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#like i’m fine seeing them it’s just the idea of them actually going in me…
valeskafics · 24 hours
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"Masks We Wear" - Ghostface!Coriolanus Snow x Reader
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a/n: an anon was super sweet about my ghostface au's and requested one for coryo - hope you enjoy this, nonnie! 🩷
Summary: Coryo finally drops the mask he wears around you and shows you what he really is.
Word Count: 3,020
Rating: 18+, MDNI
TW: DUBCON, murder, stalking, kidnapping, afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, knife kink, blood kink, bondage, pain play, overstim, oral f receiving, tiddy succin, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hunger Games/Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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The saying goes that behind every man there is a strong woman. Coriolanus Snow knows exactly who that woman is meant to be for him. He once thought that it was going to be Lucy Gray, the sweet little ingénue from District 12 who nearly broke his heart, who nearly destroyed him. But no. Coryo realizes now that she was a placeholder for someone far, far more important: you, his childhood best friend. While the other students at the Academy often mocked him for his family’s fall from grace, you never once did. You were the sweetest little thing, always offering some of your lunch to him because “the cook made too much” or you “weren’t that hungry”. He knew what you were doing. He always knew. But, he knew you were doing it for his benefit, and so he accepted your kindness.
Coryo always thought you were too pure to be tainted by his darkness. That he ought to stay away from you for your own good. That the thoughts that infested his mind about all the things he wanted to do to you needed to remain a fantasy and nothing more. He thought he could enact those with Lucy Gray. That he could close his eyes and imagine it was you lying beneath him. He learned his lesson. There’s only one you. And you’re the one he needs by his side, supporting him as he works his way to the top of the food chain.
You’re the first person he sees after returning from 12. He comes to your home, at nearly three in the morning. You answer the door with a knife in your hand, poking your head out nervously. The knife gives him ideas he’s not sure your sweet, innocent mind would be able to comprehend. You let it clatter to the floor, throwing your arms around him and pulling him into your embrace.
“Oh, Coryo… I thought…”
He moves closer to you, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, his voice a low rumble in his chest, “What did you think?”
“Nevermind,” you shake your head, “I’m just so glad you’re back. I’m so glad.”
Coryo smiles against your neck, a darkness behind his gaze, a possessiveness that you don’t quite pick up on. And you’re the same as you ever were. Blindly trusting him, his fingers running through your hair, his other hand resting on your lower back.
“Did you miss me?”
“Of course I did,” you beam up at him, “You’re my best friend in the whole world, Coryo. I even tried getting a train to 12, but they detained me!”
His expression grows stern, though there’s a teasing edge to his voice as he reprimands you, “Why would you ever think that’s a good idea, sweetheart? Traveling across districts to see me? You know how dangerous it is out there?”
“I would’ve been fine,” you protest, waving off his concern.
“You wouldn’t have,” Coryo says firmly, moving to cup your face in his hands, “I don’t want you doing anything like that again, alright? You could’ve gotten into real danger. And I wouldn’t have been able to protect you. You understand?”
“Yes, Coryo,” you pause before speaking softly, a sympathetic tone to your voice which he finds ironic in light of your words, “I’m so sorry about Sej. I know you two were like brothers.”
He can’t believe you actually think he cared about Sejanus. Truth be told, he doesn’t care about anyone except himself, you, and maybe his grandmam. He feigns a wistful smile, nodding, allowing you to embrace and comfort him, the feel of your warm, soft body against his enough to make him carry on the charade a bit longer as you promise that you’re here for him, that you’re never going to betray him or leave him. That’s when he notices it, his blood running cold at the sight of it.
The engagement ring on your ring finger.
Coryo pulls away from you, reeling at the realization.
“Coryo? What is it? Are you alright?”
He’s quiet for a long moment, not knowing what to say, his jealousy and anger nearly consuming him. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. How can you be engaged? This is going to ruin everything. All his plans could go up in smoke.
“Who are you engaged to?” His voice is as cold as his gaze when he asks you.
“Oh… Festus,” you tell him, a glumness to your voice that makes him feel somewhat appeased, “It’s an arranged thing. You know how marriages in our families are.”
It takes every ounce of self restraint he has to refrain from ripping that goddamn ring off your pretty little finger as he moves closer to you, “Arranged, huh?”
You nod, “Yeah. After Felix died then you and Sej were sent to 12… My parents got anxious to match me off.”
Coryo inhales sharply. Festus fucking Creed. He never thought he could hate someone more than he hated Billy Taupe, but here he is, his blood boiling at the mere thought of Festus’s fucking hands touching you.
“And you just went with it?”
“I wasn’t really given a choice, Coryo.”
“Do you love him?”
“No,” you shake your head vehemently, “I mean, hopefully I can one day. Grow to love him, I mean. It would be nice to not be in an unhappy marriage, you know?”
Coryo remains quiet, his hands gripping your kitchen counter so tight his knuckles go white. Before you can say another word, he’s storming out of your door, ignoring your confusion as he slams it shut behind him.
He walks the cold, empty streets of the Capitol, only one thought on his mind. How to make you his. How to get rid of the obstacles that stand in the way of him having you. As he gets closer and closer to his family’s old home, he passes by the store where Tigris so often bought items for her designs. There, in the window, is a mask, made of what he assumes to be rubber, with black eyes, a black nose, and a black mouth in a grimace. A twisted smile spreads across his own face as he enters the store.
Oh yes, this disguise will do quite nicely for the task at hand.
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It doesn’t take much to memorize your schedule. After all, you’re so predictable. You leave to go to your University classes and you go straight back to your penthouse like the good girl you are. Sometimes, you stop by your parents’ mansion and have tea with them, sometimes you’ll go shopping with Livia. But for the most part? It’s the same basic schedule.
The worst days are the ones where you go with Festus to plan things for the wedding. Your discomfort is obvious whenever Festus leans in to kiss your cheek, wraps his arm around your waist. Coryo is doing you a favor by going through with this plan. It’s so obvious you don’t care about Festus the way you care about him. That Festus could never make you happy the way he could.
He makes his presence known to you after you go for your first dress fitting. A bouquet of white roses left at your front door, stained with blood, and an accompanying note saying how beautiful you look in white. Coryo watches with amusement as you panic and grab your videophone and call him. He ducks into the hallway and answers, feigning concern for you and offering to come right over, holding you in his arms as you cry against his chest, saying how scared you were, how grateful you are that he’s back. How Festus would’ve just made fun of you for being so terrified. And Coryo runs his fingers through your hair, shushing you, assuring you everything will be alright.
The next time, he pushes things even further. He leaves a letter, detailing all the vile things he wants to do to you, how he plans to get rid of Festus and then defile your pretty little body. Coryo is pretty sure he can hear the faintest hint of breathlessness in your voice. You like it. You like what he wrote. You liked him describing how he’s going to make you cry tears of pleasure, screaming his name as he fucks you, as he claims what belongs to him. God, you’re so fucking afraid. He loves it. And the ironic part? You keep running into his arms for comfort. It’s all going according to plan.
Coryo decides that it’s time for you and your secret admirer to meet face to face a few weeks before the wedding. You take a shortcut home on your way from the wedding planner’s office, into an alley that on any other occasion would be safe. But not today. He’s been following you from a distance, making you feel ill at ease. Why is there a man in a mask walking around in broad daylight? But, you chalk it up to the people of the Capitol having odd habits and try to ignore the way it feels like the masked man’s eyes are burning into your body.
When you turn into the alley, he makes his move, grabbing you by the arm and pinning you against the wall. You struggle against him, squirming frantically as you cry out, wanting to know who he is, begging him to let you go. And it excites him. Something about seeing you so vulnerable, tears threatening to spill from those pretty eyes? It’s intoxicating. It’s almost like he gets high off of your fear. He keeps the mask on, keeps his gaze on you. He pulls a knife from his pocket, holding it to your cheek, tracing the contours of your face. Your lower lip wobbles slightly as he runs the tip of the blade along it, smirking beneath his mask.
“Are you scared, sweetheart?”
You can’t quite place it, but that voice, no matter how much the speaker tries to disguise it, is familiar. You know this man. You look up at him, letting out a gasp as he drags the knife along your throat.
“Yes, I’m terrified. Please let me go…”
He shakes his head, a low, menacing chuckle falling from his lips as he leans in closer, grabbing your face with a leather gloved hand, “I think I should keep you here with me. After all, I don’t want you running back to that pathetic little fiance of yours.”
You let out a choked gasp as his hand moves down toward your chest, squeezing your breasts over the fabric of your dress, “I promise, my family has money, I don’t have anything in my purse-”
Coryo lets out another dark laugh, grabbing you by the hair, pulling harshly to make you lean your face up to look at him, to look at his mask, “I’m not here for money, sweetheart. I’m here for you.”
He brings a cloth to your mouth and before you know it?
Your vision goes black.
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You wake up in an unfamiliar room, white rose petals scattered on the bed and floor around you. When you try to move, you realize your hands are tied to the bedpost, making you panic and tug at it, the headboard knocking against the wall. This seems to alert your captor to you now being awake. He walks in, that same mask on his face, giving you an appreciative onceover. You glance down and see that he’s dressed you in the skimpiest black lingerie you’ve seen in your entire life, complete with a pair of fishnet stockings. You glower at your captor from your spot on the bed as he comes to stand at the foot of it.
“Good, you’re awake.”
“You’re not going to get away with this!” You say indignantly, still tugging at the rope binding you to the bed, “My family, my fiance-”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that last part anymore. He’s been dealt with.”
Your blood runs cold at his words. You watch with horror as he opens the closet door and Festus’s body comes tumbling forward, his throat slit, his face twisted in an expression of pure terror. You scramble backward against the bed.
“Please…”
“Please?” He mocks, pulling his knife from his pocket, tracing your cleavage, down to your stomach, pressing down just hard enough to allow a trickle of blood to spill from your skin, “You still have no idea, do you? This mask… I guess I’ve worn a mask around you my whole life, truth be told. You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you. For how long.”
Your jaw drops as he removes the mask, revealing his identity.
“Coryo?”
He smirks, nodding, tossing the mask aside and crawling over you, holding the knife to your neck, “I’ve hid it for so long. How much I’ve wanted you. They say we become the masks we wear, but I never did. I bided my time. And even though I tried to spare you, to take Lucy Gray instead of you, it was always meant to be you.”
“Coryo,” you whimper as he grabs your legs, bringing your ankles to rest against his shoulders, tracing the hilt of his knife against your cunt, smirking at the way you shiver, “This isn’t you…”
“Oh, sweetheart, it very much so is me,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your ankle, staring down at you, “And you’ll learn to love this side of me too.”
