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roturo · 3 months

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⋆⭒˚｡⋆ SHE'S BACK! PT2

GUESS HE COULDN'T KEEP IT IN, SO HE HAD TO KEEP IT INSIDE! (again)₊˚⊹♡ dilf!gojo satoru x teacher!reader

tags: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, size kink, jealous!reader, jealous!gojo, fluff, creampie, squirting, matingpress, age-gap, reader is described as way smaller than gojo, tummy buldge, teasing, use of nickanmes, overstimulation, dumbfication, fluff, gojo has an ex-wife, yuuji is gojo's son...

PART 1

Life is fun.

To say you’ve been having the best months of your life would be an understatement. Starting to know Go- Satoru Gojo has been a rollercoaster of emotions. Mostly the age difference. It wasn’t that big, but 7 years was enough for people to talk. And now that he’s turning 32 people have been checking on him for no stop. You guess he was pretty famous when he was younger, at least more than now.

Even though he is older than you, he’s a ray of sunshine full of brightness for this sad gray world. He finds fun in the sadness, and that’s why every time you see him, not only his eyes shine because of his beautiful blue orbs, but he makes your life shine with how good he makes you feel.

Another day being a teacher wasn’t like any other- But now you have this pink haired kid running across the classroom, and even though you don’t let your personal ‘persona’ interrupt in your job life, you couldn’t stop from falling into your lover son’s cuteness. But you don’t have favorites! At least you don’t say it out loud…

Satoru always trusted you to keep Yuji Itadori with you whenever he had some extra work to do– and he would spend time with you, sometimes at the classroom while you finish some work, or on special days both of you go out for some ice-cream.

But now Satoru hasn’t called or sent a message.

You were kinda nervous- Your turn was over and you were waiting for everyone to go home, but you were still wondering what was going on with Yuji.

“Hey cotton-candy, is your daddy coming for you?” You asked the little boy, leaning down to have his attention. Not that you needed it much, you know this kid was about to be as tall as his dad.

“Uh, well…” the kid looked up, shifting your gaze too, looking towards a beautiful woman with pink-ish hair and hazel eyes. holy shit- she really looked like Yuji- maybe she was his-

Mom. Standing next to fucking Yuji’s daddy.

Gojo Satoru.

“Yeah?” He called out your name, you were too lost staring at the couple that you never realized you said his name out loud. Shit. Giving the fakest smile to ever exist in this universe you bowed to both of them, while saying your greetings towards Yuji’s mom.

The little kid called your name, losing the soft grip from your hand and while he ran towards his parents. Real. Real parents.

“Look! Mom and daddy are together! They’re taking me to an amusement park because of my birth-day!” His birthday is next week. You know- you have it in your calendar. But you suppose he wanted to spend a day with both of his parents at the same time.

Does she know you’ve been fucking her hus- ex-husband? And you guess she knows about you by the way she looks at you with a sour face, masked with the hypocrisy of a ‘capitalism smile’

“Oh! You must be Yuji’s favorite teacher- Him and Gojo love talking about you.” The sound of her voice almost made you puke, but the moment she places her hands on Gojo, you swear something inside you exploded. You couldn’t tell how he was feeling- your mind full of how you’re getting yourself out of this situation, and maybe out of the city too.

Are they getting back together? Does he still love her? Is he playing with you?

Does he also have that ‘capitalism smile’? Do you have to be at their economic level? The fuck.. why you’re feeling like this! You and Gojo haven’t even officialized any titles for your…. relationship?

Gojo sensed the change of atmosphere once he saw you staring at them with a lost face. He didn’t intend to come here with her. But he didn’t trust her with you. Your shoulders were tense, that fake broken smile you give to people that have hurt you but way too afraid to speak up towards his way. That kinda broke his heart.

And what angered him the most, was when the witch laid hands on him. He also felt like he was about to puke, way too disgusted with this encounter that it was almost an instinct when he rapidly moved his body- But at the time he did that, a voice called out your name, making you shift your gaze to the sudden voice.

A tall blonde (not as tall as him), buff, (not as buff as him), with formal clothes he could easily identify that were old but classic- nothing like his style. He was not boring. Came walking towards you, waving at you and later placing his hand in your fucking lower back before both of you paid attention to the family infront of you again.

“Oh- I’m sorry. This is the school principal, Mr. Kento.” He might be overreacting, because a principal shouldn’t be this close towards a teacher, his blue eyed-gaze piercing holes into his face, clearly criticizing any aspect that came from him and fit his mind.

Everything after that was like a bullet piercing his head. Getting in automatic mode to survive this awkward encounter and finish the day as soon as possible. Obviously missing the fact Mr. Kento was married and you were his bridesmaid.

Gratefully the next was saturday- not losing the chance to get drunk and convince yourself that yesterday didn’t happen. You kinda have problems.

Gojo was worried you didn’t answer any of his calls in the morning. Instead, he went looking for you at your house- using the extra pair of keys you gave him. He was practically married to you. At least what he thinks.

But he couldn’t understand you. Not once he entered the room and found you staring at the TV, your phone long forgotten somewhere. He called out your name, obviously worried about you. Thank god you showered and cleaned yesterday’s mess. “Baby- Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Are you getting back together?”

“With who? What are you talk-”

“With her.”

Gojo gave you a breathless laugh after the last words came out of you before embracing you with his arms. Feeling the heat radiating from his body, the sun to your moon. “With that witch?-- Ppft” His chest pressed against yours while he chuckled at your assumption. “Why would I ever go back to her, or even meet other women when I have you?”

He felt the tears coming out of your pure eyes wetting his shirt, before his hand traveled and caressed your cheek– kissing away those awful tears that he hated. If he ever has to see you cry it should be– one, because he fucked you so good, or two because he gave you a ring to be by his side for eternity.

“Are you with him?” It’s now his time to ask questions.

“With who?”

“Blonde old guy from yesterday…”

“Oh, Mr. Kento? He’s my best-friend's husband and he's younger than you Satoru” You said while a giggle came out of your mouth and hit his chest with your hand in a light way.

“Ouh- You tiny thing- How can you hit so hard?” His movements were fast, caging you as fast as possible in his body while he laid you again on your back into your mattress, filling your face with kisses. Seeing you like this was something different to Gojo, it was… more intimate. Your beautiful smile is all for him to adore. Seeing your small body compared to his affected his brain chemistry, leading his blood all down into his cock.

“I can’t stop wanting to kiss you when you smile, because I want to steal it from you.” His words went straight to your heart, making you blush and avert his gaze from you. “Don’t hide my love, please- let me show you how much I need you.”

His kisses were tender, starting as pure pecks until those pecks turned into trying to claim you as him all over your neck– making you whimper only by his touch. “Maybe we should fullfish Yuji’s wish of giving him a small sister- what do you think?”

“Satoru…”

“What? He keeps rambling about you even when his biological mother is around. Kids his age don’t know how babies are made- but I would gladly show you how and keep you full of my cum everyday just to make sure, y’know?... fucking you here, at mis house… ffuck- at your desk… whenever I have the chance baby.”

Whimpers became moans once his hand reached your trembling core searching for release. Moving your panties to the side– “Sshit baby- You’re so.. wet.” A moan came out of you when his fingers went back to his mouth and he thrusted his covered hips into yours– also searching for friction.While he undressed you and himself too. “Wanna keep you full and nice f’me. So everytime you sit down you think of me. I would love to see your body once I get you pregnant– Ffuck- Scratch that. I would love to wake up every morning by your side. Wake up because of the cries or sounds of our kids. So be a good girl f’me and get pregnant and wifey just f’me, yeah?... fucking yyeah…”

His voice echoes inside your brain, being a trembling mess once he ponders inside of you. Keeping it there just for a moment and feeling him twitch because of how good you make him feel. His thrusts went feral once he truly realized the size difference and the bump forming in your tummy every time he thrusted inside you. Leading one of your hands to rest on your tummy. “Ya feel that? Yeah baby honey… I’m gonna fill this up with my cum- and you’re just gonna take it.” You were a rambling mess once he pressed hard in that spot- Trying to move his hand away from there because the abuse your g-spot was receiving.

The only coherent thing coming out of you,’ah, ah~, ah’ while he dumped his cum inside of you. Still rock hard and full to do it again. His arms engaged with your legs to have better accesses to your pussy, feeling his cock way goo deeper than the first time– taking you in a masting press.

“Fill me up again ´toru…” And oh shit. That made him go feral. His thrusts were erratic and unsynchronized, but each time you swear you could feel him inside your throat. He knew how to use his thing. Your orgasms were not like the other ones you had before. Coating your sheets and Gojo’s pelvis with your liquids– heavy breathes trying to accompany you while Gojo reached his high while you received him like a good girl even when he could barely fit it in again because of your intense orgasm.

He would always whisper cute things in your ears after sex. Making the both of you laugh with adventure you were slowly creating with him. The family you were creating. And now? His talk while cleaning you up was about baby names

A/N: this was an experience... the sex was A LOT for me, i never want to hear the word cock again.

taglist: @sirachano0dles @4imhry @chimmysoftpaws @philiatothephobia @xthatpottahfanx @chaotic-tnt

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deirdreskye · 2 years

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Another commercial I would produce as an advertising executive:

A husband and wife eat a bland dinner together in a dimly-lit kitchen. They don't speak or look at each other. The meal: a pathetic Salisbury steak.

Cut to their bedroom at night. The wife lays sleeping in the bed while in the background the husband is putting on her dress, pantyhose, pearl necklace, heels, makeup, and a wig. When he's done he quietly leaves the room. The wife opens her eyes as soon as she's sure he's gone.

Now we're in a seedy dive bar. A small crowd of mustachioed men wearing leather jackets, black boots, and sunglasses sip beers and puff cigarettes while the "show" unfolds. Camera pans down, then pans to the side. Between the black boots we see the husband on his hands and knees, greedily eating a Chipotle Chorizo Burrito Bowl with Cilantro Lime Rice from a plastic dog bowl on the floor. His makeup is ruined, face smeared with sour cream and hot sauce.

A man steps forward. The husband looks up, and his expression changes to that of a deer in the headlights. Cut to reveal that the "man" standing before the husband is none other than his wife, in elaborate drag as a Tom of Finland biker, false mustache and officer cap and all. She smiles warmly, and nods. The husband smiles too, and resumes his meal.

Chipotle: Own Your Fantasy

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ddejavvu · 6 months

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eddie brock is the og loser boyfriend and i can’t stop thinking about venom just like completely bullying him when he’s in a relationship like his partner is like this drop dead gorgeous person and eddie wears the same sweaty jacket all the time and eats frozen tater tots haha

"There are crumbs on your shirt." Venom observes, and when Eddie nods with a noncommittal grunt, he continues, "And it is not a shirt. It is a sweatshirt. A sweaty sweatshirt, Eddie. And you wore it yesterday."

"That I did," Eddie crams another handful of chips into his mouth, salted and straight from the bag. His attention remains solely on the television in front of him, and Venom's goopy form shakes its head.

"Y/N is coming over later." He reminds the human, watching with disdain as Eddie chokes slightly on his mouthful because of the way he's slouched in his seat. He swallows regardless, and when he speaks, his voice is gruff from the irritation in his throat.

"Yeah, she'll be here in a few minutes," Eddie nods, "Hey, do you think they fake this show? The drama, and all."

Venom has no interest in whether the trashy reality show that Eddie is so enraptured by is fake or not. He cares that you'll be here any minute now, and Eddie looks like a corpse that's been rotting for a few days.

When the doorbell rings, Eddie moves to get up. Crumbs begin raining onto the carpet and he groans as his lazy joints ache, so Venom shoves him back into place with a strong tentacle and uses another to stretch and open the door for you.

You're clearly expecting a person on the other side, but you're quick to recognize the tentacle you're met with instead. It wraps greedily around your waist and you place your hand over its sticky form, grinning as you're barely able to shut the door behind you before Venom yanks you over to the couch.

"Hi, baby," Eddie greets, tipping his head onto the back of the sofa to grin upside-down at you, "How are you?"

"Good," You lean down to kiss him upside down, and Venom is appalled that you're willing to put your lips on Eddie's crumb-coated ones.

"Sour cream and onion?" You guess, and you're rewarded with the near-empty bag of them that Eddie had been demolishing.

You settle happily onto the couch by Eddie's side with the chips in your hand, and when Venom begins to let go of you you hold his tentacle in place. The symbiote watches you silently for a moment, observing your behavior and thinking a whole host of unsavory thoughts about humans and their disgusting tendencies.

"I do not understand," Venom interrupts your gushy sentiments with Eddie about how terrible the acting is on so-called 'reality' shows, "Eddie is disgusting."

The man's nose wrinkles and you let out a scoff of a laugh.

"Thank you, Venom. That's very kind of you. Did you forget you're made of slime?"

"Slime does not sweat. And I do not have crumbs stuck all over me."

"Venom, being in a relationship with someone means that you need to be comfortable with them. We don't have to dress up all the time, Y/N knows what I look like in pajamas and I've seen her hair unbrushed in the morning."

Venom, too, recalls the rather impressive tangled mess of hair that you sport after a night of deep sleep.

"You do not mind that he smells?" Venom turns to you, his milky-white eyes blinking with a squelch.

"He's smelled worse," You give a half-shrug, only one of your shoulders moving as you squirm closer to Eddie beneath the blanket he's draped over you.

"You're both too good to me," Eddie grins, batting his lashes sarcastically, "Careful not to flatter me too much, don't want my head to get too big to fit in my helmet."

Venom regards Eddie for a moment, then thinks of the motorcycle helmet the man breathes into every day. It's repulsive.

"Your head is already abnormally large," Venom observes, settling into Eddie's shoulder opposite from you, "I will keep insulting you so that it does not get bigger. You are repulsive."

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gamermattsgf · 2 months

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Sour diesel p.2 // dealer Chris

Warnings: shower sex / clitoral stimulation / praise kink / drug dealer Chris x reader / size kink / unprotected sex / vertical prone position (I literally have no idea what else to call this lol) / piercing kink / thoughts of exhibitionism / slight hair pulling

Summary: still feeling the strong effects of the diesel you had just previously smoked, chris now wants a taste, and doesn’t mind pulling you into the shower with him to do so...

Author’s notes: ew why did it take me so long to write this and decide what I actually wanted to do with it lmao. Just a quick disclaimer, if you can’t really remember what happened in the first one I recommend going back to re-read it because this is a continuation of what happens straight after the first one ends. Also lowkey- why does this one get so sappy and soft at the end lol? I should really start writing tooth rots soon too. So anyways… get out ya sour diesel playlists and enjoy ;).

“If you overthinkin’, I get high with you, if you ever sinkin’, I go down with you, all I need, my baby and a cigarette” - CIGARETTES, Amir Obe

. ݁𖦹₊ ⊹

‘shit that is strong stuff…’

You laugh at Chris’ throwaway comment, hyperaware of the way your whole entire body tingles itself into a horny hot-sweat. The thick smell of weed on both of your clothes and the redness of your eyes certainly don’t help in cementing the fact that you are both high out of your fucking minds right now.

Chris feeds his bottom lip into his mouth and tugs on the central silver lip ring he has hooked into his plump flesh.

The sight alone makes your toes curl. It’s as if every single move he makes drags you deeper into a violet haze of ecstasy until you’re so far away from clarity that you can barely see it anymore.

Chris’ soft chest rises and falls as his cock lies there in front of you two, bare, and needing a lot more attention.

Releasing his moist lip from his teeth, it recoils backwards slightly and you watch his lip ring glint hypnotically in the light of the ceiling fan above him.

They look dewy, a peachy pink cream colour… perfect for sucking on.

Your drug dealer’s frosty irises surround themselves with the bloodshot white of his eyes, and the redness almost exemplifies the popping blue colour of them.

His pupils dilate, and he seems to be deep in thought.

You shift uncomfortably on your knees, trying to press your aching heat down onto one of the balls of your feet to suppress its unbearable throb.

Suddenly Chris sighs.

