#idk man! i have thoughts but not coherent ones

[blur0se]

Thinking about when loveybug inevitably starts crashing, I imagine she just couldnt turn into loveybug anymore. Imagine it happens right before a time she promised to meet cat walker for their date debriefing and she's trying desperately to get it back but she just can't reach into that part of herself anymore. But she doesnt want catwalker to think loveybug abandoned him!!!

Or alternatively could have a more loveybug-ladybug reveal where something happens that embarrasses her and she just changes back to ladybug right there.

#i keep picturing this also with the idea that they are both on to each other #so when ladybug is embarrassed and down on herself chat can cone back and affirm that he knew it was her and never thought less of her #idk man! i have thoughts but not coherent ones #loveybug au

[stackslip]

actually i do have something to say about this chapter and it's quite critical of it but also i'm tired tonight and i've been talking about it long and hard on discord already and putting it all together in a coherent post feels like too much of a task tonight. all i'm gonna say is that part 2 was very obviously going in a certain direction from the start, and i loved that direction, and to an extent it is still going in that direction but now very obviously missing a huge chunk of what stirred it in that direction. and i'm hesitant to simply say it's fujimoto that's dropped the ball on this (though it might the idealization, who's to say) because from the actual shape of the writing + slump in paneling/art + recent bitter interview by fujimoto + japanese audience is apparently vocally not a fan of asa + my own cursed knowledge of shounen jump and shueisha editors and how they react to a fall in sales = i think the lack of focus on asa has really hurt the themes of part 2 when she was an integral part of it + i think this wasn't entirely fujimoto's doing and it's very likely because she is apparently strongly disliked in japan and there's good reason to believe that fujimoto was told to not focus on her nearly as much bc sales slump and people complain as soon as she shows up. which sucks. becaue what made part 2 work as well as it did was the synergy and parallel between the two protagonists' paths, and the absence of asa's path in the past few months (both in universe and by real time in the comic) feels like a genuine writing and thematic and emotional hole in the comic that to me shows that she WAS supposed to be there. fujimoto had fully intended to write her in there bc there's a hole in the shape of her where she is very obviously supposed to fit. it isn't simply a question of "author forgets his female character" it's a question of "this crucial part of the manga is missing and the author is painfully aware of it and bitter about it too"

#eli talks #csm #this is still not coherent i'll make a more coherent version at one point. #anyhow this still worked for me even during the denji megafocus #bc it felt like the boomerang was gonna return and asa was gonna be back in her place #and we were gonna see the counterbalance to denji's focus #her own rise to fame and emotions during this and growth with yoru #her absorption into the church and its horrors; the love bombing and adulation she finally got #the emotions about chainsaw man as a character and growing more reliant on yoru #the bitter and dramatic fall and its immediate aftermath; reacting to losing her arm #instead we get a character who until now had been an intensely emotion-driven and passive character IMMEDIATELY thrust into action #and given v little insight into her thoughts and interiority #something is missing! #it's not like fujimoto had nothing planned for her. she was written so intently and well #and suddenly it's like she dropped out of existence #and suddenly the paneling got worse and the art got worse and the hiatuses worse #and we get an interview from fjmt where he talks bitterly about commercial expectations interfering with artistic intentions #and how he wishes he didn't have to draw aymore #a guy who talked about how he was obsessed with drawing! #idk maybe it's idealization but i feel like it's not hard to put two and two together here

[moongothic]

You know we all meme about how Luffy doesn't give a shit about his parents/Dragon, how he seemingly has no interest in learning about the man or meeting him at all, and like yeah that is a Luffyism

And for a long time I figured Baby Luffy would be the same too; that Luffy in his naïvete just accepted he must've spawned from the ocean itself into Garp's care or something, not realizing he should in fact have parents, thus Luffy's seeming disinterest in them

But you know what

Luffy did spend most of his early childhood alone

Sure, he had Garp, but it seems like Garp wasn't always there to look after him every day, he had his duties as a Marine too. Had Garp been there 24/7 all year then Garp would never have allowed Luffy to interact with Shanks (a filthy pirate) to begin with. So yes, Luffy had his grandpa, but not all the time. And sure, Luffy also had Shanks, but Shanks didn't spend all his time in Fuusha Village either, he came and went whenever he pleased too until his final departure when Luffy was just six years old. And yes, there was everyone else in the village too, people who cared about Luffy and were helping look after him. But Luffy's early childhood was one without a stable family.

It wasn't until Garp yeeted the child into Dadan's care that Luffy actually gained a proper family, where after months and months of trying Luffy managed to win Ace's trust and gained Sabo as a brother too. But as we know, by that point Luffy already hated being alone

All of this to say; Luffy growing up essentially orphaned would explain why he's so afraid to be alone, the way he clings onto people

In some ways Luffy's POV is meant to be the reader's POV, to some degree Luffy's feelings and thoughts are meant to be how we the readers feel and think about whaveter is happening in the story. Not a 100% by any means, but somewhat at the very least.

Perhaps Luffy's lack of interest in Dragon isn't just "Luffy not giving a damn about blood family because chosen families are better" nor "Luffy is too stupid to understand where babies come from". Perhaps Luffy, who may have assumed he didn't have parents at all (as in "might've assumed they were dead or had intentionally abandoned him"), doesn't know what to think about the fact that he does have a father out there, one whom he has never as much as met. Because yeah, Luffy doesn't know why Dragon left him with Garp, why he never got to be with his dad. Should he be angry at Dragon, hate him for being left alone? Or did Dragon have a good reason for it, does Dragon wish things could've been different?

Perhaps Luffy's seeming disinterest in Dragon isn't because he doesn't care about blood family, but because much like us the readers, Luffy doesn't quite know what to make of Dragon, and figuring those feelings out hasn't been relevant to the plot yet.

#Moon posting #OP Meta #IDK I see people often kind of just. Overly simplify (/dumbify) One Piece's themes about family into just like #''To hell with blood relatives! Chosen family is literally all that matters! Blood relatives can eat shit!'' #And it just. Feels like such a shame because One Piece's themes around family are so much more complex than that #Yes! Chosen/adopted families are just as much families as ones tied with blood! A family isn't more real just because it's tied with blood! #Sometimes your relatives suck ass! You don't have to considder them ''family'' at all! #And sometimes your family does Questionable Things but with the well-being of their family genuinely in mind. As their priority. #Despite everything Garp really loves Luffy AND ACE. He's an idiot but genuinely only ever wanted the best for those two #Family is when people love each other and want look after one another. **That's** what matters #That's why blood family reunions have been such a big reoccuring thing in the story especially post-TS #Reuniting families that've been torn apart would not matter if they did not love each other #IDK man I have Thoughts but not the braincells to form coherent sentences

[yea-baiyi]

hi i rly like fengqing and i want to Yell

do you think they planned the nan feng and fu yao thing together, or both just separately showed up and were like "........"

hi yes it is Yelling About Fengqing Hours

the funniest version of events is them showing up completely separate—that feng xin and mu qing both independently thought of the exact same idea, and show up literally within a few minutes of each other. and obviously they see through each other immediately because the plan was nonsense to begin with. so they are are dying to call each other out. except they can’t because they would reveal themselves so they are just seething. half of them yelling is out of frustration because they can’t acknowledge the massive elephant in the room

can u imagine. u haven’t had a civil conversation with your best friend in 700 years and turns out you guys still think the same way. and you can’t even acknowledge it out loud or you’ll ruin the plan (the same plan. the exact same, identical, shitty plan.)

#fengqing #tgcf #rambling #ask #thank u so much for indulging me!! #i need a tag for them #yelling is a love language #that works #idk man i just have. i have so many thoughts about them one day they’re just gonna come out of me #nothing i am thinking makes any coherent sense rn but them. they. augh

[justathingfromthebrainvoid]

OKAY. I AM DONE. AND AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!! THE BRAIN THOUGHTS!

OKay. So. 1. Again, so proud of Scar. He deserved it, that was amazing, fabulous job sweetie. 2. I think that this series, especially the last session really shows where Scar's pvp skill shine. Like he is not the best, we all are aware of that, BUT he is really good at a) bows (hotguy who?) and b) he does Lots of damage while not being super afraid of taking damage back. In normal series this is kinda what gets him killed, but with the lack of regen and 10+ hearts per kill, it really helped him in specific, whereas others weren't as aided and kept more to the "I can't lose these hearts." ideology. 3. There was a post going around about where people would break the series in to two groups and I agree with one of the opinions I saw (i think the most popular one) of Secret Life being the beginning of the new Group. And kind of with that, A Lot (and I do mean A Lot, I did a whole spreadsheet for this over the series) of the "Curses" from past seasons didn't happen, or weren't really applicable. Now some of them did (traps, fire, and Grian causing Jimmy's death) and arguments could be made for others to various extents, but by and large most of the Big ones did not happen. 3.5. Maybe that means we get to have New Curses... 4. I don't know how to feel about the "gentlemen's rule" of previous victors not winning again. I can completely understand why it might feel cheap or discouraging for the same people to win over and over again, but at the same time I think it can make the audience question things, especially as we get more and more winners. Idk, just something that lurks in the background of the brain. 5. Again, the series just seemed to fit so well with Scar's pvp style (take a lot of damage, deal a lot of damage, what is regen?, shoot them). Man killed 6 people, heavily damaged BigB and Skizz in just one episode. 6. Scar lived after winning. And that's the first time that's ever happened. It really does feel like a new set of Stuff around the games. 6.5. Winner's Curse bit: The thing Scar wanted most was allies. And now he's alone. Forever. 7. Scar didn't realize he'd killed Pearl (he also didn't get any hearts for it which was weird), and after he found out he won he just stood there while a zombie took I think 8 of his hearts.

