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satorubi · 1 year

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𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 - toji fushiguro

· ₊ ⊹ SYNOPSIS — toji knows just how to get back at your ex.

「❀」 pairing : toji fushiguro x black fem! reader

「❀」 content warning : minors do not interact ! dad’s bestfriend toji, age gap ꒰ toji is forty and reader is in her late twenties ꒱ missionary, fingering, use of the word bitch - during sex - just once, use of pet names such as ꒰ sweetheart, pretty, slut ꒱

「❀」 word count : 3.6K whoop whoop !!

「❀」 author’s note : hiii !!! here’s me re-uploading this edited version of tastiest revenge - apart of my friendship is magic series - bc tumblr took it down the first time :/ i wanted to put out the gojo fic first but due to school starting, i realized how busy i’ve become :0 please enjoy & interactions n reblogs are always loved <33

you were taken aback when toji answered your call. not only was the time 10:56 PM, but it was also the middle of the week. you ought to been fast asleep in your apartment by now, getting a good night's rest for whatever the world had in store for you tomorrow. but, alas, you were slouching on toji fushiguro's porch, your clothes drenched from the light rain and your makeup smeared from all the tears you'd let fall down your pretty face.

toji stands up from his recliner and looks around before hurriedly opening the door. his heart nearly bursts from your change in vigor. the hesitant, kindhearted disposition you always possessed seems to have been lost just about now; you have a slight pout on your face and stare up at him with imploring eyes.

he swiftly draws you into the warmth of his chest and shut the door behind him without you having to speak another word. his contact causes your body to tremble, and the rumble from his chest doesn't do you credit. all you could hear was him repeatedly mumbling phrases like ‘speak to me’ and ‘i’m right here.’

he allows you a brief minute to collect your thoughts as your nose started to run due to all the sniffling you'd been doing. as he goes into the kitchen, you take a seat on one of the three cushions, letting your head rest against the seat. toji could be seen pouring tea into a lovely glass mug out of the corner of your tearful eyes.

“you wanna’ tell me what brings you here?” he asks, settling into the couch and leaving you both with just enough space. you were completely silent. that bubbly, talkative spirit you usually had was much more comforting compared to the silence he was experiencing right now. you looked completely drained— almost as if someone had completely stripped you from your joy.

“im sorry, toji. i didn’t mean to impose l-like this,” you utter and he chuckles. he gathers the remote in his hand and turns the tv down, figuring you were ready to vent.

“it’s not a bother at all, yn. y’know that.”

you weakly smile, taking a sip of the warm liquid given to you. a deep sigh leaves your lips, “he cheated. like.. a lot.”

before you finished speaking, you could see toji clench his jaw. your former boyfriend, or ‘a fucking bastard,’ as toji used to describe him, was a dumbass. toji wasn't surprised when you discussed this matter, given that the kid was well known for his horrible reputation with the ladies at your uni. since the minute he shook his hand at your birthday all those months ago, he was able to tell that the youngster was a jackass.

the son of a bitch was disrespectful when toji first met him. he spoke of you as if you were merely an item on his arm or a tool at his disposal. he was a real asshole and a heartbreaker; he wasn't your typical old bum of a man, and toji could read him from a mile away.

the kid wore a smug look on his face, only a look of someone without pure intentions would have. he was playing you the entire time and it was easy to see from the eyes of someone who was once a player his damn self.

you see, toji was irritated by the notion that someone could be so foolish as to lose a woman like you. someone who was so understanding, determined to get what she wanted, clever, and humorous in response to everything said to her.

blind. he had to be blind is all.

“a video was posted of him today. he was kissing another girl at some party,” yet another stray tear fell from the brim of your eye and there toji was to wipe it away, “i’m such an idiot.”

no you aren’t.

“nah, he’s a dumbass, and i’ll be damned if i have to sit here and watch you cry over something that isn’t your fault.”

you take a tiny pause in an effort to contain the tears that were on the verge of escaping. of course, none of this was your fault, but for some reason, you felt that you had to bear some responsibility. you made a foolish decision by disobeying all the guidance you had been given, and as a result, you are again stuck with the consequences. given that your father and toji had warned you about the man from the start, you were surprised that he had the strength to even talk to you about it.

“i just- i just should’ve listened to you, that’s all.”

toji sighs, grabbing ahold of your hands and squeezing them gently, “it’s a bad time to say i told you so, so i’m just gonna’ say i’m glad that you’ve come to your senses. he was a dickhead.”

toji noticed you smiling for the first time tonight, so his clumsy joke must have succeeded. genuinely. after your brief burst of laughter, you kept your gaze fixed on toji’s flatscreen without saying a word. the house's four walls reverberated with the faint sound of a local broadcaster's voice as the two of you sat in quiet comfort.

he hopes he won't have to be the one to break the news by asking, “does your father know?” he despised doing things behind his back, but if you wanted him to, he could keep a secret. you admired that you could talk to toji about nearly anything, which was one of his best qualities. he wasn't patronizing or disciplining like your dad.

yes, you adored your old man dearly, but there are instances when hearing someone else's point of view than that of a parent can be quite beneficial. toji. would undoubtedly advise you of right and wrong, but he would never make you feel bad about yourself.

we’re human beings and we all make our fair share of mistakes.

by this time, you were no longer sobbing and you were getting a little bit closer to the man. his side profile is followed by your suckling eyes as you savor his sensitive features. even though you've known toji since you were in your early twenties, you've always thought he was gorgeous, but time has been kind to him. as excellent wine ages, so was he. hell, he probably tasted as delicious as he appeared—

toji starts, somewhat unexpectedly, “y'know, for what it's worth, i think you're an amazing woman." he fumbles with the silver chain dangling from his chest before saying, “you’re pretty, you're smart, and you make a mean pho.”

pretty. he called you pretty.

toji’s solemn face prompts you to hastily cover your smile as he adds, “you didn't deserve to be treated that way- and i hope you know that.” you could feel a hand gently caressing your arm. his calluses brushed against your skin as he held it in a warm, rough manner. the gesture almost made you want to pant like a bitch in the heat, even if you had no idea why or how.

he murmurs, “i don't ever wanna' see you cry like that again,” as his dark irises finally contact yours and you two exchange a soft look. unknown to you at the time, something was causing you to approach a little bit more closely than you had intended. you long for a kiss as your gaze moves from his lips to his eyes and back again.

as you prepare to make what would likely be one of your biggest mistakes yet, you close your eyes. you decrease the distance between you two to just a few inches by placing your lips on his. toji ought to have pushed you away at the first moment, but he was driven to submit. the way your mouth felt against his was just so effortlessly natural.

perhaps the novelty of being alone or the warmth of his body against yours is responsible for you feeling this way right now, but all you want is to continue feeling him like this forever.

toji grabs the nape of your neck while you moan into the kiss, luring you in. you take the initiative to straddle his lap as you start to feel a pool between your thighs, your covered pussy pressing on his crotch as you exchanged saliva.

to your surprise, toji pulls away when you ask for more by licking his bottom lip. even before returning to reality, you managed to feel the remorse beginning to rise in your stomach.

“m’ sorry. i don’t- i don’t know what i was thinking,” you mumble, quickly climbing off of his lap and back into your previous position. “i’m sorry. fuck- i’m sorry. i shouldn’t- we shouldn’t-“ you go on, but all that came out of your apology was a weak, anxious whine. toji simply sits there, likely attempting to process what just happened.

you were scared, but you were also humiliated. toji was not only your father's closest friend, but also his business partner. this could endanger his friendships, family, and profession.

you can't bring yourself to say anything else. you start to gather your things and get ready to go to the door, but just as you stand up, a hand delicately grabs hold of your wrist.

“you want me?”

yes.

“toji- i didn’t mean to-“

“yes or no?”

as you swallow, your chest rises and falls from the kiss's delirium. toji manspreads while keeping his hands on his lap and waiting for your response, tapping his foot on floor. he did have an issue with staring. his eyes gave off the impression that they would cut straight through you.

you say, "y-yes," but it sounds more like a moan. when toji hears this, he gets up from his chair and approaches you slowly. his hands were in the pockets of his gray sweats, and he had a smirk on his face. he continues moving until he is directly in front of you, his shirt showing his hardened nipples.

“say it with your chest, yn. did you not just kiss me? or was i imagining things?”

his taunting tone of voice not only annoyed you, but it turned you on too. he tilts his head to the side and looks you up and down, eyes following your curves, “toji, i want you.”

that was all he needed until it was his turn to attack your mouth with pecks. pecks turned into drawn out kisses and those eventually escalated to biting and sucking on one another’s lips. your noses chafed together as toji groans into your mouth. while your tongues danced to the rhythm of desire, toji’s hand came between your pants and the waistband of your pink panties. he shoves his palm inside the lousy fabric to cup your cunt in his hand.

he flicks his middle finger at your folds as you whimper, "want more, please." he can feel your lust on the tip of his knuckle. “i need you,” your nails skim the happy trail under his shirt, causing toji to grunt. the poor guy had no idea how much power you had over him.

“are you gonna’ regret it?” you ask, and yes, it was blunt of you, but you wondered if he was truly aware of the consequences of this action. you had to think of it from his perspective too.

toji was currently obtaining a happy life. he lived a peaceful existence with just him and his son and had a profession that was more than well compensated, but you? you were a grown woman—twenty eight, to be precise—and although you may have acted impulsively, it may have been just what you wanted. but want eventually turns to greed, and you’d hate to do damage to his conscious over your behavior.

“why would i regret you?”

you wanted to spend the evening lusting over his wonderful words— hearing him tell you the sweetest things, but no matter how sincere and charming his question was, your thoughts were elsewhere.

toji and you each had the ability to choose your own paths. everything you've done up to this point has been deemed inappropriate, and even if he were to stuff you full of his cock, it wouldn't matter. this was already out of line as is.

you make the decision to take matters into your own hands and carry on the passionate makeout session by encircling his neck with your arms. you can feel toji's hands pinching your ass cheeks as he begins to cup them to enfold you in his arms. he sits down on the sofa with you still in his grasp, allowing you to straddle his lap as before.

the hard cock sitting pretty in his sweats did nothing but rub up against you. as much as you wanted to take it slow, you couldn’t suppress the urge to let him have his way with you.

“‘ima fuck you so good, princess. so much better than he ever has,” he utters. you lift your hips up to give him room to finally take his aching cock out of his sweats. while doing so, he doesn’t dare take his eyes off of you.

"look at what you do to me, love," to put it mildly, you were in wonder as he grabbed hold of your chin and lowered your head between you both. first the middle, then the base was displayed. the thin pubic hairs that were still attached to his skin were somewhat cut, lying flat against his shaft as the tip of him flashed a brilliant pink.

as his cock stood up, toji flexed his lower abdomen to move it a little. each time he did this, his cock tapped against your belly, creating a pat.

“big huh? it’ll fit, don’t worry,” he ends his sentence with a wink and grasps on to your ass cheeks again, this time, parting them slowly. as you lift up, his cock aligns with your hole, leaking and eager for some attention.