His voice is deep and raspy, almost as if he’s just woken up from a deep slumber. You love it when you two link up to smoke weed together because his voice always drops down to this gorgeous register and it makes your folds slick beneath your underwear every single time.

Unbeknownst to Chris of course.

He’ll just sit there, knowing exactly what he’s doing, yet not knowing anything at all as he balances the blunt in his mouth, blowing out leisurely smoke rings and pumping his system full of relaxant narcotics. Perhaps sprawled out on his back across your bed if at your place or out on his deck in one of his chairs at his…

His voice always ends up the same though, gritty and an octave lower than usual.

‘Wanna take a shower with me, ma?’ He questions casually, as if saying something like this to you is rather a normal occurrence. It elicits a tight tension within your muscles, and you struggle to not grind yourself down onto the ball of your foot.

You swallow thickly at his request, and Chris’ lips twitch up into a little lop-sided smirk. He wants to see you naked. So fucking bad. And he’s not ashamed to admit it. He thinks about it a lot. More than he probably should.

He also just likes to think about you a lot.

Usually when he does his deals with other clients. He’ll always hand over his weed, or his bag of pills and then he’ll think about how much he misses your face.

Then when he’s stretching out his hand and expectantly raising his eyebrows for his money he’ll think about how much he hates letting you pay for your drugs.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he fucking loves spoiling you by giving you free rein of his most expensive strains.

Just a moment of your time is money enough for him.

And then whenever he slinks away from his deals with his black hood up, he leafes through his money and counts it… thinking about how much he can’t wait to see a text from you again.

Sometimes he purposely gives you smaller volumes of weed just so that you run out faster and have to come guiltily crawling back to see him again for more.

With that being said, he takes advantage of this moment, flicking his eyes down to the subtle rock of your hips that rut forward once and then retreat back to their original resting position.

You squirm about at the thought of his shower.

‘Um… yes please’ you clear your throat and mumble politely, your cheeks turning pink in embarrassment. And it’s almost unbelievable to think that you had the thickness of his cock stuffed all the way down your throat moments ago because of how you were looking at him now.

Chris snorts at this nervous reaction, a gruff and teasing giggle slipping past his lips whilst he tilts his head patronisingly. ‘What? You all shy now or somethin’?’.

You avert your eyes as he pokes fun at you, a hint of his Boston accent catching in the back of his throat as he smiles at your endearing behaviour.

You shake your head and muscle up the nerves to look up at him through your eyelashes. You sigh. ‘Sorry it’s just uhh… well- I’m just a little shocked at myself that’s all’.

Commenting on your previously greedy actions, it’s as if you can still feel the soft throbbing of Chris’ thickness stroking against the walls of your mouth. The taste of his cum haunts the base of your throat, and the memory of saliva seeping from your mouth to dribble around his pink head permeates your vision.

The look of the strings of spit connecting his tip to your lips as soon as you had pulled away from him almost become too much for you to bear.

Suddenly, you crack a laugh, and Chris is so fucking high that he finds it within himself to join in, even though what you had said wasn’t really that funny.

After recovering, Chris quickly silences and retreats back to looking at you lustily, his eyes glistening with that primal need to have you for himself, but equally to have you wailing and crying out his name with his windows cracked wide open.

Because he wants passing people to know, to know what’s going on in the bathroom of his apartment. And he wants them to be jealous. Jealous of the way that it’s him who’s pounding into you, him whose skin is slapping against yours, and him whose back is getting clawed at by your nails until it’s red raw.

‘I kinda wanna kiss you…’ he randomly muses to you. And you too, fall silent, and find yourself gravitating towards him naturally. He does the same, his eyes once or twice obsessively looking down to your lips. They hold a begging kind of gaze that almost has you rolling about the floor for mercy.

‘Do it then’ you breathe daringly, both of you two then coming in to bridge the gap. Chris presses his lips into yours, and then immediately you feel the artificial metal ring of his piercing against your own bare skin.

He squeezes his lips closed and traps your bottom one in between his two.

In one solid motion he makes you shiver by smoothly sliding his tongue across the skin of your lip, before wetly detaching himself and doing the exact same thing to your top one. He utters a breathy moan, the cold air on his prick making it throb and harden once again whilst you let him kiss you.

It’s not long before it escalates, and the taste of your saliva has Chris hooked. So much so that he lurches forward a little more to grab both sides of your face aggressively with his hands.

He keeps you held there, the large expanse of them moist with sweating arousal as your mouths drop open even further into the now very messy kiss.

Now it’s just your tongues flattening against each other’s and licking from side to side, spit whipping about and coating the corners of your mouths when sometimes each of you miss your mark.

‘Shower? Please?’ Chris breathlessly pants, his desperate tone almost making him seem like he’s transitioned into heat as his hands slide down your neck, then your tits, only to land on the fabric of your shirt. He boyishly twists it into his knuckles, and impatiently tugs you towards him.

‘O-okay… shower’ you acknowledge him, and then pull away.

Your wobbly feet rise to a stand from off of his scuffed green couch and only then do you realise just how wet you are after your thighs close and rub together.

Chris looks up at you with doe eyes, before grunting and standing up too, trying to pull his grey sweats and boxers up simultaneously.

He messily tries to tuck his weeping cock into his pants, but heaves an annoyed mumble when it takes longer than expected, before he is pushing himself back into you once he’s successful.

He leans in with his mouth already agape hungrily. The fever and determination he has only makes your horniness worse, still in an absolutely trance on your diesel high.

Your tongues sloppily lick each other’s, and Chris moans a quick ‘Mhh, so pretty baby’ into your lips with his eyes feathered closed in enjoyment.

He walks you backwards one or two steps, before humming again in thought and stopping. He then decides to not bother with trying to get you to walk to his bathroom, and so pulls away from your lips to kiss his teeth.

He shuffles back slightly and you eye him quizzically before he’s reaching his palms downwards and turning them up to his ceiling.

They twitch slightly when he purrs ‘up you come baby’, clearly wanting you to leap your thighs into the cups of them so that he can carry you.

You smile slightly at this, and smooth your hands over his shoulders for support before hopping into his hold. He groans a little at the force exerted upon his arms but then quickly flexes them and easily hitches your legs around his thick hips.

‘Atta girl’ he praises you softly before sponging a wet kiss onto the collarbone that sits right in front of the reach of his lips.

He then starts to walk you both through the corridor of his apartment to his bathroom.

On your way there he has to step over piles of his stuff that he’s lazily thrown onto his floor, like a heap of empty Pepsi cans and also his beloved pink North Face puffer jacket that he usually does his deals in.

It lays in a crumpled heap next to his mess of playing card. Presumably he must have had people round playing black jack earlier and just hasn’t cleaned them up yet.

After a bit of turning your head to the side and playfully biting the helix of his ear, he gets you to the door of his bathroom and victoriously kicks it open with his foot.

Twisting to the side, he squeezes both of you past the doorframe and looks up at you with lusting eyes before he is using his foot again to force the door shut behind him. It slams and traps you two into Chris damp-smelling bathroom, the scent of his cologne combatting the mould of the old walls and intoxicating your senses.

You forget how fucking good Chris smells underneath all of that weed.

He suddenly releases his grip on you, and you drop to the floor, your feet padding onto his white bathmat.

He pecks you on the lips once, before twisting around to turn his attention to the shower. He reaches into it and twists the dial which makes water come spurting out of the head. Whilst doing this you simultaneously take off your top and unbutton your jeans.

You slide them down your dewy legs as Chris reaches his palm in to test the temperature of the water before looking back at you, his stomach flipping in excitement at the sight of you standing there in your bra and underwear.

‘Is the shower ready?’ You speak up timidly, standing squished and self consciously with your arms folded over your stomach as you look at the man who has always been on your mind outside of deals, and not just because of the drugs.

He hums. ‘Hmm, not yet, wanna make it nice for you…’.

He turns back around and leans out of the shower.

Shaking his wet hand, a couple of droplets fall to the floor before he is taking off his zip up and letting it plonk to the bathmat. ‘Still feelin’ shy ma?’ He comments with a smirk on his face at the fact that you haven’t yet taken off your underwear.

You laugh and shake your head, his silly attitude managing to ease the tension. ‘Mhh, a little bit’.

Sometimes you get extra nervy when you’re high. It isn’t necessarily Chris’ fault that you feel this way, it’s just the kind of influence the drug has on you depending on what kind of strain you smoke.

His white shirt peels off next, before both of his sweats and his boxers come off.

‘That’s ok, I’d prefer to be the one taking off your underwear anyway…’ he rambles, the sentiment of his want travelling straight to your clothed core and making it burn with heat.

He stands there in his naked vulnerability and by now the shower has heated up enough to billow steam into the room and fog up the mirror in front of his sink.

‘Can I?’ He speaks gently and raises his eyebrows whilst gesturing to your white panties, decorated with a little brown teddy bear logo on the front of them. As if Chris couldn’t adore you more, your taste in panties makes him feel warm and fuzzy, the effects of the sour diesel only making his attraction to you worse.

You nod and Chris takes that as his chance to step forward and feed his thumbs into the soft cotton fabric bunched around your hips.

To distract you whilst he pulls them down, he starts to kiss you again, and you find yourself sucking on his lip ring whilst your panties drop to your ankles.

Chris’ arms then snake around your back, both pulling you towards him and enabling him to fumble around with the strap to your bra. After successfully unclipping it, he whimpers in victory before pulling away from you.

‘Ladies first’ he jokingly gestures and grasps onto one of your hands like a gentleman whilst he leads you into the shower.

He steps in after you and shuts the glass door, both of you getting soaked in the scalding water as it trickles from the shower head and onto your hair. Chris is quick to make sure that you’re directly under the stream of water so that you can absorb all of the warmth, and he looks at you through water droplet-stained eyelashes.

You smile and blush up at him whilst he gingerly trails his fingertip up the endless waterfalls of water slipping down your curves.

He then starts to draw aimless patterns on your skin, like an artist ravishing his muse.

He threads one of his hands through the thick sopping wet mop of your hair, strands clumping together as he drags his fingertips through it and looks at it in fascination.

Your lips crash against each others once more after a single look passed between you two.

Now it’s almost as if you literally can’t breathe without a constant taste of each other’s flesh.

A nicotine addiction, but for bodies.

After kissing slowly, for a while, Chris’ cock begins to ache.

He detaches himself, now the two of you fully soaking wet and the steam residing between your bodies making its way down your throats. The atmosphere is hot, choking, lustful.

Manoeuvring around you, your slickness throbs at the sight of his arm reaching up to unhook the shower head from its hold. Fat water droplet gather at the bottom of the strands of his long hair, and they drip down to the floor at every movement he makes.

‘Your turn baby…’ he lilts cheekily into your ear after using his other free arm to wrap around your front and pull you into his chest. Using the hand gripping the shower head, he teasingly turns the pressure up until the force of the water is hammering out.

He kisses your cheek, and you feel the grin on his face as you struggle not to crumple into his hold. Your knees feel like buckling, and the ache between your legs is almost strong enough to make you feel dizzy.

‘Chris I-’ you stutter quietly, but he doesn’t give you a chance to finish before he’s quickly moving the burst of water and concentrating it upon your clit.

Your throat echos a cry as you arch your back, your head falling into the crook of his shoulder as he licks his tongue over the tepid skin of your throat.

‘Yeah, you like that don’t you…’ he mumbles cockily against your flesh, the hold he has against the shower head unrelenting, even when trying to squirm away from it.

He keeps a firm lock over your body, and the waves of sensitivity it brings you almost makes you pass out. You whine and pant, slinging your arms behind your head and clawing at Chris’ neck.

You feed your shaking fingertips into his hair to yank on it, practically begging for mercy.

‘Feels so good’ you whimper, and Chris nudges your head to envelop your mouth into his once again. This way, he swallows your noises of extreme euphoria for himself.

Your wet bodies slide together, steaming rising from in between your legs as Chris starts to control the water’s flow against your core by moving the shower head in a circular motion.

‘Open up a bit wider for me baby’ he instructs you soothingly, and uses one of his kneecaps to knock into the back of yours, commanding you to spread your thighs a little farther.

You feverishly nod with an ‘o-ok’ before your wobbling legs are stepping further out and the vibrating pleasure is increasing the more Chris gains access to your clit.

You feel his hard cock brushing in between your ass, and it throbs wildly, Chris no doubt aching to bend you over… which he does, unexpectedly.

He presses your left cheek against the wall and your hands come flying up to slap against the cold tiles whilst he forces your back into an arch.

‘Fuck baby’ you mumble, drunk off of the feeling of Chris touching you in the best possible way.

‘Give it to me momma… wanna hear how good I fuck you… make it loud’.

Chris is smug when he presses his tip into your weepy hole, one of his hands coming up to also lean against the tiles above your head, which gives him the right kind of support. His other hand still works the shower head down at your core, and you let out a strangled moan after he fits himself inside of you.

He stretches you out from behind, and you whine a little in pain at his thickness. ‘Ahh Chris… l-little slower please’ you hiss as you suck your teeth, the rough skin of his cock throbbing inside of you and spreading your walls apart. Your mouth is dropped open and your focus is on breathing as soon as you say this, a line of drool accidentally falling from out of one side of your mouth.

It splatters heavily to the floor next to your foot.

Chris sees this slimy mess, and smirks at how much he’s fucking you up, his ego stroking itself as he slowly pushes his hips forward as per your request.

‘Fuck, look at you getting all hot and bothered… my cock really that big huh?’ He patronises you whilst watching your back rise and fall laboriously at having to take in deep stuttering breaths.

You moan a ‘yes’, feathering your eyes shut just for a second to regain your composure.

Chris grins devilishly, mumbling back a stern but simple ‘take it.’ In response.

So you do, and wait until he fully bottoms out to whine for him to move again.

Chris obeys, and his wet hips snap against your ass, causing a resounding clap sound to cacophony across the expanse of his bathroom with the water in his shower still running and its stream battering quickly against your heat.

Tears almost draw within your eyes as you fully soak in how well he’s treating you, fucking you up from both the front and behind.

He groans lowly in a humongous effort to try and hold off his orgasm, just so that you can have yours first, because he realises that you deserve it a lot more than he does after letting him thrust his cock up into your mouth.

‘That good baby? I feel nice?’ He questions, but of course he already knows you love it because of the way you’re almost pathetically crying for him to go faster.

‘Make me cum please- please make me cum’ your fucked-out voice drawls, your fingernails clawing at the tiles of his shower for traction as his fat tip nudges against the most sensitive part of your core with every thrust he makes.

With the shower head still firmly held against your clit, he helps you build up your organs and after a couple more thrusts, he finally finishes you off.

He drops the still running hose to the floor in favour of gripping onto you and making sure that you don’t fall, his hips continuously going but slowing their roll as he helps you calm down from your high.

After your cunt gets too sensitive to withstand anymore of his hard prick, you tap out, and Chris pulls out, panting in tiredness and stickily jerking himself the rest of the way to his own eventual orgasm.

He squirts his cum rapidly onto your back, and you shiver at the feeling of its warm consistency, twisting your body to try and get a look at it erotically dripping down your ass cheeks.

Both of you heave, trying to catch your breaths in the heat of the shower, which proves to be an even more difficult task as soon as Chris turns you back around to face him.

‘C’mere… want more kisses’ he babyishly mumbles, requesting for your lips softly on his once again with a pretty pout on his moony face.

He whimpers happily after you give in, laughing a little at his afterglow submissiveness before pressing small peppering kisses around the corners of his mouth.

You kiss each other once more, and this time instead of you biting against his piercing, he bites against your bottom lip, your tongues lazily twisting in the swelter of the shower.

You guess that the hot water probably washed away a good half of the drug, because you didn’t feel as high anymore.

You stay there, kissing for a while until Chris decides that he wants to rinse you off.

He passes the shower head that had once been firmly focused on stimulating your clit around your body to wash any cum and sweat away, before announcing that he also wanted to wash your hair for you.

You almost melt at the sentiment and patiently stand there whilst he massages a dollop of shampoo into the roots of your hair, sudsing it up and smiling whilst he combs his long fingers through your strands.