You’re helpless to do anything but watch as he kisses along your calf, your thigh, before mouthing at your pussy over the flimsy panties he’s put you in. You clench your fists, gritting your teeth, doing your best not to let any noises escape your lips. And so Coryo? He smirks up at you and renews his efforts, his blade set aside for the moment as he pushes your panties aside and spreads you open, his tongue delving deep inside you. Your head falls back against your pillow, an involuntary moan falling from your lips as he laps at your pussy eagerly, moaning against you, his hips rutting against the mattress. Fuck, he thinks he could cum just from your taste alone as he nuzzles his nose against your clit, inhaling your scent, savoring your taste. He fucks you with his tongue over and over and over, letting out the most obscene slurping and sucking noises. And when you spill yourself on his tongue with a cry of his name, he just fucking continues. Your hips squirm away, seeking some reprieve from the onslaught of pleasure, but he chases you with his mouth moving his face from side to side, alternating between broad strokes against your cunt with his tongue and suckling at your swollen clit.
“Coryo…” You gasp as he wrenches another orgasm from you, making no movement to stop, your fishnet clad thighs shaking, ankles dangling over his shoulders as he continues, “Oh God…”
You wish you could grasp at the sheets for some form of purchase, but all you can do is writhe against him, even more violently when he uses the hilt of his knife to fuck you.
“Got to get you ready for my cock, sweetheart,” he coos, his tone equal parts affectionate and mocking, “Such a tight little pussy. I might just tear you apart.”
And you hate that you enjoy it. You hate that every time that blade brushes against your thigh, you grow wetter. That every time Coryo stares at you with those icy blue eyes, nearly blown black with lust, your stomach clenches. You’ve wanted him just as long as he’s wanted you, truth be told. So why not allow yourself to enjoy this?
He undoes his pants, his long, pale, veiny cock dripping pre cum from the tip as he slaps it against your clit repeatedly. You let out a whine of his name as he buries himself inside you. And he’s right. It does almost feel like he’s tearing you apart. Coryo smirks at the outline of his bulge against your stomach, his tongue tracing the cuts he left along your chest as he holds the blade to your throat and begins rutting against you. He tugs harshly at the bra, tossing it across the room, dragging his tongue along one of your nipples, his free hand pressing down on the bulge in your stomach, making you squeal and squirm against him. You’re so helpless and docile in his grasp, like a little kitten. And he can see it in your eyes as you gaze up at him. You want this as badly as he does. He drags the tip of his tongue along your pert nub before mouthing at the other, and finally?
Coryo presses his lips to yours in a ferocious, hungry kiss. One that you reciprocate as best as you are able to with your hands tied. Every thrust of his hips, every movement of his lips, his tongue massaging yours, his hand on your stomach, his knife at your neck. Every sensation is so mind-numbingly perfect that you practically leave your body when you reach your peak, Coryo fucking you through it. He’s determined to get one more out of you, moving his hand that rests on your stomach to pinch and slap at your pearl, his thrusts stuttering as he gets closer and closer.
“Going to fill you up with my cum, sweetheart,” he rasps against your ear, “Going to marry you. Not Festus. Me. Going to see you all pretty and round, carrying my baby. Fuck, you’re so tight, sweetheart, gonna make me cum, aren’t you?”
You nod wordlessly, lips parted as he spills himself into you, your own peak washing over you soon after. Coryo collapses against you, untying your hands and smirking as you cuddle up against him, his cum still dripping from between your thighs.
“I love you,” Coryo whispers, one of his hands cupping your breast, the other resting against your cheek, “I’m never letting you go.”
“I don’t want you to.”
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infiniteeight8 · 18 hours
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More soul stone and Tony? :)
I am making up a lot of magic shit here. If any of it is inconsistent with canon (comics or MCU), just consider this an AU. If it’s inconsistent with previous installments of Tony & Soul, please let me know. (I did check, but that’s not foolproof.)
Content warning for past death of a teenager (no details) and discussion of corpses (mild) and ghosts (more extensive).
*
“When you said we were going on a field trip,” Tony said, looking around the morgue, “I thought we’d be, I don’t know, learning how cheese is made. Or going to the aquarium.”
“Because those are terribly relevant to soul magic,” Stephen said dryly. He murmured a quiet thanks to the morgue attendant and then they were alone. Turning to the storage drawers, Stephen found the correct one and opened it, pulling the corpse out into view. It was a boy. He couldn’t be more than fifteen.
Tony crossed his arms and focused on Stephen. “Soul was pretty clear that I couldn’t resurrect people.”
Stephen cast him a surprised look. “That’s not what we’re here for,” he said. “Given what you now know about the Mystic Arts and souls, haven’t you wondered why a city the size of New York isn’t full of ghosts?”
“Actually, no,” Tony admitted. He kept his eyes on Stephen. “I hadn’t really thought about it.” Which seemed foolish now, being the bearer of the Soul stone. Damn it. 
Stephen frowned. “My apologies. I really should have given you a more thorough introduction to related magic. It’s not likely to be exactly the same, but at least you’d have context.”
Tony waved off the apology. “It’s fine. Ghosts?”
“Right. Given that roughly 200 people die every day in New York City,” Stephen continued, “we see several new ghosts every week. They don’t accumulate because helping them to move on is one of the duties of the Masters of the Mystic Arts. With Soul’s help, you should be able to do the same.”
Tony took a long look at the boy on the extended slab. “I know I said I was up for something more hands on,” he said, “but this is… He’s just a kid, Stephen.”
Stephen stepped up beside him and laid a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades. The touch was warm in the cool morgue air. “I’m sorry,” Stephen said quietly. His regret was cool, almost soothing in a strange way, like a cold compress. “I didn’t think… Between med school and the Mystic Arts, perhaps I’ve grown a bit too comfortable with death. I should have warned you, let you adjust to the idea.”
Tony rubbed at his goatee, eyes still on the boy. “He left a ghost?” Tony could see Strange nod out of the corner of his eye. “Is he… angry?”
“No.” Stephen’s thumb moved, rubbing tiny circles into Tony’s back. “He’s confused. He wasn’t trying to linger, he just missed his chance, so he’s not really connected to the living world, either. He’s not even aware that we’re here. All he needs is for the way to be opened again. He needs our help, Tony. I know it’s not the same as helping the living, but it’s just as important.” When Tony turned to look, Stephen’s gaze was fixed on a point next to the body, but up a little. That had to be where the ghost was, though Tony couldn’t see it. After a moment Stephen turned and met Tony’s gaze. “I can make a portal for you if this is too soon.”
A portal for Tony, but not for Stephen, because he’d be staying to help this kid get to the afterlife. Because someone needed to. Tony set his jaw. “No. I’ll help. Show me how?”
“Ghosts occupy a plane of existence very close to our own, between our reality and the astral plane,” Stephen explained. “I’m not sure about the other planes, but you should be able to see this one via Soul. This of it as…” Stephen cast about for a metaphor for a moment. “You know those prints that appear three dimensional if you refocus your eyes correctly? It’s a little like that, at least for me.”
Tony squints at the spot Stephen had been looking at earlier, but nothing seems different. Help me out here? he asks Soul.
The stone is, but suddenly there’s someone there. Tony was expecting him to be washed out, translucent, but he’s not. He looks exactly like a living person, except that he’s haloed in an orange glow. Tony swallows hard. “I see him.” He’s abruptly grateful for the continuing presence of Stephen’s hand on his back, a warm anchor to reality.
“Good,” Stephen murmurs. “He’s trying to reach for something; can you see it? Or feel it.”
Tony starts to say no, but Soul interrupts: Not with his hands. With his soul.
After a moment, Tony sees it. The orange glow is trailing off in one direction, extending away from the boy. “I see it.”
“You want to give that reaching element more energy,” Stephen says. “Not much; you’re drawing from your own reserves. He only needs enough to feel where he’s meant to go.”
Tony can’t quite make it happen just by focusing. In the end, he raises a hand and points one finger, and a thread of orange spools out of it and towards the boy. Soul cuts the thread before it makes contact. You’re not trying to make a connection, it explains. Just to donate a little energy.
The thread disappears into the boy’s orange aura. For a moment, Tony thinks it didn’t work, but then the boy looks up from his body and turns in the direction that the orange trail is pointing. He takes a hesitant step, then another. On the third, he vanished, blinking out as if he was never there at all. Tony lets out a breath.
“Well done,” Stephen says. With a final press of his hand, he steps away from Tony and carefully slides the drawer closed, sealing the boy’s body away again.
“I was kind of expecting a white light,” Tony admits.
Stephen smiles, just a little. “So did I, the first time. But in reality, we’d have to get a lot closer to death to see any representation of the other side, and the Masters still aren’t sure if the images we see when we make that approach are cultural, physiological, or definitive.”
Tony snorts. “Even the Mystics don’t know everything, huh?”
“Not even close.” Stephen casts a portal for them and together they step into the Sanctum.
Tony waits until the chill of the morgue has entirely dissipated and Stephen is pouring tea for them before voicing the thought that’s on his mind. “Soul warned me not to make a connection when I gave the boy some extra oomph.”
Stephen turns an interested look on Tony. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Tony says. “Which begs the question: what could I do with a connection?”
Stephen sets the teapot down with an uneven clink. “I don’t know.”
Tony blows out a breath. “Yeah. Me neither.”
Soul’s silence is less than comforting.
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zappedbyzabka · 2 months
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Robby loves Johnny (and I don’t believe he wants him dead or anything, though he definitely has understandable resentment) and I think Johnny would die for him in an instant. If the next season doesn’t show this more and give Robby some peace, then the writers are dead to me because they really only have this season now. Also, show his feelings about Shannon’s actions too (making him listen to her have sex, bringing creepy men around, letting him starve, etc) rather than just being like “She had free rehab so its cool!”
(I’m not open to argue about this, so genuinely please don’t get mad at my feelings <3.)
