to care how long the markings would remain. 

“Tell me, darling.” 

Astarion’s voice brought you back to the present moment. You shook your head to dispel the thoughts distracting you. 

“...Mostly, Wyll. And Gale, to a lesser extent. I don’t know for certain about the others, although I certainly don’t think anyone comes to our defense…” you trailed off, swallowing thickly. 

You caught how Astarion clenched his jaw at your words. He was livid, that much was obvious. You also surmised his anxiety was likely surging within him, the paranoia suggesting that someone or something would cause you to be taken from him. Again, his fingers spasmed against your waist. 

“...So maybe we should… I don’t know, keep a lower profile about all this? If they say something to you directly, I know I’ll not be able to stop myself from fighting with them,” you explained, clutching his cheek desperately. 

“Tsk. Of course the ones who would have a problem with us would be the only other two who’ve been sniffing after you,” Astarion scoffed.

“What the hells are you talking about?” you asked, clearly confused. 

“Oh, darling. Surely you’ve seen the way they look at you? How they talk to you? I certainly have,” he huffed. 

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t pay them attention, Astarion,” you reassured him, nuzzling your nose against the curve of his jaw. “I only have eyes for you.” 

“And I, you,” he murmured, pressing his lips lovingly against your forehead. 

You hummed in delight at his affirmation. While you might not show it through bite marks like him, your possessiveness of Astarion was a fearsome thing, too. The emotion sometimes staggered you, even in the most mundane of moments, like when he donned his armor for the day, or when he cleaned his daggers in the firelight. He was yours. You were his. Anyone else was tertiary. 

The two of you remained in comfortable silence for some time, limbs intertwined as you lay halfway on top of him, your head resting against his chest. There was no beating heart within to listen to, but it hardly mattered. You knew that what was there, beating or not, belonged to you and only you. Astarion had said as much, amid previous bouts of lovemaking you had shared in this tent.

Your musings broke at the feeling and sound of his throaty chuckle beneath you. You lifted your head to meet his gaze, surprised. 

“What is it?” you pressed.

“I have an idea,” he smirked. 

“I usually like your ideas,” you quipped, heat flaring in your lower abdomen at the suggestive look in his eyes. 

“Then you’ll surely enjoy this,” he crooned, before flipping you both over all at once so that you were flat on your back, breathless beneath him. He fit perfectly between the cradle of your thighs, your legs parting almost instinctively to accommodate his presence. With one arm, he propped himself up above you, while his other hand clutched your leg to bare you open wider. The position alone had you growing wetter by the second, anticipation for what was to come driving your thoughts wild. 

“Much as I detest pandering to their concerns, I think we both know I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from fighting with them either, were they to say something directly to us,” Astarion admitted. 

“But,” he continued as his nose skimmed the length of your abdomen, heading further and further south. “I also can’t deny how much pleasure it gives me to mark you as I do… to see the evidence of where my fangs have punctured your lovely skin. Mine. No one else’s.”

You bit your lip in a futile effort to stifle your moan as he began brushing the lightest of kisses against your inner thighs. He slid down lower, his face mere inches from your naked form. This close, you were certain he could smell your arousal. And no doubt find evidence of it as well. 

“So what is your idea?” you managed in a breathy whisper as your hips canted toward him, seemingly of their own volition. 

“How about I mark you here,” he cooed, his fangs sliding along a particularly visible vein that spanned the length of your leg, beginning at your groin. “Where only I can see. A place they can only dream of. A place only I have been.” 

You groaned, skin tingling, nearly electric, in every place his mouth touched. You reached down to card a hand through his carelessly flawless locks, tugging ever so gently on the curls. Astarion growled in response, sending a surge of heat through your lower abdomen. 

You were teasing a livewire at the moment, and you knew it. Just a little push, and you would ignite something truly mind blowing. You chose your next words carefully, readying yourself for the delicious consequences that would no doubt ensue.  

“I’m yours, Astarion,” you whispered, spreading your legs even further for him and clutching his face desperately. “You can lay claim to me however you wish.” 

Another growl ripped from his throat at your words and, in a blink, your lower body was pinned to the ground. His arms banded under and around your thighs to hold you in place, not that you had any desire to move. You whimpered as Astarion nipped and sucked his way across the expanse of skin, his nose grazing your soaked cunt from time to time, causing you to jerk with want. 

“Please,” you begged, desperate to have his mouth on your swollen, throbbing clit. He was so close to where you wanted – no, needed – him to be and yet still so far. 

“Oh no, not yet, darling,” he purred against the plush skin of your thigh. “I’m going to mark you until I’m satisfied first. Then I’ll give you what you crave, I promise.”

You whined, a pathetic little sound, but nodded your assent anyway. Any touch from him was better than nothing, even if it did cause your cunt to ache with a nearly unbearable need.

Then a sudden spike of iciness on your inner thigh had you gasping in surprise, morphing into a long, low moan as you realized Astarion had actually bitten you there. You could feel him sucking your lifeblood into his mouth, your sense of touch being so heightened in your aroused state. 

You lifted your head to watch him move from one place to another as he marked and sated himself. You cradled the side of his head lovingly as he fed from you, swiping your thumb rhythmically across his temple. You were utterly entranced, lost in the delicious feeling of him claiming you, as well as the way he beheld you as he sunk his fangs in again and again across your skin. 

He looked at you with the fervor of a madman. He clutched at your legs like some covetous creature. Drunk on the need to possess, to claim, to mark. It was dark, powerful, and heady. And you absolutely reveled in it, ravenous with want as you witnessed how his love for you manifested in such an incendiary way. 

With a moan of his own, he finally broke from his feasting. Lifting his head to meet your gaze, your cunt clenched at his expression, at his his bloody mouth, grinning widely with purely male satisfaction. 

“It should be a crime, you know,” he rasped, his chest heaving with uneven breaths. “How delicious you taste.” 

You whined at his words, desperate to have him taste you in another way.

“Shh, shh. I know, I know,” he crooned, squeezing your legs reassuringly. “I know how you want to be tasted now, darling. Don’t fret.”

Your back arched off the ground as, without another word, Astarion dipped his head to plunge his tongue inside your dripping core. Your mind short circuited as you felt his nose press against your clit with intent as his tongue continued to spear into you. It was almost too much to bear; your nerves already were nearly raw with desire. 

You couldn’t help the wail that burst from your lips as you felt his tongue lick up, up, up, until he was circling your clit with long, languid strokes. You fisted a blanket and bit down on the fabric, the last shred of your self-awareness working like mad to muffle your sounds.

You knew Astarion was too far gone to care if anyone heard you both, as evidenced by the obscene slurping and smacking sounds that emanated from his lips. That alone had you ratcheting up faster toward climax, relishing the way it felt and sounded to have Astarion feasting on you with such utter abandon.

A few more moments of floating in that delicious limbo and then you were crashing back down from the height of your orgasm. It felt like an almost spiritual experience, though no cleric could ever convince you that a god’s love would feel as good as this, as good as Astarion’s love for you.

Panting and shivering in the aftershock of your release, you clutched at him desperately, eager to embrace him with as much strength your jellied limbs could muster. He crawled up to lay haphazardly on top of you, head resting in the space between your breasts. You combed your fingers through his hair lovingly, content to remain in companionable silence.  

“I’m realizing now that I may have in fact gotten a little out of hand…” he murmured against your sternum after a while. 

“Perhaps,” you chuckled. “But I’ll take your feral love over anything else, my star.”

[idiotmf]

omg please write a piece about reader getting fucked by a ghost i neeeeed it

Hey, anon! Fear not, I shall deliver. I wasn't sure whether you wanted afab or amab, so I went with the usual afab. I'm happy to rewrite it into amab, if anyone wants it!（＾ω＾）

Edit: Here is the amab version!

Feel free to send me asks and requests or little imagines, I'm always happy to expand upon it, it gets the creative juices flowing a little. ^-^

NSFW, Minors DNI, I can see you.

TW: dub-con

Anyway, enough talk. Here's Reader getting not-so-respectfully railed by a ghost:

When your grandma left you a house after she passed, you assumed your troubles would finally be over, and for a while, they were. When you moved in, things were amazing. You didn't have to worry about rent anymore, and the utilities were surprisingly cheap. It's like you hit the jackpot, finally able to live with a few less worries.

Obviously, when you weren't working or hanging out with the odd friend that came over, you spent your time at home, keeping yourself occupied, mostly by either watching something, playing something, or masturbating out of boredom.

Things continued like that for a while, until you found a rather cryptic note from your late grandma that explained in unnecessary detail how there was a ghost living in the house. She strictly referred to the ghost as "him" and mentioned he was fairly friendly, unless provoked, and even then he would only play pranks on you.

Being the rational person that you are, you chalked it up to grandma being senile and that she was just keeping herself entertained since she lived in the house all alone. It would have been fine if that's where it stopped.

One night, your old friend came over, and you did your usual routine of watching something, and then halfway through, you ended up fucking. That's where it really all began.

The next morning, things were on the ground, not like someone had ransacked the place, but it was noticeable enough, though of course you thought it must've been just your old friend who had knocked some stuff over while leaving in a hurry. When you went to bend over to pick some things up, you could feel something grabbing your ass, and without hesitation, you turned around, only to be faced with nothing. Maybe you were going crazy, you thought; it wasn't an awfully strong grip, so maybe it was something your body did.

This excuse became increasingly less effective as time went on. You felt hands everywhere and at the worst times. Caressing your arms and legs, tracing your stomach and back. Eventually it got to the point where you could feel a hand slipping into your pants, playing with your clit. Of course, you were scared at first. Something was clearly there, and it reminded you of the letter your grandma left you.

You began shouting at the ghost. Telling it to stop fucking around and leave you alone. However, the ghost didn't really care; you broke his one rule that he had agreed on with your grandma, and even if you didn't know, he was going to punish you. How dare you bring another man into his house and have the audacity to fuck him?

His touching escalated the more you allowed him. Eventually you noticed a mouth and a wet tongue licking your neck, tracing down to your breasts. It seemed strange, considering you were usually clothed when this happened, yet it felt like it was touching your skin directly. The licking felt nothing like what your old friend would do, although in truth the sex with him wasn't all that good and really just a way to get fucked every once in a while.

Before you knew it, multiple hands were all over you, joined by at least three tongues licking you. This made no sense; you wondered if there were multiple ghosts. It became increasingly difficult to even find the logic in this when you were constantly being groped and licked. One tongue had found its permanent place on your sensitive nub, flicking and sucking it with every move you made; one was carelessly sucking on one of your nipples, alternating with one hand that usually played with the other one. The third mouth seemed to like making out with you, its tongue constantly shoved in your mouth, wrestling yours.

