#i was not prepared for this surge of motivation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

br7ght · 4 months

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In the cards (part 2) jenni hermoso x alexis putellas x lucy bronze x ona batlle x reader

Race Against the Body Clock

summary: part 2 of the orgy fic, enjoy lovelies

warnings: orgasm race, fingering, oral sex, praise, fight for dominance

pairings: jenni hermoso x alexia putellas x lucy bronze x ona batlle x reader

co-author: @occasionallyaurora

part 1

part 3 will be up tomorrow <3

The room stood calm, for the moment being, air still thick with sexual tension. You sat in desperation between Alexia’s legs, head resting on her chest as she stroked her fingers through the lengths of your hair. Your body facing away from the other three, not taking to the group environment as much as Ona was. The freckled brunette was still lying against the coffee table, dress hitched up to her waist, and arousal dripping down between her legs.

Lucy reaches for the deck of cards, it’s now her turn. She smirks at Ona as her hand purposefully grazes past her body to reach them. The woman’s eyes gleamed at the words she held in front of her, sending a devilish look towards Alexia. Lucy knew that this was a card of the blonde’s own creation.

“Race against the body’s clock,” Lucy’s smirk grows. “First to make their girlfriend orgasm wins.”

The words barely process in your brain. You look at the competitiveness surging through the two dark haired women, now glaring at the other like they’re lifelong enemies. Alexia leans back, already enjoying the competition before her. She’s looking rather pleased with herself, the card had worked and she was about to see it take place in front of her.

“Well, what does the winner get?” Jenni asks curiously, her line of vision flicking between you, Alexia, and Lucy. Jenni’s eyes are dark, brimming with confidence, knowing that she could easily win this competition; especially if you had just been edged. She knew your body too well. If there was enough motivation, Jenni could make you cum in under a minute.

“I don’t think you will need to worry about that.” Lucy’s eyes narrow at Jenni, before her eyes find Ona’s. She’s now sat up, gazing longingly at her girlfriend as a result of the previously spoken words.

“Why don’t you both get on with the challenge and I’ll figure out the prize for our lucky winner,” Alexia teases, wanting nothing more than for Jenni and Lucy to get on with it so she can watch it all play out. The blonde watches as Lucy peeks in several of the coffee table drawers, eventually circling back to the center one and plucking a small bullet vibrator that had caught her eye. She hands the toy to Alexia with a wink.

“Let’s make the view a bit more interesting for you too.” Jenni seethed as Lucy spoke, cocking her head to the side before shaking in disbelief. She wanted to have the control, but Lucy fucking Bronze was not going to fall easily into the little box. Alexia’s cheeks flushed pink as she grabbed the vibrator and slides it in place below the waistband of her underwear in preparation.

“Did you enjoy having Lucy’s hands on you?” Jenni’s now focuses her attention on you, and your head immediately turns to face her. She’s raised herself from the armchair and walked towards you. A hungry expression filling her face as she licks her lips. Jenni tilts your head up using two fingers under your chin, but your breath hitches as the hand slides down to your throat, eventually settling. Her fingers squeeze gently causing you to whimper. “Answer me.” The grip tightens ever so slightly.

“Yes,” you answer honestly. Your brain didn’t quite process the question while you were more focused on Jenni’s hand around your throat. The hand tightened even more at your answer, but you knew she was only doing this to make Lucy know that she didn’t have you like Jenni did.

“Is it better than mine?” Jenni’s long fingers were splayed against your neck, her fingertips now pressing to give you a heavy rush to your head. Your whimpers are getting harsher now. “Choose your answer carefully,” Jenni warns you.

“No.” The response short and sweet. Jenni’s grip loosening allowing you to now see how she was looking at you. She was basically drooling over you and your mauve lingerie. The hand that was around your neck slipping lower now, groping each covered breast. You whimper yet again when she leans in closer and nips gently at your neck.

“Whose good girl are you?” Jenni whispers in your ear. The question alone incited a sweet, but quiet, moan in the back of your throat.

“Yours, Jenni.” The words couldn’t flow easier from your lips. You knew the right answers; the answers that would make sure your orgasm wouldn’t be delayed in any way. Jenni smiles and you could feel it against your lips. Your silent pleads for your lips to meet together going ignored. She teases you by just grazing them against yours.

“That’s right princesa. You’re my good girl, not Lucy’s; and now you’re going to prove it.” Jenni finally gives in, her hand reaching around the back of your neck and pulls you the inches closer that were needed for your lips to collide. As much as the kiss with Lucy had doubled your arousal, almost nothing comes close to the way that Jenni kissed you with such lust, desire, and passion. The way she made you melt into her as her tongue swiped against your lower lip, pleading for entrance.

After she pulls away, Jenni slowly drops to her knees before you. This unintentionally gives you a view of Lucy and Ona. Lucy was kissing down the length of her girlfriend’s body… her naked body, a change you clearly hadn’t noticed while Jenni was speaking to you. Ona was a sight that could make anyone desperate to have her, chest rising and falling, and back ever so slightly arched as you watched Lucy take a hardened nipple between her lips. The small moan that fell from her mouth made you quietly gasp.

The other pair watched Jenni as she stripped your skirt the rest of the way down your legs, completely revealing the full set of mauve lingerie, in all its glory. Jenni pushes your thighs open, her hand quickly, but softly pressing against your centre, and feeling the wetness of your underwear against her palm.

“Absolutely soaking for me baby. I haven’t even touched you yet.” Jenni smirks as you whine in response, pushing your hips up towards her face, but receiving nothing in return.

“I thought this was a race,” you now smirk, reminding her. That was until you heard the silence… well, not complete silence, Ona’s whiny gasps still echoing around the room. Jenni was quick to remove your underwear, almost ripping them. They land at the other end of the couch along with your top. Jenni grips your thighs, tugging you to the edge of the cushion and towards her mouth. The feeling of her flattened tongue lying against your cunt made you moan deeply, louder than anyone in the room. Your thighs were thrown over Jenni’s shoulders, but the way you were laying back against the couch was slightly uncomfortable. It didn’t matter though, all you could feel was the length of Jenni’s tongue lapping at your folds, tasting your dripping arousal with such urgency.

Alexia hadn’t made a sound this entire time, until Jenni noticed and reached up her dress finding the button on the vibrator and clicking it on. You crooked your head to look up at your other girlfriend, gazing longingly at her as she gasps and writhes against the small toy.

Your awe-filled stare at Alexia was quickly snapped as Jenni found your clit with her tongue and began drawing quick precise circles around the bud. All Jenni wanted to do was prove a point, your moans that filled the room, overtaking Ona’s, did just that.

Lucy and Ona were in their own bubble of pleasure when you peeked at them again. The dark-haired woman had her head buried between Ona’s thighs. She was struggling against the pressure of Lucy’s hands trying desperately to keep them open.

“Stop watching them. Focus on Jenni's tongue, cariño,” Alexia gently snaps, her hand finding its way into your hair. It’s the only place she’ll touch you, not wanting to have too much input on the inevitable orgasm. Nonetheless you groan feelling her nails on your scalp. Jenni’s touch is getting quicker against your clit, her fingers edging closer towards your entrance.”

“Please, Jen, please,” you beg at her teasing when her hand stops for a brief moment. All you needed was her fingers to be pushed over the edge as your orgasm was quickly building again just off the movement of her tongue. She responds quickly, thrusting one finger into. You moan louder in response. “More, please, Jen. I’m so close, fuck.”

As soon as her second finger stretched into you the pressure of your orgasm brimmed in your stomach. Her tongue had found the perfect rhythm against your swollen clit. Your hands threaded through Jenni’s hair now, attempting to get her as close to you as possible. She wouldn’t have been able to pull away even if she had wanted to with how tightly you were holding on.

“Luce, I’m cumming. Please don’t stop,” Ona gasped out. At that Jenni’s tongue circled with a harder pressure than before. The thrust of her fingers perfectly curls and brushes your sensitive spot each time.

“Fuck, Jen. I’m cumming too,” you whine through laboured breaths and high-pitched moans. The orgasm washed over you with such intensity that you felt your body esplode against Jenni’s mouth. You let go with one long pornographic moan; your thighs dripping with your arousal, way more than usual. As you opened your eyes, you saw that Jenni’s face was also soaked.

“Holy fuck, baby. You’ve squirted everywhere,” Alexia gasps as her hips still gently rock against the vibrator. It was just enough for her to gain a little pleasure from the scene that had just played out right in front of her.

“That’s a shame it wasn’t quick enough.” Lucy smirks, wiping her own mouth as she too gazed at you. “You always were a squirter.” Your cheeks flush a bright red at her words, mouth hung ajar from the aftershocks of your orgasm and the eye contact that Lucy had yet to break.

Jenni ignored the comments, instead kissing up your thighs and tasting the sweetness that had coated your legs, not seeming to get enough of it. Alexia shuts off the toy, leaning over you and placing a kiss first on your forehead, then your lips, a consolidation prize for knowing that Lucy and Ona had won the little competition between the four of you.

“You look pretty when you do that.” A quiet voice, one that had barely spoken, hits your ears and you sit up fully as Jenni removes her head from between your thighs. It may have been the tamest comment you had received all evening, but it was the one that made your cheeks the deepest red colour. Ona was staring directly into your eyes, while you struggled to keep the same level of contact.

“Well, why don’t you go and show her how pretty you think she is,” Lucy urges her girlfriend, licking her lips in anticipation. The younger woman nods as Lucy rubs her back in encouragement. You were frozen still. Ona was the only one in the room that you hadn’t slept with, let alone kissed. Though you had always been curious, especially when you considered how close the two of you were when you had played for United several years ago.

Ona nervously approached you, looking down at your lap and you gesture for her to straddle over your thighs. You wanted desperately for her lips to be on your skin. She did as you wished, you stroked the backs of her thighs as she sat down over you, her hands tucking small pieces of hair behind your ears before she finally leans in for a gentle kiss. One that sent shockwaves coursing through your body.

You grip onto Ona, pulling her closer. The kiss was so gentle that each subsequent touch made the both of you melt into each other. Ona pulls back slightly, your eyes meeting before you giggle into another kiss. This time you decided to take a little of the control, being the first to explore her mouth with her tongue. You pull her hair to gain better access between her lips. Both of you whimpering and whining against each other. Especially, when Ona readjusts herself, straddling just one of your thighs now, her hips subtly grinding against the heat of your bare thigh.

“She likes it when you pull her hair,” Jenni offers in a whisper. She roughly bites against the lobe of Ona’s ear as she pulls away. Naturally, Ona follows the direction and grabs a fistful of your hair in a movement that was significantly less gentle than she had previously been. She tugs your head backwards causing a moan to fall from your lips into her mouth. “See.” Jenni smiles proudly at the freckled woman.

Everyone was watching you; you could feel their eyes burning into your skin and you finally understood the desire to be the centre of attention.

“Do you want to know what your prize is now Lucia?” Alexia asks out of the blue. You and Ona both still as you wait to hear the answer. The blonde captain was grinning directly at you both when you catch Alexia’s eye. “I think these two might need some direction, don’t you?”

“Now that’s a prize that’s worth winning.” Lucy's face fills with an evil grin, her bottom lip finding its way between her teeth as she gazes down at the both of you. Ona is squirming against your thigh, the pair of you too chicken to make that next move with one another.

“Come on now. I mean I did make her squirt. I think I should at least get a little bit of input here,” Jenni instantly argues. Her facial expression eerily matches Lucy’s. They both wanted nothing more than to have complete control over how you touched one another; both of you would listen intensely wanting to please them and give them a show they so desperately wanted to watch.

“I’m sure we can form some kind of arrangement, but let’s focus on them for now.” Alexia, ever the moderator, has the final say coming to perch herself between the two women. One of each of Jenni and Lucy’s hands fall to her thighs, her head falling against Jenni’s shoulder as she too was desperate for some contact while they watched everything play out once more.

“Go on love,” Lucy gives the first direction. “Mark Ona up nicely for me,” she demands. You obey immediately, your lips connecting with her neck drawing sweet gasps from the younger woman as you nipped softly at her skin. “You can do better. She likes it rougher than that.”

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joshym · 2 months

Text

Muse

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: Your struggling artist is desperate for some inspiration.

Word Count: 3.4k+

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), unprotected p in v, oral (f! receiving), a smidge of sir kink, some spanking, a lot of fluff because i can't help myself, Jake draws a naked portrait of you (let me know if i've missed anything)

a/n: special thanks to this lovely anon for this brilliant idea. this was way too much fun to write.

this was inspired heavily by that scene from the Titanic. (you know the one.)

as always, thank you to my favorite editor/motivator, @jakeyt.

i hope you enjoy. ♡

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

His frustration is palpable, evident in the nearly incessant huffing emanating from behind the closed door of his studio.

It's moments like these that leave you feeling utterly helpless. There’s nothing you can do, no inspiration you can provide that will pull him from his artist’s block.

He's been holed up in there for hours, since the early dawn, lost in the depths of his imagination, sketching away. You know better than to intrude; he's never been keen on sharing his work until it's finished.

In fact, he's never once allowed you a glimpse into his creative process. "It's the strange doodlings of a mind overrun with ideas. It's not to be seen until it's in its final form," he's reminded you countless times when your curiosity gets the better of you.

Still yet, you're consumed by the desire to witness his beautiful mind in action, crafting masterpieces in real-time, each stroke flowing from his soul through his tireless hand on his Somerset velvet sheets.

But, like any artist, he’s his own worst critic. He’s never truly satisfied with anything he creates, though you are left utterly speechless after each piece he finishes. His mind is a beautifully profound chasm of endless wonder, manifested through his artistry.

