#2 sauces tall even

[madakunn]

#enstars #ensemble stars #enstars fanart #trickstar #hokuto hidaka #subaru akehoshi #but theyre kids #2 sauces tall even #born 3 seconds ago #look at them... ueee

[sycamorelibrary754]

Merry Christmas

Summary: It’s the most wonderful time of the year. You and Natasha are off to the annual Stark Christmas Party. Little does the team know that a special surprise awaits them.

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Natasha x reader, Avengers x reader (platonic).

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

A/N: This is part 2 to Happy Thanksgiving! I recommend reading it first, but it can be read as a stand-alone story as well. I hope you enjoy!

“Be down in a minute, malyshka!” Natasha called from your bedroom. 

You were standing in the kitchen eating peanut butter out of the jar topped with chocolate sauce. A “homemade Reese’s” you dubbed it. Your first pregnancy craving that had Nat popping down to the corner grocery store at 2 am for the dynamic duo of ingredients. 

“No worries, love!” Already dressed for Tony’s annual Christmas party at the compound. Clad in a green Sequin-Lace Halter Twist-Neck Jumpsuit, your baby bump beginning to show. 

The click of Natasha’s high heels signaled her arrival a few moments later in a sleek long-sleeved red scoop-back midi dress that hugged her in all the right places. 

“Wow, Nat. You look beautiful. Red is most definitely your color.” 

“So you prefer it over the black,” she smirked as she put on her earrings.

“I didn’t say that now, did I,” with a wink.

“The baby enjoying its homemade Reese’s?” grabbing her clutch. 

“Very much! I was thinking,” Putting away the chocolate and peanut butter. “Tomorrow we could make fudge!”

“Ah, because the baby has such a sweet tooth?” 

“Yes,” you giggled.

“Well, whatever the baby wants, I suppose,” wrapping her arms around you in a loving embrace before leaning down and kissing your stomach.

“You ready to drop the baby bombshell tonight?” Patting the top of Nat’s head. 

“Yes, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous,” sighing as she stood up. These are the same people who freaked out when they found out Clint had a family. How are they going to handle this?”

“Like the amazing aunts and uncles they were meant to be,” grabbing Natasha’s hand. “Plus, I think announcing it with the Christmas crackers is a cute idea.”

“I hope so,” placing a soft kiss against your lips. 

“Frankly, I’m more surprised Yelena hasn’t blabbed yet.” 

“Oh, that’s because I warned her if she told anyone I would make her run with me every morning at 5 am until the baby is born.”

“Well played,” high-fiving your wife. 

“Thank you,” she smiled. “Now come on, let’s go get our holiday cheer on.” 

*^~^*

The drive to the compound was even more beautiful during the holidays. A light snow fell as you passed house after house dressed in beautiful Christmas lights. Natasha placed her right hand on the center console. You softly intertwined your fingers with hers and placed a soft kiss to the back of her hand. 

You are greeted by a rush of warm air upon entering the compound lobby. Natasha shook the delicate snowflakes out of your hair and off your coat. You both step onto the elevator and are welcomed by the soothing voice of FRIDAY. 

“Merry Christmas, ladies. Welcome to the annual Stark Christmas party.” 

“Merry Christmas, FRIDAY. How’s the party so far?” You asked as the hum the elevator carried you up to living quarters.

“The party is in full swing. Mr. Stark is currently treating guests to a medley of Christmas carols.

“Of course he is,” you giggled.

“You know, he only plays that baby grand piano when he gets a bit tipsy,” Nat said. “When we got home from our month-long undercover mission in Romania, he celebrated on the jet and then made us all listen to his rendition of Dancing Queen.”

“Aww, and I missed it!” Feigning disappointment.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened to joyous noise and laughter. An abundance of greens, reds, gold, and silver flashing here and there, adding opulence and brightness. Classic poinsettias tied in tradition, and shiny bows and foiled paper glistened under the 12-foot tall Noble Fir Christmas tree, inviting their recipients to sneak one open before the actual day.

“Hey, the Romanoff’s are finally here!” Clint exclaimed as his kids rushed over to both of you.

Nate jumped into your wife’s arms as you hugged Lila and Cooper. It seemed like every time you saw the Barton kids they had grown a bit more. It was thanks to Banner and Cho that you were carrying a child that would be half yours and half Natasha’s. Looking at Clint and Laura’s kids and how they resembled their parents, you couldn’t wait to see what features your little plum would inherit from each of you. 

“How’s my little namesake?” Kissing Nathaniel’s cheek. Have you been practicing the punch and kick combinations I taught you?”

“Practicing the what?” Laura asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing,” Natasha smirked as Nate giggled. 

“You two look great, I love the green and red thing you’ve got going on,” Clint said.

“Thank you. Lovely Christmas sweater by the way. I especially love Rudolph’s glowing nose.” you pointed.

“Hey, the Barton’s are the cream of the crop when it comes to ugly Christmas sweaters.”

“Clearly,” Nat teased.

“I’ll take your coats,” Cooper offered.

“Why, thank you. What a gentleman,” you winked at Laura as you handed him yours and Natasha’s pea coats. 

You scanned the room and noticed Wanda putting the finishing touches on trays of Christmas cookies. You put a hand on Nat’s shoulder and motioned toward the kitchen. She gave you a quick nod as you meandered over to the counter. 

“Wanda, Wanda, Wanda… what do we have here?”

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you,” wrapping you in one of her signature hugs that you loved so much. “This is my parents’ Christmas cookie recipe,” she proudly declared. “I convinced Tony and Pepper to let me handle the desserts this year. So, we’ve got cookies, the Viennese torte is in the fridge and the pumpkin pie is cooling.” 

“Wow, you have been busy,” you smiled. “Anything I can do to help?” 

“Yes, you can take a cookie and go mingle. I’ll be done in a few minutes,” handing you a charming little cookie decorated like Santa. You took a bite and couldn’t believe it. It was the best cookie you had ever tasted.

“Mhmm, Wanda! This is amazing.”

“That is why I will always vouch for homemade over store bought goodies. Now seriously, go mingle,” shooing you away.

You turned back around to see your wife sitting by the fireplace talking to Steve, champagne in hand. As you started to across the room you were intercepted by a festively-dressed Kate and Lucky.

“Y/N! Hey, oh my gosh, I haven’t seen you in so long! How are you?” 

“I’m good! I see you and Lucky are enjoying the party,” petting the Golden Retriever.

“Absolutely, say hello to Santa Paws and Mrs. Claus!” Kate exclaimed. Unfortunately, we’ve lost Yelena. She’s our elf,” glancing around the room.

“Wait, Yelena’s dressed as an elf?” Eyes wide. “Oh, that’s fantastic.”

“Yeah, if you see her will you send her our way? We’re supposed to be taking the photo for our holiday card tonight.”

“Nothing would make me happier,” you smirked with a hand on Kate’s shoulder.

You bid the young archer and pooch farewell and rejoined your wife.

“Hey, deka,” Wrapping her arm around your waste. 

“Y/N, I was just telling your wife that she needs to find her holiday spirit and come Christmas caroling with us next week,” Steve said.

“Natasha singing? I’m not sure that would be good for community morale,” you joked 

“Says the woman who performs one woman tributes to Harry Styles in the shower?” Nat giggled.

“Hey, my rendition of Sign of the Times is highly praised, I’ll have you know.”

Tony and Pepper join your little huddle with Morgan in tow.

“Romanoffs! You have to try this Hot Buttered Rum,” Tony remarked.

“Oh, I love Hot Buttered Rum, but I think I’ll stick with sparkling cider tonight,” you said “Nat would probably love some though, right, love?” 

“Sure,” grabbing the glass from Tony’s hand as Steve looked back at you curiously.

You peered down at Morgan who was sitting on the ottoman next to the fireplace. Ever since you found out you were pregnant you were drawn to children like never before.  

“Hi, sweetheart! You look so pretty tonight,” kneeling down to the little girl’s level.

“Thank you, Aunt Y/N,” she grinned.

“Are you excited for Christmas? You are clearly at the top of Santa’s nice list this year.”

“Really?!” Morgan squealed.

“Oh, absolutely, I have a feeling the man in red is going to be very good to you this year,” you winked. 

“Did you hear that Daddy? Aunt Y/N said that I’m on the top of the nice list!”

“I sure did, squirt. I didn’t realize Aunt Y/N was so tight with St. Nick,” eyeing you coyly.

“Oh yeah, we’re on a first name basis. I’m surprised you’re not?” Smirking at the billionaire. You loved Tony like a brother, but you enjoyed giving him crap.

“Trust me, Mrs. Romanoff, I’m much closer to Santa than you are.”

“Really, do you have a direct line to the North Pole?”

“Are you having milk and cookies flown in from Holland? Because you know those are his favorite,” raising an eyebrow at you.

“Ooookay, that’s enough,” your wife placing hands on your shoulders from behind. “You both know Santa. You both have giant egos. Merry Christmas,” Nat mocked. Come on Tony, let’s go grab some hors d'oeuvrs for our better halves. I’ll be right back, detka,” leading the billionaire toward the kitchen. 

You couldn’t help but admire Natasha as she walked away. Looking back over her shoulder, she smiled at you with all the love in the world. You just about melted right there in front of the fireplace. Snapping out of your love daze, you noticed Pepper grinning at you.

“What?” 

“Oh, nothing. I just can’t help but notice how glowing you look tonight,” as Morgan pulled her away towards Clint’s kids and Steve strolled away to join Bucky in conversation with Rhodes. 

“Pssst… Pssst!” 

You turned around just as a styrofoam snowball was about to hit you in face. You caught it in one swift motion. 

“Nice catch,” a Russian voice said.

“Yelena, where are you?” Glancing around not seeing your sister-in-law.

“Over here,” poking her head out from the behind the seven-foot snowman next to the pool table.

“Oh, now don’t you look adorable as an elf,” you giggled.

“If you weren’t pregnant with my niece or nephew you would be hanging upside down from the rafters right now.” 

“You know Kate and Lucky are looking for you, right?” 

“Why do you think I’m hiding behind the giant snowman? Kate Bishop forced me to dress in this saccharin American Christmas costume and now she wants photographic evidence of it.” 

“Because she loves you, silly,” your arms crossed over your chest.

“Detka, it’s time for dinner. Let’s go—“Natasha stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of her sister. “Oh my God,” she burst into laughter. 

“Tred carefully, sestra,” Yelena threatened. 

“No, I love it. I think this qualifies as new mission suit attire,” poking the bell dangling from her elf hat. “Maybe you can get Stark to upgrade this outfit with Widow Bites.”

“Do you have a death wish?” Yelena sneered.

“Come on you adorable elf, it’s time for dinner,” placing an arm around your best friend’s shoulder.

*^~^*

You took your seat next to your wife at the Astoria Grand Giovani dining table. Natasha quietly squeezed your hand. You looked over with a shy smile and a festive blush on your cheeks. 

Pepper stood up from her seat next to Tony at the head of the table. “Before we enjoy this lovely holiday feast, I just wanted to take a moment to tell you how grateful we are that you’re all here,” grasping Tony’s hand. “Everyone in this room knows how precious life is and we don’t take a moment of it for granted. We love you and Merry Christmas.”

“Here, here!” Thor declared a couple seats down from you as glasses clinked around the table. 

A traditional Christmas dinner soon filled your plate. Roasted turkey with all the trimmings. Home baked bread, mashed potatoes and garden veggies gently roasted, drizzled in balsamic vinegar. The group drank, were merry, and told the most terrible of jokes.

Pregnancy mood swings were becoming commonplace and as the dinner wore on, you suddenly found yourself overwhelmed with emotion at the sight of your extended family enjoying the holiday season together. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Carol looked at you with concern in her eyes from across the table.

“Oh, yeah” dabbing at the corner of your eyes with your napkin. “I’m fine.”

“The holidays always make her a bit emotional,” Natasha offered laying her head comfortingly on your shoulder.

After dinner you helped Wanda serve the desserts. The Christmas cookies took their place in the center of the table, flanked by the Viennese torte and the pumpkin pie. Coffee and dessert wine circulated around the table. 

The group of full bellies and ever so slightly sleepy eyes then made their way to the living room to relax. Christmas music softly enveloped the room as the kids were discussing what they hoped Santa was going to bring them this year. 

“Okay, Kate Bishop. Let’s get this picture over with. I want to put on my pajamas,” Yelena announced as she stood from the sofa.

“Yay!! Okay, don’t move. Lucky! Here boy,” calling the dog who promptly romped over. “Vision, can you take the picture?”

“Of course Ms. Bishop.” Taking the Canon EOS R-50 from the archer. 

“It is customary to say cheese before a picture, but since it is Christmas time perhaps you should say mistletoe?” 

“Just take the picture,” Yelena deadpanned

“Mistletoe!” Kate yelled. 

“We’re going to get one of these cards right?” Looking at your wife. 

“I had Kate put us down for two,” she smirked.

*^~^*

As night fell, you rested your weary head on Nat’s lap as she ran her fingers through your hair. 

Natasha looked at her watch. “You ready to drop the baby bomb?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. I’ll get the Christmas crackers,” rising from the sofa.

“Umm, everyone. Y/N and I have a special gift for you all,” your wife announced nervously as you passed out the gold and silver novelties to the team. 

“Christmas crackers? I have to be honest, I was hoping for something a bit more extravagant… Oww!” Tony whined, as Pepper pinching him on the arm. 

You smiled with nervous anticipation as you reached for Natasha. The snap of the festive crackers echoed across the room. Clint was the first to reach inside and remove the tiny gift. A small round ceramic white ornament tied to a red ribbon appeared in his hand. Lila, Cooper, and Nate huddled around their dad to get a glimpse as Clint read the inscription.

“Uncle Clint?” Looking up at Natasha in shock.

“No way!” Sam shouted.

Wanda, Carol, and Kate all screamed at the sight of their own ornaments. Their names adorned with the title of Aunt.

“This is joyous news!” Thor crowed. 

Pepper got up immediately and embraced you in a warm hug as Laura did the same with Natasha. 

“How far along are you?” Wanda asked.

“Almost three months,” Yelena cut in.

“You knew?! Why didn’t you tell me?” Kate shouted; slapping her girlfriend on the arm.

“Because I want to sleep in!”

“I’m so happy for you, Nat,” Steve kissing her on the cheek. 

Bucky wrapped his arms around you with a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“You ready to be Uncle Bucky?��� Your eyes meeting his gaze.

“Oh God,” his face like a deer in the headlights.

“You’ll be great, Buck,” you giggled. 

Bruce and Helen embraced Natasha in a tandem hug.

“I’m so relieved everyone knows,” Helen said turning to you. “Now we can openly discuss your pregnancy. Have you been continuing with your prenatal vitamins?”

And remember, you have an appointment on Friday,” Bruce interjected.

“Yes and yes,” you said as Natasha placed a soft kiss to your cheek and then another to your belly. 

Tony walked up to you with that signature smirk on his face. You mentally prepared yourself for a signature Stark one-liner or some stupid joke. Instead, he took you by surprise when he wrapped you in a warm embrace.

“Congratulations, Romanoff. Looks like you do know Santa best.” 

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff and you #black widow #mcu #fluff #the avengers #steve rogers #tony stark #Clint barton #yelena boleva #kate bishop #Sam Wilson #Thor #Carol Danvers #Bruce Banner #Helen Cho #Laura Barton #Pepper Potts #vision #Morgan Stark #james rhodes #Lila Barton #Cooper Barton #nathaniel barton #avengers compound #christmas fic

[luminoustarlight]

As Fate Would Have It | Chapter Two

It's your first day of work at Skywalker Enterprises.

◂ chapter one ▸ chapter three

rating: mature | pairing: dilf!anakin skywalker x afab!reader | wc: 3.7k | read on ao3

warnings: swearing, age-gaps, sexual fantasies

The moms at St. Lucas Preparatory School are shameless. Single, divorced, and married women (and some men) alike can’t help but hold their breath when Anakin Skywalker steps onto campus. The dads are intimidated by him and the moms… well, let’s just say the moms have less than school appropriate thoughts about the billionaire. 

Anakin detests the end of the year. He hates being involved at the school. He doesn’t want to spend 2 hours of his day off packing meals in a crowded gymnasium with other parents who also don’t want to be there. 

He doesn’t want to make small talk or ask about Luke and Leia’s classmates because frankly, he doesn’t give a crap. The only children he likes are his own and he won’t pretend otherwise. 

“Mr. Skywalker,” Leia’s teacher, Ms. Clark sighs, “you are the only parent in my class who has yet to sign up for a slot at this year's Cranberry Sauce.” Cranberry Sauce is just the name the school gives the Thanksgiving Drive to make it sound more “fun”. 

Anakin gives his children a kiss on their foreheads and sends them through the school gates. Once they’re out of earshot, he addresses Leia’s teacher. “I already wrote a check to buy the damn food. Isn’t that sufficient?” 

“Mr. Skywalker,” Ms. Clark repeats with annoyance. If it were up to her, she’d let Anakin donate all of the money he wants in order to keep him from volunteering at school events. She thinks he’s arrogant, stuck-up, and far too handsome for any man to be. So she decides to loathe him since she can’t fuck him. But Headmaster Franklin is adamant Anakin attends the event. 

“I really insist that you participate for at least an hour at Cranberry Sauce next weekend. It is important for your children to see you involved at the school. At their school.” 

Anakin’s tall and broad stature seems to grow even larger at this statement. How dare this woman insinuate anything about him as a father? 

“You think I’m not involved in my childrens’ lives?” Anakin has just enough self-control not to completely raise his voice at his daughter’s fourth grade teacher. Especially since parents are continuing to drop off their kids. “You think I’m an absent father who gives the school money to compensate for my lack of paternal instincts?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Ms. Clark answers cautiously. “There is no need to make a scene. I have no doubts you are an excellent father, Mr. Skywalker. I don’t think Leia would be the young lady she is if you weren’t. One hour. That's all we ask.” 

Anakin raises an eyebrow. “We?” 

“Oh, um, well-” Ms. Clark stammers. Busted. She sighs with defeat. “Headmaster Franklin would very much like to see you there.”

“I’m sure he would,” Anakin replies smugly. Headmaster Franklin wants him there for publicity. Anakin should be more pissed about that than being accused of not being a present parent, but he’s not. He likes his ego stroked every now and then. “One hour.” 

“Thank you,” Ms. Clark smiles tightly. “Does 10-11 work for you?” 

“Fine,” Anakin waves his hand dismissively as he gets a message on his phone. 

Ben Kenobi 

Your new secretary is here. 

Shit. It’s Anakin’s first day without Dorothy. No wonder the morning has gone the way it has. Between Luke spilling orange juice on his shirt, Leia’s uncooperating French braids, and his conversation with Ms. Clark, Anakin can’t help but fear the change in routine with a new assistant. He types his response. 

Anakin Skywalker

Assistant. Not secretary. I’ll be there in 20 minutes. 

Ben Kenobi 

If you say so. 

Ben Kenobi is Anakin’s closest friend. Some might even call them brothers. Ben is fifteen years older than Anakin, married to the mayor, and enjoys fly fishing on the weekends. He’s also Luke and Leia’s godfather. Should anything happen to Anakin, there is no one else he’d trust to raise and watch over his children than Ben Kenobi. 

And Ben knows better than anyone that Anakin doesn’t like change. He’s been dreading Dorothy’s last day since she told him she was retiring a year ago. How was he going to find someone as good as her? Someone who anticipates his needs before he does? 

That’s why he tasked her with finding her own replacement. He’s just too busy to interview a replacement for Dorothy himself. He wouldn’t know what to look for, anyway. If he doesn’t know what he wants in a woman to date, how is he supposed to know what he wants in a new assistant? 

.

.

. 

“Mr. Skywalker is not in at the moment. Can I take a message?” You’ve uttered that exact sentence at least seven times since you arrived at the office at 8:00 a.m. Now, as it nears 9:00, you expect to see your new boss very soon. 

Each time you hear the elevator ding, you look up with hopefulness at the arrival of the esteemed Anakin Skywalker. What will you say to him? How will you introduce yourself? Will he be nice and welcoming? God, you hope so. You’ve read just about every article, watched every interview, and listened to every podcast he’s done to prepare yourself for the job. The consensus is the same in all of them. 

Anakin Skywalker is generous, he’s polite, and generally gets along with everyone— if you don’t get on his nerves. And, according to Dorothy, he’s a charmer. 

“Yes, absolutely,” you say while taking notes of the message on a legal pad. Your head is down so you don’t notice Anakin walking out of the elevator. He stops 5 steps away from your desk. His ribs feel like they’re collapsing around his lungs because of that voice. Why does he know that voice? 

“I will let Mr. Skywalker know you called as soon as he gets into the office.” You hang up the phone and as you look up, there he is in all of his gorgeous glory. 

You actually have to tell yourself to take a breath because he’s even more handsome in person. Faint lines around his eyes represent years of life he lived before you were born. His dark blonde hair is combed back effortlessly and is it wrong that you want to run your hands through it? Yeah, probably. He’s your boss and over twenty years older than you. 

“It’s-” Anakin can’t even say more than that because holy fuck. Is he dreaming? He squeezes his eyes and then opens them, only to see you now standing with your hand extended to him. “It’s… you.” 

“Um, yes,” you say while awkwardly returning your arm to your side. “I’m Y/N. Your new assistant. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Skywalker.” 

“I- um, yes,” Anakin clears his throat. Christ, that wasn’t even a sentence. “I need to take care of something,” he says on his way towards his office. “I am not to be disturbed until I come out. Do you understand?” 

“Y-yes. Yes, sir,” you barely answer before Anakin’s office door is shut violently. Well, that certainly wasn’t the introduction you were expecting or hoping for. You’re starting to think not meeting him beforehand was a bad idea. It honestly should’ve been a red flag but Dorothy insisted it was fine. 

It doesn’t seem fine. 

And things definitely aren’t fine. For Anakin, that is. To say he’s freaking out is putting it lightly. He paces the length of his office, shoving his fingers through his hair and muttering to himself. “It can’t be. There’s no way it can be her.” 

Maybe he’s hallucinating. Maybe he’s having an incredibly vivid dream where his favorite OnlyFans performer, who he has known as HoneySuckle for the last three years is his new assistant. What did you say your name is? Anakin couldn’t hear you over the erection that was forming in his pants because he knows your voice. He’s cum from your voice alone. He’s cum because of you so, so many times. 

This can’t be happening. 

He’s never seen your entire face but he knows it’s you. He’d recognize your lips in a police lineup. He hears your voice in his wet dreams. He just knows it’s you. 

And the fact that he has a hard-on is a problem. A problem he wishes you could take care of but you can’t because now you work for him and he’s your boss. This is all so, so wrong. 

Anakin doesn’t so much sit on his leather chair as he does collapse into it. This was never supposed to happen. Yes, he has dreamed about meeting you on more than one occasion. He’s thought about telling you who he is during your countless direct messages so many times. He’s thought about using his infinite resources to find out who you really are on more than one occasion.

But he always concluded that it would be so insanely wrong and borderline creepy if he did that. You were always supposed to remain a fantasy. Just a nameless woman on a screen who doesn’t live in the same country, state, or city as him. 

Yet here you are— sitting outside of his office, taking his calls, calling him Mr. Skywalker and being even more beautiful than he could have imagined. 

You are no longer the woman on his tablet spewing filthy words as you make yourself orgasm. You’re tangible. You have a name- although he can’t remember what it is. He replays the interaction over in his head. The feeling he felt when he saw you was reminiscent of seeing his wife walk down the aisle at their wedding. He was a blundering mess then, just as he is a blundering mess now. 

He doesn’t even want to think about your first impression of him. He’s supposed to be Anakin Skywalker for crying out loud! The suave, handsome millionaire who has the ability to make men cower and women fall to their knees. The embarrassment he feels from that interaction is enough to subdue his hard-on. He pours himself a bit of Bourbon, shoots it back like it’s a normal thing to do at 9 in the morning, and prepares to reintroduce himself to you. 

Anakin smooths his hands down his slacks before opening his door. As his eyes are magnetized to you, his heart starts beating irregularly. Get a fucking grip. 

You stand attentively when you notice Anakin walking towards you. Worried you made a terrible impression on him, you wait to speak. But Anakin doesn’t say anything either and now he’s standing in front of your desk, all tall and lean and smelling like Cedar and Whiskey. He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read. Did Dorothy tell him anything about you? Or did he go into this just as blind as you did? 

His eyes seem to dance all over your body which makes you feel like he’s studying you. Or criticizing every single thing about your appearance. From your simple burgundy dress to the pearl studs you bought with some of Skyguy81’s most recent (and overly generous) tip. 

Finally, because his gaze on you was becoming too much to bear, you are the one to talk first. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Skywalker?” 

Yeah, you can remind him of your name for starters. “Do you have messages for me?” is what he asks instead. 

“Yes,” you answer, picking up the pad you’ve been scribbling notes on for the last hour. “Rex sent over the final schematics for the 0525 project that needs your approval by 3 p.m. today in order to begin production. Mayor Kryze’s office called about the upcoming Gala in December and wanted to know if you would be in attendance. And if so, how many tickets should they reserve? Oh, and someone from St. Lucas Preparatory School called to let you know that your son ripped his pants and needs a new pair brought to school because they don’t have any new pants in his size.” 

Anakin taps his index finger on your desk while he listens to you. He barely registers anything you say because it’s really hard to hear your voice without getting aroused. It’s hard even looking at you without automatically picturing you naked. There’s not an inch of your skin he’s never seen. Well, except for the top half of your face which now, of course, he has seen. And God, does he love what you have to offer. 

You’re still relaying messages but suddenly you’re bent over your desk, gripping the edge of it with pale knuckles as Anakin slams into you over, and over, and over. He’s making you yelp his name so loudly the whole building can hear you. 

“Mr. Skywalker?” 

Anakin snaps back into reality where you’re still fully clothed and definitely not moaning his name. “What?” comes out a little harsher than he intended. And he immediately regrets it when he sees you visibly shrink right before him. 

“What- what would you like me to tell the Mayor’s office?” 

Anakin has gone as a bachelor to the last two Christmas Galas. Ben stays close to Satine the whole night and he really doesn’t see the point in asking a woman he has no interest in to be his date. Plus, going alone lets him leave the party with whomever he wants or to call it a night and go home early to watch ELF and drink peppermint cocoa with his kids. 

“Have them put me down for 2.” 

You nod whilst making another note on the pad. “And what about your son’s pants?” 

“Did they say where he ripped them?” 

“Right down the middle,” you answer. 

Anakin shakes his head. “Oh, Luke,” he mutters to himself. “Alright, I’ll go home and get him a new pair.” 

“Icandoit,” rushes out of your mouth. 

“What?” 

“Sorry, my mouth moved faster than my brain,” you reply, hoping Anakin will find it endearing instead of annoying. “I said I can do it. I don’t mind. It’s my job, isn’t it?” 

Anakin opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything. Yes, technically it’s your job to do this sort of errand. But Anakin doesn’t want you going to his house alone, sifting through his son’s drawers, and bringing him new pants to his school. 

Primarily because he’d much rather you be in his home under different circumstances. 

“We’ll go together,” Anakin decides against his better judgment. “I’ll drive.”

.

.

.

So, Anakin definitely didn’t think things through when he said he’d drive. 

In what world did he think sharing a close, confined space with you was a good idea? This whole morning has been a cluster-fuck. Honestly. He’s still struggling to wrap his head around who you are. When you announced Squirting for Sky was going to be your last video, he thought what a devastation it would be to not look forward to your videos every week. Who would’ve thought you’d be the one replacing his dear old assistant the very next week? The odds of it all are overwhelming. 

But isn’t this what he’s always wanted? The opportunity to meet you? To know your name and know you personally? Every wish of his has been granted— except for the fact that he is your boss and you are technically his subordinate. He says technically because Dorothy always felt more like family than an employee. 

You could be family. 

You could be so much more than his assistant.

Oh, Jesus Christ, Anakin. Be reasonable. She’s your employee. She’s practically a kid. 

Anakin looks over to you for the first time since getting in the car. You’re pressed against the side of the passenger door, knees angled away from him and arms crossed over your chest. “Are you cold?” 

“Oh,” you say, looking at him with a tentative smile. “A little.” 

“You should’ve said so,” Anakin turns on the heater and your seat warmer. “My kids call seat warmers butt toasters. Let me know if your butt gets too toasty.” 

You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing. 

There’s an awkward pause as Anakin realizes what he just said. He absolutely cannot think about your butt any longer than he has to because we all know how that will end.

 (A hard cock, in case that wasn’t clear). 

 “I mean, uh- shit,” Anakin briefly closes his eyes to compose himself. Let me know if your butt gets too toasty? 

“Just turn it off yourself if you get too warm.” 

Do you make him nervous? No way. You decide to let it go. “Kids? Plural?” 

“Yeah.” Anakin drapes his right arm over the center console and taps his fingers against the gear shift. Long, dexterous fingers at that. You have to look away before you start thinking about something completely inappropriate of your boss. “I have twins. A boy and a girl. Luke, he’s the silly one. Right now he’s big into archeology. He’s also pretty clumsy, hence the rip in his pants. And Leia, my daughter, she’s far too serious for any 9 year old to be. She says she wants to be a senator when she grows up.” 

This is the longest you’ve been able to look at Anakin without feeling your cheeks burning. Now, they’re just hot because of the heater blasting in your face. “You light up when you talk about them,” you say. “You must love them a lot.” 

“More than anything,” Anakin doesn’t hesitate. “Here we are.” 

You should’ve been paying attention on how to get to his house from the office. Surely, you’ll be running these errands on your own if things go well with your employment. Oh, well. That’s what the Maps is for. 

Anakin’s house is a stunning Eichler. It looks straight out of an Architectural Digest cover. The lawn outside is perfectly cropped and perfectly green but littered with a soccer ball, football, a baseball bat and whiffle balls. You wouldn’t have pegged Anakin for a mid-century modern kind of guy. You would’ve thought he’d opt for an insanely modern, sterile house. 

As you walk through the atrium and into the main body of the house, it’s clear it is a family home. Anakin uses his foot to sweep his kids’ shoes out of the way so you don’t trip over them. “Sorry about the mess.” 

“It’s okay,” you shrug. Anakin’s house isn’t even all that messy. It just looks like a home. There are so many pictures on the walls, it would be impossible to look at all of them in one go. One in particular, though, catches your eye. It’s the largest out of all of them and the only one in black and white. A significantly younger Anakin is at the bedside of who you presume to be his wife with two bundles of babies in their arms. They are both looking down and smiling. His wife was stunning. They definitely made an attractive couple. 

It’s not lost on you that there are no other pictures of Anakin’s kids with their mom. He’s only spoken about his wife’s death in one interview, about a year after her passing. If you remember correctly, she died shortly after the twins were born. 

You can’t imagine the kind of pain and heartache Anakin must have felt losing his wife. You don’t know what it feels like to experience that kind of grief. You want to tell Anakin you’re sorry for his loss, but what good will that do? Is there any consolation in that at all? 

You’re still looking at the photo when Anakin returns from Luke’s room with a new pair of tan pants. You can feel his presence right beside you and the silence is louder than words. 

He shouldn’t have brought you back here. It’s only your first day and you’ve already seen too much of his life. 

“Let’s go,” Anakin orders. You nod without a word and follow him out to the car. 

The tension in the air is palpable on your way to St. Lucas Prep. You feel like you’ve done something wrong by simply stepping foot in Anakin’s house. His whole demeanor shifted when he came back to the front room with Luke’s pants. Does he regret bringing you to the house? If so, why? Dorothy clearly laid out your responsibilities to you. Tending to personal matters at Anakin’s house is part of the job. You are not just a professional assistant, but a personal assistant, too.

You can’t stand not knowing why someone is upset with you. “Did I do something wrong?” 

Anakin’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. “No.” 

Wow, how reassuring. “Okay, then why do I feel like I did something to upset you?” 

You’re really pressing your limit with him right now. You’ve only just met 2 hours ago. See, this is why meeting him should’ve been part of the hiring process. You’d be a lot more acquainted with each other than you are right now. 

If only you knew how acquainted Anakin is with you… 

“You didn’t,” is all he says. But with a twitch of his jaw, you still feel like he’s not telling you the truth. 

“Look, Mr. Skywalker,” you begin. “I understand Dorothy meant a great deal to you, and her leaving is going to be an adjustment. But I promise you I am capable of this job. I’m never late, I’m up late all the time so if there was anything you needed, I’d be able to fulfill it. I love kids, I’m a hard worker and I would really appreciate it if you gave me a chance before making any decisions about me.” 

“You’re right,” Anakin says. “I’ll give you a chance.”  But he’s already made up his mind. He doesn’t have to ‘give you a chance’ to know that he wants you. He is crawling out of his skin with how badly he wants you. And he knows it’s wrong, probably immoral, but he really doesn’t care. Because now that you’ve been inside of his home, the boundary that should exist between him as your boss and you as his employee feels impossibly blurry.

◂ series masterlist ▸ chapter three

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x f!reader #dilf!anakin skywalker #dilf!anakin #dilf anakin skywalker #modern!anakin skywalker #modern anakin skywalker #modern au #anakin skywalker fan fiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #as fate would have it

[lazyjellyfish300]

Dad's "Best" Friend Peter B. comes to Dinner🍝🍷

DBF!Peter B. Parker x Fem shy less experienced!Reader

Synopsis: Your dad's new friend from work comes over for dinner and he's a lot cuter than you were expecting. 💋 Word count 5.8k

A/N: Giving my man Miguel a damn break for once LMAO. Jk, it won't be for long, I just have like 6 wips with him at the moment and can't decide which one to work on. 😩 Then I had a dream about Peter B. and so now let me get this out of my system. I was gonna let us f*ck but then I got to 5k words so part 2?! Lmk.

TW: MINORS DNI, LEGAL AGE GAP: PETER B. IS 38, READER IS IN LATE TWENTIES, SMUT (69, ORAL SEX F AND M RECEIVING, READER HASN'T HAD AN ORGASM BEFORE/LESS EXPERIENCED, FINGERING, HANDJOB, ORGASM) IMPLIED DIFFICULT RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR DAD, READER IS SHY WITH SOCIAL ANXIETY

------

"Dad...."

"You're not burning the meat, are you?"

"It's literally the same spaghetti sauce I always make! Out."

Your dad shoves a spoon into the pan of bubbling red tomato sauce and steals a taste, huffing frantically like a dragon at the hot temperature.

"It's not ready yet! Jesus..."

You shoo your dad out of the kitchen for the umpteenth time with a roll of your eyes. Normally, you couldn't give two shits about making dinner, particularly when your dad almost always found something to complain about whenever you cooked, leading you to take a semi-permanent hiatus.

However, you found out he was inviting his new friend from work, and you quickly realized you'd rather die than subject an innocent stranger to the atrocity that was your dad's cooking skills.

Instead you let him handle dessert, easily solved with a frozen ice cream cake from the store. You looked at the clock nervously that was creeping up on 7 pm. The guest would be due to arrive at any time.

You didn't worry about dressing up too much since you were running around all evening, wearing one of your college crew neck sweaters and favorite leggings. At least you cared to match your fuzzy socks this time with your hair just the way you liked to wear it and a freshly done face with the level of makeup you'd flaunt for special occasions.

At the sound of a small knock from the door, your dad grumbles, saying he'll answer it and he shuffles towards it with a burnt tongue. You resume anxiously tending to the sauce, mentally preparing yourself to socially mask for the next two hours.

You hear a man's voice. It's mellow and humble, turning down your dad's overbearing insistence on waiting on him hand and foot, meekly asserting he can hang his own suit jacket and graciously thanking him for inviting him over.

At the sound of their approaching footsteps in the kitchen, you turn, offering your most gorgeous smile to the new stranger, your dad's new so-called "best friend" (a title easily acquired by anyone who let him mindlessly yap about world governments for longer than five minutes), and extend your hand to him.

You feel your pupils dilate when you're greeted with a firm yet soft grip that contains almost a fraction of the warmth as the silken chestnut brown of his eyes.

He looks younger than your dad, somewhere in his late thirties. He's tall, about 6'2 with a lean muscular build that's highlighted in the way his white button down shirt hugs his arms, the bottom of which is tucked into gray slacks that sit on his narrow waist. He wears a pleasant smile with dazzling teeth.

His tone of voice is soothing, almost innocent with an edge of allure in the way he said certain phrases that you can't quite put your finger on, kind of like how he said...

"You must be my friend's daughter. He didn't mention how lovely you are..." Making your cheeks nearly hotter than the spaghetti you prepared.

"Ah, well, she gets it from her old man!" Your dad cuts in. You can't help but sigh and turn your attention back to the food, not knowing that Peter's eyes wouldn't leave you the rest of the evening.

At dinner, you politely dish up both men a healthy serving of buttery spaghetti and the rich, homemade sauce. A medley of sweet tomatoes and fresh garlic fills your belly as you all silently eat. The gentle sounds of your metal forks tapping against the porcelain of your plates and the hollow sound of wine being sipped from a glass.

Your dad blabs and practically monopolizes the majority of the dinner conversation. You tune in only to the part where he introduces Peter B. a little further, a small smile playing on your lips as you nod and listen intently as he tells his story.

He's Peter Benjamin Parker, a 38 year-old divorcee with a nearly four year old daughter who works in finance alongside your dad.

They bonded over similar interests and your dad loudly cuts in and says since Peter was one of the only people at work who truly recognized his potential for what it was, he'd told him he'd repay him one of these days with a homemade dinner and glass of wine at his place, to which he simply couldn't say no.

Your dad goes to butt in and steer the conversation back to his isolated ramblings but Peter politely cuts him off,

"I'd like to hear more about you," he says with a smile. The twinkle in his eye throws off your train of thought as you struggle to form an answer with some semblance of clarity.

You tell him you're in your late twenties, trying to balance college and work while living with your dad in hopes of getting your own place when you graduate. He nods solemnly and seriously as you describe your dreams and ambitions for the future, occasionally validating you with a gentle hum or a "go on," with the ghost of a smile on his lips as he listens intently, none of the other topics of the evening seized his attention quite so strongly as you are now.

Your dad seems to accept defeat at his failure to reclaim the conversation and shifts all his attention to the food in front of him, stuffing his face as you converse with Peter. You find your cheeks start to hurt towards the end of dinner from all the smiles he's drawing out of you with his questions and his silly quips that you can't help but beam at, even if they would sound atrocious coming from anyone else.

Somehow, this new friend of your dad's fell out of the handsome tree and managed to knock every single branch on his way down of things you found yourself wildly attracted to, the wine in your glass pushing you closer to him by the time dinner ended.

At your dad's suggestion, you played a few rounds of a card game called Thirty-One, the smirk on Peter's face widening even more in silent admiration as you won hand after hand. A smile breaking across your lips when Peter let out an exasperated laugh at your knocking for a close 30 right after he just got done dealing. He touched your hand, his soft fingertips lingering on your knuckles as he joked with your dad that you had to have sabotaged the deck when he wasn't looking as your dad threw his cards on the table with a shake of his head and a loud yawn at his pitiful 15 and Peter's sad 23.

You watched Peter as he skillfully shuffled and stacked the cards away into a neat pile. Those long, gentle fingers of his expertly bending and handling the cards, making them all fall perfectly in a flawless cascade against his palms, your heart nearly coming to a dead stop in your chest when you feel the top of his knee momentarily press against yours underneath the table.

Soon after dessert and one or two more red wine glasses, your dad is waddling towards his room down the hall scratching his back, teasing you two not to stay up too late and telling Peter he's welcome to whatever leftovers he wants in the fridge and the guest bedroom next to his in case he's unable to drive. You nod and mutter goodnight, the air flooded with awkward tension as his door clicks softly behind him.

You shyly stand up, and tell Peter you should probably do the dishes, to which Peter offers to help. You shake your head but he doesn't take no for an answer, the dimple in his smile growing as he rolls up his sleeves over his forearms, striding towards the kitchen before you can utter one more word in protest. Soon, you're rinsing the dishes as he scrubs, he'll pause every so often and turn down the volume of the water coming from the sink so he can hear you a little better, modest whiffs of his cologne coming from his neck that make you a little weak in the knees as he seems to get closer and closer to you on your side of the sink, an entire colony of butterflies soaring in your tummy every time his hand brushes against yours as he hands you a new dish.

You humbly suggest a movie afterwards before you call it a night as you take turns drying your hands on the dish rag. He smiles and follows you to the couch, sitting next to you. You feel your face heat up and you try to find something to watch, making a busy, quiet clicking noise with your teeth to fill the gaps of silence between you two.

You know you're not at the point that you can just turn on one of your cheesy chick flicks with him, so, you randomly suggest a scary movie, knowing damn well that you're a huge chicken when it came to watching them.

The corner of Peter's mouth twitches a little. Scary movies, the oldest trick in the book. Neither of you were born yesterday. A guy and a girl with obvious tension between the two of them, sitting late at night on a couch all alone, with a scary movie playing that would inevitably make the space between them very, very thin. You know it, and he knows it, but he nods his head.

"You sure you wanna watch a scary one?"

You shrug innocently, and respond in an overly optimistic manner. "Yeah, I mean, they're not too bad. I might need to close my eyes for certain parts but I can handle it."

Peter smirks. "Okay...if you say so."

You select the movie, and as the screen loads, Peter says to you in a lower tone, "You know, at any point in time, you can pause it and put on something else."

You shake your head. "Nahhh. I'll be fine," shooting him an overconfident smile.

A few jump scares in, the blanket on your lap is tickling the bottom of your nose as you hold it to your face, occasionally bringing it up over your forehead with a few small whimpers.

Peter's doing his best to play it cool as well, but he finds himself also jumping at some of the more intense scenes, mostly because of how reactive you are, your elbow occasionally bumping his, making him shudder in alarm at parts that weren't even that scary, your nervous energy feeding onto him.

At one point, it's obvious that another big scare is coming up as the main character starts to walk down a dark hall, the unsettling hum of the chilling music blasting from the speakers, both of you holding your breath.

You look to your left and Peter looks to his right, your faces meeting in the middle. You both giggle as you look at each other, neither of you brave enough to turn your attention back to the screen.

"What's happening?" you whisper playfully to him.

He chuckles and whispers back, "I don't know."

"Just look and tell me if that one scary guy is about to come on."

Peter smiles and shakes his head, "No, you do it."

"Peter! For fuck's sake, pleaseee..." you hiss giving him a playful nudge with your elbow.

Peter sighs and slowly turns back towards the screen, then he pauses the movie. Your head is still turned to him, your cheek pressed against the back of the couch in an effort to hide your gaze from whatever spooky image is on screen.

"You can look, there's nothing there, I paused it." Peter whispers.

You turn, and bam, the demon's face is frozen perfectly in a menacing look, taking up the entire frame. You let out a little scream and immediately clap your hands to your mouth as Peter cracks up. You reach out and smack him, both of your hands alternating as Peter playfully tries to weakly defend himself with his own.

"You...bastard! I'm gonna kill you Peter!" You say through clenched teeth, throwing a spare pillow into his chest.

Peter catches one of your hands and the smile fades from both of your faces as you feel your hands fully touch for the first time. His palm gently smooths over yours, interlacing his fingers.

You feel your stomach flutter, and his does the same. He pulls you a little closer and he smirks down at you when you fall against his chest.

"Hi...", he whispers, his eyes getting lost in yours.

"Hey..." you answer softly. You're about to dive headfirst into those sweet brown eyes when you realize:

Shit-your dad.

Your heart hammers in your chest a little as you turn your head quickly to the side, sitting up and peering over the couch to see any signs of activity coming from his bedroom down the hall.

"Shit...he might have woken up." You murmur.

"Nah...I don't hear anything." Peter cranes his neck as well, his chin lightly brushing the top of your head as he pulls you even closer so his arm is around you on the back of the couch.

"I could've sworn I heard something," you murmur. Your heart rate has sped up tremendously, you can feel him right there, on the side of your face. If you turn and look at him, it's over.

Peter smiles softly, his eyes on you while you're still focused on the back of the hall. The top of his pointer finger gently grazes the outline of your jaw, pausing just on the corner of your chin. He presses it a little harder, gently guiding your gaze to look at him.

You feel your cheeks utterly burn as you face him fully, hyper aware of the minimal distance between your noses. Your breath catches in your throat as you see his eyelids droop, and then eventually close as he leans in to kiss you.

You wet your lips, leaning in as well, then finally meet his in a soft, delicate first kiss. Peter gently draws in air through his nose, releasing the breath in the form of a soft moan into your mouth as he moves his lips again, this time perfectly sandwiching them between his. Your lashes flutter at the tantalizing sensation as you allow your lips to dance with his, your stomach practically flying away when you feel his free hand gently press against the side of your neck.

He scoops you in closer with his arm that was laying on the back of the sofa, then bringing it to cup your face also. He holds your face tenderly in his hands, smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks as he makes out with you on the sofa, his tongue gently gliding over your lips, coating them in the wet warmness of his mouth.

The sweetness of the tomatoes, and the dark red wine laced on his tongue bring you even closer, the heat between your bodies almost becoming too much for your respective places from where you sit, begging to be transferred onto the other's skin.

Peter pulls you into his lap and you take it a step further, straddling him with one leg on either side of his lap, your hands tangling themselves in his sandy brown hair, weaving between those light grey streaks with a soft, high pitched moan.

"Fuck..." Peter groans at your noises. He gently turns your head to the side for better access and his lips start attacking your neck. Soft and messy, he blazes a trail of wetness all along your collarbone, his fingers gently tugging at the neckline of your sweater. You indulge him and slip it off, leaving him breathless as you sit there straddling his lap in your bra. "Look at you..."

You bite your lip with a smile and lean back, freeing your breasts, allowing the soft globes to spill out from over the top of the cups.

Peter lets out a breathy moan at the sight, "Beautiful...mmm..." and leans forward, eagerly locking his lips around your left breast, while gently rolling the nipple of your right. You moan and slowly tilt your head back, your breaths shaky as you let Peter enjoy your body, feeling the soft, wet pad of his tongue swiftly swirl around your nipple, leaving the bud nice and perky as his lips suck and release it with a tiny plop. The chilly air around it makes goosebumps appear all across your chest, and Peter switches sides, taking your right breast in his mouth. He lets his tongue trace circle after circle around the delicate areola, moaning at the taste of your skin, making you suck in air between your teeth as he hollows his cheeks, beginning to lightly suck your breast as though he were trying to make you cum from the motion alone.

Your breaths are growing higher and higher in pitch. Your brow furrows as your mind is ripped between two directions of trying to relax and focus on all the pleasure he's giving you while controlling the volume of your moans.

Your lips fall open as you feel Peter gently start rolling his hips underneath you, the fabric of his pants straining against his raging erection. You start humping your pussy against him, and he closes his eyes, letting out a deep sigh as he moans your name.

"Yeah, Peter....?" you answer breathlessly as you gently roll your hips in a circle.

Peter can barely speak at this point, his mouth wide open as he leans back, his hands rubbing your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze before they snake behind your back, unclasping your bra.

"Shit..." He breaths out as he sets your breasts free with a little bounce and your entire upper torso is now exposed to him. He tosses your bra onto the couch next to him, biting his lip as his hands run and caress all over every square inch of your body. "How're you so perfect...come closer, beautiful..."

You gasp a little as you feel his hand grab you around the back of your neck, forcing your lips a little more intensely against his this time. You moan, sucking and biting his lip, not minding the bit of stubble from his face pricking your cheeks, allowing your soft giggles to escape into his mouth.

"Mmm....what's so funny, cutie?" Peter smirks his lips against yours, one of his hands tugging at your leggings. Your breathing speeds up, a sharp, high pitched moan leaving your lips when you feel his hand cup your clothed pussy.

Peter smiles devilishly, biting his lip as well as he holds you in his hand, his hand gently pulsing and applying more pressure against your throbbing cunt. "This feels good?"

"Peter..."

"What, baby?" He teases, cocking his head a little at you, the heel of his palm pressing against your clothed clit.

"I need you...fuck, I need you.." you whine.

"Need me how, baby?" He whispers, this time pressing a wet, loving kiss to your lips. "Hmmm, baby... tell me?"

"I...w-want you to fuck me..."

Peter gives a low groan, continuing to fondle your pussy outside of your clothes, driving you mad.

"Yeah, pretty girl...?"

"Yes Peter....please baby...?"

Peter lets out a little chuckle and presses a soft kiss to your lips. "I will, sweetheart...just be patient for me." He shifts underneath you, pulling you off his lap. You catch your breath, panting as you watch him pull up a couch pillow and prop it behind you.

Peter catches the back of your head with his hand, leaning in to press another kiss to your lips as he gently lays you backwards, your hair spread out on the pillow, groaning at the sight of the beautiful half naked goddess laid out for him.

"You're absolutely perfect..."

You bite your lip and reach up, one of your fingers teasing the buttons of his shirt. "Your turn to show me..."

His cheeks burn pink but he flashes you a little smile as he unbuttons it completely and lets the flaps fall away from his body, giving you a delicious view of his chest and stomach, the dark brown hair decorating his pecks and the lean muscle underneath, from the slightest pudge of his belly at the bottom, making your mouth water. His shoulder muscles ripple faintly as he removes his shirt altogether and sets it to the side, returning to running his hands up and down your thighs.

Those big beautiful brown eyes stay locked with yours as he presses a kiss to your sternum. You giggle and tangle a hand in his hair as he moves down your tummy, the low tones of his voice vibrating against your body, and traveling straight to your pussy.

He kisses your stomach one more time and gently hooks his fingers underneath your panties and leggings. You lift your hips for him in silent obedience, your lips falling open as you watch his face utterly burn with lust as he pulls them off of you.

Peter lets out a low groan, licking his lips as he lets his eyes roam all over your naked body. Those brown eyes find yours again, taking note of your labored breaths. He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, his thumb smoothing along the shape of your bottom lip. "You doing okay, beautiful?" He asks in a low tone, slightly rubbing his nose against yours.

You nod slowly, your face burning. "It's just, Peter I-"

"Yes, sweetheart?" His eyes search you with concern, the gray five o'clock shadow of his face highlighted in the soft yellow glow coming from the lone reading lamp on the other side of the room by the TV. He's unbelievably handsome, this caring man who was only a stranger hours ago, looking at you as though his gaze alone could somehow convey the degree of worship he felt you deserved, somehow managing to show greater care and tenderness to your body than any other man you dealt with before. You'd let him do this every day if it meant you'd never get used to this intoxicating feeling.

"I've never um..."

"Mhmm?"

"I've never had a..."

"You're a virgin?" He asks softly, stroking your cheek.

"No I mean, I've just never finished before..."

"You haven't had an orgasm before...?" he asks you quietly. You nod in shy affirmation, a new heat wave making itself apparent underneath your cheeks.

Peter nods in quiet understanding, the backs of his knuckles stroking your face in silent reassurance. He leans in, kissing you once more. You hum into the kiss, and you feel his soft tongue prodding the tip of your lips again. You feel another shot of arousal wet itself between your thighs as his tongue pushes into your mouth, bringing the kiss to that deep state of passion from before. You start making out with him again, the grip on his hair tightening as you feel him gently lower his body weight onto you.

He eventually pulls away, leaving a fresh trail of kisses down your neck, pausing once more to suckle on your perky tits, leaving your nipples hard and pointy in his wake. He worships your tummy, licking a stripe down the plush middle, pausing at the top of your sex where he draws a circle with his tongue, causing you to buck your hips.

"I could be your first..." He murmurs, inhaling deeply, his fingers curling around your hips as he looks up at you with his deep brown eyes. "I'll make you cum tonight..."

You let out a soft whine, stroking his cheek and he leans affectionately into your touch. "Peter..."

"Do you want that baby...hmmm?" He comes up closer to your face, caging your body underneath him as he looks lovingly down into your eyes. "Tell me you want it sweetheart, and I'll do that for you tonight."

He purrs, leaning down to pepper more messy kisses to your neck, leading you to whimper. "I want it...I want you, Peter..."

"Want me to what, pretty girl?" He murmurs from your neck. "I need to be sure you're okay with it, darling. Tell me what you want me to do to you tonight..."

"Make me cum..."

Peter's face gets hot. He brings his face from your neck, looking at you as he starts to slide down your body towards your pussy. "Okay, sweetheart...you got it."

He gives you another devilish smile as he locks his arms around your thighs, "It's okay, baby..." He presses a kiss to your clit, making you shudder with anticipation. "We don't wanna wake up your dad, remember?"

You nod, your fingers coming down to tangle themselves in his mop of sandy brown hair once again. "Peter..."

"I've got you, baby...I'll go nice and slow..."

Your back arches and your pretty lips fall open when you feel Peter's thick tongue massage the folds of your pussy. You feel him let out a low groan, his soft murmurs being swallowed up by the plushness of your thighs around his head.

He humps his aching cock against the sofa as he continues to eat your pussy, his tongue gliding up and down your lips for several more moments before he dips inside, exploring the velvet of your walls as he lets his tongue indulge, steadily fucking you, working his tongue in a steady rhythm as he prods it in and out of your weeping cunt. Your hands come to play with your tits for more stimulation, one of his hands coming up to join yours as he rolls your tender nipple between his fingers.

Never in your life did you think sex could feel this fucking good, the way he's so gloriously eating you out, not caring and groaning at the very sight of you, swallowing every drop of your pussy like it's water and he's a parched man in the desert, plunging his face into that sweet oasis between your thighs. You whimper and move your hips up and down in tandem with his tongue. He greedily digs his nails into the backs of your thighs and ass, shoving your pussy against his face as he buries himself nose deep.

"Mmm.... you're driving me crazy, sweetheart...might have to eat you all night."

Peter pulls away, he can feel himself about to cum in his pants. He lays back on the couch and takes you by the hand, guiding your dripping pussy over his equally glistening face, brown eyes blown wide with lust as he pulls you closer.

You bite your lip at the sexy sight of your arousal smeared all over his gorgeous face, lowering yourself onto him slowly, moaning when you feel his tongue moving inside you again, his hands seizing your hips, slamming you down onto his nose.

"That's better..." Peter groans and continues dining on your pussy, his hips humping the air, his fingers becoming more gentle as they press into your hips, rocking you on his tongue. Your mouth waters at the outline of his cock and you reach forward, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants, taking his hard cock out from his boxers, your eyes fluttering at its generous length and slightly pink tip, brimming with precum.

Peter chuckles from underneath you, "Mmmm, haha....baby, what are you-ah!"

He groans and lets his head flop back onto the pillow with his eyes shut when he feels you take him in your mouth, the slick inside of your cheeks caressing the length of his cock as you take him as deep as you can. He holds his breath, only releasing a long groan of pleasure as you begin bobbing your head, softly using your mouth as a fleshlight as you passionately suck him off.

"Baby....ah, baby....fuck..."

He groans loudly.

"Shh..." you coo sweetly, pressing sloppy kisses onto his sensitive tip. "Don't wanna wake him up, remember."

"Mmmnnhhh....." Peter groans loudly again, thrusting his cock a little deeper in your mouth. "Baby...you're perfect." He bites his lip, letting himself ride the wave of pleasure you're sending all throughout his body for another lengthy moment before he starts softly licking, then pushing his tongue back inside the soft plush of your pussy.

The room is a quiet, sloppy mess with gentle moans and playful shushes bouncing off the walls as you pleasure each other in the 69 position. This is by far the filthiest thing you've ever done. Fucking this sweet man who was older than you but treated you and ate you like a goddess. This tall, lean rugged man with a kind voice and big brown eyes. Your dad's friend, a stranger, letting the beautiful daughter of his new friend suck his cock in his living room while the house was asleep.

You clench your teeth, pausing from sucking Peter's cock as you feel yourself inching towards an unfamiliar, tingly feeling building on itself deep in your body.

The feeling is better than just good. It's surpassed good at this point. It's absolutely euphoric. The way this man is making you ride his face and wiggling his tongue against every spot inside of you that sets your core on fire.

"I'm gonna cum, Peter..."

A switch goes off in his brain and you feel him amp up the flicker of his tongue, this time directly over your tender clit, you clench and seize involuntarily but to no avail as his arms lock you over his face.

"Peter...Peter please..." You moans turn to pathetic to pleas but they fall on deaf ears. Peter continues drowning in your pussy, his wet tongue pressed against your clit, pressing and pulsing, prodding you closer to the edge you've never met, that sweet peak of ecstasy you've only heard and read about.

"Cum for me beautiful...all over my face..."

The blissful end Peter is bringing lovingly, rapidly to your whole body, a smug smile on his face as he watches your desperate reaction, fighting against every natural urge in your body to scream as you come undone. Peter closes his eyes with a loud groan as you cum all over his face, littering tiny kisses all over your thighs as he sucks each droplet onto his tongue.

---

Peter's cleaning himself up with a spare towel you fetched from the hall closet, not minding the simmering ache in his cock with all his bottled up cum, giving you that rugged, dimpled smile as you plant a soft kiss on his cheek in affectionate gratitude, his button down shirt now hanging off your body in a simple display of aftercare.

It would have to do for now. Had this little encounter occured at his place, he'd already have you in a warm bath, only to likely give in to his quieted inhibitions before he fucked you once more, your breathy squeals reverberating against his bathroom tile.

A soft thump from down the hall sends you both reeling, you become a basketball star on the spot as you aim and hurtle the cum rag through the air, launching it into your open bedroom door and onto your darkened bed, yanking the large blanket over both of you on the couch, gulping when you hear your dad's muffled footsteps getting increasingly louder, then tapering off as they disappear inside the bathroom with a noisy grunt.

Peter's hand finds yours underneath the blanket. The sheer comfort of his soft palm sending waves of warmth up your arm and across your chest. Peter looks over the edge of the couch to find your dad disappearing inside his room with a quiet latch of his door, pulling you against his chest once more, weaving little kisses into your hair.

"That was a close one..." you murmur, nuzzling a little closer against his bare chest.

He chuckles quietly. "Can't let him know I'm completely crazy about his pretty daughter..."

You giggle and bring his fingers to your lips, a quiet spark in his chest that threatens to fan into an uncontrolled burn once again as you softly kiss his fingertips, his lips gently parting as he purrs contentedly under your touch.

"You never fucked me like you said you would."

Peter smiles, biting his lip as he teases one of his fingers into your mouth. "I didn't, did I..."

You hum, swirling your tongue around his finger just like you were doing to his cock. Peter groans at the erotic memory.

"How about I take you on a real date first..."

"Really?" You smile, which he can't help but blush too at your excitement.

"Yes, really. As much as I'd like to go to your room and take you right now, I want our first time together to be special."

He gently toys with your lips, not removing his eyes from them in an intimate stare. "I'd want to have all the time in the world with you. No interruptions...no sneaky dads down the hallway..." He teases, to which your cheeks burn as you look away.

"Just all night with you and me, sweetheart. But only after I buy you whatever food your heart desires. Sounds good?"

Your smile nearly breaks your cheeks as you melt at his romantic proposition. "Sounds perfect to me," you answer softly.

"Good..." He flashes a dazzling smile back at you, cradling your face in his hands.

The heat from his skin pressed against your bare cheek deliberately makes your mind go fuzzy, your eyes seized by a delayed wave of tiredness as your body realizes the late hour.

Peter senses it too, doing his best to lay you back on the couch so you can sleep undisturbed but you pull him closer,

"Just a little longer, Peter?"

"Haha...awh, baby. If you say so. Just a little longer."

He hugs you close against his chest, your face tucked into the crook of his neck, fighting off sleep just a bit more so he can cuddle his new beautiful girlfriend while her dad stayed clueless in dreamland down the hall, trying to figure out what flowers he'd present you with at dinner, maybe a little bracelet or locket to go with it to mark you as his.

He sighs and strokes your shoulder but doesn't dare to close his eyes as he bids you quiet goodnight with a kiss on your sleeping lips, stealing a spare t-shirt from your dad from the laundry basket and his suit jacket off the coat rack on the way out. His white button down with his scent enveloping you in restful sleep on the couch.

----

@huniedeux @mrsoharaa @reverieblondie @slushycoookie @monarchberrysblog @gltzpzy I know you wanna read it Alicia lol 😁🤭

#atsv peter b parker #peter b parker smut #peter b parker #peter b parker x reader #peter b parker x fem!reader #peter b. parker #peter b. parker x reader #peter b parker imagine #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter b parker x you #peter b parker atsv #peter b. parker smut #spiderman smut #Spotify #atsv smut

[rightshoeonleftfoot]

From Afar

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x afab! reader

Summary: You had a bad day and you're head over heels for a Lieutenant that's not even yours. He never even seems to look at you, let alone speak to you. Little do you know, he's been watching you.

Warnings: Stalking (innocent stalking hehe), mutual pining, possessive! Simon Riley, power imbalance.

Words: 1.7k

Part 1 - Part 2

This is not proofread so I'm sorry for any mistakes!! Constructive criticism is 100% welcome :)

I wanna make this a series eventually so let me know if you're interested! I wrote this at work lol

Average. That's what you were. An average soldier. You weren't even a bad soldier, you just weren't outstanding. You simply didn't stand out even though you desperately wanted to. You wanted to stand out to him. To the one man you'd been longing for ever since you saw him walk past you in the hallway when you were on your way to training.

A tall, broad man whose gaze would scare anyone away. He seemed cold, distant, someone you could never get along with. A man with many secrets, someone who wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice his life for his Taskforce. Lieutenant Riley. He never formally introduced himself but you'd heard. You'd heard all the rumours and chatter that surrounded him and you almost felt guilty.

He'd lead training every once in a while, when your superiors were away on important missions. You'd always do your damn best during those times, you wanted his attention, you wanted his praise. Yet, he'd never even so much as glance at you. It left you empty, disappointed and jealous. Jealous of your superior, Sergeant Davidson who'd openly flirt with him in front of everyone, especially in front of you. It's like she had something against you specifically, she'd often make you drop and give her 20 if you did anything that displeased her.

Today had been a shitty day. You'd slept through your alarm and ended up late to an early training session. Your Sergeant made an example out of you, making you run laps and do extra push ups. You were tired and hungry as you'd also missed breakfast, your stomach growling loudly as you were exercising. She had no pity, it was your fault after all. "You shouldn't have been late." She told you. "Don't fuck with the rules." She berated you as you held a plank. She had her foot on your back, occasionally adding weight on you to make you shake and give in to the weight she'd put on you. It was a humiliating morning to say the least, yet your day somehow got worse.

He hated the way she treated you. He hated the way your Sergeant got a power trip every time you did the smallest thing wrong. He wanted to rip her off you, tell her off for treating a Private like an animal. He wasn't supposed to feel anything for you. Hell, he had never even spoken to you once. He would just chalk it up to him being tired and not sleeping through the night. Yet, he couldn't stop himself from looking at you.

At lunch, you were starving and the mess hall was full. Not having eaten since 8 am and you were in desperate need for food. You'd finally picked up your tray and the food looked mediocre at best but you were too hungry to care. You were looking for a place to sit but the mess hall was packed. You skillfully navigated through the crowd of famished soldiers until you found a place. You quickly walked over to it, but it seemed someone had had the same idea as you. In a loud crash, your food fell to the floor, face first because of course it did. Your stomach growled once more as you looked down at the splattered food on the floor. The soldier who had bumped into you quickly apologized, his food untouched apart from the splatter of sauce that had ended on your uniform. Instead of helping you, he bolted off to eat. As you cleaned up your food, you knew your lunch would consist of nothing but vending machine snacks.

He watched. He saw you get bumped into by the careless little soldier. He saw you mutter and swear as you looked down at your food on the floor, completely defeated. "Fuck me, fuck this stupid fucking day." You'd mutter. He saw the way you quietly stared down at your food before picking up the dirty dishes and cleaning up the mess you'd made. He saw the way the soldier left you to your own devices and wanted so badly to berate him for not helping you. But he couldn't. So he watched.

You had a bit of free time after eating your snacks so you went to get changed and take the shower you didn't have time to take. You picked up your clean uniform and headed off to the communal showers, getting ready to wash off the food and sweat off you from this morning. You stripped and eagerly got in the shower. A sudden gasp came out of you. The water was cold. Very fucking cold. It wouldn't warm up even as you waited, your hand in the water. So you took a quick, cold shower.

The shower had left you tense and unsatisfied. A fitting continuation for your awful day. Next came hand to hand combat training. This was led by Ghost, so it lifted your spirits up a little. You walked into the gym early, not wanting to repeat this morning's mistake. Ghost was already there and you saluted him. In what felt like the first time since you'd met, he spared a glance at you. His gaze was cold, his brown eyes felt like they were staring in your soul. It seemed like he was studying you as the glance turned into more of a look, his eyes wandering ever so slightly to your face before he spoke.

"At ease." His voice was deep, deeper than you'd remembered. You felt happy. He had addressed you. It was almost cathartic, hearing him speak directly to you. You almost wantwd him to say more but to your disappointment, he looked away from you and resumed his conversation with your Sergeant. She was laughing and smiling, clearly flirting with him but he wasn't paying her any mind. You found yourself a partner and surprisingly enough, training went without much of a hitch. Both Ghost and Sergeant Davidson were watching over and your Sergeant was being much nicer with Ghost watching over her shoulder.

That was until the Sergeant used you as an example. Ghost looked at her disapprovingly but you didn't notice. She'd tell you to defend yourself but every time would take you down with ease. It left you humiliated and defeated. She finally got off you, clearly proud of herself for whatever reason. Your sparring partner helped you up and muttered something. "That fuckin' bitch." You were happy someone was on your side yet you felt disappointed. Ghost had just stood there, watching. He didn't do anything.

He saw, his mind in turmoil. On one hand, he could stop your Sergeant from taking you down more and cut the training short. On the other hand, he could let her keep going. She was showing a good technique but she wouldn't even give you the chance to try it on her. So he just stood there, conflicted. He wasn't doing anything.

You left training as soon as you could. You were beyond pissed and annoyed at today. You rushed to the mess hall to eat something and for once, everything was going well. You were approached by a soldier. A poor little soldier who was just as oblivious of Ghost as you were. He flirted with you and made you laugh. It was the first time today you'd felt truly at ease. He was making you laugh and over all, the conversation was just nice. You ended up shutting the conversation down early but sharing your contact information with him, a new friend couldn't hurt after all.

Your laugh. Your fucking laugh. Music to Ghost's ears. Music he never even thought he'd like, a soft melody that soothed whatever emotion he was feeling at the time. But that laugh wasn't for him. It was for this other private, this bastard, who dared to approach you while you were eating. He continued watching as you gave the man your contact information and he seethed. He didn't want to be jealous, but he was. He watched you leave to go to the shooting range for your nightly routine and as soon as you were out of sight, he walked to the soldier. The soldier froze when he saw Ghost. Ghost put his hand out, gesturing for the soldier to hand over what you'd given him. The soldier obliged and handed him the paper and Ghost proceeded to chew him out. He was ashamed of what he was doing and couldn't believe he felt the need to chew out an irrelevant soldier for hitting on you. He'd let his jealousy get the better of him.

The range was empty at this hour. Well, not fully but enough for the gun shots to be few and far between, startling you every time one went off. Going to the range after dinner was a part of your routine. There was a sort of pleasure in shooting targets to let loose of your emotions, it was therapeutic. The recoil of the gun as it went off in your hands, whether it was a p226 or an M4A4. You'd shoot for a while, never really looked at the time. But you'd often shoot until you felt the recoil of the gun in your hand without shooting, a familiar feeling.

Then came the cleaning. Cleaning your guns was your favourite part. It was slow and required patience, something you enjoyed. You'd take apart your guns with great care, feeling every nook and cranny as you did so. You'd clean them, taking the time to remove the dirt and grease which had lodged itself in all the cracks and crevices of the pistol. You liked it when they looked brand new. You'd connect your headphones to your phone and would listen to music, wanting to relax and take the edge off as you did a task most thought was tedious. Putting the guns back together was like a puzzle. A puzzle you'd done so much you could do it with your eyes closed. The way everything fit together perfectly, the way each piece clicked together with a soft, metallic sound. It was like a lullaby, soothing you to sleep. A welcome sound as it meant you'd go to bed soon.

Your ritual was over and you felt weary, your eyes closing on their own. With that, your day ended. In your shitty little barrack bed, still oblivious to your shadow. You fell asleep weirdly content with the day you had. Your alarm was set and you were confident you'd be ready for whatever awaited you tomorrow.

The range was big. Lots of places to hide, lots of places to watch. He followed you, his footsteps quiet, completely unheard by you. He enjoyed watching you shoot. It had become his routine as well. He'd watch you, correct your stance in his head without ever approaching you, then he'd watch you clean your guns. It calmed him. It soothed his mind and made him strangely happy to see someone who took such great care in cleaning their guns. He always wondered what you listened to. What had your foot tapping the beat, what had you softly smile when you cranked up the volume. He'd figure it out one day, just not tonight.

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

[givemeonereason]

My Blue-Eyed Master: Part 1

Part 2

Photo credit: here

Rating: 14+ (I know that this will gradually have more mature content in further parts.)

Plot: A handsome new customer comes to the cafe. What could go wrong?

A/n: This is the introductory piece to a short series I'm hoping to work on.

I was greatly inspired by watching "Maidsama" recently and loved it.

I was thinking, we all know Gojo would be living it up in a maid cafe. Lots of sweets, lots of women to fawn over him. Seems like the right place for him to be right?

While listening to this.

╒══════════════════════╕

Bells chimed when the entrance door opened.

A tall, well-dressed, white-haired man stood by the door wiping the rainwater off his shoes on the 'welcome' rug.

"Good afternoon, Master!" Three women in maid cosplay called out to him sweetly. Each of them walked up towards him to vying for his attention.

"Good afternoon." His smile was bright. He looked at them over the top of his dark black sunglasses. His bright blue eyes almost making one of the girls faint.

The girl who almost passed out, proved to be uneasy and weak in her knees. Being held up by the other two. You stepped in, not so easily swayed by his masculine wiles.

Your tone was not as nearly as high-pitched and cheery as the other girls. "Right this way Master." You didn't even look over your shoulder at him as you walked towards a table at the far end of the room. You set down a menu. "Please make yourself at home." And you walked away without bothering to pay him any mind.

"Oh my god, he's so handsome."

"I wonder if he's single."

"It's as if the gods sent us an angel."

You stood near the back preparing a teapot for another table. The roll of your eyes almost gave you vertigo.

"Ladies!" The matron of the cafe warned. "Please keep your voices down."

The girls who were huddled at the prep counter grew quiet. Only two of them were whispering amongst themselves about the mystery new client.

June, the co-owner of the cafe continued, "There are rules we place to protect you girls. Please make sure you follow them as well." She looked over at the man they were all gushing about. "No matter, how handsome or how charming, you never truly know what a person is capable of." She looked back toward you and the girls. "I've been in this business for some time and have seen my fair share of things to shock me." You have always loved how sweet and protective June was. She became like a loving aunt that you never had.

You've been working at Cafe Sakura for five years. You took the job as a part-time gig while you were in college. Low profile enough to not run into anyone you knew. But it served another purpose, which provided a confidence boost for you. Growing up you were never really seen as conventionally beautiful and you were picked on by the popular girls at the time. So being able to work in a place like this worked wonders on rewriting those negative inner monologues.

People were very kind to you while you've been working there. The regulars are respectful. Sure, there are some douchbags who are there especially to live out demented wet fantasies. But overall, it's a great place to work, and why you've been there for so long.

You dropped off the tea pot to a nearby table sharing pleasantries before you stopped back at that man's table with a glass of water. You were staring down at your small notepad, the fairy charm hanging from your pen jingling as you jotted down the table number. "What can I get for you, Master?"

He didn't answer at first, he was looking at you, waiting for you to look at him. Unfortunately for him, you only sidestepped near him, looking and pointing down at the menu. "If you're unsure about what to get for a first-timer, I suggest a slice of cheesecake." You grabbed the menu from his hands and flipped it over. "Any of these sauces or combinations can be used."

Still, he remained quiet, looking at you taking in your features. His eyes darting across your face, to the end of your hair, to the buttons on your near your collar, to your fingers wrapped around your pen. It was in the shape of a lobster claw. He started to chuckle. He lifted his hand to his lips to try and conceal his laughter.

"What?" You were so annoyed with this guy. It kept getting worse and more worse.

"So I take it you like seafood?" An eyebrow raised, he's looking between you and the red pen in your hand. His bright blue eyes showed over top the rim of his rounded glasses.

When you caught his eyes, you looked back down at your notepad. "Where would you get an idea like that?"

His hand so gently bent over, his finger pointing towards the claw.

Your eyes are furrowed. What is he up to, god almighty! You look down at your uniform checking for something that would give any indication of your meal preferences. That's when he stood up and walked towards you. He towered over you. He's taller than most men who frequent here.

The other ladies were gasping and cursing you under their breath. How they wish they could be you in that very moment. Close enough to taste his cologne....You rolled your eyes. They wouldn't mind tasting it. However, you, on the other hand, have had enough of his charade.

He took his glasses off with the swagger of man who can afford to buy several new pairs. Seeing his blue eyes in full view was so striking. Maybe you can use those glasses to shield yourself from the glare.

"I'm talking about your pen." He reached out and plucked it from your fingertips. He pulled it up and inspected it, giving it a solid click for good measure. "I just assumed one would be a seafood fan if they so blatantly paraded around with such a token."

Innermost sighhhhhhhh.

You snatched the pen from his hand. "I would appreciate it if you did not touch my things, sir. There are rules in place at this establishment and if you cannot follow them, I will have to ask you to leave."

All of your coworkers raced towards you. The girls fawn over the man, the matron pulling you by your elbow towards the back. "Y/n, what have I told you about talking to the customers like that?"

You cross your arms across your chest. "You're the one who created the rules. Some of them are strictly unspoken rules. He shouldn't have done that."

June closed her eyes. "He shouldn't have done that. And I don't take very well to anyone intimating my girls."

"...I wouldn't call that intimidating..." You added before she continued.

"If he would have put his hands on you I would have definitely thrown him out." She turned to you. "Focus on other patrons. I will have one of the other girls take care of him. If we're lucky, he might never come back."

A blessing, I'm sure.