Despite feeling all these ministrations as if they were real, when you looked at your reflection, there was nothing there. Your mouth was gaping, but nothing was in it; your panties were soaked beyond belief most of the time, yet nothing seemed to be there. But truly, the worst part about it all was that it wouldn't let you finish. Whenever you were just about to cum, the mouth disappeared before continuing its torture. It took about two days before you couldn't take it anymore, pleading with the ghost to let you cum. It didn't listen, though it did use more hands to restrict you when you went to touch yourself before shoving something inside of you.

It wasn't much of a sensation, and you felt it curl, so you naturally assumed it was the finger of another hand. “Please,” you began whimpering every other minute, your tone getting more needy with every ruined orgasm that he put you through as minutes began to feel like hours.

“I'll do anything,” you finally managed to choke out through tears as he played with your sodden pussy for what you could only register as an eternity again, bent over the kitchen counter, legs held apart, wrists gripped tightly by the ghost. For a moment, there was nothing but stillness; all the mouths stopped what they were doing, and most of the hands disappeared too, except the ones keeping you in place.

“Anything?” A shiver ran down your spine as you heard the noise that you assumed to be the ghost's voice. It sounded distant and more like the wind howling than a human voice, yet you knew immediately who it was. You nodded, the tears running down your face falling onto the kitchen counter, your twitching cunt trying to feel any sort of stimulation now that the mouths and hands were gone.

“Yes, anything.” The words came out before you could even attempt to stop them, accompanied by a howling sound, which made you wonder whether it was meant to be a laugh or not.

Another few moments passed before a loud noise forced itself out of your mouth at the sensation of something stretching you open. It was long and thick, covered in strange bumps, providing nothing but the most torturous pleasure as it thrust into your hungry cunt at a punishing pace.

Despite your mind still questioning whether this was okay and logical, your body was writhing against the kitchen counter, hands still held still by him, your legs forced apart as he fucked you from behind. No matter how much you attempted to stop it from happening, desperate, high-pitched mewling sounds escaped your lips at a rapid rate as you felt another orgasm approach, hoping this would be the one to finally let you cum after two days of torture.

“What a willing little slut,” the ghost taunted with his howling voice, making him sound distant yet all around you at once. The insults made you mewl louder; something about being used like this by a ghost made your pussy clench harder.

In a small moment of defiance, you glanced back at what might be behind you, but just as expected, there was nothing. Despite your pussy being stretched to an almost painful level, gaping around air, no figure was there to account for it.

Just as your orgasm threatened to spill over, something was shoved into your mouth, making your jaw hurt, before it found its way down your throat, drowning out your mewls and desperate groans.

“Be quiet, whore. I'm not done with you yet.” With those words, your eyes fluttered closed as you let this torture continue for another minute or two, pussy and throat both stuffed full with invisible cocks, bigger than any human's you've ever had. The thought alone was enough to trigger your orgasm, finally sending you over that sweet edge with a loud groan that only came out as a hum. Your body went limp from the impact, and you saw stars in front of your eyes, the ghost holding you up by your wrists as if it were nothing.

Without a word or even a moment to spare, he kept slamming into you, the bumps rubbing against your insides, making you feel like you were stuck in a never-ending orgasm for a moment before it did finally subside, though you could feel the cocks twitch, their movements becoming more erratic and aggressive. You tried to say something, but your throat was simply too stuffed to make any worthwhile noise.

Suddenly, you felt a hot sensation in both of your holes, almost making you gag and cry in pain, as the sheer amount of ectoplasmic seed forced its way into your womb and down your throat, spilling back into your mouth, even running down your chin. Before you could fully register what happened, you were dropped, the ghost probably leaving you to deal with the aftermath. As you lay there, the sheer amount of cum almost formed a small puddle on the ground, your fucked-out pussy leaking more as you desperately tried to swallow the remnants in your mouth.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

hello oml i luv ur writing, i’m feeling kind of angsty tonight so i wanted to request a monster trio and fem reader where they get caught cheating and then like beg for her (love when men beg!) but the reader doesn’t take them back >:0

it's the way i know these men will never cheat so i had such a hard fucking time writing this out (hence its trash) but ask and it shall be delivered (can you tell im a people pkeaser? yes or yes?)

also, so sorry it took me forever to write this out!!!

"i wish i never met you" ft. the monster trio!

ft. luffy, zoro, sanji x fem!reader

set-up: angst, thats it thankyou (thanks to anon for the idea!!)

warnings: i tried writing angst (and miserably failed), 'nuff said; also loads and loads of cursing im sorry (also couldn't write anything for sanji im so sorry)

luffy:

- "luffy?" your voice comes out as a meek whisper, blending into the night air as you see your boyfriend kissing another woman's neck in the middle of the bar - to be fair, you were on a break. you had asked him for some space but that was less than 24 hours ago and now you saw the captain of your crew entertaining a woman in his lap - "yn?" his eyes dart over to you and there's heavy guilt in his voice but you're turning away, walking away from the man you had come to win back he's running after you, his hands outstretched to catch you in your stride - "yn" he says again as he turns you to face him - a faint humming and thumping ran rampant against your cranium, visioning blurring, throat constricting till every breath felt like concrete against your burning chest - he looked guilty. the usually happy-go-lucky man seemed as though he was about to fall apart. his eyes were wide, laced with vague uncertainty and fear; his voice trembled, words faltering at the tip of his tongue as if a cursed melody - "i cannot believe you, luffy" your voice kissed your ears in a tremble as you're surprised that you can still speak, "fuck, i mean i thought you fucking loved me?" "it's not what- i do. i do, i love you." he sucks in a breath, eyes closing with great strain, "yn, its not. it's ussop, he suggested-" - ussop "suggested"???? "are you for real?" you scoff and feel the soft tears cascade down your cheeks, "ussop said shit and you decided to go fuck some random fucking woman?" - you're turning your back at him again but he pulls you towards him till your face is against his chest and his fingers interweave with your hair; you shouldn't like this. you shouldn't relish in his familiar warmth and smell and you shouldn't want to hug him when he presses a chaste kiss against your temple. you shouldn't listen to him when he says "trust me, i love you so much please" - he cheated on you, godfuckingdammit. - and he saw no problems with it till you showed up and caught him in his little fucking act. - he doesn't get to cheat on you a day after you guys went on break and then fucking have the audacity to hold you close to him as if the blood wasn't on his hands, as if he wasn't the one ruining it all. - as if he wasn't the one planning to fuck a woman tonight and return to your warm embrace tomorrow as if it never happened. - "let me go" your voice was eerily calm against his futile apologies "what? yn, no, it was a kiss i promise just one fucking ki-" "luffy, let go." - so he did - your vision blurred, your breath hitched and you walked away. you walked away from arms that had been your home on cold mornings, from eyes that traced over your face with love, from that faint smell of coconuts and a bright smile. - how can you be homesick when he was the one who wrecked it all? - but he let you go, so, you walked away.

zoro:

- somehow, you saw it all play out and now here you were, looking like the fool - fuck, how naïve were you? didn't you notice it when his touches became faint, his hands only finding yours if he had to fuck out some frustrations; his smiles became a rare occurrence. didn't you notice when he relied more on a bottle of sake than you? so fucking naïve. - you couldn't stand this party. all your friends were busy mingling with the other pirate fleet and your boyfriend had disappeared an hour into this stupid event (maybe he was passed out somewhere after drinking too much), so what were you to do except escaping into your room and spending the night away all alone? - but you could hear moaning from outside the door, faint screeches and curses. but most importantly, you could hear your own boyfriend's voice repeating the same phrases so sacred to you - opening the door with the key you had, you walked into the scene - the blood rushed into your ear and suddenly every little jolt of the sunny made you feel like you would throw up. the world swayed under your feet as you took in the tangle of limbs that lay in front of you - "zo? zoro?" "yn- fuck, what the fuck" he was frozen, the other woman covering herself in your sheets, snuggling against your boyfriend in your room. - you were gonna be fucking sick. - "yn, what are you- doing here, i-" his voice trembled, eyes darting between you and the floor, avoiding your scorching gaze. - "are you fucking kidding me?" to your surprise, a small laugh escaped you despite the shock and the dew clinging onto your lashline. you repeated, as if unaware you had already spoken once, "you have to be fuckin' kidding me, fucking christ zoro." "i can expain, ple-" he got off the bed, putting on his pants and the other woman used the opportunity to pick up her dress and slip out "explain? explain to me how you fucked that woman?" you seethed, the words lingering on your tongue like a bitter aftertaste. - his hands over his eyes, he paced around, "yn just lis-" "no fucking go ahead." the tear streaks glided past your cheek, burning as they dripped off your chin and onto the hardware flooring, "explain to me how you fucked her, did you do it the same way you fuck me? was it good? did she-" - his tone shifted, as if resentment deep within boiled to the surface, "why do you fucking care now? huh?" "why dO I CARE? ZORO CAN YOU HEAR YOURSELF? YOU FUCKED ANOTHER WOMAN RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME AND-" "AND WHAT?" his voice softened when you flinched at the sudden high tone, "and fucking what yn? i've been nothing but fucking miserable and you could barely notice" "I DID NOTICE. I DID FUCKING NOTICE AND WH-what- i tried everything. i tried to make you happy but you being miserable was enough reason for you to ch- fucking cheat on me?" your voice trembled, tears pouring down and chest heaving. - as if the gravity of the situation weighed in on his all at once, his face contorted till all he could display was sheer, stark guilt "i- fuck" he took a step towards you, arm outstretched as if to pull you towards him - but you took a step back - "yn" he whispered, "i dont know why i- fuck, why did i fucking do that? im sorry, listen to me im sorry-" "you're sorry?" you scoffed, "take that sorry and shove it up your fucking ass" - with that, you were gone. finding yourself back at the party, gulping down pint after pint of booze till you woke up with a hammering headache and a pair of foreign arms wrapped around your torso - and when you turned to look at it, you missed the familiar green locks of hair - but fuck roronoa zoro, right?

sanji:

- im so so so so so sorry but i cannot write anything for this man. if he's with you, he's down bad.

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 5)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: Mentions of reader's fictional father passing away.

Word Count: 3065

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Notes: UGH, sorry if this is shit, it doesn't feel right to me rn but i'm powering through.

_________________________________________

“I’m sorry about the other night,” you tell James when your Athletic Training Techniques class breaks to practice wrapping injuries the following Monday morning.

You don’t know why you’re apologizing for Rhysands behavior. He’s the one who should be doing the apologizing, but you can’t help the prickle of guilt that has wedged itself into your chest for the way he treated James when he so rudely interrupted your chat with his teammate at the hockey party you and Mor had attended.

Rhysand had crashed into your conversation like a F5 tornado, his violet eyes set in a glare so harsh you’d think that James Attor was his biggest rival and not one of his teammates. That stormy look on his face had only made you rage in return, utilizing the crackling irritation in your veins and wielding it like lightning, snapping at him for his disrespect.

