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bayjaruchel · 6 months

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Whammy Kiss Me (Whammy Hug)

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Pairing: Clapton Davis/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven isn't a pointless party game, after all. (3.9k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

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It's not until the closet door shuts that you realize the gravity of your current situation.

You've been at the party for at least a couple of hours; you've grown used to the general noise. The slight haziness of the air. You're not quite hammered yet, but you've got one or two drinks in your system. Just enough that you can enjoy the feeling without worrying about the hangover tomorrow. Judging by the way that a couple of people had been giggling and swaying, not everyone who was sitting around the circle shared your sense of self-conservation.

Although it hadn't been the brightest outside— it was dim, but also somewhat illuminated at the same time with the neon lighting— the single lightbulb hanging above your heads doesn't do much against the darkness.

Yeah. Heads, plural.

Luckily, there's only one person in the cramped space besides yourself.

Unluckily, that person is one Clapton Davis.

It's not that you don't like him. Actually, you feel the exact opposite towards him, but that's not the point. It's just that— you know, you could spend seven minutes just sitting in silence, doing absolutely nothing— but you're suddenly hyper-aware of the way your knees are brushing. The way there's something in the air. Maybe you're just imagining it, but there's something … restless. Something like—

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when he speaks.

"So," he says, casually. As if you're not within necking distance in a cramped space. "You enjoying the party?" There's that same easy grin on his face. He's completely at ease, apparently. You're not sure if that's because of his ever-present (and sometimes misguided) confidence, or because he's used to stupid little party games like this. It's probably a combination of both.

"Yeah." You find yourself replying, almost on autopilot. "The punch isn't as bad as I thought it would be."

Clapton honest-to-god giggles at that. "It's still pretty shitty, though."

"I wouldn't say shitty."

"Awful, then." He raises his eyebrows. "Let's just say that it's an … acquired taste."

You can't help but smile. "Fair." He's right— you're pretty sure that the only people who actually enjoy it are the people who regularly attend these parties. Said people usually just come to get drunk, anyway, and the punch works wonders. Magically malicious.

"It's either that or cheap beer," he muses. "Or wine busted from mommy and daddy's fridge in the basement."

"Expensive wine?"

"Could be." Clapton shrugs, pulling his knees closer to his chest. You try in vain not to focus on his arms as he wraps them around his legs. Was it really necessary to wear the tank top? "Maybe," he says. "But I doubt that anyone here would wanna drink it."

You unconsciously mirror his posture. "Why's that?"

He snorts. "Too classy."

It sort of makes sense. You can't really see Josh from Calculus sipping a glass of pinot noir, much less enjoying it. Maybe one has to start from the bottom of the hypothetical alcohol pyramid and work their way up. The bottom, meaning Bud Light. Or Coors Light. All of the Lights.

"Cheap beer it is, then."

Clapton's grin is back.

"Unfortunately."

You're starting to relax, even if you can still feel your heart pounding whenever his eyes meet yours. Even if your eyes are lingering. When he reaches up to idly run his fingers through his hair, you can't stop yourself from wondering: is it as soft as it looks?

"How much time d'you think we have left?" He asks, just as you're attempting to reel yourself back in.

"Uh," you start. Nice. "I don't know— maybe, like, four minutes or so?" Spending a couple of minutes talking about drinks wasn't exactly the plan, but you're not exactly complaining. It's still better than awkward silence. You wonder— again— about how many times he's done this before. How long does it usually take before people give in?

The muffled music from outside has been reduced to just the thumping of the bass, and the rhythm matches your pulse.

"Four minutes," he echoes.

You can't hold his gaze, glancing down at your knees instead.

"Yeah."

You can tell when Clapton adjusts himself where he's sitting, but you have a feeling that he hasn't looked away. Not yet.

"What do you wanna do now?" He asks, innocently. "Four minutes is a long time."

When you look up, you're proven right. The faint glow of the light doesn't hide anything. It just makes everything feel vaguely dreamlike. And, okay. This is pretty cliche. But you've watched too many movies, seen too many shows— you know what that look is. That look doesn't mean that he wants to play rock-paper-scissors for the remainder of your time left.

"I don't know," you manage. "What do you want to do?"

His eyes dip briefly before flicking back up.

"I was asking you," he teases softly. "We've already had a pointless conversation." He mimes checking a box midair with his pointer finger. "Check. And we've already sat in silence for a couple of seconds." He repeats the motion on another imaginary box. "Check."

"Oh, ouch. Talking about alcohol is pointless?" You're a little amused. "So, what's left on the list?"

Clapton raises his eyebrows again.

There's a shift in the air.

"C'mon, don't tell me that you actually don't know." His tone's dropped to little more than a whisper, but due to your closeness, you can hear him loud and clear. Your brief bit of confidence wanes— your face warms, and you pause. Sure, you're well aware of what he's implying— but you're not sure if he's just joking around or not. When has Clapton Davis ever been serious, besides that one time he competed in a skateboarding competition in the sixth grade?

The lighthearted lilt in his voice is almost gone, though.

"I know what you're trying to say," you finally reply, matching his volume. And you do want to kiss him. You really, really do.

"Okay," he murmurs in return. "Well, that's good." He dares to smile, though you know you're weak to it.

"I don't have to ask you out loud, right?"

He definitely already knows the answer to that question.

"Yeah, you don't."

You've tuned out the outside world, muffled as it already was. The music and noise fade to a quiet hum. You can hear the quiet buzz of the lightbulb— the barely audible clattering as your back moves against the uncomfortable storage shelves— the sound of his sneakers scuffing against the hardwood floor—

"But if I did ask," he says, uncharacteristically hesitant, "you'd say yes?"

Your heartbeat thrums in your throat.

The seconds tick by— you know you can't wait. It's been at least a minute and a half—

"Just do it," you breathe.

And he does.

The first thing you register is how soft his lips are. Then, his hands— cupping your face— your own hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, tugging him closer. His hair is as soft as it looks. There's no slow build-up because there's no time for that. All you can think about is him— the little sounds he lets out as you kiss, the way he can't wait when you part, his breath briefly coming in soft pants before he leans in to capture your lips again. He tastes vaguely like beer, and maybe that would have bothered you if it were any other guy— but with him, you don't really care at all. His nose presses a little awkwardly against yours a couple of times, but he makes up for it with how eager he is. You know he's not a bad kisser; he's just impatient.

You lose yourself for a little while. It feels like forever. You wrap your arms around his neck, reluctantly dropping your grip on his hair. His hands start to stray, one anchoring itself behind your neck and the other traveling lower. And lower—

There's a loud series of knocks at the door.

Clapton's slower to react, and you're the one to pull back first. When you do, he leans forward to chase your lips— but stops upon noticing your expression. In direct comparison to you, he just looks giddy. Almost dazed. His hair's a little disheveled from earlier, and he hasn't let go of you yet.

"Huh," he says, before the door is yanked open.

You're immediately greeted by exactly what you had expected. Whistles. Catcalls. General hooting. Some "called it!"s and "you owe me five bucks, man!"s.

Clapton just grins, reveling in it all. Because of course he would. But, before you can get too embarrassed, he's getting to his feet, pulling you along with him as you both exit the closet— exiting what had previously been your own little world. Instead of just rejoining the circle, like part of you expects him to do, he pauses to lean over to you and whisper:

"Wanna go upstairs?"

You blink at him. He's still smiling— he almost looks star-struck. You feel that familiar swoop in your stomach. Maybe it's a stupid decision that you'll regret later, but—

"Okay," you agree.

The whistling doesn't stop as he grabs your wrist, making a beeline for the stairs. The son of a bitch takes them two at a time, and you do your best to keep up. Upstairs, it's quieter than it is on the ground floor, since there are fewer people up here; still, though, you can hear the music echoing through the hallway. A girl's laughter rings out, followed by a string of giggles.

It's not very hard to find an empty bedroom. You gingerly shut the door behind you, taking a moment to look around. There are one or two posters here and there, and a few photos placed on the dresser. Other than that, it's kind of bare-bones. A guest room, maybe? You sure hope so. While you're distracted, Clapton leisurely sits down on the bed, bouncing a couple of times.

"Cozy," he remarks, and you turn to look at him.

"You think?"

He grins. "Sure do."

You sit next to him on the mattress. It's not bad. For a moment, he just looks at you. Taking you in.

But he doesn't hesitate much longer, and leans in. Automatically, you angle your head just so. Unlike before, he kisses you in small pecks at first. One of his hands finds your cheek. However, as the minutes draw by, your kisses grow longer. More languid. He hums into your mouth, and you move closer. Closer, until your thighs are brushing his, and you're nearly off-balance, but it's still not close enough.

He draws back. This close to him, you can pick out his freckles. His eyelashes are long, framing half-lidded eyes. His lips are still parted.

"Should I lay back?" He asks, hushed. "Or do you wanna—"

"Go ahead," you interrupt.

Clapton flops backward onto the pillows, wiggling around to make himself more comfortable. When you think he's got himself in a good position, you crawl over him. The way he looks up at you— it makes you a little lightheaded, but in the best way possible. His hands find your waist. You can do little but settle against him, pressing your lips to his for the nth time.

Enthusiastically, he responds, and it's not long before your kisses grow messier. Needier. His hands wander, moving down to rest on your hips, and then lower— you let out a gasp when he squeezes your ass, and he uses the opportunity to pull you harder against him. You're no stranger to how strong his arms are, but, yeah, being on top of him like this is an entirely new experience. He's soft and firm in equal measures, his chest sturdy where it's pressed against yours. His hands are warm when he moves them under your shirt, up your back, making you shiver.

Bracing your hands on his torso, you sit up. For a second, he's confused, but that quickly fades away as you reach down to pull up your shirt.

"Holy shit," he murmurs. He scrambles to discard his tank top too, yanking it over his head. You were right— he's toned, but there's still a fair bit of softness there. Of course his chest doesn't have any hair, but at least he kept the trail. You lay back on top of him, the feeling of his skin against yours like this causing you to shudder again. Clapton's hands start to explore once more— square palms, strong fingers. It must be a little bit of an uncomfortable stretch for him, but his thumbs find your nipples, tracing soft circles.

You briefly enjoy the sensation. Then, your breath stutters when he gently urges you forward and then leans up so he can take them into his mouth. It must be self-indulgent for him, too, because he spends more time than necessary— sucking, flicking his tongue— but it's not like you're complaining.

When he finally stops, he presses a kiss to the middle of your chest before laying back on the pillows. You move back down, and can't resist the urge to kiss him in return. His jaw— his cheek, which makes him smile. He's already started hooking his fingers in your waistband, and your mild surprise must show on your face, because he abruptly stops.

"Sorry," he grimaces, "am I going too fast? I - Is that too much?"

Hastily, you shake your head. "Oh, no. Not at all. It's fine. Just— it just caught me off-guard."

"Okay." The worry vanishes in an instant. "Okay, I'm gonna."

You let him slide down your bottoms, and then take them off the rest of the way yourself. His shorts quickly join the rest of the clothing on the floor. Now, you're more or less sitting in his lap— he props himself up on the headboard, his breath heavy as you shift on top of him. With only a few layers between you, you're aware of the shape of him through his boxers.

You grind your hips with purpose, and he swears under his breath. When you do it again, he muffles himself by kissing you. The friction— you know it's not going to be enough— makes you more desperate, and it must be having the same effect on him, judging by the way he's slightly squirming underneath you. He's not quite thrusting up against you, but it's obvious that if he were in a better position, he would be. When your cunt brushes against him, catching at that angle, he moans openly into your mouth. You draw back only for air. If you could, you'd keep kissing him forever.

"You gonna let me— mmh — fuck you?" He pants, "ohmygod, 'cause if you don't, you— you are one sick bastard—"

You smile, although you want him just as badly as he wants you. You're doing a slightly better job at keeping yourself composed, after all. "I don't know," you murmur, "isn't this nice?"

Clapton bites his lip when you grind down harder this time. "I — well," his hands scramble on your waist, your hips, "it is pretty nice, but, like — I just wanna take the logical— shitfuck — next step, right?" He's looking up at you with wide eyes, "and you are gonna let me, right?"

"Right," you repeat, your breath catching when you roll your hips at just the right angle, "I am gonna let you, don't worry."

He's flushed a pretty pink, pupils blown wide, obscuring hazel eyes; you drink him in. "Thought so," he grins. Before you can ask, he's already answering. "And, uh. There's a condom in the pocket of my shorts, if you're worried about that."

You're in mild disbelief, abruptly halting your movements.

"In your—?"

Clapton looks a little bashful, though he's still grinning. "Could you just get it?"

You're already awkwardly dismounting his lap. "Sure, sure." True to his word, there's a condom in the left pocket of his shorts, and you fish it out without a problem. You glance back at him for a moment, and he doesn't even try and pretend that he wasn't staring. Oh, well. A little clumsily, you get back onto the bed, and move to straddle him again— but he gently stops you.

"Hey," he says, "can we switch places?"

You don't need much time to consider it. "Alright."

Now, he's hovering between your legs, and you're the one lying back. His gaze lingers, but he can't wait for much longer. You lift your hips, and he slides your last remaining piece of fabric off.

"Fuck," he breathes, just before he gets to work. With the pad of one of his fingers, he collects the wetness that had been gathering, then smoothly slides the digit into your cunt. Swiftly, he adds another, the sensation odd at first, but you know you'll quickly get used to it. When he begins to lightly trace your clit, it only makes it easier for you to loosen up— both figuratively and literally. And he's still adding another. Maybe three fingers aren't strictly necessary, but he crooks them, finding the spot that makes an almost embarrassing noise tumble from your lips.