#trafficblr #secret life #secret life spoilers #goodtimeswithscar #i have so many thoughts #this isn't all of them #but it is most of the coherent ones #idk man i'll probably be back with more later #just amazing job scar and everyone #i'm going to go pick over things and mull

[astrxealis]

i think haurchefant deserves the world. he deserves absolutely everything.

#⋯ ꒰ა starry thoughts ໒꒱ *·˚ #⋯ ꒰ა ffxiv ໒꒱ *·˚ #dear god i don't think he's even in my top 10 or even 15 but i love him with all my HEART ................... #just so happens my way of favouriting characters is like mhmmhmhmhmh yeah your vibe fits mine frfr #ANYWAYS i will one day write him just talking to my wol. w hot choco #my wol is like me and so smiles and happiness are central to her and important to her but she keeps giving #and doesn't really know how to take. in a way. like me haha. and it connects to how she's a Hero. the warrior of light #and shes light. she's joy. she's a star. but she's also just an adventurer and she doesn't know who she is anymore #outside of her being the warrior of light ... hence i should insert drk in her lore somehow. idk how. but somehow #and that's why her meeting zenos AWAKENED something in her. and that's why fandaniel did too. and. reaper #but in the end she's a summoner and astrologian! she heals and she accepts like. ig help. from others #and i think g'raha and haurchefant both are really a big help in that. and i think my wol is pretty alike to raha #but since shb she's been more assertive ............... man wtf my wol is so similar to me sobs </3 ANYWAYS. ANYWAYS. yeah #i love my warrior of light vv much and all my xiv ocs even if i don't have coherent thoughts #i was thinking making uhmm . i still haven't decided a name for m viera. BUT. i was thinking of making him have a twin #but like. Opposite. then i rmbr i already have twin warrior of lights bcs me and my irl twin like to yeah oops. so yeah #I FORGOT THE LORE I WANT FOR MY OCS NOOOOO aside from their ancient counterparts SOBS #anyways i'm just rambling abt my ocs now so whatever hi. 2 minutes to 4 am goodness me #so my wol is romantically involved w raha ever since arr! don't wnt to make her poly even tho i think poly is very valid bcs ya #BUT i think yeah aus maybe. but also no. i'm so attached to raha that idk tbh #raha's gone for some time so in that time she kinda has stuff goin on w others ..... like lyse and magnai! zenos! idk who else..... #but then uhmm she canonically at the very least has stuff going on w themis and hyth. and zenos. man idk how to do fandaniel though #themis and her get along really well in pandaemonium but i forgot how i was gna go about w it all eeeee #and w hyth! i know the whole thing going on w azem wol hyth themis at least hehe yes. + raha. #idk yet how i'll be able to insert zenos in canon tbh. and i want to put fandaniel somewhere at the very least but nah nvm #i have au ideas too tbh like if wol joined zenos's side. idk how i wanted that to go. just thought it'd be interesting #oh shit it's 4 am GOODNIGHT

[pansyfemme]

dont talk to me until ive had my morning antipsychotics

#missed em two days in a row. not on purpose and i am trying to get better abt it #but man. i do not function without them #being on antipsychotics is weird bc ive been on em since i was twelve and when u say that u take them ppl get all freaked out and its like. #would u rather i was unmedicated bc im gonna be psychotic either way #ppl get so weird when they find out someones psychotic and they couldnt tell #miss my antidepressants . #im fine. as long as i get my next dose i dont even notice #my antipsychotics? you might as well blindfold me bc i cannot keep my vision straight #i get all jittery and loose and floaty and start depersonalizing at the drop of a hat #not a coherant thought in my head. just like the same three words repeating themselves over and over #its like a waking dream. crazy to think that used to be how i lived 24/7. #obviously. if i miss a lot of doses it gets worse and worse until the real bad symptoms kick back in #but like. #missing one dose just makes shit really frustrating. missing more makes me pretty much unable to leave bed #idk how to discribe it. its like being very very dizzy but instead of a phsyical dizzy its a mental dizzy but like. not brain fog and not #distracted just kinda. dizzy and jittery #im professional diagnosed psychotic but man i could not tell you actual terms for any of my symptoms #like. is this psychotic stuff? maybe. idk it could be anything #but im psychotic and when im off my meds thats whats goin on. thats all i know #i will say. the good part is when i have surgery and #have anesthethia it is such a familiar feeling bc thats what being off my meds feels like almost exactly lmao

[kruzbr]

hahh yea thats the stuff

rant time ig (and spoilers? idk if me just not being super happy with the new season/series is spoilers but just in case be warned)

idk man it feels like the show isn't even written by the same people as the original show. joanfk doesn't happen radada whatever but the writing just isn't the same either and I just don't find it fun anymore (sometimes I wish I could be one of u bleacher creature enjoyers, yall seem to be having the good time that I'm not having). the 'new crush of the week' shit that this show has become feels so juvenile and written like an early 2000s middle schooler it's crazy (it's a joke on dumb teen romances but what if I don't find it funny anymore? get a new bit please)

kinda just wished the reboot didn't happen, it feels like the writers are just doing random ass shit and forgetting the reasons why people liked the show to begin with lets not forget that a huge part of the resurgence was BECAUSE joanfk was so well loved and throwing that into the face of those fans is SUPER cool and does not make me feel so stupid for begging for a new season but whatever - completely threw away this chance of getting to continue this story that was ended too soon, which hey might just be a HBO thing but who really knows.

idk if this is gonna be the last time I'm doing fanart for clone high (after I finished this season I said I wasn't going to cuz literally nothing appealed to me to draw but quickly lied because I had some thoughts I needed to scream into the void lmao) but don't be surprised if that happens. sorry if none of this is coherent, very stream of consciousness and can't give more of a shit lmao

#clonehigh #clone high #clone high jfk #clone high joan of arc #joanfk #clone high joan #joan #joan of arc #jfk #clone high fanart #fan art #fanart #digital drawing #digital #digital art #drawings #drawing #draw #cartoon #cartoons

[storiesforallfandoms]

feeling good ~ johnny knoxville

word count: 1823

request?: yes!

“I’m not too sure if you’d write for the Jackass, but I’m going out on a limb here. I wanted to request Johnny Knoxville smut, just him eating you out like his life depended on it and maybe him cumming in his pants. Idk why I just feel like that man goes feral for pussy. Thank you.”

“Hiya, would you be able to do a Johnny Knoxville smut?? Can literally be anything!!”

“hey i've just read your Johnny Knoxville fics and I LOVED them! I think you're an incredible writer!!

If it's okay (and you don't have to write it if you don't want to) but would you be able to write a Johnny Knoxville x female reader smut? Literally anything!!

Thank you!!!”

description: in which he gets a little too turned on while making her feel good

pairing: johnny knoxville x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (oral; f receiving), this might be more of a blurb than a one shot/imagine, but let’s see where it goes (which isn’t really a warning but i feel like i have to state that now)

masterlist (one, two, three)

It was an understatement to say that Johnny worshipped your pussy. Every second he could get he would want to be giving it all the love and attention he felt it deserved, whether that be playing with it, fingering it, fucking it just the way you wanted him to. But his favorite way to worship your pussy was by going down on you.

There was no place Johnny would rather be than laying on this stomach or down on his knees with his head between your thighs and his tongue absolutely devouring your clit. It was his favorite way to get you prepped for his cock, although sometimes he didn’t even need to put himself inside of you to get off. All he needed was his tongue against you, your thighs around his head, and the beautiful sounds of your moans filling his ears.

Johnny was absolutely feral for your pussy.

You’d never complain about his love for going down on you, though. Not that you could, honestly. When Johnny’s tongue was on you, you could barely form a coherent sentence. He made you feel so good in a way you didn’t even know was possible. You half-jokingly told him more than once that you had wasted all your life with guys who were “afraid to eat pussy”, and he wholeheartedly agreed.

Your favorite was when he would wake you with his tongue, which was how your day had started on this particular morning.

You were already in the middle of a wet dream involving Johnny when you were slowly roused from your slumber by a pleasurable feeling between your legs. At first, you just thought you were still dreaming. It wasn’t until you felt the sharp sting of Johnny’s fingernails digging into your thighs that you realized this was real, and you quickly opened your eyes so you could take a good look at your loving boyfriend beneath the covers.

You pulled back the covers and ran a hand through Johnny’s graying hair. Feeling your touch, he looked up at you with those lustful brown eyes that you loved so much.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he said.

“Good morning,” you responded, your sentence capped off with a gasp as Johnny ran his tongue through your folds again. “I’ll never get over waking up this way.”

“Good,” he said. “Because I don’t intend on stopping this any time soon.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, he dove back into your pussy. Your head fell back against the pillow as you moaned in pure ecstasy. Johnny’s tongue ran from your clit down to your pussy, lapping up the pool of arousal that was forming there. One hand gripped the sheets beneath you as the other held firmly to Johnny’s head, attempting to stay grounded however you could.

He started by lapping slow, long strokes from your cunt to your clit. A repetitive back and forth that had your toes curling already. After being teased by your dream, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to last long. You desperately wanted to feel him inside of you, but you knew it was no use in asking him to stop just yet. For one, he was going to want you to cum in his mouth. That was a given. But also, you knew that if he did stop now to fuck you, he’d just be right back where he started after a short break so he could get what he wanted.

There's no harm in multiple orgasms, you thought to yourself. I’ll have him inside of me either way.

What you didn’t know was that this was turning Johnny way more than he felt it should’ve. Of course, it wasn’t the first time that the action of eating you out alone had gotten him this rock hard and ready to burst. Most times he felt like this, actually. He had never voiced that to you in fear of what you’d think of him getting off to just eating you out. It always made him feel like a teenage boy again instead of a grown man.

