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#but it’s really . nice. i feel so stupid saying this but i love it so much. every time i play the game i smile
lovifie · 21 hours
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Simon “I Will Never Be A Father” Riley, and how he ended up with a football team worth of kids.
CW: Like 2k words of fluffy Simon, and then 1k words of filth, massive breeding kink, creampie, disgusting sext talk mess. Enjoy! 🩷
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It's not his fault, it's yours. 
He met you really early in both of your careers, before either of you had really any important ranks, nor years of experience. 
But a mission together to recollect some intel was enough for the two of you to learn each other's names. 
It was back when rage still blinded more of Simon's senses, the loss of her family still recent. But you didn't know, obviously, and he wouldn't tell you. 
During that mission, he would constantly snap at you, unnecessary remarks and barks at you whenever you would ask something. 
Not that you would back down because of the overgrown chihuahua, usually just shouting back and ignoring him. Letting him to simmer in his guilty feelings.
But the time together helped to learn what buttons to press and when to act as if you hadn’t seen something, and by the time you made it back to base, to your different units; you said goodbye shaking hands and saying: “Nice to meet you, Riley. Don't die.”
He didn't say it back, but he felt it more. 
Years went by before he saw you again, and after a while, he simply assumed you did in fact, die. 
He was higher in his career, already being respected by most and always addressed as Ghost. The rage of his past was already on a secondary level. 
More mature, more knowledgeable, more experienced. 
But for some reason, he couldn't forget you. He had come across so many different people who would back down just for him looking at them, yet when he screamed at you, you didn't let him win. 
He missed you. 
He would never admit it, but he missed the girl he met on that mission those years back. Maybe if he had said it back you would be alive. 
Maybe.
“Riley?!” An unmistakable voice asks, radiant with happiness from his back. 
He turns around, eyes wide open looking for the source, for the girl he met so long ago, for the girl he thought had died. 
But he sees you.
The woman, on the same rank as his, grown, more mature, more knowledgeable and more experienced. 
Scars and wounds adorning your body just like his. 
“What is that mask, Riley?” You ask, smiling widely. “You turned emo?!”
You laugh loudly as you finally walk up to him, an awkward position of not knowing how to say hi after so long apart. 
“Aye, didn't want people falling in love with me like you did.” He says, completely baffling but still hoping it was true. 
“Argh.” You say, rolling your eyes as you slap his arm. “Well, excuse me, lover boy. Didn't know you have spent all this time fighting the ladies.”
There hasn't been any ladies. Not after you. He realises it in that moment.
“It's the uniform.” He explains, a stupid smug smirk under the mask. “And you? What have you been up to?”
“The usual, learned German, I knit now, killed a couple of hundred terrorists, and got my flying licence!” You enunciate, slightly jumping with the last. 
He doesnt realizes that the mask is not covering his eyes, and that no matter how cold and stoic he tries to act; you can see clearly as day the affection and happiness from seeing you again. 
This time, when you say goodbye, you keep each other numbers. A way to stay in contact, to check once a month if you are still alive. 
But again, time goes by before meeting in person again. 
And when it happens, Ghost is already on the 141; and it's not him the one that sees you first. 
“We are having a surprise guest on the next operation.” Price says one morning while they are having breakfast. “She’s from another base, but has an amazing resume. She's a lieutenant too. And with an ugly character, like you” He says, pointing at Ghost.
And he knows it's you. 
It gotta be. 
And a couple of days later, when you enter the mess hall; walking behind him and slapping the back of his head, he is elated.
“I knew I was smelling trash.” You say, looking down on him. Barely a bit taller than him when he is seated. 
He turns his body, resting his arm around your hips. “How long are going to be following me for, ya rat?”
“Hmm, not my fault you can't do your fucking job, useless bitch.” You say with a smile on your face as you rest your arm over his shoulders. 
“Well, somebody gotta take out the trash, you cunt.” He says, a smug smile on his face. 
“Aww, are you telling me to take you out, lover boy?” You say, resting your hand on your chest. That makes him bark a laugh, patting your side after, before saying. “I'm glad to see you are still in one piece, idiot.”
“The feeling is mutual, dickhead.” 
And that was the first time that Simon’s hand was resting on your hips, but definitely not the last. 
The first mission together with the 141 was an absolute shit show, everything that could have gone wrong… went wrong. And if it wasn't because of your stubbornness, it would have been Simon’s last mission.
Being trapped under debris, unable to get out of the burning building. Everyone was already out, only him inside, talking on the radio to tell the team to leave him behind. 
Except you, who managed to slip through Price's orders and run into the obvious death trap. Able to take the debris keeping Simon trapped with his help, both of you using the extra strength that only comes out in emergencies. Unknowingly, both of you going to the extreme of your resistance to make sure the other didn't die inside the building. 
And when he was in the hospital bed, days later, and you came to visit him, and you leaned forward and kissed him. It was the first kiss, but not the last one. 
The two of you, already adults perfectly functional, able to instruct armies, take down terrorist organisations, and yet… it was not until 8 months after the first kiss that one of you managed to ask the other out.
“The team were going out for drinks tonight, but they bailed… do you want to go still? The two of us?”
To this day, Simon still believes it was his doing that the two of you went alone to the pub, and you still have not had the heart to tell him it was you the one who asked Price, Soap and Gaz to tell him they couldn't go.
And once the door was opened, everything went smoothly and easily. Not bothering to call the relationship in any way, as if the two of you haven't been exclusive to the other from the first moment you met. 
Still, even more time went on before something more than kisses went down. Until the two of you went on separate missions, months spent apart from each other, only to reach base again at the same time. 
And as if you had planned, you walked to each other room. Meeting exactly in the middle and jumping into each other arms. 
Not that anyone else on the team had doubts about what went on between the two of you, but still was a surprising view. And you pulled Simon by his hand inside of his room, every doubt crumb was erased. 
And once it started, everything else went in a blur. By the time you took notice, the two of you were already married for a couple of years, the honeymoon phase was still strong, and expecting your first child. 
And Simon, who had always promised he would never have kids, now was obsessed with your pregnant self. During the pregnancy, he couldn't keep his hands away from your body.
Constantly feeling you up, every inch of skin, from your hips, to your breast, to your tummy. Completely obsessed and enamoured with your body, changing and adjusting to bear his child. His big-ass child. That had you wabling from the second trimester. 
He missed the birth, away on a mission when you were in your seventh month. Promising the mission would last a week, but he didn't take a step into your house until three months later. He didn't look Price at his face for weeks after the due date passed. 
The worst part was that there was no communication with you, complete radio silence. Again, like so many years ago; you could be dead and he wouldn't know. 
And when the plane landed, he took the quickest shower of his life. Because the worst case scenario was coming home to an empty house, but the worst second was holding his child for the first time with the blood of his enemies still on his hands. He wouldn't taint such an innocent thing. 
The door almost fell from the hinges when he entered, eyes looking through the house. Breathing only because he could see light from the bedroom, and then you walked out of the room. 
Looking at him with tears on your eyes as you run to him, jumping on his arms and getting crushed by his hug. Muttering apologies as he kissed your head, he still has not forgiven himself for failing you that day. 
You shake your head, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the bedroom. He freezes on his spot, as if he just remembered that he had a child; your abdomen way flatter than when he left. 
“C’mon, Si… Do you not want to meet your son?” 
A son.
He had a son. 
He followed you into the room, unable to say a word as he saw the tiny human sleeping in the middle of the bed. 
He walked behind you, waiting for instructions, his brain struggling to work normally. You tell him to sit down, picking the baby to lay him on his arms. The father finally holding his son for the first time.
And when the baby exhaled a satisfied sigh at the warmth pooling from Simon’s body, the first tear rolled down his cheek.
He didn't sleep that night, it didn't matter that he had barely been able to sleep the weeks before, he couldn't pull his eyes away from the baby. So that night, he stayed seated, with the baby on his arms and with you sleeping by his side.
The happiest night of his life. 
He finally took his parental leave, almost smashing the phone against the wall when Price called him; even though it was to congratulate him. 
And Simon, who always had believed he would never have kids, now had one. And that might have been the first child he had, but it was definitely not the last one. 
Because a couple of weeks later, when the two of you went to base; to introduce the baby to his teammates, Simon couldn't stop thinking about how good you looked with his child strapped to your body. 
His little head resting over your full breasts, sleeping and perfectly unaware of every problem in the world. But Simon couldn't stop looking at your chest, body changed to bear and care for his child; it was only fair he paid back. 
So when Gaz asked if he could hold the baby, it was Simon who helped you take the baby out of the little koala backpack; letting him hold it. 
