#idk there was supposed to be some concluding thought there

[deeism]

i just remembered that. in "mac kills his dad" dee and dennis try to come up with a reason that life is worth living and neither of them can do it. dee's futile sounding "what makes me happy in life........." as she tries to come to terms with the fact that nothing does. or at least nothing that can be described as either normal or healthy. you can know you're miserable but never really lay it out in front of you

#it's always sunny in philadelphia #dennis reynolds #dee reynolds #mac kills his dad #iasip #i would have included frank in this post but the whole joke is that #he was entirely sincere w bill LOL #in a horrible guy way #like if you asked anyone in the gang what makes them happy #they'd probably say something like getting blackout drunk #but considering bills situation that obviously would not.... fix the problem #dennis and dee don't have anything else to fall back on #their insincerity is proof of their unhappiness #not that they'd necessarily be sincere if they were happy #but they would certainly be different people #frank on the other hand is far from a happy guy but i think he's much closer to bill's place in life #comparatively to the others #they all see the use in drinking themselves to death but frank understands what bill wants out of that #idk there was supposed to be some concluding thought there #and there was not #but that's okay #cw suicide #(in tags)

[queerfanfiction]

Could you write a fluffy smut where reader has mummy issues who cancelled on her for taking her bra shopping and Larissa offered to go with her and helps her pick out the perfect set but then it ends with smut idk you chose :)

Mummy Issues

Prompt is shown above. :)

word count: 3.6k includes: mommy issues, public-ish sex, discussion of trauma, fingering, fluff, mommy kink, praise kink

Your therapist is actually the one who suggested you ask your mom to go shopping with you to find a bra set for an upcoming performance. You’re not saying this specific reparenting technique doesn’t work, but there was no way in hell your mother was going to follow through. Still, you tried anyway. You were vulnerable anyway.

You’re exhausted from parenting your own parent, always considering other’s needs before your own. Fresh out of university and you still have never had anyone else take care of you for a change. The shopping idea was intended to be a low-stakes role reversal where your mom would step up to the task at hand.

Earlier that morning you texted your mom to confirm the meet up in Burlington. You never heard back, which wasn’t uncommon. Since you were coming all the way from Montreal, though, you expected some sort of acknowledgement. You even texted her as you were driving over to no avail. Downtown Burlington was not where you would have picked to shop if your mother was not involved. It was close to where she lived, and she loved the hustle and bustle of Church Street. To you it always seemed like a hot mess. Now you were in the middle of that mess alone.

After waiting in your car for 15 minutes, it doesn’t take a genius to know you got stood up once again. You contemplated just driving back right then and there. This wasn’t exactly something you wanted to do alone, yet none of your friends are in the area any longer. They all had moved away. Overwhelmed by the sheer fuckery of nothing ever working out, you were frustrated and tired. You consider breaking down into tears over the wasted trip and the years of parental neglect represented by this one instance.

The only person who you can think of still in the area is Ms. Weems. You suppose it’s Principal Weems now (thank you social media for that one). Is it weird to invite a former teacher you once had a massive crush on to go shopping? It’s been so long that it would be nice to catch up. You’re not going to lie, you were yearning to see the older woman. Impulsively, you dial the number she gave you for emergencies back when you attended Nevermore. To your surprise, a firm but sweet voice answers—the same voice that you’d fantasize about in your dorm when your roommate was out. You try to control your voice, but too many conflicting emotions make you croak and sniffle a bit when identifying yourself.

“My dear, is everything alright? And, please, it’s Larissa.” A tone of worry was inflected back to you by the other woman.

In an attempt to dodge the question about your wellbeing, you respond, “I’m actually back in Burlington, trying to find an outfit for an upcoming performance. Any chance you’re free?” You tried to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Larissa returned with, “Oh, I don’t wish to intrude, but it was very kind of you to think of me.” Shit, apparently too nonchalant…

You reflect on all the times Larissa had comforted you back at Nevermore. She was protective of all her students, but it truly meant the world to you. You had always thought it was just another day, another student problem for her. There were many times you were neglected or mistreated by your mother that Larissa was privy to back then. Knowing this, as a Hail Mary, you softly let slip out, “I was supposed to meet my mom…”

Without missing a beat, Larissa’s voice turned tight, “Where are you?” You glance at the cross streets, give her your location, and let her know the specific store you’re at. She concludes, “I’ll be there in 20 minutes, love.”

Your heart flutters at the familiar pet name.

—

You’re already occupying the changing room when Larissa arrives. She calls out for you, and you crack open the door to let her into the small fitting area.

You are met with the most comforting hug. Larissa stroked your hair and squeezed you tightly. The last time an embrace has felt so all-encompassing was also from Larissa, which is a bit embarrassing. You guess you just don’t have a lot of good huggers in your life, and it felt so nice to be held close by someone. You breathe out a long sigh, as if all your troubles are muted by the closeness of the woman in front of you. Her scent replaces the air in your lungs, and you consider how nice it would be to never end this embrace.

When she pulls back and sees that your eyes are slightly red and puffy, she bends down towards you to cup your face with both of her hands. All that comes out of her mouth is “Oh, sweetie.” You give her a half-hearted smile in response. Her hands immediately begin stroking your face, brushing hair from your eyes, and occasionally resting her thumb and index finger at your chin. This. This is what being cared for is; the realization hits you and radiates out through your body.

“I’m here for whatever you need. Would you like to debrief about your mother? Or carry on with what’s needed here?” Larissa gestures to the garments in the fitting room without taking her eyes off of you.

Noticing how close she still is to your face makes your head dizzy, and you stutter, “I-I need s-something to wear under a strapless dress that won’t show during a piano performance.”

Reassuringly, Larissa states, “We can do that. You know I have an eye for those sorts of things. We’ll have you sorted in no time.” She then moves her hands to your upper arms and rubs them before turning to examine the items already set out.

“Piano? It’s no wonder. You always played brilliantly at Nevermore,” Larissa continued elatedly, brandishing a supportive smile. You think back to times when you’d be practicing in Nevermore’s music auditorium alone and feel a comforting presence at the back of the concert hall near the doors. You always assumed it was your imagination, not daring to get your hopes up that someone cared enough to support you or cheer you on. Your mother made sure of that…

You feel so much more at ease with Larissa here. Now that you think about it, she has always provided stability and nurtured you. You remember that she would sometimes give you rides to Jericho when the only Nevermore vehicle at the time was in use. You credit a lot of your success with the piano to her too, because she would encourage you to do open mics at the Weathervane and signed you up to play at a parade that Jericho had every couple of years. 

Yes, you felt indebted to the tall, gorgeous woman before you. The years since you’ve seen her have only emphasized her beauty. Her demeanor is both commanding and protective. It’s as if she is more comfortable in her skin than before; there is a sureness in her stance that is nice to see and that you wish you had. Even though you always considered her fashionable, her clothes now exude a kind of pride and carefully crafted style. Larissa’s perfectly-coiffed updo accentuates the smooth, supple skin of her neck before disappearing beneath her expertly tailored dress.

These thoughts invoke a light blush from your cheeks, and you know you can’t speak about your crush on her in the past tense. Your immediate dry mouth while watching her is proof that it never went away. Now you’re wondering if you shouldn’t have sought her out to assist in purchasing the perfect underwear, especially because you see her turn towards the garments and an emotion flashes across her face when she realizes the kinds of items you’ve picked out and need assistance with.

You’ve always liked the idea of dressing up underneath your formal outfit. To you, it made it feel more special, gave you extra confidence. For instance, knowing a sexy lace set was underneath your clothes made you feel as if you had a fun secret. Though, you realize it’s probably inappropriate to expect Larissa to help with this. If she felt uncomfortable, she was hiding it well. You tried to continue on as if everything was normal, even though doing so felt impossible.

When Larissa sits on the small ledge provided in the dressing room, you emphasize, “Thank you again for coming. I just drove from where I am now in Montreal.”

Realizing you should continue trying items on, you reach to unbutton your shirt when you hear, “You poor thing! Have you eaten?”

At this, you scrunch your face and shake off your blouse. “I’ll get something after this.” So many conflicting emotions swirl inside of you. You’re conflicted at whether to relish in the desperately needed maternal care or to shrug it off as a defense mechanism.

You begin to unhook a bra from its hanger and feel like you should ask, “Do you mind?” Larissa interprets that you’d like to change from your bra into the new one, waving her hand dismissively and saying, “Go ahead” in a delicate manner.

Without looking too awkward and challenged, you attempt to put on the new bra while taking  your current bra off in quick succession. It would have worked if the one you were trying on actually fit you. You had a hard time getting it on, and once you did, your breasts spill out of the top half, giving you the illusion of having four boobs. With you panting from the endeavor, you and Larissa begin to laugh at how silly it looks. You’re surprised that you’re not mortified, but instead having fun.

With some of your own tension released, you turn away from Larissa and towards the mirror to decide if you like the bra enough to go up a cup size. As you do this, what you don’t see is Larissa’s curious gaze, as if she is wishing she could reach out and touch the pillowy softness of your breasts.

“So, this one is NOT it.” Your playful declaration pulls Larissa from her lustful thoughts. It’s short-lived, though, since you immediately begin to try on more items. This time you choose a deep maroon matching set, and you turn slightly away from Larissa in order to pull up the bottoms over your current underwear. Because of the limited space in the room, your ass accidentally winds up in Larissa’s face. As if it is all in your head, you pretend the enclosed space is not rife with sexual tension.

“That’s gorgeous,” Larissa coos moments later with her hand reaching out. With both hands, she rubs along the intricate lace detail at your hip bones, and it feels as if your skin is set ablaze. You fight the urge for your breath to turn heavy and wanting.

Even if all of the tension is in your head and one-sided, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ll need to stop trying things on soon. Well, at least stop trying on bottoms, because you can feel yourself getting wet under Larissa’s stares and encouragement.

“That fits you so very well.” “I love this on you.” “It looks absolutely spectacular.” “You look stunning.”

Not to mention Larissa has taken a hands-on approach to her support. After briefly touching your hips, she began dragging her long fingers along bits of your exposed skin when she was discussing an area. There’s no way she doesn’t notice the goosebumps that arise each time her touch lingers. At least being half naked in the chilly changing room is an excuse for the tight buds of your nipples. 

The juxtaposition between this experience and what your mother would have had in store for you is dizzying. No doubt she would have critiqued your strong shoulders or the cellulite on your thighs. It would have ended in a fight, you just know it. However, everything out of Larissa’s mouth was refreshing and electrifying. Maybe even healing at times?

The final set you had picked out was a delicate mesh thong bodysuit that was almost entirely see-through. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should you stop trying things on. Larissa must have noticed, because she uncrossed and crossed her legs a few times before voicing, “Go on, honey.”

Embracing the process sheepishly, you slip into the item and turn away from Larissa to look at yourself. You study the outline of your breasts in the mirror, trying to determine if the subtle texture of the mesh would be noticeable under your dress. Or would the distance between the stage and the seats obscure the texture?

You then see that Larissa seems to be studying them too, except her eyelids are hooded and her pupils are dilated. Almost in slow motion you watch her involuntarily lick her lips. Your heart beats quicker, a flash of heat moves through your body, and you suppress a low moan.

Your eyes meet Larissa’s in the mirror.

You couldn’t say who initiated what next. Only that you were on Larissa’s lap, straddling her, while her hands were on you, roaming over your body and settling on your hips. Your mouths are working in tandem with each other, and you welcome her red lipstick staining your lips and neck. Your hands go to Larissa’s face—one cupping it possessively and the other slinking back to grip the nape of her neck. You want desperately to wreck her perfect hair, turning it into physical evidence of your connection and closeness.

Both you and Larissa can feel the heated energy building between you as you frantically attempt to take off the mesh bodysuit. Before you can, though, Larissa steadies your hands and inquires breathlessly, “Is this okay, darling?” Her eyes search your own, and you can make out desire and worry in her eyes.

You have to take a moment to let what she is asking sink in. This feels like such a natural (if not slightly expedited) progression of your feelings for Larissa. You wonder if there is more underlying her question. You know you two will have to debrief your feelings but right now the hormones raging through your body make it hard to focus too much on the worry or questions around if this should be happening. Instead, your body wiggles on top of hers, begging to continue the friction of your hips against her. You involuntarily whine and nod. “I want this, Larissa.”

Seeing your need and the sureness in your gaze, Larissa regains her composure and utters, “Shh, let me take care of you.”

—

Larissa rivals your intensity with her own fierce need. Her kisses are passionate yet soft. Her hands are gentle but unyielding in how they explore your body once the mesh bodysuit is off. With her every caress and tender nip over your skin, you feel so wholly wanted, cared for, and desired. A fire underlies Larissa’s behavior, as if each touch begets more longing and thirst for you. At the same time, you couldn’t have anticipated the fervent need you had to be validated and devoured by this woman.

Once she has marked your neck with her lipstick and teeth, Larissa moves downward to take one of your fleshy, beaded nipples in her mouth. Barely audible to you, she breathes out, “Absolutely beautiful” before flicking it with her tongue and causing you to arch your back.

One of Larissa’s hands runs over your thighs, teasing you and drawing circles and zigzags on your delicate skin. You can’t help but whimper in need every single time her fingers get closer to where your thighs meet. After almost resigning to her pace and authority, she trails up to cup your arousal. Your legs twitch with the sudden contact, and you emit a gasp.

“You’re so wet for me.” Pleased, Larissa enunciates every word, drawing the words out and reveling in how at her mercy you are. “It’s intoxicating.”

Unable to withstand not taking action, you press your lips against hers roughly, trying to close any distance between your bodies. Breathless after many kisses, you move to suck on her neck and whisper, “Larissa.”

“Please.”

Only after this plea does Larissa finally dip a finger into you. It doesn’t feel like nearly enough. You would usually appreciate a sexual partner pacing themselves, but the need for her to fill you is overpowering. You wriggle your hips back and forth impatiently and breathlessly request, “More.”

Larissa delighted in your clear hunger for her, fully intending to give you everything you want. She eases in another finger past her second knuckle before adding a third finger once she realizes how slick and open you are for her. You unintentionally bite down on her shoulder, not expecting to get what you want without more begging.