But most times when Johnny got too turned on just from eating you out, he would get you to cum almost immediately so he could fuck you and get his own release. Since he had gotten a bit of a head start (no pun intended) before you woke up, he felt like he was dangerously balancing on the edge of his own orgasm. He didn’t think he’d last long even when he finally got to put himself inside of you.

His tongue strokes became quicker and more desperate. His face was buried in your pussy, his tongue shoving as deep into you as he possibly could. Feeling the tip of his tongue protruding your tight hole caused your body to tremor with the build up of your orgasm. You gripped his hair tightly and pulled it a little, causing him to moan into your dripping folds. His dick was so painfully hard that all he craved was to feel your cunt gripping him tightly, milking his cum out of him while he got to look down at your beautiful face.

Johnny rutted his hips into the mattress in hopes of getting some relief, but it proved to be a bad idea when he felt his own orgasm creeping up on him. Even the slightest breeze could push him over the edge at this point. He didn’t want to hurry you along too much, but he was beyond desperate at this point.

You started chanting his name like it was the only word that you knew. That’s how he knew you were getting close. He gripped your thighs so tightly that he was leaving crescent marks imprinted on your soft skin. He ate you out like you were the last meal he would ever have, feeling your body tense up and wanting to feel it release as soon as possible.

“Johnny!” you cried out as you felt the coil inside of you snap suddenly. He moaned into you, the vibrations running throughout your body like extra pleasure.

You whimpered as Johnny pulled away from you. His lips and chin were glistening from your juices, a sight that turned you on enough to want to go for a round two almost immediately. You reached out for him as he started to lift himself off of the bed, but he caught your wrists in your hands before you could pull off his pajama pants.

“I...uh...I may need a minute,” he said.

You looked at him in confusion as he got off the bed and made his way into the ensuite bathroom. You couldn’t understand why he wanted to take a break before fucking you. Usually, once he made you cum, he’d have himself balls deep inside of you now and fucking your brains out.

It wasn’t until you moved to close your legs and felt a wet patch near your feet that you got an idea as to what had happened.

When Johnny exited the bathroom, sans his pants and boxers, you couldn’t help but smirk to yourself.

“Did you cum just from going down on me?” you asked.

You didn’t mean for it to sound judgmental. You definitely were not about to make any negative comments after making this discovery. You didn’t want Johnny to feel bad, and also you found it very hot that he was able to get off like that. But your question caused a look of embarrassment to cross over Johnny’s face. You quickly sat up onto your knees and moved to the edge of the bed to take his face in your hands, forcing you to look at him.

“Hey,” you said in a soft, soothing voice. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I just wanted some confirmation on if that’s what happened or not.”

“I don’t want to confirm it,” Johnny muttered. “It’s fucking embarrassing.”

“No it’s not! Baby, that’s hot.”

“You think it’s hot that I came in my pants like a fucking middle schooler getting dry humped for the first time?”

You chuckled and pulled him so that he was sat on the bed next to you. “Okay, I understand why you may think it’s embarrassing. But to me, it’s really fucking hot to know that you got off that much by going down on me. Is that the first time it’s ever happened?”

Johnny nodded. He tried to look away from you, but you put a hand under his chin and forced him to look back up at you.

“No embarrassment,” you reminded him. “I’m just asking questions.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, it’s the first time. I’ve gotten turned on to a point where I was close before, but I’ve never gone that far where I came just from eating you out. Usually we fuck before I get to that point, but I guess where you were asleep when I started today, and I was already hard from my morning wood, I just...couldn’t hold it back.”

You leaned forward to press a kiss on Johnny’s cheek, moving inwards until your lips were nearly touching his ear.

“I think that’s really fucking hot,” you whispered in his ear, nibbling it slightly before pulling away. Red started to crawl up his neck towards his face as he looked at you with wide eyes. “You like eating this pussy so much that it makes you cum?”

He nodded, unable to form any words. You noticed his dick twitch and begin to grow slightly. You smirked to yourself as you reached between the two of you and wrapped your hand around the base. He gasped as you pumped him slightly, helping him along to become harder.

“I think it’s so hot that you definitely deserve the pleasure that you were robbed from getting earlier,” you continued. “Do you think you’d be okay with that? Can your cock handle feeling my tight pussy around it right now?”

He moaned and grabbed your face to kiss you deeply in response. By now, his dick was rock hard yet again and throbbing in your hand. He pulled at your shirt, the only article of clothing in the way of leaving the two of you completely bare. You broke the kiss long enough for him to pull the shirt over your head and throw it onto the floor with the rest of your discarded clothes. You pushed him so he was laying down on the bed and straddled his lap.

“You took such good care of me this morning, I think it’s time I took care of you,” you told him. “Is that okay?”

“Fuck, that’s more than okay,” he breathed. “God, you’re so fucking perfect. How did I ever get so lucky?”

You giggled and leaned down to kiss him. “Because you know how to give good head.”

#johnny knoxville #johnny knoxville imagine #johnny knoxville smut #johnny knoxville x reader #jackass #jackass imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #imagine

[suashii]

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒜 𝐹𝒪𝒪𝐿 𝐼𝒩 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸

info ⭑ geto suguru x reader ﾉ 2.4k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ ex-boyfriend geto ﾉ band au ﾉ hurt/comfort ﾉ a wee bit angsty ﾉ some suggestive bits ﾉ reader is tipsy ﾉ ambiguous ending

note ⭑ hi! after writing this, i really wanna continue something with this band au geto! not sure if that means i'll be making this into a series. . . perhaps an anthology? idk! lmk if you'd be interested :3 happy reading !

the streets of tokyo during the late hours of the day are restless—especially here in shibuya. you’d think the bustling crowds, fast pace, and your slightly tipsy state would make it difficult to recognize anyone but the universe seems keen to prove you wrong recently.

because standing at the corner of the street you’re supposed to be turning at is him—the man you haven’t seen in nearly five months and didn’t plan on seeing any time soon.

the sight of geto makes you stop–or more accurately, stumble–in your tracks. you can’t help the way your eyes widen and your mouth hangs open. it’s as if time slows for a couple of seconds in his distant presence. you can’t think straight and you aren’t sure if that’s because of him, too, or if you have the alcohol to blame for that.

regardless, when you finally regain cognitive function after what feels like an eternity, you’re able to tell yourself that you need to turn around and find another route home. unfortunately for you, the thought comes a second too late, geto spinning to face you just before you have the opportunity to turn on your heel. the brief moment of shared eye contact doesn’t stop you from trying to run for the hills, though you quietly curse yourself for getting caught in this predicament while you do so.

you hear the shout of your name from behind you, but you don’t dare come to a halt. your perseverance to escape is futile, made apparent by the newfound proximity of the familiar voice and the feel of fingers snaking around your wrist. you aren’t sure what possesses you to do so, but you quickly swing around to face the man hellbent on catching up to you. he seems just as surprised as you if the way his eyebrows shoot up is any evidence. 

“hey, wait—i come in peace.” geto raises his hands in mock surrender to show that he stands by his words.

you believe him. 

your fingers are cool as they brush against your forehead in an attempt to form a coherent sentence. there isn’t much you can think to say other than, “sorry, i just wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“i gathered as much.” geto nods, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. he knew this reunion–if it ever even happened–would be awkward, but the air between the two of you is so tense that he finds it a little hard to breathe. he clears his throat before continuing. “kind of looked like you were trying to avoid me though.”

“got me there,” you softly admit.

geto understands but he doesn’t relate. he’s been trying to get a hold of you since he landed back in japan last week and his efforts have been fruitless until now. running into you this way may have been a coincidence but geto doesn’t intend on squandering what just might be his one chance to tell you what has been nagging at his mind for the past few months. “look, i was hoping we could talk.”

the expression that paints your face upon hearing his request is apprehension. he can practically see the blinking red lights and hear the alarm bells going off in your head. and, as much as he hates to admit it, your worry makes sense. the last time he asked you to talk, he broke up with you.

“ten minutes—fifteen, max.” geto attempts to bargain. he hopes the limit on the time you have to spend with him will convince you to agree, to hear him out. it hurts, but after chewing on his cheek, he adds another condition that’ll work in your favor. “and after, if you don’t want to see me again, i’ll leave you alone for good.”

with as much effort as you’ve been putting into steering clear of geto since his return, you’d think his words would come as a comfort to you. they don’t, though. the feelings that surge within you at hearing them contradict your strict avoidance of geto up until this point. they make you confront the fact that you have wanted to see him and can’t stomach the thought of never seeing him again.

you’re taking a risk by doing so, but you nod.

“okay, let’s talk.”

the two of you end up at some park a little ways away from the city center—one where you can see the orangey-red leaves flutter through the air once they fall from the trees and watch the fountain in the pond shoot up water that rains back down. despite how pretty the scenery is, you can’t help but look at geto instead.

it’s been practically half a year since you last saw him. you’re sure he’s changed quite a bit since then but all you can focus on are the ways he’s stayed the same, the little parts of him that you missed while he was gone—like the dragon tattoo that snakes up his shoulder to his collarbone. seeing it floods your head with memories of when the two of you were together. mornings spent tracing the delicate lines with feathery touches, kissing up the ink and coloring the creature with love bites.

you almost flinch at the reminder. your plan wasn’t to revisit the past, at least, not those moments, but seeing the tattoo on display makes it almost impossible. it’s geto’s fault for wearing that stupid sleeveless hoodie. you drag your gaze up to meet the obsidian shards that are his eyes. “strange choice of attire for such a chilly night.”

he rubs his arm at your observation, a grin gracing his lips. “yeah, i didn’t plan on staying out for long.”

you know that you agreed to come with him, but even sitting on opposite sides of the same bench is proving to be overwhelming. so, instead of regarding his innocent statement as simply that, you view it as an out. “if you have somewhere you need to go or someone you’re supposed to meet, we can do this another time.”

