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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years

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Wednesday 13 July 1836

11 50

no kiss fine - high wind - so that could not finish the Lodge-chimney - F58° at 9 at which hour out for ½ hour - with Robert Mann in the çidevant coach hour court filling clay to puddle about the cave - had Mr. Husband he wanted Robert Schofield and Joseph Sharpe to help to pull down James Greenwood’s house at the Conery - breakfast at 9 ½ and out again in about an hour - took John Booth and went to see about the tidying in the coach house chamber - all right - long talk to John - George wanted to know if I had said anything - no! he said he had had enemies - folly - I said he had no enemies that I knew of but himself - his temper his great enemy - the wrong time of year for getting him a place in London - afraid I could not get him one - he must try what he could for himself - but he should not be turned out of doors without somewhere to go to - Robert Mann + 2 at the cave puddling and Wood + 2 at the pool (set the large ackerspire last night, righted it, and set another against up to it this morning and rocked up the floor about the drain outlet) - and in the afternoon removing to the other side of the bridge the large rag bottoms taken up from out of the pool, ready for covering up the head of the long water-drift - Robert Mann here this morning but poorly and went away about 10 to the doctor back and here all the afternoon - A- rode to Cliff hill about 3 pm and back about 5 - I all the day busy at the pool - rocking up about the drain outlet a sort of rock-floor just over the end of the drain and in front of the archway and a little over the pool-rocks on the east - did not come in till 6 40 very much heated - dressed - dinner at 7 - coffee - told George when he brought in coffee I might go to London now .:. could not take him there and saw no likelihood of getting him a place - he must look out for himself - spoke to Mrs. Briggs - uncertain about going or staying - should know in

SH:7/ML/E/19/0075

a day or 2 - would tell her how it was decided as soon as I knew myself much obliged to her - if at home there really would not be room for us all - she said she could go at any time and would do anything she could for me - very civil - I said there might be many things she could oblige me in, and I should never hesitate to apply to her, quite sure she would do anything for me she could - out about 8 ½ sauntering about the pool - Joseph Mann came to me, meaning to see me for the last time before setting off - told him I now thought the journey put off and perhaps, if I could not get off in a fortnight, till Xmas - Long talk - the 2 heads (drifts from Listerwick pit to Walker pit) will be 800 yards long - cannot do more than 1 ½ yard per day .:. will take 2 years - the coal will do something more than pay for driving - if we were to work night and day, there would want another gin-horse to work in the night - I must think about this - would it not be better to be at this additional expense than lose a year? A- and I walked in the garden etc from about 9 ½ to 10 then with my aunt ¼ hour - finish but dull day - a shower and then a little drizzling rain between 4 and 6 pm F55° now at 10 ¾ pm - Robert Schofield and Joseph Sharpe began relaying the causeway this morning to be 2ft. from the newly rebuilt road-wall in front of the house but Mr. Husband took them about 9 to help Booth the mason to pull down James Greenwood’s cottage at Conery to get the low sandstone room window frame for the old coach house (phaeton house) to be the housekeeper’s bedroom and where my aunt is to sleep when she leaves her present room (the red room) while the hall stairs are widened and the hall newly done up - the phaeton house great doors taken down early this morning and preparation made for the window - the cave finished roofing tonight

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eeriesthetic · 9 months

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Day 7

Been doing this for a week now, go me.

I'd almost talked myself into not setting up the hotbox yesterday, rationalizing that it would be best to set it inside the shower stall where it'd both be out of the way and easy to douse if it caught on fire (yay paranoid tendencies), and the stall was still damp. However, I spotted *several* bedbugs on the outfit I'd been wearing for bed, which meant chances were high that there were hidden ones I couldn't see that would be inside the clothes and biting me if I put them on. Even if there weren't, I'd feel phantom crawling all night. So I did a test run with just the two pieces of clothing to see if the hotbox even worked.

It took 15 minutes to heat up to the killing point (110ºC), and I left them in for somewhere between 40 and 50 minutes after that. When I pulled them out they didn't seem as hot as when I pull things out of the dryer in the middle of a cycle, so I wasn't 100% sure they heated properly, but I did spot toasted bedbugs, and it was getting late, so I went ahead and wore them for bed.

Head covers should be in today. My thrice-weekly online meeting starts at 6PM tonight, so I'll be doing that as soon as I get home, but while that is happening I'll put my sleepwear and at least one Squishmallow in the hotbox for a couple of hours. I'll also put the thermometer sensor inside of the clothing, for better accuracy.

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datonebird · 1 year

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Finding a new career - Chapter 1

Wow I can't believe I made a new tumblr. Somewhere out there my old tumblr is still alive, and I am determined to find it.... Anyways! Welcome to my journey in changing my career. I wanted to make a video series with this, which I am still going to do, but for now I just want to put my thoughts down somewhere that I can access. I could have used my notes app on my laptop but I think, this makes me feel like I'm actually writing for an audience.

okay! enough rambling on, let's just get to it. I am on a journey to change and enter a new career. Long story short, I have been a business owner for the past 6 years and during those years I had some part time and full time jobs to help sustain myself as my business was in its growing stages. Eventually, I entered the business full time and after some extremely painful experiences, I decided for myself that this is not really what I want to do for the rest of my life. That decision was liberating. I still remember how confident I felt, and I really hade no doubts. Don't get me wrong, the thought of giving it all up was present all the time during my time owning the business, but it never felt this real. So I trusted myself and I said hey let's go with this feeling, there's obviously a reason why I feel this way. I've never felt so decisive in my life and honestly it was exciting! I was excited to enter a new era, rediscover myself, and become my old self again once I find that. So somewhere in October, I began my journey in finding my career. I had some leads -- which I was extremely excited about and I was determined to put my all to it. I told myself -- a few years ago I didn't think that I would ever be where I am today with owning a small business, it took some work though and a lot a lot a lot a lot of time but I did make it where I was set out to be. My first lead So there was this event production company that I came across with in 2021 - and I had previously applied to it that year - but didn't get the job, obviously. However, I continued to be connected with them through various freelance opportunities here and there. I worked at a number of events for them and even helped out in the back end with some administrative tasks. I stayed connected with them until now. Around the time that I decided to change my career - they were also hiring for new team members. So I told myself ok, let's go for it. I spend hours and days in between the studio and teaching working on my design deck, cover letter, and resume. The first position that I was applying for was for the "Event Coordinator" position. I submitted an application because I saw it on their website, even way before they started promoting it on social media. I thought "hope this paints me as a proactive person!" Then one day, I noticed that the role got taken down from the website. I panicked and THEN I kid you not as I was panicking I get a text from the CEO, who again I've been in contact with all this time as a freelancer, asking me if I was available to work one of their events in December. I of course said yes, and I also took the opportunity to ask about the job. Apparently, the position was given to one of her contractors and she said "but there's contract positions still open." At this point I was still panicking, and I was like okay yeah I'll apply for the contract but you know what I'll also apply for the other full time position that is RIGHT up my alley. "Executive Assistant" I told myself, okay I've been operating a business for 6 years. I've been assisting my business partners in operating our business for 6 years. The job description was like 50% operations and 40% event planning and so I said okay! let's do this. So I kids you now, I ran, not walked to my laptop. cooked up a new cover letter, and this time I just pasted that cover letter straight in the email and I sent TWO applications. Because I basically wanted to show them hey I just want to work here, I don't care what position you give me. So, eventually I get a reply, like a week later I think. I got scheduled an interview, bing, bang, boom and now we're here. The interview was on December 2nd, 2022. Today is January 3rd, 2022. So it's been a month since I've had the interview, and I still haven't heard back. I'm beginning to lose hope already.

Actually, I started to lose hope even way before Christmas. There was a couple things that happened that just told me like, I don't feel like I'm gonna be the person that they're looking for. Despite and amazing experience and performance that I did for the event that she asked me to work in December, and how great I felt after the interview. I feel like it may just not be a good fit. Friends and partners told me to look around for other opportunities, or think about a backup plan. Which was really difficult to do because I REALLY want this job, and doing that just felt like It was there was no change and that was my reality. It brought me to spiral into a period of depression. Right around the corner of Christmas.... on December 20th, I get an email saying that their team didn't get a chance to sync up and finalize things and she's on the way to Mexico. So she said that they are looking to get back to people early next week after Christmas. However, they also were throwing their anniversary party and the CEO's birthday party that week, so I was personally invited. So Christmas happened and then the next week came in, I was predicting maybe getting a reply on Tuesday - because that's what "early" next week meant to me. Then Tuesday past, nothing.... Wednesday past, and I'm pretty sure they're busy with the anniversary party and if they did meet that day to finalize things, ok I may receive a response that day. Wednesday passes and then it was the next day which was the anniversary party. For sure no reply there, Friday comes and I'm pretty sure, they weren't going to do any work after the party and it was also her birthday. Then the weekend comes, the NEW YEAR comes. and now we're here. Tuesday. Throughout the weekend and yesterday, I finally accepted things. If I really got the job, I felt like it would be such good news that they wouldn't have been able to tell me. It would have been something they mentioned during the anniversary party. but nothing --- So I figured okay, time to move forward. This feels like more of an introduction piece. but that's okay. I feel like this is chapter 1 - I'm currently entering chapter 2. Sending a bunch of applications and getting some replies so we'll see how this era goes. and i'll be back for chapter 2!