And with a weak excuse, took you to his bedroom. Barely managing to close the door before bending you over his desk, pulling your pants down and stuffing your cunt with his thick fingers. Giving you barely any prep before the strain on his hardening shaft was too much for him to keep it away from your soaked cunt. Groaning in your ear as he thrusts fast and hard into your sweet pussy, rubbing your clit with his fingertip making you cling into the desk. 
“Such a good fucking mama you are.” He moans into your ear. “Driving me fucking crazy every time I look at you, so fucking beautiful, so fucking breathtaking, darling.”
Half of what he says doesn't make sense and the other half you can't even hear from over the sounds of the moans. 
“Gonna fuck you full of my child again, gonna keep you barefoot and pregnant, mama.” He moans again, kissing your neck from behind as his free hand keeps roaming your body, needing to feel more and more of you. “Looking like a bloody goddess with my child, gonna keep fucking you until it fucking catches, and then again, and again, and again… Do you want that, mama? Do you want it as much as me?”
“Fuck, yes!” You moan back, just as fuck out as him. The unforgiving pace pushing the breath out of your lungs, your legs barely able to hold your weight but it's not like Simon would let you fall. 
More and more words and promises keep falling from Simon's mouth, making it hard for your orgasm to take any longer to wash over you. 
But then Simon turns you around, laying you on your back and pulling your legs up, your knees beside your head; before he starts to thrust into you again, his happy trail rubbing against your clit. 
“Gonna make it catch, gonna fuck you so deep it is not even going to spill. Gonna get you fucking pregnant again, and this time I'm not gonna go away for a fucking second. Gotta give the little shit a sibling, ah?”
The stretch of your legs being pulled so back into your head making it almost uncomfortable if you were able to think at the moment. Your hands grabbing into his forearms to steady yourself. 
“The best fucking mama in the world you are, ah? Taking such good care of him.” He groans, engulfing your boob with his enormous hand. “Getting these tits fucking massive just for him, fucking little shit don't know how lucky he is to get such a good fucking moma.”
And you are ashamed to admit it, but the disgusting praises are enough to throw you over the edge; your head falling back against the desk with a loud cry of his name. 
“Fucking hell, darling.” He groans just like you. “That's it, choke my fucking cock, love. Milk it dry, suck it in. Fuck! Such a fucking perfect cunt, I would fucking live here. Sucking me in so good, such a greedy fucking cunt. I'm gonna fuck you so deep, I'm gonna give you twins, darling.”
And he doesn't give you time to breathe, his hips slapping hard against yours making you mewl at the overstimulation. Clenching down at the prolonged orgasm. 
You hear him groan over your exhausted body. “Fuuuck… Shit, love. Yeah… just like that, take it in, love, take it in. Hold it in, don't let it go to waste love.”
You fill him spill deep inside of you, pulling your legs impossibly higher lifting your butt off the desk, bending you in half with your cunt completely exposed. 
“Such a beautiful fucking cunt.” He says before leaning down, kissing your clit as if he was pecking your lips, only for him to literally make out with your cunt. Making you hiss and pull his hair back to make him stop and be able to breathe for a second. 
He pulls his head back, only to accumulate the saliva and arousal on his mouth and spit it back over your cunt making you shudder. He lowers your legs, impaling you back on his still hard shaft, pulling the breath from your lungs once more. 
“There you go, mama. Stuffed and plugged, so there is no risk.” He says, letting your legs rest down as he moves his hands to each side of your hips, pushing you impossibly closer to him, hitting as deep as he has ever reached. Slightly moving you up and down so your clit rubs against his pelvic bone, making you whine as you clench around him.
“Simon… Si, I need to fucking breathe.” You whine, trying to grab his hand.
“Nah, you got this…” He says without looking at your face, completely hypnotised by the way your folds part to take his cock in. “You are doing amazing, sweetheart.” 
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Is only hours later, that Simon comes out of his room. Clothes changed, showered and without you (who is currently sleeping on his bed, too exhausted to even stay awake), and he walks up to the mess hall, where he assumed the boys are. 
Picking his beloved son from his captain's hands. “There you are, my boy.” He says softly, picking up the baby that looks ridiculously small in his arms. “Time for bed.” 
“Oi, LT!” Soap calls him. “So when is his sibling being born?”
He looks at Soap, his expression changing to a stern one. “Don't be disgusting, Johnny. That's my family you are talking about, have some decency”.
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Taglist:
@crashtestbunny @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @waiting-so-long @mothymunson @cod-z 
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@thatonepupkai @darkangel4121  @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock  
@arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk 
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@katreintjie @sacvh @archenillo @thesinsoflust @sodavrr 
@yuki2129 @mikaronn @idk-justkane @shanhalen @thatoneslvt 
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rubberduckyrye · 1 day
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Okay in all seriousness. There's something that I REALLY want to talk about as an open discussion with the fandom, but. This is not going to be a very nice thing to hear/talk about.
It's about how Gonta is treated by the fandom.
As a fan of all the V3 characters now, and as someone who has always been a fan of Gonta, and as someone who has many mental disabilities and two diagnosed neurodivergancies... I'm tired of playing nice about it.
You all need to stop being ableist towards Gonta.
I've mentioned in the past that I don't like shitting on personal interpretations. I don't like saying something is or is not canon because narration is just a big web of text that you try to decipher with your own personal biases, experiences, and thoughts. That's why two literary analysts analyzing the same text with the same literary criticism rules can come to wildly different conclusions--why people develop different headcanons from the same canonical information.
But one of the things that challenged my integrity is just how many people view Gonta as this innocent, naive, ignorant, baby boy who can do no harm/never has a complicated/dirty/violent/sexual thought in his life ever.
This incredibly ableist interpretation of the character bothered me for, well, obvious reasons (See: It's fucking ableist, need I say more?) but I never challenged it as harshly as I am now because to be frank, it's not my place to tell people how to HC a character. It still isn't. But I've pretty much given up on my integrity on the subject and have decided to go all in on discussing why this interpretation of Gonta is just. Really bad.
First of all, not to promote my own analyses here or anything, but I think this analysis I did of Gonta explains a LOT in regards to the ableism the cast gives him in canon. I also think that this subtle ableism is why the fandom is so bad with Gonta's characterization in headcanons and fanfic--because they've seen how the cast treats him, and they think it's normal. They don't see the microaggressions, they don't see the subtle ableism in the cast--they just see this big giant idiot who speaks like Tarzan in the English version (which... I don't actually know why people assume Tarzan (Thinking of Disney's version) is stupid. Like as a boy he had to reinvent the spear with no one to guide him on how to do it. He was able to strategize and outsmart "civilized" men in the final showdown. Still I digress) and don't see the literal genius behind his social awkwardness.
There is also another very important point I'm going to make in addition to this, and it's going to be very uncomfortable to Gonta fans who insist he's nothing but a sweet baby who only has pure thoughts. Especially to the fans who insist he "can't be sexual" or think it's weird to ship him with his peers.
Sorry to burst your bubble, but... Gonta blatantly has sexual desire and gets horny right in canon.
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This is further clarified here:
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It wasn't a matter of Gonta didn't want to touch her because touching someone in their underwear was inappropriate, or being flustered because she was in her underwear which is inappropriate...
It was literally a "weird feeling" that made him unable to approach her or touch her. A "weird feeling" that Miu makes pretty obvious as to what it was--sexual arousal.
He literally was sexually attracted to and felt sexual arousal from looking at Miu in her underwear. He had sexual feelings and thoughts about Miu. Why?
Because Gonta is a young man.
Gonta is a brilliant, talented young man who has normal human thoughts for someone his age--sexual desires, upsetting thoughts, complicated thoughts, ectect. He is not a child, he is not mentally stunted (I've been informed that people have literally said this on Ao3 for the NSFW Gonta fics, please for the love of god stop that)
I think the reason why Gonta fans typically want to keep him as a "pure baby child who can do no wrong" is because treating him like the young adult that he is makes it harder for them to justify Chapter 4. Every time I've seen a Gonta fan that hates Kokichi, it's always followed by the sentiment of "Kokichi manipulated and abused Gonta into killing Miu, so it's all Kokichi's fault." They're afraid of nuance and liking a character with the grey morality of genuinely thinking Mercy Killing the cast is a viable option, because it challenges their own morals about the character they adore.
To those people who read this and are upset: You can and should like Gonta! Gonta is a magnificent character who showcases the subtle way microaggressions can manifest and hurt people, he's a good-hearted person and a literal genius, he cares deeply for his friends and loves everyone with upmost sincerity.
But.
You need to re-evaluate your stance on Gonta if you think he's a stupid, naive fool who Kokichi manipulated. You need to re-evaluate why you think those thoughts, why you think Gonta being shipped with anyone is "Kinda weird" or "has weird consent problems" or "give you the ick." You have to challenge yourself and ask yourself uncomfortable questions in regards to why you treat Gonta like a child when canon has proven otherwise, why you think he cannot have violent or sexual thoughts, why he can't think mercy killing his class is the only way to save them.