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ectoplasmer · 10 months
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actually no I think it’d be really funny if my hs s/i and my ygo s/i switched places
#nervous high energy vs nervous low energy#furthermore#external awkwardness vs internal awkwardness#if we’re talking like. actually switching them and not just having a personality swap#i don’t think having a 16-year-old technical god stuck on a blimp with eight other 16-year-olds is a good idea lol#i mean. not too much different from the meteorite >_>#she would probably only know bare basics about this series because of memes and/or whatever dave references#creates plants to attempt to ‘shield’ people from attacks during duels out of habit. oops#everyone being injured by shadow games has a reliable (?) doctor (??) at least!!#watch as she becomes even more visibly a mess when they don’t immediately get back up though#i don’t. even wanna think about her interactions with yb or ym AGSJDHDJ#gets approached and just makes a series of incomprehensible nerve wracked noises. she’s fine. ignore the randomly sprouting flowers#ghostie would be the only mortal human on the meteor and. tbh. that worries me#LIKE i’m sure dave and rose would have at least some sort of idea on how they both got swapped#so they’d probably help and protect her if need be#sure the trolls are also mostly mortal but they’re aliens and have higher tolerance#lol just. gets carried around when they need to fly somewhere afshdg#going into the dream bubbles and having a moment where she has to just sit and watch all the other dead players#like oh. she isn’t the only one who can see them now. hm#dave would probably ask her to explain how to play duel monsters and she would try to be all humble about it but#secretly she’s happy she actually gets a chance to win now >:3#her and rose are busy discussing lovecraft u_u#i want to talk about my hs s/i sooo bad but i don’t know how to without explaining all of homestuck lol#delete later#s/i: ghostie#s/i: AG
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southislandwren · 2 years
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He grills you about your religion for 40 minutes straight, a week after meeting you, and now he thinks you’re 1) actually a full-believing Jesuit 2) indoctrinated into being asexual 3) want to hear his shitty and passive aggressive takes on religion
#this is about my boss’s husband btw and he did actually argue with me about being asexual#because he thinks the jesuits poisoned my mind and now I’m damaged beyond repair#he just sent me some article about the jesuits and it’s like. I only told you I was Jesuit because I thought you were some conservative#I’m only on the edge of being Jesuit because I need an idea of heaven so I can see my dog again & I was raised a Jesuit#1. my asexuality actually isn’t up for debate and the only way I would ever have sex is to fuck your mom or your wife you piece of shit#2. it doesn’t matter why I consider myself religious you don’t get to be snarky about my reasoning#3. I am going to fucking snap on you at some point if you don’t reign in the sass buddy.#diary post#bro he brought up my sexuality at fucking farmers market. with other people around#I don’t care about discussing it when it’s you and me and your drunk wife. but in market?? where people can hear??#oh and I’m the vent for my boss AND my aunts husband complaints#which is fine I don’t mind being a good listener. my problem is that I can’t insert myself into their issues!!#it’s not my place to say ‘maybe if you physically attacked your husband he wouldn’t be such a dick.’ or ‘have you tried gaslighting him?’#ugh I just really hate that guy. I can be civil and polite but eventually I’ll snap#okay deep breaths. I will probably be okay#the kids got back today from the weekend and I spent maybe 4 hours with them and I’m already wiped out :(#goodnight. cheesemaking tomorrow but the boss pushed us back an hour so we can sleep in
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exopelagic · 3 days
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i will not panic abt my exams
#it will be fine actually#I’m stressed bc they’re in. a month now like a month from today and I’ll be done#but that just means I have a whole month to be making notes I can do a lot in a month#I’m going home on Friday which is stressing me out but it’s just one week I’ll go Friday and leave Saturday/Sunday#and if I can do a handful of lectures while I’m at home that’ll be a useful step no matter what#i can probably focus on like molecular ones which are easier to structure bc I just need to pull out the mechanisms#tomorrow I just gotta read up on two topics really and then I can write the dumb mock exam which I won’t be able to do at home bc its 4 hour#I hate that we have to do that especially bc it’s got shit evil questions but whatever#and I can’t feel bad abt being slow to get back into this bc im an animal with a body and it takes a while to get back into Anything#and I’m worried abt the exam yes bc of how it went last year when I was unprepared but 1) I won’t be THAT degree of unprepared this year#2) it is unlikely that i get as insanely unlucky as I did last year#fucking hell I just. don’t think I’m made for this kinda system I can’t make myself work in it#every single term of my degree so far I’ve been fighting to keep up with everything and had no time to properly prepare for the exams#and then scraped it by working off a baseline level of being good at putting ideas together quickly and strategically working last minute#on whatever will give me the best shot at getting what I need but that’s not possible in these two exams bc I have over 100 lectures to know#I can’t do 100 lectures in a month. it’s just not possible but what I can probably do is summarise some important bits for like half of them#I think I’m bad at the whole sustained effort on a big task over a long period of time#bc this is so huge that there’s no way for me to see progress or move on to anything new bc it’s just. a stack of 100 lectures to deal with#I HOPE I’m better at dealing with project next year bc i think it’ll be more task based#and like I can watch the lectures the first time round bc there’s a set thing to do and an end point#I have genuinely no idea how to approach this in a way that will be useful achievable AND get enough done within the time I have#anyway I can’t stress abt it now bc I have to go to the shop and then home to cook. so#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA#luke.txt
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westernsunshine · 2 months
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So the doctor’s appointment… went. I don’t know if I’d say it went well, but it certainly went
#i have been prescribed ssris and beta blockers for my anxiety#funnily enough i mostly went in there to talk about how bad my pms is and see if they can put me back on microgynon yet (surely my blood#pressure is down after 4 months on a low salt diet & two months of jogging and pilates)#but she asked why i haven’t been in for a pap smear yet and i was like ‘chief can i be honest with you? the very idea makes me want to throw#up so i ordered a self administered one from a private clinic at great cost to myself’#she was like ‘fine send us the results when you get them. can you tell me about this anxiety though?’#so i proceed to bawl my eyes out obviously#i didn’t understand much of the resulting conversation but basically i think i have been prescribed setraline and something#and she thinks i should take an otc sleeping pill (i told her about how sometimes i lie in bed for hours and hours unable to sleep#but then when i do sleep i sleep for like 10-11 hours and we were both like ‘that seems weird’)#i’m gonna be completely honest; i’ve never had good luck with otc sleeping pills. i don’t like how they make me feel hungover in the morning#and the herbal ones just do sweet fuck all. i’ve actually taken them during the day before to calm my nerves bc that’s the most they do#my kingdom for a weed gummy. anyway#i don’t want to go to counselling because talking about this stuff and crying in front of people makes me miserable but i don’t think i have#a choice. so. fuck me i guess#i have no idea when my prescription will even be available at the small town pharmacy i go to. maybe never#it took them like a solid week to get my eczema cream in. i was like ‘hello??????’#but. i made the first step to getting help and i forced myself to go in there physically and ask for help even though i have been wanting to#cancel the appointment ever since i made the appointment. and now that i’ve done it i have set in motion a chain of events#that will hopefully culminate in me being a less useless person. which would be nice#personal
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kingkonoha · 5 months
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“You Want to Adopt Me?”
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♡ — SUMMARY: You & GOJO decide to adopt Yuji & Megumi.
♡ — A/N: This is a continuation of my dad!gojo au, but reading the other parts isn’t necessary.
♡ — WC: 2k
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Four hours had passed since the glorious moment in which Yuji discovered that his beloved teacher had a wife and daughter.
And, after having dinner with all of you that evening, he never wanted to leave.
Walking home that night — all alone, with no family around who would care whether or not he was safe — was one of the most difficult things he had to do. It made curse fighting seem like child’s play.
It was so utterly painful; he fought to hold back a tear as he walked down the sidewalk, staring at his shoes, which he could only see thanks to the dim streetlights.
Truth be told, he hated himself for getting so emotional over this.
Most, if not all of his friends were just as lonely as he was. Most of them didn’t sit at a dinner table and gobble down a nice warm meal with a loving family.
Most of them didn’t have a mother to hug them, or a father to cheer them up. And, if their parents were still around, they were probably distant and unloving.
Even so, it didn’t change the fact that having a family was, perhaps, the one thing Yuji truly wanted.
He just wanted to be loved.
The ache in his heart was so incredibly strong. The pain shot throughout his chest, through his veins, and down to his fingertips.
“Why am I so emotional? I can’t cry over this,” Yuji thought. “This isn’t something worth crying over.”
An unwavering lump in his throat formed from his attempts at holding back a cry.
That was when his footsteps came to a halt.
What was the point in rushing back to his lonely, isolating room at the school?
No one was waiting for him. He could go anywhere he wanted, and no one would truly miss him.
People would look for him, but mainly because of their obligation as sorcerers to track down Sukuna’s vessel. Nothing more.
Some people would actually prefer it if Yuji did disappear. And a few people were honest enough to tell him that to his face.
As he stood there, in the dark, alone on the sidewalk on such a cold night, he couldn’t help but wonder if his friends would secretly be happy if he did somehow vanish into thin air.
Maybe loneliness was destined for him. Maybe everyone would feel safer if he didn’t return to the school. Maybe-
“Hey, Yuji!”
Gojo’s voice startled the young boy, who instantly turned around to see his teacher approaching him, his hands in his pockets. “You didn’t make it too far — good.”
“Is everything okay?” Yuji asked.
Gojo could hear the sadness in his voice, but he decided not to comment on it. After all, he knew exactly why his student was upset. He didn’t have to be a genius to figure it out.
“Yeah, listen,” Gojo paused, “it’s pretty cold and dark out here. Why don’t you come back to my house and stay the night? We can both head back to the school in the morning.”
For a moment, Yuji felt a spark of happiness, but that spark quickly fizzled out.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Yuji frowned. “I’m a vessel. I’m dangerous. Having me sleep in the same house as your wife and kid would be-”
“Would be fine,” Gojo interrupted. “Nothing bad is going to happen, Yuji. Me and Y/N both know that you’re a vessel, and we want you to come anyway.”
Yuji didn’t respond. Nor did he move an inch. Gojo spoke once again.
“She wants to make you pancakes in the morning,” he said in a tempting tone. “Homemade too. The kind that has the crispy edges, but are very soft and fluffy at the same time? We have syrup and butter — orange juice as well. Or do you prefer apple juice? We have both, either way. Not to mention, the bed in our guest bedroom is bigger and way more comfortable than the one at the school-“
“Okay!” Yuji suddenly smiled happily, and it was a real, genuine grin.
He quickly rushed past Gojo, making his way back to your warm, cozy home eagerly.
Seven months later, Yuji visited your home as often as he could. Sometimes, Megumi would tag along with him, as the dark-haired boy secretly craved a connection with a loving family too, even if he’d never admit it.
On this particular day, Megumi was lying on the couch, covered in blankets as he watched a movie about two princesses going on some sort of adventure.
Megumi was injured during his last mission, and thanks to the chilly weather, he was also catching a bit of a cold as well. You insisted upon taking care of him, but your daughter insisted that making him watch Barbie movies all afternoon would make him feel better.
As the two of them watched the movie together, you were in the kitchen, standing over your wooden cutting board as you chopped up carrots, onions, and celery.
Yuji hovered over the sink, washing the dishes.
“I want you to have some soup as well, Yuji. You could catch a cold any day now.”
“Yes ma’am,” Yuji said, scrubbing a plate as he smiled softly. “I really appreciate it.”
Suddenly, the front door opened, and Gojo walked in, shouting casually, “I’m home, everyone!”
Quick, soft footsteps could be heard pattering against the floor as your daughter ran up to Gojo, holding her arms out.
“Daddy! You’re home!” She giggled as he lifted her.
“I’ve missed my little muffin so much,” tickling her, he said, “did you have a good day? I think my little girl has grown a couple of inches since I last saw her this morning! Did she grow? Hm?”
The sound of your daughter’s laughter made Gojo smile brightly.
As he held her, he walked into the living room and ruffled Megumi’s hair.
“Cut it out,” the teenager frowned.
“Good to see you too,” Gojo paused, pressing the back of his hand against Megumi’s forehead. “You’ve cooled down a little since this morning, that’s good. I’ll give you some more medicine later on, okay?”