After gently whispering ‘okay, now lean back for me…’, he passes the stream of water over your hair and bites his lip in concentration, wanting to make sure that the experience is just as soothing for you as it is for him.

You almost forget that Chris is just your drug dealer as he helps you out of the shower and grabs one of his white towels from his radiated hand rail.

Wrapping you up in one, he makes sure that you’re warm and snuggly before tying a spare one around his own waist.

Water droplets still drip from his chest as he grabs a small hand towel to place on top of your head. He then gently rubs your hair and tries to dry it as much as he can.

You both giggle at how silly you look in the mirror with the towel messily strewn across your head, which is exemplified by Chris deciding to make you laugh even further by vigorously shaking his wet hair out like a dog.

After you’re dry, he helps you back into your clothes, before playfully patting your ass as you both exit his bathroom, Chris shutting the door behind you two.

You suddenly swallow nervously and get anxious once again.

You just had sex with your dealer… twice.

What the fuck does that mean for your relationship? Are you going to have to block him and never speak to him again? Are you going to have to pretend like none of this ever happened?

You sure hope not.

As all of these worrying thoughts swirl about your mind like a raging storm, Chris suddenly comes in like a ray of sunshine and scares the clouds away with a silly sounding ‘hey, wanna play video games with me? I got a really cool new one over the weekend’.

As if he hadn’t just railed the shit out of you moments earlier.

You feel like this is Chris’ own special way of telling you not to worry about it, you can both think about the consequences later… so you smile back at him, returning to the living room where his old green couch lies before plopping down onto it.

‘Turning down a chance to beat you in Mario Kart like I always do? Never… gimme a remote and you’re on!’

. ݁𖦹₊ ⊹

Author’s notes p.2: I want to make out with drug dealer!Chris to the song Percolator by SZA so bad. Bye- this is so specific but MUCH needed. Thank you all for waiting on the much anticipated arrival of Sour diesel part 2, I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did and likewise, I should be getting to work on cherry popper real soon! Ask, and request anything as always… until next time babies :)

Taglist: @luverboychris @lovingmattysposts @luvmila444 @luv4kozume @stursweet @strniohoeee @strawberrysturniolo @thesturniolos @sturniolosreads @vecnasnose0 @meanttomeet @ellie-luvsfics @matthemunch @mattsleftnipple03 @robins-scoop @asturniolos @imwetforyourmom @nicksmainbitch @sturnioloenthusiast @breeloveschris @kvtie444 @rootbeerworshiper @chr1sgirl4life @hrt-attack @gigisworldsstuff @stargirlsturniololover @imlidewwallyhittingdagwiddy @sturniololoverr @jahlisa22 @bernardsgf @luvasr @meg-sturniolo @blahbel668 @liz-stxrn @sturnreblog @ratatioulle @isabellehoran @1800chokedathoe @sturnsmadl @sturniolossmut @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattslolita @sturniolowhore @skadltmf @sturniolosstar @luvsturns @mattestrella @hearts4chriss @orangeypepsi

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x reader

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headspace-hotel · 1 year

Text

some times i see people talking about the Earth and climate change saying things like "now i know it is difficult to deal with utter hopelessness, terror, and visiting the thoughts of death"

and it's like wow I am so deeply sorry about the suffering. but...concern. Concern. Tell me, am I missing something important? Why do I feel a sense of hope for our planet? Am I a lonely fool? Have I been consumed by naïveté and misguided optimism?

That would be weird. It feels weird. It feels like I would be well suited to despair. My natural temperament is Mortal Terror making my body crushed for a thousand years at the bottom of the deepest trenches of the ocean. I've thought before "I can't live any more. This exceeds the tensile strength of the human spirit."

And then? After irreversible catastrophic failure of the soul, there is...what?

We try to imagine the future where we fight to save our home and it is very painful. The resistance feels so small and the machine of death feels so vast. But something's missing.

Everyone else is missing—the plants, trees, bugs, beasts, and creatures. Hello? Are the other humans seeing this? Nature wants you to know that she is not a princess in a tower. Look! Look at the chaos moving through every cell! Iterating! Adapting! Becoming! Thriving! Watch the pollinators tirelessly at work, observe the mycorrhizal network in the forest floor distributing the rich fruits of decay and photosynthesis for every inhabitant! Pay attention! We belong here too. They feed and shelter us, give us the very air we breathe, and in return we plant and propagate, cull, thin, and burn, shape, trample, till, shepherd and sprout seeds. Our species can look toward the future, to the world of our descendants. We can call every plant and animal by name and teach our children to use and care for them responsibly. We can feel this anger, pain, and grief on behalf of the family of Life, OUR family, and we can love the smallest beetle and the humblest moss.

Look at it! This thing is nothing like me, it does not benefit me, it has no use or purpose for me, but LOOK at it! Look at its intricate structure! Look at the marvelousness of its behaviors and biological functions! Look at its uniqueness throughout the whole universe! Look at it, and see its infinite value!

I saved a baby tree from the scorching hot gravel of a parking lot. I watched it grow and thrive in the hands of its caretaker. Many more followed, trees and herbs and flowers, rescued and carefully placed in cups and old tubs that once held yogurt and sour cream. This is so strange, I thought. They're everywhere, offering themselves for free, and no one thinks to take them. Everyone thinks transplanting a tree is hard and that nothing grows on the edge of the pavement but weeds. But it's so easy??? This is weird. Plant Nurseries Hate Her: Get Free Plants With This One Weird Trick.

I protected an old barren garden patch where nothing had thrived from being mowed and weed-whacked, and transplanted little plants that I found. I marveled at the bees that came. Chicory bloomed, then asters and goldenrod. I shed actual tears over a spicebush swallowtail. I ordered some milkweed from the internet, and the monarchs came for them. Less then twenty-five bucks for a divine experience like this. Wow, everyone else really needs to know!

I started volunteering at a nature center, and was allowed to transplant flowers where they sprouted in inopportune locations. I collected tons of seeds all fall and winter long.

There is much, much more, all of it bigger than I ever would have imagined. But this spring there were more birds, in number and in species, than I'd ever seen in my back yard before. Chickadees, swallows, finches, nuthatches, jays, cardinals, warblers, sparrows, woodpeckers of every kind...I remembered just a couple years prior when all I ever saw out there was a couple grackles or starlings or robins, with the occasional sparrow. Those birds come in flocks rather than couples now. And then the bumblebee arrived. An American bumblebee, endangered now, a queen. For a few days she was always out there, would fly out and buzz around me when I came out to tend to my now-innumerable plants. It's nesting time for them. She chose this place I was creating. She saw that this place would take care of her.

A week ago, I discovered wild strawberries growing in my Mamaw's driveway. I found lyreleaf sage growing beside a gravel road. I've become a master of transplanting; I took several of each home. Yesterday, I saw a tiny, metallic blue bee, an Osmia mason bee. Today, I saw an oriole and a strange, very fancy fly. I see something new almost every day. Every day I am being irreversibly changed as a person. How did I ever fail to see how much this matters?

I said I feel hope...do I feel it? I don't think it's a feeling, I think it's a practice. It's being part of our communities and our ecosystems. Nature's interconnectedness is both reality and example: to survive, we take care of one another. And when one member of the community helps another thrive, it creates a cascade that increases the thriving of all. Just by existing, you help us all survive.

You can only take care of so many plants before you have to give some away. You can only hold so much knowledge before you have to give it away. I gave seeds to a dozen different flowers to my next-door neighbor and she invited me inside and wouldn't let me leave without food, and we talked about plants and trees. A family friend lets me have goats' milk and heirloom vegetables in exchange for help around the farm, and I listen to him talk about trees, bugs, and soil and learn so much I feel like I'm about to explode from knowledge.

Being a caretaker is unavoidably a community-oriented, community-forming thing. You can't grow plants all by yourself. Your garden will make too many tomatoes. Share them. Your milkweed will make hundreds and hundreds of seeds. Spread them. Wild blackberries invite you to take and eat. Your lonely retired neighbor invites you to talk and keep her company. Once you grow delicious fruits or little oak trees, you always have a reason to greet someone and say, "Look, it is a gift!"

We're not alone. We are not separate. We take care of each other. Every species, every individual. A single action of caretaking creates a cascade effect of thriving. A single unapologetic love for a creature creates a blossom of curiosity and fascination in everyone surrounding. It's so powerful.

As my chemical romance says "I am not afraid to keep on living"

#nature #community #plants #gardening #you are not separate from every other thing #the wonders #caretaking #plantarchy

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trulyhblue · 2 months

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please can we get a caitlin foord fic 🙏

Bug and Bingo

Caitlin Foord x Daughter! Child! Reader, Lauren Hemp x Child! Reader, AWFC + CITY x Child! Reader.

Warnings: pure fluff, coarse language, bit long for what I hoped.

A/N — was feeling cute. So sorry if you don't understand what Bluey is. Also, not really based on the most recent match as there are several changes.

__________________________

You were waiting for your mama to finish the bunny loops on her shoelaces, humming the Bluey theme song with your Bingo toy in one hand and Gunnersauris in the other.

You swung your legs from your mama’s cubby, where your coat was pooled around your waist. Auntie Stephy was talking to Beth, and Auntie Lani wasn't in the Changing Rooms, even though she was here, playing today.

Your mama told you that Auntie Lani was playing for the other team, and it wasn't the same as when you were back with all of your other Aunties. It was the same as when mama versed Macca and Mini, and Sammy — but Sammy was watching Macca and Mini’s game instead of playing, which you aren't quite sure you understand.

Sammy’s wife-but-not-girlfriend — you couldn't remember the name — Kristie also played for West Ham, but she only picks you up when you're running away from Sammy trying to tickle your tummy.

You also remember seeing Harper last week, showing her your Bingo toy, and playing hot potato with her in the stands. You love Harper, she is your only friend who knows about Bluey, and she's Australian like you. In Kindergarten, you and Harper are the only ones who speak the way you do. Your mama always asked you whether your classmates would tease you, but Harper would poke her tongue out at them, and you’d ignore them and play with Harper instead.

Your Gunnersauris was lying next to your coat, and your Bingo toy was snuggled under your arm. You were wearing your mama’s Tillie’s jersey because you liked it more than the one she was wearing now. Your Auntie Ky would call the other jersey the Cotton Candy Jersey, and you liked Cotton Candy, so you wore that Jersey when everyone else was. You liked wearing your mama’s jersey because it had your last name on the back too, and number nine was your favourite number so that made it the best. Mama said you were born on the ninth of September, which is the ninth month, so you are very special.

But the most special thing about today was that you were in charge of the Lolly Jar.

“Mama, when we going?” You asked, patting Bingo’s head, hoping she was comfortable where she was. You were slouching against the wall, watching Mama pull up her socks over her shin pads.

She looked up at you and smiled, using her thumb to graze your cheek. “Few minutes, Bug, you excited?”

You nodded your head. “Wanna see Auntie Lani and Mary. Will they sit with me with the Lolly Jar?”

“No, Bug, they sit with the other City girls.” Mama picked you up, propping you onto her hip, jutting you slightly. “But you're sitting with Stephy for the first half, then Vivid and Laura when Stephy comes on. But if I let you take care of the Lolly Jar, you've got to share, okay?”

You weren't too keen on sharing your lollies, especially your strawberry and cream ones, but Laura liked the Sour candy that was too hard for your teeth, and Vivi said that she thinks Snoep is bad for your teeth, so you think you’ll survive.

“Mama want a Lolly?” You asked, motioning towards the jar filled with lollies of all sorts.

“No, thank you, Bub.” Mama laughs, kissing your cheeks and tucking away your fly-away hairs.

“Can I have a lolly, Bug?” Your little body turned to face the voice.

Ky Ky was walking towards you with a warm grin, her hand coming up to fiddle with your collar. You giggled when her finger came in contact with your neck, sending giggles to echo through the room.

“Ky ky no manners.” You spoke, nuzzling your head further into Mama’s neck. Your mama laughed at Kyra’s dejected countenance.

“Yes, you're right,” The younger Aussie player admitted, shaking her head and pretending to act frustrated at herself for forgetting such a thing.

You, however, didn't catch onto her sarcasm, feeling a wave of empathy surging over you. You pulled your arms away from Mama, reaching out and whining for Ky Ky to hold you instead. Your mama handled her over, and you gripped the back of Kyra’s shirt as she danced with you in her arms.

“Ky Ky ‘gonna score today?” You asked, feeling the nip of the cool air shiver down your spine as the girls started exiting into the tunnel.

“I’ll try my best for you, Bub. You've just got to cheer extra loud for me, deal?” Ky held you impossibly close to her chest, her arm protecting you from feeling flimsy, and her body cradling the front half of your body from the cold.

“Will give you extra lollies and cuddles if you do.” You could see Leah at the front of the line with her big red ribbon around her arm, though Mama had told you it was an armband. You told your mama that they should do ribbons instead, hoping she could change it soon because ribbons were very pretty.

You had two yellow ribbons in each of your pigtails, which Lessi had done for you on the bus ride. Lessi was the best cuddle buddy, after Mama and Ky. She would rub and scratch your back with her nails gently, and let you trace her tattoos on her hands. Lessi was your favourite cuddle buddy, even if she wasn't the best. She was always the one you fell asleep on, and she’d always share her blanket with you when you sat next to her on the bench.

“If you don't score, I’ll just give you cuddles.” You muttered, readjusting your position in Kyra’s arms. She helped you by lifting you just above her hip, your legs locked around her waist. “Cuddles are never not allowed.”

“That's very sweet, Bub, thank you.”

“That's okay. Love you, Ky Ky.” You added, not noticing your Mama coming up behind you.

“Hey, Bub, time to put on your coat.” She said, slowly threading your small arms through the holes of the thick fabric. While your body moved without fuss, you made sure to whine a little loudly and huff to show how much you didn't like wearing your coat.

The people who loved your mama — not as much as you — and watched her play with her teammates weren't always allowed to see you. The people in the stands would inevitably catch sight of your chubby cheeks and small figure huddled in a mound of warm clothes and cuddles, whether that be during the lineup or when you were sitting on the bench.

Mama didn't like people seeing your face on their phones. She told you that cameras could cause you to feel big girl emotions, and while you were a big girl, Mama always tried her best to keep you discreet.

You didn't care all that much. Lessi would let you take funny videos with filters on your face when you talk with her on long bus rides. Stephy and Bethy would do dancing videos with you, which you love. So overall, you weren't too concerned with missing out on all that much.

But sometimes you felt like you wanted to be normal. You were cold, obviously, and the coat would warm you up, but you knew your mama wanted you to put it on for a different reason.

“Wanna stay with Ky for standing, Mama. Don't want the coat.”

Kyra acted like she had zoned out of the conversation, not sure how to manage a discussion that sounded so innocent, but had a deeper meaning behind it.

“As long as Kyra’s okay with it then you can.” Caitlin took your hand, squeezing it and zipping up your coat. “But you need to keep this on or else you’ll get a stuffy nose and a sore throat.”

“Still want my Lolly Jar.” You mumbled, not entirely content with the defeat in your situation.

Your Mama nodded, swiping your cheek. “Auntie Steph has got it in her lap for when you sit with her, alright?”

While you weren't awfully content with her decision, you sulked as you let the sleeves cover your body, hearing the zip dousing your body in a new-found warmth. You would never admit that the sensation was relieving, but you chose to snuggle back into Kyra’s chest when both teams started walking out into the crisp air.

There were a few smiles exchanged between the teams, but you understood that they both wanted to win and have the ball more than the other. Your yellow jersey stuck out under your coat, your pigtails and their bright yellow ribbons drawing more attention to yourself as usual. Your face was clasped into Ky’s neck, her body bobbing you up and down in swift motions. The crowd was beaming in excitement as everyone shook hands. You were too busy playing with the hem of Kyra’s jersey to notice the people rubbing your back and smiling.

“Cuddles now?” You asked your Ky Ky, prodding to the comfy chairs where Steph, and Kim were chatting in hushed whispers. Wally and Cloé were laughing with Stina and Laia, but you couldn't find your Auntie Vivi anywhere.