James’ brows furrow at the pre-wrap you’re applying to his wrist. His tan hand in warm in yours as you keep it steady, and you wonder if all hockey players hands are this calloused.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he says, russet eyes flicking up to meet yours. He swings his legs softly from where he’s perched atop one of the tables. It’s cute, even more so when he shrugs innocently. “That’s captain, you don’t mess with what’s his.”

What’s his? You almost scoff but catch it just in time. “I’m not his,” you respond stiffly.

James’ cheeks turn bright red and for a moment you’re worried you’ve wrapped the athletic tape too tightly but he’s quick to blurt out his response. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I was trying to say that he told the entire team to stay away from you because you’re his cousin’s best friend, not because he, like, owns you or anything.”

And well, that’s a lot better than him insinuating that Rhys wants you all to himself, which, the longer you think about it, leaves you with a gooey feeling in the pit of your stomach. One that you’re not sure you should like given the knowledge that he warned his entire team away from you.

Yeah, that thought strikes you just as harsh the second time around, and this time, you latch onto it like a leech.

“He put a teamwide ban on me?” You almost shriek. You knew that he didn’t want you talking to his team, he made that perfectly clear to you the other night, but you had no idea that he talked to the entire damn team about you!

You ignore the glare a crimson haired girl beside you shoots you. Whatever, she should mind her own business and focus on her wrapping because that girl’s arm would be drooping like a limp noodle if it were really injured.

She breaks the stare off first and you go right back to stewing. What the hell? Rhys is acting like a total barbarian over this entire situation. It’s not like you’re related to him for fuck’s sake, you’re an accessory to his cousin, and if you want to shack up with one of his players, you will, because damn his rule. “He can’t do that! I don’t even know most of the team!”

“I think the term he actually used was banished. Or was it forbidden? I can’t remember,” James trails off thoughtfully. All you can do is gape in response, completely frozen at Rhysand’s audacity. When your partner notices the look on your face, he winces. “Maybe you could bring it up with him?”

Damn right you fucking will.

There’s a pinch between James’ brows when you continue your assignment. You’re too lost in your head, brewing over Rhysand and how he forced you to pretend to be his girlfriend the other night and the fact that he told his entire team to keep away from you. It’s embarrassing to say the least.

You’re so stuck in your head that you don’t notice that you’ve pulled the tape too tight around James’ arm. He’s trying to stick a finger under your work, tugging at the bandage to get his blood flowing again. You huff and begin to unwrap, letting the news fall off your shoulders for now with a heavy exhale. “Sorry,” you mutter.

A twinge of guilt hits you. Here you are, dragging poor James into another awkward position that has nothing to do with him and everything to do with his pig-headed captain.

You have half a mind to tug your phone out of your pocket and send chew Rhys out over text. He’d given his number to you after your first tutoring session so that you could set up the next one since you were in much too of a mood after running into Amarantha and giving you the ultimatum that made your view of him go from hot and gentlemanly to hot and an absolute fucking douchebag.

And this has certainly not helped his case.

It doesn’t take long to make up a plan for yourself. You’re going to stay far, far away from the hockey house from now on. You won’t be attending any more games, no matter how much Mor begs. And you’re going to email your psychology professor about finding a replacement tutor.

If Rhysand doesn’t want you around his team, you’ll make sure that the message was well received.

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m distracting you,” James says, and before you can respond, he holds a hand up, halting you. It looks silly because his hand is wrapped stiffly with your handiwork, and the both of you crack smiles at the sight.

“How does it feel now?” You ask, examining his arm. It looks good, and as you poke a prod, you think it’s tight enough, but you want a second opinion before your professor comes over to evaluate.

James twists his arm this way and that, tries to bend his wrist to feel the tension. He looks impressed, and a surge of pride overtakes the lingering irritation. “Feels good. You’re a natural at this.”

Your cheeks heat at the compliment. “Thanks, James.”

Professor Maeve makes her rounds, and echoes a job well done when she reaches your table. With a soft smile, she continues to the crimson witch beside you, and you try your very best to keep your face neutral when the professor critiques her work. You tuck your lips carefully between your teeth and switch positions with your partner.

“You know,” James says as he begins wrapping your wrist. “The hockey team’s athletic training student graduated last year and the positions open. I don’t have much sway with the coach, but if you want it, I can put in a good word for you.”

He says it like it’s no big deal. Like you haven’t been banned from interacting with any of the hockey players. Like they haven’t been warned away either.

You stare at James in confusion, until he lifts his head, and you notice the cheeky grin on his face, the glint in his amber eyes. If you’re willing to play with the captain a little bit, he’ll take your side.

And fuck do you want to stick it to Rhys right about now.

“I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard all week, James.”

“You know it.”

You come out of your psychology quiz feeling light.

You may not have scored a perfect hundred, but you have a feeling that you did a lot better than you have been doing thus far in the semester, and reluctantly, you have Rhysand to thank for it.

The both of you had spent Wednesday night studying in the library. You hadn’t brought up the ban, much too tired to deal with him more than you had to. He’d shot you a look of confusion when you immediately tucked into his notes and study guides without an utterance of a sarcastic remark. It had been the longest day of the semester so far, as you played catch up in psych while he worked on a paper for an astronomy class he was taking as an elective.

You don’t know what surprised you more, that he’s as nearly as good with astronomy from what you’d read of his paper, or how he managed to stay so on top of everything in his life. He’s an excellent student, excelling in all his classes, whilst being caption of the hockey team, and a tutor? You don’t know how he finds the time for all of it, because just the idea of adding anything more into your courseload this semester makes you want to melt into the floor.

But you will be, because you’re determined for the spot as the hockey teams athletic training intern.

Rhysand doesn’t have a clue, and it takes more effort than you thought it would not to blurt it out just to see the look on his face. James has been a tremendous help, setting a meeting time with his coach to meet with you at the beginning of next week. Apparently, coach Devlin cares a lot about his team. He might be harsh on you at first, James had advised, but he’ll warm up to you quickly. I think everyone will.

And well, you didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Hi honey,” your mom greets when you call her on your way back from class. It’s a brisk day on campus, and you’re cuddled in a bright orange sweater because it was the least you could do to celebrate Halloween. Students all around are either dressed to the T or in their normal garb, saving their costumes for when the night falls and they can really show out.

“Hi, mom,” you respond, biting back a laugh at a particularly funny costume. It’s one of those blow-up ones that you’re sure would not be a fan favorite in a lecture of a hundred students. It’s shaped like an alien stealing a poor human, and you’re thankful you don’t have any classes with him because sitting behind that would not be fun.

You wonder if he might be in Rhysand’s astronomy class, and debate snapping a photo to send his way, questioning his stance on aliens.

“How are you? How are classes going?”

“Good, mom, everything’s good,” you say, and it’s almost the truth.

Your mother keeps a very busy schedule and has since you were twelve, when your father suddenly passed. As her way of coping, she threw herself into her work, giving it more than 110%, and in return, she was promoted. Now, she spends most of the year traveling across the country to visit and meet with different suppliers for her company.

Usually, you’re fine with it, because she’s trying her best and you’re in college, but when you do have the rare time off for holidays and breaks, sometimes your schedules don’t quite align.

Which you know is the bad news about to come from the other side of the phone as soon she sighs heavily.

“What is it this time?” You grouse, and the good mood you’d been in after taking your quiz plummets. “No time off for parent’s weekend? No winter break this year?”

She says your name in a scolding manner. There’s a tinge of regret that you know she doesn’t expect you to pick up on, but it’s been the two of you for so long that you don’t even need to see her face to tell that she’s as sad as you are about the news. “It’s not Christmas. It’s Thanksgiving. They’re sending me over to London for a convention. I’d love for you to join me but—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you reply solemnly. “Not enough time off.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie. But I promise I’ll see you for winter break. I’ll make it up to you then, and I’ll even pick you up from the airport personally.”

You have no doubt about that. Your mother spoils you, even if she isn’t the one doing the actual shopping. You love that she’s so important to her company and that she adores her job, it’s what you’re striving for too, but sometimes you wish she was around more, to give your life advice and rant to her about boys and class and anything. You spend more time talking to her voicemail than you do her.

“That sounds good.” You swallow around the lump in your throat. Tears sting the back of your eyes because you really were looking forward to seeing your mom. You haven’t seen her in months. She’d been halfway across the world when you left for college, and it had felt weird packing in your empty home and leaving it with one last longing look over your shoulder, with the memories of a happy family growing up there turned silent and eerie. “What do they have you doing instead?” You ask to be polite.

Your phone buzzes in your hand and you pull the device away from your face to check the incoming message. You’re not really paying attention to your mother’s rambling anyway, and all you really want to do is hang up on her for the sour knot she’s unknowingly put in your stomach.

Rhysand: How did it go?

You ignore the warmth that fills your chilled veins at his thoughtfulness. You’d mentioned in passing when your quiz was, and you certainly didn’t expect him to remember this on top of all the other things he has going on in his busy schedule right now.

You: Pretty sure I aced that shit.

His response comes much faster than you expected it to, especially considering you know he’s about to walk into the arena for practice. You wonder if he’s going to dress up for the party at the hockey house Mor is dragging you to, or if he’s going to be sporting something lame like wearing his jersey.

Yes, you told yourself you wouldn’t step foot in that house again, but it’s Halloween, and Mor is way more persuasive than you ever gave her credit for.

Plus, if you’re near Rhysand, it’ll be much easier to get back at him for your ban.

Rhysand: Is that so?

You bite back your amusement, typing a reply.

You: So it may not have been a 100, but I’m pretty sure it was an 85% or higher.

Rhysand: Pretty sure? I guess we’ll have to study harder so next time you’re 100% sure you’ve aced it.

You don’t know why you like the sound of that so much, but his words are encouraging, a nice change from the way your mom’s shouting spills from your speaker, snapping you back to attention.

“Sorry, mom,” you apologize, “I just remembered that I’m late for a study group. I’ll see you for winter break, okay? I love you.”

She makes a noise that’s somewhere halfway between unimpressed and amused. “Okay sweetie. Study up and stay safe tonight, okay? Happy Halloween.”

“Happy Halloween. Bye, mom. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she says, and you end the call, refocusing your attention on your phone.

You: Sounds like a plan, cap.

Rhysand: Cap? Not sure I like you calling me that, if I’m being honest.

You: Why? Because I’m not allowed to talk to hockey players? Which, by means that I shouldn’t be talking to you either, right?

You shouldn’t snap, especially since you’re going to have the pleasure of being around him and can chew him out tonight, but you can’t help yourself.

Rhysand: Ugh, I’m never going to live that down, am I?

You: Not a chance.

Rhysand: How about I make it up to you? You’re coming tonight, right?

He replies to his own message before you can even answer.

Rhysand: Of course you are. It’s going to be the hottest party on campus. Why did I bother asking?

You: WOW! This tops the cake on being full of yourself, I think.

You: But if you were wanting to make it up to me…what that might look like?