You hate when he has these moments of doubt, these instances when he questions whether he’s truly capable of such greatness.

And you especially despise days like today, when he spends the better part of it feeling as though he has a mental brick wall in the way of his ingenuity, hindering his hand from bringing to life what his mind so desperately longs to conceive.

Commissioned pieces, like his project today, always hold the most weight for him— from the need to earn a living, to his persistent worry that his art might not meet the expectations of the client.

It’s not that he doesn’t love doing them, or that he’ll ever stop taking them; quite the contrary, they’re his favorite pieces to work on. They provide him with an added pressure that elicits some of his best work.

But, reaching that point can be rather strenuous for him. It can at times take days, weeks before he discovers the creative impulsion he needs.

And right now, he’s in that very rut, awaiting the surge of inspiration that will reignite his dulled spirit.

There truly is nothing you can do when he’s lost like this, and any effort you’ve attempted in the past has always proved useless.

The one thing you can do, however, is prepare him some dinner.

He’s hardly left his studio today, and you know he’s not eaten much, if anything at all. Perhaps a morsel of sustenance will ignite the dormant embers of his mind.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

After a quiet tap to the door, he invites you in with a serene voice.

He looks tired, but lovely as ever. The golden hour has officially set in the sky, and the opened curtains on the windows have allowed for a warm hue to encompass his studio, enveloping him in its delicate lume.

“That smells absolutely divine,” he remarks as you enter his studio, his plate and yours delicately balanced in your hands.

“I figured a little homemade pasta would do you some good,” you tell him while you pad across the floor to his work station.

With a sly disposition and a playful glint in your eye, you aim to steal a glance of his day-long project, but alas, you’ve been caught. Your sweet Jake misses nothing.

"Not yet, my love," he murmurs, flipping the page over as he takes your hand, planting a tender kiss over your knuckles. "You know the rules."

“I know, I know.” Your response holds a bit of remorse. You know better, but can’t begin to help the relentless desire to see his mind at work.

Setting his dinner on the desk he’s working from, you move yourself across the small office to the green chaise lounge that sits across from him, silently seeking his permission with your gentle glances. The smile in his eyes tells you that he’s more than happy to be graced with your company for the time being.

After taking a bite of the spinach tortellini you prepared, he unbuttons his white striped shirt, removing it from his shoulders and stretching his arms high above his head as though he’s ridding himself of the weight of his frustrations.

You can’t help your glare, watching him do something so normal yet so intriguing all at once.

His skin is velvety smooth, his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, his chestnut wavy locks sitting atop his broad shoulders. You’re in awe each time you look at him; the sheer magnitude of his beauty never fails to steal your breath away.

And his necklace, his most cherished piece of jewelry that he wears each and every day. The precious coin, a relic salvaged from a centuries-old shipwreck that hangs against his chest.

The way it sits on his bare skin is nothing short of elating, sexy. It’s a wonderful addition to his already captivating aura.

He’s flawless. Everything about him.

Once he catches your gaze, he responds with a sly wink, eliciting a blush that paints your cheeks a bright shade of pink.

Then, a thought begins to swirl around your mind for a brief moment. One that you’re shocked you’ve not conjured until now.

The vision of the pendant against his bare skin sets your own imagination alight.

“I’ve got an idea,” you propose, your voice soft and sultry, trying to pique his interest even just a little, something that may help the rusted wheels of his mind turn at full capacity once again.

While his focus remains on his work, his right eyebrow arches ever so slightly, and you catch the hint of a grin daring to curl in the corners of his mouth.

“And what might that be, my dear?” he asks with an unknowing, devilish smirk.

As you get up, he hastily flips the page back over to hide his work from you once again.

“Don’t worry,” you say as you move behind him, placing your hands on his bare shoulders. “I won’t peek.”

You glide your fingers along his skin, feeling the subtle rise of each goosebump in the wake of your gentle touch.

He hums inquisitively as you delicately take hold of the clasp of his necklace in between your index and thumb, undoing it in one fluid motion before slowly slipping it from around his neck.

“Be right back,” you say as you head towards the door. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds, a myriad of questions splayed across his features.

With light steps, you make your way down the wooden floors of the hall towards your shared bedroom. Hanging on the back of the door is your sapphire hued satin robe, adorned with a delicate lace detailing along the hem—the one Jake has always fawned over.

The satin drapes coolly against your skin as you slip it on, wearing nothing underneath, save for the weight of Jake’s necklace resting against your chest that you hide beneath the fabric.

You run your fingers through your hair, adding a subtle tousled look, before applying a light blush to your lips and cheeks to impart a bit of natural color to your complexion.

And with that, you're poised and ready.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

As you turn the corner to face his studio, you see a very weary version of your Jake. His head sits in the palms of his hands, his leg bounces up and down at a rapid rate—a clear sign of the mental battle he’s waging.

This is as good a time as any for your little idea, and you’re hoping that it’ll be the very thing he needs to find some much needed initiative to keep going.

“Hi, baby,” you venture, leaning your body alluringly against the frame of the door.

As he looks up, a familiar twinkle dances in his eyes—a sight you've longed for all day long. It's a glimmer that tells you he's rather fond of the vision before him.

“And what exactly is your idea?” he inquires softly, slowly standing from his chair. But you stop him, motioning for him to stay just where he is as you saunter towards the chaise you were seated on just moments ago.

“My idea,” you begin, making a very slow, deliberate attempt to untie the sash holding your robe together at the waist. “...is for you to draw me.”

As if your thought has affected him physically, his posture immediately straightens, and his once tired eyes hold a renewed sense of life as they watch you intently.

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

Your robe suddenly falls to the floor, revealing your fully nude figure that was hidden beneath.

“Oh…” he utters, his tongue wetting his lower lip before tucking it between his teeth. “You can’t do this to me, baby. I can’t look at you like this an–”

“Consider it a commission,” you interrupt, tracing your fingers lightly up and down the skin of your torso. “And when you’re finished, if it’s to my liking, you’ll receive a full payment.”

With a raised eyebrow, his gaze sweeps up and down your form, while his index finger lightly grazes his chin.

“You’re quickly becoming my favorite client,” he quips, wiping a stray bead of sweat away from his forehead, tousling the front of his hair in the process. “Consider it done, ma’am,” he continues with a confirming nod of his head.

You lay yourself down on the forest green velvet cushions, positioning yourself sensually across the chaise. Your body is turned slightly to the side, your leg gracefully crossed over the other, an elegant display of your curved silhouette.

The warm glow that is so beautifully cast upon Jake, is now cast upon you, the aura laying over your nude body like a golden blanket of light.

“Is this okay?” you ask him, draping your arm over the back of the chaise, making sure the coin sits meticulously atop your chest before your other arm falls to rest against your body.

He simply grins while nodding his head, his eyes drinking you in, a mix of surprise and desire evident within his expression.

“Yeah, that um…that’ll do just fine,” he tells you, the slight crack in his voice eliciting a smile from you, a break in his professional facade.

With a deep breath, he takes his prized Faber Castell 9000, carefully sharpening the tip just a bit before putting it against a blank sheet.

And then, as the true artist you know him to be, he begins without a hint of hesitancy. The gentle sound of the lead scratching away at the paper fills the quiet room— a sound you’ve come to cherish, a sound that signifies his craft is steadily blossoming to life.

He seems charmingly nervous, his hand gently brushing against his nose every so often between a series of strokes from his pencil, clearing his throat more than usual. His eyes flint to you, then back to the paper, then back to you, a succession of his adoration and determination, ensuring that the likeness captured in his art closely mirrors your essence.

You try to keep your face composed, a seductive allure about your features. But as you watch him, immersed in his passion, the way he’s studying you so intently, it becomes nearly impossible to suppress the beginnings of a smile upon your lips.

But despite your efforts, he takes note of the curve adorning your flushed lips, mirroring it with his own. “Relax your face for me, beautiful.” The soft rasp in his tone is enough to send a blush throughout your whole body.

Breathing in your nose and exhaling through parted lips, you’re able to reclaim your composure enough to steady your expression.

Every moment you share with him is a brushstroke of beauty, but something about this one stands out. The intimacy of it all, how he must diligently study every inch of your form to convey your image through his art, the intensity behind his focused gaze…your heart is racing in your chest, despite your relaxed demeanor.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

With the sun almost hidden behind the early moon, he completes the final stroke.

He lays his pencil down, gently blowing on the paper to remove any stray lead before he picks it up, examining it closely while he walks it over to you.

As he holds it out before you, allowing you to at last see his craft come to life, you’re left entirely awestruck.

“Oh, Jake.” The sight before you leaves you nearly breathless. It exceeds every expectation, beyond the boundaries of your imagination. It’s a portrayal of you, but not just that— it’s how he sees you.

It’s the first time you’re witnessing yourself through his eyes, and in that, you feel a profound sense of beauty within yourself that you’ve never known.

“Do you like it?” He asks, a slight tremor present in his voice.

“It’s…incredible, Jake.”

Propping yourself up a bit, you carefully take the drawing from his hands, poring over his vast attention to the detail in your face, your body.

Specifically your breasts, how perfectly he depicted their round curve above your rib cage, encapsulating the fullness and allure of them.

You’re entranced by the way he drew the contour of your hips, how he captured the dip in them that you’ve always looked at with disdain, yet in his portrayal, you’re able to see the beauty in what you’ve considered a flaw.

He encapsulated everything, even the faint freckle beneath the curve of your left breast, and the mole under your belly button. He managed to immortalize all the intricate nuances that you typically overlook.

“Is this what I really look like?”

“Yes, but,” he takes the drawing from you, placing it on the mahogany table beside the chaise lounge. He helps you lay back down, gently caressing your face that he’s just conveyed through his artistry as he props himself above you. “The essence of your beauty defies any depiction.”

Then, his lips envelope yours in a kiss so fervent, so ardent, as though he’s waited hours to finally have you within his grasp.

His hand moves with a swift grace to your breast, fingers toying with your perked bud. This erotic moment with him has you already so flustered, so sensitive to every touch of his hands.

He breaks his lips from yours, only to land them down the column of your heaving chest.

“You’ve no idea how hard it was for me to look at you like this, to look at these,” he mumbles against the tingling skin, hands kneading the flesh of your breasts. “And fight the urge to come place my lips on every inch of this beautiful fucking body.”

And just as he said, he bestows tender yet hungry kisses down the length of your torso, maneuvering his body down the chaise lounge until he kneels before you. He nestles his face perfectly between your thighs, his warm breath tantalizing your wet center from his dangerously close proximity.

“I certainly hope you don’t let all of your clients pay you like this,” you mutter, breathless and yearning for his mouth.

“Only the ones that tickle my fancy,” he says, his words adorned with a playful wink before he delves into you.

He laps away at your pulsing cunt, like he’s been starved for your taste this entire evening. The lewd, lascivious sounds he’s emitting from between your legs only serve to heighten your need for him, causing your back to instinctively arch away from the plush cushions.

And when his lips envelop your throbbing clit, his tongue swirling around it inside his warm mouth, your body trembles and shudders. A rush of warmth encompasses you, starting from the depths of your core, the pit of your stomach, spreading to every inch of your being.

You surrender to the intoxicating bliss, your breath catching in your throat while your heart pounds in a crescendoing rhythm.

He guides you through it, gently holding your hips in place while the movement of his tongue slows in perfect time as with the ebb of your climax.

“Oh, that was so beautiful, my love.” He lovingly kisses the inside of your thigh before he stands, removing the belt from his patchwork jeans. “Turn over for me, baby.”

“Yes, sir,” you quietly utter as you obey his demand, knowing good and damn well what that specific name does to him.

Just as he commanded, you turn your body over to your stomach, placing your elbows against the arm of the chaise, your back arched as much as you can so that your ass is sticking up just right for him.

“Love when my sweet girl calls me that,” he purrs before his belt hits the floor, his jeans and underwear quickly in tow and freeing his impossibly hard cock.

“So, what’s the verdict, my love?” You feel the cushion sink in behind you as he settles himself between your legs, his right hand caressing your hip while the other teases your soaked cunt with the tip of his cock, leaking with precum. “Was my work to your liking?”

You giggle breathlessly, poking your ass out even further as an offering to him for his hard work. “Yes, I believe you’ve earned your reward.”

He steadily begins nudging his cock into you, going slow at first, allowing you to fully adjust to him.

Inch by thick inch, he fills you completely to the hilt, your breath catching in heavy gasps that are robbed from your lungs as he buries himself deeply within you.

Your nails claw at the velvet armrest as his thrusts quicken in their pace, your upper body nearly going limp as you’re no longer able to easily hold yourself up.

His hands hold a firm grip at your lower waist, pulling you into his cock rhythmically, yet becoming more and more disordered as he’s beginning to lose himself to the pleasure.

You cry out a slew of obscenities mixed with his name, begging him to fuck you harder, faster.

Without question he complies, landing an open palm against your ass cheek. “So good for me baby,” he hums, his thighs slapping against the backs of yours as he drives into you just the way you need. “So fucking good for me.”

With one more vigorous thrust of his hips, you feel that familiar rush throughout your whole body as your cunt throbs and pulses incessantly around his cock.

“Fuck, I feel you, baby. Pretty little cunt squeezing me so tight.” You feel the twitching of his cock inside of you, an indication that he's on the very brink of his own release.

“Cum inside me, sir. Please…need you to fill me.” Your voice is faltered, your body still reeling from your second climax.

“Jesus,” he groans, moaning exasperatedly as your words have him spilling within you, filling you with his warmth just as you requested.

He stays buried inside of you as he catches his breath, feeling his release slowly trickling down your thighs as you struggle to fill your own lungs.