“I'm playing with your mama, Bug,” Ky spoke, rubbing your back as the two of you trudged over to the bench. “You're gonna show everyone your Lollies, aren't you? Mama said Stephy has the jar.”

You knew that Mama only gave you your lolly jar when you were feeling restless before a game. Sometimes, you just want to be attached to someone, whether that be Mama, Ky, or especially Vivi. You weren't used to not having your Auntie by your side during matches. When your Aunties had sore knees, you would sit with them in the crowd, showing them Bingo and bouncing ecstatically in your seat when they’d play games with you.

Bethy always let you swing your legs, and Lau would squish your cheeks and play Bingo games with you. Lau would make you giggle when Lee was talking about the game, and you’d clamour into the blonde’s lap and babble on about how she was a nervous Nelly, cause that's what your Mama calls you when you go to school sometimes.

Bethy wouldn't always let you have your Lolly jar, even though your Mama gave it to you. She said that it made you wiggle more and wiggles were hard to get rid of. But Vivi would always slip you some strawberry and cream lollies when Bethy wasn't looking. She’d make sure you always had a handful of your favourites when Beth was Roo immersed in the game.

You loved your Vivi.

It wasn't too bad when Bethy left, because you still had Vivi, Lee, and Lau, but then Vivi left, and now Lee, and so Lau sits in the stands with other people, and Mama doesn't want to leave Laura to take of you by herself, especially when her knee was only just mending fully.

But Vivi must've hurt her knee again because you saw her and Lau sitting in the stands without you.

It made you even more restless knowing that neither Ky nor Viv was there to play with you. You loved all of your Aunties, but some of them didn't have cuddles like Ky.

“Hello, Bug!” You heard your Auntie Stephy say. Kyra was careful in sparing the last of your affection, kneeling in front of Steph and peeling you off her slowly.

You didn't answer your Aunt, feeling what your mama called big girl feelings when Kyra kissed your forehead and ran towards the team. You latched onto Steph, who was going to put you down beside her before you curled into her lap. She wrapped her arms over your small body, pulling her blanket over the top of both of you so that you were in a cocoon of warmth.

You grabbed Steph’s pointer finger and squeezed. Bingo was facing the grassy field while you had your head towards Lia.

“Are you playing with Mama today?” You asked, settling one of your arms over Lia’s lap.

Lia and your Mama were in love like Vivi and Beth, but Mama says that their friends now. You don't remember a lot without Wally living with you, but Wally wasn't your Mama like Mama was your Mama. You were Mama’s more than anyone else. Auntie Lani always called you Cait, and Auntie Macca would say that you were your Mama’s twin.

Lia was a very nice cuddle buddy. She read bedtime stories to you and let you sleep in her and Mama’s bed if Mama was already asleep.

But now Wally didn't live with you anymore, and the bed was a lot bigger without two cuddle buddies.

“I might be after the second half, but right now I'm here with you,” Lia answered, squeezing your flushed cheeks before drawing patterns on your hand.

You looked up at Steph, reaching for her face, and settling your hand on her cheek. “Where’s Lani and Flower?”

Wally and Kim laughed from either side of you. Mary’s real name wasn't Flower, but she was pretty like a flower, and you thought that Mary smelt like a flower too, so that's what stuck. You made the mistake of looking at your Mama’s team, unable to spot your Australian friends amidst the team.

“They're both on the bench, Bug.”

You peered across the seats around you, only finding Arsenal girls.

“Not this bench, darling.” Stephy shook her head. “Different one.”

“Why not all together?” You asked, folding your arms across your chest. The ball went out of play, and you forgot your question when you saw Mama retrieving the ball.

You squealed when your Mama waved, putting your hands in your mouth and blushing when one of the Lani-Flower teammates gushed at you in adoration.

The Lani-Flower teammate was blonde, and wore a ponytail very high on her head. While she wasn't someone you were particularly familiar with, you made the effort to wave meekly at her, feeling a blush film across your face when the woman waved back.

“Classic Hempo.” You heard someone say, and you wondered whether Hempo was your friend or not. She wasn't an Australian like you, because you had never seen her back home. Maybe she was one of Bethy’s friends, because when she yelled, she sounded a lot like her friends.

“Wanna give her one of my Lollies.” You announced, looking down at the jar that Steph had put on the floor, reaching down and using all of your strength to get it on your lap.

“Maybe after the game, Bug,” Steph spoke, opening the jar, and letting you pop one of the sweets into your mouth. “Lauren is playing at the moment. If you want, you can give her one at the very end, okay?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Who’s Lauren?”

Steph sighed, shaking her head with a soft smile. “The girl that just waved at you.”

“Hempo?”

“Yes, darling, Hempo.”

The game continued on for what felt like forever. No one was scoring goals, not even your Mama. Most of the girls on the bench had grown anxious leading into halftime, and now it was Steph who was playing with your hands as you watched both teams tread towards the Changing Rooms.

Kim was very scary at times, even when her scariness was directed at you. She was very, very stern, and sometimes you had to cover Bingo’s ears because what she was saying was not always appropriate for younger ears.

Lee was also letting out her frustration. Leah was definitely opposed to the lack of goals since she was encouraging all of the girls to get back out there and try harder. You wondered why the Lani-Flower Team was so hard to beat when Mary and Lani weren't even playing. You’d understand if they were on the field, but they must've had superpowers that made the team really good because they were on the bench that you couldn't see.

Leah had the big band around her arm — the one you thought should be a ribbon but wasn't. You wore your ribbons all the time, at home, school, games, everywhere. Mama would send photos to your Auntie Hayley all the time, showing how her legacy was proven charismatic on her daughter.

Hayley was someone you missed a lot, especially when she and Mama never versed each other. When you were in Australia, Hayley would do your hair, and she’d use her own special ribbons. She would spend a lot of time with you. She and Ellie Belly would go out with you on what they called ‘Big Girl Days’, where you’d play at the park, get ice cream, and go to the movies, all in one day. You loved Ellie Belly, she was as silly as you. She loved blowing raspberries on your tummy. She was always throwing you up in the air, giving your Mama a surprised face.

You wanted a Big Girl Day now, you thought to yourself. The weather in London wasn't nice. You liked swimming with Harper and Harley. You liked spending time with your Australian Aunties in the sun.

You were sitting in Lessi’s lap, keeping yourself still as she redid her hair. Your coat was left on your seat on the bench, but the Changing Rooms were nice and cosy so no one paid much attention. Your Mama was fixing her hair as well, something everyone seemed to do, so you paddled over to her and tugged on her shorts.

“Hold on a second, Bug,” Mama spoke, smiling down at you, patting the wispy bits of your hair behind your ears.

You didn't want to wait, so you sighed and waddled to the next available person.

You tugged on Katie’s shorts, latching onto her leg and beaming at the woman’s immediate reaction.

“Well, hello, Miss Yellow!” She uttered, jostling your bright-coloured jersey and fixing your ribbons.

“I'm not Miss Yellow!” You laughed loudly, swatting away her hand. “I'm Bug!”

“You're a bug and yellow?!” Katie’s eyebrows raised as she pretended to be shocked. Everyone looked on in adoration, but to you her shock was real. Your laughter emulsified. “That means you're a Bee!”

“No, I'm not a BumbleBee!” You grinned, clasping your arms around her neck, soaking in the way she held you close. “I'm just Bug!”

“Oh, you're bug!” Katie huffed, shaking her head and sighing. “You scared me, Bug. I thought you were a Bee.”

“A Bumblebee, Katie.”

“That's right, a Bumblebee.”

You huffed, deciding that you were just smarter. “You're so silly, Katie.”

Katie let you run over to Mama, who swung you playfully all the way to the bench again.

Everyone was coming back onto the pitch, and the refs blew their loud whistles so that they could start kicking the ball. Both teams were a little bit more aggressive in everything they did. Katie was pushing and getting shoved, and Hempo was doing the same. Another blonde Lani-Flower girl was getting angry at Katie, but the Refs didn't put up their naughty cards so the game went on.

It had been a little while since you were sitting alone on the bench with just Bingo and your Lolly Jar. You scanned the pitch again, wondering whether Hempo was, but couldn't find her. Everyone was warming up on the sidelines. Steph had told you to count how many lollies you could eat so that you were left with something to do.

But you were growing very bored when no goals were happening, and no one to talk to.

So, as your Mama always said, do what makes you happy.

So you did.

You clambered out of your seat, using your big muscles to lug the Lolly Jar with you. Everyone was still playing around you, but you knew that Lani and Mary were here somewhere.

Without thinking, you forget your coat in your chair.

You were careful with every step you took, making sure you were holding the Jar tight. You stopped and waited for people to pass by so you weren't in the way, and it didn't take long for Red Jerseys to turn into Blue ones.

You felt a little out of place with your bright yellow jersey, you thought that no one else knew what you were wearing. After a little while longer of trampling down the sideline, you found a similar bench to the Arsenal one, except there was not a blotch of red in sight.

It took you a few more steps until you shivered at the coolness. You felt silly for not remembering your coat like Mama told you, but you didn't want to leave your Lollies instead. Mama told you to always share your Lollies, so you were doing what she told you to do, just not everything.

You found a coat similar to yours alone on one of the seats. It looked very warm, and you wanted to be warm, so you put the jar down with caution and grabbed the jacket with ease, slipping it on like Mama had taught you.

It wasn't until you saw Mary being subbed on and a cautious hand grabbing your shoulder that you realised that you had one of your ribbons falling from your hair.

“Um, excuse me.” You heard a woman say, making your little head reel up. “I think you're wearing my jacket.”

The sight of Hempo — or Lauren, as Stephy said — sent you into shyness. Mama said you weren't allowed to talk to strangers, even if they seemed friendly and smiled. You didn't necessarily think of Hempo as a stranger, since Mama talked to her and Stephy knew her name, but you only knew her from today, so an introduction was needed in order for you to feel even remotely safe.

“Was cold.” You muttered, holding your Lolly Jar as tight as you could, making you realise that you had not only left your coat on the Arsenal Bench, but Bingo, too. “Sorry.”

This sent your big girl feelings over the edge. The combined factors of strangers, the loud noises of the crowd, your coldness, and no Bingo made your lips quiver and your eyes rimmed with tears. You struggled to put the Lolly jar down but did so in a hurry, avoiding Hempo’s eyes as you tried to shake off her jacket.

The blonde woman stood above you in shock, feeling a wave of guilt wash over her when tears flooded your cheeks. She hadn't meant to make you cry. She was just confused about why you were there, and not with Arsenal, and why you were wearing her coat instead of your own.

“Oh, no, I'm so sorry.” She spoke, shaking her head as she knelt on the floor, making sure you were okay with her being at your level. “You can keep my jacket, I swear. You're smart for staying warm—”

“—Mama says swearing is bad.” You retorted, tears drying the minute the blonde spoke. Sniffles fell from your nose. “Are you on the Lani-Flower’s team?”

Lauren looked at you incredulously. “The what?”

“My Auntie Lani and Flow— Fowler, is on that team,” You pointed onto the pitch, specifically Mary, who was carrying the ball down the wing. Lauren glanced across the field, noticing Mary had no clue about what was going on. She looked back at you and smiled meekly.

“Is your Mum or Dad in the crowd somewhere? I could always help you find them.”

The mention of a father made your eyebrows furrow. You had thought that Hempo had known your Mama, but apparently not.

“You were talking to my Mama just then!” You sighed, picking up your Jar and peeling off the lid. “I was sitting on Stephy’s lap when you waved at me.”

“What?” It took a beat for Hempo’s face to change, a flow of realisation painting her features. You popped a treat into your mouth. “Oh! You're Foord’s daughter! Sorry, wait-”

You watched as the woman kneeled down again, carefully using her hands to open the split of her jacket that covered your jersey. It revealed the bold Australian colours and emblem. You pivoted so that your shoulders showed off your last name.

“Want a Lolly?” You asked, holding out the heavy container.

“Sure… I guess.” Lauren hesitated but nodded after soaking in your adamant state. “I'm sorry for asking but… why are you over here?”

“I'm looking for Auntie Lani.” You stated, not bothering to ask the woman before making your way over to a spare seat. “Mama told me that I should share my Lollies, but my Auntie Stephy was warming up, and Kim is a little scary sometimes, and Wally was stretching, and Ky Ky was playing, so Flower and Lani were left.”

Lauren managed to understand your whines to help you up onto the chair, joining next to you. “Did Caitlin say you could come over here.”

“Um,” You pondered, slightly sheepish. “She didn't say no.”

“Oh,” Lauren replied, unable to conform to a solid response. “Um, do you want me to get Alanna for you, then?”

You thought to yourself for a moment, thinking about whether Hempo was nice enough to stay with you until you felt like moving again. You settled on a yes.

“No that's okay.” You spoke, leaving the Lolly Jar on your chair and moving into Lauren’s lap. “You can have more Lollies. Mama said I should share.”

Without thinking, Lauren shoved her hand down the jar, grabbed a handful of lollies and slowly popped them into her mouth one by one. She didn't know if keeping you with her was a good idea, especially after Laia shot a brilliant goal, sending City into the lead. Alanna was warming up, getting ready to go on, so no Australians could help her out.

You weren't affected by the score, too busy babbling on about how much you wanted some sort of Bingo that Lauren had no idea about. You were content on the woman’s knee, happy in the way she bobbed up and down rhythmically, similar to how Ellie Belly would when your Mama was in interviews.

You both fell into comfortable conversation, leading each other into new topics as the game went on. Lauren let you play with her hands, and you didn't mind how many strawberries and creams she was taking from your jar. No one from either team had noticed the two of you in your own little bubble.

Everyone except a man with a big camera and a microphone.

The English woman didn't know you well. She knew that Caitlin kept you away from the media and that you were a very private part of her life that she kept at bay. You were a bubbly child with a bright personality, she thought, but she also wondered whether you got yourself into trouble as often as it seemed.

Lauren knew the man from City’s media team. He was friendly, and nice to talk to, but she had never had the experience of a toddler in her arms to handle this kind of attention.

“Who might this be?” He spoke, holding the camera up to the both of you.

Before Lauren could answer, you swerved your front to face her chest, potent in the way you shoved your body away from the camera. Your Mama had taught you to do this from a very young age, and now it felt like second nature.

Lauren caught onto your worry almost instantly, shaking her head towards the kind man, waving his endeavours off.

The man must've caught on quickly, as the camera dropped as fast as it arrived. You kept your head buried into Hempo’s neck, curling your legs around her waist, thankful for the way she pulled your hood up.

“Don't worry, I don't like cameras all that much, either.” She cooed, rubbing your back in comforting circles, relieved at your tense figure softening as she did so. “Sometimes it's just good to talk without them, eh?”

“Yeah,” You muttered in agreement, pulling your head away slowly, taking your time to turn back around.

The game was coming to an end, heading into extra time, and you were feeling the effects of your long adventure hurling over your little body.

Arsenal were not playing to their strengths, and the frustration of their gameplay radiated in beams to everyone who watched.

You had just caught sight of Auntie Lani being subbed on before your eyes had drifted close and your breathing had evened. Lauren only noticed your deep slumber when the full-time whistle blew, and you made no more advancements towards your Lolly Jar.

Hempo tried extra hard to keep you sound as she curled her arms around you, lifting you into a cuddle, and walked towards her celebrating teammates and defeated rivals silently. With your hood still up and the blonde rubbing small patterns on your back, you held onto the woman peacefully, relishing the fatigue that had caught up to you.

Hempo had separated from her confused teammates — who were all questioning when Lauren ever had any affiliation with a child — and strolled over to the Arsenal bench, where a flurry of anxiety hit her straight.

Kyra was indefinitely pale. Wally and Leah were searching the parameters of the field. Katie was ridiculing fans, and Caitlin was an absolute wreck.

Beth was beside herself, Viv by her side, comforting her spouse with a strained expression herself.

A flooding red flushed Lauren’s face, the reality of the stress the girls in front of her were under hitting her like a truck. She was conflicted in keeping you sleeping and running over to announce that you were okay. She resulted in jogging cautiously, nearly dropping the Lolly Jar on the way.

