#why is drawing the same face twice so hard???

[frogonamelon]

@the-trashiest-pada's Space Usagi is so excellent I love her. She's serving Nausicaa and I couldn't help myself but draw her in the outfit (the spore mask was not working alas). The space lesbian. She's so cool. AAAAfsbkbdkfbdkfjbd

(here is the initial post)

[lipglossanon]

October 29th

Kink: Spanking

Pairing: Best friend’s dad!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, spanking, age gap (reader is early 20’s with Leon being early 40’s), teasing, degradation, name calling, kissing, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, cheating

not proofread

The Kennedy’s live in a cul-de-sac so there’s always a ton of trick or treaters on Halloween. Your friend, Kirsty, invited you over to help hand out candy. That was the plan. Unfortunately, her boyfriend got caught up in some mess and she has to leave to go bail him out. 

It’s why you’re now hanging out in an empty house wearing a fairly modest Freddy Krueger costume. Nothing to give parents a heart attack when you open the door to drop candy into their kiddos’ little plastic jack o’lanterns; but, you have enough leg showing that it’s not exactly subtle either. 

It must be why Mr. Kennedy is giving you the side eye when he strolls in off of work. You’re relaxing on the couch, candy bowl nearly empty on the table in front of you, when he sits down with a spare cushion between you. 

“You two haven’t left yet?”

You close your phone and turn your attention to him. It would be a lie to say you’ve never thought your friend’s dad was hot, but he’s never looked at you twice so it’s just something you’ve kept to yourself. However, now, his eyes linger on your legs, drifting up to your thighs then your breasts—lingering on your cleavage until he flicks his blue eyes up to your face. 

It all happens in the span of a couple of seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. The spit in your mouth dries up when you finally lock eyes. 

Clearing your throat, your nerves get the best of you, “N-no, uhm, Kirsty actually—she left. To pick up her boyfriend.”

He hums, relaxing a little into the couch and spreading his legs. Your eyes are drawn to the movement and you can see the outline off his cock. 

“It’s impolite to stare, honey. Don’t you have any manners?”

“Sorry, Mr. Kennedy.”

He grins and it makes your heart race. 

“I-I should probably get going,” you fidget with the hem of your dress, realizing exactly how short it is. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Aww honey, that’s just rude,” he narrows his eyes.

This draws you up short and your brows pinch together in confusion, “Rude how?”

“You’re not even going to wait on my daughter to get home before leaving?”

You give a minute shake of your head, “She’ll understand.”

He clicks his tongue, a hot palm coming down on your thigh and making you jump. 

“I don’t think so, you can sit right here until she gets back. Keep me company.”

Biting your bottom lip, your clit throbs at his rough tone. 

“I think I should go,” you murmur, eyes dropping back down to his half hard cock. 

“Such a misbehaving girl,” he sighs out before shifting closer to you. “Guess I’ll need to rectify that.”

You gasp in surprise when he grabs your biceps and manhandles you facedown over his lap. Your dress rides up with the movement, showing off the cute panties you wore tonight. His palm comes down on your ass and you yelp like a struck dog. 

“Now, are you going to behave?” He asks, voice rich and deep, making you press the dough of your thighs together. 

Gathering up what little awareness you have, you mewl, “Yes, yes, I-I will.”

He chuckles, but doesn’t say anything. He rains slaps across your ass, spanking each cheek in the same spot until the sharp stings turn into a dull burn. After the first few, you can’t hold back your gasps and whines. Slick drools from your cunt and embarrassment burns hot in your belly. 

You can feel Mr. Kennedy’s chubbed cock underneath your pelvis and it makes your mouth water. Losing count of his slaps, you only notice he stops when his hand cups your pussy from behind.

“I don’t think my lesson’s sinking in, sweetheart,” he mocks, fingers drumming against your panty covered slit. “Think I need to go a bit further, really drive the point home.”

As the word drive leaves his lips, he presses his fingers into your hole, panties stretching uncomfortably as he pushes the fabric into your clenching heat. He chuckles, mean and low, grinding his digits in until you’re whining and shifting in his lap. 

“Please,” you moan. “I’ll behave, sir.”

He groans and pulls back his hand to slap the wet gusset of your panties, “There we go, knew that sweet mouth of yours knew some manners.”

He wrenches your panties down and off, digits going back to press into your drooling hole. Spreading your legs as much as you can, you whine when he roughly finger fucks your pussy.  Growling, he slides them out, fingers wet where he grips your hips and wrangles you back onto your front. Guiding your movement, he situates you until you’re seated over his legs. 

“Gonna fuck your wet pussy, honey,” he grunts, unbuckling and unzipping his slacks before pulling his cock free. “Show that little hole who’s in charge.”

Your eyes flutter when he slaps his cock down onto your clit, a quick plap plap plap that has his tip drooling precum on your swollen bud. Moaning, you angle your hips and slide yourself down on his cock, pussy walls stretching around his thick length.

“Anyone could walk in and see me stuffing this slutty pussy,” he laughs in your ear. “Such a little home wrecker.” 

Your cunt clamps down on his cock, clit pulsing from his words. Tucking your face into his shoulder, your body feels hot all over. His hands slip under your dress to grab fistfuls of your ass, skin stinging at the contact. 

“C’mon be a good cocksleeve,” he croons nastily. “Work that fat pussy up and down my cock.”

Mewling, you slowly begin to bounce on his lap, fucking yourself on his dick. It doesn’t take long until you’re moaning and panting, riding his cock hard and fast, your hand shifting down between your bodies so you can rub your clit. 

“Yeah, that’s a good girl, make yourself cum for me,” he groans, head leaning back against the couch so he can watch more easily. “Rub that slippery little clit, honey.”

“Mr. Kennedy,” you moan, thighs burning from the constant motion while your pussy flutters and grips onto his cock. 

With his free hand, he yanks the neck of your shirt down until your breasts spill out for his greedy eyes. 

“God, look at those fucking tits,” his cock flexes inside your puffy cunt. “Fuck, keep working my cock cause I’m about to shoot a thick load in this soft little pussy.”

Arousal is a steady thrum in your body, cunt slick and greedy as you ride your best friend’s dad on their family couch. Your fingers quicken on your clit, pussy humping down on his cock faster and faster. Leaning forward, he begins to taste your nipples, sucking and licking the stiff buds with a loud groan. 

It’s enough to push you over the edge, climax whiting out your brain as you cry out. You sit heavily in his lap, cock buried to the hilt in your snug pussy, milking and clenching down on his fat length. 

“God that’s it, take it, fuck gonna creampie your sweet little hole,” he pants, rutting up into you until he spills his load with a grunt. 

Hot spurts of cum fill your pussy to the brim, slowly leaking out around his cock. Shivering, you rock your hips back and forth, the aftershocks of your orgasm zapping through your body. Pulling you in close, he kisses you messily, tongue licking past your slack lips until you’re kissing back just as eagerly. 

You sit in Mr. Kennedy’s lap, his cock half hard inside your sore pussy, while you makeout on the couch. His hands run all over your body, grabbing your ass and hips before running his thumbs across your nipples only to repeat the process over and over again. It has you squirming against him, body keyed up and turned on, until he’s fucking up into you again. 

“Fucking slut,” he rumbles against your mouth, cock squelching with every thrust in and out of your pussy. “You’re making me cum in you again. What a selfish girl.”

Mind blissed out, you only hum in response, kissing him again while he groans into your mouth. This time the sex is quick and dirty, both of you so sensitive that you each cum within seconds of the other. Your pussy milks another load from his throbbing cock, his balls flexing as he pumps more cum into your overly stuffed hole. 

“God, breeding a tight little pussy never gets old,” he sighs, head flopping back onto the couch. “Gonna keep me company the rest of the night.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Kennedy,” you nuzzle into his neck and he slaps your ass gently. 

“Good girl.”

[ooffmlsorry]

OP Men Dating a "Girly Girl"

A/N: sorry this took so long and I haven't posted anything original in a minute my life is mess and I'm so very tired jfc...I know this isn't more than my usual group but I was just gonna stop at Luffy and then decided to add Ace and Sabo as a thank you because writing these and putting them on Tumblr has been really good for me, so thank you for always being here to indulge me 🥲 ❤️

Sanji, Zoro, Law, Luffy, Ace, Sabo

Sanji

Let's be honest, girly-girls drive Sanji craaaazzzzyy (not that all women don't, but he's definitely more partial to the feminine ones) Your make-up, pretty skirts and dresses, jewelry, and manicure, he can't help fawn over you constantly 😍Although you do it because you enjoy it, it's nice that your efforts are so appreciated!!

He spoils you soooo baaaddd!! He literally can't help himself when he sees something pretty or cute that reminds him of you, he has to get it for you. You're drowning in squishmallows at this point.

A river of blood shoots from him every time you show off a new outfit. You're going to kill him and he'll thank you for it.

Dressing up in nice outfits together, especially on date night, is a shared activity that you love to do together. Y'all are living your best happily ever after lives.

Ya'll definitely have scheduled self-care nights. You put on some slow music, open a bottle of wine, draw a bubble bath, all that.

He's utterly useless when it comes to helping you pick your outfits or makeup if you're stuck because he loves you in everything, it's too hard for him to pick. You're his perfect, beautiful Y/N-swaaaaan 😍💖💖✨

He does love to see you in pink or red though so he might default to those colors

Don't try to test your makeup on him lol, you're going to re-awaken the gender identity crisis...I mean Kamabakka trauma

Listen...I'm not saying Sanji has a mommy kink...I'm not even at Whole Cake Island so idk wtf is going on there. All I'm saying is if you give this man a bath, wrap him in a towel to dry him off, and rub him down with luxurious lotions and oils, you might awaken something...that's all...👀

ZORO

He has no clue wtf you're doing. If it weren't for the fact that there's no proof that witches exist in this world, he'd think you are one

He looks at your vanity full of serums, creams, scrubs, lotions, etc, not to mention the makeup and he's like "??????" Just completely baffled

But what do you expect? This man would use that five-in-one Irish Spring soap if he could.

Just because he doesn't understand it doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate and admire the fact that you have extensive knowledge in something he can't even comprehend

He knows you like nice shiny things, and again, while he doesn't get it, he does think it's really, really cute when you go starry-eyed over a necklace or an outfit in a store.

In the same vein, he knows how much you love cute things and animals. He has absolutely found a cute animal in the jungle, picked it up, and brought it to you just to show you because he knew you'd love it.

Sometimes in his own gruff way he'll agree with you that it's pretty cute. Thank you for helping this manly man admit things are cute and that's okay.

Other times, he's the one making sure you don't get distracted because it's so cute

Unfortunately and fortunately, you're pretty to him no matter what you do to yourself so it's all kind of a moot point to him.

You can try to ask him about which 'x' to wear, sometimes it's helpful because he'll throw out a really practical answer and then other times he's like "How 'bout you just go naked" 😏.