You have to fight the urge to protest when he begins pulling himself away from you, not yet ready for the empty feeling he leaves you with.

You practically collapse against the cushion, your body exhausted in the most enthralling way, the kind of exhaustion that only immense amounts of pleasure can bring forth.

“My sweet, beautiful girl,” he whispers, kneeling himself before you as he softly caresses your flushed cheek.

You kiss the pad of his thumb as it crosses over your mouth, summoning the strength to lift yourself up enough to steal one from his lips. “I hope it worked,” you say, gently cupping his face in your hand.

“You hope what worked, my love?” He asks, leaning into your soft touch.

“I was hoping this would help inspire you.” You reach for the drawing, savoring its beauty once more. “I was hoping I could help inspire you, pull you out of your moment of doubt.”

“My love,” he murmurs, setting the portrait back down before he gently brushes his lips against yours. “You inspire me endlessly, every single day.”

His tender smile warms your very soul as he leans in for a deeper kiss, imbued with all the love you could ever want for.

“You’re my perfect muse,” he utters against your lips, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

a/n: suffice to say, this inspired the hell out of me when i've lacked inspiration/motivation lately. thank you, anon.

if you have any juicy ideas, feel free to send them my way. ♡

love you guys.

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deliciousangelfestival · 8 days

Text

Nothing Has Changed - 4

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Words Count: 1,740

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Chp 1, Chp 2 , Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 ,-

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

“It fucking sucks,” you muttered, frustration dripping from every word.

Tom, your dad, reached out a hand, his smile a fragile thing, but a smile nonetheless. "At least I've got my kid by my side," he said, his voice raspy.

You saw the tremor in his hand, the glisten of unshed tears behind his eyes. He was trying to be vital for you.

You stared at him, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirling behind your eyes. Here he was, facing his own mortality, yet a ghost of a smile played on his lips.

Acceptance. A horrifying, unwanted acceptance that twisted your insides. You wouldn't accept it. Not this. Not yet.

Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drum solo threatening to burst through your chest.

The air felt thin, stolen from your lungs with each labored breath. You shot up from your chair, the movement jerky, fueled by a potent mix of terror and defiance.

Tom noticed the panic in your eyes.

“Don’t fall apart. Don’t fall apart,” you kept repeating to yourself, the words a desperate mantra as you tried to hold yourself together.

Your hands trembled, and tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall.

After hearing the diagnosis, it felt like your world was collapsing. You were on the brink of shattering into pieces, teetering on the edge of insanity.

Everything would never be the same again.

You couldn’t stay in the room any longer. You ran to the backyard, your steps frantic and unsteady. Once outside, you screamed as loud as you could, “Aaargh!”

The scream tore from your throat, raw and primal, as if expelling the anguish that threatened to consume you. It felt like if you didn’t scream, you might have a heart attack.

You collapse to your knees; the grass is cool and damp beneath you, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Tears finally streamed down your face, and you didn’t bother to wipe them away. Your body shook with sobs, each one wracking your frame with the weight of your grief and fear.

After letting out your stress and tears, you realized that the core of your anxiety was fear. But what exactly were you afraid of?

The first problem was straightforward. You knew you hadn't engaged in insider trading. You had provided proof. If they still insisted you were the culprit, you had a final, desperate card to play: blackmail. You had a little black book filled with records of suspicious transactions at Drysdale company.

Returning to your hometown was another source of stress. Meeting your tormentors again was daunting, but you hadn't done anything wrong. You were the victim, not the perpetrator.

Then there was your father. No one could have predicted his illness. It was the cancer's fault, an enemy that medicine and chemotherapy could potentially defeat.

You’d come so far. All the hardships you’d faced over the years seemed to have prepared you for this moment. Life sucked, but you had to keep fighting. Survival was the only option.

You looked up and saw the moon. The night was clear, not like the city; here, you could see the moon perfectly.

You clenched your fist, lifting your right arm and extending your middle finger to the sky. "I will win this fight," you declared with defiance.

The cool night air filled your lungs, and you felt a surge of determination. It was as if the universe had thrown everything it could at you, but you were still standing.

You turned back towards the house, feeling a new sense of resolve. This was your life; no matter how hard it got, you were ready to face it head-on.

When Tom saw you walking back into the house, he looked up with concern etched across his face. "Are you alright?" he asked softly, his voice trembling slightly.

You nodded, your eyes meeting his. "I am," you replied, your voice steadier now. "I’ll stay here beside you, Dad."

Tom’s eyes filled with tears; it's been a long time since he heard you call him 'Dad.' He reached out a shaky hand towards you. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Thank you, thank you."

You walked over and took his hand in yours, feeling the frailty of his grip. You gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I should have been here more," you admitted, guilt washing over you. "I'm sorry for being so distant."

Tom shook his head, his tears spilling over. "No, sweetheart, I’m the one who should be sorry," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I pushed you away, and I’ve regretted it every single day."

You sat down beside him, still holding his hand. "Let's not dwell on the past," you said, your voice firm but gentle. "We have now, and that's what matters. We'll get through this together."

Tom nodded, a weak smile breaking through his tears. "Together," he echoed. He pulled you into a hug, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of peace.

As you held each other, the weight of the past seemed to lift, replaced by a new sense of hope and unity. The moon outside shone brightly, casting a soft light into the room, symbolizing a fresh start for both of you.

🚗

For the past couple of days, you’ve been staying with your dad, taking care of him, and accompanying him to the hospital. You listened intently to the doctor's explanation about his condition.

The cancer Tom has is dangerous, but it's still treatable, provided he keeps up with the chemotherapy and medication. The truth is Tom doesn’t want to go through the grueling process of chemo, but having his daughter by his side gives him the strength to endure it. Because of you, he’s willing to fight.

When you drove back home, you noticed another car in the driveway. It was Bucky's.

Tom, while taking off his seat-belt, nervously told you, "Bucky is... ehm... he's helping with the funeral for tomorrow."

You, not caring at all, replied, "I don't care."

Tom looked relieved. He had thought Bucky would become a thorn in the conversation again. "I'll go inside and help him," he said, opening the car door and heading into the funeral home.

You said nothing and grabbed your phone, which had been buzzing for a while. You picked it up from near the car radio.

When the screen showed the name of your lawyer, 'Maya,' you felt a surge of relief. "Hello? What's the result?"

"You're right. They couldn't prove it," Maya said.

You clenched your fist in silent celebration. You had won.

"But," Maya added.

You felt a bad feeling in your gut. "What's the bad news?"

"It's from your office. They fired you," Maya revealed.

You tapped the steering wheel with your fingers, anger bubbling inside you. You had expected this. That damn Drysdale. You knew they would throw you away at the first chance.

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, feeling the heat of your anger rising. "Those bastards," you muttered under your breath. "After everything, they still screwed me over."

Maya sighed on the other end. "I'm really sorry, but I thought you should know as soon as possible."

"Thanks, Maya," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "I appreciate everything you've done."

Hanging up the phone, you sat in the car momentarily, seething.

You had lost your job, your reputation was in tatters, and now you were back in a town filled with painful memories dealing with your father's illness. The universe was conspiring against you, but you refused to break. You wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

As you sat in the car, grappling with the news of your firing, you suddenly noticed Bucky exiting from the funeral home and heading to his car. Something snapped inside you, a surge of rage and frustration boiling over.

You didn't know why, but in that moment, it felt like the devil had taken control of your body.

Your foot slammed on the gas pedal, and the car lurched forward, speeding straight towards Bucky.

Bucky heard the roar of the engine and instinctively looked up, locking eyes with you. In that moment, your gaze held an intensity that could rival the sun itself.

You wanted to hit him, to unleash all the pent-up frustration and anger that had been simmering inside you for years.

Bucky's heart skipped a beat as he realized what was about to happen. He stood frozen in place, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts in the split second before impact.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the distance between the two of you closed rapidly. Bucky closed his eyes, bracing himself for the inevitable collision, a rush of adrenaline flooding his veins.

But at the last possible moment, you swerved the car to the side, narrowly avoiding Bucky and his car. The screech of tires filled the air as you skidded to a stop just inches away from him.

Bucky's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at you, wide-eyed and breathless. The air crackled with tension, the unspoken words hanging heavy between you like a dense fog.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the silence stretching taut between you like a drawn bowstring. Then, with a shaky exhale, Bucky took a step back, his gaze never leaving yours.

You flung open the car door with a forceful slam, the sound echoing in the tense atmosphere.

Bucky leaned against his car trunk, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of apprehension and resignation.

"You scared? Clueless? Wonder why I want to hit you?" you seethed, your voice dripping with anger.

Bucky swallowed hard, his throat dry with unease.

"That's how I felt when you and your group bullied me," you continued, your words laced with venom. "I want you to remember that feeling."

As you stormed away, leaving Bucky standing alone by his car, he felt a heavy weight settle in his chest. His arms crossed tightly over his chest, an unconscious attempt to shield himself from the pain of the truth you had just delivered.

"I deserved that," he murmured to himself, his voice barely above a whisper, but each word heavy with regret.

Despite the gravity of the situation, a tiny flicker of admiration sparked within him. "But, damn," he murmured to himself, "that was so cool."

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xbabyd0lli3x · 2 months

Text

♡A Profiler's Dilemma Spencer.R♡

A/n- go follow @me-writes-prompts, this link

In the bustling precinct of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, Spencer Reid was known for many things: his brilliant mind, his unparalleled ability to solve complex cases, and, well, his endearing awkwardness. But there was something about you, his colleague and confidant, that always managed to catch him off guard.

As the team gathered around the whiteboard, dissecting the details of their latest case, Spencer found himself stealing glances at you more often than he would care to admit. Your intelligence was undeniable, matching his own in many respects, but it was the way you effortlessly balanced professionalism with a hint of mischief that intrigued him.

During a particularly intense discussion about the unsub's potential motives, Spencer felt a gentle nudge on his arm. He turned to find you standing beside him, a playful glint in your eyes.

"You're so cute when you try to keep a straight face even though you're obviously blushing," you whispered, barely audible over the hum of conversation in the bullpen.

Spencer's cheeks flushed crimson, his attempt to maintain composure failing miserably. He stuttered for a moment before managing to regain his focus, though the teasing smirk on your lips made it clear that you had caught him off guard.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer had harbored feelings for you for quite some time, though he had never found the courage to confess. Working alongside you every day only made it harder to suppress his growing affection.

As the day progressed and the team delved deeper into the case, Spencer found himself seeking out your company more frequently, relishing in the moments of camaraderie and shared laughter. Despite his best efforts to remain composed, your presence had a way of unraveling him, exposing the vulnerable side he often kept hidden from the world.

It wasn't until the team adjourned for the evening, the case still looming over their heads, that Spencer finally mustered the courage to confront his feelings. With a nervous flutter in his chest, he approached you as you gathered your belongings at your desk.

"Hey," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I, um, I wanted to say... that thing you said earlier, about me blushing... I, uh, I wasn't exactly... prepared for that."

You turned to face him, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Sorry, I couldn't resist," you confessed, your eyes twinkling with amusement. "But seriously, Spencer, you don't have to hide anything from me. I... I kinda like you, too."

Spencer's heart skipped a beat at your admission, his mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions. He had never imagined that you could feel the same way about him, yet here you were, standing before him with a vulnerability that mirrored his own.

In that moment, surrounded by the quiet hum of the empty bullpen, Spencer knew that he had found something worth holding onto. With a newfound sense of courage, he reached out to take your hand in his, a tentative smile gracing his features.

"I think... I think I'd like to explore this, if you're willing," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded in response, your fingers intertwining with his in a silent promise of what was to come. And as you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, Spencer couldn't help but feel a surge of hope blossoming within his chest.

For in that moment, amidst the chaos of their unpredictable world, Spencer Reid knew that he had found something worth fighting for: a love that transcended boundaries, defying all odds in its pursuit of happiness.

#strawberrytalks .⋆🪼⋆. ⭒#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff

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mpreglover225 · 5 months

Text

Edward, a 35-year-old single professional male surrogate, found himself in a world of agony at the birthing suite of the private male luxury Surrogacy center. Two weeks overdue, he was enduring a labor that pushed his body to its limits.

The room was dimly lit, with soft music playing in the background to create a soothing atmosphere. Edward lay on the hospital bed, his body covered in sweat as he clenched his teeth to suppress his screams. His well-built physique was now twisted with pain, the muscles in his abdomen contracting and releasing in waves.

Dr. Markham, a skilled obstetrician, stood by Edward's side, his eyes filled with concern. "Hang in there, Edward," he reassured him, his voice filled with compassion. "You're doing great. Just a little bit more."

Edward's face contorted in agony as another wave of intense contractions swept over him. He gripped the bed sheets tightly, his knuckles turning white from the strain. Beads of perspiration dripped down his forehead, mingling with his furrowed brow.

"Fuck, it hurts!" Edward exclaimed, his voice trembling with pain. "This fucking labor is killing me."

Dr. Markham nodded understandingly. "I know it's tough, Edward, but remember, you're helping fulfill the dreams of a couple who long to have a child. Your sacrifice is commendable."

Edward took a deep breath, trying to find some solace amidst the agony. He closed his eyes and visualized the faces of the loving couple who would soon cradle their newborn in their arms. Their hopes and desires provided him with strength and motivation.

As the contractions continued, Edward's moans filled the room, mingling with the sound of his heavy breathing. The pain radiated through his entire being, leaving him feeling vulnerable and exposed. Yet, he persevered, determined to see this through to the end.