This isn't an attack on you--but understand that these specific takes on Gonta? They are ableist in nature. They belittle and dismiss him, they treat him like a child, an idiot who can't think for himself--and you have to come to terms with the fact that Gonta is a far more complex character with complicated thoughts and feelings who is a young adult. Not a child. A young adult.
So again, ask yourself this: Why are you treating this young adult like he's a toddler?
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love-that-we-were-in · 11 hours
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betting on all three for us two
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pairing: frat!luke castellan x reader summary: you think you like being a little more friendly and a little less competition with luke castellan this year. a sequel to this fic word count: 3.1k warnings: none
author's note: frat luke my dearly beloved loser son who studies pre-med this is for you you know who you are i love you
1. 
The fall semester comes at you faster than you’d like, this rapid change from a golden summer to the crisp air of being back on campus. You’re rooming with someone from an old anthropology elective you took, Silena finally moving into her sorority house. It should feel weirder, how everything has changed since spring break. 
You take the opportunity to build new habits. Early runs, no caffeine after 2pm. Little things that make the day go a tiny bit faster, building blocks to fit around your class schedule. Silena schedules weekly lunches for the three of you and there’s this gravity to it all that you want to study. 
It had been nice to be home for a few months. Your mom had missed having you there, being able to show you the new flowers she planted, how the lemon tree in the yard is twisting weirdly. Board games and family dinners and friends who never left your town. Being back home was resetting. Being back on campus was restarting.
Lee catches you as you leave the gym, offering to walk you to class if you’re heading in that direction. You smile, telling him that you have a late start and pretend he doesn’t frown when your phone buzzes. He mentions that he’s thinking of starting a study group for one of your classes and you tell him you’ll think about joining. 
While he heads towards the main building, you make your way to the campus coffee shop - caught behind the early risers desperate for something to get them through their first lecture of the day. 
“Can I get a flat white and an iced americano with caramel to go please?” You smile at the girl working the counter, stepping aside to glance at your watch.
You run through your schedule for today, ignoring the text that comes through. You know exactly what it says, the same thing every morning, and you don’t even bother to roll your eyes at this point. 
“I can’t believe you ignored my text,” Luke says when you reach the courtyard between the library and the medical building. “Not even a flame emoji.”
You stop in front of him, drinking in the jeans and sweater combination he’s settled on today. It’s a really nice sweater, dark blue and a little baggy. You wonder how quickly he’d notice it going missing. Probably not as quickly as he’d notice the stupid hat he’s wearing go missing. His backpack leans against the bench, pristine.
“No one uses those except you,” you shake your head, handing him the iced drink. “What time does your lecture start?” 
Luke tells you as if he really needs to. It’s this thing you’ve started doing since the semester began, acting like you don’t know his schedule as well as your own. As if the both of you haven’t fallen into this routine in just a few weeks. Like it’s not a highlight of your day. 
Clarisse thinks it’s adorable. Chris thinks it’s hilarious. You think it’s nice to have someone to share your free time with, beyond whatever else you and Luke have. It had been a fear of yours, when Silena mentioned not sharing a dorm with you, that you would fall to the sidelines. That life would come with these new priorities for everyone and you would only be fourth or fifth on their lists, too cemented in the day-to-day that you’d be forgotten.
Morning coffee with Luke stops that fear. 
“Did Silena tell you about the party on Friday?” 
“I have a study group in the afternoon,” Luke says, swirling his plastic cup around so the ice clinks together. “If I do go, I’m showing up late.” 
“Maybe I’ll keep my eye out for you there, Castellan.” 
He laughs and it’s like summer again. There’s something insane about hearing Luke laugh like this, unbroken and loud, nothing like it had been over the phone while you were back home. 
“You’ve got dinner with Silena and Clarisse tonight, right?” He asks, swinging his bag over one shoulder. You throw your empty cup into the trash can as you both start walking. “Is there any point in asking if you want to come round after?”
You knock his arm with your shoulder, laughing, and, instead of feigning hurt like usual, Luke just takes your hand in his, the skin a little colder than you expect. Gazing down at your linked hands, you bite your lip before sighing. 
“If I’m home before eleven, I’ll consider it.” 
Last year, when you first met him, you thought Luke only got that determined glint in his eyes when he was competing. That it was a sign of an unanticipated thrill. Since then, you’ve learnt that it’s not that at all. It’s this thing that ignites within him, determined and passionate and a little boyish. 
You think it might be one of your favorite things about him.
“I will take that deal.”
2. 
You wish you could say you were a little drunk. At least that way you would have something to blame. As it stands, you’re stone cold sober, maybe a little tired from class but nothing that can really be blamed for the lack of weight your actions seem to have right now. 
The only thing you can blame, and you will, is the boy next to you, completely engrossed in the movie playing. They’d been watching it when you arrived, all settled on the couches and you assume this is something they do regularly, and at any other time you might’ve called it cute. 
Not tonight. Not when you walked in to the discovery that Luke wears glasses and you didn’t know about it. It was something you played off, making a joke and settling into the cushions beside him. In the time since, Chris has left for his date with Clarisse and Charlie has pulled out some work to go through in the corner of the room. 
“What’s up?” Luke asks when he realizes you’ve hardly moved in ten minutes, barely even breathing. And it’s the worst possible thing he could do, glance down through the frames with that small smile you’ve gotten used to and curls loose. 
“Nothing’s up,” you let your eyes trail back to the screen. “This is a very cute tradition you guys have going on.” 
Charlie lets out a little laugh from across the room. You feel the way Luke exhales against the side of your face. You think you’re able to go back to pretending everything is normal, make a joke and enjoy the rest of the movie. The second you feel Luke’s fingertips on the skin of your knee, gentle and warm, you know you can’t. 
“You’re swerving,” he whispers, throwing a quick glance at Charlie to see if he can hear but the other boy is engrossed in his work. “Talk to me.” 
“It’s nothing,” you bite the inside of your cheek when he nods encouragingly, incredibly aware of the patterns he’s tracing on your skin. “I just think it’s interesting that you’d choose to wear a hat all the time when the glasses are right there.” 
“What?”
His hand stills and you wait. You wait and you stare at the shape of his jaw and you chuckle when it finally clicks, his adam’s apple shifting as he swallows the conclusion down. “Are you saying you like my glasses?” 
You don’t like how uneven this all feels. Whenever you’ve been with Luke so far, there’s been this mutual balance that you’ve grown used to. Even before now, back when you were locked in silly competitions, you did it on even footing, the expectation that everything meant nothing and you wouldn’t be affected. 
This, the way Luke grins around the realization, hand moving to rest on your thigh, is different. It’s heavier. It’s a loss after a winning streak and you’re kind of obsessed with the way it could drag you down. 
“I just think that hat is stupid.” 
“Yeah, okay,” Luke nods and you know, even if he doesn’t do it outright, he’s laughing. He’s categorizing the information you’ve just given him, placing it where it belongs in his mind, and it’s going to bite you in the ass. “Tell me more.” 
“Luke,” you mutter, gritting your teeth. His fingertips brush against the hem of your shorts and, when you glare at him for it, he just shrugs. You throw a glance over in Charlie’s direction. Still nothing. “Are you insane?” 
He tilts his head like he’s considering the question carefully. If Charlie were to look over, you know he’d assume you were locked in a debate about something silly - a staple of you and Luke - and it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t know for a second that you were holding onto Luke’s wrist, his hand itching to move just a little to the left. 
You sigh and the boy beside you raises an eyebrow. You both know that you’ve lost this round. 
When you press your lips to his bicep as the film credits roll, warm even through the fabric of his shirt, you mumble, “I really like your glasses.” 
3.
You aren’t used to watching things from a crowd. You’re used to focusing on yourself, on your team - not watching from a distance, surrounded by people who are there purely for enjoyment. There’s no winning from the stands. 
Luke doesn’t know you’re here. You’d sent him a text that morning wishing him luck, arranging to meet him when his debate was over. You hadn’t bothered to message him when your afternoon class got canceled, choosing instead to race across campus and find a seat in the dim auditorium they’re using. 
There isn’t the crackle of energy you get from swimming, or from watching Luke during track sessions. It’s less intense, for sure, a balance between the fire you know exists within him when he’s competing and the confidence he has in his own intelligence. You’ve argued with Luke, stupid things that neither of you care to take too seriously, and this is just the next stage of that. 
He’s got his glasses on, you note, when the debate gets underway. He’s wearing his lucky green polo, even if he’d never personally call it that, and he’s switched his smartwatch out for an analogue one. The cheap biro you’re used to seeing him use has been replaced by a fancy silver pen that he still taps against his thigh while thinking. He’s sitting straighter than usual, shoulders back. 