Leah was the first to notice the young Lioness. “Lauren, what are you—”

The Arsenal Captain nearly collapsed at the sight of your tiny figure curled up in her arms, meeting the woman in the middle and calling out to the rest of the girls.

“Oh my fucking God, where was she?” Caitlin sighed, immediately taking you from Lauren’s chest and hugging the breath from your lungs.

You stirred out of your daze, surprised by the sound of your Mama’s voice and not Lauren’s.

“Mama swear.” You whispered, not comprehending the gravity of the situation as you found a new comfortable position in your Mama’s arms.

“She was just wandering around with her Lolly Jar, looking for Alanna and Mary,” Lauren spoke, her voice cracking at the amount of eyes on her. “I was with her the whole time. She just wanted to share her Lollies, and erm— she forgot her coat so— yeah… oh and something about Bingo—”

“Thank you so much,” Caitlin said, looking down at you and hugging you closer. “How long did you think she was by herself?”

“Oh, not long.” Lauren started. “I found her with my coat on, so she knew what to do with herself. But I made sure no one recorded her. I'm not sure about when she was alone though, sorry.”

“Don't be.” Caitlin sighed. “I'm just glad she was with someone.”

“Shared my Lollies, Mama.” You whispered out from her neck. “But I think we need more Strawberries and Cream.”

Katie came up behind you and Mama with your toy Bingo in her hands. She took off your hood and poked your cheeks. “I think that's enough lollies for you, Bumblebee.”

You took Bingo and hugged her, smiling like not a minute in the world had passed, content with the new friend you had made and the lollies you had eaten.

You hoped every match was like this.

________________________

#woso community #woso x reader #caitlin ford x reader #caitlin foord #arsenal wfc #matildas x reader #auswnt #arsenal #kyra cooney cross #harper gorry #katrina gorry

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pascallftv · 4 months

Text

eighties baby

summary: your parents throw an 80’s themed party in their mansion. you try your best to contain your infatuation for joel, your dad’s best friend. you and your friend get a little too drunk and joel decides to teach you a lesson.

content: joel miller x reader, no outbreak, little plot, dbf!joel, reader in her twenties

warnings: CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT. 18+ mdni!, age gap is 20s/50, piv unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), cream pie, doggystyle, dirty talk, choking

an: i’m baaaaaack ;) this was… wow! pls enjoy

“Your ass looks immaculate.”

You glance over your shoulder in the reflection of the mirror, locking eyes with your best friend. She’s giving you wild eyes while biting her bottom lip that’s covered in bright red lip stick. Her makeup was done very vibrantly compared to usual; blue eyeshadow with bright pink blush.

“You don’t think it’s too short?” You ask, popping a hip to accentuate your ass further under your very tight and very short mini skirt. Typically, you wouldn’t mind if a little bit of cheek was hanging out the bottom of your skirt, but this was your parents’ party, not your typical college party. Your best friend rolled her eyes and you and laid a smack down on your ass. You yelped in surprise.

“It’s perfectly fine. It’ll be dark.” She begins, then her voice lowers. “Plus, Joel will want to eat you alive when he sees you in it.”

You bite your bottom lip to fight back a grin. She knew you too well. You sighed and placed your hands on your hip, your head turning to the side as your further inspect your outfit in your full length mirror. You decided to go with an 80s glam rock look instead of the typical vibrant colors from the time period. You were wearing a tight black leather skirt and matching top, with knee high platform boots with silver chains on them. You had grungy black eyeshadow matched with a glossy red lip. You felt hot.

“I can’t be too obvious. You cannot let me get too drunk tonight.” You say sternly. You were talking more to yourself than anything. You knew if you drank too much alcohol you would make a fool out of yourself in front of Joel.

Joel was your father’s main man. They’d known each other for decades now. Joel was a stern man; the crinkles by his eyes from his fifty years of wisdom weren’t usually intensified by joy, more by scowls. You’d like to think at one point he was a light hearted man, but you can’t help but wonder what in his years turned him into such a sour puss. You could count on one hand the amount of times you’d seen him genuinely laugh. It was an extremely rare occurrence, but the times he had, it was the most amazing sound you’d ever heard.

“Fine. But this is your chance to act as unhinged as you want because in the morning you can blame the alcohol.” Your best friend winks at you, patting you once more on the bum.

“You’re a terrible influence.” You turn to face her. Your shorter friend stares up at you with a devilish grin and runs her thumb along your bottom lip, cleaning up your red lipstick.

“We should head down there, take a couple shots, scope it out.” She suggests, grabbing your perfume off your vanity and spritzing it on the both of you a few times. You nod in agreement, and check your outfit in the mirror one last time. You take a deep breath and grab your friend’s hand to leave your bedroom. The 80s music was already thumping from your parent’s massive surround sound speakers downstairs. The lights were off, with the sole light source being a couple lamps and some red lights your parents used for their annual Halloween party.

When you made it downstairs, the house was already packed out. The entire neighborhood was in your parents’ house. All of the couples in the neighborhood were in attendance, as well as their children (all in their twenties or older). If you squinted hard enough, it even looked like a college party. The lighting was just enough to see the basic traits of everyone’s faces, most of them being somewhat recognizable to you. You had just graduated from college earlier that month, so you were home temporarily until you found your full-time calling.

Your friend dragged you to the kitchen where all of the alcohol was stashed. On the island, there was a lineup of liquor with the appropriate mixers. She decided to pour you each a hefty shot of tequila, as well as a lime wedge. You absolutely hated any dark liquor, and unfortunately vodka had been tainted for you in your time at college, so tequila was the sole surviving option for you. You didn’t mind the taste of tequila, but the catch was its effect on you. Unlike other forms of liquor, tequila made you incredibly horny. After around 4 tequila shots, you had the tendency to shed off articles of clothing like you were battling a heat wave. This made you nervous considering you knew Joel would be in attendance; however, as your friend said, you can use the liquor as a scapegoat if it got that bad.

As you and your friend shot back your tequila, you began wondering where Joel could be. The party started over thirty minutes ago, and it was uncharacteristic of him to be late, meaning he was in the house somewhere. The thought alone made your skin crawl.

“One more.” Your friend called out over the music, pouring you each another hefty shot. Your eyes got wide. You knew you’d have to take a break from drinking after this shot, otherwise you’d end up butt ass naked in the middle of this party.

Another hefty shot later, and you were already feeling the buzz from the alcohol. Your veins felt tingly and your limbs felt weightless. You each made yourselves your mixed drink of choice, and decided to make your way out to the makeshift dance floor in your parents’ spacious living room. They had a portable disco floor, as well as a disco ball hung from the ceiling. No one took parties more seriously than your parents.

Your friend grabbed your arm and pulled you onto the dance floor, with “Talking in Your Sleep” by the Romantics blasting from the speakers. Your eyes wandered around the room trying to find the brown eyed man you’d be longing to see. Sure enough, you spotted him. He was sitting on the sofa, leaning back with his legs spread out in front of him. He had a glass of what appeared to be whiskey in his hand, resting on his thigh. You gulped when you noticed he was already looking at you. You quickly looked away and took a sip of the tequila sour you half-assed at the kitchen makeshift bar.

You made eye contact with your friend, and you gave her panic eyes to let her know you found him. She caught on almost instantly, and took that as a queue to scoot out of your line of sight. She leaned closer to you to say something in your ear.

“Go sit next to him.” She suggested loudly into your ear.

You shot her a look of unease. Wouldn’t that be too obvious? You shook your head no rapidly in response. It was too early in the night for you to do something as ballsy as that.

After about half an hour, your friend’s drink was empty and she was dragging you back to the kitchen. Your drink was still three-fourths full. Your stomach was bubbling with anxiety knowing that Joel had a direct view of you in your anything but conservative outfit. Besides, you were scared for your actions if you ingested any more alcohol.

Your friend took two more shots and mixed herself another strong cocktail. You knew she was going to be shitfaced in the matter of minutes. You rub your forehead and sigh. It’s going to be a quick night for her.

Your predictions were correct.

Forty minutes passed and her cocktail was gone, and so was she. She was so plastered that she couldn’t stand up straight, constantly grabbing your arm for support. You looked around the room and immediately made eye contact with Joel. He’s watching the both of you intensely, his head nodding over to the side as he observes your friend stumbling around. You’re fully embarrassed at how gone your friend was already. Your stomach flips when you noticed Joel was lifting himself off his spot in the sofa, making his way towards the both of you. He grabbed onto your arm, a look of concern crossing his features.

“Come on.” He said shortly, moving his arm from yours to hers, helping her stand up somewhat straight. “Let’s take her upstairs.”

You glanced down at your friend and her head was lulling to the side, her eyes fluttering shut. There was no salvaging her. You nodded in response to Joel and helped him practically carry your friend upstairs to your bedroom. After her nearly falling every few steps, you finally make it to your bedroom. You noticed Joel’s eyes wandering around the walls of your room as he took in the decor. You had various band posters still hanging in your childhood bedroom, many of them being 60’s rock bands that your dad showed you. You gently lay your friend down onto your bed, and almost immediately she’s snoring.

“Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry about this, Joel.” You mutter, looking up at him with apologetic eyes. You absentmindedly toy with your hands in front of you. Despite the shots you did take, you were still feeling nervous; the liquid courage wasn’t doing its job.

Joel stepped closer to you and shook his head. His brown eyes were soft and his eyebrows were furrowed.

“It was nothing, really.” He assures you, taking a glance back at your friend. He was amused at just how fast your friend fell asleep. He turned back to look at you and felt something flutter deep in his gut.

He had kept his eyes in you all night. He couldn’t believe how grown you were. Sure, he had known you since you were young, but you were a woman now. You had always been pretty, but now, you were stunning. He felt disgusting about it. Of all the women in his life, none of them compared to you, his best friend’s daughter. The entire night he had watched the way your latex skirt was fighting to stay over the plump flesh of your ass. Your top wasn’t much better; it left little to the imagination, your nipples peaking through the thin fabric of it. You were genuinely perfect in his eyes, and it was causing him the most intense moral battle of his life.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked quietly. His eyes were wandering over you, but he was saying nothing. It looked as though he was fighting something internally.

“What are you doing here?” He asked blandly, ignoring your question entirely. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

“What do you mean?” You pondered, crossing your arms over your chest, unintentionally pushing your boobs up further, placing them in perfect display for Joel.

“You could be anywhere, yet here you are drunk at your parents’ party.” He said, glancing down at your chest, hoping you wouldn’t notice, but of course you did. You chuckle in response.

“I just graduated college, Joel. I’m home temporarily until I can find something full time. What’s the matter? Am I inconveniencing you somehow?” You asked with pure sass.

“Well not entirely, no.” Joel says, stepping closer to you. “You’d think you and your friend would have a little self control considering the environment. This isn’t college, sweetheart.”

“I beg your pardon? I’ve barely drank anything. For god sake I helped you carry her.” You get defensive, emphatically gesturing towards your friend that’s passed out in your bed. “And unfortunately she could’ve been way worse than this.”

“You should’ve stopped her before she was fighting to keep herself standing.” Joel scolded you, his brows furrowing further.

“Aww what’s wrong, Joel? You have no children of your own so you have to parent me?” You snarled, stepping another inch closer to him. Joel frowns, his fist clenching at his hip.

“You’re a little fucking brat, ain’t ya?” Joel growls, getting centimeters away from your face. He was so close that you could feel his hot breath on the skin of your face.

“And you’re just a dickhead, huh?” You fire back.

Joel grabbed you by the forearm and tugged you towards your bedroom door. Before you could protest, Joel was dragging you down the hall to a spare bedroom. He swiftly pulled you inside and locked the door behind you. He grabbed you firmly by the throat, squeezing just the sides as to not restrict your airflow.

“Bit of an attitude problem, eh?” Joel spoke sternly. You gulped, gawking up into his crinkled eyes. “Might just have to sort you out.”

“What are you doing, Joel?” You squeaked out, your hand reaching up to grab ahold of his forearm. His face moved closer to yours, his eyes moving down to your crimson lips.

“I can only imagine you put on this poor excuse of a skirt to try and get someone to pay attention to you in the way you’re craving. You’re a little fucking whore, aren’t you?” Joel growls, his free hand moving down to your skirt, pulling it away from your body so it smacked back against your plump thighs. You gasped. You didn’t know how to respond to that. Was this actually happening?

After years of secretly fantasizing about a moment like this, it was finally happening, and you were flabbergasted.

“Answer me. Tell me what you are.” His grip around your throat slowly moved up to your jaw, his fingers squeezing your cheeks, making your lips purse.

You groaned in response, a hand trailing up Joel’s torso to his chest, laying a flat hand against him. His heart was beating rapidly. You glanced down and noticed the bulge straining against his vintage Levi jeans. He was enjoying this a little too much. You forced your face away from his grip, grabbing his wrist as hard as you could.

“I’m not a whore.” Your words were laced with venom. You were frustrated. Not because of the substance of Joel’s words, but because you were so fucking aroused. If it were anyone else, you probably would’ve planted a firm kick in their groin or sucker punched them in the lip. His words were disgusting, but you were eating it up.

“No?” Joel cocked his head at you. His free hand snakes up under your skirt, his fingertips pressing against your folds. His fingers were met with moisture. Your panties were soaked through. His gaze fell to his hand, then back up to your doe eyes. He smirked devilishly at you, his hand moving to your face. With his thumb, he pawed at your bottom lip, pulling it away from your teeth.

“Your cunt says otherwise, darling.” He muttered, his breath fanning across your face once more. You swallowed hard. You averted your eyes from him, his gaze making you feel entirely too hot.

“My parents.” You blurted out, your gaze returning to his momentarily. He swallows, his thumb still sitting by your mouth.

“They won’t know.” He said. You retracted your grip from his forearm, and he took that as an opportunity to run his finger up the outside of your arm painfully slow. “What’s wrong sweetheart? Scared of your daddy finding out?”

Your lips parted, a harsh exhale escaping your throat. Your body was on fire, your skin littered with goosebumps from Joel’s touch. To any normal person, this situation would be incredibly alarming. Yes, your moral compass was clawing at the back of your mind, but you craved interaction. Your morals were out the window, your desires taking superiority.

“Yes.” You whispered, your gaze falling to Joel’s lips. They were tempting you.

“If you don’t want this, stop me.”

Joel’s hand moved from your arm back towards the bottom of your skirt, pushing it up over your thighs, your red panties on full display.

“Fuck.” Joel growled, his fingertips grazing your mound through the lacy fabric. He pushed your panties to the side, his finger running through your folds, collecting your arousal. “Stop me, angel.” He teased.

His fingertip ghosted over your sensitive clit, your legs jolting in response, a whimper leaving your mouth. His mouth hovered over the soft skin of your neck, his breath stirring up goosebumps.

“S’matter sweetheart?” Joel muttered, planting a soft kiss to your throat. “Tell me what you need.”

“N-need more.” You said, your brows furrowing in desperation. You glanced down at his hand between your legs, your lower gut fluttering at the sight. He applied more pressure to the circles he was dancing over your swollen bud, the pleasure sending your head to lull backwards. You whimpered more, your legs beginning to feel like jello.

“You sound so pathetic.” Joel spat, working his fingers faster on your clit. You exhaled unevenly, your hand coming down on Joel’s bicep for stability.

You felt that familiar white heat beginning to ignite low in your belly, your cunt throbbing steadily. Your eyes squeezed shut. You were close— but Joel knew that. He wasn’t going to let you come just yet. Without warning, Joel halted his actions, his hand leaving your folds. You could’ve cried in that moment. Joel grabbed your forearm and tugged you towards the bed, pushing you down onto the duvet.

“Joel, please. I need to cum.” You whined, your head falling back into the soft mattress. Joel purses his lips at you, his hand running along the smooth skin of your leg, inching closer to where you needed his attention most.

“Jesus, sweetheart. At least you know what you want.” Joel said, squeezing the flesh of your thigh with the rough skin of his palm. “Here’s how this is gonna go. First I’m going to taste you. Then, I’m going to fuck you until you forget how to think. Got it?”