You don’t realize just how much you look like another one of his simpering conquests until you catch yourself in the reflection of the door to your dorm building. A cheesy smile on your face, head stuck in your phone, oblivious to everything around you.

Jesus, get it together, girl.

You mentally scold yourself, but when your phone buzzes again, all of that is lost to the ether, and you too, diving back into your phone.

Rhysand: It might look long and hard, around eight inches I’d guess.

You choke. Eight inches? There’s no way.

While you work out the schematics of how that works with anyone, Rhysand sends a follow up.

Rhysand: I can tell you’re thinking about it. If you ask nicely, I’d be more than happy to show you. ;)

You can’t help but scoff. Where does he get off? You’d ask, but you know he’d have another cheeky response to the question.

You can’t believe this is how he messages you. This is less than professional, but you have already felt his hard body beneath yours, and how nicely you fit under his arm. It’s not difficult to picture how he might be in bed.

But he’s sworn you off! And now he’s flirting with you like he didn’t enforce those laws when he caught you speaking to James at their last party.

This boy is making your head spin.

You punch the button to call the elevator, mulling over how to respond. Maybe no response is the best response? You can’t help but feel a little fuzzy at his sweet words, and the thought sours when you realize that he’s probably talking to a multitude of women the same way. You’re not sure you want to go to the party anymore by the time you reach your dorm, not even for your revenge, because there’s no way you want to see any other girls draped all over him all night, but when you open your door, you step into chaos.

The chaos being, your roommate Mor with costumes strewn about the living room, with a wild grin on her face and a tired looking Gwyn trying to hide beneath a pile of fabric on the couch.

“Happy Halloween, bitch! It’s party time!”

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @judig92 @se7enteen--black-blog @thecraziestcrayon @cherry-cin @itsinherited @justafictionalnerd @bookishbroadwaybish @405rry @itsinherited

[thesecretwriter]

LOVED the fanfic about Miguel. I need one with him being feral at the thought of wife!reader leaving him because he is being neglectful and is almost never home with her. Please, please, pleaseeee. I would love to read this.

P.S add smut if you want to😗

home is where you are (part 1) - miguel o’hara

pairing: miguel o’hara x wife!female reader

warnings: angst – reader tells miguel she needs a break from his absence, fluff – I think is it?? , smut – minors dni. smutty undertones, no smut described but miguel is being suggestive.

summary: in which y/n, wife of Miguel O’hara finds herself spending more time in an empty apartment that in the company of the man she chose to spend the rest of her life with.

word count: 1.4k

a/n: thank you for the request anon, I enjoyed writing it. I didn’t write smut bc the fic was already long and I am a bit tired, butttt maybe a part 2??

minors/ageless blogs dni.

masterlists  

part 1, part 2, part 3

"I’m home, mi luz,"

The nickname he has reserved for you tugs at your heart. He explained to you that you were the light in the darkness that consumed his heart within the chaos of being Spiderman.

You look in the direction of Miguel's voice and sigh "well, that's a first," you mutter to yourself before getting off the couch walking towards Miguel.

You had spent the whole day rehearsing what you were going to say to Miguel.

You lean against the counter as Miguel leaves the packet with a logo from a Chinese take away not far from your shared apartment.

Miguel approaches you, his eyes dark and intense. His expression is unreadable, but you can feel a sense of discomfort growing within you.

"Did you miss me mi corazón?" he asks in a low voice, his eyes scanning your body as he comes closer to you.

"Well, for me to answer that question you would have to be around enough for me to miss you. So, no I did not miss you," you say, upset that he had the audacity to question if you miss him when he is not even at home most of the time.

You stay where you are leaning against the counter with your arms folded. Miguel takes this as an opportunity to cage you between his arms as he towers over you.

His eyes are fixed on you. He leans forward till he is a few centimetres away from you.

"You know that's not true mi luz. You miss me. And I miss you too, baby. I've been thinking a lot about you all day." he says, his tone suggestive and a glint of desire in his eyes.

"If you were thinking of me so much, then maybe you would be home more often. I've been wanting to talk to you about something..." you trail off nervous and avoiding eye contact with him. Miguel picks up the change of your attitude and tilts his head to the side in curiosity.

Any other day you would think that it was adorable of him to do such a thing, but now it ticked you off that he was so oblivious.

Miguel notices your nervousness and his expression turns serious. "What is it? What do you want to talk about, y/n?" he asks, his voice firm. The use of your first name is your first warning of Miguel being serious.

He is still leaning in close to you, however, you can now tell that he is tense from your nervousness.

"I want to take some time off... from us," you blurt out, wanting to get this conversation over with. Miguel takes in your words.

You want to take a break from him? the one who has the weight of the world on his shoulders. His brows furrow in confusion, but also anger.

Miguel moves closer to you, his body now pressed against yours. He leans in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"Why would you want to do that, mi vida? Don't you know how much I love you?" he whispers, his lips dangerously close to your skin.

His taunting is what gets to you. Here you are trying to tell him what you needed, and he is retaliating by trying to seduce you.

"I don't feel your love anymore Miguel. You're barely home. I wake up, you're not here. I go to sleep, you're not here. Sometimes you even leave in the middle of night when I'm asleep. I understand that the spider society is important to you, but once upon a time so was this relationship. I cannot keep living like this by having moments with you." you say, getting angrier as you speak.

Miguel notices the unshed tears in your eyes.

Miguel's expression softens for a moment as he looks into your eyes, seeing the pain and tears hidden behind them.

He knows he's been distant lately, but that's all because he's been putting in more time fighting crime around the city as Spiderman and travelling to other dimensions to help other Spider-Man/women.

"I'm sorry, mi luz. I promise to make it up to you. I'll take some time off, for just the two of us." he says, his voice sincere as he tries to reason with you.

"And then what? while we're spending time together, you'll get called into HQ and will leave me alone. It’s happened before Miguel. I already packed enough clothes for me to spend a week with at a friend’s house," You put your hands on his chest to push him away and go to get your phone to call your friend to pick you up.

Miguel feels his chest tighten at the thought of having you away from him. You're slipping through his fingers, and he must do something about it before he loses you completely.

Miguel takes a step forward, blocking your path to the phone. His eyes flash with anger.

"You're not going anywhere, y/n. You're delusional if you think I'm just going to sit back and let you leave me. We're married, you made a vow to me. Do you know how hard I've been working to protect this city and the people in it? Do you have any idea how much pressure I'm under?" he says, his voice rising in frustration.

Before you can respond, he grabs your wrist and pulls you towards him. He presses himself against you, his hands roaming over your body as he begins to kiss you. You try to resist and push him away, but he's too strong. He continues to kiss you until you finally give in, allowing him to lead you to the bedroom.

You pour all your emotion into the kiss, letting him feel the heartbreak and anguish you have every time he forgets about you.

You're too consumed in the kiss to notice that Miguel is already beginning to take off his clothes. He breaks the kiss to take of your shirt and you see that as an opportunity to interrupt him.

"Miguel stop, not everything can be fixed with-" his lips stop you from speaking as he goes back to kissing you. All you're left in is your bra and panties, which Miguel still feels is too much of clothing.

You feel his lips trailing kisses down your neck as his palms knead at your breasts. His talons poking you ever so lightly, but it’s nothing you haven't felt before.

Your moans only urge Miguel on. He thinks back to the moment he saw the unshed tears in your eyes, the moment you almost left him.

Soon, he comes to the revelation that the only way to keep you here, with him - is to breed you.

It's something you and him have previously discussed. However, with him being away so much, it slipped his mind how he wanted nothing more than to watch you bare his child.

Miguel continues to kiss you passionately, his touch becoming rougher as he begins to undress you completely. He pins you down on the bed, his muscles exposed in the dimly lit room. You can see the taut muscles in his arms as he looms over you.

"Don't fight it, mi luz. I'm giving you what you've always wanted from me," he says, his voice low and husky.

Miguel continues to hold you down and have his way with you. You can't bring yourself to fight resist him anymore, your lips move with his and you feel the spark that is always present within you when Miguel kisses you.

For a moment, you see a glimpse of the caring and loving man you married. He is still there, underneath all the coldness that has consumed him.

[sillygoofyqueer]

Ooh, for Shen Yuan’s looks I was thinking a black, blue and silver theme, to Bing-ge’s black, red and gold.

(You can’t tell me emperor Bing-ge, also the Huan Hua Palace master, doesn’t have at least some gold in his formal outfits).

If you look at crow feathers, they have a sort of blue sheen in the right lighting, so blue would be quite fitting!

I also like the idea of his hair being mostly elegant and classy, but with some cute little braids that include colored threads weaved in them, plus shiny bobbles and feathers hanging off the ends. The braids are from his crow family members. It’s a traditional grooming practice!

Anon I am MADLY in love with you. We're going to high five and hug and frolic in the fields together if I ever find out who you are. The idea of little braids being in otherwise elegant hair really fits with my perception of "mainly classy Shen Yuan until his bird instincts kick in (he's also a little gremlin before that)", because he obviously wants to keep his hair neat and presentable but he also has the natural instinct to let people braid his hair to show affection! (Definitely have to have a wholesome little scene where Shen Yuan shows Bing-ge how to braid his hair in the traditional fashion). I love the idea of shiny things being in his hair as well, through shiny beads and threads. BONUS POINTS if he has a shiny little thing that holds his hair up and counts as a little dagger (gifted by one of the others in the crow family as a precaution. Can also be traditional for those who come of a certain age!) On another note, thinking about Shen Yuan in half human form. He retains his wings and I like to think he has spatterings of feathers crawling up his spine and the back of his neck, around the edges of his cheeks maybe? He looks mainly human, but I'd find it cool if he still had those little patches of feathers (like when you see patches of scales on a dragon-shifter type character)

Oh, this is so fun. I've always loved a protective family, and I love Bing-ge being struck by the audacity of the crow family and also jealousy because nobody ever acts like this about him!! His wives do, he supposes, but that's for their own selfish reasons! They don't really care about him like the crow family cares for Shen Yuan. The crow family is only not attacking him because Shen Yuan has said that it's "not cool" to attack the emperor, or whatever. Corvids can mimic that stuff?? Oh my god, the ANTICS! Shen Yuan would totally use it to mess with people when he's bored, jumpscaring people and having fun with story time for the kids. He would also use it when stealing, so that he doesn't have to needlessly hurt anyone to get to the shiny thing he covets, the human side of him holding him back. I'd find it super funny that when the crows (cultivating or not) meet Bing-ge, a few start spurting out every curse they've ever heard from humans, and Shen Yuan has to explain that they're mimicking what they hear people say, they don't mean it! (probably-) {part five! Part one, part two, part three, part four, part six, part seven!!}

[rhiannonsknife]

https://x.com/femmeflix/status/1852896350481825792?s=46&t=PsXAfTCJv59FchQIdn66aA

I’ve been obsessed with Jackie/your Jackie fics and thoughts lately.