You spread your thighs wider. You could definitely cum like this if you let him continue for a while. Glancing up at his face— oh, he definitely would if you wanted him to. He's torn between looking at how his fingers disappear into you and your face. How you're reacting to his touch. It's a little flattering. But as much as part of you wants to see what he's willing to do —

"I'm — " You feel yourself tense, and you barely stifle an involuntary moan when he thumbs your nub again. "I'm ready. You can —"

He doesn't even wait until you finish the sentence. He's already pulling out his fingers, tugging off his boxers. Your eyes are immediately drawn downward. Again, you're not surprised that he's shaved. Length-wise, he's probably around average, but girth-wise he's nice and thick. There's a bead of precum at the tip— if he wasn't already tearing open the condom with his teeth in a move that he's probably practiced before, you would've offered to blow him or something. Maybe some other time.

Your idle thoughts dissipate when he lines himself up and, with an amount of care that nearly belies his previous neediness, presses in. You both moan in unison— he sounds infinitely more strained. He takes a moment to catch his breath, but—

He starts moving. Little thrusts, at first. Then, pulling out more, pushing back in. His mouth falls open, and you can't resist throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him down. He groans, and you take it in, taking it with his increasing pace. It's good— his thumb finds your sensitive apex again, and that makes you jolt, but you know he's trying to give you a smooth progression between slow and fast. That's not what you want, though. Especially not now. Inches from his lips, you mutter:

"Don't hold back."

And that's all it takes. You can vaguely hear the bed creaking when he snaps his hips up to meet yours, roughly fucking into you with almost reckless abandon. Your kisses are sloppy, uncoordinated. But you wouldn't prefer it any other way. You know he probably wouldn't be making those noises if he didn't know they were muffled against you. Some are high-pitched— ragged gasps, moans, and at least one whimper. You also know you don't sound much different. He can't reach down to rub your throbbing clit anymore, due to how he's positioned, but the way that he's angled is more than satisfying in that regard.

You lose track of time, only aware of his hips colliding against yours— his lips, his hands — the way he's starting to babble. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he confesses in a rush, "god, your eyes. I could just — I could just look at you like this forever. If you could see yourself — nnh — you would know." A sharp intake of breath, a few kisses, and then, "Ohfuck. Shit. You're gonna ruin this forever for me. I can't — "

His rhythm is starting to falter. You can feel the heat pooling low in your gut, the tension that comes before the inevitable release. You tighten around him. His hands braced near your shoulders tremble, and you can see his biceps flexing with the effort of holding himself up like this.

"Please," Clapton chokes out, and he doesn't specify as to what he wants, but you have a pretty good idea. "I'm gonna— "

"Do it," you manage, despite your own climbing pitch, "c'mon, give it to me—"

"Fuck— " You feel him pulse. For a split second, you wonder how it would feel if he didn't have on the condom— but your thoughts are quickly overtaken, as you're not too far behind. You twitch, spasming around his cock as your mouth falls open. The tension peaks, the heat spikes—

He fucks you, gently, as you float back down, riding out your orgasm. Your eyelids flutter shut, and your breath slows, but your pulse is still a fast-paced staccato.

He gingerly lays on top of you, catching his breath. It's hot against your throat. The world ceases spinning, and you let out a long sigh.

He mimics it, and you glance down at him.

You're reluctant to say it, but seriously, this is someone else's house. Guest room or not.

"We should get cleaned up or something."

He blinks once, lazily. Seemingly, he's content to lay on your chest. Of course, he's the type to get sleepy after sex. But at least he makes an effort to respond. "Ugh," he says. And then: "Jus' gimme a minute or something."

You give him a look, and he surrenders. "Okay, fine."

He slips out with a wet noise, and you only miss the fullness for a moment. Getting off the mattress, he throws out the condom, then accepts the wad of tissues you hand him. It's not the best, but it'll have to do for now. You manage to get most of the evidence of your arousal off before pulling back on your clothes. There's a mirror, thankfully, so you go to try and make yourself look less … fucked. Not that it would really matter. There are definitely people in worse states.

Clapton stands next to you, but doesn't even try to fix his hair. On him, it looks fashionably disheveled, anyway.

It's silent, before he interjects:

"Is this … gonna be just a one-time thing?"

The strange apprehensiveness is back, and you chance a glance at him. He's not meeting your eyes, but you're sure he's looking at you in the mirror's reflection.

"I don't know," is all you can think to say, "do you want it to be?" A beat. "We could totally go back to being just sort of friends, if that's what you want."

Clapton visibly swallows. "I … "

You wait, patiently. He takes another few seconds.

"I liked that," he mutters, "a lot. And I— I meant all that stuff. About you."

He's still not meeting your eyes. It makes you pause.

"I liked it too," you reply, softly.

The look he gives you next says it all. You know he's not big on old-school romance. He's not big on flowery words— his English grades can certainly attest to that. He's more of an action-oriented guy. Even if you don't get a verbal confession just yet— and you know you will, just not now— you suddenly understand what he's trying to convey. So, you pull yourself together and throw caution to the wind.

"You wanna get out of here?"

He beams.

#clapton davis x reader #clapton davis x you #clapton davis imagines #clapton davis smut #josh hutcherson x reader

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balletfilmss · 4 months

Note

can i request luke x fem reader where they’re both counselors and have a secret relationship where they sneak out tg a lot, then the camp finds out. thank u!

CLANDESTINE MEETINGS

✸ pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

✸ synopsis: during one of your many secret meetups, you and luke get busted by your friends

✸ warnings: like one cuss word, kissing, established relationship, clarrise + chris my beloveds <3

✸ a/n: i’m sorry this took so long, classes just started back & i wanted to die. anyways. also literally what is chris & clarisse’s ship name? 😭

hermes was the god of messengers, the god of travelers, the god of thieves. his children were welcoming to most, for anybody who appeared at camp half-blood had been funneled through cabin eleven at one point, and new campers would continue to be.

his children were mischievous and they were smart. and above all of that, they were sly, sneaky, and secretive.

so had you really been surprised when one of these children proposed keeping your relationship a secret?

it wasn’t like luke was ashamed of you and your relationship or anything, don’t get it wrong. no, he wished more than anything that he could stand on top of a table in the dining pavilion and scream to everyone that you were his. but he couldn’t.

the two of you had decided that with all the new rules regarding camper relations (which totally weren’t passed thanks to chris and clarisse or your friends from the aphrodite cabin) and the strictly good example you two were to set as head counselors, it was best that it stayed between you and him.

that was why about four months ago, the sneaking around had begun.

meetings behind the boathouse, in the woods and in every secluded area of camp that you two could find. secret smiles and looks that only the two of you could see. holding hands under the table at counselor meetings and whispering in each other’s ears during a capture the flag matches.

it was thrilling, really. like the two of you shared a secret that nobody else had a clue about, something that was seen only by the sun and the moon.

you had been keeping it up for four months unsuspected until one particularly cool night in july.

you hadn’t seen luke all day, you were exhausted from a day of extra long training and losing a capture the flag match, so you were feeling extra clingy when you met him behind the big house. not your greatest hiding place, but you missed him so much that you couldn’t make yourself care.

nobody would notice you two missing with the campfire going on to distract them anyways.

“hey, sweet girl,” he greeted you with a smile that was reserved for your eyes only. “how was your day? i feel like i haven’t seen you at all.”

“because you haven’t.” you groaned in reply, taking his hands in yours because it had been too long since you had done so. his hands were warm and enveloped yours perfectly and you never wanted to let go. “today was exhausting.”

“oh yeah? too tired to see me?” he asked with that sly little smirk of his.

obviously you weren’t, because if you were, you would’ve been sleeping away in your cabin instead of out here in the dark with him.

“clearly not.” you responded with an eye roll that gestured about to your surroundings.

“never too tired for me, huh?”

“shut up.”

and he did, because within less than five minutes, your mouth was on his and his back was pressed up against the building behind.

now, luke prided himself on many things, such as his self-control and diligence, his keen spatial awareness and sneakily ability to keep a secret. but when it came to you, all of those things were gone.

he melted at the mere sight of your eyes meeting his, and your touch was like the blissful fire of a thousand suns.

you weren’t much better when it came to him, with his pretty eyes and the sweet names he gave you.

when he held you in his arms it felt as though the gods had made a mistake of separating your body from his so that you had to endure seventeen groveling years apart before you found one another again.

you were so caught up in one another that you never heard the footsteps coming.

“i knew it!”

you nearly jumped out of your skin when chris’s voice met your ears.

you pried yourself away from luke and the two of you were met with clarisse and chris staring at you, mouths wide open. you were caught.

“um . .” luke mumbled. real smooth.

“we can explain—“

“there’s nothing to explain.” clarisse cut you off, a knowing little smirk on the corner of her mouth as her boyfriend still stared at you with wide eyes. “this is a terrible hiding place by the way.”

“i knew i should’ve taken connor’s bet that they were dating.” chris said.

okay, they had to be exaggerating. you and luke weren’t that obvious, were you?

“oh come on, connor doesn’t know anything.” luke said with a nervous laugh, as if there were a way to cover up what had just been discovered. with the way his hands were still on your waist and fingers hooked through your belt loops, that wasn’t very plausible.

“dude, half the camp knows.” clarisse snorted.

“they do not!” you protested.

clearly, there was no saving your secrets now.

“you guys literally hold hands under the table at counselor meetings.” chris pointed out.

“how would you know? you’re not even a counselor.” you argue with him, but the little smile on luke’s face wasn’t helping your case.

“i have friends.” chris crossed his arms. “they tell me things.”

“he’s lying, silena told him.” clarisse shrugged.

“hey!”

you couldn’t help but laugh at that. accepting your fate, you looked at luke, who sucked air in through his teeth and said, “guess we’re busted.”

“yeah you are. now come back to the campfire and help me with these kids before they kill me.” chris said to his brother.

succumbing to counselor duties, you and your boyfriend emerged from your hiding spot and walked back to the campfire hand-in-hand, the secret out.

when the two of you took your seats in front of the fire and luke pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek, chris twisted his face up in mock disgust from luke’s other side.

“you know what, go back to hiding. i don’t wanna see that shit.”

#୨୧ love letters #｡ﾟ･ׂׂ daddy issues (kj’s version)#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fandom #luke castellan #imagine #charlie bushnell #fanfic #luke castellan pjo #pjo show #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine

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brossession-collection · 3 months

Text

Dad's Cam Show (Re-uploaded)

Note: This is a story I wrote in 2020 that was previously deleted by Tumblr. Couldn't find it until I stumbled upon am old hard drive. Hope you enjoy.

This social distancing shit is so boring. I get it. It’s needed. But god damn am I running out of things to do. Can’t even meet the guys I’ve been talking to on Grindr. Worse yet is that I’m stuck back at home. I was supposed to graduate college this year! Instead I was slumped over a computer screen in my PJs with my dad making his special pancakes. Ugh. Fuck this shit. I just wish I could go back to a better time.

Whatever. I’m done complaining. Dad’s getting groceries which means I can snoop around his shit. Yeah I’m that bored.

Dad’s a big burly guy. Heading into his mid-forties now and starting to gray up a little, but still keeping his body builder life style. He’s pretty open with me. He told me he used to do cam shows back before livestreams were even a thing. Made sense. Had to show off the bod somehow. Don’t know how mom thought about it but whatever. She’s out of the picture.

His room always had a musky woodsy cologne-y smell. His laundry hamper was even better. I always loved taking his briefs out of there and putting them on myself. I’ve been following his footsteps and bodybuilding myself, but I’m still a ways away before I have an ass and waist as large as his. So his 36in undies droop a bit. I grabbed his black cap too. Man. He loves this thing. Well, plus the 10 others caps he has. He always had it topping his head. Pretty sure he wears it to sleep too. I put it on and flexed like him. I got a bit of a boner but nothing crazy.

His dinosaur of a laptop was open, and logged in. I know I shouldn’t have, but I did it anyways. There were so many folders within folders. So much boring shit… and then I found “cam pics.”

The briefs I was wearing tented and wetted. Fuck I was so scared to open it. But I clicked it and… In there was only one image. I clicked on it to make it bigger and it was my dad. About 13 years ago. He was shirtless, and wearing the same cap that I have on my head right now. My eyes drifted from his hairy arms to his chest to eventually his bearded face. He looked so… tired? There was something about the softness in his expression that really got to me. And then…

“Hey son! I’m home! Could ya help me with the groceries?”

Shit. I got up and scrambled. The briefs were soaked and still being soaked. I had so many windows to close out of. Then I started hearing his footsteps come closer. I panicked and grabbed the top of the laptop to close it, but I couldn’t move. Suddenly, all the windows on the screen started to close. All except for the image of dad I had opened it. It enlarged by itself, and then the laptop started to fucking shake. I tried to get it to stop but it just kept rumbling. Fuck it. I wound up my fist and punched the screen. But there was no impact.

In less than a second my body followed my wrist into the screen. Everything went bright, and I was in a different room. I looked around. It looked like my parents’ room at our old house. The same laptop was in front of me showing the same image as before. Dad’s younger face looking back… And then I saw his eyes move. I froze. I looked at the time. 12:56 turned to 12:57. This wasn’t an image. It was a fucking livestream.

I slowly tilted my head. Dad did the same. I widened my eyes. So did dad. A smile crept over our faces. I just time travelled! And into dad’s body! Fuck there was so much I could do now!

“PING”

A old-school AIM notification popped up on screen. I maneuvered dad’s hand to the mouse and clicked on it. “Hey daddy. You gonna give us a show or what?”