“please be careful. it’s been a while,” you mumble. you turn to look away but he only comforts you, “i will. i promise.”

as toji entered you, your pussy revealed how horny you truly were. your sopping cunt slobbered around him inch by inch, little by little. your juices had covered his cock and made it easier for your walls to expand, adjusting to his size.

the burn causes your mouth to hiss. feeling him wriggle his way in like this made you feel like a virgin all over again. he had the kind of dick you had to mentally prepare yourself for; the kind that, after only two or more minutes, would have you crying and trembling in his hands.

“focus, yn. just focus on us, for right now.” he didn’t have to tell you twice. how could you not focus on just this? toji had your head spinning and your insides bubbling like never before. it’d be hard to think of anything or anyone else other than him, “you’re so deep- shit!” mushing your ass in his hands, he lifts you up and down his cock, making you feel each and every bit of him. toji bites back a moan when you start to become more comfortable— hips moving with his and your ass melting in his palms.

arms incoherently wrap around toji’s neck as he digs deep, moaning into your ear, “you don’t understand how good you feel. can i go faster? wanna’ make you cum all over my lap like the good girl i know you are.” you practically scream yes and immediately after, you hear a clapping sound.

your ass slamming against toji’s thighs was the cause of the ruckus, you realize as you turn to face the source of the noise. as you watch toji’s cock slip in and out of your pussy, he raises his head to stare at the side of your face, getting excited at how hard you clenched down in him as you watched him fuck you vigorously.

“look at how good you’re doing. takin’ that dick like it’s yours. you look so pretty like this.”

his encouraging words appeared to have given you self-assurance. using both of your forces to fill yourself, you start to slam down on him. you felt as though you were handling a lot at once, but you hardly cared enough to flee. god, did it feel wonderful to be taking dick like a pro.

“ooo- it's stretching me, toji! feels so fuckin’ good. i love it so much.” one thing toji picked up from this was how much of a screamer you were. every thrust ended with another high-pitched moan grumbling from your chest.

“you’re a loud lil’ thing, aren’t you? hope the neighbors don’t mind too much, but they’ll understand, right? i’m fuckin’ you so well they’ll have no choice but to understand.”

it was so easy for him to utter such derogatory phrases knowing the conditions his life would be in after— but he felt like he was compelled to. he loved the sensation of listening to your pussy becoming wetter with each passing stroke. incredibly responsive— his favorite.

his thoughts began to flow as a result of your hands grabbing at his shoulders. you were so desperate that you were delighted to accept whatever he was putting down, “i can’t believe mr. ln’s daughter is such a dirty little bitch. how do you think he’d feel knowin’ i’m ruining you like this, hm?”

that was when you came. something about the secrecy just made you all the more ablazed. although this might’ve been just a temporary feeling, you clamored for more— hollering his name and the curses that trailed behind it.

“m’ cumming! m’ cumming- fuck me, toji!”

he laughs, “how good is it, slut? tell me, how’s it feel?”

you could barely produce a single sound. you could only hold your mouth ajar and let out broken whines. your body was drowning in a sheen coat of sweat and your pussy was a bit sore, but you wanted to cum again.

“it feels a-amazingh,” you babble, unable to even utter the pronunciation of your words as he continues to poke at your g-spot. he was fucking you through it, talking you through it, and pulling you right into his grasp to swallow your whines with his mouth.

after he wrung out the last of your juices, he quickly lifts you up and places you on your back. he could now see just how pretty your pussy truly was. two plumped folds sitting on either side of a puffy clit that was in need of some sucking and a cute hole that ached for good dick.

a dream. a dream indeed.

toji wasted no time slipping it in, feeling your walls comfort his cock like a warm hug. every stroke was tender, but he was so slutty. the chain dangling from his neck beamed in your face and out of instinct, you tug on it a little to pull him down. taking a second to indulge in his features. he was so fucking sexy, especially like this— jet black hair sticking to his forehead, muscle tee drenched in sweat, and his small, hidden whines slipping in every now and then. you couldn’t believe you hadn’t done this sooner.

“i-i love this. love your dick so much- makes m-me feel so happy, toji.” now it was your turn to make your words dig deep, bringing him to the checkpoint with just a few praises.

“don’t say shit like that- fuck.”

you bring your hands to his face to cup his cheeks. you gently press your forehead against his and continue whispering sweet nothings against his lips.

“i can’t believe you’re fucking me like this— like you’ve wanted me for so long. you must love this pussy, huh? love when i take you like this?”

you take note of his sudden shudder, his strokes slowly becoming harder as his breath hitches near your ear, “yn, you better fuckin’ stop.”

“i can’t help it, toji. you just fuck me so much better,” you gasp and reached your arms around his neck, burying your head in his neck. you clench around him, and toji nearly loses it. the knot was finally beginning to unravel, his stomach was fluttering, and he was a bit tired, but he was so close— and you were too, again.

“where do you want me, sweet girl? i’m gonna’ to cum,” he asks, and you answer with a stream of yeses and ‘inside inside’. on command, you feel the wave of toji’s cum filling you full. your pussy wet him up with yet another orgasm and you practically collapse.

toji continues to fuck you through your climax, as well as his own. he was being nothing but dirty, yet a hint of weet. whispering things like ‘good girl’ and ‘i’m so proud of you’ over and over. your head was empty and so was your energy scale. you wanted nothing more than a nice soak in a warm bath to attend to your sore figure.

toji pulls out of you, leaving a airy noise being him when he does. his dick was coated in white, and he was still hard as you were wet, but you were both far too exhausted to give it another go.

he sees some of his cum dripping from your pussy and scoops it onto his index finger. lifting that same hand to your mouth, your lips immediately part to taste the mess the two of you made, “revenge tastes sweet doesn’t it?” he asks as you suck on his fingers until completely clean, letting out a moan while doing so.

as he stands to his full height, he stares down at your limp limbs and shakes his head in disbelief, “i didn’t kill ya’ did i?” he breathlessly laughs. you weakly smile and flip him off as he heads down the hall.

eventually toji returns, watching quietly as your lashes kiss your cheeks with exhaustion. still under a trance, he takes a towel he’d gotten from the bathroom to smooth your back and thighs, making sure to get between them as well. as he finishes, you could feel a delicate kiss being planted behind your ear.

his act as a caretaker drove you into a deep sleep, and he was left to reflect on what took place night. he might be jobless, and friendless in morning, but for right now, he’d rather fall asleep to the sound of your breaths as you lay your head on his chest— dreaming of the life you deserve.

©️ SATORUBI 2023 please do not copy, repost as your own, or translate any of my work without my knowledge <33

#⇉☆*̣̥⁄⁄ 𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐬 #toji x female reader #toji x black reader #anime x black!reader #anime x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jjk smut #toji smut #toji fushiguro

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dragonagecompanions · 9 months

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Why do you think Varric made the Inquisitor a Comte? Wouldn’t that make them outrank him? Dumar seemed pretty powerless and I always thought that Varric got shoved in the rule to make him in charge of the recovery of Kirkwall but not actually of Kirkwall?

Sweet gentle anon, I know it was not your intention but you have stumbled into one of my favorite conversational topics and I hope you are ready for the fall out.

Welcome, children, to Fereldone talks about Thedas' Geo/Theopolitical bullshit!

(tl:dr at the bottom)

So, very important things to know going in: Kirkwall's political history is weird. Founded by the Tevinter Imperium in -620 Ancient (which is DA equivalent of BC/BCE, or the time before the ages ascribed to history by the chantry), it was a mining city. After a slave tried to kill the Archon the Magisterium decided they needed to start importing- and presumably breaking the will of- slaves farther from the heart of the imperium and thus the City of Chains gained purpose.

I could throw a lot of facts and names at you, but here's the basics-- it housed millions of slaves over hundreds of years, at the end of the ancient age they rebelled and overthrew it. Kirk means black in Alamarri, the stone they mined there was jet black, and so Kirkwall (black walls) becomes a Free city. It suffered during the fourth blight in the Exalted Age (fifth age, for those keeping score at home), was conquered by the Qunari in the Storm Age (seventh age) and was then conquered by the Orlesians. Orlais was on a roll with the whole 'we own everything whoops killed your ancestral leaders', but in the Blessed age (eighth age) the people retaliate and overthrow the empire to regain independence.

For reasons I can only assume are laziness and a desire not to change all the paperwork, the leader of Kirkwall is still referred to by the Orlesian word Viscount/Viscomte. Bear with me, this is important later.

We are now in the early dragon age (9th age, and when Inquisition happens). The first two rulers of free Kirkwall sucked. Basically they blockaded their own port and made people pay a fortune to get in and trade. This didn't sit well with the Chantry, who would much rather do that themselves, and in 9:14 Divine Beatrix II (later saved by Cassandra!) tells the Templars to strong arm him into submission talk some sense into the viscount.

The knight commander is killed in the exchange, and so his second command Meredith Stannard steps up to try her hand at negotiations. It goes poorly, so she arrests and jails the Viscount and essentially takes control of the city with full Chantry approval. Now the Templars are essentially in control of the city, and so they appoint a puppet leader (Dumar) to play act in control. But Meredith is actually in charge, and everyone knows it.

Including Elthina, who named her Knight Commander. This is why the Chantry never actually does anything about templar abuses.

So! If you are still with me, this is where Viscount becomes important. There are some wibbly bits about how you treat Sebastian Vael in DA2, but essentially Kirkwall decides that it's time to be an actual city state and not a poorly run Theocracy. As the only man with a plan (and the money and influence to do it), Varric steps in to help his home town. Ecstatic at not being responsible for that, the nobles (comtes) band together and put him in charge.

So while yes, in Orlais Viscount be beneath comte, Kirkwall has been so broken up and conquered and messed with over the years that names and titles are meaningless. In my personal opinion, Varric ennobles the inquisitor so that they will always have a staunch ally amongst the backbiting Kirkwaller nobles. It's also a nice and generous a decent thing to do, of course, but Varric is very good at making something do a lot of things for him all at once.

(Also, Varric knows exactly what that key does. He just ensured that someone smart enough and invested enough in peace will always be able to either open or close the harbor--making sure that the people who depend on him will be safe no matter what.)

Personally, the Trespasser epilouge is useless. It's the result of not having a head writer to review things, and the sweet but misguided attempt to give us closure if DA4 never happened. Hawke doesn't come back to Kirkwall. They are in Weisshaupt (if not in the Fade), and that plotIine will likely be in the final game. The Inquisition in whatever form it still has will be heading north, possibly with Kirkwall as an operating base, and this way the Inquisitor (who is confirmed to not be playabe in DA4) will have a reason to be there and not in Tevinter.