He'll wear a face mask with you like...twice a year. And he's going to bitch and moan about it but he does it because he loves you. The entire process is like trying to give a cat a bath "WHY IS IT SO COLD? THIS STAYS ON MY FACE FOR HOW LONG???"

Exfoliate this man at your own risk...I'm dead serious that water is going to be brown

LAW

I need you to know right now this man will let you paint his nails!!! I mean, not like gel or acrylics or anything, but he'll let you paint them any color as long as it's a dark shade of that color. You once designed Bepo on his middle fingers. He did in fact flip people off a lot more often when he had them.

Let's you wear a pastel boiler suit because you he loves you and wants to see you happy

Much like Zoro, he's got no clue what you're doing. He'll stand back and watch you while making the exact same face as the gif above.

He thinks he's being stealthy peaking around a corner to watch your morning or night routine, but you quickly catch on. Please please pleeaaassee ask him if he has any questions because he does. He's just really curious why you're doing what you're doing and what it does. It's basically skin medicine and he's really fascinated.

Knowing that you like shiny things makes his life admittedly a little easier, it's not that he doesn't think of what to gift you, he puts A LOT of thought into what he gives you, but knowing that earrings, necklaces, and bracelets always make you happy is great just in case of analysis paralysis or he forgets. Sorry.

Also you wearing the jewelry he gets you does something to him, especially a necklace he can pull on a little, mmhhm you're making this man struggle with impure thoughts.

You both love cute things, it's something y'all connect on. It's really good that you help him access that very neglected inner child of his and encourage him to coo and fawn over adorable animals with zero reservation.

He'll do skincare with you too when he's not super busy. He can admit it's kind of nice to sit in bed with a book, glass of wine, and a face mask and just bask for a minute

He acts like he hates when you rub serums across his face and use a derma roller on him but he loves it

Law doesn't really pay attention to your clothes, but when you really go all out he breaks out in a sweat and he can't keep his eyes off you.

LUFFY

I'm not saying he thinks it's stupid, it just...why have an hours long care routine when you could be going on adventure with him??? 😭😭😭

He will help you pick out your makeup but don't expect it to look good. You're gonna end up with neon orange eyeshadow and green lipstick. Like literally every "My Boyfriend Does My Makeup" youtube video.

Plays around with your stuff but that's because he has no idea what all these strange contraptions are. The moment you try to explain his eyes glaze over and next thing you know he's whisking you away to go do something more fun.

He likes the shiny bright stuff (highlighter), makeup probably is the only part he even remotely engages in because it's

Explain how contour works to this man and watch him lose his fucking mind, he thinks you're a shape shifter now (honestly this applies to all of them except Law and maybe Sanji)

He never notices what you wear, Nami is gonna have smack him on the back of the head to get him to realize you put on something fancy

Luffy points out everything, it just so happens that things he points out sometime happen to be cute animals

Hides in all the stuffed animals and squishmallows in your room to surprise attack hug you

*throws mud at you* "Is this the kind of mud you like, Y/N??" He really means well though.

You know those hair masks with all natural ingredients like honey and banana? Yeah, he's gonna start sucking on your hair like spaghetti...I'm so sorry.

He'll bathe with you but that's because he wants to be close to you, it's definitely not about being pampered or relaxing.

Try to put a face mask on him or something else and it'll just become a game of tag around the Sunny. You can't catch him and he's having a great time outrunning and outwitting you.

He knows this is all important to you so even though he doesn't get it he'd never make fun of you for it and the moment someone calls you "extra," he's kicking their ass.

ACE

Maybe all the glam is a little silly to him but that just makes you extra cute!

He will also absolutely let you paint his nails. Hell, he'll let you do a full beat on him just for fun and he'll wear it for the whole day because he's so unserious lol

...As long as he gets to do your makeup after...Much like Luffy you're gonna be covered in neon colors that don't even remotely match, but you guys have a great time lol

Admittedly likes to be pampered by you when he gets back from a long mission.

Please take a bubble bath with this man, it's not like the water is ever going to get cold!

I'm pretty sure you'd legitimately lead to Ace taking better care of himself. Got this man out here talking about his cuticles and shit lol

Honestly, it's really good for him because self care leads to self love and Ace needs a lot of help with that.

He tells Pops about all the stuff you do 1.) because he loves you and 2.) he hopes some of it will help Whitebeard heal a little, god bless him 😢

All of your hardwork doesn't go unnoticed, he legitimately gets kind of misty eyed when you really dress up because he's so so so lucky. He swears he doesn't deserve you.

He always brings back some kind of gift even whether it's a cute plushie or something exotic to wear from all of his long travels

I need to stress how much this means to him, everyone of these things is like a little proposal because he already knows you're it. Every little gift is leading up to a ring from this man.

He's also just genuinely impressed by the skill it takes to do your makeup so well, especially after he tries doing it on you

Much like his little brother unfortunately, he does play with all the little contraptions in your vanity, especially in the beginning because have you seen an eyelash curler? He's so confused lol

SABO

Sabo and Ace truly are his brothers because he really don't get all the effort lol

Admittedly, a lot of that is because he thinks you're so hot already what's the point???

Once he gets this is just how you are he's less confused, he's probably the most normal out everyone. He lets you do your thing, although he's really curious how you managed to always look amazing while being in the fucking revolutionary army!!?? Where are you getting the time???

If someone were to intrude on y'all on a free afternoon you're both in fluffy robes with face masks on and Sabo loves to pretend to act like a bitch when he's in selfcare mode with you lol

"Are you seriously bothering us right now, ugh! I can't even right now!!" And then you both break out in laughter

He really thinks you should teach others how to contour and do makeup because it has great applications for disguises and infiltration.

And brags about your skills to everyone

Wonders how many of your makeup supplies could actively be used as a weapon *eye roll* jfc Sabo

There's a part of you that secretly worries all your boujieness will remind him of his blood relatives, but he assures you that it doesn't because you have a good heart and he never doubts that

Besides, being a little extra with him helps him associate those things he used to associate with his blood relatives with you instead so it's even better

He spoils you so bad, but with a Sabo-flair, ie. stealing from shitty people and bringing it back to you because you're oh so more deserving of nice things let's be honest

He gets jealous of the cute animals that you squeal over hehehe, please hug him when he starts pouting

He'll always wear a little pink just for you ❤️

[aquaticmercy]

Not a request but just some thoughts! I don’t know how to explain it but:

Bucky: girl dad through and through

Steve: Boy dad (I love him so much but i genuinely feel if he had a daughter he would raise her like a son because he don’t know what he’s doing)

Sam: Both boy and girl dad, but the boy always turns into a carbon copy of him while simultaneously being a mama’s boy

omg thank you anon for these thoughts!

Enjoys these Dad! Bucky, Steve, and Sam blurbs!

Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes would make the best girl dad. And he’s the best girl dad precisely because everything he’s been through. Because all of the violence and trauma. It’s why he’s so gentle with his daughter, why he’s extra careful around his little girl. 

He spent years being nothing but a weapon, and now that he has the life he shares with you and your daughter, he is so scared of hurting either of you that he treats you both like you’re made of glass. 

He still has that 1940s mindset buried in there, though. Not because he’s a jerk— he knows better than that— but because it’s just there because it was drilled into him from a very young age. 

He catches himself sometimes thinking her daughter should be all dainty and protected and doted on 24/7, and he reminds himself that she has to learn how to be on her own someday.

Still, he treats his daughter like he’s her bodyguard, the way he does with you. He still opens doors for you, stands just a bit too close on the sidewalk. He’s got this invisible shield around both of you. He doesn’t even mean to; it’s just there instinctively.

So now imagine his face when his little girl starts ditching dolls and princesses for more  traditionally masculine things. 

Bucky is very supportive, although he has to manually override some of his 40s brain.

She loves the drums, and he’s all for it. He gets her lessons. He sits next to her during practice to catch all the sticks she drops trying to do complicated tricks. He high fives her whenever she does a sick beat. 

She’s also all about football (soccer). He notices it when she’s cheering for the women’s national team during the World Cup like her life depends on it. 

Bucky immediately starts looking at tryouts and academies. When she has a game, he’s out there on the sidelines, grinning whenever she does anything even remotely good, screaming encouragements when she loses the ball, and celebrating with her when she scores a goal.

But god, it’s hard for him to watch her take a tumble, all elbows and skinned knees. She hits the ground here and there and he winces every time, heart in his throat. He’s so adorably worried until she gets back up and gives her daddy a big thumbs up. 

And yet when she goes in for a not-so-great tackle, he’s the loudest one cheering on the field (and the first one complaining when the ref gives her a yellow card).

But then. Then she decides she wants to try Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. She says she wants to be tough, like him.

This is where Bucky might draw the line. “There’s no way,” he tells you. Not his little girl, rolling around on some mat with kids twice her size, learning to choke people out. 

It makes him think of all the things he’s done, the things he was forced to learn, the violence he was engineered to deliver, and he can’t bear the thought of her going anywhere near that world. 

He wants to shield her from it, to keep her protected, untouched by any of that.

You, of course, see right through him. You sit him down one night and tell him, gently but firmly, that she’s her own person. 

That she’s got his strength. And if she wants to do this, it’s because she wants to be more like him. Because she looks up to him. Because she thinks her daddy is the best person in the world.

It takes a while, but he comes around. But not only because his little girl wants to be like him, but also because he sees so much of you in her. 

You both have the same spark, the same drive, the same way of nudging him to grow. To challenge his thoughts and beliefs.

He watches his daughter march into her first Jiu-Jitsu class with this fierce little smile, the kind he remembers seeing on his own face back in the day.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s terrified. But he’s proud, too. Because she's challenging him to be better, braver, just by being herself. 

And every time he watches her spar, he finds himself cheering—softly, at first. Soon, he’s the loudest parent in the room. His little girl, fighting her own battles, just like her dad.

-

Steve Rogers

Steve Rogers would be a fantastic boy dad.

He’d never admit it, but part of him always fantasised having that kind of relationship with his own dad—playing catch and putting on barbecue, doing all those white picket fence  father-son things. But his dad died when he was young, and even if he hadn’t, Steve would be too small, too sickly, to keep up. 

Now, with a son of his own, he absolutely craves bonding with the kid. And of course he’d love him no matter what, but there's just enough super-soldier serum running through his son’s veins to let him be strong and athletic.

And for a while, everything’s perfect. Steve takes his boy to baseball games, teaches him to throw a curveball, and they spend endless afternoons in the yard sprinting (Steve slows down a bit) and throwing frisbees. During the summer, you could hear them both laughing and talking from sunrise to sunset. It’s everything he dreamed about.

But as his kid grows, Steve starts to feel a distance.

His son’s childhood is just... different.

He’s popular at school and his biggest worries seem to revolve around sports day, acing his tests, and keeping up with all the clubs and extra classes he’s signed up for. His son doesn’t have to fight his way through the day just to be heard or seen. People listen to him. He’s the kid everyone wants to be around. His friends look up to him.