“no way.” geto doesn’t let a beat of quiet pass before he speaks and shakes his head. “i finally caught you and i’m not letting you get away so easily.”

the confession stuns you to silence. there are a million thoughts bouncing off the walls of your skull right now–how this wasn’t a good idea, that you weren’t obligated to listen to what he wants to say–but the one that worms its way past the others and to the forefront is that his words are… romantic. it’s frustrating that you aren’t mad at him, especially when you’ve spent so long convincing yourself that you should be.

it seems as though the feelings you tried so hard to bury are beginning to resurface.

you clear your throat. “what was it that you wanted to talk about?”

“right,” geto starts, a hand coming up to scratch at his neck. his tongue pokes out from between his lips to poke at the metal hoops wrapped around them. they’re things he does when he’s nervous, like when he first asked you out on a date or when he’d tune his guitar while waiting to go on stage. you wonder what it is on his mind that has him so on edge. though, you aren’t sure if it’s your place to ask, to show concern like you used to, so you stay quiet.

“i guess i wanted to talk about how we left things,” he finally tells you.

you should have seen this coming, and maybe part of you–a part you were trying to ignore–did. there isn’t much more the two of you can discuss. there have been a lot of unspoken thoughts lingering on your mind since that night, ones that you never planned on letting see the light of day. you’ve gone so long sitting on your feelings; what’s the point in digging them up now?

“what more is there to talk about exactly?” you ask, crossing your arms—using them as a shield. “you broke up with me to go on tour and i told you that i understood—no hard feelings.”

geto is quiet across from you, but you can tell there’s something weighing on his mind, words on the tip of his tongue. a few moments of stillness pass before he spits it out. “i don’t think you mean that. not then and… not now.”

“what do you want me to say, suguru?” you toss your hands up in frustration. your voice has been low, controlled up until this point but rises with your question, with your growing irritation. does he want to humiliate you even more than he already has? your intention of continuing to sit on your feelings, to keep them hidden, is lost with the way words unknowingly spill past your lips. “that i was dumb for thinking that i was worth a little more effort to you? that i should have let go of you as easily as you did me?”

there’s a certain level of relief that comes with your words but they also open up a wound you’ve been trying your best to close. all the emotions you felt that night feel as raw as they did then, as though you’re reliving it all over again. 

the tears return, gathering at your lash line and threatening to fall but never rupturing the dam. the insecurity comes back, too. you can feel the ghost of a knife piercing your heart as you think about how it felt like he had chosen music over you. but who were you to ask him to reconsider—to think of you before his music, his dream?

tonight is turning out to be more than you can handle.

you’re about to stand, apologize for your outburst, and excuse yourself when geto speaks up.

“i didn’t let go of you—not really,” he quietly admits. his hand reaches up to his neck again, fingers twirling the loose hairs that happened to make it out of his bun. the action makes his words carry more truth and while you can’t bring yourself to believe him entirely, hearing them has an uncontrollable effect on you.

one of the tears you were adamant about not shedding until you were out of his sight rolls down your cheek. you quickly wipe it away with the sleeve of your shirt. “you don’t have to say that, it’s not going to make me feel any better.”

“i mean it, though, i do.” when you finally muster up the courage to meet his stare, his eyes tell you that what he said is the truth. his eyes have never lied. “i thought about you every day while i was on tour.”

the confession sends a pang to your heart. it clears up the fog of turmoil clouding your mind, although a haze of uncertainty lingers. does he mean that he missed you—the same way you’ve been hopelessly missing him?

you don’t have to aimlessly ponder, as geto continues.

“look, i asked you here because i wanted to tell you that i regret how i went about things. i thought about my choice–about you–a lot. and i realized a little too late that i owed us a chance. i was scared that we couldn’t handle long distance and that we’d both end up hurt but i never considered the possibility that it might have worked for us.”

geto unconsciously reaches for you, though when he realizes what he’s doing, he thinks better of it, letting his hand rest in his lap instead. just because he’s laying himself bare for you doesn’t mean the pain he’s caused has disappeared. besides, he still has one thing to say before you can even consider forgiving him.

his tongue glides across his lower lip, over the two silver hoops situated on either side. “i made a decision that both of us should have had a say in. i’m sorry.”

beyond the feelings of heartache and self-doubt, the thing you felt most that night was unheard—as if anything you could have thought to utter during that moment would have fallen on deaf ears. geto seems to have noticed that much, reflected on it and recognized his mistake. his apology, the acknowledgment of his fault, unchains the final weight that was tugging at your heart.  

you sniff and dab at the stray tears that have trickled down your face. “thanks for saying so. and… i forgive you.”

there’s a weight of his own that makes geto’s chest feel lighter upon hearing your words. from the minute he started rehearsing this conversation, he imagined that he’d damaged you to the point of being unworthy of your compassion, your forgiveness. this is more than he could have asked for, even if you still choose to take him up on his offer of leaving you alone for good.

“i’m glad,” geto nods, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips, though he doesn’t let the short moment of happiness overtake him. “i know that was probably a lot and if you need to take some time to decide how you want us to proceed, if at all, i understand.”

you shake your head and the corners of geto’s lips fall into a neutral line. he made a good point earlier, one that you can’t ignore if you want to prevent yourself from getting hurt the way you did before. and despite just learning about it, geto was hurting, too. if you can minimize the pain either of you have to experience, you will.

you clear your throat with hopes that your voice will come out steady. “i’d rather come to that conclusion together. since it has to do with both of us, y’know?”

geto’s shoulders slump as the tension seeps from them. “yeah. yeah, of course. whenever you’re ready.”

“we can start tonight if you have time,” you suggest, bashfully rubbing up and down your arms. it really feels like you’re starting over. before you knew his name, simply when you had a crush on the hot guy playing at the bar you were visiting for the night. “i want to hear about how your tour went.”

“okay,” geto easily agrees, the smile from earlier making its way back to his lips. it meets his eyes and the obsidian shards sparkle—with hope.

hi there, sua here! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x you #jjk x you #geto drabble #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios

[insomniumstella]

drunken nights

bucky x reader

summary: this story genuinely does not have anything that could remotely resemble a plot.

warnings: smut, 18&up only

word count: 1,369

author’s note: foreplay? never heard of it. i should stop writing when i’m drunk because this is the filthiest of filth i have ever written, but also it could somehow be filthier? idk atp, so i might write a more in-depth follow up once i’m sober. anyways, obsessed by zandros & limi would be the perfect song if you like reading with music in the background!

“You’re such a pretty girl,” he hissed, the sound low and almost delicate, “my girl.” The statement stood true, she thought — she was Bucky’s as much as he was hers, and y/n couldn’t imagine being someone else’s. Not after the events they’ve been through. She had been the woman who stood by his side for years, even when the whole world tried convincing the man he couldn’t ever live as anyone, but the Winter Soldier.

“Thank you.” She felt her cheeks heat up, her words coming out mumbled as she wrapped her lips around his cock once more.

James Buchanan Barnes was as perfect as boyfriends could get, and after the painstakingly hard mission he had just gotten home from, y/n believed he deserved to come undone, whether it was by her mouth or her entire body. James was the kind of man she was willing to provide special treatment for, always; the first and the only for he had ruined her. No one fucked better than James Barnes.

She licked his red tip, tasting the salty pre-cum with delight. Bucky’s abs clenched, involuntary, letting the woman know he was close, and y/n licked a prominent vein on the base of his shaft before continuing her assault on his impressive length when he allowed a strained whimper to pass through his lips.

“Don’t you dare stop, doll.” He clenched the sheets with his flesh hand, the metal appendage coming to grip the base of her neck, guiding his cock deeper down her throat, so deep, she choked, with spit running down both the skin of James’s upper thighs and her chin.

This must be what heaven feels like, he wondered as she took him to the top, forcing his body to crash in the sweetest of waves, his orgasm overtaking the entirety of his body, stretching from Bucky’s tiptoes to his head, short moans falling out of his mouth like a prayer. Her mouth was perfect, she was perfect, and as she licked his slit clean of the salty substance, James decided, that, yes, y/n must be a part of heaven, for I couldn’t imagine such a place without her. 

He allowed himself a moment of uninterrupted peace, the aftershock of his orgasm still settling in his bones. It was only when he opened his eyes did he notice y/n, eyes wide and curious, staring at him. Though she was just on top of him, taking control, she had gone back to seeming utterly submissive, the expression on her face permitting James the knowledge that he had already known for years — she wanted to, and she would, do anything and everything he’d ask of her. She’d let him mold her like clay in any shape or form he craved for the night. And, no, James would never take advantage of the woman, but, yes, he would grant her the most satisfying of pleasure, and, maybe, only if she agreed, which she always did anyways, he’d ruin her further, driving his cock into her pussy from the most outrageous of positions he could think of until the only coherent word she could muster was a weak sound of his name. 

“Princess,” he purred, “would you please get down on all fours for me?” He smiled innocently, and y/n could not disobey the charming expression. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

James came to kneel behind her, his dick hard once again, almost throbbing for friction, and when the back of her thighs touched his own, he swore he could probably come again just from the sight of y/n on her knees and forearms, back arched at a perfect angle. 

He palmed himself a few times before teasing her entrance. She was dripping from anticipation and the previous orgasm James ripped from her. It was so fresh in her mind it didn’t register as a memory — his lips sucking her clit, his long fingers diving between her aching walls. He had pinned her thighs to their shared bed, forcing the woman to keep them open no matter how much she wanted to close her legs from the intensity of it all. He had been simultaneously soft and rough, edging her until all she could do was beg, broken please falling from her mouth, accompanied by let me come, sir. 

“You’re taking my cock so well, doll.” James praised his girlfriend once he finally bottomed out, heavy balls slapping against the skin of her inner thighs, and she let out a high-pitched moan. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath after a couple of strokes, each more desperate than the last, “have you always been this tight?”