That's my read, anyway.

tl;dr Kirkwall has weird history that led to odd ways of organizing their nobility, Varric wants friends in places almost as high as him, shit's going down in the north and I think the inquisitor will be in Kirkwall so the writers needed a reason to put them there.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

Mod Fereldone

#not a reaction #kirkwall #mod fereldone talks Thedas #this shit is weird: geopolitical discussion #varric is clever like a fox #i really hate his writing in trespasser and so this is how I retcon it #dragon age inquisition #trespasser #dragon age dreadwolf #tevinter imperium #dragon age 2 #hawke #meredith stannard #fuck the chantry for real though

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bakubunny · 8 months

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katsuki is a tease bc he knows he’s right (kacchako excerpt)

Ochako’s phone buzzed in her pocket as a text came in.

gj cheeks

you kept your mouth shut for a whole week i think thats a new record for you

Ochako took off her shoes at the front door as she read the text, face growing hot. She had been much more careful now than she had since the day Katsuki came over and helped her get off to avoid this specific kind of conversation. Mostly because it felt embarrassing, and even worse, because it was him and she didn’t want to think about that. Yet here she was.

Fuck you, jerkface.

you want to and you know it

🤢🤮

HAH thats not what the look on your face said you were ready to fucking beg me for it admit it

That was entirely beside the point. She was just horny, it happened. Nothing more. She definitely still wasn’t thinking about him a week later. Wasn’t distracted every time he said her name. Definitely never blushed every time she felt his eyes on her or saw his brow raise at something she said. None of it.

No. I don’t beg. I’m not a dog.

im sure i can change that be a good girl and bark for me 😏🐶

How do you manage to turn everything I say into something repulsive? I don’t know what you misunderstood, but that was a one time thing. Jerk off to your wet dreams or smth, I’m busy.

keep telling yourself that i know you think about me at night

Go get laid, jeeze.

what do you think im trying to do now?

Annoy me.

well when you change your mind you lmk in the meantime ill be stroking the fat dick you were drooling over 😘

I don’t need to know that. You’re so gross.

A picture came through. Ochako opened it. Her eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed red. It was Katsuki from the chest down, shirtless in bed, gripping his hard dick through sweatpants. Immediately, her mind rushed to the many vivid thoughts and memories that wouldn’t leave her head when she was alone.

whoops

Katsuki fuck off, holy shit. 😳😅

yeah thats what i thought

Ochako turned on the shower and was getting a clean set of clothes when her phone vibrated again. This time it was a short clip of Katsuki slowly stroking himself through the fabric of his sweats as he groaned heavily. The thick, swollen tip of his cock twitched and barely peeked out of the waistband. Ochako felt heat rush and pool between her thighs as a shiver slipped down her spine.

have fun angel face 😘

“I will, but you certainly don’t need to know that,” she said quietly, closing the bathroom door behind her.

#this lives rent free in my head #i have to finish this #bakugou is kind of an asshole but i fucking love him okay #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero #bakugou katsuki #millennialmagicalgirl #bakugou x uraraka #kacchako #uraraka ochako #bnha smut #mha smut

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iwaizumis-bitch · 2 years

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boss!osamu headcanons

pairing; boss!osamu x female!worker reader

content warnings; this is japan mf so right hand driving, osamu is a bit of a reckless driver (oops), brief workplace harrassment, osamu is in his late 20’s, reader in her early 20’s, no smut but this is a nsfw blog so MDNI, osamu uses kansai dialect bc i said so (and he’s from hyōgo), it keeps changing pov whoops, i hope this is good!!!!!!!!

word count; 1,390

authors notes; oops this has been in my drafts for a while, MIGHT make a part two if enough people like this. reblogs are very appreciated <3

boss!osamu who looks to be in his late twenties, always greets you with a warm, tight lipped smile when you enter the kitchen through the back door on a weekday morning.

boss!osamu who wears solely fitted black tee’s, showing off his broad chest and muscular arms as he wraps the onigiris, his tongue poking out between his lips in concentration.

boss!osamu who rests his hands on his lower back as he leans back, stretching his back as a strangled groan leaves his lips at the relief which floods through his veins.

boss!osamu who wears black sweaters in the winter, but rolls his sleeves up to his elbows ten minutes into folding the nori over the rice triangles, exposing his defined forearms to all wandering eyes.

boss!osamu who has two silver cuffs around his upper helix, making sure they never get caught when he pulls his cap on his head. they glimmer in the light during autumn afternoons when the restaurant isn’t as busy and he’s able to sit at the register.

boss!osamu who tells you to just call him osamu one late shift a few months after you started working, as if you’d ever have to nerve to call him by his first name.

boss!osamu who watches you on with a fond grin on his face, admiring how you flitted around the kitchen to prepare the customer’s order which you’d just taken.

boss!osamu who saunters out front when he hears a loud voice complaining to speak to the owner, only to find you with an embarrassed look on your face and tears welling up in your eyes as you tried to explain why the coupon wasn’t valid to the angry man.

boss!osamu who calmly steps beside you, placing a reassuring hand on your waist as he tells you to ‘step back into the staffroom, i’ll deal with this’, in a low murmur, watching as you scurry off.

boss!osamu who comes and joins you a few minutes later, apologising that you had to deal with that, offering you a pack of tissues from his apron pocket to wipe away your tears and sniffles.

boss!osamu who tries to comfort you, failing awkwardly as he comes to the realization of how fucking pretty you look with rosy red cheeks and tears spilling from your lash line.

boss!osamu who tells you he'll give you a ride home, immediately shutting you down when you mention that you could just walk the 20 minute trek, telling you, ''my ma' taught me better than to let a pretty lady walk alone at night''.

boss!osamu who leaves one of his trusted senior chefs with the task of shutting down the kitchen, ushering you out back to the employee's parking lot, letting you step out first as his eyes flicker down to your ass, adorned by tight black denim jeans.

boss!osamu who pulls his car keys out of his pocket, unlocking the rolls-royce cullinan black badge in the corner of the carpark.

boss!osamu who opens the passenger door for you like it’s not a car worth at least 800,000 dollars, allowing you to sit on the cushiony leather seat with your small backpack on your lap.

boss!osamu who steps into the drivers side on the right, pulling his cap off of his head and throwing it somewhere at the back. he throws you a comforting grin as he starts the car up, pulling his seatbelt on and asking you ‘where‘ya located?’, in his thick country accent.

boss!osamu who doesn’t notice that you’re too flustered to answer, rather staring at his side profile as he reaches his arm behind your seat to get a view behind him. he reverses out of the parking spot, using the palm of his right hand to spin the wheel around, neck craning at an obscene angle as the car straightens up.

boss!osamu who chuckles at your hurried ‘huh?’, as you snap back into attention, thighs now squeezed together. he repeats himself, this time making eye contact with you.

‘um, it’s the apartment complex just behind the old skatepark, if you know where that is’, you say, turning to face forward as soon as the words leave your mouth.

osamu only nods in response, pulling his car out of the small car park and into the direction of your apartment.

you fiddle with your nails as a soft song you recognise as softcore by the neighbourhood plays in the background.

'i'm sorry 'bout the dickhead back there', osamu utters apologetically, his thick kansai accent slipping out.

'it's alright', you mutter, eyes flitting up to meet his for a second in the dashboard as you swallow nervously.

you can tell osamu wants to jab further, but he only bites his tongue and breathes out sharply.

your head feels dizzy as you continue to subtly check him out. the scent of his rich cologne is so strong against your tastebuds, and you can see the prominent vein on his jugular where he'd undoubtedly spritzed the opulent spray earlier in the day.

you couldn't wait to get home and gossip to your roommate about how unbelievably hot he was. at the thought of her, you quickly remembered how she must have been waiting for you outside of onigiri miya.

'shit', you muttered under your breath, quickly grabbing your phone from the front of the messenger bag and opening your text messages with her.

osamu raised a brow at your foul language, letting it slide when he sees the panicked look on your face.

'you alright?', he asks, eyes gazing to his left for a few moments to watch you desperately tap at your phone.

'yeah', you mumble out, furiously typing a frantic apology message to your friend. ‘just forget to tell my ride she doesn’t have to pick me up’.

osamu let’s out a short ‘ah’ in acknowledgement, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from you.

he’s never seen you your hair down, you obviously have to have it up for sanitary reasons in the kitchen but god, how he wanted to reach over and tuck it behind your ear just to see your flustered reaction.

the song on the radio switches to clocks by coldplay as he rounds the corner to your apartment building, tapping his fingers against the wheel to the catchy melody.

a small wave of disappointment washes over him as your apartment block comes into view, realising his alone time with you is almost. the metaphorical hourglass in his mind is almost full of sand at the bottom, and he wants to do something about it.

‘thank you for the ride home, boss’, you thank him, unclipping your seatbelt. ‘i really appreciate it’, you smile, at him briefly, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

‘could i get ya number?’

the words leave osamu’s mouth before he can fathom what he’s actually asking you for.

you pause your movements, heart bouncing around your chest as you turn to face him.

‘just in case, yanno? can’t have my best employee in any trouble’, he musters up as an excuse, face feeling hot. for gods sake, he was 28 and felt like he was 16 asking a girl out for the first time again.

‘yeah, sure’, you say, voice shaky as he hands you his phone. you quickly type in your phone number, leaving the contact name up to him.

he smiles gratefully as you hand it back, saving the number and tucking it back into his pocket.

‘so i’ll see ya tomorrow?’, he confirms, turning the dial on the radio down.

you open the car door, swinging your legs out of the vehicle as your turn back. ‘definitely. thanks again for the ride, boss’, you duck your head bashfully, stepping out of the car and giving him a small wave.

he waves back, driving off slowly as you step into the small foyer of your apartment entrance.

he doesn’t drive far, only pulling over down the side of the street, pulling his phone back out. the digits of your phone number burn through his corneas as he types out a quick message, adam’s apple bobbing.

‘you can call me osamu. boss is too formal. goodnight x’.

if only he could hear the small squeal of excitement you’d let out, standing in the elevator of the apartment block down the street.

#haikyuu x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya #haikyuu x you #osamu x you #female reader

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scekrex · 3 months

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I know you've wrote that you got a bit of a writer's block, but I've got an idea for you for later on when you're up in power of creativity.

So, I just woke up from, I'm not sure, a night terror, maybe (might be the hallucinations that are getting to me after yesterday, wooohoo, vicious cycle of not sleeping), and it might sound absolutely weird, but it got me thinking and I came up with an idea for a prompt where the reader gets a night terror, maybe something related to his family before he died like his godson or goddaughter are being tormented by some invisible force in a pram, the reader walks over to it wanting to release the kiddo. When he does, the child does what every kid likes to do which is sort of climbing when you get them into your arms, they like to completely change their arms position and try to get on top of your head, so the kid does that and the reader could feel like a sharp pinch on the back of his neck. The child suddenly dissappeared and he cupped the place where he felt the pain before suddenly waking up in cold sweat to Adam trying to calm him down to the best of his, we all know not the best, abilities, but he's trying! So a cookie for him. They just simply cuddle in silence until everything is fine and it's completely up to you if you want to make the reader talk about whatever happened in his night terror or not. I'm just feeling like some angst with a happy ending, cause jesuuus that nightmare/night terror/sleep hallucination was foking wild 💀

That's how I looked after I woke up, srs

No more writers block, bitches, ur boy's back at it again whoop whoop, (where's my fucking hype train huh??/jk) I also hope you slept better this time <3

Night Terrors

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, night terrors (I guess)

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Screams and cries of a little child filled your ears and once you were able to focus on your surroundings, your eyes caught your adorable little goddaughter who was sitting in her pram.