This with Jackie in the wilderness though..? Maybe an AU where she never died and find excuses to keep you “warm at night” in winter? You’re in the farthest corner of the cabin when she starts grinding against you softly. The others are asleep but you still have to be quiet, silently sighing into the other’s mouth as you get each other off…

-🪩

thank you 🪩 anon!! i probably added way too much background lore, but i hope this is what you had in mind <3 nsfw below so: mdni!

i feel like, unlike shauna, jackie would not be so in denial about how touch starved she is. i think she’s well aware that she needs somebody’s comfort, yet ever since doomcoming, she and shauna have not spoken properly and she won’t even look in travis’ direction.

it wasn’t just the betrayal itself, you think, without ever saying it out loud, it was the audacity of it. now, every time jackie glanced at shauna, all she could see was the life she used to have, the life she had taken away piece by piece: her boyfriend, her best friend, her sense of control. nobody is ever calling it by name in spite of the elephant (shauna’s bump) in the room.

jackie hadn’t acknowledged the pregnancy out loud, yet the unspoken tension hangs in the air whenever they are forced to share space, impacting all of you.

the more time passes, the colder everyone gets.

except for tai and van, the rest of the team has sort of neglected the need for physical touch and closeness. without anyone around that you’d be comfortable enough with to ask for a simple hug, you try to do the same as everyone else. only at night, with the others fast asleep, you ever dare to wrap your arms around yourself, picturing it’s someone else holding you.

you won’t let it show to the others, though, not wanting to be the first to break under the current circumstances.

turns out you don’t have to wait too long for someone else to be in a similar position: jackie had been the one to lose it from the start. sure, you’d all been terrified, but out of all the girls, jackie had been the most stubborn when it came to her chores out here.

she’d always been the one least likely to adapt to any of this: to the wilderness, to the cold, to the isolation that gnawed at all of you. she wasn’t built for this life, and everyone knew it, including her. but jackie wasn’t one to let people see her break easily: the same jackie who once thrived on attention now barely spoke, her haughty attitude replaced by something more brittle.

it had only been a matter of time before this facade cracked.

you’d seen her unraveling slowly. the way she avoided shauna, the way she avoided everyone, really. how she snapped at taissa for trying to delegate chores or rolled her eyes at nat’s attempts to hunt. she’s so desperate to seem untouchable, but it is clear to you that jackie’s just lost. and hurt.

and then came the nightmares, too.

you start to wake at night to the sound of her gasping, a sharp cry muffled into the blanket she clutches around her. she must’ve shot up, her breaths coming fast and shallow, and for a moment, you think she might wake everyone else. but the others keep sleeping, too used to the sounds of restless nights to stir. that’s how it starts because you -unsure of what else to do- only reach out and put a hand on her shoulder. jackie flinches, not expecting anyone else to be up at this time. you two never talk about it afterwards but you feel the way she instantly melts into your touch.

that small gesture is what makes you realize how much you’ve missed being close to another person.

after this, it is like a switch has been flipped: jackie is fixated on always lingering in your presence, eager for any kind of touch she can get, whether it’s a brush of hands, her palm to your back, or sitting shoulder to shoulder. she even picks up certain chores just to be near you. whether it is a desperate attempt for proximity and closeness or a real crush that’ll keep on growing beyond this place where you’re stuck, it feels nice to be wanted like this.

one of these nights, with the cabin quiet and the air heavy with the sound of soft snores and the occasional crackle of the dying fire, jackie takes things one step further.

everyone else is huddled together for warmth, but in the farthest corner of the room, it’s just you. or at least it was, until jackie had slipped down beside you, her breath visible in the freezing air as she sits close -closer than she needs to.

she whispers, careful not to wake the others, “it’s freezing. you’re practically an icicle over here,“ she hesitates, her hands tugging at her blanket as if trying to decide what to say next. after another moment, she ventures, “i don’t know how you’re even handling it. i feel like my fingers might fall off any second”

her eyes flicker to yours, searching for something. permission, maybe, to come even closer than she already is. “you know,” she says lightly, almost offhand, “it’d probably be warmer if we shared. not that anyone would care… or even notice.”

she doesn’t press it further, leaving the idea hanging between you. sure, the two of you have shared your moments before, but you certainly hadn’t spent the night cuddling yet.

the silence stretches out, her gaze darting to yours again, waiting for any sign. and then you shift, just a little, leaning closer, not quite touching but enough to give her what she needs. the corner of her mouth twitches, and without a word, she slides her blanket open, wrapping it around the both of you as she settles closer.

jackie voice is barely above a whisper, the words brushing against your ear. “this is okay…right?”

you nod, softly, knowing she’ll see from where she’s curled up against you from behind. like this, the two of you lie in silence for a good while. you know jackie is awake still: you can feel the way she occasionally shifts, or how her breathing won’t still in a way that it would if she was asleep.

it’s strange, how natural this feels: being this close to someone, so comfortably tangled together after such a long time. a part of you had forgotten how it would feel. another part, the one that’s been falling in love with jackie taylor long before your plane crashed, longs to have her even closer and tries its very hardest not to allow your mind to wander…

jackie, on the other hand, hasn’t felt this close to any of the other girls either. without thinking, her hand moves of its own accord, around you to rest on your stomach. her fingers are cold, even through your layers of clothing. she brushes them lightly over your skin, the touch gentle. you audibly gulp, but let her.

after another moment, you are finally brave enough to shift. you lift yourself up and adjust until you’re facing her. jackie’s hand remains on the dip of your waist underneath the blanket.

your bodies are flush against each other, your breaths mingling in the sliver of air between you. jackie’s eyes widen a fraction as you turn, her hand instinctively tightening its grip on your waist. the shift in your position has brought you even closer together.

her hand slides further, fingertips tracing over the shape of your hip. “you’re still cold,” she murmurs, her voice low and hushed in the quiet cabin. her eyes rake over you, her gaze lingering over the curve of your lips.

“it is cold in here” you point out, shivering at the realization of her wandering eyes. jackie isn’t exactly subtle about it either. after all, there’s not much she’s ever wanted that she didn’t get.

her touch is moving from your hip down to the curve of your thigh. her fingers dance over the fabric of your pants underneath the blanket. she’s still fixated on your mouth, her breath hitching as she sees the way you shiver under her gaze.

jackie leans in a little closer when she feels the way your legs fall open under her hands, her lips nearly brushing against your ear as she whispers, “you know, i think i’ve got a few more ways i could help warm you up…” her hand moves again, sliding further up your thigh.

it’s pathetic, really. it’s a desperate attempt to cling to normality. to feel wanted in spite of everything. it’s a short moment in the terrors of the wilderness that she won’t speak about in the morning. but, fuck it, you’re willing to take it.

your breath hitches in your throat when jackie’s hand inches up your leg, a small noise slipping from your lips. immediately, jackie hushes you.

“sh” she says, eyes darting to where the others are fast asleep. “we have to be quiet” and with that, your last restraints are gone. it only confirms what jackie is up to right now -if it hadn’t been clear yet, it certainly is now. and while you know, rationally, that this is a bad idea, the need to feel someone’s touch is too strong for you to neglect it any longer: awkward attempts of trying to get off under the covers whilst everyone else sleeps are clearly not doing enough for you.

at least jackie seems to be on the same page.

you both shift and adjust against each other. it’s a little clumsy, and it takes a moment to find a good position, but it’s driven by the need for something you’ve both been craving, so you make it work. before you know it, jackie lingers above you in a way that has her center pressing against your own under the sheets.

she exhales a shuddered breath and your hands jump up to hold her hips. your eyes are wide as you stare up at her, partly in disbelief that this is happening, mostly because you can’t believe that jackie wants you like this.

jackie leans in, not kissing you yet, but with her arms bracing her weight on either side of your head, caging you in. her eyes are dark, her gaze flickering over your features in a way that makes your stomach flip.

beneath the covers, her legs shift, her body pushing further into yours, grinding against you for the first time, in a way that is deliberate and calculated. her breath stutters, her voice hoarse as she speaks, “you’ve gotta be-” she gasps, and bites her lip, resisting the moan that threatens to escape. “quiet”

oh, how you wish you could’ve met her under different circumstances. how you wish jackie could’ve wanted you like this all the way back home, so you could’ve heard the way she sounds when she’s moving on top of you.

when you finally come back to your senses, you decide to make the most of this opportunity. holding her hips a little tighter, you lift your own from the ground to meet her halfway.

jackie, who’s only ever known sex to be something merely mediocre, is surprised that grinding against you (fully clothed, and in a room full of sleeping people that prevent you from going all the way) is already better than anything she’s ever had.

she shivers as you take the initiative, matching her movements with a gasp that she barely manages to bite back. she arches into you, her body moving steadily now.

her hands slide up your sides, fingers slipping under the edge of your shirt to feel the warm skin of your stomach. she leans in, her breath a shaky, quiet: “god, yes…just like that…”

you can feel your own underwear, clinging to your arousal which is growing exponentially at this rate. there’s no way you’ll last long like this, not when you’re embarrassingly close to creaming your pants just from watching her. each of your movements is mirrored by one of hers, until you’ve found a good rhythm to grind against the other. at some point, jackie’s body goes slack and she drops forward. you instantly hold her to your chest as she keeps rutting against you, moaning the faintest little “ah, ah, ah” sounds into your ear.

the friction between you spikes, both of you desperate and greedy for more connection. your hips keep meeting in a slow, steady rhythm, both pushing and pulling each other into deeper contact.

her hands are still wandering over your body, exploring every inch of your skin she can reach through the clothing that’s supposed to keep you warm but is severely restricting right now.

she draws you closer, her mouth by your ear, her voice a low, husky whisper, “i want you…i want you so badly…” she whispers. whether jackie means it or not, it works on you.

“don’t stop” you tell her, rocking into her equally desperately. at this point you can only pray that no one will hear the creaking floor boards. the sheets are a tangled mess around the two of you, the covers having slipped down to her waist as the heat between you escalates.

“jackie” you whisper, hoping the urgency to your tone will get the message across. judging by the way she nods erratically, that seems to be the case.

“yeah” she says, bobbing her head still. “yeah, me too”

you, embarrassed as you are, cum first. it’s quiet, your lips parted in a silent scream as jackie’s constant rocking sends you stumbling over the edge you’ve been toeing since she began straddling you. she watches you fall apart beneath her, not once slowing down or stopping altogether, determined to make herself cum too.

her eyes flutter and she struggles to keep her breathing steady as her hold on you tightens. “don’t- don’t you dare stop-“ she hisses, your pleasure not yet ebbing by the time she follows. jackie is beautiful, obviously, but you’ve never seen something that could ever compare to her when she makes herself come against you: her head falls back and her eyes close tightly. she’s biting her lower lip so harshly she could be drawing blood for the sake of not being too loud.

finally, after her body has gone tense for a couple of seconds, jackie slumps against you. she’s panting right into your ear, unable to speak as her orgasm washes over her. you can feel her thighs trembling around yours as she recovers.

for a few moments, the only sound in the room is the ragged breathing of the two of you as the silence hangs heavy in the air. the cabin is quiet, the rest of the team blissfully unaware of what just happened a few feet away.