It’s almost like meeting him for the first time, focused and confident and sharp at the edges. 
You’re kind of obsessed with it. 
An hour and a winning handshake later, you make your way through the small crowd leaving to find Luke in conversation with one of his teammates. She smiles as you wrap an arm around his waist from behind, the slight tension still lingering in his bones melting away when he realizes it’s you. 
“What are you doing here?” He says, turning enough that he’s actually facing you now. The girl waves you both goodbye. “I thought you had class.” 
“Professor Chase had to cancel. His daughter got sent home from school with a fever.” 
Luke nods, pressing his lips to the top of your head quickly. “You didn’t have to come to my debate.” 
In the few months you’ve known Luke, you’ve learnt more about him than you expected to. You know from summer that Connecticut means looking after his sick mother, that he’s hoping to introduce some new charity events to ksig, that he used to go to a summer camp growing up. You know that his dad never showed up for anything and that he sits in the stands of all of your swim meets regardless of whether it cuts into his study time or not.
More than all of that, you know that the way he’s gazing at you now, a cross between awe and something deeper, is going to drive you crazy one day. You hope he can read the same expression on your face. 
“Thank you for coming,” he says when everyone is finally dismissed, an arm thrown across your shoulders as you make your way out of the building. You loop a finger around one of his, just because you want to. “It means a lot.”
“I told you I would,” and you had, months ago, staring at Luke’s bedroom ceiling, back when you were still caught in the casualness of it all. When Luke was just someone you pretended you weren’t trying to bump into at parties. You’d told him that you would show up for him if you ever got the chance. He’d rolled his eyes, throwing a blanket over you both and told you to go to sleep. He’d drifted off with his nose pressed against your neck. “I keep my word, Castellan.” 
“I know.”
In the evening light of campus, you think it might mean something more. Buried under the timing and the bitter wind until it’s a promise only you and Luke could translate. Asking him about where he wants to go for dinner, you like that no one else could understand the depth of it. 
+1.
Silena catches your attention as you enter the kitchen, grinning wildly and explaining her concept for tonight. Drew gave her permission to throw this week’s party, something themed and fun and it’s something she’s so proud of that you can’t help but grin back at her energy. 
“Even Charlie came,” she tells you excitedly, handing you a drink. “I feel like tonight is going to be it.” 
In all the years you’ve known her, she’s been counting down to it. You don’t exactly understand the fundamentals of what it is, if it’s a real thing or something she can just sense intrinsically. There have been moments where she’s thought of it before, mentioned it offhandedly before shaking her head - as if knowing she was wrong. 
“What even is it?” You ask and, for the first time, she breathes deeply instead of shrugging it off. 
“The beginning of the end,” she says and that doesn’t exactly explain anything. “Everything is about to change.” 
You still don’t really get it, but she’s as confident in this as she is about her clothes, so you nod like you understand. She sends you away not long after that, turning her attention to the new group that’s just walked through the doorway, mentioning that you need to be in the basement in about an hour and you just accept your fate, moving into the next room and falling into conversation with Rachel. 
*
Luke slips into the basement just as Silena starts yelling for everyone to do so, catching your eye across the room and waving. When you’re all instructed to sit down in a circle, you wonder exactly what Silena has planned for tonight. When she places a near empty bottle down in the center of you all, you laugh. 
“Are we actually playing spin the bottle?” Chris asks, prompting a murmured chorus of agreement from everyone else in the room. Silena frowns at him. 
“Wanna bet he ends up getting the most into it?” Luke whispers in your ear and you raise an eyebrow at him. “Loser has to buy the coffee tomorrow morning.” 
“You’re on,” you bump your fist to his to seal the deal. “I think he’s gonna get bored by round 3.” 
“Only boring people get bored of this game. It’s about drive.” 
“It’s about power?” Luke lets out a laugh and Silena turns her glare to you. “Sorry.”
She starts to explain the rules of the game, as if you’re all twelve again, and you bite your lip harder with every comment Luke makes under his breath. It’s a little mean, a little stupid, and you wish you were fifteen again, playing a proper game of spin the bottle for the first time.
Nothing much happens for the first few rounds, Chris starting to grumble the longer the game goes on. Luke clicks his tongue when you point it out, cursing his best friend like this was the worst thing that could’ve happened to him. 
Lee spins and it’s like cosmic interference when the bottle stops between you and Luke, the two of you glancing at each other and then back towards Lee. 
“Should I spin it again?” Lee asks when no one says anything. Silena shakes her head and says, “You can choose or we can vote if that makes you more comfortable.” 
“Please let us vote,” Chris shouts, animated and you narrow your eyes at him, ignoring the smug smile Luke gives you. “I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.” 
Lee glances between you both again, at where your knee rests against Luke’s thigh and the beer you’ve been sharing for the past twenty minutes sits between you. “It might be better to vote.” 
“Sure,” Silena smiles before silencing you all. “Everyone that wants Lee to kiss Luke, raise your hands.” 
You raise your hand and Luke mumbles beside you, flicking your leg and you poke him in return. Anything to avoid kissing Lee Fletcher after two years of avoiding it. 
“That is an overwhelming majority,” Silena says and you know, just by the way her eyes slide over to you, that she didn’t even bother to actually count. “Lee, you may now kiss Luke.” 
There’s this moment where you think Lee is going to just leave but instead he stares at the boy next to you, the relaxed set to his jaw, the annoying baseball cap on his head, how he’s so unbothered by it all. You watch as something clicks in his mind, you really want to know what it is. 
Whatever it was, it makes him grab the bottle again, ignoring Silena’s protests. It lands on the girl from Luke’s debate team and she straightens her back ever so slightly. 
“Silena,” Lee says as he leans towards the girl. “I’m not going to kiss Luke or his girlfriend.”
“Damn straight,” Luke mumbles, grabbing your hand from your lap and holding it in his instead. It’s stupid and it really doesn’t matter to either of you, you know that, but there’s this way he says it - almost like it’s the worst thing he could’ve imagined - and it settles in your gut with the beer you’ve been drinking. “Me or my girlfriend.”
“I’d really like to meet her,” you say, laughing when he huffs and pulls his hat down on your head. When you push the visor up to see him properly, all rosy cheeks and compacted curls, you think you might have found it. Whatever it is.
Based on the way Luke’s nose scrunches and his eyes crinkle, you think he understands that too. 
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Text
“Stay still. Keep spreading.” I demand, while continuing to record you.
Recording your humiliation, your pleasure.
You’re on your knees, sticking your ass up in the air and spreading your ass cheeks with your hands, while the side of your head is against my bed, and you’re looking up at me with your mouth open too.
“Three holes. That’s what you are, fuckdoll.” I say clearly while looking you directly in the eye. “Tell me, slut, which hole is the wettest?”
I know full well it’s your tight pussy that you’ve got so nicely on display for me which is clearly the most soaked. I just want to hear you say it.
“My pussy is wettest.” You say before getting back to having your mouth open and tongue sticking out. Crossing your eyes every so often to really feel like the stupid whore you are for me.
“Let’s verify that.” I say, smiling, while recording myself pressing two fingers against your pretty pussy lightly, before sliding the fingers so, so deep into you.
I start fingering you. You begin getting even wetter. You’re dripping, slut. You’re moaning. Your body is trembling.
Suddenly, without warning, keeping you right on the edge, I take my fingers out of your wet hole and move forward to stick them into your open mouth. You instinctively begin sucking.
“There you go, good girl. This hole is wet too.. but you were right, your pussy was so much wetter.”
You’re enjoying yourself sooo much you can’t even think logically about what’s to happen next.
Suddenly you hear me spit, and feel it land right on your asshole. Your eyes open, finally knowing what’s about to happen.
As they open I pull my fingers out of your mouth, and move them to your asshole. I begin rubbing my spit around your tight hole, then I press against it firmly with one finger, and begin to slowly slide it into you. Recording it all, of course.
“What a good fuckdoll. Filthy little fucking thing.”
Your pussy is getting even more soaked as I’m sliding into your ass deeper, and deeper. Nasty little thing, you love it so much.
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meowmeowriley · 12 hours
Text
Changes: A Poll-Fic
"Remember, you're not supposed to be here, so don't do anything stupid." Love you too, Price. The Captain had caved. He'd been begging to be part of this mission since they'd gotten the lead.
Soap reached up, rubbing his gloved fingers across the teeth of his mask. The mask he'd stolen from Ghost's room. Gaz had found him clutching it, dried mixture of tears and bile coating his cheeks, and forehead pressed to the porcelain throne. He'd been banned from drinking for the foreseeable future. That was the only stupid thing he'd done. Ghost wore a mask, Ghost only spoke when he had to, Ghost was hard on the rookies, and nobody questioned his mental state. But they did, didn't they? Well Soap didn't. And nobody needed to question Soap, he was fine.
"I wanna be like you when I grow up."
"You wanna be better than me, Johnny."
Well to be better than him, first he had to be more like him. So he'd donned Ghost's mask, to better embody the man's stoicism and presence. Definitely not as a way to hide his chapped cheeks and the bags under his eyes. He'd painted it red, wore a jaw print bandana. Different. Better. Yeah.
Price had finally caved to Soap's insistence he be part of this OP, but issued his warnings. "I know you don't need to be told, but I'm saying it anyway." He'd warned. "They've had him for eight months. Torture changes people, he may not be the same."
Of course he wasn't going to be the fucking same. He didn't need to be the same, he just needed to be alive.
Ghost never really spoke about his past, only left little hints here and there, but Soap wasn't dumb. He'd been through it before. Ghost could handle the torture, and Soap could handle the aftermath.
"I'm fine." He finally answered. "It'll be by the books, Captain." As if anything they did was ever 'by the books.' Price accepted his answer, though he didn't look convinced. It was just the three of them, with Laswell listening in. Gaz was in charge of collecting data on the bio weapon that was rumored to be here, Soap was in charge of the search and rescue mission, and Price was overwatch as the two Sergeants made their way in.
The trio hopped out of the truck, and Price slapped the side, sending it away. Soap and Gaz nodded to one another before splitting up to approach the building from different angles. Price silently made his way to higher ground.
The trek was agonizing, moreso because Soap found himself feeling more impatient than usual. Every time he had to lay low and wait for a patrol to pass he could hear the sand slowly falling, trickling away in the hourglass that was the rest of Ghost's life.
"You sure know how to keep things interesting, Johnny." Ghost had smiled at him, rare that he didn't have his mask, but then again, who other than Soap would challenge the Ghost to strip poker? And who other than Soap would cheat be really really good at strip poker? So good as to force Ghost to choose between his pants and his mask, the last two articles of clothing he had on. Soap himself had only one sock, and his jumper on, choosing to doff his pants so he could keep access to the cards in his sleeves. The  unpleasant cold of the metal chair against his junk was worth it, just to see the surprising decision on Ghost's part to lose the mask and not the underwear.
"Aye, like to shake things up, Sir." He'd said with a wink as he laid yet another winning hand down, only slightly supplemented by his sleeve stash.
He was certainly always one to shake things up. Here he was, itching to shake that damn hourglass up. He'd shake it, flip it upside down, bash it over someone's head and stuff the sand down their fucking throat, if it meant he'd get more time with the enigmatic phantom that had haunted his mind since that shitshow in Mexico.
Price gave the signal, they crawled forward once more.
"This is takin' longer than a constipated snail takin' a shit." He grit out into comms once the coast was clear.
"Soap, while it's nice to hear your voice again, one more quip outta you and I'm pulling you. Watch it." Laswell had gotten the cold shoulder, she'd fed Ghost bad intel. He blamed her, he didn't, couldn't blame her. She was just as worried. Probably.
He just needed to get Ghost back. Repay his debt. Ghost had saved him back then, after all. That's what this was. An eye for an eye, but in a positive way. They were good for eachother. Fixed eachothers problems. Complimented one another, personality wise. That's all.
He crept into the building, silent and unnoticed.
They didn't have much on the layout, just the outer perimeter, so they were going in blind. That didn't bother Soap, he was thriving for the first time in months. He finally had something to do other than run the rookies into the ground.
He dodged patrols, picked off the ones he could get away with had to, using the knife he'd kicked so long ago after Ghost had left it behind.
He found some unlit stairs leading into a basement they hadn't known existed. If I were keeping an incredibly dangerous prisoner, now where would I keep him? Three sets of teeth, plastic, cloth and bone, were bared towards the darkness. He couldn't help it, he felt giddy. He tried to quell his excitement, didn't need to make any mistakes now.
He made his way, thankful for his NVG's as there were no lights, even after descending the stairs. The hallway he entered had doors along one side, nothing much in the rooms, but he cleared each one as he passed. No fuck ups.
Near the end, he found a door with seven locks. Suspicious. Good. Suspicious was good, here. The other doors had been wood, dry rotted and deteriorating, this one was metal.
His eyes itched. He flipped up his NVG's.
Curiously, whenever he blinked, Soap could've sworn he could see symbols on the door, but they'd disappear the longer he looked. He'd blink, a sickening yellow circle with lines and symbols within would appear just as he opened his eyes, but faded so quickly, he couldn't convince himself it had ever even been there. The harder he stared the more the door looked perfectly normal, if you ignored all the locks.
Many many thanks to @stuffireadandenjoy for brainstorming with me on how to make this poll fic work, and to @resident-idiot-simp for being my beta, as always ❤❤❤
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furuyalover · 22 hours
Note
Hey bae! Can I request the song Something Stupid by Frank Sinatra, with any of the Haikyuu boys for your music event? - 🫧
somethin’ stupid | mars & her music event
"and then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like 'i love you'"
— ft. iwaizumi hajime
AN: tysm for ur request! this was so much fun to write & ty for joining my event! for any readers int in participating, more info ab it here ! also this is on the longer side so cozy up, & get ready for some iwa fluff
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"i know i stand in line, until you think you have the time to spend an evening with me..."
you were at a semi-formal event put on by your school, aoba johsai. despite the amount of people there, the ballroom in which the ball took place had a tranquil atmosphere. seeing your classmates in an elegant manner, looking at some of them and thinking oh wow they clean up nice, it was a rather lovely change of pace. however, only one student in particular really caught your eye. that student, of course, was the one and only, iwaizumi hajime.
he looked radiant. you've really never seen him in anything outside of his school and volleyball uniforms, so he was really a sight for sore eyes. the suit he wore was well-tailored, but you could still make out the defined muscles on his biceps. he was so elegant and well mannered in this setting, and it certainly helped that his best friend sitting next to him was being as obnoxious as usual, making iwaizumi's polished manner even more apparent,
hajime also had his eyes set on someone, you. he only ever sees you at school, in your required uniforms, so he was stricken with adornment when he saw you tonight. he had always admired you, had even a secret crush on you, (which of course was obvious to the whole volleyball team based off how much he mentions you) seeing you dressed so lovely, and looking even more beautiful than usual, how could he not gaze at you like that? but when he saw you being approached by other students, telling you how gorgeous you looked, his insecurities got the best of him. why should i even try? they already have all these other guys romancing them, i wouldn't even stand a chance, he would mumble to himself. oh how little the boy knows..
"i practice everyday to find some clever lines to make the meaning come through. but then i think i'll wait til the evening gets late, and i'm alone with you..."
after talking it over with his best friend who sat beside him, tooru oikawa, he decided to just say screw it and muster up enough courage to talk to you. he & oikawa practiced exactly what he's going to say to you, since tonight will be the night he finally confesses to you. after ensuring that his words will be perfect, he gathers all his confidence to get up, and begin walking to where you're standing & talking to a few classmates.
"the time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue"
he slowly makes his way over to you, being sure that you aren't talking to anyone by the time he approaches you. everything is gonna go perfectly, he'll have the perfect moment to tell what he's been feeling all these months.
after finishing some conversations with friends, out of the corner of your eye you see a familiar face walking towards you. is iwaizumi really coming over here? oh my god this is really happening, shit i hope i look okay. you frantically pat down your hair and clothes, to make sure you hopefully look perfect by the time iwa sees you. when he finally gets to you, you notice something about him is different. he seems more reserved than usual, almost seemingly shy?
"iwaizumi! i didn't know if you were gonna make it today, great to see you!" you say smiling like an idiot. "please, call me hajime. great to see you too, you look stunning." flustered by his affection, you look down smiling to hide your beet red face. hajime is hit with relief because now you hopefully won't see how red he is himself. "hey don't wanna sound weird or anything, but would you wanna step outside with me for a sec? there's something i need to get off my chest." your eyes widened, nervous at what he could possibly have to say. but regardless you nod in agreement as he takes you outside.
the two of you gaze out to the sky, on the balcony just outside the venue of the formal, in partially comfortable partially awkward silence. "so, um, what was it you wanted to say?" you nervously ask to try and break the ever so loud silence. fuck. iwaizumi thought. all his practice with oikawa? yea, that all went out the window because suddenly his mind is going a million miles per minute. he has so many thoughts running through his head, but he just can't seem to find the words, nor the confidence, to voice them. but before you know, the stern and intimidating volleyball player you're used to turns into a rambling mess.
"and then i go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like, 'i love you'..."
"i don't really know how to say this, but fuck it i'll just try" he starts. you take a step back to look at him, a little confused, but waiting to hear the rest. "y/n, i really like, maybe even love you. i don't know, i'm bad with feelings, but i do know that you're all i think about. i never shut up about you, and i think you're the most perfect person put on this earth. i know i'm not oikawa, and that you probably have tons of other guys who want you and i probably sound stupid but i jus-" he stops suddenly when realized that you've wrapped your arms around him and engulfed him in a hug. after hesitantly wrapping his muscular arms around you, he relaxes a bit more, and eases into your touch.
with the side of your face resting on his chest, you look up at him beaming. both of you blushing profusely, but neither of you pay any attention to that. after a moment of just staring at each other, you finally say with a smile "you are kinda stupid hajime, i like you too, maybe even love also. i don't know how you haven't picked up on that yet" this just makes iwaizumi pull you in tighter, it feels like all his dreams had just came true.
"oh my god he finally did it" "god it's about time" oikawa and hanamaki groan to each other. yes they watched this whole thing go down for a comfortable distance, partially to make fun of him but also just to support their close friend from afar
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reblogs appreciated and admired ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა
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georgeclarkesgf · 1 day
Text
forgetful | george clarke
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the minute george stepped into the flat, he knew something was off.
"y/n? you here?" walking further into the flat, he found y/n in the kitchen making herself a cup of tea, "hey, sorry i'm back so late. we missed t-"
"don't. i can't believe you. all i asked was that you not plan to film today and i wake up to a message telling me you've gone to film a video for arthur. do you even know why i asked you to stay home today?"
he was trying to remember, really he was. but his mind was blank and the guilt began to seep in, only just noticing the tears that left stains on her cheeks.
"no. of course you don't. my parents are in town george. i planned a nice lunch, maybe go on a walk, come back to the flat for a few drinks, but all that went to shit because you left to film a stupid video and then ignored my messages all day. you know how important it is to me that you get along with my parents so having to cancel on them last minute because you weren't even here was not something i wanted to have to do." the tears in her eyes were threatening to fall again, hating how needy and pathetic she sounded.
"we can sti-" george tried, again quickly being shut down.
"no george, i'm mad at you. you don't get to say it'll be alright and that we can still do something. we're not playing happy families. you've hurt me. when we sort this out, then we organise something else."
now the guilt was in full swing and he immediately started to think of ways he could make it up to her, knowing it would take a lot of grovelling to get back onto her good side.
"i'm going to bed, i love you." a soft kiss being placed on his lips.
"i love you too." slight relief evident on his face, knowing she'll never not say 'i love you', even during an argument.
she rounded the kitchen island, starting to make her way to his room and get ready for bed. george watched as she closed the door, still stood in the kitchen, contemplating whether to follow her or give her some space.
he decided on the latter.
--------
it was nearing midnight when george decided he needed some sleep, and the dip in the bed as he got comfortable was enough to wake y/n, a groan leaving her lips.
"sorry. i didn't mean to wake you," she let out an agitated hum of acknowledgement and rolled over, curling into george's side, unable to resist the heat his body always provided, "still mad at me?"
"yep." she responded, accentuating the 'p'.
"okay. can we talk about it?"
"i've said my peace. you go."
"i really am sorry sweetheart, i feel awful," her nails were running along the lines and dips of his stomach, a habit he'd grown accustomed to over the several months they'd been together, "the video was planned ages ago and i didn't even realise the dates clashed. when you reminded me of 'that thing' that was happening today i thought you meant filming. i promise to make it up to you. and your parents. please say they don't hate me."
george hoped it was enough, not that he wouldn't do anything she asked to get her to forgive him, but he couldn't stand the thought of her staying mad at him.
in y/n's head, he was forgiven. during her time alone, she realised she didn't even give him a chance to explain before locking herself in his room for the rest of the night.
"i'm sorry too," george was slightly taken aback by this, unsure what she was apologising for, "i shouldn't have stormed off like that. not even letting you speak before i disappeared all night. and my parents don't hate you. we can do dinner tomorrow if that's okay with you?"
"that's more than okay. i have my whole day free to spend with you and them. we can do whatever you guys want. i love you."
"i love you. so much. even if you are forgetful."
and george stuck to his promise. safe to say y/n's parents like george more than her.
a/n have this as an 'i'm sorry i haven't posted in a while present' <3
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faeridollz · 17 hours
Note
Virgin reader and older price 🤭🤭
(Not creepily older tho)
Feel free to ignore tho xx
“Such a pretty face <3”
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Pairing; older!price x virgin!reader
Cw; price is in late thirties reader is in mid/late twenties ^^
Synopsis; your boyfriend is more than happy to help! But surprise!!! You’re a.. virgin? :(
A/n; kinda long so there’s a divider where nfsw starts!! Also dividers from @rookthornesartistry and @cafekitsune 💋
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ˏ ˋ°•*⁀➷ TINDER WAS CERTAINLY NOT A GOOD PLACE TO FIND “LOVE.”
You knew that. But at a party with your friends, you were forced to make an account. “Oh cmon Y/N, you're still single after all this time? You know, Mya found her husband a Tinder, you should download it! You never know, you could find a real hit!” She babbled, and when two more of your friends joined in, you were pure pressured into getting that stupid fucking app.
But.. should you really be that mad? You gained a boyfriend who’s a total dilf minus the kid. It’s pretty nice actually, treated like a princess 24/7 and loved on. You love that he’s older too, he teaches you things.
So when he offers to watch movies with you, who are you to deny? Time with your lovely boyfriend is all you need. Sitting next to him with his hand gently gripping and rubbing your inner thigh. It’s been driving you crazy since this dumb movie started.
“You alright lovie?” He smirks, and you nod. “Yeah.. j-just a bit hot y’know?” Your breathing is heavy, you can’t really focus on the movie. “I understand Lovie.” Grinning, he trailed his thick fingers to your clothed cunt. skirt lifted, providing easy access.
“Wait- price..” you squirm, thighs slamming closed. “What’s wrong?” He freezes. “Price. I’m a virgin..” you’re almost ashamed. You’ve never told him before and you’re saying it now? Ugh, this is so fucking embarrassing. Tearing up a bit
“Hey hey, don’t cry lovie, it’s nothin’ to be ashamed about sweetheart.” He cups your cheek, making you look in his beautiful blue eyes. They make you feel so safe, y’know? Just so calm. And god he’s so soft, husband material but stern when he needs to be. “It’s okay sweetheart, really.”
“Really? You’re not mad or anything?” Your head tilts. “Why would I be mad? That’s absurd lovie.” He chuckled, kissing your cheek. Beard tickling your soft skin. “I dunno, It’s just kinda embarrassing.” You watch as his face falls. “It’s not embarrassing. I was a virgin too once, just like everyone else in the world. So please stop saying it’s embarrassing sweetheart. Because I swear, it’s not.”
He always seems to have a way with his words. It amazes you sometimes. “Tell me you understand sweetheart.” He nods, and you do too. “I understand love. And. I know you said it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but.. Can you uh.. touch me?” You aren’t too shocked when his eyes widen, followed by ‘Are you sure?’ Fuck this is embarrassing.
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His finger is thick, it’s expected but you never knew it could feel this good. “Feels good love?” You nod, he wanted to keep watching the movie, but he made sure to keep paying attention to you. Of course, he did. But how the hell did he expect you to pay attention to this movie? What was happening again? Shit.. it’s one finger but it feels so damn good. Curling up on your G-spot, the rope tightening in your stomach, threatening to snap.
“Fuckkk..” you whine, grinding into his hand. Breath quickened when he rubbed on your puffy clit. “I asked a question sweetheart, wouldn’t an answer be nice?” You can almost hear that cocky smile if that was even possible. But it makes you tighten around him, drenching his fingers. “g-good it feels soo~ good” shuddering when he speeds up.
“Ya think another finger would fit?”
“Y-yes- please!” Who knew you could be so whiney? Not you. But price makes you feel so good. And if this is just his finger then what if-
You let out a pathetically loud moan, how the hell did you not notice him putting another one of his thick ass fingers in you? It feels so good though, you. “Bloody hell sweetheart. So fuckin wet right? Feel good?” He nods. Moving slow, then picking up the speed a bit. “M-mhm!” You whine, the rope in your stomach finally snapping and your vision blurring a bit. Coating his fingers in creamy cum. Your cum.
Your gooey walls tighten around his fingers, hand gripping at his arm. “N-Nghhh..” you moan, shuddering as he gently pulls his fingers out of your drenching hole. His fingers were coated in a thin layer of cum. You think you may be hallucinating when he licks his fingers clean. “And tastes fuckin’ magical sweetheart.” He grins, kissing your neck. Your cunt is cold, the wetness attracting the cool air.
“Price.. you’re hard as fuck..” you giggle, his dick making a menacing print in his pants. Was it possible to be that big? You’ve seen it before in the shower and stuff but it was soft then. He’s really a grower.
Safe to say you ended the night with him passionately fucking your puffy cunt. After you followed him to your shared bedroom of course. Whining in his ear as he whispered sweet praises into yours. The prep was good too. Tongue fucking you and rubbing your clit until you were technically brain dead. Giving you time and waiting for the green light to continue. And the aftercare was one of a kind, nothing you shouldn’t expect from a total sweetheart.
He’d set a nice warm bath for you and massage your skin, even if he didn’t fuck you rough at all he’d still take care of you!! :)
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I got so carried away ughh!! 😭 but I really liked writing this 😆 reblogs and likes r appreciated!! Also if you too wanna submit an ask I would be more than happy to make you ask come true my love!
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chateaumarmontt · 19 hours
Text
I’ll probably edit this one*
Just some Everlark fluff
enjoy💝
It’s been almost a month since Peeta came back to 12. We spent that time with each other, it was healing but hard at the same time.
I try to understand my feelings for Peeta. I know I love him, but I don’t know if I’m ready to be in a relationship. How could I think about that when so many people died? I’m ashamed for the way I feel when I see Peeta in his garden, his blonde curls covering his forehead and a little part of his temples. I’m ashamed of how much I love the way his blue eyes flicker whenever I compliment his cheese buns… And now, he’s lying next to me, mouth open, his face squashed against the pillow.
Without even realizing, I put my hand in his hair and play with it. Peeta murmurs something without opening his eyes, so I let myself study the boy with the bread a little longer.
“Katniss, I can feel you staring”, he says, smiling.
“No, I’m not”, I reply, suddenly greeted by the blue eyes I know so well. Peeta raises an eyebrow and I groan:
“So what if I was staring?”
“Nothing, it’s nice. I like when you stare at me.”
His hand wraps around my waist, bringing me closer to the warmth of his body. I could stay like this all day, Peeta’s chin on the top of my head, my fingers tracing circles on his clavicle…
“Hey, who’s Naomi”, I ask.
A few days ago, a blonde girl came to Peeta’s house. She was tall, slim and had the aspect of a healthy person- her cheeks rosy red, her skin a little pale. I can’t say I was jealous when I saw her talking to Peeta, or when Peeta opened the door, smiling at the sight of her, or when she went into his house and spent almost 2 hours there… fine, maybe I was a little jealous, but I’d never admit it to him.
“How do you know…”
“I heard you talking to her last week. I had my window open and yeah… Not like I was spying on you!” I wasn’t completely lying. Naomi’s high pitched voice was what drew my attention.
“Oh, she’s Rye’s wife… was”, Peeta replies, a sad smile on his face, “I try to be nice to her since, you know, she has no one but her baby and her brother in law.”
I feel stupid for asking. How could I believe Peeta would be seeing anyone else? After all we’ve been through, he wouldn’t leave me…would he? We’re not officially together, so he could be seeing someone else and I’d have no right to judge him. The thought of not sleeping next to him and another person feeling the warmth of his strong arms drives me insane.
“Why? Are you jealous?”
I look up to see the blonde boy smirk. It’s better than seeing him sad, but I still roll my eyes:
“Yeah, right”, I blush and try to bury my face in his neck so he won’t notice, but his fingers bring my chin up so that I’m looking into his eyes again.
“Oh, my God, you are! You’re blushing”, he laughs.
I sit up straight and hit him playfully:
“No, I’m not!”
Peeta raises an eyebrow and I can’t help a little smile:
“Shut up.”
“Come here”, he says amused, now sitting up and pulling me into his lap, “It’s adorable when you’re jealous.”
Our faces are so close… too close. I can’t give in, I can’t do this to Peeta, I don’t deserve his love. He saved me so many times and all I did was hurt him.
“No one else ever called me adorable, Peeta”, I barely whisper, closing my eyes, so that I can’t be tempted by him. God knows I can’t keep myself together when he looks at me with those puppy eyes.
“No one else really matters”, he says, his warm breath lingering over my lips, making me lick them without realizing.
“Peeta…”
And it happens. I can’t control myself, my hands around his neck, I bring him even closer to me. It’s the hunger I’ve felt before, the hunger that makes me behave like a selfish animal. And I am selfish for bringing him into this, for not letting him get the life he deserves with a normal girl, not a fucked up 19 year old that’s been through the Games twice and started a revolution… but God, did I miss him on my lips.
“Katniss”, he pulls away, gasping for air. I take the opportunity to look at him again, like I did this morning: his curls are even messier than usual. This satisfies me because it was my hand who did that. His cheeks are flushed, his lips swollen, his chest going up and down, trying to get more air. I can’t help but imagine Peeta with nothing on, lying in my bed in the morning. My cheeks must be burning like crazy and I mentally scold myself for thinking about it.
“Did you hear me”, Peeta asks amused, bringing me back to the present moment.
“What?”
“Kiss me again?”
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simgaroop · 2 days
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I think I am neurodivergent.
There is no official diganosis and at this stage in my life I probably won't look for one. But in recent years I've started to think I probably am one. I even thought about asking my therapist about this, just before she released me a couple years ago. But it just felt like I was making things up at the moment. Besides, it is pretty stupid for a mental health specialist to self-diagnose, so that's why I am not saying this with complete certainty.
Huh, this is one of those posts I should be writing in Spanish.
Anyway, why am I randomly posting this in my Sim blog? Well, because I am exhausted. I've spent the last two months carrying a huge figurative boulder on my shoulders and just pretending (or masking) non stop. If you met me in person, the most likely impression you would have of me is that I am a very calm, warm and sweet person, who has her shit together, is the voice of reason, a great listener, someone who is eager to come up with solutions to any problem. Someone who has control over her emotions, who likes "normal" everyday stuff. People look up to me and I am constantly been asked for support, both in my professional and personal life. I am so nice and adaptable, that I was able to practically live in a hospital for over 5 weeks, just leaving it to go to work.
However, deep inside I am a very anxious woman, who is triggered by thoughts of death, disease (of loved ones), doctors and hospitals. I need to have my time to be alone. I prefer (almost need) to sleep in a very dark room and listening to movie or videogame podcasts. I've always been into videogames and animated shows, and I tend to obsess about those topics. I used to write a lot of fanfiction and loved it, but have never told a soul because I am so embarrased by it. I prefer to be alone, I hate to make and answer phone calls and when I get a notification on Whatsapp I really need to take a moment to even read the message (and it is even worse if it's a voice message). I am socially awkward in situations that are not related to work. I used to stimm a lot when I was a child, and I still do it when I am stressed. I was a picky eater. I used to be the lonely child who preferred to be by herself and only made friends because my parents were worried. I do not watch series on Netflix, but I can browse Youtube for hours and watch Lets Plays and documentaries about shows. I've always wanted to share my nerd tendencies, but I can't, because I am a woman in her forties, and my family and social circle look down on that stuff. So I constantly pretend and only when I am alone at night I can browse and look at the stuff I like, which is honestly very innocent, but I feel like I have to hide it.
And these last weeks I have had to constantly hide myself in my "social" and "professional" self. And I am exhausted. I feel like my heart is heavy. And it is even affecting my work performance.
So I come to my nerdy spot on the Internet to vent. To the one place in which I can sort of be myself and hope like someone might read this and understand.
*Reads Post* Wow, this is why I mostly lurk. I sound like a 15 year old and my urge to pretend that everything is fine with me is screaming that I do not post this. 😥
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astaraels · 3 days
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Omg, I’d love to hear more about the galladads/starr verse universe!!! ❤️ what would mick and ian be like at the first school event they go to with starr? A little outta place over protective dads?! ❤️❤️
Oh man, I feel like they'd feel so out of place because they're so obviously not her parents, but her bio parents disowned her and so somehow through the magic of fanfic they're able to at least become her legal guardians. (it probably takes a LOT of paperwork considering prison time and all that but this is fiction I do what I want!)
So Ian is insistent that they dress nice to make a good impression and Mickey doesn't see why his regular clothes are a problem but he puts on a nice button up anyway (and Ian ties a tie for him <3) and Starr is so chill okay—fuck you guys she's not nervous or anything—and they go to her school, talk to her teachers and everything
They are glad to see a couple of other kids that say hi to her in the hallway and everything, and she's all quiet and a little bit shy (aka the exact opposite of her regular personality—she first showed up all anxious and angry when the guys took her in, but she's gotten to be pretty bubbly and boisterous and really come out of her shell lately) and Ian tries to give Mickey a Look™ about it but Mickey is just worried about the kid
And thankfully Starr enrolled at school after she's started taking blockers and such, and she's socially presenting as a girl, so she doesn't have a lot of people misgendering her like they did at her old school, although anyone who does will be very quickly corrected—it'd probably be teachers since they'd be more aware of the situation? But most of her teachers are pretty chill and call her Starr and use she and all that
But yeah anyone steps a toe outta line and the guys have got her back. Like I said before Mickey would walk into this knowing nothing about trans stuff, but same as with Ian's bipolar he would do his research because it's important to the people he considers family, and they've very quickly accepted her into their family
But I do think that there's probably some stupid assholes who give Starr a hard time at school (as there always is) and Mickey gets super protective of her—he's there to pick her up and makes sure the bullies get a good look at him, knuckle tats and all, so they know exactly what they've got coming if they mess with his kid (not that Ian is above giving asshole bullies a good punch in the face, but "they're teenagers, Mick, you can't hit them!" "you think they know that? fuck no")
Also he tells Starr that if she's gotta then she can tell people she lives with ex-cons so that the bullies get scared away (she tells him that no, she'll fight her battles, and Mickey's like "okay then I'm at least gonna teach you how to throw a punch" and poor Ian gets to be the punching bag 😂)
I feel like they'd try to help build up her confidence and give her the tools to protect herself, you know? Especially because they want her to feel like she's safe in a world that's not always kind to people like her, and she deserves a chance at a good life. Ian also gets her signed up for like, boxing classes or something after school when she talked about being interested in doing something like that. But she also loves doing girly things like shopping, and Mickey endures the mall now and again for her sake (lbr he grumbles the whole time but he's there okay) and Ian always asks her to show them what she got since she clearly comes home all excited about it
I just love them letting her have the chance to be a kid and a teenager and give her a sense of autonomy while still trying to make sure she stays safe. They remember their own lives growing up and want her to have the best of everything that she can, especially with what she's already gone through. And yeah, she'd be a stubborn bratty kid sometimes but Ian had to deal with all his siblings, he's used to it :p he'd read parenting books for foster parents and figure out the best way to meet her where she's at, that sort of thing
okay I think that's all for now because this reply went on a lot longer than I expected but! I hope you enjoyed some more Starr verse ramblings! I love talking about her she's my new favorite OC tbh
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hils79 · 3 days
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Title: Flavours of Love
Fandom:  盗墓笔记重启 | The Lost Tomb Reboot (TV), 盗墓笔记 - 南派三叔 | The Grave Robbers' Chronicles - Xu Lei
Relationships: Wang Pangzi/Wu Xie/Zhang Qiling
Summary: 
“Tianzhen, I want to teach you how to cook.”
This isn’t the first time Pangzi has made this attempt. It’s not even the twentieth. Pangzi lost count some time after that. But he clings to the hope that somehow this time will be different. That somehow retirement has magically removed Wu Xie’s ability to burn food just by looking at it.
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“Focus,” Xiaoge says softly but firmly from where he’s perched on the counter near the door. It’s where he likes to sit when he’s watching Pangzi cook anyway, and if he happens to be close enough that he can intervene if Wu Xie does something stupid then that’s just a bonus as far as Pangzi is concerned.
“I am focusing,” Wu Xie replies with a pout. “Ooh, can we make steamed buns? Or noodles? Or, oh, I saw these really nice looking dumplings in a Douyin video and—”
Pangzi pokes him gently in the shoulder to bring his attention back to the lesson at hand. “You’re trying to run before you can walk. Now, just take a breath and listen to your Pang-ye. If you listen and do well I’ll reward you at the end.”
This is what he has been reduced to. Bribing one of his lovers as though he were a small child. And the sad thing is it works. Wu Xie’s eyes light up at the sound of reward and he immediately gives Pangzi all of his attention.
“Good boy,” Pangzi says and he doesn’t miss the way something flashes in Wu Xie’s eyes at the praise. That’s something for the three of them to revisit later. In the bedroom.
“The first thing you need to do,” Pangzi says as he sets a few things down on the counter in front of Wu Xie, “is familiarise yourself with your tools.”
He can already feel himself regretting everything about this venture when he picks up one of the kitchen knives. It’s not his best knife. He wouldn’t even let Xiaoge touch his best knife so he’s certainly not going to let Wu Xie near it.
“This is the most important utensil in the entire kitchen,” Pangzi says as he hands it over to Wu Xie.
“I know how to use a knife, Pangzi,” Wu Xie points out and then touches the blade with the tip of his finger to see how sharp it is. Blood wells immediately and Wu Xie hisses a curse.
Read the rest on AO3
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13eyond13 · 1 year
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Update on trying to be less lowkey about being gay at work. I told one of my bosses I'm "not straight" and i got a rainbow thingy to stick on my phone
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comfortfrogblog · 1 year
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individuating feels like putting on glasses for the first time again but with your heart and your soul
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rithmeres · 8 months
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genuinely these panels are going to make me ugly cry
#i'm not back for real yet i think i want to stay away longer. i'm just here to put more things in the queue and answer messages#i really enjoyed trimax vol 4 idk something about it was less miserable than 1-3#might have been the first volume that i wasn't grimacing the entire time i read it. or maybe i'm just desensitized now.#unironically this prayer is soooo beautiful to me. give us this day our daily bread. not bread for the week not bread for a year#just enough for today.#lately when i've been praying it just looks like#please for the love of god please please please please please PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPL#things are not looking good for the community house.. lots bureaucracy with the city. and the church that funded us is falling apart#i don't know what i'm going to do if we get shut down it's the one thing in my life that's worth anything#all those kids... where are they going to go. who is going to help them. where is the neighborhood going to get their food.#in two days it will be the anniversary of [REDACTED] and i am so so so scared#just sat in my room today and fruitlessly scrolled thru jobs im not qualified for & tried not to think about thinking about killing myself#i don't WANT to kill myself i don't want to think about it i hate thinking about killing myself i will never ever kill myself or even try#but there is a demon or perhaps a ghost or evil wizard that tells me there's an easy way everything can go away. and it's A STUPID. BITCH.#please do not reply to this post i know you all mean well but i just don't think i can handle it.#talking about it i mean. and hearing people say nice but empty things.#i just wish i had someone to sit next to me.#personal#i don't want to go to church tomorrow :( it all feels so fake and i do not ever feel fed.
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sskk-manifesto · 25 days
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(*・ω・*)b♪
#I'm a bit late but :)#Mmmhh lots of thoughts about this episode. Nothing really relevant though lol#I like it... Mostly. Well‚ I like Atsushi‚ and I like Atsushi screentime.#I always forget that there's actually a one week timeskip within the Guild arc#I think these chapters were generally better executed in the manga.#But even then it's just...#Why do the make the Guild / Fitzgerald so. dumb. Why do they make them act so wildly irrationally and at the protagonists' advantage#It really gives villain acting entirely mindlessly to make the plot advance and the heroes win. It's really sensless.#I mean especially when Atsushi yielded. Why didn't Fitzgerald take his offer. For real!!#For real. He had NOTHING to gain from proceeding with his plan. He already obtained for Atsushi and the ada to collaborate.#Now they are NEVER going to help him‚ and that's agreat loss for him.#And idk. i hear that little Tumblr post in my voice saying “why would you complain about characters acting irrationally!#Do people irl never act irrationally?”#And yeah I get Fitzgerald was frustrated for losing Mitchell and his fight with Hawthorne. Okay I understand.#But that's definitely too much. That's him acting downright stupid at the heroes' advantage and it's just pretty underwhelming to read?#That said. It's just general notes I'm not particularly annoyed because like. That's just b/s/d to you. Dumbing down the villains a second–#so the author can escape the trap they put themselves into. Very Marvel-esque move lol.#On that exact same note WHY WOULD LUCY HAVE THE DOLL.#The doll is the whole premise for your plan working why would you not protect it with everything 😭😭😭#I'm not getting in the Lucy / Atsushi scene itself. I love Lucy but I swear every time that scene gets played a femminist dies#(it's me. I'm the femminist dying every time.)#Mmmhh a couple more things. I dislike the ost choice in the scene where Steinbeck is torturing Q it feels so out of place#And I really don't get what's the deal with the Hawthorne / Fitzgerald convo it's so confusing to me. Like it It looks like Hawtorne is–#blaming Fitzgerald for Mitchell's condition (both in health and for her family status) but...#Objectively neither of those things are Fitzgerald's fault? Idk maybe I just have very little media comprehension for this arc because–#a lot of things just seem to happen with no sense. But it's okay#Im complaining a lot lol but its mostly irrelevant things (or like with the dumbification of villains things I've learnt to live with lmao)#But the episode was generally nice. The animation this season is consistently very pretty.#random rambles
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