“Okay,” Megumi mumbled.
Gojo slowly put his daughter down. “I’m gonna go say hi to Mom, okay? Keep an eye on Megumi for me.”
“Okay!” Your daughter happily replied. “I can keep an eye on Meg-mi!”
When Gojo made his way into the kitchen, ruffling Yuji’s hair as the boy walked passed him on his way to join Megumi and your daughter in the living room, you instantly stopped chopping your vegetables.
You wrapped your arms around your husband’s neck.
“Hi baby,” he greeted, kissing your lips softly. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too,” with a smile, you looked into his eyes. “Did you have a good day? Kill any curses?”
“I had a great day. Didn’t kill any curses, though. I was just stuck in a bunch of meetings with the higher-ups,” Gojo said softly, his face only inches from yours, his hands on your hips. “What’s on your mind? You have that look in your eyes.”
“Well,” you paused. “I know they’re teenagers, and they’re very strong and independent, but . . . I can’t help but feel protective over those boys. I love them both like they’re my own. Last week, Yuji accidentally called me mom. He was just so excited when he saw the new clothes I got him for winter, and it slipped out. And it just made me think that, well . . . Maybe he should be able to call me mom. Both he and Megumi. I wanna adopt them.”
Gojo was silent for a moment, which made you frown a bit in worry. Suddenly, he kissed your pouty lips. It was a soft, passionate kiss — one that told you just how much he loved you.
“I think that’s a great idea,” he mumbled against your lips once he pulled away.
“I just think that those boys deserve a place to call home, and that school certainly isn’t it, especially when the people who run it don’t care about their lives at all. It’s just horrible.” Your frown deepened. “And we have more than enough room here, too. We can keep them safe and happy.”
“Let’s go tell them.”
Yuji, Megumi, and your daughter were all sitting in the living room, enjoying each other’s company.
The sight of it only confirmed that you and Gojo were making the right decision.
“Hey, we need to talk to you three,” Gojo said.
Megumi grabbed the remote, switching off the television as he struggled to sit upright.
“What’s going on?” Yuji asked, sitting on the floor as your daughter sat down beside him.
“Well, we noticed that you and Megumi have been spending a lot of time here recently.”
Gojo’s words sent an all too familiar heartache through Yuji’s chest. He frowned sadly.
“They’re about to tell me to go away,” Yuji thought. “I knew this wouldn’t last.”
“Me and Gojo decided that it would be best for-”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I get it. I can leave.” Yuji suddenly cut you off, trying his best to hide his pain behind a smile. Slowly, he started to get up, and your daughter grabbed ahold of his pants leg, looking up at him sadly. “I’m sorry if I was a bother. Thanks for everything.”
“Woah, Yuji, where are you going?” You called out, watching the teenager head for the front door.
“Yuji, stop,” Gojo stood up from his seat.
Yuji, who was almost out of the living room, instantly stopped walking. But he didn’t turn back around.
Quiet sniffles could be heard. No matter how hard he fought, or how much he had been through, he wasn’t strong enough to hold back his tears.
The pain of feeling unwanted was simply too great.
He tried to wipe his tears away quickly and silence his little sobs, as he didn’t want to make you and Gojo feel guilty for not wanting a dangerous vessel like him around.
Slowly, Gojo approached his crying student. “Yuji, you have it all wrong. We don’t want you to go anywhere.”
Yuji didn’t respond.
Gojo placed a comforting hand on the crying boy’s head.
“Me and Y/N are going to adopt you,” Gojo smiled. “Looks like you’re my son now.”
“We wanna adopt you too, Megumi,” you said, smiling at the stunned teenager. “We want you to be our son too.”
“I don’t get it — why?” Megumi asked rather sadly. The pain of being unwanted.
“Because we love and care about both of you, so why not?” You said.
“You guys . . . You want to adopt me?” Yuji turned around, his wide, glassy eyes shiny with utter shock. “This isn’t some sort of prank, is it?”
“Of course not,” Gojo grinned at Yuji, before turning his attention towards his daughter, who was starting to tear up when she saw that Yuji was about to leave. “You’re going to have two new brothers, muffin!”
Your daughter smiled brightly, standing up and she ran over to the couch, throwing her arms across Megumi to hug him. Then, she ran up to Yuji with open arms, and he bent down and hugged his future little sister.
“This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Yuji said, flickering his eyes between you and Gojo. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I promise that I’ll be the greatest son ever!”
Megumi, who stared at his lap as he tried to process everything, suddenly spoke up.
“Thank you for everything,” he mumbled. “I really . . . Thank you.”
“Let’s have a group hug!” Yuji happily suggested.
“Great idea,” Gojo added on just as excitedly. “Everyone pile on top of Megumi since he can’t come to us.”
“Wait, wait, wait-“
Megumi’s new family instantly rushed over to the couch, hugging him and giving him more love than he could handle.
Truthfully, he had no idea how to begin processing this level of happiness, but he looked forward to learning what joy was like.
When Yuji cried this time, he didn’t bother stopping the tears. The warm and silly embrace was healing his soul in ways he didn’t know were possible.
His dream had come true — everything he ever wanted.
Yuji sighed in contentment as the hugging continued, a tear rolling down his cheek.
“Finally,” he said with relief.
He finally had a family.
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Next part.
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bloodyrobyn · 8 months
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Hiding in the tags
#I am so beyond nervous#financially I technicall have 50 to my name#I have no job atm because I kept getting stressed out chickening on applications#like none of them actually felt like I would enjoy them and none of them actually financially increased my situation#and I WAS fine until my car broke down and needed over 1k in repairs#so I have until the 11 to cough up 100 monies#and until the 16 to cough up 200 monies for medical payment#and then my bday is the 18 so I have no fucking money beginning my 26 year of life#I filed for unemployment but I’ve no idea if or when I’ll get the money#like I’m praying for it to come next week just to pay off the car monthly repair plan#but I seriously want to die#like I can’t ask my family for money becuase I’ve either already borrowed or they are too broke to rely on or#they’ll fuss and stress about me which is just a terrible feeling#and thennnnnn there’s the sperm donor and I refuse to ask someone who threatened me financially already so yeah#and I’m not going to ask my friends either because I don’t want to become that type of person#where my friends see me as a lost cause#and there’s still me that needs to pay for things for a wedding I’m part of#and just I need money like#I was thinking of applying for a second credit card but they want to know what employment and income you have#can’t provide that because technically I DONT HAVE IT ANYMORE#I just feel so stuck and suffocated#like IM QUALIFIED for careers#it’s a matter of them being fucking open#and also what I’m qualified for I don’t want to actually work in atm#but I have to bite the bullet and yeah it’s not like I’d even get the jobs I’m qualified for anyway#because I just have a basic amount of experience#because all I’ve done is college for the last 7 years and then one fellowship#like I don’t even want to work because the 9 to 5 life doesn’t work well for me#like give me 10 to 6 and four days schedule but we don’t live in that world#anyway this is me praying I get the job I applied for the deadline is due tomorrow
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papercorgiworld · 3 months
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“I dare you to steal his clothes.”
Mattheo, Enzo, Blaise and Theo
Luna dares you to steal his clothes while he’s showering. I mean what can possibly go wrong… *wink wink*
Warning: smut, making out and the guys are fully naked
Mattheo and Theo picture source: https://pin.it/4GWiiih
I’m back with more low quality, cheap smut. Feedback is rewarded with my love, like even a small typo, just please let me know.
I wrote a part 2 for Mattheo and Theo: The day after the dare. Also wrote “I dare you to steal his clothes” for Draco and Tom.
You were sitting in the slytherin common room. It was late and the party was dying down but your friends refused to go to their dorms.
“Truth or dare?” Luna asks as she tries to focus on you but she’s clearly too drunk to manage that.
“Dare.”
Luna tries to get her brain to come up with a good dare, something fun. It is then that she sees a certain slytherin holding a towel and heading for the bathroom.
Mattheo Riddle
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“I dare you to steal Mattheo’s clothes while he’s showering.” You groan, you preferred to stay as far away from him as possible, but then again if you were sneaky enough he would probably never figure out it was you.
You had managed to sneak in without making any noise. You were relieved there was only one person in the bathroom. You tiptoed towards the pile of clothing and just as you were reaching for it you noticed that the water had stopped running.
“Accio.” Is all you heard before being pulled backwards straight into Mattheo. His strong arms immediately wrapped around you and pushed you against his still wet body.
“You were dared to do this, weren’t you?” Mattheo whispers in your ears, his voice is calm and amused. You swallow and lick your lips in an attempt to calm yourself. “Yes.” You murmur as you try to wiggle your way out of his arms, but he just tightens his grip more. The water droplets on his body are sinking into the fabric of your shirt.
You sigh. “Just let me go. And like, lend me your tie or something so they know I tried. I don’t want them to think I chickened out.” Mattheo leans in closer to your neck, his warm breath on your skin makes your whole body heat up. “Riddle.” You wanna complain but it comes out desperate.
“I have a better idea.” Mattheo says right before he spins you around. Your back clashes with a wall as he pushes you against it with his whole body. His amused smirk gives you mixed feelings of worry and desire. “Just the tie is fine.” You protest as his face inches towards you. You fear that if Mattheo actually kisses you, you will lose all sanity and he will have you begging in no time.
You can feel his hardening member between your legs. A not so subtle reminder that he’s naked. Mattheo’s hand lingers on your leg gently making his way up under your skirt. Your body tenses under his touch. “You can always leave. Or you can stay and maybe I’ll let you walk away with my clothes.”
As you consider your options he watches your face and slowly leans into you, his pleased grin never faltering. After a moment of quiet sexual tension Mattheo grabs your ass and lifts you up without warning. A soft noise leaves your lips and Mattheo sees your parted lips as an open invitation. His mouth is on yours and his tongue immediately starts exploring.
His hard cock teases your pussy through your panties. Out of desperation you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer, searching for more sensation. He breaks the kiss and admires your flustered face. “Look at you. Always acting like you're better than me and now I’ll have you calling me daddy in no time.” His arrogance turns you on as much as it infuriates you.
Mattheo grabs your chin to angle your face right, leaving your neck exposed. He starts kissing and nibbling at your sensitive spot, while his hips rock into yours. Your fingers entangle in his beautiful dark curls but only for a moment. You are not an easy prey.
You tugg his hair so he pulls away from your neck. “Not happening, Riddle.” His arrogant smug face starts cracking and he clenches his jaw. “You’re pretty entertaining, but I’ll not be calling you daddy.” You say trying to sound brave while you unwrap your legs. With dark eyes he lets you slip out of his hands so you land on your feet. “No tie for you, you’ll fail your dare.” You smile at his attempt to persuade you.