You nodded pathetically, grinding your hips down onto the mattress, desperate for some sort of friction. Joel ghosted his hands over your thighs to the seam of your latex skirt, gripping it between his fingers. In a swift motion, Joel tugged the skirt down your legs and off your body, tossing it somewhere on the floor. He left your boots on, not quite wanting to get rid of them yet. Your pussy looks so pretty underneath the transparent lace fabric of your thong. It left little to nothing to Joel’s imagination. Your breasts were spilling out of your black top, your areolas peaking out. You looked breathtaking.

“Fuck, angel. I wish you could see yourself. So pretty for me.” Joel muttered, lowering his face to your groin, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh. He ran his large hand up the back of your thigh, squeezing every few inches. You bite your lip and you stared down at his face as he littered kissed across your thighs. His salt and pepper beard added even more texture to the sensations you were feeling. He slipped his fingers underneath the fabric of your panties and slowly pulled them down your tights and over your boots, leaving your heat bare. Joel lowered his face down to your core, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin. He pressed a kiss to your pelvic bone, then ghosted his lips in a line down to your sensitive bud. He planted another kiss over your clit, taking his sweet time teasing you. Your pussy was throbbing at this point, desperate for any sort of touch.

“Joel please.” You pleaded, grinding your hips up towards his mouth. “I need your tongue.”

“Good girl.” He said, lowering his tongue to your folds, licking a wet stripe up your vulva, tracing a circle around your clit, sucking down on it gently. He moaned into your flesh, the vibrations sending a chill down your spine. His tongue began to work faster, flicking up and down and side to side over your clit. He brought his middle finger to your opening, ghosting circular motions over it, before slowly pushing it inside of you. You exhaled deeply at the sensation. He began pumping his finger rhythmically in and out of you, paying special attention to curl his fingertip upwards to brush against your g spot. As he felt your walls growing accustom to the girth of his singular digit, he added a second finger, pumping faster. Just from his fingers and tongue, you already felt fucked out of your mind. The pleasure sent shocks down your legs and up your spine, your head rolling back into the mattress in euphoria. A quiet moan slipped through your cherry lips, your fists grabbing the bedding for leverage to cope with the immense pleasure coursing through you.

“Joel.” You whimpered, one of your hands jetting down to grab at his hair as he lapped at your wet heat. His soft brown eyes flicked up to meet yours at the sound of your voice. Your moan went straight to his already throbbing cock.

“Christ, baby.” He groaned, lifting away from your core to unbutton his Levi’s. His hand fumbled with the zipper to get them off as fast as he could. The anticipation was killing him; he was so hard that it was beginning to hurt. He needed inside you immediately.

Finally managing to slide his jeans down his legs, his cock was straining against his boxers. The tent was revealing in itself; you already knew he was packing a punch. It felt painfully slow, but finally Joel slipped off his boxers, revealing his erection. Leaking at the tip, he brushed his thumb over, cleaning up the precum that had accumulated from tasting you.

You sat up from the mattress and grabbed his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his. Your lips moved against his in a passionate rush. You could taste yourself on his lips. Another whimper rose from your throat, the moan vibrating off his lips. The sound of your wet kiss filled the room as he lowered his body over yours to lay you back down against the bed. His hand moved from his cock to your breast, pulling it out of your top and giving it a firm squeeze.

“Fuck.” He muttered against your lips as you rocked your hips into his. You needed his touch desperately.

“Fuck me.” You breathed out, pulling away to look him in the eye. “Please.”

That was all Joel needed to hear. He reached down to take his cock in his hand again, guiding his top to press into your folds. He ran back and forth against your slick, his precum mixing with your arousal. His eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as he felt your wetness already beginning to coat him. His eyes lifted back to meet yours as he began to slowly press his tip into your entrance, the stretch already making you feel crazed. Your lips parted, an exhale escaping your lips as he pressed himself into your further. Your hands darted up to grab onto his biceps as leverage. He lowered down to your lips, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to them as he pushed his length inside of you to the hilt. Another moan escaped your lips.

“Y’okay?” Joel breathed out, slowly pumping in and out of you, allowing you time to adjust. You nodded your head, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“More.” You begged. “I need more.”

Joel ran his hand from your thigh up your belly, dragging his finger tip slowly to take in every inch of your skin. He reached your neck, wrapping his calloused fingertips around your throat, carefully squeezing on the sides. He leaned down to meet your lips, taking your bottom lip between his teeth momentarily.

“So fucking needy.” He grumbled against your mouth, his eyelids fluttering closed.

Suddenly, Joel began pounding into you. His hot breath fanned over your face as he rammed in and out of you, his length reached the deepest parts of you. You gasped, your hand reached up to grab his wrist that was busy squeezing your throat. Your eyes rolled back in your head and he slammed into you over and over. You were sure he was hitting you so deep that he was nicking your cervix. Just when you thought you couldn’t be more overwhelmed with pleasure, Joel’s free hand snaked between your thighs, his thumb finding your clit, ghosting gentle circles over the sensitive nub. You squeaked out a moan, the pleasure overcoming your senses completely. Your legs began to shake from the stimulation, your lower belly muscles tensing from the overwhelming sensation. Your breath was shaking, the oxygen feeling as through it had completely left your lungs.

“F-fuck.” You stuttered as Joel thrusted into you. “I’m close.”

Joel took this as an opportunity to slide out of you, wasting no time in flipping you onto your belly, laying a hard slap against your bare ass cheek. He groaned as your ass jiggled from the slap, his hand coming back down to grab a handful of your flesh. You pressed your face down into the duvet, letting out a moan. Your pussy was throbbing from the sudden lack of attention. You wiggled your hips, nonverbally begging for Joel’s cock. He chucked, slapping your ass once more before pressing himself back at your entrance, ramming into you fully, his hips meeting your ass in a rush. He grabbed a cheek with his rough fingertips, pulling your ass apart to get a full view of himself slamming into you. Your tightest hole was on perfect display for him.

“One day I’m going to claim you here too.” Joel growled, his fingertip grazing the ring of your asshole. You gasped, your forehead coming down onto the bedding, pressing your face down into the duvet to cover your moan. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? Me claiming your tight little ass as mine?”

You nodded rapidly, a straggled breath leaving your mouth. It was so goddamn hard for your mind to focus on anything except the feeling of his tip grazing the opening of your cervix with every thrust. Once again, Joel reached his hand down to toy at your clit, bringing you closer to your climax. The white heat hit you again as your legs began to shake under you. Joel wasn’t far behind you, and his pace wasn’t easing up.

His hips met yours hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping echoing off the walls of the spare bedroom. If it weren’t for the music thumping downstairs, your sinful act would’ve already been heard throughout the entire house. Joel leaned down, kissing you against your spine, his hand kneading your ass.

“F-fuck, where do you want me? Your mouth? Or should I fill you up?” Joel grunted, his hand snaking around your front to firmly grab your breast, pinching your nipple between his fingertips.

You gasped, the stimulation for your nipple slipping you into the beginning of your orgasm. You didn’t answer him, the feeling of your impending climax completely taking over your body.

“Look at you cumming around my cock. Such a good fucking slut.” Joel growled, his pace somehow quickening further. His hand reached up to your hair, grabbing a fistful of locks and pulling your head backwards. His other hand reached around to your throat as he bent down to kiss you from the intense angle, your orgasm taking over you entirely. Your toes began to curl beneath you, your pussy clamping around Joel’s cock that was twitching deep inside you. Your pussy clenched down around his length, hugging it perfectly.

“Fuck.” Joel whimpered, his high hitting him like a train. Your spasming canal clamped down around him as he came in hot spurts, coating your walls deep inside of you. Your walls clenched around him, milking every ounce of cum from his length.

His thrusts slowed as his seed filled you up, his hands grabbing your hips for stability as he came the hardest he’d ever came in his life. He moaned as he slowly slipped his spent cock out of you, some of his release dripping out of your used up hole. The sight was intoxicating.

“Fuck.” Joel breathed out again, taking in the ruined state of your folds. He ran his fingers down your slick, mixing his cum with yours. You flinched at the sensitivity of your pussy, whining as he brushed over your clit.

You were spent. Your face was still pressed against the mattress, your ass still perched in the air. Joel’s cum was slowly leaking out of you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You were too fucked out of your mind to notice that Joel had left the bed to retrieve a wet rag from the attached bathroom. You winced as he gently cleaned up the juices spilling from you.

“You look so beautiful with my cum dripping out of you.” He spoke, running a hand up and down the back of your thigh. He pressed a kiss to your sore ass cheek from where he had smacked it.

You rolled over onto your back, your tender breasts jiggling from the movement. Joel leaned down and took a breast into his mouth, gently sucking on your hardened nipple.

“As much as I’d love to stay here and fuck you all night, I should go before your daddy starts to wonder where we went.” Joel said, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

A pit grew deep in your gut at the thought of Joel leaving you, but you knew the nature of this interaction and it would be silly of you to expect any different. You gazed up at him and frowned.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Joel shook his head and straightened up, moving his attention to dress himself. He began buttoning his flannel that he’d taken off during your interaction at some point that you hadn’t noticed. You watched in silence as he pulled his boxers and Levi’s back up over his legs.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Joel said after he was fully dressed. You were still laying on the bed completely nude attempting to recover from the mindblowing sex you’d just endured. Joel walked towards the door, turning briefly to look at your one last time.

“You might want to get dressed, sweetheart. Hate to have your daddy walk in to see my cum spilling out of you.” He winked, then disappeared out of the door, leaving you alone fucked out of your mind.

#joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #din djarin #the mandalorian #tlou fanfiction #tlou #smut #pedro x reader #joel x reader #dbf!joel #age g4p

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hecateslore · 29 days

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I want to eat your older bf simon alive (affectionate)

no but seriously I really liked him ESPECIALLY with those little gentle gestures like when he says something then kisses reader's head and goes to do his own business LIKE ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️😨 can we get more of him sometime pls?

we can always have olderboyfriend!Simon. For breakfast, lunch, dinner-- whenever you want.

"It says we use that one," You point to the sour cream. You and SImon decided, hey, let's make something we saw on tiktok! and of course, you have none of the ingredients, "This is the same thing." Simon holds up the container in his hand, "But this one is in the video, and what if it tastes weird." You explain. Simon huffs and grabs the other container and places it in the cart. "Okay now we need the small potatoes," You say watching the video again, for the fortieth time.

"I have red potatoes at home." Simon mumbles pushing the cart towards the produce section. "She specifically said yellow baby potatoes," You show him the video. Simon sighs grabbing two bags of the "petite potatoes".

When you got home you immediately start getting to work, roasting the potatoes making the stew, making the sauce thatcalledforthespecificsourcream but y'know how Simon's a cheapskate and doesn't like to try anything!

"Try it." you slide the bowl in front of him, "Are you gonna eat?" He asks immediately, "Yeah, but I want you to try it first." Simon cocks a brow, and digs in anyway, "It's good." He shrugs, You grab the spoon from his hand trying some of the stew, "Well that went to shit." You say, grabbing the bowl and tossing the stew in the trash, Simon chuckles at your reaction, "come here," he reaches to wrap his arms around your waist. He rests his head on your shoulder while you tap away on your phone ordering something from door-dash.

"I'm never making something off Tik Tok again." You mumble, Simon lets out a breathy laugh and kisses your shoulder, "It wasn't horrible," He tries, "It didn't taste like anything."

#lunden’s response ❀—#olderboyfriend!simon #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n

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petermorwood · 2 months

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Flammkuchen / Tarte Flambeé / "German pizza"

This evening I found a slab of Speck (strong-smoked bacon) in the freezer that I didn't know we had, there was half an onion and a tub of Lithuanian sour cream in the fridge, so @dduane decided to try Flammkuchen.

Originally, so the story goes, it was made by bakers as a pre-thermometer way to check the temperature of their wood-fired ovens (and provide a quick snack at the same time).

Tarte flambée is the French name, but "German Pizza" or indeed any sort of pizza it certainly isn't; there's neither tomato sauce nor cheese, and no yeast in the dough.

Whether it's German or French depends on who you ask, since it originates from the province of Alsace, an area which has changed hands a lot in the past couple of centuries and whose ownership has been A Source Of Friction Between Guess Who for almost as long.

To stay neutral, the recipe DD used is Swiss. ;->

Here's the translation:

*****

Alsatian tarte flambée

This delicious speciality from Alsace is also ideal for an aperitif. Thinly rolled bread dough with sour cream, onions and bacon cubes!

350g flour (12½ oz) 1.25 tsp salt 2 dl water (6.7 US fl oz / .42 US pt) 2 tbsp olive oil 200 g crème fraîche / sour cream (7 oz) 2 onions (we had less, so used less...) 120 g farmer's (thick, well-smoked) bacon in slices (4¼ oz) a small grind of pepper

And this is how it's done:

Mix flour and salt in a bowl. Pour in water and oil, mix and knead into a soft, smooth dough. Form the dough into a ball, cover and let it rest at room temperature for about 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 240 degrees (464 F). Halve the dough and roll it out into an oval shape about 3 mm thick (1/10 inch) on a lightly floured surface. Place the dough on two baking sheets lined with baking paper.

Spread the crème fraîche / sour cream over the dough, leaving a border of approx. 1 cm (½ inch) free all around. Peel the onions, cut them into fine rings, cut the bacon into strips, spread both over the crème fraîche / sour cream and season.

Baking per tray: approx. 12 minutes each on the bottom shelf of the oven.

*****

Since this was our first time making Flammkuchen, we baked them one at a time to check for errors. There were none (Swiss recipe!) and 12 minutes was exactly right to produce this result both times:

DD needs to be careful because of IBS so they were made with mostly bacon on one side, mostly onion on the other, and with a glass of cool white wine they made an excellent Sunday supper.

Next time, now we know how well this recipe works, we'll be more generous with the toppings. :->

Incidentally, rather than baking-trays or the pizza stone we need to replace (ceramic utensils, tile floors and gravity Do Not Mix Well) we used the cast-iron griddle which in summer often goes on the BBQ...

... and gave the oven a thorough pre-heating, then transferred the Flammkuchen in and out with a peel, all of which worked splendidly.

That tip about using baking paper is excellent, BTW: no sticking, no spillage, no washing up. I bet it'll work with other things as well.

Like, for instance, more Flammkuchen... ;->

#food and drink #Flammkuchen #“German pizza”#sour cream onion & bacon tart

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dduane · 3 months

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BTW, about this ranch dressing recipe...

...I thought I should report in on this, as I've got a longtime fondness for ranch dressing / dip in general, and the Hidden Valley brand in particular.

Being located in Ireland makes acquiring some US foodstuffs a bit of a challenge. Hidden Valley is hard to find—pretty much only in specialty / import stores—and (when you can find it) expensive.* (This nice place down in Cork, for example, though it has many other things I'm interested in, is charging €15.00 for 226 grams of the dry HVR dip mix. Which immediately raises the question "Do I really want it that much?", and provokes the answer "...Nah." I'd way sooner have three boxes of Cheez-Its.)

Anyway, making ranch dressing from scratch is a subject I've put a fair amount of study into over time, as fake-it-at-home sites have been circling the HVR recipe for many years. Most of them seem to agree on a basic concept that the most important parts of the flavor are onion powder and white pepper, along with dried parsley and various herb mixtures, normally including dill or dill weed.

The recipe above hits all the main notes I've seen elsewhere, though it goes for fresh herbs rather than dried, and these lend a slightly lighter flavor. (The only herb/seasoning missing from this recipe that I've seen mentioned more than once elsewhere is celery salt/seed.) Add buttermilk, a good sour cream (we've got nice Central European ones available now, which is good because to my continued regret Irish sour cream isn't up to much), and any old mayo you've got lying around, and this recipe produces a very nice ranch.

Is it identical to HVR? I'd say not. (Not least because there's way less salt in it, which strikes me as an improvement.) Is it close to HVR? Close enough for me. It's definitely nice on salad. I'll try some as a dip tomorrow. (I'm a little more gingerly about these things since I went lactose-intolerant.)

So there you have it. If you're a ranch fan, you might like to give this one a run.