Dr. Markham monitored Edward's progress closely, his skilled hands ready to intervene if necessary. The room was filled with an air of anticipation, as the medical team stood prepared to welcome the precious new life into the world.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Edward's body began to relent. The contractions eased, and a momentary respite washed over him. He breathed a sigh of relief, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst the lingering pain.

Dr. Markham smiled warmly at Edward. "You're almost there, my friend. Just a few more pushes, and you'll meet the little one."

Edward's determination surged within him. With renewed strength, he braced himself for the final stage of labor. The room filled with his grunts and groans as he pushed with all his might, the intense pressure building within him.

And then, in a burst of raw emotion and physical exertion, Edward gave one final push. The room erupted with the cries of a newborn baby, filling the air with a sense of awe and joy. Edward collapsed back onto the bed, his chest heaving, a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration coursing through his veins.

As the medical team attended to the newborn, Edward's eyes welled up with tears of relief and accomplishment. He had done it. Through pain and perseverance, he had brought forth new life into the world, fulfilling the dreams of others.

#male pregnancy #mpreg #mpreg birth #mpreg belly #mpreg kink #pregnantman

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constantcrisis19 · 1 year

Text

Vow Renewal

Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN S/O

AN: I changed the titles around because it seemed to fit better this way, so this is a new story in the married series. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2,026

Main Page

You woke up to the sound of Ghost’s alarm, a groan of protest bubbling up and out of your mouth as you reluctantly rolled off of Ghost in order to blindly throw an arm out, smacking your hand against the buttons on the top of the alarm clock at random until the annoying beeping abruptly cut off.

With the horrid noise silenced, you took the opportunity to unceremoniously face-plant into the nearest pillow with a low grumble of complaint since you had never been much of a morning person.

Ghost usually had far less trouble getting up at the ass crack of dawn, the bastard.

While you were more or less wallowing in your misery, Ghost’s bottomless brown eyes had half-opened when you’d moved away from him, the man looking just as exhausted and worn out as he had the day before.

Although that was only to be expected considering that the two of you had finally arrived back at base late in the evening after a particularly stressful and dangerous mission that had taken a week and a half to successfully complete.

“I know, love.” Ghost mumbled groggily as he rolled over to look at you with creased brows, reaching out to gently but firmly lay a warm, calloused hand on your lower back as he shifted across the bed in order to lazily rub his cheek against your shoulder in a affectionate nuzzle that reminded you of something a cat would do.

“Ugh… I need no less than an entire pot of coffee before I even think about being functional today.” You grumbled, your voice muffled by the pillow that your face was buried in. It was a half-hearted attempt to smother yourself at best, but the notion of eternal slumber was starting to seem pretty damn tempting to your sleep-deprived self the longer that you laid there and stewed in your woe.

“Can’t understand you.” Ghost grunted, sounding a bit more awake but no less tired, and the gravel in his voice gave you the surge of motivation you needed to turn your head and squint at him from over your shoulder. Ghost was hovering above you like an omen of death, staring down at you with half-lidded eyes that were somehow still razor sharp despite how utterly fatigued he looked.

“Coffee.” You said simply because you figured that pretty much summed up your earlier statement, especially since your blunt bid for caffeine in the form of delicious coffee was punctuated by the fact that you could hardly keep your eyes open.

“Fine.” Ghost said with a heavy, long-suffering sigh that was normally only reserved for you and a certain energetic Scotsman before his hand slid off of your back and he sat up, stretching attractively with a low grunt of satisfaction when his spine cracked and popped in several places.

He looked horribly stiff and achy, but he still threw the covers back in preparation to leave the bed since you had made the mistake of offhandedly mentioning that you could use a cup of coffee to help you find the energy to drag yourself into a modicum of order.

The fact of the matter was, in Ghost’s fractured mind, your needs and wants would always come before his own because his first priority in any and all given situations the two of you might find yourselves in was to make sure you were safe and that you wanted for nothing. Which was not exactly a stellar example of a healthy mindset, but you were working on teaching Ghost that he was allowed to let you take care of him too, which was an ongoing battle.

“Simon.” You called, your hand sliding over the bed to catch his wrist before he could get up, the man obediently pausing even though his thighs were tensed in an aborted attempt to stand and holding that position had to be hell on his sore muscles. He stiffly turned to look at you, his brows furrowed in a wordless question as his gaze searched your face.

“Don’t go.” You said quietly as you gently tugged on him, silently beckoning him closer, and Ghost seemed to soften at your plea for him to stay. He went along with your guiding touch easily, twisting around and dropping onto all fours in order to prowl over to you like some great beast.

Ghost even laid down on his back without resistance when you directed him to do so, the man wrapping one of his arms around you and running his thumb across your shoulder absentmindedly after you bonelessly sprawled out on top of him.

“Better?” Ghost asked dryly, although there was an undeniable undercurrent of warmth in his otherwise bland tone.

“Yeah.” You mumbled as your eyes fluttered shut, tucking your face into the crook of his neck to breathe him in. His familiar and soothing scent of gunpowder, cardamom, strong English breakfast tea, and tobacco made you melt into him, as if you and Ghost could somehow fuse into a singular entity instead of remaining two halves of a whole, forever cursed to walk in separate bodies.

“You know, you make a great mattress.” You mused with the beginnings of a smile curling onto your lips, adjusting your head so you could prop your chin up on Ghost’s chest. “But you’re an even better pillow with these glorious man-titties of yours providing all this cushioning.” You snorted, planting a kiss that was equal parts playful and teasing in the valley between his pecs with a wolfish grin.

“You’re a fuckin’ slag.” Ghost muttered without any heat, the lackluster attempt to insult you completely ruined when the corner of his scarred lips quirked into a hint of a smile for a split second before his expression smoothed back into his typical stoic detachment.

“Don't try anything, I'm not in the mood.” Ghost added in a decidedly disinterested tone, though his hand moved from your shoulder to your back in order to start running his palm up and down the length of your spine in a repetitive motion that was so tender that you swore that your heart actually skipped a beat.

"You better make it up to me later then, seeing as I'm exercising self-control and all.” You said slyly as you braced your hands against the bed on either side of his torso, leaning forward to kiss Ghost with tongue.

The wet and messy kiss drew a low sound of pleasure out of him as he responded by matching your enthusiasm and passion, his own tongue twisting and pushing against yours in a half-hearted battle for dominance.

And, when Ghost’s lips finally broke away from yours, his breathing was heavier. Although, he didn’t go all that far from you considering that your noses were still touching. His hooded gaze darted from your spit-slick mouth to your eyes a few times before he surged up to kiss you again like he just couldn’t help himself, though this particular snog came across as far less lewd and more worshipful.

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't." Ghost murmured with a barely there smirk when he eventually separated his mouth from yours for a second time, and it took you an embarrassingly long moment for your scrambled brain to make the connection between what he had just said to your earlier comment about getting intimate.

“You’re stone cold, Simon.” You lamented dramatically, flopping back down onto his chest with a huff. Ghost grunted when you landed, probably knocking the wind out of him with the sudden and unexpected addition of your full weight dropping onto him without warning. “Worst husband ever. I want a refund.” You muttered as you tucked your face back into the crook of his neck, mostly to hide your smile because you were trying to be miffed about his smug reply to your blatant flirting.

“Good luck returning me when there’s no receipt, love.” Ghost deadpanned, though there was a thread of amusement in his tone.

“My ring is my receipt.” You retorted without missing a beat, tilting your head to the side in order to brave a peek at him, fighting a smile when you witnessed the moment that his jaw clenched in a telling manner. You didn’t even have to see his face to know that he wasn’t happy about your casual remark.

“I won’t be responsible for what happens if you ever try to give that ring back to me.” Ghost’s voice was a low, guttural rumble that reverberated through his chest and directly into your body seeing as you were all but plastered to his front.

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end in an instinctive response to the threatening sound, though you weren’t actually all that intimidated despite what your hindbrain had to say about hearing such a menacing sound so close to your person.

“Oh, how ominous.” You hummed, amused despite yourself because Ghost was such a possessive guard dog, circling you with raised hackles as he gnashed his teeth at anyone who showed so much as a modicum of sexual or romantic interest in you. “Reminds me of when you hacked a terrorist's limbs off because she took your ring and threatened to melt it down before pouring the molten metal down your throat.”

“No one touches my things.” Ghost said darkly, and the protective way that his hand traveled up your back in order to cup the nape of your neck while his other arm curled tightly around your waist indicated that he wasn’t just referring to his ring.

“Like a dog with a bone.” You chuckled with a hopelessly fond smile, trailing your knuckles over his thigh to soothe him.

“More than a dog, love.” Ghost spoke in a severe voice that would make you uneasy had it been anyone else using such an unsettling tone in your vicinity. “I’m a beast hiding in the shadows, waiting to tear apart anything that might threaten you. I’m the darkness to your light, the sentinel that watches your back, the strength that holds you up when you buckle. I’m a shapeshifter, I become whatever you need me to be.”

It was probably the most you had heard him say in one go for as long as you had known him, he was a man of few words after all. He only spoke when there was something constructive or important that needed to be said, when he felt that a devil’s advocate was needed.

But what he had just said to you was nothing but a blatant declaration of his love, of his unwavering devotion.

"Fucking hell, Simon. If I hadn't already married you, I'd get down on one knee right now." You said breathlessly, rearing up onto your arms in order to stare down at Ghost with wide eyes, one of your hands raising up off the bed to gently cup his cheek. You took pleasure in the way that Ghost’s unfairly blond lashes fluttered as he leaned into your touch like a man starved, openly basking in your warmth.

"Be my beast, be my darkness, be my sentinel, be my strength. But let me be the only one who can bring you to heel, let me be the light you need when the darkness you lurk in threatens to swallow you, let me be the voice that tells your demons to back the fuck off before I declare war. Let me be your safe place." You whispered, soft and reverent.

“Till death do us part.” Ghost stated with a steadfast conviction, spoken with such unwavering certainty that a lump of emotion formed in your throat. There were no words in your vocabulary that could possibly convey how not even death would keep you from him, how you would come back to him again and again in any and all lifetimes that you shared.

Fortunately, it seemed that you didn’t have to say anything at all because Ghost had heard it, he had heard all that you couldn’t manage to say and returned the sentiment in the form of leaning up to rest his forehead against yours.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod mw 2022 #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #married y/n #childhood friends #friends to lovers #domestic fluff #banter #ghost is hardcore whipped #there's nothing quite like a lazy morning in bed

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jackles010378 · 2 months

Text

Regarding Y/n

What if it was you that got hit with the memory loss spell instead of dean? Dean and Sam try everything to cure you....

(Dean winchester x y/n)

In the quiet town of Lebanon, Dean and Sam, were grappling with a challenge unlike any other they had faced before. It began when y/n Dean's girlfriend jumped in front of him to shield him and accidentally became the victim of a powerful memory loss spell.

Dean paced back and forth in the bunker, his heart heavy with concern "I frickin hate witches" he yelled. He couldn't bear the thought of y/n forgetting him and the time they had spent together. She was the love of his life, and the idea of being a stranger to her was tearing him apart.

Desperate for a solution, Dean picked up his phone and dialed Rowena's number. The powerful witch, usually a source of knowledge and assistance, was the only hope he had left. But to his dismay, Rowena informed him that she had encountered this particular spell only once before and had been unable to find an antidote.

Left with no other choice, Dean set off on a mission to locate the witch responsible for casting the memory loss spell. Sam stood by his side, ready to help his brother however he could. He didn't want to leave y/n on her own so he phoned Jody and Donna, both women dropping everything to come be with y/n, the women that once saved their lives. Dean knew it would be a treacherous journey, fraught with danger and uncertainty.

Their first lead led them to a small town on the outskirts of Kansas. The locals spoke of a mysterious woman who had recently arrived and possessed unique magical abilities. Dean and Sam tracked her down and demanded answers.

The witch, Lilya, revealed that she had cast the spell under the command of a rogue coven, seeking to eliminate any traces of supernatural interference in their lives. The coven had brainwashed her, exploiting her powers for their nefarious purposes.

Determined to help y/n restore her memories, Dean and Sam convinced Lilya to guide them to the coven's hideout. They ventured into the heart of the forest, where dark magic permeated the air. The brothers had faced countless supernatural threats in the past, but this felt different. This time, their objective was not to destroy evil, but to save their loved one.

As they delved deeper into the hidden lair, Dean and Sam encountered a series of increasingly complex traps and spells meant to deter intruders. But nothing could stop their unwavering resolve. They fought through every obstacle, leaving no stone unturned.

Finally, they reached the inner sanctum, where the coven gathered to harness their powers. A battle ensued, the sound of spells reverberating through the room. Dean fought with all his might, his motivation fueled by the love he harbored for y/n.

In the midst of the chaos, Sam managed to find the original witch, the one responsible for casting the memory loss spell. Power crackled in her fingertips as she prepared to attack. But Sam, quicker than lightning, intercepted her, overpowering her with sheer determination.

With the threat eliminated, Dean rushed back to y/n, trembling with anticipation. He held his breath as he recited the reversal incantation he had discovered during the fight. And as the words left his lips, a surge of energy enveloped y/n, her eyes widening with recognition. After the spell she passed out. Sam Jody and Donna looked on, panic set in their faces. Dean picked her up off the sofa and carried her to their bedroom. He lay her gently on the bed fearing the worst.

A few days had passed and Dean was getting worried, but then she whispered his name as her eyes fluttered open, "Dean." Relief flooded through him, as though a weight had been lifted from his heart. y/n's memories returned, washing over her like a tidal wave. She held onto Dean, tears of joy and relief streaming down both their faces.

From that day forward, Dean and y/n cherished every moment they spent together. The experience taught them the importance of love, resilience, and the unbreakable bond they shared. And amidst the chaos of their hunter lives, they never took a single memory for granted again.