“holy shit” you finally breathe, unsure of what else to do or say. thankfully, jackie doesn’t move away like a part of you had anticipated. she stays right there, on top of you, giving you the courage to hesitantly wrap your arms around her and hold her to your chest.

if you don't move, you'll fall asleep like this and the others will have plenty of questions in the morning. still, neither of you has got the strength to get up, to move away from the heat you're providing. your eyes grow heavy before you know it. it's the first night of good sleep in a long time.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hello lovely sex witch!!

I'm having a slightly complicated situation with a friend which is both too long to explain and also not your neck of the woods, but tldr; I think we might be vearing into the friends with benefits lane and I'm actually super cool with that if he's down. I'm obviously gonna talk to him about it to clarify what we both want out of it, but I'm wondering if you have any tips on how to negotiate the divide between.. "communicate everything beforehand" and "spontaneous sexy fun". Because the other day, shortly after he told me he'd be "down to have something, just not necessarily a relationship", we were WAY touchier/cuddlier than usual and were SO close to kissing multiple times, I was almost in his lap twice ... But no true moves were made. I don't want to cross boundaries and assume anything and ruin it all by running headlong into this, but on the other hand I kind of feel like he's waiting for me to make a move first and want to lean into that fun spontaneous sexy direction because !! This doesn't have to be super deep!

(the fact that this is both of our first (potentially) sexual relationship may or may not have an influence in your answer, just an extra detail)

Anyway, thanks in advance, your posts have really helped me re-evaluate my relationship with sex in general and it's because of you that I'm honestly even in a place to see where this will take me <333 very excited regardless, just figured I'd call in to see if you had any tips

hi anon,

I'm gonna be so real with you. the audacity of opening your question by saying "this is too long to explain and probably not your area" and then sending it anyway is egregious and I was extremely tempted to just delete this, but fortunately (for your query) this is a question that's not only easy to answer but important to address, so here we go:

you are creating a dichotomy that doesn't exist.

the options aren't "sex that's carefully pre-negotiated with a lawyer and legally binding paperwork" or "horny animal sex with no communication at all." planning things out beforehand can be great (and it's nonnegotiable, if you ever find yourself exploring BDSM) but you can navigate consent in the moment just as well.

"I feel like I'm picking up a vibe right now; do you want to kiss?"

"you can touch me here, if you want; I'd really like it."

"do you want to have sex?"

"does this feel good? are you comfortable?"

"I need to move to a different position, let's try this way."

"is there anywhere you don't want me to touch?"

"that was really fun, should we talk about making sex a regular thing? what would you want from that?"

it's just talking dude! you just gotta talk about it!

[saleeba]

heat ; ronald araújo & jules koundé

summary ♡ upon hearing a request of yours, your boyfriend is quick to make the wish come true.

pairing ♡ ronald araújo x fem!reader x jules koundé / ronald araújo x fem!reader, jules koundé x fem!reader

content ♡ 18+, smut, reader is in an established relationship with araújo, threesome, p in v, blowjob, double penetration (is that the phrase…? both ends are involved is what i’m trying to say 😭), protected sex (we stan responsibility!), mentions of alcohol consumption, y/n calls the shots around here but also sub!reader / dom!footballers, teeny belly bulging, open relationship vibes ??, no aftercare sowwyyy

a/n ♡ merry euros final day, ya filthy animals !! :D this was requested by a lovely anon who’s been waiting for my slow ass to upload so i hope they enjoy it !! 🥰💙 i haven’t written in quite a while so pls excuse me if this is rusty and stiff… kept it quite short to get me back into the swing of things <33

fumes of filthy musk and heady leather, countless articles of clothing strewn about the place, the temperature unnatural for the amount of work the air conditioning was doing; that was the state of the hotel room where you had ended up with your boyfriend and, what can only be called, your newly-appointed lover. a night of stolen glances and sly touches led the three of you here, scheming whispers from your dark-painted lips into your boyfriend’s burning ears—hot from the pounding music and the ghosting softness of your mouth—spilling the desires that you’d tried so hard to keep to yourself for months on end now. at first, ronald believed it was the talk of the tequila causing you to say all this, for you to be so forward and shameless in what you’d let him and his teammate do to you could be nothing else but liquid courage, but a look into your eyes told a different story. they were clear and determined, not at all teary and pinkish around the edges like ronald had become accustomed to when you would go overboard with the alcohol. no, not like that at all. 

your boyfriend would be a fool to even act surprised at your feelings towards his french friend. compliments to, and away from, jules’ face got bolder and bolder as you spent more time with the team’s defender, and ronald didn’t miss the way your fingers would always find some way to land themselves on jules’ bicep. you made no effort to hide the way you enjoyed the bulging muscle under your tight grasp in front of either man and your man certainly made no effort to stop your actions, the heat under his collar and tightness of his trousers confirming his true feelings.

at the end-of-season party, you told your boyfriend of your master plan — how you intended your night to end with the company of two men in your bed, pulses set alit by previous activities and the question of how far the three of you could take this new relation a quietly thumping matter in the backdrop of it all. you would have ronald claim to be exhausted from the night’s shenanigans, fall prey to the jeers and jabs from the younger boys over how he can’t handle this much excitement and slip away to the hotel room the two of you had booked just in case. ronald doesn’t forget to take a swig of, what’s to him, liquid audacity to set him up for the night. from there, you’d stay, under the pretence that you wanted to hang with the girls a bit more, and work the same charm on the french boy, hushed promises of what the night could look like for him if he gave in to his yearnings spilling from your lips. tall tales from jules that he had to be home early in order to be on the first flight back to france to see friends the next morning plus a perfectly acted-out scene from you asking him to drop you off helped seal your exits, scrambling into jules’ car where you sit in the back seat, fearful of what accident you may cause if you were any closer to him.

the same rushed manner can’t help but be continued out of the car, into the hotel lift and past the door to your shared room, lips pressed hungrily against each other in such a blur that you had no recollection of where or when the two of you had begun to do so. urgent kisses turned to needy tugs of jules’ shirt and your black minidress as the commotion of your heels and jules’ heavy feet caused your boyfriend to appear from the ensuite.

“not starting without me, are you?”

*** 

you had no idea when the hour turned from eleven to three but there was no way you were ready to bid the night adieu. not when the pressing of the two cocks in front of and behind you electrified the very veins under your skin, the prickling anticipation nearly leaving you quivering on your hands and knees, despite having gone multiple rounds since the three of you bundled in on that bed.

“tired yet, baby?” in front of you, your boyfriend’s voice came hoarse but assured; a little taunt to it to test your daring. you shook your head in a determined fashion but the rapidness of it came across as the tiniest bit desperate, both men laughing in response at how far you could go without faltering.

behind you stood the object of your desires for the night, skin sweat-drenched and glowing under the warm lighting of the hotel room, chest still slightly heaving from all the action prior to this tiny break — if that was what you could call the intermission in which your boyfriend and his friend manhandled you into this position, ready for the taking by the both of them. 

a sudden small chorus of huffs started behind you, your ears pricking up as you diverted your eyes to where ronald towered above you, grinning ever so slightly at the scene behind you and directly in front of him. you didn’t need to look back to see what was going on, it was that obvious. jules, in perhaps an act of impatience or sheer lust from the sight of you below him, had a wrist wrapped around his hardened length, the push and pull of it up and down giving centre stage to the squelching noises left over from when he had his digits enveloped inside the wetness of you – when he was only allowed his digits inside of you. the sound of your juices on his cock and his small moans had you clenching around air, an involuntary–no, reflexive–wiggle of your ass letting the men know how you felt about it.

a comment from ronald telling jules that they’d better get on with it had you both wanting to scream ‘just do it already!’ and licking your swollen lips in anticipatory delight. no other words were exchanged before you felt the push of jules’ cock past your sopping folds, a guttural sound bubbling from your lungs at this new angle, one that felt infinitely deeper as he slid in, seeming so endless in length. the arching of your back mimicked the depth of his cock rocking in and out of you, a near-perfect u-shape for jules to run his hands over.

“good girl.” your boyfriend praised, a gentle rubbing of your cheek to complement. “so good for us, isn’t she, jules?”

your french lover failed to respond in any other way than groaning incoherently, the tightness of your pussy around him restricting his words all the same, trying to concentrate on setting a pace that allowed for your enjoyment and relied on him not getting too excited.

his uruguayan counterpart decided to step in, a tap of his dick on the same cheek he was so romantically caressing to signal ‘open.’ you obliged with the same energy; no words, just a loll of your tongue past your lips as an invitation for ronald to sink himself into your mouth and soothe the throbbing that was getting thunderous with yourself as aid.

to say you felt full was an understatement. it was in the bulge of your throat and your lower belly, the pressure from both ends so delicious it had you leaking with arousal around jules who had finally found a pace that suited all three of you, pounding relentlessly in and out of your wetness, grip on your hips only tightening with every movement so as not to slip out of you — especially with how rough your boyfriend was being tonight.

it wasn’t a rare sight for ronald to be this… hungry but you could tell it was something about the circumstances of tonight, the fact that he got to share you with someone else fueled his fire and led to his hips pistoning against the skin of your chin and nose, his cock gliding easily down the column of your throat due to how much you were salivating around it. once he relented in his rapidness, you took your time to give special attention to where he liked it the most; right at the tip, where it was red and agitated. you smoothed it over with your tongue, the drenched muscle working like a hypnotic thing, pulling wanton moans from your uruguayan lover, his head thrown back from the red-hot pleasure.

you loved this feeling of being stuffed, of having your every sense attacked and stimulated, and you were getting oh-so-close to cumming over jules’ cock, your voice getting slightly higher-pitched around ronald’s length to warn him of your impending climax. jules noticed it first, the way your pussy clenched around him like a firm fist being a dead giveaway and he took the chance to slither an arm around to your front, finger and thumb coming in to rub at your clit. the shocks you felt from it nearly had you shrieking.

a cacophony of moans,‘come on, baby, that’s it’s in a uruguayan accent, and groans rang in your ears before you saw stars — burning white and nearly blinding you. your orgasm hit you so head-on that there was no time to warn either of them, a lewd scream and snappy clenching of your walls pulling you all to the other side. jules managed to empty himself in the condom, still snug inside your warmth; ronald pumping his milky release just above the valley of your breasts. the feeling is filthy and you can’t help but giggle.

minimal words were exchanged whilst jules slipped out of you, purposefully but reluctantly all the same, and ronald laid you down on the bed, still a little giggly from the euphoric high of your orgasm. there was nothing but the warmth of both boys and the tangle of twelve limbs that could tame you to sleep now.