Steve can’t help but remember how different his own childhood was—every day a fight just to prove himself, to survive in a world that didn’t give a weak kid like him any breaks.

He remembers those long, lonely days where he’d sit at the edge of the playground, watching the other boys run across the field, laughing and tackling each other in games he could never join. Sometimes, he’d be nursing a bruised rib or hiding a scraped knee, feeling a bit isolated. He remembers how desperately he’d wanted to be a part of it—to have a world that embraced him instead of challenging him at every turn.

Now, watching his son grow up so different from that—so at ease in his own skin—fills him with happiness. Still, Steve feels a strange tug in his heart. 

Steve can’t help but feel like he’s on the outside looking in, wondering if he can truly understand this world his son is growing up in. He’s scared that him and his son wouldn’t have anything in common anymore.

One evening, after the kid’s asleep, Steve finds himself talking to you for hours about his anxieties.

He tells you how strange it feels, how he doesn't know if he can relate to the person your son is becoming. He can’t shake the feeling that, in some way, his boy’s growing into a world Steve himself never got to experience. A world he cannot help him with.

But you’re there, holding his hand, reminding him that love doesn’t need to look like a mirror. 

A few days later, Steve goes to pick up his kid from school, and what he sees, he will never forget. 

His son was on the playground, standing tall, facing down some older kid who’d been picking on another student— a little boy in a wheelchair. 

Steve’s son was defending someone who couldn’t defend themselves, just like Steve would’ve done back in the day— just like he always does.

When they get home, Steve’s got tears in his eyes as he hugs his son, barely able to say how proud he is. He runs upstairs to tell you what your son did. 

After that moment, all his worries vanish. Steve’s son might not have his struggles, but he's got his heart. 

And that’s all you ever really wanted.

-

Sam Wilson

Sam Wilson as a dad? He’s wonderful. 

You’ve never seen someone so comfortable just rolling with whatever his kids throw at him. 

His little girl has him wrapped around her finger.

When she drags him into one of her imaginary plays, he dives right in without hesitation. 

The two of them have this whole routine now: she’ll declare herself the “Queen of Cupcakes,” and before you know it, Sam’s transformed into her nemesis, “The Grumpy Troll.” 

He’s got a whole stash of masks and scarves just for these characters. He looks ridiculous in a pink tutu and tiara, but he’d never miss the chance to be part of her little kingdom.

But his daughter is not only about tea parties— She’s only eight, but she’s strong-willed and headstrong. She insists on trying things herself first, even if she has to wrestle with it. 

One time Sam reached over to help her open a jar, and she looked up with the most serious little frown, shook her head, and said, “Daddy, I got it.” And she did, after two minutes of huffing and puffing. 

Another time, Sam finds his daughter in the kitchen, a stool dragged up to the counter, sleeves rolled up, determinedly making her own peanut butter sandwich. She’s got peanut butter smeared from cheek to elbow, but she’s concentrating hard, tongue poking out a little as she spreads it just right. When Sam offers to help, she shakes her head without even looking up, determined to get it done.

Then there’s his six year old little boy, who’s gentler, in that way that Sam is. He’s kind-hearted and hilarious in a way that catches you both by surprise. 

After every mission, his son’s the one who toddles over and asks, “Daddy, are you okay?” like he’s got this radar for how people are feeling. He reminds Sam of himself, especially when he worked at the VA.

Sam even found him in the backyard last week, carefully placing a bowl of water and crumbs of bread on the grass. He said “The little bird with the hurt wing might come back, and I don’t want him to be thirsty.”

Another time, he offered his favourite blanket to his sister when she had a cold, even though he always sleeps with it himself. He just tucked it around her shoulders, giving her a quick hug before running off.

And just like his dad, your son is very clingy— very attached to you. If he sees you’re tired, he’ll nestle up on the couch next to you. And when you’re out of the house, he’ll carry your sweater around, or ask a hundred times when you’re coming back.

On the first day of school, your son’s practically clinging to your leg, not quite ready to let go. His eyes are all big, and you could feel how nervous he is without you there. 

Sam crouched down and starts giving him one go his famous pep talks. Before he could finish, his big sister steps in. 

She promises him they’d sit together on the bus and during snack and lunch time, and that she’ll teach him how to be “brave like Daddy.”

Your son squeezes your hand one last time, then lets go, holding onto his sister’s instead as they both walk on the school bus.

“Did you see that?” Sam whispers, his voice full of pride. 

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. You lean back into him, watching your kids grow up in front of your eyes.

-end

[0cta9on]

Nayeon fucking her hot manager in front of some trainees to make them know that they'll be fucktoys for their future managers

Sorry for taking so long, here u go!

Three pairs of eyes stare at you, nervous yet eager and willing to learn. You weren’t exactly sure why Nayeon asked you to show up at the dance room, but judging by the sly look she gave you upon entering, you figured it would be worth your while.

“Ladies, this is Twice’s manager, he makes sure that all of us are focused on the schedules for today and takes very good care of us,” Nayeon says, introducing you to the three girls that sat in front of you. “Oppa, these are Lily, Haewon, and Sullyoon. They’re gonna be debuting soon and I thought I would show them how to properly treat their managers.” So that’s why she dragged you here. Your cock immediately gets hard at Nayeon’s mischievous bunny smile, but you try not to let it show. You wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.

You exchange kind greetings with the girls, not wanting them to be intimidated by the show you’re about to put on.  “Being a manager is a lot of hard work, especially when he has to watch over all nine of us at the same time. That’s why we like to give him a little treat every once in a while, to show him how much we appreciate him,” she explains before rubbing your boner through your sweatpants, a lustful groan escaping your lips. The girls’ eyes go wide with shock, their bodies frozen from this sudden development.  So cute, so innocent. Your breath quickens at the thought of breaking everything they thought they knew about becoming an idol.

“Don’t be afraid girls, first times are always scary, but it’s a lot of fun if you just embrace it,” Nayeon giggles before kneeling in front of you, eyeing your dickprint with excitement. Slowly, she tugs at the hem of your sweatpants until your large cock pops out, nearly slapping her in the face. “Isn’t he so big and thick, girls?” 

Before you even have a chance to blink, your cock disappears into her gaping mouth, drawing gasps from the trainees. It’s no surprise that Nayeon is the main vocalist with how well she can use her throat. Her bunny teeth slightly graze against your length, a sensation none of the other Twice members could reproduce, while her tongue expertly works on your head with each buck of your hips.

Despite the incredible feeling of getting your dick sucked, your focus is mainly on the reactions of the girls. A wall of disgust and apprehension is still up, but you can see cracks start to form. The squirming of legs, the biting of their lips, their hands trailing down their bodies. It’s only a matter of moments before they succumb to the idea of becoming personal sluts for their manager.

The sound of Nayeon gagging on your member is always music to your ears, but you want more. You want to watch these girls break right in front of you. Grabbing Nayeon’s hair, you pull her off your cock and throw her to the floor so her plump ass is sticking towards you. Despite her cry of pain, Nayeon’s lips are curled into an excited smile as she looks back at you, your fingers hooked around the waistband of her pants.

“Now ladies, your manager might like it- Ah!” She squeals as you slap her bare ass, covered in nothing but a thong, thoroughly soaked in her arousal. “Your manager might like it rough, so it’s always important to be ready for- SHIT!” Her sentence gets cut short again as you impale her with your cock, pumping into her pussy at breakneck speeds. The sound of slapping skin and cries of pleasure echo throughout the room, filling the girls’ ears with a chorus of sinful acts.

You watch in delight as the girls start to get restless, their chests rising and falling as their breaths get heavier and heavier. None of them dare to break first, but it’s obvious that they want to touch themselves so badly. They just need a little encouragement.

“It’s okay, girls,” you say, panting with fervor. “You can touch yourselves.”

Haewon is the first to break. Almost immediately as the words leave your mouth, her hand shoots into her pants, digging her digits into her wet pussy. Sullyoon follows soon after, massaging her breasts with her free hand. Lily struggles to hold on, but eventually falls victim to her desires at the sight of her fellow trainees fingering themselves combined with her senior getting pounded into oblivion.

The sounds of their cute little moans mixed with Nayeon’s drives you to the brink of orgasm. Nayeon, sensing this, pushes her ass into you, meeting your hips with each thrust.

“Oh my god oppa, I’m about to cum! Fucking cum inside me while they watch!” She screams. You sink your hands into Nayeon’s ass, holding on for support as you feel the pressure build in your loins. As you gaze at the trainees, their bodies melting with passion, you and Nayeon’s orgasm melds together, your juices swirling deep inside her pussy. After nearly a decade of managing and fucking each member of Twice, this is the most intense orgasm you have ever experienced.

The both of you collapse breathlessly onto the linoleum floor of the dance room. The girls seem to have reached their own happy little ending as you glance at their weary bodies, barely clinging onto the chairs anymore. Nayeon giggles watching them, her fingers playing with the mixture of your cum leaking out her pussy.

“Oh, sweet girls, the fun isn’t over yet,” she comments, her smile widening with glee. “Now, who wants to lick the cum out of my pussy first?”

[hotshotsxyz]

heart is beating heavily

(buddie) (s8 spec) (1k) several people asked for more of this town is only gonna eat you so this is that. unfortunately i am still feeling evil, so please enjoy buck's pov of the same events :) btw the title of both of these fics comes from the song bloody shirt by to kill a king, which i played on repeat while writing these cw: mass shooting / gun violence

Buck’s breath leaves him in a sharp exhale when he hits the ground. It hurts, but not��not where it should. His chest, his back, they’re on fire. His head, though, as violently as he was thrown to the ground, never makes contact with the cement.

The only thing he can see now is Eddie. Eddie, hovering above him, eyes wild. He looks—cornered. Trapped. Only he’s the one pressing Buck into the sticky floor of the arena, not the other way around, and he doesn’t understand why.

“Eds,” he tries to say, but it comes out as more of a croak.

Eddie shakes his head sharply, almost—

Panicked.

Buck takes a breath and it hurts. His thoughts feel sluggish in a way they never really are. He tries to take stock of what he knows anyway.

His body is screaming in pain.

Eddie is afraid. (Why is Eddie afraid? What could possibly—)

They’re on the floor. (Eddie pushed him to the floor. Why would he—)

The space around them is filled with a cacophonous noise that Buck can’t quite identify.

Pain. Fear. Sharp popping noises that make Buck’s ears hurt, and—

Screaming.

Oh.

Buck presses his lips together and tips his chin toward his chest in an approximation of a nod. Eddie exhales, warm against his cheek. His face does something complicated, and then—

I’m sorry, Eddie mouths, and before Buck can figure out what for, white hot pain lances through his chest.

In his mind he screams.

In reality, he bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood. They’re in danger, and he won’t—As long as he’s still breathing, Eddie won’t leave him here. Even if he should. He won’t protect himself, won’t run, won’t hide. The least Buck can do is keep from drawing attention toward them, but in the moment, it feels like the hardest thing he’s ever done.