She was screaming, crying out your name as she seemed to hit something invisible to your eyes, she was desperately trying to get whatever it was off of her but still being so small she had no chance. Her face was red and her lungs must have hurt by how loudly she's been screaming, tears were running down her cheeks as she tried to get out of her pram - to no success.

You walked over to her, not quite understanding what was wrong with her - what was wrong with the situation. You had goosebumps all over your body and it was only then that you noticed you were shaking. Where that feeling came from you didn't know but what you did know was that you had to get to your goddaughter. The poor little thing needed to calm down, her body must have been exhausted already and she was still putting up a fight.

“Hey there, little princess,” your words sounded unreal in your own ears, as if they were muffled by cotton, but you continued talking to her as you reached to pick her up, “Now, now, pumpkin, I’m here now, you don't need to be afraid anymore.” The little girl looked at you with curious eyes as she made grabby hands at you. You finally lifted her out of her pram and rested her on your hip with one arm wrapped around her body, the other supporting her head. “See?” you smiled softly at the little girl. “You’re all safe now, I won't let anything happen to you, pumpkin,” you assured the little human as you wiped her tears from her cheeks.

She, however, seemed to have different plans, because while she did stop to scream and she did stop to kick around, she was now climbing up your body - with your hands supporting her obviously. “Whatcha doing?” you asked, irritated by her behavior. She had done that before, it was simply what toddlers did, but she never went further than your shoulder. This time though, she covered your face with her small body as she wrapped her arms and legs around your head tightly.

You tried to pull her away, tried to get the child off of you but to no avail. You called out for help, somebody, anybody, but neither were your calls answered nor did someone step in. She was making it hard for you to breathe and then you felt a sharp pain going through your body, its origin at your neck where your goddaughter’s little hands and mouth had just been, causing you to scream at the top of your lungs. What the fuck was that? Had the little girl bit you? You weren't sure, to be completely honest, you didn't know what was going on entirely.

Suddenly the weight of the child disappeared and when you tried to grab the body that had just been on top of your head, there was nothing but air, nothing unusual and most importantly not your goddaughter. Your hand moved to your neck instead, where the pain came from and once your hand touched the area, your eyes shot open and your body was sitting upright on a soft mattress.

Your heart was pumping fast, so fast that if you were still alive you surely would've had a stroke. Sweat was covering your entire body which caused you to shiver violently, you didn't know if it was because you were actually cold or because of the panic that was still screaming inside you.

Then there were hands on your body, one big, warm and so familiar feeling hand was located on your shoulder, the other cupped your cheek softly. Your head snapped to the side where a warm body was pressed against you and with wide eyes you looked at your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

The fog that had made it hard to see your surroundings disappeared and all of a sudden your mind was clear again, silent, but clear.

Adam was holding you, your head was resting against his chest and the tip of his feathers gently caressed your arm, his heartbeat was normal, calm even and it helped you to calm down as well. Your eyes that had been wide open only seconds ago were falling shut and you leaned into the warmth the brunette offered you. “There you are, babes,” he mumbled with his face buried in your hair, visibly relieved about that fact. “Thought you were dying,” you knew just as much as him that you wouldn't die that easily but it gave you some kind of fuzzy feeling to think that, to pretend that you could've died, to pretend that you were still human. Just for the moment.

“No I-” you interrupted yourself. You wanted to explain to him what had happened, that you hadn't been dying. But the words never left your lips, instead you simply shook your head and repeated, “No.” Adam placed a kiss on your head, “Good.”

That was a thing about Adam that you adored, well one of the many things. He never pressured you to talk, he always gave you time and space if needed, even if it was hard for the both of you to understand and handle. So you silently cuddled up against him, your arms were wrapped around his hips and your face was buried in his chest as you listened to his heartbeat. Oh his heartbeat, one of the few things in heaven that were able to calm you down in an instant. His calm breathing helped you too and you breathed with him in order to calm your body down.

“Sorry for waking you,” you mumbled against his skin, pressing your face even closer to his chest in embarrassment. “Shut up, babes,” he simply said. You knew he meant ‘It doesn't matter as long as you're safe and well’ and ‘I love you, stop apologizing for such nonsense’. So you did. You did shut up and continued to listen to his body, in the distance you heard a couple of birds singing but that was quickly tuned out by Adam who was humming something - probably one of the countless songs he and his band had written. But you enjoyed it, enjoyed him humming to you, him giving you the comfort you needed without questioning it.

Soon he slowly laid back down, pulling you down with him. Your head was still resting on his chest - your entire body was laying on top of him. “Try to catch some sleep babes, whatever fucked up demon was haunting you, I'll fight that bastard off for you if he tries again.” You chuckled softly at that but gave a quiet hum in agreement. You felt how his wings came up to wrap around your body to underline his words, he'd protect you.

He always did.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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phopollo · 3 days

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*getting on my hands and knees* Please I would love to know more about your fairytail rewrite, I have also just decided to do a rewatch of it and I am dying for more content/more people to talk about it with (also i love your designs so far and especially the focus on my girl Juvia... would love to know your ideas for both ex phantom lord guys actually)

AKFNWKG OMG HI YOU DONT UNDERSTAND HOW HAPPY THIS MAKES ME

GAJEEL & JUVIA MEAN SO MUCH TO ME, BOTH INDIVIDUALLY AND AS A DUO, AND I WAS SO SAD ABOUT HOW THEYRE TREATED IN CANON (especially Juvia,,, she was my favorite, but she got done so dirty when they stopped allowing her to he her own character outside of loving Gray,,,) SO IM ELATED YOU WANNA KNOW MORE ABOUT THEM, BECAUSE I THINK ABOUT THEM SO MUCH

So!!

I'll start with them as a duo

While members of Phantom Lord, none of the Element 4 were really like.... friends per say, but Gajeel and Juvia had the closest thing to being like........ friendly coworkers of all the relationships among them. Juvia was kind of the only one Gajeel really respected, and Juvia recognized thar Gajeel treated her with as much respect as he could, so she reciprocated (think like,,, verbally acknowledging each other as they passed in the halls, but calling each other by last name)

After joining Fairy Tail, in the immediate aftermath, everyone was still a little cautious of them for understandable reasons. So they kind if unintentionally cling to each other, because..... yknow. They're the only ones not giving each other the side eye, so it doesn't feel like they have to claw through a wall of tension to just hold a simple conversation

The turning point for them into actual friendship is when people start to give them more of a chance! In particular, on a day that Fairy Tail is getting A Bit Rowdy(tm) in the guild hall, and Gajeel turns around, expecting Juvia to have his back, and shes.... she's not there........... and now that he thinks about it, it's been a bit rainy today............... so he gets a little worried and goes looking for her, only to find her hiding in the bathroom because she got a bit overwhelmed and overstimulated because she's never had so many people approach and try to talk to her all at once and never been involved in a brawl like that that wasn't an actual like, fight, and she just...... she needs a minute. So. Gajeel sits with her a bit, because. Yknow. It wouldn't be worth it to go out there and pick fights with everyone and have fun if she's not also going to. It's just not as fun

They get a little awkward sitting there in silence and Gajeel gets antsy. He looks at himself in the mirror, and then down at Juvia and her perfectly styled hair. He goes "Hey wanna help me wash my hair?" And she kind of. Stares at him for a few seconds.

(Bonus doodles of when I was initially thinking about this but never planned to post bc my hand writing is ILLEGIBLE)

So Gajeel takes care of his hair now (very important about him and his character and the change in his hair style between Phantom Lord and Fairy Tail)

And after that, they accidentally become Natsu-And-Lucy-But-Cool-Tones

And they're very silly, and I love them very much

Whoops, that on its own was a little longer than I intended, but I'll still go into them individually too

Gajeel;

His insecurity about falling behind the other dragon slayers is a little more prevelant-- he just kind of always feels like he has something to prove

An important part of the Rewrite to me is thst there's the opportunity for characters who didn't really seem to interact as much get the opportunity to, so I'll also put out there thst Gajeel forms pretty tight bonds with Wendy, Erza, team Shadow Gear as a whole not just Levy, and the Strauss siblings

I don't think he really knows what he actually likes to do in his free time. He kind of just tags along with other people doing things they like to do

He's roughly very similar to how he was in canon. A lot of the work I've done on him has been more just smoothing out the edges and adjusting his behavior to reflect the people I've declared him the closest to

Juvia;

It's so important to me that she gets to be a character outside of being in love with Gray. She does still have a crush on him, and she's not super subtle about it, but she's also like.... she's capable of being a normal person around and about him. They are genuinely friends above anything else

She had no idea how to talk to anyone. Cana and Mirajane were lowkey her saviors when it came to learning how to interact with other people and not be a complete freak, so she's super tight with them in particular

In canon, we were shown both thst she made her own Teru Teru Bozus, and that she knit Gray a scarf once. There's also a couple other things we're shown that its never explicitly state she made them, but I feel like the implication is there. So I'm taking those and running with them-- I'm making her a really crafty person, and she loves and takes a lot of comfort in doing things like sewing, knitting, and crocheting, and that's something she notably does in her free time-- especially since she doesn't just do them for the sake of doing them, she almost always makes something for someone (got a little drawing about this incoming actually)

We only really got to know the bare minimum of Juvia's backstory-- that her parents are dead, she was taken in by her uncle who did his best to help her and her rain problem by seeking out water and ice wizards, and then he also died while seeking help for her-- so I've expanded on it a little and made some minor changes! Longest story short; her father died in a workplace accident before she was born, and her mother died during child birth, which is what lead to her being taken in by her uncle. As much as he loved her and was doing his best with her, he also kind of always resented her and blamed her for the death of his sister (her mom) even though it really was not her fault. Juvia sort of always recognized this, but also as a traumatized child, blamed herself, which lead to the intensifying of the rain around her as she got older and understood things better. That's when her uncle started looking for other water wizards and ice wizards to try and help stop the rain. He went out one day to meet with one, and he never came back. Juvia doesn't know if something happened or if the resentment finally built of too much and he just up and left, and that's something she's never going to get closure on. It definitely still plagues the back of her mind and affects the way she acts now, even if she thinks she's moved past that point in her life.

Woah

That was a lot, sorry akfbskd

I hope this was at least some of what you wanted to hear about them!!

#fairy tail #gajeel redfox #gajeel fairy tail #fairy tail gajeel #juvia lockser #juvia fairy tail #fairy tail juvia

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winslowat3am · 2 years

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You prob won’t see this but hi! I follow you and your beautiful wife bc of your love for black women and life tips! I wanna share a story that happened yesterday where I was harassed in a gas station by an aggressive black male security guard and get nonblack poc feedback bc I no longer feel safe around black men and just curious to what advice or thoughts you have.