“PING”

“Let’s see those hairy pits man!”

Fuck. I guess dad wasn’t kidding about these cam shows. Shit how do I reply? Do I just say something?

“Uh…” I gulped. Dad’s gruff voice was in my throat. “You guys mean… uh… this?” I lifted and flexed dad’s right arm. Immediately his armpit hair bursted out. Moist and smelly. My nose naturally turned towards the sweaty pit. Holy fuck was it musky. I took a deep whiff and groaned.

“PING. PING. PING. PING.”

“Fuck yeah daddy. Sniff that pit.”

“God damn you’re a big guy. How’s it feel huh?”

It felt amazing being so big. Watching everything I was doing be reflected by my dad on the recording was even better. The cockiness came in.

I wheeled the office chair back and did a double bicep pose. Sweat dripped off his hairy pits. I gave my face a rub and felt his beard scratch against his callused fingers. Then my hands felt the need to go down to his chest. I never felt so much pleasure from nipple rubbing in my life. The pings kept on coming. It was euphoric.

Dad’s cock was tenting the briefs I had put on earlier. I uncaged his 7 incher and let out a whiff of junk musk that filtered into my nose immediately. I started stroking and couldn’t stop. My other hand reached under dad’s taint, through the forest of pubes, and rammed a dildo into my dad’s ass crack.

“PING. PING. PING.”

“Holy fuck this is new! We gonna see a fingering show today!?”

“God damn man you enjoying yourself?”

I was. Everytime Dad’s moans left my throat I felt cock twitch a little bit harder. It just felt so amazing to feel his beefy arms rub against his beefy chest. His toes curling with every electric shock of pleasure moving through his beefy ass and legs.

I shot his load. Let out a gutteral yell. And it didn’t stop coming. My beard was soaked with three shots of cum. Chest was drenched with eight more. At this point, sweat was trickling down my temples. I relished in dad’s orgasm and then relaxed in the chair.

I watched as the notifications went crazy. Dad’s soft eyes housing my consciousness. Ugh. It felt incredible. I glanced over at his hat and felt the need to take it off. I did, and felt a wave of cool relief come off my head. Dad’s hair was cropped short, like a messy crew cut. And it was dripping with sweat. I felt the need to say something.“You like that, men?” Dad had so much suave in voice. The pings accelerated.I smiled and played with my cock. I could feel another round coming but felt a bigger presence unfold. Suddenly dad’s body started to shake. I tried controlling it, but I couldn’t weigh him down. My arms were flailing before my hands grabbed onto the edges of the desk. I whipped my head back, then head-butted the laptop screen. Light filtered through.

I was back at home, in my dad’s loose fitting briefs, his cap nestled on my head. Dad’s footsteps came by, then turned another direction. Guess he wasn’t coming by his room just yet. I looked down at his briefs, now soaked with my cum. Fuck. Was it just a dream?

It must’ve been. Just a fucking horny fever dream. What the fuck ever. Better than what I had been doing up until now. I leaned over to close the laptop but noticed something.

The image had turned into a recording.

#possession #hairy #bear #jock #ghost #male possession #male body swap #dad #beefy #stinky

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missmeinyourbones · 7 months

Note

hi, congrats on ur milestone! can i request gojo with #2 from the midnights prompts list from lavender haze? thank u!

ALL THIS SHIT IT NEW TO ME (s. gojo)

a/n: reader is on their period, satoru calls reader sweet girl and m'lady once, suggestive towards the end with mentions of pregnancy and period sex

L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

Your phone vibrates against the wood of the bedside table.

"Hello?"

Sounding slightly out of breath, Satoru immediately responds on the other side of the call.

"Hi."

Silence takes over the line as he refuses to elaborate any further on his reason for calling. Between whatever the hell he's playing at right now and the dull sensation of what feels like clawing inside of your abdomen, your patience wears thin.

Your second greeting comes less friendly, "Hello?"

"Are you okay?" he instantly asks.

Is he on drugs?

Satoru can practically see your teeth gritting on the other end of the line as you sigh and take a moment to collect your thoughts. With an exhausted and irritated tone, you scoff.

"Are you okay?"

"Your text," he softly points out.

You sigh. Satoru had left early this morning for work, as he usually does. It wasn't until you woke up late with a massive migraine and familiar ache in your stomach that you realized you started your period. It being a bit early this month, you were out of tampons and naively texted your boyfriend to pick you up some his way home.

You should've known it seemed a bit too easy when he merely replied with a thumbs-up.

Fingers pressing the bridge of your nose, you do your best to stay somewhat pleasant.

"…What about it?"

"I'm at the store now," Satoru states the obvious. You can hear the diluted commotion of other shoppers around him, the sound of items being scanned and shopping carts being steered.

He may mean well, but you're failing to see the purpose of his call, "And you're calling me because…?"

"This is such a scary aisle," he says beneath his breath, but you hear him all the same.

You can practically see his pout of cluelessness as he stands before the aisle, hand on hip and sighs, "There's so many… things going on."

"I sent you a picture of the box, Satoru," your eyes instinctually roll back like muscle memory. A cramp hits you a bit harder than the rest and you wince, desperate for his help, "Please, I'll Venmo you."

You hear a muffled scoff from the other line, "No, that's not what I mean. Never say that again."

"Then what do you mean?"

Walking the line between being in over his head and weirdly intrigued, Satoru hums to himself.

"There's like… a million options."

Your hand flexes in on itself in irritation, nails leaving crescents on your palm when you bite, "It's really not that hard when I sent you a visual aid."

"All this shit is new to me," his voice gets muffled a bit and you can tell he's wedging the phone between his shoulder and ear.

You hear the sound of plastic being fondled when he innocently asks, "There's sizes? What size are you?"

"It's not a size thing, Satoru—"

He interrupts you, "It says there's different settings—”

"Settings?" You're going to kill him.

"Yeah," he responds too casually for the situation. "Regular, super, super plus. What the fuck is ultra?"

It's borderline comical, the way you look up to the ceiling in disbelief. If there's a god in heaven, he'll make it so Satoru hangs up the damn phone and gets his ass back in the car within the next minute.

"Like I said in the text," your tone is cold and irritated, "the regular ones are fine."

It's silent for a beat when Satoru whispers, "Are you sure?"

"What do you mean am I sure?" you try not to spit venom. "I've only been doing this for over ten years."

"I mean, I'm pretty big though, and—”

"This is so different, oh my god," you groan, head in hands. "Get the regular ones."

More rustling of plastic and shuffling ensues. "Okay, okay, getting the regular ones. Damn, they make you pay for these?"

"Yes, Satoru," you hiss through a clenched jaw. "Anything else or can I hang up on you now?"

You hear him moving, and you can only pray that it's towards the checkout area, when he breathes, "Actually, yeah.”

You should've known not to ask, as Satoru readjusts his grip on his phone and smoothly taunts, "Are you more likely to get pregnant on your period? Asking for a very interested friend."

The sound of the call ending is his cue to swipe his card.

…

Not long after and in the middle of his lunch break, Satoru arrives home.

He's all smiles when he knocks on the half-open bedroom door, and he sympathetically smirks when he's met with your icy glare and bedhead.

He presents the plastic bag of goodies with a dramatic bow, “M'lady."

"Thank you," grumbles from your lips as you practically snatch it from his hand.

Satoru sits on the edge of the bed next to your limp body, "Anything for you, sweet girl."

His hand finds your tender side as he rubs gentle and warm circles on your skin, a weak attempt to ease any pain of yours he can. He leans back on his palm as he watches you rustle through the bag.

"Got you some other stuff, too," he says, hand finding your hair and gently scratching your head.

It's sweet of him, really. Your usual box of tampons sits on top of the items, followed by a few of your favorite candies and one of those makeshift heating pads shaped like a stuffed animal. You already have about five of them, but it's the thought that counts.

Feeling yourself ease up at his good intentions, you go to thank him—but another package at the bottom of the bag has you glaring at him.

"Satoru…"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Condoms?" you hold out an unopened box of his favorite brand and toss them his way.

"Oh, yeah," he moves the hand in your hair down to your neck, stroking its side softly.

His breath is warm on your skin when he leans in to press a gentle kiss to the spot he knows you like beneath your ear. Though you huff at the insinuation, he doesn't miss how you shiver a bit beneath his lips.

"During my lengthy and extensive research, I read that sex can help cramps," he declares proudly, nudging your throat with the tip of his nose.

“Who were you keeping that detail from, hmm?"

#L's MIDNIGHTS EVENT!#gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo fic #gojo fic

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recklesssturniolo · 6 months

Note

can you do a story where their on tour and us and matt have to be quiet on the tour bus or hotel room pls if you have time🤭

Be Quiet - M.S

As per request! Dom!Matt & in this they’re on tour

A/N: lowkey short I��m sorry don’t hate me

NSFW below, leave if you’re a minor

Being on tour with the boys was incredible, the only shitty thing was the lack of privacy for Matt and I. Our sex life basically going down the drain since tour started. I mean we couldn’t exactly just fuck on our bunk with his brother right across from us. However as I watched Matt brush his teeth, wearing his plaid pyjama pants hanging slightly below his waist and his white tank top, I couldn’t help but get turned on. Watching as his arm flexed as he moved it, paying close attention to his fingers. Recalling in my mind how good they felt inside me. He looks up and makes eye contact with me through the mirror, noticing I was staring and raises an eyebrow at me. I shrug my shoulders in response.

I stand up from the couch, saying goodnight to both Nick and Chris, and climb up into Matt and my bunk, sighing slightly knowing I wouldn’t be getting anything tonight and would likely have to settle for a bathroom quickie at some point tomorrow. Matt joins me shortly after.

“Something got you worked up pretty girl?” He asks while wrapping his arms around me, spooning me.

“Don’t even start Matt, you’re not getting me more turned on than I already am and doing nothing about it” I reply.

“Who says I wouldn’t do anything about it?” He whispers back. I notice his hand slowly creep up my thigh, extremely close to my pussy but he simply rests it there.

“What are you doing?” I say, knowing his brothers were less than another room away. Gasping slightly as his fingers now rest directly on my pussy with him moving them in small circles.

“I’m gonna make you feel good, I know you’ve been wanting this all day. But you have to be quiet okay?” He whispers in my ear, kissing my neck afterwards.

“Okay” I nod back.

“Mm good girl” He responds. Now moving his hand under my panties, his two fingers rubbing down my slits. “So wet already”

“I can’t help it, fuck you look so good and I just want all of you” I whimper out.

“I know I know” He says back.

He moves his fingers upwards, now focusing on my clit. Adding more pressure and moving his fingers in circles, without thinking I let out a whine. Not being able to control it after thinking about this all day.

“I’m gonna have to stop if you can’t stay quiet baby” He mumbles.

“I’ll be quiet I promise please don’t stop” I whisper. Needing him to continue pleasuring me.

He doesn’t respond but instead moves his fingers lower on my pussy again, tracing circles around my entrance and bringing his other hand over to cover my mouth. Pushing on finger into me, I throw my head back. Biting my lip to force myself to stay quiet.

“That’s my good girl. You want me to add another finger?” He smirks.

“Yes Matt please” I whine.

Feeling his other finger enter me, I instinctively open my legs wider and place my own hand over his that’s already covering my mouth. As I do that, he takes his hand off my mouth and moves it to my throat, squeezing it slightly. A moan wanting to escape my lips causing me to push my hand tighter against my mouth.

“F-feels so good oh my god” I say, my voice now below a whisper.

“Yeah? Taking my fingers so well baby, just wait till tomorrow when I’m fucking you senseless” He whispers back.

The thought of that only creating a more intense sense of pleasure within me, craving not just him, but a release. Matt picks up his speed, moving his fingers in and out of me at a much faster pace.

“Listen to that eh? So wet that you can hear each time my fingers go back inside of you” He says.

“M-Matt fuck harder” I whimper.

Taking a minute to adjust his hand, he then proceeds to slam his fingers into me. A gasp leaving my mouth, but due to our hands it was kept quiet, but not quiet enough for Matt not to hear it. I feel him squeeze my throat a bit tighter now.

“That’s feel good baby?” He asks before using his thumb to rub my clit.

“Yes don’t stop don’t stop” I mumble out, feeling my climax almost starting.

“You gonna come for me pretty girl?” He smirks.

“I - yeah fuck Matt” I say.

Matt continues finger fucking me while playing with my clit, the sensation sending me over the edge. As my stomach knots up, I feel myself come. Throwing my head back again and squeezing my eyes shut, Matt’s grip on my throat loosening, and me having to bite my lip to stop myself from moaning out loud.

“Matt I - feels so good holy fuck” I stutter.

“Such a pretty girl coming on my fingers, so patient waiting all day too” He says, leaving kisses along my jaw.

Matt pulls out his fingers, smirking before saying “Open”

I do as he says and he places his two fingers in my mouth, making me lick my juices off of them, before taking them out and placing them in his own mouth.

“Should have ate you out, fuck you taste so good” He sighs

TAGLIST: @sturnphilia @thatonekid536 @cupidisworld @devsturniolo @loveesiren @daddyslilchickenfingers @christinarowie332 @ilovemattsturn @mattenthusiast

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fic #matthew sturniolo #matt x fem reader #matt x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fic #dom!matt

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victoryverse · 1 month

Text

You were just going about your day at work, mindlessly typing away on your computer when you heard a knock on your office door. You turn to see none other than Simon Riley standing there, his signature smirk plastered on his face.

'Hi there, darling,' he purrs, sauntering into your office and closing the door behind him.

'Simon? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out going to the gym--or something?' you ask, trying to keep your cool even though your heart is racing at the sight of him.