TAGLIST: @k-slla @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @janineb86 @deans-daydream @alternativeprincess94 @nescavaneck @angelbabyyy99

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #jackles #jensen ross ackles #supernatural #spn cast #deanwinchtser #jensen ackles gifs #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

Text

Playing with Fire

Part 1 (ft. Riddle and Silver) I Part 2 (ft. Trey and Kalim) I Part 3 (ft. Jade and Lilia) I Part 4 (ft. Deuce and Jamil) I Part 5 (ft. Malleus and Ruggie) | Part 6 (ft. Cater and Rook) | Part 7 (ft. Sebek and Floyd)

In which Gordon Ramsay-kun is isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland. Part Food Wars, part Hell’s Kitchen, all Master Chef—Night Raven College isn’t ready to take on this Michelin Star celebrity!!

As the age-old saying goes, “if you play with fire, be prepared to get burned”! Will Idia and Ace be able to withstand the chef forged in the flames of hell’s kitchen?

asdhbasildsb PRETEND LIKE THIS ISN'T BEING PUT OUT AFTER THE EVENT 😭 (At least I'm all caught up on Master Chefs now...)

Imagine this…

"Alright, let's start cookin'!"

"HOLD IT!! Where do you think you’re going, Trappola?!”

"Gack!" Ace felt himself being yanked back by the collar, forcing the air out of him. The Ramshackle Prefect had him in a formidable grip—one rivaling that of Riddle's iron fist. "What's the big deal, stoppin' a guy from makin' a meal?"

A drawn-out sigh came from behind Gordon. “Fwehehe… Leave it to Ace-shi to solo-rush the boss battle… He's the type to button mash to skip past the tutorial and jump straight into things."

Annoyance surged up, and Ace spat out his heated words. "Oi, can it! Least I'm not shaking in my boots before getting anywhere NEAR the kitchen!"

“Not looking like that you aren’t.” Gordon flicked the first year’s chef’s hat, setting it askew. “Fix your hair! We don’t want any of it getting into the food.”

“Yeees, sir,” Ace groaned with an eye roll.

Gordon glanced at Idia, taking in the few hair clips he had scrounged up to clip his bangs back.

“You, Shroud!” Gordon snapped at him. “All your hair’s got to go up.”

“E-Eh…? All of it? B-But Ace-shi doesn’t have to! Th-This is gamer discrimination!!”

“Are your ears not working? Yes, I said ALL of it.” Gordon pointed to the blue flames that sprouted from the dorm leader’s scalp. “It has nothing to do with your hobbies, you’re a walking fire hazard!! What’s going to happen when a drop of oil hits you?”

“B-But my hair doesn’t even behave like regular fire does…” Idia mumbled, earning a glare from his instructor. “E-Eeep!! I-I got it, I’ll do it already!!”

“Oh, how the tables turn,” Ace sniggered as he secured the last of his bangs. The rest of his hair was too short to maneuver under his hat, spiking out on either side of his head.

“Alright, I’m gonna go ahead! Smell ya later, senpai!” He threw a wink and a wave at Idia before prancing into the kitchen.

The cheek and cheer made Idia cringe. What little motivation he had for this class wilted down to cinders.

He sniffed and mournfully did away with his hair, tucking every last bit of blue out of sight. When he at last dragged himself to the kitchen entryway, he hesitated on stepping through.

Haunting memories plagued his mind—the booming demands, the door being bashed down with fists and frying pans. Two monstrous men hovering above him as he cowered in a ball. The darkly easygoing expression on Floyd, Sebek in an imposing, militant stance, glaring down at him.

“Oi, Firefly Squid-senpai. This all the noodles you got? You’d better tell the truth or else Crocodile-chan and I will squeeze you senseless~”

Idia's fingers trembled terribly at the thought. Clamminess collected on his palms. The room seemed to spin

Gordon materialized by his frozen student's side.

“In you go then!” He gave a firm smack on Idia’s back, propelling him stumbling forward.

Ace, already at his station, looked up from inspecting bell peppers. A rainbow of red, orange, yellow, and green filled several baskets-but when he saw Idia, the peppers’ bright colors paled to Ace's massive grin.

“BAHAHAHAHAH!!” The first year keeled over, unable to contain his laughter. One arm cradled his stomach to keep himself from collapsing, the other pointing a knife at his upperclassman. “YOU TOTALLY LOOK BALD!!"

Idia flushed, shrinking into his chef's uniform. Were his hair visible, the flames would have, no doubt, been tinged pink with embarrassment.

"S-Sure, go for the low blow and pick on the guy whose character looks like crap in the event exclusive armor... This is why I wanted to send my tablet for this course instead of coming in person!!"

"Not bloody likely."

Idia stiffened at their instructor's voice, and the sharp clap that followed it. The sound echoed like static tracing along his scalp. His culinary nightmares had only just begun.

"If you've got the time to fuck around, you have time to cook. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, you two!"

Gordon Ramsay made sure to plant himself squarely between Ace and Idia's work benches. Knowing what chaos the kitchen grounds could breed, he didn't want to take any chances by leaving either or unsupervised. Not again, not after so many sessions with NRC's various problem children.

Chop, chop, chop...

"Groan..."

How many times have I taught this course by now? Gordon mused to himself, dragging a hand over his face. The horrors he had witnessed brought back the beginnings of a migraine, the slow simmer of rage.

Chop, chop, chop, chop, chop...

"Groooan..."

They aren't all bad kids, he thought. Some were just misunderstood, overeager, or lacking the technical abilities. Patience, Gordon, patience. They're children. They have plenty of room to grow.

Chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop…

"GROOOOOOOOOOAN!!

He snapped.

“… Trappola, your task is to cut the bell peppers, not to complain as you do it!!" Gordon bellowed with a huff.

"But teeeach," Ace whined, "there's so many veggies!! Why do I have to be the one to chop them all, anyway? Just cuz it's easy doesn't mean I like doing this, y'know!! My hand hurts, it's totally cramping!"

"You have the talent to make them the same size and shape. That will help the peppers cook more evenly once we throw them on the heat." Gordon pointed to another basket full of peppers. "So suck it up!"

“Can’t you make Idia-senpai split this work?! He’s barely doing anything on his own anyway, and a cute little underclassman like me sure could use the extra helping hand!”

Gordon deadpanned.

“What?! I am cute,” Ace insisted, “and I wasn’t joking about wanting that helping hand.”

“And you’re not getting it.”

"Uggggh, fiiiiine.”

Ace unenthusiastically returned to his chopping board. As he brought his knife down, bisecting a crimson pepper, his expression lightened with a realization. “Hey, you know what? With so many peppers lying around, I could cram an extra helping of it into Deuce’s portion!!”

Gordon frowned. “… Is that seriously what’s motivating you?”

“Haha, yup 🎵”

What a fast turnaround. Perked right up.

“All I need now’s a dish that’s easy to hide peppers in! What should I go with? A soup? Stir fry? Oh, ooor I could do an omelet—the ultimate betrayal!” He snickered in a self-congratulatory manner. “Deuce won’t ever know what hit him!!”

The master chef heaved a sigh and glanced at Idia’s station, leaving Ace to his mise en place. “And how are you doing over there, Shroud?”

Idia jumped at the mention of his name. His fingers, sticky and (aptly) peppered with pepper seeds, were fumbling with measuring spoons.

"I-I'm fine..."

"Well, what's taking you so long? In the same time Trappola's knocked out a few crates, you've been standing around twiddlin' your thumbs."

"S-So what if my stat growth is a little slower than Ace-shi's?! Cut me some slack here, this process couldn't be more inefficient if it tried!!"

Idia furiously shook his head. "It'd all be done by now if I had a machine to throw together a meal... instead, I have to tediously measure spices by hand and deal with this stuffy place. These steps could all be automated."

Gordon snorted, unimpressed with the dour attitude. "If everything were automated, you'd be putting a lot of people out of their passions."

"Jobs," Idia corrected. "You mean their jobs."

"No, I mean their passions," Gordon shot back. "A fire burns because it has fuel, and passions exist because of the spirit behind them. That's something no A.I. could replicate."

"Hihihihi..." A smug, challenging smile emerged on Idia's blue lips. "Try telling that to Ortho. Bet he could perfectly recreate any recipe you throw at him in record time. Think you could honestly take him? Heh, bring it."

“You certainly changed your tone quickly—but if you can talk like that about your own creation, then I’d better see that same energy in your dish.” The closest pan was gripped and handed to a slack-jawed Idia.

“B-B-But…!!”

“Let’s see you put your money where your mouth is.”

Gordon was already at the stove, cranking up the heat. A circle of flames erupted from the burner. In the glow of the fire, Gordon appeared not human, but like a demon chef from hell.

“I-I wasn’t built for this!!” Idia wailed in protest, only to have a spatula at him.

His instructor’s response was blunt and full of snark. “Perfect opportunity for you to ‘get good’, then. There’s no teacher like experience.”

Idia struggled to produce a counter argument—but his mind was moving fasting than his body. Gordon had seized the arm with the pan by the wrist and guided it to the stove, adding a splash of oil to it. The third year flinched as heat crept onto his skin.

“Peppers in, and cook until tender!!” Gordon ordered. "If you can’t take this much, you won't last long in my kitchen!"

Idia fearfully obeyed, tossing in a few of the peppers he had just washed. The water droplets crackled upon contact, and—

Crackle, sssszzzt, POP!!

“E-EEEEEEeeEEeEP!!” Idia launched back, dodging the flecks of hot oil that sprayed at him. Cook until tender? The apprentice chef would be tenderized sooner than the vegetables would!

“Hoo, boy. This is gonna be a looong class,” Ace muttered from his station. "Dude has no chill at all..."

“Haven’t I suffered enough?! J-Just put me out of my misery alreadyyyy!!”

“We’ve only just started, boys!!” Gordon barked. There was no mistaking the blazing passion in his composure and in his eyes. “Put your backs into it!! I’ll make men out of you yet!!”

#twst #twisted wonderland #Idia Shroud #Ace Trappola #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #disney twisted wonderland #Gordon Ramsay #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #Gordon Ramsay in Twisted Wonderland #something no one asked for #imagine this #beyond the looking glass #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #can’t believe we’re now 16 students in to Master Chef #SORRY FOR ALSO GETTING THIS OUT LATE BUT AT LEAST IT'S NOT DURING ANOTHER MASTER CHEF THAT I HAVE TO ACCOUNT FOR #if twst won't give me bald!Idia then I will make it happen myself.

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theinnerunderrain · 2 years

Text

In the midst of dreams [Yan! Scaramouche x Fem!Reader]

Warnings: Yandere implications, disturbing texts.

Note: I also want to give a big thanks to @cocosakuya15 for suggesting the idea! I'm honestly not completely caught up on the genshin lore so I don't really know how Nahida's powers work but it sounded like a fun idea to write about!

It was no secret that children have been the only ones in Sumeru who can dream due to their innocence.

Humans in general utilize their dreams as a way of organizing their thoughts, regulate their emotions, and even occasionally to carry their aspirations to life. Perhaps it resembles a realm in which they can freely wander on their own, free from the constraints of Teyvet or the divine principles. Animals dream in a similar way to how people do in order to assimilate and comprehend their habitat, obviously their dreams are not going to be as complex as humans but it's nevertheless the ability to dream.

Dreams are the very foundation of life.

Ever since she took Kunikuzushi, Nahida has considered the possibility that the puppet may well be capable of experiencing dreams. Nahida would assume it is conceivable since even a simple being such as a rat can dream, although clearly their dreams will differ greatly from those of a simple human. Therefore, it is logical to assume that a puppet created in the likeness of an archon would be capable of dreaming.

Isn't this theory intriguing to comprehend?

Given that he was within her responsibility and had started to show signs of perhaps emerging out of the coma during the past three days, Nahida wouldn't deem her actions inappropriate. She only intended to observe his mental condition since whatever he was dreaming about was causing his body to spasm, other times he would mumble incoherently under his breath.

He was bound to wake up soon, Nahida was certain of it.

Nahida inhaled deeply and channeled all of her energy toward the immobile man. She presses her fingertips against the temple of his forehead as a sudden surge of force rushes throughout her body. She waited and watched, anticipating nothing to result from her hypothesis, as everything appeared to become still. The man can perhaps be nothing more than a puppet, a lifeless shell devoid of feelings or heart. So it wouldn't be so surprising if her hypothesis is wrong.

Perhaps Nahida made the wrong assumptions, was the Shogun capable of dreaming? She couldn't recall.

It was silent for a moment.

Nahida was so worried for him that she almost believed her conclusions were incorrect and that she was simply hallucinating his behaviour. Nahida had to admit that she had a feeling of responsibility over Kunikuzushi, similar to the emotion a parent would have for their child. She was conscious that it was a tad hypocritical given their relative difference in age, but perhaps she felt sorry for him after knowing of his abandonment and the motivation behind his actions?

Instead of intruding into his thoughts in this way, Nahida could simply consult him when he awakens. Although she has her worries about his ability to be entirely honest, she has predicted that given his coma, his personality may diverge from the norm to some degree.

Nahida watched for a few more seconds, but she saw no evidence of development or even the slightest hint of movement from the young man.

She might have been mistaken after all.

But as she prepared to get up from the chair, she suddenly felt a loud ringing tremor throughout her head and heard a sudden swarm of voices. She grasped her head as she struggled to steady herself against the bed as the sounds crept into her mind, causing a faint tone of anguish to emerge from her lips. Although it appeared that several people were speaking, Nahida could tell that it was only one person. The voices simply represented the various stages of the person's life and the thoughts and feelings he was experiencing at the time.