“—so good,” Eddie breathes into his ear. “I got you; I promise.”

Buck wants to believe that almost as much as he wishes Eddie would just save himself. Every breath he takes is harder than the one before, though, and it occurs to him that soon, he might draw his last. If he has to die, Eddie’s face is a pretty incredible last thing to see. He just wishes it wasn’t twisted in pain and fear.

It takes a minute for Buck to catch up with his own thoughts. Pain. That’s—he’s seen it in Eddie’s expression enough times to know it intimately. Why is he in pain? Eddie presses his cheek to Buck’s before he can interrogate the expression further.

“Slow, steady breaths, okay? You have to breathe through it, even if it feels like you can’t.”

The scrape of Eddie’s jaw against his sends something like a shiver down Buck’s spine. There’s something—something important, but—it feels just out of reach.

“You have to, Buck, I can’t—I just need you to hold on,” Eddie whispers, quietly wrecked.

He’s trying. God is he trying. But it’s—every breath feels like pulling fire into his lungs. With every exhale, he feels a tiny bit weaker, a tiny bit worse. Eddie pulls away slightly, and Buck feels the absence like a missing rib.

“Hear that?” Eddie asks, brushing a thumb across Buck’s cheekbone.

He doesn’t—he doesn’t hear anything other than Eddie, but he’s not sure he wants to.

“We’re so close, Buck.”

Something settles in his chest at the sound of his name on Eddie’s lips, louder than before, drenched in something that sounds like relief. He blinks once, twice, slow and heavy.

“Come on, eyes on me,” Eddie says sharply. And—oh, when did he get so far away?

Eddie pulls the hem of his shirt to his teeth and—oh god. That’s not Buck’s blood. He’s—Eddie’s hurt too, but Buck can’t make his mouth work, can’t even keep his eyes open long enough to—

“No!” Eddie commands. A new pain accompanies his voice. “You’re staying right here with me, got it?”

He has to—has to tell Eddie—he doesn’t—

“That’s perfect, you’re perfect,” Eddie says, eyes shining.

A lump forms in his throat.

“Just keep—c’mon Buck, just keep fighting. I need—you have to be okay.”

He does. He does have to be okay because Eddie’s not and he’s acting like he doesn’t even know.

“Hurt,” Buck forces out.

“I know,” Eddie says, but he doesn’t! “I know it hurts, I’m sorry.”

Buck lets out a frustrated groan. He tries to shake his head, and when that fails, to lift his hand to Eddie’s abdomen.

Eddie turns away from him, and if Buck could scream now, he would.

“Alright,” he says, turning back to Buck. “I’m going to get you onto that gurney. Let me do all the work, okay?”

No! No he can’t! Buck tries to tell him again, tries to force anything through his lips that Eddie will understand. You’re—“hurt,” he manages again. He can’t even lift his hand now. He’s dying and he’s going to take Eddie with him.

Eddie says something he can’t parse, and suddenly he’s moving, being lifted dizzyingly high off the ground. He sees—

A body. A swarm of cops. Uniformed paramedics and EMTs running in every direction imaginable.

One of them, he just needs one of them to look at Eddie. He just needs one of them to see. He’s still walking, still talking. He still has time.

Eddie drops him onto what must be a gurney, and immediately it begins to roll. Buck allows his head to loll away from Eddie and towards—

An EMT! She can—she can do something. She can—

She’s not looking at him.

She’s not looking at Eddie either. She’s looking straight ahead and under any other circumstances Buck would compliment her for her pragmatic understanding of the urgency of the situation. But she’s walking too fast and Eddie’s beginning to stumble.

“Diaz, is that—” Yes, yes! Someone sees him. Someone else knows—

“—were you shot?”

Buck gets his head around just in time to watch Eddie collapse into the arms of a firefighter he doesn’t recognize.

He wants to scream, to sob, to thrash against the restraints keeping him on the gurney. He wants to—

Wants to—

Needs—

Eddie.

[miguelhugger2099]

Love ain't a Science!

Summary: Miguel takes notes on your dates. You just want him present with you. Miguel x Reader, Fluff, Drabble.

Liking Miguel wasn’t easy. Well, it was, it’s just he made it hard for himself. You sat across from him in a diner, milkshake in front of you while you sipped from the straw and stared down at Miguel while he scribbled in his notebook. His glasses slipped down his nose and he scrunched his face up to lift it back. His eyebrows were furrowed as he mumbled to himself and left his own milkshake unattended. You sipped loudly from your cup with a deadpan expression, hoping to get Miguel’s attention but he was still in his own world. You began to think about the last ‘date’ you went on with Miguel. It went very similar to this. Both of you went to the same diner as today, a step up from last time when he couldn’t decide where to go, but you had picked a different milkshake from today. He recommended one from the menu and you smiled happily and accepted it. Miguel seemed pleased at your response, gaining a bit of confidence and standing straighter next to you as you ordered and he paid. Only when you got to your seats, the booth at the corner of the wall next to the window, he pulled out his notebook from his backpack. He began scribbling like he is now, just a little less tense. He asked you questions about yourself and even asked what you liked and didn’t like–if the milkshake was good. You responded to all of them happily, beaming he seemed much more interested. Until today, where you went to the same diner and instead of ordering the milkshake Miguel recommended, you ordered a different flavor and paid for yourself. He snapped his head down towards you, baffled and not realizing you had paid while he was slack jawed. When you go to your familiar seats, Miguel pulls out that damned notebook and looks up at you from his glasses, an unsure look on his face. “Did you not like the one from last time?” He asked softly. You blink and look at your strawberry milkshake. You had chocolate previously. “I did,” You nodded. “I just thought about trying something different today and to pay on my own as thanks for last time.” You smiled at him and took your first sip from the drink.

Miguel let out a sigh as he looked at you, still unsure. He opens his notebook and begins scribbling in it. Has been for the last twenty minutes. His milkshake had gone lukewarm, whipped cream slipping down the glass and cherry nearly toppling over. Your sipping became loud and obnoxious as you finished the drink, chewing on the plastic straw in mild annoyance. Deciding you had enough, you slid the empty glass to the side and snatched his notebook from his hands. Miguel gasped, his eyes meeting yours in a frightened gaze and tried reaching for his notebook across the table but you held it up and away from him with a frown on your lips. “Just what is in this notebook that you bring it and ignore me every time we hang out?” You tsked and flipped open the notebook, Miguel letting out a strangled yelp when you did so. Miguel was rendered helpless, his cheeks growing warm since he was unable to be rough with you and fight for it back so, he let you skim through it.

Inside his notebook were various pages filled to the brim with messy writing about your past dates with him. All ranging from the very beginning, crossing out places you may or may not have liked so he could pick the best option to writing down your favorite foods to find the best meal he could give you. You saw your answers to his questions scribbled on the next page, crossing out ideas that didn’t fit what you liked. Other random spots were drawings of your face done completely out of angles, figuring out each angle and curve of your features to its perfection. His recent page was even more scribbled on why his ‘hypothesis’ of you liking chocolate milkshakes didn’t work this time. Your frown broke into a smile, flattering blooming in your chest. You started laughing which prompted Miguel to sink in his seat, place his elbows on the table and cover his blushing face with his hands. “Are you seriously using science on our dates?” You asked between laughter. Miguel grumbles, his face growing hotter by the second. “I’m not one of your experiments, Miggy.” You close the notebook and tap it on his head that made him peek through his fingers. You smiled reassuringly at him with a few giggles escaping you. “I’m sorry.” He apologized, dropping his hands to reveal the dark red on his cheeks. You shook your head. “I’ll allow it this time, but I’m keeping this,” You waved the notebook before setting it down next to you. Miguel restrains himself from reaching out to take it back. “Just stay with me. Here. You won’t figure me out by studying me. I like you, You like me–let’s not make this complicated.” You explained and set your hands on the table. He sets his own hands on the table, awkwardly looking at the marbled surface. He glances at his melted and warm milkshake and looks at you. You give an encouraging nod to him. Miguel takes his glass and brings the straw to his mouth, a sheepish grin on his lips as he looks at you. You don’t break eye contact as he takes his first sip and laughed when the taste registers in his mouth and he gags, coughing and desperately trying to swallow it down. “How was it?” You laugh. He sputters a bit, his voice a little hoarse.

“Really, really stale.” He coughs and you keep laughing. He looks at how much brighter you seemed now and his heart skips a beat. Miguel pushes his glasses to the bridge of his nose and smiles softly while your laughing died down to giggles. This was much easier than using science.

A/N: *grips shy nerd miguel in my grasp so hard his eyes bug out of his sockets* quieres?

[last-starry-sky]

kinktober day 31 - scars // monsterfucking - pt.3

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

poly!141 (ft. warlock/magical!price, werewolf!soap, vampire!gaz, and ghoul/undead thing!ghost) x f!witch!reader

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 2.1k 💀, NONCON/DUBCON: mind control, kissing, touching, nippleplay, mentions of blood and murder but nothing graphic, scenting, cliff-hanger ending because I am the fucking worst (but also pt. 4 will come out tomorrow, so don't worry my loves 🥰).]

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass, @jaguarthecat

His kiss was gentle, cool lips sliding across yours once, then twice, with pressure enough to force you to open. Your soft cry was caught between your faces as he moved, sucking across your upper lip. You trembled in his arms, but his hand on the back of your head kept you grounded in place.

As if you would have wished to be anywhere else.

Your fingers grasped at the dense weave of his vest, urging him to come closer. You let out a disappointed sigh when he pulled away, his nose sliding against yours. It made you shiver. He must have been looking for you for a while outside, because he felt almost as cold as the air. 

“Gaz,” you sighed as he wrapped his arm tighter around your lower back, forcing your hips together. 

His hand on the back of your head slid down around to the side of your face, then down your neck. You shut your eyes, shiver running through you as he stole your warmth. 

“Look at me, baby,” he said, husky voice gentle but firm. 

You obeyed, fake lashes fluttering back open as he stroked the backs of his fingers down your neck. You swore you saw the same red flash in his eyes from before as he began to speak, but the more you tried to remember what he said, the murkier your memory became. He must have told you to go inside, because you remembered the distinctive sound of the screen door slamming behind you. Did he tell you to go upstairs? The stairs creaked under your boots, so he must have. 

Something of your mind returned to you as you stood at the foot of your bed. The room was cold, wind fluttering your curtains from the open window, and the whole house was dark. You could feel it. Only the shaded, yellow light from your bedside lamp lit the room. You looked down at your feet, still in your boots, and struggled to piece together why and how you let yourself do that. You hated wearing shoes in the house. 

The door scraping open on it’s hinges broke you out of that train of thought. You held your breath until the dark figure revealed himself to be Price. Only Price. Oh thank whatever god was looking down on you. You deflated, letting out a lungful of air in a relieved sigh. 