'I had some free time and I couldn't resist the opportunity to see you,' he replies, his voice low and seductive.

You can feel the heat pooling between your legs, knowing exactly what he means by 'seeing' you. Simon has been your secret crush ever since you joined the team, but you never had the guts to act on it. But now, with him standing in front of you, all thoughts of professionalism and boundaries go out the window.

'What do you have in mind?' you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

'I was thinking we could have a little fun in here,' he says, gesturing to your office.

Before you can say anything, he grabs your hand and pulls you towards him, crashing his lips onto yours in a fierce, passionate kiss. You moan into his mouth, melting into his touch as his hands roam all over your body. You can feel his hard muscle against your chest and it only heightens the desire burning within you.

'You are so fucking beautiful,' he growls, breaking the kiss and trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

Your hands tangle in his hair as you arch your back, giving him better access. His hands make their way under your skirt, teasingly brushing against your inner thighs before slipping inside your panties. You moan at the feeling of his fingers sliding against your wet folds, his touch sending electric shocks through your body.

'Do you want me, baby?' he whispers in your ear, his fingers circling your clit.

'Yes, god yes,' you gasp, unable to contain yourself any longer.

Without another word, he picks you up and places you on your office table, spreading your legs wider. He looks at you with dark, hungry eyes before diving down and burying his face between your thighs. The sensation is intense and almost too much to handle as he expertly licks and sucks on your clit.

'Fuck, Simon!' you cry out, gripping onto his hair as he continues his assault on your pussy.

He hums against you, sending vibrations that make you teeter on the edge. The sounds of his tongue flicking against your clit and your moans fill the office, making the whole experience even hotter.

'I want you to come for me, (Y/N),' Simon commands, his voice filled with desire.

And with one final flick of his tongue, you explode, your whole body shaking as you ride out your orgasm. Simon doesn't let up, continuing to suck and lick until you're spent and begging him to stop.

He stands up, a smug look on his face as he watches you catch your breath. 'You taste even better than I imagined,' he says, before pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss.

'I want to fuck you now, (Y/N). I've been imagining this for so long,' he says, his voice rough with need.

You nod eagerly, wanting him just as badly. He quickly strips off your clothes and his own, revealing his chiseled body and rock-hard cock. Without any hesitation, he thrusts into you, filling you up completely. You moan at the feeling of him inside you, his movements forceful and relentless.

'Harder, Simon,' you beg, your nails digging into his back.

He obliges, his thrusts becoming faster and more powerful. The table shakes under the force of his movements, but you couldn't care less. All that matters is the pleasure he's giving you and the intense connection you feel with him.

'You're so fucking tight, (Y/N). I can't hold on much longer,' he grunts, his grip on your hips tightening.

You feel your second orgasm building, knowing that he's close too. With one final thrust, you both climax together, shouting each other's names as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

After you both catch your breath, Simon helps you off the table and kisses you once more.

'I always knew you were a wild one, (Y/N),' he says, a satisfied smirk on his face.

'And I always knew you were a filthy fuck, Simon,' you reply, grinning back at him.