 You couldn’t have imagined how good her fingers feel inside you. And you absolutely had imagined it. You remember pretending your fingers were hers after late nights riding back with her from Jericho. Or the time she gave you her coat on a chilly night and forgot to get it back, so you ended up masterbating to her scent surrounding you. Okay, you’re not super proud of that one, but at the time it felt world-changing the desire you had. Her fingers working inside of you now are of a different caliber. In fact, you never understood the metaphor of sex as worship or religion, but being on top of Larissa with her half-lidded eyes roaming your body changes things. You want to make her feel a sliver of how good you do right now.

Your hands begin to grab at the fabric of her top, desperate to remove her clothing and pleasure her as she is inside of you. Larissa lets out a low, throaty chuckle before asserting, “Ah, ah, ah. I want to focus on you, love. Let me please you.”

Her interjection just makes your heart swell more for her, and noticeably your noise level swells, as well. You’re not used to undivided attention and care—someone wanting your happiness above all else. It’s more erotic than you could have ever anticipated. At the increase in breathiness and moans, one of Larissa’s hands clamps over your mouth while the other continues to pump in and out of you. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the reflection in the dressing room mirror of you riding her long fingers completely nude while she is fully clothed. The sight makes your knees weaker, and you groan, “Oh, fuck.”

Larissa’s whispers and affirmations throughout only brought you closer and closer to release. She has to know how her words are affecting you. Her hot breath over and over in your ear, inching you towards the edge.

“I’ve got you, sweetie.” “I’ll give you anything you want.” “Shh, stay quiet for me.” “That’s a good girl.”

You feel yourself tighten around Larissa’s fingers, becoming more breathless and spacey as she presses the pads of her curled fingers inside you toward your pelvic bone, urging you to come undone. So, you do. Your entire body tenses, and you feel as if you will crumble under the anticipation and pressure. Tingles shoot down your arms and legs in waves, threatening overstimulation.

Larissa’s fingers still, and she presses you close to her, clutching you tightly. After a moment of your eyes being closed and your breathing slowly relaxing, Larissa asks you to bear down with your pelvic floor muscles. Confused, you obey. She gingerly removes her fingers from inside you, and your body aches at the loss. She proceeds to lean forward with you still on her lap, wrapping her arms around you and begins to rock you.

“You did so well, my love,” Larissa murmurs while stroking your hair away from your damp forehead. “You were so good for me.”

You can’t remember the last time someone was so attentive and sweet with you after sex—if ever. You also have never felt like an exposed live wire due to euphoria either, so… Her thoughtfulness makes your heart swell, and you’re hoping it’s not just due to the hormones flooding your body right now. As if you can’t contain the disbelief and gratefulness, you blurt in awe, “How are you real?”

Larissa pulls away from the embrace, searching your eyes for understanding. “I ask myself the same question about you.” At that, you rest your forehead against Larissa’s, exhausted and happy.

After sensing your heart rate has stabilized, wanting to make sure you go to the bathroom and hydrate becomes Larissa’s next priority. Her voice breaks the comfortable silence. “Let’s get you some food now. I’m sure you’ve worked up an appetite.”

You two pick up the items in the messy dressing room and sheepishly leave the clothes on the courtesy rack outside. A grin blooms over your features as you think about how being stood up by your mom feels like such a nonissue now. Even the dilemma of what underwear to wear for your upcoming performance seems trivial. Walking out of the store with Larissa’s lipstick all over you, you decide that you won’t wear anything under your dress, especially not if Larissa is in the audience.

—

@sapphicbeloved Remember when you sent this request literal months ago????? Oops. Apologies, and please enjoy!

#I'm so sorry this took MONTHS to finish #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #mommy issues #principal larissa weems #request #requests #gwendoline christie #larissa weems #asks #fanfic #not proofread #will also post to ao3 #sapphicbeloved #fluff #smut #fluffy smut

[blinkyblinding]

I don’t see a lot of Tenya Iida love?? idk we need more of it. Here’s some fluff.

I 100% believe Iida wouldn’t realize someone had a crush on him. Oblivious boy.

It’s not that he looks down on himself, but he has other thing to worry about. Class rep, his brother, living up to his title, etc…

So when one day you magically confess? oh boy does it take him a minute.

You and Iida went to the same middle school. However, you don’t have a rich family. You got in on a scholarship and had a sarcastic attitude. You and him barely interacted back then, often with conversations ending in a sarcastic remark on your part and a scoff of disapproval from him.

Once you met again at U.A. You became closer realizing you had a lot of the same passions and interest. Eventually becoming really close, you hung out everyday with Izuku, Ochaco, and him.

Ochaco knew about your crush on him and decided to do what every antagonizing best friend does. “If you don’t tell him, I will.” oh, and she WOULD.

You decide to fake it until you make it. You can do it. It’s just a crush, right?

You feign confidence right up until the moment you and him are alone. “What did you need to see me about?” He asked, blissfully unaware.

Your heart is pounding, your stomach is cramping, your lungs are contracting.. “I really like you, Iida. I don’t just mean as a friend either! I mean it in a romantic sense… too…” you trail off increasingly more embarrassed. You feel yourself cringe.

he stays silent.

“…if you don’t say anything, ill do unforgivable things”

he blinks himself out of his trance. “I… wasn’t expecting this.”

you wince slightly at his statement. “yeah… me either” you laugh slightly trying to ease the tension.

“May I have time to think about this?” he asked oh so politely. like always, a little prince when he wants to be.

“Yea, of course. Just… don’t avoid me completely, okay?” you confirm with a sad smile. If this was the end of your newly found friendship with him then so be it. you’d just have to find someway to torture Ochako.

It was awkward at first. He would talk to you but only really when other people were around or to fulfill his class rep duties.

Then eventually you guys would talk like normal. It continued on like that for a while. So much so, you almost forgot about the whole confession.

He didn’t.

Poor boy was restless. Running through every scenario. What could have possibly made you feel this way towards him? Why? When?

they all flooded his mind.

He normally frowned upon high school relationships. He considered them distractors. Upon his self reflection, however. He realized he hadn’t ever really found himself in a situation to experience one.

Now every-time he ran into you, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Eventually, you consumed his thoughts entirely. How was he supposed to live like this? He’d catch himself stealing glances at you whenever he could. Immediately scolding himself and then continuing to glance.

It became too much, he eventually found time to talk to you alone.

“So.. about us.” He spoke softly.

“So there’s an us?” you responded jokingly, trying to ease the tension. A trait of yours he found himself charmed by.

“I mean, about our relationship? You do understand what I am trying to say right?” He says struggling to find the words.

“Yes, go on.” you nodded, letting him say his piece.

“I don’t know how long you have felt this way about me… it’s been bothering me. Bothering me so much in fact, I find myself thinking of you all to often. In the most random of times. As if you take up a permanent residence in my thoughts. It’s irritating to say the least. However, because of this I have viewed you in a different light. I believe…” A breathe, to reassure himself.

“I feel the same way about you.” He concluded.

“oh” you said blankly.

“oh?” he asked anxiously. “what does that mean?”

“I.. I really thought you were going to let me down easy”

“did you want me to reject you?”

“Not at all”

“so then… will you let me be your boyfriend?”

“…”

“is this how you felt when i was silent?”

“yes”

“yes? yes you felt this way? or yes to me as your boyfriend?” he asked confused more and more.

“yes” you said with assertion and a smile.

your smile, he thought, was so gentle. he hadn’t seen this before. Actually, maybe he had. He just never looked hard enough. He understood what you meant, without you saying a word.

relief floods over him. “okay” he said calmly as his posture softened.

He was never going to glance at you again. Instead, he decided, when he looked at you, you would be his focal point.

#mha iida #iida tenya #tenya iida #iida x reader #tenya x reader #mha spoilers #mha #mha x reader

[atsvmi]

Isagi’s Interlude

“I wish I wasn’t famous/ I wish I was still in school/ So that I could have you in my dorm room/ I would put it on you crazy” - Cece’s Interlude, Drake

✿ tags: minors dni, 18+ content, pro!Isagi, fem!reader (called good girl, wears a skirt, has cleavage, etc.), established relationship, mention of an age difference (reader is older than Isagi, both are in their 20s), consensual audio recording, role play (university students), switch!Isagi, switch!reader, oral (male receiving), humping, unprotected sex, mentions of virginity but neither is a virgin, purity kink, corruption kink (?), one mention of a spoiler, tbh i think this is pwp but idk

✿ wc: 3.5k

✿ a/n: the time has come that i officially am no longer catfishing as a writing blog🥳 please clap. also, this is my first time writing smut so please be kind<3

“Do you think we’d still date if we knew each other when we were in school?”

Your question is a random but welcomed conversation as you both work to reset your shared kitchen after dinner, you wash as he dries. In the seconds between the next clean dish, he pauses to consider his answer, before choosing to reach for low-hanging fruit.

“Do you mean high school? If so then...I hope not,” he finally answers. He can’t help but laugh as you fling the excess water and soap from your fingers onto him in indignation.

“No, I didn’t mean fucking high school. And quit making me seem like a fucking cradle robber, asshole.” You’ve been together long enough that the four-year age difference between the two of you is little more than a fun fact and a harmless joke at times. He can sense your annoyance is mostly for show but he chooses not to push any further.

“Ok, ok. I’m sorry,” he manages to get out between chuckles, fending himself from the assault of suds. Again he pauses to really think about what could’ve been. What would he have studied? Would he manage to get into a university with a good team? How would you manage to cross paths? He realizes it’s hard to consider anything when he doesn’t know much about your own school experience outside of the anecdotal stories you’ve told him.

“Tell me what you were like in school first.”

You resume washing the dishes, multitasking as you answer him.

“Um…pretty lame honestly. I wrote for the school’s newspaper. I wasn’t super active on campus but that made me get out there more than I would’ve on my own. But I did go to some parties.”

He lets your answer sink in.

“Yeah, I think we would’ve still got along. You don’t sound like you were much different from now so I don’t see why not.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see your lips turn slightly up, pleased with his answer. Cute.

“Do you ever think about your life if things turned out differently? Like if Blue Lock never happened?”

He can’t say he has. Blue Lock changed his life on its head completely, it’s hard to imagine things working out any differently. Tada and the others he went to school with were freshly graduated, at least according to their social media updates, so he supposes he would be too. Yet still, it’s hard to think about something so different than today.

“I dunno. I can’t really picture it. Actually, I don’t even want to. If I didn’t go to Blue Lock then who knows if I’d ever get the chance to play the soccer I want to. I’d probably never get to play professionally either.” He lets his train of thought wander, eventually realizing that without playing professionally, who knows if he’d ever cross paths with you. He buries the thought before it can even fully form and upset himself in the process.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” you conclude as you hand him the final dish. “I’m gonna get ready for bed. Can you just finish up here by sweeping?”

He nods in the affirmative, which you thank with a kiss that just misses his lips before leaving in the direction of the bedroom. Left with only his thoughts he can’t help but think a bit more about what could’ve been.

Obviously, he’d continue playing soccer as long as possible. Sure his high school team wasn’t amazing, but maybe through tryouts he’d end up at a decent enough school. And he’s always liked art class. Maybe he would’ve tried to pursue a fine arts degree? Or physical therapy to help athletes just in case soccer really didn’t pan out. But what then? For someone who’s built an entire soccer career around the ability to visualize a scenario, he really can’t help but to draw a blank.

Distracted by being in his own head, finishing around the kitchen takes longer than usual. When he finally manages to make his way to your shared room, he just manages to hear the sink’s water turn off, a sign that you’re at the tail end of your nightly routine.

He turns down the bed, first removing the many throw pillows you insist are necessary (a mild point of contention in his opinion. After all, what good is a pillow you’re not even allowed to lay on?) and then making himself comfortable using the “sleeping pillows” to prop himself up against the headboard, occupying himself by scrolling on the phone while he waits for you to make your way to bed. Despite it being the off-season he’s scheduled to meet with a trainer to maintain his conditioning so an early night is in order.

The click of the bathroom door opening draws his eyes but more importantly, what you’ve decided to wear to bed has his full attention.

“Baby, you look-” he starts before you cut him off.

“Is this still a good time for the interview?”

“Interview?”

He’s never been so confused in his life. And even worse, he can’t even dedicate half of his mind to start to comprehend what you’re playing at when he’s busy eyeing you from head to toe. The only thing on his mind is the oversized replica of his Bastard München jersey you’ve tied at your waist and the shortest skirt he’s ever seen. If he were to turn you around he’s sure that it’d cover absolutely nothing he’s sure a skirt is meant to. But even more captivating is the pair of thigh highs that indent into your skin the same way his fingers do when he-

“Yes? The post-game interview. I was hoping to get a quote for the paper from the player that scored the winning goal.”

“Uhh…” Is the most intelligent answer he can muster as he watches you climb onto the bed with a pad of paper and pen in hand. The size of the jersey only frames your cleavage as it gapes open thanks to gravity. Eventually, you make yourself comfortable, legs tucked under you and pen poised to take notes of his response.

“Is it ok if I record this,” you ask, sliding your phone on the nightstand, voice recorder rolling once he manages a stiff nod of his head. You continue. “So what were you thinking in that last play? It was pretty amazing if I say so myself.”

“Winning goal?” He should feel embarrassed by the way he can’t pull his eyes from your legs but the slither of skin between where your skirt ends and the socks begin is calling his name. It’s like he’s in high school again the way he can feel the blood rush from his head. Only your groan of annoyance gives him the strength to meet your eyes again.

“Babe, it’s called role play,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe in some ways, it is.

“Right. Role play.” A beat passes. “What exactly are the roles we’re playing?”

The look you give him makes his cock twitch in his pants.

“Obviously, you’re the star of our university’s soccer team and I am the reporter assigned to cover the season. You just scored the championship goal. Aaaand scene,” you drop your pen and paper to clap for extra effect and then grab both again, poised and ready for his answer.