She didn’t answer, too lost in the pleasure of James thrusting in and out, each stroke hitting the most sensitive spot inside her. 

“I asked you a question,” the man swiftly removed himself from y/n’s heat, gripping the base of his dick to drag it along her slit. She whined from the gruesome sensation of clenching around emptiness and having the one thing she craved above all be so close yet so far.

James chuckled, grabbing her waist, and sneaked his other hand to rub y/n’s clit in achingly slow and too soft of circles.

“Mmmh.” She hummed, too lost in the regained pleasure, and though it wasn’t nearly enough, it was something to please her needy body. It was as the physical vessel y/n called her body needed James to survive, for she’d be dead without his touch, a shell of a person if James Barnes didn’t wreck her insides there and then.

His hand left her waist as he thrust into y/n, coming to rest on her stomach. James massaged the area, loving the way he could feel the bulge of his cock. “Feel this?” James asked, and she nodded without missing a beat. He chuckled, clasping her neck with his metal hand and pulling the woman up so her back would rest against his muscular chest. “I'm the only man who has ever made you feel this good," he thrusted up, fingers digging into her skin, "aren't I?"

"Yes, daddy," she moaned without thinking, her own hands searching to grab anything she could reach, whether it was the sheets or Bucky's forearm from when his right arm circled her waist.

He paused all movement for a second, too turned on by a single word than he cared to admit before speeding up, each stroke becoming speedier, rougher. James needed y/n to orgasm as much as he needed to breathe, his own release chasing after him. "That's right," he trailed sloppy kisses from the base of y/n's neck to her jawline, "daddy will take care of you, doll," he placed one final kiss and shoved her body into the bed again, hands caressing her lower back before he pushed it down for a deeper arch, "real good care."

She could only mumble and whine with her face stuffed into the pillow and ass arched high up in the air, Bucky's calloused hand landing deliciously painful smacks on her tender skin. One, she moaned from the contact, silently counting in her head, two, three. The woman was expecting a fourth smack to land on the skin of her butt, perhaps the side of her thighs, as she could feel James throbbing inside her and knew his concentration was somewhere between lost and forgotten, but it never came. Instead, his fingers, both flesh, and metal dug into her hips as he covered her walls with thick, hot ropes of cum, and she clenched around him, finding herself coming for the second time that night. 

She moaned, loud and unapologetic, allowing the orgasm to seep into her bones until it was nothing but a whisper of the pleasure Bucky had given her. His movements had stilled, but James didn't care to pull out, letting his cock soften inside her.

He smiled, even though she couldn't see it, and leaned down to place comfortingly soft kisses on y/n's shoulders. "I love you." He whispered into her skin. "My good girl," James pulled out, watching the mesmerizing sight of his cum leaking out of his girl before he pushed it back inside her with two of his fingers, "mine only."

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine

[lewkwoodnco]

"Slut!" - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: been having a lottt of thoughts about this song. it wasn't what I expected like for a lot of ppl but this is immediately my favourite?? like idk man those hints of her rep era beginning mixed with the emotional vulnerability of being in love mannn im going to be annoying abt this for a wholeee month. Reader is a Fittes agent, wc 5.4k!!

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 3.5 | Ch 4 | Ch 5

On paper, her employers had always commended her for her drive for excellence. What was usually glossed over was how it arose from an unhealthy obsession with perfection, not that it mattered. And yet, glowing articles about successful cases were rare and far between. She had led as many successful cases as some of her male colleagues, but those headlines were seemingly too dull for her sex. After all, who wanted to read about a woman showing up the men in her field? So the tabloids started to play dirty, spinning convoluted rumoured love stories from any and every photo of her in the vicinity of a man.

She remembered how devastating the first article was. Instead of publishing one of the many photos of her standing with her team, there was a shadowed, grainy photograph of her talking to their supervisor. She tried to tell anyone who asked her that no, they weren't kissing, not that it would have mattered if it did, but no one seemed much interested in listening. The shame burnt into the side of her face like a scarlet letter. A slut.

Eventually, she decided to just keep everyone at arm's length. Maybe if she kept her head down long enough they'd run out of knives to throw at her. And for a good two years, it somewhat worked, or at least helped. But then she met Lockwood.

She didn't think much of him at first - if anything, she resented his suave, silver tongue and how the press went nuts for his charismatic smiles. He tried to dazzle her with one when they first met, and she nearly scoffed.

"Anthony Lockwood, Lockwood and Co. And you are...?"

"Disgusted."

She tried talking to Barnes, throwing in some less-than-complimentary opinions on Lockwood, but he just waved her off. Eventually, she came around, but only because he was undeniably skilled, and it would have been unprofessional to freeze him out forever.

She remembered the first time he made her smile. Their supervisor was having them sign their case report, so she wasn't even looking at him. He whispered some inane remark which caught her completely off-guard, but it was enough to make her damage the tip of the fountain pen as she choked on a laugh. Her supervisor looked unimpressed, grumbling about the pen, but Lockwood's face had taken on an animated spark.

"Oh, good. I was beginning to wonder if you knew how to smile."

The smile is a foreign feeling on her face. Lockwood gently takes the report from her and starts talking in smooth tones that flow right over her head. She shakes herself and tries to pull herself together, trying to soothe the nervous flutter of her heart. She can only bear catching glimpses of his words and she struggles to string together coherent responses.

But then she hears the vans pulling up. Vans filled with news agencies and their bulky cameras. She's paralysed by a flash of fear and she jumps apart from Lockwood as if burnt, tripping over her words as she forces out some lame excuse of needing to check on her team. Lockwood looks mildly concerned, but she pushes it to the back of her mind.

They meet again a week or two later. She's sitting outside a conference room, waiting for Barnes to finish a meeting, and she realises with a start that the man in the room she's facing is Lockwood. To be fair, she hadn't seen him in an indoor setting before, and he seemed nearly unrecognisable with his typically crisp shirt dusty and wrinkled, with his sleeves rolled up his forearms. She watches him laugh over something with one of his associates as they leave the room, and she drinks in the sight like a man starved. There is something so desperately appealing about the vitality in his face and jaunty movements.

As the smile fades, she recognises the exhaustion on his face; the kind that made her want to do nothing more than stumble home and crawl under the covers. But then he sees her, and he gives her a teasing smile that stokes her spirits. His associate gives her a tired wave and walks out.

"Waiting for me?"

She rolls her eyes and nods towards the conference room. "Waiting for Barnes. Going home?"

He jerks his head noncommittally before sitting down next to her. He looks oddly bare without his coat, and it feels almost too intimate to have him sitting this close to her. She sits up, alarmed.

"What, you need to see him too?"

"You look like you could use some company."

"Lockwood, it could be hours before he's done. Besides, you look like death. Go home, get some rest."

"Joke's on you, I always look like death."

She shakes her head but smiles despite herself. "You're incorrigible."

"Thank you."

They sit in silence for a while, long enough until her breathing evens out. She wonders if he's aware of the way his fingers drum restlessly on his thigh, or the ash coating the side of his face, or how both of those things make him utterly irresistible.

"How do you do it? Stay so young, I mean."

He considers his answer carefully. She takes in the sight of a Lockwood without a ready quip at the tip of his tongue. "I suppose it helps that I'm not singly obsessed with the dead, though it does get close sometimes. Who do you live with?"

"Oh, my family lives outside of London." Thank god. She couldn't imagine the looks on their faces if they heard half of what London's tabloids had to say about her.

"You live alone?"

"Yeah. But it's not so bad. There's a cat that wanders in the street below my flat at night." He doesn't look completely convinced, but he lets it slide.

"Really, I owe it all to my friends - oh, you'd love them. You should come over sometime."

"That's sweet of you."

"Our weekends are generally empty."

"Oh...I couldn't. I don't know where you live."

"35 Portland Row."

"Lockwood," she admonishes. "Don't you think this is something you should run by your friends first?"

"I've done worse."

"I'm practically a stranger."

"Then how else are we supposed to get to know you?"

Her mind tears her away from Lockwood's silhouette, to troubling piles of tabloids dragging her to filth. After months of them, she isn't sure where she ends and where the fabrication begins. She barely manages a whisper.

"I think you'd regret getting to know me."

She doesn't realise how tightly her fist is clenched until he brushes her wrist, and the tension flows out of her. His eyes are liquid and his touch is golden and she's paralysed with dizziness. In that moment, it was enough to be young and in love.

"Only one way to find out."

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

She takes him up on his invitation sooner than either of them expected. They had just finished a job at a house just a street over from Portland Row, and her team was walking with Lockwood & Co. on their way to the main street. She pauses as George fiddles with the frozen door while the rest of her team walk on, tiredly waving them good night. But just as she turns to leave, she slips on a patch of ice, falling into a pile of snow while Lockwood lunges for her.

"Dear god, you must be freezing. Come in and warm up."

"It's alright, I can catch a cab home-"

"Y/N, I am not above pushing you back into the snow."

Her laugh morphs into a violent shiver, just as Lucy walks over concernedly.

"Everything okay? Lockwood's not bullying you, is he?" She cracks a small smile, but Lockwood just impatiently ignores Lucy.

"Stay for breakfast. Spend the day. Lucy would love the company. Luce, tell her."

"It would be nice."

"I'm soaked through. I need a change of clothes."

"Lucy can get you a change of clothes. Luce, tell her."

"I can get you a change of clothes."

"I wouldn't want to be an imposition."

Lockwood inhales and turns to Lucy, who smacks the breath right out of him.

"I'm right here, Lockwood. Don't be ridiculous, Y/N, we'd love to have you over." Lucy exchanges a look with Lockwood, but it's so brief she wonders if she's imagined it, but it's just then that George forces the door open, and she gets jostled into their warm and dry home. Lucy helps her dry off and tosses her some clothes, including a spare oversized jumper, before bundling her and setting her down in front of the fire in the library.