You quickly get dressed and straighten up your office, trying to act casual as you head back to work for the rest of the day. But every time you catch Simon's eye, you both know that you share a dirty little secret that no one else will ever know.

~~~

all requests and feedback are always welcome.

#call of duty #cod #call of duty smut #cod smut #ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon riley fluff #simon ghost x you

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 6 months

Text

Eddie has strong feelings for Steve. Feelings he thought he had gotten rid of once Steve rescued him from hell. His hatred of him didn't even make sense, even before all of this. So, because he's a jock he has to be a jerk like all the rest? Eddie had made an assumption about him and Lucas just like they made about him. He hated that he had done that. It hadn't been his proudest moment. Now, those frustrating feelings are resurfacing, which is ridiculous because not only is he a good guy, but he is also a complete dork as well and he's so fucking great with the kids. He should be happy that he's friends with him, so why does his stomach feel like there's a bird trying to get out of its cage when he looks at Steve?

"Eddie, man, why are you scowling at me?" Steve asked.

He was hanging out with Steve, Robin, and Robin's girlfriend, Vickie. It was supposed to be a nice, casual get-together. Of course, Eddie had to ruin it.

"I hate you!" Eddie burst out.

There was silence in the living room as everyone stared at him. Steve looked hurt. Robin looked angry, and if Vickie wasn't holding her back, Eddie was sure she would rip out his throat with her bare hands.

"What?" Steve asked.

"It doesn't make any sense why I do, though!" Eddie burst out. "Because you're a great guy! Fantastic even! When I look at you, I get these feelings in my chest that annoy the fucking shit out of me. Everything about you is so fucking perfect like a goddamn prince out of a storybook! With your perfect hair, your perfect eyes, and your perfect teeth. My God, you're even great with the kids! When you talk about going out on dates, I hate that, too! I know you're just trying to do that to get over Nancy. Speaking of Nancy, I like her and all, but when I think about you two together, it makes my fucking skin scrawl! What the fuck is that? I mean, I like Nancy, but fuck, the idea of you two together makes me want to rip off my own eyebrows and eat them! Jesus H Christ! There's no reason for me to hate you, and yet somehow . . . Wait, why are you guys laughing?"

Vickie was giggling into Robin's shoulder while Robin laughed into a pillow. Steve was laughing with his hands over his eyes.

"He's so cute!" Vickie laughed.

"Why are you guys laughing at me?" Eddie asked. "Stop it!"

"You poor Dingus!" Robin laughed.

"What?!" Eddie asked.

"You like me, Eddie," Steve said.

"Yeah, I like you, but I also seem to hate you," he sighed.

"No, I mean, you like me," Steve said, standing up.

"You said that already," Eddie replied.

"Alright, can I do something so I can get my point across?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, do whatever you want to me, man," Eddie said and Steve grinned widely.

"Within reason, Steven!" Robin exclaimed.

Steve cupped his face and kissed him. Eddie gasped, a jolt of what felt like electricity shot through him. He liked it. The kiss was short and to the point. Steve pulled away.

"Oh, I like you! Oh, thank God! I thought I hated you! Wait, am I gay? No, I still like like girls. . .hold on, give me a minute," Eddie said, raising his finger to do invisible math in the air.

"You like this man, Steve?" Robin asked as they watched Eddie erase something.

"Oh, yeah," Steve replied.

"I've never actually seen someone figure out their sexuality before," Vickie said.

"Oh, I had a chance to do that with Steve. It was a wonderful experience. Definitely a lot less stupid than this," Robin said.

"I like both!" Eddie exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "And I like you!"

"I like both too, Eddie, and I like you too," Steve laughed. "I'm bisexual."

"Bi - sex - u - al," Eddie said like, drawing out the words, and he shook his head from side to side as if rolling the word around in his head. "Yes! Me too! Bisexual! Does this mean this is a double date now?"

Steve grinned, sat down on the love seat, and pulled him into his lap.

"Definitely," Steve said.

"Let me tell you, I feel this huge relief now that I know I like you," Eddie said. "I can't believe I thought I hated you!"

"Dingus!" Robin giggled.

"How long are you guys going to laugh at me about this?" Eddie pouted as Steve shook with laughter beneath him.

"Forever!"

Eddie buried his head into Steve’s neck as he laughed with them, sighing in contentment when Steve kissed his forehead.

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cupid-styles · 8 months

Text

chiffon (grumpy!h)

in which harry is still a grump, but now he has a soft spot for Y/N and wants to protect her at all costs.

word count: 3.5k

content warnings/author's notes: part two of grumpy h!! there will be one more (smutty) part of this series posted one week from today. CWs: one mention of sexual consent in a negative way, description of a bad sexual experience

part one | masterlist | talk to me

Y/N wakes up three hours later in her pitch black bedroom.

She's instantly grateful when she realizes that the persistent migraine has now been demoted to a dull throbbing at her temples, a sign that it should fully fade away within the night.

For a moment, she forgets any of the day's events — that she attempted to go to classes today but stranded herself in Donnolly's office when she couldn't make it home. Even more embarrassingly, that Harry's the one that found her and took her home and— oh my God, she asked him to stay.

If she wasn't still in some sort of pain, Y/N would have shot up in bed and pressed an ear to her door to figure out if he was still here. She figures that that's less painful than going downstairs in a large tee-shirt and a pair of underwear, her preferred sleeping attire, to see if he had destroyed her home yet.

Maybe that's all this was, actually — just a really longwinded attempt for Harry to fully and finally ruin her life by catnapping Ginger or something.

She's deep in coming up with ways Harry could destroy her dwellings when there's a quiet knock on her bedroom door. Her eyes snap open and she croaks out an awkward, "...yeah?", revealing something she never thought she'd ever see in her home: Harry holding Ginger in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other.

"Y'awake?" he asks as he slowly, hesitantly tip-toes inside. There aren't any lights on so it's hard for him to see anything, which Y/N is grateful for — she still has a pile of clean laundry to fold, with pink lacey underwear unfortunately at the top of the basket.

"Um, yeah. I just woke up actually." Y/N finally croaks out. Harry kneels down to let Ginger go and she immediately wanders over to her bed, jumping up to lay at her feet.

"How are you doing?"

"Alright, thanks. It's starting to go away."

"'S good."

Harry clears his throat at the awkward silence that overtakes, putting the ceramic plate down on her desk, "I ordered pizza, I wasn't sure if you'd be hungry when you woke up."

"Oh, thank you," Y/N replies, sitting up slightly and propping herself against the mess of pillows behind her. "Yeah, I've barely eaten in the past few days."

"Oh, here then." Harry murmurs, grabbing the plate and handing it to her. She accepts it gratefully, eager to take a bite.

"You can turn on that lamp for some light if you'd like."

"Do you want it on?" he questions, "Not sure if it'll bother you or... if you wanna see me, or whatever."

"Why wouldn't I want to see you?"

"Because I made you cry."

Y/N shrugs between bites. "Everything makes me cry. It's stupid, like you said."

"I didn't say crying was stupid."

"Mm, you're right," she replies, "You called me pathetic and a church mouse."

Harry cringes as he shifts from foot to foot, awkwardly standing in the dark expanse of her room as she munches on pizza.

"That was really mean of me and I'm very sorry."

Again, she shrugs, reaching the crust with a crunchy bite. "Okay."

He huffs as she finishes the slice. Everything about this girl should piss him off and, in hindsight, it does, but more than yelling at her, he wants to wrap her up in one of the million fuzzy blankets she has on her couch, press a kiss to her forehead, and protect her from everything that's ever made her sad.

"It's not okay, Y/N," Harry mutters. "Do you want another piece?"

"Yes, please. And turn the light on."

Silently, Harry obeys, flicking her lamp on before going back downstairs to retrieve another slice for her. This time, he pours her a glass of water too, figuring that she's thirsty since she didn't have that massive water bottle glued to her side today either.

"Thank you." she mumbles, taking big gulps of water and balancing the plate on her thigh. Harry notices that she still looks exhausted, but she's talking more now, and she's back to having the smidgen of attitude he's only ever seen her have with him. A large, tattered tee-shirt covers her form while her legs are left bare, bits of her thigh peaking out from where her blanket doesn't reach. He swallows, mentally rolling his eyes at himself for getting so jumbled over a sliver of skin.

"You said this migraine was triggered by stress." Harry says as he sits by the edge of her bed, gently stroking Ginger's fur.

"Yeah. They happen a few times a year. I can be kinda bad at managing my emotions and stress and all that."

"What was so bad about it this time?" he asks, "Was it the TA position or are classes especially busy?"

Y/N swallows and bites her lip, glancing down to pick at a thread from her duvet cover. "Yeah, it was the TA position."

"What about it? I can take more of the workload from you if it's too much. We don't have to tell Donnolly about it."

"It wasn't... the workload, Harry," she mutters, keeping her gaze low, "It was you. I spent the weekend trying to figure out if I should transfer out of this lecture and try to switch to a different one. You... hate me so much and I just... didn't want to be in the company of someone who feels that way so openly."

Harry's heart drops. He knows he hasn't given her much an inkling that he feels any different about her, aside from helping her get home today, but if only she knew how much he thought about her this weekend — that he didn't want to go out or hookup with anyone because her face was the only one that crossed his mind. Her silly platform shoes that she can hardly walk in when she's particularly tired after a lengthy stretch of grading, her fuzzy cardigans, her dumb pencil pouches and her favorite red pen that she always uses.

"I don't hate you, Y/N. I'm so sorry I made you think that."

Y/N's watery eyes gaze up at him and his heart constricts again. "You've been so mean to me, though."

"I know," Harry sighs, shaking his head, "I know I have. I didn't mean it. Any of it. You're not pathetic or stupid. Or a church mouse."

"Then why did you say those things?"

He presses his lips together and takes a deep breath. "Because I think you're actually very smart and sweet and pretty, and I can tell that you don't think very highly of yourself, and it bothered me. I wanted you to defend yourself to me and say that you're not any of those things. It pissed me off when you wouldn't... it pisses me off that you're not like any of the people I hang out with, and I still think you're so cool."

Y/N's jaw nearly drops at that, the thought of Harry thinking anything positive about her feeling like a bad joke. How very childish of him, and if was any other person sitting here telling her that, she would politely ask them to leave — but it's Harry, so instead, the thought makes her laugh.

She's giggling and shaking her head, a big, toothy grin on her face. Harry's heart is pounding, and while her smile is so beautiful, it makes him nervous that she'd think this is funny.

"Why... are you laughing?"

"Because that's the silliest thing I've ever heard," Y/N guffaws, wiping away the moisture collecting in her tear ducts, "You're just so— you're silly, Harry, really. Big, grumpy Harry thinks I'm cool, so you decide to be mean to me instead of being my friend?"

Harry lets out a laugh, understanding now how absolutely foolish the whole scenario is. He shakes his head and covers his face with his hands as a warm flush flowers over his cheeks.

"Yeah, that's so fucking dumb." he admits, the small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes making an appearance from his wide smile.

And maybe it's from the lack of sleep, or the fact that she's feeling decent for the first time in days, or the pizza she scarfed down was just that good, but Y/N can't help but notice how pretty Harry looks when he smiles. And so she kneels on the bed, skin digging into the mattress, and reaches out to peel Harry's hands away from his face, gently placing his arms at his sides with a small smile.

Harry swallows loudly and Y/N swears he glances down at her lips for a split second.

"Do you think we could be friends, Y/N?"

She smiles wider, her shoulders relaxing.

"Yeah. I would really like that."

. . .

The transition to friendship is nearly effortless.

Harry realizes that he actually really adores hanging around Y/N, which is more of just a reminder of how awful he was to be so mean to her when they met. In the following weeks, they see each other twice a week at Donnolly's class. He'll typically bring her a coffee or a pastry and make sure she's drinking enough water, to which she'll shoot him a playful glare, showing off her massive 40-ounce water bottle.

("It serves a double purpose, H, it's like a protective device, too!", she'd claimed when he asked about it. In response, he grumbled something about him being able to protect her far better, which makes her giggle and shake her head.)

Grading goes faster because they chat about anything and everything. Harry complains about his housemates, Y/N shows him cute pictures of Ginger, and sometimes, they'll grab dinner afterwards, which makes Harry feel especially thankful because it means he's spent more than half of his day with her. But no matter how many minutes or hours he spends in her presence, he's always left feeling warm and gooey inside, a dopey smile on his lips when they part.

It's gross. But Harry's lying if he says he doesn't love it.

It's a Friday afternoon when they're laying around in Y/N's living room. She's working on a critique for her advanced poetry class and Harry managed to convince her to let him come over a few hours ago—

"I really, really need to see Ginger, I bought her a new toy at the grocery store yesterday," he'd explained when he'd called her 20 minutes after waking up.

"You have to stop spoiling her! She's gonna like you more than me!"

"What's wrong with that?"

Y/N sighs and picks at the fuzzy threads of her pink throw blanket. "Fine, but can you please bring me a coffee?"

"I'm shocked you think I'd come over without one for you."

Harry's fairly good at letting Y/N work in peace. He'll thumb through his current read or play with Ginger while she does whatever she needs to do, but it's approaching 4 pm on a Friday, and he's growing determined to tear her away from her homework.

"What are you doing tonight?" he asks from the carpeted floor, his back against the plushy blue fabric and Ginger perched on his stomach.

"Mm, probably gonna order sushi and watch a movie," Y/N murmurs, looking up at him from above the frames of her blue light glasses, "What bar are you planning on getting drunk at tonight?"

Harry grumbles and sits up, carefully removing Ginger and placing her on the floor. "Why do you assume those are my plans?"

Y/N smiles and shrugs, pulling her lavender cardigan up to cover her shoulder, "Isn't that what you do every weekend?"

"I guess so," he mumbles. "Don' wanna do that tonight, though. Can I hang out with you?"

With furrowed eyebrows, Y/N shuts her laptop and puts it on the coffee table. She purses her lips as she stretches her jean-clad lags out against the length of the couch.

"Sure, but why would you want to do that?"

She doesn't miss the glare he shoots her as he traipses over to the sofa. He lifts her legs so there's room for him to sit down and quickly places them over his lap before she has the opportunity to blush at the physical contact.

"You're much more fun," Harry replies, "I'm craving sushi and I like the idea of cuddling up in your cozy lil' home with you. Is that okay?"

Y/N swallows, and Harry can tell by the way that her eyebrows are slightly drawn together, that she's processing, if not over-thinking. Softly, he taps her ankle once, a hum falling from her plush lips.

"It's alright if it's not. I know you like your alone time, Y/N."

"No, no, it's fine," she rushes out as Ginger jumps up on the couch, making herself at home on Y/N's chest, "I just... you know."

"I know?"

"Yeah. You know."

"Mm, I think you lost me."

She lets out a sigh as her knuckles carefully trace the top of Ginger's head. "I'm not used to people thinking I'm fun."

For a moment, Harry doesn't reply — not because he doesn't know how to, but because it feels like his heart has grown three sizes, just like in The Grinch. He doesn't want to overwhelm her with his feelings for her (that he thinks she's the coolest, most fun, sweetest girl he's ever come across), so he just squeezes her ankle and shakes his head.

"That's stupid," he murmurs, "You're so much fun. Don't think that you're not, okay?"

Y/N peeks up at him through her lashes and takes in the way that Harry's gaze is set on her, his eyebrows knitted together the way they do when he's focusing on reading or grading.

"Okay." she finally says.

"Good. Now, let's order some sushi and decide on a movie."

. . .

"Can I ask you a question?"

Y/N glances up from her Philadelphia roll, chopsticks in hand, to see Harry staring intently at the TV and mid-chew.

He does this often — there will be a comfortable lull in conversation and he'll say those words and ask something absolutely humiliating. Y/N swears he does it just because he likes to see her get nervous. Last time, he did it when they were in the middle of grading and asked what kind of porn she watched. The time before that, they had gotten dinner and were walking back to Harry's car when he wanted to know if she kicks Ginger out when she hooks up with someone.

And, like most things, because it's Harry, she doesn't actually get offended. She gasps and swats at him and hisses his name out, which always makes him cackle, and then gives some half-assed answer — "Harry! You don't need to know that!", or "Ginger has innocent eyes, stop it!".

So this time, she can only wonder what's churning through that stupid boy brain of his. This time, they're not in public but instead in the confides of Y/N's home, which means literally anything could come out of his mouth right now.

"If you have to." Y/N eventually settles on, making him smirk.

"Are you a virgin?"

Y/N nearly chokes on the rice she was chewing. Sure, Harry was open about his previous sexual escapades, but he knows how shy she is. They've never actually broached the subject of her being physical with someone else, as they seemed to function on a don't-ask-don't-tell type of model.

She sets her chopsticks down and clears her throat, looking over to see Harry waiting patiently. "No," she finally answers, "I'm not a virgin."

"Hm."

He goes back to eating his sushi as if nothing awkward has happened and Y/N wants to yell at him.

"What does 'hm' mean? Why did you wanna know?" she presses, because she's her, and she can rarely let anything go.