Last night I walked inside a pilot gas station to use the restroom where I wore a yellow camo track suit with the hood up bc I was cold. The security told me to take my hood down even tho there was no policy where I could see and followed me to the restroom door and called me out my name (I heard him thru the door), after I finished in the restroom I went to confront him at the register he was hiding behind where we got into a heated verbal exchange , I cussed him out amd I hurt his ego evidently bc he felt the need to follow me outside to escalate it but I outtalked him and got in my car. I never took my hood down. I went back in the gas station with a girlfriend for water after informing her of what happened where he then tried to make me remove my hood again and tried to encourage the women at the registers to refuse me service bc I wouldn’t remove my hood, we got into it again. He was aggressive, approached me slamming his hand on the counter, got loud, and sensitive bc I got the best of him twice verbally and in the end I still got the water and never took my hood down; the nice white lady at the register took my money from my friend who paid for it, the black woman at the register was a m@mmy. He nitpicked my outfit and physical appearance but ppl passing thru wore hoods and had pants hanging off their asses, tummy shirts, brought dogs in the store, but was never harassed like I was. I don’t have a problem following a policy but I won’t follow a policy when it’s enforced on me but no one else. So I called the police and they told me to file a complaint with corporate and see what I can do about it so I will be calling them in the morning. Did I mention the security tried to get me banned for trespassing just bc i didn’t back down and verbally whooped him?? LOLL!!! I’ll be carrying a switchblade from now on and learning to shoot a gun real soon!

Read my tags. I'm assuming you're a bw? It doesn't take all the hoodrat buffoonery Glocktavious displayed to ask someone to remove their hood. Talk to a lawyer, they'll help you go about prosecuting Dustavious the right way. So unprofessional. I hope this isn't a late response, I don't really check Tumblr lately or read every ask but yours grabbed my attention. You did the right thing! Always stand up for yourself. You're a savage for checking his ass. Never be afraid of a man, & keep a weapon on you. 👏👏👏👏Insecure, pussy "men" pick fights with women, they think being aggressive & loud intimidates you & they never prepare for a strong retort that shuts their shit down. My completely honest & straightforward unfiltered pov: We need to address the fact that the bullying of bw is a problematic behavior that is perpetuated by bm primarily (not all, but atp it's so common it might as well be). You'd be better off opening up your dating options to men outside of your race, tbh. (Be very selective & careful when itrl dating). Non-bm build their communities & protect their women. [Redacted] That's why I don't understand why some ww leave wm, who have privilege & power, for bm, who 9/10 don't have anything to offer except dick, kids & struggle love. Even when bm manage to have success it doesn't change their crusty ass mentality. I recently learned that a bw is killed by a bm every six hours. [Redacted] Bm are the only race of men who publicly bash, degrade & bully their race of women while praising, fetishizing & worshipping non-bw. But you can't expect men who hate themselves to love or value you. I see the bs bw have to deal with daily & it saddens me. I feel like they target bw cause they think it'll make them men & acceptable in the eyes of wm, it's embarrassing. [Redacted] I can't imagine treating my baby like that. [Redacted] I'll never post or reblog a "this is a safe space for everyone" post. It's not. I don't post for them. I don't want racists/colorists in my space where bw & woc tell me that they feel safe, seen & protected. I gatekeep my blog so that you're safe expressing your feelings here. I thought it was obvious since I never acknowledge bm but it needs to be said. I 100% agree with the bw advising bw to choose higher quality men. You should watch Cynthia G & Paris Milan on YouTube & other black women who cover domestic & racial topics, it's very educational & insightful, they offer a lot of perspective & I agree with so many points they make. [Redacted] The best advice I can give you is to run & never look back. Good luck. ❤️

#you can sue him personally for discrimination & verbal harassment & file a complaint with corporate #If you're banned from the store then you can have the cops get his information & press charges #once corporate finds out about the incident he'll more than likely lose his job #Make sure to stress that he intentionally embarrassed you by making a scene followed you to the bathroom & outside of the store in attempt #to escalate the situation he was highly aggressive & approached you & that you felt scared for your safety which caused emotional distress #those are super important details & ultimately where he fucked up #& if you're able to write down the date/time this occurred & have the camera footage obtained by police & your friends as witnesses #it'll help your case #The moment someone loses their cool & lowers themself even lower than they already are you already won #As you go through life the more jackasses you'll encounter & you'll become so immune that shit won't even anger you the way it used to #Speaking from experience #I don't see him living long cause losers who fuck with people & think being loud & ghetto gives them an upper hand never live a long life #toxic masculinity is a fear of strong women masked by a fraudulent superiority complex #he's corny asf if the only thing he could think to call you was ugly like what guy doesn't automatically run to that as an insult?#They even use it when they get rejected it's always that or 'bitch' cause they're sooo original #they're tiring #long post #ask

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blackjackkent · 5 months

Text

Companion comments regarding Shadowheart's makeover, all of which I love.

-----

"Shadowheart walks a little freer of the shadows. She could shave her skull and paint it purple; it would still suit her."

<3 Jaheira, a hundred years down the line, is still best team mom.

-----

"Something is different about Shadowheart. New facial creases, perhaps? A fresh battlescar I hadn't noticed? Bah. It eludes me."

LMAO. Dork. I like to think Hector points out the actual change and she's like "Oh. Well, I didn't say I cared" but secretly she thinks it looks good.

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"Love Shadowheart's new look. Softer, less severe. It suits her."

Wyll is, as always, a sweetheart. <3

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"Gods, Shadowheart looks like a stack of gold! Never thought I could get so excited about someone's forehead, but here we are."

Rofl. Karlach is also a sweetheart, in a more casual way. (Also apparently I am almost as much of a dork as Lae'zel bc I straight up didn't notice until this dialogue line that it was a haircut change; I only registered that the color was different. Whoops.)

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"I was concerned when I saw Shadowheart creeping about with a blade in the dead of night, but it was just to cut her hair, it seems. It suits her."

I'm not sure I blame Halsin for jumping to a worried conclusion on this. XD

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"There's no more radiant sight than that of someone who's learned to love themselves anew. Shadowed in name but no longer in spirit - it suits her."

OK, that was very cute, Gale. [pats him on the head] We'll work on it for you too; maybe we can also get you a haircut when we get the bomb out of your chest.

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"Ooh, we have a new look for a new Shadowheart! Nice as it is, she still doesn't have the best hair in camp."

LOL. Don't worry, bud, you are still top of the heap. (I hope he and Shadowheart become white hair buddies and give each other fashion advice.)

-----

Withers has no comment on it, which I think is just tragic.

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #shadowheart

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dampsleeves · 6 months

Text

life update :3 (a little vent-y)

sooo, been over 200 days since the house caught fire and we had to move. obviously, a lot of stuff's been happening. can't go into deep details for fear of someone I don't want to find this, finding this, but I'll say this much: FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I've very rarely mentioned family on here (for obvious reasons - this account is NOT made for that lol) but here goes. tw for pretty heavy topics: mentions of abuse, father issues, health issues, transphobia & financial issues. I turned 18 Feb 21st, literally just almost 2 months before the damn house caught fire. Meanwhile, my brother's still a minor. MEANING, I narrowly escaped the custody battle my mom & dad are in. But unfortunately, he's still stuck in the middle of it. :( My pops was not really the nicest person to me when I was a kid -

whooping my ass whenever I did anything wrong, no matter how minor the offense was.

Telling me that he loved God more than he loved me, because "You're God's gift to me. God is the one who gave you to me in the first place," when I was four.

Telling me that if I didn't start being ok with receiving physical affection from family - which he knew made me uncomfortable - I was "going to grow up to be a S3R1AL K1LL3R" (yes he said that.)

Telling me that "God doesn't make mistakes," and that he "made me into a beautiful young woman for a reason" after I came out to him personally at 14 - big mistake 0/10 stars, would never do again. You get the idea. And those are the tame examples I could think of. So, I finally cut him off. As soon as my mom, brother, & I were in our new place, I blocked his number and haven't talked to him since. I was sick of him not respecting my boundaries, and repeatedly demonstrating that he thought of me as nothing more than a possession. Tired of him making me feel crazy all the time too. But now he's fucking with my mom & brother. Intentionally not paying child support till the last minute possible - & then making it in as small of payments at a time as he possibly can (yes he can afford it btw.) Trying to force my brother to go over to his place, even when my brother does NOT want to - which has begun giving my brother psychological issues & issues with school, mirroring the ones I used to struggle with bc of that bastard. My mom is juggling all sorts of things, & I really at least wanna try to help financially by getting a job, but I can't yet because: she says that I'm only 18, & shouldn't have to get a job to help out (I disagree.) I don't have an ID bc she wants me to wait on my legal name change - which costs a pretty decent chunk of change - reason is bc she "wants me to have as easy an early adulthood life as possible" (love her.) AND, I haven't actually graduated - No, I dipped in 11th bc school was hell (not exaggerating,) & instead just decided to pursue a GED, that I haven't been able to work towards bc of the shit show that is life in midwestern america. So I've been very depressed, exhausted, & hopeless. The least I can do is clean up our house while she's at work, & get this - some days I don't even have the physical energy to do THAT! I do not know what the hell is wrong with my body currently, but it absolutely sucks. & I'm really tired of just taking up space all the time. She's dealing with health issues too, & I'm always worried ab her. Idk what the hell to do, but something's gotta give. Everybody needs a fucking break. I keep trying to shoo away all the dark thoughts, push myself as often as possible, & keep my fingers crossed, but jfc... Sorry just needed to yell into the void for a sec. I'll live, I'm sure - I've survived worse. Sometimes things just suck. But I like to think that someday they won't. :,)

#spiidervent #not snz #venting :3 #feel free to ignore this if you dont wanna hear me bitch and moan

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longlivefanfic-net · 2 years

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106 & 146 w nancy wheeler PLEASE dawg i need it so bad fr 🙁 also i know how ppl hc nancy as a dom but in my head that girl is my prissy princess and i need so bad to give her the sex that no man could 🤷🏽also it would be cool if you could fit in something to do w nancy x barb bc that’s a hc that I’ve had for a while :) & bi nancy finally accepting herself 🤭 okay yes im probably gg be spamming reqs like this every so often- much love !! -maxaroni & cheese (wow im so funny hahaha 😐)

Maxaroni! I feel like it's taken me FOREVER to get this finished for you (sorry!!!) but it is DONE. I hope you like it!

Prompts: “I’m going to fuck you until you forget that asshole’s name.” and “Were you just masturbating?” “U-uh…no, I was just…” “Want some help?”

Content: sapphic reader; afab!reader; afab!reader x Nancy Wheeler; college roommates; smut, just like a lot of queer smut; some pining on the readers side because why not; Nancy Wheeler has a praise kink; mommy kink; Jonathan x Nancy

Word count: 7.1k (this was supposed to be short WHOOPS)

Summary: You meet Nancy the day you move into your shared college living space and spend the next few months desperately wishing to be between her legs. But she's got a boyfriend! And a plan for her life! Right?!