[msmk11]

Hey can I req tan x reader where reader sometimes works with the twins and is quite close w both of them. So she's besties with tan and reader is just female version of him and they like to tease each other and they always bicker like all the time and one day reader gets so fed up with tan that she throws a pillow at him and they just get into a huge play fight . And they are fighting for ages throwing stuff about just giggling and then eventually they uat end p on top of each other and the giggling just stops. And the tension omggg. U can end this with them actually getting together or I kind of imagine lemon walking back in a being like 'I got us dinner😀' just killing the vibe a ruining the moment. Hope it makes sense:)

Repercussions

Tangerine x reader (sorta implied fem but no pronouns)

CW: mentions of food!

Summary: you and tangerine are play fighting! Some sexual tension ensues.

A/N: Anon!! Thank you for requesting! I died making this, it’s such a cute prompt 😭

It's only when your stomach begins to rumble that you emerge from the hermit hole you've created in your hotel room. You dart across the hall and knock decidedly on Tangerine and Lemon's door, ready to beg them to order food with you so that you get a better deal.

Tangerine is the one to open the door, and the way he instantly looks you up and down with a shit-eating smirk makes you regret your decision instantly. In your hunger-ridden state, you'd totally forgotten that you were only in fuzzy socks, old pj shorts with hearts on them, and a matching ruffly tank top.

You hold up your hand in protest, "Save it."

"What, love? I wasn't gonna say anything... about your really fucking cute outfit."

You look him up and down and scoff, "Sorry I prefer to be comfortable, unlike certain psychopaths."

Though he has discarded his suit jacket, he's still in his white button up, sleeves pushed up to his elbows and a few buttons undone, and in his nicest gray slacks.

"Y'know I always like to look my best," the brunette answers proudly.

You brush past him into the room, "What, even for Lem?"

"Yes, of course, come right fucking in," Tangerine mumbles under his breath, though there's really no malice in his tone.

"Speaking of," you continue, plopping down onto one of the fluffy white beds, "where is Lemon?"

Tangerine sighs and joins you on the other side of the bed, "went to get dinner."

"What? You fuckers?! I'm starving and you didn't even bother to ask if I wanted anything."

"Oi shut it," he answers, pinching your bare thigh, "'course I fucking ordered something for you, love."

You pout at him, "But how'd you know what I want?"

His curls bounce as he shakes his head at you, "'cuz I know you better than you know yourself."

"Yeah right! There's no way you could've known that right now I wanted-"

"Fried rice?" He interrupts.

Then, he has the audacity to wink.

You're mad that he's right, so you do what you do best- attack him. You sneak a pillow from behind your back and smack him right in the face.

"Right, that's fucking it," he growls.

You let out a screech and jump off the bed, trying to find solace on the other side of the room.

"Mhmm don't think so, you little shit."

He stalks towards you, and you jump up on the other bed. You grab a pillow and hold it out threateningly, "Don't come closer, I'll hit you again."

Tangerine smirks at you, "it's a wonder you make it out of any missions alive if these are your bargaining tactics, love."

You ignore him and instead swing at his face again with the pillow. He takes this opportunity to lunge towards you, not only dodging your hit but also grabbing you by the waist. Tangerine manhandles you into his arms and throws you over his shoulder like its nothing.

"Tan! Let me down," you giggle, pounding your hands on his back.

You're not sure you really mean it though. Not, at least, with the nice view you have of his ass in your current position.

"If you insist," he declares, throwing you down onto his bed with a thump.

Before you have the chance to assume a fighting stance he's collapsed on top of you, using all his body weight to hold you down.

"Get off, you fucking prick," you groan.

Instead, he digs his hands into your sides with an evil grin, making you squeal again, “this is payback, love. Can’t attack me without repercussions.”

After his incessant attacks, you remember that you’re a trained fighter, and try to put some of your skills to use. Since most of his weight is on your upper half, you use your knees to push yourself up. You press on his chest and flip him over, so now that you’re the one on top.

He lets out a surprised chuckle and instinctively grabs your hips, trying to keep you from falling over from your momentum.

You’re both laughing breathlessly over the sudden turn of events and you bury your head in his toned chest. His chuckles vibrate against your skull and it’s nice- feeling so close to him.

Tangerine leans down to your ear to whisper something, and his hot breath on your neck makes you squirm and giggle.

He inhales sharply and squeezes your hips, a warning to stop moving, “You know, I should be more mad that you won, but I quite like having you on top straddling me.”

Slowly you look up at Tangerine, his bright blue eyes boring into yours, and stare at him, shocked.

“And I must say, if you don’t stop wiggling around on top of me, you’re gonna be in real trouble.”

A smirk creeps onto your face slowly, “well I do always have a penchant for trouble.”

The brunette’s eyes dart back and forth between your gaze and lips, and as he lays under you, dark curls all messed up from your tussle, you’re just aching to kiss him.

You start to lean in towards him.

“Love,” he warns breathily.

Your lips just faintly brush when you perceive the quiet beep of the hotel door unlocking. You throw yourself off of Tangerine onto the spot next to him and squeeze your eyes shut.

Jesus fucking Christ Lemon has the worst timing.

The door clicks open and Lemon walks in, completely oblivious to what’s just happened, “I’ve got dinner!”

[melanieph321]

Hi there,

I'm a long time reader here and i really like all of your fics. I don't know if you're taking requests or not but if you do, could you perhaps make a fic based on this :

https://www.tumblr.com/youandiwerealive/748931841255522304/httpswwwtumblrcomyouandiwerealive74892968529?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/youandiwerealive/748933629341761536/flight-attendant-ruben-ok-but-how-about?source=share

Idk why but these brainrots really intrigued me and i think you have the capabilities to turn them into a fic

I understand if you don't take request. Anyway, have a good day ❤

I AM SCREAMING!!!!

Like no. I saw @youandiwerealive and anon, whom assume is you, talk about this. And I found it so hilarious and relatable. Ruben as a flight attendant 🤣🤣

Of course I will write this request. Even better. Imma make it a 3 parts series 🤪!

Ruben Dias x Reader - Flight Hours Part 1/3

Part 2 Part 3

Ruben and Reader are flight attendants on their way to Portugal. Although they are off to a bad start, the two end up finding common ground.

Enjoy!

Back to back flights were such a nightmare. But when you as a flight attendant complained to your bosses about it, they would hit you with the usual "It's holiday season, it will blow over" bull crap.

You made sure to arrive at your gate early. Earlier than the rest of your cabin crew members. It was a fancy plane this one, where passengers in first class could take a shower if they wished to. Since you weren't given a chance to do so this morning flying from Frankfurt to Dubai, taking a shower is exactly what you were going to do now. It wasn't exactly protocol of you to use the passengers' accommodation, though, especially not the first class ones. But since the airline had such high demand on personal hygiene and frankly a quite misogynistic beauty standard amongst it's employee. You saw it fitting for you to at least clean yourself ahead of your flight.

"Excuse me, is somebody in there?"

"No, wait!"

However, just as you were rinsing out your hair, someone unlocked the doors, exposing you mid shower.

"Puta." The man said, or more so gasp. His eyes shamelessly traveled down your naked body, eyeing you like some kind of prey.

"Shut the fucking door!" You shouted, however the man remained in the doorway, causing a draft. He was another flight attendant, you were sure of it. You could tell just by the way that this sort of situation failed to startle him.

"You must be Frankfurt?"

"Pardon?" Your hands left your hair, a sudden urge to cover yourself. However, the man had already seen it all.

"You came in this morning, no? From Frankfurt Airport?"

"Right."

"I'm Ruben Dias, I'll be flying with you from Dubai to Lisbon."

The man was such a dickhead, having audacity to offer you to shake his hand, with a large grin on his face. Mind you that you stood before him in a shower, butt-naked.

"I'm Y/N." You shook his hand just to end the conversation and for him to go away.

"Nice to meet you, Frankfurt. And what a lovely tattoo."

"You fucking...."

Ruben shut the door in your face, his laughter trailing down all the way to the cockpit where he probably ran to tell the captains about your encounter. Your hand went to the butterfly tattoo on your hip, awfully close to your....you know what. If Ruben had spotted it, he would have also seen your newly waxed kitty cat on full display.

"What a fucking nightmare of a flight this is gonna be."

Based on how it started you expected the worse, however, things turned out pretty quiet on your side. Luckily for you the two male flight attendants were assigned to first class, while you and another female flight attendant stayed back in economy. It was the first time sexism worked in your favor. However, you ran into Ruben every now and then when the two of you were either on a break or topping up your snack and beverage carts.

"Frankfurt? What a pleasure meeting you here."

You rolled your eyes,  having heard Ruben coming from a mile away. He always seemed to leave first class with a trail of giggling women. It wasn't uncommon for flight attendants to be charming, but to flirt with passengers was simply unprofessional.

"My name is Y/N, not Frankfurt."

"It doesn't matter up here." Ruben said, reaching for something in the cabin above your head. The smell of him invaded your nostrils without consent, the worst part being that he smelled amazing.

"What do you mean?" You asked.

Ruben had gone to grab himself a can of coke and two plastic cups. Your name doesn't matter up here in the sky." He explained. "It's no mans' land. Up here, we only care about where you came from and where you're going. Up here, you're Frankfurt, and I'm Portugal."

"Well, that's stupid." You muttered.

Ruben chuckled and poured the can of coke into the plastic cups. "Here." He said, offering you one.

You only accepted because you were thristy, not because of the way Ruben was staring at you as your hands touched when he handed you the cup. Nor because of the way that the soft lights hit his face as he leaned back against the wall, regarding you even more seductively.

"So..." He sighed, after finishing his cup of coke, waiting for you to do the same.

"So." You smiled, perhaps your first time doing so, at least in front of Ruben.

"Are you member of the Mile High Club?"

You should have known that only something stupid would come out of that pretty little mouth of his.

"Wait, wait. I'm just kidding." Ruben said, grabbing your wrist as you turned your back on him. "Jesus Frankfurt, is it that hard for you take a joke?"

"For your information, nothing of what you say is funny to me. And to answer your question, no, I've never fucked in a airplane bathroom. As a flight attendant yourself you should know how disgusting and unhygienic that would be."

Ruben regarded you with interest, shrugging his shoulders. "It doesn't have to be in a bathroom, could also be in a shower."

"Fuck you."

The last thing you saw was Ruben's large grin. You left him on your way back to economy, where you planned to spend the rest of your flight, avoiding Ruben at all cost. It was incredible, though, how handsome he was. How the stewards uniform suited him as if it was tailor-made. It outlined his braud shoulders and swollen biceps. If it wasn't for his big mouth, you wouldn't hesitate to go for a man like him. And, no, it wasn't unusual for flight stewards to have affairs with each other, certainly not when the airline was paying for your hotel rooms. However, once you landed in Lisbon, all you wanted to do in your hotel room was to sleep.