It was Kunikuzushi.

Guilt, rage, apprehension, joy, and love. Those were the sort of emotions he experienced.

[First Name].

[̴F̴i̸r̶s̸t̴ ̷N̷a̷m̸e̶]̴.̴

[̸̧̙͍̥̺̎F̵̥͙̆̉̈͘í̷̡̗͈̓̓̓ȓ̴͕̣͖̬̌s̵̢͎̩͆̌̇̃͛͜t̴͈̒̀ ̵̡̎̽͘͝Ń̸̢̫̘̗̞̇̓̕̚a̴͓̬͙̞̳͊̉͊͂̚m̷̝͝ė̴̛̻̩͍͉́]̷̟͚̏.̶͎͙̆̑͛̄̓

F̷̭̗̣̯̱͎̼̹̗͔̈́i̶̢̘̠̲̰̫͚̺͇̅̃͊͐̿͐̃͌̋̔̃̕̚͘͝ͅr̵̻̖̟̫̈̓̓͋̽̀̂̈́̄̈̃̿͘͘͝s̵̟̭̰͗ͅṫ̷̡̢̗̹̹̱̪̈́͌̈́̇͂̀̒ ̵̲̃̈́͋̉͊̒̎̿̔̓̐͝Ṇ̴̨̬͚̰̦̗͒͆͋̕ͅͅà̵̺̖̬̥͙͇̱̐͐́́m̵̡̧̛͉̯͇̱̬͔͖̉̇ẽ̶̢̧͓̼̣̣̱̝͇͈͓̥͕̣͂̃̊͛͒̃͆]̸̢̨̜̹͇͔̇͂͛̂̆͘̕.̸̪͖͎̎̎̒̒͠

[̸̢̨̬̗̲̫̹͈̤͎͇͕̗̤͆͛̓̓̄͝F̶̢͕̮͉͌͊̄̓̂̓̏̈́͒̾̉́̾͆́̎͌̔̽́̔̕͜͝͠͝ͅì̶̜̄̿̊͋͘͘ͅr̷̨̡̢̦̘̤̝͙͍͙̹̖̻̄̌̏̏̊̀͐̃́̈͂́̀̆̓̔͌͒̌̒̅́̽̋̈́̉͝s̶̨̡̹̻͈̮̼̙̖͙̟̙̣̫͚̙̦̝̦̠͉̯͓̍̉̆͊͂̐͑̅̊͒̈́͒͌͋̈́̓̕t̸̡̧̛̛̛̛̪̬͇̣̝̪͙̙̎̑̉̓͆͒̇̊̄̈́̐̐̀̎́͌̀̅͗̐́̈́̕̚̕͠ ̴̧̢̢͓̩̠̟͙̠̘͖̤̻̝̥̜̉̂͌̉͂̕͘͜ͅͅǸ̸̡̪̪̖̱͍͈̭̲͉̺͖͕̜̗̩̮̖͍̫͉̰͙̳̬̘̰̲͕̭͑̈̆̕a̸̛̟͙̲̬̮͎̙̼̲͌̇̋̅̍̂̽̌̍̆̈́̾͆̃̿͊̿͗̎̆͝m̴̡̛͈͉͇̪̦̤͚̜̺̳̣͕͍̒͛͒̑̓̐̀͜e̴̡̼̬̫̫̰͇͕̻̜͚͎͓͕͉͈̦̻̰̘̗̼͇͍̭͙̯̕͜ͅ]̴̛̥̗͎̪̰̠͉̥̃́̄̾̀̑͐̃͛̓͛̌̊̽̒̇̏̈̒͂͠͝͠.̶̡̱̭̲̘̜̞̳͇̰̳̪͚̭̩̺̪͇͚̞̻̝̉̽͋͛̋ͅ

F̷͓͇̬̞̟̣͔̹̦͎̥̳̼̾̎͒͊̏̏̓͊͛͌͆̆̒̋͆̌̀̀̊̐̕í̵̡̢̨̨̲̭̟̝̱̩͇̞͉̺̝̥̼͕̝̮͚̺̰̲̘̜̪̰̟̻̠͍͈̱͉̰͉̾̀̓̽̈́̍̌̃͊̌̋͋͗̐̂̉͂͜ͅr̵̨̧̡̨̼̤̞̘̯͉̠̲̮̳͓̜͓̰̝̞̪̭͚̱̰̝̥̥̪̩͈͇̗̳͖̯̘̬̒̀̉̍́̆̊́̀́̾̓͘͜s̵̡̡̧̢̨̛̛̛̲̮̙̠̰̖̻͔͔̣͈̱͕̤̩̭͍̤̬̰̖̟͓͍̩̖͍̦̟̞͎̹̹̾̾͛́̐̈́̌̋̽̒́̇̀͛̒̎̄͊̇̌̂̊̿̽̄̾͌̆͊̈́̃̌̓͆͘̕͜͜͝͝͝t̸̨̢̢̗̼̹̣̳̹͈̰̮̣̱̯̺̯͖̤̝̠̣̪͇̮̍͐͗̔̂̃͋͑̍̈́̃̉͒̐̔̍͒̽̀̃̽̓̋͊͑̃͗͊̚̕͜͠͝͝͝͠ ̷̧̛̙̲̩̤̠͈̗̟̝̯̠̣̺̘̠͔̜̬̗̫̰̰̠̠̝͓̣̾͐̏͗̐̾̎̾̈̐͊͑͝Ņ̶̡̢̨̧̙̹̭͉̞̟̫̟̞̜͍̬͙̺̱̜͔͚̯̤̥̞͍̹̠̹̣̙͍̳̥̩͍̋͑̂̇͐͒͒̋͂̒̿͆̆͑̎̇͗̄̏̎͂̎̊͋̉͐͘͘̚͜͝͝ͅą̷̧̧̢̡̛̪̗̝̝̰̘̠̠̙͍̻͚̲͍͉͈͖̥̘̦͎̺̦̙̈̽̅͌̊ͅm̷̢̢̹̖̘̹̬̟̞̝̭̟̝͓͔͍͉͙͕͕̜̲͖̯͎͓̠̙̏̏ͅͅȩ̴̢̡̧̡̛͉͎͎̞̠̝͕̬̠̞͔̼̥̜̦͙̼̯̮̖̗͓̣̙̩́̿̂̓̔͐̓͛͌̆͗́̿͗̈͝͝]̴̤̳͖̇̽͗̄͑̏̈̄͆̑̍́̈́̄͛̀͒͒̄̓̉̆͘͘̚̚͝.̴̢̡̧̛͖̠͉̥͖̻̻̙͕̞̞̯̱̼͙̙͍̘̟͎̟̪̪̰̠̄͊̄̒̉̒̅̀̓̈́̑̚͜͝͠͝

Nahida reeled back, feeling a jolt of surprise flood throughout her entire body. Her chest heaves up and down as an attempt to catch her breath, her head feeling somewhat warm, most likely from the sudden override of Kunikuzushi's emotions. Nahida wasn't exactly sure what she was expecting, but it wasn't that at all. She had partially thought his mind would still contain that notion of desiring for godhood, or perhaps his dreams would involve his past.

But she wasn't expecting for his mind to be so disturbed.

As if his mind was only capable of conjuring the thought of you, and Nahida couldn't help it wonder if his desire for godhood was solely built upon his own desires or if his desires expanded on something else, a person if she's more concise. Nahida pushes herself off the stool and lets out a sigh as she pulls the warm blankets over the majority of the puppeteer's body with her tiny fingers tugging at the soft edges. Maybe she should just postpone the mental assessment for today; Kunikuzushi didn't seem to be psychologically stable enough to be studied for a valuable cause. However, the young man seems to place a lot of weight on this [First Name] person, whoever they may be.

Maybe Nahida should learn more about this person? Bringing you into Sumeru might serve as a key to reawakening Kunikuzushi, perhaps the both of you can work together to regain his stability.

"[First Name]...."

She might be wrong about the puppeteer's emotional capabilities after all. If the man were to suffer any unfavourable consequences, maybe Nahida has figured out a means to keep him under control, she doesn't mean that she wants to harm you, but perhaps you can act as the person holding the leash to him instead.

Obviously not without your consent first but Nahida is sure that both of you can reach the middle ground for some sort of contract or deal?

It doesn't seem like a bad offer at all, does it?

But, just for today, Nahida is willing to let him rest for a bit.

It's a rest for her too, considering his mind was more disturbing than she had anticipated.

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stomach-bugg09 · 1 year

Note

hiii,i saw that requests ante open and was wondering if we can get a fali fic? 🫢 I don’t really mind/have a preference for what it’s about but maybe angst with some fluff at the end??? idek you’re the writer so you can choose, that’s basically it, and btw your fics are lush!! i love themm

thankyouuu <3

a/n: okay, hey !! took me a lil bit to ponder this idea and what would be the best approach , but i think this suits it with a lil bit of angst and then some comforting fluff. thanks so much for the kind words !! please, please, please comment feedback + reblog ( everything's easier when you have the motivation of your readers )

summary: fali is recovering from the bullet he took to save neteyam, but he's never been very patient.

tags: @rafeslovergirl @wxnderingthoughts @liyahsocorro @bonnibuckets @hjkshshjkhklhkl @theycallmesia @grierpilots @23victoria @nyotamalfoy @gcldtom

healing is hard

after eighteen years of existing, fali was never once considered patient. even when young, his mother could recall the numerous times where she scolded the poor na’vi for not waiting for her or his father before he dove right into the reef. she could also recall the way her heartbeat would flare when he let out a mischievous feat of laughter followed by a loud splash.

she had to say, though, that she would much prefer those small spikes of fear over the moment in which she witnessed tsireya speeding back atop her ilu, a limp body draped in front of her.

vi’ieo and fpai had just been discussing the whereabouts of their son in concerned, hushed tones when they heard the olo’eyktan’s daughter yell, “help! it is fali!”

nothing could prepare either parent for the rush of nausea and dread that flooded their bodies at those four words; if they weren’t thankful for ronal beforehand, they owed their lives to her. no mother wants to experience the unforgiving event that it the loss of a child.

not again, at least. not after they lost what was supposed to be their first baby girl just before she was born.

but now… now fali was okay. or, getting to it, at least. he was alive, and he was healed, but he still hurt. every movement he made, everytime he attempted to go through with tasks that he used to consider as easy if not daily.

he couldn’t even walk to the edge of the shore and back without help from someone else.

after being raised the only child of his parents and the supposed older brother to tsireya and ao’nung ( and then eventually rotxo ), fali picked up so many subconscious habits. he was reliable, he was independent, he was strong. now he was reliant, dependent, weak. he didn’t feel like fali te auahi fpai’itan.

everybody around the healing na’vi felt his frustration. they felt this sadness, his mourning of who he used to be. they felt the anger that surged through his body at the limited movement his left arm and leg now possessed after the bullet just barely impacted his spine enough to cause mobility issues.

it hurt. it hurt him, it hurt them, it hurt everyone.

and fpai and vi’ieo also missed the child he used to be. the child he was before he grew up, the child he was before he became the warrior, the child he was before they let war touch him. before they let war hurt him. but, they would forever be grateful for his mere survival above all else.

while fali saw their perspective, while he recognized the blessing that was his life, he was so sick of it. he was so sick of being thankful, of being gracious for eywa. he wanted his life back! he wanted his arm and leg back! for all he knew, fali would never even see battle again — he would never see the thing that he spent his entire childhood training for.

an impressive warrior whose skills were wasted on an avatar’s stupid bullet.

while everyone else tried to push a positive perspective onto the angry and healing na’vi, [y/n] knew better. she knew that wasn’t an option — not based on his personality, at least.

was she happy he was still alive? well, of course! in fact, she often jumped awake in the middle of the night and pressed a hand to his chest from where she slept right next to him, checking that he was still breathing. checking that he was still there.

but, [y/n] could never expect him to share the same exact outlook that she did, and she could never pretend to understand what he was struggling with. that would just be a lie, and she could never lie to him. not to her love.

so, instead of trying to get him to rest every time he stood up, instead of stopping him before he limped out of the marui, she gave him a soft smile and a nod. and then, of course, a wink followed by words meant only to push buttons ( which would hopefully only motivate him to success ), “scream if you need anything.”

he would roll his eyes, waddle out, and after about five minutes, [y/n] would be outside the marui. her eyes would be caught on his figure in the distance, oftentimes leaned up against a tree or paused while trying to catch his breath.

sometimes, although her heart shattered the most during these moments, he would be paused with his makeshift cane in hand, back hunched as sobs echoed through the breeze.

but [y/n] knew better than to barge in. she knew that, as much as every part of her body and soul itched to go and help him — to insist that it would be okay — it was only up to fali to decide whether or not that would be true.

it was only once, though, that [y/n] came running to him.

he’d been walking, small grunts of frustration heard all the way from where [y/n] stood. her gaze was soft against his back full of tattoos, scars, and muscles that she knew all too well.

and then, in a split second, everything broke.

the na’vi before her let out a yell of fury before throwing his cane into the sand, knees shaking as he fell onto them. the soft, wet sand was imprinted with his weight, allowing him to dip an inch shorter.

[y/n] feet started moving before her mind did, practically running down the wooden docks and through the sand. the squishy substance tickled between her toes at each new step, until eventually she strut right past the tearful na’vi and grabbed his cane.

she spun around on her heel, looking him right in the eye, and she extended her arm towards him. the long piece of drift wood he’d adapted to be his mobile assistant faced him in an offering.

but, just as fali reached up and attempted to take it from [y/n]’s hand, she pulled it away and threw it about ten feet to her right.

stunned, fali blinked at her. “[y/n],” he gasped, shocked. “what are you —”

“get up.”