It feels wonderfully cosy at first, and she only realises she's dozed off when she wakes up with a crick in her neck and beads of sweat on her forehead and neck. She pushes the blankets off her, sighing in relief as she starts to cool down. She hears the rustle of a page behind her and turns.

Lockwood is sitting in an armchair behind her, tie loosened and sleeves rolled up, a magazine on his lap. He smiles weakly at her, wincing as he rotates his neck. She was beginning to feel convinced that he ate, slept and worked in the same set of clothes. Her voice is gravelly with sleep.

"Still up?"

"Someone had to make sure you didn't roll into the fire. Besides, it hasn't been long."

She squints at the clock hung near the door. Unless the shadows were playing tricks on her, it was only a few hours from dawn. The glance he shared with Lucy earlier flashes in her mind, and she presses him about it.

"Say, you haven't told Lucy anything particularly saddening about me, have you?"

He waffles a bit. "I haven't said anything that isn't true."

"Lockwood."

"Fine...I might have mentioned how you live alone, and that you've only got a cold, dark home waiting for you. Alone."

"I didn't say that."

"So you're saying it's not true?"

She hesitates, and he quirks the corner of his mouth triumphantly. "It's no bother, Y/N. Lucy feels as bad about it as I do - George too. Just let us fuss over you for a while, I promise it'll soothe us."

She relents, but she's not happy about it. She watches him lazily flip through the pages with a becoming interest and decides that it's a nice change from the frantic energy running through him on cases. His eyes stay mostly fixed on the pages, but after a while the way he glances up occasionally makes her think his interest is waning. He looks at her strangely, and she unpleasantly realises that the jumper is likely his. She tugs at the hem, itching to take it off, but she isn't wearing a shirt underneath, so she settles for continuing to profusely apologise.

"I'm so sorry for burdening all of you-"

"Y/N, relax. As long as you're warm."

"Well...I'm awake now. And I won't stay too close to the fire. Aren't you going to sleep?"

"I'm a bit wired after the case. Might take a nap later in the day." He jerks his head towards the door. "My room's just down the hallway if you'd like to get some proper rest."

She flushes; talking about his bedroom while wearing his jumper feels too intimate to bear. "It's okay. I'd rather stay here with...you." She chews the inside of her cheek as soon as she says it, holding her breath as she gauges his reaction.

"That's a relief. I'd rather you be here anyway."

She doesn't understand how he says it so casually when she feels that she might run out of air. She tries to calm herself down, taking deep, long breaths. She could be normal if she tried hard enough. They spend the rest of the night like that, somehow never running out of topics to discuss. He tells her about Jessica. She tells her about her family. It's only as he gets up to get ready for breakfast that she asks him about the magazine in his lap. "What were you reading?"

Now it's his turn to look embarrassed. "Oh, er, I like to keep up with what's happening around town -"

"Is that...a tabloid?" She pulls out one of the magazines sticking out of the pile set to the side and blanches at the headline with a dramatically edited photograph of her. Shame burns the side of her face, and she wishes the floor would just open up and swallow her whole. She had stupidly assumed he hadn't heard of her before meeting her, but why shouldn't he have? The magazines beat her to making a first impression, just like they always have. Just like they always will.

"I can explain."

"No, no, it's fine." Was something wrong with her ears, or did her voice sound a bit too distant? "Lots of people read tabloids. It doesn't mean anything. Anyway, we should get ready for breakfast."

"Y/-"

"Lockwood. I mean it. Drop it." The cut-up look in his eyes is bad enough without an apology. What was he apologising for? For her being such For her being a laughingstock? He bows his head and shuffles out of the library. She stays there, frozen, sitting on the floor, until she hears George rattling about in the kitchen. She walks in, slightly disconcerted by the casual t-shirt Lockwood had changed into. So many of his hard edges and shadows in the the library seemed to soften into a more vulnerable outline that makes her regret snapping at him. She mumbles a greeting and George takes a long look at her. If he notices their matching eye bags, he doesn't comment on it, but while she's making tea, she hears a scuffle behind her and turns to see George standing next to Lockwood with the frying pan alarmingly close to his head.

"Eggs, Y/N?"

Lucy arrives soon after, and begins to spread jam on her toast despite George's aggrieved protests.

"Oh, Y/N, I hope you didn't spend all night on the hard floor. I didn't hear you come up to the attic."

"The attic?"

"Yeah, where the extra bed is." She brandishes her jelly-covered knife vaguely threateningly. "Lockwood told you about it, didn't he?"

The boy in question seems a bit too busy buttering his bread to look up. She mumbles an affirmative, but notices his reluctance to meet her eye for majority of breakfast. Still, she couldn't stay mad at him for long, and it didn't seem awfully polite to, either, not after he opened his home to her.

After breakfast, Lockwood left to scope out a potential client and George headed to the Archives for a bit of light reading, so she and Lucy spend the morning playing board games and watching crappy television while painting their nails. She hadn't felt so alive in months. After a few hours, Lucy suddenly remembers some paperwork she had to complete so while she's busy with that, she wanders around the stairs and hallways, reading every newspaper clipping and looking at every picture, eventually working her way down to the kitchen.

She hears a creak coming from the inside and looks in. Lockwood's returned from his excursion and he shrugs off his jacket, placing it on one of the kitchen chairs as she timidly steps in. He seems just as much at a loss for words as her. She tries to break the ice and, surprisingly, it works.

"Seems a bit full of yourself to litter the halls with your achievements." He gives her a small smile and she revels in the glimmer of success.

"Can't help that I'm especially gifted."

Emboldened, she takes a seat at the table as he pulls out an apple from the fruit bowl and a chopping board.

"Nasty business with the press, isn't it?"

She moodily fiddles with the thinking cloth. "Yeah, well. God forbid a woman be happy."

He looks at her like he's trying to figure her out. The attention makes her fidget nervously. They watch him slice the apple into halves, and then quarters, in silence. "Is that why you're so...highly strung on cases?"

"George tell you to talk to me?"

"Er, yes, but he didn't need to. I'm sorry about earlier, by the way. I have an uncanny ability of putting my foot in it."

"I'd never have guessed." She isn't even being sarcastic. She talks to the apple rather than him. "I hate it. They say all these...awful things about me. Not that I have to tell you." She blinks humourlessly. He sets down the knife.

"Y/N, if you think I believe a word those gossip rags have to say about you, I might be seriously overestimating your intelligence."

She swallows the lump in her throat. It's the nicest thing anyone has said to her in a long while. She never fully acknowledged it because that would mean admitting she cared, that she was weak. But she couldn't help it. She lived life forever looking over her shoulder, so wrapped up in what ifs that she could barely stomach what was, forever worrying that anyone would think it was true. Maybe it was true. Her self-perception contorts and convulses, until she feels strangely formless. But that was the beauty of the moment: hidden away in the dim light of the kitchen, with only Lockwood and God as her witness, she could be anything and everything.

Her hand trembles with repressed emotion. He steadies her by carefully covering it with his own.

And for one beautiful, transcendent moment, she thought she might love him.

She walks home in a pleasant haze, her senses enjoying the reprieve from their constant assault. She ambles by a florist, and she sees a rose. It reminds her of Lockwood. She buys the rose and takes it home, even though she knows she doesn't have a vase for it. Even after a day filled with the most fun she'd had in a while, a restlessness troubles her, making her feel feverish with some invisible affliction. She plucks the translucent petals one by one, holding them up to the setting sun streaming through her windows. She wonders what they would look like in his hair. She winces when one of the thorns break the skin of her thumb. She rubs the smear of blood onto her bottom lip. Looking up at the ceiling, her hair a mess, tangled with the rose petals strewn all over her wrinkled sheets, she realises what it means to be hopelessly and cluelessly lovesick.

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

She remembers the first time she cries in front of him. They were on a case at some billionaire's acres-large manor. She ducks under the tape cordoning off the area and freezes, seeing reporters unobtrusively yet steadily setting up their cameras. There had to be some sort of mistake, they're never here this early. Certainly not before they've even started the job. She feels her senses heighten and a faint buzzing teases her ears. She sees Lockwood glance at her and start walking towards her, and she all but flees in the other direction.

She stays a safe distance away from him until the rest of the agents arrive for their briefing. The billionaire's assistant hadn't arrived yet, so they were standing around one of the outdoor picnic tables in the front garden...right in front of the gathering sea of reporters. She tries her best to pay attention but there's a muffled quality to the discussion as she listens for shutter sounds, real or imagined. Her hands grow clammy and her breathing grows jagged as the ominous feeling in her stomach grows. Something very bad was going to happen and it was going to happen soon, she was sure of it.

As if in slow motion, she watches Lockwood reach across to pick up a file from the table beside her on the table, and she feels her panic reach a crescendo as she senses the ripple of excitement in the press. She flinches so badly before he completes the movement that he gets startled, backing away. The question dies on his lips as she walks away, clumsily adjusting her rapier to give her hands something to do. To stop herself from sobbing over the lenses in her peripheral vision.

The press are just as ruthless as they were the last time she made the mistake of not leaving the scene as soon as she had the chance. And still from the chorus of overlapping voices, one made her heart stop dead.

"Y/N L/N, what do you have to say for seducing London's most eligible bachelor?"

She looks around desperately, struggling against waves of despair that threatened to drag her down into the abyss. No one was safe, not even charismatic Lockwood, and it was all her fault for dragging him into her messy life. It wasn’t fair that news agencies chose her life to screw with. She loved him silly with bruised eyes and an aching liver, but she couldn't even look at him properly. She couldn't scrub the image of Lockwood's face from her mind. Hot shame spread from her spine up her neck, an unpleasant prickling sensation. She felt flayed and grotesque, a hundred different kinds of twisted and messed up. Promiscuous on paper, manic in reality, enraptured by what she could never have.