“Price,” you said, wiping a hand across your forehead, voice tinted with a bit of mania. “Am I glad to see you.”

Price didn’t answer you, only looking about your room. His eyes darted to all the corners, sweeping along the floor as he slowly paced toward you, movements slow and tactical. You let your hand fall from your head, smile slowly dying on your face. 

“Price?” you asked, eyebrows tensing together in confusion as he backed you up against your bed. He was silent as the grave, his presence alone making you shiver, that guilty pit hollowing your stomach and you hadn’t even-

One hand gripped your elbow, fingers tensing tight enough to make you wince. Your eyes flew wide, looking at his for any reasoning, any mercy, but you found only a hard, empty, stone-blue stare. You flinched as he reached up to your face with his pointer finger, drawing in a quick breath as he pressed it to your lips.

“What did he tell you to do?” he said, speaking clear and firm. 

You were confused until your mouth started to speak and you couldn’t stop yourself. Then, you were terrified. 

“Go inside,” you droned, panic spiking through you. This isn't you. You aren't the one in control. “Upstairs. To your bedroom. Open your window and turn on the light. Wait for me. Tell Price I said-” 

He pulled his finger away from your mouth before you could finish, sealing the rest of the message behind your stubbornly shut lips. His own mouth pressed into a thin line, his eyes burning holes in the floor. 

You felt sick. What . . . what was happening? How had . . . had Gaz? What had he done? What had Price just done? You heart hammered in your chest, more sacred now than you had been facing Brandon not a minute ago. Fuck, you’d rather face ten Brandon's, a room of them, even, than deal with this. 

“Price?” you whispered, trembling, fearful of what Gaz had done . . . what he had just done. Was there any escape? Who would you look to for help now?

Price answered with the press of his warm, worn hand to your cheek, thumb stroking soothingly over your skin.

“It’s okay, love. Everything is going to be okay,” he said soft and slow, icy eyes gone soft as he held your shaking form. He leaned down to brush his nose to yours, his mustache tickling your lips. “Done nothing wrong, just . . .” He broke away to collect his thoughts for a moment, before snapping back. He leaned in close enough this time for his lips to touch yours, eyes open just enough for the yellow shine behind you to catch on his iridescent blue. “Just didn’t expect our girl to be so much like us.”

Your hands caught in the stiff wool of his robe, a gasp sneaking out before his mouth closed over yours. His lips pressed to yours, a dance both hungry and delicate, holding himself back and beckoning you forward. The rough pinpricks of his facial hair had you mewling, writhing in his grip as his hands ran down your back, desperately trying to grab at your ass covered in silky black. 

There was a creak behind you. Price broke away first, you following a second later. Your eyes widened, watching Gaz pull himself through your open window, his foot on the loose boards just below. 

“Don’t mind me,” he said slinking up to the bed, tossing off his coat as he pulled himself up and across on his knees. 

He stopped between you and Price, who had pivoted you a half-turn, almost as if to put you on display. Gaz sat back on the heels of his shoes, picked something from between his oversized, red-tinged, canine, before flashing you that winning smile of his. You were sure he was trying to disarm you, calm you enough to release your death-grip from Price’s coat, but it wasn’t working. You could see the blood smeared across his mouth now, the faint red on his dark skin that he didn’t quite manage to wipe fully away. 

His smile fell, flopping into a frown as he tilted his head, following your eyes that darted back and forth between him and Price.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at you and then Price. “Did I interrupt?”

“No,” Price answered, face in the top of your head, large hand stroking down your hair. “Don’t think she understands quite yet, though.”

With that, he pulled you away from him, letting Gaz stroke at your cheek. You shivered. He had blood underneath his nails as well.

“Sorry I scared you, baby,” he cooed, shuffling closer as Price, your safety net, stepped farther away. You stood, stock-still and trembling, as Gaz pulled you into his arms, gently caressing your arms and shoulders, pecking kisses on your ear and cheek. “Didn’t want to do it, honest. Never controlled you before, I swear. Believe me, right? Just had to-” he sighed as you squirmed away from a kiss to your neck. “Had to take care of business, you know? Keep you safe.”

“You did what you had to do,” Price said, nodding and unbuttoning his long robe to reveal his plain street clothes beneath. He ran his hands down his legs, heavy eyes following as Gaz touched you. 

“Never would have let that monster hurt you,” Gaz snarled in your ear, a hiss escaping after as he ran his hands up your torso, stopping just below the ruffled bodice that contained your breasts. 

He drew in a shaking breath then leaned down to kiss the hinge of your jaw. You stopped breathing when he brought one hand up to wrap easily around the span of your neck, the silver pentagram charm of your choker dangling over his fingers.

There was another commotion behind you. All three of you turned to watch as Soap, with the least finesse possible, scrambled in through your window. He tripped over the sill, landing with a hard thump on the wooden floor. Gaz and Price laughed at their friend. Gaz muffled his chuckle in the crook of your neck, making you shiver from his cold skin.

“What I miss?” Soap asked, scrambling up from the floor, looking at each of you as he kicked off his shoes and stripped himself of his flannel.

Price waved him over, smothering his smirk. Soap didn’t hesitate, crawling across your bed on his hands and knees to occupy the space between Price and Gaz. He joined in immediately, hot, bold, hands joining Gaz’s as he settled in next to you. You whined, bowing off of Gaz, as he groped your breasts through the thin fabric. He was so warm. Soap groaned, a wolf-like whine squeaking in the back of his throat, as he squished your pebbled nipples in his large, hairy hands. 

“So pretty like this,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss from your clavicle to the swell of your breast as he palmed it in his hand. 

Your hand shot out, grabbing at his undershirt. With all your sapped strength, with everything in your scrambled mind, you balled your hand in the white fabric and pulled him toward you. With his surprised face a breath away from yours, you hissed a question at him.

“What. is. going. on.”

He looked at you confused, dark rings setting in around his pretty blue eyes, the color sinking until it was dark and yellow. He looked back at Price.

“You didn’t tell her?” he asked, receiving nothing but silence in return. “Should I-”

“Think she knows already,” Price interrupted, leaning forward to stand up. The bed jostled as he left, walking around to look at you writhing in Gaz and Soap’s arms before continuing. “Just doesn’t want to believe it.” With that, he continued walking around the foot of your bed and out of your eye sight. 

The two men’s touches became more bold, Gaz biting kisses down your neck as Soap ran his hands up and down your thighs, holding your leg open to paw at your panties. You heard Price close the window behind you, softly latching the antique frame shut before closing the curtain. He was always so careful and understanding with your house. You moaned when Soap suddenly pressed his fingers to your pussy, squishing at the wet fabric.

“Fuck, can ye’ smell that Gaz?” he groaned into your chest. 

Gaz nodded, huffing a breath into your ear. His hands finally found their way to your breasts, cool fingers rolling your already erect nipples between thumb and forefinger. You shivered as Soap swiped again and again across your clothed sex. 

“Ready,” Gaz groaned.

“Ripe,” Soap replied. You squealed, tears in your eyes, Gaz licking up the long column of your neck as you squirming in his lap, Soap shucking your panties off your hip. 

“Now now,” Price said calmly, pulling you backwards out of the two men’s grip like a delivering angel until you were seated against his chest. Soap and Gaz paid him no mind, working together to finish pulling your underwear off your legs. They each took a foot and removed your boots as well.

“No need to panic, right dove?” Price said, voice low and smooth as honey, tipping your head up with a hand under your jaw to force you to look into his eyes. There was something so syrupy sweet in the way he looked at you, eyes crinkling around the edges as you breathed in a sparkling, purple haze. “We’re here to protect you. Just want to share, understand?” 

Protect you . . . share . . . under-understand? His words swirled in your mind. Thrumming over and over as your pulse pounded behind your sleepy eyes. Your heart slowed. Your breathing regulated. You went slack in his arms. 

“Understand me, love?” he asked against your lips, finger stroking across your jaw as a blush bloomed across your cheeks. 

You nodded. You understood. He rewarded you with a kiss that had you trembling with need. Beautiful sparks lit up your body. You shivered as they fizzled across your skin, light dying as he pulled away, leaving you so cold and lonely once again. You whined, hands grabbing, clawing desperately, at what they could to pull him back: his thigh, arm, face-

He tapped twice on your jaw, making you stop. 

“Calm now, love,” he said nuzzling your nose while he placed your hands at your sides, resting on the bed like stones. “You’ll get more than enough soon, right Ghost?”

[galacticsuperstitions]

the minds of a lab at three different points (LONG rambling under the cut)

I am constantly in awe of the analyses people put out about Arknights on this website. I feel like my own interpretations are somewhat lacking as a result, but I was confident enough to post this, at least. I've had this idea for a long time now, I think since Lone Trail released, but I've only been able to make the time for it now.

Rhine Lab has so many fucked up elements and people involved in it that it's actually impressive. They were really gunning for "most unethical scientific consortium" reward. Really, though, it's just the result of Kristen gunning for her parents' wishes. All of the directors want something and all of those somethings are different.

Things I want to mention or just feel proud of (allowing myself this because of how long this took):

-I was originally planning on crossing out Saria's surname to reflect that we still don't know what it is in canon, but I don't know why whoever has this poster would do that, so I just kept it in. Hermon refers to Mount Hermon, which Saria's name apparently derives from. Technically, her name here is the same thing twice. Oh well.

-I don't know who this poster belongs to. It's just in some Rhine Lab tech's personal desk, I guess? Doesn't explain the doodles, though. Maybe they were bored and feeling spiteful about the potential job insecurity of your boss being comatose in space.

-I realized only while making this post that I made Saria's, Muelsyse's, and Jara's doodles reference Kristen, yet Kristen's only references herself and her parents. Completely unintentional, but appropriate nonetheless.

-I am so happy with how the poster came out. It makes up for how hard I had to fight Canva for it to come out like that. Here it is in full if you want to look at it closely for whatever reason. (writing an actual description for this thing was fun!)

-Andenate doesn't actually have a face under the sticky note. That's why he's still Mike Wazowski'd in the poster png. I didn't feel like drawing one since it wouldn't be shown in the finished pieces anyway. His jacket is just the same as Magallan's.

-Ifrit's picture board was a literal last-minute addition. It's why the images are sketches rather than being in the lineless style of the poster. It feels fitting, though, so I'm keeping it that way. Seeing Ifrit all grown up and doing so well in Lone Trail was wonderful. There's something in her being happy and healthy and also surrounded by not just her loved ones and friends from Rhine Lab, but also people outside of it. She's cultivated her life to be as fulfilling as she wants it to be, and while there is still room to grow, she has plenty of support and insight from others for it to do so. I may be misrepresenting her a bit (the sleepiness doesn't help), but man. I love Ifrit. She's so cool.

[moonstruckme]

hellooooooo, could you please make (when you have the time) something where James Potter has a girlfriend that its sooo touch starved but also has a hard time being touched/hugged (for some reason kissing doesn't bother her but she gets really shy with that) an she is unable to receive compliments, she tries to express her love in other ways tho

i'm that type of person so i would love to see something like that:(

Ugh same baby! Thanks for requesting :)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You and James are on opposite sides of the couch, and you feel like you’re going to combust. 