[y/n] voice was solid, firm. authoritative. all of sudden, fali couldn’t take his glassy eyes away from her, jaw dropped in complete shock due to her attitude. what was she up to? “[y/n],” he tried again, voice soft and shallow due to the sobs that sat at the base of his throat.

she merely shook her head at her healing lover. “no,” she refused. “no, you’re going to get up.”

“i —” he paused, checking his words carefully. “[y/n], what are you doing?”

[y/n] locked his eyes, not once making an effort to assist him in any form. “i’m telling you to get up. get on your feet and walk.”

once more, fali opened his mouth, but this time… this time it shut in a pregnant bubble of silence. instead of arguing any more than he already had, he placed two hands on the ground and attempted to push upwards.

and then, just like that, fali was back in his own head. not once did he realize, as he pushed himself over the edge, that he wasn’t alone, and yet… for the first time ever since he started leaving every afternoon to try and make progress… he was finally able to do it.

by himself.

but he wasn’t by himself. [y/n] was there right next to him, words of encouragement flooding from her lips with every noise of desperation or anguish. everytime he even made a signal of falling back down, more words spilling right into his ears.

and soon, before he even knew it, he was standing. by himself.

and his arms were wrapped around the familiar body of [y/n]. the same warmth he adored every night. the same build that made him feel safe. the same na’vi that made him rethink every part of his life.

he could have never made it without her. anywhere. not just to a new point in his recovery, but he couldn’t have made it to the person he considered himself to be then.

fali without [y/n] would be the same arrogant na’vi that pushed ao’nung’s buttons. the same na’vi that made dumb decisions. the same na’vi who prided himself only on his abilities on the battlefield.

with [y/n], he finally realized there was so much more to himself than he ever knew or knew to recognize.

he pressed his face into [y/n]’s hair, the soft strands soaking up his salty tears of joy. his shoulder shook every so slightly, and fali could feel [y/n]’s own trembling body.

it’d been so difficult.

“i’ve been wanting to help, you know,” [y/n] sniffed into his chest. “i just knew it wouldn’t have helped. the last thing i wanted to do was make things more difficult.”

fali swallowed. “i know, yawne, i know.” his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. he couldn’t manage to summon anything louder, for he was world this beauty of a reality would disintegrate into a dream.

“but,” she continued softly. “i also knew you needed to be open to help. help from me, help from your parents, help from everyone. you can’t do everything alone.”

fali paused, silence overcoming them as he thought. she was right, of course, but he hated that idea. he was already vulnerable with his injuries. the last thing he wanted was pity from anyone else.

“i just…” he trailed. “i’m scared.”

[y/n]’s heart broke, her breath hitching in her throat at the big confession. “that’s okay.” she looked upwards, eyes locking between the two. “it’s okay to be scared.”

“what if i don’t get better?” he admitted, tears creating shiny streaks against his blue cheeks. “what if this is it? what if i can’t fight anymore?”

and then, as shocking as it was to fali, a laugh bubbled from [y/n]’s throat. he gave her a quizzical look and asked, “what’s funny?”

“well, it’d be fine by me, is all,” she admitted, a smile resting on her lips. “i like it better when i know you're safe and not at war.”

he couldn’t help but feel a smile rise to his own mouth as well. “well, you’d still be fighting.”

she gave him a look that read duh before continuing. “plus, if you do learn to lead the village from the interior… you could be at home.” she paused, shrugging. “if we ever wanted a family and all.”

fali paused, looking into her eyes deeply. suddenly, all he could feel was his stupid grin. “and you couldn’t stay home and care for the kids?” “we’d get a babysitter.”

fali let out a loud laugh, leaning his head down and kissing her square on the lips. “maybe eywa made a good decision.”

#avatar the way of water #neteyam sully #loak sully #sully family x reader #sully family x y/n #tuk sully #tuktirey #kiri sully #sully siblings x reader #neytiri sully #sully!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #avatar 2 #fali x reader

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karniss-bg3 · 6 months

Note

writing prompt: kar'niss with a tav who's chronically ill/has chronic pain ? like a general comfort fic of sorts, maybe he's helping them with a flare up or something :)

if that isn't possible (which i understand if not) just general sickfic fluff would be great :) thank you !!

The afternoon crept toward evening, the setting sun casting an array of orange and golden hues across the sky. Tav and Kar’niss had been hard at work tending to the garden and livestock they kept around their home. Exhausting work though it was they were satisfied with how much they’d built up their land over time. It was starting to feel like a place they could live out their days in peace. Or rather, relative peace.

Kar’niss was turning the corner of the house carrying a pail of water in each hand prepared to fill the last of the troughs. He’d stop in place when he spotted Tav crouched on the ground clutching their arms. They had broken out into a sweat and appeared distressed trembling in place. Kar’niss frowned and rushed over, placing the buckets down then leaning forward to examine their beloved closer.

“Tav, are you alright?”

They took in a shaken breath as they squeezed at their arms. The color had drained from their face while struggling to lift their head to look up at the drider. “A-Another flare up,” Tav whispered.

Kar’niss understood what this meant. Tav had trouble with severe muscle cramps now and then which were strong enough to disable their body until it passed. The pain was deep and throbbing, their muscles contracting tight against their bones until the relief of release finally graced them. He didn’t hesitate to act, lowering his body so he could carefully scoop the distressed being into his arms. He’d cradle them against his chest and turn to skitter toward the house, keeping his movements steady so as to not jostle Tav too much along the way. He carried them into the house which had a large, round door at the front to accommodate Kar’niss’ size. He brought Tav over to the couch lowering them down gently onto the soft cushions.

“Wait here,” Kar’niss said. He cupped either side of their face, a tender caress applied to their cheeks before he pulled away.

He got to work on a way to help Tav’s current predicament. First, he went outside to retrieve buckets of water, using them to fill the wooden wash basin situated in the back room of their home. He’d check on Tav each time he wandered through, seeing them curled on the couch, their breathing labored. This motivated him to move quicker, carrying in bucket after bucket until the basin was nearly filled. From there he grabbed a bag of Epsom salt. He’d tear it open and pour the bag into the water then grabbed a wooden stick, using it to stir the contents until he deemed them well mixed. The bath wasn’t ready for Tav just yet as the water was still cold but he had a solution for this, too. He wandered toward a cabinet which held a number of magical scrolls, likely ones Tav had collected on their journey through Baldur’s Gate. He’d search until he found a scroll of burning hands.

“Incendium!” Kar’niss’ voice boomed as he read off the incantation. The scroll disintegrated in his grasp only to envelop his hands in flames, his eyes igniting with that same fiery blaze while channeling the spell. He scurried over to the edge of the tub and immediately dunked his blazing digits into the water sending the heat churning through the liquid to disperse evenly. He held them under until the surface began to bubble signifying it had heated up to a reasonable degree. Satisfied, he dismissed the spell and left the room to return to Tav’s side. Upon approaching he’d see they were still curled up and struggling with the consistent pain surging through their body.

“Hold on for a little longer, the bath is almost ready.” He curled his long legs so he could lower the bulk of his body closer to the floor, using the new angle to be within reach of his distressed lover. With great care he’d start the process of undressing them, patiently peeling each article clothing away while paying attention to their stress levels by doing so. “Easy, one arm at a time.” His voice was quiet and calm doing his best not to panic and worry Tav all the more. Accustomed to this as he may have been it didn’t lessen his concern for the one he adored most in the world. Tav hissed in discomfort while being disrobed, not out of fear of Kar’niss but due to how strenuous even the most simple of movements could be. The drider handled the situation expertly, occasionally stroking the top of Tav’s head in an effort to ease their nerves.

Once Tav was stripped bare Kar’niss inched closer so he could slide his arms under their back and legs, hoisting them from the couch to cradle against his chest. He could feel them shivering against the exposed portions of his chest, both from the sudden chill of the ambient air and the ache that haunted every fiber of their body. They looked up at the drider who was tending to them so diligently, his patience and level headed approach greatly appreciated by the one in distress. Kar’niss carried Tav to the edge of the tub which had a fair amount of steam rising from the still pool. He extended a pedipalp and stuck it into the water to test the temperature ensuring it wasn’t too hot. Tav wasn’t a lobster after all and Kar’niss didn’t appear interested in seeing them boiled alive.

“Take a breath my love, I’m going to lower you in alright?” He turned his head to focus his many eyes on Tav, studying their face for any signs of hesitation.

“I—I’m ready,” Tav whispered, their voice shaken.

Kar’niss hooked both pedipalps into the side of the basin to keep him steady as his torso leaned down. He eased Tav into the water first by the feet, his grip firm on their body to make sure they didn’t slip and have an unpleasant tumble. Once their backside sat firmly on the bottom of the tub he’d relinquish his hold and slide his arms away. Tav tipped their head back and rested it on the edge of the cask releasing a long, drawn out exhale of relief the moment the hot water enclosed them. The mixture of the warm liquid combined with the Epsom salts had an immediate effect on them, lulling the tensed muscles to relax and ease up their assault.

“A-Ah mmh...th-thank you, Kar’niss,” Tav said as their eyes rolled closed.

Kar’niss exhaled in turn as his own sense of relief took hold. “I didn’t mean to make you wait so long. I should’ve moved faster.”

Tav shook their head, their brows forming a tight crease of their nose. “No, you did nothing wrong. This is perfect.”

His legs clicked beneath him as he moved to the other side of the room, retrieving two cloths. He’d dip one into the water and wring it out, folding it into a thick rectangular shape. He’d then place it over Tav’s forehead so the head would spread over their face. With the other he’d dunk it into the bath and then rub a bar of soap over the surface to build up an array of suds. He stepped in behind where Tav rested their head, leaning over so he could wash over their shoulders and chest. He’d squeeze at the skin to massage the sore muscles beneath, mindful not to apply too much pressure to such tender spots. Tav looked and could see the underside of his chin as he worked. The attention pulled quiet groans from their mouth which helped ease the tension all the more.

Tav reached out of the water and cupped either side of Kar’niss face from their lower position, encouraging him to dip his head and bring their faces closer together. His eyes widened with some surprise when Tav initiated an upside down kiss, their lips connecting with Kar’niss chin nestled beneath Tav’s nose. He’d pause the washing so he could focus on the meaningful gesture allowing himself to melt into the embrace. When the kiss broke he’d lean back, a lopsided smirk on his face as he peered down at Tav.

“What was that for?” Kar’niss asked.

Tav chuckled weakly. “Because I wanted to, and to show you how grateful I am for your aid. This would’ve been a nightmare to handle on my own. Truly, thank you.”

He glanced off to the side then darted his gaze back to them. “After everything you did for me this is the least I can do. You saved my life, gave me a new purpose and loved me when no one else would.” He wrapped his arms around Tav from behind, resting his chin on top of their head. “There will never come a moment where I regret serving you. It is what makes me happy.”

Tav took in a shaken breath as they leaned into him. They felt the sting of tears well in their eyes, so moved by such a heartfelt declaration. Rather than reply they opted to savor the moment. Between the warmth of the bath and the comforting strength of being wrapped in Kar’niss’ arms they never felt more seen or loved. It would be something that stuck with them for many years to come.

Kar’niss continued to bathe Tav making sure not to miss a spot in the process, massaging their shoulders, arms and thighs while minding his claws. He’d let them soak until the water took on a chill, deciding now was a good time to get them out. He’d prepare a towel and lift them from the basin, swaddling them in the over-sized cloth to protect them from the cold. Kar’niss then carried Tav to the lit fireplace while nosing the side of their face with affection, soon lowering them on the comfortable fur tugs in front so they could dry. By now much of the muscle strain had passed and they were feeling more like themselves, even if exhausted from the ordeal.

“I’m going to make you something to eat, just rest.”

Tav frowned. “What about you?”

He shook his head. “You fed me yesterday. I can supplement myself with wild game. You need to take ease, not lose blood. I will be fine.” He’d caress over their scalp with his fingertips before he moved away to get started.

The kitchen had been built to where it could accommodate his girth, allowing him the freedom of movement without crashing into one thing or another. Tav laid out on the rugs and tugged the towel tighter around their frame, basking in the warmth of the crackling fire while watching Kar’niss hard at work. He put together the ingredients for a simple chowder, something that wouldn’t require a lot of energy to eat. He’d ladle out a decent sized portion into a wooden bowl then wandered over to his beloved. He plopped down onto his belly and used his pedipalps to encourage them to sit up. They did exactly that, leaning their back between said ‘palps using him as a make shift chair. He looped his arms around Tav clutching the bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. Tav picked up on what he was trying to do.

“Oh love, you don’t have to do that. I’m much better now I should be fine to feed myself.”

Kar’niss craned his neck and side eyed Tav. “I’m sure you can, but I’d prefer to do it at least for now. Let me pamper you.” He squeezed Tav’s hips with his pedipalps rather insistently.

They issued a soft sigh of defeat and smiled. “Alright, if it’ll make you happy.”

Indeed, it made him very happy! So much in fact that a pleased grin spread over his lips, flashing his fangs in the process. Keeping them nestled against his body he’d feed them one spoonful after the other, making sure they had swallowed before offering another. All the while Tav was wrapped up to their ears in a fuzzy towel which locked in the heat of the fireplace keeping them secure and toasty. Kar’niss kissed the top of their head and breathed in their scent throughout the feeding, relieved that his lover was no longer hurting. This continued until the bowl was empty of its contents leaving Tav full and sated.