*Interestingly, the Paul Newman ranch is a lot easier to find here. Go figure.

#ranch dressing #ranch dressing recipe

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jymwahuwu · 9 months

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Ever since the 1.2 update released and the storyline continues.. I remember the scene were blade and danheng met. Blade said he was loosing control when he saw danheng and his mars urges to kill him.. and I immediately thought of something when he said those..

So like.. what if we're one of the people who will pay the price? And the same situation where blade is loosing control over his mara strike.. and instead of trying to kill us.. he noncons you instead in a more feral state. Not giving you any mercy nor stopping until we're a sobbing mess and covered in white cream... (Man I don't even know what I'm thinking of...😀)

CW: non-con, recording without consent, others are watching, revenge, yandere, afab reader

I've thought about this too…if we're going to pay the price🫣 but Blade doesn't want to kill us, just wants to see us suffer or be ravaged…it must be that he loved us in Xianzhou, but…we betrayed him.

You are now forced to transform into immortality, just like him. Blade is chasing you. He does not control your freedom. Just putting a collar around your neck for a few days pushes you out, allowing you to walk around any planet. However, no matter which planet you visit, the Blade is destined to find you, pin your head to the ground, pounding you in the back, hitting sensitive spots. He knows your sensitive parts and forces you to orgasm. No matter what new friend, bond, or even new lover you have now, the end result is - you are strapped in front of them and have to sit on him and ride his cock like a dumb slut. "Blade…I'm sorry…" The tears of fear in your eyes were as stinging and sour as the ruthless betrayal you had brought him.

Will Silver Wolf and Kafka join? 🤔Silver Wolf may be more sympathetic to you and persuade Blade to play some games instead of chasing you endlessly, but she won't do much. Blowing bubble gum while recording and saving some videos of you sobbing can still be done. Afterwards, she refuses to do anything, and leaves to play the game. Kafka…she'll fuel or stop Blade in his Mara state, watch you get ravaged by Blade, and be like- "Bladie, listen to me: unleash the mara."

Those painful and hateful memories flooded into his mind, the scarlet eyes staring at you deepened, and the balls pressed against your sore and wet cunt. "Blade…don't…don't…I was wrong!! Stop…" You don't know if it's an illusion, feeling the already terrifying dick thicker and harder, buried deep inside you, against the opening of your uterus. And the white cream that had been pumped in couldn't bear this size, accompanied by the loud sound of soaking water, and some flowed out, dripping along your butt on the bed.

After it's over, you're lying in bed, exhausted, even your tears have dried, panting slowly, your body filled with cum, every hole fully cared for. The lady with the violet eyes and hair, remind him. "Bladie? Don't go too far. Take your little pet to take a bath." In the blurred vision, you watched the bandaged hand reach out to you, then hesitantly picked you up and took you into the bathroom.

#blade x reader #yandere honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr blade x reader #blade x you #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #yandere blade x reader

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 5 months

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thought you might enjoy this one, raven ;) how about headcanons of rollo and malleus who are crushing hard on g/n reader but the twist is that reader is dating/in love with their mortal enemy...THE OTHER GUY. what will rollo and malleus do? try to steal reader away to spite the other person? I eagerly await to see what you'll do with this prompt!!!

*rubs hand together* They're both emotionally repressed and silly little guys that I will happily torment 😈 This prompt reminds me of fjsbsjxvksnwkw this video…

I can now use Dorm Uniform artworks for the banners, yay--

Curiouser and Curiouser…

Emo Boi era? Emo Boi era.

Malleus is used to being alone. He’s used to it and yet… it has never felt this frigid, with needles of ice that prod his skin and scales with each step, the loneliness seeping into his blood and bones. The chill always comes when he sees you with Flamme—smiling, laughing—or when you turn down his invites to walk alongside him. “I already have plans with my boyfriend,” you’d say, and he’s encased in ice. “Sorry, maybe another time?”

It’s not just him that experiences the consequences of his gloomy mood. His classmates and the immediate surrounding environment also suffer. When Malleus passes, he brings with him angry thunder or hail the size of golf balls, floods the hall or brings a blanket of snow up to your knees. Everyone walks on eggshells, scared to do or say something to set him off.

He retreats from those rejected outings and spends the evenings alone, walking around campus to hit up all the gargoyle spots. Malleus laments to the gargoyles (and to Gao-Gao Dragon-kun), sharing about his romantic troubles. On the days when his mood is so sour he cannot even take his usual strolls, Malleus holes up in his bedroom with a blanket and a tub of ice-cream. He'll pout and indulge in the sweet frozen treat to chase off his sorrows, all while watching historical dramas and soap operas to temper his envy.

He savors the little victories, times when he’s able to have you for a moment of solidarity. Nothing is quite as enchanting to him as seeing how the sun blooms in your eyes when he performs what he considers such minor tricks—sparks of light that dance in the palm of his hand, a flower pulled from midair. (He considers flexing his magic small acts of revenge against Flamme too.)

... How is it, then, that you smile brighter still with him, when he abstains from the miracle of magic? The frustration is enough to make the light flicker out, and the flower crumble into ash. It’s not fair, Malleus thinks, that Flamme should come in to steal away the one I’ve had my eye on long before he has. Dragons can be territorial and possessive creatures—and you’re the treasure he’s guarded for so long.

His retainers awkwardly try to comfort him. Silver isn’t quite sure what to say, Lilia gently reminds Malleus that there will be others that take his breath away (“If you love them, then you must also learn to let them go,” Lilia had sagely advised)… and Sebek is Malleus’s personal hype man. He goes on for hours and hours about how “the human has poor taste in men!!”, shit talking Rollo, and extolling his young master. At one point, Sebek even advises that Malleus reveal Rollo’s misdeeds to you just to prove “the difference in nobility” between the two.

Malleus would be lying if he said he hadn’t considered any and all options. All it would take is the wave of his hand to decimate any rival, mage or no. Perhaps he could spin a curse to drive the others off, or simply whisk you away under the cover of night. But the longer he lingers on the ideas, the more they make his heart ache. No, he cannot bring any of them into fruition—he can't bear to see your happy expression shift to that of fright, the same way everyone else seems to regard him. Caving to his basest desires—it would be proof of the monster they see in him. It would make Rollo right.

It would be discourteous of me to intervene in another's personal affairs. It's his final decision, the mantra he recites to himself over and over and over again. Let go, and move on. Let go, and move on. Yet in his heart of hearts, he has not accepted it, cannot cut away the last of the threads that bind his feelings to you. Malleus is plagued by fitful nights, dreams that manifest as if just to mock him. In them, you're always shrouded in white, at some faraway altar. No matter how fast he runs or flies, he can never reach you. Other times, he's been forgotten entirely, not invited to the ceremony at all. Cast off into the darkness or a bog or an enchanted wood to stew and brood all alone.

He'll wake in a cold sweat and with an agonizing roar that shakes the entire castle. When Lilia and the others rush to his chambers to check on him, they find it in disarray. Items are thrown everywhere, the comforter cast off and the bed a mess from tossing and turning, ugly claw marks running across his curtains... The chandelier has fallen, the green-tipped candles of it catching the fabric on fire—and there he is, kneeling amid the flames, clutching at his head, his heart.

"Leave me be," Malleus snarls at his retainers. He knows the flames will not harm him, and they know it too. The least he can do is spare them from witnessing him in such a pathetic, distraught state. It’s over, isn’t it? He, the fearsome dragon, has lost to some self-righteous “hero”. His fairy tale’s happily ever after is impossible.

He’s coping… coping and seething—

At first, Rollo thinks you must be mad, or playing the part in some cruel prank. How can anyone genuinely be attracted to such a repulsive, despicable villain like Malleus Draconia? He cannot fathom it—yet the longer be observes, the more frightening the truth becomes: those feelings of yours are genuine. Rollo then concludes something even more wild: that Malleus as bewitched you, cast some sort of dark magic that clouds your common sense. After all, how can you not see that Malleus is so very, VERY wrong for you?

Whenever possible, Rollo tries to preach, to warn you about dealing with the devil (yes, he outright calls Malleus that) and giving into temptation. He furiously implores you to reconsider, to think of your soul and to salvage it. Alas!! His words only fall on deaf ears. He curses, thinking Malleus’s enchantment far too powerful for him to overcome through typical means. Still, Rollo shall not relent.

His digs and sleights directed at Malleus seem to only become more hateful. When they cross paths in the hallway, Rollo makes it a point to purposefully bump into him on the shoulder--and you can bet this man doesn't hold bad when it comes to the insults. (Sebek tends to yell back in Malleus's defense, while all Malleus does in response is tut and tighten the arm he has wrapped around you.)

Rollo remains cordial to you (though you're not free from his lectures about how you should "renounce Malleus Draconia's hand"). He's still very much resistant to any sort of affection you try to demonstrate for him, be it verbal, physical, or otherwise, often shooing it away or deeming it "salacious". However, he's quick to change his tune if Malleus happens to be nearby, enduring your compliments and brief touches as he fights a blush from creeping onto his face. The blush is something he hastily conceals with his handkerchief and insists is "just the weather" or "a fever", nothing more than that.

There are instances when Rollo wonders why he's dedicating so much time and effort into saving one puny, pathetic person. His cause is so much greater than that, and yet he cannot tear himself away. Perhaps, he reasons, you are just that pitiful, and he feels sorry for you to fall victim to Malleus's machinations again and again. In his mind, Malleus is the monster that has kidnapped some innocent royal, and he, Rollo, is the saint sent to liberate them. Why is it, then, that he also sees your face everywhere even when he doesn't mean to? It's maddening to gaze into his fireplace and jolt back, thinking he has seen a ghostly face in the flames.

Much to Rollo's chagrin, his aide and vice president (and even the entire gaggle of enchanted NBC gargoyles) offer their unsolicited romantic advice. They demonstrate their unwavering support in other ways as well, often sneaking about to check on their beloved prez and making an effort to speak highly of him specifically in your presence. The gargoyles also (annoyingly) try to set a "romantic ambience" up by singing and tossing glitter down on you and him when you happen to speak. They're the wingmen Rollo didn't ask for--

It's ridiculous that they would think I have even a passing interest in seeking intimate companionship, Rollo quietly seethes. He doesn't understand where anyone would get that impression of him from. But everyone around him, even the folks of the City of Flowers, can see it for themselves. Rollo seems haunted by something, always looking over his shoulder with a longing in his eyes. The line between disgust and desire are gradually blurring, in spite of the man himself not recognizing it for what it is.

Rollo becomes increasingly frustrated that you refuse to listen to him, that you continue to hang all over Malleus like some brainwashed thrall. He doesn't even know what he's mad at anymore. At Malleus, for taking you for himself? At you, for being so stupid? At himself, for not being strong enough to bring you back to your senses? Maybe it's all three. It's become an obsession now, never too far from his mind and always gnawing away at his every thought. This fire under his skin, the urge to sin, sin, sin… He feels like he's going crazy--

When the anger has finally swallowed his sanity, Rollo, numb, comes to a singular dark conclusion: it's not him, it's you. It was always you, because all this time, you were in on this ruse. Of course. It was so obvious. How could he have not realized it before? You must be a mage too, one that had cast a horrible curse upon him, made him go mad with desire. Dangerous—you were dangerous, and he had to be rid of you just like he had to be rid of Malleus Draconia. For the world's sake. For his own sake, before fanning flames converged into another inferno.

And so he calmly takes out a plain white letter and matching envelope, penning an invitation to you. He asks you to come visit him in the City of Flowers, that he will be waiting for you at the top of the bell tower. You appear here as requested, and you’re greeted with an offer most ominous: choose him or Malleus; be his or burn like the wicked being that you are. There’s no humor to Rollo’s eyes, only a fervent fire blazing in the darkness. He awaits your answer, ready to cast his judgment soon after.

#Rollo is Not Daijoubu #Rollo Flamme x Reader #Malleus Draconia x Reader #twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #Reader #self insert #Rollo Flamme #curiouser and curiouser #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #tw // angst #angst

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ladykissingfish · 2 months

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*Obito and Kakashi at a store* Obito: Thanks again for helping me, Bakashi. I had no idea what Rin might like for Valentine's Day. Kakashi: I'm just shocked that you've finally gotten up the nerve to confess to her. I had bets going with Minato-sensei on how long it'd take you. Obito, scowling: Love your confidence in me. Okay ... *they come to a section of stuffed toys* Which kind should I get her? What kind would YOU want? Kakashi: I'd want the pink wolf, but, Rin might want the bear? Obito: No, I'll get the wolf. You two have similar tastes. Kakashi: You better hope so ... every single thing you got for her is something that I'd pick for myself. The flowers, the candy, and now this toy ... Obito: *takes the things up to the register* Have more faith in yourself, man. *Obito pays and the two head outside the store* Kakashi: Well, I'll get going home, now. I don't want to be a third wheel when you take these things to her. Good luck! Remember to -- Obito, blushing: Um ... um ... *holds out everything in his arms* T-these are actually for you ... Kakashi: W-what? Obito: I wanted to be sure that everything I got you was something you'd really want. R-rin suggested I do it this way, to break the ice. I ... I've wanted to confess to you for the longest time, but I wasn't sure how you'd react. Obito: *chances it to take Kakashi's hands in his own* Obito: Bakashi, I love you, and it would make me really happy if we dated. W-what do you say? Kakashi: *Kakashi drops Obito's hands, and Obito panics, thinking he made a horrible mistake* Obito: O-oi! Hey I'm sorry, please forget I said that stuff, I don't want to lose your friendship or -- Kakashi: *reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small, neatly wrapped box* Kakashi, blushing: F-for you ... *Obito opens the box with shaky hands to reveal two hand-carved beads on a silver chain. One bead is a small cat, the other a dog* Obito: K-kakashi -- ! Kakashi: I wanted to give this to you for a long time, too. But I didn't want to stand in the way of you and Rin, because you two are my best friends. But if Rin understands, and you feel the same about me, then ... Obito: *grabs Kakashi's face and kisses him* YES! Kakashi: *blushes and hugs Obito tightly* Yes. And now that we're boyfriends, can I tell you something important? Something said with total honesty? Obito: Of course! That's the only type of relationship I'd want to have with you! Kakashi: Okay. Your mouth tastes like sour cream, ramen, and dango. I don't know WHAT kind of insane diet you have going on, but I think it's something we need to work on. Obito: Obito: Maybe total honesty isn't the best thing ...

#obikaka #kakaobi #obito x kakashi #valentines day #team minato #kakashi hatake #obito uchiha #rin nohara #minato namizake #love #kkob #obkk

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littletrippyyhippyy · 2 years

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The thought of Steve having a breeding kink is just 😩 imagine him watching you make your pregnancy craving concoctions in the kitchen in the middle of a swim - since you’re super hungry. Your swollen belly on full view for him to see while you wear a cute yellow bikini. If you weren’t pregnant with your current baby, he’d fuck one into you right now - no questions asked.

{Pregnancy Sex, Fingering, Use of Y/N once, PiV, Soft Smut but he wants it to be rough, Breeding Kink, Fluff, Dominance if you squint}

“Steve, babe - I’m making a snack! Do you want some?” You were currently in the kitchen, making a peanut butter and pickle sandwich. “I don’t know, should I be cautious about what you’re making this time? Because I thought I was going to die yesterday from your crazy ass concoction. Like who eats olives, pickled beets and sour cream - all together? I’m not allowing you to feed me with my eyes closed, anymore. No thank you.”

You scoffed, laughing at the same time. “Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad. I’m making peanut butter and pickle sandwiches!” Steve looked at you once again and gagged. “I’ll pass but thanks baby” You shrugged.

You continued your doing, cutting up pickles as you swayed your hips to the music Steve had put on. You had no idea he was watching your every move. Your swollen belly and tits. The way they moved as you did. The bikini top didn’t have much hold or coverage, which made him stare even harder.

That day you and Steve decided to have a baby, he thought he had lost his damn mind. He was always overjoyed making love to you, telling you how much he’d love to get you pregnant and how hot you’d look. It didn’t take long for you to say yes.