“Don’t worry about me Riddle, worry about the little fella between your legs.” You take a step and reluctantly he lets you walk away. Now that there’s some distance between you two your eyes fall on his hard thick member and you bite your lip, slightly impressed by his size. When you’re near the door Mattheo can’t help but try one more time. “My roommates are going to be out for a few more hours, just so you know, in case you change your mind.” You lick your lips as you're holding the door. “Sorry pretty boy, it’s going to be you and your hand tonight.”
As you close the door behind you Mattheo looks around clearly frustrated that he got played like this. An annoyed huff leaves his lips. You had already caught his eye but now you were definitely on his radar. He urgently needs another shower to cool down.
Meanwhile you walked back to your friends still shaking from all the things Mattheo had you feeling. When they see you walk in they stop talking and stare. “Yeah, it didn’t go as planned.” You say with a soft voice and a flustered face. Suddenly Luna points, clearly still out of it. “Is that a hickey?” Your eyes widen as your hand covers your neck. “Oh. My. God.” Pansy’s dramatic voice draws even more attention, while Hermoine eyes show flashes of pure panic.
Enzo Berkshire
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“I dare you to steal Lorenzo’s clothes while he’s showering.” Your eyes widen and you blush. You wondered if Luna dared you to do this because she had somehow figured out you had a crush on the Slytherin.
Either way you were currently standing in front of the bathroom door. You quietly open the door and tiptoe inside, while scanning for his clothes. However, Enzo already noticed you before you managed to spot his clothes. “Did they dare you to join me in the shower? Because you are more than welcome, darling.” You turn around with red cheeks and see Enzo with a bright smirk.
But honestly your eyes don’t linger on his face for very long. They immediately drop down to his very naked body and his dick. “Enjoying the show?” He asks and you quickly turn around. “Um, I’m sorry. I didn’t notice.” You stammer, making Enzo chuckle. “If you stare for as long as you did, you’ve definitely noticed everything.” He emphasizes the last word. “I was dared to steal your clothes.” You confess, hoping he won’t think you’re some pervy girl.
“That’s just boring. I dare you to join me for a shower, I will help you wash.” You feel your whole body heat up. “You can’t just dare me, I can still pick ‘truth’.” You hear him walk towards you, but you don’t dare to turn around assuming he’s still naked. “You’re right. So, truth then: did you like what you saw?” Your mouth falls open and suddenly you feel his breath on your neck. His eyes carefully watching your red face.
“You are unbelievable!” You try and take a step to put some distance between you two, but he wraps his arm around you. “Unbelievably hot? Handsome? Long? Big?” He teases you while his face nestles in his hair. “You know if you’re not going to tell me then you’re going to have to shower with me.”
***
“So strange, it’s been an hour and (y/n) still hasn’t come back.” Luna asks with a very confused tone. Hermoine smiles, having her suspicions. “Maybe she just got a little distracted while trying to steal Lorenzo’s clothes.”
Blaise Zabini
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“I dare you to steal Zabini’s clothes while he’s showering.” You swallow. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” Convincing drunk Luna was impossible. So here you were sneaking around in the Slytherin boys bathroom gathering Blaise’s scattered clothes like some weirdo. You had finally collected every piece and tiptoed your way to the door. However, you were still only halfway when you were spotted.
“Hey, hey, what do you think you’re doing, little smooth criminal?” You hear Zabini shout as you're holding all of his clothes. “Nothing.” You instinctively answer. He wants to say something but is distracted when he sees your eyes scan down his body. “Princes, my eyes are up here.” You let out a nervous laugh as you glue your eyes to his. It has never been so difficult to not look at something.
You don’t dare to take your eyes off his face as he walks towards you. When he stops right in front of you you feel like you’re turning into pudding. He slowly leans in, his eyes never leaving yours. Then suddenly he pulls out a towel from behind you and wraps it around his waist. You sigh relieved that you can let your eyes wander again.
“Can I have my clothes back, little thief?” He asks with an adorable smile plastered on his face. “No, I’m stealing them for a dare.” You explain like you now have every right to steal his clothes. He tilts his head, not satisfied with your excuse. “I really need them.” You urge and you earn yourself a baffled expression from him. “So do I.”
“Clothes are overrated. You can go naked.” Blaise quirks an eyebrow. “I mean you have your towel.” You gesture to his slutty low hanging towel and when he looks down you head for the door. Unfortunately, you don’t get very far as he grabs a hold of your wrist. You stumble and fall into him, making you drop some of the clothes you were holding and causing his towel to loosen and fall down. As soon as you notice that his rather large member is revealed again you glue your eyes back to his. “Your towel.” He’s so amused with your flustered face that it really doesn’t bother him anymore.
His lips catch yours by surprise, but it doesn’t take long for you to relax into the kiss. Things heat up quickly. Your hands snake around his neck and he starts exploring your entire body, squeezing and cupping your breasts while gripping your ass and pulling you into his hips. You never stop touching each other as he walks you towards the shower. “I’m going to have to steal your clothes.” He explains as he pulls your shirt over your head. “Understandable.” Is all you say.
After more than an hour you return to your friends. “Did you take a shower?” Hermoine questions when she notices you walk in with wet hair. “Who cares! Did you get his clothes?” Luna screams in excitement about the dare. “Damn, I forgot about that.” You sigh and Luna looks confused. “Then what have you been doing all this time?” “Me.” You hear Blaise say as he passes you and your friends on his way to his room. You glare but his smile doesn't fade.
Theodore Nott
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“I dare you to steal Nott’s clothes while he’s showering.” You roll your eyes as soon as you hear his name. All of your friends were convinced that you had a thing for him and you definitely admired his looks but you just couldn’t stand his smug face.
“Run in, grab his clothes and run out. Easy.” You whispered to yourself before slamming the door open with zero tact and running in. He of course immediately notices you. You spot a pile of clothes on the other side of the room and sprint towards it. When he realizes what you’re up to he steps out of the shower and heads towards the door.
You quickly hug the pile of clothes against your chest and turn around with the intention of running out, but there’s a flaw in your plan. Well, more like a very naked Theo leaning against the door. “I’m assuming you were dared to do this?” He raises an eyebrow. “Duh, why else would I be running around stealing clothes?” You were annoyed with his question and he was annoyed with your answer.
As you walk towards him it’s harder for you to ignore his massive cock, like its size is almost bothering you. No wonder his ego is so massive, just like his dick. He licks his lips as he watches you stare at him for a second too long to go unnoticed. When you look up and see his smirk, you sigh. “Just let me pass, Nott.” He shakes his head. “You come running in here, try to steal my clothes and expect me to let you walk out. You really aren’t that bright.” You narrow your eyes at him. “But you’re pretty, so maybe we can arrange something.”
The only thing between you two is the pile of clothes that you’re holding against your chest. Theo tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear. “Come on, if you get on your knees for me I’ll let you walk out of here with my clothes.” You consider your options, but he makes choosing easier by leaning in and kissing you roughly. He bites your lips and you open your mouth while simultaneously dropping his clothes. Your fingers tangle in his hair and you press yourself against him. He eagerly embraces your lust and lets himself lean against a wall.
Your hands roam his naked chest and slowly you make your way to his already harding member. When you finally wrap your hand around his thick cock he lets out a soft moan. Even though his eyes are shut he knows you're smiling against his lips. You start pumping his dick and stroking his tip. Theo's breaths become messy. He hates that you know how much you turn him on, but he can’t help himself. More than once, has he spent his time daydreaming about you going down on him and now your lips were slowly making their way down from his neck to his chest to…
“You’re already leaking cum for me.” You taunt him and he looks down at you. Fuck, seeing you on your knees holding his cock. It does things to him. “But if you think something is going to happen, then you aren’t very bright, Theo.” With those words you jump up and grab his clothes, running like your life depends on it.
Panting you reach your friends and hold Theo’s clothes up in victory. Luna cheers excitedly. Some time passes and you’ve all decided to play one last round, when suddenly Theo walks in wearing nothing but a towel and if looks could fuck, then.. you know, definitely fucked. The lust in his eyes was dangerously attractive. His eyes never leave yours as he gathers his clothes laying next to you. “I’ll get you for this.” He says with a husky voice and licks his lips. Hermoine frowns and laughs nervously. “Why do I get the feeling this is about more than just stealing clothes?” Your heart starts racing as you watch Theo walk away, you might have gotten yourself in trouble.
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fxllfaiiry · 10 months
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❥ It's so sweet, knowing that you love me
★ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader
★ summary: miguel knows you're pregnant, the only problem is he doesn't know how to to tell you. ─ or the time miguel found out before you.
★ warnings: fluff!! usage of many pet names, angst if you squint, miguel being a simp for his wife, pregnancy stuff, swearing, some shitty humor.
★ notes: there aren't enough dad and husband miguel fics out there so i had to write this!! icon credits: @/natashowlet
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Miguel knew something was off, he’s known for days.
You’ve recently been throwing up, having odd cravings and random mood swings. At first, he thought you might be sick, you thought the same thing but now he knows it's not that. You were definitely pregnant. Everything adds up, and all of it made sense, then again he could be totally wrong. 
He made up his mind to try and talk to you once you returned home, he would surprise you with a romantic dinner and bring up the subject. He had about an hour to prepare everything. 
Well, that's what he thought, the second he got up to start preparing, you waltzed in through the door. 
“Mi Amor, I’m home.” Why are you home this early? He wanted to surprise you. 
“Mami, why are you home so early?” He says pulling you into a bear hug, usually, he would squish you completely but right now he wasn't sure that’d be the best idea. 
“What, aren't you happy to see me?” You chuckle. 
“No, no I'm really happy, I was just gonna cook you a surprise dinner that's all,”  he replies bashfully
“Aw, that's so sweet.” You threw your arms around him, placing kisses wherever you could reach. “I have the best husband ever.” 
“And I have the most amazing wife, now come on let’s go make something to eat.” He scoops you up in his arms and carries you bridal style towards the kitchen. He desperately wants to bring up the topic of you possibly being pregnant but now was not the best time, he didn't want to ruin the moment. 
This conversation could wait till tomorrow, right now he just wanted to enjoy some time with his wife.  
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
“Good night, Miggy.” His head was buried into your neck, his arms were secured somewhat tightly around your belly, and your smaller hands were coving his bigger ones. 
He thought about bringing up the topic right now but quickly scratched off that idea.
He was so tired from the day's activities, he could fall asleep instantly.
He could hear you slowly drifting off, your breathing calming him down and lulling him into slumber... well almost. 
Just as he was on the verge of falling asleep he heard something ─ or rather someone. 
He could hear another heartbeat. Coming right from you. He thought he was going crazy at first, but the closer he listened, the clearer it got. He was right, you were pregnant.
Holy shit. You were pregnant. He was going to be a dad. 
In all this, it occurs to him that you didn't even know yet, he would have to tell you tomorrow no matter what.
He’s so happy. He finally has another chance, he won't mess up this time. He would do anything to protect you both.