Nancy Fuckin' Wheeler

It wasn’t your fault you had fallen for your roommate. She had shown up on move-in day, had simply appeared, like the pixie she resembled, in the too-small room you were expected to share for the next nine months. Her brown hair had been curly, shorter back then, with bangs that brushed the tops of the lashes that framed her large, round eyes. She had smiled at you, striding across the tiny room with her hand already extended, and you had noticed the way her nose wrinkled, right at the tip, when she grinned and you were gone. “I’m Nancy,” she had said, picking up your hand to shake, firmly, like she shook a lot of men’s hands and was tired of being told she had a weak grip. “Nancy Wheeler.”

You had played it cool for the first few weeks. This was your college roommate–if you didn’t fuck this up, she might end up being your best friend for life. It’s not like you could say, “Hi, Nancy, nice to meet you, I like girls and think you’re hot!” No. No way. And, if you were honest, you couldn’t risk isolating the only person you knew at Emerson. It was lonely in those big buildings, the bustling sounds of city life right outside every window yet feeling so far away. You wanted Nancy to be your friend, and you had thought that meant you had to pretend to be…like her.

After a few weeks, though, you couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore. Nancy had taken to having full conversations with you while she changed in the mornings, tossing her towel on her bed when she got back from the shared bathroom. She’d hold intense eye contact with you, chattering away the entire time about her classes, and her plans for the day, and whether you wanted to go grocery shopping with her that day, and her boyfriend, always her damn boyfriend. She’d stand on the other side of your narrow bedroom, completely naked, practically daring your eyes to slip from her face, and talk at a hundred miles a minute about Jonathan, this perfect Jonathan, who was always coming to visit that weekend but never actually showed up.

When you cracked, she didn’t even react. It was during a rare moment of silence, her back still wrapped in her towel and turned to you as she pulled a top out of her neatly-organized closet. Your eyes were fixed on the back of Nancy’s neck; her brown hair was pinned up, and the pale skin of her neck still had beads of water from the shower darkening the fine curls that lay flat against her skin. You watched a drop of water slide down her skin, tangle in that one, C-shaped piece of hair that had fallen out of the clip, and felt your eyes glaze over; you wished, desperately, to be water, to be able to slide over her porcelain body, touching without touching, and find rest in her hair. “You know I like girls, right?” You had blurted out, the words throwing themselves desperately off your tongue to land with a disgusting smack in the middle of the room, as bare and naked as Nancy tended to be.

She turned her head over her shoulder, barely glancing away from the shirt in her hands. “Oh! No, I didn’t know that.” You stood, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for Nancy to call you names or tell you she was uncomfortable or tell you to request a room change but instead–instead, all you got was a slight blush over her cheeks when she turned back to you. “Did you–did you want me to change in the bathroom?” You shook your head, suddenly numb to the sounds of the cars in the street, the people yelling at each other on the sidewalks, the sounds of your other roommates making breakfast in the kitchen. It all disappeared when Nancy smiled at you–almost shyly, her lips only slightly tilting up at the corners before her eyes ducked down–and removed her towel.

Afterwards, Nancy had taken it upon herself to make sure you knew you were welcome to bring over whoever you wanted. She eyed girls at the grocery store, the coffee shop, the diner the two of you frequented for late night pancakes, and nudged you, using those wide eyes to motion towards the girls she had picked out for you. She had good taste, you had to give her that–but the girls Nancy picked were always too tall, their hair too light, their bodies too full for who you really wanted.

One night, late–or early, really–the two of you were nestled into the couch, swathed by blankets, Nancy’s pajama clad legs in your bare lap as you passed a carton of ice cream back and forth. The other roommates had gone out earlier, disappearing in a haze of hairspray and blue eyeshadow with promises to be back for lunch tomorrow. Nancy had declined their invitations, staying home and waiting for Jonathan to call. When he didn’t, you slipped downstairs, running across the street to the bodega for a can of Coke and Nancy’s favorite icecream.

The night slipped away with the two of you there, sitting by the phone–”just in case,” Nancy said, biting her too-full bottom lip as she avoided your eyes. The conversation started innocently enough: You wanted to comfort her, and had started sharing stories of your own pathetic dating life. She laughed so hard she snorted, actually snorted, her nose wrinkling and her eyes creasing at the corners as she closed them, when you told her about the boyfriend you barely let touch you in high school, the “best friend” you had “practiced” with instead.

“I did that too!” She exclaimed, her voice high and breathless between the sweet peals of her laughter. Her feet pressed into the bare skin of your legs, toes digging against soft skin as you tried to ignore the goosebumps that raced down your arms. She was so warm, so full of light as she gazed at you, and the weight of her body, sprawled so casually over yours, felt so right, felt like home. “I did that too,” she said. “My friend, Barb–she was my first kiss. We said we were ‘practicing’ for when boys decided to date us.”

You reeled in your shock, loosening the fingers that had immediately tightened around her ankles at the words. Nancy Wheeler–Nancy “Perfect” Wheeler, Nancy “4.0” Wheeler, Nancy fuckin Wheeler–kissed girls? Nancy eyed you from the other end of the couch, the television light flickering over her brows, still high with the glimmer of her laugh. Her cheeks were dark, a blush building there as she held your eyes with her own. “What?” She asked, her voice suddenly low. “You didn’t know I kissed girls?” She cocked her head, slightly, the movement exposing the side of her throat. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, aggressive thumps, as her eyelids lowered slightly. Her lips parted, just barely, and you watched the pink tip of her tongue wet the very edges of the lush bow.

“Nancy,” you replied, your shaking voice betraying you, your body betraying you as it warmed under her gaze. “That’s…kinda gay.” Nancy rolled her doe eyes, smirking slightly. “Are you–Nancy, do you like girls?” She shrugged her pajama-clad shoulders, angling her head towards the TV. “Yeah,” she said, flicking a heavy-lidded glance back at you. “And guys. It’s not a big deal.” She said it so nonchalant, said it like she hadn’t just rocked your world and flipped it on its axis, like she hadn’t made your heart jump into your throat. Nancy liked girls. Nancy could like you. Hell, it almost seemed like she was flirting with you. Except–

Except for Jonathan. Fucking Jonathan, who happened to call at that exact moment, like your thought of his name summoned him from California, the earsplitting ring of the telephone making both you and Nancy jump. She grabbed, desperately, at the receiver, picking up the heavy plastic and cradling it between her strong chin and shoulder. “Hello?” She whispered, breathy with her excitement. “Yeah. No, it’s fine, it’s– I can talk.” She looked over her shoulder at you and, if you didn’t know better, you’d have thought she looked guilty.

You smiled, bitterly aware that it didn’t meet your eyes, and slid her feet off your lap. Standing up, you stretched–the two of you had been on that couch, skin touching skin, for hours now, and your joints felt stiff. Nancy watched, either unaware or uncaring that you could see her eyes fixate on the way your oversized t-shirt lifted with your arms, the hem dancing over the edges of your underwear. Heat pulsed through your core, a sudden, desperate throbbing, as her eyes met yours from where she sat on the couch. Your breath caught, slightly, in your chest, and you turned, heading to the bathroom for a cold shower–and, if that didn’t work, a few minutes alone with your hand and the image of Nancy, eyes wide and hungry, jaw loose like it was waiting for you to guide it.

After your shower–and, yes, a few minutes of picturing Nancy’s face, Nancy’s body, Nancy’s neck and skin and hair and lips–you headed back to your shared bedroom. Nancy was no longer in the living room, not lazed over the arm of the couch while she giggled with Jonathan on the phone. You opened the door to your bedroom quietly, hoping she’d already be asleep. She was in her bed, a small bundle of limbs and dark hair tucked in amidst the lightly colored bedding of her twin-sized mattress.

She wasn’t asleep. Maybe you had turned the door handle too quietly. Maybe she heard you and just didn’t care. Either way, when you closed the door with a soft snick, Nancy kept her eyes closed, continued to thrust her hips lightly against, you assumed, the hand hidden under her bedspread. You felt your heart stutter in your chest, your knees suddenly weak; she was beautiful, gorgeous, somewhere between frustrated and focused as she worked against her own skin. “Nance,” you whispered, and her eyes shot open, wide and all-too-innocent as she fluttered her lashes at you across the room. “Were you just masturbating?”

“Um,” she replied, cheeks dusting lightly with a pink blush that matched her bedspread, “U-uh…no, I was just…” Nancy’s eyes flitted nervously around the room, her lips pressing together into a hard, embarrassed line, and you watched her throat bob as she swallowed. It was the swallow that did it, of all things. Your newfound best friend, your roommate, laying in bed with her dark curls spread under her angelic face had already driven you to the edge, but watching her throat move as she swallowed, wishing you could taste that swallow, finally hurled you over the precipice you had been dancing on since the first time you had lain eyes on her.

“Want some help?” The words burst from between your lips, your body going cold and then hot as the blush raced under your skin. But the words were out, were hanging in the air between the two of you, and all you could do now was wait, your veins full of ice. Nancy’s eyes widened, her jaw relaxing and going slack so that her lips parted. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the full, rosebud pink curves, wishing to be in between them; that’s why you couldn’t miss it when they shifted, just slightly, letting Nancy’s whispered “yes” glide under your skin.

The ice in your veins melted, the sudden liquid rushing in your ears, as the heat you had just dulled sparked back to life in your stomach. You pushed down the excitement, the fear that swirled through your body; it was important, so, so important that you handle this right. You walked towards her tiny bed slowly, giving her plenty of time to say “I was kidding!” or “Nevermind,” as you shifted her blankets aside, sliding your half-clothed body into the bed next to her. Nancy shifted her face, just slightly, so that her oversized eyes were trained on your face when she blinked, a rush of blood rising to the surface of her cheeks.

You looked down at Nancy’s slender body as you propped yourself up on one arm, pressing yourself closer to her under the warmth of the blankets. Jonathan–the mysterious Jonathan, who never came to visit when he said he would, who only existed to you as the framed photograph on Nancy’s desk–flashed in your mind, and you wondered if he was the reason Nancy was rutting her hips against her own hand; if he had spent those minutes you were in the shower whispering in her ear across the phone lines, making her desperate for him, for the feeling of his body pressed against hers. It doesn’t matter, you thought to yourself. I’m the one in bed with her. The thought made you blush, and your eyes skittered away from Nancy’s, floating down the outline of her body under the blankets she was covered by.

“You don’t have to–” Nancy suddenly whispered, watching the heat building along your neck and cheeks, and you cut her off, jumping on the words and stubbing the burning embers of her rejection out before it could flame. “I want to,” you whispered back, the words shocking you as they pressed into the room, making their presence felt in your core with a brush of heat. Nancy just stared, doe eyes blinking rapidly as she pressed her lips together, swallowing again and–fuck, what you would have given to taste the inside of her mouth. She looked, pointedly, at her body, hidden under the bedspread, before flashing her eyes back to you.

You pulled the corner of your bottom lip between your teeth, worrying it slightly, before slipping your free hand over her body, her flat stomach and soft thighs, until it was over the hand she still had wedged between her legs. “Move your hand, Nancy,” you commanded, watching the blankets so you didn’t have to look at her. When she pulled her hand away from her sex, you could have sworn that, for just a moment, she let her fingers brush against your palm.