That was when Steve was like another man in bed. The overstimulation, the screams and moans, the feeling of his cum shooting into you more than once.

Every time he’d cum in you, he’d stay there for a few minutes just so it won’t leave your cunt. When he would pull out, he’d finger you - trying to push all of his seed back into you. It was pornographic every time he fucked you, ever since that day you said yes.

~*~*~*~*~

Steve continued watching - his cock hardening as every second passed. Right before you had finished making your sandwiches, he had already gotten up and stood right behind you. He rested he chin onto your shoulder, rubbing his hands along your exposed belly. “You look so hot, you know that? I can’t believe I got to fuck a baby into you. Can’t even take my eyes off of you, babe”

You could feel Steve’s hard cock against you, making you moan quietly. You grabbed one of his hands, pulling it down to your aching cunt. The only thing that was keeping his fingers off of you, were those fucking swimsuit bottoms. “You need my fingers, baby? Or my cock? You tell me - sweets” You grabbed his wrist harder. “Both, Steve - please”

He was quick with his movements, untying your swimsuit bottoms with just one pull of each hand. You were already wet, aching for anything. He slid his fingers down your stomach, slowly making his way to your pussy. Just the touch of one of his fingers made your body flinch. “Let me make you more comfortable, sweets”

Helping you to the couch, he laid down first, back propped up as his tall frame took up almost the whole piece of furniture. “Come sit” He patted down on the space between his legs. Grabbing your arm, he helped you sit down between him, making yourself comfortable.

“Can you spread your legs, baby?” You nodded your head, propping one leg up on the head of the couch as you moved the other. His fingers found your pussy again, going in slow circles as he played with your left boob. “Feel good? What do you want?” You whined, wanting him to touch you anywhere.

“Feels so good, Steve. Just- just keep oh fuck” His movement quickened, pleasing your pussy perfectly. He inserted two fingers, making you jerk slightly. “Please, fuck- please keep doing that. I’m going to cum” you cried out. “I haven’t even touched you that long, baby. What’s got you this horny - huh?”

You didn’t reply, your eyes shut from the amount of pleasure. “I asked you a question” Steve said as he fingered you faster. “Fuck - you Steve, you!” You yelled. He smirked, quickening his pace. “You wanna cum? Cum on my fingers, baby.” He said lowly. Yes, yes, I wanna cum so bad” it didn’t take but a few minute later for you to do just that.

“Holy fuck, Steve” You breathed heavily. He helped you situate up on the couch, him leaning down to look at you. “If it weren’t so dangerous, I’d fuck the hell out of you right now” You whined at his response. “Steve, quit talking for christ sake and use your damn cock” He raised his eyebrows, hands on his hips. “Now y/n, you know that’s not how it works. But since you’re pregnant, I’ll be nice and let that slide. But don’t think I’ll forget about it”

“Lay down flat for me” You did as told, slowly but surely. You watched Steve untying his swim trunks, his cock sprung free as he pulled them down. Fuck, you couldn’t believe you were able to take Steve’s cock - long and thick. He crawled on top of you, positioning himself right at your cunt. “Fuck, I wish I could destroy you right now. You’re a god damn dream” Your heart fluttered, loving every comment he’d make about you being pregnant.

Steve pushed in slowly, both of you gasping at the sudden contact. His movements were slow as he planted kisses all along your body. Your lips, cheeks, neck, breasts. Your moans and gasps weren’t erotic. They were more of a making love sound. It was like music to both of y’alls ears. The feeling of your skin on each other - your warm bodies holding onto one another.

“I love you so much” Steve said with every slow thrust. “I love you too” Steve may have wanted to fuck you stupid, but times like these were one of his favorites.

“You okay? You’re doing so good baby” He said. “Fuck, I’m more than okay” His pace quickened but not too fast - enough that both of you were about to reach your first high. “I can’t believe I get to fuck this pussy. So perfect for my cock - you take me so well” That’s all it took for you to cum, Steve not far from you.

Even though Steve had to do all the work, he fucked you several times in that one sitting. He never did think he’d make you cum more than you did that day.

Let’s just say those sandwiches went to waste

#stranger things #smut #steve harrington #stranger things smut #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #dad steve harrington #stranger things blurb #steve harrington blurb

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neocentral · 5 months

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rating: 18+. mdni.

content: noncon, prostitution, jeno x reader, jaemin x reader

jeno is standing by the door. at least, that’s what he said he was going to do. you stopped believing him because it always seemed to take longer than it should for him to finally come to your rescue, but you still hope he is.

you imagine him standing under periodically flickering white lights that buzzed all the way down the corridor. in your head, he doesn’t even have his phone in his hand, he’s focused, standing guard and ready to react when things get too rough and violent. you know it isn’t hard to tell. the walls are paper thin and the building is almost always empty aside from one or two other couples engaging in the same business as you that always kept to themselves.

jeno tries to make up for it afterwards, flaunting stacks of cash he managed to make that night by letting you choose a single item to indulge in. it’s never an easy decision to make, having to think of something that wouldn’t anger him and risk not getting anything at all and a punishment when you finally made it back to his house. so, you always end up settling for a simple ice cream cone, hoping your favorite sugary childhood treat would distract you from the feel of your skin that always felt foreign afterwards, and soothe the ugly feelings that bubbled in your chest with no where to go, only doubling and making it feel heavier and heavier as time goes on.

but the reality is, jeno isn’t rushing to save you and you know that, only choosing to paint pictures in your mind to attempt to calm your nerves and avoid harsh reality of what you already knew.

jeno is especially happy when na jaemin comes around. your boyfriends smiles almost seem genuine when he comes to collect you long after jaemin has left just in case he wished to stay a little longer than arranged. he deserves it, jeno says, you know it’s because of the large tip he throws onto the bedside table, sometimes he throws it right at you, letting it fall onto your sweaty skin.

jaemin is angry today. the air surrounding him ice cold, his frustration laced within it, leaving a sour taste on your tongue. he wasted no time, foregoing his usual “playtime.” you were stunned, somehow the quick escalation unsettling you more than the long, drawn out game he usually played.

now, his hand is pressing on the side of your head, pushing your cheek deeper into the flat pillow that reeked of mildew. the mirror facing the bed caught your attention, jaemin’s strong arms bulging as he flexed, using more force than necessary to hold you where he wanted.

you felt gross, shuddering as you met your own eyes. you blinked quickly, vision blurring just as fast as it cleared, tears falling one after the other. jeno is standing by the door, you told yourself.

#tw noncon #tw prostitution #starring... jeno !#starring... jaemin !#screenplay…#[NEO] play…#jeno x reader #jeno smut #nct x reader #nct smut #jaemin x reader #jaemin smut #nct hard hours #dark nct #dark jaemin #dark jeno #nct #nct dream #jeno

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mitsies · 1 year

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HARBOUR ! ; reo mikage > some things can't be kissed better; some things can't be saved. this is a lesson reo has yet to learn. (hurt/comfort, angst-fluff, reo mikage x gn reader)

this is the 8th night in a row you have woken up alone.

your boyfriend's side of the bed is cold, as it has been for what feels like forever now. the sheets remain uncreased, and you might be imagining it but the divet in the overpriced mattress reo had purchased had begun to bounce back; another testament to his absence.

blearily rubbing at your eyes, you rise to a sitting position in your bed. your chest, though, feels heavy. a sinking sensation like dread hangs over your mind like a heavy mist. this sticky, sour mould has clung to you ever since you and reo had gotten into a particularly nasty argument.

the both of you have fought before. of course you have- most couples do, especially ones that have been together as long as the both of you have been. but this spat was long-winded and heavy, unlike the mere disturbances of any other past conflicts. this one left you feeling raw and empty like a carcass out to dry, and lonely in a way you don't think you've felt before. the both of you had said some harsh, personal things. things you wished you could take back, that you wished could be unsaid. cruel things.

days of tension and bitterness and refusal to look at each other (a game of chicken; how childish) had culminated in reo leaving the apartment you both shared without a word. he didn't text you— he hasn't since a few days after the initial conflict. the only indicator that he wasn't kidnapped or something similar was a few missing belongings- a toothbrush, some clothes, and various other amenities- all of which had vanished from the apartment. you had blinked at the cup that used to hold both of your toothbrushes. now it was just yours.

you hadn't cried when you'd seen it. in fact, you don't think you've cried throughout the whole ordeal, despite the immeasurable sadness and distress. your heart hurt, ached, but the dull roar of anguish which throbbed behind your ears was just that. background noise. the horrible normalcy of being alone again reduced you to less than tears. you don't think you could cry if you tried; there was just resignation now. resignation and a sharp pang— a stab in the gut—every time you happened upon a memory.

the apartment was littered with traces of the both of you— trophies with his name on them, photos of both of you grinning, the scent of his cologne that still hung fragrant in the air— you couldn't escape it. worst of all, you think, was a remnant of the day you'd first met: a receipt, pinned to the fridge with a magnet (an unfortunate placement because it meant you couldn't even get ice cream and wallow in peace without being reminded of that day).

it was sunny out, a scene still sealed in your mind despite it being years in the past. everyday you walked to the café on the corner of your street, which your friend ran. you’d order the same thing each morning: a hot tea and a fresh blueberry danish, a quick breakfast before heading off to your classes.

it was always quiet in the mornings with not too many people crowding the lobby as the staff cleaned and set up. usually, it was you and a few other regulars. today, though, you recognised a new face.

a handsome stranger with purple bangs that hung in his face, exempt from his updo, stood behind you in line to order. a simple black turtleneck and baggy jeans adorned his figure. he was handsome, you gauged, from your brief glance. you couldn’t really turn to get a better look without it being awkward, and it’s not like you had much time to take in his good looks as the cashier ushered you forward.

you ordered your usual— jasmine tea with a blueberry danish, please— and much to your horror, you realised that you’d forgotten your wallet. you had grimaced and waved your hand at the cashier with a oh, never mind, i’m sorry for the inconvenience, when a voice cut in.

it was an unfamiliar one; the deeper timbre and morning-induced rasp made you pivot to see the stranger who was in line behind you. he gave you a warm grin and you felt your stomach flip because he was even more attractive than you’d initially thought, and oh my god, you probably look broke as hell now.

but then he’d offered to pay for your order. at first you declined, not wishing to bother him but he’d insisted. you let him pay.

when the receipt was given— one jasmine tea, a blueberry danish, and a white flat mocha with 50% sugar— the stranger had asked for a pen. with it, he scribbled his name, one you’d never forget, on the back and his phone number with a dazzling smile (with a charming, boyish lilt that made you trip over your words) asked you to call him sometime.

you’d kept the receipt. it hung on your bedroom wall, and eventually, when you and reo had moved in together, it found its place on the fridge, pinned by a magnetic football. he’d laughed when he saw it— ‘you kept it? why?’ but he knew. he looked at you with a complete, utter infatuation, like you’d just told him the secrets of the world and how to fix all the issues on the planet. that way he looked at you was intoxicating. it was always so intense, too much but still not enough. it burned like fire against your skin, pleasantly warm and hot like a summer sun. you love how he looks at you. it hurt when he wouldn’t and it hurt even more when you realised that you might not feel that again. that burn, that fire.

your doorbell rings. you blink. there were no texts, so the chances that it was any of your friends was slim. a sharp tug pulls at your heartstrings— there was really only one person left it could be. you contemplated not answering, and maybe he’d eventually leave. but then the doorbell rang again, and again, and oh my god would he stop that?

more annoyed than disassociated and upset, you stand from the bedroom, still in your pajamas, and move to the door. reo mikage stands behind it, arms full with a brown paper bag and an expression that you could describe as nothing short of desperate painted across his face. he calls your name— and you slam the door on his face.

knocking ensues. so much knocking. he says your name again. and again. and you open the door with a glare because he needs to take the damn hint.

“let me in,” he breathes out upon seeing you, “please.”

you frown. you feel sick to your stomach— a mix of longing and unspoken hurt swirling in your chest like a bad coffee— but you stand your ground. “whatever you have to say, you can say it here. and quietly, please.”

he gives you a sheepish smile that drops instantly when he sees that you don’t return the nicety. “i know i fucked up. i know, i know. and i’m sorry, i’m so so sorry. i didn’t mean it. i said some awful things, and i want to fix it.”

a free hand is reached out, reaching out to you. you stare at it.

“please,” he is begging now, at this point, “let me fix this.”

you don’t even remember why this fight started to begin with. but the things that have been said— awful things that targeted your deepest insecurities and weaknesses— the things he has said are not to be glossed over.

you look at him and bite the inside of your cheek. his gaze, so focused on you, doesn’t make you feel special anymore. it makes you sick. the both of you have been together for 6 years. and now it was all ending here, with this. sad. pathetic, even. for the first time throughout the duration of the argument tears sting at your eyes. they hurt and you blink to try and get them to go away.

“i don’t want to forgive you,” you think you’re telling the truth but you’re not sure. your teeth sink into the inside of your lower lip. his hand drops back to his side and his eyes are red, you notice, with tears. reo’s cheeks are puffy.

“please,” he’s whispering now, mouthing the words before he says them like he’s trying to plan out what to do, or say next: how to best get you back, “please. i love you. you love me. you’re the only one for me— the only one. it can’t end like this.”

you feel dramatic as your teeth draw blood inside your mouth. this whole thing feels so silly— you’re just some person. he’s just some guy. you’re probably breaking up. and the world moves on. this all feels like too much. but you’re here now so you keep going:

"i don't really know, reo. i just wanted a life with you, i guess; a future. i wanted to marry you. but you— i don’t know,” because you really don’t, “it feels like we can’t fix this," because it really, really does.

his face tenses and it looks like he’s trying not to cry. the brown bag in his arm crinkles as he moves to take a step forward, pleading, begging. "please don't say that— don't change your mind. i can make it better, swear, i can.”

"if i were you reo, i wouldn't bother trying.” there is a despair. there is a hurt. there is a uncauterised, uncleared wound. there will be scars. (there will be scars but only if you let them heal, that is.)

"but you're worth trying for."

you inhale, air so sharp it cuts into your lungs like a knife. blood, air, cologne, blueberry danishes— the smells overwhelm you. you feel sick, but you feel right at home. you blink at reo. he looks at you.

you breathe in. and out, and in again. and you kiss him.

he tastes like he always does— a white flat mocha with 50% sugar and blueberry danishes— and his skin is soft, so soft, a familiar warmth that you knew you missed but didn’t realise just how much. he drops the bag but you don’t care, as you back him against the doorframe of the apartment. he kisses you back and it’s heavy and full like ripened fruit, unspoken promises. the both of you are swearing: to do better, to try harder, to stay together. there are so many things left to say and so many cuts left to scab over, but at least you will be fixing it all together.

everything feels so far in the past. why were you mad? what had he said again? you’re sure you’ll remember later but that can be dealt with then, not right now while he’s kissing you like you’re oxygen and you’re letting him.

then your sock lands in something wet. that’s when you break away, panting a little— oh. your sock is soaked with jasmine tea from a spilt container that had presumably been in the brown bag reo was carrying. you blink down at it with your hands around his neck. “tea?”

reo grins at you sheepishly. this time, you return his smile. “and a blueberry danish. which,” he trails off, glancing to where the pastry lies, blueberries-down on the apartment building hallway, “also didn’t make it.”

“you bought me my order?”

“yeah.. that was my final resort.”

you roll your eyes at him playfully as he stoops down to peel the soggy containers and deceased danish up off the floor. “shame. maybe i should break up with you for dropping my danish.”

he looks at you with a crooked grin. “i guess you and i’ll just have to go back there together to pick another one up, then.”

you bite your tongue out of sheer giddiness, a yellow sparkling of joy shining in your chest. the murky, grey fog had vanished into background; muted. you let your arm link around his, pretending like everything is okay because at some point, it will be. your heart still hurts but for now it’ll be okay.

“you’re paying.”

“anything for you.”

+ written for my lovely friend @earthtooz <3 happy birthday, i love you so much, and i hope you like this!

#reo mikage x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #mikage reo #mikage reo x reader #blue lock reo #reo x reader #mikage x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert

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