The issue is his foot. You’re covered by a blanket, but James’ foot is brushing your calf through the fabric, moving back and forth so slowly you wonder if he even realizes he’s doing it. And it’s not not nice, but even that tiny bit of contact (again, through a blanket) is almost too much for you. Every nerve in your body is at attention—you don’t think James could breathe in your direction without you noticing it—and you want him to cover your entire body with his even if it’ll probably kill you. 

“You doing alright over there, lovely?” James asks, eyes still on the TV. He must be paying more attention than you realize. 

And one of the difficult parts of your relationship with James is that there are some parts of you he simply cannot understand, but that won’t stop him from trying. Like, James is a naturally tactile person. He wants to hug and kiss and love on you all day long, as he made abundantly clear from your very first date. But you’re not. You want to be, you want to let him give you all the affection he has to offer and return it with twice the zeal, but no one touched you like this before him. Your family weren’t the physically affectionate type, and your friends didn’t bother with it around you, so James’ particular brand of overly touchy loving was…new. You crave it and yet when he gives it to you it feels foreign and borderline uncomfortable. You’d done your best to explain it to him, and James had taken it all in stride, though you could tell there was some mixture of pity and bafflement at your odd love/hate relationship with physical closeness. Now, he does his best to give you that particular form of affection in small doses. He checks with you before putting his hands on you, hugs you just until your blush gives you away, and restricts his casual contact with you to chaste areas. Like his foot and your calf.

“Mhm,” you reply, unsure how to explain the effect he’s having on you and unwilling to say anything that’ll make him stop.

Narrowed brown eyes move from the TV screen to your face. “Promise?”

“I’m okay.” 

“Something’s bothering you, though.” 

You hesitate. You don’t want to lie to him, it’s just that it’s more complicated than that. “Not really.” 

“And you’re not really avoiding the question, right?” James grins at you, though it’s tinged with worry. “C’mon, angel, be straight with me. Something’s on your mind, yeah?”

You’re silent, but an involuntary glance downwards gives you away. James’ foot is drawn back towards him in an instant. “Ah, that was too much, huh? My bad.” 

“No, James, I—” you sigh heavily. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, lovely girl,” he says it easily, but not without gravity. “I’m the one who didn’t check if it was okay.” 

“But you shouldn’t have to check.” You’re shaking your head, drawing your legs into your chest, shrinking from him even in your frustration that you shrink from him. “I don’t want you to feel bad about touching me, James. It’s not like it scares me or anything, I don’t know why I’m so weird about it.”

“Hey.” His voice is lightly chiding, remonstrance gentled. He’s not touching you, but he’s doing his next best thing, turning his body to face you so you’ll know you have his full attention. “I know, you’ve told me how you feel about it. I don’t take it personally, sweetheart, I just want you to be comfortable. You don’t have to be scared to not be having a good time.” 

You let the quiet noise of the TV fill the silence for a moment, looking at him. He’s smiling just a tiny bit, even now. He told you once that he can’t help being some degree of happy when he’s with you, no matter what’s happening around him. His eyes are big and brown and open behind his glasses, eyes that haven’t learned to dull themselves for the sake of self-preservation, but there’s a slight pinch around the corners. He’s evaluating you, trying to figure out where your mind is going and how to meet it there. 

“I think my problem,” you say, trying the weight of each word before voicing it, “is that I want you to be able to show…affection, whatever way is natural to you.” A crease appears on James’ forehead and you can see the rebuttal forming on his tongue, but he lets you say your piece. “And it makes me feel bad that I’m stopping you from doing that, and that I can’t show it back to you either.” 

The crease deepens. James has an easier time choosing his words than you did. “I don’t mind not being able to touch you. I mean, would I have my hands all over you day and night if you wanted it?” He flashes a flirty smile. “Obviously. But I care about you, not that, and you aren’t as used to that stuff. The idea of touching you is as unappealing to me as I imagine it is to you, because you’d be uncomfortable the whole time. What kind of boyfriend would I be then, huh?” He sticks out a foot to nudge your knee gently. “Anyway, I don’t need you to be all over me to know you care. You think I thought the muffins I ate this morning made themselves?” He raises his eyebrows at you, nodding for you to answer. 

Your face warms. “No.” 

James nods encouragingly. “As I suspected. And that was some of the best love I’ve ever tasted! Plus, those little notes you write when you’re going to be home late or you know I have a busy day? Angel,” he says, voice dropping into soft earnestness, “those make my entire week.”

You bite your lip, but you’re powerless to stop the spread of your smile. “I’m glad you like them,” you reply bashfully. 

“Like them?” James throws up his arms, indignant. “Sweetheart, I can feel the love coming off those things like you’ve drowned them in amortentia. Don’t get me wrong, I love hugging you, but that?” He shakes his head. “There’s nothing better.”

You imagine your complexion is approaching fire-hydrant red about now, but you’re so happy to hardly care. “Thanks, Jamie.” 

“Thank you, angel,” he says, and you can tell he’s smothering his grin intentionally to make you take him seriously. “I mean it, I wouldn’t want you any other way. You’re my best girl, understand?”

You can’t look at him for embarrassment, but you nod. After a moment, James’ silence draws your eyes back to him, to find him grinning. The sight is familiar, as is the warm, fuzzy sensation that spreads through your insides. His eyes narrow slightly, assessing you. 

“Do you feel like a hug, lovely girl?” 

You nod again as you go to him, abandoning your blanket. James’ arms open, his legs parting automatically to slot you between them. One hand finds your mid-back while the other cradles the nape of your neck, and you press both of yours to his shoulder blades, drawing him downwards and into you. He makes the most of it, fingers curling in the fabric of your shirt. You can feel his heartbeat a few inches to the right of yours. 

A tiny shiver of pleasure goes through you, and you tighten your grip on him so he won’t let go, but James understands, and pulls you closer.

[creativesaturn]

hey!! i absolutely love your writing style, and i have notifications specifically on so i don’t miss when you post :) i had an idea that literally just came to me but i don’t really have any plot to go with it 😭

so basically, any cm character (maybe hotch, emily or spence?) walking in on the reader drawing said character & the reader gets really embarrassed and tries to put it away, but the character actually really likes the drawing and asks to keep it and just something wholesome idk 😭🫶

absolutely don’t feel pressured to write this, just had an idea and thought i’d share <3

Summary: Hotch finds out about your drawing hobby.

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 515

a/n: sorry this took so long to post! I wanted to scrap it and redo it but I decided not to. That's really sweet of you thank you so much!!! hope you enjoy 💞💞

Aaron knocked on your hotel door, not once, but twice.

You were too busy listening to music that filled your sense of hearing, and completely focusing on the pencil in your hand.

For the past few days you've been struggling to find something to draw. It was one of your hobbies that you genuinely enjoyed, but it was always hard finding motivation.

But today, on the jet. You burned the image of Aaron sitting by the window during the sunset, just so you could draw it later. It was a sight for sore eyes. You didn't care if he could notice you staring, you needed to keep every detail engraved in your mind.

So--as soon as you step foot in your hotel room, you knew exactly what you were going to do.

"y/n?" Aaron's voice startling you as he stood inches behind you.

You quickly turned around, looking up at the tall man. You pulled your headphones out your ears; mouth agape unsure what to say.

He glances behind you to see what had your attention, his face had an expression you couldn't quite make out. So, you thought of the worst.

You quickly turned back, taking the piece of paper to turn over and hide.

"Is that me?" He asked, voice soft as he spoke.

"Uhm--Yeah.. Yeah, it-it is.." You stumbled over your own words, "It's totally stupid though, 's not even done yet." You mumbled, your voice so low he was unsure if he heard you.

"It's not stupid," He retorted, reaching for the paper. You quickly pulled back, watching his eyes as they widened.

"Let me see."

"No.."

"Please?"

You looked down at your hands, sighing as you slowly handed him the paper. You fidgeted with your fingers as you looked anywhere but his eyes, afraid of what you'll see in his expression.

"You're very good with details," He complimented you. "Where'd you learn how to do this?" He asked sincerely, looking up from the drawing to look at your face.

"Just something I learned over the years," You shrugged. "I get bored a lot." You looked up at him, profiling his reaction.

He had a soft smile, his eyebrows raised as if he was impressed and you swore his eyes glistened.

"Can I keep it?" Aaron asked.

"You--You want to keep it?" You asked, shocked at the question.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" He chuckled, bringing the page down to his side to show he had his attention on you.

"Because.. I don't know..." You shrugged, unable to hide the smile that he gave you.

"The team is waiting for us, by the way." Aaron laughed, seeing the bright pink that danced across your face.

"Okay." You nodded, making your exit out of the hotel.

Not many people knew you drew, at least well. When you'd tell people they expect stick figures and doodles you'd find on the side of a middle schoolers test. And every time they'd notice, it was always the same expression. It never failed to bring you joy and validation from others compliments.

reposts and comments are appreciated <3

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for ditching adults to hang out with children?

Pretty much what the title says. I (26F) enjoy the company of children more than adults. I find it hard to talk to adults. I'm always not talkative in their company. That's why, I only managed to keep only 2 of my friends that I grew up with, I feel as if people grow up and leaving me behind, and relate more to children. The only friendship I had at work quickly fell apart for many reasons, but the person being older than me and me not knowing how to talk to her was a big factor.

In family reunions that we have twice weekly, I tend to prefer running around and playing hide and seek with children and toddlers, or talking about their day, their favorite colors, making silly faces at babies, teaching kids how to write and draw etc etc. I'm able to pass this off as "babysitting" because "I love children but have none of my own", so no one found it weird yet and they can have time without having to keep an eye on their children, even in parties and weddings, I grab the nearest baby relative so no one will talk to me and potential suitors would assume I'm married, but the truth, I just find the things children talk about more interesting than adults and they understand me better. They are easier to talk to. I have better relationships with the younger relatives aged 0-16 but the more they grow up I start talking to them less and less. The cousins that are around my age and used to be my best friends growing up are now very distant to me because I don't know how to talk to them anymore, and I get along with their kids instead. They do often comment on this part though. "Why don't you talk with us" and stuff like that.

Specially oneday, my cousin (13F) had her friends over in the same time as we were gathered in their house. I went in her room to say hi and intended to leave immediately, but I saw they were playing a fun card game and ended up joining them. We were talking and laughing a lot for a while, until they asked me what grade I was in. My cousin laughed and told them, "she has a full time job!" And all of them were shocked but asked about my job and stuff. Thank God they weren't uncomfortable with it or anything, but my sister (33F) saw me and gave me a weird look that prompted me to leave. She exasperatedly asked my why was I doing that, since it was clear what I was doing doesn't count as babysitting.