But what if you didn't want kids just yet? The topic of kids has come up before and you both want them, but what if you changed your mind? There were so many things that could go wrong but Miguel tried to push all the negative thoughts away and focused on falling asleep. 
He slept like a baby that night. 
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── 
“So, honey, I was hoping to talk to you about something.” He avoided having the conversation all morning, now he needed to tell you. 
“What is it, Miggy?” You sit down looking at him expectantly. You could see that he was nervous, it was obvious by the way he was acting. “Is everything okay?” 
“Yes, everything is fine, mi corazón, don't worry.” How should he start? Should he just jump straight into it or start off slow? He should have thought about this before, well no time to do that now. 
He took a deep breath and it all came rushing out “I think, actually no, I know that you’re pregnant.”  
Silence. You were too stunned to speak. 
“Excuse me?” There was pure shock written all over your face, he would’ve laughed if the situation was different. 
“I heard 2 heartbeats last night, one was yours and the other one was -”
“Are you sure? I mean are you 100% sure? Maybe you heard something else?” You didn't want to get your hopes up just yet, you always wanted a baby with Miguel but if this turned out to be a false alarm you would be a little crushed. 
“I’m 9.99% sure. Bebé, if you want we can get a pregnancy test done?”
“Yeah okay, let’s do it.” 
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
An hour later both of you stood in the bathroom. Three minutes felt like hours right now. 
You might be pregnant. This isn't some crazy dream.
“Bebé, if you don’t want to keep the baby I absolutely respect tha-” He’s still not sure if you’re happy with this or not. He was worried he messed up in some way. 
“No, I want to keep the baby but I just don't want to get my hopes up just yet. I definitely want to have a baby with you.” You wrap your arms around him, his scent calmed you down. You were going to be okay. 
“I want to have a baby with you too,” he whispers. 
You lean up to give him a kiss, your hands gently coming up to stoke his cheeks. Miguel pulled back and mutters, “I love you.”  
“Love you too.” A moment later you both heard the timer going off. This was it. 
You slowly step forward picking up the stick and turning it around. 
Positive. You were pregnant. 
“Well, what does it say?” This whole thing is making him feel so anxious. 
“We’re having a baby.” His wife is carrying his baby, this is real, he isn't dreaming. 
“I knew it! I was right.” He pulls you off the ground and into a hug, placing kisses all over your face while muttering small “thank you’s” and “I love you’s” 
“I can't believe we’re gonna have a mini O’Hara running around soon,” you giggle kissing his jawline. 
“She’s going to be just like her mother. ” Knowing a mix of you and him was going to be here soon made him feel content. 
“How do you know they're gonna be a girl, hm?” 
“Just… a small feeling.” His small feeling would be proven right 9 months later.
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nereidprinc3ss · 3 months
Text
whiny and spoiled
in which reader is being a brat but spencer just can't help himself from taking off her clothes and going down on her anyway!
18+ (smut) warnings/tags: MUNCH!SPENCE (aka canon compliant!) oral fem receiving (duh lol) reader referred to as a girl, bratty reader, idk if this is soft dom spencer or if this is just pure unadulterated munch spencer who will eat pussy at the drop of a hat, overstimulation kinda, sexy and hot, will make u bust a/n: requests are tentatively open in that i may not complete them but i will surely consider them!! thank you guys for all the positive feedback, it's so motivating and i love that you seem to like my stuff so much! please lmk if you like this and what you'd like to see more of in the future! so many ideas and WIPs
You’re lounging on Spencer’s bed when he gets home, fiddling with one of his Rubik’s cubes and kicking your feet in the air absent-mindedly. 
You look up as he opens the bedroom door and gestures for you to remove your headphones, looking a little bemused at the scene in front of him. 
“How was work?” you ask, eyes tracking him as he shrugs off his bag and comes to kiss you in greeting. 
“It was fine,” he dismisses, hands braced on the mattress as he leans over you, looking you up and down. “Why are you wearing boots in bed?” 
“Because I didn’t feel like dealing with the laces.” 
“Take them off, please. You have no idea how much bacteria and filth you’re introducing to the place I sleep.” 
“Probably no more than I do with my hands,” you shrug, shaking the Rubiks cube in his face for added emphasis. He plucks it from your hand and sets it on the bedside table. 
“I’m asking politely,” Spencer says, raising his eyebrows slightly and standing up straight, probably wondering if this is the thing you’re going to push him on tonight. You chew your lip, cocking your head as you regard him. 
“I want to keep them on. They’re my good luck charm. People leave the scary girl wearing the stompy boots alone.” 
He circles to the foot of the bed. 
“Are you saying you want to scare me away?” 
“No. But I don’t need the boots to scare you,” you tease. 
You squeal when he grabs your ankles and pulls you down the bed, beginning to unlace one of your shoes. 
“Do these actually intimidate people?” he asks absent-mindedly, focused on loosening the laces. 
“I mean... I don’t know. Maybe some people,” you splutter after a moment, slightly flustered. 
“Hm. I guess I don’t find you all that scary to begin with,” Spencer admits, tugging the first boot off and tossing it to the ground before getting to work on the second one.  
“Shut up. I’m totally scary.” 
But you’re losing your steel as he looks down at you, eyes raking over your body. There is a hungry sort of sparkle in his eyes now—one that has become familiar and sends a thrill through you. 
“Maybe to people who don’t know you very well.” 
Your eyes narrow. 
“Don’t patronize me.” 
The second boot is removed and joins the other on the floor. His hands begin running up and down the front of your legs. You shiver.  
“I’m not patronizing you, honey. I’m just being honest.” The movement of his hands ceases as he seems to consider something. “Do you want me to be scared of you?” 
You swallow, eyes darting over his face and looming frame, wishing he would keep touching you. 
“No,” you find yourself saying. “But fear is respect. Everybody likes being respected.” 
“I don’t know if I agree that fear and respect are the same,” he muses, smiling ever so slightly, “but I respect you very much.” He resumes moving his hands, higher this time, over your thighs and under your skirt. “I just can’t imagine such a sweet girl being perceived as intimidating.” 
“I am not sweet,” you mutter, distracted by the way his hands skim so lightly over your skin—flipping your skirt over your stomach.  
“Right. You’re terrifying,” he amends gently, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your tights. “Up.” You lift your hips, allowing him to tug the sheer fabric down your legs and carefully off your feet. “The pink underwear are really scary,” he teases, snapping the fabric against your hip. 
“Shut up,” you repeat breathlessly, face heating. “You’re the one that got them for me.” 
“I did, didn’t I? They look good on you.” Finally, he looks up from the pink lace to your eyes. “Can I take them off?” 
“You don’t always have to ask, you know,” you breathe. Sometimes, the answer is obvious enough. 
“I like hearing you say yes.” 
You flush, because what he really means is that he likes when you get desperate. 
“Yes, you can take them off.” 
A smile flickers over his face as he slides the underwear down and off, making sure to take his sweet time. Every brush of his thumb on your calf, every delicate pass over your ankle gives you anticipatory chills.  
“Before I’m dead?” you ask, slightly strained. He tsks, tossing them on the bed. 
“Someone should do something about that attitude of yours.” 
“My attitude is your fault.” 
“Because I like giving you what you want? Sue me.” 
“Spencer,” you grit. 
He slings your ankles over his shoulders. 
“See? You’re not scary. You’re just whiny and spoiled.” 
And before you can defend yourself, or at least make a sufficiently withering reply, he’s leaning down, licking a broad stripe between your legs that for once renders you speechless. Any comment on the tip of your tongue dies as the tip of his becomes all you can think about, melting into a content moan while you rake your fingers through his hair. He sucks lightly on your clit until you’re rolling your hips and then he releases, moving to press kisses to your inner thighs. “Are you going to be nice now?” 
“Mhm,” you promise, wanting only for him to keep pleasuring you in that mind-numbing way of his. 
“Are you just saying that?” 
Another kiss. 
“No! Mean it,” you whimper. 
“Good girl,” he says, rubbing your outer thigh.  
The next kiss is planted on your clit, before he’s taking it into his mouth again and leaving you a whiny mess. You throw your head back and your eyes flutter shut, melting into the bed and not bothering to hold back your sounds. 
“Fuck.” Your voice is small, a gasp as he begins to flick his tongue over the bud, each brush against the sensitive spot making your hips stutter. He rubs your leg soothingly but doesn’t let up—you look back down to watch as best you can through your hazy, half-lidded eyes. “I love you,” you murmur. 
He laughs against you and the vibrations only make you feel higher, whining and bucking slightly when he begins to lap at your slick entrance—kitten licks so light they’re torturous. 
Spencer obviously has a goal in mind; there’s no hesitation and the teasing is minimal. He just wants to make you feel good. And it’s working. The man eats pussy like he’s in love with it.  
His name is rolling off your tongue when he kicks into full gear, firm, fast circles around your clit that make you dizzy and hot.  
“Oh, my god—” you cut yourself off with a languid, shameless moan, rolling your head to the side but keeping your eyes glued on him. He groans in approval as your hands card through his hair, moving one hand to slide affectionately up and down your stomach as the muscles there tense and flex.  
“Fucking obscene,” he mutters, pausing for another filthy, wet kiss to your cunt. “Taste so good, angel girl.” 
“Mm... wanna cum,” you beg, rolling your hips and hoping he’ll get the message. 
“You will.” Spencer takes a long, luxurious lick as if to prove his point, pulling a desperate mewl from your parted lips. “Because you always get exactly what you want, don't you?” 
“Mhm,” you agree, eyes screwing shut, but the reply quickly devolves into a stream of little ah’s that are so sweet Spencer has trouble reconciling their sanctity with their pornographic nature. And the way you unconsciously, innocently begin to pull him closer, trying to press yourself further into his mouth—well, it’s like he said; fucking obscene.  
Sometimes Spencer likes to tease you at this point, to pull away and say sweet and dirty things that always bring forth your most adorable, embarrassed, desperate whimpers. But you taste so good, and you are whiny and spoiled, and you make such pretty noises when you’re all soft and needy like this and he can’t bear to pull away. Not when you deserve to cum. And it’s thoughts like these that are the reason you’re a spoiled princess, he muses peripherally. Because he’s fucking whipped for you. 
“That’s so good,” you exhale, “just like that, please—fuck!” 
He knows you’re going to cum, and there are many things he could do, many things he could say to fuck you over for his own enjoyment, but now he wants more than just about anything he’s ever wanted to work you apart and taste you cumming on his tongue. So he keeps running a reassuring hand over your stomach, trying to remind you to breathe as you approach your peak. 
You finish, a slow wave of ecstasy washing over you, chanting his name as your hips sporadically roll and stutter into his face, and he’s making out with your soaked, messy pussy in a way that would never lead one to believe he’s ever been shy or squeamish or hesitant in any way.  
“Spencer,” you yelp, incandescent warmth radiating in soft waves from your core and slowing your movements as your hips twitch in an attempt to escape the continual onslaught of his mouth. 
“You can take it for a minute, honey,” 
A defeated, half-pleasure half-pain whine lets him know he’s won as he continues to kiss your throbbing cunt, but soon small, weak moans are slipping unbidden past the barrier of your lips. You realize he’s going to make you cum again and there’s nothing you can do about it but tighten your hold in his hair, groan, and ride his tongue as he eats you for all that you’re worth. 
The second orgasm is softer, blurrier, and equally perfect as the first. It threatens the already tenuous hold you have on your consciousness, strand after strand snapping until you’re barely hanging on. 
“Spencer,” you repeat, slurring as you try to shut your legs. “Please, can’t, baby.” 
“You could,” he says, sitting up and closing your useless legs for you, massaging the weak muscles. “You’ve done more.” 
“Mm-mm,” you disagree, chest rising and falling as your breathing slows. “Don’t wanna.” 
“That’s okay, angel. I’m not gonna force you.” 
You sigh, obviously satisfied. “That felt really good.” 
“I bet it did,” he chuckles, finally moving to lay down next to you. Immediately you curl up to him, and he smooths your skirt back down before tracing soothing patterns on the leg you’ve slung over him. “You’re so cute.” 
“Don’t go spreading it around.” 
“Never,” he promises, mocking but in good nature. The two of you lay in comfortable silence for a few moments, as you consider his decidedly unsatisfying answer. 
“You’re not even a little scared of me?” 
He smoothes your hair away from your eyes. 
“No, honey, I’m not. But I’m sure other people find you utterly terrifying.” 
You open your eyes to regard him ruefully, before they narrow again. 
“You have a little something...” you begin, gesturing to your mouth. He snorts. 
“Oh, do I?” 
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moongreenlight · 6 months
Text
“Realistic Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley headcanons” and then it’s just the fun police.
Mdni. Nsfw below cut.
- It makes me want to scoop my fucking brain out with a spoon when people say that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is some shy, anxious soft boy. I really do not believe he’d need to be coddled after a nightmare or babied when he’s feeling angsty. He is fine, y’all. Please don’t call paw patrol.
He is a soldier. He’s a war criminal. He is traumatized to the point of numbness. He is fucked up and weird and insane and honestly I think that we should all let everybody have their thing.
I cannot fix him. I do not want to fix him. I can only make him worse.
- Sorry but I just cannot write him having any kind of romantic feelings toward Soap. I like writing their dynamic more brotherly.
Furthest they’ve gone is ‘locker room gay.’
Like Johnny sends him dick pics on occasion because he thinks it’s funny and it pisses Ghost off.
That being said, I do read the occasional Ghoap fic. I’m not a perfect person. Sometimes it’s just yummy delicious.
- Feel like he’s the kind of freak to intentionally go to the gym without headphones. Something about discipline. Opting to just stare at the wall in front of him while he’s doing cardio or counting repetitions of exercises.
But on the rare occasion that he does indulge himself, he has a playlist of like 5-6 songs he likes and when it ends he just goes back to silence. Divorced dad rock. Chorded headphones only.
- Doesn’t have the debilitating commitment issues as people paint him out to have. Just commitment-phobic. Obviously stems from his past. He’s got that sexy deep rooted fear of abandonment or something horrible happening to people he actually lets close to him. But he’s not completely turned off by the idea of romantic attachments or close friends, just a little hesitant to open himself up to that kind of opportunity.
Probably very cagey about romantic partners. Doesn’t want the guys to know about you. Doesn’t keep pictures of you around his bunk or anything like that. He’s worried it’ll somehow compromise your safety. Worried about you getting swept up in his work.
- Women’s rights? Or Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley? I really do think he’d love to have a partner who lets him provide *everything* for them. He just wants to serve and protect. Wants his bird to be in a gilded cage all nice and safe and reliant on him for survival.
Doesn’t even really like the idea of you going to the grocery store by yourself. Would prefer if you just stayed put and tended his home and cooked him meals and let him dote on you and provide everything you could ever need.
- Has a really strange understanding of technology. He’s fine with the newer military stuff. That’s his element. He can do electrical wiring, set up a TV, install security cameras. That’s all whatever. But a cell phone? He doesn’t give a shit enough to keep up with the new updates and all the new things you have to learn when you get a smartphone. Wishes he would have kept a flip phone.
Texts like this: [OK. See youtonight.]
MAYBE has a private Facebook with no profile picture where the only things on his wall are Price wishing him a happy birthday every year.
His camera roll is like; 97 accidental screenshots of his Lock Screen, a few pictures of him and the task force boys, the inside of his pocket (another accident), a sunrise, a few cool things he found on missions, 34 pictures of Soap and Gaz when they took his phone.
- Insufferable in the early stages of trying to date him. Little to no communication other than basically demanding you meet him somewhere. Texting or talking on the phone? Like pulling fucking teeth. You think he’d rather be dead.
It was a headache getting him to go out in the first place. Maybe you worked at a bar where the guys would come to have a drink after a long day. He’s a little stand-offish but he’s handsome and he knows how to banter well enough for you to be persuaded by a coworker to slip him your number after you complained one too many times about a shit hookup or yet another terrible first date. It takes him nearly two weeks to phone you.
“Didn’t think you’d call.”
“Didn’t think I would either.”
He takes you out once, you think he seems sort-of interested, then he doesn’t phone or text you back for three days. You get over it. A few more dates in. You can tell he’s a bit more relaxed. A bit more open. You’re less worried that you’re a terrible conversationalist. Then he goes on a month long deployment without saying anything in advance. Radio fucking silent yet again. You want to tear your hair out. When he finally gets back, he’ll text you something like [Atthat pub you like. Drinks ?] completely out of the blue. You think you may actually go insane.
- Once he’s gotten used to you, it’s like the sole purpose of his life is to be your protector even if you’ve only recently convinced yourself he may want something casual. You’re small and grab-able. He knows how nasty people can be and what think when they see you. He needs to know that you’re taken care of, kept safe from such a scary world.
So he’ll just linger around you. All the time. Standing behind you when you’re at the till at the store, staring down the cashier who was only trying to be friendly when they asked if you had any fun plans for the rest of the day. Big arms folded over his chest. Looming so largely he threatens to eclipse you without taking a single step forward. Eyes burning a hole into the poor person who hastily finishes the transaction without another word.
Walking silently next to you in the evenings after you’re both off work; close enough to brush shoulders, but that’s about it. Listening to you chirp on about your day. Occasionally offering a small grunt of acknowledgement or a few words of interjection. Always walks on the side of the path that he thinks could pose you the most immediate danger. Shielding you from what may lurk in a darkened alley or a hedge or a small thicket of trees.
Scary dog privilege, but like… for when you go to fill your car up with gas in broad daylight in a good part of town and he insists on standing out there with you. ‘Just in case’ If he even lets you out of the car in the first place.
- AND OFF THAT POINT. I think once he’s decided that he’s actually fond of you, it goes from zero to a hundred so fast it makes your head spin.
Like the last time you spoke, it was still unclear on if you were keeping things casual or not and now you’re at dinner and the waiter just asked him if the two of you wanted dessert and Simon just grunts “dunno. Ask the missus.” ??? He sucks so bad I NEED him.
- As much as I love an overly possessive and jealous Simon, I saw this tweet that said “My girlfriend can wear what she wants because she’s a hoe and I knew that before we started dating” and it changed my life.
He’s secure enough not to need to cause a scene if someone makes a pass on you in public. He understands that you’re attractive and that other people are bound to find you attractive too. (Not that he doesn’t still want to pull their fingernails out one by one, threatening them and everything they love for daring to exist near you. He’s just got better control over himself than that. King.)
He knows he’s better than any of your other options. Nobody else could keep you as safe as he could. They don’t know the world like he does. They don’t know how breakable you are. How sweet and naive you can be.
Not to say he isn’t overly jealous and possessive, he just won’t pitch a fit in public.
LIKE dragging him to the bar with your friends and he sits at the table with all of your drinks. Him watching you dancing out of the corner of his eye, seeing some prat come up and grab your ass in passing. Or a group of guys dancing with your friends getting a little *too* close to you for his liking. He doesn’t do anything while the two of you are out- not wanting to ruin your fun. But that night after you’ve gotten back to his flat (He insisted. Closer to the bar. Uber was cheaper.) and he’s tearing your miniskirt off like it’s personally offended him. He’ll be a little rougher. A little more liberal with the marks his mouth leaves on your collarbones and inner thighs. His strong hands will grab at the fat of your hips a little harder than he should- leaving bruises where his fingers dug in. He’ll lean over you while you’re split open with his length, snarling down at you. “Had everyone’s attention tonight, didn’t you, pet?“ “You like havin’ eyes on you?” “Greedy fuckin’ slag.” “Can’t appreciate what you have.” “Need a reminder of who you’ve got to impress.” Maybe he’ll take you in front of a mirror, massive hand fixed on your jaw. Jerking your face up so you have to look at yourself being ruined by him. How pretty and slutty you look when your makeup is ruined by the tears he’s fucking out of you.
- He calls you ‘bird’ or ‘pet’ more often than anything else. A little on the nose for how he treats you. Like you’re some small, frail thing that can’t go a day without him. Stripped of your natural survival instincts and instead leaning on him for support and comfort and food and shelter. Just how he likes it.
GOD he’s a fucking freak. Gross and mean and fucked in the head. Makes my stomach hurt. I hate him. I wish I was schizophrenic so I could vividly hallucinate him.
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capableofcrying · 28 days
Note
Ok so like yk how Chris always slaps Matt’s or Nicks ass well what abt they are like live on instagram or sum and he kinda just forgets and slaps the reader ass yk and he doesn’t realized u til Nick or Matt say something and so they is like edits on tt and yea 
public, c. sturniolo
chris x fem!reader
summary: what the request says :)
disclaimers!: established relationship, flirting, cursing, use of y/n, very short, idk what else ☺️
a/n: i love when yall send requests and start it with “babe” like … what r we???? 🤗🤗🤗
a/n 2: also i need more nick fic ideas 🤕
a/n 3: this sucks goodbye
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“where’s matt? probably sleeping or something.” chris responds to a comment. nick sits back down next to him, handing him a pepsi can.
“but yeah guys, we’re back home in LA. and we just wanted to come on here and say hello for a bit.” nick smiles into the camera.
i walk into the kitchen, and open the fridge, unaware that i’m in camera view. “y/n, come say hey to the live.” nick smiles.
i walk over, a gallon of orange juice in hand. “hey guys.”
the chat starts going insane, and i slowly start to step away. chris grips the tee im wearing (which was his), and pulls me back. he manspreads, and i glance at the phone. chris shrugs, and i give him a look.
“wanna sit and talk to them, y/n? i can move seats.” nick suggests. i shake my head, and walk back behind the island. chris stands, and walks over to me.
all you could see in the background of the live was chris towering over me.