“Good, this pleases me,” Kar’niss said. He’d leave Tav’s side long enough to put away the dish and retrieve proper bed clothes in preparation for rest. He’d remove Tav’s towel and help them into the sleepwear one piece at a time even going as far as to tickle the underside of their foot to tease them.

“Ack, stop that!” Tav laughed, jerking their leg away.

Kar’niss chuckled as he secured the last of the garments to their body. “I can’t resist the opportunity to make you laugh.” He’d grasp their body and hoist them back up into his arms, issuing a passing nibble to their chin. “It’s been a long day, let us retire.”

Tav toyed with his hair while brushing face to face with him. “I’d love nothing more.”

He carried them to their bedroom which, like much of the house, was designed to be open so Kar’niss could walk without tripping over obstacles. Their bed mirrored this notion as one side was raised to a typical level while the other side was lowered in a slope meant to fit Kar’niss’ arachnid half with greater ease. It also allowed him to align his humanoid torso to properly cuddle Tav without twisting his spine in the most unpleasant of ways. He laid Tav down on the raised portion while stepping into the other side, nestling his body into the cushions with his legs tightly curled either side of his frame. He’d pull up the covers and tuck Tav in, laying behind them so he could wrap his arms around their body. He buried his face against the back of their neck and reveled in their closeness, grateful that they were doing better now. Tav clasped one of Kar’niss’ hands against their chest and kissed his knuckles, wiggling back into him to keep them as close as was available.

“I love you,” Tav whispered, their eyelids growing heavy.

Kar’niss smiled and squeezed their torso. “I love you, always.”

Together the pair dozed off, wrapped up in one another. Their lives may know hardships, challenges and troubles but their loyalty and care for each other will always persevere.

#baldur's gate 3 #kar'niss #drider #karniss #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #answered #my writing #kar'niss x tav #gender-neutral tav #kar'niss fanfic #kar'niss bg3 #bg3 fanfic #hurt/comfort #sickfic #fluff #chronic pain #chronic illness

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dabilove27 · 4 months

Text

Character: Joey Wheeler

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Public masturbation, Male Masturbation, Joey is depicted as 21+, Not Beta'd. If I missed anything let me know!

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Hello hello! So this is a bit different from what I normally do so please excuse it if it's horrific. This comes from a lovely requester who wishes to remain anonymous. Here is the request: "For my request, can you write a oneshot featuring Joey Wheeler (aged up) but with public nudity please? In the story, he gets the idea to try walking through downtown Domino City late at night wearing nothing but his birthday suit. You can decide on where he'd go, but I'd like it if Joey was focused on walking through without anyone catching him also masturbating/cumming along the way." I hope you like it!!

other a/n: my dumbass had to keep editing this aye aye aye

Joey perceived himself as a daring risk-taker, always ready to face danger with no second thoughts. As he entered adulthood following high school, he remained labeled as reckless by others. However, as Joey entered his early adult years, he carried a secret within him. His constant drive to push his boundaries led to a diminished excitement for ordinary experiences.

Joey was uncertain about the process through which he realized that this was his area of expertise.

It started on a scorching summer day when he set out for the pool unaccompanied. The sparkling sun drenched the area in a golden light, its rays softly brushing against his skin. Lacking ambitious aspirations, he merely craved the soothing comfort of the sun. Strangely, not a single person was there on this beautiful summer day.

Rather than going into the bathroom to change, Joey took a risk and changed right there, in the open air. A powerful voice of persuasion boldly called to him. A combination of fear and excitement filled him as he removed his clothes.

Joey's heart throbbed as he rapidly stripped off his shirt and shorts, attempting to be swift and unnoticeable. A surge of adrenaline washed over him as he reveled in the thrill of engaging in forbidden activities. The voice he heard in his head gave him confidence that he would go unnoticed.

After changing and getting into his swim trunks, Joey felt sweat rolling down his forehead. With a nervous glance, he quickly checked to see if anyone had caught sight of his unconventional actions. The pool remained quiet, with no one in sight.

Despite feeling uncomfortable and always being concerned about getting caught, Joey found a sense of liberation. Being bound by societal expectations had been his reality, but this rebellious act briefly liberated him. His inner voice muttered words of encouragement, compelling him to embrace his genuine self.

With a surge of confidence, Joey descended to the pool, prepared to express his true self. With the weight of secrecy gone, he felt a newfound sense of empowerment. He finally accepted that the little voice in his head had been right all along. He was ready to face the consequences of his actions, knowing that he wouldn't be discovered.

As Joey leapt into the invigorating pool, he could feel a surge of courage and determination propelling him forward. The voice in his head had become a powerful force, motivating him to break free from societal conventions and embrace his true identity. From that moment forward, he embraced the voice that resonates deep within him, promising to follow its guidance as it led him towards a life of genuine purpose.

It was a sequence of events that led Joey down an unexpected path, eventually resulting in him finding refuge in an alley where he could savor the refreshing coolness of the evening air in Domino City.

Something had unexpectedly motivated him that evening, which led to his actions. The voice he heard at the pool years ago might have caused this sensation. In a swift motion, he untangled himself from his jeans and allowed them to cascade down, landing softly on the earth, all while the crisp air of early fall danced teasingly across his legs.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through Joey, making his heart pound. Intensifying the sensation, the cool air sent shivers down his spine. A surge of electricity seemed to have sparked his senses, awakening every nerve ending in his body.

With his jeans pooled around his ankles, Joey stood there, overwhelmed by the weight of his past and the uncertainty of his future. The memory of that voice, from two years ago, lingered in his thoughts, urging him to heed his gut feelings, abandon the ordinary, and embrace the unexplored.

As the city lights shone brightly, the alley came to life, with long shadows that waltzed gracefully across the brick walls. Excitement and a touch of anxiety made Joey's legs tremble as he stood there, bare-skinned. The sensation of the crisp air on his skin was both invigorating and unsettling, a physical manifestation of his decision to step outside his comfort zone.

Joey's inhibitions gradually faded away with every passing moment, leaving him with a fresh feeling of liberation. Allowing himself a moment to take a deep breath, he embraced the coolness of the evening air that entered his lungs, providing an additional boost of invigoration. By placing his jeans on the ground, he metaphorically shed the weight of societal expectations, visually expressing his yearning to embrace the uncharted path that lies ahead.

In the alley, Joey's veins pulsed with a wave of courage and determination. The chilly wind acted as a catalyst, igniting his spirit and increasing his curiosity. Wasting no time, he took off his shirt and boxers. Aware of his vulnerability, he realized that this moment held the potential for self-reinvention and the revelation of his deepest desires.

As the days grew shorter and autumn arrived, the gentle breeze continued to brush against his legs, as if inviting him to embark on fresh adventures and explore his true self. Joey closed his eyes, fully immersing himself in the sensation, and silently vowed to obey the persistent voice that had haunted him for years. With a fresh perspective on life, he courageously moved ahead, leaving his clothes and venturing into the unknown, fully prepared to embrace whatever came his way.

A refreshing coolness fills the air. The gentle wind rustles through the trees, creating a soothing melody. With the perfect weather in place, Joey's plan is ready for success. Domino City holds no secrets for him, as he is intimately familiar with its every corner and neighborhood. It's the prime spot to begin his voyeuristic quest, where he can surreptitiously observe the unfolding scenes around him.

Joey leisurely starts his stroll, thoroughly enjoying the sensation of the wind against his bare skin, while he meanders towards the pathway that encircles the deserted lake. The rush he feels from the anticipation of being caught pushes him onwards, compelling him to stay watchful for any sudden nocturnal wanderers that may cross his path.

Even though ten minutes had elapsed, Joey had encountered no one at all. Not discouraged, he persisted through the eerie stillness of the night, cautiously navigating around abandoned vehicles, his heart racing with every step. The expectation of a potential individual inside the car caused an adrenaline rush, leading to unpredictable bodily responses. Sensing the need for haste, he hastily sought sanctuary in an industrial area, desperately yearning for a moment of relaxation.

Eventually, he finds the perfect hiding spot concealed behind a tall oak tree, where the moonlight filters through the leaves. With a careful balance of openness and seclusion, the environment allows Joey to explore his desires freely without worrying about unwanted attention. Deliberately, he reaches down, his hand encountering the velvety texture and warmth of his manhood, causing a tingle of anticipation to travel down his back. While he strokes back and forth, a euphoric symphony escapes his mouth, blending with the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds, forming a seductive melody in the embrace of nature.

With each stroke, Joey could see the pearlescent pre-cum glistening on the tip of his cock, heightening his pleasure. With each movement, a cacophony of loud, wet sounds filled the surrounding space. Lost in the sensation, he couldn't help but moan audibly as his hand traced the contours of his firm stomach.

Sensing the release was imminent, Joey quickened his pace, eager to reach it. His forehead and chest glistened with perspiration as small beads of sweat formed in response to the heat.

With each moan, Joey became less and less hesitant.

Joey firmly gripped his hands around his throbbing member, his fingers tightly encasing the pulsating shaft. His moans grew more intense and resonated throughout the room with every powerful thrust. The air carried a distinct scent of longing, blending with the intoxicating aroma of sweat. His lips, slightly parted, released a series of breathy exclamations, punctuated by the occasional whispered “oh fuck.”

Joey couldn’t hold it anymore and a sudden exclamation escaped his lips, “Ah, F-Fuck!” To ease himself, he expelled a significant load onto the grass, feeling a sense of relief wash over him.

Before finally going back to get his clothes, Joey lingers for a while, savoring the moment with a hint of reluctance.

#joey wheeler fanfic #yugioh fanfic #joey wheeler smut #my writing #introspection #dabilove27 writing

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bibs-world · 2 years

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Can I request for Lewis where your pregnant and he returns home to you in his shirt and underwear?

Yours Truly,

Lewis hamilton x fem!reader

Words:1000-ish? idk

Summary: It's Monza, Lewis is disappointed by his outcome but you're always there for him, even when not physically.

Notes: I delivered what I could and what my mind came up with, sorry if it wasn't what you wanted, also, I have a Charles Leclerc fanfic out, can you guys maybe show some love to it? Thank you <3

Lewis had lost count of the amount of times he'd looked at the message you sent him to prepare for the race weekend. Whenever he works out, finishes an interview, goes on a track walk, he gets his phone after once he's finished and rereads it all over again, it gives him a surge of energy and motivation to go on and do things even more possibly.

You were unfortunately at home, unable to go with him to the beautiful country and be there for him for the race. Why? Because you have a baby that would pop out very soon, so you were instructed by Lewis himself to stay home surrounded by your family and near your doctor, even if he'd miss the birth of his baby girl, you'd still be safer and more comfortable than in a foreign country.

***

Dear Lew,

I'm still angry with you for making me stay back but I, luckily for you, still love you. You already know I'd always love you, you sneaky little arse. Me and our little girl are missing you lots, now and we really, really, really wanna see you with that trophy, babe and we know you can and will get it. So, now i'll wait till the race start and watch you push through them all till you get that pole love. Can't wait to see you on Tuesday!

Yours truly,

Your Y/N.

***

The race's result didn't come out as wanted for Lewis and it made him upset, yet he still went around with a smile on his face, until he stopped before his doorstep, ringing the doorbell with his luggage beside him.

"Coming!" You yelled from the inside, making a smile appear on his face before he'd even see you.

He can sense you struggle up from the couch while cursing whomever it was on the other side of the door before even answering. You never liked answering the door or phone calls, you'd preferred texts, of course unless it was Lewis on the other end of the phone.

"It's way too early in the mor-Lewis?" You knitted your brows up at him before you smiled widely at him and threw your arms around him.

"Hey." He chuckled, feeling your bump against his torso.

"You came early! I thought you were coming tomorrow, love?" You grinned, pulling back slightly but keeping your arms around him.

He'd noticed you, simply in a pair of clean boxers (that you stole from him, but you'd never admit, they were just too comfortable) and his shirt since you did admit that your shirts had gotten smaller and his shirts fit you more, plus, they smelled like him.

"I just wanted to spend some alone time with you before the little one comes." He told you, making you squint your eyes at him in suspicion.

"What kind of alone time?"

He simply laughed at your bewildered expression before ushering you inside and getting his things then shutting the door after him.

"It could be whatever you want?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as your expression turned to one of horror.

"No, thank you." You turned around and quickly and 'ran' back to the couch, turning around to face your lover once your reached there. "We could cuddle?"

He nodded happily, making his way towards you as you opened your arms wide for him. He slipped into them again before seating down the both of you gently.

His hand was rested on your swollen belly, caressing it softly as the comfortable silence surrounded the happy couple.

"Are you okay, love?" You murmured, your voice so low he almost didn't catch it if he wasn't already staring at you.

He hummed. "Yes, why?"

You lifted your head up to better see him, resting your chin on the back of your hands to not bother him more than laying half your body on him.

"I'm offended that you thought I'd buy that, Sir Lewis. I've known you longer than your fans." You quirked a disappointed brow at him as he smiled at you.

"No, I'm okay, really. I've had my time, my wins and it's time for a new generation to take over." He stated, directing his attention towards the cieling since it seemed less fearful than your intense gaze.

"But, you still want to be up there with them." You mumbled, laying your head against his chest again, listening to his calm heartbeat.

"Well...isn't that what everyone wants?" He wondered as you looked up at him. You leaned up, kissing his bearded chin.

"Should we get another cupboard for your trophies, then?" You teased him lightheartedly, caressing his cheek comfortingly.

He just smiled, closing his eyes. "How about a little nap?" He suggested, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

"I don't think the little one approves." You whispered, horrified.

"What?" He frowned, tilting his head up to see you.

"My water just broke." You informed him, clenching your eyes shut in fear.

"What?!"

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 #f1 2022 #formula 1 #monza 2022

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