Truthfully, he can hardly keep up with your antics but that’s never stopped him from trying. He’s had enough practice managing eccentric personalities from the cast of characters Blue Lock managed to put together so this is nothing but a cakewalk. The fact he’s in love with you only makes your idiosyncrasies endearing.

“Right.” He clears his throat, buying time. “I try to keep a cool head and focus on the field whenever I’m playing. A championship game doesn’t change that.”

You scratch something down on the notepad before continuing.

“And how do you feel now that you’ve won?”

“It’s a big achievement to win the championship for the school, and even more so to be the one to finish the game. I just hope to do even better next year.”

This time you jot away a bit longer, leaving his attention to wander back to your outfit. He reaches out a hand to appreciate the getup, running his hand up your knee to just under the hem of your skirt.

“Mr. Isagi you seem pretty distracted. Are you sure this is still a good time?”

“Call me Yoichi”. He doesn’t move his hand away when he answers.

Again you put down your props, seemingly for good as they rest next to your phone.

“I suppose this is probably too boring of a celebration for a star player like yourself. I should probably let you go back to the team for a proper congratulations. I’m sure you have quite the fan club waiting for you.”

“I doubt it. I’ve never been that popular.”

With that, you scoot closer, letting your legs fall open so that he can get the slightest glimpse between your legs if your skirt were to ride up even the slightest centimeter.

“That sounds doubtful. Who wouldn’t want a chance with Isagi Yoichi? Ace of the soccer team. Handsome and nice to boot.”

Despite complimenting his personality, your attention is focused on his physique, eyes roaming across his body appreciatively. He doesn’t fail to notice that you linger a second longer where the sheets have started to tent.

“Do you think it’d be ok if I properly congratulated you,” you ask, resting a hand on the sheet, ready to pull it away at a moment’s notice. You both have a healthy sex life, both well accustomed to initiating, but it’s rare for you to be so forward. He might pass out if you wait any longer to touch him.

“Congratulations? What did you have in mind?” Is all he can get out, forcing you to get straight to the point.

“Let me suck your cock. As a congratulations on a job well done.” Your hand cups his length through both the layers of the sheet, his joggers, and underwear, but he swears he could still cum with the slightest amount of friction he’s so wound up.

“Yeah. Yes. Please.” He’s near breathless, he wants you so badly.

Not a second is wasted before you have him bare from the waist down. He completes the look by pulling his shirt over his head, throwing the offending article wherever it chooses to land. All the while, you shimmy yourself down between his legs. Sure he’s the one fully naked but the eroticism of the sight before him already has him on the brink of cumming.

His name emblazoned between your shoulder blades is something he still has yet to learn to be normal about, but more than that, he finds that he was right about your skirt not covering an inch of your backside. However, what he wasn’t expecting was for it to perfectly frame the curve of your ass since you’ve apparently decided to forego underwear.

“Fuck me,” he gets out in only a puff of air.

“In due time, Mr. Yoichi,” is all you offer before kissing the mushroom tip, smearing the precum that’s collected on your lips, and then swallowing all that will comfortably fit in your mouth. It takes all the strength he can muster to not instinctively buck into you but he can’t hide the deep groan that comes out involuntarily as he meets the entrance of your throat.

“Fuck. You’re so good at this. Always so good,” he offers as he bundles your hair into his fist, slowly guiding you up and down his length. The praise leads you to moan around him, getting him even closer to the brink of cumming.

To get a better view he props himself up on one shaky arm, massaging all that he can reach, as you use your other hand to fondle his balls. Mere minutes pass before he starts to feel the familiar pit of pleasure begin to grow in his belly and it takes all his willpower to pull you off of him before he cums from the added stimulation. It’s next to a miracle that he manages to hold off even after he’s pulled you off once he sees the thick strings of saliva that still connect the two of you.

“I wasn’t done yet,” you have the audacity to pout.

“I didn’t want to cum yet,” he answers. Even to his own ears, he sounds debauched.

While still catching his breath he pulls you close, encouraging you to straddle him. You do and let out quiet moans as you rut your bare pussy against his length. Despite being so close to cumming before, he’s happy to let you do as you please. When your legs eventually tire, he switches to using both hands on your waist to manhandle you the way he knows you like.

“Tell me how you feel, sweetheart.” He can’t get enough of your sounds, no matter how small. To see how much of a mess you’re making he flips the front of your skirt, his tip coming in and out of view as he rocks you back and forth.

“So good, Yoichi. Your hands feel so good.”

He knows it’s not enough to get you off, that you need more. Eventually, he stops, pulling you down so that your chests meet. If you really want to role play, he figures he should get into the role he’s been assigned.

“Is there more to my award,” he asks, hands roaming under the jersey and under your skirt. There’s nowhere his hands don’t explore while he waits for your answer.

“W-what more do you want?”

He moves his right hand so that it’s between your bodies, spreading your pussy lips so that he can fully appreciate the wetness that’s accumulated. He uses his full palm to rub your clit while he answers.

“You said you’d fuck me in due time, yeah? Or were you all talk?”

“Um…about that.” Your eyes are fluttering, struggling to stay open and focus on his words. He feels like he’s on top of the world seeing how he can ruin you. “I have to t-tell you something.”

“I’m listening baby.” His voice is muffled as he leaves kisses across your neck and cheeks. Anywhere he can reach while you still use him to get off.

“I’ve never done this before.” Your eyes meet.

The proverbial record scratches and again he’s confused.

“What do you mean, you’ve never done this before?” Sure you both have busy schedules but there’s no way this is new to either of you. As a matter of fact, it couldn’t be more than a week since he had you in this exact position-

“I was a virgin when I got to college,” you whisper directly in his ear.

Again you have the upper hand as it feels like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice. The feeling only lasts a second though before it feels like every nerve lights up once he connects that this is still a part of the scene you’ve conjured. Oh.

The idea of you as a virgin has never crossed his mind once until this very moment. Given the age you were when you met, he had no reason to give it consideration. It’s not like he was even a virgin when you met. He makes a mental note to do some soul-searching later to find out why he’s rock hard and nearly brought back to the brink of cumming at the mere idea.

“Do…do you want to keep going?”

You laugh. A full out belly laugh.

“Yoichi, you're so cute. Only you would still be so considerate even in a fantasy.”

If all the blood in his body wasn’t occupied he’d probably blush at your teasing.

“I fucking love you,” you emphasize with a kiss. “Yes, I want to continue.”

Not another word is needed before he’s fully plunged back into the world you’ve created. No, he's never thought about you as a virgin but now that the seed has been planted he’s going to absolutely ruin you.

Within a breath, he’s switched your positions, now with you on your back and him pulling your legs onto his lap as he sits above you.

“Tell me if anything is too much, ok?” He preambles before he sucks both his ring and middle fingers, slowly pushing in one finger, then the other when he deems you ready.

Now that you’re fully on display for him he can’t help but stare. Again, the skirt hides absolutely nothing but he does push the jersey so that your tits are on display for him as well. Seeing you dressed but so exposed has his head swimming.

“You’re so pretty. Prettiest thing I’ve seen on campus.” If he’s going to play along, then he might as well go all out.

He bends at the waist to take in one tit, using his tongue to lick at and bite your nipple, before turning his attention to the other all the while he doesn’t stop pumping his fingers into you.

“Yoichi, please. I need you,” you whine.

He takes pity on you and moves from your chest and back up to your lips, kissing you deeply. God, he’s so in love with you.

“I’m sorry, baby. I just wanted to make sure you were good and ready. I want to make sure I don’t hurt you.”

“I promise I’m ready.”

“Ok, ok. I hear you. But can you do me a favor and clean my fingers for me?”

As soon as his request hits his ears your mouth falls open in a way that can only be described as obedient. He lets you suck at both his fingers until he removes them himself, the way your tongue slips between them turning him on all the more.

“So good for me. I really am a lucky guy, huh?” He watches you preen under his praise as he reaches next to your head for an extra pillow, lifting your hips to situate it underneath you.

“Ok, if you need me to stop just tell me, ok? For any reason.” You nod your head yes.

“Need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, Yoichi. I promise.”

“That’s my good girl.”

He locks his hand in yours before he finally presses into you, both of you moaning as he works his hips into you. It’s a fantasy, sure, but he’s as mindful as he can be to be slow and let you get accustomed to him, even if it’s far from your first times, or even 48 hours since he last fucked you.

He’s captivated by the way your mouth falls open as he fucks into you. It’s familiar but entrances him every time. When you give the go ahead he increases his pace, working at that spot he knows gets you there the fastest.

“More, need more,” and he knows exactly what you need, licking his thumb before rubbing against your clit in tight circles. It’s only through time and experience that he knows exactly how to work your body, confirmed by the way you babble his name as if it’s the only word you know.

“You’re taking me so well. Feel so good, so tight. Can feel you squeezing me. You gonna cum for me?”

“Yeah. Gonna cum for you. So fucking close.” You’re wrecked.

“I know, baby. Tell me what you need.”

“Kiss me.”

Your wish is his command, him meeting your waiting mouth. It’s barely a kiss as you can hardly meet his mouth between your moans but he swallows them all dutifully. It’s when your back arches and you fall near silent beside one final cry of his name does he know that you’re cumming. He pulls away to watch you fall apart.

“That’s my girl. So beautiful. Let it out for me.” The vice around his cock makes it difficult to fuck you through your orgasm but he powers through. Only once you relax does he rut into you a few more times before he loses himself, filling you as deeply as he can manage.

It’s silent once he collapses next to you, both catching your breath. When he catches his breath before you he departs with a peck to your lips before he leaves for the bathroom, returning with a damp rag.

“If that’s what I missed out on then I wouldn’t have minded going to school,” he breaks the reverie, cleaning between your legs before his cum has a chance to cool and become uncomfortable.

“Well, I’m glad everything worked out the way it did. Now I can have you all to myself,” you smile at him. He thinks his heart might burst.

“Yeah…that’s true too. Maybe everything worked out the way it did so that we could meet each other?”

“God, you're so sappy. Gross.” You both know you don’t mean it.

“Yeah, yeah. I love you too.” He once again bends at the waist to meet your lips. Gross or not he’s glad things aligned to this very moment.

You meet him halfway, sitting up on one arm to brush away his damp bangs. When you pull away you meet his gaze.

“I really, really do fucking love you, Yoichi”.

Yeah, he’s sure he’d meet you in every universe.

#isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi smut #isagi yoichi smut #blue lock x reader #bluelock x reader #blue lock smut #bluelock smut #i’m going to walk away from this site for 48 hours out of shame #(me lying)

[seelestia]

we missed you, welcome back!

i had a thought for a few days now and then i saw that you were back and i just had to share this

so imagine that you wake up in teyvat one day and you speak a different language bc they probably don’t speak english in teyvat, and no one understands you, but then there’s the smart haravatat ppl like alhaitham and faruzan (idk if there is anyone else) who use their smart language brains to figure out how to talk to you, i think that would be super cute

.💭

BRAINROT ANON— my comrade on tumblr, i missed you too!! i'm so honored that you thought of me aww :') you knew i'd be glad to brainrot with you anytime!! /gen. i focused less on how they communicate with you, but rather more on the events surrounding this concept. hope ya don't mind! so good to see you again <3

extra note: this was written from a platonic pov! yk those movies where a protagonist helps out their 'otherworldly' companion to go back to their home world? yeah, that's what i'm going for here. movies like 'home' and 'cj7' came to mind immediately. that's us and faruzan!! oh, and alhaitham is here too, i guess. /j

-

imagine waking up one day to find yourself transported to the middle of the hypostyle desert. the sun burns, scorching hot on your skin then suddenly, it's gone? oh no, some strange turquoise lady is peering at your face with disapproval. you suspect she thinks you're a reckless traveler who forgot to bring ample supplies to a place like this. “███ ███ ████ ███?” she says and you realize you don't understand a word.

[translation: did your water storage run out?]

imagine the confusion on faruzan's face when you mumble a few sentences? noises? grumbles? she specializes in semiotics (and ruins), not speech pathology so how is she supposed to know? anyway, she graciously takes you in! and brings you back to her residence. yes, yes, how generous, applaud her later but she cannot hand you over to the akademiya just yet. (who knows what they'll do with you? you're obviously not of this world.)

imagine trying to communicate with faruzan using other means besides language. one of them includes pointing at the fresh apple slices on her kitchen counter. she gives them to you and notes how you say 'tenk yu' (?) which she takes as a sign of gratitude. of course, she also jots it down in her notes alongside her observations. how interesting.

and she manages the grand feat of roping alhaitham in, somehow someway. he's a youngster (everyone is a youngster if you're one hundred years old at this point) far too solitary for her liking — plus, notoriously hard to convince but that helps: he's someone who won't tattle! that's her logic here. she even had to invite him over for dinner and introduce him to you herself! ugh, she really had no more funds left to spare... so this better works.

it did, oddly. alhaitham's first instinct is to question and his deductions conclude that you are far too genuine (for lack of a better word) for all of this to be a ruse. the way you pointed at his fit and gave him a thumbs-up he assumed that you meant to say you thought it's “cool”.

alhaitham observes you; when you speak, none of the words sound familiar to his experienced ears and trust him, his quota of languages exceed many. he is not here to brag, so don't twist it. nor do you seem to understand anything whenever he or faruzan speaks. you don't even react in the slightest when he mentions or addresses you directly, only a tap on the shoulder works. it's safe to assume you do not know teyvatian language.

the guy in gray green turns to madam faru with a hum. she taught you to refer to her that way. it took hard work and lots of apple slices. “██... ██ ███ ████ █ ████?” he asks.

[translation: so... do you have a plan?]

“██ ███ █████!” she puffs out her chest in determination.

[translation: in due time!]

he sighs.

you blink, eternally confused.

#i'm a sucker for found family trope AGHHH!!! #genshin impact hcs #genshin imagines #genshin sagau #kinda? i'm not sure how to tag this help #jumbled rambles! 🪶 #<- new & more self-explanatory tag to replace the old one #visitor: dearest brainrot anon! 💭

[lizthewriter]

as the banks begin to break / sirius black

PAIRING  adult!sirius black x forensic analyst!reader

SUMMARY  you run the blood analysis for another mystery body - perfectly healthy, no suggestion of how the person died. it was frustrating going back to your boss with nothing. another mystery. and then, you're much too fed up with the feds taking away your stiffs. you take it upon yourself to investigate the mystery of this body further.

"magic can't be real, it's just not physically possible! there are rules and -"

sirius stared up at you from the ground. you stared down at him. though, instead of a human standing there, it was a dog.

"what the fuck."

TAGS  adult!sirius black x forensic analyst!reader, mystery fic???, (3) question marks, idk i thought the concept for this was cool and wrote it because why not, intrigue, reader obviously DOES NOT believe in magic, harry potter and the deathly hallows

QUOTE  "too tempting not to touch, / but even though it shocked you, / something's electric in your blood," - various storms and saints by florence + the machine

WORD COUNT 3.6K

WRITTEN  1.6.2024

you -

hey, boss wants you to run blood analysis on this john doe we got earlier today. ran his fingerprints through the system, but we came up with nothing. he doesn't expect for you to get a hit, but he wants you to try anyways. i faxed you the preliminary report. send boss your results asap. see you tommorow!

you listened back to the message on your machine before getting to analyzing the blood sample left on your desk. your dear friend and the medical examiner on your team, james, had examined another one of those odd stiffs this morning. dead, but for some reason, no one could figure out how. there had been dozens, if not more than a hundred, in the past two years like this one. more on record in the last century, but the precinct hasn't seen numbers like these since world war two.

this paticular victim was different than the others, however. all other bodies had been identifiable - meaning the police was able to figure out who had died and notify next of kin. this one wasn't - no form of i.d, no money (other than some odd gold and silver coins, most likely worthless), no fingerprints in their databases. you probably wouldn't get a hit on the dna, but you could try.

there was another reason this john doe was fascinating. despite the fact that it seemed like he fell off a building, the preliminary report showed that he recieved the injury post-mortem. james' examination of the body concluded that he must have fallen more than forty stories, but the buildings nearby were less than five stories.

dead bodies don't just fall out of the sky.

you ran the dna profile you had through the national dna database - and surprisingly, you had a pop-up on your screen.

paternal match - scott constance moody

"born august 17, 1912, relations, history, blah blah blah, arrested for public drunkness and indecency on multiple occasions . . . last known address."

the door to your lab slammed open - in anticipation, you immediately closed the file and turned off your computer.

"have any evidence for us this time?" at this point it had become routine. thompson from "mi5" would whisk away the bodies, claiming something ridiculous like "drug deal gone wrong" or "national security risk," looking and acting very much like someone working for a secret government agency trying to hush-hush a deeper plot afoot.

"nope," you responded with an attempt at a solemn expression. "unfortunately, the blood analysis was a dead end. he's just some guy, i suppose."

"we appreciate your discretion," he responded, shaking your hand firmly. you mean you appreciate me not complaining to the other guys at the precinct. certainly is suspicious that an odd-looking fed comes taking dead bodies as much as he does. even if you were to raise suspicions, who would believe you? you were a female nerd practically living in a back closet while the big, strong men handled the real world. he left with nothing else to say.

you turned your computer back on and opened the file again. you scribbled down the address and just as you were about to leave, you looked back down at the dna profile for doe and found something g peculiar. an odd gene marker you had only ever seen a few times before - including your own blood. you drew the profile closer to you, staring down at it. you had never been able to figure out what it was. six years of higher education had taught you nothing and the fancy, hot-shot professors you had take a look couldn't even understand what they were looking at.

what is up with this guy?

-

you knocked on the front door to an old house, out in the country. pastures of green painted in the skyline, cows and barns littering the landscape beyond it. beautiful, quiet, humble. a very fitting place for an eighty-four year old man.

you saw someone glance through curtains in a window. they disappeared soon after and didn't answer the door. you knocked again and pulled out your police badge. "scott moody? london police, i need to speak with you." you hoped your tone seemed formidable enough. you weren't a cop, you were a forensic scientist, but you needed to speak with him. you needed to understand these dead bodies and the only way to do that was to investigate this moody guy.

finally, the door swung open, and a rather gruff and grumpy man answered. "will you stop that racket? what the hell do you want, girlie?"

you drew in a breath. what should you tell him? you didn't want to lie - that felt cruel. but at the same time, you could suddenly understand why your colleagues seemed so drained after sharing the terrible news to family members. the pressure weighing your stomach was sickening.

"i'd like to ask you some questions about your son, mr. moody. do you mind if i come in?"

"yes, i very much do mind! what's someone like youse interest in my alastor?"

"alastor . . . sir, i'm very sorry to tell you this, but . . . well -"

"out with it, girl!"

"your son died. approximately at twelve forty-five last night. the circumstances of his death are rather . . . under investigation. i just need to gather more information, to find out who killed him."

the man looked genuinely concerned (which suprised you slightly, considering how rude he was) and took a shocked step back. he glanced back inside his own house and then at you. "there's nothing you can do," he said weakly, then shutting the door in your face. you shouted for the man, pounding on his door, but got no response. in a huff, you stormed back to your car and slumped in the driver's seat. you ran a hand down your face - how could you ever think that you could be an investigator? you? you laughed at yourself - so full of yourself, you were neck deep in your own shit. never were you to pull a stunt like this again, not if you wanted to get fired.

as you started the car and swung your gaze around to back out of the driveway, you caught the man sitting out the side window, tying a note to a - was that an owl?

perhaps he was sending a message to someone - through an owl, like a homing pigeon. you had only one instinct.

follow the owl.

-

driving through the chaos known as the london streets while chasing a bird was a nightmare, but somehow you managed. here you stood, looking out upon a charming old row of houses. the bird had flew to one in the middle, the exterior bricks blackened compared to the crisp pastel orange of the other houses. someone opened the window, letting the owl in, and then closed the window.

you decided to sit there and wait. wait and wait and wait. for what, you didn't know. for the owl to come back out? for you to build up the guts to knock on the front door with very many questions? no, that was a bad idea. who knows who is in that house, what they're doing. so you waited for someone to come out and luckily, they did. a man with long, black hair strutted elegantly down the steps to the front door and down the road. you got out of your car and decided to follow him.

you don't know what had gotten into you recently. the million questions swirling through your head had apparently begged enough to be answered that you just had to oblige, no matter the consequences. the man was dressed rather odd, you noticed. a grape-colored velvet suit with tailcoats, a mustache like your grandfather had worn. he dressed like a man out of time.

when he stopped walking, you stopped. when he started again, you were right on his ass (well, feet away, but still). he took a laise through a farmer's market, glancing around himself a few times before leaving without buying a single thing. he walked down the road and turned into an alleyway. naive as you were, you followed him and found the alleyway empty. only trash littered the ground.

stepping forward, you peeked behind dumpsters and other barriers of the sort. deciding that he must have disappeared somehow, you turned around with a sigh . . . only to be shoved up against the wall by the very man you had been following.

you had two first impressions of the man. the first was that, now that you could observe him up close, you noticed that he was devilishly handsome. the second was that he had a stick pointed at your throat and seemed rather impressed with himself for it.

"you have about ten seconds to explain why you're following me, hm?" his hands were gripped around the fabric of your collar shirt, bunching up the neatly ironed cotton. so much for looking polished. "who are you? fudge's minon? death eater?"

"i'm a member of the police - if you'd only give me a moment to show you my badge -"

"not a chance," he responded, pressing the stixk further into your neck. really, is that supposed to intimidate me? you thought in annoyance. "who are you really?"

"i'm telling the truth."

"how did you find me?"

"i followed you from that house on grimmauld place."

"how do you know about that?"

"following the homing pigeon - well, owl - that scott moody sent."

not only did he seem cautious, but nervous now. "did dumbledore send you?" he asked dubiously.

"i honestly have no idea who that is." memorable name like that, you'd definitely remember him. no, he seemed to be quite odd to you.

"why were you following me?"

you sighed. "i'm invesitgating the death of alastor moody."

although a sadness washed over the man's face, there was something behind his expression that said he already knew. he placed the stick back into the inner pocket of his coat. "you said you were police?" you nodded.

"so you're a muggle," he mumbled. was muggle some new slang term for cop? you didn't know and even more, you didn't care. then, a realization spread over his face.

sirius -

it shouldn't be possible - if you were a muggle, how could you see grimmauld place? because of the many peotective enchantments and ancient runes safeguarding the black house, only those who were wizards should be able to see it. yet, you had watched him walk right out the front door.

"you - you're looking into moody death?" he asked. he supposed it made sense. no one knew during the battle where they fighting high in the air - it was the heat of the moment after all. it only makes sense that muggle police got to his body first. still, he couldn't understand how you could have seen the house of black.

"his case is part of an ungoing investigation into the dozens of deaths of citizens across greater britain in the past two years." ah. so the muggles were catching on to voldemort's dirty work.

"let me guess. they were all perfectly healthy, showed no signs of deah whatsoever?" he asked. of course the muggles were going insane about it. people dying left and right without them even knowing what, or who, was causing it.

"yes, how did you -"

"just a hunch," he shrugged in response to your shocked expression.

"if you know something, you must tell me," you said rather firmly, though it seemed you were under the delusion that you had any sort of authority over him. your tone was not as strong as you may have liked.

"i'm afraid i cannot -"

"cannot what?" you barked back - now that had some bite. his interest was peaked now - what had your wand in a knot? "there are people dying. these dead bodies keep showing up with no sign as to how they died. moody aparently just fell from the sky! dead bodies don't just fall from the sky," you told him with an incredulous laugh. "now you are going to tell me everything you know about these bodies, or i swear on the bloody royal throne itself that i'll - i'll - get it out of you!"

you -

"you cannot just bring some muggle girl - if she really is a muggle - into our headquarters! are you barking mad? and don't you dare make another one of your mutt jokes or on merlin's grave i will -"

"that's quite enough, andromeda," responded a rather polite and calming male voice. there was a murmur and the same man let out a sigh. "at least let the man speak first."

"fine!"

"she saw grimmauld place, she knows about moody! she didn't bloody well seem like one of voldemort's spies, she didn't even know what 'death eater' meant. besides, what was i supposed to do? let her go blabbering to other muggles about this?"

"you could obliviate her."

"i would, if i had ever learned how. besides, it's not ethical, taking away someone's memories like that."

"this is war, black - desperate times call for desperate measures."

"now why don't you get back to shoving your greasy nose down some potions notes, snivellus, and let us grown-ups -"

"you arrogant -"

there was a sudden clammer of noise, the sound of several falling to the ground and pots and pans banging all over the place. a loud thwip! and sudden silence. "stop it! the both of you! has anyone actually bothered to question her?"

there was another round of silence before the door in front of you creaked open. the man who had pinned you up in the alley, black he had been called, looked rather dismal as he invited you into the room.

after your little speech, he requested you joined him in his house. well, you were not expecting the dustiest, blackest house you had ever seen. the entry hall was so thin, you could practically feel the walls caressing your arms. you waited in the entrance hall, outside the door to the kitchen, while he talked with his . . . friends? their conversation was all very confusing, talks of war and the like. were they also part of some secret agency? you weren't sure so you remained cautious.

"hello," you said to all those in the room, your voice trembling nervously. there were six others littered across the room. a rather dreadful looking man in the corner, with a hooked nose. he looked at you with distaste. black stood at the end of the table, his palms planted onto the table. another woman with hair almost as black as the walls, who sighed at your entrance. another man, scars barraging his face, with rather kind eyes. a man with umber skin, dressed in deep blue robes decorated with silver. and finally, a redhaired woman with a rag thrown over her shoulder, a knife in hand as she stood near a cutting board.

"hello," said the scarred-man, a warm smile making your shoulders sag a bit in . . . relief? comfort? "do you mind introducing yourself?"

you revealed your badge to all and recitind your name. "i'm a forensic analyst for the london police," you recited for the third time that day. "earlier this morning, the body of alastor moody was discovered. aside from the head injury he sustained from - well, we're not exactly sure - he seemed perfectly healthy. our medical examiner has concluded that he sustained the injury after his death. as of this morning, his body was taken by an operative of a secret government agency. there have been dozens of other bodies like this over the past couple of years. i've taken it upon myself to investigate this . . . occurence. this morning i tracked down moody's father, who sent a courier - owl - here."

"and is that everything?" black asked with an arched brow, as though he thought you were hiding something. which, ot be fair, you kind of were, but it was a small, unimportant detail and rather ridiculous really. just an irrational price of science that most likely had no relevance to the murders or perhaps a suggestion towards a broken coder in your lab - "well is it?"

you hesitated to answer but felt rather intimidated by the people surrounding you. perhaps sharing everything would be ideal, even if they thought you were barking mad. "well, erm - there's this one thing. do you know what dna is, mr. black?"

black shook his head and the others looked rather confused.

"i do," the scarred man spoke. "remus. a pleasure."

you gave him a polite nod in response. "a blood sample is taken from every body that goes through the police, and we run it through our systems and upload it to a database. moody had a gene marker in his dna - an odd one. one that shouldn't be there."

remus tilted his head, indulging you. "i've had old professors look at his results, even after I reran them. they thought something was wrong with the data. that i should run it again. but i know it wasn't wrong . . . i have the same gene marker in my dna. i'm not mad. it means something. even if others can't see it."

remus looked puzzled for a moment, but as a hazy look crossed his eyes, you could see his demeanor change rather swiftly. he straightened up, and glanced towards sirius with his mouth agape.

"what is it remus?" sirius asked with concern.

"i think that she's found a muggle's way . . . to prove the existence of magic."

sirius -

no. it couldn't be possible. it simply wasn't. if remus was right, if what he said was true, not only did this mean there were rather heinous repercussions for the wozarding world, but . . . you would be in danger.

suddenly, snape stood up from his chair rather suddenly, his eyes latched onto you. his hands still wrapped around the arms of the chairs, gripping them so tightly his knuckles were white. "everyone except sirius and the girl . . . out. now!"

the others were reluctant to leave the room, but they all filed out eventually. dumbledore trusted snape, even ordered snape to kill him, so they all would have to trust snape . . . even if sirius didn't want to.

snale turned his poisonous gaze on you. "sit down."

you followed his instructions, though cautiously, and took the closest seat next to sirius. sirius hoped that implied there was some level of trust between you two, seeing as you'll need it since he couldn't let you leave grimmauld place. "while it seems you haven't been filled in, i find that i cano that rather quickly for you. magic is real and a select number of individuals can possess it - you must be among those people, seeing as only those who are magical can see this house. there has been a wizarding war for over the past three decades, lead by a man named voldemort. the goal of him and his death eaters are to kill or otherwise enslave all those who are non-magical, also known as muggles. do you understand?"

you seemed to be flabbergasted by the assault of information and it's implications, and though you were slow to believe, you simply nodded your head. sirius placed his hand on the back of your chair, protectively, almost territorially.

"snape -"

"do shut your mouth black," snape spat. "a seer, or a prophet as muggles might know them, made a prophecy not long ago. the chosen one becomes the chosen two when eighth month approaches. for someone undesireable as any, she will be hunted down like the dog. she has discovered something no muggle should know. the power to vanquish the dark lord rests in the hand of fate - and should that hand choose to vanquish her, all hope of defeating the dark lord is lost."

"snape, what in the devil's name -"

"do not interrupt me, you -"

"no!" sirius exclaimed, slamming the goblet he was holding down on the table. wine spilled out from the cup, dripping down the rusted golden edge. "that is quite enough. i'm sure our guest has gone through enough the past day. she is famished and tired. let her rest and perhaps then we can discuss whatever nonsense you're blabbering on about."

sirius turned towards you with a softer expression and gestured for you to follow him out. you glanced back at snape, he noticed, if just for a moment. but soon enough, the two of you were in the foyer sitting across from each other.

your head was buried between the palms of your hand - it was obvious that you were distressed. "are you all right?" sirius asked softly.

"all right?" you asked, glancing up at him, your tone incredulous. "all right? no, no, i am just fine. you know, I just found out magic is real and there's some wizard war going on that no one knows about. yeah, this isn't news to me at all! you know, i get to work flying around on my little witch broom like everyone else! no i'm not all right!"

"we actually do use brooms as a model of transportation, that's not a myth," sirius told you, rather factually. you didn't seem very amused by his short educational bit. "look, i know this is overwhelming -"

"why should I even believe you?" you asked, tone rising in volume, though more out of worry than anger. "i mean something inexplicable could explain moody's death, but magic? magic can't be real, it's just not physically possible! there are rules and -"

sirius stared up at you from the ground. you stared down at him. though, instead of a human standing there, it was a dog.

"what the fuck."

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #my writing #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my fic #writing #fanfic #harry potter #— [ glizzy posts ☆ ]

[robinsno1lesbian]

The way i want neighbor!robin to sneak through my window in the morning and wake me up with her tongue in between my thighs is a problem at this point (bonus points if reader was moaning her name when she came in through the window✨✨) -🍓

older!neighbor!robin x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1415

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ mature content (MDNI), implied age gap (reader is 18+!!), oral (fem! receiving obviously), established cnc, a bit of fluff too? i guess?, did not proofread AT ALL + wrote it in a rush (let me know if i missed anything :))

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: second drabble today- i hope this gets close to what you've imagined! also this turned out kinda soft-ish?! idk how that happened but i hope you don't mind lmao

she knows she should stay away. she has to stay away. the little situationship the two of you have started is growing into something much bigger; stolen glances across the fence, sneaking around each other's houses at night, muffled moans and stolen kisses... it wasn't supposed to go this far. she wasn't supposed to feel this way. and yet here she is, sitting on her bed in the early morning hours, wishing you were here.

robin feels like a damn child and she wants to hate herself for that; for her stupid little longings. she doesn't though. and that makes it all even worse. she groans and grabs a pillow to put over her face in frustration. why did you have to look so damn good in that summer dress the first time she laid her eyes on you? why did you have to smile so sweetly when she caught your eye? why did you take her hand in yours and caressed her knuckles when no one was looking?

even with her eyes shut underneath the fabric of the pillow, images of you are vividly playing behind her eyelids. your scent, your eyes, your hair, the way you taste on her tongue... none of it fades... "god, fuck" robin gets up, and throws on a pair of wide jeans and a top before running down the stairs and right out of the front door. the sun hasn't fully risen yet but offers enough light for her to see perfectly fine.

and even if it wasn't, robin has done this enough times to find her way into your room blind. she swings over your fence swiftly before making her way around the house to the backside, where she can climb up to the window of your room. it is an easy doing really, as if some higher power wanted it this way. she chuckles at the absurdity of that thought while she pushes herself up. what kind of higher power would want this...? would want her to climb through the window of her neighbor to watch her sleep? because that's what she's here for. just to catch a glimpse of your face while you're sleeping. nothing else. robin is delighted to see that you have left your window open and climbs through it quietly. her feet meet the wooden floor with a thud and just like that, she's inside.

she looks through the room to find that you're still asleep, unbothered by the noise of her entering. and yet, there's a strange noise coming from you. robin narrows her eyes and steps closer, careful to avoid any further sounds. she's right; your lips are parted slightly and your breath is quicker than usual. you must be dreaming, she concludes with a grin. dreaming of something really good, judging by the way your hips are rutting ever so shily. the idea of just watching you sleep is thrown out of the window when a soft "yes robin" leaves your mouth. robin sits down on the edge of your bed with a grin. she puts a hand to your thigh, your blanket thrown aside by your movement, and strokes upward slowly. goosebumps rise under the touch and she smiles. as it seems, an imaginary robin is making you feel those things in your dreams. and while she is happy to see that you're hers even when you're dreaming, robin knows she could make you feel much better than this unreal version of her. she hooks her fingers in the hemline of your shorts. you are spread out on your back and it is easy for her to slip them down and off your body. she throws them over her shoulder carelessly before allowing her gaze to wander over your bare lower half. robin hums when she sees the arousal that has pooled between your legs. she licks her lips and bends your legs at the knees, her palms on the back of your thighs to keep them spread open for her. you're still asleep but your hips are grinding down at a more rapid pace now, chasing whatever your dream-robin is giving you. she holds your legs up and starts kissing your inner thighs, earning a gasp from you. robin makes sure to suck some of the skin into her mouth to leave light marks all over you, before her nose nudges your center. she can scent your arousal, which is sending a wave of heat straight down to her own lower abdomen. she has gotten you this turned on, without even being here herself. the fantasy, the mere thought of her, gets you like this.

without any further undo, she puts her tongue down to your dripping entrance and licks a long stripe through you.

the moan this draws from you causes robin's head to spin. she places a kiss to your clit before her lips wrap around it and she sucks the bundle of nerves into her mouth. she is coaxing sweet noises out of you with each suck of her lips and she can feel the arousal growing against her chin. once she has given your clit the proper attention, her mouth moves lower again, her kisses lingering over your entrance for a moment before she sticks her tongue out. all softness is gone at the very first taste of you. robin moans louder than she should, her eyes rolling back when your arousal coats her tongue. she watches your face and how your eyes move under their lids. she wonders what imaginary-robin is doing to you and if her tongue is adding the desired effect to it. "you taste so good, fuck" she whispers. one of your legs is thrown over her shoulder so that your cunt is on full display for her. robin can't help herself but grind down into the mattress for some kind of friction against her own center. suddenly, she feels your hands in her hair, brushing through the blonde strands before pulling you closer. "robin...?" your sleepy voice sounds. your eyes are still closed as if you aren't sure whether this is really happening or not. "yeah..." robin replies softly. "don't worry sweet girl, let me take care of you..." you hum in response and nod your head. "please" she picks up her pace immediately, her tongue fucking into you and your hands tightening in her hair. "robin- oh- oh god-" you can hardly believe that you're waking up to the magic that is robin's mouth between your thighs. and yet here you are. her tongue is urging you closer and closer to your release. you must've been close in your sleep already, otherwise your orgasm wouldn't start coiling in your body just yet. "robin fuck" you mumble, finally opening your eyes to see her. her hair is a beautiful mess and your wetness is smeared all across her chin. you can see her own hips grinding down and hear the way she is moaning softly against your pussy. the image is enough for the knot in your body to snap. you cry out and your back arches off the mattress when your release ripples through you. robin helps you through it, licking each and every drop of arousal you're giving her. you cover your mouth with your hand, absentmindedly realizing that you're still in your parents' house and they could still very much hear you. eventually, you pull her head from your cunt and give it another tug, signalizing her that you want her close. she crawls up your body until her head lingers over yours. "good morning" she whispers. "'morning" you mumble sleepily. robin leans down and kisses your lips softly. so softly that you can't help yourself but pull her all the way down on top of you, both of your hands wrapping around your neck. you can still taste your own release on her tongue when it slips past your lips. eventually, your mouths part and you lean back to get a good look at her. your thumbs stroke over her cheeks as you give her a smile. "what time is it?" "still early" she whispers back. "i just- missed you...i guess?" "oh yeah-?" you chuckle. "yeah" she nods and pecks your lips again. "couldn't stop thinking about you..."

"well...me neither...and, mind you, i was asleep" "lucky you that i came here at the right time" robin leans closer and starts kissing down your neck. you can't help yourself but laugh at the tickling sensation and throw the blanket over both of your bodies, excited to see where this might go...

#robinsno1lesbian drabbles #robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley x fem!reader smut #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley smut #older!robin buckley #older!neighbor!robin buckley #older!neighbor!robin x reader #neighbor!robin x reader

[spinjitsuburst]

Hi sorry for invadinf your asks but I saw your rb on of one my posts and I agree wholeheartedly

I thought this too when I first watched prime empire

NO DON'T APOLOGIZE AT ALL I LOVE TALKING ABOUT PRIME EMPIRE GHSDKFHJGKFHKJ

the post in question

i feel like people have forgotten that not EVERY part of a show has to add to some grand plot. you need character driven episodes and arcs to show how characters have grown within the narrative, and prime empire is a prime (hehehgkjdfshkgj) example of that. and i think it was intentional too - there's so much in prime empire that references or alludes to skybound

Clutch Powers finding Nadakhan's teapot at the very beginning and USING it (it was seen for a split second in season 11 but not enough to be noticeable if you aren't paying attention)

Jay once again ending up having to face the final villain alone

Jay specifically talking about how he lost his parents and it still affects him, which is the key to talking down Unagami and concluding the season

among other things but those are the glaring things that everyone notices

Skybound was a season that was very much about jay learning what his issues are and beginning to improve himself as a person, and prime empire is where we SEE THAT. he's more confident in himself, he's not pretending to be someone he's not, he's secure in his relationship with nya, he's embraced his jokey and goofy nature.

and it's not just jay! like you mentioned, lloyd using his wisdom about MAKING things happen if you really want it. which i feel like isn't just a product of skybound - lloyd can't even remember skybound after all, and even though that knowledge probably still lingered you can also see how lloyd has literally done the impossible throughout the show through sheer force of will. of course he'd be the one so determined to help others see beyond what they're supposed to be - he was defined by a prophecy for so long that decreed he'd defeat his father, and yet twice he's been able to subvert that (first in season 3 and then again in season 10) by showing you aren't necessarily defined by what you're SUPPOSED to be

idk i just think prime empire is so good and so fascinating and such a great example of the characters growth throughout the show

#I LOVE PRIME EMPIRE OKAY ITS SO GOOD #i totally understand that it's not everyone's cup of tea but it's fantastic it's my favorite season for a reason #prime empire #ninjago #skybound #jay walker #lloyd garmadon #spinjitsu screams #ask

[clavissionary-position]

For Chev Simps

I had a painfully beautiful epiphany about Chevalier while reading a book on poetry called Rhyme's Rooms by Brad Leithauser. This here is really nothing more than a personal headcanon though. It's sappy and simp-y and practically nonsense.

First, some context. Of which I'm sure I'm paraphrasing completely incorrectly, but it serves my purpose, so idk.

The particular chapter I was reading (which happens to be the very first) likens rhyming words in any given poem to its inherent 'music.' Sometimes the distance between rhyming words is only a handful of syllables, but sometimes you can go line after line after line after line after line after line, a hundred lines in, before you find the prodigal word that completes the pair—if you were consciously looking for it at all at that point. This might be the case in an intentionally-unrhymed blank verse epic like Paradise Lost (which the book uses as an example). The bottom line is, people aren't meant to seek out those rhymes across that great a difference. Those rhymes happen by default because English only has so many words.

Anyway, the author then falls back on the thought experiment he introduced at the start. Suppose, he says, there's a group of people with perfect recall, the perfect readers of any poem, because they can track rhyming words, those wandering notes of literary music, that exist across a vastness that is impossible for the average person to consciously traverse. Such a reader can enjoy even the rhymes that occur by chance because they can, by virtue of their memory, hunt rhymes to edge of the earth, across any stretch of time. They are "perfect" and they are "patient".

But the author's ultimate point is that while these hypothetical perfect readers can enjoy poems on a level that wasn't intended for the rest of us, they miss out on the exact thing that makes poems so special for those of us without perfect recall: "enlightened surprise," or the beautiful epiphany that comes from reading a poem over and over and over and each time discovering more of its secrets and its music.

Forget that last paragraph because what I want to say about Chevalier is this: as I'm sure you've picked up by now, he is that perfect reader with perfect recall. But imagine we aren't talking about a literal poem anymore. Instead let's talk about a love story told across time. And the rhyming words, the musical notes of this love story are your actions and your affections as beheld by Chevalier.

Chevalier, with his perfect recall, has the distinct ability to match every thing you do and say to its "rhyming" counterpart a hundred thousand, a hundred million actions away. He can "read" a poem written in your very movements through space and time and he can hear the music, no matter how long it takes for the phrase to conclude. He can enjoy you in a way that no one else can.

For Chevalier, you are a neverending poem.

#ikemen prince #chevalier michel

[creatchie8]

Yellow Soul: Chapter Four

Persimmon

Chapter Summary: Things haven't been the same since the fight in Rhett's truck. The pressure is getting to you, and the feelings of self-doubt are not eased as others around you do not reveal their secrets.

Pairing: Rhett Abbott/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Minors DNI, Protected PinV sex, Choking (light), Cheating, Fighting (not physical, just some strong words), Risky sex (idk if it deserves a warning but it made me scared writing it lol)

Word Count: 5,000ish

A/N: As always, I love you all <3 I am really hoping to get another chapter out before the new year, as I am on break from uni!

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter - Masterlist

“Whatcha workin’ on there?”

Royal’s voice made you jump. You had heard him come in, his big boots creaking on the floors. But you did not expect him to start chatting you up when he was supposed to be working outside with Rhett.  

“Hmm? Oh, just replying back to some internship opportunities I got. Nothing too interesting.” You chuckle as you get back to typing on your laptop. You were perched on a loveseat in the living room, soaking in the silence. Perry had gone to work a couple of hours ago, promising to bring you a donut if the little pastry place by the hardware store hadn’t run out by the time he got off work. 

It wasn't like he gave you much else to do than just wait for him, the roads were terrible and both of your parents were at work. 

“I’m actually a TA for an undergraduate class, too. Before I left Laramie I had to do a ton of grading so honestly I am just thankful I get to do stuff on my computer that is not looking at papers on Cultural Competence.” You joked, looking at the older man above your screen. 

Royal sat down in the armchair across from you, the old furniture creaking under his weight. 

“Your parents must be awfully proud of you. Bein’ some busy college girl who gets good grades.” Royal remarked, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees.  

“They are, and I am very thankful for it.” You confirm, nodding and smiling at him. This was kind of awkward. He sighed, the long breath coming from his nose as he stayed put.

Okay, this was really awkward.

The silence dragged on while you typed, glancing up at Royal a few times to see that he was just looking at his hands, picking at a scab on his wrist. Where was Cecilia? Surely she would be emerging from wherever she was hiding to break this uncomfortable tension between the two of you. 

“You know, uhm,” He cleared his throat, “Perry is a good boy and loves you to bits, right?” Royal says suddenly and your fingers still on the keyboard. Your palms were sweating now, heartbeat quickening. 

Did he know about you and Rhett? Did he see you two in the kitchen and Rhett didn't notice? Did Rhett tell him? 

“Of course I know that!” You smile and say lightheartedly, removing your laptop from your knees and placing it on the couch next to you, “Perry is a great man.” You add with forced enthusiasm. 

“Yes he is. He’s a lot like Cecilia, leads with his heart but not always with his brain sometimes. Just wants people to be happy, ya know?” 

“What are you tryin’ to say here, Royal?” You ask, smile faltering at his words. 

“Nothin’ sweetheart. Just… I want you to choose the life that makes you happy. I know you love my son, but remember that.” He concludes and gets up, groaning with the effort, “Rhett’s been waiting for me outside, I better get back to him.” 

Then he was gone. 

He knows. He has to know. There is no way in hell he doesn't know. God, you are so fucking screwed. 

Your stomach churns and you feel completely sick. Absolutely dirty and disgusted with yourself. This can't be happening. But you thought Royal would be furious if he found out. Not calm while telling you. You stand and rush over to the kitchen window and spot Rhett and Royal, just fixing the fence as usual. Not a fight or arguing. 

That might be good. Because if you didn't get chewed out, Rhett would absolutely be getting the worst of it. But instead, nothing. Maybe, Royal saw how unhappy you were since arriving here. He also was not a stranger to his older son’s bad mood and cruel tendencies. 

Did he want you to break up with his son? Was he warning you of something that you know nothing about yet? Why is Royal so vague and fucking confusing? 

A vibration in your pocket distracted you, pulling out your phone to see your mom was calling, but from her work phone. 

“Momma?” You hold the phone to your ear and sit down at the dining table. 

“Oh good! I am so glad you picked up. I completely forgot that your brother gets out early today, but I can’t leave work to pick him up. Can you please go to the house and wait there till I get home? I just don't trust him to be there by himself.” She explains, her words rushing out as static surrounded them. 

“Of course, I wasn't doing anything anyways.” You breathe a sigh of relief, “Let me put my things away and I’ll head over as soon as I can.” You are already up and in the living room, closing the laptop and zipping it away in the case. 

“You're an angel! If you are leaving now you’ll beat him by an hour or two, so you'll be home alone. Anyways, see you there!” She says and you can hear the smile in her voice before she hangs up. 

This is perfect. A perfect excuse to get out and stay somewhere Rhett and his dad are not. Quickly, you get up to Perry’s room and put your computer away and change into decent clothes to see your family. But as soon as you made your way to the front door, so far in fact that your hand was on the door handle, you remembered. 

Your fucking truck wouldn’t drive. Probably wouldn't even budge because of how long it had been sitting. Every time you went out you used Perry or Rhett’s truck, and you hadn't even looked at what was wrong with yours. 

Great. 

What do you do? Tell your mom you can't go? 

So you stare at your phone for a bit. Just looking at the crack in the screen protector from a long time ago. Maybe if you stare at it long enough it will come up with a solution for you? Probably not, unfortunately. 

So your fingers type and go to the first person you can think of. 

Me: Can I ask you a huge favor?

You wait so long for him to reply back you decide to sit on the bottom step of the stairs.

Rhett Abbott: What

Me: I need to go make sure my younger brother is okay but my truck won’t start. Please can I borrow yours?

You wait even longer for this message.

Rhett Abbott: Sure

Me: Thank you

When you go outside, you are confused by the sight. 

“My dad doesn't want you to go alone. Says the roads are too icy.” Rhett calls as he walks up the path to you, holding his keys in his gloved hand. His lips are pale and his nose is reddened, a sharp contrast to his light skin. Royal is still over working on the fence, down on his knees and fixing something in the frozen dirt. 

“I can drive myself.” You snapped, crossing your arms defensively. Your puffer jacket made a crinkly noise as you did so. 

“I’m not letting you drive my truck.” Rhett deadpanned, turning around before you could even protest and walking to his truck. Not even entertaining the thought of you driving. 

You all but stomped after him, upset at the change of events. 

But Royal wasn't kidding, the roads were very icy. Not enough to cause the truck to skid, but enough to make the tires spin for a few seconds when you took off. After a particularly concerning brake at a stop sign close to town, you were thankful you were not in charge of potentially crashing Rhett’s beloved truck. 

But you weren't going to admit that. 

“You really could have gone back to work and let me drive.” You huff, not bothering to look at him. 

“I don’t think you’re a very good driver.” Rhett retorted, slowing down to go over a speed bump as you got closer to the center of town.

“Not- oh my god! Not a good driver? Did Perry tell you that?” You scoff loudly, the familiar turns to your house making you sway, “I bet he did. Listen, the last time he ever let me drive was in eleventh grade and I had barely gotten my license!” Your face was hot with anger, the absolute audacity stunning you. 

“I was in the car with you guys! I was sittin’ in the back seat while you almost drove us right into the fuckin’ ditch.” He said, his normal gravely voice going up an octave as you fought, side-eyeing you the whole time. You seethed in your seat until he parked in the driveway, trying to come up with something to say.

“I was not about to run over some poor ground squirrel, that is just cruel!” You retorted, already opening the truck door.   

Slamming the door, you got out and marched to the house, cold hands fumbling with the keys on your lanyard. You were muttering curse words when you felt Rhett come up behind you, waiting for you to open the front door. 

When you finally found the right key you jammed it into the lock, jiggling until it gave way. The house was completely silent despite the constant string of curses coming out of your mouth. Rhett followed you in, which only made you angrier. You kicked your shoes off in frustration, ready to pull your hair out when Rhett did the same.  

“Why the fuck are you still here? I want to wait here by myself, not with you.” You snapped loudly, turning around when you heard the door shut and Rhett was still inside and not outside where he belonged. It was upsetting you more and more that he couldn't obey a single wish of yours. First the truck, now not leaving your own house. 

Jesus, you forgot he knew how to play the insufferable younger brother part perfectly. 

Opening your mouth to argue with him some more, you were silenced by Rhett slamming you back first into the nearest wall, getting the wind knocked out of your lungs. The family photos hanging above your head shifted with the sudden smack, their frames off-center now. 

While you were still dazed, you didn't notice that Rhett had his lips attached to your jaw, biting at the cold skin there. His hips were pressed to you and you could feel his hot erection through his jeans. 

“You're so annoying, you know that?” He muttered into your skin, and you couldn't help but knock his hat off to tangle your fingers into his hair, sharply tugging at the soft locks. 

“You don't seem to mind it though, do you?” You ask, already knowing the answer as you reach one hand down to palm roughly at his hard cock. Rhett hissed in response, the sound sharp through his teeth. The reaction made you smirk as you pushed him off of you. You fisted the opening of his jacket, unceremoniously shoving the tough fabric from his broad shoulders. 

Before he could protest, you were already walking swiftly to the living room, pulling off your jacket and sweater in quick succession. 

Rhett followed once he got the idea, stripping off the jacket that was already hanging from his elbows. You leaned on the taupe couch, fingers digging into the armrest while you still fumed with annoyance. 

Watching Rhett throw that damn jacket to the ground and stalk towards you with so much exasperation and purpose made your thighs clench together. Your cold exterior was slipping by the second. 

“Get on your knees.” Rhett commands when he gets closer to you, taking a few steps forward as he starts to undo his belt buckle. The forcefulness of his tone sends a zing straight to your pussy, the adrenaline practically making you vibrate in excitement. 

“Fuck you.” You spit before dropping to your knees before him, swatting his hands away to finish pulling out his dick yourself. He’s hard and throbbing, the tip flushed almost a purpley color. It makes your mouth water. But before you can admire him more, you feel a heavy hand on the back of your head, commanding you to suck his dick.

Fitting him in your mouth was no easy task, taking too much at once and making yourself gag on his cock. The lewd noise made him buck his hips, that firm hand pressing into the back of your skull. It was easier to draw back and fit your hand around what you couldn't comfortably fit, starting a rhythm of bobbing your head aided by Rhett’s hand. Drool gathered down your chin, his dick stretching your lips thin while you worked.

Arousal gathered in your panties, aided by the groans and gasps of the cowboy above you. Words of praise left his lips, too broken to really tell what they were. You reached up and cupped his balls, loving how he hissed as you massaged them firmly, reminding him that you were still mad. He reminded you of his own anger by giving a firm buck of his hips, leaving you sputtering and choking on his length. But you recovered quickly and with more vengeance, doubling your efforts to make him cum. 

“Fuck- stop, stop it now.” Rhett gasped before ripping your mouth off him, your nails gripping the jeans still at his thighs so he didn't back away. 

“Get down here and fuck me.” You demanded, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and sitting on your haunches. Lust bubbling under your skin as he did as he was told, dropping to his knees like an obedient dog. You felt lightheaded, almost stunned by how much it turned you on that he was doing whatever you said. 

As Rhett knelt down in front of you, he used one hand to push your shoulder. Taking the hint you laid back on the carpet. He immediately crowded over you, one hand roughly shoving under your sports bra to massage your breast and tweak your hard nipple. With a whine you arched up into him, hands flying to his shoulders. You claw at him, hopefully leaving raw scratches through his shirt to remind him of you. At that movement he pushes your shirt and bra up to rest above your breasts. 

A hand suddenly closes around your throat, actually gripping you this time and not at all like the last. His mouth closes around your other nipple, sucking and flicking it with his devilish tongue. All you could do was struggle against his grasp, pathetic noises tearing from your throat. If you could speak you would beg for some friction between your thighs, lifting them up in search for some relief. 

He was being mean now, purposely holding you down and ignoring your seeking hips. You pushed on his shoulders to get his attention and he let up enough for you to surge up and kiss him ferociously, clicking your teeth together mercilessly. 

“Rhett, I swear to god if you don’t fuck me I’ll make you leave.” You warn between messy kisses, feeling him hook a few fingers into your jeans before pulling them down in one fluid movement barely past the swell of your ass.

“Hands and knees.” He instructed and you did so, kissing him one last time before rolling over onto your tummy then pushing up on your forearms and knees. You spread your legs as wide as you can, baring your naked pussy for him. A finger swiped through your folds without warning, making you jump. It gently ghosted over your clit before it pulled away, the sounds of Rhett’s jeans being pushed down behind you followed by the foil of a condom being torn. 

Bracing yourself, sucking in a loud breath before gripping the carpet. His plush cock head smeared through your folds before entering in one sharp thrust, one you were expecting but one that was so unexpected. You shut your eyes at the sting, a whimper punched out of your lungs.

His cock was hot and heavy as it sat in you, a stuttering breath leaving your lungs in a pained whine. The carpet bit into your knees, embedding their fibers into your jeans. The feeling was no longer a foreign sensation, your body now familiar with the intrusion. 

“God, you’re such a fucking slut, taking my cock like you are made for it.” Rhett groans behind you, a hand slapping your ass, his palm connecting roughly with it. All you could do was sob, the noise coming from deep within you and rattling your chest.

You were thinking about getting violent as Rhett was paused, groping you with no shame. But as he moved you met him on every thrust, the sharp sounds of you two connecting filled the living room. Loud, embarrassing wails left your mouth as you demanded him to be deeper, rougher. 

Rhett was fucking straight through you, the head of his cock bruising your poor cervix. It felt incredibly animalistic, even the noises coming from the man behind you was akin to some feral beast on the mountains surrounding the sleepy town. 

A faint buzzing drew you out of the lustful haze you were lost in, the noise coming from the pocket of your jacket next to you. When you lifted your head from where it was hanging from between your shoulders, your stomach dropped out of you and straight to the floor. 

“S-stop, Rhett stop it.” You said with a shaky voice, the previous fire gone from your vocal cords. You lifted your foot up and smacked him in the thigh, the physical statement making him pause. But not only before he buried himself so deep that you couldn’t breathe, you swore you could feel his dick in your lungs. 

Pushing down the lump in your throat, hands shaking, you pulled the phone from the pocket, praying that it was a spam call from somewhere very far away. 

“It’s Perry.” You murmured in a small voice, the phone feeling clunky and huge in your hand as it continued to vibrate. A picture of him smiling was shining on the screen, the ‘slide to answer’ button glaring at you to use it. Your mouth felt dry and sticky, prompting you to open your mouth slightly and breathe out of it. 

It felt like you were being suffocated. 

After a long pause you attempted to slip it back into the pile of clothes on the floor, watching to forget about your boyfriend and just focus on the task at hand. But sharp fingers dug into your side, making you wince and pause.

“Answer it.” 

“What?” You asked dumbly, turning your head over your shoulder in an attempt to see him. Completely taken aback at his statement.

“You heard me. Answer it.” Rhett repeated, his voice dark. It made you gulp, fear twirling in your stomach as you looked back at the phone still buzzing loudly on the carpet. How long would it vibrate for? It felt like it had been going on for hours at this point, just staring at your vulnerable form this entire time. 

The dig of his fingers reminded you of his presence and you nodded, licking your lips in an attempt to unstick them. You felt like you were being possessed, grabbing the phone as you lowered to your elbows, sliding the button to answer the call and placing it firmly to your ear.

“Hey Per!” 

You answered as normally as you could, Rhett breathing heavily behind you. A calloused hand traveled up your spine softly, making you get goosebumps and shiver.

“Hey darlin’. Where are ya right now?” 

His voice cracked through the phone.

“Oh! Uhm… just at my mom’s house. She needed me to hang out here until she got home.” 

Your fingers dug into the carpet as Rhett began to move again, newfound heat licking at your belly. It was dizzying, trying to keep up with the conversation in your ear while also trying to listen to the cowboy behind you making the softest noises of pleasure. 

“Great then! I get off work in a bit, I’ll come over after I’m done. It’s closer than…” 

He started, but you stopped listening. Blood rushed through your ears, making it hard to hear anything due to your impending orgasm. Rhett’s fingers found your clit, dragging some of the creamy wetness from where you two are conjoined to ease the circles. 

“Y-yeah that sounds great!” 

You quickly responded, the hand that was clenching the carpet now coming up to smack around your mouth, noises threatening to slip. 

“What? Are you doin’ okay sweetheart?” 

Perry asked at your sudden response. You prayed he couldn’t hear the sticky wet smack of Rhett’s balls on your pussy, the sound becoming louder as your orgasm drew closer. 

“Hmm? Oh yeah-“ You rapidly blinked your eyelids, trying to regain focus. “Just fine! Sorry, I’m uh… I’m trying to get something heavy out of the closet. Could you- ah! Could you r-repeat what you said e-earlier?” 

Rhett’s hands on your hips moved you forcefully back and forth on his cock, spearing you like you were a piece of meat. He was letting little pants escape through his nose, and you were sure he was red faced and trying to pull it together. 

Perry laughed on the line, it sounded almost condescending. 

“I was saying- I’ll come over after work to join you. I need to talk to your dad anyway about some stuff.” 

He explained, still with that condescending tone, like you were incompetent. What did he have to say to your dad? What was so important it could not wait til like, Christmas dinner or something? 

His words made you seethe, well they would have if you didn’t have someone fucking you into oblivion. 

“Yeah, no- definitely when you’re done. Be safe driving here, the roads are slick.”

 You were out of breath, forehead completely smashed into the carpet and whole body rigid as you awaited the end of the phone call. 

“Alright, see ya later sweetheart.” 

Perry concluded, sounding distant as you writhed against the ground. 

“Yep!” It came out as a squeak, Rhett giving you a sharp thrust, “See you soon!” 

The dial tone was the sweetest sound you had ever heard and probably will hear after that. Immediately you dropped the phone and let out a loud sob, toes curling. 

“Fu- like that, Jesus Christ don’t you dare fucking stop, R-Rhett.” You growled, shoving your phone far away from your face, watching it slide under the couch. Your whole body was on fire and you felt close to hyperventilating.

 It was humiliating how he had you flattened to the ground besides your ass being in the air, a crick forming in your back. 

Rhett just grunted behind you, smoothing a hand down your inevitably sweaty lower back. Soon, the pace he set was jostling his other hand, the one so deliciously circling your clit. It was messy and not always hitting the right spots, so you decided to hit him away, replacing his hand with yours. 

You would have thought he would have protested like he did at church, but he happily took his hand back, using it to pull you harder against him on your hip. 

“Takin’ it so good- shit.” Rhett rumbled behind you between guttural noises, the sounds low in his throat. Praise always weakens you, fire crackling all the way through your body. It started at your core, zips of lightning coursing through your veins and to your fingertips. Quickly, your hindbrain took over and was controlling you out of instinct. 

“Yeah- all for you. Take it- all for you.” You barely managed to cry out before resorting to tiny ah ah ah ahs with your face pressed against the side of your bicep. There was a semi-familiar build up happening in the base of your pelvis, one that really only happens when you have your bullet vibrator pressed tight against your clit. 

As your breaths became more ragged, you felt lightheaded before you came. Eyes fluttering closed, it felt like you were soaring. Even your stomach dropped like when you ride roller coasters. 

A long, drawn-out moan left your lips and rattled your chest as you came. The feeling was unbelievable, like you were soaring high above all else. Rhett followed soon after, pulling you close while he emptied himself into the condom. His thick thighs pressed hard to your ass. A hand rubbed up and down the lower part of your spine, the gentle movement of it caused crackles of electricity to emerge in your chest.

To your dismay, Rhett pulled out. His hand that was resting on your back came down to grab a handful of your ass, making you squeak. 

“Jesus fuck- didnt think you liked my dick that much.” Rhett remarked sarcastically, out of breath as he tried to regain his composure. You sat up and turned to sit on your butt, trying to gracefully pull up your panties in a haze, your shirt and bra still sitting high up to your neck. 

“Don’t you have a condom you need to take off?” You muttered, annoyance settled back into you as you rolled your eyes and looked up.

He was staring at you, hands twitching in his lap. You blinked back, exhaling softly as your eyes locked. The sarcasm in his words didn't translate to his face, instead watching you with reverence. Even though your hair was a mess and you were sure there was drool and carpet imprints on your cheek. 

Your attention was brought back to his fidgety hands, watching as his fingers flitted together. There was a large cut on his right, the gash trailing from mid palm through the juncture between his thumb and pointer, ending just barely past that. It was scabbed over but the skin around it was still red and angry. 

Frowning, you subtly gestured to the lesion, “You should be more careful. When did you get that?” You asked softly. 

The moment was over as Rhett narrowed his eyes and swatted your arm with irritation before getting up to dispose of the condom. 

Quickly, you adjusted your clothing so it was like nothing ever happened, only the hot flush on your cheeks told anything. 

Fuck. 

The crackles in your chest turned to pangs of hurt as you watched Rhett leave to the bathroom. All this time you concluded the soreness in your heart to be feelings of guilt and self-hatred for cheating on Perry. 

Were you just actually fucking stupid? Of course you would be catching feelings. No one in the history of… well, ever would not fall in love- no, not love. Whatever this is, whatever you are doing with him can’t be love. 

You wouldn't allow it. 

It was useless to argue with yourself like this. Every waking moment was spent trying not to think about Rhett. When you saw his boots by the door it would send you into a spiral at seven o'clock in the morning when all you wanted to do was piss. When you scrolled through social media you searched up his name to look at the account he posts on once in a blue moon that you do not follow and just stare at his photos. The one time you had sex with Perry on this trip you forced your eyes shut-

You physically shake your head to rid yourself of that thought, warding it off like a bad omen. You were in denial, and you knew it. Feeling more lost now than ever before in your life. The thoughts made your lip quiver, and a headache formed around your skull like a tight rubber band. Quickly, you pressed your fingertips into your temples, trying to calm yourself as you looked down into your lap.

Socked feet stopped right in front of you, eyes trailing up his long legs and strong body to get to his face. Rhett had his hand extended towards you, calluses illuminated by the Christmas tree lights. After a moment's pause you accepted it and allowed yourself to be pulled up by him, amazed at how effortless Rhett made it seem.

Rhett did not let go of your hand when you stood at your full height. It was warm and solid, tough skin but holding your hand with all the delicateness in the world. His thumb swiped slowly across your knuckles, making you hyper aware of the chapped skin there. 

Quietly, you excused yourself to the bathroom, pulling your hand away from his. 

Finally alone in the small room, you fixed your appearance, soaking your hands in freezing water to press to your flushed cheeks. Groaning to yourself, you quickly finished up in the bathroom, not wanting to leave Rhett down there for too long by himself. 

Back in the living room, you found Rhett sitting on the couch with your phone in his lap. Watching you settle yourself on the furthest end away from him, Rhett passes over your phone, “Figured you didn't want to go digging around for your phone after you tossed it.” he remarked, running his fingers through his hair, pushing it back so he could put on his baseball cap. 

Looking over his shoulder, you saw he picked up your jackets and hung them in the foyer as well. When you looked back at him he was staring at you intently, his pretty blue eyes studying your movements carefully. 

“Thank you for picking up the jackets, and my phone.” You added gently as you turned your phone over in your hands nervously. Rhett simply nodded and went back to picking at his hands in his lap. 

After a moment of silence Rhett scratched the stubble on his jaw, the noise making you look over at him. You watched him get up with a grunt, hands coming down to adjust his jeans. 

“I better go back. Completely forgot about the work at home.” He explained, and you nodded. Rhett chewed his bottom lip, looking at you with what you could only assume was expectancy. Did he want you to say something? 

“Uhmm… I guess I’ll walk you out?” 

It was Rhett’s turn to nod, turning away from you and heading to the door. You followed him, slipping your phone into the back pocket of your jeans as you watched him shrug his coat on and slip on his boots. Avoiding the small puddles of melted snow on the tile floor you opted to stand on the rug near the door to not get your socks soaked. 

Crossing your arms defensively, Rhett stood toe to toe with you, reaching up to tuck a few strands of hair behind your ear. The touch softened you, dropping your arms to your sides almost instantly as you leaned into his palm, now resting gently on your cheek. 

Rhett leaned closer and captured your lips in a kiss. You could feel him smile the smallest bit as you kissed him back, igniting butterflies in your stomach. Pulling back, his thumb rubbed against your cheekbone.

“You should text me more.” Rhett stated, pecking you once again before opening the door and leaving.

Catch me on AO3 under Creatchie8 too! Happy Holidays!

#outer range #rhett abbott #rhett abbott outer range #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x reader #lewis pullman #lewis pullman characters #lewis pullman x reader #lewis pullman edit #outer range fic #outer range imagine #outer range fanfiction

[sonnet-of-anarchy]

Watching the S4 xmas special (in May yes yes shush) and it just hit me when Julian & Pat are downstairs with the presents & Pat watches his family xmas tapes for the first time - Julian’s there too, stood behind him.

Like, his first thought was it’d be a bluey because that’s something he’d want - idk, I think that initial selfish reaction is quite telling. He’s very detached from thinking of others which is why him watching Pat’s family from the literal shadows is so poignant? Because it’s so foreign to him watching Pat’s children with personalities other than screaming babies & just, yeah, I suppose it’s a snippet of what it could’ve been for him if he stuck around a bit more.

Now to Pat what’s initially perceived as happiness turns to upset but to Julian? That table is probably gold dust.

Like Pat’s perception of Christmas and family is entirely perfectionist and ideological; dissatisfied by one lighthearted mockery yet Julian?? He never had any of that - even the physicality of his background stage presence & his face’s cut off warrants an enigmatic detachment as oppose to Pat’s seat front and centre (the lighting highlights this too). Julian admires the jokes he couldn’t make himself despite the cliché. Note the sense of irony as he goes to look at his calendar (some things never change) - he gave it a once over before concluding that’s not his place.

Julian’s probably watching awed by what Pat considered normal cause he never had that connection or closeness. I just find the duality of Family dynamics really interesting in this scene…

#sorry bit of a rant #bbc ghosts #julian fawcett #pat butcher #I’ve worded this horrifically I do apologise #hopefully this kinda makes sense?

[meeeeeeri]

Things that really ANNOYED THE FUCK OUTTA ME while watching OUTER BANKS SEASON 3:

First things first: Big John AKA big old crazy dude

Let's just say that besides being a shitty father figure he also is selfish as fuck. He only decides to appear in John B's life whenever he needs him to do something treasure related, like ok big John, you love your son so much *cough cough*

In other hand, he also is willing to do ANTHING to find el Dorado, and by ANYTHING I mean killing people, tell me that's not what a psychopath would do.

And all the fricking screen time dedicated to the relationship between John B and his father???? Like we get that they need to bond again but DO WE HAVE TO WATCH ALL THE PROCESS?

No thank you Netflix, do better next time

I saw a tik tok that went something like this: Who said Ward is a bad person? Big John? cause if we wanna talk about someone BAD let's talk about Big John...

And yeah, that tik tok literally summes up my opinion about this individual.

Me roasting Big John with this post:

2: Rafe and the girl named Sofia who came out of nowhere

Ok. Don't misunderstand me; the idea of introducing a new character who's gonna play the girlfriend or fuckbuddy of Rafe is super super interesting to me BUT

Can you elaborate more their relationship????? Give more CONTEXT????

They could even use her apparition and do a BOMB ASS side story like idk maybe her being more cruel than Rafe or her having some kind of business relationship with Singh and betraying him in the process... WHATEVER

But I'm just saying that that would have been more interesting than the parental issues between Big Dumbass John and John B

A video of me crying while scenes of John B and his dad appeared on my tv non stop:

LOOK AT HIM HE'S SO CUTE LOVE HIM

3: Sarah and Topper

Don't even get me started on this shit.

When I saw that Sarah went back to flirting with Topper I was like WHA- WHE- WHO

But I'm not gonna question her that much because they are supposed to be playing teenagers, and that's what teenagers and (also) some adults do:

STUPID SHIT

And Topper... I really don't know how to feel about him.

He's like a shark who's ready to attack if he sniffs some blood (Sarah and John B breaking up or having relationship turbulences), but I can't even blame him that much because I feel like he really loves Sarah besides everything, and he really demonstrated it this season by helping the pogues out.

What Topper was replaying in his head when Sarah promised him that she would stay:

4: Sarah's thoughts when she was left with no family, no money and nowhere to go (she was homeless for like a day and decided to cope with it by drinking beer from an abandoned beer tap, ok)

Um... When I say I was expecting her to say something philosophical and life changing and SHE DECIDED TO CONCLUDE HER SPEECH WITH: I really don't know if I'm a pogue or a kook...

SIDE EYE

Girl I KNOW you are 17 but GROW THE FUCK UP.

You've been betrayed by your OWN FATHER and SHOT and nearly KILLED by your BROTHER and that's what you're thinking about???

Jesus Christ have mercy on me

All the build up story around pogues and kooks is really interesting (even tho it's like another form of saying rich and poor people) but when characters say shit like that it really makes no sense.

You have no home, no family, you argued with your bf and he left, and your friends are not there at the moment and YOU ARE THINKING ABOUT THAT IRRELEVANT SHIT? Damn

Ok, I think I am done with most of the things I wanted to say. There are MORE for sure, but these are the most important ones.

I have to be honest with you, I still haven't watched the last episode bc I really got tired of their bullshit. I love the show and I really love the characters, but this season just wasn't it. I am gonna try and finish it today with hopes that they will end it in a decent way (I don't think so but whatever).

It's not a secret by the end of this post that I'm a spanish native speaker so, yeah, I tried my best to write down correctly the ideas that I had about the show, so PLEASE don't come at me.

I'm also writing a fanfiction about Rafe, but I'm doing it in spanish because I feel like if I wrote it in english I would fuck it up.

Maybe I will try and start uploading Rafe imagines or smth like that, bc they would be shorter and easier to write for me.

PLEASE if you have any thoughts or a comment that you wanna add after reading my rant, just do it, I'm for sure gonna be answering y'all because I love to talk about the show and the characters.

BYE P4L

#obx #obx3 #outer banks #outer banks 3 #rafecameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x y/n #sorry for the rant #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outerbanks fic #rafe cameron blurb #obx smut #rafe cameron smut #outer banks smut

[etherealyoungk]

omg i know this is kinda similar to the cooking dinner with mingyu ask but what about doing smth sweet with him like a cake for your anniversary or any special date and putting cream in e/o faces and kissing and 😭 idk i think that would be so sweet </3

no this is such a cute thought!

it was yours and mingyu's one year anniversary and you really wanted to bake a cake. you were so excited to bake this cake and surprise mingyu. you start baking but you're when you hear the door open, you're confused because mingyu wasn't supposed to be home until later and you maybe start panicking trying to play it cool when he appears in the kitchen with an amused look as he sees and the counter full of ingredients.

"are you making something?", he asks. "noo...maybe", you say. "baking?", he concludes from a quick inspection of the ingredients. you nod.

"can i help?", he asks, eager and you think you may as well just tell him since he was going to find out anyway. (he knew what you were doing all to well, just wanted to hear you say it)

"i was going to surprise you for our anniversary, but you came home early", you say softly. he smiles. "that's exactly why i came home early", he says with a glint in his eyes. "i hate you", you mumble. "i know yo love me", he says as he comes next to you. you give him all the whisking and hard work because who needs the electric mixer when you have mingyu's biceps.

anyways so the cake is finally baked and cooled and you guys both start icing the cake. mingyu being the clumsy guy he is accidentally puts cream on his cheek when he was pushing a strand of your hair back, but you don't even notice because you were too concentrated on decorating the cake nicely. he'll keep looking at you with a grin until you finally ask him what's wrong, he'll just casually say you have cream on your face. "you tell me now? oh, you're in for it", you say, quickly swiping some cream on your finger and swiping it across his cheek and nose.

you guys chase each other around the table and he'll chuckle at you. and when he finally catches you in his arms, you're laughing too. he'll look at you so sweetly at that moment as he leans in to kiss you, the icing on his nose getting on your nose in the process, but none of you are bothered as you continue to kiss. "happy anniversary baby", he says before kissing you again, the cake long forgotten.

#skye answers #☁️'s anon's #skye's writing #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeenimagines #seventeen drabbles #svt fluff #seventeen soft hours #svt drabbles #svt scenarios #svt soft hours #svt x reader #mingyu imagines #mingyu fluff #mingyu x you #mingyu scenarios #mingyu drabbles #kim mingyu fluff #kim mingyu imagines #kim mingyu x reader

[katyspersonal]

I see so many similarities between Messmer and Melina, idk if all of them are intentional but if they were. Could it be a hint of them being twins ? Or even different aspects of the same person like Marika&Radagon, Miq&Trina?

Yeah, I've been wondering about this too, actually! 🤔 They both have their left eye sealed, both have theme of fire, both are Demigod children of Marika that were removed from the contest for the throne, both were given a more specific purpose by Marika herself, both know some secrets no one else in the family does.. And just like you said, it is not an outlandish concept for a Demigod to have two alters! Melina is willing to help whatever worthy Tarnished to advance, whereas Messmer, from what we can conclude, mocks the very idea. The contradiction between their motivations is not dissimilar to how Marika and Radagon are in the conflict between each other! @swallowtail-ageha also suggested the idea that they could be two alters of the same person!

fdsjhfdshdgsdf OKAY OKAY SO

PERSONALLY I do not subscribe to this idea yet, as I believe that Messmer became banished (?), if not erased from the memory of the family, even before Malenia and Miquella were born! I shared more of my current thoughts on Messmer in this ( x ) post, but in short, for me it seems like Messmer knew more about Marika's secrets than any other Demigod.. He was doing her most secret biddings. So, Miquella searching for the secrets of his mother brings a question, how came he never got any hunch from the guy?

( x )

Melina states that she "knew previous owner of Torrent", which was Miquella! But I think that she was even closer than just this! Some time ago I wrote my own theory post ( x ) on what Malenia's Rot spawn exactly are and concluded that they represent relationships she's been forgetting according to the very interesting weapons choices! So, Finlay, her teacher, Godwyn and... well, Melina. Melina and the twins were close, and she was left with the purpose to one day help to burn the entrance for the 'worthy' one, which originally were supposed to be one of the Demigods! This makes me assume that Miquella would've known.

And another bit that makes me go 🤔 is that Melina states that she is "burnt and bodiless"; whereas the cases of separated 'body' and 'astral projection' is known not just in Demigods but even in simple people (like Sellen and Dung Eater), and there are cases of splitting body of the same person (two Godwyns), so far I haven't seen the soul split? When Melina burns herself, she burns that 'astral projection' as she no longer has her real body, it is a complete annihilation, true death without any compromise or backtrack.

Not only her sacrifice would have questionable value if her 'other self' was still alive somewhere, but also.. do you really annihilate your soul if that's only a part of your soul? How does the 'split' between Demigods work? I do not think that you can kill one alter without killing another, even as a 'superior' being! I am sure Marika would love to destroy Radagon, but since she despised him and he was the "lesser" one yet he existed, I feel like she... could not? Without destroying herself as well? These are her words, "Let us both be scattered"; so, when she corrupted herself by scattering the Elden Ring, Radagon could not have avoided the same fate! Since Miyazaki confirms that player's progress in the main game would have no bearing on the DLC story, I assume it means that letting Melina burn would not affect Messmer in any form; thus, they're not the same person!

______________________________

Again, this is just what I think so far, and I am open for the actual DLC to completely prove me wrong! I do not have any solid counter-evidence against the theory that Melina and Messmer could've been twins; for all we know, Messmer could've simply been very secretive. I am just settled on the idea that they're less likely to be the two sides of the same Demigod!

#elden ring #melina #messmer the impaler #elden ring headcanons #ask replies

[grewlikefancyflowers]

unpopular opinion time but i'm thinking about how people are often like 'well the lans were at the pledge conference/siege too!!!' like yeah they were there because wen ning had killed multiple members of their clan in an unprovoked attack after they'd travelled to jinlin tai to defend him & wen qing ????

obviously the reader knows that wwx was not responsible for this (he was restrained all the way back in the burial mound). but the lans (and everyone else) has no idea. and at this point, to be honest, how can they reasonably be expected to question whether there's some misunderstanding or justification behind it?

i mean, wwx had wen ning kill four of the labour camp guards, in what the guards claim was an unprovoked and unjustified attack. when asked for an explanation, wwx's own sect leader does not dispute this, instead he publicly fights with wwx then declares to everyone that he is their enemy.

then jzx, and who-knows how many other jins are killed at qiongqi path. it's safe to assume that the jins did not make it public knowledge that they'd ambushed their own guest on his way to see them, and instead spun some other tale about it.

we don't know exactly what the lans thought of it, but we do know that they spoke up for the wen siblings. they obviously weren't willing to blindly follow the jins or condemn wwx & the wen remnants at this point. they only ever agreed to take any action against the burial mound settlement after wen ning had already killed several lans.

like idk i think it's fairly reasonable after two incidents or supposed unprovoked massacres and a third confirmed one to conclude that the guy behind it might actually have done all that. especially when the guy in particular has a reputation for mass, brutal killings and has made threats against them in the past 🤷🏻‍♀️

and i think it's a disservice to mdzs to read it through some 'society=bad' lens. like sure, we do see mob mentality and widespread hypocrisy and misplaced resentment against convenient targets. but the events of mdzs didn't just happen by accident ?? it was orchestrated by the most powerful in society to suit their own agendas.

fear and hatred of wwx was so widespread because jgs lied about him, because he had him ambushed and gave him no choice but to fight back. and because jc refused to support wwx's statements that they owed a debt to wn's branch of the wen sect & they hadn't participated in the war. and because jc withheld the truth about what happened to wen ning and why wwx released them and instead told everyone that wwx has made himself their enemy!!

i guess these arguments come about because people are defending wwx's actions at nightless city, but you don't need to paint the jianghu side as motivated purely by evil intentions in order for wwx to have done nothing wrong?? it doesn't matter if they had real justification to be there or not??

they all voluntarily agreed to attack him, he fought back, how could they expect anything else ?? they're not victims of the battle that they volunteered for & instigated. and if their army of 3000 or 5000 or whatever still isn't strong enough to defeat him then that's their problem, not wwx's lol.

#mdzs #i mean i don't think the lans or nie or whatever background sect or characters behaved perfectly but i just don't think they're comparable #the people who actively orchestrated wwx's downfall and death #aside from jzx the only time we see wwx feeling guilt about the deaths he caused was those lans at qiongqi path that's part of the reason #***jinlin tai not qiongqi path lol #he was so keen to avoid lwj at first and always summoned wen ning in secret #like i don't think post-canon wwx is gonna be getting mad at the lans for attending the pledge conference 😶 #mdzs meta

[grape-icing]

horuss zahhak oiled up and ready

Ok bruh here it is!!!

Also horuss’s matesprite is rufioh but y'all can pretend it's anyone.

(idk how to write smut and this is like my second fic ever so sry if it's bad!! Also I'm not the biggest fan of him so mb if he's ooc)

(I'm also taking requests! I will make a post about that later!)

Solo horuss fic!

Words: 725

Horuss went to his room and changed out of his day clothes and into his pajamas. He decided to call his loving matesprite to make up for the time they didn’t spend together earlier. Horuss grabbed his cell phone and dialed up his wonderful matesprite, which (of course) didn’t answer. He called a few more times before concluding that they were asleep…even if it was only 7:30. He sighed and climbed into bed. Although he still felt…well he wasn’t quite sure, it was kind of like a needing feeling. He shook it off and tried to sleep but it just wouldn’t go away. Horuss sat up “Fiddlesticks. I need to do something about this feeling.” But how? Horuss thought.

He had only felt this when he and his matesprite did-……oh. It clicked. Horuss got out of bed and grabbed his phone to call his matesprite like he did every time he felt similarly like this. Horuss was about to call when he remembered all of his previous failures earlier “Right, well I suppose I will have to solve this little problem myself. Unfortunately.”

Horuss set his phone down and headed right back to his bed. Horuss got covered up and then settled his mind on just getting it done and over, he was already tired so it made sense. Horuss slipped a hand under his sweatpants and boxers then gently started touching his aching bulge. “Oh god,” Horuss whispered. He reached his free up to pull at his hair, whimpering as he did. Horuss knew this wasn’t going to satisfy him. He sat up, moved over to his side table then pulled out a small bottle of oil. He began taking off his clothes. Horuss thought about it for a minute and wondered if he really should be doing something this scandalous without his lover. On second thought if his matesprite wanted to join then they should have answered his calls!

Horuss grabbed the bottle, opened it, and started pouring the oil all over himself. “Snickerdoodle! That's freezing.” Horuss said while shivering. He quickly started rubbing the oil everywhere. He grabbed his bulge and started to pick up where he left off. Stroking it as he moaned out but Horuss knew this wasn’t going to be enough. He needed something inside of him. He reluctantly stopped and went back to the nightstand where he pulled out a large, blue, horse-cock shaped dildo and a bottle of lube. He laid back down and squirted some lube on his fingers. Slowly he pushed one of his fingers in. “Oh biscuits.” Horuss groaned out. He was quick to slide another finger in and was even quicker to start fucking himself with them. Over time he ended up with four fingers up there when he finally decided he was ready enough to take the huge thing. He doesn’t use it much, well much on himself that is, his matesprite on the other hand always wanted Horuss to pound them with it.

Horuss took the fingers out of his rear end one by one and sat up wobbly, he grabbed the horse-cock shaped monster and poured a hefty amount of lube on the damn thing. “Cheese and crackers, is this even going to fit inside of me? Well if they can I suppose I can as well.” Horuss muttered as he questioned himself.

He clutched the object nearest to him as the tip went into his little hole. “G-god this feels excellent,” Horuss said as he shuttered between his words. He slowly pushed it in deeper and deeper until he hit the base. He couldn’t wait, he was so eager to get fucked. He pulled most of the dildo out and roughy started to fuck himself with the toy. Little by little he picked up the pace, building him up to his climax slowly.

He was already close when he started thinking about his matesprite, god that was it, the final straw. Horuss pushed the dildo in roughly for the last one before cumming. “That was exhilarating!” Horuss said before sighing.

#fanfic #horuss zahhak #homestuck #smut #homesmut