“why didn’t you sit?”
i glare at him. “you guys are on live, chris.” he shrugs. i cross my arms. “i thought we weren’t going public.”
“so friends can’t sit on other friends laps?” he smiles, and leans closer toward me. “chris.” his smile widens when he hears me say his name. “christopher.”
“call me that again.”
i laugh. “you’re unbelievable.” i begin to walk away, still in view of the live camera. i hear chris chuckle underneath his breath, and next a slap to my ass cheek.
i stop in my tracks, and turn around trying to contain my myself while i look at chris. nick had turned around, and his mouth gaped open.
“yall are fucking ridiculous.”
nick turns back toward the phone. “um… on that note, i think we’re gonna get off. i love you guys! bye!” he says.
nick picks up his phone, and walks over to us. “chris, you’re fucking insane. are you actually mental?”
i stand next to him, and look at chris. “THANK YOU!!” chris rolls his eyes, and i walk out of the kitchen, turning down the stairwell to chris’s room.
i hear footsteps behind me, already knowing who it was.
“what the hell was that chris?” i ask in a genuinely confused tone. he tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth.
“i thought it would be funny, sorry.”
“you’re the one who said you didn’t want to go public yet because of how hard it would be to have a girlfriend, then you do this shit?”
i sit on the edge of his bed. chris slumps down beside me, and leans his head onto my shoulder. “im sorry.”
i sigh. “its fine.”
chris pulls his phone out, and sees a text from nick.
“look what you did dumbass.” the text read. i giggle at the message, as chris slides it to the side, opening it.
it was a tiktok video of a screen recording from the live, and the clip was of chris slapping my butt. my eyes widen.
“shit, they’re fast.”
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peachesofteal · 4 months
Text
Light on - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: You ask Simon to babysit for you last minute. For @that-fangirl-1106 and three anons
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“Thank you so, so much. I owe you.” 
Simon stops short at your door, brows raising in surprise. He expected to see you in your ‘house clothes’ as you call them, leggings, or an old pair of jeans with a t shirt. Instead, you’re wearing a skirt, a short skirt, swell of your breasts just visible inside the V of your shirt, and his stomach twists, confusion thrumming in his veins. What is this? Where are you going? When you called and asked him to help you watch Emma for a bit, he just assumed it was so you could run some errands or something, take some time for yourself. Not for… whatever this is. 
You’ve got Emmaline on your hip, waist curved to accommodate her, and she’s babbling at you with a happy smile.  
“Are you sure it’s not an inconvenience? My sitter bailed last minute.” The door lock clicks into place behind him, and he holds his tongue, stopping the flow of one hundred questions, biting down on the urge to pull you into his chest and tell you- you’re not actually going anywhere. 
Would you agree? Would you look up at him with that sweet, beautiful face, and tell him that you won’t? That you’ll stay here, with him, instead. Where you belong.
“Simon?” Shit.
“It’s fine. I’m happy to help.” Emma coos, looking up at him, little legs wriggling in her onesie and his heart thumps a little harder, the green poison of jealously cooling just slightly when he realizes it doesn’t matter where you’re going. You’ll be coming home to him, and Emmaline, at the end of your night. 
Still. He has to ask. He has to know. 
“Where are you going?” You hand the baby to him, clucking softly, rubbing your fingers through her wispy crop of curls. 
“Out with this guy I met!” You’re excited, practically beaming, and your fingers find the hem of your shirt, anxiously plucking at it. “It’s been a while since like-“ you stop yourself, embarrassment heating your face, and you clear your throat. “No one’s asked me on a date in a while. Single moms aren’t really… a hot commodity.” His stomach clenches at the idea of another man thinking you’re a hot anything, let alone even looking in your direction. 
“Where are you going? Who is he?” 
“To the little Thai spot on seventh.” You give him an odd look. “And he’s a guy I met at the library.” 
“The library?” 
“Yeah, during story time.” You’re pulling a jacket on, and he clenches his jaw so tight he could chew through concrete. “Alright, baby, love you.” You step into his orbit, dab of perfume still wet on your neck, heat pressing into his side when you bend to kiss Emma on her forehead. Your hand brushes his against her back, something clouding your gaze when you look up into his face, something hopeful and honeyed sweet, with just a glimpse of longing, enough that blood roars in his ears. 
He should ask you to stay, tell you he’ll take you instead. Or take you somewhere better, take you anywhere you want to go. 
But he doesn’t. Instead, he watches you slip out the front door, blowing the baby in his arms one last kiss goodnight with a wave of your palm.
An hour later, a key scrapes against the metal of the lock. He’s got Emmaline and her favorite stuffed giraffe in his arms, walking circles in the kitchen, bouncing her lightly to try to soothe her pre bedtime tears, a normal routine he’s seen you do more than once. 
You slip through the door with a whispered apology, tired eyes rimmed in red. 
“Hey.” You reach for Emma, giving her a big smile and holding her to your chest, little kisses from your lips dotting her head, her cheeks. Your eyes slip closed, tension sagging from your shoulders, and he frowns, 
“What happened?” 
“Nothing. He uh, didn’t show.” Oh, sweetheart. You shrug, brushing it off. “But that’s okay, isn’t it?” you coo at Emma, smoothing a hand up and down her back. “Yeah, that’s okay. Mum doesn’t need anyone but you, huh Emmaline?” You say something about putting her to bed, and he barely hears you, too busy thinking about finding the piece of shit that decided to stand you up and breaking every bone in his body. 
You reappear once you’ve got her down, and he still hasn’t made himself scarce, lingering in your kitchen, hands in his pockets. He feels out of place, heart panging at the dejected look at your face. 
“Fuck that guy.” He grunts, and you crack a smile, tucking your arms around yourself. “He’s an idiot.” 
“Yeah.” You’re sullen, rejected, and it makes his blood boil, rage coursing through him knowing that someone made you feel less than the wonder you are. “Thanks for… I guess hanging out with her for a little while, at least. It was really nice of you.” 
“Anytime.” The kitchen is silent for a moment, reflecting your somber mood, and just as he’s about to tell you how stupid that guy is, how much of fool he is to not see what he missed out on, how much he didn’t deserve a single second of your time, you sigh out a whispered confession. 
“I guess it was pretty stupid.” 
“What was stupid, sweetheart?” 
“Going on a date when I have a baby at home. Thinking someone would even want a single mom with a baby at home.” You roll your eyes. “You know, as soon I got out the door, I was thinking about coming back? Couldn’t stop thinking about her. Wishing I was hanging out with my own daughter, and you… instead of going on a date.” His heart latches onto your words, hoarding them close, trying to memorize them so he can recall every syllable when he closes his eyes tonight. 
“That’s not stupid.” He wants to comfort you, promise you that it’s the farthest thing from stupid. 
“Maybe. Either way doesn’t matter, right? I got stood up.” You wince. 
“Whoever he is, he doesn’t deserve a minute of your time.” Your lips part, a little stunned by the steadfast vow, before splitting into a delicate smile, and your head ducks. 
“Thanks, Simon.” 
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ghostfacd · 4 months
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YES I KNOW THAT HE’S MY EX! | TOM BLYTH
pairing. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader
summary. you knew tom was your ex, and that you should probably stay away, but that’s never stopped you before
part 1 | installment of this au (please read for more context!)
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ynuser :)
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user1 im loving the aesthetic
user2 THE BIKINI TOP IS SO CUTE
user3 put them toes awayyyy
rachelzegler i pay attention to things that most people ignore (this isn’t your car.)
➥ user4 PLEASE?? not rachel using yn’s own lyrics on her
➥ user5 IS THIS TOM’S CAR??
user6 i may be delulu but those r tom blyth’s mfing hands.
user7 he has her hair tie on; i repeat, tom blyth literally has yn’s hair tie on
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When Tom had messaged you saying he wanted to talk, no matter how much you knew it was a bad idea, you decided to agree to it anyway.
The breakup had ended pretty badly. Although it was an agreement between you and Tom, that didn’t mean that’s what the both of you truly wanted.
The reason the two of you broke up in the first place was that Tom was talking too much about your future, which wasn’t a bad thing — but it overwhelmed you. You weren’t ready to settle down, not yet, at least. You and Tom had only been dating for a few months, and although it was all sweet and loving, you knew that getting engaged this early was like asking for a disaster to strike.
He was upset. Clearly. He loved you, you loved him, so why was it such an inconvenience for you to agree to take the leap in your relationship? That caused a blown out argument between you two, and by the end of it, you had agreed breaking up was the right thing.
You had a acting and music career to focus on, and Tom had an acting career that was just at the beginning of its success. You felt that it wasn’t right to put a distraction into his life.
“Is this a bad idea?” You ask breathlessly as you pull away from the kiss. You can’t help but stare into Tom’s eyes, which held a language of their own.
“Maybe,” he says, wiping the corner of your mouth. “But who cares?”
Who cares. Right. Well surely, it was a bad idea to meet up with your ex, much less kiss him, and although alarms were baring in your head that you probably shouldn’t—you go in for a second kiss, this time, Tom doesn’t let you go, cradling you close to his body.
“I don’t care if you don’t want to take the next step in our relationship, I’m fine if you’re not ready yet. I just want you, okay?”
And how could any girl possibly reject Tom Blyth when he’s begging so prettily? Certainly not you.
tomblyth and ynuser both posted an instagram story !
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ynsbiggestfan THE GIRLS AND I AFTER SEEING THE STORIES ON INSTA
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user8 IM ACTUALLY DYING BC NO WAY WAS THAT A COINCIDENCE
user9 they’re connected they cant be far away from each other
user10 she’s my Heather 💔💔
➥ user12 fr i wish tom was that inlove w me
user13 so this is why rachel said that wasn’t yn’s car
➥ user14 ITS ALL MAKING SENSE NOW
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sean.kauf photo dumpy
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ynuser pic creds ?? 🤬
➥ sean.kauf 🤓🤓
user15 wait im confused, is she together with tom again or is she with sean..
user16 Ykw i cant even be mad, if i was as hot as yn, i’d have two bfs too!
➥ user17 REAL SHIIT
tomblyth fun fact: the 2nd pic is sean third wheeling after forcing me and yn to speak to each other
➥ user17 TOM CONFIRMED IT IM DEAD
user18 all the yn haters must feel stupid asf rn after accusing yn of being with sean
➥ user19 literally cause all 3 of them are literally close 😭😭 like why would sean date yn, he’s literally friends with tom
user20 if yn isn’t dating sean let me have him omg
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ynuser yes i know that he’s my ex but can’t two people reconnect !!!!!
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user21 this took the cake.
user22 time to cry again bc tom blyth is off the market
user23 she got him wrapped around her finger FR
user24 THE THIRD PIC OF THEM 🥹🥹
user25 THE CAPTION OUUU GIRLY IS BRAVE
tomblyth i only see you as a friend (the biggest lie i’ve ever said)
➥ user26 I CHOKED
➥ user27 THEIR SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGERS ARE CRYING RN
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