Lockwood finds her sitting on the patchy grass of the backyard, head resting against the wall with suspiciously red eyes. He thinks for a moment before sitting down next to her.

“Hey.”

She’s too busy holding back tears to respond. She despairs internally when she first hears his voice, wishing he didn't care enough about her to follow her. God, they were going to make her pay for this tomorrow. He speaks in a low, soothing voice, but there's an underlying disquiet that comforts her. She'd never have imagined him to feel rattled by the press like she did.

"It all happened so quick, even George didn't realise."

"Doesn't matter. They got what they wanted."

"We'll talk to the assistant as soon as she gets here. We'll refuse to work until they clear out."

She feels an overwhelming amount of relief, not just for his help, but just for him. Sitting here solidly, away from prying eyes, rumours and lies, he felt like a precious secret she wanted to keep. The relief doesn't last long until it gets poisoned into grief. She rasps out an apology.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Everything." She feels herself shutting down, unravelling at the seams. But then there's this warmth next to her and a solid, reassuring weight across her shoulders. She shakes with mostly silent sobs, not realising that she's crumpled his shirt from clenching it until later. She sniffles into his shirt like a child, and clings to him with the desperation of a drowning man.

He insists that she sits out for the case, and for once, she listens.

The next time they meet is a little bittersweet. She tells him she's being posted outside of London for a month. It's sobering news, even for him.

"A whole month. Well, it'll go by faster than you realise."

"I hope so."

"How're you feeling?"

"Nervous, I suppose." She was dreading it. She didn't know how she ever worked on a case before Lockwood. At first, she thought it was simply because he took attention from the press off her hands. But there was just something about his presence that made the tension coiled in her body unwind. She tries to keep her tone light, but something must have shown on her face because he sighs and throws an arm over her shoulder, steering her away from the crowd of agents, medics and reporters.

"Don't fret. You'll be fine, trust me. You'll have your teammates with you, Barnes is supervising and you know he can't stand the press, and I've yet to read a headline vicious enough to knock you down for good. You're stronger than you realise, you know." She nods glumly, dragging her feet along. She looks up when he pulls away slightly, frowning at her face. He rubs at the furrow in her brow and she feels her face heat up.

"I said to not fret. You have everything you need." That earns him a weak smile, and though he doesn't look entirely happy with it, he can see George looking around for him. She watches him walk back as he mouths 'one month' to her, trying to smile encouragingly. The sun has started to rise, and the dusk casts a soft purple glow on his hair. She mumbles her response to the wind.

"What if...all I need is you?"

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

The month drags by painfully, but it finally ends. She packs her bags and takes the first train to London, just in time to join Lockwood for a case after a bit of begging at Barnes' feet. The job is at another mansion, but somehow even more extravagant and sprawling than the last one. It's bathed in a soft bubblegum pink glow, spilling out into its lawns and hedges and fountains.

She watches him explaining something to one of her colleagues, making some light sketches on the report. He looks exactly the same if a little haggard, yet older somehow, and it tugs at her heart. She had heard that this was supposed to be the last of a particularly tedious string of connected cases, and it had clearly taken a toll on him. Her heart skips a beat at the boyish glow that washes over his features when he sees her.

"...and for the Limbless George was sa- you weren't supposed to be back till Sunday!"

She flushes, beaming excitedly. Part of her wants to hug him, but another part is too scared to, so she contends with her smile.

"We finished early, and I wore Barnes down eventually. Now, what's this about a Limbless?"

The case goes more than smoothly with the extra help of her and her team, and they end up finishing comfortably before midnight, though not without a few minor mishaps. She finds Lockwood with his sleeves and trousers rolled up, dangling his legs in the pool, scrubbing at his hands.

"Wet cement," he grunts as a greeting, looking peevishly at the not-so-clearly cordoned off patch of wet cement. "Ought to have told us. Someone could have gotten properly injured."

"Oh, who'd be silly enough to fall into that?"

"Let me rephrase that: Quill Kipps could have gotten properly injured."

She laughs, turning to add her own handprint next to his in the cement. She smiles coyly as she tenderly scrapes the residue of her palm. He leans in, then stops, sniffing curiously.

"Is that...smoke?"

"Had a bit of an incident with a salt bomb. Someone threw it in the wrong direction."

"Ah."

They're interrupted by a loud whoop from the other end of the pool. A couple of Fittes boys had broken into the liquor cabinet and were now the proud owners of three preciously high-end bottles of champagne. She tried to look at them reprovingly, but couldn't find it in her.

"Oh well. We'll put that down under property damage."

One of her teammates scurried over to clarify a discrepancy in her paperwork, and she leaves to sort it out. By the time she's back, Lockwood's tie is loosened and he's swaying along to some invisible music.

"Y/N! You've got to try some of this stuff, it's grrrreat!"

She shakes her head bemusedly. "Lockwood. How many glasses have you had?"

"Oh, just one." He blinks at the glass in his hand. "One and a half." He drags her in briefly, whispering into her ear. "Besides, what happened to being young?"

Her heart hammers as soon as she feels the tug on her wrist; she's never even touched him in public before. She scans the scene reflexively, but no one seems to have noticed. She supposed getting drunk and making ill-thought-out decisions was the youngest she could be, so she decided to have a little sip.

"Clink?"

"I don't think you're supposed to say it."

He makes a face, clearly more tipsy than he was letting on. "Whatever. I'm saying it."

Still, she humours him, and he looks at her with shameless adoration. Even while well on the way to getting drunk, there was an endearing tilt to his swagger and rosy cheeks that made his youth a delectable luxury. She takes a sip, then another, and then tries to drown herself in champagne, anything to distract her from the way he stole her breath, the fizz electric under her thrumming skin.

They return to where they were sitting earlier, watching some of the more boisterous agents splash into the pool. Someone manages to switch off the harsh floodlights overlooking the pool, washing everyone's outlines with a tangerine glow from the orange neon lights. They talk about their month apart, then catch the eye of the other in a way that makes them both look away, and the cycle repeats.

"I've missed you."

She can't tell which of them says it first, only that the yearning in her voice mirrored his. The look in his eyes scares her yet appeals to her daring all at once. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to.

"We...I...couldn't. It'd go horribly wrong, and you'd hate me, or they'd double down and it'd blow up in your pretty face."

"I'll take my chances." He says it so casually that it stings.

"This isn't exactly bearable for me either, you know."

The background noise fades away, and suddenly speaking at normal volume is too loud. She whispers, as if he might not hear if she's soft enough. "You give me your bed and twist your neck dozing in an armchair. You stick up for me when I'm too weak to stick up for myself. You pull me in when I'm breaking down and hold my fractured pieces together. I can't help but love you." He follows her line of vision to the camera lens peeking through the wall of foliage, not as sneaky as it was trying to be.

"And if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were in love with me."

He inhales roughly, and she recognises his unsteady breathing.

"Are you...?" Lockwood's voice makes her tear her eyes away from the lens, and focus on his soft brown tired eyes.

"...Might as well. Right?" She tries to hide how badly she needs his acknowledgement. He searches for something in her eyes she's not sure exists. Her heart is in her mouth as he tenderly covers her hand, and suddenly she's sitting at the kitchen table at Portland Row again; unsure and raw and hoping against hope for a love like his. He strokes the back of her hand with him thumb, deep in thought, as if soothing her, or maybe telling her to stop, breathe and think about this horrible decision.

"They'll publish the most horrible things tomorrow."

"I thought that didn't matter."

"Not to me. But it does for you."

"It's worth it. You're worth it."

He closes his eyes, and she watches his eyes shift restlessly behind his eyelids, as if fighting a losing battle. "They'll give you hell for it."

She whispers into his mouth. "Damned if I do, damned if I don't. They're watching either way."

His lips twitch. Her eyes flutter close. She inhales the space between them, their noses softly bumping against each other as they tilt their heads.

Slut.

She leans into him and her lips part as he deepens the kiss. She feels the tangerine neon light burn into the expanse of her exposed skin from her neck to her shoulder.

Slut.

She feels a hand on her lower back as she wraps an arm around his neck, craning her neck upwards. The kiss is equally delicious and bruising, and she feels herself getting drunk on his touch.

Slut.

The pressure on her lips fade and he pulls away, giving her the choice to back out. In the span of a second he shifts from a hazy sunset to the deep aquamarine pool in front of them, and then she's leaning in and devouring him like they could never be close enough.

Slut.

Her mind holds the whisper like a promise.

#fanfiction #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood imagine #fanfic #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood x y/n #taylor swift #taylor swift 1989 #1989 taylor's version #1989 tv #1989 #slut! taylor’s version #slut!

[babiebom]

Ass or Boobs? (sdv edition)

A/N:got this idea when doing an alphabet request!! I wanted to do this first to break up the posts somehow and also I’m watching Charmed and eating a burrito so I’m literally just on a writing binge rn. I’m going between requests, fics, and random things <3 I’m getting nothing and everything done at one time. BOTH bachelors and bachelorettes but basic sdv only.

Genre:shitpost/headcanons

Tw: sexual content!!

Masterlist

Ass:

Sebastian, Shane, Elliott, Haley, Penny, Abigail

Sebastian is more of a thigh and hips guy, but since your ass goes with that, it’s obviously a given.

Personally, I do think Shane would be into anal so him being an ass man makes sense he likes that recoil baby.

Elliott just seems more like an ass guy rather than a boob guy, like he thinks boobs are a childish thing to be into. Idk how he thinks but he does lmao.

Abigail is obviously an ass girl, she likes how everyone’s butts looks in any kind of bottoms. Gets caught staring EVERY SINGLE TIME.