"Just curious, 's all," he replies with a shrug, "It doesn't mean anything. You know I'm not and I was wondering the same about you."

"Why? Because I'm an introvert?"

"No," Harry quickly shakes his head. He tends to get defensive whenever Y/N brings up her quiet personality, always reiterating that there's nothing wrong with her being timid. "I've just never seen you with anyone and I haven't heard of you going on dates or bringing people back to your place. I didn't know if there was something... blocking you from that."

"Not exactly." Y/N mutters as she stabs another piece of sushi with her chopsticks, bringing it up to her mouth.

"What do you mean?"

"Um... I mean, I'm not a virgin, but I also haven't had sex in like, five years. So."

"That's fine, Y/N," Harry replies easily, sitting back against the couch cushions, "That's not a bad thing at all."

Y/N takes a deep breath. "It's not really... it's not because I haven't wanted to, though."

Her face is on fire now, nerves seeping into her bones as she thinks back to her college years. She's never opened about this to anyone besides a therapist she saw for a few weeks last summer, and even she didn't have anything productive to say.

"You can tell me anything," he says quietly, setting his sushi tray down on the coffee table to shift his posture to face her. "No judgement, you know that."

"It's not about being judged. It's embarrassing, Harry."

He nods his head, a wordless gesture of encouragement. She rolls her lips into her mouth and fists the blanket atop her lap, shutting her eyes.

"There was this guy when I was a sophomore in college. He lived in the same building as me and he was really nice... would always, like, hold the door open for me and make small talk when we were in the elevator. You know it's tough for me to find friends and feel comfortable around people so... I appreciated it, y'know? Anyway, after a few weeks of that, just like, friendly communication, he asks me out on a date. I was really excited because I'd never had someone interested in me romantically before. Or, at least, not enough to ask me out. So we went on a couple of dates and things seemed to be going really well, and we kissed and made out a few times, and then maybe a two or so months later, he asks me if I wanna come hang out in his room."

Harry's breath hitches and she looks up at him. "It's... it was all consensual, just so you know," she quickly clarifies and he nods, his body relaxing slightly. "Long story short, I guess, we slept together. That was my first time. It was fine, it didn't hurt too bad and he treated me pretty well. He went to go shower afterwards and... I was sitting in his bed, getting dressed when I saw he left his phone on his nightstand, and his friends were texting him... I thought maybe they were trying to make plans for the night or looking for him— I know I shouldn't have read them, but I saw my name, and... they, um, made a bet. To see if he could sleep with me. And if he didn't do it within three months of our first date, he'd owe them $100."

"Oh, Y/N," Harry gasps, surging across the length of the couch before she even realizes moisture has built up in her eyes. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his chest, hugging her tightly as the tears flow steadily, a choked sob sounding from her body. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry, baby."

He repeats his apologies until Y/N finally stops crying. Neither of them know how long it's been, but when she breaks apart from the crook of his neck, she realizes she's basically seated in his lap, his strong legs serving as a spot for her to rest. He keeps his arm wrapped firmly around her shoulders, his eyes searching for hers.

"Y/N, I need to tell you something," Harry says softly, his thumb finding her chin so he can look at her tear-streaked face. "I know I was awful to you when we met. I'll never forgive myself for that. But please believe me when I say I will stick around for as long as you'll have me, and I'll always protect you. I will never let anyone hurt you that way ever again. Okay? Do you believe me?"

A month ago, Y/N would have laughed in his face.

Today, Y/N nods without a second thought. It doesn't take 20 seconds of thinking to know that she trusts Harry implicitly, and she tears up again at the thought of finally resting because he's watching over her.

Read part three here! :)

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permanentswaps · 1 month

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New Tricks Pt. 3

Inspired by needsastory. Read Part 1 and Part 2 first!

Ben’s POV

Dad in my body burst back in through the door less than an hour later, his expression a mix of frustration and disappointment. I raised an eyebrow, curious about the sudden return.

"You weren’t gone very long, what happened?" I asked, confused.

Tom let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Kim's parents came back from their vacation early. She wasn't expecting them, but she told me I couldn’t stay the night anymore."

"So, does that mean … ?" I started to ask.

Dad, frustrated, said. "Yeah, we made out a bit, but... we didn't get to fuck," he admitted, a bit frustrated.

"Thank god," I said

Tom shot me a curious look. "Why? You worried I was gonna set expectations too high for when we swap back?"

I hesitated for a moment before explaining, "If you had fucked with her, it might have made the swap permanent. We'd be stuck like this forever."

As I verbalized the thought, a strange mix of emotions washed over me. Despite the initial shock and frustration of being trapped in my dad's body, I was definitely coming around to the idea of staying like this. The prospect of embodying the masculinity and strength I had always admired was strangely appealing.

Dad seemed to sense my conflicting emotions and raised an eyebrow. "You sound almost disappointed," he said, amused.

I chuckled nervously. "Yeah, well... I guess I am.” I admitted, scratching the back of my head awkwardly.

To my surprise, Dad didn't seem fazed by my confession. Instead, he leaned back against the door frame, crossing his arms thoughtfully. "You know, even if this isn't permanent, maybe we should consider staying like this for a bit," he suggested, his tone surprisingly earnest.

I stared at him in disbelief, caught off guard by his proposal. But as I mulled over his words, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within me.

"Yeah," I replied slowly, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Maybe we should."

Tom’s POV

Over the next week, I found myself surprisingly at ease in Ben’s routine.

I really liked hanging out with Ben's friends. They were a cool group, each with their own quirks and personalities. One of his friends, in particular, stood out to me - Colin. We chatted a lot at school, sharing jokes and stories between classes. It was easy to see why Ben enjoyed his company so much.

"So, you coming to watch the game tonight?" Colin asked, tossing his backpack over his shoulder as we walked to our next class.

I nodded, a smile playing on my lips. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. You ready to crush it out there on the field?"

Colin grinned, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "You know it, man. We're gonna dominate!"

Later that day, Colin and I stood on the sidelines, watching the girls' soccer team play before the boys went on. I couldn't help but admire Kim. She was a force to be reckoned with on the field, her determination evident in every move she made.

"Damn, she's really good," Colin said, nudging me with his elbow.

I quickly looked at him before shifting my attention back to the field and grinning. "Yeah, she's something else, isn't she?"

But my attention didn’t stay focused on the field for long. Stealing another quick glance at Colin, I began to admire him too. His hair tousled from his earlier warm-up run, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on his skin - he was undeniably cute.

"You okay, man?" Colin asked, noticing my distraction.

"Yeah, just... admiring the view," I replied casually, hoping he wouldn't pick up on the sudden shift in my thoughts.

As the week progressed, I couldn't shake the realization that Ben might be a bit of a repressed bisexual. It wasn't a problem for me - I had already come to terms with being gay and was out and proud. But I made a mental note to ask him about it when we switched back.

Despite the newfound comfort in Ben's life, there was still a lingering sense of sadness. I missed the muscles I had worked so hard for, the physical strength that had become a part of my identity. But as I looked around at Ben's friends, at the camaraderie and laughter they shared, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to take a walk in his shoes, if only for a little while.

Ben’s POV

Over the next week, I found myself reveling in the virility of my new body. It was a strange sensation, feeling the raw power coursing through my veins, the result of years of dedication and hard work that had sculpted my dad's muscular physique.

I indulged in activities that I had only dreamed of before. With each passing day, I spent more time in the gym, pushing my body to its limits and relishing in the sensation of strength and vitality that surged through me.

But despite the exhilaration of my newfound physical prowess, there were moments when the tension built up, the strain of unfamiliar muscles protesting against the strain of my workouts. It was then that I decided to treat myself to a massage, hoping to alleviate the knots and tightness that had accumulated over the week.

As I entered the massage parlor, I was greeted by a super attractive guy, somewhere between my current age and my old body’s age. His warm smile and soothing demeanor immediately put me at ease, and I couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in my chest as he led me to the massage room.

"So, what brings you in today?" the masseur asked, his voice gentle and inviting as he prepared the massage table.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the nerves that fluttered in my stomach. "Just feeling a bit tense lately. Thought a massage might help."

He nodded understandingly, motioning for me to lie down on the table. "Don't worry,m you're in good hands," he reassured me with a wink, causing my heart to skip a beat.

As his skilled hands began to work their magic, kneading away the tension that had built up in my muscles, I couldn't help but relax into the sensation. It was like all the stress and worries of the past week melted away under his touch, leaving me feeling lighter and more at peace than I had in ages.

"Wow, you're really good at this," I murmured appreciatively, my eyes drifting shut as I surrendered myself to the blissful experience.

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "Just doing my job," he replied modestly, though there was a hint of pride in his voice.

As the massage continued, lost in the sensation of his hands moving over my body with practiced skill. Eventually, his hands made their way down to my waist and torso. Quickly, I felt my cock start to harden and peak through the towel he had laid across my lap.

“I am so sorry.” I apologies profusely, my cheeks turning red.

“No worries at all.” He said, trying to hide a smirk. “Happens all the time”

“Should we stop.” I ask.

He hesitated. “Normally I would say that we should take a break, but,” he winked at me, “that's not really want I want to do with a guy like you.”

He swiftly to grasped my dick before taking it all in his mouth and continuing to rub my muscles with his hands. As he sucked me off on the table, I arched my back and raised my arms up to flex towards the ceiling. In that moment of ecstasy, I thought to myself.

“There is no way I am ever giving this body up.”

I gently stroked his chin with my thick fingers, guiding him up to kiss me. Then, whispering in his ear, I said. “How about I make you feel good too.” Before grabbing his ass.

He quickly took off the rest of his clothes and straddled me over the table before we started making out again. As he lowers his ass, I begin teasing his hole with my cock. He feels up my biceps again and moans, “oh you’re so sexy daddy.”

That's all the confirmation I needed. I thrust upwards, holding onto his waist with both hands, and feel my thick cock enveloped by his warm hole. Immediately I feel a bit dizzy, but as quickly as the feeling comes, its replaced by a sense of incredible clarity. In that moment I knew, I was Tom, forever.

Tom’s POV – Epilogue

Three years had passed since my dad made the swap permanent, and while I was initially upset, I couldn't deny that I had lucked out.

Sure, I no longer had a super muscular physique, but my new body was undeniably cute, and that counted for something.

Once I knew this was my life to live, I made some changes. First thing was I decided to break up with Kim. It wasn't an easy choice, but as I came to terms with my evolving identity, I realized that my heart belonged elsewhere. Despite this new body being bisexual, I found that my preferences leaned heavily towards guys. I also, began to update my style, since, unlike dad, I didn't care about what the other guys at school would say.

About a year after the swap, I met my boyfriend, Zander. He was everything I had ever dreamed of in my old life- kind, funny, and super super romantic. With him by my side, I felt like I could take on the world.

In a twist of fate, I also found unexpected success as a model in my new body. While Dad had always complained about his delicate features – in the model industry they were actually an asset. And besides, he was always concerned that people thought he looked gay, but now, with me in control, this body was gayer than it had ever been.

Now I make an absolute killing, and I get to enjoy the perks of fame and fortune while still in my twenties. Even though I didn’t choose this body, I now can’t even imagine living my life any other way.

Ben’s POV – Epilogue

I know what you're probably thinking - I must be crazy for giving up my old body. And yeah, maybe I am a little crazy, but it's a decision I don't regret in the slightest.

Since the swap, Benji - as he now prefers to be called - has thrived in my body. It's like he's living out the life he always wanted but never had the chance to before. And I have to admit, seeing him so happy and fulfilled brings a sense of warmth to my heart.

As for me? Well, I've found myself exploring a whole new side of life that I never knew existed. I’ve kept on hitting the gym, and I think it looks even better than when Benji was still controlling it.

Dating guys might not have been something I ever imagined myself doing, but there's something undeniably freeing about it - like shedding the expectations and constraints of my old life and stepping into something new and exciting.

While Benji may be going steady in my old body, I haven’t slowed down at all. There’s constantly a new twink in my bed, begging to be railed by me. Even though each twink is cuter than the last – I still regret that I am related to my old body, otherwise I would’ve fucked him a long time ago. That said, he would never do the kinky stuff I’m into now. Now, every Grindr hookup we experiment with leather, bondage, BDSM … and I always go in raw so that I can fill their insides with my seed. After all, with a body like this, life is too short to play it safe.

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zoropookie · 1 month

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HOW HATERS ARE BORN (HHAB)

♡ chapter sixteen — doxxing is okay sometimes 💋

The entire drive back to your house, Scaramouche wondered why he was always put into compromising situations. It wasn't the late hour, or the otherwise deserted roads other than the usual few vehicles being dime a dozen.

No...it was that he was chauffeuring the only person he didn't want to be within a ten foot pole radius from. Softly, your laughter was still emitting from your lips as your head lolled back and forth.

His eyebrows knitted together in frustration, grip tightening on the steering wheel. He was annoyed, but knowing this was the quietest that he'll ever see you was more comforting than not being perceived.

Texts from his phone illuminating a section under his arm as his eyes kept flicking back and forth, he knew it was Ei bothering him again. Her poking and prodding the gnawing that he always felt being around her.

Pulling into your driveway, he brought his car in enough to quickly get you out. Tohma quickly headed into eye view to hurry towards the other side of the door. "Thank you so much. I don't know what I'd do if they weren't able to get home."

He sighed in response, turning off the engine. "Is that all?"

"Yeah...(Y/N)?" Tohma paused, his gaze lingered on you. "They're completely out."

"Keen observation." Scaramouche sarcastically quipped.

Tohma looked at the other before hesitantly rounding you up, careful not to jostle you as he helped your limp body out of the car. Your body soon enough became less languid, eyes slowly opening.

You mumbled something unintelligible in response, your words slurred. "Scaramouche," You made out, blinking blearily before you felt a certain rage overcome your body again. "Where is he?!"

Your steps were unsteady as you leaned against Tohma for leverage, but you were also thrashing to turn and find the person you were screaming at through Twitter earlier.

"(Y/N)...take it easy-!" His words were drowned out by your fervent rage, your gaze was wild as you scanned the surroundings, only to see the very person you were talking about.

"YOU." Your voice rose to a shout, staggering towards him. "Had some nerve coming to my house!" You shouted, tears welling in your eyes as your vision went in and out, "My friends hate me because of you! I will fucking see to it that you are destroyed by my very hands!" You screamed, causing Tohma to panic.

"I'm really sorry! Thank you...again-! (Y/N), please stop." Tohma struggled out. He felt like he was on the verge of a brain aneurysm any second now.

He lunged towards you to hold you back from attacking Scaramouche, but as soon as you did that, you were about to speak again. And then you regurgitated, your body convulsed until you were retching violently, doubling over.

"Oh my god," Tohma mouthed silently, his body frozen.

It was a sight to behold - Scaramouche's dark clothes were colored in a murky brown shade of vomit. But instead of what Tohma thought he was going to do, it was the complete opposite. He didn't recoil in horror, he didn't scream or curse, he simply just stood there, expression unreadable.

He was probably so pissed off that he forgot that he was initially having a horrible day.

"Okay! Okay!!" Tohma said in between two deep breaths, holding you in between his arms even tighter despite your struggling. "Scaramouche. Please let me help you clean up before you leave."

“No.” He replied with a sudden urgency that seethed through his teeth, flicking some of the chunks of sick off of his fingers. “Absolutely not. I’m going home.”

“I’m saying this with all due respect despite everything you’ve done. You can’t go home looking like that, I won’t let you.”

previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

YOU ARE on your way to being one of the hottest streamer in your nation at the moment, racking a monthly average of 10 million viewers, but something specific bothers you about it. you know that a lot of people hate you, but there's this one account. one account that's been following you since the early days of your career. they leave a flood of rude comments in your stream, your moderators banned each account they made, but they keep making more. you are at the end of your tether. but you are yet to find out that this persistent cockroach is none other than your friend's friend (and the only other streamer that's bigger than you), scaramouche.