I do think it's a non issue for adults to be friends with minors, however I question myself because 1. I'm sorta lying about the babysitting thing 2. I'm mainly friends with minors. I keep reading about how that's a red flag if an adult only interacts which children and I keep feeling like an AH for it. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[whoistartaglia]

you avoid your crush.

how do you deal with an unwanted but undeniable crush? you avoid them: save the friendship, mourn the relationship. or, so you thought.

including: cyno, the wanderer.

warnings: gender neutral reader, slight angst, mostly fluff.

cyno.

when you realized you’ve developed feelings for cyno, your best friend, you didn’t know what to do. you couldn’t tell him and ruin the friendship. that would be a disaster, and break your heart twice over: once, to lose cyno as a friend, and again, to lose him as anything more. so you resigned yourself to only have your heart broken once: you would avoid cyno until your feelings disappeared, and keep your friendship with him intact.

so that’s exactly what you do. everything was going fine, too—until today, when cyno cornered you in a small alcove at the akademiya.

“oh, cyno…! funny seeing you here…”

“is it, though?” he asks. “i do work here. we both work here, actually. wouldn’t it be stranger not to see me?”

yes, it is, but cuno doesn’t give you time to respond before he continues: “so isn’t it quite strange that i haven’t seen you in what? a week or two now?”

“yes… i guess.”

cyno waits for more, but you give him nothing else. you fidget under the weight of his stare. he’s observing you and you get the feeling like you’re an experiment gone wrong, a conclusion miscalculated.

“al-righ-t,” cyno finally says, drawing out each syllable. he hesitates for a second before his face hardens and he says, “if you want to avoid and ignore me and pretend i don’t exist, then you can avoid and ignore me and pretend i don’t exist. i can’t stop you, even if i hate it. but i would have at least wanted an answer as to why.”

cyno steps aside then, as if to tell you the conversation is gone, you’re free to go. but you don’t move, can’t move. you can’t even think as cyno steps away, only his words ringing in your ears: i would have at least wanted an answer as to why. you owed him that much, at least.

“wait, cyno—“ you take in a deep breath, and the words tumble out all at once. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry for avoiding you i— i really thought it was the best since i like you and you don’t like me, and i didn’t want to ruin our friendship but it just ended up hurting the both of us and it was a really stupid, but i didn’t know what else to do and… i’m really sorry.”

you look up when cyno doesn’t say anything. he’s still studying you, maybe even more intensely than before.

“yes.” he finally says.

“what?”

“it was really stupid.”

your face burns in embarrassment. cyno continues, “not just your plan—but that you thought we couldn’t be friends if i didn’t feel the same way back.”

“i know i just—“ you abruptly cut off, repeating what cyno just said in your head. “you feel… the same way back?”

“yes. i’d tell you it was stupid not to realize i also like you… but until now, i didn’t know you felt the same.”

“oh.” and then again, because you don’t know what else to say, “i’m sorry.”

cyno allows a faint smile to grace his lips. “i’ll forgive you this time, [name]. honestly, i’m just relieved you don’t hate me.”

“i could never hate you,” you say immediately.

“it didn’t feel like that this week. or last.” you look down again, disappointed that you allowed yourself to make cyno feel that way. he continues, a little gentler: “you’re going to have to make it up to me.”

“how?” you ask, already knowing you would do anything.

“how about you let me take you on a date? granted that’s something you probably want but there, you can tell me everything.”

you wouldn’t say no on any circumstance, but especially not when cyno’s finally smiling at you again. your relationship was off to a more than rocky start, but you find yourself hoping you can turn it around for the better.

the wanderer.

it was hard to avoid the wanderer as you were adventuring over teyvat together, just the two of you. when you first realized your feelings for him, and decided they would only prematurely end your expedition when he didn’t feel the same back, you swore to keep them a secret. to do that, you would need to distance yourself from him, but that proved rather difficult and… well, extremely obvious.

you stare into the flames of your small campfire. you sit opposite of the wanderer, though on previous cold nights like these, you probably would have been right next to him. similarly, you both would have trading stories and reminiscing about past adventures, not blanketed in this silence.

it’s clues like those, coupled with the equally obvious signs that you were had feelings for him, that let the wanderer discover your plan.

the wanderer leans back, resting on his elbows. the sun was setting, and already the stars would come out. on clear nights like these, you would spend hours—maybe the whole night—pointing out the different constellations.

looking at you now, eyes boring in the fire, the wanderer knows that’s not going to happen tonight. at least, not if he doesn’t do something about it.

“you’re quiet tonight,” he starts. you glance up sharply at him.

“yeah, i guess,” you mumble, looking back down.

“why?”

you trace circles in the dirt. “i’m just… tired. i guess. yeah, i might just go to bed early—“

“have you ever heard of,” the wanderer cuts you off, “the phrase, ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder?’”

you pause. he can’t possibly know… can he?

“i’ve know of it,” you reply tightly.

“so then you also know that you’re little idea of ignoring me in hopes that your feelings go away was doomed from the start, right?”

startled, you look back up again, and meet the wanderer’s gaze. you meet the wanderer’s gaze, and like all the times before, you know there’s no use in lying to him. not when he already suspects the truth. “i… yes.”

“and i assume you didn’t want me knowing because you didn’t think i liked you back?”

your silence is answer enough.

“well, you’re right.”

what.

what?

but then the wanderer cracks a smile, and he’s beside himself laughing: “oh, you should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“you’re the worst.” but now there’s a smile on your face, and you’re also laughing: at him, at your plan, at how despite your fears, the wanderer likes you back.

it makes you feel giddy, like you could spend the entire night laughing under the stars—and looking at the wanderer, now coming to sit next to you, you feel like you just might.

[cosmitton]

benjicot blackwood enemies/rival to lovers (?) with bracken!reader headcanons

A/N: I originally started writing this the day after the episode with “Benji” came out and never finished it until today, lol, so it’s not a very original idea. Sorry lol.

I know that he might not be Benji and that the show called him Davos, but idc idc idc. I think he fits as an aged-up Benji so that’s what he’ll be to me lol. Maybe if they give us actual Benji later in the show, I’ll come back to edit this to Davos. You can think of this as either Benji or Davos, it’s up to you but I’m referring to him as Benji.

Also, I can’t believe that the first thing I’m writing for HOTD is just because of this rabid squirrel that was on screen for maybe 5mins LMAO

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!F!Reader

Enemies/Rivals to Lovers(?)

Warnings: nsfw (not full-on smut, just a bit I think), a little violence, Benji being a little shit lol, reader is easily irritated oop-

As with pretty much everyone in House Bracken, you were raised to hate the Blackwoods

Regardless of whether or not anyone even remembered why at this point

As a woman, naturally there were a lot of people that opposed to you learning how to fight or participating in battle

No matter how hard you fought for it, it wasn’t your place

But you weren’t the type to just accept being pushed aside so easily

And, oddly enough, Benji was different from the other men you knew

He didn’t seem to care very much that you were a woman fighting, he just wanted someone to talk shit to

He cared more that you were a Bracken, and, even more than that, you were fun to fight and mess with

At this point, you couldn’t remember when or how this started, but it was a relatively regular occurrence for the two of you to butt heads

Occasionally coming to physical blows

Like right now

Benji really needed to learn how to shut up if he didn’t want to get punched in the face

Though he would probably say the same about you

Despite the fact that you both had swords you could’ve used, you both have a tendency to use fists with each other

“Here you spend all your time trying to prove yourself a fighter and that’s the best you can do? What a shame, Bracken.”

“Fuck yourself, Blackwood. You can prattle all you want but you have yet to draw blood when I have.”

Benji laughs, not even bothering to wipe that blood from his mouth

You try to ignore what the sight of him bloody does to you

“I’m merely being kind. We both know how much you enjoy having your hands on me. Who am I to deprive you?”

You can feel the heat creeping up your neck and into your face, but before you can respond, Benji is suddenly much closer to you

You didn’t realize how fast he could be

“Although, I’m sure we could figure out a much better way to have your hands on me if you’re so desperate.”

You’re stubbornly trying to ignore the feelings his deeper, raspy voice inspires in your belly

Instead you focus on the rage that hits you immediately

You’re both long past decorum at this point, so you don’t think twice before rushing him to tackle him to the ground

Benji’s still laughing, seeming to think this is all a game

You’re rolling around on the grass now, both of you trying to gain the upper hand on the other

For a moment, Benji uses his weight to pin you down

“I knew you couldn’t resist rolling around with me. We could find some place more comfortable-”

You bite his hand that’s pinning your shoulder

When he pulls away with a sound that’s halfway between amused and surprised, you throw your weight to roll him over

“Give up now, Blackwood, and I won’t cave your skull in.”

“You’d never harm my face, you enjoy it too much.”

“You’ve got quite a mouth on you, would that you could back it up.”

“Oh, you like my mouth, don’t you, Bracken? Don’t worry, I could show you just how talented it is if you’re so interested.”

You go to punch him before you come to a realization

Benji’s just laying there

He isn’t even trying to get up or throw you off

“What are you doing?”

“What?”

“You’re not even attempting to push me off.”

Benji grins and you immediately regret asking in the first place

“Why would I? I can get on board with you being on top if you so wish to be.”

You’re exasperated, what did you expect

You roll your eyes, frustrated that you’re not getting anywhere with this

Ignoring that you’re also frustrated because of the images his words conjure and, he’s right, you wouldn’t mind being on top either

“You’re a fool.”

You get up to walk away from him

You should’ve expected that Benjicot Blackwood wouldn’t give up so easily

He scrambles to tackle you by the knees and you catch yourself before you faceplant into the ground

Benji’s weight lands against your back and presses your chest down, your arms folded between the grass and your body

“Blackwood! Get the fuck off of me!”

His laugh is right next to your ear now and you hate the way it sends a thrill down your spine

“Come now, little spitfire, you’re running already?”

“I’d never run from a craven like you! I’ve just decided you’re not worth my time.”

You’re trying to wriggle out from underneath him, embarrassed by the way the warmth of his body encompasses yours

“Careful, you might hurt my feelings.”

“I’ll hurt you in much worse ways than that if you don’t get up immediately.”

You try to push yourself up by your arms, but that just presses you against him even more

And he makes a noise that’s like a sigh and a groan

Gods

That noise should not make your face warm and your thighs tingle the way it does

You’re both frozen now, unsure what to do with that new development

He drops his head so that it’s pressed against your neck and shoulder now

“…Ben?”

“I told you to be careful…” his voice is much deeper now, and you can feel it rumble from his chest and through your back

You could also feel something pressed against your ass

“What are you doing?” You ask again, because you don’t know what else to say

“Nothing.” He replies, but you can feel his hands on your waist now

You refuse to acknowledge the fact that you’re not trying to get away from him anymore

His hands start to move slowly up toward your chest, as if giving you a chance to tell him to back off

You don’t

You can feel his breath against your skin from where his face is tucked against your neck still

You’re breathing hard by the time his hands reach your chest

You know he can feel it because you can feel his smile against you

But he’s breathing hard too

Still, the idea that he’s affecting you more than you’re affecting him annoys you so you press yourself back against him harder

You’re rewarded with the same low noise he made earlier and you feel the same tingles between your thighs

He must take this as a challenge, too, because one of his hands moves to your thigh and squeezes

“Must I warn you yet again to be careful?” Benji breathes

“You may as many times as you wish, however I may not listen.”