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years

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The Call

This was another request: So y/n is younger than Cill, she overs here's a call he's on with his management basically trying to convince him to leave her, so she goes upstairs to pack up because well she's not staying around when she's not wanted & Cillian finds her doing this and he's like no no no let me show me how much I want you around 😉

Warnings - talk of separation, smut

Turning the key in the lock you carefully opened the door as quietly as possible. Knowing Cillian, he was taking a nap in the lounge and you didn't want to disturb him. 12 hour days filming six days a week, he'd come home yesterday completely exhausted.

Instead of his light snoring, you were surprised to hear him talking on Skype to his agent in the study across the hallway. You smiled, before making your way to the door to let him know you were home, bottle of wine in hand when you froze.

"So, I'd get more scripts if I wasn't with y/n?" You heard Cillian ask his agent. You didn't move, you could barely breathe.

"Cillian, this is having a severe impact on your credibility! Producers aren't taking you seriously anymore, they're seeing you as a sugar daddy! Y/n is barely out of university, and you're pushing 50 here!" His agent was almost laughing.. you were sure you even heard Cillian chuckle at one point.

"Right... So it looks like we've got this all figured out then doesn't it?"

"Absolutely!! It's so simple Cill, everyone loves a single Dad!"

You'd heard enough. Tears burning your eyes, you tiptoed up the stairs, still with the wine in your hand, and made your way to your bedroom. Once you were sure you were out of earshot you allowed a sob to leave you as you leaned against the closed door, before grabbing an overnight bag from the closet. Taking a deep breath, and opening the wine to take a quick slug from it, you started to pack. All those times he'd told you he loved you... You completed him... Lies! He'd exchange you for Hollywood in a heartbeat!!! Well no... This wasn't going down that way - there's no way he's breaking YOUR heart when you can break HIS first....

Taking another swig from the bottle you took another deep breath and continued packing, not realising how loud your footsteps had become. The bedroom door suddenly swung open, and Cillian stood in the doorway, completely confused.

"Er... Y/n? Everything okay up here? I didn't hear you come home?"

"I didn't want to disturb your call.. you sounded busy." You voice was as deadpan as you could make it. You couldn't even look at him.

"Are you going somewhere?" You stopped, tears escaping your eyes too quickly to stop them.

"I heard you... I heard the call Cillian..."

"What call?" He approached you from behind and tried to put his arms around you but you pulled away. Turning to face him, you brought a hand up to slap the side of his face. "The fuck y/n?!?" You'd never slapped him before.. part of you felt an instant regret but the anger was burning inside you.

"Don't fucking play dumb with me, I heard you!! You'd get more scripts if you didn't have the 25year old homewrecker on your arm! You'd be more credibility as a single Dad!" Cillians eyes widened.. no... No no no..

"How much of that call did you hear, exactly?"

"Enough!!"

"Wrong!! You didn't hear fucking HALF of it!! You didn't hear me end the call, did you?" His voice raised now. "When I told him never to call me again. Never to even claim to represent me. That he was fired?? Did you hear that??" You stood frozen again, looking into his eyes. Your tears were drying up, but his looked close to spilling. "To have someone try and tell me how to live my life... Tell me who I can and can't spend my life with... he did the same thing with Natalie.. he wants me to be an eternal bachelor... that my career would take off if I wasn't seeing someone 20 years younger..." His voiced cracked at the thought of losing you.

"It worked with Natalie. Yes, she was the mother of my kids, but there was never a real connection with her.. I allowed it to happen without realising he was responsible for it... But you? I can't live without you y/n... The age difference has never bothered me.." he walked towards you again, pulling the bottle of wine out your hand and placing it on the chest of drawers in the corner. Picking the handles up on the overnight bag on your bed and throwing it to the floor. Needed it out of the way for what he was about to do.

"How do I know you won't change your mind one day? How do I know you mean it? You could trade me in for a younger model one day!"

"I'll show you how much I want you, and will always want you - close your eyes." His voice took a darker tone now, which always drove you wild. You closed you eyes as you felt his lips slowly start to kiss down your neck.. he turned you back round again so your back was pressing against his chest, as his fingers began to unbutton your blouse. "Keep them closed, baby..." He saw your eyelids flutter in the full length mirror in front of you both. He pulled your blouse off and let it fall to the floor, swiftly followed by your bra. Your jeans and panties soon came down your legs too, and he brought himself back up minus his T shirt.. his now bare chest hair tickling your back making you giggle.

His hands explored your upper whole body... Pressing your breasts, kneading them gently and loving hearing the moans of complete passion emitting from your beautiful lips... Before sinking a hand down to rest between your thighs, gently tapping them to allow him access. Happily granting it, he sunk a finger down to collect as much moisture as he could before circling your clit expertly, knowing exactly how to make you squirm underneath him. Holding you firmly round the waist with one hand, as the other mercilessly assaulted the small bundle of nerves between your legs, you squeezed your eyes closer together and allowed your head to fall back onto his shoulder. You couldn't move from the waist down, he had such a tight grip on you.

"Fuck... Cill... Keep going.. don't stop... Oh god..." He smiled, kissing into your bare neck as your moans became louder, he could feel your core burning now... You felt your orgasm screaming from inside as Cillian increased the pace.

"I've got you... Open those eyes baby.. watch yourself cum on my fingers, yeah?" You opened them to see yourself in the mirror, Cillians hand buried between your thighs and you couldn't help but feel the pure eroticism from it - fuck his hand looked good there.... Within seconds you could feel that orgasm approaching, no stopping it, it completely drowned you as your tried to buck your hips, held in place by Cillians strong arms. He swiftly inserted two fingers inside you, feeling your walls clench around them as you came hard over his hand. Twitching those fingers upwards slightly to find that sweet spot, making you cry out again.

"No more.... I wanna taste you now..." You span round to face him and kissed him, tongues clashing together as you fiddled with the buttons on his jeans - his erection clear as day through the fabric. They dropped to the floor and you followed, still in front of the mirror as you took him down your throat, teeth catching along the way gently. His hands coming to rest in your hair.

"Ah... Holy fuck y/n..." You groaned into his cock as your hands rolled his balls between your fingers, emitting more groans from above you. "Stop baby... Need to fuck you now y/n... Let me in yeah..." He lifted you up to stand again, before backing you onto the bed. Opening your legs he lined himself up and pushed inside, condoms long gone since you'd moved in together. If it happened, it happened.

Taking it slow, he moved his hips against yours, trying to find that sweet spot inside again. He heard you gasp, there it was. Your fingernails dug into his back, and his thrusts became almost maniacal - he was pounding you with reckless abandon now, making your screams echo off the walls. Thank fuck your neighbours weren't home... He wasn't holding back now - sitting up on his knees, he lifted your hips for deeper access, thumb rubbing your swollen clit to bring you your second orgasm. You clenched your cunt round his cock hard, squeezing him, watching his eyes squint and mouth gasp as you did..

"Need to cum y/n... Cum with me.... Let me feel it all over me...."

"I'm coming... I am... Baby I'm gonna..." You had no voice now as your second orgasm exploded through you, and Cillians followed with a loud groan as he collapsed on top of you, kisses raining back down your neck, gentler this time. Lifting his head to rest it over yours, he looked into your eyes softly.

"Don't ever feel like you're not enough for me y/n... Promise me?" You nodded in agreement.

"Don't trade me in for a younger model when I turn 40, and you've got a deal Mr Murphy." You tried to hold back a laugh but couldn't help it, both of you now chuckling.

"Don't get Botox or any of that crazy weird shit, and you've got a deal."

"Don't be coming near me with ANYTHING from Ann Summers, and you've got a deal." He pouted. Clearly busted looking at the costumes online.

Both of you fell silent. A comfortable silence that you both sank into, before rolling under the covers to nap together.

"You're stuck with me now, you know that? I'm agentless, I might never work again!" He laughed again, and so did you.

"That's okay, save a fortune on childcare." He smiled. That was true. After spending so much time away from his boys as young kids, he was looking forward to spending as much time as possible with a new baby, if they were lucky enough to have one together. Despite his age, he felt he had plenty of time left for another baby.

"I hope it happens, you'll be an amazing mother y/n. I can't wait." A loving hand over your, for now empty, stomach, you felt butterflies. Embracing him as he lay behind you, you both fell into a deep sleep, surrounded by dreams of your own little family.

@queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @cloudofdisney @margoo0 @being-worthy

#cillian smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x you #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy #cillian x smut

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littledrummeraussie · 3 years

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Omg you’re doing requests with the prompts 🥺 if so, could it be Angst 24 & 36. Fluff 50 & 40 . If not feel free to ignore this! I’m just curious to see what you’ll do with them! ❤️

Thank you sweetie for the prompts! I hope you don’t mind me making this into a part of my on-going mini series! And since many of you wanted to see what is the relationship between these two - well, here’s a little taste. ❤️

Warnings: mentions of abuse in a past relationship. angst.

Also, you can still drop me prompts if you feel like it.

- - - - -

glitter & crimson masterlist | story tag | part 1 | part 2

- - - - -

ANGST – 24. “Let me go.”

ANGST – 36. “They warned me about this.” “About what?” “You.”

FLUFF – 40. “Why are you scared of loving?”

FLUFF – 50. “Stay.”

- - - - -

“Stay.”

Ashton’s eyes were still closed as he mumbled against the pillow, but his arm around you tightened just a little, letting you know that he did wake when you wanted to get out of his embrace. He fell asleep once the painkillers kicked in, but not before he curled a tattooed arm around your waist, pulling you close to his body while keeping some space between the two of you. Your sleep was fitful, dreams and memories keeping you awake while he slumbered next to you, and after a few hours you couldn’t stay in bed, wanting to find something else to focus on until you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore.

“Didn’t want to wake you,” you sighed, settling back against your pillow and lightly brushing a stray curl away from his forehead.

“You’re a terrible sleeper,” Ashton finally opened his eyes, sleepy gaze finding yours in the grey of the room.

“It’s just… my head is full. Can’t switch it off.”

“What’s keeping you awake?” he mirrored your movements, slowly stroking the hair behind your ear, fingers cupping your cheek.

“They warned me about this,” you whispered, hand covering his bruised one on your face.

“About what?” Ashton furrowed his eyebrows and you let out another quiet sigh.

“You.”

The last hour had been a blur as you pulled clothes out of drawers and closets, throwing everything you could fit into the bags on the bed. You didn’t dare look into the mirror, not after what happened in the kitchen with your boyfriend. The loud banging of the closing door let you know that he left the house and that’s when you found yourself in your shared bedroom, packing everything that belonged to you. Tonight was the last straw and you couldn’t stay for another minute if you didn’t have to.

You let your eyes wander over the place one last time as you shut the front door, throwing the key into the mailbox – you knew you’re never coming back again. You hauled up your bags and started to walk down the street, the tears freely running down your cheeks as you left everything behind. You had nowhere to go; all your friends lived on the other side of the country, and you kicked the curb as you scolded yourself – your own foolish choices made you end up in this situation, and now you had nothing.

“Hey, you’re okay there?”

The guy you just passed stopped in his track and turned after you, his voice soft but questioning as you picked up the pace. You didn’t want to talk to anyone. You didn’t want anyone to see the mess you were now. A mumbled ‘I’m fine’ left your lips, pulling your jacket tighter, hoping he will get your message loud and clear.

A moment passed then you heard footstep coming after you, the heavy boots thumping on the pavement as he quickly caught up with you, fingers curling around your arm and pulling you back to him.

“Let me go,” your voice sounded more panicked than protesting, and at that he finally pulled away.

“I’m sorry, I just– what happened to your face?”

You felt fresh tears streaming down your face as he tilted your chin up towards him, examining you in the light of the streetlamp. He looked handsome and dangerous but soft around the edges as he took in the purpling bruise on your cheek and the split on your bottom lip, gaze turning concerned as his eyes finally found yours.

“Who did this to you?” he let go of you when he saw how disturbed you are and you wrapped your arms around your chest, hiccupping and brushing away your tears.

“Boyfriend… I mean, ex boyfr– I don’t know who he is, not anymore.”

“Do you have anywhere to stay? I could drop you off, I see you packed everything,” he nodded towards your bags, but you quickly shook your head.

“Thanks, but… I’m sure you have better things to do. And I don’t want to be rude, but you’re a stranger – who knows what you’re capable of…” you took a step back and he let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Good point. But you look like someone who needs a bit of a company and a place to stay, away from that asshole. I have a friend who could take you in for a little time, even though you are just as much a stranger as I am.”

“And why would you do that? There’s no way you don’t want something in return,” you winced as you bit into your bottom lip.

“I don’t know, I just can’t let you stay out like this in this state,” he groaned, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s my conscious or something. Like if I go away now and you spend the night on the streets and something happens…”

“God, you’re so weird,” you sighed, hauling up your bag on your shoulder. “I’m gonna regret saying yes to you.”

“You won’t, I promise,” he reached for your other bag to sling it over his back, holding his hand out for you. “By the way, I’m Ashton.”

“Y/N,” you let him shake your hand before he nodded down the road.

“Nice to meet you. My car is parked just there, if you would be so kind and follow me.”

“And where are you taking me?” you trailed after him, still not sure if you were doing the right thing.

“Somewhere safe,” Ashton gave you an encouraging smile, and you felt your lips pull at the corners when he threw you a wink.

“What stray did you bring here again?” the girl was gorgeous and definitely pissed as Ashton ushered you into the apartment.

“Come on Mali, be nice,” he scoffed, putting your bag down in the hallway. “She needs a place to stay, just for a little while.”

“What about your place?” she quirked an eyebrow at Ashton, hands on her hips. “Or did you forget your latest one there and you don’t want them to meet each other?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… gonna take a minute,” he gave you an apologetic look before he pulled Mali into another room and started to ramble in a hushed voice.

You could barely make out his words, but you caught a few of them anyway – ex-boyfriend, bruises, abuse. Mali kept mostly quiet, hissing whenever Ashton’s voice got louder. They were going back and forth for a few minutes before finally they came back, and he curled an arm around your shoulder.

“You can stay with Mali as long as you need it,” he lightly squeezed your arm, giving a pointed look to the blonde who just rolled her eyes. “And I will stop by tomorrow to check on you. How does that sound?”

“Like something she’s not excited about,” you nodded towards the girl who at that started laughing.

“Get out of here, Irwin,” he shooed Ashton away from you and out of the door. “I’ll take care of her. You go and fuck up someone else’s life now, okay?”

“Love you Mali, you’re the best!” he threw her a kiss and Mali pointed a finger gun at him, shooting him and closing the door, but not before he could wave at you one last time. “Bye, Y/N! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Let’s get you settled, shall we?”

Mali turned out to be an angel. She made up the guestroom for you and sent you away to take a shower, during which she made you some dinner. Before you could turn in for the night, tired from all the things that happened in the last few hours, she came in to tend to the bruises on your face, checking them before applying some antiseptics on your lips and the small cuts you didn’t see before.

“So… how do you know Ashton?” you finally asked, and she chuckled, shaking her head.

“He’s my brother’s best friend. Annoying little shit, but he grows on you. Can’t say no to a pretty girl in distress. Or well, girls in general.”

“I really didn’t want to disturb you, I’m sorry,” you mumbled but she just shook her head again.

“We’ve all been there,” she squeezed your hand, giving you a smile. “And none of us deserved it. If you needed do get out of there, well… then you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to. And just so you know, Ashton is very protective of his own. You’ll probably become one of them if you stick around long enough. Just– don’t fall for him.”

“I don’t think that’s on the plate,” you pointed at your own cheek. “Kinda not in the mood for guys now.”

“It’s just a friendly warning,” Mali patted you knee before standing up. “He’s a nice guy. But it’s better to be his friend than anything else. You’ll never see him with the same girl twice. That’s his style: charming, but dangerous.”

Ashton sighed but didn’t pull back, hand still cupping your cheek as he lay beside you. A year has passed since the night he found you on the street, broken and bruised after the way your ex-boyfriend treated you. And while the two of you became close friends, you always made sure not to catch feelings for the guy who was only referred to as a womanizer around the neighbourhood. Or so you’ve told yourself.

“That’s typical Mali,” he scoffed lightly, running his fingers through his hair.

“It doesn’t really matter,” you shrugged, sitting up on the bed and pulling your knees to your chest.

“It does to me,” he pushed himself up and sat cross-legged in front of you. “Y/N… hey, look at me.”

“Don’t tell me again, please,” you whispered, trying to be as small as possible. “Please just… don’t.”

“Tell you what? That I love you?” he squeezed your knee, a slight hurt in his voice. “I’m not gonna take it back – I love you. I just don’t know why are you scared of loving me?”

“You know, Ashton. You know why I can’t.”

- - - - -

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#ashton irwin #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin blurb #fiction time #asks: fiction edition #prompt list: 2 #afic: glitter & crimson #series: glitter & crimson

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dallonm-archive · 3 years

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TABBY | SHORT STORY UPDATES #4

In Tabby, a reclusive man who’d rather exist as a phantom than a human notices the neighbours aren’t feeding their cat, and is sucked into a world that breaks the stillness of his own.

Genre: literary fiction, “soft” noir (??)

POV: 1st person present, very observational and detached for most of the narrative

Setting: late 1940s/early 1950s, unnamed US city but implied to be Los Angeles

Atmosphere: a summer that’s sickly, orange juice, the smell of paint, shaky hands, peach skies, sunflowers, blood splatter, a cats purr, the gut feeling that something is very, very wrong

Literal Logline: this cat is my friend and he doesn’t judge me over silly little things like the murder i just committed (also i think he might be god??)

Hi I wrote a story about a cat and got way too into it and accidentally made it about murder and now it might be my favourite thing I’ve written! Lets talk about it! cw for murder and blood imagery!

general taglist ; @kowlazovdi @avi-burton-writing @ryns-ramblings @melpomeny @kitblogsthings @ezrathings @aetherwrites @bookphobe @haldimilks @alicewestwater @bookpacking @shaelinwrites @writingamongthecoloredroses @harehearts @zemnian @onlyganymede @theelectricfactory @write-like-babs @oceancold @notphilosopherstudentblog @veiliza @sidhewrites @wolf-oak @feverdreamwritings @oasis-of-you

This entire story sparked from this photo, which I couldn’t find a specific source for, but is cute and a Mood nonetheless!

My thought process was essentially “man sits on bench with cat...........and also.......murder?” I don’t know why my brain is like this!!!

I imagine this story being set in the late 40s/early 50s, but haven’t pinpointed exactly, in a suburb of Los Angeles (but this also isn’t clear in the story as of now). This used to be my go to setting when I was really into noir, and it was fun to return to that in a non-noir piece! This started out as purely literary, but now I do see some noir elements here. They’re just very subtle - nor was I intentionally trying to capture any - and the story misses some of the fundamental conventions. To me it’s almost like...soft noir? Noir lite?? I feel like it’s inherently noir and inherently not noir at the same time but I love the vibes of it a lot. There’s this “glow” to the story that I can’t exactly put into words, like a very subtle golden hour that is very tranquil and strangely undisturbed by the general chaos going on in the actual story

I took this setting, the vibes, and the idea of a character with an innate connection to this cat, plus a murder chucked somewhere in the middle and ran with it.

I wrote this over the course of a couple days, and it came very naturally! The prose is a little more sparse than my usual writing which made the process much quicker, and I’m really into this style at the moment. A lot of it is also internal thought, which y’all know is right up my alley. I really, really love the voice in this. It starts very unremarkable, but there is an unsettling undercurrent that grows and grows and it’s been very fun to blend the mundane and the creepy. This story really reignited my drive for short fiction because the trend lately has been coming up with an idea I love that just doesn’t translate on paper, but this one despite needing a good deal of work was very smooth!

I’d say this is my first successful attempt at a nameless/faceless character and it’s one of the most interesting experiences of character development I’ve had in a long time?? The only other time I’ve done this is in my story Rinse Cycle, but the narrator never really felt much like a character (which is very unusual for me), whereas the narrator in Tabby feels as fleshed out and nuanced as any of my characters with names or faces. I rarely focus on appearances for short story characters anyway, but I’ve never struggled with finding a name for a character and this narrator just Does Not want to be named. But I think that really fits him! He likes to be invisible and drift through life unnoticed, where he is merely an observer rather than a participant; so when he does get chucked into the middle of a very messy, very chaotic situation he essentially shuts down. I really like the tonal shift this creates where we go from a very detached narrative to very in the moment, very vivid and intense, like we go from 0 to 100 real quick. I don’t want to share a lot of plot details (which makes writing this a little frustrating sigh), but it ends with him committing a murder that, whilst intentional in the moment, is entirely impulsive and practically out of his control. He is not a natural killer and goes from barely being an emotional participant in his life to fully immersed in the moment and absolutely terrified by that. I’m really looking forward to digging deeper into his psychological state as I work on this draft because Boy We Don’t Have Time To Unpack All This. A quick summary of him would be though

people watcher, picks up more than he realises

living in a house he inherited from his dead father

made eye contact with a stranger and it was physically painful

quietly unhinged

doesn’t feel like he’s a person

oh no, now i have to face the consequences of my actions!

I’m trying to limit the amount of excerpts I post when it comes to short stories [because I am always basing the value of my content on prose I share which is! not healthy!], so the only writing I’m going to share is this little description that’s not very plot relevant, but is a good demonstration of this narrator’s funky little voice:

Every morning, at seven sharp, I routinely sit on the swinging bench behind my house to eat over easy eggs and burnt sausages. I still don’t understand how to cook meat. Behind me, cars murmur and sputter into the city, housewives chatter from their separate square gardens and I do not exist in the same reality as them. I am boxed in by off-white picket fence. The fence dividing my neighbours and I – a saffron coloured house with sunflowers bordering the perimeter – is painted pinkish red like an infected tongue. Every morning, I routinely think, that I do not know what’s stranger: how the red jolts the sun house’s otherwise harmonious existence, or the way the job was never finished. It’s not as if the painter died, because if the painter died there would be a corpse; perhaps blood spatter would darken against red wood, perhaps paint would pool out of the dropped can and mimic the presence of an exit wound.

Y’all might be wondering, where does the cat fit in all of this? And the answer is it’s complicated! In terms of form, we bounce between observations/interactions of the cats behaviour and the “main plot” of the story - which is to do with the rather unhinged new neighbours disrupting our neighbours unremarkable life. Thematically, the cat definitely symbolises a lot of things and opens up a lot of conversations that I still haven’t polished because well, we’re on draft one and I was focused on some funky Cat Descriptions. Some fun ideas include the distinction between human and animal, how capitalism is impeding on our chances to live a fulfilled life, and the idea that all humans do is overcomplicate everything. It’s presence also acts as a grounding technique for the narrator, since he so easily detaches himself from the rest of the world. The writing started with a scene of the act killing a mouse and how clean and simple it all is that I’m lowkey obsessed with, and is definitely some non-subtle foreshadowing for what comes later.

I like to joke that the cat is God because sometimes the narrator says some weird shit like, how the Earth stops orbiting the sun when the cat goes to sleep and how the cat doesn’t need to worry about predators because it hasn’t invented any. So the cat is not officially “God” but like,...,,It Might Be

Quickly adding this to the end but! Your girl finally has a (working title) for her collection! I’m not ready to share it yet because I’m still not 100% on it, I feel it matches the stories thematically but not always tonally, however it captures the core idea that I’ve been following so it’s good enough for me. This was a really important step because as much as I tried I could Not Visualise a collection at all without a title, which is v annoying because titling a collection is the worst!!! I was fine just writing short stories and letting them exist but I really wanted to build them as a cohesive collection as I went, and now I really like where it’s going - it’s definitely got a long way to go but I feel like I’ve finally managed to take control of it and steer it into a direction that reflects what I enjoy to write. I spent a lot of months clinging onto the collection I started in late 2018 before The Great Writing Hiatus Of 2019, even though it really didn’t resonate with me anymore, so I’m very happy to feel like I’m now on the right path and I feel the collection really shows my growth as a writer this year! This is definitely not set in stone, but I have a lot of fun imagining the potential order of the stories and right now it looks like:

[Some of these are stories unfinished, and some of them are finished and I just haven’t talked about them because I am the Worst at remembering to write short story updates, but tbh I’m thinking of just talking about them all briefly in a big post about the collection when I write a proper intro for it in the future]

We love to see it! I’m hoping to put a lot of time into this collection in 2021 and get some submissions rolling too (I had the goal of submitting at least one story by the end of this year and I! Don’t know if that’ll happen but January definitely). I’m likely going to be taking most of the year out of uni due to the whole global and mental turmoil rn [also I’d have to apply for writing masters atm and that is NOT happening lmfao], so I’m v v excited to have some extra writing time and see where this all goes!

#atlastracking #am writing #short stories #writeblr #i am once again posting at an odd time when my dash is ~dead~#also playing around w how i format these posts as always

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hogarthwrites · 3 years

Text

if you want it you got it forever

pairing: samuel drake/reader (m/f)

genre: smut

warnings: graphic sex

words: 1,604

summary:

You and Sam have a nice Valentine's evening together.

note:

Hello! Back with some smut. It's a day late but I hope you all enjoy it! Happy Valentine's Day!!

Sam said no one's ever given him flowers, and you made it your mission to remedy that for Valentines. Despite the cold weather, you were able to find a nice bouquet of roses that you held onto as you made your way to Sam’s apartment.

He had invited you over, and even though Samuel Drake could be a romantic, he rarely ever went all out. So you were quite surprised as you walked into his apartment and it was dimly lit and petals littered the floor.

“Sam?” You called out and he peeped out of the kitchen.

“Shit, you're already here?” He went back to the kitchen and you followed him in to see him staring at a pan.

“I'm gonna give up on this,” he pouted. “Chloe’s curry recipe just isn’t working for me.”

You looked at the burnt food, and kissed him on the cheek. This made him feel a little better, but he felt bad he couldn’t even go through with making you the romantic dinner he had planned in his head.

“Why don’t we order some pad thai again?” You suggested. “I’m sure you have wine somewhere and we can watch those DVD’s we haven’t gotten through.”

“That could work,” Sam nodded.

“Oh these are for you,” you held up the bouquet.

“What?” He gave you a lopsided smile. “For me?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Happy Valentine’s day, Sam.”

His hand was on your waist as he pulled you in for a kiss.

You ended up watching 50 First Dates after an intense debate between Wedding Crashers and The 40 Year Old Virgin . You leaned into Sam as he had an arm around your shoulders. The flowers you gave him were placed in his watering can, with Sam promising to buy a vase for it in the morning.

“That was... cute,” you looked up at him when the movie ended.

“I mean, if you’re okay with traumatizing your spouse every morning with a tape telling them they have memory loss and they’re married to some guy they don’t know,” he shrugged.

“God, Sam,” you laughed. “Okay, you have a point.”

“Of course I do,” he looked smug.

You moved up to kiss him, softly at first, but as the kiss deepened, he pulled you into his lap. He moaned softly as you started grinding against him, feeling as he started getting hard under you. Your lips moved down to his neck, following the tattooed birds, down to the base of his neck.

“Alexa, play Cruisin’ by Smokey Robinson,” he said out loud, much to your surprise.

The song started playing and you couldn’t help but laugh into Sam’s neck. “Seriously?”

“Come on, I’m just setting the mood, baby,” he kissed you again. This time his hands slid under your shirt, cupping your breasts. “Is it working?”

“You think?” You continued to grind against him, sighing as his lips met your neck.

You slid your hand under his shirt as well, feeling the hair on his chest. His hips bucked in anticipation when you pulled his shirt off.

“Excited?” You slid your hands up and down his thighs.

“You think?” He chuckled, biting his lip as you undid his jeans and pulled them down.

You slid your hand up and down his cock, watching every reaction he made. His hair tangled in your hair as you took the tip of his cock in your mouth, enjoying his taste.

“That’s right, baby,” he sighed. “You look so good.”

Encouraged, you bobbed your head up and down his length faster and Sam gently pulled on your hair. You pulled away, looking up at him and kissing the tip of his cock, pre-cum smearing your lips.

“Do you like it when I do this?” You swirled your tongue around and ran your thumb over it.

“Hmm,” Sam threw his head back in pleasure.

You took his cock in your mouth again, grabbing onto his thighs as he started thrusting up into your mouth. He pulled you back up on his lap and kissed you hard.

“More,” you groaned as you began grinding against his crotch. “Give me more, Sam.”

“How do you want it, baby?” Sam nibbled on your earlobe.

“However you want me.”

He pulled your shirt off and you slipped out of your jeans. Sam took his time exploring your body, kissing every inch of your skin. His brown eyes met yours as he kissed your navel and gave you a smug grin. It was an all too familiar look he’d give you before eating you out for hours on end.

Sam licked your clit once, making you shiver at the cool that followed the wetness, turning you on even more. His tongue explored your pussy, sliding it in before drawing circles on your clit again. He loved the feeling of you planted against his face, holding your legs open for him.

His stubble was wet from your juices, but he didn’t stop until you were writhing and moaning under him. The sounds from your lips riled him on even more as he lapped up your cunt, his nose swiping up your slit to your clit.

“Oh, god, Sam, I’m gonna cum!” You pulled at his hair. Your orgasm was so close and you lifted your hips up to grind against his face, your moans filling the room, drowning out the song that was playing.

Sam kissed you as you came down from your high, tasting yourself on his lips and his tongue.

“You alright?” He whispered, caressing your hair softly.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “More, Sam.”

“Of course. I’m not done with you yet,” he purred.

You squealed as he pulled you up and kissed you again. His hands moved from your waist to your ass, which he squeezed before giving it a little slap.

You pushed him down on the sofa, running your fingers down his chest, admiring his body under you. You lifted your hips and guided his cock to your entrance, humming in delight as you lowered your hips and his thick cock filled you up.

Sam’s lower lip is pinned between his teeth as he watched you bounce up and down. You loved it when he watched you fuck him, as you took the reigns and set your own pace, his sultry eyes focused on only you.

“Fuck,” he smiled up at you. “Keep going, baby.”

You pushed down on his muscular shoulders and fucked him harder, making him groan loudly. You didn’t understand how you were always so wet around him. With past lovers, you never lasted as long as you would with Sam, and you definitely never came with as much frequency and intensity as you did with him.

He pulled you in for a kiss before wrapping his arms around you. You squealed as he slammed his hips up against yours and set a quick pace.

You bit down on his collar and your toes curled, feeling your orgasm come closer with every thrust Sam made.

“Sam,” you garbled. “I’m gonna cum.”

Sam paused and flipped you around on the bed, so he was on top. He grabbed your hips and continued to drill into you with such intensity you were at a loss for words. His eyes were wild with lust as he watched you writhe under him, moaning his name to encourage him more, desperate for both of your releases.

“I’m so close!” You grabbed at the cushions under you.

“Cum for me, baby,” Sam panted. His fingers sunk into your hips so hard that he left bruises.

Your toes curled and your back arched as you came around his prick, causing him to slow his movements as your pussy spasmed. As soon as he regained his senses, he slammed into you hard. Pleasure filled your senses, and you happily lay there, taking in every thrust.

“Oh, you feel so damn good,” he lay on top of you, giving you passionate open mouthed kisses.

Sam couldn’t think of anything other than to fill you with his seed, the thought egging him on more. As he neared his orgasm, his movements became more erratic and with one loud groan, he pushed deep as he could inside you and coated your insides with his sperm. He collapsed on top of you, softly kissing your cheek.

He didn’t pull out until he was able to catch his breath again and he took you in his arms. He continued kissing your neck and your shoulder, muttering sweet nothings in between.

You’re beautiful.

I can’t get enough of you.

Can’t believe how lucky I am .

You wrapped your arms around him, cradling him to your chest. Sam’s playlist had stopped playing long ago, so you could focus on listening to him breathe.

“Anyone ever told you you’re a great lay?” You ran your fingers through his hair.

“You tell me every time we have sex so I almost believe it,” he grinned.

“You should.”

“You spoil me.”

Sam was quiet for a while before he looked up at you.

“Thanks for spending Valentine’s with me,” he whispered. “I’ve never done this with anyone else before.”

“Really? Not even with past ex-lovers?"

“Not like this,” he intertwined his fingers with yours and kissed your fingers. "This feels different."

“We could do this every year,” you quietly said. “If you want to, that is.”

“I’d love that.”

You were overcome with fatigue as Sam kissed you softly. He pulled the fleece blanket over both of you as you fell asleep and he stroked your hair back from your face.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he whispered. “Happy Valentine’s, sweetheart.”

#sam drake x reader #sam drake #samuel drake #uncharted fanfiction

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mrsluttystark · 4 years

Text

Repeat After Me Part 2

Part 1

You guys have no idea how much it meant to me that part 1 was so well received. Thank you from the bottom of my little starker heart!

Tags: nff, age difference, former teacher/student, mention of daddy kink, mention of choking

Word count: 3.1k

Read below the cut

Peter wakes up five minutes before his alarm, like he always does. He absolutely hates the shrill screech of it. His bed creaks and groans as he sits up and swings his legs over the side. Suddenly, the springs that had previously been holding him up collapse under him, making him yelp in surprise. Peter made a mental note that maybe it was time for a new bed, he’d been holding on to the rickety twin mattress he had all his childhood since it was the only thing he had left from May’s.

He usually went into the lab on Saturdays, even though he was supposed to be off during the weekend. It’s not like he has plans or anything, but he guesses he could shift his schedule around a little to go mattress shopping.

His arm darts out like clockwork and taps his screen to turn the alarm off before his phone could utter the first mind melting ring. Peter runs a hand through his hair to brush some stray curls out of his face and stretches before getting out of bed to do his morning routine.

It’s not until Peter sits down at his two-seater dining table with a bowl of captain crunch berries, two pieces of toast, and a cup of earl gray tea, does he finally check his phone.

The spoon is barely out of his mouth when he sees the notifications. Eyes wide, he chokes on the cereal trying to force its half chewed self down his throat. He can taste the oat milk is his nose and it is not good.

Mr. Stark accepted his friend request and messaged him? Peter looked around his apartment, skeptical. Was he dreaming? Was this one of those life-like dreams where he gets ready for the day then wakes up and has to do it all over again? He looked down at his arm, should he pinch himself? No, Peter, that’s stupid.

He shook his head and looked at his phone again, opening the Messenger app.

Hey, Kid.

Shit, he was toast. Collecting himself, Peter took a deep breath to prepare himself for a conversation with his former high school teacher (that he may or may not want to fuck him senseless and cuddle afterward). He racked his brain thinking about how to approach this. Should he be bold?

Hi, Daddy. Please cum down my throat? Yeah...that might be too bold.

Hello, Mr. Stark. I humbly thank you for accepting my friend request. Ugh, too weird.

He’s overthinking it, he knows. Peter types out and deletes maybe five more messages before he finally settles on:

09:10 am

Hi, Mr. Stark. It’s Peter.

09:11 am

Parker.

Peter threw his phone down on the table and put his head in his hands, bowl of cereal soggy and forgotten. He made a face at it and pushed the bowl away, pulling his toast closer. He took bites of a slice distractedly and washed it down with some tea. He’d regret not eating a proper breakfast later, but right now his appetite was replaced with a turning feeling that he couldn’t quite place. His phone vibrates on the table, startling him from his thoughts.

From Tony Stark 09:22 am

Yeah, Peter. I did read your name on your profile.

09:23 am

Right. Sorry.

From Tony Stark 09:23 am

Don’t worry about it, Kid. Just pokin’ fun.

09:24 am

(sweating emoji)

Thanks for accepting my friend request btw, Mr. Stark.

From Tony Stark 09:26 am

No big deal, thanks for the request, it’s been a while.

And Tony is fine, you’re not my student anymore, Pete.

09:26 am

Yeah, okay. Tony. I can do that

So you remember me?

From Tony Stark 09:27 am

I remember all my students

09:27 am

Really???

From Tony Stark 09:28 am

No, not really lol

But I do remember you, you were a lot skinnier back then.

09:30 am

(eye roll emoji) And you were a lot younger

From Tony Stark 09:31 am

Ouch, that was uncalled for

09:32 am

You asked for it

So what have you been up to?

From Tony Stark 09:34 am

I’m a mechanical engineer now, quit teaching a few years ago. What about you?

09:35 am

That’s awesome! You were way too smart to be a teacher.

I’m a research chemist

From Tony Stark 09:38 am

Thanks, kid.

That’s about where I’d thought you’d end up, as smart as you are.

09:40 am

Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Stark

Tony*

Sorry.

From Tony Stark 09:40 am

Everywhere?

09:41 am

Everywhere.

From Tony Stark 09:50 am

Say, Pete. I don’t actually have a habit of checking this app and I’m about to head out of the house for the day. I’d like to continue this conversation, so here’s my number if you wanna text me [hidden contact information].

No pressure of course.

From Tony Stark 09:53 am

Peter?

New Message

To: Tony

You know who I am.

From: Tony

Had me there for a second kid.

I’m about to drive, I’ll text you in a bit.

Peter put his phone down for the first time in almost an hour, eyes straining to refocus after staring at his screen intensely for so long. His heart was pounding in his chest and his cheeks were starting to ache from smiling. Had that really happened? Peter brought a hand up to rub at his jaw, still in a daze. He was finding it very hard to believe that this wasn’t some elaborate dream because there is absolutely no way that this could’ve happened in real life. Talk about a glitch in the simulation.

He really got Tony Stark’s phone number, and he didn’t even have to ask for it!

Peter scoffed in disbelief, no fucking way! He opened the Facebook app again and went to Tony’s profile. Turns out there wasn’t much else on it, he had a total of 3 profile pictures and less than 100 friends, none of which were other students and only a few midtown teachers. So, he either was a very private person or he didn’t use Facebook at all. And if it was the latter (or both for that matter), why did he accept Peter’s friend request in the first place?

Peter decided not to think about it right now.

He went to his profile pictures and glanced at the current one he already studied last night. The previous one was just the Guns N’ Roses album cover for Appetite for Destruction. Classic Rock fan, noted. His first profile picture, though, was an absolute masterpiece. Tony looked to be on a beach somewhere, his hair was wet and messy from the clear blue salt water. Peter wanted to run his tongue over every inch of the olive toned skin exposed to the sun. His smile was radiant, framed by neatly trimmed facial hair, with thick, dark eyebrows peeking over his sunglasses. Swung low on his hips right below a toned stomach were hot rod red swim shorts that stopped in the middle of his thigh, showing off his tan legs dusted with dark hair.

Peter tried not to look, he really did, but he could not stop his eyes from landing on the older man’s crotch. And he was not disappointed. There, curving onto his thigh, was a long, thick unmistakable dick print. Peter’s mouth watered at the sight as his own cock stirred with interest.

Fuck. He wondered how big he really was in person. How far he could take it down his throat. He wanted to know how it would feel to be stretched and filled by Tony’s cock.

Scooting his chair back abruptly, Peter shot up off of it. His hard-on tenting almost painfully in his pajama pants and it was starting to create a wet spot. Mattress shopping can wait, Peter needed to cum, like, yesterday.

He rushes to his room and yanks the drawer of his night stand open, revealing a wooden box. Peter unlatches the box and grabs a bottle of lube and his veiny lifelike vibrating dildo with a suction cup right behind the silicone balls from his small collection. This one was by far his favorite, it’s eight inches long and he loved feeling the veins and the girth of it filling him up.

Peter lays a towel down on his bed and climbs to the middle, carefully avoiding the new dent in the mattress. He bunches up the pillows behind his back so he’s laying at an incline, then starts rubbing himself over his pajama pants while he uncaps the lube and squeezes some onto his fingertips. Clumsily, he pulls and shimmies his pants down his hips with his left hand, breath hitching when his heated erection makes contact with the cool air in his apartment. It lands with a light smack against his abs and Peter tugs his shirt up and under his chin. Kicking his pants off his bed, Peter spreads his legs. He can feel his hole puckering in anticipation of being used.

His left hand begins lightly skimming his torso, feeling his abs contract under his finger tips. Bringing them higher, he rubs across his chest, pinching his nipples softly. Peter rubs the lube between his thumb and forefinger to warm it up, then starts rubbing the tight ring of muscle in circles, making his cock jump.

Once he’s coated, he sinks a finger in slowly to coax himself open. His left hand continues caressing his body, skirting across the area right above his cock. Peter lets out a plethora of whines and pants, eyes screwed shut at the feeling. The image of Tony’s face urging him to take another finger.

He knows Tony’s fingers would be thicker, stretching him wider than Peter ever could with his own. The younger man hoped his former teacher would be able to handle him the way he wanted. Peter imagined large, strong hands encircling his throat while the other gripped hard on his hips while he took him.

Three of his fingers are buried deep in himself before he even touches his neglected, leaking cock. His left hand comes to collect the precum pooling at the head and dribbling down his shaft, allowing his hand to glide along his hot skin. He strokes himself lazily as he pulls his fingers out and reaches for the dildo. Uncapping the lube again he slicks up the silicone and brings it to his open, waiting hole.

Pulling his left hand off of his cock, Peter grabs one of the pillows and stuffs it under the small of his back.

He imagines Tony looking down at him with dark, analytical eyes, watching Peters every movement. The rise and fall of his chest, his heaving breaths. The way Peter keens when he’s stretched like he longs for the sting of it. Would he fuck into him slowly or would he seath himself in one smooth, quick stroke?

Peter chooses the latter.

He cries out as he pushes the dildo balls deep into his ass without pause. The pain from the stretch mixes deliciously with pleasure. Sweat beading on his forehead has Peter’s curls sticking wetly to his skin. His entire body is covered in a thin sheen of it.

The young man turns onto his left side, dildo still deep inside him. Peter reaches around his back with his right hand and grips the bottom of the suction cup. He sighs, easing the dildo out slowly before pressing the button at the base of the shaft to turn on the vibration and ramming it into himself once more.

Tony would be taking him from behind, a long arm encircling Peter’s body, hand coming to grip him at the base of his neck, right above his collarbone so that he could pull the younger man down and onto his thick cock while he fucks up into him.

Peter continued to fuck himself roughly with the dildo while he thought of Tony’s hard body doing it to him instead. He’d whisper dirty things in Peter’s ear while he fucked him. Tell him that he’s such a good little slut for his teacher. Peter whined at the thought, he’d love it if Tony let him call him Mr. Stark in bed.

He starts stroking his cock faster, feeling his orgasm build in the pit of his stomach. His right arm is starting to get tired from fucking the dildo into his ass for so long, he’s gotta cum soon.

Peter’s eyes fly open when he hears his phone vibrate through the thrumming in his ears. It’s a text from Tony.

How’s my favorite student? Miss me?

That does it. Peter’s entire body jolts as he cums all over his hand and the towel he laid on the bed, a high whine caught in his throat.

He’s still trying to catch his breath a few minutes later, after he eases the dildo out and places it on the towel. He wipes his hand off on it as well before he grabs his phone. He definitely needs a shower now. Then he’ll go to the mall.

To: Tony

Don’t flatter yourself

To: Tony

Maybe a little

Tony can’t help but smile at his phone, he might have been a little too eager with the message, typing it up as soon as he put his car in park. The easy banter going on between him and Peter was refreshing. Tony couldn’t remember the last time he felt genuinely excited to talk to someone, let alone text.

As the conversation kept flowing while Tony picked up his dry cleaning, he could only deduce that it was because they were nearly equal on an intellectual level. It may have helped that Peter was easy on the eyes as well.

They talked about their projects at work and the research behind it, what it was like at Columbia for Peter, and how MIT had been to Tony. The older man made a mental note to ask where Peter worked at a later date, maybe he could recruit him. He learned that Peter’s favorite colors were blue and red. That he hated horror movies but watched them anyway just to spite himself. He loved rom-coms and (surprise, surprise) sci-fi movies. He couldn’t cook to save his life, Tony assured him he could give him lessons if he wanted, he could make a mean Chicken Piccata.

Tony couldn’t even bring himself to feel guilty about it at all. The conversation was innocent and Tony was a flirt by nature, Pepper never had a problem with it. If anything, this thing with Peter was just a budding friendship. The universe knows Tony needed someone to talk to.

Around noon, Tony’s stomach started to grumble, not surprising considering the hearty breakfast of black coffee he had this morning. Peter mentioned earlier that he’d been craving Gyros, and that didn’t sound half bad right about now. He was a few blocks away from the mall anyway.

From: Peter

Here’s a contact picture, in case you needed one...

[see attachment]

The picture Peter sent was absolutely adorable. His bangs fell over his forehead, slightly parted to the side so it wasn’t completely covered. Tony felt utterly entranced by the younger man’s smile and the way his left eyebrow looked like he’d slept with his face buried in a pillow. He was wearing a T-Shirt with a science pun on it, as if the kid couldn’t be any dorkier. Tony loved it.

To: Peter

Is that a sly way of getting me to send you a selfie back?

Cute shirt by the way, where ya headed?

From: Peter

Maybe...did it work?

I’m going shopping for a new mattress, old one crapped out on me.

To: Peter

Here, since you asked so nicely

[see attachment]

From: Peter

Oof, you can just delete mine. You just made me go from a solid 6 to like a 2

To: Peter

Hey, give yourself some credit, you’re definitely at least a 5

KIDDING, I’d rate you a solid 9, kid. Just because there’s always room for improvement

From Peter:

I would just like to know who gave you the right to be so sassy and RUDE

To: Peter

Definitely my narcissistic ego

No, but seriously Pete, you’re stunning. Don’t listen to the old guy

From: Peter

Pls you’re not that old, Tony.

To: Peter

A man after my own heart. Thanks, kid.

From: Peter

Anytime :-)

You’re more like my friend’s hot dad if anything

To: Peter

Little shit.

From Peter:

;-)

Tony shook his head fondly and stuffed his phone in his pocket as he entered the mall, looking around for something indicating what direction the food court was in. He hadn’t been to this mall in a while, he admits since he’s been making more money it’s kept him from coming and eating the fast food they had here. So he followed the signs until he got to the food court, and noticed there were still quite a few tables open for him to sit and eat at. He made a point to stay as far away from the family with three screaming children as possible.

He scanned the choices until he found somewhere that had gyros and went to go stand in line. The menu wasn’t too extensive, he could either get a gyro platter or a falafel platter, and he already knew what he was here for. His eyes fell from the menu to the person in front of him. Not to be a creep, he’s only human, but he had a fantastic ass. A perfect little bubble butt.

The man was a little shorter than him, he had a trim waist that opened up to broad shoulders not bigger than Tony’s. Incredible figure. He’s probably a dancer or a marathon runner. He also noticed this man had brown curls. That made him snort softly to himself, he either had a type or Peter just invaded his mind in a short amount of time. It could be either, honestly.

His eyes dropped to the phrase printed on the back of his shirt.

Never trust an atom, they make up everything

Ha. Peter would love that shirt.

Wait.

Peter has that shirt. It’s the one he was wearing in his selfie.

“Peter?”

The man in front of him whirled around to look at him with a puzzled expression. Tony suddenly found himself unable to move or say another word. He was instantly captivated by doe eyes and one of the prettiest faces he’d seen in a long time.

He watched his confusion turn into realization and then disbelief and dare he say: panic.

“Tony?”

@sweetqueen449, @slut-for-starker, @dim-ships-johnlock, @starkerhowlter, @sthefystarkersworld, @crazycocococonut, @bris-sins, @delicateavenuenacho, @ironspiderstarker, @katzenbaby1, @spider-iron-man, @rebel13lion39, @twokinkybeans, @frenchfrostpudding, @cherrygoldlove, @silkystarkk, @icandoakickflip, @irondaddio, @briesb1tch

creds to @problemchildnoonewanted for some of the messages in the beginning

#starker #sluttystark stuff #starker fic #starker au #ironspider #tony stark x peter parker #tony stark/peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #Peter Parker/Tony Stark

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ejzah · 3 years

Note

Could you do a fanfic where kensi has to go undercover as a model?

A/N: This prompt was sent a very long time ago. I apologize for it taking so long. This is set in season 4 and may deviate a little from canon.

***

Top Model

***

“This is the best day ever,” Deeks muttered, unable to hide his wide grin. He was situated at the end of a long runway next to several other, actual photographers who snapped rapid fire pictures of the models walking past.

He peered through the viewfinder of his camera, taking several pictures as a heavy beat vibrated through the room and a woman in a mustard yellow dress with a deep slit and feathers decorating the bodice stopped directly in front of him and gave him a sultry stare.

“See something you like?” Kensi asked, sarcasm filling her voice. She was somewhere backstage, waiting for her own turn to catwalk down the runway. He wasn’t sure what strings Hetty had pulled to get his and Kensi’s aliases, Bobby Harper and Rosa Black gigs at a fairly high profile fashion show 12 hours before the event started, but he was infinitely grateful.

Not only did he get to wear a shirt that cost more than his monthly salary (a nice change from all the utility uniforms of late), but he would also get to see Kensi live out her ANTM dreams. He wasn’t sure which of them was more excited.

“Mm, not really my type.” His camera whirred again, capturing the daring stance of a read-headed model in a deep green dress. Kensi made a rude noise, not exactly fitting with her current persona.

“I thought any woman that doesn’t run away is your type.” He grinned again, holding back a chuckle, reminding himself that it would look a little strange if he started laughing at nothing. “Ooh, what about the leggy brunette headed your way?” Kensi waited for the model to stop in front of him and then added. “Her name’s Jasmine and she likes long walks on the beach.”

“She sounds delightful, but still not my type,” Deeks muttered. He had a different leggy brunette in mind who would probably gut punch him if he ever dared to call her “leggy”.

He took several pictures on auto pilot, thankful that no one would actually be scrutinizing them for quality. His photography skills were satisfactory for crime scenes, but probably not quite magazine worthy. “Did you see anything interesting back stage?”

“Other than two models getting into a fight over a pair of Louis Vuitton shoes?” Kensi said. “Not really. There was too much chaos to focus on one thing.”

“Now that I would have loved to see.”

“Creep.” He grinned again at her mild comment. Two more models stalked by, giving their own variation of the same overly dramatic stance. Lowering his camera for a moment, he quickly swept the room to see if anyone was giving particular notice to a single model.

One of them was suspected of selling sensitive information to a foreign government. Nell and Eric had traced the sales of similar information back to several other modeling events over the past two months. They were still trying to figure out how their suspects, mostly in their early twenties and without criminal records, had attained classified information.

Sam and Callen were in the audience, keeping an eye out for their buyer. So far they’d been pretty silent though.

Three more models emerged from either side of the runway amid a cloud of manufactured mist. As the fog cleared, Kensi walked out, and the beat of his heart suddenly matched the rhythm of the music. She wore a dark blue evening gown, the plunging bodice clinging to her torso until it reached her waist and flowed down into several full layers of sheer material. Half her hair was swept up to the side with the rest fell around her shoulders in soft curls.

She looked absolutely stunning, and more importantly, confident. There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation as she strutted down the runway. As she drew closer to the end, Deeks heard a rush of whispers from the other photographers, wondering who she was.

Kensi paused in front of the them, her skirts swirling around her dramatically as she stopped. She glanced to him, her eyes making contact for the briefest of seconds. In that moment see saw a hint of uncertainty and then pride as the whispers continued and a dozen cameras flashed around her. She gave an extra twirl before she headed back down the runway.

One of the photographers said something about winning an award for her pictures and Deeks smothered a smirk. Kensi would get a kick out of that. To bad said pictures would never see the light of day.

“Guys, I just saw one of the models, Jenna Martinez, talking to a guy. He looked about 50 years old with gray hair and a dark blue suit,” Kensi said a few minutes later, sounding a little breathless. “I’m sending you a picture.”

“Did you see what he gave her?” Sam asked. “Coulda been a lot of things. Drugs, money in exchange for other services...”

“No, all I could see was a white envelope. But models aren’t supposed to leave styling area in between walks without permission though. If someone caught her, she could risk getting kicked out of the show. That seems pretty suspicious to me.”

“Kens, check it out,” Callen decided. “Deeks, figure out a way to get out and back her up. We’ll see if we can find Kensi’s mystery man.”

“Got it. Deeks I’ll be back where they store the extra wardrobe.”

Deeks sat through two more cycles of models, conscious they had limited time before the area would be swarming with with even more people once the show had finished. He took the opportunity to slip away when one of the models took an unfortunate fall after tripping over the train of her dress.

Surprisingly, no one questioned why he was wandering around back stage. The stylists and make up people seemed completely consumed with making sure the show stayed on track to wonder about his motives.

“Kens,” he whispered when he found the storage area empty.

“Right here,” she answered, appearing from one of the many closets, still dressed in the evening gown. When she noticed his raised eyebrow, she added. “I didn’t have time to change.”

They passed through a couple dim hallways, taking a less direct route to the locker area to avoid running into anyone.

“You watch the door.” Kensi headed to the second row of lockers, sinking to a graceful crouch.

“Did you really bring your lock picking kit with you?” he asked, glancing through a crack in the door as she pulled something from the top of her dress.

“Nope, bobby pin,” she said holding it up with a smirk before she pried it open with her teeth.

“How very resourceful of you, Nancy Drew.” He nodded in appreciation as she inserted the straightened end into the keyhole.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” After a minute or so of wiggling it around,

she swore under her breath. “Damn it. It’s like there’s rust or something stuck in here and it doesn’t want to give.”

“How much longer do you think it will take?” he asked, checking the door again. There was no one in the vicinity so he left his watch and crouched beside her.

“I don’t know, Deeks!” Kensi snapped, blowing out a long breath. She glanced at him a little sheepishly as she removed the pin and started over again. “Sorry. It’s just that this usually takes me about 10 seconds.”

“Don’t worry about it. You wouldn’t happen to have any WD-40 tucked in there too?” He nodded to her chest and she slanted him a wry look, but didn’t look too annoyed.

“Right next to my wrench and screwdriver. I think-“

“Wait,” Deeks interrupted, making a hushing sound. “I think someone’s coming.” He rushed back to the door as quietly as he could. He couldn’t see anyone yet, but he heard voices and footsteps, drawing closer every second. “Kens, someone’s coming. We have to get out of here.”

“Just one more minute,” she insisted. “ I think I almost got it.” The lock made an audible click and Deeks winced at the loud creak as Kensi swung the locker door open and pulled out a Dior purse and a cloth shoulder bag.

“Kens-“ Ignoring his warning, she dumped the contents of both bags onto the floor and a collection of makeup and clothes fell out along with a medium sized envelope. Kensi snatched it up, tossing it in his direction and started stuffing the rest of the things back in the locker, not taking time to worry about neatness.

Heart pounding, he shoved the envelope in the inside of his pocket, glancing around for somewhere to hide. Two men were walking down the hallway, making a beeline for the locker room.

“Ok, let’s go,” she whispered, reaching for his hand as she stood up.

“No time,” he hissed back, tugging her further into the room. Kensi made a surprised sound when he pushed her up against the lockers and added, “Please don’t hit me.”

She didn’t have time to respond before he dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers.

***

A/N: I clearly do not know much about modeling or fashion shows so I went with what I do know fairly well. Densi. Hope you enjoyed and there will be a part 2.

Thanks for the the prompt anon!

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #season 4 #pre densi #undercover fic #anonymous prompt #ejzah fanfiction

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miyaniacs · 4 years

Text

Mafia AU - Bokuto x fem!reader

Chapter 6 - Unexpected Events

Chapter 5 - You are mine. ; Index ; masterlist

warnings: mentions of death and blood

Tuesday, 7pm

Ushijima left about an hour ago, he stayed quite long after last night. Strange enough you had a feeling that he felt bad when he saw all the bruises he left on your body and how you frowned with every movement.

You sigh and fall down on your sofa, pulling your blanket over your legs.

Why have I chose this life again? You sigh and look over at the plush owl.

Yeah why have you? At first you could say it was as if you were forced. Ushijima saved you this one night, that still hunts your dreams. Until that night you’ve always been naive, walking around the city at night, partying until the next morning or waking up in some strangers bed.

That night you got into the car of those two guys, they told you they just needed to ‘talk with some of their guys’. You got out of the car with them, the ‘other guys’ already waiting for them, but as soon as they saw you something changed. “We got something for us to have some fun” the one next to you said and pushed you forwards, you stumbled on the hard ground. The other got closer and you knew what was going to happen to you, but then he came. You still remember his words: “You’re here to work and not to take advantage of some innocent girl. GET THE FUCK OFF OF HER NOW!”. Then a shoot, and the guy who was feeling you up just seconds before fall down next to you. Blood running put off the wound on his head. The next thing you felt was his arm around your waist pulling you up, protectively pushing you against him, the gun in his other hand. You can still feel the warmth that filled your body in that moment. You never felt so save before.

Ushijima took you home that night and stayed until you felt asleep. The next morning you woke up finding some fresh croissants in your kitchen together with his number, saying that you should text him. And so you did.. and he asked you for one small favour. This favour was 2 years ago. You got used to all the money, the adrenaline and the fun.

“I’m so sorry Bokuto.” You say and pull the owl into your chest, feeling the tiredness taking over your body you closed your eyes.

Wednesday, 2am

Your eyes shoot open. What was this noise? Is someone at your door? Yeah there is definitely someone banging on your door.

You grab your gun and walk over to your door.

“Y/n.. please tell me you can hear me.” Wait you know this voice, but it sounds different?

You look throw the door viewer and you see exactly what you feared to see.

Quickly you open the door and help Bokuto in. Blood dripping out of a wound on his arm, his right eye is swollen and all in all he doesn’t look good, probably due to the blood loss.

You guide him to your bathroom and he sits down on your toilet.

“Can you take off your shirt?” You ask him and he nods, taking off his shirt. You grab a long tweezer and some bandages. FUCK your disinfectants are empty. “Bo, I’m sorry but I need to get vodka, I forgot to stock up on my disinfectants.” You look back at him, “Take that towel and press against the wound.” Hurrying back to your kitchen you grab the vodka and come back into the bath only to find Bokuto passed out. “FUCK!” You exclaimed and quicks check his pulse.

Okay. Everything is alright. He just passed out. You quickly clean up the wound with the vodka, which eventually gets him back to reality. “SHITT” he groans. “I need to get the bullet out. Here bite on that towel.” You hand him the towel he was originally supposed to press on his wound.

Carefully you remove the bullet with the tweezers and sew the wound together. You’re really glad you volunteered for the ambulance when you were 18. After putting on the bandage, you finally look into his eyes.

“Bo, what happened?” Your eyes filled with sorrow.

“Nothing major, one of the gangs that worked for us though it was a good idea to act up.”, He took a sip out of the vodka, “but don’t worry, I took care of them.” He lazily smirks.

“Bokuto - “ you start but he interrupts you. “It’s fine really, I can go now if you want. Your apartment just was the nearest and I needed somewhere to go and you told me that you volunteered for the ambulance so, sorry if I caused trouble.” He gets up, his face twitched in pain.

Why do all of them have to act so tough. You can’t even count the times Tosh stood in front of your door, with several wounds barley able to walk - all the convincing it took you to made him stay, it was ridicules.

“Bokuto, please stay.” You stutter. He turns around and looks down at you. “Do you really want that?” He asks. You nod and take his hand leading him to your bedroom, gesturing to your bed. He hesitates at first but then took off his shoes and lays down.

“Do you need anything?” You ask him and he smiles. “Just you in my arms.” Your heart arches and you slowly walk towards him. You sit down next to him and he wraps his non injured arm around you to pull you down on his chest. After a few seconds you shift and wrap one arm around his waist, your head rests on his chest while you throw one of your legs over his.

“Who caused them?” He asks, his fingers tracing the marks Ushijima left on your collarbone and neck. You gulp, already looking for an excuse. “Wait never mind, just tell me if it’s something serious with this guy?” He mumbles his fingers now run through your hair. “I really don’t know, it’s mainly sex but I-“ you sigh, you’ve actually always been confused about what this thing between you and Tosh is. “It’s fine, that just means that I have to take more effort in now to make you mine.” You feel your cheeks burn at his words - ‘To make you mine.’.

As if you’re in trance you look at his eyes and push yourself up, to kiss him. Finally you feel his soft lips again. Switching the position you’re now sitting onto of him, deepening the kiss. You don’t know how much practice he got, but you’re melting in the kiss, both of you not wanting to break it. Soon after you need air, he gently stokes your cheek and gives you a perk on your lips. “We should sleep okay?” You whine in response. “No baby, we sleep now, we are not in the right state to get this more heated.” He chuckles as you mumbles something not understandable and cuddle back up on him. His arm pulls you tighter onto him, his face nuzzled in your hair, as you fall asleep to the steady beat of his heart.

Wednesday, 7 am

You wake up by someone calling your name.

“Hey, y/n.” Bokuto whispers in your ear while planting kisses on your temples. “Baby, I know you’re awake.” He laughs softly and you groan. “Just a few more minutes..” You mumble and cuddle closer to him, hiding your face in his chest, shielding your eyes from the morning sun.

“Baby.. You need to get up. You have a class at 9am.” He stokes your hair and looks at you lovingly. You move your head, eyes fluttering because of the light and place a kiss on his jawline.

“I’ll just skip it.” You close your eyes again but Bokuto takes away the blankets and now you’re freezing. “OMG BO?!” Your eyes are now fully open and you look at him disgusted. “You don’t need to care about my education” you huff. Yes, you’re grumpy in the morning. Especially with the lack of sleep and your needed caffein. “Go and get ready, I’ll make some coffee grumpy.” Bokuto laughs. “Wait, let me check your arm first.” You look at the bandage on his arm, which has a light red sport showing. “No, I’m fine, don’t worry about me. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” He lies, and clearly you know that he does, but you don’t have the energy right now to discuss this topic any further with him so you just sigh and make your way to the bathroom.

Wednesday, 7:50 am

“Here.” Bokuto places the cup in front of you, while you scroll through your phone checking your messages. “Thank you Bo.” You smile, not lifting your eyes off your phone. “Should I drive you to your campus?” He asks and lifts his own cup up to his lips. “Would that be okay for you?” You now look at him. His hair is still messy, he has dark circles under his eyes, one of his eyes is still some colour of purple, his shirt isn’t buttoned up completely, leaving the upper buttons undone. “You look like shit.” You state. “Oh you were the one putting vodka on my wound, how do you expect me to look?” He rolls his eyes in a joking way before he adds ”besides I’d put on a different shirt if I were you. There is quite some discolorations showing.” You groan, remembering the mess Ushijima left on your skin and get up to put on a T-Shirt with a higher collar.

Wednesday, 8:40 am

You get out of Bokuto’s car after saying your goodbye and promising him that you won*t ignore his messages and be save and most importantly text him if you’d feel uncomfortable.

Walking towards the building your class is held in you receive a massage from Ushijima.

From: Tosh

Wait for me in the room after the lecture ends. We need to meet Kags at the Casino afterwards.

You reread the message for five times and the ‘wait for me in the room’ won’t make any sense.

“Hey Y/N!” Your best friends walk up to you and you great them putting your phone away. It’s Ushijima after all who knows why you need to wait there for him.

Wednesday, 9:15 am

The door opens and your faculty director walks in. “I’m sorry to announce that Professor Bernstein died.” All the student immediately start to whisper, all the crazies theories about his death coming up, “YET we quickly found someone who will take his place for the rest of the semester. Please welcome -“ you stop listening. You already know who he is, and now you know why your old professor has died all of sudden. You roll your eyes as Ushijimas lock with yours.

Wednesday, 1:30 pm

You told your friends that you need to talk with the Professor because of some essay you had to do. They just smirked at you “You don’t have to lie, we have eyes. He is hot as fuck, shoot your shot babygirl.”

Sadly you weren't the only one staying in the room. Around 10 other female students are circling the desk Ushijima leans against asking him question after question - or more likely flirting with him. You huff. As if anyone of them would have a chance with him. The black hair one with this extremely deep cut shirt takes a step forward and - puts her hand on his chest?

The more you watch her touching him, the more annoyed you get. You sigh loudly, getting attention. He smirks and tells the other girls off, which still try to stay ,but quickly run off as his presence changes, showing that that he was not kindly asking them.

He slowly walks up to you. “Why?” You just ask him. “It was the Boss’s idea. We’re all worried about your safety since this Bastard picked you up on the campus and also came to you last night.” By now he reached the sport you’re standing, hovering over you. You open your mouth to say something but he’s faster “Don’t worry, I know you’re just playing your role babygirl.” He gently stokes your cheek. “Shouldn't we go now? I bet the others are already waiting.” You grumble and add “You took long enough answering those questions - about what? If your muscles are real?” If you could take back your words you would. The last part was supposed to be your thoughts only. “Is my baby jealous?” He smirks. Yes, yes you are jealous. You’re not used to see other girls flirt with him that offensively. Usually when the two of you are around others it was visible for everyone that he was with you. “Now you know how I feel, when I see you with Bokuto. So just imagine how you’d feel if you know one of them spends the night at mine.” He whispers the last part in your ear. Your stomach twists simply by the thought of some other girl sharing a bed with him. Your lack of answers is enough for him to smile softly. “Exactly baby. But don’t worry. I don’t want anyone else than you.” he gently kisses the soft skin behind your ear. “Now let’s get going, the boss is waiting”

taglist ( open ) : @kageyamasbraincell , @theduvetpirate , @tendouthighs , @lilacshouko @softhourswithseb @theperksofcoffee @cuddlesslut @chromaticstudio @shhhlikeme, @kynyta @yammmers

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x y/n #bokuto imagine #bokuto x reader #bokuto headcanons #ushijima x reader #ushijima headcanons #hq headcanons

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