taglist ♡ @thystarsshine @veekoko @gumickajolli @simonisferal @kamiboo @justpeachyteastea @feiherp @pinkismyfavcolor @aether-darling @melpomenelurks @keiiqq @mine-lu @featuredtofu @danhenglovebot @k4zushi @kyon-cherri @1lellykins @iiinaurate @quacking-simp @auroratumbles @kookiibun @ulquiorraswife @pichulakkjkk @simplysm1le @h3xi2g0n3 @alatusorrow @scaranthropy @mellowberrie @magica-ren @vernith @kabukipookie @bananasquash @suqarlaced @dellalyra @lightyagamifan @yourfavoritefreakyhan @heartsforseo @yomishen @pwushizz @swivy123 @strxwberryfetish @ibyobi @ashfrommars4 @chemiru @ainnofinway @agaygothicmushroom @levianamor (bold users means i'm having trouble tagging you)

#zoropookie #hhab #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche #genshin #genshin impact #genshin smau #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin x yn #scaramouche x yn #scaramouche x you

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chosos-mascara · 1 year

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good girl

𝙩𝙤𝙟𝙞 𝙛𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙤 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - after accompanying toji to the zen'in residence, he wants to thank you.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - cunnilingus, toji calls reader a good girl, fingering, dom!toji, dilf!toji

minors + ageless dni 1.4k words

"Wanna get out of here?" The voice beside you asked, and for a moment, you felt your heart skip a beat. Swirling your legs in the pool, you bunched your dress in one hand, standing, wet feet leaving footprints on the concrete beneath them as you picked up your heels. Without the extra height, Toji had appeared much larger - not just taller, but broader, too. The rolled up sleeves of his white button down had exposed strong forearms, an outline of veins coursing under the skin, and as your gaze had drifted upwards, you ogled over the bulge beneath the thin cotton, humps of muscle displaying the discipline Toji had over his physique.

He brought you through the side gate of the garden, a quick exit doused in secrecy as the pair of you had made way to his car, the sleek black vehicle within your sights bringing relief over you. "I didn't think they were a bunch'a misogynists." Toji sighed, turning the key in the engine before pulling away, accelerating quickly to make it back to his apartment. "It's fine." Your reply was quiet as you twiddled with the straps on the heels in your lap, watching the night pass by the windows.

Toji had brought you to the Zen'in's, a classy meal hosted by none other than Naoya scheduled to introduce Toji back into the family, an attempt at recovering what they'd lost. Of course, that had referred to Megumi and his inheritance of the clan's technique, less so to Toji, and not at all to yourself. Not that you'd wanted to be a part of the deal anyway, but you'd wanted to offer moral support to your partner. The night had gone sour within an hour, and you'd been thankful the pair of you'd left Megumi with Gojo instead of bringing him, too.

After an outburst from Naoya, you'd gone to sit in the garden, dipping your toes into the pool to have a moment of solace. There had been shouting shortly after, before the door had slid open and Toji had come to save you from the hell-hole the pair of you'd had to walk within.

"Thanks for joining me, anyways." Toji spoke one you'd dragged yourselves through the door and into the apartment. He'd felt a pang of guilt for what you'd had to hear while within the Zen'in's presence, a bunch of old bastards with the newest scumbag appearing to surpass the others within the 'slimey rat' department. "You're too good to me." Voice barely a whisper, he brought two hands to your face, a light kiss planted to your forehead.

"I am." You giggled, smiling. Looking up to his face, you took a moment to admire his features, the thin green eyes, scar over his lip. At times like this, you'd felt as if in the presence of a God rather than a man, his natural beauty striking. "Wanna show you how amazin' you are," Toji placed a kiss over you again, fingers tightening over your cheeks when his lips met your skin. After a few pecks, he pulled back, watching as you shied away under his hands, warmth bestowed into them as you'd been flushed with embarrassment. "-such a good girl."

Toji knew his praise is what you'd valued most, his approval, his opinion. You'd put him on a pedestal since you'd started dating, something Toji couldn't understand but had appreciated, every second with you, he'd felt safe. He'd felt loved. All Toji had wanted to do was show you how much you'd meant to him too; usually through acts of service. His lips trailed to your jawbone, flowing to your neck and taking the thicker skin between his teeth, sure to leave marks to be seen in the morning. With your head tiled back, you accepted his display of worship, goosebumps scattering across your arms as his fingers dragged over the silk dress, pulling at the hem and rolling the sleeves from your shoulders.

With the fabric falling to pool at your feet, Toji knelt before you. Still in the hall beside the front door, you'd leant against the wall as he'd taken one of your legs, knee bending over his shoulder as he planted gentle kisses on your inner thigh, your hands weaving into his hair. The black locks wrapped around your fingers, and when tugging on the roots, he'd exhaled a breath to fan over your thigh, sending shivers over your spine. Toji moved the cotton of your panties to the side, a broad finger running across your slit, the tip teasing into your hole, only shallowly sitting before he'd chuckled, corner of his mouth curving. "So wet f'r me." The sentence had been short lived, his lips suddenly attaching to the sopping cunt before him to lap up the fluids he'd coaxed from you with his kisses.

His name tumbled from your mouth as he'd swirled over your clit, a gentle groan when he'd tasted your arousal, finger finally slipping into you to curl in and out in synchrony with his tongue's movements. Before long, the obscene sounds of his finger plunging deep into your cunt, mixing with wetness and saliva had filled the walls you'd resided within, heavy breaths and contorted expression as your head hit the wall behind you. If Toji hadn't steadied you with his free hand, the brick supporting your weight with your leg atop his shoulder, you'd have fallen, knees week.

Your heavy lids opened to glance at his face between your thighs, tousled black hair falling over his head, eyes fixed on your gaze, mouth wide and tongue flickering over you. The eye contact had made you uneasy for a few moments, but when his mouth had curved upward into a smirk while still open and lapping at your juices, you'd pushed aside the embarrassment. Below his face, you could see the movement of his wrist as his fingers had bullied in and out of you, clenching around him when laying eyes on the sight before you.

He pulled back, face thick with sheen, smile wide. The digits remained at the pace they'd worked at previously, though he'd stretched a thumb upward to graze over our clit, making up for the lack of contact from his tongue. Toji pressed a few open mouth kisses on your thigh, head tilted to the side and mouth still pressed to your skin as he spoke aloud once more. "Do you know how much you mean t' me?" His voice was rough, doused in raggedness as his chest had risen and fallen at a slightly increased pace - he'd been putting in work for your pleasure. "I feel c-close Toj'." You'd whined, hips bucking as you'd tugged at his locks once more, desperately trying to get his lips back over your clit. "I'll let you cum baby, jus' do one thing f'r me." Toothy grin, he'd spoken, another nip at the fat of your leg. A whine fell from you, profuse nodding while you'd fought to keep your eyes open and locked to his. "Tell me you're a good girl. Let me hear you say it." His voice, hoarse and raspy, accompanied by a curl of his fingers, brushing against your g-spot, you hiccuped, gritting teeth before completing his request. "I-I'm a good girl. Your good girl." Once the phrase had been spoken, his tongue was back on your clit, and you slackened up, finally allowing yourself to release the build up within your body.

Toji allowed you to ride through your orgasm, stuttered humps over his face accompanied by sweet whines; music to his ears. He'd drank every bit of juice you'd offered him, relishing the taste even after your high had fizzled out, sucking at your folds. One thing about Toji, is that he'd never let a drop of you go to waste, often humming at the sensation of being between your legs, tongue plush to pussy.

#toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji smut #toji x reader oneshot #toji x reader smut #anime smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x reader smut #jjk smut #jjk thirst #jjk drabble #toji drabble #dilf toji #jjk dilfs #jjk x reader #jjk self insert #toji one shot #toji imagine #fushiguro x reader

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blood-orange-juice · 2 months

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Inspired by a discord discussion.

I keep seeing characters from snowy places portrayed as unbothered by cold or missing it, and every time I remember that it's completely counterintutive if you didn't grow up in freezing temperatures

So I thought I should write this post.

We are very bothered by cold. We are way more bothered by cold than southerners. Being bothered is what keeps you safe. Warmth is a resource.

There are few lucky people who simply never get cold (mostly guys of endomorph body type) but it's not a given and generally northerners start to complain and wear warm coats at the tiniest hint of cold.

Humans can only adjust up to a certain threshold.

For example, Irish and British winters allow you to ignore weather almost completely (you'll be miserable but you'll probably live), so there's a culture of stoicism, not heating your house above 16-18°C (60-65°F), wearing shorts and sandals (and a Very Big Scarf) when it's snowing and all that.

(I quickly got used to leaving the bathroom window open at 4°C when I was living there. who cares really)

So there's a common misconception that you can do the same with even colder weather.

However, once you are past that adjustment threshold (for most people it takes as little as -5..0°C/23..32°F lasting for more than a month per year) there can be no special built-in resistance to that type of cold (unless you are a yogi or a Taoist monk), instead you learn a bunch of behaviours that help you. You start to preserve warmth religiously.

You also start to differentiate between types of being cold and avoid some of them (some build up over time and it wears you down, so it's best to avoid them entirely). Anything that drops your core temperature (this is noticeable long before you start shivering, shivering is the equivalent of fire alarm) is a huge no. Fingers getting a bit numb from building a snow castle is nothing major though.

It can be hard to unlearn that even if you moved to a warmer place years ago.

Stoic northern characters who have moved to a warmer country are very likely to Complain About The Cold.

They'll start wearing coats at higher temperatures than southerners (because, well, the weather might get worse, or you might stay outside longer than you planned, or move less).

They'll get cold hands more often because their body panics at the tiniest signs of cold and diverts blood to the centre (my first impression of the Irish was how warm everyone was when we shook hands. I'm the same now).

Most will heat their houses to the point where it's possible to walk around in a t-shirt no matter how cold it is outside (those who don't will comment "thank gods that people don't do that in your country, I hated it back home").

They'll whine at +5°C (40°F).

Apart from heavier clothes they'll have a bunch of weird habits like Walking Really Fast when the weather is bad (it's for when you don't want to wear heavier clothes).

They might have a fondness for scarves and good winter shoes (warm shoes and a warm hat are even more important than a warm coat. the lack of hats in fantasy upsets me. scarves are less important but they are pretty).

When locals get surprised they'll reply with "yes, but this is *damp* cold, *dry* cold is different" (it's more complicated than that but this answer usually stops further questions, so we go with that).

It's not like they are actually less cold-resistant, they just take cold more seriously.

At the same time they can be weirdly unbothered by things that freak some of the southerners out because they know how their body deals with low temperatures and which things have no consequences.

(it's not something that you learn from books, it's practical knowledge of what you personally can get away with. for example, I often get completely numb thighs during winter walks, takes an hour to start feeling anything when I get home. but I know it's all right as long as my feet are warm and my core temperature is within normal range)

They also won't suffer consequences when it gets truly cold, while more nonchalant southerners won't notice when they get borderline hypothermic or just cold enough to get sick.

They'll probably consider -30°C (-22°F) exciting. It becomes enjoyable again, because the outside world is now a death zone and there's some macabre fun in resisting it. Oh, and your eyelashes get covered in frost and it looks dope. What's not to like.

Kids will make a point to eat ice cream outside in -30°C (no, they won't get sick from it). I can't explain it, it just works like that.

Generally people from colder countries are not bothered by cold if they can return to a warm place soon enough, it's the prolonged exposure to cold (even mild) they are worried about. Going out for a smoke without a coat is common.

If they are still in a cold country, it's also a bit different from what you expect.

There's a trope of drinking to keep warm. It doesn't work like that. You can drink alcohol to feel warm but not to keep warm and it's an important difference. When it's cold your body's proper response is to constrict blood vessels and to divert blood flow from extremeties to slow down the loss of warmth. Alcohol reverts that.

This means it's perfectly appropriate to drink eggnog or mulled wine at a fair (when you are supposed to get to warmth soon enough, so the illusion of not being cold is not harmful) or hard spirits when you get back from the cold (it will help you warm up faster), but not if you are staying in a cold place. During a hike through winter woods a thermos with sweetened tea and fatty food are your best friends.

Some won't know it and get drunk and frostbitten/hypothermic. People are stupid.

Food gets weird, fats start to seem even tastier than usual. People in Antarctic expeditions are known to crave sticks of butter. In certain weather sandwiches with frozen lard are delicious.

Anything can and will be made into tea.

Some tropes I personally disagree with.

Pain. Pain levels depend on the weather. Cold eases any kind of external pain (cuts or burns) but makes worse anything internal (broken bones, cramps, most headaches).

Hypothermia feels nothing like peacefully falling asleep. It's the most miserable state I've ever experienced, psychological trauma doesn't even come close.

Well, maybe there are people who do fall asleep but other people I've talked to seem to share my experience.

I'm not sure how exactly it works, I think it messes up your self-regulation, since most chemicals in your body require a certain temperature range to work properly. Basically you become Not Yourself. Your emotions go whack (usually it's either extreme self-pity or extreme anger). It feels awful. I hope you never get to experience it.

Most of us don't really miss cold.

Well, some perverts do, but there's a general consensus that cold is awful.

We do miss some things that only happen during cold days though. The stillness and the quiet or how pretty snow looks. How bright the stars are on a clear night. The colour of sunsets and twilight sky when it's freezing.

(in my opinion, the best experience happens around -5°C, it's already pretty but the world is not a death zone yet)

There's also an appreciation of contrast with things that are Not Snow.

Walking from the cold into a greenhouse with orchids.

Watching a blizzard rage outside your window while you sit in warmth with a cup of tea.

Jumping into a lake straight out of a sauna (then going back. do not do that if you have a heart condition).

Fireplaces. Holiday food. Mulled wine. Saffron in pastry.

There's also a lot of beauty in the world that is frozen. I keep stumbling upon the fact no one around me shares these experiences anymore and it saddens me.

The xylophone sound of first ice being broken by a passing boat.

Sea moving under the ice — when it's not too thick it rises and falls like some large animal breathing.

The whale-song-like sounds of ice cracking on large lakes.

There's a very special mood of waiting for first snow. The world is too cold and dark without it and then you wake up one night from the sudden quietness (snow muffles all sounds) and you know it's there even before you look out of the window,

There's the exhiliration of spring. The moment when the wind starts to have a scent — thawing snow smells a bit like watermelons but clearer. Winter smells like nothing at all.

The first tiny yellow flowers in mud. They are our hanami.

(I don't think anyone in Europe truly appreciates spring if they are not from Nordic or Baltic countries)

There's a certain attunement to the scent of ice too.

Like that barely perceptible tingle in the air in late September, long before you can see any ice.

I feel the scent of ice when there's wind from the right part of the Atlantic. No one ever notices but it's there. I love it.

It's nostalgic in a way.

But it's never missing the cold itself for me. For very few people it is, I think.

This is, of course, personal perspective and my experience is not universal. I'm a person from continental climate with harsh winters and hot summers and a city dweller with occasional visit to country houses and a tiny bit of mountaineering experience.

An indigenous person from a place with barely any summer or a character from a fantasy everwinter country will probably differ from me.

There are, after all, simply people who genuinely love cold. A lot of them. It is, however, not the default northerner's experience.

But hey, it's still more complex than it's usually written.

If you want to read something focused on winter descriptions, there's Smilla's Sense of Snow by Peter Høeg.

It's hauntingly beautiful prose and the main character is from Greenland.

‘It’s freezing, an extraordinary -18 °C, and it’s snowing, and in the language which is no longer mine, the snow is qanik – big, almost weightless crystals falling in stacks and covering the ground with a layer of pulverized white frost.’

And then there's Moominland Midwinter. I think it gets better when you read it as an adult and it's probably still the best thing I have ever read about winter solstice.

Anyway.

I think we need more good winter stories.

#'the centre of the universe is always warm' says one of our poets #and I still live by that #writing #snow

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yawnderu · 8 months

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Miguel O'Hara x Catgirl!Reader

based on one of my favorite roleplays♡ I'll be writing more about catgirl!reader, watch me.