Haley is an ass girl because she also had a great rack and she thinks that while everyone does have asses, they’re great and yours is the best.

Penny is one of those people that I think would be both, but I think rather than boobs she prefers asses.

Boobs:

Sam, Alex, Harvey, Leah, Maru, Emily

Maru is definitely the type to get caught staring at someone’s boobs. Any coherent thought she has leaves her mind at the sight of a good pair of boobs. Gets caught staring often

Emily also gets caught staring but isn’t as embarrassing for her. She just smiles and complements you like heh heh oopsies.

Leah sees boobs in a more artistic way, and LOVES painting them(and on them), drawing them, sculpting him. Probably has a clay mold of your boobs.

Sam literally is Maru but a man and a golden retriever. When he stares the only thing knocking him out of his mind is going “Sam…SAM!!” He just laughs as his face turns red.

Harvey gets flustered at the sight of boobs. His face turns red, he stutters, and while he doesn’t stare it’s obvious that he was looking.

Alex just seems like he’s a boob man. Like if they’re on the tv or something he’s like “heheheheheh boobs heheheheheheh” probably the reason why Elliott thinks it’s childish.

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew #sdv headcanons #stardew headcanon #stardew valley headcanons #sdv sebastian #stardew sebastian #sdv abigail #stardew valley sebastian #stardew abigail #stardew valley abigail #sdv shitpost #stardew shitpost #stardew valley shitpost #sdv sam #stardew sam #stardew valley Sam #sdv harvey #stardew harvey #stardew valley harvey #sdv shane #stardew shane #stardew valley shane #sdv elliott #sdv alex #sdv penny #sdv haley #sdv maru #sdv leah

[transmascutena]

the scenes where characters go to the dueling arena without an actual duel are so interesting with the context of it actually being the planetarium in akio's tower.

in episode 9 there's the illusion of the castle falling down and anthy in the coffin when saionji tries to bring her to the arena. so many questions of who did that and why. definitely to mess with saionji in some way obviously, anthy's coffin is the same that he and touga found utena in, and he's been thinking about that moment throughout the episode. touga is the one who wrote him the fake letter from end of the world, but he couldn't have known all that would happen (he certainly couldn't have caused it to) unless he was working with akio. but when he calls him at the end of the episode, it's definitely implied that he didn't. so i think it's more likely that its was anthy who did it, to keep pushing things along. she and touga do kind of work together a lot in this arc to manipulate people (usually nanami, though that isn't really relevant here). touga needed to set up his fake rescue of utena and it makes sense that anthy would help him out by messing with the projector (the fact that utena gets another moment to feel like a hero is a bonus too). which means akio probably did also know, and just pretended he didn't in the phone call with touga later. i also don't think touga knows about the projector or the illusions, i think he just assumed anthy would. idk, pretend to lie helpless on the ground, not all the elaborate bullshit she pulled instead. he does only come up there after the illusion is gone, after all.

the scene in episode 36 is cool because it takes a moment for the floating castle to actually appear, which implies that utena and touga's trip up there was unexpected somehow? the projection isn't on. or not fully on at least, since it still is projecting the arena itself. i wonder what it means (i have thoughts but nothing coherent). it's also kind of funny that touga comes to get utena in the tower and then they walk all the way to the arena which is. also the tower. and they go up there to stargaze! which is ironic. and symbolic. they think they're looking at real stars, but it's still the projected ones. it shows how much touga has bought into akio's worldview, even if he is trying to do what he thinks is right here. and honestly, it is kind of a sweet moment, just not for the reasons he thinks. they're two lonely kids who have been (and are being) hurt by the same man in a very similar way, even if neither of them realize how true that really is. touga is framing his request for them to sit together in a very romantic way, which it obviously isn't, but maybe they can still offer each other some comfort. who knows. it's kind of tragic that it's all happening in akio's tower though. they are not free. not even slightly.

i think the parallel of both of these moments being touga using the arena to stage his "rescueing" of utena, the first one being entirely manipulative, and the second being something of a genuine (if completely misguided) attempt, is very cool.

#i could probably write an actual coherent analysis of these scenes these are just some thoughts i had while rewatching ep 9 #revolutionary girl utena #analysis #utena #touga #anthy #saionji #akio #m

[honeynclove]

twst pokemon teams - diasomnia

Lilia’s Noivern isn’t cropped properly don’t point it out or I might cry… same as ignihyde I can’t form new coherent thoughts so u guys r getting my Pinterest thoughts from when I first made these

lilia vanrouge

thoughts: original idea was fairy/dark types with the exception of the bat pkmn, but sneasler i added bc hisuian pkmn r a few milenia old just like lils <3 and after that i just lost the theming lmao, most of what i picked was based on vibes alone and i think they fit fairly well?

sebek zigvolt

thoughts: ELLLEEETRIC POKEMONNNN. also i think lilia gave him a toxel as a kid ☝️☝️ i made a note to give first years unevolved pkmn EXCEPT for Sebek bc i think hed be training since a kid n Ortho bc hes not human and can get away w it. him n silver’s pkmn playfully fight all the time n sebek gets onto em for it

silver

thoughts: i didnt have a specific typing in mind, my thoughts were just what pre evo pokemon could i see him befriending in the woods as a child and just went with that. Tho, with Corviknight i picked because of the knight theming, and Shiny Sylveon (my fav pkmn!!!) bc it reminded me of Aurora’s dress in Sleeping Beauty, and Galarian Rapidash because Silver’s in the equestrian club (and im saving reg rapidash for another character) I specifically see his sylveon as his ace pkmn and it would be common to see them walking around w the sylveon’s feelers wrapped around his arm in case he falls asleep at a poor time + imagined his whole team snuggling with him if he’d fall asleep in a safe area/guarding him in a less safe one. Idk. Also his team all really likes Lilia and Malleus too <3 Except for his Sylveon Whom Just Glares at the Big dragon Man 😭

malleus draconia

thoughts: dragon types 👍

#silver isn’t my fav character idk why I wrote so much for him on pinterest #Twst #✨!- pkmn x twst #twst x pokemon #twisted wonderland #pokemon #twisted wonderland x pokemon #diasomnia #twst #Lilia vanrouge #silver vanrouge #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #I kinda hate that I didn’t give malleus a legendary tbh

[strwberri-milk]

idk if you’d write for alhaitham but in honor of me only loosing six 50/50s in my quest for c6 r5,, can you perhaps write a dom!reader (gn is preferred) that just takes their time pleasuring him? like a lot of praise and overstim and making him stupid :D if you don’t write for him diluc/kaeya is fine

mayhaps you should pay for my alhaitham funds omg congrats though!!! heres my attempt at alhaitham - a little cocky, overconfident, and not willing to submit even to the bitter end :D

Alhaitham is nothing if he isn't self sufficient. He can take care of himself when needed and has done a lot of work to ensure that he can be independent. That's why he's not going to just give you something that you want that easily. No, you're going to have to work for it.

It's not that he doesn't want to submit, it's that he believes nothing good in life is worth it if you don't work for it. He's not going to make it easy for you either.

He's a busy man and expects nothing less than perfection of himself, which makes it nearly impossible sometimes to align your schedules for long enough for any of the things you want to do for him. That doesn't mean it's impossible though.

You've finally got him where you want him, laying back on the bed and looking up at you with equal parts apprehension and excitement. A bit of a smirk sits on his lips, watching as you kneel between his legs and look back up at him.

"What are you trying to do?" he asks with a slight scoff in his voice, figuring out that this is yet another attempt of yours to try and take him off guard.

"Nothing special," you mutter, glad that his pants were already removed. You press kisses against his thigh, smiling to yourself as you feel his muscles stiffen.

"If you're trying to get me to-"

His words cut off when he feels your breath ghosting over him, biting back his words as his cock twitches. He sits up on his arms, about to try again and you give him a strong lick, taking the moan he gives you as the beginnings of your prize.

Sometimes, it seems like he thinks of himself as better than others. Not in the way he speaks, but in the way he carries himself. You don't know if it's just a result of his confidence, or if it's because he really does think he is better (which you doubt considering that he insists on staying in a more humble position with the Akademiya despite how smart he is). It's fun being able to finally reduce someone like that to a mere man succumbing to pleasure, each whimper and moan that slips past his lips more pleasant than the last.

You decided he wasn't going to be the one pleasuring you today, more focused on trailing your heated fingertips down his body and scratching lightly against his skin with your nails. It seemed that the further you managed to take him from his comfort zone the more receptive he was to your touch, bedsheets perpetually clenched in his hand.

His other hand is buried in your scalp, holding tightly as though for dear life as you mouth over his length. Your tongue laves over him, something about this time feeling so much better than it usually does. His mind is hazy, finally beginning to let go for your ministrations to take over any sort of conscious thought he has.

"Feels good, doesn't it sweetheart?" you purr seductively, relishing the lack of thought behind his eyes.

"Fuck," he manages under his breath, letting go of his inhibitions to moan more freely than he's let himself before.

"i know," you coo, going back down to take him entirely into your mouth again.

He definitely didn't expect to keep cumming over and over for you, struggling to remain coherent. It didn't get any better when you introduced your fingers, not expecting to like the feeling of the intrusion so much.

His thighs close up around your head, squeezing you tight and keeping him between them as he cums again in your mouth. His cum was basically nothing at this point, body so overdone that he didn't even know he had another orgasm in him.

He's almost begging for you to stop, the overstimulation burning in the best way to his body as his back arches into your touch. You don't stop, eyes dark with pleasure and he's sure you've somehow managed to cum untouched thanks to your efforts on his body.

Maybe he'll take his revenge on you some other time, you know, when he has higher thought again.

#genshin impact smut #genshin smut #al haitam x reader #alhaitham smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader