#It feels correct even though its a little over - acted

[wriothesleybear]

~warnings: pornstars, mentions of different type of porn genres, squirting, fem!reader, MDNI!

~a/n: i may have lost myself in writing this..enjoy😈 (ngl i sorta wanna write porn plot for Wrio..i got some ideas👀..)

Pornstar!Wriothesley who usually does genres like dom, bdsm, rough play, somewhat hardcore porn, threesome, roleplay, etc. while you do softcore and the more vanilla types of genres. He has never done softcore porn before because it didn't really interest him and he thought he was better at the other more spicy genres. When he was given the offer to do a softcore porn video, he was going to immediately turn it down, but when he saw that you would be his co-star, he reconsidered his decision. Due to the different types of genres you two did, neither of you knew that much of the other, except for hearing little details from previous coworkers.

Pornstar!Wriothesley who tries doing his first softcore porn video and its with you as his co-star. When he saw you, he changed his mindset about softcore porn and was willing to try it only if it was with you. Those type of videos are meant for couples who are deeply in love with one another and they show it through the passionate sex they have. When you two do it, you two have the most intense passion on camera, even though it's acting, it's hard to tell with you two. He felt different when performing with you. It didn't feel like acting and he didn't have to fake it with you. He was never one to be soft and slow when fucking someone but with you, he didn't mind taking his time. You two didn't need a script or directions from the director on what to do, somehow you guys already knew. It starts with short, sweet kisses that gradually turn into a slow make out as you begin to undress each other. He eats you out first to prep you for his cock and when he gets a taste, fuck, is he addicted. He was planning to only make you cum on his tongue once. He really wanted to do more than once because the view of you coming undone, the pleasurable expressions you made, your sweet nectar filling his mouth, the sound of your moans filling his ears, he wanted to experience it again. But he held himself back, wanting to have you come on his cock next. Before that, you returned the favor by having him lie on his back as you sucked his cock. The view of you taking his large length in your mouth was one of the most beautiful views he's ever seen. It beat the other views of the other female pornstars who's had his cock in their mouths. The way you sucked his cock, taking it down your throat like a pro, your tongue swirling around it, he swear he would've came right there down your throat, but he stopped you before he did. He wanted to feel your pussy first before he came.

Pornstar!Wriothesley who gently pulls you off of his dick and turns you over on your back. He litters kisses all over your body then moves up to your lips and pulls you into another deep make out session, arms wrapped around one another as he slowly rubs the head of his cock on your clit, making you moan and your thighs twitch. You break the kiss for a second to look into his eyes, begging him for more. He couldn't tell for sure if you were just acting for the camera or if it was your true feelings. But deep down, he felt that you weren't acting and his thoughts were proved correct as he felt you tighten around his cock as he whispered lewd things in your ear, telling you how nice your pussy feels squeezing his cock, how beautiful you looked as he cupped your cheek and looked into your eyes. It made your heart thump and pussy clench which he felt. He smirked and continued praising you. Your nails scratch his back as he thrusts into you, pace quickening as you both get close. "Come for me. That's it," he'd say as he kisses and nibbles your neck. You finally come, having one of the most mind-breaking orgasms you've ever had while performing a porn video. He fucks you through your orgasm, thrusts becoming sloppy until he pulls out and vigorously jerks his cock, head falling back as he moans aloud, cumming on your stomach. You watched, eyes widening at the most glorious view you've ever seen. Your eyes meet as you both breathe heavily, trying to catch your breath. He bends down and kisses you once again, not specifically doing it for show for the cameras but because he got caught up in the moment, but he won't admit that, not now at least.

Pornstar!Wriothesley who notices that he has the most compatibility with you that he requests to do more vids with you as his co-star. When you ask him why, he says with a teasing smile and flirty eyes, "I think we work well together." You can't help the blush that covers your cheeks and the tingles in your body when he said that, but you take it as a compliment and accept his business proposal. You also agree that you two work well together as seen from that last porn video you did. You were acting at first in the beginning of the video but if you were being honest, throughout the rest of the video, you don't think either of you were acting. You could see the passion as well, but you didn't give it much thought. Just thinking that it was good teamwork.

Pornstar!Wriothesley who starts doing more softcore porn videos with you because thats one of your specialties, but he soon introduces you to his type of videos that he specializes in, getting you to do some with him. He understood that you were new to this type of genre so he started with little things like easy doming and simple bdsm to ease you into it, before going into the more hardcore stuff. You would only do these types of genres with him because you two have a deep connection and trust with one another. There's no one else you would want to do it with and the same goes for him as well.

Pornstar!Wriothesley whose videos that you two make together get the most views compared to the others vids you've done with other popular pornstars. They also can see how well you two work with one another, noticing the passion and chemistry you two have and how it doesn't look fake to them. You know how some pornstars fake their moans when they come and it's obviously fake, neither of you do that when performing together. You never have to exaggerate your moans with Wrio and he's actually more vocal with you compared with other pornstars he's worked with. When directors and managers come to you two with video proposals, you two always bring up the idea of having each other as the co-star, which usually goes your way.

Pornstar!Wriothesley who gives you his number one day after finishing a video so you can talk outside of work and hang out. 'A way for coworkers to bond' as he said when he asked you out to dinner. Plus, he offered to help you practice for future porn videos, testing out different genres you were curious in trying. After all, practice makes perfect. One of the genres he helped you with that you were curious about was squirting. Let's just say, he couldn't get you to stop and helped you become a pro at it fairly quickly. Ever since he tasted you for the first time, he has been wanting to make you squirt on his tongue, among other things.. So it makes him happy that you are wanting to try out different things with him outside of work. Once you get a hang of it after practicing with Wrio, you ask to do it again with him but in front of a camera this time.

Pornstar!Wriothesley who calls you late at night when he can't sleep because he can't stop thinking about you and your warm, tight pussy that fits so nicely around his cock. He also thinks about your smile, your laugh, your personality, how he enjoys the time he spends with you (both sfw and nsfw moments). Sometimes he calls you just to talk so he can hear your voice or he has you come over to his place or he goes over to yours just to hang out and watch a movie or something. Sometimes, it's for a late night booty call because you two just can't get enough of each other. You can't lie that you can't stop thinking about him either. Not only because of his nice, thick cock, but because he makes you feel something deeper than just coworkers or friends. It's not good to get into a relationship when working in this type of business but maybe you two can work it out.

#wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley headcanons #wriothesley smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact smut

[astarioffsimpmain]

Unsolicited Affections (Part 1)

[Screenshots and Tav, Ban, by the lovely @brabblesblog]

Halsin x Plus Size F!Reader

Warnings: Body insecurity; internalized fatphobia; otherwise, floof (for now)

Synopsis: Your growing feelings for Halsin can no longer be ignored. Even so, that doesn't mean you don't try for your poor heart's sake. However, Halsin keeps bringing you closer, and you aren't sure how much longer you can take it without confessing... even though confessing is your worst fear.

Author's Note: Thank you so much to @brabblesblog for taking these screenshots and allowing me to use Ban in the header! For all readers, there will be a Part 2 to this fic and it will be the smut you all requested from the poll I took! This became a super duper indulgent fic for me, as I struggle with all of the insecurities the reader struggles with here. But I hope this little 2 part creation can act as a balm for anyone who has ever struggled with their bodily image, or wondered if they'd ever be seen as beautiful. This one's for you; for us. <3

Part 2 Here

The battle had been bloody. Grime and viscera was spread across each body, hair color lost in deep dyes of red in the wake of the victory. You and your companions trudged back to camp in silence; exhausted. You had failed to obtain what the battle had been fought for in the first place, and you were certain that your mood was soured for the rest of the evening. Upon reentering your campground, Gale was the first to greet you all, thankful to see that everyone was alive, albeit roughed up; obvious disappointment creased his features for a moment when you told him the news that you had failed to obtain the magical object you had set out for, but he hid it behind an understanding smile and ushered you to sit by the fire as he finished dinner. 

You had reasoned that if the Netherese Orb in Gale's chest required the consumption of magic to remain stable, that the more powerful the object, the longer it would sate him. So you had taken a group and set out for the most powerful magical object in your direct vicinity - the Circlet of Blasting. You had recognized it the day previous on the head of a Drow with several of its companions near the Myconid colony in the Underdark. Once you found them again, you approached to inquire whether you could cough up enough gold to take it off their hands, but when they turned and pierced you with vicious red eyes that gleamed back at your group with a reflectiveness like a cat's, you knew gold would not satisfy them. And as they drew their daggers, you were proven correct, and the battle had begun.

You slumped over on the log next to the fire, too exhausted to properly stow your weight, as you removed your armor piece by piece. The second person to approach you carried a warm bowl of stew and placed it gently into your palms. The hands were tender and gentle, and much too large to belong to anyone but your favorite Archdruid. You raised your weary head to meet his beautiful bright green eyes, creased with worry, but soft with care as he lowered himself to the ground beside your legs, his muscular arm grazing the now-bare skin of your thigh as he adjusted. A flutter ran through your stomach at the contact, but you clamped down on it before you could get carried away. You knew his kindness was platonic. It had to be. Halsin was simply…kind. 

The tell-tale signs of complicated and painful feelings had risen within your chest since rescuing Halsin from the goblins, and although you had tried to deny them, recently it had proven impossible. But while you finally admitted to yourself that you had fallen for his disarming smile, the scratch of his well-worn fingertips against your softer skin, and how passionately he cared about every living creature in nature, you refused to admit it to anyone else. You would be sparing yourself that embarrassment this time around. Your chest ached, remembering the many times you'd fallen for someone and approached them with this truth, only to be turned away over and over again. Inwardly, you snarled, blaming the extra plush your body carried for your lack of luck in love. Whether the objects of your affection had been kind, polite, or downright rude, there was always a moment in which their eyes would quickly rake your body up and down before delivering their blow. Perhaps they didn't even recognize that they did it, but you saw. You always saw. 

So, while you knew Halsin would never be unkind to you, you had been trying to make peace with the very probable fact that he would only ever see you as a friend - never quite attractive enough to be anything more. It was something you were used to, but it never seemed to dull the throbbing pain in your heart whenever you thought on it too long. There was a part of you, somewhere deep, that knew you were not at fault; that knew you were not to blame; that perhaps if they had deigned to look beyond the surface for even a moment, that they would have seen how genuine your heart was, and how they never would have had to go without affection, love, or loyalty should they have chosen you. You weren't without this enlightenment, but the constant dissatisfaction of, or concern for, the body you carried from those around you - from well-meaning friends to pushy strangers - weighed heavy on your tired mind. 

This moment around the fire was no exception, your burning desire to curl around Halsin's broad shoulders like a cat and purr was strong, but overshadowed by the fear of rejection. You had him near, but pulling him too close was to risk sending him far away, and you weren't sure you'd be able to stand it were that to occur. An icy shudder ran through you at the mere thought of Halsin retracting his warmth from your side. "- giving you a chill?" His dulcet voice pulled you back to reality like a line reeling you in, but you caught only his last few words. 

"What?" You said, blinking as his image in your eyes grew sharper again. "Apologies, my mind was far away." 

"No worries." He chuckled. "I merely asked if the night air was giving you a chill. You were shaking, my heart." 

My heart. 

You melted a little. The nickname was fairly new. The first time he had called you that had been two mornings prior, after a late start and a quick bath in the bioluminescent pools near your campsite in the Underdark. You had come trudging back to camp in clothes that were quickly dampening due to being pressed against your still wet skin, wringing your hair out ferociously as you tried to hurry to catch up with everyone else's progress. You had just started to wrench your boots up over your clinging pants when Halsin had approached you, laying a warm hand against your wet-stained shirt. You had startled, your head snapping up to his in a surprised daze. 

"Slow down." He had said, running a soothing hand down your bent spine and back up, sending full bodied shocks through you like tidal waves. "You needn't worry, my heart. We will wait for you." 

As the memory warmed your cheeks, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes, praying he couldn't see the thoughts lingering just inside the colors of your irises. "No, I'm alright. Just- just a bit weak from not eating all day. Thank you, for bringing me this." You finally acknowledged the bowl in your hands and raised it a little. 

"Of course. Please, eat. I hear from the others that you had a rough skirmish. I implore you to let me check you over once you've finished your stew." 

Ignoring the way your heart jumped dangerously near to your throat, you nodded silently, opting instead to pick up the wooden spoon in the bowl and begin to eat. It was one of Halsin's spoons; one he whittled. It was smooth and beautiful and easy to hold. Almost all of the cutlery in camp had been fashioned by Halsin, and several of the stools you kept as well. It was his hobby and his form of relief, to create things with his hands. Subconsciously, you glanced down to where the hands in question rested on his knees; large and rough, his hands had seen it all and done it all through his 300 plus years of life, and you couldn't help but quietly admire how much they had learned and lost in the process. And after all of that, he chose to create beauty with those hands that knew so much. It made your heart clench with a new wave of affection. You swallowed hard, as if the feelings would force their way back down in the same way as the contents of your bowl. 

Again, you were drawn back from your reverie by the Druid's movements, one of his hands moving from his lap to yours. His palm came down to rest flat on your thigh, only a thin layer of fabric left to separate the blazing heat from your skin. You barely suppressed a gasp of surprise at the sudden contact, feeling much more intimate than it probably was, and locked eyes with Halsin, whose brow was worried into wrinkles. "You seem more distant than usual, are you sure you're alright?" He said, his thumb taking a slow drag across your leg, sending your poor heart racing in your chest. 

"Yes," you managed to respond, rather breathlessly. "I- I'm alright." Even you weren't convinced by your attempt at deflection, and Halsin's frown only deepened. 

"When you've finished your stew, come find me by my tent. I will have some healing herbs waiting for you." He said sternly and you nodded silently. His eyes softened at your wide-eyed expression and he reached up to gingerly tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "Promise me you will come." He murmured quietly, his eyes never leaving yours, and your heart stuttered wildly in your chest. 

"I promise." You replied, and a soft smile graced his lips. He nodded in return and stood up, brushing himself off before walking back towards his tent. 

"Gods," you muttered under your breath, pressing your palm to your chest in an effort to keep your pounding heart inside. 

"You've been given the perfect opportunity, darling." A voice chimed lyrically behind you, and you turned your head to find Astarion eyeing you appreciatively. "Don't waste it." He grinned widely, putting his fangs on display as he did so. 

"Shut up, Astarion." You mumbled, your face heating as you pressed your hands over your eyes. You only hoped you wouldn't make a fool of yourself. 

fin

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #halsin silverbough #halsin bg3 #bg3 halsin #halsin #baldur's gate 3 halsin #baldur's gate halsin #halsin x reader #halsin x tav #halsin x f!reader #halsin x f!tav #halsin x plus size reader #halsin x plus size f!reader #unsolicited affections

[princeoftheeternalbog]

hiii

Could do nicknames one peice characters would call you?? Xx

I love you🫶 YES I WILL TEEHEE

Suggestive in Sanji and Namis part but mostly sfw!

I only did the strawhats this time but without further ado: petnames/nicknames op characters call you🫶

Luffy

I think Luffy would pick something really cute like flower, like in the morning when he tackles you out of your hammock to wake you up and he's like "GOODMORNING FLOWER :DDDD" while squishing you(😐).

OR he would refer to your future title aka consort of the pirate king(cocky mf). Even if you correct him like oh well you're not king of the pirates yet he just keeps saying 'but why can't I say it now' until you give up. LOVES when you call him my king or my sunshine, it makes him feel all gooey inside. He likes other nicknames too but those ones especially.

Zoro

Surprisingly a classic sort of guy, he'll call you hun or love, mostly always in private. But if he thinks someone is bothering you he'll purposefully say it really loudly like "oh hey LOVE I was looking for you" while glaring at the person.

Always says it in the softest, sweetest tone when you're alone. Seriously he's like some romance drama lead the way he's sighing around the word when he's holding you close. Blushes so pretty when you call him a petname back even if it's the most cringey, disgusting petname like pookie wookie. Like he'll cringe but still blush.

Sanji

Probably uses almost every name you can think of but especially darling, mon amour and sweetheart. Says them in every tone imaginable and he says them in a very specific way when you're alone, sometimes he'll say them that way in public to fluster you though (asshole🫶).

Jokes on him though because he folds really easily for the same trick. One time you said baby in that tone on deck and he tripped and fell over so... you're the real winner here. He likes to act very confident and he can be but he very often finds himself with wobbly legs around you- he can't help it you're just too fine.

Usopp

Babylove, sweetheart, pretty thing, YES I KNOW OKAY LISTEN JUST HEAR ME OUT- I just think once he gets over the honeymoon phase and he's comfy then he's smooth as fuck. Like this man is fine okay and once he knows what hes doing, he KNOWS yk. Always says them directly in your ear though🫣, he's still too shy to look you in the face while saying that sort of thing. Like he's slick but he's also sweating and trembling while he romances you.

Also he absolutely blushes bright red when you say anything of the sort to him. One 'hey pretty boy' and it's over for his blood pressure, one time he fainted and he was so embarrassed that he avoided being alone with you for a week.

Nami

Sunshine and treasure(in like every single language she can think of). Either says it in the sweetest tone ever or the most scary and she never uses your name unless she's really really scared or relieved (or during the...thing).

LOVES any and every nickname but if you say something cringe in front of somebody she makes you pay a fee😭. Fr 200 berry just for you to call her shnookems in front of Chopper, its mostly because the cringy nicknames somehow make her feel shy like omg you love me enough to confidently call me cuddle muffin ಥ⁠_⁠ಥ how disgusting (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾). But also she uses this money to buy you little gifts and trinkets so can you complain(yes).

Robin

Love, honey or sweetheart. Says it in this cute little sing song voice you didn't know she had and it's just so sweet and enticing fr she got you floating over there like a sailor drowning to a siren's song. But seriously if she's using a petname then you know she's in a really affectionate mood which means lots of touching and kisses!

Her favourite nickname that you call her is 'my wife'. Listen I think she's secretly quite intense romantically so hearing you defend her to someone by going "THAT'S MY WIFE" really does something to her heart. She tries for ages to trick you into saying it again so she can record it and listen back whenever she wants(You give her a recording for her birthday).

Franky

Babe, baby, cutie and probably something really corny like superstar🫶. Definitely the type of person to holler "THATS MY BABY✨✨" while you're kicking someone's ass and it's really embarrassing but simultaneously really reassuring.

And tbh a nickname is usually followed by a kiss, well actually most of his interactions with you are followed by a kiss- Anyways he loves it when you call him one back especially those classic ones like my love or darling, fr he's obsessed. Will absolutely tell everyone what you just called him and if he ever gets hit on he says some stupid dramatic shit like: "Only one person will ever call me their love..." Like shut up😭.

Brook

Dearheart. Iykyk. He finds dearheart is the only petname that even slightly encompass how he feels about you, and besides that he's a very classic guy. ALWAYS kisses some part of you after he says it, usually you're forehead because he's quite tall but sometimes he kisses your hand like some fairytale prince.

Blushes really easily at being called pet names especially more modern ones like baby, gently chides you for it but secretly loves it. It's like those clips of chopper where he pretends he's not flattered by a compliment😭 Brook is fr like "Oh my- please don't call me such things in public" while he's giggling like this:

Jinbei

Love, butterfly, starlight, dewdrop and anything that makes you flustered. He's secretly quite chaotic when he wants to be and he loves seeing you laugh so he tries to make you as happy as possible at all times. Despite how often he uses beautiful flowery language with you, he's quite shy with physical touch so he's stood like 6ft away going "My starlight you are prettier than anything in this world"😭.

Adores any pet name with the word my in front of it. Like my love, my baby, my man, he's just in love with you and he thinks he should be kissing you at all times! Sweetest man ever to be honest.

#one piece x reader #x reader #luffy x reader #nami x reader #nico robin x reader #sanji x reader #usopp x reader #zoro x reader #brook x reader #jinbei x reader #jimbei x reader #franky x reader #op headcanons #op fic #one piece x gn reader #one piece fics

[bedsyandco]

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

🫧 — {fem!bsf!reader x dad!brock boeser}

🫧 — my first time writing for brock!! I hope you like it, as always feedback is appreciated !!

🫧 — in which your Brock’s best friend and the lines are blurry because you act like more both to him and his son.

🫧 — content: sfw, a little person, fluff

🫧 — wc: 2.35K

You were staring out the window, watching the raindrops slide down the glass of your coffee shop. The place was buzzing with people only minutes earlier, everyone wanting a hot drink to shield them from the stretch of bad weather that impacted the city these last few days, although that’s quite normal this time of the year. The buzz had died down and you were grateful since you just cleaned the floor, and didn’t look forward to having to do it again if someone else entered through the door with their wet shoes, the welcome mat at the entrance seeming to not do its job very effectively.

Your attention quickly shifted when you heard your phone ring and grabbed it out of your back pocket, heart beating a little faster when you saw who was calling.

“Vancouver Academy Preschool”

You had spent hours teasing Brock about how uptight this school sounded. It was preschool for crying out loud, and both you and Brock went to public school and turned out just fine, but he wasn’t budging. Only the very best for his boy. You didn’t feel a single trace of amusement seeing the name now though, only anxious as to why they could be calling.

“Good Afternoon, is this Brooks’ mom, YN speaking?” a woman's voice echoes over the speaker.

“Uh- that’s me but I’m not-”

“Oh thank goodness, we weren’t able to get in contact with his father, I’m glad I could at least reach one of his parents.” she continues, interrupting you before you could correct her that you weren’t Brooks’ mom. Brock was still at the rink, that’s probably why he wasn’t answering. “I’m Brooks’ teacher and I’m calling because there was an accident at school today and we were wondering if you would be able to come pick Brooks up from school?”

Your throat constricts a little at what she's saying, not being able to comprehend the words Brooks and accident in one sentence. “An accident? What accident? Is he hurt?” you ask frantically, questions flying one after the other.

“He’s perfectly fine ma’am. He had a little fall and bumped his head. There was a little scratch but we had our school nurse clean it up and check him out, but we thought since there were only a few hours left of school anyway and he seemed a bit upset, it may be better if he just went home for the day.”

Your eyes flickered to the clock on the wall, seeing that it was only noon. You had another four hours to work at most, but you also knew that Brock probably wasn’t going to see the school’s messages before then and you couldn’t leave Brooks at school until then. The thought of him hurt and upset was enough to make you remove the apron from your waist and say, “I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

“Sounds serious,” you hear from your left seeing Lydia, one of your waitresses standing there.

“It was Brooks’ school. I need to go pick him up. I know it was your day to leave early but do you think you can stay until closing time? If you really can’t we’ll just close up early today,” you ramble, moving to grab your coat and searching for your keys.

“Of course, don’t even worry about it, I’ll close up.�� she says

“I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t even try to apologise. You do what you need to for your kids, I get that.” and she did. Having two kids of her own.

“I know but he’s not even really mine. Not biologically at least. It’s not the same and I know this was your Friday to leave early,” you say remorsefully.

“Stop that. He’s yours in every way that matters. If I’ve ever seen anyone be a mom to that little boy, it’s you.” she says and your eyes sting a little and you have to blink up at the ceiling for a minute to stop them from falling.

“Thank you. I owe you one, I’ll see you Monday?” you ask and make your way out the door when she nods.

How you ended up in this situation, you honestly had no idea. It hadn’t been your intention to end up having your name registered as a parental contact. But you did feel an immense sense of warmth that Brock trusted you enough to do it.

Brock had been your friend for many years, and when Brooks came into the world, he only brought you closer. You would have never wished for Brooks’ mom to abandon him and Brock, and you would forever hold resentment in your heart for her because of that, but it did create a hole in their lives that you had somehow filled.

When you pull into the parking lot at Brooks’ school, you clench the steering wheel tightly and let out a big breath, releasing all the confusing thoughts about your role in Brooks’ life and the confusing relationship you had with his father. One day maybe you’d address those thoughts, but today isn’t that day.

You step out of the car, pulling your coat tighter around you to shield from the cold and take a little jog up to the front entrance. The receptionist immediately glanced up when you entered and sent you a quick smile.

“Hi I’m here to pick up Brooks Boeser,” you say and her eyes widened significantly, looking a lot more interested when she heard that last name and called through to the classroom. That almost would have been amusing had you not been preoccupied by your nerves about Brooks. You knew Brock paid a lot of big donations and checks that ensured him and Brooks were treated well here, and it looked like that treatment extended to you.

A door buzzes open and through comes Brooks, his hands tightly clasped on the straps of his backpack, his feet shuffling against the ground.

His eyes were red, cheeks flushed, a little bandaid on his forehead where you assumed the little scratch was. As he neared you his eyes teared up and the bottom lip started to wobble.

“Yn!” he yells, picking up his pace when he sees you and tripping into your legs, wrapping his arms around them.

“Oh my little love, did you get hurt?” You ask bending down and pushing his hair away from his forehead and gently running your fingers over the bandaid, as he nods.

“What exactly happened?” you ask his teacher who was only standing a few feet away observing the interaction.

“Brooks was playing outside with a friend and when he came back inside his shoes were wet and he ran, slipped and fell. He hit his head against a table and there’s a little scrape but as I said on the phone our nurse checked him out and he seems to be just fine. I can contact the nurse to talk with you if you’d like” the teacher says 

“That won’t be necessary, I trust that everything was handled as it should be,” you say in a tone suggesting that anything else would be ridiculous since Brock spends so much money on this school.

“Brooks was so excited when he found out his mom was coming to get him,” his teacher redirects the conversation and you smile tightly at her, that word causing your throat to squeeze tightly.

You squeeze Brooks tightly, the little boy still clinging to you as if his life depended on it. You pick him up, throwing his bag over your shoulder and making your way to the door when the teacher holds it open for you.

“Thank you,” you say politely and she smiles back at you.

“Have a good weekend. I’ll see you on Monday Brooks,” she says as you make your way to your car.

When Brooks is tightly secured in his car seat and you’ve let the car warm up a bit, you make your way to the arena.

“Wanna go visit daddy at work?” you ask Brooks, reaching back and squeezing his foot when you reach a red light.

“Yes!” he yells and you smile at his excitement.

“He’ll be happy to see you,” you say, focusing your attention back on the road.

“Happy to see you too,” Brooks replies and you glance at him in the mirror seeing a teasing little smile on that face.

“You think so?” you ask and he nods

“Uncle Petey told dad he’s happiest when he sees you,” Brooks says matter of factly

“Have you been listening to your dad’s conversations again?” you ask and he smiles guiltily

“No. They thought I was sleeping,” he admits softly and you smile, shaking your head at him. He’s sneaky. 

“Do you love my daddy?” Brooks asks and you swallow thickly thinking about it for a second. You knew Brooks was going to be asking about your friendship with his dad sooner or later, you’d just hoped it was later and that Brock was the one being asked.

You didn’t know how to say it without giving Brooks the wrong idea, and you definitely didn’t need him running back to his dad and telling him about your feelings for him. You weren’t entirely sure Brock was over what happened with Brooks’ mom. You didn’t think he was in love with her, but the way she just left and abandoned both of them still had an effect on Brock. He still hadn’t gone back to dating even after all these years. 

“Of course I love your dad. He’s my best friend in the whole world.” you tell him and he smiles happily.

“Do you think my dad is pretty?” Brooks asks curiously 

“He’s very pretty, just like you,” you say to Brock’s mini-me.

“My dad thinks you’re pretty too. He told uncle Quinny while you were making noodles,” Brooks says, referring to a few days ago when you cooked pasta for Brock and a few guys at his place.

“Are you two going to get married?” Brooks asks and you nearly swerve off the road.

“What made you have that idea?” you ask more calmly than you feel

“A girl in my class said that if two people love each other and think they’re pretty, they get married,” Brooks explains

“It’s a bit more complicated than that bud,” you say gently, relieved as you finally pull up to the arena.

You walk into the arena, Brooks’ hand clasped tightly in yours and wait in a little room you were directed to while someone called for Brock. You were sitting on a couch, Brooks cuddled up in your lap when Brock finally entered the room, closing the door behind him. Brock observed the two of you for a second, a strange emotion clouding his face. 

“Dad! Look, I have a scratch on my head!” he says as you stand up and walk towards Brock, Brooks still on your hip. 

Brock’s panicked eyes find yours before brushing Brooks’ hair away so he could inspect the little scratch more carefully, his other hand falls to your waist, pulling both of you close.

“He had a little fall, scraped his head, he’s okay. I took care of it,” you reassure him, and Brock’s shoulders relax a little bit.

Brock nods, pressing a kiss to Brooks’ forehead before moving to kiss your cheek, and your breath hitches at the intimate gesture. Brock had always been affectionate but lately he’s been doing a lot more often and openly. 

“I’m gonna go grab my stuff, I’ll be back in a sec. Do you need anything?” Brock asks, his hand caressing the skin at your waist lightly.

“No, we’re fine. Go finish up,” you say and he smiles, giving you both a peck again before leaving the room again. 

Later that day when you’ve got Brooks passed out in his bed, Brock joins you in the living room taking a seat on the couch, sitting as close to you as he can without actually touching you.

Brock leans his head back, letting out a trembling breath. 

“He’s okay Brock. It’s just a little scratch. You know that if I suspected he wasn’t okay I would’ve taken him to-”

“I know. It’s just that you shouldn’t have to. It’s my job to take care of him and I wasn’t there.” Brock says and you sigh, moving even close to him.

“Look at me,” you insist softly, and he does, his gaze so incredibly soft and fond it makes your heart feel like it’s going to burst.

“You’re a great dad Brock. You love that little boy so much, and he knows it. You’re doing the best that you can and it’s okay to ask for help sometimes.” you say and his hand falls to your upper thigh, caressing it softly.

“It’s not fair to you,” he argues

“I love that little guy and there’s nothing I love more than taking care of him. Of both of you.” you say and Brock looks at you for a moment.

“I love you,” he confesses and you can feel a ball forming in your throat.

“I love you too,” you reply and Brock shakes his head.

“No, I love you. I’m in love with you. I always have been” 

“Brock-”

“I can never bring myself to regret being with Brooks’ mom. You weren’t available back then and I was convinced you never would be, but somehow your ex managed to mess it up and you were single and I was so happy because I was finally gonna get my shot. And then Brooks happened and I love that kid to death, so I could never ever regret it, but it’s always been you.” he says softly, framing your face with both hands and kissing you softly. 

“This family isn’t complete without you. I hope you know that.” Brock says, gently caressing your face when he pulls away. 

“Will you stay the night?” he asks and you smile.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” you answer, and a few weeks later all your things were in that house, knowing you were never leaving again. 

#brock boeser fic #brock boeser x reader #brock boeser imagine #brock boeser x yn

[multifan2022]

Fearless 6

PART 1 PART 5

Masterlist

"The first thing you will learn today is how to shoot a gun. The second thing is how to win a fight." Your voice rang out through the shooting range, as Four passed guns out to each person. You caught the way Tris tried desperately to make eye contact with him. Trying to not feel satisfaction when he didn't look her way. "Thankfully, if you are here, you already know how to get on and off a moving train, so I don't need to teach you that."

Christina chuckled a little before looking your way, "Can you teach us the tuck and roll? It was flawless." You blushed slightly at the praise, something you weren't use to. You nodded and laughed a little "You will all develop your own way of getting on and off without completely fucking yourself up over time. IF you pass, so stay focused." 

"Initiation is divided into three stages. We will measure your progress and rank you according to your performance in each stage. The stages are not weighed equally in determining your final rank, so it is possible, though difficult, to drastically improve your rank over time."

You watch Four as he stops behind Peter, a gun in his own hand, the same one everyone in the room is holding. "We believe that preparation eradicates cowardice, which we define as the failure to act in the midst of fear," says Four. "Therefore each stage of initiation is intended to prepare you in a different way. The first stage is primarily physical; the second, primarily emotional; the third, primarily mental."

"But what..." Peter yawns through his words. "What does firing a gun have to do with...bravery?" Four flips the gun in his hand, presses the barrel to Peter's forehead, and clicks a bullet into place. Peter freezes with his lips parted, the yawn dead in his mouth. "Wake. Up," Four snaps. "You are holding a loaded gun, you idiot. Act like it."

He lowers the gun. Once the immediate threat is gone, Peter's green eyes harden. You dont even try to hold in the laughter that bursts from your lips at his face. You were sure if the gun had been pressed any longer he would've shit himself. You only laugh harder when his cheeks turn bright red. 

"To answer your question...you are far less likely to soil your pants and cry for your mother if you are prepared to defend yourself." Four stops walking at the end of the row and turns on his heel. "This is also information you may need later in stage one. So, watch Y/n." When he turns back to you, he winks before walking to lean against the wall next too you. 

You face the wall with the targets on it—one square of plywood with three red circles on it. You stand perpendicular to the target with your feet roughly shoulder width apart. Holding the gun in both hands, and fires.

 The bang is so loud it should hurt your ears but they are dead to the noise now. "For a right handed shooter, the left hand holds the forestock, elbow pointing down. The right hand holds the grip, elbow pointing out, but not exaggerated." You explain while demonstrating what you mean. 

You turn and fire a few more times, each time just making the hole at the center bigger. All their heads crane to look at your target, most in awe, while Peter just looks more pissed. "Its your turn, Four and I will be around to fix stances and answer questions... As long as they arent stupid." You say looking directly at Peter and then with a small smile at Christina. 

Watching Tris try to shoot is.. painful. She has almost emptied the clip and hasn't hit the target once. While you're in a terrific mood (wonder why) you know she will grate against that. As you walk towards them you hear Will, the Erudite boy speaking too her. "Statistically speaking,you should have hit the target at least once by now, even by accident." He is blond, with shaggy hair and a crease between his eyebrows. 

Hes struggling enough as is, he doesn't need to be correcting anyone. "Is that so?" You say sarcastically as you step between them. You lean to the side and look at his target, which he has only hit once. Looking back to him you try to keep your voice flat, it doesn't work but you tried. "Maybe you should worry about your own target kid.." 

His ears turn pink on the egdes before he turns back, Tris shoots one last time catching the end of the target.. Barley. 

She turns back to him with a smug look on her face, "Guess I got it". You scoff but before you can speak Will says "So you see, I'm right. The stats don't lie." Again you scoff, this time rubbing the muscle that connects your shoulder to your neck. 

"Will.. Sweetheart... Your Erudite is showing.. Tuck it away for me quick yeah?" You say before turning your back to him and clapping your hands together once. "Tris.. You hit the target once.. Barley hit the target once.. If that was a person it would barely qualify as a flesh wound. Depending on how big their clothes are it wouldn't even be a flesh wound.. Do NOT get cocky. Do something half ass right because your angry does not mean anything." 

Walking away from the two you can feel her eyes on you. When you look ahead Four is staring back at her, you roll your eyes before addressing the group. "In the field, the chances that you will be angry are slim. It is more likely that you will be scared, nervous or anxious. None of that should matter as a Dauntless. Your bravery and courage should overshadow everything. So when you do something in anger and it somehow comes out correct, don't take it seriously."

"Take it seriously when you can pick up any weapon and use it as an extension of yourself.  Guns, swords, bow staff.. A metal pipe you find laying around, you need to be able to pack everything besides your job and your life away." You look around refusing to look at Four again, when you see that they all have finished the ammo that has been provided you dismiss them for lunch.

 You take your lunch break in Toris chair, the stinging sensation of your new tattoo present as the ink sinks around your thigh. Tori chuckles and rolls her eyes as you roll to your stomach to get it finished. Some would be ashamed, laying here in your underwear but not you. The finger bruises on your thigh bring you nothing but joy. 

"So.. you and Four still going with this whole friends with benefits thing?" Tori asked while lining everything up. When the buzzing restarted it stung a little more than normal, due to the tenderness of your flesh. You nod and close your eyes allowing yourself a small moment of peace before having to deal with Eric who you know will be at training. 

"I dont see why you two dont just admit you have feelings for each other and get together. Spare us all the long drawn out drama." You smile at Toris bluntness, she always has such a way with her words. 

"My feelings aren't the only ones in this scenario, we both know Four doesn't like me like that. I'm just enjoying it while it lasts." You wait while Tori wipes your leg down, before standing up and handing you the shorts that will now be covering very little of your legs.

Tori looks at you incredulously "That boy has just as many feelings for you as you do him. Your both stupid. But I will be here, the ever wise old lady to hold your hands through whatever drama you both cause."   

You laugh again, feeling free for the first time in a week. The feeling is fleeting though as Tori opens her mouth and asks "How is Tris?" Your face falls and you sigh loudly, "Shes making it hard. She cant walk one line, one minute shes practically hiding behind the others begging to not be seen. Then the next shes in Fours face yelling. She cant shoot but when she clipped the edge of the target she acted like she got a bullseye first shot. I don't know how to deal with her if I'm honest. Im not Tori Wu." 

The dark haired woman in front of you steps up and cups your cheeks. "You are strong Y/n, you can do this. You have too. I don't know what but something is happening, you need to be prepared for it." 

After answering a few more of her questions, all about the new girl you tell her you need to go. Really you needed to go ten minutes ago, but who's counting?? 

When you step into the gym you take a breath to apologize for being late. But when you see Four pressed up behind Tris, his fingers pressed against her stomach as he 'instructs' her you stay quiet. Instead just making your way through the punching bags watching. Stopping only to correct Al's stance, without touching him, before walking away. 

Your showing your weakness by caring so much for him. That voice crows in your head as you keep walking. At this point you've been there a half an hour and Four hasn't noticed. When you stop next to Christina you can feel Tris's eyes burning into the back of your head. "You're doing everything right besides how you're making a fist." 

Christina stops looking down at her hands before releasing her fingers and looking back at you. You smile and congratulate her in your head, if shes silent that means shes learning. Just as you hold your hand up to show her how you want her to do it you hear Tris mumble 'How many ways are there to make a fist?' 

Taking a calming breath you slip into work mode. The mode that sets you apart from the others, the one with no feelings, no worries. Just a solid perfect work ethic. "Your wrapping your thumb around the end of your hand leaving it straight when it should be down. Wrapped over the first knuckle of your pointer finger." 

Showing  her what you mean, you watch her do it and see the annoyed look on her face. You laugh a little before continuing "I know its uncomfortable, but I promise dislocating or breaking your thumb is a lot worse. Plus once it becomes a habit you wont even think about it." You catch a few other students fixing their mistakes around you, which is encouraging. 

"Next your stance is pretty good, but I prefer having a more solid base. You stand squarely facing your target, then drop the foot on your dominant side back and out to an angle, 30 maybe 40 degrees. You should keep your feet a comfortable distance apart, but the exact difference is a matter of personal preference. Some people are taller and can keep their legs further apart like myself. But your on the shorter side so you'll want to be closer." 

The entire time you speak to her you show her with your body how to move. That small voice in the back of your mind is screaming about how you can teach without touching them. How that means Four wanted to touch her, he never touches people. You keep talking over it, trying to be the perfect teacher. Trying to show yourself why you are here. 

"Now the last and most fun part." By this point over half the class is listening to you. Four has stopped walking around and is just watching you teach, but you're studiously ignoring him.

 "The first thing to remember is that the punch should go straight forward, rather than out to the side. The idea is to send your fist out and bring it right back to its original position, with as little extraneous motion as possible.If you flare your arm out, like in the movies, your target will have plenty of time to avoid or block the strike—and you're going to leave yourself wide open to getting a punch in your own face."

"The full punch motion stems from turning your hips." After demonstrating again you watch as Christina does it, smiling at her and offering her a high five. You turn to watch the others and feel pride bloom in your chest as they all start performing the task correctly. 

"Good job Tina.. Peter, Al and Will.. You are all doing well. Keep it up, that's how we work our way up the board." You saw the shock on everyone's face as you congratulated Peter, but you needed to be as unbiased in the 'classroom' as you could. If he failed it wasn't going to be said that you had it out for him. 

You were not going to tarnish your reputation, because of some spoiled brat whose parents told him he was better than others. He would fuck up, and you would be there to catch him. But until then you have to do your best to treat everyone equally. Even Tris. 

After ten more minutes you dismiss them for the night. Reminding them when they need to be in their dorms and not to go out without someone. You make your way out in front of the group, still trying to avoid what is sure to be an awkward conversation with Four.

~

~

~

~

@coolestgirlhere @everydayisordinary @hannahbeezz @cat-lockwood @parkmiraesworld @leclerc13

Boring part, sorry guys! Ill try harder on the next chapter!

#tobias eaton x reader #four eaton #four x reader #divergent #divergent fanfiction #tobias eaton

[bouncybongfairy]

Not A Peep

Simon (Ghost) Riley x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: You're a medic on Task Force 141 and Ghost finds out you have a thing for him when you get flustered stitching him up. Once you guys get back to the barracks, he fucks your throat under a desk.

Word Count: 1.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Dom Ghost, Face Fucking, Rough Smut, BJ Under Desk

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was easy to separate yourself from all the stories being told while studying to be a combat medic. Tales about women falling for soldiers and then being immortally traumatized from watching the war take its effect on him. Whether it be emotionally or physically, the horror stories were gruesome. One teacher talked about how she had to treat her fiance after he’d been shot in the arm, apparently it fucked her up for a while. In a way, you would mock the fact that anyone would put themselves in that situation. Falling in love with someone with such a high risk job. It seemed like common sense not to put your heart on the line, especially when it could affect your job. 

That was until I met Simon and you started to understand that those wives tales weren’t so far fetched. The two of you didn’t talk much but it always felt like there was so much tension. Constantly making eye contact, becoming flustered and tongue tied whenever he spoke to you. Avoiding him when you could, not liking the feeling of your heart racing when you did. He held so much emotion in his eyes, like he was projecting his thoughts through eye contact. On a recent mission, a bullet brushed past the area above his hip bone; creating a laceration that needed stitches. Barding into the tent and pulling his pants down and shedding his gear.

 Immediately you get on your knees, pulling everything you needed to treat him out of your tactical vest. Looking up just before starting the first stitch, he was already looking down at you. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes were narrowed onto you. Blood was running down, trailing down the contour of his v-line. Hands started shaking slightly, especially as he started to moan and curse in pain. Even though you were fully aware his reaction was from discomfort, you couldn’t but imagine if it… wasn’t. 

He was watching you like a hawk, swiveling his head to watch you whenever you grabbed gauze. All hope that he didn’t notice you acting flustered was ditched when you started feeling dizzy, swaying a little. He grabbed your arm to prevent you from falling, your partner taking over. Now back in the barracks, you took a long hot shower. Trying to figure out why you got so in your head, the water began to run cold. Prompting you to get out and get dressed, walking back into your room. Ghost who was stripped of gear, laying back on the bed supporting his weight with his elbows. 

“Do you need me to redress that for you?” you asked, assuming he was waiting to see you about his wound. 

“No. Do you need me to undress you?” he asked, sitting up. 

“I- What?” you asked, taken off guard. 

“Do you. Need me to. Undress you?” he asked slower, like you were too dumb to answer the question. 

“I don’t understand-” you began saying. 

“No no, I saw you today. The way your eyes widened when you were on your knees in front of me. The desperation and neediness was so potent I could practically smell it on you. I could have taken you right there if I wanted, forced myself into your throat. So hot and bothered you couldn’t even do your job, I consume your thoughts. Don’t act like I don’t” he said, backing you against the desk that was in the corner. 

“I don’t-” he interrupted. 

“Wanna say something you regret,” he said, running his thumb over your bottom lip. Dipping it into your mouth, feeling around to see your reaction, “I think it safe to say that if you didn’t want my cock, you wouldn’t be sucking my finger like a whore. Would you?” he asks, you shake your head and in response he gives you a sharp smack on the cheek.

“Would you?” he asks again, giving you a chance to correct your answer. 

“Yes sir,” you say, melting at the way he looked at you. 

“Good girl, get under the desk.” He said, which you did without hesitation. 

He unzipped his fly, struggling for a second to free his member but finally got there. Sitting down in the office chair, rolling into the small space under the desk. Completely trapping you inside the small space. No longer being able to see above his shoulders, not that it mattered when his cock was right in front of you. Every time your lips finally encased his tip, he would use his hand and pull it away. You reach up and try to take his length into your hand. His voice booming through the room as he pulls away a couple inches to look you in the eyes. 

“Put your fucking hand down, you haven’t done anything to deserve it,” he said, scooting back in, using his hand to guide your head down. 

After all the teasing, the feelings of his cock pushing past your lips felt like heaven. Ever since you met him all you could think about was him ravaging you. Using your body for whatever he wanted. A loud groan coming from the back of your throat, his other hand was stroking your cheek. Slowly starting to push your head down further, you gagged which made him chuckle. 

“Fuck, I knew i’d eventually have you gagging around my dick,” he cooed, letting his head fall back. You looked up, now being able to see his exposed jawline. Reaching your hand down and starting to play with yourself. Spreading your wetness around and circling your clit. Moaning as drool and pre-cum started sliding down his shaft. He grabbed your hair and starting to fuck your mouth. His eyes were rolling back, feeling feral hearing the wet slobbering and slapping sounds. There was a knock at the door which made you squeal and try to pull away. 

“Shhhhh!” He hisses before clearing his throat and answering the door. However just before he does, he presses your head down, applying pressure with both hands on the back of your head. Forcing your lips all the way down to the base of his cock. 

“Yeah!” he yelled, Soap opened the door but remained in the doorway. 

“Have you seen y/n? We have training soon,” Soap asked while you were digging your fingernails into his boots, swallowing around his length which hurt slightly.

“Yeah, I think she went to get some fresh air,” Ghost said, stars were forming in your vision. Soap thanked him and promptly exited and Ghost finally let you pull back. Gasping for air and wiping the tears out of your eyes. He moaned as the cold air hit his dick just after getting used to your hot throat. 

“That’s a good girl, just breathe. Yeah, you’re a such a good fucking girl,” he snarled and pulled you back down on you. 

He stood up and balled his fist in your hair, and pinning his hands onto the top of the desk. Essentially locking you into place and he obliterated your throat. Making sure your nose was pressed into his base with every thrust. Not bothering to pull his cock out as he started came. Warm cum flooding down your throat and into your stomach. He pulled out, not wasting any time putting his dick away. You rested your upper body on the now empty chair that sat in front of you. Ghost squatted down and grabbed your wet chin to look up at him before speaking, 

“Firstly, you should thank me for feeding you before training. Secondly, I didn’t make you cum because you left scratch marks on my boot,” he said, walking out of the room.

#rough smut #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #ghost smut #simon ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction

[turtleblogatlast]

after finding out he's trans from Draxum, Leo drops the news to his family with a joke and zero explication. The family wants to be a supportive as possible, but misunderstand and think that Leo just came out as transfem. The fact they didn't even consider Leo is biofem is surprisingly validating.

“Guess who just gave a new meaning to to word trans-portation!”

This is the first thing Leo says to everyone after going off with Draxum to who-knows-where for who-knows-what.

“Normally, I unfortunately understand the flow of logic for Leo’s puns, but I admit that I am blanking here.” Donnie says, looking at Leo with narrowed eyes.

Leo laughs - maybe a bit hysterically - as he saunters on over to the rest of his family. “Eh, just a little joke about my awesome portal powers mixed with- uh-“ He coughs into his fist, finding it difficult to keep his regular act up. “-a fab new finding about myself. Turns out I was born…a female turtle……?”

There’s silence for a moment.

Then- “Omigosh! Leo!” An orange blur rockets its way into Leo’s arms, making the slider let out and “oof” before steading both he and Mikey. “Thank you for telling us! Wait, is it still Leo? Or Lea now, maybe?”

The shock wheels its way out of Raph’s form as he comes over, eyes shiny, “I’m glad you told us, little sis.”

Leo blinks at them. “Wait-“

“Please note that if any of our enemies or allies refers to you incorrectly I can and will use deadly force to correct them.” Donnie states, with a grin that looked a little too excited about the idea.

“Same here!” April states, pounding one hand into another, “And- it’s cool to have another girl around.”

Leo thinks something got lost in translation. “Uh, guys-“

Splinter comes up to his side, patting his arm gently. “Oh, my Baby Blue, I’m so proud of you, my daught-“

“Okay, no, no, you guys got it wrong.” Leo laughs again, more uncomfortably than hysterically this time. “I’m- I’m not, like, a girl. I was-“ He looks away, feeling way too embarrassed about all this for his comfort, “I was born as a female turtle. Biologically.”

A beat.

“Oh.” Raph blinks down at him, surprise on his face, “Oh we may have jumped the gun there.”

“Well, this is embarrassing, though my offer of violence stands.” Donnie states.

Mikey rubs the back of his head sheepishly, “So…still Leo? Our brother?”

Leo gives a fond grin, “Yeah, yeah, still your brother.”

(April makes a noise of amusement, elbowing Splinter as everyone turns to her, “Hey, y’know what Splints? I think your DNA may have accidentally became some kinda HRT for Leo.”

Donnie thinks, “It does make sense, if a female red eared slider were to become mutated with a male human’s DNA then hypothetically it could create a mutant that takes on a more masculine outer appearance while retaining the female make up that was used as the base-“

Leo cuts in, “Okay, okay, no science-ing my gender, bro, let’s just order some pizza.”)

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt leo #trans leo #writing blurb ask

[schwarzkatje]

ellie hates you. part 2

a/n: gosh i sure hope you like it depraved. go here for part 1

"fucking coward".

yeah. that pretty much sums up how ellie feels about herself.

"stupid fucking coward".

correction. guess the list just goes on.

the way she had just stormed out of your cabin after eating you out like she had never done to any other girl and after having set her intentions straight, was more than enough material to earn herself such a title.

and by the way, what had her plan been exactly, mh? humiliate you? perhaps, even hoping for some kind of disgust elicited in you? maybe... a little resistance? she had hoped you would have loathed it and instead she got an hungry kitten in heat with moans too high pitched to forget and a pussy so creamy she regrets not having slapped it to see some droplets of juice spurting.

the more she spirals down the black hole that is you, the more she is torn between the overlapping of the ever so present series of events that just occurred, and those which she swears is willing to feed her pride to the first demon she would summon to have them happen.

if only she hadn't been such a pathetic hypocrite, that is.

thus, there she lied. on her bed, alone, with your taste infiltrating her mouth and all her other senses as though you involuntarily tormenting ellie during every goddamn second of her daily life and routine was news.

she had fucked up so bad. so, so fucking bad. for this reason, she may as well let everything go downhill and dance on her own shattered pride and dignity.

with the first hand that responded her instincts, ellie finds herself massaging her crotch through her boxers. closing her eyes adds to the depravity, and thus she goes for it.

her scent is palpable, so much so that her wetness pales in comparison to the strong force with which it hits ellie's nostrils.

and certainly her mind doesn't sit back and let the sheer sensations do all the work. not when it is the most efficient and powerful and filthy tool ellie has.

with such a rotted brain she wastes no more than two seconds to recall how you had sobbed wetly, lips recollecting what was left of your sanity with the sole purpose to beg ellie to keep going, to keep on licking you, to continue her punishment.

but not only that. as ellie discards her underwear and draws confused circles on her clit, she furiously squints her eyes, as though this would accelerate the process of creating even more mental images of you.

and that is how ellie starts tracing the outline of a draft for the continuation of before, once that never happened because of her cowardice. a continuation which involves ellie raising to her feet, flipping you over the counter while hoisting one of your legs to have your pretty hole spread beyond shame.

a scenario full of hair pulling, spanking and even more tears, even more degrading words to which you nod because deep down you know how much of a dirty slut you are and how you need a woman like ellie to remind you your place.

an imaginary alternative to the past that has ellie taking full advantage of your overexposed position to let her own pussy collided against yours, perfectly taking in the shape of one another.

her own clit screaming to meet yours again and again and again until it becomes impossible to distinguish which one of you is closer to madness.

despair is ellie's primary driving force and the responsible for her brutal grip on you hips, deprived of free movement and obliged to follow her pace, the one ellie oh so lucidly wanted to maintain then and there.

her clit doesn't stop fucking your pussy from behind and you can't decide if what is making you roll your eyes the most is when the throbbing bud meets its twin or when it almost gives the illusion of penetrating your moist hole.

ellie will have to wait for another masturbation session to decide how you are going to act and which one of the two options is making you come undone in her fantasy because she is now convulsing on her own hand, while her head contorts in an unnatural position.

but that is all ellie can aspire to do when you and now she too are sabotaging her stupid fucking coward self.

#ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie x reader smut #ellie williams smut #ellie x y/n #ellie smut #ellie x you #the last of us smut #ellie williams x you #ellie the last of us #loser!ellie #loser ellie

[gatorbites-imagines]

Might be weird to ask but petplay? I just think certain COD men *cough cough* soap *cough cough* would be esp good as dumb puppies y'know?

COD petplay headcanons

Little do you know anon, I enjoy petplay, so this is no weird question at all. And you are so right. Petplay COD be upon ye.

Ill be going on holiday all of next week, so if you guys are fine with shorter replies i can write some on my phone, let me know what you think.

John “Soap” MacTavish

Soap is such a good pup, kind of a brat sometimes but its because he wants your attention. You’ll catch him crawling around with your clothes in his mouth or half crawled under the kitchen table, his lower body still sticking out as he chews on something he shouldn’t be chewing on.

Whines loudly and paws at your leg for attention any time you aren’t paying attention to him. Can’t you see how good he’s being? How tempted his tummy is when he rolls onto his back? Don’t you wanna rub it?

The type to crawl around in a jockstrap, a harness, a collar, a puphood and pup gloves. Don’t forget the plug with a tail attached so he can wag so prettily for you, or so it can wag all over the place when he’s feeling playful.

Sadly, you’ll have to punish the poor pup on the regular, he makes a mess and can’t keep himself from humping your leg or crawling onto the furniture to lick and bite at you. Its not unusual to find him humping pillows in your bedroom, whining for you.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Hes more calm than the others, but don’t expect that means he’s less of a troublemaker. Will steal your keys or your clothes and hide them under the bed, or under his dog bed so that you can’t leave. Will chew on your belts and throw your laundry all over the place.

A whiner too, has this warbled pathetic sounding whine he lets out when you tell him to stay still and quiet so you can work, but settles down if hes allowed to wrap around your feet. It always ends up with him chewing or licking your ankles though.

Wears a getup similar to Soap, with the jockstrap, harness, hood and gloves. Likes how it makes him dependent on you as his master to take care of him. Sometimes he just gets home from a mission, puts on his hood, and lays down with his head in your lap to calm down from the day.

Tries to be more sneaky when he’s horny, like subtly grinding into the floor or his dog bed, or sitting down and wiggling in his spot so he can move his plug around inside him. You always catch him though, since he starts that warbly whine when he gets close but can’t finish without you.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

The most well-behaved pup, think like a well-trained military dog. Always standing straight on all fours, back straight, head lifted, and chest puffed out. He soaks up any praise you give him with a gruff bark and a small wag.

Doesn’t regularly whine, is more of a barker or growler. He growls the most if there are other pups around that try to get close to you or play with him, as he’s always standing on guard in front of you. You always have to muzzle him around other pups cuz Ghost does nip at times, especially when other pups are acting up and he needs to correct their behavior.

Tends to do play either fully dressed in his military gear, just a tail strapped to his belt and a customized hood with his skull paint. Or fully naked, only wearing maybe a harness, a spikey collar, his hood, his tail, and a cockcage unless you need it off.

If Ghost is in the mood, you’ll invite other pups over (unless you are poly and have multiple partners who are pups) and Ghost will assert himself as the alpha amongst them. This is where you take the cage off him so he can push down the other pups and take them. He will always arch his back for you though, or roll onto his back and spread his legs with a tiny barely audible whine for you.

Gary “Roach” Sanderson

A very quiet pup and doesn’t act up much, tends to be more on the chill side. Hes even allowed in the furniture since he wont mess it up like others, and likes to curl up beside you with his head in your lap.

When hes feeling it though, like if you’ve been apart for a while, he might start growing antsy. Crawling around in front of you or sitting right by your feet and letting out tiny barely audible whines. It always ends up with him pawing at your knee and looking at you with the most lethal puppy eyes ever.

Doesn’t wear as much gear at the others, I don’t think he would enjoy the gloves that make his hands unusable, and the hood might feel too restrictive to him. Instead hed just resort to walking on his knuckles, wearing a headband with ears, and maybe wearing a belt with a tail on top of his boxers.

A licker, he doesn’t say much, but you will know he’s truly in the mood when he starts licking you all over. Licking at your hands, your legs, your torso, slobbering all over your pants and crotch until you open your belt and give him what he wants.

Phillip Graves

Another troublemaking pup, a brat. Rips up pillows and gnaws on your belts and wallet. The type you have to play tug of war with for your belt as he growls and yips, wagging his tail and drooling on the floor.

The kinda pup you’ll have to spank and punish in other ways, not out of this world to put him in a cockcage or crate for the night if he’s acted out way too much. He enjoys it very much though, so it’s nothing he hasn’t asked for himself. Graves has probably come up with some of the punishments himself.

Hes fully geared up, hood, gloves, tail and all, except he wouldn’t wear a jockstrap, just fully naked expect for the pup parts. Hes not always wearing a cage as its only for punishment, so you can catch him grinding against stuff sometimes.

The most effective punishment for him is overstimulation, laying him across your lap and jerking him off until he’s whining and writhing and shaking, where after you’ll let him cuddle against your chest after cleaning him up, praising him and giving him good aftercare.

#male reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #cod #call of duty #john soap mactavish imagine #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish headcanon #john soap mactavish x male reader #kyle gaz garrick imagine #kyle gaz garrick headcanon #kyle gaz garrick x male reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #simon ghost riley headcanon #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #gary roach sanderson #gary roach sanderson imagine #gary roach sanderson headcanon #gary roach sanderson x male reader #gary roach sanderson x reader #phillip graves #phillip graves imagine #phillip graves headcanon #phillip graves x male reader #phillip graves x reader #cod imagine #cod headcanon

[purinfelix]

Joao with actress reader 👀

just an act ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

pairing: actress reader x joao felix (established relationship) summary: in which your boyfriend's possessive tendencies are put to the test warnings: none! w/c: 1.1k

a/n: take a shot everytime i apologise for being ia challenge !! also this is a teensy bit rushed and i'm not entirely happy with it but, i hope it's alright !! tysm anon for the req (and for waiting for so long for me to answer it 😭)

“Joao, you’re sure you’re okay with it?”

“How many times are you going to ask me that?” your boyfriend huffed, “I’m fine! Really!”

“You literally skipped out on training to follow me to work,” you reminded him, with a slightly teasing tone.

“So?”

You let out a sigh for what felt like the hundredth time in the past hour and tried your best to maintain your composure. Around you, the atmosphere of an active film set roared with its flurry of light, noise, and movement. Neither your hair nor makeup were close to being done, and you were still standing wrapped in the plush white robe the costuming staff had given you before you changed into your outfit for your scene. Somewhere to your right you watched the director and his entourage of nervous interns scrounge around the perfect the set’s lighting, and push all of the cameras and mics in their right places. Behind you, your costar sat on his chair, waiting impatiently, ready for the scene the two of you were shooting today.

And yet, the only thing you found your attention being drawn to was the boy that stood in front of you, with floppy hair and pleading eyes and a pout that was just too hard to deny.

“So, are you sure you’re alright with this? With me kissing another man?” you repeated, slowly, growing more aware of how little time you had until the cameras were set to start rolling.

When you had come home a couple of weeks ago with the news - that the new movie you were starring in would involve a kissing scene between you and your costar - you were nervous, to say the least. You knew Joao was the type to value your career just as much as you did, and would never do anything to stop you from achieving your dreams. However, you were equally aware that he had possessive tendencies, as much as he pretended not to. Of course, he had acted casual about the news at first, telling you that as long as you were comfortable with it, he was too.

But now that the time to shoot the scene had actually come, it seemed like he was having second thoughts - evidenced by the fact he had insisted on following you to work and had spent the past hour or so hovering around as you got ready, expression equal parts nervous and stern. Despite this, you knew he’d rather die than admit how he really felt, even if you prodded him a thousand times just to say what was clearly on his mind.

“Yep! Totally fine!” he chirped out in a falsely cheery tone. The way his eyes flickered anxiously between you, and your costar waiting in the distance, seemed to suggest otherwise.

You could only rub his arm reassuringly though, offering a look that you hoped conveyed your gratefulness at the fact he trusted you enough to not get in your way, but also cared enough to be so watchful. Still, the staff around you waited for no one, and soon enough you were ushered back into your makeup chair, from which you watched your boyfriend linger behind the cameras, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

“Joao, baby.”

You were starting to feel like a broken record at this point.

The scene had gone well, and you had only had to reshoot it a couple of times because of either you or your costar forgetting or stumbling over your lines. But the two of you had done your best to maintain an air of professionalism surrounding the intimate scene - your boyfriend however hadn’t been so well.

“I’m fine.” His tone, and the fact that his back was facing you as the two of you lay in bed together, told you otherwise.

The kiss - or kisses as Joao had corrected you - had only lasted seconds, nothing more than quick pecks in fleeting moments. You hadn’t thought much of them before, during, and now after them but it was clear he didn’t share the same sentiment.

“You said you were okay with it,” you sighed softly, trying your best to push the understanding tone in your voice.

“I am.”

“It doesn’t really seem like it.” Whilst it seemed like the bare minimum for him to let you go ahead with something your job required of you, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for him putting aside his feelings for you - or at least trying to. A part of you found it slightly adorable as well, that he was trying so hard to hide his slight jealousy - evidenced by his moody demeanour the entire afternoon after you got back from shooting.

“What makes you think that?” You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely clueless or whether he was just messing with you. Struggling against your mattress, you pushed yourself up and leaned over to him, resting your chin on his shoulder - from where you could see his side profile, and furrowed brows.

“Hmm, I wonder,” you hum, fingers moving to gently interlace his fingers with yours as a silent way of saying I know something’s wrong.

“It’s just,” he began, and you felt a weight lift off of your shoulders at finally breaking through to him, “that costar of yours, Andy or whatever his name is, seemed a little bit too into it.”

You had to stop yourself from giggling, given how sincere his words were, but you couldn’t help but find his jealousy a little bit adorable.

“Joao, his name is Andrew,” you corrected him, “and he has a girlfriend.”

“What?”

“Yeah, and she’s lovely,” you chuckled softly, relief washing over you as you watched your boyfriend break into a small smile for what felt like the first time all day. You could physically feel the tension in his shoulders melt away as he let out a sigh of relief he must’ve been holding ever since you had come home with the news.

“Thank God,” he finally mumbled, turning back around to face you as he pulled you in close. You felt his grip tightly around your waist as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, sighing deeply.

“Plus, it’s not like he would pose much competition anyways,” you added, laughing softly as you wrapped your arms around him. He only hummed in response, not saying much more. You pecked the top of his forehead, relishing the fact that you had finally managed to heal his mood. After all, whilst acting was your job, you knew that at times like this - away from any cameras and in the comfort of your boyfriend’s arms - none of it was an act.

#joao felix #joão félix #joao felix x reader #joao felix x you #joao felix fluff #joao felix oneshot #joao felix fic #fanfic #football #oneshot #fc barça #fc barcelona #jet writes ★ #purinfelix #jet answers ✧

[eliciana]

SAGAU SERIES: Misunderstandings

-> Chapter 1 | Chapter 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 4 (Here)...

Masterlist

Blog Navigation

_________________________________________

Tw: Sagau, Cult!Au

Reader: Gn!Reader, Creator!Reader, God!Reader

Characters: Reader, Unknown Voice, Ganyu, Keqing, Aquilo

Note: Revised and corrected spelling mistakes

____________________________________

You’ve been acting like a fool for an entire hour now. Honestly, you feel like those hero days you have imagined after knowing you are the Creator is now over. You can’t even bring out a single dirt out of your fingertips. Even resulting to saying “Abracadabra” didn’t even work. Might as well give up right now. Is what you would have said if you were a little bitc- /jk. You once again paced around your now new entirely furnished house.

“Hm. What to do? What to do?” Either you were tapping your foot or going around in circles trying to figure out how to fix your predicament, there was no in between. Maybe you should try imagining the magic you were going to summon? That is a possibility. After all, it always somehow works in the novels or Mangas that you always read. Or perhaps touching the Statues of the Seven? It worked for the Traveler, why wouldn’t it work for you? Yet, the thought of the Vision users or Archons catching you caused dread to cloud your mind.

You released a heavy sigh, settling onto the plush sofa provided by the Hilichurls, acquired possibly through less-than-licit means from a merchant's carriage. The sofa's appearance of comfort was not deceiving; its cushioning enveloped you like a gentle cloud. Yet, as you indulged in this luxurious moment, a voice within chided you. [Why are you procrastinating right now, dear Creator? Shouldn’t you be trying to find out how to summon magic so you could eat the cuisines you said you wanted to try above the surface? This is not a moment for leisure, Your Majesty, chop chop time is ticking.]

“Oh, shut up!” you yelled furiously. Your outburst cut through the tranquil ambiance, a vehement assertion against the nagging voice. You sat up once again, parting ways with the plush sofa. “I need to do this. For the food!” you told yourself repeatedly.

“This time, let’s try to envision it more vividly.” You took a deep breath in and tried to relax your muscles. “I got this. I got this. This is an easy task, [Reader]. You have always done this every time you sleep. Imagining as if [Fave Character] is beside you, snuggling with you as you sleep.” It did help in cheering you on. With your eyes shut, you visualized a delicate wisp of Anemo energy twirling around your fingertips. [Just small though. Don’t overdo it. You might summon a tornado and your house will be gone.] The voice ringed in your head once again. [That’s right. You’re doing good.] It said once again.

Seconds after, you felt a small breeze in front of you. Did you really did it? Can you finally eat all the foods you want? You took a small peek and you opened your eyes immediately. Your eyes shined like the stars below.

“Yes! I did it!” You ran towards the kitchen and picked up the slime that was dazedly looked at you. “Aquilo, love! I did it! Look! I can use magic!” Excitedly, you showed him the small wind that formed at the tip of your index finger. “I CAN FINALLY EAT THE CUSINES I HAVE ALWAYS WANTED TO EAT AT THE SURFACE! MY REDEMPTION ARC IS HAPPENING! JUST YOU CHARACTERS WAIT! I WILL NO LONGER BE AFRAID OF ANY OF YOU AFTER I MASTERED MY MAGICAL PROWESS!” You yelled vigorously and laughed like a madman. Aquilo is truly concerned for your health.

_________________________________________

“The Traveler hasn’t been showing up. I am quite concerned for them. Ever since the Creator was said to have descended upon our land, the Traveler was never seen again. Do you think they went ahead and tried to find Their Majesty, Keqing?” Asked Ganyu solemnly.

“Perchance. The Traveler is, after all, the one closest to Their Majesty the most and is the direct Acolyte. They may have felt Their Majesty’s aura and decided to follow it and never told us because they were rushing.” Keqing deduced. From the reports gathered, it was said that The Traveler after finishing all of their commissions suddenly ran towards a waypoint and disappeared to who knows where. Even the Archons don’t know where they might be as of now.

“Finding The Creator would have been much easier if The Traveler was only here.” Keqing looked at the starry sky above the Jade Chamber.

Ganyu's brow furrowed as she pondered aloud, her voice tinged with genuine concern. “I truly wish that we would be able to locate Their Majesty sooner. I wonder why They have run away from the Favonius Knights…” she mused, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on her mind.

_________________________________________

A/n:Hi guys. Sorry for the very very very very late update of this Series. My school sucks as* and they give so many assessments so I coudln't finish the draft. So sorry, I promise to drop the next chapter either 20-21 or 27-28 of April. If not, i'm probs dead with all of the projects we do. Lmao

#genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #•works[🍡]• #genshin series #genshin cult au #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #self aware genshin #sagau genshin

[tciddaemina]

so i had a dream last night about a svsss bingqiu dating sim story set post-epilogue where Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe hadnt gotten together. idk how that would even be set up but like maybe they stopped Maigu ridge but didnt bone but its still revealed Binghe is into Shen Qingqiu, and now its in the peace afterwards where things have more or less gone back together and Shen Qingqiu has finished his sexuality crisis and decided he absolutely needs Binghe to rail him

and so its this situation of Shen Qingqiu in a dating sim, but his only romance route is Binghe and hes just trying to select the correct dialogue route to getting rawed over the nearest desk except he has no romantic experience except reading godawful stuff like PIDW and so he keeps fucking it up by saying the most unhinged shit, and it keeps making Binghe blush and run away or misunderstand him because hes so used to Shen Qingqiu being dense and misunderstanding all flirting that now that Shen Qingqiu is explicitly and deliberately trying to flirt with him he keeps explaining it away

and so Shen Qingqiu is like tearing out his hair and choosing increasingly more unhinged dialogue options and dressing in increasingly raunchy clothes to try and get Binghe to do something and its just like. 10000% pure crack

And its like

-

Shen Qingqiu sitting across from Binghe, the two them drinking wine together after dinner. The hour is late, the day stretching long and the two of them enjoying their rest after a day of endless meetings. The breeze is sweet with the scent of golden night jasmine, the candle light is dim and intimate.

Shen Qingqiu bites his tongue, an impatient itch running up his spine. It's a fine evening, but he can't enjoy it - all day it's felt like his nerves have been ground down to a find powder. All week, his nerves have been ground down. He just about tastes his impatience now, so thick its grown, its given a physical taste in his mouth.

He glances at the dialogue boxes hovering before him resentfully.

1. BOLD. "This master is tired of waiting. He has wanted Binghe too long." [Lean over and kiss him.]

2. EXTRA BOLD. [Let your actions speak for you! Start removing clothing and reach for him! Get it started!]

3. SUGGESTIVE. "Binghe has been a good boy. Why not allow this master to show his favor?" [Glance demurely at Binghe's crotch.]

4. SLY. "How have Binghe's energy levels been? Is he he still feeling unbalanced from Xin Mo? Perhaps this master can help..." [Offer dual cultivation.]

5. COP OUT. The weather is fine today, is it not?

And Binghe sits up, eyes softening, touched by Shen Qingqiu's concern. A soft ping rings out, an alert appearing in the corner of Shen Qingqiu's vision [+15 affection points]. Still, he appears a bit abashed, ducking his head.

"Ah, shizun need not worry. Mu-shishu has been taking care of this disciple - this disciple has been meditating each morning in the spiritual caves," Luo Binghe says, hurrying to reassure Shen Qingqiu and completely missing the point. "Shizun shouldn't concern himself - he has his own energies to worry about. Has Without A Cure been acting up again?"

Fuck Without A Cure!! Shen Qingqiu almost screams. This isn't about that! Tens of millions of words of Binghe fighting and fucking his way through the plot of PIDW, suave as anything, and yet here he can't see a flag being waved in front of his face! What next? Will Shen Qingqiu get out a flag and wave it, shouting Please fuck me??!!!

Binghe! Please be more conscientious of your poor master and think with your dick a little more!! Where is that insatiable lady-killer when you need him??? Shen Qingqiu is so frustrated he feels like he might spit blood! Please do something about it Binghe!!

Shen Qingqiu just smiles and inclines his head. "It has been manageable," he says, and tries a little harder, attempting to redirect the conversation. "Though... with our energies in such a state, perhaps we might find a way to help one another..." He looks at Binghe shyly over the top of his fan, lashes lowered. He bites his lip, a small thrill of shy anticipation running through him.

Binghe brightens, eyes clearing. He straightens. "Of course!" he says eagerly. "This disciple would be honored in taking over for Luo Qingge in balancing shizun's meridians each week! This disciple will ask Mu-shishu for a lesson on the proper way to circulate energies through the meridians of the wrist!"

So dense!! Shen Qingqiu's jaw twitches, and he almost throws his fan down onto the table. He smooths out his expression immediately, mask serene and implacable. "Ah," he says delicately, because fuck it, maybe he needs to be more explicit. "This master was perhaps thinking another way..."

And Binghe nods, realization washing over his face. "Of course," he says. "If human solutions are not working, but perhaps a demonic method-"

Yes! Like the divine pillar! Please fuck this master! Binghe is finally catching on!!!

"- the demon realm probably has entirely different healing practices and methods! Why have we never thought to look before? Maybe they will have something. Shizun, I will go immediately-"

"That wasn't quite what I-"

"Shizun is so wise! Wait for me shizun! I'll be back before you know it!"

-

Whoops there's a part 2.

#my writing #svsss #bingqiu #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #just fucking around really #writing idea #scum villan unhinged dating sim au

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f! reader - vol. vi

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter |

chapter summary: you grow closer with sarah, and also with joel... pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 5.2k chapter warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY - oral sex (m receiving). alcohol consumption. Some angst, but mostly fluff, references to divorces/getting remarried/stepparents. anxious thoughts. a/n: this chapter is probably the least heavy. s/o to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about it, as always. lots of character/relationship/backstory for both joel and reader. i give reader a childhood nickname in this story, but it's not her actual name. also i made up a backstory for joel because he deserves it. hope you enjoy!

-June 5th, 2003-

“I think you missed a spot.”

“Yeah, that’s because you won’t hold still.”

Sarah scolds you for what feels like the hundredth time since you sat down. You feel a bit like a rambunctious child, and not so much a grown woman who has over fifteen years on her with the way she’s talking to you. To keep from giggling, you press your lips together tightly.

“You’re the one who begged to do this.”

“I did not,” she says, lacing mock offense into her voice – even with her head tilted down so you can’t see her mouth, you can tell she’s smiling. 

Sarah’s bent over your kitchen table, across from you, holding your thumb between two of her fingers. Meticulously, she’s painting a layer of pink, glittery polish on your nails. It’s been awhile since you started, and the near-suffocating chemical fumes of acetone and nail polish had grown so intense you’d already made her turn on the fan and open the window above your sink. It wasn’t really helping. And she’s got her face so close to your hand – laser focused – you’re a little concerned she’s going to poke herself in the eye. But you don’t dare correct her. This is a weekly ritual. Every Thursday night, you give each other manicures. It’s far more important to her, however.

“Oh my god, relax your fingers, you’re so rigid,” she reprimands you again.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, a bit sheepish. You’ve been anxious, the energy having worked its way out to all your extremities, apparently. 

To be fair, you could do without this. You’ve never really cared about having your nails done growing up, and still don’t. They’ll look good for about two to three business days, and then they’ll chip. It’s always this way, regardless of what topcoat she puts on that claims it will make your nails last forever – maybe you’re just too rough with your hands. However, it’s the one thing Sarah doesn’t give you grief about, maybe because hers always chip, too. 

You keep letting her do it, though. Partly because she likes it so much – and it hasn’t gotten any easier to say no to her. The other part is reminded of what it’s like to be a kid again. When you were first sent away to school, you always kept your nails painted - a small act of rebellion, of self-expression after being forced into the same uniform day after day. When you’d come home on breaks you’d beg your brother to paint his nails, run down the hall after him with a bottle of polish. Vincent would never let you, but he would always find a compromise, which was usually a walk through Central Park, and paying for you to ride on the carousel. He’d stand off to the side, waving each time you passed. In those moments, you liked to pretend that things were normal, that there wasn’t a dark cloud lingering over you both. Because even then, you’d known. On the walk home, Vincent would let you hook your mittened hand in the crook of his elbow, and you’d tilt your head all the way back to look at the tops of the buildings, the sun poking through the clouds.

Sarah draws back from your hand, then releases it delicately to the tabletop, placing the brush back in the nail polish bottle. “There,” she says, screwing on the lid. You both lean forward to admire her work. “I’m getting better aren’t, I?”

“You definitely are,” you look at the obnoxious color – Aurora Berry-alis. It’s the exact opposite of anything you’d pick out for yourself, but you’ve been surprised at the compliments you’ve been getting at work from your coworkers whenever you are going over contracts or pointing out revisions. If anything, you think it might make them pay closer attention when you talk. You nod at Sarah appreciatively. “They look good.”

“I think you’re getting better, too,” she places her hands atop the table alongside yours, so you can compare. You’d painted hers the same color, because you always let her choose. Well, it’s less that you let her, and more that she tells you, and you know better than to argue. The first time she’d painted them, and you’d suggested a coat of clear, she had given you so much grief about how boring you were, that you had given in and let her do whatever she’d wanted. There is nothing more terrifying than a teenage girl thinking you are lame. 

“It’s always easier to paint someone else’s,” you answer. 

Sarah leans forward, and frowns when her eyes land on your thumbnail, the one with the scab at the base of it. “You really need to stop picking at your cuticles.”

“I can’t help it,” you say sheepishly. “It’s a bad habit.” Particularly when stressed, you want to add, but you keep it to yourself.

“Well, it needs to stop,” she says pointedly, before planting her hands on the table and standing up. “I’m gonna get a ginger ale. Do you want me to get you anything?”

“Yeah, grab me one, too,” you blow on your fingers so they dry faster. 

Sarah disappears behind you, and you hear her rummaging through your fridge. “Do you not eat? Your fridge is basically empty.”

It’s only when she mentions it that you recall. “I do, I just forgot to go to the store this weekend.”

“How do you forget to buy food for yourself?”

“I’ve been busy.”

Sarah groans, and a few of your cabinets open and slam shut. “There’s no food here.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “I pretty much only buy stuff for you anyways, at this rate you might as well start chipping in on the grocery bill.”

“You sound like my dad.”

At the mention of Joel, you stiffen. 

Things have been a bit of a blur for the past few weeks. Between both of your work schedules, it’s been difficult to see one another, and even when you’re free – it has to be when Sarah’s away, which doesn’t happen often. And if she’s not in her own house, the second most likely place for her to be is at yours – so that makes it even more complicated. And both of you have agreed that she can’t find out. Because of that, you’ve only seen Joel a handful of times. 

“How is he?” you ask, nonchalantly. It’s a question you have asked her a hundred times before, just like you’ve asked after her best friend from school, Jennifer, or her grandparents, her Uncle Tommy – anyone from her life she talks about regularly. For some reason, you’re still expecting Sarah to hear these three words and sense that you’re not telling her something.

“He’s good,” she says, rustling through boxes. “Busy.” 

Yeah….busy. You could laugh when you think of the absurdity of the situation as a whole. There’s not a chapter in any of your self-help books that could teach you how to properly navigate it. So you’re left to figure it out for yourself, and hope you can without inflicting any permanent damage on her psyche. 

It makes you kind of nauseous actually. You knew her first. You were closer with her, first. It feels like a betrayal – and you’ve done enough of that in your life. This was supposed to be a way to start over, to do the right thing, but the sickness follows wherever you go.  You can’t stop it. What would happen if she found out? Would she be angry, mad, disgusted? She likes you, but as far as she knows, you aren’t romantically involved with her father. And that would certainly change things. 

Where it really gets problematic – you like Joel. So much more than you had expected. Well, maybe you’d been expecting it a little but not….like this. Of course, you know better than to be hopeful. Everything is still tentative, new. You’re figuring it out. It’s nice, at least, to savor the feeling while you have it, because it’s something you have felt so rarely.

All that considered, keeping it from her objectively is the right thing to do – for now. At least, that’s how you justify it to yourself.

“Actually he, uh, has been on a coupla dates lately,” Sarah returns to sit with a bag of stale Doritos and two ginger ales

“Really?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow, pretending this is new information. 

Sarah nods, and is careful to open both cans with the tip of a butter knife she brought over, so as not to chip her freshly painted nails. She speaks so nonchalantly, there’s no way she suspects anything. 

You test the waters. “How do you feel about that?”

“What are you, my guidance counselor?” 

You laugh first, and then she joins in, delighted by her clever joke. Once it fades, she surprises you by sobering up, quickly. “But uh….I don’t feel any way about it…I usually don’t care unless he introduces me to whoever he’s with.” 

“Oh yeah,” you say. “I remember when my dad did that. Always weird, right?”

“Always,” she repeats, sounding relieved that you understand. “But it doesn’t happen often. I think he’s careful. But things have just never felt….right. With any of them.”

“What, like, they weren’t nice?” 

“No, just….I could tell they didn’t really care…” she says. “About me….”

You want to tell her that’s not true. But you’d only be speaking for yourself, and this isn’t about you. 

“What about you?” she asks, and you realize you’ve been frowning. “Did you get along with your dad’s girlfriends when you first met them?”

“I mean, it wasn’t so much a meeting as it was my father introducing us and saying ‘Pixie, Meredith is going to be your stepmother,' and then that was that."

“Your stepmother’s name was really Meredith?” Sarah asks incredulously. “Like in The Parent Trap?”

You consider this, the realization hitting. “Yeah, I guess so,” and you both laugh. 

“Oh boy,” Sarah says. “Stepmom? If my dad gets remarried, I think…things would change…”

“How so?”

“What if she hates me? And then dad stops spending time with me? What if he has another kid, and they forget about me?” She pauses, but not long enough for you to shut it down without interrupting. “I mean, tell me what happened with your stepmom. Did you become an afterthought? ”

“Uh, well….” you wrinkle your nose. “I mean, yeah, but I was never exactly a priority to begin with.”

To you, it’s such a casual statement of fact, so at first, you’re not sure why Sarah looks so distraught by the response. “Oh, I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to….” Her shoulders sag, just a little.

“Oh,” you wave your hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I’m fine. What I’m trying to say is from everything you’ve told me about your dad, and everything I know myself –” which is more than you think “– he would never let that happen.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” she says, bobbing her head. “But I can’t help but think about it.”

“Those are just thoughts…” you offer. And you’re no longer even approaching this conversation with the context of being the woman who is with Joel. You just want to make her feel better. “Doesn’t mean they’ll come true.”

It seems to placate her. “Yeah. You’re right,” she nods, and takes a sip from her ginger ale. “I do worry about my dad, though. It’s just the two of us, and I know he gets lonely. And who knows, maybe someday he’ll end with someone I actually like. That could be fun,” Sarah smiles a little. “So long as they don’t boss me around.”

“Boss you around?” you ask, taking a sip from your own can and raising your eyebrows. “I wish them the best.”

“Shut up,” she says, then giggles. “But also…fair point.”

Suddenly, you sit up from where you’d been leaning back into the wood of your kitchen chair. And it seems like as good a time as ever to change the subject, because you’ve far overstayed your welcome lingering. “Oh, by the way, before I forget…stay right there, I have something for you.”

“What? What is it?”

You rise from your seat, and walk a few paces to the basket in the corner of the room. “You’ve got that camping trip coming up soon, and it gets chilly at night….” You dig through your knitting materials until you find what you’re looking for. Once you do, you place it in front of Sarah on the tabletop. 

“What? No way!” she exclaims, picking up the baby blue knit cap in front of her. “You knitted me a hat?”

“Yeah,” you say, a bit sheepishly. “I meant to wrap it but-”

“It’s so cute,” Sarah cuts you off. “Can I try it on?”

“Of course, it’s yours.”

She jumps up from her seat and saunters to the mirror that hangs above the credenza just inside your front door. You follow her, standing behind her as she tugs the hat over her head. “What do you think?”

“Here,” you murmur, reaching over her shoulder to brush a piece of hair from her eyes, tucking it under the beanie, and pulling it further down in the back so it covers her ears as intended. Then you both look in the mirror. “I like it. Do you like it?” 

“Yes,” she says, incredulous. “I can’t believe you made this for me.”

“I’ve hardly been knitting lately because it is so hot here. And you’ve been talking about how excited you are for this trip since I met you, so…it only felt right.”

Sarah whirls around quickly to wrap you in a hug, and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror behind her – arm across the back of the pink hoodie she’s wearing. There’s a vague sense of longing in your expression, and you wonder what it might have been like to have someone in your life who could have given you the things your parents never did. Maybe there’s still a way to right all the wrongs. And not just for yourself.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-June 6th, 2003-

“Come in!” 

You’re closing the oven when you hear the knock on your screen door. It slams shut, and you peer through the entrance of your kitchen to the front foyer – just to make sure you haven’t invited an axe murderer into your home. 

The concern is fleeting, because you see it’s just Joel, bent over, untying his work boots and slipping them off. You like to think of yourself as easygoing, but you don’t allow him to wear them inside the house. All it took was some side eye the last time he’d tracked dirt all over your clean carpets, and then you never had to ask him again. But really, it was a minor inconvenience compared to some of the shit your past boyfriends had pulled. For example, this past year you actually had to utter the sentence ‘I don’t want you stashing your coke in my underwear drawer’ out loud to a grown man. So, even if the bar was so low you could step over it – and hardly bend a knee – it was something you had learned to appreciate about him.

You’ve made a roasted whole chicken – which is surprisingly easy, and mostly involves root vegetables and a lot of butter. Then it just cooks in the oven. It’s sort of your go-to when you actually decide to cook, but it’s too much food for one person. But you like that if you make it at the beginning of the week, you can eat leftovers for several days after. You hope Joel will appreciate it – not that you are trying to impress him, well, who are you kidding? You definitely are. It’s just one of those things you are ashamed to admit to yourself. 

You turn to the sink, pulling off the yellow rubber gloves you’d bought to wash dishes in – in an effort to preserve your manicure. “Hey,” you say, when you hear his footsteps shuffling behind you. 

“Hey,” Joel answers, and before you can turn, his lips are on your cheek, his hand on your shoulder, and he takes in the scene of your kitchen. “Would you like some help?”

“I’m good,” you look around. It was maybe a little messy, but the dishes were soaking and all you have to do is wipe off the countertops. It tends to happen when you cook. You’re not great at mise en place. Still, you have a system, and it works for you, and it stresses you out to have helpers in the kitchen. “Everything’s in the oven already.” 

Turning finally, you take Joel all the way. He looks tired. Shoulders slumped, hair mussed. You reach out, pull a piece of sawdust out from one of his waves, flick it into the sink. “Why don’t you go sit in the front room?” you ask him. “I’ll be in, just give me a second.”

He’s been busy, putting in extra hour into his first contracting gig, and it appears it’s starting to take its toll. 

“Okay,” he nods, hesitant, stepping back. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel settles onto your couch with his hands over his face. He’s upset with himself. For as much as he likes you, he’s barely seen you since your first date – and tonight, the one night he gets the chance, he’s utterly spent. 

He rubs his eyes, looks towards your record player in the corner of the room, some melancholy jazz playing over the speakers. In the kitchen, dishes clink together, and a cabinet shuts lightly. Joel lets his head loll back against the plush cushions of your couch, savoring the only peace he’s felt all day.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” your voice cuts in, and Joel doesn’t know how you had snuck up on him, but when he peers up at you, standing over him, you’re holding out a frosted tumbler. 

The floral apron you’d been wearing when he first came in is gone, so he sees more clearly the blush button-down you’ve paired with khaki slacks. Your hair is clipped back from your face, reading glasses on your head. He thinks of your coworkers who get to see you looking like this everyday, and gets a little envious. “What’s this?”

“A drink,” you say. “I thought you might need one.”

“Is it that obvious?” He feels a little guilty that it’s so clear to you what’s wrong, and you’ve barely spoken yet. Despite everything, Joel can’t help but feel warm, accepting the beverage graciously. The thin layer of ice coating the outside of the drink melts the second his fingers wrap around it, brushing against your own. 

“Only a little,” you give him a soft smile before clinking glasses.

It’s some kind of whiskey, served over ice and it’s fucking good. It goes down far too easy, and he immediately takes another pull. You settle next to him while he does, but not so close that you’re touching. Joel is no stranger to how tentative you are with him, still. But he likes you regardless. He’s holding something fickle in his palm, and he understands he’d better hold still so as not to break it. 

“Long day?” you ask, and reach out to trace your knuckle up his arm absentmindedly. 

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs. “Things just keep goin’ wrong.”

“And you’re the problem solver now?”

“Something like that,” Joel says. You’d already drilled him about the ins and outs of his job awhile back. Being a contractor, while it’s a step up from his last job, and makes him more money – is much more demanding. People actually answer to him, now. 

“I’m sorry…that sounds stressful,” you empathize. “I’m sure you’ll get a handle on it soon enough.”

Joel nods. Even if his brain has been telling him otherwise, he’s inclined to believe you. 

Carefully – but not at all hesitantly, you reach out, hand curling around the back of his neck. Its the same one you’d been using to hold your glass so it’s comfortingly cool against his skin – still heated from a day spent under the sun. Joel feels his heart rate pick up as you move in closer. When your lips connect with his own, the kiss is gentle, affectionate. A proper greeting. 

A flash of something, white hot, swipes up the sides of his neck, into his face. He’s a little embarrassed at the effect your touch has on him. Everything is still so new. And he’s hardly gotten the time alone with you to get it out of your system.

You deepen the kiss, it becomes deeper, more sensual, and he feels the switch flip. Almost as though you can sense his arousal, your hand slips down, swiftly unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. Your mouth never leaves his, you never pull away to look down, and he’s hard by the time you cup him through his underwear. And he’s still so taken aback he can’t stifle the noise he makes – directly into your mouth.

Your fingers hook through his belt loops to shuck his pants and underwear down, and the comfort of your body pressed against him disappears. Blinking open his eyes, he reaches out to pull you back. “What are you-” he cuts himself off when he sees you kneeling between his parted knees. 

In response, your hands plant high on his thighs. “What does it look like?” you ask, your chin tilting back, eyes glimmering.

Oh. 

“May I?” So polite, considering the offer. 

Joel nods wordlessly, and he watches you lean forward. His eyes squeeze shut right before you take him in your mouth – because he knows if he doesn’t ease his way into this, he won’t last. 

You don’t waste time teasing or kissing or anything like that. You’re not gonna drag things out. Maybe it’s because dinner’s in the oven and your time is limited, or maybe this is just how you are.

He aches, and in one go, you wrap your mouth around him and take him as deep as you can, he feels your throat constrict when you can’t go any further. Then, you do it again, again. It goes on that way, until he’s coated with saliva and the slide of your lips up and down the length of him feels as soft as the silk of your shirt, which he’s unintentionally fisting, trying to hold back. 

Your hands squeeze his thighs, massaging them gently while you work diligently. It’s fast, but not so fast he can’t enjoy himself. Sloppy, but he prefers it that way. It’s perfect. He thinks you’re fucking perfect. 

He decides he has to see you, watch you, and leans back to take you in more fully. One of his hands rises to slip under your chin, angles your face so your eyes lock with his own.  “Look at me,” he says, a little press to get you to engage. He’s learning how to push you– just enough to get what he needs without scaring you away. And he’s rewarded when you moan around him, the vibration around his cock only bringing him closer to release. 

“Such a sweet girl,” he murmurs, and you groan again at the praise – he relishes in how well he’s getting to know you, learning what gets you off – in the short time you’ve been together. “You look so pretty with your mouth full.” 

Then he moves his hand to sift into your hair, collecting it gently at your nape so it stays out of the way, and he can gently guide you along.

You pull off him for a moment, your breathing ragged, lips swollen and wet. You look so good, out of breath and overworked all just to please him. And you don’t relinquish all contact, your hand replacing, your mouth so you can jerking him off, twisting slightly at the top and letting your thumb run over the head of his cock. “You work so hard, Joel,” you mumble. “Just want to take care of you.”

“Fuck,” he growls at the words. Words he’ll remember on nights when you aren’t lying next to him in bed. He’s got to hold out a little longer, just to see what else you might say. 

It’s all you offer, though, because you wrap your lips around him once more. 

He’s getting close. It wasn’t going to take much to begin with – but it’s the first time you’ve ever gone down on him, it’s been a long day, everything is compiling together to make him feel hotter and hotter, the pressure at the apex of his thighs reaching its precipice. One of your hands leaves his thighs to cup his balls, the other working the part of him your mouth doesn’t reach. He loses all his composure, his head falling back as his hips roll forward, choked sounding phrases leaving him. “Keep going, baby – just like that– so fucking good–”

You obey, because of course you do, and before he knows it – he’s coming, hard. You don’t pull back at all, just swallow him down as he pulses down your throat.

Joel covers his face with his hands and tries to steady his breathing, thoroughly spent. He’s fucking hungry, still, but at this rate, he may fall asleep soon. Warm palms land on his chest. For a moment, he’d nearly forgotten where he was.

“You good?” he opens his eyes to find you hovering over him, amusement in your expression.

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles, reaches out. “You can’t be fucking real,” he murmurs softly, hand on your cheek. 

“Oh,” You pull back to retrieve your drink and take a sip. “I’m very real.” 

“Come here.” He rasps, pulling you forward into a kiss. 

When he attempts to deepen it, you pull back slightly. “Hey, uh…dinner’s gonna be ready any minute.” 

“Oh?” Joel asks. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “And I’m actually….well I’m actually kind of proud of it, so maybe we shouldn’t get too distracted.” 

“Really?” Joel settles on pulling you against his chest, and you settle there easily. He’s hit in these moments with the awe that you let him this close, that you’re willing to do even more for him, you already have. “Sarah told me you can’t cook.”

“What?” you say incredulously, your head lifting off his chest. “That’s not true. I can, I just don’t.”

“You seemed to know what you’re doing.” 

“I do,” you say confidently, then grimace. “Well, I mean, I can follow a recipe.”

Joel laughs. “I’m sure it’ll be good.” Your head goes back against his chest. He’s careful not to disturb you too much when he reaches for the remainder of his whiskey. “What is this?”

“Dunno,” and instead of reaching out for your own glass, you bring the hand that holds his own down to your lips to take a sip. He strokes your hair, watches you. “Bourbon.”

“It’s good,” Joel says, and drinks again. He wants to down the glass, then steal from yours like you did to him, but it tastes expensive. 

You continue on. “A client gave it to me today for some pro-bono work I did. It’s probably meant to be served neat, but….it’s too hot for that.”

“Nice of you to help them out.”

You make a noise of affirmation, almost dismissive, and Joel continues on.  “I should be doing more of that sort of thing.”

“It’s alright,” you shrug.

“You know I…..” you trail off for a minute, like you’re trying to decide if you want to share something with him. “All I do is work for corporations all day. I have to be kind of….manipulative? Self-serving. It’s a little exhausting. It’s nice when I can use my skills to actually help people, you know?”

“Can’t really picture you being manipulative,” Joel let’s his thumb graze over your cheek. 

He thinks you might laugh, but instead you pull back, your expression unreadable. It’s easy to see that you’re studying him carefully, and he strokes your arm, giving you the space to continue. “You should know I haven’t always been the best person, Joel. No one has ever really looked out for me, so….”  you trail off. “But I’ve been trying. To be better.”

You say it like you’re not convinced. Like you’ve been told it’ll never be possible. Joel gazes tucks your hair behind your ear reverently. “Wherever you’re at right now,” he says. “Is plenty good for me.”

“Yeah well,” your eyes flicker away – maybe it was too much. “Helps that I’ve been spending all my time with you and Sarah.” You smile gently, then change the subject. “Did you see, she did my nails?” 

Joel looks down at your hands. 

“What do you think?” you ask. 

“They’re very….pink.” 

“They are.” 

Joel is thankful that Sarah has an outlet that’s not himself for something like this. He tries to imagine what it would be like to show up at work with his nails painted, and knows that he’d get shit for the rest of his life. “Better you than me, I guess.”

“Don’t give me any ideas.”

He laughs. 

“Where is Sarah, tonight, anyways?” you ask Joel. 

“My parents take her out for dinner at the end of every school year,” Joel says. 

“Oh,” you seem a little surprised by the mention of his parents. “Do they live nearby?” 

“Not too far,” Joel says. “About an hour and a half drive out of the city, close to Fredericksburg. They’re on a ranch….out in the sticks.” 

“Is that where you grew up?” 

“Yeah,” he can’t help but smile to himself. “It’s different now, but….my parents owned a strawberry patch.” 

“Are you serious?” 

It seems like a different lifetime ago, but Joel still remembers it all so vividly. The busy spring season, visitors from the city flocking to his family’s little farm in the middle of nowhere to pick the ripe fruit straight from the vine. His father had taught him how to mend fences and keep the pests away, and his mother taught him how to tend to the plants, to prune and nurture. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Joel shakes his head, continuing to recall. “Tommy and I would always try to sneak as many strawberries as we could without our parents noticing,” Joel recalls. “And then inevitably eat so many he’d make himself sick, then we’d both get in trouble.” 

“Oh my god,” you shake your head in disbelief. “This doesn’t sound real. I need photos.” 

“I have them…somewhere,” Joel says, and he’s sure they’re buried in a box in the back of his closet. 

“It sounds so…idyllic,” you say, shaking your head. Joel had never thought much of it. Of course, when you’re a kid, your perspective is so narrow. Maybe he didn't realize how good he had it, and he supposes, to the right person, it might sound like a lie. It dawns on him that you're both so fundamentally different, but it doesn't feel that way.

A timer dings in the other room. 

“That’s the oven,” you say, shifting away from him and standing up. You offer him your hand to help him off the couch, and he bats it away, buttoning up his jeans before joining you. “Let’s eat.” 

Joel realizes that all the stress from the day has melted off, and he can’t even remember what exactly had him so flustered earlier. Right now, everything feels alright. 

---

tags: @netflix-imagines @waymorecake4me @yaskna@venomous-ko@lomljigg@yeehawbitchs@ay0nha @eldahae @lol-im-done@melancholicmelanin@reggies-floatie @omniscientqueer@superflymaterial@mikkorantanev@zbeez-outlet @nadja-antipaxos @strawberri-blonde @jabbajambler @ponyboys-sunsets @kyuupidwrites @r4efromvenus @loveatfirstsight-atlastsight @korianderbandit @nicoleoeoeoe @hotgirlsshareaccounts @madisonred88 @crustyrustydusty @sflame15-blog @issybee0611 @darkemeralddiamond @grandmana @totallynotastanacc @ay0nha @virgogaia @lunarxeclipse @marysucks-blog @jabbajambler @surazim @naiomiwinchester @raindrcpsangel @dorotheapascal @mythical-mushrooms13 @chernayawidow @user294829329 @gushington-central @hollyismentallyillhelp @dresseduplikeacarcrash @corvusmorte @aheartgonewild @19891213 @emoslave44

-

-

-

-

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller series #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #the last of us #the last of us writing #tlou #tlou writing #pedro pascal #troy baker #sarah miller #tommy miller #pre-outbreak! joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo

[missmeinyourbones]

i remember thinking i had you ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

levi ackerman x reader | wc: 0.7k+ | L’s FOLKLORE event

“I can’t believe you don’t remember the name of the restaurant.”

Your accusation isn't one of malice or irritation—if anything, there’s a hint of competition laced into your words. A tone of challenge that sparks a fire inside of Levi’s chest. 

Your husband glances up from where he sits across the table from you, eyes unimpressed as they eventually return to the annotated novel before him. 

“It was years ago,” he states unenthusiastically, “and from what I recall, the food was subpar at best. We never went back there again.”

You watch him fiddle with the ballpoint pen in hand before scribbling something into the header of a page. You note the black ink smeared on the side of his pinky finger, trailing upwards towards his wrist. You fight off the sudden urge to kiss the bone that protrudes from where his forearm meets his hand.

“But it was our first date,” you emphasize with a whine, for clarification, “that’s supposed to be something you remember.”

Levi, now intrigued by your little tantrum—but still doing his best not to show it—closes his book with a sigh before placing it flat on the table. His knuckles wrap an antsy rhythm against the leather cover. 

With his full attention now on you, you can’t help but feel a little bashful beneath his glare. Even with a quick glance at the silver band adorning his left hand, an identical one hugging your own ring finger, his stare still makes you feel like it did all those years ago. The feeling of a fleeting crush that somehow resembles the weight of the world. A crush on your husband, the voice in the back of your mind giggles.

“Right, then what do you and your photographic memory remember about our first date?” he gives in to your antics, as he does every time. 

You smirk behind the hand your jaw rests on, as if you’ve been patiently waiting for him to ask this very question. 

With a smug raise of your shoulders, your answer is simple. “I remember thinking that I already had you wrapped around my finger.”

Levi scoffs as he raises an eyebrow, “On the first date? That’s rather bold, don’t you think?”

It is bold, but as you recall the memory, it’s nothing short of the truth. 

Five years ago, in a stuffy little Italian restaurant, over a debacle of entrées, you knew you had Levi in the palm of your hand.

“One of our first phone calls was an hour long conversation about how picky you are—about how you hate certain vegetables and always look up the menus of restaurants before eating at them.”

Levi follows along, but seems to miss your point as his head slightly cocks to the side.

“Right…and?”

“And, you still switched meals with me when I didn’t like mine,” you can’t help the dreamy smile that etches its way across your skin at the memory, “even though it had eggplant in it. You hate eggplant.”

Your husband hides a blush behind a scowl as he rolls his eyes. “I was trying to be a gentleman, the dish was terrible.”

“It was the premise,” you’re quick to correct him.

It was never about the first date or the name of the restaurant or the stupid overcooked eggplant. It was about him, and the sacrifices he makes for you without a second thought. 

“You barely knew me and yet you were already going against your high standards to make me happy,” your voice is a soft whisper now, but Levi still hears it clear as day, “that’s what I remember about our first date.”  

The confession is tender and sits in the center of the table that separates the two of you. Though he’d always deny if ever confronted, Levi appreciates it—the way you notice his tiny acts of devotion. He always hoped you felt the love embedded into them, and with a silly discussion of your first date, he officially confirms his wish.

His taunt betrays the flushed pigmentation on his face, “Funny, I remember you having food all over your face for the majority of night.”

You pout at his gentle tease and he laughs beneath his breath, picking up his book once more.

Lifting it high, you can no longer see his handsome face, but the spine of the novel can’t swallow his voice.

Behind the annotated pages, he whispers. “You did have me, though.”

Your eyes light up as you lean into the ledge of the oak table. “On the first date?” 

Levi hides a knowing smile behind his book. 

“Mhm,” he confirms without hesitation, “on the first date.”

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman drabble #levi drabble #levi ackerman fluff #levi fluff #levi fic #levi ackerman fic #L’s FOLKLORE event!

[banzaitaka]

Hello! I enjoyed the two pillars and Kagaya reacting to Kagaya's son giving them friendship bracelets, May I request Sanemi, Obanai and Tengen react to receiving a friendship bracelet as well? Thank you!

---

In all honesty, I didn't expect so many people liking that one so much, but damn, I'm happy you do

Demon Slayer Masterlist

I hope this is what you wanted & you enjoy reading!

Sign of friendship #1

Sign of friendship #3

Obanai Iguro x male! reader

Sanemi Shinazugawa x male! reader

Tengen Uzui x male! reader

.

Sign of friendship #2

(Y/N) Ubuyashiki was known to be a little, gentle and kind bundle of sunshine. His bright personality could make anyone forget all the gruesome parts of the world at least for a little while, giving them an opportunity to rest and lower their guard.

That’s why everyone was so fond of him, especially the hashira and his father Kagaya. (Y/N) would often play around the whole place, wether it’d be at his father’s side or wherever one of the hashira’s were training, eating or meditating. The boy truly loved every single one of them. They made him feel safe and secure.

So, one day, he decided to let them know in a special way.

"You called for me, young master?", Obanai kneeled down infront of his master's son, both out of respect and to be more on eye level with the child. (Y/N) nodded cheerfully, his impatience visible by the way he bobbed up and down on the spot, "I have a very important item to give you, mister Obanai. One you shall keep safe.", he said in feign seriousness.

Obanai tended to take (Y/N) serious, no matter how much his instincts told him it was all meant in a playful manner. He couldn't risk disrespecting the young boy, after all. So he held out his hands, "Of course." The boy's happy giggle urged the black-haired to listen to his gut feeling more, and play along and only act like he was tasked with protecting a valuable artifact. Obanai wasn't one to be playful, though, so he refused.

He watched (Y/N) pull out something out of his sleeve. Mismatched eyes widened as he realised it was merely a bracelet, clearly handmade. The chriping of the birds around them was all that accompanied the silence between the two for a few long seconds. Laughing at the older one, (Y/N) let the bracelet fall in Obanai's open palm, "A sign of our friendship!", he cheered, "So don't loose it, hehe."

The hashira inspected the accessory. Upon further inspection he made out two eyes on one of the white beads. The beads were supposed to be a snake, making it's way around in a circle until it met its tail.

"Look! I have a matching one!", the boy held his wrist next to Obanai's hand, which was, indeed adorned by an identical bracelet. The black-haired wasn't sure what the correct response to this act of affection was, so he just slid the bracelet on, "Thank you, young master."

Sadly, (Y/N) missed out on the sight of Obanai gliding his fingers over the head of the snake bracelet with a fond smile under his bandages.

"Hm?", a tug on Sanemi's haori made him stop in his tracks as he was leaving the meet up spot after a hashira meeting, locking eyes with (Y/N) who was grinning up to him. "You are not dismissed yet!", the boy tried to pout, but his smile broke through very clearly. Sanemi could only nod with lightly furrowed brows while (Y/N) dragged him out of sight of any bystanders in the vicinity.

The hashira wasn't at all worried about anything, he knew the boy was a playfull little one. Someone who loved to drag him along, often to play, which is what Sanemi thought was his mission right then. "I can't stay for long, young master. There is a mission I need to prepare for." (Y/N) nodded along, promising it wouldn't take even five minutes.

As soon as (Y/N) was satisfied with their location, he let go of the hashira. Giggling to himself, he fished out something out of his pockets, with his back turned to the older one. He quickly hid both his hands behind his back when he turned around, "Which hand?"

A guessing game? Yeah, Sanemi wasn't really happy about being pulled from his important work for something like this, but he humored him nonetheless, it was his master's son, after all. "Your left."

Giggling even louder than before, the (Y/HC)-haired revealed his left hand, opening his palm in the process. There was a bracelet with thin, silver beeds, as well as a few pinwheel shaped ones. "A bracelet?", the man took the item out of the other's hand, inspecting it further.

That's when (Y/N) revealed his other hand from behind his back, holding an identical bracelet in his palm, "As a sign of our friendship!" He urged Sanemi to put it on, like he did himself, grasping both his scarred hands in his own small ones. "Do you like it??", if it weren't for Sanemi's sturdy body, the boy would've made him loose his balance from how hard he was shaking his arms out of excitement.

The silver-haired didn't dare to let a sweat drop roll down his face, "Yes, of course. Thank you, young master." Satisfied with the older one's answer, (Y/N) let out yet another giggle and went in for a short hug, before disappearing.

Alright. Time to prepare for the upcoming mission. ...After making sure to put this gift somewhere safe and secure.

The hint of a smile was present on Tengen's lips, his eyes closed as he sat on the grass, arms and legs crossed. Someone was approaching, someone small. He could feel their presence, slowly sneaking up on him. And the hashira played along, letting them come closer and closer. Just to dodge to the side when they went to jump on him, catching them with one arm.

"Eek!", (Y/N) yelped, making Tengen laugh, "Nice try, but there's still plenty of room for improvement." (Y/N) pouted at him halfheartedly, climbing up his arm to wrap his arms around the older one's neck, "You say that, not noticing I succeeded in my mission!", he giggled out. "Oh?", only then Tengen noticed something shiny on his thigh. He blinked at it, stunned, "Wow. You made more process than I thought!", he sent the boy clinging on him a big grin.

"Is this for me?", he then asked, picking up the accessory and gliding the pad of his thumb over the diamond-like beads. (Y/N) nodded wildly, "I saw the beads and immediately thought of you!" Tengen chuckled, gently shaking of the kid to slide on the bracelet, "It's perfect! So flashy and vibrant! You have a good eye, little one."

(Y/N) giggled happily, as the hashira patted his head, "Thank you! I made a matching one for myself. See? It's a sign of our friendship, you know?", he tugged on his sleeve to show off another bracelet, matching Tengen's. "A sign of our friendship, huh?", the man smiled fondly at the handmade bracelet around his wrist. He will show off this one for sure.

#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer x male reader #obanai iguro #obanai iguro x reader #obanai iguro x male reader #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x male reader #tengen uzui #tengen uzui x reader #tengen uzui x male reader #x reader #x male reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimitsu no yaiba #kimitsu no yaiba x male reader

[extraclevermongoose]

Tender Prey

Orin the Red x Tav/Reader

TW: period sex, blood drinking, Orin being... Orin

With everything else happening, it was easy to forget about your period. When you take a morning off to recoup from particularly bad cramps, your plans are derailed by an unexpected visitor who is a little too interested in your current affliction.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52868542

You were never one to sleep in, even on mornings where all you wanted to do was laze in the grass like a cat. You preferred to rise with the sun, if for no other reason, then for the sake of a moment to yourself before the rest of camp stirred. It was a little more difficult since you had settled into actual rooms at Elfsong, but you quickly managed to sniff out a quiet spot on the roof to greet the dawn with coffees and teas. 

Today, though, the cramps had won. You were mildly panicked when you woke in the night to a bloody clot in your underwear and a thunderous ache clenching at your pelvis, until it clicked in your head. You cleaned yourself up, secured a thick rag in your fresh undergarments, and climbed back into bed to wallow in misery. It was your first period since the tadpole insertion, and the stress of, well, everything had screwed up your cycle so badly that your uterus apparently felt the need to put in some extra oomph to compensate.

It was Shadowheart who found you curled in your bed long after everybody else had dressed and ambled downstairs to seek breakfast in the tavern. She initially grumbled at you for not alerting her that you needed healing, but once you corrected her, her furrowed brow softened with sympathy. 

“Well,” she sighed, “I suppose you have earned a rest, since you felled an undead king the other day and all.” She raised a stern finger, but spoke with a playful tone. “But just this once!” You laughed, and she slipped out with a gentle smile, promising to tell the others to give you the morning. 

And so, off went your friends. Some went to follow up on a lead for the location of an unfortunate clown’s pelvis while the rest went on various errands of their own agenda. Before he left to once more try and negotiate his way into the forbidden book stash in Sorcerous Sundries, Gale charmed a long sock of dry corn kernels to act as a makeshift heating pad. They wouldn’t be gone for more than a few hours, but it brought the promise of a morning to yourself to move at your own pace. Within a half hour, you drifted back off with the sock draped over your lower belly and the dream of a proper hot bath.

You woke sprawled on your back, feeling heavy and sluggish. To your dismay, the heat in the sock had almost entirely diminished and what had originally been a relief now felt cumbersome – less like a sock of corn and more like a tepid dead eel plopped over your midriff. Frowning, you reached to push off the offensive sock and your hands collided with something fleshy and clammy. You quickly blinked yourself awake, and were greeted with a familiar pair of solid gray eyes less than a foot above your face. You startled with a loud gasp, and the woman straddling your waist split her lips into a smile suiting a jackal.

“The underling is a sound sleeper,” she cooed and slowly shook her head. “Unwise. Very unwise these days.”

You bucked your hips and tried to find purchase to push yourself up and knock her away, but she simply dropped deadweight onto your midriff, sending a jolt of pain up your belly and back. You yelped and flinched, and in a blink, she gripped your wrists in each hand to pin your arms to the bed.

She tutted. “Oh, but you are unwise, I see.”

“What the fuck are you doing here, Orin?” you spat. “I already agreed to help you. You swore immunity until we complete our end of the bargain!” 

Orin released your wrists, and as you tensed your limbs to try again to buck her from you, she slid her dagger from her lower back. You froze, wide eyed.

“Oh, oh! The little lamb quakes in its sheets,” Orin mocked with an exaggerated brow. She cackled. “If I wanted to drip-drain you empty, little fool, you would be rotting in a gutter by now.” She ran a delicate finger along the edge of the blade. “You will not perish at my hand this morning. Lord Bhaal demands a grander masterpiece – your supple meat to become an exquisite effigy worthy of his honor. No, we must wait until our blades dance before the eyes of His faithful.”

Orin slid the dagger under the hem of your sleep shirt and pulled upward. The fabric pulled taut against your back, and with a chorus of tiny pops and snags, the steel ripped through and the halves of the shirt furled helplessly across your breaths. 

“There are many hungry mouths begging to taste your drip-dripping from our sacred floors,” said Orin. “To waste your sticky-sweet obliteration in a common bed-slaughter where it would go unwitnessed by those who have craved such for a lick of your sinews…” She gasped, shuddering, and ground herself against your abdomen, a surge of cramping pain howling through your womb. “An affront,” she sighed.

You hissed in pain. “Then why –”

“I merely wished to observe the underling’s progress,” she interrupted, “and was snagged and snarled by a most curious perfume.” She wedged her face into your neck, burrowing her nose into you. "You are wreathed in crimson succulence,” she murmured and inhaled against you deeply, hungrily. “And yet, not that of the lordling." She licked a slow, breathy strip from your collarbone to your ear – hot, metallic. The hand without a dagger traced between your legs, and warmth pooled in your belly, curling through the haze of muscle ache. 

“I am bewitched on your humors, lamb,” she whispered in your ear, making you shudder. “Now I must drink and drink and drink.” 

She dragged the tip of her nose down your sternum. The hairs spanning your forearms and up your spine bristled at the ghostly touch, the softness of a shrike’s feather before impalement. 

"Give yourself to me,” she hissed, “I will render your bed our loving abattoir.” 

She bit down into your breast. Your pained cry urged her sharp incisors deeper into your soft flesh. Warmth bubbled to the surface, and a fat blood droplet rolled from a puncture down the curve of your ribs like an itching teardrop. Orin lapped across the wounds, eyes locked on yours, and she rose with her broad tongue slack from her lips, streaked in watery red. She curled it back into her mouth and her head tilted back slowly. She sighed dreamily, and swooped at your chest with bared teeth. 

You yelped when her teeth dug into your tender, swelling skin, drawing streams of red that leaked under the corner of her lips. She sucked your bleeding breast into her mouth and released it with a wet pop. She lapped at the wounds as quickly as the blood replenished, smearing blunt ruddy streaks of saliva to crust across you. The curling rasp of her tongue numbed the pain in sweet, fleeting reprieves, only for the burn to throb again as soon as it passed. 

The intact counterpart, she gently rolled and massaged between her fingers. Long nails teased the flesh but never pinched so tight as to penetrate. The nipple in her caress stiffened and flushed from the stimulation just as the one framed by her black lips seared and seethed in needly throbs. Your chest bloomed in arousal and agony, the two intertwining their cruel fingers to dig into your core as if they were her blade.

You rolled your hips underneath her, the pain of cramps long overshadowed. She straightened her back and grinned down at you, marbled skin flecked with splatters of drying blood and black lips ringed with rusty layers, thicker patches caught in the corners and rimming her teeth along the gums.

“Sweet plaything,” she crooned. “Patience, patience.” 

She slid backward down your thigh, and with a sudden flick, sliced open the middle seam of your sleeping pants. She dropped her dagger to her side, and ripped the tear in your pants completely open. Another rip, and the snug press of your underwear and rag vanished. You wanted to protest the waste of so much clothing, but your body instead chose to open your legs, breath heavy and your pulse that of a hunted rabbit.

When she hooked her arms around your thighs and snaked her tongue into your cunt, you dug your head so firmly into your pillow that the sunbeams through your window blurred like water in your eyes. Orin’s nails dug into your leg muscle, leaving angry little crescents whenever she repositioned a finger. You relished the sting by now – almost wished that she was leaving puncture after puncture across your tender thighs. You wanted her to prick you where she pleased, to draw blood and drink you dizzy.

She curled her tongue inside of you, drawing it out in a luxuriously slow scrape and into her mouth. A whimper shuddered from her throat, and she licked a broad stripe between your labia. You pushed your hips toward her and she gripped you tighter, burrowing into you as deeply as she could. She angled your hips upward and with a pitchy growl, she rooted her face against your cunt in a fervor. Her sharp nose pressed against your clit, and you whined and ground yourself against her. The familiar tightness of a brewing orgasm coiled and pulsed within you, just out of reach.

She yanked her soiled face back, gasping for breath. She stared you down, and your heart fluttered under her glower. You had thought her beautiful the moment you first saw her deep underneath Moonrise, in the way that you would admire a viper and pray it never crossed your path. Strings of saliva, viscous with mucus and thickened blood dripped from her cheeks and snapped between your pussy and her lips. Her nimble tongue darted out to collect the clots and pooled blood in the corners of her mouth. Beautiful was not a worthy word for how she looked in that moment, with your blood painting her sharp chin and cheekbones and her upper lip curled in a snarl over her stained teeth. Orin was the embodiment of the horror nestled at the heart of desire; you trembled with fear under her hand, and yet you yearned to offer yourself as sacrifice to this feral and terrible goddess. 

Her breathing steadied, and she descended again, this time wrapping her lips around your clit and sucking harshly. You bucked and whined, your nerves electric. The tip of her tongue flicked at the bud as she sucked, and you bit into your hand to stifle the noises clamoring to escape your chest. The coiling heat of earlier tightened in your belly until you ached. You dug your heels into the mattress. Orin gripped your thighs with possessive fury. She opened her mouth wide, and bit down into your mons pubis, tongue flattening against your clit, and you spilled over the edge, helpless squeaks and moans spilling from your throat, and your hips jerking in little erratic jolts against her mouth. 

As you wound down, she lapped broad, thorough stripes to clean up as much spilled blood as she could taste. Orin lowered you back to the bed, her eyes hazier than usual. Without bothering to clean her face, she quietly slid from the bed and attached her dagger back to her clothing. 

Orin slowly swiped her finger across her chin, collecting a large drip of clotted blood, and licked it away. “It seems my senses have been righted once more. A worthy sacrificial lamb indeed! You may find me in the temple once you have collected the little tyrant’s Netherstone.” She smiled, all teeth. “I look forward to basking in your brilliant crimson once more.” Before you had a chance to speak, she fiddled with her finger, and disappeared in a smattering of color. 

You stared at the spot where Orin had stood seconds before, and blinked blankly, unsure of how to react. So, that was it? You couldn’t say you expected Orin to be the stay-and-cuddle type. Frankly, that sounded more dangerous than… whatever had just happened. You sighed and decided that you probably ought to take a bath and do something with your ruined clothes before your companions walked in. 

You stood up, and when you saw the bed, you felt your face drain. In the whirl of everything, you hadn’t considered the bed, and sure enough, the blanket and sheet both looked like you had robbed them from a murder scene. You closed your eyes, and began to mentally prepare a cover story for asking a very uncomfortable Prestidigitation favor.

#bg3 #orin the red #orin/reader #orin x reader #orin the red x reader #bg3 x reader