Ngl, not fully satisfied with this one but here we go.

CW: manipulation (coming from the reader), blowjob, deepthroat, face fucking, face slapping, cum swallowing, choking on dick.

"I hate you." Miguel mumbles as you wrap your arms around him, too damn tired to try to pull away from you. He knows it's futile even if he tried, you'd keep clinging to him like a leech. And maybe that's exactly what you are.

God, he hates you. He can't stand all your teasing, or how the only reason you come back to him is his money. He can't stand how you broke down his walls within months, walls he had spent years carefully crafting to avoid this exact same situation.

"Oh, but you love me." You said teasingly, your face against his pecs as you kept rubbing your cheeks on the supple skin. You know he hates whenever you touch his chest, especially after that "nice tits, O'Hara" comment, yet it's so much fun to annoy him. To see the man who stands tall and proud crumble down. Miguel doesn't say anything, simply rolling his eyes as he gently pushes your head away from his chest.

"Puta madre... no puedo más." Miguel mumbles softly, holding the bridge of his nose between his fingers as his eyes close. He doesn't even know why he's dealing with you— he could easily make you go away, yet something about you makes him feel alive for the first time since he lost his daughter. You're a breath of fresh air from all the nightmares, although you're a nightmare yourself.

"Then maybe I should find another man to fund my things, no?" You asked teasingly, knowing damn well Miguel would rather die than allow that. You know he's possessive of you, you know he'd hate to see you go to another man for anything. He would give you the world if you asked for it.

"You know I can't let that happen." He finally looks down at you, pure annoyance on his face, yet his eyes show just how much the idea bothers him. "A man buying you things? I would end him." And it's true. If Miguel could be more honest with himself, he would be. He's very possessive of you, despite the fact that he's fully aware he's being manipulated and used for what he can provide. He already spent too many nights hating himself for allowing it, he already came to terms with it.

"Aw... and what if another man touches me? What if I like it?" Your words make him visibly tense up and he can feel the sensation of his fangs starting to come out. He knows you want a reaction out of him, and for whatever reason, he's giving it to you. It should be okay since you're both alone in his house, no?

"He'd be dead before he could even try to touch you." Miguel replies, dead serious and firm. His voice is a tad bit less sharp, but when it comes to you and other men, his protective instincts kick in.

"You're mine and no one else's. Forever." And just to make a point, he holds your face as he speaks, long fingers holding your jaw with surprising gentleness.

"And what if—" You can't even finish your sentence before Miguel squeezes your face.

"Cállate." His voice is sharp as he snaps back at you, and he's not sure whether he wants to punch or kiss you. He looks down at you with pure annoyance. His 6'9 behemoth frame would intimidate anyone, yet you're simply grinning up at him like an idiot, looking proud about pissing him off. His gaze drifts down to your lips, admiring the plump flesh before, against his better judgment, his thumb teasingly rubs your lower lip.

"Eres tan linda, pero tan cruel." He speaks softly, almost as if he was putting his thoughts into words. You open your mouth slightly, allowing his thumb into your mouth as you begin sucking on it teasingly, your tongue gently rubbing on the bare skin as he disengages the suit on his hand only.

"Dios mío." He can feel himself starting to get hard beneath his tech suit, thinking back on all the times you've sucked him off.

You never did any sexual favors for money, you simply did it as a reward for him. To keep him interested and enamored with you, and it worked. It always worked, all you had to do was get on your knees and look up at him with those pretty, doe eyes.

He disengaged the suit on his crotch, his fat cock coming out and gently landing on your cheek, making you giggle softly. Your paw went up to slowly stroke his shaft as your tongue began to teasingly lick the tip of his dick, the taste of his precum all over it. Miguel hissed as you licked the slit of his tip, his hand now resting on your head, scratching the back of your ear softly, knowing how pleasant is is for you.

"Buena chica." He praised softly, his eyes closing as you began to suck him off, slowly taking more and more of his big cock into your mouth. He helped you by gently pushing your head towards his hips, groaning at the feeling of your tight throat swallowing him up. Both of his hands went to the sides of your head, starting to thrust into your throat deeply, yet still holding back to not hurt you.

"Así, así..." He mumbled as he fucked into your throat, holding you in place once he was fully inside, your nose hitting his well-groomed happy-trail before he began slamming into you again, his fangs now coming out as he got lost in the sensation of your warm throat. You may hold the cards in whatever relationship you two had, but he was always the one in control whenever his dick was inside any of your holes.

"You need it just as bad as me, mutt." His voice is rough and raspy, eyes fluttering as he thrashes into your throat, pulling out only to give you the chance to breathe. You greedily gasp for air, coughing softly as your throat finally has an air flow. Miguel jerks himself off while staring at you, moving the tip of his dick all over your cheek, smearing it with your own spit and his precum.

He waits until you nod your head, lifting your face with one hand as his other one delivers a hard slap to your cheek before he starts to fuck your face again, the stinging feeling of the slap and his cock all the way down your throat making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Miguel is using you like a sex-toy, yet the feeling is always too good to care. These are the only moments he gets to have any control in your relationship, no matter what.

"Mierda..." He hisses out as he bites his lip to prevent a guttural moan to escape his mouth. He looks so pretty like this; eyebrows furrowed slightly, his face covered by a thin layer of sweat, nose slightly scrunched fangs bared as he focuses on fucking your face. His thrusts begin to get more sloppy after a few minutes, and it's clear he won't last long.

With one last deep thrust and a loud groan, he slams his cock all the way down your throat, forcing you to swallow all his warm and sticky cum. Miguel cums a lot, and you're forced to deal with it. Coughing and struggling for air, yet he doesn't pull his dick out, not until he's sure you swallowed all of it.

"Good girl." He praises, sighing softly as he pulls his cock out gently, laying it down on your face as you struggle for air, tears rimming your eyes as you cough. A satisfied smirk sets on his lips as you look up at him with a grin.

"How much money did you need again?"

#miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman atsv #astv #across the spiderverse #miguel x you

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watermelonlovershigh · 10 months

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can we have a scenario with Harry where the R is on her period and throwing up and harrys just trying his best to comfort her 😫🥺🥺

AN: i hope i did your request justice. luckily i've never had to experience throwing up from my period so i don't know how it's exactly like. so i just hope its kinda sorta accurate in how i describe the cramps making reader feel and get sick. also whoever requested this, please let me know what you think. feedback is really important for us writers.

This story contains: fluff, period leaking (kinda), being sick (puking) due to period cramps, comfort

{ boyfriendrry - soft!harry - think of fine line harry era - harry is not famous in this story }

word count- 2,173

While staying the night at your boyfriend Harry's house, you get your period and then end up getting sick due to painful period cramps.

You've known Harry for about two years. For most of those two years you were just friends. But about a month ago you finally confessed your harboring feelings for each other and now you're officially a thing. A couple. Dating more or less.

Yes you both were scared that if something happened with your relationship that your friendship would be over, but you just had to have a little bit of faith. Faith that no matter what happened your friendship comes first and foremost.

Now because this relationship is fairly new, Harry hasn't seen you at your most vulnerable states yet. Most vulnerable states as in when you're crying or sick or even the ups and downs you go through with your period. Well besides sex because you're both impatient, horny people. Because when you two were just friends, you were mainly friends within a friend group. Meaning you weren't like the closest friends ever.

Though over time you became closer as just friends and that's how you both realized you had feelings for each other. Still, Harry had yet to see you at your low points. But tonight that all changes.

Tonight, you were planning to spend the night at Harry's house. You've spent most nights at his house since becoming girlfriend and boyfriend if you're being honest. You just love the comfort Harry and his home brings to you.

Now unlike most nights that you stay over, you told Harry beforehand that you weren't in the mood for sex. You're not sure why but you had this pit feeling in your stomach that was secretly warning you of what's to come and that made you not want sex tonight.

You even told him if he'd rather you not come over because you didn't want sex to just tell you. But Harry just laughed through the phone and said that was ridiculous. That of course he still wants you to stay over. He doesn't just want to see you because of the sex. He loves you more than that.

The night started off well. Harry had ordered some chinese take-out and you both ate the delicious food while watching a romcom on his sofa. Eventually after you finished eating, you ended up cuddling into one another on the couch with a big fluffy blanket over top of you. That is until you felt the all too familiar feeling of your period starting. "Fuck," you hissed out.

"What?" Harry questioned quickly from his position as the big spoon behind you.

Going to stand up, you replied, "Um, think I started my period." At this point you knew there wasn't any way to hide the fact your period just started because you were staying the night at his house for fucks sake.

Harry had a frown on his face and goes to let you know, "Oh, well that's alright. I have some pad and tampons under my bathroom sink. Keep'um there for things like this." God, you're about ready to marry this man on the spot. His thoughtfulness is killing you.

You nodded your head and said shyly, "Okay, thank you. I'll be right back." You rushed off to the bathroom before you leaked too much in your panties and finally made it in time to collect the products you needed. Harry even bought the good brands too. Bless his heart.

After inserting a tampon and using a pad for extra protection, you were good to go. Except you realized just how tired you were now. It was nearly eleven at night anyways. So when you made it back down the stairs to Harry's living room where he had paused the movie to wait on you, you asked nervously, "Can, um, we just go to bed? I'm kinda tired now."

Without any thought, Harry stood up from the sofa and said, "Yeah, of course. Is everythin' alright with your period though. Need anythin' else?" If he doesn't stop being so nice you will be getting married tomorrow.

You shook your head, "No, I mean, yes I'm okay. Caught it right in time so I didn't leak through my clothes, thankfully. And my cramps usually start a few hours after I start. So I'm not in any pain right now. Just sleepy."

Harry turned the tv off and grabbed your hand to hold while walking up the stairs with you. "Good, but let me know if that changes. Don't be afraid to wake me up, okay. I won't mind." he commented.

A few moments later you were cuddled up in bed and ready to sleep. Your periods always made you extremely tired. Physically and mentally. Then not even five minutes into your cozy cuddles, you were asleep.

----------------------------

As your eyes glance over at Harry's alarm clock you can see the time now is four am. You were sleeping peacefully until you started getting your first wave of period cramps. To hopefully will them away, you take some deep breaths and lay in a fetal position to try and fall back asleep. But you quickly realize that's not going to happen.

Now if you were at your house, you'd go take some medicine to help with your period cramps but beings that you're at your boyfriend's house, you didn't want to risk waking him up. Though he told you he wanted you to wake him if you needed anything, you just couldn't find it in you to do that.

I mean you're not necessarily embarrassed you got your period at Harry's house because he is a grown, mature man that knows women get periods. But it's more so about you being in such a vulnerable position in front of him for the first time. To your luck though, the period and the cramps were not even the worst of your worries right now. It's the creeping nausea that's blooming in your stomach.

You don't always get sick on your periods but you do more often than most you'd say. Like every three period cycles. And it's mostly from the cramps getting so bad that they make you feel and get sick. Oh how you wish on anything that this months period wouldn't be one of the months you get sick on your period. Especially not on a night you're staying at Harry's house.

As you continue to lay in bed beside a sleeping Harry, your cramps get worse and your nausea also gets worse. To the point you know you must get out of bed if you don't want to be sick all over his bed and floor. So you scramble to remove yourself from Harry's duvet and scurry over to his bathroom that's to the right of his room. But due to the room being pitch black, you accidently knock something off the night stand on your side of the bed which in turn wakes Harry up.

At this point you don't care that you've knocked something over nor do you care if it woke Harry up. All that you care about is not being sick on the floor. When you make it inside the bathroom, you flip the light switch on and run over to the toilet. Luckily you have a moment to prepare yourself for what's to come so you reach back to collect your messy hair out of your face and kneel down on the cold, hard floor.

Back in the bedroom, Harry is sat up very confused as to what's going on. The only thing he can assume is that you felt yourself starting to leak and ran to go change your products out. But when he hears your first dry heave, he knows that's not the case. He jumps out of bed and rushes to the bathroom so he can help you in any way he can.

"Hey, hey," Harry coos while finally reaching your kneeled body, "shhh, it's alright. Let it out, y/n. Your tummy will feel so much better." And just like that, after multiple harsh dry heaves, you begin to actually throw up. Which isn't pleasant and especially not pleasant when you ate chinese food for dinner.

Harry replaces your hand with his so he's now the one holding your hair back. You're in so much pain that you barely register he's in the bathroom with you. All you know is that your uterus feels like it's being kicked and punched repeatedly and you're so nauseous because of that.

You throw up for what feels like minutes until you finally catch a break. With his free hand, Harry collects some toilet paper and dabs it around your mouth and nose. Then he tosses it in the toilet and reaches up to flush the nasty contents. You whisper out an embarrassed, "Thank you."

"No need to thank me, love. Hate seein' you like this. Is it your period that's making you sick? Or the chinese? Because if it's the chinese food then I should be a little worried since we ate the same thing." Harry replies.

"No um, forgot to mention but um, sometimes on my periods my cramps get so bad that it makes me get sick. Sorry you're having to see me like this. I know I probably look and smell gross. You can go back to bed if you want."

Biting back, Harry responds, "Hey, y/n, it's totally fine. I understand periods are painful for women. And if it makes you sick then that's alright. But I will do everythin' in my power to help you not feel sick anymore. And I am not leavin' you in here by yourself. I don't care that you're sick in front of me. We are in a relationship so it was gonna happen eventually anyways, right? Now do you still feel like you're going to throw up?"

You answer hoarsely, "Kinda, but if i had some medicine I think that would stop it. It's just my cramps hurt so bad I can barely move."

"Alright," Harry softly speaks, "stay here and let me get you some medicine." He stands up on cracking knees and searches through his medicine cabinet a few feet away. "Okay, here is some zofran for your nausea and here is some pain pills for your period cramps. Let me grab you a cup of water."

After filling a paper cup full of water and collecting the medicine, Harry comes back over to you and kneels down on the hard bathroom floor beside your body. He hands them to you and with shaky hands you take the cup of water and swallow down the pills. Then he grabs the now empty cup back from you and tosses it into the trash can beside the toilet.

Being patient with you, Harry doesn't suggest going back to bed until you feel ready enough to do so. He just sits beside you and gently grazes his fingers up and down your back. Once the zofran has kicked in, you don't feel sick anymore. You just feel achy and slightly gross.

Breaking the silence, you ask, "Can I take a shower and then go back to sleep? I feel all gross but also so tired again."

"Of course you can, baby. Let me get you a towel and an extra pair of clothes from your bag, okay." Harry gets up to do just that and you stand up realizing you need to use the toilet as well. But you'll wait until he returns with your stuff.

When Harry does return with your stuff, he gives your forehead a kiss and says, "Take your time, y/n. I'll be in bed waiting on you. Call for me if you need anythin''." And with that, he leaves and you're finally left alone to use the bathroom and shower.

----------------------------

When you re-enter Harry's bedroom after your shower, you expect to see him fast asleep again. But no, he's propped up in bed watching Friends on the television that hangs on the wall in front of his bed. He turns his head towards you with a sleepy smile on his face. "How was your shower? All good?"

You nod and answer while climbing back into bed beside him. "Mhm, it was good. And um, thank you for taking care of me tonight. Really appreciate it."

"Awe, baby," Harry coos, turning the tv off and helping you move closer to him, "no need to thank me. It kills me to know you sometimes have to deal with your periods side effects alone. I love taking care of you." With your head now on his chest, he tilts his head down to peck your forehead with a kiss and questions, "Is your tummy feelin' better now? Not nauseous anymore?"

Tiredly, you shake your head no against his chest and whisper, "Just slight cramping but nothing like it was before. The medicine is working. Love you."

Knowing you're not in excruciating pain anymore, sleep starts to take over Harry's body too again. But not before he can mutter out an, "I love you, too."

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

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