Part 2 Part 3

[crxss01]

— Heartache

pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ jason grace x reader

summary ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ jason and you were dating before he was taken by hera, when he comes back he chooses piper over you leaving you heartbroken.

warnings ✧˖ ° angst, hurt/no comfort, breaking up (is not even stated, he just dated someone else), curse words, jason is kind of an asshole, i love him but i hate him here, piper was clueless about your existence, no piper bashing.

m. list, main m.list.

a/n . . ◟੭ hey, sweet anon! i found this request so interesting and i really enjoyed (even though it hurt) writing this idea for you!

you stood stunned, looking at your boyfriend as he stood there having just climb out of the greek ship. you were too shocked to move towards him, almost a year ago you had started dating and then a couple of months ago he completely disappeared but that time he was missing only made your feelings for him grow.

you had grown desperate to find him and when you found out that he had been sent to camp half-blood you had felt relieved because that meant that there was a chance he was still alive and that you would be able to see him again.

you finally got over your surprised and when you took one step to run towards him like the blonde had done for percy, you didn’t know how you hadn’t notice the hand that jason was holding or the way he was looking at you with guilty eyes.

those same eyes that used to look exactly like that when he did something that you didn’t like, for example one time he made your entire cohort have cleaning duty for a week for something only one of you guys did. it pissed you off extremely that all of your cohort had to pay for somebody’s mistake, now that look was there and you didn’t like it one bit.

this couldn’t be happening.

during the feast you watched their interactions quietly and you weren’t dumb so you connected the dots quickly, hazel kept giving you glances full of pity and reyna glanced at you once in a while.

when others started going their separate ways, (ella with tyson, octavian leaving with leo and others just doing whatever.) you finally decided to speak up when jason had the audacity to ask reyna if he could show the girl, piper, around.

“jason, i think that we have something to discuss before you do that. don’t you think?” you raised an eyebrow, using all your strength to pray to the gods that you don’t start to cry right then and there.

“umm, sure..” he appeared uncomfortable, and piper looked confused.

“i’m his girlfriend,” you told her. “or ex? i don’t know, last time i saw him i was pretty sure we were even in love with each other.” you said the word like it physically hurt to say, and it did because he even told you that he loved you so what was this shit he was pulling now.

“hey,” jason said before you can continue saying more stuff. “we’ll talk, you don’t have to put this onto her. she didn’t know.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to stop yourself from crying and nodded, turning and walking away from the group expecting him to follow you which he did but not before telling her that he will explain everything later. the way he defended her hurt you so much, it was like you didn’t matter anymore.

you finally reached a place where you could have some privacy with him, it was actually the thinking tree. the spot where you and jason met, where he met up with you a couple of times before dating you, where he asked you out, where you had your first kiss with him, where you two said your first i love you and where you last saw each other until now.

you were the one to name the tree and you remember jason’s sweet laugh when you told him the name, he found it interesting that you liked to come under a tree so that you would be able to think with nothing else in mind and then go and give it a name.

“you remember this?” you asked him, nodding at the tree.

“yeah…” he looked at it and you hoped he was getting deja vu.

“why are you dating her?” you asked him, straight to the point. “you are dating me, jason. that’s called cheating, something i never expected you to do.”

“listen, i didn’t mean to. it just happened.” jason explained. “i really like her, and i want to stay with her.”

“did you have your memories back at the time this feelings continued to grow?” you asked, still trying to keep your cool.

“yes,” he nodded. “but there was nothing i could do to stop it.”

“jason, i—” your voice broke, the tears started to spill out. “i w—waited for you, all this time…”

“i’m sorry, but i didn’t ask you to do that.” jason said, looking at you with pity which you hated. “i want to stay with her because she makes me happier than i have ever been, i’m sorry that this hurts you.”

“you want to stay with her?” you asked shocked, those words had cut deep.

“yes, and—”

a shrill sound pierced the air. lights flashed in the direction you two had come from.

“piper!” jason rushed in that direction without even glancing back at you.

that single word alone was enough to completely shatter your heart.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!

[idiotmf]

Could you please do amab version of your last fic? 🥺

Of course I can, anon, here you go!! I made some minor changes.🥰

This is the amab version of this post where Reader gets railed by a ghost.

NSFW, Minors DNI

TW: Dub-con

When your grandma left you a house after she passed, you assumed your troubles would finally be over, and for a while, they were. When you moved in, things were amazing. You didn't have to worry about rent anymore, and the utilities were surprisingly cheap. It's like you hit the jackpot, finally able to live with a few less worries.

Obviously, when you weren't working or hanging out with the odd friend that came over, you spent your time at home, keeping yourself occupied, mostly by either watching something, playing something, or masturbating out of boredom.

Things continued like that for a while, until you found a rather cryptic note from your late grandma that explained in unnecessary detail how there was a ghost living in the house. She strictly referred to the ghost as "him" and mentioned he was fairly friendly, unless provoked, and even then he would only play pranks on you.

Being the rational person that you are, you chalked it up to grandma being senile and that she was just keeping herself entertained since she lived in the house all alone. It would have been fine if that's where it stopped.

One night, your old friend came over, and you did your usual routine of watching something, and then halfway through, you ended up fucking. That's where it really all began.

The next morning, things were on the ground, not like someone had ransacked the place, but it was noticeable enough, though of course you thought it must've been just your old friend who had knocked some stuff over while leaving in a hurry. When you went to bend over to pick some things up, you could feel something grabbing your ass, and without hesitation, you turned around, only to be faced with nothing. Maybe you were going crazy, you thought; it wasn't an awfully strong grip, so maybe it was something your body did.

This excuse became increasingly less effective as time went on. You felt hands everywhere and at the worst times. Caressing your arms and legs, tracing your stomach and back. Eventually it got to the point where you could feel a hand slipping into your pants, playing with your dick. Of course, you were scared at first. Something was clearly there, and it reminded you of the letter your grandma left you.

You began shouting at the ghost. Telling it to stop fucking around and leave you alone. However, the ghost didn't really care; you broke his one rule that he had agreed on with your grandma, and even if you didn't know, he was going to punish you. How dare you bring another man into his house and have the audacity to fuck him?

His touching escalated the more you allowed him. Eventually you noticed a mouth and a wet tongue licking your neck, circling and sucking your nipples. It seemed strange, considering you were usually clothed when this happened, yet it felt like it was touching your skin directly. The licking felt nothing like what your old friend would do, although in truth the sex with him wasn't all that good and really just a way to get fucked every once in a while.

Before you knew it, multiple hands were all over you, joined by at least three tongues licking you. This made no sense; you wondered if there were multiple ghosts. It became increasingly difficult to even find the logic in this when you were constantly being groped and licked. One tongue had found its permanent place on your sensitive tip, licking and sucking it with every move you made; one was carelessly sucking on one of your nipples, alternating with one hand that usually played with the other one. The third mouth seemed to like making out with you, its tongue constantly shoved in your mouth, wrestling yours.

Despite feeling all these ministrations as if they were real, when you looked at your reflection, there was nothing there. Your mouth was gaping, but nothing was in it; your underwear soaked beyond belief most of the time due to pre-cum, yet nothing seemed to be there. But truly, the worst part about it all was that it wouldn't let you finish. Whenever you were just about to cum, the mouth disappeared before continuing its torture. It took about two days before you couldn't take it anymore, pleading with the ghost to let you cum. It didn't listen, though it did use more hands to restrict you when you went to touch yourself before shoving something inside of your puckered hole.

It wasn't much of a sensation, and you felt it curl, so you naturally assumed it was the finger of another hand. “Please,” you began whimpering every other minute, your tone getting more needy with every ruined orgasm that he put you through as minutes began to feel like hours.

“I'll do anything,” you finally managed to choke out through tears as he played with your twitching dick for what you could only register as an eternity again, bent over the kitchen counter, legs held apart, wrists gripped tightly by the ghost. For a moment, there was nothing but stillness; all the mouths stopped what they were doing, and most of the hands disappeared too, except the ones keeping you in place.

“Anything?” A shiver ran down your spine as you heard the noise that you assumed to be the ghost's voice. It sounded distant and more like the wind howling than a human voice, yet you knew immediately who it was. You nodded, the tears running down your face falling onto the kitchen counter, your twitching cock trying to feel any sort of stimulation now that the mouths and hands were gone.

“Yes, anything.” The words came out before you could even attempt to stop them, accompanied by a howling sound, which made you wonder whether it was meant to be a laugh or not.

Another few moments passed before a loud noise forced itself out of your mouth at the sensation of something stretching you open. It was long and thick, covered in strange bumps, providing nothing but the most torturous pleasure as it thrust into your hungry hole at a punishing pace.

Despite your mind still questioning whether this was okay and logical, your body was writhing against the kitchen counter, hands still held still by him, your legs forced apart as he fucked you from behind. No matter how much you attempted to stop it from happening, desperate, high-pitched mewling sounds escaped your lips at a rapid rate as you felt another orgasm approach, hoping this would be the one to finally let you cum after two days of torture.

“What a willing little slut,” the ghost taunted with his howling voice, making him sound distant yet all around you at once. The insults made you mewl louder; something about being used like this by a ghost made your ass clench harder.

In a small moment of defiance, you glanced back at what might be behind you, but just as expected, there was nothing. Despite your hole being stretched to an almost painful level, gaping around air, no figure was there to account for it.

Just as your orgasm threatened to spill over, something was shoved into your mouth, making your jaw hurt, before it found its way down your throat, drowning out your mewls and desperate groans.

“Be quiet, whore. I'm not done with you yet.” With those words, your eyes fluttered closed as you let this torture continue for another minute or two, ass and throat both stuffed full with invisible cocks, bigger than any human's you've ever had. The thought alone was enough to trigger your orgasm, finally sending you over that sweet edge with a loud groan that only came out as a hum, cum spilling against the drawers of your counter. Your body went limp from the impact, and you saw stars in front of your eyes, the ghost holding you up by your wrists as if it were nothing.

Without a word or even a moment to spare, he kept slamming into you, the bumps rubbing against your insides, making you feel like you were stuck in a never-ending orgasm for a moment before it did finally subside, though you could feel the cocks twitch, their movements becoming more erratic and aggressive. You tried to say something, but your throat was simply too stuffed to make any worthwhile noise.

Suddenly, you felt a hot sensation in both of your holes, almost making you gag and cry in pain, as the sheer amount of ectoplasmic seed forced its way into your body and down your throat, spilling back into your mouth, even running down your chin. Before you could fully register what happened, you were dropped, the ghost probably leaving you to deal with the aftermath. As you lay there, the sheer amount of mixed cum almost formed a small puddle on the ground, your fucked-out hole leaking more as you desperately tried to swallow the remnants in your mouth.