Slowly, your fingers cupped around Nancy’s folds, luxuriating in the heat emanating from her skin. When you slipped your middle finger in between her lips, stroking once, you kept your face carefully turned away from hers, refusing to watch the shuddering gasp fall from her lips. Your finger was poised at her entrance, ready to push inside of her–or pull back–with the slightest hint of what she wanted. “Nance,” you said, your voice low and quiet. “This is going to feel better if I get you wet first.” You let the silence build between the two of you, stretching on for what felt like an agonizing length of time. “Can I kiss you?”

“O–okay.” The voice under you was timid, shy, unlike the Nancy you had come to know in the last few months. You angled your head towards hers, desperately seeking out her face in the dim light of your shared bedroom. Nancy was watching you, eyes eager as she licked her lower lip. The warm lap of fire in your core suddenly tightened, blazing as you leaned down, ducking your head to her strong jaw. Your lips pressed against the coolness of her skin, the hard line of her angular jaw, and you felt her chest hitch under you, her body shake with the desire that buried itself in her lungs at the touch of your mouth on her body.

You pulled back, peering at Nancy’s face. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted as she lay under you, glowing in the soft beams of moonlight that slanted in through the window, radiant; she was a Renaissance painting against her pillow, a woman blissful in the throes of passion, seduced by an immortal god. Your body, your soul cried out for you to touch her, touch her, and you leaned down, pressing your lips against the long line of her throat, the column of smooth skin, before running your tongue over it. The tiniest, softest moan escaped Nancy’s lips as your tongue warmed her skin and–

You felt her body under your hand, still cupping her sex, flutter. Her walls tightened, almost imperceptibly, as your finger waited for her body to grant you entrance. When you felt the rush of slick dripping in between her folds, sliding over your hand, you slipped yourself inside of her. Nancy whimpered, eyes still closed under you as you curled your finger slightly, pressing against the warm, tight wall of her body. “Shh,” you murmured, and your free arm pressed itself into her pillow, your hand pushing her curls out of her face so you could watch her eyes tighten, her brow crease. She moaned again, barely more than a sigh, and you felt her hips tilt up, pushing your finger deeper inside of her. You couldn’t stop the grin that slipped over your lips–and she couldn’t see it, anyways, her eyes shut as her head rolled back on her pillow.

“More,” Nancy moaned, and you ignored the spreading heat in between your legs as you bullied a second finger into her. She was tight, much tighter than you ever would have dreamed, and you could feel her clenching around the forced spread of your hand inside of her. You rotated your wrist, pulling your fingers back before slipping them in again and again, never fully pulling them out as she gasped with each thrust. “More, more,” Nancy’s voice came to you like a prayer falling from her lips, begging, pleading for you to touch her; you dipped your head, lips latching on to her exposed collarbone as she mewled.

Nancy ground her hips against your hand, her desire coating your palm and other fingers now, desperate for more friction as you filled and stretched her. “What is it, babygirl?” You heard yourself whispering against Nancy’s throat, the words slipping out without your permission. “What do you need from mommy?” Nancy’s hips stuttered against your hand, a physical reflection of her shock at the growl in your words, the low, coaxing tone that wallowed in between your bodies.

“Need–I want–” Nancy stuttered, and you dared to glance up at her from where you suckled on her throat.

“Use your words.”

“I want you to touch my clit.”

“Good girl,” you whispered, and Nancy whimpered, a high-pitched sound that scratched itself out a home in your heart as it fell from her lips. You let your thumb push in between her folds, seeking out the swollen bud above her opening. Pushing into it, you reveled in the sound of Nancy’s breathing, harsh pants now as her hips lifted again and again. “You’re doing so good, sweet girl,” you breathed into her skin, fingers curling inside of her as your thumb rubbed harsh, fierce circles. “Keep going. Keep going until you cum for me, baby.”

Nancy whined at your words, and you felt her suddenly clench around you, drawing your fingers even deeper into her body. You moved your thumb faster, whispering “that’s my girl, that’s my girl, go ahead, baby,” as her panting turned into soft cries, little moans that elevated in pitch as her body pulled, tightening and releasing in short spasms. When she stopped, her hips slowing, her muscles loosening around you suddenly, you kept your fingers resting in her warmth. Pulling your face back from her neck, you carefully avoided Nancy’s eyes, avoided seeking out the sweat and blush on her face that was meant to be your reward, and carefully pulled your hand from her body, gentle as her walls twitched.

Your hand came up from under the blankets, dripping and coated in the clear expression of Nancy’s satisfaction, of what you had to assume was her enjoyment of your touch. You chanced a glance back at her, still lying on the pillows. Nancy’s eyes were on your hands, the corners of her eyes tight as her mouth pressed into a hard line; you felt the burn of rejection simmer in your gut, a byproduct of the guilt and shame you read in her face. “I’m just–I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you said, flipping Nancy’s blanket back and standing up suddenly, desperately hoping she couldn’t see the discoloration where your underwear was soaked through, couldn’t see the glimmer of slick dripping down your own thighs.

******************************************************************************

The two of you never spoke about it. Never, not once, over the next few months did you bring it up–and there were chances to. When you brought a girl home from a Halloween party, Nancy didn’t ask if you got her off the same way you did her; when she left to go back to Hawkins for Thanksgiving, you didn’t ask if her own hand would satisfy her the way yours had; and when either of you entered your room late at night, you both always knocked first, giving the other time to whip their hand out from their underwear and feign sleep.

It almost felt like you had made it up, like it was some too-vivid dream. Like you had dreamt what Nancy’s throat tasted like, like you had dreamt how her hair smelled like jasmine, like you had dreamt that her fingers had tightened in the fabric of your shirt as she came, like you had dreamt of her face cradled so gently in your palm while you pushed her hair out of her face.

Or worse–like you had dreamt up the little glances she shot you in the kitchen as you poured coffee, her eyes darting away nervously as soon as they met yours; had dreamt the way her eyes pulled together with hurt when you had walked the girl from the Halloween party out of your apartment, ducking slightly to avoid the kiss the girl had tried to press to your mouth at the front door, aware of Nancy’s gaze on the back of your head; had dreamt the blush that darkened her cheeks as she took calls from Jonathan in your living room, the phone ringing for her less and less often.

The one thing that you knew you weren’t creating in your own head was the silence. Because Nancy still changed in your shared room, exposing her full body–the soft, pale thighs your hand had parted, the pert, firm breasts you had felt against your torso when you leaned into her–to you as she pulled her clothes, but now she did it without speaking.

You would have let the silence go on forever, would have lived in quiet for the rest of the year and moved out in the spring and spent the rest of your life pushing thoughts of Nancy Wheeler, Nancy Fuckin’ Wheeler, out of your head for the rest of your life. Would have never spoken to her again, if that’s what she wanted, until December.

She had packed her bags, chattering at top speed to all of the roommates: Jonathan had called, had made plans for the two of them, had booked her a flight–she was going to California for Christmas. She’d spend the holidays wrapped around the boy you resented, snuggled warm under his blankets, his hand between her thighs instead of yours, exchanging presents and kisses, while you sat alone in the drafty apartment you all shared. The other roommates were going out of town, too, with promises to bring back their family’s cookies and cakes for you since you were the only one not planning on leaving for the month of break.

When Nancy left, she had flung an arm around the neck of each girl; had hugged them quickly, but fiercely, like she wanted them to know that she loved them but not enough to stay. When she walked up to you, her arms were slower–she wrapped both of the thin, long limbs around your waist instead of your neck, pulling you in tightly. Her lips ghosted over your racing pulse in your throat, a gentle brush that could have been mistaken for an accident, before she pulled back. “Bye!” She chirped, her voice as bright as her welling eyes. “See you in a month!”

The next few weeks were a haze. A disorienting blur of the other roommates leaving, of rides to the airport and lonely trips to the grocery store. Of waking up in an empty bedroom, no sounds of soft sighs and sleepy, content breaths from the other side of the room. You settled into a routine: Wake up, make breakfast, bundle up in your warmest coat and a thick scarf to go for a walk, come home, flick through TV while you snacked, make dinner, go to bed. It was boring, yes, but the routine settled you, and when thoughts of Nancy, images of her wide eyes and wider grin, her sharp brows and strong jaw, her long fingers and dark curls, danced across your retinas, you could shake your head and refocus on the task at hand. There was no space for the lingering hurt in your heart with your routine, no space to bemoan the state of your life and loneliness as you sat on the couch on Christmas Eve.

The routine was familiar at this point, comforting in the way it surrounded you with people and distractions while you were entirely alone. The routine is why it was so alarming when the front door swung open, accompanied by the loud thumps of a heavy suitcase hitting the floor. The routine was the reason you looked up so slowly, why it took your brain so long to process the small woman in your doorway wearing a skirt and t-shirt, shivering aggressively as tears slid down her face. “N–Nancy?” You asked, feeling your eyebrows draw together in confusion. She opened her mouth, the only thing coming out of it a wail.

“Nancy,” you said, standing up suddenly. You rushed to the door, wrapping your arms around her slender, icy frame. “Nancy, what’s wrong? What–Why are you here? Where is your fucking jacket?” You asked, your head turning quickly to look at the frozen flurries frolicking past your window, snowflakes glinting in the light of the streetlamps. A watery laugh burst from the chest wrapped under your arms.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Nancy asked, tilting her head slightly to peer up at you from watery lashes. “I come home,” she sniffed, wiping her nose as you relinquished your grip on her, “crying,” she said, emphasizing the word, “and you’re worried about me not having a coat?” She laughed again, the sound broken and making your heart ache.

“It’s freezing outside, Nance. You–come on, you need to get wrapped up. Come sit on the couch.” You pushed her farther into the apartment, following behind to swaddle her in the blankets, still warm from your own body heat, that were piled on the couch. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to be in California with Jonathan until January.”

She sniffed, running a finger under her eyes. “We broke up,” she said, her voice catching on the words. The story burbled out of her in stops and starts, tears and shuddering gasps interrupting her words as she recounted the morning’s conversation, how Jonathan had sat her down at the breakfast table, how he had explained that he wasn’t sure he could give her the life she wanted, she deserved, he said, and how, eventually, it had come down to the simplest words possible: We just don’t love each other anymore.”

Her hands reached out, sliding over the blankets to wind her fingers in between the spaces of yours. “He was right,” Nancy said, her voice more even now as the tears stopped. “He was right, we just–we don’t love each other anymore. I don’t think we have for a while. But I just–I wasn’t expecting it, you know? I thought–” she shook her head, a trickle of laughter flowing from her lips. “I thought I would just get through the next four years, and then I would marry Jonathan, and we’d have a couple of kids, and we would be normal. I wanted to be normal.” Her eyes met yours, sending a shiver down your spine before she shifted her gaze to your interlocked fingers. “I don’t think I can be normal, though. I think–I think I want something else for myself now.” Nancy’s fingers tightened, a shot of adrenaline coursing through your veins at the touch.