He laughs breathlessly and presses himself harder against you, pushing you against the ground

In response, you press back again

And you two continue like that, pushing and pulling like the ocean, rhythmic

His hand moves further up your thigh, pressing between them

Your legs part further without thought

You’re not thinking of much but Benji anymore

The movements of his hips are getting more frantic, his breathing heavier

His hand finally slips down the trousers you’re wearing to touch your skin directly

And you learn that Benjicot Blackwood doesn’t know how to shut up even now

“Gods, I always wondered how soft you’d be.”

“I knew you’d be so warm, I dreamt about it.”

“I bet you’re so beautiful, too. Pretty little princess.”

“So wet, gods, have you thought about this as much as I have?”

You wondered if he even knew what he was saying at this point, considering it all just sounded like rambling now

But you also couldn’t deny it, you had thought about this multiple times – even in your dreams

You have no awareness of how quiet or loud the noises you’re making might be right now

Probably for the best, though – you’d most likely be embarrassed

Either way, you know Benji can still hear you because he won’t stop smiling

If you weren’t so distracted by his fingers right now, you’d punch his smug face again

He’s lucky his hands make up for his personality

You’re almost nervous by the feeling that’s quickly creeping up on you right now – having never experienced it before and unsure of what exactly will happen

He must notice by the way that you’re squirming, almost trying to get away

“It’s alright,” he murmurs, kissing your neck, “I’ve got you. I’m here, relax.”

You figure he must know more about it than you, which isn’t exactly surprising from what you’ve heard about what boys his age typically get up to at night

So you relax and give into the feelings he conjures in you with his fingers

He must be feeling similar things by the low moan-breaths he’s making and the quickening of his hips

You gasp, pressing your mouth against the back of your hand that grips the grass underneath you, when that building pressure finally snaps

Your thighs, almost on instinct, start to close around his hand that doesn’t stop moving between them

But his other hand moves to squeeze at your hip when his finally still, pressing his open mouth against your neck as he gasps lowly

His hips finally slow, seeming to come back to the world as you do

He’s still softly touching you, until you start to feel a bit too sensitive and squirm away

You’re both silent for a moment, aside from your harsh breaths

And now that you’re back to reality – you’re faced with one question more important than the others

Where do you two go from here?

[tubbypeddle]

Hi! I really like your writing, I was wondering how would part 5 characters react to a y/n with an uberman sleep schedule. personally, I only do it during summer.

hii!! thank you so much for the compliment, what!!!! you're so sweet 🫂

also, an uberman sleep schedule!! I had no idea what that was, I had to search it up! how interesting!!

For those who don't know, from what I found, an "uberman sleep schedule" is a form of polyphasic sleep where someone takes multiple 20 minute naps throughout the day, spaced approximately 4 hours apart. (Polyphasic sleep refers to a sleep schedule where you sleep more than twice in a single day)

for now, i'm only going to do the bucci gang, but if you want la Squadra too, just send in another ask! i'll be happy to 🫂 also, I apologize for the wait 😭 I got a little caught up with personal things, I didn't mean to put this off (I actually feel so bad it's not even funny)

(author's note: no smut in this one <33, also for underage characters it isn't exactly an "x reader" like what will be suggested for the canon adult characters, since I don't feel comfortable with that, but I hope you enjoy it anyway)

Giorno Giovanna

He's a little shocked by how easy you find sleep, and a little envious honestly

Ever since he was a child, he found it hard to fall asleep.

So the fact that you can just lie down for a nap and actually take a nap

He's a little jealous, not that you'll ever know. he's a master at hiding his feelings behind a straight face. Not jealous enough to do anything,

It's amusing to him, to find you in many places around Passione headquarters taking your little naps

sometimes, if he feels comfortable enough with you, he'll leave you little presents while you nap

just small things, like a little frog companion, or a cool rock he found with a note wishing you well

Bruno Bucciarati

He finds it endearing how strict you are with your schedule, if you're strict with it. You have a timer that you set before you sleep, and you wake up to it, always.

It's a little impressive, honestly

Bruno isn't one to have a very strict sleep schedule like yours is, he can't afford to.

So when you can just do that, it's adorable honestly.

plenty of little catnaps throughout the day

when he has time, you might be able to convince him to join you in a quick nap, though it might be a little difficult. it's hard enough for him to get to sleep at night without a nap in the middle of the day ruining his sleep schedule.

but when he does cave into your request, it's some of the most peaceful sleep he's ever had in his life.

Leone Abbacchio

he understands the appeal of taking cat naps throughout the day, and if his schedule allows for it, he'd do it too

it's not hard to convince him to take a nap with you, he loves any excuse to shirk work, especially if it's with you (much to Bucciarati's annoyance)

though, taking these naps with you fucks up his actual sleep schedule, so he ends up staying up really late into the night

usually, this would irritate him to no end, but since it's you he's staying up for, he doesn't mind

(especially if it means he gets more naps with you the next day)

Narancia Ghirga

he might be a little confused about why you sleep so often, though this isn't ill-intentioned

he means well!

he's just...a little confused (when is he not, honestly)

there's so much to do in the day! so much fun to have! why do you sleep so often?

be prepared for when you're sleeping out in the open, though, because he has a bad habit of fiddling with you while you sleep

his language of affection is touch, so he likes fiddling with your hands, or your hair, or even just poking you while you sleep

if you're a light sleeper, it's best to watch out for sleeping around him

he might even draw on your face

Guido Mista

he's actually pretty chill, pretty laid back, even if he does poke fun at you a little bit for sleeping so often even if he does the same thing

you'll probably find him sleeping around his apartment before he finds you sleeping

and he openly encourages you to slip in beside him if you find him (he's a little stinky though /affectionate)

If he finds you sleeping first, though, he'll probably just slip in next to you (if you've given him the okay ahead of time)

or he'll sit beside you and read a magazine if he isn't sleepy

(he loves and appreciates nap dates and I will die on this hill)

Pannacotta Fugo

he probably wouldn't have much of an opinion or reaction, so sorry if you were looking for one from him

it's just something that you do, it's none of his business what your sleep schedule is like

the only thing you'd probably get out of him is worry

"why are you sleeping out here? This sofa is awful for your back. Sleep in your room."

Aggressive worrier, definitely

Trish Una

she probably thinks it's cute

naps are fun, she loves naps, but she won't indulge in them too often

she definitely worries that sleeping too often could ruin her skin (I don't know how it would, but it probably would) so she won't indulge you in a besties nap too often

she will offer to sit with you though, as you nap

she'd probably take it as an excuse to do skin care with you, or a chance to touch up her nails, or even just relax alongside you

IM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG!! I GOT DISTRACTED WITH OTHER THINGS IN MY PERSONAL LIFE 😭

I HOPE YOU LIKE WHAT I GOT!! can u tell I didn't know what to write

[birchbow]

the motherfucking big leagues

The empress’s blocks are always full up to the gills, and this time’s about the same like it ever motherfucking has been.  Only this time it’s not just full of glittery gold and pink bullshit, it’s got a whole crowd of trolls in fancy soft pile clothes with rolled-up sleeves and shiny pro smiles on. 

“Your Condescension!” says the one who looks the most in charge, and the whole squad pulls up behind him to bow.  “What a pleasure.  We hoped we would see you tonight.”

“Yeah, had some business come up,” Meenah says, and waves grand around at all of you, like it’s clear why you oughta be around and there’s no way a motherfucker could question or guess twice.  “Got some additions to the spa day.  My head clownfish needs to glubbing relax for the first time in his life, and I atoll’d him he could invite a couple of quadrant-corners along.”

Comes to mind you’re going purple, under your fresh new paint.  Comes to mind, when she made mention of a spa day you didn’t put your pan to think what that would mean, or that if anybody’s got the dough to hire up a team of body-easers in soft block-wear and put them to work all up in your business, it’s the motherfucking empress.  And Karkat’s right there.

Might just as well go to one of those sex parties you saw getting rowdy on the Sinner, sit across from your matesprit and watch him fuck someone and let somebody touch you about it.  Fuck.

“Uh,” says Karkat, and glances up at you, and then back down at the motherfuckers in the next room, red all up to the eartips and down to the neck.  Licks his lips, nervous little flash of dark tongue over white fangs.

“What?” says Meenah.

“What the fuck do you mean, what,” Karkat says, all motherfucking types and ways of incredulous, and waves a frond around at the rubbing oils and the soft sweet air and the motherfucking horn-polishing kit, fuck you twice up to the carnival and back.  Holy shit.  “Did I walk into some kind of highblood decadence-play porn set?!  Is this real?!  You actually do this?”

“Shore?” says the empress, like Karkat’s the crazy one.  

“You have a moirail,” says Karkat, all motherfucking scandal.

“Uh-huh,” says Meenah, impatient with him, flicking the pink off her fins about it.  “He can come too, nubsy, c’mon.  He’s school.  Don’t be a glubbin’ square.”

You look to Kurloz; Karkat does too.  He does look like he’s motherfucking cool, and not like he’s having to try hard to be, so that’s…good, you guess.  Only like.  What the fuck.

“Perks,” Kurloz says, like it’s all a motherfucker’s gotta say, and shrugs.  “That’s the motherfucking big leagues, wrigglers.  You get all the feel-good you can swallow, if you wanna send out for it.”

“Except His Hilarity’s no glubbin’ fun,” Meenah says, and throws a frond out ‘round his waist to pull him over.  The motherfuckers in their soft dress-ups can’t see her play grab-ass at him, but you sure the fuck can, and it’s just how you’d draw their eyes that keeps you from making a face about it.  “Never saw a motherglubber so funny be so coddamn boring.”

“Watch it,” Kurloz says, half-growling, and bumps her off his hip—and it’d look like she just kept her grip on him to spite him if you didn’t see how his feet stumbled a second.  “You know how hard I got it to get any kind of motherfucking hires up onto the Dark Carnival without getting a couple picked off for paint on the way up?”

“Charming,” Karkat says, snippy.  “Your Imperious Condescension, how well-vetted are these people?  Gamzee’s got—I mean, I don’t know if they can handle him.  And I’m not going to have all four of us hazed at the same time—”

“Of course, Threshecutioner Vantas,” says the head guy, real sweet and soothing.  “I can assure you, our sylladexes are checked and emptied before we’re admitted, and we all value our positions and our lives enough to be extremely discreet—but we would be honored to have you guard your moirail, while we work on him.” 

You swallow hard enough if you had real seadweller gills you’d be glubbing at him, and he smiles just as nice at you.