You walked out from the back room and reached down into the front pocket of your maid cosplay. The lobster claw pen was buried down in there, but you pulled out a generic pen with a local business's address and phone number on it.

You could hear the girls giggling when they talked to that guy. His sultry voice charmed them as they served his cheesecake you so obviously suggested to him. Their breathy attempts at "master" were followed by him with a sweet "miss" and a wink.

It's disgusting how men prey on innocent girls. Good-looking, charming men are the worst of the worst.

A few of your afternoon regulars showed up and made the day redeemable. It's not always a bad day. There isn't always a bad customer. It's rare in the time you've been there. It does happen.

You thought on it, that guy wasn't that terrible. It was just you hated how forward people were sometimes. You work at a cosplay cafe, it should be expected. Men come here to live out their own fantasies. Women enjoy these experiences as well. It's just that you're more likely to run into a pervert than anything.

He just grabbed your pen is all. And he can't help that he's tall...and handsome. He was born that way, right?

Nonetheless, you might never see him again.

Possibly for the best.

Besides, you really do like that pen. It was the last gift your grandfather gave to you before he passed away. Silly as it is, it was a gag gift, but it's special to you. It's a way for you to think of him. Both your grandfather and you are just a little bit crabby. Ha!

.....to hell with that guy.

Damn it all.

Damn his beautiful eyes, damn his sexy voice, damn his gorgeous hair, damn his charisma, damn the way his clothes hug his body.

damn. that. man.

╘══════════════════════╛

© 2024 givemeonereason

Don’t steal other people’s works! Respect creators!

Reblogs and likes appreciated :)

#gojo satoru #Satoru gojo #Gojo Satoru and you #Satoru gojo and you #gojo saturo x reader #saturo gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo and you #JJK #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

[starb3rrys]

i would like a scenario with tecchou when he’s tired and ends up crying with his s/o comforting him please ㅠㅠ

Angst with comfort. My beloved subject, Interesting request, usually its the other way around ~(>_<~)

Nonetheless, I love the switched roles <3

☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆

Tired Nights

Tecchou x Reader

Slight angst, Fluff/Comfort

Scenario: The pressure is on for the hunting dogs to find and capture potential terrorist in Yokohama, with the public breathing down the hunting dogs neck, Tecchou was bound to crack due to the pressure…

☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆

It’s around 2:34 am, You were laying on the living room couch of your apartment watching some random show to keep yourself awake as you wait for your boyfriend Tecchou to come home, recently you noticed he had been working long hours and would come home around 2-4am, you found this behavior strange but you brushed it off as part of his job as a hunting dog and even if you asked him, you doubt he would tell you the full reason he’s coming home late since his job details are confidential (government shit ~(>_<~)).

After a while, you hear keys jiggling and the front door open, soft slow footsteps approach you, as you look up you see a familiar tall figure wearing a long red cape, Tetcchou is home!.

“Hey Tecchou, how was work?”, you ask with a slight tired tone as you got up off the couch to greet him with your usual hug and kiss.

“It was fine…could you make me some tea?...”, Tecchou said in a rather low exhausted tone.

“Of course, want me to add some hot sauce in it?” You joke with a small smile.

“No, just normal chamomile tea, is fine...” he said, it was obvious he was tired; his shoulder’s hanged low as he placed his hat on the coffee table and sat on the couch, he rubbed his eyes with his right thumb and index finger…little did you know that he wasn’t just tired physically, but mentally as well…

After a short while, you came back holding a tea cup full of chamomile tea, “Here you go, I hope I made it to your liking”, you say sweetly.

Tecchou doesn’t respond, he slouches on the couch…silent. His right elbow sits on his leg as he covers his eyes with his hand, he doesn’t utter a single word.

“Tecchou? Are you alri-“ your eyes widen as you see small yet clear tears silently roll down his cheek from his covered eyes. You quickly place the tea cup down and sit next to him, “What’s wr-“ you’re cut off guard as he suddenly hugs you tightly, you can feel your shoulder grow wet from his tears.

“I’m tired. I’m so tired…” you hear Tecchou say with a shaky voice, you rub his back as an attempt to soothe him.

“Let it all out…I’m here” you reassure him with a soft comforting tone, you wait patiently until he’s ready talk, to be honest you were taken aback by Tecchou’s sudden vulnerable behavior, sure you two shared your moments but nothing like this…he’s crying into your shoulder as he clings on to you, he’s shaking slightly as he admits his true feelings.

“Long hours, sleepless nights it’s all too much…” he says with a shaky voice as he clings on to you for comfort.

“This new terrorist threat is causing world wide panic and it’s my duty as a hunting dog to capture these criminals and keep these civilians safe, I can’t falter, if I fail…the world as we know it can crumble in an instant”, the anxiety and stress can be heard through Tecchou’s words.

“I’m supposed to be strong for this country, for all the people, their safety relies on me! But I-“ “But you’re only human.”, you say cutting Tecchou off.

Human. When everyone else sees Tecchou as just a powerful weapon of Japan. You.. see him as he truly is, your lover, a simple man. A human.

“You’re a human with feelings, feelings that for months you have been suppressing, a human that is now feeling vulnerable…a human who simply needs comfort at this moment” you say with a warm tone as you hold him.

Tecchou’s eyes widen at your words, he pulls away slowly and looks at you with wide eyes, his eyes fill with more tears as his feelings are all jumbled up; he feels relief, anxiety, sadness, joy, and even peace by your words…

He leans back into your warm embrace as he nuzzles his face back into your shoulder, tears continue to run down his cheeks as he quietly closes his eyes.

“I’ve got you…” you say quietly.

You both doze off on the couch, holding each other as your shared warmth serves as a blanket, finally…Tecchou can sleep soundly in your comforting arms, recovering from all those Tired Nights.

☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆

Love my boy Tecchou, he deserves all the love Istg.

The tea got cold ;(

As always feel free to request anything you’d like, Love y’all! <3

#bsd tecchou #tecchou x reader #bsd x reader #bsd #anime #bsd fanfic

[voidpaws]

he's 2 sauces tall. he's smaller than even an ant. he tripped over a molecule the other day. he fell into the bong and we smoked him sorry

#scourge #warrior cats #bloodclan #scourge wc #do you care.

[felixsramen]

Dating Poly ateez

Is chaotic on another level

WooSan continuously convince you to join in their shenanigans and you always end up getting scolded by Seonghwa and Hongjoong

Mingi is clingy and needs to be around you 24/7 causing woosan to try and scare the poor baby

Yeosang gets compliments 24/7 from everyone

Hongjoong

Hongjoong is always having to be the peacemaker and is quick to discipline

Has given you a lot of talks because of WooSans stupid shenanigans

Has put you in the corner like a child because of WooSan blaming you for things they've done and later having to apologize and punish Woosan when they own up to it

Late night studio cuddles

Hongjoong doesn't sleep well and usually stays in the studio he had built in the house and leaves the door unlocked because he knows you all can get the same way

Going inside his studio and cuddling into his lap and falling asleep while he works

Waking up in the room beside a sleeping Hongjoong

Sleeping in Hongjoongs and Seonghwas room usually means you're pressed between him and Seonghwa

Lots of forehead kisses🥹

Will kiss your forehead a lot because he needs you to know he loves you

Isn't into pda a lot but will hold your hand occasionally in public

Seonghwa

Loves hugging you from behind

Has scolded you for playing ball in the house with WooSan and breaking a vase multiple times and still decides to replace it

Will let you cook with him if you ask

Will show you new recipes and is excited when you show him your own recipes you learned growing up

Will bring you on every grocery trip because you're the only one that doesn't make him get unnecessary stuff for the house

Cuddling you in his and Hongjoongs bed

Has been the subject of many pranks from you and WooSan including pretending that you guys had dented the car and filling up a cup with sprite and soy sauce and telling him it was coke

Refuses anything you offer without you and WooSan drinking or eating it first now

Refuses to let you and WooSan go play laser tag after having to apologize to a whole bunch of moms of 10 year olds about their kids losing to grown adults

Yunho

Hugs anytime of the day

Will hug you in any place is not scared of pda

Picking you up no matter how tall or short or your weight because he just loves giving you affection

Face kisses🥹

Will kiss any part of your face and will kiss you all over your face

Is very into video games and will let you sit in his lap as he plays

Just ask him if you can play video games with him and he won't hesitate to stop in the middle of a game and leave

Will show you step by step how to play it if you've never played

Will let you win but if you get too cocky he will beat you just to bring you down a notch but tells you that you still did great

Always down for rematches with you because he loves seeing how determined you are when he does win

Yeosang

Such a soft boy

He loves cuddling you and will stick up for you in every scenario

You can't help but love his birthmark and kiss it every time you guys cuddle and he gets so flustered from it

Please tell this man how pretty it is because he'd just melt

Doesn't like pda but if he notices your anxious he will pull you to the side and reassure you everything is okay

Loves being near you even if he doesn't say it

May not tell you about how much he loves you but shows it when he can't find the words to say

Has joined you and WooSan on a few pranks after you all begged him to and convinced him by doing his chores for a month

Seonghwa and Hongjoong didn't believe Yeosang took part each time he did and thought you wanted to get out of trouble yourselves

San

Chaos 1 of 2

Usually influenced by Wooyoung and will do anything to please him

Wooyoung convinced you and him it was a good idea for you to go as 3 peas in a pod for Halloween and you regret it everytime you think about it

San is clingy even when Wooyoung isn't around

Wants you to be around him 24/7

Has held you down and forced you to be a pillow and has gotten scolded for it but didn't care and refused to let you up even after the boys tried prying him off you

Can bribe him to do anything with snacks

Has zero shame when it comes to you asking him to do something even if it's embarrassing

Will try to follow you even to the bathroom if you'd just let him

Mingi

Clingy baby🥺

Wants you wherever he is and needs to be touching you at all times even if it's one finger intertwined with yours

WooSan trying to scare him away from you at all times because they think it's funny

Having to comfort Mingi after they try and scare him

Scolding WooSan and they just pout as you hold Mingi closer and glare at them

You constantly reassure him that it's okay when his anxiety gets the best of him and just hold his hands

Loves when you cuddle next to him and run your hands through his hair

Loves pda when you initiate it

Loves skin on skin contact because you're just so warm

Wooyoung

Chaos 2 of 2

Will get you and San into trouble so much

Will also get you out of trouble if it's too much

Needs you to love on him 24/7 because you're just so amazing

Tries declaring his love for you and his boyfriends to everyone that you have to put your hand over his mouth

Does funky little dances because he knows you find them so cute

Will convince you to do anything he asks and just has to beg enough

You and WooSan aren't allowed to drive together anymore because of Wooyoung and yelling out the window causing you to almost crash

Jongho

Loves picking you up to show off his muscles

Sings you to sleep

Will carry you everywhere if you ask

Literally loves showing off his strength to you

You can't help but ask him to break all kinds of different fruits and he'll do it while singing

Picking you up in the middle of plotting with WooSan and ignoring Wooyoung to put you down

He just wants to baby you and take care of you

Nsfw

Hongjoong can be a soft Dom or even a hard Dom depending on the situation

Will either call you his princess or his pretty slut while fucking you depending on the situation

Seonghwa is the same but he prefers being a soft Dom and for Hongjoong to be the hard dom

You're his perfect baby while he leaves kisses on your neck while the boys watch him fuck his fingers inside you

Yunho is a dom and a soft Dom at that

Willing to choke you because you get so dumb over his hands and will definitely call you his gorgeous baby when your eyes roll back at the feeling of his pretty hands around your neck

Yeosang is a switch

He doesn't mind that you call him baby boy when you kiss all over his face while you stroke his cock and San and Wooyoung kiss all over his body

He also doesn't mind calling you his favorite toy while he fucks your mouth and Seonghwa fucks you open

San is a switch

When San Doms he goes all out calling you his favorite plaything and willing to do it all in front of the boys and it can be out of nowhere

When San subs he is such a brat especially with Wooyoung loves when you call him pet he can't help that it makes him cum so fast

Mingi is such a sub and who can blame him

Please call him pretty boy he just can't help but cum in his pants at the name alone

He feels so humiliated by it but can't help but want more as you kiss down his body along with Yeosang

Wooyoung is such a sub and such a brat it takes all 8 of you to fuck the brat out of him

Will get whiny if you're not fast enough for him and try to hump the air if you tie his arms

You and the boys calling him your cumslut and Wooyoung agreeing because he is for you all

Jongho is a dom

He knows you have a strength kink and will use that to his advantage

Will pin you down because he can't help but watch as you squirm under him and close your legs

He will call you darling while he fucks you on full display for the boys

They all love taking pictures and videos of you all cumming and playing them back to jerk off to

Mirror sex for them is so attractive watching as everyone gets a turn fucking each other

Will definitely have you, Wooyoung, and Mingi being passed around because you're all just too gorgeous to not fuck

Please let them do as they please with you

#poly ateez #poly atz #ateez smut #ateez fluff #atz smut #atz fluff

[call-me-a-simp]

Heal My Wounds

Your Savior (Part 2)

Rhea Ripley x Reader

Tw: physical and sexual abuse, toxic relationship

Summary: You are in a toxic relationship with an abusive man but manage to run away. A tall, black haired woman picks you up from the streets just in time so your ex doesn't get you. But who is she and why does she seem so familiar to you? As you get to know each other you start to notice weird feelings you never had before whenever she's around.

You take a Deep Breath, trying to calm down, knowing he couldn't get you now. At least for some time. You knew he wouldn't stop there, he'd try to find you again and terrorize you until you gave in and come crawling back to him.

You take a look in the mirror outside and see him screaming and raging."Hey, are you okay? What happened out there?" the dark haired woman on the driver's side asked. You wince slightly, as you were so caught up in your thoughts, you completely forgot she was still there. "Hey hey, I didn't mean to scare you" she says, trying to sound somewhat comforting. "N-no.. it's okay.. I'm fine.." you say, your voice barely loud enough for her to hear.

"Who was that" the Woman asked again. You shook your head, not wanting to talk about it, everything was just too much. "Not now, sorry, it's just all too overwhelming right now. Thanks though for stopping, I don't even wanna imagine what would have happened if he got me." You give her a weak smile, and she just nods her head and continues driving.

About 20 minutes later you're still driving, the silence that surronded you during that time wasn't that unpleasant after all. The radio was playing quiet musik and all in all you were just glad you finally got some rest. "Where are we headed?" you decided to break the silence. "home" she replies. "I just came back from a buisness trip and the airport it quite far away from where i live." You nodded, silence filling the car once more.

Some minutes later you decide to finally ask her who she was, she seemed so oddly familiar to you. "Can I ask you one more question?" "sure, as many as you'd like" she said. "Who are you and do we know each other by any chance? You seem so familiar"

She chuckled, "Well, you might know me under my ringname, Rhea Ripley, but you can just call me Demi". And that's when it hit you. Rhea. Ripley. The woman you always admired. for her strength and confidence. You just sit there, stunned at what had just happened. "You okay?" Demi asks with a chuckle. "Yeah, yes I- uh I just didn't expect that" you say. She laughs at your response.

"I- I'm y/n btw" you say, a smile tugging a the corner of your lips. How lucky could you be? The Rhea Ripley was the one so save you. "Nice to meet you y/n" Rhea grins. "Do you have anywhere to stay for now?". You shake your head "No, I don't have any friends around here and my parents live quite far away" you explain.

"Okay, you'll just come with me then, also good cause I know you're protected and don't need to blame myself in case anything happens to you tonight" Rhea says, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

You arrive at her place a few minutes later and you both exit the car. Rhea grabs her suitcase from the trunk before opening the door to her apartment. She puts her suitcase next to a small shelf in the hallway before taking off her shoes. You notice just now that you don't have any shoes so you open your backpack to search for a new pair of socks as yours were dirty from running outside.

You quickly change them and follow Rhea inside. "Are you hungry? Do you want anything to drink?"she asks, as you step into the kitchen. "Some water would be good thanks" you say. She hands you a glass of water and Begins to rummage around the kitchen to gather some supplies for cooking.

"Can I help you with anything?" you ask, putting the now empty glass aside. "You can chop some onions and Tomatoes for the Sauce if you want. I'm gonna make Pasta for dinner." Demi says, handing you a cutting board and a knive. Both of you Standing next to each other, you cutting the veggies and her preparing the noodles.

"Mind telling me what happened?" Rhea asks in a comforting voice. You stop cutting mid way, putting the knive away, and start fidgeting with your hands. You turn around so you were leanig against the counter with your back. You take a deep Breath and exhale slowly before starting to speak.

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

This is part 2 on my Heal my Wounds series, hope you enjoy. I've already got plans for future parts but I still appreciate every comment on wishes or hopes etc :)

Taglist: @thatonepansexual2000

#demi bennett #rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #wwe x reader #ex boyfriend #wrestling #rescue #injuries

[skiniibuniii]

ed holiday survival guide

what to bring:

all of this should fit, with extra space, in a large purse. a backpack also works if you need more space.

3 cans of diet soda, 2 of your usual and 1 special one you dont normally buy. if youre sleeping over, take 3-4 of your usual. save the special one for dinner to help you avoid eating.

2 bottles of your favorite water, 3 if youre sleeping over.

of course, a low cal snack like a granola bar in case you feel like youre going to faint. you dont wanna pass out in front of all those people and family members you barely know! bring 2-3 if youre sleeping over or get faint easily.

a few cans of of your favorite energy drink, however many you need to seem alive and well. im taking 4. if you dont like energy drinks, you better hope they have a Keurig or you can get to a starbucks.

napkins or paper towels and a plastic bag. if you can get away with having your purse at the table, line a pocket with a plastic bag. then use your napkin to dispose of your unwanted food into the bag. this can also work with a hoodie pocket, but its riskier. at the end of the dinner, zip up the bag and now it wont get you all gross while you wait for a chance to throw it away.

obvy your phone to sneak under the table and post updates on tumblr.

dont bring any money or cards, unless you need your ID or to buy starbucks or something. in that case, bring only your ID and the exact amount you need for your starbucks.

tips:

dont purge. theyll probably hear you. just avoid eating, and if you really need to, have a metab day beforehand so you do not eat/binge. you dont know what kind of calories are in all that food

choose the lowest cal option available, obvy. your best bet is salad or plain vegetables. if those arent an option, go for turkey, as long as it isnt sitting in a pool of liquid. if that isnt an option, just eat cranberry sauce. fr.

make sure you get a tiny portion of whatever youre eating. like, the total food on your plate should be no bigger than the size of your fist, just in case your lose control and start actually eating. you dont want to ask for more! ew.

make sure you do the classic of chewing constantly. take tiny bites and just do not stop chewing.

popping in a secret piece of gum can help with the last tip a lot esp if its mint. cuz then the food will taste weird if you do decide to eat.

unless its something like salad or cranberry sauce from a can, account for at least 2tbsp of butter when youre calculating your cals.

if you cant estimate the calories in a way you find satisfying, ask for the recipe. calculate the calories, and if you had guessed under initially, make sure you add that same amount of cals to everything else you have to calculate. its probably the sneaky butter messing you up anyway.

best outfit: shirt that shows off your body, an oversized hoodie, and slightly baggy pants. do not wear the hoodie at all till just before dinnertime, then put it on to cover up any bloating. that or just wear it the whole time and do not take it off at all.

wear tall shoes! i am very lucky to have platform boots, and i will be wearing them. they'll make you taller, obvy, so even if youre a bigger ana (like me), youll look lankier and more "proportional"

act like youre wiping your mouth, but really youre doin chew and spit into a napkin, ofc! BUT carbs begin digestion in your mouth, meaning you will consume calories if you chew and spit carbs. AVOID ALL CARBS!!

will update if i think of more tips <3

#tw ana diary #ed not sheeren #thinspø #tw ed rant #i wanna be weightless #meanspø #th1n$po #tw ana fast #4n0r3xia #⭐️ving #⭐️ve #ana trigger #ana rant #low cal diet #4n4t1ps #tw ana shit #4n4blr #ed not ed sheeran #3d f4st #4norexi4 #ana meal #tw disordered eating #tw restrictive ed #anorex14 #pro for myself #ed meals #ed safe space #ed bllog #ed relapse #th1nsp1ration

[kerubimcrepin]

Liveblog - Dofus, livre 1 : Julith [PART 20]

Joris grabs Kerubim as they're falling, to shield him, and my personal thoughts on this are [CAR CRASH] [GLASS SHATTERING] ‘GOOD LORD!’ [GENERAL COMMOTION] [BABY CRYING] ‘WAAAAH WAAAAH’ [YELLING] [POLICE SIRENS] WEEWOO WEEWOO [HELICOPTERS] ‘WE’RE REPORTING LIVE-‘ [EXPLOSION] ‘MY LEG… MY LEG…’

Even with his probably very limited thinking-capabilities as a kitten, Kerubim's first instinct after falling is to look at whether Joris is alright or not. Personally, I think that——

:(

fanmgs

Kerubim is 2 sauces tall, but ready to avenge his death and also his son's fresh traumatization.

"Please don't call me a flask of poison because I have some green liquid inside and skulls drawn on my bottle <3 just drink up. Okie dokie?"

I don't lnow what this woman is expecting, here, honestly.

BASED Joris.

Bakara really thinks that Joris is stupid enough to go with her, while Joris employs the classical battle tactic of lying, by approaching her until she let go of Lilotte and saying "im going to kill you or hurt you in some way [giggle]" immediately after.

But as Bakara has shown repeatedly, even in this scene alone, she doesn't think highly of Joris. Even if she tried really hard to pretend that she did.

Well, she doesn't think of anyone highly, actually. Including herself.

This screenshot will get a lot of usage during ova2 liveblog, followers. It's literally THE reaction image for ova2.

While watching this movie, I always go between different extremes, when thinking about Joris and Bakara's relationship in the future. Would it become worse? Would they be close? Would they hate each other?

Every time I have a different answer, which is probably an answer in on itself.

My current take is that whether Joris and Bakara consider one another a friend probably varies from year to year. I can see it clearly: her telling him stories of Jahash. Her helping him around the home. Her criticizing him harshly for being a failure of a huppermage (it's as unacceptable for him to be that, as it is for her). Her stopping talking to him after he leaves the academy. Beginning to talk to him again after a few years, when he has a very close call to death while adventuring, — angry at him, because don't you dare die on me while we're in one of our "I don't talk to you" argument phases. Rinse and repeat.

I think it's funny. Atcham's greatest wish, besides hair, has always been "I want someone in my family to care about me," while Bakara...

Whike Bakara, as an heir of a Bontarian hero, would probably fear being in the wrong, — an evildoer, — the very most.

No wonder they're so shocked.

Both of them are experiencing some entirely new emotions, thanks to Joris.

It's not really about Bonta. It's about revenge. And it's about her feeling inadequate. And it's about her feeling like a failure.

As far as she's concerned, even a dofus doesn't want her, with how broken she is. He wants some weird, off-putting, Julith-related 10yo instead.

One has to wonder, if it is a genuine plea, or if she is manipulating Bakara by revealing the truth. Because she doesn't want to be blown to pieces by a dofus.

It's a bit hard to analyse this part of the movie because I'll be real, there's so much occuring all at the same time. Like bro. Imagine being Joris here.

The woman who killed your dads is now like "I am going to bring one of them back", and also another one came back 5 minutes ago, but also things are exploding and fire is everywhere, and also your aunt just tried to kill your uncle?? And also stole your dragon egg magical nuke.

Even if everything Julith said was true, — her cold, cold reaction to a fireball hitting her son, the way she looks at Bakara like at dirt, and the way she says "quit fooling around", point so, so heavily towards her revelation of this information being a tactical way to manipulate Bakara.

#ro liveblogs dofus #dofus #wakfu #krosmoz #dofusmovie

[pedropascalspolygraphtest]

Joel Miller x Reader- After The End Of The World

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, Female reader

Episode 2 spoilers ahead!

The supplies would run out soon, and you were no closer to Wyoming than you’d all been the hours before.

You’d spent most of the afternoon driving in loops looking for ways out- the roads had been blocked through with cars, and keeping away from cities was only wise. Finally, late in the evening, Joel had called it a night- no sense driving around in the dark. You’d set up camp in an abandoned building, and Ellie had fallen asleep instantly, leaving you and Joel to sort out whatever remained of your belongings.

Joel sighed, and rubbed his forehead like he always did when he was faced with a problem he couldn’t tell anyone else about. He’d done it before too, it was his tell, something you’d begun to pick up on.

Are you trying to rub the wrinkles away? you’d joked, and he’d frowned and turned away. Not before you caught the hint of a smile; but he would never admit it.

It wasn’t that he hated who who he was with. He’d come to a begrudging place of affection as far as Ellie was concerned, his wayward cargo with her potty-mouth and her knife and her endless prattle. He’d told her to zip it twice the night before, to no avail. She’d gone on and on about what she’d heard about places to eat before the world had ended, and what a McDonalds was, and was it true there were secret sauces that nobody could ever reveal the recipe to on pain of death?

He’d laughed then, and looked over at you; you, Ellie’s guardian, the only person she trusted, sent by Marlene to keep an eye on her because she had too little faith in Joel and Tess let her go her unaccompanied. Your only job was to keep Ellie alive, Marlene had told Joel, even if you lost your own life in the process. Joel had hated you when you’d first set out with them; cursed you out under his breath, gave you looks that could turn water to ice. Slowly, after Tess’s death, the two of you had found an understanding, based on one simple fact— both of you were here only to keep Ellie safe, no matter what.

And lately, you realized, it had begun to feel like a friendship; you two would raise your eyebrows companionably when Ellie went on one of her spiels about what she knew about life-before, joke as you cooked meals, argue about the music in the car— you’d only been seven when the outbreak begun, but you’d had your favorite songs at that age already, songs your parents had played in the car as they drove you to school, singing along.

Not to mention, the tiny fact that you’d been falling for Joel.

It hadn’t happened all at once, of course. You’d seen him around long before he was tasked with transporting Ellie— a tall man with flinty eyes, his mouth never too far from a frown. He’d been trading with Marlene for years, always staying just as long as necessary, never making eye contact with anyone except her. You’d thought him handsome; certainly handsomer than any of the Fireflies, but it was over the course of your journey that you’d begun to really see him—the softness of his mouth as he hummed along to the old cassette tapes Ellie fished out from between the seats. The big, callused hands on his gun. The way he’d dived to cover you, putting himself in the line of direct gunfire, when you’d been grazed by a stray bullet two days ago.

“Are we headed north again tomorrow?” you asked to make conversation. You kept your voice low, to avoid waking Ellie up. “I think there’s a route that loops around one of the smaller towns. There might be raiders, but the roads will likely be clear—”

Joel didn’t look up from stacking what was left of the canned food.

“Or we could spend tomorrow looking around the houses nearby,” you offered. “I don’t think there’s anybody around for miles, and if we try I think we might find something we can use—”

“And risk getting bitten, which’ll be really fuckin’ likely?” Joel snapped without turning around. “Abandoned homes are nearly always—Jesus. Did the Fireflies teach you nothing?”

You went quiet then, hurt. Joel sighed, and put down the can to look at you.

“Look, Y/N, I’m sorry.” He came over to sit beside you, leaning his head against the wall. “I didn’t mean for it to come out— come out like that.”

You didn’t reply, and shrugged.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He looked over at you, his brown eyes suddenly clouded with regret.

“I know. And I’m sorry, I really am. It’s just…” He rubbed his forehead again. “I’ve been on edge about getting to fuckin’ Wyoming for so long, and with you getting shot—”

“Grazed.”

“Shot.” He gestured to your thigh. “How is it now?”

“Not too bad. I would show you, but—” your face suddenly went red and you realized what you’d been about to say. But I’d have to take off what I’m wearing.

Not that Joel hadn’t seen it all before. He’d been with Tess, and no doubt, many women before that— and you couldn’t deny you hadn’t thought about it yourself. What it would feel like to have his hands cup your breasts, his lips taste your neck. You’d always looked away guiltily— what would he do, if he knew you were thinking these things?

But Joel had seen you too— he’d bandaged up your thigh when it had happened, his fingers making quick work of it. It had been a flesh wound, nothing worse, but his skin had been warm against yours, and his grip had been firm.

“You should clean it.” He fiddled with the zipper of his jacket. “You can do it yourself, if you know how. Or I can…” he swallowed, and suddenly, you sensed an undercurrent of something that he wasn’t saying. “Or I can do it.”

You shrugged, trying your hardest to stay nonchalant.

“Those supplies are in the next room,” you said. You’d left them there, like an idiot, when you’d gone to explore.

Joel said nothing, and helped you up wordlessly. With his support, you limped over to the adjoining room— a room which contained, you realized in embarrassment, a bed.

“Okay,” you said, and winced as you leaned against what was left of the mattress. “I’ll just—”

“Here.” Joel leaned over. His fingers touched the waistband of your torn cargo pants. “It’ll go easier if I do it.”

You nodded in affirmation, and Joel hooked his fingers under the waistband, careful not to touch too much, and pushed your pants down your legs. He stopped when they went past your thighs, and you shook your head.

“Take them off. The snaps hurt my skin.”

He continued— was his breathing suddenly heavier, or were you imagining it?— and let your pants pool on the floor. The bandage had soaked through; Joel was right. It needed to be cleaned, and badly.

Slowly, he began pulling off the bandage to clean the surface beneath. You watched him as he worked, aware of the pain, but even more aware how warm his fingers were on your thigh, how close they were to your core, and how all you wore now was a thin pair of cotton underwear that would soon be soaked with your juices. It embarrassed you and excited you at the same time, knowing he’d see how much you wanted him. It went on forever, and you could swear he smelled the scent of your longing when—

“Done,” he said at last, his voice low, gruff. He pulled away, barely an inch. “I’ll-” his voice broke off. “I’ll take a look at it again tomorrow.” He turned away— but you caught a telltale bulge at his front, hard against the fabric of his pants.

He wanted you too.

“Joel.” He looked up, brown eyes meeting yours. You sat up, slowly, and without breaking eye contact, began to pull off your tattered old tshirt. “I want you to look at me.” He breathed in sharply when he saw your chest, breasts barely contained in an old black bra. His eyes dipped to meet them hungrily as you undid the clasp and let your breasts free, nipples peaked at the thought of him, his eyes, his mouth.

“Y/N, I-” he began, but you shook your head. Slowly, you took his hand, and guided it to the center of his panties, showing him your wetness, showing him just how much you needed him.

And that was all Joel needed to let himself free. With a lurch he let his mouth meet yours, and your tongues collided in a fiery kiss. His lips were rough against yours, his beard scratching your cheek. His fingers made quick work of the panties, pulling them down and discarding them to the ground.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He breathed as he saw all of you for the first time, swollen and ready for him. “Fuck.”

His mouth found your nipple, wrapping around it as his fingers worked at your core. In the moment, he left an enormous red mark on your neck— a mark you knew you’d have to hide under layers of clothes the next day.

He bent down to push his face between your legs, but you shook your head.

“Later.” You panted. “Now, I need you.”

He sat up, complying. Slowly, he guided his impressive length into you, filling you up completely, his heat against yours. He was huge, bigger than any of the men you’d had back in Boston. And on the first motion of his hips, you knew he was better too; rougher, more experienced. He took what he wanted.

“You’re so tight.” He groaned. “You’re gonna have me in a bad way, Y/N.”

He moved inside you, every stroke sending waves of pleasure though you. And when you went over the edge, he came with you, biting your shoulder as he let his seed trickle over your stomach.

He rolled off you with a groan, and you covered his mouth with a kiss.

“I want you to do this again tomorrow.” You gave him a wink. “Inspect my.. wounds.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Tomorrow?” He gave you a devilish grin as he moved down to push his face between your legs. “I’m a man who likes to get things done as soon as he can.” He licked the inside of your thigh, his tongue sending a shiver through you. “And those wounds need inspecting right about now.”

#joel #joel miller #ellie #tess #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us smut #joel miller imagine #after the end of the world #the last of us hbo #hbo max #last of us #last of us fanfiction #last of us fic #joel x female reader #long long time #cordyceps #fireflies

[lazyjellyfish300]

DD part 2

Fem Reader x Miguel O'Hara who is your Uber Driver

**image is not mine, from a Google search, all credit to respective owners**

Plot- reader drinks too much and the bartender calls a random Uber for her which happens to be Miguel O'Hara himself. Her friends suck and ditch her. There's a lot of tension on the ride home.

Part 1 , Pt 3 1, Part 3 2, Part 4 , Part 5

T/W 18+ only, minors DNI, alcohol mentioned, mature language, implied masturbation, sexual fantasies, vomit, age gap (reader 26, Miguel 34)

Thank you to everyone who expressed interest in this story so much that I decided to change it from a one shot to a series🖤

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The following day...

You slowly rose from the dead at 2 pm with a hangover from hell, your stomach lopsided, prompting you to bolt to the toilet. After an unpleasant upchuck and rinsing with Listerine, you couldn't help but smile as you looked in the mirror, still shrouded in Miguel's oversized hoodie. You threw your hair in a messy bun and shuffled into the kitchen. You curse when you find out you're all out of bottled water. You pour yourself a tall glass from the tap and try your best to gulp it down without thinking about the weird metallic taste.

Last night's events slowly start coming back into focus. You were so obsessed with what happened with Miguel that you completely forgot it was due to your friends ditching you. You run back in your room, grunting in annoyance when you realize your dumb ass forgot to charge your phone overnight. You wait impatiently for the battery to creep up to 1% so you can turn it back on. Eager to see if Miguel tried to contact you after the encounter, somehow, some way. As your phone loads, your stomach drops in disappointment when you see that you have no notifications from Miguel, which turns to resentment when you realize your so-called friends didn't even bother trying to call or text you either to make sure you at least got home.

You sigh and flop back on the bed. You double check the Uber app and your heart rate increases when you see that you can report a "lost item" to get in contact again.

Noooo remember girl, let him come to you. Do you really wanna be the one that reaches out first when he turned down a kiss from you last night? But wait, he was a gentleman. Maybe he was just trying not to be an ass or give you the wrong idea since you were intoxicated...He literally wiped taco sauce from your mouth and licked it off his finger for fuck's sakes!

How could someone be so goddamn hot, kind, and gentlemanly at the same time? And what brought him to do all those things for you of all people?

You go to the help section of the app and realize that Miguel can't contact you. Since you're the rider, any personal info won't be shared with him besides your pickup and drop off location, unless you reach out about an issue.

Fuck me! You suddenly feel like you're in middle school again trying to talk to a cute guy.

For the love of God, do it!! Worst he can say is no? That's exactly what I'm scared of, dummy!

Oh no, it's ringing!

-----mini time jump backwards to that night-----

After dropping you off, Miguel arrived back to his apartment about 3 am, teeming with want for your soft skin. He laid down in his dark room with the lights off and flashes of you two together entered his mind.

Breathing into each other's mouths as if the heat between you was the only thing keeping each other warm. Marking you with little red and purple bites of love. Him grabbing your jaw with his fingers, while you desperately sputtered his name, not letting you look anywhere else but at him. Gentle sounds of your love ringing off the walls in varying volumes.

He pictured your beautiful face looking up at him while he murmured how beautiful you looked and what a goddess you were.

He imagined spending all night with you just like this, burning memories of your skin into his mind that he’d replay whenever he needed you like a faulty record.

His fists clenched in frustration. All of those fantasies would have came true if he wasn't such a fucking coward tonight.

After you two would have made love, he imagined taking care of you afterwards. Hearing your soft, beautiful voice as you two shared pillow talk while he planted wet kisses on your shoulder. Playing with your hair, sleeping naked together. Maybe letting things get heated in the bathroom one more time before washing each other's bodies afterwards.

Tiredness got the best of him and he drifted off to sleep, imagining you in his arms...

-----back to the following afternoon -----

Conchata O'Hara's heeled boots echoed down the marble hallway to Miguel's apartment, her 6 year old granddaughter, Gabriella in tow. Gabi was an adorable, soft spoken little girl. She was musing to her grandma about her friend Peyton's birthday party as they came up to Miguel's door. Conchata was a striking woman. If you saw her you could tell the lion's share of Miguel's good looks came from her. She could have been a former Miss Universe. She stood at 6'1, a long tan trenchcoat over a black turtle neck, with grey slacks, two chopsticks securing her greying raven hair in a bun as two stray wisps of hair grazed her face in front. Laugh lines adorning the corner of her eyes.

Miguel jerked awake when he heard his doorbell. He forgot to set his alarm for when his mother brought his daughter home from their sleepover. Conchata was always happy to watch her precious granddaughter while Miguel worked. Conchata's brow raised as she realized her son wasn't awake. Finally, Miguel opened the door, Gabi squealing in delight. "Daddy!"

"Hey, bumblebee!" Miguel scooped her up, hugging her tight. It was difficult to be away from her, even if he knew it was only because he needed to provide for them financially. Conchata smiled and walked in. Miguel gave his mom a kiss on the cheek, towering over her despite her height as well.

"Long night, mijo?" She asked in a regal voice.

"Ma.." Miguel sighed. She always treated him like a young boy instead of a grown man.

"I raised you better than this!" She tsked at the sight of dishes in the sink.

"Mama," Miguel said tiredly. "I was working until 3 am, I haven't had a chance to get to those." Conchata looked at him as if she was trying to see through him.

"Did you have a girl over?" Miguel sighed and looked at Gabi.

"Mija, why don't you go play in your room and get your Barbies." Gabi's eyes lit up and she giggled as she ran for her room.

"Ma, please don't talk about that around Gabi..." Miguel said as he started to wash the dishes.

"You just seemed off." Conchata said. "What's going on in your head? I can never read you these days. I worry, you know."

"Maybe I did meet someone, ma."

Conchata's eyes widened and at that moment, Miguel's phone rang.

"Perdóname..Hello?" Miguel walks outside onto his balcony, shutting the sliding door on a bewildered Conchata.

Your voice sunk to the bottom of your stomach when you heard Miguel's attractive voice on the other line.

"Hi, Miguel, it's me, y/n from last night..."

Miguel's face started to turn into a smile. "Hey, it's so good to hear from you. Are you feeling better this morning?"

"Yeah, yeah I am. Thanks so much again, I mean, for everything. I just had to tell you that."

"Well, of course. It's my pleasure to do that for you."

There was a long, painful, pregnant pause.

"Is..that all you wanted to tell me?" He asked softly.

"Well...I mean, yeah pretty much you know I just felt bad and..

"Y/n?"

Your heart stops at the sound of your name.

"I enjoyed our time together last night and, if you're open to it, I'd like to get to know you better. Can I take you out sometime?"

You felt your internal organs do a victory dance. "Oh, YEAH, I mean, I'd love that. When would you like to?"

Miguel thought for a moment. "Would Wednesday night work? It's a little strange, I know. My schedule is kind of hectic. But maybe we could grab dinner. Do you like Italian food?"

"I do! Wednesday sounds great!" You say without checking your schedule.

"Wonderful."

You two exchange numbers and make plans to meet Wednesday night. Once you both hang up you're both experiencing a mixture of giddiness, relief and anticipation for your first date.

Wednesday couldn't come soon enough.

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Thank you for reading! Pt 3 coming soon 🖤

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #SoundCloud

[audreyhepburninblackandwhite]

Audrey Hepburn's cover story for Illustrated's 2 June 1951 issue.

Carefree, off and on duty.

Audrey — The Other Hepburn

Photography by Joseph McKeown Story by Charles Hammlett

After four years of theatres, cabarets, and films, a young dancer takes a day off from career building

The Sphinx of Hollywood, otherwise Katharine Hepburn, actress and movie performer, recently spent a few days in this country wrapped in rain and  mystery, and wearing an old pair of eye-catching, publicity-snatching slacks. As one of the country’s legends, Miss Hepburn has earned the right to flinch at the rustle of a reporter’s notebook, or to duck at the sound of a photographer’s footfall.

Even as pressmen determinedly pounded the Hepburn beat, a few miles away at Ealing Studios another Hepburn was quietly performing in front of the camera—as yet blissfully unaware of the hysterical mobs and frustrated fanatics who often make the lives of Hepburns, Stanwycks, Gables, or Turners unendurable.

This other Hepburn was Audrey—Britain’s answer to every filmgoer’s hungry dreams. Twenty-two, brainy, beautiful, tantalizing, and talented, she is a girl of simple tastes to travel to Ealing by Underground from Marble Arch, takes Sunday afternoon strolls in Hyde Park, and stops to listen to the geniuses of Orator’s Corner.

Restful spirit at Rottingdean . . .

Over a gate for home . . .

She rides on buses or browses in the Charing Cross Road bookshops. Visits to cinemas and theatres are still fun for her. Given a day off, she will rush to the coast and join countless other holidaymakers. Audrey Hepburn is also a hard and fast worker. Just over two years ago, Jack Hylton selected her from 2,000 other girls to dance in High Button Shoes. After this “break,” Audrey tripped into the chorus of Sauce Tartare. There she caugh the eye of producer Cecil Landeaus sufficiently to be given a solo part in his sequel Sauce Piquante. This, in turn, caught the attention of the theatre critics and the public.

Among the regulars who went to see Audrey’s performance was film producer Mario Zampi. He went fourteen times. Like many pretty showgirls, Audrey had frequently been told she ought to be in films. Zampi not only said it, he gave her a small part in Alastair Sim’s Laughter in Paradise. Other “meatier” parts followed in The Lavender Hill Mob and Young Wives’ Tale. She obtained a contract with Associated British Pictures and a leading part in Ealing’s The Secret People—before her first three pictures were released. During the next few months, filmgoers will be able to make up their own minds about Audrey. They will see a lithe, dark-hair, large-eyed girl who slightly resembles Jean Simmons. Unlike Jean, however, Audrey has a cosmopolitan and somber background.

Secret performances for members of Dutch Resistance were some of Audrey’s experiences during the war. Now, at twenty-two, she takes the part of a refugee dancer in the film The Secret People.

A mixture of Scots, Belgian, and Dutch, she was in Belgium at the outbreak of war. After the Belgian capitulation, the family moved to Arnhem. Their house there was shelled during the airborne landing.

It was at Arnhem that she made her first public appearance as an entertainer. Black, or secret, concerts were given in private houses by performers who had refused to join the German sponsored “Chamber of Culture.” Audrey, then fifteen, was invited to appear at one of these concerts. Her mother helped her to make costumes from old curtains and chair covers. Later, conditions became so bad that cothes and jewellery were sold to provide food for the family.

Looked at from the Mayfair flat where she now lives with her mother, these days seem unreal. Though she entered show business as a dancer, Audrey is rapidly developing as an actress. Unusually tall for films—she is 5'7"—she has passed the stage where producers can brush her off by telling her she is “too lofty for camera work.” A girl with her potential star value can be as tall as a giraffe and still get by.

Audrey Hepburn could gracefully occupy a star’s chair in Britain’s studios. She might even attract some of the international attention now lavished on “Katie” Hepburn, and enable that much harassed star to pursue her life far from the madding crowd.

#audrey hepburn #vintage #classic #style #photography #fashion #old hollywood #old hollywood glamour #1950s #1951 #readings #audrey hepburn readings #magazines #vintage magazines

[corpsedog]

@itsmealaiah my bestest friend ever even though she treats me like shit and I think hates me. was always there for me when no one else was and has yet to stray. hate her.

@khris0l0gyyy this strange emo stoner that picked me up off the side of the road and put me in his dresser drawer. I don't know what his problem is. I love him a lot.

@fheonixx / @f03nixx I forgot what the right @ was but uh this is my favorite lesbian ever. they are in kahoots with the ever so evil alaiah but they actually like me so it's excusable.

@whizzergoingmadd / @mlm-blues a gay little faggot who is 3 soy sauce tall and gets bitten a lot. he's my gay faggot post dealer. I used to be afraid of him but he is too small to hurt me so I am picking him up and carrying him in my purse like a poodle. I've trimmed his poodle hair and dyed it blue to distract everyone from his red teary eyes.

@us-costco-official for some reason I am casually just friends-ish mutuals with a famous guy. not sure how I bagged that but this guy is my moodboard req dealer and he's really super duper hilarious so I guess you can say I scored. beavis and butthead reference.

@kieran0l0gyyy this is just me. I like myself a lot even though I'm insane and ill. this guy fucks MAD bitches and has a really huge penis, which I can confirm considering the fact that he is me. he really likes trans girls. like a lot. if you are one. consider dming him for more information

@sprouts-corner my little French diaper baby. he is so tiny and small and I am his dad. hello son. I love his little arts even though he's better than me and makes me feel bad about it

@hauntedcollectordreamland another lesbian friend. I have 3 of them somehow. dated evil alaiah for like 2 days. stinkyyyy 👎.