When she leaned forward, pressing her wide lips to yours, it caught you off guard. You jolted backwards, breaking the first real kiss the two of you had ever had. “Nance,” you whispered. “I’m– I don’t think we should–”

“Please.”

“You just broke up–”

“I don’t care. I don’t care about him like that anymore. I haven’t since–since before we–please, I just want you to touch me.”

You bit back the words that had been pushing for space on your tongue, the denials and the rebuffs that were rational and responsible. “Say that again.”

“I want you to touch me. Please.” The last word was a whimper, soft and quiet like she was ashamed of it, but it melted whatever lingering resolve was buried in your chest. You moved quickly, bringing your mouth to Nancy’s again, pressing lips together as you tilted your head, pressing hers back so that your tongue was able to slip easily into the space between her lips. She gasped, quietly, against your mouth, and you felt your heart rattle in your chest, chaotic and longing to be closer to her.

“I’m going to fuck you,” you whispered, moving your mouth to press harsh, hot kisses into her chin, her jawline, her neck, her throat, “until you forget that asshole’s name. Understood?” The whimper that fell from Nancy’s lips was your only verbal response, but she nodded her head vigorously, her brown curls shifting out of place with the motion; the way her fingers tightened around your arms, her nails digging into your skin as her head tilted back, a moan falling from her mouth, confirmed it for you as well.

Your fingers flew to her waistline and were met by her hands; you pulled her skirt down as she pushed her shirt up (a trickle of annoyance in the back of your mind that Jonathan, fucking Jonathan who’s been an invisible presence between the two of you for so long, let her come back here in the dead of winter wearing a t-shirt and a skirt). Your fingers find bare skin, exposed paleness dappled with large freckles here and there. It’s the first time you’ve seen her like this–the last time you touched her, she was covered the entire time, keeping herself hidden away from your prying eyes like a sacred relic, like she knew that you were greedy and would take as much of her as you could and would never, never give up what you held in your hand at that moment.

You wrapped your fingers around her waist, pressing your hands into the lines of muscle and sinew that separated you from her bones. Overcome, you dipped your head, pressing your nose flat into the soft padding above her belly button. The weight of your face pushed Nancy back onto the arm of the couch, her legs sprawling open as you fit your body between them so you could continue to touch the parts of her that reclined backwards. You dragged your nose up, letting your skin burn a path across her stomach as your nose and chin pushed up, up, until your chin was resting on the very bottom line of her bra. You settled your face there, Nancy’s fingers winding through your hair as she gripped your scalp, and blinked at her, a slow smile turning your lips as you took in her disheveled hair, pink cheeks, panting breaths. “Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi yourself,” she whispered back, a gentle smile settling over her face. She loosened her grip on your hair, and the long fingers brushed against your forehead. Nancy tilted her head, slightly, watching her own hands trace patterns over your skin. When her eyes drifted back to yours, you couldn’t help but see the warmness in them, the distant echo of a centuries old fireside that represented home. “Are you done? Or do I get more?” She asked, and you had to stop yourself from practically purring at the simplicity of her request, of the implication that she was just waiting this whole time for you to decide to give her more.

“Depends,” you said, smirking. “What’s your ex’s name?”

“Jonathan,” Nancy replied immediately, eyebrows pulling together.

“Must need more then,” you said, and turned your head abruptly to nip at the swell of the breast that threatened to spill out of the cup of her bra. Nancy’s sharp gasp was finished with a laugh, and your hands slipped under her torso to unclasp her bra, pulling the straps down her arms as you moved the material away from her skin. Her breasts fell free of the enclosure, the pink rosebuds already hard and drawn in the coolness of the air. You bite, playfully, at the curving line of her chest, soothing the small mark from your teeth with your tongue as Nancy whimpers. “Shh,” you whisper, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Your mouth moves, slowly and sloppily, to the hardened perk of her nipple, and you’re quick to take it in between your lips, sliding your tongue over it, around it, all but rolling it in your mouth. Nancy is gasping, little “yes”s bursting from her lips as your hands wander down from her sides, skimming over her narrow hips to clench the tops of her thighs that your body presses between. All she’s wearing underneath you is a pair of the satin panties you’ve spent the last semester watching her shimmy over her hips, wishing desperately to touch.

You lean back, letting your eyes wander over the expanse of her body as Nancy catches her breath. Her chest heaves under your eyes, her pulse throbbing in the column of her throat. “God,” you hear yourself whisper, voice rasping. “You are so fucking pretty for me, baby girl.” Nancy’s eyes widen, her lower lip wobbling as she takes in your words. Her arm extends, grabbing your wrist tightly as she pulls your fingers to her skin.

Nancy places the palm of your hand against her throat, your fingers instinctually wrapping around the slender column. You feel your eyes widen slightly, shocked by the unspoken request; her brows arc, right at the narrow ends, and you feel your face press into a grin. “Words,” you whisper, and Nancy’s eyes slip closed, a tiny smile playing at the curve of her full, swollen mouth.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please choke me. Please. I need you to–”

Her words end abruptly, a gentle sigh replacing her voice as your fingers tighten, pressing into the harsh pulse on the sides of her throat. Your other hand slips between her legs, finding the skin of her inner thighs slick with longing. “Oh, you’re such a good girl,” you whisper, and Nancy’s moan makes your stomach tighten, your core throb. Your fingers slide the soft fabric of her underwear to the side, pushing in between the folds to seek out her center.

“Wait,” Nancy huffs, and you loosen your fingers around her throat, eyes flashing to her face with concern. You look over her, eyes darting for signs of distress, for too-red cheeks or teary eyes. “I just–you already–please, just let me go down on you.” You lean back, feeling your eyebrows climb over your face as your lips part slightly. “Please. Mommy.” The words are stilted, falling from her mouth like bricks, but the light blush snaking over her cheeks tells you that Nancy knows, she knows what she wants, and she wants you.

You nod, the movement subtle. “Okay, baby girl. Whatever you want.” She preens under your words, her eyelashes fluttering as a soft smile highlights the apples in her cheeks. Nancy’s fingers are gentle, slow where yours were quick, as they grab the hem of your night shirt; she pulls it over your head carefully, eyes on yours until your skin is exposed. The cool air of the apartment hits you, causing goosebumps to rise on your soft form.

“You’re so…” Nancy’s voice trails off, quiet as her doe eyes roam over your skin. “Beautiful,” she says, the word hanging in the air between the two of you, glimmering with traces of months worth of pent-up longing. “You’re so beautiful.” Her eyes meet yours, a spark of electricity bouncing from her to tighten your heart in your chest. Nancy leaned forward, pressing her mouth to yours as you fell back against the worn couch. Her delicate hands guide you to lie down on your back, the top of your head pressing into the bottom of the arm of the couch. “Beautiful,” she whispers, pressing her mouth into your throat; “Beautiful,” she says again, her lips cloying at your collarbone; “Beautiful,” hushed, like a prayer, at the curve of your breast; “Beautiful,” louder now, spoken into the softness of your stomach; “Beautiful,” a moan, this time, as you slip your underwear down your legs, exposing your heat to her mouth.

Nancy is quick now, her lips pressing once to the skin above your already-damp folds. You feel her fingers spread you, her body tightening with anticipation in between your clenched thighs. A finger pushes against your opening, the muscles fluttering at the slight pressure. “Is this okay?” Nancy asks, and she pulls her eyes away from your body to gaze up at you. You nod, aware that any words from your lips would come out cracked, broken, as pathetic as you’ve felt dreaming of this moment for the last few months.

Nancy’s finger slides into your core, and a soft sigh falls from your lips. She’s gentle, caring with her hand already up to the palm inside of you. The finger curls, just slightly, as she pulls it back, and your eyelids flicker at the pressure against your walls. She pushes a second finger in, stretching you just slightly as she works her hand against you, forcing a small whine from your lips. “You’re okay?” She says, the end of the sentence rising like a question as her eyes meet yours again. You nod, your eyes already feeling hazy as you watch her watch you. “Can I…use my mouth?” The question is hesitant, tentative, shy.

“Don’t ask so many questions, Wheeler,” you mutter, cheeks burning as your voice shakes. A slow smile spreads over her face, and Nancy pulls her fingers from your warmth and dips her face to the space between your thighs. You can feel her tongue, flat and wide, licking a stripe between your lips; when it passes your gaping hole, you whimper and lift your hips, trying to grind into her face. Her tongue whisks over your clit, barely more than a fleeting brush, but it makes you gasp, the sound echoing through the empty apartment.

“Oh,” Nancy sighs, and her eyes are narrowed, quizzical as she looks at you again. “You want both? Want to be filled and licked?” You nod again, the desire to mock her endless questions dying on your tongue as her fingers slide back in, quickly now that she’s in familiar territory. Your head rolls back on the couch under you, and your eyelids slide closed. When her tongue returns to the swollen burst of nerves, you whimper–the sound is long, loud, ludacris when coupled with the sound of her fingers thrusting into your wetness. “Oh,” Nancy moans–really, truly, moans, into your dripping cunt, and the vibrations send shockwaves through your skin.

“Fuck,” you mutter, and your hands are suddenly wound in her hair, giving you something to hold on to as you rut your hips against her face. Her nose, her tiny, perfect nose, is pressing against your skin, her tongue lapping fast, wide strokes at your clit, and her fingers are starting to relax, to spread from each other and stretch where you’re tightest. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimper, and Nancy’s fingers are faster, harder, while she lets you use her face for friction. “Oh, Nance–Nancy–Don’t–Please don’t–stop–” The words are coming out of your mouth in between hitched breaths, breaking in little gasps and cracks as you force them out, desperate to tell her that if she stops–if her tongue slows, if her fingers disappear, if any of it goes–you’re pretty sure you’ll die on the spot.

“Nance,” you mewl, the word falling from your full lips like a prayer, “Nance, I’m gonna–don’t stop, I’m gonna c–” It’s the last word you get out before your back arches, body tightening around her fingers, a sharpness in your spine curving in on itself until it’s unleashed, the arrow of your desire loosed from the bow of Nancy’s lips. The sound that drips from your mouth is high pitched, cradled on each end by gasps, and you swear you can feel Nancy grinning into your body as she continues, relentlessly fucking you through your freefall.

When you finish, she sits up and pulls her hand from you. You watch as Nancy sits back on her knees, slips her fingers into her mouth. Any thought you would have had at that moment–what does this mean, are we together now, are we going to talk about this, holy shit that was the best orgasm of my fucking life–dissapear from your head as you watch Nancy’s eyes close, an expression of bliss on her features as her mouth cleans you from her hand. She removes her fingers with a subtle pop, and you try to bring your gaze from her lips back to her eyes unsuccessfully. Your eyes are still on her lips, which is why you can’t miss when she says it.

“Jonathan.”

“What?” You ask, eyebrows jumping together in confusion and shock.

“Jonathan,” Nancy repeats, shrugging her shoulders slightly. “I still remember his name.”

You take a moment, letting your earlier conversation roll through your mind. A devilish smile turns up the corners of Nancy’s mouth as she watches you put the pieces together. “Right,” you say, sitting up with a grin on your own face, “Guess I’ll have to do something about that.”

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